AUGUST 1833–JANUARY 1834
ON 19th/31st July 1833 Borrow set out on a journey that was to some
extent to realise his ambitions. He was to be trusted and encouraged
and, what was most important of all, praised for what he accomplished;
for Borrow’s was a nature that responded best to the praise and entire
confidence of those for whom he worked.
Travelling second class for reasons of economy, he landed at Hamburg at
seven in the morning of the fourth day, after having experienced “a
disagreeable passage of three days, in which I suffered much from
sea-sickness.” {107a} Exhausted by these days of suffering and want of
sleep, the heat of the sun brought on “a transient fit of delirium,”
{107b} in other words, an attack of the “Horrors.” Two fellow-passengers
(Jews), with whom he had become acquainted, conveyed him to a comfortable
hotel, where he was visited by a physician, who administered forty drops
of laudanum, caused his head to be swathed in wet towels, ordered him to
bed, and charged a fee of seven shillings. The result was that by the
evening he had quite recovered.
One of Borrow’s first duties was to write a lengthy letter to Mr Jowett,
telling him of his movements, describing the city, the service at a
church he attended, the lax morality of the Hamburgers in permitting
rope-dancers in the park, and the opening of dancing-saloons, “most
infamous places,” on the Lord’s day. “England, with all her faults,” he
proceeds, “has still some regard to decency, and will not tolerate such a
shameless display of vice on so sacred a season, when a decent
cheerfulness is the freest form in which the mind or countenance ought to
invest themselves.” In conclusion, he announced his intention of leaving
for Lübeck on the sixth, {108a} and he would be on the Baltic two days
later en route for St Petersburg. “My next letter, provided it pleases
the Almighty to vouchsafe me a happy arrival, will be from the Russian
capital.” By “a fervent request that you will not forget me in your
prayers,” he demonstrated that Mr Jowett’s hint had not been forgotten.
The distance between Hamburg and Lübeck is only about thirty miles, yet
it occupied Borrow thirteen hours, so abominable was the road, which “was
paved at intervals with huge masses of unhewn rock, and over this
pavement the carriage was very prudently driven at a snail’s pace; for,
had anything approaching speed been attempted, the entire demolition of
the wheels in a few minutes must have been the necessary result. No
sooner had we quitted this terrible pavement than we sank to our
axle-trees in sand, mud, and water; for, to render the journey perfectly
delectable, the rain fell in torrents and ceaselessly.” {108b} The state
of the road Borrow attributed to the ill-nature of the King of Denmark,
for immediately on leaving his dominions it improved into an excellent
carriageway.
On 28th July/9th August Borrow took steamer from Travemünde, and three
days later landed at St Petersburg. His first duty was to call upon Mr
Swan, whom he found “one of the most amiable and interesting characters”
he had ever met. The arrival of a coadjutor caused Mr Swan considerable
relief, as he had suffered in health in consequence of his uninterrupted
labours in transcribing the Manchu manuscript.
Borrow was enthusiastic in his admiration of the capital of “our dear and
glorious Russia.” St Petersburg he considered “the finest city in the
world” {109} other European capitals were unworthy of comparison. The
enormous palaces, the long, straight streets, the grandeur of the public
buildings, the noble Neva that flows majestically through “this Queen of
the cities,” the three miles long Nevsky Prospect, paved with wood; all
aroused in him enthusiasm and admiration. “In a word,” he wrote to his
mother, “I can do little else but look and wonder.” All that he had read
and heard of the capital of All the Russias had failed to prepare him for
this scene of splendour. The meeting and harmonious mixing of East and
West early attracted his attention. The Oriental cultivation of a
twelve-inch beard among the middle and lower classes, placed them in
marked contrast with the moustached or clean-shaven patricians and
foreigners. In short, Russia gripped hold of and warmed Borrow’s
imagination. Here were new types, curious blendings of nationalities
unthought of and strange to him, a mine of wealth to a man whose studies
were never books, except when they helped him the better to understand
men.
Another thing that attracted him to Russia was the great kindness with
which he was received, both by the English Colony and the natives: to the
one he appealed by virtue of a common ancestry; to the other, on account
of his knowledge of the Russian tongue, not to speak of his mission,
which acted as a strong recommendation to their favour. On his part
Borrow reciprocated the esteem. If he were an implacable enemy, he was
also a good friend, and he thoroughly appreciated the manner in which he
was welcomed by his countrymen, especially the invitation he received
from one of them to make his house his home until he found a suitable
dwelling. To his mother he wrote:
“The Russians are the best-natured, kindest people in the world, and
though they do not know as much as the English [he was not referring
to the Colony], they have not their fiendish, spiteful dispositions,
and if you go amongst them and speak their language, however badly,
they would go through fire and water to do you a kindness.” Later,
when in Portugal, he heartily wished himself “back in Russia . . .
where I had left cherished friends and warm affections.”
High as was his opinion of the Russians, he was at a loss to understand
how they had earned their reputation as “the best general linguists in
the world.” He found Russian absolutely necessary to anyone who wished
to make himself understood. French and German as equivalents were of
less value in St Petersburg than in England.
At first Borrow took up his residence “for nearly a fortnight in a hotel,
as the difficulty of procuring lodgings in this place is very great, and
when you have procured them you have to furnish them yourself at a
considerable expense . . . eventually I took up my abode with Mr Egerton
Hubbard, a friend of Mr Venning’s [at 221 Galernoy Ulitza], where I am
for the present very comfortably situated.” {110} He stayed with Mr
Hubbard for three months; but was eventually forced to leave on account
of constant interruptions, probably by his fellow-boarders, in
consequence of which he could neither perform his task of transcription
nor devote himself to study. He therefore took a small lodging at a cost
of nine shillings a week, including fires, where he could enjoy quiet and
solitude. His meals he got at a Russian eating-house, dinner costing
fivepence, “consequently,” he writes to his mother, “I am not at much
expense, being able to live for about sixty pounds a year and pay a
Russian teacher, who has five shillings for one lesson a week.”
One of Borrow’s earliest thoughts on arriving at St Petersburg had been
to present his letters of introduction. Within two days of landing he
called upon Prince Alexander Galítzin, {111} accompanied by his
fellow-lodger, young Venning. One of the most important, and at the same
time useful, friendships that he made was with Baron Schilling de
Canstadt, the philologist and savant, who, later, with his accustomed
generosity, was to place his unique library at Borrow’s disposition. The
Baron was one of the greatest bibliophiles of his age, and possessed a
collection of Eastern manuscripts and other priceless treasures that was
world-famous. He spared neither expense nor trouble in procuring
additions to his collection, which after his death was acquired by the
Imperial Academy of Science at St Petersburg. In this literary
treasure-house Borrow found facilities for study such as he nowhere else
could hope to obtain.
Another friendship that Borrow made was with John P. Hasfeldt, a man of
about his own age attached to the Danish Legation, who also gave lessons
in languages. Borrow seems to have been greatly attracted to Hasfeldt,
who wrote to him with such cordiality. It was Hasfeldt who gave to
Borrow as a parting gift the silver shekel that he invariably carried
about with him, and which caused him to be hailed as blessed by the
Gibraltar Jews.
In his letter Hasfeldt shows himself a delightful correspondent. His
generous camaraderie seemed to warm Borrow to response, as indeed well it
might. Who could resist the breezy good humour of the following from a
letter addressed to Borrow by Hasfeldt years later?—
“Do you still eat Pike soup? Do you remember the time when you lived
on that dish for more than six weeks, and came near exterminating the
whole breed? And the pudding that accompanied it, that always lay as
hard as a stone on the stomach? This you surely have not forgotten.
Yes, your kitchen was delicately manipulated by Machmoud, your Tartar
servant, who only needed to give you horse-meat to have merited a
diploma. Do you still sing when you are in a good humour? Doubtless
you are not troubled with many friends to visit you, for you are not
of the sort who are easily understood, nor do you care to have
everyone understand you; you prefer to have people call you grey and
let you gae.”
Other friends Borrow made, including Nikolai Ivánovitch Gretch, {112a}
the grammarian, and Friedrich von Adelung, {112b} who assisted him with
the loan of books and MSS. in Oriental tongues.
The story of Borrow’s labours in connection with the printing of the
Manchu version of the New Testament, forms a remarkable study of
unswerving courage and will-power triumphing over apparently
insurmountable obstacles. The mere presence of difficulties seemed to
increase his eagerness and determination to overcome them.
Disappointments he had in plenty; but his indomitable courage and
untiring energy, backed up by the earnest support he received from Earl
Street, enabled him to emerge from his first serious undertaking with the
knowledge that he had succeeded where failure would not have been
discreditable.
He threw himself into his work with characteristic eagerness. At the end
of the first two months he had transcribed the Second Book of Chronicles
and the Gospel of St Matthew. He formed a very high opinion of the work
of the translator, and took the opportunity of paying a tribute to the
followers of Ignatius Loyola (Father Puerot was a Jesuit). “When,” he
writes, “did a Jesuit any thing which he undertook, whether laudable or
the reverse, not far better than any other person?” yet they laboured in
vain, for “they thought not of His glory, but of the glory of their
order.” {113}
Borrow discovered that Mr Lipovzoff knew nothing of the Bible Society’s
scheme for printing the New Testament in Manchu; but he found, what was
of even greater importance to him, that the old man knew no European
language but Russian. Thus the frequent conversations and explanations
all tended to improve Borrow’s knowledge of the language of the people
among whom he was living.
Mr Lipovzoff struck Borrow as being “rather a singular man,” as he took
occasion to inform Mr Jowett, apparently utterly indifferent as to the
fate of his translation, excellent though it was. As a matter of fact,
Mr Lipovzoff was occupied with his own concerns, and, as an official in
the Russian Foreign Office, most likely saw the inexpediency of a too
eager enthusiasm for the Bible Society’s Manchu-Tartar programme. He was
probably bewildered by the fierce energy of its honest and compelling
agent, who had descended upon St Petersburg to do the Society’s bidding
with an impetuosity and determination foreign to Russian official life.
Borrow was on fire with zeal and impatient of the apathy of those around
him.
He soon began to show signs of that singleness of purpose and
resourcefulness that, later, was to arouse so much enthusiasm among the
members of the Bible Society at home. The transcribing and collating
Puerot’s version of the Scriptures occupied the remainder of the year.
On the completion of this work, it had been arranged that Mr Swan should
return to his mission-station in Siberia. The next step was to obtain
official sanction to print the Lipovzoff version of the New Testament.
Dr Schmidt, to whom Borrow turned for advice and information, was
apparently very busily occupied with his own affairs, which included the
compilation of a Mongolian Grammar and Dictionary. The Doctor was
optimistic, and promised to make enquiries about the steps to be taken to
obtain the necessary permission to print; but Borrow heard nothing
further from him.
“Thus circumstanced, and being very uneasy in my mind,” he writes, “I
determined to take a bold step, and directly and without further
feeling my way, to petition the Government in my own name for
permission to print the Manchu Scriptures. Having communicated this
determination to our beloved, sincere, and most truly Christian
friend Mr Swan (who has lately departed to his station in Siberia,
shielded I trust by the arm of his Master), it met with his perfect
approbation and cordial encouragement. I therefore drew up a
petition, and presented it with my own hand to His Excellence Mr
Bludoff, Minister of the Interior.” {114a}
The minister made reply that he doubted his jurisdiction in the matter;
but that he would consider. Fearful lest the matter should miscarry or
be shelved, Borrow called on the evening of the same day upon the British
Minister, the Hon. J. D. Bligh, “a person of superb talents, kind
disposition, and of much piety,” {114b} whose friendship Borrow had
“assiduously cultivated,” and who had shown him “many condescending marks
of kindness.” {114c} But Mr Bligh was out. Nothing daunted, Borrow
wrote a note entreating his interest with the Russian officials. On
calling for an answer in the morning, he was received by Mr Bligh, when
“he was kind enough to say that if I desired it he would apply officially
to the Minister, and exert all his influence in his official character in
order to obtain the accomplishment of my views, but at the same time
suggested that it would, perhaps, be as well at a private interview to
beg it as a personal favour.” {115a}
There was hesitation, perhaps suspicion, in official quarters. It is
easy to realise that the Government was not eager to assist the agent of
an institution closely allied to the Russian Bible Society, which it had
recently been successful in suppressing. It might with impunity suppress
a Society; but in George Borrow it soon became evident that the officials
had to deal with a man of purpose and determination who used a British
Minister as a two-edged sword. Borrow was invited to call at the Asiatic
Department: he did so, and learned that if permission were granted, Mr
Lipovzoff (who was a clerk in the Department) was to be censor (over his
own translation!) and Borrow editor. There was still the “If.” Borrow
waited a fortnight, then called on Mr Bligh. By great good chance Mr
Bludoff was dining that evening with the British Minister. The same
night Borrow received a message requesting him to call on Mr Bludoff the
next day. On presenting himself he was given a letter to the Director of
Worship, which he delivered without delay, and was told to call again on
the first day of the following week.
“On calling there _I found that permission had been granted to print the
Manchu Scripture_.” {115b} Baron Schilling had rendered some assistance
in getting the permission, and Borrow was requested to inform him of “the
deep sense of obligation” of the Bible Society, to which was added a
present of some books.
Borrow clearly viewed this as only a preliminary success; he had in mind
the eventual printing of the whole Bible. He was beginning to feel
conscious of his own powers. Mr Swan had gone, and upon Borrow’s
shoulders rested the whole enterprise. A mild wave of enthusiasm passed
over the Head Office at Earl Street on receipt of the news that
permission to print had been obtained.
“You cannot conceive,” Borrow wrote to Mr Jowett, “the cold, heartless
apathy in respect to the affair, on which I have been despatched hither
as an _assistant_, which I have found in people to whom I looked not
unreasonably for encouragement and advice.” {116} Well might he
underline the word “assistant.” In this same letter, with a spasmodic
flicker of the old self-confidence, he adds, “In regard to what we have
yet to do, let it be borne in mind, that we are by no means dependent
upon Mr Lipovzoff, though certainly to secure the services, which he is
capable of performing, would be highly desirable, and though he cannot
act outwardly in the character of Editor (he having been appointed
censor), he may privately be of great utility to us.” Borrow seems to
have formed no very high opinion of Mr Lipovzoff’s capacity for affairs,
although he recognised his skill as a translator.
At first Borrow seems to have found the severity of the winter very
trying. “The cold when you go out into it,” he writes to his mother
(1st/13th Feb. 1834), “cuts your face like a razor, and were you not to
cover it with furs the flesh would be bitten off. The rooms in the
morning are heated with a stove as hot as ovens, and you would not be
able to exist in one for a minute; but I have become used to them and
like them much, though at first they made me dreadfully sick and brought
on bilious headaches.”
There was still at the Sarepta House, the premises of the Bible Society’s
bankers in St Petersburg, the box of Manchu type, which had not been
examined since the river floods. In addition to this, the only other
Manchu characters in St Petersburg belonged to Baron Schilling, who
possessed a small fount of the type, which he used “for the convenience
of printing trifles in that tongue,” as Borrow phrased it. This was to
be put at Borrow’s disposal if necessary; but first the type at the
Sarepta House had to be examined. Borrow’s plan was, provided the type
were not entirely ruined, to engage the services of a printer who was
accustomed to setting Mongolian characters, which are very similar to
those of Manchu, who would, he thought, be competent to undertake the
work. He suggested following the style of the St Matthew’s Gospel
already printed, giving to each Gospel and the Acts a volume and printing
the Epistles and the Apocalypse in three more, making eight volumes in
all.
These he proposed putting “in a small thin wooden case, covered with blue
stuff, precisely after the manner of Chinese books, in order that they
may not give offence to the eyes of the people for whom they are intended
by a foreign and unusual appearance, for the mere idea that they are
barbarian books would certainly prevent them being read, and probably
cause their destruction if ever they found their way into the Chinese
Empire.” {117} Borrow left nothing to chance; he thought out every
detail with great care before venturing to put his plans into execution.
Although busily occupied in an endeavour to stimulate Russian government
officials to energy and decision, Borrow was not neglecting what had been
so strongly urged upon him, the perfecting of himself in the Manchu
dialect. In reply to an enquiry from Mr Jowett as to what manner of
progress he was making, he wrote:—
“For some time past I have taken lessons from a person who was twelve
years in Pekin, and who speaks Manchu and Chinese with fluency. I
pay him about six shillings English for each lesson, which I grudge
not, for the perfect acquirement of Manchu is one of my most ardent
wishes.” {118a}
This person Borrow subsequently recommended to the Society “to assist me
in making a translation into Manchu of the Psalms and Isaiah,” but the
pundit proved “of no utility at all, but only the cause of error.”
Borrow was soon able to transcribe the Manchu characters with greater
facility and speed than he could English. In addition to being able to
translate from and into Manchu, he could compose hymns in the language,
and even prepared a Manchu rendering of the second Homily of the Church
of England, “On the Misery of Man.” He had, however, made the discovery
that Manchu was far less easy to him than it had at first appeared, and
that Amyot was to some extent justified in his view of the difficulties
it presented. “It is one of those deceitful tongues,” he confesses in a
letter to Mr Jowett, “the seeming simplicity of whose structure induces
you to suppose, after applying to it for a month or two, that little more
remains to be learned, but which, should you continue to study a year, as
I have studied this, show themselves to you in their veritable colours,
amazing you with their copiousness, puzzling with their idioms.”{118b}
Its difficulties, however, did not discourage him; for he had a great
admiration for the language which “for majesty and grandeur of sound, and
also for general copiousness is unequalled by any existing tongue.”
{118c}
However great his exertions or discouragements, Borrow never forgot his
mother, to whom he was a model son. On 1st/13th February he sent her a
draft for twenty pounds, being the second since his arrival six months
previously. Thus out of his first half-year’s salary of a hundred
pounds, he sent to his mother forty pounds (in addition to the seventeen
pounds he had paid into her account before sailing), and with it a
promise that “next quarter I shall try and send you thirty,” lest in the
recent storms of which he had heard, some of her property should have
suffered damage and be in need of repair. The larger remittance,
however, he was unable to make on account of the illness that had
necessitated the drinking of a bottle of port wine each day (by doctor’s
orders); but he was punctual in remitting the twenty pounds. The attack
which required so drastic a remedy originated in a chill caught as the
ice was breaking up. “I went mad,” he tells his mother, “and when the
fever subsided, I was seized with the ‘Horrors,’ which never left me day
or night for a week.” {119} During this illness everyone seems to have
been extremely kind and attentive, the Emperor’s apothecary, even,
sending word that Borrow was to order of him anything, medical or
otherwise, that he found himself in need of.