Books: The Life of George Borrow

H >> Herbert Jenkins >> The Life of George Borrow

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37

It was at this juncture that Borrow's extensive acquaintance with the
lower orders proved useful. Selecting eight of the most intelligent
from among them, including five women, he supplied them with
Testaments and instructions to vend the books in all the parishes of
Madrid, with the result that in the course of about a fortnight 600
copies were disposed of in the streets and alleys. A house to house
canvass was instituted with remarkable results, for manservant and
maidservant bought eagerly of the books. Antonio excelled himself
and made some amends for his flight from Labajos, when, like a
torrent, the Carlist cavalry descended upon it. Dark Madrid was
becoming illuminated with a flood of Scriptural light. In two of its
churches the New Testament was expounded every Sunday evening.
Bibles were particularly in demand, a hundred being sold in about
three weeks. The demand exceeded the supply. "The Marques de Santa
Coloma," Borrow wrote, "has a large family, but every individual of
it, old or young, is now in possession of a Bible and likewise of a
Testament." {288b}

Borrow appears to have enlisted the aid of other distributors than
the eight colporteurs. One of his most zealous agents was an
ecclesiastic, who always carried with him beneath his gown a copy of
the Bible, which he offered to the first person he encountered whom
he thought likely to become a purchaser. Yet another assistant was
found in a rich old gentleman of Navarre, who sent copies to his own
province.

One night after having retired to bed, Borrow received a visit from a
curious, hobgoblin-like person, who gave him grave, official warning
that unless he present himself before the corregidor on the morrow at
eleven A.M., he must be prepared to take the consequences. The hour
chosen for this intimation was midnight. On the next day at the
appointed time Borrow presented himself before the corregidor, who
announced that he wished to ask a question. The question related to
a box of Testaments that Borrow had sent to Naval Carnero, which had
been seized and subsequently claimed on Borrow's behalf by Antonio.
In Spain they have the dramatic instinct. If it strike the majestic
mind of a corregidor at midnight that he would like to see a citizen
or a stranger on the morrow about some trifling affair, time or place
are not permitted to interfere with the conveyance of the intimation
to the citizen or stranger to present himself before the gravely
austere official, who will carry out the interrogation with a
solemnity becoming a capital charge.

By the middle of April barely a thousand Testaments remained; these
Borrow determined to distribute in Seville. Sending Antonio, the
Testaments and two horses with the convoy, Borrow decided to risk
travelling with the Mail Courier. For one thing, he disliked the
slowness of a convoy, and for another the insults and irritations
that travellers had to put up with from the escort, both officers and
men. His original plan had been to proceed by Estremadura; but a
band of Carlist robbers had recently made its appearance, murdering
or holding at ransom every person who fell into its clutches. Borrow
wrote:-

"I therefore deem it wise to avoid, if possible, the alternative of
being shot or having to pay one thousand pounds for being set at
liberty . . . It is moreover wicked to tempt Providence
systematically. I have already thrust myself into more danger than
was, perhaps, strictly necessary, and as I have been permitted
hitherto to escape, it is better to be content with what it has
pleased the Lord to do for me up to the present moment, than to run
the risk of offending Him by a blind confidence in His forbearance,
which may be over-taxed. As it is, however, at all times best to be
frank, I am willing to confess that I am what the world calls
exceedingly superstitious; perhaps the real cause of my change of
resolution was a dream, in which I imagined myself on a desolate road
in the hands of several robbers, who were hacking me with their long,
ugly knives." {290a}

In the same letter, which was so to incur Mr Brandram's disapproval,
Borrow tells of the excellent results of his latest plan for
disposing of Bibles and Testaments, three hundred and fifty of the
former having been sold since he reached Spain. He goes on to
explain and expound the difficulties that have been met and overcome,
and hopes that his friends at Earl Street will be patient, as it may
not be in his power to send "for a long time any flattering accounts
of operations commenced there." In conclusion, he assures Mr
Brandram that from the Church of Rome he has learned one thing, "EVER
TO EXPECT EVIL, AND EVER TO HOPE FOR GOOD."

Nothing could have been more unfortunate than the effect produced
upon Mr Brandram's mind by this letter.

"I scarcely know what to say," he writes. "You are in a very
peculiar country; you are doubtless a man of very peculiar
temperament, and we must not apply common rules in judging either of
yourself or your affairs. What, e.g., shall we say to your
confession of a certain superstitiousness? It is very frank of you
to tell us what you need not have told; but it sounded very odd when
read aloud in a large Committee. Strangers that know you not would
carry away strange ideas . . . In bespeaking our patience, there is
an implied contrast between your own mode of proceeding and that
adopted by others--a contrast this a little to the disadvantage of
others, and savouring a little of the praise of a personage called
number one . . . Perhaps my vanity is offended, and I feel as if I
were not esteemed a person of sufficient discernment to know enough
of the real state of Spain . . .

"Bear with me now in my criticisms on your second letter [that of 2nd
May]. You narrate your perilous journey to Seville, and say at the
beginning of the description: 'My usual wonderful good fortune
accompanying us.' This is a mode of speaking to which we are not
well accustomed; it savours, some of our friends would say, a little
of the profane. Those who know you will not impute this to you. But
you must remember that our Committee Room is public to a great
extent, and I cannot omit expressions as I go reading on. Pious
sentiments may be thrust into letters ad nauseam, and it is not for
that I plead; but is there not a via media? "We are odd people, it
may be, in England; we are not fond of prophets or 'prophetesses' [a
reference to her of La Mancha about whom Borrow had previously been
rebuked]. I have not turned back to your former description of the
lady whom you have a second time introduced to our notice. Perhaps
my wounded pride had not been made whole after the infliction you
before gave it by contrasting the teacher of the prophetess with
English rectors."

Borrow replied to this letter from Seville on 28th June, and there
are indications that before doing so he took time to deliberate upon
it.

"Think not, I pray you," he wrote, "that any observation of yours
respecting style, or any peculiarities of expression which I am in
the habit of exhibiting in my correspondence, can possibly awaken in
me any feeling but that of gratitude, knowing so well as I do the
person who offers them, and the motives by which he is influenced. I
have reflected on those passages which you were pleased to point out
as objectionable, and have nothing to reply further than that I have
erred, that I am sorry, and will endeavour to mend, and that,
moreover, I have already prayed for assistance to do so. Allow me,
however, to offer a word, not in excuse but in explanation of the
expression 'wonderful good fortune' which appeared in a former letter
of mine. It is clearly objectionable, and, as you very properly
observe, savours of pagan times. But I am sorry to say that I am
much in the habit of repeating other people's sayings without
weighing their propriety. The saying was not mine; but I heard it in
conversation and thoughtlessly repeated it. A few miles from Seville
I was telling the Courier of the many perilous journeys which I had
accomplished in Spain in safety, and for which I thank the Lord. His
reply was, 'La mucha suerte de Usted tambien nos ha acompanado en
este viage." {292a}

Thus ended another unfortunate misunderstanding between secretary and
agent.

Borrow had taken considerable risk in making the journey to Seville
with the Courier. The whole of La Mancha was overrun with the
Carlist-banditti, who, "whenever it pleases them, stop the Courier,
burn the vehicle and letters, murder the paltry escort which attends,
and carry away any chance passenger to the mountains, where an
enormous ransom is demanded, which if not paid brings on the dilemma
of four shots through the head, as the Spaniards say." The Courier's
previous journey over the same route had ended in the murder of the
escort and the burning of the coach, the Courier himself escaping
through the good offices of one of the bandits, who had formerly been
his postilion. Borrow was shown the blood-soaked turf and the skull
of one of the soldiers. At Manzanares, Borrow invited to breakfast
with him the Prophetess who was so unpopular at Earl Street.
Continuing the journey, he reached Seville without mishap, and a few
days later Antonio arrived with the horses. It was found that the
two cases of Testaments that had been forwarded from Madrid had been
stopped at the Seville Customs House, and Borrow had recourse to
subterfuge in order to get them and save his journey from being in
vain.

"For a few dollars," he tells Mr Brandram (2nd May), "I procured a
fiador or person who engaged THAT THE CHESTS should be carried down
the river and embarked at San Lucar for a foreign land. Yesterday I
hired a boat and sent them down, but on the way I landed in a secure
place all the Testaments which I intend for this part of the
country."

The fiador had kept to the letter of his undertaking, and the chests
were duly delivered at San Lucar; but a considerable portion of their
contents, some two hundred Testaments, had been abstracted, and these
had to be smuggled into Seville under the cloaks of master and
servant. The officials appear to have treated Borrow with the
greatest possible courtesy and consideration, and they told him that
his "intentions were known and honored."

Borrow had great hopes of achieving something for the Gospel's sake
in Seville; but the operation would be a delicate one. To Mr
Brandram he wrote:-

"Consider my situation here. I am in a city by nature very
Levitical, as it contains within it the most magnificent and
splendidly endowed cathedral of any in Spain. I am surrounded by
priests and friars, who know and hate me, and who, if I commit the
slightest act of indiscretion, will halloo their myrmidons against
me. The press is closed to me, the libraries are barred against me,
I have no one to assist me but my hired servant, no pious English
families to comfort or encourage me, the British subjects here being
ranker papists and a hundred times more bigoted than the Spanish
themselves, the Consul, a RENEGADE QUAKER. Yet notwithstanding, with
God's assistance, I will do much, though silently, burrowing like the
mole in darkness beneath the ground. Those who have triumphed in
Madrid, and in the two Castiles, where the difficulties were seven
times greater, are not to be dismayed by priestly frowns at Seville."
{293a}

On arriving at Seville Borrow had put up at the Posada de la Reyna,
in the Calle Gimios, and here on 4th May (he had arrived about 24th
April) he encountered Lieut.-Colonel Elers Napier. Borrow liked
nothing so well as appearing in the role of a mysterious stranger.
He loved mystery as much as a dramatic moment. His admiration of
Baron Taylor was largely based upon the innumerable conjectures as to
who it was that surrounded his puzzling personality with such an air
of mystery. That May morning Colonel Napier, who was also staying at
the Posada de la Reyna, was wandering about the galleries overlooking
the patio. He writes:-

"whilst occupied in moralising over the dripping water spouts, I
observed a tall, gentlemanly-looking man dressed in a semarra
[zamarra, a sheepskin jacket with the wool outside] leaning over the
balustrades and apparently engaged in a similar manner with myself .
. . From the stranger's complexion, which was fair, but with
brilliant black eyes, I concluded he was not a Spaniard; in short,
there was something so remarkable in his appearance that it was
difficult to say to what nation he might belong. He was tall, with a
commanding appearance; yet, though apparently in the flower of
manhood, his hair was so deeply tinged with the winter of either age
or sorrow as to be nearly snow white." {294a}

Colonel Napier was thoroughly mystified. The stranger answered his
French in "the purest Parisian Accent"; yet he proved capable of
speaking fluent English, of giving orders to his Greek servant in
Romaic, of conversing "in good Castillian with 'mine host'," and of
exchanging salutations in German with another resident at the fonda.
Later the Colonel had the gratification of startling the Unknown by
replying to some remark of his in Hindi; but only momentarily, for he
showed himself "delighted on finding I was an Indian, and entered
freely, and with depth and acuteness, on the affairs of the East,
most of which part of the world he had visited." {294b}

No one could give any information about "the mysterious Unknown," who
or what he was, or why he was travelling. It was known that the
police entertained suspicions that he was a Russian spy, and kept him
under strict observation. Whatever else he was, Colonel Napier found
him "a very agreeable companion." {295a}

On the following morning (a Sunday) Colonel Napier and his Unknown
set out on horseback on an excursion to the ruins of Italica. As
they sat on a ruined wall of the Convent of San Isidoro,
contemplating the scene of ruin and desolation around, "the 'Unknown'
began to feel the vein of poetry creeping through his inward soul,
and gave vent to it by reciting with great emphasis and effect" some
lines that the scene called up to his mind.

"I had been too much taken up with the scene," Colonel Napier
continues, "the verses, and the strange being who was repeating them
with so much feeling, to notice the approach of a slight female
figure, beautiful in the extreme, but whose tattered garments, raven
hair, swarthy complexion and flashing eyes proclaimed to be of the
wandering tribe of Gitanos. From an intuitive sense of politeness,
she stood with crossed arms and a slight smile on her dark and
handsome countenance until my companion had ceased, and then
addressed us in the usual whining tone of supplication--
'Caballeritos, una limosnita! Dios se la pagara a ustedes!'--
'Gentlemen, a little charity; God will repay it to you!' The gypsy
girl was so pretty and her voice so sweet, that I involuntarily put
my hand in my pocket.

"'Stop!' said the Unknown. 'Do you remember what I told you about
the Eastern origin of these people? You shall see I am correct.'--
'Come here, my pretty child,' said he in Moultanee, 'and tell me
where are the rest of your tribe.'

"The girl looked astounded, replied in the same tongue, but in broken
language; when, taking him by the arm, she said in Spanish, 'Come,
cabellero--come to one who will be able to answer you'; and she led
the way down amongst the ruins, towards one of the dens formerly
occupied by the wild beasts, and disclosed to us a set of beings
scarcely less savage. The sombre walls of the gloomy abode were
illumined by a fire the smoke from which escaped through a deep
fissure in the mossy roof; whilst the flickering flames threw a
blood-red glare on the bronzed features of a group of children, of
two men, and a decrepit old hag, who appeared busily engaged in some
culinary preparations.

"On our entrance, the scowling glance of the males of the party, and
a quick motion of the hand towards the folds of the 'faja' [a sash in
which the Spaniard carries a formidable clasp-knife] caused in me, at
least, anything but a comfortable sensation; but their hostile
intentions, if ever entertained, were immediately removed by a wave
of the hand from our conductress, who, leading my companion towards
the sibyl, whispered something in her ear. The old crone appeared
incredulous. The 'Unknown' uttered one word; but that word had the
effect of magic; she prostrated herself at his feet, and in an
instant, from an object of suspicion he became one of worship to the
whole family, to whom, on taking leave, he made a handsome present,
and departed with their united blessings, to the astonishment of
myself and what looked very like terror in our Spanish guide.

"I was, as the phrase goes, dying with curiosity, and as soon as we
mounted our horses, exclaimed--'Where, in the name of goodness, did
you pick up your acquaintance with the language of those
extraordinary people?'

"'Some years ago, in Moultan,' he replied.

"'And by what means do you possess such apparent influence over
them?' But the 'Unknown' had already said more than he perhaps
wished on the subject. He drily replied that he had more than once
owed his life to gypsies, and had reason to know them well; but this
was said in a tone which precluded all further queries on my part.
The subject was never again broached, and we returned in silence to
the fonda . . . This is a most extraordinary character, and the more
I see of him the more am I puzzled. He appears acquainted with
everybody and everything, but apparently unknown to every one
himself. Though his figure bespeaks youth--and by his own account
his age does not exceed thirty [he would be thirty-six in the
following July]--yet the snows of eighty winters could not have
whitened his locks more completely than they are. But in his dark
and searching eye there is an almost supernatural penetration and
lustre, which, were I inclined to superstition, might induce me to
set down its possessor as a second Melmoth." {297a}

CHAPTER XIX: MAY-DECEMBER 1839

Borrow confesses that he was at a loss to know how to commence
operations in Seville. He was entirely friendless, even the British
Consul being unapproachable on account of his religious beliefs.
However, he soon gathered round him some of those curious characters
who seemed always to gravitate towards him, no matter where he might
be, or with what occupied. Surely the Scriptures never had such a
curious assortment of missionaries as Borrow employed? At Seville
there was the gigantic Greek, Dionysius of Cephalonia; the "aged
professor of music, who, with much stiffness and ceremoniousness,
united much that was excellent and admirable"; {298a} the Greek
bricklayer, Johannes Chysostom, a native of Morea, who might at any
time become "the Masaniello of Seville." With these assistants
Borrow set to work to throw the light of the Gospel into the dark
corners of the city.

Soon after arriving at Seville, he decided to adopt a new plan of
living.

"On account of the extreme dearness of every article at the posada,"
he wrote to Mr Brandram on 12th June, "where, moreover, I had a
suspicion that I was being watched [this may have reference to the
police suspicion that he was a Russian spy], I removed with my
servant and horses to an empty house in a solitary part of the town .
. . Here I live in the greatest privacy, admitting no person but two
or three in whom I had the greatest confidence, who entertain the
same views as myself, and who assist me in the circulation of the
Gospel."

The house stood in a solitary situation, occupying one side of the
Plazuela de la Pila Seca (the Little Square of the Empty Trough). It
was a two-storied building and much too large for Borrow's
requirements. Having bought the necessary articles of furniture, he
retired behind the shutters of his Andalusian mansion with Antonio
and the two horses. He lived in the utmost seclusion, spending a
large portion of his time in study or in dreamy meditation. "The
people here complain sadly of the heat," he writes to Mr Brandram
(28th June 1839), "but as for myself, I luxuriate in it, like the
butterflies which hover about the macetas, or flowerpots, in the
court." In the cool of the evening he would mount Sidi Habismilk and
ride along the Dehesa until the topmost towers of the city were out
of sight, then, turning the noble Arab, he would let him return at
his best speed, which was that of the whirlwind.

Throughout his work in Spain Borrow had been seriously handicapped by
being unable to satisfy the demand for Bibles that met him everywhere
he went. In a letter (June) from Maria Diaz, who was acting as his
agent in Madrid, {299a} the same story is told.

"The binder has brought me eight Bibles," she writes, "which he has
contrived to make up out of THE SHEETS GNAWN BY THE RATS, and which
would have been necessary even had they amounted to eight thousand (y
era necesario se puvieran vuelto 8000), because the people are
innumerable who come to seek more. Don Santiago has been here with
some friends, who insisted upon having a part of them. The Aragonese
Gentleman has likewise been, he who came before your departure, and
bespoke twenty-four; he now wants twenty-five. I begged them to take
Testaments, but they would not." {300a}

The Greek bricklayer proved a most useful agent. His great influence
with his poor acquaintances resulted in the sale of many Testaments.
More could have been done had it not been necessary to proceed with
extreme caution, lest the authorities should take action and seize
the small stock of books that remained.

When he took and furnished the large house in the little square,
there had been in Borrow's mind another reason than a desire for
solitude and freedom from prying eyes. Throughout his labours in
Spain he had kept up a correspondence with Mrs Clarke of Oulton, who,
on 15th March, had written informing him of her intention to take up
her abode for a short time at Seville.

For some time previously Mrs Clarke had been having trouble about her
estate. Her mother (September 1835) and father (February 1836) were
both dead, and her brother Breame had inherited the estate and she
the mortgage together with the Cottage on Oulton Broad. Breame
Skepper died (May 1837), leaving a wife and six children. In his
will he had appointed Trustees, who demanded the sale of the Estate
and division of the money, which was opposed by Mrs Clarke as
executrix and mortgagee. Later it was agreed between the parties
that the Estate should be sold for 11,000 pounds to a Mr Joseph Cator
Webb, and an agreement to that effect was signed. Anticipating that
the Estate would increase in value, and apparently regretting their
bargain, the Trustees delayed carrying out their undertaking, and Mr
Webb filed a bill in Chancery to force them to do so. Mrs Clarke's
legal advisers thought it better that she should disappear for a
time. Hence her letter to Borrow, in replying to which (29th March),
he expresses pleasure at the news of his friend's determination "to
settle in Seville for a short time--which, I assure you, I consider
to be the most agreeable retreat you can select . . . for THERE the
growls of your enemies will scarcely reach you." He goes on to tell
her that he laughed outright at the advice of her counsellor not to
take a house and furnish it.

"Houses in Spain are let by the day: and in a palace here you will
find less furniture than in your cottage at Oulton. Were you to
furnish a Spanish house in the style of cold, wintry England, you
would be unable to breathe. A few chairs, tables, and mattresses are
all that is required, with of course a good stock of bed-linen . . .

"Bring with you, therefore, your clothes, plenty of bed-linen, etc.,
half-a-dozen blankets, two dozen knives and forks, a mirror or two,
twelve silver table spoons, and a large one for soup, tea things and
urn (for the Spaniards never drink tea), a few books, but not many,--
and you will have occasion for nothing more, or, if you have, you can
purchase it here as cheap as in England."

Borrow's ideas of domestic comfort were those of the old campaigner.
For all that, he showed himself very thorough in the directions he
gave as to how and where Mrs Clarke should book her passage and
obtain "a passport for yourself and Hen." (Henrietta her daughter,
now nearly twenty years of age), and the warning he gave that no
attempt should be made to go ashore at Lisbon, "a very dangerous
place."

On 7th June Mrs Clarke and her daughter Henrietta sailed from London
on board the steam-packet Royal Tar bound for Cadiz, where they
arrived on the 16th, and, on the day following, entered into
possession of their temporary home where Borrow was already
installed, safe for the time from Mr Webb's Chancery bill. It was no
doubt to Mrs and Miss Clarke that Borrow referred when he wrote to Mr
Brandram {301a} saying that "two or three ladies of my acquaintance
occasionally dispose of some [Testaments] amongst their friends, but
they say that they experience some difficulty, the cry for Bibles
being great."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37