SEPTEMBER 1825–DECEMBER 1832
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,
11_th_ _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.