BORROW'S SPANISH CIRCLE
There are many interesting personalities that pass before us in Borrow's
three separate narratives,[125] as they may be considered, of his
Spanish experiences. We would fain know more concerning the two
excellent secretaries of the Bible Society--Samuel Brandram and Joseph
Jowett. We merely know that the former was rector of Beckenham and was
one of the Society's secretaries until his death in 1850;[126] that the
latter was rector of Silk Willoughby in Lincolnshire, and belonged to
the same family as Jowett of Balliol. But there are many quaint
characters in Borrow's own narrative to whom we are introduced. There is
Maria Diaz, for example, his landlady in the house in the Calle de
Santiago in Madrid, and her husband, Juan Lopez, also assisted Borrow in
his Bible distribution. Very eloquent are Borrow's tributes to the pair
in the pages of _The Bible in Spain_. 'Honour to Maria Diaz, the quiet,
dauntless, clever, Castilian female! I were an ungrate not to speak well
of her,' We get a glimpse of Maria and her husband long years afterwards
when a pensioner in a Spanish almshouse revealed himself as the son of
Borrow's friends. Eduardo Lopez was only eight years of age when Borrow
was in Madrid, and he really adds nothing to our knowledge.[127] Then
there were those two incorrigible vagabonds--Antonio Buchini, his Greek
servant with an Italian name, and Benedict Mol, the Swiss of Lucerne,
who turns up in all sorts of improbable circumstances as the seeker of
treasure in the Church of St. James of Compostella--only a masterly
imagination could have made him so interesting. Concerning these there
is nothing to supplement Borrow's own story. But we have attractive
glimpses of Borrow in the frequently quoted narrative of Colonel
Napier,[128] and this is so illuminating that I venture to reproduce it
at greater length than previous biographers have done. Edward Elers
Napier, who was born in 1808, was the son of one Edward Elers of the
Royal Navy. His widow married the famous Admiral Sir Charles Napier, who
adopted her four children by her first husband. Edward Elers, the
younger, or Edward Napier, as he came to be called, was educated at
Sandhurst and entered the army, serving for some years in India. Later
his regiment was ordered to Gibraltar, and it was thence that he made
several sporting excursions into Spain and Morocco. Later he served in
Egypt, and when, through ill-health, he retired in 1843 on half-pay, he
lived for some years in Portugal. In 1854 he returned to the army and
did good work in the Crimea, becoming a lieutenant-general in 1864. He
died in 1870. He wrote, in addition to these _Excursions_, several
other books, including _Scenes and Sports in Foreign Lands_.[129] It was
during his military career at Gibraltar that he met George Borrow at
Seville, as the following extracts from his book testify. Borrow's
pretension to have visited the East is characteristic--and amusing:--
1839. _Saturday 4th_.--Out early, sketching at the Alcazar.
After breakfast it set in a day of rain, and I was reduced to
wander about the galleries overlooking the 'patio.' Nothing so
dreary and out of character as a rainy day in Spain. Whilst
occupied in moralising over the dripping water-spouts, I
observed a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, dressed in a
zamarra,[130] leaning over the balustrades, and apparently
engaged in a similar manner with myself. Community of thoughts
and occupation generally tends to bring people together. From
the stranger's complexion, which was fair, but with brilliant
black eyes, I concluded he was not a Spaniard; in short, there
was something so remarkable in his appearance that it was
difficult to say to what nation he might belong. He was tall,
with a commanding appearance; yet, though apparently in the
flower of manhood, his hair was so deeply tinged with the
winter of either age or sorrow as to be nearly snow-white.
Under these circumstances, I was rather puzzled as to what
language I should address him in. At last, putting a bold face
on the matter, I approached him with a 'Bonjour, monsieur, quel
triste temps!'
'Yes, sir,' replied he in the purest Parisian accent; 'and it
is very unusual weather here at this time of the year.'
'Does "monsieur" intend to be any time at Seville?' asked I. He
replied in the affirmative. We were soon on a friendly footing,
and from his varied information I was both amused and
instructed. Still I became more than ever in the dark as to his
nationality; I found he could speak English as fluently as
French. I tried him on the Italian track; again he was
perfectly at home.
He had a Greek servant, to whom his gave his orders in Romaïc.
He conversed in good Castilian with 'mine host'; exchanged a
German salutation with an Austrian Baron, at the time an inmate
of the fonda; and on mentioning to him my morning visit to
Triano, which led to some remarks on the gypsies, and the
probable place from whence they derived their origin, he
expressed his belief that it was from Moultan, and said that,
even to this day, they retained many Moultanee and Hindoostanee
expressions, such as 'pánee' (water), 'buree pánee'[131] (the
sea), etc. He was rather startled when I replied 'in Hindee,'
but was delighted on finding I was an Indian, and entered
freely, and with depth and acuteness, on the affairs of the
East, most of which part of the world he had visited.
In such varied discourse did the hours pass so swiftly away
that we were not a little surprised when Pépé, the 'mozo' (and
I verily believe all Spanish waiters are called Pépé),
announced the hour of dinner; after which we took a long walk
together on the banks of the river. But, on our return, I was
as much as ever in ignorance as to who might be my new and
pleasant acquaintance.
I took the first opportunity of questioning Antonio Baillie
(Buchini) on the subject, and his answer only tended to
increase my curiosity. He said that nobody knew what nation the
mysterious 'Unknown' belonged to, nor what were his motives for
travelling. In his passport he went by the name of ----, and as
a British subject, but in consequence of a suspicion being
entertained that he was a Russian spy, the police kept a sharp
look-out over him. Spy or no spy, I found him a very agreeable
companion; and it was agreed that on the following day we
should visit together the ruins of Italica.
_May 5._--After breakfast, the 'Unknown' and myself, mounting
our horses, proceeded on our expedition to the ruins of
Italica. Crossing the river, and proceeding through the
populous suburb of Triano, already mentioned, we went over the
same extensive plain that I had traversed in going to San
Lucar, but keeping a little more to the right a short ride
brought us in sight of the Convent of San Isidrio, surrounded
by tall cypress and waving date-trees. This once richly-endowed
religious establishment is, together with the small
neighbouring village of Santi Ponci, I believe, the property of
the Duke of Medina Coeli, at whose expense the excavations are
now carried on at the latter place, which is the ancient site
of the Roman Italica.
We sat down on a fragment of the walls, and sadly recalling the
splendour of those times of yore, contrasted with the
desolation around us, the 'Unknown' began to feel the vein of
poetry creeping through his inward soul, and gave vent to it by
reciting, with great emphasis and effect, and to the
astonishment of the wondering peasant, who must have thought
him 'loco,' the following well-known and beautiful lines:--
'Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower, grown,
Matted and massed together, hillocks heap'd
On what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown
In fragments, choked up vaults, and frescoes steep'd
In subterranean damps, where the owl peep'd,
Deeming it midnight; Temples, baths, or halls--
Pronounce who can: for all that Learning reap'd
From her research hath been, that these are walls.'
I had been too much taken up with the scene, the verses, and
the strange being who was repeating them with so much feeling,
to notice the approach of one who now formed the fourth person
of our party. This was a slight female figure, beautiful in the
extreme, but whom tattered garments, raven hair (which fell in
matted elf-locks over her naked shoulders), swarthy complexion,
and flashing eyes, proclaimed to be of the wandering tribe of
'gitános.' From an intuitive sense of natural politeness she
stood with crossed arms, and a slight smile on her dark and
handsome countenance, until my companion had ceased, and then
addressed us in the usual whining tone of supplication, with
'Caballeritos, una limosita! Dios se lo pagara a ustedes!'
('Gentlemen, a little charity! God will repay it to you!') The
gypsy girl was so pretty, and her voice so sweet, that I
involuntarily put my hand in my pocket.
'Stop!' said the 'Unknown.' 'Do you remember what I told you
about the Eastern origin of these people? You shall see I am
correct. Come here, my pretty child,' said he in Moultanee,
'and tell me where are the rest of your tribe?'
The girl looked astounded, replied in the same tongue, but in
broken language; when, taking him by the arm, she said, in
Spanish: 'Come, caballero; come to one who will be able to
answer you;' and she led the way down amongst the ruins towards
one of the dens formerly occupied by the wild beasts, and
disclosed to us a set of beings scarcely less savage. The
sombre walls of this gloomy abode were illumined by a fire, the
smoke from which escaped through a deep fissure in the massy
roof; whilst the flickering flames threw a blood-red glare on
the bronzed features of a group of children, of two men, and a
decrepit old hag, who appeared busily engaged in some culinary
preparations.
On our entrance, the scowling glance of the males of the party,
and a quick motion of the hand towards the folds of the
'faja,'[132] caused in _me_, at least, anything but a
comfortable sensation; but their hostile intentions, if ever
entertained, were immediately removed by a wave of the hand
from our conductress, who, leading my companion towards the
sibyl, whispered something in her ear. The old crone appeared
incredulous. The 'Unknown' uttered one word; but that word had
the effect of magic; she prostrated herself at his feet, and in
an instant, from an object of suspicion he became one of
worship to the whole family, to whom, on taking leave, he made
a handsome present, and departed with their united blessings,
to the astonishment of myself, and what looked very like terror
in our Spanish guide.
I was, as the phrase goes, dying with curiosity, and, as soon
as we mounted our horses, exclaimed, 'Where, in the name of
goodness, did you pick up your acquaintance and the language of
these extraordinary people?' 'Some years ago, in Moultan,' he
replied. 'And by what means do you possess such apparent
influence over them?' But the 'Unknown' had already said more
than he perhaps wished on the subject. He drily replied that he
had more than once owed his life to gipsies, and had reason to
know them well; but this was said in a tone which precluded all
further queries on my part. The subject was never again
broached, and we returned in silence to the fonda....
_May 7th._--Pouring with rain all day, during which I was
mostly in the society of the 'Unknown.' This is a most
extraordinary character, and the more I see of him the more I
am puzzled. He appears acquainted with everybody and
everything, but apparently unknown to every one himself. Though
his figure bespeaks youth--and by his own account his age does
not exceed thirty--yet the snows of eighty winters could not
have whitened his locks more completely than they are. But in
his dark and searching eye there is an almost supernatural
penetration and lustre, which, were I inclined to superstition,
might induce me to set down its possessor as a second Melmoth;
and in that character he often appears to me during the
troubled rest I sometimes obtain through the medium of the
great soother, 'laudanum.'
The next most interesting figure in the Borrow gallery of this period is
Don Luis de Usóz y Rio, who was a good friend to Borrow during the whole
of his sojourn in Spain. It was he who translated Borrow's appeal to the
Spanish Prime Minister to be permitted to distribute Scio's New
Testament. He watched over Borrow with brotherly solicitude, and wrote
him more than one excellent letter, of which the two following from my
Borrow Papers, the last written at the close of the Spanish period, are
the most interesting:
To Mr. George Borrow
(_Translated from the Spanish_)
PIAZZA DI SPAGNA 17, ROME, _7 April 1838._
DEAR FRIEND,--I received your letter, and thank you for the
same. I know the works under the name of 'Boz,' about which you
write, and also the _Memoirs of the Pickwick Club_, and
although they seemed to me good, I have failed to appreciate
properly their qualities, because much of the dramatic style
and dialogue in the same are very difficult for those who know
English merely from books. I made here a better acquaintance
than that of Mezzofanti (who knows nothing), namely, that of
Prof. Michel-Angelo Lanci, already well-known on account of his
work, _La sacra scrittura illustrata con monumenti
fenico-assiri ed egiziani_, etc., etc. (The Scriptures,
illustrated with Ph[oe]nician-Assyrian and Egyptian monuments),
which I am reading at present, and find very profound and
interesting, and more particularly very original. He has
written and presented me a book, _Esposizione dei versetti del
Giobbe intorno al cavallo_ (Explanation of verses of Job about
a horse), and in these and other works he proves himself to be
a great philologist and Oriental scholar. I meet him almost
daily, and I assure you that he seems to me to know everything
he treats thoroughly, and not like Gayangos or Calderon, etc.,
etc. His philosophic works have created a great stir here, and
they do not please much the friars here; but as here they are
not like the police barbarians there, they do not forbid it, as
they cannot. Lanci is well known in Russia and in Germany, and
when I bring his works there, and you are there and have not
read them, you will read them and judge for yourself.
Wishing you well, and always at your service, I remain, always
yours,
LUIS DE USÓZ Y RIO.
To Mr. George Borrow
(_Translated from the Spanish_)
NAPLES, _28 August 1839._
DEAR FRIEND,--I received your letter of the 28 July written
from Sevilla, and I am waiting for that which you promise me
from Tangier.
I am glad that you liked Sevilla, and I am still more glad of
the successful shipment of the beloved book. In distributing
it, you are rendering the greatest service that generous
foreigners (I mean Englishmen) can render to the real freedom
and enlightenment in Spain, and any Spaniard who is at heart a
gentleman must be grateful for this service to the Society and
to its agent. In my opinion, if Spain had maintained the
customs, character, and opinions that it had three centuries
ago, it ought to have maintained also unity in religious
opinions: but that at present the circumstances have changed,
and the moral character and the advancement of my unfortunate
country would not lose anything in its purification and
progress by (the grant of) religious liberty.
You are saying that I acted very light-mindedly in judging
Mezzofanti without speaking to him. You know that the other
time when I was in Italy I had dealings and spoke with him, and
that I said to you that he had a great facility for speaking
languages, but that otherwise he was no good. Because I have
seen him several times in the Papal chapels with a certain air
of an ass and certain grimaces of a blockhead that cannot
happen to a man of talent. I am told, moreover, that he is a
spy, and that for that reason he was given the hat. I know,
moreover, that he has not written anything at all. For that
reason I do not wish to take the trouble of seeing him.
As regards Lanci, I am not saying anything except that I am
waiting until you have read his work without passion, and that
if my books have arrived at Madrid, you can ask my brother in
Santiago.
You are judging of him and of Pahlin in the way you reproach me
with judging Mezzofanti; I thank you, and I wish for the
dedication Gabricote; and I also wish for your return to
Madrid, so that in going to Toledo you would get a copy of
Aristophanes with the order that will be given to you by my
brother, who has got it.
If for the Gabricote or other work you require my clumsy pen,
write to Florence and send me a rough copy of what is to be
done, in English or in Spanish, and I will supply the finished
work. From Florence I intend to go to London, and I should be
obliged if you would give me letters and instructions that
would be of use to me in literary matters, but you must know
that my want of knowledge of _speaking_ English makes it
necessary that the Englishmen who speak to me should know
Spanish, French, or Italian.
As regards robberies, of which you accuse Southern people, from
the literatures of the North, do you think that the robberies
committed by the Northerners from the Southern literature would
be left behind? Erunt vitia donec homines.--Always yours,
ELEUTHEROS.
Yet another acquaintance of these Spanish days was Baron Taylor--Isidore
Justin Séverin Taylor, to give him his full name--who had a career of
wandering achievement, with Government pay, that must have appealed to
Borrow. Although his father was an Englishman he became a naturalised
Frenchman, and he was for a time in the service of the French Government
as Director of the Théâtre Français, when he had no little share in the
production of the dramas of Victor Hugo and Dumas. Later he was
instrumental in bringing the Luxor obelisk from Egypt to Paris. He wrote
books upon his travels in Spain, Portugal and Morocco.[133] He wandered
all over Europe in search of art treasures for the French Government,
and may very well have met Borrow again and again. Borrow tells us that
he had met Taylor in France, in Russia, and in Ireland, before he met
him in Andalusia, collecting pictures for the French Government.
Borrow's description of their meetings is inimitable:--
Whenever he descries me, whether in the street or the desert,
the brilliant hall or amongst Bedouin _haimas_, at Novogorod or
Stambul, he flings up his arms and exclaims, "_O ciel_! I have
again the felicity of seeing my cherished and most respectable
Borrow."[134]
[Illustration: A LETTER FROM SIR GEORGE VILLIERS, AFTERWARDS EARL OF
CLARENDON, BRITISH MINISTER TO SPAIN, TO GEORGE BORROW]
The last and most distinguished of Borrow's colleagues while in Spain
was George Villiers, fourth Earl of Clarendon, whom we judge to have
been in private life one of the most lovable men of his epoch. George
Villiers was born in London in 1800, and was the grandson of the first
Earl, Thomas Villiers, who received his title when holding office in
Lord North's administration, but is best known from his association in
diplomacy with Frederick the Great. His grandson was born, as it were,
into diplomacy, and at twenty years of age was an _attaché_ to the
British Embassy in St. Petersburg. Later he was associated with Sir John
Bowring in negotiating a commercial treaty with France. In August 1833
he was sent as British Minister--'envoy extraordinary' he was called--to
Madrid, and he had been two years in that seething-pot of Spanish
affairs, with Christinos and Carlists at one another's throats, when
Borrow arrived in the Peninsula. His influence was the greater with a
succession of Spanish Prime Ministers in that in 1838 he had been
largely instrumental in negotiating the quadruple alliance between
England, France, Spain, and Portugal. In March 1839--exactly a year
before Borrow took his departure--he resigned his position at Madrid,
having then for some months exchanged the title of Sir George Villiers
for that of Earl of Clarendon through the death of his uncle;[135]
Borrow thereafter having to launch his various complaints and grievances
at his successor, Mr.--afterwards Sir George--Jerningham, who, it has
been noted, had his home in Norfolk, at Costessey, four miles from
Norwich. Villiers returned to England with a great reputation, although
his Spanish policy was attacked in the House of Lords. In that same
year, 1839, he joined Lord Melbourne's administration as Lord Privy
Seal, O'Connell at the time declaring that he ought to be made
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, so sympathetic was he towards concession and
conciliation in that then feverishly excited country. This office
actually came to him in 1847, and he was Lord-Lieutenant through that
dark period of Ireland's history, including the Famine, the Young
Ireland rebellion, and the Smith O'Brien rising. He pleased no one in
Ireland. No English statesman could ever have done so under such ideals
of government as England would have tolerated then, and for long years
afterwards. The Whigs defended him, the Tories abused him, in their
respective organs. He left Ireland in 1852 and was more than once
mentioned as possible Prime Minister in the ensuing years. He was
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in Lord Aberdeen's Administration
during the Crimean War, and he held the same office under Lord
Palmerston, again under Earl Russell in 1865, and under Mr. Gladstone in
1868. He might easily have become Prime Minister. Greville in his
_Diary_ writes of Prince Albert's desire that he should succeed Lord
John Russell, but Clarendon said that no power on earth would make him
take that position. He said he could not speak, and had not had
parliamentary experience enough. He died in 1870, leaving a reputation
as a skilful diplomatist and a disinterested politician, if not that of
a great statesman. He had twice refused the Governor-Generalship of
India, and three times a marquisate.
Sir George Villiers seems to have been very courteous to Borrow during
the whole of the time they were together in Spain. It would have been
easy for him to have been quite otherwise. Borrow's Bible mission
synchronised with a very delicate diplomatic mission of his own, and in
a measure clashed with it. The government of Spain was at the time
fighting the ultra-clericals. Physical and moral strife were rife in the
land. Neither Royalists nor Carlists could be expected to sympathise
with Borrow's schemes, which were fundamentally to attack their church.
But Villiers was at all times friendly, and, as far as he could be,
helpful. Borrow seems to have had ready access to him, and he answered
his many letters. He gave Borrow an opportunity of an interview with the
formidable Prime Minister Mendizábal, and he interviewed another
minister and persuaded him to permit Borrow to print and circulate his
Bibles. He intervened successfully to release Borrow from his Madrid
prison. But Villiers could not have had any sympathy with Borrow other
than as a British subject to be protected on the Roman citizen
principle. We do not suppose that when _The Bible in Spain_ appeared he
was one of those who were captivated by its extraordinary qualities.
When Borrow crossed his path in later life he received no special
consideration, such as would be given very promptly in our day by a
Cabinet minister to a man of letters of like distinction. We find him on
one occasion writing to the ex-minister, now Lord Clarendon, asking his
help for a consulship. Clarendon replied kindly enough, but sheltered
himself behind the statement that the Prime Minister was overwhelmed
with applications for patronage. Yet Clarendon, who held many high
offices in the following years, might have helped if he had cared to do
so. Some years later--in 1847--there was further correspondence when
Borrow desired to become a Magistrate of Suffolk. Here again Clarendon
wrote three courteous letters, and appears to have done his best in an
unenthusiastic way. But nothing came of it all.
FOOTNOTES:
[125] The accounts in _The Bible in Spain_, _The Gypsies of Spain_, and
the _Letters to the Bible Society_.
[126] The only 'Samuel Brandram' in the _Dictionary of National
Biography_ is a reciter who died in 1892; he certainly had less claim to
the distinction than his namesake.
[127] See 'Footprints of George Borrow' by A. G. Jayne in _The Bible in
the World_ for July 1908.
[128] _Excursions along the Shores of the Mediterranean_, by
Lieut.-Colonel E. Napier, vol. ii (Henry Colburn), 1842.
[129] See _Dictionary of National Biography_, vol. xl. pp. 54-55.
[130] A sheepskin jacket with the wool outside, a costume much worn here
in cold weather.
[131] 'pánee' is masculine (marginal note in pencil).
[132] In the folds of the sash is concealed the 'navaja,' or formidable
clasp-knife, always worn by the Spaniard.
[133] His principal work was _Voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans
l'ancienne France_.
[134] _The Bible in Spain_, ch. xv.
[135] Many interesting letters from Villiers will be found in _Memoirs
and Memories_, by his niece, Mrs. C. W. Earle, 1911.