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A RESIDENCE IN PORTUGAL

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JOURNAL
OF
A FEW MONTHS' RESIDENCE
IN PORTUGAL
3-5-640
GLIMPSES OF THE SOUTH OF SPAIN
AND
BY
DORA WORDSWORTH (MRS QUILLINAN)
NEW EDITION
EDITED, WITH MEMOIR, BY
EDMUND LEE
AUTHOR OF DOROTHY WORDSWORTH' ETC.
WITH PORTRAIT
LONDON
.LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1895
A11 rights reserved
NOTE TO THIS EDITION
SOME time ago a copy of the First Edition of this
Journal, published in 1847, came into my possession.
The pleasure I derived from its perusal forced upon
me the conclusion that many of the present genera-
tion, to whom all Wordsworth associations are full
of interest, would appreciate the opportunity of be-
coming acquainted with a work comprising such an
entertaining chapter in the life of the great poet's
beloved daughter. It may be said that pictures of
Portuguese and Spanish life fifty years ago are not
likely to afford much interest to present-day readers.
I think, however, that, apart from matters of local
and historical information concerning regions over
which lingers the charm of old romance, the Journal
contains such incidents of personal adventure, such
descriptions of scenery, and records of thought,
written in a pleasing and graceful style, as will secure
it a cordial welcome. Some portions of perhaps
more particular interest at the time it was written
and other slight details have been omitted.
vi
.
NOTE TO THIS EDITION
The opportunity thus afforded of appending a
short memoir of the writer of the Journal could not
be resisted. In this I have done little more than
string together facts already recorded. concerning
the brief life of Dora Wordsworth. The sources of
information are chiefly the Memoirs of Wordsworth,
by Dr. C. Wordsworth ; Diary and Reminiscences
of Henry Crabb Robinson ;' " Memorials of Cole-
orton;' The Transactions of the Wordsworth
Society ;' and the · Memoir of Edward Quillinan,'
by William Johnston.
E. L.
BRADFORD: 1895."
STANZAS
BY EDWARD QUILLINAN
The clouds of wintry yesterday are gone;
The blue of Heaven is pale with light to-day;
Bright shines the morn as ever morning shone
In southern valleys, in the month of May.
Green meadows bask beneath me; all around
Are mountains brow'd with diadems of snow;
And Rotha dances with a silvery sound,
At play with sunbeams to the lake below. ***
Fair scene and sunny Sabbath! Why this tear ?
Alas! it is not Rydal Vale I see,
Nor Rotha's spring-tide music that I hear,
Nor Fairfield's crown of snow that shines for me.
Granada's circled plain is at my feet;
Her mountains their eternal snows reveal;
And myrtled Darro flashes down to greet
And mingle yonder with the soft Xenil.
And lo! the magic palace of the Moor,
The red Alhambra haunted by Romance ;
And Dora, spell-bound by delight as pure
As ever trembled in a woman's glance.
Hark to the nightingales! they throng their lays;
Not one, but hundreds hail the poet's child.
O what a day was that! Of Sabbath days
The most divine that ever hope beguiled. .
viii
STANZAS
Strange contrast to the sound of Sabbath bells
That woodland music heard in Moslem halls ;
Yet to her heart of holier things it tells,
And dearer harmonies of prayer recalls.
But where was Dora after one short year,
When flowers exhaled the May's delicious breath ?
Not yet, not yet, on her untimely bier,
But living, conscious in the arms of Death.
O flowers of Rydal, could ye bloom again!
The last her mortal eyes were doomed to see
Were roses clustering at her lattice pane,
The blossoms from her brother's funeral tree.
Ere three-score suns and ten, from May-day morn,
Had risen and set on Rydal's laurell'd height,
The radiant spirit which of Heaven was born,
For us too precious, wing'd to Heaven her flight.
When thrice the folds in Grasmere Vale had yean'd
And April daisies bloom'd upon her grave,
A life broke down that would on hers have lean'd;
And sire to daughter, dust to dust, we gave.
In these loved haunts, where all things have a voice
That echoes to the bard's inspiring tongue,
Where woods and waters in his strain rejoice,
And not a mountain lifts its head unsung.'
Of Him the Tarns and Meres are eloquent;
The running waters are his chroniclers;
The eternal mountains are his monument-
A few frail hearts and one green mound are hers."
Rydal : Sunday, Feb. 2, 1851.
i Poems, by Edward Quillinan.
OF
DORA WORDSWORTH
r parents Lis born on Augushing her from
DOROTHY WORDSWORTH, more familiarly known by the
name of Dora, for the purpose of distinguishing her from
her aunt of that name, was born on August 16, 1804, at
the time that her parents lived in refined poverty at Dove
Cottage, Grasmere. She was the poet's second child,
her elder brother John being fourteen months older.
From her very earliest days she became the object of
her father's most ardent affection, and was destined to be
one of the favoured band of womanhood whose influence
and devotion served to crown his life with good. Happy
in sister and wife, he was also blessed in his daughter.
After the close intercourse of the poet and his sister
as he told Lady Beaumont, his daughter's godmother,
break his promise to himself to name his first daughter
by the somewhat obsolete name of Dorothy rather than
after his wife.
The following poem was written on being reminded
that his little daughter was a month old :-
_Hast thou then survived
Mild Offspring of infirm humanity,
Meek Infant! among all forlornest things,
The most forlorn-one life of that bright star,
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
A second glory of the Heavens ?—Thou hast
Already hast survived that great decay,
The transformation through the wide earth felt,
And by all nations. In that Being's sight
From whom the Race of humankind proceed,
A thousand years are but as yesterday;
And one day's narrow circuit is to Him
Not less capacious than a thousand years.
But what is time? What outward glory? Neither
A measure is of Thee, whose claims extend
Through 'Heaven's eternal year.'—Yet hail to Thee
Frail, feeble Monthling !—by that name, methinks,
Thy scanty breathing time is portioned out
Not idly.—Hadst thou been of Indian birth,
Couched on a casual bed of moss and leaves,
And rudely canopied by leafy boughs,
Or to the churlish elements exposed
On the blank plains,—the coldness of the night,
Or the night's darkness, or its cheerful face
Of beauty, by the changing moon adorned,
Would with imperious admonition, then
Have scored thine age, and punctual timed
Thine infant history, on the minds of those
Who might have wandered with thee.--Mother's love,
Nor less than mother's love in other breasts,
Will, among us warm-clad and warmly housed,
Do for thee what the finger of the heavens
Doth all too often harshly execute
For thy unblest coevals, amid wilds
Where fancy hath small liberty to grace
The affections, to exalt them or refine;
And the maternal sympathy itself,
Though strong, is, in the main, a joyless tie
Of naked instinct, wound about the heart.
Happier, far happier is thy lot and ours !
Even now-to solemnise thy helpless state,
And to enliven in the mind's regard
Thy passive beauty—parallels have risen,
Resemblances, or contrasts, that connect,
Within the region of a father's thoughts,
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
xi
Thee and thy mate and sister of the sky.
And first; thy sinless progress, through a world
By sorrow darkened, and by care disturbed,
Apt likeness bears to hers, through gathered clouds
Moving untouched in silver purity,
And cheering oft-times their reluctant gloom.
Fair are ye both, and both are free from stain :
But thou, how leisurely thou fill'st thy horn
With brightness ! leaving her to post along,
And range about, disquieted in change,
And still impatient of the shape she wears.
Once up, once down the hill, one journey, Babe,
That will suffice thee; and it seems that now
Thou hast fore-knowledge that such task is thine ;
Thou travellest so contentedly, and sleep'st
In such a heedless peace. Alas! full soon
Hath this conception, grateful to behold,
Changed countenance, like an object sullied o'er
By breathing mist; and thine appears to be
A mournful labour, while to her is given
Hope, and a renovation without end.
-That smile forbids the thought; for on thy face
Smiles are beginning, like the beams of dawn,
To shoot and circulate; smiles have there been seen;
Tranquil assurances that Heaven supports
The feeble motions of thy life, and cheers
Thy loneliness : or shall those smiles be called
Feelers of love, put forth as if to explore
This untried world, and to prepare thy way
Through a strait passage intricate and dim?
Such are they; and the same are tokens, signs,
Which, when the appointed season hath arrived,
Joy, as her holiest language, shall adopt;
And Reason's godlike Power be proud to own.
The poem, 'The Kitten and the Falling Leaves,' was
also written at a later period of the same year. The
scene of the poem was in the garden-orchard' of Dove
Cottage. The poet said of it: The elder bush has long
xii
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
since disappeared: it hung over the wall near the
cottage ; and the kitten continued to leap up, catching
the leaves, as here described.'
That way look, my Infant, lo!
What a pretty baby show !
See the Kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves-one-two-and three-
From the lofty elder-tree !
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one may think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending-
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute,
In his wavering parachute.
-But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts !
First at one, and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now—now one-
Now they stop and there are none.
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half-way
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again :
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer ;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Here her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little Tabby care
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
xili
For the plaudits of the crowd ?
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure !
'Tis a pretty baby-treat;
Nor, I deem, for me unmeet;
Here, for neither Babe nor me,
Other playmate can I see.
Of the countless living things,
That with stir of feet and wings
(In the sun or under shade,
Upon bough or grassy blade)
And with busy revellings,
Chirp and song, and murmurings,
Made these orchard's narrow space,
And this vale so blithe a place;
Multitudes are swept away
Never more to breathe the day :
Some are sleeping : some in bands
Travelled into distant lands;
Others slunk to moor and wood,
Far from human neighbourhood;
And among the Kinds that keep
With us closer fellowship,
With us openly abide,
All have laid their mirth aside.
Where is he that giddy Sprite,
Blue-cap, with his colours bright,
Who was blest as bird could be,
Feeding in the apple-tree ?
Made such wanton spoil and rout,
Turning blossoms inside out;
Hung-head pointing towards the ground
Fluttered, perched, into a round
Bound himself, and then unbound;
Lithest, gaudiest, Harlequin !
Prettiest Tumbler ever seen!
xiv
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
Light of heart and light of limb;
What is now become of Him ?
Lambs, that through the mountains went
Frisking, bleating merriment,
When the year was in its prime,
They are sobered by this time.
If you look to vale or hill,
If you listen, all is still,
Save a little neighbouring rill,
That from out the rocky ground
Strikes a solitary sound.
Vainly glitter hill and plain,
And the air is calm in vain;
Vainly Morning spreads the lure
Of a sky serene and pure ;
Creatures none can she decoy
Into open sign of joy:
Is it that they have a fear
Of the dreary season near ?
Or that other pleasures be .
Sweeter even than gaiety?
Yet whate'er enjoyments dwell
In the impenetrable cell
Of the silent heart which Nature
Furnishes to every creature ;
Whatsoe'er we feel and know
Too sedate for outward show,
Such a light of gladness breaks
Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks-
Spreads with such a living grace
O'er my little Dora's face :
Yes, the sight so stirs and charms
Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms,
That almost I could repine
That your transports are not mine,
That I do not wholly fare
Even as ye do, thoughtless pair !
And I will have my careless season
Spite of melancholy reason
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
XV
Will walk through life in such a way.
That, when time brings on decay,
Now and then I may possess
Hours of perfect gladsomeness.
—Pleased by any random toy;
By a kitten's busy joy,
Or an infant's laughing eye
Sharing in the ecstasy;
I would fare like that or this,
Find my wisdom in my bliss,
Keep the sprightly soul awake,
And have faculties to take,
Even from things by sorrow wrought,
Matter for a jocund thought,
Spite of care, and spite of grief,
To gambol with Life's falling leaf.
We have in the correspondence of the poet and his
sister with their many friends pleasing glimpses of Dora
in her infancy and happy childhood, from which we see
that she early gave promise of the sweet and lively dis-
position by which she was in her after life characterised.
Writing to her friend Mrs. Marshall, Dorothy says:
Dorothy improves in mildness, and her countenance
becomes more engaging, but she is not so richly endowed
with the gracious nature as her brother. Perhaps it is
that she is more lively; and we see, indeed, that her way-
wardness is greatly subdued. She is at times very
beautiful, and elegance and wildness are mingled in her
appearance, more than ever I saw in any child.'1 After
a short absence from home Wordsworth writes (June 3,
1806) to Lady Beaumont: 'I found everybody well, little
Dorothy the most altered—I ought to say improved-for
she is growing the most delightful chatterer ever seen;
all acquired in two months : nor is it the least of her
recommendations that she is more delighted with me than
Life of William Wordsworth, by Professor W. Knight.
xvi
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
with the new toy, and is never easy, if in my sight, when
out of my arms.'
The birth of a brother (Thomas, in June 1806) was a
source of great delight to Dora. Her aunt writes,
Dorothy is in ecstasies whenever she sees her little
brother, and she talks about him not only all day through,
but in her dreams at night, “ Baby, baby."' A gift of
books by Lady Beaumont to her elder brother seems to
have given equal pleasure to his little sister. Could you
see Dorothy, how she spreads her hands and arms, and
how she exclaims over each book, as she takes it from
the case, and the whole together-such a number ! (when
by special favour she is permitted to view them) then you
would indeed be repaid for the trouble and pains you have
taken ! She lifts her arms and shouts, and dances, and
calls out “Johnny, book! Dear godmother sent Johnny
book.” She looks upon them as sacred to Johnny, and
does not attempt to abuse them.'l.
An outbreak of an epidemic at Grasmere, when Dora
was about two years old, is the means of affording a
picture of the simple manner of life of the inhabitants of
Dove Cottage at this period.
*A few minutes before your letter arrived William had
set forward with his daughter on his back, and our little
nursemaid and I were on foot following after, all on our
road for the high mountain pass betwixt Grasmere and
Patterdale, by which road we were going to Park House,
to remove the child from danger of whooping-cough,
which is prevalent at Grasmere. . . . A young man
assisted my brother in bearing the child over the moun-
tains. We went down Ulswater in a boat, and arrived
in the evening at Park House, about three miles further.
Our little darling had been the sweetest companion that
travellers ever had. She noticed the crags, streams,
everything we saw, and when we passed by any living
1 Memorials of Coleorton, vol. i. p. 135.
1
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
xyii
creatures, sheep or cows, she began to sing her baby
songs, which she has learnt from us, “Baa! baa ! black
sheep," and" Curly cow, bonny.” She was not frightened
in the boat, but for half an hour she screamed dreadfully,
wanting to be out and in the water. This was all the
trouble we had with her in the whole journey, for she fell
asleep, and did not wake till we landed.'!
Writing to Lady Beaumont on February 28, 1810,
Miss Wordsworth says: The children each in a different
way are thriving, happy, and interesting creatures. . ..
Dorothy is a delightful girl-clever, entertaining, and
lively-indeed so very lively that it is impossible for her
not to satisfy the activity of her spirit with a little
naughtiness at times. ...
The difference in the character and dispositions of
the Wordsworth children is often alluded to by Miss
Wordsworth. Writing to her friend Henry Crabb Robin-
son on her return home after a short absence she says
(November 6, 1810):
There was great joy in the house at my return,
which each showed in a different way. They are sweet
· wild creatures, and I think you would love them all.
John is thoughtful with his wildness; Dora alive, active,
and quick; Thomas innocent and simple, as a new-born
babe. John had no feeling but of bursting joy when he
saw me. Dorothy's first question was, “Where is my
doll ?” We had delightful weather when I first got
home; and on the first morning Dorothy roused me from
my sleep with “ It is time to get up, aunt, it is a blasty
morning—it does blast so.” And the next morning, not
more encouraging, she said, “ It is a hailing morning it
hails so hard.” You must know that our house stands
on a hill, exposed to all hails and blasts.' 2
Memorials of Coleorton, vol. i. p. 144.
? Diary of H. C. Robinson. The Wordsworths then resided at
Allan Bank, Grasmere.
xviii MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
An affection of the eyes with which the poet was:
troubled, caused by an inflammation, was at frequent
intervals for many years a source of considerable trouble
to him, preventing him from reading and writing. The
following poem addressed To Dora,' was written when
his daughter was about twelve years old :-
• A little onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on!'
What trick of memory to my voice hath brought
This mournful iteration ? For though Time,
The Conqueror, crowns the conquered, on this brow
Planting his favourite silver diadem,
Nor he, nor minister of his—intent
To run before him, hath enrolled me yet,
Though not unnenaced, among those who lean
Upon a living staff, with borrowed sight.
O my own Dora, my beloved child !
Should that day come—but hark! the birds salute
The cheerful dawn, brightening for me the east;
For me, thy natural leader, once again
Impatient to conduct thee, not as erst
A tottering infant, with compliant stoop
From flower to flower supported; but to curb
The nymph-like step swift-bounding o'er the lawn,
Along the loose rocks, or the slippery verge
Of foaming torrents.-From thy orisons
Come forth; and while the morning air is yet
Transparent as the soul of innocent youth,
Let me, thy happy guide, now point thy way,
And now precede thee, winding to and fro,
Till we by perseverance gain the top
Of some smooth ridge, whose brink precipitous
Kindles intense desire for powers withheld
From this corporeal frame; whereon who stands
Is seized with strong incitement to push forth
His arms, as swimmers use, and plunge-dread thought,
For pastime plunge-into the abrupt abyss,'
Where ravens spread their plumy vans, at ease!
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
xix.
And yet more gladly thee would I conduct
Through woods and spacious forests—to behold
There, how the Original of human art,
Heaven-prompted Nature, measures and erects
Her temples, fearless for the stately work,
Though waves to every breeze, its high-arched roof,
And storms the pillars rock. But we such schools
Of reverential awe will chiefly seek
In the still summer noon, while beams of light,
Reposing here, and in the aisles beyond
Traceably gliding through the dusk, recall
To mind the living presences of nuns :
A gentle, pensive, white-robed sisterhood,
Whose saintly radiance mitigates the gloom
Of those terrestrial fabrics, where they serve,
To Christ the Sun of Righteousness, espoused.
Now also shall the page of classic lore,
To these glad eyes from bondage freed, again
Lie open; and the book of Holy Writ,
Again unfolded, passage clear shall yield
To heights more glorious still, and into shades
More awful, where advancing hand in hand,
We may be taught, o darling of my care !
To calm the affections, elevate the soul,
And consecrate our lives to truth and love.
The sight of his daughter playing in front of Rydal
Mount (to which residence they removed in 1813) on the
· Longest Day’in 1817, suggested to the poet the poem
bearing that title, which is also addressed to her :-
Let us quit the leafy arbour,
And the torrent murmuring by ;
For the sun is in his harbour,
Weary of the open sky.
Evening now unbinds the fetters
Fashioned by the glowing light;
All that breathe are thankful debtors
To the harbinger of night.
a 2
XX
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
Yet by some grave thoughts attended
Eve renews her calm career:
For the day that now is ended
Is the longest of the year.
Dora ! sport as now thou sportest,
On this platform, light and free;
Take thy bliss, while longest, shortest,
Are indifferent to thee!
Who would check the happy feeling
That inspires the linnet's song?
Who would stop the swallow, wheeling
On her pinions swift and strong ?
Yet at this impressive season,
Words which tenderness can speak
From the truths of homely reason
Might exalt the loveliest cheek.
And, while shades to shades succeeding
Steal the landscape from the sight,
I would urge this moral pleading,
Last forerunner of Good-night.'
SUMMER ebbs; each day that follows
Is a reflux from on high,
Tending to the darksome hollows
Where the frosts of winter lie.
He who governs the creation,
In His providence assigned
Such a gradual declination
To the life of humankind.
Yet we mark it not-fruits redden,
Fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown,
And the heart is loath to deaden
Hopes that she so long hath known.
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
xxi
Be thou wiser, youthful Maiden !
And when thy decline shall come,
Let not flowers, or boughs fruit-laden,
Hide the knowledge of thy doom.
Now, even now, ere wrapped in slumber,
Fix thine eyes upon the sea
That absorbs time, space, and number ::
Look thou to Eternity!
Follow thou the flowing river
On whose breasts are thither borne
All deceived, and each deceiver,
Through the gates of night and morn..
Through the year's successive portals;
Through the bounds which many a star
Marks, not mindless of frail mortals,
When his light returns from far.
Thus when thou with Time hast travelled,
Toward the mighty gulf of things,
And the mazy stream unravelled
With thy best imaginings;
Think, if thou on beauty leanest,
Think how pitiful that stay,
Did not virtue give the meanest
Charms superior to decay.
Duty, like a strict preceptor,
Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown;
Choose her thistle for thy sceptre,
While youth's roses are thy crown.
Grasp it-if thou shrink and tremble,
• Fairest damsel of the green,
Thou wilt lack the only symbol
That proclaims a genuine queen.
xxii
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
And ensures those palms of honour
Which selected spirits wear,
Bending low before the Donor,
Lord of heaven's unchanging year!
One of the ecclesiastical sonnets, written about 1821
contains a tender allusion to Dora. Part III. of the
series is introduced by the following note. “When I
came to this part of the series I had the dream described
in this sonnet. The figure was that of my daughter, and
the whole passed exactly as here represented. The
sonnet was composed on the middle road leading from
Grasmere to Ambleside ; it was begun as I left the last
house of the vale, and finished, word for word as it now
stands, before I came in view of Rydal.'
I saw the figure of a lovely Maid
Seated alone beneath a darksome tree,
Whose fondly overhanging canopy
Set off her brightness with a pleasing shade.
No Spirit was she; that my heart betrayed ;
For she was one I loved exceedingly;
But while I gazed in tender reverie
(Or was it sleep that with my Fancy played ?)
The bright corporeal presence-form and face-
Remaining still distinct grew thin and rare,
Like sunny mistat length the golden hair,
Shape, limbs, and heavenly features, keeping pace
Each with the other in a lingering race
Of dissolution, melted into air,
As the years passed on in the poet's peaceful house-
hold, it was his delight to watch the unfolding of his
daughter's intellect and the ripening of her character.
She became more and more his companion and grew into
graceful, gracious, tender and dignified womanhood.
Another instance when she afforded a subject for his
muse is found in the poem The Parrot and the Wren.'
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
Xxiii
This poem was written in reference to a parrot belonging
to Mrs. Luff, who then lived at Fox-Ghyll, and a wren
that had haunted for many years the summer-house
between the two terraces at Rydal Mount. After con-
trasting the characteristics and condition of the two
birds, he concludes by the inquiry addressed to his
daughter :-
Say Dora! Tell me by yon placid moon,
If called to choose between the favoured pair,
Which would you be-the bird of the saloon
By lady's fingers tended with nice care,
Caressed, applauded, upon dainties fed,
Or Nature's DARKLING of this mossy shed ?
A source of great anxiety to her parents from time to
time was a certain weakness of constitution, which grew
more apparent and appeared to develope as she grew
older. The following extracts from letters from her aunt
Dorothy to Mr. Crabb Robinson in 1827 have reference
to this. On January 6, she writes : “My dear niece's
health is very much improved. She gains strength and
flesh. True, she is still invalidish, and will probably be
so during the winter; but there seems to be no present
cause for anxiety, and, through God's blessing, we trust
to the spring for perfect restoration. A few weeks later
she writes: 'Poor Dora is now confined to her room;
but this is at present owing to the severe weather, for the
cough which first proved her overthrow has been sub-
dued by a blister. My brother's heart would be as much
fixed as ever upon Italy were not anxiety kept almost
constantly alive. It is our decided opinion that she ought
not to pass the next winter here, and all schemes must
give way to her benefit. If she be strong enough for so
very long a journey, a winter in Italy might be the best.
But funds will, I am afraid, be deficient, and it is prob-
able that some warm nook on the southern shore of
xxiy
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
England may be fixed upon when summer comes, the
time for deciding.'!
On February 18 she writes again: 'My niece is
much the same-not worse, but very delicate; and we
are unceasingly anxious, during this cold weather, to keep
her from injury. The present morning has brought that
kind of fine weather which is delightful to the strong for
exercise, but very trying to invalids, though confined
wholly to the house as she is. ..:
With the advent of the warm weather, the health of
the young invalid happily improved. Mrs. Wordsworth,
writing to Mr. John Kenyon, refers to her daughter's
more satisfactory condition : 'Dora, whom you so kindly
inquire after, is no longer an invalid; she has become as
strong as I ever remember her to have been, but this
happy state is only to be depended upon so long as the
beautiful weather lasts; she is a complete air gauge
as soon as the damp is felt, the trouble of her throat
returns, something connected with the trachea, that
causes a cough and other inconveniences. To keep this.
enemy aloof she has not to winter in our weeping
climate; therefore before the next rainy season sets in,
perhaps in a very few weeks, she, with myself for her
attendant, are to quit our pleasant home and friends;
but we mean to go to others, and make ourselves as
joyous as we can. Our first and longest sojourn will be
with my brother at Brinsop Court, near Hereford. . ..'2
In the following year, 1828, Dora accompanied her
father and Coleridge upon a tour in Flanders, returning
by way of Holland. When passing through the quaint
old town of Bruges, an incident occurred which was
made the subject of a poem, which shows her sweetly
sympathetic disposition. Wordsworth said of it: 'Dora.
and I, while taking a walk along a retired part of the
town, heard the voice as here described, and were after-
The Transactions of the Wordsworth Society. 2 Ibid.
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
XXV
wards informed it was a convent in which were many
English. We were both much touched, I might say
affected, and Dora moved as appears in the verses.'
In Brugès town is many a street
Whence busy life hath fled;
Where, without hurry, noiseless feet
The grass-grown pavement tread.
There heard we, holding in the shade
Flung from a Convent tower,
A harp that tuneful prelude made
To a voice of thrilling power.
The measure, simple truth to tell,
Was fit for some gay throng;
Though from the same grim turret fell
The shadow and the song.
When silent were both voice and chords,
The strain seemed doubly dear,
Yet sad as sweet-for English words
Had fallen upon the ear.
It was a breezy hour of eve;
And pinnacle and spire
Quivered and seemed almost to heave,
Clothed with innocuous fire;
But, where we stood, the setting sun
Showed little of his state;
And, if the glory reached the Nun,
'Twas through an iron grate.
Not always is the heart unwise,
Nor pity idly born,
If even a passing Stranger sighs
For them who do not mourn.
Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove,
Captive, whoe'er thou be!
Oh! what is beauty, what is love,
And opening life to thee ?
xxvi
MEMOIR OF. DORA WORDSWORTH
Such feeling pressed upon my soul,
A feeling sanctified
By one soft trickling tear that stole
From the Maiden at may side;
Less tribute could she pay than this,
Borne gaily o'er the sea
Fresh from the beauty and the bliss
Of English liberty?
Reference should also be made in this place to the
poem entitled “The Triad,' which was written in 1828.
It is of unusual interest, representing the daughters of
Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge as the three Graces
-the united three. Edith Southey and Dora Wordsworth
were nearly of an age, Sara Coleridge being a few years
older. From their earliest years they were close friends,
and, so far as a distance of about fifteen miles permitted,
they were constant companions, for until they left home
upon their respective · marriages both Sara and Edith
resided with Southey at Greta Hall. The poem is well
known to lovers of Wordsworth, but the portion of it which
portrays Dora should not be omitted. The poem opens
by picturing a noble youth-
from the Olympian clime
Returned, to seek a Consort upon earth;'
The poet invokes the attendance of the three :-
Come, like the Graces, hand in hand !
For ye, though not by birth allied,
Are Sisters in the bond of love!'
In her turn Dora is called. Lovingly does the pencil
linger over the fond picture :
Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce,
Come, youngest of the lovely Three,
Submissive to the might of verse
And the dear voice of harmony,
By none more deeply felt than Thee !'
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH xxvii
-I sang; and lo! from pastimes virginal
She hastens to the tents
Of nature, and the lonely elements.
Air sparkles round her with a dazzling sheen;
But mark her glowing cheek, her vesture green !
And, as if wishful to disarm
Or to repay the potent Charm,
She bares the stringéd lute of old romance,
That cheered the trellised arbour's privacy,
And soothed war-wearied knights in raftered hall.
How vivid, yet how delicate, her glee!
So tripped the Muse, inventress of the dance;
So, truant in waste woods, the blithe Euphrosyne !
But the ringlets of that head
Why are they ungarlanded ?
Why bedeck her temples less
Than the simplest shepherdess ?
Is it not a brow inviting
Choicest flowers that ever breathed,
Which the myrtle would delight in
With Idalian rose enwreathed ?
But her humility is well content
With one wild floweret (call it not forlorn)
FLOWER OF THE WINDS, beneath her bosom worn-
Yet more for love than ornament.
Open, ye thickets ! let her fly,
Swift as a Thracian Nymph o'er field and height!
For She, to all but those who love her, shy,
Would gladly vanish from a Stranger's sight;
Though, where she is beloved and loves,
Light as the wheeling butterfly she moves;
Her happy spirit as a bird is free,
That rifles blossoms on a tree,
Turning them inside out with arch audacity.
Alas! how little can a moment show
Of an eye where feeling plays
In ten thousand dewy rays;
xxviii MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
-She stops-is fastened to that rivulet's side ;-
And there (while with sedater mien,
O'er timid waters that have scarcely left
Their birth-place in the rocky cleft
She bends) at leisure may be seen
Features to old ideal grace allied, 1
Amid their smiles and dimples dignified-
Fit countenance for the soul of primal truth;
The bland composure of eternal youth !
What more changeful than the sea ?
But oyer his great tides
Fidelity presides ;
And this light-hearted Maiden constant is as he.
High is her aim as heaven above,
And wide as ether her good-will;
And, like the lowly reed, her love
Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill :
Insight as keen as frosty star
Is to her charity no bar,
Nor interrupts her frolic graces
When she is far from those wild places,
Encircled by familiar faces.
O the charm that manners draw,
Nature, from thy genuine law !
If from what her hand would do,
Her voice would utter, aught ensue
Untoward or unfit;
She, in benign affections pure,
In self-forgetfulness secure,
Sheds round the transient harm or yague mischance
A light unknown to tutored elegance:
Hers is not a cheek shame-stricken,
But her blushes are joy-flushes ;
| This is said by Sara Coleridge to be an allusion to a supposed
likeness between Dora Wordsworth's contour of face and the
Memnon in the British Museum.
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
xxix
And the fault (if fault it be)
Only ministers to quicken
Laughter-loving gaiety,
And kindle sportive wit-
Leaving this Daughter of the mountains free,
As if she knew that Oberon, king of Faery,
Had crossed her purpose with some quaint vagary,
And heard his viewless bands
Over their mirthful triumph clapping hands.
It was near the close of this year that the poet's
sister Dorothy was taken alarmingly ill while on a visit
to Whitwick, where her nephew John had received an
appointment to a curacy. Mrs. Wordsworth having gone
to be with her sister-in-law, and Wordsworth himself
suffering from his eyes, Dora not only had for some time
the care of the household, but also acted as her father's
amanuensis, who, writing to a friend said: 'Dora is my
housekeeper, and did she not hold the pen, it would run
wild in her praises.?
Shortly after this the Rev. John Wordsworth was
appointed to the incumbency of Moresby, in Cumberland.
The following letter, dated April 22, 1830, has reference
to a visit paid by Dora to him at that place : 'John is very
happy at Moresby. ... His mother spent three weeks
with him in the winter, and Dora is now his companion,
and will remain till fetched home by her father, who finds
a sad want of her ; but he willingly submits, the young
people being so very happy, and her health improved with
sea air and horse exercise with her brother. They each
have a pony. Her winter's cough has dealt more gently
with her than usual, yet she has been so far from well,
though with an inexhaustible stock of lively spirits and
of activity within doors, though utterly unable to follow
the example of her mother's youth and mine in walk-
ing. . . . Dora longs to go to Rome; the father would
truly like it, the mother would fall into any plans that
XXX
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
could reasonably be formed for such a purpose, and as
for me, I think I should lack none of the zeal which
would have accompanied me thither twenty years ago.'
The autumn of the year 1831 was signalised by a visit
paid to Sir Walter Scott prior to his departure for
Naples, where he was intending to pass the winter.
Sir Walter was then showing signs of failing in his
bodily and mental condition. Wordsworth, writing of
this visit, says :-
"At noon on Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the
morning of that day, Sir Walter and I had a close con-
versation, tête-à-tête, when hie spoke with gratitude of the
happy life which, upon the whole, he had led. He had
written in my daughter's album, before he came into the
breakfast room that morning, a few stanzas addressed to
her; and while putting the book into her hand, in his
own study, standing by his desk, he said to her in my
presence, “I should not have done anything of this kind,
but for your father's sake; they are probably the last
verses I shall ever write.” They showed how much his
mind was impaired, not by the strain of thought, but by
the execution, some lines being imperfect, and one stanza
wanting corresponding rhymes. One letter, the initial
S, had been omitted in the spelling of his own name.'
This occasion also afforded an opportunity of a short
tour in the Highlands, with which Dora was more
delighted than words can tell,' and which was memo-
rialised by the production of the poems ‘Yarrow Revisited,'
&c. This ramble, in reference to which Wordsworth has
said that for more than a month he scarcely saw a news-
paper, was attended by much benefit to both. He wrote:
My spirits rallied, and with exercise—for I often walked
scarcely less than twenty miles a day-and the employ-
ment of composing verses, amid scenery most beautiful,
and at a season when the foliage was most rich and varied,
the time flew away delightfully, and when we came back
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
I
'
Xxxi
into the world again, it seemed as if I had waked from
a dream, that never was to return. We travelled in an
open carriage with one horse, driven by Dora; and while
we were in the Highlands I walked most of the way by
the side of the carriage, which left us leisure to observe
the beautiful appearances. The rainbows and coloured
mists floating about the hills were more like enchant-
ment than anything I ever saw, even in the Alps.'
Dorothy, writing to Mr. Crabb Robinson on Decem-
ber 1, 1831, says :-
When Dora heard of your return, and of my intention
to write, she exclaimed, after a charge that I would recall
to your mind your written promise, “He must come and
spend Christmas with us. I wish he would !” Thus, you
see, notwithstanding your petty jarrings, Dora was
always, and now is, a loving friend of yours. ... My
brother and Dora visited Sir Walter Scott just before his
departure, and made a little tour in the Western High-
lands; and such was his leaning to his old pedestrian
habits, that he often walked from fifteen to twenty miles in
a day, following or keeping by the side of the little carriage,
of which his daughter was the charioteer. They both
very much enjoyed the tour, and my brother actually
brought home a set of poems, the product of that
journey.'!
In January 1834, Edith Southey was married to the
Rev. J. W. Warter. Dora went to Keswick to pass a few
days with her old friend and to act as one of her brides-
maids. As may be supposed, the occasion was one of
sorrow as well as of joy. Edith thought regretfully of
the vacant chair which would be left in her father's house,
and Dora shared in the regret, as well for her own sake
as for her friend's. We cannot wonder that when
Mrs. Warter, a day or two after the marriage, drove
through Rydal on their way to the south, and left
i Diary of H. C. Robinson.
and Vacant chair whitjoy. Editheo
Xxxii
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
marriage tokens at the foot of the hill for the family at
the Mount, 'she was so much affected as to be unable to
speak to the person who took charge of them.' Dorothy
writės about this time : 'I was beginning to hope that
Dora might summon the resolution to go to Leamington
after the marriage, but this she now declares she cannot
do; she should be so very wretched at a distance from
her father, till his eyesight is more strengthened and
secure; so we must now look forward to the time when
the two may venture on their travels together, which I
hope, whenever it is, may take them within reach of
you.'
The diary of Mr. Crabb Robinson contains the follow-
ing reminiscence of a visit to Rydal at the Christmas of
1835: ‘Wordsworth's daughter Dora-Dorina, as I call
her by way of distinction—was in somewhat better health
than usual, but generally her state of health was a
subject of anxiety. She was the apple of her father's
eye.'
Under date February 20, 1836, Mrs. Wordsworth
writes to Mr. Robinson: 'Dora with her tender love, ...
bids me add that she has hitherto considered you a
true friend, and hopes you still are so; but if you were
aware of the flatteries which, almost every other day, .
her father has poured in upon him, you would be slow to
increase, for our sakes, the number. For he is really, she
says, growing so vain, she cannot keep him in any kind
of order.
Upon the approach of another Christmas, 1836, Mrs.
Wordsworth again writes: ‘Last evening, when we were
all sitting drowsily over the fire, I sagely observed, “I
“Will the Sun cut us?",
Notwithstanding the playful allusion in 'The Triad,'
Wordsworth's passionate attachment to his daughter made
him desire to keep her at her old home, and it was with
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH xxxiii
difficulty he could become reconciled to the thought of
her marriage.
Among their friends was Mr. Edward Quillinan, a man
of high character and distinguished attainment. A native
of Oporto and the son of Roman Catholic parents, he had
been sent to England in very early life, and there educa-
ted. When about seventeen years of age a commission
was purchased for him in the army, and he subsequently
served in the Light Dragoons in the latter part of the
Peninsular campaign. On the restoration of peace, and
during other intervals of leisure, he turned his attention
to literature, and from time to time wrote poems of
daughter of Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart., of Denton Court,
near Dover. Being in the year 1821 quartered at Penrith,
he introduced himself to Wordsworth at Rydal Mount,
and from thence sprang the long friendship which after-
wards existed between them, and which eventually
resulted in closer connection. Mr. Quillinan was so
charmed with our beloved lake-land, and delighted so
much in the society of its great poet, that he left the
army and settled at Rydal with his wife and young
daughter, Jemima Katherine, then two years old. Here a
second daughter, Rotha (so named after the pleasant
sustained the terrible bereavement which darkened his
life for many years and rendered his two little girls
motherless. The dressing-gown of Mrs. Quillinan having
caught fire she sustained such injuries that she died in
a few days. Mr. Quillinan's friendship with the Words-
worths was cemented by this common sorrow, and the
devoted ministrations of Dorothy Wordsworth and her
niece to the little ones. Shortly after this sad event, Mr.
Quillinan went to reside near Canterbury, and remained
there for many years. It was not until nineteen years
had passed that the long attachment which had existed
xxxiv MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
between him and Dora Wordsworth resulted in their
marriage. Notwithstanding their friendship, Wordsworth
was not for a long time willing to give his consent.
Sir Henry Taylor, alluding to Miss Fenwick's connec-
tion with the Wordsworths and Dora's marriage, says :-
"At this time her influence over him was invaluable
to the family. His love for his only daughter was
passionately jealous, and the marriage which was indis-
pensable to her peace and happiness was intolerable to
his feelings. The emotions-I may say the throes and
agonies of emotion-he underwent were such as an old
man could not have endured without suffering in health,
had he not been a very strong old man. But he was
like nobody else-old or young. He would pass the
night, or most part of it, in struggles and storms, to the
moment of coming down to breakfast; and then, if
strangers were present, be as easy and delightful in con-
versation as if nothing was the matter. But if his own
health did not suffer, his daughter's did, and this conse-
quence of his resistance, mainly aided, I believe, by the
temperate but persistent pressure exercised by Miss Fen-
wick, brought him at length, though far too tardily, to
consent to the marriage. On May 6, 1841, Miss Fenwick
writes from Bath: “Our marriage still stands for the
11th, and I do sincerely trust nothing will interfere with
its taking place on that day, for all parties seem prepared
for it. Mr. Wordsworth behaves beautifully.") 1
The marriage took place as arranged. After returning
to Rydal Mount, where they passed some weeks, Mr. and
Mrs. Quillinan resided a year or two in London, and
afterwards at Ambleside. The summers of 1843 and
1844 were spent on the island on Windermere, lent to
them by Mr. Curwen. On August 25, 1843, writing to
Mr. Crabb Robinson, Mr. Quillinan says : 'On Friday,
Mr. Wordsworth accompanied Dora and me by water to
| Autobiography of Henry Taylor, vol. i. p. 337.
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
XXXV
side Dora's behbours among Words
Low Wood, whence Dora went to Rydal in a car, and
thence to Brigham with James in her father's phaeton.
She went to take care of her brother's children, accord-
ing to promise, while John and his wife are absent, or
such part of the time as may be arranged. Very incon-
venient and desolate for me is her absence, but it was a
duty that called her away. Had she been here, I should
have thought I could not find time to write to you such
a “lengthy prose."')
In May of 1844, Mr. Quillinan, writing from Amble-
side to the same friend, says:
Dora's best love to you. I wish you could have seen
our good neighbours, and C—'s pleased smile when he saw
his name included among the friends to whom you sent
greetings. Mr. and Mrs. Wordsworth started for Brig-
ham to see the grand-children. Dora remains at Rydal
Mount in care of her aunt till they return. My girls are
on a visit to a young friend at Grasmere for a few days.
What a heavenly-earthly season it is! It is enough to
live and breathe such air, see such flowers, such stars,
such moonlight, such variety of vegetation, and vapour,
and shadow on lake and mountain, and to hear such
joyous carolling from every bush.' 2
The felicity of these few brief happy years was
clouded by the continued delicacy of Mrs. Quillinan.
She was advised to have a sea voyage and to spend some
time in the south. Accordingly, in the spring of 1845,
she accompanied her husband and her elder step-daughter,
Jemima, whose place was subsequently taken by the
younger, to Portugal, where they passed the following
winter, and afterwards spent some time in the south of
Spain. Of this visit, Mrs. Quillinan kept a journal which,
it has been said, “abounds in graceful description, and
Diary of H. C. Robinson.
? Memoir of Edward Quillinan.
b 2
xxxvi MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
indicates that health was restored and cheerfulness main-
tained, during their pilgrimage in the sunny south.'
Returning to England in July 1846, they took up their
abode at Loughrigg Holme. This residence had been
occupied by Mr. Carter, Wordsworth's assistant in the
stamp office, and was enlarged for the Quillinans during
their absence abroad. In this delightful retreat, which
stands at the foot of Loughrigg on the bank of the Rothay,
they looked forward to years of happy intercourse and
peaceful life. Here Mrs. Quillinan prepared her journal
for the press. It was shortly afterwards published in two
volumes, and contained the following simple dedication :
* These notes are dedicated in all reverence and love to
my Father and Mother, for whom they were written.'
The improvement in her health proved, however, to be
only temporary. Towards the end of the year she went to
Carlisle to assist in the preparation of the house of her
youngest brother, who was about to marry. This winter
journey resulted in a cold, the effects of which she never
cast off. Shortly after her return she went to stay for a
time at Rydal Mount, during the absence of Mr. and Mrs.
Wordsworth at Westminster, when she became rapidly
worse. Her parents were summoned home early in April,
and by the end of the month all hope of her recovery had
been abandoned. She had not strength to rally. It is
needless to say how intense was the sorrow of her hus-
band and family.
Writing to a friend, Mr. Quillinan says: “She asked
me several particulars, to every one of which I answered
faithfully, so she was put in full possession of the truth.
The spirit in which she received the awful intimation, and
with which she continues to bear to look it in the face, is
in every respect admirable; so humble, so self-censuring
for faults of temper, which the delicacy of her conscience
magnifies, yet so cheerful; so hopeful of the mercy of
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH xxxvii
God, so willing to live, yet so resigned to die; and so
loving withal, and so considerate.
Mrs. Arnold, writing to Mr. Crabb Robinson on June
1, 1847, says :-
Dear Mr. Wordsworth comes forth occasionally to
see his old friends, and yesterday morning when I saw
him slowly and sadly approaching by our birch-tree, I
hastened to meet him, and found that he would prefer
walking with me around our garden boundary, to enter-
ing the house and encountering the larger party. So we
wandered about here, and then I accompanied him to
Rydal, and he walked back again with me, through the
great field, as you can so well picture to yourself. This
quiet intercourse gave me the opportunity of seeing how
entirely our dear friends are prepared to bow with sub-
mission to God's will. No one can tell better than your-
self how much they will feel it, for you have had full
opportunities of seeing how completely Dora was the joy
and sunshine of their lives; but, by her own composure
and cheerful submission, and willingness to relinquish all
earthly hopes and possessions, she is teaching them to
bear the greatest sorrow which could have befallen them.''.
And so it was at Rydal Mount, which had been her
home for nearly all the forty three years of her life—the
scene of her childish gladness, her youthful love, her tender
devotion, her life's intense feeling—that the poet's daughter
lay patiently waiting the end. “More than two months
passed away. They were months of sadness and sorrow
to them. But she who was the object of their care was
cheerful. She knew that her end was near, and she
looked steadily and calmly at it. None of her natural
courage and buoyancy failed her, and it was invigorated
and elevated by faith. She gradually declined, and at
length her spirit departed, and she fell asleep in peace.'2
H. C. Robinson's Diary.
2 Memoirs of Wordsworth.
17
xxxviii MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH
Quillinan, dated yesterathed her last.". Haha. La
Under date July 10, 1847, Mr. Crabb Robinson writes.
in his diary: This morning I received a short note from
Quillinan, dated yesterday : “At 1 A.M., my precious Dora,
your true friend-breathed her last.” Hardly a word
more.' Wordsworth himself wrote to his nephew : ‘Last
night (I ought to have said a quarter to one this morning)
it pleased God to take to Himself the spirit of our beloved
daughter, and your truly affectionate cousin. She had
latterly much bodily suffering; in which she supported
herself by prayer and gratitude to her heavenly Father
for granting her to the last so many of His blessings. I
need not write more. Your aunt bears up under this
affliction as becomes a Christian.'1
She was laid to rest in the corner of Grasmere church-
yard near her little brother and sister, who had died in
early life, and where so many of her race have since been
gathered to her side. The stone at the head of her grave
containing her name is inscribed with the words : 'Him
that cometh unto Me, I will in'no wise cast out.'
Wordsworth and his son-in-law were drawn still nearer
by the bond of common loss. Writing of the poet, Sir
Henry Taylor says of him : 'At his daughter's death, a
silence as of death fell upon him, and though during the
interval between her death and his own, his genius was.
not at all times incapable of its old animation, I believe it
never again broke into song. We are told that when,
three years later, the aged poet himself lay dying, his wife,
in order to let him know the medical opinion, whispered,
· William, you are going to Dora. For the moment he
did not seem to notice the remark, but about twenty-four
hours after, when the curtains of his room were drawn
aside, he said, as if arousing from slumber, 'Is that Dora?'
Shortly after, the newly-made widow had to bear the
news of her bereavement to her invalid sister-in-law,
Memoirs of Wordsworth, by Dr. C. Wordsworth.
MEMOIR OF DORA WORDSWORTH Xxxix
which she did in the words, 'He has gone to Dora.' Few
scenes in literary history are more pathetic than this
heart-moving picture..
Of Mr. Quillinan's poems and sonnets, containing
touching allusions to his loss, the following may find a
fitting place :-
A REQUEST.
Two graves in Grasmere vale, yew-shaded both,
My all of life, if life be love, comprise.
In one the mother of my children lies,
Fate's blameless victim in her bloom of youth:
The other holds the constancy and truth
That never failed me under darker skies,
When subtle wrongs perplex'd me. Her, whose eyes
Saw light through every wildering maze uncouth.
Between those graves a space remains for me:
O lay me there, wherever I may be
When met by Death's pale angel; so in peace
My dust near theirs may slumber till the day
Of final retribution or release
For mortal life's reanimated clay.
This request was soon fulfilled. In four years Mr.
Quillinan followed his devoted wife, and on July 12, 1851,
he was buried between the two he had so well loved, his
grave forming one of the famous group in the corner of
the Churchyard among the Mountains.
PREFACE
TO
THE FIRST EDITION
IF I had set out from home with the project of
writing a book, I might as well perhaps have gone to
Portugal as to any remoter quarter; for there is no
accessible portion of the globe that has not been
visited and described ; and after all the fightings and
writings in and on Portugal, there is, I believe, no
country in Europe that is less thoroughly familiar
to us, none indeed which has been more imperfectly
explored by tourists. It is still in fact a labyrinth
to strangers, just as Spain was one immense maze
of labyrinths till the other day, when Mr. Ford sup-
plied the clue by the production of his methodical,
comprehensive, and most intelligent handbook-too
humble a name for so high a work-shaming the De
la Bordes and all preceding pioneers through that
vast wilderness. A similar publication on Portugal,
on a scale of course proportionably reduced, and
therefore a labour comparatively moderate, would be
xlii
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
precious from the same hand, not only to foreigners
but to natives—especially if written in a spirit of
courtesy, which we too often dispense with in our
comments on the Portuguese, but to which they are
nevertheless well entitled. Childe Harold's rash and
unlordly sneer has become vulgar in the mouth of
Echo, and is therefore unworthy of repetition by a
writer like Mr. Ford. Our old and faithful ally,'
Lusitania, revolts at the airs of affectionate contempt
with which she is patronised by England, and if we
would reclaim any particle of her good-will, we should
learn to repress our superciliousness, and
* Be to her faults a little blind,
Be to ber virtues very kind.'
The worst symptom of her modern character, and
one indeed which to us at a distance does make the
Portuguese appear ridiculous, is that everlasting
civil-warring on a small scale, which seems to begin
without a plan, to pause without a result, and after
a sudden lull to be resumed without any definite
aim. But for these turbulent humours the mass of
the people are far less to blame than some of their
upstart rulers, who, availing themselves of the evils
of a disputed succession, have made the instability of
the throne and the fever of the public mind subserve
their dishonest ambition, like thieves to whom an
earthquake or a fire is an opportunity for plunder.
A stranger has little to apprehend from the
natives, even when they are in commotion, if he will
.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
xliii
UU
but refrain from intermeddling in the quarrel. If
he has the good fortune to be among them as we
were, between the moves, he is safe enough. As for
me, though of the sex in whom cowardice is no dis-
grace, I cannot say I anticipated hazard, or required
much persuasion, in rambling out of the beaten
tracks in a country where so few English ladies ever
travel at all. Nor have I any personal adventure to
relate ; for, as we met none, I resisted the temptation
of getting up a few moving accidents and hairbreadth
'scapes,' and of so giving to my Journal the attraction
of a Story-book. The truth is, as I believe, that
unless you lay yourself out for danger by some
bravado, or some indiscretion of temper, or by neg-
lect of such ordinary precautions as are customary
and reasonable, you may, when the country is not
overrun with civil warriors, travel in Portugal as
securely, if not so smoothly, as you can navigate the
Thames from Vauxhall to Richmond, or as you may
ascend the Nile from Cairo to the Cataracts, where,
under the protectorate of Mehemet Ali, you have for
the present no chance of an adventure if you do not -
make one for yourself; and hardly of a new one even
then, unless you could outdo Mr. Waterton, and ride
an alligator up the Rapids to Assuan.
The following Diary, prepared solely for my
friends at home, will in no degree help to supply the
want that I have mentioned of a complete guide-
book for Portugal, nor even for the limited portion
70
0
xliv
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
of it which I have seen. It gives but a slight notice
here and there of a few of the more remarkable
objects that to me had all the charm of uncommon-
ness; and it is diffuse only on the attractive beauty
and freshness of the landscapes, and on the generally
amiable character of the inhabitants. On the first
of these two subjects, the natural scenery, I have
dwelt with a fondness that may expose me to the
raillery of having produced rhapsodies 'where pure
description holds the place of sense;' on the other
topic, the good qualities of the Portuguese people, I
can truly say, “As I found the Portuguese, so I have
characterised them.' My main inducement, indeed,
to the publication of this desultory Journal is the
wish to assist in removing prejudices which make
Portugal an avoided land by so many of my roving
countrymen and countrywomen, who might find
there much to gratify them if they could be per-
suaded that it does not deserve the reproach of being
merely a land of unwashed fiery barbarians and
over brandied port-wine. The shores of the Minho
and of the Douro, as well as of the Tagus, so long
called 'the home-station of our Navy, are now easy
of access as the banks of the Rhine ; and almost the
whole length of the inland country, from Braganza
to Faro, has, to most of our travellers who have been
everywhere else, the grand recommendation of being
new. It is to this' great fact, the possibility of
finding novelty even yet in the Old World, and in a
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
xlv
quarter within three days' voyage from the Isle of
Wight, that I would call their attention, and not
theirs only, but that also of ramblers from the New
World, the countrymen of Prescott and Washington
Irving, of whom every year brings so many to the
Mediterranean side of Spain, yet so few to this, the
Atlantic shore of Spain and westernmost coast of
Europe—a shore which ought peculiarly to interest
all Americans--for hither swam Columbus from his
burning ship, here he found a home and a wife, and
here he meditated and prepared his plan of discovery
long before Isabella's patronage enabled him to real-
ise it. Here, too, Martin Boehm found patronage ;
here Magellan and Alvares Cabral were born; and
here, in the service of king Emanuel, died Americus,
the man from whom half the globe so strangely
received a name.
In looking over my notes, now that they are:
printed, I fear that some observations on English
prejudice may wear an ungracious air of censorious-
ness, as if I were lecturing my own countrywomen
while praising the Portuguese. Ungracious truly,
and even ungrateful should I be, who am much
indebted to the civilities of English ladies at Oporto,
if I could intend to express myself with discourtesy
to them. My remarks are made in the spirit of my
motto por bem, in answer to some of my friends, by
whom, I think, the Portuguese are misunderstood.
For example, we often heard of Portuguese mean-
xlvi
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
ness as to household arrangements and other matters
that are simply conventional, and to which we apply
the reproach of sordidness, because they differ from
ours. This is surely inconsiderate. Many of our
usages are open to similar censure from them, if
they chose to make their particular notions the arbi-
trary rule of right or wrong. They might compare,
for instance, with ours, or with that of the French,
their mode of proceeding in so strict a test of gene-
rosity as a creditor's legal power over his debtor.
Every one knows that in a case of bankruptcy with
us, the insolvent merchant or trader is compelled to
make a surrender of every particle of property in his
possession, and that the obligation is pretty rigidly
enforced, except perhaps as to the watch in his
pocket. His furniture and all his household goods
go to the auctioneer's hammer as a matter of course,
not excepting the cradle in which his babe slept the
night before. This severe justice the Portuguese
creditor might stigmatise as meanness; for, though
the law gives him ample power over the assets,' he
never molests the family of a debtor, by sending a
broker to take an inventory of his furniture-never
dreams of demanding a list of the watches, gold
chains, pearls, jewels, trinkets of any sort, that may
be possessed by his wife or daughters ; never inquires
into the amount or value of these things never
meddles with them at all; and it is to be observed
that the Portuguese creditor, so far from withholding
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
xlvii
the benefit of such lenity from the foreign resident
who may happen to fail in his debt, is usually obser-
vant of even greater delicacy to a stranger in such
circumstances than to one of his own people. In a
commercial city like Oporto, where Bacchus sits
soberly at his ledger, vigilant of profit and loss, such
gentleness to distress rather implies magnanimity
than meanness.
LVL
JOURNAL
OF A
RESIDENCE IN PORTUGAL
AND
GLIMPSES OF SPAIN
Southampton : May 7, 1845.
QUEEN' steamer weighed anchor at 3 P.M. All well
as we sailed down the river. A noisy, merry dinner,
at which eleven out of the twelve passengers were
present: quickly one after another disappeared, and
before we had passed the Needles there was but one
gentleman left in the saloon. It blew a gale in the
Channel, and this increased as we approached the
Bay of Biscay, and there we had a storm. We lost
our top-sail, and the morning greeting of a sailor to a
comrade on May 10 was, ' Dirty weather this, more
like November than May;' and as the captain was
making his way along the fore part of the vessel
rather a dangerous navigation, for the waves were
dashing over the deck as if determined to sweep away
all before them—I overheard him say a little im-
patiently, 'One need be web-footed in a ship like
this.' But a good little ship she is, and right steadily
and boldly did she work her course. We were off
Corunna soon after sunset on the 10th ; but the wind
CORUNNA
blew so strong, our captain thought it prudent not
to attempt to enter the bay till daylight should clear
away all difficulties. Those among us who had
never crossed this stormy sea before thanked him
for the delay when we found ourselves on deck at
5 A.M. on the 11th, for the first time since we left
the Hampshire coast, and our vessel quietly anchored
in the centre of that beautiful land-locked bay—the
bright sunshine falling upon the white walls of the
town, which seems to grow out of the water, and
runs more than half-way up the green sloping
heights, the summits of which are fringed with red-
capped windmills. The outline of the hills behind
these heights reminded me of the Troutbeck moun-
tain range as seen from the large island on Winan-
dermere. Boats pushing off from the shore, some
very rude in form, some of less primitive shape, but
all gay and picturesque. The two which brought
the government officers recalled to memory that
description of Camoens beginning-
* Hum batel grande, e largo, que toldado
Vinha de sedas de diversas cores,
Traz o Rei de Melinde, acompanhado
De nobres de seu reino '-
though, instead of a black prince with his attendant
chiefs-
Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreathed'-
they brought only Galician functionaries from the
custom-house and board of health. There were the
awning, under which sat the important officer, the
oarsmen, the sea sparkling under the stroke of the oar,
the earnest and, to me, unintelligible jabber of the
men as they closely examined our iron steamer,
OFF VIGO
LA
whilst their master was engaged with our postmaster
and captain in the cabin. All this there was to
gratify the eye, and the ear was cheered by sound
of Sabbath bells calling to matins. Well might such
a scene make us forget the horrors of a three days'
weltering in the Bay of Biscay. .
We were too soon again in motion, and too
soon was I obliged to quit the deck; but not before
I had stored in my mind a picture of the entrance to
Corunna, and had had pointed out to me the spot
where Sir John Moore now rests; and had admired
again and again the track of foam which the vessel
left behind her, and which, lighted up by the brilliant
sunshine, appeared as of shivered emeralds. But
Cape Finisterre was lost to me, nor could I gaze
upon the glories of a sunset at sea,' nor look upon
the lights which told where Vigo stood; but I could
hear, more distinctly than was agreeable, the noise
and clamour made by some deck passengers who
here came on board with baskets full of poultry-
fowls, turkeys, ducks, geese—which they were tak-
ing to the Lisbon market; and difficult would it have
been to decide whether the cries of alarm from the
birds, or those of anger, as it seemed, from the men,
were more discordant. Birds and bearers were at last
quieted, and we steamed away as smoothly and as
silently as a steamer can steam: the stars shone
brightly, and the crescent moon astonished me by
the power of her light. We who were bound for
Oporto were not a little anxious for the continuance
of calm weather, and not a little thankful to find, at
5 A.M., May 12, on arriving off the mouth of the
Douro, that the bar was not up.' The morning
B 2
LANDING AT THE HUTS
was glorious; sea studded with open boats, many
filled with fishermen, but more carrying peasants to
the famous festa at Matozinhos. A boat came out
to us from · The Huts’; the luggage was first stowed
therein, and then the passengers: a pretty load!
Merry pilot, merry rowers—there were twelve of
them-merrier passengers. Hardly had we cleared
the rocks, and shot under shelter of the breakwater,
when boatmen rushed out of the boat into the sea to
the shore; men, women, and children, rushed from
the shore into the sea towards the boat; and by aid
of all these persons the packages and passengers
were indiscriminately carried to land. Donkeys were
in waiting to carry our party to The Foz; we,
mounted them, leaving all the luggage in a heap on
this wild coast, surrounded by a crowd of people
wild-looking as savages, with their bare necks, bare
arms, bare legs and feet, waiting till the custom-
house officer should give to each the burthen that
was to be carried to the custom-house at Oporto,
more than three miles distant-a very inconvenient
and stupid process. I looked with amazement at
the girls as they passed us, tripping away with huge
boxes on their heads-boxes that two of them could
not have raised from the ground; or as we again
passed them when they had stopped to talk with some
friend upon the road, unconcerned about the weight
upon their heads as if it had been a bag of down.
The first flower I saw in Portugal was our own little
English sea-sand bladder-plant; and in the first
room I entered there was blazing in an English
grate an English coal fire-but we went to the house
of an English gentleman. Much, however, within
THE FOZ
the house, and all outside the house, was sufficiently
un-English to satisfy my craving after foreign
novelties.
To give a true and lively picture of St. John's da
Foz, and of the scenery of the Douro up to Oporto,
I cannot do better than extract, by permission, a few
passages from a story called “ The Belle' :-
“A motley place is this village of Foz. Suppose
in about latitude 41, longitude 8], a ragged curve of
rocks of sundry shades, from yellowish brown to
black, ranging in height from three or four to fifteen
or twenty feet, and broken into a thousand forms by
the everlasting pressure of the Atlantic Ocean on
this salient portion of the Old World. Suppose,
among these wave-rent rocks, many sands, creeks,
and little bays; within them a sloping shore of soft
deep sand, surmounted by a rough bank on which
a village has been constructed on a scheme as rude
and irregular as that of the rocks it overlooks.
What must have been originally a hamlet for fisher-
men is now the fashionable sea-bathing place of
the north of Portugal. Huts and hovels of the
meanest appearance remain unabashed by the taller
and more commodious residences that have sprung
up among them for the reception of summer visitants.
This village, which covers a considerable extent of
ground, is intersected by several ill-paved lanes,
called streets by courtesy; and these are linked by
others still narrower winding up and down in
eccentric carelessness, and wandering among garden-
walls. On a moderate height, at the northern
extremity of the place, is the lighthouse of “ Our Lady
of the Light.” The broad substantial church is con-
THE FOZ
spicuous in the centre of the village, amidst a cluster
of houses of all sizes. Below the church, on a
tongue of land that projects into the sea, stands the
little sullen fort that defends the mouth of the har-
bour, and domineers over the in-coming and out-
going shipping. The opposite shore, the left bank
of the river, is a stiff ridge, darkened with pine-trees.
At its base are some huge grey stones. A bank of
sand, called the Cabedello, runs across the harbour,
of which the mouth, between that bank and the port,
is therefore very narrow. Just without the entrance
to the river are many sunken and some visible rocks,
with shifting sands among them, and these form the
Bar of Oporto. Eastward of the fort is an unfinished
wall of strong masonry, checking the tide, and within
it is a large area of sand where the fishermen make,
mend, and dry their nets, and bleach their wet sails
in the sun' (and where we used to canter on horse-
back to and fro by the hour, our horses full of fire
and frolic, starting back from the half-spent foam-
crested wave as it was about to break over their feet).
This is called the Lower Cantereira. Between it
and the Upper Cantereira, a pleasant, thinly-planted
walk along the river-side, towards Oporto, are two
sloped causeways, flagged-landing-places for the
city boats and the fishermen's catrayas.
This little scattered chaos of sombre rocks,
yellow sands, white walls, and red-tiled roofs, of tene-
ments incongruously spread, or rather thrown as if
by chance, in clumps and patches, here huddled in
bunches and there diffused in thin lines, is San João
da Foz. Yet even in its architecture there are some
things that strike the eye of the stranger as having
THE FOZ
a character of elegance, particularly the stone crosses
that are seen above the various chapels and oratories
and, from some points of view, when the eye comes
upon them suddenly, have a singularly magical
appearance: for instance, when they are seen over
trellises of vines that hide the building to which
they belong, and show the crosses, self-poised, as it
were, in air. The stone fountains, too, with their
picturesque frequenters, are always pleasing objects.
“At the back of the village are fields of grass, and
rye, and maize, and dark pine-groves, so resinously
fragrant after showers. All these objects, and, above
all, that grand, ever-variable ocean, and the glorious
sunny skies,'--made our sojourn from May to No-
vember perfectly delightful. One of our grand
amusements was to go down to the beach to witness
the bathing.
Here again I take the liberty of extracting the
account given of this exceedingly picturesque and
very strange scene, in . The Belle':-
On a sandy flat, flanked by dark and rugged
patches of rock, square tents are pitched, and thus a
compact hamlet is formed of poles and canvas, with
straight spaces of pathway, necessary for access to the
tents, which are the dressing-rooms for the bathers.
Persons of all stations come hither to bathe ; while
idlers, male and female, stand on the ledges of rocks
and on the sands, and gaze at them as they go into
these mysterious cabins, attired in their usual dresses,
gay or sordid, and as they come out again-the
women, clad to the throat in coarse full robes of
blue frieze' (their hair beautifully arranged, braided
on the forehead, secured by bands of ribbon, and
SEA-BATHING
both mhe Triton bile the
hanging down the back in long plaits tied with
ribbon, pink or blue, like the one which encircles
the head), the men in jackets and trousers of the
same material as the dresses of the women. Assist-
ants, both male and female, who look like cousins-
german to the Tritons, conduct the bathers into the
sea, and hold them while there-ducking and sous-
ing them in every big wave that comes threatening
and storming over them, like a platoon of soldiers
firing with blank cartridge. The bathers stand as
the wave approaches, then “duck the flash"; the
wild water blusters over them ; then they rise, and
pant, and sob, clinging to their guides. It is not
unfrequent to see stout young fellows thus led into
the water by bathing women, and hugging them with
all the tenacity of girls afraid of being drowned.
You have the blind, the lame, and the halt; the young
and the handsome of both sexes, the hale and the
infirm, the old, old man, and more haggard old woman,
and the whimpering cherub child, all floundering in
the waves together, like the crew and passengers of
a wreck. Among these groups of ghastly old visages
and swart young faces, illuminated by black flashing
daughters of the North, English or German. The
sight of all these people thus grouped and huddled
together in or on the margin of a basin of the sea,
and so many of them aged and feeble, suggests the
idea of a Pool of Bethesda. An English person just
landed on these shores looks on the scene with won-
der and distaste, and resolves that his wife or his
daughters, who probably are also turning away from
it as if they questioned the decorum of the exhibition,
THE ENGLISH PRAIA
shall never be seen in such a situation. He and
they get accustomed to it, however, and the next, or
perhaps before the expiration of this very season,
the fairest form that issues from the wave in a satu-
rated blue frieze garment is that of his own wife or
daughter.
Few Englishmen bathe here. They prefer
another and certainly a better bathing-place, Os
Carreiros, which they call The Huts, about half a
mile away, where we landed. In this they are right;
but the English here, as all the world over, are too
exclusively English in their tastes. They even have
at this little watering-place a separate and most
inconvenient promenade below the lighthouse, a
rough uneven causeway, approached by a rougher
road, which might be smoothed at small cost. Such
a promenade! Our very horses were inclined to be
restive when we turned their heads in that direction ;
and then, when they had ploughed and plunged
through the deep loose sand in which great stones
were dangerously concealed, what pleasure did
they evince on coming out upon the firm turf which
covers the rising ground above The Huts! The
English get more of the sea air here, it is true, but
the Upper Cantereira, where, especially on Sunday
evenings, the natives grave and gay assemble by
hundreds, is not only a more social, but a level public
walk; whereas the English praia, as it is called,
might seem to have been selected for them by their
Portuguese shoemakers. But let us return to the
Portuguese bathing scene. Carriages of various
shapes, the lumberly family coach drawn by oxen,
the trim little gaudy post-chaise that looks to have
10
THE BATHERS
been “built in the year One," drawn by mules, rarely
by horses ; gay and painted litters, which are sedan-
chairs with mules instead of men for bearers, and all
alive with jingling bells, convey the wealthier bathers;
and are to be seen soon after daylight, crowded to-
gether on the bank, with servants and muleteers, and
ņumerous donkeys, that have also brought their
ourite day. The sands and the rocks are peopled
with groups of all classes; and there is not a group
among them which a Northern painter would not
seize with avidity as a subject for his art; so various
and striking are the features, and attitudes, and
costumes, and so different from anything we are
accustomed to in the North. This scene continues
from dawn till about mid-day. From that time till
two o'clock, that is, in the interval between the last
Mass and the usual dining hour of the richer class
of visitors, this same place is a sort of fashionable
lounge, where well-dressed ladies sit in rows on
wooden benches, and men stand round them, or
cluster on the rocks : and so they stare at each
other for two mortal hours, saying little, but looking
pins and needles at each other's hearts, from under
parti-coloured parasols, and brown or scarlet um-
brellas. Many a subtle flirtation is carried on
there, unsuspected by or connived at by the guardian
elders, fathers, mothers, aunts.' The Portuguese,
high and low, have great faith in the efficacy of a
course of sea baths, and all seem to think there is a
charm in exact numbers. The Fidalgo will on no
account cease from his dippings till his number,
whatever it may be, seventy or ninety, or more or
ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY
ll
less, is complete ; and the poor man who may be able
to spare only one day from daily labour will compress
his number into the twenty-four hours, taking forty or
fifty, or perhaps more dips in that space of time.
There is a charm in days, too, and the anniversary of
St. Bartholomew is among the poorer classes the
great day. This year it fell upon a Sunday, and the
concourse of people was immense. The shore was
literally covered with bathers, thick as they could
stand, for two or three miles. The process began.
before five o'clock A.M., and was on this day scarcely
ended at sunset. The peasants come from great
distances, are dressed in their holiday attire, and
strange as various were the costumes that presented
themselves to my English eye in our village, the Foz,
this day. The massive gold chains and ear-rings of
the women surprised me most; chain upon chain,
the weight of which must have been oppressive to
many a slender neck that I saw thus adorned. One
figure of a group that passed through the village
made even the Portuguese look round-a lady on a
fine black mule, attended by a gentleman on a very
handsome black horse, and followed by two running
footmen; and indeed they had to run to keep up
with the quick jog-trot of the animals. The Senhor
was dressed as any English gentleman might be
dressed for taking a ride on the Steyne at Brighton.
But his Senhora ! She was the wonder. Attired in
a rich, black silk, curiously fashioned, fitting tight to
the figure, and showing off the well-rounded waist;
on her head a large, square, clear white muslin ker-
chief richly embroidered round the edge, falling down
the back and below the shoulders, rather standing off
12
BOOTHS
from the shoulders, and upon this a round beaver
hat, of a shining jet black. The crown of the hat
was also round, with a little inclination to the sugar-
loaf shape; the brim might be three inches .wide.
The white kerchief did not appear on the forehead,
but came out from under the hat, just behind the
ears, leaving an unobstructed view of a pair of
magnificent gold ear-rings; the neck was encircled
by massive gold chains, one of which depended as
low as the waist.
Temporary wooden houses and booths covered
with canvas are erected on these occasions in the
yards of the vendas, or public-houses, on the shore
and in the streets; and there the peasants assemble
to take their refreshment, which consists principally
of bread and wine and fruit. Thousands are the
water-melons that appear and disappear on this day.
Here, too, they dance and make merry. The guitar
is the instrument most in use, but the fiddle and a
sort of drum are also very common; and what inde-
fatigable dancers are the Portuguese during their
festas! Day and night are alike to them. Repairs
were going on in some houses nigh to ours : the
workmen, who began their hammering at five in the
morning, and whose hammers at 8 P.M. were hardly
silent, were not too tired to join in the fun. In fact,
they began a dance among themselves as soon as
their work was ended, in the very rooms where they
had been working, and kept it up till past midnight.
most delight the boys and young men. On one
festival eve we heard rockets rapping off incessantly
all around us. That same night a certain fashionable
PYROTECHNIC MANIA
13
and wealthy tailor of Oporto was not content with
illuminating his house brilliantly and sending his
rockets up into the air, but he must send them down
into the street too, to see, for the fun of the thing,
the consternation they would cause among the
passers-by; and a rocket actually set fire to a lady's
petticoat as she was walking home from the opera.
Happily no serious injury was sustained, the alarm,
and the destruction of the dress proving the worst
of it. It is quite unsafe to ride about the streets
at these festa seasons. Mr. was on a spirited
horse, going leisurely up one of the narrowest streets
of the city about 3 P.M., the day very hot, and there-
fore he was holding up an umbrella to ward off the
sun, when, without the slightest warning, out rushes-
a little urchin from a gateway, and lets off a rocket
right in the face of the horse, which of course bolted
round, and it was little less than a miracle how our
friend escaped being crushed against one side of the
street or the other, the space that the horse bad for
turning being so confined.
Having dwelt so long upon the disagreeable effects
of rockets, I must be excused for describing one
scene in which they played no vulgar part. It was
at night; the signal gun of our English steamer
roused me from a deep sleep. I got up ; opened the
shutters. A full moon was shining brilliantly; the
white breakers of the bar were as visible as they
were audible ; beyond the bar, southwards, the sea
was a plain of burnished—not gold, nor yet silver,
but something between—which now glistened, now
1 Mr. —- may throughout the Journal' be taken to refer to Mr.
Quillinan.
14
SUNSETS
glittered, as the waves rolled gently along. To the
north all seemed wrapped in gloom ; but in that
direction my heart lay. I again looked anxiously
into the deep gloom, and a heave of some friendly
wave brought into view a galaxy of bright stars
floating upon the waters : it was as if a constellation
had come down from the heavens to rest upon these
waters. These were lights from the steamer. I
watched her long-now in sight, now out of sight,
now one twinkling star, then again the whole con-
an hour; when, from a point midway between the
vessel and the shore, and where before I had not
enchantment a pillar of fire, which, after ascending
to an immense height, made a graceful curve, broke,
and fell—not noiselessly-into the sea. This was a
rocket from the pilot's boat, on its return to land; a
signal that all was right, and that the steamer might
pursue her way, which she instantly did, as I suppose,
for not another star twinkled from the water's breast.
The light of the moon was so strong as to enable.
me to espy the brave little pilot-boat, as she recrossed
the white breakers of the bar--a black speck tossed
to and fro like a broken plank. What a spot is this
Foz for moon-risings and settings and shinings, and
for sunsets ! Well may the Portuguese have a tra-
dition that Noah came to Portugal purposely to see
a sunset ! and well may Camoens write of sunsets
as he does. But I will spare you my description of
such splendours as are hardly to be described, --
*For they are of the sky,
And from our earthly vision pass away.'
"OUR LADY OF GLAD TIDINGS'
15
But I must be allowed two or three pages to tell
of one or two of the pleasant rides that we took
during our six months' residence at the Foz. One
of the most invigorating, perhaps, was along the
sands to Matozinhos, fording the river Leça, skirting
the town of the same name, passing under the walls
of the castle, and so, still keeping to the sea-shore,
galloping on o'er rough and smooth for full three
miles, when all at once you are arrested by the sight
of two or three stone crosses poised high in the air,
which seem to rise from the top of a grand head-
land of rock that projects boldly into the sea. You
ascend this rugged height, find to your surprise a
plot of sloping greensward, and at one extremity of
this plot the smallest of small chapels, picturesque
in form, and bearing on its roof those crosses which
had puzzled us to guess whence they sprung. The
chapel is sheltered from the west by a towering por-
tion of the rock on which it is founded, but it is open
to the north and south. It is called "The Chapel of
Our Lady of Glad Tidings,' and glad tidings must
the sight of those touching crosses carry to the heart
of many a weary voyager by sea and land. Con-
tinuing your gallop for three or four miles further
along the sea-shore, you come to the spot where
.Don Pedro landed, and where a pillar is erected to
commemorate the fact.' Returning, as we did,
through the village of Mindelo, and there taking to
the pine woods, makes a pleasing variety in this long
ride, and the pine-wood rides are truly delicious.
You canter away along smooth sandy pathways, or
over firm turf, and every now and then some open-
ing in the wood gives you a view of the blue sea, the
16
ST. GENS-LORDELLO
blue made yet more blue by contrast with the dark
green of the pines ; and when a white sail, glittering
in the sunshine, chances to appear as it were
floating on the top of one of these dark table-pines,
or is framed in between their rich red stems, the
picture is magical. Another feature there is startlingly
affecting—the sound of the church bell, coming to
you at any moment, you know not whence; for when
riding through the lonely woods you cannot help
fancying yourself far away from the haunts of man.
Another interesting ride was to St. Gens, a little
chapel standing on a high hill that rises solitary from
a vast plain, commanding sea or land as far as the
eye can reach in every direction ; a most heart-
moving house of prayer-for there it stands on the
rocky eminence, lifting its crosses to the heavens,
exposed to every wind that blows, with no other
protection than that which two once fine, but now
time-weakened stone-pines may occasionally afford.
It was from under the walls of this chapel that Don
Miguel so anxiously watched his numerous troops
as they opposed, in the plain below, the small force
sent from the city by Don Pedro; and here Miguel
saw his soldiers defeated, and when they began to
run he threw down his telescope, and decamped.
To the city by the lower road, and back by
Lordello—the village which suffered so severely in
the siege, and which stills bears the mark of many a
cannon-ball-was a favourite ride of mine. The
lower road is very beautiful, and a most entertaining
thoroughfare of human life.
It runs parallel with the river, and close to it on
the right bank; rows of trees on each side, graceful
h
LOWER ROAD TO OPORTO
- 17
stone fountains, shaded by trees-generally weeping
willows. About these fountains are women and
children filling their pitchers. At the tank below
are the lavandeiras washing linen, rubbing and beat-
ing its life out on the hard stones, and singing
merrily in concert as they pursue their humble
calling. On the road men and boys are driving carts
drawn by two or more oxen, the heavy wooden
wheels creaking most horribly as they slowly revolve
with the lumbering axle-tree. The long dry see-
saw of an ass's bray'is melodious in comparison.
Picturesque figures are for ever passing to and
from the city; fish girls, fruit girls (their pretty
baskets always on their heads) tripping along with
a gay, light step, and hearts as light, if we might
judge from their bright looks and joyous voices, and
the cheerful greetings they gave us as we met.
Groups of fishermen are spreading out their nets to
dry, or sitting on the ground before their cottage
doors, in the full sunshine, mending them; little
children darting in and out of these same doors like
rabbits—and often more like the rabbit's enemy than
the rabbit-racing across the road, without a rag of
covering, to plunge headlong into the water from a
considerable height, and there to play for the hour like
so many water-spaniels. They rejoice in this sport
most when the tide is coming in great strength ;
and what roars of laughter burst from these little
fellows when half a dozen of them get knocked down
by a great wave, which carries them, in spite of
their puny resistance, high up on the shore and leaves
them there, sprawling on the sand, till a second
wave comes to make yet more sport. The river is
18
THE RIVER-BEGGARS
as much alive as the road: large vessels and small,
open boats, covered boats; the antique and most
picturesque barco of the Douro, too. Fancy a Chinese
shoe pointed at both ends, and you see something
like one of these machines. Then the scenery on the
river banks: one word on that subject, though the
banks of the Douro have been so often described.
The same objects may be seen in a thousand different
lights, and as variously represented, yet each picture
may be true and new ; but I will: only tell of what
struck me most: the hanging gardens with their
rich flowers, and vine-clad arbours, and terrace-walks
covered with trellis of vine, and the Quinta with its
overhanging roof and irregular outline, its verandahs
and mirante, and the churches and chapels and
chapel-yards, with their simple or elaborate stone
crosses crowning the topmost heights ; and here and
there a single table-pine growing out of the bare rock,
and resting its dark head against the blue sky, and
the city of Oporto “on its bluff and craggy hills
opposed by the heights of Villa Nova and the Serra
Convent, with the many-coloured Douro flowing
between.' But the beggars—say you nothing of
them? What can I say after the writer I have
already quoted? But I can vouch for the accuracy
of his report. They go on all through the day,
canting, whining; squalling, screaming at your door,
or within your porch, or on your staircase. It is of
little use to close your outer door, for they make no
ceremony of knocking till it be opened, nor will they
move from the place or cease their cant till the
surly voice of one of your servants stops them with,
“It cannot be now!”. We had another sort of beggar
PET PIG-PARROTS
19
at our portal, a pet pig. Swine are pets, and
cunningly knowing pets in Portugal. Ours was a
pretty, round, plump, short-legged little fellow, who
used to come grunting first at the outer door; if not
attended to there, he walked forward, and grunted
for some time in the hall, and if no notice was then
taken of him, he would mount two or three of the
steps, and there squeal and squeak until we went to
him, and he would not quit the place until some-
thing was given to him. Piggy was an epicure : he
evidently preferred the sweet melon to the water-
melon; but the seeds of the water-melon were what
he liked best of all the delicacies we hunted up for
him, unless it were sweet chestnuts; apples, too, he
was very fond of, and figs if they were ripe and good. -
He knew our voices perfectly, and whenever he
heard Mr. mam talking in the streets, and at a con-
siderable distance too, he would come running to
him, and he was unwilling to leave him until his
back had been gently rubbed with the foot or the
walking-stick; he gave a sort of grunt of thanks,
"while joyfully twinkled his tail,' and then he con-
tentedly withdrew. Pigs and parrots are to be seen
at almost every cottage door in the Foz, and both
are free of the house, to go in and out when they
please. This is not quite correct as to the parrots, for
I observed they were not unfrequently chained to the
top of the half-door, or to some other place appro-
priated to them near the door or window. Perhaps
these chained birds were not yet quite tame enough
to be trusted with liberty, or may-be their mistresses
might fear their being stolen. The Portuguese and
Gallegos are a little given to petty larceny. Untold gold
C 2
20
SERVANTS
is perfectly safe left upon your table, but you must
keep good watch over your sideboard and your store-
room keys, and it is well, too, to have your wardrobe
locked. The Galicians make most pleasant servants,
so obliging and so courteous; and my small experi-
ence of the Portuguese maid-servants leads me to
speak in like terms of them. In sickness nothing
can surpass their tender and watchful care and
attentions : of this I can speak from my own ex-
perience, and all the English with whom I talked
years in Portugal, confirmed my impression, though
too ready, as we English ever are, to find grievous
faults with any person and thing out of our own
country.
The Portuguese are certainly an industrious
people. I have already spoken of the stone-masons
who were employed next door to us, and the clink
of whose hammers and chisels was to be heard from
sunrise till sundown. The men rested at nine
o'clock for one half-hour to take a second breakfast;
then they set to again, and no cessation till half-
past twelve. At two they began again, and went on
till after sunset; and this, day by day, till their
work was ended. I was surprised to observe that
the workmen courted rather than shunned the
burning sun; for the blocks of granite which they
were hewing into shape were all arranged on the
sunny side of the street, when it would have been
equally convenient to themselves and the passers-by
to have had them placed in the shade. I must say
a word or two of the industry of the women, and
this is best done by stating exactly what came
OUR FOUNTAIN-NYMPH
21
under my own observation. The occupation of the
woman I am about to give as an example was to
drive away the little thieves of birds from a crop
of Indian corn in a field adjoining our garden, and
extending up a steep slope towards the lighthouse.
This woman got up with the birds (before four o'clock)
and went to bed with the birds (about eight), and
never left the birds all day, but ran to and fro across
the sloping ground under a burning sun, or a bluster-
ing wind, or a pelting rain, never once resting her
poor legs, so far as I could discover, and I chanced
at the time to be confined by illness to a room that
overlooked this field. She was busy the while, too,
with hand and voice; one loud shrill note was for
ever repeated, to an instrumental accompaniment
not more harmonious—a sort of watchman's rattle.
Another instance I may quote, of a tall, handsome
young girl who came daily to the house where we
were staying. She acted as the aguadeira, the
water-carrier, bringing from the fountain all the
spring water that was required for the day; helping
in the garden, weeding or watering; and willing and
ready at any moment to be sent up to the city, three
miles off, on any sort of errand. Thither she went
regularly every other morning; let the weather be
what it might, she was off before four o'clock, and
home again by eight or nine, bringing on her head, in
a large basket, everything used or consumed in the
house, except coal. On her return she would sit
down for a quarter of an hour whilst she ate her
breakfast, then away to the fountain, and if nothing
more were required from her, she hastened to her
mother's humble cottage ; and call there at any
22
FEMALE INDUSTRY
hour when she was not out in some other person's
service, you were sure to find her busy with her
spindle and distaff, or with her knitting.
The Portuguese knit beautifully, and so very
rapidly; and we English might take a lesson from
two movements with the hand, instead of three,
as is our mode. The Germans have only two, I
believe; but here the manner of holding the thread
is different from the German. The needles differ, too;
those of the Portuguese are much bent, and have a
little hook at the end to catch the thread and draw
it through. The Portuguese are very neat needle-
women also ; but this is a digression.
I must' return to our industrious 'Camilla,' for
that was her name. She thought nothing of going
even twice up to the city in a morning, and strange
burdens did she sometimes bear on her head-at
least, what seemed strange to us, fresh from Eng-
land; one of these was the half of a large heavy
window. The windows in many of the Portuguese
houses are real plagues, being constructed in that
requires a prop for the under-sash when it is lifted
up for the admission of air. One stormy day an
awful crash was heard; we hastened to the quarter
whence the sound came and found that the prop
of a window had given way, and the sash had
come down with such violence that four of the large
panes of glass were forced out and had fallen in
shivers into the street. 'Send for Camilla to go up
to the city,' and, as I supposed, to fetch the glazier;
but no, the window was to go to the glazier, and not
WAGES-FOOD-PRICES
23
COM
the glazier to come to the window; and sure enough
the clumsy frame was taken out, put upon Camilla's
head, and away she walked with it to Oporto, got it
mended, and brought it back. This woman is but
one instance, you may say; but every gentleman's
house in the Foz would tell you of its aguadeira and
carreteira as industrious as ours. The wages are
very low. That woman who laboured from morning
till night in the field would not receive more than
3d. (English) a day. The wages of the men (out-
door labour) about 5d. ; mechanics, such as stone-
masons, carpenters, &c., about 10d. Then it must
be remembered that broa, the yellow gritty bread
made of Indian corn and rye, is very cheap ; so are
fruits and vegetables and wine. Here, too, by the-
sea, the people have seasonable supplies of fresh fish
at moderate cost, besides their salted sardinhas. A
vast quantity of bacalhao, or salted cod-fish from
Newfoundland, very cheap food, is consumed also
by the mariners and labouring classes, and served
out as rations to the soldiery. At Oporto the
average price of the best meat was 4d. per lb. when
we were there. Up in the country the best pieces
of beef may be had for 2d. or 3d. Eggs and poultry
are plentiful, and consequently, are low-priced, which
is well, as calda de gallinha (chicken-broth) is the
sovereign remedy · for every ill the spittals know.'
Newly hatched chickens you see running about the
cottage doors every week in the year. Mutton is
held by the Portuguese and Galicians in little esteem;
some of the too well fed Gallegos in English houses
go so far as to say it is not fit food for Christians;
and, however good the dinner that may be set
24
FOOD-CLOTHING
1
before them, unless they have their proper portion of
boiled beef (but not boiled quite to rags like the
French bouilli), they are much dissatisfied ; and yet
these very men, were they to return to their own
homes, would dine contentedly on a piece of salt
fish, dry and hard and tough as leather, or on a few
sardinhas~-cured pilchards. On their days of
abstinence they live much on vegetable soup: the
pumpkin and the vegetable marrow make a capital
soupe maigre for the poorest. You see acres of land
covered with these plants. In the autumn, and late
into the winter, how often did I stop to admire the.
green and golden tints of this magnificent fruit-
vegetable, as it was ranged round the low walls of
their eiras, or on the roofs of the cottages. Interesting
objects, likewise, are those eiras, where the threshed
corn is laid out in the open air to dry, and where
the women turn over the grain with the bare feet.
article of food as to the Scotch and Germans; every
hovel has its cabbage-garden--but such cabbages! I
have seen them again and again 'broad and stately,'
and ten feet high at least. Potatoes are, I under-
stood, but little used by the native poor.
The wages of the poor, then, are small, it is true ;
but happily their wants too are small, and, so far as
I could gather, there is no such thing as absolute
starving poverty, as in England. One grand advan-
tage that the poor of Portugal have over ours is their
glorious climate. They require little fuel and little
clothing; the latter is principally of coarse woollen
cloth, and this they spin themselves, as they do any
linen they may require. The women who carry on
PIGS-DOGS
25
their heads poultry, fruit, &c., to the market, spin as
they go; and they sit too, like the men, at their doors,
in the full sunshine, spinning, or knitting, or sewing,
while their young ones, half naked, are playing about
them, and rolling in the sand like little pigs. By
the way, though our pet pig of the Muses' was
a very pretty pig—a quaint Chinese—the porkers of
this neighbourhood are generally hideously ugly,
immense creatures with great long ears, long backs,
rising in the centre like an arch, hollow flanks, and
covered with a long softish sort of black hair, but so
little of it as to show distinctly the black skin
beneath; and yet the cottagers make pets of these
creatures, and they answer to names, and come at call
like dogs, and are quite as fond of being talked to
and caressed. Almost every house has its dog, too,
and a plaguy nuisance these curs are. At the Foz,
and in the suburbs of Oporto, they come barking at
your horse's heels out of one door after another, till
you get a whole pack upon you before you reach
the end of the street, and if they leave you there
you will find another pack awaiting you in the next
street, you may be sure. A year or two ago the
magistrates, in order to abate this nuisance, offered
so much for the head of every vagrant dog that
might be found without its responsible owner in the
street. Heads of dogs in plenty were produced for
the reward at the police-office; and the dog-decapi-
tation trade prospered for some days, till it was
discovered that not a head nor a hair had suffered of
any of the mongrels against which the canine edict
was issued, but every gentleman's dog that could be
seized, and all the ladies' lapdogs that could be
26
LIFE AT THE FOZ
caught, had been the victims. Of cats, also, there
are enough; but it is difficult to recognise the
relationship between our long-tailed pert-eared
tabbies of England and these earless, tailless cats of
Oporto. It is the fashion to cut off their ears and
tails; they are the better mousers for such clipping,
it is supposed. When I once remonstrated against
such a barbarous practice, I was answered by a
query which was unanswerable : "Is it more bar-
barous than your English fashion of docking your
horses' tails, and your dogs' tails and ears too?'
It might be edifying to some of the London
world, who dine at night and rise at midday, to hear
a history of a day at the Foz-this fashionable
watering-place of the North of Portugal. They will
be startled at the outset, for they must hear of ser-
vants knocking at the sleeping-room door soon after
5 A.M., and of merry voices under the window even
before that hour-merry voices from the bathers and
their attendants passing to and from the sea. The
place is alive with 'fashionables 'soon after sunrise,
and thus continues till nine o'clock, the usual break-
fast hour. When they retire, the vendors of fish,
poultry, game, fruits, flowers, oil, charcoal, candles,
shoes, shawls, sweetmeats, chocolate, and a long et
cetera, keep up the bustle till three o'clock, the
common dinner-hour. After that the sesta—and
then the streets would be tolerably quiet, but for the
noisy beggars. Before five o'clock the village is
again astir, with ladies on foot or on donkey-back,
gentlemen on foot or on horseback, children and
their nursery-maids and nursery-men, infants under
three years old, three or four on one donkey, followed
LIFE AT THE FOZ
27
by two or three running footboys and old nurses-all
bound for the praia, the sea-shore, and the rocks ;
there to loiter about, to flirt, and amuse themselves
as might suit the age and fancy of each. The sun
has long set before these crowds of people return to
their homes. The Portuguese have, certainly, no
. dread of remaining out after sunset, or of exposing
themselves to the night air in their balconies; at
these they sit and talk with their friends about them,
or with such as may chance to pass, till nearly mid-
night. Some of them are, I fear, gentlemen return-
ing from an adjacent club-house, alias gambling-
house.
It was between the hours of 4 and 5 P.M. that
we set out on those delightful rides to which I have
alluded. On our first arrival in Portugal we rode
before breakfast; but that we soon gave up, for we
found the sun too powerful even by eight o'clock.
The ride under such a sun made idlers of us for the
day; so we contented ourselves with doing as our
neighbours did, keeping to the seaside and near home.
Dinner parties, dances, tea-drinks among the rocks,
riding parties and picnics were taking place every
day; and pleasant parties all these were—for the
hours were early, and there was no trouble of pre-
paration, except for the cooks, as even the dances
were attended in undress. But the riding parties and
the picnics were the most charming; and, oh, the
comical scenes and the comical adventures! What
food for Punch!
I will now give an account of the most extensive
of our rides from the Foz, a tour of the province
entre Douro e Minho. This fertile province, the
28
ENTRE DOURO E MINHO
smallest except Algarve, and the most populous, and'.
perhaps the most interesting, in all Portugal, extends
to the length only of eighteen leagues from north to
south, and is twelve leagues in its extremest breadth
from east to west at the utmost. It is bounded on
the north by the river Minho, which separates it
from Galicia ; on the west, by the Atlantic Ocean;
on the south, by the Douro, that divides it from the
province of Beira ; and on the east, partly by Galicia,
and partly by Tras os Montes. It abounds with.
streams which, with a good soil and fair climate,
account for its great fertility and the luxuriant
growth of its trees.
It is, or was, distributed into five comarcas, or
Guimaraens; to which a sixth may be added, by
counting Braga and its ecclesiastical district as an-
other. It comprised 1,500 parish churches, an arch-
bishopric at Braga (which stands in the very centre
of this charming district), a bishopric at Oporto, and
it did comprise till recently five collegiate churches,
nearly 130 convents of nuns and friars, whose number
exceeded 3,000. It has, or had, 500 chapels and
shrines (ermidas e santuarios), and several hospitals
and charitable institutions.
Its principal rivers, besides the Douro and Minho,
from which it takes its name, are the Rio d'Ave, the
Cavado, and the Lima. There are many minor rivers
and streams, some of which will be noticed as they
occur on our route.
But I will here say a few more words on the
Douro, before we turn our backs on it for a while to
make acquaintance with its northern cousin, the
THE DOURO
29
Minho. The Douro (Spanish Duero; called by the
Greeks Aópios, by the Latins Durius) has its source
in the mountains of Urbion (anciently Pelendones) in
Old Castile, and passing by Soria (as probably as
any other the site of Numantia) it runs westward
by Osma, Aranda, and Roa, receiving the rivers
Pisuerga, Eresma, and others. It traverses Leon,
dividing it into two parts, and, after flowing through
or by the towns of Simancas, Tordesillas, Toro, and
Zamora, serves as a boundary between Leon and
Portugal for several leagues, bathing the walls of
Miranda, and receiving the waters of the Tormes,
the Mansuecos, the Huebra, &c. Presently, at the
. confluence of the Agueda, it enters Portugal, sepa-
rates the provinces of Beira and Tras os Montes,
receiving from the latter the rivers Sabor, Tua, Corgo,
and others, and also several little tributaries from
Beira, which province it also divides from that of
Entre Douro e Minho, whose fine river Tamega soon
adds to its flood, so that it rolls with an impetuous
current, over a rocky channel and between rocky
banks, with many sinuosities and with frequent
rapids, till, before it meets the tide, it checks its
haste, glides placidly (unless after a flood, here called
a fresh ') between Oporto and Villa Nova, and their
suburbs Massarellos and Gaya, and at our bathing-
place of San João da Foz, pushes over the bar into
the ocean.
A 'fresh 'is sometimes occasioned by an unusual
duration of the season of very heavy rains, and some-
times by the excess of suddenly melted snows, or by
both causes combined, in the Spanish mountains, &c.
Such an accident is not frequent, not even annual:
30
A FRESH
but when it does come it is a most inconvenient
encroachment, swelling the river to such a degree
that the cellars and ground floors of the lower parts
of Oporto and Villanova are inundated; and the
power of the flood is then so great that the old
bridge of boats (now superseded by a suspension iron
bridge) was sure to be carried away, if the warning
given by the weather and the altered state of the
water was not attended to for its timely removal. I
have heard an odd adventure of an English gentle-
man, who, on the way to his wine-lodge, was crossing
that pontoon-bridge when it gave way, and he found
himself all at once embarked on a seaward voyage
on one of the boats that had broken loose. Clear,
however, of the perils of hawsers and cables and -
shipping at anchor, and of all obstructions and intri-
cacies of the river navigation, the truant bark piloted
itself rarely, till, just as the astonished man had lost
all hope of escaping the roaring bar, the boat whirled
off and grounded, with a shock that made him de-
scribe a summerset, and he found himself almost
buried, but high and dry, in the soft sands of the
Cabedello. Generally mischief was prevented by
detaching the boats when a 'fresh 'was expected, and
mooring them safely till the peril was over. He
who saw the Douro at such a time only, or even after
a succession of moderate rains, would call it a coarse
and muddy river ; but he would be much mistaken
—for it is, during the greater portion of the year, as
clear as can be wished; and the sunsets on it are
often delightful, adorning its surface with a fine
variety of colours here as if with polished silver,
there with a rich saffron colour; here violet or
TRAVELLING PARTY
:
31
amethystine, there jasper-as if all the gems had been
fused and interfused by that powerful sun into every
exquisite harmony of hue, and light, and shade. This
river, though narrower than the Tagus, and seventy
or eighty miles shorter, runs in a deeper channel, and
having, perhaps, more copious tributaries, carries
much more water to the sea, whence the proverb
quoted by Barros-
O Douro leva as aguas, o Tejo as nomeadas.'
“The Douro has the waters, the Tagus has the fame.'
In Claudian's time the margins of the Douro
abounded with flowers. So they do still.
Gallacia risit
Floribus, et roseis formosus Duria ripis.'
And, as the old Galicia here mentioned comprised
also the Minho country, the praise stands good for
the land which we are now going to explore.
On May 24 we set out at 7 A.M., too late an hour.
Our party consisted of two ladies, two gentlemen, a
Galician servant, and a muleteer. Our horses were
all hired. J l was mounted on a well-bred
black horse that was rather fond of kicking; my
steed was quite as good as hers, and much more
amiable. Both these animals were in a fair condition.
Mr. — rode on a high-bred and handsome, but old
and spavined, white horse, and Mr. H— was perched
on a tall brown Rosinante, whose hip-bones protruded
awfully. One baggage-mule (and a baggage she
turned out to be) carried all our travelling gear,
including not only carpet-bags, but hammock-nets,
&c. Yet she had but a moderate load, for our
1 Miss Jemima Quillinan.
32
ROADS
marching orders' were, ' Leave all your bandboxes
at home, and take nothing that you can do without.'
Our trusty Galician went cheerfully on foot, and the
muleteer was also to walk. This was no splendid
turn-out, but 'economy is the life of the army,' said
Mr. --, who was our commanding officer. For a
while we got on pretty well over rough and smooth;
but the rough predominates in Portuguese travelling,
and though there are now several good roads about
Oporto, this way to Villa do Conde was not one of
them. It was detestable, almost from the starting-
point. In one part, where, as often occurs, a jumble
of stones forms a causeway two feet wide as a
bridge for one side of the road, while the rest is a
swamp or a bog, J-- valiantly took the causeway,
but when she had got about half-way over 'the bad
place,' the stones seeming more and more wide apart
from each other, she took fright at her own courage,
gave her horse a sudden jerk, and brought him down
into the swamp. He began kicking, which made his
fore-legs sink deeper and deeper into the mire.
Miss cried out, 'Oh dear!' and seemed deter-
mined to cry and fall off ; but the servant rescued
her, and brought her horse out in safety from this
perilous Slough of Despond. We proceeded along
narrow roads, where were plenty of great stones
and plenty of holes, now dusty, now miry, between
stone walls, within which were rows of pollard oaks,
vine-wreathed ; through pine-woods-gloomy woods
they are, and few birds love them, but we heard the
cuckoo in one of them. We passed many picturesque
clumps of cork-trees, many pleasant varieties of ver-
dure, and abundance of wild flowers.
VILLA DO CONDE
33
Villa do Conde stands on a flat near'the mouth
of the river Ave. Some writers affirm that it is of
very ancient foundation, and that its name was
Villa Comitis. Others say that it was founded by
Sancho I. in the year 1200. The huge nunnery of
Santa Clare is a fine building, and a still more
striking object is the superb aqueduct that conveyed
fair water from far-off well springs to the noble lady-
nuns, whose fingers were famed for expertness in
the art of making sweet pastry: Beautiful view of
this nunnery and aqueduct from the street, where an
old church of arabesque Gothic comes in as part of
the picture, with gay green trees about the church,
and blue hills far behind the town.
I forgot, and it is hardly worth while to recollect,
that at Povoa, a fishing village, and in the season
an inferior sea-bathing place, less than an hour's easy
ride from Oporto, if the road had been a road, our
muleteer had the modesty to inform us, with an autho-
ritative air, that there we were to halt till next day, at
a wretched venda or winehouse ! A comical alterca-
tion ensued between the man and Mr. —- J 's
horse took the man's part, and plunged violently, as if
he too had made up his mind to proceed no further.
Mr. --, who soon perceived that he had no chance
in argument with the muleman, who had found the
wine good here, and was fiercely eloquent, quietly
ordered Grenho, our Galician, to go on with the
mule. But the mule would not budge. The affair
was getting unpleasantly ridiculous, for a crowd was
gathering about us. A priest luckily came up, and
with all the urbanity becoming his calling, settled
the matter in two minutes. What he said to the
34
MULE AND MULEMAN
muleteer I hardly know, but the few words he ad-
dressed to the wine-possessed man appeared to exor-
cise him. Mr. —- changed horses with J— , and
we arrived in due time at Villa do Conde; and, after
waiting there for a reasonable time, we resumed our
journey. The baggage-mule at one ugly place was
inclined to have a roll in a mud pond, which would
have been delectable for our changes of linen ; but
the muleteer remonstrated with her, and continued
for a mile or two to lecture her severely, and the
mule had nothing to say for herself. We passed
twice under the aqueduct. We had a long and very
hot and very fatiguing ride to Barcellos, over a hilly
country; and what a silent country it is! There
are cultivated valleys surrounded by gloomy hills of
pine, but you meet hardly a human being. Old
cork-trees are scattered here and there, single or in
clumps-old, I say, for every cork-tree that I see
looks, like Wordsworth's thorn, as if it never had
been young'; and this tree has not yet shed half of
its brown wintry foliage, which, though the spring
is nearly over, seems unwilling to yield place to
the new leaves-small, glossy leaves, sloe-leaf like.
Shabby olive-trees abound: they are like the willow
we call “sally.' Oak pollards you perceive in every
direction, and on every one of them a bright green
vine twining and flaunting. The magnificent hill
boundary is in parts nakedly rocky, but most of it,
as I have said, is covered with the eternal stone-
pines, which, in the nearer masses, look in their dis-
tinct blackness more like thunder-clouds than green
trees, but far away they are dimly hazily blue, till
the outline melts into the bluer sky. Part of this
BARCELLOS
35
ride, as we approached Barcellos, was almost as good
as a ride in any of the rougher parts of Westmoreland,
and perhaps would have been quite so but for the
want of lakes and trotting burns.' At Barcellos,
however, the river is beautiful, and so are the views,
up and down, from the old stone bridge that rests
on its five or six arches over the Cavado; and what
a fine old town Barcellos is! The inn is detestable,
but that is nothing : it is like almost all the rest in
the country.
Next day we breakfasted at eight, on chocolate
with milk, fresh eggs, bread and honey. The gentle-
letter. They found him at one of the old churches,
in command of the military guard that was to attend
a procession. He very obligingly promised to show
us the lions when his church militant duty was over.
Our friends then called on a Fidalgo, to whom we
had a letter from a prebendary of Braga. Our
Fidalgo, a fine-looking man of middle age, received
them with much politeness, told them his house was
at their service, regretted that his wife, who spoke
English, and his mother, were both ill, and that the
other ladies of his family were not dressed; assured
them that we were at the very worst inn in the
place, showed them his dining-room, and did not ask
them to dinner. Here appearances were against
the hospitality of the Fidalgo; yet nothing could be
farther from the truth than that he was inhospitable,
as we soon found. He also showed them something
much better than his dining-room (though that was
very good, as was his house altogether)--an orna-
mental garden ; some of the beds nothing but box in
D 2
36
BARCELLOS
fantastical knots, stiff, but very pretty; beds of
flowers disposed with indescribable ingenuity; topiary
fancies numberless, and all graceful. From a covered
balcony at the back of his house, as well as from
his garden, were striking views over the Cavado, of
the rich country to the south ; on the right the
famed Franqueira summit; three leagues away to the
left, Nosso Senhor do Monte, the holy hill near
Braga. After paying a visit to the best inn at Barcel-
hinos on the other side of the river, near the bridge,
to assure themselves that there was such a house,
and to whet their appetite for anger against the ill-
conditioned muleteer who had quartered us at the
worst, when it was too late to look out for ourselves,
our gentlemen returned to us, and found us at a
balcony, looking at the procession, and all the bustle
of a fair; for this was a great gala-day at Barcellos.
The clatter of voices in the Square, from the motley,
happy throng that filled it, was to us Babel out
babbled, though but one tongue was spoken. Such
a contrast to the stillness of the pine woods yesterday!
St. George, the hero of the day, a wooden figure in
painted armour of bronze colour, was unwilling to
carry his lance, and the horse was unwilling to
carry St. George. His attendants were half an hour
settling this matter; but at last the lance was
steadied in St. George's hand, but St. George rode
very unsteadily on the shy led horse, who seemed to
doubt whether he had got the saint or the dragon
on his back. Marshalled by this mock Master of the
Horse, came a gigantic and coarsely painted figure
of Christ, dressed in canonicals, and borne on a sort
of trestle on men's shoulders. He was crowned
BARCELLOS
37
with à most gorgeous wreath of thornless roses :
there was something touching in that fancy, amidst
all the worse than bad taste of the exhibition.
When it was over, Senhor G- , true to his
engagement, came to us, and with him the Fidalgo,
already mentioned, came to pay his respects to the
ladies, and to invite us, on the part of his wife, and
mother, and daughters, to a little ball, which they
had suddenly determined on getting up for us in
honour of our letter of recommendation. This was
a proffered civility much more marked than an in-
vitation to dinner would have been, and if we had
accepted it, would have put the truly hospitable
inviters' to much more trouble and expense. We
declined it, because we felt that we had no spare
strength to waste on dancing, but must husband
what we had for the hard work before us. I have
since thought that it was a stupid spiritless thing to
refuse the ball. Our gentlemen thought it very stupid
indeed, and accused us of jealousy of the black eyes
of the female fidalguia of Barcellos. No doubt we
should have met as much of the best company of
the place as could have been collected on a brief
summons, and we should have added something to
our small stock of knowledge of Portuguese pro-
vincial society at home. But, besides the reason I
have given, I must own that I was shy. My want
of skill in the spoken language made me sure that I
should bore and disappoint the kindness of our in-
viters. Some misgivings about the toilet, too, might
have flitted before me, when I begged to be excused.
Carpet-bags are sorry wardrobes for ladies, and we
had no other. The Fidalgo was so evidently dis-
38
THE FRANQUEIRA HILL
appointed at our declining the kind bidding, that we
took pains to assure him of our sense of his courtesy,
and we parted, I hope, good friends. Towards even-
ing, Senhor Gm accompanied us on a ride to the
Franqueira Convent (that was) and the church above
it, on the top of a steep height which commands a
great prospect of hills, plains, and sea; the mountain
Gerêz in the distance, and Nosso Senhor do Monte,
near Braga, distinctly visible. We saw also what
we supposed to be, and was, the M- steamer on
its way to England. Our friend B was on
board, and our letters for home; and so, while stand-
ing on that height, our thoughts steered homeward
too, at more than steamship pace.
In Senhor G- , our guide to the Franqueira,
we found not only a most obliging, but a highly
intelligent companion. He had been an exile in
Don Miguel's time, and had resided three years at
Exeter. He still spoke English well. On our return
to the inn, the gentlemen insisted on his helping us
all out with a bottle of his own present of champagne;
for he had sent us some half-dozen bottles in the
morning, and also two bottles of Scotch ale, which
one of our two cavaliers stowed away for future
service as a juice, far more precious in this latitude
than champagne, or even than tokay. Put that
down in your journal,' said Mr. — “What?'
• The two bottles of ale, and the good fellow who sent
them to us.' So here they are duly recorded. Be-
fore Senhor G- had left us, a person from Ponte
de Lima was shown up to us; he had been sent by
Senhor M— and his family, who had been expect-
ing us for the last two or three days, and somehow
BARCELLOS TO PONTE DE LIMA
39
or other had been informed of our arrival at Bar-
cellos. By the advice of Senhor G we had
resolved to go to Viana first, and thence up the river
to Ponte de Lima. But this messenger represented
that it would be a great disappointment to Senhor
M— if we did not go direct to his house. We
therefore changed our plan.
May 26.
• We were not ready for a start till after eight this
morning. When the luggage was adjusted on the
mule, J—-, who had been the first to mount, was
moving out of the way, at which the mule became
uneasy, thinking, said the surly muleteer, that her
favourite white horse was going to leave her; so
there was a kick or two, and a successful struggle to
break the halter by which she was tethered to the
wall; another wicked kick or two dislodged the
luggage, and down came the stupid mule, bruising
one of her knees and her side; and our things lay
all littered about the ground. Mr. —— was alarmed
for the champagne-flasks, and yet more for the two
bottles of Edinburgh ale; but he had had them
packed so cunningly in a covered basket, that they
were all safe. After some coaxing, and reproaches,
and expostulation, the mule suffered herself to be
re-loaded; but still the cargo was not nicely
balanced, and she winced, and went awry, and gave
symptoms of meditated mutiny. The muleteer, who
looked frightened, now assured us that she wanted a
man on her back to make the baggage ride more
steadily, and he desired our man Grenho to mount."
On the first day's march from Oporto to Barcellos,
he and the muleteer had trudged about thirty-five
40
HOW TO QUIET A MULE
miles, and we were sorry that we had not been more
liberal in this part of our arrangements, and taken
another mule that they might ride and tie, though
it is the common custom of the country for the
attendants to go on foot on such journeys. Grenho
would, on the first day, gladly have mounted, but the
muleteer would not let him; but now that the mule
had betrayed her vicious character, he declined the
honour of riding. In a little while, however, the
animal seeming quieter, he was emboldened, and con-
trived to get on her, after several failures. The mule's
feelings being thus composed by the additional weight
of twelve or thirteen stone, we proceeded without
further accident through a highly interesting country.
The mixture of cultivation and wildness, the
farmed valleys and the rough serras, the varieties
of verdure and of flowers, the gloom of pine-trees
that clan like rooks in thousands, and the various
shades, and sometimes lights, of green, of the
other cone-bearing families; and the cypresses,
cedars, and cork-trees : the classical and fruitful,
but at present only flowerful, insignificant-looking
olive-trees; the churches and oratories, with their
stone crosses on every high pinnacle, as well as on
hill-sides and in the valleys; and lastly, the beaute-
ous and rich vale of the Lima, with mountain back-
ground whichever way you looked ; the graceful river
Lima itself, with its old long bridge, the picturesque
small town, the quintas, the decayed mansions of
Fidalgos, the very ancient buildings and remains of
buildings in and near the town, all combined to give
memorable effect to our journey this day. Our host,
Senhor M—-,met us about half a league from Ponte.
PORTUGUESE HOSPITALITY
41'.
We rode under a long and capital ramada through
his estate, which was in high and clean cultivation,
along the pleasant banks of the Lima, to his house
in the town, the best in the place. He received not
only ourselves, but the servants and quadrupeds, in
spite of our entreaties that they should be sent to
the inn. His wife and children also gave us an evi-
dently cordial welcome. We dined shortly after our
arrival, which was about 2 P.M. The party consisted
of sixteen persons, including our host and hostess,
their son, a youth of fifteen, and daughter, about
fourteen, a Senhor C—- and his sister, and other
Portuguese. Our host had been in England, and the
bill of fare will show that he gave us, in fact, some-
thing very like a good plain English dinner. Two
soups, bread-soup and macaroni, two dishes of trout,
boiled beef and bacon and a ham, roasted chicken,
roasted turkey, &c., the boiled things first, then
the roast, then sweetmeats and pastry, then cheese
and fruit; white and red wines, and French liqueur,
pretty much in the order in which such things are
served at an English table.
After dinner we walked with our host and Senhor
C—- to a handsome but neglected looking quinta,
formerly the residence of the Conde de Freire, one of
the ministers of John VI. We passed the house of
the brotherhood of San Luiz, to which Fra Francisco
de San Luiz belonged, the Bispo Conde, who was more
than once president of the chamber of peers. He was
Bishop of Coimbra, the author of some statistical works
on Portugal, and other esteemed writings, and was
considered one of the most learned men of his time.
We also saw in the town a house of the Silveiras,
42
DIOGO BERNARDES
and an old mansion of the same family on a hill at
a distance. The name will recall a nobleman who
made a noise in this country a few years ago, the
Marquis of Chaves ; a madman he was, say the new
chartermongers-a varão—a man he was, like the
Silveiras of old times, say those to whom old-
fashioned bigotries are dearer than new-fangled
inconsistencies.
I had not time to learn anything worth relating
about certain venerable edifices of Ponte de Lima ;
aristocratic houses, every one of which must have a
history, square towers, old palace, Moorish mosque,
still entire, and now a chapel; and I had nothing
like an authentic book old or new at hand, to give.
me some glimmering of insight into their mysteries.
On the banks of the Lima the poet Diogo
Bernardes was born, one of the too numerous,
but one of the best pastoral poets of Portugal.
His compositions are not free from the sameness
and a tameness that characterise the peninsular
literature in this vein. His numbers flow very
sweetly: but I am not sure that either in his
eclogues or in his love lyrics there is much more
of real tenderness perceptible than can be found
in other Arcadian effusions. His true love of his
native place, however, is unquestionable. It is
shown perpetually in his writings, one volume of
which he called “The Lima,' the other 'Flowers of
the Lima.' When one hears him apostrophise a
shepherdess on the margin of this river-
Oh, Nisė, Nisè, Lima, Lima, Lima,
one cannot but suspect that the heroine of his
THE POET OF THE LIMA
43
raptures is as ideal a personage as the nymph of the
stream, and that the poetic stream itself is the sole
source of his inspiration. Whatever the quality of
that inspiration may be, however, Lope de Vega has
declared that he was taught to compose pastoral verse
by the eclogues of Bernardes. One might suppose
the 'Sweet songster of the Lima,' so he has been
styled, to have passed a dreamy existence on its
borders. Yet he was a man of the world, and lived
in the world; he was not only a poet, but a courtier,
who knew how to rise at court. He was contem-
porary with Camoens, and has been accused, but I
believe unjustly, of having plagiarised some of his
minor writings. Certain, however, it is, that both
as a poet and a courtier he gained personal dis-
tinctions which Camoens never gained; among them
the peculiar favour of his young sovereign Sebastian,
who assigned to him the honour-unenviable as it
turned out of accompanying him on his expedition
to Africa, as the poet of victories there to be achieved.
Camoens had almost solicited this honour at the
conclusion of his noble epic. Bernardes, before the
expedition sailed, wrote a sonnet, anticipatory of the
triumphs that he was to witness. Both poets proved
false prophets; Camoens stayed at home to die
broken-hearted, thanking God that he died with his
country.' Bernardes was taken prisoner on the field
where Sebastian fell, and his 'Carmen Triumphale'
ended in a dirge. After severe sufferings—the
sufferings of a Christian slave in Barbary-he was
ransomed and returned to Lisbon, where he died in
1596, having survived his king about eighteen years,
and outlived Camoens but a few months less.
44
SOIRÉE
YI
May 27.
We did not breakfast till eleven o'clock, for some
of our party consoled themselves for the fatigues of
travel by sleeping till nearly that hour, not aware
that all the family, though early risers, were politely
fasting till their guests appeared, and would not
suffer them to be disturbed. No Scotch breakfast
was ever better than ours to-day. Coffee, tea, beef-
steaks, quince marmalade, and other sweetmeats,
with bread as white as milk. The table was taste-
fully decorated with flowers. We passed our morn-
ing—or, rather, afternoon—in sketching, lounging,
sauntering, and the dolce far niente, which was really
dolce to the wearied limbs of J-- and myself, who .
were new campaigners. We dined about five, and
in the evening the drawing-room was filled with
visitors, invited by our hostess. The beauty of the
ladies was not so remarkable as their affability and
lively good-humour. There was not a pretty girl
among them; but every one of them had good teeth,
dark eyes, and jet-black hair. They were all dressed
nearly alike-plainly, in black. Some of the young
men were better looking, but they were more reserved,
had more starch in their manner, than their sisters.
Two or three of the young ladies played difficult
pieces, of Italian music from recent and fashionable
operas, admirably on the piano. One of the young
gentlemen, after much solicitation by the lady of the
house, overcame his bashfulness, and sang, with
good voice and good taste, several very pretty though
melancholy and rather monotonous modinhas. But
the star of the night was Senhor Jeronymo, a pro-
WILL YOU WRITE ?
45
fessor of music, who had been a pupil of a celebrated
pianist, Senhor Bom Tempo (Good Time)-no bad
name for a musician. Senhor Jeronymo performed
on the pianoforte with exquisite delicacy, but one of
the ladies present, a maiden lady of about forty,
continued exclaiming every minute, · Bravo, Senhor
Jeronymo !-ah! Bravo, Senhor Jeronymo !! The
effect was most ludicrous, for no other person uttered
a syllable, and the short way in which she snapped
out so repeatedly, ' Bravo, Senhor Jeronymo!' cut
the music, as it were, into bars in the wrong places.
The effort of the silent auditory to keep grave faces
was painfully comical. Senhor Jeronymo also sang
an Italian aria, and was, as before, interrupted in his
most critical quavers by the enthusiastic lady.
Bravo, Senhor Jeronymo!. Ai, que gracinha !?
( Ah, what darling grace!') But we had some plain
talk, as well as vocal and instrumental harmony.
Admiral Napier (Don Pedro's admiral, the Nelson
of his cause) lodged himself in this house in the
course of his gallant vagaries as an amphibious
warrior in the north of Portugal, after his exploit at
Cape St. Vincent. Senhor C- gave a curious ac-
count of his bluntness in deportment to the astonished
natives. Senhor C—— called on him here. "What do
you want?' inquired the admiral. He was lounging
on the sofa in the drawing-room, smoking a cigar;
he was dressed in clothes once blue, now of no colour,
and was altogether the most slovenly-looking of
heroes. “I called to pay my respects.' 'Will you
write ?' 'Whatever your Excellency pleases. The
admiral throws his cigar out of the window, takes a
pinch of snuff, and reflects. Write, then, to the
46
'MUITO OBRIGADO'
WU
Juiz de Fora ; he must feed all my men directly.
Is that done?' 'Yes.' • Send it off, then.' A pinch
of snuff. 'Write to such an authority of such and
such a parish or village. He must furnish three
bullocks, &c. &c.;' and so he went on, taking pinches
of snuff, and issuing his requisitions. The abbot
and principals of a neighbouring monastery waited
on him in form. They were introduced, and ranged
themselves in semicircle, making their bows. The
admiral on his sofa seemed in a brown study,' till
reminded by some gentlemen that these visitors
were persons of distinction. What do they want?'
• They come to offer their compliments to your
Excellency. He got up, inclined his head, and
thanked them, “Muito obrigado, muito obrigado'
(Much obliged, much obliged'), and bowed them out.
His demeanour here was thought altogether rough
and eccentric. I dare say he had neither leisure nor
inclination to bandy compliments with Portuguese
gentlemen and friars, the greater part of whom, he
might well suspect, wished him and all Don Pedro's
partisans at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. I
give this report-without offence, I trust-just as it
was made to us by Senhor C—-, and confirmed by
several of Senhor M-_'s friends. Senhor M—-
was absent at the time of Napier's foray; for he, too,
had found it prudent to expatriate himself during
the tyranny of Don Miguel, by whose government
every man of substance and of local influence who
did not declare himself for the king absolute' was
treated as a foe and a traitor. Senhor M-- took
refuge at Liverpool.
We set off in a boat at 8 A.M., accompanied by
THE LIMA
47
Senhor M--, down the delightful Lima. The sail
was arranged over the centre of the boat as a coved
awning, and under it was a couch all ready for J—
and me, and a basket with wine and cake, &c.
Thus the attentions of our host and hostess were
minutely thoughtful to the last. The sail protected
us from the sun without impeding our view. Two
men, one at the head, the other at the stern, shoved
the boat along with poles. The bed of the river is of
soft, clean sand, and abounds with shallows, through
which the men are sometimes obliged to dig channels;
though the flat boat in which we were, not drawing
above half a foot of water, would probably seldom or
never require such a clearance—at least, unless much
more heavily freighted than it was now. At Ber-
tiendos, about two miles below Ponte de Lima, we
observed a handsome quinta, belonging to a Fidalgo
-astately house, with stone pinnacles, open galleries,
squarestone tower, battlemented, and standing within
a grove of noble trees. We were told that it was
occupied by lineal descendants of those Pereiras
whom old Gil Vicente describes.
• They are thorough-bred nobles and good cavaliers,
Good defenders of right, if the cost be not theirs ;
Full of zeal for the realm, both abroad and at home;
And, when once they are married, not given to roam.
But the women, the genuine pride of the race,
Oh, they are the women for beauty and grace !
No flowers are so lovely, no birds are so gay,
And a spell is in all that they do and they say.'
At Passgens, a mile or two lower down, our
worthy host took leave of us, and mounted his horse.
We often could perceive our own horses and mule,
48
THE LIMA
along the river side, leisurely wending towards the
same point to which we were so pleasantly gliding.
We too, however, were tempted to land at Veiga de
Corilho, on the edge of a plain three leagues in
extent, well cultivated, and now alive with waving
rye, nearly fit for the sickle. This plain is backed
by cone-shaped rocky hills. The river banks are
more than fringed with oaks and olives; the old
olive-trees thus intermingled with oaks by no means
disfigure the landscape; the lichen-stained trunk is
almost as picturesque as that of the time-silvered
birch. Under the far spread shade of the oaks we
sauntered along for a mile or two, then took to the
boat again. On a hill to the left is a pretty chapel,
Nossa Senhora de boa morte, 'Our lady of the good
death,' and another, not far off, San Estevão de
facha, “St. Stephen of the torch. On the right
bank we have passed the small white chapel of St.
Christopher, on a grey rock; lower, the chapel of
St. Justa. Yonder, on the left bank again, is
Victorina, a hamlet, near the Cassa dos Abreus
Cotinhos, a mansion which was grossly abused a few
years ago, and had all its furniture destroyed by the
National Guard of Ponte de Lima, because Miguelite
papers were found, or pretended to have been found
there. But the little wars' of retaliation are never
ended in Portugal. Miguelites and Pedroites,
Hump-backs and Thumped-backs, Chartists and
Septembrists, &c. &c., for ever reappear under some
new nickname or other, and fight their little spites,
and never fight them out; and so it will ever be,
unless this fair region shall at last be blessed with a
strong and honest government. It is a pity that the
THE LIMA
. 49
noisome subject of Portuguese discords will obtrude
itself everywhere, even on the Lima. But yonder
are some men fish-spearing; better that than spear-
ing one another. Just now we passed a group of
fishers netting. As we glide along we are greeted,
in mid-river, by men who are wading across with
baskets on their heads; the first men that I have seen
carrying burthens in that fashion ; but hands and
staff are needed here to steady them across the un-
equal shoals. Nightingales are in full song in the
hazel and olive copses with which the river margin
is decorated as with hedgerows_hardly hedgerows,
little lines of sportive wood run wild.' The distant
cuckoos are calling to each other. Now we come
upon a fleet of boats, in full sail ; for here is deeper
water-above twenty boats, and a very pretty fleet
it is. They are working up from Viana to Ponte de
Lima with bacalhao, &c., and empty pipes to fetch
wine. Blue dragon-flies—blue, green, golden-are
hovering over the water; and in the water is a kind
of long delicate weed, that looks like seaweed, the
finest, most beautiful that ever was seen ; but it is
the growth of the river sand, for there it has its root,
and the long fibres wave and stream under the current
with more life than the current itself, and look,
indeed, like the tresses of some group of nymphs
whom the silver sands have suddenly hidden at our
approach, leaving nothing of them visible but their
hair. The sky above and around is all bright azure
-no, not all just now; for there are eider-down-
like clouds, with brown edges, hovering over the
mountains, which those white clouds darken but not
sadden with their shadows. The men have now
7
50
THE LIMA
taken to their paddles, and we glide along against
the breeze, if breeze it may be called, that comes so
soft and so fragrant from the west, and need not
whisper whence it stole its balmy sweets,' for yonder
is the orchard it has been robbing—a grove of
orange-trees and lemon-trees in flower. The hues
of the slightly rippled and quite transparent river
are now more beautiful than ever. As we look down
through the water, the effect on the sandy bed is as
if it was overlaid with a golden network of large
open meshes. This is the reflection of the slightly-
curled water, the edges of the little waves sparkling
and dancing in the sun, and so on the light clean
sand beneath. In some places the effect of the sun
on the surface of the water is that of myriads of
diamonds dancing. Almost all the way down, on
both banks, except with such intervals as make an
agreeable variety, by letting us in to peeps at the
fields, the river is luxuriantly edged, but not hedged,
with brushwood; and the branches, not only of the
olives and tall 'oaks, already spoken of, but of this
underwood, reach far over upon the stream in many
places, and there on the lithe twigs the nightingales
swing and sing. I saw some of them perched in
this manner, while they sang against each other, with
so merry a note.' They were not so shy of being
seen as nightingales usually are in England, where,
though they seem to like a populous neighbourhood,
they shun the eye of man or woman. Of the scores
of these birds that I have heard at Richmond-on-
Thames, at Woolwich, and other frequented places,
I have seldom espied one, though, like Chaucer's
VIANA
51
* Lady of the Flower and the Leaf,' and many a
time,
I waited about busily
On every side, if I “ that bird” might see.'
I suppose they are here unmolested by bird-snarers,
and too happy to be suspicious.
Within a league of Viana the tide comes up, and
the river widens; we heard no more nightingales.
On the left of the river, near Viana, is a hill, with
its backbone bristled up with pines, a striking isolated
object.
We were almost sorry to arrive at Viana, so
pleasant had been the passage down the Lima. Our
horses were already at the pier. J and I
mounted ours, and the gentlemen walked by us to
the house of Mr. N- , of Oporto, who had, with
his ever-ready gentlemanly kindness (the air of doing
himself a favour when he was bestowing one), com-
manded us to make that house our hotel.
May 29.
The hospitality of Mr. N- 's representative
here, and the excessive heat of the day, caused us to
be later in starting than we had intended. We had
ordered our mule-man to be ready at 3 P.M. The
surly fellow mounted the baggage mule and started
off without us, at the hour. At five we set out, first
riding round the town, accompanied by some
Portuguese friends of our English friend, Mr. No,
looking at the Guildhall, a bald-fronted stone house,
another civic building (of which I forget the name
and use ; but it had a handsomely sculptured stone
2
52
VIANA
front), the churches, convents, the queer long sort of
zigzag bridge, &c., and the castle—a strongly barred,
dismal prison on the seaside.
We then pursued our way, and our fugitive bag-
gage and arriero, passing two hamlets, Arioso and
Careço, where reside the women and children by
whom the lands in the neighbourhood are most
exclusively cultivated; the men, for the most part,
emigrating to Lisbon for more remunerative work.
These women all look old, and their young fellow-
labourers have the appearance of imps rather than
children. The constant exposure and exertion seem
to deform their featurės, as much as they darken
their skins. Our way from Viana, at first, was along
a fair sandy road; on the left, a plain of corn-fields
to the sea side; on the right, grey hills with rough
ridges. The villages are mostly on the side of these
rocks. The latter part of our journey was over soft
sands, then through a village ; and then we came to
an extensive pine-wood, on the nearest outskirt of
which we found our arriero waiting. He had halted,
afraid, as he confessed, of going through the wood
alone, lest he should be robbed. His cowardice
satisfied us of one thing, that he was not a rogue as
well as a sot; for nothing would have been easier
for him, had he been so inclined, than to have
arranged a robbery with some of his pot-companions
at any lone venda, and so to have eased the mule of
her load in this very wood, or some other convenient
spot, without any witness that would 'peach. He
might even have done worse, without much risk of
proof against him. A posse of ruffians, supposing
him to have been in intelligence with such persons,
AN ADVENTURE
53
might in this wood, or in any other of the many
lone woods and wilds that we traversed, have robbed
the whole party of everything valuable about them,
for we had no arms with us. This mode of plunder
by connivance of the muleteer does not often occur ;
for most of the arrieros are as trustworthy as Arab
guides. I can, however, cite two instances in which
personal friends of ours seem to have been betrayed
by their guides. Our companion, Mr. H— , can
furnish the particulars of one of these adventures.
Let us ask him. “Mr. H.- , what o'clock is
it?'
· Why do you ask me. You are always asking me
what o'clock it is, and you know I have no watch!'
‘And how come you to have no watch ?'
"You know as well as I do.
‘But I should like to hear the very particulars
from yourself. I have not yet heard them from your
own mouth.'
"Well, then, it is a short story, unless I make it a
long one to revenge myself on your impertinence. I
was lately at Vizeu. A young gentleman, also from
Oporto, was with me. We were about to return
home by Lamego and the Alto Douro. At Vizeu,
where we were both strangers, we hired, from a man
whom we knew nothing about and who knew nothing
about us, two mules to ride, and an arriero to walk
-all three very bad. The arriero was an old fellow
and very slow, but not slower than his mules, so he
had no fear of being left behind. We had a terrible
pull to Castro d'Aire. Whenever a village came in
sight, we asked, “Is that Castro d’Aire ?” “No,
sir," was still the answer. At last we approached a
54
AN ADVENTURE :
considerable cluster of houses on the edge of a ravine.
“Is that Castro d'Aire ?” we eagerly inquired of a
passing countryman. Abrolhos (Open your eyes),
he answered with a grin. Uncivil churl! thought
we; but the name of the place was Abrolhos. The
man then pointed out to us a confused mass of build-
ings on the other side of the ravine. This was Castro
d'Aire, a very picturesque object at this distance ; a
wretched place on nearer acquaintance. We de-
scended to the edge of the gully, crossed the bridge
over the rushing Paiva, and painfully climbed the
steep to Castro d'Aire, whose walls and steeples
looked as if a touch might hurl them down the pre-
cipice. In this place we passed a miserable night.
The filthy hovel called an inn was full of mule-drivers
and vagabonds.
• Never mind, go on.'
*But some of them minded us, and would not let
us go on.'
Ay, come to that.'
*All in good time, ma'am ; hurry no man's cattle,
the mules are slow. At daybreak we left Castro
d'Aire in a thick fog, which soon turned to drizzling
rain. When we had proceeded about a league, we
overtook a blind beggar mounted on a donkey, with
an old man on foot who acted as his guide, and we
all jogged on together. Presently my mule threw a
shoe; this occasioned some delay; we stopped at
every hut or hamlet we came to, inquiring for a far-
rier, but without success. We had just gained the
top of a particularly steep and broken piece of road,
and my mule, from which I had got off, was already
limping, when I was joined by a pedestrian in the
ind beca proceeded burned to
AN ADVENTURE
55
common dress of a farm servant. He offered to lead
the disabled animal. We declined his services, but
he continued to walk and talk with me. I was now
in the rear of the party. Shortly after, I was over-
taken by a horseman, well mounted and armed,
attended by an arriero, whom he was upbraiding for
having let him sleep too long. “Pray what o'clock
is it, sir?” said he to me, with a grave salute. I
took out my watch, and answered eight o'clock. He
thanked me and hurried on. By-and-bye, on turning
a corner of the road, I was surprised to meet the said
horseman coming back alone, and faster than he had
left me. When within ten paces of me, he levelled
his carbine and commanded me to stop on pain of
death. I suppose I looked rebellious, for the peasant
at my side suddenly pinioned my arms behind, and
told me not to make an ass of myself! In a minute
or two all my party was brought back, beggar on
donkey and all, by others of the gang who had burst
out upon them from the brushwood. The horseman
now dismounted, and telling us that he was a soap-
guard, an officer employed by the contractors for the
soap monopoly, and that he had received information
that we were engaged in smuggling soap from Spain,
declared that we must accompany him to the com-
missary of the nearest village. They then led us a
good way off the main road, the captain always keep-
ing his carbine ready, within rather a ticklish distance
of myself. Finally, after crossing several fields and
enclosures, they came to a small wood of oak pollards.
“ This will do," cried the head thief. In a moment
our valises were taken off the mules and thoroughly
rifled, each thief helping himself. We, too, were
56
AN ADVENTURE
L
carefully searched, and eased not only of the contents
of our pockets, but of our very coats and waistcoats.
The rascals, however, seemed grievously disappointed
at the amount of their booty, for they only got thirty
or forty crowns in money; and they reproachfully
assured us, that if they had known we were worth so
little, they would not have taken so much trouble !'
But your watch, Mr. H— ?'
* Yes, they got our two watches and chains ; that
was the worst of it.'
"And was that all that happened ?'
‘Not quite ; they tied us by twos, back to back,
and bound each couple to a tree. We must have
looked rather ridiculous. The robbers then left us,
promising to send sone one to release us in two hours,
and threatening us with all sorts of deaths if we at-
tempted to get loose sooner. In about half an hour,
however, our muleteer, who no doubt was in the
plot, and had been loosely tied, easily got free, and
gave us liberty. The blind man we found in the next
field, the thieves having contented themselves with
turning him round three or four times, so as to make
him lose all idea of the points of the compass, and
there he was, shouting with all his might. Mules
and donkeys also were left quietly grazing, our polite
knights of the road having merely cut the girths of
the saddles. We got to Lamego about four in the
afternoon.'
But let us get out of this dark pillared wilderness
of wood, 'questa selva selvaggia ed aspra e forte.'
We had silently plodded among its sands for half an
hour, when J- , in a tone that was not like her
own merry voice, said, 'Gloomy enough!' and those
CAMINHA
SAL
two words were all that were uttered while we 'fol-
lowed our guide through its pathless and seemingly
endless intricacies. Bats were flitting over our
heads, and the sea-murmurs were heard ; but though
there was no moon, cheerful stars were glistening
that appeared the brighter as we looked up at them
through those solemn black pines. In half an hour
more. we got clear of the wood, and we reached
Caminha soon after nine o'clock. · We found the inn
a very poor one, and, luckily, we had a letter of intro-
duction from Senhor M- , of Ponte de Lima, which
we did not scruple to send to its address, as soon as
we had glanced at the wretched accommodations.
Senhor
C w as at the Governor's with his family,
but immediately came away on receiving the letter,
and escorted us at once to his own house, whither he
was quickly followed, not only by his wife and children,
but by the Governor, and three ladies and two gen-
tlemen besides. It was quite a little party assembled
in ten minutes. We had tea, and were then enter-
tained with music-guitar and piano. One of the
nieces of the Governor sang modinhas very pleasingly.
Dancing was proposed, but I pleaded our fatigue
as an excuse ; and before midnight we were kindly
suffered to retire to rest. Our mattresses were hard,
but everything was clean and comfortable ; and had
they been stuffed with down, we could not have been
more grateful for them.
May 31.
We have sent our horses and servants to Valença,
and engaged a large boat, with two boatmen, to take
us up the river. So here we are, at 10 P.M., within
58
THE RIVER MINHO
arrow shot of Spain and Portugal; and yet in
neither. We are in the centre of the Minho, rowing
up to Valença with the tide. The Minho is a fine
broad stream to the sea all the way from Valença,
and far higher up. It is at present, that is, to us, who
have now our eyes on it, of a dull, light sea-green
colour. There are several villages on or near its
banks on both sides. The landscape is chiefly com-
posed of slopes and taller hills, darkly green with
pines, or grey with rocks, or brownish-red with short
heath. Near the river, here and there, are livelier
patches of cultivated grounds, and pasture fields.
We met a few boats from Valença, bringing down
hams and Indian corn. They were sailing against
the tide, but the wind was in their favour. We
passed other boats that were poling up; these were
laden with salt for Valença. At Villa Nova de
Cerveira we landed, and as our condessa, or provender
basket, had been, by a blunder, suffered to take its
usual place on mule back with the rest of our luggage
this morning, we bought bread for ourselves and the
rowers, and also a canada of wine (two quarts),
which cost about fourpence. Villa Nova de Cerveira
is a very little place, but has its ramparts, bastions,
and battlements. There is a small elegant chapel on
the ramparts. In the diminutive town is a handsome
church. On the Spanish side of the river is, of
course, a rival battery; a little higher up is a round
mill-like watch tower, called the Tower of the Rat,
and opposite to it is, of course, another Portuguese
battery. On the bald hills of Galicia, as well as on
the Portuguese side, are numerous steep roads and
tortuous paths distinctly visible. Both sides are
BANKS OF THE MINHO
59
hungry-looking, and scarcely interesting, except as
boundaries between two nations that detest each
other with the vigorous ever-green hatred of near
relations at feud.
About two miles below Valença the boatmen-
good-natured fellows, but rogues, who preferred their
own convenience to ours—were about to land us,
saying, This is our port: A pretty trudge we
should have had to the town! Mr.- declined
landing there, and they pulled on. The morning had
been exceedingly sultry; the wind had died away,
and the sky became overcast; thunder began to
mutter, and large drops of rain gave notice of a storm.
Presently, it did not rain, but it poured ’; floods of
large rain, intermixed with hail, came hurtling
viciously down, and drenched us in a few minutes.
The effect on the water was as if it had been sud-
denly covered roughly with live snow, so long as this
sharp rain of arrowy sleet’lasted. The blackened
sky and pine-woods and mountains looked like a
drawing in Indian ink. The terror and helplessness
of the boatmen were so ludicrous that even J—— who
is not very courageous, could not refrain from laugh-
ing at them, though the thunder now echoing among
the hills was awful. At every flash of lightning our
watermen cowered down like men marked for doom,
and at every rattling peal they loudly invoked St.
Jerome, and rushed from one end of the boat to the
other; luckily it was a large boat, or they must have
upset it. In an interval, when there was a little
breeze and a lull of the storm, they put up a sail to
expedite their escape. At the first clap of thunder
that followed, they lowered the sail in all precipitation,
60
A STORM
and left it, all wet as it was, flapping on J—-—'s head
and mine, till our gentlemen removed it. The boat-
men then rowed away to the nearest bank, and took
shelter under some trees; but when Mr. — told
them that that was much more dangerous than
keeping out, away they hurried, and we were again
in the full stream. They then rowed as if for
their lives, and soon put, us ashore at the foot of
Valença, the first view of which was very bold and
grand—a pyramid of buildings on a hill. Tuy is
similarly situated nearly opposite. After an ugly,
though sharp walk up the hill, slippery with rain, we
passed under the gloomy archways of the fort to the
small town, where we put up at the inn O Galego.'
It was a goodish provincial Portuguese inn ; would
be a wretched pothouse in a more civilised region.
After receiving the visits of two or three gentlemen,
to whom we had forwarded letters, and walking
round the ramparts and through the poor town, we
dined, and retired early to rest.
In the morning all the party except myself
strolled again over the ramparts and town. I went
into the nearest church, invited by the open door,
and I suppose the morning service was already over,
for I perceived no living creature within. But there
a little girl, about ten years old, lay dead on her open
bier, crowned with flowers, and dressed in silk,
trimmed with tinsel and ribbons. She was covered
from head to foot with a white transparent veil, a
bride for the worm.
Valença is said to be the third strong place of
Portugal; Elvas and Almeida being the other two.
It is in bad order, but might, no doubt, stand a good
VALENÇA
61
siege if well repaired and manned by a more resolute
garrison and Governor than those that surrendered
it to Napier when, as a Portuguese gentleman told
me, they had men enough to beat him back 'with
nothing but stones,' and might have laughed him to
scorn with their formidable twelve-pounders, brass
guns, mortars, &c., if all this warlike gear had been
in serviceable condition and well served. On this
very site, nearly two thousand years ago, a Portu-
guese warrior shepherd (a bandit the Roman his-
torians called him), after having in many fields foiled
the legions, and conquered peace, erected a strong
place of refuge, as if suspicious of the treachery to.
which he at last fell a victim. No shred of the
shepherd's mantle, if he wore one, descended to Don
Miguel's Governor of Valença when he surrendered
to Napier's handful of seamen and marines. The
cowardice, however, of the garrison and the chief
was probably rather political than physical. They
knew their cause was gone.
Don L- , of Tuy, to whom we last night sent
our letter of introduction, called at 11 A.M., and ac-
companied us in the ferry boat to Tuy. The heat was
excessive. Four Portuguese volunteers, whose
regiment was on duty at Valença, crossed the ferry
with us, and the moment they landed on Spanish
ground, began to abuse the Spaniards as the lowest
of the human race, and they continued their vitu-
peration as long as we let them walk behind us.
This must have been pleasant to Don L--, our
companion, on his own ground.
He took no notice whatever of their insulting
language. We stopped that they might pass, and
62
TUY
LCU
one of the men, who saw how disgusted we were,
said civilly enough to Mr. ---, 'Oh, you don't
know these Gallegos; ask them how they treated
us formerly, when we were outnumbered by the
Miguel traitors, and forced to retreat into Galicia.'
· But true soldiers,' replied Mr. L- , keep their
tongues, as well as swords, in the scabbard, in time
of peace.'
The man smiled, and all four raised their hands
to their caps, and walked off.
Don L- conducted us to his house, a good
and pleasant one, where an elderly good-humoured
lady and two handsome young ladies (one a visitor
from Vigo, and the other a sister of Don L- )
received us. J- was almost immediately asked
to play on the piano, which she did. Several airs
were then played with much taste and remarkable
dignity of carriage by one of the young Spaniards ;
for, let the Castilians sneer as they will, there is as
true Spanish blood and blue blood, too) in Galicia
as in either of the Castiles. Sweetmeats and wine
were offered us, and then we were guided up the
hill to various points of view, some of them very fine,
the Spanish and Portuguese mountains uniting in a
natural and noble harmony, which the two nations
seem determined never to imitate. At the very top
of the town, the cathedral with its rich gateway and
cloisters, and its dark elaborately sculptured stalls,
is worthy of much longer examination than we had
time to give to so venerable an edifice. There is a
magnificent prospect of mountains, fertile vales, and
river, from the robing-room of the bishop. The Tuy
prison for men is, of course, strongly barred with
FROM VALENÇA TO MONÇÃO
63
iron; but that for women, right opposite, had the
casements secured with wooden bars only.
On our return to Valença, the Brigadier-General
commanding there, to whose attention we had been
recommended by letter, sent an aide-de-camp to
explain that he had been absent on our arrival, and
had only just come back, and that he would come to
us presently. But we sent him word that we were
about to depart. I only mention the circumstance,
otherwise of no interest whatever, as another instance
of the invariable respect paid by Portuguese gentle-
men to letters of introduction..
At 5 P.M. we started for Monção. The ride all
the way was beautiful; the road, comparatively
speaking, not bad. The borders of the rivers are
richly wooded; and, when I use this phrase, I do
not mean with the pine only, but with trees of more
cheerful character-oaks, chestnuts, walnuts, &c.
Sometimes we rode under ramadas of vines, which
are of the most delicate verdure at this season. The
vine is trained on upright poles, or on stone shafts,
at each side of the road, and on cross poles at top,
and thus forms these charming highway arbours.
Exquisite views of the river by the setting sunlight.
Tuy looked out boldly and clearly in the full light as
we left Valença, while the hills at the back of Tuy
were already shrouded in the deepest and richest
blue. At San Mamede, a village about equidistant
from Valença and Monção, is a bridge across a deep
little woody glen over the Rio da Gadanha, a stream
that joins the Minho just below. Near this bridge,
which is called Ponte do Manco (the Cripple's Bridge),
is a saw-mill; and a little further on is a quinta,
64
MONÇÃO
with a most imposing breadth of gateway of carved
stone ; but the house to which it invites attention
has no claim to notice. This incongruity reminded
me of the story of an English squire, who, having
constructed as pompous a gateway to a paltry pad-
dock and insignificant mansion, caused his chosen
motto to be inscribed on the gate thus : OA VANITAS ;
on which, a sarcastic visitor observed, that the squire's
omnia seemed very small, and his vanitas very great.
But some of such gateways in Portugal are of hoar
antiquity, and though they may now be passages
that lead to nothing,' like Gray's in the 'Long Story,
the arms thereon sculptured have often a proud and
melancholy interest. They tell of men and things
that were when Portugal was a nation, and when
Fidalgos were statesmen and heroes.
Half a mile onward we passed the bluff square
tower called the Castle of Lapella, said to be one of
· the many forts built in the reign of King Diniz, the
poet-king, whose songs of the thirteenth century have
but just been printed for the first time from a manu-
script in the Vatican. On the Galician side of the
Minho, a little beyond o Castello de Lapella, is the
sullen-looking fortress of Salvatierra.
i By eight o'clock we reached Monção, whither Mr.
- had preceded us, and where, finding the inn
uninviting, he accepted for us the proffered hospitality
of a gentleman to whom we had a letter, and who
made our party, servants and quadrupeds excepted,
as comfortable as he could on so short a notice. We
ladies, having got tea, were glad to go to rest before
ten.
Monção, according to some antiquaries, who have
· MONÇÃO
65
access, I suspect, to archives in the moon (for Ciò
che si perde qui, là si raguna,' says Ariosto), is so
ancient that its first name was Obobriga, from King
Brigus, its original founder, one thousand nine
hundred years before the birth of our Saviour. So
we may peculiarly apply to this place the observa-
tion more largely applied by Camoens :-
. de hum Brigo,
Se foi, ja teve o nome derivado.'
It derives its name from one Brigus, if such a
one ever lived.' Íts second founders were the Greeks,
who named it Orozion, whence, as it is pretended, it
was afterwards called Mons Sanctus, and abbreviated
to Monção. “Afterit had been again dismantled and
deserted, it was refounded by Alfonso III., not ex-
actly on the same site as before, but where it now
stands, close to the Minho. His son, King Diniz,
walled it round, and built the castle. The arms of
the town are, on a field argent, a woman on the walls,
holding two loaves, and the motto is Deu-la-deu, God
gave her,' in memory of the courage and discretion
of a noble lady, Deu-la-deu (or Theodosia) Martinez,
who, after the Castilians had for some time invested
the town, and cut off all supplies, baked some bread,
and threw the loaves from the wall, calling out to
the Spaniards, “There, if you want food, speak, for
we have plenty, and will spare you some.' The
besiegers, when they saw fresh bread, gave up the
siege. They had hoped to starve the garrison out,
and had nearly done so: but woman's wile saved the
place.
For those leaguers · little knew
What that wily sex could do.'
66
HOW TO GET ROBBED
June 1.
We were up at half-past four, but could not get
our servants to be ready till seven. At breakfast,
our host, who had travelled much both in North and
South America (and who was sixteen years in Brazil,
chiefly in Pernambuco, which, he said, contains the
finest scenery he ever saw), dispraised the Spaniards
in no qualified terms. Thus it is wherever we go;
and the Spaniards are not one whit less uncharitable
to the Portuguese. Pitiable is the discord between
two people who worship the same God, follow the
same superstitions, have nearly the same language
and manners and customs, and a soil which nature
seems to have intended for one vast brotherhood.
On another subject, the vagaries of our acquaint-
ance and countryman, Major P- , of which we
had heard something at Valença, our obliging host
was more entertaining than that of his antipathy to
his neighbours. The Major, being engaged in the
wine trade, was here for some days, looking to the
vintage produce in every direction; for the English
formerly used to procure wines from this vicinity.
They were then, it is said, better than now; the
vines at present cultivated yield more grapes, but of
inferior quality. The Major, after his field-inspection
of the vines, started off for Valença one afternoon,
on foot, with no servant: but he was accompanied
by two or three men, hired as guards, and a mule
that carried his luggage.
When he had proceeded some way, the thought
struck him that he might ‘kill two birds with one
stone'; and as he was at no great distance from
Valença, and had time to spare, he might just as
THE MAJOR
67
well cross the river, and look about him on Galician
ground. A boat, with its owner, was unluckily near,
and perhaps the sight of it was father to the thought.'
He hailed it, made an agreement with the man to
take him across and back again, and left his sumpter-
mule in charge of his trusty guards. By the time
he got across it was dusk; so, after jumping ashore,
and seeing nothing, he jumped back into the boat,
and was soon once more on Portuguese ground.
But where were his attendants and where was his
mule ? Gone! He hoped they had, at the worst,
but mistaken his directions and gone on before him,
leaving him to follow in the boat. No such thing.
They had divided his luggage among them, and let
the mule loose to find its .own way to Monção.
About eleven o'clock at night he presented himself
at the gate of Valença. He gave no intelligible
account of himself, though questioned in Portuguese,
Spanish, French, and Latin. His excitement pro-
bably made him forget the little that he knew of any
of these languages, or at least that he knew as he
heard them pronounced here. He only contrived to
betray the fact that he had crossed over to Spain,
and on examination of his passport it was perceived
that it had not been countersigned with any permis-
sion to cross. This was irregular; and there seemed
some mystery about the dust-covered man. There
unluckily happened to be a guerilla, at this time,
· prowling about the neighbourhood of Monção. The
garrison soldiers would have it that this was no
English Major, but one of that band of robbers-per-
haps its chief, for he was ' a fine-looking man.' They
proposed to kill him, whether in jest or earnest it is
F
2
68
THE BERJOEIRA
11
difficult to say; but a mob was by this time collected,
and the shout was raised that the leader of the
Monção guerilla was taken, and · Kill him ! kill him!'
was the cry. The Governor opportunely arrived,
and lodged him in prison, to save his life, for which
he sent the Governor a challenge to a duello with
pistols or swords. No notice was taken of the chal-
lenge; and the next day, after a respectable native.
of Valença had identified the Major as the rightful
possessor of the passport, the good-natured comman-
dant sent him away with a guard, who were ordered
to see him safe in Viana, where there is an English
vice-consul. But the Major, having no fancy for their
protection, got rid of them at Caminha, and finally
found his way back to Oporto.
Before we mounted we looked into the church,
and walked through the square of Monção, which is
graced by two grand old oaks and a modern fountain.
We had a green and agreeable, though hot, ride to
the magnificent mansion of Berjoeira, the seat of the
family of P- de M . It was begun about forty
years ago ; and, according to the design, should be a
square building of 180 feet breadth to each of the
four fronts; but only half of the plan has been com-
pleted. The house contains grand suites of apart-
ments, with ill-painted ceilings and panels, &c. In
one of the saloons are family portraits, in all the
ugliness of stiffly daubed caricatures. The paint-
ings in the house of every description are wretched
specimens of art. The pleasure grounds are very
handsome and well kept; cool alleys, vine-roofed
parterres of flowers, fountains, terraces with shrubs,
gravelled walks, bowers paved with blue pantiles of
TO ARCOS
69
many patterns, are among the ornaments of these
gardens. The house, perhaps, stands in the centre
of the proprietor's grounds; for it commands no
view of importance, and not a single glimpse of
running water. The surrounding country is, how-
ever, rich and woody; and the remote mountains are
a good background in every part of this district. By
the way, or rather, out of the way, we took a boy to
guide us as far as the Berjoeira; and we had also a
volunteer conductor—a tall, thin madman, of middle
age, ghastly and fierce in aspect, but harmless.
Poor fellow ! he seemed to have an instinctive
hostility to dogs, which no doubt often worry him.
He went out of his path to give them battle wherever
he heard their bark, and threw stones at them
valiantly wherever he saw them.
We had a fine, wild sylvan ride to Arcos; but
how hot; and what roads! If roads they should
be called, that roads are none.'
To the village of Rio Bom the way was not only
so intricate that we went astray several times, but it
was as rude and bad as possible. The Portuguese
roads are often mere watercourses, formed by the
torrents in the rainy season, and torrents are rough
paviers. The ride from Rio Bom, too, over the
mountain Estremo, was rather arduous; up hill
and down dale, and along the mountain sides, with
their half-paved furrows and pits of roads, but with
glorious green views all round us, high and low, of
the pine-clad Serras, d'Estrica, d'Anta, and more
distant, those of Bolhoza to the west, and da Panheda
to the east, shutting in luxuriant valleys of corn and
wine. Huge stones (one or two giants reminded me
70
OUR MULEMAN AGAIN
of the bowderstone in Borrodale, and many of our pro-
spects to-day were of Cumbrian feature) lay on the
hills on our way, and there was one hill that was an
entire cone of granite, flattened at top, and support-
ing great square stones, like a castle-wall and tower.
We wanted Professor Sedgwick here. We stopped
at the foot of the Estremo, at a village called Choças
(pronounced Shossas), to refresh ourselves and
quadrupeds at a venda, and to replace a shoe that
one of the horses had lost. We dined on bread and
meat that we had brought with us, and some superior
wine of Monção, of which we found three or four
flasks in our condessa, into which they must have
been smuggled by our host; for we did not know
they were there. We chanced, however, to be so
scantily supplied with meat that there was none for
the servants, so their fare was sardinhas and plenty
of bread and wine. The horses and mule also had
the latter, sopas, bread soaked in wine, for neither
barley, nor Indian corn, nor rye-straw was to be had
in this miserable place. Our churl of an arriero
broke out into one of his fits of rage ; but this time
he was so impudent—as if we were answerable for the
village of Choças not containing diet to suit his
palate—that Mr. M— - was compelled to rate him
gage mule, which he had never suffered our own man
to mount, except once, when she was in a vicious
humour. Mr. -- now insisted that he should not
mount again, and rode at him when he attempted it.
The mutineer found it would not do; we were as
much frightened as amused by the squabble; but the
mule settled the matter, for she began kicking, and
CULTIVATION OF THE LAND
. 71
set all our horses prancing. The man now turned
his eloquence on the macha, and did not flatter her;
but her eye, and a certain revolution of one ear, told
him that he was safer on foot. Mr. - who
knows the country and the ways of its people, declares
that in all his experience he never had to deal with
so discontented, ill-tempered, and ill-conditioned a
railer as this arriero, who, I am sorry to add, is not
a native of Galicia, as most of his calling in this land
are, but a Portuguese. As a set-off against this
man's misconduct, Mr. - says that the very best,
the most obliging, and the funniest arriero he ever
employed was a Portuguese who accompanied him
all the way from Oporto to Coimbra, the Batalha,
Alcobaça, &c., to Lisbon.
Every hill on our route in this fatiguing ride,
wherever culture is possible, is as carefully tilled as
the vales ; the land is partitioned off into small fields
which are fringed with rows of dwarf oaks, vine-
clasped; there are terraces under terraces of these
tree-bordered fields, and instead of a wall of stones
to support the side of each terrace, there is often a
casing of green sod that looks as well as the trim-
mest hedge, and adds much to the cheerful verdure of
the scene. Between Choças and Arcos are the villages
of Pogido and Gandara de Porzello. It took us seven
hours and a half, including balts, to perform this
day's journey, though the distance from Monção to
Arcos, in a direct line, is less than twenty miles.
Arcos stands pleasantly in the Val do Vez, on the
river Vez, that runs shallow and brawling near it,
and disembogues into the Lima a few miles to the
south.
72
BANKS OF THE VEZ
From a plateau on which stand two churches and
a large house thrown back between them, are fine
views of the river, valley, and surrounding moun-
tains. I believe there is nothing of man's work very
remarkable at Arcos, where, on account of the heat,
we remained till 3 P.M.
June 2.
The innkeeper, a civil man, warned us that it would
take us at least seven hours, probably more, to ac-
complish our journey to Braga, and he advised us to
defer our departure for twelve hours. He represented
the difficulty of travelling at night on such bad roads,
and the danger of being waylaid by robbers. But
we did not put much faith in these arguments for
delay. Besides, if we wished to start at three in the
morning, there would be no possibility, we believed,
of getting our intractable arriero to be ready before
six or seven. So off we set. There is a beautiful
prospect of river, church, and town, and fields and
mountains from the bridge of Arcos--a very beautiful
view indeed; and the ride all the way to Barca de
Bico, the ferry across the Cavado, within a league
and a half of Braga, which was as far as the daylight
served us, is magnificently rich. The first part was
delightful along the margin of the Vez, with abundant
verdure on every side, and lofty steeps wooded to the
very summit, and the green much enlivened by the
yellow flowering broom, which grows to uncommon
height, and blossoms in great luxuriance among the
woods here at this season. This country must, I
suppose, be exceedingly lovely in autumn, when the
leaves are turned and the grapes are ripe, as there are
many evergreen trees also. We did not find the road
PONTE DE BARCA
· 73
so bad either as our landlord had reported, except in
two or three places, and those not so very bad as
many that we had passed. For the first two leagues
the road was easy enough, and we could hardly have
thought it otherwise, or thought about it at all,
through such a succession of charming landscapes.
The Vez, which had been our lively travelling com-
panion into Arcos, did not desert us till we reached
Ponte de Barca, where it glides into the Lima.
There is at this place a pretty quinta, called Paço
Vedro (old palace). We fancied it might have been,
centuries gone by, the site of Maria Lopes da
Costa's residence. This woman, who died at the age
of 110, and whose traditional fame is alive yet in
Ponte de Barca, was twice married. Her children
and grandchildren were no less than 120 in number,
of whom eighty were living around her at the time
of her decease. King Emanuel, on his return from
Compostella, nearly 340 years since, slept in her
house, and was liberal in donations to her progeny.
The Da Costas, for the matronymic is not extinct,
are still as proud of the great King's kindness as of
their many times great-grandmother's longevity.
Our evil genius of this pleasant ramble, the arriero,
figures in to-day's adventures. He is always drinking,
and always in a rage. It is quite ludicrous to observe
how Grenho (curly head) our great stout Galician, is
afraid of him. He is most respectful to him, and as
watchful of his movements as he might be if he were
an unchained tiger. As he was not permitted to ride,
he now repeated a trick which he had played us
several times ; he so arranged, or rather disarranged,
our baggage, that the mule became uneasy and nearly
A
74
STILL OUR MULE
kicked it off. This gave him an excuse for stopping,
and he lingered till we were out of sight; but Mr. ,
suspecting his intention from the insolent humour he
saw him in, suddenly rode back, and seeing him just
about to take his seat on our carpet bags, forbade him
to mount. The man yielded, but not without loud
and vehement complaints. Mr. - now told him
that as he was a selfish and obstreperous churl, and
as he had from the commencement of our acquaint-
ance behaved as ill as possible, he should thenceforth
always go on foot, adding that he would break his
head' if he saw him make another attempt to mount
that mule while she was in our service. Mr. —
then fell back and rode behind the arriero, who
sulkily led the mule, while we ladies rode on with
Mr. H— All this was very absurd; but no words
can explain the plague this muleman gave us, and
Grenho's terror of him always increased our difficulty,
though it made us laugh. The man did not like
Mr. — 's riding behind him. He suddenly roared
out that the mule pulled his arm off, and let go the
bridle. Mr. - desired Grenho to lead her, or to
ride her if he chose. But he was muito obrigado a
sua senhoria—much obliged—and casting a queer
look of awe at the muleteer, declared that he very
much preferred walking to riding, though he had
been continually complaining to us that the man
would not let him ride. The mutineer dropped astern,
and we were in hopes we should see no more of him
till we got to Braga. A chance wayfarer whom we
met, and who heard part of the altercation, took us
into favour and joined us, going back, out of his way,
to show us ours over the Pico de Regalados, and
THE WRANGLER
75
carefully leading J-_'s horse whenever we came to
'a bad place.' He advised us to remain at Pico for
the night, proposing to accompany us to Braga early
in the morning. He was very civil, and probably
equally honest, but he had a cunning look that was
not prepossessing. Pico, too, did not appear to be an
eligible quarter for a night's billet; so we gave the
stranger half a pinto (which does not mean half a
pint, but half a new crown, that is, we gave him a
coin of value little more than a shilling), and pushed
on. Grenho, after many a lingering, but not longing
look behind, to ascertain if the arriero were fairly
out of sight, got upon the mule, to his great content
and ours; but, lo! just as we had congratulated our-
selves on having, as we imagined, surely left our
marplot far behind, the very man appeared at the
moment when Grenho had halted to recover a fish
pannier that had dropped. The man must have
skulked after us, keeping us in view the whole way.
Grenho was about to jump off, but Mr. L- , picking
up the pannier for him, told him to remain where he
was. We went on, and the man followed at some
distance. Presently he rushed up, and, adopting
Mr. _ 's expression, assured the Galician that he
would break his head' if he did not dismount.
Grenho was meekly going to comply, but was pre-
vented by Mr. ---, who promised the muleteer that
if he gave us any more of his impudence, there should
be but one broken head of the party, and that should
be his own. The bully muttered and growled, but
made no further attempt to interfere till we got to
Barco de Vico, the ferry across the Cavado, at half-
past eight. Here we were detained till ten for the
76
BRAGA
boat, which was waiting on the other side for some
cars and their oxen. The muleman now swaggered,
and seemed to enjoy Grenho’s distress, when the
baggage, being ill-mounted, again became disbalanced.
He refused to help him, though Grenho humbly en-
treated his assistance, confessing his own want of
genius to settle such important affairs. At last the
fellow did lend him a hand.
The boat did at last arrive too, and was of such
commodious breadth and form that we all rode on it
without dismounting. The distance from the ferry
to Braga may be five miles : we made it at least
twelve, wandering about the country through woods
and villages, raising the barkings of all the dogs in
the district, and disturbing the slumbers of the
inhabitants at several houses by thumping at their
doors, till some one or other now and then summoned
courage to answer; for no doubt they took us for a
band of mounted brigands. But the information
thus obtained was so confused that we could make
nothing of it for a long time. Mr. — had at first
taken the lead, and in the right direction, as it
happened; but the arriero called out that he knew
the way perfectly well; that we were on the wrong
track, and must take what he termed the lower
road. Of course we complied, and so got into a
labyrinth, and then no one was so anxious and so
timid as our besotted guide, till, by finding our
way back to the spot from which he had called us,
we were at length fairly out of the scrape. During
all the time the woods and lanes were very dark ;
for though there was starlight, there was no moon.
We were cheered and delighted, however, by the
CATHEDRAL
77
nightingales ; some of which, though very near us,
did not cease singing for the tramp of our horses'
hoofs. We entered Braga an hour after midnight,
rattled up the people of the inn, got supper, and
were in bed by half-past two.
Braga : June 3.
The cathedral was the first object we visited.
We attended service; and if to some of us the mass
was as a dead letter, none of our party could be in-
sensible to the solemn eloquence of the organ.
After service (at which our Oporto friend, Senhor
P , one of the canons here, assisted) the sacristan
showed us all the rare treasures : first, in the sacristy,
several antique pieces of church plate, and the robes,
ancient and modern, of the archbishops. Among the
silver things was an elaborately-worked image of
the Virgin and Child, a great curiosity, because it
was carried at the battle of Aljubarota by Don
Lourenzo, primate and rebuilder of the cathedral, to
inspirit the Portuguese soldiers. The mummy, which
was afterwards exhibited to us in the chapel of
Nosso Senhor do Livramento (Our Lord of the
Deliverance), is the corpse of this gallant churchman-
martial, who was wounded in that successful struggle
for the independence of Portugal. We were assured
that it was no mummy, that it had not been em-
balmed, but had been left to dry naturally, and had not
corrupted—a marvel attributed to the odour of his
sanctity. At the Batalha, one of our fellow-travellers
has seen a corpse in equal preservation, shown as
that of one of the sons of the victor at Aljubarota,
John I. That also is said not to have been embalmed,
ICU
78
CATHEDRAL
and its preservation is the more remarkable in that
damp and neglected edifice. We saw the chalice
used by the first Archbishop of Braga, Saint Gerald,
1113. We also saw this dignitary's pontifical dress,
and a curiously rich and heavy vestment worn by
some of the primates after the discovery of the
south-east passage to India, where it was wrought.
There was another chalice, fancifully worked in the
form of a Gothic church tower with little bells, and
inscribed with the date 1509. Several paintings and
prints of religious subjects and portraits were in the
sacristy, but none of much value. We are always
eagerly looking out for worthy specimens of pictorial
art, and almost always disappointed.
From the sacristy we went to see the 'Altar of
the Sacrament,' where is a highly curious and
ancient wood carving of the Church Triumphant;
an allegorical piece of many figures, all cut, and well
cut, in one massive piece of timber. In the Capella
inor, the great chapel, we saw the stone tombs of
the Conde Don Henrique and his wife Theresa, the
parents of Alfonso Henriques, first king of Portugal.
Near the main entrance to the Sé is a bronze monu-
ment to an Infante, who died at Braga, a son of
John I.
We next visited the gorgeous choir, with its rich
old wainscots and stalls of dark wood carved ; the
wainscotting is partly gilded.
We here examined also the double organ, so
much admired for its power of sound. We likewise
saw the ritual and breviary, black-letter on vellum,
from which the Mus-Arabic liturgy was performed,
as at Toledo. Our kind friend the canon conducted
BRAGA
79
us over every part of the cathedral. Thence, accom-
panied by Major B- , an officer on the staff here, we
visited several other churches and public buildings.
We then went to the Carvalheiras, the oak-trees,
where are several grand old oaks, some of the trunks
above sixteen feet in circumference; and here, front-
ing and flanking one side of the chapel of St.
Sebastian, are twelve of the tall, round, huge mile-
stones which the Romans placed on their five roads
that led from Braga to Astorga, &c. These twelve
were first removed to the great square, the Campo
de Sant'Anna, by one of the archbishops, and
subsequently by another, for yet greater security, to
this more retired part of the city. I shall have some-
thing more to say respecting them presently.
After our return to the inn, Os dous Amigos,
the two Friends, several persons called-for we had
more letters of recommendation than enough; and
some gentlemen rather awkwardly met in our room,
whom political antipathies usually kept out of each
other's company. Our friend the canon brought
his brother, a colonel in command of a regiment
stationed here, who'was most obliging.
Among other good offices, he civilised our arriero
for us by some menace which I did not clearly com-
prehend. The man, who knew Colonel P— , was
frightened and humbled, and begged the colonel to
say nothing to his master, so we hoped to have no
more trouble with him.
June 4.
At 8.30 A.M. we paid another visit to the cathedral,
and afterwards revisited the Carvalheiras, the oaks,
and the Roman milestones, the handsome Church of
80
NOSSO SENHOR DO MONTE
the Hospital, the Church of the Franciscan Nunnery
of the Remedios, and that of the Ursuline Nunnery.
The gentlemen returned the call of Mr. G- , who
was not at home, or probably was at his sesta, as it
was during the heat of the day that they called,
so we missed the view of some paintings by old
masters, to which he had promised us access in
several private houses. At half-past 4 P.M., we set
off for Nosso Senhor do Monte, accompanied by
Colonel P- , his brother the prebendary, Major
B— , and the adjutant of Colonel P 's regiment,
and Major P of the cavalry. We were a
clattering troop, for Portuguese cavaliers are rather
fond of keeping their horses in a fidget. J- , on
her white horse, which followed the example of the
others, was not half sure that she liked all that
prancing, but she soon became reconciled to it, and
then enjoyed it, till the party being misdirected up
the left side of the Mount, a very steep ascent, some
of the gentlemen persuaded her to alight and walk
with them to the top. There we met a gaudy pro-
cession, which was picturesque enough, with its
silken flags, its tinsel-decked images, in tinsel state
equipage, carried aloft on poles on men's shoulders.
These were preceded by a band of drummers who
belaboured their parchment lustily, and followed by
a train of holiday officials and gazers. From Braga
to the foot of this very remarkable eminence is
about, or above, two miles. We rode over a roughly
paved causeway the greater part of the way; the
country on each side rich and green. When we
reached the foot of the Mount we should have ridden
up a stone causeway, shaded on each side by a line
NOSSO SENHOR DO MONTE
81
of cork trees, then proceeded up a zigzag road, walled
in, and also flanked by fine oaks, the meeting
branches of which form a most agreeable roof,
allaying the glare not only of the sun but of the
newly whitewashed walls, for whitewashed they
always are the week before Whitsuntide, the week
of the great festival. We should have dismounted
at the gateway superscribed Jerusalem Renewed ;
there the acclivity is very steep, and we ought to
have pursued the zigzagged angularly walled road,
which is furnished at intervals with flights of steps
of polished stone, and pinnacled oratories right and
left all the way up, containing figures sculptured and
painted, as large as life, representing the Divine
Tragedy, the Last Supper of our Lord, His Suffer-
is a fountain received by a stone basin; there are
shaven edges of box along the walls. Then there
are allegorical figures of the five senses ; and figures
of saints. Then on a pedestal fixed on a huge round
stone, a statue of St. Longinus on horseback, spear
in hand. This is said to be a good sculpture, but is
just now disfigured with whitewash. It used to be
gilded. Above this, and near the top of the richly
do Monte, which we entered with difficulty, for great
was the press of devotees. In the sacristy is a large
and much-admired crucifix in ivory, the figure and
cross skilfully carved. Above this church, on the
flat head of the mountain, is an area enclosing
several chapels, gilded within and furnished with
statuary in the taste of the oratories below. The
site of the church and of these chapels is very fine.
82
NOSSO SENHOR DO MONTE
Huge mossy stones and rocks lie scattered about,
among the glades of the woods, or detached; and
the wide prospect of plains and forests, and fertile
fields, and swelling hills, and pointed peaks, is as
admirable as man may wish to look on.
I have only attempted to convey a general notion
of the sort of place, and I have not been very par-
ticular in my enumeration, nor in my description of
the various objects of devotional art with which
it superabounds. For the most part there is more
intensity of purpose manifest than skill in execution.
The mere virtuoso would turn away from most of the
details as libels on architecture, painting, or sculpture.
But look at those crowds of pilgrims. They are no
critics. Look in the faces of any twenty of them
who are assembled about any one of these chapels.
Surely Faith has led them hither, though Folly may
here have usurped some of her functions. You may
see that they have hearts, and that the spirit of the
place has found them.
This mountain, or rather the whole range, was
anciently called A Portella de Espinho, the thorny
passage. The name, allusive probably to the then
state of the Serra, a wilderness of thicket and bram-
ble, does not violently or inaptly give way to that
of Calvary, which the summit and the church of this
· Monte do Bom Jesus' now bear. Argote, in 1774,
gives an interesting account of the pomp of this
sanctuary as it was in his time. Barros, the his-
torian, two centuries earlier, mentions it as a simple
Ermida, the little chapel of St. Magdalen, with a cell
adjoining. The priest who occasionally officiated
there received as his due from the parishioners three
TEA-DRINK WITH NUNS
: 83
early ripe figs and a gourd of water. The chapel
was named after Mary Magdalen, and the parish was
then called Christina. There are two ways of con-
sidering such exhibitions of religious enthusiasm as
are seen here. For my part, I am unwilling to take
part with the scoffers.
We walked to the foot of the mountain by the
way already described as that by which visitors
usually make their approach. We then rode back to
Braga, and dismounted at a nunnery, at which the
Lady Abbess, through Colonel
P and the Conego,
had invited us to drink tea. It was the Convento
dos Remedios, the Franciscan, not the Ursuline,
which is also a noted nunnery here. The Abbess,
a stout, elderly person of cheerful aspect, two old
sisters, and three or four young nuns—one of them
pretty, another witty, and all merry-gaily bade us
welcome. We sat in the parlour, barred out from
the nuns by a double fence, two gratings of iron
about two yards apart, the inner one stronger and
more closely grated than the outer, but both open
enough to admit us to an easy view of the nuns'
figures and features, as they sat in semicircle
opposite to us, as blithe and talkative as caged
parrots, each range of bars being at least eight feet
square.
They gave us good tea, excellent sweetmeats, and
flowers. The latter they divided amongst us, not
without some arch allusion to “The language of
flowers,' which they seemed very well to understand.
To Jm and me they presented the first bouquets,
and the choicest. To Mr. -- and Mr. H ,
-
-
G 2
84
LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS
who were strangers also, they gave the flowers which,
I believe, had no meaning but that of an offering of
common courtesy To Major P- and the canon,
both of whom bandied irony with them, they gave
flowers intended to turn them into ridicule, which
produced a good deal of laughter, and animated the
merry warfare of words. The bouquets were passed
by a young nun through the rundle, or little rotatory
wicket at one corner; but never, when for a gentle-
man, without being first offered to the inspection
of the Abbess, who always assented to their delivery
without examining them. One of the young vestals
went out, and returned with a bunch of flowers,
which, after being thus held up to the Lady Abbess,
for form's sake, were handed by this pretty religieuse
to the Conego. Every blossom of which it was com-
posed was a satire on him: so he gaily revenged
himself by pretending to have found a billet-doux
concealed within it. He affected to put it hastily in
his pocket, and acted his part very well : but the
Abbess was nothing discomposed by all this innocent
raillery. The Abbess told me that she and her sister
had been imprisoned by Don Miguel, for two years
and more, as suspected Malhadas, or persons tainted
with Liberalism. What a churl must Don Miguel
have been ! As if a nunnery was not of itself prison
enough.
By-the-bye, this prince, during the siege of Oporto,
resided, for a short time, in the Archbishop's Palace
at Braga, and of course visited N. S. do Monte.
The canon assured me that on that occasion the
road, the walls, the trees on each side were loaded
with men, women, and children, who hailed him
QUINTA DE VISCAINHOS
85
with transports of loyalty, those who were on the
ground kneeling as he passed.
After taking our leave of those affable nuns, we
went to see the Quinta de Viscainhos, which was
tastefully laid out, and inclosed by walls with ram-
part walks, and turrets with eye-holes, commanding
agreeable views. Mr. — saw this quinta nearly
twenty years ago, and again in 1836. It was on his
first visit in better order than it has been since the
war of the brothers. The owner, as he was informed
in 1836, had expended so much money in enter-
tainments while Don Miguel was at Braga, that he
afterwards retired to his country seat to economise,
having let his quinta with the mansion to which it is
attached.
. We returned to the inn, with the companions of
our ride. Colonel P- had ordered the band of his
regiment to be in attendance. They played in the
square under the windows of our apartments till past
ten, when they were dismissed, and our friends left us
to rest, as we were to rise early. They had tried to
tempt us to stay at Braga over the next night, with
the promise of a ball, but we were unable to afford
the time, and anxious to be among the mountains of
Gerêz.
June 5.
We were to-day to look upon sterner forms of
mountains than we had yet seen. We rose at 3 A.M.,
and were out of Braga before 4 A.M. First to Car-
valho d'Este, à long league, uphill for the most
part, till, turning round about a quarter of a mile
before reaching that village, we got a noble view of
86
CARVALHO D'ESTE
Braga and its rich plain, and a glimpse of the western
ocean, just at sunrise. From this hill also we wit-
nessed the finest effect of vapour I have seen, except
once, in another mountain land, when descending
from the summit of . But there it was a pom-
pous army of clouds marching and deploying under
me; here it was one vast stiff body of whitest fog
imbedded on our left in the deep valley which it
filled, and so motionless, so fast asleep, as if it would
never wake or stir to the call of the winds, and as if
it were impermeable to the sun, and lay there as a
shroud to some great mystery. We proceeded over
hills green with fern, rhododendron, laurustinus, and
gay with a thousand flowers, gum-cistus, heaths
white and red, yellow gorse, yellow broom and white,
wild mignonette, yellow jessamine, clematis, lavender,
heartsease, white thorn, dog rose white and red, and
thousands, thousands more, all, or most of them, in
bloom, all sending forth an exhalation of rich dis-
tilled perfumes'; and scattered among this wilderness
of sweets were huge grey stones, or rather hillocks of
stone; further off were stony mountains of similar
appearance to these hillocks, but in parts well
sprinkled with trees, oaks, cork-trees, beeches, and
interspersed with the birch, the wild almond, and many
others of the minor sylva. Our route lay through
the villages of Pinheiro and Anjaes, leaving on our
right the lone steep crag on which stands the church
of N. S. do Pilar and the old tower of a castle in
which Alfonso Henriques, if the legend be true, im-
prisoned his mother. Both are striking objects,
which we proposed to visit on our return. A little
incident that occurred as we passed through the next
THE VALE OF LIGHT
87
small village (Val de Luz) produced from one of our
party the following :-
, LYRICS ON HORSEBACK.
In Val de Luz, the Vale of Light,
A hamlet neither fair nor bright
That valley's title bears-
(As honours oft, by merit won,
Descend to some ignoble son,
Or wealth to worthless heirs).
A narrow street of squalid huts,
Fierce-visaged men, and fiercer sluts
With eyes and elk-locks black,
And earth-brown features grinning scoin
The passing stranger seems to warn-
* Beware of an attack!' .
Such hints are spurs; but yet the last
Ill-omened shed was scarcely past,
When checkt was every steed!
What stops us here ?-a torrent strong,
A mighty flood of glorious song,
Indignant of our speed.
The Nightingale of lusty lungs,
The bird that has the gift of tongues,
The key to every breast;
'Twas he, that as we rode along
Waylaid us with a force of song,
And held us in arrest.
No wanderer through a dark pine-wood
To brigand mandate ever stood
More suddenly than we;
Stopt by a bird in open day,
An Attic bird that ambushed lay
Behind an olive tree !
This is no mere fancy versified. The fact happened
as it was told. J and I, Mr. — and Mr. H-,
88
A ROADSIDE WIZARD
all pulled up at once, as if at the word of command.
The servants being behind us could not do otherwise.
There, on our left, in an olive-tree close to the road,
• the cunning master of the spell’ was hidden. The
tramp of our cavalcade and our abrupt halt did not
disturb him. He continued to cheer the village
with his song,' and us too, till at last we broke
away.
Igreja Nova (new church, which might now be
called Igreja Velha, from the aged appearance of its
stone church) and Posadouro were the next villages
we passed. As far as the latter place and a little
further, you are on the road from Braga to Sala-
monde; but not far beyond Posadouro, you have the
Salamonde road above you on the right, and take
the lower road down, or down and up to the Gerêz.
But less than a mile before you thus diverge from
the Salamonde road, there are on the left several
eminences, from which are to be seen prospects that
when once seen are not to be forgotten. The first
of these memorable views opened upon us as we
rambled off the road among the hills on the left,
and the eminence from which we witnessed it
chanced to be the very point of view that we had
been cautioned by Captain and Mrs. De not to
miss; but as we were not aware that we were so
near the turning off to Gerêz, about which they had
warned us, it came upon me, as it had at first done
upon our friends, with all the force of a surprise.
From a green ferny slope, about which are scattered
huge smooth brown and black stones, .dropt in
Nature's careless haste, you all at once descry the
deep, rich, very green and woody Valley of the
GERÊZ
89
Cávado; a long and narrow and tortuous pass,
through which the eye may trace the river almost
as one might fancy from its cradle near Montalegre
(where by-the-bye are antiquities worthy of note),
winding far away westward, for the prospect ex-
tends both up and down the river, of course at two
views, right and left, from this acclivity. But the
mountains of Gerêz, thus abruptly brought home
to us, engage the sight for some minutes to the
exclusion of other details. There they are in grim
repose”; and my first sensation was as if I had
suddenly perceived a lion sleeping across my path.
I mean that the grandeur and air of power in repose
of those heights, unexpectedly discovered so near,
convey an impression of awe akin to that which
might be produced by such an adventure as meeting
a lion couchant, real, not heraldic, though of course
without the fear and the retrograde impulse that
would be produced by such perilous propinquity to
the great wild cat, who is called the king of beasts.
There are several views, each varying in character
from other eminences here, on the left side of the
road equally good, I think, with this (which I call
'D-~'s station,' because he marked it out to us),
but none perhaps that would produce quite so striking
an affect of awe after this view was first seen. The
contrast between our side of the river, with all its
depths and undulations of verdure, at once graceful
and noble, and that stern rugged husk of the Gerêz,
stony and bare and steep, is indescribably solemn.
Those mountains, as viewed from this quarter, are a
heap of crags, ridges, and peaks, so fantastic in their
outlines and angles, that in parts their features might
90
RIO CALDO
be called elegant, if the whole effect was not too
grand for such an epithet, and if they did not seem
more like elements of chaos than like forms which
plastic Nature had handled with care.
On quitting the Salamonde road for that of the
Caldas, turning our backs on the Cávado, to meet a
smaller but as bright and spirited a river, the Rio
Caldo, the ride became more difficult than it had
hitherto been; for the ways were steep, narrow, and
rugged, dipping and rising and twisting most un-
easily; as they led us through several scattered
hamlets of one name, as we understood, Caniçada,
then by Bouças, and by Villar da Veiga to the
Caldas. But the views were ample compensation
for the heat and fatigue endured. Nothing could be
more beautiful than the richly wooded slopes shelv-
ing down the river; and (as seen through glades of
groves of oak and chestnut, and often over the heads
of these and other lively green trees, so steep were
some of the rocky and ferny declivities on which
they flourished) nothing could be grander than those
formidable mountains, with the many-tinted river,
chafing and foaming and shining over its stony
channel, yet so translucent that the great rocks under
water in the deeper parts of its bed, as well as on
its borders, were as distinct to the eye as if no river
covered them. This clearness was the happy
accident of the fine weather in which we were
travelling. The Caldo, which is always a river
running with a young man's speed,' must have a
very different appearance when swollen and turbid
with heavy rains or the melting of the snows of the
Serra. On our right, too, all the way from Posadouro,
BOUÇAS
91
as we went up and down and wound along our hill-
sides, there were stony and woody mountains which
would have engaged more of our admiration else-
where ; but in the vicinity of the Cávado valleys
and the glens of the Caldo, and the Gerêz Serra, we
had not much to spare for them.
Admirable was every part of this day's ride, and
even the stoic philosophy might forget the cold
egotism of the motto nil admirari in such a wonder-
ful country. I must confess, however, that the
fatigue, under a burning sun which we could not
always escape, was sometimes too much for me, and
it seemed as if we should never reach Villar da
Veiga, our resting-place, one league short of Gerêz.
The village of Bouças lay, as it appeared, at our feet
at every other turn, and then away we went again,
leaving it behind us :-
The long rough road, returning in a round,
Mocked our impatient steps, for all was fairy ground.'
But the groves of ilex, chestnuts, ash-trees, plane-
trees, and even of olives (picturesque, as I have
before remarked, when grouped on uneven surfaces
though not so on plains), and the ever-recurring
ramadas of vine, were refreshing and cheering, the
more so for that fierce, bald background of the
Serra. At last we did plunge down into Bouças;
we crossed and recrossed the river over a bridge of
wood and another of stone, both narrow and without
rail or parapet, and therefore somewhat unpleasant
to ladies' nerves. Then we worked up and down,
chiefly up, to the village of Villar da Veiga, which is
a pretty place, and by the aid of comfortable archi-
92
CALDAS DE GERÊZ
tecture might become quite attractive. In front of
a hut, which is the venda or wine-house, is a sort of
Champs Elysées, but more worthy of the name than
the Elysian fields at Paris; for here it is a grove of
strong-armed and wide-spreading oaks, on one side
bordered by the river, over which is a solid stone
bridge, parapeted.
As soon as we arrived, hooks were screwed to
four trees, and my Indian hammock and J- 's
were slung. Into them we got without delay and
were asleep in five minutes; a tiny clear brooklet
tinkling along just under us on its way to the river.
While we slept, the gentlemen had our cold dinner
set out on a table, also al fresco. When all was
prepared we were called, and after we had dined
under the oaks, we retired to our hammocks again,
and slept for two or three hours more under the
greenwood trees, till man and horse were ready to
start. J-- mounted, singing :-
• Come, stain your cheeks with nuttle berry,
You'll find the gipsy's life is merry.'
But she, poor girl ! is in no need of the gipsy cosmetic,
for sun and air on this tour have already stained her
cheeks nut-brown. We were on horseback again at
4 P.M., and rode leisurely up to the Caldas, which is
itself on high ground, though at the foot of the grim
mountain. A nearer approach to the Serra by no
means abated our sense of its dignity.
The village of Caldas de Gerêz is small, comprising
but a few cottages and several lodging-houses; all
the latter and most of the former shut up and deserted,
except for two or three months in the season, which
CALDAS DE GERÊZ
93
had not yet commenced, for its hot baths. The
natural heat of the springs is about as much as the
hand may comfortably bear. The street is intersected
with rivulets, which, being cold, seemed to be the
very paradise of frogs : they were leaping and croak-
ing in every direction, and they serenaded us all
night.
We had taken the precaution, conformably to
advice given us at Oporto, to bring two days' proven-
der from Braga, and also to send on a person from
Villar da Veiga to open one of the lodging-houses
for us; for there is absolutely no accommodation of
any description to be had here. We were, therefore,
introduced into an empty house : but with the ham-
mocks, &c., that we brought, and the civility of the
two or three persons who came with our messenger
from Villar da Veiga, we did well enough. We had
tea without milk, and bread without butter (next
morning at breakfast the same)—no great penalty for
curiosity that had been so abundantly gratified. By-
the-bye, how the cuckoos played at hide-and-seek
among the mountains on our ride from Braga !
O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice ?'
And how we flushed the red-legged partridges, whir,
whir, whir, among the underwood, and even on the
dusty, lonesome roadsides; the hen bird, followed by
her small brood, usually taking the alarm first, while
the bold male challenged and scolded us, and almost
suffered himself to be rode up to, before he took
to flight.
94
FROGS
Were the relative height of mountains to deter-
mine their influence on the mind, those of Gerêz
would hold a subordinate rank among Alpine subli-
mities. The loftiest of the range is less than 4,000
feet high, not so high as the Righi or Ben Nevis,
not higher, perhaps, than Snowdon, nor much supe-
rior to Scawfell, Helvellyn, and Skiddaw, and far less
elevated than the Marão, the Estrella, and some
other Portuguese Serras. But at Gerêz, as at Cintra,
it is by the peculiar characteristics, rather than by
the vastness and elevation of the range, that we are
affected with admiration. Many a mountain of more
than thrice the altitude of either of these, is compara-
tively barren of effect. Without considerable height,
it is true, there can be no mountain worthy of the
name; but I doubt whether an ascent of even 2,000
or 3,000 feet only, if striking by its position, noble
in form and outline, and grand in features of wood,
water, and rock, may not, in all its combinations and
contrasts, produce as full a sense of Alpine sublimity
as any Alps or Andes that ever awed the heart of
man.
June 6.
“There is but one step,' said the modern pioneer
of the Alps, from the sublime to the ridiculous.'
The croaking of the frogs all night made it impossible
for us to sleep. I suppose these creatures give up
possession of the Caldas village when the bathers
come. If not, how can the hapless invalids derive
benefit from hot baths, unless deafness be part of the
complaint? And then, if the waters should cure the
deafness, one night's concert of frogs would, I think,
make the patient wish himself deaf again.
MULE IN A PANIC
95
We were up before daylight, and resumed our ride
about sunrise, but were long covered from the sun by
the mountains.
A little adventure occurred just after we had
started. The mule, who is a lady of capricious dis-
position, and sometimes a downright termagant,
shocking our ears with her horrible bray, and laying
about with her heels in a most unladylike fashion,
took one of her wicked fits as soon as she came to a
bad place. She pretended to be frightened at an old
woman, started aside with one resolute plunge, dis-
lodged from her back the muleman (who had again
been permitted to mount), and nearly deposited the
that foamed deep below under a precipice. She
scrambled up again, however; the arriero had fallen on
his head and was uninjured, and Mr. H- remained
near him, while he and Grenho readjusted the cargo,
and expostulated with the mule. We met two
peasant-sportsmen with rifles, going, they said, to
shoot deer on Gerêz; another, who told us he was
going to shoot wild goats. Wolves are said to abound
in this neighbourhood. Mr. — and J— and I
rode on through Villar da Veiga and the other villages
which we passed yesterday, now and then leaving
the road to hunt for prospects, often with success,
till we arrived at the place where we yesterday left
the Salamonde road; but wishing to see D.'s Station
again, we rode on towards Braga for above half or
three-quarters of a mile further. Having then visited
the station, we returned and took the way to Sala-
face; majestic in every point of view, but so scarred
96
SALAMONDE
UC
and rent and bare of soil, as to look like mountain
majesty in rags, but without the least loss of dignity :
it wore its guise of poverty so greatly. The road, a
good one, and pleasant maugre the heat, was high on
the side of a green sylvan mountain, through several
villages, and through noble groves, woods of chest-
nut-trees, whose hearts were grey and broken and
hollow with extreme old age, while their massive,
leafy heads were as green and fruitful as youth. On
our left was the Cavado and its valley, and the Gerêz,
which now showed still loftier peaks than we had
seen yesterday. All the last league (say four leagues)
to Salamonde opens out prospects wonderfully fine.
About mid-day we arrived at Salamonde, a village
on the mountain border of this province, Ruivaens
being in the Tras os Montes. Mr. H-- (sleepy,
dreamy, dumby and blindy, as we often jestingly call
him), who had kindly remained with the servants
and mule to superintend their movements, performed
capital service to-day, and quite redeemed his cha-
racter; for, knowing that we must have advantage
of time over him, he struck up by a short cut, mule
and all, though with difficulty, and got into the vil-
lage long enough before us to make some preparations
at the inn. The first thing we did was to send for
the schoolmaster and an old woman, to each of whom
we had to deliver a message and a parcel from Oporto.
This commission executed, our gentlemen set about
arrangements for dinner, resolved to have a feast;
but first, the ladies' hammocks were slung in one of
the rooms, that we might rest before dinner as usual.
Having brought fowls, we had the potage, which the
Portuguese call calda de galinha ; two tender fowls
SOULT'S PASS
.
97
(rare), one boiled, one roasted—both hot; a cold
Melgaço ham; roast beef out of one of our tin cases
of preserved meat, which proved excellent when
heated; good bread, and clean salt; we had also a
bottle of Scotch ale, and a bottle of champagne-all
of which things we brought with us--the latter from
our friend at Barcellos; and we did fare sumptuously.
Nothing like mountain air to make bad fare good
and good fare exquisite.
But though thus brought down by toil and
hunger to such kitchen and cellar joys, we had not
forgotten that we had objects of more interest to
look after, and our having dined well in no degree
blunted the edge of appetite for those. So when the
heat of the day began to slacken, we got again on
horseback, taking no servant, and we went eagerly
in quest of the bridges by which Soult retreated, as
described with interest almost romantic by Southey,
Napier, the Frenchman Noble, &c. &c. From none
of these, but from a friend who has been here before,
and who is now riding at my side, I take the descrip-
tion of this famous pass :— The road from Sala-
monde, which place stands high on the Serra de
Viana, though sheltered, is at first partly cut through
sandstone, which banks it on both sides; then it
opens out over a space purple with heather, and green
with ilex and fern, arborescent heather, tall fern, and
gum-cistus, &c., an open view for some distance all
round: with here and there steep and deep ravines
and gullies ; some of these pits filled with woods of
ilex, &c. Then the road becomes steeply tortuous,
down towards the Cávado that flows between this
Serra de Viana and the grander and more rugged
E
98
SOULT'S PASS
Serra de Gerêz: the way thus drops crookedly
through wilds of tall heather, intermingled with
dwarf-oak, going sheer down in places as if much
ploughed by torrents, but not difficult of descent
with such sure-footed horses as ours had proved
to be. Presently the bridge of Ponte Nova, the
Saltador, is seen deep below you through a grove of
olive-trees, under which tall ferns, &c., grow luxuri-
antly—a scene altogether wild and pleasant to
travellers at their ease like ourselves. The Rio de
Ruivaens, that flows under the Saltador (or Ponte
Nova) is a mere shallow brawling brook in dry
weather, tumbling along noisily over a channel of
smooth stones, and between large blocks of grey and
white granite, the upper parts of which are tinged
with lichens. The views from its borders upon both
sides have a wild richness ; on the left are castle-like
crags, with a foreground of hills and slopes, verdant
with ilex and rough with stones and gorse, &c.; on
the right are rude hills, where oaks grow among
smooth stones and rugged rocks. The banks of this
torrent stream, the Rio de Ruivaens, which joins the
Cávado a little below the Ponte Nova, are margined
with yellow flowering broom, ilex, heather, gum-
cistus, and other plants: the water is white and
transparent; and a mere toy for an angler just now.
How different was it on that dismal night of storm
and rain, when Soult and his thousands were hurry-
ing over it, while the floods were out, and
“The angry spirit of the water shrieked !”
the English cannon (though but one gun was up,
the echoes must have made it seem twenty), thunder-
ing upon them, and plunging into their serried
SOULT’S PASS
.
99
masses ! The bridge (Ponte Nova) is one-arched,
and of solid stone; the arch is by no means lofty,
and there is nothing in its appearance to account for
its name of Saltador, the Leaper; so no wonder that
Colonel Napier and others have made a mistake in
transferring this name to another bridge, the
Miserella, to which we shall come presently. Hav-
ing proceeded along the left bank of the Rio de
Ruivaens, up-stream, we crossed the bridge, turned
sharp to the left, down the stream on the right bank,
and then the road, leaving this stream, wound off to
the right, up the left bank of the Cávado, which was
here and there whitened with natural water-breaks.
The road was here good and level, of fair white sand-
stone, and its breadth might vary from four to six
feet; it led us through a grove of oaks and old
chestnuts, then over a stone causeway, and little
bridge that spans a winter-torrent course, now dry.
To the left, wherever we wound, the rocky mountains
on the opposite side of the river on the right bank
faced us closely; to the right we were always greeted
by the richer mountains of the left bank. So the
road winds along; now again a steep slope, after
having been level for a while, again through a grove
of chestnuts, and again over a torrent-course, bridged
with rough stones, and shortly afterwards another,
where the road roughens. The herbage of the hills
now becomes more scanty, and the way more stony,
till on the left is a picturesque waterfall of which the
accompaniments are both striking and pleasing; for
above the rocky chasm from which it flows is a bold
embattled crag, so exactly like a fortress that the
delusion was complete for a minute : the water falls
C
H 2
100
SOULT'S PASS
behind, and as it were into, a little steep wood, in
which it is lost; and on the lower skirt of this wood
hang some fresh little pastures. Beyond, the valley
expands and the verdure becomes richer; olive trees,
oaks supporting vines, and even fields of maize,
appear in gay relief to the severe background of
rough peaks. Here, I think, we lose the Cávado.
Leaving it on our left, and turning to the right up
the left bank of the Rio de Venda Nova, another
stream, which joins the Cávado a short distance
behind us, we proceed through the village of Os
Frades do Pinheiro (where there is no pine-tree, but
a fine chestnut-tree, of great girth), up and down
a winding, narrow, and rough road, which twists
through masses of great rocks, as the stream itself
does, till we reach the lofty bridge of the Miserella,
whose one tall arch does indeed leap boldly across
the roaring water, and might therefore well be mis-
taken for the Saltador. The power of this torrent
when swollen is attested by the enormous piles of
granite that are worn and drilled into holes and
cavities, and into all sorts of shapes, and about which,
even in this calm and dry weather, it foams and
rattles, and plunges as a waterfall just above the
bridge. The view up and down, and on every side
from the bridge of Miserella, is rocky and savage;
but not without the grace of evergreen oaks and cork-
trees, which do not at all detract from the wildness
of the scene. This track is little known, except
to the Almocréves of Montalegre, Chaves, and the
Spanish frontier, and to the contrabandistas of the
border, to whom it is familiar, and one of whom was
the guide and saver of Soult's army. The minute-
HAMMOCKS UNSHIPPED
101
ness, therefore, and perhaps tediousness of the
description may on both those accounts be tolerated.
To old Peninsular campaigners this “pass of peril”
has always been of peculiar interest since that fearful
night when Soult and his battalions crushed through
it, so soon after their ruthless triumph at Oporto.'
The sun had set before we left the bridge of
Miserella, yet we were not in darkness; for not only
were there visible stars, but to J- 's great satis-
faction, as she first observed it, there was a thin
crescent moon, with its circle completed by a dark
ring, reminding us of the fine old ballad of Sir
Patrick Spence'-
· Yestreen I saw the old moon
With the young moon in her arms.'
We arrived late at Salamonde, but without having
lost our way; for in going we had made accurate
observations, without which, in that doubtful light,
we might have been puzzled on our return by the
many divergent paths. We supped on a soup which
the gentlemen pronounced worthy of les trois frères
provençaux, though it came out of one of our tin
cases, where it had been for two or three years, and
it only required fire for a few minutes. As Mr.
He had the previous night, at Gerêz, slept upon
a bare table, Mr. thought it but fair this night
to offer him the third hammock, which he also had
only used once (at Gerêz). Mr. — therefore
committed himself to the mercy of one of two very
dubious-looking beds; for this inn of Salamonde
was not a cleanly house, though the old host and his
respectable-looking old wife and two daughters were
very civil persons, to us at least.'
102
MULE-BELL LULLABY
Mr. —- had not been long in bed before he
became aware that he was self-sacrificed to the little
black skipping demon whose name is Legion.
Mr. H- blundered about for two hours before he
could fix his hammock; at last he got into it, and,
having done so, as Mr. - informs us, with an
"Oh-how-comfortable sort of flounce, he resigned
himself for some moments to the 'sober certainty
of waking bliss,' preparatory to the sleeping bliss in
which his fancy revelled ; then his contented Good-
night' gave notice that he was about to drink deep
of the luxury of rest, so he gave himself one last
comfortable turn, and the hammock one good swing,
and down came he and the hammock, hooks and all,
and brought him to the floor, where he lay struggling
and chafing in the dark for a quarter of an hour,
head and feet entangled in the meshes of the ham-
mock net, before he could rise and grope his way to
the vacant mattress. The tapage was so great that
we, in an adjoining room, were for a moment alarmed,
but the roars of laughter from. Mr. —- soon re-
assured us; and I do believe he laughed all night at
his friend's disaster. J---- soon was asleep, in spite
of the noise ; and after last night's wakefulness,
I would gladly have slept, too, but I again found it
impossible. There was an incessant jingling of
mule-bells in the stable right under us, which was
unfortunately full of cargo-mules; this inn being a
resting-place for the almocréves (mule-drivers or
carriers) on their way to and from Montalegre,
Chaves, the Spanish frontier, &c.
The mules, which are never allowed to lie down,
but are always tied up short, have for their night-
caps the same bell-gear which they wear by day;
LANDLORD LOCKED OUT
103
so that, whether they are munching their milho and
straw, or nid-nid-nodding as they stand asleep, it is
one perpetual motion of sound-jingle, jingle—from
numerous little brass bells. The almocréves have
the odd notion-or perhaps they pretend, to avoid
the trouble of grooming their beasts-that the bells
both cheer and lull the mules, and that they would
neither work nor sleep without them ; just as the
carters profess that the oxen would not draw well if
the revolving axles of the cart-wheels were greased.
In that ear-excruciating wheel-music, however, there
is one advantage : it warns the far-off rider or driver
that a cart is coming, in the narrow and intricate
lanes of Portugal, where there may be neither room
to pass nor turn. An English surveyor would say, .
· Widen your lanes, grease your wheels, and have
mercy on your beasts.' But oh, frogs of Gerêz! and
oh, mule-bells of Salamonde ! 'Oh, to forget you,
thrilling through my head !!
Another incident may be mentioned among
the humours of the night, though we were but indi-
rectly concerned in it. We ladies had, by the recom-
mendation of the old host's two daughters, locked
the passage door, which, as we understood, shut in
no room but our own. But through that passage, it
seems, the elders of the family should have passed
to their room. The old people, therefore, could not
get to bed, and they sat up in the kitchen, for
the old landlord was too polite to let us be dis-
turbed, though he was impolite enough to permit
himself to beat his respectable old wife for an
accident which was in no way her fault. This
ungracious fact was reported to us next day by
our man, Grenho.
104
POVOA DE LANHOSO
June 7. **
Our host made out a heavy bill for us in the
morning, to indemnify himself, I suppose, for having
been excluded from his chamber. We did not demur
to the payment, though we had really had next to
nothing but what was our own.: We set off again
at daybreak, and reversed the ride of yesterday as
far as the turn-off of the Geira road; then we bore to
the left (revisiting D-—'s favoured station), through
Posadouros, Igreja Nova, and Val de Luz, as on the
5th, only retracing our way till, from the latter
place, we went to the left again; on to Povoa de
Lanhoso, where we halted all through the heat of
the day. Though in getting to this place we passed
over a fine bold country, everything appeared tame
after Gerêz: everything but that bluff crag. already
alluded to, of Our Lord of the Pillar. We rode for
some time over an open heath before we reached
Lanhoso, which is a very pretty place, standing, as
Braga does, in the centre of a rich undulating plain,
and having, like Braga, its Holy Hill near, and its
circuit of mountain-barrier complete in the distance.
A wet Sunday. Far more rain fell to-day in a
few hours than in all the days put together since
we have been out on our tour. Lucky that we were
well and commodiously housed. In crossing the
little square to the church close at hand, we hardly
escaped a thorough wetting. About three or four
o'clock the sky cleared, and we walked to the Con-
vento da Costa—of course, no longer a convent-
THE CONVENT OAK :
105
most beautifully situated on a hill a mile from the
town. In the church is a good organ. The orna-
mental grounds behind the convent are handsome.
There is a noble wide flight of stone steps to the
convent front, which faces Guimaraens. You
approach it between two lines of stately oaks, one of
which is a grand tree. But the great lion or lioness
of trees is one of the two carvalhas (female oaks)
for which the convent is famed. It stands at the
end of.what was formerly the monks' bowling-green,
at the back of the building, and 'is supposed,' says
Urcullu (in his . Elementary Treatise on Geography,'
published 1837), “to be coeval with the monastery,'
that is, above seven hundred years old. We mea-
sured this tree. It was 321 feet (English) in cir-
cumference close to the ground, 27 feet 4 inches at
about a yard above the surface of the roots—no such
vast girth compared with many well-known oaks.
It is indeed a grand and flourishing tree, with broad
and picturesque ramifications, but the trunk is not
one bole for above two yards, when it forks off into
two minor trunks, as it were. The lowliness of the
main support detracts from the majesty of its aspect.
What tales could this old tree tell us if it was a
"talking oak,' a ' babbler in the land,' like Mr. Alfred
Tennyson's! But, being a female tree, she has all
the discretion proper to her sex, and is not given to
garrulity even in old age. In her infancy she prob-
ably saw Affonso Henriques, the founder of the
convent. She grew up with the monkrchy, streng-
thened with its strength, and like an insensible
ingrate (hard wood' she is, and wrinkled rind'),
she has kept up her heart through all the sad changes
106
GUIMARAENS
and decline of the realm, and is vigorous yet, though
more than two lustres have passed since she saw the
last of her Jeronymites. They were shadows-she
is substance.
Guimaraens is not a place to be seen in a day or
two, even with advantages of fine weather and a resi-
dent cicerone, both of which were wanting to us: the
latter we might probably have had if a more favour-
able state of the atmosphere had made it worth while
for us to deliver our letters of introduction. We were
beaten home by the rain, on our way to the castle, a
remnant of no small note, for it was the habitation
of Count Henry and Theresa, and the ruin is haunted
with a tradition that might furnish matter for a score
of historical romances. We missed, too, our intended
circuit of the old town walls, which we would have
gladly made for the sake of the royal architect,
King Denis the Poet, who was a great patron of
masons, a builder of lofty walls if not of lofty rhyme.
Camoens says of him :-
• Nobres villas de novo edificou,
Fortalezas, castellos mui seguros ;
E quasi o Reino todo reformou,
Com edificios grandes, e altos muros.'
Old towns he built anew, superbly planned,
And towers of strength and gallant castles reared,
Till, with its pride of walls and domes, the land
As if a realm re-edified appeared.'
But Guimaraens, the cradle of the Portuguese mon-
archy, owes less of its repute, I fear, 'in these
degenerate days,' to its antiquity and history than to
those gaily-papered circular boxes of delicious plums
that make the name familiar to many an English
nursery.
VIZELLA
107
June 9.
The rain, which poured all night, did not cease
at daybreak, and we did not get away till 9 A.M.
But we were little or not at all incommoded by slight
showers that fell in the course of the day. We first
rode to the baths of Vizella, about a league distant.
There is more than one village of this name on the
river so called. The Caldas de Vizella are in a most
beautiful locality. In the hollow of a green basin is
an open space with baths, pleasure walks, and houses
round it, and this basin is within a rich valley with
vineyards and fields of Indian corn, &c., and pastures
and meadows. Timber trees, fruit trees, and copse-
wood happily intermingled, and a bright river runs
rapidly across the valley, which is, moreover, shut in
by an amphitheatre of hills of irregular elevation, and
of all sorts of picturesque forms, clad half-way up
with oaks, chestnuts, and cork-trees, and then to the
top crowded with enormous blocks of granite, multi-
form as if they had been shaped by the genius of
variety. The road to Vizella from Guimaraens winds
for two miles through a most fertile and carefully
tilled country, and for about two miles more it has
the additional advantage of being part of the admir-
able new road from Oporto to Guimaraens, which was
not quite completed when we were there.
On a rock overhanging the river is a beautiful
Swiss cottage, the property of Mr. W— , an English
merchant of Oporto, who had kindly offered me the
loan of it for any number of days that we might find
it convenient to remain here. · Unfortunately, we
could not avail ourselves of the offer. I mention
108
VILLARINHO
it to gratify my own feeling in regard to this specimen
of Portonian kindnesses to an invalid stranger, who
had only left my native hills for a warmer climate,
as a rain-vexed bird comes out from the wood to dry
its feathers in the sun and take a strong flight home
again.
We rode up to the church, which stands on a hill,
to obtain of the curate, who dwells close by, any
information about Roman remains in this neighbour-
hood. Mr. H went in to speak to him, and after
a conference that lasted a quarter of an hour, came
out with a misdirection to Villarinho, about a league
up some stiff country, almost wholly out of our way.
When we got to this Villarinho, under the guidance
of a good-natured peasant, we found nothing but a
modern old chapel, and could neither see nor hear of
a vestige of Roman antiquity hereabouts. We have
nevertheless been since assured that we were very
near what we were in quest of. Our ride over hills
and heaths and happy-looking valleys was pleasant
in spite of a vile bewildering · road, which was the
worse trial to our patience, because we knew that we
were all the way near the excellent new road, from
which we ought not to have deviated on a wild-goose
chase, leaving a trusty guide for one that might our
steps betray. In vain did we try to revenge our-
selves on Mr. H—-. His imperturbable good
humour baffled our malice, and here, as throughout
our tour, it was impossible for us, under any mis-
chance, to be long or seriously discomposed in the
presence of so much equanimity.
That dreamy, quiet, clever Mr. He is gone far,
far away to the New World. When last we heard
MR. H.
109
of him, he was among the 'smart men 'who dwell
in Natchez. I should not be at all surprised, when
next we receive tidings of him, to learn that he is
smoking his cigar among the Coctaw or Chickasaw
Indians. I hope he is not as irrecoverably gone from
us as the treacherous Bonds of Missisippi. If these
pages should ever reach his hand, some of them may
serve to light his amber-mouthed meerschaum ; but
this one page he will preserve; for I think he will
not be sorry to know that in sending him our Minho
tour in a printed form, both Mr. and I echo,
in regard to him, the words of a venerable bard
addressed to a valued friend and fellow-traveller in
Italy :-
Companion !
These records take, and happy should "we" be
Were but the gift a meet return to thee
For kindnesses that never ceased to flow,
And prompt self-sacrifice to which “we” owe
Far more than any heart but "ours" can know.'
We halted near a village, named, if I recollect
rightly, Agrella ; and while the horses and mule were
led to the estalágem for rest and refreshment, we
chose our bivouac, for we were no sleepers to-day, in
a charming spot by the banks of a clear little river,
and there we had our luncheon in a grove of oaks
that hid their knotted knees in fern. We had gray
stones for seats, and for our table a plane of granite,
that seemed made for the purpose, for it was just of
the most convenient height and dimensions. The
river looked as if it ought to be full of trout; so one
of our party employed himself for two hours in tempt-
ing them to come and be killed': but the trout, if
110
LONDON-MADE FLIES
there were any, did not understand London-made
flies, and we had the pleasure of laughing at him for
his want of skill, at which he was rather piqued-
exactly what we meant him to be ; but the moment
he found that out he spoiled the joke by joining in
the laugh, and putting up his reel and rod.
Our horses were now ready. We left the men
and mule to come on at their leisure, and rode on
merrily, cantering almost all the way over the new
road to Oporto, and thence back to the Foz. We
had had a series of trying rides, and now and then
rough accommodations, but the Lima might be Lethe
enough to make us forget all poor troubles, and the
noble Gerêz is enough to make us in love with them,
if they cannot be forgotten. To propitiate our
piscator for my betrayal of his ill success in the art
and mystery of angling, I will here insert the ungal-
lant man's apotheosis of Gerêz.
SERRA OF GERÊZ.
Were I an idol to adore,
Nor glittering gems nor golden ore
Could so pervert my mind;
Nor Man, nor Woman, nor the Moon,
Nor Sun, the most divine-like boon
That cheereth mortal kind.
The Moon, than Woman lovelier far,
Is yet but an unsteady star,
In growth or on the wane;
Like Woman's too her smiles are sad,
And make the earnest gazer mad
At springtide of the brain.
Mr. Quillinan.
ODE
The dazzling God of olden days,
Veiled in a mystery of rays,
Hath still too many a shrine ;
Too many a Poet's heart supplies
A vainly burning sacrifice
To Phoebus and the Nine.
The strange immeasurable Deep,
Low panting in his awful sleep,
. A God benign might seem;
But I too oft have seen him wake,
With every wave a hissing snake,
More dreadful than a dream.
So none of these, Moon, Sun, nor Sea,
The idol of my choice should be,
Though all have had their praise,'
I'd ask of Nature to supply
Some fixed transcendent majesty
Like thee, sublime Gerêz !
Girt with a stedfast cloud of pines,
His star-loved head above them shines
Serener than a star,
While Eagles with a desert voice
Around their Father-king rejoice,
Or hail him from afar.
Behold the mighty Serra stand,
Grim Patron of a smiling land;
His bounty never fails,
And freely from his generous veins
He yields the streams that feed the plains,
The lifeblood of the vales.
When stormy uproar round him raves,
When winds howl wolf-like in his caves,
And through his forests chide,
A type he stands of sufferance meek :
The peevish tempests smite his cheek,
The lightnings pierce his side;
112
THE FOZ DESERTED
And when their idle rage is o’er,
More like a God he seems to soar
And shine with all his fountains-
Yet, lip to earth, on height like this,
'Tis but a footstool that I kiss
Of HIM who made the mountains.
We were the last of the lingerers at the Foz. Portu-
guese and English had all returned to their homes,
by the end of October: gladly would we have re-
mained through November, but the weather was so
wild and boisterous, no St. Martin's summer this
year, that we were fairly driven up to the city-a
fortnight sooner than we had intended.
How amusingly un-English was this removal.
The house was not a house rented for the season, but
belonged to our friend, and the furniture belonged to
the house, and yet every article of furniture had to be
removed to Oporto, and with the exception of two or
three small wagon-loads of kitchen goods, mattresses,
and such things as could not be injured by jolting,
everything was carried up by the carreteiras. Be-
tween thirty and forty of these merry, laughing, joking
girls assembled themselves round the street door early
in the morning; and there they waited until they were
admitted, about a dozen at a time, into the room
where the several packages were arranged ; and it
was amusing to observe what a rush was made
towards the burthens that looked the lightest or
most convenient for transfer, and how quickly they
were deserted for others if the band discovered that
the eye had proved a treacherous guide. After much
good-humoured squabbling among themselves, and
no little equally good-humoured rating on the part
1
OPORTO WINTER
113
of their employer at the delay occasioned by all this
jabber and nonsense, each helped the other to raise
the load to her head, a ticket was given to each
which was to be shown to the officer at the city gate,
and off the party went to make way for another ;
and the same scene was acted again and again till
the house was cleared of every vestige of furniture.
We stayed to see the fun out, and then mounted our
horses and rode up to the city, and were lucky enough
to escape a wetting—for a wetting in Portugal is a
wetting not merely to the skin, but through it, as it
seemed to me the once or twice I was caught in a
shower-literally, in less than three minutes, I was
just as wet as if I had been soused in the Douro.
In a few days our bright skies returned and con-
tinued for weeks; the air out of the sun was colder
than I had expected to find it in Portugal, and I often
wondered how the camellias in our garden braved the
keen clear air-trees, large as common sized Portugal
laurels, covered with flowers of every shade from the
purest white to the richest crimson. The orange
groves, at this season laden with golden fruit, are
truly gorgeous. The fields are as- green as English
fields in spring ; lambs are sporting on the grass as
they sport with us in April and May; primroses and
violets spangle the steep banks of the more retired
lanes. In the ever-green pine-woods herds of goats
and flocks of sheep are grazing, tended by their
picturesque and youthful goatherds and shepherdesses,
frolicsome as the kids and lambs themselves. The sun
too is so powerful that, with all those vernal seemings,
had it not been for certain leafless trees in the gardens
and hedgerows, and the keen air out of the sun, I
114
RIDES ABOUT OPORTO
should have quite forgotten it was winter, as we pur-
sued our daily rides exploring, for three or four hours,
every passable and many almost impassable roads for
ten miles round Oporto. Among the passable roads
the most beautiful perhaps is the one to Vallongo. I
use the epithet beautiful as applied to the country
through which the road is taken, and it is equally
applicable to the road itself, which is as well con-
ducted across that mountain pass, as well made,
the surface in as good order, as any seven miles of
that famous road through North Wales before the
days of railways. There is much traffic on this road,
for the village of Vallongo supplies Oporto with the
greater part of its wheaten bread. It is brought in
three times a week, and if you travel that way, on
these days you will find almost one continuous
string of mules or asses from village to city: the
bread is in large panniers, swung across the backs of
the animals; each bakeress sits enthroned upon the
pannier of the leading mule or donkey of her file, and
she guides, him by the whip more than by the bridle.
It grieved me to observe that very many of these
women and girls were suffering from weak and in-
flamed eyes and eyelids; and this is too easily ac-
counted for when you hear that these forneiras are
up at one o'clock to make and bake the bread, which
they leave at the doors of their several customers in
Oporto at eight o'clock, in time for breakfast (what
is not disposed of in this way is taken and sold at
the stalls in the bread market, a small square appro-
priated to this purpose). Well, then, may the eyes
of these industrious creatures suffer, coming as they
do through summer and through winter direct from
VALLONGO--ST. COSME
115
their hot ovens to encounter the always fresh and
often cuttingly cold air on the high ridges that rise
between Vallongo and the city. The return mules
carry flour for the bread they bring. · Why, then,'
you will probably ask, as I did, “is the bread made at
Vallongo ?' Because the transfer of bread and flour
costs less than that of wood, which is very plentiful
in the neighbourhood of this village.
Taking the new road to Vallongo, and returning
over the hills by St. Cosme, and so back to Oporto, a
ride of full twenty miles, shows you as much of rich
and wild and beautifully varied scenery as, I should
think, could anywhere be found within the same
space. We ascended and descended three several
ranges of hills crossing the narrow valleys that lay
cradled between these ranges. A dashing brook or a
dancing rivulet made its way down from the bare
hill-tops through the pine-woods and forests of cork-
trees and ilexes into each of these snug little fertile
vales, there to inlay the green fields and serve as a
looking-glass for the stately cypress-tree or golden
orange grove. The hill of St. Cosme, with its chapel
and crosses, is a very striking object--a landmark to
the landsman, and to the wave-worn mariner a well-
known beacon: the view from the chapel-yard is one
The road from St. Cosme to the city is perhaps the
best of the old-fashioned paved roads, but bad is the
best; and it is not a pleasant road, on account of the
number of coal carts you fall in with, and they move
along so slowly you have no chance of escaping both
I
2
116
CAMPANHÃ
S
in a string !-each cart striving to out-creak and out-
squeak its neighbour. To one who has not heard
a cart-wheel chorus in Portugal, to describe it would
be talking to the deaf.
I have spoken of banks spangled with primroses
in December. I cannot refrain from describing one
particular bank and one particular bunch which we
fell in with, in one of our by-way rides. We were
fording the stream that runs through the valley of
Campanhã. A blind man was feeling his way with
a long stick over a simple stone bridge, hardly a
bridge, for it was only a succession of long and very
narrow slabs supported by upright stones, with no
fence whatever. Under this bridge, growing on the
river's brim, we spied a bunch of primroses reflecting
itself in the grassy pool below, which was not ruffled
by two tiny waterfalls that leaped down the bank
from the field above, and between which falls the
primrose grew. This was a pretty foreground to a
middle distance of green meadows with rising ground
beyond, on the most elevated point of which stood
the fine old church, neighboured by a large and
handsome building formerly a convent, round which
the village gathered, its lowly roofs peeping out from
among the orange-trees that sheltered them from sun
and storm. The village was backed by pine-woods
stretching away to the blue hills that rose range
above range in the far distance.
We had crossed from the Vallongo road and
skirted a portion of those pine-woods, and how
grand the sea-like music made by the wind among
the branches ! We were perfectly sheltered from
the wind, and being so must have complained of hot
OUR LORD OF THE ROCK
117
sun only, could we possibly have complained of
anything amid so much beauty.
One of our frequent rides was down the Bond
Street of Oporto, the Rua das Flores, through the
fish and vegetable markets on the quay, where, by
the way, is still to be seen that curious specimen of
historical painting meant to represent the merciless
doings of the French on Soult's entry into Oporto,
in March, 1829, when they cut down or hurried
into the river some scores of the unarmed fugitive
populace who were endeavouring to escape over the
old bridge of boats. Here we crossed the suspension
bridge to Villa Nova, ascended the heights where
stands the Serra Convent, and roamed far way into
the country beyond. After getting fairly clear of
Villa Nova, the first village we came to was dis-
tinguished by the high title of 'New-Town Paradise,'
Villa Nova de Paraiso. The next village was
Esprito Santo. Hence we struck off to the right,
pursuing our way down to the coast till we found
ourselves in front of the lonely chapel of O Senhor
da Pedra, The Lord of the Rock,' on the wild
seashore where this chapel braves the waves of
every tide that flows and ebbs. Hither the families
of fishermen and seamen resort to pray for the safety
of those friends who are exposed to the dangers of
the seas?; as the seamen and fishermen also do to
return thanks for their preservation, or to implore
a blessing on their intended voyage. Hence along
the sands for two or three miles, then up to
Magdalena, a tree-embowered village, which is chiefly
inhabited by potters : happy moulders in clay! for
they do not congregate in one enormous factory,
A WRECK
working under one enormous capitalist ; but each
man's home is his factory, and his garden his drying-
ground; and you see him sitting before his cottage
door, assisted by his wife and cheered by the sight
of his little ones playing about him, while he is
moulding, just as they were moulded in the days of
Rachel, the graceful jars and pitchers that are used
to convey the water from the well.
Another charming ride we made out for ourselves,
by keeping among thick woods that still clothe the
summit of the left bank of the Douro, and coming
· out upon the Cabadello sands opposite Foz. One
day we went thither to look at two vessels that had
been wrecked the previous afternoon in attempting
to cross the bar. We found this large plain of sand
covered with people as if it were a fair. One of the
luckless vessels (luckless, for twelve ships came in
by the same tide all safe, and these two were follow-
ing close upon them) was visible from keel to mast-
head, standing upright and looking uninjured in the
middle of the channel, where she had struck on a
rock which is left dry at low water. But of the
other vessel not a trace could I discover, and hardly
could I be persuaded that one curved piece of wood,
more than half-bedded in the sand, was all that
remained of her on the spot where she was stranded.
“Yes,' said the Portuguese tide-waiter who pointed
this out to us, observing, perhaps, my incredulity,
the sea is a grand workman; he can undo in one
hour more than all the shipwrights in Portugal can
put together in a month.' And true enough; the
vessel had been knocked to pieces in that short time;
the sands were strewn with her timbers, ropes, sails,
OLIVEIRA CONVENT
119
and cargo. Already many of the sails were con-
verted into coverings for tents, under which were
collected portions of the wreck. Some of the people
were guarding those tents, others raking up more.
wreck to bring to them; others loading oxen-cars
with goods so much injured as to be of no use except
to burn and spread as ashes upon the fields; others
taking away what was least injured to the boats for
conveyance to the city. It was one of the most
melancholy busy scenes I ever witnessed.
One more ride on the Villa Nova side of the
river, and I have done. Up the stream to Oliveira,
now a Quinta, once a convent. Honour to the
philosophers of the cowl !-with what fine taste did
the monks invariably select the loveliest spots wherein
to set up their rest! In river scenery nothing can
exceed the charm of this situation, whether you look
up to it from the river, or look down from it to
the river, which here makes a considerable bend;
the banks are high and steep, and covered with
wood; a lateral valley empties the bright, clear waters
of its rocky stream into the Douro just at the centre
of this bend, and half-way up the bank which over-
hangs the Douro stands the convent. The site
commands extensive views both up and down the
water; and within a few minutes' walk from the
door, along a pathway shaded by forest trees and
conducted over and round some rocky knolls, you
come to a point whence you look down into the
lateral valley, with its wood-fringed, murmuring
stream winding away through soft green fields;
patches of wheat, and maize, and rye; cottages half
lost among orange groves and ramadas of vine, or
120
AVINTES
creeping up the hill that closes in this sequestered
vale on the opposite side to Oliveira, and on the
top of which hill stands the church, guarding the
village of Avintes that nestles round it, embowered
in wood, with here and there a pine-tree, breaking
with its dark table-top the broken outline of this
rocky, wooded range of hills.
Byron has his Albanian beauty among the workers
upon the road, Rogers his statue-like nymph at the
well near Mola di Gaëta, Wordsworth his Highland
girl, and his Italian girl too; but of all the radiant
beauties I ever beheld, the most lovely was an
aguadeira, a lassie at the fountain in the village of
Oliveira. She was about fourteen. Our poets must
have awarded the palm of beauty to her, had they
been present, when, in compliance with a signal
from us, and encouraged by some matronly lavan-
deiras, who were busy with their linen at the well-
pool, she put down her pitcher from her head and
joined a troop of youthful companions that were
running after us, roguishly begging alms. I will
not attempt to describe the indescribable : 'to see
her was to love her.'
In the village of Avintes is made most of the
broa that is consumed in Oporto and its neighbour-
hood. Here, too, the female bakers are their own.
carriers, but their bread is taken by water; and one
of the most cheerful sounds on the river is the chorus
of voices that comes from these girls as they merrily
row along, twelve or fourteen, perhaps, in one boat.
As villages in Portugal are often occupied by
people of one trade, so in her larger towns some of
the streets are exclusively possessed by particular
OPORTO
121
classes of artisans.' In Oporto there are the shoe-
makers' street, and the braziers' street, and the car-
penters' street, and the cabinet-makers' street, and
the coopers' street. To these last is allotted a street
most inconvenient in some respects, though near the
river, as it ought to be the very old, and very narrow,
and very picturesque, Rua dos Banhos, so narrow
you might almost shake hands across from an upper
story. Yet in this street, before the open doorways
of their dark open workshops, the coopers light their
fires, and on these fires they place, when necessary,
the casks they are in progress with a pleasant
variety for my young, spirited Andalusian barb,
when all of a sudden a blaze of fire issued from the
top of a great cask, that had concealed from him the
kindling shavings which might have in some degree
prepared the animal for this outburst of flame.
Oporto is a most interesting and entertaining
town for an English stranger to explore, and I believe
we poked into every square, large and small, every
street, every lane, where a horse could go ; and cer-
tainly we carried into these places even more wonder
and amusement than we brought out. To see a lady
on horseback, riding in English fashion, and in
English riding costume, in itself creates what the
French call sensation; but to see her in such out-
of-the-way corners, the wonder was tenfold, and
comical were the remarks we used to overhear, both
in the town and country. I was once requested to
spare a piece of my “vestido,' to make a coat of;
another time, I was politely told I was dressed in
man's attire; another time a little urchin ran after
me, crying out, “Que diabo' of a long gown ! and so
122
OPORTO-CHURCHES
on. Almost every child you see, and this is most
common in Villa Nova, repeats as you pass, ' I say, I
say.' Do not fear; I am not going to enter upon a
lame description of every strange thing and every
strange place I saw in Oporto. I will only for one
moment allude to its gardens, which make it so fair
and so agreeable a city to dwell in; and to the steep
and rocky ground on which it stands, and by which
it is surrounded. When leaving the town by the
Rua Santa Catherina, I was always reminded of
Edinburgh. From one elevated point of ground you
looked upon the city at your feet; the sea beyond,
the mountains behind you. Proceed but a few steps,
and you found yourself amid a waste of grand rock
and wild moor, with not a trace of man.
I ought, perhaps, to say a word of one or two of
the churches and convents, and of the public library,
though I do not forget that many a tourist and
artist has been here before me. There are many fine
old churches in Oporto, but none that can boast of a
tower like that of the Clerigos, which is a land-mark
and a sea-mark for leagues. The church of St. Bento
is very fine; the high reliefs in wood, which cover
the walls of the organ gallery, most curious, and
well worthy of attention. The Portuguese are surely
unrivalled as carvers in wood and as hewers in stone,
especially in the latter art : they work very slowly;
but the work, when done, is first-rate. The church
of Francisco is magnificent, and its wood-sculptures
(talhas) are admirable.
The Cathedral, with all its discrepancies of styles,
is of a stately, though rather plain and heavy ex-
terior. It has two lateral towers. Within, it is very
BISHOP'S PALACE
123
handsome, though not gorgeous; but so dirty and
neglected as to make one melancholy. The carved
wood-work of the chief altar here, again, is remark-
ably fine. This rococo is not classical : but even
fastidious judges of art have assented to its beauty.
There is also a silver altar, of the year 1713, much
celebrated for its elegance. The sacristy boasts of
a painting of the Virgin and Child, to which high
excellence is more than questionably imputed. Large
sums, it is said, have been offered for it. The report
of such offers for objects of little value too often
reminds one of an ungracious proverb, which does
not apply to Solomon, who was wise as well as rich.
Some native authors carry back the date of the
foundation of this church so far as the seventh cen-
tury; perhaps confounding the time of its erection
with the date of the See, for Oporto was a bishopric
before the close of that century. Other writers
assert, less improbably, that it was originally con-
structed by Theresa, the Countess of Portugal, after
the decease of Count Henry.
The granite staircase of the bishop's Palace is
handsome; painted walls and ceiling, the latter
finished by a cupola, round which were pictured
birds of paradise on the wing. Private chapel of the
palace pretty, but not sumptuous, and the paintings
very so-so. The apartments spacious, but simple in
their . fitting up.' Views from these living rooms,
and particularly from the parapets of the palace,
very extensive and fine, down the river to the sea,
and up to the mountains of Arouca. A pleasing
youth, in his priestly dress, black silk reaching to the
ground, conducted us through the palace.
124
NUNNERY COURTYARD
The Lapa church, a modern building, of homely
aspect, is handsome within. Here rests, in a silver
urn, behind the high altar, the heart of Don Pedro,
which he bequeathed to his faithful city of Oporto,'
and on the anniversary of his death the church is
richly hung with black velvet and silver, and the
mass for the dead is performed. The urn is on this
occasion exposed on the high altar, which is guarded
on each side by an officer in full uniform; the body
of the church crowded with military.
Behind the church there is a large cemetery
which, when a few more years have rolled away,
will remind you of the cemetery of Montmartre.
There is another small and pretty cemetery attached
to the Cedofeita church, a church well worth visit-
ing; it is the oldest church in Oporto, and one of the
most ancient in the realm. Till those and other
cemeteries were recently established, everyone was
buried in the churches—a dreadful old custom, not
yet obsolete even with us.
When we went to visit the convent of St. Anna,
we rode into the courtyard ; the clatter of our horses
brought some of the Freiras and young pensioners to
the grated window. The English lady on horseback,
or rather, perhaps, her hat and long riding habit,
seemed to attract much attention, till our two
Newfoundland dogs quite cut' her out,' and
absorbed their admiration. In the centre of the
secluded courtyard was a pretty marble fountain
with a large circular basin shining full to the brim
with limpid water. No sooner was it perceived by
the dogs than up they sprang, splash into the basin,
and swam round and round it as if it had been made
DON PEDRO'S HAT
125
for them. Every now and then they dived to the
bottom, and brought out stones, which they duly
deposited in the court, then sprang back again, and
were not tired till they had not left a pebble in the
fountain. The roars of laughter and cries of admira-
tion from the ladies behind the gratings showed that
they were as much surprised and diverted by these
canine proceedings as if the dogs had been conjurers.
While waiting the permission to see the chapel, we
exchanged a few words of civility with one of the
elder nuns through the iron grate that separates the
chapel at the west end from the rest of the convent.
The city library and museum, heretofore a con-
vent, form one side of the handsome square of St.
Lazarus, the centre of which is occupied by a public
garden, small, but very rich in rare and beautiful
flowers and shrubs. The museum contains many
pictures, but no good ones, which is fortunate ; for the
gallery is on the ground floor, and so cold and damp
that any picture must soon be destroyed. One in-
teresting relic was shown to us, the sword of Affonso
Henriques, no longer a “trenchant blade’; but its
very rust rebukes the doubters, who must have a
proof for everything. What a pity they cannot
evoke from Mahomet's paradise some one of the
scores of Moslems whom it slaughtered, or the
Cardinal Legate whom it terrified! I could not get
up any enthusiasm for Don Pedro's black cocked
hat and white plume; nor for his pocket telescope,
though it was presented by his graceful widow the
Duchess of Braganza. These things are preserved
under a glass case, on a richly carved stand, placed
in the middle of the Gallery. The library is upstairs,
126
THE FOUNTAIN OF MERCY'
a magnificent apartment, occupying two sides of the
square of the convent, the old gallery and the cells
on both sides having been thrown together to form
this one room.
One picture worthy of record, and only one, by a
Portuguese hand, have I seen in this city, 'The Foun-
tain of Mercy,' in the sacristy of the Misericordia
Church, Rua das Flores.
Our Saviour is represented dead on the cross,
which rises from the centre of the stone basin of a
fountain: St. John stands on the brim of the basin
to the right, the Virgin to the left ; spectators, all
portraits from life, form a circle round the fountain.
King Emanuel, “ the great and the fortunate,' and
his sons, his second wife and two daughters, are in
front of the picture. The Archbishop of Lisbon and
other ecclesiastical dignitaries stand behind the
king: next to them the civil dignitaries; behind the
Queen and the two princesses, Donna Beatrice and
Donna Isabella, are the ex-Queen Leonor, widow of
John II., and several other female figures. This
group, uniting with that of the civil officers, com-
pletes the circle.
The expression of the Virgin Mother and St.
John, wonderful! The utter woe of the former in
touching contrast with that of the beloved disciple-
a sadness subdued and elevated by firm faith in the
God-in-man-Him over whom they mourn. A dig-
nified priest, who showed us this picture, expressed
himself most feelingly upon it. He said he had
been years and years in discovering all its meaning,
and that the charm of the composition was still
unexhausted.
OPERA
127
Much, and perhaps the reader may think far too
much, has been written of our outdoor pleasures
during the winter we spent in Oporto ; and much
might be written of pleasant evenings at the Italian
Opera, which is open three times a week, and whither
we went, like many others, on foot or on donkey-back.
And here lovers of music may really enjoy music;
for the house is neither too light nor too dark, nor
too hot nor too cold for comfort, and you may go
without the fuss of best bib and tucker,' for to
appear in undress, except on gala nights, is the
fashion. On gala nights the crimson curtains before
the Queen's box, which occupies a large space in the
centre of the theatre, are withdrawn, and there a
portrait of her Majesty is to be seen occupying the
place that she herself would occupy were she on a
visit to the city.
The almost death-like stillness of the principal
streets, festa seasons of course excepted, as you pass
through them between 10 and 11 P.M., is very strik-
ing to one fresh from England ; and you ask your-
self involuntarily, where can all that industriously
busy and resolutely idle life be gone to, that a few
hours ago thronged this very place? No knots of
young men collected at the corners of the streets, no
idle boys playing pranks at door and windows. You
may meet or be overtaken by private carriages,
sedan chairs, and gentlemen and ladies on foot
returning from the opera or theatres, or from private
parties, but you see none of the lower orders. The
industrious portion have betaken themselves to their
homes, and the idlers have vanished at the sound of
a bell, which rings every night at nine in summer
128
SOCIETY
and eight in winter from one of the churches, and is
called The Bell of the Vagabonds,' or "Rascals';
and if any unfortunate wretch answering to this
description be found in the streets half an hour after
the bell has ceased, he is taken up by the police, and
a prison is his home for that night at least.
Dinner parties were to be heard of almost daily
among the English, and balls and evening parties, which
both Portuguese and English attended, were very
frequent. The Factory House gave its dinners and its
grand ball: and the usual winter balls, once a month,
I think, were given at the Assemblea Portuense ; but of
none of these will I write, because circumstances
prevented me from availing myself of the privilege
I had, through the kindness of our host and other
friends, of being present on such occasions. One,
and I think only one, private ball in an English
house I attended, and could not but greatly admire
the graceful dancing of some of the young and pretty.
Portuguese ladies. English women are much too
fond of crying down their sisters of Portugal. They
go so far as to say that the mental endowments of
the Portuguese ladies are so little cultivated, that
they can find no better or happier employment for
their precious time than sitting on the esteira (the
mat), which is spread on the floor in the.centre of
the sitting-rooms, to gossip and eat sweetmeats ; or
in standing out on their balconies to stare at such of
the passers-by as they do not know, and to bow to
those whom they do know. This may or may not
be true; but how can the English ladies know it to
be true, when, with the same breath, they go on to
complain of the meanness and inhospitality of the
THE ENGLISH ABROAD
129
Portuguese, who, they say, never invite you to their
houses, though they are willing enough to be invited
to yours, and that they are rarely admitted by their
Portuguese friends even on a morning call? I think
in my account of our trip to the Minho country
enough is told of our reception at the houses of
Portuguese gentlemen to refute the assertion of want
of hospitality in Portugal. The fact is, the English
ever will carry English habits and English prejudices
into foreign countries, and so the English carry
London hours to Oporto, and they dine between six
and seven o'clock. The usual dinner hour among
the Portuguese is three, after that comes the sesta;
and such arrangements are not consistent with
dinner-givings. The sesta over, the ladies prepare
to pay or receive visits. Many families have one
day or more in the week appointed for an 'at home,'
which is known in their circle, and where any one of
the circle may present him or herself and be sure of
a gracious welcome; and this visit answers the end,
too, of our stupid morning calls. This plan of life
of the Portuguese of course does not agree with
English hours. In our houses the dinner is not yet
placed upon the table, and, probably, before that
meal and the after-dinner sitting are over, the
soirée is broken up. The few English gentlemen
whose good sense and right feeling induce them to
give in to Portuguese hours and habits, and to accept
in their own way of their hospitalities, say that there
is no backwardness whatever on the part of the Portu-
guese to associate with the English. The language,
no doubt, is a great obstacle to friendly intercourse.
Few Portuguese ladies speak English ; and Portu-
130
THE PORTUGUESE AT HOME
guese, though an easy language to learn to read, is
a very difficult one to learn to speak English ladies
will not even take the pains' to learn to read it, mak-
ing a comfortable cloak of a high-minded reason in
which to conceal from themselves the true one,
indolence. It is great waste of time to learn to
read a language which has but one book worth read-
ing, Camoens.' A great mistake, by the bye.
jargon, picked up from their Galician servants, which
answers for all the purposes of the daily drudgery of
life, do not feel themselves equal to enter into con-
versation with the Portuguese, and this makes
friendly intercourse impossible, and throws a restraint
over mere acquaintanceship, which, under its best
aspect barren and unprofitable, in Portugal is be-
numbing in its interchange of etiquette ; for these
visits of compliment are truly spirit-freezing. You
go to the portal, which is always open : if the owner
be wealthy, you find two or more servants in attend-
ance in the hall; if he is in moderate circumstances,
you must make your way through the hall to the
door at the foot of the stairs, there clap your hands
or hammer at the door till it flies open, the latch
being pulled from above by a string; clap again till
the servant comes. If you are to be admitted, and
the master of the house or his son be within, he
presently follows his servant, meets you on the stairs,
gives you his arm, and conducts you to the sitting-
room, at one side of which is placed, against the wall,
a cane-backed, cane-seated, coverless, cushionless
sofa. At either side, and at right angles with the
sofa, four or five chairs are planted close together.
VISITS
131
A pretty esteira (straw mat) or a handsome woollen
rug covers this square; the rest of the floor has often
no covering, in summer at least; chairs and tables
are ranged stiffly round the room, one table, perhaps,
in the centre, and few ornaments anywhere. To
this formidable little square the visitors are led, and
placed in the seat of honour—the sofa ; the ladies
are seldom in the room, but soon come down from
their private apartment, and even the lady of the
house would on no account sit by you on the sofa ;
she takes the chair nearest to you, and the other
members of the family occupy the other chairs : and
if more are needed, they are placed opposite the sofa,
closing in the square. Think how utterly impossi-
ble for an English woman, with but a few words of
broken Portuguese on her tongue, to attempt to use
them, knowing they must be overheard by every one
present, and knowing, too, that the Portuguese have
a natural genius for quizzing. For myself, all I
could say was 'Yes' or 'No'; all I could do was to
look like a half-wit; and all I could think of was,
When may we escape from this pinfold of cere-
monious misery?' Feeling certain that the visited
would be as thankful as the visitors when the moment
had arrived for the latter to depart, we made our
calls very brief, following a wise example set us by
the Portuguese ladies when they first called upon us.
The gentleman again offers you his arm downstairs,
and does not leave you until you are seated in your
carriage, or on your steed, ass, or mule.
The Portonians, both male and female, are pas-
sionately fond of music : they have lately set on foot
a Philharmonic Society. On St. Cecilia's Day, to do
1
K 2
132
MUSIC-CHURCH FESTA
honour to the day, this society offered themselves to
assist in the performance of high mass (the music
composed by one of their own members) in any
church the bishop might select for the purpose.
Each member had the privilege to admit the inmates.
of his own family, and, luckily for us, our English
host was a member; so we dressed ourselves, accord-
ing to order, in black dresses, and threw over our
heads very large black lace veils, which were bor-
rowed for us from our next-door neighbour, a Portu-
guese lady; and we stepped into a gay, trim little
postchaise, built in the time of Noah, and were soon
one among the train of carriages on their way to the
church. I will spare you the particulars of this
church festa-day; suffice it to say, we came away
much gratified—not with the music, for that, though
very good for a concert or a private room, was not
fitted for a church, as it too frequently recalled pass-
ages that we had heard at the opera-house—but with
the general effect of the building, which was most
tastefully decorated with evergreens and flowers.
Vases full of flowers were placed on every shrine,
and in every niche; the pillars and crosses were
wreathed with flowers and festoons, chiefly composed
of the blossoms of the camellia, hung from the ceil-
ing; and the lights from the four or five hundred
wax candles, amid the brilliant sunshine that poured
in from the high windows, had not the effect of light,
but of lustrous jewels, especially those that were
burning overhead in the glass candelabra that were
suspended from the lofty and richly ornamented roof.
One passage in the ceremony was very striking, when,
at a sudden burst of triumphal music from the
orchestra in the gallery immediately above the great
CARNIVAL
133
west door; that door, which until then had been kept
closed, flew open, and the bishop, with a numerous
company of white-robed attendants, entered, and
walked up the aisle, with a dignified humility of
manner, dispensing his blessing to the congregation
as he passed along to take his seat within the rails
of the altar. Service then began at twelve o'clock,
and was not over till half-past four; but we came
away immediately after the sermon was ended—not
a very profitable discourse, as far as I could gather,
being a laudation of the saint, rhapsodized with all
the conceit of a dilettante preacher.
I have said nothing of the religious processions
on certain saints' days, nor of the decorating and
lighting up of the churches for the celebration of the
Nativity, nor of the mournful solemnities of Passion
Week, because in all Roman Catholic countries these
ceremonies are, I believe, conducted much in the
same way, and have been described again and again
with great spirit and exactness. The preparation
for the season of Lent is surely strange; amusing,
and very amusing no doubt it is. The masking
spreads from high to low; every little child that
plays in the street has its mask. Troops of masked
horsemen clatter by; and carriages, containing
parties of maskers, are driving up and down the town
throughout the day, and in the evenings you see them
standing at the doors of the houses of the gentry,
waiting for their owners who are paying their respects
to the family within. A party came to our house,
and great fun they made. Some of the group were
soon discovered. They remained several hours, and
we got up an impromptu dance, always a merry
dance. . Among the equestrian maskers in the streets
134
LENT
appeared a figure representing an English lady;
there she sat—and a shocking bad seat was hers-
on a side-saddle, her long petticoat almost sweeping
the pavement, and her black hat looking not much
more at ease upon her head than she on her saddle.
There are sermons or courses of lecturés delivered
both on Sundays and week-days in many of the
churches during Lent, and on these occasions the
churches are crowded to excess. I attended a Sunday
afternoon lecture at the Cedofeita. We went very
early, but not an inch of standing-ground was vacant
in the body of the church, not a seat in the gallery
unappropriated ; and we were coming away in hope-
less disappointment, when the organist, overhearing
by accident our conversation with a young person
belonging to the sacristy, most kindly came forward
and proposed to retire with his half dozen singers
from the organ gallery, when not needed there, to
make way for us, if we would withdraw when his
services were required. The organ was directly
opposite the pulpit, and parallel with it, so that we
were as well situated as it was possible to be, both
for seeing and for hearing. The service commenced
with an anthem, and then the preacher rose : his
delivery was distinct, his style eloquent, and his
manner certainly impressive, though there was too
much theatrical action and too much of sameness in
the action to please me. He was addressing the poor :
the subjects he selected were restitution and repent-
ance, and he handled them in a masterly manner,
while a humble and truly Christian spirit pervaded
the whole of his discourse; and to me, upon whom
it came quite unexpectedly, the effect was stunning,
THE LAST SOLACE
135
when, with tears rolling down his face, he exclaimed,
'Let us not delay; now, now at this very moment, my
children, let us humble ourselves before the Lord, and
implore His forgiving mercy!'-on which the whole
of that large congregation fell upon their knees,
smote their breasts and wept. Another anthem was
performed, and the people dispersed.
One ceremony of the Church of Rome, when it
takes place at night, may impress even a true-hearted
member of the Protestant Church of England with
religious awe, and this is the procession which bears
through the streets the last sacrament to the dying
Christian : a little tinkling bell warns you of its ap-
proach; voices are heard chanting a hymn; you go
to your window ; already the canopy, under which
the priest walks, bearing the host, is passing your
door through a blaze of light which precedes the
holy elements far as the eye can see, while behind
all is in black darkness. It is the custom, on hear-
ing this bell, for everyone to hasten to place lights in
the windows, and to withdraw them as soon as the
procession has passed by; and thus are produced
the startling darkness and light, cheering symbols
for the spirit departing from a world dark with sin
and sorrow, for that other world so bright with love
and peace.
If it were for no higher motive than to give
myself an opportunity to express private feelings of
respect and gratitude to an English chaplain abroad,
for public services faithfully and diligently performed
in trying times, through a series of years, I could
not leave Oporto without naming our own dear
Church, where for so long a time we heretics have
136.
RETURN TO THE FOZ
been permitted to offer up our prayers and join in
the simple rites of our Church, undisturbed by the
jibes or the threats of those who bear rule in the
land. There is nothing attractive in the appearance
of the building, as may be inferred from the con-
ditions under which permission was obtained for its
erection, viz., that it should not look like a church
either within or without, and must not aspire to
tower, belfry, or bell—none of which it possesses-but
the situation partly makes up for these deficiencies ;
and Nature, with her never-failing bounty, has in the
chapel-yard supplied pillars' of lime trees, whose
branches ‘have learned to frame a darksome aisle’;
and soothing it is to repose for a while under the
cool green shade of these aisles, before entering the
little chapel, where you are too often oppressed by
heat and glare:
We left Oporto on March 31, 1846, for the Foz,
where we took up our quarters at a tolerable summer
inn kept by an Irishwoman, in the Rua Direita, and
only open during the winter for the accommodation
of the English steamboat passengers. Here we had
to wait till nine o'clock next evening, when, just as
we were comfortably seated round the tea-table, the
signal-gun was fired, and the servant came in to tell
us that the steamer was waiting off The Huts; and
almost before we could rise from our seats the door
of our upstairs sitting-room was literally besieged
with women and children, each trying to force her-
self into the room and seize the first package she
could lay hands upon to carry off to the boat.
The noise and confusion were something appalling :
we were obliged to call for the landlady's husband
EMBARKATION AT THE HUTS
137
(a Portuguese), and beg him to insist upon these
Carreta girls leaving the room till we had arranged
our luggage ; and no easy matter was it for him,
assisted by two or three of his Gallegos, to clear our
premises of this vociferous, half-joking, half-quarrel-
ling mob of most industrious human beings. They
remained outside the door till we were ready; we
then entreated them to enter one at a time to pre-
vent confusion, but we might just as well have -
entreated the winds and waves, for in they all rushed,
and we ladies were obliged to take refugein the far cor-
ner of the room, to secure ourselves from being run over
by the crowd, or knocked down by the great boxes, as
they were in the act of being lifted upon the heads
of these very pretty creatures, most of them acquaint-
ances of ours, each of whom had some pretty com-
pliment or kindly word of farewell to give as she
left the room. At last every package was disposed
of, and the few girls who got nothing, being thus
assured there was nothing for them, quietly departed.
We soon joined our luggage-bearers in the street,
and all proceeded together on foot to The Huts. The
road thither has been already described, so you may
easily imagine what a singularly wild and pictures-
que group we made, ploughing our way by moonlight
through that deep sand, close to the white waves of
the Atlantic, which were breaking upon or dashing
over the great black rocks-oh, such grand music!-
and then the cheerful voices of the girls as they sang
in chorus, or interchanged the merry jest, or raised
a scream of affected distress when one or other
stumbled against a stone hidden in the sand. Some
of the boatmen came to meet us, and in terms not
138
LISBON
over-courteous urged us to hurry on, or we should be
left behind— The steamer would wait no longer.'
The luggage was all safely disposed of in the
boat, which had been dragged down from The Huts
to the water's edge. We took our seats as best we
could, while the boatmen were now up to their knees
in water, pushing or hauling at the boat, now jump-
ing into it, seizing an oar, and trying to force her off
with that. At last, by dint of pushing and pulling
and screaming and scolding, we were fairly afloat;
the oarsmen in a moment were seated, the pilot at his
post standing at the stern. Another moment brought
us to the point of peril, the end of the pier, where the
waves break violently even in what the sailors call
'good weather,' and where, if the greatest judgment
is not shown on the part of the pilot, and prompt
obedience on the part of the boatmen, the boat must
be swamped. We passed it safely, though not
without feelings of anxiety, sufficient to prepare the
way for those of light-hearted thankfulness when
we found ourselves out of danger's reach, on that
fine stirring sea, making quick way to the steamer-
our old friend the little Queen. She anchored in
the Tagus about midnight on April 2. This was
unlucky, as we missed the entrance into the river.
I was on deck just as the sun's full morning light
was first falling upon the high ground above Belem.
The Tagus at Lisbon is most magnificent, but the
view of the city from the river did rather disappoint
me—a want of towers and spires, such as those of
the Clerigos, and of other churches at Oporto, to
break the outline ; nor are the dwelling-houses so
picturesque, and the banks of the river strike an eye
PENINSULA HOTEL
139
fresh from the Douro as tame and wanting in variety.
We landed by boat at the stairs of the custom-house,
passed under a covered way to the pretty flowery
terrace in front, crossed that to the office merely to
show ourselves, then back to our boat, which took
us down the river as far as · Black Horse Square,'
as the English sailors call the Praça do Commercio,
of which the original name was Terreiro do Paço,
from its being the site of a palace which was de-
stroyed in 1755 by earthquake and fire. We went to
the Hotel da Peninsula, where, after some considera-
tion, the manager agreed to receive us-four persons
and an English man-servant-for about eight shillings
per day each, including attendance : less than the
somewhat high rate laid down in their printed notice.
We had a private sitting-room and five bedrooms;
and here we and all our luggage, which had been
most carefully and carelessly turned over and out at
the custom-house, were housed soon after mid-day.
A magnificent mansion is this Peninsula Hotel ;
the front looking upon that beautiful and entertaining
fountain in the square of the 'Two Churches,' the
back into a pretty garden, gay and rich with sweet
flowers, and commanding views of the river and hills
beyond, caught between the houses and gardens that
run down to the water's edge. The arrangements
of the house are in keeping with its appearance; all
neat and clean as possible, furniture handsome,
cooking first-rate, servants courteous and attentive-
in short, quite an air of English comfort and aristo-
cratic elegance about the place.
Our first walk was to the public garden, whence
we had a fine view of the city, standing, like Rome,
140
PUBLIC GARDEN
as the Portuguese say, on seven hills (I contrived to
count nine). The flowers in this garden are most
luxuriant, especially the geraniums, which form the
hedges, and the heliotrope, which, with other flowers,
clothes the very lofty walls to the top; and the
*Lily of the Nile,' literally groves of this fair and
elegant flower, but the stem of the flower does not
shoot up in the way you see it within doors in Eng-
land; it is scarcely half the height, and the plant,
though so much more prodigal of blossom here than
in England, is not quite so elegant, the effect being
somewhat bunchy. From this garden we pursued
our way down a street steeper than the roof of an
Pedro, or, as it was formerly called, do Rocio, at the
head of which stands the new 'National Theatre';
a very handsome building but for the ugly, heavy
roof, which, we were told, was to be altered. Passed
some time looking up at that little spiral pillar, so full
of dreadful history. It is a very ancient column, of
a single piece of fine marble, exquisitely chiselled.
April 4.
Lovely morning. Down to the “Caes do Sodré,'
and off by boat for Belem soon after nine o'clock. To
the church, too beautiful and too sumptuous in its
beauty for me to describe. Those who have seen the
Chapter House at Wells have seen something resem-
bling the upper part of this magnificent edifice. At
the west end the roof is low and groined, and as you
enter there is a mysterious and imposing gloom pro-
duced by this, which adds to your feelings of wonder
BELEM
141
and admiration, when a few steps bring you under
the lofty roof, springing out of those noble and ele-
gantly wrought pillars. The two nearest to the high
altar are more richly worked than the others, and
reminded me in their workmanship of the lovely
flower-wreathed pillars in Roslin Chapel. Two rich
altars opposite each other at the upper end give the
building a cruciform shape. An organ, or rather
organs—for there are two of them—are placed in the
gallery at the west end of the church, above the low-
groined roof. The west door, the main entrance,
magnificent in its stone carvings, but, alas ! like
all things in Portugal, the building is unfinished be-
yond the roof, and instead of two fine towers there
is one miserable pigeon-cote-like turret, where hang
two or three tinkling bells. The convent, which
joins upon the church, and which must have been
beautiful, is spoiled by whitewash and vulgar sash-
windows; the cloisters have escaped all retouching,
and are fitting neighbours of that gorgeous Gothic
church. This convent is converted into an asylum
for poor girls. We walked on to the Torre de Belem.
This tower is truly elegant in its proportions, and
rich in Gothic stone-work decorations. It is used, I
believe, as a register office of health for ships enter-
ing the river. The perfume of the orange flower,
which came to us as we were hobbling along the ill-
paved street to the · Torre,' was delicious; the hedge
of aloes to the right not to be forgotten, for it was
the first I ever saw. Royal carriages were waiting
at the door of the church, guards on duty within and
without: Queen coming to mass. Unluckily we had
not half an hour to throw away in waiting for a sight
142
PALACES
of her Majesty, and her gaudy, tawdry turn-out; for
such the cortège must have been, if we might judge
by the two carriages and half-dozen liveried servants
that were in advance. But I am told that on state
occasions her court can appear truly magnificent.
On our way down the river we passed two of her
palaces, Paço das Necessidades and the Paço da Bem-
posta, and saw a third on the hill, that of the Ajuda,'
a very fine building of white stone, so white as to
look like marble, but unfinished. Passed, too, the
cordoaria, or rope walk, where is a naval school.
The building looks as of red brick, faced with stone,
very large and handsome, and apparently in perfect
repair; it stands close upon the river. The 'Neces-
sidades' is, or looks—for I was not near enough to
ascertain of red, or rather pink brick, faced with
stone. The 'Bemposto 'is a whitewashed building,
also faced with stone, handsome, though small. Its
foreground is a pretty garden, which, unluckily, is
separated from the river by a public road. This
palace was built by Donna Catherine of Portugal, the
Queen of our Charles II. Many handsome, and
picturesque, and grotesque-looking houses, belonging
to the old and new Nobreza, were noticed by us, and
all called forth the same remark, 'What a pity that
the garden does not run down to the water's edge,
as would be the case in England.' But English
feeling prompted this remark. The Portuguese have
different ideas on the charm of a garden, which to
them is incomplete unless it affords a view of a busy
street or public road, as the chief recreation of the
ladies of a family is to sit at the janella of their
quintal. Their maligners, as I have before observed,
ALMADA
143
pretend that it is not only their recreation, but the
sole business of their daily life.
Took a boat again from Belem, and were rowed
over to Almada, on the opposite side of the river.
Here parted with our boatmen, who received con-
tentedly the sum for which they had agreed to bring
us so far, and so we gave them a trifle more, 'para
beber' (to drink) ; walked up the steep paved road,
which commands fine views down and across the
river to the little town, where the streets are filthy,
just what Mr. Southey describes those of Lisbon to
have been half a century ago. I begged to be taken
into a poor but clean-looking venda, and here we were
served by a handsome youth, of manners superior to
his station, who brought us cool water, drew us wine
from the cask, put before us oranges, more by far
than we required-oranges with fresh green leaves
attached-brought us knives and plates, and then,
like a true gentleman--for there are gentlemen of
Nature's fashioning-left us to eat our luncheon
undisturbed by his presence, left us in his shop, his
counter our table, on which were piled up oranges at
one end, and divers bottles, &c., at the other ; stand-
ing behind the counter were several large wine-casks,
and a few smaller ranged on shelves above. The
room contained little more of furniture, nothing, I
think, except one small wooden bench, that the
master pulled out from the, wall for us to sit down
upon ; the walls were unplastered, the roof unçeiled,
the floor bare earth ; the house presented a contrast
to its owner, which you would never meet with in
England.
At first the oranges were not included in his bill,'
144
ALMADA
and when we insisted on paying for them, the total
of the whole' was about threepence English. He
came out into the street to show us our way to the
castle, and then courteously took leave.
Went into the chapel of Santiago, close to the
castle wall. Groined roof (black and white) of the
altar very noticeable. The ceiling of the body of
the chapel painted in panels.
An old soldier at the castle gate admitted us, and
conducted us all over the place. Castle, I know not
why, it is called, for it is merely a mud fortification
faced with stone. Our guide was not satisfied with
pointing out to us the views from the topmost wall,
but in some parts made us walk round at three
different heights.
The Tagus from Lisbon to Aldea Gallega is
twelve miles in breadth, and for more than as many
miles above the city it looks rather like a sea-born
frith than a runaway from a far-inland Spanish
mountain, whence it has travelled about 400 tortuous
miles, all the way from the wilds of Albarracin.
The views from the castle of Almada are in every
direction fine : up the river towards Alhandra, right
across it where the whole of Lisbon is spread before
you, and down the tide to Belem, beyond and behind
which rise the rocky, jagged heights of Cintra. We
could see the white houses glittering in the sunshine.
To the south is the rich valley of Piedade, whence
Sartorius takes his title of Visconde, and where is
his convent home-strange title, strange home, and
strange history for an English blue-jacket! And
the gallant Admiral Viscount Piety has another
conventual estate at Cintra. Both were purchased
ALMADA
145
with the funds received from the Portuguese Govern-
ment for his services to Don Pedro, the subverter
of monastic institutions...
We took leave of our soldier guide, giving him
for his trouble a small gratuity, with which he was
more than content. We descended the hill, on the
side opposite to the one by which we had ascended
to the pier of Casilhas, passing under garden walls,
over and down which hung branches and festoons of
sweet-smelling and richly-coloured flowers of various
kinds, and through streets not particularly clean, but
not so dirty as those of Almada. Before we reached
the pier we had a mob of boatmen about us, each
underbidding the other for our passage across the
river. The noise they made was so great they could
not hear Mr. — 's assurance that donkeys not boats
were needed by us. At last, when this was under-
stood, the turmoil only became the greater, and I
really thought Mr. — was about to be demolished
between boatmen and donkeymen, when, to my
astonishment, he cried out to me,'Come , mount
this grey.' I was immediately assisted by the
nearest person, and I wondered by what magic the
storm had been appeased. R- mounted another;
Mr. - mounted a third. We forced our way
through the crowd, followed by our tall, slim, dark-
eyed guide, with his scarlet cap falling over the right
shoulder, up the village, then to the left to the valley
of · Piedade.' Matters had been arranged thus.
*Don't talk, but listen to me. I want three donkeys
to take us to the convent of Piedade, and will give
six vintens each for going and returning, guide and
Miss Rotha Quillinan.
146
VAL DE PIEDADE
donkeys waiting for us there as long as may be
necessary.' At once the proposal was accepted by
the person nearest to him ; the other donkey-owners
held their peace, and we were on our road. Nothing
particularly striking in the appearance of the valley,
which is surrounded by low swelling hills, some of
them covered with pine-trees, but in general there is
a great want of wood, both on the north and south
sides of the Tagus. We passed through a hamlet
that reminded me of an English, or rather of an
Irish village, with its green, and its houses fringing
the green—a lazy, muddy stream stealing through
it. A very old and curious bridge of three arches
-small, low, and circular-evidently Roman, leads
over the stream to a comfortless looking inn, such as
were wont to be seen on Stanmore, with ‘Good enter-
tainment for man and horse' painted in huge black
letters on the whitewashed walls: here was similarly
painted Casa de Pasto.' We passed several hedges
of aloes and cactus; palm-trees here and there, and
beautiful flowers everywhere. -Twenty minutes' ride
brought us to the convent gate, which is of hewn
stone, and handsome, and surmounted by a pretty
simple cross. Much of the convent has been pulled
down, and the portion left is not handsome-a flight
of stone steps outside, the only break to the long
straight line of front. An English servant led us
through the garden, where was one pretty picture, a
small mill, something like one of our threshing mills,
shaded by a group of palm-trees. We then ascended
the stone stairs, entered a large, low room, where
stands a billiard-table, and where hang portraits of
saints and monks, and many curious relics of bygone
LISBON
times. We turned to our right through an ante-
room, where hung more monks and saints, and at
the end of which is another low, long apartment, the
drawing-room, with windows on three sides—such a
pretty room! a mingling of English comfort with
Portuguese coolness and Oriental richness of colour-
ing and splendour. The admiral's hobby-the oil-
press-was shown to us, as were also the wine-press
and the cellars, which are the most remarkable parts
of the building. We hurried back to Casilhas to
catch the three o'clock steamer, but luckily were just
too late-luckily, because some of the noisy boatmen,
of whom I have already spoken, offered to take us
over for eight vintens, and so they did most pleasantly,
in their pretty clean boat, with its Moorish sail, and
landed us at the Caes do Sodré. We passed close by
three men-of-war, the Vasco da Gama, quite new,
Ferdinando, and Don João.
All that we paid for the grand and beautiful
sights of to-day, including boats and boatmen,
donkeys and guides, and wine and oranges, was 5s.6d.
We had no trouble with any of the men ; they named
at once the sum for which they had engaged to take
us, were contented with it, and well pleased with the
few pence given over and above.
During our stay in Lisbon we visited most of the
churches; among these the two in our own square
and that of St. Roque, which was not far from us,
again and again. In one thing we were unlucky,
the pictures were all covered-it being Passion week.
The curtain before the chapel of St. John the
Baptist in this church is only withdrawn on certain
grand days. It is a most beautiful chapel. The
: L 2
148
CHURCH OF S. ROQUE
pictures in mosaic are like first-rate paintings--the
Baptism of Our Saviour,' the ‘Annunciation,' and
the ‘Pentecost.' I think I prefer the Annunciation
to the more celebrated one of the Baptism; the
expression of the Virgin is divine; and in the third
picture, the Pentecost, our Saviour's face is truly
spiritual. This chapel is indeed a gem, and a gem
of great price it would be without the pictures,
which are gems in the gem : for, in addition to these
beautiful pictures and exquisite mosaic work of altar
and floor, and pillars of jasper, it is very rich in
precious stones-real, I suppose they are, as we were
told so; though, if so, it is marvellous how they
have escaped the French war of plunder and the
civil wars of necessitous soi-disant patriotism. In
undoubted relics, yet more precious to superstitious
reverence, this chapel is also rich. I never heard
that Marshal Junot or any other Frenchman of the
Empire had any fancy for appropriating this sort of
treasure. The mosaics were preserved by virtue of
a protest on their behalf, which was happily re-
spected, for mosaic pictures were not convenient
things to carry, and might have been harder to put
together again than a child's puzzle by the time
they got to Paris. Pope Benedict XIV., surnamed
the wise and pious, said the first mass in this chapel.
It was built in Rome by command of John V., and
given to the Jesuits. It is said to have cost him
300,0001. On our way to the cathedral we stopped
before the admirable entrance of the Conceição, one
of the oldest churches in Lisbon, built by King
Emanuel, and much resembling his glorious work at
Belem, though on a less magnificent scale. We
CATHEDRAL-TOMB OF KINGS
149
went into the church, but found within nothing
remarkable.
Cathedral very fine, pillars and floor of marble,
rich altars, rich even in Passion week, when all
of ornament that can be concealed is concealed.
Five silver lamps suspended from the roof before
the high altar, at once costly and elegant.
The church of San Vicente de Fora (which forms
a part of the convent of the same name, the residence
of the Cardinal Patriarch) is superb. Magnificent
altar of mosaic at the end of the southern cross
aisle. The transept dome on vaulting shafts is very
beautiful. We were taken all over this old convent
and church, up to the top of the church towers,
round the roof, whence you have glorious views of
the city, river and country beyond, and through the
public apartments of the ‘Patriarch,' who is a
Cardinal in right of his office. He is President of
the House of Peers. For a person so dignified, the
apartments reserved for his own use in this exten-.
sive and once splendid building strike you as yery
humble. The rooms are low and small; there are
some interesting pictures and some very old and
admirable tapestry hangings, and rather well-painted
ceilings. The council room is at the top of the
building, and is rich in tapestry and in the
portraits of former patriarchs. After showing us
all this, our guide led us down into 'The Tomb of
Kings,' where we saw the coffins of John IV., by
whose seizure of the throne the national independ-
ence was restored ; his second son, Pedro II., the
filcher of his elder brother's rights; King Joseph,
great in his minister Pombal; John VI., who was not
150
.
S. VICENTE DE FORA
great, and many other personages great and small.
Don Pedro, too, lies here, and his son-in-law, the
first husband of the Queen.
The widow of Don Pedro hears mass in this
vault on the anniversary of her husband's death,
when she always brings some little offering to place on
his coffin; the last was a circlet. formed of the flowers
of the yellow everlasting, and made by herself. On
our taking leave of our obliging and intelligent guide,
a young man between eighteen and twenty, he was
offered money as a matter of course ; he shrank from
the offer. Still he declined it in such a pleasing
manner, that you felt he was amused and not
offended by the mistake. I should like to know
what office he filled in the palace; his dress was that
of a rather subordinate attendant. The smart livery
servant in his cocked hat and long blue stockings
was right pleased with the six vintens we gave him for
asking permission for us to see the convent, and for
bringing to us this young gentleman guide ; and the
old butler-sort-of-a-man, who led us through the
rooms of the patriarch, as willingly accepted his
twelve vintens as any of our Church vergers would
take a fee.
The guide-books tell us there are some good
pictures in the church, but all were covered. The
sacristy! how could I forget that, with its walls
from roof to floor of the most beautiful mosaic
work in marble? We were gravely shown by our
young guide the room in which the two miraculous
crows were formerly kept, and we were told that one of
the race still lived, and was now in the cathedral.
But what, perhaps, impressed me most of all that
T
FIELDING'S GRAVE
151
I saw in Lisbon was that field of cypress and tombs,
the English burial-ground, where the gayest and
brightest flowers are growing luxuriantly among the
graves, and gracefully wreathing some few of the tall
dark cypress spires from their base to the very top.
The solemn gloom of these avenues of cypress is very
imposing, and here you are completely shut in among
the dead. The eye cannot wander beyond the cypress
fence, within which lie the remains of Fielding and
Doddridge (this life and the next), and some other
names familiar to our ears. The exact spot where
Fielding was buried in this inclosure is not known.
His monument, a huge ungainly thing, is on a spot
selected by guess. The bones it covers may possibly
have belonged to an idiot. On quitting this lower
part of the consecrated spot, we ascended the slope
which leads to the principal entrance, and here is a really
splendid view of the city; the Tagus and the country
beyond opens upon you, and you find yourself among
orange-trees, and lemon-trees, and other sweet and
cheerful-flowering shrubs-a contrast great and not
unwelcome to the melancholy seclusion of the cypress
gloom you have left behind you.
We drove on to the aqueduct, and not being able
to get upon it, as the gates are now kept strictly
locked in consequence of the horrid robberies and
murders that were committed there, we at once made
our way down into the valley, over which it carries
'its silver thread of waters,' and in descending the
hill I was taught a lesson of trust and be safe.' Our
postillion told us that the road was bad and the carriage
could not go further than the top of the hill; the
distance to the foot was greater than the strength of
152
AQUEDUCT
one of our party was well equal to, and fancying the
man wished us to walk merely to save his mules,
which were strong, in good condition, and had not
come far, I said, 'But cannot you take us a little
nearer?' He shrugged his shoulders, opened the
door, and we got in: but hardly had we proceeded
one hundred yards, when, turning a corner, the road
became exceedingly steep, and, being paved with
small round stones, was very slippery, and down went
one mule ; hardly had it recovered its footing when
down went the other, upon which the man was riding.
The poor fellow was nearly off ; he, however, con-
trived to keep his seat, and the mule to recover her
footing, and our servant, who in the meantime had
jumped from the box, wedged a stone under one of
the wheels, and so stopped the carriage. We lost,
little time in getting out, and the man lost less in
getting off, shaking like an aspen-leaf, pale as a ghost,
and saying, “Now, Senhora, was I not right in telling
you the carriage could not go further ?
I felt this mild reproof, and answered, 'Yes, quite
right, and I am rightly served for not trusting to
your warning. Thankfully did we hasten on foot
down the hill, and stood under one of the three
highest arches of this noble work—a work so sub-
stantial that it stood untroubled by the great earth-
quake. These three arches are 314 feet high and
100 wide; the extent of the aqueduct from the hills
to the grand reservoir within the walls of the city is
two Portuguese leagues and a half. It was begun.
1729, by John V., and finished 1748, two years before
his death. When we were set down again under our
inn gateway at Lisbon, a very trifling gratuity, in
MUSEUM
153
addition to what he had a right to expect, was given
to the postillion. The honest good fellow was as
grateful as if we had not, by our foolish disregard of
his prudent advice, put his life in jeopardy that day.
Our weather was unseasonable for Portugal, more
like an April in London than in Lisbon; on the 7th
it was so bad it was impossible to move out after
mid-day, when it become a thorough tempest of wind
and rain. In the morning, between the heavy
showers, we did contrive to go as far as the convent
of San Francisco, now converted into a public library,
, museum, &c. &c. Many valuable illuminated manu-
scripts, the spoil of the convent of Alcobaça, were
shown to us; also an old Hebrew Bible, several of the
old chronicles, in one a very curious view of Lisbon,
encircled by an army; second edition of Camoens:
copy of G. Resende's Cancionero’: numerous
portraits of monks, and bishops, and benefactors
to convents. It was with a melancholy and no com-
mon interest one looked upon the portraits of the
monks of this convent of San Francisco, taken down
from the walls against which some of them had rested
for centuries, torn from their frames and hung like
tattered rags to dry, on ropes that ran down the
centre of those spacious yet gloomy galleries, where
their prototypes were wont to pace to and fro with
princely dignity and power. The books are ranged
in shelves on either side of these galleries, and the
little cells which open upon the galleries are also filled
with books; the library contains from 80,000 to
100,000 volumes. There are a few interesting
pictures in the museum. The two that pleased me
most were · The Child Jesus' and The Descent from
C
154
THE CARMO
the Cross'; the former by Gran Vasco, the other by
Giulio Romano. The ‘Menino entre os Doutores,' also
by Gran Vasco, is likewise a most interesting picture.
Two or three beautiful engravings by Bartolozzi, who
died at Lisbon. Nothing very good in the statuary
gallery: it is principally occupied with plaster-casts
from the antique. Another old convent we visited, but
that is almost a complete ruin, the Carmo, which gave
the name to the little square where it was erected by
the Constable D. Numo Alvares Pereira, 1422, in fulfil-
ment of a vow upon the victory of Aljubarto. It was
thrown down by the earthquake of 1755. The church is
a grand ruin : the marble pillars and arches are stand-
ing. I was told it had been in contemplation to
restore the building toits former state ; that they began
with the church, but the good work, through want
of funds or some political movements in this fitfully
distracted country, had been stopped; this would
clearly account for what struck me as almost super-
natural—those grand pillars and arches, keeping
their places unmoved when roof and walls and every-
thing else was thrown to the ground -a melancholy
sight to see a work so glorious thus destroyed !
Lovely bits of columns and pillars and ornaments,
delicately carved in marble, liestrewn about unheeded.
The western gateway, which opens upon the
square, where, by the way, is a very beautiful
fountain, that in its form reminded me a little of the
chapel on the sands near Matazinhos, is particularly
rich in ornament. The rooms leading from the
cloisters are converted into stables for the Municipal
Guard, and splendid stables they make. Such parts
of the convent as stood the earthquake, so far as to
AT LARANJEIRAS
155
allow of repair, are now used as dwelling-houses,
and some of these look upon the standing arches of
the church, and the heaps of fallen rubbish out of
which rise the stately pillars that support them ;
these beautiful Gothic arches, all perfect, standing
amid such a mass of ruin, make the picture even
more melancholy than if they too were broken.
We turned aside to the terrace before the custom-
house, and the river view was peculiarly interesting,
the weather being like that of a wild fitful English
April day, masses of black cloud, fields of blue sky,
sunshine and shower; the ships tossing about at
anchor as on a stormy sea, seagulls flying in and
among the sails, then suddenly sinking to dip their
white wings in the whiter waves, then rising again,
and as they rose the sunshine catching their feathers,
and turning them for a moment into burnished
silver.
The next morning beautiful, at which we much
rejoiced, as we had arranged to start for Cintra at
mid-day : this we did, and had a fine view, as we were
leaving Lisbon, of the Church of the Estrella, and not
long after of the three highest arches of the aqueduct,
and for several miles here and there we caught a
glimpse of this grand work. On the road to Cintra we
pass the gay Quinta das Larangeiras, or the Orangery,
a suburban seat of the Conde de Farrobo, better
known with us as the Baron Quintella. Strangers
may obtain a ticket of admittance by application at
the Conde's magnificent town residence in the Rua
do Alecrim-Rosemary Street. Both the town and
country mansions were somewhat over-furnished
and over-ornate; the wealth of the owner is every-
156
QUINTA D’ABRANTES
where conspicuous. Detached from his villa is a
private theatre, one of the most splendid in Europe.
In the grounds are various gardens, a labyrinth,
summer-houses, costly conservatories. The king of
beasts, with his grim court of tigers, panthers, and
other uncivil brutes, is royally lodged in a marble
menagerie. There is an artificial lake, a canal for
irrigation, and a suspension bridge, and an obelisk
which was raised by the father of the present
proprietor, as a memorial of the expulsion of the
French.
The present residence of the Princess Dona
Isabel, who was regent till the arrival of her brother,
Don Miguel, is also in this neighbourhood. It was
formerly known as the Quinta of the Marquis
of Abrantes, also of De Visme, by whom it was laid
out in the English taste.' . It is famous for its
botanical rarities. Here are two of the finest
cedars of Lebanon in the kingdom; two South
American pepper-trees, of rare beauty and height;
two Japan Salisburys (Salisburias de Japan ?), the
only specimens in Portugal, and an avenue of
magnolias.
The deserted convent of Saint Dominick of
Benefica was purchased a year ago by a German
merchant. This monastery is described in the life
of Saint Dominick by that excellent classic Frei de
Sousa, whose long-lost ‘Annals of John III.' have
recently been discovered in the original manuscript
and published. Two remarkable men were buried
in this convent, João das Regras, the famous juris-
consult and statesman, whose influence determined
the Cortes of Coimbra to confirm the claim of the
QUELUZ
157
Master of Avis (John I.) to the throne ; and Don
João de Castro, the Viceroy of India.
At Luz are the ruins of a convent and church
which were demolished by the earthquake, the prin-
cipal chapel alone resisting the shock. In the centre
of this chapel is the tomb of the foundress, Dona
Maria, the learned daughter of King Emanuel. A
few old paintings are preserved here, of which the
most remarkable is that over the first altar on the
by Gran Vasco. At Queluz is the palace which was
the usual abode of John VI. and of Don Miguel; and
here Don Pedro, 'the romantic emperor who fought
for liberty,' died in a chamber that had something
ominous in its name—the chamber of Don Quixote.
The palace is two leagues from Lisbon, on the left
of the road; it is a large and irregular mass of
building, erected at various periods. It has not, like
the Ajuda, a connected suite of rooms of state ; but
the Sala das Talhas is a majestic apartment, of which
many of the appropriate Oriental ornaments have
been removed to Belem; and the Hall of Mirrors,
too, is of great splendour and beauty, though it has
lost its magnificent carpet, that was not long since
cut to adorn three of the saloons in the Palace of
Necessidades, which we may therefore fairly anglicise,
the Palace of Makeshifts. The fishponds and the
extensive preserves of game round this Queluz palace
made it particularly attractive to that sporting cha-
racter, Don Miguel, on whose cranium the organ of
destructiveness was, or should have been, largely
developed. My account of these places on or near
the road I have taken from the little Lisbon guide-
158
RAMALHÃO
book already referred to, and from the report of one
of my fellow-travellers, to whom the ground is not
new. There is nothing striking in the face of the
country till you come within sight of the Serra of
Cintra-truly a Serra! Green hills, or rather
mounds, part arable, part pasture, with no other
wood than a few stray trees here and there in the
fences that mark the different fields. Were those
round green hills judiciously planted, this sort of
country would be lovely—a soothing contrast to the
restless ocean, and to the wild, jagged mountains
you are approaching, which rise so unexpectedly out
of those soft green mounds that have so long con-
cealed it from your sight. We descended gradually
from the higher ground, whence the mountain first
showed itself, and were soon in among the orange
groves and lime-tree avenues of this lovely spot.
Passed the palace and gardens of Ramalhão to the
left. What strange anecdotes are related of its late
possessor, the old Queen Carlota Joaquina ! But
they cannot all be true; royalty in Portugal has long
ceased to be a shield against party faction and popu-
lar malice; and the mother and supposed instigator
of the dark policy of Don Miguel may have been
much maligned. Even Don Miguel himself can
hardly be so black as he has been painted. Until
the expulsion of this would-be Rei absoluto in 1834,
Ramalhão was the richest of all the palaces in furni-
ture, decorations, and things of vertu; but Don
Pedro ordered all to be removed to Lisbon, and great
was the demolition of clocks and china on the road,
from careless packing. The Palaces of Necessidades
and Belem, or Ajuda, were enriched by the spoils;
CINTRA
159
but many of the more serviceable and some of the
precious articles were subsequently transmitted to
Cintra, to yonder famous · Moorish 'palace, which
now, as we wind round the north-east shoulder of
the mountain, comes in sight, with the little town
nestling close under the huge rocks, at the instep of
the Serra-Mafra, in the northern distance, breaking
the outline of the horizon. The Portuguese, ever
jealous, or perhaps nobly emulous of the Spaniards,
boast of their Alhambra in that Moorish palace, and of
their Escurialin yon majestic Mafra, raised by the piety
of the colossal builder, King Alfonso V., in honour of
the King of kings. But such parallels are hardly
judicious, for they cannot be well sustained ; and we
may be content to admire the desolate grandeur of
Mafra, and the hale old age of the quasi-arabesque
pile at Cintra, without disturbing our admiration by
invidious comparisons. Between Cintra and Mafra,
undulating ground, but so slightly undulating that
beyond the space of a mile or two it appears like a
dead flat, not very green, and with scarcely any
wood; but the spring is backward, and a week or
two hence more verdure may appear. This bare
country, which extends for miles below Cintra, by.
contrast increases the richness of her gardens and
groves and stately forest-trees; and, in conjunction
with the brave rocky heights that rise above the
town, makes Cintra a place to dream over rather
than to describe; it is so unlike any other reality
that it has been my lot to witness. I remember
how Mr. Canning, when a visitor at Storrs on Win-
andermere, used frequently to ride into our own dear
Easedale, and to linger there for hours together,
160
CINTRA
OLU OL 10.
because, as he said, it reminded him of Cintra.
The association, however strong, could not have
been complete. Crag, wood, water, freshness, and
peace belong to both : some of the features are alike;
but the form and the expression are altogether dif-
ferent. I can fancy many an Easedale in the world,
but no second Cintra. So thought Mr. Southey, to
whom our fells and waters were almost as familiar
as his books. Many a time has he told me that he
knew no place which resembled Cintra ; and, thus
prepared for its peculiarity, I was as much surprised
and delighted as if I had never heard of it.
We drove to one of the two principal inns, and
tried to make a bargain with the hostess, an English-
woman married to a Swiss, but could not succeed.
I have but one price,' was her reply, and that to us
seemed an extravagant price for such accommodation
as her dark, damp, tumble-down house could afford,
three new crowns (eighteen vintens per day) a head.
The weather continued beautiful through the day,
but cold, even for an April day in England, and I
was glad to wrap myself up in a long woollen cloak
while we strolled towards evening on the Collares
road, where we fell in with a flock, which we had
the curiosity to count as it passed, 139 goats and 15
kids, following one goatherd. We could only stroll
about this evening; but in the morning-a very
beautiful one—we started soon after nine o'clock for
the Penha, a small convent of Jeronymites, built on.
the highest point of the Serra, by order of King
Emanuel, in 1503. It was at first made of wood,
which only lasted eight years. The king, seeing
how perishable such material was in so exposed a
CINTRA
161
situation, commanded it to be rebuilt of stone. This
was in 1511. The convent was capable of contain-
ing eighteen monks.
Our monture was of the humblest. Even the
poet who would be carried up these steeps in safety
must submit to leave his Pegasus in the valley, and
console his pride with the old Portuguese proverb,
· Better is the ass that carries me than the horse
that throws me.'
. We ascended the hill at the east end, the road
stiff and winding, but very good, and commanding
fine views of the rich garden-ground immediately
below you, and the soft undulating tract beyond,
which extends to the horizon.
Picturesque churches and quintas, and those
heart-moving stone crosses making beautiful fore-
grounds to these grand Rubens-like landscapes; and
then, hanging overhead, the jagged rocks and peaks
of this singular and most romantic mountain. The
first half of the road is paved; you then enter upon
a capital macadamized road, just made by the king--
consort, up to the convent, which he has purchased
and converted into a summer's day residence for
himself and his queen. He has rebuilt the high
tower, which had fallen, restored the old building
with additions and approaches that give it the air of
a Gothic castle, rather than of a convent, and he is
now adding a square tower to the west, which will
be in keeping with the other parts. In the pleasure
grounds neat bridges have been laid across the
ravines, but I hardly know what to say of the sun-
mer houses and other small structures in the guise
of Grecian temples. Walks are cut in every direc-
162
CINTRA
.
tion, and the ground is clad with geraniums, scarlet
and lilac (planted, of course), as our Cambrian
heights might be with heather. The monks might
well-nigh see what was passing in Lisbon, and watch
every ship that sailed thence down to the sea. The
mountain view beyond the Tagus is very fine. From
the convent we proceeded to the Moorish castle,'
that crowns another peak hard by. Little remains
except the outer wall, and this the king is restoring;
at the same time planting and laying out in pleasure
ground the space within. A few wild beasts and
birds, not European, are kept here ; two or three
head of deer, and a pair of lovely little gazelles. We
descended the hill more to the west, and joined the
Colares road near to the Marialva Palace, and on this
road proceeded as far as Penha Verde, a quinta built
by Don João de Castro after his return from India,
where he was the fourth Viceroy. The view from a
platform before the little chapel (or rather hermitage,
for 'Ermida' it is called) upon a projecting rock at
some distance from the house, a double avenue of
noble trees conducting you to it, is rich and beau-
tiful down into the plain, and up to the mountain
behind very grand. On quitting the Penha Verde,
we retraced our steps as far as the Marialva Palace,
and thence went direct to our inn, which we reached
before one o'clock.
In the afternoon we tried to gain admittance into
the Moorish Palace, but failing in this, we strolled
towards the Marialva Palace, taking the road below
the house. Presently we turned to the left, along a
pretty wild green lane that runs under the boundary
wall of the palace pleasure grounds, and which is
terminated by the entrance gates to some other
CINTRA
163
quinta. Here we opened the wicket of an immense
yard door, which disclosed to us a most tempting
pathway through a beautiful wood. We took it,
hoping it might lead us out upon the Upper Cintra
road; but having pursued it some distance, it seemed
prudent to retrace our steps, as the path for ever
made its way downwards, and not upwards, as we
desired. A lovely walk it was : fine cork-trees;
immense rock-like stones, some bright with silver
lichens, others rich with golden ones; ground carpeted
with starry periwinkles; white stars and blue stars ;
Jacob's ladder; laurustinus, no longer in blossom ;
ferns, such as we have in our woods, and heather
Folk's Love,' the 'weed of glorious feature,' loved
by the fairies), and the elder-tree; and here and
there a primrose peeping out from under a huge over-
shadowing, mossy stone, and hyacinths and blue-
bells and the hawthorn, all these in full flower; and
then the orange groves, and lemon groves, laden
with bloom and green fruit, and yellow and golden
fruit, all at once sending to you on the wings of the
wind the most delicious perfume. But often you
know not whence the fragrance comes; for unfor-
tunately the walls are so high, that when you are on
the main roads you can see little beauty except what
their rich clothing of moss and ferns and flowers
presents, and that of the forest trees and majestic
rocks which appear above them.
April 11.
A very showery, unpromising morning, after a
night of boisterous wind and heavy rain. Between
showers we got as far as the palace, and after some
M
2
164
CINTRA
TUL
little delay, were admitted. A flight of broad wooden
stairs, not handsome, leads you to the entresol,
whence you ascend a very pretty winding staircase
to the hall, into which some of the principal apart-
ments open. The trickling of a fountain placed at
one side of this hall must be a most grateful sound
on a hot summer-day.
The first apartment we visited was the “Swan
Chamber,' so called from the ceiling being tastefully
painted in compartments, each containing a swan,
and the attitude of every swan varying a little. It
is a very large, long room, beautifully proportioned ;
windows on each side ; those to the south looking
on the mountains, those to the north into a pretty
upstairs court, paved with blue and various-coloured
tiles; a fountain in the centre, which only plays
when told to do so, and a most fanciful bath and
shower-bath chamber, tiled floor, and walls, and roof,
partly painted and partly bas-relievos in plaster. The
shower-bath comes not from the roof, but from the
upper part of the end walls, and the water is ejected
with so much force as to meet in the middle of the
room. But all this is baby-play, and hardly worth
noting down, where we have to speak of the apart-
ment in which Don Sebastian held the fatal council
in which, notwithstanding some warnings, ominously
wise, it was decided to undertake the expedition
which led to the overthrow of Portugal. It is a
small low room, with a narrow slip at one end,
marked off by four simple round pillars. Sebastian's
chair occupies one end of this slip; it is simply a
projection of the wall, with arms built up at both
sides, the arms, seat, back all covered with pantiles.
Along the side wall, and at the opposite end, runs a
Y
L
.
CINTRA
165
narrow stone seat, where sat the peers. The wall
above this seat-rather higher than the head can
reach, and below it to the floor-is covered with the
same sort of tiles that adorn the king's throne.
The floor is of common unglazed red tiles. In this
little simple room did Don Sebastian and his peers
come to that disastrous determination. The dining-
room, Sala das Pegas (Magpie chamber), is a very
curious and elegant apartment. The Sala das Armas
(Hall of Shields), one of the most remarkable rooms
in Europe, is now degraded to a billiard-room, to the
disgust of Duarte d’Armas, if the ghost of the old
heraldic painter still haunt these walls, which it was
his glory to decorate. It is yet a truly splendid
chamber. The ceiling was painted by command of
Emanuel, with the arms of the chief Portuguese
nobility. This ceiling is dome-shaped. The royal
arms occupy the centre ; below that a broad circle
comprises the escutcheons of the princes of the blood,
and below that again are two circles or rounds, hung
with the arms of the nobility. The effect is gorgeous,
more fair and pleasant to look on,' says a quaint old
writer, 'than a field full of flowers. There is a unity
in the diversity which is indeed very beautiful, for
each shield rests on the same sort of background, a
stag couchant, the shield being suspended like a locket
round the stag's neck. Immediately below the cornice
of the ceiling the following verses are painted on the
four walls in great golden letters :-
Pois com esforços e leaes
Serviços forão ganhados,
Com estes, e outros taes,
Devem de ser conservados.
Honours by worth and loyal service gain'd,
By these, and such as these, must be maintain'd.
166
POR BEM
I should like to know the meaning, if there be a
meaning, of the stags, and the swans, too. The mag-
pie ceiling has its own pretty tale, which was well
told by the guide. A young Portuguese lady in our
company reading “Por Bem,' on every magpie's
tongue, prettily asked, 'What good?' I wish I could
repeat his answer verbatim.
John I. had risen early to hunt at some distance
from Cintra. In passing through this chamber he
chanced to meet one of the maids of honour, and
presented a rose to her, at the same time salut-
ing her on the cheek. The gallantry was not unwit-
nessed, for the queen was entering the room by a
side door. In the confusion of detection, the king
could only say, “Por bem, por bem ;.” meaning that
he had meant no harm, only taken an innocent
liberty. The queen made no remark; but her revenge
showed that she was not implacably offended. On the
king's return, after a few days, he found the roof of
his dining-room painted all over with magpies, each
bird holding a rose-branch in its claws, and a label in
its beak, on which label were painted the words“ Por
bem, por bem.” The king was pleased to be rebuked
so playfully, and adopted the Por bem for his motto.'
This was our guide's version of the tale, and much
the prettiest of the three traditions that are current.
A second tells us that the king himself caused the
ceiling of the room to be painted in that manner, in
attestation of the innocence of the proceeding in
which he had been detected, and that he now applied,
in the sense of our Honi soit qui mal y pense, the
motto Por bem, which he had previously adopted as a
declaration of his disposition to do good to his people.
A ROYAL PRISONER
167
The third interpretation is, that the adventure was
whispered from mouth to mouth among the ladies, to
the scandal and great disturbance of the poor maid of
honour, and that the king, to punish the palace gossips,
caused their malicious garrulity to be thus typified.
On the floor of another apartment, a small and
humble room, we gazed with a yet deeper interest
than upon these richly-painted ceilings—the floor of
the room in which the ill-starred Don Affonso VI.,
brother-in-law of our Charles II., died a prisoner in
his own palace, confined by his own wife and brother,
whose impious union at the altar had followed his
deposition, and had afterwards been sanctioned by his
Holiness Clement IX.; for not even the form of a
The captive king—for he was yet a king—not
formally discrowned, though so effectually dethroned
-made the circuit of his mill-horse-like tether as
wide as his narrow cell would permit, for his feet
have left their traces as near to the wall as well
could be : there is the foot-grooved pathway to tell
its own tale of his misery. It may be that his youth
was wild and his manhood wilful ; it may even be
that he was incorrigibly weak, perverse, debauched,
low in his habits, and in his choice of companions,
and that he was altogether unroyal. So says the
Abbé de Vertot, whose popular account is drawn
from sources that required much more careful filter-
ing than he was disposed to trouble himself with.
Affonso VI. was born in 1643. His father, John
IV., who, less by his own energy than by that of his
Spanish wife, had wrested the kingdom from the
grasp of Spain, died in 1656. Donna Louisa, the
168
THE QUEEN-MOTHER
queen-mother, held the regency for her son long
after his legal minority (15) had expired. This would
rather seem to imply a flexibility of will in the youth
than the stubbornness attributed to him. His mother
was an able and magnanimous but imperious prin-
cess, tenacious of power; and happier might it have
been for him if she had been allowed to retain her
authority yet longer. But he demanded his right;
she resigned her sway, and soon retired to a convent,
where she survived but a short time. .
She has been accused of undue partiality to the
younger brother Pedro. At least she was no party
to the worst of his deeds against the elder, for they
were perpetrated after her decease. Affonso married
in 1666 a French princess of the house of Nemours.
If the beauty of her mind had been equal to that of
her person, he might have become a respectable
prince, or at least have lived out his days undistin-
guished by the peculiar fate that must ever excite.
sympathy.
But she was a willing instrument in the hands
of the Jesuits, for her husband's brother had found
favour in her sight. The king was deposed and
exiled to the island of Terceira, whence he was
brought back and shut up more securely in this
grated cell, from which death released him in his
forty-first year. Communicating with that cell by
a side passage is a little square apartment closely
grated and close to the ceiling. From this spot we
looked down into the chapel through the very grating
through which Affonso, himself invisible from below,
was allowed by the piety of his fraternal gaoler to
witness the daily performance of mass.
PALACE KITCHEN
169
Did the woman, his wife and his brother's wife,
did the man his brother, ever dare to pray in that
chapel, in the presence of their victim ? I suppose
not; for the chapel stands where it did, and the roof,
of peculiar carved wood, curiously painted, is said to
be the same roof that was there when Affonso VI.
heard mass.
But his bones are royally lodged at Belem. Let
us leave the grave he lived in, and descend to the
kitchen of the palace ; for that is a curiosity of its
kind. It would have been comparatively merciful
to have made a scullion, a Simnel, of him there; for
it is a great and not uncheerful apartment. The two
immense glass-manufactory-looking things outside,
which rise from the east end of the building, and of
which it is impossible for a stranger to guess what
can be or ever could have been the use, are the
kitchen chimneys, and they answer for walls, ceilings,
chimneys, and windows too! for the base of each is
so wide that the two occupy the whole room. The
lowest part I call the walls, so far as it keeps nearly
perpendicular; and when the sloping off begins, that
I consider chimney. But the build I cannot attempt
to describe, as I could not well understand it; for the
kitchen is not divided in the middle, and yet the two
chimneys are quite separate ; and how that enormous
weight of stone-work is supported, coming to the
ground only on three sides, I know not. Now, there
are stoves all down one side of this immense kitchen,
and from them there are iron flues to conduct the
smoke far away up, if not to the very top of these
huge funnels; so now they are of more use as light-
admitters than smoke-conductors. In addition to
170
THE FLUTE
the light which comes down from the top, and which
is but little, as the funnels diminish almost to a point,
there are windows half-way up, four in each chimney,
and at the same height.
One of our party tried the effect of a flute in this
kitchen. It was strange and delightful. The soft-
ness, the power, the growing swell of notes meant
to be soft and subdued, and the reverberation,
louder and yet sweeter than the notes themselves,
was almost awful, for it gave to the delicate flute
the character of an organ played by a wizard. The
player, however, was soon obliged to leave off; it
shook his nerves so, he could hardly stand. When
he was afterwards rallied on his faintness, he declared
that the reverberations thrilled on him intolerably,
and that the flute itself had got a sudden life in it,
so that after a few minutes he seemed himself to be
rather the thing played upon than the player. We
saw the private apartments of the king and queen,
most simply furnished. Chintz and muslin curtains ;
floors covered with Portuguese matting, very pretty;
some few large and handsome china bowls and
other ornaments of this kind; and baskets and
boxes of carved ivory from India, delicate in texture
and workmanship. The apartments of the children
modest and pretty, opening upon a charming old-
fashioned French garden, whence you see the little
town, the lofty Serra, the mighty ocean, and the
soft undulating ground that lies between the rough
rocks and the often rougher waters. But I must
hasten away from this spot, such a mine of sad
history, and tell of one more mountain ride up to
the Cork convent.
CINTRA
171
· On our way we again passed the Marialva Palace
and Penha Verde, and kept on the Collares road as.
far as Mr. Beckford's place, Monserrat; so called,
not after one of his West Indian estates, as it was
pretended, but because the site on which he erected
his villa had been long known by that name, from
an oratory built there in 1540 by Gaspar Preto, a
priest, who, however, seems to have had no fancy
either for the colour or substance of the image of
Monserrat in Catalonia, for instead of a black
wooden Virgin he procured one of alabaster from
Rome. The villa of England's wealthiest son,' as
Childe Harold termed him, stands on a green knoll
that projects far into the valley, forming a complete
promontory, and thus commanding unobstructed
views in every direction. The ground immediately
about it is exceedingly beautiful, with sloping
lawns, now green and soft as the richest velvet,
dashing, sparkling, leaping, roaring waterfalls,
silent pools, gardens and orange groves, stately
trees, and wooded park-like sward, extending to
the outskirts of the uncultivated country, and so
partaking both of the wild and cultivated beauty of
Cintra. The house is a temple for the winds; many
buildings that have been ruins for centuries are
not so ruinous, not a tile of a roof remaining-truly
a melancholy spectacle. We were told that the
French soldiers unroofed the house, and industri-
ously destroyed everything that could be destroyed,
out of malice to the English. On the other hand, it
has been asserted that the original vicious construc-
tion of the building, hastily run up, was the cause
of its dilapidation, and that, like the Tower of
172
THE CORK CONVENT
Fonthill, it was devoted to early ruin by the
negligence of the architect or the impatience of his
employer. On leaving the gateless gateway of
Monserrat, we crossed the road, and at once began
to ascend the hill, very steep in many places, wild
and beautiful in all. Stone crosses at regular
distances would have marked our road, had we not
had good guidance in the path, and still better in
our donkeys. After a considerable ascent we
descended a little, and then came to a green hollow;
here we spied, among immense grey stones, some-
thing like the lines of a lowly dwelling. The
donkeys threaded in amongst these huge stones,
and then stopped; we dismounted, but could dis-
cover no entrance. Our boy pointed to a tiny
aperture behind one of these grey giants; we passed
through it, and saw a few stone steps before us ;
these we ascended, and found ourselves in a little
oblong-square grass plot, shaded by rocks and trees,
with stone seats and a stone table, and a pretty
fountain and a tiny chapel at the far end, and
crosses everywhere, all of the cork-tree bark. A
poor lame man answered the boy's call, and opened
the convent door, which we crept through, and then
came to another pretty lawn, circular in form, in
the centre of which once stood a stone fountain ;
the basin only now remains, and below this grass
plot lies the terraced garden. We again entered the
convent, and groped our way upstairs and into the
cupboard cells, and down to the refectory, which is
just spacious enough to hold a stone table and a
narrow bench on each side. Ten monks must have
found some difficulty in sitting at that small table.
COLLARES
173
The kitchen is close by. The altar of this tiny
chapel has been extremely pretty, but nothing now
remains of its fittings-up except the marble pix, and
that has been robbed of its crowning ornament, the
cross. The old man told us that the proprietor of
this convent meant to restore it exactly, and that
the good work was to begin this summer. But cui
bono? Can he restore the monks ? Or would he if
he could ? The kernel gone, of what use is it to
repair the cracked nutshell ?
We descended by the Collares side of the moun-
tain; and here, above Collares, its character varies.
You have left the rocks and stony peaks behind you,
and they are exchanged for round green hills, which
gradually diminish in height till they reach the sea.
Nothing can be more grand, and at the same time
lovely, than this descent into Collares; for on leaving
the crags you at once find yourself among orange
groves and orchards and gardens, and quintas, and
tinkling rills, with a wide stretch of wood and
meadow below you, and those towering convent-
crested, castle-crested heights above you. We were
most fortunate, too, in our weather; not a drop of
rain fell, but the sky was full of clouds, and the
sun made a great struggle for victory, the wind
helping him, and driving the shadows over hill
and over vale, so as to produce that witchery of
sunshine and shadow so familiar and so dear to
mountain dwellers.
Collares is situated in the valley of Varséa. It is
no longer the paradise of Carmelite Fathers, but its
quintas and orchards still flourish, and it can yet
boast of its wine. The district abounds in orchards
174
STONE OF JUDGMENT
T7
so fruitful that the Gallamares stream, as soon as it
enters the Varséa, or open plain, takes the name of
Rio das Maçans—the River of Apples; and in
Lisbon the general name for female vendors of fruit
is Collarejas, from the number of Collares girls who
cry their apples, pears, and peaches about the streets.
All the way from Collares to the sea-shore, about a
league westward, the river runs through a little
Herefordshire. Near its mouth is a bathing-place
called the Apple-strand, Praça das Maçans, much
frequented in summer, though known to be danger-
ous. Seven or eight years ago three ladies, while
bathing, were suddenly sucked in by the waves, their
guides sharing the same fate. Only one of the bodies
was recovered. The rest were never more seen.
On this coast is an enormous rock called the
Pedra de Alvidrar (the Stone of Judgment), rising
almost perpendicularly from the sea, which thunders
at its base. This rock is one of the lions of Cintra,
where a very foolish and perilous custom prevails,
unfeelingly encouraged by visitors. For the smallest
gratuity, men and children will crawl on hands and
knees down this slippery precipice till they are wet
through with the spray of the surge; the least slip
is perdition, for there is nothing to hold by. An
adventure that the stoutest-hearted soldier would
shrink from is repeatedly braved by almost any youth
or boy of the neighbourhood; and so it has been
from time immemorial. Duartes Nunes de Leão, in
his description of Portugal, speaks of it as a most
ancient practice.
Aloft on this same coast is the Oratory of our
Lady of the Peninha, or the Lesser Rock, so called
LEGEND
175
K
as standing on a crag somewhat inferior in elevation
to that on which the convent of Penha was built.
The Visconde de Jurumenha gives us a tradition
which he relates with the plain seriousness of one
who believes what he tells. This devout simplicity, if
it must be so called, pervades his work, and is to me its
not unpleasing characteristic. I cannot for myself,
however, pretend that I have the least faith in the
following legend, or "sacred idyl,' as the Visconde
calls it; yet I will repeat it after him, for it is proper
to the nation and the place.
Once upon a time then, that is to say, above 320
years since, in the reign of John III., there was a
little dumb girl of a neighbouring village who used
to tend her flock upon the mountain. One day a
white ewe ran away from her as fast as it could run,
until it reached the very pinnacle. The shepherdess
followed in great distress. On gaining the summit
she saw with wonder, at the side of the runaway
ewe, a most beautiful maiden, who asked her what
she was looking for. The shepherdess, suddenly ac-
quiring the gift of speech, pointed to the stray sheep,
and answered that the animal she was in search of
was there. The bright stranger told the child to
take it back to her mother, and ask her for bread. It
was a year of scarcity, and poor people were starving;
so the girl declared that her mother had no bread to
give her; but the stranger assured her there were
several loaves in a certain chest in the house. On
reaching the door of her home, the shepherdess
called out to her mother, who could hardly believe
it was her daughter whom she saw and heard, for no
one had ever heard the child speak before. The
176
LEGEND
astonished woman was so loud in her joy that the
neighbours came to learn what was the matter, and
they also were wonder-smitten at hearing the 'dumb
girl' ask for bread. Her mother answered that she
had none; but the daughter told her that she had;
and leading her to the chest, opened it, and there
were five or six loaves! The child then explained all
that had happened to her on the Serra. Thither her
kinsfolk and neighbours hastened in search of the
stranger, and examining every nook and cranny, they
at last perceived some newly-hewn stones that had
been carefully laid over a crevice by some unknown
hand. On removing these stones, they found a rudely
sculptured stoneimage of Our Lady,' four spans high.
This they carried to the very ancient hermitage of
St. Saturninus, not far off, and there they left it.
But 'Our Lady,' who had already selected her own
location, returned to the spot whence she had been
removed. Twice more was she restored to St.
Saturninus, and as often did she desert him for the
peak of her own choice. The poor villagers, thus
assured of her will, resolved to build for her on that
spot an oratory, such as their scanty means could
supply. Accordingly, they erected a very little chapel
of uncemented stones, and placed the image on a
bracket within it. The simple structure, in so ex-
posed a position, was soon dilapidated by wind and
weather; but the inhabitants of the neighbouring
hamlets then repaired and strengthened it.
In the time of King Henry the Cardinal, about
1579, the veneration in which this image was held
having been gradually much increased, a fund was
raised, by which a little more state was given to
BROTHER PETER
177
Our Lady of the Peninha in her chosen home, and
here she remained without further disturbance till
about 1672, when Brother Peter of the Conception,
a master stonemason, in the prime of life, came with
some brethren of his craft to the Oratory, and having
resolved to pass the remainder of his days here, in
the service of the genius loci, assumed the habit of
an Eremite of Our Lady of the Carmo,' and com-
menced the construction of a new church. But the
Padres Vicentes— Vincent Fathers—soon interfered,
and required him to compound with them for the
alms and offerings to Our Lady;' that is, for the
profits of the place, or else to give up a site which
they claimed as an appurtenance to the Ermida of
St. Saturninus, held by their order in right of gift
from Sancho I. The sturdy hermit, however, suc-
cessfully resisted their demand, and prudently refused
to pay them even one chicken per annum, or what
we call a peppercorn rent; for he was wily enough
to foresee that their claim thus sanctioned, his rent
might be raised, or an ejectment enforced. The dis-
pute throws a light sufficiently significant on the
original miracle, and the repeated escape of the prize
from St. Saturninus.
The Carmelite Fathers, too, now put in their claim
for both the image and the fane, on the plea that the
builder of the latter was, by his own act, a Carmelite.
The hermit, however, managed to defeat them also
by conciliating the protection of the Archbishop of
Lisbon. The work then proceeded prosperously, and
a handsome church was completed, and also accom-
modations for pilgrims, the Serra supplying abun-
dance of various-coloured marbles both for use and
N
178
BROTHER PETER
ornament. The image of the Peninha thus became,
no doubt, a nest-egg of value. But the hermit Peter
was no sordid hypocrite, for he expended his own
substance (a legacy from a relation) on the work to
which he believed himself called. Don Pedro II.
granted him some waste land, by the cultivation
of which he was enabled to furnish the chapel with
wax and oil, and to pay a stipend to the Archbishop
of Lisbon's chaplain, who said mass there on Sundays
and holy days. Was this donation of Pedro II. one
of those salves to his conscience, if he had any, for
his fraternal dealings towards the royal prisoner at
Cintra ? The hermit Peter lived here for thirty-five
years. He died at the age of sixty-three, and was
buried at the outside of the church door, in a grave
that he had dug with his own hands, and this was
his epitaph: 'Here Lies the Anchorite of Our Lady
of the Rock. Brother Peter begs a Paternoster and
an Ave Maria from all good pilgrims'-pelos bemfei-
tores, not for his own soul, but for the souls of his
benefactors, as I interpret it.
The road from Collares to Cintra is exquisitely
beautiful ; it is carried along the side of the hill, is
overshadowed by the finest trees, and for ever crossed
by streams and streamlets that come leaping and
dancing down the rugged mountain, now in slender
cataracts, now in pretty falls of water, whose white
foam you see sparkling among the grey stones,
through the green leaves, or under the dark trunk of
some noble old cork-tree.
These rills and rivulets are, may be, the greatest
charm of Cintra ; if you see them not, you hear their
sweet music everywhere.
CINTRA
179
Below you, to the left, green fields inlaid with
a quiet stream, fringed here and there with wood;
and orchards and orange groves and quintas, and
cottages peeping out from among the leaves or over-
shadowed by grand forest trees; and then the flowers,
both in the gardens and growing wild by the road-
side, and the picturesque fountains to receive the pure
cool water that comes leaping down the hill, and give
it out to the thirsty pilgrim! The fountains are
always shaded by trees, with seats most tempting to
repose. In addition to all this tender beauty is the
sublime beauty of the white waves of the Atlantic
breaking upon the shore behind you to the west.
Another stormy night; a wet, unpromising morning.
Between the showers I strolled out with my sketch-
book, and succeeded in getting what I wanted—the
outline of the Serra from a turn in the Collares road.
I mention this that I may tell of the difference in
manners between the people here and in Oporto and
its neighbourhood. There, in the most retired place,
I was literally mobbed by men, women, and children,
whenever I attempted to make a sketch; while here,
on the contrary, though I was standing in the public
road, not a creature even slackened his pace to stare
at me, but every one greeted me as he passed with a
gracious Viva Senhora, or someother kind words. Pro-
bably they are much accustomed to sketch-books here
which is surely not the case in the North of Portugal.
I have not seen a pretty woman since we left St.
are far inferior to their sisters of the North. Of their
figure, to be sure, you cannot judge so well, as it is
generally concealed by the long dull-brown cloak which
N 2
180
CINTRA
is universally worn by all who can afford to purchase a
cloak. A square white kerchieftied under the chin, the
corner hanging down behind, is the only covering to
the head. Those who do not possess cloaks wear some
shabby shawl or cotton kerchief pinned over the
shoulders. In Lisbon I observed a few of the long
scarlet cloaks trimmed and faced with a broad stripe
of black velvet.
In Collares I saw a man wearing a black hat, the
crown of which was very high and sugar-loaf shaped ;
but the hats most generally worn have low, round,
barber-basin-like crowns, ornamented round the top
with tufts of black silk or worsted.
The oxen are much larger than in Oporto—more
like the breed of Durham short-horns. The carri-
ages are built in the same unwieldy fashion, wheels
and axle-trees revolving together, and the wheel (as
if) of one solid circle, with two very small semicircles
cut out near the middle. The wheels are much
larger in diameter than in the north of Portugal, and
the pole of the waggon stands high in proportion ;.
sometimes, when the oxen are under the usual size,
the pole is almost on a line with the line of their
backs, and the effect is particularly awkward.
I left Cintra with a heart full of deep thankful-
ness for having been permitted to see a spot which
must be one of the loveliest spots on earth, and if not
the very loveliest one, certainly unique in its character
of beauty and its strangeness. By Cintra, I do not
mean merely the town, the palace, the convents, but
the whole range of mountain. What man has done
is nothing to the situation itself ! Enchanting is the
sudden transition from a comparatively barren and
CINTRA-GLOW-WORMS
181
treeless waste to the richest verdure and most beau-
tiful garden-land, woodland, and finest forest scenery,
with those grand mountain-peaks rising out of the
mass of foliage, where the nightingales in this season
sing rapturously, and whence at all seasons comes
other waylaying music, that of the streams and
rivulets, which come dancing and leaping and rush-
ing down the steep hill-side, over huge grey stones,
or among stones clothed with the greenest moss, and
overshadowed by the noble trunks and branches of
secular-twice, thrice secular-trees. What pictures
do these falls of water make, when framed in by
these old trees! There was one immediately opposite
the window of our sitting-room, and we looked at it
and listened to its song under peculiarly happy cir-
cumstances, while the moon, nearly at her full, was
casting her soft bright light directly upon the Penha
convent, and the rugged peak from which it rises.
All else was in deep shade, except the fall of water,
and that was light to itself. This was a picture not
to be forgotten; but the charm of Cintra is, that it
is not to be forgotten by anyone who has seen and
felt its loveliness.
The drive from Cintra to Lisbon is less pleasing,
I think, than taking it the other way. But our day
was less favourable; we had little or no sun, and the
face of the country was cold and dreary. We were
too much in the dark too before we joined company
with our old companion the Aqueduct; but we had
other friends this Easter-day evening, who seemed to
brighten their lamps by way of greeting, as we passed
them— Glow-worms that love their emerald-light
to shed' by the wayside; we remarked one on the
182
LISBON
face of a high garden wall. How the little creature
got there or remained there, not pounced upon for
the supper of a nightingale, is more than I can tell.
We were much amused by our post-boys partially
unharnessing their horses and then quietly drawing
up the carriage to a fountain where the animals were
allowed to quench their thirst. Half an hour before
we had halted in a small village-there the horses ·
were fed with very good wheaten bread. Beggars
for cinco reis (a farthing coin, but literally five
kings ') crowded round the carriage. Most of them
were children, and boys and girls all told the same
story, 'I am fatherless. Not one among them would
allow he had a father.
Between the Quinta das Larangeiras and Lisbon
it seemed one string of carriages, so many were the
persons going on this Easter Sunday night to witness
an amateur performance at the private theatre
already spoken of. We returned to our rooms at the
Peninsula Hotel, where we were received with quite
a home welcome.
Monday, April 13.
Shocking weather-high wind, and rain falling
in torrents—no going out till evening, and then only
to the Opera, which is close to our hotel.
Tuesday.
Bright morning a great improvement upon yes-
terday, but still the sky is unsettled. In our walk
we passed through the fish-market. A few of the
outside stalls are appropriated to fruits and vegetables ;
the oranges and lemons are tastefully arranged
among green vegetables and pretty baskets of dried
fruits, and make these commonplace stalls look quite
LISBON
183
gay and neat. The mistress of one of the gayest was
a dark bright-eyed lassie, the prettiest girl I have
seen on the banks of the Tagus. Observe the manner
in which the fish-vendors arrange the conger-eels in
their baskets; they are made to look like magnificent
silver ornaments for giants. There you have the
Highland broach, and a broach in the form of a true
lover's knot,' and the crescent moon, &c. I must
again allude to my sketch-book, and for the same
reason I did so at Cintra, that I may tell of the
courtesy of the labouring class of the natives here.
I was sketching the outline of the hills on the south
side of the Tagus, from a sort of masons' yard, near
to the Braganza Hotel. The yard was full of work-
men, some hewing stone, others passing to and fro
with rubbish. Not one of these stayed hand or foot
to stare at me, but all greeted me civilly, and pursued
their work as if I had not been there. In about half
an hour I observed the master man and several others
standing about the gate. Presently I heard a jingling
of keys, but still I did not take, until another jingle
opened my eyes. It was sundown—their day's
labour was over, and they wished to lock up for the
night. I sent the servant to inquire—it was so, but
they were too polite to hurry me away by directly
telling me this.
We were at the Opera again-ballet the best
part of the entertainment. It was an Egyptian fancy
mystery--the dancing , excellent and the scenery
brilliant. The Queen and King Consort were present
in their private box. Her Majesty is very fond of
the Opera, when she can go to her private box; any-
thing of display or state is distasteful to her. She is
· 184
LISBON
never so happy as when riding in the lanes and woods
of Cintra on her donkey, with her husband and
children, to whom she is devoted. We heard much
of her amiable disposition. She is too tender-hearted
for a queen-for her own happiness, I mean. When
tales are brought to her of distress which she has
not the power to relieve, she weeps like a child.
But she has no real power. Her sceptre may be ·
likened to a living serpent, that may glide out of her
hand any day, but not without having stung her.
She is distracted by Proteus charters and ever-chang-
ing constitutions—by Liberal ministers, who would
govern her and her people with absolute sway, less
too for the lust of power than the lust of filthy lucre
-by an ill-armed, ill-paid, ill-conditioned soldiery,
ever ready for riot at the call of the highest bidder,
and military chiefs who would all be Cæsars over
Cæsar—by a discontented pauper people, who are
tired of carrying on their shoulders the quacks and
demagogues that have fooled them—a people who
have trusted everybody till they will trust nobody.
She is distracted between old friends and new friends,
One night our gentlemen went to the new theatre
in the Square of Don Pedro (how long will it retain
that name? for streets and squares change names
with every change of party). Our English friends
were much amused with the new tragedy, or melo-
drama, right merry and tragical, of The Twelve of
England, in which twelve English ladies, who have
been slandered by twelve English knights, are cham-
pioned by twelve Portuguese knights, none of their
own countrymen daring to fight for them. The
LISBON
•
185
twelve Englishmen, so dreaded, when arrayed in the
lists, shrank at the first onset, and stood in a row
with their heads down, to be struck in the back by
the valiant Portuguese, the. Lusos valerosos, and were
all killed in a moment. The enthusiasm of the
audience was tremendously funny; and when they
called for the author, the poor man presented himself
on the stage, pale as a tallow-chandler with the
triumph of genius. Camoens has told the story well,
and, like a true poet, patriotically and inoffensively.
But this play was the ne plus ultra of swaggering
balderdash. The story itself is as true, or as likely,
as the stories of Tom Thumb and Jack the Giant
Killer.
Some of our party succeeded yesterday in a call
at the door of the Torre do Tombo, that is, of that.
part of the old convent (new parliament house) in
which are now deposited the archives that were
formerly kept in the Tower of the Tomb, or in the
Castle-tower, which fell in the earthquake. Here
are preserved original state papers, laws, charters,
grants, and an immense collection of rolls and records,
some of them dating from the commencement of
the monarchy. We thought of poor Mr. Southey.
What a diligent historiographer would he have been
here had but leisure and opportunity been his! How
often did he long to be among these records, and
how frequently would he say that he looked to his
projected History of Portugal as the work on which
he founded his hope of a name—as if he had not
done enough to establish a reputation ! Not a page
of his history has appeared, nor perhaps ever will,
nor can, in the form that it would have best taken
186
LISBON
from his own hand. The History of Portugal—the
most romantic of histories—is still unwritten; so we
must console ourselves with such a one as we may
get from Senhor Herculano, librarian to the king-
consort. He is a hater of the English, because the
burgesses of Plymouth did not discover that a man
of mark had come among them, when he did them
the honour to make their town his place of exile for
a few months or weeks, I forget which, when Don
Miguel was king absolute, many years ago. He has
never forgotten the neglect, but has made for him-
self opportunities of abusing us, through the periodi-
cal press of Lisbon, in articles magnanimously signed
with his own name. We will forgive him all that
nonsense if he will truly and honestly digest the
materials open to him, and give us an orderly and
dispassionate compilation of facts. We can hardly
expect that he will be fair in this exposition of the
complicated relations that have subsisted for so many
centuries between England and Portugal, consider-
ing the temper of the man; but that is of no con-
sequence to us. Senhor Herculano's first volume,
already referred to, is the only one yet published.
It extends from the eighth till nearly the close of
the twelfth century only, and is more judicious than
might be expected from the feuilliste of the Lisbon
• Panorama.' In his advertisement, he even assures
his readers that his disposition is so impartial, that
in penning the history of his country he endeavours
to forget that he is a Portuguese. His readers would
scarcely wish him to do that. They will be contented
if he will soberly select the wheat from the chaff,
as to important particulars, and if, with the moral
LISBON
187
courage to which he lays claim, he will nought
extenuate, nor aught set down in malice.
We here saw the famous Bible of the Jeronymites,
volumes, vellum. This treasure was stolen by Junot,
and repurchased from his widow for a large sum !
Among its ornaments are some beautiful paintings,
attributed to Giulio Romano, but thought more like
Perrugino's. The book containing designs of the
ancient fortresses of the realm is most curious—the
illuminated prayer-book of our Queen Catherine was
a welcome sight.
We paid another visit to the Cathedral, to look
at St. Vicente's monument, which we had not
observed before. Nor must I omit to note two dead
infants which we saw carelessly laid on a sort of
stone shelf or projection, behind the high altar.
They were dressed neatly in white muslin caps,
coloured cotton frocks, and white pinafores, as if just
taken out of the cradle in their mother's cottage. I
insisted upon it that they were wax children. Mr.
assured me they were dead infants-angels,' as they
call them, and consider them-left there for burial :
still I could not help feeling sceptical. The clasped
hands of both-clasped and resting on the bosom
--were so like wax hands! beautifully moulded
certainly, for they seemed conscious that they were
not merely clasped but clasping. Yet there was in
the countenance of one of those 'angels' a painful
expression which might have convinced me the
child had lived, and that it had died in a convulsive
agony. On visiting the Cathedral early the next
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LISBON
morning, we saw in the same place, from which the
two others had been removed, three more waxen-
looking infants. There could be no longer any doubt
that they had been living flowers, 'no sooner blown
but blasted.' These are children of poor people, who
are allowed to leave them for Christian burial with-
out charge.
Thursday, April 16.
Beautiful morning ; wind from the north,
fortunately for us, who were bound for Cadiz by the
English steamer, which was to leave Lisbon at 2 P.M.
We were on board at the time specified, but a full
hour elapsed before command was given to weigh
anchor, and we were not sorry for this, as it gave us
an opportunity again, from the river, to study the
town, which a bright sun brought out in full beauty.
Still I felt Lisbon to be inferior to Oporto in
picturesque beauty ; but then it must be borne in
mind that almost all the striking points—the towers
and spires of Lisbon-were thrown down by the
earthquake, and few of them have been restored ;
and the Estrella Church, which has the one hand-
some tower and cupola, was disfigured just now by a
scaffolding, erected several months before, with the
intention of repairing some serious injury done by
lightning. No advance was yet made in the repairs,
and probably, according to Portuguese usage, this
scaffolding will be allowed to decay before they are
ready to begin the work.
In going down the river we saw that splendid
Church of Belem; but seeing it thus you can form
no conception of the glory of the building. The
Adjuda Palace looks imposing on the hill-the tower
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189
of Belem beautiful ; and the mouth of the Tagus,
with the fort of St. Julian growing out of the sea,
backed by the jagged Serra of Cintra, is indeed
deserving the fame it has acquired. Truly it is a
grand entrance to a mighty river, and such the Tagus
is, up to and beyond Lisbon.
The coast between the Tagus and the Cabo de
Espichel is rather tame, but that is a bold headland.
We passed Cape St. Vincent in the night and also
Trafalgar, and next day, soon after 2 P.M., were
in sight of Cadiz. The weather was brilliant, and
Cadiz looked under the bright blue sky a marble city
just evoked from the sea by some enchanter, to
glitter for a while in the sunshine. As we approached,
the town lost nothing of its Eastern story-book
character; the walls are so very white, and the bay
beautiful, and the curve which the buildings make
with the line of water most graceful! My heart
jumped as a steamer passed us with 'Sevilla' painted
in large letters on the paddle-box : it told me that a
dream of our lives was about to be realised. We
were presently at anchor among crowds of vessels.
We observed two French frigates and one French
war steamer. The health-boat and another boat
came out to us, and from the latter a Spanish military
officer, attended by an interpreter, and two soldiers
with swords drawn, came on deck. The lieutenant
in charge of the English mail asked the meaning of
that proceeding. This vessel,' said he, 'conveying
the British mail, comes into your harbour as a man-
of-war; you bring an armed force on board, and that
is an insult to the British flag, which must be
reported.' The Spaniard civilly apologised, ordered
190
ESPARTERO
his men to return to the boat, and requested to speak
privately to the officer in charge of the ship, and with
this plucky little man of the letter-bag,' as one of
the passengers termed him. The explanation con-
sequently given in the cabin, to which they retired
to discuss the great secret, was satisfactory and
amusing. A story had been got up all along the
coast that a grand dinner had been given to Espartero
in London, and that he was coming out in this, the
• Madrid,' steamer. No boats were allowed to come
off to us till the result of the officer's visit was com-
municated to the authorities on shore. Then many
crowded round our vessel, and a pretty picture they
made for us. We were saved all trouble of bargain-
ing with boatmen, &c., by putting ourselves into the
hands of Ximenez, to whose inn we had been
previously recommended by some fellow-passengers.
He came on deck, and took us ashore in his boat.
There was a strong wind against us, and we were
some time reaching the pier, which was crowded
with people gaping for news; and much disappointed
they were, I dare say, that we had none to impart.
All the luggage was put into a covered cart and taken
to the custom-house. We followed, and were civilly
treated: not half the packages were even opened ;
maybe five shillings slipped into the hand of the
officer had something to do with this. The custom-
house is in the gateway of the one entrance into the
city from the sea, Puesta de la Mar : this conducts
you into the large square, and thence diverge the
different streets : even here the fairy character of the
place does not leave you—you find the houses as fair
and white as they appeared, the streets very narrow
CADIZ
191
and admirably clean, no dirt or rubbish of any kind
to be seen, save a few fresh orange rinds dropped
here and there. To our inquiry how they came to
be so clean, our guide replied, “It seldom rains at
Cadiz, and the streets are carefully swept three times
a day, in the early morning, at noon, and at nightfall.'
Good shops, tastefully arranged; upstairs windows
curiously built, for they project considerably from the
wall, are glazed from top to bottom, and frequently
the floor of the projecting part is also of glass; they
are protected by iron bars, and all have balconies.
The form of the windows square. The balconies of
course project considerably beyond the glass, and in
looking up you see no support, so that they appear,
as one of our companions observed, like cages hung
out in the sun; and the ladies, who were looking
from them, half lost among roses, geraniums, and
other flowers that adorn the balconies, look like
imprisoned birds. The glass at the bottom is, I
conclude, to allow the fair prisoners to see and hear
more distinctly what passes immediately under their
cage. After threading for some time these high,
narrow, clean, and quiet bird-cage walks, we came
out upon the ramparts and the dashing, sparkling
sea; and here I found some of the little fellows, who
were holding the strings of those star-like kites which
had caught my eye as I entered the large square,
sailing in the deep blue sky, high above the marble
palaces. Our inn-Ximenez, English hotel,' not
the head inn'--was close by. We had bedrooms
on the first floor, and took our meals in the public
room, not very public, for the house is small. The
furniture poor; and all looked comfortless, after our
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CADIZ
luxurious quarters at Lisbon. Our beds were, how-
ever, more comfortable than those we occupied there
--not so hard ; the perfection of a Portuguese bed to
be harder than a stone. The table very good; and
the obligingness of the servants, and the courteous
and really valuable assistance of the young maître
d'hôtel about passports, &c. &c., far more than com-
pensated for any deficiencies in the household
arrangements. We had lost two full hours by that
foolish Espartero story, and consequently did not
reach the inn till six o'clock; and before we were
ready to take our evening walk upon the Alameda,
it was too dark for us to judge whether or not report
speaks truly of the beauty of the Gaditanas; it can-
not speak too highly of this walk, or rather of the
luxury of sitting under the green trees at nightfall,
catching the fresh breeze from the sea, and listening
to the music that it makes on the water at your feet
and among the leaves overhead, and this after a
day of hot glaring sunshine; and you may imagine ·
what a glare there is in the white, white sea-girt
city of Cadiz.
Finding there was no steamer for Seville (we
English do wage war on euphony almost as much as
the French) till Sunday, we engaged a guide, and off
we went immediately, sight-seeing. We first visited
the convent of St. Francisco, now converted into a
penitentiary and school. Saw the Garden of Palms,
and in the church two most interesting Murillos,
• The Conception' (the Virgin with a halo of stars,
and standing on the crescent moon), and his last work,
The Marriage of St. Catherine. When employed
upon this picture, he fell from the scaffolding, and
CADIZ
193
he died soon after, at Seville, from the injury received
by the fall.
The museum is a fine building; but it contains
no valuable pictures, and not one that touched me
in the least. We ascended the Torre de la Vigia,'
which gave us a striking view of city, sea, and land;
and another view quite novel to us, for hence we
looked down upon the inhabitants'' at their daily
labour' on 'the house-top,' some hanging out linen
to dry, others sitting on the roof busy with their
needles, others strenuously idling away their time
looking about them, as we were. All the houses at
Cadiz are built in this Moorish fashion, with flat
roofs, and all have their patio, courtyard, round
which the house is built, with a draw-well in the
centre. The city is without any springs of water;
and what is not brought from St. Mary's, on the
opposite side of the bay, is all rain water, and is
conducted by pipes from the roofs into the tank that
occupies the whole space of the patio, and is thence
drawn up by buckets from the stone well in the
centre. These tanks are most carefully covered in,
and lined with stone, which acts, according to the
guide's assurance, as a filtering machine, so that the
water is not bad, even to drink; “Very good,' he said,
but that cannot always be, though certainly the water
that he made me taste as it was brought up from a
well in an immerise convent-tank was excellent-
fresh and cool and spirited as spring-water.
We went into the Plaza de Toros—not merely into
it, but through it, examining every part. To describe
it, it suffices to say, a Roman amphitheatre. This
building is new, and is, I believe, considered a superior
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CADIZ
building of the kind. Called at the English Consul's :
his house, for a town-house, is one to tempt you to
break the tenth commandment. It has its cool
marble patio, and fountain for ever flowing, and
flowers, and orange-trees, and galleries open to the
patio, which would be open to the sky but for the
canvas cover drawn over the top, to keep out the sun.
The galleries on every storey are hung round with
pictures, and all sorts of curious curiosities ; they are
also adorned with the richest flowers, planted in ele-
gant vases or pretty fantastic boxes. It would be a
liberty to speak of the interior of the house, and
therefore I will keep silence even on those pictures
that still grace its walls.
Passed under the cathedral. Strange in its
architecture certainly, but the effect is good, that is,
in good keeping with the buildings over which it
presides. The doors were closed. One of our party
who visited it later in the day tells me there is
nothing remarkable within. Stepped into a house
where artisans were weaving the very pretty mats
with which most of the floors are covered in this
country. It is a simple process : cords are stretched
at certain distances on pieces of wood, raised about
three or four inches from the ground, the whole
length of the room. The weavers sit on the floor at
one end, threading, or rather darning, the reeds in
and out. This is done so quickly that, as you stand
watching, you are puzzled as to how it can be done.
When they have darned in a certain number of
reeds, they take a wooden instrument, made some-
thing like the head of a rake, each tooth fitting in
between each string of the warp, and with this they
CADIZ
195
give the reeds a strong pull towards them, which
makes the work close, and straight, and smooth.
Then on they go, weaving again, and pulling again,
till the mat is finished. There were half a dozen
men, 'all in a row,' employed upon the mat we saw
in progress. The esteras are woven of all sizes—to
cover the largest room, or merely to lay before the
smallest sofa. The small ones are in shape like
English hearthrugs, and have borders of red and
black, in Etruscan and other pretty patterns. The
large mats, too, have borders, and you can have them
woven to the exact shape of your room.
Next day we were up early. We had chocolate
brought to our rooms, and were on our way to the
steamer before half-past five. Beautiful morning,
but a strong cold wind from the north. People were
already astir. Some were sweeping the streets: the
sweeper has a donkey with panniers, or more properly
bags of matting, which bags are in form precisely
like the paper ones into which pounds of sugar are
put in a grocer's shop in England. The upper points
of these open pouches are fastened together, and laid
over the animal's back. We met many persons
bringing into town fruits and flowers and vegetables.
Fish, in great abundance, was already spread out in
the fish market. We again passed through the gate
of the sea,' and were presently seated in the small
boat that was to take us to the Rapido, and no
easy matter was it to get there, though our boat was
doubly helped on by oar and sail. The wind was
strong, and right ahead; and had not our active
innkeeper accompanied us, we should probably have
shared the fate of another load of passengers, who,
: 02
196
THE GUADALQUIVIR
though they started before us, were nevertheless left
behind. Cadiz looked fairer than ever, under the
light of the early morning sun, and the bay was
beautiful, with its many-flagged ships riding at anchor
on that lively sea : too lively for the comfort of
steamboat passengers ; and thankful were some of
us to enter the mouth of the river and get into still
water. We passed the village of Rota to our right.
At the mouth of the river, on the same side, a little
inland, stands St. Lucar. Low hills rise behind the
town; on the opposite side is a level plain, broken
only by far-stretching woods of pine.
We were now fairly on the river, and soon came to
another village (Bonanza), where we took in several
passengers, some of whom, as is now frequently done,
had made that long journey over the sandy isthmus,
and round the bay, to avoid the crossing from Cadiz to
the river, which is always more or less rough off the
Cipiona headland. This practice has quite changed
the character of the village; modern-built houses and
warehouses face the river, and convenient landing-
places fringe the water's edge. Two Spanish ladies,
one wearing a silk, the other a lace mantilla, both
graceful, were among those who here joined us.
The banks of the Guadalquivir are certainly not
grand, nor rich, nor even beautiful, in the common
acceptation of the term, as applied to scenery. But
it is unlike Mr. Ford's quick sensibility, to almost
everything that has its characteristic grace, to write
as he does of those vast plains, fringed with pine-
wood, and covered with herds and flocks innumerable,
and stretching away to those blue Ronda hills of
which the outline is so bold and varied. Then there
THE GUADALQUIVIR
197
is a character of self-possessed majesty in the river
itself, that vast body of water winding its way so
steadily and silently through these plains down to
the roaring ocean. Mark, too, all the animal life
that is feeding and sporting upon its banks—those
tiny birds that build their nests so trustingly within
the reach of its waters in time of storm and flood-
those of larger form (the bee birds), Aves rocos, that
sport about in the sunshine, as if wishing to display
their lovely green plumage to the voyager—those
innumerable hawks that are wheeling about over-
head, watching an opportunity to pounce upon their
prey. Higher up the river, orange groves and lemon
groves give you notice to look out for them by the
delicious perfumes they send to you over the water
before they become visible. In the thickets close to
you on the left, you hear the rapturous song of the
nightingale. The hill beyond those copses is en-
circled by a Moorish wall and crowned by a Moorish
castle, peculiarly interesting as the spot where the
Moors made their last stand, after they had lost
Seville. At last, the long-looked-for, longer-wished-
for, tower of the Giralda rises before you, and that
mighty cathedral, now full in front of you, now far
to the right, now as far to the left, for the river
becomes more and more serpentine as you near the
city.
The banks become populous, and gardens and
orange groves follow upon each other till they end in
the public walks of the city, Las Delicias, which are
crowded every evening with the old and young of all
ranks.
We landed near to the Golden Tower. Our
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SEVILLE
luggage, examined on the steps of the pier, was
turned out upon the bare stone, for the amusement,
I suppose, of the crowd that always congregates on
the public walk to witness the arrival of the steamer.
We were civilly treated; the officer barely peeped
into our carpet-bags; but some ladies complained to
us bitterly of the manner in which their smart caps
and collars had been hauled over on the dusty ground.
This 'rough-and-ready' fashion would not quite suit
our weeping skies in England.
The Cathedral was our first object. Into it Mr.
-- and I had not been able to resist taking a peep
as we passed from the steamer to the hotel, and then
I was awe-stricken by the solemn grandeur of the
building. Now that I have visited it again and
again, this feeling seems but to increase. Those
majestic pillars, as you look up to them, ending in
that glorious roof, truly appear as a work super-
human, seen by the dim religious light that pervades
the whole edifice. When you first enter, the gloom
is such that you can only discern the pillars and the
roof, which is lighted by the painted glass windows.
Altars, organs, pictures, dawn upon you by degrees.
You know they are there by the tapers you see burn-
ing, and by the solemn sounds you hear booming
through the building. The gorgeous colouring which
is cast so softly from the painted windows upon the
stonework of the roof is indescribably beautiful.'
We ascended the Giralda ; and how delightfully
strange was this ascent ! It is wide enough for three
persons to walk comfortably abreast; well-lighted,
each window a charming resting-place, whence you
SEVILLE
199
views of the When We the mid-
have views of the town below, and a grand expanse
of country beyond. When we reached the belfry the
‘ringers' were about striking the mid-day chimes :
we were much interested in watching the operation,
and in reading the names of the bells; so much so,
indeed, that one of our party began to compose a
song on the bells, in return for the music they made
for us—music it was not when we were thus close to
them: we were obliged to shut our ears, or we must
have lost the power of hearing; and we were glad,
after a little while, to continue our ascent, now up a
narrow winding staircase that takes you to the top of
the more modern portion of the tower, which, though
in itself handsome, would, I think, be better away.
It is too much like one of those elegantly made
ornaments that you see planted on the top of a.
• Twelfth Night cake'in Gunter's shop. The simply
grand square tower would be more dignified without
this addition, though it gives no less than a hundred
feet to its height. The day was most favourable, and
the view from the top repaid us for our steepish climb.
Not the least singular feature in this view was
the multitude of sparrow hawks, and hawks of a
much larger size, that were hovering about the tower,
or sailing close under our eyes, or sweeping along the
roofs of the cathedral, in chase of the thousands of
small birds that have their home in this vast build-
ing. The poor pigeons, too, that are sufficiently
daring to take a lofty flight and visit the cathedral
top, are a tempting prey to these beautiful birds,
which haunt the tower of the Giralda, as jackdaws
and stock-doves haunt a cathedral tower in England.
From the Cathedral we proceeded to the Alcazar,
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SEVILLE
or Moorish Palace; and when I entered the 'Hall of
the Ambassador,' and yet more when I looked down
from one of the balconied windows upon the garden,
I literally trembled in a sort of transport of delighted
surprise, and for an instant thought Aladdin must be
our guide, for here was one of those fair gardens that
I imagined could only be heard of in the Arabian
Nights.' But what pen could describe the witchery
of that glorious sun and deep blue sky, and of those
orange groves and cypress-trees, and rich flowers and
flowering shrubs, and marble fountains throwing
around them so beautifully their cool waters; and
the marble baths and grottoes, and cloister walks all
of fine marble; and the historical interest attached
to all this, with the thought that you are treading
the marble floors that the Moor and the Christian
trod so many centuries ago, and for the possession of
which they struggled so bravely. The preservation
of the stucco work is wonderful, mere plaster, as
fresh and perfect as the labour of yesterday; we had
an opportunity of comparing old with new. The
young queen is restoring this palace; it is her royal
property ; she is repainting it, keeping precisely to
the original colouring, and where the Moorish deco-
rations fail, supplying the deficiencies; and when
completed (will that ever be ?) it will indeed be a
right royal abode. The only colours employed are
greens, blues, and reds, and these colours are repeated
in the pantiles which line the walls all round to a
certain height, and frequently run up the corners of
the rooms to the ceiling. What is now mere bare
wall was probably hung with silk. It is astonishing
to look upon these tiles; the colours bright as if just
SEVILLE
201
out of the potter's hand; the patterns beautiful,
every one differing from its neighbour, and every
colour a distinct piece of tile. These pieces are,
necessarily very small, and yet not one has dropped,
or even stirred from its place, except such as have
been destroyed through love of destruction, or through
that wicked desire of relic possession, no matter at
what cost.
We visited the Contaduria, where are preserved
the Indian archives, that is, the archives of South
America, from the time of Columbus to the loss of
Columbia. These papers are arranged in glass cases
(book-cases with glass doors), and occupy both sides
of the three immense rooms that form the sides of
the large square; and in this figure all the houses
seem to be built, with open galleries looking into the
patio. The staircase leading up to these rooms is of
magnificent marble; all is marble-walls, pillars,
floor, steps, rails, and balustrades. The floor of the
rooms is black and white marble, alternating in
lozenge shape. Filling up the right angle between
each room or rather gallery--for the length of these
rooms vastly exceeds their width-is some elaborate
pattern that would make the fingers of many of my
carpet-work-loving friends in England tingle with
the desire to copy.
To the Caridad, rich in pictures by Murillo.
Here is an exquisite Infant Saviour,' and a still
more exquisite · St. John'-the one where he is
hugging the lamb. This picture disposed me to
break the tenth commandment more than the famous
picture of Moses Striking the Rock,' or the San
Juan de Dios,' or the Miracle of the Loaves and
CU
202
SEVILLE
Fishes.' If I might presume to criticise a painting
that the world ranks so high, I should say that the
rock in the · Moses' was too insignificant a feature
in the composition. There is a fine figure on horse-
back in the foreground, more conspicuous than the
rock or Moses himself. These treasures are in the
chapel of the Caridad,' a hospital for poor men.
The patio is very handsome. The chapel fills the
north side of the patio : the great western door of
this chapel opens upon the square of the Caridad,
which is outside the city walls. Public walks, shaded
by trees, occupy the space between this Plaza and
the Guadalquivir. .
To the Merced, now the Museo. Standing in the
cloisters near to the entrance is that curiously
wrought and much-celebrated iron cross, by Sebastian
Conde, which formerly stood in the Cerrageria.
There is a good deal of ancient sculpture, brought
from Italica, arranged in these cloisters, but nothing,
I believe, considered first-rate. The museum con-
tains galleries on galleries of pictures; but as there
was no catalogue, I kept to the Murillos; and the
one of all these that riveted my attention, and drew
me back again and again, was the one which I
found the painter called his own picture '-San
Tomas de Villa Nueva. The benign expression of
St. Thomas-the breathing beggars—the cripple, that
you seem to see crawling to receive the piece of
money which is held out towards his uplifted hand
-the beaming countenance of the little child, who
is telling her mother what she has just received—the
mother is in deep shadow; so is the child, except
the profile of her sweet face and the top of her head,
SEVILLE
203
which catch a portion of the strong light that
comes in from behind, streaming upon the head and
upper part of the bishop's figure-truly a light from
Heaven !
St. Thomas's Dream, of our Saviour's coming
down to him from the cross, is a wonderful picture;
the San Leandro and San Buenaventuro are very fine.
These are all in the Murillo Gallery. Amongst
those in the gallery on the ground floor, 'La Concep-
cion’ is the gem—the little angel to the right, angelic
indeed. The Child in the · Virgin and Child’-the
one called 'La Servilleta '-is really alive; one sees
it'struggling to get out of its mother's arms.'
You need only walk through one street in Seville
to be convinced, if it were necessary, of the truth of
Murillo's pencil; for there you are sure to meet
figures that must have stepped down from some one
of his canvases. I have seen his 'sweet St. John'
more than once, and his beggars again and again;
alas! not his monks, for their occupation's gone.'
His Marys do not satisfy me: they are perfect
women,' and often faultless in featured beauty, but
nothing more. They are Marys such as Protestants
might paint; but a Catholic, more especially a native
of Seville—where they hold that the Virgin was born
free from any taint of original sin-ought to make
her more spiritual: but Raphael only can effect this.
I am putting things down just as they come into my
head, which is too full of poetical impressions and
dreamy realisations of cherished day-dreams to allow
me to record in what order of time and place such
visions were presented to me.
A vision of visions was the lovely child who danced
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SEVILLE
to us last night her own national Spanish dances, and
after those the dance of the Gipsies. She was dressed
in costume, red satin-peaked bodice, fitting tight to
the shape, short tight sleeves, short and very full white
muslin petticoat, trimmed with alternate rows of red
and blue ribbon ; white stockings and shoes; no
gloves ; bracelets and necklaces, and flowers and
pearls decking the head; a wreath round the back-
hair, which is dressed very low, quite in the neck; a
white lily pinned just above the left ear, and resting
upon the jet-black hair of the front braid. Then the
large and soft dark eyes, the long and elegantly formed
face, the rich Murillo colouring, and the sweet gracious
smile, and the natural trusting—not shy, not forward
-manner with which she pressed upon me some
dulces of which she herself was eating, and the child-
like clapping of the hands, when, after some persua-
sion, she prevailed upon me to taste her sweetmeats ;
all this seemed to me at the time as a waking dream
over a Murillo picture. And the dream was prolonged,
not disturbed, as I followed her graceful swimming
motions in the dance, in the slow parts of which there
is more movement of the body and arms than of the
feet, though in some of its changes there is a long
succession of springs from the ground into the air,
high as possible, with what in the North of England
is called a double cut,' but effected with an easy
grace, 'too far south 'for our attainment.
Our little beauty was in training for the stage,
and the thought of her being destined to that wretched
life cast a sadness over the interest with which we
gazed upon her innocent face. One of the girls who
danced for us is already a dancer at the opera, and
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205
considered an excellent performer; but the younger
and more childlike the dancer, the prettier the dance.
One youth only was in costume-by costume I mean
the holiday dress of Andalusia. He wore a short blue
jacket, braided almost all over with silver lace; white
knee breeches, with small silver buttons placed close
together up the outer seams, white stockings and
black shoes, cut very low and square ; the girl's shoes
were of the same shape; and how they managed to
spring as they did off that hard tiled floor, and not
hurt their feet, I cannot imagine. The dresses of all
the girls were in character, the same as the dress I
have described, varying only in colour, and with more
or less ornament of ribbon, flowers, and trinkets ; for
all wore necklaces and bracelets. The two youngest
boy-dancers were dressed precisely as boys of ten or
twelve are in England. One of the elder youths, the
most accomplished dancer, wore neither jacket nor
waistcoat, but danced away merrily in his shirt sleeves
with his gaily dressed partner. This carried me back
to the days of my youth, when at a' fancy ball' in
the North of England some of the young men, by
way of obeying the order to appear in fancy dresses,'
threw off their coats, tied a coloured cravat round
their waists, stuck their large straw boating-hats
carelessly on one side of their heads, and thus pre-
sented themselves in the ball-room, to the no small
astonishment, and probably disgust, of the stewards
and lady patroness.
Our guide informed us that the dancers on these
occasions expected some little offering from the gen-
tlemen of the party; and the way it is managed is
this. The Gipsy Handkerchief Dance' is danced,
206
SEVILLE
and during its progress the lady drops her handker-
chief at the feet of any gentleman she may pleasė to
select; he picks it up, ties a piece of money in one
corner, and restores the handkerchief to the young
lady as he leaves the room.
How came English writers on Madrid to say
that Spanish ladies have no love for flowers ? The
assertion may be true as regards Madrid, though I
do not know that it is true there ; but it is most
erroneous as regards the southern and eastern mari-
time provinces. Every patio and every balcony falsify
the assertion, and every girl that you meet wears a
natural rose or some other sweet flower fixed in her
jet-black hair; and many, not content with the single
flower on the temple, wreath the plait behind with
flowers, or weave them with it. Children, soon as
they have hair to deck, prick it with flowers,' and
grey hairs, too, do you see thus adorned ; and not
one of the 4,000 girls, who work in one long room
at the Government tobacco factory, is without a
flower.
At this factory we saw also numbers of men and
mules at work both on snuff and cigars. The girls
are pale, and the men look sickly; we observed, how-
ever, many old men among them; and on our in-
quiring of one of the superintendents, who accom-
panied us round the building, if the occupation were
injurious to health, he replied : 'Quite the contrary,'
and gave as a proof the many old men whom we
must have observed, and who had passed their lives
from childhood in the establishment. He added,
they had never fever among them, and that during
the cholera which raged in Seville they had not a
"
SEVILLE
207
case. The workmen are rather long-lived than other-
wise. For a description of this extensive fabric, and
of all others in this city, vide Ford, for he describes
most accurately everything. He tells us the city
contains 60,000 marble pillars, most, if not all, of
which are Moorish ; Well, then, may Seville be called
the 'Marble City.' You see them forming the colon-
nades round the patios, which generally, too, are
flagged with marble ; and during the season of heat
these patios are converted into the living rooms.
Furniture, pictures, ornaments, all are brought down,
and the rooms on the ground floor are turned into
bedrooms, the upper floor being quite deserted. The
houses generally are only two storeys high ; they are
so built for coolness, and coolness must, indeed, be
the first object to aim at here, for we, before April is
out, find it impossible to walk in the middle of the
day, and the thermometer is now at least eighteen
degrees lower than it often stands here in the autumn.
But such weather! I thought nothing could surpass
the beauty and clearness of the deep bright blue of
an Oporto sky, but then I had not looked upwards,
standing at the base of the Giralda Tower at Seville.
To English taste and feelings these patios, so very
pretty to look into, are dull to live in, as I found even
in one day, when slight indisposition kept me to the
house. To be shut up within four walls, be they of
the purest and whitest marble, soon becomes oppres-
sive to the spirits; and I fairly longed to knock down
some of those Moorish pillars that I might get at
the view beyond, were it but into the narrow street.
I had two most pleasant early-morning strolls
whilst in Seville—one to the market, the other to the
208
SEVILLE
Cathedral. The market is very large and handsome,
quite a little town, the different streets and squares
of which are appropriated to different dealers, with
the money-changers sitting in the corners of the
streets. It seemed to me that every possible want
that a cook could have, whether of instrument or
vessel to cook with, or thing to be cooked, might here
be supplied, were the repast required for a palace or
a cottage. The fruit and vegetable stalls were most
inviting, and the flowers beautiful; and a pretty sight
it was to see the women and children returning from
market with the flowers that each had purchased
already fastened in the hair. Many of the girls were
on their way to the cigar manufactory; they are at
once known by the black silk mantilla bound with
velvet, and by the one flower on the left temple-in
their case an affecting badge, from the contrast of the
freshness and sweetness of the flower with the op-
pressed and oppressive air of that immense apartment
in which they toil from morning till night.
It is the custom at Seville for the gentleman of a
family to attend the market himself; and whilst in
Portugal the poorest shop-boy would not be seen
carrying the smallest parcel, here the first of the
nobleza of Spain will come with his basket under his
cloak, make his own ‘marketing,' and actually carry
home the laden basket. When on this errand they
wear the Andalusian hat with the cloak; this hat
has a low flat crown, a widish brim turned up all
round, and is bound with velvet, and decorated with
one or two small tufts on each side of the top of the
crown. Another marked distinction between the
Spanish and Portuguese is, that in Spain you seldom
SEVILLE
209
see women carrying burthens, while in Portugal the
women and the Gallegos do all the burdensome work.
At this market in Seville, I observed few women at-
tending at the stalls; in Portugal the men would have
been yet more rare. Then, again, the Spanish women
walk a great deal, both in the early morning and late
evening. A Portuguese lady would seldom or never
dream of taking a walk for walking's sake, except
at the seaside or at the Caldas; she walks to mass,
to the opera, but nowhere else. Spanish ladies may
walk, and do walk, alone, without the smallest fear
of meeting with any annoyance. A Portuguese lady
would be considered crazy were she seen alone in the
streets. My stroll in the Cathedral was a solitary one.
Matins were going on at four several altars, and also
in the great church, which is at right-angles with the
Cathedral, and, I suppose, is considered a part of it.
And what a charm it was to walk amid the sump-
tuous aisles,' or
• Thread those intricate defiles,
Or down the nave to pace in motion slow,
Watching, with upward eye, the tall tower grow
And mount, at every step, with living wiles,
Instinct-to rouse the heart and lead the will
By a bright ladder to the world above.'
In this Cathedral there is no 'tall tower,' but here
the pillars lead the will' heavenwards; and how
fine is the branching roof,' scooped
Into ten thousand cells
Where light and shade repose, where music dwells,
Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die,
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality ;'
210
SEVILLE
And where
the stone-work glimmers dyed
In the soft chequerings of a sleepy light;
And where
• The music bursteth into second life.
The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed
By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife;
Heart-thrilling strains, that cast before the eye
Of the devout a veil of ecstasy.'
The roof of the choir is exquisitely wrought, but
the choir itself is sadly cut up by the three partitions
which, though full of beauty in themselves, destroy
the general effect. Many of the side chapels are
richly ornamented, and abound in pictures, but for
these there is not light enough admitted through the
stained windows to allow of their being seen at all
satisfactorily. Even of Murillo's famous picture,
St. Francis,' I brought away but a very imperfect
idea. Finding I could make very little out of these
lifeless pictures, I turned to the tableaux vivants that
were to be met with at every turn, single figures
standing or kneeling or prostrate before some favour-
ite saint. Most affecting were some of the attitudes,
and the expression always that of deep piety-no
acting here, I am quite sure : the heart was truly in
earnest; no external object could divert it from the
holy one on which it was engaged. The men were
as numerous as the women. I am speaking of those
who were at private prayer. I feared to approach
near to the altars where the priests were performing
mass, lest, through ignorance, I might wound their
feelings, for they are very sensitive on all things con-
SEVILLE
211
nected with the observances of their Church, pro-
bably more so than ever since the total destruction
of so many of their rich convents and churches, and
the impoverishing of all. You meet a few priests
walking about the streets of Seville in their long
black gowns and curiously-formed hats, like a long
black roll placed lengthways on the head: we were
always greeted courteously by them as we passed.
From the divine to the devilish; for nothing
less is it to leave that sublime and holy Cathedral and
enter the Plaza de Toros.
Thankful was I when four o'clock struck and we
were summoned to rise and prepare for our departure
by the steamer which was to start for Cadiz at half-
past five. As we hastened through the quiet streets,
and passed under the noble Cathedral, and along the
charming avenues and gardens by the banks of the
Guadalquivir, I sincerely grieved that we could not
linger here, especially as the odds were against our
reaching Cadiz in time for the Pacha, the quickest
steamship on the line. The Duke and Duchess of
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha and their suite were fellow-
passengers with us to Cadiz, and fellow-hopers for the
Pacha. They kept us waiting full half an hour, for
which we felt greatly indebted to them, as the delay
gave us an opportunity for accurately observing the
• Golden Tower' (near to which our steamer was
anchored), the river, the shipping, the bridge of boats,
the town on the other bank of the Guadalquivir, and
the rising ground in the distance, near to which
stands the village of · Santi Ponce,' where once stood
the ancient Italica. Those ruins, to our regret, we
P ?
212
THE GUADALQUIVIR
were obliged to leave as a 'Yarrow unvisited ;' as
we did many other places and things of deep interest
in and near to Seville, partly because for a day or
two of our necessarily brief stay we were robbed of
our admirable guide, Mr. Willinski, by the mayor,
who required him for the Duke in the absence of
Baillie.
On this morning the sky was grey and threaten-
ing, and a heavy shower presently sent us all down
into the cabin. The heavens soon cleared, the sun
burst forth, and all was cheerful ; the bright morning
light fell upon the lofty Giralda, whilst a softening
haze hung about the body of the Cathedral, and the
building looked more grandly beautiful than ever ;
the orange groves seemed to send out a sweeter per-
fume, and the nightingale's song was more rapturous
than heretofore, for so it appeared to us who were
leaving them; and there were the wheeling kites,
the hawks, the bee-birds sparkling and croaking on
the water's edge, herds of cattle, flocks of goats and
sheep, and countless troops of horses, reminding one
of the plains of South America, covering the vast
plain between us and the Ronda mountains and the
Sierra Morena and other hills that have a name : all
this gave poetry and life to the banks of the Guadal-
quivir. On we went, happily and merrily, hoping
and fearing for the Pacha, till we got to Bonanza,
where we passed the steamer from Cadiz. We
hailed her, and received the pleasant information
that the said Pacha had arrived the day before
and sailed for Gibraltar the same evening. Paciencia !
there was nothing else for it. We were no sooner
anchored in the Bay of Cadiz than Senhor Ximenes
PET LAMBS
213
appeared on deck, and took us, with other passengers,
to his inn. We found our old rooms ready for us,
and here we must patiently await the next steamer,
Saturday.
A most bright day; too hot a sun to face in
shadeless Cadiz. But we were glad of an excuse for
rest to body and mind after the excitement of Seville;
and a quiet, happy day I passed, sitting at my win-
dow watching the pretty tiny boats as they skimmed
like so many nautiluses over the green sea; and the
boys flying their kites, of which I counted as many
as fourteen up in the air at once; and the children
leading about their paschal lambs. At Seville, too,
we saw numbers of such pet lambs, and Mr. Willin-
ski told us the history of them. At Easter there is
a great fair of lambs, when every family that can by
hook or by crook raise the money purchases a lamb,
which is called The Paschal Lamb,' and which is
kept a longer or a shorter time, according to the cir-
cumstances of the family. The very poor are obliged
to kill it at once : the wealthier keep it so long as it
is gentle enough to be a safe plaything for their little
ones. The children deck them with gay ribbons,
and put them into harness, and drive them about
with a long whip, and the little creatures seem quite
to understand what they are to do, and enjoy their
sport as much as their drivers. One child has a
pair of baby panniers, such as I have described
before, fastened on the back of his lamb; another
little fellow has turned his into a baggage-mule,
rolled up his cloak, and tied it upon the lamb, which
he drives before him with his muleteer's whip.
214
CADIZ
Here at Cadiz almost all these paschal lambs' are
black; at Seville they were generally white.
The mules, both here and at Seville, are magni-
ficent creatures : truly they do not belie the character
the mules of Andalusia have gained for themselves
the wide world over.
Sunday: April 26.
This is a soft, cloudy, gleamy day, with scarcely
a ripple on the water, so that one wonders how those
little fishing-boats glide to and fro, with their one
white sail, as they are for ever gliding; and that
stately vessel, where finds she the breeze to fill
her many white sails? The hue of the bay is mar-
vellously varied; it is of every shade of green and
blue and slate-colour and sand-colour, each exqui-
sitely blending with and dying away into the other.
Light and shade are playing gently with each object
on the opposite coast, now bringing it close to us,
now whisking it miles away, and sometimes quite
out of sight. At one moment St. Mary's seems so
near that we might almost step across the water and
walk upon the pier; the next, the town is a dimly-
seen object; the next, gone entirely; and so it is.
with every other part of the coast.
As the tide came in the rampart-wall before our
inn was thickly set with men and boys, with their
long rods, fishing for red mullet. Well-behaved
anglers they were ; sitting as they did close together,
their rods and lines must often have interfered one
with the other, and yet I heard not an angry word,
nor even a raised voice, during the many hours they
remained there.
su
"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT ?'
215
Much heavy rain fell in the night, and Monday.
morning was a dull one for Cadiz; anywhere else
rain would have continued to fall. Having so much
spare time, it was tantalizing enough not to be
allowed to take out a sketch-book ; but there were
too many sentinels about for me to venture on this
prohibited gratification. Mr. —- was only gazing
towards the Trocadero, when a soldier with his
bayonet came up, looking black as thunder and
yellow as oil, with · What are you looking at?' He
answered, · El Trocadero,' and the blunt reply made
the soldier look daggers, though there was no fear
of his using the sharp argument that was fixed on
his firelock.
Steamer arrived, but does not sail again till
Wednesday. Paciencia !
Tuesday: April 28.
Another gloomy morning this, with high wind
from the west. We had planned to go across to St.
Mary's, but gave it up, fearing the boatmen might
refuse to bring us back again, were the wind to
increase. We therefore hired borricos and a boy,
and went to see the English burial-ground, for the
formation of which Mr. Brackenbury, the father of
the present consul, at last, and after great difficulty,
succeeded in wringing permission from the Spanish
Government. We went through the town, and out
of that gate of the city which leads to the dreary
slip of sand that unites Cadiz to the mainland, and
whence there is a fine view of the city, sea, and
lighthouse, which I longed to sketch but durst not.
After about half an hour's walk on an excellent
216
CADIZ
broad road that is carried over this treeless waste,
we came to a dreary looking village, with rather a
handsome church, opposite to which, and nearer to
the sea, is the Spanish cemetery. Here we took to
a sandy lane to our left, that presently brought us to
the English cemetery, a most gloomy-looking place,
in spite of gay flowers that flourish even luxuriantly
in that waste of sand. By-and-bye, when the
cypresses and other trees that are planted get up, it
may be less cheerless, or its gloom may acquire a
more soothing character—may convey to the mourner
or to the casual muser more of the sentiment that
it is God's Acre; a name given by our Saxon fore-
fathers to the ground set apart for the last earthly
homes of the Dead that shall rise again;' but as
it is, I had rather think of a beloved friend at rest
beneath the restless ocean, than in this dreary spot
of earth. The monuments, as yet, are few, not
more I think than half a dozen. The first before
which we happened to pause bore a name familiar
to our ears, that of -- We had not remembered
that he died at Cadiz, so the meeting this name
brought a shock of sadness to my heart, and I could
not help wishing that chance had given him a grave
in that solemn yet lovely burial-ground at Lisbon,
or that beautiful one at Oporto; but his lot in life
was one of such peculiar melancholy, that maybe a
spot like this was more congenial to the broken
spirit, of which the broken column that stands by
the head-stone is a meet emblem. A young cypress
grows near to the column, and the grave is almost
lost among geraniums, especially the scarlet, which
were in full flower.
CADIZ
217
This grave-yard is merely a piece of the sandy
plain marked off by a hedge of aloes, and planted
with shrubs and flowers, and intersected by walks
in every direction. The only shrub that appears to
thrive is one resembling our broom, though taller
and more straggling, and this being out of flower
had a most dismal effect. The walks are dismal,
too-soft sea-sand, into which you sink ankle-deep
at every step. Quitting this uncouth garden of the
dead, we turned to the left, when a few yards
brought us to the beach of the inland bay, where
many vessels were riding quietly at anchor, whilst
just over the narrow slip of land the sea was running
mast-high.
Had all our party been on foot, we might have
returned to Cadiz along a pleasant public walk; but
as some of us were donkey-riders, we were obliged
to go back as we came, along the bleak high road.
I was not a little amused by two kite-flying com-
panions, young men of eighteen or twenty, who were
as much delighted with their paper comets as children
eight years old; but, to be sure, their. cometas were
of a size that required a strong wind to lift; and
then a strong hand to hold. The youths kept with
us all the way; we entered into conversation with
them. They offered R-- and me the use of their
playthings; we of course accepted the offer, but
quickly resigned them, for though we were on the
Via Heraclea, we did not find ourselves qualified for
the Herculean task of struggling with these unruly
kites. As for me, I might as well have attempted
to rein in a horse that was running away with me,
a trick that the kite actually served me; and the
ر ر . دو
rooch
cor
mcrc
ücrct
218
GIBRALTAR
owner of it was much entertained by my calling it
his wild horse. He echoed the words again and
again, allowing himself at the same time to be run
away with by his kite, as I had been.
Gibraltar : April 29.
A Spanish steamer, the Villa de Madrid, one of
the steadiest and cleanest steamers I was ever on
board, brought us hither. The sun had set before
We weighed anchor, so we saw little after leaving the
bay of Cadiz except the clear crescent moon, and the
bright stars in the heavens, and the fiery ones that
flew from our chimney, and which, as they dropped
into the water, looked like falling meteors. We
were in our berths as we passed Trafalgar, and un-
luckily, too, we missed the passage of the Straits.
The morning star called me out of my berth full an
hour before sunrise, as she shone more brilliantly
than I ever saw her shine, over that bold rock of
Calpe, which, seen from the bay immediately opposite
the town, takes something of the shape of a cowering
lion. It is well to see this rock, and the lovely bay
of which it is so remarkable a feature, under the
various lights it was my good fortune to look upon
it this morning-by starlight, by the first faint
dawn, and then as the increasing light gradually
brought out the details. The town gains nothing by
the full sunshine; a more uninviting residence, looked
at from the sea, was never beheld. As soon as the
port was open boats came out, and we were presently
landed on the pier. Officers very civil; no trouble
with passports. A step brought us into the heart of
the interest and popularity of Gibraltar—the market,
GIBRALTAR
219
which is held outside the city gate, and here we saw
Christian, Moor, Turk, Jew, each striving hard to
cheat the other: the Moor certainly was the most
gentlemanly-looking figure in this motley company.
We made our way to an English lodging-house,
to which we had been strongly recommended. Un-
luckily it was full, nor could we be taken in at the
Club House Hotel ; ' for the Duke of Saxe-Coburg
and his suite, though not yet arrived, were hourly
expected, and had secured all the vacant rooms.
Mr. —— asked for breakfast at all events. "Cer-
tainly,' answered an obliging waiter, who, though
not an Englishman, spoke very good English, and in
due time—for it was not then seven o'clock and the
household was hardly astir—a most sumptuous
breakfast was put before us. Excellent tea and
coffee, red mullet, devilled chicken, mutton chops,
eggs, and capital bread of every possible sort-French,
English, Spanish. Whilst this feast was preparing,
we secured rooms in a second-rate inn on the right
of this square. After breakfast our gentlemen went
to the post-office, and brought us back pleasant
letters from our own dear homes, and then secured
for the day a charming open carriage, which took us
first to Europa Point. The day seemed made for
us; bright sun-fresh breeze-deep blue sky, with
a pomp of silvery fleecy clouds hanging over the
mountains, and resting upon the higher points, and
casting their soft shadows over the lower ground.
The coast of Africa was brought so near to us, that
we could see distinctly the houses at Tangiers. The
form of Mount Abyla is very beautiful: and how the
clouds do love to rest upon its peaks! From Europa
220
GIBRALTAR
Point we drove back by the lower road. The views
across the bay, looking to Algeciras and San Roque,
reminded me so much of the tamer part of Winder-
mere, that I could have dreamed I were on its banks,
but for the aloes and cactuses and other strange and
curious plants about us, which told of another land.
We changed horses as we passed through the town,
and then drove on to the eastern bank, immediately
under the rock which sends forth thunder. Owing
to some works that are going on here, the carriage
was prevented from proceeding so far as to give us a
peep into Catalan Bay. Mr. —- climbed up the
hill far enough to enable him to look down into the
bay and on the little village that nestles under the
overhanging rock, and there he saw a pretty picture
of a goat with her kid, couched on the end of a crag,
which nothing but a goat would have chosen for a
resting-place. The goats here are larger and hand-
somer than any I ever saw. They are brought into
the town to be milked.
While we were waiting in the carriage I took
up my sketch-book, and for something to do began
copying an outline of a bit of the rock near to us,
when to my amusement up came a red-coat, with his
Pray, ma'am, have you a permit from the Governor
to sketch ?' This question in English sounded
most strange. In Spanish I had thought it tyranni-
cal enough ; in my mother-tongue it seemed to me
ludicrous, and I fairly laughed in the poor man's
face as I answered “No,' shutting my book most
meekly, and declaring that I would on no account
have taken out my pencil had I known it was con-
trary to order. The sentinel was courteous as possible,
SAN ROQUE
221
and thought it necessary to apologise for doing his
duty. From this quarter we crossed the neutral
ground-neutral, indeed, for it looks more barren and
useless, and much less interesting than the bare sand.
There is a good road across it, but that ends almost
before you reach the first Spanish sentinel; and
over the rest of this low barren isthmus, which unites
the rock with the mainland, you have to travel with
one wheel actually in the waters of the Mediterranean,
and the other among the sea-weeds they have cast
up. You come, however, to a very good road when
you have passed the sandy waste and a lowly fishing -
village—one of its lowliest cottages would have
made a characteristic sketch, with its sheltering
palm-tree and little garden hedged with aloe and
cactus; these plants here grow to an immense
height, and are the common fence, indeed the
only fence I have observed. On we went over
undulating ground, well, but not neatly cultivated,
regularly ascending till we reached San Roque.
Whilst the horses were eating their bread, steeped
in wine, we loitered on the Alameda, eating bread
and oranges, and feasting our eyes on the glorious
views before us—the Bay of Gibraltar, the rock and
the mountains of Granada to the left; in front the
Mediterranean, bounded by the hills of Africa, of
which, from this point, Mount Abyla is the highest,
and to-day it wore a lovely diadem of silvery cloud;
to our right the Ronda hills—the distant ones of a
fine deep blue, the nearer, a playground for cloud and
sunshine. The drive from San Roque is almost
more beautiful than that on our outward course; for
we had the Rock ever before us, and there the mists
222
GIBRALTAR
were hanging as on the rocks of Africa, and as if
with a wish to unite them again.
Our road across the sandy waste and neutral
ground was enlivened by strange contrasts. Young
ladies cantering away on highly-groomed palfreys,
wearing long riding-habits and black hats, that would
have looked the thing in Hyde Park or the
Bois de Boulogne, and escorted by cavaliers as
fashionably attired; dark-eyed peasant lasses, with
the simple kerchief tied over their jet-black hair,
seated on a rude sort of pillion behind their cavalier,
and holding on by a handkerchief put crupper-wise
under the tail of the horse; open carriages, that
might have just rolled out of Bond Street, filled with
fair matrons and blue-eyed flaxen-haired children;
smugglers wrapped in their handsome mantos (scarfs),
making towards the Ronda mountains, on horses
that looked as strong and sturdy as the men they
carried; the English officer; the Spanish private ;
and then, as we got within the gates, the Turk, the
Moor, the Jew, the Greek-in fact, almost every
nation under the sun; and this it is that makes
Gibraltar so amusing and instructive a place.
May 1.
May-day, but not a poet's May-morning. The
heavens are overcast. We had the pleasures of
cloudland yesterday, and to-day, I suppose, we must
have the pain. Donkeys at the door by eleven, to
take us up to the Flagstaff. We were fortunate
enough to procure, without any difficulty, an order
to see the excavations. So we ascended the hill
towards the west, and at the first gateway were met
GIBRALTAR
223
by a sergeant of artillery, who conducted us thither.
We passed under the Moorish fort, built in 725.
This castle bears the marks of many a cannon-ball.
Beautiful views to the south and west, seen through
and framed in by grand rocks and stones that have
been pierced to form the road up to the excavations,
which are wonderful ; but I do not presume to
appreciate their merits as military works. I could
understand the skill, and power, and industry that
had formed them, and feel the marvellous grandeur
of the Rock itself, and the beauty of the views that
were lying before me as I looked out upon them from
the gun-holes. “St. Georges Hall,' which will con-
tain seven or eight pieces of ordnance, is quite a
handsome apartment, with its one arch in the centre,
springing from lateral pillars, all cut in the solid rock.
Those emblems of peace, almost always to be met
with by visitors to these homes of cannon, are what
touched me most-I mean the wild pigeons that
haunt the chambers and galleries, not merely for
shelter, but for water, which is always to be found
there in large tubs. It is used for steeping the tow,
or whatever it is with which the cannons are cleaned.
We ladies were allowed to ride all through the lower
line of excavations. The upper and newer tier is not
sufficiently lofty to admit of a person on donkey-back :
so here we, too, took to our feet, and the asses and
drivers met us at the upper entrance, and there we
parted with our sergeant. We then proceeded up to
the summit, in spite of the rain that had begun to
fall while we were underground, and which continued
falling till we gained the Flagstaff. Here it kindly
ceased, and though the clouds did not clear away to
224
GIBRALTAR
our hearts' content, they did allow us to see the two
seas and the Ronda mountains very finely, and Tan-
giers and Mount Abyla ; but they hung sullenly over
Mount Atlas, barely allowing us to look upon his
feet, and entirely concealing from us the African
coast to the further east.
The Rock itself is indeed very grand, grander even
to look down upon than up to. We had the little
bay and little town of Catalan right under us. We
descended the hill by the Jews' burial ground. Oh,
what a wild spot is this! Fancy a portion of Nab
Scar, just under the screes, on the mountain road to
Grasmere, covered with flat grave stones placed close
together, of all sizes, one lying this way, another
that, and another that; and you see this burial
ground of the Jews, only you must fancy a place
where no tree grows, and where hardly a blade of
grass springs.
The barrenness of the place is the more remark-
able, as you have left behind you mountain plants in
abundance, and are just coming upon the one only
finely wooded spot on the Rock, the Admiral's pleasure
grounds, and below that the Alameda. The moun-
tain plants are beautiful, one with a yellow flower
something like our furze, and another quite peculiar
to a hot climate, and which I, in my ignorance of
its proper appellation, named the fan plant, from the
fan-like form in which the long, narrow pointed
blade-like leaves grew from the stem. Many of these
fans spring from one stem, and many stems from
one root. And what happy denizens of the Rock
are the goats, half lost among these shrubs, or
perched upon a bold bare rock; and the pretty little
PASSENGER MISSING
225
kids, how they did frolic along the steep hillside !
The monkeys were gone off to the east to shelter
themselves from the west wind. The Alameda is
one of the loveliest I have seen; the design has been
admirably adapted to the ground : there are level
walks, and ascents and descents, and pretty slopes
and hollows, and retiring nooks, and all laid out in
right good taste, with one notable exception, a
hideous statue, which one would gladly consign to
the hammer of the stone breakers on the high road
below. The flower plants and shrubs give out their
blossoms as they only can in a southern climate in
spring. The aloe and cactus appear before you
come to this wooded spot, but not till after you have
left the burial ground of the Jews. The parade
occupies the lowest part of the Alameda. We ob-
served a noble chestnut tree among the trees that
form a long line of grateful shade to the walk that
runs at the lower end of the parade.
Back to our inn, when Mr. had to hurry off
after his fatiguing walk, to answer a summons from
the captain of the steamer, a summons sent to all
the passengers, in consequence of the disappearance
of a Spanish gentleman, one of the richest merchants
of Cadiz, who came on board the steamer at Cadiz,
and was not missed till the passengers were counted
over as they were about to land. He was in the
cabin at eight o'clock the evening before ; he was very
sick, and was seen to go on deck, but no one can
remember to have observed him after that, and it is
supposed he must have fallen overboard. His lug-
gage was found all right. He was going to visit a
226
GIBRALTAR
daughter, who lives at Gibraltar. What a turning
of sweet to bitter for her, poor thing!
The circumstance was not mentioned to any of
the passengers at the time, and we knew nothing of
this fearful accident till next day, when we were
summoned to remove our luggage from the steamer,
which had been forbidden by the authorities to leave
the port, in consequence of this disastrous event.
After further inquiry, however, the prohibition was
removed, and we received notice to be on deck before
sunset.
We left Gibraltar well satisfied with the disposal of
our time during the too few hours we had passed in
this most remarkable place, and deeply impressed with
the beauty of the Rock, the bay, and the distant moun-
tain scenery. The town, indeed, is ugliness itself; but
when you get away from it, and in among the rocks
and shrubs and flowers, and into sight of the sea,
with its distant girdle of blue, blue hills, then indeed
your heart tells you that you are in a land of poetry
and beauty, such as can only be found perhaps on the
shores of the Mediterranean.
We did not weigh anchor till long after the sunset
gun was fired from the Flagstaff. The delay was
mortifying to us, who wished to see the south-east
side of the Rock as we passed under it. The town
looked less inviting than ever this evening, and the
Rock, from the point where we were lying at anchor,
a lumbering lump dropped from the clouds. The
western side of the bay and the African coast ap-
peared as if bewitched under the evening light; the
sinking sun fell upon the rocky front of Mount Abyla,
and brought out distinctly every bold feature of that
MALAGA
227
grandly-formed mountain. The night was perfect-a
clear, bright, crescent moon, and brilliant stars; but,
alas, what a disappointment! I had flattered myself
that when the smooth waters of the inland sea were
reached I should enjoy myself as much as any sailor
off watch, who spins long yarns ; instead of which, I
suffered more from those odious little rocking, tossing
waves of the Mediterranean, than from the grand
swell of the waters of the Bay of Biscay.
We were at anchor in the Bay of Malaga long
before sunrise, and I was again on deck, to witness
the gradual dawn on earth and sky. The town stands
so nobly, with its fine mountain back-ground, that
the appearance is impressive, in spite of its strange-
looking Cathedral, of a nondescript' style of archi-
tecture, and its custom house, an immense square
heavy building. Then the old Moorish walls, that
zigzag up the hill to the castle, which crowns it,
give an interest to the place, that possibly without
such associations might be wanting. The lower hills
are clothed with vines to their very summits, and at
their feet almost any tropical plant will thrive. The
palm trees are finer than any I have seen elsewhere.
The cactus is quite the weed of the country.
Breakfast over, and business matters with consuls
and bankers settled, we went to the Cathedral, but
found it closed ; we, however, ascended the tower-
a splendid view of the bay, the sea, the pier, and the
town, which is much larger than it appears when
approached from the sea. There is no very fine
building; the most conspicuous after the Cathedral
itself is the detestable Plaza de Toros. Mountains
rising above mountains, and of forms fine and varied.
Q 2
228
ENGLISH BURIAL GROUND
The nearer heights, which may be spoken of as hills,
are covered with vines, the valleys with olives.
Table d'hote dinner at three-company numerous ;
fare first-rate. English more plentiful than black-
berries in autumn. Dinner ended, we sallied forth,
sight-seeing. Hired two calashes (gigs with covers),
into each of which three persons can squeeze, the
driver sitting on the shaft.
We were first taken to the English burial ground,
about a mile and a half out of the town. It is on the
hillside, not more than three hundred yards from the
public road, which has no fence whatever between it
and the garden pleasure ground that surrounds the
consecrated spot. The little cemetery, however, is
enclosed by a high stone wall, outside of which is a
fringe of tall cypress trees, planted close to each other,
and the sides of the wall within are covered with roses
and jasmine, and all sorts of cheerful-looking and
sweet-smelling plants. Over the entrance rises a
stone cross, now almost lost amid embowering roses.
The grave-yard is a square, composed of two platforms
--the lower appropriated to mariners, the upper por-
tion to landsmen. It is not a tender grave-yard, for
not a blade of grass is to be seen, and no earth is to
be found, except in the flower-pots, or vases, which
are placed upon the walls, and by the side of the flight
of steps between the platforms, or within the rails
that enclose some of the graves.
The graves themselves are all made precisely in
the shape of a hard, cold, stone coffin, resting upon
a stone slab of the same form; and the top of this
stone coffin is covered with shells of a large sort of
cockle, placed close together and not in a pattern.
MALAGA
229
If this shell-lid had been placed only over the last
homes of those whose vocation it was to 'go down to
the deep in ships,' there would have been a sentiment
in it most pleasing; but being laid indiscriminately on
all the graves, except those that are covered by pompous
monuments, it seemed a fancy without a meaning;
and to me there was something uncomfortable in the
sight of so much elaborate trifling with mortality.
Over one tomb a trellis-work was raised, round which
clung the passion flower. Every grave, I think, had
something of a head-stone, bearing name and date,
and most of these were wreathed with climbing plants.
The garden outside the graveyard is of some extent ;
and as there is no perceptible fence on any side ex-
cept what the cactus and aloe may make, and as
the whole country is so garden like, it is almost im-
possible to say where garden ends and vineyard
begins. The consul, Mr. Mark, has a small orna-
mental cottage in this garden, where, as we were
told, he and his family often come to pass an evening
hour of social quiet, near the dead of their own far-
off isle. This consul has made for himself a charac-
ter among rich and poor at Malaga, that does honour
to the English nation.
Leaving this lovely spot, we drove to the end of the
pier, whence you have a glorious view of the moun-
tains that rise behind the English burial ground, and
to the south-east, as I suppose, of the bay. Some
of our party walked up to the first gateway in the
Moorish wall, but were not allowed to pass forward
to the castle, not having an order, with which we did
not know before it was necessary to provide ourselves.
Back to our boarding house by the Alameda, the least
230
MALAGA
pretty of all the Alamedas I have seen, though our
best guide and counsellor calls it 'delicious.'
Just as it was growing dusk, we walked off to
look after terra-cotta figures of local costumes, which
Mr. —— had been pleased with as he passed the
shop in the morning. We found the streets some-
what crowded, particularly the great square, but all
was orderly. Whilst we were in the shop, endeav-
ouring to decide upon a selection of figures no easy..
matter where every separate one is sure to possess
some attraction or good point peculiar to itself-all
at once there was a rush out of the square into the
street where we were. The moulder of images
quickly shut his door, and with such a bang that I
was startled and not a little alarmed. The man
smiled, though his own consternation was evident
enough, and he begged me not to be alarmed, as it
was only a pronunciamiento. It did not amount to
that, however, as it turned out. It was only an in-
cident such as that between our Felton and Villiers.
Soon all was quiet again, and we walked through
streets less crowded than on our outward way. We
found most of the dinner-party assembled at the
supper-table, and in a state of no moderate excite-
ment. The General had been shot at'There
was a revolution'-'Not safe to be out in the streets'
—No diligence would be allowed to leave the town,'
&c. &c. To proceed to the diligence, notwithstand-
ing, at eleven o'clock that night, we made up our
minds, should our luggage be sent for, as was arranged.
It was sent for, and off we went, five in party; and
two Spanish gentlemen, with whom we had break-
fasted and dined, were in the passage as we passed,
MALAGA
231
and ready to follow presently to the same vehicle.
As we entered the square, six coach-mules were jing-
ling in at the opposite side, and two were already
harnessed to the heavy machine that stood at the
office door. R-- and I took the two places in the
coupé, leaving space for a lieutenant-colonel unknown,
who was to occupy the third seat. Presently the
door was opened, an umbrella was introduced between
the straps overhead, and a plaid scarf took possession
of the seat: so here vanished the hope that had
whispered, 'We shall have the coupé to ourselves;
no officers can be spared from the town to-night.
After waiting a long, long time, I inquired the cause
of the delay, and had for answer, 'Did you not see
those two gentlemen taken prisoners-one of them
the lieutenant-colonel that was to have been your
companion? They were seized just as they were on
the point of stepping into the diligence, which is now
waiting for permission to start.' After a full hour's
further suspense, word was brought that no coach
must leave Malaga before sunrise. What was to be
done? The 'Casa' was full, and to return thither
would be to return to pass the night on the floor of
a common room; and it was too late then to look
out for other lodging. So we resolved to wait where
we were the rising of the sun, and consoled ourselves
with the thought that we should travel by daylight,
and see the country through which we had to pass.
By-and-bye the door of the coupé was opened by an
officer, who said to us in Spanish what I thought it
convenient not to understand. There were three
persons here, were there not ? Where is the third,
and who are you?' I called to one of our gentlemen,
232
DILIGENCE
who explained matters; and after being told whence
we came, and where we wished to go, the officer
courteously withdrew, and we were allowed to remain
undisturbed. A soldier, not long before, had ordered
the gentlemen who occupied the body of the diligence
to descend and show themselves in the office. Some
of them obeyed, got out, and declared their birth,
parentage, and education.' One, however, coolly
answered, “If your officer wants to see me, you must
tell him to bring a light. I have no wish to see him ;
so I do not intend to get out.' The door was closed,
and nothing more was said or done. The mules
were all taken away, and we tried to compose our-
selves to sleep. One of our Gibraltar friends was
successful, and took too much pains to announce his
success for any one else to sleep. For me it mattered
not; the situation was too novel, and the whole
scene had been too exciting, for sleep and me to meet
that night. Besides, the passing of the soldiers,
tramp, tramp, six at a time, every quarter of an hour,
engaged as they were in taking prisoners, must of
itself have driven sleep away. Except for this, the
town was perfectly quiet--not a sound of disturbance
far or near.
At last three o'clock struck, the hour at which
we were assured we should start; but half-past
four was told before the glad sound of the bells
of the mules was heard again. The clocks were
almost on the stroke of five when the driver mounted
the box, and began cracking his whip most lustily,
while his companion on the seat made as much noise
with his tongue-now giving strange and loud
shouts, now talking softly and kindly, now scolding
ROAD TO GRANADA
-233
each mule in turn by name, now addressing them in
a tone of encouragement, promising them “beautiful
bread' and good wine' when their work was done.
The coachman had eight quadrupeds in hand-
enough to do to keep such a straggling-looking set
together, even with the assistance of the postillion on
his leader-a horse, with gay ribbon-plume of every
colour on its head. The postillion, too, was as gay
as his steed.
The diligences take the road through Loja. In
leaving Malaga we crossed the channel of the
rivulet, which in winter must often be a fearful
torrent, and we very soon began to ascend that range
bf hills we had admired so much the evening before
from the end of the pier. Nothing can be conceived
more beautiful than this ascent. The road winds
round and round the over-wrapping hills from first
to last; and the lovely views below you, of which
you fancied you must have taken your last farewell,
surprise you again and again. Malaga, in its sunny
little bay, was visible to us almost at the very summit.
The mountain views were grand as those into the
plain were rich—a sea of ridges, none of those round
lumpy hills, which, when they come to be oft-repeated
become so tiresome.
The road was enlivened by numerous travellers
---not travellers such as you meet on the banks
of the Rhine, lounging at their ease in London-
built or Paris-built carriages, but wayfarers most
picturesque, whether on foot or on mule-back, or
on horseback, or driving a squad of donkeys along
—the little animals, all but their patient heads, lost
among bundles of broom or heather or pine, that
234
ROAD TO GRANADA
1
they were bearing to the city from the high lands.
Strings of mules laden with corn were also frequent.
The contrabandist, perhaps, is of all these travellers
the most picturesque, with his large and handsome
scarf, woven of many colours, so gracefully wrapped
about his fine, manly figure. We likewise met many
women, but none, I think, on foot. They were
generally riding on mule-back, and behind their
hombre, holding on by a handkerchief, which went
under the tail of the horse, as I have already men-
tioned first observing near to Gibraltar.
When the top of the first range of hills was
gained we travelled for a long time on the ridge, and
often it was more grand than pleasant; for the road
was not the best, and there was no sort of defence
whatever, and sometimes the wheels of the diligence
were within half a yard of the brink, and had the
mules turned restive, or taken fright at any object
on the opposite side of the road, we must have been
precipitated hundreds of yards. The lower hills are
covered with vines on every side ; when you mount
a little higher, on three sides, then on two, then only
on one—the south—and lastly the vines disappear
altogether, and you come upon tracts of land covered
with grain, or green pasture where troops of horses
are grazing, or flocks of sheep tended by their shep-
herds. Then, for a shorter space, it is all rocks and
stones, as bold in form as anything can be. We
were fortunate enough to look upon this country
through mist and vapour and bright sunshine : at
one time the effect of a sea of silvery mist resting
between the magnificent mountain ranges was some-
thing too magical to be described. I observed many
BREAKFAST
235
hills wearing cypress crowns, and here and there we
saw a lonely farmhouse nestling under its own pecu-
liar vine-clad knoll, and almost lost among olive-trees
and fruit trees and luxuriant flowers. There are no
hedges except what the cactus and the aloe make,
and when you get up too high for them, every
appearance of a fence is gone. The Spaniards seem
fond of the cypresses, and generally plant them, as
the French plant poplars, in rows. Along a portion
of the ridge, we travelled through an avenue of these
statély mourners. Not very long after we had really
taken our last look at the Mediterranean, we stopped
at a miserable hovel to change mules. It was about
eight o'clock, and we were all ready for breakfast; so
we pulled out our basket of provender and took it
into the hut, where, on a mud floor, a table was placed
covered with a cloth that might once have been white,
two or three plates, and as many knives and forks
and glasses. They gave us a bottle of wine (which
was very good sweet wine), but nothing else, and for
this they made an exorbitant charge for the use
of the room,' as they pleased to express it.
Our first set of mules brought us all this distance
capitally, and it was astonishing to me how the
wheelers could keep their feet at the hard gallop
which their skilful driver kept them at, rattling them
down the steepish slopes, on such a road! The
jolting was, to be sure, something uncommon. The
muleteer was most loquacious. No parrot can
chatter and rail half so fast. He always got down
and ran alongside his mules when the road was more
than usually steep or dangerous, and then words were
not his only weapons ; he took up stones, and threw
236
LOJA
them at the would-be lazy beast. We kept the same
postillion and coachman with the fresh mules, but
changed our muleteer. After leaving the hotel' for
some time we continued to descend, and then
mounted to the stony region I have already mentioned.
The road over this part-this Arabia Petræa-was
dreadful; but oh, how lovely the country as we again
began to descend! Magnificent timber trees-cork
trees, oaks, &c. &c.—thickly scattered over the
mountain-side. The distance between the trees was
just sufficient to show the beauty of each tree; no
nobleman's park could be finer. Sir Uvédale Price,
had he seen it, must have confessed that nature
understood the art of planting, even better than he.
Then imagine those bold rocky heights rising out of
this glorious timber forest; and we could perceive
that this wood extended to the highest peaks, for
wherever there was a ledge to harbour soil, there
was to be seen the rich green foliage; though, from
the distance we looked at it, these trees appeared but
shrubs.
This sylvan magnificence continued with us and
on both sides of the road for a long, long way; and
as we reached the lower ground, grass or fine crops
of grain covered the land, and there, too, amidst the
glebe, were groves of stately trees. We then passed
over ground rather less cultivated, then spied Loja
on a hill below us, and not very far distant. But it
was further than it seemed; for we had to tack and
turn at a great rate, and at a great rate did we go,
before we found ourselves fairly in the town—a poor
beggarly place now, but most charmingly situated ;
and of all the rich green vales I have yet seen,
THE VEGA
237
CU
the one upon which Loja looks down is the richest
and greenest—the Vega! The diligence dined.'
As we had brought with us a good dinner from
Malaga, we thought it no sense to waste that and pay
for a second; so we looked about us while some of
our companions, who were more considerate for the
landlady's purse than their own, entered the house.
When they came to pay their bill, the woman de-
manded half-price for each of us, who had had nothing.
The demand was resisted, and the woman was silent;
but afterwards, on further inquiry, we found that
her claim was not quite so preposterous as we at first
imagined; for in some places they have a legal right
to exact the half-price as a remuneration to them-
selves for providing, at great trouble and no small
expense, for chance travellers. This regulation has
been made recently, as a sort of bribe to the en-
couragement of better inns through Spain; but the
right did not extend to this inn at Loja when we
were there, and hence the silence of the landlady
when the gentlemen quietly refused to pay.
We were persecuted by children, who followed us
wherever we went; our English straw-bonnets, I
suppose, puzzled them not a little ; and how hideous
must they have thought them, when even the smart
Parisian silk bonnet and well-adjusted Indian shawl
looked dowdy to my eye after it had been accustomed
only for a few weeks to the graceful mantilla. Thus
dogged by a wild pack of merry little mendicants, we
were thankful to resume our seats in the coach.
The road lay through the Vega ; its pretty stream
the Xenil, our wayside companion; we crossed it
more than once. Such roads! but not quite so bone-
238
GRANADA
breaking as on the heights, though worse for the
poor mules, as they had to pull the ponderous vehicle
generally through deep sand. I cannot attempt to
describe the face of the country further, for night
was fast closing in, and I could see little more than
the outline of the hills ; only I know for some time
the bed of the river was our carriage road. The
waters are turned again and again over the road
without the least ceremony, whenever and wherever,
they are required to irrigate the land; so you may
imagine what smooth roads they must be. Often
our way lay over a sandy common, where you might
select a fresh path for yourself every day, and this
within a few miles of Granada! It was mortifying
to lose the approach to this city of song and romance.
I saw the groves and the cypress trees, and nothing
more, but I heard the nightingales.
Our carpet-bags were taken to the custom-house,
close to which the diligence stopped, and though we
literally had only a carpet-bag each, and two or three
small baskets, it was a full hour before we were set
at liberty. We saw at once the game. The inspectors
wanted a bribe, which we did not choose to give, and
therefore we sat down quietly, and let them turn
over every stocking and handkerchief, one by one,
which they did as slowly as possible. At last I fell
into a fit-of laughter-as they began to turn over
the last bag in the same deliberate fashion. The
soldier who was doing it was then, I suppose, struck
with the absurdity of the proceeding, and good-
naturedly joined in the laugh, closed the bag, and
beckoned to the porter to carry it off. We followed
to the Golden Lion' in the same square. The
house looked most uncomfortable-nothing ready ;
GRANADA
239
no beds on the stocks, and to some of the rooms the
stocks had yet to be brought in. We asked for tea;
it came at last; and at last the rooms were ready,
and when I did lay down I found my bed very clean
and comfortable ; and so ended this long, and to me
eventful day—a realisation of things heard of with a
shudder-of scenes and places read of with the live-
liest interest, and of day-dreams that had haunted me
from my very childhood.
Granada : Monday, May 4.
What a lovely morning! and what a view did I
look upon this morning from the roof of the house !
Neither pen nor pencil can delineate such a prospect.
The Alhambra ! the Vega! the Sierra Nevada !-all
before me, and the town with its groves and fountains
at my feet. We had a table d'hôte breakfast, really
a table d'hôte: for here, not only the host, but his
wife and children sit down with their guests. At
breakfast you may sit down when you please, and
have what you please—tea, or coffee, or chocolate,
and bread and butter (such as it is), and eggs, or a still
more substantial repast, with wine. The charge is
just the same, whatever you take : as in Spanish
inns you pay by the day-two dollars a head. At
dinner you must, of course, appear at the appointed
hour, which here was four o'clock, and partake of
whatever may be prepared. The table is not neatly
arranged, but everything is good, and the bread
excellent.
Some of our party were so much knocked up by
the jolting of the diligence, that they were compelled
to keep quiet all day; and I too stayed at home, as
the Alhambra was shut up, in consequence of a
‘rising' that took place in Granada two days before
240
GRANADA
our arrival, when many of the ringleaders'-between
thirty and forty of them-were seized and sent to
prison in the Alhambra. I spent my day, quite in
Oriental style, on the house top,' and not a little
amusement did I find in listening to the sounds that
came from below; not street sounds, but sounds
from our inn-baby squalling, lap-dog barking, two
parrots strutting about the house at their own sweet
will, now imitating the bark of the dog, now scream-
ing out their own wild wood-notes, pet lambs bleating,
canaries screeching, cocks crowing, hens cackling,
chickens chirping, women washing and babbling in
the patio, men pelting them with what the Americans
call soft sawdor' (anglicé, flattery), from the windows
above ; master and mistress calling out to the men
to mind their own business and attend to the bells,
which have been ringing away for the last half-hour,
unheeded as the bells on the mules that are for ever
passing in the street. And yet, with all this con-
fusion, and all this want of neatness and order—for
all these bipeds and quadrupeds have the free range
of the house-I like our quarters much. There is
something so pleasant in the good-natured landlord;
he first won my heart by the pride with which he
showed off the glorious view that the top of his house
commands. Then his fat, rosy wife, too, is so
obliging, and there is such a sweet look and natural
manner in the elder daughter; and the dirty drab of
a maid is most desirous to make you comfortable,
after her fashion. There was always supper at nine
o'clock in the public room for those who required it;
we preferred tea or coffee in our own sitting-room,
and both tea and coffee were very good, though at
GRANADA
241
first we had much difficulty in making the waiter
understand that a tea-pot was required to make the
tea in; and when at last the all-important article
appeared, it was full of warm water, and into this
we were expected to put the tea. I suppose the man
was new to his office.
It was a brilliant day—a day made for the occa-
sionthat found us, soon after eight in the morning,
on our way to the Alhambra; passing through nar-
row streets, irregularly built, and not very picturesque,
till we came to the one through which the Darro
flows. Here the open mirador (with its overhanging
roof, supported on those graceful Moorish arches
springing from two slender columns), the balconies,
and the open wooden galleries, are tantalizing to one
who carries a sketch-book that may not be opened
without offence in a Spanish town. Some of these
houses, which hang over the river just where it is
crossed by a very ancient and most happily-shaped one-
arched bridge, would have made a pretty and charac-
teristic drawing. Leaving this street, you enter a
large square, which at that early hour was filled with
temporary booths or tables, where men and women
were busily employed buying and selling fruits and
vegetables. It was with difficulty our donkeys made
their way through the herds of goats that almost
paved the ground, resting themselves, I suppose,
after being brought thither from the country to be
milked. Out of this square you pass into the Calle
de Gomeles, a steep street which is closed in by the
gate de las Granadas. Pass under that, and you
at once find yourself in a thick, shady wood, with
broad walks diverging in three directions, but each
IC
242
THE GENERALIFE
leading to some portion of the magic palace. We
followed the central walk. The nightingales were
singing around us, as I never heard nightingales sing
before. It seemed as if every branch must harbour
a songster. Such a chorus of sweet voices! The
Darro was rushing down on our left, and fountains
everywhere were sending forth their cool and gurgling
song. This delightful shade and sweet music, and
refreshing harmony of waters, do not leave you till
you reach the grand entrance to the Alhambra, La
Torre de Justicia; but here we turned to our right,
and continued some time longer under this delicious
shade, for we first visited the Generalife.
In this most interesting place we positively saw
common plasterers in the very act-fagrante delicto
-of daubing the delicate Tarkish all over with com-
mon whitewash; while a young gentleman, who
was reported to us as the proprietor, was complacently
watching a process which it almost choked me to
witness, while it did actually choke up and smother
the fine stucco traceries. But for an account of the
Generalife, I say as I said at Seville, and must say
in whatever direction we turn in Spain--consult
Ford's 'Handbook. You will there find a most
clear and accurate description of the colonnades,
pillars, arches, flowers, fountains, and garden, with
the Darro flashing right through the middle of it,
with a splendour all its own; for the water is pro-
tected from the burning sun by arches of evergreen.
The view from the colonnade is glorious. The
Alhambra-grand in its external simplicity-rising
out of a girdle of trees in the foreground, and looking
down upon the town, and over the whole of the
ALHAMBRA
243
Vega—a vale thirty miles long by twenty-five wide,
and shut in on every side by a noble range of moun-
tains, the Sierra Nevada at the head, the gorge of
Loja at the foot. Some cypress-trees, old as the
time of the Moors, are the pride of this garden. I
measured one, and found it full four yards in circum-
ference, half a yard above the ground; and higher
up, where the trunk had swollen out into large
excrescences, such as you see on old oaks, it was
very much thicker. We went up to a modern sum-
mer-house, erected on the highest point of the
grounds. The prospect obtained from here is more
extensive than the views from below, but not so
lovely. From this point we contented ourselves
with looking at the Silla del Moro; for it was so
· very hot none of us had the courage to climb up that
short, steep bit of bare hill, with a sun so burning
falling upon our backs.
We descended the hill, and entered the Alhambra
by the Patio de la Barca, which, Ford tells us, ought
to be · Berkah '—court of blessing; and from thence
to the Court of Lions. But here again I must refer
myself and my readers to Ford. His description is
as accurate as a patient and observant eye, with
time and opportunity to study, and, above all, a
scientific knowledge of his subject, can make it.
And a pen like Ford's, and drawings such as I have
seen, can give you a most distinct picture of the
form and fashion of the place; but the Alhambra
must be visited, and visited, too, on a day in May
such as we were favoured with, if you would under-
stand and feel the spirit of the place. High as were
my expectations, the reality far, far surpassed aught
R 2
244
SIERRA NEVADA
my fancy had pictured of palm-like column, circular
arch, conical ceiling, with marvellous pendant orna-
ments like perfect stalactites, and walls covered with
the finest lace-work; marble floors, fountains at play
in the centre of almost every room. Nor was I at
all prepared for the extraordinary natural beauty
by which this wondrous palace is surrounded. The
views from the different rooms, especially from the
window of that most exquisite apartment, the Sala
de las Dos Hermanas, are enchanting; and what a
fairy window from which to look down upon such a
prospect! What superb views, too, from the open
gallery leading to the tocador--the dressing-room of
the sultana—and, above all, from the Torre de la
Vela, whereon the Christian flag was first hoisted,
and might be descried from the Sierra Nevada as far
as Loja, by all the dwellers on that vast rich plain,
or along the grand mountain range that guards the
vale. And what a guardian is the Sierra Nevada,
lifting her pure white head to the very skies! All
this sublime beauty in the distance is mingled with
much of the stern and bold among the lower heights;
and close at hand you have all that is soft and lovely
and graceful and delicate. Murmuring fountains-
and how grateful their murmur under a Spanish
sun !-air perfumed with flowers; groves of orange
and lemon; the shade-yielding fig-tree, the gadding
vine, the sky-seeking cypress, and the aloes and
prickly pear; and many other curiously beautiful
plants, not to speak of flowers and shrubs yet dearer
to an English eye, because they are greeted as Eng-
lish friends. And then the nightingales, singing on
all sides of you! Mount what tower you may, go to
ALHAMBRA
245
what opening you will, and there the rapturous
music will surely reach you.
Nothing can be a stronger proof of the wondrous
effect of the peculiar beauty of the Alhambra than
the utter disgust with which, on emerging from this
from that huge, pompous pile of unfinished building
which Charles V. intended for a palace that should
eclipse it. A large portion of the Alhambra was
destroyed to make way for this coarse Brobdingnag
monster, which has far less claim to affinity with its
Moorish neighbour than a Flanders cart-horse with
an Arab barb.
We lingered about the Alhambra, going from
room to room, and from court to court, and always
thinking the thing last seen the most magical--with
one exception, the mezquita (the mosque); that dis-
appointed me. But it was never built to bear the
burden of that ugly altar at one end, and that hide-
ously tawdry gallery for the orchestra at the other.
The niche in the ante-room, where the Koran was
kept, is perhaps for its size the most exquisite speci-
men of stucco-work in the whole building. But
beautiful as is this work in plaster, it is the delicacy
of the arches and pillars of dazzling white marble,
and the flat roofs, and the conical roofs, that delight
my eye most, and the floors, and the fountains, and
the- what not? The stern simplicity of those
plain, square towers and turrets has an indescribable
charm. And how fine the building looks from the
Alameda de Darro, crowning the wooded precipice,
at the foot of which the Darro runs to tell to the
busy, baking city of the cool, calm quiet of the
246
HILL VIEW
Alhambra! We, too soon, were obliged to do as the
Darro does—hasten to the city; for the clock was
on the stroke of four.
After dinner we went forth again, to see the sun
set from the chapel of Saint Michael, which stands
on the top of a hill that rises above the old town,
and is considerably higher than the one on which
the Alhambra is built; so that the chapel-yard com-
mands a perfect view of this vast structure, running
round the very edge of the hill, and rising and falling
with the natural rise and fall of the ground. Enough
of the old walls remain for a stranger to see at a
glance the enormous extent of ground which the
palace and its gardens, &c. covered. Our road to
the San Miguel took us through a great part of the
old town, where almost every house is Moorish, and
every well is a Moorish well, very simple in con-
struction, built of brick or stone, much in the form
of a bee-hive with a large door. Moorish houses
and Moorish wells; but what a contrast do these
wretched-looking brick and mortar hovels offer to the
marble palaces and fountains at Séville !—and they,
too, are Moorish. Ford explains this, which other-
wise to me would have been a puzzle : 'Granada
was built by impoverished, defeated refugees ; not,
like Seville, by the Moor in all his palmy pride.'
Yet what Moor was ever lodged so proudly in Spain
as the Lord of the Alhambra ?
We were not particularly fortunate in our sunset;
but under any circumstances this view must be well
worth the drag upon limb or purse which is required
to get at it. In one respect it is finer than that from
the Torre de la Vela; you have a noble mountain
MURDER
247
prospect behind you, into and beyond the gorge
where the Darro has its birthplace.
We met herds of goats coming down from the
hills into the city. Some of the tribe seem to live
altogether in the streets; for, go out at what hour
you may, you are sure to see them resting under the
shade of the houses, or feeding upon vegetables or
branches of trees that are lying about the door.
Paschal lambs are still very numerous; we could well
dispense with two or three out of our neighbouring
patios ; they sleep little themselves, and seem anxious
to keep everything wideawake around them. At
dinner to-day, we had the pleasure of being joined
by the friend of our arrested friend, the lieutenant-
colonel of the diligence, and of hearing from him
that the lieutenant-colonel, too, was in Granada.
He was the first cousin of the officer that was shot,
and was on that account taken up for examination;
and the fact was this: A Colonel Don Raphæl
Fulano—for I did not catch the name—while walk-
ing on the Alameda, had been shot at by some man,
who, as he presented the pistol, said : "That is the
death that tyrants should die.' The assassin escaped,
but was supposed to have been a Prussian officer in
the Spanish service, for such a person had absconded.
The officer shot was not believed at the time to be
mortally wounded, but he died a few days after we
left Malaga, as we saw by the papers. He was said
to be a martinet, and personally disliked by those
whom he commanded. This might, or might not be
true, yet one cannot help thinking some political
movement was at the bottom of it, seeing there was
a simultaneous rise at Granada; and when we
1
248
CATHEDRAL
arrived there, our coach was beset with people, all
eager to hear of the outbreak at Malaga, rumours of
which had already reached them. I know not how
many prisoners were taken at Malaga. From
Granada sixteen persons were expelled, sent to dif-
ferent parts of the kingdom. The rush through the
narrow street at Malaga, when we were in the shop
purchasing figures, was a rush of soldiers and towns-
people in pursuit of the assassin, who, leaving the
Alameda, crossed the great square, and ran down the
street. The Alameda was crowded at the time the
Colonel was shot, and he was quietly walking with
the General and other military men, among the
dames and damsels, who were inhaling the odour of
flattery and cigaritos from the lips of their admirers,
May 7.
A cloudy day. The sun broke through before
ten o'clock. We went to the Cathedral. It was
closed; but the door of the Capilla de los Reyes'
was open ; and this was what we most wished to
visit. It is divided into two parts by a beautiful
iron gate, which is kept locked ; so we could only see
enough through this splendid iron barrier to prepare
us for what we hoped to examine carefully another
day, the altar, the tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella,
and all the other interests enclosed within these
narrow walls. We walked round the Cathedral,
round, indeed; for there are dirty, shabby houses
built up against it on the east side, so that you can-
not get near it at all. Externally, it is a heavy, ugly
edifice; the only part I could admire was the Chapel
of the Kings, and a portion that runs at right angles
THE ZACATIN
249
from that, an upper gallery, with circular arches and
wreathed pillars. The archbishop's palace is a
melancholy building, in spite of pleasant memories
of Gil Blas. We crossed the Plaza de Vibarambla,
and saw the Moorish arch. This square, once so
famous for its Juegos de Canas and bull-fights, is now
converted into a market place; and here is held the
Fiesta of Corpus Christi. Preparations for this
festival were going on, erection of booths, balconies,
&c. Excellent fruits and vegetables abounded here-
peas, beans, tomatoes, artichokes, cucumbers, vege-
table marrow, oranges, lemons, strawberries, cherries,
apricots. The apricots are delicious ; the straw-
berries like our wild mountain strawberry in look and
UC
We walked through the Zacatin, the shopping
street of Granada, its Burlington Arcade, with this
grand difference, that the passage has no other
canopy than the sky, and that the shops on either
side are doorless and windowless. I am not quite
correct in saying no other canopy; for while the hot
sun is aloft, the Zacatin is covered with an awning.
We first saw it on a cloudy day, when this protection
was not needed. Here the best things are to be met
with. We were in quest of Spanish fans. The
shopkeeper frankly assured us at once that none
were to be had in Granada. He had plenty of fans,
which he showed us ; but they, like all the rest, were
painted in France for the Spanish market. Now a
man in the Vibarambla insisted on it, that his fans
were entirely Spanish ; but they told too plainly
their own history for us to be taken in.
Our table d'hôte dinner is very amusing; fresh
250
TABLE D'HÔTE
faces every day; and one or two old ones we are
always pleased to see. An elderly gentleman who
sits next to -, with a most benignant countenance,
is so quietly attentive, that I long to talk to him,
and tell him how much obliged I feel. There is
another regular guest whom I should like to talk
with tooma young man with a very large black
moustache ; and to him I should say: 'It is not
gentlemanly to sit with your hat on and smoke all
the time you are not eating, when ladies are dining
at the same table with you. Our dinner comes
thus : soup; then vegetables; then a mixed dish of
a sort of sausage and bacon; then bouillé; then
some stew or other, generally seasoned with tomato
sauce; that is followed by boiled fish; then come
artichokes dressed in oil, not good; then roast meat;
and then some roasted birds-chicken, or partridges,
or quails, or larks, or wild ducks, or I know not what:
then fried fish; and often, after all that, anchovies
were handed about. And then the dessert was put
upon the table, and with it some sweet dish of pastry
or custard, and at the same time cheese for the
English.' Four or more plates piled with olives were
always on the table : and I observed that the
Spaniards were constantly stretching out their forks
towards these plates. The landlord's pretty daugh-'
ter eats them with everything; and I really think
her fork visits the olive plate oftener than her own.
The plates were all small white ones, not larger than
English cheese plates.' Where so many are re-
quired, it is wise to have them small-so much more
convenient.
We had heavy rain in the night, and showers
CATHEDRAL
251
were still falling when we started at nine o'clock for
the Cathedral. Mass was going on. The sound of
the organ was very fine in this building, which is
certainly no mean temple, notwithstanding much
wretched taste in the fitting up, especially in the
whitewashing of the stone work and pillars ; even
that noble arch in the 'coro' has not escaped.
We waited till mass ended, and then were for-
tunate enough to fall in with a table d'hôte ac-
quaintance, who came hither on the same errand as
we did—to see the Cathedral. He had a friend in one
of the canons, and both courteously invited us to
join their party, by which lucky accident, and Ford's
invaluable book, we saw everything. The carved
and painted Virgins, by Cano, and other pictures in
the sacristy by the same artist; the priests' splendid
vestments; the capilla de San Miguel, and the chapel
opposite to it; the pictures of the Life of the Virgin,
above the high altar; the statues of Ferdinand and
Isabella, and the chief interest of the Cathedral, the
chapel where they and their descendants, for two
generations, lie entombed. We examined attentively
these splendid monuments : we descended into the
vault, not forgetting Ford's well-timed caution,
'mind your head,' and looked upon their simple
coffins. The vault contains five, those of Ferdinand
and Isabella, of Philip and crazy Jane,' and of
their son, the youth who was killed by a fall from
his horse. We ascended to study the bas-reliefs in
wood, representing the surrender of Granada, which
decorate the sides of the altar ; very curious, and
admirably reported in the Handbook. In the sacristy
belonging to this Chapel of the Kings are preserved
252
COSTUME
the sword, and the sceptre, and the simple gold
crown of Ferdinand; and each of these we held in
our hands. And we saw the queen's beautifully-
illuminated missal; also some of her embroidering
in gold, which she wrought for this chapel ; and
with shame we heard, and hoped it was not true,
that an English lady—a relic maniac, I suppose-
cut out a small portion of this embroidery. There
is a curious picture, supposed to be by Ferdinand
Gallegos, of the 'Descent from the Cross,' in a side
chapel close by. There were not many persons in
the Cathedral when we entered, but it was late ; the
last mass was half over. It was pleasing to observe
that of those few, the men were as numerous as the
women, and apparently as serious in their devotions.
The mantilla is universal ; I have seen no bonnets
except our own and that of an English lady, who is
also an inmate of the Golden Lion.' Mantilla
excepted, the dress of the women is just like ours.
The one red rose, or other flower, in the hair is
common here as at Seville. The costume of the men
is most picturesque, whether they wear the large
blue cloak, gracefully thrown over the left shoulder,
and showing its handsome black velvet, scarlet, or
Prussian blue cloth facing, or the short, silver-
broidered jacket, with slashed sleeves of divers
colours; or enfold themselves in the ample scarf,
woven of many colours, or may be of one colour,
with a gaily embroidered border. I have remarked
many hats of conical shape, as well as those with
low flat crowns, which are universal in Seville.
Mr. —- is quite right in saying that the Spanish
cloak does not look so graceful when not accom-
ALAMEDA
253
IL
panied by the Andalusian hat; the French hat
suits it not.
At the stalls and in the markets as many women
as men are to be seen; but you never meet a woman
carrying a heavy burthen, or driving mules or don-
keys, or walking when the men are riding, which
used to disturb me so much in Portugal. Here the
order of things is properly reversed; but I think
you oftener see the lady riding behind the gentleman
than alone on her steed, and holding on in that comical
way by the handkerchief, secured crupper-fashion
under the animal's tail. The saddles and bridles are
so gay! and even the harness of the diligence, in
spite of its untidy rope traces, looks very showy:
with the crimson breeching, bound with yellow;
bridles to correspond; and the collars, also, lined
with bright yellow. The Spaniards love gay colours,
and well do they harmonise with the bright sunshine
and clear blue sky.
Among the pleasant and characteristic sounds of
this fair land is that of the castanets. You hear it
constantly from the groups of children playing out
of doors. Among the street sounds is one painful to
English ears that of the clinking of the chains of
convicts, who here, as in Portugal, are the only street-
makers and menders. There is a band of them at
work at this moment below our window. The chains
have been my reveille every morning at half-past five.
In the precincts of the Alhambra you are not secure
from the distressing clank. I was again in this
enchanting spot. Today I took my way thither
through the Alameda ; this is a delicious Alameda,
with its stately avenues, its fountains, and flowers,
254
ALHAMBRA
and water-jets, and nightingales. And the towers of
the Alhambra brooding over it on the left, and the
river Xenil, so famous in song, singing to it on the
right; and the Sierra Nevada, like a pure white
spirit, watching over it from her home in the blue
heavens. On reaching the bridge by which you may
cross the Xenil, I turned up to the left, passing under
terraced gardens that sent down sweet perfumes from
their walls richly garlanded with flowers. Then I
came to curious old Moorish dwellings and Moorish
wells, and then to the houses of the gipsies—houses
scooped out of the living rock, with a hole left in the
face of it by way of a door. What wild-looking
creatures the children were that were squatting about
these apertures ! I was soon under the shelter of
the deep green shade of the wood that girdles the
Alhambra. The views that this approach commands
at any turn of the steep ascent are glorious. .
It is now always necessary to ask permission to
enter the Alhambra. My donkey-man (for I had no
other attendant to-day) understood nothing about
this matter, and he was even ignorant of the quarter
where the General lived. So I was myself obliged to
mount the staircase, and find my way as best I could
along that narrow, low, and rather dark passage to
the door of the General's apartments, and there
deliver my card to an orderly-man in attendance, and
ask leave, in the best Spanish I could muster, to
enter the Alhambra. A servant took the card from
the orderly, and the General himself came out, to look
at, I suppose, as a curiosity, the bold Englishwoman
who ventured thus to present herself alone at his
door. He, however, was most gracious, and at once
DEPARTURE FOR MALAGA
255
n
U
.
granted my request; and I hastened down the steps
with a lighter heart than I had ascended them--for
then I felt not a little awkward ; yet the strong
desire to loiter for a few hours more within those
walls that I had longed to see all my life, and might
never see again, carried me through. I went at once
to the Court of Lions. The more this beautiful build-
ing is studied, the more exquisitely wondrous does
it appear. Its beauty seemed to me even more im-
pressive on this second visit than at the first, though
that was on a true Alhambra day, which this was
not; for heavy rain fell the whole time I was there,
and a chilly raw wind found its way into every cor-
ner of the building. Four hours passed upon the
wings of the wind. I started on looking at my
watch, and found my time expired, when I flattered
myself half of it was not yet spent. By that time
the rain had ceased ; and when I came out of those
Aladdin courts, the Vega was looking more luxuriantly
beautiful than ever, under the varied effects of light
produced by bright sunshine, dark cloud, and soft
curling vapour.
Heavy rain came on again soon after five, and
continued to fall; not lucky this for persons about
to return by coach to Malaga. It ceased, however,
before eleven o'clock P.M., when we took our seats
in the body of the diligence. We had been so much
shaken in the coupé as we came, that we fancied
trying another part, and more especially as we saved
a dollar each by the exchange. We were unfortunate
in a second time traversing the plain of the Vega by
night; and though the moon was nearly at the full,
her light was so much obscured by cloud, and the
256
LOJA AGAIN
valley was so nearly lost in vapour, that we could see
nothing of what we had missed before. Day dawned
just as we reached that part of the road where the
Xenil is your companion for some time, running
through rich green fields, or under finely-wooded
banks, where a nightingale was pouring forth its song
from every tree. We heard these birds singing rap-
turously in the avenues of the Alameda as we passed ,
from Granada; and the music was ever with us till
we reached Arabia Petræa'--that grand, stony,
rocky wild on the very top of the pass.
Loja, where we breakfasted, stands most charm-
ingly, and is indeed the lock and key to Granada.
It is built on the instep of the hill, and its castle
commands the grand mountain-pass on the one side,
and the whole extent of the Vega, shut in by the
Sierra Nevada, on the other. The clouds would not
allow us a farewell look at the snow-clad heights,
The Xenil is here crossed by a picturesque Moorish
bridge.
These Spanish inns are comfortless-looking
places. Generally you first enter an immense arched
square, which occupies almost all the ground-floor of
the building; and if you are not pretty sharp in
looking about you, you are in considerable danger of
being run over by some of the eight or ten mules
that, being unharnessed, follow you through the
great doorway to their accustomed place at the
further end of this ' entrance hall. Certainly these
halls offer fine studies for the painter, with their
strong lights and broad, deep shadows, and picturesque
groups or single figures scattered about. Under one
arch are a mule and muleteer, eating from the same
A SPANISH INN
257
loaf, or resting on the same bed; under another, a
rude table, covered with a white cloth, at which the
coachman and postillion are seated at breakfast,
their gay dresses offering a fine contrast to the
gloomy back-ground; while dogs and two-legged
beggars are imploring with like earnestness the frag-
ments that may be spared from their table. Women
are sitting on the mud-floor, displaying the contents
of their baskets--fruit, bread, cakes and other sweet-
meats, and pedlars' wares, thread, and trinketry and
trumpery; and every saleswoman is persecuting you
to buy. In one corner is a knot of men, wrapped up
in their long cloaks, talking earnestly, as if the wel-
fare of the nation depended upon them. In another
is a group of idle staring lads and lasses; and you
may be sure a very handsome face or two will here
rivet your attention, and as surely your sorrow will
be excited by seeing a cigarito in the mouth of a
child who has not yet told his ninth spring. The
Spaniards are, if possible, greater slaves to the smok-
ing passion than the Germans.
The drive from Loja to Malaga is, I think, if pos-
sible, more beautiful than taking it the other way.
Oh, how much would you have found to admire! As
we were passing through that sylvan chase, where
every tree is a study for a painter-great oaks, great
chestnuts, great cork-trees, with that mountain back-
ground-we said one to another, 'I know not but
this would please him even more than Granada with
its Alhambra.' At last the hill was surmounted, and
we soon again found ourselves (among cypresses, and
vines, and olives, and the cactus, and the aloe) wind-
ing round and round those over-wrapping hills-one
258
MALAGA
turn commanding a billowy sea of mountains, the
next the Mediterranean, without a wave, and blue
as the sky overhead; and Malaga basking in her
sunny bay. It was enchanting ! so enchanting that
I did not feel the awful shaking of the diligence,
which made little R-- look quite funnily cross,
and Mr. - patiently enduring. R-, said to
me: 'Why, you seem determined to insist on
feeling no inconvenience whatever from being
knocked about in this terrible way; one would think
you were shaken up into the seventh heaven.' We
reached Malaga at a quarter-past four. A man,
whose appearance was that of a thriving farmer,
in his national costume, round hat, short braided
jacket, crimson scarf round the waist, &c., got into
our division of the diligence at the outskirts of the
town. Mr. -~ talked with him a good deal. He
asked if we were English, and was answered politely
in the affirmative. On stopping at the office, we
found to our surprise that this man was the inspector
of baggage; and when we were about to unlock our
carpet-bags, expecting a like scrutiny to the one we
had undergone at Granada, he said to Mr. -
Ladies' night-sacks, I suppose, nothing more '—and
without giving further trouble, told a porter to carry
them away. We followed to our Casa de pupillos,
where rooms had been secured for us by two gentle-
men who had accompanied us from Gibraltar, and
returned to Malaga before us. We were all ready
to do justice to the dinner that was quickly prepared,
for we were too late for the table d'hôte meal. As a
caution to others, let me say that I was made quite
ill when at Malaga by drinking café au lait at
night--rather milk, with a little coffee poured into it.
MEDITERRANEAN
259
The goodness of the milk tempted me to this act of
folly,' as the Spaniards would call it, and they are
quite right. Milk is not good in hot countries, except
for breakfast. I paid dearly for my folly, as I was
kept a prisoner to my room, and prevented from
seeing anything more of Malaga.
I ought not to have omitted noticing the flowers
which we saw on the heights : broom—the large kind
and a dwarf sort, very pretty; blue iris, convolvulus,
of a lovely lilac colour, forming graceful wreaths
on the ground and around the lovely shrubs. The
orcus, wild rose, gentianella, and another tall flower
of the same rich shade of blue.
Malaga : Monday, May 11.
Steamer arrived, and to sail for Almeria at 6 P.M.
We were on board at that hour, and weighed anchor
just as the sun was sinking in all his splendour
behind the blue mountains that encircle this lovely
bay. Nothing can exceed the beauty of scenery
like this, under such circumstances-not a cloud in
the sky, hardly a ripple on the water; to the west
the hills in shade, and in colour a deep blue; whilst
those to the east, touched by the rays of the setting
sun, were something between golden and roseate,
dying away on the more distant ranges from lilac
into a pinkish blue. Even the Cathedral looked well
in that dim light between the setting of the sun and
the rising of such a moon as, I suppose, can only be
seen, in Europe at least, over the Mediterranean or
the Adriatic. The night was so exquisite that I
could not tear myself from the deck till long after it
had been converted into a dormitory for what are
s 2
260
DECK PASSENGERS
called deck passengers, who are taken from Cadiz to
Marseilles for 61., when the fore-cabin passengers
pay about 141. 10s.; and, as far as I can see, in
weather like this, they are as well off as we. They
have the free run of the whole deck both by day and
night, and greatly do I prefer the deck to our cabin.
I was up soon after five, and saw the sun rise out of
the sea, and by-and-by fall upon the snowy peaks of
the Sierra Nevada. The mountain is very fine from
this side, but not so fine as from Granada, though
here you look upon its highest point; but this point
is not so well shaped as the 'Watch Tower,' which
from Granada appears to be the summit. The
range of mountains that runs between the Sierra
Nevada and the sea is good in form, but bare and
arid ; not a tree to be seen, and rarely a white wall
glitters in the sunshine, to tell that the earth is
inhabited by man. The shore, for a considerable
distance, is very peculiar, more like the high and
steep bare bank of a river than that of a sea. It
wore this appearance when we were opposite the
snowy mountain. Then it became a sort of rounded
bank of red sand, the hills retiring and leaving
between them and the sea a plain of considerable
extent. A small town, Roquetas, rises up close upon
the shore, where the plain runs to a point, and the
mountains again advance to bathe their feet in the
blue waters of the midland sea-such a kind sea to
us! having allowed us to float for twelve hours upon
its waters in perfect comfort. We did not land at
Almeria, as we were told by more than one of our
most intelligent fellow-passengers who knew the
place well, that there was really nothing to see to repay
CARTHAGENA
261
us for the trouble and expense of landing. The boat-
men are extravagant in their charges, and will cheat
you into the bargain if they can. I amused myself
sketching the town and its peculiar rocky back-ground,
so to me the day passed swiftly.
May 13.
On deck before six. We were then within sight
of the outer bay of Carthagena. The same character
of coast continues. Barren mountains finely formed,
rising boldly out of the water—not a sign of vegeta-
tion, and little or no variety in the colouring.
The bay conceals itself so ingeniously that,
approaching from the west, you are at a loss to
guess where the opening can be. A castle on the
height above us, and another fort rising on the
opposite hill, assist to unravel the mystery; and a
small island to the right, a natural outwork protect-
ing the bay on the sea-board, now shows itself to be
an island; and very soon you round the point, and
the land-locked bay opens beautifully upon you,
encircled by a range of mountains that fall away
gradually towards the centre, there to rise again, as
if to form a commanding site for a castle; and on
it does stand the semblance of a veteran stronghold,
which we hope to get nearer to presently.
The plain, for the most part, has a barren
appearance, almost as barren, as the hills that en-
circle the bay, though here and there the eye is
refreshed by a green field, and a few trees which a
knot of houses has gathered round it. The want of
verdure is what strikes you most on entering the
bay of Carthagena. In fact, there seems but one
262
CARTHAGENA
colour, and that a melancholy, arid, dusty reddish-
brown. At first you can hardly distinguish the
houses from the rocks on which they are built; and
in looking down on the town from the castle-hill,
whence you only see the flat roofs, it is almost.
impossible for a short-sighted person to distinguish
the houses. There are a few sloping roofs ; but the
Oriental fashion greatly predominates.
We made a progress through the principal streets.
on our way back to the posada, where a party of
fourteen-all, I think, fellow-passengers—sat down to
an excellent, yea, excellent though genuine Spanish
dinner, and where we had an olla and salpicon, and
what they called soup, but what we should call
stewed macaroni rather sparingly supplied with
gravy. This last-mentioned dish I thought excellent,
though the calling it soup, and serving it upin a tureen,
and eating it with a spoon, seemed ridiculous.
The dishes followed each other as I have
described at Granada ; dessert and sweet things.
placed on the table at the same time. The wine
was very good, that is, it was not Murcian vinegar.
We were waited on by the mistress of the house
and her children-one, a sharp little fellow of about
twelve years of age, who would have done credit to
any inn in England; he had his wits about him, and
was proud of his office.
This was the first time I was actually in company,
in a really social sense, with the majority of our
fellow-voyagers. There was one young gentleman
whom we had before remarked on deck as the
merriest, the most good-humoured and most mis-
chievous, although the greatest sufferer from sea-
THE INFANTE
263
sickness of the noisy troupe of young Spaniards who
contrived to amuse themselves with one another
from morning till night. This youth, as we after-
wards learnt, was married; and his wife, a French
woman, was in her native country. The boy-husband,
a thoughtless harum-scarum as he appeared to be,
was, however, so thoughtful of his lady-love, that he
purchased for her at Barcelona a costly set of jewels;
and of this splendid love-token I shall have a word or
two to say by-and-by. Our two friends, Don C-
S-a, and the young French gentleman before
mentioned, were to us the most agreeable among
the rest of our companions; but by far the most
remarkable for eccentricity was a little—very little
sharp-featured but rather handsome Castilian, with
large jet-black flaming eyes, and a profusion of jet-
black curling hair. He was an enthusiast, an orator,
a poet, and, I believe, a madman. He told everybody
severally and apart, and with the strictest injunctions
of secrecy, that he was an Infante travelling
incognito. He favoured me with his notions on the
art and excellence of kingcraft. His intended
system of monarchy, if he should ever come to the
throne—an accession which he seemed to look to as a
not improbable event, was very simple; but I fear it
would hardly prosper in this Iberian realm. 'I would
rule my people,' he said, 'with a loaf of bread in one
hand, and a whip in the other. They should have
plenty of bread, and plenty of blows. That is the
way to govern.' Fancy this smallest of black dwarfs,
who spoke like an oracle, the stay and scourge
of the trembling Spains! Our diamond Benedict
played him off admirably; and the royalty in
264
COSTUME
disguise did not seem to have the least suspicion
that the professed deference and homage were wag-
gery in disguise, almost amounting to lèse-majesté.
Yet the drolling and gleeking of the wag could have
deceived no one else. To me the farce was less
amusing than unpleasant; for I could not, as I
watched the flashing glances of the Castilian, get
rid of the impression that he was insane, and there-
fore an object of pity.
After dinner, profiting by a lecture from our
lecturing friend, Don C-my S , on the sin of
employing the mind when all the nervous force is
required by the stomach to assist it in the process of
digestion, I took my chair, placed it in the balcony, and
there satidly under the shade of the grass-woven blind,
peeping out at the side to watch the passers-by.
The handsome scarfs excited my envy. They
are made precisely like the Highland plaids, only
much larger, and generally of the gayest colours. I
saw some, however, of black and white check, like
the common Scotch plaid. A white ground, crossed
by broad stripes of scarlet, and narrow stripes of
gold colour, and finished at each end with handsome
tassels, not large but very numerous, appeared the
favourite style. Some are brown and white, and
some self-coloured, richly embroidered at the ends.
Hats with sugar-loaf crowns, surmounted by a gay
ornament: sometimes a tassel of silks of every
colour, sometimes a bow of ribbons, sometimes an
ornament of gold or silver, or what looked like a
precious stone set in silver. A sandal shoe, made of
the feather grass or Spanish rush, is much worn ; it
is laced on the foot by strings made of the same
11
CARTHAGENA
265
plaited grass; short wide white trousers, hardly
reaching to the knee; sometimes feetless white
stockings; but more frequently the legs bare, so
that this costume of Murcia has much of the
Highland character about it, differing only in colour.
The fashion of both is of Roman origin, and each
country has coloured its dress in harmony with its
respective earth or sky. Mantillas are universal;
we never see a bonnet. In undress, a handkerchief
merely is worn over the head. Cloaks, among the
gentlemen and burgesses, are universal too; with
the French hat, or the Andalusian hat, or a cap of
any sort. Carthagena is one of those places that
impress the mind with a deep feeling of melancholy,
difficult to shake off. It is not the state of utter
ruin of the ancient works on the heights that
produces this effect, for time can clothe even ruins
with cheerfulness; but it is the falling into ruin of
the more modern buildings, the decay of trade, the
complete stagnation of the national works of that
grand arsenal, and the consequent absence of life
and spirit in the town and among the people, this it
is that so saddens the heart. When you look round
and see what nature still does for the place, and
what man has done to carry out her protecting
principle, you cannot but mourn over such a wreck
of former greatness.
We returned to our steamer, as enjoined, by six
o'clock, but we did not sail till eight.
Thursday, May 14.
Again on deck before the deck-passengers had
removed themselves and their beds from the floor.
No easy matter to steer your way through this sleep-
266
ALICANTE
ing company, and most disagreeable. These filthy
steamers do, indeed, want some reform; to English
notions, nothing can be much more disgusting—but.
enough of that. This was a cold, dull morning, and
heavy rain came on about eight o'clock.
The same barren coast still! Fine outline of
mountains rising abruptly from the sea before you
enter the bay of Alicante—bay it can hardly be called.
The mountains to the west fall away, or rather
retire, to leave place for trees and houses and green
fields; while to the east a bold hill rises abruptly,
crowned by a castle, and fringed on each side with
its walls and towers. Under this hill lies the town
and its shipping, which is now considerable, for
Alicante has taken the place of Carthagena as a port
of call. We did not land, the weather was so un-
promising; and we were assured we had the best of
the town from the sea; for we should not have had
time to go about, hunting for leave to enter this gate
and that tower, or to examine churches, &c. Some of
the passengers, however, did land at Alicante, at the
earnest request of our French friend, who had come
down into the cabin, imploring somebody to go à terre
with him, as he was half-dead with sea-nausea.
Many showers continued to fall all day, and at
last a hurricane of a small kind overtook us : then
followed thunder and lightning, and then pelting
rain. The two steamers of Cadiz met here, and had
a closer meeting than either liked. It was during
the hurricane, which whisked them both round before
they knew where they were ; and thump went the
stern of our old Gaditano against the side of his
younger brother, and stove in some planks of his own
COAST
267
boat, which was slung astern. Happily, no greater
mischief was done ; but no little effort was necessary
on the part of crew and passengers to separate the
combatants, and get them beyond each other's reach.
As the storm passed away, the effect of sunshine and
- gloom on earth and sea and sky was indescribably
beautiful. We left Alicante at seven ; and so long as I
remained on deck the coast preserved the same sullen
character. But next morning my eyes opened on a
different country. Those barren-seeming rocks which
we had left behind carried their wealth within-all
that was the mining district between Almeria and
Alicante. Now, the wealth is on the surface; and
it is grateful to the eye of the voyager to rest upon
green fields and green trees, after that long tract of
brown bare rock and sand ; and it does gladden the
heart to see again the dwellings of man glittering and
glistening in the cheerful sunshine; for as the day
advanced, the sky, which in the early morning was
an English sky-dark and gloomy_brightened up,
and by the time we anchored at Valencia the day
was cloudless.
Got on shore as quickly as possible, and into a
tartana, the carriage of Valencia-like an English
covered cart, but comfortably stuffed and lined with
cloth, cushioned seats, swung along each side, windows
in front, and door with a window in it at the end.
In a carriage of this kind we seated ourselves, along
with the young Frenchman, and a person from one
of the inns, and were jolted up to the town, a distance
of full two miles. The road, though so bad under
foot, was very pleasant; one long, continuous, shady
avenue of weeping poplars and elms, and on either
268
side the country was rich and smiling-clean, com-
fortable, whitewashed houses, neatly thatched,
standing among luxuriant cornfields, vineyards, mea-
dows, and gardens. The whole of the plain around
Valencia, indeed, has so much the appearance of one
vast garden, that you hardly are aware when you do
come into the garden-ground of the city.
We crossed the bridge, which has for its guards at
the town end the Virgin Mary to the right, and St.
Pascal opposite to her. The river at this season is a
mere streamlet, and very muddy (probably, too, its
water was drained off for irrigation); but that at some
seasons it must bring down an immense body of water
is evident from the length of the bridge. This being
crossed we were soon under the city wall—the Moorish
wall, perfect, as if but finished yesterday. The door of
our carriage was opened, as we passed under the gate-
way, by a soldier, who at once took our word that we
had no luggage,' and allowed us to proceed. The
first building we came to was the cigar manufactory-
not so large as the one at Seville, but very handsome.
After breakfast à la fourchette, we went off, to make
the most we could of our two hours and a half for
seeing Valencia. We followed Ford's directions, and
by this means saw as much as was possible, except
that as it happened to be Friday, we lost too much
of our precious time in going to hear the Miserere at
the chapel of the Colegio de Corpus. The gentlemen
were disappointed in the effect. We ladies were not
permitted to enter the chapel, as we were not dressed
in mantillas. From this chapel we went to the
Cathedral, which we raced through; then up to the
top of the tower—a glorious view. The plain of
VALENCIA
269
Valencia is even richer than the Vega of Granada ;
it is much more highly cultivated, and much more
populous. Maybe it is not richer by nature, but art
enriches it more. Valencia is a rising city--Granada
a declining one. Here the wonderful works and
plans for irrigation, introduced by the Moors, are
kept up and applied as in their time-certainly not
to the advantage of the poor robbed river. Mountain
outline good, but nothing after Granada. Town
striking, with its many towers and spires, and gold
and silver and blue cupolas. The Cathedral itself is
a most curious building, with its low square lantern-
tower, and its numerous gold cupolas all round the
roof. These cupolas are not golden, nor even gilded,
though I have given them an epithet from El Dorado ;
they are simply covered with a glazed tile that has
the effect of gold. Again we raced down the tower,
and round the choir and high altar : on our way out
saw two good pictures near the door; but we had no
time to look at pictures, and therefore did not pre-
tend to attempt it. Besides, had time allowed, the
light would not; for the building is so dark, we could
not have seen them, really seen them, without lamps.
Many of the windows are rich in painted glass; the
green, and the yellow, or rather orange, struck me
particularly.
From the Cathedral we pursued our way down
the principal streets, and into the market, which
was plentifully supplied with fine fruits and vege-
tables, and to the Alameda; and then we were
obliged to hasten back to our inn. The Museo was
closed. The streets are very narrow, and, for the most
part, not paved ; but in the principal thoroughfares
270
COAST
there is a well-flagged footway on each side. The
houses are very picturesque and handsome, each with
its arched gateway, conducting to a patio surrounded
by arched colonnades. Many of the houses are
painted tastefully outside. Many flat roofs; but it
seemed to me that here the sloping roof is more
common.
Sorry were we to be compelled so soon to say
farewell to pleasure-giving Valencia ; for how genu-
ine is the pleasure that it gives to a traveller to enter
a busy, cheerful, flourishing town in Spain, where he
meets too frequently desolation and decay. Indeed,
it was a trial to turn our backs on Valencia, to return
to that dear (I mean expensive) dirty, dawdling
steamer, and her spitting company.
We, however, received from Valencia a valuable
acquisition to our society, a young and handsome
English matron, one of those noble-looking women,
of manners unaffectedly refined, which it is refreshing
to one's patriotism to meet with abroad, now and
then. Mr. ---, when he first saw her, said to me,
sotto voce :-
"She is not happy, though her smile would fain the truth deny;
I know too much of sorrow's guile to trust a laughing eye.'
And he was right. We were heart-saddened, long
afterwards, when some particulars of her story were
related to us. She was accompanied by her child,
a handsome sprightly boy, about nine years old.
The wind was up, so I was down, and in my
berth, and obliged to remain there till we were within
an hour's sail of the bay of Barcelona. Could not
answer the call to come and look upon Montserrat.
Here the coast of Catalonia is certainly very fine&
rich green plain running down to the water's edge,
BARCELONA
271
thickly sprinkled over with trees, and studded with
dwellings, bounded by a range of mountains, of which
the outline is magnificent; now rising in peaks, now
presenting a bold rounded head, now falling away
suddenly as if purposely to show to the passer-by
other heights behind, as rich in verdure and in
mountain variety as their own, which have so long
gladdened both eye and heart. The white houses of
Barcelona are seen long before you near the harbour,
which lies snugly under one of those bluff headlands
that rise abruptly from the plain, and this headland
you have to double, coming from the west, before
you are in harbour; and how thankful we were to
round it just before the sun sank behind the hills-
and how gradually did he sink! One quarter of an
hour more and the time for landing would have ex-
pired, and we must have rocked for twelve or fourteen
hours longer in that horrid steamer. But, thanks
to our good star, we landed ; and, thanks to Don
C- yS- , we were very speedily in a carriage,
through the custom-house, and on our uninterrupted
way to our inn, the ‘Cuatro Naciones,' on the Rambla;
and, thanks to the warm baths of the Calle de San
Francisco, we could that night go to rest in comfort.
Barcelona : Sunday, May 17.
Beautiful day for us. Fresh breeze and no burn-
ing sun, but just enough of sunshine and cloud to
give life and beauty to all around. Our friend the
lecturing Don came to us soon after 10 A.M., and
proposed that we should accompany him to the
end of the pier, whither he was obliged to go about
his passport, and other obligations most odious to the
272
BARCELONA
feelings of a freedom-loving Catalan fresh from New
York. He was to apply for permission to take up his
abode for a few weeks in Barcelona, his native city!
And should he be inclined to leave the hotel where
he has now settled himself to go into another lodg-
ing, or to take a house of his own, he must again
appear at the office, state his wishes and intentions,
and obtain leave to move.
We bent our steps towards the Muralla del Mar,
a broad, well-kept, breezy terrace-walk on the ram-
parts, where the fashionables of Barcelona resort
after sunset, when the cool shade of the Alameda is
no longer grateful. It was, indeed, a gay and cheer-
ful scene this Sunday morning, thronged with pea- .
sants in their holiday garb, laughing and talking
away. most merrily. The harbour below crowded
with vessels-small craft chiefly, their gay flags
waving or fluttering in the breeze-such a display of
flags as I never saw. Each vessel must carry two
flags—the national flag and the flag of the town or
district to which it belongs, and many have private
flags besides. Barcelona is undoubtedly a fine city,
but too modern to be interesting or picturesque; in
proof of which I may mention that but twice during
our long walks to-day have I regretted the impossi-
bility of attempting to sketch, on passing, the church
of San Miguel, and again another church, which
looks as ancient, in the street that leads to the Angel
gate. Doubtless, had we had time thoroughly to pry
into the old parts of the town, we should have dis-
covered subjects for the pencil without end; and we
did observe many curious old houses, and many bits
of Roman ruin in the heart of the ancient city.
BARCELONA
273
After walking almost to the end of the pier, we
returned and entered the church of Santa Maria del
Mar. Splendidly painted glass windows, especially
the circular window over the great door. The tall,
light pillars branching off to form the roof are pe-
culiarly elegant. Leaving the church, we passed
through the fruit and vegetable market, more
crowded, I suppose, than usual, because it was Sun-
day. Fine-looking women, and such very pretty,
neat, tight-looking girls—their small, rounded waists
shown off to great advantage by the black or very dark
coloured bodice, which fits close to the figure, with
a coloured petticoat finished by a simple hem. This
saya is generally of printed cotton. Lilac I observed
to be a favourite colour. A kerchief on the neck,
neatly pinned down behind and before, and long black
mittens, which reach to the short, tight sleeve of the
bodice, complete the costume. They wear a kerchief,
too, over the head, tied under the chin, as in Portugal.
This simple covering for the head seems universal
on the coast of the Peninsula. Prussian blue is
a favourite colour for the neck kerchief, and a rich
crimson or scarlet for the one that covers the head :
these two colours agree well together. The southerns
have certainly an eye for mingling and harmonising
gay colours, which we northerns know little about.
From the market to a public walk, 'El Lancas-
trin,' so called from Don Augustin de Lancaster,
the Captain-General of Catalonia, under whose direc-
tion it was finished in 1801 ; and a delightful spot it
is for the inhabitants of Barcelona to loiter in, with
its tree-shaded seats, and fountains, and garden-plain
seen between the trunks of the trees, stretching away
274
BARCELONA
to the blue hills, and bounded at one end by the blue
waters of the Mediterranean. To the ramparts : fine
view inland of hill and plain thickly sown with villas,
farmhouses, and comfortable cottages. To the
Cathedral: the building was commenced in the thir-
teenth century, and, alas ! it is not yet finished. The
portal, or main entrance, has yet to be done. The
long, broad flight of stone steps to conduct to this
would-be magnificent entrance is falling into decay,
and hardly a stone of the entrance is laid! The
Cathedral, though small after those of Seville and
Granada, is very beautiful within. But the general
effect of the building is destroyed by the heavy marble
wall of the choir, which, as you enter from the west,
entirely cuts up the view you otherwise would have,
through a long vista of noble columns that support
the lofty roof of the sanctuary, and its graceful semi-
circular colonnade of ten pillars meeting at the top
to form a canopy over the high altar. The relics of
Saint Eulalia, the patroness of the city, repose in a
superb shrine in the chapel under the altar. Two
flights of steps lead down to the chapel, from the
front of the sanctuary. Raymond Beranger, Count
of Barcelona, and his wife, were the founders of the
Cathedral; their ashes are preserved in the urns
placed near the sacristy. The painted glass windows
are gorgeous; and how richly do they tinge the dark
grey stone of roof and pillars !
In the course of the afternoon we walked to the
· Puerta del Angel,' and a little beyond that we got
into a public shandrydan, and were conveyed to
Gracia, the Hampstead of Barcelona, a full mile and
a half distant from the gate; and all this way you
travel on a public walk carried through shady avenues.
yn 11
LU
GRACIA
275
There are three roads abreast; the centre, which is
very broad, is appropriated to pedestrians, and the
other two to carriages and horsemen, the goers to the
city keeping to the right side, the outgoers to the
left. (You pass by chocolate-gardens,' prettily laid
gardens in the neighbourhood of London.) A low
wall, that also answers for the purpose of seats, runs
. along both sides of this triple road, and the wall is
guarded outside by a hedge of sweet roses. These
the children seem free to pluck, for every child we
met had its hand full of roses, and still the hedge
appeared laden with flowers. The country is a con-
tinuation of what we looked upon from the ramparts,
only the circumstances under which we saw it on
Ludy.
happy; there were stray lights streaming from a sun
setting in a stormy sky, a slight shower falling, and
a brilliant rainbow, forming an arch over the city of
Barcelona. On our walk city-ward, we turned aside
into one of the chocolate-gardens, and were pleased
to observe the quiet, orderly manner in which the
people were enjoying their holiday.
Next morning we went very early to the Cathedral,
hoping to ascend the tower. Mass was going on and
we could not see the sacristan; and after lingering
about the building more than an hour, studying the
painted glass, the pillars, the roof, and the curious
altar, and the boots and scissors engraven on the
cloister-floor-honest symbols of the trades of those
who lie buried beneath-We were obliged to give up
the ascent for the present, and go about some shop-
ping, in which we had failed at Granada. Our grand
T 2
276
HORTA
wants were books and Spanish fans. The books
were not to be had, and the fan-hunt was hardly
more successful; though, after a great deal of trouble,
and trotting hither and thither, we were directed to an
immense warehouse, and here we did find some fans,
made and painted in Spain, and by Spaniards; but
it is quite true that ninety-nine out of a hundred-
or even more than that of the fans sold in Spain
come from France. Nor is that to be wondered at,
when you see what clumsy things the Spanish aban-
icos are. Cigar-cases, too, and all little dandy ap-
pendages of the kind, are French.
At mid-day four of us started in a double fly for
Horta. Beautiful day; beautiful drive ; abominable
road ; fig-trees very fine ; aloes and cactus in flower ;
orange-trees in fruit and flower; corn fields and
potato gardens; vineyards and olive grounds ; level
ground—undulating ground; hills round-hills
conical, covered to their summits with vines, and at
their feet single houses, or hamlets, which often
extend up the dingles and look most snug abodes, half
lost among fig-trees and groves of oranges. In one of
these dingles lies El Laberinto. This garden was the
main object of our drive—a pretty thing of the sort,
with its gravel walks, walls of cypresses, steps,
terraces, summer-houses, grottoes, fountains, pools
filled with gold and silver fish, statuary, labyrinth,
bosky waterfalls, open and shady pathways, where the
nightingales sing delightfully; and more than all,
that deep wooded dingle, down which a dancing brook
would be your eye as well as your ear companion, were
its waters not diverted from their natural course to
play mountebank pranks among rocks and stones,
EL LABERINTO
277
and which, though pretty enough, are not half so
pretty as the gambols the brook would play if left to
its own fancy. The house is poor, and the paltry,
make-believe, castle-like additions which were in pro-
gress when we were there will only add to its poverty.
The views from the garden terraces are very exten-
sive, over the rich and populous vale through which
we had driven, and bounded in front by the Mediter-
ranean--on either side by vine-clad hills.
From this fair garden we drove to another, that
of Señor Anglada, about a mile distant, situated, not
like El Laberinto, in a dingle, but on the top of a
knoll of the same mountain side. Here all the
beauty, except that of the landscape which the posi-
tion commands, is artificial, consisting of fountains,
statues, summer-houses, clipped hedges, &c. I was
not a little entertained by the high garden walls
which are painted to represent houses; here is a
window where a cat is sitting to sun herself; there,
at a half-open door, a set of little heads are peeping
out; by another and lower door a cock is strutting
in to look after his brooding partlet. One very pretty
effect of artifice I observed in the pools that encircle
some of the water-jets, groups of the Lily of the Nile;
the vessels in which they are planted being sunk under
the water, the flowers seem to be the native growth of
these pools. The useful was here attended to as well as
the ornamental, for a full half of the pleasure-ground,
and close to the house, too, is devoted to the produce
of grain : and cherry-trees, laden with ripe fruit, were
standing among the corn. Both at this Huerta
Anglada and at the Labyrinth, there were tablets
setting forth, rather ostentatiously, the fact that
278
CATHEDRAL
the Catholic Majesty, Ferdinand the Seventh, had
honoured the place with a visit.
We reached the city before six, and hurried off
to the Cathedral, hoping to be more fortunate in our
aspiring views than in the morning. Prayers were
over, but christenings were going on, and the sacristan
was engaged. We watched our opportunity, and
sent him a message by one of the children of the
altar. The answer was, “No one can ascend the
tower.' This did not satisfy us, and we would speak
to the sacristan ourselves : so we lingered about the
Cathedral, which you cannot enter too often; and
most beautiful it was this evening, with the strong
light of a sinking sun pouring through the splendid
windows, and falling upon the fine pillars of the
colonnade that encircles the altar. We spoke to the
sacristan, and received the same answer; on which
Mr. --- inquired the reason. 'I have received
orders from the Captain-General to permit no one to
ascend the tower. We walked away almost as
moody as mutinous Catalans. We had a tower-
ascending mania ; and we had been up all the towers
within our reach from Dan to Beersheba, and found
nothing barren of interest. The prohibition, it was
said, was in consequence of the feverish state of this
turbulent province, the tops of such towers being
convenient positions to make or receive signals.
On coming out of the Cathedral, we paid a second
or third visit to the Plateria, and its enormous ear-
rings and gold chains, and strolled leisurely through
other streets, going we knew not exactly whither—the
pleasantest of all ways—till we found ourselves in
the Plaza del Mar; and thence we returned to our
MANTILLAS
279
inn by the 'Muralla del Mar,' which was crowded
with people of all degrees. I am never weary of
admiring the graceful mantilla and the elegant fan;
and what a picture it is when, by the side of her
mantilla-coifed mother, some lovely child, her head
uncovered, is running along, while the sea-breeze
plays with her ringlets. Many such pictures we saw;
for it is common here for children to walk out with-
out kerchief or other coiffure; but the custom is by
no means universal, for we often saw small damsels
in French bonnets walking with ladies who wore
mantillas; and at Barcelona the fashion of wearing
bonnets is more prevalent among the ladies than I
liked to see. White mantillas or scarves--some of silk,
others of stuff or cloth—are much worn among the
poorer classes; the effect is heavy and unbecoming
out of doors; but on kneeling or prostrate figures
amid the deep gloom of the churches, that sort of
head-dress is very touching. It is impossible for a
stranger to enter these dark churches without some
feeling of awe. When you first go in from the bright
sunshine, you literally seem to be going into utter
darkness; by degrees one part of the building after
another opens upon you, and at last you can see dis-
tinctly all but the finer sculpture and the pictures.
The Rambla was crowded, and so it is always.
Barcelona is unlike any other Spanish town we have
visited; it is noisy and busy by day, and noisy and
idle by night. Our hotel, the 'Cuatro Naciones,' we
found most comfortable, and the bill extremely
moderate. We left these pleasant quarters at five
A.M. on Tuesday, the 19th-a beautiful morning ;
many of the shops already open; men sweeping the
280
BARCELONA
streets, which are kept very clean. Mr. -- had
promised last night to wait for Number Forty-four,
Monsieur St. P , the young Frenchman ; but a
waiter, who was sent to his chamber before we
started, came back with the report that .No. 44'
was, not to be found. He was already gone out..
We met him in the street, on his way back to the
inn, after an hour's unsuccessful cruise in search of
some early-rising hatter who would sell him a
sombrero—a shady hat.
The pier seems the granary for the city, a re-
markable proof of the dryness of the climate. Heaps,
and heaps of corn, for sale or exportation, lying on
mats; but with no covering whatever over the grain,
Pretty umbrella-tents were scattered about this part.
of the pier, protecting the store-keepers from the
sun ; round the stick of the umbrella was a table,
and round that again a circular seat; the covering
was of white and blue cotton, in squares or stripes,
and with a deep flounce.
Before we got into a boat to return to our detested
Gaditano Primero, Monsieur St. P- made his
appearance, having settled his affairs at the hotel,
and having, moreover, at last achieved the purchase
of a sombrero that would have won the heart of a
Virginia planter's daughter by its breadth of brim.
Few words will suffice for the coast, as any good
map will give its outline, and the names of the towns.
and villages we passed by. We kept all day very
near the shore, which from Barcelona to the Gulf of
Rosas is a succession of pretty bays, divided by hills
that run into the sea. In several of these semi-
circular bays small towns were sparkling ; between
GULF OF LYONS
281
each of them and the sea was a platform of clear
reddish sand ; behind them a range of green hills,
cultivated to the top, and behind these again a fine
back-ground of loftier hills, rocky and varied in form;
but the general effect was rather graceful than grand;
the sea, and some of the more abrupt great hills,
were far from wanting in majesty. There was more
verdure, more trees, on this eastern side of Spain
than we had usually seen on the southern side.
Gulf of Lyons: May 20.
On deck early. Sea as smooth as our own
Windermere on a mild May morning; no land in
sight; fish coming up to feed, or play on the surface
of the water. First words from Mr. — when he
joined me on deck about eight (how welcome, and
how unwelcome !): 'You are now off France; do
you see the coast ?' Welcome, as telling of our
approach to England; unwelcome, as telling of our
having left Spain, after having seen so little (yet
multum in parvo) of that magnificent land.
I did perceive the French coast, and tame and
uninteresting it was, and barren it looked, till we
came within sight of the rich and populous neighbour-
hood of Marseille, behind which a high and irregular
outline of hill again appears. The bay is very
beautiful; to the left is gently sloping ground, thickly
studded with villages, villas, and cottages; to the
right, bold bare rocks and rocky islands, on which
fortresses are raised; and the mainland, resuming its
bolder character, forms a fine mountain back-ground.
Whilst almost everybody was on deck watching
282
THE INFANTE
the coast, or looking out for the haven, as we glided
over the smoothest of waters—for there was not a
breath of wind strong enough to raise a ripple-the
Infante was below in the saloon, singing to himself
with loud glee. Attracted by the noise, Mrs. B 's
little boy peeped down the skylight and saw him
attitudinising and gesticulating with great force
while he sang. The child called to some of the
gentlemen to witness the odd scene; and one of
them, the wicked wag of the diamonds, told the boy
to go down and ask the Infante whether he was
for a player, the Castilian demanded the name of the
errand. The boy, innocently enough, answered that
it was one of the gentlemen on deck, but he did not
know his name. Up rushed the Infante in a fit of
rage that it was awful to see even in that homunculus :
and he unluckily directed his fury against Mr. St.
P- , whom he took it into his head to select as
the author of the affront, while the real offender was
silently grinning and enjoying the success of his silly
joke. The Infante's vituperation of the astonished
Frenchman was wonderfully fierce; he did indeed
* tear passion to tatters. But he was no actor here :
his passion was too earnest to be ridiculous, though
he foamed at the mouth, clenched his fists, gnashed
his teeth, and stared as if his eyes were going to
start out of his head. But he did at last make us
smile, when, drawing up his person to the full dignity
of its height—about four feet at the utmost-he said
to Monsieur St. P--, 'Do you know, sir, the peril
you have incurred ? I could throw you up to the
THE INFANTE
283
top of that funnel. I feel such strength within me
at this moment, that I could take up an elephant
and hurl it into the sea. Monsieur St. P-
behaved perfectly. · He at first tried to soothe the
wild little man with assurances that he was mistaken
in supposing that any affront was intended towards
him. This only seemed to exasperate him the more.
St. P- then declared that, at all events, he was
not the person in fault, if any provocation had been
given. The disclaimer was met with a flat accusa-
tion of falsehood, and in the twinkling of an eye the
Infante drew out a knife from his pocket and un-
sheathed it. Mr. - , who had been trying to
pacify him, now seized his arm, and a woman, the
wife of the captain of the steamer, dexterously
wrenched the knife out of the Infante's hand.
Monsieur St. P , whose patience was gone, said:
"Well, sir, since you fasten a quarrel on me, we will
settle it on shore. Don't let us make any more
noise here.' What do you mean?' said his Highness.
'I mean that I will fight you when we land,' was
the answer. “Fight me! You, a plebeian, fight me!'
exclaimed the Castilian. When I fight it must be
with a nobleman, not with a clown.' 'Have you
got your patent of noblesse in your pocket?' replied
the Frenchman; "if you have, show it, and I will
produce mine.' But the captain now came up from
the fore-cabin, and taking it for granted that the
Castilian must have really received some outrage,
began to reproach the Frenchman with an air of
authority. He was, however, soon silenced, and the
Infante’s fit of passion ended in a fit of tears, and there
the matter ended. The moment it was suggested
UUD
284
THE DIAMONDS
to Monsieur St. P - that the Castilian was in all
probability a maniac, the brave young Frenchman
recovered his good-humour, and said, 'If I had thought
of that, I should have taken no notice of his abuse.'
Some of the passengers had told the jester, who
was the cause of all that disturbance, and whom
R- called Don Diamond Younghusband, that the
jewels he had bought for his wife would certainly be
· seized at the French custom-house as Spanish con-
traband. Alarmed at this intelligence, he consulted
the Frenchman as to the fact, and he, by way of gay
revenge for the trouble he had been put to with the
Infante, assured the wag that his diamonds would be
seized, though he confessed to us that he knew no-
thing about the custom-house regulations. The idea
of losing those brilliants was no joke to the young
Spaniard, and in his perplexity he was advised to
ask me to take charge of them, as they might be
more likely to pass among a lady's things. He was,
however, too modest to ask the favour, so one of his
friends asked it through Mr. - Little R-
insisted upon it that Don Diamond's wife must not
lose her diamonds. I did not suppose there was any
risk of that, and I answered that I would not attempt
to smuggle them, but that I would, if the owner
liked, place them in one of my boxes where they
might be seen at once, and where I had no doubt
they would be safe enough. The precious casket
was brought to me, and I had it carefully placed in
a portmanteau in such a way as that it could not
seem to have been concealed. Mr. told me that
this was the best plan. Before we landed, Mr.
gave our keys to the Commissioner of the Hôtel
MARSEILLE
285
Orient, and we did not even accompany our luggage
to the custom-house ; yet when we got to the inn,
rather a long walk, which we took leisurely, there
were our packages all ready, and all safe, diamonds
included; while Mrs. B- , who went with us to
the same inn, and who had her Italian courier and
her own maid to look after her effects, did not receive
them for some hours. We attributed the speedier
clearance of ours to Mr.-_'s having trusted every-
thing to the Commissioner.
As we were going ashore, Mons. St. P- asked
us to take in our hands two green velvet foot-cushions
embroidered in gold. He had bought them at
Tangiers for his mother at Nantes, and was doubtful
whether they would pass among his luggage. I
took one of them and R- another. Mine was
examined by an officer on the pier, and allowed to
pass. Neither little R- nor her cushion were
seen. She passed in the crowd, and was greatly
delighted at being, as she said of herself, too small
to be visible. So you see,' she added, “there is an
advantage sometimes in being little.'
The entrance to the port of Marseille, like that
of Carthagena, is wonderfully protected by nature, and
the port itself is a grand harbour, and crowded with
shipping; the number of steamers remarkable. But
the air of this port is dreadful, and one thinks it im-
possible that Marseille can ever befree from pestilence,
and yet they say that the effect of the foul air is not
injurious, though that of the water is fatal; for we
were assured that no one was known to recover who
had fallen by accident into this harbour from ship or
shore. This might be an exaggeration; but let no
286
MARSEILLE
traveller be persuaded by any one of that persecuting
tribe, customer-catchers for hotels, more troublesome
than Ramsgate touters, to go to an inn upon or near
to the quay of Marseille. We were fortunate in
being strongly recommended to the Orient, and found
that hotel well deserving the character that had been
given to it. Don Diamond soon came for his
treasure, and he could hardly believe that it was not
only secure, but that there was nothing to pay, and
that he was free to take it where he would. He was
grateful; and we were pleased because we had not
smuggled it for him, but fairly let it take its chance
with our own things. With your own,' objects
Mrs. Scruple; “yes, and as your own.' 'Aye,
there's the rub; Mrs. Scruple, I fear you have taken
a sound objection to an unsound plausibility, and I
am not quite easy on that point. I must call in
the aid of my Portuguese motto : I meant nothing
wrong: it was all por bem, por bem.'
The town is very handsome, but too English-
looking to be interesting, and too well-known to be
dwelt upon here, though in ancient historical interest
it may leave even Seville or Granada or Carthagena
far behind. We rested here two days, and then
hastened forward by diligence through Aix, Avignon,
and Valence to Lyons. There we remained over
Sunday, and on Monday we again proceeded by
diligence through Roanne, Moulins, Nevers, Briare
to Orleans, and thence by railway to Paris, where we
remained three weeks. We then went to Rouen by
railway, and down the Seine by steam to Havre de
Grace. Once out of that harbour we were at home,
for we were in the English Channel, and in a few
hours we were landed at Southampton.
7
PARIS
287
What! pass from one extremity of France to the
other, and through the best part too, and not one
word ? Not one. Avignon, Vaucluse, Petrarch,
Orleans, Maid of Orleans, away, all away! I will
not be tempted. We left a world that is nobody's
when we left the Serras of Portugal and the Sierras
of Spain. In France we were in a world that is
everybody's, pace Gallia. I might as well babble of
our own green fields as of the garden of Provence, or
of the mighty waters of the Rhone, or of the poplar-
fringed banks of the Loire and the Loiret. I might
as well say something of the architecture of Trafalgar
Square as talk of the Place Vendôme and its bronze
column, where · The Man of the grey coat, and
three-cornered hat straight to the front, stands aloft
once more on the cannon of Marengo ! as he did
before his first abdication, and looks over the city,
wondering what bold Venus gave that stony cestus
of fortifications to his Paris, and with it no 'apple
of discord’; wondering still more what hand, even
bolder than his own, has reduced the fair proportions
of Le Notre's Garden, and fenced off nursery-walks
and playground for new lodgers in the Tuileries. I
spare the reader, if I have one who has travelled
with me so far, my sage reflections on these and
other things as marvellous. I say not one word
either about the Louvre or the Morgue: I leave
Notre-Dame to Victor Hugo, and the Citizen King
to Chateaubriand and to M. Thiers and Maria
Christina. I say nothing of St. Germains, where
the sailor king, the last discrowned of our Stuarts,
was content to die, but where his courteous host, the
fourteenth Louis, called the Great, could not endure
288
ROUEN
to live, because the palace commanded one unpleasant
prospect, far off but yet too near, the church of St.
Denis, where he must one day be gathered to his
silent ancestors. I could more wisely describe the
Force of Dungeon Ghyll and the Fall of Foyers,
with the pictures painted around them by the
mistress-hand of Nature, than St. Cloud and its
water-works, and Versailles and its water-works, and
its works in oil-colours, and its Trianons, and its
everything, all admirable as they are-all gay as
Youth, and sad as Memory. Rouen, with its St.
Quen, and its Palais de Justice, and its—but here
again I was tempted to be an echo to Echo. Here
again, too, that haunting unlaid ghost, the Maid of
Orleans, stirred my woman's pulse and bade me cry
out, Shame on Bedford !' But the stones that
pave the little square, where her effigy now stands,
the place where she was burnt alive, are eloquently
hot, and warned me off.
There were two boys, each of whom possessed a
magpie. The one boy boasted to the other, 'My
magpie talks—yours can't.' The owner of the mute
bird answered, 'Yes, my magpie can't talk, but she
thinks the more!' Unluckily for the reader, I did
not hear this story till I landed at Marseille ; but
having heard it, I travel from one end of France to
the other, and say nothing; or cry his mercy for not
having been equally thoughtful and taciturn on my
perch in Portugal, and on my flitting along the south
and eastern coast of Spain.
Spottiswoode di Co. Printers, New-street Square, London

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