  In March 1844 Borrow, unable longer to control the Wanderlust within him, gave up the struggle, and determined to make a journey to the East. He was in London on the 20th, as Lady Eastlake (then Miss Elizabeth Rigby) testifies in her Journal. “Borrow came in the evening,” she writes: “now a fine man, but a most disagreeable one; a kind of character that would be most dangerous in rebellious times—one that would suffer or persecute to the utmost. His face is expressive of wrong-headed determination.” He left London towards the end of April for Paris, from which he wrote to John Murray, 1st May:—
From Paris he proceeded to Vienna, and thence into Hungary and Transylvania, where he remained for some months. He is known to have been “in the steppe of Debreczin,” So little is known of Borrow’s Eastern Journey that the following account, given by an American, has a peculiar interest:—
This was the fame most congenial to Borrow’s strange nature. Dinners, receptions, and the like caused him to despise those who found pleasure in such “crazy admiration for what they called gentility.” It was his foible, as much as “gentility nonsense” was theirs, to find pleasure in the rÔle of the mysterious stranger, who by a word could change a disdainful gypsy into a fawning, awe-stricken slave. Fame to satisfy George Borrow must carry with it something of the greatness of Olympus. A glimpse of Borrow during his Eastern tour is obtained from Mrs Borrow’s letters to John Murray. After telling him that she possesses a privilege which many wives do not (viz.), permission to open her Husband’s letters during his absence, she proceeds:—
At Vienna Borrow had arranged to wait until he should receive a letter from his wife, “being very anxious to know of his family,” as Mrs Borrow informed John Murray (24th July).
Borrow was at Constantinople on 17th Sept. when he drew on his letter of credit. Leland tells an anecdote about Borrow at Constantinople; but it must be remembered that it was written when he regarded Borrow with anything but friendly feelings:—
The story is obviously untrue. Had Borrow been ignorant of Arabic he would not have risked writing to Dr Bowring (11th Sept. 1831; see ante, page 85) expressing his enthusiasm for that language. Arabic had, apparently, formed one of the subjects of his preliminary examination at Earl Street. With regard to Modern Greek he confessed in a letter to Mr Brandram (12th June 1839), “though I speak it very ill, I can make myself understood.” Having obtained a Turkish passport, and after being presented to AbdÛl MedjÎd, the Sultan, Borrow proceeded to Salonika and, crossing Thessaly to Albania, visited Janina and Prevesa. He passed over to CorfÙ, and saw Venice and Rome, returning to England by way of Marseilles, Paris and Havre. He arrived in London on 16th November, after nearly seven months’ absence, to find his “home particularly dear to me . . . after my long wanderings.” It is curious that he should have left no record of this expedition; but if he made notes he evidently destroyed them, as, with the exception of a few letters, nothing was found among his papers relating to the Eastern tour. There is evidence that he was occupied with his pen during this journey, in the existence at the British Museum of his Vocabulary of the Gypsy Language as spoken in Hungary and Transylvania, compiled during an intercourse of some months with the Gypsies in those parts in the year 1844, by George Borrow. In all probability he prepared his Bohemian Grammar at the same time. From the time that he became acquainted with Borrow, Richard Ford had constituted himself the genius of La Mezquita (the Mosque), as he states the little octagonal Summer-house was called. He was for ever urging in impulsive, polyglot letters that the curtain to be lifted. “Publish your whole adventures for the last twenty years,” he had written. As early as the summer of 1841 Borrow appears to have contemplated writing his Autobiography. On the eve of the appearance of The Bible in Spain (17th Dec.) he wrote to John Murray: “I hope our book will be successful; if so, I shall put another on the stocks. Capital subject: early life; studies and adventures; some account of my father, William Taylor, Whiter, Big Ben, etc. etc.” The first draft of notes for Lavengro, an Autobiography, as the book was originally advertised in the announcement, is extremely interesting. It runs:—
Lavengro was planned in 1842 and the greater part written before the end of the following year, although the work was not actually completed until 1846. There are numerous references in Borrow’s letters of this period to the book on which he was then engaged, and he invariably refers to it as his Life. On 21st January 1843 he writes to John Murray, Junr.: “I meditate shortly a return to Barbary in quest of the Witch Hamlet, and my adventures in the land of wonders will serve capitally to fill the thin volume of My Life, a Drama, By G. B.” Again and again Borrow refers to My Life. Hasfeldt and Ford also wrote of it as the “wonderful life” and “the Biography.” In his letters to John Murray, Borrow not only refers to the book as his Life, but from time to time gives crumbs of information concerning its progress. The Secretary of the Bible Society has just lent him his letters from Russia, “which will be of great assistance in the Life, as I shall work them up as I did those relating to Spain. The first volume,” he continues, “will be devoted to England entirely, and my pursuits and adventures in early life.” He recognises that he must be careful of the reputation that he has earned. His new book is to be original, as would be seen when it at last appears; but he confesses that occasionally he feels “tremendously lazy.” On another occasion (27th March 1843) he writes to John Murray, Junr.: “I hope by the end of next year that I shall have part of my life ready for the press in 3 vols.” Six months later (2nd Oct. 1843) he writes to John Murray:—
In a letter to John Murray (25th Oct. 8843), the title is referred to as Lavengro: A Biography. It is to be “full of grave fun and solemn laughter like the Bible.” On 6th December he again writes:—
Time after time he insists upon his determination to publish nothing that is not “as good as the last.” “I shall go on with my Life,” he writes, to Ford (9th Feb. 1844), “but slowly and lazily. What I write, however, is good. I feel it is good, strange and wild as it is.” From 24th–27th Jan. 1844 that “most astonishing fellow” Richard Ford visited Borrow at Oulton, urging again in person, most likely, the lifting of the veil that obscured those seven mysterious years. Ford has himself described this visit to Borrow in a letter written from Oulton Hall.
By this last sentence Ford showed how thoroughly he understood Borrow’s literary methods. A fortnight later Borrow writes to Ford:—
The Eastern Tour considerably interfered with the writing of Lavengro. There was a seven months’ break; but Borrow settled down to work on it again, still determined to take his time and produce a book that should be better than The Bible in Spain. Ford’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Spain and Readers at Home appeared in 1845, a work that had cost its author upwards of sixteen years of labour. In a letter to Borrow he characterised it as “a rum book and has queer stuff in it, although much expurgated for the sake of Spain.” Ford was very anxious that Borrow should keep the promise that he had given two years previously to review the Hand-Book when it appeared. “You will do it magnificently. ‘Thou art the man,’” Ford had written with the greatest enthusiasm. On 2nd June an article of thirty-seven folio pages was despatched by Borrow to John Murray for The Quarterly Review, with the following from Mrs Borrow:—
Ford saw in Borrow “a crack reviewer.” “ . . . You have,” he assured him in 1843, “only to write a long letter, having read the book carefully and thought over the subject.” Ford also wrote to Borrow (26th Oct. 1843): “I have written several letters to Murray recommending them to bag you forthwith, unless they are demented.” There was no doubt in his, Ford’s, mind as to the acceptance of Borrow’s article.
The article turned out to be, not a review of the Hand-Book, but a bitter attack on Spain and her rulers. The second part was to some extent germane to the subject, but it appears to have been more concerned with Borrow’s view of Spain and things Spanish than with Ford’s book. Lockhart saw that it would not do. In a letter to John Murray he explains very clearly and very justly the objections to using the article as it stood.
Lockhart was right and Borrow was wrong. There is no room for equivocation. Borrow should have sunk his pride in favour of his friendship for Ford, who had, even if occasionally a little tedious in his epistolary enthusiasm, always been a loyal friend; but Borrow was ill and excuses must be made for him. Lockhart wrote also to Ford describing Borrow’s paper as “just another capital chapter of his Bible in Spain,” which he had read with delight, but there was “hardly a word of review, and no extract giving the least notion of the peculiar merits and style especially, of the Hand-Book.” “He is unwell,” continued Lockhart, “I should be very sorry to bother him more at present; and, moreover, from the little he has said of your style, I am forced to infer that a review of your book by him would never be what I could feel authorised to publish in the Q. R.” The letter concludes with a word of condolence that the Hand-Book will have to be committed to other hands. Ford realised the difficulty of the situation in which he was placed, and strove to wriggle out of it by telling Borrow that his wife had said all along that
It is evident that Ford was genuinely distressed, and in his anxiety to be loyal to his friend rather overdid it. His letter has an air of patronage that the writer certainly never intended. The outstanding feature is its absolute selflessness. Ford never seems to think of himself, or that Borrow might have made a concession to their friendship. Happy Ford! The unfortunate episode estranged Borrow from Ford. Letters between them became less and less frequent and finally ceased altogether, although Borrow did not forget to send to his old friend a copy of Lavengro when it appeared. Worries seemed to rain down upon Borrow’s head about this time. Samuel Morton Peto (afterwards Sir Samuel) had decided to enrich Lowestoft by improving the harbour and building a railway to Reedham, about half-way between Yarmouth and Norwich. He was authorised by Parliament and duly constructed his line, which not even Borrow’s anger could prevent from passing through the Oulton Estate, between the Hall and the Cottage. Borrow could not fight an Act of Parliament, which forced him to cross a railway bridge on his way to church; but he never forgave the man who had contrived it, or his millions. His first thought had been to fly before the invader. All quiet would be gone from the place. “Sell and be off,” advised Ford; “I hope you will make the railway pay dear for its whistle,” quietly observed John Murray. At first Borrow was inclined to take Ford’s advice and settle abroad; but subsequently relinquished the idea. He was not, however, the man quietly to sit down before what he conceived to be an unjustifiable outrage to his right to be quiet. He never forgave railways, although forced sometimes to make use of them. Samuel Morton Peto became to him the embodiment of evil, and as “Mr Flamson flaming in his coach with a million” he is immortalised in The Romany Rye. It is said that Sir Samuel boasted that he had made more than the price he had paid for Borrow’s land out of the gravel he had taken from off it. On one occasion, after he had bought Somerleyton Hall, happening to meet Borrow, he remarked that he never called upon him, and Borrow remembering the boast replied, “I call on you! Do you think I don’t read my Shakespeare? Do you think I don’t know all about those highwaymen Bardolph and Peto?” The neighbourhood of Oulton appears to have been infested with thieves, and poachers found admirable “cover” in the surrounding plantations, or small woods. On several occasions Borrow himself had been attacked at night on the highway between Lowestoft and Oulton. Once he had even been shot at and nearly overpowered. John Murray (the Second) on hearing of one of these assaults had written (1841) artfully enquiring, “Were your wood thieves Gypsies, and have the CalÉs got notice of your publication [The Zincali]?” Borrow had written to John Murray, Junr. (10th May 1842):—
Gladstone is said greatly to have admired The Bible in Spain, even to the extent of writing to John Murray counselling him to have amended a passage that he considered ill-advised. Gladstone’s letter was sent on to Borrow, and he acknowledges its receipt (6th November 1843) in the following terms:—
The offending passage was that in which Borrow says, when describing the interior of the Mosque at Tangier: “I looked around for the abominable thing, and found it not; no scarlet strumpet with a crown of false gold sat nursing an ugly changeling in a niche.” In later editions the words “no scarlet strumpet,” etc., were changed to “the besetting sin of the pseudo-Christian Church did not stare me in the face in every corner.” The amendment was little likely to please a Churchman of Gladstone’s calibre, or procure for the writer the magistracy he coveted, even if it had been made less grudgingly. “We must not make any further alterations here,” Borrow wrote to Murray a few days later, “otherwise the whole soliloquy, which is full of vigor and poetry, and moreover of truth, would be entirely spoiled. As it is, I cannot help feeling that [it] is considerably damaged.” There seems very little doubt that this passage was referred to in the letter that John Murray encloses in his of 10th July 1843
Borrow appears to have set his mind on becoming a magistrate. He had written to Lockhart (November 1843) enquiring how he had best proceed to obtain such an appointment. Lockhart was not able to give him any very definite information, his knowledge of such things, as he confessed, “being Scotch.” For the time being the matter was allowed to drop, to be revived in 1847 by a direct application from Borrow to Lord Clarendon to support his application with the Lord Chancellor. His claims were based upon (1) his being a large landed-proprietor in the district (Mrs Borrow had become the owner of the Oulton Hall Estate during the previous year); (2) the fact that the neighbourhood was over-run with thieves and undesirable characters; (3) that there was no magistrate residing in the district. Lord Clarendon promised his good offices, but suggested that as all such appointments were made through the Lord-Lieutenant of the County, the Earl of Stradbroke had better be acquainted with what was taking place. This was done through the Hon. Wm. Rufus Rous, Lord Stradbroke’s brother, whose interest was obtained by some of Borrow’s friends. After a delay of two months, Lord Stradbroke wrote to Lord Clarendon that he was quite satisfied with “the number and efficiency of the Magistrates” and also with the way in which the Petty Sessions were attended. He could hear of no complaint, and when the time came to increase the number of J.P.’s, he would be pleased to add Borrow’s name to the list, provided he were advised to do so by “those gentlemen residing in the neighbourhood, who, living on terms of intimacy with them [the Magistrates], will be able to maintain that union of good feeling which . . . exists in all our benches of Petty Sessions.” Borrow would have made a good magistrate, provided the offender were not a gypsy. He would have caused the wrong-doer more fear the instrument of the law rather than the law itself, and some of his sentences might possibly have been as summary as those of Judge Lynch.
It is not strange that Borrow’s application failed; for he never refused leave to the gypsies to camp upon his land, and would sometimes join them beside their campfires. Once he took a guest with him after dinner to where the gypsies were encamped. They received Borrow with every mark of respect. Presently he “began to intone to them a song, written by him in Romany, which recounted all their tricks and evil deeds. The gypsies soon became excited; then they began to kick their property about, such as barrels and tin cans; then the men began to fight and the women to part them; an uproar of shouts and recriminations set in, and the quarrel became so serious that it was thought prudent to quit the scene.” These disappointments tended to embitter Borrow, who saw in them only a conspiracy against him. There is little doubt that Lord Stradbroke’s enquiries had revealed some curious gossip concerning the Master of Oulton Hall, possibly the dispute with his rector over the inability of their respective dogs to live in harmony; perhaps even the would-be magistrate’s predilection for the society of gypsies, and his profound admiration for “the Fancy” had reached the Lord-Lieutenant’s ears. The unfortunate and somewhat mysterious dispute with Dr Bowring was another anxiety that Borrow had to face. He had once remarked, “It’s very odd, Bowring, that you and I have never had a quarrel.” In 1847 Bowring wrote to Borrow enquiring as to the Russian route through Kiakhta, and asking if he could put him in the way of obtaining the information for the use of a Parliamentary Committee then enquiring into England’s commercial relations with China. Borrow’s reply is apparently no longer in existence; but it drew from Bowring another letter raising a question as to whether “‘two hundred merchants are allowed to visit Pekin every three years.’ Are you certain this is in practice now? Have you ever been to Kiakhta?” It would appear from Bowring’s “if summoned, your expenses must be paid by the public,” that Borrow had suggested giving evidence before the Committee, hence Bowring’s question as to whether Borrow could speak from personal knowledge of Kiakhta. Borrow’s claim against Bowring is that after promising to use all his influence to get him appointed Consul at Canton, he obtained the post for himself, passing off as his own the Manchu-Tartar New Testament that Borrow had edited in St Petersburg. There is absolutely no other evidence than that contained in Borrow’s Appendix to The Romany Rye. There is very little doubt that Bowring was a man who had no hesitation in seizing everything that presented itself and turning it, as far as possible, to his own uses. In this he was doing what most successful men have done and will continue to do. He had been kind to Borrow, and had helped him as far as lay in his power. He no doubt obtained all the information he could from Borrow, as he would have done from anyone else; but he never withheld his help. It has been suggested that he really did mention Borrow as a candidate for the Consulship and later, when in financial straits and finding that Borrow had no chance of obtaining it, accepted Lord Palmerston’s offer of the post for himself. It is, however, idle to speculate what actually happened. What resulted was that Bowring as the “Old Radical” took premier place in the Appendix-inferno that closed The Romany Rye. Fate seemed to conspire to cause Borrow chagrin. Early in 1847 it came to his knowledge that there were in existence some valuable Codices in certain churches and convents in the Levant. In particular there was said to be an original of the Greek New Testament, supposed to date from the fourth century, which had been presented to the convent on Mount Sinai by the Emperor Justinian. Borrow received information of the existence of the treasure, and also a hint that with a little address, some of these priceless manuscripts might be secured to the British Nation. It was even suggested that application might be made to the Government by the Trustees of the British Museum. The information as to the existence of the manuscripts, it is alleged, was given to the Museum Trustees by the Hon. Robert Curzon, who had travelled much in Egypt and the Holy Land. It was certainly no fault of his that the mission was not sent out, and Borrow’s subsequent antagonism to him and his family is difficult to understand and impossible to explain. Borrow had achieved literary success: before the year 1847 The Zincali was in its Fourth Edition (nearly 10,000 copies having been printed) and The Bible in Spain had reached its Eighth Edition (nearly 20,000 copies having been printed). He was an unqualified success; yet he had been far happier when distributing Testaments in Spain. The greyness and inaction of domestic life, even when relieved by occasional excursions with Sidi Habismilk and the Son of the Miracle, were irksome to his temperament, ever eager for occupation and change of scene. He was like a war-horse champing his bit during times of peace.
In 1847, through the Harveys, he became acquainted with Dr Thomas Gordon Hake, who was in practice at Brighton 1832–37 and at Bury St Edmunds 1839–53, and who was also a poet. The two families visited each other, and Dr Hake has left behind him some interesting stories about, and valuable impressions of, Borrow. Dr Hake shows clearly that he did not allow his friendship to influence his judgment when in his Memoirs he described Borrow as
This rather laboured series of paradoxes quite fails to give a convincing impression of the man. A much better idea of Borrow is to be found in a letter (1847) by a fellow-guest at a breakfast given by the Prussian Ambassador. He writes that there was present
Abandoning paradox, Dr Hake is more successful in his description of Borrow’s person.
When not occupied in writing, Borrow would walk about the estate with his animals, between whom and their master a perfect understanding existed. Sidi Habismilk would come to a whistle and would follow him about, and his two dogs and cat would do the same. When he went for a walk the dogs and cat would set out with him; but the cat would turn back after accompanying him for about a quarter of a mile. The two young undergraduates who drove in a gig from Cambridge to Oulton to pay their respects to Borrow (circa 1846) described him as employed
Borrow’s love of animals was almost feminine. The screams of a hare pursued by greyhounds would spoil his appetite for dinner, and he confessed himself as “silly enough to feel disgust and horror at the squeals of a rat in the fangs of a terrier.” Borrow had ample evidence that he was still a celebrity. “He was much courted . . . by his neighbours and by visitors to the sea-side,” Dr Hake relates; but unfortunately he allowed himself to become a prey to moods at rather inappropriate moments. As a lion, Borrow accompanied Dr Hake to some in the great houses of the neighbourhood. On one occasion they went to dine at Hardwick Hall, the residence of Sir Thomas and Lady Cullum. The last-named subsequently became a firm friend of Borrow’s during many years.
There were other moments when Borrow caused acute embarrassment by his rudeness. Once his hostess, a simple unpretending woman desirous only of pleasing her distinguished guest, said, “Oh, Mr Borrow, I have read your books with so much pleasure!” “Pray, what books do you mean, madam? Do you mean my account books?” was the ungracious retort. He then rose from the table, fretting and fuming and walked up and down the dining-room among the servants “during the whole of the dinner, and afterwards wandered about the rooms and passage, till the carriage could be ordered for our return home.” Unfortunate remarks seemed to have a habit of bursting from Borrow’s lips. When Dr Bowring introduced to him his son, Mr F. J. Bowring, and with pardonable pride added that he had just become a Fellow of Trinity, Borrow remarked, “Ah! Fellows of Trinity always marry their bed-makers.” Agnes Strickland was another victim. Being desirous of meeting him and, in spite of Borrow’s unwillingness, achieving her object, she expressed in rapturous terms her admiration of his works, and concluded by asking permission to send him a copy of The Queens of England, to which he ungraciously replied, “For God’s sake, don’t, madam; I should not know where to put them or what to do with them.” “What a damned fool that woman is!” he remarked to W. B. Donne, who was standing by. There is a world of meaning in a paragraph from one of John Murray’s (the Second) letters (21st June 1843) to Borrow in which he enquires, “Did you receive a note from Mme. Simpkinson which I forwarded ten days ago? I have not seen her since your abrupt departure from her house.” It is rather regrettable that the one side of Borrow’s character has to be so emphasised. He could be just and gracious, even to the point of sternly rebuking one who represented his own religious convictions and supporting a dissenter. After a Bible Society’s meeting at Mutford Bridge (the nearest village to Oulton Hall), the speakers repaired to the Hall to supper. One of the guests, an independent minister, became involved in a heated argument with a Church of England clergyman, who reproached him for holding Calvinistic views. The nonconformist replied that the clergy of the Established Church were equally liable to attack on the same ground, because the Articles of their Church were Calvinistic, and to these they had all sworn assent. The reply was that the words were not necessarily to be taken in their literal sense. At this Borrow interposed, attacking the clergyman in a most vigorous fashion for his sophistry, and finally reducing him to silence. The Independent minister afterwards confessed that he had never heard “one man give another such a dressing down as on that occasion.” Borrow was capable of very deep feeling, which is nowhere better shown than in his retort to Richard Latham whom he met at Dr Hake’s table. Well warmed by the generous wine, Latham stated that he should never do anything so low as dine with his publisher. “You do not dine with John Murray, I presume?” he added. “Indeed I do,” Borrow responded with deep emotion. “He is a most kind friend. When I have had sickness in the house he has been unfailing in his goodness towards me. There is no man I more value.” Borrow was a frequent visitor to the Hakes at Bury St Edmunds. W. B. Donne gives a glimpse to him in a letter to Bernard Barton (12th Sept. 1848).
The present Mr John Murray recollects Borrow very clearly as
Borrow was frequently the guest of his publisher at Albemarle Street, in times well within the memory of Mr Murray, who relates how on one occasion
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