The Life of George Borrow [125]
Borrow had sent to Naval Carnero, which had been seized and subsequently claimed on Borrow's behalf by Antonio. In Spain they have the dramatic instinct. If it strike the majestic mind of a corregidor at midnight that he would like to see a citizen or a stranger on the morrow about some trifling affair, time or place are not permitted to interfere with the conveyance of the intimation to the citizen or stranger to present himself before the gravely austere official, who will carry out the interrogation with a solemnity becoming a capital charge.
By the middle of April barely a thousand Testaments remained; these Borrow determined to distribute in Seville. Sending Antonio, the Testaments and two horses with the convoy, Borrow decided to risk travelling with the Mail Courier. For one thing, he disliked the slowness of a convoy, and for another the insults and irritations that travellers had to put up with from the escort, both officers and men. His original plan had been to proceed by Estremadura; but a band of Carlist robbers had recently made its appearance, murdering or holding at ransom every person who fell into its clutches. Borrow wrote:-
"I therefore deem it wise to avoid, if possible, the alternative of being shot or having to pay one thousand pounds for being set at liberty . . . It is moreover wicked to tempt Providence systematically. I have already thrust myself into more danger than was, perhaps, strictly necessary, and as I have been permitted hitherto to escape, it is better to be content with what it has pleased the Lord to do for me up to the present moment, than to run the risk of offending Him by a blind confidence in His forbearance, which may be over-taxed. As it is, however, at all times best to be frank, I am willing to confess that I am what the world calls exceedingly superstitious; perhaps the real cause of my change of resolution was a dream, in which I imagined myself on a desolate road in the hands of several robbers, who were hacking me with their long, ugly knives." {290a}
In the same letter, which was so to incur Mr Brandram's disapproval, Borrow tells of the excellent results of his latest plan for disposing of Bibles and Testaments, three hundred and fifty of the former having been sold since he reached Spain. He goes on to explain and expound the difficulties that have been met and overcome, and hopes that his friends at Earl Street will be patient, as it may not be in his power to send "for a long time any flattering accounts of operations commenced there." In conclusion, he assures Mr Brandram that from the Church of Rome he has learned one thing, "EVER TO EXPECT EVIL, AND EVER TO HOPE FOR GOOD."
Nothing could have been more unfortunate than the effect produced upon Mr Brandram's mind by this letter.
"I scarcely know what to say," he writes. "You are in a very peculiar country; you are doubtless a man of very peculiar temperament, and we must not apply common rules in judging either of yourself or your affairs. What, e.g., shall we say to your confession of a certain superstitiousness? It is very frank of you to tell us what you need not have told; but it sounded very odd when read aloud in a large Committee. Strangers that know you not would carry away strange ideas . . . In bespeaking our patience, there is an implied contrast between your own mode of proceeding and that adopted by others--a contrast this a little to the disadvantage of others, and savouring a little of the praise of a personage called number one . . . Perhaps my vanity is offended, and I feel as if I were not esteemed a person of sufficient discernment to know enough of the real state of Spain . . .
"Bear with me now in my criticisms on your second letter [that of 2nd May]. You narrate your perilous journey to Seville, and say at the beginning of the description: 'My usual wonderful good fortune accompanying us.' This is a mode of speaking to which we are not well accustomed; it savours, some of our friends would say, a little of the profane. Those who know you will not impute
By the middle of April barely a thousand Testaments remained; these Borrow determined to distribute in Seville. Sending Antonio, the Testaments and two horses with the convoy, Borrow decided to risk travelling with the Mail Courier. For one thing, he disliked the slowness of a convoy, and for another the insults and irritations that travellers had to put up with from the escort, both officers and men. His original plan had been to proceed by Estremadura; but a band of Carlist robbers had recently made its appearance, murdering or holding at ransom every person who fell into its clutches. Borrow wrote:-
"I therefore deem it wise to avoid, if possible, the alternative of being shot or having to pay one thousand pounds for being set at liberty . . . It is moreover wicked to tempt Providence systematically. I have already thrust myself into more danger than was, perhaps, strictly necessary, and as I have been permitted hitherto to escape, it is better to be content with what it has pleased the Lord to do for me up to the present moment, than to run the risk of offending Him by a blind confidence in His forbearance, which may be over-taxed. As it is, however, at all times best to be frank, I am willing to confess that I am what the world calls exceedingly superstitious; perhaps the real cause of my change of resolution was a dream, in which I imagined myself on a desolate road in the hands of several robbers, who were hacking me with their long, ugly knives." {290a}
In the same letter, which was so to incur Mr Brandram's disapproval, Borrow tells of the excellent results of his latest plan for disposing of Bibles and Testaments, three hundred and fifty of the former having been sold since he reached Spain. He goes on to explain and expound the difficulties that have been met and overcome, and hopes that his friends at Earl Street will be patient, as it may not be in his power to send "for a long time any flattering accounts of operations commenced there." In conclusion, he assures Mr Brandram that from the Church of Rome he has learned one thing, "EVER TO EXPECT EVIL, AND EVER TO HOPE FOR GOOD."
Nothing could have been more unfortunate than the effect produced upon Mr Brandram's mind by this letter.
"I scarcely know what to say," he writes. "You are in a very peculiar country; you are doubtless a man of very peculiar temperament, and we must not apply common rules in judging either of yourself or your affairs. What, e.g., shall we say to your confession of a certain superstitiousness? It is very frank of you to tell us what you need not have told; but it sounded very odd when read aloud in a large Committee. Strangers that know you not would carry away strange ideas . . . In bespeaking our patience, there is an implied contrast between your own mode of proceeding and that adopted by others--a contrast this a little to the disadvantage of others, and savouring a little of the praise of a personage called number one . . . Perhaps my vanity is offended, and I feel as if I were not esteemed a person of sufficient discernment to know enough of the real state of Spain . . .
"Bear with me now in my criticisms on your second letter [that of 2nd May]. You narrate your perilous journey to Seville, and say at the beginning of the description: 'My usual wonderful good fortune accompanying us.' This is a mode of speaking to which we are not well accustomed; it savours, some of our friends would say, a little of the profane. Those who know you will not impute