“Here, ’midst the changeful scenery, ever new,
Fancy a thousand wond’rous forms descries,
More wildly great than ever pencil drew;
Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size,
And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise.”—BEATTIE.
This Spanish mountain, which has been so long celebrated on account of
the singularity of its shape, but chiefly for its convent and its
numerous hermitages, is nine leagues north-west of Barcelona, in the
province of Catalonia. It is in hight only three thousand, three hundred
feet above the level of the sea, but it commands an enchanting prospect
of the fine plain of Barcelona, extending to the sea, as well as of the
islands of Majorca and Minorca, distant one hundred and fifty miles.
Toward Barcelona this mountain presents a bold and rugged front; but on
the west, toward Vacarisas, it is almost perpendicular, notwithstanding
which, a carriage-road winds round to the convent, which is placed in a
sheltered recess among the rocks, at about half the hight of the
mountain. The Llobregat roars at the bottom; and the rock presents
perpendicular walls from the edge of the water: but above the convent,
the mountain divides into two crowns or cones, which form the most
prominent features; while smaller pinnacles, blanched and bare, and
split into pillars, pipes, and other singular shapes, give a most
picturesque effect. Here are seen fourteen or fifteen hermitages, which
are scattered over different points of the mountain, some of them on the
very pinnacles of the cones, to which they seem to grow, while others
are placed in cavities hewn out of the loftiest pyramids. The highest
accessible part of the mountain is above the hermitage of St. Maddelena,
the descent from which is between two cones, by a flight of steps,
called Jacob’s ladder, leading into a valley which runs along the summit
of the mountain. The cones are here in the most grotesque shapes, the
southern one being named the Organ, from its resemblance to a number of
pipes.
At the extremity of this valley, which is a perfect shrubbery, and on an
eminence, stands the hermitage of St. Jerome, the highest and most
remote of all; and near it is the loftiest station of the whole
mountain, on which is a little chapel dedicated to the Virgin. From this
elevated pinnacle the prospect is vast and splendid.
Although the elements have wreaked all their fury on these shattered
peaks, yet Nature has not been sparing in her gifts; the spaces between
the rocks being filled up with close woods, while numerous evergreens,
and other plants, serve to adorn the various chasms, rendering them
valuable depositories of the vegetable kingdom. Few, indeed, are the
evergreens of Europe which may not be found here; and when the mountain
was visited by Mr. Swinburne, the apothecary of the convent had a list
of four hundred and thirty-seven species of plants, and forty of trees,
which shoot up spontaneously, and grace this hoary and venerable pile.
There being two springs only on the mountain, there is a scarcity of
water, which is chiefly collected in cisterns; an inconvenience,
however, which is in a great measure counterbalanced by the absence of
wolves, bears, and other wild beasts.
Captain Carlton, an Englishman, who visited Montserrat some years ago,
ascended to the loftiest hermitage, that of St. Jerome, by the means of
spiral steps hewn out in the rock on account of the steep acclivity.
This, he observes, could not, in his time, be well accomplished by a
stranger, without following the footsteps of an old ass, who carried
from the convent a daily supply of food to the hermits. This animal
having his two panniers stored with the provisions divided into
portions, climbed without a guide, and having stopped at each of the
cells, where the hermit took the portion allotted to him, returned back
to the convent. He found that one of these hermits, to beguile the
wearisomeness of his solitude, had contrived so effectually to tame the
birds which frequented the groves surrounding his hermitage, that he
could draw them together with a whistle, when they perched on his head,
breast, and shoulders, taking the food from his mouth.
The convent is situated on the eastern side of the mountain, which seems
to have been split by vast torrents of water, or by some violent
convulsion of nature: in this way a platform has been formed in the
cleft, sufficiently ample for the purpose of its construction. It is one
of the forty-five religious houses of the Spanish congregation of the
order of St. Benedict. The monks are bound to supply food and lodging
for three days to all pilgrims who come up to pay their homage to the
Virgin; besides which, they entertain the hermits on Sundays. The
latter, who make a vow never to quit the mountain, take their stations
by seniority, the junior hermit being placed at the greatest distance
from the convent, and descending progressively as the vacancies happen.
They are not altogether idle, taking pains to rival each other in making
basket-work and other fanciful productions, which they display with
great affability to their visitors. They assemble every morning to hear
mass and perform divine service, in the parish church of St. Cecilia,
which lies considerably above the convent; and twice a week they confess
and communicate. They wear their beards long, and are clad in brown.
The church of St. Cecilia is a gloomy edifice, the gilding of which is
much sullied by the smoke of eighty-five silver lamps, of various forms
and sizes, suspended round the cornice of the sanctuary. For the supply
of these with oil, funds have been bequeathed by devotees. The choir is
decorated with wood carvings, curiously wrought, representing the most
prominent passages in the life of Christ.