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.
Borrow remained in England for a month (3rd October/4th November), during which time he conferred with the Committee and Officials at Earl Street as to the future programme in Spain. On 4th November, having sent to his mother £130 of the £150 he had drawn as salary, and promising to write to Mr Brandram from Cadiz, he sailed from London in the steamer Manchester, bound for Lisbon and Cadiz.
In a letter to his mother, he describes his fellow passengers as invalids fleeing from the English winter. “Some of them are three parts gone with consumption,” he writes, “some are ruptured, some have broken backs; I am the only sound person in the ship, which is crowded to suffocation. I am in a little hole of a berth where I can scarcely breathe, and every now and then wet through.”
The horrors of the voyage from Falmouth to Lisbon he has described with terrifying vividness; [185a] how the engines broke down and the vessel was being driven on to Cape Finisterre; how all hope had been abandoned, and the Captain had told the passengers of their impending fate; how the wind suddenly “veered right about, and pushed us from the horrible coast faster than it had previously driven us towards it.” [185b]
During the whole of that terrible night Borrow had remained on deck, all the other passengers having been battened down below. He was almost drowned in the seas that broke over the vessel, and, on one occasion, was struck down by a water cask that had broken away from its lashings. Even after he had escaped Cape Finisterre, the ordeal was not over; for the ship was in a sinking condition, and fire broke out on board. Eventually the engines were repaired, the fire extinguished, and Lisbon was reached on the 13th, where Borrow landed with his water-soaked luggage, and found on examination that the greater part of his clothes had been ruined. In spite of this experience, he determined to continue his voyage to Cadiz in the Manchester, probably for reasons of economy, indifferent to the fact that she was utterly unseaworthy, and that most of the other passengers had abandoned her. During his enforced stay in Lisbon, whilst the ship was being patched up, Borrow saw Mr Wilby and made enquiry into the state of the Society’s affairs in Portugal. Many changes had taken place and the country was in a distracted state.
After a week’s delay at Lisbon the Manchester continued her voyage to Cadiz, where she arrived without further mishap on the 21st. During this voyage a fellow passenger with Borrow was the Marqués de Santa Coloma. “According to the expression of the Marqués, when they stepped on to the quay at Cadiz, Borrow looked round, saw some Gitanos lounging there, said something that the Marqués could not understand, and immediately ‘that man became une grappe de Gitanos.’ They hung round his neck, clung to his knees, seized his hands, kissed his feet, so that the Marqués hardly liked to join his comrade again after such close embraces by so dirty a company.” [186]
Borrow now found himself in his allotted field—unhappy, miserable, distracted Spain. Gomez, the Carlist leader, had been sweeping through Estremadura like a pestilence, and Borrow fully expected to find Seville occupied by his banditti; but Carlists possessed no terrors for him. Unless he could do something to heal the spiritual wounds of the wretched country, he assured Mr Brandram, he would never again return to England.
On 1st December Mr Brandram wrote to Borrow expressing deep sympathy with all he had been through, and adding: “If you go forward . . . we will help you by prayer. If you retreat we shall welcome you cordially.” He appears to have written before consulting with the Committee, who, on hearing of the actual state of affairs in Spain, became filled with misgiving and anxiety for the safety of their agent, who seemed to be destitute of fear. Mr Brandram had been content for Borrow to go forward if he so decided, but, as he wrote later, “your prospective dangers, while they created an absorbing interest, were viewed in different lights by the Committee,” who thought they had “no right to commit you to such perils. My own feeling was that, while I could not urge you forward, there were peculiarities in your history and character that I would not keep you back if you were minded to go. A few felt with me—most, however, thought that you should have been restrained.” [187] It was decided therefore to forbid him to proceed on his hazardous adventure, and accordingly a letter was addressed to him care of the British Consul at Cadiz. If Borrow received this he disregarded the instructions it contained.
Cadiz proved to be in a state of great confusion. It was reported that numerous bands of Carlists were in the neighbourhood, and the whole city was in a state of ferment in consequence. In the coffee-houses the din of tongues was deafening; would-be orators, sometimes as many as six at one time, sprang up upon chairs and tables and ventilated their political views. The paramount, nay, the only, interest was not in the words of Christ; but the probable doings of the Carlists.
On the night of his arrival Borrow was taken ill with what, at the time, he thought to be cholera, and for some time in the little “cock-loft or garret” that had been allotted to him at the over-crowded French hotel, he was “in most acute pain, and terribly sick,” drinking oil mixed with brandy. For two days he was so exhausted as to be able to do nothing.
On the morning of the 24th he embarked in a small Spanish steamer bound for Seville, which was reached that same night. The sun had dissipated the melancholy and stupor left by his illness, and by the time he arrived at Seville he was repeating Latin verses and fragments of old Spanish ballads to a brilliant moon. The condition of affairs at Seville was as bad if not worse than at Cadiz. There was scarcely any communication with the capital, the diligences no longer ran, and even the fearless arrieros (muleteers) declined to set out. Famine, plunder and murder were let loose over the land. Bands of banditti robbed, tortured and slew in the name of Don Carlos. They stripped the peasantry of all they possessed, and the poor wretches in turn became brigands and preyed upon those weaker than themselves. Through all this Borrow had to penetrate in order to reach Madrid. Had the road been familiar to him he would have performed the journey alone, dressed either as a beggar or as a gypsy. It is obvious that he appreciated the hazardous nature of the journey he was undertaking, for he asked Mr Brandram, in the event of his death, to keep the news from old Mrs Borrow as long as possible and then to go down to Norwich and break it to her himself.
At Seville Borrow encountered Baron Taylor, [188] whom he states that he had first met at Bayonne (during the “veiled period”), and later in Russia, beside the Bosphorus, and finally in the South of Ireland. Than Baron Taylor there was no one for whom Borrow entertained “a greater esteem and regard . . . There is a mystery about him which, wherever he goes, serves not a little to increase the sensation naturally created by his appearance and manner.” [189] Borrow was much attracted to this mysterious personage, about whom nothing could be asserted “with downright positiveness.”
From Seville Borrow proceeded to Cordoba, accompanied by “an elderly person, a Genoese by birth,” whose acquaintance he had made and whom he hoped later to employ in the distribution of the Testaments. Borrow had hired a couple of miserable horses. The Genoese had not been in the saddle for some thirty years, and he was an old man and timid. His horse soon became aware of this, and neither whip nor spur could persuade it to exert itself. When approaching night rendered it necessary to make a special effort to hasten forward, the bridle of the discontented steed had to be fastened to that of its fellow, which was then urged forward “with spur and cudgel.” Both the Genoese and his mount protested against such drastic measures, the one by entreaties to be permitted to dismount, the other by attempting to fling itself down. The only notice Borrow took of these protests was to spur and cudgel the more.
On the night of the third day the party arrived at Cordoba, and was cordially welcomed by the Carlist innkeeper, who, although avowing himself strictly neutral, confessed how great had been his pleasure at welcoming the Carlists when they occupied the City a short time before. It was at this inn that Borrow explained to the elderly Genoese, who had indiscreetly resented his host’s disrespectful remarks about the young Queen Isabel, how he invariably managed to preserve good relations with all sorts of factions. “My good man,” he said, “I am invariably of the politics of the people at whose table I sit, or beneath whose roof I sleep; at least I never say anything which can lead them to suspect the contrary; by pursuing which system I have more than once escaped a bloody pillow, and having the wine I drank spiced with sublimate.” [190a]
Borrow remained at Cordoba much longer than he had intended, because of the reports that reached him of the unsafe condition of the roads. He sent back the old Genoese with the horses, and spent the time in thoroughly examining the town and making acquaintances among its inhabitants. At length, after a stay of ten or eleven days, despairing of any improvement in the state of the country, he continued his journey in the company of a contrabandista, temporarily retired from the smuggling trade, from whom he hired two horses for the sum of forty-two dollars. Borrow allowed no compunction to assail him as to the means he employed when he was thoroughly convinced as to the worthiness of the end he had in view. To further his projects he would cheerfully have travelled with the Pope himself.
The journey to Madrid proved dismal in the extreme. The contrabandista was sullen and gloomy, despite the fact that his horses had been insured against loss and the handsome fee he was to receive for his services. The Despeñaperros in the Sierra Morena through which Borrow had to pass, had, even in times of peace, a most evil reputation; but by great good luck for Borrow, the local banditti had during the previous day “committed a dreadful robbery and murder by which they sacked 40,000 reals.” [190b] They were in all probability too busily occupied in dividing their spoil to watch for other travellers. Another factor that was much in Borrow’s favour was a change in the weather.
“Suddenly the Lord breathed forth a frozen blast,” Borrow writes, “the severity of which was almost intolerable. No human being but ourselves ventured forth. We traversed snow-covered plains, and passed through villages and towns to all appearance deserted. The robbers kept close to their caves and hovels, but the cold nearly killed us. We reached Aranjuez late on Christmas day, and I got into the house of an Englishman, where I swallowed nearly a pint of brandy: [191a] it affected me no more than warm water.” [191b]
Borrow arrived at Madrid on 26th December, having almost by a miracle avoided death or capture by the human wolves that infested the country. He took up his quarters at 16 Calle de Santiago at the house of Maria Díaz, who was to prove so loyal a friend during many critical periods of his work in Spain. His first care was to call upon the British Minister, and enquire if he considered it safe to proceed with the printing without special application to the new Government. Mr Villiers’ answer is interesting, as showing how thoroughly he had taken Borrow under his protection.
“You obtained the permission of the Government of Isturitz,” he replied, “which was a much less liberal one than the present; I am a witness to the promise made to you by the former Ministers, which I consider sufficient; you had best commence and complete the work as soon as possible without any fresh application, and should anyone attempt to interrupt you, you have only to come to me, whom you may command at any time.” [191c]
Having saved the Bible Society 9000 reals in its paper bill alone, [191d] Borrow proceeded to arrange for the printing. He had already opened negotiations with Charles Wood, who was associated with Andréas Borrégo, [192a] the most fashionable printer in Madrid, who not only had the best printing-presses in Spain, but had been specially recommended by Isturitz. It had been tentatively arranged that an edition of 5000 copies of the New Testament should be printed from the version of Father Felipe Scio de San Miguel, confessor to Ferdinand VII., without notes or commentaries, and delivered within three months.
Remembering the advice of Isturitz, Borrow determined to entrust the work to Borrégo, including the binding. He was the Government printer, and, furthermore, enjoyed the good opinion of Mr Villiers. Having persuaded Borrégo to reduce his price to 10 reals a sheet, he placed the order. It was agreed that the work should be completed in ten weeks from 20th January.
Each sheet was to be passed by Borrow. As a matter of fact he read every word three times; but in order to insure absolute accuracy, he engaged the services of Dr Usoz, “the first scholar in Spain,” [192b] who was to be responsible for the final revision, leaving the question of the remuneration to the generosity of the Bible Society. The result of all this care was that, according to Borrow the edition exhibited scarcely one typographical error. [192c]
The question of systematic distribution had next to be considered. After much musing and cogitation, Borrow came to the conclusion that the only satisfactory method was for him to “ride forth from Madrid into the wildest parts of Spain,” where the word is most wanted and where it seems next to an impossibility to introduce it, and this he proposed to the Committee.
“I will take with me 1200 copies,” he wrote, [193] “which I will engage to dispose of for little or much to the wild people of the wild regions which I intend to visit; as for the rest of the edition, it must be disposed of, if possible, in a different way—I may say the usual way; part must be entrusted to booksellers, part to colporteurs, and a depôt must be established at Madrid. Such work is every person’s work, and to anyone may be confided the execution of it; it is a mere affair of trade. What I wish to be employed in is what, I am well aware, no other individual will undertake to do: namely, to scatter the Word upon the mountains, amongst the valleys and the inmost recesses of the worst and most dangerous parts of Spain, where the people are more fierce, fanatic and, in a word, Carlist.”
In the same letter Borrow shows how thoroughly he understood his own character when he wrote:
“I shall not feel at all surprised should it [the plan] be disapproved of all-together; but I wish it to be understood that in that event I could do nothing further than see the work through the press, as I am confident that whatever ardour and zeal I at present feel in the cause would desert me immediately, and that I should neither be able nor willing to execute anything which might be suggested. I wish to engage in nothing which would not allow me to depend entirely on myself. It would be heart-breaking to me to remain at Madrid expending the Society’s money, with almost the certainty of being informed eventually by the booksellers and their correspondents that the work has no sale. In a word, to make sure that some copies find their way among the people, I must be permitted to carry them to the people myself.”
He goes on to inform Mr Brandram that in anticipation of the acquiescence of the Committee in his schemes, he has purchased, for about £12, one of the smuggler’s horses, which he has preferred to a mule, on account of the expense of the popular hybrid, and also because of its enormous appetite, to satisfy which two pecks of barley and a proportionate amount of straw are required each twenty-four hours, as the beast must be fed every four hours, day and night. Thus the members of the Committee learned something about the ways of the mule.
The response to this suggestion was a resolution passed by the Sub-Committee for General Purposes, by which Borrow was permitted to enter into correspondence with the principal booksellers and other persons favourable to the dissemination of the Scriptures. In a covering letter [194a] Mr Brandram very pertinently enquired, “Can the people in these wilds read?” Whilst not wishing to put a final negative to the proposal, the Secretary asked if there were no middle course. Could Borrow not establish a depôt at some principal place, and from it make excursions occupying two or three days each, “instead of devoting yourself wholly to the wild people.”
Borrow assured Mr Brandram that he had misunderstood. The care of “the wild people” was only to be incidental on his visits to towns and villages to establish depôts or agencies. “On my way,” he wrote, “I intended to visit the secret and secluded spots amongst the rugged hills and mountains, and to talk to the people, after my manner, of Christ.” [194b]
It was on 3rd April that Borrow had received the letter from Earl Street authorising him “to undertake the tour suggested . . . for the purpose of circulating the Spanish New Testament in some of the principal cities of Spain.” He was requested to write as frequently as possible, giving an account of his adventures. At the same time Mr Brandram wrote: “You will perceive by the Resolution that nearly all your requests are complied with. You have authority to go forth with your horses, and may you have a prosperous journey . . . Pray for wisdom to discern between presumptuousness and want of Faith.” [195a]
The printing of the 5000 copies of the New Testament in Spanish was completed early in April, but there was considerable delay over the binding. The actual date of publication was 1st May. The work had been well done, and was “allowed by people who have perused it, and with no friendly feeling, to be one of the most correct works that have ever issued from the press in Spain, and to be an exceedingly favourable specimen of typography and paper.” [195b]
In addition to the contrabandista’s horse, Borrow had acquired “a black Andalusian stallion of great size and strength, and capable of performing a journey of a hundred leagues in a week’s time.” [195c] In spite of his unbroken state, Borrow decided to purchase the animal, relying upon “a cargo of bibles” to reduce him to obedience. It was with this black Andalusian that he created a sensation by riding about Madrid, “with a Russian skin for a saddle, and without stirrups. Altogether making so conspicuous a figure that [the Marqués de] Santa Coloma hesitated, and it needed all his courage to be seen riding with him. At this period Borrow spent a good deal of money and lived very freely (i.e., luxuriously) in Spain. From the point of view of the Marqués, a Spanish Roman Catholic, Borrow was excessively bigoted, and fond of attacking Roman Catholics and Catholicism. He evidently, however, liked him as a companion; but he says Borrow never, as far as he saw or could learn, spoke of religion to his Gypsy friends, and that he soon noticed his difference of attitude towards them. He was often going to the British Embassy, and he thinks was considered a great bore there.” [195d]
The unanimous advice of Borrow’s friends, Protestant and Roman Catholic, was “that for the present I should proceed with the utmost caution, but without concealing the object of my mission.” [196a] He was to avoid offending people’s prejudices and endeavour everywhere to keep on good terms with the clergy, “at least one-third of whom are known to be anxious for the dissemination of the Word of God, though at the same time unwilling to separate themselves from the discipline and ceremonials of Rome.” [196b]
Thus equipped with sage counsel, Borrow was just about to start upon his journey into the North, when he found it necessary to dismiss his servant owing to misconduct. This caused delay. Through Mr O’Shea, the banker, he got to know Antonio Buchini, the Greek of Constantinople, who, of all the strange characters Borrow had met he considered “the most surprising.” [196c] Antonio’s vices were sufficiently obvious to discourage anyone from attempting to discover his virtues. He loved change, quarrelled with everybody, masters, mistresses, and fellow-servants. Borrow engaged him; but looked to the future with misgiving. Antonio unquestionably had his bad points; yet he was a treasure compared with the Spaniard whom he succeeded. This man was much given to drink and was always engaged in some quarrel. He drew his terrible knife, such as all Spaniards carry, upon all who offended him. On one occasion Borrow saved from his wrath a poor maid-servant who had incurred his ire by burning a herring she was toasting for him. Antonio’s virtues comprised an unquestioned honesty and devotion, and on the whole he was a desirable servant in a country where such virtues were extremely rare.
It was not until 15th May that Borrow, accompanied by Antonio, was able to get away from Madrid. A few days previously he had contracted “a severe cold which terminated in a shrieking, disagreeable cough.” This, following on a fortnight’s attack of influenza, proved difficult to shake off. Finding himself scarcely able to stand, he at length appealed to a barber-surgeon, who drew 16 oz. of blood, assuring his patient that on the following day he would be well enough to start.
That same evening Mr Villiers sent round to Borrow’s lodgings informing him that he had decided to help him by every means in his power. He announced his intention of purchasing a large number of the Testaments, and despatching them to the various British Consuls in Spain, with instructions “to employ all the means which their official situation should afford them to circulate the books in question, and to assure their being noticed.” [197a] They were also to render every assistance in their power to Borrow “as a friend of Mr Villiers, and a person in the success of whose enterprise he himself took the warmest interest.” [197b] Mr Villiers’ interest in Borrow’s mission seems to have led him into a diplomatic indiscretion. Borrow himself confesses that he could scarcely believe his ears. Although assured of the British Minister’s friendly attitude, he “could never expect that he would come forward in so noble, and to say the least of it, considering his high diplomatic situation, so bold and decided a manner.” [197c] This act of friendliness becomes a personal tribute to Borrow, when it is remembered that at first Mr Villiers had been by no means well disposed towards the Bible Society.
Before leaving Madrid, Borrow had circularised all the principal booksellers, offering to supply the New Testament at fifteen reals a copy, the actual cost price; but he was not sanguine as to the result, for he found the Spaniard “short-sighted and . . . so utterly unacquainted with the rudiments of business.” [198] Advertisements had been inserted in all the principal newspapers stating that the booksellers of Madrid were now in a position to supply the New Testament in Spanish, unencumbered by obscuring notes and comments. Borrow also provided for an advertisement to be inserted each week during his absence, which he anticipated would be about five months. After that he knew not what would happen—there was always China.
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]
Great changes had taken place in Madrid during Borrow’s absence. The Carlists had actually appeared before its gates, although they had subsequently retired. Liberalism had been routed and a Moderado Cabinet, under the leadership of Count Ofalia, ruled the city and such part of the country as was sufficiently complaisant as to permit itself to be ruled. As the Moderados represented the Court faction, Borrow saw that he had little to expect from them. He was unacquainted with any of the members of the Cabinet, and, what was far more serious for him, the relations between the new Government and Sir George Villiers [211] were none too cordial, as the British Minister had been by no means favourable to the new ministry.
Having written to Mr Brandram telling of his arrival in Madrid, “begging pardon for all errors of commission and omission,” and confessing himself “a frail and foolish vessel,” that had “accomplished but a slight portion of what I proposed in my vanity,” Borrow proceeded to disprove his own assertion. He found the affairs of the Bible Society in a far from flourishing condition. The Testaments had not sold to any considerable extent, for which “only circumstances and the public poverty” were the cause, as Dr Usoz explained.
To awaken interest in his campaign, Borrow planned to print a thousand advertisements, which were to be posted in various parts of the city, and to employ colporteurs to vend the books in the streets. He despatched consignments of books to towns he had visited that required them, and in the enthusiasm of his eager and active mind foresaw that, “as the circle widens in the lake into which a stripling has cast a pebble, so will the circle of our usefulness continue widening, until it has embraced the whole vast region of Spain.” [212a]
It soon became evident that there was to be a very strong opposition. A furious attack upon the Bible Society was made in a letter addressed to the editors of El Español on 5th November, prefixed to a circular of the Spiritual Governor of Valencia, forbidding the purchase or reading of the London edition of Father Scio’s Bible. The letter described the Bible Society as “an infernal society,” and referred in passing to “its accursed fecundity.” It also strongly resented the omission of the Apocrypha from the Scio Bible. Borrow promptly replied to this attack in a letter of great length, and entirely silenced his antagonist, whom he described to Mr Brandram (20th Nov.) as “an unprincipled benefice-hunting curate.” “You will doubtless deem it too warm and fiery,” he writes, referring to his reply, “but tameness and gentleness are of little avail when surrounded by the vassal slaves of bloody Rome.” [212b] Borrow’s response to the “benefice-hunting curate” not only silenced him, but was listened to by the General Committee of the Society “with much pleasure.”
The cause of the trouble in Valencia lay with the other agent of the Bible Society in Spain, Lieutenant James Newenham Graydon, R.N., who first took up the work of distributing the Scriptures at Gibraltar in 1835. Here he became associated with the Rev. W. H. Rule, of the Wesleyan Methodist Society. “The Lieutenant, who seems to have combined the personal charm of the Irish gentleman with some of the perfervid incautiousness of the Keltic temperament, finding himself unemployed at Gibraltar, resolved to do what lay in his power for the spiritual enlightenment of Spain. Without receiving a regular commission from any society, he took up single-handed the task which he had imposed upon himself.” [213a]
Borrow had first met Lieutenant Graydon at Madrid, in the summer of 1836, where he saw him two or three times. When Graydon left, on account of the heat, Borrow had removed to Graydon’s lodgings as being more comfortable than his own. The prohibition in Valencia was directly due to the indiscretion and incaution of Graydon. The Vicar-General of the province gave as a reason for his action, an advertisement that had appeared in the Diario Comercial of Valencia, undertaking to supply Bibles gratis to those who could not afford to buy them. For this advertisement Graydon was admonished by the General Committee, which refused to entertain his plea that, being unpaid, he was not, strictly speaking, an agent of the Bible Society. He was given to understand that as the Society was responsible for his acts he must be guided by its views and wishes.
The next occasion on which Borrow came into conflict with this impulsive missionary free-lance was in March 1838, when he heard from the Rev. W. H. Rule that Graydon was on his way to Andalusia. Borrow immediately wrote to Mr Brandram that he, acting on the advice of Sir George Villiers, had already planned an expedition into that province, and furthermore that he had despatched there a number of Testaments. He explained to Mr Brandram that he was apprehensive “of the re-acting at Seville of the Valencian Drama, which I have such unfortunate cause to rue, as I am the victim on whom an aggravated party have wreaked their vengeance, and for the very cogent reason that I was within their reach.” [213b] On this occasion Graydon was instructed not to start upon his projected journey, although Mr Brandram gave the order much against his own inclination. [214a]
One great difficulty that Borrow had to contend with was the apathy of the Madrid booksellers, who “gave themselves no manner of trouble to secure the sale, and even withheld [the] advertisements from the public.” [214b] This determined him to open a shop himself, and, accordingly, towards the end of November, he secured premises in the Calle del Principe, one of the main thoroughfares, for which he agreed to pay a rent of eight reals a day. He furnished the premises handsomely, with glass cases and chandeliers, and caused to be painted in large yellow characters the sign “Despacho de la Sociedad Bíblica y Estrangera” (Depôt of the Biblical and Foreign Society). He engaged a Gallegan (José Calzado, whom he called Pepe) as salesman, and on 27th November formally opened his new premises. Customers soon presented themselves; but many were disappointed on finding that they could not obtain the Bible. “I could have sold ten times the amount of what I did,” Borrow writes. “I must therefore be furnished with Bibles instanter; send me therefore the London edition, bad as it is, say 500 copies.” [214c]
To facilitate the passing of these books through the customs, Borrow suggested that they should be consigned to the British Consul at Cadiz, who was friendly to the Society and “would have sufficient influence to secure their admission into Spain. But the most advisable way,” he goes on to explain with great guile, “would be to pack them in two chests, placing at the top Bibles in English and other languages, for there is a demand, viz., 100 English, 100 French, 50 German, 50 Hebrew, 50 Greek, 10 Modern Greek, 10 Persian, 20 Arabic. Pray do not fail.” [215a]
When Sir George Villiers first obtained from Isturitz permission for Borrow to print and sell the New Testament in Spanish without notes, he had cautioned him “to use the utmost circumspection, and in order to pursue his vocation with success, to avoid offending popular prejudices, which would not fail to be excited against a Protestant and a Foreigner engaged in the propagation of the Gospel.” [215b] This warning the British Minister had repeated frequently since. It was without consulting Sir George that Borrow opened his depôt, and “imprudently painted upon the window that it was the Depôt of the London (sic) Bible Society for the sale of Bibles. I told him,” Sir George writes “that such a measure would render the interference of the Authorities inevitable, and so it turned out.” [215c]
Borrow now lost the services of the faithful Antonio, who, on the last day of the year, informed him that he had become unsettled and dissatisfied with everything at his master’s lodgings, including the house, the furniture, and the landlady herself. Therefore he had hired himself out to a count for four dollars a month less than he was receiving from Borrow, because he was “fond of change, though it be for the worse. Adieu, mon maitre,” he said in parting; “may you be as well served as you deserve. Should you chance, however, to have any pressing need de mes soins, send for me without hesitation, and I will at once give my new master warning.” A few days later Borrow engaged a Basque, named Francisco, who “to the strength of a giant joined the disposition of a lamb,” [216a] and who had been strongly recommended to him.
On his return from a hurried visit to Toledo, Borrow found his Despacho succeeding as well as could be expected. To call attention to his premises he now took an extremely daring step. He caused to be printed three thousand copies of an advertisement on paper yellow, blue, and crimson, “with which I almost covered the sides of the streets” he wrote, “and besides this inserted notices in all the journals and periodicals, employing also a man, after the London fashion, to parade the streets with a placard, to the astonishment of the populace.” [216b] The result of this move, Borrow declared, was that every man, woman and child in Madrid became aware of the existence of his Despacho, as well they might. In spite of this commercial enterprise, the first month’s trading showed a sale of only between seventy and eighty New Testaments, and ten Bibles, [216c] these having been secured from a Spanish bookseller who had brought them secretly from Gibraltar, but who was afraid to sell them himself. Mr Brandram’s comment upon the letter from Borrow telling of the posters was that its contents had “afforded us no little merriment. The idea of your placards and placard-bearers in Madrid is indeed a novel one. It cannot but be effectual in giving publicity. I sincerely hope it may not be prejudicial.” [216d]
When in England, at the end of 1836, Borrow had been authorised by the Bible Society to find “a person competent to translate the Scriptures in Basque.” On 27th February 1837, he wrote telling Mr Brandram that he had become “acquainted with a gentleman well versed in that dialect, of which I myself have some knowledge.” Dr Oteiza, the domestic physician of the Marqués de Salvatierra, was accordingly commissioned to proceed with the work, for which, when completed, he was paid the sum of “£8 and a few odd shillings.” Borrow reported to Mr Brandram (7th June 1837):
“I have examined it with much attention, and find it a very faithful version. The only objection which can be brought against it is that Spanish words are frequently used to express ideas for which there are equivalents in Basque; but this language, as spoken at present in Spain, is very corrupt, and a work written entirely in the Basque of Larramendi’s Dictionary would be intelligible to very few. I have read passages from it to men of Guipuscoa, who assured me that they had no difficulty in understanding it, and that it was written in the colloquial style of the province.”
Borrow had “obtained a slight acquaintance” with Basque when a youth, which he lost no opportunity of extending by mingling with Biscayans during his stay in the Peninsula. He also considerably improved himself in the language by conversing with his Basque servant Francisco. Borrow now decided to print the Gitano and Basque versions of St Luke, which he accordingly put in hand; but as the compositors were entirely ignorant of both languages, he had to exercise the greatest care in reading the proofs.
During his stay in Spain he had found time to translate into the dialect of the Spanish gypsies the greater part of the New Testament. [217a] His method had been somewhat original. Believing that there is “no individual, however wicked and hardened, who is utterly godless,” [217b] he determined to apply his belief to the gypsies. To enlist their interest in the work, he determined to allow them to do the translating themselves. At one period of his residence in Madrid he was regularly visited by two gypsy women, and these he decided to make his translators; for he found the women far more amenable than the men. In spite of the fact that he had already translated into Gitano the New Testament, or the greater part of it, he would read out to the women from the Spanish version and let them translate it into Romany themselves, thus obtaining the correct gypsy idiom. The women looked forward to these gatherings and also to “the one small glass of Malaga” with which their host regaled them. They had got as far as the eighth chapter before the meetings ended. What was the moral effect of St Luke upon the minds of two gypsies? Borrow confessed himself sceptical; first, because he was acquainted with the gypsy character; second, because it came to his knowledge that one of the women “committed a rather daring theft shortly afterwards, which compelled her to conceal herself for a fortnight.” [218a] Borrow comforted himself with the reflection that “it is quite possible, however, that she may remember the contents of those chapters on her death-bed.” [218b] The translation of the remaining chapters was supplied from Borrow’s own version begun at Badajos in 1836.
It is not strange that Borrow should be regarded with suspicion by the Spaniards on account of his association with the Gitanos. Sometimes there would be as many as seventeen gypsies gathered together at his lodgings in the Calle de Santiago.
“The people in the street in which I lived,” he writes, [218c] “seeing such numbers of these strange females continually passing in and out, were struck with astonishment, and demanded the reason. The answers which they obtained by no means satisfied them. ‘Zeal for the conversion of souls—the souls too of Gitánas,—disparáte! the fellow is a scoundrel. Besides he is an Englishman, and is not baptised; what cares he for souls? They visit him for other purposes. He makes base ounces, which they carry away and circulate. Madrid is already stocked with false money.’ Others were of the opinion that we met for the purposes of sorcery and abomination. The Spaniard has no conception that other springs of action exist than interest or villany.”