Dear Henrietta,—I shall be glad to see you and Dr. M. as soon as you can make it convenient to come. As for my coming up to London it is quite out of the question. I am suffering greatly, and here I am in this solitude without medicine or advice. I want very much to pay you up your interest. I can do so without the slightest inconvenience. I have money. It is well I have, as it seems to be almost my only friend. God bless you. Kind regards to Dr. M.
George Borrow.
Here I find a letter from Mrs. MacOubrey to her stepfather:
Southgate House, Bury St. Edmunds, Novbr. 25th, 1873.
My beloved Friend,—I sincerely trust that you are well, and received my letter which I sent about ten days ago. Miss Harvey is pretty well and very kind, and it really is a great pleasure to be here during the dark foggy month of November, the most disagreeable in London. I saw Miss Beevor the other day; she is confined to the house with rheumatism and a strain; she was so pleased to see me, and talked about the Images of Mildenhall. They now set up for the great county gentry; give very grand entertainments, dinners, etc., and go also to grand dinners, so their time is fully taken up going and receiving; they never scarce honour the little paltry town of Bury St. Edmunds. Bloomfield, the old butler, is gone to service again; he could not bear himself without horses, so he is gone to the Wigsons, near Bury, where he will have plenty of hunters to look after; he wished to live with Miss Harvey.
Poor Miss Borton died about a week ago; she did not live long to enjoy the huge fortune her brother left. Bury seems very much changing its inhabitants, but there are still some nice people. I shall always like it while dear Miss Harvey lives; she is so very kind to me. It is extremely cold, but we keep tremendous fires, which combats it.
I do sincerely trust, dear, that you are well. I should like to have a line just to say how you are. I return to London the 6th of Decbr., not later, but you see Miss Harvey likes to keep me as long as she can, and I am very happy with her, but at that time I shall be sure to be at home. If you were going up to London I would leave sooner. If you want any medicine or anything, only let me know and you shall have it.
Accept my most affec. love, and believe me ever, your attached daughter,
Henrietta MacOubrey.
P.S.—Miss Harvey desires her kind regards. May God bless you.
Oulton, Lowestoft, April 1, 1874.
Dear Henrietta,—I have received your letter of the 30th March. Since I last wrote I have not been well. I have had a great pain in the left jaw which almost prevented me from eating. I am, however, better now. I shall be glad to see you and Dr. M. as soon as you can conveniently come. Send me a line to say when I may expect you. I have no engagements. Before you come call at No. 36 to inquire whether anything has been sent there. Leverton had better be employed to make a couple of boxes or cases for the books in the sacks. The sacks can be put on the top in the inside. There is an old coat in one of the sacks in the pocket of which are papers. Let it be put in with its contents just as it is. I wish to have the long white chest and the two deal boxes also brought down. Buy me a thick under-waistcoat like that I am now wearing, and a lighter one for the summer. Worsted socks are of no use—they scarcely last a day. Cotton ones are poor things, but they are better than worsted. Kind regards to Dr. M. God bless you!
Return me this when you come.
George Borrow.
Oulton, Nov. 14, 1876.
Dear Henrietta,—You may buy me a large silk handkerchief, like the one you brought before. I shall be glad to see you and Dr. M. I am very unwell.
George Borrow.
Dear Henrietta,—I shall be glad to see you and Dr. M. as soon as you can make it convenient. In a day or two the house will be in good repair and very comfortable. I want you to go to the bank and have the cheque placed to my account. Lady Day is nigh at hand, and it must be seen after. Buy for me a pair of those hollow ground razors and tell Dr. M. to bring a little laudanum. Come if you can on the first of March. It is dear Mama's birthday. God bless you! Kind regards to Dr. M.
George Borrow.
Mrs. Church's, Lady's Lane, Norwich, Feb. 28, 1877.
Dear Henrietta,—I received your letter this morning with the document. The other came to hand at Oulton before I left. I showed Mr. F. the first document on Wednesday, and he expressed then a doubt with regard to the necessity of an affidavit from me, but he said it would perhaps be necessary for him to see the security. I saw him again this morning and he repeated the same thing. To-night he is going to write up to his agent on the subject, and on Monday I am to know what is requisite to be done—therefore pray keep in readiness. On Tuesday, perhaps, I shall return to Oulton, but I don't know. I shall write again on Monday. God bless you.
George Borrow.
Borrow died, as we have seen, in 1881, and was buried by the side of his wife in Brompton Cemetery. By his will, dated 1st December 1880, he bequeathed all his property to his stepdaughter, making his friend, Elizabeth Harvey, her co-executrix. The will, a copy of which is before me, has no public interest, but it may be noted that Miss Harvey refused to act, as the following letter to Mrs. MacOubrey testifies[260]:
Bury St. Edmunds, August 13th.
My dearest Henrietta,—I was just preparing to write to you when yours arrived together with Mrs. Reeve's despatch. You know how earnestly I desire your welfare—but because I do so I earnestly advise you immediately to exercise the right you have of appointing another trustee in my place. I am sure it will be best for you. You ought to have a trustee at least not older than yourself, and one who has health and strength for discharging the office. I know what are the duties of a trustee. There's always a considerable responsibility involved in the discharge of the duties of a trustee—and it may easily occur that great responsibility may be thrown on them, and it may become an anxious business fit only for those who have youth and health and strength of mind, and are likely to live.
My dear friend, you do not like to realise the old age of your dear friends, but you must consider that I am quite past the age for such an office, and my invalid state often prevents my attending to my own small affairs. I have no relation or confidential friend who can act for me. My executors were Miss Venn and John Venn. Miss Venn departed last February to a better land. John is in such health with heart disease that he cannot move far from his home—he writes as one ready and desiring to depart. I do not expect to see him again. So you see, my dearest friend, I am not able to undertake this trusteeship, and I think the sooner you consult Mrs. Reeve as to the appointment of another trustee—the better it will be—and the more permanent. Had I known it was Mr. Borrow's intention to put down my name I should have prevented it, and he would have seen that an aged and invalid lady was not the person to carry out his wishes—for I am quite unable.
I pray that a fit person may be induced to undertake the business, and that it may please God so to order all for your good. It is indeed the greatest mercy that your dear husband is well enough to afford you such help and such comfort. Pray hire a proper servant who will obey orders.—In haste, ever yrs. affectionately,
E. Harvey.
Another letter that has some bearing upon Borrow's last days is worth printing here:
Yarmouth, August 19, 1881.
My dear Mrs. MacOubrey,—I was very sorry indeed to hear of Mr. Borrow's death. I thought he looked older the last time I saw him, but with his vigorous constitution I have not thought the end so near. You and Mr. MacOubrey have the comfort of knowing that you have attended affectionately to his declining years, which would otherwise have been very lonely. I have been abroad for a short time, and this has prevented me from replying to your kind letter before. Pray receive the assurance of my sympathy, and with my kind remembrances to Mr. MacOubrey, believe me, yours very truly,
R. H. Inglis Palgrave.
Three years later Dr. MacOubrey died in his eighty-fourth year, and was interred at Oulton. Mrs. MacOubrey lived for a time at Oulton and then removed to Yarmouth. A letter that she wrote to a friend soon after the death of her husband is perhaps some index to her character:
Oulton Cottage, Oulton, Nr. Lowestoft, Sept. 3rd, 1884.
My dear Sir,—I beg to thank you for your kind thought of me. On Sunday night the 24th Augst., it pleased God to take from me my excellent and beloved husband—his age was nearly 84. He sunk simply from age and weakness. I was his nurse by night and by day, administering constant nourishment, but he became weaker and weaker, till at last 'The silver cord was loosed.' My dear father died about this time three years since, which makes the blow more stunning. I feel very lonely now in my secluded residence on the banks of the Broad—the music of the wild birds adds not to my pleasure now. Trusting that yourself and Mrs. S—— may long be spared.—Believe me to remain, yours very truly,
Henrietta MacOubrey.
The cottage at Oulton was soon afterwards pulled down, but the summer-house where Borrow wrote a portion of his Bible in Spain and his other works remained for some years. That ultimately an entirely new structure took its place may be seen by comparing the roof in Mrs. MacOubrey's drawing with the illustration of the structure as it is to-day. Mrs. MacOubrey died in 1903 at Yarmouth, and the following inscription may be found on her tomb in Oulton Churchyard:
Sacred to the memory of Henrietta Mary, widow of William MacOubrey, only daughter of Lieut. Henry Clarke, R.N., and Mary Skepper, his wife, and stepdaughter of George Henry Borrow, Esq., the celebrated author of The Bible in Spain, The Gypsies of Spain, Lavengro, The Romany Rye, Wild Wales, and other works and translations. Henrietta Mary MacOubrey was born at Oulton Hall in this Parish, May 17th, 1818, and died 23rd December 1903. 'And He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.'—Psalm xci. 11.
The following extract from her will is of interest as indicating the trend of a singularly kindly nature. The intimate friends of Mrs. MacOubrey's later years, whose opinion is of more value than that of village gossips, speak of her in terms of sincere affection:
I give the following charitable legacies, namely, to the London Bible Society, in remembrance of the great interest my dear father, George Henry Borrow, took in the success of its great work for the benefit of mankind, the sum of one hundred pounds. To the Foreign Missionary Society the sum of one hundred pounds. To the London Religious Tract Society the sum of one hundred pounds. To the London Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the sum of one hundred pounds.
[252] Henrietta's guitar is now in my possession and is a very handsome instrument.
[253] Henrietta MacOubrey put every difficulty in the way of Dr. Knapp, and I hold many letters from her strongly denouncing his Life.
[254] The stories against Henrietta MacOubrey have received endorsement from that pleasant writer Mr. W. A. Dutt, who has long lived near Lowestoft. It is conveyed in such a communication as the following from a correspondent: 'After Borrow's death Mr. Reeve, Curator of Norwich Castle Museum, visited the Oulton house with the Rev. J. Gunn (died 28th May 1890), having some idea of buying Borrow's books for the Colman collection. Mrs. MacOubrey wanted £1000 for them, but Mr. Reeve did not think them worth more than £200. They were, however, bought by Webber of Ipswich, who soon afterwards entered into the employment of Jarrold of Norwich. Mr. Reeve described the scene as one of rank dilapidation and decay—evidences of extreme untidiness and neglect everywhere.'
[255] Mr. Herbert Jenkins has drawn a quite wrong conclusion—although natural under the circumstances—from a letter he had seen in which Borrow asked his wife for money. Mrs. Borrow kept the banking account. Moreover, it is not generally known that Borrow completed the possession of his wife's estate, including Oulton Hall farm and some cottage property, with the money that came to him from The Bible in Spain.
[256] 'George Borrow Reminiscences' in The Eastern Daily Press, July 31, 1913.
[257] Mr. Baldrey also gives us reminiscences of Borrow's prowess as a swimmer:
'It was one of the signs of his perfect health and vigour that he was a fine swimmer. On one occasion George Jay and John Pilgrim were out for a sail in Jay's old yacht, the Widgeon. Becalmed, they were drifting somewhere down by Reedham, when suddenly Borrow said, "George, how deep is it here?" "About twenty-two feet, sir," said George Jay. The partners always called him "sir." "George," said Borrow, "I am going to the bottom." Straightway he stripped, dived, and presently came up with a handful of mud and weeds. "There, George," he said, "I've been to the bottom," Some time in 1872 or 1873, for Borrow was then sixty-nine, my mother and I were walking on the beach at Lowestoft, when just round the Ness Light we met Borrow coming: towards us from the Corton side. He got hold of my shoulder, and, pointing to the big black buoy beyond the Ness, he said, "There! Do you see that? I have just been out there. I have not been back many minutes." At the age of nearly seventy he had been round the Ness Buoy and home again—a wonderful performance if, in addition to his age, you remember the dangerous set of the currents thereabouts.'
There is also a story, which comes to me from another quarter, of Borrow skating upon the ice of Oulton Broad a few months before his death, and remarking that he had not skated since he was in Russia. The following passage from Mr. Baldrey's narrative is interesting as showing that Borrow did not in later life quite lose sight of his birthplace:
'Apparently I interested him in some way, for twice while I was at school at East Dereham he came over specially to take me out for the afternoon. He had ascertained from my mother which were the school half-holidays, and purposely chose those days so that I might be free. We would start off at half-past twelve and return at bedtime. Where we went I could not tell you for certain, but I know that once we went through Scarning and once through Mattishall. What we talked about of course I cannot recall, for I was then a boy between 13 and 15 years of age, and I had no sort of inkling that my companion was even then a celebrity and destined to be a still greater one in the future. But I do remember that sometimes I could not get a word out of him for an hour or more, and that then suddenly he would break out with all sorts of questions. "I wonder if you can see what I can," he once remarked. "Do you see that the gypsies have been here?" "No," I replied. "And you are not likely to," said he. And then he would tell me no more. He was rather prone to arouse one's curiosity and refuse to pursue the subject. I do not mean that he was morose. Far from it. He was always very kind to me. After I had left school and returned to Norwich he frequently called for me and took me out with him. Once or twice I went with him to Lowestoft.'
[258] One of them is entitled The Present Crisis: The True Cause of Our Indian Troubles, by William MacOubrey of the Middle Temple. There are also countless pamphlets in manuscript. MacOubrey was an enthusiastic and indeed truculent upholder of the Act of Union.
[259] The farm referred to was Oulton Hall farm, often referred to as Oulton Hall.
[260] Another letter from Miss Harvey, dated 1st August, is one of sympathy, and there are passages in it that may well be taken to heart when it is considered that Miss Harvey was the most intimate friend of Borrow and his stepdaughter:
'Bury, August 1st, 1881.
'Dearest Friend,—Though I cannot be with you in your trouble I am continually thinking of you, and praying that all needful help and comfort may be sent to you as you need and how you need it. I have no means of hearing any particulars, and am most anxious to know how you do, and how you have got through the last painful week. Whenever you feel able write me a few words, I await them with much anxiety. When you are able to realise the reality of his eternal gain—you will feel that all is well. A great spirit, a great and noble spirit, has passed from the earth, his earthly tabernacle is taken down to be raised again—glorious and immortal, a fitting abode for a spirit of the just made perfect. How wonderful are those words, "made perfect." We are even now part of that grand assembly where they dwell. "We are come to the general assembly and church of the first born which are written in heaven. To God the judge of all, to Jesus the Mediator, to an innumerable company of angels, etc., to the spirits of the just made perfect." Let us realise our communion with them even now, and soon to meet them on the Resurrection Morn—when they who sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him ... and so we shall be ever with the Lord.
Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, their works do follow them. Your beloved father's work in Spain will follow him. His efforts to spread the word of God in that benighted land, ever has and ever will bring forth blessed fruits. Dearest Henrietta, be comforted, you have been a most devoted daughter to him, and latterly his greatest earthly comfort; your dear husband also; and together you have tended him to the last. He now rests in peace. All the sufferings of mind and body are over for ever. You will have much earthly business on your hands. I pray that you may be directed in all things by true wisdom. The time is short, we must set our houses in order, that we may not be unnecessarily burdened with earthly cares. Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content.
'Let us be without carefulness, and so quietly and piously spend the
remnant of our days—ever growing in the knowledge of Christ, and
finding in Him all our comfort and all our joy, and when our own time
of departure shall arrive may we be ready and able to say, "I have a
desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better." The path
of the just is as the shining light which shineth more and more unto the
perfect day. May our path be so lighted up—until the day break and
the shadows flee away. Dearest friend, do write soon. I am so anxious to
hear how Dr. MacOubrey is.—Your most affect. friend,
E. Harvey.
'We are all Borrovians now.'—Augustine Birrell.
It is a curious fact that of only two men of distinction in English letters in these later years can it be said that they lived to a good old age and yet failed of recognition for work that is imperishable. Many poets have died young—Shelley and Keats for example—to whom this public recognition was refused in their lifetime. But given the happiness of reaching middle age, this recognition has never failed. It came, for example, to Wordsworth and Coleridge long after their best work was done. It came with more promptness to all the great Victorian novelists. This recognition did not come in their lifetime to two Suffolk friends, Edward FitzGerald with Omar Khayyám and George Borrow with Lavengro. In the case of FitzGerald there was probably no consciousness that he had produced a great poem. In any case his sunny Irish temperament could easily have surmounted disappointment if he had expected anything from the world in the way of literary fame. Borrow was quite differently made. He was as intense an egoist as Rousseau, whose work he had probably never read, and would not have appreciated if he had read. He longed for the recognition of the multitude through his books, and thoroughly enjoyed it when it was given to him for a moment—for his Bible in Spain. Such appreciation as he received in his lifetime was given to him for that book and for no other. There were here and there enthusiasts for his Lavengro and Romany Rye. Dr. Jessopp has told us that he was one. But it was not until long after his death that the word 'Borrovian'[261] came into the language. Not a single great author among his contemporaries praised him for his Lavengro, the book for which we most esteem him to-day. His name is not mentioned by Carlyle or Tennyson or Ruskin in all their voluminous works. Among the novelists also he is of no account. Dickens and Thackeray and George Eliot knew him not. Charlotte Brontë does indeed write of him with enthusiasm,[262] but she is alone among the great Victorian authors in this particular. Borrow's Lavengro received no commendation from contemporary writers of the first rank. He died in his seventy-eighth year an obscure recluse whose works were all but forgotten. Since that year, 1881, his fame has been continually growing. His greatest work, Lavengro, has been reprinted with introductions by many able critics;[263] notable essayists have proclaimed his worth. Of these Mr. Watts-Dunton and Mr. Augustine Birrell have been the most assiduous. The efforts of the former have already been noted. Mr. Birrell has expressed his devotion in more than one essay.[264] Referring to a casual reference by Robert Louis Stevenson to The Bible in Spain,[265] in which R. L. S. speaks well of that book, Mr. Birrell, not without irony, says:
It is interesting to know this, interesting, that is, to the great Clan Stevenson, who owe suit and service to their liege lord; but so far as Borrow is concerned, it does not matter, to speak frankly, two straws. The author of Lavengro, The Romany Rye, The Bible in Spain, and Wild Wales is one of those kings of literature who never need to number their tribe. His personality will always secure him an attendant company, who, when he pipes, must dance.
This is to sum up the situation to perfection. You cannot force people to become readers of Borrow by argument, by criticism, or by the force of authority. You reach the stage of admiration and even love by effects which rise remote from all questions of style or taste. To say, as does a recent critic, that 'there is something in Borrow after all; not so much as most people suppose, but still a great deal,'[266] is to miss the compelling power of his best books as they strike those with whom they are among the finest things in literature.[267] In attempting to interest new readers in the man—and this book is not for the sect called Borrovians, to whom I recommend the earlier biographies, but for a wider public which knows not Borrow—I hope I shall succeed in sending many to those incomparable works, which have given me so many pleasant hours.
[261] A word that is very misleading, as no writer was ever so little the founder of a school.
[262] Although this fact was not known until 1908 when I published The Brontës: Life and Letters. See vol. ii. p. 24, where Charlotte Brontë writes: 'In George Borrow's works I found a wild fascination, a vivid graphic power of description, a fresh originality, an athletic simplicity, which give them a stamp of their own.'
[263] Theodore Watts-Dunton, Augustine Birrell, Francis Hindes Groome, and Thomas Seccombe. Lionel Johnson's essay on Borrow is the more valuable in its enthusiasm in that it was written by a Roman Catholic. Writing in the Outlook (April 1, 1899) he said:
'What the four books mean and are to their lovers is upon this sort. Written by a man of intense personality, irresistible in his hold upon your attention, they take you far afield from weary cares and business into the enamouring airs of the open world, and into days when the countryside was uncontaminated by the vulgar conventions which form the worst side of "civilised" life in cities. They give you the sense of emancipation, of manumission into the liberty of the winding road and fragrant forest, into the freshness of an ancient country-life, into a milieu where men are not copies of each other. And you fall in with strange scenes of adventure, great or small, of which a strange man is the centre as he is the scribe; and from a description of a lonely glen you are plunged into a dissertation upon difficult old tongues, and from dejection into laughter, and from gypsydom into journalism, and everything is equally delightful, and nothing that the strange man shows you can come amiss. And you will hardly make up your mind whether he is most Don Quixote, or Rousseau, or Luther, or Defoe; but you will always love these books by a brave man who travelled in far lands, travelled far in his own land, travelled the way of life for close upon eighty years, and died in perfect solitude. And this will be the least you can say, though he would not have you say it—Requiescat in pace Viator.'
[264] In Res Judicatæ 1892 (a paper reprinted from The Reflector, Jan. 8, 1888), in his Introduction to Lavengro (Macmillan, 1900), in an essay entitled 'The Office of literature,' in the second series of Obiter Dicta, and in an address at Norwich; on July 5, 1913, reprinted in full in the Eastern Daily Press of July 7, 1913.
[265] There are but three references to Borrow in Stevenson's writings, all of them perfunctory. These are in Memories and Portraits ('A Gossip on a novel of Dumas''), in Familiar Studies of Men and Books ('Some aspects of Robert Burns'), and in The Ideal House.
[266] The Spectator, July 12, 1913.
[267] On July 6, 1913, Dr. H. C. Beeching, Dean of Norwich, preached a sermon on Borrow in Norwich Cathedral, which in its graceful literary enthusiasm may be counted the culminating point of recognition of Borrow so far, when the place is considered. The sermon has been published by Jarrold and Sons of Norwich.