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Updated: June 14, 2025
Grubbing about among the lockers, I found a canvas table-cloth, which had once been part of a sail. I spread this cloth with the breakfast gear, imitating the arrangements made at home at Oulton. The mate came down some minutes after I had finished. He caught me sitting down on the top of the lockers, looking out at the ships through the open port. "Here," he said roughly.
While there he met Mrs. Mary Clarke, who afterwards became his wife. This lady, who was the widow of a naval officer, was connected with a Suffolk family which had been associated with the village of Oulton for several generations. Their name was Skeppar, and it was in their old Suffolk home by the side of Oulton Broad that Borrow went to live on his return to England.
The First Secretary took up the case immediately, forwarding Borrow's letter to Don Perez de Castro with a request for "proper steps to be taken, should Mr Borrow's complaint . . . be considered by His Excellency as properly founded." The rather quaint reply to Borrow's charges was not forthcoming until he had left Spain and was living at Oulton. MADRID, 11th May 1840.
Do, NOT let this note remain on your table," she concludes, "or MENTION it." If Borrow were a problem to his wife and to his publisher, he presented equal difficulties to the country folk about Oulton. To one he was "a missionary out of work," to another "a man who kep' 'isself to 'isself"; but to none was he the tired lion weary of the chase.
MacOubrey, and have never been printed. His last book, “The Romano Lavo-Lil,” was issued in 1872. Between 1860 and 1870, Borrow spent a good deal of his time in London, at his house in Hereford Square. This was mainly on account of the ill-health of his wife, who died there in 1869, and was buried in Brompton Cemetery. After her death, however, he returned to Oulton, telling Mr.
It was for him to decide what he would give to the public and what he would withhold. The concluding chapter of Dr. Knapp’s book is not only pathetic—it is painful. In the summer of 1874 Borrow left London, bade adieu to Mr. Murray and a few friends, and returned to Oulton—to die. On the 26th of July, 1881, he was found dead in his home at Oulton, in his seventy-ninth year.
When he took and furnished the large house in the little square, there had been in Borrow's mind another reason than a desire for solitude and freedom from prying eyes. Throughout his labours in Spain he had kept up a correspondence with Mrs Clarke of Oulton, who, on 15th March, had written informing him of her intention to take up her abode for a short time at Seville.
When he could not write to her, he got his wife to do so; and from 1849 she lived with them at Oulton. As to the poor, Knapp tells us that he left behind him letters of gratitude or acknowledgment from individuals, churches, and chapels. His horse, Sidi Habismilk, the Arab, seems to have returned his admiration and esteem.
The neighbourhood of Oulton appears to have been infested with thieves, and poachers found admirable "cover" in the surrounding plantations, or small woods. On several occasions Borrow himself had been attacked at night on the highway between Lowestoft and Oulton. Once he had even been shot at and nearly overpowered. Borrow had written to John Murray, Junr.
John, who was a wild lad, much older than I, used to go among the gipsies in their great winter camp at Oulton. He learned many strange tricks from them. He was a good camp-companion. I think that the last two years of my life at Oulton were the happiest years of my life. I have never cared for dry or hilly countries since.
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