out But who, then, are critics, that they should torture and defame with impunity? What moral inquisition is this, before whose secret tribunal all are liable to be arraigned, condemned, and tortured, no one knowing his accuser? Why is duty sacred to all men but critics? Why is cowardice disgraceful to all men but to critics? These questions one finds it difficult to get answered. The only defences are those which more decisively fix the iniquity of the practice. erties with the author with impunity; that he may | for it is pronounced "inevitable," if not just, be witty or severe, without the penalty of being by that august formula, "public morality, shot. Now, of what nature is that criticism which would draw down the author's cartel-of-war upon the critic? It is not an age for duels on light of fences and vague grounds. An author would be laughed at, from one end of the kingdom to the other, for calling out a man for abusing his book; for saying that he wrote bad grammar, and was a wretched poet. If the author were such a fool as, on mere literary ground, to challenge a critic, the critic would scarcely be such a fool as to go with him. Ay,' says the critic, if I only abuse his book; but what if I abuse his person? I may censure his work safely; but supposing I want to We have now to appeal to the press itself insinuate something against his character?' True, now we understand each other; that is indeed the for a refutation or reform. If it accept our question. I turn round at once from you, sir, the challenge, it must either prove its present critic-I appeal to the public. I ask them where practice not iniquitous, or else inevitable. is the benefit, what the advantage of attacking a man's person, not his book: his character, not his If it can do neither of these, it must show composition? Is criticism to be the act of personal why the brandmark of contempt should not vituperation? then let us send to Billingsgate for be stamped upon it. We have endeavored our reviewers, and have something racy and idiom- to lay bare the sophisms with which men atic, at least, in the way of slang. What purpose cheat themselves, and we pause for a resalutary to literature is served by hearing that Haz-ply." Silent contempt is a cheap refutation, litt had pimples on his face? How are poor Byron's but an unsatisfactory one; and if the press errors amended, by filthily groping among the details of his private life; by the muttered slanders; have none other, it is in a bad state. by the broad falsehoods, which filled the anonymous channels of the press? Was it not this system of espionage, more than any other cause, which dark ened with gloomy suspicion that mind, originally so noble? Was not the stinging of the lip the result of the stung heart? Slandered by others, his irritable mind retaliated by slander in return; the openness visible in his early character, hardened into insincerity, the constant product of suspicion, and instead of correcting the author, this species of criticism contributed to deprave the man." It is, in truth, very curious to consider the arguments by which the anonymous is defended, and to see how uniformly they resolve themselves into personal conveniences instead of duties-into radical iniquities instead of honest obstacles. There is something remarkable in the way in which the moralities of the question are coolly set aside for the conveniences; how duty becomes merged in the greater feeling of extra trouble or more restricted speech! The honest laborer, observing the glass at ninety degrees, declares gaining his bread by the sweat of his brow at such a temperature to be "full of practical inconvenience," and prefers, therefore, disregarding the baker's theory of prices," and steals a loaf. Tried for the offence, it is pronounced iniquitous in the name of the law. On the other hand, the luxurious critic, averse to trouble, condemns a work it would be fatiguing to read through, and with this condemnation robs the poor author of many loaves and of many joys-chills public enthusiasm and publish er's confidence, and tortures the author's 66 We accuse no one-but attack the system. We have throughout abstained from all personality, and consequently deprived ourselves of many a striking illustration, both of ignorance and malevolence; but by this means we have kept the question on abstract ground, where all men may meet and argue. We must again repeat, that the honorable exceptions to our sweeping assertions, it would have been tedious and invidious, if not impossible, to specify every man who knows himself honest, will be calm-every one who smarts under the accusation, de serves it. G. H. L. BORROW'S BIBLE IN SPAIN. INTRODUCTORY NOTE. Although our readers had somewhat of Mr. Borrow in the February number, we feel satisfied they will be ready to hear more of him. The subsequent article is from a different source, in another style, and presents extracts from the book altogether diverse from those quoted in the article from the London Quarterly.—ED. From the Examiner. The Bible in Spain; or the Journeys, Adven tures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman, in an Attempt to circulate the Scriptures in the Peninsula. By George Borrow, Author of the "Gypsies of Spain." 3 vols. Murray. THIS is a most remarkable book. Highly self-love. No trial is possible in this case, as we praised the Gypsies of Spain, much as we had reason to expect from any subse- Sage's hero, in the thieves' cavern, the archquent effort of the writer, we were certainly bishop's palace, or the minister's bureau. not prepared for any thing so striking as The Bible occupies a less important part of this. Apart from its adventurous interest, the narrative: but that is not the fault of its literary merit is extraordinary. Never Mr. Borrow. was book more legibly impressed with the unmistakable mark of genius. In speaking of the Gypsies of Spain we described the writer's mission to that counAs the living Alguazil of Madrid, notwith- try as the accredited agent of the British standing the modern reality of round hat, and Foreign Bible Society. The sudden coat, and pantaloons, at once recalled to break up of the priestly power seemed to Mr. Borrow the immortal truth of the Span- hold forth reasonable hope of success for ish spy and informer of Le Sage-we say such a mission, and Mr. Borrow not only of the Bible in Spain, that notwithstanding took large quantities of a Portuguese verits sober, grave, and truthful pretensions, it sion of the Scriptures with him, but authorihas of nothing reminded us so much as of ty, if he could get the needful sanction from dear delightful Gil Blas. It has surprising the Spanish Government, to superintend the vigor, raciness, and originality of style; printing of a Spanish Bible at Madrid, and the combination, in its narrative of extra- to undertake its distribution in the provinordinary minuteness, vivacity, and local ces. He found himself beset by all kinds truth; it has wonderful variety of grades of of difficulties, but though the zealous kindcharacter, and an unceasingly animated ness and support of Lord Clarendon failed interest of adventure; notwithstanding some to procure him the formal license he sought, peculiar and strongly-marked opinions of it enabled him to do many things which the the writer, it has a wide tolerance and an authorities were content to wink at. He untiring sympathy; notwithstanding the printed his Bible, and even wrote and printgravity of its purpose, its tone is gay, good-ed a translation-the first ever made of humored, witty and light-hearted: in a any book whatever-of one of the gospels word, it is a captivating book. Perhaps no into the gypsy dialect of Spain. But he man ever made so good a hero to himself seems to have made little actual way in as Mr. Borrow. He is of heroic stuff. their distribution. A great number appear Without a pretence or an affectation, he is to have taken them without any clear purconstantly before us: never compromising pose of making good use of them, and a a single opinion, he never forfeits a single greater number to have rejected them very sympathy. He is so evidently a pure-mind- nearly in the spirit of Mendizabal. My good ed, sincere, and honest man. He believes, sir-said that minister to Mr. Borrow" it loves, endures-or he disbelieves, hates, is not Bibles we want, but rather guns and contests-with almost childish singleness gunpowder, to put down the rebels 'with, and truth of heart. It is as impossible to and above all, money, that we may pay the doubt his creed in religion as to question troops; whenever you come with these his charity in social practice. You may three things you shall have a hearty welthink the one as narrow and sectarian as come, if not, we really can dispense with you please, but you cannot deny the univer your visits, however great the honor." Still sality and gentleness of the other. He he succeeded in not a few instances; and to shakes hands with the thief and translates note his pious and devout rapture when he the New Testament for him. He lays aside does succeed, is not less pleasing to the even religious pretensions, when respect earnest reader, than to mark his cheerful and the means of influence are to be other- unquenched sanguine hope, when he thowise attained; and becomes vagabond and roughly fails. gypsy, when to be merely an honest man engaged in a righteous cause had been to be nothing. Wonderful are his accomplishments. Even the greatest rascals of Madrid, Alguazils themselves, are brought to a pause by one who understands the seven gypsy jargons, and can ride a horse or dart a knife with the best Andalusian of them all. These qualities, we say, make a hero of Mr. Borrow, and whether he is with robbers, priests, or politicians, give us almost the same kind of interest that we take in Le But the interest of the Bible in Spain is quite apart from the amount of good fortune that attended the missionary labors of its writer. He was five years in the country, mixed with almost every class, and underwent every kind of adventure. He associated with gypsies, ministers, robbers, and priests: he was one with every class, in the forest, the field, the hut, the posada, the prison, and the palace. He reports a stirring scene, a noble landscape, a humorous and characteristic dialogue, with the pictaresque force, the dramatic gayety of Le Sage, with the pains-taking truth, the minute come paralytic, Batuscha! and your club reality of De Foe. He had no mere party has degenerated into a crutch." Nay, not opinions-having lived too long with "Rom- with the weight of a sick man's crutch did many Chals" to be of any politics but it descend on Borrow. He had hardly got gypsy politics and he saw the peasants of into prison, when they implored him to go every grade and in every circumstance. For quietly out. But he would have revenge, the most part he was as one of themselves and submission, and his imprisoners on travelling as a gypsy, a "London Caloro," their knees to him; moreover, he was rewith gypsies for servants and friends. solved to see all the tenants of the prison since he was there: and so our gallant Borrow, waited on with Castilian courtesy and politeness by a rascal of a jailer, staid out several days in the prison of Madrid. To overrate the value of opinions formed by such a man with such means of judgment, would be impossible. And Mr. Borrow's opinions of the Spanish people agree with those of the best observers that have been competent to give evidence on this subject. For the higher and 'better' classes he says little, but he maintains the common people to be sound at the core. The lamentable and the reprehensible he found among them, but neighbored by more that was noble and to be admired: much savage and horrible crime he encountered, as how could it otherwise be in a country so afflicted, but of low vulgar vice he appears to have seen little. In a word, he bears strong testimony to the natural vigor and resources of Spain, and to the fact that she is still a powerful and unexhausted country, and her children still to a certain extent a high-minded and great people. We rejoice above all to learn from him that the imbecile, cruel, and contemptible Carlos is generally hated, and most of all by the spirited Basques, and that priestcraft is extinguished for ever. Mr Borrow continually exults with jovial epithets of scorn over the utterly fallen, and prostrate, and never again to be lifted up. power of the Pope. "Undeceive yourself, Batuscha," says the excellent Borrow, "you have lost all your power!" It is a good scene where he bethinks himself of these things as they are conducting him into the prison at Madrid, for exceeding bounds in some of the duties of his mission. The court he is taken across is that where the last prince of the Austrian line was wont to enjoy his auto-da-féslicking his lips between each batch of sufferers, and wiping a face that perspired with the heat and was black with the smoke of the burnings. So, crossing this court, how natural was it that the dauntless Borrow should bethink him of the past. "Here am I-I who have done more to wound Popery than all the poor Christian martyrs that ever suffered in this accursed square-here am I, merely sent to prison, from which am sure to be liberated in a few days with credit and applause. Pope of Rome! I believe you malicious as ever, but you are sadly deficient in power. You are be I Here is one of his many admirable scenes, taken in the interior: "Observe, ye vain and frivolous, how vanity and crime harmonize. The Spanish robbers are as fond of this species of display as their brethren of other lands, and, whether in prison or out of it, are never so happy as when, decked out in a profusion of white linen, they can loll in the sun, or indeed, constitutes the principal feature in the walk jauntily up and down. Snow-white linen, robber foppery of Spain. Neither coat nor jacket is worn over the shirt, the sleeves of which are wide and flowing, only a waistcoat of green or blue silk, with an abundance of silver buttons, which are intended more for show than use, as the vest is seldom buttoned. Then there are wide around the waist is a crimson faja or girdle, and trousers, something after the Turkish fashion; about the head is tied a gaudily colored handkerchief from the loom of Barcelona; light pumps and silk stockings complete the robber's array. This dress is picturesque enough, and well adapted to the fine sunshiny weather of the Peninsula ; there is a dash of effeminacy about it, however, It must not, however, be supposed that it is every hardly in keeping with the robber's desperate trade. robber who can indulge in all this luxury; there are various grades of thieves, some poor enough, with scarcely a rag to cover them. Perhaps in the crowded prison of Madrid, there were not more than twenty who exhibited the dress which I have attempted to describe above; these were jente de reputacion, tip-top thieves, mostly young fellows, who, though they had no money of their own, were supported in prison by their majas and amigas, females of a certain class, who form friendships with robbers, and whose glory and delight it is to administer to the vanity of these fellows with the wages of their own shame and abasement. These females supplied their cortejos with the in the waters of the Manzanares, for the display of snowy linen, washed, perhaps, by their own hands the Sunday, when they would themselves make their appearance dressed à la naja, and from the corridors would gaze with admiring eyes upon the robbers vaporing about the court. "Amongst those of the snowy linen who most particularly attracted my attention, were a father and son; the former was a tall athletic figure of about thirty, by profession a house-breaker, and celebrated throughout Madrid for peculiar dexteri ty which he exhibited in his calling. He was now in prison for a rather atrocious murder, committed 6 6 in the dead of night, in a house at Caramanchel, but I don't get on the better for that. How is in which his only accomplice was his son, a child this?' say I, and I fall to spurring him. What under seven years of age. The apple,' as the happens then, brother? The wizard no sooner Danes say, had not fallen far from the tree;' the feels the prick than he bucks down, and flings me imp was in every respect the counterpart of the over his head into the fango. I get up and look father, though in miniature. He, too, wore the about me; there stands the donkey, staring at me, robber shirt sleeves, the robber waistcoat with the and there stand the whole gypsy canaille, squinting silver buttons, the robber kerchief round his brow, at me with their filmy eyes. Where is the scamp and, ridiculous enough, a long Manchegan knife in who has sold me this piece of furniture?' I shout. the crimson faja. He was evidently the pride of the He is gone to Granada, Valorous,' says one. ruffian father, who took all imaginable care ofHe is gone to his kindred among the Moors,' says this chick of the gallows, would dandle h im on another. I just saw him running over the fields, his knee, and would occasionally take the cigar in the direction of, with the devil close behind from his own moustached lips, and insert it in the him,' says a third. In a word, I am tricked, I urchin's mouth. The boy was the pet of the court, wish to dispose of the donkey; no one, however, for the father was one of the valientes of the prison, will buy him; he is a Calo donkey, and every and those who feared his powese, and wished to pay person avoids him. At last the gypsies offer thirty their court to him, were always fondling the child. rials for him; and after much chaffering I am glad What an enigma is this world of ours! How dark to get red of him at two dollars. It is all a trick, and mysterious are the sources of what is called however; he returns to his master, and the brother. crime and virtue! If that infant wretch become hood share the spoils among them. All which eventually a murderer like his father, is he to blame? villany would be prevented, in iny opinion, were the Fondled by robbers, already dressed as a robber, Calo language not spoken; for what but the word of born of a robber whose own history was perhaps a Calo could have induced the donkey to behave in similar. Is it right . . . ." such an unaccountable manner?" No-most excellent, true-hearted Borrow. We supply the blank which a Bible missionary could hardly fill, and answer it is not right. The gypsy illustrations have almost greater interest than those of the former work, in which there are no such amusing dialogues as those of the old Kommany hag with her proposals of marriage to her London Caloro, and no scenes so good as that which takes place in the little posado out of Badajoz, when our hero gets into a scrape by indiscreet use of the Calo or of gypsy language. No sooner is it heard that one of two ill-looking fellows, with enormous moustaches, turns round from his cigar and swears that if he catches another word of Calo, he will cudgel the bones of Borrow, and send him flying over the house-tops with a kick of his foot. 6 "You would do right,' said his companion: the insolence of these gypsies is no longer to be borne. When I am at Merida or Badajoz I go to the mercado, and there in a corner stand the accursed gypsies jabbering to each other in a specch which I understand not. Gypsy, gentlemen,' say I to one of them, what will you have for that donkey?' 'I will have ten dollars for it, Caballero nacional, says the gypsy; it is the best donkey in all Spain.' I should like to see its paces,' say I. That you shall, most valorous,' says the gypsy, and jumping upon its back, he puts it to its paces, first of all whispering something into its ear in Calo, and truly the paces of the donkey are most wonderful, such as I have never seen before. I think it will just suit me,' and after looking at it awhile, I take out the money and pay for it. I shall go to my house,' says the gypsy; and off he runs. I shall go to my village,' say I, and I mount the donkey. Vamonos,' say I, but the donkey won't move. I give him a switch, It is difficult to be moderate in our ex tracts, but have we not said enough to send the reader to the book itself! THE GOATHERD AND HIS FAITH. beast, which he told me was a lontra, or otter, which A CATALAN AND HIS WIFE. The "There was one in particular, a burly, savagelooking fellow, of about forty, whose conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the door of a room which opened upon the court; he was continually venting horrible and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and Catalan. woman was remarkably handsome, but robust, and seemingly as savage as himself; her conversation likewise was as frightful as his own. Both seemed to be under the influence of an incomprehensible fury. At last, upon some observation from the woman, he started up, and, drawing a long knife from his girdle, stabbed at her naked bosom; she however, interposed the palm of her hand, which "Myself. I have never read his writings. I was much cut. He stood for a moment, viewing | have no doubt that he was a Solon, and, as you say, a the blood trickling upon the ground, whilst she held Plato. I should scarcely have thought, however, that up her wounded hand, then, with an astounding he could be ranked, as a poet, with Lope de Vega. oath, he hurried up the court to the Plaza. I went "Alcalde.-How surprising! I see, indeed, that up to the woman, and said, 'What is the cause of you know nothing of his writings, though an Engthis? I hope the ruffian has not seriously injured lishman. Now, here am I, a simple alcalde of Gayou." She turned her countenance upon me with licia, yet I possess all the writings of Baintham on the glance of a demon, and at last, with a sneer of that shelf, and I study them day and night. contempt, exclaimed, Caráls, que es eso? Cannot "Myself. You doubtless, sir, possess the Enga Catalan gentleman be conversing with his ladylish language. upon their own private affairs without being interrupted by you?' She then bound up her hand with a handkerchief and, going into the room, brought a small table to the door, on which she placed several things, as if for the evening's repast, and then sat down on a stool; presently returned the Cata-ity and rudeness which you have experienced. But lan, and without a word took his seat on the threshold; then, as if nothing had occurred, the extraordinary couple commenced eating and drinking, interlarding their meal with oaths and jests." A TOUCHING PICTURE. "Alcalde. I do. I mean that part of it which is contained in the writings of Baintham. I am most truly glad to see a countryman of his in these Gothic wildernesses. I understand and appreciate your motives for visiting them: excuse the incivilwe will endeavor to make you reparation. You are this moment free: but it is late; I must find you a lodging for the night. I know one close by, which will just suit you; let us repair thither this moment. Stay, I think I see a book in your hand. Myself.-The New Testament. "Alcalde.-What book is that? 66 66 Myself.-A portion of the sacred writings, the Bible. "Alcalde. Why do you carry such a book with you? 66 place. "Alcalde.--Ha, ha! how very singular. Yes, I remember. I have heard that the English bighly prize this eccentric book. How very singular that the countrymen of the grand Baintham should set any value upon that old monkish book." "The banks of the Duero in this place have much beauty: they abound with trees and brushwood, amongst which, as we passed along, various birds were singing melodiously. A delicious coolness proceeded from the water, which in some parts brawled over stones or rippled fleetly over white Myself.-One of my principal motives in visitsand, and in others glided softly over the blue poolsing Finisterra was to carry this book to that wild of considerable depth. By the side of one of these last, sat a woman of about thirty, neatly dressed as a peasant; she was gazing upon the water, into which she occasionally flung flowers and twigs of trees. I stopped for a moment to ask a question; she, however, neither looked up nor answered, but continued gazing at the water, as if lost to consciousness of all beside. Who is that woman?' said I to a shepherd, whom I met the moment after. She is mad, la pobrecita,' said he; she lost her child about a month ago in that pool, and she has been mad ever since; they are going to send her to Valladolid, to the Casa de los Locos. There are many who perish every year in the eddies of the Duero; it is a bad river; vaya usted con la Virgen, Caballero.' So I rode on through the pinares, or thin scanty pine forests, which skirt the way to Valladolid in this direction." BORROW'S DIALOGUE WITH A LIBERAL ALCALDE. "Alcalde.-The inhabitants of Finisterra are brave, and are all liberals. Allow me to look at your passport? Yes, all in form. Truly, it was very ridiculous that they should have arrested you asa Carlist. "Myself. Not only as a Carlist, but as Don Carlos himself. "Alcalde.-Oh, most ridiculous! mistake a countryman of the grand Baintham for such a Goth! "Myself.-Excuse me, sir, you speak of the grand somebody. "Alcalde. The grand Baintham. He who has invented laws for all the world. I hope shortly to see them adopted in this unhappy country of ours. Myself.-Oh! you mean Jeremy Bentham. Yes, a very remarkable man in his way. 66 "Alcalde. In his way! in all ways. The most universal genius which the world ever produced; a Solon, a Plato, and a Lope de Vega. TRAFALGAR. "Huge fragments of wreck stil: frequently emerge from the watery gulf whose billows chafe the rocky sides of Trafalgar; they are relics of the enormous ships which were burnt and sunk on that terrible day, when the heroic champion of Britain concluded his work and died. I never heard but one individual venture to say a word in disparage ment of Nelson's glory; it was a pert American, who observed that the British admiral was much overrated. Can that individual be overrated,' replied a stranger, whose every thought was bent on his country's honor, who scarcely ever fought without leaving a piece of his body in the fray, and who, not to speak of minor triumphs, was victorious in two such actions as Aboukir and Trafalgar?'" AN INCIDENT ON BORROW'S PASSAGE TO SPAIN. "I was on the forecastle, discoursing with two of the sailors: one of them, who had but just left is hammock, said, 'I have had a strange dream, which I do not much like; for,' continued he, pointing up to the mast, I dreamt that I fell into the sea from the cross-trees.' He was heard to say this by several of the crew besides myself. A moment after, the captain of the vessel, perceiving that the squall was increasing, ordered the topsails to be taken in; whereupon this man with several others instantly ran aloft; the yard was in the act of being hauled down, when a sudden gust of wind whirled it round with violence, and a man was struck down from the cross-trees into the sea, which was working like yeast below. In a few moments he emerged. |