A saloon in the highest style of oriental decoration.--Amusing
stories of King John the Fifth and his recluses.--Cheerful
funeral.--Refreshing ramble to the heights of Penha Verde.
August 29th, 1787.
It was furiously hot, and I trifled away the whole morning in my
pavilion, surrounded by fidalgos in flowered bed-gowns, and musicians in
violet-coloured accoutrements, with broad straw-hats, like bonzes or
talapoins, looking as sunburnt, vacant, and listless, as the inhabitants
of Ormus or Bengal; so that my company as well as my apartment wore the
most decided oriental appearance: the divan raised a few inches above
the floor, the gilt trellis-work of the windows, and the pellucid
streams of water rising from a tank immediately beneath them, supplied
in endless succession by springs from the native rock.
An agreeable variety prevails in my Asiatic saloon; half its curtains
admit no light, and display the richest folds; the other half are
transparent, and cast a mild glow on the mat and sofas. Large clear
mirrors multiply this profusion of drapery, and several of my guests
seemed never tired of running from corner to corner, to view the
different groups of objects reflected on all sides in the most
unexpected directions, as if they fancied themselves admitted by
enchantment to peep into a labyrinth of magic chambers.
One of the party, a very shrewd old Italian priest, who had left his
native land before the too-famous earthquake shook more than the half of
Lisbon to its foundations, told me he remembered an apartment a good
deal in this style, that is to say, bedecked with mirrors and curtains,
in a sort of fairy palace communicating with the Nunnery of Odivellas,
so famous for the pious retirement of that paragon of splendour and
holiness, King John the Fifth. These were delightful days for the
monarch and the fair companions of his devotions.
“Oh!” said the old priest very judiciously, “of what avail is the finest
cage without birds to enliven it? Had you but heard the celestial
harmony of King John’s recluses, you would never have sat down contented
in your fine tent with the squalling of sopranos and the grumbling of
bass-viols. The silver, virgin tones I allude to, proceeding from the
holy recess into which no other male mortal except the monarch was ever
allowed to penetrate, had an effect I still remember with ecstasy,
though at the distance of so many years. Four of our finest singers, two
from Venice and two from Naples, attracted by a truly regal munificence,
added all that the most consummate taste and science could give to the
best voices in Portugal; the result was perfection.”
Aguilar, who came to dine with us, and whose mother, when in the bloom
of youth and beauty, had been not unfrequently invited to act the part
of perhaps more than audience at these edifying parties, confirmed all
the wonders the old Italian narrated, and added not a few of the same
gold and ruby colour in a strain so extravagantly enthusiastic, that
were I to repeat even half the glittering anecdotes he favoured me with,
upon the subject of Don John the Fifth’s unbounded fervour and
magnificence, your imagination would be completely dazzled.
Just as we had removed from the dinner to the dessert-table, which was
spread out upon a terrace fronting the principal alley of the gardens,
entered the abade Xavier, in full cry, with a rapturous story of the
conversion of an old consumptive Englishwoman, who, it seems, finding
herself upon the eve of departure, had called for a priest, to whom she
might confess, and abjure her errors of every description. Happening to
lodge at the Cintra inn, kept by a most flaming Irish Catholic, her
commendable desires were speedily complied with, and Mascarenhas and
Acciaoli, and two or three other priests and monsignors, summoned to
further the good work.
“Great,” said the abade, “are our rejoicings upon the occasion. This
very evening the aged innocent is to be buried in triumph: Marialva, San
Lorenzo, Asseca, and several more of the principal nobility are already
assembled to grace the festival; suppose you were to come with me and
join the procession?”
“With all my heart,” did I reply; “although I have no great taste for
funerals, so gay a one as this you talk of may form an exception.”
Off we set, driving as fast as most excellent mules could carry us, lest
we should come too late for the entertainment. A great mob was assembled
before the door. At one of the windows stood the grand prior, looking as
if he wished himself a thousand leagues away, and reciting his breviary.
I went up-stairs, and was immediately surrounded by the old Conde de San
Lorenzo and other believers, overflowing with congratulations.
Mascarenhas, one of the soundest limbs of the patriarchal establishment,
a capital devotee and seraphic doctor, was introduced to me. Acciaoli,
whom I was before acquainted with, skipped about the room, rubbing his
hands for joy, with a cunning leer on his jovial countenance, and
snapping his fingers at Satan, as much as to say, “I don’t care a d----
n for you. We have got one at least safe out of your clutches, and clear
at this very moment of the smoke of your cauldron.”
There was such a bustle in the interior apartment where the wretched
corpse was deposited, such a chaunting and praying, for not a tongue
was idle, that my head swam round, and I took refuge by the grand prior.
He by no means relished the party, and kept shrugging up his shoulders,
and saying that it was very edifying--very edifying indeed, and that
Acciaoli had been extremely alert, extremely active, and deserved great
commendation, but that so much fuss might as well have been spared.
By some hints that dropped, I won’t say from whom, I discovered the
innocent now on the high road to eternal felicity by no means to have
suffered the cup of joy to pass by untasted in this existence, and to
have lived many years on a very easy footing, not only with a stout
English bachelor, but with several others, married and unmarried, of his
particular acquaintance. However, she had taken a sudden tack upon
finding herself driven apace down the tide of a rapid consumption, and
had been fairly towed into port by the joint efforts of the Irish
hostess and the monsignori Mascarenhas and Acciaoli.
“Thrice happy Englishwoman,” exclaimed M--a, “what luck is thine! In
the next world immediate admission to paradise, and in this thy body
will have the proud distinction of being borne to the grave by men of
the highest rank.--Was there ever such felicity?”
The arrival of a band of priests and sacristans, with tapers lighted and
cross erected, called us to the scene of action. The procession being
marshalled, the corpse, dressed in virgin-white, lying snug in a sort of
rose-coloured bandbox with six silvered handles, was brought forth.
M----, who abhors the sight of a dead body, reddened up to his ears, and
would have given a good sum to make an honourable retreat; but no
retreat could now have been made consistent with piety: he was obliged
to conquer his disgust and take a handle of the bier. Another was placed
in the murderous gripe of the notorious San Vicente; another fell to the
poor old snuffling Conde de San Lorenzo; a fourth to the Viscount
d’Asseca, a mighty simple-looking young gentleman; the fifth and sixth
were allotted to the Capitaô Mor of Cintra, and to the judge, a gaunt
fellow with a hang-dog countenance.
No sooner did the grand prior catch sight of the ghastly visage of the
dead body as it was being conveyed down-stairs in the manner I have
recited, than he made an attempt to move on, and precede instead of
following the procession; but Acciaoli, who acted as master of the
ceremonies, would not let him off so easily: he allotted him the post of
honour immediately at the head of the corpse, and placed himself at his
left hand, giving the right to Mascarenhas. All the bells of Cintra
struck up a cheerful peal, and to their merry jinglings we hurried along
through a dense cloud of dust, a rabble of children frolicking on either
side, and their grandmothers hobbling after, telling their beads, and
grinning from ear to ear at this triumph over the prince of darkness.
Happily the way to the church was not long, or the dust would have
choked us. The grand prior kept his mouth close not to admit a particle
of it, but Acciaoli and his colleague were too full of their fortunate
exploit not to chatter incessantly. Poor old San Lorenzo, who is fat,
squat, and pursy, gasping for breath, stopped several times to rest on
his journey. Marialva, whom disgust rendered heartily fatigued with his
burthen, was very glad likewise to make a pause or two.
We found all the altars in the church blazing with lights, the grave
gaping for its immaculate inhabitant, and a numerous detachment of
priests and choristers waiting to receive the procession. The moment it
entered, the same hymn which is sung at the interment of babes and
sucklings burst forth from a hundred youthful voices, incense arose in
clouds, and joy and gladness shone in the eyes of the whole
congregation.
A murmur of applause and congratulation went round anew, those whom it
most concerned receiving with great affability and meekness the
compliments of the occasion. Old San Lorenzo, waddling up to the grand
prior, hugged him in his arms, and strewing him all over with snuff, set
him violently a-sneezing. San Vicente, as soon as the innocent was
safely deposited, retired in a sort of dudgeon, being never rightly at
ease in the presence of his brother-in-law Marialva. As for the latter
warm-hearted nobleman, exultation and triumph carried him beyond all
bounds of decorum. He scoffed bitterly at heretics, represented in their
true colours the actual happiness of the convert, and just as we left
the church, cried out loud enough for all those who were near to have
heard him, “_Elle se f----iche de nous tous à présent._”
Their pious toil being ended, Mascarenhas and Acciaoli accompanied us to
the heights of Penha Verde, to breathe a fresh air under the odoriferous
pines: then, returning in our company to Ramalhaô, partook of a nice
collation of iced fruit and sweetmeats, and concluded the evening with
much gratifying discourse about the lively scene we had just witnessed.