_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, 27_th_ _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,
Yours truly,
EDWARD FITZGERALD.
_P.S._—Donne is well, and wants to know about you.
A few months later FitzGerald wrote again:
ALBERT HOUSE, GORLESTON,
6_th_ _July_ 1857.
DEAR BORROW,—Will you send me [The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam] by
bearer. I only want to look at him, for that Frenchman {427} has
been misquoting him in a way that will make [Professor] E. Cowell [of
Cambridge] answerable for another’s blunder, which must not be. You
shall have ’_Omar_ back directly, or whenever you want him, and I
should really like to make you a copy (taking my time) of the best
Quatrains. I am now looking over the Calcutta MS. which has
500!—very many quite as good as those in the MS. you have; but very
many in _both_ MSS. are well omitted.
I have been for a fortnight to Geldeston where Kerrich is not very
well. I shall look for you one day in my Yarmouth rounds, and you
know how entirely disengaged and glad to see you I am here. I have
two fresh Nieces with me—and I find I gave you the _worst_ wine of
two samples Diver sent me. I wish you would send word by bearer you
are better—this one word written will be enough you see.
My old Parson Crabbe is bowing down under epileptic fits, or
something like, and I believe his brave old white head will soon sink
into the village Churchsward. Why, _our_ time seems coming. Make
way, Gentlemen!—Yours very truly,
EDWARD FITZGERALD.
What effect the sweet gentleness of FitzGerald’s nature had upon that of
Borrow is not known, for the replies have not been preserved. FitzGerald
was a man capable of soothing the angriest and most discontented mind,
and it is a misfortune that he saw so little of Borrow. In the early
part of the following year (24th Jan. 1857) FitzGerald wrote to Professor
E. B. Cowell of Cambridge:—
“I was with Borrow a week ago at Donne’s, and also at Yarmouth three
months ago: he is well, but not yet agreed with Murray. He read me a
long Translation he had made from the Turkish: which I could not
admire, and his Taste becomes stranger than ever.” {428a}
From Wales Mrs George Borrow had written (Sept. 1854) to old Mrs Borrow:
“He [Borrow] will, I expect at Christmas, publish his other work [_The
Romany Rye_] together with his poetry in all the European languages.”
{428b} In November (1854) the manuscript of _The Romany Rye_ was
delivered to John Murray, who appears to have taken his time in reading
it; for it was not until 23rd December that he expressed his views in the
following letter. Even when the letter was written it was allowed to
remain in John Murray’s desk for five weeks, not being sent until 27th
January:—
MY DEAR BORROW,—I have read with care the MS. of _The Romany Rye_ and
have pondered anxiously over it; and in what I am about to write I
think I may fairly claim the privilege of a friend deeply interested
in you personally, as well as in your reputation as author, and by no
means insensible to the abilities displayed in your various works.
It is my firm conviction then, that you will incur the certainty of
failure and run the risque of injuring your literary fame by
publishing the MS. as it stands. Very large omissions seem to me—and
in this, Elwin, {429} no mean judge, concurs—absolutely
indispensable. That _Lavengro_ would have profited by curtailment, I
stated before its publication. The result has verified my
anticipations, and in the present instance I feel compelled to make
it the condition of publication. You can well imagine that it is not
my _interest_ to shorten a book from two volumes to one unless there
were really good cause.
_Lavengro_ clearly has not been successful. Let us not then risque
the chance of another failure, but try to avoid the rock upon which
we then split. You have so great store of interesting matter in your
mind and in your notes, that I cannot but feel it to be a pity that
you should harp always upon one string, as it were. It seems to me
that you have dwelt too long on English ground in this new work, and
have resuscitated some characters of the former book (such as F.
Ardry) whom your readers would have been better pleased to have left
behind. Why should you not introduce us rather to those novel scenes
of Moscovite and Hungarian life respecting which I have heard you
drop so many stimulating allusions. Do not, I pray, take offence at
what I have written. It is difficult and even painful for me to
assume the office of critic, and this is one of the reasons why this
note has lingered so long in my desk. Fortunately, in the advice I
am tendering I am supported by others of better literary judgment
than myself, and who have also deep regard for you. I will specify
below some of the passages which I would point out for omission.—With
best remembrances, I remain, my dear Borrow, Your faithful publisher
and sincere friend,
JOHN MURRAY.
_Suggestions for Omission_.
The Hungarian in No. 6.
The Jockey Story, terribly spun out, No. 7.
Visit to the Church, too long.
Interview with the Irishman, Do.
Learning Chinese, too much repetition in this part of a very
interesting chapter.
The Postilion and Highwayman.
Throughout the MS. condensation is indispensable. Many of the
narratives are carried to a tedious length by details and repetition.
The dialogue with Ursula, the song, etc., border on the indelicate.
I like much Horncastle Fair, the Chinese scholar, except objection
noted above.
Grooming of the horse.
January 27, 1855.
On 29th January, Mrs Borrow wrote to John Murray a letter that was
inspired by Borrow himself. Dr Knapp discovered the original draft, some
of which was in Borrow’s own hand. It runs:—
DEAR MR MURRAY,—We have received your letters. In the first place I
beg leave to say something on a very principal point. You talk about
_conditions_ of publishing. Mr Borrow has not the slightest wish to
publish the book. The MS. was left with you because you wished to
see it, and when left, you were particularly requested not to let it
pass out of your own hands. But it seems you have shown it to
various individuals whose opinions you repeat. What those opinions
are worth may be gathered from the following fact.
The book is one of the most learned works ever written; yet in the
summary of the opinions which you give, not one single allusion is
made to the learning which pervades the book, no more than if it
contained none at all. It is treated just as if all the philological
and historical facts were mere inventions, and the book a common
novel . . .
With regard to _Lavengro_ it is necessary to observe that if ever a
book experienced infamous and undeserved treatment it was that book.
It was attacked in every form that envy and malice could suggest, on
account of Mr Borrow’s acquirements and the success of _The Bible in
Spain_, and it was deserted by those whose duty it was, in some
degree to have protected it. No attempt was ever made to refute the
vile calumny that it was a book got up against the Popish agitation
of ’51. It was written years previous to that period—a fact of which
none is better aware than the Publisher. Is that calumny to be still
permitted to go unanswered?
If these suggestions are attended to, well and good; if not, Mr
Borrow can bide his time. He is independent of the public and of
everybody. Say no more on that Russian Subject. Mr Borrow has had
quite enough of the press. If he wrote a book on Russia, it would be
said to be like _The Bible in Spain_, or it would be said to be
unlike _The Bible in Spain_, and would be blamed in either case. He
has written a book in connection with England such as no other body
could have written, and he now rests from his labours. He has found
England an ungrateful country. It owes much to him, and he owes
nothing to it. If he had been a low ignorant impostor, like a person
he could name, he would have been employed and honoured.—I remain,
Yours sincerely,
MARY BORROW.
On 5th April 1856 Mrs Borrow wrote again, requesting Murray to return the
manuscript, but for what purpose she does not state. Two days later it
was despatched by rail from Albemarle Street.
Some years before, Borrow had met Rev. Whitwell Elwin, Rector of Booton,
somewhere about the time he (Elwin) came up to London to edit _The
Quarterly Review_, viz., 1853. {431} The first interview between the two
men has been described as characteristic of both.
“Borrow was just then very sore with his slashing critics, and on
someone mentioning that Elwin was a ‘_Quartering_ reviewer,’ he said,
‘Sir, I wish you a better employment.’ Then hastily changing the
subject, he called out, ‘What party are you in the Church—Tractarian,
Moderate, or Evangelical? I am happy to say, _I_ am the old _High_.’
‘I am happy to say I am _not_,’ was Elwin’s emphatic reply. Borrow
boasted of his proficiency in the Norfolk dialect, which he
endeavoured to speak as broadly as possible. ‘I told him,’ said
Elwin, ‘that he had not cultivated it with his usual success.’ As
the conversation proceeded it became less disputatious, and the two
ended by becoming so cordial that they promised to visit each other.
Borrow fulfilled his promise in the following October, when he went
to Booton, and was ‘full of anecdote and reminiscence,’ and delighted
the rectory children by singing them songs in the gypsy tongue.
Elwin during this visit urged him to try his hand at an article for
the Review. ‘Never,’ he said, ‘I have made a resolution never to
have anything to do with such a blackguard trade.’” {432a}
Elwin became greatly interested in _The Romany Rye_. He endeavoured to
influence its composition, and even wrote to Borrow begging him “to give
his sequel to _Lavengro_ more of an historical, and less of a romancing
air.” He was not happy about the book. He wrote to John Murray in
March:—
“‘It is not the statements themselves which provoke incredulity, but
the melodramatic effect which he tries to impart to all his
adventures.’ Instead of ‘roaring like a lion,’ in reply, as Elwin
had expected, he returned quite a ‘lamb-like’ note, which gave
promise of a greater success for his new work than its precursor.”
{432b}
Borrow appears to have become tired of biding his time with regard to
_The Romany Rye_, and on 27th Feb. 1857 he wrote to John Murray to say
that “the work must go to press, and that unless the printing is
forthwith commenced, I must come up to London and make arrangements
myself. Time is passing away. It ought to have appeared many years ago.
I can submit to no more delays.” The work was accordingly proceeded
with, and Elwin wrote a criticism of the work for _The Quarterly Review_
from the proof-sheets:—
“When the review was almost finished, it was on the point of being
altogether withdrawn, owing to a passage in _Romany Rye_ which Elwin
said was clearly meant to be a reflection on his friend Ford, ‘to
avenge the presumed refusal of the latter to praise _Lavengro_ in
_The Quarterly Review_.’ ‘I am very anxious,’ he said, ‘to get
Borrow justice for rare merits which have been entirely overlooked,
but if he persists in publishing an attack of this kind I shall, I
fear, not be able to serve him.’ The objectionable paragraphs had
been written by Borrow under a misapprehension, and he cancelled them
as soon as he was convinced of his error.” {433}
John Murray determined not to publish the book unless the offending
passage were removed. He wrote to Borrow the following letter:—
8_th_ _April_ 1857.
MY DEAR BORROW,—When I have done anything towards you deserving of
apology I will not hesitate to offer one. As it is, I have acted
loyally towards you, and with a view to maintain your interests.
I agreed to publish your present work solely with the object of
obliging you, and in a great degree at the strong recommendation of
Cooke. I meant (as was my duty) to do my very best to promote its
success. You on your side promised to listen to me in regard to any
necessary omissions; and on the faith of this, I pointed out one
omission, which I make the indispensable condition of my proceeding
further with the book. I have asked nothing unfair nor
unreasonable—nay, a compliance with the request is essential for your
own character as an author and a man.
You are the last man that I should ever expect to “frighten or
bully”; and if a mild but firm remonstrance against an offensive
passage in your book is interpreted by you into such an application,
I submit that the grounds for the notion must exist nowhere but in
your own imagination. The alternative offered to you is to omit or
publish elsewhere. Nothing shall compel me to publish what you have
written. Think calmly and dispassionately over this, and when you
have decided let me know.
Yours very faithfully,
JOHN MURRAY.
The reference that had so offended Murray and Elwin had, in all
probability been interpolated in proof form, otherwise it would have been
discovered either when Murray read the manuscript or Elwin the proofs.
By return of post came the following reply from Borrow, then at Great
Yarmouth:—
DEAR SIR,—Yesterday I received your letter. You had better ask your
cousin [Robert Cooke] to come down and talk about matters. _After_
Monday I shall be disengaged and shall be most happy to see him. And
now I must tell you that you are exceedingly injudicious. You call a
chapter heavy, and I, not wishing to appear unaccommodating, remove
or alter two or three passages for which I do not particularly care,
whereupon you make most unnecessary comments, obtruding your private
judgment upon matters with which you have no business, and of which
it is impossible that you should have a competent knowledge. If you
disliked the passages you might have said so, but you had no right to
say anything more. I believe that you not only meant no harm, but
that your intentions were good; unfortunately, however, people with
the best of intentions occasionally do a great deal of harm. In your
language you are frequently in the highest degree injudicious; for
example, in your last letter you talk of obliging me by publishing my
work. Now is not that speaking very injudiciously? Surely you
forget that I could return a most cutting answer were I disposed to
do so.
I believe, however, that your intentions are good, and that you are
disposed to be friendly.—Yours truly,
GEORGE BORROW.
The tone of this letter is strangely reminiscent of some of the Rev
Andrew Brandram’s admonitions to Borrow himself, during his association
with the Bible Society. Borrow bowed to the wind, and the offending
passage was deleted, and _The Romany Rye_ eventually appeared on 30th
April 1857, in an edition of a thousand copies. The public, or such part
of it as had not forgotten Borrow, had been kept waiting six years to
know what had happened on the morning after the storm. _Lavengro_ had
ended by the postilion concluding his story with “Young gentleman, I will
now take a spell on your blanket—young lady, good-night,” and presumably
the three, Borrow, Isopel Berners and their guest had lain down to sleep,
and a great quiet fell upon the dingle, and the moon and the stars shone
down upon it, and the red glow from the charcoal in the brazier paled and
died away.
_The Romany Rye_ is a puzzling book. The latter portion, at least, seems
to suggest “spiritual autobiography.” It reveals the man, his
atmosphere, his character, and nowhere better than among the jockeys at
Horncastle. It gives a better and more convincing picture of Borrow than
the most accurate list of dates and occurrences, all vouched for upon
unimpeachable authority. It is impressionism applied to autobiography,
which has always been considered as essentially a subject for
photographic treatment. Borrow thought otherwise, with the result that
many people decline to believe that his picture is a portrait, because
there is a question as to the dates.
Among the reviews, which were on the whole unfriendly, was the remarkable
notice in _The Quarterly Review_, by the Rev. Whitwell Elwin:—{435}
“Nobody,” he wrote, “sympathises with wounded vanity, and the world
only laughs when a man angrily informs it that it does not rate him
at his true value. The public to whom he appeals must, after all, be
the judge of his pretensions. Their verdict at first is frequently
wrong, but it is they themselves who must reverse it, and not the
author who is upon his trial before them. The attacks of critics, if
they are unjust, invariably yield to the same remedy. Though we do
not think that Mr Borrow is a good counsel in his own cause, we are
yet strongly of the opinion that Time in this case has some wrongs to
repair, and that _Lavengro_ has _not_ obtained the fame which was its
due. It contains passages which in their way are not surpassed by
anything in English Literature.”
The value of these prophetic words lies in the fine spirit of fatherly
reproof in which the whole review was written. It is the work of a
critic who regarded literature as a thing to be approached, both by
author and reviewer, with grave and deliberate ceremony, not with
enthusiasm or prejudice. From any other source the following words would
not have possessed the significance they did, coming from a man of such
sane ideas with the courage to express them:—
“Various portions of the history are known to be a faithful narrative
of Mr Borrow’s career, while we ourselves can testify, as to many
other parts of his volumes, that nothing can excel the fidelity with
which he has described both men and things. Far from his showing any
tendency to exaggeration, such of his characters as we chance to have
known, and they are not a few, are rather within the truth than
beyond it. However picturesquely they may be drawn, the lines are
invariably those of nature. Why under these circumstances he should
envelop the question in mystery is more than we can divine. There
can be no doubt that the larger part, and possibly the whole, of the
work is a narrative of actual occurrences.” {436}
The Appendix itself, which had drawn from Elwin the grave declaration
that “Mr Borrow is very angry with his critics,” is a fine piece of
rhetorical denunciation. It opens with the deliberate restraint of a man
who feels the fury of his wrath surging up within him. It tells again
the story of _Lavengro_, pointing morals as it goes. Then the studied
calm is lost—Priestcraft, “Foreign Nonsense,” “Gentility Nonsense,”
“Canting Nonsense,” “Pseudo-Critics,” “Pseudo-Radicals” he flogs and
pillories mercilessly until, arriving at “The Old Radical,” he throws off
all restraint and lunges out wildly, mad with hate and despair. As a
piece of literary folly, the Appendix to _The Romany Rye_ has probably
never been surpassed. It alienated from Borrow all but his personal
friends, and it sealed his literary fate as far as his own generation was
concerned. In short, he had burnt his boats.
Borrow had sent a copy of _The Romany Rye_ to FitzGerald, which is
referred to by him in a letter written from Gorleston to Professor Cowell
(5th June 1857):—
“Within hail almost lives George Borrow who has lately published, and
given me, two new Volumes of Lavengro called _Romany Rye_, with some
excellent things, and some very bad (as I have made bold to write to
him—how shall I face him!). You would not like the Book at all, I
think.” {437a}
Borrow was bitterly disappointed at the effect produced by _The Romany
Rye_. On someone once saying that it was the finest piece of literary
invective since Swift, he replied, “Yes, I meant it to be; and what do
you think the effect was? No one took the least notice of it!” {437b}
_The Romany Rye_ was not a success. The thousand copies lasted a year.
When it appeared likely that a second edition would be required, Borrow
wrote to John Murray urging him not to send the book to the press again
until he “was quite sure the demand for it will at least defray all
attendant expenses.” He saw that whatever profits had resulted from the
publication of the first edition, were in danger of being swallowed up in
the preparation of a second. When this did eventually make its
appearance in 1858, it was limited to 750 copies, which lasted until
1872.
Borrow’s own attitude with regard to the work and his wisdom in
publishing it is summed up in a letter to John Murray (17th Sept. 1857):—
“I was very anxious to bring it out,” he writes; “and I bless God
that I had the courage and perseverance to do so. It is of course
unpalatable to many; for it scorns to foster delusion, to cry ‘peace
where there is no peace,’ and denounces boldly the evils which are
hurrying the country to destruction, and which have kindled God’s
anger against it, namely, the pride, insolence, cruelty,
covetousness, and hypocrisy of its people, and above all the rage for
gentility, which must be indulged in at the expense of every good and
honourable feeling.”
The writing of the Appendix had aroused in Borrow all his old enthusiasm,
and he appears to have come to the determination to publish a number of
works, including a veritable library of translations. At the end of _The
Romany Rye_ appeared a lengthy list of books in preparation. {438}
In August 1857 Borrow paid a second visit to Wales, walking “upwards of
four hundred miles.” Starting from Laugharne in Carmarthenshire, he
visited Tenby, Pembroke, Milford Haven, Haverford, St David’s, Fishguard,
Newport, Cardigan, Lampeter; passing into Brecknockshire, he eventually
reached Mortimer’s Cross in Hereford and thence to Shrewsbury. In
October he was at Leighton, Donnington and Uppington, where he found
traces of Gronwy Owen, the one-time curate and all-time poet.
Throughout his life Borrow had shown by every action and word written
about her, the great love he bore his mother. When his wife wrote to her
and he was too restless to do so himself, he would interpolate two or
three lines to “My dear Mamma.” She was always in his thoughts, and he
never wavered in his love for her and devotion to her comfort; whilst she
looked upon him as only a mother so good and so tender could look upon a
son who had become her “only hope.”
For many years of her life it had been ordained that this brave old lady
should live alone. {439} In the middle of August 1858 the news reached
Borrow that his mother had been taken suddenly ill. She was in her
eighty-seventh year, and at such an age all illnesses are dangerous.
Borrow hastened to Oulton, and arrived just in time to be with her at the
last.
Thus on 16th August 1858, of “pulmonary congestion,” died Anne Borrow,
who had followed her husband about with his regiment, and had reared and
educated her two boys under circumstances of great disadvantage. She had
lost one; but the other, her youngest born, whom she had so often
shielded from his father’s reproaches, had been spared to her, and she
had seen him famous. Upon her grave in Oulton Churchyard the son caused
to be inscribed the words, “She was a good wife and a good mother,” than
which no woman can ask more. {440a}
The death of his mother was a great shock to Borrow. “He felt the blow
keenly,” Mrs Borrow wrote to John Murray, “and I advised a tour in
Scotland to recruit his health and spirits.” Accordingly he went North
early in October, leaving his wife and Henrietta at Great Yarmouth. He
visited the Highlands, walking several hundred miles. Mull struck him as
“a very wild country, perhaps the wildest in Europe.” Many of its
place-names reminded him strongly of the Isle of Man. At the end of
November he finished up the tour at Lerwick in Shetland, where he bought
presents for his “loved ones,” having seen Greenock, Glasgow, Perth,
Aberdeen, Inverness, Wick, Thurso among other places. His impressions
were not altogether favourable to the Scotch. “A queerer country I never
saw in all my life,” he wrote later . . . “a queerer set of people than
the Scotch you would scarcely see in a summer’s day.” {440b}
In the following year (1859) an excursion was made to Ireland by Borrow
and his family. Making Dublin his headquarters, where he left his wife
and Henrietta comfortably settled, he tramped to Connemara and the
Giant’s Causeway, the expedition being full of adventure and affording
him “much pleasure,” in spite of the fact that he was “frequently wet to
the skin, and indifferently lodged.”
Borrow had inherited from his mother some property at Mattishall Burgh,
one and a half miles from his birth-place, consisting of some land, a
thatched house and outbuildings, now demolished. This was let to a
small-holder named Henry Hill. Borrow thought very highly of his tenant,
and for hours together would tramp up and down beside him as he ploughed
the land, asking questions, and hearing always something new from the
amazing stores of nature knowledge that Henry Hill had acquired. This
Norfolk worthy appears to have been possessed of a genius for many
things. He was well versed in herbal lore, a self-taught ’cellist,
playing each Sunday in the Congregational Chapel at Mattishall, and an
equally self-taught watch-repairer; but his chief claim to fame was as a
bee-keeper, local tradition crediting him with being the first man to
keep bees under glass. He would solemnly state that his bees, whom he
looked upon as friends, talked to him. On Sundays the country folk for
miles round would walk over to Mattishall Burgh to see old Henry Hill’s
bees, and hear him expound their lore. It was perforce Sunday, there was
no other day for the Norfolk farm-labourer of that generation, who seemed
always to live on the verge of starvation. Borrow himself expressed
regret to Henry Hill that it had not been possible to add the education
of the academy to that of the land. He saw that the combination would
have produced an even more remarkable man.
In Norfolk all strangers are regarded with suspicion. Lifelong
friendships are not contracted in a day. The East Anglian is shrewd, and
requires to know something about those whom he admits to the sacred inner
circle of his friendship. Borrow was well-known in the Mattishall
district, and was looked upon with more than usual suspicion. He was
unquestionably a strange man, in speech, in appearance, in habits. He
could and would knock down any who offended him; but, worst of all, he
was the intimate of gypsies, sat by their fires, spoke in their tongue.
The population round about was entirely an agricultural one, and all
united in hating the gypsies as their greatest enemies, because of their
depredations. Add to this the fact that Borrow was a frequenter of
public-houses, of which there were _seven_ in the village, and was wont
to boast that you could get at the true man only after he had been
mellowed into speech by good English ale. Then he would open his heart
and unburden his mind of all the accumulated knowledge that he possessed,
and add something to the epic of the soil. Borrow’s overbearing manner
made people shy of him. On one occasion he told John, the son and
successor of Henry Hill, that he ought to be responsible for the debt of
his half-brother; the debt, it may be mentioned, was to Borrow.
There is no better illustration of the suspicion with which Borrow was
regarded locally, than an incident that occurred during one of his visits
to Mattishall. He called upon John Hill at Church Farm to collect his
rent. The evening was spent very agreeably. Borrow recited some of his
ballads, quoted Scripture and languages, and sang a song. He was
particularly interested on account of Mrs Hill being from London, where
she knew many of his haunts. He remained the whole evening with the
family and partook of their meal; but was allowed to go to one of the
seven public-houses for a bed, although there were spare bedrooms in the
house that he might have occupied. Such was the suspicion that Borrow’s
habits created in the minds of his fellow East Anglians. {442}