Читать книгу The Life of George Borrow - Herbert George Jenkins - Страница 10

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From the autumn of 1825 until the winter of 1832, when he obtained an introduction to the British & Foreign Bible Society, only fragmentary details of Borrow’s life exist. He decided to keep sacred to himself the “Veiled Period,” as it came to be called. In all probability it was a time of great hardship and mortification, and he wished it to be thought that the whole period was devoted to “a grand philological expedition,” or expeditions. There is no doubt that some portion of the mysterious epoch was so spent, but not all. Many of the adventures ascribed to characters in Lavengro and The Romany Rye were, most probably, Borrow’s own experiences during that period of mystery and misfortune. Time after time he was implored to “lift up a corner of the curtain”; but he remained obdurate, and the seven years are in his life what the New Orleans days were in that of Walt Whitman.

Soon after his return to Norwich, Borrow seems to have turned his attention to the manuscripts in the green box. In the days of happy augury, before he had quarrelled with Sir Richard Phillips, there had appeared in The Monthly Magazine the two following paragraphs:—

“We have heard and seen much of the legends and popular superstitions of the North, but, in truth, all the exhibitions of these subjects which have hitherto appeared in England have been translations from the German. Mr Olaus Borrow, who is familiar with the Northern Languages, proposes, however, to present these curious reliques of romantic antiquity directly from the Danish and Swedish, and two elegant volumes of them now printing will appear in September. They are highly interesting in themselves, but more so as the basis of most of the popular superstitions of England, when they were introduced during the incursions and dominion of the Danes and Norwegians.” (1st September 1824.)

“We have to acknowledge the favour of a beautiful collection of Danish songs and ballads, of which a specimen will be seen among the poetical articles of the present month. One, or more, of these very interesting translations will appear in each succeeding number.” (1st December 1824.)

It seems to have been Borrow’s plan to run his ballads serially through The Monthly Magazine and then to publish them in book-form. His initial contribution to The Monthly Magazine had appeared in October 1823. The first of the articles, entitled “Danish Traditions and Superstitions,” appeared August 1824, and continued, with the omission of one or two months, until December 1825, there being in all nine articles; but there was only one instalment of “Danish Songs and Ballads.” [73]

Borrow was determined that these ballads, at least, should be published, and he set to work to prepare them for the press. Allan Cunningham, with whom Borrow was acquainted, contributed, at his request, a metrical dedication. The volume appeared on 10th May, in an edition of five hundred copies at ten shillings and sixpence each. It appears that some two hundred copies were subscribed for, thus ensuring the cost of production. The balance, or a large proportion of it, was consigned to John Taylor, the London publisher, who printed a new title-page and sold them at seven shillings each, probably the trade price for a half-guinea book.

Cunningham wrote to Borrow advising him to send out freely copies for review, and with each a note saying that it was the translator’s ultimate intention to publish an English version of the whole Kiæmpe Viser with notes; also to “scatter a few judiciously among literary men.” It is doubtful if this sage counsel were acted upon; for there is no record of any review or announcement of the work. This in itself was not altogether a misfortune; for Borrow did not prove himself an inspired translator of verse. Apart from the two hundred copies sold to subscribers, the book was still-born.

After the publication of Romantic Ballads, Borrow appears to have returned to London, not to his old lodging at Milman Street, possibly on account of the associations, but to 26 Bryanston Street, Portman Square, from which address he wrote to Benjamin Haydon the following note:—[74]

Dear Sir,—

I should feel extremely obliged if you would allow me to sit to you as soon as possible. I am going to the South of France in little better than a fortnight, and I would sooner lose a thousand pounds than not have the honour of appearing in the picture.

Yours sincerely,

George Borrow.

In his account of how he first became acquainted with Haydon, Borrow shows himself as anything but desirous of appearing in a picture. When John tells of the artist’s wish to include him as one of the characters in a painting upon which he is engaged, Borrow replies: “I have no wish to appear on canvas.” It is probable that in some way or other Haydon offended his sitter, who, regretting his acquiescence, antedated the episode and depicted himself as refusing the invitation. Such a liberty with fact and date would be quite in accordance with Borrow’s autobiographical methods.

Borrow wrote in Lavengro, “I have been a wanderer the greater part of my life; indeed I remember only two periods, and these by no means lengthy, when I was, strictly speaking, stationary.” [75a] One of the “two periods” was obviously the eight years spent at Norwich, 1816–24, the other is probably the years spent at Oulton. Thus the “Veiled Period” may be assumed to have been one of wandering. The seven years are gloomy and mysterious, but not utterly dark. There is a hint here, a suggestion there—a letter or a paragraph, that gives in a vague way some idea of what Borrow was doing, and where. It seems comparatively safe to assume that after the publication of Romantic Ballads he plunged into a life of roving and vagabondage, which, in all probability, was brought to an abrupt termination by either the loss or the exhaustion of his money. Anything beyond this is pure conjecture. [75b]

After he became associated with the British & Foreign Bible Society, his movements are easily accounted for; but all we have to guide us as to what countries he had seen before 1833 is an occasional hint. He casually admits having been in Italy, [75c] at Bayonne, [75d] Paris, [75e] Madrid, [75f] the south of France. [75g] “I have visited most of the principal capitals of the world,” he writes in 1843; and again in the same year, “I have heard the ballad of Alonzo Guzman chanted in Danish, by a hind in the wilds of Jutland.” [76a] “I have lived in different parts of the world, much amongst the Hebrew race, and I am well acquainted with their words and phraseology,” [76b] he writes; and on another occasion: “I have seen gypsies of various lands, Russian, Hungarian, and Turkish; and I have also seen the legitimate children of most countries of the world.” [76c] An even more significant admission is that made when Colonel Elers Napier, whom Borrow met in Seville in 1839, enquired where he had obtained his knowledge of Moultanee. “Some years ago, in Moultan,” was the reply; then, as if regretting that he had confessed so much, showed by his manner that he intended to divulge nothing more. [76d]

“Once, during my own wanderings in Italy,” Borrow writes, “I rested at nightfall by the side of a kiln, the air being piercingly cold; it was about four leagues from Genoa.” [76e] Again, “Once in the south of France, when I was weary, hungry, and penniless, I observed one of these last patterans [76f] [a cross marked in the dust], and following the direction pointed out, arrived at the resting-place of ‘certain Bohemians,’ by whom I was received with kindness and hospitality, on the faith of no other word of recommendation than patteran.” [76g] In a letter of introduction to the Rev. E. Whitely, of Oporto, the Rev. Andrew Brandram, of the Bible Society, wrote in 1835: “With Portugal he [Borrow] is already acquainted, and speaks the language.” This statement is significant, for only during the “Veiled Period” could Borrow have visited Portugal.

It may be argued that Borrow was merely posing as a great traveller, but the foregoing remarks are too casual, too much in the nature of asides, to be the utterances of a poseur. A man seeking to impress himself upon the world as a great traveller would probably have been a little more definite.

The only really reliable information as to Borrow’s movements after his arrival in London is contained in the note to Haydon. In all probability he went to Paris, where possibly he met Vidocq, the master-rogue turned detective. [77a] It has been suggested by Dr Knapp that he went to Paris, and thence on foot to Bayonne and Madrid, after which he tramped to Pamplona, where he gets into trouble, is imprisoned, and is released on condition that he leave the country; he proceeds towards Marseilles and Genoa, where he takes ship and is landed safely in London. The data, however, upon which this itinerary is constructed are too frail to be convincing. There is every probability that he roamed about the Continent and met with adventures—he was a man to whom adventures gravitated quite naturally—but the fact of his saying that he had been imprisoned on three occasions, and there being only two instances on record at the time, cannot in itself be considered as conclusive evidence of his having been arrested at Pamplona. [77b]

In the spring of 1827 Borrow was unquestionably at Norwich, for he saw the famous trotting stallion Marshland Shales on the Castle Hill (12th April), and did for that grand horse “what I would neither do for earl or baron, doffed my hat.” [78] Borrow apparently remained with his mother for some months, to judge from certain entries (29th September to 19th November) in his hand that appear in her account books.

In December 1829 he was back again in London at 77 Great Russell Street, W.C. He was as usual eager to obtain some sort of work. He wrote to “the Committee of the Honourable and Praiseworthy Association, known by the name of the Highland Society . . . a body animate with patriotism, which, guided by philosophy, produces the noblest results, and many of whose members stand amongst the very eminent in the various departments of knowledge.”

The project itself was that of translating into English “the best and most approved poetry of the Ancient and Modern Scoto-Gaelic Bards, with such notes on the usages and superstitions therein alluded to, as will enable the English reader to form a clear and correct idea of the originals.” In the course of a rather ornate letter, Borrow offers himself as the translator and compiler of such a work as he suggests, avowing his willingness to accept whatsoever remuneration might be thought adequate compensation for his expenditure of time. Furthermore, he undertakes to complete the work within a period of two years.

On 7th December he wrote to Dr Bowring, recently returned from Denmark:—

“Lest I should intrude upon you when you are busy, I write to enquire when you will be unoccupied. I wish to show you my translation of The Death of Balder, Ewald’s most celebrated production, which, if you approve of, you will perhaps render me some assistance in bringing forth, for I don’t know many publishers. I think this will be a proper time to introduce it to the British public, as your account of Danish literature will doubtless cause a sensation.” [79]

On 29th December he wrote again:—

“When I had last the pleasure of being at yours, you mentioned that we might at some future period unite our strength in composing a kind of Danish Anthology. Suppose we bring forward at once the first volume of the Danish Anthology, which should contain the heroic supernatural songs of the K[iæmpe] V[iser].”

It was suggested that there should be four volumes in all, and the first, with an introduction that Borrow expressed himself as not ashamed of, was ready and “might appear instanter, with no further trouble to yourself than writing, if you should think fit, a page or two of introductory matter.” Dr Bowring replied by return of post that he thought that no more than two volumes could be ventured on, and Borrow acquiesced, writing: “The sooner the work is advertised the better, for I am terribly afraid of being forestalled in the Kiæmpe Viser by some of those Scotch blackguards, who affect to translate from all languages, of which they are fully as ignorant as Lockhart is of Spanish.”

Borrow was full of enthusiasm for the project, and repeated that the first volume was ready, adding: “If we unite our strength in the second, I think we can produce something worthy of fame, for we shall have plenty of matter to employ talent upon.” A later letter, which was written from 7 Museum Street (8th January), told how he had “been obliged to decamp from Russell St. for the cogent reason of an execution having been sent into the house, and I thought myself happy in escaping with my things.”

He drew up a prospectus, endeavouring “to assume a Danish style,” which he submitted to his collaborator, begging him to “alter . . . whatever false logic has crept into it, find a remedy for its incoherencies, and render it fit for its intended purpose. I have had for the two last days a rising headache which has almost prevented me doing anything.”

It would appear that Dr Bowring did not altogether approve of the “Danish style,” for on 14th January Borrow wrote, “I approve of the prospectus in every respect; it is business-like, and there is nothing flashy in it. I do not wish to suggest one alteration . . . When you see the foreign Editor,” he continues, “I should feel much obliged if you would speak to him about my reviewing Tegner, and enquire whether a good article on Welsh poetry would be received. I have the advantage of not being a Welshman. I would speak the truth, and would give translations of some of the best Welsh poetry; and I really believe that my translations would not be the worst that have been made from the Welsh tongue.”

The prospectus, which appeared in several publications ran as follows:—

“Dr Bowring and Mr George Borrow are about to publish, dedicated to the King of Denmark, by His Majesy’s permission, THE SONGS OF SCANDINAVIA, in 2 vols. 8vo, containing a Selection of the most interesting of the Historical and Romantic Ballads of North-Western Europe, with Specimens of the Danish and Norwegian Poets down to the present day.

Price to Subscribers, £1, 1s.—to Non-Subscribers £1, 5s.

The First Volume will be devoted to Ancient Popular Poetry; the Second will give the choicest productions of the Modern School, beginning with Tullin.” [81]

The Songs of Scandinavia now became to Borrow what the Celebrated Trials had been four years previously, a source of constant toil. On one occasion he writes to Dr Bowring telling him that he has just translated an ode “as I breakfasted.” What Borrow lived on at this period it is impossible to say. It may be assumed that Mrs Borrow did not keep him, for, apart from the slender proportions of the income of the mother, the unconquerable independence of the son must be considered; and Borrow loved his mother too tenderly to allow her to deprive herself of luxuries even to keep him. He borrowed money from her at various times; but he subsequently faithfully repaid her. Even John was puzzled. “You never tell me what you are doing,” he writes to his brother at the end of 1832; “you can’t be living on nothing.”

Borrow appears to have kept Dr Bowring well occupied with suggestions as to how that good-natured man might assist him. Although he is to see him on the morrow, he writes on the evening of 21st May regarding another idea that has just struck him:

“As at present no doubt seems to be entertained of Prince Leopold’s accepting the sovereignty of Greece, would you have any objection to write to him concerning me? I should be very happy to go to Greece in his service. I do not wish to go in a civil or domestic capacity, and I have, moreover, no doubt that all such situations have been long since filled up; I wish to go in a military one, for which I am qualified by birth and early habits. You might inform the Prince that I have been for years on the Commander-in-Chiefs list for a commission, but that I have not had sufficient interest to procure an appointment. One of my reasons for wishing to reside in Greece is, that the mines of Eastern literature would be accessible to me. I should soon become an adept in Turkish, and would weave and transmit to you such an anthology as would gladden your very heart. As for the Songs of Scandinavia, all the ballads would be ready before departure, and as I should have books, I would in a few months send you translations of the modern Lyric Poetry. I hope this letter will not displease you. I do not write it from flightiness, but from thoughtfulness. I am uneasy to find myself at four and twenty drifting on the sea of the world, and likely to continue so.”

On 22nd May Dr Bowring introduced Borrow to Dr Grundtvig, the Danish poet, who required some transcriptions done. On 7th June, Borrow wrote to Dr Bowring:

“I have looked over Mr Gruntvig’s (sic) manuscript. It is a very long affair, and the language is Norman Saxon. £40 would not be an extravagant price for a transcript, and so they told him at the Museum. However, as I am doing nothing particular at present, and as I might learn something from transcribing it, I would do it for £20. He will call on you to-morrow morning, and then, if you please, you may recommend me. The character closely resembles the ancient Irish, so I think you can answer for my competency.”

At this time there were a hundred schemes seething through Borrow’s eager brain. Hearing that “an order has been issued for the making a transcript of the celebrated Anglo-Saxon Codex of Exeter, for the use of the British Museum,” he applied to some unknown correspondent for his interest and help to obtain the appointment as transcriber. The work, however, was carried out by a Museum official.

Another project appears to have been to obtain a post at the British Museum. On 9th March 1830 he had written to Dr Bowring:

“I have thought over the Museum matter, which we were talking about last night, and it appears to me that it would be the very thing for me, provided that it could be accomplished. I should feel obliged if you would deliberate upon the best mode of proceeding, so that when I see you again I may have the benefit of your advice.”

In reply Dr Bowring commended the scheme, and promised to assist “by every sort of counsel and exertion. But it would injure you,” he proceeds, “if I were to take the initiative. [The Gibraltar house of Bowring & Murdock had recently failed.] Quietly make yourself master of that department of the Museum. We must then think of how best to get at the Council. If by any management they can be induced to ask my opinion, I will give you a character which shall take you to the top of Hecla itself. You have claims, strong ones, and I should rejoice to see you niched in the British Museum.”

Again failure! Disappointment seemed to be dogging Borrow’s footsteps at this period. For years past he had been seeking some sort of occupation, into which he could throw all that energy and determination of character that he possessed. He was earnest and able, and he knew that he only required an opportunity of showing to the world what manner of man he was. He seemed doomed to meet everywhere with discouragement; for no one wanted him, just as no one wanted his translations of the glorious Ab Gwilym. He appeared before the world as a failure, which probably troubled him very little; but there was another aspect of the case that was in his eyes, “the most heartbreaking of everything, the strange, the disadvantageous light in which I am aware that I must frequently have appeared to those whom I most love and honour.” [83]

On 14th September he wrote to Dr Bowring:

“I am going to Norwich for some short time, as I am very unwell and hope that cold bathing in October and November may prove of service to me. My complaints are, I believe, the offspring of ennui and unsettled prospects. I have thoughts of attempting to get into the French service, as I should like prodigiously to serve under Clausel in the next Bedouin campaign. I shall leave London next Sunday and will call some evening to take my leave; I cannot come in the morning, as early rising kills me.”

A year later he writes again to Dr Bowring, who once more has been exerting himself on his friend’s behalf:

“Willow Lane, Norwich,

11th September 1831.

My dear Sir,—

I return you my most sincere thanks for your kind letter of the 2nd inst., and though you have not been successful in your application to the Belgian authorities in my behalf, I know full well that you did your utmost, and am only sorry that at my instigation you attempted an impossibility.

The Belgians seem either not to know or not to care for the opinion of the great Cyrus who gives this advice to his captains. ‘Take no heed from what countries ye fill up your ranks, but seek recruits as ye do horses, not those particularly who are of your own country, but those of merit.’ The Belgians will only have such recruits as are born in Belgium, and when we consider the heroic manner in which the native Belgian army defended the person of their new sovereign in the last conflict with the Dutch, can we blame them for their determination? It is rather singular, however, that resolved as they are to be served only by themselves they should have sent for 5000 Frenchmen to clear their country of a handful of Hollanders, who have generally been considered the most unwarlike people in Europe, but who, if they had fair play given them, would long ere this time have replanted the Orange flag on the towers of Brussels, and made the Belgians what they deserve to be, hewers of wood and drawers of water.

And now, my dear Sir, allow me to reply to a very important part of your letter; you ask me whether I wish to purchase a commission in the British service, because in that case you would speak to the Secretary at War about me. I must inform you therefore that my name has been for several years upon the list for the purchase of a commission, and I have never yet had sufficient interest to procure an appointment. If I can do nothing better I shall be very glad to purchase; but I will pause two or three months before I call upon you to fulfil your kind promise. It is believed that the Militia will be embodied in order to be sent to that unhappy country Ireland, and provided I can obtain a commission in one of them, and they are kept in service, it would be better than spending £500 about one in the line. I am acquainted with the Colonels of the two Norfolk regiments, and I daresay that neither of them would have any objection to receive me. If they are not embodied I will most certainly apply to you, and you may say when you recommend me that being well grounded in Arabic, and having some talent for languages, I might be an acquisition to a corps in one of our Eastern Colonies. I flatter myself that I could do a great deal in the East provided I could once get there, either in a civil or military capacity; there is much talk at present about translating European books into the two great languages, the Arabic and Persian; now I believe that with my enthusiasm for these tongues I could, if resident in the East, become in a year or two better acquainted with them than any European has been yet, and more capable of executing such a task. Bear this in mind, and if before you hear from me again you should have any opportunity to recommend me as a proper person to fill any civil situation in those countries or to attend any expedition thither, I pray you to lay hold of it, and no conduct of mine shall ever give you reason to repent it.

I remain,

My Dear Sir,

Your most obliged and obedient Servant,

George Borrow.

P.S.—Present my best remembrances to Mrs B. and to Edgar, and tell them that they will both be starved. There is now a report in the street that twelve corn-stacks are blazing within twenty miles of this place. I have lately been wandering about Norfolk, and I am sorry to say that the minds of the peasantry are in a horrible state of excitement; I have repeatedly heard men and women in the harvest-field swear that not a grain of the corn they were cutting should be eaten, and that they would as lieve be hanged as live. I am afraid all this will end in a famine and a rustic war.”

It was pride that prompted Borrow to ask Dr Bowring to stay his hand for the moment about a commission. There was no reasonable possibility of his being able to raise £500. Even if his mother had possessed it, which she did not, he would not have drained her resources of so large an amount. His subsequent attitude towards the Belgians was characteristic of him. To his acutely sensitive perceptions, failure to obtain an appointment he sought was a rebuff, and his whole nature rose up against what, at the moment, appeared to be an intolerable slight.

Nothing came of the project of collaboration between Bowring and Borrow beyond an article on Danish and Norwegian literature that appeared in The Foreign Quarterly Review (June 1830), in which Borrow supplied translations of the sixteen poems illustrating Bowring’s text. In all probability the response to the prospectus was deemed inadequate, and Bowring did not wish to face a certain financial loss.

From Borrow’s own letters there is no question that Dr Bowring was acting towards him in a most friendly manner, and really endeavouring to assist him to obtain some sort of employment. It may be, as has been said, and as seems extremely probable, that Bowring used his “facility in acquiring and translating tongues deliberately as a ladder to an administrative post abroad,” [86a] but if Borrow “put a wrong construction upon his sympathy” and was led into “a veritable cul-de-sac of literature,” [86b] it was no fault of Bowring’s.

Borrow’s relations with Dr Bowring continued to be most cordial for many years, as his letters show. “Pray excuse me for troubling you with these lines,” he writes years later; “I write to you, as usual, for assistance in my projects, convinced that you will withhold none which it may be in your power to afford, more especially when by so doing you will perhaps be promoting the happiness of our fellow-creatures.” This is very significant as indicating the nature of the relations between the two men.

Borrow was to experience yet another disappointment. A Welsh bookseller, living in the neighbourhood of Smithfield, commissioned him to translate into English Elis Wyn’s The Sleeping Bard, a book printed originally in 1703. The bookseller foresaw for the volume a large sale, not only in England but in Wales; but “on the eve of committing it to the press, however, the Cambrian-Briton felt his small heart give way within him. ‘Were I to print it,’ said he, ‘I should be ruined; the terrible descriptions of vice and torment would frighten the genteel part of the English public out of its wits, and I should to a certainty be prosecuted by Sir James Scarlett . . . Myn Diawl! I had no idea, till I had read him in English, that Elis Wyn had been such a terrible fellow.’” [87a]

With this Borrow had to be content and retire from the presence of the little bookseller, who told him he was “much obliged . . . for the trouble you have given yourself on my account,” [87b] and his bundle of manuscript, containing nearly three thousand lines, the work probably of some months, was to be put aside for thirty years before eventually appearing in a limited edition.

It cannot be determined with exactness when Borrow relinquished the unequal struggle against adverse circumstances in London. He had met with sufficient discouragement to dishearten him from further effort. Perhaps his greatest misfortune was his disinclination to make friends with anybody save vagabonds. He could attract and earn the friendship of an apple-woman, thimble-riggers, tramps, thieves, gypsies, in short with any vagrant he chose to speak to; but his hatred of gentility was a great and grave obstacle in the way of his material advancement. His brother John seemed to recognise this; for in 1831 he wrote, “I am convinced that your want of success in life is more owing to your being unlike other people than to any other cause.”

It would appear that, finding nothing to do in London, Borrow once more became a wanderer. He was in London in March; but on 27th, 28th, and 29th July 1830 he was unquestionably in Paris. Writing about the Revolution of La Granja (August 1836) and of the energy, courage and activity of the war correspondents, he says:

“I saw them [the war correspondents] during the three days at Paris, mingled with canaille and gamins behind the barriers, whilst the mitraille was flying in all directions, and the desperate cuirassiers were dashing their fierce horses against these seemingly feeble bulwarks. There stood they, dotting down their observations in their pocket-books as unconcernedly as if reporting the proceedings of a reform meeting in Covent Garden or Finsbury Square.” [88a]

This can have reference only to the “Three Glorious Days” of Revolution, 27th to 29th July 1830, during which Charles X. lost, and Louis-Philippe gained, a throne. He returned to Norwich sometime during the autumn of 1830. [88b] In November he was entering upon his epistolary duel with the Army Pay Office in connection with John’s half-pay as a lieutenant in the West Norfolk Militia.

In 1826 John had gone to Mexico, then looked upon as a land of promise for young Englishmen, who might expect to find fortunes in its silver mines. Allday, brother of Roger Kerrison, was there, and John Borrow determined to join him. Obtaining a year’s leave of absence from his colonel, together with permission to apply for an extension, he entered the service of the Real del Monte Company, receiving a salary of three hundred pounds a year. He arranged that his mother should have his half-pay, and it was in connection with this that George entered upon a correspondence with the Army Pay Office that was to extend over a period of fifteen months.

Originally John had arranged for the amounts to be remitted to Mexico, and he sent them back again to his mother. This involved heavy losses in connection with the bills of exchange, and wishing to avoid this tax, John sent to his brother an official copy of a Mexican Power of Attorney, which George strove to persuade the Army Pay Office was the original.

Tact was unfortunately not one of George Borrow’s acquirements at this period, and in this correspondence he adopted an attitude that must have seriously prejudiced his case. “I am a solicitor myself, Sir,” he states, and proceeds to threaten to bring the matter before Parliament. He writes to the Solicitor of the Treasury “as a member of the same honourable profession to which I was myself bred up,” and demands whether he has not law, etc., on his side. The outcome of the correspondence was that the disembodied allowance was refused on the plea “that Lieutenant Borrow having been absent without Leave from the Training of the West Norfolk Militia has, under the provisions of the 12th Section of the Militia Pay and Clothing Act, forfeited his Allowance.” In consequence, payment was made only for the amount due from 25th June 1829 to 24th December 1830. The whole tone of Borrow’s letters was unfortunate for the cause he pleaded. He wrote to the Secretary of State for War as he might have written to the little Welsh bookseller with “the small heart.” He was indignant at what he conceived to be an injustice, and was unable to dissemble his anger.

George had thought of joining his brother, but had not received any very marked encouragement to do so. John despised Mexican methods. On one occasion he writes apropos of George’s suggestion of the army, “If you can raise the pewter, come out here rather than that, and rob.” One sage thing at least John is to be credited with, when he wrote to his brother, “Do not enter the army; it is a bad spec.” It would have been for George Borrow.

Among the papers left at Borrow’s death was a fragment of a political article in dispraise of the Radicals. The editorial “We” suggests that Borrow might possibly have been engaged in political journalism. The statement made by him that he “frequently spoke up for Wellington” [90] may or may not have had reference to contributions to the press. The fragment itself proves nothing. Many would-be journalists write “leaders” that never see the case-room.

It is useless to speculate further regarding the period that Borrow himself elected to veil from the eyes, not only of his contemporaries, but those of another generation. Men who have overcome adverse conditions and achieved fame are not as a rule averse from publishing, or at least allowing to be known, the difficulties that they had to contend with. Borrow was in no sense of the word an ordinary man. He unquestionably suffered acutely during the years of failure, when it seemed likely that his life was to be wasted, barren of anything else save the acquirement of a score or more languages; keys that could open literary storehouses that nobody wanted to explore, to the very existence of which, in fact, the public was frigidly indifferent.

“Poor George . . . I wish he was making money . . . He works hard and remains poor,” is the comment of his brother John, written in the autumn of 1830. To no small degree Borrow was responsible for his own failure, or perhaps it would be more just to say that he had been denied many of the attributes that make for success. His independence was aggressive, and it offended people. Even with the Welsh Preacher and his wife he refused to unbend.

“‘What a disposition!’” Winifred had exclaimed, holding up her hands; “‘and this is pride, genuine pride—that feeling which the world agrees to call so noble. Oh, how mean a thing is pride! never before did I see all the meanness of what is called pride!’” [91a]

This pride, magnificent as the loneliness of kings, and about as unproductive of a sympathetic view of life, always constituted a barrier in the way of Borrow’s success. There were innumerable other obstacles: his choice of friends, his fierce denunciatory hatred of gentility, together with humbug, which he always seemed to confuse with it, the attacks of the “Horrors,” his grave bearing, which no laugh ever disturbed, and, above all, his uncompromising hostility to the things that the world chose to consider excellent. The world in return could make nothing of a man who was a mass of moods and sensibilities, strange tastes and pursuits. It is not remarkable that he should fail to make the stir that he had hoped to make.

With the unerring instinct of a hypersensitive nature, he knew his merit, his honesty, his capacity—knew that he possessed one thing that eventually commands success, which “through life has ever been of incalculable utility to me, and has not unfrequently supplied the place of friends, money, and many other things of almost equal importance—iron perseverance, without which all the advantages of time and circumstance are of very little avail in any undertaking.” [91b] It was this dogged determination that was to carry him through the most critical period of his life, enable him to earn the approval of those in whose interests he worked, and eventually achieve fame and an unassailable place in English literature.