The statement made by him that he "frequently spoke up for
Wellington" {90a} may or may not have had reference to contributions
to the press. The fragment itself proves nothing. Many would-be
journalists write "leaders" that never see the case-room.

It is useless to speculate further regarding the period that Borrow
himself elected to veil from the eyes, not only of his
contemporaries, but those of another generation. Men who have
overcome adverse conditions and achieved fame are not as a rule
averse from publishing, or at least allowing to be known, the
difficulties that they had to contend with. Borrow was in no sense
of the word an ordinary man. He unquestionably suffered acutely
during the years of failure, when it seemed likely that his life was
to be wasted, barren of anything else save the acquirement of a score
or more languages; keys that could open literary storehouses that
nobody wanted to explore, to the very existence of which, in fact,
the public was frigidly indifferent.

"Poor George . . . I wish he was making money . . . He works hard
and remains poor," is the comment of his brother John, written in the
autumn of 1830. To no small degree Borrow was responsible for his
own failure, or perhaps it would be more just to say that he had been
denied many of the attributes that make for success. His
independence was aggressive, and it offended people. Even with the
Welsh Preacher and his wife he refused to unbend.

"'What a disposition!'" Winifred had exclaimed, holding up her hands;
"'and this is pride, genuine pride--that feeling which the world
agrees to call so noble. Oh, how mean a thing is pride! never before
did I see all the meanness of what is called pride!'" {91a}