For some time past Borrow’s thoughts had been directed towards obtaining a Government post abroad. The sentence, “You tell me to ask for situations, etc.,” in a letter to his wife had reference to this ambition. He had previously (21st June 1841) written to Lord Clarendon suggesting for himself a consulship; but the reply had not been encouraging. It was “quite hopeless to expect a consulship from Lord Palmerston, the applicants were too many and the appointments too few.”
Borrow recognised the stagnation of his present life.
“I wish the Government would give me some command in Ireland which would call forth my energies,” he wrote to John Murray (25th Oct. 1843). “If there be an outbreak there I shall apply to them at once, for my heart is with them in the present matter: I hope they will be firm, and they have nothing to fear; I am sure that the English nation will back them, for the insolence and ingratitude of the Irish, and the cowardice of their humbug chief, have caused universal disgust.” Later he wrote, also to John Murray, with reference to that “trumpery fellow O’Connell . . . I wish I were acquainted with Sir Robert Peel. I could give him many a useful hint with respect to Ireland and the Irish. I know both tolerably well. Whenever there’s a row I intend to go over with Sidi Habismilk and put myself at the head of a body of volunteers.”
He had previously written “the old Duke [Wellington] will at last give salt eel to that cowardly, bawling vagabond O’Connell.” Borrow detested O’Connell as a “Dublin bully . . . a humbug, without courage or one particle of manly feeling.” Again (17th June) he had written: “Horrible news from Ireland. I wish sincerely the blackguards would break out at once; they will never be quiet until they have got a sound licking, and the sooner the better.”
The finer side of Borrow’s character was shown in his eagerness to obtain employment. There is a touch of pathos in the sight of this knight, armed and ready to fight anything for anybody, wasting his strength and his talents in feuds with his neighbours.
In the profits on the old and the preparation of new editions of The Bible in Spain, Borrow took a keen interest. The money he was making enabled him to assist his wife in disembarrassing her estate. “I begin to take considerable pleasure in making money,” he wrote to his publisher, “which I hope is a good sign; for what is life unless we take pleasure in something?” Again he enquires, “Why does not the public call for another edition of them [The Gypsies of Spain]. You see what an unconscionable rascal I am becoming.” During his lifetime Borrow received from the firm of Murray, £3437, 19s., most of which was on account of The Bible in Spain and, consequently, was paid to him during the first years of his association with Albemarle Street.
Caroline Fox gives an interesting picture of Borrow at this period as he appeared to her:—
“25th Oct. 1843.
“Catherine Gurney gave us a note to George Borrow, so on him we called,—a tall, ungainly, uncouth man, with great physical strength, a quick penetrating eye, a confident manner, and a disagreeable tone and pronunciation. He was sitting on one side of the fire, and his old mother on the other. His spirits always sink in wet weather, and to-day was very rainy, but he was courteous and not displeased to be a little lionised, for his delicacy is not of the most susceptible. He talked about Spain and the Spaniards; the lowest classes of whom, he says, are the only ones worth investigating, the upper and middle class being (with exceptions, of course) mean, selfish, and proud beyond description. They care little for Roman Catholicism, and bear faint allegiance to the Pope. They generally lead profligate lives, until they lose all energy and then become slavishly superstitious. He said a curious thing of the Esquimaux, namely, that their language is a most complex and highly artificial one, calculated to express the most delicate metaphysical subtleties, yet they have no literature, nor are there any traces of their ever having had one—a most curious anomaly; hence he simply argues that you can ill judge of a people by their language.” [360a]
One of the strangest things about Borrow’s personality was that it almost invariably struck women unfavourably. That he himself was not indifferent to women is shown by the impression made upon him by the black eyes of one of the Misses Mills of Saxham Hall, where he was taken to dinner by Dr Hake, who states that “long afterwards, his inquiries after the black eyes were unfailing.” [360b] He was also very kind and considerate to women. “He was very polite and gentlemanly in ladies’ society, and we all liked him,” wrote one woman friend [360c] who frequently accompanied him on his walks. She has described him as walking along “singing to himself or quite silent, quite forgetting me until he came to a high hill, when he would turn round, seize my hand, and drag me up. Then he would sit down and enjoy the prospect.” [360d]