The Life of George Borrow

by Herbert George Jenkins

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.