The Life of George Borrow

by Herbert George Jenkins

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.

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.