[Illustration:
Marie Catherine le Jumel de Barneville,
Baroness of Aulnoy]
THE
Ingenious and Diverting
LETTERS
OF THE
Lady——TRAVELS
INTO
SPAIN
DESCRIBING
The Devotions, Nunneries, Humours,
Customs, Laws, Militia, Trade, Diet,
and Recreations of that People.
Intermixt with
Great Variety of Modern Adventures, and
Surprising Accidents: being the Truest
and Best REMARKS Extant on that Court
and Country.
--------------
The Second Edition
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_LONDON_:
Printed for _Samuel Crouch_, at the Corner of
_Pope’s-Head-Alley_, next _Cornhil_. 1692.
Copyright, 1899, by
Archer M. Huntington
Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
The Knickerbocker Press
New York & London
To
W. W. D.
Licensed,
Sept. 2, 1691.
_Rob. Midgley._
To the Honourable
M^{rs} _Martha Lockhart_
MADAM,
I Humbly beg Leave these Letters may appear in an English Dress, under
the Protection of your Name; whose Accuracy in the Original, justly
Intitles you to this Dedication; and whose Advantagious Birth, Greatness
of Mind, and Uncommon Improvements, exact a Veneration from the most
Invidious; and render you an Illustrious Ornament of your Sex.
Madam, For me to attempt here the Publishing your Vertues and
Accomplishments, so universally acknowledg’d by all that have the Honour
of your Acquaintance, would be to detract from your Merit; and might
more justly be censured for Presumption than Flattery.
It were better to imitate the Painter, who perceiving it not possible to
represent the Father’s Grief for the loss of his Daughter, drew a Veil
over his Face, and owned his Inability.
But I forget, Madam, ’tis my part only to crave your Pardon for this
bold Address; and to study ever to approve myself,
MADAM,
_Your most Obedient Servant_.
TO THE
READER
IT is not sufficient to write things true, but they must likewise seem
probable, to gain belief. This has sometime so prevail’d with me, as to
make me think of retrenching from my Relation the strange Stories you
will find therein. But I have been withheld from doing this, by Persons
of such great Sence and Merit, as has made me conclude, that I cannot do
amiss in following their Judgments.
I do not doubt but there will be some, who will accuse me of
hyperbolizing, and composing Romances; but such would do well to
acquaint themselves first with the Countrey, Humour, and Character of
those I treat of. A Fact must not be presently condemn’d as false,
because it is not publick, or may not hit every Man’s Fancy. I cite no
feigned Names, no Persons whose Death may give me the Liberty of
attributing what I please to them.
In a word: I write nothing but what I have seen, or heard from Persons
of Unquestionable Credit; And therefore shall conclude with assuring
you, That you have here no Novel, or Story, devised at pleasure; but an
Exact and most True Account of what I met with in my Travels.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION xv
LETTER I 1
LETTER II 50
LETTER III 100
LETTER IV 148
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
MARIE CATHERINE LE JUMEL DE BARNEVILLE,
BARONESS OF AULNOY _Frontispiece._
GATEWAY OF FUENTERRABIA 46
A TOWN OF CENTRAL SPAIN 100
MEDINA DEL CAMPO 144
INTRODUCTION
AT the end of the seventeenth century and the beginning of the
eighteenth there were several women in France who had gained no small
reputation for the writing of amusing if somewhat extravagant _Contes
des Fées_. Of these Marie-Catherine Le Jumel de Barneville, Baroness of
Aulnoy, has best survived her contemporaries as the author of _La Chatte
Blanche_, _La Grenouïlle Bien-complaisante_, _Le Prince Lutin_,
_L’Oiseau Bleue_, and of other tales which, as M. La Harpe has thought,
place her supreme in the realm of delicate frivolity.
The life of this brilliant woman will doubtless present a contrast with
most preconceptions of her character based upon a mere reading of her
books; and we may be surprised to find in her such a marked
individuality, so peculiarly in touch with her time, and offering so
little of the ideal and sensitive nature it was fairly natural to infer.
We have not, in fact, a mere writer of amusing tales and half romantic
histories, but an intriguing, though charming, woman, of a bold and
often reckless nature, sufficient to stamp her a worthy daughter of her
time. And, after all harsh verdicts have been passed, we shall, I think,
return to Madame Aulnoy, by way of her books, with a feeling of
affection and interest.
Barneville, near Bourg-Achard (Eure), is her birthplace. Her father was
Nicolas-Claude Le Jumel, and her mother, who subsequently married the
Marquis of Gudaigne and went with him to Rome, Judith-Angélique Le
Coustellier. Nicolas is said to have served long in the armies of Louis
XIV., and to have been related to some of the best families of Normandy.
Judith later, when in Rome, seems to have rendered peculiar services to
the Spanish court, for which she was duly rewarded.
The date of their daughter’s birth is not positively fixed. It is given
as 1650 or 1651, but no record of baptism remains, and of the life of
Madame Aulnoy previous to the date of her marriage with François de La
Motte little is known. That event occurred on Monday, the 8th of March,
1666.
But if the minor details of her life are wanting, we have yet a general
and quite sufficient survey of its broader lines. Married at sixteen to
a man thirty-six years her senior, we may find in the character of her
husband (“un assez triste personage,” as one of his biographers has
named him) no uncertain commentary on the subsequent behavior of his
wife.
He is described as: “Un bel homme, bien fait, d’abord valet de pied de
César, duc de Vendôme, qui cherchait d’avoir de beaux hommes à son
service.”
He rose in the confidence of this master, who in 1649 to 1650 employed
him in important affairs. This duke of Vendôme, called by Le Vassor[1]
“un mince capitaine, que ne sut jamais se faire craindre ni se faire
estimer,” had, on his return to France in 1641, been accused of an
attempt to poison Richelieu. These were the days of the celebrated
Brinvilliers, when _Acqua Tofana_ had been brought from Italy and the
number of poisoners was increasing in France. The duke had again
returned after the death of Richelieu, and under Mazarin in 1650 was
given the government of Bourgogne. In 1653 he took Bordeaux, and two
years later put to flight the Spanish fleet before Barcelona. It was in
1653 that La Motte, rising to prosperity with the fortunes of his
master, was made Chevalier de Saint-Michel, and one year later he
purchased for 150,000 livres from Claude Gobelin the Barony of Aulnoy in
Brie. His success was, however, of short duration, and his money soon
slipped away. He died in 1700 in his eightieth year, “Accablé de ses
infortunes et des infamies de ses filles, dont il y en a deux qui
imitent leur mère.”
In view, therefore of the seemingly general evil opinion as to the
character of François de La Motte we may possibly abate somewhat of the
severity of judgment in regard to his wife. Yet on the whole Madame
Aulnoy does not present a too pleasing portrait. Of her five children
two only were acknowledged by their father. Marie-Angélique was born on
the 26th of January, 1667; Dominique-César on the 22d of November of the
same year; Anne, 1668; Judith-Henriette, 1669; Thérèse-Aymée in 1676.
Of these the only son died young. Thérèse was taken to Spain in the
early part of 1679 by Madame Aulnoy, whither the latter had gone to
rejoin her mother, the Marquise de Gudaigne. Marie-Angélique, it
appears, had the clever nature of her mother, and won a salon
reputation. She married Claude Denis de Herre de Vaudois. Anne, the most
beautiful, married a gentleman of Berry, by name M. de Preaulx
d’Artigny. Thérèse-Aymée remained in Spain with the queen, where she was
in 1705. Judith-Henriette seems to have remained in Paris and followed,
in a “carrière d’intrigue et de galanterie,” the footsteps of her mother
and grandmother.
All amicable relations between Madame Aulnoy and her husband had come to
an end even before the tragic event which all but involved her and her
mother, and for which they were undoubtedly responsible. A certain C.
Bonenfant, Seigneur de Lamoizière, and another, J. A. de Crux, Seigneur
Marquis de Courboyer, who were, without seeming question, lovers of
Madame Aulnoy and the Marquise de Gudaigne, attacked, at their
instigation, in the courts, the unfortunate La Motte, who, however,
managed to save himself, and the attempt ended in failure. The accusers
were tried, put to the torture, and confessed. Both suffered death, and
the two women found it necessary to make their escape. It was said that
Madame Aulnoy was all but captured, having been found by the officer in
bed, whence she managed to escape, and hid herself beneath a catafalque
in a neighboring church. The two went first to England and afterwards to
Spain. Here, however, having rendered some service to their own
government, they were finally pardoned and returned to France, where, in
1699, Madame Aulnoy again appears, this time mixed up in the famous
Ticquet scandal, which ended in the beheading of Angélique Ticquet on
the 17th of June. Our author seems to have run some danger of joining
her on the scaffold. She died, however, in her house in the Rue
Saint-Benoit on the 14th of January, 1705.
* * * * *
If the _Contes des Fées_ of Madame Aulnoy have had a remarkable vogue,
not so fortunate has been the lot of some of the historical endeavors of
this lady. Her _Mémoires de la Cour d’Espagne_ (1679-1681) and _Mémoires
de la Cour d’Angleterre_ (1695) have been quietly laid aside, together
with the _Histoire d’Hippolyte_, _Comte de Douglas_ (1690), and the
_Histoire de Jean de Bourbon_ (1692), for, though always interesting,
the qualities of imagination which combine to the writing of a fairy
tale are not quite those needed for the making of history, and
unfortunately for the clever lady, it is in the field of “delicate
frivolity” that she has been placed.
But Madame Aulnoy has put forward a more serious claim to legitimate
reputation in the small volume of travel published anonymously at Paris
in 1691, wherein she describes her voyage into Spain with a brilliancy
and wealth of detail which is all the more grateful in that the period
has furnished us with but little like it. In this Journey she has
produced a remarkable book. To the quick eye of the clever French woman
nothing is lost. She sees the astonishing condition of the Peninsula
with an instant but not unsympathetic glance. Into what might have well
proved a dismal picture she has woven her ever lively personality, and
with a ready humor turns the incidents of evil chance to amusing asides.
If in all this an air of unreality and lack of truth is introduced, it
does not on the whole affect the picture. Nor does this resemble the
more fanciful historical work of the same writer, for here at least all
is natural and fairly told. Spaniards have been at pains to attack this
writer. They have argued and abused. But it is not far wrong to find in
her book a near approach to a truthful picture. There was, in fact,
small need for calling up the imagination. There is evidence enough that
in that day no one need closet himself and dream for the seeing of
strange sights. It is the commonplace that surprises us. We feel how
little the nation was responding to the sense of awakening which began
to be felt elsewhere. Cervantes with his laughter had not brought to
earth all fabrics of romance. The modern spirit was not yet stirring.
Of this book, as of Madame Aulnoy, Taine has been unhesitating in his
praise. To him she was neither prude, philosopher, nor pedant; without
affectation; a ready observer, praising or condemning with discretion,
he seemed to find in her a representative in some measure of the great
literary age of which she was a part.
And to him she never exaggerates; she has the inestimable qualities of
good sense, frankness, and tact, is a French woman of culture and
breeding. “On imprime,” he says, speaking of the book before us,
“beaucoup de livres nouveaux, on ferait bien de réimprimer quelques
livres anciens, au premier rang celui-ci.”
* * * * *
On the death of Philip IV., in 1665, a sigh of relief might well have
risen from all Spain, yet scarcely through any anticipation of better
days to come. For, though this man had presented to Europe a peculiarly
marked type of bad government, his end raised no profound hopes of
improvement. A man of strong character, of inflexible honesty, of
patience; a statesman, a philosopher, and, last of all, a king, was what
a few who remembered other days may have hoped. Instead, a Regency. At a
time when throughout the land a magistrate, a viceroy, or a noble who
had no place to sell or influence to buy was scarcely to be found; when
an exhausted treasury, the loss of possessions, the slipping of
prestige, the corruption of all classes, called for a guiding hand, then
it was that fate saw fit to introduce a new king—_at the age of four_.
Spanish writers have a justified bitterness for this period of the
national history. While the Imperial power was sinking slowly away, no
return of prosperity, of New World conquest, or Old World grandeur
appeared in the distance. None ever came. Stretching back into the past,
the widening road of disaster ran straight to the foot of the throne of
Philip II. On every side the downfall had begun. Spanish troops once
invincible retreated and again retreated. Bit by bit the schemes of
other countries began to be realized in the dismemberment of the Empire.
Literature grown decadent, history perverted, Mannerism and Gongorism
were the new gods and Churriguera the builder of their temples.
The arts decayed and died. Merchants, anticipating the destruction of
trade, refused to venture their money. They rather hoarded it in secret
places, discarding hope of interest. Commerce knew no security. Wealth
brought but extortion. Power lay in the hands of court favorites.
“Les provinces étoient si épuisées,” writes Villars, “qu’en quelques
endroits de la Castille on étoit obligé pour vivre, de trocquer les
marchandises, parcequ’il n’y avoit plus d’argent pour acheter. Dans
Madrid même il ne se’en trouvoit presque plus, et l’on y ressentoit à
loisir les suites du changement de la monnoye que l’on avoit fait, avec
tant de précipitation. Les personnes de qualité dont la dépense avoit
doublé par ce changement ne pouvoient payer leurs marchands, et les
banquiers n’avoient plus de fonds et ne trouvoient point à emprunter; on
ne payoit rien dans la maison du Roy et les choses en vinrent à une
telle extrémité, que la plus part des petits domestiques ayant rendu
leurs livrées pour quitter le service, on eut beaucoup de peine à
trouver les moyens de les y faire demeurer.”
Even religion was to become the vehicle of a host of strange mysteries;
professional saints flourished; miracles were of daily report, the
stigmata had repeatedly appeared. Superstition fed upon tales of witches
and hobgoblins, and the minds of high and low were filled with a
strange, incongruous mass of belief and doubt. A whole supernatural
world both local and national crowded the places of Christian tradition.
Every fragment of Roman, Arabic, or Gothic belief came to be fused upon
the general credulity.
While the form that faith had assumed no longer surprises the reader as
he turns the pages of contemporary writers, yet the _auto de fé_ had not
gasped its last. Outside the gate of Fuencarral the fires still burned.
In 1680, the very year in which our author is writing her later letters
from Madrid, it had produced an exhibition in the Plaza Mayor which had
the utmost detail of dramatic staging given it to lend impressiveness.
The bull-fight, too, was beginning to grow into that popularity which
was later to make it the national sport.
The condition of the people was lamentable. Little by little the lower
orders, driven from trades and manufacturing, were forced to face
conditions of pauperism. Theft came to be too common to be noted. Every
mountain pass was infested by robbers. People travelled well armed or
stayed at home.
Into such a country, under such conditions as these, came, in February,
1679, this French woman of position, cultivation, and wit, and from San
Sebastian she wrote the first of the series of letters which one by one
found their way northward as she journeyed toward Madrid.
“Le premier trait du caractère Espagnol, c’est le manque de sense
pratique,” says Taine. Something, however, must be added to every
epigram on Spain, for she will not permit of hasty summing. Something
must be said of language, dignity, and, last but not least, of the
instinctive ceremonial. All of this our author has perceived.
This ceremonial of Spain, what and whence is it and how is it that it is
first discerned by the traveller? Its history, could it be written,
would be indeed a history of shadows, a ghostly palimpsest of needs made
forms. Time was when a stern and God-favored war, fought day by day,
year to year, and century to century behind the Pyrenean wall, nursed
and fostered strange forms and moulded fantastic mental attitude. Europe
busied herself but little with it all. It was enough for her that the
Spaniard did well his office of guard and watcher at the outer gate.
There, she came to believe, was his place, and there he wore his livery.
And a strange livery it was—made up of rags and tatters of Iberian
pride, Roman servitude, and Christian independence, and as it was fought
day after day at the cheerless outer gate, from time to time the foe who
bore upon him with the banners of Islam fell back before him, leaving
upon the field some word to be gathered up as booty, some spoil of
solemn gesture or grave reply or strangely formed garment brought across
all Africa from Hejaz or the land of the Anazeh. And in this strange
attire he stood and fought and bled until with sweat and blood of a
thousand years the garment was a single hue and had become a solemn
cloak.
Then the word came for the sheathing of the sword to the south, and with
this cloak wrapped about him the erstwhile guardian of the outer gate of
a sudden stalked out upon Europe, jangling the gold purse of the Indies
at his belt, to the terror and the unfeigned astonishment of the world.
And this strange, melancholy creation of spectral silence has worn his
piecemeal cloak of historic ceremonial, and, like the garment of the
Seises, when it grew too old and threadbare redarned and furbished it
anew until it in turn became but a shade and figure of its predecessor,
yet drawn ever closer and hugged with a dearer love about the wasting
old guardsman’s figure.
-----
Footnote 1:
_Histoire de Louis XIII._
LETTERS
OF THE
Lady——TRAVELS
INTO
SPAIN
A
RELATION
OF A
Voyage to _SPAIN_
IN
Several Letters
LETTER I
SEEING you are so earnest with me to let you know all my Adventures, and
whatever I have observ’d during my Travels, you must therefore be
contented (my dear Cousin) to bear with a great many trifling
Occurrences, before you can meet with what will please you: I know your
Fancy is so nice and delicate, that none but extraordinary Accidents can
entertain you; and I wish I had no others to relate: but recounting
things faithfully, as they have hapned, you must be contented therewith.
I gave you an Account in my last, of what I met with as far as Bayonne:
you know this is a Town in France, Frontier to Spain, wash’d by the
Rivers Dadour and Nivelle, which joyn together; and the Sea comes up to
them. The Port and Trade are considerable: I came from Axe by Water, and
observ’d that the Boat-men of Adour have the same Custom as those of
Garonne; which is to say, That in passing by one another, they set up a
Hollowing; and they had rather lose their Wages than to forbear these
sort of Shoutings, although exceeding vexatious to those who are not
used to them. There are two Castles strong enough to defend the Town,
and there are about it several pleasant Walks.
At my Arrival there, I intreated the Baron de Castleneau, who had
accompany’d me from Axe, to bring me acquainted with some Women, with
whom I might spend my time with less impatience, till the Litters came,
which were to be sent to me from St. Sebastian.
He readily complied with my Request; for being a Person of Quality and
Worth, he is much esteem’d at Bayonne. He fail’d not the next Morning to
bring several Ladies to visit me.
These Women begin here to feel the scorching Heats of the Sun; their
Complexion is dark, their Eyes sparkling; they are charming enough,
their Wits are sharp: And I could give you a farther Account of their
Capacities, could I have better understood what they said: not but that
they could all speak French, yet with such a different Dialect, as
surpast my Understanding.
Some who came to see me, brought little Sucking Pigs under their Arms,
as we do little Dogs: it’s true they were very spruce, and several of
’em had Collars of Ribbons, of various Colours: However, this Custom
looks very odd, and I cannot but think that several among themselves are
disgusted at it: When they danced, they must set them down, and let
these grunting Animals run about the Chamber, where they make a very
pleasant Harmony. These Ladies danc’d at my Intreaty, the Baron of
Castleneau having sent for Pipes and Tabors.
The Gentlemen who attended the Ladies, took each of ’em her whom he had
brought with him, and the Dance began in a Round, all holding Hands:
they had afterwards long Canes brought them, and then each Spark taking
hold of his Lady’s Handkerchief, which separated them from one another,
moved very gracefully at the Sound of this Martial sort of Musick, which
inspired them with such Heat, that they seem’d not to be able to
moderate it. This seem’d to me to resemble the Pyrric Dance so much
celebrated by the Ancients; for these Gentlemen and Ladies made so many
Turns, Frisks and Capers, their Canes being thrown up into the Air, and
dexterously caught again, that it is impossible to describe their Art
and Agility: And I had a great deal of Pleasure in seeing ’em; but
methoughts it lasted too long, and I began to grow weary of this
ill-ordered Ball: When the Baron de Castleneau, who perceiv’d it, caused
several Baskets of dried Fruit to be brought in. They are the Jews who
pass for Portuguises, and dwell at Bayonne, who transport them from
Genoa, and furnish all the Country with them. We wanted not for
Limonade, and other refreshing Waters, of which these Ladies drank
heartily; and so the Entertainment ended.
I was carry’d the next Morning to see the Synagogue of the Jews, in the
Suburb of the Holy Spirit, but met with nothing remarkable there.
Monsieur de St. Pe, the King’s Lieutenant, who came to see me, though
much troubled with the Gout, invited me to Dine at his House, where I
was most deliciously entertain’d; for this a Country abounding with good
Cheer, and at cheap Rates. I found here Women of Quality that were very
handsome, whom he had invited to bear me Company. The sight of the
Castle, which faces the River, is very pleasant, and has always a good
Garison in it.
At my return to my Lodging, I was surpriz’d to find several Pieces of
Linnen, which were brought to me from the Ladies who came to see me,
with Baskets full of dried Sweetmeats. This Treatment seem’d to me very
obliging to a Lady whom they had not known above four or five Days. But
I must not forget to tell you, there is not any finer Linnen in the
World, than that which is made in this Country, some of which is open
like Net-work, and the Threads of it finer than Hair: And I remember,
that travelling thro’ the Villages of Bourdeaux, which may be rather
call’d Desarts, the poor Peasants living so wretchedly; yet I found
among them as neat Napkins as those used among People of Quality at
Paris.
I fail’d not to send these Ladies such little Presents which I thought
might please them: I perceiv’d they were great Admirers of Ribbons, and
wear a great many on their Heads and Ears, which made me send them a
great many; to which I added several Fans: and they, by way of Return,
presented me with Gloves, and Thread-Stockins, most delicately knit.
In sending them to me they desired me to go to the next Chappel, which
was not far from my Quarters, where they intended to Regale me with the
best Musick the Town would afford: but though there were very good
Voices, yet there is no great pleasure in hearing them, because they
want both Air and Skill.
The Litters which I expected from Spain, being come, I prepared for my
Departure; but I never met with any thing dearer than these sort of
Equipages; for each Litter has a Master that accompanies it, who keeps
the Gravity of a Roman Senator, being mounted on a Mule, and his Man on
another, with which they release ever and anon those that carry the
Litter. I had two, I took the greatest for myself and my Child, and had
besides four Mules for my Servants, and two for my Baggage: to conduct
them, there were other two Masters and two Men. You see what Charge one
is at, to go to Madrid, seeing you must pay not only for their
Attendance on you forwards, but the same Price for their return back:
However, we must submit to their Customs, and suffer ourselves to be
peel’d by them.
I found at Bayonne several Turks and Mores, and I think a worse sort of
People, and these are Custom-House-Men: I had caused my Trunks to be
weigh’d at Paris, that I might have the less to do with these sort of
People; but they were more subtle, or to speak better, more obstinate
than I; so that I was forc’d to give them whatever they demanded.
Scarcely was I got clear from them, when the Drums, Trumpets, Pipes, and
Violins of the Town, came thundring upon me; they follow’d me farther
than St. Anthony’s Gate, through which you pass for Spain through
Biscaye: they play’d each of them in their way, and all together,
without any Harmony, which was enough to drive any one out of their
Senses: I ordered some Money to be given them, upon which they left
persecuting me. As soon as we had left Bayonne, we enter’d into a large
barren Heath, where we saw nothing but Chesnut-Trees; but we afterwards
past along by the Sea, whose Sand makes a delightful Way, and a pleasant
Prospect.
We arriv’d in good time at St. John de Luz: nothing can be pleasanter
than this Borough, which is the greatest in France, and the best built;
there are several smaller Cities: its Port lies between two Mountains,
which Nature seems to have expresly placed to defend it from Storms; the
River Nivelle disgorges it self therein; the Sea comes up very high in
it, and the greatest Barks come up commodiously to the Key. The Seamen
here are very skilful at catching Whales, and other large Fish. We were
here very well entertain’d, so that our Tables were covered with all
sorts of Wild Fowl: but our Beds were not answerable, being stuck with
Feathers whose Pinions ran into our sides, and we wanted Quilts to lay
on the top of them: I thought when we were to pay, that we should have
had a large Reckoning, but they only demanded of me half a Lewis Dor,
when they would have cost more than five Pistoles at Paris. The
Situation of St. John de Luz is extreamly agreeable.
In the most spacious part of the Town you see here a very fine Church,
built after the Modern Fashion; and here is a Passage over the River
Nivelle, on a Woodden Bridge of great length. Here are Toll-Gatherers,
who make you pay for every thing you carry with you, not excepting your
Cloaths: This Tax is demanded at their Pleasure; and it is excessive on
Strangers. I was weary with speaking French to ’em, and protesting I was
no Spaniard; they feigning not to understand me, sneering in my Face,
and wrapping up their Heads in their Hooded-Gowns; they seem’d to be
Thieves, disguised in Capuchins: In short, they tax’d me eighteen
Crowns, and would perswade me they used me well, tho’ I found the
contrary. But I have already told you (dear Cousin), that when you
travel this Country, you must stock yourself with Patience, and good
store of Money.
I saw the Castle of Artois, which seems a strong place; and a little
farther Orognes, where the Biscaye is spoken, without either French or
Spanish. I design’d to lye at Iron, which is but three Leagues distant
from St. John de Luz; and I had set out after Noon, but the Dispute
which we had with the Watch on the Bridge, the Difficulty we had in
passing the Mountains of Beotia, and the ill Weather, joyned to other
little Difficulties which hapned, were the Cause that it was Night
before we arriv’d on the Borders of the River Bidassoa, which separates
France from Spain. I observ’d along the way from Bayonne thither, little
Carriages, on which they transport every thing, which have only two Iron
Wheels, and the Noise they make is so great, that they are heard a Mile
off, when there are many of them together, which often happen; for you
often meet with Sixty or Seventy at a time; they are drawn by Oxen. I
have seen the same in the Villages of Bourdeaux, and especially on the
side of Axe.
The River of Bidassoa is usually very small, but the Snows melting had
increas’d it to such a degree, that we had no small trouble to pass it,
some in a Boat, and others swimming on their Mules: The Moon shined very
bright, by means of which I was shew’d on the right Hand the Isle of
Conference, where the Marriage of our King was made with Maria Therese,
Infanta of Spain. I saw a while after the Fort of Fontarabia, which
belongs to the King of Spain, standing on the Mouth of this small River:
the Flux and Reflux of the Sea arrives here. Our Kings heretofore
pretended it belonged to them: there have been such great Contests
hereupon, especially by the Inhabitants of Fontarabia, and those of
Andaye, that they have several times come to Blows. This oblig’d Lewis
the Twelfth, and Ferdinand, to agree, That it should be common to both
Nations: the French and the Spaniards take Toll equally; these last
making those pay who pass into Spain, and the former doing the like in
relation to those who pass over to France.
War does not hinder Commerce on this Frontier: it’s true they cannot
subsist without it, seeing they must perish through Want, did they not
assist one another.
This Country call’d Biscaye, is full of high Mountains, where are
several Iron Mines: The Biscays climb up the Rocks as easily, and with
as great swiftness as Stags: Their Language (if one may call such Jargon
Language) is very poor, seeing one Word signifies abundance of Things:
There are none but those born in the Country that can understand it; and
I am told, that to the end it may be more particularly theirs, they make
no use of it in Writing; they make their Children to read and write
French and Spanish, according to which King’s Subjects they are. It’s
certain, as soon as I past the little River of Bidassoa, I was not
understood, unless I spake Castillan; and not above a quarter of an Hour
before, I should not have been understood had I not spoke French.
I found on the other side of this River a Banker of St. Sebastian, to
whom I was recommended: he tarried for me, with two of his Relations;
they were cloath’d after the French manner, but ridiculously, their
Justau Corps being short and large, and their Sleeves hanging down very
short; those of their Shirts were so large, that they hung down below
their Justau Corps: they had Bands without Collars; Periwigs, one of
which had enough Hair for four, and so frizled, as made ’em look as if
they were frighted; iller-drest People you cannot meet with. Those who
wear their own Hair, wear it very long and close, parting it on the
Crown, and pass part of it behind their Ears: but what kind of Ears
think you? those of Midas were not larger; and I believe, that to
lengthen them, they are stretched when they be young: without question
they find some kind of Beauty herein.
My three Spaniards made me in bad French most tedious and dull
Complements. We past through the Bourg of Tran, which is about a quarter
of a League from the River, and came afterwards to Irun, which is
distant about another quarter of a League: this little Town is the first
of Spain which you meet with, leaving France: it’s ill built; the
Streets are unequal, and there’s nothing one can speak of: We entered
into the Inn through the Stable, where are the Stairs on which you must
ascend to your Chamber; this is the Country’s Fashion. I found the House
very light, by a great many Candles, which were as small as Pack-thread;
there were at least forty in my Chamber, fixt on little bits of Wood; in
the midst of ’em stood a Pan of Coals burning, made of Olive Rhines, to
take away the scent of the Candles.
I had a great Supper, which my Gallants, the Spaniards, had caus’d to be
made ready for me; but all was so full of Garlick, Saffron and Spice,
that I could eat nothing: and I had made very bad Cheer, had not my Cook
made me a little Ragou of what he could find.
Determining to go but to St. Sebastian the next Morning, which is but
seven or eight Leagues, I thought to Dine before I set out: I was
sitting at Table when one of my Women brought me my Watch to wind it up,
as it was my Custom at Noon; It was a striking Watch, of Tompion’s make,
and cost me fifty Lewises: My Banker, who was by me, shew’d some desire
to see it; I gave it him, with a customary Civility. This was enough: my
Blade rises, makes me a profound Reverence, telling me, “He did not
deserve so considerable a Present; but such a Lady as I could make no
other: That he would engage his Faith and Reputation, that he would
never part with my Watch as long as he liv’d; and that he found himself
extreamly oblig’d to me.” He kist it at the end of his pleasant
Complement, and thrust it into his Pocket, which was deeper than a Sack.
You’ll take me to be a very great Sot, in saying nothing to all this,
and I do not wonder at it; but I confess ingenuously, I was so surpriz’d
at his Proceeding, that the Watch was out of sight before I could
resolve on what I was to do. My Women, and the rest of my Servants who
were about me, stared on me, and I on them, blushing with Shame and
Vexation to be thus caught: However, I recollected myself, and
considered, that this Man was to pay me a good round Sum of Money for
the Charge of my Journey, and to return Money to Bourdeaux, where I had
taken it up; that having Bills of Credit on him, he might use several
Tricks to me, and Put-offs, which might make me spend twice the Value of
the Watch: In fine, I let him part with it, and endeavour’d to do myself
Honour from a thing which gave me great Mortification.
I have learnt, since this little Adventure, that ’tis the Custom in
Spain, when any thing is presented to one, if he likes it, and kisses
your Hand, he may take it with him. This is a very pleasant Fashion, and
being sufficiently acquainted with it, ’twill be my Fault if I am Trapt
again.
I left this Inn where they peel’d me sufficiently; for this is a
grievous dear Country, and every one strives to be Rich at his
Neighbour’s Cost. A while after we had left the Town we entred on the
Pyrenean Mountains, which are so high and steep, that looking down, you
see, not without Horror, the Precipices which environ them; we went thus
as far as Rentery: Don Antonio (which was my Banker’s Name) went before
me, and for my more commodious Passage, he oblig’d me to quit my Litter;
for although we had traverst several Mountains, yet there remain’d more
difficult to pass: he made me enter into a little Boat, which he had
prepar’d to go down the River of Andaye, till we were near the Mouth of
the Sea, where we saw the King of Spain’s Gallions; there were three
very fine and large ones. Our little boats were set forth with Gilt
Streamers; they were manag’d by Girls, who were very lusty and handsome;
there are three in each, two that Row, and one who holds the Rudder.
These Wenches are very well shaped, of Chesnut Complexion, have very
good Teeth, Hair Black, which they tie up with Ribbons, in Knots, and so
let it hang behind them: They wear a kind of Veil on their Heads, made
of Musling, embroidered with Flowers of Gold and Silk, which hangs
loose, and covers their Breasts: they wear Pendants in their Ears of
Gold and Pearls, and Bracelets of Coral; they have a kind of Justau
Corps, like our Gypsies, whose Sleeves are very strait: I can assure you
they charm’d me. I was told these Wenches swim like Fishes, and suffer
neither Women nor Men among them. This is a kind of Republick, where
they repair from all Parts, and where their Parents send them very
young.
When they are willing to marry, they go to Mass at Fontarabia, which is
the nearest Town to ’em; and there the young Men come to chuse ’em Wives
to their Humour. He that will engage himself in Hymen’s Bonds, goes to
his Mistress’s Parents, declares to them his Intentions, regulates every
thing with them: And this being done, notice of it is given to the Maid:
If she likes the Party, she retires to their house, where the Nuptuals
are celebrated.
I never saw a more gay Air than that on their Countenances; they have
little Habitations along the Waterside, and there are old Maidens to
whom the younger pay Respect, as to their Mothers. They related these
Particulars to us in their Language, and we hearken’d to ’em with great
Delight, when the Devil, who never sleeps, disturb’d us with a vexatious
Adventure.
My Cook, who is a Gascon, and exactly of the Humour of those of that
Country, was in one of our Boats behind us, at some distance, very near
a young Biscaneer, who appeared to him very handsome; he contented not
himself with telling her as much, but would have rudely turn’d up her
Veil. She being not used to this sort of plain Dealing without any Words
broke his Head with her Oar: Having done this Exploit, Fear seizing on
her, she threw herself immediately into the Water, tho’ the Season was
very cold, and swam with great swiftness; but having all her Cloaths on,
and it being far to the Shoar, her strength began to fail her. Several
of these Wenches who saw this at Land, leapt immediately into their
Boats to her Assistance, when those who had remain’d in the Boat with
the Cook, fearing the loss of their Companion, fell on him like two
Furies, resolving by all means to drown him, and had like two or three
times to have overturn’d their little Vessel, which we beholding from
ours, had much a-do to part and appease them.
I assure you the foolish Gascon was so cruelly handled, that he was all
over blood; and my Banker told me, that these young Biscaneers provoked,
are worse than Lions. In fine, we came to Land, but were scarcely on
Shoar, but we saw this Wench which was saved out of the Water, making up
towards us, with near fifty others, each with an Oar on their Shoulder,
marching in Battle-ray, with Fife and Drum; when she who was to be the
Mouth of the Company, advanc’d, and calling me several times Andria,
which is to say, Madam, (for that’s all I could retain of her Speech)
gave me to understand, That they would have my Cook’s Skin, if
Satisfaction were not made proportionably to the Damage done their
Companion’s Cloaths. At the ending of which words, the She-Drummers fell
loudly beating their Drums, and the rest of their Amazons set up an
Hollowing, Leaping and Dancing, and Fencing with their Oars in a most
astonishing manner.
Don Antonio, to make me amends for the Present he had wrung from me (I
cannot but often mention it, lying on my Heart as it does) undertook to
make Peace: He found that my Cook, who thought himself sufficiently
beaten, had Reason to give nothing; and therefore he distributed some
Pieces of Money among this Marine Troop: On receipt of which they set
forth lowder Hollow’s than before, and wish’d me a good Journey, and
speedy Return, each of ’em dancing and singing at the sound of their
Pipes and Tabors.
We entred into a very rough Way, and ascended along very narrow Paths,
on the side of which there are Precipices; so that I was greatly afraid,
lest the Mules which carry’d my Litter should stumble: We afterwards
past over a large Sandy Field. I tarry’d some time in the Convent of St.
Francis, which stands near the River of Andaye: We past over it on a
very long Wooden Bridge; and though we were very near St. Sebastian, yet
we could not then perceive it, because a Mount of Sand hid the Town:
It’s situated on the Foot of a Mountain, which serves on one side as a
Rampart against the Sea, and the Vessels come to the Foot of this
Mountain, to shelter them from the Storms; for here arise extraordinary
Tempests, that the Ships at Anchor perish in the Port: it’s deep, and
defended by two Moles, which leave only as much room as is requisite for
one Vessel passing at a time. They have rais’d here a great four Square
Tower, where there is ever a good Garison to defend the Place, in case
of Assault: it was a fine Day for the Season: I found the Town very
pleasant, being surrounded with a double Wall: there are mounted several
Pieces of Cannon on that part towards the Sea, with Bastions and Half
Moons: the Town is situated in a Province of Spain, call’d Guipuscoa:
the Outparts are exceeding pleasant, by reason that the Sea, as I now
said, serves for a Channel to it: the Streets of this Town are long and
large, pav’d with great White Stones, which are always clean: the Houses
are well enough; and the Churches decent, in which the Altars are of
Wood, on which are hung little Pictures, from top to bottom. Mines of
Iron and Steel abound in this Country, finer and purer perhaps than in
any other Parts of Europe; and this is the greatest part of their Trade.
Here the Wool which comes from Castille, is embark’d, which makes a
considerable part of their Traffick. Bilbo and St. Sebastian are two of
the most considerable Ports which the King of Spain has on the Ocean:
The Castle stands very high, and may make an indifferent Defence: here
are mounted several fine Pieces of Cannon; and there are a great many
along the Ramparts; but the Garison is so weak, that the Women might
conquer them with their Distaffs.
Every thing is as dear in this Town as in Paris, yet they fare well
here: Fish is excellent, and I was told Fruit was the same. I lay in the
best Inn, and when I had been there some time, Don Fernand de Toledo,
sent his Gentlemen to enquire, Whether his Visit would not be
troublesome to me? My Banker, who knew him, and who was then in my
Chamber, told me, he was a Spaniard of great Quality, Nephew to the Duke
D’Alva; that he came from Flanders, and was going to Madrid.
I receiv’d him with that Civility which was due to his Birth, and soon
thereto adjoyn’d particular Respects to his own Merit: He is a Gentleman
of good Presence, has Wit and Politeness, is Complaisant and Agreeable;
he speaks as good French as I do; but understanding Spanish, and being
desirous to speak it better, we therefore discours’d only in that
Language.
I was very well satisfied with his Carriage. He told me he came Post
hither from Brussels, and if I pleas’d, he would increase my Train, and
be one of my Company. I thought he jested, and answered him accordingly;
but he added, The ways were so full of Snow, that indeed they could not
ride Post; that he could make more speed on Horses than in Litters, but
the Honour of accompanying me, made abundant Recompence for that. In a
word, I saw he was a civil Person, and came no way short of the
Gallantry natural to the Spanish Cavaliers: I therefore consider’d, how
advantageous it might prove to have a Man of this Quality, and Country,
who could make himself be heard and obey’d by the Muletteers, who have
Iron Souls, and no Consciences.
I told him, I was very glad I met with him, and the Fatigue of the Road
would be less’ned by his Company. He immediately thereupon ordered his
Gentlemen to find a Litter for him: It being late he took his leave of
me, and I betook my self to be after a good Supper; for, my dear Cousin,
I am none of those Romantick Ladies that never eat.
Scarcely did I begin to sleep, when I heard some-body speak French so
near me, that I thought at first ’twas in my Chamber; but having
hearkned with more attention, I found ’twas in a Chamber separated from
mine by only some thin Boards, and those ill joynted: I drew my Curtain,
and saw Light through the Crevices, and at the same time two young
Women, the eldest of which appeared not to be above Seventeen or
Eighteen; neither of ’em were of those Beauties without Defect, yet were
they so pretty, spake so sweetly, and had such great sweetness on their
Countenances, that I was much taken with ’em.
The youngest, who seem’d to continue the Conversation, said to the
other, ‘No, my dear Sister, there is no Remedy to our Misfortunes; we
must die, or get them out of the Clutches of this vilanous Dotard.’ ‘I
am resolute for any thing,’ reply’d the other, in uttering a deep sigh,
‘should it cost me my Life: What remains? Have we not sacrific’d all for
them?’ Then considering a while their Misfortunes, they mutually
embrac’d, and began to weep in a most piteous manner: And having
consulted a while, and spake some other Words, the greatest part of
which were interrupted by their Sighs, they concluded on Writing, which
they did; and here is most of what I heard them read to one another:
‘Judge not of my Love and Grief by my Words, I have none can express
either the one or the other; but remember you Ruine me, unless you
betake yourself to the greatest Extremities against him that persecutes
us. He has now sent me word, That if we delay our Departure, he will
have us seiz’d. Consider what he deserves from this base Usage of us;
and remember you owe me all, seeing you owe me my Heart.’
I think the other Billet was in these Terms:
‘Could I secure thee thy Happiness, in losing mine, I love thee
sufficiently to offer thee such a Sacrifice: Yes, I would fly from thee,
couldst thou be Happy without me; but I know thy Heart too well to
believe this. Yet thou remainest as Quiet in thy Prison, as if I were
with thee: Break thy Chains without more delay; punish the Enemy of our
Loves. My Heart shall be thy Recompense.’
Having made up these Billets, they went out together; and, I profess, I
was not a little uneasie for ’em, and no less curious to know these poor
Ladies Misfortunes. This hindred me from sleeping, and I was expecting
their Return, when immediately there was a great Uproar in the House: I
saw an old Man enter the Chamber, attended by a great many Servants: He
held one of these young Women by the Hair of the Head, which he had
wound about his Arm, and drew her after him, as a wretched Sacrifice.
Her Sister was not treated with less Cruelty, by those who led her:
‘Perfidious Wretches,’ said he to them, ‘not content with the
irreparable Injury you do my Nephews, you would perswade them to be my
Executioners? Had I not surprised you with these seducing Letters, what
might have hapned? What dreadful Tragedies might I not have expected?
But you shall pay once for all: as soon as ever the Day appears I will
have you punisht as you deserve.’ ‘Ah Sir,’ said she whom he held,
‘remember we are Women of Quality, and that our Alliance can be no
Dishonour to you; that your Nephews have given us their Faith, and we
them ours; that in so tender an Age we have left all for their sakes;
that we are Strangers, and have no Friends here: What will become of us?
We dare not return to our Relations: if you are for constraining us to
this, or for putting us in Prison, let us intreat you rather presently
to dispatch us out of the World.’
The Tears which they shed in such abundance, wrought in me the greatest
Compassion: And had the old Man been as tender as I, he had soon freed
’em from their Trouble.
My Women, who had heard such a great Disturbance, and so near my
Chamber, arose, in the fear of some Mishap towards me: I made Signs to
them to draw near softly, and to behold through the Boards this
sorrowful Spectacle: We hearkned to what they said, when two Men, with
their Swords in their Hands, entred into my Chamber, the Door of which
my Women had left open: They had Despair painted on their Faces, and
Rage in their Eyes: I was so greatly frighted, that I cannot express it
to you. They lookt on one another without speaking a word; and having
heard the old Man’s Voice, they ran on that side.