Books: The Life of George Borrow

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It was Borrow's intention to write a book about his visit to
Cornwall, and he even announced it at the end of The Romany Rye. He
was delighted with the Duchy, and evidently gave his relatives to
understand that it was his intention to use the contents of his Note
Books as the nucleus of a book. "He will undoubtedly write a
description of his visit," Mrs Taylor wrote to her friend. "I walked
through the whole of Cornwall and saw everything," Borrow wrote to
his wife after his return to London. "I kept a Journal of every day
I was there, and it fills TWO pocket books."

Borrow left Cornwall the second week in February and was in London on
the 10th, where he was to break his journey home in order to obtain
some data at the British Museum for the Appendix of The Romany Rye.
On 13th February he writes to his wife:-

"For three days I have been working hard at the Museum, I am at
present at Mr Webster's, but not in the three guinea lodgings. I am
in rooms above, for which I pay thirty shillings a week. I live as
economically as I can; but when I am in London I am obliged to be at
certain expense. I must be civil to certain friends who invite me
out and show me every kindness. Please send me a five pound note by
return of post."

His wife appears to have been anxious for his return home, and on the
17th he writes to her:-

"It is hardly worth while making me more melancholy than I am. Come
home, come home! is the cry. And what are my prospects when I get
home? though it is true that they are not much brighter here. I have
nothing to look forward to. Honourable employments are being given
to this and that trumpery fellow; while I, who am an honourable man,
must be excluded from everything."

Of literature he expressed himself as tired, there was little or
nothing to be got out of it, save by writing humbug, which he refused
to do. "My spirits are very low," he continues, "and your letters
make them worse. I shall probably return by the end of next week;
but I shall want more money. I am sorry to spend money for it is our
only friend, and God knows I use as little as possible, but I can't
travel without it." {412b} A few days later there is another letter
with farther reference to money, and protests that he is spending as
little as possible. "Perhaps you had better send another note," he
writes, "and I will bring it home unchanged, if I do not want any
part of it. I have lived very economically as far as I am concerned
personally; I have bought nothing, and have been working hard at the
Museum." {413a}

These constant references to money seem to suggest either some
difference between Borrow and his wife, or that he felt he was
spending too much upon himself and was anticipating her thoughts by
assuring her of how economically he was living. He had an
unquestioned right to spend, for he had added considerable sums to
the exchequer from the profits of his first two books.

Borrow returned to Yarmouth on 25th February. The Romany Rye was now
rapidly nearing completion; but there was no encouragement to publish
a new book. He worked at The Romany Rye, not because he saw profit
in it, not because he was anxious to give another book to an uneager
public; but because of the sting in its tail, because of the
thunderbolt Appendix in which he paid off old scores against the
critics and his personal enemies. The Romany Rye was to him a work
of hate; it was a bomb disguised as a book, which he intended to
throw into the camp of his foes. He was tired of literature, by
which he meant that he was tired of producing his best for a public
that neither wanted nor understood it. He forgot that the works of a
great writer are sometimes printed in his own that they may be read
in another generation.

CHAPTER XXVI: MARCH 1854-MAY 1856

During the months that followed Borrow's return to Great Yarmouth,
the question of the coming summer holiday was discussed. From the
first Borrow himself had been for Wales. He was eager to pursue his
Celtic researches further north. "I should not wonder if he went
into Wales before he returns," Mrs Robert Taylor had written to her
friend during Borrow's stay in Cornwall. His wife and Henrietta had
"a hankering after what is fashionable," and suggested Harrogate or
Leamington. To which Borrow replied that there was nothing he "so
much hated as fashionable life." He, however, gave way, the two
women followed suit, as he had intended they should, and Wales was
decided upon. For Borrow the literature of Wales had always
exercised a great attraction. Her bards were as no other bards. Ab
Gwilym was to him the superior of Chaucer, and Huw Morris "the
greatest songster of the seventeenth century." It was, he confessed,
a desire to put to practical use his knowledge of the Welsh tongue,
"such as it was," that first gave him the idea of going to Wales.

The party left Great Yarmouth on 27th July 1854, spending one night
at Peterborough and three at Chester. They reached Llangollen, which
was to be their head-quarters, on 1st August. On 9th August Mrs
George Borrow wrote to the old lady at Oulton, "We all much enjoy
this wonderful and beautiful country. We are in a lovely quiet spot.
Dear George goes out exploring the mountains, and when he finds
remarkable views takes us of an evening to see them."

Borrow wanted to see Wales and get to know the people, and, above
all, to speak with them in their own language, and on 27th August he
started upon a walking tour to Bangor, where he was to meet his wife
and Henrietta, who were to proceed thither by rail. It was during
this excursion that he encountered the delightful Papist-Orange
fiddler, whose fortunes and fingers fluctuated between "Croppies Get
Up" and "Croppies Lie Down."

From Bangor Borrow explored the surrounding places of interest. He
ascended Snowdon arm-in-arm with Henrietta, singing "at the stretch
of my voice a celebrated Welsh stanza," the boy-guide following
wonderingly behind. In spite of the fatigues of the climb, "the
gallant girl" reached the summit and heard her stepfather declaim two
stanzas of poetry in Welsh, to the grinning astonishment of a small
group of English tourists and the great interest of a Welshman, who
asked Borrow if he were a Breton.

There is no question that Borrow was genuinely attached to Henrietta.
"I generally call her daughter," he writes, "and with good reason,
seeing that she has always shown herself a daughter to me--that she
has all kinds of good qualities, and several accomplishments, knowing
something of conchology, more of botany, drawing capitally in the
Dutch style," {415a} not to speak of her ability to play on the
Spanish guitar. She was "the dear girl," or "the gallant girl,"
between whom and her stepfather existed a true spirit of comradeship.
In 1844 she wrote to him, "And then that FUNNY look {415b} would come
into your eyes and you would call me 'poor old Hen.'" He seemed
incapable of laughing, and one intimate friend states that she "never
saw him even smiling, but there was a twinkle in his eyes which told
you that he was enjoying himself just the same." {416a}

About this time Mrs George Borrow wrote to old Mrs Borrow at Oulton
Hall, saying that all was well with her son.

"He is very regular in his morning and evening devotions, so that we
all have abundant cause for thankfulness . . . As regards your dear
son and his peace and comfort, you have reason to praise and bless
God on his account . . . He is fully occupied. He keeps a DAILY
Journal of all that goes on, so that he can make a most amusing book
in a month, whenever he wishes to do so."

The first sentence is very puzzling, and would seem to suggest that
Borrow's moods were somehow or other associated with outbursts
against religion. "Be sure you BURN this, or do not leave it about,"
the old lady is admonished.

On the day following the ascent of Snowdon, Mrs Borrow and Henrietta
returned to Llangollen by train, leaving Borrow free to pursue his
wanderings. He eventually arrived at Llangollen on 6th September, by
way of Carnarvon, Festiniog and Bala. After remaining another twenty
days at Llangollen, he despatched his wife and stepdaughter home by
rail. He then bought a small leather satchel, with a strap to sling
it over his shoulder, packed in it a white linen shirt, a pair of
worsted stockings, a razor and a prayer-book. Having had his boots
resoled and his umbrella repaired, he left Llangollen for South
Wales, upon an excursion which was to occupy three weeks. During the
course of this expedition he was taken for many things, from a pork-
jobber to Father Toban himself, as whom he pronounced "the best Latin
blessing I could remember" over two or three dozen Irish reapers to
their entire satisfaction. Eventually he arrived at Chepstow, having
learned a great deal about wild Wales.

One of the excursions that Borrow made from Bangor was to Llanfair in
search of Gronwy, the birthplace of Gronwy Owen. He found in the
long, low house an old woman and five children, descendants of the
poet, who stared at him wonderingly. To each he gave a trifle.
Asking whether they could read, he was told that the eldest could
read anything, whether Welsh or English. In Wild Wales he gives an
account of the interview.

"'Can you write?' said I to the child [the eldest], a little stubby
girl of about eight, with a broad flat red face and grey eyes,
dressed in a chintz gown, a little bonnet on her head, and looking
the image of notableness.

"The little maiden, who had never taken her eyes off of me for a
moment during the whole time I had been in the room, at first made no
answer; being, however, bid by her grandmother to speak, she at
length answered in a soft voice, 'Medraf, I can.'

"'Then write your name in this book,' said I, taking out a pocket-
book and a pencil, 'and write likewise that you are related to Gronwy
Owen--and be sure you write in Welsh.'

"The little maiden very demurely took the book and pencil, and
placing the former on the table wrote as follows:-

"'Ellen Jones yn perthyn o bell i gronow owen.' {417a}

"That is, 'Ellen Jones belonging, from afar off to Gronwy Owen.'"
{417b}

Ellen Jones is now Ellen Thomas, and she well remembers Borrow coming
along the lane, where she was playing with some other children, and
asking for the house of Gronwy Owen. Later, when she entered the
house, she found him talking to her grandmother, who was a little
deaf as described in Wild Wales. Mrs Thomas' recollection of Borrow
is that he had the appearance of possessing great strength. He had
"bright eyes and shabby dress, more like a merchant than a gentleman,
or like a man come to buy cattle [others made the same mistake].
But, dear me! he did speak FUNNY Welsh," she remarked to a student of
Borrow who sought her out, he could not pronounce the 'll'
[pronouncing the word "pell" as if it rhymed with tell, whereas it
should be pronounced something like "pelth"], and his voice was very
high; but perhaps that was because my grandmother was deaf." He had
plenty of words, but bad pronunciation. William Thomas {418a}
laughed many a time at him coming talking his funny Welsh to him, and
said he was glad he knew a few words of Spanish to answer him with.
Borrow was, apparently, unconscious of any imperfection in his
pronunciation of the "ll". He has written: "'Had you much
difficulty in acquiring the sound of the "ll"?' I think I hear the
reader inquire. None whatever: the double l of the Welsh is by no
means the terrible guttural which English people generally suppose it
to be." {418b}

Mrs Thomas is now sixty-seven years of age (she was eleven and not
eight at the time of Borrow's visit) and still preserves carefully
wrapped up the book from which she read to the white-haired stranger.
The episode was not thought much of at the time, except by the child,
whom it much excited. {418c}

It was in all probability during this, his first tour in Wales, that
Borrow was lost on Cader Idris, and spent the whole of one night in
wandering over the mountain vainly seeking a path. The next morning
he arrived at the inn utterly exhausted. It was quite in keeping
with Borrow's nature to suppress from his book all mention of this
unpleasant adventure. {419a}

The Welsh holiday was unquestionably a success. Borrow's mind had
been diverted from critics and his lost popularity. He had forgotten
that in official quarters he had been overlooked. He was in the land
of Ab Gwilym and Gronwy Owen. "There never was such a place for
poets," he wrote; "you meet a poet, or the birthplace of a poet,
everywhere." {419b} He was delighted with the simplicity of the
people, and in no way offended by their persistent suspicion of all
things Saxon. At least they knew their own poets; and he could not
help comparing the Welsh labouring man who knew Huw Morris, with his
Suffolk brother who had never heard of Beowulf or Chaucer. He
discoursed with many people about their bards, surprising them by his
intimate knowledge of the poets and the poetry of Wales. He found
enthusiasm "never scoffed at by the noble simple-minded genuine
Welsh, whatever treatment it may receive from the coarse-hearted,
sensual, selfish Saxon." {419c} Sometimes he was reminded "of the
substantial yoemen of Cornwall, particularly . . . of my friends at
Penquite." {419d} Wherever he went he experienced nothing but
kindness and hospitality, and it delighted him to be taken for a
Cumro, as was frequently the case.

What Borrow writes about his Welsh is rather contradictory.
Sometimes he represents himself as taken for a Welshman, at others as
a foreigner speaking Welsh. "Oh, what a blessing it is to be able to
speak Welsh!" {420a} he exclaims. He acknowledged that he could read
Welsh with far more ease than he could speak it. There is absolutely
no posing or endeavour to depict himself a perfect Welsh scholar,
whose accent could not be distinguished from that of a native. The
literary results of the Welsh holiday were four Note Books written in
pencil, from which Wild Wales was subsequently written. Borrow was
in Wales for nearly sixteen weeks (1st Aug.--16th November), of which
about a third was devoted to expeditions on foot.

In the annual consultations about holidays, Borrow's was always the
dominating voice. For the year 1855 the Isle of Man was chosen,
because it attracted him as a land of legend and quaint customs and
speech. Accordingly during the early days of September Mrs Borrow
and Henrietta were comfortably settled at Douglas, and Borrow began
to make excursions to various parts of the island. He explored every
corner of it, conversing with the people in Manx, collecting ballads
and old, smoke-stained carvel {420b} (or carol) books, of which he
was successful in securing two examples. He discovered that the
island possessed a veritable literature in these carvels, which were
circulated in manuscript form among the neighbours of the writers.

The old runic inscriptions that he found on the tombstones exercised
a great fascination over Borrow. He would spend hours, or even days
(on one occasion as much as a week), in deciphering one of them.
Thirty years later he was remembered as an accurate, painstaking man.
His evenings were frequently occupied in translating into English the
Manx poem Illiam Dhoo, or Brown William. He discovered among the
Manx traditions much about Finn Ma Coul, or M'Coyle, who appears in
The Romany Rye as a notability of Ireland. He ascended Snaefell,
sought out the daughter of George Killey, the Manx poet, and had much
talk with her, she taking him for a Manxman. The people of the
island he liked.

"In the whole world," he wrote in his 'Note Books,' "there is not a
more honest, kindly race than the genuine Manx. Towards strangers
they exert unbounded hospitality without the slightest idea of
receiving any compensation, and they are, whether men or women, at
any time willing to go two or three miles over mountain and bog to
put strangers into the right road."

During his stay in the Isle of Man, news reached Borrow of the death
of a kinsman, William, son of Samuel Borrow, his cousin, a cooper at
Devonport. William Borrow had gone to America, where he had won a
prize for a new and wonderful application of steam. His death is
said to have occurred as the result of mental fatigue. In this
Borrow saw cause for grave complaint against the wretched English
Aristocracy that forced talent out of the country by denying it
employment or honour, which were all for their "connections and lick-
spittles."

The holiday in the Isle of Man had resulted in two quarto note books,
aggregating ninety-six pages, closely written in pencil. Again
Borrow planned to write a book, just as he had done on the occasion
of the Cornish visit. Nothing, however, came of it. Among his
papers was found the following draft of a suggested title-page:-

BAYR JAIRGEY
AND
GLION DOO
THE RED PATH AND THE BLACK VALLEY
WANDERINGS IN QUEST OF MANX LITERATURE

A curious feature of Mrs Borrow's correspondence is her friendly
conspiracies, sometimes with John Murray, sometimes with Woodfall,
the printer, asking them to send encouraging letters that shall
hearten Borrow to greater efforts. On 26th November 1850 John Murray
wrote to her: "I have determined on engraving [by W. Holl] Phillips'
portrait {422a} . . . as a frontispiece to it [Lavengro]. I trust
that this will not be disagreeable to you and the author--in fact I
do it in confident expectation that it will meet with YOUR assent; I
do not ask Mr Borrow's leave, remember."

It must be borne in mind that Mrs Borrow had been in London a few
days previously, in order to deliver to John Murray the manuscript of
Lavengro. Mrs Borrow's reply to this letter is significant. With
regard to the engraving, she writes (28th November), "I LIKE THE IDEA
OF IT, and when Mr Borrow remarked that he did not wish it (as we
expected he would) I reminded him that HIS leave WAS not asked."

Again, on 30th October 1852, Mrs Borrow wrote to Robert Cooke asking
that either he or John Murray would write to Borrow enquiring as to
his health, and progress with The Romany Rye, and how long it would
be before the manuscript were ready for the printer. "Of course,"
she adds, "all this is in perfect confidence to Mr Murray and
yourself as you BOTH of you know my truly excellent Husband well
enough to be aware how much he every now and then requires an impetus
to cause the large wheel to move round at a quicker pace . . . Oblige
me by committing this to the flames, and write to him just as you
would have done, without hearing A WORD FROM ME." On yet another
occasion when she and Borrow were both in London, she writes to Cooke
asking that either he "or Mr Murray will give my Husband a look, if
it be only for a few minutes . . . He seems rather low. Do, NOT let
this note remain on your table," she concludes, "or MENTION it."

If Borrow were a problem to his wife and to his publisher, he
presented equal difficulties to the country folk about Oulton. To
one he was "a missionary out of work," to another "a man who kep'
'isself to 'isself"; but to none was he the tired lion weary of the
chase. "His great delight . . . was to plunge into the darkening
mere at eventide, his great head and heavy shoulders ruddy in the
rays of the sun. Here he hissed and roared and spluttered, sometimes
frightening the eel-catcher sailing home in the half-light, and
remembering suddenly school legends of river-sprites and monsters of
the deep." {423a}

In the spring following his return from the Isle of Man, Borrow made
numerous excursions on foot through East Anglia. He seemed too
restless to remain long in one place. During a tramp from Yarmouth
to Ely by way of Cromer, Holt, Lynn and Wisbech, he called upon Anna
Gurney. {423b} His reason for doing so was that she was one of the
three celebrities of the world he desired to see. The other two were
Daniel O'Connell {423c} and Lamplighter (the sire of Phosphorus),
Lord Berners winner of the Derby. Two of the world's notabilities
had slipped through his fingers by reason of their deaths, but he was
determined that Anna Gurney, who lived at North Repps, should not
evade him. He gave her notice of his intention to call, and found
her ready to receive him.

"When, according to his account, {424a} he had been but a very short
time in her presence, she wheeled her chair round and reached her
hand to one of her bookshelves and took down an Arabic grammar, and
put it into his hand, asking for explanation of some difficult point,
which he tried to decipher; but meanwhile she talked to him
continuously; when, said he, 'I could not study the Arabic grammar
and listen to her at the same time, so I threw down the book and ran
out of the room.'"

It is said that Borrow ran until he reached Old Tucker's Inn at
Cromer, where he ate "five excellent sausages" and found calm. He
then went on to Sheringham and related the incident to the Upchers.

These lonely walking tours soothed Borrow's restless mind. He had
constant change of scene, and his thoughts were diverted by the
adventures of the roadside. He encountered many and interesting
people, on one occasion an old man who remembered the fight between
Painter and Oliver; at another time he saw a carter beating his horse
which had fallen down. "Give him a pint of ale, and I will pay for
it," counselled Borrow. After the second pint the beast got up and
proceeded, "pulling merrily . . . with the other horses."

Ale was Borrow's sovereign remedy for the world's ills and wrongs.
It was by ale that he had been cured when the "Horrors" were upon him
in the dingle. "Oh, genial and gladdening is the power of good ale,
the true and proper drink of Englishmen," he exclaims after having
heartened Jack Slingsby and his family. "He is not deserving of the
name of Englishman," he continues, "who speaketh against ale, that is
good ale." {425a} To John Murray (the Third) he wrote in his letter
of sympathy on the death of his father: "Pray keep up your spirits,
and that you may be able to do so, take long walks and drink plenty
of Scotch ale with your dinner . . . God bless you."

He liked ale "with plenty of malt in it, and as little hop as well
may be--ale at least two years old." {425b} The period of its
maturity changed with his mood. In another place he gives nine or
ten months as the ideal age. {425c} He was all for an Act of
Parliament to force people to brew good ale. He not only drank good
ale himself; but prescribed it as a universal elixir for man and
beast. Hearing from

Elizabeth Harvey "of a lady who was attached to a gentleman," Borrow
demanded bluntly, "Well, did he make her an offer?" "No," was the
response. "Ah," Borrow replied with conviction, "if she had given
him some good ale he would." {425d} He loved best old Burton, which,
with '37 port, were his favourites; yet he would drink whatever ale
the roadside-inn provided, as if to discipline his stomach. It has
been said that he habitually drank "swipes," a thin cheap ale,
because that was the drink of his gypsy friends; but Borrow's
friendship certainly did not often involve him in anything so
distasteful.

CHAPTER XXVII: THE ROMANY RYE. 1854-1859

Borrow was not a great correspondent, and he left behind him very few
letters from distinguished men of his time. Among those few were
several from Edward FitzGerald, whose character contrasted so
strangely with that of the tempestuous Borrow. In 1856 FitzGerald
wrote:-

31 GREAT PORTLAND STREET,
LONDON, 27th October 1856.

My Dear Sir,--It is I who send you the new Turkish Dictionary
[Redhouse's Turkish & English Dictionary] which ought to go by this
Post; my reasons being that I bought it really only for the purpose
of doing that little good to the spirited Publisher of the book (who
thought when he began it that the [Crimean] War was to last), and I
send it to you because I should be glad of your opinion, if you can
give it. I am afraid that you will hardly condescend to USE it, for
you abide in the old Meninsky; but if you WILL use it, I shall be
very glad. I don't think _I_ ever shall; and so what is to be done
with it now it is bought?

I don't know what Kerrich told you of my being too LAZY to go over to
Yarmouth to see you a year ago. No such thing as that. I simply had
doubts as to whether you would not rather remain unlookt for. I know
I enjoyed my evening with you a month ago. I wanted to ask you to
read some of the Northern Ballads too; but you shut the book.

I must tell you. I am come up here on my way to Chichester to be
married! to Miss Barton (of Quaker memory) and our united ages amount
to 96!--a dangerous experiment on both sides. She at least brings a
fine head and heart to the bargain--worthy of a better market. But
it is to be, and I dare say you will honestly wish we may do well.

Keep the book as long as you will. It is useless to me. I shall be
to be heard of through Geldeston Hall, Beccles. With compliments to
Mrs Borrow, believe me,

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