The Life of George Borrow [144]
and a table; whilst behind the door hung the sword and regimental coat of the sleeping warrior to whom his younger son had been an affliction of the spirit, because his mind pursued paths that appeared so strangely perilous.
Here in this Summer-house Borrow wrote his books. Here when "sickness was in the land, and the face of nature was overcast--heavy rain-clouds swam in the heavens--the blast howled amid the pines which nearly surround the lonely dwelling, and the waters of the lake which lies before it, so quiet in general and tranquil, were fearfully agitated," Borrow shouted, "'Bring lights hither, O Hayim Ben Attar, son of the miracle!' And the Jew of Fez brought in the lights," {331a} and his master commenced writing a book that was to make him famous. When tired of writing, he would sometimes sing "strange words in a stentorian voice, while passers-by on the lake would stop to listen with astonishment and curiosity to the singular sounds." {331b}
Life at Oulton Cottage was delightfully simple. Borrow was a good host. "I am rather hospitable than otherwise," {331c} he wrote, and thoroughly disliked anything in the nature of meanness. There was always a bottle of wine of a rare vintage for the honoured guest. Sometimes the host himself would hasten away to the little Summer- house by the side of the Broad to muse, his eyes fixed upon the military coat and sword, or to scribble upon scraps of paper that, later, were to be transcribed by Mrs Borrow. Borrow would spend his evenings with his wife and Henrietta, generally in reading until bedtime.
In the Norwich days Borrow had formed an acquaintance with another articled-clerk named Harvey (probably one of his colleagues at Tuck's Court). They had kindred tastes, in particular a love of the open air and vigorous exercise. After settling at Oulton, the Borrows and the Harveys (then living at Bury St Edmunds) became very intimate, and frequently visited each other. Elizabeth Harvey, the daughter of Borrow's contemporary, has given an extremely interesting account of the home life of the Borrows. She has described how sometimes Borrow would sing one of his Romany songs, "shake his fist at me and look quite wild. Then he would ask: 'Aren't you afraid of me?' 'No, not at all,' I would say. Then he would look just as gentle and kind, and say, 'God bless you, I would not hurt a hair of your head.'" {332a}
Miss Harvey has also given us many glimpses into Borrow's character. "He was very fond of ghost stories," she writes, "and believed in the supernatural." {332b} He enjoyed music of a lively description, one of his favourite compositions being the well-known "Redowa" polka, which he would frequently ask to have played to him again.
As an eater Borrow was very moderate, he "took very little breakfast but ate a very great quantity of dinner, and then had only a draught of cold water before going to bed . . . He was very temperate and would eat what was set before him, often not thinking of what he was doing, and he never refused what was offered him." {332c} On one occasion when he was dining with the Harveys, young Harvey, seeing Borrow engrossed in telling of his travels, handed him dish after dish in rapid succession, from all of which he helped himself, entirely unconscious of what he was doing. Finally his plate was full to overflowing, perceiving which he became very angry, and it was some time before he could be appeased. A practical joke made no appeal to him. {332d}
Elizabeth Harvey also tells how, when a cousin of hers was staying at Cromer, the landlady went to her one day and said, "O, Miss, there's such a curious gentleman been. I don't know what to think of him, I asked him what he would like for dinner, and he said, 'Give me a piece of flesh.'" "What sort of gentleman was it?" enquired the cousin, and on hearing the description recognised George Borrow, and explained that the strange visitor merely wanted a rump-steak, a favourite dish with him.
As he did not shoot or hunt, he obtained exercise either by riding or walking.
Here in this Summer-house Borrow wrote his books. Here when "sickness was in the land, and the face of nature was overcast--heavy rain-clouds swam in the heavens--the blast howled amid the pines which nearly surround the lonely dwelling, and the waters of the lake which lies before it, so quiet in general and tranquil, were fearfully agitated," Borrow shouted, "'Bring lights hither, O Hayim Ben Attar, son of the miracle!' And the Jew of Fez brought in the lights," {331a} and his master commenced writing a book that was to make him famous. When tired of writing, he would sometimes sing "strange words in a stentorian voice, while passers-by on the lake would stop to listen with astonishment and curiosity to the singular sounds." {331b}
Life at Oulton Cottage was delightfully simple. Borrow was a good host. "I am rather hospitable than otherwise," {331c} he wrote, and thoroughly disliked anything in the nature of meanness. There was always a bottle of wine of a rare vintage for the honoured guest. Sometimes the host himself would hasten away to the little Summer- house by the side of the Broad to muse, his eyes fixed upon the military coat and sword, or to scribble upon scraps of paper that, later, were to be transcribed by Mrs Borrow. Borrow would spend his evenings with his wife and Henrietta, generally in reading until bedtime.
In the Norwich days Borrow had formed an acquaintance with another articled-clerk named Harvey (probably one of his colleagues at Tuck's Court). They had kindred tastes, in particular a love of the open air and vigorous exercise. After settling at Oulton, the Borrows and the Harveys (then living at Bury St Edmunds) became very intimate, and frequently visited each other. Elizabeth Harvey, the daughter of Borrow's contemporary, has given an extremely interesting account of the home life of the Borrows. She has described how sometimes Borrow would sing one of his Romany songs, "shake his fist at me and look quite wild. Then he would ask: 'Aren't you afraid of me?' 'No, not at all,' I would say. Then he would look just as gentle and kind, and say, 'God bless you, I would not hurt a hair of your head.'" {332a}
Miss Harvey has also given us many glimpses into Borrow's character. "He was very fond of ghost stories," she writes, "and believed in the supernatural." {332b} He enjoyed music of a lively description, one of his favourite compositions being the well-known "Redowa" polka, which he would frequently ask to have played to him again.
As an eater Borrow was very moderate, he "took very little breakfast but ate a very great quantity of dinner, and then had only a draught of cold water before going to bed . . . He was very temperate and would eat what was set before him, often not thinking of what he was doing, and he never refused what was offered him." {332c} On one occasion when he was dining with the Harveys, young Harvey, seeing Borrow engrossed in telling of his travels, handed him dish after dish in rapid succession, from all of which he helped himself, entirely unconscious of what he was doing. Finally his plate was full to overflowing, perceiving which he became very angry, and it was some time before he could be appeased. A practical joke made no appeal to him. {332d}
Elizabeth Harvey also tells how, when a cousin of hers was staying at Cromer, the landlady went to her one day and said, "O, Miss, there's such a curious gentleman been. I don't know what to think of him, I asked him what he would like for dinner, and he said, 'Give me a piece of flesh.'" "What sort of gentleman was it?" enquired the cousin, and on hearing the description recognised George Borrow, and explained that the strange visitor merely wanted a rump-steak, a favourite dish with him.
As he did not shoot or hunt, he obtained exercise either by riding or walking.