r next chapter. Borrow found
Phillips most exacting, always suggesting the names of new criminals,
and leaving it to the much sweated author to find the books from which
to extract the necessary material:

In the compilation of my Lives and Trials I was exposed to
incredible mortification, and ceaseless trouble, from this same
rage for interference.... This was not all; when about a moiety
of the first volume had been printed, he materially altered the
plan of the work; it was no longer to be a collection of mere
Newgate lives and trials, but of lives and trials of criminals
in general, foreign as well as domestic.... 'Where is Brandt
and Struensee?' cried the publisher. 'I am sure I don't know,'
I replied; whereupon the publisher falls to squealing like one
of Joey's rats. 'Find me up Brandt and Struensee by next
morning, or--' 'Have you found Brandt and Struensee?' cried the
publisher, on my appearing before him next morning. 'No,' I
reply, 'I can hear nothing about them'; whereupon the publisher
falls to bellowing like Joey's bull. By dint of incredible
diligence, I at length discover the dingy volume containing the
lives and trials of the celebrated two who had brooded treason
dangerous to the state of Denmark. I purchase the dingy volume,
and bring it in triumph to the publisher, the perspiration
running down my brow. The publisher takes the dingy volume in
his hand, he examines it attentively, then puts it down; his
countenance is calm for a moment, almost benign. Another moment
and there is a gleam in the publisher's sinister eye; he
snatches up the paper containing the names of the worthies
which I have intended shall figure in the forthcoming
volumes--he glances rapidly over it, and his countenance once
more assumes a terrific expression. 'How is this?' he exclaims;
'I can scarcely believe my eyes--the most important life and
trial omitted to be found in the whole criminal record--what
gross, what utter negligence! Where's the life of Farmer Patch?
where's the trial of Yeoman Patch?'

'What a life! what a dog's life!' I would frequently exclaim,
after escaping from the presence of the publisher.[59]

Then came the final catastrophe. Borrow could not translate Phillips's
great masterpiece, _Twelve Essays on the Proximate Causes_, into German
with any