Borrow proceeded to acquaint himself with the state of affairs in Lisbon and the surrounding country, that he might transmit a full account to the Bible Society. He visited every part of the city, losing no opportunity of entering into conversation with anyone with whom he came in contact. The people he found indifferent to religion, the lower orders in particular. They laughed in his face when he enquired if ever they confessed themselves, and a muleteer on being asked if he reverenced the cross, “instantly flew into a rage, stamped violently, and, spitting on the ground, said it was a piece of stone, and that he should have no more objection to spit upon it than the stones on which he trod.” [154b]
Many of the people could read, as they proved when asked to do so from the Portuguese New Testament; but of all those whom he addressed none appeared to have read the Scriptures, or to know anything of what they contain.
After spending four or five days at Lisbon, Borrow, accompanied by Antonio, proceeded to Cintra. [155a] Here he pursued the same method, also visiting the schools and enquiring into the nature of the religious instruction. During his stay of four days, he “traversed the country in all directions, riding into the fields, where I saw the peasants at work, and entering into discourse with them, and notwithstanding many of my questions must have appeared to them very singular, I never experienced any incivility, though they frequently answered me with smiles and laughter.” [155b]
From Cintra he proceeded on horseback to Mafra, a large village some three leagues distant. Everywhere he subjected the inhabitants to a searching cross-examination, laying bare their minds upon religious matters, experiencing surprise at the “free and unembarrassed manner in which the Portuguese peasantry sustain a conversation, and the purity of the language in which they express their thoughts,” [155c] although few could read or write.
On the return journey from Mafra to Cintra he nearly lost his life, owing to the girth of his saddle breaking during his horse’s exertions in climbing a hill. Borrow was cast violently to the ground; but fortunately on the right side, otherwise he would in all probability have been bruised to death by tumbling down the steep hill-side. As it was, he was dazed, and felt the effects of his mishap for several days.
On his return to Lisbon, Borrow found that Mr Wilby was back, and he had many opportunities of taking counsel with him as to the best means to be adopted to further the Society’s ends. He learned that four hundred copies of the Bible and the New Testament had arrived, and it was decided to begin operations at once. Mr Wilby recommended the booksellers as the best medium of distribution; but Borrow urged strongly that at least half of the available copies “should be entrusted to colporteurs,” who were to receive a commission upon every copy sold. To this Mr Wilby agreed, provided the operations of the colporteurs were restricted to Lisbon, as there was considerable danger in the country, where the priests were very powerful and might urge the people to mishandle, or even assassinate, the bearers of the Word.
By nature Borrow was not addicted to half measures. His whole record as an agent of the Bible Society was of a series of determined onslaughts upon the obstacles animate and inanimate, that beset his path. Sometimes he took away the breath of his adversaries by the very vigour of his attack, and, like the old Northern leaders, whose deeds he wished to give to an uneager world in translated verse, he faced great dangers and achieved great ends. Recognising that the darkest region is most in need of light, he enquired of Mr Wilby in what province of Portugal were to be found the most ignorant and benighted people, and on being told the Alemtejo (the other side of the Tagus), he immediately announced his intention of making a journey through it, in order to discover how dense spiritual gloom could really be in an ostensibly Christian country.
The Alemtejo was an unprepossessing country, consisting for the most part of “heaths, broken by knolls and gloomy dingles, swamps and forests of stunted pine,” with but few hills and mountains. The place was infested with banditti, and robberies, accompanied by horrible murders, were of constant occurrence. On 6th December, accompanied by his servant Antonio, Borrow set out for Evora, the principal town, formerly a seat of the dreaded Inquisition, which lies about sixty miles east of Lisbon. After many adventures, which he himself has narrated, including a dangerous crossing of the Tagus, and a meeting with Dom Geronimo Jozé d’Azveto, secretary to the government of Evora, Borrow arrived at his destination, having spent two nights on the road. During the journey he had been constantly mindful of his mission; beside the embers of a bandit’s fire he left a New Testament, and the huts that mark the spot where Dom Pedro and Dom Miguel met, he sweetened with some of “the precious little tracts.”
He had brought with him to Evora twenty Testaments and two Bibles, half of which he left with an enlightened shopkeeper, to whom he had a letter of introduction. The other half he subsequently bestowed upon Dom Geronimo, who proved to be a man of great earnestness, deeply conscious of his countrymen’s ignorance of true Christianity. Each day during his stay at Evora, Borrow spent two hours beside the fountain where the cattle were watered, entering into conversation with all who approached, the result being that before he left the town, he had spoken to “about two hundred . . . of the children of Portugal upon matters connected with their eternal welfare.” Sometimes his hearers would ask for proofs of his statements that they were not Christians, being ignorant of Christ and his teaching, and that the Pope was Satan’s prime minister. He invariably replied by calling attention to their own ignorance of the Scripture, for if the priests were in reality Christ’s ministers, why had they kept from their flocks the words of their Master?
When not engaged at the fountain, Borrow rode about the neighbourhood distributing tracts. Fearful lest the people might refuse them if offered by his own hand, he dropped them in their favourite walks, in the hope that they would be picked up out of curiosity. He caused the daughter of the landlady of the inn at which he stopped to burn a copy of Volney’s Ruins of Empire, because the author was an “emissary of Satan,” the girl standing by telling her beads until the book were entirely consumed.