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their long hair floating on their shoulders, with a basquíña*, a shawl, and a mantilla, in which they wrap their faces so completely, that it is almost impossible to recognize them; or they go to the mass, which in some of the churches is said at once, and which the priest gets through with such singular rapidity, that one cannot help remembering he has not yet breakfasted.+

At this mass the ladies never fail to assist in their finest basquiñas, and lace-veils. No shawl conceals the negligé of the stays; at most a silk kerchief, gracefully pinned, hides from mortal view the charms beneath. But the waist is seen in all its diminutive dimensions; leaving between it and the falling arms two neat apertures, notwithstanding the care that is taken to keep the elbows close to the body, and in a straight line with their hips; a fashion, by the by, which I do not admire, though I grant it contributes to keep the chest elevated; but it encroaches too much on our military style, and introduces a stiffness which is altogether inconsistent with feminine grace.'

"About noon, the ladies are at home, employed in their needlework, or some other occupation; for I must do the Spanish ladies the justice to say, that though the gentlemen seldom set them the example, they are never idle; for even when visiting their friends, they carry their work in their reticules. This being the time when they receive the morning calls of their acquaintances, the gentlemen drop in to entertain the ladies with their conversation; often bringing those friends who have just arrived in town, and to whom the lady and gentleman of the house never fail to make an offer of it, and of every thing it contains. The facility with which a stranger gains admission into any house renders society the more varied, and manners the more open and lively. After such an offer as I have just alluded to, the party is accepted to go as often as he pleases.

The sound of the brass-mortar, in which the various herbs for the sauces, &c. are pounded, indicates that the dinner-hour is fast approaching. The visitors then take their hats, and wish the ladies a good appetite. This happens, generally, at one, and in a few houses between two and three. Immediately after dinner, they all retire to their respective rooms, to take the siesta, or afternoon sleep-a custom I had not yet contracted, except in the most sultry days of summer, when the intensity of the heat -produces a languor and a drowsiness which are irresistible.

In the afternoon, about sunset in the summer and at three in the winter, the ladies and gentlemen all repair either to the Alamedas, or shaded walks, generally by the side of the rivers; or to the Tapias, or walks along the city-walls, that are sheltered from the cold winds, and enlivened by the sunshine; the choice of these depends on the particular season of the year. After the

• * A black silk petticoat.'


It is the practice with the Catholics to take communion before they break their fast.'


promenade, all retire to a botilleria to drink ices, or go home to take their chocolate; and in the evening they go either to the theatre or else to the tertulia.'

ART. X. A Journey into various Parts of Europe; and a Residence in them, during the Years 1818, 1819, 1820, and 1821; with Notes, Historical and Classical; and Memoirs of the Grand Dukes of the House of Medici, of the Dynasties of the Kings of Naples, and of the Dukes of Milan. By the Rev. Thomas Pennington, A. M. 2 Vols. 8vo. Whittaker. 1825.

IT T is now nearly twenty years, since even Forsyth, one of the most accomplished and classical of modern travellers, thought some apology necessary for "sporting his pen on so beaten a field as Italy." Yet since he wrote, both Italy and France have swarmed more than ever with, tourists. For our own parts, however, we object not greatly, or in the main, to this prevalent rage for the publication of journeys, voyages, and travels. On the contrary, we think it would be rather difficult to compose a journal of peregrinations, which should not contain some very considerable portion of


Mr. Pennington is evidently a well-meaning, excellent person, full of good temper, attachment to old England, and contentment with its happy institutions. All these feelings, moreover, are tinged with a simplicity which is really very amusing; and, as he is pleased to instruct us confidentially in many of his domestic affairs, we become at once perfectly well acquainted both with him and his fellow-travellers. His party consisted of a whole family-circle, an infant being of the number, a lovely boy aged twelve months.' This citcumstance which, as we gather repeatedly from the text, occasioned some little anxiety, has of course the very desirable effect of keeping alive our interest for the travellers; and Mr. Pennington is earnest in intreating our sympathy for their feelings. The adventurous band set foot on the Continent at Calais, and proceeded by the route of Normandy to Paris. Over the wonders of that remote and seldom visited metropolis, we shall not linger with our author: but we may mention one curious and important fact which he relates (p. 13.); that he preached to an English audience in the pulpit formerly distinguished by the oratorical powers of Bourdillon and Massillon.' Now, who the first of these

* A house where iced drinks are sold.'
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preachers may have been, we cannot indeed pretend positively to determine; though of one Bourdaloue, and of the electrifying effects of his eloquence, we think we remember to have heard.

From Paris our travellers proceeded towards the south of France by Orleans, Tours, Poitiers, Angoulême, Bourdeaux, and Toulouse. There is nothing very novel or striking in this itinerary: but the account of the journey and of the country is given in the same good-humoured strain which pervades the whole work; and it forms an exceedingly agreeable narrative. From Toulouse our guide carries us by the canal of Languedoc to Narbonne, and thence he diverges into a line of road a little less frequented. Passing into Roussillon, his party reached Perpignan, from whence they were to make an excursion into Spain by its eastern frontier. In Roussillon the aspect of every thing is much more Spanish than French. Chestnuts form a great article of food among the people, and are so cheap, says Mr. Pennington, that they bring them in sacks and shoot them into the markets.' The passage of the Pyrenees, between Perpignan and Figueras, is described as extremely grand and picturesque. From Figueras the party proceeded for Barcelona.

The author's journal of this excursion into Spain is really very lively and graphic, though often inelegant and even ungrammatical in its style: we shall give a passage from it as a general specimen :

The last six leagues from Figueras to Girona were beautiful indeed; large forests of pines, box, &c., succeeded by pyramidical mountains overtopping each other, made the road appear most picturesque; and in the bottom we crossed, on a bridge, a clear stream, which ran among the mountains, adding not a little to the diversity of the scene.

All around us was heard the tinkling of the bells on the cattle, which, added to the murmuring of the stream, in a lovely October evening, in this fine climate, made our ride truly delightful. In this country they have bells on cows, sheep, mules, and almost all animals; the drivers take great delight in ornamenting the mules to their tartans with many, and they have even strings of buttons to their waistcoats like bells.'

Nothing could be well worse than the roads; in many parts, indeed, there were none but such as were made by the waggons, which are numerous, and in the best of them were large rolling stones, and rapid watercourses, sufficient to overturn a carriage,

without great care. The roads were often carried quite through the forests, making it at times hazardous to move. We this day stopped at Reols, a solitary inn on a hill, to refresh the horses, where, as nothing was to be had, we were compelled to depend

on ourselves for refreshment; the stable and remise here, as usual, join the kitchen; there was a large form, with men and women without stockings eating some haricots, liver, &c., dressed in oil, and drinking wine out of the long-necked bottles. One of our party endeavoured to eat some of the haricots, but soon desisted. There were neither chairs nor tables, only the long form and bench. In these alehouses, they seem not to care whether you eat or not.

We met frequent parties of the natives, and observed an obvious difference in the physiognomy of the sexes; the men (perhaps, from our being prejudiced by the accounts we had heard,) looked ferocious, wild, and like assassins; whilst, on the contrary, the appearance of the women was mild and prepossessing, and their countenances most engaging. The noble appearance of Monserrat at a distance produced a fine effect, and added much to the interest of this day's scene; but, owing to setting out late in the morning, we were benighted some hours before we finished our journey; the hills were long and steep, and we walked up them to ease our poor mules; the evening was still, and an awful silence prevailed all around. The road wound among thick forests, with which we were surrounded; not a house or hut was to be seen, nor a step heard but our own, and there was every opportunity, both from time and place, for a banditti to realize those scenes, which our anxious friends had predicted would take place; but not only were there no banditti to molest us, but not a single person appeared to detain us in our journey, and we got to our couchée perfectly safe, though fatigued with our day's journey.'

For our author's interesting account of Barcelona, which has confirmed our previous impressions of the extent and beauty of the Catalonian capital, we must be content to refer our readers to the work itself. From Barcelona the party returned to Narbonne, and from thence descended into the smiling plains of Lombardy. But we shall not, we hope, be required to take Mr. Pennington for our cicerone over fair Italy. We really have neither inclination nor courage for the attempt. Let it suffice for us to say, that Mr. Pennington took the usual line of route; that he describes a great deal of what he saw, and that he saw every thing which was to be seen, except the majestic ruins of Pæstum, which no one thought of examining until Forsyth proclaimed their grandeur, and which, since Forsyth, we believe no traveller in Italy but Mr. Pennington has omitted to visit.

We pass from Italy, assuring our readers, however, by the way, that this longest part of Mr. Pennington's book will well repay a perusal, and next cross the Alps with our author from Domo d'Ossola, by the route of the Simplon, and range with him, not unamused, over the more frequented scenes of Switzerland; until, behold us at length quietly seated with E e 4 his

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his party at Zurich. Here they had determined to remain for some months; and the retirement of the place had an attraction which we can well understand. Mr. Pennington is enabled, from his residence at Zurich, to give many details of the state of society in that sequestered quarter of Switzerland; and his picture of the simple virtues, the primitive manners, and the hearty kindness, of its good people is true and fascinating.

From Zurich, he made rather a long excursion into Germany, in which he traversed the kingdoms of Bavaria and Wirtemberg, and visited their capitals, Munich and Stuttgard. After this tour he returned to Switzerland; and, finally, quitting that romantic land, he passed with his party through Alsace and Lorraine, and thence, by the route of Metz, into the Netherlands. Here Waterloo, Brussels, and Antwerp, were, of course, visited; and afterwards the travellers entered a country less frequented by our nation, but which contains, as we know, a great deal to interest curiosity. They traversed the Dutch provinces, and saw Amsterdam, Rotterdam, the Hague, Haërlem, and Leyden. It is surprizing how few of our countrymen visit this amphibious, precise, neat corner of the Continent, lying as it does within a few hours' reach of London by the steam-boat. And yet there is more fresh food for the mind, and amusement for the eye in that country,

and more attraction, to boot, for the lover of human eccentricity, in the whimsical character of its natives, — than can be gained in a fortnight's ramble, and within nearly the same distance, in any other direction of the Continent.

From Holland our travellers returned to Brussels; from Brussels, by Ghent, Bruges, and Dunkirk, to Calais; and from Calais, — in which, wonderful to relate, they found no alteration since they had passed through it three years before, except the erection of two high pedestals,' — they finally reached old England.

We have here been satisfied to give our readers only such a rapid and naked outline of Mr. Pennington's various peregrinations as will lead to some general idea of the contents of his book. We are sorry that he has been induced to fill his margin with what he calls Historical and Classical Notes,' and to overload his volumes with a wearisome and unprofitable appendix on the Italian Dynasties.' In the perusal of personal adventures, it is easy to forgive bad composition and inaccurate language; and that criticism must be morose, which would fasten serious reproof upon a harmless tautology or a grammatical solecism. But the bolder pretension of historical and classical instruction offers a challenge to investigation.


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