The Ingenious and Diverting Letters of the Lady—Travels into Spain

‘We are two Brothers, Madam, Natives of Burgos, and of one of the best Families of this City. We were very young, when we fell into the Hands of an Uncle, who took care of our Education and Estates, which are so considerable, that we need not envy others on that account; Don Diego (is our Uncle’s Name) he had made long since a firm Friendship with a Gentleman living near Blaye, whose Merit is far above his Fortune; he is call’d Monsieur de Messignac: our Uncle resolving to send us for some time into France, he wrote hereupon to his Friend, who offered him his House, which he joyfully accepted. He made us set out; and it is a Year since we were received there with great Civility: Madam de Messignac used us as her own Children; she has several; but of her four Daughters, those you see are the most aimable. It would have been very difficult to have seen them every day, to dwell with them, and yet not to have loved them.

‘My Brother at first conceal’d from me his growing Passion, and I hid mine from him; we were both of us very melancholly; the trouble of loving, without being lov’d again, and the fear of displeasing those who caus’d our Passion, all this cruelly tormented us; but a new Vexation did greatly increase our Disquiet, which was a restless Jealousie we had one of another: My Brother plainly saw I was in Love, and thought ’twas with his Mistress; I lookt on him likewise as my Rival; and we bore such Hatred to one another, as might have transported us to the greatest Extremities; but that I resolutely determin’d one day to discover my Sentiments to Mademoiselle de Messignac; but wanting Courage to speak to her myself, I wrote some Verses in a little Book touching my Passion for her, and dexterously slid it into her Pocket without her perceiving me. My Brother, who had always an Eye on me, observ’d it, and playing with her, he took out the Verses, and found ’em to contain a respectful and passionate Declaration of Love to her; he kept them till Night, when being withdrawn into my Chamber, with the greatest Inquietude, he came to me, and tenderly embracing me, he told me, He was heartily glad at the notice he had of my being in love with Mademoiselle de Messignac.

‘I remain’d as one Thunderstruck; I saw my Papers in his Hands; I imagin’d she had made them a Sacrifice to him, and that he came to insult on my Misfortune. He saw in my Eyes and Countenance part of what I thought: “Undeceive yourself,” continued he, “she gave ’em not to me; I have taken ’em without her seeing them: I’ll be serviceable to you for the obtaining her; be you the same to me in relation to her elder Sister.” I then embraced him, and promis’d him all he desired. Then we mutually rendred good Offices to one another; and our Mistresses, who were not then acquainted with the power of Love, began to accustom themselves to hear talk of it.

‘It would be to abuse your Patience, to tell you, Madam, how we came at length by our Cares and Assiduities to win their Hearts. What happy Moments! what sweet Hours! to see without ceasing what one loves, and to be beloved! to be together in the Fields, where an Innocent and Country Life let’s one taste, without disturbance, the Pleasures of a growing Passion; this is a Felicity which cannot be exprest.

‘Winter being come, Madam de Messignac was at Bourdeaux, where she had a House; we accompanied her thither; but this House was not great enough to lodge us, with all our Family; we took one near hers.

‘Though this Separation was only the Nights, yet we had lively Resentments of it; we were not now every Moment with ’em; our Visits were accompanied with a certain Air of Ceremonies, which disturb’d us. But our Alarums were much increas’d when we saw two rich handsome Sparks address themselves to Mademoiselles de Messignac, and earnestly Court them, and that with the Approbation of their Parents. Good God, how we lookt! Their Proceedings went on at a great rate, and our dear Mistresses, who shared in our Sorrow, mingled every day their Tears with ours. In fine, having thoroughly tormented ourselves, by devising a thousand fruitless Ways, I resolv’d to Address myself to Monsieur de Messignac: I spake to him, and told him what my Passion inspired me, to perswade him to defer these Marriages. He answer’d, “He accepted, with the greatest Acknowledgments, the Offers my Brother and I made him; but being not of Age, what we might do at present might be afterwards Cancell’d: That his Honour was dear to him, though his Estate was small; however, should always esteem himself Happy, in living without Reproach: That my Uncle, who had entrusted us to him, might justly accuse him of Seducing us; and that in short, we must no more think of these matters.”

‘I withdrew in the greatest Affliction, which I shared with my Brother; and this was a dreadful trouble among us. Monsieur de Messignac, to compleat our misfortunes, sent an Account to my uncle, of what had past, and earnestly intreated him to lay his Commands on us to be gone. He did so; and seeing no remedy to our Misfortune, we went, my Brother and I, to Mademoiselles de Messignac, we threw ourselves at their Feet; We told them what might perswade Hearts already pre-possest: We gave them our Faith, and Promises, Sign’d with our Blood: In Short, Love made an end of vanquishing them; they consented to go with us. In fine, we took such Measures, that our Passage was happy enough till our Arrival here; and it is not two days since entring this House, the first Person offering himself to us was Don Diego; He was impatient of our Return; and to satisfie himself, he came in quest of us. How did we look at this sight! He caus’d us to be apprehended as Criminals; and forgetting that Mademoiselles de Messignac were the Daughters of his best Friend and Person of Quality, he loaded them with Injuries, and o’erwhelm’d them with Threatnings, after he had learnt from one of my Servants, that we had resolved to pass Incognito as far as Madrid, to some Relations we had there, to tarry in this place for a full liberty of declaring our Marriage. He lock’t us up in a Chamber next to his; and we were there, when these Ladies came by Moonlight, coughing under our Windows. We heard them, and ran to them – They shew’d us their Letters; and we were devising on our Deliverance, when my Uncle, having notice of what past, silently came upon us with all his Servants, and before our Faces misused these aimable Creatures. In the Excess of our Despair our Strength, without doubt, increas’d; We broke open the Doors, which were fast shut on us, and we ran to Succour them, when imprudently, Madam, we came into your Chamber.’

The Gentleman here stopt, and I found he had related his little History with great Ingenuity. I thank’t him for it, and offer’d these Ladies my Endeavours, and those of my Friends, to appease their Family: Which Offers they accepted, and testifi’d their Acknowledgments.

Some Ladies of the Town, who came to see me, wou’d stop me; they proposed to me to go to the Religioses, whose Convent is so pleasantly situated, that the Prospect has no Bounds: You may see thence, at the same time, the Sea, Ships, Towns, Woods and Fields. They spake much in praise of the Voices, Beauty, and good Humour of these Religioses. Add to this, that the ill Weather was so increast, and the Snow fal’n in so great abundance, that no body advised me to proceed in my Journey. I was in suspence a while, but the Impatience I had to be at Madrid, prevail’d over all these Considerations, and I parted the next Morning. I have receiv’d of my Banker the Money I want.

But I must not forget to tell you, That the Inhabitants of this Town have a particular Priviledge, and of which they are not a little proud; which is, That when they Treat of any Affairs with the King of Spain, and that it is directly with him, he is oblig’d to speak with them bareheaded. I could not get the Reason from ’em for this.

I am told I must furnish myself with good store of Provision, to prevent starving in some places through which we must pass; and Gammons of Bacon, dried Tongues, being much esteem’d in this Country, I have therefore taken up a good quantity; and as to the rest, we have sufficiently provided. Now this being the Post-day, I would not omit this occasion of informing you of what has hapned to me; and testifying, that I am,

Yours.

From St. Sebastian,

Feb. 20, 1679.

Letter II

I Re-assume, Dear Cousin, without any Compliments, the Sequel of my Travels: In leaving St. Sebastian, we entred into a very rough Way, which brings you to such terrible steep Mountains, that you cannot ascend them without climbing; they are call’d Sierra de St. Adrian. They shew only Precipices and Rocks, on which a puling Lover may meet with certain Death, if he has a mind to it. Pine Trees of an extraordinary heighth crown the top of these Mountains. As far as the Sight will reach you see nothing but Desarts, cut with Streams clearer than Chrystal. Near the highest part of Mount St. Adrian, you meet with an elevated Rock, which seems to have been placed in the midst of the way to block up the Passage, and thus separate Biscaye from the Old Castille.

A tedious and painful Labour has pierced this Mass of Stone in manner of a Vault; you may walk forty or fifty Paces under it, without sight of Day, but what comes by the Overtures at each Entry, which are shut by great Doors: You find under this Vault an Inn, which is left in the Winter, by Reason of the Snows: You see here likewise a little Chappel of St. Adrian, and several Caverns, where Thieves commonly retreat; so that it is dangerous passing here without being in a condition of Defence. When we2 had traverst the Rock, we still a little ascended, to arrive to the top of the Mountain, which is held to be the highest of the Pyranea’s; it is wholly covered with great Ash Trees. There was never a finer place of Solitude; the Springs run here as in the Vallies: the sight is only bounded by the Weakness of the Eyes; Shades and Silence here reign, and the Eccho’s answers on every side. We began afterwards to descend down faster than we climed up: We saw in some parts little barren Plains, many sandy places, and ever and anon Mountains covered with great Rocks. It is not without Reason, that in passing so near, you fear, lest some one of ’em should get loose, which would certainly over-whelm one; for you see some which are fall’n from the top, and hang in their passage on other Clefts; and these finding nothing in the way, would give a sorry Diversion to a Traveller. I made all these Reflections at my ease; for I was alone in my Litter, with my Child, who did not at all disturb my Thoughts. A River call’d Urrola, big enough, but which was increased by the Torrents, and melted Snow, slides along the Way, and breaks forth into particular Streams in some places, which fall with a great impetuosity and noise, and make a very pleasant sound and sight.

We meet not here with those fine Castles to be seen on the Banks of the Loire, which make Travellers call it the Country of Fairies. Here are on these Mountains only some Shepherds Cottages, and some few Hovels, and at that distance, that you must go a great way before you can find them; yet all these Natural Objects, though very melancholly ones, yet have something that is very taking in them. The Snows were so high, that we had always twenty Men, who made way for us with Shovels. You will perhaps imagine this cost me very much; but here are so well establisht Orders, and those so well observ’d, that the Inhabitants of a Village are oblig’d to meet Travellers, and be their Guides to the next; and no one being bound to give them any thing, the least Liberality therefore satisfies them. To this first Care there is added another, which is that of Ringing the Bells without ceasing, to give notice to Travellers, where they may retreat in stormy Weather. They told me, there had not fall’n this forty Years so much Snow as we met with, there having been no Frost for a great while in this Province.

Our Troop was so great that we might count ourselves no ways inferiour to those Famous Caravans which go to Mecha; for without reckoning my Train, and that of Don Fernand de Toledo, there joyn’d with us near St. Sebastian, three Knights, with their Attendants, who return’d from their Commanderships of St. James; there were two of this Order, and one of that of Alcantara: The first wear Red Crosses, in form of an embroidered Sword, on their Shoulders; and he of Alcantara had a Green one. One of the two first is of Andalousia, the other of Galicia, and the third of Catalonia; they are of good Families; he of Andalousia calls himself, Don Esteve de Carvajal; he of Galicia, Don Sancho Sanniento; and the other of Catalonia, Don Frederic de Cardonne; they are Persons of good Meine, and well acquainted with the World. I receiv’d all possible Civilities from them, having much of the French Humour in them. They have travelled over the greatest Part of Europe; and this has rendred them so Polite. We went to lye at Galareta; this is a Borough a little distant from Mount Adrian, situated in the little Province of Spain, I now mention’d, named Alava, which makes a Part of Biscaye; we had there but bad Entertainment. They reckon it eleven Leagues from thence to St. Sebastian.

We had better Way from Galareta to Victoria, than we had before: The Country here yields much Corn and Grapes; and the Villages lie very thick together: We found here Custom-House-Men, who made us pay both for the Cloaths and Money we carried with us: they were not very exacting with us, because our Company was too large to be imposed on. Don Fernand de Toledo had inform’d me over Night, that we were to travel near the Castle of Quebara, which was said to be haunted with a Spirit, telling me a thousand extravagant Stories, which were readily swallow’d by the Inhabitants of the Country, and which were so effectually believ’d by them, that no body would live there. I had a great desire to see this place; for altho’ I am naturally as fearful as another, yet am not afraid of Ghosts; and if I were, our Company was so numerous, as would animate the greatest Coward: we struck off a little to the left, and came to the Borough of Quebara; the Master of the Inn where we entred, had the Keys of the Castle; he told us, in going along with us, ‘That the Duende,’ which is to say the Spirit, ‘could not endure Company; yet if we were a thousand together, he would, if he were minded, beat us all, in such a manner, as to leave us for dead.’ I began to tremble; Don Fernand de Toledo, and Don Frederic de Cordonne, who gave me their Hands, perceiving my Fear, burst out into Laughter: I grew asham’d, and pretended to gain Courage; and so we entred the Castle, which might have past for a fine one, had it been kept in order: It had no Furniture, except an old Tapistry Hanging in a great Hall, which represented the Amours of Don Pedro the Cruel, and Donna Maria de Padilla: she is represented sitting like a Queen in the midst of other Ladies, and the King placing on her Head a Crown of Flowers: In another part she sate under the shade of a Wood, the King shewing her a Hawk on his Fist: And again, in another, she appears in a Warrier’s Dress, and the King in Armour presents her with a Sword; which makes me believe that she had been in some Warlike Expedition with him. She was very ill represented; and Don Fernand told me, ‘He had seen her Effigies elsewhere, by which she appeared to be the most beautiful and most cruel Woman of her time; and that the Figures in this Tapistry resembled neither her nor the King: his Name, Cypher, and Arms were every-where on it.’ We went up into a Tower, on the top of which was a Dungeon, and ’twas there where the Spirit inhabited; but without doubt he was abroad, for we neither saw nor heard him, or any of his Companions; and having seen sufficiently this great Building, we left it to pursue our Journey. In approaching Victoria, we past over a most delightful Plain, at the end of which stands a Town situated in this Province of Spain, I lately mention’d, call’d Alava; this is the Capital Town of it, as well as the first of Castille: It is inclosed with two Walls, one of which is old, and the other new; besides this, it has no other Fortifications. After I had refresh’d myself a while here, ’twas proposed to me to go to a Play; but in tarrying till it began, I had no small Diversion, in seeing come into the most spacious place of the Town, four Companies of young Men, preceded by Drums and Trumpets: they marched several times round, and in fine, immediately began the Fight with Snow-balls, which they threw at one another with such Fierceness, that they were all very well pelted in the end: they were above two hundred who fought this Battle. To tell you of those who fell, or recovered their Feet again, and the Shouts and Acclamations of the People, will be needless; and I was obliged to leave them thus engaged, to go to the place where the Play was to be represented.

When I entred into the Room, the People set forth an hollowing, Mira, mira! which is to say, Look, look! The Decoration of the Theatre was not over Magnificent; it was rais’d on Barrels, and ill-rang’d Planks; the Windows of the Room were open, for they used no Candles or Flambeaux; whence you can easily imagine this much takes away from the Beauty of the Sight. They acted the Life of St. Anthony; and when the Players said any thing which pleas’d the Company, all the People cried out, Victoria, Victoria; I was informed this was the Custom of the Country. I observ’d the Devil was no other ways clad than the rest, having only a pair of Stockings of a Flame colour, and a pair of Horns to distinguish him. This Comedy consisted only of three Acts, and they are all no more: at the end of each serious Act, another began of Farce and Pleasantry, wherein appear’d him they called El Gracioso, which is to say, the Buffoon, who, among much insipid Stuff, says sometimes something that is less nauseous: The Interludes were mixt with Dances, to the sound of the Harps and Guitars: The Actors had Castagnets, and a little Hat on their Heads, without which they never Dance, and then ’tis a Saraband; they seem not to walk, they slip along so lightly. Their manner is wholly different from ours: they move too much their Arms, and often pass their Hands on their Hats and Face, and that with no ill Grace; they play admirably well on the Castagnets.

As to the rest, (Dear Cousin) I would not have you think these Actors, for being in a little City, do much differ from those of Madrid. I was told that those of the King are a little better; but, in a word, both act what they call Las Comedias Famosas, which is to say, The finest and most famous Comedies; which in truth are very ridiculous: For Example, when St. Anthony said his Confiteor, which he did often enough, all the Spectators fell down on their Knees, and gave themselves such rude Mea Culpa’s as was enough to beat the breath out of their Bodies.

Here would be a proper place to speak of their Habits; but you had better excuse me till I come to Madrid, lest I tire you with Repetitions: Yet I must tell you, that all the Ladies I saw in this Company, had a prodigious quantity of Red, which begins just under the Eye, and passes from the Chin to the Ears, and Shoulders, to their very Hands; so that I never saw any Radishes of a finer Colour.

The Lady Governness of the Town drew near to me; she just toucht my Cloaths, and hastily drew back her Hand as if she had burnt her Fingers. I bid her in Spanish not to be afraid: She at length familiariz’d herself, and told me, ‘’Twas not through fear of any thing else but of displeasing me: that ’twas no new thing to her to see French Ladies: and that if she might, she would gladly dress herself after their Fashion.’ She ordered Chocolate to be brought her, with which she presented me; which is far better here than in France. The Play being ended, I took my Leave of her, having thanked her for her Civilities.

The next Morning, as I entred the Church to hear Mass, I espied an Hermit, who had the Air of a Person of Quality, and yet begg’d an Alms of me, with such great Humility, that I was greatly surpriz’d at it: Don Fernand having notice of it, drew near, and said to me, ‘The Person whom you behold, Madam, is of an Illustrious Family, and of great Merit, but his Fortune very Unhappy.’

‘You raise in me,’ said I to him, ‘a great Curiosity to know more; and therefore I must beg your Favour to satisfie it.’ ‘You may command any thing of me,’ replied he, ‘Madam; but I am not so thoroughly inform’d of his Adventures, to undertake the relating them to you; and I believe ’twere better I engage him into a Recital of them himself.’ He left me, and went immediately to Embrace him, with the greatest Civilities and Tenderness: Don Frederic de Cardonne, and Don Esteve de Carvajal, had already accosted him, as their old Acquaintance; and when Don Fernand had joyn’d them, they all earnestly intreated him to come with them when Mass was over. He as earnestly excused himself; but being told, I was a Stranger, and much importuned, that I might learn from himself, what had oblig’d him to turn Hermit; he at length consented, on condition I would permit him to bring one of his Friends, who was perfectly knowing in what related to him: ‘Do us Justice,’ continued he, ‘and judge whether ’tis fit for me to relate such Particularities in this Habit I wear.’ They found he had Reason, and pray’d him to bring his Friend, which he did a while after I was at my Lodgings: He presented a very fine Cavalier to me; and taking leave of us very civilly, he told him, ‘He should be oblig’d to him, if he would satisfie the Curiosity which Don Fernand de Toledo had giv’n me, of knowing the Spring of his Misfortunes.’ This Gentleman took place by me, and began in these Terms:

‘I think myself very Happy, Madam, that my Friend has chosen me to satisfie the Desire you have of knowing his Adventures; but I fear I shall not acquit myself so well as I would: The Person whose History you wou’d learn, has been one of the finest Gentlemen in the World; it would be hard to make a Judgment of him now; he is buried, as it were in his Hermit’s Habit. He was an exceeding graceful Person, well shaped, of an excellent Meine, and Noble Air: And in fine, had all the Accomplishments, both Natural and Acquired, of a Person of Quality, being liberal, witty and brave. He was born at Cagliari, Capital of the Isle of Sardogne, one of the most illustrious and richest Families of all that Country.

‘He was brought up with one of his Cousin-Germans; and the sympathy which was found in their Humours, and Inclinations, was so great, that they were more strictly united by Friendship than Blood: they had no Secret from each other. And when the Marquess Barbaran was married (which was his Cousin’s Name,) their Friendship continued in the same force.

‘He married one of the finest Women in the World, and the most Accomplisht; she was then not above Fourteen: She was Heiress to a very Noble Estate and Family. The Marquess every day discovered new Charms in the Wit and Person of his Wife, which likewise increased every day his Passion. He speaks without ceasing, of his Happiness, to Don Lewis de Barbaran; which is the Name, Madam, of my Friend; and when any Affairs oblig’d the Marquess to leave her, he conjured him to stay with the Marchioness, thereby to lessen the Trouble of his Absence. But alas! how hard is it when one is at an Age uncapable of serious Reflections, to see continually so fine a Woman, so young and aimable; and to see her with Indifference! Don Lewis was already desperately in Love with the Marchioness, and thought then ’twas only for her Husband’s sake: Whilst he was in this Mistake, she fell dangerously sick; at which he grew so dreadful melancholly, that he then knew, but too late, this was caus’d by a Passion which would prove the greatest Misfortune of his whole Life. Finding himself then in this condition, and having not strength to resist it, he resolv’d to use the utmost Extremity, and to fly and avoid a place where he was in danger of dying with Love, or breaking through the Bonds of Friendship. The most cruel Death wou’d have seem gentler than the Execution of this Design: When the Marchioness beginning to grow better, he went to her to bid her Adieu, and see her no more.

‘He found her busied in choosing among several Stones of great price, those which were the finest, which she intended to have set in a Ring, Don Lewis was scarce entred the Chamber, but she desired him, with that Air of Familiarity usual among Relations, to go and fetch her other Stones which she moreover had in her Cabinet. He ran thither, and by an unexpected good hap, found among what he lookt for, the Picture enamell’d of the Marchioness, in little, set with Diamonds, and incircled with a Lock of her Hair; it was so like, that he had not the power to withstand the desire he had of stealing it: “I am going to leave her,” said he, “I shall see her no more; I sacrifice all my quiet to her Husband: Alas! is not this enough? And may I not without a Crime, search in my Pain a Consolation so innocent as this.” He kist several times this Picture; he put it under his Arm, he carefully hid it, and returning towards her with these Stones, he tremblingly told her the Resolution he had taken of Travelling. She appear’d much amazed at it, and chang’d her colour. He lookt on her at this moment; he had the pleasure of perceiving it; and their Eyes being of Intelligence, spake more than their Words: “Alas! What can oblige you, Don Lewis,” said she to him, “to leave us? Your Cousin loves you so tenderly; I esteem you; we are never pleas’d without you; he cannot live from you: Have you not already travelled? You have without doubt some other Reason for your Departure, but at least do not hide it from me.” Don Lewis, pierc’d through with sorrow, could not forbear uttering a deep Sigh, and taking one of the delicate Hands of the Charming Person, on which he fixt his Mouth, “Ah, Madam, What do you ask me?” said he to her, “What would you have me say to you? And indeed, What can I say to you, in the Condition I am in?” The Violence he used, to conceal his Sentiments, caus’d him such a great Weakness, that he fell half dead at her Feet. She remained troubled and confused at this sight: She oblig’d him to sit down by her; she dared not lift up her Eyes to look on him; but she let him see Tears, which she could not forbear shedding, nor resolve to conceal from him.