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