The Life of George Borrow

xterior shy and cold, under which lurk much curiosity, especially with regard to what is wild and extraor

he clerkship with Simpson & Rackham would expire at the end of March. Borrow had outlined his ambitions in a letter written on 20th January 1824, when he was ill and wretched, to Roger Kerrison, then in London: "If ever my health mends [this has reference to a very unpleasant complaint he had contracted], and possibly it may by the time my clerkship is expired, I intend to live in London, write plays, po

undles of p

and romantic, translated by himself, with

rd, also translated by himself, with notes

ance in the

ips, the publisher, to whose New Magazine he had already contributed a number of translations of poems. He had also printed in The Monthly Magaz

here arrived at 16 Milman Str

twenty tong

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song and ma

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ill forsake

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stairs, in which I was to sit, and another, still smaller, above it, in which I was to sleep." After the first feeling of loneliness had passed, dispelled largely by a bright fire an

his confidential clerk Bartlett (the Taggart of Lavengro). Sir Richard was at first enthusiastic and cordial, but when he learned from William Taylor's letter that Borrow had come up to earn his livelih

hat literature was a drug upon the market. With airy self-assertiveness, the ex-publisher dismissed the contents of the green box that Borrow h

exhortation to write a story in the style of The Dairyman's Daughter, and an invitation to dinner for the following Sunday, the first interview between George Borrow and Sir Richard Phillips ended, and Borrow left the great man's presence to begin his exploration of London, first leaving his manuscripts at Milman Street. During the rest of t

orrow heard of Sir Richard's amiable intentions towards him. He was to compile six volumes of the lives and trials of criminals [the Newgate Lives and Trials of Lavengro], each to contain not less than a thousand pages. [44a] For this work he was to receive the munificent sum of fifty pounds, which was to cover all expenses incurred in the purchase of books, papers and manuscr

nish him with the announcement that to him, George Borrow, understanding German in a manner that aroused the "strong admiration" of William Taylor, was to be entrusted the translating into that tongue of Sir Richard Phillips' book of Philosophy. [44b] If translations of Goethe into

end, at the same time intimating how seldom it was that he dealt so generously with a young writer. Borrow then rose from the table and passed o

purred him on to fresh effort. He received a copy of Proximate Causes, with an injunction that he should review it in The Universal Review, as well as translate

resources; but a harder thing to bear with patience and good-humour were the frequent visits he received from Sir Richard himself, who showed the

Henry the Fifth, to that of John Thurtell: and those connected with foreign as well as English jurisprudence. Mr Borrow, the editor, has availed himself of all the resources o

literary chamber of horrors were in his, Sir Richard's, opinion unquestionable. The English character of the compilation was soon sacrif

-room of a hotel. The two appear to have been excellent friends, perhaps because of the dissimilarity of their natures. "He was an Irishman," Borrow explains, "I an Engl

al for books and manuscripts to be thrown aside in favour either of some expedition or an hour or two's conversation. Borrow, however, soon tired of the ple

ned the reason for his being in London. He had been invited to paint the portrait of Robert Hawkes, an ex-mayor of Norwich, for a fee of a hundred guineas. Lacking confidence in his own ability, he had declined the honour and suggested that Benjamin Haydon should be approached. At the request of a deputation of his fellow citizens, which had waited upon him, he had underta

hard Phillips appears to have been a man as prolific of suggestion as he was destitute of tact. He regarded his authors as the instruments of his own genius. Their business it was to carry

his account, so that I have found it utterly impossible to live any longer in the same lodgings with him." [48a] Looked at dispassionately it seems nothing short of an act of cowardice on Kerrison's part to leave alone a man such as Borrow, who might at any moment be assailed by one of those periods of gloom from which suicide seemed the only outlet. On the other hand, from an anecdote told by C. G. Leland ("Hans Breitmann"), there seems to be some excuse for Kerrison's wish to

own what was the rate of pay to young and impecunious reviewers [49a] certainly not large, if it may be judged by the amount agreed upon for Celebrated Trials. St

than ever critical. [49b] The end could not be far off. Borrow had come to London determined to be an author, and by no juggling with facts could his present drudgery be considered as authorship. Occasionally his mind

western end of the town"; but he called many times without being successful in seeing him.

table difficulties; but a work of philosophy! The whole project was absurd. The diction of philosophy in all languages is individual, just as it is in other branches of science, and a very thorough knowledge of, and deep reading in both languages a

slation of Proximate Causes to some Germans, who found it utterly unintelligible. This was only to be expected, as Borrow confesses

r, [50a] relapsed into silence and finally left the house, ordered back to his compilation by Sir Richard, as soon

hands. It was desirable, therefore, that the remaining undertaking should be completed as soon as possible, that the two might part. The last of the manuscript was delivered, the proofs passed for press, and on 19th

re volume." Sir Richard was a philosopher as well as a preface-writing publisher, and it was only natural that he should speculate as to the effect upon his editor's mind of months spent in reading and editing such records of vice. "It may be expected,"

ed the theory that everything is a lie, and that nothing really exists except in our imaginations. The world was "a maze of doubt." These indications of an overtaxed brain increased, and eventually forced Borrow to leave London. His work was thoroughly uncongenial. He disliked reviewing; he had failed in his endeavour

here is a tremendous significance in the following passage. It tells of the transition of the actual vagabond int

art which the writers, whoever they were, possessed of telling a plain story. It is no easy thing to tell a story plainly and distinctly by mouth; but to tell one on paper is difficult indeed, so many snares lie in the way. People are afraid to put down what is common on paper, they seek to embellish their narratives, as they think, by philosophic speculations and reflections; they are anxious to shine, and people who are anxiou

e than a year after his arrival in London, Borrow published a translation of Klinger's Faustus. [53a] He himself gives no particulars as to whether it was commissioned or no. It may even have been "the Romance in the German style" from the Green Box. It is known that he received payment for it by a bill at five or six months, [53b] but there is no mention of

ought to have allowed his name to be put. The political allusion and metaphysics, which may have made it popular among a low class in Germany, do not sufficie

ssages, for in a note headed "The Translator to the Publi

such an expectation on the part of the reader. It is, therefore, necessary to state that, although scenes of vice and crime are here exhibited, it is merely in the hope that

. . and coarse" to anyone who for a moment allowed his mind to wander from the morality of "its general teachin

isk of introducing to the English public either Welsh or Danish ballads; and their translator became so shabby in consequence, that he refrained from calling upon his friend Arden, for whom he had always cherished a very

d that it was." This was obviously an error, for the bookseller is credited with saying, "I think I shall venture on sending your book to the press," [55a] referring to it as a "book" four times in nine lines. Again, in another place, Borrow describes how he rescued himself "from peculiarly miserable circumstances by writing a book, an original book, within a week, even as Johnson is said to have written his Rasselas and Beckford his Vathek." [55b] This removes all question of the Life and Adventures of Josep

ot hesitate to revise dates or colour events. The strongest evidence, however, lies in the atmosphere of truth that pervades Chapters LV.–LVII. of Lavengro. They are convincing. At one time or another dur

tationers' Hall can show no trace of that work, or any book that seems t

ice that he saw affixed to a bookseller's window to the effect that "A Novel or Tale is much wanted," that determined him to endeavour to emulate Dr Johnson and Willia

place in the catalogue of everyday wants. He was a proper man with his hands, and knew some score or more languages. No matter how he regarded the situation, the facts were obvious. Between him and actual starvation there was the inconsiderable sum of eighteen-pence and the bookseller's advertisement. The gravity of the situation banished the cloud of despo

verish energy of a man who sees the shadow of actual starvation cast across his manuscript. When the tale was finish

ed among gypsies for nothing. He, a starving and unknown author, succeeded in extracting from a bookseller twenty pounds for a st

ceivable that he should preserve this piece of paper when he had only eighteen-pence in the world. Everything seems to point to the fact that in May 1825 Borrow was not in want of money, and if he were not, why did he almost kill himself by writing the Life and Adventures of Joseph Sell? Again, at that period he had met with no adventures such as might be included in the life of a "Great

his error Dr Knapp makes Borrow leave London a day before the Fair took place that he describes. Borrow must have left London on the day following Greenwich Fair (24th May). If he l

is certain evidence that seems to support it. In the first place, Borrow was a chronicler before all else. He possessed an amazing memory and a great gift for turning his experiences into literary material. If he coloured facts, he appears to have done so unconsciously, to judge from those portions of The Bible in Spain that were covered by letters to the Bible Society. Not only are the facts the same, but, with very slight changes, the words in which he relates them. He never hesitated to change a date if it served his purpose, much as an artist will change the position of a tree in a landscape to suit the exigencies of composition. His five volumes of autobiograp