‘Whilst the Queen, Maria Ann of Austria, Sister to the Emperour, and the King’s Mother, Govern’d Spain; and her Son was not yet of Age to hold the Reigns of the State. She would have always Don John keep from the Court; and moreover, found herself so capable of Governing, that she had a mind to ease her Son for a long time of the Burden of Ruling. She was not troubled to see him ignorant of whatever might give a desire of Reigning: but though she brought the greatest Precautions, to hinder him from feeling he was under too strict a Tutelage, and suffered no Persons to come near him, but those she was well assured of; yet this hindred not but some of the King’s Faithful Servants hazarded themselves, by giving him to understand what he might do for his Liberty. He follow’d the Advice was given him; and in fine, having taken Measures accordingly, he stole away one Night, and went to Buen Retiro. He as soon sent from thence an Order to the Queen his Mother, not to stir out of the Palace.
‘Don John is of a middle Stature, well-shaped, Black and lively Eyes, and a most Manly Countenance. He is Polite, Generous, and very Brave. He is ignorant of nothing befitting his Birth, being well-verst in all Arts and Sciences. He writes and speaks very well Five Languages, and understands yet more. He has for a long time studied Judicial Astrology. There is no Instrument which he cannot make, and use with the best Masters. He works on all kinds of Mechanicks, makes Arms, and paints finely. He took a great Pleasure in the Mathematicks; but being charg’d with the Government of the State, he has been oblig’d to lay aside all other Employments.
‘He came to Buen-Retiro in the beginning of the Year 1677, and as soon as he was there, he sent the Queen-Mother to Toledo, because she had declared against him, and hindred his return to the King. Don John had an extream Joy in receiving from the King’s own Hand an Order to take Care of Every thing, and to manage the Affairs of the Kingdom: And ’twas not without occasion he discharged himself on him, seeing he then was ignorant of the Art of Reigning. It was alledg’d for a Reason of his slow Education, That the King his Father was dying when he gave him Life: That when he came into the World, they were fain to put him in a Box of Cotten, being so tender and small, that he could not be swadled: That he was brought up in the Arms, and on the Knees of the Ladies of the Palace, till he was Ten Years old, without putting his Foot once all this while on the Ground to walk: That in the Sequel the Queen his Mother, who was engaged by all the Ties of Natural Duty to preserve this only Heir of the Spanish Branch, fearing to lose him, dared not let him study, lest by too great an Application he should lose his Health, which in truth was very unsound: And ’twas observ’d, that the great Number of Women, with whom the King always was, and who too sharply reprehended him for his Faults which he committed, had inspired him with such a great Aversion to them, that as soon as ever he had notice a Lady staid for him in any place he was to pass, he stole another way, or kept himself shut up all day in his Chamber. The Marchioness de Luz Veles, who was his Governess, told me, she waited for an Opportunity full six months to speak with him, and when Chance had brought them unavoidably to him, he took their Requests from their Hands, but turn’d his Head another way, for fear he should see them. His Health is since so increased, that his Marriage with the Arch-Dutchess, the Emperor’s Daughter, having been broke off by Don John, by reason ’twas the Queen-Mothers Project, he has desired to marry Mademoiselle d’ Orleans. The Circumstances of the Peace which are lately concluded at Nimiguen, made him cast his Eyes towards this Princess, with whose excellent Qualities, Madam, you are better acquainted than I.
‘It is hard to believe, that having Dispositions so far from Gallantry, he should become so suddenly and vehemently in love with the Queen, as he became on the only Rehearsal of her good Qualities, and at the sight of her Picture in Minature, which was shew’d him. He never lets it go out of his Hand; he always holds it to his Heart; He Dialogues with it so prettily, as astonishes all the Courtiers; for he speaks a Language he never spoke: His Passion for the Princess furnishes him with a thousand Thoughts, which he dares not entrust any body with. He thinks no body makes haste enough; and therefore sends fresh Curriers every day to carry his Billets doux, and bring back News of her.
‘When you come to Madrid,’ added he, ‘you will hear, Madam, several Particulars which have without doubt hapned since I was there, and which will perhaps more satisfie your Curiosity than what I have related to you.’ ‘I am very much oblig’d to you,’ answer’d I, ‘for your Civilities; but do me the Favour to oblige me farther, in giving me the true Character of the Spaniards: You know them, and I am perswaded nothing has escap’d your Enquiries; You speaking to me without Passion and Interest, I may reckon my self sure of what you tell me.’ ‘Why believe you, Madam,’ replied he smiling, ‘that I shall speak to you more sincerely than another? There are Reasons which may render me suspected: They are my Masters; I must manage them; And if I be not Politick enough to do it, the Vexation of being constrained to obey them, would tempt me to entertain Notions in their Respect contrary to Truth.’ ‘However it be,’ said I, interrupting him, ‘pray tell me what you know of them.’
‘The Spaniards,’ said he, ‘have always past for Fierce and Glorious: This Glory is mixt with Gravity; and they carry it so far, that one may call it an extravagant Pride: They are Brave, without being Rash; yet they are accused for not being daring enough. They are Cholerick, Revengeful, without shewing any Transport, Liberal without Ostentation, sober in their diet, very Presumptuous in Prosperity, too Rampant in Adversity: They Idolize Women; they are so prepossest in their Favour, that they shew no Discretion in the Choice of their Wives: They are Patient to Excess, Obstinate, Idle, Singular, Philosophisers: And as to the rest, Men of Honour, keeping their Words, tho it cost ’em their Lives. They have a great deal of Wit and Vivacity, easily comprehend, explain themselves in the same manner, and in few Words; They are Prudent, Jealous without measure, Disinterested, bad Oeconomists, Close, Superstitious, great Catholicks, at least in appearance: They are good Poets, and write Verses with great Facility. They would be capable of Nobler Sciences, would they vouchsafe to apply themselves thereto.
‘They have a Greatness of Soul, Elevated Wit, Constancy, a Natural Seriousness, and a Respect for Ladies, as is not seen elsewhere: They have a Set-Behaviour, full of Affectation, intoxicated with their own Merit, hardly ever in this Particular doing Right to that of others. Their Bravery consists in standing Valiantly on the Defensive Part, without giving Ground, and without dreading Danger; but they love not to seek it, which proceeds from their great Judgment: They discern Danger, and avoid it. Their greatest Defect, in my Opinion, is the Passion of Revenge, and the Means they use for this: Their Maxims hereupon are absolutely opposite to Christianity and Honour: When they have receiv’d an Affront, they make him be Assassinated who has offered it. They are not contented with this; for they cause them to be Assassinated likewise whom they have offended, in the Apprehension of being prevented, knowing well, that if they do not kill, they shall be kill’d themselves. They pretend to justifie themselves herein, when they say, That their Enemy having took the first Advantage, they ought to secure themselves of the second: That should they fail herein, they would wrong their Reputation: That you must not fight with a Man that has insulted over you, but put your self in a Condition to punish him, without running half the Danger. It is true, that Impunity authorises this Conduct; for the Priviledge of Churches and Convents in Spain, is to give an assured Retreat to Criminals; And as near as they can, they commit these Villanies hard by a Sanctuary, to have the less way to an Altar; Which you see oft embraced by a Villain, with his Poynard reeking in his Hand, and be-smeared with the Blood of the Murther which he has committed.
‘As to their Persons, they are very lean, little, fine shape, comely Head, good Faces, fine Eyes, well-set Teeth, yellow and duskish Complexion; they will have one walk slowly, commend big Legs, and a little Foot, Shooes without Heels, parting the Hair on both sides, being strait cut, and kept behind their Ears with a great Two-handed Hat, an Habit always Black, instead of a Shirt, Taffity Sleeves, or black Tabby, a Sword of a strange length, with a black Freize Cloak over all this, very strait Breeches, hanging Sleeves, and a Poynard. All this must so dis-figure a Man, let him be otherwise never so well-shaped, that they seem to affect a Garb the most disagreeable; And ones Eyes cannot with any Complacency accustom themselves to this sight.’
Don Frederick would have continued on his Discourse, and I had so much pleasure in hearing him, that I would not have interrupted him; but he broke off himself, having observ’d that the Play was at an end, and considering, that we were to set out early next Morning, he thought I might be desirous of retiring; he therefore with the other Gentlemen, bad me good Night. I rose in effect very soon next Morning, because ’twas a great Journey to Birbiesca, where we intended to lie. We follow’d the River to avoid the Mountains, and past at Oron, a great River, which falls into the Ebre. We a while after entred into so strait a Way, that our Litters could scarce pass: We ascended along a very strait Coast to Pancorvo, whose Castle I saw standing on a rais’d Ground, not far distant: We traverst a great Plain; and this was a Novelty to us, to see an even Country: This here is surrounded with several Mountains, which seem linkt together as a Chain, and especially those of Occa: We must again pass over a little River, before we can come to Birbiesca: This is only a Borough, which has nothing remarkable but its Colledge, and some few pleasant Gardens along the Water. But I may say, we came thither in worse Weather than any we had yet: I was so tired, that as soon as I arriv’d I went to Bed: so that I saw not Don Fernand de Toledo, and the other Gentlemen, till the next Day, at Cartel de Peones. But I should tell you how one is serv’d in these Inns, they being all alike: When you come into one of them, wearied and tired, roasted by the heat of the Sun, or frozen by the Snows (for there is seldom any Temperament between these Two Extreams), you see neither Pot on the Fire, nor Plates wash’d: You enter into the Stable, and from thence to your Chamber; this Stable is ordinarily full of Mules and Muletteers, who make use of their Mules Saddles for Pillows in the night, and in the day-time they serve ’em for Tables: They eat very friendly with their Mules, and are very good Company together.
The Stair-Case by which you go up is very strait, and does rather resemble a sorry Ladder: La Sennoro de la Casa receives you with her Gown tuckt up, and her dangling Sleeves; she takes time to put on her Sunday-Cloathes, whilst you get out of your Litter: and she never omits this; for they are all very Poor and Vain Glorious. You are shewed a Chamber, whose Walls are white enough, hung with a thousand little scurvy Pictures of Saints; the Beds are without Curtains, the Covertures of Cotton, the Sheets as large as Napkins, and the Napkins like Pocket-handkerchiefs; and you must be in some considerable Town to find four or five of them; for in other places there are none, no more than there are Forks: They have only a Cup in the House; and if the Mule-Drivers get first hold of it, which commonly happens, if they please, (for they are serv’d with more Respect than those whom they bring) you must stay patiently till they have done with it, or drink out of an Earthen Pitcher. It is impossible to warm one at the Kitchin-fire, without being choaked, for they have no Chimneys; and ’tis the same in all the Houses on the Road; there is an Hole made in the top of the Ceiling, and the Smoak goes out thence; the Fire is in the midst of the Kitchin: They put what you would have roasted on Tiles, and when ’tis well gril’d on one side, they turn the other: when ’tis gross Meat, they fasten it to a String, and so let it hang on the Fire, and turn it with their Hands; so that the Smoak makes it so black, that it would turn ones Stomach to look on it.