Borrow now lost the services of the faithful Antonio, who, on the last day of the year, informed him that he had become unsettled and dissatisfied with everything at his master’s lodgings, including the house, the furniture, and the landlady herself. Therefore he had hired himself out to a count for four dollars a month less than he was receiving from Borrow, because he was “fond of change, though it be for the worse. Adieu, mon maitre,” he said in parting; “may you be as well served as you deserve. Should you chance, however, to have any pressing need de mes soins, send for me without hesitation, and I will at once give my new master warning.” A few days later Borrow engaged a Basque, named Francisco, who “to the strength of a giant joined the disposition of a lamb,” [216a] and who had been strongly recommended to him.
On his return from a hurried visit to Toledo, Borrow found his Despacho succeeding as well as could be expected. To call attention to his premises he now took an extremely daring step. He caused to be printed three thousand copies of an advertisement on paper yellow, blue, and crimson, “with which I almost covered the sides of the streets” he wrote, “and besides this inserted notices in all the journals and periodicals, employing also a man, after the London fashion, to parade the streets with a placard, to the astonishment of the populace.” [216b] The result of this move, Borrow declared, was that every man, woman and child in Madrid became aware of the existence of his Despacho, as well they might. In spite of this commercial enterprise, the first month’s trading showed a sale of only between seventy and eighty New Testaments, and ten Bibles, [216c] these having been secured from a Spanish bookseller who had brought them secretly from Gibraltar, but who was afraid to sell them himself. Mr Brandram’s comment upon the letter from Borrow telling of the posters was that its contents had “afforded us no little merriment. The idea of your placards and placard-bearers in Madrid is indeed a novel one. It cannot but be effectual in giving publicity. I sincerely hope it may not be prejudicial.” [216d]
When in England, at the end of 1836, Borrow had been authorised by the Bible Society to find “a person competent to translate the Scriptures in Basque.” On 27th February 1837, he wrote telling Mr Brandram that he had become “acquainted with a gentleman well versed in that dialect, of which I myself have some knowledge.” Dr Oteiza, the domestic physician of the Marqués de Salvatierra, was accordingly commissioned to proceed with the work, for which, when completed, he was paid the sum of “£8 and a few odd shillings.” Borrow reported to Mr Brandram (7th June 1837):
“I have examined it with much attention, and find it a very faithful version. The only objection which can be brought against it is that Spanish words are frequently used to express ideas for which there are equivalents in Basque; but this language, as spoken at present in Spain, is very corrupt, and a work written entirely in the Basque of Larramendi’s Dictionary would be intelligible to very few. I have read passages from it to men of Guipuscoa, who assured me that they had no difficulty in understanding it, and that it was written in the colloquial style of the province.”
Borrow had “obtained a slight acquaintance” with Basque when a youth, which he lost no opportunity of extending by mingling with Biscayans during his stay in the Peninsula. He also considerably improved himself in the language by conversing with his Basque servant Francisco. Borrow now decided to print the Gitano and Basque versions of St Luke, which he accordingly put in hand; but as the compositors were entirely ignorant of both languages, he had to exercise the greatest care in reading the proofs.
During his stay in Spain he had found time to translate into the dialect of the Spanish gypsies the greater part of the New Testament. [217a] His method had been somewhat original. Believing that there is “no individual, however wicked and hardened, who is utterly godless,” [217b] he determined to apply his belief to the gypsies. To enlist their interest in the work, he determined to allow them to do the translating themselves. At one period of his residence in Madrid he was regularly visited by two gypsy women, and these he decided to make his translators; for he found the women far more amenable than the men. In spite of the fact that he had already translated into Gitano the New Testament, or the greater part of it, he would read out to the women from the Spanish version and let them translate it into Romany themselves, thus obtaining the correct gypsy idiom. The women looked forward to these gatherings and also to “the one small glass of Malaga” with which their host regaled them. They had got as far as the eighth chapter before the meetings ended. What was the moral effect of St Luke upon the minds of two gypsies? Borrow confessed himself sceptical; first, because he was acquainted with the gypsy character; second, because it came to his knowledge that one of the women “committed a rather daring theft shortly afterwards, which compelled her to conceal herself for a fortnight.” [218a] Borrow comforted himself with the reflection that “it is quite possible, however, that she may remember the contents of those chapters on her death-bed.” [218b] The translation of the remaining chapters was supplied from Borrow’s own version begun at Badajos in 1836.
It is not strange that Borrow should be regarded with suspicion by the Spaniards on account of his association with the Gitanos. Sometimes there would be as many as seventeen gypsies gathered together at his lodgings in the Calle de Santiago.
“The people in the street in which I lived,” he writes, [218c] “seeing such numbers of these strange females continually passing in and out, were struck with astonishment, and demanded the reason. The answers which they obtained by no means satisfied them. ‘Zeal for the conversion of souls—the souls too of Gitánas,—disparáte! the fellow is a scoundrel. Besides he is an Englishman, and is not baptised; what cares he for souls? They visit him for other purposes. He makes base ounces, which they carry away and circulate. Madrid is already stocked with false money.’ Others were of the opinion that we met for the purposes of sorcery and abomination. The Spaniard has no conception that other springs of action exist than interest or villany.”
Borrow was in reality endeavouring to convey to his “little congregation,” as he called them, some idea of abstract morality. He was bold enough “to speak against their inveterate practices, thieving and lying, telling fortunes,” etc., and at first experienced much opposition. About the result, he seems to have cherished no illusions; still, he wrote a hymn in their dialect which he taught his guests to sing.
For some time past it had been obvious to Borrow that he was becoming more than ever unpopular with certain interested factions in Madrid, who looked upon his missionary labours with angry disapproval. The opening of his Despacho had caused a great sensation. “The Priests and Bigots are teeming with malice and fury,” he had written to Mr Brandram, [219a] “which hitherto they have thought proper to exhibit only in words, as they know that all I do here is favoured by Mr Villiers [219b] (sic) . . . There is no attempt, however atrocious, which may not be expected from such people, and were it right and seemly for me, the most insignificant of worms, to make such a comparison, I would say that, like Paul at Ephesus, I am fighting with wild beasts.” He was attacked in print and endeavours were made to incite the people against him as a sorcerer and companion of gypsies and witches. When he decided upon the campaign of the posters it would appear, at first glance, that in the claims of the merchant Borrow had entirely forgotten the obligations of the diplomatist. On the other hand, he may have foreseen that the priestly party would soon force the Government to action, and was desirous of selling all the books he could before this happened. His own words seem to indicate that this was the case.