When Borrow entered Spain she was in the throes of civil war. In 1814 British blood and British money had restored to the throne Ferdinand VII., who, immediately he found himself secure, and forgetting his pledges to govern constitutionally, dissolved the Cortes and became an absolute monarch. All the old abuses were revived, including the re-establishment of the Inquisition. For six years the people suffered their King’s tyranny, then they revolted, with the result that Ferdinand, bending to the wind, accepted a re-imposition of the Constitution. In 1823 a French Army occupied Madrid in support of Ferdinand, who promptly reverted to absolutism.

In 1829 Ferdinand married for the fourth time, and, on the birth of a daughter, declared that the Salic law had no effect in Spain, and the young princess was recognised as heir-apparent to the throne. This drew from his brother, Don Carlos, who immediately left the country, a protest against his exclusion from the succession. When his daughter was four years of age, Ferdinand died, and the child was proclaimed Queen as Isabel II.

A bitter war broke out between the respective adherents of the Queen and her uncle Don Carlos. Prisoners and wounded were massacred without discrimination, and an uncivilised and barbarous warfare waged when Borrow crossed the Portuguese frontier “to undertake the adventure of Spain.”

Spain had always appealed most strongly to Borrow’s imagination.

“In the day-dreams of my boyhood,” he writes, “Spain always bore a considerable share, and I took a particular interest in her, without any presentiment that I should, at a future time, be called upon to take a part, however humble, in her strange dramas; which interest, at a very early period, led me to acquire her noble language, and to make myself acquainted with the literature (scarcely worthy of the language), her history and traditions; so that when I entered Spain for the first time I felt more at home than I should otherwise have done.” [164a]

Whilst standing at the door of the Inn of the Three Nations on the day following his arrival at Badajos, meditating upon the deplorable state of the country he had just entered, Borrow recognised in the face of one of two men who were about to pass him the unmistakable lineaments of Egypt. Uttering “a certain word,” he received the reply he expected and forthwith engaged in conversation with the two men, who both proved to be gypsies. These men spread the news abroad that staying at the Inn of the Three Nations was a man who spoke Romany. “In less than half an hour the street before the inn was filled with the men, women, and children of Egypt.” Borrow went out amongst them, and confesses that “so much vileness, dirt, and misery I had never seen among a similar number of human beings; but worst of all was the evil expression of their countenances.” [164b] He soon discovered that their faces were an accurate index to their hearts, which were capable of every species of villainy. The gypsies clustered round him, fingering his hands, face and clothes, as if he were a holy man.

Gypsies had always held for Borrow a strange attraction, [164c] and he determined to prolong his stay at Badajos in order that he might have an opportunity of becoming “better acquainted with their condition and manners, and above all to speak to them of Christ and His Word; for I was convinced, that should I travel to the end of the universe, I should meet with no people more in need of a little Christian exhortation.” [165a]

Intimate though his acquaintance with the gypsies of other countries had been, Borrow was aghast at the depravity of those of Spain. The men were drunkards, brigands, and murderers; the women unchaste, and inveterate thieves. Their language was terrifying in its foulness. They seemed to have no religion save a misty glimmering of metempsychosis, which had come down to them through the centuries, and having been very wicked in this world they asked, with some show of reason, why they should live again. They were incorrigible heathens, keenly interested in the demonstration that their language was capable of being written and read, but untouched by the parables of Lazarus or the Prodigal Son, which Borrow read and expounded to them. “Brother,” exclaimed one woman, “you tell us strange things, though perhaps you do not lie; a month since I would sooner have believed these tales, than that this day I should see one who could read Romany.” [165b]

Neither by exhortation nor by translating into Romany a portion of the Gospel of St Luke could Borrow make any impression upon the minds of the gypsies, therefore when one of them, Antonio by name, announced that “the affairs of Egypt” called for his presence “on the frontiers of Costumbra,” and that he and Borrow might as well journey thus far together, he decided to avail himself of the opportunity. It was arranged that Borrow’s luggage should be sent on ahead, for, as Antonio said, “How the BusnÉ [the Spaniards] on the road would laugh if they saw two CalÉs [Gypsies] with luggage behind them.” [166a] Thus it came about that an agent of the British and Foreign Bible Society, mounted upon a most uncouth horse “of a spectral white, short in the body, but with remarkably long legs” and high in the withers, set out from Badajos on 16th January 1836, escorted by a smuggler astride a mule; for the affairs of Egypt on this occasion were the evasion of the Customs dues.

Towards evening on the first day the curiously assorted pair arrived at MÉrida, and proceeded to a large and ruinous house, a portion of which was occupied by some connections of the gypsy Antonio’s. In the large hall of the old mansion they camped, and here, acting on the gypsy’s advice, Borrow remained for three days. Antonio himself was absent from early morning until late at night, occupied with his own affairs. [166b]

The fourth night was spent in the forest by the campfire of some more of Antonio’s friends. On one occasion, but for the fortunate possession of a passport, the affairs of Egypt would have involved Borrow in some difficulties with the authorities. At another time, for safety’s sake, he had to part from Antonio and proceed on his way alone, picking up the contrabandista further on the road.

When some distance beyond JaraicÉjo, it was discovered that the affairs of Egypt had ended disastrously in the discomfiture and capture of Antonio’s friends by the authorities. The news was brought by the gypsy’s daughter. Antonio must return at once, and as the steed Borrow was riding, which belonged to Antonio, would be required by him, Borrow purchased the daughter’s donkey, and having said good-bye to the smuggler, he continued his journey alone.

By way of AlmarÁz and OropÉsa Borrow eventually reached TalavÉra (24th Jan.). On the advice of a Toledo Jew, with whom he had become acquainted during the last stage of his journey, he decided to take the diligence from TalavÉra to Madrid, the more willingly because the Jew amiably offered to purchase the donkey. On the evening of 25th Jan. Borrow accordingly took his place on the diligence, and reached the capital the next morning.

On arriving at Madrid, Borrow first went to a Posada; but a few days later he removed to lodgings in the Calle de la Zarza (the Street of the Brambles),—“A dark and dirty street, which, however, was close to the Puerta del Sol, the most central point of Madrid, into which four or five of the principal streets debouche, and which is, at all times of the year, the great place of assemblage for the idlers of the capital, poor or rich.” [167a]

The capital did not at first impress Borrow very favourably. [167b] “Madrid is a small town,” he wrote to his mother, [167c] “not larger than Norwich, but it is crammed with people, like a hive with bees, and it contains many fine streets and fountains . . . Everything in Madrid is excessively dear to foreigners, for they are made to pay six times more than natives . . . I manage to get on tolerably well, for I make a point of paying just one quarter of what I am asked.”

He suffered considerably from the frost and cold. From the snow-covered mountains that surround the city there descend in winter such cold blasts “that the body is drawn up like a leaf.” [167d] Then again there were the physical discomforts that he had to endure.

“You cannot think,” he wrote, [168a] “what a filthy, uncivilised set of people the Spanish and Portuguese are. There is more comfort in an English barn than in one of their palaces; and they are rude and ill-bred to a surprising degree.”

Borrow was angry with Spain, possibly for being so unlike his “dear and glorious Russia.” He saw in it a fertile and beautiful country, inhabited by a set of beings that were not human, “almost as bad as the Irish, with the exception that they are not drunkards.” [168b] They were a nation of thieves and extortioners, who regarded the foreigner as their legitimate prey. Even his own servant was “the greatest thief and villain that ever existed; who, if I would let him, would steal the teeth out of my head,” [168c] and who seems actually to have destroyed some of his master’s letters for the sake of the postage. Being forced to call upon various people whose addresses he did not know, Borrow found it necessary to keep the man, in spite of his thievish proclivities, for he was clever, and had he been dismissed his place would, in all probability, have been taken by an even greater rogue.

At night he never went out, for the streets were thronged with hundreds of people of the rival factions, bent on “cutting and murdering one another; . . . for every Spaniard is by nature a cruel, cowardly tiger. Nothing is more common than to destroy a whole town, putting man, woman, and child to death, because two or three of the inhabitants have been obnoxious.” [168d] Thus he wrote to his mother, all-unconscious of the anxiety and alarm that he was causing her lest he, her dear George, should be one of the cut or murdered.

Later, Borrow seems to have revised his opinion of Madrid and of its inhabitants. He confesses that of all the cities he has known Madrid interested him the most, not on account of its public buildings, squares or fountains, for these are surpassed in other cities; but because of its population. “Within a mud wall scarcely one league and a half in circuit, are contained two hundred thousand human beings, certainly forming the most extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world.” [169] In the upper classes he had little interest. He mixed but little with them, and what he saw did not impress him favourably. It was the Spaniard of the lower orders that attracted him. He regarded this class as composed not of common beings, but of extraordinary men. He admired their spirit of proud independence, and forgave them their ignorance. His first impressions of Spain had been unfavourable because, as a stranger, he had been victimised by the amiable citizens, who were merely doing as their fathers had done before them. Once, however, he got to know them, he regarded with more indulgence their constitutional dishonesty towards the stranger, a weakness they possessed in common with the gypsies, and hailed them as “extraordinary men.” Borrow’s impulsiveness frequently led him to ill-considered and hasty conclusions, which, however, he never hesitated to correct, if he saw need for correction.

The disappointment he experienced as regards Madrid and the Spaniards is not difficult to understand. He arrived quite friendless and without letters of introduction, to find the city given over to the dissensions and strifes of the supporters of Isabel II. and Don Carlos. His journey had been undertaken in “the hope of obtaining permission from the Government to print the New Testament in the Castilian language, without the notes insisted on by the Spanish clergy, for circulation in Spain,” and there seemed small chance of those responsible for the direction of affairs listening to the application of a foreigner for permission to print the unannotated Scriptures. For one thing, any acquiescence in such a suggestion would draw forth from the priesthood bitter reproaches and, most probably, active and serious opposition. It is only natural that despondency should occasionally seize upon him who sought to light the lamp of truth amidst such tempests.

George Villiers, Fourth Earl of Clarendon. British Minister at Madrid, 1833–1839. From the engraving after Sir Francis Grant in the National Portrait Gallery

The man to approach was the premier, Juan Álvarez y MendizÁbal, [170a] a Christianised Jew. He was enormously powerful, and Borrow decided to appeal to him direct; for, armed with the approval of MendizÁbal, no one would dare to interfere with his plans or proceedings. Borrow made several attempts to see MendizÁbal, who “was considered as a man of almost unbounded power, in whose hands were placed the destinies of the country.” Without interest or letters of introduction, he found it utterly impossible to obtain an audience. Recollecting the assistance he had received from the Hon. J. D. Bligh at St Petersburg, Borrow determined to make himself known to the British Minister at Madrid, the Hon. George Villiers, [170b] and, “with the freedom permitted to a British subject . . . ask his advice in the affair.” Borrow was received with great kindness, and, after conversing upon various topics for some time, he introduced the subject of his visit. Mr Villiers willingly undertook to help him as far as lay in his power, and promised to endeavour to procure for him an audience with the Premier. In this he was successful, and Borrow had an interview with MendizÁbal, who was almost inaccessible to all but the few.

At eight o’clock on the morning of 7th February Borrow presented himself at the palace, where MendizÁbal resided, and after waiting for about three hours, was admitted to the presence of the Prime Minister of Spain, whom he found—“A huge athletic man, somewhat taller than myself, who measure six foot two without my shoes. His complexion was florid, his features fine and regular, his nose quite aquiline, and his teeth splendidly white; though scarcely fifty years of age, his hair was remarkably grey. He was dressed in a rich morning gown, with a gold chain round his neck, and morocco slippers on his feet.” [171]

Borrow began by assuring MendizÁbal that he was labouring under a grave error in thinking that the Bible Society had sought to influence unduly the slaves of Cuba, that they had not sent any agents there, and they were not in communication with any of the residents. Mr Villiers had warned Borrow that the premier was very angry on account of reports that had reached him of the action in Cuba of certain people whom he insisted were sent there by the Bible Society. In vain Borrow suggested that the disturbers of the tranquillity of Spain’s beneficent rule in the Island were in no way connected with Earl Street; he was several times interrupted by MendizÁbal, who insisted that he had documentary proof. Borrow with difficulty restrained himself from laughing in the premier s face. He pointed out that the Committee was composed of quiet, respectable English gentlemen, who attended to their own concerns and gave a little of their time to the affairs of the Bible Society.

On Borrow asking for permission to print at Madrid the New Testament in Spanish without notes, he was met with an unequivocal refusal. In spite of his arguments that the whole tenor of the work was against bloodshedding and violence, he could not shake the premier’s opinion that it was “an improper book.”

At first Borrow had experienced some difficulty in explaining himself, on account of the Spaniard’s habit of persistent interruption, and at last he was forced in self-defence to hold on in spite of MendizÁbal’s remarks. The upshot of the interview was that he was told to renew his application when the Carlists had been beaten and the country was at peace. Borrow then asked permission to introduce into Spain a few copies of the New Testament in the Catalan dialect, but was refused. He next requested to be allowed to call on the following day and submit a copy of the Catalan edition, and received the remarkable reply that the prime-minister refused his offer to call lest he should succeed in convincing him, and MendizÁbal did not wish to be convinced. This seemed to show that the MendizÁbal was something of a philosopher and a little of a humorist.

With this Borrow had to be content, and after an hour’s interview he withdrew. The premier was unquestionably in a difficult position. On the one hand, he no doubt desired to assist a man introduced to him by the representative of Great Britain, to whom he looked for assistance in suppressing Carlism; on the other hand, he had the priesthood to consider, and they would without question use every means of which they stood possessed to preserve the prohibition against the dissemination of the Scriptures, without notes, a prohibition that had become almost a tradition.

But Borrow was not discouraged. He wrote in a most hopeful strain that he foresaw the speedy and successful termination of the Society’s negotiations in the Peninsula. He looked forward to the time when only an agent would be required to superintend the engagement of colporteurs, and to make arrangements with the booksellers. He proceeds to express a hope that his exertions have given satisfaction to the Society.

Borrow received an encouraging letter from Mr Brandram, telling him of the Committee’s appreciation of his work, but practically leaving with him the decision as to his future movements. They were inclined to favour a return to Lisbon, but recognised that “in these wondrous days opportunities may open unexpectedly.” In the matter of the Gospel of St Luke in Spanish Romany, the publication of extracts was authorised, but there was no enthusiasm for the project. “We say,” wrote Mr Brandram, “festina lente. You will be doing well to occupy leisure hours with this work; but we are not prepared for printing anything beyond portions at present.”

In the meantime, however, an article in the Madrid newspaper, El EspaÑol, upon the history, aims, and achievements of the British and Foreign Bible Society, had determined Borrow to remain on at Madrid for a few weeks at least.

“Why should Spain, which has explored the New World, why should she alone be destitute of Bible Societies,” asked the EspaÑol. “Why should a nation eminently Catholic continue isolated from the rest of Europe, without joining in the magnificent enterprise in which the latter is so busily engaged?” [173a]

This article fired Borrow, and with the promise of assistance from the liberal-minded EspaÑol, he set to work “to lay the foundation of a Bible Society at Madrid.” [173b] As a potential head of the Spanish organization, Borrow’s eyes were already directed towards the person of “a certain Bishop, advanced in years, a person of great piety and learning, who has himself translated the New Testament” [173c] and who was disposed to print and circulate it.

Nothing, however, came of the project. Mr Brandram wrote to Borrow:—“With regard to forming a Bible Society in Madrid, and appointing Dr Usoz Secretary, it is so out of our usual course that the Committee, for various reasons, cannot comply with your wishes—of the desirableness of forming such a Society at present, you and your friend must be the best judges. If it is to be an independent society, as I suppose must be the case,” Mr Brandram continues, and the Bible Society’s aid or that of its agent is sought, the new Society must be formed on the principles of the British and Foreign Bible Society, admitting, “on the one hand, general cooperation, and on the other, that it does not circulate Apocryphal Bibles.” There was doubt at Earl Street as to whether the time was yet ripe; so the decision was very properly left with Borrow, and he was told that he “need not fear to hold out great hopes of encouragement in the event of the formation of such a Society.” [174]

A serious difficulty now arose in the resignation of MendizÁbal (March 1836). Two of his friends and supporters, in the persons of Francisco de Isturitz and Alcala Galiano, seceded from his party, and, under the name of moderados, formed an opposition to their Chief in the Cortes. They had the support of the Queen Regent and General Cordova, whom MendizÁbal had wished to remove from his position as head of the army on account of his great popularity with the soldiers, whose comforts and interests he studied. Isturitz became Premier, Galiano Minister of Marine (a mere paper title, as there was no navy at the time), and the Duke of Rivas Minister of the Interior.

Conscious of the advantage of possessing powerful friends, especially in a country such as Spain, Borrow had used every endeavour to enlarge the circle of his acquaintance among men occupying influential positions, or likely to succeed those who at present filled them. The result was that he was able to announce to Mr Brandram that the new ministry, which had been formed, was composed “entirely of my friends.” [175a] With Galiano in particular he was on very intimate terms. Everything promised well, and the new Cabinet showed itself most friendly to Borrow and his projects, until the actual moment arrived for writing the permission to print the Scriptures in Spanish. Then doubts arose, and the decrees of the Council of Trent loomed up, a threatening barrier, in the eyes of the Duke of Rivas and his secretary.

So hopeful was Borrow after his first interview with the Duke that he wrote:—“I shall receive the permission, the Lord willing, in a few days . . . The last skirts of the cloud of papal superstition are vanishing below the horizon of Spain; whoever says the contrary either knows nothing of the matter or wilfully hides the truth.” [175b]

At Earl Street the good news about the article in the EspaÑol gave the liveliest satisfaction. “Surely a new and wonderful thing in Spain,” wrote Mr Brandram [175c] in a letter in which he urged Borrow to “guard against becoming too much committed to one political party,” and asked him to write more frequently, as his letters were always most welcome. This letter reached Madrid at a time when Borrow found himself absolutely destitute.

“For the last three weeks,” he writes, [175d] “I have been without money, literally without a farthing.” Everything in Madrid was so dear. A month previously he had been forced to pay £12, 5s. for a suit of clothes, “my own being so worn that it was impossible to appear longer in public with them.” [175e] He had written to Mr Wilby, but in all probability his letter had gone astray, the post to Estremadura having been three times robbed. “The money may still come,” he continues, [176a] “but I have given up all hopes of it, and I am compelled to write home, though what I am to do till I can receive your answer I am at a loss to conceive . . . whatever I undergo, I shall tell nobody of my situation, it might hurt the Society and our projects here. I know enough of the world to be aware that it is considered as the worst of crimes to be without money.” [176b]

For weeks Borrow devoted himself to the task of endeavouring to obtain permission to print the Scriptures in Spanish. The Duke of Rivas referred him to his secretary, saying, “He will do for you what you want!” But the secretary retreated behind the decrees of the Council of Trent. Then Mr Villiers intervened, saw the Duke and gave Borrow a letter to him. Again the Council of Trent proved to be the obstacle. Galiano took up the matter and escorted Borrow to the Bureau of the Interior, and had an interview with the Duke’s secretary. When Galiano left, there remained nothing for the conscientious secretary to do but to write out the formal permission, all else having been satisfactorily settled; but no sooner had Galiano departed, than the recollection of the Council of Trent returned to the secretary with terrifying distinctness, and no permission was given.

Tired of the Council of Trent and the Duke’s secretary, Borrow would sometimes retire to the banks of the canal and there loiter in the sun, watching the gold and silver fish basking on the surface of its waters, or gossiping with the man who sold oranges and water under the shade of the old water-tower. Once he went to see an execution—anything to drive from his mind the conscientious secretary and the Council of Trent, the sole obstacles to the realisation of his plans.

Borrow informed Mr Brandram at the end of May that the Cabinet was unanimously in favour of granting his request; nothing happened. There seems no doubt that the Cabinet’s policy was one of subterfuge. It could not afford to offend the British Minister, nor could it, at that juncture, risk the bitter hostility of the clergy, consequently it promised and deferred. A petition to the Ecclesiastical Committee of Censors, although strongly backed by the Civil Governor of Madrid (within whose department lay the censorship), produced no better result. There was nothing heard but “To-morrow, please God!”

Foiled for the time being in his constructive policy, Borrow turned his attention to one of destruction. He had already announced to the Bible Society that the authority of the Pope was in a precarious condition.

“Little more than a breath is required to destroy it,” he writes, [177] “and I am almost confident that in less than a year it will be disowned. I am doing whatever I can in Madrid to prepare the way for an event so desirable. I mix with the people, and inform them who and what the Pope is, and how disastrous to Spain his influence has been. I tell them that the indulgences, which they are in the habit of purchasing, are of no more intrinsic value than so many pieces of paper, and were merely invented with the view of plundering them. I frequently ask: ‘Is it possible that God, who is good, would sanction the sale of sin? and, supposing certain things are sinful, do you think that God, for the sake of your money, would permit you to perform them?’ In many instances my hearers have been satisfied with this simple reasoning, and have said that they would buy no more indulgences.”

Mr Brandram promptly wrote warning Borrow against becoming involved in any endeavour to hasten the fall of the Pope. Although deeply interested in what their agent had to say, there was a strong misgiving at headquarters that for a few moments Borrow had “forgotten that our hopes of the fall of — are founded on the simple distribution of the Scriptures,” [178a] and he was told that, as their agent, he must not pursue the course that he described. The warning was carefully worded, so that it might not wound Borrow’s feelings or lessen his enthusiasm.

Borrow had found that the climate of Madrid did not agree with him. It had proved very trying during the winter; but now that summer had arrived the heat was suffocating and the air seemed to be filled with “flaming vapours,” and even the Spaniards would “lie gasping and naked upon their brick floors.” [178b] In spite of the heat, however, he was occupied “upon an average ten hours every day, dancing attendance on one or another of the Ministers.” [178c]

Sometimes the difficulties that he had to contend with reduced him almost to despair of ever obtaining the permission he sought. “Only those,” he writes, [178d] “who have been in the habit of dealing with Spaniards, by whom the most solemn promises are habitually broken, can form a correct idea of my reiterated disappointments, and of the toil of body and agony of spirit which I have been subjected to. One day I have been told, at the Ministry, that I had only to wait a few moments and all I wished would be acceded to; and then my hopes have been blasted with the information that various difficulties, which seemed insurmountable, had presented themselves, whereupon I have departed almost broken-hearted; but the next day I have been summoned in a great hurry and informed that ‘all was right,’ and that on the morrow a regular authority to print the Scriptures would be delivered to me, but by that time fresh and yet more terrible difficulties had occurred—so that I became weary of my life.”

Mr Villiers evidently saw through the Spanish Cabinet’s policy of delay; for he spoke to the ministers collectively and individually, strongly recommending that the petition be granted. He further pointed out the terrible condition of the people, who lacked religious instruction of any kind, and that a nation of atheists would not prove very easy to govern. It may have been these arguments, or, what is more likely, a desire on the part of the Cabinet to please the representative of Great Britain, in any case a greater willingness was now shown to give the necessary permission. Measures were accordingly taken to evade the law and protect the printer into whose hands the work was to be entrusted, until an appropriate moment arrived for repealing the existing statute.

Borrow forwarded to Earl Street the following interesting letter that he had received from Mr Villiers, which confirms his words as to the keen interest taken by the British Minister in the endeavour to obtain the permission to print the New Testament in Spanish

Dear Sir,

I have had a long conversation with Mr Isturitz upon the subject of printing the Testament, in which he showed himself to be both sagacious and liberal. He assured me that the matter should have his support whenever the Duque de Ribas brought it before the Cabinet, and that as far as he was concerned the question might be considered as settled.

You are quite welcome to make any use you please of this note with the D. de Ribas or Mr Olivan. [179a]

I am, Dear Sir,

Yours faithfully,

George Villiers.

June 23rd [1836].

It was unquestionably Borrow’s personality that was responsible for Mr Villiers’ interest in the scheme, as when Lieutenant Graydon [179b] had applied to him on a previous occasion he declined to interfere.

At Borrow’s suggestion the President of the Bible Society, Lord Bentley, wrote to Mr Villiers thanking him for the services he had rendered in connection with the Spanish programme. It was characteristic of Borrow that he added to his letter as a reason for his request, that “I may be again in need of Mr V’s. assistance before I leave Spain.” [180] Borrow was always keenly alive to the advantage of possessing influential friends who would be likely to assist him in his labours for the Society. He was not a profound admirer of the Society of Jesus for nothing, and although he would scorn to exercise tact in regard to his own concerns, he was fully prepared to make use of it in connection with those of the Bible Society. He was a Jesuit at heart, and would in all probability have preferred a good compositor who had been guilty of sacrilege to a bad one who had not. He saw that besides being something of a diplomatist, an agent of the Bible Society had also to be a good business man. He has been called tactless, until the word seems to have become permanently identified with his name; how unjustly is shown by a very hasty examination of his masterly diplomacy, both in Russia and Spain. Diplomacy, as Borrow understood it, was the art of being persuasive when persuasion would obtain for him his object, and firm, even threatening, when strong measures were best calculated to suit his ends. It is only the fool who defines tact as the gentle art of pleasing everybody. Diplomacy is the art of getting what you want at the expense of displeasing as few people as possible.

“The affair is settled—thank God!!! and we may begin to print whenever we think proper.” With these words Borrow announces the success of his enterprise. “Perhaps you have thought,” he continues, “that I have been tardy in accomplishing the business which brought me to Spain; but to be able to form a correct judgment you ought to be aware of all the difficulties which I have had to encounter, and which I shall not enumerate. I shall content myself with observing that for a thousand pounds I would not undergo again all the mortifications and disappointments of the last two months.” [181a]

There were moments when Borrow forgot the idiom of Earl Street and reverted to his old, self-confident style, which had so alarmed some of the excellent members of the Committee. He had achieved a great triumph, how great is best shown by the suggestion made by the prime minister that if determined to avail himself of the permission that had been obtained, he had better employ “the confidential printer of the Government, who would keep the matter secret; as in the present state of affairs he [the prime minister] would not answer for the consequences if it were noised abroad.” [181b] By giving the license to print the New Testament without notes, the Cabinet was assuming a very grave responsibility. All this shows how great was the influence of the British Minister upon the Isturitz Cabinet, and how considerable that of Borrow upon the British Minister.

Now that his object was gained, there was nothing further to keep Borrow in Spain, and he accordingly asked for instructions, suggesting that, as soon as the heats were over, Lieutenant Graydon might return to Madrid and take charge, “as nothing very difficult remains to be accomplished, and I am sure that Mr Villiers, at my entreaty, would extend to him the patronage with which he has honoured me.” [181c] In conclusion he announced himself as ready to do “whatever the Bible Society may deem expedient.” [181d]

Borrow now began to suffer from the reaction after his great exertions. He became so languid as scarcely to be able to hold a pen. He had no books, and conversation was impossible, for the heat had driven away all who could possibly escape, among them his acquaintances, and he frequently remembered with a sigh the happy days spent in St Petersburg.

A few days later (25th July) he wrote proposing as a member of the Bible Society Dr Luis de Usoz y Rio, “a person of great respectability and great learning.” [182a] Dr Usoz, who was subsequently to be closely associated with Borrow in his labours in Spain, was a man of whom he was unable to “speak in too high terms of admiration; he is one of the most learned men in Spain, and is become in every point a Christian according to the standard of the New Testament.” [182b]

Dr Usoz also addressed a letter to the Society asking to be considered as a correspondent and entrusted with copies of the Scriptures, which he was convinced he could circulate in every province of Spain. The advantage of having one of the editors of the principal newspaper of Spain on the side of the Society did not fail to appeal to Borrow. Dr Usoz not only became a member of the Bible Society, but earned from Borrow a splendid tribute in the Preface to The Bible in Spain.

Before advantage could be taken of the hardly earned permission to print the New Testament in Madrid, the Revolution of La Granja [182c] broke out, resulting in the proclamation of the Constitution of 1812, by which the press became free. In Madrid chaos reigned as a result. Borrow himself has given a vivid account of how Quesada, by his magnificent courage, quelled for the time being the revolution, how the ministers fled, how eventually the heroic tyrant was recognised and killed, and, finally, how, at a celebrated coffee-house in Madrid, Borrow saw the victorious Nationals drink to the Constitution from a bowl of coffee, which had first been stirred with one of the mutilated hands of the hated Quesada. [183a]

Now that no obstacle stood in the way of the printing of the Spanish New Testament, Borrow was requested to return to England that he might confer with the authorities at Earl Street. “You may now consider yourself under marching orders to return home as soon as you have made all the requisite arrangements; . . . you have done, we are persuaded, a good and great work,” [183b] Mr Brandram wrote. It was thought by the Committee that the advantages to be derived from a conference with Borrow would be well worth the expense involved in his having to return again to Spain.

To this request for his immediate presence in London Borrow replied:

“I shall make the provisional engagement as desired [as regards the printing of the New Testament] and shall leave Madrid as soon as possible; but I must here inform you, that I shall find much difficulty in returning to England, as all the provinces are disturbed in consequence of the Constitution of 1812 having been proclaimed, and the roads are swarming with robbers and banditti. It is my intention to join some muleteers, and attempt to reach Granada, from whence, if possible, I shall proceed to Malaga or Gibraltar, and thence to Lisbon, where I left the greatest part of my baggage. Do not be surprised, therefore, if I am tardy in making my appearance; it is no easy thing at present to travel in Spain. But all these troubles are for the benefit of the Cause, and must not be repined at.” [183c]

Leaving Madrid on 20th August, Borrow was at Granada on the 30th, as proved by the Visitors’ Book, in which he signed himself

“George Borrow Norvicensis.”

The real object of this visit appears to have been his desire to study more closely the Spanish gypsies. From Granada he proceeded to Malaga. Neither place can be said to be on the direct road to England; but the disturbed state of the country had to be taken into consideration, and it was a question not of the shortest road but the safest.

On his return to London, early in October, Borrow wrote a report [184] upon his labours, roughly sketching out his work since he left Badajos. He repeated his view that the Papal See had lost its power over Spain, and that the present moment was a peculiarly appropriate one in which to spread the light of the Gospel over the Peninsula. Forgetting the thievish propensities of the race, he wrote glowingly of the Spaniards and their intellectual equipment, the clearness with which they expressed themselves, and the elegance of their diction. The mind of the Spaniard was a garden run to waste, and it was for the British and Foreign Bible Society to cultivate it and purge it of the rank and bitter weeds.

He foresaw no difficulty whatever in disposing of 5000 copies of the New Testament in a short time in the capital and provincial towns, in particular Cadiz and Seville where the people were more enlightened. He was not so confident about the rural districts, where those who assured him that they were acquainted with the New Testament said that it contained hymns addressed to the Virgin which were written by the Pope.