Charles Kingsley - "Prose Idylls"

Jean de La Fontaine - "The Tales and Novels, v23: The River Scamander &c."

Joseph Edmund Collins - "Annette, The Metis Spy"

James De Mille - "The Living Link"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Life of George Borrow

H >> Herbert Jenkins >> The Life of George Borrow




The boy had been sent to Tuck's Court to learn law, and instead he
persisted in acquiring languages, and such languages! Welsh, Danish,
Arabic, Armenian, Saxon; for these were the tongues with which he
occupied himself. None but a perfect mother such as Mrs Borrow could
have found excuses for a son who pursued such studies, and her
husband pointed out to her, it is "in the nature of women invariably
to take the part of the second born."

In one of those curiously self-revelatory passages with which his
writings abound, Borrow tells how he continued to act as door-keeper
long after it had ceased to be part of his duty. As a student of men
and a collector of strange characters, it was in keeping with his
genius to do so, although he himself was unable to explain why he
took pleasure in the task. No one was admitted to the presence of
the senior partner who did not first pass the searching scrutiny of
his articled clerk. Those who pleased him were admitted to Mr
Simpson's private room; to those who did not he proved himself an
almost insuperable obstacle. Unfortunately Borrow's standards were
those of the physiognomist rather than the lawyer; he inverted the
whole fabric of professional desirability by admitting the goats and
refusing the sheep. He turned away a knight, or a baronet, and
admitted a poet, until at last the distressed old gentleman in black,
with the philanthropical head, his master, was forced to expostulate
and adjure his clerk to judge, not by faces but by clothes, which in
reality make the man. Borrow bowed to the ruling of "the prince of
English solicitors," revised his standards and continued to act as
keeper of the door.

Mr Simpson seems to have earned Borrow's thorough regard, no small
achievement considering in how much he differed from his illustrious
articled-clerk in everything, not excepting humour, of which the
delightful, old-world gentleman seems to have had a generous share.
He was doubtless puzzled to classify the strange being by whose
instrumentality a stream of undesirable people was admitted to his
presence, whilst distinguished clients were sternly and rigorously
turned away. He probably smiled at the story of the old yeoman and
his wife who, in return for some civility shown to them by Borrow,
presented him with an old volume of Danish ballads, which inspired
him to learn the language, aided by a Danish Bible. {30a} He was not
only "the first solicitor in East Anglia," but "the prince of all
English solicitors--for he was a gentleman!" {30b} In another place
Borrow refers to him as "my old master . . . who would have died
sooner than broken his word. God bless him!" {30c} And yet again as
"my ancient master, the gentleman solicitor of East Anglia." {30d}

Borrow was always handsome in everything he did. If he hated a man
he hated him, his kith and kin and all who bore his name. His
friendship was similarly sweeping, and his regard for William Simpson
prompted him to write subsequently of the law as "a profession which
abounds with honourable men, and in which I believe there are fewer
scamps than in any other. The most honourable men I have ever known
have been lawyers; they were men whose word was their bond, and who
would have preferred ruin to breaking it." {31a}

Fortunately for Borrow there was at the Norwich Guildhall a valuable
library consisting of a large number of ancient folios written in
many languages. "Amidst the dust and cobwebs of the Corporation
Library" he studied earnestly and, with a fine disregard for a
librarian's feelings, annotated some of the volumes, his marginalia
existing to this day. One of his favourite works was the Danica
Literatura Antiquissima of Olaus Wormius, 1636, which inspired him
with the idea of adopting the name Olaus, his subsequent
contributions to The New Magazine being signed George Olaus Borrow.

Whilst Borrow was striving to learn languages and avoid the law,
{31b} the question of his brother's career was seriously occupying
the mind of their father. Borrow loved and admired his brother.
There is sincerity in all he writes concerning John, and there is
something of nobility about the way in which he tells of his father's
preference for him. "Who," he asks, "cannot excuse the honest pride
of the old man--the stout old man?" {31c}

The Peace had closed to John Borrow the army as a profession, and he
had devoted himself assiduously to his art. Under Crome the elder he
had made considerable progress, and had exhibited a number of
pictures at the yearly exhibitions of the Norwich Society of Artists.
He continued to study with Crome until the artist's death (22nd April
1821), when a new master had to be sought. With his father's
blessing and 150 pounds he proceeded to London, where he remained for
more than a year studying with B. R. Haydon. {32a} Later he went to
Paris to copy Old Masters.

About this time Borrow had an opportunity of seeing many of "the
bruisers of England." In his veins flowed the blood of the man who
had met Big Ben Bryan and survived the encounter undefeated. "Let no
one sneer at the bruisers of England," Borrow wrote--"What were the
gladiators of Rome, or the bull-fighters of Spain, in its palmiest
days, compared to England's bruisers?" {32b} he asks. On 17th July
1820 Edward Painter of Norwich was to meet Thomas Oliver of London
for a purse of a hundred guineas. On the Saturday previous (the
15th) the Norwich hotels began to fill with bruisers and their
patrons, and men went their ways anxiously polite to the stranger,
lest he turn out to be some champion whom it were dangerous to
affront. Thomas Cribb, the champion of England, had come to see the
fight, "Teucer Belcher, savage Shelton, . . . the terrible Randall, .
. . Bulldog Hudson, . . . fearless Scroggins, . . . Black Richmond, .
. . Tom of Bedford," and a host of lesser lights of the "Fancy."

On the Monday, upwards of 20,000 men swept out of the old city
towards North Walsham, less than twenty miles distant, among them
George Borrow, striding along among the varied stream of men and
vehicles (some 2000 in number) to see the great fight, which was to
end in the victory of the local man and a terrible storm, as if
heaven were thundering its anger against a brutal spectacle. The
sportsmen were left to find their way to shelter, Borrow and Mr
Petulengro, whom he had encountered just after the fight, with them,
talking of dukkeripens (fortunes).

Some time during the year 1820, a Jew named Levy (the Mousha of
Lavengro), Borrow's instructor in Hebrew, introduced him to William
Taylor, {33a} one of the most extraordinary men that Norwich ever
produced. In the long-limbed young lawyer's clerk, whose hair was
rapidly becoming grey, Taylor showed great interest, and, as an act
of friendship, undertook to teach him German. He was gratified by
the young man's astonishing progress, and much interested in his
remarkable personality. As a result Borrow became a frequent visitor
at 21 King Street, Norwich, where Taylor lived and many strange men
assembled.

It is doubtful if William Taylor ever found another pupil so apt, or
a disciple so enthusiastic among all the "harum-scarum young men"
{33b} that he was so fond of taking up and introducing "into the best
society the place afforded." {33c} He was much impressed by Borrow's
extraordinary memory and power of concentration. Speaking one day of
the different degrees of intelligence in men he said:- "I cannot give
you a better example to explain my meaning than my two pupils (there
was another named Cooke, who was said to be 'a genius in his way');
what I tell Borrow once he ever remembers; whilst to the fellow Cooke
I have to repeat the same thing twenty times, often without effect;
and it is not from want of memory either, but he will never be a
linguist." {33d}

To a correspondent Taylor wrote:-


"A Norwich young man is construing with me Schiller's Wilhelm Tell,
with the view of translating it for the press. His name is George
Henry Borrow, and he has learnt German with extraordinary rapidity;
indeed, he has the gift of tongues, and, though not yet eighteen,
understands twelve languages--English, Welsh, Erse, Latin, Greek,
Hebrew, German, Danish, French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese; he
would like to get into the Office for Foreign Affairs, but does not
know how." {34a}

This was in 1821; two years later Borrow is said to have "translated
with fidelity and elegance from twenty different languages." {34b}
In spite of his later achievements in learning languages, it seems
scarcely credible that he acquired eight separate languages in two
years, although it must be remembered that with him the learning of a
language was to be able to read it after a rather laborious fashion.
Taylor, however, uses the words "facility and elegance."

In the autobiographical notes that Borrow supplied to Mr John Longe
in 1862 there appears the following passage:-


"At the expiration of his clerkship he knew little of the law, but he
was well versed in languages, being not only a good Greek and Latin
scholar, but acquainted with French, Italian, Spanish, all the Celtic
and Gothic dialects, and likewise with the peculiar language of the
English Romany Chals or gypsies."


At William Taylor's table Borrow met "the most intellectual and
talented men of Norwich, as also those of note who visited the city."
{34c} Taylor was much interested in young men, into whose minds he
did not hesitate to instil his own ideas, ideas that not only earned
for him the name of "Godless Billy," but outraged his respectable
fellow-citizens as much as did his intemperate habits. "His face was
terribly bloated from drink, and he had a look as if his intellect
was almost as much decayed as his body," wrote a contemporary. {35a}
"Matters grew worse in his old age," says Harriet Martineau, "when
his habits of intemperance kept him out of the sight of ladies, and
he got round him a set of ignorant and conceited young men, who
thought they could set the whole world right by their destructive
propensities. One of his chief favourites was George Borrow." {35b}
Borrow has given the following convincing picture of Taylor:


"Methought I was in a small, comfortable room wainscotted with oak; I
was seated on one side of a fireplace, close by a table on which were
wine and fruit; on the other side of the fire sat a man in a plain
suit of brown, with the hair combed back from the somewhat high
forehead; he had a pipe in his mouth, which for some time he smoked
gravely and placidly, without saying a word; at length, after drawing
at the pipe for some time rather vigorously, he removed it from his
mouth, and emitting an accumulated cloud of smoke, he exclaimed in a
slow and measured tone: 'As I was telling you just now, my good
chap, I have always been an enemy of humbug.'" {35c}


William Taylor appears to have flattered "the harum-scarum young men"
with whom he surrounded himself by talking to them as if they were
his intellectual equals. He encouraged them to form their own
opinions, in itself a thing scarcely likely to make him popular with
either parents or guardians, least of all with discipline-loving
Captain Borrow, who declined even to return the salute of his son's
friend on the public highway.

Borrow now began to look to the future and speculate as to what his
present life would lead to. His cogitations seem to have ended,
almost invariably, in a gloomy mist of pessimism and despair--in
other words, an attack of the "Horrors." If Mr Petulengro were
encamped upon Mousehold, the antidote lay near to hand in his
friend's pagan optimism; if, on the other hand, the tents of Egypt
were pitched on other soil, there was no remedy, unless perhaps a
prize-fight supplied the necessary stimulus to divert his thoughts
from their melancholy trend.

Borrow met at the house of his tutor and friend, in July 1821, Dr
Bowring {36a} (afterwards Sir John) at a dinner given in his honour.
Bowring had recently published Specimen of Russian Poets, in
recognition of which the Czar (Alexander I.) had presented him with a
diamond ring. He had a considerable reputation as a linguist, which
naturally attracted Borrow to him. Dr Bowring was told of Borrow's
accomplishments, and during the evening took a seat beside him.
Borrow confessed to being "a little frightened at first" of the
distinguished man, whom he described as having "a thin weaselly
figure, a sallow complexion, a certain obliquity of vision, and a
large pair of spectacles." It would be dangerous to accept entirely
the account that Borrow gives of the meeting, {36b} because when that
was written he had come to hate and despise the man whom he had begun
by regarding with such awe. Bowring appears to have ventilated his
views with some freedom, and to have had a rather serious passage of
arms with another guest whom he had rudely contradicted. It is very
probable that Borrow's dislike of Bowring prompted him to exaggerate
his account of what happened at Taylor's house that evening.

Whilst Borrow was industriously occupied in collecting vagabonds and
imbibing the dangerous beliefs of William Taylor, there sat in an
easy-chair in the small front-parlour of the little house in Willow
Lane, in a faded regimental coat, a prematurely old man, whose frame
still showed signs of the magnificent physique of his vigorous
manhood. "Sometimes in prayer, sometimes in meditation, and
sometimes in reading the Scriptures," with his dog beside him,
Captain Thomas Borrow, now sixty-five, was preparing for the end that
he felt to be approaching. He frequently meditated upon what was to
become of his younger son George, who held his father in such awe as
to feel ill at ease when alone with him.

One day the inevitable interrogation took place. "What do you
propose to do?" and the equally inevitable reply followed, "I really
do not know what I shall do." In the course of a somewhat lengthy
cross-examination, Captain Borrow discovered that his son knew the
Armenian tongue, for which he very cunningly strove to enlist his
father's interest by telling him that in Armenia was Mount Ararat,
whereon the ark rested. Captain Borrow also discovered that his son
could not only shoe a horse, but also make the shoes; but, what was
most important, he found that George had learned "very little" law.
When asked if he thought he could support himself by Armenian or his
"other acquirements," the younger man was not very hopeful, and
horrified the old soldier by suggesting that if all else failed there
was always suicide.

The dying man was thus left to yearn for the return of his elder son,
in whom all his hopes lay centred. John appears to have been by no
means dutiful to his parents in the matter of letters. For six
months he left them unacquainted even with his address in Paris,
where he was still copying Old Masters in the Louvre.

After their talk the father and younger son seem to have come to a
better understanding. George would frequently read aloud from the
Bible, whilst Captain Borrow would tell about his early life. His
son "had no idea that he knew and had seen so much; my respect for
him increased, and I looked upon him almost with admiration. His
anecdotes were in general highly curious; some of them related to
people in the highest stations, and to men whose names are closely
connected with some of the brightest glories of our native land."
{38a}

At last John arrived, apparently a little disillusioned with the
world; but the coming of his favourite son produced no change for the
better in Captain Borrow s health. He was content and happy that God
had granted his wish. There remained nothing now to do but "to bless
my little family and go." George learned "that it is possible to
feel deeply and yet make no outward sign."

The end came on the morning of 28th February 1824. It was by a
strange chance that the old man should die in the arms of his younger
son, who had run down on hearing his mother's anguished screams.
Borrow has given a dramatic account of his father's last moments:-


"At the dead hour of night, it might be about two, I was awakened
from sleep by a cry which sounded from the room immediately below
that in which I slept. I knew the cry, it was the cry of my mother,
and I also knew its import; yet I made no effort to rise, for I was
for the moment paralysed. Again the cry sounded, yet still I lay
motionless--the stupidity of horror was upon me. A third time, and
it was then that, by a violent effort bursting the spell which
appeared to bind me, I sprang from the bed and rushed downstairs. My
mother was running wildly about the room; she had awoke and found my
father senseless in the bed by her side. I essayed to raise him, and
after a few efforts supported him in the bed in a sitting posture.
My brother now rushed in, and snatching a light that was burning, he
held it to my father's face. 'The surgeon, the surgeon!' he cried;
then dropping the light, he ran out of the room followed by my
mother; I remained alone, supporting the senseless form of my father;
the light had been extinguished by the fall, and an almost total
darkness reigned in the room. The form pressed heavily against my
bosom--at last methought it moved. Yes, I was right, there was a
heaving of the breast, and then a gasping. Were those words which I
heard? Yes, they were words, low and indistinct at first, and then
audible. The mind of the dying man was reverting to former scenes.
I heard him mention names which I had often heard him mention before.
It was an awful moment; I felt stupified, but I still contrived to
support my dying father. There was a pause, again my father spoke:
I heard him speak of Minden, and of Meredith, the old Minden
sergeant, and then he uttered another name, which at one period of
his life was much on his lips, the name of--but this is a solemn
moment! There was a deep gasp: I shook, and thought all was over;
but I was mistaken--my father moved and revived for a moment; he
supported himself in bed without my assistance. I make no doubt that
for a moment he was perfectly sensible, and it was then that,
clasping his hands, he uttered another name clearly, distinctly--it
was the name of Christ. With that name upon his lips, the brave old
soldier sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands still clasped,
yielded up his soul." {39a}



CHAPTER III: APRIL 1824-MAY 1825



On 2nd April 1824, George Borrow was cast upon the world of London by
the death of his father, "with an exterior shy and cold, under which
lurk much curiosity, especially with regard to what is wild and
extraordinary, a considerable quantity of energy and industry, and an
unconquerable love of independence." {40a}

It had become necessary for him to earn his own livelihood. Captain
Borrow's pension had ceased with his death, and the old soldier's
savings of a lifetime were barely sufficient to produce an income of
a hundred pounds a year for his widow. The provision made in the
will for his younger son during his minority would operate only for
about four months, as he would be of age in the following July. {40b}
The clerkship with Simpson & Rackham would expire at the end of
March. Borrow had outlined his ambitions in a letter written on 20th
January 1824, when he was ill and wretched, to Roger Kerrison, then
in London: "If ever my health mends [this has reference to a very
unpleasant complaint he had contracted], and possibly it may by the
time my clerkship is expired, I intend to live in London, write
plays, poetry, etc., abuse religion and get myself prosecuted," for
he was tired of the "dull and gloomy town." It was therefore with a
feeling of relief that, on the evening of 1st April, he took his seat
on the top of the London coach, his hopes centred in a small green
box that he carried with him. It contained his stock-in-trade as an
author: his beloved manuscripts, "closely written over in a singular
hand."

Among the bundles of papers were:


(i.) The Ancient Songs of Denmark, heroic and romantic, translated
by himself, with notes philological, critical and historical.

(ii.) The Songs of Ab Gwilym, the Welsh Bard, also translated by
himself, with notes critical, philological and historical. {41a}

(iii.) A romance in the German style.


In addition to his manuscripts, Borrow had some twenty or thirty
pounds, his testimonials, and a letter from William Taylor to Sir
Richard Phillips, the publisher, to whose New Magazine he had already
contributed a number of translations of poems. He had also printed
in The Monthly Magazine and The New Monthly Magazine translations of
verse from the German, Swedish, Dutch, Danish and Spanish, and an
essay on Danish ballad writing.

On the morning of 2nd April there arrived at 16 Milman Street,
Bedford Row, London, W.C.,


"A lad who twenty tongues can talk,
And sixty miles a day can walk;
Drink at a draught a pint of rum,
And then be neither sick nor dumb;
Can tune a song and make a verse,
And deeds of Northern kings rehearse;
Who never will forsake his friend
While he his bony fist can bend;
And, though averse to broil and strife,
Will fight a Dutchman with a knife;
O that is just the lad for me,
And such is honest six-foot-three." {42a}


It was through the Kerrisons that Borrow went to 16 Milman Street,
where Roger was lodging. His apartments seem to have been dismal
enough, consisting of "a small room, up two pair of stairs, in which
I was to sit, and another, still smaller, above it, in which I was to
sleep." After the first feeling of loneliness had passed, dispelled
largely by a bright fire and breakfast, he sallied forth, the
contents of the green box under his arm, to present his letter of
introduction to Sir Richard Phillips, {42b} in whom centred his hopes
of employment.

On arriving at the publisher's house in Tavistock Square, he was
immediately shown into Sir Richard's study, where he found "a tall,
stout man, about sixty, dressed in a loose morning gown," and with
him his confidential clerk Bartlett (the Taggart of Lavengro). Sir
Richard was at first enthusiastic and cordial, but when he learned
from William Taylor's letter that Borrow had come up to earn his
livelihood by authorship, his manner underwent a marked change. The
bluff, hearty expression gave place to "a sinister glance," and
Borrow found that within that loose morning gown there was a second
Sir Richard.

He learned two things--first, that Sir Richard Phillips had retired
from publishing and had reserved only The Monthly Magazine; {43a}
secondly, that literature was a drug upon the market. With airy
self-assertiveness, the ex-publisher dismissed the contents of the
green box that Borrow had brought with him, which had already aroused
considerable suspicion in the mind of the maid who had admitted him
to the publisher's presence.

When he had thoroughly dashed the young author's hopes of employment,
Sir Richard informed him of a new publication he had in preparation,
The Universal Review [The Oxford Review of Lavengro], which was to
support the son of the house and the wife he had married. With a
promise that he should become a contributor to the new review, an
earnest exhortation to write a story in the style of The Dairyman's
Daughter, and an invitation to dinner for the following Sunday, the
first interview between George Borrow and Sir Richard Phillips ended,
and Borrow left the great man's presence to begin his exploration of
London, first leaving his manuscripts at Milman Street. During the
rest of the day he walked "scarcely less than thirty miles about the
big city." It was late when he returned to his lodgings, thoroughly
tired, but with a copy of The Dairyman's Daughter, for "a well-
written tale in the style" of which Sir Richard Phillips "could
afford as much as ten pounds." The day had been one of the most
eventful in Borrow's life.

On the following Sunday Borrow dined at Tavistock Square, and met
Lady Phillips, young Phillips and his bride. He learned that Sir
Richard was a vegetarian of twenty years' standing and a total
abstainer, although meat and wine were not banished from his table.
When publisher and potential author were left alone, the son having
soon followed the ladies into the drawing-room, Borrow heard of Sir
Richard's amiable intentions towards him. He was to compile six
volumes of the lives and trials of criminals [the Newgate Lives and
Trials of Lavengro], each to contain not less than a thousand pages.
{44a} For this work he was to receive the munificent sum of fifty
pounds, which was to cover all expenses incurred in the purchase of
books, papers and manuscripts necessary to the compilation of the
work. This was only one of the employments that the fertile brain of
the publisher had schemed for him. He was also to make himself
useful in connection with the forthcoming Universal Review.
"Generally useful, sir--doing whatever is required of you"; for it
was not Sir Richard's custom to allow young writers to select their
own subjects.