The Norwich of Borrow's early years was noted for its literary and
artistic associations, and the names of some of its more distinguished
writers and painters were household words in the land. Harriet Martineau
had "left off darning stockings to take to literature"; Dr. Taylor was
opening up to English readers a new field in German writings; John Sell
Cotman was making a name for himself; and Opie, who "lived to paint," was
often seen at Earlham, Keswick, and in the city streets. Such names as
these, and of Elizabeth Fry, Sir James Smith (who founded the Linnaean
Society), and Mrs. Opie would fall upon the ear of the young lawyer's
clerk whenever he mixed in polite society. The old city was then
enjoying a reputation that was worthy of its best traditions; and it
still prides itself on the memory of those golden days.
A bookish youth could not fail to be influenced by such associations, and
it may well be that Borrow's thoughts were first drawn into a literary
groove by a knowledge of what certain of these Norwich celebrities were
doing. The delight he had found in the pages of his book of Danish
ballads, inspired him to turn his pen from the copying of deeds to the
writing of verses. His "Romantic Ballads from the Danish," printed by
Simon Wilkins of Norwich, and consisting of translations from his prized
volume, appeared in 1826. Dr. Jessop surmises that these translations
must have brought him in a very respectable sum, but Mr. Augustus
Birrell, in his own inimitable way, expresses his doubt on the point. "I
hope it was so," he writes, "but, as Dr. Johnson once said about the
immortality of the soul, I should like more evidence of it."
Borrow's translations and linguistic pursuits, however, were not allowed
to occupy all his spare hours in those early days. Norwich and its
neighbourhood had too much to show him, and to move him to reflection and
enthusiasm, to allow this to be the case. By degrees, he came to love
the old city, as he never got to love any other place in after-life.
Writing many years later, the memories of it flooded in upon his brain
until he saw its castle and cathedral, its homes and hospitality, in such
a rosy light as never glowed upon the scenes through which he journeyed
in after years. "Who can wonder," he asks, "that the children of that
fine old city are proud of her, and offer up prayers for her prosperity?
I, myself, who was not born within her walls, offer up prayers for her
prosperity, that want may never visit her cottages, vice her palaces, and
that the abomination of idolatry may never pollute her temples."
The grey old castle and stately cathedral were a never-failing source of
interest, worship and delight to him, as they have been to many who
cannot claim East Anglia for their homeland. Often he would lie upon the
grass in the sunlight and watch the rooks and choughs circle about their
battlements and spires. As he said, he was not formed for an indoor
student, and outdoor life had ever a greater charm for him than the
library or the study. Often with rod and gun (he had an old Tower musket
nearly eighty years old) he would go down amongst the marshes to angle or
shoot as the fancy took him and the season gave him sport. Fortunately,
the old fowling-piece was sound, although condemned on account of its
age, and he never came to harm by it; indeed, if we may believe him in
this matter--and it is always hard to put implicit faith in a solitary
sportsman or angler--he did considerable execution amongst the birds of
the Broadland.
Still there were times when even the attraction of the rod and gun were
not sufficient to keep him from dreaming. Then, he would throw himself
down on some mossy bank and let his mind wander back into the mists and
mysteries of the days of yore. There was one favourite spot of his,
where, from beneath an arch, "the waters rush garrulously into a blue
pool, and are there stilled for a time, for the pool is deep, and they
appear to have sunk to sleep. Further on, however, you hear their voice
again, where they ripple gaily over yon gravelly shallow. On the left,
the hill slopes gently down to the margin of the stream. On the right is
a green level, a smiling meadow; grass of the richest decks the side of
the slope; mighty trees also adorn it, giant elms, the nearest of which,
when the sun is nigh its meridian, fling a broad shadow on the face of
the pool; through yon vista you catch a glimpse of the ancient brick of
an old English hall." This old hall stood on the site of an older
hearthstead called the Earl's Home, where lived some "Sigurd or Thorkild"
in the days "when Thor and Freya were yet gods, and Odin was a portentous
name." Earlham stands to-day as it did in Borrow's time, and, no doubt,
other Norwich lads at times lie out on the hillside dreaming of the
sea-rovers of Scandinavia who ravaged the hearths and homes of the
marshland folk of East Anglia.
Amongst the Norwich celebrities whom Borrow met, was Joseph John Gurney
of Earlham, the large-hearted Quaker brother of Elizabeth Fry. Mr.
Gurney seems to have come across him one day while he was fishing, and to
have remonstrated with him for taking pleasure in such "a cruel
diversion." He was a tall man, "dressed in raiment of a quaint and
singular fashion, but of goodly materials. He was in the pride and
vigour of manhood (Joseph John Gurney was born in 1788); his features
handsome and noble, but full of calmness and benevolence; at least I
thought so, though they were somewhat shaded by a hat of finest beaver,
with broad drooping eaves."
The worthy Quaker, whose words had the effect of lessening Borrow's
inclination for angling, invited him to Earlham that he might search the
library there for any such works as might please and interest him. This
was an occupation so much to Borrow's taste, that we wonder he did not
accept the invitation. He did not do so, however, but sought out far
different companions--namely, the Romanies whom he met at Tombland Fair
and on Mousehold Heath. It was many years after that he paid his first
visit to Earlham. Gurney did not then remember him as the youth whom he
had met by the side of the marshland stream; but he took him to the
library, and showed him the books of which he had spoken many years
before. One of them was the work of a moneychanger. "I am a banker
myself," said Gurney, and the fact seems to have been the cause of
reproachings on the part of some of the Norwich "Friends." A letter of
his appears in the chronicles of "The Gurneys of Earlham," in which he
writes: "I suppose my leading object in life may be said to be the bank.
It sometimes startles me to find my leading object of such a nature, and
now and then I doubt whether it is quite consistent with my religious
pursuits and duties." Eventually he arrives at the conclusion that:
"While I am a banker, the bank must be attended to. It is obviously the
religious duty of a trustee to so large an amount to be diligent in
watching his trust." Borrow, with whom he discussed the matter, sums up
the case by exclaiming, "Would that there were many like him, amidst the
money-changers of princes! The hall of many an earl lacks the bounty,
the palace of many a prelate the piety and learning, which adorn the
quiet Quaker's home."
* * * * *
It was the death of his father that brought about the first severing of
Borrow's connection with Norwich. Captain Borrow, as his portrait shows
and his son declares, had been a sturdy soldier, possessing great
physical strength. He enjoyed several years of quiet domestic life
before the end came, and lingered for some months after the fatal illness
seized him. At times he would rally, so that he could walk abroad a
little, or sit up in the small parlour of the house in Willow Lane,
wearing an old regimental coat, and with his dog at his feet. He used to
have long talks with George on such occasions, and would relate to him
stories of his past life, and the distinguished people he had met. "He
had frequently conversed--almost on terms of familiarity--with good old
George. He had known the conqueror of Tippoo Saib: and was the friend of
Townshend, who, when Wolfe fell, led the British Grenadiers against the
shrinking regiments of Montcalm."
The old veteran's elder son, John, who was absent from England, hastened
home just in time to receive his father's blessing. In the middle of the
night, a sudden relapse brought the dying man's wife and sons to his
bedside. In his last moments, his mind wandered and he spoke of "Minden,
and of Meredith, the old Minden sergeant." Last of all, "he uttered
another name clearly, distinctly, and it was the name of Christ." "With
that name upon his lips," writes George Borrow, "the brave old soldier
sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands still clasped, yielded up
his soul." His death took place on February 28, 1824, and he was buried
in the churchyard of St. Giles, at Norwich.
The two brothers remained at home with their mother for some time after
their father's death. John fitted up a studio in the little house in
Willow Lane, and there devoted himself to his art. His work does not
seem to have been very remunerative, and eventually he went abroad in
connection with a mining venture, and died in Mexico in 1833. George had
a great opinion of his brother's painting, and believed that if he had
lived and continued to strive after excellence he would have left "some
enduring monument of his powers"; but his estimate of John's endowments
may have been biassed by his affection. His love for his brother was
deep and abiding, and was not lessened by his father's marked preference
for his elder son.
The precise date of Borrow's leaving Norwich and betaking himself to
London cannot be ascertained, but it is certain that he left his brother
behind him in the old home. Mr. Birrell believes it to have been not
later than 1828, and says "his only introduction appears to have been one
from William Taylor to Sir Richard Phillips, the publisher known to all
readers of "Lavengro." Mr. George Saintsbury sums up his life in Norwich
with the remark that "he occupied his time with things that obviously
would not pay."
A friend of the writer, who recently examined the old house in Willow
Lane, has contributed the following description of its appearance at the
time of his visit:
"In a quiet, secluded court, opening from a narrow lane in the old city
of Norwich, stands an unpretentious house, which at first sight presents
little to attract the attention of a visitor. A closer inspection,
however, discloses a marble slab affixed over the door, bearing the
following inscription: 'In this house resided for some years of the
earlier portion of his life, George Henry Borrow, author of "The Bible in
Spain"; and other valued works. Died in 1881, aged 78 years.' The old
house immediately becomes invested with great interest to one who has
spent many enraptured hours over the pages of the writer whose
association with Norwich has been thus commemorated by Sir Peter Eade.
"The house itself is of somewhat ancient date, and its external
appearance affords little indication of its size and the comfort of its
arrangement within. Its condition is practically unchanged since the
time when it was inhabited by the Borrow family. The present proprietor,
Mr. W. Cooper, with a commendable respect for the memory of the great
author, has made but few alterations. The principal change that has been
effected is in the division of the house into two separate parts. This
has been easily accomplished by the simple process of blocking up a door
in the hall, and forming another doorway in the front of the house. The
peculiar plan of the building adapts itself to this arrangement, no other
alteration being found necessary for the complete disconnection of the
two parts. Of the two cottages so formed, one is at present occupied by
an old couple, while the other is used as a workshop.
"On entering the front door, which has a picturesque, antique porchway,
access is gained to a fairly spacious hall, paved with tiles, from which
ascends the main staircase of fine old oak. The door that is now closed,
opened into a commodious front room, with a large window facing the west.
This contains some finely carved panelling in a good state of
preservation, and was evidently the chief room of the house. From it a
passage extends to the back buildings. A narrow and particularly
tortuous staircase leads from the front room to the upper rooms at the
back of the house, to which access cannot be gained by the main stairs.
On passing through the hall, the visitor finds himself in a large
kitchen, where provision is made for an exceptionally big fireplace. In
common with most old houses, every inch of available space is converted
into cupboards, which are to be discovered in most unexpected nooks and
corners. All the rooms are panelled, but it is only the large rooms just
mentioned that contain any carving.
"On the first floor, the arrangements are of a similar nature to those on
the ground floor. From the landing of the main staircase open two rooms,
a large one over the best room, and a smaller one above the hall. In the
first-mentioned is a noticeable fireplace, which, in the place of the
customary mantelpiece, has a panel-work frame, uniform with that
surrounding the other rooms. The place of the centre panel was formerly
occupied by a large oil painting, which remained in its position for some
time after the Borrows vacated the house, and is now in the possession of
Mr. Cooper. It represents 'The Judgment of Solomon,' and is supposed to
be the work of John Borrow, George's artist brother. The two remaining
bedrooms, which are reached by the small staircase, are of unequal size
on account of a narrow passage, from which rises a short flight of stairs
leading to a very irregular-shaped attic in the roof."