Another of "the harum-scarum young men" taken up by Taylor and introduced "into the best society the place afforded," writes Harriet Martineau, was Polidori. Borrow was introduced to Taylor in 1820 by "Mousha," the Jew who taught him Hebrew. Taylor "took a great interest" in him and taught him German. "What I tell Borrow _once_," he said, "he ever remembers." In 1821 Taylor wrote to Southey, who was an early friend: "A Norwich young man is construing with me Schiller's 'Wilhelm Tell,' with the view of translating it for the Press. His name is George Henry Borrow, and he has learnt German with extraordinary rapidity; indeed he has the gift of tongues, and, though not yet eighteen, understands twelve languages--English, Welsh, Erse, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, German, Danish, French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese; he would like to get into the Office for Foreign Affairs, but does not know how." Borrow was at that time a "reserved and solitary" youth, tall, spare, dark complexioned and usually dressed in black, who used to be seen hanging about the Close and talking through the railings of his garden to some of the Grammar School boys. He was a noticeable youth, and he told his father that a lady had painted him and compared his face to that of Alfieri's Saul. {picture: Tuck's Court, Norwich. Photo: Jarrold & Sons, Norwich: page70.jpg} Borrow pleased neither his master nor his father by his knowledge of languages, though it was largely acquired in the lawyer's office. "The lad is too independent by half," Borrow makes his father say, after painting a filial portrait of the old man, "with locks of silver gray which set off so nobly his fine bold but benevolent face, his faithful consort at his side, and his trusty dog at his feet." Nor did the youth please himself. He was languid again, tired even of the Welsh poet, Ab Gwilym. He was anxious about his father, who was low spirited over his elder son's absence in London as a painter, and over his younger son's misconduct and the "strange notions and doctrines"--especially the doctrine that everyone has a right to dispose as he thinks best of that which is his own, even of his life--which he had imbibed from Taylor. Taylor was "fond of getting hold of young men and, according to orthodox accounts, doing them a deal of harm." {71a} His views, says Dr. Knapp, sank deep "into the organism of his pupil," and "would only be eradicated, if at all, through much suffering." Dr. Knapp thought that the execution of Thurtell ought to have produced a "favourable change in his mode of thinking"--as if prize fighting and murder were not far more common among Christians than atheists. But if Borrow had never met Taylor he would have met someone else, atheist or religious enthusiast, who would have lured him from the straight, smooth, flowery path of orthodoxy; otherwise he might have been a clergyman or he might have been Dr. Knapp, but he would not have been George Borrow. "What is truth?" he asked.