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 we[[2]] 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.’