Abandoning paradox, Dr Hake is more successful in his description of Borrow’s person.
“His figure was tall,” he tells us, “and his bearing very noble; he had a finely moulded head, and thick white hair—white from his youth; his brown eyes were soft, yet piercing; his nose somewhat of the ‘semitic’ type, which gave his face the cast of the young Memnon. His mouth had a generous curve; and his features, for beauty and true power, were such as can have no parallel in our portrait gallery.” [380b]
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. [381a]
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
“in training some young horses to follow him about like dogs and come at the call of his whistle. As my two friends [381b] were talking with him, Borrow sounded his whistle in a paddock near the house, which, if I remember rightly, was surrounded by a low wall. Immediately two beautiful horses came bounding over the fence and trotted up to their master. One put his nose into Borrow’s outstretched hand and the other kept snuffing at his pockets in expectation of the usual bribe for confidence and good behaviour.”
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.” [381c] When a favourite cat was so ill that it crawled away to die in solitude, Borrow went in search of it and, discovering the poor creature in the garden-hedge, carried it back into the house, laid it in a comfortable place and watched over it until it died. His care of the much persecuted “Church of England cat” at Llangollen [381d] is another instance of his tender-heartedness with regard to animals.
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.
“The party consisted of Lord Bristol; Lady Augusta Seymour, his daughter; Lord and Lady Arthur Hervey; Sir Fitzroy Kelly; Mr Thackeray, and ourselves. At that date, Thackeray had made money by lectures on The Satirists, and was in good swing; but he never could realise the independent feelings of those who happen to be born to fortune—a thing which a man of genius should be able to do with ease. He told Lady Cullum, which she repeated to me, that no one could conceive how it mortified him to be making a provision for his daughters by delivering lectures; and I thought she rather sympathised with him in this degradation. He approached Borrow, who, however, received him very dryly. As a last attempt to get up a conversation with him, he said, ‘Have you read my Snob Papers in Punch?’”
“‘In Punch?’ asked Borrow. ‘It is a periodical I never look at!’
“It was a very fine dinner. The plates at dessert were of gold; they once belonged to the Emperor of the French, and were marked with his “N” and his Eagle.
“Thackeray, as if under the impression that the party was invited to look at him, thought it necessary to make a figure, and absorb attention during the dessert, by telling stories and more than half acting them; the aristocratic party listening, but appearing little amused. Borrow knew better how to behave in good company, and kept quiet; though, doubtless he felt his mane.” [382]
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.” [383a] The reason for this unpardonable behaviour appears to have been ill-judged loyalty to a friend. His host was a well-known Suffolk banker who, having advanced a large sum of money to a friend of Borrow’s, the heir to a considerable estate, who was in temporary difficulties, then “struck the docket” in order to secure payment. Borrow confided to another friend that he yearned “to cane the banker.” His loyalty to his friend excuses his wrath; it was his judgment that was at fault. He should undoubtedly have caned the banker, in preference to going to his house as a guest and revenging his friend upon the gentle and amiable woman who could not be held responsible for her husband’s business transgressions.
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. [383b]