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LETTER III

Journey to Valencia. Latin Poetry under the Saracens. Library of Don Gregorio Mayans.

Valencia, 22nd May, 1778

The badness of roads, the want of post horses and carriages with the inconvenience of miserable inns, are common topics for travellers in this country; but we must attribute it rather to their gothic laws and bad policy of government, than to the natural disposition of the people. Till the old tenures are abolished, as well as the variety of shackles with which industry is fettered, the traveller must bear everything with patience; for other-wise, he only offers an idle and useless complaint! In every town and village the privilege of keeping an inn belongs to the lord of the manor or the corporation. If a private person without authority was to make the attempt he would incur a severe penalty, and be immediately punished. Thus the privileged inn holder fleeces the passenger with impunity, that he may pay an exorbitant rent to the land lord, besides a considerable premium at entrance. In many places this occupation is deemed a public office, which everyone in his turn is obliged to discharge sometimes for a term of three years. When the lot happens to fall on an indigent peasant, what comfort can be found under his roof? How can such an inn be provided with furniture, and what sort of beds are to be expected from a man, who wrapped up in his cloak has slept all his life on the ground? But this is not all: provisions are another monopoly. It would be highly criminal for an in keeper to have a larder or even wine in his cellar; everything must be purchased at appointed places, where the wearied traveller must go or send his servants, and even then seldom finds what he wants; at these places, disdain and scorn is the least he is to expect, added to the reception of an enemy rather than a friend, and he curses the landlord, his house, and his country; for which reason the natives, who know what they have to expect, seldom stir from home, unless urged by the utmost necessity; by which means the country is unhospitable, and the traveller as much at a loss as in the deserts of Arabia.

Under these forbidding circumstances, animated by that insatiable passion, curiosity, I hired a carriage at Barcelona, drawn by mules, having previously provided myself with a kettle, knife, fork, and spoon, napkins, and a little stock of coffee, chocolate, tea, sugar, &c. with a camp bed, and other field equipage; thus I sallied forth in quest of adventures, having obtained a permit from the Captain general of the province to travel with fire arms, which was inserted in my passport, and in this manner, travelling at the rate of about twenty miles a day, I arrived happily at this pleasant city, delightfully situated near the sea, in a beautiful vale, so highly esteemed by the Moors, that they fondly conceived paradise to be seated in that part of heaven which hangs over it. No wonder then if the poetic vein should partake of the happy influence of the climate, and the Valencian muse be so remarkably inspired.

In my last letter I am afraid I overpowered you with dullness, in wandering through the dark ages of gothic barbarity and ignorance; we now draw near to a more brilliant epocha, the invasion of Spain by the Saracens in the eighth century; which brought about a further revolution in the understanding of men, as well as in dominion; since with the arts and sciences, the Arabs introduced a new strain of imagery to enliven the fancy of the poet; the muse partook of its bold metaphor and lofty slight, robed in the splendid garb of fiction, decked with oriental pearl, and heightened with all the powers of imagination. Without tracing the remote origin of poetry from the songs of the gothic bards or the Icelandic scalds, the poetical field becomes animated, and the Rhunic enchantments feeble and dim, when compared with the boundless luxuriance of the East: however, we must not lose sight of the Latin Castilian descendant, but once more behold her with her dishevelled locks, disguised under gothic drapery. Amongst these was Theodolphus, bishop of Orleans, in the eighth century, though a native of Spain, whose poems have been published in France by father Sirmond: those of Álvaro de Córdoba, in the ninth century, and of Ciprian, arcipreste de Córdoba, have been preserved in Spain by the late father Florez, a learned monk and celebrated antiquary —Were it necessary, I could soon swell the list, for at that time poetry seemed to inflame every breast. Álvaro de Córdoba particularly speaks of it, as a vain amusement and pastime, in which St. Eulogius and himself had wasted much of their youth. It is from these writers, and the imperceptible decay of the latin tongues that we must trace the first dawn of the Castilian muse; concerning which I mean to entertain you, when I have ranged a little further in this delightful spot, and beheld the variety of landscapes, with which the bounteous hand of nature has everywhere enriched this charming and beautiful country.

In the course of my rambles amidst orange groves; immense plantations of mulberry trees, and various pleasant gardens, I have in vain fought for the Olivera de Valencia, mentioned in Don Quijote. That famous and venerable tree, celebrated by floral games and rural sports, now exists no more, though the olive is cultivated with the greatest assiduity and yields excellent oil. Hearing that there was a vessel in the road of Valencia, bound for England, I have sent you a jar of oil; and some excellent olives, which though perhaps not so luscious as those from Andalusia, that Cicero was so fond of; yet I hope may still find a place at your table. The culture of the olive is general in all this part of the country. The method of propagating it, is still the same as mentioned by Virgil:

“Quin & caudicibus sectis mirabile dictum
“Truditur e sicco radix oleagina ligno.”

Georg. 2. v. 30.

I have had the pleasure to become acquainted with the learned and courteous Don Gregorio Mayans, formerly librarian to the king; who now lives here, having a good estate in this country, and to his politeness I am much indebted for many civilities, as well as great information. To give you an account of his numerous writings in almost every branch of literature and jurisprudence, would fill a volume. You have read his life of Cervantes, annexed to the Carteret edition of Don Quijote. He is now writing the life of Virgil, and is possessed of a most curious and valuable library, chiefly of the writers of his own country, with many scarce manuscripts, and a numerous collection of the old Spanish translations of the Greek and Latin classics. He is now in a very advanced age; but still preserves vivacity and a most affable disposition, added to a surprising application. During the intrigues of the Jesuits, who were afraid of him, his house and library were invested by an armed force; dragoons broke into his study and took away many of his books by authority. Oh, happy England where the property of individuals is sacred, and where the least violation of liberty, meets with a spirited and just resentment from the people; of which we have lately had so striking an instance in a case of this nature. Such is the public spirit of our country, that if the most flagitious character is attacked either in his person or freedom— I say, were even such, ever to be oppressed, the tutelary genius of liberty guards the injured party with her shield, in hopes that a due sense of her protection, may correct the heart and reform past errors; — but Don Gregorio Mayans is just at my door, and I must bid you farewell.

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