there are many interesting personalities that pass before us in borrow’s three separate narratives, as they may be considered, of his spanish experiences. we would fain know more concerning the two excellent secretaries of the bible society—samuel brandram and joseph jowett. we merely know that the former was rector of beckenham and was one of the society’s secretaries until his death in 1850; that the latter was rector of silk willoughby in lincolnshire, and belonged to the same family as jowett of balliol. but there are many quaint characters in borrow’s own narrative to whom we are introduced. there is maria diaz, for example, his landlady in the house in the calle de santiago in madrid, and her husband, juan lopez, also assisted borrow in his bible distribution. very eloquent are borrow’s tributes to the pair in the pages of the bible in spain. “honour to maria diaz, the quiet, dauntless, clever, castilian female! i were an ingrate not to speak well of her.” we get a glimpse of maria and her husband long years afterwards—a pensioner in a spanish almshouse revealing himself as the son of borrow’s friends. eduardo lopez was only eight years of age when borrow was in madrid, and he really adds nothing to our knowledge. then there were those two incorrigible vagabonds—antonio buchini, his greek servant with an italian name, and benedict mol, the swiss of lucerne, who turns up in all sorts of improbable circumstances as the seeker of treasure in the church of st. james of compostella—only a masterly imagination could have made him so interesting. concerning these there is nothing to supplement borrow’s own story. but we have attractive glimpses of borrow in the frequently quoted narrative of colonel napier, and this is so illuminating that i venture to reproduce it at greater length than previous biographers have done. edward elers napier, who was born p. 131in 1808, was the son of one edward elers of the royal navy. his widow married the famous admiral sir charles napier, who adopted her four children by her first husband. edward elers, the younger, or edward napier, as he came to be called, was educated at sandhurst and entered the army, serving for some years in india. later his regiment was ordered to gibraltar, and it was thence that he made several sporting excursions into spain and morocco. later he served in egypt, and when, through ill-health, he retired in 1843 on half-pay, he lived for some years in portugal. in 1854 he returned to the army and did good work in the crimea, becoming a lieutenant-general in 1864. he died in 1870. he wrote, in addition to these excursions, several other books, including scenes and sports in foreign lands. it was during his military career at gibraltar that he met george borrow at seville, as the following extracts from his book testify. borrow’s pretension to have visited the east is characteristic—and amusing:—

1839. saturday 4th.—out early, sketching at the alcazar. after breakfast it set in a day of rain, and i was reduced to wander about the galleries overlooking the “patio.” nothing so dreary and out of character as a rainy day in spain. whilst occupied in moralising over the dripping water-spouts, i observed a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, dressed in a zamarra, leaning over the balustrades, and apparently engaged in a similar manner with myself. community of thoughts and occupation generally tends to bring people together. from the stranger’s complexion, which was fair, but with brilliant black eyes, i concluded he was not a spaniard; in short, there was something so remarkable in his appearance that it was difficult to say to what nation he might belong. he was tall, with a commanding appearance; yet, though apparently in the flower of manhood, his hair was so deeply tinged with the winter of either age or sorrow as to be nearly snow-white. under these circumstances, i was rather puzzled as to what language i should address him in. at last, putting a bold face on the matter, i approached him with a “bonjour, monsieur, quel triste temps!”

“yes, sir,” replied he in the purest parisian accent; “and it is very unusual weather here at this time of the year.”

“does ‘monsieur’ intend to be any time at seville?” asked i. he replied in the affirmative. we were soon on a friendly footing, and from his varied information i was both amused and instructed. still i became more than ever in the dark as to his nationality; i found he could speak english as fluently as french. i tried him on the italian track; again he was perfectly at home. he had a greek servant, to whom he gave his orders in romaïc. p. 132he conversed in good castilian with “mine host”; exchanged a german salutation with an austrian baron, at the time an inmate of the fonda; and on mentioning to him my morning visit to triano, which led to some remarks on the gypsies, and the probable place from whence they derived their origin, he expressed his belief that it was from moultan, and said that, even to this day, they retained many moultanee and hindoostanee expressions, such as “pánee” (water), “buree pánee” (the sea), etc. he was rather startled when i replied “in hindee,” but was delighted on finding i was an indian, and entered freely, and with depth and acuteness, on the affairs of the east, most of which part of the world he had visited.

in such varied discourse did the hours pass so swiftly away that we were not a little surprised when pépé, the “mozo” (and i verily believe all spanish waiters are called pépé), announced the hour of dinner; after which we took a long walk together on the banks of the river. but, on our return, i was as much as ever in ignorance as to who might be my new and pleasant acquaintance.

i took the first opportunity of questioning antonio baillie (buchini) on the subject, and his answer only tended to increase my curiosity. he said that nobody knew what nation the “mysterious unknown” belonged to, nor what were his motives for travelling. in his passport he went by the name of —, and as a british subject, but in consequence of a suspicion being entertained that he was a russian spy, the police kept a sharp look-out over him. spy or no spy, i found him a very agreeable companion; and it was agreed that on the following day we should visit together the ruins of italica.

may 5.—after breakfast, the “unknown” and myself, mounting our horses, proceeded on our expedition to the ruins of italica. crossing the river, and proceeding through the populous suburb of triano, already mentioned, we went over the same extensive plain that i had traversed in going to san lucar, but keeping a little more to the right a short ride brought us in sight of the convent of san isidrio, surrounded by tall cypress and waving date-trees. this once richly-endowed religious establishment is, together with the small neighbouring village of santi ponci, i believe, the property of the duke of medina coeli, at whose expense the excavations are now carried on at the latter place, which is the ancient site of the roman italica.

we sat down on a fragment of the walls, and sadly recalling the splendour of those times of yore, contrasted with the desolation around us, the “unknown” began to feel the vein of poetry creeping through his inward soul, and gave vent to it by reciting, with great emphasis and effect, and to the astonishment of the wondering peasant, who must have thought him “loco,” the following well-known and beautiful lines:—

“cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower, grown,

matted and massed together, hillocks heap’d

p. 133on what were chambers, arch crush’d, column strown

in fragments, choked up vaults, and frescoes steep’d

in subterranean damps, where the owl peep’d,

deeming it midnight; temples, baths, or halls—

pronounce who can: for all that learning reap’d

from her research hath been, that these are walls.”

i had been too much taken up with the scene, the verses, and the strange being who was repeating them with so much feeling, to notice the approach of one who now formed the fourth person of our party. this was a slight female figure, beautiful in the extreme, but whose tattered garments, raven hair (which fell in matted elf-locks over her naked shoulders), swarthy complexion, and flashing eyes, proclaimed to be of the wandering tribe of “gitanos.” from an intuitive sense of natural politeness she stood with crossed arms, and a slight smile on her dark and handsome countenance, until my companion had ceased, and then addressed us in the usual whining tone of supplication, with “caballeritos, una limosita! dios se lo pagara a ustedes!” (“gentlemen, a little charity! god will repay it to you!”) the gypsy girl was so pretty, and her voice so sweet, that i involuntarily put my hand in my pocket.

“stop!” said the “unknown.” “do you remember what i told you about the eastern origin of these people? you shall see i am correct. come here, my pretty child,” said he in moultanee, “and tell me where are the rest of your tribe?”

the girl looked astounded, replied in the same tongue, but in broken language; when, taking him by the arm, she said, in spanish: “come, caballero; come to one who will be able to answer you;” and she led the way down amongst the ruins towards one of the dens formerly occupied by the wild beasts, and disclosed to us a set of beings scarcely less savage. the sombre walls of this gloomy abode were illumined by a fire, the smoke from which escaped through a deep fissure in the massy roof; whilst the flickering flames threw a blood-red glare on the bronzed features of a group of children, of two men, and a decrepit old hag; who appeared busily engaged in some culinary preparations.

on our entrance, the scowling glance of the males of the party, and a quick motion of the hand towards the folds of the “faja,” caused in me, at least, anything but a comfortable sensation; but their hostile intentions, if ever entertained, were immediately removed by a wave of the hand from our conductress, who, leading my companion towards the sibyl, whispered something in her ear. the old crone appeared incredulous. the “unknown” uttered one word; but that word had the effect of magic; she prostrated herself at his feet, and in an instant, from an object of suspicion he became one of worship to the whole family, to whom, on taking leave, he made a handsome present, and departed with their united blessings, to the astonishment of myself, and what looked very like terror in our spanish guide.

p. 134i was, as the phrase goes, dying with curiosity, and, as soon as we mounted our horses, exclaimed, “where, in the name of goodness, did you pick up your acquaintance and the language of these extraordinary people?” “some years ago, in moultan,” he replied. “and by what means do you possess such apparent influence over them?” but the “unknown” had already said more than he perhaps wished on the subject. he drily replied that he had more than once owed his life to gipsies, and had reason to know them well; but this was said in a tone which precluded all further queries on my part. the subject was never again broached, and we returned in silence to the fonda. . . .

may 7th.—pouring with rain all day, during which i was mostly in the society of the “unknown.” this is a most extraordinary character, and the more i see of him the more i am puzzled. he appears acquainted with everybody and everything, but apparently unknown to every one himself. though his figure bespeaks youth—and by his own account his age does not exceed thirty—yet the snows of eighty winters could not have whitened his locks more completely than they are. but in his dark and searching eye there is an almost supernatural penetration and lustre, which, were i inclined to superstition, might induce me to set down its possessor as a second melmoth; and in that character he often appears to me during the troubled rest i sometimes obtain through the medium of the great soother, “laudanum.”

the next most interesting figure in the borrow gallery of this period is don luis de usóz y rio, who was a good friend to borrow during the whole of his sojourn in spain. it was he who translated borrow’s appeal to the spanish prime minister to be permitted to distribute scio’s new testament. he watched over borrow with brotherly solicitude, and wrote him more than one excellent letter, of which the two following from my borrow papers, the last written at the close of the spanish period, are the most interesting:

to mr. george borrow

(translated from the spanish)

piazza di spagna 47, rome, 7 april, 1838.

dear friend,—i received your letter, and thank you for the same. i know the works under the name of “boz,” about which you write, and also the memoirs of the pickwick club, and although they seemed to me good, i have failed to appreciate properly their qualities, because much of the dramatic style and dialogue in the same are very difficult for those who know english merely from books. i made here a better acquaintance p. 135than that of mezzofanti (who knows nothing), namely, that of prof. michel-angelo lanci, already well known on account of his work, la sacra scrittura illustrata con monumenti fenico-assiri ed egiziani, etc., etc. (the scriptures, illustrated with phœnician-assyrian and egyptian monuments), which i am reading at present, and find very profound and interesting, and more particularly very original. he has written and presented me a book, esposizione dei versetti del giobbe intorno al cavallo (explanation of verses of job about a horse), and in these and other works he proves himself to be a great philologist and oriental scholar. i meet him almost daily, and i assure you that he seems to me to know everything he treats thoroughly, and not like gayangos or calderon, etc., etc. his philosophic works have created a great stir here, and they do not please much the friars here; but as here they are not like the police barbarians there, they do not forbid it, as they cannot. lanci is well known in russia and in germany, and when i bring his works there, and you are there and have not read them, you will read them and judge for yourself.

wishing you well, and always at your service, i remain, always yours,

luis de usoz y rio.

to mr. george borrow

(translated from the spanish)

naples, 28 august, 1839.

dear friend,—i received your letter of the 28 july written from sevilla, and i am waiting for that which you promise me from tangier.

i am glad that you liked sevilla, and i am still more glad of the successful shipment of the beloved book. in distributing it, you are rendering the greatest service that generous foreigners (i mean englishmen) can render to the real freedom and enlightenment in spain, and any spaniard who is at heart a gentleman must be grateful for this service to the society and to its agent. in my opinion, if spain had maintained the customs, character, and opinions that it had three centuries ago, it ought to have maintained also unity in religious opinions: but that at present the circumstances have changed, and the moral character and the advancement of my unfortunate country would not lose anything in its purification and progress by (the grant of) religious liberty.

you are saying that i acted very light-mindedly in judging mezzofanti without speaking to him. you know that the other time when i was in italy i had dealings and spoke with him, and that i said to you that he had a great facility for speaking languages, but that otherwise he was no good. because i have seen him several times in the papal chapels with a certain air p. 136of an ass and certain grimaces of a blockhead that cannot happen to a man of talent. i am told, moreover, that he is a spy, and that for that reason he was given the hat. i know, moreover, that he has not written anything at all. for that reason i do not wish to take the trouble of seeing him.

as regards lanci, i am not saying anything except that i am waiting until you have read his work without passion, and that if my books have arrived at madrid, you can ask my brother in santiago.

you are judging of him and of pahlin in the way you reproach me with judging mezzofanti; i thank you, and i wish for the dedication gabricote; and i also wish for your return to madrid, so that in going to toledo you would get a copy of aristophanes with the order that will be given to you by my brother, who has got it.

if for the gabricote or other work you require my clumsy pen, write to florence and send me a rough copy of what is to be done, in english or in spanish, and i will supply the finished work. from florence i intend to go to london, and i should be obliged if you would give me letters and instructions that would be of use to me in literary matters, but you must know that my want of knowledge of speaking english makes it necessary that the englishmen who speak to me should know spanish, french, or italian.

as regards robberies, of which you accuse southern people, from the literatures of the north, do you think that the robberies committed by the northerners from the southern literature would be left behind? erunt vitia donec homines.—always yours,

eleutheros.

yet another acquaintance of these spanish days was baron taylor—isidore justin séverin taylor, to give him his full name—who had a career of wandering achievement, with government pay, that must have appealed to borrow. although his father was an englishman he became a naturalised frenchman, and he was for a time in the service of the french government as director of the théâtre français, when he had no little share in the production of the dramas of victor hugo and dumas. later he was instrumental in bringing the luxor obelisk from egypt to paris. he wrote books upon his travels in spain, portugal and morocco. he wandered all over europe in search of art treasures for the french government, and may very well have met borrow again and again. borrow tells us that he had met taylor in france, in russia, and in ireland, before he met him in andalusia, collecting pictures for the french government. borrow’s description of their meetings is inimitable:—

p. 137whenever he descries me, whether in the street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst bedouin haimas, at novogorod or stambul, he flings up his arms and exclaims, “o ciel! i have again the felicity of seeing my cherished and most respectable borrow.”

the last and most distinguished of borrow’s colleagues while in spain was george villiers, fourth earl of clarendon, whom we judge to have been in private life one of the most lovable men of his epoch. george villiers was born in london in 1800, and was the grandson of the first earl, thomas villiers, who received his title when holding office in lord north’s administration, but is best known from his association in diplomacy with frederick the great. his grandson was born, as it were, into diplomacy, and at twenty years of age was an attaché to the british embassy in st. petersburg. later he was associated with sir john bowring in negotiating a commercial treaty with france. in august, 1833, he was sent as british minister—“envoy extraordinary” he was called—to madrid, and he had been two years in that seething-pot of spanish affairs, with christinos and carlists at one another’s throats, when borrow arrived in the peninsula. his influence was the greater with a succession of spanish prime ministers in that in 1838 he had been largely instrumental in negotiating the quadruple alliance between england, france, spain, and portugal. in march, 1839—exactly a year before borrow took his departure—he resigned his position at madrid, having then for some months exchanged the title of sir george villiers for that of earl of clarendon through the death of his uncle; borrow thereafter having to launch his various complaints and grievances at his successor, mr.—afterwards sir george—jerningham, who, it has been noted, had his home in norfolk, at costessey, four miles from norwich. villiers returned to england with a great reputation, although his spanish policy was attacked in the house of lords. in that same year, 1839, he joined lord melbourne’s administration as lord privy seal, o’connell at the time declaring that he ought to be made lord-lieutenant of ireland, so sympathetic was he towards concession and conciliation in that then feverishly excited country. this office actually came to him in 1847, and he was lord-lieutenant through that dark period of ireland’s history, p. 138including the famine, the young ireland rebellion, and the smith o’brien rising. he pleased no one in ireland. no english statesman could ever have done so under such ideals of government as england would have tolerated then, and for long years afterwards. the whigs defended him, the tories abused him, in their respective organs. he left ireland in 1852 and was more than once mentioned as possible prime minister in the ensuing years. he was secretary of state for foreign affairs in lord aberdeen’s administration during the crimean war, and he held the same office under lord palmerston, again under lord john russell in 1865, and under mr. gladstone in 1868. he might easily have become prime minister. greville in his diary writes of prince albert’s desire that he should succeed lord john russell, but clarendon said that no power on earth would make him take that position. he said he could not speak, and had not had parliamentary experience enough. he died in 1870, leaving a reputation as a skilful diplomatist and a disinterested politician, if not that of a great statesman. he had twice refused the governor-generalship of india, and three times a marquisate.

sir george villiers seems to have been very courteous to borrow during the whole of the time they were together in spain. it would have been easy for him to have been quite otherwise. borrow’s bible mission synchronised with a very delicate diplomatic mission of his own, and in a measure clashed with it. the government of spain was at the time fighting the ultra-clericals. physical and moral strife were rife in the land. neither royalists nor carlists could be expected to sympathise with borrow’s schemes, which were fundamentally to attack their church. but villiers was at all times friendly, and, as far as he could be, helpful. borrow seems to have had ready access to him, and he answered his many letters. he gave borrow an opportunity of an interview with the formidable prime minister mendizábal, and he interviewed another minister and persuaded him to permit borrow to print and circulate his bibles. he intervened successfully to release borrow from his madrid prison. but villiers could not have had any sympathy with borrow other than as a british subject to be protected on the roman citizen principle. we do not suppose that when the bible in spain appeared he was one p. 139of those who were captivated by its extraordinary qualities. when borrow crossed his path in later life he received no special consideration, such as would be given very promptly in our day by a cabinet minister to a man of letters of like distinction. we find him on one occasion writing to the ex-minister, now lord clarendon, asking his help for a consulship. clarendon replied kindly enough, but sheltered himself behind the statement that the prime minister was overwhelmed with applications for patronage. yet clarendon, who held many high offices in the following years, might have helped if he had cared to do so. some years later—in 1847—there was further correspondence when borrow desired to become a magistrate of suffolk. here again clarendon wrote three courteous letters, and appears to have done his best in an unenthusiastic way. but nothing came of it all.