The diary of an invalid; being the journal of a tour in pursuit of health in Portugal, Italy, Switzerland, and France in the years 1817, 1818, and 1819

Front matter

THE

DIARY OF AN INVALID

BEING THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR

Preface

The following pages may seem to require some apology, being as they are the transcript of a Journal, written to amuse the hours of indisposition, without any idea of publication.

From these materials, I was induced, upon my return to England, to begin an account of my travels in a more serious and sustained style of composition ; but my work was arrested, by hearing from those, to whose judgment I have deferred, that I was labouring only to deprive my Journal of almost all that made it interesting in its original form; — like an indifferent artist, whose finished picture has often less to recommend it, than his first rough sketch from nature. Though this may be no excuse, for publishing a Volume at all ; yet, it will at least serve to explain, why that Volume has appeared in its present shape*

Vlll PREFACE.

Iii preparing it for the press, I have been less solicitous to add, than to take away; but, in adhering to the original Diary, it was impossible to avoid frequent egotism; so that if I should be found on many occasions, uninteresting or even impertinent, I fear I have nothing to plead in my excuse, but must throw myself entirely on the charitable consideration of the Reader.

Table Of Contents

Page

Cintra 16

Police of Lisbon 22

Chapter I

Departure from England — Voyage to Lisbon— Lisbon— Cintra — Police of Lisbon — Superstition of the People' — Departure from Lisbon.

September 6th, 1817. I BELIEVE it is Horace Walpole who says, — quoting a remark of Gray, — that if any man would keep a faithful account of what he had seen and heard himself, it must, in whatever hands, prove an interesting one. The observation would perhaps be strictly true, if nothing were recorded but what really appeared at the time to be worth remembering ; whereas, I believe, most writers of Journals keep their minds upon the stretch, to insert as much matter as possible.

It is with the fear of affording an exception to Mr. Gray's observation, that I begin a brief chronicle of what I may think, see, and hear, during the pilgrimage which I am about to undertake.

In obedience to medical advice, I have at last determined to set out upon a wild-goose chase after

B

2 DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND.

health, and try, like honest Tristram Shandy, whether it be possible to run away from death ; — and, in spite of Horace's hint of Mors etfugacempersequititr virum, I have this day completed the first stage of my journey.

Who has not experienced the bitter feelings with which one turns round on the last height, that commands the last view of home ? This farewell look was longer than usual, for in my state I can scarcely hope ever to see it again. But if, as Pope says,

Life can little more supply, Than just to look about us and to die, I certainly have no time to lose.

7th. My flight has been necessarily too rapid to allow any time for the gratification of curiosity on this side of the water ; and I have passed through Gloucester, Bath, and Exeter, without seeing more of those places than might be viewed from the coach window.

8th. All I saw of Plymouth was in rowing across the Hamoaze, in my way to Tor Point, from whence the mail-coach starts. The harbour, full of threedeckers, presents a glorious sight ; which an Englishman cannot look at without feeling that inward glorying and exultation of soul, which Longinus describes as the effect of the sublime. At Tor Point we found the mail-coach, and after a tedious drag, accomplished sixty -five miles in twelve hours.

Every thing in this district savours of the sea. The inhabitants are a sort of amphibious race. The very

DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND. 3

coachman partook of the marine nature; and the slang peculiar to his calling was tempered with sea-phrases. The coach was to be under-sail at such an hour, and it was promoted from the neuter to the feminine gender, with as much reason perhaps as the ship. At Falmouth I found my brother * waiting my arrival, — whose anxiety respecting my health, as it had led him to urge the trial of a voyage, determined him also to accompany me across the sea.

10th and 11th. Agonies of deliberation upon my future plans. —

Too much deliberation is certainly worse than too little. This difficulty of deciding arises perhaps from the wish to combine advantages which are incompatible. A man is too apt to forget, that in this world he cannot have every thing. A choice is all that is left him. The world was all before me, where to choose, — but the difficulty of the choice was increased by the arrival of a packet from Lord Viscount S., whose obliging kindness, — of which I am happy to have an occasion of expressing my grateful sense, — furnished me with passports and letters to various quarters ; — for this, by enlarging the scope, embarrassed the decision of my plans.

At last I resolved to embark in the Malta packet, with the option of determining my bargain with the captain, at the first port at which he might touch.

* The Rev. A. M.

B a

4+ VOYAGE TO LISBON.

12th. Received a hasty summons at seven o'clock in the evening. The post from London brought orders that the Malta packet should carry out the Lisbon as well as the Mediterranean mails. In a moment all was, " bustle ! bustle !" On a fine starlight evening, the boat-men came to carry us and our baggage on board. — Kissed the last stone of granite, from which I stepped into the boat, with affection and regret. All the pains of parting were renewed at this moment ; — but, luckily, at such a moment, one has scarcely leisure for the indulgence of any feelings. In a few minutes we were on board ; — at ten o'clock the Princess Charlotte packet slipped from her moorings, — and we were fairly off.

13th. At day-break we found ourselves off the Lizard, in a dead calm, with a heavy swell. Here began the horrors of sea-sickness !

Mind cannot conceive, nor imagination paint the afflicting agonies of this state of suffering. I am surprised the poets have made no use of it in their descriptions of the place of torment; — for it might have furnished an excellent hint for improving the punishments of their hells. What are the waters of Tantalus, or the stone of Sisyphus, when compared with the throes of sea-sickness ?

14th. Still in Hell. — Here the poor devil is confined in a dark and dismal hole, six feet by three, below the level of the water ; with the waves roaring in his ears, — raging as it were to get at him, — from which

VOYAGE TO LISBON. O

he is only protected by a single plank, and with the noises of Pandemonium all round hinu

The depression and despondency of spirit which accompany the sickness, deprive the mind of all its energy, and fill up the last trait in the resemblance, by taking away even the consolations of hope, — that last resource of the miserable, — which comes to all, but to the damned and the sea-sick.

16th. Gleam of comfort ! — Began to be reconciled to the motion of the vessel. Though, in the hour of sickness, I had vowed, as is usual, that if fortune should once set me on shore at Lisbon, nothing should ever tempt me on ship-board again, I now began to contemplate a voyage to Malta with some degree of pleasure, and thought no more of my vow, — than the Devil did of his sick resolution to turn Friar.

17th. A fresh breeze. Our progress has been hitherto most favourable. If Neptune himself had been shoving us along with his trident, we could not have proceeded more directly in our course. It must be confessed that a journey by water has some advantages over a journey by land. You move along without the jolting of ruts, and your progress is not impeded by the incidents of eating, drinking, and sleeping. But then, nothing can be less interesting than the dull uniformity of the sea scene. The view, when out of sight of land, is much less vast than I had expected. The panorama is limited to a little circle of water, seven miles all round its. Within the limits

S VOYAGE TO LISBON,

of this circle we move along, day after day, without the least variety of prospect or incident.

We have not yet encountered a single sail ; and I had imagined, that in so beaten a track as we are pursuing, we should have met ships as thick as stagecoaches on the Bath road:

18th. The wind died away last night. A dead calm. — Got up to see the sun rise. — Much has been said of the splendour of this sight at sea ; but I confess I think it inferior to the same scene on shore. There is indeed plenty of the — " dread magnificence of Heaven," — but it is all over in a moment. The sun braves the east, and carries the heavens by a coup-de-main; instead of approaching gradually, as he does on land, preceded by a troop of rosy messengers that prepare you for his arrival. One misses the charming variety of the terrestrial scene ; — the wood and water : — the hill and dale ; — the " babbling brook ;" — the " pomp of groves and garniture of fields." At sea, too, all is inanimate ; for the gambols of the fishes, — if they do gambol at their matins, — are out of sight ; and it is the effect of morning on living sentient beings that constitutes its great charm; At sea, there is — " no song of earliest birds ;" — no " warbling woodland;" — no "whistling plough-boy;" — nothing, in short, to awaken interest or sympathy. There is magnificence and splendour — but it is solitary splendour.

Let me rather see—44 the morn, in russet mantle

VOYAGE TO LISBON. 7

clad, walk o'er the dew of yon high Malvern hill." — But, alas! — when am I likely to behold this sight again?

In the evening, I sat on the deck to enjoy the moon-light. If the sun-rise be best seen on shore, the moon-light has the advantage at sea. At this season of repose, the absence of living objects is not felt. A lovely night. — The moon, in this latitude, has a silvery brightness which we never see in England. — It was a night for romance ; — such as Shakspeare describes, when Troilus sighed his soul to absent Cressid ; — the sea, calm and tranquil as the bosom of innocence ; — not a breath of air ; — while the reflection of the moon and stars, and the gentle rippling of the water against the sides of the vessel, completed the magic of the scene.

Sat with my face turned towards England, absorbed in the reflections which it is the effect of such a night to encourage ; — and indulged in that secret devotion of the heart, which, at such seasons particularly, the heart loves to pay to the absent objects of its affections.

19th. A foul wind. A poor little bird, of a species unknown in England, alighted on the steersman's shoulder, quite spent with fatigue, and allowed itself to be taken. Probably making its way from America to Portugal. To-day, saw a sail, for the first time.

20th. The foul wind still continues. Here we are within a hundred miles of Lisbon, and yet without ahope of getting there, till it shall please the wind to change. I remember Lord Bacon says, " 'Tis a strange thing,

8 VOYAGE TO LISBON.

that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries." But it is a stranger thing to me the Viscount of St. Alban's should not perceive, that where there is nothing to be seen, there is little to be done ; and that a man must needs scribble in his own defence, — though it be but to register the winds, and chronicle the clouds.

In adjusting the balance between land and water carriage, I had till to-day been in some doubt ; but four-and-twenty hours of beating to windward have put the question beyond all doubt ; for though you may move along without fatigue, it is terribly fatiguing to stand still; — especially with the wind in your teeth. So long, therefore, as the wind — " bloweth where it listeth," — I believe we must agree that old Cato's repentance was well founded.

Sunday, 21st, To-day we have again a breeze in our favour. All the crew are busily employed. This demand for hands prevents the celebration of Church Service, which was read by the Captain last Sunday.

The deck of a ship, out of sight of land, with nothing above but the — •" brave o'erhanging firmament,"— with its — " majestical roof fretted with golden fire," — is better calculated to inspire feelings of devotion, than the proudest temple that was ever dedicated to the worship of the Supreme Being.

22d. Once more welcomed the sight of land !

VOYAGE TO LISBON. 9

Indeed, I believe, we did catch a glimpse of Cape Finisterre in our passage, but it might have been a " camel " or a " whale ;" — this morning, however, the rock of Lisbon rose with clouded majesty within a few miles of us.

At eleven o'clock we fired a gun, and hoisted a signal for a pilot. A number of boats immediately put off to us, and the quickest sailor obtained the job. Our first interview with the natives has not prepossessed us in their favour. From an uncouth clumsy boat, we have taken in a meagre swarthy fellow, with a face as red as Kean's, in Othello.

He soon gave us a sample of the choleric disposition of his nation. The captain seemed to doubt his skill, and sending below for his pistols, he intimated to the pilot, that if he should get his ship a-ground, he would, on the instant, shoot him through the head. The fellow was transported with indignation at this menace ; and, though alone amongst strangers, he drew his knife, and threatened to revenge himself for the insult.

We crept along the shore at a snail's pace, and did not anchor within the bar of the harbour, till ten at night.

23d. Beautiful day. Sailed up the Tagus. The view is certainly magnificent ; but it has, I think, been over-rated by travellers. He who has seen London from Greenwich Park, may survey without any great astonishment the capital of Portugal. The

LISBON.

finest feature is the river, compared with which, the Thames sinks into insignificance. Each side has its peculiar beauties, and, I doubt whether the left bank, with its vineyards and orange groves, does not attract the eye as much as the right, on which the town stands.

The entire absence of smoke is a striking novelty to an English eye, and at first gives an idea that the town must be without inhabitants.

Being tired of the sea, I resolved to stay at Lisbon. Some little difficulties occurred, in consequence of the want of passports; — but these were soon removed ; and after a broiling walk in' search of lodgings, we subsided at last in Reeve's hotel, Rua do Prior, Buenos Ayres ; — an excellent house, kept by an Englishman — full of cleanliness and comfort ; — and these are qualities which one appreciates at their just value, after a walk through the streets of Lisbon.

Though travellers may have exaggerated the beauties of the view, I have seen no description that does justice to the indescribable nastiness of the town. I have spoken of the view from the river as magnificent, but, I believe, the true epithet would have been imposing ; for it is mere deceit and delusion : the prestige vanishes at once on landing ; and the gay and glitteriug city proves to be a painted sepulchre. Filth and beastliness assault you at every turn,- — in their most loathsome and disgusting shapes. In yielding to first impressions, one is generally led to exaggerate ; but the abominations of Lisbon are incapable of exaggeration.

24th and 25th. Jaunted about Lisbon by land and water carriage. To walk about the streets is scarcely possible for an invalid. A clumsy sort of carriage on two wheels, driven by a postilion, with a pair of mules, is to be hired by the day, or the half day ; — but not at a cheaper rate than one might hire a coach in London. A good idea of these carriages will be formed from the prints in the old editions of Gil Bias, since whose time, no improvement seems to have taken place in vehicular architecture.

I have already experienced the truth of Mr. Bowdler's remark, — " that in Lisbon, under a scorching sun, you are constantly exposed to a cold wind." The Portuguese guard against this by a large great coat which is worn loose like a mantle, with hanging sinecure sleeves, and which they wrap round them, when in turning a corner they encounter the wind. The use of this sweltering surtout, in some shape or other, is universal, even in the hottest weather ; — but the remedy is, perhaps, worse than the disease.

There is something in the appearance of Lisbon that seems to portend an earthquake ; and, instead of wondering that it was once visited by such a calamity, I am rather disposed to consider its daily preservation as a standing miracle. Repeated shocks have been felt of late years ; and to an earthquake it may look, as its natural death. From the vestiges which the indolence of the people has allowed to remain, one might fancy the last convulsion had taken place but a few months. Many ruins are now standing just as the earthquake left them. — Gorgeous Palaces, — and — Solemn Temples, — now totter in crumbling ruins, an awful monument of the fatal wreck. There are some streets, built since the earthquake, with trottoirs on each side, which make a handsome appearance; and, with any industry on the part of the people, the whole town might be made one of the most cleanly in Europe ; — the undulating nature of the ground being so well calculated for carrying away all impurities.

At present, the only scavengers are the dogs, which roam about the streets in hordes, without homes or masters, seeking what they may devour. And indeed, where all sorts of filth and offal are thrown into the street, till they shall be carried by the next shower into the Tagus, the dogs are not without their use ; and the legislature has not been wholly inattentive to their accommodation. There is an old law obliging certain trades to keep a vessel of water at the doors of their houses for the refreshment of these freebooters. Canine madness is, I am told, almost unknown here, and it is well that it is so. Upon the whole, the dogs behave very well, — except to one another ; but it is up-hill work to a new settler, for he must fight his way. They are strict preservers ;— if any dog is caught out of the

JOURNEY TGCINTRA. 13

limits of his own manor, he is proceeded against as a wilful trespasser, without any notice.

26th. Rose at day-break, and set out in a cabriolet with a stout pair of mules for Cintra. The scarcity of gold, and the depreciation of their vile paper money, exposed me to the inconvenience of carrying about a travelling treasury of silver crusados in a green baize bag, heavy with the weight of 150,000 rees. How rich this sounds ! — but alas, the high-sounding sesterces of the Romans are nothing to the paltry pomposity of Portuguese arithmetic,— for the ree is little more than the fourth of a farthing.

The road to Cintra carried me near to the great aqueduct of Alcantara, — the work of Manuel de Maya, in 1738, — which stretches across a wide and deep valley, by a range of thirty -five arches. The centre one of these is said to be the highest arch in the world, and the view from the ground looking upwards at it, is beyond measure grand and imposing. The width is 107 French feet, and the height 230. I paced the whole range of the aqueduct, across which there is a fine stone walk of about three quarters of a mile, protected by a parapet. This vast work, while it remains a monument of the industry of the Portuguese, would lead one to believe that they were, — as the ancients also are supposed to have been, — ignorant of the first principles of hydraulics, which have every where else superseded the necessity

14 JOURNEY TO CINTRA.

of such stupendous structures. Still, in point of architectural grandeur and magnificence, it is a just source of national pride ; and in a country, where so few great undertakings, unconnected with religion, are brought to perfection, it stands like the Giant Gulliver amongst the pigmies of Lilliput. Apropos of giants ; — whole armies of windmills, are seen here on every side ; — and it is well observed by Semple, that Don Quixote's mistake, which is too absurd if judged by English windmills, is rendered probable by the sight of these, which look like good sturdy giants of ten feet high.

Great attention seems every where paid to the preservation of water in this country. Fountains of marble, of neat and often elegant architecture, with large troughs, are constructed on the road-side, for the use of the traveller and his beasts. My postilion, however, having accomplished one half of his journey, seemed to think that his mules, or himself, or both, for they fared alike, required something better than water ; so he stopped at the half-way house, with " Vinho do Porto. . Carcavelos. Colares, fyc. &c." inscribed on its front, and there fed himself and his beasts with bread soaked in wine. By virtue of this restorative, we contrived to reach Cintra ; — having consumed nearly five hours in a stage of not more than sixteen English miles ; — though, it must be confessed, that the road was so rough, that greater speed might have been disagreeable.

CINTRA. 15

I can add little to the warm tints of description that have been so justly lavished upon Cintra ; the beauties of which are heightened by the contrast of the barren and uninteresting country all around it. I should compare it with Malvern ; — but to the heights of Malvern must be added some hundred feet of perpendicular rock. The summits are composed of huge masses of stone, which seem to have been thrown up in some great convulsion of nature. On one of the peaks are the ruins of an old Moorish castle, the bath of which still remains in excellent preservation, and shews how attentive to cleanliness these Moors were. On the highest point of the ridge is the convent of Penlia, the existence of which, on such a spot, is so wonderful, that I am surprised the monks have not attributed it to the same kind of assistance which brought our Lady's Chapel to Loretto. It commands a most extensive prospect ; — but however superior Cintra may be to Malvern in itself, the view from it is much less pleasing. Instead of the fertile valleys of Worcestershire, the eye has nothing to repose on, but a dreary and barren waste. The village of Cintra stands half-way up, — nestled as it were in the bosom of the hill, — amidst groves of pine and cork, orange and lemon trees, with a profusion of geraniums and evergreens of all kinds. This is the very region of romance. The sun is less hot, and the wind is less cold, than at Lisbon. The mildness of the evening is charming, le

C1NTRA.

and there is neither damp nor chill to prevent your indulging in all the luxuries of a moonlight walk.

27th and 28th. Fell in with Mr. Ward, Charge d' Affaires, an old Cambridge acquaintance. Excursion to Penha. The convent, high as it is, was not out of the reach of French rapacity. They robbed the church and the altar of every thing worth taking. All they spared was a plated candlestick, and the ornaments of the Virgin ; — and here I suspect it was not their piety that restrained them, — for the Virgin's habiliments have not the appearance of being very costly. She wears a flaxen powdered wig, and her diamond ornaments savour strongly of Birmingham jewellery.

Upon my return to my hotel, I found two old Etonians waiting for me, who, having heard from Mr. Ward of the arrival of an old schoolfellow at Cintra, were kind enough to come and claim acquaintance with me.

Dined, and passed a pleasant evening with one of them ; — Colonel Ross, of the Portuguese service. Nearly twenty years had elapsed since he left school, but we could just make out that we had been contemporaries. Without acquaintanceship, however, there is a sort of freemasonry among Etonians, which, I have ever found, disposes them to be friendly to one another, whenever they may happen to meet ;: — and it is, indeed, a pleasant thing, to meet, wherever you go, with some face that you are acquainted with,

CINTRA. 17

without the ceremony of introduction, from the common relationship of school-fellow.

29th, 30th, and 3 1st. Still at Cintra. My landlady, Mrs. Dacey, an old Irish woman, above eighty years old, is now quite blind; but she remembers perfectly the great earthquake, and describes the horrors of that awful event. Her house is generally full of holiday-folks from Lisbon ; especially from Saturday till Monday. Cintra is to Lisbon, what Richmond is to London ; and the Lisbon cockneys are glad to escape from their compting-houses for a few hours of fresh air. The accommodations of her house are good, and the table d'h6te excellent. The charge for board and lodging is 2,000 rees per day ; —-about eleven shillings English. This does not include wine, so that Cintra is not cheaper than Cheltenham.

A wolf sometimes makes its appearance here ; — and one has lately been very mischievous.

Walked over the Royal Palace. They shew the room where Sebastian held his last council, before he set out on that fatal expedition, from which he has not yet returned ; but the Portuguese have not abandoned all hopes of seeing him again, and the lower orders expect him with about as much confidence, as the Jews expect their Messiah. Hard by is the palace of the Marquis Marialva, famous for the infamous convention. The ink, which was spilt on this memorable occasion, is still visible on the floor, — - scattered, as it is said, by Junot, in an ebullition of spleen, when he put his name to the instrument ; — but surely he had no cause for vexation.

Returned in the evening to Lisbon. Cattle much used here for draught. Met abundance of oxwains. — The wheels of a singular construction ;— circular pieces of board, solid and entire, though very narrow. The creaking of these is intolerable, and the noise as disagreeable as the sharpening of a saw.

Thursday, 1st October. Made a bargain with my landlord, to board and lodge me for 25 crusados a week, — about 3/. 10s. English. For this I have three rooms, and two meals per day, but no wine. The cheapest thing in Lisbon is the fruit. Grapes are bought at three half-pence a pbund, quinces at a shilling a hundred, and other things in proportion ; but the flavour of the fruit in general is not equal to our own. Because nature has done so much, these lazy rascals seem determined to do nothing. Peaches, nectarines, and apricots are left to take, their chance, without pruning or training. Grapes are treated with more care, and melons are very abundant. One sees them piled up in heaps in the streets, and sold out retail by the slice.

Walked in the gardens of the Convent dos Necessidades, of great extent, and some beauty. At least they afford shade and retirement, and, — what is extraordinary in Lisbon,— you are admitted for nothing.

Made inquiries in vain for a vessel bound to Italy. To contemplate a residence here for the winter, would be enough to make a healthy man sick; and the desagremens of the place strike, with exaggerated impression, on the irritable nerves of an invalid. There is not a room in the hotel where I am, that has a fire-place in it, except the kitchen. A grate indeed is a rarity in Lisbon. In winter this inconvenience must be severely felt : it is obviated as well as it can be, by a brazier of coal placed in the middle of the room. — So much for comfort ; — then the disposition of the people towards us, offers no inducement to stay. There is no doubt of the fact, that neither the generosity and good faith of the British, nor the blood profusely shed in defence of their country, have endeared us to our Portuguese allies. They dislike us mortally. How is this to be explained? Is it that malicious sentiment of envy, which seems to have overspread the whole Continent, at the prodigious elevation to which England has arisen ; or is it the repulsive unaccommodating manners which an Englishman is too apt to carry with him into all countries, which make even a benefit from him, less binding than the winning urbanity by which the French contrive to render confiscation and robbery palatable ?