JANUARY–OCTOBER 1836
WHEN Borrow entered Spain she was in the throes of civil war. In 1814
British blood and British money had restored to the throne Ferdinand
VII., who, immediately he found himself secure, and forgetting his
pledges to govern constitutionally, dissolved the Cortes and became an
absolute monarch. All the old abuses were revived, including the
re-establishment of the Inquisition. For six years the people suffered
their King’s tyranny, then they revolted, with the result that Ferdinand,
bending to the wind, accepted a re-imposition of the Constitution. In
1823 a French Army occupied Madrid in support of Ferdinand, who promptly
reverted to absolutism.
In 1829 Ferdinand married for the fourth time, and, on the birth of a
daughter, declared that the Salic law had no effect in Spain, and the
young princess was recognised as heir-apparent to the throne. This drew
from his brother, Don Carlos, who immediately left the country, a protest
against his exclusion from the succession. When his daughter was four
years of age, Ferdinand died, and the child was proclaimed Queen as
Isabel II.
A bitter war broke out between the respective adherents of the Queen and
her uncle Don Carlos. Prisoners and wounded were massacred without
discrimination, and an uncivilised and barbarous warfare waged when
Borrow crossed the Portuguese frontier “to undertake the adventure of
Spain.”
Spain had always appealed most strongly to Borrow’s imagination.
“In the day-dreams of my boyhood,” he writes, “Spain always bore a
considerable share, and I took a particular interest in her, without
any presentiment that I should, at a future time, be called upon to
take a part, however humble, in her strange dramas; which interest,
at a very early period, led me to acquire her noble language, and to
make myself acquainted with the literature (scarcely worthy of the
language), her history and traditions; so that when I entered Spain
for the first time I felt more at home than I should otherwise have
done.” {164a}
Whilst standing at the door of the Inn of the Three Nations on the day
following his arrival at Badajos, meditating upon the deplorable state of
the country he had just entered, Borrow recognised in the face of one of
two men who were about to pass him the unmistakable lineaments of Egypt.
Uttering “a certain word,” he received the reply he expected and
forthwith engaged in conversation with the two men, who both proved to be
gypsies. These men spread the news abroad that staying at the Inn of the
Three Nations was a man who spoke Romany. “In less than half an hour the
street before the inn was filled with the men, women, and children of
Egypt.” Borrow went out amongst them, and confesses that “so much
vileness, dirt, and misery I had never seen among a similar number of
human beings; but worst of all was the evil expression of their
countenances.” {164b} He soon discovered that their faces were an
accurate index to their hearts, which were capable of every species of
villainy. The gypsies clustered round him, fingering his hands, face and
clothes, as if he were a holy man.
Gypsies had always held for Borrow a strange attraction, {164c} and he
determined to prolong his stay at Badajos in order that he might have an
opportunity of becoming “better acquainted with their condition and
manners, and above all to speak to them of Christ and His Word; for I was
convinced, that should I travel to the end of the universe, I should meet
with no people more in need of a little Christian exhortation.” {165a}
Intimate though his acquaintance with the gypsies of other countries had
been, Borrow was aghast at the depravity of those of Spain. The men were
drunkards, brigands, and murderers; the women unchaste, and inveterate
thieves. Their language was terrifying in its foulness. They seemed to
have no religion save a misty glimmering of metempsychosis, which had
come down to them through the centuries, and having been very wicked in
this world they asked, with some show of reason, why they should live
again. They were incorrigible heathens, keenly interested in the
demonstration that their language was capable of being written and read,
but untouched by the parables of Lazarus or the Prodigal Son, which
Borrow read and expounded to them. “Brother,” exclaimed one woman, “you
tell us strange things, though perhaps you do not lie; a month since I
would sooner have believed these tales, than that this day I should see
one who could read Romany.” {165b}
Neither by exhortation nor by translating into Romany a portion of the
Gospel of St Luke could Borrow make any impression upon the minds of the
gypsies, therefore when one of them, Antonio by name, announced that “the
affairs of Egypt” called for his presence “on the frontiers of
Costumbra,” and that he and Borrow might as well journey thus far
together, he decided to avail himself of the opportunity. It was
arranged that Borrow’s luggage should be sent on ahead, for, as Antonio
said, “How the _Busné_ [the Spaniards] on the road would laugh if they
saw two _Calés_ [Gypsies] with luggage behind them.” {166a} Thus it came
about that an agent of the British and Foreign Bible Society, mounted
upon a most uncouth horse “of a spectral white, short in the body, but
with remarkably long legs” and high in the withers, set out from Badajos
on 16th January 1836, escorted by a smuggler astride a mule; for the
affairs of Egypt on this occasion were the evasion of the Customs dues.
Towards evening on the first day the curiously assorted pair arrived at
Mérida, and proceeded to a large and ruinous house, a portion of which
was occupied by some connections of the gypsy Antonio’s. In the large
hall of the old mansion they camped, and here, acting on the gypsy’s
advice, Borrow remained for three days. Antonio himself was absent from
early morning until late at night, occupied with his own affairs. {166b}
The fourth night was spent in the forest by the campfire of some more of
Antonio’s friends. On one occasion, but for the fortunate possession of
a passport, the affairs of Egypt would have involved Borrow in some
difficulties with the authorities. At another time, for safety’s sake,
he had to part from Antonio and proceed on his way alone, picking up the
_contrabandista_ further on the road.
When some distance beyond Jaraicéjo, it was discovered that the affairs
of Egypt had ended disastrously in the discomfiture and capture of
Antonio’s friends by the authorities. The news was brought by the
gypsy’s daughter. Antonio must return at once, and as the steed Borrow
was riding, which belonged to Antonio, would be required by him, Borrow
purchased the daughter’s donkey, and having said good-bye to the
smuggler, he continued his journey alone.
By way of Almaráz and Oropésa Borrow eventually reached Talavéra (24th
Jan.). On the advice of a Toledo Jew, with whom he had become acquainted
during the last stage of his journey, he decided to take the diligence
from Talavéra to Madrid, the more willingly because the Jew amiably
offered to purchase the donkey. On the evening of 25th Jan. Borrow
accordingly took his place on the diligence, and reached the capital the
next morning.
On arriving at Madrid, Borrow first went to a Posada; but a few days
later he removed to lodgings in the Calle de la Zarza (the Street of the
Brambles),—“A dark and dirty street, which, however, was close to the
Puerta del Sol, the most central point of Madrid, into which four or five
of the principal streets debouche, and which is, at all times of the
year, the great place of assemblage for the idlers of the capital, poor
or rich.” {167a}
The capital did not at first impress Borrow very favourably. {167b}
“Madrid is a small town,” he wrote to his mother, {167c} “not larger than
Norwich, but it is crammed with people, like a hive with bees, and it
contains many fine streets and fountains . . . Everything in Madrid is
excessively dear to foreigners, for they are made to pay six times more
than natives . . . I manage to get on tolerably well, for I make a point
of paying just one quarter of what I am asked.”
He suffered considerably from the frost and cold. From the snow-covered
mountains that surround the city there descend in winter such cold blasts
“that the body is drawn up like a leaf.” {167d} Then again there were
the physical discomforts that he had to endure.
“You cannot think,” he wrote, {168a} “what a filthy, uncivilised set of
people the Spanish and Portuguese are. There is more comfort in an
English barn than in one of their palaces; and they are rude and ill-bred
to a surprising degree.”
Borrow was angry with Spain, possibly for being so unlike his “dear and
glorious Russia.” He saw in it a fertile and beautiful country,
inhabited by a set of beings that were not human, “almost as bad as the
Irish, with the exception that they are not drunkards.” {168b} They were
a nation of thieves and extortioners, who regarded the foreigner as their
legitimate prey. Even his own servant was “the greatest thief and
villain that ever existed; who, if I would let him, would steal the teeth
out of my head,” {168c} and who seems actually to have destroyed some of
his master’s letters for the sake of the postage. Being forced to call
upon various people whose addresses he did not know, Borrow found it
necessary to keep the man, in spite of his thievish proclivities, for he
was clever, and had he been dismissed his place would, in all
probability, have been taken by an even greater rogue.
At night he never went out, for the streets were thronged with hundreds
of people of the rival factions, bent on “cutting and murdering one
another; . . . for every Spaniard is by nature a cruel, cowardly tiger.
Nothing is more common than to destroy a whole town, putting man, woman,
and child to death, because two or three of the inhabitants have been
obnoxious.” {168d} Thus he wrote to his mother, all-unconscious of the
anxiety and alarm that he was causing her lest he, her dear George,
should be one of the cut or murdered.
Later, Borrow seems to have revised his opinion of Madrid and of its
inhabitants. He confesses that of all the cities he has known Madrid
interested him the most, not on account of its public buildings, squares
or fountains, for these are surpassed in other cities; but because of its
population. “Within a mud wall scarcely one league and a half in
circuit, are contained two hundred thousand human beings, certainly
forming the most extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire
world.” {169} In the upper classes he had little interest. He mixed but
little with them, and what he saw did not impress him favourably. It was
the Spaniard of the lower orders that attracted him. He regarded this
class as composed not of common beings, but of extraordinary men. He
admired their spirit of proud independence, and forgave them their
ignorance. His first impressions of Spain had been unfavourable because,
as a stranger, he had been victimised by the amiable citizens, who were
merely doing as their fathers had done before them. Once, however, he
got to know them, he regarded with more indulgence their constitutional
dishonesty towards the stranger, a weakness they possessed in common with
the gypsies, and hailed them as “extraordinary men.” Borrow’s
impulsiveness frequently led him to ill-considered and hasty conclusions,
which, however, he never hesitated to correct, if he saw need for
correction.
The disappointment he experienced as regards Madrid and the Spaniards is
not difficult to understand. He arrived quite friendless and without
letters of introduction, to find the city given over to the dissensions
and strifes of the supporters of Isabel II. and Don Carlos. His journey
had been undertaken in “the hope of obtaining permission from the
Government to print the New Testament in the Castilian language, without
the notes insisted on by the Spanish clergy, for circulation in Spain,”
and there seemed small chance of those responsible for the direction of
affairs listening to the application of a foreigner for permission to
print the unannotated Scriptures. For one thing, any acquiescence in
such a suggestion would draw forth from the priesthood bitter reproaches
and, most probably, active and serious opposition. It is only natural
that despondency should occasionally seize upon him who sought to light
the lamp of truth amidst such tempests.
[Picture: George Villiers, Fourth Earl of Clarendon. British Minister at
Madrid, 1833–1839. From the engraving after Sir Francis Grant in the
National Portrait Gallery]
The man to approach was the premier, Juan Álvarez y Mendizábal, {170a} a
Christianised Jew. He was enormously powerful, and Borrow decided to
appeal to him direct; for, armed with the approval of Mendizábal, no one
would dare to interfere with his plans or proceedings. Borrow made
several attempts to see Mendizábal, who “was considered as a man of
almost unbounded power, in whose hands were placed the destinies of the
country.” Without interest or letters of introduction, he found it
utterly impossible to obtain an audience. Recollecting the assistance he
had received from the Hon. J. D. Bligh at St Petersburg, Borrow
determined to make himself known to the British Minister at Madrid, the
Hon. George Villiers, {170b} and, “with the freedom permitted to a
British subject . . . ask his advice in the affair.” Borrow was received
with great kindness, and, after conversing upon various topics for some
time, he introduced the subject of his visit. Mr Villiers willingly
undertook to help him as far as lay in his power, and promised to
endeavour to procure for him an audience with the Premier. In this he
was successful, and Borrow had an interview with Mendizábal, who was
almost inaccessible to all but the few.
At eight o’clock on the morning of 7th February Borrow presented himself
at the palace, where Mendizábal resided, and after waiting for about
three hours, was admitted to the presence of the Prime Minister of Spain,
whom he found—“A huge athletic man, somewhat taller than myself, who
measure six foot two without my shoes. His complexion was florid, his
features fine and regular, his nose quite aquiline, and his teeth
splendidly white; though scarcely fifty years of age, his hair was
remarkably grey. He was dressed in a rich morning gown, with a gold
chain round his neck, and morocco slippers on his feet.” {171}
Borrow began by assuring Mendizábal that he was labouring under a grave
error in thinking that the Bible Society had sought to influence unduly
the slaves of Cuba, that they had not sent any agents there, and they
were not in communication with any of the residents. Mr Villiers had
warned Borrow that the premier was very angry on account of reports that
had reached him of the action in Cuba of certain people whom he insisted
were sent there by the Bible Society. In vain Borrow suggested that the
disturbers of the tranquillity of Spain’s beneficent rule in the Island
were in no way connected with Earl Street; he was several times
interrupted by Mendizábal, who insisted that he had documentary proof.
Borrow with difficulty restrained himself from laughing in the premier s
face. He pointed out that the Committee was composed of quiet,
respectable English gentlemen, who attended to their own concerns and
gave a little of their time to the affairs of the Bible Society.
On Borrow asking for permission to print at Madrid the New Testament in
Spanish without notes, he was met with an unequivocal refusal. In spite
of his arguments that the whole tenor of the work was against
bloodshedding and violence, he could not shake the premier’s opinion that
it was “an improper book.”
At first Borrow had experienced some difficulty in explaining himself, on
account of the Spaniard’s habit of persistent interruption, and at last
he was forced in self-defence to hold on in spite of Mendizábal’s
remarks. The upshot of the interview was that he was told to renew his
application when the Carlists had been beaten and the country was at
peace. Borrow then asked permission to introduce into Spain a few copies
of the New Testament in the Catalan dialect, but was refused. He next
requested to be allowed to call on the following day and submit a copy of
the Catalan edition, and received the remarkable reply that the
prime-minister refused his offer to call lest he should succeed in
convincing him, and Mendizábal did not wish to be convinced. This seemed
to show that the Mendizábal was something of a philosopher and a little
of a humorist.
With this Borrow had to be content, and after an hour’s interview he
withdrew. The premier was unquestionably in a difficult position. On
the one hand, he no doubt desired to assist a man introduced to him by
the representative of Great Britain, to whom he looked for assistance in
suppressing Carlism; on the other hand, he had the priesthood to
consider, and they would without question use every means of which they
stood possessed to preserve the prohibition against the dissemination of
the Scriptures, without notes, a prohibition that had become almost a
tradition.
But Borrow was not discouraged. He wrote in a most hopeful strain that
he foresaw the speedy and successful termination of the Society’s
negotiations in the Peninsula. He looked forward to the time when only
an agent would be required to superintend the engagement of colporteurs,
and to make arrangements with the booksellers. He proceeds to express a
hope that his exertions have given satisfaction to the Society.
Borrow received an encouraging letter from Mr Brandram, telling him of
the Committee’s appreciation of his work, but practically leaving with
him the decision as to his future movements. They were inclined to
favour a return to Lisbon, but recognised that “in these wondrous days
opportunities may open unexpectedly.” In the matter of the Gospel of St
Luke in Spanish Romany, the publication of extracts was authorised, but
there was no enthusiasm for the project. “We say,” wrote Mr Brandram,
“_festina lente_. You will be doing well to occupy leisure hours with
this work; but we are not prepared for printing anything beyond portions
at present.”
In the meantime, however, an article in the Madrid newspaper, _El
Español_, upon the history, aims, and achievements of the British and
Foreign Bible Society, had determined Borrow to remain on at Madrid for a
few weeks at least.
“Why should Spain, which has explored the New World, why should she
alone be destitute of Bible Societies,” asked the _Español_. “Why
should a nation eminently Catholic continue isolated from the rest of
Europe, without joining in the magnificent enterprise in which the
latter is so busily engaged?” {173a}
This article fired Borrow, and with the promise of assistance from the
liberal-minded _Español_, he set to work “to lay the foundation of a
Bible Society at Madrid.” {173b} As a potential head of the Spanish
organization, Borrow’s eyes were already directed towards the person of
“a certain Bishop, advanced in years, a person of great piety and
learning, who has himself translated the New Testament” {173c} and who
was disposed to print and circulate it.
Nothing, however, came of the project. Mr Brandram wrote to
Borrow:—“With regard to forming a Bible Society in Madrid, and appointing
Dr Usoz Secretary, it is so out of our usual course that the Committee,
for various reasons, cannot comply with your wishes—of the desirableness
of forming such a Society at present, you and your friend must be the
best judges. If it is to be an independent society, as I suppose must be
the case,” Mr Brandram continues, and the Bible Society’s aid or that of
its agent is sought, the new Society must be formed on the principles of
the British and Foreign Bible Society, admitting, “on the one hand,
general cooperation, and on the other, that it does not circulate
Apocryphal Bibles.” There was doubt at Earl Street as to whether the
time was yet ripe; so the decision was very properly left with Borrow,
and he was told that he “need not fear to hold out great hopes of
encouragement in the event of the formation of such a Society.” {174}
A serious difficulty now arose in the resignation of Mendizábal (March
1836). Two of his friends and supporters, in the persons of Francisco de
Isturitz and Alcala Galiano, seceded from his party, and, under the name
of _moderados_, formed an opposition to their Chief in the Cortes. They
had the support of the Queen Regent and General Cordova, whom Mendizábal
had wished to remove from his position as head of the army on account of
his great popularity with the soldiers, whose comforts and interests he
studied. Isturitz became Premier, Galiano Minister of Marine (a mere
paper title, as there was no navy at the time), and the Duke of Rivas
Minister of the Interior.
Conscious of the advantage of possessing powerful friends, especially in
a country such as Spain, Borrow had used every endeavour to enlarge the
circle of his acquaintance among men occupying influential positions, or
likely to succeed those who at present filled them. The result was that
he was able to announce to Mr Brandram that the new ministry, which had
been formed, was composed “entirely of _my_ friends.” {175a} With
Galiano in particular he was on very intimate terms. Everything promised
well, and the new Cabinet showed itself most friendly to Borrow and his
projects, until the actual moment arrived for writing the permission to
print the Scriptures in Spanish. Then doubts arose, and the decrees of
the Council of Trent loomed up, a threatening barrier, in the eyes of the
Duke of Rivas and his secretary.
So hopeful was Borrow after his first interview with the Duke that he
wrote:—“I shall receive the permission, the Lord willing, in a few days . . .
The last skirts of the cloud of papal superstition are vanishing
below the horizon of Spain; whoever says the contrary either knows
nothing of the matter or wilfully hides the truth.” {175b}
At Earl Street the good news about the article in the _Español_ gave the
liveliest satisfaction. “Surely a new and wonderful thing in Spain,”
wrote Mr Brandram {175c} in a letter in which he urged Borrow to “guard
against becoming too much committed to one political party,” and asked
him to write more frequently, as his letters were always most welcome.
This letter reached Madrid at a time when Borrow found himself absolutely
destitute.
“For the last three weeks,” he writes, {175d} “I have been without money,
literally without a farthing.” Everything in Madrid was so dear. A
month previously he had been forced to pay £12, 5s. for a suit of
clothes, “my own being so worn that it was impossible to appear longer in
public with them.” {175e} He had written to Mr Wilby, but in all
probability his letter had gone astray, the post to Estremadura having
been three times robbed. “The money may still come,” he continues,
{176a} “but I have given up all hopes of it, and I am compelled to write
home, though what I am to do till I can receive your answer I am at a
loss to conceive . . . whatever I undergo, I shall tell nobody of my
situation, it might hurt the Society and our projects here. I know
enough of the world to be aware that it is considered as the worst of
crimes to be without money.” {176b}
For weeks Borrow devoted himself to the task of endeavouring to obtain
permission to print the Scriptures in Spanish. The Duke of Rivas
referred him to his secretary, saying, “He will do for you what you
want!” But the secretary retreated behind the decrees of the Council of
Trent. Then Mr Villiers intervened, saw the Duke and gave Borrow a
letter to him. Again the Council of Trent proved to be the obstacle.
Galiano took up the matter and escorted Borrow to the Bureau of the
Interior, and had an interview with the Duke’s secretary. When Galiano
left, there remained nothing for the conscientious secretary to do but to
write out the formal permission, all else having been satisfactorily
settled; but no sooner had Galiano departed, than the recollection of the
Council of Trent returned to the secretary with terrifying distinctness,
and no permission was given.
Tired of the Council of Trent and the Duke’s secretary, Borrow would
sometimes retire to the banks of the canal and there loiter in the sun,
watching the gold and silver fish basking on the surface of its waters,
or gossiping with the man who sold oranges and water under the shade of
the old water-tower. Once he went to see an execution—anything to drive
from his mind the conscientious secretary and the Council of Trent, the
sole obstacles to the realisation of his plans.
Borrow informed Mr Brandram at the end of May that the Cabinet was
unanimously in favour of granting his request; nothing happened. There
seems no doubt that the Cabinet’s policy was one of subterfuge. It could
not afford to offend the British Minister, nor could it, at that
juncture, risk the bitter hostility of the clergy, consequently it
promised and deferred. A petition to the Ecclesiastical Committee of
Censors, although strongly backed by the Civil Governor of Madrid (within
whose department lay the censorship), produced no better result. There
was nothing heard but “To-morrow, please God!”
Foiled for the time being in his constructive policy, Borrow turned his
attention to one of destruction. He had already announced to the Bible
Society that the authority of the Pope was in a precarious condition.
“Little more than a breath is required to destroy it,” he writes,
{177} “and I am almost confident that in less than a year it will be
disowned. I am doing whatever I can in Madrid to prepare the way for
an event so desirable. I mix with the people, and inform them who
and what the Pope is, and how disastrous to Spain his influence has
been. I tell them that the indulgences, which they are in the habit
of purchasing, are of no more intrinsic value than so many pieces of
paper, and were merely invented with the view of plundering them. I
frequently ask: ‘Is it possible that God, who is good, would sanction
the sale of sin? and, supposing certain things are sinful, do you
think that God, for the sake of your money, would permit you to
perform them?’ In many instances my hearers have been satisfied with
this simple reasoning, and have said that they would buy no more
indulgences.”
Mr Brandram promptly wrote warning Borrow against becoming involved in
any endeavour to hasten the fall of the Pope. Although deeply interested
in what their agent had to say, there was a strong misgiving at
headquarters that for a few moments Borrow had “forgotten that our hopes
of the fall of — are founded on the simple distribution of the
Scriptures,” {178a} and he was told that, as their agent, he must not
pursue the course that he described. The warning was carefully worded,
so that it might not wound Borrow’s feelings or lessen his enthusiasm.
Borrow had found that the climate of Madrid did not agree with him. It
had proved very trying during the winter; but now that summer had arrived
the heat was suffocating and the air seemed to be filled with “flaming
vapours,” and even the Spaniards would “lie gasping and naked upon their
brick floors.” {178b} In spite of the heat, however, he was occupied
“upon an average ten hours every day, dancing attendance on one or
another of the Ministers.” {178c}
Sometimes the difficulties that he had to contend with reduced him almost
to despair of ever obtaining the permission he sought. “Only those,” he
writes, {178d} “who have been in the habit of dealing with Spaniards, by
whom the most solemn promises are habitually broken, can form a correct
idea of my reiterated disappointments, and of the toil of body and agony
of spirit which I have been subjected to. One day I have been told, at
the Ministry, that I had only to wait a few moments and all I wished
would be acceded to; and then my hopes have been blasted with the
information that various difficulties, which seemed insurmountable, had
presented themselves, whereupon I have departed almost broken-hearted;
but the next day I have been summoned in a great hurry and informed that
‘all was right,’ and that on the morrow a regular authority to print the
Scriptures would be delivered to me, but by that time fresh and yet more
terrible difficulties had occurred—so that I became weary of my life.”
Mr Villiers evidently saw through the Spanish Cabinet’s policy of delay;
for he spoke to the ministers collectively and individually, strongly
recommending that the petition be granted. He further pointed out the
terrible condition of the people, who lacked religious instruction of any
kind, and that a nation of atheists would not prove very easy to govern.
It may have been these arguments, or, what is more likely, a desire on
the part of the Cabinet to please the representative of Great Britain, in
any case a greater willingness was now shown to give the necessary
permission. Measures were accordingly taken to evade the law and protect
the printer into whose hands the work was to be entrusted, until an
appropriate moment arrived for repealing the existing statute.
Borrow forwarded to Earl Street the following interesting letter that he
had received from Mr Villiers, which confirms his words as to the keen
interest taken by the British Minister in the endeavour to obtain the
permission to print the New Testament in Spanish
DEAR SIR,
I have had a long conversation with Mr Isturitz upon the subject of
printing the Testament, in which he showed himself to be both
sagacious and liberal. He assured me that the matter should have his
support whenever the Duque de Ribas brought it before the Cabinet,
and that as far as he was concerned the question _might be considered
as settled_.
You are quite welcome to make any use you please of this note with
the D. de Ribas or Mr Olivan. {179a}
I am, Dear Sir,
Yours faithfully,
GEORGE VILLIERS.
_June_ 23_rd_ [1836].
It was unquestionably Borrow’s personality that was responsible for Mr
Villiers’ interest in the scheme, as when Lieutenant Graydon {179b} had
applied to him on a previous occasion he declined to interfere.
At Borrow’s suggestion the President of the Bible Society, Lord Bentley,
wrote to Mr Villiers thanking him for the services he had rendered in
connection with the Spanish programme. It was characteristic of Borrow
that he added to his letter as a reason for his request, that “I may be
again in need of Mr V’s. assistance before I leave Spain.” {180} Borrow
was always keenly alive to the advantage of possessing influential
friends who would be likely to assist him in his labours for the Society.
He was not a profound admirer of the Society of Jesus for nothing, and
although he would scorn to exercise tact in regard to his own concerns,
he was fully prepared to make use of it in connection with those of the
Bible Society. He was a Jesuit at heart, and would in all probability
have preferred a good compositor who had been guilty of sacrilege to a
bad one who had not. He saw that besides being something of a
diplomatist, an agent of the Bible Society had also to be a good business
man. He has been called tactless, until the word seems to have become
permanently identified with his name; how unjustly is shown by a very
hasty examination of his masterly diplomacy, both in Russia and Spain.
Diplomacy, as Borrow understood it, was the art of being persuasive when
persuasion would obtain for him his object, and firm, even threatening,
when strong measures were best calculated to suit his ends. It is only
the fool who defines tact as the gentle art of pleasing everybody.
Diplomacy is the art of getting what you want at the expense of
displeasing as few people as possible.
“The affair is settled—thank God!!! and we may begin to print whenever we
think proper.” With these words Borrow announces the success of his
enterprise. “Perhaps you have thought,” he continues, “that I have been
tardy in accomplishing the business which brought me to Spain; but to be
able to form a correct judgment you ought to be aware of all the
difficulties which I have had to encounter, and which I shall not
enumerate. I shall content myself with observing that for a thousand
pounds I would not undergo again all the mortifications and
disappointments of the last two months.” {181a}
There were moments when Borrow forgot the idiom of Earl Street and
reverted to his old, self-confident style, which had so alarmed some of
the excellent members of the Committee. He had achieved a great triumph,
how great is best shown by the suggestion made by the prime minister that
if determined to avail himself of the permission that had been obtained,
he had better employ “the confidential printer of the Government, who
would keep the matter secret; as in the present state of affairs he [the
prime minister] would not answer for the consequences if it were noised
abroad.” {181b} By giving the license to print the New Testament without
notes, the Cabinet was assuming a very grave responsibility. All this
shows how great was the influence of the British Minister upon the
Isturitz Cabinet, and how considerable that of Borrow upon the British
Minister.
Now that his object was gained, there was nothing further to keep Borrow
in Spain, and he accordingly asked for instructions, suggesting that, as
soon as the heats were over, Lieutenant Graydon might return to Madrid
and take charge, “as nothing very difficult remains to be accomplished,
and I am sure that Mr Villiers, at my entreaty, would extend to him the
patronage with which he has honoured me.” {181c} In conclusion he
announced himself as ready to do “whatever the Bible Society may deem
expedient.” {181d}
Borrow now began to suffer from the reaction after his great exertions.
He became so languid as scarcely to be able to hold a pen. He had no
books, and conversation was impossible, for the heat had driven away all
who could possibly escape, among them his acquaintances, and he
frequently remembered with a sigh the happy days spent in St Petersburg.
A few days later (25th July) he wrote proposing as a member of the Bible
Society Dr Luis de Usoz y Rio, “a person of great respectability and
great learning.” {182a} Dr Usoz, who was subsequently to be closely
associated with Borrow in his labours in Spain, was a man of whom he was
unable to “speak in too high terms of admiration; he is one of the most
learned men in Spain, and is become in every point a Christian according
to the standard of the New Testament.” {182b}
Dr Usoz also addressed a letter to the Society asking to be considered as
a correspondent and entrusted with copies of the Scriptures, which he was
convinced he could circulate in every province of Spain. The advantage
of having one of the editors of the principal newspaper of Spain on the
side of the Society did not fail to appeal to Borrow. Dr Usoz not only
became a member of the Bible Society, but earned from Borrow a splendid
tribute in the Preface to _The Bible in Spain_.
Before advantage could be taken of the hardly earned permission to print
the New Testament in Madrid, the Revolution of La Granja {182c} broke
out, resulting in the proclamation of the Constitution of 1812, by which
the press became free. In Madrid chaos reigned as a result. Borrow
himself has given a vivid account of how Quesada, by his magnificent
courage, quelled for the time being the revolution, how the ministers
fled, how eventually the heroic tyrant was recognised and killed, and,
finally, how, at a celebrated coffee-house in Madrid, Borrow saw the
victorious Nationals drink to the Constitution from a bowl of coffee,
which had first been stirred with one of the mutilated hands of the hated
Quesada. {183a}
Now that no obstacle stood in the way of the printing of the Spanish New
Testament, Borrow was requested to return to England that he might confer
with the authorities at Earl Street. “You may now consider yourself
under marching orders to return home as soon as you have made all the
requisite arrangements; . . . you have done, we are persuaded, a good and
great work,” {183b} Mr Brandram wrote. It was thought by the Committee
that the advantages to be derived from a conference with Borrow would be
well worth the expense involved in his having to return again to Spain.
To this request for his immediate presence in London Borrow replied:
“I shall make the provisional engagement as desired [as regards the
printing of the New Testament] and shall leave Madrid as soon as
possible; but I must here inform you, that I shall find much
difficulty in returning to England, as all the provinces are
disturbed in consequence of the Constitution of 1812 having been
proclaimed, and the roads are swarming with robbers and banditti. It
is my intention to join some muleteers, and attempt to reach Granada,
from whence, if possible, I shall proceed to Malaga or Gibraltar, and
thence to Lisbon, where I left the greatest part of my baggage. Do
not be surprised, therefore, if I am tardy in making my appearance;
it is no easy thing at present to travel in Spain. But all these
troubles are for the benefit of the Cause, and must not be repined
at.” {183c}
Leaving Madrid on 20th August, Borrow was at Granada on the 30th, as
proved by the Visitors’ Book, in which he signed himself
“George Borrow Norvicensis.”
The real object of this visit appears to have been his desire to study
more closely the Spanish gypsies. From Granada he proceeded to Malaga.
Neither place can be said to be on the direct road to England; but the
disturbed state of the country had to be taken into consideration, and it
was a question not of the shortest road but the safest.
On his return to London, early in October, Borrow wrote a report {184}
upon his labours, roughly sketching out his work since he left Badajos.
He repeated his view that the Papal See had lost its power over Spain,
and that the present moment was a peculiarly appropriate one in which to
spread the light of the Gospel over the Peninsula. Forgetting the
thievish propensities of the race, he wrote glowingly of the Spaniards
and their intellectual equipment, the clearness with which they expressed
themselves, and the elegance of their diction. The mind of the Spaniard
was a garden run to waste, and it was for the British and Foreign Bible
Society to cultivate it and purge it of the rank and bitter weeds.
He foresaw no difficulty whatever in disposing of 5000 copies of the New
Testament in a short time in the capital and provincial towns, in
particular Cadiz and Seville where the people were more enlightened. He
was not so confident about the rural districts, where those who assured
him that they were acquainted with the New Testament said that it
contained hymns addressed to the Virgin which were written by the Pope.