Mr. Southey having sent me two letters from the Peninsula, they are here
presented to the reader.
"Corunna, Dec. 15th, 1795.
Indeed my dear friend, it is strange that you are reading a letter from
me now, and not an account of our shipwreck. We left Falmouth on Tuesday
mid-day; the wind was fair till the next night, so fair that we were
within twelve hours' sail of Corunna; it then turned round, blew a
tempest, and continued so till the middle of Saturday. Our dead lights
were up fifty hours, and I was in momentary expectation of death. You
know what a situation this is. I forgot my sickness, and though I thought
much of the next world, thought more of those at Bristol, who would daily
expect letters; daily be disappointed, and at last learn from the
newspapers, that the Lauzarotte had never been heard of.
Of all things it is most difficult to understand the optimism of this
difference of language; the very beasts of the country do not understand
English. Say "poor fellow" to a dog, and he will probably bite you; the
cat will come if you call her "Meeth-tha," but "puss" is an outlandish
phrase she has not been accustomed to; last night I went to supper to the
fleas, and an excellent supper they made; and the cats serenaded me with
their execrable Spanish: to lie all night in _Bowling-Green Lane_,[53]
would be to enjoy the luxury of soft and smooth lying.
At sight of land a general shaving took place; no subject could be better
for Bunbury than a Packet cabin taken at such a moment. For me, I am as
yet whiskered, for I would not venture to shave on board, and have had no
razor on shore till this evening. Custom-house officers are more
troublesome here than in England, I have however got everything at last;
you may form some idea of the weather we endured; thirty fowls over our
head were drowned; the ducks got loose, and ran with a party of half
naked Dutchmen into our cabin: 'twas a precious place, eight men lying on
a shelf much like a coffin. Mr. Wahrendoff, a Swede, was the whole time
with the bason close under his nose.
The bookseller's shop was a great comfort; the Consul here has paid me
particular attentions, and I am to pass to-morrow morning with him, when
he will give me some directions concerning Spanish literature. He knows
the chief literary men in England, and did know Brissot and Petion. Of
the dramatic poet whom Coates's friend Zimbernatt mentioned as rivalling
Shakspeare, I hear nothing; that young Spaniard seems to exaggerate or
rather to represent things like a warm-hearted young man, who believes
what he wishes. The father-in-law of Tallien is a banker, what you call a
clever fellow; another word, says the most sensible man here, for a
cheat; the court and the clergy mutually support each other, and their
combined despotism is indeed dreadful, yet much is doing; Jardine is very
active; he has forwarded the establishment of schools in the Asturias
with his Spanish friends. Good night, they are going to supper. Oh, their
foul oils and wines!
Tuesday morning. I have heard of hearts as hard as rocks, and stones, and
adamants, but if ever I write upon a hard heart, my simile shall be, as
inflexible as a bed in a Spanish Posada; we had beef steaks for supper
last night, and a sad libel upon beef steaks they were. I wish you could
see our room; a bed in an open recess, one just moved from the other
corner. Raynsford packing his trunk; Maber shaving himself; tables and
chairs; looking-glass hung too high even for a Patagonian, the four
evangelists, &c. &c. the floor beyond all filth, most filthy.
I have been detained two hours since I began to write, at the custom
house. Mr. Cottle, if there be a custom house to pass through, to the
infernal regions, all beyond must be, comparatively, tolerable....
Adieu,