TRAVCELS ^ 
 
 IN 
 
 PORTUGAL. 
 
 > J 1" J 
 
 IbV"-. 
 
 JOHN LATOUCHE.'r^.fi-Uj^.vE 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 THE RIGHT HON. T. SOTHERON ESTCOURT. 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER, WARWICK HOUSE, 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 

PEEFACE TO EIRST EDITION. 
 
 These Travels were published in consecutive Numbers 
 of " The New Quarterly Magazine," under the title 
 of Notes of Travel in Portugal. The favourable 
 reception they met with from the public press has 
 induced me to revise them, to enlarge them con- 
 siderably, and to republish them in book form. 
 Although, at my publisher's suggestion, I have 
 altered the title to the more convenient one of 
 Travels in Portugal, I desire to say that they are 
 nevertheless nothing more than notes— mental notes, 
 for I travelled without any design of future publica- 
 tion, and kept no single written memorandum of 
 what I did or saw. This I say in apology for the 
 somewhat discursive style of my work, and in miti- 
 gation of critical judgment. Furthermore, I did not 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 travel continuously. My travels were interrupted by 
 periods of residence; both of which extenuating 
 circumstances may, I pray, when I come to be 
 reviewed, be taken into consideration. 
 
 In looking over the proof sheets, it has struck 
 me that I may have unconsciously magnified the diffi- 
 culties in the way of pleasure travelling in PortugsL 
 I have, therefore, somewhat modified my original 
 statements, and in one place I have added a long 
 explanatory note. 
 
 I would wish my dissuasion from Portuguese travel 
 to be accepted only by the mere tourist — the igno- 
 rant, conceited, incurious, moneyed tramp, for whom 
 so much deserved contempt has been expressed in 
 current literature. Those who go to Portugal to 
 enjoy a pleasant winter climate will, as a rule, I 
 think, do well to go. Those who go to see a strange 
 people with a famous name in European history, to 
 watch the successful working of a representative 
 Constitution, to study archaeology, ecclesiology, or 
 natural history ; or, again, those who simply desire to 
 take a month's holiday and a month's relaxation in 
 spring, summer, or winter, in a quite new country 
 (with no intention to '* do *' the country in ordinary 
 
PREFACE, vii 
 
 tourist fashion) will, I think, not regret a visit to 
 Portugal. 
 
 For the illustrations to this volume I am indebted 
 to the kindness of the Eight Honourable Thomas 
 Sotheron Estcourt, who has allowed me to choose 
 from among a valuable series of finished sketches in 
 pen and ink and in sepia, made by him in the course 
 of a visit to the Peninsula. These sketches were in 
 every case made upon the spot, and to their perfect 
 fidelity I can myself testify. After attempting in 
 vain to get the dehcacy and finish of the drawings 
 reproduced by the engraver, I had to fall back on 
 photography, and they appear in the shape of re- 
 duced facsimiles by means of the Woodbury Type 
 process. 
 
 John Latouche. 
 
PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION. 
 
 After recording the pleasing circumstance that a. 
 very large First Edition has been exhausted in rather 
 more than two months, I have little to say in this 
 Preface to a Second Edition beyond expressing my 
 gratitude for the friendly and — what is as import- 
 ant to an author — the early reviews of my book 
 in the leading journals. By no other means can a 
 comparatively unknown and quite unrecommended 
 writer bring his literary wares to market ; for the 
 very fastidious reading public of Great Britain fol- 
 lows the great social law observed by our country- 
 men everywhere, and will make no acquaintance with 
 a strange author till he be first formally introduced 
 to their notice by the critics, the indispensable 
 fuglemen of the press, and masters of the ceremonies 
 in the society of letters. 
 
 Exception has been taken by the *' Times," in the 
 course of a full and favourable notice of the " Travels," 
 to my apparently " implacable " feelings against the 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 Tourist class. It is perhaps true tliat I have ex 
 pressed my objection to one section of this class rather 
 freely ; but be it understood that I, no other than a 
 tourist myself on many occasions of my life, should be, 
 and am the very last person to speak ill of tourists 
 generally. I did, indeed, draw a distinction between 
 the idle and luxurious tourist and the traveller who 
 is in pursuit of something beyond the mere killing 
 of his time. The first, I urged, after a considerable 
 knowledge of Portugal, would find that country quite 
 unsuited to him; the true traveller, on the other 
 hand, prepared for rough travelling, and willing to 
 pay the price of much discomfort for an increase of 
 his knowledge of a curious country and a little-known 
 people, would find Portugal very well worth travelling 
 in. Again, I have recommended the two chief towns of 
 Portugal as health resorts, under some circumstances 
 and with some limitations. 
 
 As evidence that I have no desire whatever to 
 dissuade the more intelhgent class of travellers from 
 visiting Portugal, I will even do my utmost to induce 
 them to go thither. I hereby confirm the opinion 
 expressed in the " Times " review as to the ease with 
 which the country can be reached from England. 
 '' Imagination," says my critic in the '' Times," 
 " invests the little western kingdom with all the vague 
 terrors inspired by the long-continued disturbances 
 of the rest of the Peninsula." All of which terrors the 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 reviewer shows to be groundless. The " Times " 
 writer might have gone further, and said that imagi- 
 nation plays 'more pranks than this with travellers. 
 It would be safe to say that nine intending sea- 
 travellers to Portugal out of every ten expect to have 
 to cross the "ever- vexed" Bay of Biscay; this is, 
 as any map will show them, a geographical error, 
 seeing that their steamer's true course from Ushant 
 to Finisterre never once brings them within a line 
 drawn between these two points, inside of which line 
 only are the turbulent waters of this much-feared bay. 
 From all this it may be concluded that this said 
 quality of imagination is a very troublesome sort of 
 commodity for a traveller — fatal to enterprise. It 
 is, indeed, the bane of travellers ; and the Scotch, 
 the most daring of all adventurers by sea and land, 
 possess either least of this unheroic quality, or have, 
 more than other people, the power of suppressing its 
 excess. As to which fact, I beg to relate a pleasant 
 and appropriate instance which chanced to come 
 under my own observation. It happened that a 
 Scotch lady, residing in a distant land, desired to 
 take a favourite native servant home with her.' " Oh, 
 madam," objected the woman, " I would willingly go 
 with you, but for the sea — I am so terribly afraid of 
 it.'' "The sea!" said her kindly and energetic 
 mistress ; " what do you think you will have to do 
 with the sea ? You are simply put into a steamer 
 
xii PREFACE. 
 
 here and taken out at London. Pray, what does 
 the sea matter to you ?" The girl went, and found 
 that her mistress had been right, and she altogether 
 wrong ; and this I think proves what a foolish thing 
 is this same imagination, which, for this poor girl, 
 had clearly summoned up mountains of waves which 
 she personally was to do battle with, sea-devils, 
 whales with their huge mouths gaping at her, mon- 
 strous spear-nosed fish tilting at her weak body, and 
 heaven only knows what beside ; and, compared to 
 these horrors, all the nasty reahties of steam-boat 
 travel, the hot, stuffy, oily smells, the closeness, the 
 noise, the nausea, the stewardess — appeared, no 
 doubt, quite endurable evils. 
 
 To right-thinking, non-tourist travellers contem- 
 plating a visit to Portugal, I commend this anecdote. 
 I say to them, " Pray, let your imagination lie in 
 abeyance. What have rebellious Carlists, or the 
 rough waves of the Bay of Biscay to do with you ? 
 You are put into a steamer at London, Liverpool, or 
 Southampton, and taken out, in due time, at Lisbon 
 or Oporto, safe and sound." 
 
 John Latouche. 
 London, 
 
 September 20, 1875. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 4 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PA6B 
 
 Vigo— Real Travel and Holiday Travel — Choice of a Horse — Lies of 
 a Spanish Horse dealer — Vigo Bay, in connection with British 
 Naval History — Serious Quarrel between Guide and Innkeeper's 
 Family— Boorishness and Virtues of the Galicians — Story of a 
 Zarzuela Actress — Bed and Board of Travellers in Portugal — 
 Tuy ; its Gothic Cathedral 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Spanish and Portuguese on the Frontier Line — ^Travel Southward — 
 Banks of Minho — Caminha — Sea Coast — Hospitable Farmer — 
 Ghost Stories — The Lohis-homem ; h Grisly Tale — Farm Work in 
 Northern Portugal — Land Tenure and Peasant Farms — Unde- 
 scribed Druidical Remains— A District Peopled by Women — 
 Anecdote in Testimony of their Good Conduct — Timoleon of 
 Cosse 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Vianna — Costume and Looks of the Women — Cheerfulness of the 
 People— Their Dances ; their Improvised Singing — River Lima — 
 Unsupported Tradition — Funeral Customs— Surrounding Scenery 
 Overpraised — Raptures over Scenery make poor Reading — Home 
 of Miranda, the Poet —Reflections on Ill-directed Travel, sug- 
 gested by Misadventures of Two British Tourists— Abundant 
 Traces of the Moors — ^Wrong Construction put upon the Author's 
 Motives — ^Belief in Hidden Treasure — Stories in Proof — Precious 
 Stones in Portugal— The Crown Jewels j the Braganza Diamond. 44 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 Visit to the Gaviarra — Prudery of Portuguese Writers — Decay of 
 Literature — View from the Top of Gaviarra— Early Portuguese 
 History — Advantages of Travelling on Horseback — Ride through 
 the Gerez Mountains and along Spanish Frontier— Wild Birdg, 
 Beasts and Flowers— Fishing and Shooting not Good in Portu- 
 gal — Hill Forts — Legends Connected with One— Mild Religioua 
 Exercises — Pilgrimages to Shrines 73 
 
xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 pxQta 
 The Castle of Braganza — Hebrew Type of Face in Braganza— Impor- 
 tant Part Played by Jews in Portuguese History— Conversation 
 with a Jewish Traveller— His Story of Spinosa — Mirandella — 
 Monotonous Cuisine of Well-to-do People in Portugal — Legend 
 of the Bruxas — Villa Eeal ; its Architecture — Eeturn of Enriched 
 Adventurers from India and Brazil— Dull Life in Portuguese 
 Country Towns— Curious System of Courtship — Anecdote — Des- 
 cription of Port Wine Country — Sketch of the History of Port 
 Wine — Has a Literature of its Own — The Pass over the Marao 
 Mountains 99 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Luxuriance of Vegetation on Western Slopes of Marao Hills — A 
 Large Cactus — Affair between General Loison and Portuguese 
 Troops at Amarante — Cinque-cento Ornamentation of Church of 
 San Gon9a]o — Sketch of Progress of Christian Architecture in 
 Portugal — Legend of Saint Gonial o — Undeserved 111 Repute of 
 • People of Amarante — An Unlucky and Foolish Mining Company 
 — Curious Waterproof Cloak — Portuguese Peasantry Lineal and 
 Unchanged Descendants of Conquerors of the Saracens and 
 Castilians — Old Charters — Breed of Horses Crossed with Arab 
 Blood in Moorish Times — Vallongo — Its Ancient Gold Mines— A 
 Toy Mine at Work— Mining Prospects of Portugal — Oporto — Its 
 History — Its Famous Siege — Is the Centre of Political and Com- 
 mercial Movement in Portugal — The Douro ; its Dangerous Bar 
 — An Old Roman Beacon 1 27 
 
 ' CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Fozjthe Brighton of Oporto — Sea Bathing — Douro Boats — The Portu- 
 guese a Trafficking People, but not Commercially Adventurous — 
 Churches of Oporto— Remarkable Historical Picture — The Douro 
 Passage of, in 1812 — Curious Reputation of the Douro in Spain — 
 Fish and Fishing in the River— Ethnology of Portugal — Variety 
 of Races— Appearance of the People — Gold Ornaments of Moorish 
 Design— Railway to Lisbon— Places on the Way — Marsh Scenery 
 — Coimbra— Erroneous Tradition about Inez do Castro — Univer- 
 sity of Coimbra; its Connection with George Buchanan— Pombal 
 — Marquis of Pombal the Bismarck of Portugal— His Life and 
 Character— Alcoba^a—Batalha, the Battle Abbey of Portugal- 
 Its Plateresque Style of Architecture — " Tanias El Rey," mean- 
 ing of- Objection to *' Interviewing " Respectable People, and 
 Reporting their Conversation— Conversation of Chance Acquain- 
 tances very Poor — An Instance Hf) 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lisbon— Cintra Overpraised — Monserrat, and the Author of Vathek — 
 Moorish Palace Fort at Cintra— Pariah Dogs of Lisbon have 
 Ceased to Exist— Dog Hunts — Humanity of the Portuguese — 
 Mild Bull Fighting Practised in Portugal— Singular Tameness 
 of Domestic Animals — Native Newspapers — Their Timidity and 
 Scanty News — Curious System of Avowedly Paid Literary Criti- 
 cism — Modern Art Progress in Portugal disappointing— E«- 
 pousse Work — Point Lace— Ancient Furniture— Caldas Faience 
 — Paintings Deplorable — The Academy Exhibition — Gran Vasco 
 and his supposed School 187 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 From Lisbon to Evora — Lost Fertility of Great South Tagus Plain — 
 Fine Roman Remains at Evora -Abundance and Triviality of 
 Roman Inscriptions — Elvas — Wrong Choice of a Guide — His 
 Blunders, his Ghost Stories, and General Imbecility — Legend of 
 the Seven Whistlers— The Guide's Terror- Benighted in a 
 Forest — Recovery of Horses and Guide 20/ 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Hostess at Monsaras a Shrew — Her Volubility and Use of Proverbs 
 — Spanish Frontier— Line of Demarcation Distinct between 
 Spanish and Portuguese Character — The Portuguese Language 
 — Affectation of the Brazilians — Portuguese Share in " Pigeon 
 English " — Portuguese a Living and Growing Language — An 
 Instance ; Origin of Word, Fajardismo — An Intelligent Swindle 
 — Oliven^a, once Portuguese, now Spanish— Radical and Impor- 
 tant Difference between Spanish and Portuguese National Cha- 
 racter and Institutions 225 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Juromenha — Desolate Country — Last Stand of Moors of Portugal 
 Made in this Region — Final Wars of Moors and Portiiguese 
 Treacherous and Bloody — Sketch of History of the Great Portu- 
 guese Home Crusade — Names of Different Sorts of Christian 
 Marauding Expeditions Preserved in Charters to Towns and 
 Convents — Mertola — Final and Crowning Misadventure of the 
 Guide Francisco ' . . 24G 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Boat Journey down the Guadiana to Villa Nova — Scenery and Botany 
 of Province of Algarve— The Locust Tree— Boatmen's Stories — 
 The Ginet — Mr. Mason's Successful Mining at San Domingo — 
 Embark for Lisbon in a Trading Schooner— The East Wind ; its 
 Bad Reputation— Proverbs— The "Rock" of Lisbon; Why so 
 
xvi CONTENTS. 
 
 called — Viseu — Its Famous Pictures— Gran Vasco—Discussion as 
 to his Authorship of Pictures ascribed to him — The Province of 
 Beira — Its Unsophisticated Inhabitants — Their Singular Dress 
 — Their Probable Origin — Eemarks on Travel Writing— Culture 
 and Good Manners and Nature of the People — A Theory Un- 
 supported by Facts— A Portuguese Priest — His Stories about 
 Wolves — Diminution of Wolves in the Country— Good and In- 
 offensive Character of the Priest — His Views on Sport — Through 
 Oporto Northward — Monastic Church of Le^a do Balio — Des- 
 cription of a Pine Forest— Barcellos — ^A Portuguese School In- 
 spection — Farming — Strong Traces of Roman Farm System— 
 " Green Wine ; " its Taste and Good Effects — Eecapitulation of 
 Impressions of the Portuguese, as a People 259 
 
 SUPPLEMENTAEY CHAPTER. 
 
 Reasons for Writing a Supplementary Chapter — Influence of the 
 Moon in Portugal — The Planting of Cabbages — Spade and Hoe 
 Cultivation— Women's Work— Superstitious Notions — The Fat- 
 tening of Pigs — The Priests' Influence — Non-Secular Education — 
 Cheap Substitute for Newspapers — Hints to Tourists — Climate — 
 Language— Anecdote — Philistinism — Anecdote — Manners and 
 Morals — Management of Forests and Orchards — A Secret in 
 Forestal Science — Flower Gardens — A Problem in Agriculture-— 
 Farm System of Portugal 324 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 Tut and Valen9A. Ponte db Lima. 
 
 VlANNA. AmARANTE. 
 
 Batalha. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 CHAPTER I. •' •"'.,■• :,;".■'::•., 
 
 Vigo— Beat Travel and Holiday Travel — Choice of a Horse — Lies of 
 a Spanish Horse-dealer — Vigo Bay, in connection with British 
 Naval History — Serious Quarrel between Guide and Innkeeper s 
 Family — Boorishness and Virtues of the Galicians — Story of a 
 Zarzuela Actress— Bed and Board of Travellers in Portugal — Tuy 
 its Gothic Cathedral. 
 
 Landing at Yigo, in tlie ancient kingdom of Galicia, 
 the traveller is only nine leagues from the northern 
 frontier of Portugal ; and he may make his prepara- 
 tions for a journey into that country with as great 
 advantage in Vigo as in any of the larger towns 
 of Portugal itself. If he is in haste, and wants 
 rather to have seen the country and the people 
 than to see them, let him take the diligence, which 
 will hurry and jolt him along a road leading due 
 south, over the Spanish frontier, through the town 
 of Vianna, and the city of Braga, to Oporto. At 
 this latter city he may take the train, and, still 
 going due south, will make for Lisbon; stopping 
 
 1 
 
2 TltAVELS m PORTUGAL, 
 
 for a day, perliaps, to look at the architectural 
 s]Dlendours of Batalha and Alcoba^a. From Lisbon 
 lie will visit the cool retreats of Cintra. He will 
 take a hasty railway trip south of Lisbon, through 
 a hideously barren country, to Setubal ; another to 
 the west, through an uninteresting country, to 
 Evora ; and he will, on finding himself at Lisbon 
 • : ; ; 'again'', (anjd"; :if I am not mistaken, with no small 
 sa,tisfaction), -take his passage in the first steamer 
 /'*•.:' *-'f(Dr "*'Londoh' ' 'or Southampton, and his report 
 upon the country he thinks he has seen will be — 
 '' Portugal is thoroughly uninteresting ; the country 
 in parts is pretty but not remarkable, in parts it is 
 a barren wilderness. The people are inaccessible 
 from the difficulties of a language which does not 
 appear worth learning, and therefore of their 
 manners, habits, or customs, it is difiicult to say 
 anythinof.'* 
 
 Now, a man needs not to be of that order of 
 traveller who vrill journey from Dan to Beersheba, 
 • and say, "all is barren," to arrive very honestly at 
 this conclusion ; and yet the country is not in fault, 
 only his mode of trying to see it wrong ; and I hope 
 to show, in the following pages, that the verdict of 
 my supposititious traveller is unjust in every parti- 
 cular. 
 
 Portugal is as yet virgin soil, so far as the 
 British tourist is concerned. No preparations have 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 8 
 
 as yet been made for him, liardly any one speaks his 
 language, no inn-keeper expects to see him, no guide 
 is ready to show him' the lions. 
 
 There is a large class of travellers who should 
 avoid Portuguese travel — those who are impelled 
 to foreign journeying less because they care for it 
 than because all their friends travel, and who, driven 
 from England by that " oestrum " which flies abroad 
 in the autumn months, not unreasonably like to find 
 all the comforts of home during their holiday in 
 foreign lands. Let not any of the migrant tribe 
 who propose to travel in established tourist fashion, 
 visit Portugal. Even Spain has greater, nay, along 
 beaten tracks, great facilities for the luxurious 
 tourist. Yet the obstacles to profitable travelling 
 in Portugal — profitable in the sense of learning 
 something of the people and of their ways — are, 
 after all, but few. Unfortunately, first among them 
 stands the language, and, without a fair command 
 of it, let no traveller venture. It is a language 
 which few people think it worth while to acquire ; 
 moreover, it is a difficult language, easy enough 
 to learn to read, but far harder to speak than 
 either Spanish or Italian. This is the chief 
 obstacle; another is the extraordinary badness of 
 food and lodging along the road. Sour wine, stale 
 oil, black bread, and dried fish are the staples in 
 the less frequented districts. Another is the abso- 
 
4. TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 lute necessity, if it is desired to see the real beauty 
 of Portuguese scenery and to study the lives and 
 manners of the people, that the traveller should 
 journey chiefly on horseback ; for the few carriage 
 roads, as a rule, pass through the least picturesque 
 and interesting parts of the country. I know of no 
 other difficulties, and, on the other hand, Portuguese 
 travel has its good side ; there are no brigands, and 
 the people are well-tempered and well-mannered, 
 very obliging and very hospitable.* 
 
 The present writer does not propose to write a 
 regular itinerary of his travels in Portugal ; for, in 
 truth, he has journeyed over many dreary leagues 
 of road on which he would be sorry to ask for the 
 reader's company. His object will be to carry him 
 rapidly from one point of interest to another, and 
 tell him what he has learned in his travels of the 
 ways of life of a very singular and interesting people. 
 Nevertheless, the reader who shall follow him will 
 have quite enough of the usual incidents of horse- 
 back travel, of roadside inns, of good landlords 
 and bad ones, of kind welcomes and of cold ones. 
 
 There is now, I am told, an excellent hotel at 
 Vigo, kept by a German with a French wife. There 
 is, therefore, the less occasion for me to dwell on 
 
 * This warning, be it observed, applies only to tourists : not, as 
 shall hereafter be set forth, to persons intending to reside — perma- 
 nently or temporarily — in the country. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 6 
 
 tlie fact that no excellence of the kind existed at the 
 time of my visit, which was made several years ago. 
 
 Since that time a French scientific expedition has 
 taken up its quarters at Vigo. The work they have 
 before them is the recovery of the treasure believed 
 to have sunk with the Spanish galleons which had 
 taken shelter in Yigo, in the year "J 702, during the 
 War of the Succession, wiien the combined French 
 and Spanish fleets were attacked by Sir George 
 Rooke, in command of a Dutch and English squad- 
 ron, and the town was stormed by three thousand 
 men, under the command of the Duke of Ormond. 
 
 My first and, in fact, my only object in remain- 
 ing even a single hour in Yigo was to buy a horse 
 for my journey. With this view, and without men- 
 tioning my purpose at the inn, for landlords are 
 only too apt to be in leagus with roguish horse- 
 dealers, I sallied forth to discover for myself the 
 equine capabilities of the place. I had made the 
 tour of the town and was coming back, without 
 seeing anything desirable, when I perceived a 
 gentleman in high boots with immense silver spurs, 
 a well-used velveteen jacket, and a dirty red sash 
 wound several times round his waist. This person 
 was leaning against the wall of a dark entry leading 
 from the street, and had so evident sin expression in 
 his face, attitude and bearing, of some sort of proprie- 
 torship in horseflesh, that I instantly accosted him. 
 
Q TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 I was correct in my surmise. He told me that 
 he was the possessor of about twenty of the very 
 finest mares in Spain ; " every one of which/' said 
 the horse-dealer, taking off his hat and making me 
 a bow, "is at your Excellency's service." 
 
 . I followed the man along the vaulted passage 
 into a large stable. My eyes getting in time used 
 to the gloom of the place, I could perceive the in- 
 distinct forms of some twenty or thirty under- sized 
 ponies ; some tied up to mangers running round 
 the walls, and some fastened to the numerous stone 
 pillars which supported the roof. I looked with 
 some dismay at their diminutive bodies and gene- 
 rally " weedy " appearance. 
 
 Horse-dealing is a serious matter in all countries, 
 but in none more so than in Spain, where a bargain, 
 even for the hire of a pack mule or a guide's pony, 
 is approached with the utmost circumspection and 
 gravity. 
 
 '' Sir," I said, addressing the horse-dealer, with 
 a suitable solemnity ; '' pray look well at me, and 
 having done so, inform me to which of these animals 
 you recommend me to confide my person for a 
 journey of some three or four hundred miles." 
 
 My companion gravely and politely removed 
 his hat for the purpose of the desired inspection,, 
 and having concluded it, he replied — 
 
 " Caballero, I perceive that you are a person 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 7 
 
 not to be imposed upon. These animals you have 
 seen are certainly not worLliy nor indeed capable 
 of carrying your distinguished person." And thus 
 he went on with a blarneying speech of great length 
 and volubility, ending by telling me that he possessed 
 one horse of quite superlative excellence. Descant- 
 ing on the way upon the merits of this particular 
 animal, he led me to its stable. 
 
 Knowing the ways of horse-jockeys — knowing 
 that a horse is praised by them geuerally in inverse 
 ratio to his merits — I was not a little surprised to 
 iind, in a small separate stable to which the dealer 
 conducted me, a strong, good-looking horse of the 
 Andalusian breed, apparently sound in wind and 
 Hmb. 
 
 The dealer led him out into the street, saddled 
 him with the cumbrous saddle of the country, and 
 put a bridle in his mouth. He mounted him. The 
 horse's action was as good as his looks. I asked the 
 price with some anxiety, for I saw that the perform- 
 ance of my journey on horseback was dependent upon 
 getting this horse. After a great deal of tedious 
 bargaming, I obtained him for twenty-five pounds ; 
 no doubt much more than the horse's market value, 
 but he was a fairly good one, and did me very good 
 service. 
 
 My plans were to make at once for Tuy, on the 
 River Minho, which is the northern boundary of For- 
 
8 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 tugal, and tliere or at Yalen^a, tlie Portuguese town 
 wliicli is on tlie opposite side of the river, to procure 
 an active servant to accompany me upon tlie Portu- 
 guese portion of my journey. My preparations were 
 soon made. A good English saddle I had brought 
 with me ; also a pair of regulation cavalry pistols, 
 and holsters for them. At Yigo I bought a true 
 Spanish cloak of stout broadcloth, a saddle-cloth, a 
 pair of capacious saddle-bags, and I was ready. I 
 might have carried all my baggage on the stout An- 
 dalusian, and ridden to Tuy in a day by the high 
 road ; but I had a reason for wishing to keep along 
 the sea-shore. Asking the horse-dealer for a guide 
 over the mountains by the sea, he proposed to accom- 
 pany me himself, remarking, however, that the road 
 was bad, and the people along it no better than the 
 road. 
 
 At daybreak the following morning we made our 
 start. Skirting the magnificent Bay of Yigo for a 
 mile, we soon began the ascent of a steep mountain, 
 and continued, till the sun was pretty high, ascend- 
 ing a good deal, and now and then descending a little. 
 Presently the whole bay was spread out hke a map 
 beneath our feet. The day was calm, and the steep 
 hills and white houses, with their verandahs and 
 projecting eaves, were reflected as in a lookiug-glass. 
 
 Fine as the scene before me was, there was a 
 certain human interest about this bay which far out- 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 9 
 
 weighs any admiration for it as scenery. Some 
 very momentous episodes of our own history have 
 been transacted within sight of these hills, and 
 evidences thereof cannot but be lying at this mo- 
 ment beneath the quiet waters of the bay. If, by a 
 miracle, they could be lifted for an instant, we should 
 see such a sight as would realize Clarence's dream. 
 We should look upon 
 
 ** Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearls. 
 Inestimable stones, unvalued gems, 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea." 
 
 Looking from the hill- side on the bay, I forgot 
 all about its beauties in the fancy of how many brave 
 deeds mio^ht have been witnessed from the hill-side 
 on which I was standing. From this spot a specta- 
 tor might have seen the entry of Drake's squadron 
 in Ehzabeth's reign, and have counted the men on 
 the decks — seen them work their guns upon the 
 town, and felt the earth shake to the booming of the 
 heavy artillery from the castles overhead. I suspect 
 that our tiny English ships, moving quickly about, 
 ran no great risk from the plunging fire of the Spanish 
 gunners, and that the affair was rather a one-sided 
 one. A far better show must have been the capture 
 of the galleons by Rooke and the Dutch, when five 
 of the huge treasure vessels of Spain were set on 
 fire, and eleven borne away by their captors. It 
 must have been a very gallant sight, and be sure that 
 
10 TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 the traces of that fight still lie under the waves of 
 Yigo Bay, and that there is a rich prize there well 
 worth the seeking for. 
 
 The rocky island which is seen from where I 
 stand, and which, with its sister island, not now 
 visible, commands the entrance to the bay, is Bayona; 
 and, high np on its southern face, I make out what 
 my guide assured me are the remains of ancient 
 fortifications. There is an infinitesimally small lite- 
 rary difiiculty connected with Bayona which caused 
 me to choose to ride along the sea-shore to Tuy, 
 rather than along the high-road. 
 
 The question is whether it is this Bayona to which 
 Milton refers in the lines — 
 
 " Where the great vision of the guarded mount 
 Looks towards ISTamancos and Bayona's hold ;" 
 
 or whether it is the little seaport of Bayona, lying a 
 few miles farther south. My own strong impression, 
 after seeing both places, is that Milton meant the 
 islands, '' Bayona's hold " being equivalent to 
 " Bayona's fortress," and being taken to signify 
 Yigo Bay, its castle and its fortified islands. I do 
 not see how such a place as Bayona, the town, could 
 even have been heard of by Milton ; while, when he 
 wrote ''L3'cidas," events had taken place near 
 " Bayona's hold" which, though they occurred some 
 fifty years before, would have made its geography 
 familiar enouo^h to British ears. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 11 
 
 I now turned my face southwards, and in a few 
 hours we saw the white houses of Bajona on one 
 side of a Httle bay. It is a place, as I had been led 
 to believe, of little importance, and my bird's-eye 
 view of it quite satisfying me, I left it to the right, 
 and, against the advice of my guide, made across the 
 mountains south-eastward, in order to strike the 
 high-road which I knew ran due north and south 
 from Vigo to Tuy. I trusted to a pocket compass 
 when I should have listened to the guide ; neverthe- 
 less, after a weary ride, and after entangling our- 
 selves more than once in a labyrinth of steep hills, 
 we did, at last, suddenly come upon the high-road. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the diligence from Vigo over- 
 took us, and I recognized two French gentlemen 
 inside whose acquaintance I had made at the hotel at 
 Vigo, and whom I had earnestly besought not to 
 entrust themselves to the abominable conveyance in 
 which they were imprisoned. They looked supremely 
 miserable as they passed by in a stifling cloud of dust, 
 jolted, jammed, and deafened by the rattle of the ill- 
 fitting box on wheels. 
 
 " That is not the fitting way for gentlemen to go 
 through the country," said the horse-dealer, ranging 
 his little mare up to my side. 
 
 *' You are right," I said, for the proverb says, 
 " ' A good man on a good horse is a servant to no 
 man.' " 
 
12 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 "It is a good proverb," said tlie horse-dealer, 
 '' though I never heard it before, for these gentlemen 
 who sahited your worship will soon find that they are 
 no longer their own masters ; they must eat, sleep, 
 get down and up, not when they please, but when 
 they are told by the coachman ; whereas the Cabal- 
 lero here does what he likes, stops where he pleases, 
 and eats and lodges when, where, and how he 
 chooses." 
 
 The horse-dealer could not better have summed 
 up the advantages of travelling on horseback in Por- 
 tugal. 
 
 We had rested once in the hills at a farmhouse, 
 and begged a little straw and water for our horses, 
 and now again we looked about for the bush hung 
 over the house door, the old conventional sign of an 
 inn. Houses of any kind were scarce, however, and 
 night was coming on, and we were within a few miles 
 of Tuy before we found what we wanted, a little one- 
 storied inn where we could bait the horses. 
 
 " The people in these parts," said my companion, 
 sententiously, " are a bad lot." 
 
 Certainly those we had had to do with to-day 
 were as surly and sullen a set of peasants as I ever 
 encountered ; but, as virtue is commonly reported to 
 reside in a rough exterior, I will not undertake to 
 endorse the opinion of the horse-dealer. 
 
 Asking for horse provender at the inn, we got 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 13 
 
 monosyllabic answers and black looks ; not a finger 
 was stirred to help us. Finally, we tied up our own 
 horses, and, discovering a secret store of corn, helped 
 them liberally thereto. The inn-keeper found his 
 tongue, as we were leaving, to ask an exorbitant 
 payment; bat, having given what we knew was 
 just, we would not yield an inch, whei^eupon the 
 whole family set up a chorus of execration. The 
 man, his wife, and apparently countless brothers, 
 sisters, and children, flocked into the stable to bellow, 
 and yell, and scream in all keys at us. Amid this 
 fearful outcry we composedly mounted our horses, 
 and charged through the family at a fair cavalry trot. 
 The enemy was routed, but re-formed outside the 
 gate, and fired a parting volley of abuse as we rode 
 off*; whereupon the horse-dealer, losing the temper 
 and equanimity which he had hitherto preserved, 
 turned short round, and, standing up in his stirrups, 
 raised his right hand threateningly, and, spurring his 
 mare hither and thither in his wrath in front of the 
 hostile lines, execrated and defied them. 
 
 So, it is related, did that redoubtable Moorish 
 champion, lbn-1-Walid, in like hostile and' defiant 
 manner, prick forth upon his charger before the 
 long-drawn lines of Christian warriors, and, by the 
 mere vigour of his speech and fierceness of his 
 gesture, carry consternation into the ranks of the 
 Christian host. 
 
14 TRAVELS IN POETUGAL. 
 
 The Moorisli cliampiou, however, had the advan- 
 tage over the horse-dealer in this respect, for the 
 latter seemed to carry no consternation whatever 
 into the ranks of the inn-keeper's family ; and the 
 encounter might have lasted far into the night, if I 
 had not gently led away my champion by the arm. 
 We rode off, but it was some time ere he recovered 
 his serenity. He had, however, given me an oppor- 
 tunity of learning that a horse-dealer in Galicia, like 
 persons of the same profession in England, excels all 
 his countrymen in his command of strong language. 
 
 The Galician peasant is, in truth, an uncouth 
 being ; but he can take a certain amount of polish. 
 It is a good material. The Galician is the Auvergnat 
 of the Peninsula, and especially of Portugal. Of a 
 hundred men-servants, coachmen, grooms, porters, 
 and water-carriers, in the larger towns of Portugal, 
 ninety-nine are Galicians. The rusticity, awkward- 
 ness, and slowness of the Galician have become pro- 
 verbial. Of an ill-bred man the Portuguese say all 
 when they say, " What a Galician ! " A coarse ex- 
 pression is a ^^ Gallegada'' — a Galicianism. The 
 epithet ''Galician" is even used as an equivalent of 
 wild, common, or uncultivated : the crab-apple is, 
 with the Portuguese, the Galician apple ; the common 
 cabbage of Portugal, which grows a yard or more in 
 height, is the *' Gouve Gallega " — the Galician cab- 
 bage ; and so forth* 
 
TBAVELS m PORTUGAL. 15 
 
 I remember once, in Lisbon, seeing an exceed- 
 ingly pretty young Spanish lady, the prima donna of 
 a Zarzuela troupe, assume the character of a 
 Galician servant with great success. The Zarzuela 
 actors are chartered buffoons, by no means tied down 
 by any of the traditions or prescriptions of the 
 legitimate drama. Their only object is to entertain ; 
 and they sing, dance, and declaim their burlesque 
 operettas with the greatest spirit. On this particular 
 occasion, however, the piece dragged; the audience 
 would not be amused; the songs were stale, the 
 dances old, the dialogue known by heart — when 
 suddenly, with true histrionic inspiration, the pretty 
 prima donna advanced to the foot-lights, and began 
 a serio-comic remonstrance with the audience in the 
 character of a Galician servant who has been found 
 fault with. 
 
 It was really an admirable improvisation. As 
 she came forward, her step lost the graceful firm- 
 ness of the true Zarzuela dancer; her movements 
 became stiff, angular, and slouching; her voice 
 changed the quick ring of the Andalusian tongue for 
 the drawl of the Galician brogue ; her face assumed 
 the semi-idiotic stare of a stupid servant. The effect 
 was magical. We all had our Galician servant ; we 
 all recognized that drawl, that slouch, and that 
 expression. In theatrical phrase, it brought the 
 house down. After this, the piece went on 
 
16 TRAVELS IN FOBTUGAR 
 
 swimmingly; and if, for a moment, the audience 
 seemed not sufficiently responsive to the efforts of 
 the actors, one look of remonstrance, in character, 
 from the fair actress, or one of those familiar 
 gestures, was enough to bring back its gaiety and 
 its attention in an instant. 
 
 ISTow, all this is one side of the picture. If the 
 Galician is rough, he is honest ; if he is a boor, he is 
 a faithful one. Better men-servants can hardly be 
 found; clean, sober, attentive, good-tempered, and 
 hard-working, they very soon learn to accommodate 
 themselves to the ways and habits of the family. A 
 very little intercourse with better-manner^ed people 
 than themselves serves to rub off their native 
 asperities. They grow attached to masters who 
 treat them well, and it is common enough for a 
 Galician servant to grow white-headed in faithful 
 service with the master who engaged him as a boy. 
 
 It was quite dark before we reached Tuy, and 
 therefore we had to put up at the inn there for the 
 night; having travelled no more than nine or ten 
 leagues, in a straight line, since daybreak. 
 
 At Tuy I had not, at any rate, to begin any 
 sort of commissariat troubles. Almost everywhere 
 in Spain there is good bread, and Tuy is celebrated 
 for its hams and for its wine. 
 
 When the tired and hungry traveller in Portugal 
 is nearing his resting-place for the night, two 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 17 
 
 thoughts sufficiently prosaic are apt to engross his 
 attention — his board and his bed. As to the former, 
 there is room for speculation. There is immense 
 variety ; he may arrive late at night, and find black 
 bread, sour wine, and sourer looks. On the other 
 hand, his senses may be pleasantly assailed, as he 
 crosses the threshold of his inn, by the steam of the 
 simmering stew ; and he may be gladdened by 
 friendly looks, and a kind invitation to partake of 
 the family supper. 
 
 As to the other point — his bed — let the traveller 
 not speculate. Here there is no variety. A Penin- 
 sular bedroom is a fearful thing, A door that will 
 not fasten, windows that were never intended to 
 open, a floor, through the chinks of which the mules 
 and horses, which invariably have their lodging 
 beneath, can be seen and heard, and an atmosphere 
 composed of the emanations of their stables. A 
 bed, of which it is enough to say that the expe- 
 rienced traveller will instantly throw all its cover- 
 ings to the further end of the room, and recline upon 
 it involved in his own cloak, plaids, or rugs. 
 
 Tuy possesses a small Gothic cathedral, which, 
 so far as I could judge from the outside, is of very 
 early date. The building is remarkable for its 
 enormous solidity, and the small size of the windows 
 and their height from the ground. The original 
 work is pure Romanesque, pointing to a date early 
 
 2 
 
18 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 in the twelftli century; a period when some fears 
 might be entertained of an irruption of the Saracens, 
 and Christians might look to having to defend them- 
 selves on a sudden. I was disappointed at not being 
 able to get inside the cathedral, which promised 
 from its exterior to be interesting. Gothic buildings 
 are so scarce in Portugal that one hardly likes to 
 leave one behind unvisited on the confines of that 
 kingdom. 
 
• *•• 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Spanish and Portuguese on the Frontier Line — Travel Southward-^ 
 Banlcs of Minho — Caminha — Sea Coast — Hospitable Farmer — 
 Ghost Stories — The Lobis-homem ; a Grisly Tale — Farm Work in 
 Northern Portugal — Land Tenure and Peasant Farms — Undts- 
 crihed Druidical Remains — A District Peopled hy Women — Anec- 
 dote in Testimony of their Good Conduct — Timoleon of Cosse. 
 
 There are few tilings which seem so strange to a 
 British traveller, the boundary of whose country is 
 the sea, and who has, fortunately, no experience of 
 arbitrary frontier lines, as to see how an invisible 
 line of demarcation can as completely separate one 
 nation from another, so far as any identity of 
 manners and customs is concerned, as long miles of 
 ocean or impassable mountain ranges. 
 
 The Spanish town of Tuy is divided only by the 
 river Minho from the Portuguese town of Yalenca. 
 Looked at by the traveller going southwards, the 
 houses of the two towns seem to form but one. A 
 good swimmer would cross from the Spanish to the 
 Portuguese bank in a few minutes ; a stone thrown 
 from the streets of Tuy might fall among the houses 
 of Yalen9a. And yet, though they are such near 
 
20 TRAVELS IX PORTUGAL, 
 
 neighbours, tlie inhabitants of either town are^ in 
 customs, habits, manners, and dress, almost as dis- 
 tinct as the people of Dover and those of Calais. 
 What makes the present distinction the more re- 
 markable is, that it is almost certain that the races 
 are identical. Perhaps it would be safer to say that 
 they contain the same constituents, though probably 
 in different proportions. So nearly identical, indeed, 
 are they, that the frontier line of Portugal and 
 Galicia shifted continually during the Middle Ages. 
 
 The reason why Portuguese life flows up to 
 Yalen^a, and no further, and why Spanish life is 
 suddenly arrested at Tuy, is of course easy enough 
 to find. If the people of the one town had had free 
 access to those of the other, and had bought and 
 sold with them ; if the old men and women had had 
 full liberty of gossiping with each other; if the 
 youths of one town could have wooed the maidens 
 of the other; — then it would have been different. 
 But to all this there have always been two bar- 
 riers — the conscription and the customs duties. To 
 cross the frontier, it is necessary to be provided with 
 a pass, and all who do so cross are, of course, sub- 
 jected to examination for contraband goods. It is 
 these restrictions, acting through many hundred 
 years, which have worked the results we see, in spite 
 of race and in spite of propinquity. 
 
 At those points where the Portuguese and Spanish 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 21 
 
 races are conterminous, tlie Portuguese is, at least 
 as far as my observation goes, the better looking, 
 better dressed, and better mannered of the two. 
 Wowhere is this so conspicuous as on the Minho. 
 The contrast here, however, is heightened by the 
 fact, that the Portuguese of Eatre Douro e Minho — 
 the province, that is, lying between the Douro and the 
 Minho — are as far superior in the above respects to 
 other PortuQ^uese as the Galicians fall short — in the 
 same matters — of men of the other provinces of 
 Spain. 
 
 Leaving Yalenca early in the morning, we followed 
 the course of the Minho to the sea, passing on the 
 way the fortified town of Villa Nova da Cerveira, 
 and the little harbour and town of Caminha, sur- 
 rounded by flats and marshes, with its outlying 
 island fortress ; then, again striking southward by 
 the sea- shore, through a half, cultivated region which 
 in former times was a Royal forest, we reached a 
 gloomy-looking fortress, close to the sea; the first 
 of a series which continues along the whole coast- 
 line of the province of the Minho. 
 
 Towards nightfall we overtook a farmer on, horse- 
 back, and when, after riding on in friendly conversa- 
 tion with him for a mile or so, I asked him how far 
 off I might be from an inn and shelter for the night, 
 he good-humouredly laughed at the idea of my con- 
 descending to put np at any place nearer than Vianna. 
 
22 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 On my telling liim that I was by no means particu- 
 lar, and tliat my guide's horse was too tired for 
 further travelling, he drew up his horse to a stand- 
 still, and looked hard at me. 
 
 " There is a house about one mile from here," 
 said the farmer ; ''you will get poor fare and poor 
 shelter, but none better, I think, on this side of 
 Vianna. I will show you the way," he added. 
 
 So saying, he trotted on, and soon turning aside 
 from the main road, guided us along a vile ox-cart 
 road, the worst of all roads to ride over in a bad 
 light. For about a mile we travelled up a narrow 
 valley. On each side of the road grew pollarded 
 oaks and chestnuts, whose branches were twisted so 
 as to join overhead; and on these trees were trained 
 vines, whose foliage, though it was only May, already 
 gave a dense shade. 
 
 Presently this narrow road opened out into a 
 square walled enclosure, which was also perfectly 
 embowered and shaded by vines, carried on stout 
 rafters of wood, the whole supported by the side 
 walls, and by five or six stone pillars in the centre ; 
 so that the place was like a huge room, the ceiling of 
 which was of vine leaves. It was, in fact, the court- 
 yard of a good-sized farm-house. 
 
 The farmer stopped at the door of the house 
 which opened on to this yard. 
 
 *' Why," I said to him, " this is a private house." 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 23 
 
 "It is tlie house of your Excellency," said the 
 farmer, as he stood uncovered, with the true cour- 
 teous hospitality of an old-fashioned Portuguese. 
 
 It was, in truth, his own house; and presently a 
 man appeared, to take our horses, a dog came and 
 licked the master's hand, children issued from the 
 house and greeted their father, and the wife stood in * 
 the doorway and welcomed us. 
 
 " Cea ! cea!" the farmer called out cheerfully, 
 which, interpreted, is supper, a pleasant sound to a 
 belated traveller. ''Here is a gentleman who has 
 eaten nothing since he was in Spain." 
 
 Looking round the yoom we entered, I saw much 
 that I should have seen in a farmer's kitchen at 
 home : the old single-barrelled gun slung on the 
 wall, the English willow-pattern plates ranged on 
 the shelves, the well-polished high-backed chairs, the 
 sides of bacon hanging from the rafters. What was 
 not like England was the quaint collection of coloured 
 prints of sacred subjects — pious daubs, fearful to the 
 artistic eye — which hung about the walls. 
 
 Presently our supper was on the table, and let the 
 reader take note that the table was not decked with 
 a cloth " coarse, but of snowy whiteness." Indeed, 
 for the matter of that, we did not even indulge in 
 plates, but before each of us was placed a good-sized 
 earthenware bowl and a wooden spoon. And if the 
 reader should ask of what the meal consisted, let 
 
24 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 him know that there was one dish and a remove. 
 The dish, Sopa secca, hterally '' dry soup," made of 
 wheaten bread, beef, cabbage, and mint, almost a 
 national dish in Portugal ; and the remove, BacaU 
 liauy dried codfish, boiled — which is quite a national 
 dish — and the man who objects to such a bill of fare, 
 must, indeed, be an epicure. 
 
 I praised the fish for its tenderness, and my 
 hostess explained to me that to make it so it was 
 essential that the dried fish — which, indeed, is often, 
 when cooked, as hard as a board — should be pre- 
 viously soaked for exactly eighteen hours in running 
 water. 
 
 Then the host filled me a large tumbler of 
 country wine, his own vintage, assuring me that 
 wine never tastes so well as after Bacalhau, It is 
 a very remarkable drink, this '' green wine," as it is 
 called. I have tasted the country wines of many 
 lands, but never yet such a one as this. Perfectly 
 sound, but possessing a fruitiness, astringency, and 
 sharpness enough to take one's breath away, it has 
 yet little more alcoholic strength than claret. So 
 full is it of what may be called vinous matter, that 
 it is hardly ever clear; it is apparently, however, 
 not liked the less for being quite thick and muddy. 
 To an exhausted man, on a summer's day, I know 
 no greater restorative than a full draught of this 
 Minho wdne. 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 25 
 
 When we liacl eaten and drunk, the dishes were 
 pushed " below the salt," and' one or two of the 
 farm servants fell to on the plentiful remainder; whilst 
 we, wrapping ourselves in our cloaks, and leaning 
 our elbows on the table, lighted our cigarettes, and 
 proceeded to hold grave discourse. 
 
 Knowing that my host must be curious to be 
 told where I came from, and the purpose of my 
 travelling, I thought it due to his hospitality to 
 offer him a sketch of my proceedings, in which I 
 was assisted by the horse-dealer, who, after the 
 manner of such squires, added fancy details illus- 
 trative of the magnificence, wisdom, and so forth, 
 of his master. I ended by saying that I was going 
 to travel through Portugal at my pleasure, and to 
 see whatever was curious, or worthy to be seen by a 
 foreigner. 
 
 The farmer nodded his head slowly once or 
 twice, as I finished. The idea was too strange 
 to him to be taken in at once ; at last he got firm 
 hold of it. 
 
 *' Your country, I dare say, is very different from 
 Portugal," he said. 
 
 ''Very different," I answered. *' You may 
 understand how much so when I tell you that our 
 farmers neither grow maize nor make wine ? " 
 
 " Coitadinhos ! " (poor devils ! ) said the man ; 
 " then what do they eat and drink ? " 
 
26 TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 " Well," I said, " it is not so difficult as you 
 may think. We can make all sorts of things in 
 England, and sell them to all countries, and then 
 buy what we want from them. For instance — there 
 is the shirt you wear — it was made in England, and 
 that gun, it was made there, too ; so, you see, if we 
 wanted to eat maize, or drink wine, we should have 
 something to offer in exchange." 
 
 " Wonderful! " cried the farmer, quite delighted. 
 It was clear that he had never been lectured before 
 on political economy. 
 
 We talked on many matters. At last I thought 
 of questioning the farmer on a subject which has 
 always had a great interest for me — ^the super- 
 stitious beliefs and tales of the peasantry. 
 
 I have long held a theory, that wherever the 
 Romans have left permanent marks of their stay, 
 there the superstitions have the peculiar gloomy 
 stamp of the legendary mysteries of ancient Italy. 
 If this is true anywhere, it must be true in Portugal, 
 where these people have left their vestiges not only 
 in the language, which is nearer to Latin than any 
 other known tongue, but even in the manner of 
 cultivating the soil, which, to this day, is done in 
 accordance with the precepts of Cato and Columella. 
 
 The type of Latin legend to which I refer, is 
 that well-known and most grisly and hideous of 
 all ghost stories, the tale of the soldier in Petronius 
 
TBAVELS m PORTUGAL. 27 
 
 Arbiter. Now the belief in trie " Lohis-liomem " is 
 very prevalent in parts of JSTortbern Portugal. It 
 is the legend of the Loup-garou — the Wehrwolf — 
 the periodical transformation of human beings into 
 wolves, with all the savage instincts of that animal. 
 It is a superstition whose existence in many 
 countries has been too well investigated to need 
 further description from me; suffice it to say, 
 that nowhere is this belief invested with so many 
 peculiar and gloomy circumstances as in Portugal. 
 
 I began to sound the farmer on the subject of 
 folk-lore and popular superstitions rather cautiously, 
 for people are apt to be reticent in talking of these 
 matters to strangers, but the farmer was not shy 
 at all. 
 
 '^ Yes," he said ; " he had known some strange 
 things to happen, and in that very neighbourhood, 
 too." 
 
 " Would he tell me what ? " 
 
 "Well, he would," he said, "and with great 
 pleasure ; he would tell me one of the most singu- 
 lar things he ever heard of; but," looking at me 
 doubtfully, "you will hardly bring yourself to 
 believe it ; and, to tell the truth, no more should 
 I, if it had not been related to me by one who saw 
 it — no other than my own brother's son. 
 
 "You must know," said the farmer, with a 
 grave air, "that not many miles from this is a 
 
28 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 river, in which are vast quantities of fisli. Now, 
 every year there comes a stranger to this river; 
 he stands upon the bank, and holding in his hand 
 a magical fly — itma mosca encantada — tied to the 
 end of a very long thread, he blows the fly away 
 from him as far as a man can throw a stone; it 
 falls upon the water, and no sooner does it touch 
 the surface than a fish seizes it, and the stranger 
 draws both fly and fish ashore by the thread which 
 he holds in his hand. Now, what do you think of 
 that ? " 
 
 My host had given me this fancy description of 
 fly-fishing with so very serious a face, that I was 
 almost afraid to laugh, till I observed a sympa- 
 thetic twinkle in his own eyes ; l^ut he nodded 
 towards his servants as if to hint that I was not 
 to betray the secret of the mysterious fisherman 
 to them. 
 
 Then the farmer, perceiving that I was an atten- 
 tive and by no means a captious hstener, began 
 another story. 
 
 '' We are all good Christians here, and ought not 
 to fear the malice of the evil spirit ; nevertheless, 
 we know that power is given him sometimes to 
 work mischief in some mysterious manner, which all 
 the priests put together do not understand. In 
 proof of this, I will tell you of an event that 
 happened not twenty years ago ; and, moreover, I 
 
TRAVELS IN POETUGAL. 29 
 
 was myself a witness of wliat I am going to relate, 
 for I was then a young man, living at a farm near 
 Cabrasam, among the mountains of the Estrica, 
 which is, as you know, as wild a country as any in 
 Portugal." 
 
 The farmer filled up his own and my glass, and 
 his wife and children and the servants gathered 
 round us and stood, with solemn faces, to listen to a 
 tale which they had probably already heard more 
 than once. 
 
 " The farmer with whom I served was a young 
 man, and his wife a young woman. He had just 
 come on to the farm. Two or three other men 
 besides myself worked with him, but there was no 
 other woman in the place than his wife. Now, she 
 being about to give birth to a child, desired to get 
 another woman into the house, to do such work as 
 she would shortly not be able to perform herself. 
 So the master went about the country to engage a 
 woman, but, for some reason or other, he could not 
 succeed. As time pressed, he sent me to the nearest 
 town, Ponte de Lima, with directions to inquire 
 along the way, and engage the very first likely look- 
 ing young woman I should meet with. 
 
 " I started next morning before daylight, and 1 
 had not gone more than a mile on the road before I 
 saw, sitting by the wayside, one of the queerest look- 
 ing girls my eyes ever fell on. She was wrapped up, 
 
so TRAVELS IN POBTUGAR 
 
 head and all, in a brown cloak, sucli as we never see 
 in this part of the country. The sun had just risen, 
 and she was stretching out her hands as if to warm 
 them in its rays. The oddest thing about her was 
 that her hair was cut close to her head, like a man's, 
 j^ow, this is common enough with our women when 
 they get old and do not care to be troubled with long 
 hair ; but for a young and handsome girl like her to 
 be ' chamorra^ (crop-haired), was a thing I have 
 never seen before or since. So I stood still and 
 stared at her, like a fool as I was. 
 
 " 'Well, Santinho,' ^' said the girl, ' you are won- 
 dering to see me warm my hands in the sunbeams ? ' 
 
 " * I think you would get warm quicker,' I 
 answered, 'if you went on your way, instead of 
 sitting still in this cold wind.' 
 
 " ' And what if I am tired, as well as cold ? ' she 
 said, sharply. 
 
 " ' Have you been travelling all the night ? ' 
 
 " ' Indeed, I have,' said the girl, ' and many a one 
 before that.' 
 
 '' ' Then you come from a long way off ? ' 
 
 '' ' I come from Tarouca, in the mountains of 
 Beira, and that is a long journey from here.' 
 
 '' ' And if it is not a secret, what have you como 
 so far from home for ? ' 
 
 * Literally, " Little Saint " — a common form of address, among 
 the peasantry, from one stranger to another. 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, 81 
 
 ** ' No secret at all/ she replied. ' My name is 
 Joana, and I am looking for a place as servant at a 
 farm. Do you know any one who requires one ? * 
 
 " JSTow, it struck me here was the very thing I 
 was looking for — a strong, hearty-looking girl, who 
 wished to be a servant ; so I told her I was out with 
 the object of engaging suck a person as herself, and 
 if she would come with me to my master's, she 
 might find the place she wanted. The girl expressed 
 her readiness, and we started homewards. 
 
 " I left her outside the house while I went in. 
 The farmer did not much like the idea of having so 
 strange a being for a servant ; but his wife, hearing 
 that she was a ' chamorra,' insisted upon engaging 
 her — for we have a saying that ' chamorras' make 
 the best of workers. 
 
 " Very soon after this the child was born, and the 
 new girl took the mistress's- place — cooked for us 
 and so forth. 
 
 '' ISTow, the newly-born infant was a remarkably 
 fine and healthy one. Everybody said so, except 
 one old woman — a neighbour — who was thought to 
 be a ' wise woman.' This person looked rather put 
 out the moment she saw the child, and said it was 
 bewitched. The father and mother laughed heartily 
 at this, seeing how well the child looked. Then the 
 woman said she was mistaken if the child had not 
 the devirs mark somewhere on its skin ; and. sure 
 
32 TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 enough, so it had — a mark on its shoulder, exactly 
 as if the pattern of a small crescent or half-moon 
 had been pricked upon the skin with a pin. Then 
 we all began to get frightened, but the woman said 
 there was no cause for alarm, except during the time 
 of the new moon, and then the child must be 
 watched all the night through. 
 
 " When the old woman passed out of the house, 
 the new servant was sitting on the floor with her 
 brown cloak pulled right over her face, and though 
 the old woman spoke to her, she made her no answer, 
 pretending to be asleep. 
 
 '' Nothing particular occurred for some months. 
 The servant, Joana, was very useful in the house, 
 and both master and mistress congra-tulated them- 
 selves on having engaged a ' chamorra ' to work. 
 However, we, her fellow- servants, did not much like 
 her. She was very sharp in her speech ; and when- 
 ever she was angry, her eyes, which were long and 
 narrow in shape, seemed almost to emit fire and 
 gave her a terribly savage aspect. However, when 
 not out of temper, she was a handsome girl. She 
 seldom spoke much, but she very soon got into the 
 confidence of her master and mistress, and one day, 
 when the latter mentioned to her what had been told 
 her by the old woman, she said — 
 
 *' ' Ah, yes ! I have known it a long time, but I 
 was afraid to tell you. Children with that mark grow 
 
TRAVELS m rOBTUGAL, 33 
 
 into lohis'liomems before they get to be sixteen, unless 
 something is done to stop it.' 
 
 '^ ' And what can be done ? ' said my mistress. 
 
 " 'You must cover the evil mark with the blood 
 of a white pigeon, strip the child naked, and lay it 
 on a blanket on the mountain side the very first time 
 the moon rises in the heavens after midnight. Then 
 the moon will draw the mark up through the blood, 
 just as she draws the waters of the sea up at full 
 tide, and the child will be saved.' 
 
 ** The farmer and his wife agreed to do this, to 
 save their child from becoming a lohis-homem, and 
 it happening to be a new moon late in the night, a' 
 day or two afterwards, the needful preparations were 
 made, and when the night came the child was laid 
 out on the mountain side near the house, while the 
 moon was still below the horizon. This done, we 
 all returned to the house, for it was essential that 
 no eye should be upon the child until the moon had 
 risen. The farmer began to be uneasy, thinking 
 that there might be wolves near, but the men reas- 
 sured him, saying that a wolf had not been seen in 
 the neighbourhood for many years. Nevertheless, 
 he loaded his gun, putting into it, for want of other 
 ammunition, five or six rusty nails. 
 
 '' He had hardly done so when, to our horror, we 
 heard the most piercing screams from where the 
 child was lying. In an instant we had all rushed 
 
 3 
 
34 TRAVELS IN FOBTUOAL. 
 
 out — the screams increasing as we neared tlio spot. 
 At this very instant the moon rose, and wo saw a 
 huge brown wolf standing over the body of the child, 
 his fangs bloody and his eyes looking like fire. Seeing 
 us come up he slunk off, but the farmer fired at him 
 before he could reach the wood close by, and he fell 
 and rolled over. I ran up to finish him with the 
 heavy stick which I had in my hand, but I coulci 
 only give him one stroke before he rose to his feet 
 and made off. The blow was a heavy one, and struck 
 him on the foreleg, and he went off into the wood, 
 howling and limping. 
 
 '' We found the poor child quite dead ; its throat 
 was frightfully torn by the wolfs teeth, and the 
 blanket was soaked with blood. 
 
 '' Now, it was noticed almost immediately that 
 the girl, Joana, had not been seen since the child had 
 been put out, nor was she in the house when we got 
 back. Then for the first time did the truth flash 
 upon us — the woman had been an accursed lobis^ 
 homem^ and had murdered the child, and in wound- 
 ing the wolf we had in truth wounded the girl who 
 had assumed his form. The next morning we fol- 
 lowed the traces of the wounded wolf, and, inside 
 the wood, not ten paces from where he had been 
 seen to enter it, we found Joana lying on the ground 
 covered with blood. She immediately began to ex- 
 plain to us that she had crept into the wood when 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 35 
 
 we had left the child, fearing that some mischief 
 might happen to him ; that she had heard screams 
 and had run towards the child in the darkness ; that 
 just as she was getting to the outside of the wood 
 the moon rose, she saw us coming, saw the wolf run 
 towards her, heard the gun fired, immediately felt 
 herself to be wounded in the side, and fell to the 
 ground, where she had lain ever since. 
 
 " Of course we knew that these were lies sug- 
 gested by the devil, so we sent for the priest, but 
 before he came she had died. They buried her where 
 she lay, and the ' wise woman,' who came to look at 
 lier, said she had the mark of the lohis-liomem on her 
 breast quite plain, and was evidently a servant of the 
 Evil one. The woman said that if she had seen the 
 girl's eyes she could have told at once what she was, 
 for the hbis-homeins all get to have the long, narrow 
 eyes and savage look of the wolf. She also explained 
 to us that if a lohis-Jiomem can murder and drink the 
 blood of a newly-born child, the enchantment ceases, 
 and they are lohis-liomems no longer." 
 
 " And what did the priest say ?" I asked. 
 
 *'He said," replied the farmer, "that wo were 
 fools to have had anything to do with a woman 
 from Tarouca, for it was a nest of witches and war- 
 locks." 
 
 '' And you are quite sure this girl was a real 
 
36 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAR 
 
 " I never doubted it for a moment. Did I not 
 see Joana's own eyes in tlie wolf, as lie turned round 
 when I struck him ? How can I doubt ? Besides/' 
 said the farmer, after a pause, "there was the mark 
 of a heavy blow on her right arm — exactly where I 
 struck the wolf. She never accounted for that." 
 
 The next morning at daybreak we were all afoot, 
 late hours being by no means compatible with the 
 economy of a Portuguese farm. A piece of " broa '* 
 (black bread) and a drink of fresh milk was break- 
 fast enough. I asked the farmer to let me accom- 
 pany him afield. The farm consisted, as I should 
 judge, of not more than twenty-five acres, all in arable 
 land, and every inch of it cultivated and cared for 
 like a garden. He had five men and three women 
 labourers, and he kept five yoke of oxen. The farm 
 was divided into many little fields, each of them 
 formed terrace-wise on the hill sides, and bounded 
 either by a streamlet or by a row of vine plants, 
 borne aloft on stout trellis-work, or trailing up the 
 limbs of low-growing oak or chestnut trees. Here 
 and there a dozen olive trees formed a little grove, 
 or a spreading, oak-like cork tree stood at the corner 
 of a field. 
 
 There was plenty for the farmer to see to. Some 
 of the men were set to turn the water on to the fields, 
 and guide it with their hoes over the roots of the 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 37 
 
 growing maize-crop ; others to lioe up tlie eartli be- 
 tween the young plants. The women cut grass for 
 the cattle with quaint little reaping-hooks ; a pair 
 of oxen was yoked to the cart, and went to the hill 
 side to cut gorse for the stabling of the cattle. 
 A prettier rustic scene never was — with the rich 
 green of the crops, the abundant shade of the trail- 
 ing vines, and the drip and murmur of the trickling 
 waters, joined to the chorus of singing birds. A 
 man might have fancied himself carried back eighteen 
 hundred years, and transported to that famous farm 
 among the Sabine hills. Barring the maize, I fancy 
 Horace would have seen nothing outlandish on this 
 Portuguese farm. The ploughs, the ox-carts, the 
 sickles, the pruning-hooks, are of the ancient Latin 
 patterns ; and all the operations of farming abso- 
 lutely the same. 
 
 The farmer told me that the land was his own, 
 and had been his father's and grandfather's ; being 
 offorado, or held as a copyhold estate, on payment 
 of a trifling rent of one or two shillings to a nominal 
 landlord. But so absolutely was the land his own, 
 he told me, that even if he were to fail to pay the 
 rent for several years, the landlord would not be en- 
 titled to re-enter, but only to sue him for debt ; so 
 that, as tenant or holder, he is, to all intents and 
 purposes, the actual proprietor of the estate. 
 
 This is the tenure by which a great deal of the 
 
38 TRAVELS IN TOUTVOAL. 
 
 land of Nortli Portugal is held. It is, of course, 
 not conducive to liigli farming ; but it results in this, 
 that the length and breadth of the land is cultivated 
 like a market-garden. The extreme sub-division of 
 land which takes place in France, where there is also 
 peasant proprietorship, and which is so incompatible 
 with good farming, is obviated here by the fact that, 
 on the death of the holder of the estate, it is not 
 divided among the children, but devolves upon 
 one of them only, at the father's option. The 
 legatee has then to pay his brothers and sisters 
 their portions of the estate, which are fixed by 
 law. 
 
 This system has created, in the Northern Pro- 
 vinces of the kingdom, a population of hardy, inde- 
 pendent, contented yeomen. There are no great 
 territorial possessions, no accumulation of agricul- 
 tural v/ealth in one man's hands ; but then, again,, 
 there is no pauperism. If we cross into some of the 
 Southern Provinces, we find, however, the reverse 
 of this picture of prosperity and content — great 
 estates ill-farmed, rich absentee landlords, and 
 crowds of ill-looking, poverty-stricken, and woe- 
 begone day-labourers. 
 
 It was in riding along with my host towards 
 Vianna that he gave me the particulars of the tenure 
 of his estate. 
 
 The day being hot, and our ride a long one, we 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 89 
 
 got dov/n at a wine-house, and had a delicious drink 
 of country wine. 
 
 If it had not been for an accident, I should have 
 missed seeing a curious sight. I had been talking 
 to the farmer of the number of castles along the sea- 
 shore, and he maintained that they were built to 
 protect the Portuguese littoral from the attacks of 
 the Spaniards. 
 
 This, in point of fact, is not the case ; but, of 
 course, I did not dispute the assertion. 
 
 The landlord of the wine-shop confirmed the 
 farmer's opinion, and added, in corroboration of it, 
 that there was a building of stone, some little w^ay 
 inland, which was expressly made to light a beacon 
 fire upon, whenever the Spaniards came in sight. 
 As it was not half-an-hour's walk, I immediately got 
 a boy to guide me, and started for the place, after 
 having taken a thankful leave of the hospitable 
 farmer. 
 
 To my great surprise I found a very perfect 
 specimen of a Cromlech, or so-called Druidical altar ; 
 a number of flat stones, set in a semicircle open to 
 the west, and covered at top by either one or two 
 (I forget which) huge slabs of stone. It was large 
 enough to hold twenty or thirty men, and high 
 enough for a tall man to stand upright in. 
 
 It could clearly never have served for a beacon 
 or a watch station, situated as it is on low-lying 
 
40 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 land with hills rising north and south of it, and 
 commanding therefore only a glimpse of the sea, 
 and it would itself be visible from only a small 
 extent of country. 
 
 The Cromlech stands in the centre of a wood, 
 and I was therefore unable to see whether there 
 were any tumuli near at hand. These remains, from 
 their size and general appearance, are unquestionably 
 such as we commonly call Druidical. Such remains 
 have been found in Northern Spain, but I have never 
 yet seen any record of their existence in Portugal ; 
 nor, in my travels in the country, have I ever come 
 across another instance of such a stone monument. 
 
 For the benefit of any future traveller, I will add 
 that the Cromlech lies about a quarter of a mile north- 
 east of the bridge at Ancora, which again is about 
 ten or twelve miles north of the town of Yianna ; 
 and, unless I have forgotten, the boy who showed 
 me to it, said it was known in the neighbourhood as 
 " A Casa do Diabo " — the Devil's house. 
 
 Travelling on southwards we soon came to a 
 range of steep mountains, running parallel to the 
 coast line, between which and the hills passes the 
 high road. On either side of the road are fields of 
 great fertility. The whole conformation of the land 
 has a general resemblance to the Underclifi* in the 
 Isle of Wight ; but what is most singular about the 
 district is, that its population seems to be chiefly 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 41 
 
 composed of women, and, let it be remarked, of 
 remarkably handsome, smartly-dressed women. The 
 explanation is that the male owners of nearly all 
 the pretty little tree- shaded cottages on the hill 
 side are artisans, who, enjoying the monopoly in 
 Portugal of the trade in stucco-A\rorking, spread 
 themselves over the whole kingdom and earn very 
 high wages, but are only very seldom able to sit 
 down by their own hearthstones. 
 
 Now the uncharitable reader may expect that the 
 ladies of this community, in the continued absence ot 
 their natural guardians, would to some degree not re- 
 semble their neighbours across the Minho, whom Lord 
 Carnarvon in somewhat pompous phrase styles " the 
 virtuous but unbenevolent Galicians." This, I am 
 glad to report, is not the case. Their good looks 
 and smart appearance co-exist with the best of cha- 
 racters. Indeed, they have earned for themselves, in 
 this respect, a somewhat formidable reputation. A 
 long time ago, a lady of this district, feeling herself 
 to be aggrieved by the addresses of a person, who 
 presumably omitted some of the formulas proper to 
 such advances, called a meeting of her female friends, 
 who proceeded forthwith to execute so complete a 
 vengeance upon this unfortunate person, that the 
 deed has acquired for the ladies of this district a 
 sobriquet which commemorates at once their virtue 
 and the nature of their revenge. 
 
42 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 My Galician guide, y/1io had beguiled tlie way 
 with this anecdote in illustration of the morality of 
 the neighbourhood, now plainly gave it to be under- 
 stood that, having eaten nothing since five o'clock 
 in the morning, he was both hungry and tjiirsty. 
 Agreeing with him on both points, I proposed that 
 we should stop at the first inn. Presently we came 
 to a hamlet a little off the road, but the only house 
 not a private one was a barber's, a circumstance 
 which roused a little indignation and some mirth on 
 the part of the horse-dealer. 
 
 " What can they want with barbers here," he 
 said, ** where only every tenth face wears a beard ?" 
 
 Perhaps business was slack on this account, for 
 the barber did not hesitate to deal in a jug of wine 
 and a loaf of bread. Then we went on, refreshed. 
 
 The trade of a barber is a thriving one all over 
 the Peninsula. If a village has three houses, one, 
 be sure, is a barber's. The sign is a basin ; some- 
 times, as theatre people say, '^practicable," and 
 dangling from a chain over the door; sometimes, 
 painted in vermilion on the whitewashed wall. 
 
 The Portuguese, like the Spaniard, is never full 
 dressed unless he is well shaved, and, imlike the 
 celebrated De Cosse, Duke of Brissac, he never 
 shaves himself; and, in truth, I would not under- 
 take to say, that the admirable motive which drove 
 the aforesaid peer to this daily task would, under any 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 43 
 
 circumstances of high rank or idleness, have similar 
 sway with the lazy Peninsular. " Timoleon cle 
 Cossc," the French noble was often heard to solilo- 
 quize of a morning, with the open razor in his hand : 
 '* God has made thee a gentleman, and the King has 
 made thee a duke. It is, nevertheless, right and fit 
 that thou shouldst have something to do ; therefore 
 thou shalt shave thyself." A conclusion which, from 
 similar premises, would never be arrived at in the 
 Peninsula, where the ruling axiom is — Never to do 
 for oneself what others can do for one. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Vianna — Costume and Loohs of the Women— Cheerfulness of the 
 Feojple — Their Dances ; their Improvised Singing — River Lima — 
 Unsupported Tradition — Funeral Customs — Surrounding Scenery 
 Overpraised — Raptures over Scenery maTce Poor Reading — Home 
 of Miranda, the Poet — Reflections on Ill-directed Travel, suggested 
 hy Misadventures of Two British Tourists — Abundant Traces of 
 the Moors — Wrong Construction put upon the Author's Motives — 
 Relief in Hidden Treasure — Stories in Proof — Precious Stones in 
 Portugal — The Crown Jewels ; the Braganza Diamond. 
 
 I LEFT Yianna, an uninteresting town, passing 
 over tlie curious bridge, said to be a mile and a 
 quarter in length, whicli crosses the ^broad estuary 
 formed by tlie river Lima. It was my first inten- 
 tion to keep the high road to Oporto; but this 
 road looked so uninviting that after travelling along 
 it some ten miles, till I reached a range of bare 
 hills whence I could still look back upon the town 
 of Yianna, and seeing in front of me a country that 
 did not promise to be more interesting, I turned 
 north-eastwards, towards Ponte de Lima, which 
 lies on the same river as Yianna, about ten or fifteen 
 miles above it, and I was rewarded by coming 
 upon a very rich and picturesque country. 
 
TRAVELS IK PORTUGAL. 45 
 
 It was a " festa," — a holiday — and the pea- 
 santry were all in their holiday dresses; the 
 women very gaily attired, with embroidered muslin 
 kerchiefs on their heads, over which is worn the 
 heavy, black Spanish-looking hat, with ornaments 
 of floss silk, made to curl and to look like a black 
 ostrich feather. The costume of the women varies 
 slightly in almost every parish of the kingdom ; but 
 it generally consists of an ample serge petticoat, 
 descending to the ankle, and gathered round the 
 waist into innumerable pleats, a close-fitting bodice 
 (either black or gaily-coloured) over a linen shirt 
 showing white on the shoulders and the arms, with 
 a bright-coloured kerchief, commonly red, or orange, 
 or blue, crossed over the breast. All this makes a 
 picturesque costume which well suits the comely, 
 buxom, black-haired peasant women of the Minho 
 Province, with their rich olive complexions and fine 
 eyes. The women have retained their national 
 dress, and in the remoter parts, the men also ; but 
 in many places the latter are less conservative, and 
 wear ivide-aiuaJce hats, trousers, and short jackets, 
 in lieu of the old national costume. 
 
 The women use their peculiar peasant jewellery 
 of ancient Moorish design, on feast days only. 
 Heavy necklaces of complicated pattern suspend 
 huge, heart-shaped lockets on their breasts ; in their 
 ears are heavy pendent earrings. One woman will 
 
'46 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 often wear three or four sucli necklaces of gold, of 
 a standard of not less than twenty carats ; and I 
 have been assured that many of the peasant women 
 carry about them not less than twenty or thirty 
 pounds worth of gold ornaments. 
 
 Coming from Galicia, where the natives are 
 so exceedingly boorish, I was much struck by the 
 kindly, cheerful manners of the people. In every 
 little hamlet by the road side — and the frequency of 
 such hamlets and the density of the population 
 are marvellous — in every village I passed to-day, 
 there was a gathering of the inhabitants : the men 
 busy with a game of bowls, the youths and girls 
 dancing, with a crowd of lookers-on ; the twanging 
 of guitars mingling pleasantly with the sound of 
 laughter and cheerful voices. 
 
 Up among the mountains, some kind of 
 " Bolero " is danced, that is, a '' pas de deux " 
 between a male and female dancer ; but in this part 
 of the country, I have seen only one kind of dance, 
 certainly a very singular one. Each person dances 
 by himself or herself, to a slow and monotonous jig 
 tune, following the person in front in a circle. The 
 music often accompanies — in the most literal sense 
 — the dancers : it is , generally a fiddle, and an 
 amusing sight it is to see the man who plays it 
 fiddling gravely away as he cuts the queer little 
 steps of the dance. There are usually one or 
 
TBAVELS m PORTUGAL. 47 
 
 two guitar players among the spectators, who 
 join the fiddle and make up an orchestra. 
 These monotonous dances will last for hours, the 
 tired dancers falling out and fresh ones taking 
 their places. 
 
 Often on a holiday evening, the villagers 
 assemble to listen to extemporary singing; one 
 lad will challenge another lad or maiden to sing 
 against him in alternate rhymed verse; or a 
 champion will saunter up, with his guitar, from a 
 neighbouring village, and throw down the gauntlet 
 to a whole hamlet. This is called singing ac desafio, 
 singing to a challenge. There is, of course, as in 
 Itahan extemporary recitation, some trust to the 
 performer's memory, and when his invention is 
 at fault, he may often interpolate some stock 
 rhyme; but as the Portuguese improvisor has to 
 find a rhyme to his opponent's verse, there must 
 be far less dependence on memory, and more on 
 quickness of fancy, than in Italy. The rule is, 
 as far as I can understand, that the singer who 
 begins, goes on plying the other with verses, to 
 which the second has to find rhymed answers ; 
 when he hesitates or stops, the bout is concluded, 
 the parts reversed, and the improvisation recom- 
 mences. 
 
 It must not be supposed that this feat is quite 
 so diilicult as it might appear. The verses are half 
 
48 TRAVELS IIT PORTUGAL. 
 
 sung, half recited, in a. peculiar, slow, drawling tone, 
 and plenty of time is given to find a ryhme in a 
 language like the Portuguese, which is very full oi 
 them. Moreover, practice makes perfect, and this 
 .alternate verse singing is to be heard all day among 
 the fields and hill sides of the Minho. The shep- 
 herd lad, keeping his flock on the hill, will serenade 
 his friend across the valley, perhaps a quarter of a 
 mile away. A girl cutting grass will shout out her 
 remarks to her lover, two fields from her, and these 
 two will go on singing to each other the live-long 
 day, like cicadas in the sunshine. I have heard a 
 man, when no companion was at hand, actually 
 whistle each second verse in a higher key, to re- 
 present, I presume, the sweet strains of some absent 
 mistress. 
 
 This alternate song is not common except in the 
 Northern Province of the Minho ; the most populous, 
 the most fertile, and the most beautiful province of 
 the kingdom. In the mountainous district of Beira, 
 the singing is of quite a different character ; and in 
 the poverty- strickea provinces of the south, there is 
 neither singing nor cause for singing. 
 
 I am not disposed to construct a theory to 
 account for this most curious custom ; but a man 
 given to theorize might easily build up a very 
 plausible one. It is difficult to convey an accurate 
 impression of the actual song, so utterly unlike any 
 
TRAVELS IN POUTUGAL. 49 
 
 kind of vocal music in use among civilized or un- 
 civilized men. The tone is a peculiar nasal drawl, 
 audible very far off, and, it must be admitted, very 
 mucli improved by distance. The verse is metrical 
 in a high degree, and often takes the form of a rough 
 hexameter. Considerable licence is allowed in the 
 number of feet, but I have heard ten or twenty con- 
 secutive lines which were as perfect hexameters as 
 Virgil ever wrote. Whatever licence is taken, a 
 dactyl and spondee invariably terminate the line. 
 Its original character was, I have no doubt, that of 
 To love song — one verse being chanted in a bass voice, 
 and the answering line coming in a higher key ; even 
 if two men or two women sing together, this diffe- 
 rence of key is maintained ; but it is as often, or 
 oflener, used for satirical purposes. The harvest 
 and the vintage are the times when the song can be 
 studied to most advantage, and then it is to be heard 
 in its full luxuriance and, it must be added, in its full 
 licentiousness. 
 
 It has often occurred to me, that the origin of this 
 Amoeboean song may be sought for among the Italian 
 nations which colonized Portugal. Looking to the 
 tenacity with which, as I have shown, the Minhotes 
 have kept to the old rules of husbandry of their 
 Eoman masters, to some of the old Italian myths, 
 and to the Latin tongue, might it not be that they 
 retained as well, in this ancient form of sonp-, 
 
50 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 anotlier vestige of tlieir first civilizers ? To those 
 who have heard the Minhote peasant chanting (for 
 it is a chant, rather than a song) ''with eager 
 thought his Doric lay," it is not diO&cult to beheve 
 that its origin dates from a remote antiquity. May 
 it not be lineally derived, and (except for the addition 
 of verse borrowed from the Moors, the monks, or 
 the troubadours) be almost identical with the rude 
 Fescennine verses which Horace says were sung in 
 his day, by the country people at harvest time ? I 
 propound this not as an opinion, but as a suggestion. 
 The River Lima passes Ponte de Lima in a rapid 
 stream. There is a tradition that the Eoman 
 colonists named it Lethe, the Eiver of Oblivion. I 
 know no solid reason for supposing that this was so ; 
 but the old Portuguese poet, Diogo iBernardes, men- 
 tions it, and the untrustworthy historian Floras 
 asserts that the Eoman troops on reaching its 
 banks, hesitated to cross a river with so ill- 
 omened a name, until their general had set them an 
 example, by plunging into the stream with the stan- 
 dard ia his hand.^'^" It any Portuguese river was 
 
 * The editor, or rather compiler, of Murray's " Handbook for 
 Portugal," relates this fable as an actual historical fact, citing as 
 his authority, " The Historian," so that the unwary reader might 
 suppose that Livy or Suetonius was responsible for it. The hero is 
 also made to be Lucius Junius Brutus — the avenger of Lucretia 
 and expeller of the Tarquins — who, of course, if he lived at all did so 
 several centuries before any Roman soldier set foot in the Peninsula. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 61 
 
 ever known as Lethe, it was, I suspect, the little 
 Eiver Lega, near Oporto ; but the whole story is 
 almost certainly a myth. 
 
 Ponte cle Lima is a plain-looking town, with a 
 broad Praga, or square, in the centre. It contains 
 about three thousand inhabitants, of whom appa- 
 rently two-thirds were in temporary mourning for a 
 much respected resident, whose funeral had taken 
 place a day or two before. The house of the 
 deceased gentleman was besieged by a crowd of 
 sympathetic friends, who not only thronged the stairs 
 and passages, but had formed themselves outside, 
 six or seven deep, to wait their turn for admittance. 
 It is customary throughout Portugal, on the 
 occurrence of a death, for the friends of the deceased 
 person to pay visits of condolence to the relations 
 
 The fact is tliat the editor has " cribbed " the story from a foolish 
 Portuguese compilation, and copied the blunder as well as the story. 
 Murray's "Handbook for Portugal" is not only the worst hand- 
 book in that eminent publisher's series — for that might still be high 
 praise — but probably the very worst handbook that ever was printed. 
 The compiler would seem to be possessed of strong reactionary 
 opinions, both in politics and religion. He sympathises with the 
 miserable cause of Dom Miguel, and deplores the suppression of the 
 convents. All that has hindered Portugal on the road to progress, 
 all that would make arbitrary government possible, helped on by 
 priestcraft and ignorance, finds favour in his eyes. This gentleman 
 would seem to be on an intellectual level with a certain Mr. Smith, 
 a reverend tourist who has recently written a book on Poi-tugal, and 
 who, while mildly disapproving of the Inquisition, highly commends 
 ^ the unifoi-mity and absence of all Dissent consequent upon' the 
 former activity of the Holy Office ! 
 
52 TRAVELS IN POETUGAL. 
 
 two or three days afterwards. The bereaved rela- 
 tives sit in a half- darkened room, and receive all 
 those acquaintances who may think fit to pay 
 this token of respect. The more distant friends, 
 entering the room with grave and gloomy counte- 
 nances, bow or curtsey to each of the relations 
 present, with all the expression of sympathy they 
 can command, sidle off towards the doorway, and 
 " exeunt bowing." It is to be observed that in 
 the upper and middle classes, this ceremony is 
 performed by men in black tail-coats, white ties, 
 and white gloves ; and by ladies in black silk 
 dresses, with more, less, or no crape, according to 
 circumstances. While the more distant acquaint- 
 ances are let off thus easily, the nearer friends of 
 the family have to sit about the room, all lugu- 
 briously dressed in the deepest mourning, none of 
 them venturing to speak above a whisper ; and as 
 each new arrival enters, a little chorus of sighs 
 and groans is heard. This mournful ceremony is 
 often repeated during three or four days. In the 
 case of a widow, particularly a young widow, she is 
 required to "renew her grief" to all her acquaint- 
 ances for weeks after her loss ; and this mild form 
 of suttee is sometimes known seriously to affect the 
 health of an unfortunate woman, already broken, 
 perhaps, by a long course of sick-bed nursing and 
 watching. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 53 
 
 The different funeral observances of different 
 nations are surely very singular. The Chinese, 
 when their relations die, dress themselves in bright 
 yellow ; the bereaved of another nation shave their 
 heads ; in another, they cut and slash their bodies ; 
 we ourselves, when we mourn, let down white window- 
 blinds for a week ; but I think this custom of the 
 Portuguese, of allowing themselves to be bowed to 
 and sighed at, is the least rational of all ways of 
 showing grief and respect for the dead. 
 
 The country about here has been praised by all 
 travellers, as being beautiful above everything else 
 to be seen in Portugal. Lord Carnarvon says of 
 the banks of the Lima that he had never gazed on 
 lovelier scenes. Beautiful as it unquestionably is, 
 I should not be inclined to set it above much 
 scenery of the same kind in the Minho ; and after 
 hearing so much of Ponte de Lima, I was, in truth, 
 inclined to find the neighbourhood rather tame than 
 otherwise. 
 
 The fact is, that travellers do wrong to go into 
 raptures over a particular scene, seeing that so very 
 much depends upon the light and shade, the time 
 of day and of year, the discernment of the indi- 
 vidual, and the popular notions about scenery pre- 
 valent at the time. At the present day, persons of 
 the most approved taste seem to be in favour of 
 
64 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 rugged foregrounds ; for the middle distance, a 
 jumble of craggy rocks, well coloured with Hchens 
 and mosses ; and for the far distance, a Turneresque 
 effect of mist, caught in the tops and clefts of far- 
 off mountains. Some time ago, critics of scenery 
 of the very highest judgment thought mountains 
 barbarous and ''horrid," and set no store on a 
 scene without a picturesque ruin, a river, a lake, 
 a dance of maidens and, of course, the inevitable 
 dark-brown tree in the foreground. Further back, 
 again, the artistic and poetic instincts combined 
 into an aesthetic appreciation of what was perfectly 
 regular and smooth. The poet Marvel, wishing to 
 describe a beautiful scene, shows how the land was 
 shaped into a perfect hemisphere. "The stiffest 
 compass," he says — 
 
 " could not strike 
 A line more circular or like," 
 
 Now, I maintain that, seeing how general 
 opinion on such matters varies from day to day, 
 travellers should be cautious how they praise any 
 scenery at all. JSTo author is bound to be wiser or 
 more consistent than his readers. Rhapsodies over 
 scenery make the worst " padding," and a traveller 
 is sure to provoke criticism from the majority of his 
 readers, if he indulges in anything but the very 
 mildest eclecticism on the subject. I therefore 
 limit myself to observing of this highly extolled 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 55 
 
 district, that what seems to me chiefly worthy of 
 attention about it, is the contrast of bold, rocky hill 
 with valleys teeming with vegetation of a luxuriance 
 of growth which can be seen hardly anywhere else 
 in Europe. 
 
 The neighbourhood of Ponte de Lima is classic 
 ground to the student of Portuguese literature. 
 Not far from the town is the Quinta de Tapada, the 
 country-house of the great poet, Sa de Miranda, 
 who holds the second place among the poets of 
 Portu2:a], even if he does not deserve to rank with 
 Camoens himself. Miranda was the father of Por- 
 tuguese poetry, and was hardly less distinguished 
 as a traveller, an accomplished courtier, a philo- 
 sopher and a patriot, than as a poet ; and yet his 
 fame in Portugal is almost nothing. A man whose 
 name, if he had lived in any other country, would 
 never be allowed to die on the lips of his admirers, 
 is all but forgotten in the land of his birth. His 
 works are ill-edited, and ill-printed, his life un- 
 written ; and no other monument of the great poet 
 exists among his countrymen than a cold acknow- 
 ledgment of his excellence. 
 
 For what inscrutable reasons do men — chiefly our 
 own countrymen and Americans — visit countries of 
 whose language they know no syllable ? Not con- 
 tenting themselves, even, with keeping upon the 
 beaten tourist tract, where French and EngUsh will 
 
56 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 serve tliem, but plunging recklessly into by-patlis, 
 where they are utterly unintelligible, and where the 
 unsophisticated inhabitants regard them, not without 
 reason, as beings of perverse mind and crass stu- 
 pidity ; for it takes some grasp of intellect to look 
 upon a foreigner who speaks one's own language im- 
 perfectly as anything but an idiot. Travellers of this 
 idle, ignorant and ridiculous class, bring great dis- 
 paragement upon all our race, and, as I fully believe, 
 do more to lower our national prestige, than the re- 
 spectful contemplation by foreigners of all the accu- 
 mulated wisdom of our Ambassadors, Ministers, and 
 Consuls does to elevate it. 
 
 A man's home must be very desolate, a man's 
 mind very barren, or his love for solitude very great, 
 if he wilfully puts himself into that most complete 
 of all solitudes, a foreign crowd, whose language is 
 unknown to him. It is like a man going to a con- 
 cert with his ears stopped, or to a picture-gallery and 
 blinded. What can a man gain in return for the 
 fatigues and troubles of travel, if he is never to per- 
 ceive more than the outside of things, if he is never 
 to be able to ask a question or understand an answer, 
 never to get at the inner life of the people ? What 
 avails him painfully to cultivate the tenth muse, the 
 Muse of Travel, with '* wisdom at one entrance quite 
 shutout?" 
 
 These reflections and this mild indignation were 
 
TRAVELS IN FORTUGAR . 57 
 
 called forth by the presence of two English tourists, 
 who had come to Ponte de Lima by carriage from 
 Oporto, and who wished to be taken down the river 
 to Yianna in a boat. An altercation, pitiful to be- 
 hold, was going on between them and their driver ; 
 neither party understanding a syllable spoken by the 
 other. The Englishmen were condemning — I might 
 use a shorter word — the stupidity of the natives, 
 while they overlooked their own. Both sides got 
 more and more puzzled, angry, and red in the face. 
 The crowd laughed. The driver turned round to 
 the natives, and made his view of the question quite 
 clear to them. The Englishmen, speaking in their 
 own tongue, put their meaning equally plainly to each 
 other. It was a melancholy exhibition. After look- 
 ing on for a httle time, I intervened and made things 
 straight ; with the feelings of a man who has seen a 
 fly fall- into the cream-jug, and, for a time, thinks him 
 well served for his greediness, then pities his strug- 
 gles and helps him out, watching him crawl ridicu- 
 lously away with clogged wings and legs ; so did I 
 help out these two foolish tourists, and watched 
 them for a while crawling as it were on their way, 
 laughed at, ashamed, contemptible. 
 
 Throughout my ride to Ponte de Lima it had been 
 striking me how many traces of the Moors were still 
 to be observed in the rural parts of Portugal. To 
 any one who has been in Eastern countries, the im- 
 
58 TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 press of Orientalism in many of the customs and 
 habits of the people of Portugal is very perceptible. 
 A hundred little circumstances in daily life, insig- 
 nificant in themselves, are constantly reminding the 
 traveller how much the people around him must have 
 learnt from the singular race who were their masters 
 for so many centuries, and with what curious tenacity 
 these lessons have been retained. 
 
 The *' /Socco " or wooden-soled slipper, worn by 
 both men and women — by women only on gala days 
 — is precisely the foot covering to be seen in the 
 bazaars of Cairo or Damascus ; and the Portuguese 
 will shuffle off these slippers, in token of respect, as 
 they enter a house or a church, just as an Oriental 
 will leave his at the entrance of his mosque. 
 
 If the gold ornaments which I have mentioned 
 as being worn by the women, are closely examined, 
 their admirable form and pattern will be found to be 
 of pure Arab type and origin. The crescent and the 
 circle are the prevailing '^ motives " of the work, 
 combined and intertwined with all the elaborate 
 intricacy of Eastern artifice. The patterns never 
 change ; and the ornaments are repaired, but never 
 re-cast. The parish priest, at a place near Barcellos, 
 assured me that the ornaments which covered a Ma- 
 donna in his church dated from the time of the 
 Moors. They had every appearance of great anti- 
 quity, even if they were not quite so old as the priest 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 69 
 
 believed ; nevertheless, except tliat tlie work was a 
 little more delicate than that of the present day, 
 these ornaments were identical in design with those 
 now worn. 
 
 Although the jewellery is delicately worked, yet 
 considering the absolute indestructibility of gold, 
 except by actual violence, and considering also the 
 rare occasions on which they were worn, I see no 
 improbability in some of the ornaments worn by the 
 Portuguese women at this dsty, having been actually 
 the work of Moslem artificers. 
 
 Another instance of the prevalence and endur- 
 ing character of Moorish art-forms is found in the 
 *' cangas," or yokes of the oxen. While the ox-cart 
 itself is purely Eoman in shape and appearance, 
 without having undergone the smallest change in its 
 construction during fourteen centuries, the yoke is 
 Oriental. It is, in shape, a single board set edge- 
 wise upon the necks of the oxen, and is ornamented 
 on each face, sometimes profusely and very beauti- 
 fully, with characteristic Moorish incised designs. 
 
 The common earthenware vessels, the cooking 
 pots and water-jars, might many of them have been 
 turned on a potter s wheel in Morocco or Algiers ; 
 so, likewise, the whole economy of the kitchen, in 
 peasant households, is conducted on simple Eastern 
 principles. 
 
 I amused myself to day by watching, from the 
 
60 . TRAVELS IN TOUTVGAL. 
 
 commencement, the preparation of a stew. Having 
 arrived, at about three o'clock, at a solitary wayside 
 inn, the sun being, overpoweringly hot and the air 
 sultry, I rode my horse through the inn- door, and 
 tied him up in a cool and lofty stable communicating 
 with the kitchen. No one was about, and I walked 
 into the kitchen. It was a room with a mud floor, 
 raised one step higher than the stable, and divided 
 from it only by a wooden partition. The sleeping- 
 room was again separated from the kitchen by 
 another slight partition, so that the construction of 
 the house was simple, consisting of an oblong square 
 building, having a kitchen in the centre, with a stable 
 on one side of it and a bed-room on the other. 
 
 Having surveyed the establishment at my leisure, 
 and, perceiving that its inhabitants were taking ad- 
 vantage of the holiday to indulge in a siesta, I woke 
 them up, and asked for something to eat and drink ; 
 then, sitting down on a stool, I watched the pre- 
 paration of my meal. First, a fire was kindled upon 
 the hearthstone, which consisted simply of a huge 
 slab of stone in the middle of the room. Looking up 
 to see what was going to become of the smoke, I 
 saw that more or less of it was finding its way into 
 a peculiar wooden contrivance, like an immense 
 square extinguisher, suspended from the ceiling at a 
 height of about two feet above our heads, and pass- 
 ing through the roof. In the meantime, a levee en 
 
TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 61 
 
 masse of the family was pursuing a solitary cliicken 
 tliat I had seen outside, and, before the fire was well 
 lighted, he had found his way into an earthenware 
 pot, with a little water, a piece of bacon, a little 
 rice, beans, bread, and about five or six other in- 
 gredients. I have watched the making of these 
 stews often since, and I believe the only secret is to 
 put in some of everything eatable in the house. 
 The result is always successful. 
 
 Now, all this that I have described is purely 
 Eastern. The flat stone for a fireplace, the wooden 
 chimney, the covered earthenware cooking-pot, with 
 the hot cinders raked up round it, even to the 
 variously compounded stew, have all their prototypes 
 in the tents of the Bedouin or the dwellings of semi- 
 Arab tribes on the northern shores of Africa ; and if 
 one were to address the old woman watching the 
 simmering pot, like a witch her cauldron, and ex- 
 press a hope that her cooking might turn out well, 
 ten to one but that she would reply, " Oxala, meu 
 amo," — " Pray Heaven it may, my master ! " 
 Oxald, being a pure Moslem adjuration, meaning, 
 " Would to Allah ! " quite unsuspectingly employed 
 by orthodox Portuguese Christians. 
 
 The traces of Arabic in the Portuguese language 
 are by no means so many as might have been 
 expected. So far as I can ascertain, the Arabic 
 words in Portuguese amount to about two hundred 
 
62 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL, 
 
 in number ; but they are, for the most part, words 
 in very common use by the lowest as well as by 
 other classes, and two hundred words form a large 
 proportion of the whole vocabulary of an illiterate 
 peasant. The civilization superimposed by their 
 Moorish invaders upon a people already educated to 
 some extent by the Romans, is clearly evidenced by 
 the character of the words which are taken from 
 the Arabic. What the people already knew they 
 retained the old names for. New ideas and new 
 things they expressed in the language of the race 
 which introduced them. If we had no other 
 evidence than that of language, we might have 
 gathered that it was the Moors who extended and 
 improved the art of healing, and taught the use of 
 many medicinal herbs and chemical substances ; 
 who invented a new system of numeration ; who 
 developed commerce and established customs' dues ; 
 who taught the use of the Eastern water-wheel ; who 
 first showed how water could be made to flow up- 
 wards in jets and fountains ; who taught the art of 
 glazing pottery, and how to fabricate decorative 
 tiles ; and who first made known the ingenious arts 
 of sugar-making and distilling spirit. Record of all 
 these inventions and discoveries exists in such 
 Arabic words as — " Almofariz," a chemist's mortar; 
 *'Alfazema," lavender; " Alzebre," aloes; " Alga- 
 rismo," a numeral ; " Alfandega," a custom-house; 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 63 
 
 "Nora," a water- wheel ; "Chafariz," a fountain; 
 "Azulejo," a glazed tile; "Alcatruz" a drain- 
 pipe ; " Azucar," sugar ; " Alembico," a still ; 
 and " Alcool/' spirit. 
 
 Of all marks of tlie former ascendency of the 
 Moors, the most striking. to a foreigner is to be 
 found in the manners of the people themselves. 
 The contrast in this respect is very strong between 
 the northern races of the Peninsula, where there was 
 little or no contact with the Arabs, as in the case 
 of the Galicians, the Asturians, the Biscayans, and 
 the Catalonians ; and those where that contact was 
 long continued and intimate, as in Portugal, Murcia, 
 Valencia, and Andalusia. The ceremonious cour- 
 tesy observable among these latter races is unques- 
 tionably due to the bygone influences of the Moors 
 and Arabs, races of men who derive their institu- 
 tions, their religions, and some, in many cases most 
 of their blood, from the most courteous and high- 
 bred nation that the world has ever seen — a spirited 
 and accomplished people, who, in their wars with 
 the Christians, set the example of that generosity 
 and courtesy which grew into our Christian chivalry. 
 
 The extreme importance of good breeding, and 
 w^hat may be called educated manners, has always 
 been inculcated by the Moslem as part of their 
 religion, and is apparent enough to anyone who has 
 had opportunities of observing the daily life, either 
 
Oi TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 of the Arabs themselves, or of peoples brought 
 strongly under the influence of their religious and 
 social custom^. Very rough manners probably pre- 
 vailed among the mediseval Portuguese and Casti- 
 Hans, and a Moorish farmer of the twelfth century 
 in Andalusia or Algarve would probably have had 
 nothing to learn in propriety of demeanour — 
 possibly much to impart — at the Christian Courts 
 of Toledo or Guimaraens. This good influence of 
 the Moors continues to this day, and in Portugal it 
 is very apparent. Nowhere in the Peninsula, not 
 even in Andalusia, where the vestiges of the Moors 
 are supposed to be stronger than elsewhere, have I 
 found such an observance of the old ceremonious 
 habits of speech as in Portugal. To say of a Por- 
 tuguese that he is mal creado — ill brought up, ill- 
 bred — is still the greatest of reproaches. The 
 exceptions to this universal good breeding are to bo 
 seen among the lower middle classes, with whom 
 liberal ideas are happily become common, but who 
 appear to think, with liberals elsewhere, that dis- 
 courtesy is equivalent to an assertion of equality. 
 It has frequently been noticed that, in Portugal, the 
 best manners are to be found in the very highest 
 and the very lowest classes. The middle classes, 
 as a rule, however, sin rather from an excess than 
 from a want of manners ; they are, like some vulgar 
 people at home, far too anxious to show that they 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, . 65 
 
 know liow to bebave. They are too ceremonious to 
 be perfectly courteous. 
 
 That such lasting effects should have resulted 
 from collision between the two races, and that the 
 Christians should have preserved their religion, and 
 much of their liberty, under the sway of their 
 Moslem conquerors, are circumstances which should 
 have seemed utterly unaccountable, according to 
 the theories of those who have written the history 
 of Mahometan rule in the Peninsula with the pre- 
 conceived notion that the Moslem invader invariably 
 offered to the conqueror the alternative of the sword 
 or the Koran ; the fact being that the cruelty, in- 
 tolerance, rapine, and injustice ascribed to the 
 Saracens are, to a great extent, the fables of 
 monkish chroniclers. Incompatible as these alle- 
 gations are with the known respect shown to 
 Christian churches — in some cases the mosque and 
 the church stood side by side — and with the 
 proved prosperity of many Christian cities under 
 the rule of Islam, it was not until history, as told 
 by the monks, came to be compared with the 
 writings of Arabian annalists, that the truth came 
 fully out ; and that the government of the Saracens 
 was proved to be, on the whole, just, tolerant, 
 and even beneficent. Gayangos, in Spain, and the 
 historian, Herculano,* in Portugal, are the two 
 
 * I hardly know a greater seryice to letters than would bo 
 
 6 
 
66 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 men to wliom this rectification of history is chiefly 
 due. 
 
 Coming back to my inn at Ponte de Lima after a 
 walk about the town and near the river, I found the 
 public room pretty full of towns-people. A little 
 very mild gambling was going on, and a great deal 
 of conversation. From the sudden cessation of talk 
 as I entered the room and saluted the company, and 
 from the curiosity with which I was regarded, I was 
 led to gather that I had myself been the subject of 
 both conversation and curiosity. That a foreigner 
 on horseback should have come among them, and 
 that that foreigner should be travelling without a 
 servant to allay any of their natural inquisitiveness, 
 for I had left my Spanish guide at Yianna, was no 
 doubt, doubly puzzling to the citizens. In former 
 days, ray business would have been thought to be 
 political, and as they had reason to know it was not 
 commercial, I was probably set down as a person 
 
 accomplislied by tlie translation into English or French of the 
 three volumes of the " History of Portugal," by this most eminent 
 of living Portuguese writers. Herculano is j)erhaps, on the whole, 
 the first historian of the present age. His pure style, unequalled in 
 Portugal since the days of Barros — the so-called Livy of Portugal — 
 is a pleasant contrast to the rhetorical writings of many of his con- 
 temporaries. His acumen and judgment in the appreciation of 
 authorities, his lucidity, and the art with which he satisfies the 
 reader of his learning without importing into his narrative any of 
 the dryness of the chroniclers among whom his researches have lain, 
 are qualities in a historian which the world has not seen since the 
 death of Gibbon. Unfortunately, Herculano's hi^story only reaches 
 to the end of the thirteenth century. 
 
TRAVELS m rOllTUGAL. 67 
 
 connectecl with mines ; but as this part of Portugal 
 has httle mineral wealth, such a supposition was not 
 likely to be very strong ; so when I came to enter 
 into conversation with these gentlemen, I had evi- 
 dence that their minds were by no means made up. 
 I knew well that they were far too clever to believe 
 me if I had told them the plain truth, namely, that 
 I was travelling to see the country and the people : 
 therefore I said nothing. 
 
 In the course of conversation it was mentioned 
 that when the Erench army fled northward, after the 
 passage of the Douro and capture of Oporto by Wel- 
 lington, the military chest of the French was secretly 
 buried, to avoid risk of capture somewhere in this 
 neighbourhood. When I remarked that I had not 
 before heard of this circumstance, I observed a look 
 of incredulity upon the face of my informant ; and I 
 have very little doubt that what would appear to 
 them as my affected ignorance of a well-known fact, 
 taken in conjunction with the Erench expedition, then 
 talked of for the recovery of the lost treasure at Vigo, 
 convinced those present that this military chest, and 
 nothing else, was the object of my mission ! 
 
 It is hardly to be believed with what childish cre- 
 dulity stories of hidden treasure are told and accepted 
 in all parts of Portugal. There is more time and 
 labour wasted in searching for imaginary concealed 
 riches, than would earn real wealth if properly 
 
68 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 directed. Some small foundation, indeed, for this 
 general credulity exists in the hoarding propensities 
 necessarily produced in former times of insecurity 
 and danger ; and one or two well-attested instances 
 of the discovery of hidden treasure have come to my 
 own knowledge. An English merchant having occa- 
 sion to make some repairs in a house rented by him, 
 in or near the town of Regoa, the workmen, either 
 in pulling down a wall or in taking up a floor, came 
 upon a receptacle containing about two hundred mil- 
 reis, in gold and silver coin — about £40 or £50. A 
 goldsmith of Viseu told me that the garden- wall of 
 a neighbour threatening to fall, it was ordered to be 
 pulled down ; and that on one very heavy stone in it 
 being removed, an earthen pot was laid bare in a 
 little hollow behind where it had stood,, and in this 
 pot were found no less than seven golden moidores ! 
 These discoveries were not magnificent ones, and it 
 is not likely that the few which now and again are 
 made, are more so ; but they serve to keep up the 
 prevailing appetite for treasure-seeking. 
 
 There has always prevailed a belief that an im- 
 mense treasure was hidden away — I have never heard 
 under what circumstances — in the uninhabited royal 
 palace of Queluz, near Lisbon ; and ineffectual efforts 
 have from time to time, been made to find it. A 
 few years ago, great interest was suddenly created 
 by the announcement that an old sergeant of artillery 
 
TRAVELS IN POUTUGAh 69 
 
 had sent, on liis death-bed, for a high officer of the 
 court, and had confided to him that he — the sergeant 
 — was the sole survivor of the party which had been 
 entrusted with the concealment of the treasure in 
 question. He then proceeded to describe accurately 
 the situation in which it was to be found. There 
 was, as may be imagined, prodigious excitement 
 among the lords and ladies of the court ; and on a 
 certain day, a large party of them went to the de- 
 serted palace. The particular plank designated by 
 the sergeant, in the particular room which he men- 
 tioned, was found. The workmen brought for the 
 purpose forced it up with their tools, and between it 
 and the ceiling below was found a space, in which 
 there was — nothing at all ! Then more planks were 
 pulled up, then the floors of other rooms, then holes 
 were made in likely-looking places in the walls ; but 
 still no treasure, and the courtly party had to return 
 without it : but the palace of Queluz has been left in 
 a state the reverse of what is known to lawyers as 
 ^ ' tenantable repair. ' ' 
 
 Another instance of credulity is of so astounding 
 a nature that, if I had not heard the account on un- 
 exceptional authority, I should not venture to relate 
 it. In the city of Oporto, a society or club has been 
 formed, for the sole purpose of seeking for the hiding- 
 place of a fabulously large diamond, concealed, under 
 t know not what circumstances, either in the city or 
 
70 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 in its near neiglibourliood. I am ignorant of the 
 rules and regulations of this club — whether the en- 
 trance is heavy, the subscription high, or how many 
 black balls exclude. I should imagine that the 
 search for a single gem, among the streets and 
 squares, and suburbs of a large city, must be very 
 much like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay ; 
 nor do I well see how such a search could be set 
 about without exciting comment and suspicion. I 
 presume the members perambulate each other's gar- 
 dens after nightfall, with dark lanterns. They must,, 
 of a truth, be men of a solemn and earnest tempera- 
 ment if they can meet together and preserve their 
 gravity. Perhaps the club is broken up now, and 
 for this very reason, and that solvuntiir risii tahulce,. 
 they could not look each other in the face without, 
 laughing. 
 
 I am not aware that the belief of the members 
 of the Diamond Club in the hidden stone rests upon 
 anything resembling evidence, or upon anything at 
 all, except the fact that a great number of fine gems,, 
 particularly diamonds, do exist in the country. The 
 Portuguese obtained many precious stones of great 
 value from India during the palmy days of their 
 connection with that country ; and more still, chiefly 
 diamonds, from their Brazilian dependencies. I 
 have seen, at evening parties in Lisbon and Oporto, 
 a far greater show of good diamonds than would be? 
 
TEAVELS m PORTUGAL, 71 
 
 seen, on similar occasions, in London or Paris ; the 
 stones, indeed, mostly ill-cut and ill-set, but repre- 
 senting an immense money value. 
 
 The crown jewels of Portugal are, for so small a 
 kingdom, marvellous, and if the huge Braganza dia- 
 mond — which is one of them — is a true " brilliant," 
 the Portuguese regalia must be quite unequalled. 
 The Braganza stone was found in the Caethe Minim 
 Mine in Brazil, in 1741, and was frequently worn by 
 King John YI, The lowest estimate of the weight 
 of this stone is sixteen hundred and eighty carats, 
 while the Kohinoor weighs but a hundred and six ; 
 the Star of the South a hundred and twenty-five ; 
 and the great Orloff diamond a hundred and ninety- 
 four carats. The Orloff is, however, ''rose-cut," 
 •i.e., not the true " brilliant " shape. The Braganza 
 diamond, from its unusual size, has been suspected to 
 be nothing more than a fine white Brazilian topaze ; 
 but the fact that it has been publicly worn by the 
 king, at a court whose frequenters are particularly 
 good judges of diamonds, must go some way to 
 make us believe it to be what it professes. I have 
 never seen it. A person who had the opportunity of 
 examining it closely, told me it was as large as a 
 hen's egg, and was badly cut, having but few facets. 
 My informant had no doubt but that it was a true 
 diamond; but an ordinary observer's evidence on 
 such a point goes for little. If the stone is uncut, 
 
72 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 or imperfectly cut, the marvel of its size is lessened, 
 but not removed. To cut sucli a rough stone into 
 true *' brilliant " shape could only be effected by re- 
 ducing its weight to nine hundred or a thousand 
 carats. It would, even then, be five times as large 
 as the largest diamond in existence. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Visit to the Gaviarra — PQ-udery of Portuguese Writers — Decay of Litera- 
 ture — Vievjfrom Top of Gaviarra — Early Portuguese History — Ad- 
 vantages of Travelling on Eorsehach—Bide through the Gerez 
 Mountains and along Spanish Frontier — Wild Birds, Beasts and 
 Flowers — Fishing and Shooting not Good in Portugal— Hill Forts 
 — Legends Connected with One — 3Iild Religious Exercises— PiU 
 grimages to Shrines. 
 
 Leaving Ponte de Lima I rode along a fair road 
 to Arcos, intending to examine the Gaviarra — 
 the loftiest mountain in Portugal — whose height 
 is nearly eight thousand feet. Although I have 
 given reasons for avoiding description of scenery, 
 it is impossible not to notice the exquisite beauty 
 of the whole country hereabouts — a beauty which 
 appeals to the eye of the artist, rather than to 
 that of the ordinary scenery- hunter : craggy hills, 
 with their wealth of lichen growth, of a colour 
 beyond the daring of any landscape painter ; valleys 
 rich with the luxuriance of a half-tropical vege- 
 tation, and richer still in their association with 
 the best idyllic poetry of Portugal. It is this very 
 country which the poets Miranda and Bernardes de- 
 
74 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 scribe in tlieir poems ; and certainly tliese green 
 dells and stream- watered valleys with tlieir hanging 
 vineyards, rich in waving crops of maize, and alive 
 with the songs of birds, the peaceful lowing of cattle, 
 and the chants of peasant girls and youths, might 
 well seem to a poet's fancy to contain all that is de- 
 lightful of rustic life. Passing along the narrow 
 roads in the early morning, when the sun had just 
 risen, and with its slanting rays sparkling on the 
 leaves, grass and wild flowers, and drawing up the 
 thin vapour from among the clefts and gorges of the 
 distant hills, I thought that I had never seen a coun- 
 try so various and so rich in its attractions ; and this 
 I say after having premised, in a previous chapter, 
 that I am a reluctant admirer of " fine views," and 
 very unwilling to describe them. 
 
 It is a pity that the ancient Greeks and Eomans 
 were not acquainted with the maize plant. The 
 nations which have said so many fine and grateful 
 things of the vine, the olive tree, and the wheat 
 plant, consecrating each of them to a difierent god 
 or goddess, would assuredly have said still more for 
 this most kindly boon of a beneficent Nature. The 
 rapid growth of the maize, its size and noble appear- 
 ance, the value of all its parts, and the immense 
 returns it makes to the cultivator in comparison with 
 any other cereal, would certainly, in their eyes, have 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 75 
 
 placed it at the head of all products of nature. As 
 it is, I hardly think a civil word has ever been said 
 for it by the poets of a country which it has so much 
 benefited. It is true, indeed, that maize was not 
 introduced, or at least, did not begin to thrive, in 
 Portugal, until after true poetry had ceased to do 
 so ; and since then, a spirit of such fastidiousness 
 and false refinement has taken possession of the 
 nation — both verse-makers and others — that so com- 
 monplace and vulgar a subject as maize could hardly 
 be brought into verse. The prevailing delicacy on 
 such a point is, in fact, like that which actuated the 
 Dublin clergyman v/ho had to preach a sermon upon 
 the Potato Famine, and succeeded in not pronounc- 
 ing the word ''potato " once in his whole discourse. 
 A preacher of this fastidious sort would be applauded 
 in this country ; and there is many a word quite as 
 good as or better than " potato," that a Portuguese 
 would not dream of saying outright in good com- 
 pany. In some parts of the country, it is a positive 
 solecism to talk of a dog ; the animal must be named 
 apologetically as a puppy, a " cacliorroJ' IS'o Portu- 
 guese of any class will name that shocking animal 
 the pig. If he must be alluded to — and it is neces- 
 sary sometimes, seeing that the Portuguese are very 
 fond of him cooked, he is called " the fat animal,'* 
 '^cevada;^^ and if a Portuguese is driven into a 
 corner and absolutely forced to employ the word, he 
 
:6 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 will use the diminutive "porgza'^o," a little pig, and 
 even that only under his breath, and with the phrase, 
 ^' by your leave." 
 
 I have been amused by reading the translation 
 into Portuguese of a French savant's account of a 
 fossil bone cave, in which had been found, among 
 other remains, abundant bones of swine. The 
 Portuguese translator ingeniously eluded all direct 
 mention of the animal ; and as often as science 
 clearly demanded the plain word '' pig/^ he would 
 have recourse to some ingenious paraphrase, such 
 as, "a familiar mammal, which we still employ as 
 food," and so forth ! 
 
 If this foolish prudery applied only to the two 
 animals held abominable by the law of Islam, it 
 might be traced to the influence of the Moors ; but 
 it applies to a hundred other words, things and 
 ideas, which the Moors never dreamt of interdicting; 
 for instance, no one in Portugal ventures to speak of 
 a certain migratory bird, which both Shakespeare 
 and Mohere have mentioned allusively, although I 
 believe no other nation in Europe thinks it wrong to 
 speak familiarly and even lovingly of the bird in 
 question. Moreover, the modern Portuguese dislike 
 of calling a spade a spade by no means prevailed 
 during the best period of Portuguese literature, 
 which was two centuries after the Moors had left the 
 country. The present fastidiousness dates from a 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 77 
 
 time when letters, as well as morale;, began to de- 
 generate; a period in literature wliicli is, oddly 
 enough, as Mr. Matthew Arnold may think, desig- , 
 nated '' Culturismo " which would probably, by its 
 admirers, be translated " culture ; " a period during 
 which it was thought well to stimulate an over-sensi- 
 bility of emotion and an over-refinement of expression. 
 This grew into effeminacy and ended in absolute 
 decadence. These influences have, unfortunately, 
 never ceased to have sway in Portugal. Among 
 the prose writers of the present day are many 
 unmanly sentimentalists, or rhetoricians; and any 
 true poetical utterance in the land of Camoens and 
 Ferreira, of Miranda and Bernardes, is rare, if not 
 altogether absent : — 
 
 " The languid strings do scarcely move, 
 The sound is forced, the notes are few." 
 
 I had a long day's journey before me, for I had 
 determined to reach the mountain of the Gaviarra 
 before nightfall. I rode as fast as the boy I had 
 engaged at Ponte de Lima could keep up with on 
 foot, and the result was that upon reaching Arcos 
 where I had determined to breakfast, he was dead 
 tired, and I had to send him back. Taking a new 
 guide, I followed a fair road up the course of a trout 
 stream, which has its sources in the Gaviarra itself. 
 To my left, as I ascended, was the wild range of the 
 Estrica ; on the right rose the taller mountains of 
 
78 TBAVELS IN TOBTUGAL. 
 
 the Soajo range among wliich towers the lofty, 
 Outeiro Maior, the Great Hill, properly called the 
 Gaviarra. 
 
 The ascent is gradual, and as the cultivation of 
 the valley is left behind, the mountain becomes bleak 
 and its scenery comparatively tame. I had, too, the 
 common bad luck of a mountain ascent. Though 
 the day had been clear and fine in the morning, a 
 suspiciously misty appearance had hung all day 
 about the summits of the mountain, and towards 
 noon had turned into a drizzling rain, which 
 gradually descending the sides of the hill, blotted 
 out all the features of the landscape. I rode on for 
 several hours, skirting the side of the hill with a 
 continuous ascent, the view never extending more 
 than a hundred yards around me. It was late 
 evening before we reached a shepherd's house, or 
 hut, where my guide had promised that we could 
 pass the night. Two men occupied the house, 
 whose solitary room served for kitchen, dining-room, 
 and bed-room. There was no stable or out-house 
 of any kind, and as we were high enough up on the 
 mountain to feel a considerable change of tempera- 
 ture, I was in some difficulty about my horse. How- 
 ever, the shepherds soon settled the matter by 
 building up a little lean-to of green branches 
 against the sheltered side of the house ; and in this 
 improvised stable he passed the night, probably as 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 79 
 
 agreeably as bis master bimself did on a bundle of 
 rye straw on tbe floor of tbe cabin. 
 
 We had bought an *'odre," or skin, of Mon^ao 
 wine at Arcos ; and with this, some black bread, 
 goat's-milk cheese, and a large bowl of ewe's milk, 
 the two shepherds, my guide, and myself, made, at 
 any rate, a cheerful meal — for the Moncao wine is 
 the best in this province, and my hosts enjoyed it 
 amazingly. One of them after supper sang a good 
 Spanish song, recounting the adventures — of a very 
 *•' picaresque'* and rascally description for the most 
 part — of one Don Spavento ; the hero of the song 
 being supposed to sing in his own person, and to be 
 so overcome by the enjoyment of his recollections as 
 to break out, at the end of each stanza, into a 
 laughing refrain of " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Dice Don Spa- 
 vento," and this being taken up in chorus by the 
 whole strength of our company, so shook the walls 
 of the cabin as to startle my horse outside, and to 
 raise a second chorus of bleating in the flocks of 
 goats and sheep which had crowded round the 
 building. The man told me that in his youth he had 
 been a mule- driver, and had learnt this song on the 
 Spanish frontier. The song was so successful that, 
 at my particular request, it was repeated, and then, 
 the singer's repertory being exhausted, and feeling 
 very tired, I got some fresh straw, and spreading it 
 upon the floor slept fairly well till daybreak. The . 
 
80 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 morning was misty again, but it did not rain, and I 
 started at once up the mountain. The summit was, 
 I should imagine, about two thousand feet above 
 our heads, and the early morning air was exceedingly 
 cold. The slope was stiff, but the ascent by no 
 means difficult. 
 
 I am one of that minority who hold that moun- 
 tains were not exclusively formed for the purpose of 
 being ascended. I even go so far as to think a 
 writer owes some apology to his reader for taking 
 him into the clouds, either by means of a mountain 
 or otherwise ; and I, for one, shall not be sorry when 
 we see the end of a great deal of printed enthusiasm 
 On the subject of Alpine climbing. 
 
 The mist began to lift, as the shepherds had 
 foretold that it would, when the sun rose ; and con- 
 tinuing my ascent, I had presently spread out 
 before me a vast panorama to the south and to the 
 east, with a radius of probably not less than a hun- 
 dred miles. The greater part of the Province of the 
 Minho lay immediately to the south-west, with its 
 innumerable white villages dotting the dark green of 
 the landscape. The province is a hilly one, but in 
 comparison with the more mountainous regions 
 within my ken, it looked, from this great height, 
 almost like a fruitful wooded plain. To the south, 
 about ten miles off, but appearing from the clearness 
 of the air to be almost within rifle shot, lay the 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 81 
 
 ranges of tlie Gerez Mountains, looking as if tliey 
 were cast in steel, so sharply did their barren peaks 
 and ridges stand out in the transparent atmosphere. 
 
 Beyond the hills of the Gerez, the eye ranges 
 over a confused mass of hills of a lesser elevation, 
 which compose the Province of Traz-os-Montes, 
 beyond which the Eiver Douro flows ; and the sight, 
 passing thence over the hill country of Beira, is 
 limited to the south by the noble range of the 
 Estrella Mountains, which stretch nearly across the 
 whole central part of Portugal. The hill country 
 between the Gerez and the Estrella is drained by 
 the Douro, whose sources lie to the eastward, and 
 much farther than the eye can now reach, in the 
 heart of Leon. To the north-east, the eye ranges 
 across the Spanish frontier towards the Asturias, in 
 the direction of Astorga and Leon. 
 
 The traveller who has looked over this stretch 
 of country from the Gaviarra, has seen the very 
 •cradle of the Portuguese nation, which is an offshoot 
 of the vigorous race which in the eighth, ninth, and 
 tenth centuries inhabited the great basin and water- 
 shed of the Douro, from the heights of the Asturias, 
 of Leon and of Old Castile, as far as the mountain 
 ranges of Beira and Traz-os-Montes ; the, race of 
 men who, in the Asturias, preserved some sort of 
 independence, when the rest of the Peninsula was 
 overrun by the Arabs, who were the first to rise 
 
 G 
 
82 TRAVELS IIST PORTUGAL. 
 
 asrainst tlie enemies of their faitli and of tlieir 
 country, and by wliose efforts the Moslem was 
 finally thrust from the soil in all parts of the Penin- 
 sula. When the long war between Christian and 
 Mahometan commenced and the Christians first 
 began to hold their ground, it was in the region we 
 are now surveying that some of the earlier struggles 
 took place. One of the finest passages in the 
 " Cid " relates the siege of Zamora, on the Douro, 
 by the Campeador himself and the King of Leon ; 
 and the hills about Zamora are the eastern limit of 
 the view from the Gaviarra. The northern portions 
 of the fertile province of the Minho were early 
 wrested from the Moors ; and here, in 1095, Count 
 Henry as Viceroy of the Leonese king, established 
 his court in the centre of this province, at Gui« 
 maraens-— whose battlemented castle walls, thirty or 
 forty miles away, due south from us, are distinctly 
 visible. 
 
 At Guimaraens the son of Count Henry was born 
 — Affonzo Henriquez— the most heroic figure in 
 Portuguese history; whose adventures and conquests, 
 authenticated by Christian and Moorish chroniclers, 
 are hardly less romantic than those which go to make 
 up the great epic of the " Cid." It was in the wild 
 country at the foot of the Gaviarra that he fought, 
 while still a mere boy, the Galician Count who had 
 stirred up a civil war in Portugal, and finally defeated 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 83 
 
 liim at San Mamede, near Guimaraens. Then turning 
 his arms against the Saracens, he routed them ntterly 
 at the battle of Ourique, on the field of which he as- 
 sumed, for the first time, the title of King of Portugal. 
 In reading the history of the extraordinary race 
 of men which sprang from the wild hill country 
 below my feet, and whose subsequent exploits by 
 land and by sea fill such an important page of the 
 world's history, the story of their early vicissitudes 
 and adventures has always seemed to me more sur- 
 prising than even the discoveries, conquests, and 
 colonizations of after years, in foreign and distant 
 lands. Surely it is a marvel that so numerically 
 small a tribe — for they hardly amounted to a nation 
 — should have had the energy and the constancy to 
 hold their independence against the attacks of 
 powerful nations of their own race, commanded by 
 leaders accounted the most accomplished captains 
 of their day ; that they should have done this 
 w^hen their efforts were hampered by a civil war, 
 and when the whole of their southern frontier was 
 occupied by a warlike race in never-ceasing hos- 
 tility with them ; that having disposed of their 
 Christian enemies, they should have turned upon 
 the Mahometans, and won upon them the .greatest 
 Christian victory which had yet been obtained in 
 the Peninsula. It might, perhaps, not be so strange 
 that such a series of successes and victories should 
 
84 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 have resulted from tlie genius of one great sove- 
 reign and commander, or tlie accident of weak- 
 ness or division among their enemies ; but that 
 these successes should have continued for long cen- 
 turies after the death of the first monarch, and that 
 after many battles and many victories over their two 
 powerful enemies, the Moors should finally have 
 been crushed at the decisive battle of Salado and 
 the Castilians at Aljubarrota, — this, I think, proves 
 a loyal fortitude and, perhaps as much as anything 
 else, a faithful devotion to their independence as a 
 people, almost beyond example. 
 
 Moreover, it is to be remembered that this main- 
 tenance of Portuguese independence under so many 
 circumstances of difficulty, was owing in no case to 
 the inaccessibility of their territory, as with the 
 Swiss, or, to some extent, with the Greeks ; for I 
 can recollect no instance of the Portuguese having 
 owed victory to the accident of a strong position ; 
 nor, again, was the coherence of the Portuguese 
 ranks due to any sort of feudalism or servile com- 
 pulsion. The rallying to the standard of their 
 chiefs resulted from a feeling, partly of clanship, and 
 partly of loyal and dutiful devotion of each private 
 interest to the public good. The noble motto of 
 one of the earliest and greatest of the Portuguese 
 kings was '' Polla ley e polio grey" — " We rule by 
 law and by our people's will." 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 85 
 
 On returning to the shepherds' house, I found 
 them away on the mountain side with their flocks. 
 The guide was still asleep on the floor, and my horse 
 had eaten all the bundle of rye-styaw I had put 
 before him in the morning — the poorest horse-pro- 
 vender there is. I had ridden him not far from 
 thirty miles, over hilly roads, the day before ; and 
 though not in any condition, he had carried me 
 admirably. He had now passed the night on a cold 
 hill-side, in a draughty shed, and with scanty food ; 
 but he was as fresh as ever — an example to travellers 
 to make sure of a good horse at the beginning of 
 their work. Nothing is so tiring to the body 
 nor so wearing to the mind, as to be compelled 
 to ride a weak, stumbling horse on a long day's 
 journey. The pleasure of travel is quite spoiled by 
 it; whereas to ride a strong and willing beast 
 through a pleasant country is the summa felicitas 
 of travelling — the healthiest, the most exhilarating, 
 and the most independent mode of progression that 
 human ingenuity has yet invented. 
 
 I have recounted, in a previous chapter, how I 
 accidentally fell in with this horse at Yigo, and how 
 I gave the unusual price of twenty-five pounds for 
 him — he being of the Andalusian breed, and not 
 likely to meet with appreciation so far from his 
 home as Galicia. He was hardy, untiring, easy in 
 his paces, gentle, and very sure-footed. His only 
 
86 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 fault was one shared by many Andalusian horses — 
 a delicate appetite. He was what English grooms 
 call '' a shy feeder." During my connection with 
 him, he has certainly made acquaintance with some 
 exceptional kinds of horse-food. He has had to eat 
 green fern-fronds ; once I had to employ a boy to 
 gather the leaves of a neighbouring ash ; and often 
 I have eked out his ^' feed " with slices of black 
 bread : and these varieties of provender he seemed 
 to prefer to ordinary horse-food. 
 
 I descended the hill on the Spanish side, and 
 followed the border line between Spain and Portugal 
 for several hours along one of the very worst bridle- 
 paths it was ever my fortune to travel over. Cross- 
 ing the River Lima near Flervael, I had hoped, by 
 a very long ride, to reach the city of Chaves the 
 same day ; but my route lay through the passes of 
 the Gerez, over which my guide had only a very 
 faint notion of the road, and I fully believe that I 
 had ridden over forty miles before reaching the 
 fortified city of Montalegre, which is only half-way 
 to Chaves. 
 
 Montalegre is perhaps the smallest cathedral 
 city or fortified j)lace in the world. At the most, 
 eighty to a hundred inhabitants are contained in its 
 ruined and tumble-down houses. Its raison d'etre is 
 clearly the strongly placed castle on the hill above 
 the city, which guards a path through the frontier. 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 87 
 
 The walls of the town are still in fair condition, and 
 its position, in the extreme north-east corner of the 
 kingdom, would obviously give Montalegre con- 
 siderable military importance, so long as war with 
 Spain was possible. The tiny cathedral is of poor 
 E-enaissance work, and possesses no architectural 
 interest whatever. 
 
 Leaving my useless guide at this place, I fol- 
 lowed an average road through the mountains to 
 Chaves, situated on an extensive and fertile table- 
 land. Chaves is an important place in a military 
 point of view : its fortifications command the rich 
 valley of the Eiver Tamega, leading straight from 
 Spain into the heart of Portugal. It does not, how- 
 ever, derive its name of Chaves — " the Keys " — 
 from this circumstance, as Murray's Handbook ab- 
 surdly asserts, but because the Eomans had called 
 it '' Aquge Flaviao," or " Flavia3," from its hot wells ; 
 ^nd by the not unusual change of the Latin 'Tl" 
 into the Portuguese ''Ch" — as *'Plamma" into 
 '''Chamma" — Plavioe (in the accusative, Plavias) 
 becomes Chaves. The many Roman inscriptions 
 and milliary columns in the neighbourhood, and the 
 fact that it was a principal station on the Eoman 
 road from Braga, and that its name is of purely 
 Eoman origin, would seem to indicate that the 
 place was actually founded by the Eomans, and not 
 the site of a town previously established. The re- 
 
88 TBAVELS IN FOBTVGAR 
 
 mains of Moorisli domestic architecture in the 
 streets show that the town was afterwards held by 
 the Saracens, and the existence of a richly-built 
 church of the style of the twelfth century'^' proves 
 that it was in early and permanent occupation by 
 the Christians. Thus a traveller who arrives at 
 Chaves without even having heard of its existence 
 before, may, by merely looking about him, construct 
 some sort of a history of the town. 
 
 My road for the last two days had lain altogether 
 among the peaks and precipices of the Gerez Moun- 
 tains — a range presenting those abrupt changes of 
 view, that variety of rock form and colouring, that 
 abundance of streams^ and that frequency of cascades 
 in narrow, precipitous ravines, and above all, that 
 wild and variously contorted sky-line, which, taken all 
 together, go to the making-up of the finest moun- 
 tain scenery. I have, indeed met nowhere in the 
 Peninsula (except, perhaps, among the mountains of 
 Eonda, in Andalusia) with scenery to be compared 
 with this of the Gerez range. Amid these wild and 
 inaccessiblo hills is still found one of the rarest 
 of European quadrupeds — the Portuguese ibex, or 
 wild goat ; this range being the solitary Portuguese 
 
 * I have elsewhere fully described this building of good Roman- 
 esque work. The churches of this style of architecture, which would 
 be better termed "Pre-Gothic " than " Romanesque," are very rare in 
 Portugal. Details would probably not interest the general reader. 
 
TEAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 89 
 
 iabitat of the species,* The wolf, the roe-deer, the 
 Portuguese Ijnx (Fclis pardina), and, perhaps, the 
 wild boar, are likewise to be found among these 
 mountains ; while the golden eagle is frequently to 
 be seen perched upon the topmost needle of some 
 precipitous cliff, or wheeling in slow flight over the 
 narrow mountain valleys. 
 
 A traveller in Portugal has the advantage, or 
 disadvantage, of being in a land whose fauna and 
 flora have been less studied than those of any other 
 country in Europe. The lofty mountain ridges 
 which divide Portugal from Spain, and Spain from 
 Europe, should — according to modern theories — 
 have a tendency to separate and localize species ; 
 and apparently this has to some extent been the case 
 in Portugal. A good, patient naturalist, of the class 
 of Dr. Darwin or Mr. Wallace, who would be con- 
 tent to study the language, and then to spend three 
 or four years in the remoter parts of Portugal, 
 would, I have little doubt, achievo the discovery of 
 many new species, and confer great benefits upon 
 the science of natural history. 
 
 * This animal lias been considered by naturalists to be identical 
 with 2Egoceros Caucasica, the ibex of the Caucasus ; but the able 
 Director of the Zoological Department of the Lisbon Museum, 
 Senhor Barbosa, has, in my opinion, satisfactorily shown the ibex of 
 the Gerez to be the same with Capra Hispanica, discovered by 
 Schimper in 1848 in the Sien-a Nevada ; and this, again, is probably 
 identical with the very rare ^goceros Pyrenaica, the Tur, or wild 
 goat, of the Pyi-cnccs. 
 
90 TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 As a country for a mere sportsman, Portugal 
 presents hardly any attractions. The difficulties of 
 language would be insuperable to the ordinary sport- 
 ing tourist ; nor would the chance of bagging perhaps 
 fifteen brace of red-legged partridges or quail in a 
 day repay him for the trouble of getting to the 
 shooting ground, or of putting up with very wretched 
 accommodation. Woodcock visit the country in im- 
 mense numbers in winter, but the. pine forests over 
 which they spread themselves are so vast, that very 
 few, comparatively speaking, are killed. Seven brace 
 in a day, among four or Q.Ye guns, is considered a 
 remarkably good day's sport. Snipe are abundant, 
 but the shooting of them is an unsatisfactory sport. 
 A bog which one day contains thousands of birds, 
 may, the next, not hold a dozen. The great bustard 
 is to be found on the plains of Alemtejo and Estre- 
 madura, but not in great numbers ; the little bustard 
 appears to be a half-migratory species, and, in some 
 years, is tolerably abundant in the southern pro- 
 vinces ; so, also, is that pretty African migrant, the 
 sand grouse. The pheasant has been introduced in 
 some of the royal preserves, and the fallow deer re- 
 introduced. The red deer is supposed, by some 
 enthusiastic naturalists, to be still found in the 
 mountains of the Estrella range. 
 
 In the way of fishing, there is very little to be 
 done. The Douro is the southernmost limit, in 
 
TBAVELS m POBTUGAR 91 
 
 Europe, of the migration of the salmon ; one or two 
 fish only are caught in the year. In the Lima, the 
 next large river to the north, salmon and salmon- 
 trout are more frequently taken ; and in the Minho, 
 on the Spanish frontier, both are netted in consider- 
 able numbers : but I never heard of any one having 
 caught a salmon in Portugal with rod and line. In 
 all the mountain streams, trout are abundant ; and 
 in a few they run to some size. The streams which 
 I had crossed or ridden by, within the last three 
 days, were full of trout ; but a singular difficulty in 
 the way of angling is presented in Portugal by the 
 growth of the vine. Almost every river is bordered 
 by pollarded oaks or chestnuts, on which are trained 
 vines which grow in festoons from one tree to the 
 other, so that an angler is greatly hindered in the 
 casting of his line. 
 
 Although a sportsman who cared for nothing bat 
 sport would find Portugal a dull country, a person 
 who has paid any attention to the natural history of 
 his own land would find it full of interest. Very 
 many quadrupeds, birds, and plants scarce or un- 
 known in Great Britain are here common. 
 
 The hoopoe is one of the rarest visitors to the 
 British Isles : here its thrice-repeated call, like the 
 cuckoo's, but less resonant, is as commonly heard 
 in the woods in summer as the cuckoo's in England ; 
 but, unlike that bird, it is not shy and retiring. 
 
92 . TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Another very interesting bird, tlie black wheatoar 
 (Saxicola leucuraj, a bird nearly tlie size of a black- 
 bird, with a white patch on the back, is very conspi- 
 cuous from its familiarity and lively motions. A 
 bird of similar habits and appearance, but with red 
 markings, has been described to me by the natives : 
 it is, probably, a new species. Another curious bird 
 is the large Calandra lark, whose song, harsh and 
 discordant as it is, the Portuguese seem to prefer 
 to that of every other singing bird. Their taste in 
 cage birds is certainly strange ; those most frequently 
 seen in captivity being this bird, called by the Portu- 
 guese cuchicho, an onomatopoetic name — the quail 
 and the partridge ! A large proportion of the com- 
 mon house-martins winter in the North of Portugal, 
 but the chimney-swallows — those w^ith the forked 
 tails— all disappear from the northern provinces, so 
 far as I have observed ; though a few stay over the 
 winter in the warmer parts of Southern Portugal. 
 The swifts entirely leave the country in autumn. If 
 my observation is correct, this would correspond 
 with the apparent susceptibility to cold of these 
 three species in Great Britain. At home the 
 martins come first and go last, the swallows next, 
 and the swifts arrive last and make the shortest stay 
 of any. 
 
 Of quadrupeds, the wolf and the fox of Portugal 
 are different animals from the common wolf and fox 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 93 
 
 of Europe, the wolf being a large and powerful brown 
 variety of Canis lycaon. The fox is not Canis vulpes, 
 our English fox, but Canis melanogasier ; and, while 
 rather smaller than the fox of England, has a larger 
 head, and the throat and under part of the body 
 black. It likewise differs from our fox in having the 
 pads distinctly smaller, while the brush is much more 
 bushy. The civet, the wild cat, and a species of lynx 
 are all common in the remoter hills and woods. 
 
 Of reptiles, the great green lizard (Lacerta 
 ocellata) is the most interesting. This animal is 
 common everywhere, and, in the brilliancy of its 
 green, yellow, and blue scales, rivals the beauty of 
 the tropical reptiles. The esculent frog and the 
 tree-frog, both unknown at home, are common. 
 Very common, also, is the so-called '• singing toad " 
 (Ahjtes ohstetricans), which, unlike the toad of Great 
 Britain, lives in dry places, and whose note is heard 
 all through the warm nights of summer like the 
 tinkle of a small glass bell. 
 
 To an entomologist, Portugal should be a para- 
 dise. I have counted eleven different species of 
 butterfly on one hedge of lavender,* and this fact 
 
 . * Mostly of species common in Great Britain : P. Macaon, our 
 English Swallow-tailed butterfly; 0. Edusa, the Clouded Saffron; 
 our two common English white butterfl>3s; L. Meg(jera,t}ie Wall 
 butterfly; C. Cardui, the Painted Lady; two kinds of Fritillary ; 
 two species of the genus Pohjommatus, the blue butterflies ; and the 
 Red Admiral, V. Atalanta. 
 
94> TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 will no doubt stand me in stead of further descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 Of all departments of natural history, that of 
 the freshwater fishes has been the most neglected 
 in Portugal. The species that are commonly 
 known do not exceed half-a-dozen, and include the 
 trout, the eel, the barbel, the burbolt, the gudgeon, 
 a species of dace and another of roach, neither of 
 the two being identical with the British species. 
 Besides these there are the migratory fishes — the 
 sturgeon, lamprey, shad, salmon, etc. There can 
 be little doubt that at least thirty or forty unknown 
 or unrecognized species are awaiting the labours of 
 some future Crouch or Frank Buckland. 
 
 Travelling on by a good road, six miles of 
 gradual ascent brought me to Monforte — as its 
 name implies, a stronghold on a hill. Such places, 
 perched on the summits of precipitous cliffs, were 
 not inaptly christened Aguiares — eyries, or eagles' 
 nests; and there is a curious legend attached to 
 this very castle, so characteristic of the wild times 
 of the early years of the monarchy, that it is well 
 worth transcribing it from the monkish chronicler 
 who relates it. 
 
 A certain Dom Gon^alvo de Souza, one of the 
 most noble and powerful knights of the reign of 
 King Afi'onzo Henriquez, was, in the words of the 
 
TRAVELS m FOBTVGAL. 95 
 
 writer of tlie life of Saint Senhorina, " taking Lis 
 pleasure one day on his own estate, wlien messen- 
 gers came with word that the enemy had invaded 
 his lands, towns, and strong' places, and were then 
 laying siege to his castle of Aguair. Whereupon 
 Dom Goncalvo forthwith sounded the alarm, and 
 summoned his people, and hastened with them to 
 relieve the said castle. When they came to where 
 the body of Saint Senhorina lies buried, Dom Gon- 
 galvo forgot, in his hurry, to beg for her grace and 
 intercession, and, as they passed before the holy 
 spot, the mule on Vvdiich the Cabalheiro rode 
 remained fixed to the ground, and neither blows 
 nor the spur would make her stir a step. Then 
 Dom Goncalvo, recollecting that he was passing 
 the shrine without having prayed to the saint, 
 turned his mule, who willingly made towards the 
 chapel, where the Cabalheiro performed his orisons, 
 commending himself to the protection of the saint. 
 After which he continued his journey, raised the 
 siege of Aguiar, pursued the enemy, and routed 
 them. Ever after this, Dom Gongalvo recom- 
 mended all good Christians to do proper homage to 
 Saint Senhorina." 
 
 The enemies who thus attempted to surprise this 
 nobleman were either the Moors or the men of Leon 
 and Castile. . Though no date is fixed by the 
 chronicler, we learn incidentally from the Charter 
 
06 TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 of the Cathodral of Braga, dated 1151, that Dom 
 Gongalvo de Souza, the knight in question, was 
 then Governor of Monforte, above Chaves — ''Dom- 
 nus Gonsalvus de Souza tenens Montem fortem 
 supra Flavias." 
 
 The site of this miracle is still holy ground, and 
 a square of earth is marked out with stone crosses 
 on a hillside, where the body of Saint Senhorina is 
 supposed to be lying. These assemblages of four, 
 six, or eight stone crosses, disposed in an oblong 
 square, are exceedingly numerous in this province 
 and in that of the Minho. They mark the site of 
 a miracle or supernatural event in the life of some 
 local saint, whose memory is kept green by the annual 
 exhortations of the priest of the parish. From time 
 to time the pious of the neighbourhood frequent the 
 place; they kneel in front of each cross in turn, 
 repeating so many aves and paternosters. The 
 more zealous go the round of the crosses on their 
 knees, but I have not observed that even this morti- 
 fication of the flesh (on the generally stony ground) 
 is any promoter of gravity, for they laugh and talk 
 freely between the stations. Such religious exer- 
 cises are, at most, little more than play, and this 
 sort ofjpioiis croquet is frequently imposed as a mild 
 penance. 
 
 The "Romarias," or annual pilgrimages to holy 
 places, are more serious affairs, and occupy a large 
 
TRAVELS IX FOU'iUGAL. 97 
 
 place in the social life of tlie peasantry and lower 
 classes. The Romaria to the church of Matho- 
 sinhos, near Oporto, which contains a miraculous 
 image, and that to the Bom Jesus at Braga, last 
 three or four days, and are the most important in 
 the kingdom. They are attended by persons of all 
 classes from every part of Portugal, sometimes to 
 the number of from twenty to thirty thousand. 
 Pilgrimages to less celebrated shrines, many of them 
 on solitary mountains, are also very numerous. 
 They are chiefly resorted to by the peasants, and often 
 by as many as two or three thousand, who live al 
 fresco during the few days that the Romaria 
 lasts. Bread is baked and food cooked for this 
 multitude daily in huge stone ovens, which, 
 when the assemblages are over, are the only 
 marks left of them ; and these ovens to the 
 number of twenty or thirty in a row, on a solitary 
 hillside, might puzzle a traveller who had not learnt 
 their use. 
 
 At these gatherings there are sermons to be 
 heard, religious exercises to be performed, and — 
 as the occasion has some of the characteristics of 
 a country fair — there is an immense deal of laugh- 
 ing, gossiping, dancing, and singing; very much, 
 indeed, what takes place at our own open-air 
 Revival meetings, with some of their worst features 
 
 left out. 
 
 7 
 
98 TRAVELS IN FOBTUGAL. 
 
 Althougli a stranger might think, at first 
 sight, that their religion sits loosely on the 
 Portuguese, he would be much mistaken. They 
 are not a bigoted people, but they are deeply 
 imbued with an earnest spirit of religion. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Castle of Bmganza— Hebrew Type of Face in Braganza — Impor- 
 tant Fart Flayed hy Jews in Fortuguese History — Conversation luith 
 a Jewish Traveller — His Story of Spinosa — Mirandella — Mono- 
 tonous Cuisine of Well-to-do Feople in Portugal — Legend of the 
 Bruxas — Villa Real; its Architecture — Return of Enriched Adven- 
 turers from India and Brazil — Bull Life in Portuguese Country 
 Towns — Curious System of Courtship — Anecdote — Description of 
 Port Wine Country — Sketch of the History of Fort Wine — Has a 
 Literature of its Own — The Pass over the Maruo Mountains. 
 
 The reader wlio has followed me hitherto in my ride 
 in Portugal has been taken along the northern and 
 eastern frontier line, through the fine scenery of the 
 Gerez Mountains ; past the numerous strongholds 
 which were erected, during the early years of the 
 monarchy, to guard the Portuguese line from Casti- 
 lian and Leonese incursions, and past the old Roman 
 station of Aqu^e Flaviae, and the hill stronghold of 
 Monforte. From thence I proceeded, across the 
 table-land of Traz-os-Montes, to the once famous 
 city of Braganza, whence the reigning dynasty of 
 Portugal derives its title, and which is still the most 
 important city along the whole frontier between 
 Spain and Portugal, though its prosperity has greatly 
 declined of late years. 
 
ICO TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 The town is neither clean nor picturesque ; the 
 cathedral is essentially mean, and has not even the 
 merit of antiquity ; but what is worth coming from 
 far to see is the magnificent castle on the hill above 
 the city — the most perfect remaining stronghold in 
 Portugal, with the exception of the Castle of Villa 
 da Feira, near Oporto. The Braganza Castle was 
 rebuilt by the second king of Portugal on the founda- 
 tions of a fort erected probably by Afibnzo Henri- 
 quez himself, and made a place of great strength. 
 The works were evidently not neglected, as time 
 went on, for it contains remains of all the improve- 
 ments and refinements in the art of defence made in 
 the pre-artillery period. 
 
 Besides the castle, the one point of interest which 
 struck me at Braganza was the marked Hebrew type 
 of face in the inhabitants. The strong immixture of 
 Jewish blood in the Portuguese race is a fact that 
 Portuguese writers are not fond of dwelling upon. 
 The former large population of Jews in Portugal is 
 usually stated to have emigrated in consequence of 
 the persecutions of the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
 turies ; but there is little doubt that the writers who 
 have treated of this great exodus of the Jewish race 
 from the Peninsula have very much overrated the 
 extent of the emigration, so far at least as Portugal 
 is concerned. Immense numbers were driven out of 
 Spain by the cruel bigotry of Ferdinand and Isabella. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 101 
 
 They left Spain by various issues, and embarked for 
 Italy, Turkey, Morocco, and tlie Levant. Very many, 
 perhaps the majority, made their way , ^cro^sa the. 
 border into Portugal, where numero.us communities 
 of Portuguese Jews already existedVanxi .bad come 
 to be treated with comparative fairness. In Portu- 
 gal they had long been allowed to appoint judges of 
 their own tribe, and were otherwise favoured. They 
 had attained a high degree of culture : they studied 
 medicine, science, and letters. Among a rude people 
 of warriors and husbandmen, the Jews succeeded, to 
 some extent, to the place left vacant by the Moors. 
 They were the authors, the merchants, and the 
 physicians of the nation : they founded a famous 
 academy in Lisbon, which produced several eminent 
 mathematicians, grammarians, poets, theologians, 
 botanists and geographers. The first book printed 
 in Portugal was printed by a Jew. 
 
 When the last of the Moors had been banished 
 from Andalusia by the conquest of Granada, King 
 Ferdinand and Queen Isabella turned the edge of 
 their intolerance against the Jews; who were in 
 such numbers and of such social and commercial 
 importance that, in the opinion of a Jewish historian 
 of these events, the Israelites of Spain, if they had 
 not kept their eyes constantly fixed upon. Palestine 
 as their own destined country, would have been 
 strong enough to overthrow the Spanish Govern- 
 
102 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 ment ! According to the Jewish writer, Da Costa, 
 no less than eight hundred thousand of the richest, 
 52iost\ industrious, and most intelligent subjects of 
 Spain, were driven from her shores by the edict of 
 h^r-Mos-t Catholic Sovereigns. It is not too much 
 to say that the moral and material decadence of Spain 
 dates from that day ; for, from that time forward, 
 the triumph of religious bigotry progressed till it 
 reached the stupid fanaticism of Philip II., and the 
 virtual extinction, under his reign, of all individual 
 thought and movement. 
 
 The Spanish Jews who crossed into Portugal 
 hoped for a good reception from the King, John 
 II. ; but they were received upon hard conditions, a 
 poll tax was at once exacted from them, and they 
 were only permitted to remain eight months in the 
 country, imder penalty of being sold as slaves. 
 When the eight months had expired, many of them 
 who were unable to leave the country were enslaved,, 
 their children were baptised and taken from them. 
 
 The death of King John, and the accession to 
 the throne of King Emmanuel, did little to improve 
 their lot. He released the Jews enslaved by his 
 predecessor, but his own "piety" and the Spanish 
 influences exerted upon him through his projected 
 marriage with the daughter of Queen Isabella, led 
 him in 1496 to issue a decree ordering the imme- 
 diate conversion of all Moors and Jews, under pairt 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 103 
 
 of banishment. King Emmanuel was, however, one 
 degree more prudent than the Spanish sovereign; 
 fearing to lessen the population of his small kingdom 
 by so large an emigration, he commanded that all 
 children under fourteen should be detained and con- 
 verted to Christianity. There can be no doubt that 
 this cruel but politic order induced many Jews to 
 embrace Christianity. The Jewish histories dwell 
 on the complete national exodus, both from Spain 
 and Portugal, and they paint in strong colours the 
 heroic adherence to their religious convictions both 
 of Spanish and Portuguese, and the terrible suffer- 
 ings they underwent in consequence ; nevertheless, 
 the evidence of physiognomy and of family tradition 
 are all against this alleged universality of the move- 
 ment, and, if a change of name had not been made 
 compulsory in the days of persecution, so also 
 undoubtedly would be the evidence of names. 
 There are, unquestionably, innumerable famiHes 
 of Jewish lineage in Portugal, and Israelitish 
 blood flows in the veins of many noble Portuguese 
 families. It is related that when that foolish bigot, 
 King Joseph, proposed to his minister Pombal that 
 all Jews in his kingdom should be compelled to wear 
 white hats as a distinctive badge, that sagacious 
 minister made no objection, but when next he ap- 
 peared in Council it was with two white hats, — " One 
 for his Majesty and one for himself,'' explained 
 
104 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Pombal, and tlie King said no more about his pro- 
 posal. 
 
 That great numbers of Portuguese Jews left the 
 country is, however, notorious enough ; and it is 
 evidence of the high culture attained by the race in 
 the Peninsula that, upon their settling in Holland, 
 where many Jews from Germany and other parts of 
 Europe were already gathered, the Jews of Spain and 
 Portugal were looked upon as the aristocracy of the 
 race.* The Peninsular Jews in Holland preserved 
 the tradition of their origin so long and so steadfastly 
 that the Spanish and Portuguese languages were 
 used by them, as well as Dutch, not only in the for- 
 mal services of the synagogue, but in daily life, even 
 until the commencement of the present century. 
 
 The type of face in Braganza is, as I have said, 
 remarkably Jewish. I was struck by it at every turn 
 in the street. A girl in the kitchen of the inn was 
 in features so strongly Israelitish, that I think the 
 least observant physiognomist would have noticed it. 
 The reason of the attraction of the Jewish race to 
 
 * A liberal in politics and religion may reflect with satisfaction 
 that the cause of Protestantism and Liberal government against the 
 bigotry of an arbitrary King of England, was furthered by a Jew 
 whose ancestors had been driven into exile by an intolerant and 
 arbitrary King of Portugal. It is an historical fact that William 
 III. received considerable pecuniary advances, on the eve of his de- 
 parture for England, from the Baron de Suasso, a Portuguese Jew 
 of Amsterdam. 
 
TUA VELS IN FOBTUGAL. 105 
 
 Braganza was, no doubt, its importance as a trading 
 centre. A large contraband trade — a kind of com- 
 merce peculiarly suited to the subtle and energetic 
 Israelite — was for many years carried on between 
 Portugal and Spain. The velveteens so much worn 
 by the Spanish peasantry are manufactured at Bra- 
 ganza, and, until a recent change in the Spanish 
 tariff, were chiefly made to be smuggled across the 
 border. 
 
 There was a gentleman in the inn at Braganza 
 who was a traveller on horseback like myself. He 
 lived, he told me, at Evora, but had friends and re- 
 lations in Braganza. He was about to journey to' 
 Oporto, and, as our routes were to be thu same for 
 two days, I proposed to him that we should travel 
 together. Although he had by no means the char- 
 acteristic features of his race, he was, as he informed 
 me, of Jewish extraction: This gentleman was one 
 of the very few travelled Portuguese with whom I 
 have met. He had visited most of the great cities 
 of Portugal and Spain, and had been in France, 
 Belgium, and Holland. He was full of information 
 about his own people, and was, generally, a well- 
 read, well-informed man. On my asking him if the 
 rich Portuguese Jews of Amsterdam maintained any 
 kind of relations with the members of their tribe in 
 Portugal, he said they did ; that a Portuguese or 
 Spanish Jew going to Holland would be recognized 
 
106 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 as a sort of distant relative by families of his own 
 name; that all Peninsular Jews and Christians of 
 Jewish lineage retained the knowledge of their Jewish 
 names, though they had mostly abandoned them ; 
 that ancestors of his own had settled at Amstel, in 
 Holland, and had subsequently either established or 
 helped to establish the celebrated porcelain manu- 
 facture of that town ; that the workers at Amstel 
 had been, almost to a man, Jews from Saxony and 
 Portugal. He told me that many Jewish families, 
 long after the persecution which accompanied the 
 great exodus, and, after their seeming adhesion to 
 the Christian religion, had emigrated to Holland 
 when the Jews in that country obtained civil rights, 
 and had resumed the exercise of their own religion. 
 This, he thought, a good deal accounted for their 
 long retention of the Portuguese tongue. He had 
 himself met with Dutch Jews who understood Por- 
 tuguese, and spoke it, but not very fluently. 
 
 I ventured to ask him if it was true, as was 
 sometimes alleged, that many Jewish families in 
 Portugal, professing Christianity in public, per- 
 formed their own rites in private. He smiled, and 
 said many thousands of his countrymen had been 
 imprisoned, and tortured, and burned at the stake 
 by the Inquisition for doing this very thing ; and 
 though his people were very clever, they were not 
 clever enough to fight against such an instrument of 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 107 
 
 persecution as the Holy Office, wliicli considered a 
 bare suspicion of guilt, authenticated by a single 
 informer, to be evidence enough to send a man to 
 the stake. I reminded him that the Inquisition had 
 virtually long ceased to exist. He said it had, but 
 that a sort of Inquisition still existed, and was 
 enough to maintain a perfect uniformity of religion. 
 The officers of the modern Inquisition, he said, were 
 spying servants, officious neighbours, and meddling 
 priests. " But," I suggested, '^ they have no tri- 
 bunal to refer to now." "Indeed they have," he 
 answered, '' the tribunal of public opinion, and I 
 would not be the man in a Portuguese town who 
 was suspected by his neighbours of secretly practis- 
 ing the rites of Judaism ! " 
 
 My acquaintance was evidently proud of his 
 Jewish lineage, but it was not, it seemed to me, the 
 common pride of high birth. There was none of 
 that natural, if unreasoning, pleasure in tracing 
 one's genealogy through a line of noble or illustrious 
 ancestors, nor, what might be supposed to take the 
 place of such a feeling in the case of a Jew, pride in 
 being descended from a stock the most ancient and 
 most unmixed in the world ; but he seemed to be 
 proud of belonging to a nation who, wherever their 
 lines have fallen, have at once taken the lead over 
 their neighbours not only in mere worldly clever- 
 ness and the art of acquiring riches, but also in 
 
108 TRAVELS IN TOBTUGAL. 
 
 every department in wliicli they chose to exert their 
 talents. My Jew companion told me that many ot 
 the most successful merchants in Portugal were 
 Jews from Braganza, and he instanced several names 
 in Lisbon and elsewhere. 
 
 He asked me if I knew what was the most diffi- 
 cult and best-paid trade in the world. I confessed 
 I did not know. " Diamond-cutting," he replied, 
 " without a question. It is an art invented by a 
 Jew, and to this day none but Jews can work at it. 
 If a man in New York or in Calcutta wants a dia- 
 mond cut, he can have it done but in one place, and 
 that place is Amsterdam, and all the workmen are 
 Jews. The jewellers of London and Paris have 
 never yet succeeded in establishing this trade in 
 their cities ; and they never will, though there is no 
 secret in it — only cleverness." 
 
 Then he reminded me of all the great ancj 
 learned Jews of Portuguese birth, whose names are 
 possibly better known to my readers than to myself. 
 He gave me so much information that was quite 
 new to me, that I came to the conclusion that he 
 was himself either a Talmudist or a learned Rabbin. 
 He told me of David Jachia, the poet and theologian ; 
 of Isaac Avuhaf, whose Menoraas Ilammor (" The 
 Lamp of Light ") he seemed to suppose I must be 
 quite familiar with ; and of the great Moses Ben 
 Thaliba, whose work on Grammar, entitled Arcenoam, 
 
TRAVELS IN POETUOAL. 109 
 
 is, of course, so well known to us all. Then he 
 asked me if I was aware that Spinosa himself, the 
 great philosopher of Amsterdam, was born in Hol- 
 land of a father and mother who were themselves of 
 Portuguese birth ? I said I was not. Thereupon 
 he startled me considerably by demanding to know 
 what my opinion might be upon Spinosa' s system of 
 philosophy. I question whether a harmless tourist 
 was ever asked so searching a question before by a 
 chance acquaintance. It has been my fortune to 
 have submitted myself for vivd voce examination in 
 the '* schools " of a certain English University ; and, 
 later in life, to have been subjected to a still more 
 terrible public examination ; but on neither of these 
 occasions do I remember to have been so taken 
 aback as when called upon for an impromptu 
 opinion upon the Pantheism of Spinosa by this 
 grave Portuguese gentleman riding by my side on 
 the remote mountains of Traz-os-Montes. I 
 modestly replied that I was afraid I had not given 
 the subject so much attention as it deserved : that 
 the system was, no doubt, an ingenious one, but that 
 I personally did not much hold with it. 
 
 "Nor do I," said my interlocutor, eagerly; 
 "neither do our people. Though Spinosa is, per- 
 haps, the greatest man our race has produced, we 
 of the house of Israel hold him in no honour. He 
 was a recusant and an apostate from our religion. 
 
110 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 In liis lifetime he heard the execration of his own 
 people, and the curses uttered against him in the 
 synagogue have clung to his memory." 
 
 " To what do you allude ? " I asked. 
 
 " We have a custom," he said, " that when a Jew 
 falls away from the faith of his forefathers, and openly 
 reviles their sacred rites and customs, he is solemnly 
 excommunicated in the synagogue. It is a thing 
 seldom done, because it is very horrible, and because 
 it is seldom required ; but it was done in the case of 
 Spinosa. He was brought into the synagogue, 
 which was hung with black : lighted tapers of black 
 wax were held in the hands of the assembled people : 
 the Chief Rabbi pronounced a discourse recounting 
 Spinosa' s crimes against his faith. Then all present 
 approached the centre of the synagogue, and held 
 their tapers sideways over a large cauldron filled 
 with blood ; and, while the candles slowly dripped 
 their wax into the blood, a chant was sung in low, 
 harsh tones, reciting the curses of men against the 
 infidel, and calling down upon him the vengeance of 
 the Most High. When the chant came to an end, 
 the tapers were suddenly extinguished in the blood, 
 and the synagogue was filled with darkness, and 
 there reigned the silence of the grave." 
 
 It is satisfactory to reflect that Spinosa recovered 
 some amount of cheerfulness after the performance 
 of this horrible ceremony. Almost the only fact 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. Ill 
 
 connected with his life that I can recollect is that, 
 in late life, he used to derive amusement from mak- 
 ing spiders fight together in a box ; whereat, it is 
 reported, he would laugh till the tears ran down his ^ 
 cheeks. Although personally I entertain no sym- 
 pathy with the philosopher's merriment, and could 
 look at fighting spiders by the hour without a laugh, 
 it is pleasant to know that Spinosa was not one of 
 those eminent characters who, after some great 
 tragical event in their lives, '' never," as our School 
 Histories say, ''were seen to smile again." 
 
 Devising of these and kindred topics, we passed 
 through the somewhat dreary district which leads to 
 Mirandella — a country of upland rye-fields, vines, 
 chestnuts, and cork-trees, but showing much bare, 
 reddish-yellow soil — a district neither fertile nor 
 picturesque. Of Mirandella there is not more to be 
 said than that it has a pretty name, and a pretty 
 situation on a hill-side, with the Eiver Tua flowing 
 below. The inn is clean, the landlady attentive. 
 She regaled us with " carneiro de for.no " — so she 
 called it — baked mutton, which is an uncommon . 
 meat in Portugal, except in the highlands. In 
 Lisbon, Oporto and other large cities, nothing is so 
 rare and nothing so bad as the mutton ; and of the 
 natives of all classes in these cities, probably not 
 one in a hundred has ever tasted this meat. 
 
 The Portuguese is remarkably conservative and 
 
112 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 little various in liis dinner arrangements, and it 
 would be safe to predicate of a thousand Portuguese 
 of the upper and middle classes, that the dinner of 
 nine hundred and ninety-nine of them, on any day 
 except Friday, would consist of " Game com arroz,'^ 
 stewed beef and rice; not forgetting the famous 
 " Caldo,^* the beef broth, with cabbages, bacon, 
 haricot beans, etc. On Friday, it would be, 
 '' Bacalhao e batatas,^' dried cod-fish and potatoes. 
 
 My Jewish friend had some business in Miran- 
 della the next morning, and I could not wait for 
 him, having a long ride to Villa Real, so I started 
 alone. I rested two hours in the heat of the day, 
 at a farmer's house by the way. He hospitably gave 
 my horse a feed of corn, and for my benefit he 
 opened a bottle of very old wine, a fine strong liquor 
 which would pass for port, setting before me with it 
 an excellent preserve, made of pumpkins, and some 
 wheaten bread. We are here but a league or two 
 from the strip of land on each side of the Douro in 
 which port wine is made, and the wine already par- 
 takes of the character of that which is made in this 
 famous district. 
 
 My host accompanied me on his pony for a mile 
 or two, and, the conversation having turned upon 
 ghostly legends, he told me in the most matter-of- 
 fact manner of one of the superstitions current 
 among these hills ; which, without being particularly 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 113 
 
 interesting, is more unnaturally horrible than any 
 belief of the kind I ever heard of. The people, he 
 told me, beheve that if a child dies before the first 
 communion, without receiving extreme unction, the 
 witches {''Bruxas'') have the power of digging it 
 up at night-time from its grave with their nails, and 
 that having done so they carry the body into the 
 hills and there feast upon it ; and if on the way they 
 pass a sleeping shepherd lying amidst his flock, they 
 will drag the dead child by the hair over his body 
 and over those of the sheep, and every living thing 
 that this happens to dies before the morning. 
 
 Villa Eeal is a singular place, high up on the 
 crest of a steep mountain, and surrounded on two 
 sides by ancient walls, which crown a sheer precipice 
 of several hundred feet in height, below which flows 
 the River Corgo, full of cascades and broken water. 
 A broad and fertile valley separates the hill on 
 which stands Villa Eeal from the fine range of the 
 Marao, which is clearly visible, from its highest 
 peaks to its foot, fi:om the ramparts of Villa Real. The 
 town has a charter from King Diniz, que fez quanto 
 quiz — as the popular saying of him runs — lolio did 
 what he chose ; clearly an imputation of arbitrariness 
 suggested by the obvious rhyme, for King Dennis 
 was, on the whole, the best and wisest sovereign the 
 Portuguese ever had. An old church with gro- 
 
 8 
 
114 TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 tesque corbel-table, in tlie west corner of the town, 
 and its surrounding poor looking, granite-built 
 houses of immense solidity, are, I have no doubt, 
 buildings of the time of this monarch; i.e., the end 
 of the thirteenth century. The church itself is poor, 
 and not interesting, having been repaired and re- 
 stored at a much later date. Another church, off the 
 main street, and standing detached, is more interest- 
 ing. The western window is of good early four- 
 teenth century work. The roof, in the Italian style 
 of the early part of the seventeenth century, is 
 curious, the whole wagfo-on roof beins: divided into 
 panels, each surrounded by a heavy gilt frame, and 
 containing a fairly executed oil picture. .As works 
 of art they are of no value, but the effect is singu- 
 larly rich. 
 
 Villa Eeal, though an out-of-the-way place, with 
 a detestable climate, — *' com nove mezes de inverno e 
 tres de inferno" the local proverb says : — with a long 
 winter and a very hot summer — could never have 
 been an agreeable place of residence, and yet, like 
 many of the small towns in North Portugal, it 
 seems to have been in former days the chosen home 
 of three or four wealthy families. One fine mansion, 
 almost a palace in size, occupies half the side of the 
 principal "^ra^a," or square, and looks singularly 
 out of place in so small a town. 
 
 The existence of so many magnificent private 
 
TBAVELS m FOBTUGAL. 115 
 
 houses in these remote country towns is in many 
 cases due to the immense wealth brought home from 
 India and from Brazil during the seventeenth and 
 eighteenth centuries. Many noble families declining 
 into poverty and insignificance, suddenly found 
 themselves possessed of splendid fortunes ; but the 
 captains and successful adventurers in these distant 
 lands wei*e not always noble, and many obscure citi- 
 zens of the smaller towns, whose existence had, no 
 doubt, been forgotten for years, returned to their 
 fellow-townsmen loaded with foreign gold. It is 
 these latter men chiefly who built the gorgeous 
 palaces in remote parts of Portugal ; choosing 
 rather to dazzle the inhabitants of their native towns 
 than to live in tJie capital among wealthier and more 
 courtly men than themselves. 
 
 There is nothing that would strike a traveller 
 fresh from England, Germany, or France more than 
 the great rarity of real country houses in Portugal. 
 It is entirely against the genius of the people to live 
 a country life. The Portuguese is too sociable to 
 endure to be surrounded only by woods and fields, 
 and mountains. He has many of our northern 
 tastes ; he likes field sports in moderation ; he rides, 
 in his own style, better than any nation in Europe 
 except ourselves ; he has a sincere delight in country 
 life and country scenery, but he cannot long support 
 the utter solitude of the country. A Portuguese 
 
116 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 nobleman, if lie be ricli enougli, lives in Lisbon or 
 Oporto, and if lie lias a country house will visit it 
 for a month or two in the autumn ; even then he 
 will often rather endure the misery of a seaside 
 lodging among a crowd than go inland. The larger 
 of the country towns have streets full of gentlemen's 
 houses ; and here vegetate, from year to year, 
 families who are just rich enough to live upon their 
 incomes without working. To live, indeed, as the 
 Portuguese do in such towns, need cost but little. 
 A large house, with a plot of cabbages — a kale yard 
 — behind *it; with whitewashed walls, floors un- 
 carpeted, a dozen wooden chairs, one or two deal 
 tables ; no fireplace, not even a stove, either in sitt- 
 ing-room or bed-room ; no curtains to the windows, 
 no covers to the tables ; no pictures on the walls ; 
 no mirrors ; no table pleasantly strewn with books, 
 magazines, newspapers, and ladies' work ; no such 
 thing visible as a pot of cut flowers ; no rare china, 
 no clocks, no bronzes — none of the hundred trifles 
 and curiosities with which, in our houses, we show 
 our taste, or our want of it, but which either way 
 give such an individual character and charm to our 
 English homes. All these negatives describe the 
 utterly dreary habitations of the middle-class Por- 
 tuguese. 
 
 For occupations, the women do needlework, 
 gossip, go to mass daily, and look out of window by 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 117 
 
 tlie hour. Except the one short walk to church at 
 eight o'clock in the morning, a Portuguese lady 
 hardly ever appears in the streets. As for the men, 
 they lounge about among the shops, they smoke 
 innumerable paper cigarettes, they take a '' siesta " 
 in the heat of the day. If there is sunshine, they 
 stand in groups at the street corner, with umbrellas 
 over their heads ; in winter, they wear a shawl over 
 their shoulders, folded and put on three-cornerwise, 
 as a French or English woman's shawl is worn : for 
 this is a fashion in Portugal, and the Spaniards 
 laugh a good deal at their neighbours on the score of 
 their being a nation who invert the due order of 
 things, and whose women wear cloaks and the men 
 shawls. In these towns there is never any news, 
 and if two men are seen in eager discussion of some 
 matter of apparently immense importance, and if 
 one happens to pass near enough to overhear the 
 subject of conversation, be sure that one of them is 
 plunged in despair or kindling with enthusiasm at a 
 fall or rise of a halfpenny in the price of a pound 
 of tobacco. An American gentleman of my ac- 
 quaintance told me that he had never passed two 
 Portuguese in conversation without hearing one of 
 two words spoken, " testao " or " rajoariga,^' finance 
 or love ! 
 
 There are not even fashions for them to think 
 about ; young men and old men dress alike, but the 
 
118 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 younger ones wear exceedingly tight boots, and 
 " when they take their walks abroad "it is obvious 
 that they do so in considerable discomfort. The 
 young men, however, have one occupation more im- 
 portant even than wearing tight boots, and which 
 almost, in fact, goes, with it — that of making the 
 very mildest form of love known amongst men. The 
 process, indeed, is carried on in so Platonic a man- 
 ner, and with so much proper feeling, that I doubt 
 if even the strictest English governess would find 
 anything in it to object to. The young gentlemen 
 pay their addresses by simply standing in front of 
 the house occupied by the object of their affections, 
 while the young person in question looks down 
 approvingly from an upper window, and there the 
 matter ends. They are not within speaking distance, 
 and have to content themselves with expressive 
 glances and dumb show ; for it would be thought 
 highly unbecoming for the young lady to allow a 
 billet doux to flutter down into the street, while the 
 laws of gravitation stand in the way of the upward 
 flight of such a document — unweighted, at least, 
 with a stone, and this, of course, might risk giving 
 the young lady a black eye, or breaking her father's 
 window panes. So the lovers there remain, often 
 for hours, feeling no doubt very happy, but looking 
 unutterably foolish. These silent courtships some- 
 times continue for very long periods, before the 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 119 
 
 lover can ask the fatal question, or the lady return 
 the final answer. I heard a story of one such pro- 
 tracted courtship which an ingenious novelist might 
 easily work into a pretty romance. 
 
 About forty or fifty years ago, before the sup-^ 
 pression of convents in Portugal, a young lady was 
 engaged to be married. For some reason or other, 
 the marriage did not come ofi*, and the girl was 
 placed in a Benedictine nunnery at Oporto. Soon 
 after came the abolition of convents ; but while the 
 monasteries were absolutely dissolved, and the 
 monks scattered, the nuns who v/ere already inmates 
 of religious houses were suffered there to remain. 
 The young lady, accordingly, on the suppression 
 occurring did not leave the Benedictine convent. 
 It is to be presumed, however, that the rules of this 
 particular establishment were somewhat relaxed, 
 for the young gentleman who had been engaged to 
 this nun was observed to take his constant stand 
 before the barred window of his former mistress's 
 cell, while she would become visible behind the 
 grating. Here the romance I have imagined would 
 perhaps rather lack incident, and, except in a 
 master's hand, might grow monotonous, for this 
 hopeless courtship lasted no fewer than four-and- 
 thirty years, till a bowed and middle-aged man 
 paced the pavement, and looked up to a grey-haired 
 mistress. It only ended with the death of the lady, 
 
120 TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 a few years ago. Many persons have assured me 
 that they had often been eye-witnesses of what 1 
 have described, and I found that the fact was quite 
 notorious in Oporto. It will, of course, be under- 
 stood that the stagnating life I have described, with 
 its narrow circle of interests and its little mean- 
 nesses of household detail, is confined to the half- 
 educated, middle class inhabitants of small country 
 towns. The higher native society of Lisbon, with 
 its courtly influences, and that of Oporto — which 
 holds the same relative position to Lisbon that 
 Edinburgh did to London before the days of steam — 
 can compare with that of any capital of Europe. 
 The men are high-bred, courteous, and intelligent, 
 and the ladies have a charm of manner and talents 
 for society which all foreigners admit. 
 
 Leaving Villa Real for the banks of the Douro, 
 my road lay through a broad fertile valley ; but 
 soon, as I ascended the ridge of mountains which 
 separates the valley of Villa Eeal from the port 
 wine district, I became entangled in a network of 
 paths, among which I should have lost my way, had 
 I not brought a guide. Passing six or seven miles 
 of half- cultivated land, we gradually lost the signs 
 of cultivation as we got to the mountain ridge ; we 
 then descended slantingly the shoulder of a great 
 mountain, and finally, as we rounded its eastern 
 
TRAVELS IN FOBTUGAL. 121 
 
 slope, still very higli up, I got the first view of the 
 Douro, and of the country where port wine is grown 
 — a region which, in its way, has not its equal in 
 Europe. On either side of the river Douro lies a 
 district, about twenty- seven miles in length and six 
 or seven in breadth, of steep hills, with narrow, 
 ravine-like valleys ; the soil a naked, yellow-brown 
 slaty schist ; the configuration of the land like that 
 of the South Downs at Lewes, but loftier, less 
 rounded, and more precipitous. Looked at from 
 where I now stood and seen in the thin atmosphere 
 of early morning, with every detail sharp and clear 
 as in a photograph, with hill beyond hill extending 
 confusedly below, the appearance was that of a 
 wilderness of utterly bare and arid peak and valley. 
 Not a tree* and hardly a leaf was visible, for the 
 vines, later here than in the lowlands, had as yet 
 scarcely burst their buds. In curious contrast to 
 this seeming barrenness are such evidences of 
 immense human labour, as I suppose we should 
 have to go to China or Japan to see anything 
 to compare with. All over the sides of each 
 acclivity, stone terraces have been built, in lines 
 running parallel with the horizon ; and in the poor, 
 schistous soil thus kept from being washed away by 
 
 * There are plenty o£ olive and other trees in the wine district, 
 but they are in the ravines and valleys, and make a scanty show 
 in any landscape. 
 
122 TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 the rains of winter, the vines wliicli make port 
 wine are grown. The lines of terrace are in most 
 places separated from each other by only a few 
 yards ; and the effect of them would be shown on 
 paper by representing the hills first, and then draw- 
 ing over their surface . innumerable faint horizontal 
 lines with a pencil. Artistically the effect is hidaous ; 
 its singularity is its only attraction. A new and 
 strange aspect is given, not to a single hill or 
 valley, but to a whole wide range of mountains ; 
 and if Portugal were to lapse into an uninhabited 
 wilderness to-morrow, this monument of man's 
 accumulated handiwork would probably outlast 
 every single work of Eoman, Goth, Saracen, or 
 Portuguese. 
 
 Soon we began to descend a very steep bridle- 
 path — so steep, indeed, that it took in places the 
 appearance of a stone staircase — and I was forced to 
 lead down my horse. We reached the Douro, and 
 I found it a bold, rapid river, running in a narrow, 
 rocky trough. The country, though so productive, 
 is not by any means fertile-looking, nor in the least 
 degree picturesque. 
 
 I was now in the centre of the region of port 
 wine production, generally spoken of as the Douro 
 District. The flavour of the wine here produced 
 depends upon the nature of the soil,* certainly not 
 
 * Here is a careful ctemical analysis of the soil of one of the 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 123 
 
 upon its richness, for tlie surface of tlie vineyards 
 looks like the rubbish thrown up from a stone 
 quarry ; and it depends also upon the great heat of 
 the summer in a district shut off by lofty hills from 
 the north and north-east. The cold of winter 
 among these high-lying lands is, however, for Por- 
 tugal, very considerable : snow falls and lies, even 
 in the valleys, and frost often lasts for the whole 
 twenty-four hours. This comparative cold arrests 
 the winter growth of the vine, and gives it the rest 
 which the plants of temperate climates require, and 
 is probably one cause of the superiority of produce 
 of these vines over those grown in other parts of 
 Portugal. 
 
 The port of our forefathers was not grown in the 
 district where the finer port wine is now produced. 
 The little river Corgo joins the Douro a few miles 
 below where I now found myself, and its stream 
 divides a district of lower elevation and greater fer- 
 tility from the precipitous hill country which I had 
 but recently been contemplating. The upland vine 
 is less productive, but makes a finer wine than that 
 
 finest vineyards in the district : — In 100 parts there are 1"30 of mois- 
 ture, 3'40 of organic matter combined with water, 3'70 of sesqui- 
 oxide of iron, '80 of protoxide of iron, 6*40 of alumina, '20 of 
 sulphate of lime, 1"10 of magnesia, "10 of phosphoric acid, all the 
 above being more or less soluble in acid ; and of insoluble consti- 
 tuents, in the same 100 pai'ts are 2*40 of potash, 13*20 of alumina, 
 •40 of magnesia, '50 of lime, and 66*50 parts of silica. This is the 
 soil which makes the best wine in the world. 
 
124. TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 grown in the plain. ** Montibus clivisqne difficulter 
 vineae convalescunt sed firmum probumque saporem 
 vini prsebent," says Columella, and the axiom holds 
 good still. For a long time the wines of '' Embaixo 
 do Corgo " — the land below the Corgo — alone were 
 used in making port wine. The two bottles a day 
 consumed by Pitt, and the four bottles of Lord Eldon 
 were "Lower Corgo" wines. The wine is still 
 produced, and is, in wine merchants' phrase, an 
 " elegant " wine ; but inferior in flavour and body 
 to the wine of the "Upper Corgo." It was, no 
 doubt, a great improvement upon the wines which 
 were obtainable at the beginning of the eighteenth 
 century : for instance, upon the Florentine wines, 
 which Swift, in a letter to Stella, complains would 
 not keep sound ; and upon the red wines of Mon^ao 
 and the Bairrada, which upon the passing of Lord 
 Methuen s treaty with Portugal in 1703, were im- 
 ported respectively from the ports of Vianna and 
 Figueira under the name of Portugal wine. These 
 wines, the rougher Burgundies and, for very wealthy 
 people, the wines of Bordeaux, were what our great- 
 grandfathers had to choose from in the way of red 
 wine ; and it is not surprising that they came to pre- 
 fer the sound, wholesome wine of the Lower Corgo, 
 comparatively flavourless as it was, to most of its 
 competitors ; which, like the cheap claret of the 
 present day, seem to have been, for the mo?t part, 
 
TEAVELS m PORTUGAL. 125 
 
 various forms of grape vinegar made endurable witli 
 burnt sugar and gypsum. 
 
 Port wine has a literature of its own ; and the 
 controversy that a few years ago raged on the sub- 
 ject was almost as serious as the famous polemical 
 dispute, in the last century, between the rival ad- 
 mirers of champagne and Burgundy. In the French 
 controversy, odes, sonnets and epigrams, as well as 
 heavy prose, were bandied from side to side : in the 
 port wine discussion, nothing lighter than a double 
 pamphlet or an octavo volume was discharged. A 
 great deal of ignorant nonsense, and a great deal of 
 interested nonsense was written on both sides ; and 
 the end of it all is that more and better wine is now 
 made and shipped from this district than ever was 
 known before. Lest I should be supposed, however, 
 to wish to contribute to either of the above cate- 
 gories of literature, I will say no more upon the 
 subject. 
 
 Sleeping a night at Eegoa, where many of the 
 wine merchants have houses and agents, I followed 
 a good road on the following day to Oporto. We 
 made a slow ascent of several leagues up the Marao 
 Mountains, passing continuous vineyards, till Mezao- 
 frio is reached ; and the cultivated country being 
 past, the road winds among the clefts and ravines of 
 bluff, round-topped granite mountains, with here and 
 there a huge boulder of stone. At the very top of 
 
126 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 the pass is the village, or rather, the solitary inn — 
 for I saw no other house — of Quintella. 
 
 In the old times, before the road existed from 
 Oporto to Kegoa, the English wine merchants had 
 to make the journey on horsebacfc at the time of the 
 vintage. On the third night they arrived at Quin- 
 tella, and dined together by previous appointment — 
 a large and friendly party. Tradition says that no 
 small quantity of the staple of these gentlemen's 
 business was consumed on these occasions. Mutual 
 confidences were, no doubt, freely made; but the 
 secresy of the grave was maintained on one point, 
 viz., the plan each had formed for the campaign 
 among the farmers of the wine region. Then, ci^as 
 ingens iterabimus ceqitor, on the morrow each man 
 divested himself of his sociability and rode off alone, 
 secretly, and distrustfully of all other men, to buy the 
 new wine. 
 
 The large room, with its painted cornice and 
 ceiling, in which these pleasant 'and convivial meet- 
 ings used to take place, was shown me, and the 
 numerous tiny bed-rooms near it — conveniently near 
 it. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Luxuriance of Vegetation on Westetii Slopes of Marao Hills — A Large 
 Cactus — Affair letween General Loison and Portuguese Troops at 
 Amarante — Cinque-cento Ornamentation of Church of 8 an Gon- 
 ^alo—SJcetch of Progress of Christian Architecture in Portugal — 
 Legend of Saint GonQalo— Undeserved III Repute of People of 
 Amarante— An Unluchy and Foolish Mining Company — Curious 
 Waterproof Gloah — Portuguese Peasantry Lineal and Unchanged 
 Lescendants of Conquerors of the Saracens and Castilians — Old 
 Charters — Breed of Horses Grossed ivith Arab Blood in Moorish 
 Times — Vallongo — Its Ancient Gold Mines — A Toy Mine at Work — 
 Mining Prospects of Portugal — Oporto — Its History — Its Famous 
 Siege — Is the Centre of Political and Commercial Movement in 
 Portugal — The Douro ; its Dangerous Bar — An Old Roman Beacon, 
 
 QuiNTELLA is tliG highest point of the pass across the 
 mountains of the Marao. A descent of about twelve 
 miles leads down to the rich valley of the river 
 Tamega and past the town of Amarante on its 
 banks, famous for its wine and for its peaches. The 
 road down to Amarante winds prettily through high- 
 placed valleys and mountain ravines, richly clothed 
 with cork and chestnut woods, with springs and 
 runnels leaping noisily down the hill sides, and here 
 and there a distant view of a valley far below, with 
 a stream of water in its centre. 
 
128 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 These steep and lofty hills — their height is from 
 3000 to 4000 feet — ^by cutting off the cold east 
 winds which blow from the great Spanish plateau, 
 and leaving the land exposed to the mild, water- 
 laden breezes from the sea, produce a climate which 
 is quite different from that of the eastern side of the 
 range, the region of the port wine growth before 
 mentioned, with the fierce heat of its summers and 
 the excessive cold of its winters. On the seaward 
 slopes of the hills the summers are cool and damp, 
 and the winters comparatively warm. The fine 
 growth of the trees and the vivid green of the grass 
 and undergrowth testify to this ; and a still more 
 marked evidence is to be seen in the development of 
 a particular cactus plant about half-way down the 
 mountain. I doubt if there be many larger plants 
 of this family in Europe. It grows on the south 
 side of a rather lofty two-storied house, and has 
 already reached to above the eaves. I measured the 
 stem near the ground, and found it nineteen inches 
 in circumference, the size of a young lady's waist.* 
 The species is, if I mistake not. Cactus Peruvianus. 
 All the tribes of cactus, gardeners tell us, require a 
 damp summer temperature of from sixty to ninety 
 degrees of Fahrenheit, and a winter temperature 
 
 * Perkaps I am libelling the fair sex. I have read in a contribu- 
 tion to a lady's newspaper that no young lady's waist should exceed 
 " thirteen inches in circumference ! " 
 
• •9 * 
 
 
 • • •> 
 
 
 *., 
 
 >>>9 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, 129 
 
 never lower tlian forty degrees. Sucli a climate is 
 probably very nearly that of this mountain side. 
 
 The fine old bridge over the Tamega, the pic- 
 turesque group of a church and old monastic build- 
 ings on the west side, and the tete-de-jpont on the 
 east of the river, all show the marks of French 
 cannon-balls ; and the blackened ruins and the small 
 round holes made by the field pieces in the walls on 
 the east side — held by General Silveira with his 
 Portuguese troops against the French under Loison, 
 in 1809 — are as plain as if the houses had been set 
 in flames and the guns fired yesterday. 
 
 The church of San Gonyalo at Amarante, with 
 its elaborate " flamboyant *' facade, ornamented with 
 life-size stone figures of the cinque-cento period, its 
 red- tile covered " lantern," and western tower, is in- 
 teresting as an architectural study, and as an example 
 of how the great Christian style of architecture, 
 falling with age into over ornamentation and over 
 attention to elaboration of detail, and neglect of keep- 
 ing, was sinking, in the end of the fifteenth century, 
 into decadence ; and how a natural reaction against 
 its exuberance grew into the chaster and tamer art 
 of the cinque-cento. When these two styles again 
 amalgamated into the so-called " plater es que " of 
 the Peninsula ; when the architect cut and almost 
 chased the stone of his buildings, in rivalry with the 
 elaborate work of the goldsmith : when his leading 
 
130 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 idea seemed to be to make a building a huge, 
 ornamented stone casket, such as we see in 
 many Peninsular churches — notably at Burgos and 
 at Batalha — architecture seemed to have absolutely 
 taken leave of its senses. A reaction was clearly 
 required again ; and it took place, only too com- 
 pletely, in what may be termed the Jesuit style of 
 the seventeenth century, of which all travellers in 
 Portugal meet such innumerable and such painful 
 examples. Plain buildings, regular in outline ; the 
 tall facade, with its belfry tower having shapeless 
 pinnacles at the corners, often ending in flames cut in 
 stone ; the hideous sky-line, with its ugly, scroll-like 
 curves ; the statues in their niches, in affected atti- 
 tudes, and clothed in half- classical drapery floating 
 to the winds; the Rococo style of ornament, with all 
 its false taste, and without any of the freedom and 
 richness of the true Rococo, This style took root in 
 about 1650, and, to the shame of Portuguese taste, 
 it still prevails. 
 
 I have thus briefly sketched the later develop- 
 ment of church architecture, as we see it in Portu- 
 gal. Its earlier progress is peculiar, as might be 
 expected from the isolation of the kingdom, but is 
 in more or less harmony with the great movement in 
 the Christian building art throughout Northern and 
 Western Europe. The ruthless destruction of fine 
 old Gothic churches in the seventeenth and eighteenth 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 131 
 
 centuries, under the influence of the Jesuits, and 
 their replacement by the tasteless buildings of the 
 order, have gone a long way to make Portugal a 
 barren country for the ecclesiologist ; but . in the 
 poorer and more out-of-the-way districts, many in- 
 teresting remains of Gothic architecture are still to 
 be found. 
 
 The first true Christian architecture in Portugal 
 is a rude early Eomanesque ; then the finer massive 
 Eomanesque contemporaneous with our own so-called 
 Norman architecture, but extending to a later date ; 
 following upon that, the various successive develop* 
 ments of the pointed Gothic, borrowing a little in 
 lightness and in • ornamentation from the Saracen 
 architecture; afterwards, the well-marked, elabo- 
 rate Flamboyant, coincident with our own Perpendi- 
 cular, mingling, as I have shown, in its decadence 
 with the renaissance style imported from Italy in the 
 sixteenth century, and growing into the mad luxuri- 
 ance of the " Plateresque," which the ignorant and 
 tasteless love, and the true artist himself can hardly 
 forbear from lingering over half- admiringly. Then 
 the death of all true art-feeling under the cankeriug 
 influence of the gloomy Jesuits — an influence curi- 
 ously coincident, in time and degree, with' Puri- 
 tanical influences in our own country. 
 
 San Goncalo, the patron saint of Am^arante, 
 
132 TRAVELS IK PORTUGAL. 
 
 was a very respectable saint in the thirteenth cen- 
 tury ; and is so far connected with Amarante and 
 its river, that he is reputed to have charmed the 
 fish out of the Tamega, to serve as food for the 
 crowds of workmen whom he had assembled to 
 build the bridge at Amarante. This excellent and 
 benevolent saint is credited with being the patron ot 
 a certain class of persons of bad repute, natives ot 
 Amarante, who are said to resort to Oporto and 
 other large towns, and there assume a more or less 
 public character. I am happy to be able to be- 
 lieve that both town and saint are libelled in this 
 accusation. 
 
 From Amarante over a barren country to the 
 solitary wayside inn, at Oasaes, where it is better to 
 pass the night than to go further and fare worse ; 
 from there the road brings the traveller to Penafiel, 
 celebrated for its horse fair, and the abode of many 
 families of gentle birth ; thence through a broad, 
 well- wooded valley, to the hills of Baltar ; cutting, 
 in one place, through a lode of copper ore, with 
 which the road was actually metalled for nearly a 
 hundred yards. A passing Englishman, struck by 
 the green colour of the stones, picked up one, and 
 found it heavy and ore-bearing. Straightway the 
 Oporto Mining Company was formed; and some 
 English and some Portuguese shareholders may 
 remember that the company sank many shafts and 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 133 
 
 mucli money in trying to come upon the vein of ore. 
 It never was found, however, and the company is 
 now wound up. I gob down to look at the remains 
 of the works; the abandoned shafts are in an 
 orchard close to the road on the north side, and 
 enough of very unmetalliferous looking granite has 
 been " brought to turf " to build a church. It seems 
 incredible that the simple expedient of following the 
 lode by an adit on the other side of the road, where 
 it is still visible in a low bank, never appears to have 
 occurred to any one. They dived for it, in fact, at 
 great expense in a place where it might have been, 
 but was not ; but they never thought of burrowing 
 for it, and following it in a place where it actually 
 lay before their eyes. What a sermon might a 
 moralist not inflict on us upon this text ! 
 
 There was a fair or market going on somewhere 
 on the road, and I overtook several parties of sturdy 
 farmers on horseback. Many of them carried long 
 ox-goads in their hands ; and as the day was rainy, 
 they wore the curious waterproof cloak, made of 
 rushes, which is peculiar to this province of the 
 Minho — a waterproof which has many advantages 
 over the very best mackintosh coat ; being, in the 
 the first place, much lighter ; in the second place it 
 does not make the wearer hot or give him a head- 
 ache, nor smell of tar ; in the third place, a good 
 
131 TRAVELS IN VOUTUGAL. 
 
 one costs less than a sliilling. Its appearance, how- 
 ever, is rather against it, and the wearer looks 
 exactly as if he were thatched with straw from head 
 to foot. These '';palhoQas " are extensively used by 
 all conditions of persons, and enable labouring men 
 to do field work on the rainiest days, when the 
 water descends in tropical torrents, and when 
 without some such protection, no out of door labour 
 could be done. Like many other customs and 
 institutions in this province, where the Eoman 
 colonists have left such numerous traces of their 
 presence, the '' palJioga'^ may perhaps be an inheri- 
 tance from Roman times, and may be the represen- 
 tative of the Toga viminalis of the Eomans — the toga 
 made of twigs. 
 
 It is difficult to look at these homely-looking men 
 with this singular thatch upon them, bestriding 
 their miserable little ponies, and to believe that both 
 men and ponies are lineal descendants of the cavaliers 
 and war horses who rode down the Saracens at 
 Ourique, and the Spaniards on the field of Alju- 
 barrota ; yet neither men nor ponies can be much 
 changed since those days. The ponies have probably 
 degenerated and dwindled to some extent; but I see 
 no reason why the men should have done so at all. 
 The Christian cavalry who rode with King Alfonzo 
 and King John were, for the most part, farmers and 
 tillers of their own lands ; and so they have continued 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 135 
 
 to this time. In the early days of the monarchy, a 
 man — that is, a warrior, for the nation was composed 
 of fighting men — who could keep a horse at his own 
 cost ; who, without being of noble birth, was yet above 
 the quality of the peoes, or rank and file of the infan- 
 try, enjoyed certain privileges. The heavy ^'jugada " 
 tax was I emitted in his case ; the tax that is levied 
 on every man who could keep a yoke or '^jugo^^ of 
 oxen. If in addition to all this, he were deemed 
 worthy, by his prowess or proved fidelity to receive 
 the '^ conthia'^ or ^'maravedis^' — the Royal Bounty 
 — he was entitled GavalJieiro de Espora dorada, a 
 Knight of the Golden Spur ; and, we may presume, 
 was privileged to wear a pair of them when he liked. 
 The possession of the horse, however, was the main 
 point ; and if the animal was not forthcoming at the 
 periodical inquisition at harvest or vintage time, the 
 ^^ jug a da ^^ was levied.* 
 
 * Tlie morals, manners, and customs of these ancient times are 
 so admirably and impartially exhibited in the old charters, without 
 any of the pious exaggerations of the monkish chroniclers, or the 
 rhetorical embellishments and political bias of later historians, that 
 I make no apology for here and there citing a passage from them. 
 There is certainly no pedantry in quoting dog-Latin, which a school 
 girl could read as easily as French. The jugada above mentioned 
 was less a tax than a quit rent paid for the land ; and tracts of 
 country, as often as they were conquered from the Moors, were 
 divided not among the great captains only, but parcelled out among 
 the more prominent of the rank and file of the army. Those who so 
 took land were to pay the king's tax on each yoke of oxen they kept, 
 and were to be ready to " ride by the king's hand " in his yearly 
 
186 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 As to the horses, it is to be noticed that thougli 
 they are small, seldom exceeding thirteen hands, 
 they are moderately strong and active ; and it may 
 be doubted if any Peninsular cavalry in the old time 
 was ever horsed upon anything larger than a Gallo- 
 way of fourteen hands. The indigenous horse of 
 every unsettled country is undersized ; and the large 
 cart-horses of England, and the heavy Flanders 
 races are only the result of careful breeding during 
 many generations, and rearing on abundant pas- 
 turage. The horse brought by the Saracens was the 
 Arab ; and the Arab is itself but a pony. It might 
 have been supposed that the taller, though less 
 active horse of Barbary would have been imported, 
 by a race of invaders coming from the very coast 
 where the Barb is bred ; but this is certainly not the 
 case. The high withers and other peculiarities in 
 the shape of the Barb are traceable in his most 
 
 forays. They were called "jugarios." The whole circumstances are 
 set forth in a Royal Charter of 1123, and show with admirable clear- 
 ness and brevity how the waste land about Viseu was to be peopled 
 with Christian warriors, and how a new and more stringent rule was 
 made as to the non-remission of the tax, if the horse were not duly 
 kept. " Completo anno si cavallum non habuerit, det sua jugada. 
 Et illos jugarios qui venerint in meam terram veniant ad forum de 
 jugada nova." "If the knight keeps no horse during the whole 
 year, he must pay the jugada, and those jugarios who shall settle in 
 my lands must come in on the new jugada tenure." It is noticeable 
 how, in this twelfth-century Latin, cases are disregarded; the 
 language, indeed, gradually sliding into modern Portuguese. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 137 
 
 remote descendants. The Godolpliin Arabian im- 
 ported into England in the time of Charles 11., was, 
 in truth, not an Arabian but a Barbary horse ; and 
 a close observer can, to this day, detect the Barb 
 lineage in the quarters, back and withers of his 
 descendants now upon the English turf. I have 
 never seen the slightest trace of such descent in the 
 horses of Portugal. So we may conclude that the 
 Moors and Arabs brought nothing but the true Arab 
 horse with them ; and with the greater confidence 
 as it is all but certain that the Barbary horse was 
 the product, in later times, of an intermixture 
 between the true Arab and an indigenous horse of 
 the Barbary coast. 
 
 It is probable that, to the Christian possessors of 
 the poor little hill ponies of Portugal, the advent of 
 the Arab horse was a perfect revelation in the way 
 of equine perfection. That warrior was a happy one 
 who could slay^a Saracen and steal his horse. Such 
 ail animal was a gift "to set before a king." How 
 much such a present was sometimes valued is shown 
 by a Royal grant, in 1110, to one Bernardo Pranco, 
 of certain houses in a town, curiously named Villa 
 Boa de Satan, near Yiseu, which declares that the 
 property shall be free of all Royal dues whatever : 
 " quia de te unum bonum ca vallum accepimus quem 
 *' adduxisti de terra Maurorum," — '' because you 
 " gave me a fine horse which you brought out of the 
 
188 TRAVELS IK PORTUGAL. 
 
 "land of tlie Moors." The horse of Portugal, 
 undersized as he is, still shows unmistakable traces of 
 Arab lineage.* 
 
 Coming on towards Oporto, we get among the 
 hills of Yallongo, a metal-bearing land whose mineral 
 wealth was extracted in ancient times, either by the 
 Phoenicians, the Romans, or the Moors, for it is not 
 settled which. The old shafts, galleries and drifts 
 are found in great numbers among these mountains ; 
 but it does not seem to be well established what ore 
 was got at Vallongo. It is generally said to have 
 been silver, which, however, the formation of the 
 rock makes unlikely. Pieces of quartz with gold 
 veins running through them, are sometimes picked 
 up by the shepherds on these mountains and brought 
 in for sale to the goldsmiths in Oporto ; and a brook 
 in the neighbourhood contains, as I myself ascer- 
 tained, minute particles of gold in its sands. The 
 rock is precisely of that character where gold may 
 be expected to be found in its original position ; i.e.^ 
 in quartzose veins crossing altered palasozoic slates, 
 in the vicinity of eruptive rocks. It is probable 
 therefore, that gold was the metal sought in the 
 
 * The modern Portuguese, who know nothing of a horse but how 
 to ride him on smooth ground, are beginning very injudiciously to 
 use the Barb — attracted by his size and substance, to breed from ; 
 the cross between this horse and the native mare is, as might be 
 supposed, an ugly " weed," fit for nothing but the" " manege." He 
 can neither trot, gallop, jump, nor last. 
 
TRAVELS m POBTUGAL. 139 
 
 mines on these hills ; and as gold mining could not 
 be profitably undertaken without very cheap labour, 
 and as no nation but the Romans had a strong 
 enough hold on the country to compel the use either 
 of " corvee " or slave labour, it is probable that the 
 mines were Roman mines, perhaps continued by the 
 Moors. 
 
 The only mine that was being worked at 
 Vallongo when I passed, was an antimony mine in 
 the hill side, close beliind the church of Yallongo. 
 I went to look at it, and found it a curiosity in its 
 way. It is quite a toy mine. The lode runs into 
 the hill at a spot where there is a pretty wooded dell, 
 with a little cascade tumbling down its side. The 
 miners were three in number — a man and two boys. 
 A small adit, or tunnel, had been made '^ upon the 
 lode ; " that is, following its course into the hill. A 
 man with a pickaxe, at the further end of this tunnel^ 
 dug out a little ore, and loaded a cart on four wheels, 
 of the size and appearance of a child's go cart, which, 
 when full, ran on wooden rails down the inclined 
 plane of the tunnel till it reached the works outside, 
 and then the boys unloaded it ; and while one of 
 them dressed the ore, the other dragged the empty 
 cart back to the miner inside. Every now and then, 
 the man in the tunnel got tired of his work, and 
 came out to sit down on the heap of ore and smoke 
 a cigarette. It was an innocent little mine, and I 
 
140 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 hardly suppose there is another conducted on such 
 simple principles, in the whole world. 
 
 There is no doubt that much profitable mining 
 is still to be done in Portugal, though little has yet 
 been accomplished. It is a curious fact that metal- 
 seekers would seem hitherto to have done nothing 
 but follow in the footsteps of the Eomans. A 
 mining engineer has informed me that he knew of 
 no existing Portuguese mine which had not, at 
 one time, been worked by the Eomans. That 
 people, having no powerful pumping engines, were 
 obliged to abandon mines, however remunera- 
 tive they might be proving, where the water 
 could gain access to the works in any quantity. 
 This gentleman told me that in a mine which he 
 was superintending, the workmen broke into an 
 old flooded gallery ; and when the water had been 
 pumped out, the ancient timber supports were 
 found to be still sound, and the men picked up 
 tool handles of obsolete forms, and Eoman lamps 
 made of pottery. 
 
 Nine miles, through a picturesque, hilly and 
 highly cultivated country, brings the traveller to 
 Oporto. On his way he is pretty sure to encounter 
 long strings of mules, bearing flour to Yallongo ; 
 the same animals having carried, in the morning, 
 the city's daily supply of wheaten bread. Almost 
 all the bread used in Oporto is baked at Yallongo, 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 141 
 
 and brought in every day on mule-back. This 
 singular and, at first sight, uneconomical proceed- 
 ing has prevailed at least since the days of King 
 Emmanuel, in 1500, and probably long before then ; 
 and the explanation of the fact, that bread can be 
 profitably made nine miles from where it is eaten, is 
 that the ovens at Vallongo can be cheaply heated 
 with the brushwood which grows abundantly on the 
 wooded hills round that town. 
 
 Oporto is a granite-built town of over a hundred 
 thousand inhabitants. Ifc should be entered from 
 the south, or by the river ; for then its picturesque 
 situation on precipitous cliffs, rising from the 
 river's edge, can be seen to most advantage. It is 
 a city of many fountains, and many green and 
 flourishing gardens ; but, considering its size, im- 
 portance and great antiquity, it has little in it to 
 attract the traveller. It need scarcely be remarked 
 that the right name of the city is " Porto," the port 
 or harbour, "0" being nothing but the definite 
 article prefixed. We are, I believe, the only Euro- 
 pean nation who do not call the town ''Porto." 
 It lies on the north side of the river; on the 
 south is the suburb of Gaya, which is even more 
 ancient than Oporto. A strong castle called Calla 
 or Gale, stood in ancient days on the chief height 
 of Gaya, and Gaya may boast of bestowing its 
 name upon all Portugal — Portus Gale, the Port of 
 
142 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Cale, was the name first given to the surrounding 
 district, and in time to the whole kingdom. 
 
 Oporto somewhat forgetfully calls itself Invwta 
 CAvitas, the unconquered city, but it has been taken 
 more than once. It was captured in a very 
 memorable manner, in 1809 ; and it may safely 
 be asserted that neither Goth, Moor, nor Spaniard 
 did the city so much harm, or caused so terrible 
 a carnage of inoffensive inhabitants as did Marshal 
 Soult and his French troops on that occasion. The 
 Portuguese have ]*ather a short historical memory 
 — I have seen the Peninsular War alluded to in an 
 inscription on a public monument in Lisbon, as the 
 occasion on which the Portuguese (with their allies) 
 drove the French out of Portugal! — ^but I doubfc if the 
 nation will ever forget the awful massacre of their 
 ancestors by the French soldiery, in the streets of 
 Oporto. 
 
 It proved itself, however, an Invicta Givitas to 
 Dom Miguel, in 1832, suffering on that occasion a 
 siege of eleven months' duration — a siege which 
 may almost be said to have been conducted on 
 peace principles, so small was the effusion of blood, 
 and so apparently slight the desire of either side 
 to injure the other. Perhaps all past history does 
 not afford the record of so long a siege conducted 
 with so little energy or enterprise on either side, 
 where so little military science was displayed, or 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAR U2 
 
 where the crowded inhabitants of a large town were 
 subjected to so few privations. The true explana- 
 tion of this is, of course, to be sought in political 
 causes, not in any degree in the character of the 
 combatants. Dom Pedro was a brave man, and his 
 brother, Dom Miguel, brave to the verge of impru- 
 dence. The contending armies were almost entirely 
 composed of Portuguese ; and no finer soldiers 
 exist. At the siege of Oporto, both parties were 
 playing a waiting game. However, the fate of 
 arbitrary rule resting on priestly influences was 
 decided by the event ; and the government of the 
 Liberals established by the energetic Dom Pedro 
 has lasted to this day, and it is to be hoped, and 
 indeed to be expected, that it will endure. 
 
 The Liberal Government which now happily 
 prevails in Portugal works, on the whole, mar- 
 vellously well, considering the long generations of 
 corrupt and iniquitous rule which had preceded it. 
 Notwithstanding the good sense of the Portuguese 
 people, which has taught them to appreciate a 
 representative Government and free institutions, 
 the Liberal party and Liberal proposals were at first 
 by no means welcomed in Portugal. The present 
 constitutional Government of Portugal, was, -in fact, 
 established by a species of " coup d'etat,'^ though 
 Liberals here or elsewhere would probably be slow 
 to admit it. Liberalism was, for a time, the cause 
 
144 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 of town against country — Lisbon and Oporto 
 against the whole kingdom ; indeed, for a time, it 
 was Oporto alone against all Portugal, and Lisbon 
 neutral. A vast majority of the people, all the 
 priests' party, all the peasantry, and most of the 
 smaller towns, were . in favour of Dom Miguel. 
 When Dom Pedro landed with ten thousand raw 
 troops, to fight for his daughter's succession and the 
 cause of freedom, his occupation of Oporto, and his 
 proposed defence of the city against the forces of 
 his brother, seemed, to all who did not know the 
 imbecility of Dom Miguel and his captains, to be 
 the proposal of a madman. The Pedroites won the 
 day at last, and placed Donna Maria Segunda on the 
 throne of Portugal ; not through any special activity 
 or wisdom of their own, but from the surprising folly 
 of their opponents. 
 
 Oporto is, and ever has been, the focus of all 
 revolution — the centre whence all change and move- 
 ment, whether political or commercial, has ex- 
 tended through the kingdom. Surrounded by the 
 most fertile provinces of Portugal — situated on a 
 river more or less navigable, the chief port of ship- 
 ment for the two most important staples of Portu- 
 guese production, port wine and cattle, and possess- 
 ing inhabitants more enterprising and enlightened 
 than those of other parts of the kingdom — Oporto 
 has become an important commercial and political 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 145 
 
 centre. Its commercial importance would be still 
 greater but for the dangerous bar at tlie mouth of 
 the Douro, over which vessels of more than five or 
 six hundred tons cannot pass. The channel across 
 the bar varies almost monthly, as the sands, 
 brought down by the river, shift with changing 
 winds and varying currents ; and the bar is, or is 
 ordered to be — for there is a difference — sounded 
 and examined daily. It would scarcely be believed 
 that, in a professedly civilized country, such a shift- 
 ing channel as this, and so short a one (for the 
 dangerous portion of it does not exceed two hundred 
 yards in length), should not be marked out by 
 buoys or beacons. The Portuguese are, in truth, 
 no less than fourteen centuries behindhand in this 
 matter; for an ancient Homan stone beacon was 
 fished up not long ago, which had evidently served 
 to mark a certain sunken rock, which still exists, 
 and has made acquaintance with many a ship's 
 bottom since this old Eoman monument, inscribed 
 *' Navigantmm Salutis Causa *' — fell from its place. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Foz, the Brighton of Oporto — Sea Bathing — Douro Boats— The Por- 
 tuguese a Trajjicking People, hut not Commercially Adventurous — 
 Churches of Oporto — Bemarhahle Historical Picture — The Douro, 
 Passage of, in 1812 — Curious Beputation of the Douro in Spain — 
 Fish and Fishing in the Biver — Ethnologij of Portugal — Variety 
 of Paces — Appearance of the People — Gold Ornaments of Moorish 
 Design — Bailway to Lisbon— Places on the Way—Marsh Scenery 
 — Coimhra — Erroneous Tradition about Inez de Castro — Univer- 
 sity of Coimbra ; its Connection with George Buchanan — Pombal 
 — Marguis of Pomhal the Bismarch of Portugal — His Life and 
 Character — Alcobagxi — Batalha, the Battle Abbey of Portugal- 
 Its Plateresque Style of Architecture — " Tanias El Bey," mean- 
 ing of — Objection to " Interviewing " Bespectable People, and 
 Picporting their Conversation— Conversation of Chance Acquain- 
 tances very Poor — An Instance. 
 
 The entrance to Oporto by sea is very fine. The 
 city, with its wharves and anchorage, Hes three miles 
 from the river's mouth, and the traveller who has 
 crossed the bar exchanges, in a moment, the always 
 miquiet waves of the Atlantic for the smooth water 
 of the Douro, which here forms an estuary, in which 
 are reflected the steep pine- covered hills beneath 
 which it winds its course. At the mouth of the river 
 is the little fishing village and watering-place of San 
 Joao da Foz — the Brighton of Oporto — with its 
 quaint red, green, and yellow houses, making pretty 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. U7 
 
 groups with the trees of the quintas, or gardens, 
 the grey towers of its two or three churches, and 
 the old granite-built castle, with its battlements and 
 projecting bartizans. A road shaded by plane trees 
 runs from the castle, between the river and the tall 
 cliffs, to the city ; and along this road, in the early 
 morning of any summer or autumn day, may be seen 
 crowds of men, women, and children, on horseback, 
 mule-back, or donkey-back, in public caleches or in 
 the tram-way carriages, going to and coming from 
 their sea bath. 
 
 The Portuguese have great faith in sea bathing, 
 and few persons take less than twenty or thirty baths 
 in the year. It is thought that the earlier in the 
 day and the later in the year a bath is taken, the 
 more efficacious it is. The bathers, men and women, 
 wear a fairly decent costume of blue or red serge. 
 Hundreds of small square wooden frames, covered 
 with canvas, are put up on the sands, in the bathing- 
 season, for dressing in ; and these form a perfect 
 little town, with streets and cross streets, in which 
 it is quite easy to lose one's way. Often an unfor- 
 tunate bather is seen coming out of the sea with 
 dripping and clinging and waterlogged garments, his 
 face and hands blue with cold, and looking in vain 
 for his own dressing-house in a crowd of others 
 exactly like it. 
 
 Soon after sunrise the bathers begin to arrive. 
 
148 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 and before seven there is a very gay and noisy as- 
 sembly on tlie sands. Flags of all colours flying 
 over the canvas town, donkey boys vociferating to 
 their customers, stout bathing men and women going 
 about, wet from head to foot, and with the radiant 
 expression peculiar to their tribe, young ladies in 
 pretty and fantastic bathing dresses, with their black 
 hair flying to the winds, children in red and blue 
 hoods, bands playing, and the shouting, talking, 
 laughing, and splashing of water, going on all at 
 once, make up a lively and amusing scene. 
 
 We come back to Oporto along the river side 
 road to where the ships and steamers are moored, 
 and boats of every sort dart about the river — of 
 every sort but steam-boats, of which there are none 
 except the ocean steamers from ports in Great 
 Britain. There are large, broad-beamed, sea-going 
 Ashing boats, with the pious legend, " Deus nos 
 guarde,^^ '' God keep us," painted in vermilion on the 
 sides, open boats with a huge, single lateen sail, fast 
 sailers on and off a wind, and among the finest models 
 in the world for getting through rough water. There 
 is the '^ Caique,'' in spite of its pure Arabic name, 
 nothing but a single- sculling dingy; the canoa, or 
 " dug out," made from a single tree; the '' Tolde " 
 boat, which is a clumsy imitation of a gondola ; the 
 Biga and Saveira, which are narrow boats, with bows 
 and stem peaked up to a point several feet above the 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 149 
 
 water, and quaintly painted in bright patterns. These 
 last boats are only used by the river fishermen near 
 the sea, and are unquestionably of Oriental form and 
 origin : the people who use them are a race diflfering 
 in dress, size, features, and manners from other 
 Portuguese, and may, perhaps, be of Greek — possibly 
 of Phoenician — origin. Then there are the flat-bot- 
 tomed wine boats, carrying a cargo of from twenty 
 to eighty pipes of port, from the port wine country, 
 sixty miles up the river, with their enormous square 
 sails and powerful oar- shaped rudders, thirty or 
 forty feet long, hung on an upright pintle or pivot, 
 and worked, in the rapids and sharp turns of the 
 river, by three or four men. A few strokes of this 
 great oar-rudder bring the boat completely round. 
 Then, again, there are the passenger boats, mostly 
 rowed by women, which carry crowds of working 
 men from and to their homes every morning and 
 evening. The rowing in Portugal is mostly done 
 standing, with the face towards the bows, as in Italy 
 and the East ; and the art of rowing sitting has only 
 been acquired at sea -ports from foreign sailors. 
 
 All this life and movement on the river is, how- 
 ever, the movement of social activity only ; of brisk 
 commercial activity there is very little sign. Yet 
 there is far more trading energy and movement 
 among the Portonians, as they of Oporto style 
 themselves, than among any other population in 
 
150 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 Portugal. What trade there is is divided between 
 Great Britain and Brazil — we having the lion's share. 
 The Portuguese, in truth, have never been greatly 
 successful as traders. Their magnificent foreign con- 
 quests and discoveries never resulted 'in prosperous 
 commercial relations with far-off countries. Thej 
 went forth, a noble band, in their great poet's words, 
 " dilatando a fc, o imperio," to spread their religion 
 and their dominion, but not to extend their com- 
 merce. The great wealth they undoubtedly did 
 acquire was, I am afraid, far more often wrung 
 painfully from a conquered people by the exactions 
 of the tax-gatherer, derived from the forced labour 
 of hard-driven slaves, or extorted in the shape of 
 bribes from the pockets of the wealthy, than acquired 
 by any sort of legitimate commerce. The Portuguese 
 are not born traders ; they are sharp enough as 
 traffickers in a small, peddling way; they delight 
 in bargaining and haggling ; and even a prosperous 
 man will spend hours over a bargain on which an 
 amount of five shillings shall depend; but they 
 wholly lack the boldness and the spirit of adventure 
 which distinguish the merchant from the tradesman, 
 I have heard, more than once, of negotiations be- 
 tween a Portuguese and an Englishman having lasted 
 for days ; the Portuguese actually wantiug spirit to 
 close, though to do so would be to his clear advan- 
 tage, and hoping that some trifle more would be 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 161 
 
 conceded to Mm, till at last the foreigner would 
 lose patience, and break off negotiations altogether. 
 
 Oporto possesses little of artistic or antiquarian 
 interest. The spacious Cathedral is of early pointed 
 Gothic — that is, it would have been if it had been 
 left alone ; but it has been modernized and iminovecl 
 out of all true Christian shape and appearance. The 
 cloisters retain most of the ancient work, but even 
 there the ''restorer" has been at his destructive 
 task. An immense solid silver altar, of late Renais- 
 sance work, is spoken of with great admiration by 
 the Portuguese ; an admiration excited by its size, 
 rather than by any, artistic merit it possesses. The 
 work, however, is decidedly good for the period. 
 
 Of other churches, that of San Francisco is a fine 
 building, singularly incrusted inside with vulgar gilt 
 wood carving of the last century, of a bad '' rococo " 
 character. This is a style of ornament which the 
 monks themselves manufactured ; and many an in- 
 teresting church has every square foot of its interior 
 hidden under the hideous mask. The Church of San 
 Francisco is one of the few Gothic edifices in Portu- 
 gal which an English ecclesiological writer has de- 
 scribed. Judging from an experience of English or 
 French church architecture, he is inclined to place the 
 ■date of this building at about 1280 ; it was, however, 
 built by King John I., in 1404, and a careful ex- 
 amination of details in the work will show that it is 
 
162 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 many years later tliaii the great monastic churcli afc 
 Lega do Balio, and this, we know for certain, was 
 built in 1330 — 36. The fact is that the progress of 
 mediaBval church architecture in Portugal did not at 
 all keep pace with its movement elsewhere; and 
 the most experienced ecclesiologist is sure to make 
 such blunders on a first inspection of Portuguese 
 buildings. 
 
 A small church near the Eua de Cedofeita is re- 
 puted to be the oldest in Portugal. It is asserted to 
 be a building dating from the time of the Goths ; a 
 claim to antiquity not supported by a single stone in its 
 structure. It is a plain and very ugly building, with 
 many restorations and additions, and is misleading to 
 an ignorant or casual inspector of it, because the 
 original round Romanesque arches have, in several 
 cases, been converted by the chisel of the mason into 
 pointed arches — of course, surhased and unshapely. 
 The Eomanesque capitals and mouldings are evidence 
 enough that the pointed form has been given at a later 
 date. 
 
 There is a collection of very poor pictures, by 
 native artists, in the Academy, and a number of still 
 poorer works in the Town Hall. In the offices of 
 the great Misericordia Hospital, founded by King 
 Emmanuel in about 1510, are preserved the por- 
 traits of all the benefactors of the institution since 
 that period, including several kings, bishops, and 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 153 
 
 oflScers of high rank in state and army. Such an 
 array of horrible daubs it was never before — and I 
 hope never will be again — my fate to contemplate. 
 This collection, which is representative of the art of 
 painting in Portugal, should suffice to explode the 
 utterly untenable theory of the existence, at any 
 period, of a great Portuguese School of Painting. 
 There are, however, two exceptions to the level bad- 
 ness of these execrable productions, amounting to 
 two or three hundred in number ; one, an admirable 
 portrait of a monk, by the so-called Portuguese 
 painter, Glamma, who died at the end of the 
 eighteenth century, — a work of merit enough to 
 found a reputation upon. Glamma, however, was 
 only a Portuguese by the mother's side ; his father 
 was an Italian. 
 
 The other exception is a large panel painting of 
 the highest value, by a Flemish artist, of the school 
 of Van Eyck, representing the founder. King 
 Emmanuel, with his Queen and the youthful Irmces 
 and Princesses, kneeling in adoration before a cru- 
 cifix whereon our Saviour is nailed. Above, on one 
 side, is the figure of St. John, opposite to a fine 
 draped figure of Our Lady. The Portuguese ascribe 
 this picture, as they ascribe almost every ancient 
 painting, to the mythical Gran Yasco, a Portuguese 
 painter who is believed to have flourished in the 
 sixteenth century. In the background is a beauti- 
 
154 TBAYELS INPOETUGAl 
 
 ful landscape, soft and tender in tone, in which 
 sundry details and incidents arc depicted which 
 sufficiently prove the Flemish origin of the picture — 
 a Gothic church-tower of a purely northern type of 
 architecture — a man using the peculiar Walloon 
 plough, with a pair, of heavy, grey Flanders horses 
 — a flock of geese feeding in a meadow ; another of 
 sheep. All this, together with the existence of a 
 painter's monogram, and the northern type of all 
 the faces, enables us to ascribe the work, with 
 absolute certainty, to a Flemish artist. The picture 
 contains some important historical portraits : besides 
 the King himself, there is his third wife, Queen 
 Eleanor, daughter of King Philip of Castile; Dom 
 Joao, afterwards King John III., the most pros- 
 perous sovereign of Portugal, appears as a boy of 
 sixteen ; Donna Isabel, who was married to the 
 Emperor Charles Y., is here a girl of fifteen ; Prince 
 Alfonzo is represented as a boy of ten or eleven. 
 On the floor behind the kneeling figure is his 
 cardinal's hat ; he was made a cardinal at nine 
 years of age, and as he v/as born in 1509, the date of 
 the picture is clearly indicated as being either 1519 
 or 1520. Next to him is Prince Henry, who was 
 also made a cardinal, and became king in the last 
 few months of his life, and with whom perished the 
 famous House of Burgundy, and the greatness and 
 independence of Portugal. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 155 
 
 The Douro, at Oporto, breaks througli a range of 
 granite hills, and flows tlirough the gorge thus 
 formed in a somewhat narrowed stream, with great 
 depth and force of current. On the highest point 
 of the precipitous, rocky bank on the right side of 
 the river, are the battlemented walls and towers of 
 the Santa Clara Nunnery ; and crowning a corres- 
 ponding and loftier eminence across the river are 
 the circular church and conventual buildings of the 
 Cruzios Monks. 
 
 This lofty and precipitous hill, known as the 
 ** Serra," commands Oporto ; and the city probably 
 owed its safety, in the long siege of 1832, to the fact 
 of these heights being held by a portion of the 
 garrison. Here it was that the chief part of the 
 fighting was done during that famous leaguer. The 
 unstopped shot-holes in the walls of the church are 
 as good a record of the fact as the very poor and 
 scanty chronicles we have of this siege — which as a 
 military event, was perhaps more memorable and 
 decisive of the fate of Portugal than any event since 
 the great battle of Alcacer Quibir, fatal to the 
 flower of Portuguese chivalry and to the indepen- 
 dence of the kingdom ; for the successful resistance 
 of Oporto in 1832 broke the strength of the Abso- 
 lutist usurper, Miguel, and laid th^ foundations of 
 the strong Constitutional Government which has 
 ever since prevailed. 
 
166 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 If the traveller walks some two hundred yards 
 along the crest of the hill on which the Serra Con- 
 vent stands, he will come to a rocky hillock ; and 
 ascending this, he will have, spread out like a map 
 beneath him, the scene of one of the boldest and 
 most skilful feats of arms that ever was accom- 
 plished in modern war. Beneath him, at the 
 bottom of some five hundred feet of precipitous 
 rock, rolls the Douro — at this spot a deep and tur- 
 bulent stream. A similar steep and craggy bank 
 opposite to him is crowned by a huge, square, 
 granite building, known as the '* Seminario." Up 
 stream from where he stands, the banks cease to 
 be rocky or precipitous, and the river flows in a 
 broad and gentle stream through rich meadows, 
 and by the walls of country houses and villages. 
 
 It was on this hillock that Wellington stood, on 
 the morning of the 12th of May, 1809. Soult was 
 in full occupation of the north bank, and of the 
 city opposite ; he had destroyed the bridge of boats 
 across the river ; his troops had scoured both banks 
 for miles, and had seized every boat that was to be 
 foimd. Having so taken these various precautions, 
 being in great force in a strong position, with an 
 unfordable river between himself and the enemy, 
 Soult considered — and according to all the rules of 
 war, justly considered — his position to be unassail- 
 able. 
 
TRAVELS m POBTUGAR 157 
 
 The problem for Wellington was, with raw 
 troops of which he had just taken command, 
 to cross the river and to dispossess Soult. 
 *' Alexander the Great himself," says Napier, 
 " might have turned from the undertaking without 
 shame." 
 
 Wellington, having taken command of the British 
 army but eighteen days before arriving at Oporto, 
 had halted at Coimbra, several days' march to the 
 south of the Douro ; and dividing his troops, 
 operated against the French by two roads — one over 
 the mountains towards the river, on the north bank 
 of which the French were in force ; and the other 
 by the sea, in the direct line to Oporto. Of this 
 latter small army of 14,000 men, Wellington himself 
 took command. The French had been encountered, 
 and had made a stand among the woods near the 
 ancient Monastery of Grijo, nine miles south of 
 Oporto ; but they were driven into the city, and, 
 after crossing by it, they destroyed the bridge of 
 boats. 
 
 Wellington arrived on the south side of the 
 river at eight o'clock on the morning of the 12th. 
 From the hillock I have mentioned he took in the 
 whole position ; he saw that if he could once get a 
 few resolute men into the " Seminario," on the 
 opposite bank, it could be held until his troops had 
 crossed. He sent General Murray three miles up 
 
168 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 tlie river witli tlie German Brigaclo and some 
 squadrons of tlie 19tli Dragoons, to search for 
 boats ; and lie meanwhile caused twenty pieces of 
 artillery to be dragged up tlie steep sides of the 
 Serra, The troops were still concealed by this hill 
 from the French garrison. In the meantime, a soli- 
 tary boat had been obtained ; for a poor barber of 
 Oporto had in the night run the gauntlet of the 
 French patrols, and come over the water in a small 
 skiff. In this, one or two English officers and a 
 Portuguese priest embarked, and crossing the river, 
 returned unperceived with three or four barges. 
 The British troops had crept up to the river's 
 brink ; and as the first boat touched the shore, an 
 officer and twenty-five soldiers of the Bufis crowded 
 into it, and in ten minutes were on the French side 
 of the Douro. Others followed ; the '* Semi- 
 nario," was gained. Then, suddenly, the alarm was 
 sounded in the French quarters, the drums beat to 
 arms, and masses of the enemy hurried up from all 
 sides, and poured furiously upon the " Seminario." 
 The citizens were seen at the windows of their 
 houses, gesticulating and making signals to their 
 coming deliverers. 
 
 The attack upon the small party of British was 
 fierce, and the defence stubborn. The English 
 leader was shot down. The French artillery began 
 to play upon the building; but the British guns 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 159 
 
 upon the Serra commanded the position, and their 
 fire swept one approach to it. The French, how- 
 ever, could double their numbers every minute : 
 they threatened to overpower the holders of the 
 building.. Murray, with his Germans, moreover, 
 failed to come up, though he had already crossed 
 the river. The moment w^as critical. Wellington 
 himself would have crossed, but for the entreaties of 
 those about him, and his confidence in the troops 
 engaged. Some of the townsmen now pushed 
 across the river in several great boats, and part of 
 General Sherbrook's division was able to get over and 
 to enter the city itself. The French began their 
 retreat. Their columns, travelling towards the east, 
 had to pass by the enclosure of the '' Seminario,'* 
 and our men poured a destructive musketry fire as 
 they passed. Volleys from Sherbrook's people 
 reached the retreating columns ; guns were aban- 
 doned, and hundreds of Frenchmen fell. The 
 passage was won ; the town was taken ; the French 
 were in full retreat; and had Murray, with his 
 Germans, but struck a single blow, the discomfiture 
 of Soult's army would have been complete. Placed 
 on the road of the retreating French army with the 
 object of intercepting them, he let column after 
 column pass him. ''It was an opportunity," says 
 Napier, forcibly, '' that would have tempted a bhnd 
 man to strike." 
 
160 TEAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 The Douro is a miglity river — rich in the 
 crowded warehouses along its quays, rich in mer- 
 chantmen which float on its waters, rich in brave 
 deeds done on its banks, and, what perhaps is more 
 to the purpose of the dwellers along its shores, rich 
 in all manner of fish for food. The very water of 
 the Douro is said by Spaniards to be fattening: 
 ^' agua de Douro, caldo de pollas," as strong as 
 cliiclcen hroth, say the people of Leon, where the 
 river takes its rise. This high opinion of it does 
 not reach so low down as Oporto. The Douro 
 water, as it flows through Portugal, is, except in 
 flood time, as clear as crystal ; yet there would 
 seem to be some foundation for the belief in its 
 virtue, for nowhere have I seen such draughts of 
 fishes as are brought ashore in the drag-nets of the 
 fishermen. It is certainly, as a monkish author says 
 of it, ''flumen piscosum,^^ — a fish-abounding stream. 
 The sturgeon runs up from the sea, but is seldom 
 caught or even seen, except in the upper and 
 shallower part df the river. The lamprey migrates 
 from the sea in great numbers, and, creeping up eel- 
 like by the dead waters near the banks, is caught in 
 fixed nets wherever there is an eddy or backwater, 
 formed by a projection of rock from the bank. The 
 AUis shad, which the English at Oporto call the 
 white salmon, enters the Douro, and is caught 
 in trammels and in pocket nets — donlcey nets they 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 161 
 
 are called in Wales. Rights to the exclusive fishing 
 of certain spots in the river favoured by these two 
 fish have been established, probably from the time 
 of the Visigoths. In 1255, the King of Portugal 
 possessed " vargas,'^ or fish-traps made of reeds and 
 willows, at a place called Furada, opposite Oporto, 
 and also at Areinho, a little above the city ; and he 
 conceded to the people of the burgh of Gaya the 
 privilege of taking shads and lampreys from these 
 royal fish-traps.* Both Furada and Areinho, are 
 still noted resorts of these fish. 
 
 If a traveller wishes to satisfy himself how far 
 the reputation which some writers have conferred 
 upon the Portuguese, of being the plainest and most 
 homely- featured people in Europe, is justified by 
 facts, let him, on any Tuesday or Saturday morning^ 
 (market days), rise before eight o'clock and mix 
 with the crowds of peasant men and women from 
 the neighbourhood which, on these days, fill the 
 streets from sunrise. He will find well-featured, 
 stalwart men, and smartly dressed women, in their 
 various local costumes ; almost all the women wear* 
 ing the white shirt and tight bodice which is so uni- 
 versal in the female dress of the dark-complexioned 
 races of the south of Europe. Kearly every ,woman 
 wears more or fewer of the beautiful filagree gold 
 
 * " Item mando quod pescatores de mea villa de Gaya pesquent 
 in meis varguis de Furada et de Artinio." 
 
 11 
 
162 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 ornaments, still made upon the old Moorish patterns. 
 The traveller will almost immediately arrive at the 
 conclusion that these northern Portuguese, at least, 
 have no claim to superiority of ugliness. Fine, deep- 
 chested women with magnificent eyes, often show- 
 ing the almond shape, and possessing the straight 
 level eyebrow of the Moorish race, white and 
 regular teeth, thick hair growing low down on the 
 brow, the fro7is tenuis of Horace, a complexion 
 generally transparent, with rich tones of colour; 
 women with a good upright carriage of the body ; 
 acquired perhaps from the habit of carrying burdens 
 on the head ; firm and graceful in their walk, like 
 women all over the Peninsula. Altogether a very 
 high type of human being, more like the peasant 
 women of Albano, whence the Roman artists get 
 their best models, than those of any country I 
 know; and, like them, it is noteworthy that the 
 men, though fairly good looking, are not, either in 
 features, in form, or in stature, proportionate to the 
 women. The complexion of the northern Portu- 
 guese is mostly dark, and the hair black ; but every 
 now and then, among the peasants, one sees a man 
 or a woman with hair and skin so light, that their 
 owner would pass for a fair person in Germany or 
 in England. These fair-haired individuals will 
 generally be found to come from some of the moun- 
 tain villages. 
 
TLAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 163 
 
 The truth is, that the reports of travellers as to 
 Portuguese good looks are made, as a rule, from 
 Lisbon ; and of the middle and lower classes of 
 Lisbon and its neighbourhood, little can be said it 
 praise. Sallow and muddj complexions, sinister ex- 
 pressions, irregular features, ill-knit frames, and no 
 approach to smartness in dress, make the people of 
 southern and central Portugal appear to belong to a 
 different race from those of the north. 
 
 The question as to the races of men which go 
 to make up the Portuguese nation is an interesting 
 one. Those who assert, as, I believe, it is commonly 
 asserted, that the race has now become a perfectly 
 homogeneous one — that is, a number of elements 
 blended into a single nation, more or less identical 
 throughout the country — assert that which is at 
 complete variance w4th my own observation. The 
 original constituents of Portuguese nationality are 
 more numerous than those even of our own country. 
 If the reader will allow me to steer clear of contro- 
 versial points, and spare me a reference to authorities, 
 I will state, in a few sentences, what is held by the 
 more rational of Portuguese ethnologists on the 
 subject. 
 
 It is generally supposed that the aboriginal in- 
 habitants were of Celtic race ; that the country was 
 overrun by the Iberi, who probably came from the 
 banks of the Eh one ; and that a more or less com- 
 
164 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 plete immixture of tliese two peoples had taken 
 place, resulting in a race known as tlie Celtiberians, 
 at the time that the Romans first conquered and then 
 colonized the country ; that the "Visigoths in their 
 turn invaded Portugal and overthrowing Eoman 
 institutions, substituted their own laws and some of 
 their customs. The Visigoths were themselves 
 overmastered and their institutions subverted by the 
 Arab races in the eighth century ; and these Eastern 
 conquerors spread over nearly the whole face of the 
 land, and imposed their customs, their laws, their 
 civilization, and everything but their religion, upon 
 a people whom they ruled for four centuries ; that 
 finally the h^^brid Gothic and Celtiberian races from 
 the inaccessible mountain ranges of the Asturias, 
 who had never been utterly subjugated by the Sara- 
 cens, poured down from their mountain holds, and 
 slowly retook the whole land from the Mussulmans ► 
 The enthusiastic ethnologist may believe as much 
 more than this as he chooses ; but the most sceptical 
 must admit so much. He must accept the Celts, 
 the Iberians, the Eomans, the Visigoths, and the 
 Saracens, as denominators in the compound fraction 
 which makes up the Portuguese nation ; and besides 
 these, he must take account of Greek colonies, of 
 which we have absolute indications, if no proof; 
 of Carthaginian conquests, of Phoenician immigra- 
 tion, for which, likewise, there is something to 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 165 
 
 allege : of Frenclimen brought over in the train of 
 Count Henry, tlie first prince of the royal line of 
 Portugal; of Jews, who have long settled in the 
 country. That all these elements combine, in 
 greater or smaller proportions, to constitute the 
 nation, is more or less demonstrable. 
 
 I have spared the reader much in not developing 
 the views which the ingenuity of native ethno- 
 logists has brought to bear upon the origin of their 
 countrymen. One industrious author will positively 
 have it that Nebuchadnezzar in person visited Por- 
 tugal, and left many of his countrymen behind him : 
 his folio volume, however, is not sufficient to bring 
 the matter home to the belief of unlearned readers. 
 I have likewise spared him an enumeration of the 
 various races, from the Arab of Yemen to the Berber 
 of Mount Atlas, which were rolled together by the 
 tide of Mahometan conquest, and which go to make 
 up the so-called Moors of the Peninsula. 
 
 Now of course the question is, in what propor- 
 tion these constituents of the nation are combined — 
 how much of a Eoman or a Goth, of a Moor or a 
 Celt, goes to make a modern Portuguese ? It is 
 clear that neither science nor history can help us 
 much here, for all that we find in all the historians 
 put together are scattered notices, which, if collected, 
 would not fill two of these pages. Common sense 
 and common observation may lead us a little way. 
 
166 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 My own impression is, that the history of an ancient 
 race is ' often better written on their faces than in 
 the pages of any book. If I find myself in a village 
 of fishermen whose stature is lower than that of 
 their neighbours; whose features have an entirely 
 different cast from those of ordinary Portuguese; 
 whose intonation is peculiar ; who do not inter- 
 marry with their neighbours ; whose boats are of 
 different build — a build still found in the Levant; 
 whose dress — the short kilt-like linen trousers of 
 Eastern nations, the coloured waist-belt, and the 
 long, brown cloth gaberdine — is a costume wholly 
 dissimilar to anything in the country ; — if I find 
 these men at several places on the coast, notably at 
 Oporto and Aveiro, where there are broad rivers or 
 estuaries, if I find them always preserving their 
 identity, always devoting themselves to the fishing of 
 rivers, creeks, and tideways, and leaving the open 
 sea fishing to the hardier Portuguese, I como 
 guardedly to the conclusion that these men are the 
 descendants of some very ancient colony of Eastern 
 origin ; and my belief fits in very comfortably with 
 the established theory of a Phoenician immigration. 
 
 Again, if the whole population of a hill village 
 turn out, as I ride into it, and I see that nine out of 
 ten are brown haired and grey eyed, and some of the 
 children and girls positively flaxen haired, I refuse 
 to believe but that this village has some stronger 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 1C7 
 
 infusion of Nortliern blood than the people dvvcllhig 
 on the plains. If I find other communities of purely 
 dark haired, gipsy-looking people, with the slim 
 figures, rounded features, long eyes, full lips, and 
 soft olive complexion of the African Moor, I believe 
 they have more African blood than any other. 
 Again, there are whole towns where the people have 
 faces so Jewish in type, that a man had need to be an 
 ethnologist with an original theory to endeavour to 
 prove it anything else. 
 
 Thus a man may go through the country harm- 
 lessly theorizing, and probably, if his observation 
 be moderately acute, and his enthusiasm not too 
 great, he will form juster ideas of the nationality of 
 the Portuguese than if he had read many heavy 
 folios on the subject. 
 
 I have already mentioned the profusion of gold 
 filagree ornaments worn by the Portuguese peasant 
 women. They are manufactured almost exclusively 
 at Oporto ; and one street, or rather one side of one 
 street, is occupied by the goldsmiths who sell them. 
 The actual workers are men in whose families the 
 trade has been handed down from father to son — 
 perhaps from the time of the Moors, for the designs 
 on the ornaments are hardly changed since their 
 time ; and it is interesting to see the crescent and 
 the star of Islam traced upon an ornament in the 
 
168 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 shape of tlie Christian cross of Malta. These same 
 shops sometimes contain silver plate of the rare 
 Portuguese repousse work of the sixteenth century ; 
 and, still oftener, gems which are to be obtained for 
 far less than their price in London or Paris. The 
 Brazilian topaz is cut by Portuguese lapidaries, and 
 is to be found often of good size. Amethysts were, 
 I am told, procurable in Oporto, some time ago, of 
 fabulous size and moderate price ; but their growing 
 value in the London and Paris markets in time 
 reached this outskirt of civilization, and the day of 
 bargains is gone by. 
 
 I have seen in these goldsmiths' shops several of 
 the beautiful so-called Bishop rings, set generally with 
 a single amethyst, chrysolite, or opal ; and as such 
 rings are intended to be worn on the forefinger, the 
 stone set in them is usually large. The true opal, 
 I am told, bore in Oporto, a few years ago, little 
 more value than the common milk opal or the ame- 
 thyst ; and a stone the size of a man's thumb-nail 
 might have been bought for a few pounds. Such a 
 stone, if a good one, would, it is needless to say, be 
 worth more than a hundred pounds. The absolute 
 ignorance which, in these former happy days, seems 
 to have prevailed on the subject, may be gauged by a 
 fact that was related to me : A goldsmith had one to 
 sell, and found an intending purchaser, who, how- 
 ever, did not conclude the bargain, because he feared. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 169 
 
 from the play and fire in the stone, that it was a ficti- 
 tious one ! The story will seem rather pointless to 
 the general reader, but for the lapidary or mineralo- 
 gist it will, I am certain, possess an exquisite humour ; 
 the point of it being that the opal is absolutely in- 
 imitable — the only gem indeed that is so, and there- 
 fore the one of all others that the German, Lessing, 
 should have abstained from choosing for the 
 apologue in his ^^ Nathan the Wise,'^ which turns 
 upon the imitation of an opal. 
 
 To go from Oporto to Lisbon by railway takes 
 twelve hours. The journey should not occupy more 
 than half the time, but even this rate of speed is an 
 improvement upon old times. A certain Eichard 
 Twiss, an English traveller in Portugal, exactly a 
 hundred years ago, having arrived at Lisbon, says : 
 '* I hired a chase drawn by a pair of mules, and 
 agreed with the driver that he should drag me to 
 Oporto in nine days." 
 
 The railroad, on leaving Oporto, skirts the sea- 
 shore and passes Granja, the resort of a few sea-side 
 visitors in summer. The Portuguese have a singular 
 taste in the matter of sea-bathing, and prefer a crowd 
 and a good, shelving, sandy beach, to everything else 
 in their sea- side health resorts. They neglect the 
 quiet village of Granja, with its shaded walks through 
 pine forests sweet with a profuse undergrowth of 
 
170 ' TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 
 
 myrtles, for Espinlio, a little further on — a place 
 surrounded by shifting sands where no tree or shrub 
 grows, and where the town is crowded with a fishing 
 population ; for Espinho is the centre of the sardine 
 fishery, and the sardine is to the Portuguese all that 
 the herring is to the Hollander, the pilchard to the 
 Cornishman, or the haddock to the Scotchman. 
 Espinho with its glare, its fishy breezes, and its many 
 abominations, is yet a paradise to the Oporto trades- 
 man. Sanitary science does not flourish in Portugal, 
 and therefore the death rate of Espinho is neither 
 known nor guessed. It must be terrible in the 
 summer months. 
 
 The line passes by several interesting towns, and 
 by some cities memorable in Portuguese history. 
 This is true tourist ground ; an easily accessible 
 region where the traveller may comfortably wander 
 about, guide book in hand, sleep in fairly well ordered 
 inns, and eat tolerable meals. I have already men- 
 tioned that it is my purpose not to take the reader 
 over beaten ground, and describe again what has 
 been better told by others ; but rather to show 
 him the byeways of the country, and to tell him 
 something of the everyday life and habits of tho 
 people. I shall have very little to say, there- 
 fore, about the " show places " of Portugal — about 
 Coimbi*a, with its university — Thomar, with its 
 fine conventual church — Alcobaga, with the remains 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 171 
 
 of its magnificent Cistercian monastery and its 
 abbey, whicli holds the tombs of the sovereigns 
 of Portugal — Batalha, with its inimitable architec- 
 ture, inimitable not always in a complimentary sense 
 — Mafra, with its huge eighteenth- century palace and 
 convent — and Cintra, with its shaded groves and 
 Moorish castle. All these beautiful, famous, or 
 magnificent things are to be easily reached and seen 
 from difierent stations on the railway between Lisbon 
 and Oporto ; and upon every one of them the guide- 
 books have descanted, with more or less of copious- 
 ness and with more or less of correctness. 
 
 The railway passes the marsh-girt towns of Ovar, 
 Estarreja, and Aveiro, through a country of canals, 
 dykes, and level meadows ; a country where the 
 farmers are half fishermen and the fishermen half 
 farmers ; where men are for ever engaged in their 
 high-prowed, canoe-like boats, fishing up the weed 
 which grows in the stagnant lagoons to serve for 
 manure to the land, and where earth and water are 
 so intermingled that barges in full sail seem to be 
 passing through the midst of corn-fields. The whole 
 country is a series of Dutch pictures ; but there are 
 features which go to make up the landscape here, 
 which the painter never sees in the Low Countries. 
 There are cattle, of a shape and rich tawny colour 
 such as Snyders or Potter never beheld ; there is 
 the graceful, waving rice plant, the luxuriant growth 
 
172 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 of huge featliery reeds and bulrushes, such as no 
 Northern painter could find the models of in his 
 native marshes and moorlands ; and there are the 
 picturesque, red- sashed boatmen, and their high- 
 prowed, gaily painted skiffs, in place of the burly 
 Dutch boor and his clumsy treh-shuyt ; and, above 
 all, there are such glories of bright Southern light 
 and warm shadow, such sunsets and sunrises, with 
 their golden haze and accumulated splendours of 
 colouring, as even Cuyp or Both never dreamt of. 
 
 Next comes Coimbra ; a city dear to every edu- 
 cated Portuguese, for at Coimbra is the university 
 at which almost every Portuguese who has attained 
 distinction in letters or in law has been taught. 
 The town lies upon a hill side, looking down upon 
 the river Mondego, whose gently flowing stream and 
 pleasant banks have been sung in the verses of nearly 
 all the poets of Portugal, who had learnt to love 
 them while they were alumni at Coimbra. 
 
 I leave it to the guide-books to describe the 
 scene of the assassination of the beautiful Inez de 
 Castro, and to go into the necessary raptures over 
 an unfortunate young lady, whose romantic frailty and 
 dramatic death have done as much as the poets to 
 make her the national heroine of the sentimental 
 Portuguese. But I must protest against *' Mur- 
 ray's" recording the very obvious misrepresentation 
 inscribed upon a tree in the Quinta das Lagrimas, where 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 173 
 
 Inez lived, — '' Ea dei somhra a Inezforniosa'* {I gave 
 shade to the lovely Inez). It is very simple and pretty, 
 and deserves to be true ; nevertheless, it is false at 
 first glance, for tlie simple reason that the tree is a 
 so-called Goa cedar, and the species could only have 
 been introduced into Portugal about two hundred 
 years after the death of Inez de Castro. So are 
 guide-books written ! 
 
 The university system at Coimbra is professorial, 
 as in Germany and Scotland ; not tutorial, as at our 
 two great universites. There is a small literary fact 
 connected with one of its professors, in the sixteenth 
 century, which may interest our men of letters at 
 home. The celebrated George Buchanan was for 
 some years a professor at Coimbra.* There is every 
 probability of his having been the friend and in- 
 structor — for he was twenty-two years his elder — of 
 the great Portuguese poet, Ferreira, the precursor 
 of Camoens, who polished, refined, and classicized 
 the Portuguese language almost to the same extent 
 that Pope and Dryden did our own tongue. That 
 the essentially classical Ferreira should have availed 
 himself of the instructions of a man like Buchanan 
 — the most brilliant scholar of his century, and the 
 best writer of Latin prose and verse perhaps since 
 
 * Bayle makes Buchanan's residence in Portugal last six years. 
 Unfortunately for his influence upon Portuguese literature, most of 
 these years were spent in the prisons of the Inquisition. 
 
171 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 the ago of Statins and the Younger Pliny — is so 
 probable as to be akin to a certainty. 
 
 Leaving Coimbra, the line goes due south to 
 Pombal, whence the Marquis of Pombal, the Bis- 
 marck of Portugal, derived his title, and where he 
 spent his last years in banishment. Pombal was a 
 man whose history is so bound up with that of his 
 country that the travel writer who passes his name 
 by without a word or two is not doing his duty by 
 his reader. 
 
 The patriotism of Portuguese writers, or their 
 preconceptions, either liberal or ultramontane, have 
 hitherto stood in the way of their fair appreciation 
 of the state of things in Portugal which Pombal was 
 enabled to reform. An impartial and fair account 
 of the Portuguese court and its king, the govern- 
 ment and the people, would at the present juncture 
 of European affairs constitute an exceedingly salu- 
 tary bit of reading. 
 
 John v., whom history has named the " Mag- 
 nanimous," dying in 1750, had left the kingdom in 
 a very pitiable condition, after having misruled and 
 ruined his country during forty-two years. He had 
 tried to combine the magnificence and the piety of 
 Louis XIV. with the debauchery of Louis XV, He 
 copied Versailles at Mafra, and set up a '^ Farc-aux- 
 Cerfs " in the convent of Odivellas. He encouraged 
 neither learning, science, the arts, commerce, manu- 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 175 
 
 factures, nor agriculture. lie squandered tlie vast 
 treasures of his country without doing anything to 
 further its prosperity. His inconceivable folly and 
 extravagant superstition were almost an excuse for 
 the indecent rapacity of churchmen during his whole 
 reign. Confessors and panders, fiddlers, singers, 
 dancers, and courtezans streamed in from Spain, 
 France and Italy, and devoured what they believed 
 to be the inexhaustible treasures of the Brazilian 
 dependencies. 
 
 Portugal endured this monstrous rule for forty- 
 two years, and when the king died, in 1750, the 
 country Avas several millions sterling in debt. Lite- 
 rature only existed in the worthless and lying lives 
 of the saints; the arts were represented by daubs 
 depicting their histories. The navy had forgotten 
 its old glories, and the great race of navigators and 
 discoverers had died out. The army was completely 
 disorganized : ofi&cers wearing the uniform of their 
 king took service in the houses of the nobles and 
 waited upon them at table : sentries on duty in 
 the streets of Lisbon openly begged alms from the 
 passers-by. 
 
 iJ^othing but this melancholy condition of the 
 country could have justified the rule of Pombal. 
 The imbecility of the king had brought about a 
 government which may be described as ecclesiastical 
 rule, tempered by feudalism and corruption. The 
 
176 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 obvious result of tliis would have been tlie relapse 
 of Portugal under the dominion of Spain, from 
 wliich sbe had now been free more than a hundred 
 years. The character of the new king was feeble in 
 the extreme, and nothing but the energy of Pombal 
 saved the people their independence and the king 
 his crown. 
 
 The great minister began life in the unpromising 
 character of a roysterer and blackguard. Towards 
 the end of the reign of the before-mentioned king 
 John, the streets of Lisbon were overrun at night 
 by bands of well-born ruffians who emulated the 
 rowdyism of the London Mohawks. Conspicuous 
 among these scamps was Sebastian de Carvalho, 
 afterwards Marquis of Pombal, who in time sobered 
 down into the statesman who was the saviour of 
 Portugal, and who ruled the king, his master, for 
 twenty- seven years. 
 
 Few ministers have been so completely and for 
 so long masters of the situation. He did good 
 work, which certainly would not have been done 
 but for him ; he checked the growing pride of 
 churchmen and of the great nobles at a moment 
 when they were threatening immense mischief to the 
 State. He persecuted and banished the Jesuits, 
 He was not a scrupulous man ; he imposed his will 
 without stopping to inquire whether he did so on 
 any constitutional principle. Neither was he an 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 177 
 
 economic pHilosoplier of advanced views, and lie 
 forced upon tlie ignorant community ideas of poli- 
 tical economy which would have made Adam Smith 
 groan.* He set up monopolies in all directions, 
 but as he at the same time estabhshed a reign of 
 law and order, and afforded comparative security to 
 property, and a prospect of continuance to commer- 
 cial adventure, and as a bad system well administered 
 is better than a good one not administered at all, it 
 came to be that his ideas took root and throve. 
 Commerce revived, the country grew rich; and 
 bribery, extortion and corruption ceased, while he 
 governed, to be absolutely rampant and in the 
 ascendant. -.^ 
 
 Pombal was a man of extraordinary energy, 
 courage and resources. When the city of Lisbon 
 was thrown into a tumult of fear and despair by the 
 great earthquake of 1755, when half the city was in 
 ruins, and the flames were gaining on the remainder, 
 when thousands of corpses lay unburied in the 
 streets and in the shattered houses, when bands of 
 desperadoes roamed through the city to rob, des- 
 troy and murder, Pombal alone seems to have kept 
 his senses. The king is said to have asked him, in 
 
 * " Trade in order to he prosperous should not he free** This, 
 according to Sir Philip Francis (reputed author of " Junius," and 
 who was attached to Lord Kinnoul's mission to Lisbon), was Sk 
 favourite maxim of Pombal. 
 
 ^ 12 
 
178 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 an agony of abject despondency, wliat was to be 
 done, and lie to have answered, " Bury the dead, 
 and feed the living ! " * It is related that for a fort- 
 night he spent the greater part of each day and 
 night in his carriage, seeing to the execution of his 
 instruction ; he restored order, and in time composed 
 the minds of men. It was certainly owing to him 
 that the court of Portugal was not transferred to 
 Hio de Janeiro ; so shaken was the confidence of 
 king and courtiers in any sort of stability in the 
 very order of things in Portugal, and so utterly 
 terrified were they by this great convulsion of 
 nature, that this measure had actually been resolved 
 upon. 
 
 It is singular with what respect his own country- 
 men still regard the memory of Pombal. " Never,'* 
 one of them has neatly said, '' had so small a king- 
 dom so great a minister." Though he died but 
 ninety years ago, he is often spoken of by half- 
 educated Portuguese almost as a hero of antiquity, 
 whose appearance divides civilization from bar- 
 barism, a being on the confines of history and 
 fable. To the question, " When did such and such 
 a thing happen ? " the answer will often be, " Oh, 
 
 * It is alleged that this memorable saying was not Pombal's, but 
 uttered by the Marquis Alorna. It matters little who made the 
 speech. It was Pombal who did the thing, and Portugal is a 
 country where -svise sayings are commoner than wise acts. There 
 has never been a scarcity of epigrams in Portugal. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 179 
 
 hundreds of years ago — antes do temjpo de Pomhal 
 — before Pombal's time ! " 
 
 Of course it is easy to get up a certain enthu- 
 siasm for sucli a man as this ; but it is easier to 
 admire this type when it has the surroundings 
 of a Bismarck than those of a Pombal. Both^ 
 great statesmen, at once ambitious and patriotic 
 rulers, and on the whole, benefactors of man ; but 
 while we can unreservedly admire the character of a 
 Bismarck, because we see in it the noblest and 
 highest development which is possible in a nation 
 of bureaucrats and martinets who have never tasted 
 any form of freedom, it is melancholy to see a 
 people who had, in ancient times, carved out for 
 themselves their independence and a noble liberty, 
 it is melancholy to see the Portuguese bow down 
 before a type of minister who must perforce make 
 slaves of his fellow-men before he can either rule 
 them, or benefit them. 
 
 Nobody who cares to look at a fine old church 
 will pass by the abbey of Alcoba^a. Of Batalha, 
 not far from Alcobaga, it may perhaps be said that 
 no architecture in the world ever got so many 
 enthusiastic admirers among those who looked upon 
 it. There is true beauty enough in the earlier work 
 to satisfy the soundest artistic taste, and enough of 
 tawdry superfluity of detail and of marvellously 
 
180 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 executed ornamentation to make the vulgar stare, 
 and, to judge by tlie printed ecstasies on the sub- 
 ject, be beside themselves with admiration. The 
 conventual buildings stand on or near the site of the 
 great battle of Aljubarrota, which decided the inde- 
 pendence of Portugal. It need hardly be said that 
 the name ''Batalha" has the same meaning and 
 derivation as our own "Battle," and "Battle 
 Abbey.'* Three years after the date of the battle 
 with the Castilians, which was fought in 1385, the 
 building was begun ; and the works continued till 
 1515. The earlier executed portions of the church 
 and convent are exquisite, but much of the later 
 work is simply abominable. The whole building has 
 been excellently criticised in the " Ecclesiologist," 
 and a very good summary of the article will be found 
 in " Murray." 
 
 Although a severe architectural taste must con- 
 demn much of the work of the celebrated " Gajpella 
 Imperfeita^' — the unfinished chapel, built by the 
 great King Emmanuel — even a critical judgment is 
 carried off its balance by the magnificence of design 
 and the astonishing elaboration of detail in this 
 building — the work of a genius utterly despising the 
 common rules of architecture. A fitting monument 
 of the king who, through the discoveries of Vasco da 
 Gama in the eastern regions of the world, and his 
 ccn juests in South America, was raised to a pitch 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 181 
 
 of wealth hitlierto unknown among European sove- 
 reigns. I quote from " Murray " part of his descrip- 
 tion borrowed and abridged from the *' Ecclesiolo- 
 gist:" 
 
 " The glory of tliis chapel is its western arch, surpassing in rich- 
 ness anything even in the cloisters. The west side of the .arch 
 has seven orders of the most elaborate foliation, springing from 
 hollow sockets; amongst knots, flowers, and foliage, the words 
 Tanias el Rey have been repeated over and over again. The 
 meaning of the words has been much disputed. The tradition of 
 the spot is that El Bey, The King, is of course King Emmanuel, 
 and that Tanias was his favourite chronicler. The only objection 
 to this is, that there never was such a person as Tanias. Other equally 
 inadmissible derivations have been proposed by the antiquaries." 
 
 It is certainly not a little characteristic of Por- 
 tuguese archgeologists that they should have occu- 
 pied themselves for more than three centuries in 
 puzzling over this curious inscription, without 
 arriving at any conclusion. A book might be filled 
 with the ingenious extravagances of the native anti- 
 quaries, who, with their eyes fixed on the clouds, are 
 apt to disregard what lies at their feet. Tanias el 
 Bey is, I have no doubt, only an anagram of Arte e 
 Linyas. The puzzle is a good one, though not 
 quite fair, for the El Rey is very misleading, and 
 the use of the Latinized Portuguese of the period 
 has clearly thrown the antiquaries off the scent. In 
 Latin it would of course be Arte et lineisy and in 
 modern Portuguese For arte e linhas,* 
 
 * Latino-Portuguese and Latino-Spanish were not uncommon in 
 
182 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 The motto lias no very tbouglitful or profound 
 significance, but neitlier was tlie pious, prosperous, 
 art-loving King Emmanuel a very profound or a 
 very thoughtful person ; and certainly this exquisite 
 chapel is a signal instance of the marvellous result 
 that a man may bring about, arte e linyas, by 
 applying his artistic skill, and multiplying the 
 traces of his hand, by stroke upon stroke, and line 
 upon line. 
 
 I hold it to be no slight misdemeanour in a 
 traveller to make public the ways of life and the 
 conversations of those who have hospitably en- 
 treated him in a foreign country. Even to publish 
 nothing but what is good of our hosts is, surely, 
 a dire offence against good taste : but to hold up 
 the good and the bad together, to make literary 
 capital out of the amiable eccentricities of those 
 who open their doors to us ; to desecrate the hearth 
 of a kindly host, that we may stimulate the curiosity 
 of our readers; to act the part of a literary free 
 lance, and, getting free quarters and a welcome, 
 to cram our wallet with all we can lay hands 
 upon that we may, in our turn, furnish forth a feast 
 
 inscriptions, epitaphs, mottoes, and other writings in whicli point 
 and succinctness were sought after. The well-known legend on the 
 Bword-hilt of Isabella the Catholic, will occur to many readers, 
 •* Deseo siempre onera : nunc caveo, jpax com migoJ' 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 183 
 
 — this is surely a grave offence against tlie laws of 
 liospitalitj, and may, if it continues, go far to des- 
 troy that noble virtue altogether. I trust I may 
 never (in the lack of " copy ") ask the public to 
 listen while I " interview " a distinguished native, nor 
 take my reader inside a house where I have been 
 made a welcome guest. The reader may suffer — the 
 reviewer may complain — but the writer, secure in 
 his virtue, is inexorable. 
 
 There can however, of course, be nothing 
 objectionable in any publicity given to the talk of 
 chance acquaintance — wayfarers by coach, train, or 
 steamer. If anything is to be gained by it, let their 
 conversations reach a discerning public. For my 
 own part, I have seldom been instructed or amused 
 loy the utterances of the many chance friends I have 
 been thrown against. Men on their travels are 
 taking in ideas, not discharging them ; and the pro- 
 cess is not interesting: to their neiofhbours. It is 
 notorious to all travellers by sea, how dull their 
 shipmates become after a day or two. Dana, the 
 American, acutely remarks that it is the having 
 to go without their daily dose of newspaper reading 
 "which makes ocean-going travellers so little enter- 
 taining as companions ; and the fact is sadly sugges- 
 tive of a general poverty of ideas. 
 
 Dana is speaking of American or English tra- 
 vellers; foreigners, who seldom read newspapers, 
 
184i TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 have not this excuse for their dulness on board ship. 
 It is a fact, however, that a man will learn very 
 little of, let us say, the inner life and modes of 
 thought of his fellow-passengers, even in a long 
 voyage. I once travelled by a large steamer, the 
 captain of which had spent half a lifetime in con- 
 veying passengers of various nationalities, chiefly 
 Brazilians and Portuguese. It was the first time I 
 had encountered individuals of either nation, and I 
 was curious. 
 
 "What sort of people do you find them?" I 
 asked the captain one day, as we paced the quarter- 
 deck together. 
 
 " Well, sir," he answered, " they're a queer lot, 
 and that's the truth of it ! " 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "For one thing," said the captain, "they all of 
 them, man, woman and child, squeeze their feet 
 into boots that it gives a man the cramp to look 
 at." 
 
 " And what besides ? " 
 
 The captain turned short upon me, as if the 
 second development of nationality was really almost 
 beyond his patience. 
 
 " When they eat roast heef, sir, they wonH take a 
 hit of mustard with it. Now, that's a fact! ^' 
 
 When four or five Portuguese, of the shopkeeper 
 or small merchant class, enter a railway carriage or 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 185 
 
 a diligence where I am sitting, and talk to each, 
 other at the top of their voices for several hours at a 
 stretch, I consider myself under no delicacy as to 
 reporting what they say, but, if I may be believed, 
 the report would be a dull one. The Portuguese 
 shopkeeper in his own shop is polite, sleepy, listless, 
 thoroughly ineflBcient, and apparently quite indiffe- 
 rent as to whether he sells his goods or keeps them. 
 He would always rather gossip than deal, and seems 
 to be in fear that if he diminishes his stock, he will 
 have to be at the trouble of renewing it. He yawns 
 across the counter at his customer, and makes a 
 foreigner laugh at the incongruity of a man keeping 
 things for sale, and not caring to sell them. The 
 same man, out of his shop, is a different being — a 
 talkative, pushing, rather noisy, and not over well- 
 mannered person. 
 
 I have often listened to the talk of such people, 
 and have marvelled at the deplorable vacuity of their 
 minds. The conversation of working men and 
 peasants is infinitely more intelligent and entertain- 
 ing. They would seem to care for none of those 
 things which stir the minds of the thinking world. 
 I have never heard a Portuguese of this class talk 
 rationally, with any breadth of view, or with any- 
 thing but parrot-like repetition of set phrases, about 
 politics, religion, commerce, literature or art. We 
 know how, in our own country, there are circles in 
 
186 TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 
 
 wMch sucli topics are never cared for nor spoken of, 
 and how, among such sections of society, men and 
 women are apt to be voluble for all time upon how 
 A was connected with the Bs of C, and married a D, 
 whereby he had come to be a relation by marriage 
 of all the Es ; and how each of the letters of the 
 alphabet will, in its turn, suggest some new genea- 
 logical complication to each of the persons present. 
 This manner of talk is painfully prevalent among 
 the Portuguese, and is, I think, more unendurable 
 than at home ; for, while their family histories are 
 as long, each individual will often have as many as 
 five Christian names, to forget one of which is an 
 unpardonable offence. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Zishon — Cintra Overjpraised — Monsen'at, and the Author of Yatliek — 
 Moorish Palace Fort at Cintra — Pariah Bogs of Lisbon have 
 Ceased to Exist — Dog Hunts — Humanity of the Portuguese — Mild 
 Bull Fighting Practised in Portugal — Singular Tameness of 
 Domestic Animals — Native Newspapers — Their Timidity and 
 Scanty News — Curious System of Avowedly Paid Literary Criti- 
 cism — Modern Art Progress in Portugal disappointing — Be- 
 poussG Worli — Point Lace — Ancient Furniture — Caldas Faience — 
 Paintings Deplorable — The Academy Exhibition — Ch'an Vasco and 
 his supposed School. 
 
 There are few more beautiful cities in tlie world tlian 
 Lisbon. Without any particularly imposing build- 
 ings, witb few clmrches, no parks, and only one or 
 two good-sized squares, the first aspect of Lisbon is 
 very striking ; rising from the water's edge on its 
 many hills, with its regular rows of tall, stately 
 houses built of a peculiar greyish-yellow limestone, 
 which has nearly the appearance of marble, and with 
 everything looking bright and clean in the clear 
 southern atmosphere. 
 
 So large a proportion of travellers to various 
 countries touch at Lisbon, and make this city the 
 subject of d; chapter in their books — so much printed 
 expatiation has been made upon its noble river 
 
188 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 approach, its terrible earthquake, its architecture, its 
 squares, the exquisite beauty of Cintra, and so 
 forth, that, following the rule I have set myself, to 
 avoid the repetition of what has been often and well 
 said before, and to write only of what previous ob- 
 servers have not cared to touch upon, I shall say 
 nothing more of Lisbon, than that the beauties of 
 its neighbour, Cintra, have been in my opinion 
 greatly overpraised ever since the days of Byron and 
 of Beckford; that its scenery owes much of the 
 charm it possesses — and it does possess considerable 
 charm — to the fact of the nineteen miles of road 
 (the journey is now performed by rail) through a 
 treeless, dusty and sun-baked country which inter- 
 vene between it and the capital, and afford to Cintra, 
 with its hills and greenery, all the charm derived 
 from a strong contrast. 
 
 Cintra has almost as undeserved a reputation as 
 that once enjoyed by the eccentric and conceited 
 sensualist Beckford, w^ho built a cockney palace in 
 its midst. When the history of defunct reputations 
 comes to be written, a chapter will no doubt be 
 given to show how it was that a whole generation 
 persuaded themselves that there was real literary 
 mastery in the stilted periods of VatheJc, and real 
 architectural genius in such monstrous erections as 
 Fonthill, in Wiltshire, and Monserrat at Cintra. 
 This latter outrage upon architecture is now owned 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, 189 
 
 by a London gentleman, wlio has filled it with Art 
 Treasures from Wardour Street — fit contents of a 
 building which can be compared to nothing in 
 Europe but the Pavilion at Brighton, which it some- 
 what resembles in general appearance, as well as in 
 bad taste, poverty of conception, and pretentious- 
 ness. The gardens at Monserrat, however, with 
 their rare shrubs, tree ferns, and palms, are quite 
 lovely. They are liberally thrown open to the 
 somewhat cockney public which frequents Cintra. 
 
 A few hundred yards from Monserrat, and near 
 enough to form a striking contrast with it — the con- 
 trast of true with false art — is the ancient Moorish 
 fortified Palace of Cintra. The Portuguese are fond 
 of speaking of this building as the Alhambra of 
 Portugal, and the phrase has been unguardedly 
 caught up by two or three English writers of travel, 
 of whom it may in consequence be asserted that they 
 have not seen either one or the other of these build- 
 ings — perhaps neither. Both are ancient Moorish 
 buildings, but Cintra is about as like the Alhambra 
 as Kenilworth Castle is like "Westminster Abbey. 
 Moreover, the Moorish portion at Cintra is nearly 
 quite overlaid with Christian architecture. 
 
 Old travellers used to make a great point of the 
 dirt of Lisbon, and no doubt with perfect justice. 
 Another stock subject with them used to be the 
 
190 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 packs of half- wild dogs whicli prowled over tlie city, 
 and even made its streets dangerous at night-time ; 
 but these charges can no longer be made. Lisbon 
 is now as cleanly as any large city of Southern 
 Europe, that is, in its best parts, and in those likely 
 to be frequented by foreigners ; in its slums and 
 crowded courts evil smells exist that might be 
 photographed, but I have experienced as yet nothing 
 quite so unsavoury as the atmosphere of Monmouth 
 Street or Dudley Street, in London, and the English 
 tourist may here again complacently point to the 
 superiority of his native country. 
 
 As to the bands of half- wild pariah dogs, which 
 in old days made Lisbon like an Oriental city, a 
 great reform has been effected, and human scaven- 
 gers now do the work of canine ones. The reform 
 was not easily accomplished, for it was found diffi- 
 cult to diminish the numbers of the self-constituted 
 scavengers by poison, seeing that the spectacle of 
 dead and dying dogs in the streets aroused the 
 susceptibilities and indignation of the inhabitants, 
 although the animals had become a real pest. Their 
 ever-increasing numbers are now checked by perio- 
 dical hunts, which are effected at night and offend no 
 one. A net is drawn, on a dark night, across a 
 leading street, and the dogs of a whole neighbour- 
 hood driven towards the spot ; as they become en- 
 tangled in its meshes, a man kills them with a blow 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 191 
 
 on the head, and throws their bodies into a cart. 
 This method is at once more effectual and more 
 merciful than poison; and by its employment the 
 homeless doo-s of Lisbon have come to be no more 
 numerous than those of Paris or London. 
 
 Humanity — innate and instinctive mercifulness, 
 as distinguished from the noisy humanitarianism of 
 v/hich we hear so much in these days — ^is very cha- 
 racteristic of the Portuguese people. Many evidences 
 of such true humanity are to be met with. The bull- 
 fights of the Portuguese are singular exhibitions of 
 imbecility on the part of all concerned, but there is 
 no spice of cruelty in their imitation of the bloody 
 Spanish sport, of which it may safely be alleged that 
 no more demoralizing and brutalizing spectacles have 
 been shown to the people since the gladiatorial com- 
 bats of Imperial Eome.* In the Portuguese bull- 
 fight the bull is teased, but while neither horse nor 
 bull is ever seriously injured, the danger to the men 
 is positively greater than in the Spanish exhibitions 
 of cruelty and cowardice. 
 
 * Among the various causes whicli have contributed to convert 
 the most chivalrous into the least chivalrous nation of Europe, these 
 detestable exhibitions probably hold a chief place. The loyalty and 
 fidelity of such men as Pescara and Alva, the tone of the sixteenth 
 century Spanish drama, the chivalrous loyalty breathed, by the old 
 Castilian romances, and, if further proof were wanting, the spirit 
 of " Don Quixote " itself, are evidence enough of the intense loyalty 
 of Spaniards in old times. Things are very different in the Spain 
 of to-day, where the. people seem to be incapable of loyalty either to 
 their rulers or to their principles. 
 
192 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 The tameness in Portugal of all domestic animals 
 — cattle, sheep, pigs, and poultry — resulting from 
 habitual kind treatment, is striking to a foreigner. 
 The especial favourite of the Portuguese is the dog ; 
 and the nation differs in this respect, so far as 
 my observation goes, from every other people of 
 Southern Europe, among whom the dog holds a low 
 place, compared, at least, with his estimation by the 
 Teutonic races. 
 
 The natives of Portugal, though from motives of 
 whimsical delicacy, they hesitate to pronounce the 
 word dog,^ treat the canine race with extraordinary 
 kindness, and care for their dogs as much as we do 
 ourselves, the traditional Moorish antipathy to the 
 animal extending only to his name. A fanatical 
 Mussulman has been heard to wonder at the Chris- 
 tian's affection for an animal which his own religion 
 holds so low. To love one's dog is, indeed, a purely 
 Christian virtue. The Mahometan and Brahmin 
 despise him, and the Buddhist ranks him with swine, 
 and sometimes eats him ; it is only the Christian who 
 has learnt to appreciate this type of attachment and 
 fidelity. The Catholic Portuguese and the Protes- 
 tant of Northern Europe can here meet on common 
 
 * Even in print they slide over the objectionable word with an 
 initial and two stars, as we designate a " wicked word " in our police 
 reports. I have seen the name of a well-known place in Lisbon, 
 Fonte do olho do Cdo, the fountain of the Dog's eye, printed Fonte 
 do olho do C**. Can a delicate susceptibility be carried further? 
 
TRAVELS IN FOBTUGAL. 103 
 
 ground ; and if tlie one can cite St. Francis and St. 
 Hubert, tlie other can quote the authentic legend of 
 Martin Luther to support his attachment to dogs. 
 " Don't growl, Hans," the great reformer is known 
 to have said to his dog, " and when the resurrection 
 comes, I promise that you shall have a golden 
 tail!" 
 
 An Enghshman, or an American, who should 
 expect to get much knowledge of Portuguese ways 
 from native newspapers, would be disappointed. 
 The newspaper fills but a small part of the life either 
 of Spaniards or Portuguese. EeHgious, literary, 
 scientific, legal and social life in Portugal are hardly 
 reflected at all in the journals ; and if it were not for 
 the political news they contain, newspapers would 
 probably not find readers at all. Portuguese ladies 
 rarely take up a newspaper, and men only look to 
 them for their politics. The speeches of the Portu- 
 guese Parliament are scantily reproduced ; the most 
 important arguments in their own law courts are 
 seldom reported at all, and deliberate discussion on 
 questions of home politics is hardly ever introduced 
 into the columns of newspapers. 
 
 Their own domestic concerns, indeed, hardly seem 
 to trouble the newspaper writers, and they visibly 
 shrink from all strong expression of opinion on vital 
 quests, onil happened to be in Portugal when the 
 
 13 
 
19i TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 so-called Iberian Question, the question of a union 
 with Spain, was stirring the minds of all classes. 
 Mass meetings were being held, and indignant pro- 
 tests were being made against the proposition, yet 
 the newspapers, with hardly an exception, gave no 
 echo of the strong feeling that animated public 
 opinion. Reports of interviews between the Russian 
 and German emperors, vague speculations on the 
 policy of the great powers, reported conversations of 
 Prince Bismarck or M. Thiers — all the unsubstantial 
 rumours that fill the columns of European journals, 
 all the canards started on the Boulevards of Paris, 
 or in the clubs of London— these are what the poli- 
 ticians of Portugal care to read about, far more than 
 to know and watch the doings of their own states- 
 men. 
 
 A modern Portuguese newspaper, on its tiny 
 sheet, brings home to us very vividly the days of 
 Neius Letters and Flying Mercuries in our own coun- 
 try. There is the same scantiness of domestic in- 
 telligence, the same triviality in the incidents related, 
 the same preponderance of foreign over domestic 
 news, and the same absence of all serious debate 
 and argument. 
 
 Not many years ago, Mr. Bright publicly de- 
 plored the discussion of political questions by journal- 
 ists, and seriously suggested that the newspaper 
 press of Great Britain should be confined to the 
 
TRAVELS IN POLTUGAL. 105 
 
 imparting of news alone, unaccompanied by re- 
 marks thereon. This eminent politician, departing 
 not a little from the sound common sense which so 
 often characterizes his political judgments, depre- 
 cated the criticism of public men and of political 
 events by anonymous writers, and conceived that 
 for such criticism should be substituted the utter- 
 ances of politicians at public meetings. He would, 
 in fact, prefer oral appeals to the feelings and the 
 impulses of noisy assemblies, to calmer ones to the 
 reason of individual readers. Under such a pro- 
 posed regime, the Lisbon and Oporto journals would 
 form admirable models for our ''Times," "Stan- 
 dard," " Daily News " and '' Pall Mall Gazette." 
 Our weekly journals, dealing with political matters, 
 our '' Saturday Reviews " and *' Spectators," would, 
 of course, cease altogether to exist. 
 
 Although regular Law Eeports are seldom given, 
 the incidents which our newspapers bring together 
 under the heading Accidents and Offences, are the 
 staple of home news. The Prench mode of re- 
 counting the event is adopted ; it is told as a story 
 or anecdote, with as much literary artifice as tho 
 journalist can employ ; and often the story is well 
 told, and with a little dash of fun. The following 
 description of the accumulated misfortunes of a 
 pleasure party is in a vein of grave humour which 
 it seems the Portuguese much appreciate : — 
 
196 TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 " On Sunday, a serious accident happened. Five 
 individuals were on their way in a hired carriage to 
 
 , taking with them four dozen rockets. One of 
 
 the party amused himself by firing a rocket on the 
 way, and, in doing so, unfortunately ignited the 
 whole bundle, which began to explode in all direc- 
 tions, some darting out of the windows, some out of 
 the door, and others doing no inconsiderable hurt to 
 the persons inside. The horses took fright at the 
 repeated explosions, and bolted through the village 
 
 of , the unfortunate passengers adding to the 
 
 terror and speed of the animals by putting their 
 heads out of the carriage windows and screaming 
 loudly for help. Finally, the coachman lost all 
 command of the reins, and the horses bolted from, 
 the road and plunged into the river, where the depth 
 of water and mud finally arrested the further pro- 
 gress of the vehicle. The discharge of rcckets, and 
 the cries of the half-drowning passengers still con- 
 tinuing, a large crowd collected on the banks, and 
 after exertions, which lasted for several hours, the 
 passengers (who are all seriously burnt) were drawn 
 with ropes out of the carriage through the water and 
 on to the shore, whence they were immediately lodged 
 in prison, charged with breaking the public peace." 
 
 Here is a police case reported with the same 
 somewhat grim humour :— 
 
TRAVELS IN POUTUGAL. 197 
 
 " An individual, calling himself Jeremy da Silva, 
 twenty-fi^^e years of age, was charged with purchas- 
 ing a water-melon without manifesting any disposi- 
 tion to pay for the same. The weather is at present 
 very hot, and the water melon is a singularly agree- 
 able remedy for the thirst occasioned thereby ; but 
 is this a reason why Jeremy da Silva should be 
 oblivious of one of the first principles of political 
 economy ? To buy without giving an equivalent 
 in specie is, if we may tell him so, only another 
 name for stealing. This, also, was the opinion 
 of the worthy magistrate. Mr. da Silva is now in 
 prison." 
 
 This solemn banter soon gets very fatiguing to a 
 foreigner, but it seems to have a great charm for 
 native readers, if one may judge from its frequent 
 occurrence. 
 
 The weather, in the dearth of more stirring topics, 
 is a fertile theme. There happened to be a day or 
 two of rather stormy weather, and this is how copy 
 was made out of the fact : — 
 
 '* The Weather. — For the last two days we have 
 undergone the unchained fury of the most rigorous 
 winter. Wind, rain, lightning and hail, have com- 
 bined to make the most astounding atmospheric 
 disturbance. . . ." and so on for half a column, 
 ringing the changes upon the very tallest adjectives. 
 
198 TRAVELS JxY PORTUGAL. 
 
 and only telling the reader wliat he knew very well 
 by the report of his own senses. 
 
 Perhaps the most singular of the contents of the 
 Portuguese newspapers are the obituary notices. 
 Written in a style so exquisitely pompous and stilted 
 as to make the foreign reader incline at first to think 
 them ironical, these long eulogies on the dead are 
 paid for as advertisements, and are generally signed 
 with the name of one of the relatives of the deceased 
 person. A few extracts will suffice to show how 
 false emotion and a false style can desecrate feelings 
 which it is only commonly decent to hold back from 
 observation : 
 
 '' It is now seventy-two hours since the pious Mr. 
 A. B. ceased to exist ! 
 
 " It is now seventy-two hours since the 
 most severe affliction has stricken the hearts 
 of his bereaved relations in their most tender 
 fibres ! 
 
 " It is now seventy-two hours since he died, in 
 the summer of his life, as ^ also in the height and 
 summer of his virtues ! 
 
 " It is now seventy-two hours since this great 
 man, great in his intelligence and in his practice of 
 all the Christian virtues . . . . ;" and so on, 
 through a long list of paragraphs, beginning with 
 the same minute chronological calculation, and all 
 full of the same rhetorical foolishness. The deceased 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 199 
 
 gentleman, if I recollect rightly, had kept a cigar 
 shop in Lisbon. 
 
 Another similar and very curious development of 
 Portuguese journalism is the insertion of paid eulo- 
 gies of literary productions. I use the expression 
 " curious " only because the payment is avowed and 
 open, being honestly signed with the name of the 
 friendly critic, and placed in a column set apart for 
 advertisements. It is impossible altogether to dis- 
 approve of this practice. It is odd that it has not 
 yet occurred to Portuguese critics to enhance the 
 value of their approval by occasional dispraise. I 
 have never seen an unfriendly literary critique in a 
 Portuguese journal. 
 
 The traveller in Portugal, with any curiosity as 
 to the development of modern art, is likely to bo 
 disappointed. Architecture is at a standstill, paint- 
 ing is at a low ebb, sculpture, to my knowledge, 
 hardly exists as a Portuguese art ; and the Portu- 
 guese for the last two hundred years have made no 
 figure whatever in the arts of design ; though the 
 beautiful Portuguese rejooitsse work of the fifteenth 
 and sixteenth centuries, the old Portuguese point- 
 lace, the -marvellously fine and massive carved black 
 wood furniture of two hundred years ago, testify to 
 latent faculties in this direction of a high order. 
 
 Some attempts have recently been made to estab- 
 lish art potteries. Imitations of majolica are pro- 
 
200 TUAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 duced in or near Lisbon, of a very poor sort. At 
 Caldas da Rainlia, to the north of the capital, a 
 faience has been made of a very high art value — 
 groups and figures of birds and animals, modelled 
 with singular correctness and spirit, are covered 
 with a thin stanniferous glaze, wonderfully rich and 
 brilliant. I know nothing of the sort in the country 
 which can compare with this Caldas pottery. 
 
 Painting is, as I have said, at a low ebb. In the 
 last Paris International Exhibition, there were, as 
 every one knows, several departments devoted to 
 the works of modern painters belonging to each 
 separate nation. The world looked with some 
 astonishment at the art work of Portugal ; and was 
 inclined at first to suspect that some huge practical 
 joke underlay the exhibition of Portuguese pictures. 
 The serious art critic was taken aback. Immense 
 fi-amed canvasses were hung on the walls, on which 
 kings and generals, regardless of perspective, be- 
 strode horses even more remarkable in colouring 
 and proportion than themselves. The colouring 
 was so conscientious, the uniforms so uncompro- 
 misingly red and blue, the horses so vivid in hue, 
 the high boots of the riders were so intensely black, 
 the hair and whiskers of the noble personages who 
 bestrode them so precisely corresponded in colour 
 with their boots, that the spectators who found their 
 way into the room were delighted : their eyes, 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 203 
 
 wearied witli tlie uniform mediocrity of the other 
 exhibitions, rested with a sense of relief on these 
 novel works, and shouts of laughter were to be 
 heard all day long in the Portuguese department. 
 
 These wretched daubs were, however, not quite 
 representative of Portuguese art. It is a small 
 country, and not a rich one ; there is little educated 
 art criticism, and no demand for pictures of a high 
 class ; and, until recently, no state or public patron- 
 age of painters. Moreover, the Portuguese neither 
 are, nor ever were a people with strong art sympa- 
 thies like the Italians, the Flemings, or even the 
 Dutch. Yet under all these unfavourable circum- 
 stances, this small people has produced several 
 fairly good painters, and, if tradition maybe trusted, 
 at least one excellent artist. 
 
 There are two living Portuguese painters who 
 would be distinguished anywhere. Senhor Resende 
 of Oporto is a pupil of the French artist Yvon, and 
 has done work not unworthy of his teaching. An- 
 tonio Pereira of Viseu has learnt his art from, and 
 founded his style upon, the works of the unknown 
 artists of the school, apparently, of the Van Eycks, 
 whose pictures enrich the walls of the cathedral of 
 that city. Senhor Pereira's most important work is 
 a large altar-piece in the cathedral ; pure in concep- 
 tion and true in design, the colouring is a little 
 conventional, and the whole treatment somewhat 
 
202 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 "academical;" tlie picture is nevertheless a notice- 
 able one. A more original work and, in my opinion, 
 one of far liiglier value, is his portrait of the bishop 
 of Yiseu — lately prime minister of Portugal — a strik- 
 ing portrait of a fine and expressive head. 
 
 A good general notion of the art capabilities 
 of ancient and modern Portugal can be got by a 
 visit to the Academia das Bellas Artes in Lisbon. 
 There are many pictures with good foreign names 
 attached to them in the catalogue ; but of genuine 
 works by the great masters, I have seen no gallery 
 in Europe with so much " canvas spread " of so 
 little value. It is not quite proper to reduce works 
 of high art to a money standard ; but if I desired to 
 bring the value of the collection home to the com- 
 prehension of a connoisseur or collector of paintings 
 at home, I should do so most readily by saying that 
 not a dozen pictures in it would bring fifty pounds at 
 Christie's auction rooms in London, or at the Hotel 
 Drouot in Paris ; and that the vast majority of the 
 works would fetch less than five pounds at either 
 of these establishments. Mediocrity and positive 
 rubbish are the words which best describe the Na- 
 tional Gallery of Portugal. 
 
 It would indeed be little to the credit of a small 
 country with a by no means flourishing exchequer, 
 had it chosen to treat itself to a really valuable na- 
 tional picture gallery. There has, however, been 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL 203 
 
 no sort of improper generosity, and the grants oi 
 government have been exceedingly scanty. With 
 one exception the Lisbon gallery, like our own in 
 Trafalgar Square, owes a great deal to the liberality 
 of individuals — chief among them of Dom Ferdinand, 
 the king's father, who in three years presented from 
 his private income no less than £14,000 for the use 
 of the gallery. To this munificence, and to this 
 prince's great art knowledge and judgment, and to 
 the zeal and taste of the Marquis de Souza Holstein, 
 the gallery owes its existence. 
 
 It was formed in 1836, and the foundation was 
 the stock of pictures found in the various convents 
 suppressed in 1 833. Of these pictures, five hundred 
 and forty of the best were selected by a Govern- 
 ment commission appointed for the purpose, and 
 again the best of these were hung on the walls of 
 the gallery. They are now contained in a single 
 room, and can be studied as a whole with convenience. 
 
 These paintings, some years ago, would have 
 been set down by almost any Portuguese as the 
 works of Gran Yasco — the great Vasco — a re- 
 nowned but mythical Portuguese painter of the 
 sixteenth century ; but they are now more cau- 
 tiously ascribed, in the gallery catalogue and else- 
 where, to the "ancient Portuguese school of 
 painters." The theory adopted is that the Van 
 Eyck style of painting was adopted by the Por- 
 
204 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 tuguese in about tlie year 1500, that tliey 
 
 maintained its curious mannerism unchanged for 
 no less than a hundred and fifty years. If the works 
 in this room are representative of this singular 
 native school, as according to this view they should 
 be, the sooner Portuguese critics abandon a theory 
 so little creditable to Portuguese originality and so 
 suggestive of an almost Chinese subservience to 
 precedent, and a quite grovelling instinct for con- 
 ventionality, the better for the fame of Portuguese 
 art. 
 
 Looking to the fact that the great poet of Portu- 
 gal, keenly alive to everything that could contribute 
 to the glory of his country, distinctly deplores the 
 circumstance that at the very time when the painters 
 of these canvases would have been at work, there 
 were no Portuguese artists in Portugal, for the 
 reason that native artists could win neither fame 
 nor profit in their own country ; looking to the fact 
 that Flanders was at that time the Birmingham of 
 art, and that, while Flemish studios produced some 
 of the grandest masterpieces of the period, they 
 sent forth an immense quantity of cheap, second- 
 rate work in every department of art; looking to 
 the recorded fact that when these pictures were 
 being painted, many Flemish artists were actually 
 in Portugal and Spain, working for the convents 
 and churches of the Peninsula — I am absolutelv 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 205 
 
 convinced that the majority of these pictures are 
 the work of Flemish painters.* Some of them were 
 doubtless exported from the cities of Flanders, some 
 the work of foreigners too poor in skill to hold their 
 own in their native country; some of the very 
 worst are perhaps too bad to hstve been the work 
 of any foreign painter, and may have been ac- 
 complished by an ambitious Portuguese colour- 
 grinder, or an idle monk with a little talent for 
 imitation. 
 
 There is not a spark of true artistic genius, there 
 is no sign in the best picture in the collection of 
 anything more than a decent workman's execution. 
 There are a sameness, a respectable mediocrity, and 
 an evident appearance of being manufactured to 
 order about the pictures, that make one certain of 
 their origin ; and if any picture in the collection 
 were claimed as a gem of early Portuguese art, 
 
 * The Marquis de Souza Holstein, in his excellent introductoiy 
 notice prefixed to the catalogue, has, I am sorry to say, adopted the 
 position of the Portuguese origin of these works. He lays some 
 stress upon representations in a few of them of Portuguese coins, 
 architecture, and church vestments; but that this should occa- 
 sionally be the case proves nothing. A foreign painter working in 
 Portugal would, of course, imitate native objects, so far as his 
 conventionality allowed him; but the attempt at such imitation 
 generally breaks down. As one instance among many, let the 
 drawing of a Portuguese cart in the picture of the " Body of St. 
 James drawn by oxen," be examined, and it will be conceded that the 
 construction of the common country cart — naturally familiar to 
 every native Portuguese — was not understood by the painter. 
 
206 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 one might be tempted to exclaim w(th Captain 
 Bobadil, — 
 
 " A Fleming ! hy the foot of Pharaoh ! Ill buy 
 them for a guilder apiece^ an^ I luould have a thousand' 
 of them/'' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 From Idshon to Evora — Lost Fertility of Great South Tagus Plmn-^ 
 Fine Roman Remains at Evora — Ahundance and Triviality of 
 Boman Inscriptions — Elvas — Wrong Choice of a Guide — His 
 Blunders, his Ghost Stories, and General Imhecility — Legend of 
 the Seven Whistlers — The Guide's Terroi' — Benighted in a 
 Forest — Recovery of Horses and Guide. 
 
 In travelling by railway due east from Lisbon on to 
 Evora, and tlience by road towards the Spanisli 
 frontier, we are once more on gromid described over 
 and over again. We get hurried glimpses of a dis- 
 mal country through the windows of the railway 
 carriage ; for a long way a dreary plain, here and 
 there a collection of pine trees, wind-tormented and 
 stunted, then a long reach of sand, then a canal-hke 
 stream, too sluggish for irrigation ; then great sea- 
 like prairies of heath and cistus, with scarcely a 
 sign of human habitation or cultivation. Few 
 inhabitants are visible anywhere, and those seen 
 are listless, sallow and gaunt-featured, as if from 
 breathing all their lives the ague-laden air of this 
 inhospitable region. 
 
208 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 A Frencli traveller who had readied Lisbon by 
 tbis route from Spain, had spoken to me but a few 
 days before of the marvellous fertility of the country. 
 He had talked of the great droves of pigs, of corn- 
 lands and vineyards, and of olive groves so numerous 
 and productive that, as he picturesquely observed, 
 the ground " seemed to be actually oozing with 
 oil." It was not till I reached Evora and the com- 
 paratively rich country between it and the border, 
 that I began to understand the cause of the discre- 
 pancy between the French traveller's observation 
 and my own. He had come from Madrid by Bada- 
 joz over the interminable yellow sandy tracts which 
 make up five-sixths of the central table-land of Spain. 
 On reaching the Portuguese frontier he had seen 
 well cultivated land, much chestnut wood, and many 
 olive trees. Travelling by diligence through Elvas, 
 he would pass through the most fertile district of 
 the province of Alemtejo, and taking the train again 
 at Evora, it was clear enough that my acquaintance 
 had paid little attention to — had probably slept 
 through — the melancholy tract of country which had 
 made so strong an impression upon me. 
 
 It is something of a puzzle why this great plain 
 to the south of the Tagus should be thus barren ; 
 the soil is deep and rich, the climate good, and it is 
 only here and there that fevers are prevalent. An 
 explorer coming upon such a stretch of country 
 
TBAVELS m PORTUGAL. 209 
 
 might well tliink he had found a land which should 
 turn into an El Dorado of corn-lands, a typical wheat- 
 producing earth, where he might match the Ameri- 
 can's thousand-acre fields, plough a straight furrow 
 for miles in any direction, and find water conveyance 
 for his corn to a central market ; and so far as the 
 actual capabilities of land and cHmate go, his ex- 
 pectations would be well founded. This province of 
 the Alemtejo was once famous for its great wheat 
 crops. The Eomans called it the Sicily of the 
 Peninsula, and the Moors made it the granary of 
 Southern Spain and Portugal. It was a garden 
 when the great founder of the Portuguese monarchy 
 overthrew the Saracens, winning his decisive victory 
 upon them at Ourique, in its midst, and laying waste 
 this fertile province of his enemies, which has never 
 since recovered its ancient fertility. 
 
 Political economists may settle it how they will, 
 and may ascribe the present barrenness of Alemtejo 
 fco what and to whom they like, to want of capital 
 or want of energy in the population. The history 
 of Alemtejo is the history of the once fertile Roman 
 provinces of Asia, of the great corn-producing plain 
 of the Campania, and of Sicily itself. 
 
 At Evora there are Roman remains of great 
 interest. Evora was at one time the Roman capital 
 of that considerable part of modern Portugal which 
 the Romans called Lusitania. This city, Braga in 
 
 It 
 
210 . TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL 
 
 the norfcli, and Santarem in tlie west, formed the 
 triangle of Roman centres corresponding to the 
 similar triangle in Eoman England of York, Chester, 
 and Exeter. 
 
 Here are the remains of a fine aqueduct, and the 
 ruins of a temple to Diana, and of a tower, or, 
 technically, a castellum — the reservoir for the water 
 of the aqueduct. Both these buildings are set down 
 to so early a period as that of Quintus Sertorius, 
 the Eoman general ; that is, about seventy or eighty 
 years B.C. These ruins, which have been perhaps not 
 unjustly described as the finest Eoman remains out 
 of Italy, are interesting to the student of architec- 
 ture, apart from their archaeological value which I 
 do not profess to assess. The well-marked Christian 
 Eomanesque of Portugal, and the long lingering 
 of this pre- Gothic style in the country, are facts 
 intelligible enough to one who looks upon such 
 admirable work as this aqueduct, this temple, and 
 this tower. 
 
 The traveller in Portugal, unless he have long 
 before imbibed the tastes of an antiquarian, is apt to 
 get his appetite more than satisfied with the vestiges 
 of Eoman dominion. I doubt if the monumental 
 inscriptions in all Great Britain, all the English- 
 Eoman mosaics, baths, coins, milliary columns, put 
 together in a single county, would lie so thickly on 
 the ground as they do in the small district round 
 
TBAVUL8 m rOBTUGAL. 211 
 
 Evora, Elvas, and Beja. Tlie traveller finds these 
 remains at every step. In a house at Mertola, on 
 the Guadiana, is a handsome square bas-relief with 
 an inscription wanting but a letter or two. Such a 
 monument as would make the pride of any pro- 
 vincial museum in France or England has only been 
 preserved at Mertola because it made a convenient 
 lintel to the door of a cow-house. Near Ponte de 
 Lima, by the roadside, lies a milliary column half 
 imbedded in the earth, with a mouldering inscription, 
 from which a good antiquary could no doubt fix the 
 exact position of the ancient Forum Limicorum. On 
 the bank of the Douro, near its embouchure, and 
 close to its very dangerous sea bar, I found lying 
 uncared for, as I have already mentioned, the curious 
 inscribed beacon formerly set on a rock in the main 
 channel ; but antiquarians are rare in Portugal, and 
 to the non-antiquarian mind such inscriptions are 
 often singularly poor in interest. The old Romans 
 seem to have been possessed of the mania to hand 
 down to posterity the most trifling occurrences ; the 
 proceedings of Caius and Balbus, as related by Mr. 
 Thomas Kerchever Arnold, are eventful and im- 
 portant as compared with the facts I found recorded 
 on most of these ancient stones. 
 
 Arrived at Elvas, famous for its military lines, 
 its aqueduct, its cathedral, and its plums — all of 
 which the optimist inhabitants fully believe to bo 
 
212 TEA VELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 tlie best and finest of known plums, cathedrals, 
 aqueducts, and fortifications — I bought the best 
 horse I could find, hired a guide, and started with 
 the intention of riding through the wild country on 
 either side of the Guadiana to the sea at its embou- 
 chure in the ancient kingdom of Algarve. 
 
 I had travelled but a little way before I made two 
 unpleasant discoveries — one, that I had got a horse 
 so lazy that after the first league he was continually 
 coming to a dead stop ; the other that my guide was 
 as great a fool as he looked, which I had thought 
 impossible. Pinding that he had failed to pack up 
 one or two of my own things, I made him turn out 
 the contents of his own saddle-bags, and found even 
 greater deficiencies than in my own. His forgetful- 
 ness brought home to him, he exhibited such excess 
 of astonishment, and talked such nonsense on the 
 subject, that I felt that the question of fool or knave 
 must be settled forthwith. 
 
 " Francisco," I said, " either you are a greater 
 donkey than it is permissible for a human being to 
 be, or else you are a rogue. In either case, we must 
 go back to Elvas," and I turned my horse's head 
 round. 
 
 Francisco's innocence and his stupidity were 
 triumphantly established when we reached the inn, 
 the clothes and rugs he had forgotten being still in the 
 room I had occupied ; and the poor fellow showed 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 213 
 
 SO mucli delight at being reinstated in my good 
 opinion that I could not find it in my heart to get 
 rid of him. I looked well at the man to try to 
 take some measure of the troubles I could foresee 
 he would bring upon me. He was a well set-up 
 young man, strong-looking, but with a shambling 
 walk that betrayed his lack of fibre, a good-humoured 
 face, a constant smile, a perpetual flow of conversa- 
 tion, and that universal sign of simplicity — a hat set 
 on the back of his head. I determined to run my 
 chance, on the good principle that an amiable fool is 
 always a better companion than a sulky knave ; but 
 I made a great mistake in this instance, and I was 
 not to get through the first day's travel without 
 very serious cause to regret my choice of a 
 guide. 
 
 We rode on together in a south-westerly direc- 
 tion, through a well cultivated, hilly country, well 
 wooded and well watered. Towards evening our 
 road lay over a cistus and heath covered moor, 
 where the aromatic shrubs of various kinds reached 
 in places to the horses' girths ; a shght drizzle of 
 rain began to set in, and the night promised to be 
 wet and disagreeable. 
 
 " We shall reach Juromenha at about eight 
 o'clock," said my guide, who assured me he knew 
 every inch of the road, and could find his way blind- 
 fold. 
 
214 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it/' I said, " for in an hour 
 it will be quite dark." 
 
 We journeyed on in silence. The night was 
 cloudy, and it was pitch dark, that is, as dark as it 
 ever is where there are no trees or buildings to 
 obscure the little light that almost always remains 
 in the heavens. We had been moving across the 
 level plain for some half hour. A low-lying, black 
 cloud, dimly seen in the obscurity, got blacker and 
 more distinct as we neared it, but not till we were 
 almost in its shadow did I make out that it was a 
 thick forest. 
 
 '' I wonder if there are any wolves in this part 
 of the country ? " said my foolish guide in a tone of 
 assumed indifference. 
 
 " Quite certain to be," I said; '' but I thought, 
 Francisco, you knew every inch of the country." 
 
 " So I do by daylight ; but I think we should 
 have kept the high road to the south," he said, and 
 I went on not reassured. 
 
 ''It is lucky there are no brigands, at any rate," 
 said Francisco presently, " or else I should think 
 twice before I entered a wood like this by night." 
 
 *' They could shoot you better in the day-time," 
 I observed. 
 
 '' Ha ! ha ! " he laughed ; " they would never 
 b© able to see us in a wood like this, would 
 they ? " 
 
TllAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 215 
 
 *' No ; but the ghosts would.'* 
 
 He had been plaguing me all day with very silly 
 ghost stories. 
 
 " There are no such things/' he said bravely. 
 
 I made no reply. 
 
 "Your Excellency does not really believe in 
 ghosts ? *' 
 
 " I never saw one. What sort of ghosts do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 '' I mean," said my guide, drawing his horse 
 close up to mine and dropping his voice, '' I mean 
 the spirits of the dead released from purgatory and 
 compelled to wander about the earth with witches 
 and warlocks. They say that if they can catch a 
 man alone on a dark night like this, coming up 
 behind him and pouncing on him before he has 
 time to say an ' Ave ' or a ' Pater,' he is a lost 
 man." 
 
 "But no doubt, Francisco, you carry some 
 blessed relic or other about you, and then, you 
 knovf, no ghost can do you any harm." 
 
 " No, your Excellency, worse luck ! I carry no 
 such thing. I left a little picture behind me at Elvas 
 that was blessed by the Beata of Arifana.* I would 
 
 * The Beata, or Holy Woman, of Arifana, a small town in 
 Northern Portugal, is a poor, bedridden old creature, who has, for 
 1 know not how many years, abstained, or all bu.t abstained, from 
 meat and drink, and who is miraculously elevated about a yard above 
 her bed whenever she takes the sacrament — that is, about once a 
 
216 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 give three cruzados to liave it in my pocket at tliis 
 moment ! " 
 
 " Never mind," I said, " I am a heretic, and the 
 ghosts will seize me first, if they are true orthodox 
 ghosts. Then, Francisco, do you put spurs to your 
 horse's sides, and gallop away for your dear soul. 
 I only hope, for your sake, the evil one was not at 
 hand just now, when you valued it at three 
 cruzados. If he were to take you at your word, it 
 would be the worst bargain you ever made in your 
 life!" 
 
 " I see your Excellency laughs at the ghosts, and, 
 to be sure, I, myself, when I am in the wine-shop 
 with my friends, have laughed too at these old 
 women's stories ; but if these are lies, there is no 
 lie about the Seven Whistlers, for many a man 
 besides me has heard them." 
 
 ** And who are the Seven Whistlers ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, who are they ? If we knew 
 that, the priests could exorcise them so that they 
 should not frighten honest folk at dusk on winter's 
 nights." 
 
 " You have seen them yourself ? " 
 
 "Not seen, thank heaven, or I should not be 
 alive to tell your Excellency the story, but I have 
 
 week. Her reputation throughout Portugal has greatly extended 
 within the last three or four years. I had the pleasure and privilege 
 of paying this future saint a visit. 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 217 
 
 heard tliem plenty of times — heard them whistling 
 and screaming in the air close over my head. Some 
 say they are the ghosts of children unbaptized, who 
 are to know no rest till the Judgment Day. Once, 
 last winter, the night before the New Year, I was 
 going with three donkeys and a mule, laden with 
 flour, to Caia ; the road passes by the bank of the 
 river nearly all the way, and I stopped to tighten 
 the mulos girth. Just at that moment — Holy Vir- 
 gin ! I shook all over like a milho leaf — I say just 
 at that moment I heard the accursed Whistlers 
 coming down the wind along the river. I buried 
 my head under the mulo^s belly, and never moved it 
 until the danger was over; but they must have 
 passed very near, for I heard the flap and rustle of 
 their wings as clear as I hear the tread of our horses' 
 feet on the ground at this moment." 
 " And what was the danger ? '■ 
 " The danger ? Only that if a man once looks 
 up at them, and sees them, heaven only knows what 
 will not happen to him — death and damnation at the 
 very least." 
 
 " When I think," said I, " that I have seen them 
 scores of times ! " 
 
 Francisco clearly did not believe me. 
 " And what did your Excellency do ? " he asked, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " I shot them, or tried to." 
 
218 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 " Holy Mother of God ! you English are an 
 awful people. My father and mother have stories . 
 about your nation that I never believed till now. 
 You shot at the Seven Whistlers ? " 
 
 "Yes; we call them marecos (teal or widgeon), 
 in our country, and shoot them whenever we can. 
 They are better to eat than wild ducks." 
 
 Francisco said nothing to this. I believe he 
 crossed himself at this revelation of irreverence, 
 but the darkness would not let me see ; I know he 
 was terribly frightened, and presently I had good 
 cause to wish I had dealt more patiently with his 
 folly. 
 
 "\Ye had been going for some time through the 
 forest, and had Francisco been the best guide in the 
 world, he would have been out of his reckoning in 
 a dark wood, where the cattle paths crossed and 
 recrossed each other in every direction. I had been 
 endeavouring to steer some sort of a course through 
 the wilderness of trees by making from one to another 
 opening in their tops. At last I became uncertain 
 and puzzled, and pulled up to strike a light and con- 
 sult my compass. I knew that Juromenha, which 
 we were making for, lay on the right bank of the 
 Guadiana, which here forms the boundary between 
 Portugal and Spain, and at a spot where the river 
 is joined by an affluent from the north, and therefore 
 I felt no doubt that we should reach our destination 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL, 219 
 
 in course of time, seeing tliat by keeping either soutli 
 or west till we came to either river, and following its 
 course, we must, in time, come to Juromenha. It 
 was to be my fate, however, to pass neither that 
 night, nor any subsequent night, within the fortified 
 walls of Juromenha. 
 
 I pulled my horse up, and got off him to strike 
 a match. It was a perfectly still night, with a con- 
 tinual drizzle of rain. I had got out my compass, 
 and I was searching in the dark for the match-box, 
 when a noise, quite close to us, broke upon the 
 silence of the night, and caused my guide to start 
 and make a pious exclamation. 
 
 " What was that? " he asked in a voice trembling 
 with terror. 
 
 "Only a branch cracking. Don't be a fool, 
 Francisco." 
 
 I struck three or four of the wax matches at once 
 to make a strong light, the better to see the face of 
 the compass. The explosion and the sudden glare 
 startled my horse, whose rein had been dropped by 
 the guide in his own terror, and the loose horse set 
 off at a hand gallop through the wood, pursued by 
 Francisco. In a few minutes they were out of hear- 
 ing. Then presently I heard the returning sound of 
 horses* hoofs coming towards me. I shouted out 
 loudly several times, but man and horses went on 
 unheeding, clattering through the wood like the wild 
 
220 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 huntsman and his attendant demons. The ground 
 was uneven, and I listened anxiously, fully expecting 
 the chase to be brought to a sudden conclusion by 
 the precipitation of the whole party into one of the 
 many ravines that crossed the wood ; but fortune 
 favoured them, and, finally, the sound grew less as 
 they got farther, and I heard nothing more. 
 
 It was a singularly unpromising situation. I did 
 not know within two or three leagues where I was. 
 During the two hours since we had been passing 
 through the wood, we had not once seen the light of 
 a cottage. I did not even know whether the track 
 I was in led anywhere, or was a path used by pigs 
 or cattle. Even should Francisco recover the horse 
 and his senses, he would be unable to find me, for 
 he would have lost his bearings and all knowledge 
 of my whereabouts when the horse had doubled 
 back, probably from having arrived at a wall or 
 impassable ravine. So I sat down under the shelter 
 of a chestnut-tree, struck a light, and discovered 
 from my compass that the guide and horses had 
 disappeared in a due northerly direction. This could 
 certainly not lead to Juromenha, and it was useless 
 to follow them. It was a warm, still night ; the 
 rain did not reach me through the leaves of the 
 tree. I fortunately held in my hand, when the 
 horse bolted, the smaller of the two pair of saddle- 
 bags that my horse carried, and these contained 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAR 221 
 
 what experience liad taught me never to travel 
 without, a store of bread and a skin of wine. 
 
 A man in a heavy cloak, long riding-boots, and 
 carrying a pair of saddle-bags, is not in the condition 
 to take a long walk in the dark, but he has all that 
 he wants for a bivouac, and there is that — or, more 
 correctly, there are those — about Portuguese beds 
 and bedrooms which make the prospect of a night 
 spent al fresco not altogether disagreeable. I took 
 off my spurs, I wrapped my cloak round me, I ate 
 some bread and wine, I leant back against the tree, 
 and in a few minutes was fast asleep ; and I must 
 admit that I have spent many a worse night than 
 this short summer's one that I passed in a rain- 
 storm in a Portuguese wood, with my back against a 
 chestnut tree. 
 
 I awoke very early, dreaming that I was at a con- 
 cert whereat a solo performer on the violin drew so 
 exquisitely plaintive and prolonged a note from his 
 instrument, as filled me with admiration and woke 
 me up. The musical sound was in my ears as I 
 opened my eyes, and so distinctly, as to make me 
 think for a moment that I was listening to the notes 
 of a real instrument. It was a sound well enough 
 known to every traveller in Portugal — the rubbing 
 of the revolving wooden axletree of a cart in its 
 groove — a noise which, heard close by, is by far the 
 most ear-rending that I am acquainted with — a 
 
222 TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 
 
 deafening sound, compounded of a shriek and a 
 groan. The carters get accustomed to it, and the 
 oxen are said to Hke it ; moreover, it is sovereign 
 against ghosts, and frightens off wolves ; on which 
 accounts, though a drop of oil would stop it, and 
 though the friction must wear the cart and increase 
 the labour of the oxen, the noise is endured, and 
 "even aggravated by rubbing the parts with lemon 
 juice. But this hideous noise is much softened by 
 distance, and heard from a mile or two off, it has a 
 positively musical tone, not unlike the long-drawn 
 legato notes of a violin. 
 
 This was the sound that woke me in the early 
 dawn. I walked towards the cart, not a little as- 
 tonishing the driver by my sudden apparition. He 
 had heard nothing of my guide and the horses, but 
 he advised me to enquire at the neighbouring vil- 
 lage, and to speak to the priest, as the person most 
 likely to know ; and thither I took my way. 
 
 The village of Cruados lies six or seven miles 
 north of Juromenha — so far had my guide led me 
 astray. The people were already about, and the 
 first thing I saw was the prints of the horses' hoofs 
 in front of the priest's house ; but the padre him- 
 self, apparently an important person in these parts, 
 whose hospitable stable was no doubt well known 
 to my runaway steed — the padre himself was from, 
 home. An old woman answered my knock with an 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 223 
 
 *'Ali, Jesus! " from an upper window, then let me 
 in, and began to explain, witli horrible volubility, 
 liow the guide had come in in the middle of the 
 night. Goitado 1 — poor fellow ! — he was nearer 
 dead than alive — ^he was frightened out of his senses. 
 I had been spirited away ; ho could see nothing ; he 
 had heard awful sounds, and had fled for his life and 
 his soul — and so forth. 
 
 I strode towards the stables, filled with an 
 immense anger against my faithless guide. He was 
 comfortably wrapped up in my rugs, lying in the 
 wide manger — the groom's bed in a Portuguese inn 
 — between the noses of the feeding horses. An un- 
 friendly hand on his collar and a good shake woke 
 him up. 
 
 " Now,*^' I said, *' you insupportable idiot, what 
 do you mean by leaving me last night in the middle 
 of the wood? " 
 
 '' Is that really your Excellency," the man said, 
 "alive and well?" 
 
 I gave him half-a-dozen sufficient proofs of my 
 existence in the shape of additional shakes by the 
 collar. 
 
 '* Why did you not answer when I called to you, 
 you rascal?" 
 
 " Was that really and truly yourself that called ?" 
 
 *^ And what or who did you think it was.'* 
 
 " Who did I think it was, your Excellency ? " 
 
224 TRAVELS IN POliTUGAL. 
 
 " Yes ; wlio could you suppose it was but me ? " 
 " I thought," said my fooHsh guide, " I really 
 thought it must be an alma do outro mundo — a soul 
 from the land of ghosts ! " 
 
 This is, I am obliged to confess, the only adven 
 ture that ever occurred to me in my travels through 
 Portugal — an admission which, I trust, the reader 
 will accept as an apology for making so long a story 
 of so small a matter. Portugal is a safe country ; 
 there are no brigands ; the only thieves keep inns, 
 and the only formidable wild beasts live in them. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Eostess at Monsaras a Shrew— Her Volubility and Use of Proverls^ 
 Spanish Frontier — Line of Demarcation Distinct between Spanish 
 and Portuguese Character — Tlie Portuguese Language — Affectation 
 of the Brazilians — Portuguese Share in " Pigeon English " — 
 Portuguese a Living and Growing Language — An Instance; 
 Origin of Word, Fajardismo — An Intelligent Swindle — Olivengat 
 once Portuguese, now Spanish — Radical and Important Difference 
 between Spanish and Portuguese National Character and Institu- 
 tions. 
 
 I HAD always held the people of Northern Portugal 
 to be the greatest talkers in the country, exceeding 
 in loquacity the people of the province of Beira, who 
 are yet not a silent race, and greater talkers than 
 those of the Alemtejo, who seemed to me for the 
 most part a down- spirited and listless people ; but 
 in inexhaustible conversation the Portuguese of this 
 south-eastern corner of the kingdom bear the palm. 
 My guide was a great talker, the padre's house- 
 keeper was a greater, and in the hostess of the inn 
 at Monsaras, where we put up on the following 
 night, I encountered a woman who was decidedly 
 the superior of both. She was also a terrible shrew. 
 Like Mr. Nichol's heroine, she 
 
 " Made a golden tumult in the house," 
 
 16 
 
226 TRAVELS IN FOBTUGAL. 
 
 and began very early indeed in the day. Her 
 tongue was the last thing I heard at night, and it 
 woke me prematurely next morning. Having heard 
 the story of our misadventure of the previous day, 
 she took upon herself, I know not why, to rate the 
 guide soundly for his stupidity, telling him that he 
 talked too much— an odd reproach from her ! She 
 bid him remember that silence was golden; that 
 pela hocca morreu o peixe — his mouth was the fish's 
 death ; that na hocca cerrada nao entra moscarda — if 
 his lips were shut, hornets could not fly down his 
 throat. She advised him to fallar pouco e fallar hem, 
 ou ter-teliao jpor ninguem — to talk little and talk well, 
 or be counted as nobody. 
 
 Proverbs are not common in Portuguese mouths, 
 and I never heard any one who made such a trade 
 in this second-hand species of wit as this hostess of 
 Monsaras. Perhaps it is the close neighbourhood of 
 Spain, and of that province of it where proverbs 
 most abound, which influences the people of this 
 corner of the kingdom. Andalusia is only half-a- 
 dozen leagues from us at Monsaras, and lower down, 
 only the Guadiana separates Portuguese and Anda- 
 lusians. 
 
 There is a brisk contraband trade across the 
 river, though it is a broad, rapid, and treacherous 
 sti'eam ; the mountainous nature of the country on 
 both sides, the vicinity of important trading sea- 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 227 
 
 ports on tlie Spanish and the Portuguese sides of 
 the Guadiana, make smuggling a tempting as well 
 as a profitable speculation, so long as the two coun- 
 tries continue the stupidity of separate tariffs. 
 
 Notwithstanding this degree of intercourse, the 
 line of demarcation is nearly as sharp here as I had 
 already observed it to be on the northern frontier 
 river of Spain and Portugal. There is that inherent 
 antipathy between the two races which has so mar- 
 vellously kept them apart, with but one short and 
 violently-effected union, for so many long centuries 
 — a circumstance by no means to be deplored in the 
 interests of Portugal. " Spain and Portugal," a 
 Portuguese gentleman once said to me, " though in 
 such close contact at so many points, can never 
 naturally coalesce; they are Wee two men sitting hack 
 to hach to each other ivho will never turn their heads^ 
 
 I expected to find Spanish words and a Spanish 
 accent in the Portuguese of this district, but I found 
 no trace of either. The language, to be sure, is 
 different from that of the north, and this again 
 differs from that of Lisbon and its neighbourhood ; 
 but the difference is in no case so marked as between 
 the English of Yorkshire and of Cornwall.- In the 
 northern provinces it is broad, in the south sharp in 
 sound, and it is in the north that confessedly the 
 purest idiom and purest accent are to be found. 
 The sub-province of Beira Baixa is the Tuscany of 
 
228 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 Portugal, and the university town of Coimbra, set in 
 its midst, is to Portuguese what Hanover is to Ger- 
 mans, or Blois and Orleans to Frenchmen. The 
 language spoken at Lisbon is by no means so pure, 
 being a decidedly cockney Portuguese, marked by a 
 lisping drawl, and some amount of affectation. 
 
 The Brazilians claim to speak better Portuguese 
 than the Portuguese themselves, just as our former 
 colonists in North America claim to have taken with 
 them the language of Shakespeare, as well as our 
 whole available stock of virtue and intelligence. 
 The claim can only be admitted in either case by 
 allowing the claimants to set up their own stan- 
 dards, and to judge by them. The European Por- 
 tuguese affect great purism in language, and their 
 claims to exclusive correctness are quite as ridicu- 
 lous as our own and those of our American cousins. 
 "The Brazilians talk a wretched Portuguese." A 
 gentleman once remarked to me ; '' they say Belleza 
 instead of Belleza, as of course they ought to pro- 
 nounce it. Kow," he said, "what can be more 
 thoroughly ridiculous than that ?" 
 
 There is commonly repeated the error that Spanish 
 and Portuguese are dialects of the same language, 
 and that Portuguese is but a broken down Spanish. 
 No one, of course, who had even a smattering of 
 both languages — still less any one who had in- 
 structed himself ever so slightly in the early history 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 229 
 
 of the Peninsula, but would know that this was a 
 mistake. Both tongues, it is true, are constructed 
 from the ruins of the same great ancient language — 
 like two fine buildings both built of stones hewn 
 from the same quarry — but the result is strikingly 
 dissimilar. The Portuguese is, next to English, 
 perhaps the most flexible and adaptable lan- 
 guage in Europe. For conversational purposes it 
 is admittedly better suited than the more formal 
 Castilian ; and if there happens to be not a single 
 tolerable comedy in Portuguese and a hundred good 
 ones in Spanish, it is only that the genius of Portu- 
 guese literature has not lain in that direction. The 
 earliest and one of the best of novels in the partly 
 romantic and partly analytical style was written, 
 more than three centuries ago, in Portuguese. 
 Antonio Yieyra's famous satirical Arte de Furtar, 
 the Art of Thieving, is a masterpiece in its own 
 picaresque style, and the same language which is 
 so suitable to these humbler themes is the vehicle 
 of one of the four great epics that have appeared 
 since the new birth of letters. As a historical me- 
 dium, Barros and Herculano have shown that it is 
 nearly perfect. For travels it is admirably suited, 
 admitting easily of every variation of - narrative. 
 The most singular recognition of the versatility of 
 the Portuguese language is the remark I once 
 heard from a dignitary of the Church — that it is 
 
230 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 the pleasantest of all languages to preacli a sermon 
 in. 
 
 Of all the tongues of the Peninsula, though the 
 Galician and the Catalan seemed at one time to 
 promise well, only the Castilian and the Portuguese 
 have crystallized themselves into true national lan- 
 guages, possessing real literatures of their own and 
 distinct characteristics ; and not one whit a less true 
 and living language than the grand speech of Spain 
 is that spoken by the smaller nation who, though 
 numerically but a fourth of their neighbours, have 
 spread their race and their language'-'" far the more 
 widely of the two over the face of the v^orld. 
 
 * The Portuguese must share with oiirselves the responsibility 
 for that most barbarous and ridiculous of all lingua francas, the 
 " pigeon-English " of China. " Joss house," a temple, and " Joss,'*^ 
 a god, are from the Portuguese Dios. The model word upon which the 
 dialect seems to have been formed is the Portuguese sahe, he knows, 
 or, do you know ? It no doubt got to be a constantly repeated ex- 
 pletive and interrogation with those who were bungling on in the 
 attempt to make themselves intelligible, and has become the 
 " savey " of the modern pigeon-English. " Piecey," another indis- 
 pensable word, is not from the English "piece," as is generally 
 asserted, but from the Portuguese " pe9a," a much commoner and 
 more serviceable word. It comes simply to express unity, and the 
 " one " of the dialect is not the English " one," but obviously the 
 indefinite article " um " in Portuguese. " One sheep " in pigeon- 
 English is equivalent to a sheep; "one piecey sheep," a single or 
 individual sheep. Even such reduplicated words as chow-chow and 
 chop-chop, which give pigeon-English such a ludicrous and idiotie 
 sound, are probably a trick of Portuguese speech. Vai logo is in. 
 Portuguese "go now;" vai logo logo, "go at once." Writers on 
 the etymology of pigeon-English do not admit its full indebtedness. 
 to Portuguese, and oddly enough the word they do invariably trace 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 231 
 
 Portuguese, like all true languages, is a living 
 and growing one, lending to and borrowing from its 
 neighbours, and even coining words afresh as it 
 needs them. It has as curious a philological history 
 as our own, and only requires a Trench or a Max 
 Miiller, or, may we say, a Gladstone, to make this 
 history a most interesting one. 
 
 As evidence of the readiness of the Portuguese to 
 coin words, I will record one curious instance which 
 has come to my own knowledge. There lives in 
 Portugal an individual who has during several years 
 been acquiring a certain fame of an unenviable kind. 
 I could not do this gentleman a greater disservice 
 than to refrain from stating that his name is Fajardo. 
 Senhor Fajardo lives by his wits, and is not often 
 restrained by any excessive scrupulosity from allow- 
 ing full scope to his genius. As a preux chevalier 
 dHndustrie, he is perhaps without a rival anywhere. 
 A tall, thin man, with a peculiar, cynical, but not 
 disagreeable smile on his face — a face singularly like 
 the prints of Talleyrand — he is well known in the 
 streets of nearly every large town in Portugal. He 
 is also not unacquainted with the interior of some of 
 the gaols, but Fajardo has too many friends and too 
 
 to that language is Mandarin from the Portuguese mandar, to send 
 or order — one in command. It is however certainly an imported 
 Indian word, mantrin, signifying a counsellor. 
 
232 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 mucli influence, and too lofty a genius, to be long 
 restrained by iron bars. There is an element of 
 humour about Fajardo's misdemeanors that quite 
 redeems them from the doings of inferior criminals. 
 A hundred stories circulate about the cleverness of 
 this rogue. Some no doubt are the deeds of less 
 notorious scoundrels than himself, but one particular 
 anecdote has Fajardo for its acknowledged hero. 
 
 At Lisbon it appears that it is the custom for 
 farmers who have for sale fields of those large and 
 valuable onions which are exported to foreign 
 countries to wait upon the merchants or shippers 
 for the purpose of disposing of their crop. One 
 year, when onions were scarce and the price par- 
 ticularly high, a farmer waited upon a principal 
 merchant, and offered a small field for sale. The 
 merchant, who had often before dealt with the 
 farmer, ofiered him rather less than he asked, and 
 the farmer went off. Next day came a person who 
 represented himself to be the farmer's son. He 
 brought a letter from the farmer, in which the 
 merchant's offer was not accepted, but met half 
 way. The merchant prepared to pay the usual 
 earnest money, but the son, a stupid country fellow, 
 refused to charge himself with the receipt of any 
 money. As he was leaving, the merchant perceived 
 a couple of large onions in his hand. 
 
 '* What are those ? " he asked. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 233 
 
 "Never mind wliat they are," said the country- 
 man, boorishly ; " that is my affair." 
 
 But the mei^chant, seeing his way to another 
 bargain, finally drew from the man that these 
 particularly fine onions were samples of another 
 much larger field belonging to his father, and that 
 he was about to exhibit them to another dealer. 
 The merchant insisted on being shown this field, 
 and with some trouble persuaded the man to take 
 him to a field five or six times as large as the one 
 already bought, and filled with superlatively fine 
 onions, he sitting on the wall of it while the mer- 
 chant walked through and examined the crop. 
 
 " I offer you a hundred pounds," said the mer- 
 chant, astutely naming half the true price. 
 
 " No," said the countryman, *' I have been 
 losing my time with you ; my father said Mr. So- 
 and-so would give me one hundred and fifty pounds, 
 and that I was to have a hundred pounds of it down 
 as earnest." 
 
 " Very well, come to my office. The field is 
 rather bigger than I thought, and your father and I 
 are old customers. He shall have his own price." 
 
 The countryman put the earnest-money in his 
 
 bag. " Now I shall go to Mr. , and offer him 
 
 the first field ; you can't want both." 
 
 " Stop ! " said the merchant, " a bargain is a 
 bargain ! you have already sold it to me." 
 
234 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 " No I have not ! " cried tlie farmer's son, losing 
 Ms temper, and shouting at the top of his voice, 
 " you gave me no earnest. I shall go and offer it 
 to Mr. /' and he went to the door. 
 
 "Come, come, my good fellow," said the mer- 
 chant, drawing him back into the office, " business 
 is business — an honest man has but one word. 
 Here, take the" earnest, make your mark on this 
 receipt and go your way." 
 
 Grumbling, and half unwilling, and complaining 
 of the badness of the bargain, the countryman 
 suffered the coins to be counted into his hand. 
 
 It was only when the merchant sent labourers to 
 take up his crop, and found a rival doing the 
 same thing; it was only when he learnt that the 
 farmer never had a son ; it was only when some 
 friend whispered the word Fajardo in his ear, that 
 the merchant discovered that he, too, had fallen a 
 victim to the terrible Fajardo. 
 
 As a story, this has little point ; as an illustra- 
 tion of Portuguese finesse, it is particularly instruc- 
 tive. Fajardo' s swindles have all the complexity and 
 ingenuity of a Hindoo or Chinese intrigue. Let the 
 mystification, be examined step by step, and the 
 completeness and long pre-arrangement necessary to 
 bring it about, the knowledge of all the circum- 
 stances, the time and trouble necessary to inform 
 himself of the particulars of the dealings of the 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 235 
 
 mercliant, tlie caution and the foresight, as of a 
 skilful cliess-player ; Lis assumption of the charac- 
 ter of a simple countryman, his skilful reticence 
 when the money is offered, his final triumphant 
 sweeping of the whole stakes from the table. It 
 is, the French say, tout tin drame, a little comedy of 
 itself, with careful plot, brilliant dialogue, costume 
 in character, and skilful denouement- — wanting indeed 
 a moral and a " tag ;" for the next thing that is 
 heard of Eajardo is, that he is telling the story to a 
 circle of admirers in a town a hundred miles away, 
 and the victim, who had hoped to keep his simplicity 
 a secret, finds the story related in detail in every 
 newspaper he takes up. 
 
 It is this man who has the honour of having his 
 name enshrined in his country's language. Fajar- 
 dismo, in the sense of an ingenious swindle, is 
 intelligible in the remotest corner of Portugal and 
 Brazil. In ten years it will be in every Portuguese 
 dictionary ; ' in a hundred, probably a puzzle to 
 philologists, and a subject for correspondence in 
 the "Athenseum" and "Notes and Queries." I 
 have, therefore, thought well to place on record my 
 own personal knowledge of the origin of the word, 
 not, indeed, anticipating that my Travels will be read 
 a hundred years hence, but in the full confidence that 
 some literary Fajardo will steal the story from me 
 unacknowledged ; that some one else will do as much 
 
236 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 by liim, and that tlius the history of the word may be 
 handed down, by a succession of philological pilferers, 
 to posterity. The somewhat similar origin of the 
 French word JBismarquer (with a not dissimilar signi- 
 fication), is so connected with notorious historical 
 occurrences, that it is never likely to be forgotten ; 
 but Fajardo's performances are known to a smaller 
 circle. 
 
 Like the French language, Portuguese has been 
 in peril of being academized^ and, like the French, it 
 has escaped from the pedants with very little hurt. 
 Ever since the beginning of the seventeenth century, 
 there have been attempts made by certain literary 
 cliques to Latinize its structure, and to do away with 
 all the character and richness it had acquired during 
 the vicissitudes of its long growth. A certain Duarte 
 de Leao, somewhere about the year 1600, had the 
 wisdom to enunciate that the learned alone have the 
 right to decide as to the currency of a word, and he 
 protests solemnly against such barbarisms as espirito 
 and esperar ; they should, he asserts, being taken 
 from Latin, be spirito and sperar. He would have 
 put down all those curious phrases that the people 
 have acquired from their contact with so many 
 various nationalities — such Hebraisms as riquezas e 
 mats riquezas f loucura das loucuras, and so forth; 
 such quaint terms of speech as they picked up from 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 237 
 
 the Arabic, like Oxald, would to Allah ; sucli words 
 as tliey have got from Indian sources, as Zumbada, 
 an act of reverence ; Ghatim, a merchant, and Lascar, 
 which they have handed on to ourselves. Wherever 
 the Portuguese have gone, they have brought back 
 riches for their language, as well as wealth for 
 themselves. Even the barbarous dialects of South 
 America have yielded rich prize, and I have heard it 
 said that a good Portuguese dictionary should con- 
 tain at least two thousand words of Brazilian origin. 
 A very few of them, however, are current in daily 
 speech. 
 
 Then, as I have said, the Portuguese have lent 
 as well as borrowed, a curious instance of which is 
 connected with the well-known history of the old 
 English word Aumbrey, or Almery — the receptacle 
 for vessels from the altar. This had been most in- 
 geniously and learnedly derived from almary, a word 
 signifying cupboard in some Indian languages. Every 
 sound philologist of course knows that this is non- 
 sense, and that Almery comes from the good classic 
 armarium; but it is not, perhaps, so generally 
 known that the Indian " almary " is the Portuguese 
 Almario, a cupboard, with of course the same deri- 
 vation as our English Aumbrey. 
 
 I am afraid the classicists of Leao's time did 
 succeed in banishing some good Arabic words — the 
 Arabic Ghafariz, sl fountain, for instance, once in 
 
238 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 universal use, is now hardly more than a provincial- 
 ism, having been replaced in polite circles by the 
 Latin fonte. On two or three occasions, I have 
 thought I had stumbled in remote districts upon a 
 true Arabic word lost to common speech, and once 
 I was able to make sure I was right. It was in the 
 mountains of Beira, near the famous cathedral city 
 of Yiseu, a wild, roadless country, heath-covered and 
 with long hill ridges extending to the horizon's edge. 
 Not a roof, not a green field nor a tree was visible 
 for miles together ; and every now and then a covey 
 of partridges, as large as grouse, starting with noisy 
 wings from the horse's feet, made the resemblance 
 to a Scotch moor still more perfect. It was in this 
 wilderness, whose contact with the outer world must 
 be very slight and very rare, that, having lost my 
 road, I accosted a brown -cloaked shepherd tending 
 a flock of goats and sheep, and holding up a new 
 crown in my hand, offered it to him, if he would 
 guide me to Viseu. 
 
 " Is it Icasmil ? " said the man, looking suspi- 
 ciously at the coin. 
 
 " Is it what ? " I asked ; for the word is not 
 Dictionary Porkiguese, 
 
 "Isitkasmil? Is it good?'* 
 
 " Take it and try," I said, putting the money 
 into his hand. " Show me the way to Yiseu and you 
 shall have another piece as soon as I see the houses." 
 
He ghsdMuD^iS'^ns in the most 
 having but one garment, a long brown 
 ing to the ankles, and piloted me safely to my^ 
 tination, proving himself a very competent 
 and an agreeable companion. 
 
 It was not till long afterwards that I four 
 word Jcasmil mentioned and truly explained in 
 Spanish author. The word sigmQ.es purk or ci 
 and comes from the Arabic Jcadim, ancienp. 
 Icadzimis or kazmis, are silver pieces of ^ure metal, 
 and the phrase often occurs in ancient (Peninsular 
 deeds and charters. The word perhapb fell into 
 disuse when the tamperings of the Kings of 
 Portugal with the currency of the realm did away 
 with the propriety of its application to coin issuing 
 from the Royal Mint. / | 
 
 To the question often asked. Is Portuguese a 
 difficult language ? I should be inclined to answer 
 that it is the jmost difficult to an Englishman of all 
 the languag^ of Southern Europe, pronunciation 
 and idiom alike presenting greater impediments to 
 an individual \ of the Teutonic races than either 
 Spanish or Italian. There are freaks of syntax, 
 such as a declension of the infiniti^/mood. It is 
 the only ^o^^A language which ha^ J^tained the 
 true Latin\,pluperfect of the i;idicativ^, and it 
 retains, likewfee^t^J^use of thegmmd. As to pro- 
 nunciation, it is ISplrfect/mine of oifl&ijiiflties ; it 
 
240 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 possesses no fewer tlian sixteen different diplitliongs, 
 of wliicli six are more or less nasal. There are 
 sounds in it wliicli cannot be matclied even in 
 Eussian, and one diphthong in Portuguese exists 
 nowhere else, it is said, except in Chinese. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at, then, that English- 
 men have been known to live thirty or forty years 
 in Portugal, and speak Portuguese very much as the 
 Frenchman of the London stage speaks English. 
 The natives find, of course, precisely analogous 
 difficulties in speaking English; fluently, indeed, 
 they often speak, but it is difficult to say how badly. 
 It was a long time a mystery to me how an intel- 
 ligent people like the Portuguese could succeed in 
 making such a hash of a language which foreigners 
 as a rule profess to find easy, and which Italians 
 often speak very well. I at last found the clue to 
 the mystery in a bookseller's shop in Lisbon, in the 
 shape of a conversation-book, from which my Por- 
 tuguese friends had, I now perceived, largely 
 borrowed. A volume on the difference in the genius 
 of the EngHsh and Portuguese languages would not 
 tell so much as the few extracts which I give below 
 from this instructive little work.* 
 
 * I transcribe exactly from tlie Englisli preface of tlie "Nova 
 Quia:' 
 
 " A choice oi familiar dialogues, clean of gallicisms, and despoiled 
 phrases, it was missing yet to studious Portuguese and brazilian 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 241 
 
 To resume the story of my ride from Elvas. 
 Leaving the priest's house, we rode towards the 
 south, passing Juromenha, a fortified town, and I 
 abandoned for lack of time my intention to cross the 
 
 Touth ; and also to persons of otlier nations, that wish to know the 
 Portuguese language. We sought all we may do, to correct that 
 want, composing and divising the present little work in two parts. 
 The first includes a greatest vocabulary proper names by alpha- 
 betical order ; and the second f ourty three Dialogues adapted to the 
 usual precisions of the life. For that reason we did put, with a 
 scrupulous exactness, a great variety own expressions to english and 
 Portuguese idioms ; without to attach us selves (as make some 
 others) almost at a literal translation ; translation what only will 
 be for to accustom the Portuguese pupils, or foreign, to speak very 
 
 bad any of the mentioned idioms We expect then, who the 
 
 little book (for the care what we wi-ote him, and for her typgi-aphi- 
 cal correction) that may be worth the acceptation of the studious 
 persons, and especially of the Youth, at which we dedicate him 
 particularly." 
 
 The dialogues follow the Portuguese idiom still more closely, and 
 are for that reason still more valuable to the foreign student — hardly 
 so much so, perhaps, to the Portuguese. For instance, " Dialogue 
 18. — Foe to ride a horse " is a true rendering of Para montar a 
 cavallo. *' He not sail hiow to inarch, he is pursy, he is foundered," 
 when spoken of the same animal is, to be sure, a slight departure 
 from our English idiom, but still intelligible. "Dont you are 
 ashamed to give me a jade as liJce ? " *' Talce care that he not give 
 you a foot's Jdch." " Go us more, fast." " Never i was seen a so 
 much bad beast," are all racy and forcible rather than common 
 phrases in English mouths. " Let us pricJc" recalls Spenser and 
 the " Faerie Queen." " Pique strongly mahe to march him " is also 
 good and new, and we have no exact . equivalent for the 'idiom. In 
 another dialogue on shooting, occurs the following. " Question ; 
 There is it some game in this wood ? Answer : Another time there 
 was plenty some blach beasts, and thin game, t&c." This is puzzling; 
 another time is outra vez — ^formerly; thin game is caga miuda-^ 
 partridges, hares, and i-abbits, but blach beasts, meaning deer, is 
 
 16 
 
242 * TRAVELS IN POFx^TUGAL. 
 
 Guadiana, and visit tlie Spanisli town of Oliven^a, 
 which, and the transriverain strip of country, was 
 once, and should still be, Portuguese. Taken with 
 the assistance of Napoleon's troops in 1801, it was 
 most solemnly stipulated at the great National 
 Congress of 1815 that Spain was to restore it. No 
 Spanish Government has ever yet found the shadow 
 of an excuse for keeping the town and territory 
 during their sixty years of wrongful occupation. 
 It is one among the many causes which keep ahve the 
 salutary bitterness of Portugal towards her neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 It will always be a subject of regret to me that 
 I was unable to visit Olivenga, which has now 
 for three-fourths of a century ceased to be Portu- 
 guese, and to judge for myself whether the people, 
 
 beyond my intei-pretation. An English laundress is to be told, of a, 
 white waistcoat, " who that he too washed, too many soaped." The 
 lively author of these dialogues, confident as he may appear, is quite 
 aware that linguistic studies have their difficulties, — " Do you speak 
 French V* occui'S in one dialogue. '"Some times — though i flay it 
 yet J" This is surely an admirable expression. No less forcible 
 word will do justice to the sort of English spoken by most Portu- 
 guese, and the English in Portugal no doubt do similar violence to 
 the native idiom. 
 
 Since the first publication of these Travels, Senhor M. Lewtas, 
 the well-known Lisbon lihrairiste and an excellent literary authority, 
 has told me that the Nova Guia is a Brazilian production, and was 
 never much circulated in Lisbon. The Portuguese he maintains to 
 be good linguists. So far as French and Spanish are concerned they 
 arc* so, but, with submission to Senhor Lewtas, I do not think they 
 are so proficient in the Teutonic languages. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 243 
 
 like the Alsatians, are loyal to the country of their 
 forefathers. The Portuguese agree that this is the 
 case. It would be a curious study ; and it is one of 
 the many deficiencies of these Travels, that I cannot 
 enter in them the record of my observations on this 
 pseudo- Spanish soil, but must build up my theories 
 from the wrong side of the Guadiana. 
 
 If Olivenga be governed no worse than the 
 majority of other Spanish towns, it will probably be 
 better governed than when it was Portuguese. Muni- 
 cipal government in Spain is, as is well known, the 
 best sort of government, and has often been nearly the 
 only government, prevailing in that country. Bad 
 as it is — for it is not without corruption — it is better 
 than burghers' rule in Portugal. The mad imbe- 
 cility of the central Spanish Government has, as 
 all students of Peninsular history know, always been 
 arrested on the brink of anarchy by the comparative 
 respectability of the provincial middle and lower 
 classes. They have acted like the weighted keel of 
 an over crank vessel, and steadied the ship of state 
 as she was heeling over with too much sail on. 
 
 There is just this difference between Portuguese 
 and Spaniards — the larger nation is capable of cohe- 
 sion only of small numbers ; the other, of the whole 
 people. It is not easy to say why, but all history 
 shows that this is the case. Like some chemical 
 substances which crystallize in a great single mass 
 
244 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 while others form a hundred crystals each coherent 
 and perfect in itself, Portugal has always been a 
 nation, though a small one ; Spain always virtually, 
 even under its most despotic rulers and at its 
 greatest, an agglomeration of municipalities. When 
 federalism was made a '' cry " by the extreme party 
 in Spain, it by no means possessed the terrors for 
 moderate men that might have been supposed. Span- 
 ish experience of district rule was not unfavourable. 
 In Portugal, I am inclined to think, the very reverse 
 would be the case, and communism in any form would 
 probably have a peculiar horror for a people who 
 are so intimately acquainted with the shameless and 
 almost universal corruption, the unblushing bribery, 
 the petty intrigue and nepotism which reign in the 
 Town Councils in Portugal. 
 
 The little kingdom is, notwithstanding, so well 
 governed on the whole, and so generally contented, 
 that little fear need have been entertained for its 
 safety and prosperity, had it not been for this foul con- 
 tagion, extending through one whole important clais 
 of the community ; here, too, as elsewhere, there are 
 interested andignorant men enough to make themselves 
 the apostles and the party of Internationalism and Ked 
 Republicanism, and there are already signs that it is 
 time for the nation to set its house in order while 
 
 " That two-handed engine at the door 
 
 Stands ready to smite once and smite no more. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 245 
 
 Spain struck down and splintered into a con- 
 geries of communes would still perhaps be — poli- 
 tical prejudice apart — a not ill-governed country ; 
 but if such a fate should ever overtake Portugal, 
 may Heaven save her! Anarchy would be com- 
 plete. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Juromcnha — Desolate Country — Last Stand of Moors of Portugal 
 Made in this Region — Final Wars of Moors and Portuguese 
 Treacherous and Bloody — Shetch of History of the Great Portu- 
 guese Home Crusade — Names of Different Sorts of Christian 
 Marauding Expeditions Preserved in Charters to Towns and 
 Convents — Mertola — Final and Crowning Misadventure of the 
 Guide Francisco. 
 
 JuEOMENHA lies Oil a cliiF overlooking the Guadiana, 
 ■whicli here narrows and runs in a rapid stream. 
 Above the town the banks of the river are low and 
 sandy, and the river broad, shallow and fordable in 
 places for nearly three miles. The fortifications of 
 Juromenha, therefore, if they be well furnished with 
 artillery (a point as to which in Portugal it is pru- 
 dent not to be curious) would command the passage 
 in case of an attack from Spain. 
 
 Following the course of the river to the sea, 
 through a dreary district, and crossing the river, 
 which near Monsaras, runs through wholly Portu- 
 guese territory, to Mourao, I slept there, and 
 reached Moura, due south of it, the following day ; 
 always passing through the same desolate country, 
 relieved here and there by some signs of cultivation. 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 217 
 
 but for tlie most part cistus-covered, treeless, and 
 arid. A monotonous and tiresome ride, not made 
 more agreeable by tlie overpowering heat of the 
 weather, and by the fact of my having got a slight 
 attack of ague at Mourao, which, though going no 
 further than headache and a feeling of oppression, 
 warned me to hasten to the end of my journey. 
 
 As the small and ancient town of Serpa is reached, 
 the mountains grow more rugged, and the valleys 
 richer in cultivation. 
 
 It was in the country which I had been passing 
 through for the last day or two, that some of the 
 battles took place in the long crusade which ended 
 in the expulsion of the Moors from Portugal. It 
 was in these fastnesses that the Infidels made their 
 last stand ; in this difScult country, with a broad 
 and rapid river in their front, and behind them the 
 yet unconquered Moorish districts of Andalusia and 
 Spanish Estremadura. This trans- Guadianian dis- 
 trict had indeed been pierced long before by the 
 first and most enterprising of the Portuguese 
 monarchs. Serpa itself, Mertola (a little to the 
 south), Juromenha, and other strongholds, as far as 
 Truxillo, in Spain, were wrested from the Moors by 
 the great Portuguese conqueror ;* but the district 
 was regained by the Moslems, and did not become 
 
 * According to both Christian and Moorish chronicles, though 
 they differ by ten years as to the date of this extensive raid. 
 
248 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Christian till the best part of a century after- 
 wards. 
 
 The fighting that was done towards the end of 
 the wars in these outlying corners of the monarchy, 
 was bloody and cruel. The day of chivalry had 
 gone by. If its influence had ever done much to 
 mitigate the ferocity on either side, or to diminish 
 the treachery of Moors and Christians, all which is 
 very doubtful, that influence had ceased to prevail. 
 Moura is supposed to owe its name to the treachery 
 with which a Moorish maiden was slain, or driven 
 to suicide, after the foul murder of her lover by a 
 Portuguese soldier, who dressed himself in his habit, 
 and so entered and took the town with his followers. 
 The legend, notwithstanding its popularity, pos- 
 sesses no particular flavour of authenticity, and the 
 derivation has obviously no sort of probability. Such 
 legends as this, whether they be true or false, like 
 that of the treacherous capture of Santarem by the 
 Portuguese during a truce, and the cruel stratagem 
 which gained Evora, faithfully reflect the altogether 
 unchivalrous nature of the struggle, which was be- 
 coming embittered by religious hatred and bigotry 
 on both sides. 
 
 It has been my habit in my travels in Portugal 
 to make a point of inquiring into the existence of 
 old charters, deeds, and other documents in the 
 various towns. Such ancient muniments are often 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 2^9 
 
 preserved witli scrupulous care by tlie cliapters in 
 cathedral cities, the priests of parish churches, and 
 the municipal bodies of the town. Some jealousy 
 — a very natural and proper feeling — has often been 
 exhibited ; but with a little management I have 
 almost always succeeded in getting access to the 
 deed-box or muniment chamber. 
 
 I had hoped to find these trans- Guadianian towns 
 peculiarly rich in ancient documents, and so they 
 doubtless are, but my inquiries in every case were 
 checked. Either the near neighbourhood of Spain 
 made them suspicious of a stranger, or they had been 
 careless keepers of their muniments, and had nothing 
 to show. Inquire where I would, at Moura, Mourao, 
 or Mertola, I found nothing. 
 
 The tenure of land, originally for the most part 
 vested, as it was taken from the Infidel, in the church, 
 or in the Militant Orders of the Templars and 
 Knights of Jerusalem who fought in the van of the 
 great home crusade, might certainly have been ex- 
 pected to be recorded more distinctly in the case of 
 the comparatively recent endowments in these dis- 
 tricts than elsewhere. At Mertola I was told of a 
 transfer deed, dated 1302, and at Moura of a charter 
 of King Sancho, who died in 1211, alluding to the 
 original grant of a tract of land on the left bank of 
 the Guadiana, but these documents are, with many 
 others, hidden away in the Lisbon State Paper OfKce. 
 
250 TBAVELS IN FOBTUGAL. 
 
 Cursory as lias been my study of these old Por- 
 tuguese charters, transfers, and royal grants, and 
 incompetent as I am, in many ways, to speak with 
 authority, I have seen enough of them in various 
 parts of Portugal to perceive what a mine of histori- 
 cal wealth they afford — a mine, too, w^hich has been 
 as yet hardly at all worked. Herculano's narrative 
 of the early years of the monarchy, admirable as it 
 is, is founded mainly upon the chroniclers, Christian 
 and Mahometan, neither of whom can be considered 
 quite honest. His history is like the summing up by 
 a good judge of the evidence of a host of untrust- 
 worthy witnesses. It is good, thoughtful history, 
 and the author does not sin on the side of credulity ; 
 but the reader cannot accept a narration in which 
 the historian is himself too honest to put his whole 
 faith ; and when Herculano leaves off at the end of 
 the thirteenth century, all is doubt and confusion. 
 
 The history of mediaeval Portugal is peculiarly 
 interesting as being to a great degree complete in 
 itself, as being less complicated with the affairs of 
 other countries than perhaps that of any European 
 kingdom, and yet as containing in itself all the ele- 
 ments of change, and all the causes of vicissitude, 
 which have presided at the rise and fall of other 
 states. Feudalism, or rather the germs of it, which 
 grew into a sort of national clanship ; the great 
 faith-feud which succeeded to what, was, at first, a 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, 251 
 
 race-feud — a struggle between two nations for do- 
 mination ; then the usurpations of the church, and 
 the prudent temporizing of the rulers of the country 
 with the Court of Eome ; their wise absorption of the 
 Military Orders into the state ; the balance of the 
 various estates of the realm — all this would make 
 most instructive reading, treated not, of course, as 
 a patriotic Portuguese can only treat his country's 
 history, but from the point of view of a scientific 
 and impartial foreign historian. 
 
 In travelling through the parts of Portugal 
 which I had hitherto visited — the northern and 
 north-eastern frontier — and now through this long- 
 contested border land of what was once the Moorish 
 kingdom of Al Gharb, and is now shrunk in dimen- 
 sion to the modern province of Algarve, — in passing 
 through this range of country, with the ruins of 
 Moorish and Christian strongholds on every pro- 
 minent height, one is singularly impressed with the 
 obstinacy of the long fight which was maintained 
 for centuries among the defiles, the forests, and by 
 the river fords and mountain passes. It was like 
 our Scotch and Welsh border fio^hting^ — a war of 
 raids and border frays, of sieges of walled towns 
 and strong places. Pitched battles were rare ; the 
 Saracens were superior in cavalry, but they could 
 not withstand the shock of the Portuguese infantry, 
 and avoided encounters in the open field. 
 
252 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Wherever the shifting border-Hne lay, it was 
 crossed regularly year after year, when the crops 
 were ready to be harvested, by whichever party felt 
 itself the stronger ; and the ground gained on these 
 occasions by the Portuguese finds record in the 
 various existing deeds, grants, and charters. For 
 this reason, these ancient documents furnish a far 
 more true and lively picture of the manners and 
 history of those times than the half-romantic annals^ 
 of the mediaeval chroniclers. 
 
 The mere variety in the nomenclature of these 
 marauding expeditions is, of itself, an evidence of 
 the long continuance of the warlike mode of life 
 in medieval Portugal. We learn from the old docu- 
 ments how many different ways were adopted by 
 the Portuguese of carrying death and destruction 
 among their border enemies, and of saving them- 
 selves from similar incursions. In ancient charters 
 such words Azaria, Hoste, Appelido, Fronteira, and 
 Anaduva, are frequently met with, each one of 
 which tells its own wild tale of a warlike people 
 inured to arms, but never ceasing to till the soil. 
 The Azaria was the name given to an expedition 
 made into the enemy's lines, when the farmers yoked 
 their oxen to their carts, and carrying axes on their 
 shoulders, ventured into the enemy's country to cut 
 firewood. The Azaria was the band who accom- 
 panied the waggoners and wood-cutters, armed with 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 253 
 
 the aza, or woodman's axe. Land in Portugal is 
 still lield by tlie grant made to the captain who 
 would lead an Azaria into a dangerous tract. 
 
 The Aduana appears to have been an expedition 
 of working men to repair fortifications, though its 
 apparent derivation from adua, a herd, would seem 
 to imply some connection with cattle-lifting. The 
 Hoste was an expeditionary force, a small army, 
 taking the field regularly. The Appelido, as its 
 name implies, was a sudden call to arms of the whole 
 population of a town or commune. These Appelidos 
 were often made necessary at a moment's notice by 
 the sudden irruption of the enemy ; and it is more 
 than once related how the people would be roused 
 from their beds by the fearful cry of Mouros na 
 terra ! Moradores as armas ! " The Moors are on 
 us ; to arms ! to arms ! " 
 
 These picturesque calls to arms were apparently 
 not always justified by the actual presence of an 
 enemy, and were, it may be presumed, sometimes 
 made to gratify a private pique against a neighbour, 
 or a desire for his flocks and herds ; for it is stipu- 
 lated in a charter given to the town of Freixo d'Es- 
 pada Cinto, in 1098 — one of the earliest of Portu- 
 guese documents — that the knights are to join the 
 Appelido, cum opus fuerit, when necessary, sed non 
 transeant aquas Durii nisi cum rege, " but they are 
 not to cross the Douro unless the king be with 
 
254 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 them ; " whereby it would seem to be implied that 
 these persons were in the habit of taking the law 
 into their own hands, and harrying their neighbours 
 without provocation. Another charter, given nearly 
 a hundred years later, lays down, evidently with the 
 same purpose, that the people of Folgosa are not to 
 form an Appelido^ nisi ergo super vos venerint Mauros^ 
 vel gens aliena — " except upon an actual invasion of 
 Moors or Spaniards.*' 
 
 The Fossado was a raid of a more actively offen- 
 sive character made into the enemy's country com 
 Quao poderosa, ''with the strong hand," to cut down 
 and appropriate his harvest and his fruit, and to 
 carry off his sheep and his cattle. The Fronteira 
 was a marauding excursion primarily to guard the 
 frontier line, and secondarily to rob, murder, and 
 destroy whenever the chance offered. All these 
 varieties of raids and expeditions were, as might be 
 supposed, the origin of the tenure of land, — the 
 circumstances being often fully and exactly recited 
 in grants and charters. 
 
 At Mertola, on the right side of the Guadiana, 
 and within a few leagues of its mouth, the river 
 
 * The critics must not accuse me of false syntax. In Portuguese 
 and Spanish the nominative plural is formed from the Latin accu- 
 sative, and with proper names the mediaeval Latinists follow the 
 vemacujar form. Gens aliena are here the people of Leon. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 255 
 
 begins to be practicable for large boats; this fine 
 river, a deep and sluggisb stream through a great 
 part of its earlier course is interrupted in its navi- 
 gability as it flows through the gorges of the Abe- 
 Iheira range of hills between Serpa and Mertola by 
 a series of falls and rapids. South of Mertola, a 
 strong place in Mediaeval times, with, as usual, 
 a Moorish castle on its tallest hill, the country is 
 still mountainous, the hills bare-topped, but with 
 signs of cultivation more frequent in the valleys. 
 
 I was tired of my stumbling and lazy horse, 
 and my guide, like myself, was suffering from ague. 
 In a country where marsh malaria prevails, even to 
 so slight a degree as it does in Portugal, all one's 
 trifling disorders, one's colds and headaches, are apt 
 to hang about one in an intermittent or agueish 
 form. One is slightly feverish and uneasy at one 
 time of the day, listless at another, and chilly at a 
 third. Englishmen in these times fortunately scarcely 
 know what the old words *' tertian " and " quartan " 
 mean, and English travellers in the Peninsula 
 are puzzled what to make of their symptoms at 
 first, but they soon learn the virtues of quinine, and 
 if they are wise, never go without it. 
 
 Francisco who, as I have related, was not difficult 
 in the matter of faith, had absolutely none in the 
 bitter powder of which I made him take large doses. 
 He had become very sulky, and it was partly my own 
 
256 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 fault. Two days before, we had liad to cross a deep 
 and narrow stream, and disliking to get as wet as he 
 inevitably would if he remained in the saddle, he 
 persisted, against my strong advice, in trying to 
 cross dry-foot at a place where a fallen and rotting 
 tree had nearly spanned the channel. His horse 
 followed mine through the water. When I had got 
 safely over I vfatched him, fully expecting to see 
 the tree bend with his weight and let him down into 
 the water ; but almost the reverse of this happened, 
 for Francisco, getting upon the trunk, safely reached 
 the middle of the stream, when his weight slowly 
 forced down the branches which all but reached to 
 my side of the stream, and the tree-top dipping into 
 the stream and catching the full force of the current 
 suddenly broke off short, and as the tree was still 
 firmly attached to its twisted roots, their strain lifted 
 the trunk, thus relieved of its top weight, three or 
 four feet into the air, and with it the terrified Fran- 
 cisco. 
 
 He had been cautiously and very skilfully creep- 
 ing along the narrow trunk on hands and knees with 
 so knowing an expression of countenance that I made 
 sure he would get over safely, when, as our children's 
 books say, "Lo and behold !" he was suddenly jerked 
 up into the air in this astonishing manner. The jerk, 
 too, as ill luck would havQ it, disturbed his equili- 
 brium, and in his scuffle to maintain it, he remained 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, 257 
 
 hanging across the tree trunk, suspended helplessly 
 by the middle, like the sign of the Golden Fleece 
 over a mercer's shop, while his hat floated gaily down 
 the stream. 
 
 I laughed to that extent that I could not for a 
 moment get off my horse. When I recovered I 
 called to him to wriggle himself back to the other 
 side, which he did very successfully, with fearful 
 muscular exertion and contortions of face, manag- 
 ing to throw himself on the muddy bank and 
 clasp it with outstretched hands and feet, and 
 only slipping back into the water up to his 
 knees. 
 
 His first proceeding was to pursue his hat and 
 angle for it with a long stick from the bank ; his 
 next to beg me, with tears in his voice, to bring 
 the horses over and let him ride across over the 
 ford. All this being done, and Francisco on the 
 right side of the river, I lost no time in ad- 
 ministering to him a very stiff dose of brandy and 
 quinine. 
 
 We rode on our way, but Francisco was in a bad 
 humour. It was partly my having laughed at him, 
 partly, I believe, the bitter taste of the medicine, 
 for if I looked at him during the rest of that day, 
 he would make a horribly wry face as if he still tasted 
 the quinine. 
 
 " I will never touch that stuff of your Excel- 
 
 17 * 
 
258 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 lency's in all my life again,'* lie said, after riding by 
 me in silence for an hour. 
 
 " What stuff— the brandy ?" 
 
 "No, those pozes do inferno — those devil's pow- 
 ders, which you put into it I '' 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Soat Journey down the Guadiana to Villa Nova — Scenery and Botany 
 of Province of Algarve — The Locust Tree — Boatmen s Stories 
 — The Ginet — Mr. Mason's Successful Mining at San Domingo — 
 Emharhfor Lisbon in a Trading Schooner — The East Wind ; its 
 Bad Beputation — Proverbs — The "Boch" of Lisbon; Why so 
 ' called — Viseu — Its Famous Pictures — Gran Vasco — Discussion as 
 to his Authorship of Pictures ascribed to him — The Province of 
 Beira — Its Unsophisticated Inhabitants — Their Singular Dress—' 
 Their Probable Origin — Bemarhs on Travel Writing— Culture 
 and Good Manners and Nature of the People — A Theory Un- 
 supported by Facts — A Portuguese Priest — His Stories about 
 Wolves — Diminution of Wolves in the Country— Good and In- 
 offensive Character of the Priest — His Views on Sport — Through 
 Oporto Northward — Monastic Church of Le^a do Balio — Des- 
 cription of a Pine Forest — Barcellos — A Portuguese School In- 
 spection — Farming — Strong Traces of Boman Farm System — 
 "Green Wine;" its Taste and Good Effects — Becapitulation of 
 Impressions of the Portuguese, as a People. 
 
 A SULKY guide, a lazy horse, and a slight attack of 
 ague, all indisposed me to continue my journey on 
 horseback along the course of the frontier river, the 
 Guadiana, towards the southern coast of Portugal. 
 I therefore got rid of both horse and guide at Mer- 
 tola, sending back my guide and selling the horse to 
 a farmer at the inn. 
 
260 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 A little south of Mertola, the Guadiana, which 
 for some sixty miles had flowed between Portuguese 
 banks, again forms the boundary between Spain and 
 Portugal, and continues to separate the two king- 
 doms, till it enters the sea at the town and harbour 
 of Villa Real de Sant' Antonio. I hired a boat at 
 Mertola, and was taken down the river to Villa Real, 
 a most pleasant and luxurious expedition. I have 
 seldom so enjoyed a boating excursion. My three 
 boatmen were tall, slight, Moorish-looking men, very 
 lively and communicative. The banks of the river, 
 down which we glided with great rapidity, are in the 
 upper part of its course exceedingly lovely, and, in 
 places, richly cultivated. The maize and wheat 
 fields of the north and centre of Portugal are re- 
 placed in Algarve (we enter this small province a 
 little below Mertola) by orchards of figs and of 
 almond trees ; waste land is covered not invariably 
 by cistus and heath, as in the central provinces, nor 
 by gorse and broom, as in northern Portugal, but 
 occasionally by a dense undergrowth of the dwarf 
 palm of Portugal. 
 
 The locust-tree, in shape, size and appearance 
 like an apple-tree, but evergreen and very orna- 
 mental, is a marked feature of the landscape in 
 Algarve. The horn-shaped pod, with its sweetish, 
 starchy contents, is a valuable food in southern Por- 
 tugal, and is sold at fruit-stalls, as nuts and apples 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 261 
 
 are with us in England, in every town and village of 
 the kingdom. In a dry climate like this of Algarve, 
 where if water fails, all cereals must fail too, what a 
 boon and blessing must this tree be ! It is poor 
 food to live on, my boatmen told me, but it is abun- 
 dant enough, even in very dry years, to stave off a 
 famine. A single tree, they told me, has been 
 known to produce twenty arrohas — more than 600 
 lbs. I ate a handful once, to try to realize the feel- 
 ings of the Prodigal Son — for it is as nearly certain 
 as can be that the " husks " of the New Testament 
 were the fruit of the locust-tree — and I thought he 
 was better off than he deserved. In the Levant, 
 where these trees are common, I learnt to call them 
 locust-trees, which is a foolish misnomer founded on 
 the theory of their having been the piece de resistance 
 in St. John the Baptist's fare. All over the Penin- 
 sula the tree is called Algaroba, which is from the 
 Arabic, Kharoub, so that, after all, in our English 
 trade name of Garoh bean we have stumbled on 
 something like its true name. 
 
 Lying back on a heap of palm leaves and empty 
 sacks, with a mat stretched overhead to keep off the 
 sun, and gliding swiftly with a following wind 
 through the gorges of the Algarve mountains, I 
 came to the conclusion that there is no locomotion 
 in the world so agreeable as this boat travelling 
 through pleasant scenery : but then in such river 
 
262 . TRAVELS m PORTUGAL, 
 
 voyages it is absolutely necessary to Lave tlie stream 
 with one. 
 
 My boatmen were good-tempered, companionable 
 people, telling me all about their brothers, sisters, 
 wives, and children, and singing songs (which I could 
 not understand) in very dismal strains. They told 
 me wonderful stories of huge water-snakes, which 
 came up the river from the sea, and at night-time 
 attacked the sleeping boatmen ; and of a breed of 
 wolves in the mountains of the interior, so large that 
 one could kill and carry off a yearling heifer ! I set 
 down to the same category of fable a description 
 they gave me of a cat-like creature, known as raho- 
 longo, that lived in the woods, very fierce and strong 
 enough to kill a dog, but which, if caught young, 
 would get tame enough to follow its master about, 
 and would rid the house of rats and mice, and the 
 garden of snakes and lizards. When I expressed 
 strong doubts on this matter, they assured me it 
 was the commonest thing in the world, and if I 
 would wait till we arrived at a place called Alcoutim, 
 I should have proof positive of their having told me 
 the literal truth. What was my astonishment, on 
 returning from a stroll through the town that after- 
 noon, to see a girl near the landing-place, holding in 
 her arms an animal like a huge spotted ferret. It 
 was a genet, for which the true Portuguese name is 
 gineto, but it had every claim to its local appellation. 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 263 
 
 rahO'Iongo, or long-tail, as its tail was quite as long* 
 as its liead and body put together. The animal was 
 quite tame, and even playful, and being set on the 
 ground, no more tried to escape than a dog or cat 
 would. It allowed me to handle it, and except for 
 its not very pleasant musky smell, seemed as pretty 
 and desirable a pet as could be. 
 
 Yilla Eeal, on the sandy estuary of the Guadiana, 
 has within twenty years become of commercial im- 
 portance. At San Domingo a copper mine has long 
 been known to exist ; but as it was also known to 
 contain but a very small percentage of metallic cop- 
 per, that is, less than four parts in a hundred of ore, 
 no prudent person would meddle with it. The ore 
 is a sulphuret of copper, and contains fifty per cent 
 of sulphur. Herein lay the undetected richness of 
 the ore. An English gentleman bought the mine, 
 and the ore is largely exported to the smelters of 
 Great Britain, who extract both copper and sul- 
 phur. It is now by far the richest mine in Por- 
 tugal. The proprietor constructed a railway to 
 Pomerao on the Guadiana, eleven miles from the 
 mine, and there the ore is loaded. About six hun- 
 dred British steamers and sailing ships annually 
 enter and leave the port of Villa Eeal, where for- 
 merly a dozen coasting vessels sufficed for the 
 whole trade in tunny, sardines, and dried figs. 
 Mr. Mason is commonly said to derive £80,000 a 
 
264 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 year from this mine — a fair reward for liis skill, 
 energy, and intelligence ; and if tlie Portuguese 
 government had not made him Baron of Pomerao, 
 the moral of his history would be complete. 
 
 Anxious to escape a longer stay in the country 
 which had already given me an ague, I took a pas- 
 sage, not without difficulty and compliance with 
 endless formalities, in a Portuguese schooner bound 
 for Lisbon, and at daybreak on the following morning 
 we were dropping down with the tide to cross the 
 river bar. A fresh breeze was blowing from the 
 north-east, and our captain, showing no fear of being 
 embayed if the wind chopped, boldly made for Cape 
 St. Vincent, eighty or ninety miles to the west, 
 keeping at a distance of little more than a league 
 from land, assuring me that if he were to steer to 
 the south we should lose the wind. 
 
 We passed the prettily situated town of Tavira 
 before breakfast, and in the course of the day Faro, 
 the capital of Algarve, with its ancient castle and 
 ruined houses, and its groves of dark green trees — 
 oranges and carob trees, as far as I could make out 
 with the captain's glass. Early next morning we 
 " made"' Cape St. "Vincent, and were soon out of 
 sight of land, the wind having veered completely and 
 blowing a pleasant breeze a little north of west, and 
 we were making a " long board " to the westward. 
 It was like coming into a new world, to exchange the 
 
TRAVELS m POBTUGAR 265 
 
 hot east wind that had accompanied me since leaving 
 Juromenha for tlie breeze charged with the fresh salt 
 spray of the Atlantic. In every part of the Penin- 
 sula the east wind is detestable, and in none more so 
 than in Portugal, where, in addition to its own de- 
 merits, it comes charged with the hot, unwholesome 
 emanations of the great sandy table-lands of central 
 Spain, where reigns a climate which, though Spanish, 
 even Spaniards al3use. The air of Madrid (it is a 
 type of this climate) they say, — 
 
 " Es tan subtil 
 Que mata a un liombre y iion apaga a un candil," 
 
 — is SO treacherous that it will Icill a man and yet not 
 put a candle out ; and the Portuguese, who favour 
 neither Spaniards nor things Spanish, couple mar- 
 riages made across the frontier and the east wind 
 that comes from the land they hate, — De Espanha 
 nem horn vento nem horn casamento,'' is a proverb in 
 Portugal — " A Spanish match and a Spanish wind 
 are two bad things." 
 
 Two days in the Atlantic passed tediously, though 
 my deck cabin was comfortable and even clean — for 
 the sea, to everyone not born to it, is insufferably 
 monotonous, — and on the third day (the fourth from 
 Villa Real) we had sighted the '' Rock of Lisbon," 
 as our sailors call it, the tall, slender mass of granite 
 that stands furthest seaward of the range of the 
 
266 TEAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Cintra Hills, and whicli the Portuguese have chris- 
 tened " Roca," the distaff. We have called it the 
 Eock of Lisbon for at least three hundred years, and 
 ninety-nine people out of a hundred who hear it so 
 called never doubt that " rock " is an ignorant trans- 
 lation of Boca, and is used in its common sense of 
 cliff. To anyone who enters the Tagus the name 
 must seem singularly inappropriate, seeing that five 
 hundred other rocks, nearly as conspicuous, surround 
 it ; and it is quite possible that our early navigators, 
 who were clever at giving appropriate names, struck 
 by this curious distaff-shaped cliff, called it for 
 this very reason "the rock," which three hundred 
 years ago was the commoner English name for 
 distaff. 
 
 Leaving the '' Eock " a league or so to our 
 north, we pass through the broad bay and smooth 
 water of " Cascaes," so called from the village of 
 that name, the Brighton of Lisbon; then comes 
 the picturesque tower of Belem, standing a stone's- 
 throw out in the river ; then the long streets 
 of the Lisbon suburbs ; then the hills of the city 
 itself, the stately houses and palaces, and the hang- 
 ing gardens, and the churches, all glittering in the 
 sun, and looking bright and clean, and new and 
 regular, as a town might be expected to be that was 
 in ashes a short century ago ; — and all delightfully 
 refreshing and pleasant to look upon to one who has 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 267 
 
 been among tlie half-ruined and half- deserted towns, 
 and along the dreary plains and the barren moun- 
 tains of the southern provinces of Portugal. 
 
 Lisbon is, in some respects, the finest capital in 
 Europe, but to the mere stranger, to the tourist 
 without introductions, certainly the very dullest. 
 Among the frugal Portuguese, public amusements 
 meet with little support. No one but a native, and 
 not the best among them, would go twice to a Por- 
 tuguese bull fight, — always a very foolish and very 
 shabby exhibition, and with just that spice of wanton 
 cruelty which such exhibitions require to get the 
 support of the roughs and blackguards among the 
 population. There is almost always an opera in the 
 two chief towns, but the company is generally only 
 third or fourth-rate. The Portuguese are themselves 
 born actors, as good as the Neapolitans perhaps in 
 farce and low comedy, but they have httle originality, 
 and the vast majority of their pieces are adaptations 
 from the Prench. I should doubt if there is any 
 contemporary drama so little known or understood 
 as that of modern Portugal. To follow Portuguese 
 as spoken on the stage, and stufied with colloquial- 
 isms, local allusions, and curious idioms, requires 
 more than a mere literary acquaintance with the 
 language, and is a task within the competence of 
 but very few foreigners. 
 
268 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 It is singular that tlie Portuguese, who, taken as 
 a nation, are second to none in good sense and good 
 breeding, make audiences whose silliness and rude- 
 ness are the despair of impresarios. A paid claque, 
 in the French acceptance of the word, is not a Por- 
 tuguese institution, but there is a self-constituted 
 claque of rowdies in every audience, and these fel- 
 lows tyrannize in the most summary manner over 
 the rest of the house. Actors or actresses who 
 offend this body are seldom allowed to be heard, and 
 offence is often given, unconsciously to the actor, by 
 some act of the management, by the personal dislike 
 of some member of the claque or some quite trivial, 
 trumpery cause. Foreign performers are particu- 
 larly subjected to such attacks, and I have seen a 
 debutante vocalist, a modest, well-behaved English 
 girl (on this very ground apparently), assailed with 
 a perfect storm of disapprobation, accompanied by 
 gross personal insults, and pelted with missiles in 
 keeping with the verbal assaults, by twenty or 
 thirty young men of the shopkeeping classes,, 
 while the rest of the audience sat still, in abject 
 patience, never dreaming even of showing any 
 indignation at the proceeding, or at the loss of their 
 evening's amusement. 
 
 I once had the honour of making the acquaint- 
 ance, at the inn of a provincial town of Portugal, 
 of two distinguished members of an English troupe, 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 269 
 
 — the clown and tlie manager of a well-known 
 circus company, and tliese gentlemen gave me a 
 most curious account of the '^ manners and cus- 
 toms" of Portuguese audiences, giving me to un- 
 derstand that no audiences in Europe or America, 
 in India or the Colonies — and they had travelled 
 professionally round the world — were so hard to 
 please, so violent in their conduct, or so unfair in 
 every way to performers. 
 
 The tourist or sojourner in Portugal will not 
 have travelled far or stayed long in the country 
 before he hears a good deal of Gran Yasco, the 
 famous mythical painter of Portugal to whom 
 every good and nearly every old picture in the 
 country is ascribed, and of whose life, parentage, 
 birthplace, and handiwork, nothing but vague 
 rumour has survived. Tradition points, but by no 
 means with any satisfactory degree of certainty, to 
 the north of Portugal as the native country of Gran 
 Yasco, and to the episcopal city of Yiseu, among the 
 remote mountains of the province of Beira, as the 
 place where he was bred and where he worked. 
 The Cathedral of Yiseu, at any rate, contains several 
 pictures which by general Portuguese consent are 
 ascribed to this master. 
 
 It is not a very intelHgible circumstance that 
 Portugal, which has run her larger neighbour so close 
 
270 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 in almost everything that distinguishes a civiHzed 
 nation, whose wealth was very great during the 
 period covered by the revival and reflorescence of 
 arts and letters, whose great nobles were patrons of 
 culture of every kind, should be so poor in art work ; 
 it is not easy to understand how while Spain 
 has produced so many famous painters, Portugal 
 should have possessed absolutely none at all ; none, 
 that is, of any fame, for with the exception of the 
 above-named Gran Yasco, I can think of but two 
 Portuguese painters who deserve to rank with even 
 fourth or fifth-rate names in the great European art 
 roll. 
 
 If Gran Vasco be mythical, as some few sceptics 
 allege, it is not difficult to see how such a myth, 
 once getting birth, would be nourished into full 
 growth among the most credulous and patriotic 
 people in Europe. A great artist is wanted in the 
 Portuguese Valhalla, and Gran Yasco is welcomed : 
 'populus vult decipiy and it deceives itself into the 
 full belief that it has a Eaphael of its own. To say 
 that half-a-dozen educated Portuguese at this day 
 entertain the smallest doubt of the existence of Gran 
 Yasco is probably an exaggeration, so deeply and 
 widely does the belief in him prevail. 
 
 So often had I been tempted to go out of my 
 way to look at a masterpiece by Gran Yasco onlv to 
 find some wretched daub, so often have I had to 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 271 
 
 keep my countenance and restrain my impatience 
 while I was being lectured on tlie beauties of some 
 monstrous work of the Wardour Street school, that 
 I had long ceased either to have any faith in Gran 
 Yasco, or even to believe in the existence of a really 
 first-rate picture in the country by a native artist. 
 I therefore made the long and tedious pilgrimage to 
 Viseu rather to be able to say that I had examined 
 this painter's most famous pictures, than because I 
 expected to find them worth seeing. 
 
 Happening to be at the time in the province of 
 Traz OS Montes, I crossed the river Douro at Eegoa 
 and proceeded to Lamego, prepared to ride thence to 
 Yiseu, Lamego is the centre of an episcopal diocese, 
 and Yiseu of another, though they are but fifteen or 
 sixteen leagues asunder ; but the country between is 
 roadless, and includes three wild hill ranges and 
 three fair-sized streams, and as it so happens that no 
 single inn hes between the two cities, the traveller is 
 in consequence compelled to ride the whole distance 
 in a single day. In my case it happened to be a 
 winter's day, and the journey was performed on a 
 weak and stumbling horse hired at Lamego. Begun 
 before daylight, the last few hours were ridden in 
 the gloom of a winter's, evening, and the last of the 
 three rivers forded was crossed (it was in full flood 
 and very cold) in pitch darkness, save for and by 
 the flickering light of torches held by the family of 
 
272 TRAVELS IN FOUTUGAL. 
 
 a friendly miller. Tired, cold, and faint for want of 
 food, bitterly did I repent the misguided aesthetic 
 enthusiasm which had prompted me to travel to 
 Viseu to see pictures which I was sure would be 
 worthless, and ascribed to a painter whom I had 
 never believed in. 
 
 Early on the following morning I went to the 
 Cathedral. Passing under its lofty aisles and through 
 its dingy cloisters, we reached the Sacristy, a large 
 well-lighted chamber. What was my astonishment, 
 when after some little fumbling with the key the 
 door was thrown open, at finding myself in front of 
 one of the grandest masterpieces of the art of paint- 
 ing ! Not even before the few greatest pictures of 
 the world, not even when standing before Eaphael's 
 Madonna at Dresden, the great pictures in the Vati- 
 can, or even the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, have 
 I felt so unmistakably that I was in the presence of 
 the handiwork of a great and rare genius ; and after 
 the interval of several years I have not the slightest 
 hesitation in recording my opinion that this great 
 picture at Yiseu ranks among the six or seven 
 masterpieces of the world. 
 
 Count Raczynski, in his work on Portuguese art, 
 written some thirty years ago, had indeed, spoken 
 very handsomely of the Viseu pictures, but the 
 Count, — a lively writer, and an industrious observer 
 — is by no means a safe guide in the matter of 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 273 
 
 art,* as I Lad already had reason to discover. His 
 taste is tlie taste that found favour with his employers, 
 the Academy of Fine Arts at Berlin, some thirty or 
 forty years ago ; and these somewhat Philistine and 
 academic sympathies find little but antiquarian in- 
 terest in the art of periods which he lumps together 
 as Gothic. I had hitherto found that what Count 
 Eaczynski praised, I could not, and what he con- 
 demned I sometimes found admirable ; therefore his 
 praise of the Viseu pictures had weighed with me 
 not at all. 
 
 There are in the Cathedral, or rather within its 
 precincts, two quite distinct series of pictures — a set 
 of fourteen narrow panels (about four feet by two) 
 apparently about the date of 1500, and contained in 
 the Chapter House, and a series of later date and far 
 higher importance in the Sacristy, consisting of four 
 large panels and seven smaller ones. Among this 
 latter series is the picture which fixed my attention 
 on entering the Sacristy. The other pictures are, 
 in my opinion, one and all, so inferior in every way 
 
 * Count E-aczyiisti's book is a very curious one, and in spite of 
 tlie author's pleasant style, his diligence and research, one of the 
 most unsatisfactory that ever was wi'itten. The work consists of a 
 series of apparently hastily written letters on " Art in Portugal." 
 It is without an index or table of contents, it has no sort of 
 arrangement, and the opinions arrived at in the early letters are 
 generally abandoned in the later ones. It is a book to be begun 
 at the end and only half read through. 
 
 18 
 
274 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 to this one, that I cannot bring myself to believe 
 them to be by the same hand. 
 
 The masterpiece is a large work on panel, about 
 eight feet square, in very fair preservation, and in 
 three compartments. The central compartment 
 represents St. Peter in rich pontifical robes, sitting 
 on a throne of polished white marble, over-canopied 
 by silken-fringed hangings. The throne with its 
 draperies reaches to the top of the picture, and fill- 
 ing the archways formed by pilasters and rounded 
 arches on each side are exquisitely painted land- 
 scapes, distinct but soft and tender in tone, with 
 water, trees, bridges, castles and towns. In the one 
 is represented St. Peter walking on the waves ; in 
 the other, the saint receiving the keys of heaven 
 from our Lord.* 
 
 It is hardly possible to say too much for the 
 technique of this magnificent picture. The drawing 
 is masterly, the colour harmonies throughout are 
 marvellous ; again and again I turned to dwell on 
 the exquisite passages of green and rosy pink in the 
 narrow silken fringe of the canopy, set ofi*by the 
 cool grey-yellow of the marble. The picture is 
 clearly of the early part of the sixteenth century, 
 and shows Flemish influences very strongly. But 
 
 * As to the subject of tliis latter compartment I am not quite 
 sure that my memory serves me right. I made, I regret to say, no 
 notes either here or elsewhere in Portugal. 
 
TltAVBLS IN POBTVGAL. 275 
 
 the draperies are not marked bj the angular folds 
 and narrow "pipings" which are characteristic of 
 the earlier Flemish schools ; they fall in fine, ample 
 masses, with a truth and freedom in their drawing 
 which forcibly bring back the broad, unconventional 
 treatment of Andrea del Sarto — and yet the ela- 
 boration is such that no square quarter of an inch 
 of chasuble, tiara, or stole, but is finished with the 
 care and precision and richness of a Memling or a 
 Matsys, the countless precious stones and threads of 
 gold in the embroidered orphreys, glow with the 
 light of gems and the brightness of real gold ; and 
 yet the first and most lasting impression made by 
 the picture, is singleness of purpose and breadth ot 
 treatment. 
 
 The glory of the picture is the principal figure. 
 The painter has represented the saint in the con- 
 ventional attitude of blessing, with the two first 
 fingers of the right hand uplifted ; the left holds the 
 key and rests on an open book. The attitude is 
 simple and noble. The saint is a bearded man 
 hardly past the prime of life ; the eyes look directly 
 forward and are somewhat lifted as if to take in a 
 great crowd; the expression of the face is benign but 
 full of boldness and energy. The impressiveness of 
 this face is almost startling. It has something of 
 the force and intensity of the Eaphael portraits of 
 Julius II., but the expression is infinitely more 
 
2TG TBAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 
 
 direct, more commanding, and more noble ; it lias 
 something of the power of Michael Angelo's Moses, 
 but it has none of the pagan element which some 
 critics have found in that great statue. 
 
 Who was the painter of this grand work of art ? 
 Is this the handiwork of the great legendary painter 
 w^ho lives so persistently in Portuguese tradition ? 
 It would be pleasant to be able to think that it was. 
 I tried hard to believe it, but unfortunately the pro- 
 babilities are all the other way, and the great mass 
 of negative evidence makes the belief in a real Gran 
 Vasco wholly untenable. 
 
 A closer examination of the St. Peter leaves little 
 doubt as to the age of the picture. The manipula- 
 tion is of a particular period, and that a short one ; 
 it certainly was not painted before 1500, and it could 
 not have been painted later than 1550 ; it was the 
 work probably of about 1520. It was a period when 
 the richer lines in drapery and more flowing curves 
 of outline had been adopted from Italy. The painter 
 of this picture had, I believe, looked on the works 
 of the great Tuscan artist, but he is no imitator of 
 Michael Angelo. The proportions of the human 
 figure in the background are no longer the some- 
 what stunted proportions given by the Flemish 
 painters of the previous generation, they are here 
 precisely such as Raphael himself might have drawn ; 
 the architectonic details are of that marked Eenais- 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 277 
 
 sance period, whicli is named in Portugal *'Manoe- 
 lino," after tlie art-loving King Emmanuel, wlio died 
 in 1521. 
 
 Seeing that the technique of the picture is dis- 
 tinctly Flemish, and the somewhat free treatment 
 such as was at this period becoming common to 
 painters of this school, I should have no hesitation 
 in ascribing this picture and the others in the Cathe- 
 dral to a Flemish origin, I should have supposed it to 
 be the work of one of the many Flemings who were 
 then employed in various parts of the Peninsula, 
 but for the fact that it is difficult to imagine a man 
 of northern race painting a picture and leaving no 
 trace whatever of his foreign birth and foreign train- 
 ing. I have shown how the fine picture at Oporto 
 betrays its origin at once in the fair skin, light hair, 
 and markedly northern type of the faces ; in the un- 
 mistakable northern landscape background ; in the 
 characteristic Flemish plough and Flemish horses ; 
 and even in the weeds and flowers in the foreground, 
 several of which are not commonly to be found in 
 Portugal : — but in the Yiseu pictures there is nothing 
 of all that. The faces are distinctly southern in type, 
 and my closest research did not reveal any northern 
 characteristic whatever. 
 
 Here, then, is a dilemma; if this painting be 
 the handiwork of a Peninsular artist, it is unique in 
 possessing not the mannerism only of a certain 
 
278 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 northern scliool, but a degree of artistic sldlfulness 
 which only two or three masters of that school have 
 ever attained to ; again, if it be Flemish, how comes 
 it that it bears no internal traces of its origin. There 
 is, it seems to me, only one possible reconciliation of 
 the alternatives. The picture may be the handiwork 
 of a naturalized northerner. There is a familiar 
 case in point. The well known Pedro Campana. 
 was a native of Brussels ; he painted in the very 
 generation in which this great picture at Viseu must 
 have been painted ; he lived and worked nearly 
 all his life in Spain ; and his pictures have, to my 
 perception at least, no trace of their painter's 
 nationality, save his manipulative dexterity. Can 
 the painter of this Viseu picture have been some 
 such a Peniusularized northern painter, wha 
 retained his skill and had dropped his na- 
 tionality ? I had for a time supposed that it 
 might have been Campana himself who had 
 been at work at Viseu, but having had a sub- 
 sequent opportunity of again inspecting this 
 painter's masterpiece at Seville, I satisfied myself 
 that in spite of some resemblance in the type 
 of the head, and a certain Michael-Angeloesquo 
 force and character common to both works, 
 the workmanship of the pictures is essentially 
 dilBferent. 
 
 Count Eaczynski, who had, on his first inspection 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 270 
 
 of these pictures, arrived at the obvious conclusion 
 that they were works of the early part of the six- 
 teenth century, had this opinion quite unsettled by 
 his discovery that the registry of a birth in the year 
 1552 existed at Yiseu of " Yasco Fernandes, son of 
 Francisco Fernandes, painter." Here Avas a dis- 
 covery indeed ! '^ Eurelcaf' cried the count, "I 
 have solved the great mystery ; these pictures are 
 the work of Yasco Fernandes, the painter of Yiseu ; " 
 and who more worthy to be called the " great Yasco " 
 than the author of these wonderful works ? The 
 Portuguese have gladly accepted the Count's theory, 
 and the old mystery of Gran Yasco is for them 
 solved and explained. 
 
 Unfortunately the solution breaks down most 
 completely. The father of the -Yasco Fernandes 
 of tlie register is indeed stated to have been a 
 painter, and possibly the son may have followed 
 his father's profession ; but what proof have we 
 that he did ? Further, if the pictures were the 
 work of the son, and he was born in 1552, they 
 could not well have been painted before he was 
 twenty or thirty years of age, that is, before about 
 1590, but it is beyond all doubt that these pictures 
 were painted before 1550. Moreover, it is assumed 
 that Francisco Fernandes, the father, was a painter 
 of pictures ; but the presumption is, that a man, 
 described in the register as a painter, pinfor (in old 
 
/280 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Portuguese, paintor), was a painter indeed, but in 
 the less elevated sense of being a " painter and 
 glazier." Again, there is another hitch. In the 
 register, the supposed artist is plain Francisco Fer- 
 nandes. Now, the Portuguese are fonder of giving 
 honorary titles than any people in Europe. If a man 
 has to write to his shoemaker, he superscribes the 
 letter — " To his most Illustrious Lordship," and even 
 the little street-boys address one another as "Your 
 Worship." If the painter, Francisco Fernandes, 
 had been above the rank of a working man, he 
 would most assuredly have been described as 
 " Mestre," Master, the common designation at that 
 time of an artist. That he is not so mentioned, is, 
 in my eyes, conclusive evidence that Francisco Fer- 
 nandes was no artist at all.* 
 
 My views as to the Yiseu pictures were in the 
 somewhat vague condition that I have indicated, 
 and my mind very sceptically inclined as to Gran 
 Vasco, when I had the advantage to meet with a 
 descriptive account of these pictures from the able 
 pen of Mr. J. C. Robinson, who made a journey to 
 
 * Sere is a literal transcript of tlie entry : ilf* of course stands 
 only for Maria, " Aos xvij. dias do mes de Setembro de 1552 aiios 
 bantisei Vasi^uo fo de frco Fez. paintor e de ma Amriques suamolher 
 forao padrinhos e madrinbas Egas Yelbo e po Lopes fo de Ao do 
 Rego e E-o A<> madrinbas m* Lopes molber de Gaspar Yas e C* Pays 
 molber de Geronymo Tavares todos moradores nesta cidade e por 
 verdade asynei aquy, " Afonso Alves." 
 
TRAVELS IN POUTUGAL. 281 
 
 Viseu in the year 1866. Mr. Robinson's opinion of 
 the technical merits of the pictures is so valuable 
 and so well worth recording, that I take the liberty 
 of quoting a few sentences. *' All the Yiseu pic- 
 tures/' says Mr. Robinson, " are distinguished by a 
 remarkable gaiety and lightsomeness of colour; 
 .... a beautiful warm yellow, often in considerable 
 mass, and frequently in contrast with varied tones of 
 a fine purple brown or mulberry tint, is especially re- 
 markable in the Chapter House pictures, whilst in 
 those of the Sacristy, crimson draperies of a pecu- 
 liarly vivid, clear, lightsome ruby colour, apparently 
 produced by glazing over an under-painting of black 
 and white, will not fail to be observed. The latter 
 pictures are, on the whole, more lightsome in effect 
 than those of the earlier series ; and although they 
 are overlaid by the accumulated dirt of centuries, 
 yet, to the professional eye, accustomed to allow for 
 such merely temporary obscuration, they still gleam 
 forth like jewelled mosaics of rubies, emeralds, and 
 sapphires, in a framework of silver." 
 
 Mr. Robinson knows a great deal too much of 
 pictures not to reject Count Raczynski's theory of 
 Vasco Fernandes — the dates are enough for him; 
 but I was disappointed to find that Mr. Robinson so 
 far accepts the questionable Vasco Fernandes as to 
 believe that he was a painter of pictures, and even 
 to believe that a certain triptych for sale in Viseu, 
 
282 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 wliose central compartment is signed ** Vasco Fer- 
 nandes," is actually the work of the said Vasco !* 
 
 It was hardly to be supposed that so learned and 
 keen an art student as Mr. Robinson should leave 
 Yiseu without enunciating a new and sufficient reso- 
 lution of the Gran Vasco problem, and this he has 
 accordingly done. In the church of Santa Cruz, at 
 Coimbra, Mr. Robinson had seen the well-known 
 sixteenth century panel picture representing the 
 Pentecost. He was struck by the resemblance in 
 the manner of this picture and that of the Sacristy 
 series at Viseu. What if the same man had painted 
 both ? " The head of the Viseu St. Peter is re- 
 peated," says Mr. Robinson, '' in a St. Peter in the 
 Coimbra picture." Only one thing was wanting, 
 the name of the painter ; and here Mr. Robinson's 
 good luck was really extraordinary. Where had 
 been the eyes of all previous observers ? Here, in 
 a corner, was *' a well preserved and conspicuous 
 signature of the artist," Velasco, L. "Here then," 
 
 * More caution might have been expected of a veteran London 
 picture dealer. The triptych is a ruined work of considerable 
 merit ; but with every desire to believe in human nature, I may say 
 that never did I look upon a more questionable signature than this 
 distinctly traced Yasco Fes. I could elicit nothing definite of the 
 previous history of the picture, and until such information be freely 
 given and fully substantiated, I shall continue to believe that the 
 signature is of a later date than Count Raczynski's discovery. One 
 would expect Mr. Robinson to be the last person to be taken in by a. 
 doubtful signature. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 283 
 
 continues Mr. Robinson, witH almost excusable en- 
 tliusiasm, " we Lave, as I believe, revealed tbe real 
 name of the painter of tlie St. Peter. ... It 
 is, I tbink, evident, that M. de Eaczynski's Gran 
 Yasco in reality was this same Velasco. There is 
 something almost painful in this discovery ; but, 
 after all, this substitution of one name for another 
 is of little real moment ; the pictures remain 
 in evidence, and they reflect equal credit on the 
 country of their production, although no longer 
 enshrouded in an atmosphere of mysterious tradi- 
 tion." 
 
 Mr. Robinson, in short, had solved the mystery 
 that had endured three hundred years ; and if I 
 venture to hint that the chain of evidence is incom- 
 plete, and that some hard facts remain to be got 
 over, it is in no spirit of disrespect to Mr. Robinson, 
 who is replete with that spirit of enthusiasm which 
 is the first qualification of a discoverer. 
 
 First, as regards the picture at Coimbra, I must 
 hasten to say that, to my own observation, there is 
 no such resemblance between it and the Yiseu series 
 as would constitute a common authorship. They are 
 not, to my thinking, even pictures of the same school, 
 and the Coimbra work appears to me the later of 
 the two ; indeed, until reading Mr. Robinson's paper, 
 it had never occurred to me that any such resemblance 
 could be alleged to exist. Further, as to the name 
 
284 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 found on the Coimbra picture, would Mr. Eobinson 
 be surprised to learn tbat there is a well-known 
 Spanish painter named Luis Yelasco ? In his later 
 manner, he borrowed from the Italian artists brought 
 to the country by Phillip II. ; but in his earlier works 
 much of the harder and more precise manner of the 
 Flemish school is visible. On first seeing the picture 
 at Coimbra, conspicuously signed Velasco, L., I never 
 doubted, and still do not doubt, that it is the work 
 of this same Luis Yelasco. To any one familiar 
 with pictures in the Peninsula, it will not be neces- 
 sary to give evidence of the Christian name being 
 made, as in this case, to follow the surname. The 
 clief d'oeuvre of Velasco is at Toledo, and is well 
 known to art tourists. 
 
 Now I have a further surprise for Mr. Robinson. 
 What will he say if I tell him that Yelasco is not a 
 Portuguese name, and that it is Spanish for Vasco ? 
 Had Mr. Eobinson known this, I suspect that he 
 would have carried the solution one stage further. 
 He would assuredly have said — " It is a melancholy 
 duty that I must perform, there is something almost 
 painful in having to inform the world that ' Gran 
 Vasco ' is no Portuguese at all. It clearly should 
 be * Gran Velasco,' and Spain must get the benefit 
 of my discovery ! " 
 
 There is one more, and, if possible, a greater 
 difficulty to be encountered before a Portuguese 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 285 
 
 Gran Vasco can be accepted. Mr. Eobinson, pay- 
 ing a flying visit to Portugal, could not be expected 
 to make himself familiar with the literature or the 
 history of the country. He is clearly not aware that 
 the period to which he ascribes, correctly as I be- 
 lieve, the works of his great Portuguese painter, is 
 precisely the most glorious and also the most busy 
 literary period in Portuguese history. It was also 
 the period during which art was more patronized 
 than it ever had been before or has ever been since. 
 Moreover, in Damien de Goes, whose chronicle 
 embraces this whole period of literary and artistic 
 activity, we have an annalist of a most exemplary 
 carefulness ; nothing escapes this most tedious of 
 chroniclers, and especially nothing relating to the 
 building, or restoration, or adornment of a convent 
 or a church ; for it was in these things that King 
 Emmanuel, his master, chiefly delighted. Was such 
 an important fact as the existence of so great a 
 painter as Mr. Eobinson has imagined likely to 
 escape so keen an observer ? Why, he chronicles 
 the arrival, the departure, the board, the lodging, 
 the daily pay and the daily progress of a dozen 
 Flemish and Dutch painters ! It is dangerous to 
 assert a negative, but I have little hesitation in 
 asserting that neither in Goes, nor in any contem- 
 porary writer whatever, is there even a hint of the 
 existence of a native painter of any sort of merit or 
 
286 TEAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 eminence ; and this negative evidence in so small a 
 kingdom is surely very strong ; not conclusive, 
 indeed, for it is not in the nature of negative testi- 
 mony to be absolutely conclusive. But, curiously 
 enougb, there does happen to be evidence even 
 stronger than this — evidence of a positive kind and 
 of absolutely overwhelming weight. Every one who 
 knows anything of Portugal and its history, knows 
 that among no race has love and pride of country 
 been so strong. Never was Portuguese patriotism 
 so strong as in this very generation, and no poem 
 ever breathed so intense a fervour of patriotic en- 
 thusiasm as the " Lusiad" of Camoens. Everything 
 which could redound to the glory of his country is 
 insisted upon again and again in this great epic. 
 "In every heroic quality," says the poet, "our 
 nation is pre-eminent ; our men are more heroic 
 than other men, our women fairer than other 
 women ; in all the arts of peace and war we excel, 
 with one exception only, the art of painting ; we 
 have absolutely no painters in our country," says 
 Camoens ;* "not that our people have not in them 
 the making of artists, but because, in Portugal, 
 native painters meet with no encouragement. For 
 they get," he says, " neither fame, reward, nor 
 favour, and these are the things that nourish art." 
 Is it credible that Camoens could have written this 
 
 * " Os Lusiadas," canto viii., stanza xxxix. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 237 
 
 in the very generation in whicli the great Viseu 
 picture was painted ? 
 
 These are a few of the difiSculties in the way of 
 Mr. Eobinson, and when he has overcome these, I 
 can promise to find him as many more. A really 
 ingenious hypothesis, as this one certainly is, is a 
 thing to be thankful for, since on no other terms 
 than a controversioa of it could I have ventured so 
 fully to develop my views on the Gran Yasco myth ; 
 and if I 'have dealt somewhat severely with Mr. 
 Eobinson's views, it is with no feeling of disrespect 
 towards that gentleman, who has rendered no small 
 service to the history of art progress, but because 
 the question involved is really not one that can be 
 trifled with. No particular reproach can be ad- 
 dressed to Mr. Eobinson for having these few fatal 
 faults in his armour — an art- critic is hardly bound 
 to be " well up " in the history of such an unim- 
 portant little kingdom as Portugal, or be expected 
 to have read a difficult author like Camoens ; nor 
 perhaps can Mr. Eobinson be taken to task for fol- 
 lowing Count Eaczynski in his failure to appreciate 
 the two meanings of the word " pintor ; " but I 
 think he should have hesitated before he set down 
 Yelasco as a possible Portuguese painter. His very 
 guide, or muleteer, could have told him that Yelasco 
 and Yelasquez are Spanish for Yasco and Yasquez. 
 His blunder here is of the very sort that a man 
 
288 TRAVELS IK PORTUGAL. 
 
 ignorant of the country lie is writing about is sure 
 to fall into unav/ares. That a Portuguese should 
 paint a picture at Yiseu, and sign it Yelasco, is as if 
 Mr. John Brown should paint a picture at Rochester 
 or Ely and sign it Jean le Brun ! On the whole, 
 therefore, we must come to the conclusion that the 
 mystery of Gran Yasco is still a mystery. 
 
 It is by no means necessary to take the tedious 
 route followed by me, in order to reach Yiseu. 
 The city is well within reach of travellers. To get 
 to Yiseu from Lisbon, or Oporto, or Coimbra, is an 
 easy matter. From Mealhada, a station on the 
 Lisbon and Oporto railway, a diligence reaches 
 Yiseu in about eleven hours, and this ancient epis- 
 copal city is better off for inns than most towns of 
 its size in Portugal. 
 
 This whole district of Portugal is probably less 
 known than any portion of the kingdom, and the 
 neighbourhood of Yiseu is particularly interesting 
 in respect of buildings and of scenery. The neigh- 
 bouring towns all contain curious churches, and the 
 traveller who passes on the route chosen by me will 
 find at Tarouca a fine early Eomanesque church, 
 which I believe has never even been gazed upon by 
 ecclesiological eyes. The great central mountain 
 range of the Estrella is in full view and within easy 
 distance of Yiseu, and Lamego itself may be reached 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 289 
 
 in two days by a carriage road trending to the east- 
 ward whicli passes througli the flat country about 
 Trancoso, not an interesting town or country, 
 except as having been the site of a famous battle 
 between the first Portuguese monarch and the 
 Moors. 
 
 This portion of the great province of Beira is an 
 elevated table-land ; Viseu itself is 2000 feet above 
 the level of the sea, though the traveller, approach- 
 ing the town from either the north or the south, 
 looks down upon the roofs of the houses and the 
 turrets of the cathedral. The whole district is a 
 moorland country of sheep flocks and shepherds ; 
 and the natives, men and women, in their hooded 
 gaberdines of brown cloth — their only garment — 
 without hats, with unkempt hair and with bare legs, 
 are as wild and savage-looking a set of mountaineers 
 as I ever saw ; but they are well-mannered and well- 
 behaved. They are a taller and more robust race 
 than I had yet met with in Portugal, and ever since 
 their long- continued resistance to the Eomans under 
 their shepherd leader Yiriatus, to the time of the 
 Peninsular War, when the soldierly bearing and be- 
 haviour of the Beira regiments won praise from the 
 Duke of Wellington, the fighting qualities of these 
 mountaineers have been famous. The finest regi 
 ments in the Portuguese army are to this day re- 
 cruited in this part of Beira. 
 
 19 
 
290 TRAVELS IK PORTUGAL, 
 
 Wild as tlie inhabitants of this rugged region 
 appear to be, there is a considerable degree of cul- 
 ture about them. Few parts of Portugal have from 
 the earliest periods been so brought under ecclesi- 
 astical influence. Bishoprics, as I have shown, 
 come very close together, and in my hurried journey 
 from Lamego, I passed the remains of three different 
 conventual buildings, which I had no time to examine 
 or inquire about. These monastic influences are of 
 course now replaced by the feebler influences of the 
 parish priests ; but all travellers in Catholic coun- 
 tries know how strong and how lasting are the 
 good effects of monks on the manners, at least, of 
 the surrounding peasantry. 
 
 Like mountaineers elsewhere, the Beira men are 
 probably a race of purer blood than the dwellers in 
 the plain. Their stature and physiognomy show no 
 trace of any Moorish cross. They are not a very 
 well-featured race, but have a frank and pleasant 
 expression. Looking to this, and to the known 
 history of the Moorish conquest and occupation and 
 the Christian rcconquest, I should be inclined to 
 consider them more or less identical with the race 
 which inhabited these highlands in the second cen- 
 tury B.C., when the heroic Beira chieftain kept the 
 whole power of Rome at bay for many years. It is 
 not likely that the Beira races of men would suffer 
 any considerable deterioration from the Moorish 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 201 
 
 conquest, for it was never the practice of the Maho- 
 metan conquerors to depopulate an invaded territory. 
 They would have made use of the mountaineers, and 
 these latter would have exchanged Moorish masters 
 for Christian landlords and employers, when the land 
 was again won from the Moors in the early years cf 
 the monarchy. Later on, as manners softened, the 
 Moors were made slaves, — " to work like a Moor" 
 is still a Portuguese proverb — and victors and van- 
 quished came in time, and under certain circum- 
 stances, to mingle their blood, and we see the result 
 in the semi-Moorish inhabitants of the southern pro- 
 vinces ; but the conquest of northern Portugal was^ 
 not effected under such circumstances as these. The 
 faith feud was, when that conquest was made, still 
 bitter, and while the Moors were yet a powerful 
 nation, clemency to the conquered was a dangerous 
 virtue : we may therefore conclude that a very clean 
 sweep indeed was made of the Moorish dwellers on 
 this great Viseu table-land. 
 
 If a man could be induced to travel through such 
 ^ country as Portugal, and content himself with 
 setting down the conversation of guides and mule- 
 teers, of landlords and of chance companions ; if he 
 would avoid airing his own theories and recording 
 his own generalizations — vicious practices ! — if he 
 would make up his mind that readers are incurious 
 
292 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 beings, who desire only to have a languid interest 
 aroused — it would be not difficult for him to write 
 an interesting book of travels, at least in Portugal. 
 The Portuguese talk well ; conversation is with them 
 an art. The working classes, who have no book 
 learning, who can seldom, indeed, read or write, study 
 the art of conversation as the only form of culture 
 possible to them, and they do it very well. They 
 modulate their voices, they use incredibly long 
 words, they gesticulate with a certain grace and 
 propriety, they round their sentences beautifully ; in 
 short, they *' talk like books." In the upper and es- 
 pecially in the middle classes, where the natural talent 
 for " tall talk " is aggravated by some educational 
 advantages, conversation is often intolerably prig- 
 gish and tiresome ; but among the peasantry these 
 graces of style are more or less natural, and what 
 they say is really often well said ; so well that their 
 talk could be transferred easily and with advantage 
 to a printed page. 
 
 If it were not that readers in these days are 
 somewhat exacting, a man might do well to fol- 
 low the old recipe for travel-writing, and, ceasing 
 to cater for the fancied wants of intelligent persons, 
 give himself up unreservedly to the narrative of his 
 own personal adventures, and record the small talk 
 of the people he encounters. Be sure, he would make 
 an eminently readable book, a far more readable 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 293 
 
 one than the humble writer of these pages can pre- 
 tend to write, whose constitutional timidity makes 
 him fear to thrust his individuality too prominently 
 before his reader, and who has much too high an 
 opinion of the intellect of his readers to think they 
 would condescend to be so easily interested. 
 
 It is because the Portuguese are so friendly and 
 open-hearted a people, and so anxious to do their 
 utmost to entertain those who are thrown in contact 
 with them, that travel in Portugal, with all its draw- 
 backs, is so pleasant. It is a melancholy fact, against 
 all accepted theory on the subject, and a thing only to 
 be hinted at in a whisper, that education is a terrible 
 social disadvantage to a man. Eeading and writing 
 are, it must be confessed, great drawbacks. Mon- 
 sieur Renan, who had seen much of the ignorant 
 peasantry of Syria, notices with surprise their ex- 
 traordinary culture, their social tact, their courtesy, 
 their perfect manners. The peasantry of some parts 
 of Portugal are equally unlearned, and their social 
 education equally advanced. Their culture too, is 
 not, to use something of a bull, altogether ilhterate ; 
 they know not their letters and yet are men of letters 
 — literati illiterati, I could pick out from a certain 
 hamlet in the Minho province a dozen men who shall 
 extemporize better rhyme, and better reason too, 
 who shall know more of pause, metre, and cjBSura, 
 than any minor poet of my acquaintance. Their 
 
294 TRAVELS IN POBTUGATm 
 
 long sentences are perfectly grammatical. A Portu- 
 guese literary friend told me that the peasants round 
 Ooimbra talked quite as good Portuguese as he could 
 write, using, he said, their imperfects of the sub- 
 junctive and all the refinements of the gerund and 
 declined infinitive better than many a Master of Arts 
 in the neighbouring University. 
 
 How is this? I thought once it must bo the 
 work of social contact, and was prepared with a 
 theory. Unhindered by the pedantry of schools and 
 schoolmasters, I was ready to believe they had leisure 
 to cultivate more important things than spelling- 
 books and the rules of arithmetic, and were not 
 made to store their memories under pretence of 
 sharpening their intellects ; and this view of the 
 matter might be supported by the known boorish- 
 ness of the well-taught German peasantry, the 
 education and discourtesy of the working classes 
 in Scotland, and the absence of any sort of good 
 manners in English common rooms and convoca- 
 tions ; in all which cases there is social contact and 
 a certain amount of intellectual cultivation. But 
 this hypothesis breaks down in its turn, for let us 
 only think of the ignorance and the manners of a 
 village in the Black Country! Common rooms, 
 convocations, and Scotch peasants, are as nothing 
 to these "rude sons of toil," and learning once 
 more assumes her empire in our estimation. There- 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 295 
 
 fore I wasli my hands of theories altogether, and 
 only note the fact that people ignorant of book 
 learning have often an education that is more 
 softening than book learning, and that the book 
 learned are sometimes insufferably self-sufficient 
 prigs and pedants. 
 
 During my long day's ride from Lamego to 
 ViseUj I should have found tLe way dreary enough 
 but ror the society of chance companions. A priest 
 of a neighbouring village, hearing I was to make the 
 journey to Viseu, joined me at day-break, and kindly 
 G-uided me over the first three leao-ues of roadless 
 hills. A big, ruddy-complexioned, genial man of 
 middle age, his talk was not of '' matin, laud, and 
 compline prayer," and I doubt if his Latin carried 
 him further than the reading of his breviary and 
 mass book: His Reverence was, I was told at the 
 inn, " um grande cagador " — a famous sportsman ; 
 and much learned talk passed between us on his 
 favourite pastime. He told of waiting for vrood- 
 cock at nightfall by the edge of damp meadows, and 
 killing them by a pot shot on the ground. He told 
 me of great shooting parties of a more legitimate 
 kind, in autumn, on these heath-covered hills, where 
 twenty or thirty or more sportsmen would' walk ia 
 a line, interspersed with beaters and dogs, and get 
 excellent sport with hares and the red-legged par- 
 tridges ; great, strong coveys of which birds rose 
 
293 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 now and then at our horses' feet as if to corroborate 
 his account ; and the priest told me how sometimes 
 an outlying she- wolf with her cubs would get up 
 before the line, and then men and dogs would go 
 wild with excitement, and every gun far and near 
 would be fired off, and every cur start in pursuit ; 
 and in the enthusiasm of his description the jovial 
 priest favoured me with a Portuguese equivalent of 
 our national *'Yoicks!" that rang again in the 
 morning air. 
 
 " And the wolf," I asked, "do you ever shoot 
 it?" 
 
 ** Never ! " he said, with great positiveness. 
 
 I remembered how Portuguese sportsmen load 
 their guns, and was not surprised. A small hand- 
 ful of powder, a little grass or a leaf or two, and an 
 equal handful of shot of all sizes ; and a huge wad of 
 any available material, from wood shavings to paper, 
 is rammed down upon this terrifying charge. Well 
 do I remember the awe with which I regarded my 
 armed Portuguese companion on a certain shooting 
 expedition. K'ot till 1 had seen the gun discharged 
 and my companion still on his legs, after a mild, 
 squib-like detonation, did I understand that the 
 powder was of native manufacture, and that my 
 fears had been groundless. 
 
 " And do your dogs never catch the wolves ? " I 
 asked. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 297 
 
 " Never," said the priest, as positively as before — 
 '' never by any chance. They seem just going to, 
 for the beast never hurries itself, but," he said, 
 imitating with his hand the slow, striding gallop of 
 the wolf, ''corre, corre, e o diabo mesmo nao o 
 apanhava " — he tvould leave the devil himself behind. 
 
 This is saying a good deal for the wolfs swift- 
 ness, for these dogs are long-legged lurchers which, 
 with a good start, will often kill a hare, and before 
 which a rabbit will not live three minutes in the 
 open. 
 
 I admit that I like stories about wolves. In 
 these upland and remote parts, where sheep and 
 goats are the farmer's principal wealth, and the 
 snow often lies for weeks on the ground (we rode 
 for several hours, this JSTovember day, over fetlock- 
 deep in snow), the wolves are numerous and mis- 
 chievous, and, if the peasants are to be believed, 
 even dangerous. Talk about wolves is very com- 
 mon, and as the Portuguese animal is certainly a 
 large variety of the common wolf of Europe it 
 not a distinct species, darker in colour and fiercer 
 in character, the Portuguese wolf-tales have some 
 reasonable foundation in fact. 
 
 A noble race of wolf-dogs, dark, long-haired 
 mastiffs standing nearly thirty inches in height, is 
 bred in the great Estrella range, of which these 
 uplands are outlying spurs, and every flock is 
 
203 TRAVELS IN TORTUGAL. 
 
 guarded at niglit by one or niore of these dogs, 
 wliicli, armed witli broad, spiked collars, remain on 
 the outskirts of the flock, while the shepherds 
 sleep in their midst. Then, if the wolves steal 
 down, on some moonless night, and make a rush 
 upon the mixed flocks of sheep and goats, they 
 have to do battle with the watch dogs. Often, I 
 have been told, if the wolves are in number and 
 hungry, some very serious fighting takes place, 
 the men in the darkness and in the hurry of the 
 fight being able to take little part, but they run up 
 and lay about them with their quarter-staves, with, 
 no doubt, a very pretty running accompaniment of 
 oaths and shouts, mingled with howls and barking 
 and growling and resounding blows of the shepherds' 
 staves. And nine times out of ten, the wolves get 
 off scot free, perhaps leaving a dozen of the flock 
 half bitten to death, and the dogs limping and 
 bleeding from their wounds, for by all accounts a 
 wolPs bite is severe beyond that of any dog. 
 
 Of such a midnight medley the priest gave me a 
 most lively description. The dogs, he told me, 
 although so large and fierce, are no match for the 
 wolves, and a single wolf will kill a single dog with 
 ease. It is recorded that the smaller German 
 wolf has left indented tooth-marks on a fire-shovel 
 used as a weapon against him, and a Portuguese 
 shepherd once showed me, on the tough ashen stock 
 
• TRAVELS IN FOEIUGAL. 299 
 
 of his gun, "wliat seemed to me sucli tootli marks as 
 no dog could liave made. As to tlieir prowess 
 against liuman enemies, the priest told me — and 
 this opinion I found generally accepted in this dis- 
 trict — that a man of moderate coolness and courage, 
 armed either with a gun or wdth any cutting weapon, 
 has nothing to fear from an encounter with a wolf, 
 but that with his quarter-staff only, which every 
 shepherd carries, a man would be likely to get the 
 worst of the fight. '' The strongest man," said the 
 priest, " cannot with this weapon deal a blow that 
 will stagger a wolf." If this be the case, it speaks 
 volumes for the hardness of the wolf's head, for the 
 mountaineers are as clever in the use of the stafl: 
 as our own ancestors. It is common to see two 
 peasants, on a holiday, fencing (jogando do pao) 
 very scientifically in play, and on the only occasion 
 on which I saw the quarter-staff used in earnest, 
 one of the combatants was brought to the ground 
 by as neat a knock-down blow on the crown of the 
 head as I ever saw delivered. 
 
 In all my travels in Portugal I never saw a wolf 
 alive or dead, often as I have put myself in the way 
 of doing so, and I suspect that their numbers must 
 have diminished greatly of late years since cheap 
 Belgium and Birmingham fire-arms have flooded the 
 country. In the wolf-abounding parts it is usual for 
 the whole country-side to join in a hunt of the com- 
 
300 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 mon enemy in summer time, when the cubs are 
 young, and many are thus killed. These compul- 
 sory parish hunts, known as Montarias, were once 
 common all over the country. 
 
 To an Englishman, who has never dreamt of 
 being brought face to face with a wolf, it is curious 
 to see how the daily life of people living in wolf- 
 frequented countries is, as it were, flavoured by the 
 presence of this uncanny beast. We in Great Britain 
 may imagine what it is if we could fancy our foxes 
 paying occasional visits to our nurseries as well as 
 to our hen-roosts, and carrying off a plump baby 
 sometimes instead of a fowl or goose. I have heard 
 many a story of a wolf leaping through the cottage 
 door at dusk, and making off to the woods with the 
 first child. I do not believe in these tales, but the 
 peasants in the mountain districts do, and when the 
 mother leaves the house, she bids the children be 
 sure to keep the door shut for fear of the wolf. 
 
 In the last century wolves were very common 
 indeed in parts of Portugal where they are now 
 unknown. A long period of peace, increase of popu- 
 lation, and cheap guns, have been their destruction, 
 but it ie only within about the last fifty years that 
 these influences have been at work. In the last 
 century the delivery of wolves' heads was an inci- 
 dent of certain tenures of land, and a very common 
 form of personal service was attendance at wolf- 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 301 
 
 hunts; but, even then, their number was lessening, 
 for a trustworthy native chronicler of the last cen- 
 tury, writing of the country 100 years before, says 
 the number of wolves in those days was " a fearful 
 thing, principally on the seashores and the banks of 
 the larger streams. They devoured the flocks and 
 even the shepherds, and for this reason a Montana 
 was held every Saturday." 
 
 My companion, the priest, was riding a good 
 horse, and upon my critical admiration of it, he in- 
 sisted upon taking me out of my road to his house, 
 to show me a colt of his own breeding. The padre 
 then rode with me to the ridge beyond his village, and 
 pointed out to me my way across the mountains as 
 far as the eye could reach, and the last I saw of him 
 was his cheery face, nipped and reddened in the cold 
 north wind, and his tall, burly frame wrapped in a 
 dark blue cloak, as he waved his slouched hat to me 
 in a parting salute — a type of a certain class of 
 priest not uncommon in Portugal, and not, I think, 
 very well understood by us at home. A peasant by 
 birth, mixing on nearly equal terms with the pea- 
 sants his parishioners, and with hardly more educa- 
 tion than themselves, farming his own land, breeding 
 his own ponies, pruning his own vines, and planting 
 his own garden plot, and possessed of all a country- 
 man's taste and habits — a kind neighbour, and doing 
 his priestly duties, as I was told, with a certain 
 
302 TRAVELS IN TOTiTVGAL, 
 
 dignity and earnestness, lie was a man against 
 whom rumour could allege no scandal of an im- 
 moral life. 
 
 Such a man as this, if the standard of his life is 
 not a lofty one, can have no influence but a good 
 one ; a tolerant man and a shrewd man, he evidently 
 knew when he and his people were well off, and was 
 not to be seduced into any Ultramontane vagaries. 
 If such priests were as common in the Biscayan pro- 
 vinces as in Portugal, Don Carlos would never have 
 got a party and an army. My friend's life interests 
 were in his own parish, and he did not care to 
 enlarge them. He seldom, he told me, went to 
 Lamego or Viseu, and only once in his life had been 
 to Oporto ; he had never seen Lisbon. His interest 
 in distant parts seemed to reside in their sporting 
 capabilities, and what was sport in his eyes took a 
 sufficiently fantastic shape in mine. About Coimbra, 
 he informed me, there was excellent thrush shooting, 
 — near Oporto there vfere crows to be got. 
 
 " Crows ! " I asked, " are they game birds ? You 
 cannot eat them, can you ? " 
 
 " To be sure I can ; they are the best game in 
 the world," said the padre, " stewed in vinegar there 
 is really nothing so good ! " 
 
 The road from Viseu to Mealhada, after a descent 
 from the high lands about that city, and after passing 
 
TBAVELS FN- PORTUGAL. COS 
 
 tlirougli tlie pretty village of Saint Columha on the 
 river Bao^ whicli the Portuguese shorten into Santa 
 CcmhadaOf enters a series of rich but uninteresting 
 valleys till the heights about Busaco are reached, — 
 *' grim Busaco's iron ridge," Scott calls this famous 
 battle ground, — though how Sir Walter came to call 
 this tree- covered, rounded hill- side, set in a smiliug 
 landscape, a '^ grim iron ridge '' is difiicult to say. 
 Mealhada, near the railroad, seems to be chiefly a 
 " station town," and like all such towns everywhere, 
 is regular, ugly and uninteresting. 
 
 Here I take the rail, and proceeding by Coimbra 
 and by towns already described, reach Oporto in 
 four hours, and passing through that city, travel 
 along the road v,'hich leads due north from it, and 
 enter the pine forests vfhich reach close down to the 
 city on this side. A league brings us to the Lega 
 river, a pretty stream winding its course, willow and 
 alder margined, through rich meadows ; a tiny river, 
 hardly more than a brook indeed, yet more cele- 
 brated in poets' strains than perhaps any stream of 
 its size in Europe. Half a mile down from where 
 the road crosses is a fine fourteenth century con- 
 ventual church, and the remains of conventual 
 buildings of great interest. The place is known as 
 Lega do Balio, a corruption oi Bailia, a bailiwick or 
 commandery of the Knights of St. John of Jerusa- 
 lem, and an important capitular house of this great 
 
304 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL 
 
 Militant Order existed here, in tliis fertile valley of 
 tlie Le^a, from a very early date. 
 
 In the fifteenth century, the convent buildings 
 are described as being still in perfect repair. A 
 heavy battlemented wall surrounded an extensive 
 range of monastic buildings, — a chapel, granges, 
 threshing floors, and farm buildings; a square tower 
 of immense strength and solidity occupied one angle 
 of the inclosure. Of the ancient fortress, this tower 
 is all that now remains. It is, without any manner 
 of doubt, the work of men who lived in the first 
 hundred years after the establishment of the king- 
 dom. A grand piece of work ; — not a ruin ; for it 
 stands all in its ancient formidable integrity, and the 
 great mass of squared granite, hardly touched by 
 the tooth of time, frowns down upon the mild 
 ecclesiological tourist of to-day with all the warlike 
 dignity with which it daunted the marauding Saracen 
 of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 
 
 In 1330 Friar Stephen Yasquez Pimental, being 
 then Grand Commander of the Order, and also Prior 
 of the Monastery, began to build the church, which 
 still remains very nearly as he left it. It was finished 
 in 1336, and in that year Prior Stephen died.* The 
 
 * In May, 1336, or, as tlie fine monumental brass in the churcli 
 curiously and neatly puts it, in longs and shorts, 
 
 " Mil tercentenis et septuaginta quatei'nis 
 Hie ohiit Madio mense quasi medio ; " 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 805 
 
 building of so large an edifice in six years testifies 
 to the wealth of the Order in no slight degree. The 
 church consists of a particularly lofty central aisle 
 and two side aisles, divided by shapely columns with 
 elaborately carved grotesque capitals of high artistic 
 value. The central aisle terminates in a spacious 
 apsidal recess, very finely groined, forming a kind of 
 chancel. I look upon this church as being — apart 
 from its actual beauty — the most important in Por- 
 tugal from an ecclesiological point of view. The 
 building itself, quite apart from what the records 
 tell us, gives every evidence of being almost wholly 
 of one period, and that a short one. The wealthy 
 Order to which it belonged would have employed, 
 and clearly did employ, the highest architectural 
 talent of the period. The workmanship is indeed 
 admirable ; and a knowledge of Le9a do Balio as a 
 whole and in detail is, in my opinion, an indispen- 
 sable key to the study of Portuguese ecclesiastical 
 archgeology. 
 
 The road northward from Lega lies through the 
 
 whicli must not, however, be translated literally, for the Christian 
 era was not in general use in Portugal till about the middle of the 
 fifteenth century. Till then the Portuguese usually reckoned from 
 the conquest of the Peninsula by the Romans, B.C. 38. This fact 
 seems to be not generally known, for I have met with some very 
 curious chronological misapprehensions in accounts of Portugal. In 
 all dates on Portuguese monuments or charters before 1470 or 1480, 
 unless there is appai'ent reason against it, it is safe to deduct thirty- 
 eight years. 
 
 20 
 
306 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 vast pine woods which form so broad a zone along 
 the Portuguese sea-board. The pine of Portugal is 
 as a rule the fast- growing Finns maritima, very like 
 our own Scotch fir, and quite as ugly a tree when 
 young. In some places the more picturesque stone 
 pine is found, but it is of slower growth, and not- 
 withstanding the greater value of its timber and the 
 use as food of its filbert-like cone kernels, it is little 
 cultivated. The commoner pine grows rapidly in 
 poor soil, and fine trees are often seen with their 
 roots in mere sand. 
 
 The pine forest is in general monotonous and 
 unpicturesque, for the trees are always cut before 
 they reach to the dignity of '* two ton timber," and 
 the side branches are lopped year after year to 
 within a yard or two of the tree top. The traveller 
 passes league after league of straight- stemmed pine, 
 and wearies for the sight of a green field or a vine- 
 yard. The pine forest, too, as in other countries, is 
 silent and deserted : blackbirds, jays and magpies 
 are the only birds commonly seen or heard. Now 
 and then a wood owl flits out of the shadow of an 
 ivied tree, and the occasional tap of a woodpecker's 
 beak, or his sudden, laugh-like cry, are sounds that 
 a traveller feels to be a relief to the stillness. 
 Human beings are rarely encountered, though the 
 forest maintains its own pecuhar population. Where 
 the trees are rooted in anything but blowing sand, 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 307 
 
 gorsQ grows ; and the cutting of it once in , every 
 three years affords some profit. Gorse in Portu- 
 guese farm economy is of great value, being used for 
 the bedding of horned cattle, while the whole of the 
 straw of the farm is used for their food ; a system 
 that has many obvious advantages, and others that 
 are not so obvious. 
 
 Every now and then, in the depth of the forest, 
 a party of charcoal burners is met with, or of 
 sawyers and carpenters, who encamp in the woods, 
 fell and saw up the pines, and make the boards upon 
 the spot into doors, window-frames and boxes, that 
 are carried long distances for sale. If the forest is in 
 the neighbourhood of towns, the fallen needles and 
 cones are collected by women and children, and car- 
 ried in nets on donkey-back for sale as fuel. These 
 are the purely fores fcal industries — the only human 
 life connected with it — but this dreary desert of pine 
 wood has its oases. Wherever a brook crosses the 
 forest the scene shifts immediately, and the water- 
 course is margined by narrow fields of maize, rye 
 and wheat, or orchards of fruit trees reach on either 
 side as far as the water can be made to flow. Tho 
 stream itself is bordered with pollarded oak and 
 chestnut trees, over which vines are trained'. Tho 
 water-drops work like magic under these hot suns, 
 and the barren, dusty soil is turned by them into 
 fertile meadow land. The silence of the forest is 
 
SOS TKAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 exclianged in an instant for a concert of wood larks 
 and nightingales, and the refreshing coolness of the 
 water-laden air and the green shadow of deciduous 
 trees are positively delicious to the traveller who has 
 passed through the shadeless forest and breathed 
 the dry, over-sunned air, pungent with the peculiar 
 burnt odour which the pines give out. 
 
 In giving this account of a Portuguese pine 
 forest, I have broken my rule of not dwelling upon 
 scenery, for what I have described is typical of 
 many long, weary leagues that every wayfarer in 
 Portugal will have to travel over. 
 
 On this northward road, however, through the 
 Minho province, the forest soon begins to break into 
 fields, and the pines give place to some of the most 
 highly cultivated land in Europe ; not the most fer- 
 tile nor the most scientifically cultivated, for the soil 
 is, for the most part, a porous decomposed granite, 
 of great depth, but little natural fertility. The pro- 
 vince is densely populated, and the farmers are as a 
 rule peasant proprietors with small holdings of from 
 five to twenty acres.* 
 
 The system of farming is by no means unsuited 
 to a country where land is scarce and dear, and 
 labour plentiful and cheap, — a hilly country, full of 
 
 * Holding, as I have before explained, by tlie Emphyteutic 
 tenure, which has got in process of time to be nearly equivalent to 
 our English tenure by copyhold. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 309 
 
 streams, springs and water runlets, and where water 
 is the chief source of fertility. 
 
 My way northward lay through Barcellos, a 
 charming type of an old Portuguese town. The 
 river Cavado is here crossed by an ivy-clothed, 
 mediaeval bridge with massive arch-piers of immense 
 solidity, and it is singular in this respect, that the 
 water is dammed at the bridge itself and falls in a 
 broad cascade which is used to turn the wheels of 
 several water mills, each of which nestles pic- 
 turesquely at the foot of the piers. 
 
 The town is built on rocky land which rises 
 abruptly from the water's edge, and the grey ruins 
 of a massive stronghold of fourteenth century work 
 face the approach by the bridge. It is a town for an 
 artist or an antiquarian to linger in, and wilHngly 
 would I detain the reader among the Gothic churches 
 and the remains of curious mediaeval domestic archi- 
 tecture; but my space is drawing to a close, and a 
 writer may do worse than remember that agreeable 
 writing does not always make pleasant reading. 
 
 So I pass on through the streets of Barcellos to 
 stop before an open doorway whence proceed sounds 
 of a curious rhythmic chaunt, a refrain of childish 
 voices, which brings to my memory jumbled asso- 
 ciations of Sunday-school children in England, and 
 of schools of shrill-voiced children in far-off Eastern 
 countries ; and the latter association prevails, as I 
 
310 TRAVELS IN rOBTUGAL. 
 
 walk in and see some thirty dark-skinned and 
 bright-eyed children of from four to nine sitting 
 cross-legged on the ground, exactly as I had seen a 
 party of little Mahometans in Cairo or Damascus, all 
 repeating at the . dictation of a teacher, in a loud, 
 rhythmic, sing-song tone, a sentence which, after 
 some trouble, I made out to be part of a poetic 
 version of the multiplication table. The whole thirty 
 swung their bodies forward at the end of each verse, 
 exactly as I have seen Eastern children do. The 
 same monotonous, howling chaunt, the same cross- 
 legged attitude, the same antiphonal mode of teach- 
 ing, the solo part taken by the teacher and the 
 repetition in the shrill voices of the children, were 
 common to the Christian and the Mahometan school 
 children. The children appeared to like it, their 
 attention did not seem to flag, but then it was diffi- 
 cult to say how much of it was engaged ; half their 
 eyes were shut. 
 
 A young priest was teaching. An elderly one,, 
 with white hair and a benevolent expression of face, 
 sat by. I bowed to him ; he returned my salute and 
 requested me to be covered. I told him I was a 
 traveller, and was desirous of seeing a Portuguese 
 school. He begged me to be seated. 
 
 He told me of their mode of education; it wa& 
 an appeal, he said, chiefly to the memory — too much 
 so it seemed to me, with my narrow British and 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 311 
 
 Protestant prejudices. "First," said the priest, 
 " they have to learn facts ; reasoning comes after- 
 wards." The position is a strong one, and I never 
 argue with a courteous host. " What do they know?" 
 I said, pointing to a row of the eldest. 
 
 *' They can read," he said, " they understand 
 geography, they can cipher, and they have the doc- 
 trines of our Holy Church at their fingers' ends." 
 
 " It says a great deal for the system," I said. 
 
 " Would you like to see for yourself? " 
 
 I thought he was going to use the established 
 formula — would I take a class ? Perhaps he was, 
 and perhaps, seeing me visibly shrink from the pro- 
 position, he refrained. 
 
 He beckoned to a pretty little girl of eight, sitting 
 at the end of the front row. She came up, putting 
 her head on one side, her finger in the corner of 
 her mouth, and stood before us. The benevolent 
 priest patted her on the head. " This gentleman is 
 going to ask you some questions," he said. 
 
 My mind suddenly became a blank. I did not 
 know where to begin. There came into my head a 
 story of a school inspector, or some equally formid- 
 able person, asking under similar circumstances, a 
 little school girl, '' When the dove returned to the arlc 
 the second timey what did it bring hack .?" and being 
 entirely puzzled and thrown off his balance by the 
 unhesitating answer, "Adam, sir!** the child having 
 
S12 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 by some utterly inscrutable mental process fislied up 
 our first parent from tlie depths of her childish 
 puzzle-headedness. 
 
 I was afraid of being brought to shame by some 
 similar childish vagary, and beyond eliciting from 
 her that her name was Zefinha, which is childish for 
 Josepha, and that she was eight years old, I did not 
 venture further to explore her mental resources. 
 Arithmetic is not a favourite subject with me, school 
 theology is a dangerous one, and Mr. Forster himself 
 might have hesitated to commit himself before a 
 schoolful of sharp-witted foreign children and a 
 couple of critical Catholic priests. I begged the 
 priest to question her for me. 
 
 I am sorry to say that she broke down shame- 
 fully. With an unblushing and smiling face she 
 made the most fearful havoc with the multiplication 
 table, and failed so completely in her divinity that 
 finally the priest and I and the child herself had to 
 give way to our feelings, and laughed out fairly and 
 loudly ; and when he had recovered a little of his 
 gravity, the good priest shook his forefinger in mock 
 anger at Zefinha and sent the interesting little idiot 
 back to her seat on the floor. 
 
 " What, after all, Senhor Padre," said I, using 
 a broad and consolatory form of philosophy, " what, 
 after all, is the value of earthly learning ? " 
 
 The priest pursed his mouth together, screwed 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 3113 
 
 his ejes up a little, and slowly nodded his head 
 several times in token of assent. 
 
 *' That little girl clearly knows too much/* I 
 said. 
 
 The priest again assented. 
 
 *' As she grows up," I pursued, " she will begin 
 to forget a little of what you have taught her ; her 
 facts will arrange themselves; she will no longer 
 mix up her arithmetic with her theology, she will 
 separate her geography from her grammar — just as 
 —as " 
 
 " Just as a farmer separates his kidney beans 
 from his maize on the threshing floor," said the 
 priest, pleasantly, and offering me his open snuff- 
 box. 
 
 *' Poor child!" I said; ''one cannot expect 
 reason from her." 
 
 " No, indeed !" said the priest; ''how can any 
 one expect reason from the poor little creatures ? 
 That is not our system at all. We make them say a 
 thing a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times, 
 bawling it out, as you heard, at the top of their 
 voices, and then they know it." 
 
 " Yes," said I, "and believe it." 
 
 "Of course," said the kindly priest, "and be- 
 lieve it too." 
 
 T have said, almost at the beginning of these 
 
814 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Travels, how tlic farm system of this northern 
 corner of Portugal seemed to me to be more 
 completely after the old Roman type than that of 
 any other country of Europe, even Italy; and now, 
 visiting the province again after an interval, and 
 after seeing the other provinces of the kingdom east 
 and south of it, it strikes me with more force than 
 ever how close is this resemblance between the 
 Minhote and the old Italian husbandry, and how 
 exactly the ancient traditions have been handed 
 down. The field instruments of modern Portugal 
 in shape and often in name are Eoman : the arado 
 is the single stilted -plough (aratrum) formed of a 
 crooked bough ; the sickle, fauce, the Latin falx ; 
 the carro, the solid-wheeled cart with wicker-work 
 sides, is called after the Latin carrus, but is equiva- 
 lent to the 'Romsiii plaustrum; the lighter hoe is sacJio, 
 from the Latin sarculus ; grade, a harrow, is, no 
 doubt, the Latin crates; and plough, cart, sickle, 
 hoe and harrow do not merely resemble the old 
 Eoman instruments, but are absolutely identical 
 with those which are represented on the medals and 
 bas-reliefs of ancient Rome. 
 
 The introduction, in the sixteenth century, of 
 maize as a cereal crop might be supposed to have 
 interfered with the old farming traditions, but it has 
 done so only to a small extent. The Portuguese 
 called the New World corn millio, after the millet 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. S15 
 
 {millium) which they already possessed, whose tall 
 growth it somewhat resembles, and sowed it, hoed 
 it, and irrigated it as they had been accustomed to 
 do with millet. 
 
 It is not, however, in such matters as the forms 
 of tools, which are preserved in all countries through 
 long generations, nor in their names, which are 
 still less likely to suffer alteration, that the ancient 
 masters of the Portuguese have left the strongest 
 evidence of the lessons first taught by them. 
 These are matters that the most hasty and cursory 
 tourist can discover for himself; it is in the inner 
 life of the farm that the old traditions are most 
 faithfully preserved. 
 
 Columella tells us that for a farm of a little over 
 a hundred acres, two yoke of oxen and two drivers 
 to each, and six labourers for general cultivation, 
 were enough ; if there was much underwood, two 
 more men were wanted. This is, indeed, a low 
 estimate where wine and maize are grown, and 
 where hoeing and constant irrigation are required, 
 but in the hilly rye-lands of Portugal, with flocks of 
 sheep and grazing land, it is a fair estimate. On the 
 great upland plain of Chaves, a farmer whom I 
 asked about the stock and labour for a hundred acre 
 farm, answered me almost in the words I have 
 quoted. To be sure, both the Portuguese and the 
 Peninsular Roman had a very low standard of farm- 
 
316 TRAVELS IN POItTUGAL. 
 
 ing. and the land in modern Portugal is but lialf 
 farmed, as it must have been in Iberia and ancient 
 Italy. 
 
 Then again, there is the wine making. In a recent 
 number of a contemporary magazine,^^ Mr. Matthew 
 Freke Turner has told us how the Homan farmers 
 made their commoner wines — their vin ordinaire — and 
 the process is identical with that followed in this pro- 
 vince. The vine is grown as a climber on pollarded 
 trees, as the vines of Latium and the Campania 
 were grown : the Minho province is near the sea, as 
 those districts were : the vines are pruned exactly as 
 they were pruned in Central Italy, the latitude is the 
 same, and the varieties of the vine perhaps even iden- 
 tical. Anyone therefore who has tasted the famous 
 mnho verde of northern Portugal — the thick, red, sour 
 and astringent wine which the Minhotes delight in 
 — may satisfy himself that he has drunk a liquid iden- 
 tical in every way with that wherewith the Latian 
 farmer quenched his thirst two thousand years ago. 
 He may even plea se himself by thinking that Horace 
 himself on his Tusculan farm, in daily life, when the 
 jars of Csecuban, Alban and Falernian were left 
 undisturbed in the cellar, drank such a wine as this. 
 The scholar or the antiquarian, who is too dry-souled 
 to amuse himself with such a mere sentiment, may 
 
 * "Wine and "Wine Merchants," in the New Quarterly 
 Magazine for April, 1874. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 317 
 
 yet drink a glass of the vinlio verde and understand 
 for ever after that which has always been a puzzle 
 to students of antiquity, namely, how it was that the 
 Greeks and Romans could bring themselves to dilute 
 their wines with sea water, to mix them with honey 
 or spices, or even to grate goat's-milk cheese into 
 the wine cup. No stranger who has drunk a full 
 draught of this really awful Minho wine but might 
 sigh for even such adulterations as these. 
 
 It is curious, too, as further evidence of the long 
 and faithful tradition of farm economy, that these 
 northern Portuguese farmers deal with the drinking 
 of the wine (they mostly keep it for farm use) just 
 as their first masters in agriculture did before them. 
 '' Let the labourers," says the frugal Cato, " drink 
 up the Zora," the thin stuff made by adding water to 
 the already pressed grapes and treading out a thin 
 and make-shift kind of wine therefrom. " Let them 
 drink up the lora,'' he says, " in the three months 
 that follow the vintage." The Portuguese call this 
 stuff agua pe — foot water — and likewise consume it 
 in early winter. After Christmas, Portuguese far- 
 mers follow Gate's precept, and let their men have a 
 small measure of real wine daily. In the spring, the 
 quantity was doubled in ancient Italy, and is doubled 
 in modern Portugal. In the long summer days, the 
 portion is trebled for the Minhote, as Cato prescribes ; 
 and, calculating the ancient measure as well as we 
 
318 TRAVELS IN POItTUGAL, 
 
 are able, tlie allowance would reach three or four 
 gallons a month the year through. It is quite 
 as great on a well managed Portuguese farm to this 
 day. 
 
 Let the fact be observed, and let the reader draw 
 from it what deduction he pleases, that this Portu- 
 guese wine is probably about three times as strong 
 as ordinary English beer, and yet that drunkenness 
 is very rare. 
 
 To our nicer palates it is a terrible drink, one 
 that rasps a man s throat, fills his eyes with tears, 
 and almost takes his breath away; but to the 
 Minhote labourer, in the heat and burden of his 
 long day's work, it is clearly delicious. It is meat 
 and drink to him. He finds refreshment in its 
 acidity, he is fortified by its austerity, revived by 
 its strength, and finds in its oenanthic, etherous 
 essences — beyond the reach of chemists and pro- 
 fessors — some subtle distillation of Nature's labora- 
 tory kindly to hfe. 
 
 Often in travelling along the dusty highway 
 have I watched a group of sunburnt peasants, 
 lying under the shade of a vine-trellis or a cork- 
 tree, taking their afternoon merenda — a sort of 
 five o'clock tea, if the bull may be used — ^when 
 they rest for a quarter of an hour — a tiny slice 
 of repose out of their thirteen or fourteen hours 
 of continuous labour— eating a handful of olives 
 
TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 319 
 
 and a crust of black bread ; and pleasant it is to 
 see these hard-working, civil-spoken men, jaded 
 with honest toil, take a long, sweet pull from the 
 wine jar, and to watch how the wine god enters 
 into them, restores their spirits, and renews their 
 strength. 
 
 I am now within a few leagues of the northern 
 boundary of the kingdom, and of the road which I 
 travelled over in mj first chapter. Braga, the archi- 
 episcopal city, and Guimaraens, the famous seat of 
 government of the early kings, I leave undescribed, 
 though they lie in the country between where I now 
 stand, and the northern frontier. I need say 
 nothing about them, for they are well known cities, 
 tourist-haunted, and described by worthier pens 
 than mine. 
 
 There now remain but a very few lines to write 
 of these Travels, and I cannot fill them better than 
 by summarizing the experience I have gained of the 
 Portuguese as a people. 
 
 Unless a man have denationalized himself, and 
 parted with all the prejudices that his birth and 
 breeding have made part of his nature — and I can 
 claim to have made my observations from no such 
 philosophic standpoint — unless he have become a 
 thorough citizen of the world, all foreigners will 
 seem to him to fall short whenever they differ from 
 
320 TBAVEL8 IN FOBTUGAL. 
 
 tlift standard wticli he has got to set up. In follow- 
 ing me the reader will have had evidence enough 
 that I am not unbiassed by the prejudices of a 
 thorough-going Englishman, and in his wisdom he 
 will have made due allowances accordingly. 
 Moreover, he will remember that the fatigues, 
 the delays, the many small worries of travel, 
 are sore trials to the temper, and that a man 
 is never so little of a philosopher as when he is on 
 a journey. 
 
 I have found plenty to criticise in some phases 
 of the Portuguese character, and I have perhaps 
 too much followed the humour of the day in being 
 over scant of approbation. Nevertheless, writing 
 now calmly and at a distance of time and place, and 
 summing up the character of a people whom I may 
 claim to have studied carefully, I can find little but 
 good to say of them. The heart of the nation is a 
 sound, honest heart. Portugal is essentially an 
 agricultural country, and in the country districts a 
 fairly high standard of honesty and morality prevails. 
 If this standard is not so universally reached in the 
 towns, it is rather the inferior tradesmen and the 
 loafers in the streets who fail to have quite per- 
 suaded themselves that *' honesty is a good pohcy." 
 Among such people to say of a man that he is " muita 
 fino,** very sharp, is high praise, and the expression 
 comprises some very sharp practice indeed. I should 
 
TRAVELS m POUTUGAL. 821 
 
 say that tlie morality of such people was of about 
 the looseness of that of betting men of the lower class 
 at home — not very outrageously bad, but morahty 
 that will not bear too close a scrutiny. 
 
 On the other hand, to say of a countryman that 
 he is a "^e de hoi" is to pay him the greatest of 
 compliments. Literally "an ox-foot," it of course 
 means that he is a steady, true man, slow to make a 
 promise, but sure to keep it. These two proverbial 
 phrases tell their own story. 
 
 In Portugal the highest classes and the lowest 
 classes are the most agreeable in every way to have 
 to do with. The very highest class in a country 
 which is almost purely agricultural is, of course, a 
 class of country gentlemen. Countrymen by birth, 
 by breeding, and in heart, they are for the most part 
 men of the world who have rubbed off the uncouth- 
 ness of country breeding. From this rank come 
 many of the foremost politicians, merchants, and 
 financiers of the country ; and the high standard of 
 honour and the educated manner which are charac- 
 teristic of such a class everywhere, reach a long way 
 down in Portugal. To be sure, the morality is a 
 little diluted, as the social scale is descended; but of 
 this I have perhaps already said enough. This class 
 is a small one, and the black sheep in it are, after all, 
 rare exceptions. 
 
 Of the working men, in town and country, it is 
 
 21 
 
322 TBAVELS IN POBTTIGAL, 
 
 difficult to speak too highly. Sober, hai^d- workings 
 well-mannered, frugal, light-hearted and law-abiding,, 
 the Portngiiese peasant and the Portuguese work- 
 man make a class of citizens of whom any country 
 might well be proud. 
 
 This, then, is the result of my observation of this 
 small and, of late years, little noticed people. The 
 geographical position of the kingdom, with the finest 
 natural harbour on the whole western shores of the- 
 continent, its long independence under difficult cir- 
 cumstances, its nearness to our own coasts, the part 
 it has taken with ourselves in great historical 
 emergencies, the successful working in the country 
 of a representative government not unlike our 
 own — all these things make Portugal a country 
 deeply interesting to the people of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 To us Portugal is, and always has been, an im- 
 portant part of Europe. The nation, small as it is, 
 is not without potentiality of influence in European 
 affairs. The individual Portuguese is perhaps not 
 a braver man than the individual Spaniard, but he 
 is less of a gasconader; he is more capable of 
 loyalty ; he is more susceptible of discipline ; an 
 army of Portuguese is an admirable army. It is 
 well known how Wellington was inclined at first to 
 rate the Spanish troops much higher than his 
 Portuguese alHes, and how soon he found out his 
 
TEAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 323 
 
 mistake ; well fed, well led and well disciplined, 
 they became, in the Duke's own words, " the fight- 
 ing cocks of the Peninsular army ; '* he ranked 
 them next only to British troops. 
 
 These facts should not be forgotten. This nation 
 is our natural ally ; the vigour, the self-respect and 
 that peculiar sturdiness of temper which we pride 
 ourselves upon, are also Portuguese characteristics. 
 The nation is one friendly to ourselves, and whoso 
 interests in this continent are our interests, whose 
 enemies in a great war are quite certain to be our 
 enemies, and who have left their own indelible mark 
 on the page of history by virtue of some great and 
 rare qualities, which happen to be those very qua- 
 lities which have made of ourselves a great and 
 famous nation. 
 
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 
 
 Reasons for Writing a Supplementary Chapter — Influence of the 
 Moon in Portugal — The Planting of Cabbages — Spade and Hoe 
 Cultivation — Women's WorJc — Superstitious Notions — The Fat- 
 tening of Pigs — The Priests' Influence — Non-Secular Education-^ 
 Cheap Substitute for Newspapers — Hints to Tourists — Climate — 
 Language — Anecdote — Philistinism — Anecdote — Manners and 
 Morals — Management of Forests and Orchards — A Secret in 
 Forestal Science — Flower Gardens — A Problem in Agriculture — 
 Farm System of Portugal. 
 
 The occasion of my writing this last and Supple- 
 mentary Chapter was the allegation made by several 
 critics in the public press who, having reviewed in 
 no unfriendly spirit the previous portions of these 
 Travels as they appeared in periodical issues of The 
 K'ew Quarterly Magazine, complained that although 
 I bad written fully of the " manners, customs, dress, 
 architecture, painting, land tenure, government and 
 so forth," of a little- visited country, I had failed 
 not only to give any hints for the guidance of future 
 travellers, but, further, that I had not *' reported any 
 facts of substantial practical utility." " Is there 
 nothing," one of my critics asked, '* in the ways of a 
 people whom our author describes as thrifty and in- 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, ' 325 
 
 genious, whicli could be turned to advantage by the 
 great mass of our own countrymen ? " The same 
 writer asked me, with somewhat greater severity 
 (after certain complimentary remarks which I re- 
 frain from quoting) what, " beyond mere amusement 
 and a sort of aesthetic literary interest, is to be got 
 out of what Mr. Latouche has written ? " 
 
 The good sense and justice of these criticisms 
 struck me, and I lost no time in stringing together 
 as many hard and practical facts concerning Portu- 
 guese ways of life as I could bring to my recollection, 
 setting them forth so seriously and so plainly that I 
 am sure no critic whatever, be he ever so una3sthetic 
 and anxious for solid information, will have occa- 
 sion to quarrel with me any more. 
 
 The Portuguese are a shrewd people and an acute 
 people ; they love to look into the nature of things 
 that concern their daily life. They will reason 
 soundly, and (when they can forget the influence of 
 the moon) to good purpose, not indeed on such 
 themes as — 
 
 " Providence, foreknowledge, will and fate/* 
 
 but on those lesser and yet not unimportant laws of 
 Nature which concern the planting of cabbages, the 
 fattening of pigs, the curing of bacon, wine-making, 
 farming and the domestic treatment of diseases. 
 It is not to be expected that a true-born English- 
 
320 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 man, strong in his many wholesome convictions and 
 prejudices, should admit for a moment that in any 
 one of these matters he has anything to learn from a 
 Portuguese ; but he may be instructed by the blun- 
 ders of the foreigners, and now and then he can take 
 note that there are sometimes two ways of doing 
 the same thing, and that it is just possible that the 
 English way may not be the best. I will illustrate 
 these two propositions by the above-mentioned 
 simple operation of planting cabbages. Our gar- 
 deners plant them with a spade, the Portuguese 
 with a strong, broad-bladed hoe. Now, it is a de- 
 monstrable fact that while the spade plants two 
 cabbages, the hoe, stirring the soil as deeply and as 
 effectually, and distributing the manure more deftly, 
 will plant three. The same comparison applies to 
 potato planting ; and an English civil engineer in 
 Portugal once gave it to me as his opinion that the 
 hoe as a navigator's tool (supplemented by a basket 
 carried on the head) was in some respects superior 
 to the spade — or rather to the pick and shovel of 
 the English navvy. The pick, shovel and barrow, 
 in the hands of a strong navvy, were certainly, he 
 said, the most efficient means of doing navigator's 
 work, but where the best male labour was not pro- 
 curable in sufficient quantity, it was found that the 
 cheaper labour of women, and even of children, with 
 hoe and basket, was very efficient. 
 
TEAVELB IN PORTUGAL. 327 
 
 I will observe, in passing, and as a small con- 
 tribution to the great '^Woman's Work" contro- 
 versy, that in rural Portugal the women work as 
 hard in the fields as the men, both sexes beginning 
 as mere children ; and further, that in health and 
 ;a generally buxom, contented appearance, the pea- 
 sant women of Portugal compare favourably with 
 peasant women the world over. No representative 
 exists in Portugal of the pale, care-worn, slatternly 
 labourer's wife of our English cottages ; she is re- 
 placed by a cheerful, robust, sunburnt, gaily-dressed 
 woman, who on festivals wears from ^ve pounds to 
 twenty or thirty pound's worth of gold jewelry 
 round her neck and in her ears. 
 
 To return to the planting of cabbages : — if the 
 Portuguese gain by planting them better and more 
 quickly than we can, they lose by failing to under- 
 stand that, the plant dwindles if it is grown cour 
 tinuously in the same plot of ground, and, so planted, 
 only thrives at all by being preposterously manured. 
 In this matter, then, we may learn from the Portu- 
 guese to plant our cabbages more quickly, and if we 
 do not choose therein to better our ways, we can at 
 least be thoroughly confirmed in our own wisdom, 
 which teaches us never to plant them two years run- 
 ning in the same ground. 
 
 There is another matter in which our good sense 
 is not very particularly apparent, and is yet far above 
 
328 TRAVELS IN POBTUOAL. 
 
 that of the natives of Portugal. In remote parts oi 
 Great Britain certain mischievous superstitions still 
 lurk, and in districts of our native land not remote, 
 the moon still governs the actions of men. Belief 
 in witchcraft and similar folly is continually cropping 
 up at home, but it is as nothing to the similar cre- 
 dulity that is prevalent in Portugal. If a man were 
 minded to write a paper on the folly of superstition, 
 — on superstition as a hindrance to human welfare — 
 nowhere could he do so with greater ease and profit 
 than in this small kingdom. All manner of innocent 
 and of nasty plants are thought to be sovereign in 
 various diseases, if only they are culled at some par- 
 ticular age of the moon, carried in a particular man- 
 ner by a church door, or even laid for an instant ou 
 the altar. An ox or a sheep dying of active inflam- 
 mation, poisoned by yew leaves, or henbane, or fox- 
 glove, has an incantation muttered over it, is 
 drenched with a decoction of some generally 
 innocuous but sometimes hurtful herb, and often 
 gets no other treatment whatever. 
 
 The credulity that prevails in rural Portugal 
 respecting the ways of birds and beasts is marvel- 
 ]ous,-^an ignorance which the people might be sup- 
 posed able to correct by common observation. Their 
 strange distortion of facts quite within every- day 
 knowledge governs their practice, and is found—best 
 proof of its acceptance — in their very proverbs. 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL, 329 
 
 The common people express sudden, rapid and com- 
 plete action by a proverb wbich implies tbat it is tbe 
 habit of the weazel, on occasion, to jump down the 
 throat of the toad ! The screech owl haunts grave- 
 yards in Portugal, and digs up the bodies of the 
 dead ; not content with which, this bird acts the 
 same ghoul-like part towards newly- sown peas and 
 beans. The hedgehog sucks the milch cows, as 
 with us at home, and I have been told that snakes 
 and the larger lizards do the same by goats and 
 ewes. The wehr-wolf belief is almost universal in 
 northern and western Portugal, and the existence 
 of witches and warlocks and revenants of every 
 kind is established on evidence more than sufficient 
 to convince Mr. Wallace of spiritualistic celebrity. 
 
 Such innocent superstitions, as these, however, 
 amuse the people, and do them, so far as I can tell, 
 no material harm. The actual damage to their in- 
 terests is inflicted in a much more prosaic manner, 
 and a statistician might profitably employ himself in 
 calculating the actual money loss sufiered by a nation 
 which allows itself to be ruled by the moon rather 
 than by its own senses. To take one instance ; — the 
 market gardeners and farmers near the two principal 
 seaports of Portugal grow quantities of the large and 
 valuable onions which are exported to many Euro- 
 pean countries. The climate, together with very 
 careful and skilful cultivation, brings these onions to 
 
330 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 a size and flavour not to be obtained elsewhere. As 
 may be supposed, the crop is a precarious one at best. 
 The seed is sown in about October, and the young 
 onions transplanted in the following April. Now, 
 every farmer or gardener would see the paramount 
 importance of choosing moist , warm, and showery 
 weather to sow the seed. Not so the Portuguese : 
 he will let the most favourable weather pass if the 
 phase of the moon be not favourable as well, and 
 will sow in a frost or an east wind if only his 
 almanack bids him. It is quite certain that this 
 stupidity is sometimes equivalent to the loss of more 
 than half of this important crop. 
 
 To take another instance from rural domestic 
 life : — ^With an agricultural population, pig-fattening 
 is necessarily an important matter. No Portuguese, 
 high or low, rich or poor, old or young, is, I am in- 
 clined to believe, quite happy who does not possess 
 a pig in process of fattening. Autumn comes 
 round, the pigs get fatter, but not rapidly. The 
 breeds of Yorkshire and Berkshire are unknown; 
 the Portuguese animal has the length of leg, the 
 leanness, and nearly the speed of the English 
 greyhound. He will not be hurried into present- 
 able bacon ; his fattening is a slow and precarious 
 process. Nevertheless, fat or lean, the last new 
 moon before the winter quarter must be fatal to 
 him. A fortnight more might make a respectable 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 881 
 
 "Martinmas pig " of him ; but the popular belief is 
 that if he is not killed before the hunter's moon has 
 waned, salt will not pickle him, nor wood-smoke 
 cure him. It would be curious to speculate how 
 much the nation loses every year through this super- 
 stition alone. 
 
 I have not, in the course of these Travels, had 
 occasion to say much of the religion of the country. 
 In ninety-nine rural parishes out of a hundred the 
 priest is the best informed and most rational man in 
 it, and, as a general rule, gives no countenance to 
 such " old wives' tales " as I have mentioned above. 
 It is not necessary, however, to go to Portugal to 
 learn how even a slight superiority of education 
 removes a man in some sort from the sympathies of 
 his fellow men, and lessens his influence for good or 
 evil. The most reasonable of priests can make little 
 head against a parish full of superstitions. It is not 
 the clergy who are to be blamed, but, as I believe, 
 the system of education. Without presuming to 
 enter into a comparison of religions, or venturing 
 too far into a most dangerous question, it may at 
 least be asked whether it be good for any people that 
 its school teaching should be so entirely non-secular 
 as that of most Roman Catholic countries, and that 
 the purely literary element in the " reading " of the 
 rural classes should be scrutinized and hindered by 
 the priests of a religion jealous of intellectual 
 
332 TBAVEL8 IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 enliglitenment in its mildest form. This I put 
 modestly as a question ; but what I do think past 
 being considered as a question, and as being a very 
 unquestionable and deplorable fact is that, chiefly in 
 consequence of this clerical education and clerical 
 scrutiny, it should come to be that a traveller should 
 never by any chance find in the hands either of 
 yeoman-farmer or peasant any non-religious book 
 whatever, always excepting almanacks, in comparison 
 with which, that of the late Zadkiel would appear a 
 sober astronomical treatise. The rural population 
 is the backbone of the kingdom, and it is a real mis- 
 fortune for the country that it should be destitute of 
 any sort of literature. It is said that when an 
 American farmer emigrates westward beyond the 
 reach of posts and railways, there will be found in 
 his log-house, nine times out of ten, besides his 
 Bible, a ]\Jilton or a Shakespeare or, at the very 
 least, a stout " Encyclopaedia of Domestic Economy." 
 A man would have to travel long through Portugal 
 to find anything equivalent to such a library as this 
 in a Portuguese homestead. 
 
 It is one of the chief objects of foreign travel to 
 stimulate the traveller to bring the results of his ob- 
 servations to bear upon the solution of political and 
 social problems in his own country, and everyone 
 knows how the critical tourist may stumble, when 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 833 
 
 he least expects it, upon food for most valuable 
 reflection and generalization. 
 
 The Portuguese are, as I have already said, in re- 
 gard to a national press, very much what we were a 
 hundred and fifty years ago. The immense develop- 
 ment of journalism in our own country is, no doubt, 
 fully appreciated by us in most of its phases ; but 
 has it quite come home to all of us that it is one 
 of the consequences of our possession of that 
 priceless boon, a free and cheap press, that we 
 have the wherewithal to light our domestic fires ? 
 Not only are the law reports and the police news 
 and the proceedings of Parliament disseminated, 
 but an admirable, cheap, and, in fact, an indis- 
 pensable fuel is equally distributed among the 
 public. In Portugal, this is not so. A taste for 
 reading is rare, newspapers are scarce and small, 
 and the people do not possess this easy mode of 
 rekindling the fires on their kitchen hearths. Under 
 these circumstances, what do they do ? They grow 
 a plant called carqueja — a sort of broom — they dry 
 it in the sun, and it is then carried to all the large 
 towns and sold to housekeepers at a farthing for 
 three bundles. This natural fire-lighting material 
 fortunately grows on waste land, with little and 
 often with no cultivation. If the time ever comes 
 when our daily and weekly journals cease to circulate 
 — their influence has already aroused the indignation 
 
834 TRAVELS m PORTUGAL. 
 
 of some of our demagogue politicians — it will be 
 well to remember that the botanical name of the 
 carqueja is genista hidentata. 
 
 I began these Travels by remarking that Portugal 
 was no country for the mere tourist ; but I under- 
 stand that this enterprising and nearly ubiquitous 
 personage has, since this warning was written, 
 turned his attention to the capabilities of Portugal 
 for his particular purposes. A peaceful country, 
 free from brigands, and with a civil and hospitable 
 population, might seem to invite invasion of this 
 sort, but I compress my advice to such intending 
 immigrants into the dissuasive '^ Don't." They will 
 find reasons for it in nearly every chapter I have 
 written. The real traveller, the patient, inquiring 
 and serious person, will indeed find in Portugal 
 " fresh woods and pastures new ; " but though he 
 need not possess the physique of a Livingstone, he 
 will require qualifications such as the traveller of the 
 idle, amateur kind does not possess.* He must be 
 
 * Portugal, and especially Lisbon, enjoyed at one time a reputa- 
 tion as a winter residence which it has lost for no good reason that 
 I am aware of. The winter climate of Algarve in the extreme south 
 might probably, if meteorological statistics existed, be shown to bear 
 competition with any South of Europe climate whatever ; but in no 
 town of Algarve could the invalid find any sort of comforts ; nor 
 would he find such comforts, or English and French speaking people 
 anywhere but in the two principal cities of the kingdom. There are 
 several good hotels in Lisbon, in all of which French and English 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 335 
 
 a linguist, a born linguist, if lie is to make any- 
 head with the crabbed language of the country in a 
 reasonable time. Very intelligent men are often poor 
 language learners, and many a rare fool is a good 
 linguist, so that a man need not think much the bet- 
 ter of himself for his fluency in a foreign tongue, 
 
 and even German are spoken. The charges are moderate, the cook- 
 ing and attendance good. The best are the Braganza and the 
 Central, and Madame Durand's hotel, the latter, kept by a Swiss and 
 his English wife, is particularly comfortable. 
 
 The winter climate of Lisbon, to my thinking, resembles that of 
 Naples. The mean annual temperatui-e of Oporto is a few degrees 
 lower than that of Lisbon ; but the alternations of heat and cold 
 are not so great. The Northern Capital is sun-ounded by vast pine 
 forests, and these clearly moderate both the extreme heat and the 
 extreme cold, and the winter temperature is probably higher than 
 that of Lisbon. The climate of Oporto may be compared to that of 
 Rome, in whose latitude it lies ; but I suspect that a comparison 
 of meteorological observations would show Oporto to be the more 
 genial and healthy climate of the two. 
 
 At Oporto the hotels are not quite so good as at Lisbon, but 
 they are good enough. There is, as at Lisbon, a Protestant place of 
 worship, and at Oporto is an important and numerous and, I should 
 add, hospitable British colony, the most important, perhaps, in 
 Southern Europe. There is also an excellent English physician. 
 Portugal is within easy reach of Great Britain. Overland, via 
 Madrid by rail, Lisbon can be reached in 6, Oporto in 7 days. By 
 sea, the fast mail steamers from Southampton reach Lisbon in 3^ 
 days. Smaller, slower, but very safe and comfortable boats, leaving 
 London and Liverpool once or twice every week, reach Lisbon in 5 
 and Oporto in 4^ days. 
 
 This is, I believe, a fair statement of the capabilities of Portugal 
 as a winter residence. I do-not advise mere sight-seeing or sporting 
 tourists or confirmed invalids to go to Portugal ; but to persons who 
 simply wish to escape the English winter, I think the country may 
 safely be recommended. 
 
336 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 Still, tlie accomplisliment is a sine qua non in all 
 real foreign travel; and if we ever come to live 
 under a purely paternal government, it may suggest 
 itself to some future Bismarck (if we are ever blessed 
 with one) as a useful reform, and one much to the 
 furtherance of British prestige abroad, to compel 
 intending travellers on the Continent to pass an 
 examination in languages before they step on board 
 the steamboat at Folkestone or Dover. Our national 
 prestige does unquestionably suffer from our peculiar 
 linguistic shortcomings ; and, in sober seriousness, 
 is it not a mistake for the members of a proud nation 
 to place themselves, as we do, at a signal disadvan- 
 tage with almost every foreigner they encounter? 
 The English certainly speak worse French than any 
 European nation ; and it is probably a great surprise 
 to most Englishmen, travelling on the continent for 
 the first time, to find how completely this language 
 has become a lingua Franca among educated classes 
 in all parts of Europe. 
 
 A traveller should do even more than speak 
 French fluently, he should be able to discriminate 
 between the accents and idioms with which other 
 European nations speak it — no very difficult matter, 
 and ignorance of which once brought the present 
 writer into a somewhat awkward predicament. 
 
 It was on the occasion of finding myself on 
 board a large ocean steamer. My cabin companion 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 337 
 
 was a very lively foreign gentleman, whom I set 
 down as a Swiss. We talked upon things in 
 general, and the conversation falling, as it often will 
 fall between chance acquaintances, upon the charac- 
 teristics of different nations, my new friend des- 
 canted with some humour upon this subject, and 
 I followed suit as well as I could. We had expended 
 the small artillery of our ridicule upon the foibles of 
 the people of nearly every country, excepting always 
 England and Switzerland — as I thought, our respec- 
 tive fatherlands; we had said smart and foolish 
 things about Frenchmen, Germans, Russians and 
 Panes, Italians and Spaniards; and as for Dutch- 
 men, I said they would be a great nation, in spite 
 of their canals and even their trousers, if it were not 
 for that story of the wooden nutmegs ; it has made 
 them absurd, and shown them to be rogues the wide 
 world over. '' Sir" said my acquaintance, with a 
 sudden accession of dignity, *^ I was horn at Rotter» 
 dam!'' 
 
 If I say that a man going to Portugal for any 
 other purposes than travel should learn to speak 
 Portuguese, I may seem to utter a truism. Yet I 
 am by no means persuaded that the advice is good. 
 The intending traveller must, as I have said, speak 
 the language correctly and fluently. He who goes 
 to a country intending to live in it permanently, 
 perhaps to trade in it, may indeed wisely hesitate 
 
 22 
 
338 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 before be condescends to master its idiom. A 
 stranger who permits himself to be fluent in a 
 strange tongue, loses some of that ascendancy which 
 a contemptuous indifference to native customs and 
 native forms of speech always gives him. Doctor 
 Johnson was wrong, probably, after all, when he 
 insisted upon speaking Latin instead of French to 
 his French acquaintances. To have heard so 
 learned a man break down in his French genders 
 and his auxiliary verbs, must infallibly have both 
 mortified and impressed the Parisian philosophers. 
 
 The judicious impertinence of our resident 
 countrymen abroad, who will neither speak the 
 language of the natives nor let them speak English, 
 but who contrive a barbarous lingua Franca between 
 the two, is, on the whole, therefore, a successful 
 mode of convincing foreigners of our superiority, — 
 silways assuming that it does not make them laugh. 
 Of this, however, there seems to be little danger ; 
 even the Pigeon English which is used in China, 
 most ridiculous of spoken dialects, and the broken- 
 down Hindustani of our people in India (itself a 
 speech born in camps and bazaars), never raise a 
 smile among Chinamen or Hindoos. The Portu- 
 guese of Englishmen in Portugal has some of the 
 *' pigeon'* element in it, and the less educated the 
 speaker the more barbarous does the dialect become, 
 till in extreme eases PhiHstinism culminates in 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 339 
 
 refusing altogether to learn the language of the 
 country. I once came across an old working man, 
 whose schooling had probably been of the shghtest, 
 and whose pride of race would not allow him to 
 compromise his dignity by condescending to speak 
 Portuguese at all. " These natives understand 
 English well enough if they choose," he said to me, 
 *' it's only their confounded obstinacy, sir ; if you 
 talk loud enough they always understand ! " 
 
 There is something more than a new language 
 to be learnt by some of our countrymen before they 
 travel in Portugal. The natives of the country 
 retain the ceremoniousness which was more or less 
 universal in Europe a hundred years ago. The 
 ceremoniousness of the better bred Italians is as 
 nothing to that of the Portuguese. The punctilious- 
 ness and formality of their social converse exceed 
 those even of the Castilians. In Spain a man may 
 safely use the title TJsted (your Worship) in addressing, 
 every class and rank, short of Royalty itself. Not 
 so in Portugal. He shows his ignorance and makes 
 himself simply ridiculous if he fails to distinguish at 
 least six different classes, with their different forms 
 of address. A little beggar boy or girl he will 
 speak to, impatiently or charitably, as the case may 
 be, but always in the second person singular, " Vai 
 te emhora,'' Go thy way; or ^' Pega n'isto,^' Take 
 this. If the same boy or girl has grown to years of 
 
340 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 discretion, more ceremony must be employed in tlie 
 refusing or the bestowing of alms, " Nao pode serj"* 
 It cannot be ; " Va com Beus,' Pray go off (in tlie 
 third person, let it be observed). 
 
 A working man takes rank with our magistrates 
 at home, and is literally his Worship. Vossemesse is 
 itself a contraction of Vossa Merce, and when the 
 dignity or the age of an interlocutor hardly entitles 
 him to so much honour, the word is contracted to 
 Vosse, Little street boys are to each other in their 
 play together their Lordships or their Worships : 
 " your Lordship is cheating," " your Worship has 
 stolen my kite," and so on. A tradesman is " The 
 Lord," Senhor, or " Your Lordship," Vossa 
 SenJioria, and these titles are applicable a good 
 way up and down in the social scale. "Your 
 Excellency," Vossa Excellencia, is reserved for per- 
 sons of noble rank or high official position, and 
 every lady below the rank of the Queen may also 
 safely and properly be addressed as Your Excellency. 
 
 All these various titles of course require the 
 use of the third person singular, as in Italian. The 
 second person of the plural, formerly used by the 
 Portuguese, has now for several generations been 
 almost confined, in " polite " Portuguese at least, to 
 prayers and addresses to the Deity. 
 
 The forms used in letter-writing are endless. 
 How to begin and how to end, what margin to 
 
TRAVELS IN POETUQAL. 341 
 
 leave, where to sign one's name, when to write 
 one's address as A Casa de Vossa Excellencia^ Your 
 Excellency's own house, and when to avoid this 
 inexpensive kind of generosity; when to end with 
 the formal Deus guarde a Vossa Excellencia, May 
 God preserve your Excellency, and when to assure 
 your correspondent, as is the common form, that 
 you venerate him, and are the most devoted of his 
 servants — all this is a necessary part of the educa- 
 tion of a traveller who desires to pass for a well- 
 bred and courteous person. There is a formula for 
 almost everything, and in circles of not the very 
 highest class this sort of social culture is, as might 
 be supposed, most excessive. 
 
 In the remoter parts of Portugal a curious form 
 of salutation prevails, and prevails almost univer- 
 sally ; a man meeting his acquaintance, or even a 
 perfect stranger, says, '^ Louvado seja Nosso Senlior 
 Jesus Ghristo,^' Praised be Jesus Christ our Lord; 
 and the answer is always, " E para sempre seja lou- 
 vado^^ And praised for ever and ever. It is still 
 customary in most parts of Portugal to say " Viva I " 
 May you live I when a man sneezes, equivalent to 
 the '' God bless you," which prevails among certain 
 homely folk with us under similar circumstances. 
 But in good society this custom is no longer fashion- 
 able, though one's Portuguese friend, if one happens 
 to sneeze in his presence, will sometiines say the 
 
342 TRAVELS IN POBTUOAL. 
 
 word half under his breath, and with a sh'ght depre- 
 catory smile, as if to convey — " I know, my dear 
 sir, that it is not quite the thing to say viva I but 
 my interest in you is so strong that I infringe 
 les hienseances, to show how much I wish you 
 well." 
 
 A Jewish acquaintance, whom I have already 
 mentioned, told me of a curious Talmud ian legend 
 to account for this singular practice, as old as 
 Homer, and common, I believe, to every branch of 
 mankind, of blessing a man who sneezes. When 
 human beings were first created, the legend rims^ 
 they were very loosely put together, and a man's 
 first sneeze would shake him so completely to pieces 
 as to be followed by his immediate break-up and 
 dissolution. In process of time, however, the bodies 
 of men growing more substantial — the molecular 
 particles perhaps, as Professor Tyndall would argue, 
 more firmly compacted — sneezing was not invariably 
 accompanied by instant death, and bystanders, see- 
 ing a man sneeze with impunity, would express at 
 once their astonishment and their conQ;ratulations 
 by some such formula as Viva ! — God bless you ! 
 and so forth. If our modern atomic philosophers 
 can bring themselves to believe in this theory — and 
 they can hardly be looked upon as men of a very 
 sceptical habit of mind — they will no doubt thank 
 me for this addition to the fabric of a cosmogony 
 
TBAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 843 
 
 whicli they are industriously building up for our 
 benefit. 
 
 To return to Portuguese manners, it migbt be 
 imagined that so courteous a people, and one whose 
 communication with each other was so hedged about 
 with formal observances, would be very little given 
 to the use of *' naughty words" in conversation. It 
 is sad to say that this is not the case. They are 
 terribly hard swearers on occasion, but a connois- 
 seur in conversational blasphemy would find little to 
 approve in the range of oaths used by this small 
 nation. The Portuguese is neither so free nor so 
 frequent a swearer as the Spaniard, and he is not 
 nearly so ingenious a one as the Italian. Like all 
 southerners, his oaths have a tendency to be gross 
 or indecent; and many of these people, when they 
 are impatient or excited, use expressions that would 
 shock an English bargee, and raise blushes in the 
 mess-room of a cavalry regiment. 
 
 The inefiicacy of blasphemy as a mode of expres- 
 sion, must, I suppose, have come home to every 
 practiser of the art of swearing. An imprecation 
 may start by being as profane or as abominable as 
 it can be, and yet with a little use it rubs off its 
 wickedness or its grossness and therewith much of 
 its point. Gentlemen in Spain with some claim to 
 decent manners, and even women (not ladies) of 
 quite respectable morality, use expressions which 
 
34A TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 are absolutely untranslatable; and, to come nearer 
 home, tbat fierce and exceedingly inappropriate 
 epithet which our fastidious newspaper reporters 
 
 print hi dy, has been so weakened by use, that a 
 
 recent French Dictionary-maker renders it quite 
 correctly " adj., fam. tres, fort^ 
 
 There is, it must be admitted, something singu- 
 larly startling and bloodthirsty, at first hearing it, 
 in the shouted "ilforra/" Let him die! — of a 
 riotous Portuguese mob ; but the generally good- 
 humoured crowds of a Portuguese city are no more 
 desirous of the death of the momentary object of their 
 evil wishes, than an angry English election crowd 
 would really like to see Mr. Disraeli guillotined, or 
 Mr. Bright brought to the gallows. 
 
 This whole subject of swearing is one to which 
 literary men and philosophers have, perhaps, as yet 
 hardly done full justice. An old Scotch lady has 
 been heard to lament the decline in these islands of 
 this once fashionable practice ; it was she contended, 
 " a great set-ofi* to conversation." No one can 
 deny that oaths, to some extent, take the place of 
 ideas. If I were further from the necessary end of 
 these Travels, I should be glad further to moralize 
 on this delicate theme ; I must instead content myself 
 with a comparison. As contrasted with almost every 
 European nation, we are monotonous in our oaths, 
 and the art, it seems to me, is getting with us more 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL. 345 
 
 and more confined to the less educated and intelli- 
 gent among us; but I will boldly assert, for the 
 honour of my countrymen, that after some expe- 
 rience of the blasphemy of foreign nations, there is no 
 oath so mouth-filling, so complete in every way, so 
 simple, and so utterly stupid (for this is a great 
 recommendation in swearing), as the fine, sounding 
 imprecation which is uttered ten thousand times a 
 day at home, and has prevailed in these Islands 
 since the time.of Froissart. 
 
 We have extracted a practical lesson or two 
 from the Portuguese kitchen-garden. There is 
 nothing to be learnt from their treatment of flowers, 
 and but little from their management of orchards. 
 They possess, indeed, many fine orchards of fruit 
 trees, and groves of oranges and lemons, of olives 
 and mulberries, and extensive forests of pine, ches- 
 nut, and cork-trees, but they are far behind the 
 Germans in forestal science, and the French — the 
 masters of us all — in pomology. The Portuguese 
 oranges grown in the interior are as large and good 
 as those from St. Michael's, but the oranges which 
 come from the seaboard districts — the only ones ever 
 exported to Great Britain — are poor in quality ; for 
 which I can give no reason except bad cultivation, 
 seeing that the best oranges in many other countries 
 grow within reach of the sea breezes. 
 
>846 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 The olives of Portugal — an important food of 
 the people — are gathered riper than in Spain, 
 France, or Italy, and are small and dark coloured. 
 They are probably more wholesome, and, in my 
 opinion, far better to eat, than the olives of any 
 other country ; so good, indeed, and so cheap that 
 it is a wonder they are not brought to this country 
 in place of the hard, half-ripe and expensive ohves of 
 France. The oil made from them is generally badly 
 made, but when properly purified it is quite as good, 
 though by no means as saleable, as the fine oils of 
 Italy. 
 
 The climate of Portugal appears to be identical 
 in many respects with that of Japan; and many 
 Japanese shrubs and flowers, which dwindle and 
 fail in the open air in France and England, grow 
 magnificently in Portugal. Chief among them is 
 the camellia, brought, it is said, about ninety 
 years ago from Japan, and often seen in Portugal 
 of the size of a full grown apple-tree. The 
 camellia seems to require a rather damp climate, 
 and perhaps a granite soil, for the tree is a weak- 
 ling in the dry air of Lisbon, but thrives close 
 by at Cintra, and still better at Oporto, where 
 many new and beautiful varieties are grown, — 
 among others the sweet-scented kind,* of whose 
 
 * A variety, if I am not mistaken, of C. myrtifolia. It has a 
 beautiful, compact, rose-coloured blossom, witb very close, regular. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 847 
 
 existence no Englisli gardener or botanist to whom 
 I have spol en seems to be aware. Lovely as 
 the flowers of the camellia are singly, the tree itself, 
 in full bloom, is by no means an attractive sight. A 
 camellia-tree with a thousand flowers on it might be 
 supposed, with its compact growth and its shiny 
 leaves of rich green, to be an exquisitely beautiful 
 object, but it is nothing of the sort. The flowers, 
 as they begin to fade, get to be of a dingy brown, 
 and hang a long time on the tree, and a camellia- 
 tree in full blossom has by far the largest proportion 
 of its flowers withered and ugly. As a flowering 
 shrub the camellia is not comparable to the poin- 
 settia, which blossoms to perfection in the Algarve 
 provinces, with its mass of intense scarlet bloom 
 looking like a richly-coloured silken drapery hung 
 on the branches of the tree ; or to the white datura. 
 A datura shrub in full bloom, with its thousands of 
 pendent flower bells reflected in a pool of water, is a 
 thing not soon to be forgotten. 
 
 In their treatment of trees the Portuguese have 
 a practice which, if I could be quite certain of its 
 efficacy, I should not hesitate to proclaim to be an 
 invention of singular value and importance. It was 
 while travelling through the eastern part of the Pro- 
 vince of Alemtejo, — the great province which lies 
 
 waxy and rather pointed petals. The flower has a faint, honey- 
 fiweet scent. 
 
348 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 immediately to the south of the river Tagus, — that I 
 one day came upon a farmer boring a hole with an 
 auger into the very heart of a large cork-tree. Hav- 
 ing driven the instrument about a foot into the tree 
 he took from his pocket a small bottle, and was pro- 
 ceeding to pour its contents into the hole he had 
 made. At this juncture, my curiosity overcoming 
 me, I dismounted and asked him what he was about. 
 He showed me the bottle, which contained about a 
 spoonful of quicksilver, and told me that this being 
 poured into the hole, the tree would eventually die. 
 He told me that a few drops of quicksilver so appHed 
 were enough to destroy the largest and most flourish- 
 ing tree. Cause and effect seemed to me — and still 
 seem — strangely disproportioned, and T cannot 
 speak from any actual observation of the results as 
 to the efficacy of this curious method of killing 
 trees ; nor, assuming that it is efficacious, can I 
 account in any rational way for the destructive 
 effects of so small a quantity of mercury. Perhaps 
 it permeates the tubes of the vegetable tissue ; per- 
 haps it mechanically arrests the ascending sap ; 
 perhaps, combining with the chemical constituents 
 of the sap, it forms some powerful mercurial salt, 
 poisonous to vegetation; perhaps the hole in the 
 heart of the tree is itself fatal to it. I can only say 
 that the practice, as I have described it, is not con- 
 fined to one part of Portugal, and is at least be- 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 349 
 
 lieved in by tlie Portuguese. It might be wortb 
 while to try the experiment. If it be true that a 
 tree can be so easily and cheaply destroyed, the 
 value of such a fact to a colonist in uncleared forest 
 land would be simply incalculable. I give the receipt 
 for what it is worth. I do not vouch for it. I do 
 not even believe in it. " It may be true/* as a 
 "Welshman says in one of our old comedies, ** but it 
 is very impossible." 
 
 As farming is, in an agricultural country, the 
 most important and interesting of subjects, I will 
 bring this Chapter to a conclusion with a few words 
 upon the matter. It is needless to say that farming 
 in Portugal is the reverse of scientil&c. The owners 
 of great estates in the midland districts of the 
 country are, indeed, at last turning their attention 
 to the cultivation of their lands by machinery and 
 by steam; but Portuguese agriculture in general 
 is quite two hundred years behind what it is in our 
 own country. For instance, the rotation of crops 
 involves a simple principle which I could never 
 get a Portuguese farmer to entertain. He could 
 perfectly understand exhaustion of the land, but 
 not that certain constituents only of the soil could 
 be taken out of it ; not that it could be exhausted 
 for one crop and not for another. In practice, 
 indeed, the Portuguese disregard the great principle 
 thus involved ; and they disregard it with curious 
 
350 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL, 
 
 impunity. On farms suitably situated for irrigation, 
 fair crops of maize have been raised, summer after 
 summer, for over a hundred years, Jethro Tull 
 himself could never have proposed to carry his 
 famous and fallacious principle so far as this. 
 
 How, then, it may be asked, can the Minho 
 farmer do what the English theorist failed of ac- 
 complishing ; how can he fly in the face of organic 
 chemistry and all experience, and secure a valu- 
 able grain crop year after year from the same 
 field? 
 
 The answer is a curious one, and the solution of 
 the problem is in perfect accordance with scientific 
 law. Baron Liebig himself would have admitted its 
 soundness. Every Minhote farm has adjoining it a 
 piece of poor land occupied with gorse ; it is usually 
 a part of the pine forest. I have already described 
 how the gorse growth is cu every three years. 
 The cutting is a root and branch operation, effected 
 with the strong country hoe. The gorse is literally 
 scraped up, and with it are cut mosses, bent-grasses, 
 gentians, ferns, and a liberal portion of the surface 
 earth itself All this is thrown into the cattle byres, 
 into which no particle of straw (as with us at home) 
 is ever cast ; and this system naturally results in three 
 very appreciable advantages. First, a much larger 
 quantity of manure is made than with the straw- 
 fodder system, and, all the straw being used as food. 
 
TRAVELS IN POBTUGAL, 351 ' 
 
 the land of course '* carries. more stock." Secondly, 
 the seeds of plants taken. from the forest patches are 
 of species whose seed will not germinate in culti- 
 vated land, or having germinated will not thrive, 
 and the fields are not in consequence made weed- 
 dirty. Thirdly, these forest perennials of slower 
 growth and development are fuller of enriching in- 
 gredients — phosphates, carbon, alkalis, and I know 
 not what besides — ^than straw-fodder, and benefit 
 the land accordingly ; they put into it probably 
 what it never had before ; and the earthy particles 
 which go with them are a direct transfusion, as it 
 were, of fresh blood into the veins of the soil, 
 emptied and exhausted by successive grain crops. 
 This is the explanation of the mystery, and it is for 
 our farmers at home to say whether they think the 
 plan worth adopting. It is not, I think, science 
 that will try to dissuade them. 
 
 To return to the farm system ; the growing of 
 maize (the chief bread corn) and the fattening of 
 cattle bred in the highlands of the interior, are the 
 two chief operations of the farmer, where the small 
 farm system prevails. The oxen are stall-fed, 
 because it would be wasteful to let them tread 
 down the tiny fields in feeding themselves. During 
 the summer they are given the male flower pannicles 
 of the maize, and the thinnings of the maize fields, 
 and straw of various kinds; in winter they get 
 
362 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 clover, rye and other grasses, and maize straw — a 
 comparatively sweet and fattening food. 
 
 Instead of mowing tlie grass fields with scythes, 
 which will cut from half to three quarters of an acre 
 a day, the Portuguese use tiny saw-toothed hooks 
 that will cut but the fourth or sixth part of that 
 area in a long summer's day. The grass thus pain- 
 fully and slowly reaped is carried on men's or 
 women's heads often the distance of a mile ; and 
 yet, wonderful to say, cattle so fed and fattened, 
 can be sent to England, pay freight and insurance, 
 and sell at an excellent profit ; and this exportation 
 begun some twenty years ago, has reached large 
 proportions, and has had much to do with 
 the enrichment of the farmers of the northern 
 Provinces. 
 
 The common plough in Portugal is formed of a 
 crooked branch, and is so small that a man can 
 carry it on his shoulder, and the friable soil is rather 
 scratched than ploughed. The maize is sown broad- 
 cast, and hand-hoed two or three times in the course 
 of the year, and irrigated with little driblets of 
 water led to its roots with all economy of the 
 precious fluid and a skilfulness which it is plea- 
 sant to watch, — the bare-footed labourer quickly 
 cutting out with his hoe narrow channels for the 
 flowing water, and stamping out a little basin round 
 each plant. 
 
TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 353 
 
 A Scotcli or English farmer would, I have no 
 doubt, laugh at the clumsy ploughs and harrows, 
 the absence of labour-saving machines, and the 
 seeming waste of manual labour ; but it may be 
 questioned whether, looking to the smallness of 
 farms and the abundance of labour, the ridicule 
 would be altogether justified. The Portuguese 
 farmer makes his farm pay — and pay well — and, 
 after all, this is the surest test of farming. Until 
 quite recently he has had, in the North at least, a 
 wonderfully prosperous time ; but changes are taking 
 place even in Portugal, and I doubt whether the old 
 system and the old order of things will continue long 
 unmodified and unreformed. Mines and railways 
 compete with the farmer for his labourers, and emi- 
 gration to Brazil is going on rapidly. The wages of 
 day labour have nearly doubled in thirty years. 
 Already farms are less fully cultivated than they 
 used to be. The prices of cattle and Indian corn 
 cannot continue always to rise in sympathy with the 
 rise in wages, for cattle must follow the prices of 
 the London market, and if maize gets much dearer, it 
 will be cheapened again by importation. One of two 
 things must therefore shortly take place: either 
 the non-cultivation of the poorer lands, or a' reform 
 in Portuguese agriculture. 
 
 So it is that even the yeoman farmer on the 
 remote hills of Portugal makes part of the great 
 
 23 
 
354 TRAVELS IN PORTUGAL. 
 
 commercial system of tlie world, and gains or loses 
 by a rise or fall in the price of corn in Chicago 
 and Odessa, or of butcher's meat in Leadenhall 
 ]\Iarket. 
 
 THE EN J). 
 
 Simmons & Botten, Printers', Shoe Lane, rioet Gtrect. 
 
THE NEW QUARTERLY MAGAZINE 
 
 Published April {, July I, October I, and December I. 
 
 A Social and Literary Periodical. 
 
 :E=»r»ico 2s. 6c^. ; 
 
 AirmuiJ Suhscription, 10s, ; Free by Post, lis. 
 
 THE NEW QUARTERLY MAGAZINE differs from all existing 
 Magazines : — i. In admitting none liut signed contributions ; 2. in each 
 Number being complete in itself ; 3. in containing considerably more printed 
 matter than any other Magazine published in Great Britain ; 4. in the fact 
 tliat two completed Stories"^ by Authors of established reputation, are con- 
 tained in each Number. 
 
 Contents of last Numhe}' of 
 
 THE NEW QUARTERLY MAGAZINE, 
 
 Published on July i. 
 
 BE QUINCSY. By tlie Editor. 
 
 AFFONSO HEt^RIQUEZ AND THE RISE OF PORTUaAL. By OSWALD CraVV- 
 
 FURD, H.M.'s Consul at Oporto. 
 THE MODERN STAGE. By Robert Buchanan. 
 
 DARE CYBEL. By Mrs. Cashel Hoey, Author of " Only an Episode," etc. 
 LORD BUTE THE PREMIER. By Rev. F. Arnold. 
 
 THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE. By Frances Power Cobbe. 
 BY THE LAW. By E. Eynn Linton, Author of "Patricia Kemball,'* "The 
 
 Mad Willoughbys," etc. 
 
 CONTENTS OF^NO. Q, 
 
 Published October i, 1875. 
 
 VILLAGE ORGANIZATION. By Richard Jefferies. 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. By George Barnett Smith. 
 
 NINO BIXIO. By Evelyn Carrington. 
 
 NO SIGN: A NOVEL. By Mrs. Cashel Hoey, Author of "The Blossoming 
 
 of an Aloe," &c. 
 THE ARTISTIC SPIRIT IN MODERN POETRY. By J. W. Comyns Carr. 
 THE DOLOMITES OF THE TYROL. By G. F. GODDARD. 
 THE SUMMERFIELD IMBKOGLIO : A TALE. By Mortimer Collins, Autlior 
 
 of "Frances," " Sweet und Twenty," (S:c. 
 TENNYSON'S QUEIN KARY. By the Rev. T. H. L. Leary, D.C.L. 
 
 LONDON : WARD, LOCK, & TYLER, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
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