Just at this time, several French Gentlemen came in to look at the pictures, and my surprise became infinitely greater than ever; they talked with her about the several pieces, without betraying the least degree of surprise at the subjects, or the woman who shewed them; nor did they seem to think it was a matter of any to me; and I verily believe the woman was so totally a stranger to sentiment or decency, that she considered herself employed in the ordinary way of shopkeepers, that of shewing and selling her goods: as her shop was almost opposite to the General Post-office, where I went every day for my letters, I frequently saw women of fashion at this shop; whether they visited the magazine, or not, I cannot say, but I think there is no doubt but they might borrow the mass-book I mentioned above.

I shall leave you to make your own comments upon this subject; and then I am sure you will tremble for the fatal consequences which your son, or any young man, may, nay must be led into, in a country where Vice is painted with all her bewitching colours, in the fore-ground of the picture; and where Virtue, if there be any, is thrown so far behind in the back shade, that it is ten to one but it escapes the notice of a youthful examiner.

I cannot help adding another instance of the profligacy of this town. Lord P—— being invited by a French Gentleman to spend a day at his Chateau, in this country, took occasion to tell his Lordship, that in order to render the day as agreeable as possible to his company, he had provided some young people of both sexes to attend, and desired to know his Lordship's gout. The young Nobleman concealed his surprise, and told his generous host, that he was not fashionable enough to walk out of the paths of nature. The same question was then put to the other company, in the order of their rank; and the last, an humble Frenchman, replied, it was to him egal l'un, et l'autre, just as it proved most convenient. This is not a traveller's story; it is a fact; and I dare say the Nobleman, who was of the party, will give it the sanction of his name, though I cannot with any degree of propriety.



LETTER IV.

JONQUIRE.

I have now crossed the Pyrenees, and write this from the first village in Spain. These mountains are of such an enormous height, as well as extent, that they seem as if they were formed even by nature to divide nations. Nor is there any other pass by land into this kingdom but over them; for they extend upwards of thirty leagues from the Mediterranean Sea, near Perpignan in Rousillon to the city of Pompelina in Navarre; I should have said, extend into the Mediterranean Sea, for there the extremity projects its lofty head, like a noble fortress of nature, into the ocean, far beyond the low lands on either side. Indeed the extensive plains on both side these lofty mountains (so unusual in the Southern parts of Europe) would almost make one suspect, that nature herself had been exhausted in raising such an immense pile, which, as if it were the back-bone of an huge animal, was made to hold, and bind together, all the parts of the western world. There are, I think, nine passes over these hills into Spain, two or three of which are very commodious, and wonderfully picturesque: others are dreadful, and often dangerous; the two best are at the extremities; that which I have just passed, and the other near Bayonne; the former is not only very safe, except just after very heavy and long-continued rains, but in the highest degree pleasing, astonishing, and wonderfully romantic, as well as beautiful.

At Boulon, the last village in France, twelve long leagues from Perpignan, and seemingly under the foot of the Pyrenees, we crossed a river, for the first time, which must be forded three or four times more, before you begin to ascend the hills; but if the river can be safely crossed at Boulon, there can be no difficulty afterwards, as there alone the stream is most rapid, and the channel deepest. At this town there are always a set of fellows ready to offer their service, who ford the river, and support the carriage; nor is it an easy matter to prevent them, when no such assistance is necessary; and I was obliged to handle my pistols, to make them unhandle my wheels; as it is more than probable they would have overset us in shallow water, to gain an opportunity of shewing their politeness in picking us up again. The stream, indeed, was very rapid; and I was rather provoked by the rudeness of the people, to pass through it without assistance, than convinced there needed none.

Having crossed the river four or five times more, and passed between rocks, and broken land, through a very uncultivated and romantic vale, we began to ascend the Pyrenees upon a noble road, indeed! hewn upon the sides of those adamantine hills, of a considerable width, and an easy ascent, quite up to the high Fortress of Bellegarde, which stands upon the pinnacle of the highest hill, and which commands this renowned pass.

You will easier conceive than I can describe the many rude and various scenes which mountains so high, so rocky, so steep, so divided, and, I may add too, so fertile, exhibit to the traveler's eyes. The constant water-falls from the melted snow above, the gullies and breaches made by water-torrents during great rains, the rivulets in the vale below, the verdure on their banks, the herds of goats, the humble, but picturesque habitations of the goat-herds, the hot sun shining upon the snow-capt hills above, and the steep precipices below, all crowd together so strongly upon the imagination, that they intoxicate the passenger with delight.

The French nation in no instance shew their greatness more than in the durable and noble manner they build and make their high-roads; here, the expence was not only cutting the hard mountain, and raising a fine road on their sides, but building arches of an immense height from mountain to mountain, and over breaks and water-falls, with great solidity, and excellent workmanship.

The invalide guard at this fortress take upon themselves, very improperly, and I am sure very unwarrantably, to examine strangers who pass, with an impertinent curiosity; for they must admit all who come with a proper passa-porte into Spain, and durst not admit any without it. On my arrival at the Guard-house, they seized my horse's head, and called for my passa-porte, in terms very unlike the usual politeness of French guards; and while my pass was carried into a little office, hard by, to be registered, those who remained on the side of my chaise took occasion to ask me of what country I was: I desired to refer them to my passa-porte, (where I knew no information of that kind was given,) as it was a question I could not very well answer; but upon being further urged, I at length told them, I was an Hottentot.—"Otentot—Otentot—pray what king governs that country?" said one of them. No king governs the Hottentots replied I. "What then, is your country without a king?" said another, with astonishment! No; not absolutely so, neither; for the Hottentots have a king; but he always keeps a number of ambitious and crafty men about his Court, who govern him; and those men, who are generally knaves, feed the people with guts, and entrails of beasts, give the king now and then a little bit of the main body, and divide the rest among themselves, their friends, their favourites, and sycophants. But I soon found, these were questions leading to a more important one; and that was, what countryman my horse was;—for, suspecting him to be an Englishman, they would perhaps, if I had been weak enough to have owned it, have made me pay a considerable duty for his admission into Spain; though I believe it cannot legally be done or levied upon any horse, French, or English, (to use an act of parliament phrase) but such "as are not actually in harness, nor drawing in a carriage."

The Spaniards too have done their duty, as to the descent of the Pyrenees from Bellegarde, but no further; from thence to this village, is about the same distance that Boulon is from the foot of the mountains on the other side; but though this road is quite destitute of art it is adorned highly by nature.

But, before I left Bellegarde, I should have told you, that near that Fortress the arms of France and Spain, cut on stone pillars, are placed vis-a-vis on each side of the road; a spot where some times an affair of honour is decided by two men, who engage in personal combat; each standing in a different kingdom; and where, if one falls, the other need not run; for, by the Family Compact, it is agreed, not to give up deserters or murderers.

The road is not less romantic on the Spanish, than on the French side of the Pyrenees; the face of the country is more beautiful, and the faces of all things, animate and inanimate, are quite different; and one would be apt to think, that instead of having passed a few hills, one had passed over a large ocean: the hogs, for instance, which are all white on the French side, are all black on this.

We arrived here upon a Sunday, when the inhabitants had on their best apparel: but instead of high head-dresses, false curls, plumes of feathers, and a quantity of powder, the women had their black hair combed tight from their foreheads and temples, and tied behind, in either red, blue, or black nets, something like the caul of a peruke, from which hang large tassels down to the middle of their back; the men's hair was done up in nets in the same manner, but not so gaudy.

Before we arrived here, I overtook a girl with a load of fresh hay upon her head, whom (at the request of my horse) I entreated to spare me a little, but, till she had called back her brother, who had another load of the same kind, would not treat with me; they soon agreed, however, that my request was reasonable; and so was their demand; and there, under the shade of a noble grove of large cork-trees, we and our horse eat a most luxurious meal: appetite was the sauce; and the wild scenes, and stupendous rocks, which every way surrounded our salle a manger, were our dessert.

And that you may not be alarmed about this mighty matter, (as it is by many thought) of parting from France to Spain, by the way of Perpignan, it may not be amiss to say, that I left the last town about seven o'clock in the morning, in a heavy French cabriolet, drawn by one strong English horse, charged with four persons, and much baggage; yet we arrived here about three o'clock the same day; where at our supper, we had a specimen of Spanish cookery, as well as Spanish beds, bills, and custom-house officers: to the latter, a small donative is better bestowed, than the trouble of unpacking all your baggage, and much better relished by them: as to the host, he was neither rude, nor over civil; the cookery more savoury than clean; the window frames without glass, the rooms without chimneys. The demand for such entertainment is rather dearer than in France.

Before I left Perpignan, I found it necessary to exchange some French gold for Spanish, and to be well informed of the two kingdoms. There were many people willing to change my money; though but few, indeed, who would give the full value. Formerly, you know, the Pyrenees were charged with gold, from whence the Phoenicians fetched great quantities every year. In the time of the Romans, much of the Pyrenean gold was sent to Rome; and a King of Portugal, so lately as the year 1512, had a crown and sceptre made of the gold washed from those hills into the Tagus; their treasures were known, you may remember, even to Ovid.

"Quod suo Tagus amne vehit fluit Ignibus aurum."

But as I did not expect to find a gold mine on my passage into Spain, I thought it best to carry a little with me, and leave nothing to chance; and I should have been content to have found, by the help of my gun, the bird vulgarly called the Gelinotte des Pyrenees; it has a curved bill like a hawk, and two long feathers in the tail; but though I saw a great number of different birds, I was not fortunate enough to find the Ganga, for that is the true name of a bird, so beautiful in feather, and of so delicate a flavour, that it is even mentioned by Aristotle, and is a native of these hills.

P.S. I forgot to tell you, that the day we left Cette we stopped, according to custom, to eat our cold dinner, in an olive grove; from whence we had a noble view of the Mediterranean Sea, and a most delightfully situated Chateau, standing upon the banks of a salt-water lake, at least twenty miles in circumference, "clear as the expanse of heaven;" and that while we were preparing to spread our napkin, a gentleman of genteel appearance came out from a neighbouring vineyard, and asked us if any accident had happened, and desired, if we wanted any thing, that we would command him, or whatever his house afforded, pointing to the Chateau, which had so attracted our notice: we told him, our business was to eat our little repast, with his leave, under, what we presumed, was his shade also, and invited him to partake with us. He had already captivated us by his polite attention, and by his agreeable conversation: we lamented that we had not better pretensions to have visited his lovely habitation. We found he was well acquainted with many English persons of fashion, who have occasionally resided at Montpellier; and I am sure, his being a winter inhabitant of that city, must be one of the most favourable circumstances the town affords. These little attentions to strangers, are never omitted by the well-bred part of the French nation. I could not refill asking the name of a gentleman, to whom I felt myself so much obliged, nor avoid telling him my own, and what had passed at the town of Cette, relative to the musical instruments, as one of the largest was still with us.—He seemed astonished, that I preferred the long and dangerous journey by land, as he thought it, to Barcelona, when I might, he said, have run down to it over a smooth sea, in the same bark I had put my baggage on board.



LETTER XVI.

GIRONE.

From Jonquere to Figuere (about four hours journey, so they reckon in Spain) the road is intolerable, and the country beautiful; over which the traveller may, as nature has done, repose himself upon a flowery bed, indeed; for nature surely could not do more for the pleasure and profit of man, than she has done from Jonquere to Girone. The town of Figuere is, properly speaking, the first town in Spain; for Jonquere is rather a hamlet; but Figuere has a decent, comfortable appearance, abounds with merchants and tradesmen, and at a little distance from it stands the strongest citadel in Spain; indeed it is the frontier town of the kingdom. The quietness of the people, and seeming tranquility of all ranks and orders of men in Spain, is very remarkable to a person who has just left a kingdom in every respect so different. Strangers as we were, and as we must be known to be, we passed unnoticed; and when we stopped near a cottage to eat our hedge dinner, neither man, woman, or child came near us, till I asked for water, and then they brought with it, unasked, dried grapes, and chesnuts, but instantly retired. I was charmed with the Arcadian inhabitants, and visited the inside of their cabin; but its situation upon a little tump, on the bank of a brook, shaded by ever-green oaks, and large spreading fig-trees, was all it had to boast of; it had nothing within but straw beds, Indian corn, dried grapes, figs, &c.

From Figuere to Girone, which is a good day's journey, the country is enclosed, and the hedgerows, corn fields, &c. had in many places the appearance of the finest parts of England, only warmed by a hotter sun, and adorned with woods and trees of other species; instead of the hawthorn, I found the orange and the pomegranate, the myrtle and the cypress; in short, all nature seemed to rejoice here, but man alone.

From many parts of this road we had a view of the Mediterranean Sea, and the Golfe de Royas, a fine bay, over which the heads of the Pyrenees hang; and on the banks of which there seemed to be, not only villages, but large towns; the situations of which appeared so enchanting, that I could hardly resist the temptation of visiting them;—and now wonder why I did not; but at that time, I suppose I did not recollect I had nothing else to do.

We entered this town rather too late, and were followed to our inn by an armed soldier, who demanded, in harsh terms, my attendance upon the Governor; I enquired whether it was customary for a Gentleman, just off a journey, to be so called upon, and was assured it was not; that my passa-porte was sufficient. I therefore gave that to my conductor, and desired him to take it, and return it, which he did, in about half an hour; but required to be paid for his trouble—a request I declined understanding.

This is a fortified city, well built, but every house has the appearance of a convent. I went into the market, where fruit, flesh, and vegetables, were to be sold in abundance; but instead of that noise which French and English markets abound with, a general silence and gravity reigned throughout; which, can hardly be thought possible, where so many buyers and sellers were collected together. I bought a basket of figs, but the vender of them spoke to me as softly as if we had been engaged in a conspiracy, but she did not attempt to impose; I dare say, she asked me no more than she would have demanded of a Spaniard. The manners of people are certainly infectious; my spirits sunk in this town; and I wanted nothing but the language, and a long cloak, to make me a compleat Spaniard. Our inn was the Golden Fountain; and, considering it was in Spain, not a bad one. If the town, however, was gloomy, the country round about it exhibited all the beauties nature can boast of.

In climates, says some writer, where the earth seems to be the pride and masterpiece of nature, rags, and dirt, ghastly countenances, and misery under every form, are oftener met with, than in those countries less favoured by nature; and the forlorn and wretched condition of the people in general seemed to belie and disgrace their native soil. Certain it is, that the natives of the southern parts of Europe have neither the beauty, the strength, nor comeliness of men born in more northern climates. I have seen in the South of France, in Spain, and Portugal, the aged especially of both sexes, who hardly appeared human! nor do you see, in general, even among the youthful, much more beauty than that which youth alone must give; for youth itself is beauty. Whoever compares the natives of Switzerland, England, Ireland, and Scotland, with those of Spain, Portugal, or other Southern climates, will find, that men born among cold, bleak mountains, are infinitely superior to those of the finest climates under the sun. Perhaps, however, this difference may arise more from the want of Liberty than the power of climate. Oh Liberty! sweet Liberty! without thee life cannot be enjoyed! Thou parent of comfort, whose children bless thee, though they dwell among the barren rocks, or the most surly regions of the earth! Thou blessest, in spite of nature; and in spite of nature, tyranny brings curses.



LETTER. XVII.

MARTORY.

After we left Girone we passed thro' a fine country, but not equal to that which is between Jonquire and that town; we lay the first night at a veritiable Spanish posada; it was a single house, called the Grenade. We arrived there early in the afternoon; and though the inside of the house was but so-so, every thing without was charming, and our host and his two daughters gave us the best they had, treated us with civility enough; and gave us good advice in the prosecution of our journey to Barcelona; for about four leagues from this house, we found two roads to that city, one on the side of the Mediterranean Sea, the other inland. He advised us to take the former, which exactly tallied with my inclination, for wherever the sea-coast affords a road in hot climates, that must be the pleasantest; and I was very impatient till we got here.

After we had left the high inland road, we had about three leagues to the sea side, and the village on its margin where we were to lie; this road was through a very wild, uncultivated country, over-run with underwood and tall firs. We saw but few houses and met with fewer people. When we came near the sea, the country, however, improved upon us; and the farms, churches, convents, and beacons, upon the high lands, rendered the prospects every way pleasing. We crossed a shallow river several times, adorned on both sides with an infinite quantity of tall beeches, on one of which trees (boy like) I cut my name, too high for other boys, without a ladder, to cut me out again. At length we arrived at the village, and at a posada, than which nothing could be more dreadful, after the day-light was gone; for beside the rudest mistress, and the dirtiest servants that can be conceived, there lay a poor Frenchman dying in the next room to us; nay, I may almost say, in the same room with us, for it could hardly be called a door which parted us. This poor man, who had not a shilling in his pocket, had lain twenty days ill in that house; but was attended by the priests of the town with as much assiduity as if he had been a man of fashion: he had been often exhorted by them, it seems, to confess, but had refused. The night we came, he feared would be his last, and he determined to make his confession; I was in the room when he signified his desire so to do; and all the people were dismissed by the parish priest. I returned to my room, and could now and then hear what the priest said: but the sick man's voice was too low: his crimes however, I fear, were of an high nature, for we heard the priest say, with a voice of impatience and seeming horror, Adonde—adonde—adonde?—Where—where—where?

You may imagine, a bad supper, lighted by stinking oil, burning in an iron lamp hung against the side of a wall, (for there were no candles to be had) and while the sick man was receiving the last sacrament, would have been little relished had it been good; that our dirty straw beds were no very comfortable retreat; and that day-light the next morning was what we most wanted and wished for. Indeed, I never spent a more miserable night; but it was amply made up to us by this day's journey to Martory, for we coasted it along the sea, which sometimes washed the wheels of my chaise At others, we crossed over high head-lands, which afforded such extensive views over both elements, as abundantly overpaid us for the sufferings of the preceding evening. The roads, indeed, over these head-lands were bad enough, in some places dangerous; but between walking and riding, with a steady horse, we got on very well.

On this coast, we found a village at every league, inhabited by rich fishermen, and wealthy ship-builders, and found all these artificers busy enough in their professions; in some places, there were an hundred men dragging in, by bodily strength, the Saine; at others, still more surprising, ships of two hundred tons were building on the dry land, where no tide rises to launch them! These villages are built close to the sea; nothing intervenes between their houses and the ocean but their little gardens, in which, under the shade of their orange, lemon, and vine trees, which were loaded with fruit, sat the wives and daughters of the fishermen, making black silk lace. Though I call them villages, and though they are in reality so, yet the houses were such, in general, as would make a good figure even in a fine city; for they were all well built, and many adorned on the outside with no contemptible paintings.

The town, indeed, from which I write, is situated in the same manner, but is a little city, and affords a posada, (I speak by comparison, remember) comfortable enough; and the sea a fish, they call the red fish, than which nothing can be more delicious; I may venture almost to call it the sea woodcock, for it is eaten altogether in the same manner. We fared better than my poor horse, for not a grain of oats or barley did this city afford; nor has he tasted, or have I seen, a morsel of hay since I parted from my little Dona, near the foot of the Pyrenees. Tomorrow we have seven hours to Barcelona; I can see the high cape under which it stands, and from under which, you shall soon hear again from me.



LETTER XVIII.

BARCELONA.

Upon our arrival at this town, we were obliged to wait at the outward gate above half an hour, no person being admitted to enter from twelve till one, tho' all the world may go out; that hour being allotted for the guards, &c. to eat their dinner. As I had no letter to any person in this city, but to the French Consul, I had previously wrote to a Mr. Ford, a merchant at Barcelona, with whom I had formerly travelled from London to Bath, to beg the favour of him to provide lodgings for me; I therefore enquired for Mr. Ford's house, and found myself conducted to that of a Mr. Curtoys; Mr. Ford, unfortunately for me, was dead; but the same house and business is carried on by Messrs. Adams and Curtoys, who had received and opened my letter. After this family had a little reconnoitred mine, Mr. Curtoys came down, and with much civility, and an hospitable countenance, told me his dinner was upon the table, and in very pressing terms desired that we would partake of it. We found here a large family, consisting of his wife, a motherly good-looking woman; Mrs. Adams, her daughter by a former husband, a jolly dame; and several children. Mrs. Adams spoke fluently the Catalan, French, English, and Spanish tongues; all which were necessary at a table where there were people who understood but one only of each language. Mr. Curtoys pressed us to dine with him a few days after, a favour which I, only, accepted; when he told me, he was nominated, but not absolutely fixed in his Consulship of this city; that he had obtained it by the favour of Lord Rochford, who had spent some days at his house, on his way to Madrid, when his Lordship was Ambassador to this Court; and before I went from him, he desired I and my family would dine with him at his country-house the next day: instead of which, I waited upon him in the morning, and told him, that I had formerly received civilities from his friend, Lord Rochford, and believed him once to have been mine; but that, unfortunately, I found now it was much otherwise; and observed, that perhaps his politeness to me might injure him with his Lordship; and that I thought it right to say so much, that he might be guided by his own judgment, and not follow the bent of his inclination, if he thought it might be prejudicial to his interest; and by the way of a little return for the hospitable manner in which he had received and entertained me, and my family, I took out an hundred and twenty-five pound in Banknotes, and desired him to send them to England; adding, that I had about thirty pounds in my pocket, which I hoped would be sufficient for my expences, till he had an account of their safe arrival. But instead of his wonted chearful countenance, I was contunded with an affected air of the man of business; my bank notes were shined against the window, turned and twisted about, as if the utmost use they could be of were to light the Consul's pipe after supper. I asked him whether he had any doubts of their authenticity; and shewed him a letter to confirm my being the person I said I was, written to me but a short time before, from his friend Lord Rochford, from whom he too had just received a letter: he then observed; that a burnt child dreads the fire; that their House had suffered; that a Moor had lately passed thro' France, who had put off a great number of false Bank notes, and that I might indiscreetly have taken some of them; but assuring him that I had received all mine from the hands of Messrs. Hoare, and that I would not call upon him for the money till he had received advice of their being good, I took my leave, and left my notes.

But as there was a possibility, nay, a probability, that Mr. Curtoys might not have very early advice from England, or might not give it to me if he had, (for all his hospitality of countenance and civility was departed) I thought it was necessary to secure a retreat; for I should have informed you, that I found at his table a Mr. Wombwell, whose uncle I had lived in great intimacy with many years before at Gibraltar, and who left this man (now a Spanish merchant) all his fortune. Indeed, I should have said, that Mr. Wombwell had visited me, and even had asked me to dine with him; and as he appeared infinitely superior both in understanding, address, and knowledge of the world to good Mr. Curtoys, I went to him, with that confidence which a good note, and a good cause, gives to every man. I told him the Consul's fears, and my own, lest I might want money before Mr. Curtoys was ready to supply me; in which case, and which only, I asked Mr. Wombwell if he would change me a twenty pound Bank note, and shewed him one which I then took out of my pocket; but Mr. Wombwell too examined my notes, with all the attention of a cautious tradesman, and put on all that imperiousness which riches, and the haughty Spanish manners to an humble suitor, could suggest. I tell you, my dear Sir, what passed between us, more out of pity than resentment towards him; he said I will recollect it as nearly as I can, "that if you are Mr. Thicknesse, you must have lived a great deal in the world; it is therefore unfortunate, you are not acquainted with Sir Thomas Gascoyne, a gentleman of fashion, well known in England, and now in the same auberge with you." I confessed that I had seen, and conversed with Sir Thomas Gascoyne there, and that it was very true, he was to me, and I to him, utter strangers; but I observed, that Sir Thomas had been ten years upon his travels, and that I had lived fourteen years in retirement before he set out, and therefore that was but a weak circumstance of my being an impostor; I observed too, that impostors travelled singly, not with a wife and children; and that though I by no means wished to force his money out of his pocket, I coveted much to remove all suspicions of my being an adventurer, for many obvious reasons. This reply opened a glimpse of generosity, though sullied with arrogance and pride. "I should be sorry (said he) to see a countryman, who is an honest man, in want of money; and therefore, as I think it is probable you are Mr. Thicknesse, I will, when you want your note changed, change it;" adding, however, that "he thanked God! if he lost the money, he could afford it." I then told him, he had put it in my power to convince him I was Mr. Thicknesse, by declining, as I did, the boon he offered me; I declined it, indeed, with an honest indignation, because I am sure he did not doubt my being Mr. Thicknesse, and that he, not I, was the REAL PRETENDER. I had before told him, that I had some letters in my pocket written by a Spanish Gentleman of fashion, whose hand-writing must be well known in that town;—but to this he observed, that there was not a Moor in Spain who could not write Spanish;—he further remarked, that if I was Mr. Thicknesse, I had, in a publication of my travels, spoke of Sir John Lambert, a Parisian Banker, in very unhandsome terms, and, for aught he knew, I might take the same liberty with his name, in future. I acknowledged that his charge was very true, and that his suggestion might be so; that I should always speak and publish such truths as I thought proper, either for the information of others, or the satisfaction of myself. Mr. Wombwell, however, acknowledged, that Mr. Curtoys, to whom I shewed Lord Rochford's letter to me, ought to have been quite satisfied whether I was, or was not an impostor; but I still left him under real or pretended doubts, with a resolution to live upon bread and water, or the bounty of a taylor, my honest landlord; for, tho' a Spaniard, I am sure he had that perception, and that humanity too, which Mess. Curtoys and Wombwell have not, or artfully concealed from me: yet, in spite of all the unkind behaviour of the latter, I could not help shewing him my share of vanity too; I therefore sent him a letter, and enclosed therein others written to me by the late Lord Holland, the Duke of Richmond, Lord Oxford, and many other people of rank; and desired him to give me credit, at least, for that which he could lose nothing by—that of my being, if I was an impostor, an ingenuous one. He sent the letters, handsomely sealed up, back again, without any answer; and there finished for ever, our correspondence, unless he should renew it.

I am ashamed of saying so much about these men and myself, where I could find much better subjects, and some, perhaps, of entertainment; but it is necessary to shew how very proper it is for a stranger to take with him letters of recommendation when he travels, not only to other kingdoms, but to every city where he proposes to reside, even for a short time; for, as Mr. Wombwell justly observed, when I have a letter of recommendation from my friend, or correspondent, I can have no doubt who the bearer is; and I had rather take that recommendation than Bank notes.—I confess, that merchants cannot be too cautious and circumspect; I can, and do forgive Mr. Curtoys, for reasons he shall shew you under his own hand: but I have too good an opinion of Mr. Wombwell's perception to so readily forget his shrewd reprisals; though I must, I cannot refrain from telling you what a flattering thing he said to me: I had shewn him a printed paper, signed Junius; said he, "If you wrote this, you may be, for aught I know, really JUNIUS." I assured him that I was not; for being in Spain, and out of the reach of the inquisitorial court of Westminster-Hall, I would instantly avow it, for fear I should die suddenly, and carry that secret, like Mrs. Faulkner, to the grave with me.



LETTER XIX.

BARCELONA.

You will, as I am, be tired of hearing so much about Messrs. Wombwell, Curtoys, Adams, and Co.—but as there are some other persons here, which my last letter must have put you in some pain about, I must renew the subject. I had, you know, some letters of recommendation to the Marquis of Grimaldi, which I had reserved to deliver into his Excellency's hands at Madrid; but which I found necessary to send away by the post, and to request the honour of his Excellency to write to some Spaniard of fashion here, to shew me countenance, and to clear up my suspected character. I accordingly wrote to the Marquis, and sent him my letters of recommendation, but sixteen days was the soonest I could expect an answer. I therefore, in the mean time, wrote myself to the Intendant of Barcelona, a man of sense, and high birth; I told him my name, and that I had letters in my pocket from a Spanish Gentleman of fashion, whom he knew, which would convince him who I was, and desired leave to wait upon him. The Intendant fixed six o'clock the same evening. I was received, and conducted into his apartment, for he was ill, by one of his daughters; the only woman I had seen in Barcelona that had either beauty or breeding;—this young Lady had both in a high degree. After shewing my letters, and having conversed a little with the Intendant, a Lady with a red face, and a nose as big as a brandy bottle, accosted me in English: "Behold, Sir, (said she) your countrywoman." This was Madam O'Reilly, wife to the Governor of Monjuique Castle, and brother to the Gentleman of that name, so well known, and so amply provided for, by the late and present King of Spain. She was very civil, and seemed sensible. Her husband, the Governor, soon after came in, and the whole family smiled upon me. I then began to think I should escape both goal and inquisition. Mrs. O'Reilly visited my family. Mr. O'Reilly borrowed a house for me, and a charming one too; I say borrowed it, for no Spaniard letts his house; I was only to make him some recompense for his politeness and generosity. The Intendant even sent Gov. O'Reilly to know why Mr. Curtoys had not presented me, on the court-day, to the Captain-General. Mr. Consul Curtoys was obliged to give his reasons in person; had they been true, they were good: the Intendant accepted them, and said he would present me himself. Things seemed now to take a favourable turn: Mr. Curtoys visited me on his way back from the Intendant's; assured me he had told him that I was a man of character, and an honest man; and that though he could not see me as Consul Curtoys, he should be glad to see me as Merchant Curtoys. On the other hand, the Marquis of Grimaldi, with the politeness of a minister, and the feelings of humanity, wrote me a very flattering letter indeed, and sent it by a special courier, who came in four days from Madrid. Now, thought I, a fig for your Wombwells, Curtoys, &c. The first minister's favour, and the shining countenance of Madam O'Reilly, must carry me through every thing. But alas! it was quite otherwise;—the courier who brought my letter had directions to deliver it into my own hands; but either by his blunder, or Madam O'Reilly's, I did not get it till nine hours after it arrived, and then from the hands of Madam O'Reilly's servant. The contents of this letter were soon known: the favour of the minister at Madrid did not shine upon me at the Court of Barcelona! I visited Madam O'Reilly, who looked at me,—if I may use such a coarse expression,—"like God's revenge against murder." I could not divine what I had done, or what omitted to do. I could get no admittance at the Intendant's, neither. I proposed going to Montserrat, and asked my fair countrywoman for a letter to one of the monks; but—she knew nobody there, not she:—Why then, madam, said I, perhaps I had better go back to France:—Oh! but, says she, perhaps the Marquis of Grimaldi will not let you; adding, that the laws of France and Spain were very different.—But, pray, madam, said I, what have the laws of either kingdom to do with me, while I violate none of them? I am a citizen of the world, and consequently free in every country.—Now, Sir, to decypher all this, which I did by the help of some characters an honest Spaniard gave me:—Why, says he, they say you are a great Captain; that you have had an attention shewn you by the Marquis of Grimaldi, which none of the O'Reilly's ever obtained; and they are afraid that you are come here to take the eldest brother's post from him, and that you are to command the troops upon the second expedition to Algiers; for every body is much dissatisfied with his conduct on the first; adding, that the Spaniards do not love him.—I told him, that might arise from his being a stranger; but I had been well assured, and I firmly believed it, that he is a gallant, an able, and a good officer; but, said I, that cannot be the reason of so much shyness in the Intendant, even if it does raise any uneasiness in the O'Reilly's family:—Yes, said he, it does; for the Captain-General O'Reilly is married lately to one of the Intendant's daughters. So you see here was another mine sprung under me; and I determined to set out in a day or two for Montserrat. I had but one card more to play, and that was to carry the open letter I had to the French Consul, and which, I forgot to tell you, I had shewn to the acute, discerning, and sagacious merchant Wombwell. It was written by Madame de Maigny, the Lady of the Chevalier de Maigny, of the regiment d'Artois, one of the Gentlemen with whom I had eat that voluptuous supper in company at Pont St. Esprit; but, as Mr. Wombwell shrewdly observed, my name was not even mentioned in that letter, it was the bearer only who was recommended; and how could that Lady, any more than Mr. Wombwell, tell, but that I had murdered the first bearer, and robbed him of his recommendatory letter, and dressed myself in his scarlet and gold-laced coat, to practise the same wicked arts upon their lives and fortunes?

Now, you will naturally wish to know how Sir Thomas Gascoyne, my vis-a-vis neighbour in the same Hotel, conducted himself. I had, before all this fuss, eat, drank, and conversed with him: he is a sensible, genteel, well-bred man; and there was with him Mr. Swinburne, who was equally agreeable: no wonder, therefore, if I endeavoured to cultivate an acquaintance with two such men, so much superior, in all respects, to what the town afforded. Sir Thomas, however, became rather reserved; perhaps not more so than good policy made necessary for a man who was only just entering upon a grand tour through the whole kingdom, from Barcelona to Cadiz, Madrid, &c. &c. I perceived this shyness, but did not resent it, because I could not censure it. He had no suspicion of me at first; and if he had afterwards, I could not tell what circumstances might have been urged against me; and I considered, that if a man of his fortune and figure could have been suspected, there was much reason for him to join with others in suspecting me.

The Moor, it seems, who had put off the counterfeit bank notes, had been advertised in all the foreign papers; his person was particularly described; and as application had been made to the Courts of France and Spain, to stop the career of such a villain, the Governor of Barcelona had, upon Sir Thomas Gascoyne's first arrival, stopped him, and sent for the Consul, verily believing he had got the offender. The Moor was described as a short, plump, black man; and as Sir Thomas has black eyes, and is rather en bon point, the plain, honest Governor had not discernment enough to see that ease and good breeding in Sir Thomas, which no Moor, however well he may imitate Bank notes, can counterfeit. But as Sir Thomas had letters of credit upon Mr. Curtoys, which ascertained his person and rank, this adventure became a laughable one to him. It is, indeed, from his mouth I relate it, though, perhaps, not with all the circumstances he told me.—Now, had my person tallied as well as Sir Thomas's did with that of the itinerant Moor, I should certainly have been in one of the round towers, which stick pretty thick in the walls of the fortification of this town.

You will tremble—I assure you, I do—when I think of another escape I had; and I will tell you how:—The day after I left Cette, I came to a spot where the roads divide; here I asked two men, which was mine to Narbonne? one of them answered me in English; he was a shabby, but genteel-looking young man, said he came from Italy, and was going to Barcelona; that he had been defrauded of his money at Venice by a parcel of sharpers, and was going to Spain to get a passage to Holland, of which country he was a native; he was then in treaty, he said, with the other man to sell him a pair of breeches, to furnish him with money to carry him on; and as I had no servant at that time, he earnestly intreated me to take him into my service: I would not do that, you may be sure; but lest he might be an unfortunate man, like myself, I told him, if he could contrive to lie at the inns I did, I would pay for his bed and supper. He accepted an offer, I soon became very sorry I had made; and when we arrived at Perpignan, I gave him a little money to proceed, but absolutely forbad him either to walk near my chaise, or to sleep at the same inns I did; for as I knew him not, he should not enter into another kingdom as one in my suite; and I saw no more of him till some days after my arrival at Barcelona, where he accosted me in a better habit, and shewed me some real, or counterfeit gold he had got, he said, of a friend who knew his father at Amsterdam. He was a bold, daring fellow; and it was with some difficulty I could prevail upon him not to walk cheek by jole with me along the ramparts.

Soon after this I was informed, that a fine-dressed, little black-eyed man was arrived in a bark from Italy. This man proved to be, as Mr. Curtoys informed me, the very Moor whom Sir Thomas Gascoyne was suspected to be: he was apprehended, and committed to one of the round towers. But what will you say, or what would have been my lot, had I taken the other man into my service?—for the minute my white man, for he was a whitish Moor, saw the black one arrive, he decamped; they were afraid of each other, and both wanted to escape; my man went off on foot; the black man was apprehended, while he was in treaty with the master of the same bark he came in, to carry him to some other sea-port. Now had I come in with such a servant, and with my suspected Bank notes, without letters of credit, or recommendation; had the Moor arrived, who is the real culprit, and who had been connected with my man, what would have become of his master, your unfortunate humble servant?—I doubt the abilities of his Britannic Majesty's Consul would not have been able to have divided our degrees of guilt properly; and that I should have experienced but little charity on my straw bed, from the humanity of Mr. Wombwell. However, I had still one card more to play to reinforce my purse; it was one, I thought could not fail, and the money was nearer home:—I had lent, while I was at Calais, thirty guineas to a French officer, for no other reason but because he wanted it: I knew the man; and as he promised to pay me in three months, and as that time was expired, I applied to Mr. Harris, a Scotch merchant, at his house at Barcelona, on whom the London Bankers of the same name give letters of credit to travellers. I begged the favour of him to send the note to his correspondents at Paris, and to procure the money for me, and when it was paid, that he would give it to me at Barcelona; but Mr. Harris too, begged to be excused: he started some difficulties, but at length did give me a receipt for the note, and promised, reluctantly enough, to send it. I began now to think that I should starve indeed. Every article of life is high in Spain, and my purse was low. I therefore wrote to Mr. Curtoys, to know if he had any tidings of the Bank bills; for I had immediately wrote to Messrs. Hoare, to beg the favour of them to send Mr. Curtoys the numbers of those which I received at their house; and they very politely informed me, they had so done. Mr. Consul Curtoys favoured me with the following answer:

"Mr. Curtoys presents his compliments to Mr. Thicknesse; no ways doubts the Bank bills to be good, from London this post under the 24th past, they accuse receipt thereof, &c. Barcelona, 12th of December, 1775."

As Mr. Curtoys's correspondent had accused receipt thereof, I thought I might too, and accordingly I went and desired my money. The cashier was sick, they said, and I was desired to call again the next morning, when he would be much better;—I did so, and received my money; and shall set off immediately for Montserrat, singing, and saying what I do not exactly agree to; but, being at Rome, I would do as they do there: I therefore taught my children to repeat the following Spanish proverb:

"Barcelonaes Bueno, Si la Bolsa fueno; Sueno o no fueno; Barcelonaes Bueno."

I will not translate what, I am sure, you will understand the sense of much better than you will think I experienced the truth. I hope, however, to have done with my misfortunes; for I am going to visit a spot inhabited by virtuous and retired men; a place, according to all reports, cut out by nature for such who are able to sequester themselves from all worldly concerns; and from such strangers as they are I am sure I shall meet with more charity for they deal in nothing else than I met with humanity or politeness at Barcelona.

P.S. I should have told you, that before Sir Thomas Gascoyne left this town, he sent a polite message, to desire to take leave of me and my family: I therefore waited upon him; and as he proposed visiting Gibraltar, I troubled him with a letter to my son, then on that duty; and was sorry soon after to find that my son had left the garrison before Sir Thomas could arrive at it. If you ask me how Sir Thomas Gascoyne ventured to make so great a tour through a country so aukwardly circumstanced for travellers in general, and strangers in particular, I can only say, that when I saw him he had but just began his long journey, and that he had every advantage which religion and fortune could give him. I had none: he travelled with two coaches, two sets of horses, two saddle mules, and was protected by a train of servants. I had religion, (but it was a bad one in that country) and only one footman, who strictly maintained his character, for he always walked. Indeed, it is the fashion of all Spanish gentlemen to be followed by their servant on foot. I therefore travelled like a Spaniard; Sir Thomas like an Englishman. The whole city of Barcelona was in an uproar the morning Sir Thomas's two coaches set off; and I heard, with concern, that they both broke down before they got half way to Valencia; but, with pleasure, by a polite letter soon after from Mr. Swinburne, that they got so far in perfect health.

I am, dear Sir, &c.

P.S. Before I quit Barcelona, it will be but just to say, that it is a good city, has a fine mole, and a noble citadel, beside Monjuique, a strong fort, which stands on a high hill, and which commands the town as well as the harbour. The town is very large and strongly fortified, stands in a large plain, and is encompassed with a semi-circular range of high hills, rather than mountains, which form un coup-d'oeil, that is very pleasing, as not only the sides of the hills are adorned with a great number of country houses, but the plain also affords a great many, beside several little villages. The roads too near the town are very good. As to the city itself, it is rather well built in general, than abounding with any particular fine buildings. The Inquisition has nothing to boast of now, either within or without, having (fortunately for the public) lost a great part of its former power: it, however, still keeps an awe upon all who live within its verge. I never saw a town in which trade is carried on with more spirit and industry; the indolent disposition of the Spaniards of Castile, and other provinces, has not extended ever into this part of Spain. They have here a very fine theatre; but those who perform upon the stage are the refuse of the people, and are too bad to be called by the name of actors. They have neither libraries nor pictures worthy of much notice, though they boast of one or two paintings in their churches by natives of the town, Francois Guirro, and John Arnau. In the custom-house hangs a full-length of the present King, so execrable, that one would wonder it was not put, with the painter, into the Inquisition, as a libel on royalty and the arts. I am told, at La Fete Dieu there are some processions of the most ridiculous nature. The fertility of the earth in and about the town is wonderful; the minute one crop is off the earth, another is put in; no part of the year puts a stop to vegetation. In the coldest weather, the market abounds with a great variety of the choicest flowers; yet their sweets cannot over-power the intolerable smell which salt fish, and stinking fish united, diffuse over all that part of the city; and rich as the inhabitants are, you will see the legs, wings, breasts, and entrails of fowls, in the market, cut up as joints of meat are in other countries, to be sold separately: nor could I find in this great city either oil, olives, or wine, that were tolerable. I paid a guinea a day at the Fontain d'Or for my table; yet every thing was so dirty, that I always made my dinner from the dessert; nor was there any other place but the stable of this dirty inn to put up my horse, where I paid twelve livres a week for straw only; and whoever lodges at this inn, must pay five shillings a day for their dinner, whether they dine there or not.

Catalonia is undoubtedly the best cultivated, the richest, and most industrious province, or principality, in Spain; and the King, who has the SUN FOR HIS HAT, (for it always shines in some part of his dominions) has nothing to boast of, equal to Catalonia.

As I have almost as much abhorrence to the Moors, as even the Spaniards themselves, (having visited that coast two or three times, many years ago) you may be sure I was grieved to meet, every time I went out, so many maimed and wounded officers and soldiers, who were not long returned from the unsuccessful expedition to Algiers. There are no troops in the world more steady than the Spaniards; it was not for want of bravery they miscarried, but there was some sad mismanagement; and had the Moors followed their blows, not a man of them would have returned. My servant, (a French deserter) who was upon that expedition, says, Gen. O'Reilly was the first who landed, and the last who embarked;—but it is the HEAD, not the arm of a commander in chief, which is most wanted. The Moors at le point du jour, advanced upon the Spaniards behind a formidable masked and moving battery of camels: the Spaniards, believing them, by a faint light, to be cavalry, expended a great part of their strength, spirits, and ammunition, upon those harmless animals; and it was not till this curtain was removed that the dreadful carnage began, in which they lost about nine thousand men. There seems to have been some strange mismanagement; it seems probable that there was no very good understanding between the marine and the land officers. The fleet were many days before the town, and then landed just where the Moors expected they would land. There is nothing so difficult, so dangerous, nor so liable to miscarriage, as the war of invading: our troops experienced it at St. Cas; and they either have, or will experience it in America. The wild negroes in Jamaica, to whom Gov. Trelawney wisely gave, what they contended for, (LIBERTY) were not above fifteen hundred fit to bear arms. I was in several skirmishes with them, and second in command under Mr. Adair's brother, a valiant young man who died afterwards in the field, who made peace with them; yet I will venture to affirm, that though five hundred disciplined troops would have subdued them in an open country, the united force of France and England could not have extirpated them from their fast holds in the mountains. Did not a Baker battle and defeat two Marshals of France in the Cevennes? And is it probable, that all the fleets and armies of Great-Britain can conquer America?—England may as well attempt moving that Continent on this side the Atlantic.



LETTER XX.

MONTSERRAT.

I never left any place with more secret satisfaction than I did Barcelona; exclusive of the entertainment I was prepared to expect, by visiting this holy mountain; nor have I been disappointed; but on the contrary, found it, in every respect, infinitely superior to the various accounts I had heard of it;—to give a perfect description of it is impossible;—to do that it would require some of those attributes which the Divine Power by whose almighty handy it was raised, is endowed with. It is called Montserrat, or Mount-Scie,[C] by the Catalonians, words which signify a cut or sawed mountain; and so called from its singular and extraordinary form; for it is so broken, so divided, and so crowned with an infinite number of spiring cones, or PINE heads, that it has the appearance, at distant view, to be the work of man; but upon a nearer approach, to be evidently raised by HIM alone, to whom nothing is impossible. It looks, indeed, like the first rude sketch of GOD's work; but the design is great, and the execution such, that it compels all men who approach it, to lift up their hands and eyes to heaven, and to say,—Oh GOD!—HOW WONDERFUL ARE ALL THY WORKS!

[C] The arms of the Abbey are—A saw in the middle of a rock.

It is no wonder then, that such a place should be fixed upon for the residence of holy and devout men; for there is not surely upon the habitable globe a spot so properly adapted for retirement and contemplation; it has therefore, for many ages, been inhabited only by monks and hermits, whose first vow is, never to forsake it;—a vow, without being either a hermit or a monk, I could make, I think, without repenting.

If it be true, and some great man has said so, that "whosoever delighteth in solitude, is either a wild beast, or a God;" the inhabitants of this spot are certainly more than men; for no wild beast dwells here. But it is the place, not the people, I mean at present to speak of. It stands in a vast plain, seven leagues they call it, but it is at least thirty miles from Barcelona, and nearly in the center of the principality of Catalonia. The height of it is so very considerable, that in one hour's slow travelling towards it, after we left Barcelona, it shewed its pointed steeples, high over the lesser mountains, and seemed so very near, that it would have been difficult to have persuaded a person, not accustomed to such deceptions, in so clear an atmosphere to believe, that we had much more than an hour's journey to arrive at it; instead of which, we were all that day in getting to Martorel, a small city, still three leagues distant from it, where we lay at the Three Kings, a pretty good inn, kept by an insolent imposing Italian. Martorel stands upon the steep banks of the river Lobregate, over which there is a modern bridge, of a prodigious height, the piers of which rest on the opposite shore, against a Roman triumphal arch of great solidity, and originally of great beauty. I think I tell you the truth when I say, that I could perceive the convent, and some of the hermitages, when I first saw the mountain, at above twenty miles distance. From Martorel, however, they were as visible as the mountain itself, to which the eye was directed, down the river, the banks of which were adorned with trees, villages, houses, &c. and the view terminated by this the most glorious monument in nature. When I first saw the mountain, it had the appearance of an infinite number of rocks cut into conical forms, and built one upon another to a prodigious height. Upon a nearer view, each cone appeared of itself a mountain; and the tout ensemble compose an enormous mass of the Lundus Helmonti, or plumb-pudding stone, fourteen miles in circumference, and what the Spaniards call two leagues in height. As it is like unto no other mountain, so it stands quite unconnected with any, though not very distant from some very lofty ones. Near the base of it, on the south side, are two villages, the largest of which is Montrosol; but my eyes were attracted by two ancient towers, which flood upon a hill near Colbaton, the smallest, and we drove to that, where we found a little posada, and the people ready enough to furnish us with mules and asses, for we were now become quite impatient to visit the hallowed and celebrated convent, De Neustra Senora; a convent, to which pilgrims resort from the furthest parts of Europe, some bearing, by way of penance, heavy bars of iron on their backs, others cutting and slashing their naked bodies with wire cords, or crawling to it on all-fours, like the beasts of the field, to obtain forgiveness of their sins, by the intercession of our Lady of Montserrat.

When we had ascended a steep and rugged road, about one hour, and where there was width enough, and the precipices not too alarming, to give our eyes the utmost liberty, we had an earnest of what we were to expect above, as well as the extensive view below; our impatience to see more was encreased by what we had already seen; the majestic convent opened to us a view of her venerable walls; some of the hermits' cells peeped over the broken precipices still higher; while we, glutted with astonishment, and made giddy with delight and amazement, looked up at all with a reverential awe, towards that God who raised the PILES, and the holy men who dwell among them.—Yes, Sir,—we caught the holy flame; and I hope we came down better, if not wiser, than we went up. After ascending full two hours and a half more, we arrived on a flat part on the side, and about the middle of the mountain, on which the convent is built; but even that flat was made so by art, and at a prodigious expence. Here, however, was width enough to look securely about us; and, good God! what an extensive field of earth, air, and sea did it open! the ancient towers, which at first attracted my notice near Colbaton, were dwindled into pig-sties upon a mounticule. At length, and a great length it was, we arrived at the gates of the Sanctuary; on each side of which, on high pedestals, stand the enormous statues of two saints; and nearly opposite, on the base of a rock, which leans in a frightful manner over the buildings, and threatens destruction to all below, a great number of human sculls are fixed in the form of a cross. Within the gate is a square cloister, hung round with paintings of the miracles performed by the Holy Virgin, with votive offerings, &c. It was Advent week, when none of the monks quit their apartments, but one whose weekly duty it was to attend the call of strangers; nor did the whole community afford but a single member (pere tendre, a Fleming) who could speak French. It was Pere Pascal, by whom we were shewn every mark of politeness and attention, which a man of the world could give, but administered with all that humility and meekness, so becoming a man who had renounced it. He put us in possession of a good room, with good beds; and as it was near night, and very cold, he ordered a brazier of red-hot embers into our apartment; and having sent for the cook of the strangers' kitchen, (for there are four public kitchens) and ordered him to obey our commands, he retired to evening vespers; after which he made us a short visit, and continued to do so, two or three times every day, while we staid. Indeed, I began to fear we staid too long, and told him so; but he assured me the apartment was ours for a month or two, if we pleased. During our stay, he admitted me into his apartments, and filled my box with delicious Spanish snuff, and shewed us every attention we would wish, and much more than, as unrecommended strangers, we could expect. All the poor who come here are fed gratis for three days, and all the sick received in the hospital. Sometimes, on particular festivals, seven thousand arrive in one day; but people of condition pay a reasonable price for what they eat. There was before our apartment a long covered gallery; and tho' we were in a deep recess of the rocks, which projected wide and high on our right and left, we had in front a most extensive view of the world below, and the more distant Mediterranean Sea. It was a moon-light night; and, in spite of the cold, it was impossible to be shut out of the enchanting lights and shades which her silver beams reflected on the rude rocks above, beneath, and on all sides of us.—Every thing was as still as death, till the sonorous convent bell warned the Monks to midnight prayer. At two o'clock, we heard some of the tinkling bells of the hermits' cells above give notice, that they too were going to their devotion at the appointed hour: after which I retired to my bed; but my mind was too much awakened to permit me to sleep; I was impatient for the return of day-light, that I might proceed still higher; for, miser like, tho' my coffers were too full, I coveted more; and accordingly, after breakfast, we eagerly set our feet to the first round of the hermit's ladder; it was a stone one indeed, but stood in all places dreadfully steep, and in many almost perpendicular. After mounting up a vast chasm in the rock, yet full of trees and shrubs, about a thousand paces, fatigued in body, and impatient for a safe resting place, we arrived at a small hole in the rock, through which we were glad to crawl; and having got to the secure side of it, prepared ourselves, by a little rest, to proceed further; but not, I assure you, without some apprehensions, that if there was no better road down, we must have become hermits. After a second clamber, not quite so dreadful as the first, but much longer, we got into some flowery and serpentine walks, which lead to two or three of the nearest hermitages then visible, and not far off, one of which hung over so horrible a precipice, that it was terrifyingly picturesque. We were now, however, I thought, certainly in the garden of Eden! Certain I am, Eden could not be more beautifully adorned; for God alone is the gardener here also; and consequently, every thing prospered around us which could gratify the eye, the nose and, the imagination.

"Profuse the myrtle spread unfading boughs, Expressive emblem of eternal vows."

For the myrtle, the eglantine, the jessamin, and all the smaller kind of aromatic shrubs and flowers, grew on all sides thick and spontaneously about us; and our feet brushed forth the sweets of the lavender, rosemary and thyme, till we arrived at the first, and peaceful hermitage of Saint Tiago. We took possession of the holy inhabitants little garden, and were charmed with the neatness, and humble simplicity, which in every part characterised the possessor. His little chapel, his fountain, his vine arbor, his stately cypress, and the walls of his cell, embraced on all sides with ever-greens, and adorned with flowers, rendered it, exclusive of its situation, wonderfully pleasing. His door, however, was fast, and all within was silent; but upon knocking, it was opened by the venerable inhabitant: he was cloathed in a brown cloth habit, his beard was very long, his face pale, his manners courteous; but he seemed rather too deeply engaged in the contemplation of the things of the next world, to lose much of his time with such things as us. We therefore, after peeping into his apartments, took his benediction, and he retired, leaving us all his worldly possessions, but his straw bed, his books, and his beads. This hermitage is confined between two pine heads, within very narrow bounds; but it is artfully fixed, and commands at noon day a most enchanting prospect to the East and to the North. Though it is upwards of two thousand three hundred paces from the convent, yet it hangs so directly over it, that the rocks convey not only the sound of the organ, and the voices of the monks singing in the choir, but you may hear men in common conversation from the piazza below.

This is a long letter; but I know you would not willingly have left me in the midst of danger, or before I was safe arrived at the first stage towards heaven, and seen one humble host on GOD's high road.

P.S. At two o'clock, after midnight, these people rise, say mass, and continue the remainder of the night in prayer and contemplation. The hermits tell you, it was upon high mountains that God chose to manifest his will:—fundamenta ejus in montibus sanctis, say they;—they consider these rocks as symbols of their penitence, and mortifications; and their being so beautifully covered with fine flowers, odoriferous and rare plants, as emblems of the virtue and innocence of the religious inhabitants; or how else, say they, could such rocks produce spontaneously flowers in a desart, which surpass all that art and nature combined can do, in lower and more favourable soils? They may well think so; for human reason cannot account for the manner by which such enormous quantities of trees, fruits, and flowers are nourished, seemingly without soil. But that which established a church and convent on this mountain, was the story of a hermit who resided here many years; this was Juan Guerin, who lived on this mountain alone, the austerity of whose life was such, that the people below believed he subsisted without eating or drinking. As some very extraordinary circumstances attended this man's life, all which are universally believed here, it may not be amiss to give you some account of him:—You must know, Sir, then, that the devil envying the happiness of this good man equipped himself in the habit of a hermit, and possessed himself of a cavern in the same mountain, which still bears the name of the Devil's Grot; after which he took occasion to throw himself in the way of poor Guerin, to whom he expressed his surprize at seeing one of his own order dwell in a place he thought an absolute desert; but thanked God, for giving him so fortunate a meeting. Here the devil, and Guerin became very intimate, and conversed much together on spiritual matters; and things went on well enough between them for a while, when another devil chum to the first, possessed the body of a certain Princess, daughter of a Count of Barcelona, who became thereby violently tormented with horrible convulsions. She was taken to the church by her afflicted father. The daemon who possessed her, and who, spoke for her, said, that nothing could relieve her from her sufferings but the prayers of a devout and pious hermit, named Guerin, who dwelt on Montserrat. The father, therefore, immediately repaired to Guerin, and besought his prayers and intercession for the recovery of his daughter. It so happened (for so the devil would have it) that this business could not be perfectly effected in less than nine days; and that the Princess must be left that time alone with Guerin in his cave. Poor Guerin, conscious of his frail nature, opposed this measure with all his might; but there was no resisting the argument and influence of the devil, and she was accordingly left. Youth, beauty, a cave, solitude, and virgin modesty, were too powerful not to overcome even the chaste vows and pious intentions of poor Guerin. The devil left the virgin, and possessed the saint. He consulted his false friend, and told him how powerful this impure passion was become, and his intentions of flying from the danger; but the devil advised him to return to his cell, and pray to God to protect him from sin. Guerin took his council, returned and fell into the fatal snare. The devil then persuaded him to kill the Princess, in order to conceal his guilt, and to tell her father she had forsaken his abode while he was intent on prayer. Guerin did so; but became very miserable, and at length determined to make a pilgrimage to Rome, to obtain a remission of his complicated crimes. The Pope enjoined him to return to Montserrat, on all fours, and to continue in that state, without once looking up to heaven, for the space of seven years, or 'till a child of three months old told him, his sins were forgiven: all which Guerin chearfully complied with, and accordingly crawled back to the defiled mountain.

Soon after the expiration of the seven years Count Vifroy, the father of the murdered Princess, was hunting on the mountain of Montserrat, and passing near Guerin's cave, the dogs entered, and the servant seeing a hideous figure concluded they had found the wild beast they were in pursuit of: they informed the Count of what they had seen, who gave directions to secure the beast alive, which was accordingly done; for he was so over-grown with hair, and so deformed in shape, that they had no idea of the creature being human. He was therefore kept in the Count's stable at Barcelona, and shewn to his visitors as a wonderful and singular wild beast. During this time, while a company were examining this extraordinary animal, a nurse with a young child in her arms looked upon it, and the child after fixing his eyes stedfastly for a few minutes on Guerin, said, "Guerin, rise, thy sins are forgiven thee!"—Guerin instantly rose, threw himself at the Count's feet, confessed the crimes he had been guilty of, and desired to receive the punishment due to them, from the hands of him whom he had so highly injured; but the Count, perceiving that God had forgiven him, forgave him also.

I will not trouble you with all the particulars which attended this miracle; it will be sufficient to say, that the Count and Guerin went to take up the body of the murdered Princess, for burial with her ancestors; but, to their great astonishment found her there alive, possessing the same youth and beauty she had been left with, and no alteration of any kind, but a purple streak about her neck where the cord had been twisted, and wherewith Guerin had strangled her. The father desired her to return to Barcelona; but she was enjoined by the Holy Virgin, she said, to spend her days on that miraculous spot; and accordingly a church and convent was built there, the latter inhabited by Nuns, of which the Princess (who had risen from the dead) was the Abbess. It was called the Abbey des Pucelles, of the order of St. Benoit, and was founded in the year 801. But such a vast concourse of people, of both sexes, resorted to it, from all parts of the world, that at length it was thought prudent to remove the women to a convent at Barcelona, and place a body of Benedictine monks in their place.

Strange as this story is, it is to be seen in the archives of this holy house; and in the street called Condal, at Barcelona, may be seen in the wall of the old palace of the Count's, an ancient figure, cut in stone, which represents the nurse with the child in her arms, and a strange figure, on his knees, at her feet, and that is Friar Guerin.

Now, whether you will believe all this story, or not, I cannot take upon me to say; but I will assure you, that when you visit this spot, it will be necessary to say you do; or you would appear in their eyes a much greater wonder than any thing which I have related, of the Devil, the Friar, the Virgin, and the Count.



LETTER XXI.

The second hermitage, for I give them in the order they are usually visited, is that of St. Catharine, situated in a deep and solitary vale: it however commands a most extensive and pleasing prospect, at noon-day, to the East and West. The buildings, garden, &c. are confined within small limits, being fixed in a most picturesque and secure recess under the foot of one of the high pines. Though this hermit's habitation is the most retired and solitary abode of any, and far removed from the din of men, yet the courteous, affable, and sprightly inhabitant, seems not to feel the loss of human society, though no man, I think, can be a greater ornament to human nature. If he is not much accustomed to hear the voice of men, he is amply recompensed by the notes of birds; for it is their sanctuary as well as his; for no part of the mountain is so well inhabited by the feathered race of beings as this delightful spot. Perhaps indeed, they have sagacity enough to know that there is no other so perfectly secure. Here the nightingale, the blackbird, the linnet, and an infinite variety of little songsters greater strangers to my eyes, than fearful of my hands, dwell in perfect security, and live in the most friendly intimacy with their holy protector, and obedient to his call; for, says the hermit,

"Haste here, ye feather'd race of various song, Bring all your pleasing melody along! O come, ye tender, faithful, plaintive doves, Perch on my hands, and sing your absent loves!"—

When instantly the whole vocal band quit their sprays, and surround the person of their daily benefactor, some settling upon his head, others entangle their feet in his beard, and in the true sense of the word, take his bread even out of his mouth; but it is freely given: their confidence is so great, (for the holy father is their bondsman) that the stranger too partakes of their familiarity and caresses. These hermits are not allowed to keep within their walls either dog, cat, bird, or any living thing, lest their attention should be withdrawn from heavenly to earthly affections. I am sorry to arraign this good man; he cannot be said to transgress the law, but he certainly evades it; for though his feathered band do not live within his walls, they are always attendant upon his court; nor can any prince or princess on earth boast of heads so elegantly plumed, as may be seen at the court of St. Catharine; or of vassals who pay their tributes with half the chearfulness they are given and received by the humble monarch of this sequestered vale. If his meals are scanty, his dessert is served up with a song, and he is hushed to sleep by the nightingale; and when we consider, that he has but few days in the whole year which are inferior to some of our best in the months of May and June, you may easily conceive, that a man who breathes such pure air, who feeds on such light food, whose blood circulates freely from moderate exercise, and whose mind is never ruffled by worldly affairs, whose short sleeps are sweet and refreshing, and who lives confident of finding in death a more heavenly residence; lives a life to be envied, not pitied.—Turn but your eyes one minute from this man's situation, to that of any monarch or minister on earth, and say, on which side does the balance turn?—While some princes may be embruing their hands in the blood of their subjects, this man is offering up his prayers to God to preserve all mankind:—While some ministers are sending forth fleets and armies to wreak their own private vengeance on a brave and uncorrupted people, this solitary man is feeding, from his own scanty allowance, the birds of the air.—Conceive him, in his last hour, upon his straw bed, and see with what composure and resignation he meets it!—Look in the face of a dying king, or a plundering, and blood-thirsty minister,—what terrors the sight of their velvet beds, adorned with crimson plumage, must bring to their affrighted imagination!—In that awful hour, it will remind them of the innocent blood they have spilt;—nay, they will perhaps think, they were dyed with the blood of men scalped and massacred, to support their vanity and ambition!—In short, dear Sir, while kings and ministers are torn to pieces by a thirst after power and riches, and disturbed by a thousand anxious cares, this poor hermit can have but one, i.e. lest he should be removed (as the prior of the convent has a power to do) to some other cell, for that is sometimes done, and very properly.

The youngest and most hardy constitutions are generally put into the higher hermitages, or those to which the access is most difficult; for the air is so fine, in the highest parts of the mountain, that they say it often renders the respiration painful. Nothing therefore can be more reasonable than, that as these good men grow older, and less able to bear the fatigues and inconveniencies the highest abodes unavoidably subject them to, should be removed to more convenient dwellings, and that the younger and stouter men should succeed them.

As the hermits never eat meat, I could not help observing to him, how fortunate a circumstance it was for the safety of his little feathered friends; and that there were no boys to disturb their young, nor any sportsman to kill the parent.—God forbid, said he, that one of them should fall, but by his hands who gave it life!—Give me your hand, said I, and bless me!—I believe it did; but it shortened my visit:—so I stept into the grot, and stole a pound of chocolate upon his stone table, and myself away.

If there is a happy man upon this earth, I have seen that extraordinary man, and here he dwells!—his features, his manners, all his looks and actions, announce it;—yet he had not even a single maravedi in his pocket:—money is as useless to him, as to one of his black-birds.

Within a gun-shot of this remnant of Eden, are the remains of an ancient hermitage, called St. Pedro. While I was there, my hermit followed me; but I too coveted retirement. I had just bought a fine fowling-piece at Barcelona; and when he came, I was availing myself of the hallowed spot, to make my vow never to use it. In truth, dear Sir, there are some sorts of pleasures too powerful for the body to bear, as well as some sort of pain: and here I was wrecked upon the wheel of felicity; and could only say, like the poor criminal who suffered at Dijon,—O God! O God! at every coup.

I was sorry my host did not understand English, nor I Spanish enough, to give him the sense of the lines written in poor Shenstone's alcove.

"O you that bathe in courtlye bliss, "Or toyle in fortune's giddy spheare; "Do not too rashly deeme amisse "Of him that hides contented here.

I forgot the other lines; but they conclude thus:

"For faults there beene in busye life From which these peaceful glennes are free."



LETTER XXII.

I know you will not like to leave St. Catherine's harmonious cell so soon;—nor should I, but that I intend to visit it again. I will therefore conduct you to St. Juan, about four hundred paces distant from it, on the east side of which, you look down a most horrid and frightful precipice,—a precipice, so very tremendous, that I am persuaded there are many people whose imagination would be so intoxicated by looking at it, that they might be in danger of throwing themselves over: I do not know whether you will understand my meaning by saying so; but I have more than once been so bewildered with such alarming coup d'oeil on this mountain, that I began to doubt whether my own powers were sufficient to protect me:—Horses, from sudden fright, will often run into the fire; and man too, may be forced upon his own destruction, to avoid those sensations of danger he has not been accustomed to look upon. Perhaps I am talking non-sense; and you will attribute what I say to lowness of spirits; on the contrary, I had those feelings about me only during the time my eyes were employed upon such frightful objects; for my spirits were enlivened by pure air, exercise, and temperance:—nay, I remember to have been struck in the same manner, when the grand explosion of the fireworks was played off, many years ago, upon the conclusion of peace! The blast was so great, that it appeared as if it were designed to take with it all earthly things; and I felt almost forced by it, and summoned from my seat, and could hardly refrain from jumping over a parapet wall which stood before me. The building of this hermitage, however, is very secure; nothing can shake or remove it, but that which must shake or remove the whole mountain. At this cell, small as it is, King Philip the Third dined on the eleventh of July 1599;—a circumstance, you may be sure, the inhabitant will never forget, or omit to mention. It commands at noon-day a fine prospect eastward, and is approached by a good stage of steps. Not far from it, on the road side, is a little chapel called St. Michael, a chapel as ancient as the monastery itself; and a little below is the grotto, in which the image of the Virgin, now fixed in the high altar of the church, was found. The entrance of this grotto is converted into a chapel, where mass is said every day by one of the monks. All the hermitages, even the smallest, have their little chapel, the ornaments for saying mass, their water cistern, and most of them a little garden. The building consists of one or two little chambers, a little refectory, and a kitchen; but many of them have every convenience within and without that a single man can wish or desire, except he should wish for or desire such things as he was obliged to renounce when he took possession of it.

From hence, by a road more wonderful than safe or pleasing, you are led on a ridge of mountains to the lofty cell of St. Onofre. It stands in a cleft in one of the pine heads, six and thirty feet (I was going to say) above the earth; its appearance is indeed astonishing, for it seems in a manner hanging in the air; the access to it is by a ladder of sixty steps, extremely difficult to ascend, and even then you have a wooden bridge to cross, fixed from rock to rock, under which is an aperture of so terrifying an appearance, that I still think a person, not over timid, may find it very difficult to pass over, if he looks under, without losing in some degree that firmness which is necessary to his own preservation. The best and safest way is, to look forward at the building or object you are going to.—Fighting, and even courage, is mechanical; a man may be taught it as readily as any other science; and I would pit the little timid hermit of St. Onofre to a march, on the margin of the precipices on this mountain, against the bravest general we have in America. The man that would not wince at the whistle of a cannon-ball over his head, may find his blood retire, and his senses bewildered, at a dreadful precipice under his feet. St. Onofre possesses no more space than what is covered in by the tiling, nor any prospect but to the South. The inhabitant of it says, he often sees the islands of Minorca, Mallorca, and Ivica, and the kingdoms of Valencia and Murcia. The weather was extremely fine when I visited it, but there was a distant haziness which prevented my seeing those islands; indeed, my eyes were better employed and entertained in examining objects more interesting, as well as more pleasing. Going from this hermitage, you have a view of the vale of St. Mary, formerly called la Vallee Amere, through which the river Lobregate runs, and which divides the bishoprick of Barcelona from that of De Vic.