MAY–OCTOBER 1837
THE prediction of the surgeon-barber was fulfilled; by the next morning
the fever and cough had considerably abated, although the patient was
still weak from loss of blood. This, however, did not hinder him from
mounting his black Andalusian, and starting upon his initial journey of
distribution. On arriving at Salamanca, his first objective, he
immediately sought out the principal bookseller and placed with him
copies of the New Testament. He also inserted an advertisement in the
local newspaper, stating that the volume was the only guide to salvation;
at the same time he called attention to the great pecuniary sacrifices
that the Bible Society was making in order to proclaim Christ crucified.
This advertisement he caused to be struck off in considerable numbers as
bills and posted in various parts of the town, and he even went so far as
to affix one to the porch of the church. He also distributed them as he
progressed through the villages. {199}
From Salamanca (10th June) Borrow journeyed to Valladolid, and from
thence to León, {200a} (a hotbed of Carlism), where the people were
ignorant and brutal and refused to the stranger a glass of water, unless
he were prepared to pay for it. At León he was seized by a fever that
prostrated him for a week. He also experienced marked antagonism from
the clergy, who threatened every direful consequence to whosoever read or
purchased “the accursed books” which he brought. A more serious evidence
of their displeasure was shown by the action they commenced in the
ecclesiastical court against the bookseller whom Borrow had arranged with
to act as agent for his Testaments. The bookseller himself did not mend
matters by fixing upon the doors of the cathedral itself one of the
advertisements that he had received with the books.
When sufficiently recovered to travel, Borrow proceeded to Astorga, which
he reached with the utmost difficulty owing to bad roads and the fierce
heat.
“We were compelled to take up our abode,” he writes, {200b} “in a
wretched hovel full of pigs’ vermin and misery, and from this place I
write, for this morning I felt myself unable to proceed on my
journey, being exhausted with illness, fatigue and want of food, for
scarcely anything is to be obtained; but I return God thanks and
glory for being permitted to undergo these crosses and troubles for
His Word’s sake. I would not exchange my present situation,
unenviable as some may think it, for a throne.”
Thus Borrow wrote when burning with fever, after having just been told to
vacate his room at the _posada_, and having his luggage flung into the
yard to make room for the occupants of the “waggon” from Madrid to
Coruña.
From Astorga he proceeded by way of Puerto de Manzanál, Bembibre,
Cacabélos, Villafranca, Puerto de Fuencebadón and Nogáles, “through the
wildest mountains and wildernesses” to Lugo.
Owing to the unsafety of the roads, it was customary for travellers to
attach themselves to the Grand Post, which was always guarded by an
escort. At Nogáles Borrow joined the mail courier; but as a rule he was
too independent, too much in a hurry, and too indifferent to danger to
wait for such protection against the perils of the robber-infested roads.
He has given the following graphic account “of the grand post from Madrid
to Coruña, attended by a considerable escort, and an immense number of
travellers . . . We were soon mounted and in the street, amidst a
confused throng of men and quadrupeds. The light of a couple of
flambeaus, which were borne before the courier, shone on the arms of
several soldiers, seemingly drawn up on either side of the road; the
darkness, however, prevented me from distinguishing objects very clearly.
The courier himself was mounted on a little shaggy pony; before and
behind him were two immense portmanteaus, or leather sacks, the ends of
which nearly touched the ground. For about a quarter of an hour there
was much hubbub, shouting, and trampling, at the end of which period the
order was given to proceed. Scarcely had we left the village when the
flambeaus were extinguished, and we were left in almost total darkness.
In this manner we proceeded for several hours, up hill and down dale, but
generally at a very slow pace. The soldiers who escorted us from time to
time sang patriotic songs . . . At last the day began to break, and I
found myself amidst a train of two or three hundred people, some on foot,
but the greater part mounted, either on mules or the pony mares: I could
not distinguish a single horse except my own and Antonio’s. A few
soldiers were thinly scattered along the road.” {201}
After about a week’s stay at Lugo, Borrow again attached himself to the
Grand Post; but tiring of its slow and deliberate progress, he decided to
push on alone, and came very near to falling a prey to the banditti. He
was suddenly confronted by two of the fraternity, who presented their
carbines, “which they probably intended to discharge into my body, but
they took fright at the noise of Antonio’s horse, who was following a
little way behind.” {202}
The night was spent at Betanzos, where the black Andalusian was stricken
with “a deep, hoarse cough.” Remembering a prophetic remark that had
been made by a roadside acquaintance to the effect that “the man must be
mad who brings a horse to Galicia, and doubly so he who brings an
_entero_,” Borrow, determined to have the animal bled, sent for a
farrier, meanwhile rubbing down his steed with a quart of _anis_ brandy.
The farrier demanded an ounce of gold for the operation, which decided
Borrow to perform it himself. With a large fleam that he possessed, he
twice bled the Andalusian, to the astonishment of the discomfited
farrier, and saved its valuable life, also an ounce of gold. Next day he
and Antonio walked to Coruña, leading their horses.
At Coruña were five hundred copies of the New Testament that had been
sent on from Madrid. So far Borrow had himself disposed of sixty-five
copies, irrespective of those sold at Lugo and other places by means of
the advertisement. These books were all sold at prices ranging from 10
to 12 _reals_ each. Borrow made a special point of this, “to give a
direct lie to the assertion” that the Bible Society, having no vent for
the Bibles and New Testaments it printed, was forced either to give them
away or sell them by auction, when they were purchased as waste paper.
The condition of the roads at that period was so bad, on account of
robbers and Carlists, that it was forbidden to anyone to travel along the
thoroughfare leading to Santiago unless in company with the mail courier
and his escort of soldiers. Unfortunately for Borrow his black
Andalusian was not of a companionable disposition, and to bring him near
other horses was to invite a fierce contest. On the rare occasions that
he did travel with the Grand Post, Borrow was frequently involved in
difficulties on account of the _entero’s_ unsociable nature; but as he
was deeply attached to the noble beast, he retained him and suffered
dangers rather than give up the companion of many an adventure.
Some idea may be obtained of the state of rural Spain in 1837, when the
highways teemed with “patriots” bent upon robbing friend and foe alike
and afterwards assassinating or mutilating their victims, from a story
that Borrow tells of how a viper-catcher, who was engaged in pursuing his
calling in the neighbourhood of Orense, fell into the hands of these
miscreants, who robbed and stripped him. They then pinioned his hands
behind him and drew over his head the mouth of the bag containing the
_living_ vipers, which they fastened round his neck and listened with
satisfaction to the poor wretch’s cries. The reptiles stung their victim
to madness, and after having run raving through several villages he
eventually fell dead. {203a}
Making Coruña his headquarters, Borrow proceeded to Santiago, “travelling
with the courier or weekly post,” and from thence to Padrón, Pontevedra,
and Vigo. At Vigo he was apprehended as a spy, but immediately released.
It was whilst at Santiago that he repeated an experiment he had
previously made at Valladolid.
“I . . . sallied forth,” he writes, {203b} “alone and on horseback,
and bent my course to a distant village; on my arrival, which took
place just after the _siesta_ or afternoon’s nap had concluded, I
proceeded . . . to the market place, where I spread a horse-cloth on
the ground, upon which I deposited my books. I then commenced crying
with a loud voice: ‘Peasants, peasants, I bring you the Word of God
at a cheap price. I know you have but little money, but I bring it
you at whatever you can command, at four or three _reals_, according
to your means.’ I thus went on till a crowd gathered round me, who
examined the books with attention, many of them reading aloud, but I
had not long to wait; . . . my cargo was disposed of almost
instantaneously, and I mounted my horse without a question being
asked me, and returned to my temporary abode lighter than I came.”
Borrow did not repeat the experiment for fear of giving offence to the
clergy. The new means of distribution was to be used only as a last
resource.
Arriving at Padrón on the return journey, Borrow found that he had only
one book left. He determined to send Antonio forward with the horses to
await him at Coruña, whilst he made an excursion to Cape Finisterre.
“It would be,” he says, “difficult to assign any plausible reason for
the ardent desire which I entertained to visit this place; but I
remembered that last year I had escaped almost by a miracle from
shipwreck and death on the rocky sides of this extreme point of the
Old World, and I thought that to convey the Gospel to a place so wild
and remote might perhaps be considered an acceptable pilgrimage in
the eyes of my Maker.” {204a}
Hiring a guide and a pony, he reached the Cape, after surmounting
tremendous difficulties, and on arrival he and his guide were arrested as
Carlist spies. {204b} In all probability he would have been shot, such
was the certainty of the _Alcalde_ that he was a spy, had not the
professional hero of the place come forward and, after having
cross-examined him as to his knowledge of “knife” and “fork,” the only
two English words the Spaniard knew, pronounced him English, and
eventually conveyed him to the _Alcalde_ of Convucion, who released him.
On the man who had saved him Borrow privately bestowed a gratuity, and
publicly the copy of the New Testament that had led to the expedition.
He then returned to Coruña, by his journey having accomplished “what has
long been one of the ardent wishes of my heart. I have carried the
Gospel to the extreme point of the Old World.” {205a}
The black Andalusian was totally unfitted for the long mountainous
journey into the Asturias that Borrow now planned to undertake, and he
decided to dispose of him. He was greatly attached to the creature,
notwithstanding his vicious habits and the difficulties that arose out of
them. Now the _entero_ would be engaged in a deadly struggle with some
gloomy mule; again, by rushing among a crowd outside a _posada_, he would
do infinite damage and earn for his master and himself an evil name.
Borrow thus announces to the Bible Society the sale of its property:
“This animal cost the Society about 2000 _reals_ at Madrid; I, however,
sold him for 3000 at Coruña, notwithstanding that he has suffered much
from the hard labour which he had been subjected to in our wanderings in
Galicia, and likewise from bad provender.” {205b}
Borrow next set out upon an expedition to Orviedo in the Asturias, {205c}
then in daily expectation of being attacked by the Carlists. It was at
Orviedo that he received a striking tribute from a number of Spanish
gentlemen.
“A strange adventure has just occurred to me,” he wrote. {205d} “I
am in the ancient town of Orviedo, in a very large, scantily
furnished and remote room of an ancient _posada_, formerly a palace
of the Counts of Santa Cruz, it is past ten at night and the rain is
descending in torrents. I ceased writing on hearing numerous
footsteps ascending the creeking stairs which lead to my
apartment—the door was flung open, and in walked nine men of tall
stature, marshalled by a little hunchbacked personage. They were all
muffled in the long cloaks of Spain, but I instantly knew by their
demeanour that they were _caballeros_, or gentlemen. They placed
themselves in a rank before the table where I was sitting; suddenly
and simultaneously they all flung back their cloaks, and I perceived
that every one bore a book in his hand, a book which I knew full
well. After a pause, which I was unable to break, for I sat lost in
astonishment and almost conceived myself to be visited by
apparitions, the hunchback advancing somewhat before the rest, said,
in soft silvery tones, ‘_Señor_ Cavalier, was it you who brought this
book to the Asturias?’ I now supposed that they were the civil
authorities of the place come to take me into custody, and, rising
from my seat, I exclaimed: ‘It certainly was I, and it is my glory to
have done so; the book is the New Testament of God; I wish it was in
my power to bring a million.’ ‘I heartily wish so too,’ said the
little personage with a sigh; ‘be under no apprehension, Sir
Cavalier, these gentlemen are my friends. We have just purchased
these books in the shop where you have placed them for sale, and have
taken the liberty of calling upon you in order to return you our
thanks for the treasure you have brought us. I hope you can furnish
us with the Old Testament also!’ I replied that I was sorry to
inform him that at present it was entirely out of my power to comply
with his wish, as I had no Old Testaments in my possession, but I did
not despair of procuring some speedily from England. {206} He then
asked me a great many questions concerning my Biblical travels in
Spain and my success, and the views entertained by the Society in
respect to Spain, adding that he hoped we should pay particular
attention to the Asturias, which he assured me was the best ground in
the Peninsula for our labour. After about half an hour’s
conversation, he suddenly said in the English language, ‘Good night,
Sir,’ wrapped his cloak around him and walked out as he had come.
His companions, who had hitherto not uttered a word, all repeated,
‘Good night, Sir,’ and adjusting their cloaks followed him.”
This anecdote greatly impressed the General Committee. Mr Brandram wrote
(15th November 1837): “We were all deeply interested with your ten
gentlemen of Orviedo. I have introduced them at several meetings.”
Whilst at Orviedo, Borrow began to be very uneasy about the state of
affairs at the capital. “Madrid,” he wrote, {207} “is the depôt of our
books, and I am apprehensive that in the revolutions and disturbances
which at present seem to threaten it, our whole stock may perish. True
it is that in order to reach Madrid I should have to pass through the
midst of the Carlist hordes, who would perhaps slay or make me prisoner;
but I am at present so much accustomed to perilous adventure, and have
hitherto experienced so many fortunate escapes, that the dangers which
infest the route would not deter me a moment from venturing. But there
is no certain intelligence, and Madrid may be in safety or on the brink
of falling.”
Another factor that made him desirous of returning to the capital was
that, ever since leaving Coruña, he had been afflicted with a dysentery
and, later, with ophthalmia, which resulted from it, and he was anxious
to obtain proper medical advice. He determined, however, first to carry
out his project of visiting Santandér, which he reached by way of Villa
Viciosa, Colunga, Riba de Sella, Llánes, Colombres, San Vicente,
Santillana. It was at Santandér that he encountered the unfortunate
Flinter, {208} as brave with his sword as with his tongue.
Instructions had been given in a letter to Borrégo to forward to
Santandér two hundred copies of the New Testament; but, much to Borrow’s
disappointment, he found that they had not arrived. He thought that
either they had fallen into the hands of the Carlists, or his letter of
instruction had miscarried: as a matter of fact they did not leave Madrid
until 30th October, the day before Borrow arrived at the capital. Thus
his journey was largely wasted. It would be folly to remain at
Santandér, where, in spite of the strictest economy, his expenses
amounted to two pounds a day, whilst a further supply of books was
obtained. Accordingly he determined to make for Madrid without further
delay.
Purchasing a small horse, and notwithstanding that he was so ill as
scarcely to be able to support himself; indifferent to the fact that the
country between Santandér and Madrid was overrun with Carlists, whose
affairs in Castile had not prospered; too dispirited to collect his
thoughts sufficiently to write to Mr Brandram, he set out, accompanied by
Antonio, “determined to trust, as usual, in the Almighty and to venture.”
Physical ailments, however, did not in any way cause him to forget why he
had come to Santandér, and before leaving he made tentative arrangements
with the booksellers of the town as to what they should do in the event
of his being able to send them a supply of Testaments.
That journey of a hundred leagues was a nightmare. “Robberies, murders,
and all kinds of atrocity were perpetrated before, behind, and on both
sides” of them; but they passed through it all as if travelling along an
English highway. Even when met at the entrance of the Black Pass by a
man, his face covered with blood, who besought him not to enter the pass,
where he had just been robbed of all he possessed, Borrow, without making
reply, proceeded on his way. He was too ill to weigh the risks, and
Antonio followed cheerfully wherever his master went. Madrid was reached
on 31st October. {209a} The next day Borrow wrote to Mr Brandram:
“People say we have been very lucky; Antonio says, ‘It was so written’;
but I say, Glory be to the Lord for His mercies vouchsafed.”
The expedition to the Northern Provinces had occupied five and a half
months. Every kind of fatigue had been experienced, dangers had been
faced, even courted, and every incident of the road turned to further the
end in view—the distribution of the Scriptures in Spain. The countryside
had proved itself ignorant and superstitious, and the towns eager, not
for the Word of God but “for stimulant narratives, and amongst too many a
lust for the deistical writings of the French, especially for those of
Talleyrand, which have been translated into Spanish and published by the
press of Barcelona, and for which I was frequently pestered.” {209b}
Antonio had proved himself a unique body-servant and companion, and if
with a previous employer he had valued his personal comfort so highly as
to give notice because his mistress’s pet quail disturbed his slumbers,
he was nevertheless utterly indifferent to the hardships and discomforts
that he endured when with Borrow, and always proved cheerful and willing.
Borrow had “by private sale disposed of one hundred and sixteen
Testaments to individuals entirely of the lower classes, namely,
muleteers, carmen, _contrabandistas_, etc.” {209c} He had dared to
undertake what perhaps only he was capable of carrying to a successful
issue; for, left alone to make his own plans and conduct the campaign
along his own lines, Borrow has probably never been equalled as a
missionary, strange though the term may seem when applied to him. His
fear of God did not hinder him from making other men fear God’s
instrument, himself. His fine capacity for affairs, together with what
must have appeared to the clergy of the districts through which he passed
his outrageous daring, conspired to his achieving what few other men
would have thought, and probably none were capable of undertaking. A
missionary who rode a noble, black Andalusian stallion, who could use a
fleam as well as a blacksmith’s hammer, who could ride barebacked, and,
above all, made men fear him as a physical rather than a spiritual force,
was new in Spain, as indeed elsewhere. The very novelty of Borrow’s
methods, coupled with the daring and unconventional independence of the
man himself, ensured the success of his mission. There was something of
the Camel-Driver of Mecca about his missionary work. He saw nothing
anomalous in being possessed of a strong arm as well as a Christian
spirit. He would endeavour to win over the ungodly; but woe betide them
if they should attempt to pit their strength against his. Borrow’s own
comment upon his journey in the Northern Provinces was, “Insignificant
are the results of man’s labours compared with the swelling ideas of his
presumption; something, however, had been effected by the journey which I
had just concluded.” {210}