His fabled golden tribute bent to pay;
And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,
And steer ’twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.
Childe Harold.
Innumerable as are the craft of every calibre and formation,—sail, steam, and screw,[20]—by which this favourite and familiar route is traversed, seldom had the voyager seen in its course a vessel of dimensions similar to those of the Argentina, paddle-wheel, in which I had embarked, constructed at Birkenhead by Mr. John Laird, to run between Monte Video and Buenos Ayres. She is, (or rather was, for alack, she is now a thing of the past,) 185 feet long by 21 feet beam, and with very fine, hollow lines; her engines of 120-horse power, by Fawcett, Preston, and Co. Intended for river work, and of a light draught of water, it was hardly to be expected that in ocean steaming, when compelled to carry coals, provisions, and all the bulky and ponderous requirements of a long voyage, the same results could be obtained as in the comparatively tranquil waters of inland navigation; but under all the disadvantages of being so laden, and having to make way against a strong head-wind and heavy sea, our average speed to Cape Finisterre was nearly 12 knots. Subsequently, we had a more favourable wind, and canvas assisted us a little, until we made the Berlings, (bold islets standing out some half-dozen miles from the land, with a light-house upon them,) getting to our moorings in the Tagus, before dark, on the evening of the fourth day after quitting the Mersey.
It is impossible to conceive an easier navigation than that to Lisbon; when once across the Bay of Biscay and round Cape Finisterre, you make direct for the Berlings, and other high rocks more to seaward, called the ‘Estellas’ and ‘Farilhoes de Velha.’ There is plenty of spare room for any vessel to pass inside the Berlings, thus saving some distance; and from Cape Corvoeiro the coast tends inwards to the mouth of the Tagus,[21] presenting a succession of scenery, so novel and attractive, as at once to satisfy the spectator that the poetry of Byron and the poetic prose of Beckford,[22] have failed to exaggerate its beauties. Conspicuous among the latter, though it is the handiwork of man availing himself of nature in her picturesquest mood, stands out the height-crowning, marble-built Mafra, termed the Escurial of Portugal, from its immensity, magnificence, and the diversity of its contents, consisting of a palace, a convent, and most superb church, whose six organs were pronounced by Byron to be the most beautiful he ever beheld in point of decoration, and was told that their tones corresponded to their splendour. The town of Mafra itself is a small place, 18 miles N.W. of Lisbon, containing about 3,000 inhabitants, and owes what importance it possesses to the celebrated regal and ecclesiastical edifice, constructed in its vicinity by John V., in pursuance of a vow that he would select the poorest locality in the kingdom; and, finding twelve Franciscan friars living in one hut here, he gave the preference to Mafra—a partiality which its position, if not its preëminent poverty, abundantly justifies.[23]
BELEM CASTLE, LISBON.