Borrow's real literary career had begun with the translation of "Faustus" (1825), a rather lurid German work by F. von Klinger, one of whose plays, _Sturm und Drang_, gave the name to a whole period of German literature. The book was received very unfavourably, but Borrow meant having his Danish Ballads published, and in 1826 they were issued by S. Wilkin, Upper Haymarket, Norwich, in an edition of five hundred copies, of which two hundred were reserved for Norwich and sold at half a guinea each copy; the rest went to London. Allan Cunningham wrote a very eulogistic metrical dedication. The subscription list reveals a very varied list of subscribers, including Bishop Bathurst, Benjamin Haydon, Thomas Campbell, and John Thurtell, who was hanged before the book appeared. Borrow's biographers generally treat these ballads with scarcely veiled contempt, though Lockhart, whose brilliant renderings of Spanish ballads are unsurpassed, wrote of his complete skill in the Scandinavian languages, and his "copious body of translations from their popular minstrelsies, not at all to be confounded with that of certain versifiers. . . . His Norse ditties have the unforgeable stamp of authenticity on every line." W. Bodham Donne, a well-known critic, even went so far as to rank them above Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient Rome." A fine facsimile edition of Borrow's "Romantic Ballads" was brought out by Messrs. Jarrold in the early part of this year. A rupture with Phillips, almost inevitable, set Borrow wandering, and very soon he became acquainted with the old fruit-woman who found a valid defence for theft in the history of "the blessed Mary Flanders," a dog's-eared volume of "Moll Flanders," wherein Borrow found "the air, the style, the spirit of the writer of the book" which first taught him to read--Defoe, of course. This classic is "supreme as a realistic picture of low life in the large." A quite different figure appears in the person of Francis Arden, a handsome young Irishman with whom Borrow became acquainted in the coffee-room of an hotel, and with him obtained some knowledge of "the strange and eccentric places of London." When Arden burst out laughing one day Borrow said he would, perhaps, have joined if it were ever his wont to laugh, and his friends said that, though he enjoyed a joke, he did not seem to have the power of laughing. But in Borrow we expect contrarieties, so we find him saying that when he detected a man poking fun at him in Welsh he flung back his head, closed his eyes, and laughed aloud; and later on, walking in Wales with the rain at his back, he flung his umbrella over his shoulder and laughed. "Oh, how a man laughs who has a good umbrella when he has the rain at his back" ("Wild Wales," pp. 301, 470).