The Life of George Borrow [145]
At times "he suffered from sleeplessness, when he would get up and walk to Norwich (25 miles) and return the next night recovered" {333a} yet Borrow has said that "he always had the health of an elephant."
He was proud of the Church and took great pleasure in showing to his friends the brasses it contained, including one bearing an effigy of Sir John Fastolf, whom he considered to be the original of Falstaff. He was also "very fond of his trees. He quite fretted if by some mischance he lost one." {333b}
His methods with the country people round Oulton were calculated to earn for him a reputation for queerness. "Curiosity is the leading feature of my character" {333c} he confessed, and the East Anglian looks upon curiosity in others with marked suspicion. It was impossible for Borrow to walk far without getting into conversation with someone or other. He delighted in getting people to tell their histories and experiences; "when they used some word peculiar to Norfolk (or Suffolk) country men, he would say 'Why, that's a Danish word.' By and bye the man would use another peculiar expression, 'Why, that's Saxon'; a little further on another, 'Why, that's French.' And he would add, 'Why, what a wonderful man you are to speak so many languages.' One man got very angry, but Mr Borrow was quite unconscious that he had given any offence." {334a}
He took pleasure in puzzling people about languages. Elizabeth Harvey tells {334b} how he once put a book before her telling her to read it, and on her saying she could not, he replied, "You ought; it's your own language." The volume was written in Saxon. Yet for all this he hated to hear foreign words introduced into conversation. When he heard such adulterations of the English language he would exclaim jocosely, "What's that, trying to come over me with strange languages?" {334c}
Borrow's first thoughts on settling down were of literature. He had material for several books, as he had informed Mr Brandram. Putting aside, at least for the present, the translations of the ballads and songs, he devoted himself to preparing for the press a book upon the Spanish Gypsies. During the five years spent in Spain he had gathered together much material. He had made notes in queer places under strange and curious conditions, "in moments snatched from more important pursuits--chiefly in ventas and posadas" {334d}--whilst engaged in distributing the Gospel. It was a book of facts that he meant to write, not theories, and if he sometimes fostered error, it was because at the moment it was his conception of truth. Very little remained to do to the manuscript. Mrs. Borrow had performed her share of the work in making a fair copy for the printer. Borrow's subsequent remark that the manuscript "was written by a country amanuensis and probably contains many ridiculous errata," was scarcely gracious to the wife, who seems to have comprehended so well the first principle of wifely duty to an illustrious and, it must be admitted, autocratic genius--viz., self-extinction.
"No man could endure a clever wife," Borrow once confided to the unsympathetic ear of Frances Power Cobbe; but he had married one nevertheless. No woman whose cleverness had not reached the point of inspiration could have lived in intimate association with so capricious and masterful a man as George Borrow. John Hasfeldt, in sending his congratulations, had seemed to suggest that Borrow was one of those abstruse works of nature that require close and constant study. "When your wife thoroughly knows you," he wrote, "she will smooth the wrinkles on your brow and you will be so cheerful and happy that your grey hair will turn black again."
"In November 1840 a tall athletic gentleman in black called upon Mr Murray, offering a manuscript for perusal and publication." {335a} Fifteen years before, the same "tall athletic gentleman" had called a dozen times at 50a Albemarle Street with translations of Northern and Welsh ballads, but "never could see Glorious John." Borrow had determined to make another attempt to
He was proud of the Church and took great pleasure in showing to his friends the brasses it contained, including one bearing an effigy of Sir John Fastolf, whom he considered to be the original of Falstaff. He was also "very fond of his trees. He quite fretted if by some mischance he lost one." {333b}
His methods with the country people round Oulton were calculated to earn for him a reputation for queerness. "Curiosity is the leading feature of my character" {333c} he confessed, and the East Anglian looks upon curiosity in others with marked suspicion. It was impossible for Borrow to walk far without getting into conversation with someone or other. He delighted in getting people to tell their histories and experiences; "when they used some word peculiar to Norfolk (or Suffolk) country men, he would say 'Why, that's a Danish word.' By and bye the man would use another peculiar expression, 'Why, that's Saxon'; a little further on another, 'Why, that's French.' And he would add, 'Why, what a wonderful man you are to speak so many languages.' One man got very angry, but Mr Borrow was quite unconscious that he had given any offence." {334a}
He took pleasure in puzzling people about languages. Elizabeth Harvey tells {334b} how he once put a book before her telling her to read it, and on her saying she could not, he replied, "You ought; it's your own language." The volume was written in Saxon. Yet for all this he hated to hear foreign words introduced into conversation. When he heard such adulterations of the English language he would exclaim jocosely, "What's that, trying to come over me with strange languages?" {334c}
Borrow's first thoughts on settling down were of literature. He had material for several books, as he had informed Mr Brandram. Putting aside, at least for the present, the translations of the ballads and songs, he devoted himself to preparing for the press a book upon the Spanish Gypsies. During the five years spent in Spain he had gathered together much material. He had made notes in queer places under strange and curious conditions, "in moments snatched from more important pursuits--chiefly in ventas and posadas" {334d}--whilst engaged in distributing the Gospel. It was a book of facts that he meant to write, not theories, and if he sometimes fostered error, it was because at the moment it was his conception of truth. Very little remained to do to the manuscript. Mrs. Borrow had performed her share of the work in making a fair copy for the printer. Borrow's subsequent remark that the manuscript "was written by a country amanuensis and probably contains many ridiculous errata," was scarcely gracious to the wife, who seems to have comprehended so well the first principle of wifely duty to an illustrious and, it must be admitted, autocratic genius--viz., self-extinction.
"No man could endure a clever wife," Borrow once confided to the unsympathetic ear of Frances Power Cobbe; but he had married one nevertheless. No woman whose cleverness had not reached the point of inspiration could have lived in intimate association with so capricious and masterful a man as George Borrow. John Hasfeldt, in sending his congratulations, had seemed to suggest that Borrow was one of those abstruse works of nature that require close and constant study. "When your wife thoroughly knows you," he wrote, "she will smooth the wrinkles on your brow and you will be so cheerful and happy that your grey hair will turn black again."
"In November 1840 a tall athletic gentleman in black called upon Mr Murray, offering a manuscript for perusal and publication." {335a} Fifteen years before, the same "tall athletic gentleman" had called a dozen times at 50a Albemarle Street with translations of Northern and Welsh ballads, but "never could see Glorious John." Borrow had determined to make another attempt to