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Title: A Year's Journey through France and Part of Spain, 1777
Volume 1 (of 2)
Author: Philip Thicknesse
Release Date: August 8, 2005 [EBook #16485]
Language: English
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A
YEAR'S JOURNEY
THROUGH
FRANCE,
AND
PART OF SPAIN.
BY
PHILIP THICKNESSE.
VOLUME I
DUBLIN
Printed by J. Williams, (No. 21.) Skinner-Row.
M,DCC,LXXVII.
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| Transcriber's Note: The long-s has been modernized to s. |
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A
JOURNEY, &c.
* * * * *
LETTER I
CALAIS, June 20th, 1775
DEAR SIR,
As you are kind enough to say, that those letters which I wrote from
this kingdom, nine or ten years ago, were of some use to you, in the
little tour you made through France soon after, and as they have been
considered in some degree to be so to many other persons, (since their
publication) who were unacquainted with the manners and customs of the
French nation, I shall endeavour to bring together, in this second
correspondence with you, not only some of the former hints I gave you,
but such other remarks as a longer acquaintance with the country, and a
more extensive tour, may furnish me with; but before I proceed any
further, let me remind you, of one great fault I was then guilty of; for
though your partiality to me might induce you to overlook it, the public
did not, I mean that of writing when my temper was disturbed, either by
cross incidents I met with upon the road, or disagreeable news which
often followed me from my own country into this. I need not tell a man
of your discernment, in what a different light all objects, whether
animate, or inanimate, appear to those, whose temper is disturbed,
either by ill health, ill treatment, or, what is perhaps more prevalent
than either, the chagrin he may feel at not being rated in the
estimation of others, according to that value he puts upon himself.
Could Dr. Smollett rise from the dead, and sit down in perfect health,
and good temper, and read his travels through France and Italy, he
would probably find most of his anger turned upon himself. But, poor
man! he was ill; and meeting with, what every stranger must expect to
meet at most French inns, want of cleanliness, imposition, and
incivility; he was so much disturbed by those incidents, that to say no
more of the writings of an ingenious and deceased author, his travels
into France, and Italy, are the least entertaining, in my humble
opinion, of all his works. Indeed I have observed that most travellers
fall into one extreme, or the other, and either are all panegyric or all
censure; in which case, all they say cannot be just; for, as all nations
are governed by men, and the bulk of men of all nations live by artifice
of one kind or other, the few men who pass among them, without any
sinister views, cannot avoid feeling, and but few from complaining of
the ill treatment they meet with; not considering one of Swift's shrewd
remarks; _I never_ said he, _knew a man who could not bear the
misfortunes of another perfectly like a Christian_.
Remember therefore, when I tell you how ill I have been treated either
by _Lords_ or _Aubergists_, or how dirtily served by either, it is to
prepare myself and you too, to be content with neighbours' fare.
When a man writes remarks upon the manners and customs of other nations,
he should endeavour to wean himself from all partiality for his own; and
I need not tell you that I am in _full possession_ of that single
qualification, which I hope will make you some amends for my defects in
all the others; for it is certainly unjust, uncandid, and illiberal, to
pronounce a custom or fashion absurd, because it does not coincide with
our ideas of propriety. A Turk who travelled into England, would, upon
his return to Constantinople, tell his countrymen, that at Canterbury;
(bring out of _opium_,) his host did not know even what he demanded;
and that it was with some difficulty he found out, that there were shops
in the town where _opium_ was sold, and even then, it was with greater,
he could prevail upon the vender of it to let him have above half an
ounce: if he were questioned, why all these precautions? he would tell
them, laughingly, that Englishmen believe _opium_ to be a deadly poison,
and those people suspected that he either meant to kill himself, or to
poison another man with it.
A French gentleman, who travelled some years since into Spain, had
letters of recommendation to a Spanish Bishop, who received him with
every mark of politeness, and treated him with much hospitality: soon
after he retired to his bedchamber, a priest entered it,[A] holding a
vessel in his hand, which was covered with a clean napkin; he said
something; but the Frenchman understanding but little Spanish,
intimated by signs his thanks, and desired him to put it down,
believing, that his friend, the Bishop, had sent him a plate of
sweetmeats, fruit, iced cream, or some kind of refreshment to eat before
he went to bed, or to refresh his exhausted spirits in the night; but
his astonishment was great indeed, when he found the priest put the
present under the side of the bed; and more so, when he perceived that
it was only a _pot de chambre_;--for, says the Frenchman, "in Spain,
they do not use the _chaise percee_!" The Frenchman is surprized at the
Spaniard, for not using so convenient a vehicle; the Englishman is
equally surprized, that the Frenchman does;--the Frenchman is always
attentive to his own person, and scarce ever appears but clean and well
dressed; while his house and private apartments are perhaps covered with
litter and dirt, and in the utmost confusion;--the Englishman, on the
other hand, often neglects his external dress; but his house is always
exquisitely clean, and every thing in it kept in the nicest order; and
who shall say, which of the two judge the best for their own ease and
happiness? I am sure the Frenchman will not give up his powdered hair,
and laced coat, for a clean house; nor do I believe those fineries would
sit quietly upon the back of an Englishman, in a dirty one. In short, my
dear sir, we must take the world, and the things in it, as they are; it
is a dirty world, but like France, has a vast number of good things in
it, and such as I meet with, in this my third tour, which shall be a
long one, if I am not _stopped_ by the way, you shall have such an
account of as I am able to convey to you: I will not attempt to _top the
traveller_ upon you, nor raise monuments of wonder, where none are to be
seen; there is real matter enough to be found upon this great continent,
to amuse a man who travels slowly over it, to see what is to be seen,
and who wishes not to be seen himself. My style of travelling is such,
that I can never be disturbed in mind for want of respect, but rather be
surprised when I meet with even common civility. And, after all, what
does it signify, whether Monsieur _ou Tel_ travels in a laced coat _et
très bien mis_, attended by half a dozen servants, or, as Pope says,
"will run
The Lord knows whither in a chaise and one."
I am, your's &c.
[A] The Bishops in Spain are attended and waited upon by inferior
clergy.
LETTER II.
June 25th, 1766.
Before I leave Calais, let me remind you, that an English guinea is
worth more than a _Louis d'or_; and observe, that the first question _my
friend Mons. Dessein_, at the _Hotel D'Angleterre_ will put to you,
(after he has made his bow, and given you a side look, as a cock does at
a barley-corn) is, whether you have any guineas to change? because he
gets by each guinea, full weight, ten _Sols_. By this hint, you will
conclude, he will not, upon your return, ask you for your French Gold;
but in this too you will be mistaken, for he finds an advantage in that
also; he will, not indeed give you guineas, but, in lieu thereof, he has
always a large quantity of _Birmingham Shillings_, to truck with you for
your _Louis d'ors_. I am afraid, when Lord North took into
consideration the state of the gold coin, he did not know, that the
better state it is put into in England, is the surest means of
transporting it into France, and other countries; and that scarce a
single guinea which travellers carry with them to France, (and many
hundred go every week) ever returns to England: Beside this, the
quantity of gold carried over to the ports of _Dunkirk_, _Boulogne_, and
_Calais_, by the Smugglers, who always pay ready money, is incredible;
but as money, and matters of that kind, are what I have but _little
concern in_, I will not enlarge upon a subject no way interesting to me,
and shall only observe, that my landlord, _Mons. Dessein_, who was
behind-hand with the world ten years ago, is now become one of the
richest men in _Calais_, has built a little Theatre in his garden, and
has united the profitable business of a Banker, to that of a Publican;
and by studying the _Gout_ of the English nation, and changing their
gold into French currency, has made, they say, a _Demi Plumb_.
Notwithstanding the contiguity of _Calais_ to England, and the great
quantity of poultry, vegetables, game, &c. which are bought up every
market-day, and conveyed to your coast, I am inclined to believe, there
are not many parts of France where a man, who has but little money, can
make it go further than in this town; nor is there any town in England,
where the fishery is conducted with so much industry.
Yesterday I visited my unfortunate daughter, at the convent at
_Ardres_;--but why do I say unfortunate? She is unfortunate only, in the
eyes of the world, not in her own; nor indeed in mine, because she
assured me she is happy. I left her here, you know, ten years ago, by
way of education, and learning the language; but the small-pox, which
seized her soon after, made such havock on a face, rather favoured by
nature, that she desired to hide it from the world, and spend her life
in that retirement, which I had chosen only to qualify her _for_ the
world. I left her a child; I found her a sensible woman; full of
affection and duty; and her mangled and seamed face, so softened by an
easy mind, and a good conscience, that she appeared in my partial eyes,
rather an agreeable than a plain woman; but she did not omit to signify
to me, that what others considered her misfortune, she considered (as it
was not her fault) a happy circumstance; "if my face is plain (said she)
my heart is light, and I am sure it will make as good a figure in the
earth, as the fairest, and most beautiful." My only concern is, that I
find the _Prieure_ of this convent, either for want of more knowledge,
or more money, or both, had received, as parlour boarders, some English
ladies of very suspicious characters. As the conversation of such women
might interrupt, and disturb that peace and tranquillity of mind, in
which I found my daughter, I told the _Prieure_ my sentiments on that
subject, not only with freedom, but with some degree of severity; and
endeavoured to convince her, how very unwarrantably, if not
irreligiously she acted. An abandoned, or vicious woman, may paint the
pleasures of this world in such gaudy colours, to a poor innocent Nun,
so as to induce her to forget, or become less attentive to the
professions she has made to the next.
It was near this town, you know, that the famous interview passed
between Henry the Eighth, and _Francis_ the First, in the year 1520; and
though it lasted twenty-eight days, and was an event which produced at
that time so many amusements to all present, and so much conversation
throughout Europe, the inhabitants of this, town, or Calais, seem to
know little of it, but that one of the bastions at _Ardres_ is called
the Bastion of the Two Kings.--There still remains, however, in the
front of one of the houses in _Calais_, upon an ornamented stone, cut in
old letter,
=God Save the King=;
And I suppose that stone was put, where it now remains, by some loyal
subject, before the King arrived, as it is in a street which leads from
the gate (now stopped up) which Henry passed through.
LETTER III.
In a very few days I shall leave this town, and having procured letters
of recommendation from some men of fashion, now in England, to their
friends in _Spain_, I am determined to traverse this, and make a little
tour into that kingdom; so you may expect something more from me, than
merely such remarks as may be useful to you on any future tour you make
in France; I mean to conduct you at least over the _Pyrenean_ hills to
_Barcelona_; for, though I have been two or three times before in Spain,
it was early in life, and when my mind was more employed in observing
the _customs_ and _manors_ of the birds, and beasts of the field, than
of their lords and masters, and made too, on the other side of that
kingdom. Having seen as much of Paris as I desired, some years ago, I
intend to pass through the provinces of _Artois_, _Champaigne_,
_Bourgogne_, and so on to _Lyons_; by which route you will perceive, I
shall leave the capital of this kingdom many leagues on my right hand,
and see some considerable towns, and taste now and then of the most
delicious wines, on the spots which produce them; beside this, I have a
great desire to see the remains of a Roman subterranean town, lately
discovered in _Champaigne_, which perhaps may gratify my curiosity in
some degree, and thereby lessen that desire I have: long had of visiting
_Herculaneum_, an _under-ground_ town you know, I always said I would
visit, if a certain person happened to be put _under-ground_ before me;
but the CAUSE, and the event, in all human affairs, are not to be
fathomed by men; for though the event happened, the _cause_ frustrated
my design; and I must cross the _Pyranean_ not the _Alpian_ hills. But
lest I forget it, let me tell you, that as my travelling must be upon
the frugal plan, I have sold my four-wheel post-chaise, to _Mons.
Dessein_, for twenty-two guineas, and bought a French _cabriolet_, for
ten, and likewise a very handsome English coach-horse, (a little touched
in the wind indeed) for seven. This equipage I have fitted up with every
convenience I can contrive, to carry me, my wife, two daughters, and all
my _other_ baggage; you will conclude therefore, _light_ as the latter
may be, we are _bien charge_; but as we move slowly, not above seven
leagues a day, I shall have the more leisure to look about me, and to
consider what sort of remarks may prove most worthy of communicating
from time to time to you. I shall be glad to leave this town, though it
is in one respect, something like your's,[B] everyday producing many
_strange faces_, and some very agreeable acquaintance. The arrival of
the packet-boats from Dover constitutes the principal amusement of this
town.
[B] BATH.
The greater part of the English _transports_ who come over, do not
proceed much further than to see the tobacco plantations near _St.
Omer_'s; nor is their return home less entertaining than their arrival,
as many of them are people of such _quick parts_, that they acquire, in
a week's tour to _Dunkirk_, _Bologne_, and _St. Omer_'s, the _language_,
dress and manners of the country. You must not, however, expect to hear
again from me, till I am further _a-field_. But lest I forget to mention
it in a future letter, let me refresh your memory, as to your conduct at
Dover, at Sea, and at _Calais_. In the first of these three disagreeable
places, (and the first is the worst) you will soon be applied to by one
of the Captains of the packets, or bye-boats, and if you hire the boat
to yourself, he will demand five guineas; if you treat with another, it
is all one, because they are all, except one, partners and equally
interested; and therefore will abate nothing. Captain Watson is the
only one who _swims upon his own bottom_; and as he is a good seaman,
and has a clean, convenient, nay an elegant vessel, I would rather turn
the scale in his favour, because I am, as you will be, an enemy to all
associations which have a tendency to imposition upon the public, and
oppression to such who will not join in the general confederacy; yet I
must, in justice to the Captains of the confederate party, acknowledge,
that their vessels are all good; _well found_; and that they are civil,
decent-behaved men. As it is natural for them to endeavour to make the
most of each _trip_, they will, if they can, foist a few passengers upon
you, even after you have taken the vessel to your own use only. If you
are alone, this intrusion is not agreeable, but if you have ladies with
you, never submit to it; if they introduce men, who appear like
gentlemen upon your vessel, you cannot avoid treating them as such; if
women, you cannot avoid them treating them with more attention than may
be convenient, because they _are_ women; but were it only in
consideration of the sea-sickness and its _consequences_, can any thing
be more disagreeable than to admit people to _pot_ and _porringer_ with
you, in a small close cabin, with whom you would neither eat, drink, or
converse, in any other place? but these are not the only reasons; every
gentleman going to France should avoid making new acquaintance, at
Dover, at Sea, or at _Calais_: many _adventurers_ are always passing,
and many honest men are often led into grievous and dangerous situations
by such inconsiderate connections; nay, the best, and wisest men, are
the most liable to be off their guard, and therefore you will excuse my
pointing it out to you.
I could indeed relate some alarming consequences, nay, some fatal ones,
which have befallen men of honour and character in this country, from
such unguarded connections; and such as they would not have been drawn
into, on the other side of the "_invidious Streight_." When an
Englishman leaves his own country, and is got no further from it than to
this town, he looks back upon it with an eye of partial affection; no
wonder then, if he feels more disposed to be kind to a countryman and a
stranger he may meet in this.--I do not think it would be difficult to
point out, what degree of intimacy would arise between two men who knew
but little of each other, according to the part of the world they were
to meet in.--I remember the time, when I only knew your person, and
coveted your acquaintance; at that time we lived in the same town, knew
each other's general character, but passed without speaking, or even the
compliment of the hat; yet had we met in London, we should certainly
have taken some civil notice of each other: had the interview been at
York, it is five to one but it would have produced a conversation: at
Edinburgh, or Dublin, we should have dined, or gone to the play
together: but if we had met at Barbadoes, I should have been invited to
spend a month at your PENN, and experienced many of those marks of
hospitality, friendship, and generosity, I have found from the Creoles
in general. When you get upon the French coast, the packet brings to,
and is soon boarded by a French boat, to carry the passengers on shore;
this passage is much longer than it appears to be, is always
disagreeable, and sometimes dangerous; and the landing, if the water be
very low, intolerable: in this case, never mind the advice of the
Captain; his advice is, and must be regulated by his _own_ and his
owner's interest, more than your convenience; therefore stay on board
till there is water enough to sail up to the town, and be landed by a
plank laid from the packet to the shore, and do not suffer any body to
persuade you to go into a boat, or to be put on shore, by any other
method, tho' the _packet-men_ and the _Frenchmen_ unite to persuade you
so to do, because they are mutually benefited by putting you to more
expence, and the latter are entertained with seeing your cloaths
dirted, or the ladies _frighted_. If most of the packet-boats are in
_Calais_ harbour, your Captain will use every argument in his power to
persuade you to go on shore, in the French boat, because he will, in
that case, return directly to Dover, and thereby save eight-and-twenty
shillings port duty. When we came over, I prevailed upon a large company
to stay on board till there was water enough to sail into the harbour:
it is not in the power of the Captain to deceive you as to that matter,
because there is a red flag hoisted gradually higher and higher, as the
water flows into the harbour, at a little fort which stands upon
_stilts_ near the entrance of it. When you are got on shore, go directly
to _Dessein_'s; and be in no trouble about your baggage, horses, or
coach; the former will be all carried, by men appointed for that
purpose, safely to the Custom-house, and the latter wheeled up to your
_Hotel_, where you will sit down more quietly, and be entertained more
decently, than at Dover.
LETTER IV.
RHEIMS, in Champagne.
Little or nothing occurred to me worth remarking to you on my journey
hither, but that the province of _Artois_ is a fine corn country, and
that the French farmers seem to understand that business perfectly well.
I was surprised to find, near _St. Omer_'s, large plantations of
tobacco, which had all the vigour and healthy appearance of that which I
have seen grow in _poor_ America. On my way here, (like the countryman
in London, in gazing about) I missed my road; but a civil, and, in
appearance, a substantial farmer, conducted us half a league over the
fields, and marked out the course to get into it again, without
returning directly back, a circumstance I much hate, though perhaps it
might have been the shorter way. However, before I gained the high road,
I stumbled upon a private one, which led us into a little village
pleasantly situated, and inhabited by none other but the poorest
peasants; whose tattered habits, wretched houses, and smiling
countenances, convinced me, that chearfulness and contentment shake
hands oftener under thatched than painted roofs. We found one of these
villagers as ready to boil our tea-kettle, provide butter, milk, &c. as
we were for our breakfasts; and during the preparation of it, I believe
every man, woman, and child of the hamlet, was come down to _look at
us_; for beside that wonderful curiosity common to this whole nation,
the inhabitants of this village had never before seen an Englishman;
they had heard indeed often of the country, they said, and that it was
_un pays très riche_. There was such a general delight in the faces of
every age, and so much civility, I was going to say politeness, shewn
to us, that I caught a temporary chearfulness in this village, which I
had not felt for some months before, and which I intend to carry with
me. I therefore took out my guittar, and played till I set the whole
assembly in motion; and some, in spite of their wooden shoes, and others
without any, danced in a manner not to be seen among our English
peasants. They had "shoes like a sauce-boat," but no "steeple-clock'd
hose." While we breakfasted, one of the villagers fed my horse with some
fresh-mowed hay, and it was with some difficulty I could prevail upon
him to be paid for it, because the trifle I offered was much more than
his _Court of Conscience_ informed him it was worth. I could moralize
here a little; but I will only ask you, in which state think you man is
best; the untaught man, in that of nature, or the man whose mind is
enlarged by education and a knowledge of the world? The behaviour of
the inhabitants of this little hamlet had a very forcible effect upon
me; because it brought me back to my earlier days, and reminded me of
the reception I met with in America by what we now call the _Savage_
Indians; yet I have been received in the same courteous manner in a
little hamlet, unarmed, and without any other protection but by the law
of nature, by those _savages_;--indeed it was before the _Savages of
Europe_ had instructed them in the art of war, or Mr. Whitfield had
preached _methodism_ among them. Therefore, I only tell you what they
_were_ in 1735, not what they _are at present_. When I visited them,
they walked in the flowery paths of Nature; now, I fear, they tread the
polluted roads of blood. Perhaps of all the uncivilized nations under
the sun, the native Indians of America _were_ the most humane; I have
seen an hundred instances of their humanity and integrity;--when a white
man was under the lash of the executioner, at _Savannah in Georgia_,
for using an Indian woman ill, I saw _Torno Chaci_, their King, run in
between the offender and the corrector, saying, "_whip me, not
him_;"--the King was the complainant, indeed, but the man deserved a
much severer chastisement. This was a _Savage King_. Christian Kings too
often care not who is whipt, so they escape the smart.
LETTER V.
RHEIMS.
We arrived at this city before the bustle which the coronation of
_Louis_ the 16th occasioned was quite over; I am sorry I did not see it,
because I now find it worth seeing; but I staid at _Calais_ on purpose
to avoid it; for having paid two guineas to see the coronation of George
the Third, I determined never more to be put to any extraordinary
expence on the score of _crowned heads_. However, my curiosity has been
well gratified in hearing it talked over, and over again, and in reading
_Marmontell_'s letter to a friend upon that subject; but I will not
repeat what he, or others have said upon the occasion, because you have,
no doubt, seen in the English papers a tolerably good one; only that the
Queen was so overcome with the repeated shouts and plaudits of her new
subjects, that she was obliged to retire. The fine Gothic cathedral, in
which the ceremony was performed, is indeed a church worthy of such a
solemnity; the portal is the finest I ever beheld; the windows are
painted in the very best manner; nor is there any thing within the
church but what should be there. I need not tell you that this is the
province which produces the most delicious wine in the world; but I will
assure you, that I should have drank it with more pleasure, had you been
here to have partook of it. In the cellars of one wine-merchant, I was
conducted through long passages more like streets than caves; on each
side of which, bottled _Champaigne_ was piled up some feet higher than
my head, and at least twelve deep. I bought two bottles to taste, of
that which the merchant assured me was each of the best sort he had, and
for which I paid him six livres: if he sells all he had in bottles at
that time, and at the same price, I shall not exceed the bounds of truth
if I say, I saw ten thousand pounds worth of bottled _Champaigne_ in
his cellars. Neither of the bottles, however, contained wine so good as
I often drank in England; but perhaps we are deceived, and find it more
palatable by having sugar in it; for I suspect that most of the
_Champaigne_ which is bottled for the use of English consumption, is so
prepared. That you may know however, for the future, whether Champaigne
or any other wine is so adulterated, I will give you an infallible
method to prove:--fill a small long-necked bottle with the wine you
would prove, and invert the neck of it into a tumbler of clear water; if
the wine be genuine, it will all remain in the bottle; if adulterated,
with sugar, honey, or any other sweet substance, the sweets will all
pass into the tumbler of water, and leave the genuine wine behind. The
difference between still _Champaigne_, and that which is _mousser_, is
owing to nothing more than the time of the year in which it is bottled.
I found in this town an English gentleman, from whom we received many
civilities, and who made us acquainted with a French gentleman and lady,
whose partiality to the English nation is so great, that their
neighbours call their house "THE ENGLISH HOTEL." The partiality of such
a family is a very flattering, as well as a very pleasing circumstance,
to those who are so happy to be known to them, because they are not only
the first people in the town, but the _best_; and in point of talents,
inferior to none, perhaps, in the kingdom. I must not, after saying so
much, omit to tell you, it is _Monsieur & Madame de Jardin_, of whom I
speak; they live in the GRANDE PLACE, _vis-a-vis_ the statue of the
King; and if ever you come to Rheims, be assured you will find it a GOOD
PLACE. _Madame de Jardin_ is not only one of the highest-bred women in
France, but one of the first in point of letters, and that is saying a
great deal, for France abounds more with women of that turn than
England. Mrs. Macaulay, Mrs. Carter, Miss Aikin, and Mrs. Montague, are
the only four ladies I can recollect in England who are celebrated for
their literary genius; in France, I could find you a score or two. To
give you some idea of the regard and affection _Mons. de Jardin_ has for
his wife,--for French husbands, now and then, love their wives as well
as we Englishmen do,--I send you a line I found in his study, wrote
under his lady's miniature picture:
"Chaque instant à mes yeux la rend
Plus estimable."
This town stands in a vast plain, is of great extent, and enclosed
within high walls, and a deep ditch. The public walks are of great
extent, nobly planted, and the finest in the whole kingdom. It is,
indeed, a large and opulent city, and abounds not only with the best
wine, but every thing that is good; and every thing is plenty, and
consequently cheap. The fruit market, in particular, is superior to
every thing of the kind I ever beheld; but I will not tantalize you by
saying any more upon that subject. Adieu!
_P.S._ The Antiquarian will find amusement in this town. There are some
Roman remains worthy of notice; but such as require the information of
the inhabitant to be seen.
LETTER VI.
DIJON.
You will laugh, perhaps, when I tell you, I could hardly refrain from
tears when I took leave of the _De Jardin_ family at _Rheims_,--but so
it was. Good-breeding, and attention, have so much the appearance of
friendship, that they may, and often do, deceive the most discerning
men;--no wonder, then, if I was unhappy in leaving a town, where I am
sure I met with the first, and had some reason to believe I should have
found the latter, had we staid to cultivate it. _Bourgogne_ is, however,
a much finer province than Champaigne; and this town is delightfully
situated; that it is a cheap province, you will not doubt, even to
English travellers, when I tell you, that I had a good supper for four
persons, three decent beds, good hay, and plenty of corn, for my horse,
at an inn upon this road, and was charged only four livres ten sols!
not quite four shillings. Nor was it owing to any mistake; for I lay the
following night at just such another inn, and was charged just the same
price for nearly the same entertainment. They were carriers' inns,
indeed, but I know not whether they were not, upon the whole, better,
and cleaner too, than some of the town _auberges_. I need not therefore
tell you, I was straggled a little out of _le Route Anglois_, when I
found such a _bon Marche_.
Dijon is pleasantly situated, well built, and the country round about it
is as beautiful as nature could well make it. The shady walks round the
whole town are very pleasing, and command a view of the adjacent
country. The excellence of the wine of this province, you are better
acquainted with than I am; though I must confess, I have drank better
burgundy in England than I have yet tasted here: but I am not surprized
at that; for at Madeira I could not get wine that was even tolerable.
I found here, two genteel English gentlemen, Mess. Plowden and Smyth,
from whom we received many marks of attention and politeness.--Here, I
imagined I should be able to bear seeing the execution of a man, whose
crimes merited, I thought, the severest punishment. He was broke upon
the wheel; so it is called; but the wheel is what the body is fixed upon
to be exposed on the high road after the execution. This man's body,
however, was burnt. The miserable wretch (a young strong man) was
brought in the evening, by a faint torch light, to a chapel near the
place of execution, where he might have continued in prayer till
midnight; but after one hour spent there, he walked to, and mounted the
scaffold, accompanied by his confessor, who with great earnestness
continually presented to him, and bade him kiss, the crucifix he
carried in his hand. When the prisoner came upon the scaffold, he very
willingly laid himself upon his back, and extended his arms and legs
over a cross, that was laid flat and fixed fast upon the scaffold for
that purpose, and to which he was securely tied by the executioner and
his mother, who assisted her son in this horrid business. Part of the
cross was cut away, in eight places, so as to leave a hollow vacancy
where the blows were to be given, which are, between the shoulder and
elbow, elbow and wrist, thigh and knee, and knee and ancle. When the man
was securely tied down, the end of a rope which was round his neck, with
a running noose, was brought through a hole in and under the scaffold;
this was to give the _Coup de Grace_, after breaking: a _Coup_ which
relieved him, and all the agitated spectators, from an infinite degree
of misery, except only, the executioner and his mother, for they both
seemed to enjoy the deadly office. When the blows were given, which
were made with a heavy piece of iron, in the form of a butcher's
cleaver without an edge, the bones of the arms and legs were broke in
eight places; at each blow, the sufferer called out, O God! without
saying another word, or even uttering a groan. During all this time, the
Confessor called upon him continually to kiss the cross, and to remember
Christ, his Redeemer. Indeed, there was infinite address, as well as
piety, in the conduct of the Confessor; for he would not permit this
miserable wretch to have one moment's reflection about his bodily
sufferings, while a matter of so much more importance was depending; but
even those eight blows seemed nothing to two dreadful after-claps, for
the executioner then untied the body, turned his back upwards, and gave
him two blows on the small of the back with the same iron weapon; and
yet even that did not put an end to the life and sufferings of the
malefactor! for the finishing stroke was, after all this, done by the
halter, and then the body was thrown into a great fire, and consumed to
ashes. There were two or three executions soon after, but of a more
moderate kind. Yet I hope I need not tell you, that I shall never attend
another; and would feign have made my escape from this, but it was
impossible.--Here, too, I saw upwards of fourscore criminals linked
together, by one long chain, and so they were to continue till they
arrived in the galleys at _Marseilles_. Now I am sure you will be, as I
was, astonished to think, an old woman, the mother of the executioner,
should willingly assist in a business of so horrid a nature; and I dare
say, you will be equally astonished that the magistrates of the city
permitted it. Decency, and regard to the sex, alone, one would think,
should have put a stop to a practice so repugnant to both; and yet
perhaps, not one person in the town considered it in that light. Indeed,
no other person would have assisted, and the executioner must have done
all the business himself, if his mother had not been one of that part
of the _fair sex_, which Addison pleasantly mentions, "_as rakers of
cinders_;" for the executioner could not have found a single person to
have given him any assistance. There was a guard of the _Marechaussee_,
to prevent the prisoners' escape; but none that would have lifted up a
little finger towards forwarding the execution; the office is hereditary
and infamous, and the officer is shut out of all society. His
perquisites, however, were considerable; near ten pounds, I think, for
this single execution; and he had a great deal more business coming on.
I would not have given myself the pain of relating, nor you the reading,
the particulars of this horrid affair, but to observe, that it is such
examples as these, that render travelling in France, in general, secure.
I say, in general; for there are, nevertheless, murders committed very
frequently upon the high roads in France; and were those murders to be
made known by news-papers, as ours are in England, perhaps it would
greatly intimidate travellers of their own, as well as other nations.
But as the murdered, and murderers, are generally foot-travellers,
though the dead body is found, the murderer is escaped; and as nobody
knows either party, nobody troubles themselves about it. All over
France, you meet with an infinite number of people travelling on foot,
much better dressed than you find, in general, the stagecoach gentry in
England. Most of these foot-travellers are young expensive tradesmen,
and artists, who have paid their debts by a light pair of heels; when
their money is exhausted, the stronger falls upon the weaker, knocks out
his brains, and furnishes himself with a little money; and these murders
are never scarce heard of above a league from the place where they are
committed; for which reason, you never meet a foot-traveller in France,
without arms, of one kind or other, and carried for one _purpose_, or
the _other_. Gentlemen, however, who travel only in the day-time, and
who are armed, have but little danger to apprehend; yet it is necessary
to be upon their guard when they pass through great woods, and to keep
in the _middle_ of the road, so as not to be too suddenly surprized;
because a _convenient_ opportunity may induce two or three _honest_
travellers to embrace a favourable occasion of replenishing their
purses; and as they always murder those whom they attack, if they can,
those who are attacked should never submit, but defend themselves to the
utmost of their power. Though the woods are dangerous, there are, in my
opinion, plains which are much more so; a high hill which commands an
extensive plain, from which there is a view of the road some miles, both
ways, is a place where a robber has nothing to fear but from those whom
he attacks; and he is morally certain of making his escape one way or
the other: but in a wood, he may be as suddenly surprized, as he is in a
situation to surprize others; for this reason, I have been more on my
guard when I have seen people approach me on an extensive plain, than
when I have passed through deep woods; nor would I ever let any of those
people come too near my chaise; I always shewed them the _utmost
distance_, and made them return the compliment, by bidding them, if they
offered to come out of their line, to keep off: this said in a
peremptory manner, and with a stern look, is never taken ill by honest
men, and has a forcible effect upon rascals, for they immediately
conclude you think yourself superior to them, and then they will think
so too: whatever comes unexpected, is apt to dismay; whole armies have
been seized with a panic from the most trifling artifice of the opposite
general, and such as, by a minute's reflection, would have produced a
contrary effect: the King's troops gave way at Falkirk; the reason was,
they were dismayed at seeing the rebels (_I beg pardon_) come down
_pell mell_ to attack them with their broad swords! it was a new way of
fighting, and, they weakly thought, an invincible one; but had General
Cope previously rode through the ranks, and apprised the troops with the
manner of their fighting, and assured them how feeble the effect of such
weapons would be upon men armed with musket and bayonet, which is
exactly the truth, not a man would have retired; yet, _trim-tram_, they
all ran, and the General, it is said, gave the earliest notice of his
own defeat! But I should have observed, above, that the laws of France
being different, in different provinces, have the contrary effect in the
southern parts, to what they were intended. The _Seigneur_ on whose land
a murdered body is found, is obliged to pay the expence of bringing the
criminal to justice. Some of these lordships are very small; and the
prosecuting a murderer to punishment, would cost the lord of the manor
more than his whole year's income; it becomes his interest, therefore,
to hide the dead body, rather than pursue the living villain; and, as
whoever has property, be it ever so small, has peasants about him who
will be glad to obtain his favour, he is sure that when any of these
peasants see a murdered body, they will give him the earliest notice,
and the same night the body is for ever hid, and no enquiry is made
after the offender. I saw hang on the road side, a family of nine, a
man, his wife, and seven children, who had lived many years by murder
and robberies; and I am persuaded that road murders are very common in
France; yet people of any condition may nevertheless, travel through
France with great safety, and always obtain a guard of the
_Marechaussee_, through woods or forests, or where they apprehend there
is any danger.
_P.S._ The following method of buying and selling the wine of this
province, may be useful to you.
To have good Burgundy, that is, wine _de la premiere tete_, as they term
it, you must buy it from 400 to 700 livres. There are wines still
dearer, up to 1000 or 1200 livres; but it is allowed, that beyond 700
livres, the quality is not in proportion to the price; and that it is in
great measure a matter of fancy.
The carriage of a queue of wine from Dijon to Dunkirk, or to any
frontier town near England, costs an hundred livres, something more than
four sols a bottle; but if sent in the bottle, the carriage will be just
double. The price of the bottles, hampers, package, &c. will again
increase the expence to six sols a bottle more; so that wine which at
first cost 600 livres, or 25 sols a bottle, will, when delivered at
Dunkirk, be worth 29 sols a bottle, if bought in cask; if in bottles, 39
sols.--Now add to this the freight, duties, &c. to London; and as many
pounds sterling as all these expences amount to upon a queue of wine,
just so many French sols must be charged to the price of every bottle.
The reduction of French sols to English sterling money is very plain,
and of course the price of the best burgundy delivered in London, easily
calculated.
If the wine be sent in casks, it is adviseable to choose rather a
stronger wine, because it will mellow, and form itself in the carriage.
It should be double casked, to prevent as much as possible, the frauds
of the carriers. This operation will cost six or eight livres per piece;
but the great and principal object is, whom to trust to buy the best;
and convey it safely. I doubt, it must not pass through the hands of
Mons. C----, if he deals in wine as he does in drapery, and bills of
exchange.
LETTER VII.
LYONS.
Upon our arrival at _Chalons_, I was much disappointed; as I intended to
have embarked on the _Soane_, and have slipped down here in the _coche
d'eau_, and thereby have saved my horse the fatigue of dragging us
hither: but I could only spare him that of drawing my heaviest baggage.
The _coche d'eau_ is too small to take horses and _cabriolets_ on board
at _Chalons_; but at _Lyons_, they will take horses, and coaches, or
houses, and churches, if they could be put on board, to descend the
Rhone, to _Pont St. Esprit_, or _Avignon_. So after we have taken a
fortnight's rest here, I intend rolling down with the rapid current,
which the united force of those two mighty rivers renders, as I am
assured, a short, easy, and delightful passage.
Nothing can be more beautiful than the country we passed through from
_Chalons_ hither. When we got within a few leagues of this great city,
we found every mountain, hill, and dale, so covered with _chateaux_,
country houses, farms, &c. that they appeared like towns, villages, and
hamlets. Nothing can be a stronger proof of the great wealth of the
citizens of _Lyons_, than that they can afford to build such houses,
many of which are more like palaces, than the country retreat of
_bourgeois_. The prospect from the highest part of the road, a league or
two from Lyons, is so extensive, so picturesque, and so enchantingly
beautiful, that, impatient as I was to enter into the town, I could not
refrain stopping at a little shabby wine-house, and drinking coffee
under their mulberry-trees, to enjoy the warm day, the cooling breeze,
and the noble prospects which every way surrounded us.
The town of _Lyons_, too, which stands nearly in the center of Europe,
has every advantage for trade, which men in trade can desire. The
_Soane_ runs through the centre of it, and is covered with barges and
boats, loaded with hay, wood, corn, and an infinite variety of goods
from all parts of the kingdom; while the _Rhone_, on the other side, is
still more serviceable; for it not only supplies the town with all the
above necessaries of life, but conveys its various manufactures down to
the ports of the _Mediterranean_ sea expeditiously, and at little
expence. The small boats, which ply upon the Soane as ours do upon the
Thames, are flat bottomed, and very meanly built; they have, however, a
tilt to shelter them from the heat, and to preserve the complexion, or
hide the _blushes_ of your female _Patronne_:--yes, my dear Sir,
Female!--for they are all conducted by females; many of whom are young,
handsome, and neatly dressed. I have, more than once, been disposed to
blush, when I saw a pretty woman sitting just opposite me, labouring in
an action which I thought would have been more becoming myself. I asked
one of these female _sculls_, how she got her bread in the winter? Oh,
Sir, said she giving me a very significant look, such a one as you can
better conceive, than I convey, _dans l'hiver J'ai un autre talent_. And
I assure you I was glad she did not exercise _both her talents_ at the
same time of the year; yet I could not refrain from giving her a double
fee, for a single fare, as I thought there was something due to her
_winter_ as well as summer abilities.
But I must not let my little _Bateliere's_ talents prevent me, while I
think of it, telling you, that I did visit, and stay some days at the
Roman town lately discovered in Champaigne, which I mentioned to you in
a former letter: it stood upon a mountain, now called the _Chatelet_,
the foot of which is watered by a good river, and its sides with _good
wine_. _Monsieur Grignon_, whose house stands very near it, and who has
there an iron manufacture, first discovered the remains of this ancient
town; his men, in digging for iron ore, found wrought gold, beside other
things, which convinced _Mons. Grignon_ (who is a man of genius) that it
was necessary to inform the King with what they had discovered; in
consequence of which, his Majesty ordered the foundations to be laid
open; and I had the satisfaction of seeing in _Mons. Grignon_'s cabinet
an infinite number of Roman utensils, such as weights, measures, kitchen
furniture, vases, busts, locks, swords, inscriptions, pottery ware,
statues, &c. which afforded me, and would you, a great deal of pleasure,
as well as information. _Mons. Grignon_ the elder, was gone to Paris; a
circumstance which gave me great concern to hear before I went to his
house, but which was soon removed by the politeness, and hospitable
manner I was received by his son: yet, my only recommendation to either,
was my being a stranger; and being a stranger is, in general, a good
recommendation to a Frenchman, for, upon all such occasions, they are
never shy, or backward in communicating what they know, or of gratifying
the curiosity of an inquisitive traveller; their houses, cabinets, and
gardens, are always open; and they seem rather to think they receive,
than grant a favour, to those who visit them. How many fine gardens,
valuable cabinets, and curiosities, have we in England, so shut up, that
the difficulty of access renders them as unentertaining to the public,
as they are to the sordid and selfish possessors! I am thoroughly
satisfied that the town I am speaking of was destroyed by fire, and not,
as has been imagined, by any convulsion of the earth, as I found, among
a hundred other strong proofs of it, an infinite number of pieces of
melted glass, lead, &c. But though I examined the cellars of eight
hundred Roman citizens, the selfish rogues had not left a single bottle
of wine.--I longed to taste the _old Falernian_ wine, of seventeen
hundred years.
I write from time to time to you; but not without often thinking it is a
great presumption in me to suppose I can either entertain or instruct
you; but I proceed, upon your commands, and the authority of Lord Bacon,
who says, he is surprised to find men make diaries in sea voyages, where
nothing is to be seen but sky and sea, and for the most part omit it in
land travels, where so much is to be observed; as if chance were better
to be registered than observation. When you are tired of my register,
remember, I can _take_ as well as _give a hint_.
LETTER VIII.
PORT ST. ESPRIT.
After a voyage of one whole, and one half day, without sail or oar, we
arrived here from Lyons. The weather was just such as we could wish and
such as did not drive us out of the seat of my _cabriolet_ into the
cabbin, which was full of priests, monks, friars, milleners, &c. a
motley crew! who were very noisy, and what they thought, I dare say,
very good company; the deck, indeed, afforded better and purer air;
three officers, and a priest; but it was not till late the first day
before they took any civil notice of us; and if a Frenchman shews any
backwardness of that sort, an Englishman, I think, had better _hold up_;
this rule I always religiously observe. When the night came on, we
landed in as much disorder as the troops were embarked at _St. Cas_,
and lodged in a miserable _auberge_. It was therefore no mortification
to be called forth for embarkation before day-light. The bad night's
lodging was, however, amply made up to us, by the beautiful and
picturesque objects and variety which every minute produced. For the
banks of this mighty river are not only charged on both sides with a
great number of towns, villages, castles, _chateaux_, and farm-houses;
but the ragged and broken mountains above, and fertile vales between and
beneath, altogether exhibit a mixture of delight and astonishment, which
cannot be described, unless I had Gainsborough's elegant pencil, instead
of my own clumsy pen. Upon comparing notes, we found that the officers,
(and no men understand the _etiquette_ of travelling better than they
do,) had not fared much better than we had; one of them therefore
proposed, that we should all sup together that night at _Pont
St.-Esprit_, where, he assured us, there was one of the best cooks in
France, and he would undertake to regulate the supper at a reasonable
price. This was the first time we had eat with other company, though it
is the general practice in the southern parts of France. Upon entering
the house, where this _Maitre Cuisinier_ and prime minister of the
kitchen presided, I began to conceive but an indifferent opinion of the
Major's judgment; the house, the kitchen, the cook, were, in appearance,
all against it; yet, in spite of all, I never sat down to so good a
supper; and should be sorry to sit often at table, where such a one was
set before me. I will not--nay, I cannot tell you what we had; but you
will be surprised to know what we paid,--what think you of three livres
each? when I assure you, such a supper, if it were to be procured in
London, could not be provided for a guinea a head! and we were only
seven who sat down to it.
I must not omit to tell you, that all the second day's voyage we heard
much talk of the danger there would be in passing the Bridge of _Pont
St. Esprit_; and that many horses and men landed some miles before we
arrived there, choosing rather to walk or ride in the hot sun, than swim
through _so much danger_. Yet the truth is, there was none; and, I
believe, seldom is any. The _Patron_ of the barge, indeed, made a great
noise, and affected to shew how much skill was necessary to guide it
through the main arch, for I think the bridge consists of thirty; yet
the current itself must carry every thing through that approaches it,
and he must have skill, indeed, who could avoid it. There was not in the
least degree any fall; but yet, it passed through with such violence,
that we run half a league in a minute; and very soon after landed at the
town of Pont. St. Esprit, which has nothing in it very remarkable, but
this long bridge, the good cook, and the first olive tree we had seen.
This is Lower _Languedoc_, you know, and the province in which ten
thousand pounds were lately distributed by the sagacious Chancellor of
England, among an hundred French peasants; and though I was _weak
enough_ to think it _my property_, I am not wicked enough to envy them
their good fortune. If the decision made one man wretched; it made the
hearts of many glad; and I should be pleased to drink a bottle of wine
with any of my fortunate cousins, and will if I can find them out; for
they are my cousins; and I would shake an honest cousin by the hand tho'
he were in wooden shoes, with more pleasure than I would the honest
Chancellor, who put them _so unexpectedly_ upon a better footing. I
think, by the _laws_ of England, no money is to be transported into
other kingdoms; by the JUSTICE of it, it may, and is;--if so, law and
justice are still at variance; which puts me in mind of what a great
man once said upon reading the confirmation of a decree in the House of
Lords, from an Irish appeal:--"It is (said he) so very absurd,
inconsistent, and intricate, that, in truth, I am afraid it is really
made according to law."
LETTER IX.
NISMES.
On our way here we eat an humble meal; which was, nevertheless, a most
grateful _repas_, for it was under the principal arch of the _Pont du
Gard_. It will be needless to say more to you of this noble monument of
antiquity, than that the modern addition to it has not only made it more
durable, but more useful: in its original state, it conveyed only horse
and man, over the River _Gordon_, (perhaps _Gardon_) and water, to the
city of _Nismes_. By the modern addition, it now conveys every thing
over it, but water; as well as an high idea of Roman magnificence; for
beside the immense expence of erecting a bridge of a triple range of
arches, over a river, and thereby uniting the upper arches to the
mountains on each side, the source from whence the water was conveyed,
is six leagues distant from _Nismes_. The bridge is twenty-four _toises_
high, and above an hundred and thirty-three in length, and was _my sole
property_ for near three hours; for during that time, I saw neither man
nor beast come near it; every thing was so still and quiet, except the
murmuring stream which runs gently under two or three of the arches,
that I could almost have persuaded myself, from the silence, and rude
scenes which every way presented themselves, that all the world were as
dead as the men who erected it. That side of the bridge where none of
the modern additions appear, is nobly fillagreed by the hand of time;
and the other side is equally pleasing, by being a well executed support
to a building which, without its aid, would in a few ages more have
fallen into ruins.
I was astonished to find so fine a building standing in so pleasant a
spot, and which offers so many invitations to make it the abode of some
hermit, quite destitute of such an inhabitant; but it did not afford
even a beggar, to tell the strange stories which the common people
relate; tho' it could not fail of being a very lucrative post, were it
only from the bounty of strangers, who visit it out of curiosity; but a
Frenchman, whether monk, or mumper, has no idea of a life of solitude:
yet I am sure, were it in England, there are many of our, _first-rate
beggars_, who would lay down a large sum for a money of _such a walk_.
If a moiety of sweeping the kennel from the Mews-gate to the Irish
coffee-house opposite to it, could fetch a good price, and I was a
witness once that it did, to an unfortunate beggar-woman, who was
obliged by sickness to part with half of it; what might not a beggar
expect, who had the _sweeping_ of the _Pont du Gard_; or a monk, who
erected a confessional box near it for the benefit of _himself_, and the
fouls of poor travellers?
After examining every part of the bridge, above and below, I could not
find the least traces of any ancient inscription, except three initial
letters, C, P, A; but I found cut in _demi relief_ very extraordinary
kind of _priapus_, or rather group of them; the country people, for it
is much effaced, imagine it to be dogs in pursuit of a hare; but if I
may be permitted to _imagine_ too perhaps, indeed, with no better
judgment, might not the kind of representations be emblematical of the
populousness, of the country? though more probably the wanton fancies of
the master mason, or his journeymen; for they are too diminutive pieces
of work to bear any proportion to the whole, and are therefore
blemishes, not ornaments, even allowing that in those ages such kind of
works were not considered in the light they would be in these days of
more delicacy and refinement.
LETTER X.
NISMES.
I have now been here some time, and have employed most of it, in
visiting daily the _Maison Carree_, the _Amphitheatre_, the Temple of
_Diana_, and other Roman remains, which this town abounds with above all
others in France, and which is all the town affords worthy of notice,
(for it is but a very indifferent one.) The greater part of the
inhabitants are Protestants, who meet publicly between two rocks, at a
little distance from the city, every Sunday, sometimes not less than
eighteen thousand, where their pastors, openly and audibly, perform
divine service, according to the rites of the reformed church: Such is
the difference between the mild government of _Louis_ the 16th, and that
which was practised in the reign of his great grandfather. But reason
and philosophy have made more rapid strides in France, within these few
years, than the arts and sciences. It is, however, a great and mighty
kingdom, blest with every convenience and comfort in life, as well as
many luxuries, beside good wine; and good wine, drank in moderation (and
_here_ nobody drinks it otherwise) is not only an excellent cordial to
the nerves, but I am persuaded it contributes to long life, and good
health. Here, where wine and _eau de vie_ is so plenty, and so cheap
too, you seldom meet a drunken peasant, and never see a gentleman
(_except he be a stranger_) in that shameful situation.
Perhaps there is not, on any part of the Continent, a city or town which
has been so frequently sacked by foreign invaders, nor so deeply stained
with human blood, by civil and religious wars, as this: every street and
ancient building within its walls still exhibit many strong marks of the
excesses committed by the hands of domestic as well as foreign
barbarians, except only the Temple now called, and so called from its
form, the _Maison Carree_, which has stood near eighteen hundred years,
without receiving any other injuries than the injuries of time; and time
has given it rather the face of age, than that of ruins, for it still
stands firm and upright; and though not quite perfect in every part, yet
it preserves all its due proportions, and enough of its original and
lesser beauties, to astonish and delight every beholder, and that too in
a very particular manner. It is said, and I have felt the truth of it in
part, that there does not exist, at this day, any building, ancient or
modern, which conveys so secret a pleasure, not only to the
_connoisseur_, but to the clown also, whenever, or how often soever they
approach it. The proportions and beauties of the whole building are so
intimately united, that they may be compared to good breeding in men; it
is what every body perceives, and is captivated with, but what few can
define. That it has an irresistible beauty which delights men of sense,
and which _charms_ the eyes of the vulgar, I think must be admitted; for
no other possible reason can be assigned why this building alone,
standing in the very centre of a city, wherein every excess which
religious fury could inspire, or barbarous manners could suggest, has
stood so many ages the only uninsulted monument of antiquity, either
within or without the walls; especially, as a very few men might, with
very little labour, soon tumble it into a heap of rubbish.
The _Amphitheatre_ has a thousand marks of violences committed upon it,
by fire, sledges, battering rams, &c. which its great solidity and
strength alone resisted.
The _Temple of Diana_ is so nearly destroyed, that, in an age or two
more no vestige of it will remain; but the _Maison Carree_ is still so
perfect and beautiful, that when _Cardinal Alberoni_ first saw it, he
said it wanted only _une boete d'or pour le defendre des injures de
l'air_; and it certainly has received no other, than such as rain, and
wind, and heat, and cold, have made upon it; and those are rather marks
of dignity, than deformity. What reason else, then, can be assigned for
its preservation to this day; but that the savage and the saint have
been equally awed by its superlative beauty.
Having said thus much of the perfections of this edifice, I must however
confess, it is not, nor ever was, perfect, for it has some original
blemishes, but such as escape the observation of most men, who have not
time to examine the parts separately, and with a critical eye. There
are, for example, thirty modillions on the cornice, on one side and
thirty-two on the other; there are sixty-two on the west side, and only
fifty-four on the east; with some other little faults which its aged
beauty justifies my omitting; for they are such perhaps as, if removed,
would not add any thing to the general proportions of the whole. No-body
objected to the moles on Lady Coventry's face; those specks were too
trifling, where the _tout ensemble_ was so perfect.
_Cardinal Richlieu_, I am assured, had several consultations with
builders of eminence, and architects of genius, to consider whether it
was practicable to remove all the parts of this edifice, and re-erect it
at _Versailles_: and, I have no doubt, but Lewis the 14th might have
raised this monument to his fame there, for half the money he expended
in murdering and driving out of that province sixty thousand of his
faithful and ingenious subjects, merely on the score of Religion; an
act, which is now equally abhorred by Catholics, as well as Protestants.
But, Lord Chesterfield justly observes, that there is no brute so
fierce, no criminal so guilty, as the creature called a Sovereign,
whether King, Sultan, or Sophy; who thinks himself, either by divine or
human right, vested with absolute power of destroying his
fellow-creatures.
_Louis_ the XIth of France caused the Duke of _Nemours_, a descendant
of King _Clovis_, to be executed at Paris, and placed his children
under the scaffold, that the blood of their father might run upon their
heads; in which bloody condition they were returned to the Bastile, and
there shut up in iron cages: and a King of SIAM, having lost his
daughter, and fancying she was poisoned, put most of his court, young
and old, to death, by the most exquisite torture; by this horrid act of
cruelty, near two thousand of the principal courtiers suffered the most
dreadful deaths; the great Mandarins, their wives, and children, being
all scorched with fire, and mangled with knives, before they were
admitted to his last favour,--that of being thrown to the elephants.
But to have done with sad subjects.--It was not till the year 1758 that
it was certainly known at what time, or for what purpose, the _Maison
Carree_ was erected; but fortunately, the same town which produced the
building so many ages ago, produced in the latter end of the last, a
Gentleman, of whom it may be justly said, he left no stone unturned to
come at the truth. This is _Mons. Seguier_, whose long life has been
employed in collecting a cabinet of Roman antiquities, and natural
curiosities, and whose penetrating genius alone could have discovered,
by the means he did, an inscription, of which not a single letter has
been seen for many ages; but this _habile observateur_, perceiving a
great number of irregular holes upon the frontal and frize of this
edifice, concluded that they were the cramp-holes which had formerly
held an inscription, and which, according to the practice of the
Romans, were often composed of single letters of bronze. _Mons. Seguier_
therefore erected scaffolding, and took off on paper the distances and
situation of the several holes, and after nicely examining the
disposition of them, and being assisted by a few faint traces of some of
the letters, which had been impressed on the stones, brought forth, to
the full satisfaction of every body, the original inscription, which
was laid before _l'Academie des Inscriptions & de Belles Lettres de
Paris_ of which he is a member, and from whom he received their public
thanks; having unanimously agreed that there was not a doubt remained
but that he had produced the true reading: which is as follows:
+-------------------------------------------------+
| TAUROBOLIO MATRIS DEUM MAGNÆ IDÆÆ |
| QUOD FACTUM EST EX IMPERIO |
| MATRIS IDÆÆ DEUM |
| PRO SALUTE IMPERATORIS CÆSARIS |
| TITI ÆLII |
| ADRIANI ANTONINI AUGUSTI PII PATRIS PATRIÆ |
| LIBERORUMQUE EJUS |
| ET STATUS COLONIÆ LUGDUNENSIS |
| LUCIUS ÆMILIUS CARPUS SEXTUMVIS |
| AUGUSTALIS ITEM DENDROPHORUS |
| |
| VIRES EXCEPIT ET A VATICANO |
| TRANSTULIT ARAMET BUCRANIUM |
| SUO IMPENDIO CONSECRAVIT |
| SACERDOTE |
| QUINTO SAMMIO SECUNDO AB QUINDECEMVIRIS |
| OCCABO ET CORONA EXORNATO |
| CUI SANCTISSIMUS ORDO LUGDUNENSIS |
| PERPETUITATEM SACERDOTIS DECREVIT |
| APPIO ANNIA ATILIO BRADUA TITO |
| CLODIO VIBIO VARO CONSULIBUS |
| LOCUS DATUS DECRETO DECURIONUM. |
+-------------------------------------------------+
The _Maison Carree_ is not however, quite square, being something more
in length than breadth; it is eighty-two feet long and thirty-seven and
a half high, exclusive of the square socle on which it stands, and which
is, at this time, six feet above the surface; it is divided into two
parts, one enclosed, the other open; the facade is adorned with six
fluted pillars of the Corinthian order, and the cornice and front are
decorated with all the beauties of architecture. The frize is quite
plain, and without any of those bas-reliefs or ornaments which are on
the sides, where the foliage of the olive leaf is exquisitely finished.
On each side over the door, which opens into the enclosed part, two
large stones, like the but-ends of joists, project about three feet, and
these stones are pierced through with two large mortices, six inches
long, and three wide; they are a striking blemish, and must therefore
have been fixed, for some very necessary purpose--for what, I will not
risque my opinion; it is enough to have mentioned them to you. As to the
inside, little need be said; but, that, being now consecrated to the
service of GOD, and the use of the order of _Augustines_, it is filled
up with altars, _ex votos_, statues, &c. but such as we may reasonably
conclude, have not, exclusive of a religious consideration, all those
beauties which were once placed within a Temple, the outward structure
of which was so highly finished.
Truth and concern compel me to conclude this account of the _Maison
Carree_, in lamenting, that the inhabitants of Nismes (who are in
general a very respectable body of people) suffer this noble edifice to
be defiled by every species of filth that poverty and neglect can
occasion. The approach to it is through an old ragged kind of barn door:
it is surrounded with mean houses, and disgraced on every side with
filth, and the _offerings_ of the nearest inhabitants. I know not any
part of London but what would be a better situation for it, than where
it now stands: I will not except even Rag-fair, nor Hockly in the Hole.
LETTER XI.
NISMES.
The state in which that once-superb edifice, the Temple of Diana, now
appears; with concern, I perceived that there remains only enough to
give the spectator an idea of its former beauty; for though the roof has
been broken down, and every part of it so wantonly abused yet enough
remains, within, and without, to bear testimony that it was built, not
only by the greatest architect, but enriched also by the hands of other
great artists: indeed, the mason's work alone is, at this day,
wonderful; for the stones with which it is built, and which are very
large, are so truly worked, and artfully laid, without either cement or
mortar, that many of the joints are scarce visible; nor is it possible
to put the point of a penknife between those which are most open. This
Temple too is, like the _Maison Carree_, shut up by an old barn-door: a
man, however, attends to open it; where, upon entering, you will find a
striking picture of the folly of all human grandeur; for the area is
covered with broken statues, busts, urns, vases, cornices, frizes,
inscriptions, and various fragments of exquisite workmanship, lying in
the utmost disorder, one upon another, like the stript dead in a field
of battle. Here, the ghost of Shakespeare appeared before my eyes,
holding in his hand a label, on which was engraven those words you have
so often read in his works, and now see upon his monument.
I have often wondered, that some man of taste and fortune in England,
where so much attention is paid to gardening, never converted one spot
to an _Il Penseroso_, and another to _L'Allegro_. If a thing of that
kind was to be done, what would not a man of such a turn give for an
_Il Penseroso_, as this Temple now is?--where sweet melancholy sits,
with a look
"That's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chain'd up, without a sound."
The modern fountain of _Nismes_ or rather the Roman fountain recovered,
and re-built, falls just before this Temple; and the noble and extensive
walks, which surround this pure and plentiful stream, are indeed very
magnificent: what then must it have been in the days of the Romans, when
the Temple, the fountain, the statues, vases, &c. stood perfect, and in
their proper order? Though this building has been called the Temple of
Diana, by a tradition immemorial, yet it may be much doubted, whether it
was so. The Temples erected, you know, to the daughter of Jupiter, were
all of the Ionic order, and this is a mixture of the Corinthian, and
Composit. Is it not, therefore, more probable, from the number of niches
in it to contain statues, that it was, in fact, a Pantheon? Directly
opposite to the entrance door, are three great tabernacles; on that of
the middle stood the principal altar; and on the side walls were twelve
niches, six on the right-hand are still perfect. The building is eleven
_toises_ five feet long, and six _toises_ wide, and was thrown into its
present ruinous state during the civil wars of Henry the Third; and yet,
in spite of the modern statues, and gaudy ornaments, which the
inhabitants have bestrewed to decorate their matchless fountain, the
Temple of Diana is still the greatest ornament it has to boast of.
LETTER XII.
MONTPELLIER.
Never was a traveller more disappointed than I was upon entering into
this renowned city; a city, the name of which my ears have been familiar
to, ever since I first heard of disease or medicine. I expected to find
it filled with palaces; and to perceive the superiority of the soft air
it is so celebrated for, above all other places; instead of which, I was
accompanied for many miles before I entered it with thousands of
Moschettos, which, in spite of all the hostilities we committed upon
them, made our faces, hands and legs, as bad in appearance as persons
just recovering from a plentiful crop of the small-pox, and infinitely
more miserable. Bad as these flies are in the West-Indies, I suffered
more in a few days from them at, and near Montpellier, than I did for
some years in Jamaica.
However fine and salubrious the air of this town might have been
formerly, it is far otherwise now; and it may be naturally accounted
for; the sea has retired from the coast, and has left three leagues of
marshy ground between it and the town, where the hot sun, and stagnated
waters, breed not only flies, but distempers also; beside this, there
is, and ever was, something very peculiar in the air of the town itself:
it is the only town in France where verdigris is made in any great
quantity; and this, I am inclined to think, is not a very favourable
circumstance; where the air is so disposed to cankerise, and corrode
copper, it cannot be so pure, as where none can be produced; but here,
every cave and wine-cellar is filled with sheets of copper, from which
such quantities of verdigris are daily collected, that it is one of the
principal branches of their trade. The streets are very narrow, and
very dirty; and though there are many good houses, a fine theatre, and a
great number of public edifices beside churches, it makes altogether but
an indifferent figure.
Without the walls of the town, indeed, there stands a noble equestrian
statue of Louis the XIVth, surrounded with spacious walks, and adorned
with a beautiful fountain. Their walks command a view of the
Mediterranean Sea in front, and the Alps and Pyrenees on the right and
left. The water too is conducted to a most beautiful _Temple d' Eau_
over a triple range of arches, in the manner of the _Pont du Gard_, from
a very considerable distance. The modern arches over which it runs, are
indeed, a great and mighty piece of work; for they are so very large,
extended so far, and are so numerous, that I could find no person to
inform me of their exact number; however, I speak within the bounds of
truth, I hope, when I say there are many hundred; and that it is a work
which the Romans might have been proud of, and must therefore convey an
high idea of the riches and mightiness of a kingdom, wherein one
province alone could bear, and be willing too to bear, so great an
expence, and raise so useful, as well as beautiful a monument; for
beside the immense expence of this triple range of arches, the source
from whence the water is conveyed is, I think, three leagues distant
from the town, by which means every quarter of it is plentifully
supplied with fountains which always run, and which in hot climates are
equally pleasing, refreshing, and useful.
The town abounds with apothecaries' shops, and I met a great many
physical faces; so that if the air is not good, I conclude the physic
is, and therefore laid out two _sols_ for a pennyworth of ointment of
_marsh-mallows_ which alleviated a little the extreme misery we all were
in, during our stay at this celebrated city. If, however, it still has
a reputation for the cure of a _particular disorder_, perhaps that may
arise from the impurity of the air,--and that the air which is so prone
to engender verdigris, may wage war with other subtile poisons; yet, as
I found some of my countrymen there, who had taken a longer trial of the
air, and more of the physic, than I had occasion for, who neither
admired one, nor found benefit from the other, I will not recommend
_Montpellier_ as having any peculiar excellencies within its walls, but
good wine, and some good actors. It is a dear town, even to the natives,
and a very imposing one to strangers; and therefore I shall soon leave
it, and proceed southward.
Perhaps you will expect me to say something of the _Sweets_ which this
town is so famed for: there are indeed some sweet shops of that sort;
and they are _bien places_. At these shops they have ladies' silk
pockets, sachels for their shifts, letter cases, and a multitude of
things of that kind, quilted and _larded_ with something, which does
indeed give them a most pleasing and lasting perfume. At these shops
too, beside excellent lavender water, essence of bergamot, &c. they sell
_eau de jasmin de pourri, de cedre, de girofle, sans pareille, de mille
fleurs, de zephir, de oiellet, de sultan_ and a hundred other sorts; but
the _essence of bergamot_ is above all, as a single drop is sufficient
to perfume a handkerchief; and so it ought to be, for it is very dear.
LETTER XIII.
CETTE.
I was very impatient till I had drove my horse from the British to the
Mediterranean coast, and looked upon a sea from _that land_ which I had
often, with longing eyes, viewed _from the sea_, in the year 1745, when
I was on board the Russel, with Admiral Medley. I have now compleatly
crossed this mighty kingdom and great continent, and it was for that
reason I visited _Cette_. This pretty little sea-port, though it is out
of my way to _Barcelona_, yet it proves to be in _the way_ for my poor
horse; as I found here a Spanish bark, upon which I put part of my
baggage. I was obliged to have it, however, opened and examined at the
Custom-house; and as the officer found in it a bass viol, two guittars,
a fiddle, and some other musical instruments, he very naturally
concluded I was a musician, and very kindly intimated to me his
apprehensions, that I should meet with but very little _encouragement in
Spain_: as I had not any better reason to assign for going there, but to
fiddle, I did not undeceive this good-natured man till the next morning,
when I owned, I was not sufficiently _cunning_ in the art of music to
get my bread by it; and that I had unfortunately been bred to a worse
profession, that of arms; and if I got time enough to _Barcelona_ to
enter a volunteer in the _Walloon_ guards, and go to _Algiers_, perhaps
I might get from his Catholic Majesty, by my services, more than I could
acquire from his Britannic--something to live upon in my old age: but I
had no better encouragement from this Frenchman as an adventurer in
arms, than in music; he assured me, that Spain was a _vilain pays_, and
that France was the only country in the world for a _voyageur_. But as I
found that France was the only country he had _voyaged_ in, and then
never above twenty leagues from that spot, I thanked him for his advice,
and determined to proceed; for though it is fifteen miles from
_Montpellier_, we are not got out of the latitude of the _Moschettos_.
On the road here, we met an infinite number of carts and horses, loaded
with ripe grapes; the gatherers generally held some large bunches (for
they were the large red grape) in their hands, to present to travellers;
and we had some from people, who would not even stay to receive a
trifling acknowledgment for their generosity and politeness.
Nothing could be more beautiful than the prospects which every way
surrounded us, when we came within three or four miles of this town;
both sides of the road were covered with thyme and lavender shrubs,
which perfumed the air; the sea breeze, and the hot sun, made both
agreeable; and the day was so clear and fine, that the snow upon the
_Alps_ made them appear as if they were only ten leagues from us; and I
could have been persuaded that we were within a few hours drive of the
_Pyrenees_; yet the nearest of them was at least a hundred miles
distant.
The great Canal of _Languedoc_ has a communication with this town, where
covered boats, neatly fitted up for passengers, are continually passing
up and down that wonderful and artificial navigation. It is a convenient
port to ship wine at; but the people have the reputation of playing
tricks with it, before and after it is put on board; and this opinion is
a great baulk to the trade it is so happily situated to carry on, and of
great benefit to the free port of _Nice_.
LETTER XIV.
PERPIGNAN.
DEAR SIR,
Before I leave this kingdom, and enter into that of Spain, let me
trouble you with a letter on a subject which, though no ways
interesting to yourself, may be very much so _to a young Gentleman of
your acquaintance_ at Oxford, for whose happiness I, as well as you, am
a little anxious. It is to apprize you, and to warn him, when he
travels, to avoid the _gins and man-traps_ fixed all over this country;
traps, which a thorough knowledge of Latin and Greek, combined even
with father and mother's wit, will not be sufficient to preserve him
from, unless he is first shewn the manner in which they are set. These
traps are not made to catch the legs, but to ruin the fortunes and
break the hearts of those who unfortunately step into them. Their baits
are artful, designing, wicked men, and profligate, abandoned, and
prostitute women. Paris abounds with them, as well as Lyons, and all
the great towns between London and Rome; and are principally set to
catch the young Englishman of fortune from the age of eighteen to five
and twenty; and what is worse, an honest, sensible, generous young man,
is always in most danger of setting his foot into them. You suspect
already, that these traps are made only of paper, and ivory, and that
cards and dice are the destructive engines I mean. Do you know that
there are a set of men and women, in _Paris_ and _Lyons_, who live
elegantly by lying in wait and by catching every _bird of
passage_?--but particularly the English _gold-finch_. I have seen and
heard of such wicked artifices of these people, and the fatal
consequences to the unfortunate young men they have ensnared, that I
really think I could never enjoy a single hour of contentment, if I
had a large fortune, while a son of mine was making what is called the
tour of Europe. The minute one of these young men arrive, either at
_Paris_ or _Lyons_, some _laquais de place_, who is paid for it, gives
the earliest notice to one of the confederacy, and he is instantly
way-laid by a French _Marquis_, or an English _Chevalier d'Industrie_,
who, with a most insinuating address, makes him believe, he is no
sooner arrived at _Paris_ than he has found a sincere friend. The
_Chevalier_ shews him what is most worthy of notice in _Paris_, attends
him to _Versailles_ and _Marly_, cautions him against being acquainted
with the honest part of the French nation, and introduces him to the
knaves only of his own and this country; carries him to see French
Ladies of the _first distinction_, (and such who certainly _live in
that style_) and makes the young man giddy with joy. But alas! it is
but a short-lived one!--he is invited; to sup with the _Countess_; and
is entertained not only voluptuously, but they play after supper, and
he wins too. What can be more delightful to a young man, in a strange
country, than to be flattered by the French, courted by the English,
entertained by _the Countess_, and cheered with success?--Nay, he
flatters himself, from the particular _attention_ the _Countess_ shews
him, above all other men admitted to her toilet, that she has even some
_tendre_ for his person:--just at this _critical moment_, a _Toyman
arrives_, to shew _Madame la Comtesse_ a new fashioned trinket; she
likes it, but has not money enough in her pocket to pay for it:--here
is a fine opportunity to make Madame la Comtesse a present;--and why
should not he?--the price is not above four or five guineas more than
his last night's winnings;--he offers it; and, with _great difficulty_
and much persuasion, she accepts it; but is quite _ashamed_ to think of
the trouble he has given himself:--but, says she, you Englishmen are so
charming,--so generous,--and so--so--and looks so sweet upon him, that
while her tongue faulters, _egad_ he ventures to cover her confusion by
a kiss;--when, instead of giving him the two broad sides of her cheek,
she is so _off her guard_, and so overcome, as to present him
_unawares_, with a pretty handsome dash of red pomatum from her lovely
pouting lips,--and insists upon it that he sups with her, _tete a
tete_, that very evening,--when all this happiness is compleated. In a
few nights after, he is invited to meet the _Countess_, and to sup with
_Monsieur le Marquis_, or _Monsieur le Chevalier Anglais_; he is
feasted with high meat, and inflamed with delicious wines;--they play
after supper, and he is stript of all his money, and gives--drafts upon
his Banker for all his credit. He visits the Countess the next day; she
receives him with a civil coolness,--is very sorry, she says,--and
wished much last night for a favourable opportunity to give him a hint,
not to play after he had lost the first thousand, as she perceived luck
ran hard against him:--she is extremely mortified;--but; as a friend,
advises him to go to _Lyons_, or some provincial town, where he may
study the language with more success, than in the hurry and noise of so
great a city as _Paris_, and apply for further credit. His _new
friends_ visit him no more; and he determines to take the Countess's
advice, and go on to _Lyons_, as he has heard the South of France is
much cheaper, and there he may see what he can do, by leaving Paris,
and an application to his friends in England. But at _Lyons_ too, some
artful knave, of one nation or the other, accosts him, who has had
notice of his _Paris_ misfortunes;--he pities him;--and, rather than
see a countryman, or a gentleman of fashion and character in distress,
he would lend him fifty or a hundred pounds. When this is done, every
art is used to debauch his principles; he is initiated into a gang of
genteel sharpers, and bullied, by the fear of a gaol, to connive at, or
to become a party in their iniquitous society. His good name gives a
sanction for a while to their suspected reputations; and, by means of
an hundred pounds so lent to this honest young man, some thousands are
won from the _birds of passage_, who are continually passing thro' that
city to the more southern parts of _France_, or to _Italy_, _Geneva_,
or _Turin_.
This is not an imaginary picture; it is a picture I have seen, nay, I
have seen the traps set, and the game caught; nor were those who set the
snares quite sure that they might not put a stop to my peregrination,
for they _risqued a supper at me_, and let me win a few guineas at the
little play which began before they sat down to table. Indeed, my dear
Sir, were I to give you the particulars of some of those unhappy young
men, who have been ruined in fortune and constitution too, at _Paris_
and _Lyons_, you would be struck with pity on one side, and horror and
detestation on the other; nor would ever risque such a _finished part_
of your son's education. Tell my Oxonian friend, from me, when he
travels, never to let either Lords or Ladies, even of his own country,
nor _Marquises_, _Counts_, or _Chevaliers_, of this, ever draw him into
play; but to remember that shrewd hint of Lord Chesterfield's to his
son;--"When you play with men (says his Lordship) know with _whom_ you
play; when with women, _for what_ you play."--But let me add, that the
only SURE WAY, is never to play at all.
At one of these towns I found a man, whose family I respected, and for
whom I had a personal regard; he loaded me with civilities, nay, made me
presents, before I had the most distant suspicions _how_ he became in a
situation to enable him so to do. He made every profession of love and
regard to me; and I verily believed him sincere; because I knew he had
been obliged by a part of my family; but when I found a coach, a
country-house, a good table, a wife, and servants, were all supported by
the _chance_ of a gaming-table, I withdrew myself from all connections
with him; for, I fear, he who lives to play, may _play_ to _live_.
Upon the whole, I think it is next to an impossibility for a young man
of fortune to pass a year or two in _Paris_, the southern parts of
France, Italy, &c. without running a great risque of being beggared by
sharpers, or seduced by artful women; unless he has with him a tutor,
who is made wise by years, and a frequent acquaintance with the customs
and manners of the country: an honest, learned Clergyman tutor, is of
less use to a young man in that situation, than a trusty _Valet de
Chambre_. A travelling tutor must know men; and, what is more difficult
to know, he must know women also, before he is qualified to guard
against the innumerable snares that are always making to entangle
strangers of fortune.
It is certainly true, that the nearer we approach to the sun, the more
we become familiar with vices of every kind. In the _South of France_,
and _Italy_, sins of the blackest dye, and many of the most unnatural
kind, are not only committed with impunity, but boasted of with
audacity; and, as one proof of the corruption of the people, of a
thousand I could tell you, I must tell you, that seeing at _Lyons_ a
shop in which a great variety of pictures were hung for sale, I walked
in, and after examining them, and asking a few questions; but none that
had the least tendency to want of decorum, the master of the shop turned
to his wife, (a very pretty woman, and dressed even to a _plumed_
head)--shew _Monsieur_ the little miniature, said he; she then opened a
drawer and took out a book, (I think it was her mass-book) and brought
me a picture, so indecent, that I defy the most debauched imagination
to conceive any thing more so; yet she gave it me with a seeming decent
face, and only observed that it was _bien fait_. After examining it with
more attention than I should, had I received it from the hands of her
husband, I returned it to her prayer-book, made my bow, and was
retiring; but the husband called to me, and said, he had a magazine hard
by, where there was a very large collection of pictures of great value,
and that his wife would attend me. My curiosity was heightened in more
respects than _one_: I therefore accepted the offer, and was conducted
up two pair of stairs in a house not far off, where I found a long suite
of rooms, in which were a large number of pictures, and some, I believe,
of great value. But I was a little surprised on entering into the
furthermost apartment, as that had in it an elegant _chintz_ bed, the
curtains of which were festooned, and the foliages held up by the
paintings of two naked women, as large as life, and as indecent as
nakedness could be painted; they were painted, and well painted too, on
boards, and cut out in human shape; that at first I did not know whether
I saw the shadow or the substance; however, as this room was covered
with pictures, I began to examine them also, with the fair attendant at
my elbow; but in the whole collection I do not remember there was one
picture which would not have brought a blush in the face of an English
Lady, even of the most easy virtue. Yet, all this while, when I asked
the price of the several parts and pieces, she answered me with a
gravity of countenance, as if she attended me to sell her goods like
other shopkeepers, and in the way of business; however, before I left
the room, I could not, I thought, do less than ask her--her own price.
She told me, she was worth nothing; and immediately invited me to take a
peep through a convex glass at a picture which was laid under, on the
table, for that purpose:--it was a picture of so wicked a tendency, that
the painter ought to have been put upon a pillory, and the exhibitor in
the stocks. The Lady observed to me again, that it was well painted;
but, on the contrary, the only merit it had, was, being quite otherwise,
I therefore told her, that the subject and idea only was good; the
execution bad.
Just at this time, several French Gentlemen came in to look at the
pictures, and my surprise became infinitely greater than ever; they
talked with her about the several pieces, without betraying the least
degree of surprise at the subjects, or the woman who shewed them; nor
did they seem to think it was a matter of any to me; and I verily
believe the woman was so totally a stranger to sentiment or decency,
that she considered herself employed in the ordinary way of shopkeepers,
that of shewing and selling her goods: as her shop was almost opposite
to the General Post-office, where I went every day for my letters, I
frequently saw women of fashion at this shop; whether they visited the
magazine, or not, I cannot say, but I think there is no doubt but they
might borrow the _mass-book_ I mentioned above.
I shall leave you to make your own comments upon this subject; and then
I am sure you will tremble for the fatal consequences which your son, or
any young man, may, nay must be led into, in a country where Vice is
painted with all her bewitching colours, in the fore-ground of the
picture; and where Virtue, if there be any, is thrown so far behind in
the back shade, that it is ten to one but it escapes the notice of a
youthful examiner.
I cannot help adding another instance of the profligacy of this town.
Lord P---- being invited by a French Gentleman to spend a day at his
_Chateau_, in this country, took occasion to tell his Lordship, that in
order to render the day as agreeable as possible to his company, he had
provided some young people of _both sexes_ to attend, and desired to
know his Lordship's _gout_. The young Nobleman concealed his surprise,
and told his _generous_ host, that he was not fashionable enough to walk
out of the paths of nature. The same question was then put to the other
company, in the order of their rank; and the last, an _humble
Frenchman_, replied, it was to him _egal l'un, et l'autre_, just as it
proved most convenient. This is not a traveller's story; it is a fact;
and I dare say the Nobleman, who was of the party, will give it the
sanction of his name, though I cannot with any degree of propriety.
LETTER IV.
JONQUIRE.
I have now crossed the _Pyrenees_, and write this from the first village
in Spain. These mountains are of such an enormous height, as well as
extent, that they seem as if they were formed even by nature to divide
nations. Nor is there any other pass by land into this kingdom but over
them; for they extend upwards of thirty leagues from the _Mediterranean_
Sea, near _Perpignan_ in _Rousillon_ to the city of _Pompelina_ in
_Navarre_; I should have said, extend _into_ the _Mediterranean_ Sea,
for there the extremity projects its lofty head, like a noble fortress
of nature, into the ocean, far beyond the low lands on either side.
Indeed the extensive plains on both side these lofty mountains (so
unusual in the Southern parts of Europe) would almost make one suspect,
that nature herself had been exhausted in raising such an immense pile,
which, as if it were the back-bone of an huge animal, was made to hold,
and bind together, all the parts of the western world. There are, I
think, nine passes over these hills into _Spain_, two or three of which
are very commodious, and wonderfully _picturesque_: others are dreadful,
and often dangerous; the two best are at the extremities; that which I
have just passed, and the other near _Bayonne_; the former is not only
very safe, except just after very heavy and long-continued rains, but in
the highest degree pleasing, astonishing, and wonderfully romantic, as
well as beautiful.
At _Boulon_, the last village in France, twelve long leagues from
_Perpignan_, and seemingly under the foot of the _Pyrenees_, we crossed
a river, for the first time, which must be forded three or four times
more, before you begin to ascend the hills; but if the river can be
safely crossed at _Boulon_, there can be no difficulty afterwards, as
there alone the stream is most rapid, and the channel deepest. At this
town there are always a set of fellows ready to offer their service, who
ford the river, and support the carriage; nor is it an easy matter to
prevent them, when no such assistance is necessary; and I was obliged to
handle my pistols, to make them _unhandle_ my wheels; as it is more than
probable they would have overset us in shallow water, to gain an
opportunity of shewing their _politeness_ in picking us up again. The
stream, indeed, was very rapid; and I was rather provoked by the
rudeness of the people, to pass through it without assistance, than
convinced there needed none.
Having crossed the river four or five times more, and passed between
rocks, and broken land, through a very uncultivated and romantic vale,
we began to ascend the _Pyrenees_ upon a noble road, indeed! hewn upon
the sides of those adamantine hills, of a considerable width, and an
easy ascent, quite up to the high _Fortress of Bellegarde_, which stands
upon the pinnacle of the highest hill, and which commands this renowned
pass.
You will easier conceive than I can describe the many rude and various
scenes which mountains so high, so rocky, so steep, so divided, and, I
may add too, so fertile, exhibit to the traveler's eyes. The constant
water-falls from the melted snow above, the gullies and breaches made by
water-torrents during great rains, the rivulets in the vale below, the
verdure on their banks, the herds of goats, the humble, but picturesque
habitations of the goat-herds, the hot sun shining upon the _snow-capt_
hills above, and the steep precipices below, all crowd together so
strongly upon the imagination, that they intoxicate the passenger with
delight.
The French nation in no instance shew their greatness more than in the
durable and noble manner they build and make their high-roads; here,
the expence was not only cutting the hard mountain, and raising a fine
road on their sides, but building arches of an immense height from
mountain to mountain, and over breaks and water-falls, with great
solidity, and excellent workmanship.
The invalide guard at this fortress take upon themselves, very
improperly, and I am sure very unwarrantably, to examine strangers who
pass, with an impertinent curiosity; for they must admit all who come
with a proper _passa-porte_ into _Spain_, and durst not admit any
without it. On my arrival at the Guard-house, they seized my horse's
head, and called for my _passa-porte_, in terms very unlike the usual
politeness of French guards; and while my pass was carried into a little
office, hard by, to be registered, those who remained on the side of my
chaise took occasion to ask me of what country I was: I desired to
refer them to my _passa-porte_, (where I knew no information of that
kind was given,) as it was a question I could not very well answer; but
upon being further urged, I at length told them, I was an
_Hottentot_.--"_Otentot_--_Otentot_--pray what king governs that
country?" said one of them. No king governs the _Hottentots_ replied I.
"What then, is your country without a king?" said another, with
astonishment! No; not absolutely so, neither; for the _Hottentots_ have
a king; but he always keeps a number of ambitious and crafty men about
his Court, who govern him; and those men, who are generally knaves, feed
the people with guts, and entrails of beasts, give the king now and then
a little bit of the main body, and divide the rest among themselves,
their friends, their favourites, and sycophants. But I soon found, these
were questions leading to a more important one; and that was, what
_countryman_ my horse was;--for, suspecting him to be an _Englishman_,
they would perhaps, if I had been weak enough to have owned it, have
made me pay a considerable duty for his admission into _Spain_; though I
believe it cannot legally be done or levied upon any horse, French, or
English, (to use an act of parliament phrase) but such "as are not
actually in harness, nor drawing in a carriage."
The Spaniards too have done their duty, as to the descent of the
_Pyrenees_ from _Bellegarde_, but no further; from thence to this
village, is about the same distance that _Boulon_ is from the foot of
the mountains on the other side; but though this road is quite destitute
of art it is adorned highly by nature.
But, before I left _Bellegarde_, I should have told you, that near that
Fortress the arms of France and Spain, cut on stone pillars, are placed
_vis-a-vis_ on each side of the road; a spot where some times an affair
of _honour_ is decided by two men, who engage in personal combat; each
standing in a different kingdom; and where, if one falls, the other need
not run; for, by the Family Compact, it is agreed, not to give up
deserters or murderers.
The road is not less romantic on the Spanish, than on the French side of
the _Pyrenees_; the face of the country is more beautiful, and the faces
of all things, animate and inanimate, are quite different; and one would
be apt to think, that instead of having passed a few hills, one had
passed over a large ocean: the hogs, for instance, which are all white
on the French side, are all black on this.
We arrived here upon a Sunday, when the inhabitants had on their best
apparel: but instead of high head-dresses, false curls, plumes of
feathers, and a quantity of powder, the women had their black hair
combed tight from their foreheads and temples, and tied behind, in
either red, blue, or black nets, something like the caul of a peruke,
from which hang large tassels down to the middle of their back; the
men's hair was done up in nets in the same manner, but not so gaudy.
Before we arrived here, I overtook a girl with a load of fresh hay upon
her head, whom (_at the request of my horse_) I entreated to spare me a
little, but, till she had called back her brother, who had another load
of the same kind, would not treat with me; they soon agreed, however,
that my request was reasonable; and so was their demand; and there,
under the shade of a noble grove of large cork-trees, we and our horse
eat a most luxurious meal: appetite was the sauce; and the wild scenes,
and stupendous rocks, which every way surrounded our _salle a manger_,
were our dessert.
And that you may not be alarmed about this mighty matter, (as it is by
many thought) of parting from _France to Spain_, by the way of
_Perpignan_, it may not be amiss to say, that I left the last town about
seven o'clock in the morning, in a heavy French _cabriolet_, drawn by
one strong English horse, charged with four persons, and much baggage;
yet we arrived here about three o'clock the same day; where at our
supper, we had a specimen of Spanish cookery, as well as Spanish beds,
bills, and custom-house officers: to the latter, a small donative is
better bestowed, than the trouble of unpacking all your baggage, and
much better relished by them: as to the host, he was neither rude, nor
over civil; the cookery more savoury than clean; the window frames
without glass, the rooms without chimneys. The demand for such
entertainment is rather dearer than in France.
Before I left _Perpignan_, I found it necessary to exchange some French
gold for Spanish, and to be well informed of the two kingdoms. There
were many people willing to change my money; though but few, indeed, who
would give the full value. Formerly, you know, the _Pyrenees_ were
charged with gold, from whence the Phoenicians fetched great quantities
every year. In the time of the Romans, much of the _Pyrenean_ gold was
sent to Rome; and a King of Portugal, so lately as the year 1512, had a
crown and sceptre made of the gold washed from those hills into the
_Tagus_; their treasures were known, you may remember, even to Ovid.
"Quod suo Tagus amne vehit fluit
Ignibus aurum."
But as I did not expect to find a gold mine on my passage into Spain, I
thought it best to carry a little with me, and leave nothing to chance;
and I should have been content to have found, by the help of my gun, the
bird vulgarly called the _Gelinotte des Pyrenees_; it has a curved bill
like a hawk, and two long feathers in the tail; but though I saw a great
number of different birds, I was not fortunate enough to find the
_Ganga_, for that is the true name of a bird, so beautiful in feather,
and of so delicate a flavour, that it is even mentioned by Aristotle,
and is a native of these hills.
P.S. I forgot to tell you, that the day we left _Cette_ we stopped,
according to custom, to eat our cold dinner, in an olive grove; from
whence we had a noble view of the Mediterranean Sea, and a most
delightfully situated _Chateau_, standing upon the banks of a salt-water
lake, at least twenty miles in circumference, "clear as the expanse of
heaven;" and that while we were preparing to spread our napkin, a
gentleman of genteel appearance came out from a neighbouring vineyard,
and asked us if any accident had happened, and desired, if we wanted
any thing, that we would command him, or whatever his house afforded,
pointing to the _Chateau_, which had so attracted our notice: we told
him, our business was to eat our little repast, with his leave, under,
what we presumed, was his shade also, and invited him to partake with
us. He had already captivated us by his polite attention, and by his
agreeable conversation: we lamented that we had not better pretensions
to have visited his lovely habitation. We found he was well acquainted
with many English persons of fashion, who have occasionally resided at
Montpellier; and I am sure, his being a winter inhabitant of that city,
must be one of the most favourable circumstances the town affords. These
little attentions to strangers, are never omitted by the well-bred part
of the French nation. I could not refill asking the name of a gentleman,
to whom I felt myself so much obliged, nor avoid telling him my own,
and what had passed at the town of _Cette_, relative to the musical
instruments, as one of the largest was still with us.--He seemed
astonished, that I preferred the long and dangerous journey by land, as
he thought it, to _Barcelona_, when I might, he said, have run down to
it over a smooth sea, in the same bark I had put my baggage on board.
LETTER XVI.
GIRONE.
From _Jonquere_ to _Figuere_ (about four hours journey, so they reckon
in Spain) the road is intolerable, and the country beautiful; over which
the traveller may, as nature has done, repose himself upon a flowery
bed, indeed; for nature surely could not do more for the pleasure and
profit of man, than she has done from _Jonquere_ to _Girone_. The town
of _Figuere_ is, properly speaking, the first town in Spain; for
_Jonquere_ is rather a hamlet; but _Figuere_ has a decent, comfortable
appearance, abounds with merchants and tradesmen, and at a little
distance from it stands the strongest citadel in Spain; indeed it is the
frontier town of the kingdom. The quietness of the people, and seeming
tranquility of all ranks and orders of men in Spain, is very remarkable
to a person who has just left a kingdom in every respect so different.
Strangers as we were, and as we must be known to be, we passed
unnoticed; and when we stopped near a cottage to eat our hedge dinner,
neither man, woman, or child came near us, till I asked for water, and
then they brought with it, unasked, dried grapes, and chesnuts, but
instantly retired. I was charmed with the Arcadian inhabitants, and
visited the inside of their cabin; but its situation upon a little
_tump_, on the bank of a brook, shaded by ever-green oaks, and large
spreading fig-trees, was all it had to boast of; it had nothing within
but straw beds, Indian corn, dried grapes, figs, &c.
From _Figuere_ to _Girone_, which is a good day's journey, the country
is enclosed, and the hedgerows, corn fields, &c. had in many places the
appearance of the finest parts of England, only warmed by a hotter sun,
and adorned with woods and trees of other species; instead of the
hawthorn, I found the orange and the pomegranate, the myrtle and the
cypress; in short, all nature seemed to rejoice here, but man alone.
From many parts of this road we had a view of the _Mediterranean_ Sea,
and the Golfe _de Royas_, a fine bay, over which the heads of the
_Pyrenees_ hang; and on the banks of which there seemed to be, not only
villages, but large towns; the situations of which appeared so
enchanting, that I could hardly resist the temptation of visiting
them;--and now wonder why I did not; but at that time, I suppose I did
not recollect I had nothing else to do.
We entered this town rather too late, and were followed to our inn by an
armed soldier, who demanded, in harsh terms, my attendance upon the
Governor; I enquired whether it was customary for a Gentleman, just off
a journey, to be so called upon, and was assured it was not; that my
_passa-porte_ was sufficient. I therefore gave that to my conductor, and
desired him to take it, and return it, which he did, in about half an
hour; but required to be paid for his trouble--a request I declined
understanding.
This is a fortified city, well built, but every house has the appearance
of a convent. I went into the market, where fruit, flesh, and
vegetables, were to be sold in abundance; but instead of that noise
which French and English markets abound with, a general silence and
gravity reigned throughout; which, can hardly be thought possible, where
so many buyers and sellers were collected together. I bought a basket of
figs, but the vender of them spoke to me as softly as if we had been
engaged in a conspiracy, but she did not attempt to impose; I dare say,
she asked me no more than she would have demanded of a Spaniard. The
manners of people are certainly infectious; my spirits sunk in this
town; and I wanted nothing but the language, and a long cloak, to make
me a compleat Spaniard. Our inn was the Golden Fountain; and,
considering it was in Spain, not a bad one. If the town, however, was
gloomy, the country round about it exhibited all the beauties nature can
boast of.
In climates, says some writer, where the earth seems to be the pride and
masterpiece of nature, rags, and dirt, ghastly countenances, and misery
under every form, are oftener met with, than in those countries less
favoured by nature; and the forlorn and wretched condition of the people
in general seemed to belie and disgrace their native soil. Certain it
is, that the natives of the southern parts of Europe have neither the
beauty, the strength, nor comeliness of men born in more northern
climates. I have seen in the South of France, in Spain, and Portugal,
the aged especially of both sexes, who hardly appeared human! nor do
you see, in general, even among the youthful, much more beauty than that
which youth alone must give; for youth itself is beauty. Whoever
compares the natives of Switzerland, England, Ireland, and Scotland,
with those of Spain, Portugal, or other Southern climates, will find,
that men born among cold, bleak mountains, are infinitely superior to
those of the finest climates under the sun. Perhaps, however, this
difference may arise more from the want of Liberty than the power of
climate. Oh Liberty! sweet Liberty! without thee life cannot be enjoyed!
Thou parent of comfort, whose children bless thee, though they dwell
among the barren rocks, or the most surly regions of the earth! Thou
blessest, in spite of nature; and in spite of nature, tyranny brings
curses.
LETTER. XVII.
MARTORY.
After we left _Girone_ we passed thro' a fine country, but not equal to
that which is between _Jonquire_ and that town; we lay the first night
at a _veritiable_ Spanish _posada_; it was a single house, called the
_Grenade_. We arrived there early in the afternoon; and though the
inside of the house was but so-so, every thing without was charming, and
our host and his two daughters gave us the best they had, treated us
with civility enough; and gave us good advice in the prosecution of our
journey to Barcelona; for about four leagues from this house, we found
two roads to that city, one on the side of the Mediterranean Sea, the
other inland. He advised us to take the former, which exactly tallied
with my inclination, for wherever the sea-coast affords a road in hot
climates, that must be the pleasantest; and I was very impatient till we
got here.
After we had left the high inland road, we had about three leagues to
the sea side, and the village on its margin where we were to lie; this
road was through a very wild, uncultivated country, over-run with
underwood and tall firs. We saw but few houses and met with fewer
people. When we came near the sea, the country, however, improved upon
us; and the farms, churches, convents, and beacons, upon the high lands,
rendered the prospects every way pleasing. We crossed a shallow river
several times, adorned on both sides with an infinite quantity of tall
beeches, on one of which trees (boy like) I cut my name, too high for
_other boys_, without a ladder, to cut me _out_ again. At length we
arrived at the village, and at a _posada_, than which nothing could be
more dreadful, after the day-light was gone; for beside the rudest
mistress, and the dirtiest servants that can be conceived, there lay a
poor Frenchman dying in the next room to us; nay, I may almost say, in
the same room with us, for it could hardly be called a door which parted
us. This poor man, who had not a shilling in his pocket, had lain twenty
days ill in that house; but was attended by the priests of the town with
as much assiduity as if he had been a man of fashion: he had been often
exhorted by them, it seems, to confess, but had refused. The night we
came, he feared would be his last, and he determined to make his
confession; I was in the room when he signified his desire so to do; and
all the people were dismissed by the parish priest. I returned to my
room, and could now and then hear what the priest said: but the sick
man's voice was too low: his crimes however, I fear, were of an high
nature, for we heard the priest say, with a voice of impatience and
seeming horror, _Adonde--adonde--adonde_?--Where--where--where?
You may imagine, a bad supper, lighted by stinking oil, burning in an
iron lamp hung against the side of a wall, (for there were no candles to
be had) and while the sick man was receiving the last sacrament, would
have been little relished had it been good; that our dirty straw beds
were no very comfortable retreat; and that day-light the next morning
was what we most wanted and wished for. Indeed, I never spent a more
miserable night; but it was amply made up to us by this day's journey to
_Martory_, for we coasted it along the sea, which sometimes washed the
wheels of my chaise At others, we crossed over high head-lands, which
afforded such extensive views over both elements, as abundantly overpaid
us for the sufferings of the preceding evening. The roads, indeed, over
these head-lands were bad enough, in some places dangerous; but between
walking and riding, with a steady horse, we got on very well.
On this coast, we found a village at every league, inhabited by rich
fishermen, and wealthy ship-builders, and found all these artificers
busy enough in their professions; in some places, there were an hundred
men dragging in, by bodily strength, the _Saine_; at others, still more
surprising, ships of two hundred tons were building on the dry land,
where no tide rises to launch them! These villages are built close to
the sea; nothing intervenes between their houses and the ocean but their
little gardens, in which, under the shade of their orange, lemon, and
vine trees, which were loaded with fruit, sat the wives and daughters of
the fishermen, making black silk lace. Though I call them villages, and
though they are in reality so, yet the houses were such, in general, as
would make a good figure even in a fine city; for they were all well
built, and many adorned on the outside with no contemptible paintings.
The town, indeed, from which I write, is situated in the same manner,
but is a little city, and affords a _posada_, (I speak by comparison,
remember) comfortable enough; and the sea a fish, they call the red
fish, than which nothing can be more delicious; I may venture almost to
call it the sea woodcock, for it is eaten altogether in the same manner.
We fared better than my poor horse, for not a grain of oats or barley
did this city afford; nor has he tasted, or have I seen, a morsel of hay
since I parted from my little _Dona_, near the foot of the _Pyrenees_.
Tomorrow we have seven hours to _Barcelona_; I can see the high cape
under which it stands, and from under which, you shall soon hear again
from me.
LETTER XVIII.
BARCELONA.
Upon our arrival at this town, we were obliged to wait at the outward
gate above half an hour, no person being admitted to enter from twelve
till one, tho' all the world may go out; that hour being allotted for
the guards, &c. to eat their dinner. As I had no letter to any person in
this city, but to the French Consul, I had previously wrote to a Mr.
Ford, a merchant at Barcelona, with whom I had formerly travelled from
London to Bath, to beg the favour of him to provide lodgings for me; I
therefore enquired for Mr. Ford's house, and found myself conducted to
that of a Mr. Curtoys; Mr. Ford, unfortunately for me, was dead; but the
same house and business is carried on by Messrs. Adams and Curtoys, who
had received and opened my letter. After this family had a little
_reconnoitred_ mine, Mr. Curtoys came down, and with much civility, and
an hospitable countenance, told me his dinner was upon the table, and in
very pressing terms desired that we would partake of it. We found here a
large family, consisting of his wife, a motherly good-looking woman;
Mrs. Adams, her daughter by a former husband, a jolly dame; and several
children. Mrs. Adams spoke fluently the Catalan, French, English, and
Spanish tongues; all which were necessary at a table where there were
people who understood but one only of each language. Mr. Curtoys pressed
us to dine with him a few days after, a favour which I, only, accepted;
when he told me, he was nominated, but not absolutely fixed in his
Consulship of this city; that he had obtained it by the favour of Lord
Rochford, who had spent some days at his house, on his way to Madrid,
when his Lordship was Ambassador to this Court; and before I went from
him, he desired I and my family would dine with him at his country-house
the next day: instead of which, I waited upon him in the morning, and
told him, that I had formerly received civilities from his friend, Lord
Rochford, and believed him once to have been mine; but that,
unfortunately, I found now it was much otherwise; and observed, that
perhaps his politeness to me might injure him with his Lordship; and
that I thought it right to say so much, that he might be guided by his
own judgment, and not follow the bent of his inclination, if he thought
it might be prejudicial to his interest; and by the way of a little
return for the hospitable manner in which he had received and
entertained me, and my family, I took out an hundred and twenty-five
pound in Banknotes, and desired him to send them to England; adding,
that I had about thirty pounds in my pocket, which I hoped would be
sufficient for my expences, till he had an account of their safe
arrival. But instead of his wonted chearful countenance, I was
_contunded_ with an affected air of the man of business; my bank notes
were shined against the window, turned and twisted about, as if the
utmost use they could be of were to light the Consul's pipe after
supper. I asked him whether he had any doubts of their authenticity; and
shewed him a letter to confirm my being the person I said I was, written
to me but a short time before, from his friend Lord Rochford, from whom
he too had just received a letter: he then observed; that a burnt child
dreads the fire; that their House had suffered; that a Moor had lately
passed thro' France, who had put off a great number of false Bank notes,
and that I might indiscreetly have taken some of them; but assuring him
that I had received all mine from the hands of Messrs. Hoare, and that I
would not call upon him for the money till he had received advice of
their being good, I took my leave, and left my notes.
But as there was a possibility, nay, a probability, that Mr. Curtoys
might not have very early advice from England, or might not give it to
me if he had, (for all his hospitality of countenance and civility was
departed) I thought it was necessary to secure a retreat; for I should
have informed you, that I found at his table a Mr. Wombwell, whose uncle
I had lived in great intimacy with many years before at Gibraltar, and
who left this man (now a Spanish merchant) all his fortune. Indeed, I
should have said, that Mr. Wombwell had visited me, and even had asked
me to dine with him; and as he appeared infinitely superior both in
understanding, address, and knowledge of the world to good Mr. Curtoys,
I went to him, with that confidence which a good note, and a good cause,
gives to every man. I told him the Consul's fears, and my own, lest I
might want money before Mr. Curtoys was ready to supply me; in which
case, and which only, I asked Mr. Wombwell if he would change me a
twenty pound Bank note, and shewed him one which I then took out of my
pocket; but Mr. Wombwell too examined my notes, with all the attention
of a cautious tradesman, and put on all that imperiousness which riches,
and the haughty Spanish manners to an humble suitor, could suggest. I
tell you, my dear Sir, what passed between us, more out of pity than
resentment towards him; he said I will recollect it as nearly as I can,
"that if you are Mr. Thicknesse, you must have lived a great deal in the
world; it is therefore unfortunate, you are not acquainted with Sir
Thomas Gascoyne, a gentleman of fashion, well known in England, and now
in the same auberge with you." I confessed that I had seen, and
conversed with Sir Thomas Gascoyne there, and that it was very true, he
was to me, and I to him, utter strangers; but I observed, that Sir
Thomas had been ten years upon his travels, and that I had lived
fourteen years in retirement before he set out, and therefore that was
but a weak circumstance of my being an impostor; I observed too, that
impostors travelled singly, not with a wife and children; and that
though I by no means wished to force his money out of his pocket, I
coveted much to remove all suspicions of my being an adventurer, for
many obvious reasons. This reply opened a glimpse of generosity, though
sullied with arrogance and pride. "I should be sorry (said he) to see a
countryman, who is an honest man, in want of money; and therefore, as I
think it is probable you are Mr. Thicknesse, I will, when you want your
note changed, change it;" adding, however, that "he thanked God! if he
lost the money, he could afford it." I then told him, he had put it in
my power to convince him I was Mr. Thicknesse, by declining, as I did,
the boon he offered me; I declined it, indeed, with an honest
indignation, because I am sure he did not doubt my being Mr. Thicknesse,
and that _he_, not _I_, was the REAL PRETENDER. I had before told him,
that I had some letters in my pocket written by a Spanish Gentleman of
fashion, whose hand-writing must be well known in that town;--but to
this he observed, that there was not a Moor in Spain who could not write
Spanish;--he further remarked, that if I was Mr. Thicknesse, I had, in a
publication of my travels, spoke of Sir John Lambert, a Parisian Banker,
in very unhandsome terms, and, for aught he knew, I might take the same
liberty with his name, in future. I acknowledged that his charge was
very true, and that his suggestion might be so; that I should always
speak and publish such truths as I thought proper, either for the
information of others, or the satisfaction of myself. Mr. Wombwell,
however, acknowledged, that Mr. Curtoys, to whom I shewed Lord
Rochford's letter to me, ought to have been quite satisfied whether I
was, or was not an impostor; but I still left him under real or
pretended doubts, with a resolution to live upon bread and water, or the
bounty of a taylor, my honest landlord; for, tho' a Spaniard, I am sure
he had that perception, and that humanity too, which Mess. Curtoys and
Wombwell have not, or artfully concealed from me: yet, in spite of all
the unkind behaviour of the latter, I could not help shewing him my
share of vanity too; I therefore sent him a letter, and enclosed therein
others written to me by the late Lord Holland, the Duke of Richmond,
Lord Oxford, and many other people of rank; and desired him to give me
credit, at least, for _that_ which he could lose nothing by--that of my
being, if I was an impostor, an ingenuous one. He sent the letters,
handsomely sealed up, back again, without any answer; and there
finished for ever, our correspondence, unless _he should renew it_.
I am ashamed of saying so much about these men and myself, where I could
find much better subjects, and some, perhaps, of entertainment; but it
is necessary to shew how very proper it is for a stranger to take with
him letters of recommendation when he travels, not only to other
kingdoms, but to every city where he proposes to reside, even for a
short time; for, as Mr. Wombwell justly observed, when I have a letter
of recommendation from my friend, or correspondent, I can have no doubt
who the bearer is; and I had rather take that recommendation than Bank
notes.--I confess, that merchants cannot be too cautious and
circumspect; I can, and do forgive Mr. Curtoys, for reasons he shall
shew you under his own hand: but I have too good an opinion of Mr.
Wombwell's perception to so readily forget his shrewd reprisals; though
I must, I cannot refrain from telling you what a flattering thing he
said to me: I had shewn him a printed paper, signed _Junius_; said he,
"If you wrote this, you may be, for aught I know, really JUNIUS." I
assured him that I was not; for being in Spain, and out of the reach of
the inquisitorial court of Westminster-Hall, I would instantly avow it,
for fear I should die suddenly, and carry that secret, like _Mrs.
Faulkner_, to the grave with me.
LETTER XIX.
BARCELONA.
You will, as I am, be tired of hearing so much about Messrs. Wombwell,
Curtoys, Adams, and Co.--but as there are some other persons here, which
my last letter must have put you in some pain about, I must renew the
subject. I had, you know, some letters of recommendation to the _Marquis
of Grimaldi_, which I had reserved to deliver into his Excellency's
hands at _Madrid_; but which I found necessary to send away by the post,
and to request the honour of his Excellency to write to some Spaniard of
fashion here, to shew me countenance, and to clear up my suspected
character. I accordingly wrote to the _Marquis_, and sent him my letters
of recommendation, but sixteen days was the soonest I could expect an
answer. I therefore, in the mean time, wrote myself to the _Intendant_
of _Barcelona_, a man of sense, and high birth; I told him my name, and
that I had letters in my pocket from a Spanish Gentleman of fashion,
whom he knew, which would convince him who I was, and desired leave to
wait upon him. The Intendant fixed six o'clock the same evening. I was
received, and conducted into his apartment, for he was ill, by one of
his daughters; the only woman I had seen in Barcelona that had either
beauty or breeding;--this young Lady had both in a high degree. After
shewing my letters, and having conversed a little with the Intendant, a
Lady with a red face, and a nose as big as a brandy bottle, accosted me
in English: "Behold, Sir, (said she) your countrywoman." This was Madam
O'Reilly, wife to the Governor of _Monjuique_ Castle, and brother to the
Gentleman of that name, so well known, and so amply provided for, by the
late and present King of Spain. She was very civil, and seemed
sensible. Her husband, the Governor, soon after came in, and the whole
family smiled upon me. I then began to think I should escape both goal
and inquisition. Mrs. O'Reilly visited my family. Mr. O'Reilly borrowed
a house for me, and a charming one too; I say borrowed it, for no
Spaniard letts his house; I was only to make him some _recompense for
his politeness and generosity_. The Intendant even sent Gov. O'Reilly to
know why Mr. Curtoys had not presented me, on the court-day, to the
Captain-General. Mr. Consul Curtoys was obliged to give his reasons in
person; had they been true, they were good: the Intendant accepted them,
and said he would present me himself. Things seemed now to take a
favourable turn: Mr. Curtoys visited me on his way back from the
Intendant's; assured me he had told him that I was a man of character,
and an honest man; and that though he could not _see me_ as _Consul
Curtoys_, he should be glad to see me as _Merchant Curtoys_. On the
other hand, the _Marquis of Grimaldi_, with the politeness of a
minister, and the feelings of humanity, wrote me a very flattering
letter indeed, and sent it by a special _courier_, who came in four days
from _Madrid_. Now, thought I, a fig for your Wombwells, Curtoys, &c.
The first minister's favour, and the _shining countenance_ of Madam
O'Reilly, must carry me through every thing. But alas! it was quite
otherwise;--the _courier_ who brought my letter had directions to
deliver it into my own hands; but either by _his blunder_, or _Madam
O'Reilly's_, I did not get it till _nine hours_ after it arrived, and
then _from the hands_ of _Madam O'Reilly's_ servant. The contents of
this letter were soon known: the favour of the minister at _Madrid_ did
not shine upon me at the _Court of Barcelona_! I visited Madam O'Reilly,
who looked at me,--if I may use such a coarse expression,--"like God's
revenge against murder." I could not divine what I had done, or what
omitted to do. I could get no admittance at the Intendant's, neither. I
proposed going to _Montserrat_, and asked my _fair_ countrywoman for a
letter to one of the monks; but--_she knew nobody there, not she_:--Why
then, madam, said I, perhaps I had better go back to France:--Oh! but,
says she, perhaps the _Marquis of Grimaldi_ will not let you; adding,
that the laws of France and Spain were very different.--But, pray,
madam, said I, what have the laws of either kingdom to do with me, while
I violate none of them? I am a citizen of the world, and consequently
free in every country.--Now, Sir, to decypher all this, which I did by
the help of some _characters_ an honest Spaniard gave me:--Why, says he,
they say you are a _great Captain_; that you have had an attention shewn
you by the _Marquis of Grimaldi_, which none of the O'Reilly's ever
obtained; and they are afraid that you are come here to take the eldest
brother's post from him, and that you are to command the troops upon the
second expedition to _Algiers_; for every body is much dissatisfied
with his conduct on the first; adding, that the Spaniards do not love
him.--I told him, that might arise from his being a stranger; but I had
been well assured, and I firmly believed it, that he is a gallant, an
able, and a good officer; but, said I, that cannot be the reason of so
much shyness in the _Intendant_, even if it does raise any uneasiness in
the O'Reilly's family:--Yes, said he, it does; for the Captain-General
O'Reilly is married lately to one of the Intendant's daughters. So you
see here was another mine sprung under me; and I determined to set out
in a day or two for _Montserrat_. I had but one card more to play, and
that was to carry the open letter I had to the French Consul, and which,
I forgot to tell you, I had shewn to the acute, discerning, and
sagacious merchant Wombwell. It was written by _Madame de Maigny_, the
Lady of the _Chevalier de Maigny_, of the regiment _d'Artois_, one of
the Gentlemen with whom I had eat that voluptuous supper in company at
_Pont St. Esprit_; but, as Mr. Wombwell shrewdly observed, my name was
not even mentioned in that letter, it was the _bearer only_ who was
recommended; and how could that Lady, any more than Mr. Wombwell, tell,
but that I had murdered the first bearer, and robbed him of his
recommendatory letter, and dressed myself in his scarlet and gold-laced
coat, to practise the same wicked arts upon their lives and fortunes?
Now, you will naturally wish to know how Sir Thomas Gascoyne, my
_vis-a-vis_ neighbour in the same _Hotel_, conducted himself. I had,
before all this fuss, eat, drank, and conversed with him: he is a
sensible, genteel, well-bred man; and there was with him Mr. Swinburne,
who was equally agreeable: no wonder, therefore, if I endeavoured to
cultivate an acquaintance with two such men, so much superior, in all
respects, to what the town afforded. Sir Thomas, however, became rather
reserved; perhaps not more so than good policy made necessary for a man
who was only just entering upon a grand tour through the whole kingdom,
from Barcelona to Cadiz, Madrid, &c. &c. I perceived this shyness, but
did not resent it, because I could not censure it. He had no suspicion
of me at first; and if he had afterwards, I could not tell what
circumstances might have been urged against me; and I considered, that
if a man of his fortune and figure could have been suspected, there was
much reason for him to join with others in suspecting me.
The Moor, it seems, who had put off the counterfeit bank notes, had been
advertised in all the foreign papers; his person was particularly
described; and as application had been made to the Courts of France and
Spain, to stop the career of such a villain, the Governor of _Barcelona_
had, upon Sir Thomas Gascoyne's first arrival, stopped him, and sent
for the Consul, verily believing he had got the offender. The Moor was
described as a short, plump, black man; and as Sir Thomas has black
eyes, and is rather _en bon point_, the plain, honest Governor had not
discernment enough to see that ease and good breeding in Sir Thomas,
which no Moor, however well he may imitate Bank notes, can counterfeit.
But as Sir Thomas had letters of credit upon Mr. Curtoys, which
ascertained his person and rank, this adventure became a laughable one
to him. It is, indeed, from his mouth I relate it, though, perhaps, not
with all the circumstances he told me.--Now, had my person tallied as
well as Sir Thomas's did with that of the itinerant Moor, I should
certainly have been in one of the round towers, which stick pretty thick
in the walls of the fortification of this town.
You will tremble--I assure you, I do--when I think of another escape I
had; and I will tell you how:--The day after I left _Cette_, I came to
a spot where the roads divide; here I asked two men, which was mine to
_Narbonne_? one of them answered me in English; he was a shabby, but
genteel-looking young man, said he came from _Italy_, and was going to
_Barcelona_; that he had been defrauded of his money at _Venice_ by a
parcel of sharpers, and was going to _Spain_ to get a passage to
Holland, of which country he was a native; he was then in treaty, he
said, with the other man to sell him a pair of breeches, to furnish him
with money to carry him on; and as I had no servant at that time, he
earnestly intreated me to take him into my service: I would not do that,
you may be sure; but lest he might be an unfortunate man, like myself, I
told him, if he could contrive to lie at the inns I did, I would pay for
his bed and supper. He accepted an offer, I soon became very sorry I had
made; and when we arrived at _Perpignan_, I gave him a little money to
proceed, but absolutely forbad him either to walk near my chaise, or to
sleep at the same inns I did; for as I knew him not, he should not enter
into another kingdom as one in my _suite_; and I saw no more of him till
some days after my arrival at Barcelona, where he accosted me in a
better habit, and shewed me some real, or counterfeit gold he had got,
he said, of a friend who knew his father at Amsterdam. He was a bold,
daring fellow; and it was with some difficulty I could prevail upon him
not to walk _cheek by jole_ with me along the ramparts.
Soon after this I was informed, that a fine-dressed, little black-eyed
man was arrived in a bark from Italy. This man proved to be, as Mr.
Curtoys informed me, the very Moor whom Sir Thomas Gascoyne was
suspected to be: he was apprehended, and committed to one of the round
towers. But what will you say, or what would have been my lot, had I
taken the other man into my service?--for the minute _my white man_, for
he was a _whitish_ Moor, saw the black one arrive, he decamped; they
were afraid of each other, and both wanted to escape; my man went off on
foot; the black man was apprehended, while he was in treaty with the
master of the same bark he came in, to carry him to some other sea-port.
Now had I come in with such a servant, and with my suspected Bank notes,
without letters of credit, or recommendation; had the Moor arrived, who
is the real culprit, and who had been connected with my man, what would
have become of his master, your unfortunate humble servant?--I doubt the
_abilities_ of his Britannic Majesty's Consul would not have been able
to have divided our degrees of _guilt_ properly; and that I should have
experienced but little charity on my straw bed, from the humanity of Mr.
Wombwell. However, I had still one card more to play to reinforce my
purse; it was one, I thought could not fail, and the money was nearer
home:--I had lent, while I was at Calais, thirty guineas to a French
officer, for no other reason but because he wanted it: I knew the man;
and as he promised to pay me in three months, and as that time was
expired, I applied to Mr. Harris, a Scotch merchant, at his house at
Barcelona, on whom the London Bankers of the same name give letters of
credit to travellers. I begged the favour of him to send the note to his
correspondents at Paris, and to procure the money for me, and when it
was paid, that he would give it to me at Barcelona; but Mr. Harris too,
begged to be excused: he started some difficulties, but at length did
give me a receipt for the note, and promised, reluctantly enough, to
send it. I began now to think that I should starve indeed. Every article
of life is high in Spain, and my purse was low. I therefore wrote to Mr.
Curtoys, to know if he had any tidings of the Bank bills; for I had
immediately wrote to Messrs. Hoare, to beg the favour of them to send
Mr. Curtoys the numbers of those which I received at their house; and
they very politely informed me, they had so done. Mr. Consul Curtoys
favoured me with the following answer:
"Mr. Curtoys presents his compliments to Mr. Thicknesse; no ways doubts
the Bank bills _to be good_, from London this post under the 24th past,
they _accuse_ receipt thereof, &c. _Barcelona_, 12th of December, 1775."
As Mr. Curtoys's correspondent had _accused receipt thereof_, I thought
I might too, and accordingly I went and desired my money. The cashier
was sick, they said, and I was desired to call again the next morning,
_when he would be much better_;--I did so, and received my money; and
shall set off immediately for _Montserrat_, singing, and saying what I
do not exactly agree to; but, being at Rome, I would do as they do
there: I therefore taught my children to repeat the following Spanish
proverb:
"Barcelonaes Buéno,
Si la Bolsa fuéno;
Suéno ô no fuéno;
Barcelonaes Buéno."
I will not translate what, I am sure, you will understand the sense of
much better than you will think I experienced the truth. I hope,
however, to have done with my misfortunes; for I am going to visit a
spot inhabited by virtuous and retired men; a place, according to all
reports, cut out by nature for such who are able to sequester themselves
from all worldly concerns; and from such strangers as they are I am sure
I shall meet with more charity for they deal in nothing else than I met
with humanity or politeness at Barcelona.
_P.S._ I should have told you, that before Sir Thomas Gascoyne left this
town, he sent a polite message, to desire to take leave of me and my
family: I therefore waited upon him; and as he proposed visiting
Gibraltar, I troubled him with a letter to my son, then on that duty;
and was sorry soon after to find that my son had left the garrison
before Sir Thomas could arrive at it. If you ask me how Sir Thomas
Gascoyne ventured to make so great a tour through a country so aukwardly
circumstanced for travellers in general, and strangers in particular, I
can only say, that when I saw him he had but just began his long
journey, and that he had every advantage which _religion_ and fortune
could give him. I had none: he travelled with two coaches, two sets of
horses, two saddle mules, and was protected by a train of servants. I
had religion, (but it was a bad one in that country) and only one
footman, who strictly maintained his character, for he always walked.
Indeed, it is the fashion of all Spanish gentlemen to be followed by
their servant on foot. I therefore travelled like a Spaniard; Sir
Thomas like an Englishman. The whole city of _Barcelona_ was in an
uproar the morning Sir Thomas's two coaches set off; and I heard, with
concern, that they both broke down before they got half way to
_Valencia_; but, with pleasure, by a polite letter soon after from Mr.
Swinburne, that they got so far in perfect health.
I am, dear Sir, &c.
_P.S._ Before I quit Barcelona, it will be but just to say, that it is a
good city, has a fine mole, and a noble citadel, beside _Monjuique_, a
strong fort, which stands on a high hill, and which commands the town as
well as the harbour. The town is very large and strongly fortified,
stands in a large plain, and is encompassed with a semi-circular range
of high hills, rather than mountains, which form _un coup-d'oeil_,
that is very pleasing, as not only the sides of the hills are adorned
with a great number of country houses, but the plain also affords a
great many, beside several little villages. The roads too near the town
are very good. As to the city itself, it is rather well built in
general, than abounding with any particular fine buildings. The
Inquisition has nothing to boast of now, either within or without,
having (fortunately for the public) lost a great part of its former
power: it, however, still keeps an awe upon all who live within its
verge. I never saw a town in which trade is carried on with more spirit
and industry; the indolent disposition of the Spaniards of _Castile_,
and other provinces, has not extended ever into this part of Spain. They
have here a very fine theatre; but those who perform upon the stage are
the refuse of the people, and are too bad to be called by the name of
actors. They have neither libraries nor pictures worthy of much notice,
though they boast of one or two paintings in their churches by natives
of the town, François _Guirro_, and John _Arnau_. In the custom-house
hangs a full-length of the present King, so execrable, that one would
wonder it was not put, with the painter, into the Inquisition, as a
libel on royalty and the arts. I am told, at _La Fete Dieu_ there are
some processions of the most ridiculous nature. The fertility of the
earth in and about the town is wonderful; the minute one crop is off the
earth, another is put in; no part of the year puts a stop to vegetation.
In the coldest weather, the market abounds with a great variety of the
choicest flowers; yet their sweets cannot over-power the intolerable
smell which salt fish, and stinking fish united, diffuse over all that
part of the city; and rich as the inhabitants are, you will see the
legs, wings, breasts, and entrails of fowls, in the market, cut up as
joints of meat are in other countries, to be sold separately: nor could
I find in this great city either oil, olives, or wine, that were
tolerable. I paid a guinea a day at the _Fontain d'Or_ for my table;
yet every thing was so dirty, that I always made my dinner from the
dessert; nor was there any other place but the stable of this dirty inn
to put up my horse, where I paid twelve livres a week for straw only;
and whoever lodges at this inn, must pay five shillings a day for their
dinner, whether they dine there or not.
_Catalonia_ is undoubtedly the best cultivated, the richest, and most
industrious province, or principality, in Spain; and the King, who has
the SUN FOR HIS HAT, (for it always shines in some part of his
dominions) has nothing to boast of, equal to _Catalonia_.
As I have almost as much abhorrence to the Moors, as even the Spaniards
themselves, (having visited that coast two or three times, many years
ago) you may be sure I was grieved to meet, every time I went out, so
many maimed and wounded officers and soldiers, who were not long
returned from the unsuccessful expedition to _Algiers_. There are no
troops in the world more steady than the Spaniards; it was not for want
of bravery they miscarried, but there was some sad mismanagement; and
had the Moors followed their blows, not a man of them would have
returned. My servant, (a French deserter) who was upon that expedition,
says, Gen. O'Reilly was the first who landed, and the last who
embarked;--but it is the HEAD, not the _arm_ of a commander in chief,
which is most wanted. The Moors at _le point du jour_, advanced upon
the Spaniards behind a formidable _masked and moving battery_ of
camels: the Spaniards, believing them, by a faint light, to be cavalry,
expended a great part of their strength, spirits, and ammunition, upon
those harmless animals; and it was not till _this curtain_ was removed
that the dreadful carnage began, in which they lost about nine thousand
men. There seems to have been some strange mismanagement; it seems
probable that there was no very good understanding between the marine
and the land officers. The fleet were many days before the town, and
then landed just where the Moors expected they would land. There is
nothing so difficult, so dangerous, nor so liable to miscarriage, as
the war of _invading_: our troops experienced it at _St. Cas_; and they
either have, or will experience it in America. The wild negroes in
Jamaica, to whom Gov. Trelawney wisely gave, what they contended for,
(LIBERTY) were not above fifteen hundred fit to bear arms. I was in
several skirmishes with them, and second in command under Mr. Adair's
brother, a valiant young man who died afterwards in the field, who made
peace with them; yet I will venture to affirm, that though five hundred
disciplined troops would have subdued them in an open country, the
united force of France and England could not have extirpated them from
their fast holds in the mountains. Did not a Baker battle and defeat
two Marshals of France in the Cevennes? And is it probable, that all
the fleets and armies of Great-Britain can conquer America?--England
may as well attempt moving that Continent on this side the Atlantic.
LETTER XX.
MONTSERRAT.
I never left any place with more secret satisfaction than I did
_Barcelona_; exclusive of the entertainment I was prepared to expect,
by visiting this holy mountain; nor have I been disappointed; but on
the contrary, found it, in every respect, infinitely superior to the
various accounts I had heard of it;--to give a perfect description of
it is impossible;--to do that it would require some of those attributes
which the Divine Power by whose almighty handy it was raised, is
endowed with. It is called _Montserrat_, or _Mount-Scie_,[C] by the
_Catalonians_, words which signify a cut or _sawed mountain_; and so
called from its singular and extraordinary form; for it is so broken,
so divided, and so crowned with an infinite number of spiring cones,
or PINE heads, that it has the appearance, at distant view, to be the
work of man; but upon a nearer approach, to be evidently raised by HIM
alone, to whom nothing is impossible. It looks, indeed, like the first
rude sketch of GOD's work; but the design is great, and the execution
such, that it compels all men who approach it, to lift up their hands
and eyes to heaven, and to say,--Oh GOD!--HOW WONDERFUL ARE ALL THY
WORKS!
[C] The arms of the Abbey are--A saw in the middle of a rock.
It is no wonder then, that such a place should be fixed upon for the
residence of holy and devout men; for there is not surely upon the
habitable globe a spot so properly adapted for retirement and
contemplation; it has therefore, for many ages, been inhabited only by
monks and hermits, whose first vow is, never to forsake it;--a vow,
without being either a hermit or a monk, I could make, I think, without
repenting.
If it be true, and some great man has said so, that "_whosoever
delighteth in solitude, is either a wild beast, or a God_;" the
inhabitants of this spot are certainly more than men; for no wild beast
dwells here. But it is the _place_, not the people, I mean at present to
speak of. It stands in a vast plain, seven leagues they call it, but it
is at least thirty miles from _Barcelona_, and nearly in the center of
the principality of _Catalonia_. The height of it is so very
considerable, that in one hour's slow travelling towards it, after we
left _Barcelona_, it shewed its pointed steeples, high over the lesser
mountains, and seemed so very near, that it would have been difficult to
have persuaded a person, not accustomed to such deceptions, in so clear
an atmosphere to believe, that we had much more than an hour's journey
to arrive at it; instead of which, we were all that day in getting to
_Martorel_, a small city, still three leagues distant from it, where we
lay at the Three Kings, a pretty good inn, kept by an insolent imposing
Italian. _Martorel_ stands upon the steep banks of the river
_Lobregate_, over which there is a modern bridge, of a prodigious
height, the piers of which rest on the opposite shore, against a Roman
triumphal arch of great solidity, and originally of great beauty. I
think I tell you the truth when I say, that I could perceive the
convent, and some of the hermitages, when I first saw the mountain, at
above twenty miles distance. From _Martorel_, however, they were as
visible as the mountain itself, to which the eye was directed, down the
river, the banks of which were adorned with trees, villages, houses, &c.
and the view terminated by this the most glorious monument in nature.
When I first saw the mountain, it had the appearance of an infinite
number of rocks cut into _conical_ forms, and built one upon another to
a prodigious height. Upon a nearer view, each cone appeared of itself a
mountain; and the _tout ensemble_ compose an enormous mass of the
_Lundus Helmonti_, or plumb-pudding stone, fourteen miles in
circumference, and what the Spaniards _call_ two leagues in height. As
it is like unto no other mountain, so it stands quite unconnected with
any, though not very distant from some very lofty ones. Near the base of
it, on the south side, are two villages, the largest of which is
_Montrosol_; but my eyes were attracted by two ancient towers, which
flood upon a hill near _Colbaton_, the smallest, and we drove to that,
where we found a little _posada_, and the people ready enough to furnish
us with mules and asses, for we were now become quite impatient to visit
the hallowed and celebrated convent, _De Neustra Senora_; a convent, to
which pilgrims resort from the furthest parts of Europe, some bearing,
by way of penance, heavy bars of iron on their backs, others cutting and
slashing their naked bodies with wire cords, or crawling to it on
all-fours, like the beasts of the field, to obtain forgiveness of their
sins, by the intercession of _our Lady of Montserrat_.
When we had ascended a steep and rugged road, about one hour, and where
there was width enough, and the precipices not too alarming, to give our
eyes the utmost liberty, we had an earnest of what we were to expect
above, as well as the extensive view below; our impatience to see more
was encreased by what we had already seen; the majestic convent opened
to us a view of her venerable walls; some of the hermits' cells peeped
over the broken precipices still higher; while we, glutted with
astonishment, and made giddy with delight and amazement, looked up at
all with a reverential awe, towards that God who raised the
PILES, and the holy men who dwell among them.--Yes, Sir,--we
caught the holy flame; and I hope we came down better, if not wiser,
than we went up. After ascending full two hours and a half more, we
arrived on a flat part on the side, and about the middle of the
mountain, on which the convent is built; but even that flat was made so
by art, and at a prodigious expence. Here, however, was width enough to
look securely about us; and, good God! what an extensive field of earth,
air, and sea did it open! the ancient towers, which at first attracted
my notice near _Colbaton_, were dwindled into pig-sties upon a
_mounticule_. At length, and a great length it was, we arrived at the
gates of the _Sanctuary_; on each side of which, on high pedestals,
stand the enormous statues of two saints; and nearly opposite, on the
base of a rock, which leans in a frightful manner over the buildings,
and threatens destruction to all below, a great number of human sculls
are fixed in the form of a cross. Within the gate is a square cloister,
hung round with paintings of the miracles performed by the Holy Virgin,
with votive offerings, &c. It was Advent week, when none of the monks
quit their apartments, but one whose weekly duty it was to attend the
call of strangers; nor did the whole community afford but a single
member (_pere tendre_, a _Fleming_) who could speak French. It was _Pere
Pascal_, by whom we were shewn every mark of politeness and attention,
which a man of the world could give, but administered with all that
humility and meekness, so becoming a man who had renounced it. He put us
in possession of a good room, with good beds; and as it was near night,
and very cold, he ordered a brazier of red-hot embers into our
apartment; and having sent for the cook of the strangers' kitchen, (for
there are four public kitchens) and ordered him to obey our commands, he
retired to evening _vespers_; after which he made us a short visit, and
continued to do so, two or three times every day, while we staid.
Indeed, I began to fear we staid too long, and told him so; but he
assured me the apartment was ours for a month or two, if we pleased.
During our stay, he admitted me into his apartments, and filled my box
with delicious Spanish snuff, and shewed us every attention we would
wish, and much more than, as _unrecommended_ strangers, we could expect.
All the poor who come here are fed gratis for three days, and all the
sick received in the hospital. Sometimes, on particular festivals, seven
thousand arrive in one day; but people of condition pay a reasonable
price for what they eat. There was before our apartment a long covered
gallery; and tho' we were in a deep recess of the rocks, which projected
wide and high on our right and left, we had in front a most extensive
view of the _world below_, and the more distant Mediterranean Sea. It
was a moon-light night; and, in spite of the cold, it was impossible to
be shut out of the enchanting lights and shades which her silver beams
reflected on the rude rocks above, beneath, and on all sides of
us.--Every thing was as still as death, till the sonorous convent bell
warned the Monks to midnight prayer. At two o'clock, we heard some of
the tinkling bells of the hermits' cells above give notice, that they
too were going to their devotion at the appointed hour: after which I
retired to my bed; but my mind was too much awakened to permit me to
sleep; I was impatient for the return of day-light, that I might proceed
still higher; for, miser like, tho' my _coffers were too full_, I
coveted more; and accordingly, after breakfast, we eagerly set our feet
to the first _round_ of the _hermit's ladder_; it was a stone one
indeed, but stood in all places dreadfully steep, and in many almost
perpendicular. After mounting up a vast chasm in the rock, yet full of
trees and shrubs, about a thousand paces, fatigued in body, and
impatient for a safe resting place, we arrived at a small hole in the
rock, through which we were glad to crawl; and having got to the secure
side of it, prepared ourselves, by a little rest, to proceed further;
but not, I assure you, without some apprehensions, that if there was no
better road down, we must have become _hermits_. After a second
clamber, not quite so dreadful as the first, but much longer, we got
into some flowery and serpentine walks, which lead to two or three of
the nearest hermitages then visible, and not far off, one of which hung
over so horrible a precipice, that it was terrifyingly picturesque. We
were now, however, I thought, certainly in the garden of Eden! Certain I
am, Eden could not be more beautifully adorned; for God alone is the
gardener here also; and consequently, every thing prospered around us
which could gratify the eye, the nose and, the imagination.
"Profuse the myrtle spread unfading boughs,
Expressive emblem of eternal vows."
For the myrtle, the eglantine, the jessamin, and all the smaller kind of
aromatic shrubs and flowers, grew on all sides thick and spontaneously
about us; and our feet brushed forth the sweets of the lavender,
rosemary and thyme, till we arrived at the first, and peaceful
hermitage of _Saint Tiago_. We took possession of the holy inhabitants
little garden, and were charmed with the neatness, and humble
simplicity, which in every part characterised the possessor. His little
chapel, his fountain, his vine arbor, his stately cypress, and the walls
of his cell, embraced on all sides with ever-greens, and adorned with
flowers, rendered it, exclusive of its situation, wonderfully pleasing.
His door, however, was fast, and all within was silent; but upon
knocking, it was opened by the venerable inhabitant: he was cloathed in
a brown cloth habit, his beard was very long, his face pale, his manners
courteous; but he seemed rather too deeply engaged in the contemplation
of the things of the next world, to lose much of his time with _such
things_ as _us_. We therefore, after peeping into his apartments, took
his benediction, and he retired, leaving us all his worldly possessions,
but his straw bed, his books, and his beads. This hermitage is confined
between two pine heads, within very narrow bounds; but it is artfully
fixed, and commands at noon day a most enchanting prospect to the East
and to the North. Though it is upwards of two thousand three hundred
paces from the convent, yet it hangs so directly over it, that the rocks
convey not only the sound of the organ, and the voices of the monks
singing in the choir, but you may hear men in common conversation from
the piazza below.
This is a long letter; but I know you would not willingly have left me
in the midst of danger, or before I was safe arrived at the first stage
towards heaven, and seen one humble host on GOD's high road.
_P.S._ At two o'clock, after midnight, these people rise, say mass, and
continue the remainder of the night in prayer and contemplation. The
hermits tell you, it was upon high mountains that God chose to manifest
his will:--_fundamenta ejus in montibus sanctis_, say they;--they
consider these rocks as symbols of their penitence, and mortifications;
and their being so beautifully covered with fine flowers, odoriferous
and rare plants, as emblems of the virtue and innocence of the religious
inhabitants; or how else, say they, could such rocks produce
spontaneously flowers in a desart, which surpass all that art and nature
combined can do, in lower and more favourable soils? They may well think
so; for human reason cannot account for the manner by which such
enormous quantities of trees, fruits, and flowers are nourished,
seemingly without soil. But that which established a church and convent
on this mountain, was the story of a hermit who resided here many years;
this was _Juan Guerin_, who lived on this mountain alone, the austerity
of whose life was such, that the people below believed he subsisted
without eating or drinking. As some very extraordinary circumstances
attended this man's life, all which are universally believed here, it
may not be amiss to give you some account of him:--You must know, Sir,
then, that the devil envying the happiness of this good man equipped
himself in the habit of a hermit, and possessed himself of a cavern in
the same mountain, which still bears the name of the _Devil's Grot_;
after which he took occasion to throw himself in the way of poor
_Guerin_, to whom he expressed his surprize at seeing one of his own
order dwell in a place he thought an absolute desert; but thanked God,
for giving him so fortunate a meeting. Here the devil, and _Guerin_
became very intimate, and conversed much together on spiritual matters;
and things went on well enough between them for a while, when another
devil chum to the first, possessed the body of a certain Princess,
daughter of a Count of _Barcelona_, who became thereby violently
tormented with horrible convulsions. She was taken to the church by her
afflicted father. The dæmon who possessed her, and who, spoke for her,
said, that nothing could relieve her from her sufferings but the
prayers of a devout and pious hermit, named _Guerin_, who dwelt on
_Montserrat_. The father, therefore, immediately repaired to _Guerin_,
and besought his prayers and intercession for the recovery of his
daughter. It so happened (for so the devil would have it) that this
business could not be perfectly effected in less than nine days; and
that the Princess must be left that time alone with _Guerin_ in his
cave. Poor _Guerin_, conscious of his frail nature, opposed this measure
with all his might; but there was no resisting the argument and
influence of the devil, and she was accordingly left. Youth, beauty, a
cave, solitude, and virgin modesty, were too powerful not to overcome
even the chaste vows and pious intentions of poor _Guerin_. The devil
left the virgin, and possessed the saint. He consulted his false friend,
and told him how powerful this impure passion was become, and his
intentions of flying from the danger; but the devil advised him _to
return to his cell_, and pray to God to protect him from sin. _Guerin_
took his council, returned and fell into the fatal snare. The devil then
persuaded him to kill the Princess, in order to conceal his guilt, and
to tell her father she had forsaken his abode while he was intent on
prayer. _Guerin_ did so; but became very miserable, and at length
determined to make a pilgrimage to Rome, to obtain a remission of his
complicated crimes. The Pope enjoined him to return to _Montserrat_, on
all fours, and to continue in that state, without once looking up to
heaven, for the space of seven years, or 'till a child of three months
old told him, his sins were forgiven: all which _Guerin_ chearfully
complied with, and accordingly crawled back to the defiled mountain.
Soon after the expiration of the seven years Count _Vifroy_, the father
of the murdered Princess, was hunting on the mountain of _Montserrat_,
and passing near _Guerin's_ cave, the dogs entered, and the servant
seeing a hideous figure concluded they had found the wild beast they
were in pursuit of: they informed the Count of what they had seen, who
gave directions to secure the beast alive, which was accordingly done;
for he was so over-grown with hair, and so deformed in shape, that they
had no idea of the creature being human. He was therefore kept in the
Count's stable at _Barcelona_, and shewn to his visitors as a wonderful
and singular wild beast. During this time, while a company were
examining this extraordinary animal, a nurse with a young child in her
arms looked upon it, and the child after fixing his eyes stedfastly for
a few minutes on _Guerin_, said, "_Guerin, rise, thy sins are forgiven
thee_!"--_Guerin_ instantly rose, threw himself at the Count's feet,
confessed the crimes he had been guilty of, and desired to receive the
punishment due to them, from the hands of him whom he had so highly
injured; but the Count, perceiving that God had forgiven him, forgave
him also.
I will not trouble you with all the particulars which attended this
miracle; it will be sufficient to say, that the Count and _Guerin_ went
to take up the body of the murdered Princess, for burial with her
ancestors; but, to their great astonishment found her there alive,
possessing the same youth and beauty she had been left with, and no
alteration of any kind, but a purple streak about her neck where the
cord had been twisted, and wherewith _Guerin_ had strangled her. The
father desired her to return to _Barcelona_; but she was enjoined by the
Holy Virgin, she said, to spend her days on that miraculous spot; and
accordingly a church and convent was built there, the latter inhabited
by Nuns, of which the Princess (who had risen from the dead) was the
Abbess. It was called the Abbey _des Pucelles_, of the order of _St.
Benoit_, and was founded in the year 801. But such a vast concourse of
people, of both sexes, resorted to it, from all parts of the world, that
at length it was thought prudent to remove the women to a convent at
_Barcelona_, and place a body of _Benedictine_ monks in their place.
Strange as this story is, it is to be seen in the archives of this holy
house; and in the street called _Condal_, at _Barcelona_, may be seen in
the wall of the old palace of the Count's, an ancient figure, cut in
stone, which represents the nurse with the child in her arms, and a
strange figure, on his knees, at her feet, and that is Friar _Guerin_.
Now, whether you will believe all this story, or not, I cannot take upon
me to say; but I will assure you, that when you visit this spot, it will
be necessary to _say you do_; or you would appear in their eyes a much
greater wonder than any thing which I have related, of the Devil, the
Friar, the Virgin, and the Count.
LETTER XXI.
The second hermitage, for I give them in the order they are usually
visited, is that of _St. Catharine_, situated in a deep and solitary
vale: it however commands a most extensive and pleasing prospect, at
noon-day, to the East and West. The buildings, garden, &c. are confined
within small limits, being fixed in a most picturesque and secure recess
under the foot of one of the high pines. Though this hermit's habitation
is the most retired and solitary abode of any, and far removed from the
_din_ of men, yet the courteous, affable, and sprightly inhabitant,
seems not to feel the loss of human society, though no man, I think, can
be a greater ornament to human nature. If he is not much accustomed to
hear the voice of men, he is amply recompensed by the notes of birds;
for it is their sanctuary as well as his; for no part of the mountain
is so well inhabited by the feathered race of beings as this delightful
spot. Perhaps indeed, they have sagacity enough to know that there is no
other so perfectly secure. Here the nightingale, the blackbird, the
linnet, and an infinite variety of little songsters greater strangers to
my eyes, than fearful of my hands, dwell in perfect security, and live
in the most friendly intimacy with their holy protector, and obedient to
his call; for, says the hermit,
"Haste here, ye feather'd race of various song,
Bring all your pleasing melody along!
O come, ye tender, faithful, plaintive doves,
Perch on my hands, and sing your absent loves!"--
When instantly the whole _vocal band_ quit their sprays, and surround
the person of their daily benefactor, some settling upon his head,
others entangle their feet in his beard, and in the true sense of the
word, take his bread even out of his mouth; but it is freely given:
their confidence is so great, (for the holy father is their bondsman)
that the stranger too partakes of their familiarity and caresses. These
hermits are not allowed to keep within their walls either dog, cat,
bird, or any living thing, lest their attention should be withdrawn from
heavenly to earthly affections. I am sorry to arraign this good man; he
cannot be said to transgress the law, but he certainly _evades_ it; for
though his feathered band do not live within his walls, they are always
attendant upon his _court_; nor can any prince or princess on earth
boast of heads so _elegantly plumed_, as may be seen at the court of St.
_Catharine_; or of vassals who pay their tributes with half the
chearfulness they are given and received by the humble monarch of this
sequestered vale. If his meals are scanty, his dessert is served up with
a song, and he is hushed to sleep by the nightingale; and when we
consider, that he has but few days in the whole year which are inferior
to some of our best in the months of May and June, you may easily
conceive, that a man who breathes such pure air, who feeds on such light
food, whose blood circulates freely from moderate exercise, and whose
mind is never ruffled by worldly affairs, whose short sleeps are sweet
and refreshing, and who lives confident of finding in death a more
heavenly residence; lives a life to be envied, not pitied.--Turn but
your eyes one minute from this man's situation, to that of any monarch
or minister on earth, and say, on which side does the balance
turn?--While some princes may be embruing their hands in the blood of
their subjects, this man is offering up his prayers to God to preserve
all mankind:--While some ministers are sending forth fleets and armies
to wreak their own private vengeance on a brave and uncorrupted people,
this solitary man is feeding, from his own scanty allowance, the birds
of the air.--Conceive him, in his last hour, upon his straw bed, and see
with what composure and resignation he meets it!--Look in the face of
a dying king, or a plundering, and blood-thirsty minister,--what terrors
the sight of their velvet beds, adorned with crimson plumage, must bring
to their affrighted imagination!--In that awful hour, it will remind
them of the innocent blood they have spilt;--nay, they will perhaps
think, they were dyed with the blood of men scalped and massacred, to
support their vanity and ambition!--In short, dear Sir, while kings and
ministers are torn to pieces by a thirst after power and riches, and
disturbed by a thousand anxious cares, this poor hermit can have but
one, _i.e._ lest he should be removed (as the prior of the convent has a
power to do) to some other cell, for that is sometimes done, and very
properly.
The youngest and most hardy constitutions are generally put into the
higher hermitages, or those to which the access is most difficult; for
the air is so fine, in the highest parts of the mountain, that they say
it often renders the respiration painful. Nothing therefore can be more
reasonable than, that as these good men grow older, and less able to
bear the fatigues and inconveniencies the highest abodes unavoidably
subject them to, should be removed to more convenient dwellings, and
that the younger and stouter men should succeed them.
As the hermits never eat meat, I could not help observing to him, how
fortunate a circumstance it was for the safety of his little feathered
friends; and that there were no boys to disturb their young, nor any
sportsman to kill the parent.--God forbid, said he, that one of them
should fall, but by his hands who gave it life!--Give me your hand, said
I, and bless me!--I believe it did; _but it shortened my visit_:--so I
stept into the _grot_, and _stole_ a pound of chocolate upon his stone
table, and myself away.
If there is a happy man upon this earth, I have seen that extraordinary
man, and here he dwells!--his features, his manners, all his looks and
actions, announce it;--yet he had not even a single _maravedi_ in his
pocket:--money is as useless to him, as to one of his black-birds.
Within a gun-shot of this _remnant_ of _Eden_, are the remains of an
ancient hermitage, called _St. Pedro_. While I was there, my hermit
followed me; but I too _coveted retirement_. I had just bought a fine
fowling-piece at _Barcelona_; and when he came, I was availing myself of
the hallowed spot, to make _my vow_ never to use it. In truth, dear Sir,
there are some sorts of pleasures too powerful for the body to bear, as
well as some sort of pain: and here I was wrecked upon the wheel of
felicity; and could only say, like the poor criminal who suffered at
_Dijon_,--O God! O God! at every _coup_.
I was sorry my host did not understand English, nor I Spanish enough,
to give him the sense of the lines written in poor _Shenstone_'s alcove.
"O you that bathe in courtlye bliss,
"Or toyle in fortune's giddy spheare;
"Do not too rashly deeme amisse
"Of him that hides contented here.
I forgot the other lines; but they conclude thus:
"For faults there beene in busye life
From which these peaceful glennes are free."
LETTER XXII.
I know you will not like to leave _St. Catherine_'s harmonious cell so
soon;--nor should I, but that I intend to visit it again. I will
therefore conduct you to _St. Juan_, about four hundred paces distant
from it, on the east side of which, you look down a most horrid and
frightful precipice,--a precipice, so very tremendous, that I am
persuaded there are many people whose imagination would be so
intoxicated by looking at it, that they might be in danger of throwing
themselves over: I do not know whether you will understand my meaning by
saying so; but I have more than once been so bewildered with such
alarming _coup d'oeil_ on this mountain, that I began to doubt whether
my own powers were sufficient to protect me:--Horses, from sudden
fright, will often run into the fire; and man too, may be forced upon
his own destruction, to avoid those sensations of danger he has not been
accustomed to look upon. Perhaps I am talking non-sense; and you will
attribute what I say to lowness of spirits; on the contrary, I had those
feelings about me only during the time my eyes were employed upon such
frightful objects; for my spirits were enlivened by pure air, exercise,
and temperance:--nay, I remember to have been struck in the same manner,
when the grand explosion of the fireworks was played off, many years
ago, upon the conclusion of peace! The blast was so great, that it
appeared as if it were designed to take with it all earthly things; and
I felt almost forced by it, and summoned from my seat, and could hardly
refrain from jumping over a parapet wall which stood before me. The
building of this hermitage, however, is very secure; nothing can shake
or remove it, but that which must shake or remove the whole mountain. At
this cell, small as it is, King Philip the Third dined on the eleventh
of July 1599;--a circumstance, you may be sure, the inhabitant will
never forget, or omit to mention. It commands at noon-day a fine
prospect eastward, and is approached by a good stage of steps. Not far
from it, on the road side, is a little chapel called St. Michael, a
chapel as ancient as the monastery itself; and a little below is the
grotto, in which the image of the Virgin, now fixed in the high altar of
the church, was found. The entrance of this grotto is converted into a
chapel, where mass is said every day by one of the monks. All the
hermitages, even the smallest, have their little chapel, the ornaments
for saying mass, their water cistern, and most of them a little garden.
The building consists of one or two little chambers, a little refectory,
and a kitchen; but many of them have every convenience within and
without that a single man can wish or desire, except he should wish for
or desire _such things_ as he was obliged to renounce when he took
possession of it.
From hence, by a road more wonderful than safe or pleasing, you are led
on a ridge of mountains to the lofty cell of _St. Onofre_. It stands in
a cleft in one of the pine heads, six and thirty feet (I was going to
say) above the earth; its appearance is indeed astonishing, for it seems
in a manner hanging in the air; the access to it is by a ladder of sixty
steps, extremely difficult to ascend, and even then you have a wooden
bridge to cross, fixed from rock to rock, under which is an aperture of
so terrifying an appearance, that I still think a person, not over
timid, may find it very difficult to pass over, if he looks under,
without losing in some degree that firmness which is necessary to his
own preservation. The best and safest way is, to look forward at the
building or object you are going to.--Fighting, and even courage, is
mechanical; a man may be taught it as readily as any other science; and
I would _pit_ the little timid hermit of _St. Onofre_ to a march, on
the margin of the precipices on this mountain, against the bravest
general we have in America. The man that would not wince at the whistle
of a cannon-ball over his head, may find his blood retire, and his
senses bewildered, at a dreadful precipice under his feet. _St. Onofre_
possesses no more space than what is covered in by the tiling, nor any
prospect but to the South. The inhabitant of it says, he often sees the
islands of _Minorca_, _Mallorca_, and _Ivica_, and the kingdoms of
_Valencia_ and _Murcia_. The weather was extremely fine when I visited
it, but there was a distant haziness which prevented my seeing those
islands; indeed, my eyes were better employed and entertained in
examining objects more interesting, as well as more pleasing. Going from
this hermitage, you have a view of the vale of _St. Mary_, formerly
called la _Vallee Amere_, through which the river _Lobregate_ runs, and
which divides the bishoprick of Barcelona from that of _De Vic_.
Lest you should think I am rather too tremendously descriptive of this
_upland_ journey, hear what a French traveller says, who visited this
mountain about twenty years ago. After examining every thing curious at
the convent, he says, "_Il ne me restoit plus rien a voir que
l'hermitage qui est renomme, il est dans la partie la plus elevee de la
montagne, & partage en treize habitations, pour autant d'hermites. Le
plaisir de le voir devoit me dedommager de la peine qu'il me falloit
prendre pour y monter, en grimpant pendant plus de heux heures. J'aurois
pre me servir de ma mule, mais il m'auroit fallu prendre un chemin ou
j'aurois mis le double du tems. Je m'armai donc de courage, & entre dans
une enceinte par une porte que l'on m'ouvrit avec peine au dehors du
monastere, je commencai a monter par des degres qui sembloient
perpendiculaires, tant ils etoient roides; & je fus oblige de
m'agraffer a des barres qui y font placees expres: ensuite, je me
trainai par-dessous de grosses pierres, qui sont comme des voutes
ruinees, dont les ouvertures sont le seul passage qu'il y ait pour
quiconque a la temerite de s'engager dans ces defiles; apres avoir
grimpe, environ mille pas, je trouvai un petit terrein uni ou je me
laissai tomber tout etendu afin de reprendre ma respiration qui
commencoit a me manquer_." And yet this was only the Frenchman's first
stage on his way to the first and nearest hermitage; and who I find
clambered up the very road we did, rather than take the longer route on
mule-back; and, for aught I know, a route still more dangerous, for
there are many places where the precipice is perpendicular on both sides
of a ridge, and where the road is too narrow even to turn the mule; so
he that sets out, must proceed.
After ascending a ladder fixed in the same pine where _St. Onofre_ is
situated, at an hundred and fifty paces distant, is the fifth hermitage
of the penitent _Madalena_; it stands between two lofty pines, and on
some elevated rocks, and commands a beautiful view, towards noon-day, to
the East and West; and near to it, in a more elevated pine, stands its
chapel, from whence you look down (dreadful to behold) a rugged
precipice and steep hills, upon the convent at two miles distance where
are two roads, or rather passages, to this cell, both exceedingly
difficult; by one you mount up a ladder of at least an hundred steps;
the other is of stone steps, and pieces of timber to hold by; that the
hermit who dwells there says, the whistling of the wind in tempestuous
nights sounds like the roaring of baited bulls.
LETTER XXIII.
I must now lead you up to the highest part of the mountain; it is a long
way up, not less than three thousand five hundred paces from _St.
Madalena_, and over a very rugged and disagreeable road for the feet,
which leads, however, to the cell of _St. Geronimo_; from the two
turrets of which, an immense scene is opened, too much for the head of a
_low-lander_ to bear; for it not only takes in a view of a great part of
the mountain beneath, but of the kingdoms of _Arragon_, _Valencia_, the
Mediterranean Sea, and the islands; but as it were, one half of the
earth's orbit. The fatigue to clamber up to it is very great; but the
recompense is ample. This hermitage looks down upon a wood above a
league in circumference, in which formerly some hermits dwelt; but at
present it is stocked with cattle belonging to the convent, who have a
fountain of good water therein. Near this hermitage, in a place they
call _Poza_, the snow is preserved for the use of the _Religieux_. The
inhabitant either was not within, or would not be disturbed; so that
after feasting my eyes on all sides, my conductor led me on eastward to
the seventh hermitage, called _St. Antonio_, the father of the
Anchorites; it stands under one of the highest PINES, and the access to
it is so difficult and dangerous, that very few strangers visit it;--a
circumstance which whetted my curiosity; so, like the boy after a
bird's-nest, I _risqued it_, especially as I was pretty sure I should
_take the old bird sitting_. This hermit had formerly been in the
service; and though he had made great intercession to the Holy Virgin
and saints in heaven, as well as much interest with men on earth, he was
not, I think, quite happy in his exalted station; his turret is so
small, that it will not contain above two men; the view from it, to the
East and North, is very fine; but it looks down a most horrible and
dreadful precipice, above one hundred and eighty toises perpendicular,
and upon the river _Lobregate_. No man, but he whom custom has made
familiar to such a tremendous _eye-ball_, can behold this place but with
horror and amazement; and I was as glad to leave it, as I was pleased to
have seen it. At about a gun-shot distance from it rises the highest
pine-head of the mountain, called _Caval Hernot_, which is eighty toises
higher than any other _cone_, and three thousand three hundred paces
from the convent below. Keeping under the side of the same hill, and
along the base of the same pine-head, you are led to the hermitage of
_St. Salvador_, eight hundred paces from _St. Antonio_, which hermitage
has two chapels, one of which is hewn out of the heart of the PINE, and
consequently has a natural as well as a beautiful cupola; the access to
this cell is very difficult, for the crags project so much, that it is
necessary to clamber over them on all-four; the prospects are very fine
to the southward and eastward. The inhabitant was from home; but as
there was no fastening to his doors, I examined all his worldly goods,
and found that most of them were the work of his own ingenious hands. A
little distant from hence stands a wooden cross, at which the road
divides; one path leads to _St. Benito_, the other to the _Holy_
Trinity. By the archives of the convent, it appears, that in the year
1272, _Francis Bertrando_ died at the hermitage of _St. Salvador_, after
having spent forty-five years in it, admired for his sanctity and holy
life, and that he was succeeded therein by _François Durando Mayol_, who
dwelt in it twenty-seven years.
Descending from hence about six or seven hundred paces, you arrive at
the ninth hermitage, _St. Benito_; the situation is very pleasing, the
access easy, and the prospects divine. It was founded by an _Abbot_,
whose intentions were, that it should contain within a small distance,
four other cells, in memory of the five wounds made in the body of
Christ. This hermit has the privilege of making an annual entertainment
on a certain day, on which day all the other hermits meet there, and
receive the sacrament from the hands of the mountain vicar; and after
divine service, dine together. They meet also at this hermitage on the
day of each titular saint, to say mass, and commune with each other.
LETTER XXIV.
I cannot say a word to you on any other subject, till you have taken a
turn with me in the shrubberies and gardens of the glorious (so they
call it) hermitage of _St. Ana_. Coming from _St. Benito_, by a brook
which runs down the middle of the mountain, six hundred paces distant
from it, stands _St. Ana_, in a spacious situation, and much larger than
any other, and is nearly in the center of them all. The chapel here is
sufficiently large for the whole society to meet in, and accordingly
they do so on certain festivals and holidays, where they confess to
their mountain vicar, and receive the sacrament, This habitation is
nobly adorned with large trees; the ever-green oak, the cork, the
cypress, the spreading fig-tree, and a variety of others; yet it is
nevertheless dreadfully exposed to the fury of some particular winds;
and the buildings are sometimes greatly damaged, and the life of the
inhabitant endangered, by the boughs which are torn off and blown about
his dwelling. The foot-road from it to the monastery is only one
thousand three hundred paces, but it is very rugged and unsafe; the
mule-road is above four times as far: it was built in 1498, and is the
hermitage where all the pilgrims pay their ordinary devotion.
Eight hundred and fifty paces distant, on the road which leads to the
hermitage of _St. Salvador_, stands, in a solitary and deep wood, the
hermitage of the _Holy Trinity_. Every part of the building is neat, and
the simplicity of the whole prepares you to expect the same simplicity
of manners from the man who dwells within it: and a venerable man he is;
but he seemed more disposed to converse with his neighbours, _Messrs.
Nature_, than with us. His trees, he knows, never flatter or affront
him; and after welcoming us more by his humble looks than civil words,
he retired to his long and shady walk; a walk, a full gun-shot in
length, and nothing in nature certainly can be more beautiful; it forms
a close arbour, though composed of large trees, and terminates in a view
of a vast range of pines, which are so regularly placed side by side,
and which, by the reflection of the sun on their yellow and well
burnished sides, have the appearance of the pipes of an organ a mile in
circumference. The Spaniards say that the mountain is a block of coarse
jasper, and these _organ pipes_, it must be confessed, seem to confirm
it; for they are so well polished by the hand of time, that were it not
too great a work for man, one would be apt to believe they had been cut
by an artist.
Five hundred and sixty paces from the hermitage of the Holy Trinity,
stands _St. Cruz_; it is built under the foot of one of the smaller
pines; this is the nearest cell of any to the convent, and consequently
oftenest visited, being only six hundred and sixty steps from the bottom
of the mountain.
LETTER XXV.
I am now come to _St. Dimas_, the last, and most important, if not the
most beautiful of all the hermits' habitations. This hermitage is
surrounded on all sides by steep and dreadful precipices, some of which
lead the eyes straight down, even to the river _Lobregate_; it can be
entered only on the east side by a draw-bridge, which, when lifted up,
renders any access to it almost impossible. This hermitage was formerly
a strong castle, and possessed by a _banditti_, who frequently plundered
and ravaged the country in the day-time, and secured themselves from
punishment, by retiring to this fast hold by night. As it stands, or
rather hangs over the buildings and convent below, they would frequently
lower baskets by cords, and demand provisions, wine, or whatever
necessaries or luxuries the convent afforded; and if their demands were
not instantly complied with, they tumbled down rocks of an immense size,
which frequently damaged the buildings, and killed the people beneath:
indeed, it was always in their power to destroy the whole building, and
suffer none to live there; but that would have been depriving themselves
of one safe means of subsistence:--at length the monks, by the
assistance of good glasses, and a constant attention to the motion of
their troublesome _boarders_, having observed that the greater part were
gone out upon the _marauding_ party, persuaded seven or eight stout
farmers to believe, that heaven would reward them if they could scale
the horrid precipices, and by surprise seize the castle, and secure the
few who remained in it;--and these brave men accordingly got into it
unobserved, killed one of the men, and secured the others for a public
example. The castle was then demolished, and a hermitage called _St.
Dimas_, or the Good Thief, built upon the spot. The views from it are
very extensive and noble to the south and eastward.
And now, Sir, having conducted you to make a short visit to each of
these wonderful, though little abodes, I must assure you, that a man
well versed in _author craft_ might write thirteen little volumes upon
subjects so very singular. But as no written account can give a perfect
idea of the particular beauties of any mountain, and more especially of
one so unlike all others, I shall quit nature, and conduct you to the
works of art, and treasures of value, which are within the walls of the
holy sanctuary below; only observing, what I omitted to mention, that
the great rains which have fallen since the creation of all things, down
the sides of this steep mount, have made round the whole base a
prodigious wide and deep trench, which has the appearance of a vast
river course drained of its water. In this deep trench lie an infinite
number of huge blocks of the mountain, which have from age to age caved
down from its side, and which renders the _tout au tour_ of the mountain
below full as extraordinary as the pointed pinnacles above: beside this,
there are many little recesses on the sides of the hill below, so
adorned by stately trees and natural fountains, that I know not which
part of the enchanted spot is most beautiful. I found in one of these
places a little garden, fenced in by the fallen rocks, a spring of so
clear and cool a water, and the whole so shaded by, oaks, so warmed by
the sun, and so superlatively romantic, that I was determined to find
out the owner of it, and have set about building a house or a hut to the
garden, and to have made it my abode; but, alas! upon enquiry, I found
the well was a holy one, and that the water, the purest and finest I
ever saw or tasted could only be used for holy purposes. And here let me
observe, that the generality of strangers who visit this mountain, come
prepared only to stay one day;--but it is not a day, nor a week, that
is sufficient to see half the smaller beauties which a mountain, so
great and wonderful of itself, affords on all sides, from the highest
pinacle above, to the foundation stones beneath.
But I should have told you, that there are other roads to some of the
hermitages above, which, by twisting and turning from side to side, are
every week clambered up by a blind mule, who, being loaded with thirteen
baskets containing the provision for the hermits, goes up without any
conductor, and taking the hermitages in their proper order, goes as near
as he can to each, and waits till the hermit has taken his portion; and
proceeds till he has discharged his load, and his trust, and then
returns to his stable below. I did not see this animal on the road, but
I saw some of his _offerings there_, and you may rely upon the truth of
what I tell you.
Before I quit the hermits, however, I must tell you, that the hardships
and fatigues which some of them voluntarily inflict upon themselves, are
almost incredible: they cannot, like the monks in _Russia_, sit in water
to their chins till they are froze up, but they undergo some penances
almost as severe.
LETTER XXVI.
_Pere Pascal_ having invited me to high mass, and to hear a Spanish
sermon preached by one of their best orators, we attended; and though I
did not understand the language sufficiently to know all I heard, I
understood enough to be entertained, if not edified. The decency of the
whole congregation too, was truly characteristic of their profession.
There sat just before us a number of lay-brothers, bare-headed, with
their eyes fixed the whole time upon the ground; and tho' they knew we
were strangers, and probably as singular in their eyes as they could be
in ours, I never perceived one of them, either at or after the service
was over, to look, or even glance an eye at us. The chapel, or church of
this convent, is a very noble building; and high over the great altar is
fixed the image of the Virgin, which was found eight hundred years ago
in a deep cave on the side of the mountain: they say the figure is the
work of St. Luke; if that be true, St. Luke was a better carver than a
painter, for this figure is the work of no contemptible artist; it is of
wood, and of a dark-brown it is of wood, and of a dark-brown or rather
black colour, about the size of a girl of twelve years of age; her
garments are very costly, and she had on a crown richly adorned with
_real_ jewels of great value; and I believe, except our Lady of
_Loretto_, the paraphernalia of her person is superior to all the saints
or crowned heads in Europe. She holds on her knees a little Jesus, of
the same complexion, and the work of the same artist. The high altar is
a most magnificent and costly structure, and there constantly burn
before it upwards of fourscore large silver lamps. The balustrades
before the altar were given by King Philip the Third, and cost seven
thousand crowns; and it cost fourteen thousand more to cut away the rock
to lay the foundation of this new church, the old one being so small,
and often so crowded by pilgrims and strangers, that many of the monks
lost their lives in it every year. The whole expence of building the new
one, exclusive of the inward ornaments, is computed at a million of
crowns; and the seats of the choir, six and thirty thousand livres. The
old church has nothing very remarkable in it but some good ancient
monuments, one of which is of _Bernard Villomarin_, Admiral of Naples; a
man (as the inscription says) illustrious in peace and war. There is
another of _Don John d'Arragon, Dux Lunæ_, who died in 1528; he was
nephew to King Ferdinand. But the most singular inscription in this old
church is one engraven on a pillar, under which _St. Ignatius_ spent a
whole night in prayer before he took the resolution of renouncing the
world, which was in the year 1522.
After mass was over, we were shewn into a chamber behind the high altar,
where a door opened to the recess, in which the Virgin is placed, and
where we were permitted, or rather required to kiss her hand. At the
same time, I perceived a great many pilgrims entering the apartments,
whose penitential faces plainly discovered the reverence and devotion
with which they approached her sacred presence. When we returned, we
were presented to the Prior; a lively, genteel man, of good address;
who, with _Pere Tendre_, the Frenchman, shewed us an infinite quantity
of jewels, vessels of gold and silver, garments, &c. which have been
presented by Kings, Queens, and Emperors, to the convent, for the
purpose of arraying this miraculous image. I begin to suspect that you
will think I am become half a Catholic;--indeed, I begin to think so
myself; and if ever I publicly renounce that faith which I now hold, it
shall be done in a pilgrimage to _Montserrat_; for I do not see why God,
who delights so much in variety, as all his mighty works testify; who
has not made two green leaves of the same tint,--may not, nay, ought
not to be worshipped by men of different nations, in variety of forms. I
see no absurdity in a set of men meeting as the Quakers do, and sitting
in silent contemplation, reflecting on the errors of their past life,
and resolving to amend in future. I think an honest, good Quaker, as
respectable a being as an Archbishop; and a monk, or a hermit, who think
they merit heaven by the sacrifice they make for it, will certainly
obtain it: and as I am persuaded the men of this society think so, I
highly honour and respect them: I am sure I feel myself much obliged to
them. They have a good library, but it is in great disorder; nor do I
believe they are men of much reading; indeed, they are so employed in
confessing the pilgrims and poor, that they cannot have much time for
study.
I forgot to tell you, that at _Narbonne_ I had been accosted by a young
genteel couple, a male and female, who were upon a _pilgrimage_; they
were dressed rather neat than fine, and their garments were adorned with
cockle and other marine shells; such, indeed, all the poorer sort of
pilgrims are characterised with. They presented a tin box to me, with
much address, but said nothing, nor did I give them any thing; indeed, I
did not _then_ know, very well, for what purpose or use the charity they
claimed was to be applied. This young couple were among the strangers
who were now approaching the sacred image. I was very desirous of
knowing their story, who they were, and what sins people so young, and
who looked so good, had been guilty of, to think it necessary to come so
far for absolution. _Their sins on the road_, I could be at no loss to
guess at; and as they were such as people who love one another are very
apt to commit, I hope and believe, they will obtain forgiveness of
them.--They were either people of some condition, or very accomplished
_Chevaliers d'Industrie_; though I am most inclined to believe, they
were _brother and sister_, of some condition.
After visiting the Holy Virgin, I paid my respects to the several monks
in their own apartments, under the conduct of _Pere Pascal_, and was
greatly entertained.--I found them excellently lodged; their apartments
had no finery, but every useful convenience; and several good
harpsichords, as well as good performers, beside an excellent organist.
The Prior, in particular, has so much address, of the polite world about
him, that he must have lived in it before he made a vow to retire from
it.
I never saw a more striking instance of national influence than in the
person of _Pere Tendre_, the Frenchman!--In spite of his holy life, and
living among Spaniards of the utmost gravity of manners, I could have
known him at first sight to have been a Frenchman. I never saw, even
upon the _Boulevards_ at Paris, a more lively, animated, or chearful
face.
Indeed, one must believe, that these men are as good as they appear to
be; for they have reason enough to believe, that every hour may be their
last, as there hangs over their whole building such a terrifying mass of
rock and pine heads, so split and divided, that it is difficult to
perceive by what powers they are sustained: many have given way, and
have no other support than the base they have made by slipping in part
down, among the smaller rocks and broken fragments. About an hundred
years ago, one vast block fell from above, and buried under it the
hospital, and all the sick and their attendants; and where it still
remains, a dreadful monument, and memento, to all who dwell near it!--I
should fear (God avert the day!) that the smallest degree of an
earthquake would bury all the convent, monks, and treasure, by one fatal
_coup_.
LETTER XXVII.
Before I bring forth the treasures of this hospitable convent, and the
jewels of _Neustra Senora_, it may be necessary to tell you, that they
could not be so liberal, were not others liberal to them; and that they
have permission to ask charity from every church, city, and town, in the
kingdoms of France and Spain, and have always lay-brothers out,
gathering money and other donations. They who feed all who come, must,
of course, be fed themselves; nor has any religious house in Europe
(_Loretto_ excepted) been more highly honoured by Emperors, Kings,
Popes, and Prelates, than this: nay, they have seemed to vie with each
other, in bestowing rich and costly garments, jewels of immense value,
and gold and silver of exquisite workmanship, to adorn the person of
_Neustra Senora_; as the following list, though not a quarter of her
_paraphernalia_, will evince: but before I particularize them, it may be
proper to mention, the solemn manner in which the Virgin was moved from
the old to the new church, by the hands of King Philip the Third, who
repaired thither for that purpose privately as possible, to prevent the
prodigious concourse of people who would have attended him had it been
generally known. He staid at the convent four days, in which time he
visited all the hermitages above, in one; but returned, greatly
fatigued, and not till ten o'clock at night. After resting himself the
next day, he heard mass, and being confessed, assisted at the solemnity
of translating the Virgin, in the following manner:--After all the
monks, hermits, and lay-brothers had heard mass, and been confessed, the
Virgin was brought down and placed upon the altar in the old church, and
with great ceremony, reverence, and awe, they cloathed her in a rich
gold mantle, the gift of the Duke of _Branzvick_, the sleeves of which
were so costly, that they were valued at eighteen thousand ducats. The
Abbots, Monks, hermits, &c. who were present, wore cloaks of rich gold
brocade, and in the procession sung the hymn _Te Deum Laudamus_; one of
whom bore a gold cross, of exquisite workmanship, which weighed fifty
marks, and which was set with costly jewels. The procession consisted of
forty-three lay-brothers, fifteen hermits, and sixty-two monks, all
bearing wax-tapers; then followed the young scholars, and a band of
music, as well as an infinite number of people who came from all parts
of the kingdom to attend the solemnity; for it was impossible to keep an
act of so extraordinary a nature very private. When the Virgin was
brought into the new church, she was placed on a tabernacle by four of
the most ancient monks; the King held also a large lighted taper, on
which his banner and arms were emblazoned, and being followed by the
nobles and cavaliers of his court, joined in the procession; and having
placed themselves in proper order in the great cloyster of the church,
the monks sung a hymn, addressed to the Virgin, accompanied by a noble
band of music: this being over, the King taking the Virgin in his arms,
placed her on the great altar; and having so done, took his wax taper,
and falling on his knees at her feet, offered up his prayers near a
quarter of an hour: this ceremony being over, the monks advanced to the
altar, and moved the Virgin into a recess in the middle of it, where she
now stands: after which, the Abbot, having given his pontifical
benediction, the King retired to repose himself for a quarter of an
hour, and then set off for _Martorell_, where he slept, and the next day
made his entry into _Barcelona_.
Among an infinite number of costly materials which adorn this beautiful
church, is a most noble organ, which has near twelve hundred pipes. In
the _Custodium_ you are shewn three crowns for the head of the Infant
Jesus, two of which are of pure gold, the third of silver, gilt, and
richly adorned with diamonds; one of the gold crowns is set with two
hundred and thirty emeralds, and nineteen large brilliants; the other
has two hundred and thirty-eight diamonds, an hundred and thirty pearls,
and sixteen rubies; it cost eighteen thousand ducats.
There are four crowns also for the head of the Virgin; two of plated
gold, richly set with diamonds, two of solid gold; one of which has two
thousand five hundred large emeralds in it, and is valued at fifty
thousand ducats; the fourth, and richest, is set with one thousand one
hundred and twenty-four diamonds, five of which number are valued at
five hundred ducats each; eighteen hundred large pearls, of equal size;
thirty-eight large emeralds, twenty-one zaphirs, and five rubies; and at
the top of this crown is a gold ship, adorned with diamonds of eighteen
thousand dollars value. The gold alone of these crowns weighs
twenty-five pounds, and, with the jewels and setting, upwards of fifty.
These crowns have been made at _Montserrat_, from the gold and separate
jewels presented to the convent from time to time by the crowned heads
and princes of Europe. There is also another small crown, given by the
Marquis de _Aytona_, set with sixty-six brilliants.
The Infanta gave four silver candlesticks, which cost two thousand four
hundred ducats.
Ann of Austria, daughter to Philip the third, gave a garment for the
Virgin, which cost a thousand ducats.
There are thirty chalices of gilt plate, and one of solid gold, which
cost five thousand ducats.
Prince Charles of Austria, with his consort Christiana of Brunswick,
visited _Montserrat_ in the year 1706, and having kissed the Virgin's
hand, left at her feet his gold-hilted sword, set with seventy-nine
large brilliants. This sword was given the Emperor by Anne, Queen of
England.
In the church are six silver candlesticks, nine palms high, made to hold
wax flambeaux. There are diamonds and jewels, given by the Countess de
Aranda, Count Alba, Duchess of Medina, and forty other people of high
rank, from the different courts of Europe, to the value of more than an
hundred thousand ducats.--But were I to recite every particular from the
list of donations, which my friend, _Pere Pascal_, gave me, and which
now lies before me, with the names of the donors, they would fill a
volume instead of a letter.
LETTER XXVIII.
I know you will expect to hear something of the Ladies of Spain; but I
must confess I had very little acquaintance among them: when they appear
abroad in their coaches, they are dressed in the modern French fashion,
but not in the extreme; when they walk out, their head and shape is
always covered with a black or white veil, richly laced; and however
fine their gowns are, they must be covered with a very large black silk
petticoat; and thus holding the fan in one hand, and hanging their
_chapelets_ over the wrist of the other, they walk out, preceded by one
or two shabby-looking servants, called pages, who wear swords, and
always walk bare-headed.
I have already told you, that the most beautiful, indeed the only
beautiful woman, I saw at _Barcelona_, was the Intendant's daughter;
and I assure you, her, black petticoat and white veil could not conceal
it; nor, indeed, is the dress an unbecoming one. Among the peasants, and
common females, you never see any thing like beauty, and, in general,
rather deformity of feature. No wonder then, where beauty is scarce, and
to be found only among women of condition, that those women are much
admired, and that they gain prodigious influence over the men.--In no
part of the world, therefore, are women more caressed and attended to,
than in Spain. Their deportment in public is grave and modest; yet they
are very much addicted to pleasure; nor is there scarce one among them
that cannot, nay, that will not dance the _Fandango_ in private, either
in the decent or indecent manner. I have seen it danced both ways, by a
pretty woman, than which nothing can be more _immodestly agreeable_; and
I was shewn a young Lady at _Barcelona_, who in the midst of this dance
ran out of the room, telling her partner, she could _stand it_ no
longer;--he ran after her, to be sure, and must be answerable for the
consequences. I find in the music of the _Fandango_, written under one
bar, _Salida_, which signifies _going out_; it is where the woman is to
part a little from her partner, and to move slowly by herself; and I
suppose it was at _that bar_ the lady was so overcome, as to determine
not to return. The words _Perra Salida_ should therefore be placed at
that bar, when the ladies dance it in the high _gout_.
The men dress as they do in France and England, except only their long
cloak, which they do not care to give up. It is said that Frenchmen are
wiser than, from the levity of their behaviour, they seem to be; and I
fancy the Spaniards look wiser from their gravity of countenance, than
they really are; they are extremely reserved; and make no professions of
friendship till they feel it, and know the man, and then they are
friendly in the highest degree.
I met with a German merchant at _Barcelona_, who told me he had dealt
for goods to the value of five thousand pounds a year with a Spaniard in
that town; and though he had been often at _Barcelona_ before, that he
had never invited him to dine or eat with him, till that day.
The farrier who comes to shoe your horse has sometimes a sword by his
side; and the barber who shaves you crosses himself before he _crosses
your chin_.
There is a particular part of the town where the ladies of easy virtue
live; and if a friend calls at the apartment of one of those females,
who happens to _be engaged_, one of her neighbours tells you, she is
_amancebados y casarse a mediacarta_; _i.e._ that she is
half-married.--If you meet a Spanish woman of any fashion, walking
alone without the town, you may join her, and enter into whatever _sort
of conversation_ you chuse, without offence; and if you pass one without
doing so, she will call you _ajacaos_, and contemn you: this is a custom
so established at Madrid, that if a footman meets a lady of quality
alone, he will enter into some indecent conversation with her; for which
reason, the ladies seldom walk but with their husbands, or a male friend
by their side, and a foot-boy before, and then no man durst speak, or
even look towards them, but with respect and awe:--a blow in Spain can
never be forgiven; the striker must die, either _privately_ or publicly.
No people on earth are less given to excess in eating or drinking, than
the Spaniards; the _Olio_, or _Olla_, a kind of soup and _Bouilli_, is
all that is to be found at the table of some great men: the table of a
_Bourgeois_ of Paris is better served than many _grandees_ of Spain;
their chocolate, lemonade, iced water, fruits, &c. are their chief
luxuries; and the chocolate is, in some houses, a prodigious annual
expense, as it is offered to every body who comes in, and some of the
first houses in Madrid expend twenty thousand _livres_ a year in
chocolate, iced waters, &c. The grandees of Spain think it beneath their
dignity to look into accounts, and therefore leave the management of
their household expenses to servants, who often plunder and defraud them
of great sums of money.
Unlike the French, the Spaniards (like the English) very properly look
upon able physicians and surgeons in a very respectable light:--Is it
not strange, that the French nation should trust their health and lives
in the hands of men, they are apt to think unworthy of their intimacy or
friendship?--Men, who must have had a liberal education, and who ought
not to be trusted in sickness, if their society was not to be coveted in
health. Perhaps the Spanish physicians, who of all others have the
least pretensions, are the most caressed. In fevers they encourage their
patients to eat, thinking it necessary, where the air is so subtile, to
put something into the body for the distemper to feed upon; they bleed
often, and in both arms, that the blood may be drawn forth _equally_;
the surgeons do not bleed, but a set of men called _sangerros_ perform
that office, and no other; the surgeons consider it dishonourable to
perform that operation. They seldom trepan; a surgeon who attempted to
perform it, would himself be perhaps in want of it. To all flesh wounds
they apply a powder called _coloradilla_, which certainly effects the
cure; it is made of myrrh, mastic, dragon's blood, bol ammoniac,
&c.--When persons of fashion are bled, their friends send them, as soon
as it is known, little presents to amuse them all that day; for which
reason, the women of easy virtue are often bled, that their lovers may
shew their attention, and be _bled too_.--The French disease is so
ignorantly treated, or so little regarded, that it is very general; they
consider a _gonorrhoea_ as health to the reins; and except a tertian
ague, all disorders are called the _calentura_, and treated alike, and I
fear very injudiciously; for there is not, I am told, in the whole
kingdom, any public academy for the instruction of young men, in physic,
surgery, or anatomy, except at Madrid.
Notwithstanding the sobriety, temperance, and fine climate of Spain, the
Spaniards do not, in general, live to any great age; they put a
prodigious quantity of spice into every thing they eat; and though
sobriety and temperance are very commendable, there are countries where
eating and drinking are carried to a great excess, by men much more
virtuous than those, where temperance, perhaps, is their principal
virtue.
LETTER XXIX.
I forgot to tell you that, though I left the Convent, I had no desire to
leave the spot where I had met with so cordial a reception; nor a
mountain, every part of which afforded so many scenes of wonder and
delight. I therefore hired two rooms at a wretched _posada_, near the
two ancient towers below, and where I had left my horse, that I might
make my daily excursions on and about the mountain, as well as visit
those little solitary habitations above once more. My host, his wife,
and their son and daughter, looked rather cool upon us; they liked our
money better than our company; and though I made their young child some
little presents, it scarce afforded any return, but prevented rudeness,
perhaps. The boys of the village, though I distributed a little money
every day to the poor, frequently pelted me with stones, when they
gained the high ground of me; and I found it necessary, when I walked
out, to take my fuzee. I would have made a friend of the priest, if I
could have found him, but he never appeared!--It was a poor village, and
you may easily conceive our residence in such a little place, where no
stranger ever staid above an hour, occasioned much speculation. My
servant too (a French deserter) had neither the politeness nor the
address so common to his countrymen; but I knew I was _within a few
hours_ of honest _Pere Pascal_; and while the hog, mule, and ass of my
host continued well, I flattered myself I was not in much danger; had
either of those animals been ill, I should have taken my leave; for if a
suspicion had arose that an heretic was under their roof, they would
have been at no loss to account for the cause or the calamity which had,
or might befall them.--During my residence at this little _posada_, I
saw a gaudy-dressed, little, ugly old man, and a handsome young woman,
approach it; the man smiled in my face, which was the only smile I had
seen in the face of a stranger for a fortnight; he told me, what he need
not, that he was a Frenchman, and a noble Advocate of _Perpignan_; that
his name was _Anglois_, and that his ancestors were English; that he had
walked on foot, with his maid, from _Barcelona_, in order to pay his
devotions to the Holy Virgin of _Montserrat_, though he had his own
chaise and mules at _Barcelona_: he seemed much fatigued, so I gave him
some chocolate, for he was determined, he said, to get up to the convent
that night. During this interview, he embraced me several times,
professed a most affectionate regard for me and my whole family; and I
felt enough for him, to desire he would fix the day of his return, that
I might not be out upon my rambles, and that he would dine and spend the
evening with me; in which case, I would send him back to _Barcelona_ in
my _cabriolet_; all which he chearfully consented to; and having lent
him my _couteau de chasse_, as a more convenient weapon on ass-back than
his fine sword, we parted, reluctantly, for five days; that was the time
this _noble Advocate_ had allotted for making his peace with the Holy
Virgin;--I say, his peace with the Holy Virgin; for he was very
desirous of leaving _his_ virgin with us, as she was an excellent cook,
and a most faithful and trusty servant, both which he perceived we
wanted; yet in spite of his encomiums, there was nothing in the
behaviour of the girl that corresponded with such an amiable character:
she had, indeed a beautiful face, but strongly marked with something,
more like impudence than boldness, and more of that of a pragmatic
mistress than an humble servant; and therefore we did not accept, what I
was very certain, she would not have performed. I impatiently, however,
waited their return, and verily believed the old man had bought his
crimson velvet breeches and gold-laced waistcoat in honour of the
Virgin, and that his visit to her was a pious one.--He returned to his
time, and to a sad dinner indeed! but it was the best we could provide.
He had lost so much of that vivacity he went up with, that I began to
fear I had lost his friendship, or he the benediction of the Holy
Virgin. Indeed, I had lost it in some measure, but it was transferred
but a little way off; for he took the first favourable occasion to tell
my wife, no woman had ever before made so forcible an impression upon
him, and said a thousand other fine things, which I cannot repeat,
without losing the esteem I still have for my countryman; especially as
he did not propose staying only _one night_ with us, nay, that he would
depart the next morning _de bon matin_. During the evening, all his
former spirits returned, as well as his affection for me: he told me, he
suspected I wanted money, and if that was the case, those wants should
be removed; so taking out a large parcel of gold _duras_, he offered
them, and I am persuaded too, he would have lent or given them to me. I
arose early, to see that my man and chaise were got in good order, to
conduct so good a friend to _Barcelona_; but not hearing any thing of
_Monsieur Anglois_, I directed my servant to go into his chamber, to
enquire how he did;--my man returned, and said, that _Madame_ was awake,
but that _Monsieur_ still sleeps. Madame! what Madame? said I!--Is it
the young woman who came with him? I then found, what I had a little
suspected, that the mountain virgin was not the _only_ virgin to whom
_Monsieur Anglois_ made his vows. He soon after, however, came down,
drank chocolate with us, and making a thousand professions of inviolable
regard, he set off in my chaise for _Barcelona_; but I should have told
you, not till he had made me promise to visit him at _Perpignan_, where
he had not only a town, but country house, at my service.--All these
professions were made with so much openness, and seeming sincerity,
that I could not, nor did doubt it; and as I was determined then to
leave that unhospitable country, and return to France, I gave him my
_passa-porte_, to get it _refreshed_ by the Captain-General at
_Barcelona_, that I might return, and pass _by_ the walls only of a town
I can never think of but with some degree of pain, and should with
horror, but that I now know there is one man lives in it, and did
then,[D] who has lamented that he had not an opportunity to shew me
those acts of hospitality his nature and his situation often give him
occasion to exercise; but the _etiquette_ is, for the stranger to visit
first; and I found but little encouragement to visit a German Gentleman,
though married to an English Lady, after the hostile manners I had
experienced from my _friends_ and _countrymen_, Messrs. _Curtoys_,
_Wombwell_, &c.
[D] Mr. THALDITZER.
LETTER XXX.
In the archives of _Montserrat_ they shew you a letter written to the
Abbe by King Philip the second, who begins, "venerable and devout
_Religieux_," and tells him, he approves of his zeal, of his building a
new church at _Montserrat_, charges him to continue his prayers for him,
and, to shew his zeal for that holy house, informs him, that the bearer
of his letter is _Etienne Jordan_, the most famous sculptor then in
Spain, who is to make the new altar-piece at the King's expence, and
they agreed to pay _Jordan_ ten thousand crowns for the design he laid
before them: the altar was made at _Valladolid_, and was brought to
_Montserrat_ on sixty-six waggons; and as Jordan did much more to the
work than he had engaged to perform, the King gave him four thousand
crowns over and above his agreement, and afterwards gave nine thousand
crowns more, to gild and add further ornaments to it.
At the death of Philip the Second, his son, Philip, the Third, assisted
in person to remove the image of the Virgin from the old to the new
church; which I shall hereafter mention more fully. Before this noble
altar, in which the figure of the Virgin stands in a nitch about the
middle of it, are candlesticks of solid silver, each of which weighs
eighty pounds; they are a yard and a half high; and yet these are mere
trifles, when compared to the gold and jewels which are shewn
occasionally.
The monks observe very religiously their statutes; nor is there a single
hour in the day that you find the church evacuated.--I always heard at
least two voices chanting the service, when the monks retire from the
church, which is not till seven o'clock at night; the pilgrims continue
there in prayer the greater part of the night.
I should have told you, that beside the superior among the hermits,
there are two sorts of them, neither of which can possess a hermitage
till they have spent seven years in the monastery, and given proofs of
their holy disposition, by acts of obedience, humility, and
mortification; during, which they spend most of their time, night as
well as day, in the church, but they never sing or chant. After the
expiration of the seven years, the Abbot takes the advice of his
brethren, and if they think the probationer's manners and life entitle
him to a solitary life above, he is sent,--but not, perhaps, without
being enjoined to wait upon some old hermit, who is past doing the
necessary offices of life for himself.--Their habit, as I said before,
is brown, and they wear their long beards; but sometimes the hermits are
admitted into holy orders, and then they wear black, and shave their
beards: however, they are not actually fixed to the lonely habitations
at first, but generally take seven or eight months trial. Many of the
abbes, whose power, you may be sure, is very great, and who receive an
homage from the inferiors, very flattering, have, nevertheless, often
quitted their power for a retirement above. They observe religiously
their abstinence from all sorts of flesh; nor are they permitted to eat
but within their cells. When any of them are very ill, they are brought
down to the convent; and all buried in one chapel, called St. Joseph.
The lay-brothers are about fourscore in number; they wear a brown habit,
and are shaved; their duty is to distribute bread, wine, and other
necessaries, to the poor and the pilgrims, and lodge them according to
their condition: and many of them are sent into remote parts of the
kingdom, as well as France and other Catholic countries, to collect
charity; while those who continue at home assist in getting in their
corn, and fetching provisions from the adjacent towns, for which
purposes they keep a great number, upwards of fifty mules.--These men
too have a superior among them, to whom they are all obedient.
There are also a number of children and young students, educated at the
convent who are taken in at the age of seven or eight years, many of
whom are of noble families; they all sleep in one apartment, but
separate beds, where a lamp constantly burns, and their decent
deportment is wonderful. Dom Jean de Cardonne, admiral of the galleys,
who succoured Malta when it was besieged by the Turks, was bred at
_Montserrat_, and when he wrote to the Abbe, "Recommend me," he said,
"to the prayers of my little brethren."
As I have already told you of the miracle of a murdered and violated
virgin coming to life, and of a child of three months old saying,
_Guerin, rise, thy sins are forgiven thee_; perhaps you will not like to
have further proofs of what miracles are wrought here, or I could give
you a long list, and unanswerable arguments to prove them.
_Frere Benoit d'Arragon_ was a hermit on this mountain, whose sanctity
of life has made his name immortal in the hermitage of St. Croix. The
following sketch of his life is engraven.
"Occidit hac sacrã Frater Benedictus in sede,
Inclytus & sama, & religione sacer,
Hic sexaginta & septem castissimus annos,
Vixit in his saxis, te, Deus alme, peccans
Usque senex, senio mansit curvatus & annis
Corpus humo retulit, venerat unde prius
Ast anima exultans, clarum repetivit olympum,
Nunc sedet in summo glorificata throno."
It appears, that Louis the Fourteenth, King of France, gave a certain
sum to this convent, to say mass and pray for the soul of his deceased
mother; the sum however was not large, being something under fifty
pounds; and the donation is recorded in the chapel of _St. Louis_, upon
a brass lamp.
_P.S._ The time that this wonderful mountain became the habitation of a
religious community, may be pretty nearly ascertained by the following
singular epitaph, on a beautiful monument, still legible in the great
church of _Tarragona_.
"_Hic quiescit Corpus sanctæ memoriæ Domini Joannis filii Domini
Jacobi, Regis Arragonum, qui decimo septimo anno ætatis suæ
factus Archiepiscopus Toletanus, sic dono scientiæ infusus
Divinitus & gratia prædicationis floruit, quod nullus ejusdem
ætatis in hoc ei similis crederetur. Carnem suam jejuniis &
ciliciis macerans, in vigesimo octavo anno ætatis suæ factus
Patriarcha Alexandrinus & Administrator Ecclesiæ Tarraconensis
ordinato per eum, inter multa alia bona opera_ novo Monasterio
scalæ Dei _Diacessis Tarraconensis, ut per ipsam scalam ad Coelum
ascenderet reddidit spiritum Creatori XIV. kalendas Septembris,
anno Domini MCCCXXXIV. anno vero ætatis suæ XXXIII. pro quo Deus
tam in vita, quam post mortem ejusdem est multa miracula
operatus_."
This very young Bishop was the son of James the second, and his Queen
_Dona Blanca_; and that he was Prior of the monastery of Montserrat,
appears in their archives; for I find the names of several hermits of
this mountain, that came down to pay homage to him.--_Dederunt
obedientiam domino Joanni Patriarchæ Alexandrino, & administratori
prioratus Montis Serrati_, &c.--It is therefore probable, that he was
the first Prior, and that the convent was built about the year 1300; but
that the mountain was inhabited by hermits, or men who retired from the
world many ages before, cannot be doubted.
LETTER XXXI.
DEAR SIR,
I have had (since I mentioned the Spanish Ladies in a former letter) an
opportunity of seeing something more of them; what they may be at
_Madrid_, I cannot take upon me to say; but I am inclined to believe,
that notwithstanding what you have heard of Spanish beauty, you would
find nature has not been over liberal as to the persons of either sex in
Spain; and though tolerable good features upon a brown complexion, with
very black hair finely combed and pinned up with two or three gold
bodkins, may be very pleasing, as a _new object_, yet a great deficiency
would appear, were you to see the same women dressed in the high fashion
of England or France. England, for real and natural female beauty,
perhaps surpasses all the world; France, for dress, elegance, and ease.
The Spanish women are violent in their passions, and generally govern
every body under their roof; husbands who contend that point with them,
often finish their days in the middle of a street, or in a prison; on the
other hand, I am told, they are very liberal, compassionate, and
charitable. They have at _Barcelona_ a fine theatre, and tolerable good
music; but the actors of both sexes are execrable beyond all imagination:
their first woman, who they say is rich by means of one _talent or
other_, (for me, like my little Lyons water girl, has _two talents_) is
as contemptible in her person as in her theatrical abilities: it is no
wonder, indeed; for these people are often taken from some of those
gipsey troops, I mentioned in a former letter, and have, consequently, no
other qualifications for the stage but impudence instead of confidence,
and ignorance instead of a liberal education. Perhaps you will conclude,
that the theatre at _Madrid_ affords much better entertainment; on the
contrary, I am well assured it is in general much worse: a Gentleman who
understands the language perfectly, who went to _Madrid_ with no other
view but to gratify his curiosity, in seeing what was worthy of notice
there, went only once to the theatre, where the heat of the house, and
the wretchedness of the performance, were equally intolerable; nor are
the subjects very inviting to a stranger, as they often perform what they
call "_Autos Sacramentales_"--_sacramental representations_. The people
of fashion, in general, have no idea of serving their tables with
elegance, or eating delicately; but rather, in the stile of our
fore-fathers, without spoon or fork, they use their own fingers, and give
drink from the glass of others; foul their napkins and cloaths
exceedingly, and are served at table by servants who are dirty, and often
very offensive. I was admitted, by accident, to a Gentleman's house, of
large fortune, while they were at dinner; there were seven persons at a
round table, too small for five; two of the company were visitors; yet
neither their dinner was so good, nor their manner of eating it so
delicate, as may be seen in the kitchen of a London tradesman. The
dessert (in a country where fruit is so fine and so plenty) was only a
large dish of the seeds of _pomegranates_, which they eat with wine and
sugar. In truth, Sir, an Englishman who has been in the least accustomed
to eat at genteel tables, is, of all other men, least qualified to travel
into either kingdoms, and particularly into Spain; especially, if what
Swift says be true, that "a nice man is a man of dirty ideas,"--I know
not the reason, whether it proceeds from climate, or food, or from the
neglect of the poorer order of the people; but _head combing_ seems to be
a principal part of the day's business among the women in Spain; and it
is generally done rather publicly.--The most lively, chearful, neat young
woman, I saw in Spain, lived in the same house I did at _Barcelona_; she
had a good complexion, and, what is very uncommon, rather light hair;
and though perfectly clean and neat in her apparel, yet I observed a
woman, not belonging to the house, attended every morning to comb this
girl's head, and I believe it was _necessary_ to be combed. I could not
very well ask the question; but I suspect that there are people by
profession called _headcombers_; every shop door almost furnishes you
with a specimen of that business; and if it is so common in _Barcelona_,
among a rich and industrious people, you may imagine, it is infinitely
more so among the slothful part of the inland cities and smaller
towns;--but this is not the only objection a stranger (and especially an
English Protestant) will find to Spain; the common people do not look
upon an Englishman as a Christian; and the life of a man, not a
Christian, is of no more importance in their eyes than the life of a dog:
it is not therefore safe for a protestant to trust himself far from the
maritime cities, as an hundred unforeseen incidents may arise, among
people so ignorant and superstitious, to render it very unsafe to a man
known to be a Protestant. If it be asked, how the Consuls, English
merchants, &c. escape?--I can give no other reason than what a Spaniard
gave me, when I put that question to him:--"Sir," said he, "we have men
here, (meaning Barcelona) who are Protestants all day, and Papists all
night; and we have a chapel where they go, into which no other people are
admitted." However, I was convinced, before I went into Spain this time,
from what I remembered formerly, that it was necessary to appear a good
Catholic; so that I always carried a little crucifix, or two, some beads,
and other _accidental_ marks of my faith; and where I staid any time, or,
indeed, where I slept upon the road, I took occasion to let some of those
_powerful protectors_ be seen, as it were, by chance;--it is very
necessary to avail one's self of such innocent frauds, in a country where
innocence itself may not be sufficient to shield you from the fury of
religious bigotry, where people think they are serving God, by destroying
men: The best method to save yourself, is by serving God in the same
manner they do, till you are out of their power. I really thought, that
Philosophy and Reason entered into Spain at the same gate that the
Jesuits were turned out of the kingdom; and, I suppose, some did; but it
must be many years before it is sufficiently diffused over the whole
nation, to render it a country like France; where men, who behave with
decency and decorum, may live, or pass through, without the least
apprehension or inconvenience on the score of religion; if they do not
meddle with politics or fortifications.
That you may not imagine my suspicions of the danger of passing thro'
Spain are ill founded, I will relate what happened to two English
Gentlemen of fashion at _Marcia_ as I had it from the mouth of one of
them lately:--they had procured letters of recommendation from some
friends to the _Alguazile_, or chief magistrate of that town; and as
there were some unfavourable appearances at their first entering
_Marcia_, and more so at their _posada_, they thought it right to send
their letters directly to the _Alguazile_; who, instead of asking them
to his house, or visiting them, sent a servant to say he was ill, and
who was directed to invite them to go that night to the comedy: they
thought it right, however, to accept the invitation, extraordinary as it
was: the _Alguazile_'s servant conducted them to the theatre, and paid
(for he was directed so to do, he said) for their admittance; and having
conducted his strangers into the pit, he retired. The comedy was then
begun; but, nevertheless, the eyes of the whole house were turned upon
them, and their's, to their great astonishment, upon the _sick
Alguazile_ with his whole family. Those near whom they at first stood,
retired to some distance: they could not, he said, consider the manner
in which they were looked at, and retired from, but to arise from
disgust or dislike, more than from curiosity. This reception, and the
manner in which they had been sent there, deprived them of all the
amusement the house afforded; for though the performers had no great
excellence, there was, among the female part of the audience, more
beauty than they expected. Mr. B----, one of the Gentlemen, at length
discovered near him in the pit a man whom he knew to be an Irishman, and
in whole countenance he plainly perceived a desire to speak, but he
seemed with-held by prudence. At length, however, he was got near enough
to his countryman to hear him say, without appearing to address himself
to any body, "_Go hence! go hence_!" They did so; and the next morning,
tho' it was a fine town, which they wished to examine, and to spend some
time in, set off early for _Carthagena_, where they had some particular
friends, to whom they related the _Alguazile_'s very extraordinary
behaviour, as well as that of the company at the theatre. It was near
the time of the Carnival at _Carthagena_: the conduct of _Don Marco_ to
the two gentlemen strangers, became the subject of conversation, and
indeed of indignation, among the Spaniards of that civilized city; and
the _Alguazile_, who came to the Carnival there soon after, died by the
hands of an assassin; he was stabbed by a mask in the night. Now suppose
this man lost his life at _Carthagena_, for his ill behaviour to the two
strangers at _Marcia_, or for any other cause, it is very certain, if
natives are so liable to assassination, strangers are not more secure.
P.S. To give you some idea of the address of the pulpit oratory in
Spain, about sixty or seventy years ago, (and it is not in general much
better at present) take the following specimen, which I assure you, is
strictly true:--
A preacher holding forth in the place called _Las_ Mancanas at Madrid,
after informing his auditors of the sufferings of Jesus Christ,
added,--and is it not strange, that we still continue to sin on, and
live without repentance? O Lord God! said he, why sufferest thou such
ungrateful and wretched sinners to live?--And instantly giving himself a
violent box on the ear, the whole assembly followed his example, and
four thousand _soufflets_ were given and received in the twinkling of an
eye.--The French Embassador, from whose _memoires_ I take this story,
was upon that instant bursting out in laughter at the pious ceremony,
had he not been checked by one of his friends, who happened to stand
near, and who assured him, that his rank and character would not have
saved him, had he been so indiscreet, for the enraged populace would
have cut him in a thousand pieces; whereupon he hid his face in his
handkerchief, and boxed his own ears more for the love of himself than
from gratitude to his Redeemer.
LETTER XXXII.
There are in Spain twelve councils of state, viz. of _War_, of
_Castile_, of the _Inquisition_, of the royal orders of _St. Iago_, of
_Arragon_, of the _Indies_, of the chamber of _Castile_, of the
_Croisade_, of the _State_, of _Italy_, of the _Finances and Treasure_,
and lastly, that (of no use) of _Flanders_.
The council of _War_ is composed of experienced men of various orders,
who are thought capable of advising upon that subject, and not of any
determinate number.
That of _Castile_ has a president and sixteen other members, beside a
secretary and inferior officers; it is the first of all the councils,
and takes cognizance of civil as well as criminal matters. The King
calls this council only OUR council, to mark its superiority to all
others. The president is a man of great authority, and is treated with
the utmost respect; nor does he ever visit any body.
The council of the _Inquisition_, established by _Don Fernando_ in 1483,
has an inquisitor general for its president, who is always a _Grandee_
of the first condition; he has six counsellors, who are called apostolic
inquisitors. This court, (the power of which has, fortunately for
mankind, been of late years greatly abridged) has a great number of
inferior officers, as well as _holy spies_, all over the kingdom,
particularly at _Seville_, _Toledo_, _Valladolid_, _Barcelona_, and
other places, where these horrid tribunals are fixed; each is governed
by three counsellors, who, however, are dependant on that of Madrid; and
to whom they are obliged every month to give a particular account of
what has passed through their hands. These men have not power to
imprison a priest, a religious, nor even a gentleman, without obtaining
the consent of the supreme court above; they meet at _Madrid_ twice
every day, and two of the King's council always attend at the afternoon
meeting.
Of the council of the three royal orders of Spain; that of _Santiago_ is
the first; the other two are _Calatrava_ and _Alcantara_. It is composed
of a president, six counsellors, and other officers.
The president of the council of _Arragon_ is called the vice chancellor;
who is assisted by nine counsellors, and inferior officers. This council
attend to the public state of the kingdom of _Arragon_, as well as to
the islands of _Majorca_, _Ivica_, &c.
The council of the _Indies_ was established in 1511, for the
conservation and augmentation of the new kingdoms discovered by
_Columbus_ in South America, in 1492; and where the Spaniards have at
this time four thousand nine hundred leagues of land, including _Mexico_
and _Peru_; land divided into many kingdoms and provinces, in which they
had built, in the year 1670, upwards of eight thousand churches, and
more than a thousand convents. They have there a patriarch, six
arch-bishops, and thirty-two bishops, and three tribunals of the
inquisition. This council is composed of a president, a grand
chancellor, and twelve counsellors, a treasurer, secretary, advocates,
agents, and an infinite number of inferior officers. They meet twice a
week, to regulate all the affairs, both by land and sea, relative to
that part of the King's dominions.
The council of the _Croisade_ is composed of a president, who is called
the commissary general, and who has great privileges. The clergy are
obliged to pay something annually to it; and if any one finds a purse of
money in the streets, they are obliged to deliver it to the secretary of
this council.
The council of _State_ is composed of men of the first birth and
understanding about the court. The King presides, and is assisted by
the archbishop of _Toledo_. This council is not confined to any certain
number; they meet three times a week, to deliberate on the most
important affairs of the kingdom.
The council of _Italy_ attends to the affairs of _Naples_, _Sicily_, and
_Milan_; it is composed of a president, and six counsellors, three of
whom are Spaniards, one Neapolitan, one Italian, and one Sicilian; each
of which have their separate charge on the affairs of those countries.
The council of _Finances and Treasure_ is composed of a president, who
is called _presidente de hazienda_, that is, superintendant of the
finances; eight counsellors, and a great number of other officers,
beside treasurers, controllers, &c, who have a great share of the most
important affairs of the nation to regulate; they hear causes, and are
not only entrusted with the treasures of the kingdom, but with
administration of justice to all the king's subjects. You may easily
judge what a number of officers compose this council, when I tell you,
that they have twenty-six treasurers.
The council of _Flanders_ have now only the _name_; as the King of
England bears that of France.--The formal manner which men, high in
office or blood, observe in paying or receiving visits, is very
singular: the inquisitor-general, for instance, has several black lines
marked upon the floor of his anti-chamber, by which he limits the
civilities he is to shew to men, according to the rank or office they
bear: he has his _black_ marks for an embassador, an envoy, &c. When
people of condition at Madrid propose to make a visit, it is previously
announced by a page, to know the day and hour they can be received; and
this ceremony is often used on ordinary visits, as well as those of a
more public nature: the page too has his coach to carry him upon these
errands. I have seen the account of a visit made by the Cardinal of
_Arragon_ to the Admiral of _Castile_, the train of which filled the
whole street; he was carried by six servants in a magnificent chair, and
followed by his body coach drawn by eight mules, attended by his
gentlemen, pages, esquires, all mounted on horseback, and arrayed in a
most sumptuous manner. Every order of men assume an air of importance in
Spain. I have been assured, that when a shoemaker has been called upon
to make a pair of shoes, he would not undertake the work till he had
first enquired of _Dona_, his wife, whether there was any money in the
house? if she answered in the affirmative, he would not work. Even the
beggars do not give up this universal privilege, as the following
instance will evince:--A foreigner of fashion, who was reading in a
bookseller's shop in Madrid, was accosted by one of the town beggars,
who in an arrogant manner asked his charity, in terms which implied a
demand rather than a favour. The stranger made no reply, nor did he take
the least notice, but determined to continue reading, and dismiss the
insolent beggar by his silent contempt: this encreased the beggar's
hardiness; he told him, he might find time enough to read after he had
attended to his request, and what he had to say. But still the gentleman
read on, and disregarded his rudeness. At length, the beggar stept up to
him, and with an air of the utmost insolence, at the same time taking
him hold by the arm, added, What! neither charity, nor courtesy? By this
time, the stranger lost all patience, and was going to correct him for
his temerity:--Stop, Sir, (said the beggar, in a lower tone of voice)
hear me;--pardon, me, Sir; do you not know me? No, certainly; replied
the stranger, But, said he, you ought, for I was secretary to an embassy
in a certain capital, where we lived together in intimacy; and then told
him his name, and the particular misfortunes which had reduced him to
that condition; he expressed himself with art, address, and eloquence,
and succeeded in getting money from the gentleman, though he could not
convince him that he was his old acquaintance.
There are in Spain an infinite number of such sort of beggars, who are
men of sense and letters, and so _au fait_ in the art, that they will
not be denied. The grand secret of the art of begging is in
perseverance; and all the _well-bred_ part of beggars do not despair,
though they have ten refusals. But the worst sort of beggars in Spain,
are the troops of male and female gipsies: these are the genuine breed,
and differ widely from all other human beings. In Spain I often met
troops of these people; and when that interview happens in roads very
distant from towns or dwellings, the interview is not very pleasing; for
they ask as if they knew they were not to be refused; and, I dare say,
often commit murders, when they can do it by surprize. Whenever I saw
any of these people at a distance, I walked with a gun in my hand, and
near to the side of my chaise, where there were pistols visible; and by
shewing them I was not afraid, or, at least, making them believe so,
they became afraid of us. They are extremely swarthy, with hair as black
as jet; and form a very picturesque scene under the shade of those rocks
and trees, where they spend their evenings; and live in a manner by no
means disagreeable, in a climate so suitable to that style, where bread,
water, and idleness is certainly preferable to better fare and hard
labour. It is owing to this universal idleness that the roads, the inns,
and every thing, but what is absolutely necessary, is neglected; yet,
bad as the roads are, they are better than the _posada_, or inns. _El
salir de la posada, es la mejor jornada_,--"_the best part of the
journey_, say the Spaniards, _is the getting_ _out of the posada_." For
as neither king nor people are at much expence to make or mend the high
ways, except just about the capital cities, they are dry or wet, rough
or smooth, steep or rugged, just as the weather or the soil happens to
favour or befoul them.--Now, here is a riddle for your son; I know he is
an adept, and will soon overtake me.
I'm rough, I'm smooth, I'm wet, I'm dry;
My station's low, my title's high;
The King my lawful master is;
I'm us'd by all, though only his:
My common freedom's so well known,
I am for that a proverb grown.
The roads in Spain are, like those in Ireland, very _narrow_, and the
leagues very long. When I complained to an Irish soldier of the length
of the miles, between Kinsale and Cork, he acknowledged the truth of my
observation; but archly added, that though they were _long_, they were
but _narrow_.--Three Spanish leagues make nearly twelve English miles;
and, consequently, seventeen Spanish leagues make nearly one degree.
The bad roads, steep mountains, rapid rivers, &c. occasion most of the
goods and merchandize, which are carried from one part of the kingdom to
the other, to be conveyed on mule-back, and each mule has generally a
driver; and as these drivers have their fixed stages from _posada_ to
_posada_, so must the gentlemen travellers also, because there are no
other accommodations on the roads but such houses; the stables therefore
at the _posadas_ are not only very large, but the best part of the
building, and is the lodging-room of man and beast; all the muleteers
sleep there, with their cloaths on, upon a bundle of straw: but while
your supper is preparing, the kitchen is crowded with a great number of
these dirty fellows, whose cloaths are full of vermin; it would be
impossible, therefore, for even a good cook to dress a dish with any
decency or cleanliness, were such a cook to be found; for, exclusive of
the numbers, there is generally a quarrel or two among them, and at all
times a noise, which is not only tiresome, but frequently alarming.
These people, however, often carry large sums of money, and tho' they
are dirty, they are not poor nor dishonest.--I was told in France, to
beware of the _Catalans_; yet I frequently left many loose things in and
about my chaise, where fifty people lay, and never lost any thing.
When I congratulated myself in a letter to my brother, upon finding in
Wales a Gentleman of the name of Cooke, whose company, conversation, and
acquaintance, were so perfectly pleasing to me; my brother observed,
however, that my Welch _friend_ was not a _Welchman_, for, said he,
"there are no COOKS in Wales;"--but this observation may be with more
justice applied to Spain; for I think there are no COOKS in Spain; but
there are, what is better, a great number of honest, virtuous men: I
look upon the true, genuine Spaniards to be as respectable men as any
in Europe; and that, among the lower order of them there is more honour
and honesty than is to be found among more polished nations; and, I dare
say, there were an hundred Spaniards at _Barcelona_, had they been as
well informed about my identity as Messrs. Curtoys and Wombwell, that
would have changed my notes, or lent me money without.
_P.S._ The tour through Spain and Portugal by UDAL ap RHYS, grandfather
to the now Mr. Price of Foxley in Herefordshire, abounds with more
falshoods than truths; indeed I have been told it was written, as many
modern travels are, over a pipe in a chimney corner: and I hope Mr.
Udal never was in Spain, as "_one fib is more excusable than a
thousand_."
LETTER XXXIII.
NISMES.
_Monsr Anglois_ having sent me back my _passa-porte_, signed by _Don
Philipe Cabine_, the Captain-General of _Barcelona_, accompanied by a
very kind and friendly letter, I determined to quit the only place in
Spain which had afforded me pleasure, amusement, and delight. We
accordingly sat off the next day for _Martorel_, and went to the Three
Kings, where our Italian host, whose extortions I had complained of
before, received us with a face of the utmost disdain; and though he had
no company in his house, put us into much worse apartments than those we
had been in before. I ordered something for supper, and left it to him,
as he had given us a very good one before; but he was not only
determined to punish us in lodging, but in eating also, and sent only
four little mutton cutlets, so small, that they were not sufficient for
one, instead of four persons; we pretended, however, not to perceive his
insolence, that he might not enjoy our punishment; and the next day, as
I was desirous of looking about me a little, we removed to another
_posada_, where, about noon, a Canon of great ecclesiastical preferment
arrived, with a coach, six mules, and a large retinue, to dinner: the
Canon had no more the marks of a gentleman than a muleteer; and he had
with him two or three persons, of no better appearance. While his
dinner, a kind of _olla_, was preparing, I went into the kitchen, where
the smell of the rancid oil with which it was dressed, would have dined
two or three men of moderate or tender stomachs; nor had he any other
dish. There was behind his coach a great quantity of bedding,
bed-steads, &c. so you will perceive he travelled _comme il faut_. His
livery servants were numerous, and had on very short livery coats, with
large sleeves, and still shorter waists. After he had eat a dinner,
enough to poison a pack of hounds, he sat off in great pomp for
_Barcelona_, a city I passed the next day with infinite pleasure,
without entering its inhospitable gates; which I could not have done,
had not _Mons. Anglois_ saved me that mortification by getting my _passa
porte refreshed_. I confess, Sir, that while I passed under the
fortifications of that city, which the high road made necessary, I felt,
I knew not why, a terror about me, that my frame is in general a
stranger to; and rather risqued two hours' night travelling, bad and
dangerous as the roads were, than sleep within four leagues of it; so
that it was ten o'clock before we got to _Martereau_, a little city by
the sea side, where we had lodged on our way to _Barcelona_. The next
day, we proceeded on the same delightful sea coast we had before passed,
and through the same rich villages, on our way to _Girone_, _Figuiere_,
&c. and avoided that horrid _posada_ where the Frenchman died, by lying
at a worse house, but better people: but having bought a brace of
partridges, and some _red fish_ on the road, we fared sumptuously,
except in beds, which were straw mattrasses, very hard, and the room
full of wet Indian corn; but we were no sooner out of our _posada_, than
the climate and the beautiful country made ample amends for the town and
_posada_ grievances.
It is contrary to the law of Spain to bring more than a certain quantity
of Spanish gold or silver out of the kingdom, and I had near an hundred
pounds in gold _duras_, about the size of our quarter guineas. I
endeavoured to change them at _Figuiere_, but I found some very artful,
I may say roguish, schemes laid, to defraud me, by a pretended
difficulty to get French money, and therefore determined to proceed with
it to _Jonquiere_, the last village, where it was not probable I could
find so much French money. I therefore had a very large French _queue_
made up, within which the greater part of my Spanish gold was bound; and
as the weight _made_ me hold up my _tete d'or_, the custom-house
officers there, who remembered my entrance into Spain, found
half-a-crown put into their hands less trouble than examining my baggage
gratis; they accordingly _passed_ me on my way to _Bellegarde_, without
even opening it; and we found the road up to that fortress, though in
the month of December, full as good as when we had passed it in the
summer; and after descending on the French side, and crossing the river,
got to the little _auberge_ at _Boulon_, the same we had held too bad
when we went into Spain, even to eat our breakfast at; but upon our
return, worthy of a place of rest, and we accordingly staid there a
week: beds with curtains, rooms with chimnies, and paper windows, though
tattered and torn, were luxuries we had been unaccustomed to.--But I
must not omit to tell you, that on our road down on the French side of
the _Pyrenees_, two men, both armed with guns, rushed suddenly out of
the woods, and making towards us, asked, whether we wanted a guard? I
was walking, perhaps fortunately at that time, with my fuzee in my hand,
and my servant had a double barrelled pistol in his; and therefore
forbid them to approach us, and told them, we had nothing else to lose
but our lives, and that if they did not retire I should look upon them
as people who meant to plunder, rather than protect us: they accordingly
retired into the woods, and I began to believe they had no evil intent;
but finding an _Exempt_ of the _Marechaussee_ at _Boulon_, I told him
what had passed, and asked him whether his men attended upon that road,
in coloured cloaths, or any others were allotted, to protect or guard
travellers? He assured me there were no such people of any kind; that
his men always moved on horseback, in their proper character, and
suspected _our guard_ would have been very troublesome, had they found
us _off our guard_; but he did not offer, nor did I ask him, to send
after them, though he was a very civil, sensible man, who had been three
years on duty in _Corsica_; and, consequently, his company, for the week
I staid in such a poor town, was very agreeable. And as _Mons. Bernard_,
or some officer of the _Marechaussee_, is always in duty at this town, I
would advise those who enter into Spain, by that route, to procure a
couple of those men to escorte them up to _Bellegarde_--an attention
that no officer in France will refuse to shew, when it is not
incompatible with his duty.
The rapid water at this town, which I had passed going into Spain, was
now lower than usual. Here too my horse, as well as his master, lived
truly _in clover_; and though our habitation was humble, a habitation at
the very foot of the _Pyrenees_ could not but be very beautiful; no part
of France is more so; it is indeed a beautiful and noble sight, to see
the hanging plantations of vines, olives, and mulberry-trees, warmed by
a hot sun on the sides of those mountains, the upper parts of which are
covered with a perpetual snow. But beautiful as all that part of the
country is, there was not a single gentleman's house in the environs.
After a compleat week's refreshment, we proceeded to _Perpignan_ to
spend our Christmas, where we found the _Chevalier de Maigny_ and his
Lady, who had given us the letter of recommendation to the French Consul
at _Barcelona_; who shewed us those marks of civility and politeness,
French officers in general shew to strangers. There we staid a
fortnight; and _Mons. de Maigny_ got me a considerable profit, in
changing my Spanish gold for French.
In this town, I found an unfortunate young Irishman; he had been there
three months, without a friend or a shilling in his pocket; and as he
was a man of education and good breeding, I could not so soon forget my
own situation at _Barcelona_, not to pity his: but what most induced me
to assist him a little, was, what he feared might have had a contrary
effect. When I asked him his name, he readily answered, "R--h; an
unfortunate name!" said he;--"but, as it is my name, I will _wear
it_."--He had a well-wisher in the town, a French watch-maker, to whom
he imparted the little kindness I had shewn him; and as it was not
enough to conduct him on foot to the north side of this kingdom, the
generous, but poor watch-maker, gave him as much as I had done, and he
sat off with a light heart, though a _thin pair of breeches_, for his
own country. He had been to visit a rich relation at Madrid; and, I
believe, did not meet with so cordial a reception there as he expected.
At this town I drank, at a private gentleman's house, part of a bottle
of the wine made at a little village hard by, called _Rios Alto_; the
most delicious wine I ever tasted: but as the spot produces but a small
quantity, that which is really of the growth is very scarce, as well as
dear: it has the strength of full port, with a flavour superior to
burgundy.
_Perpignan_ is the principal city of _Rosillein_; it is well fortified,
but the works are in a ruinous condition: the streets are narrow and
dirty, but the Governor's, and the botanic gardens are worthy of notice:
the climate is remarkably fine, and the air pure. The _Pyrenees_, which
are at least fifteen miles distant, appear to hang in a manner over the
town: to see so much snow, and feel so much sun, is very singular. Wood
is very scarce and dear in that town: I frequently saw mules and asses
loaded with rosemary and lavender bushes, to sell for firing. The
barbarous language of the common people of this province, is very
convenient, as they understand French, and can make themselves
understood thro' a great part of Spain: from which kingdom not a day
passes but mules and carriages arrive, except when the heavy rains or
snow obstruct the communication.--The mules and asses of Spain, and this
part of France, are not only very useful but valuable beasts: the only
way to get a valuable one of either sort from Spain, is, to fix upon the
beast, and promise a round sum to one of the religious mendicants to
smuggle it out of the kingdom, who covers the animal with bags, baskets,
and a variety of trumpery, as if he was going into France to collect
charity: and passes either by _not_ being suspected, or by being a
_Religieux_ if he is suspected.
As we took exactly the same route from _Perpignan_ to this town as we
went, except leaving _Cette_ a few leagues on our left; I shall say
nothing of our return, but that we relished our reception at the French
inns, and the good cheer we found there, infinitely more than as we
went: and that we were benighted for some hours before we got into
_Montpellier_, and caught in the most dreadful storm of rain, thunder
and lightning I ever was exposed to. I was obliged for two hours to hold
my horse's bridle on one side, as my man did on the other, and feel with
sticks for the margin of the road, as it was elevated very high above
the marshy lands, and if the heel had slipped over on either side, it
must have overset the chaise into the lowlands: besides which, the
roaring of the water-streams was so great, that I very often thought we
were upon the margin of some river or high bridge: nor was my suffering
quite over even after I got into the city: I could not find my former
_auberge_, nor meet with any body to direct me: and the water-spouts
which fell into the middle of those narrow streets almost deluged
us.--My poor horse, too, found the steep streets, slippery pavement, and
tons of water which fell upon him, as much as he could well bear: but,
as the old song says,
"Alas! by some degree of woe,
We every bliss obtain;"
So we found a good fire and good cheer an ample recompence for our wet
jackets. It was so very dark, that though I led my horse by the head
above a league, I could but seldom see him: nor do I remember in my
whole life to have met with any difficulty which so agitated my
mind:--no: not even at the _bar of the House of Lords_, I did not dread
the danger so much, as the idea of tumbling my family over a precipice,
without the power to assist them; or, if they were _gone_, resolution
enough to _follow them_.
END _of the_ FIRST VOLUME.
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