Chapter XXXIV: Henrietta Clarke

BORROW never had a child, but happy for him was the part played by his stepdaughter Henrietta in his life. She was twenty-three years old when her mother married him, and it is clear to me that she was from the beginning of their friendship and even to the end of his life devoted to her stepfather. Readers of _Wild Wales_ will recall not only the tribute that Borrow pays to her, which we have already quoted, in which he refers to her “good qualities and many accomplishments,” but the other pleasant references in that book. “Henrietta,” he says in one passage, “played on the guitar {255} and sang a Spanish song, to the great delight of John Jones.” When climbing Snowdon he is keen in his praises of the endurance of “the gallant girl.” As against all this, there is an undercurrent of depreciation of his stepdaughter among Borrow’s biographers. The picture of Borrow’s home in later life at Oulton is presented by them with sordid details. The Oulton tradition which still survives among the few inhabitants who lived near the Broad at Borrow’s death in 1881, and still reside there, is of an ill-kept home, supremely untidy, and it is as a final indictment of his daughter’s callousness that we have the following gruesome picture by Dr. Knapp:

On the 26th of July 1881 Mr. Borrow was found dead in his house at
Oulton. The circumstances were these. His stepdaughter and her
husband drove to Lowestoft in the morning on some business of their
own, leaving Mr. Borrow without a living soul in the house with him.
He had earnestly requested them not to go away because he felt that
he was in a dying state; but the response intimated that he had often
expressed the same feeling before, and his fears had proved
groundless. During the interval of these few hours of abandonment
nothing can palliate or excuse, George Borrow died as he had
lived—_alone_! His age was seventy-eight years and twenty-one days.

Dr. Knapp no doubt believed all this; {256} it is endorsed by the village gossip of the past thirty years, and the mythical tragedy is even heightened by a further story of a farm tumbril which carried poor Borrow’s body to the railway station when it was being conveyed to London to be buried beside his wife in Brompton Cemetery.

The tumbril story—whether correct or otherwise—is a matter of indifference to me. The legend of the neglect of Borrow in his last moments is, however, of importance, and the charge can easily be disproved. I have before me Mrs. MacOubrey’s diary for 1881. I have many such diaries for a long period of years, but this for 1881 is of particular moment. Here, under the date July 26th, we find the brief note, _George Borrow died at three o’clock this morning_. It is scarcely possible that Borrow’s stepdaughter and her husband could have left him alone at three o’clock in the morning in order to drive into Lowestoft, less than two miles distant. At this time, be it remembered, Dr. MacOubrey was eighty-one years of age. Now, as to the general untidiness of Borrow’s home at the time of his death—the point is a distasteful one, but it had better be faced. Henrietta was nineteen years of age when her mother married Borrow. She was sixty-four at the time of his death, and her husband, as I have said, was eighty-one years of age at that time, being three years older than Borrow. Here we have three very elderly people keeping house together and little accustomed overmuch to the assistance of domestic servants. The situation at once becomes clear. Mrs. Borrow had a genius for housekeeping and for management. She watched over her husband, kept his accounts, held the family purse, managed all his affairs. She “managed” her daughter also, delighting in that daughter’s accomplishments of drawing and botany, to which may be added a zeal for the writing of stories which does not seem, judging from the many manuscripts in her handwriting that I have burnt, to have received much editorial encouragement. In short, Henrietta was not domesticated. But just as I have proved in preceding chapters that Borrow was happy in his married life, so I would urge that as far as a somewhat disappointed career would permit to the sadly bereaved author he was happy in his family circle to the end. It was at his initiative that, when he had returned to Oulton after the death of his wife, his daughter and her husband came to live with him. He declared that to live alone was no longer tolerable, and they gave up their own home in London to join him at Oulton.

A new glimpse of Borrow on his domestic side has been offered to the public even as this book is passing through the press. Mr. S. H. Baldrey, a Norwich solicitor, has given his reminiscences of the author of _Lavengro_ to the leading newspaper of that city. Mr. Baldrey is the stepson of the late John Pilgrim of the firm of Jay and Pilgrim, who were Borrow’s solicitors at Norwich in the later years of his life. One at least of Mr. Baldrey’s many reminiscences has in it an element of romance; that in which he recalls Mrs. Borrow and her daughter:

Mrs. Borrow always struck me as a dear old creature. When Borrow
married her she was a widow with one daughter, Henrietta Clarke. The
old lady used to dress in black silk. She had little silver-grey
corkscrew curls down the side of her face; and she wore a lace cap
with a mauve ribbon on top, quite in the Early Victorian style. I
remember that on one occasion when she and Miss Clarke had come to
Brunswick House they were talking with my mother in the temporary
absence of George Borrow, who, so far as I can recall, had gone into
another room to discuss business with John Pilgrim.

“Ah!” she said, “George is a good man, but he is a strange creature.
Do you know he will say to me after breakfast, ‘Mary, I am going for
a walk,’ and then I do not see anything more of him for three months.
And all the time he will be walking miles and miles. Once he went
right into Scotland, and never once slept in a house. He took not
even a handbag with him or a clean shirt, but lived just like any old
tramp.”

Mr. Baldrey is clearly in error here, or shall we say that Mrs. Borrow humorously exaggerated? We have seen that Borrow’s annual holiday was a matter of careful arrangement, and his knapsack or satchel is frequently referred to in his descriptions of his various tours. But the matter is of little importance, and Mr. Baldrey’s pictures of Borrow are excellent, including that of his personal appearance:

As I recall him, he was a fine, powerfully built man of about six
feet high. He had a clean-shaven face with a fresh complexion,
almost approaching to the florid, and never a wrinkle, even at sixty,
except at the corners of his dark and rather prominent eyes. He had
a shock of silvery white hair. He always wore a very badly brushed
silk hat, a black frock coat and trousers, the coat all buttoned down
before; low shoes and white socks, with a couple of inches of white
showing between the shoes and the trousers. He was a tireless
walker, with extraordinary powers of endurance, and was also very
handy with his fists, as in those days a gentleman required to be,
more than he does now.

Mr. John Pilgrim lived at Brunswick House, on the Newmarket Road, Norwich, and here Borrow frequently visited him. Mr. Baldrey recalls one particular visit:

I have a curious recollection of his dining one night at Brunswick
House. John Pilgrim, who was a careful, abstemious man, never took
more than two glasses of port at dinner. “John,” said Borrow, “this
is a good port. I prefer Burgundy if you can get it good; but, lord,
you cannot get it now.” It so happened that Mr. Pilgrim had some
fine old Clos-Vougeot in the cellar. “I think,” said he, “I can give
you a good drop of Burgundy.” A bottle was sent for, and Borrow
finished it, alone and unaided. “Well,” he remarked, “I think this
is a good Burgundy. But I’m not quite certain. I should like to try
a little more.” Another bottle was called up, and the guest finished
it to the last drop. “I am still,” he said, “not quite sure about
it, but I shall know in the morning.” The next morning Mr. Pilgrim
and I were leaving for the office, when Borrow came up the garden
path waving his arms like a windmill. “Oh, John,” he said, “that
_was_ Burgundy! When I woke up this morning it was coursing through
my veins like fire.” And yet Borrow was not a man to drink to
excess. I cannot imagine him being the worse for liquor. He had
wonderful health and digestion. Neither a gourmand nor a gourmet, he
could take down anything, and be none the worse for it. I don’t
think you could have made him drunk if you tried.

And here is a glimpse of Borrow after his wife’s death, for which we are grateful to Mr. Baldrey:

After the funeral of Mrs. Borrow he came to Norwich and took me over
to Oulton with him. He was silent all the way. When we got to the
little white wicket gate before the approach to the house he took off
his hat and began to beat his breast like an Oriental. He cried
aloud all the way up the path. He calmed himself, however, by the
time that Mr. Crabbe had opened the door and asked us in. Crabbe
brought in some wine, and we all sat down to table. I sat opposite
to Mrs. Crabbe; her husband was on my left hand. Borrow sat at one
end of the table, and the chair at the opposite end was left vacant.
We were talking in a casual way when Borrow, pointing to the empty
chair, said with profound emotion, “There! It was there that I first
saw her.” It was a curious coincidence that though there were four
of us we should have left that particular seat unoccupied at a little
table of about four feet square.

But this is a lengthy digression from the story of Henrietta Clarke, who married William MacOubrey, an Irishman—and an Orangeman—from Belfast in 1865. The pair lived first in Belfast and afterwards at 80 Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. Before his marriage he had practised at 134 Sloane Street, London. MacOubrey, although there had been some doubt cast upon the statement, was a Doctor of Medicine of Trinity College, Dublin, and a Barrister-at-Law. Within his limitations he was an accomplished man, and before me lie not only documentary evidence of his M.D. and his legal status, but several printed pamphlets that bear his name. What is of more importance, the many letters from and to his wife that have passed through my hands and have been consigned to the flames prove that husband and wife lived on most affectionate terms.

It is natural that Borrow’s correspondence with his stepdaughter should have been of a somewhat private character, and I therefore publish only a selection from his letters to her, believing however that they will modify an existing tradition very considerably:

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

DEAR HENRIETTA,—Have you heard from the gentleman whom you said you
would write to about the farm? Mr. C. came over the other day and I
mentioned the matter to him, but he told me that he was on the eve of
going to London on law business and should be absent for some time.
His son is in Cambridge. I am afraid that it will be no easy matter
to find a desirable tenant and that none are likely to apply but a
set of needy speculators; indeed, there is a general dearth of money.
How is Dr. M.? God bless you!

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

DEAR HENRIETTA,—I have received some of the rent and send a cheque
for eight pounds. Have the kindness to acknowledge the receipt of
same by return of post. As soon as you arrive in London, let me
know, and I will send a cheque for ten pounds, which I believe will
pay your interest up to Midsummer. If there is anything incorrect
pray inform me. God bless you. Kind regards to Miss Harvey.

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

DEAR HENRIETTA,—As soon as Smith has paid his Michaelmas rent I will
settle your interest up to Midsummer. Twenty-one pounds was, I
think, then due to you, as you received five pounds on the account of
the present year. If, however, you are in want of money let me know
forthwith, and I will send you a small cheque. The document which I
mentioned has been witnessed by Mrs. Church and her daughter. It is
in one of the little tin boxes on the lower shelf of the closet
nearest to the window in my bedroom. I was over at Mattishall some
weeks ago. Things there look very unsatisfactory. H. and his mother
now owe me £20 or more. The other man a year’s rent for a cottage
and garden, and two years’ rent for the gardens of two cottages
unoccupied. I am just returned from Norwich where I have been to
speak to F. I have been again pestered by Pilgrim’s successor about
the insurance of the property. He pretends to have insured again. A
more impudent thing was probably never heard of. He is no agent of
mine, and I will have no communication with him. I have insured
myself in the Union Office, and have lately received my second
policy. I have now paid upwards of twelve pounds for policies. F.
says that he told him months ago that the demand he made would not be
allowed, that I insured myself and was my own agent, and that as he
shall see him in a few days he will tell him so again. Oh what a
source of trouble that wretched fellow Pilgrim has been both to you
and me.

I wish very much to come up to London. But I cannot leave the
country under present circumstances. There is not a person in these
parts in whom I can place the slightest confidence. I must inform
you that at our interview F. said not a word about the matter in
Chancery. God bless you. Kind remembrances to Dr. M.

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

DEAR HENRIETTA,—I wish to know how you are. I shall shortly send a
cheque for thirteen pounds, which I believe will settle the interest
account up to Michaelmas. If you see anything inaccurate pray inform
me. I am at present tolerably well, but of late have been very much
troubled with respect to my people. Since I saw you I have been
three times over to Mattishall, but with very little profit. The
last time I was there I got the key of the house from that fellow
Hill, and let the place to another person who I am told is not much
better. One comfort is that he cannot be worse. But now there is a
difficulty. Hill refuses to yield up the land, and has put padlocks
on the gates. These I suppose can be removed as he is not in
possession of the key of the house. On this point, however, I wish
to be certain. As for the house, he and his mother, who is in a kind
of partnership with him, have abandoned it for two years, the
consequence being that the windows are dashed out, and the place
little better than a ruin. During the four years he has occupied the
land he has been cropping it, and the crops have invariably been sold
before being reaped, and as soon as reaped carried off. During the
last two years there has not been a single live thing kept on the
premises, not so much as a hen. He now says that there are some
things in the house belonging to him. Anything, however, which he
has left is of course mine, though I don’t believe that what he has
left is worth sixpence. I have told the incoming tenant to deliver
up nothing, and not permit him to enter the house on any account. He
owes me ten or twelve pounds, arrears of rent, and at least fifteen
for dilapidations. I think the fellow ought to be threatened with an
action, but I know not whom to employ. I don’t wish to apply to F.
Perhaps Dr. M.’s London friend might be spoken to. I believe Hill’s
address is Alfred Hill, Mattishall, Norfolk, but the place which he
occupied of me is at Mattishall Burgh. I shall be glad to hear from
you as soon as is convenient. I have anything but reason to be
satisfied with the conduct of S. He is cropping the ground most
unmercifully, and is sending sacks of game off the premises every
week. Surely he must be mad, as he knows I can turn him out next
Michaelmas. God bless you. Kind regards to Dr. M. Take care of
this.

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

DEAR HENRIETTA,—I was glad to hear that you had obtained your
dividend. I was afraid that you would never get it. I shall be
happy to see you and Dr. M. about the end of the month. Michaelmas
is near at hand, when your half-year’s interest becomes due. God
bless you. Kind remembrances to Dr. M.

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

OULTON, LOWESTOFT, _November_ 29_th_, 1874.

DEAR HENRIETTA,—I send a cheque for £15, which will settle the
interest account up to Michaelmas last. On receipt of this have the
kindness to send me a line. I have been to Norwich, and now know all
about your affair. I saw Mr. Durrant, who, it seems, is the real
head of the firm to which I go. He received me in the kindest
manner, and said he was very glad to see me. I inquired about J.P.’s
affairs. He appeared at first not desirous to speak about them, but
presently became very communicative. I inquired who had put the
matter into Chancery, and he told me he himself, which I was very
glad to hear. I asked whether the mortgagees would get their money,
and he replied that he had no doubt they eventually would, as far as
principal was concerned. I spoke about interest, but on that point
he gave me slight hopes. He said that the matter, if not hurried,
would turn out tolerably satisfactory, but if it were, very little
would be obtained. It appears that the unhappy creature who is gone
had been dabbling in post obit bonds, at present almost valueless,
but likely to become available. He was in great want of money
shortly before he died. Now, dear, pray keep up your spirits; I hope
and trust we shall meet about Christmas. Kind regards to Dr. M.

GEORGE BORROW.

Keep this. Send a line by return of post.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

DEAR HENRIETTA,—I thought I would write to you as it seems a long
time since I heard from you. I have been on my expedition and have
come back safe. I had a horrible time of it on the sea—small dirty
boat crowded with people and rough weather. Poor Mr. Brightwell is I
am sorry to say dead—died in January. I saw Mr. J. and P. and had a
good deal of conversation with them which I will talk to you about
when I see you. Mr. P. sent an officer over to M. I went to Oulton,
and as soon as I got there I found one of the farm cottages nearly in
ruins; the gable had fallen down—more expense! but I said that some
willow trees must be cut down to cover it. The place upon the whole
looks very beautiful. C. full of complaints, though I believe he has
a fine time of it. He and T. are at daggers drawn. I am sorry to
tell you that poor Mr. Leathes is dying—called, but could not see
him, but he sent down a kind message to me. The family, however,
were rejoiced to see me and wanted me to stay. The scoundrel of a
shoemaker did not send the shoes. I thought he would not. The
shirt-collars were much too small. I, however, managed to put on the
shirts and am glad of them. At Norwich I saw Lucy, who appears to be
in good spirits. Many people have suffered dreadfully there from the
failure of the Bank—her brother, amongst others, has been let in. I
shall have much to tell you when I see you. I am glad the Prussians
are getting on so famously. The Pope it seems has written a letter
to the King of Prussia and is asking favours of him. A low old
fellow!!! Remember me kindly to Miss H., and may God bless you!
Bring this back.

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

_March_ 6, 1873.

DEAR HENRIETTA,—I was so grieved to hear that you were unwell. Pray
take care of yourself, and do not go out in this dreadful weather.
Send and get, on my account, six bottles of good port wine. Good
port may be had at the cellar at the corner of Charles Street,
opposite the Hospital near Hereford Square—I think the name of the
man is Kitchenham. Were I in London I would bring it myself. Do
send for it. May God Almighty bless you!

GEORGE BORROW.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

NORWICH, _July_ 12, 1873.

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.

* * * * *

To MRS. MACOUBREY, 50 CHARLOTTE STREET, FITZROY SQUARE, LONDON

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.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY, 50 CHARLOTTE STREET, FITZROY SQUARE, LONDON

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.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

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.

* * * * *

TO MRS. MACOUBREY, 50 CHARLOTTE STREET, FITZROY SQUARE, LONDON

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:

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

BURY ST. EDMUNDS, _August_ 13_th_.

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:

TO MRS. MACOUBREY

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._ 3_rd_, 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.