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]