cruel Executioner shut her Apartment, took all the Money and Jewels he
had, mounted on Horse-back, and fled with all the speed he could. Don
Lewis restless, and more Amorous than ever, returned thither in the
Evening, notwithstanding whatever might befal him: He was surpriz’d when
he was told the Marchioness was still asleep; he immediately went into
the Garden, and entred into the Gallery, through the same Window which
he had found open, and from thence came into the Chamber: Twas so dark,
that he was fain to walk warily; when he felt something which had like
to have made him fall, he stooped down, and found it was a dead Body; he
uttered a great Shriek, and doubting not but it was that of his dear
Mistress, he sunk down with Grief: Some of the Marchioness’s Women
walking under the Windows of her Apartment, heard Don Lewis’s Crys; they
easily got up through the same Window, and entred the Room. What a sad
Spectacle, what a lamentable sight was this? I cannot find Words to
denote to you the Horror of this Spectacle. Don Lewis was no sooner come
to himself, by the force of Remedies, but his Grief, Rage and Despair,
broke out with such Violence, that it was impossible to calm him; and I
am perswaded he had not out-lived her whose loss he occasioned, if the
desire of Vengeance had not re-animated him.
‘He parted like one furious in search of the Marquess de Barbaran; He
sought him every-where without hearing any news of him; He ran over
Italy, traverst Germany, came into Flanders, and past into France. He
was told that the Marquess was at Valentia in Spain; he came there, and
met not with him. In fine, three Years being past, without finding the
means of sacrificing his Enemy to his Mistress’s Ghost, Divine Grace,
which is irresistible, and particularly on great Souls, toucht his so
efficatiously, that he immediately changed his Desire of Revenge into
serious Desires of leaving the World, and minding only the fitting
himself for another Life.
‘Being fill’d with this Spirit he return’d into Sardagnia: He sold all
his Estate, which he distributed among some of his Friends, who with
great Merit were yet very poor; and by this means became so poor
himself, that he reduced himself to the begging of Alms.
‘He had heretofore seen, in going to Madrid, a place very fit to make an
Hermitage, (it is towards Mount Dragon;) this Mountain is almost
inaccessible, and you cannot pass to it but through an Overture, which
is in the midst of a great Rock; it is stopt up when the Snow falls, and
the Hermitage lies buried more than six Months under it. Don Lewis made
one be built here, where he was wont to pass whole Years without seeing
any one. He made such Provisions as were necessary, having good Books,
and thus remain’d in this dismal Solitude; but this Year his Friends
forced him hither, by reason of a great Sickness, which had like to have
cost him his Life. It is four Years since he has led this Holy Spiritual
Life, and so different from that to which he was born, that it is with
great trouble he sees any of his Acquaintance.
‘As to the Marquess de Barbaran, he has wholly left the Isle of
Sardagnia, where he has not the Liberty to return. I am inform’d he is
married again at Anvers, to a Widow of a Spaniard named Fonceca.
‘And it is he himself that has related to one of my Friends the
Particularities of his Crime; and he is so furiously tortured with the
remembrance of it, that he imagines he continually sees his Wife dying,
and reproaching him with his Fury and Jealousie. In a word, he has
contracted such a deep Malancholly, that his Death is thought by every
one to be near, or at the least, the loss of his Sences.’
The Gentleman here was silent; and I not being able to forbear weeping
at so Tragical a Relation, Don Fernand de Toledo, who had observ’d it,
and would not take notice of it, for fear of interrupting the Relation,
rally’d me about my Tenderness, telling me how well he was pleased to
find me so Compassionate, and that I should not be long before I met
with Objects fit to exercise it on. I did not so much mind the returning
an answer to him, as the Thanking this Gentleman, who was pleas’d to
entertain me with the Recital of so extraordinary an Adventure: I
intreated him to make my Compliments to Don Lewis, and to give him from
me two Pistols, seeing he lived on Alms. Don Fernand, and each of the
Cavaliers, gave as much: ‘Here is,’ said the Gentleman to us, ‘wherewith
to enrich the Poor of Victoria; for Don Lewis appropriates not such
great Charities as these to himself.’ We told him, he was the Master,
and might dispose of the Money as he pleased. But to return to my
Adventures:
Although I had a Pasport from the King of Spain, the best specified, and
most general, as is possible, yet I was oblig’d to take a Billet from
the Toll-House; for without this Precaution, all my Cloaths had been
confiscated: ‘To what purpose then is my Pasport?’ said I to them. ‘To
none at all,’ replied they. The Surveyors and Officers of the Customs
would not so much as cast their Eyes on it; they told me, The King must
come and assure them, that this Order was from him. It is to no purpose
for any one to alledge his being a Stranger, and ignorant of the Usages
of the Country: For they drily answer, ‘That the Stranger’s Ignorance
makes the Spaniard’s Profit.’ The ill Weather has kept me here two Days,
during which I saw the Governness, and the Play. The principal Place of
this Town is adorn’d with a very fair Fountain standing in the midst: it
is incircled with the Town-House, the Prison, two Convents, and several
well-built Houses: Here is a New Town and an Old one; every body
forsakes this latter to dwell in the other. Here are very rich
Merchants; their chief Trade is at St. Sebastian or Bilbo; they send
great store of Iron to Grenada, Estremadour, Galicia, and other Parts of
the Kingdom. I observ’d, that the great Streets are set with fine Trees,
which are watered with Streams running by them. From Mount St. Adrian
hither, it is seven Leagues. In fine, I am just setting out, and must
end this long Letter; it is late, and I have spoke to you so much of
what I have seen, that I have said nothing of my Affections to you;
Believe me, however, Dear Cousin, that I am, and ever shall be
Yours.
From Victoria,
Feb. 24, 1673.
-----
Footnote 2:
_Orig._ he.
LETTER III
MY Letters are so long, that it is hard to believe when I finish them,
that I have any thing else more to tell you; yet, my dear Cousin, I
never close any, but there remains still sufficient for another: When I
were onely to speak to you of my Friendship, this would be an
inexhaustible Subject; you may make some Judgment of it from the
Pleasure I find in obeying your Commands. You are desirous to know all
the Particulars of my Voyage, I will therefore go on to relate them:
[Illustration: Town of Central Spain]
I set out very late from Victoria, by reason of my stay at the
Governness’s, whom I before mention’d; and we went to lie at Miranda;
the Country is very pleasant as far as Avigny; we came afterwards by a
difficult Way to the Banks of the River Urola, whose Noise is the
greater, in that ’tis full of Rocks, on which the Water dashes, beats
up, and falls down, and forms natural Cascades in several places: We
continu’d to ascend the high Mountains of the Pyrenees, where we ran a
thousand several Dangers: we saw the ancient Ruines of an old Castle,
where Ghosts and Spirits have their Apartments, as well as in that of
Quebara, it is near Gargason; and being to stop there to shew my
Pasport, because here certain Customs are paid to the King, I learnt
from the Alcade of the Borough, who drew near my Litter to talk with me,
that it is the common Report of the Country, That there were formerly a
King and a Queen here, who had so fine and beautiful a Woman to their
Daughter, that she was rather taken for a Goddess than a Mortal
Creature: she was call’d Mira; and it is from her Name came the Mira of
the Spaniards, which is to say, ‘Look you’; for as soon as ever she
appear’d, all the People attentively beheld her, and cried out, ‘Mira,
Mira’; and here’s the Etymology of a Word drawn far enough. This
Princess was never seen by any Body who became not desperately in love
with her; but her Disdainfulness and Indifference made all her Lovers
pine away: The famous Basilisk never kill’d so many People as the
Beautiful and Dreadful Mira; she thus depopulated her Father’s Kingdom,
and all the Countries thereabouts were full of the deceased and dying
Lovers. After they had in vain Addrest themselves to her, they lastly
applied themselves to Heaven, to demand Vengeance on her Cruelty: The
Gods at length grew Angry, and the Goddesses were not much behind them
in the Exercise of this Passion: so that to punish her, the Scourges of
Heaven finish’d the Destruction of her Father’s Kingdom: In this general
Calamity he consulted the Oracle, which told him, ‘That all these
Miseries would not have an end, till Maria had expiated the Mischiefs
which her Eyes had done; and that she must be gone: That Destiny would
conduct her to th’ place where she was to lose her repose and liberty.’
The Princess obey’d, believing it imposible for her to be touch’d with
Tenderness: She carried only her Nurse with her; she was clad like a
simple Shepherdess, lest she should be taken notice of, whether at Sea
or Land. She ran over a great Part of the World, committing every day
two or three Dozen of Murthers; for her Beauty was not diminisht by the
Fatigue of her Travels: She arriv’d at length near this old Castle,
which belong’d to a young Count, call’d Nios, endowed with a thousand
Perfections, but extream Proud and Reserv’d: he spent his time in the
Woods; as soon as ever he perceiv’d a Woman, he fled from her, and of
all Things he saw in the World, she was his greatest Aversion. The
beautiful Mira was resting herself one day under the shade of some
Trees, when Nios past by, cloathed with a Lion’s Skin, a Bow at his
Girdle, and a Mace on his Shoulder; his Hair was all clotted together,
and his Face be-smear’d like a Chimney-Sweeper’s, (this Circumstance is
observable) yet the Princess thought him the most handsome Man in the
World; she ran after him as if she had been mad; and he ran from her as
if he had been in the same condition: she lost the sight of him; she
knew not where to find him: she is now in the greatest Sorrow, weeping
Day and Night with her Nurse. Nios return’d to the Chase; she saw him
again, and would have follow’d him: as soon as he perceiv’d her, he did
as at first, and Mira betook herself again to her Lamentations; but her
Passion giving her new strength, she out-ran him, stopt him, taking hold
of his Locks, intreating him to look on her, thinking this was enough to
engage him: He cast his Eyes on her with as much Indifference as if she
had been an ordinary Person. Never Woman was more surpriz’d; she would
not leave him; she came maugre him to his Castle: where, as soon as she
had entred, he there left her, and was no more seen. The poor Mira,
being not to be comforted, died with Grief: And from that time you hear
deep Sighs and Groans which come from the Castle of Nios. The young
Wenches of the Country are used to go there, and carry her little
Presents of Fruits and Milk, which they set down at the Mouth of a Cave,
where no body dare enter: they said, this was to comfort her; but this
has been abolisht as superstitious. And though I believed not a word of
whatever was told me at Garganson, in relation to Mira and Nios, yet I
was pleas’d in the Recital of this Story, of which I omit a thousand
Particulars, for fear of tiring you by its length. My Waiting-woman was
so affected with this Relation, that she was for having us return back
again, to set at the Mouth of the Cave some red Partridges, which my
People had bought: she imagin’d the Princess’s Ghost would be mightily
comforted in receiving this Testimony of our good Will; but for my part,
I thought I should be more content than her, in having those Partridges
for my Supper. We past the River of Urola, on a great Stone-Bridge, and
having went over another, with difficulty enough, by reason of the
melted Snow, we arriv’d at Miranda d’ Ebro; this is a great Village, or
a little Town: here is a large place adorn’d with a Fountain; the River
Ebro, which is one of the most considerable of Spain, traverses it: You
see on the Top of a Mountain the Castle, with several Towers; it appears
to be of some strength; and there issues out so great a Stream from a
Rock on which it is built, that it turns several Mills: I could not
observe any thing else worth writing to you.
The three Knights I spake of to you, were arriv’d before me, and giv’n
all requisite Orders for Supper; so we eat together: And tho’ the Night
appear’d well advanced, because the Days are short in this Season, yet
’twas not late; so that these Gentlemen, who shew’d me great Respect and
Civility, askt me, How I would pass the time? I proposed to them the
playing at Ombre, and that I would go Halves with Don Fernand de Toledo.
They accepted the Offer: Don Fernand de Cardonne said, He had rather
Converse with me than Play: so the three others began, and I for some
time gave myself over to the looking on them, with great Pleasure, for
their Way is quite different from ours: They never utter a word; I do
not say, to complain, (for this would be unworthy the Spanish Gravity)
but to demand a gano, or to cut higher, or to shew that one may take
some other Advantage: In a word, they seem to be Statues, or Pieces of
German Clockwork, never appearing transported with either good or bad
Luck. Among other Discourse which I had with D. Fred. de Cardonne, he
told me, There were two observable things in Catalonia, one of which is
a Mountain of Salt, partly white as Snow, and the other part clearer and
more transparent than Chrystal: that there is Blue, Green, Violet,
Orange, and a thousand different Colours, which yet loses its tincture
when wetted; it continually forms itself, and grows there: and though
commonly the places where Salt is to be found, are so barren, that you
see not so much as an Herb, yet there are here Pine-Trees of great
height, and excellent Vineyards: When the Sun darts its Rays on this
Mountain, it looks as if it wholly consisted of the most precious Stones
in the World: but the best of it is, that it yields a good Revenue.
The other Particular he mentioned to me, was of a Fountain, whose Water
is very good, and of the same Colour as Claret: ‘I have never heard any
thing of this,’ said I to him, ‘but one of my Relations, who has been in
Catalonia, has assured me there is a Fountain near Balut, whose Water is
as others are for Colour, and yet whatever you put therein, appears like
Gold.’ ‘I have seen it, Madam,’ continued Don Frederic; ‘and I remember
a Man that was very covetous, and more foolish, went thither every Day
to put therein his Silver, hoping in time ’twould be chang’d into Gold;
but he was so far from enriching himself that he was ruin’d; for some
Peasants, more subtle and crafty than he, having perceived what he did,
stood watching a little lower, and the Stream of the Water would now and
then bring some Pieces to them. If you return into France by Catalonia,’
added he, ‘you will see this Fountain,’ ‘It is not that which can draw
me thither,’ reply’d I, ‘but the desire of passing by Montserat, wou’d
make me undertake a longer Journey.’ ‘It is situated,’ said he, ‘near
Barcelona, and is a place of great Devotion: It seems as if the Rock
were sawed through the middle; the Church stands high, is small and
obscure. By the help of the Fourscore and Ten Lamps of Silver, you
perceive the Image of the Virgin, which looks very duskish, and is held
for miraculous. The Altar cost Philip the Second thirty thousand Crowns;
and here is every Day seen Pilgrims from all Parts of the World; this
Holy Place abounds with Hermitages, inhabited by Persons of great
Devotion: These are commonly Men of good Birth, who have not left the
World till they have well tryed it, and who appear much taken with the
Sweets of their Retirements, though the Place be dismal; and ’twould
been impossible to have had access to it, had not a Passage been cut
through the Rocks. Yet you find here several agreeable Objects, a
curious Prospect, various Springs, Gardens well drest by these
Religioses own hands, and every where a certain Air of Solitude and
Devotion, which mightily affects those who come there. We have another
famous place of Devotion,’ added he, ‘and that is Nuestra Senora del
Pilar: it is at Saragossa, in a Chappel on a Pillar of Marble, where our
Lady holds the Babe Jesus in her Arms. It is pretended, that the Virgin
appeared on this same Pillar to St. James; and the Image is here
worshipt with great Reverence. It cannot be well observ’d, because it
stands so high, and in a very dark place; so that without the Flambeaux
it could not be seen at all. Here are always Fifty Lamps burning; Gold
and precious Stones shine here on all sides; and the Pilgrims come here
in great Sholes. But yet,’ says he, ‘I may truly say, in favour of
Saragossa that ’tis one of the finest Towns you shall see; it is
situated along the Ebre, in a vast Field, is adorn’d with great
Buildings, rich Churches, a stately Bridge, fine open Places, and the
most charming Women in the World, who love French, and will omit nothing
to oblige you to speak well of ’em, if you pass by there.’ I told him, I
had already heard several things spoken of them to their commendation:
‘But,’ continu’d I, ‘this Country is very Barren, and the Souldiers can
hardly subsist in it.’ ‘In effect,’ replied he, ‘whether the Air be bad,
or that they want Necessaries, the Flemmings and Germans cannot live
there; and if they do not die there, ’tis because they run away. The
Spaniards and Neopolitans are more prone than they to desert; these last
pass through France, to return into their Country; the others Coast the
Pyrenees along Languedoc, and enter Castille by Navarre, or Biscaye.
This is a Course which the old Souldiers fail not to steer; for the
new-rais’d ones, they perish in Catalonia, being not accustomed thereto;
and ’tis certain there’s no place where War is more troublesome to the
King of Spain: He maintains his Forces here with great Charge, and the
Advantage which the Enemy gains of him is not small; and I very well
know they are more sensible at Madrid for the smallest Loss in
Catalonia, than they would be for the greatest in Flanders, or Milan, or
else-where. But at present,’ continues he, ‘we are going to be more at
our Ease than we have been, being expected at Court, that the Peace will
be lasting, because they talk much of a Marriage which will make a new
Alliance; and the Marquess de Los Balbares, Plenipotentiary at Nimiguen,
has receiv’d Orders to pass speedily to France, to demand of that King,
Mademoiselle d’ Orleans; therefore it is not doubted but the Marriage
will be concluded: But it is thought very strange, Don John of Austria
should consent to this Marriage.’ ‘You will do me a singular Pleasure,’
said I, interrupting him, ‘if you would inform me of some
Particularities touching this Prince: It is natural for to have a
Curiosity in relation to Persons of this Character; and when a body
comes into a Court where one was never before, that I may not appear a
Novice, I should have some previous Notices.’ He answered me, It would
be a great satisfaction to him, if he could relate any thing might
please me; and he began thus:
‘You will not, perhaps, Madam, think it amiss, that I begin at the
Original of Things, and tell you, That this Prince was Son of one of the
finest Women in Spain, named Maria Calderona; she was a Player, and the
Duke de Medina de las Torres became desperately in love with her: This
Cavalier had so many Advantages above others, that Calderonna lov’d him
no less than she was beloved by him. In the Heat of this Intrigue,
Philip the Fourth saw her, and preferr’d her to one of the Queen’s Maids
of Honour, and who was so griev’d at this Change of the King, whom she
really loved, and had a Son by, that she retired from the World, and
betook herself to Las del Calsas Reales, where she put on the Religio’s
Habit. As for Calderonne, her inclination lying wholly towards the Duke
de Medina, she would not hearken to the King, without the Duke would
thereto consent: She spake to him of it, and offered to withdraw
secretly where he would; but the Duke fearing to incur the King’s
Displeasure, answer’d her, He was resolv’d to yield up to His Majesty a
Treasure which he was not in a Capacity to contend for. She made him a
thousand Reproaches for this; she call’d him Traytor to his Love,
ingrateful towards his Mistress: And moreover, told him, That though he
was so Happy as that he could dispose of his Heart as he pleased, yet
she could not do the same; and therefore he must continue to visit her,
or prepare to see her die with Despair. The Duke affected with so great
a Passion, promised to feign a Journey to Andalousia, and to remain with
her hid in a Closet: he effectually parted from the Court, and
afterwards shut himself up (as it was agreed) whatever Risque he ran by
so imprudent Conduct. The King, in the mean time, was very Amorous, and
remain’d very well satisfi’d: She had, during this, Don John d’Austria,
and the Resemblance he had with the Duke de Medina de Las Torres, had
made it be thought that he was his Son; but tho’ the King had other
Children, and particularly the Bishop of Malaga, good Fortune decided in
his Favour, and he has been only acknowledg’d.
‘Don John’s Friends say, That ’twas by reason of the Exchange which had
been made of the Son of Calderonna, for the Son of Queen Elizabeth; and
here’s how they set forth this Change, which is a Story made on purpose
to impose on the World, and which I believe has no ground of Truth: They
pretend, the King being desperately in love with this Player, she became
big with Child at the same time as the Queen; and seeing the King’s
Passion was so greatly towards her, that she might expect any thing, she
so ordered it, that she made him promise her, That if the Queen had a
Son, and she likewise, he should put hers in his place: “What will you
lose by this, Sir?” said she, “Will it not be your Son that will still
Reign, only with this difference, that loving me, as you say you do, you
will love him likewise the better.” She had Wit, and the King could deny
her nothing; he consented, and in effect the Business was manag’d with
that Address, that the Queen being brought to Bed of a Son, and
Calderonna of another, the Exchange was made. He that should have
Reign’d, and who bore the Name of Baltazar, died at the Age of fourteen
Years: The King was told, ’twas with over-heating himself at Tennis; but
the truth is, this Prince was suffered to keep bad Company, which
procured for him his Misfortunes; it is said likewise, That Don Pedro
d’Arragon, his Governour, and Chief Gentleman of his Chamber, more
contributed to this than any other, suffering him to bring into his
Apartment a Woman he lov’d; after this he was taken with a violent
Fever, and conceal’d the Occasion: The Phisicians who were ignorant of
it, thought to ease him by frequent Bleedings, which put an end to what
strength he had; and by this means they ended his Life. The King
knowing, but too late, what had hapn’d, banisht Don Pedro for not
hindring this Excess, or for not having timely discover’d it.
‘In the mean time Don John of Austria, who was brought up as the Natural
Son, chang’d not his Condition, though this ought to have been, had he
been indeed the lawful Son; yet notwithstanding this, his Creatures
affirm, He so exactly resembles Q. Elizabeth, that she needs no other
Picture of her Likeness. And this Opinion fails not of gaining Belief
with the People, who run violently after Novelties, and who so
Passionately loved this great Queen, that they bewail her still as if
she was but now deceas’d. It is true, that if Don John of Austria would
make his Advantage of the favourable Dispositions of the People, he has
met with several Opportunities of extending his Fortune very far; but
his only Aim is to serve the King, and to keep his Subjects in those
Sentiments of Fidelity they ought to have for him.