A winter holiday in Portugal

A WINTER .
HOLIDAY IN
PORTUGAL .

SPAIN REVISITED:
A Summer Holiday in Galicia.

By C. Gasquoine Hartley,

Author of " A. Record of Spanish Painting," "Moorish Cities,"
" Things Seen in Spain," etc., etc.

In one volume, demy 8vo, cloth gilt. With coloured
frontispiece and numerous illustrations, printed on art
paper, 12s. 6d. net.

C. Gasquoine Hartley is known already as a writer upon social life
in Spain, and as an authority on the art 01 the country. In this volume
the writer recounts, in a most entertaining manner, her experiences
and impressions during a sojourn in Galicia, the mountainous and
beautiful northern kingdom of Spain, which is still comparatively
unexplored. Galicia is the Switzerland of Spain, but it is a Switzer-
land with a sea-coast, and offers scenery that is not to be surpassed in
Europe. The mediaeval City of Santiago de Compostilla is certainly,
by its history and its magnificent old buildings, one of the most
interesting towns in Spain. Its cathedral of St. James is the greatest
monument of Romanesque architecture, while its Gate of Glorj/ is the
finest example of early Christian sculpture in the world. Galicia is an
unrivalled centre for the study of Spanish sculpture, and her churches
are museums of treasures in this art.

The writer describes the fiestas, the religious ceremonies, the native
dances, the Gallegan music, the theatre, and many customs of the
people, who in many ways resemble the Irish Celts to whom they are
allied by race. She has visited not only the towns, but has lived in
the homes of the peasants in remote villages where English-speaking
people have seldom been seen.

fi^ 1?fi-.'*** .' '^

S. THIAGO DE CcL.

[Frontispiece

A

WINTER HOLIDAY
IN PORTUGAL

BY

CAPTAIN B. GRANVILLE BAKER

AUTHOR OF
'TM« walls of CONSTANTINOPLE," "THE DANUBE WITH PEN AND PENCIL," ETC.

WITH A COLOURED FRONTISPIECE, MAP, AND
40 ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR

LONDON

STANLEY PAUL & GO

31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.

^

'\.

PRINTED BT

BAZBIX, WATSON AND VINET, LD.,

LONDON AND ATLBSBUKT.

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO A

LADY, FAIR AND GRACIOUS

WHO LIVES IN LISBON

2G1435

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

The meaning of the word " holiday " — The Holiday-maker
introduces himself and explains his purpose — A sketch of the history
of Portugal, and an invitation to j oin the Holiday-maker, pp. 13-18

CHAPTER I

On the habit of some readers to skip the Introduction, owing to
which the HoUday-maker feels obliged to introduce himself again —
He then proceeds to relate the first events of his holiday, his depar-
ture from London, the saiUng from Liverpool, with remarks on
many subjects — Havre — The Norman bank messenger, and a visit
to Rouen — The coast of Spain and the British fleet leaving Arrosa
Bay — Vigo ........ pp. 19-30

CHAPTER II

The coast of Portugal, Vianna do Castello and the " Happy
Valley " — The country between Vianna do Castello and Oporto,
with historical data — The story of Oporto — Some remarks con-
cerning Ulysses and his visit to the Tagus — The mouth of the
Tagus pp. 31-50

CHAPTER III

Discusses the comforts of modern travel — The Holiday-maker
lands at Lisbon and goes to the Hotel Bragan9a — He discourses on
the sights seen by the way, and gives a reason for being late for
church — The Lisbon trams — Hotel Bragan9a and the view from its
upper story — Reflections on the history of Lisbon — On the first

7

8 Contents

stroll round the town the Hohday-maker passes down the Rua do
Arsenal to Black Horse Square — Then visits the Casa das Bicos and
gives a choice of legends concerning it — The Artillery Museum
comes in for a share of attention, and interesting facts are recounted
concerning the Cathedral — Castello S. Jorge tells of Martin Moniz,
and others who made up its history — S. Vincente de Fora and the
work of Nunez Gongalvez — The last resting-place of Dom Carlos.

PP- 53-75

CHAPTER IV

Lisbon in its aspect as city of business and pleasure, and the
various types who follow one or the other pursuit — A word about
some Lisbon theatres and their audiences, restaurants and their
frequenters, as well as other places of amusement and recreation —
The Holiday-maker becomes acquainted with some of Portugal's
army, and then indulges in words of wisdom on several matters that
concern everybody — A short but quite learned discourse on Portu-
guese art, especially " Azuleja," lightened by a song — Portuguese
lovers ......... pp. 76-95

CHAPTER V

Deals with the traffic in the streets of Lisbon, and gives due
prominence to funeral processions — Then the Holiday-maker breaks
away towards Belem and visits the royal coaches — He has much
useful and interesting information to impart on the subject of the
monastery of S. Jeronymos at Belem — Then follows the story of
Vasco da Gama's voyage to India, with frequent invocations to
Cam oes, the great poet of Lusitania .... pp. 96-121

CHAPTER VI

A train journey to Cascaes with frequent incursions into the
history of Portugal — Mont Estoril, its beauty and comforts ; Cascaes
and bits of history — The Bocco do Inferno — The Serra of Cintra and
the Cork Convent — Cintra, its history, especially the little bit of
gossip about Dom Joao I. and the Court lady — Other stories,
equally credible, perhaps more creditable — Tales of happy days
spent at Cintra, tales of awful misery ; black days in the history
of Portugal, and all connected with Cintra and its royal palace —
The palace of the Pena is mentioned — Then the Holiday-maker re-

Contents 9

turns to Lisbon by rail, visiting places of interest by the way, Queluz-
Bellas, with its royal palace, Bemfica with its memories of stout
Dom Joao de Castro, till the train stops at the Rocio station.

pp. 122-161

CHAPTER VII

Makes mention of a most laudable institution, " Sociedade Pro-
paganda de Portugal," and S. Mendonza e Costa's useful Manual —
Another train journey, with historical information — Thomar and
its glorious chapel — A dissertation on various ancient orders of
knighthood ; the story of the Knights Templars and their successors
at Thomar, the Knights of the Order of Christ . • PP- 162-186

CHAPTER VIII

The castles of Portugal and their original purpose — Obidos and
its ruined castle, its art treasures, and tales of long ago — A visit to a
Portuguese " quinta " — Padre Antonio — The heights of Roli9a —
The Church of Nosso Senhore da Pedra — Caldas da Rainha and the
story of Dom Fuas — From Vallado to Alcoba9a — The story of
Alcoba9a, and the beauties of its monastery — Leiria and its history
— Batalha and its glorious abbey .... pp. 187-222

CHAPTER IX

The left bank of the Tagus — Cacilhas and the road to Trafaria
through Almada — The story of Frei Luiz de Souza — Alfeite, and an
adventure which befell the Holiday-maker — Barreiro — The Serra
d'Arrabida and the monastery of Bom Jesus — From Azeitao to
Bacalhoa with its ruined palace — Setubal and Troia — Palmella and
the story of the Knights of St. Jago . . . pp. 225-253

CHAPTER X

The road from Setubal to the south — Alcacer do Sal and its
history — S. Thiago de Cacem with its windmill outposts — Several
authorities on the history of S. Thiago de Cacem, and much informa-
tion about Bataga, the widow lady — Some correspondence between
the city elders and some British naval officers during the French
occupation of Portugal — Sines and its pretty bay, Vasco da Gama's
birthplace — Some reflections on the fact that a change, even of
government, is not always a change for the better . pp. 254-274

lo Contents

CHAPTER XI

The Holiday-maker visits a friend in the Alemtejo, and becomes
acquainted with many delightful people — Shrove-Tuesday at Boa
F6 — The priest and other dignitaries of the parish — Evora and its
monuments — The story of Geraldo sem Pavor — Evoramonte and the
distant view ....... pp. 277-303

CHAPTER XII

The Holiday-maker prepares to leave Portugal, but first visits
Coimbra and tells of romantic and historic happenings on the banks
of the Mondego — The sad story of Ignez de Ccistro — " Town and
Gown " at GDimbra — Bussaco and its sacred forest — The journey
northward to Oporto ...... pp. 304-320

INDEX pp. 321-324

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

S. THIAGO DE CACEM ....

HARFLEUR CHURCH ....

THE GATEWAY OF A RUINED MONASTERY

OPORTO, FROM THE HIGH-LEVEL BRIDGE

THE FORT, CASCAES

LISBON, IN THE OLD QUARTER

A COLUMN IN THE CHURCH OF BELEM

BELEM, THE CHURCH OF S. JERONYMOS

THE SANDS AT MONT ESTORIL

THE SERRA OF CINTRA, FROM CASCAES FORT

LEIRIA

CASCAES BAY ....

A VILLA AT CASCAES .

THE SERRA OF CINTRA FROM MARINHA

CINTRA, THE CORK CONVENT .

A COURTYARD IN THE PALACE OF CINTRA

CINTRA, " A PENA "...

THOMAR FROM THE RIVER

THE KEEP OF OBIDOS CASTLE

ENTRANCE TO CASTLE OF THOMAR .

THE CHURCH OF THE ORDER OF CHRIST, THOMAR

II

Frontispiece

PAGE
25

25

35
41
51
51
61

67
77

87

87

97

103

113
119
129

139
145
145
155

12

List of Illustrations

OBIDOS . .

BATALHA .....

LISBON SEEN FROM ALFEITE .

THE LAKE OF BACALHOA

COIMBRA, RUINS OF SANTA CLARA .

THE SERRA d'ARRABIDA FROM SETUBAL

ENTRANCE TO PALMELLA CASTLE .

ALCACER DO SAL

THE WINDMILL OUTPOSTS OF S. THIAGO

SINES

DE CACEM

SINES, NOSSA SENHORA DAS SALVAS

THE CARPENTER, THE REGEDOR, THE CHARCOAL-BURNER

THE TOWN HOUSE OF A PORTUGUESE NOBLE, EVORA

EVORA, S. BRAZ

EVORA, THE ROMAN TEMPLE AND THE CATHEDRAL

THE CASTLE OF EVORAMONTE .

INSIDE THE KEEP OF EVORAMONTE

GATE OF COIMBRA, BUSSACO .

THE BANKS OF THE DOURO AT OPORTO

LISBON, ST. GEORGE'S CEMETERY .

165
171
181
191
191
197
207
217
223
233
243

249
249

269

275
285

295
301
311

INTRODUCTION

FEW words in our language are so liable to mis-
interpretation as the term " holiday." The
general conception of " holiday " suggests a space
of time, anything beyond twenty-four hours, which is
devoted to purposes other than " the trivial round, the
common task." This interpretation contains only part
of the truth — a holiday is not merely a space in time,
it is, above all, a state of mind. Holiday-making is an
art, not only a recreation — an art, albeit, which exists
only by virtue of the spirit of recreation, of the desire to
see beautiful things and endeavour to appreciate them,
of the capacity for entering into the feelings of one's
fellow-men, not judging them by one's own standard.

No doubt a real philosopher would discourse
most learnedly and at great length on the theoretical
aspect of holiday-making. Such deep reflections are
beyond the power of the author, who begs leave to
introduce himself as a simple but whole-hearted
Holiday-maker.

Choice of scene must be left to the Holiday-maker,
and he has chosen to leave the lowering winter skies

13

14 Introduction

of his native land for a serener clime, for a country
in which holiday-making entails no effort, where
climate and all other conditions conduce to the present
purpose.

The Holiday-maker would take his readers to a
land of delight, would tell them by words and in
pictures of what he has heard and seen in a country
where Nature is generous, under blue skies that are
mirrored by blue summer seas, to Portugal — a
country but little visited, yet so well worth knowing,
a country where Flora's fair children bloom in sweet
profusion, where Ceres is bountiful and supplies the
wants of a people as lovable as their country is
lovely.

A land of great historic interest, too, is Portugal,
that strip of country washed on the west and south
by the ocean which had no terrors for the bold ex-
plorers who made their country great and glorious —
a land that harboured many different races of man-
kind, who met with varied fortunes, and finally merged
into one Portuguese nation.

The Iberians were the first known inhabitants of
this country. Whence they came is uncertain ; certain
it is that the Romans found them here, and found
them troublesome. Celts lived in this country,
Phoenicians and Carthaginians visited it and have
left traces here and there. The Romans came and
conquered fair Lusitania — mighty monuments still tell

Introduction 1 5

of that strong race ; and when the Teuton Barbarians
came out of the north and east, and the power of
Rome crumbled away, the language remained and
formed the basis of that tongue which is heard at
its best in Camoes' soul-stirring epics. The Bar-
barians, Goths, and Suevi made but a slight im-
pression on the people of Lusitania during their short
day ; their influence lingers perhaps in the hardy
men of mountainous Northern Portugal. For a space
the Visigoths were predominant, and one of their
kings, Leovegilde, ruled over the whole Peninsula.
Christianity had been introduced by Reccarede, Leove-
gilde's successor ; but in the year 711 fanatic hordes
came from the east and south, crossed over from
conquered Northern Africa, and brought almost the
whole peninsula under the sway of Star and Crescent.
The Christian Visigoths were driven into the moun-
tains of Asturias, where they gathered strength for
continued strife against the Moors. A great warrior,
Pelagius, was proclaimed King of the Visigoths, and
he commenced a struggle which lasted for centuries,
and ended in the expulsion of the Moslem from Spain
and Portugal.

Endless legends are woven about the obscure
history of those early days, tales of Charlemagne and
his Paladins, of Roland the Brave and his last fight
in Roncesvalles. Roland was securing the retreat
of the Prankish army. He was mortally wounded

1 6 Introduction

when, as last survivor (for he had slain all his enemies),
he wound the horn, which none but he had strength
to do. Charlemagne hurried to the warrior's side,
but arrived too late.

From out the mist of legend, history emerged
and drew definite outlines. Out of the small legendary
kingdom of Asturias arose the kingdom of Leon,
increased in size by conquest of territory from the
Moors.

Portugal was then but a county, forming part of
the kingdom of Leon ; it was only a small portion
of what is now known under that name. The name
derives from the strip of country about Oporto, for
here was in earliest days a castle called Calle. Round
this castle grew up a township, by the river-side, and
hither ships sailed up with merchandise, so the town
came to be called Portus Calle. This strip of land
extended, became the County Portucaliensis, an in-
tegral part of the kingdom of Leon. The name
then spread to the whole country, and thus Portugal
came into existence, carved, piece by piece, out of the
territory held by the Moors.

The struggle with the Moors brought many ad-
venturers into the country. One of these. Count
Henry of Burgundy, married Theresa, daughter of
Affonso VL, King of Leon. He was granted the
county of Guimaraes, to the north of Oporto, and the
county Portucaliensis. From here he extended his

Introduction 1 7

power, and his son, Affbnso Henriques, became king
and established a dynasty. Under his successors
Portugal continued to grow, bravery and devotion
led to further conquests, the Portuguese nation
evolved itself, crystallised into strongly defined political
identity, and prepared itself for yet greater achieve-
ments. These happened after the last Moor had
been driven out of the country. Then the sons of
Portugal looked out over the ocean, remembering
legends and reports of far distant lands, countries
of enormous wealth, the conquest of which would
satisfy warlike ambition and would carry the Cross
to " those who yet walked in darkness." So strong,
bold men set forth on desperate ventures, of which
the Holiday-maker will tell you. Then Portugal
rose to high estate, and the world went very well
for a time. But trouble ensued. Dom Sebastiao,
the chivalrous but fantastic young king, perished with
most of his followers at the battle of El Kasr-el-Kebir,
in a vain attempt at the conquest of Morocco. His
successor reigned but a short time over a nation
dispirited and in great straits, so Philip of Spain
became king over Portugal. Three Philips followed
each other before Dom Joao IV., Duke of Braganga,
was called to the throne by his people, and re-estab-
lished an independent kingdom.

But the glory had departed, and Portugal became
a prey to internal strife or external interference.

2

1 8 Introduction

Napoleon's armies infested the country and left de-
solation in their wake, civil war came to retard pro-
gress ; so Portugal dropped behind in the race, and
no longer belongs to the great Powers of the world.

But the country is fair to see, from the stern
mountains of the north, through the smiling, fertile
fields of Estremadura, the broad lands of Alemtejo,
down to the sun-baked plains and rocky coast of
Algarve. Amid beautiful scenery stand monuments
of Portugal's great history — frowning castles, mon-
asteries, ruined but yet beautiful temples and shrines,
hoary with age. There are broad rivers and rippling
rivulets, fields and forests, and over all the blue sky
of Portugal. So come and make high holiday in
this delightful land. The Holiday-maker will show
you what little he knows of this fair country and
its people, both of which he has learned to love. If
he succeed but in arousing a passing interest in
that which has delighted him, his holiday has not
been in vain.

A WINTER HOLIDAY
IN PORTUGAL

CHAPTER I

MOST readers skip the Introductions or Prefaces
to the books they are pleased to peruse ;
they prefer to plunge in medias res^ if possible. There
are even cases where the end of the story is looked
for at once, in order to ascertain whether everything
ends happily. This happens with novels, as a rule,
but cannot apply to the present work.

For the benefit of those who have not read the
Introduction, the Holiday-maker therefore again asks
leave to introduce himself, and to reiterate his
purpose.

The title of this book itself conveys the first
information necessary — namely, that the Holiday-
maker has been pursuing his favourite pastime in
Portugal. Let him proceed further, and, beginning
at the very outset, pursue his way through reminis-
cences of a delightful holiday.

The holiday began with the jingling of bells, as a
" hansom " conveyed the Holiday-maker to Euston

19

20 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

station. A grey, unfriendly London morning sharp-
ened the desire for a glimpse of blue skies and blue
seas ; the sight of sombre figures hurrying to their
work added to the prospective pleasure of a holiday —
that delicious sense of having plenty of time on
hand, and no more serious task than that of thorough
enjoyment at great leisure.

So it was in thoroughly appropriate mood that the
Holiday-maker boarded the big ship which was to
take him away from grey skies into the sunshine.

The transition was not to be immediate ; this would
possibly spoil the effect. No ; you pass by degrees
into a serener atmosphere. Liverpool, with its intense
activity, merges into a haze, the stately Tower
Buildings lose their imposing stature as the good ship
ploughs through the tumbling seas. Here is colour
already — a faint golden haze sets off the masses of the
Welsh mountains ; the colour moves to westward, and
shows the coast of Ireland silhouetted against the
evening sky, a feeble attempt at sunset, yet a suggestion
of colour. Then night falls, the mystery of a night at
sea, and the choppy waves of St. George's Channel
recall other days — days when small ships sailed
smoothly over the waters or were tossed about at
the mercy of the waves. From out of those creeks
on the coast of Wales smart little craft dashed out
to overhaul the full-bellied merchantmen that stag-
gered back to the Mersey under full sail, heavy-laden

St. George's Channel 21

with goods from lands of sunshine and splendour.
For so many centuries no one was quite safe on those
waters.^

But all this has been changed for many a day. Big
liners make their stately way down channel, hundreds
of lights from their portholes call forth fitful reflections
in the waters, the sound of music drowns the voice
of the waves and the wind from over the Western
Ocean, as holiday-makers and others are borne out-
wards over the seas.

Morning dawns in grey and misty, and the mighty
Atlantic swell heaves and surges in heavy masses
against Land's End, and foams round the Lizard.
Fitful gleams of sunshine glint silver on the dancing
waters, or light for a moment on the sails of some
small craft, and the big ship bears onward, unmoved.

Havre is not in friendly mood, is distinctly
reserved, and wrapped in a mist as moist and
penetrating as any to be met with in Scotland.
The big ship carefully feels her way through the
mist, is guided by devious ways into dock, and finally
rests majestically for a day or two while men go
about their business or pleasure. The business adds
to the good ship's responsibilities, bales and cases of
all manner of merchandise moving out from the quai
to vanish inside capacious holds. The Holiday-maker

' Even Strafford, Charles I.'s Viceroy in Ireland, suffered at the hands
of the gentry who sailed these craft, for his plate and linen were seized
by a ship appropriately named The Pickpocket of Dover.

22 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

is interested in such matters, but not to the extent
of inquiring into the nature and destination of those
bales and cases ; rather would he weave romance
around them, as they loom through the mist and
vanish, to reappear in some distant land for the
use of some stranger people.

But all around are places of great interest.
Across the broad estuary of the Seine lies Honfleur,
an historic spot, and one which has its bearing on
English history, for near there, hidden among trees,
covered over with kindly ivy, is the ruined abbey
of St. Arnoud, where, it is said, Harold the Saxon
swore by the bones of the saint who lies buried there
to renounce the throne of England in favour of his
host, perchance jailer, William, Duke of Normandy.
Then again, on the north bank of the river, and
within an easy walk, lies Harfleur, with the graceful
spire of its church, built by an Englishman, reflected
in the sluggish waters of a little river. Here are
faint traces of a castle which took its part in history.
English and French held it in turn, desperate fighting
took place around it, and these things are still
remembered by the kindly Normans who live there.
Thus one worthy, a big-boned man with flowing
white beard, told the Holiday-maker with great
enjoyment of how, during the wars between England
and France, the French effected entrance into the
castle by a ruse, and the English garrison, alarmed.

The Norman Bank^Messcnger 23

streamed out into the night clad only in their
shirts.

Yet further on, up the Seine river, is a fair city
which the Holiday-maker loves well, and he took
train there, in chance company of a round-headed
Norman. This gentleman proved to be full of
information, and ready to impart it. He pointed
out to the Holiday-maker the beauties of the Norman
landscape, where the train winds round high hills,
or, getting weary of circumlocution, tears through a
cutting or dashes shrieking into a tunnel, emerging
to pant up some incline, at the foot of which gleams
the river Seine. The round-headed Norman emphati-
cally declared that the landscape, which still showed
patches of snow, is much more beautiful in summer.
Then followed some purely personal information. Does
monsieur know why his travelling-companion wears
such old clothes, and shabby ? The Holiday-maker,
judging by himself, suggests that perhaps there are
no others in immediate prospect. No, not so, not
so at all. At home, mind you, put away for use on
Sundays, is a coat of glossy black, with other garments
to match, and all of the most " chic." On such occa-
sions, too, a white collar and a cravatte replace the
black-and-red checked neck-cloth. But the reason
for the present disguise is this — and the Norman
pointed mysteriously to a padlocked black leather bag.
This bag contains much money, " for know you,

24 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

monsieur, that I who speak to you am a bank-
messenger, that my unobtrusive costume is but the
disguise I don to conceal the vast responsibility laid
upon me." The object is attained completely, as-
surance to that effect still further strengthens the
entente cordiale \ Norman bank-messenger and Holi-
day-maker parted with expressions of the highest
regard for each other, personally and as representatives
of neighbour nations, great and friendly.

One last dive into a tunnel, then the train slows
down, and rumbles into a station. Here is Rouen,
fair to look upon, famous in history. Here are broad
avenues with modern shops and excellent restaurants
down by the swift-flowing river ; here are narrow,
old-world streets, and quaint relics of bygone days,
" La Grande Horloge," odd corners under the
shadow of the great cathedral, the little " Rue des
Quatre Vents," where indeed the winter wind searches
you out and finds you ; here are peeps of old gabled
houses, surmounted by some graceful, towering spire.
Then there is the vast majesty of the cathedral with
its glorious west fa9ade, the church of St. Ouen
with its delicate stone tracery and graceful columns,
and yet a little further on a grim tower, that of Joan
of Arc, which tells of dark mediaeval superstition, of
ugly vengefulness and incredible credulity.

But lovely as it is, and full of interest, Rouen
does not at this time of the year offer what the

.-. ■ /*^-H

i^<*j

?.'V

25

Arrosa Bay 27

Holiday-maker has come out to see. So back to
the big ship and away, out to sea again, over the
Bay of Biscay, much maligned, for it is smooth
and pleasant to look upon as we sail out of the
mist into the pearly light of a brisk winter morning.

Then land rises out of the morning, a rough,
rugged coast, standing in bold, swinging outline
against the rising sun. The air is clearer, though
an opalescent haze still softens the hard contours of
the coast of Spain ; colour is stronger, coaxed out
by the rays of sunshine ; and that huge fleet of
British battleships, steaming out of Arrosa Bay,
merges into the scheme of pearly grey, topaz,
emerald, and delicate pink of sky and sea. The
grey, wave-washed hulls reflect the colours that
surround them ; the glass of a port-hole glints like
a diamond here and there in response to the silver
flashing of the waters. Fluttering pennants and the
red cross of St. George on the flowing white ensign
add to the forceful effect, as the vast engines of
war hold on their course in sternly ordered array.

The sun rises high in the heavens and sparkles
on the foam that dashes against the rocks in the
long swinging swell of the Atlantic. The morning
mists have vanished, and the coast-line stands out
strong and rugged ; surely there is little hope of
welcome on this forbidding-looking coast ! But no !
As we draw nearer the rocky masses [divide, open

28 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

out into a broad, winding channel, cunningly hidden
from view by barren islands ; the estuary widens,
and we drop anchor in a large harbour, opposite a
small town. This is Vigo, a place of great import-
ance, with one of the finest harbours on the coast,
a fi-equent port of call for England's war-fleet. Soon
picturesque humanity is seething round the sides of
our big ship ; launches, tenders, boats of all sizes
surround us, and send emigrants swarming up the
companion-ladder, for this ship has got to go right
across the Atlantic, far south, to countries dis-
covered by the forbears of the very men who are
leaving their old surroundings to woo Dame Fortune
elsewhere. The usual bum-boat is much in evidence ;
its ragged, bare-footed complement extols the virtue
of stores of golden oranges, of parrots, green, or
grey with saucy pink under the wings, of many
other wares, which seldom seem to find a purchaser.
The persistence of the bum-boat merchant is
touching — how many travellers invest in the trea-
sures offered at such elastic prices ? Does ever the
most determined holiday-maker set out on his voyage
with a parrot, green or grey and pink, however
eloquent ?

In contrast to the life around the ship lies the
sleepy town of Vigo ; smoke rises lazily from many
chimneys, heralding the midday meal, to be followed
by siesta, though that condition seems to obtain

Vigo 29

already. No doubt the old castle has known stirring
times. Watchers on the ramparts, looking out to
sea, would espy white sails bearing in towards the
sheltered harbour, heavy galleons would drop anchor
or tie up alongside, and then the narrow streets
would fill with swarthy sailors and curious landsmen,
eager to hear of those rich countries far across the
ocean, countries conquered by the sons of Spain,
countries peopled by strange races which paid the
tribute carried by these galleons. Then, again, a
battered ship would struggle in wearily, for Drake
and his hornets were out, and all the coast-line was
unsafe. Then the men in the castle looked to the
priming of their guns, and kept their eyes fixed on
the entrance to the harbour.

Those days are past, and English warships are
welcome in Vi2:o harbour. But other excitement
following on historic events has not been wanting
recently. News came one October morning of a
sudden revolution in the neighbour country, Portugal,
news of the flight of a king and of the popular up-
heaval which had caused it. Then came adherents
of the old order, disappointed men, and made Vigo
their headquarters. There, like disappointed men,
they grumbled and plotted, and were finally requested
to move further inland, further from the frontier of
their own country.

But a little further south a stream flows into the

30 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

ocean at Caminha, the Minho, and this stream forms
the boundary between Spain and Portugal whither
we are bound. So our good ship swings out into
the open sea by another channel, out into the western
sea, where the sun is setting, to rise over a continent
discovered by the energy and daring of those who
lived on this rocky coast.

Sunset and a clear southern sky, starlight reflected
on the restless waters, as we pursue our way south-
ward.

CHAPTER II

HIGH mountains to eastward stand out massive
and blue against the sunrise ; for a moment
the strong outline quivers in an aura of bright colours,
then the sun rises, suddenly it seems, and gives to
each feature of the landscape its proper proportion.
The mountains recede, and shy villages, little white
houses, which nestled in the shade till now, are
suddenly illumined, and take their proper place.
Another day is here, and its light detaches the details
of the varied scene, shows human habitations, and
men going about their business. This lies on the
water along the coast ; witness the many white sails,
out in the west, gleaming in the light of the newly
risen sun. There is a joyous freshness in the air, a
feeling of strength and purpose.

Our big ship conveys us through the fleet of
fishing-boats with their crews of sunburnt seafarers,
who have toiled all night. They now transfer their
glittering catch to small, busy steamers, which dart
out from the hidden harbours among the rocks, and
dash back again with an air of bustle and great

31

32 Winter Holiday in Portugal

importance. And their business is indeed important,
for the welfare of many bright-eyed women and sturdy
children depends upon the labours of these toilers of
the sea.

How many Britons have passed along this coast
out into the Far East ? How many have wondered
what manner of men live on this rocky shore, and
how they live and have their being? How many
have passed by without stopping ? Among these the
Holiday-maker was to be reckoned, but he never
passed by here without longing for an answer to
his questions. And now he has been granted an
insight, a glimpse only, into this country with its
rock-bound coast, has been privileged to visit some
of those nestling villages and pretty little towns
basking in the light of the newly risen sun. It is
the fulfilment of this desire, the pleasing memory
of all the lovely sights he saw, which now leads
him to express himself with pen and pencil.

Here let it be definitely stated in all humility
that the Holiday-maker is a singularly fortunate
mortal. His lot is cast on pleasant lines, and
Fortune has further favoured him with many friends,
good and true. Led by such pleasant experience
of his fellow-men, he is ever ready to add to this
genial host of friends, and much desires to enroll
his readers. Therefore, as first evidence of friendly
feeling, he would share with his readers the pleasant

Vianna do CastcIIo 33

memories of this winter holiday, would lead them
through the lovely country where that holiday was
spent, would make them acquainted with that lovable
people, all those who live in Portugal, who made
that holiday yet more delightful.

The big ship holds on her steady course, but we
will deviate and yield to the temptation of entering
one of those small harbours. There, round that bluff
headland, the point of Santa Luzia, lies a pretty
little town, well worth a visit. No big liners ever call
here, at Vianna do Castello,^ with its white houses, its
church towers, picked out against the dark background
of firs and pines and evergreens. Beyond those pleasant
woods again are heights, and they close in upon a gently
flowing river, famous in legend and history.

This is the Lima, which, born of virgin snow,
winds down from those vast mountains into one of
the loveliest vales on earth, the valley of the Lima,
known to the Romans as the " Happy Valley."
Here it was that a Roman legion, forgetful of
duty, disregarding Caesar's commands, mutinied when
ordered back to Imperial Rome : they would not
leave this " Happy Valley." Of an evening, when
pink clouds, coloured by the last rays of the setting
sun, mirror themselves on the broad, smooth sur-
face of the waters, whispering voices of waving reeds
commune with the trees of the forests. The soft

* Capital of the District, 10,000 inhabitants ; Hotel Central.

34 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

evening breeze, breathing the pure air of the moun-
tains, laden with the scent of the pine trees, searches
out hidden nooks and crannies. Then Diana awakes,
and her maidens, and their white, flowing garments
gleam in the Hght of the crescent as it flows through
the lace-work of branches. When the full moon
hangs low and golden over the mountains^ then
Bacchus and his followers meet and hold high holi-
day, for Bacchus sought out this valley as his place
of exile when the Cross drove him from his high
estate. But the gods are not dead, and the worship
of Bacchus is no mere dream of the past.

The ancient town of Vianna dreams too, as the
rippling waters flash in the silvery moonlight.
Dreams of long-forgotten days, of the men of Celtic
race, whose ruined habitation may yet be seen on
the heights of Santa Luzia. Dreams of more recent
days when the town took shape at the mouth of
the Lima, and bred bold, venturesome men who
sailed out into the west. For many years these
seafarers, having obtained concessions from the Kings
of England, came to fish off the English coasts.
They then went further and established the fisheries
on the banks of Newfoundland ; their ships returned
with quantities of dried cod, called ' bacalhao ' and
much beloved of the Portuguese people. There
was also a brisk trade between Vianna and English
ports, Portuguese merchants paying for English

35

Vianna do CastcIIo 37

goods with the wines of Portugal. Thus was port
introduced into England, to the great contentment
of many, for, as a Portuguese proverb hath it,
"Good wine makes a soft bed." It may well do
so, for the beds in Northern Portugal are very
hard, to which fact the bones of the Holiday-maker
bear testimony. He retired to bed at Vianna, very
tired, after a glorious day in the forest and on the
heights of Santa Luzia, to awake the next morning with
a set of limbs that did not appear to be his own, until
movement painfully restored them to their different
uses. Nevertheless a pillow apparently filled with
sand and a bed of what seemed made of unyielding
masonry did not rob him of his rest nor chase away
dreams of " green days in forest, and blue days at sea."
But the palmy days of Vianna do Castello have
departed. It was at one time the only place of
export for the wines of Northern Portugal ; it had
many rich monasteries and convents. Now, since
the end of the seventeenth century. Oporto has
absorbed the trade, the monasteries and convents
stand deserted, and Vianna sleeps in the sunshine.
It is still attractive, more so, perhaps, in its present
state of quietude, with its fine old houses, displaying
here and there a Manueline door or window. There
are pleasant gardens by the river side, palms, and
the perfume of golden mimosa and the glory of the
Judas tree in blossom ; here you may sit and
3

38 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

watch fishermen spearing fish out on the sparkling
river.

The wooded heights that enclose the town hide
much that is beautiful. Fortune here again favoured
the Holiday-maker; he found a friend who led him
out into the hills to a monastery long deserted, yet
alive with pathetic interest — a small monastery,
dating from the fourteenth century, hidden amongst
the hills, embowered in pines and ilex trees. An
ancient stone-flagged road leads to its portal
crowned with the image of the patron saint. Great
magnolia trees, decked with red blossoms of unusual
size and perfect symmetry, cast their shadow on the
grey, moss-clad walls. The magnolia is, by the
way, the oldest-known flowering tree ; petals of its
blossoms have been found in geological strata, bear-
ing testimony to its venerable age. Camellias dis-
play their waxen petals, fair flowers grow in the
garden everywhere. The monastery stands just as
the good monks left it, but here and there are signs
of decay, and a wistful silence reigns in the cells,
the simple refectory, and those more elaborate rooms
where visitors were received. The chapel is the
most pathetic — rude but well-meant frescoes, paintings,
touching in their imperfection are fading from the
walls, the altar-rails are broken, and on the bare altar
still stands an illuminated missal. Above the altar
is the carved shrine, its gilding tarnished, its sacred

Vianna do Castello 39

images and floral offerings dust-covered — yet the
sense of incense lingers here. The deserted sanc-
tuary yet breathes the spirit of devotion, simple and
sincere, and answer comes from rustling forest trees,
and clear, cool fountains in shady places ; worship
and reverence is in the voice of the breeze that
bears hither as incense the scent of the pine woods
and the perfume of flowers.

From the heights of Santa Luzia, where a modern
temple is in course of construction, a bronze figure
looks down upon the town of Vianna. It is a figure
of Christ, the work of a Portuguese sculptor, Queiroz
Ribeiro, and it should rank among the most beautiful
of man's handiwork. In conception it is entirely free
from convention. There are none of the traditional
emblems, there is no halo, there are no marks of the
Passion: a simple figure, intensely human, and divine in
its humanity, seems to be urged forward by endless com-
passion towards the mortals in the valley below. It is
indeed a work of genius, sincere, and of singular beauty.

But the Holiday-maker must return to the big
ship, for he has decided to become acquainted with
the capital of Portugal and as much of the surround-
ing country as a short holiday allows. So a fleeting
glance at the country is all that the present occasion
calls for. Behind that stern coast, exposed to the
full force of the Atlantic, lies a country beautiful, rich,
and full of historic interest. There are terraces where

40 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

the vines grow in the sunshine, there are broad fields
and fat meadows, cosy homesteads embowered in
blooming fruit-trees, white masses of apple blossom
and of pear, sprays of pink almond, cool streams of
green water rolling down from the hills, and behind
all the serried ranks of snow-clad mountains.

From beyond those mountains came the men that
made Portugal. There was the small kingdom of
Leon, which was saved by its inaccessibility from the
inroads of the Moors. It developed and gained
strength. Adventurers came from the north to fight
for the Cross, and no doubt for their own advantage.
Among these was Henry, Count of Burgundy, who
married Dona Teresa, daughter of King Affonso
of Leon. Count Henry made Leobriga, an ancient
Gothic stronghold, his capital, and as Guimaraes the
place became the cradle of a race of kings. Count
Henry rebuilt the castle, and ruled wisely. It is said
that he introduced the vine from Burgundy, but both
Seneca and Pliny found the people of this country
well acquainted with viniculture. Count Henry died
young, and his able wife reigned in his stead during
his infant son's minority. She asserted the inde-
pendence of Portugal, which then consisted of only
two counties, Guimaraes and the country about Oporto.
But these she handed over to her son as one compact
realm, and Dom Affonso Henriques came into a goodly
heritage. Starting with this advantage, the young

41

Guimar^cs, Leixoes, Oporto 43

prince set himself the task of freeing the country to
the south of the Moorish invaders, carving out a new
kingdom for himself We shall see how he succeeded,
how his sword gained victory on victory, how he
was proclaimed king by his army and founded a
dynasty of strong rulers, as we pursue our way
through Portugal.

Guimaraes was Dom Affonso Henriques' starting-
place, Oporto his point d'appui, and thither the good
ship is taking us. We land at the outside port,
Leixoes, for big liners do not go up the river to
Oporto. Having landed, an electric tram takes us
along the river up to Oporto. Our way is very
beautiful, by the banks of broad Douro, fringed with
forests of masts. Signs of activity increase as we
approach, tugs and small boats crossing over from
one bank to the other, and there is a constant stream
of wayfarers over high- and low-level bridges. The
town of Oporto rises from the river level on the
right bank to the ridge that is crowned at its highest
point by the cathedral, the bishop's palace, and the
ruins of the old castle.

The history of Oporto began on the southern bank
where now stands Villa Nova de Gaia. Here stood
a castle called Calle ; its walls, enclosing a small
township, extended down to the river, where ships
used to anchor. Hence the name Portus Calle, Portus
Calliensis, finally extending as Portugal over all the

44 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

territory regained from the Moors, a fact of which
Oporto is justly proud. The small township then
extended to the northern bank, retaining its name,
and settling round a fortress called Pena Ventosa.
Others say that the Suevi, driven from the north of
Spain by the Goths, built a castle here in 417 ; as a
matter of fact, the earliest history of the city is
wrapped in mystery, and it was not till the town,
castle, and surrounding country, as the county Portu-
caliensis, came to be part of the kingdom of Leon,
that its history assumed definite outlines. The Moors
called here, of course, and in 937, led by Alman9or
of Cordova, destroyed Pena Ventosa. Sixty years
later the Bishop of Vandome sent a band of Gascons
here to rebuild the castle and drive out the Moors.
Since then Oporto has grown in importance, and
considers itself quite the equal of Lisbon, the capital
of the country. It was with great regret that the
Holiday-maker tore himself away from Oporto after a
very short stay, for he has friends there too, and found
much of beauty and of interest to record — so much,
in fact, that both country and people of Oporto, of all
Northern Portugal, are entitled to separate treatment.
Out into the western sea once more for a last
few hours on board the big ship, passing southward
down the coast of Portugal, until the lights on shore
pale before the rising sun, and a broad gap in the
coast-line opens invitingly.

Ulysses 45

Legend has been busy here, talks of a pearly
grey morning, centuries ago, and of a seafarer of
such peripatetic habits that he certainly deserves to
rank as holiday-maker. On that morning, so many
centuries ago, a strange craft worked her way into
that gap in the coast line — a craft of a kind that
no modern traveller would trust himself to for any-
thing but a river trip. It relied for propulsion chiefly
on a row of oars, how many the Holiday-maker cannot
say ; it also had a mainsail, which relieved the rowers
occasionally. Yet this craft had had the most extra-
ordinary adventures on the high seas. It had started
out from Ithaca, sailed round Greece, and found its
way among the islands to the coast of Asia Minor.
Here, in company with other similar craft, it was
beached, no doubt, and lay up till the crew, who were
also redoubtable warriors, had, after a long siege,
sacked and devastated Troy. The ruins of that city
have been unearthed, so part of the story must be
true, and why not therefore give at least a hearing
to other parts of the story, which have not yet been
disproved ? It was to the owner of this strange craft,
to Ulysses, that the capture of Troy was due. We
also know that this pronounced holiday-maker travelled
very far out of his way indeed, before he returned
to the bosom of his family, so why may he not have
visited Portugal ? It is just as likely as many of the
other extraordinary things that happened to him. A

46 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

visit to Portugal in those days was no common oc-
currence, it is true. There was no Booth line to make
everything easy and comfortable. Ulysses did not
show a beautiful three-cornered label, marked U, on
his hat-box, as proof that he really had been abroad.
He got a poet called Homer to record his travels,
which is really just as convincing, and more pictur-
esque.

Let us, then, correct a slight omission in the
Iliad, and send Ulysses to the mouth of the
Tagus, nor stop at that, but boldly let him lay the
foundations of Lisbon. Why not ? Ulysses was a
man of vast experience, and of a thoroughly practical
turn of mind ; he also had a strong sense for the
beautiful, of which many recorded instances give
evidence ; and all these qualities would force a man
to build a city exactly where Lisbon now stands.
First of all, Lisbon stands on seven hills — every
great city should — and a man like Ulysses would
hardly pass by a cluster of seven hills without
beo-inning to build on one of them. As a knowing
seafarer, he would bring the city wall down to the
river side, and build a suitable landing-stage there
where the river is broadest. How he, the man of
travel, must have enjoyed it !— the broad waterway by
which he entered after careful soundings on the bar, the
wooded heights closing in on either hand, the range of
high mountains to the north, arresting the clouds that

Ulysses 47

they might not disturb the serenity of the blue sky
reflected in blue water ; then, just where the seven
hills grow so opportunely, the river broadens to the
dimensions of a lake. No, it would certainly be
unfair to Ulysses, both in his capacity as contriver
and as holiday-maker, to rob him of this, his crowning
achievement, of founding Lisbon.

But like a well-conditioned holiday-maker, Ulysses
tore himself away from Lisbon and returned home,
where, by the way, he spoiled some other people's
holiday. With what regret Ulysses must have looked
back upon a scene so fair ! — the broad river vanishing
in the east, the banks narrowing, and widening again
as his ship began to dance on the incoming tide and his
crew strained at their oars. Then little by little the
light faded out of the landscape, till the last rays of
the sun flashed for a moment on the high peaks of the
Serra of Cintra ; then they too stood in purple gloom,
and Ulysses altered the course, and rounding the Cape
of Espichel, lost sight of his latest and most lasting
achievement.

The conditions under which Ulysses, the holiday-
maker of history and legend, entered the Tagus,
differed in many respects from those of his humble
and very recent follower. The climate was probably
much the same, mild and balmy, so that this Holiday-
maker crossed the bar in a costume as light as that
which Ulysses and his race were wont to wear, though

48 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

of more definite form, and less liable to derangement
by the sportive morning breeze. The main features
of the landscape have altered but a little. Surely
Cape Espichel looked dim and blue and distant, but
without its twinkling light. There was the same roar
of mighty breakers, hurled by the Atlantic swell
against the hollowed rocks of the Bocca do Inferno,
the same swirling of foam against the cliffs, the same
tumbling seas on the sandy beach, and over the bar
the same Serra, crowned with clouds rose-coloured by
the rising sun, looking down serenely over a lovely
landscape away into the eastern haze, full of promise
of things beautiful.

Here similarity ends. Ulysses did not feel con-
strained by evidences of civilisation around him to go
below and don suitable apparel. He probably had no
comfortable cabin to go to, no attentive steward to
minister to his wants, no change of garments to worry
about, and possibly no breakfast worth mentioning
to look forward to. Certainly holiday-making is
materially improved since the days of Ulysses. But
tremendous changes have taken place since then which
have affected even Portugal, that land of leisure.
Instead of bumping up against unsuspected rocks,
landing in the dark and suddenly, on some unknown
shore, to be discovered in the morning by inappre-
ciative natives, the ways over the waters are prepared
with great care for the holiday-maker. Lighthouses

The Torre de S. Vincento 49

guide his ship into safety; his path is made smooth
for him on landing ; in fact, it is not until after re-
flecting on the trials of former generations of holiday-
makers that the modern seeker after rest and pleasure
in foreign lands realises to the full his many advantages.
This was borne in upon the Holiday-maker as the
big ship swung round Cabo Raso, as modern villas,
springing up from out of groves of pines, old-fashioned
forts with quaint pepper-box turrets by the water-side,
met his glance. Cascaes, with its royal palace
enclosed by the walls of an ancient fort, waving
palms decking the terraces ; Mont' Estoril, that bright
and pleasant winter resort, with its golden sands and
castellated mansions ; Parede and Carcavellas, and then
another fort, Torre de S. Juliao, pass in succession,
sheltered by the Serra of Cintra. Opposite the Torre
de S. Juliao, the Torre do Bugio, the lighthouse,
marks the entrance to the Tagus curving slightly to
where a graceful tower stands out into the river.
In this tower we meet with the first striking
evidence of the history of Portugal. It is the Tower
of Belem, the Torre de S. Vincento, built on the spot
where Vasco de Gama landed on returnine from his
voyage of discovery. King Manuel I. caused it to
be built — Dom Manoel, so great a king that men
called him the Fortunate. Of this and other matters
the Holiday-maker has much to tell ; of the history
of that town, rising onj seven hills from the banks

\

50 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

of the river where warships and merchantmen lie at
anchor, where are everywhere signs of life and
enterprise ; of the people who live there, and go
about their business or pleasure. Much that is
beautiful, much that is interesting, is to be found
in Lisbon, the capital of Portugal.

u

CHAPTER III

THE modern holiday-maker travels in greater
comfort than those who went before. There
may yet be some of those still living who tell of much
discomfort on landing on a foreign shore. Passports
were required, and scrutinised by officials of whose
capability for understanding such weighty documents
some doubt was justified. This discomfort has been
abolished in Portugal, and in all civilised countries
except Russia, Turkey, Roumania, and Servia. Of the
civilisation of the last-named country the less said the
better — in fact, there is very little to say of it. The
Holiday-maker once arrived at Belgrade in the dead
of night. Unceremonious officials boarded the train,
collected passports, kept them for some twenty
minutes, and then returned them to the travellers in
bunches, leaving each to choose his own. Again,
another serious nuisance was caused by the fiscal
authorities, whose prying into portmanteaux the
traveller watched with some anxiety. This, too, is
no very grave matter, at least in Portugal, for officers

of the customs now begin to recognise how harmless

53

54 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

holiday-makers are, and the shipping agents also
assist in making this inconvenience less pronounced.

So the Holiday-maker landed in Lisbon, and be-
thought him of some place to lay his head. The
choice was difficult on account of its variety. There
was the Hotel Bragan^a ; the Avenida, a pleasant-
sounding name ; the Central, which sounds more
business-like ; the Durand, suggesting homeliness.
The Holiday-maker decided for the first of all these,
the Bragan9a, The name alone calls up memories of
the great race that ruled over a great country ; it has
such a romantic flavour ; in short, to live there would
seem most in keeping with the Holiday-maker's
intention of entering into the life and history of
Portugal.

The way leads along a level road for a while, a
road none too well kept, with waste space between it
and the railway line that leads to Cascaes. Beyond
that again are ungainly sheds that line the river-side,
where ships of all sorts are loading or discharging.
Yet a little farther on fishing-boats land the night's
catch, which is then carried in big baskets to the fish-
market across the road. This is a scene of intense
and noisy activity. Out of the hurly-burly emerge
the fish-wives, each carrying a basket of glittering
wares on her head. Each has her daily round, a
certain section of the town, which she perambulates,
calling attention to her goods in strident tones. There

The Lisbon Fish^girls 55

is only one fish-shop in Lisbon, so it is said ; the
Holiday-maker did not visit it, and therefore cannot
say how business goes there. But it is certain that the
fish-wives do a good trade, especially during Lent.
They seem a happy and contented tribe, these fish-
wives ; the name does not quite suit them, for they
are of all ages, mostly young girls, some children yet,
lithe and active, their gait instinct with that grace
which belongs to those who carry burdens on their
heads ; one meets it again in Eastern Europe, in
Egypt, and to perfection among the Hindu women
of India.

These fish-girls belong to a different race ; it is
said that their ancestors came from Phoenicia, and
settled in the country round about Ovar^nd Varina,
whence they come to the towns to earn their bread.
Their contentment expresses itself now and again in a
graceful contre-dance, to the rhythm of a somewhat
mournful chant, sung by the dancers, as they glide,
barefooted, through a maze of intricate steps. The
dance, executed in the middle of the street, with
the waving palms in a public garden hard by the fish-
market as a background, suggest chiton and himateon (
rather than the short but voluminous skirts, Grecian
knots laced with coloured ribbons rather than the
hard felt hats, worn by these dancing damsels. The
dancing has a strange fascination, which made the
Holiday-maker late for church one Sunday morning.

56 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

All this on the road to the Hdtel Braganga ; a
plunge into a narrow street, through which electric
trams run to the accompaniment of the angry clangour
of the drivers' bells. Many obstructions meet these
trams on their round of the city ; of these one is
peculiar to Lisbon only. A quaint conveyance,
resembling a box open at the sides, painted in
colours once garish, now tarnished and subdued, rolls
gaily, drawn by mules, along the tramway track.
The conveyance, furnished with seats, conveys the
poorer people at cheap rates, and is always crowded.
It is one of many that belong to an enterprising
gentleman, Eduardo Jorge, whose name is plainly
written on the board above the side of this conveyance.
The wheels of this contrivance are made to fit the
track, the right to use the track is that of piracy.
In fact, no such right exists, but as two rails happen
to be lying in the road, Eduardo Jorge sees fit to
use them. The insistent note of the electric-tram
bell at last conveys to the driver of the pirate
car a glimmering of the rights of others, and he
makes some show of inclination to oblige. But the
mules have got to be consulted, and one of them
may consider this an opportune moment for a rest —
well merited, no doubt. The mule rests peacefully
through a storm of vituperation ; then, having rested,
assists his colleague in hauling the pirate craft off
the track, to run it swaying, rumbling, into the gutter.

H6tel Bragan^a 57

Here the other mule may think fit to take a rest.
Such pleasing episodes as this may be taken as
evidence that the struggle for existence is not so
desperate here as it is elsewhere.

Out of the narrow, low-lying street, into broader
ones that lead upwards, a sharp turn, and we arrive
at the portals of the Hotel Braganga. A stately
building this, once the residence of Royal Bragan9as,
and no doubt with some share in the history of
Portugal. Portuguese art, too, is in evidence, for in
the hall stands a huge screen of black wood, upon
which is carved boldly, yet gracefully withal, an
intricate florid design. The atmosphere is pleasant,
yet strange at first. You are made welcome, and
your wants are ministered unto, all without undue
hurry ; good food there is and good wine, and a
glorious view out of window over the river to the
distant hills.

But a finer view offers from the upstair rooms,
facing south. At your feet is a sea of roofs, out of
which some emerge with more insistence than others.
There is the flat roof of the English college in the
Largo do Corpo Santo, where you may now and
again see young English priests, their black cassocks
relieved by a scarlet band, taking the air, and no
doubt discoursing on serious matters. Leading east-
ward towards Black Hcrse Square is the Rua do
Arsenal ; a shadow hangs over it, for there, at the
4

58 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

farther end, a king was foully murdered, and with
him fell his son — a king who generously trusted
his safety to his people, and who was done to death
by adherents of the principle he represented, men
who feared that strong measures would end the
corrupt practices they favoured. This outrage left
the reins of government in the hands of a boy all
untrained for his high office, and led to troubles of
which the end is not yet in sight, despite the well-
meant efforts of poets, lawyers, soldiers, and other
dilettant statesmen now in power.

Within the Arsenal are to be heard sounds of
activity, interrupted now and again by tumultuous
strikes, since Liberty came to Portugal. The nation's
warships are overhauled here ; others lie out in the
fairway, more or less fit for service — at any rate,
capable of revolutionary action. The vast expanse
of water, the largest, safest harbour in the world,
could well accommodate ten times the warships now
sufficient for the needs of the Portuguese Empire
overseas.

There are few sights so fair as that from an up-
stairs window in Hotel Braganga. Before the rising
sun lights up the hidden corners of the city, when
rumbling market-carts pass, undisturbed by electric
trams, through the stone-paved streets, the river lies
broad and silent, dimly reflecting hulls and mast-head
lights of the shipping in harbour. A golden glow in

The View from the H6tel Braganca 59

the east brings the outline of heights to southward
into strange relief. Then distant Palmella catches the
first rays of the sun ; they light upon the heights
of Almada, they relegate the mast-head lights to
fitting obscurity, and suddenly illumine the fair land-
scape. Quaint little towns over the water shine
white in the sunshine ; busy Barreiro, Alfeite in its
bower of dark pine trees, Cacilhas, and the castle
above it, all rejoice in the light of the morning.

But Nature may show herself in other mood from
time to time. While a tranquil sunset throws up
the graceful dome of Estrella Church with its atten-
dant pinnacles, while the shades have lowered on
the fair gardens of Estrella, when deep peace lies
over St. George's cemetery, where Fielding ^ rests
under tapering cypress trees, in an ordered tangle of
flowering shrubs, a fiercer note comes out of the
east. Storm-clouds are gathering over the valley
of the Tagus, Palmella hangs in an angry haze, and
swiftly the tempest tears over the waters where ships
strain at their cables. Then the graceful arum lilies
that grow in the shade under the trees of St. George's
cemetery bow their white chalices before the storm,
and periwinkles bordering the paths hide their heads
under dark heavy leaves, as the storm-wind strews
broadcast the crimson petals of the Judas-tree. Th^

' Fielding, the descendant of that Habsburg-Feldenheirn who, dis-
possessed by Rudolf von Habsburg, settled in England. From Feldenheim
the Fieldings derive their name.

6o A Winter Holiday in Portugal

storm-wind shrieks through the streets, drowning
the sounds of traffic, churns up the waters that rush
out to meet the ocean, with hardly time to reflect
fitfully the many harbour lights.

But as suddenly as it arose the storm subsides ;

Lisbon sleeps, and heeds not the still voices of the

night, heard only by those who listen intently. They

tell of former times, when Lisbon emerged from

the mists of legend to take part in history. No

definite origin exists even of the name of this city.

Some make Ulysipo, then Lisbon, out of Ulysses.

Others declare that the name derives from the

Phoenician " allis " and "ublo," which mean "a

pleasant bay." From these two terms came Allisublo,

Olisipo, Lissipone, Lisibona, then Lisboa. No trace

remains of the Phoenicians, who came on business

only and never settled here. Even the Romans,

who were nothing if not definite, say only what

they themselves accomplished here. They came in

the second century before the Christian era, built

first a stronghold, then a town, which grew and

became beautiful, with temples, baths, amphitheatres,

and eventually rose to municipal privileges, and was

called Felicita Julia in the days of Julius Csesar.

The Romans had their day, and, leaving their
impress on the country, their language, and many
ruined m.onuments, they made way for the barbarian
hordes. Then in the eighth century of our time Alanni

6i

The Story of Lisbon 63

came to Lisbon, and with them Suevi. But these
went under when in the same century the Arabs
came and conquered, and took possession of the land.
In the meantime, Christianity had come to the Goths
in the northern parts of the Peninsula, and inspired
them to carry the Cross over all the land. So for
centuries strife and warfare filled the pages of history,
and Lisbon became chief subject of contention.
The struggle raged with varying fortunes. From
time to time the Christians would succeed in wresting
Lisbon from the Pagans. So in 753 Fruela L,
King of Oviedo, held Lisbon for a while ; then
followed Dom Affbnso the Chaste, King of the
Asturias, in 800; Ordonho IIL, King of Leon, in
851 ; and Dom Affonso of Leon and Castile in 903.
These conquests and reconquests caused endless
suffering to the city, which was, in addition to all
its troubles, visited by earthquakes in 1009, 1017,
and 1 1 76.

It was not till shortly after this last visitation
that Affonso Henriques, first King of Portugal,
assisted by English and Flemish crusaders, captured
the castle, and added Lisbon to the kingdom of
Portugal. Dom Affonso Henriques came down from
the north with his warriors, native and alien, under
a banner, white with a blue cross, the colours which
have since so often led Portuguese armies to victory,
Portuguese ships to the conquest of distant countries.

64 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Lisbon then grew apace ; the Moors, who sub-
mitted to Christian rule, lived below the castle which
they had gallantly defended ; houses sprang up outside,
and busy life teemed in the narrow streets. The
importance of the town increased yet more when
Afifonso III. brought his court hither from Coimbra
towards the middle of the thirteenth century, and all
went well for a while, though earthquakes caused
consternation in 1344 and 1356. Trouble, luckily
short-lived, came when in 1373, during the reign of
Dom Fernando I., Henry of Castile destroyed the
town, a large part of which lay without the walls.
But peace was soon concluded with the King of
Spain, and Dom Fernando set about to enclose the
town with an enceinte of towers and strong walls.

The palmiest days of Lisbon were those which
followed the discovery of the sea-way to India; great
wealth poured into the city, and luxury increased with
fabulous wealth. But it was short-lived, the pros-
perity of Portugal began to decline in the reign of
Dom Joao III., and with the sad fate of Dom
Sebastiao went Lisbon's high estate. After years
of prosperity, years during which Portugal's word was
law to countries of far greater extent, to nations far
more numerous, a rash young King, Sebastiao, hurried
his country into ruin by a fantastic expedition, de-
stined to tear Morocco from the Moors. The King
fell in battle, with him the flower of his chivalry.

Lisbon, Alto de Santa Catherina 65

Of those who survived but few returned, the re-
mainder lingered on through years of slavery. The
people of Portugal refused to believe that their King
had perished ; they held that he still lived in hiding
on some unknown island out in the western sea. Are
those sounds, borne on the breeze that heralds the
rising sun, the sighs of those who, in those troubled
days, went up to St. Catherine's Height to gaze with
wistful eyes out to seaward? " Ver navios do Alto
de Santa Catherina" ("to see the ships return, from
St. Catherine's Height") is now a Portuguese proverb
suggesting a hopeless longing.

A shrill whistle breaks into our dreams, another
day has dawned on Lisbon — the loud-voiced siren of
the Arsenal proclaims the fact. A new day, balmy
and bright ; no trace of last night's tempest, except
that the streets have a more washed appearance than
usual. Holiday-makers should be abroad betimes in
the morning, not so much as a matter of principle,
but because it is a good and pleasant thing to do.
It is also necessary if you would see every phase
of the life of the people you visit. We shall have
some nights out, too, that the Holiday-maker promises
you — rare nights out, and as much fun as Lisbon
can offer.

In the meantime the early morning has much of
interest to show you. Pass out of the Rua do
Arsenal, going east, and you come to Black Horse

66 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Square, properly called the Praga do Commercio.
Why so called is hard to say ; the only evidence of
commercial enterprise is centred in several small
kiosks where you may buy cigars and cigarettes.
Nor do the gentlemen who hover about this open
space suggest any kind of business. The place
certainly deserves the name given to it by English-
men, Black Horse Square, for a big equestrian statue
stands in it. This statue, which is a very fine
specimen of eighteenth-century art, was erected in
1775 t)y a grateful town to the King, Dom ]os6 I.,
and his able Minister, the Marquis of Pombal. The
reason for gratitude was the help given by the
Monarch and his Minister to those who had suffered
in the awful earthquake which visited the city some
years before the monument was erected.

Enclosing the square to east and westward are
Government offices, ministries, and such-like haunts
of mystery. To southward a low parapet shuts off
the open space from the river, here at its broadest.
An opening in the parapet leads down by shallow
steps to the water's edge, where tugs and small boats
draw up to land passengers, mostly country folk,
from the opposite bank.

From the north side of the square broad streets
lead into the town, but with these the Holiday-maker
is not at present concerned. He dives into a street,
the Rua da Alfandega, leading east, and stops for

67

Lisbon, Casa dos Bicos 69

a moment before a handsome doorway, on the left-
hand side. This is the arched entrance, beautifully
carved in stone, leading into the church of " Con-
cei^ao Velha," rebuilt on the ruins of that of " Nossa
Senhora de Misericordia," founded by Dom Manoel I.,
whose reign evolved and brought to perfection the
design named after him, of which this doorway is a
fine specimen. Near by are narrow streets of mean
houses. Some of these date back to the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries ; they escaped the fate of
many others that went down in the great earthquake
or were consumed by fire. One or the other of these
old houses is adorned with stone carving, a three-
masted ship under full sail — often a work of art — and
this betokened in former days that the house was
the property of the city.

Among these old houses one stands out above
its fellows with a particular emphasis. Its front
offers no usual smooth surface — each stone composing
it has been fined down into a point which protrudes
in menacing manner ; and these serried ranks of points
have given the house its name of " Casa dos Bicos."
Legend could not pass by here without weaving
some romance round this quaint mansion — has, in fact,
been generous, and given choice of several different
tales. One says that this house was built by a very
rich man, who said that he meant to set a diamond
in the point of each stone. Such display of opulence

70 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

met with the displeasure of the King ; he would not
suffer the erection of any mansion richer than a
royal palace ; the building was therefore not allowed
to rise beyond one storey in height. Another tale
tells of a negro queen who lived here when Dom
Manoel the Fortunate was King. She brought many
diamonds, and had them concealed in the sharp
pointed stones. Detractors doubted the genuineness
of those diamonds, yet for a while the house was
called the Casa Riquissima. Yet another version has
it that the King did not interfere with the owner,
who set a false diamond into the point of every stone
about the ground floor. Whether royalty in the
person of a negro queen lived in this ancient edifice
or not, goodly company assembled here no doubt
when Dom Braz d'Albuquerque, natural son of the
great Affonso d'Albuquerque, Viceroy of India, lived
in this house among many other nobles who made
this their quarter after the Jews had been expelled
in 1497. Before that, this was the Jewish quarter
of Lisbon, and it is said that their synagogue stood
on the site now occupied by the Church of " Conceigao
Velha."

The sight of two ancient arches, remains of Lisbon's
old fortifications, leads to thoughts of more modern
methods of offence and defence, a study of which is
offered at the Artillery Museum. A rich and interest-
ing collection awaits holiday-makers here ; weapons,

Lisbon, the Cathedral 71

arms, of all nations and ages ; flags and banners, under
which men went to victory or defended their rights
and liberty ; relics of historic personages, records of
famous names, that add a touch of personal interest,
and spare spaces are filled up with clever paintings,
by Portuguese painters, recording historic events.

These records of historic events arouse a desire
to visit historic places, and of these one is within easy
reach. Up the hillside, through narrow streets, the
way leads past the old cathedral. Very old indeed, so
old that the date of its foundation is unknown. Some
trace it back to the days of Diocletian, which seems
improbable, as that Emperor persecuted Christians.
Others place its birth in the reign of Constantine the
Great, and yet others ascribe it to Leovegilde, King
of the Visigoths, over two centuries later. There
seems to be sufficient reason to suppose that this
church was repaired and added to by the Bishop of
Seville in the reign of Reccarede, son of Leovegilde.
The Arabs then converted it into a mosque, and
Affonso Henriques re-established the old worship when
he captured the city, and undertook repairs. These
repairs are still in progress, and show no signs of
freeing the stern Romanesque front from the unlovely
scaffolding that disfigures it.

The interior of the cathedral is interesting and
imposing. Here, in one of the chapels, St. Vincent
the Martyr lies buried, and in the chancel Dom

72 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

AfTonso IV. and Dona Brites, his wife. Behind the
cathedral are the cloisters, a secluded old-world spot
with broken Gothic arches showing through the
branches of flowering shrubs. Here, in the centre
of the cloisters, stands a cage containing two ravens.
These, too, contribute to the pious memory of the saint,
and for this reason. King Affonso, after driving the
Moors headlong into the sea, discovered the remains
of the saint in a forest near Cape St. Vincent. They
had been concealed by the Christians during the
Moorish occupation, and ravens kept watch over
them. The sacred relics were then conveyed with
all reverence in a ship to Lisbon, by the King's
command, but two ravens refused to be relieved from
their high office, perched on the mast, and so escorted
the saint on his last journey. Now two ravens, caged
indeed, are still in attendance, and two ravens with
a ship are embodied in the arms of Lisbon city.
These sacred birds have since that time become
responsible for many miracles, all of which are re-
corded in a series of pictures on the thirteenth-century
tiles, blue and white, which line the walls of the
cathedral. Of late years the wonder-working power
of the ravens has been less apparent ; but the old
cathedral, hidden by scaffolding, still enshrines the
saint ; prayers are breathed round his tomb, and on the
Church's high feast-days volumes of glorious sound
roll forth from the organ and flood the ancient

Lisbon, Cadeia do Limo«iro 73

building, float round the massive masonry, over the
throne from which Affonso, Portugal's first King,
administered justice, call forth the spirit of worship
of endless generations out of the stones, linger
lovingly in the chapels where rest the mighty dead —
and find answer in the croak of a raven.

Out into the daylight, away from the deserted
sanctuary, whither even divine music fails to draw
present-day mortals, into the street which winds up
to the castle. Just beyond the cathedral, to the right,
stands a building with barred windows, through which
come appeals for alms from prisoners, for this is a
prison, the Cadeia do Limoeiro, which was once the
Royal Palace of Moeda. Dom Fernando lived here ;
he died in 1383. Dom Joao I., Master of the Order
of Aviz, of whom more anon, here murdered Count
d'Andeiro, lover of Queen Leonora, wife of Fernando L
Dom Joao's children lived here also, and this was for
a while called the Palace of the Infants. Dom Manoel
installed the High Court of Justice here. Now
ignominy clothes the place, and hapless prisoners
stretch out begging hands through the iron gratings.

A last short climb through narrow, squalid alleys,
and a space opens out before us ; here, surrounded
by strong walls and stout towers, stands Castello
S. Jorge, called so in honour of England's patron
saint, who inspired English knights to fight for the
Cross against the Moors of Portugal. Little is left

74 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

of Roman work, though here and there a trace shows
through. The Moors, during four hundred years of
occupation, added considerably to the strength and
extent of this old stronghold ; the citadel is their work,
and so are barbican and cistern. It was on the north
side that the Crusaders gained access, through the
heroism of one'man. Martin Moniz,^ by some means
unknown, induced the Moors to open the gate ; he
thrust his body into the opening, and was crushed
to death when the defenders endeavoured to close
the gate. But the gate would not close, Afifonso's
army forced their way in over Martin's mangled body,
and the Castello S. Jorge has been Portuguese ever
since.

The old castle still serves military purposes ; troops
are quartered here, and active Cagadores go about
their business. They are well housed and well fed,
and, it appears, not overworked, though no doubt
they are trained to meet modern requirements.

Walk round the ancient ramparts, and a glorious
panorama lies at your feet. To northward you look
to the far-away hills ; below you lies the busy city,
with its two hundred churches, broad avenues, busy
thoroughfares, and narrow alleys. To eastward on
another height rise the twin towers of another ancient
shrine, the Church of S. Vincente de Fora, originally
raised by Dom Affonso Henriques after the taking

* The Portuguese Arnold von W^inkelried.

Lisbon, S. Vincente dc Fora 75

of Lisbon. Then in 1582 Philip IL of Spain, L of
Portugal, caused the present building to be con-
structed as see of the Cardinal-Patriarch of Lisbon.
In the adjoining palace, the patriarchal residence,
some glorious works of art have recently been dis-
covered— two paintings in tryptich form, the work
of Nunez Gon9alves, a Portuguese painter of pre-
Raphaelite days ; they represent scenes from the life
of St. Vincent, and are great in design and beautiful
in colour.

Below are cloisters, and here, in a large, gloomy
vault, rest the later monarchs and royal princes of
Portugal. Dom Joao V. is the first in order ; a
long reign his — from 1706 to 1750. Dom Pedro IL,
Emperor of Brazil, who died in 1891, and his wife
Dona Theresa, lie here. Dom Carlos and his son
Dom Luis Filippe rest here under wreaths of faded
flowers, while the last King of Portugal lives in
exile.

CHAPTER IV

FEW cities of Europe are so favourably situated
as Lisbon, both for business and pleasure. The
Tagus, opening out into a vast harbour immediately in
front of the town, invites business, the equitable climate
and pleasant surroundings conduce to enjoyment of life.
No wonder then that, so fortunately situated and
under such favourable conditions, Lisbon has devel-
oped into the capital of the country ; its population,
357,000, is more than double that of Oporto.

The ordinary holiday-maker does not trouble his
head about the details of commercial enterprise in the
countries he visits. As a rule business seems much
the same in any large town. At an early hour crowds
of workmen fill the streets, trams, etc., and melt away
into factories ; at a later hour the brain-workers hurry
to their different offices. Between twelve and two these
latter are to be seen again diving into restaurants, and
at about five in the afternoon both classes of workers
again fill the streets, dispersing by tram or train in
various directions.

Lisbon is no exception to this rule, the only

76

77

Lisbon, Business Aspect 79

difference being that there is not so much evidence
of hurry as the northerner is used to. The business
quarter lies all around Black Horse Square, which
is plentifully sprinkled throughout the day with
ddgag^ gentlemen who evidently have no business
and do not want any. This also may be seen in
most large towns, but not everywhere will you
find such a pleasant place to loaf in as this sun-
bathed square, with the beautiful view over the broad
harbour. Round three sides of the square are
Government offices, and in the arcades under the
offices, especially on the northern side, business is
done in a leisurely manner. Banks, agencies, shops,
line the streets that run from Black Horse Square to
the Rocio and those at right angles to them.
Business extends along the river-side and climbs up
at least one hill, that on which stands the Place de
Camoes, with the poet's statue looking down the
broad Chiado, as the Rua Garrett is called by all but
strangers to the place. Turning to the left, the Rua
do Carmo leads down to the Rocio, where again much
the same is to be seen as in Black Horse Square.
But Lisbon has its picturesque business specialities,
incorporated in what the intelligent traveller calls
"types." The fish-wife has already been described;
another interesting personage is the man who has
turkeys, live ones, to sell, and drives them from house
to house throuofh the streets — a rather anxious task.

8o A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Another sight pecuHar to the city is that of cows,
mostly black-and-white, also being taken from house
to house, and milked on the doorstep while a poor
little muzzled calf looks on unhappily. Goats, too,
perambulate the streets in the same line of business
— their progress is more eventful, but often wanting
in dignity. Besides this peripatetic dairy business
there are establishments called "vacharia," where more
black-and-white cows are stabled in scrupulous
cleanliness, ready to be milked at any time of day
or night.

Lisbon offers much the same forms of amusement
as the traveller can get elsewhere on the Continent ;
the only item which is not to be found anywhere else
than here and in neighbouring Spain is the bull-fight,
and that does not take place in winter. The inhabi-
tants of Lisbon take their pleasure in driving or
strolling round the Avenida da Liberdade, a very fine
open place, which is beautiful when, at the beginning
of April, the Judas-trees break into blossom. Caf^s
and restaurants are thronged by pleasure-seekers
between five and seven of an eveninpf. Another form
of amusement, patronised by men only, is to stand in
the doorway of one of the many shops in the Rua
Aurea or the Rocio, and passively obstruct the
passage of those who wish to enter for some legiti-
mate purpose.

There is no great choice of cafes. Martinho's,

Lisbon Restaurants 8i

close to the Central Station, and looking down the
Rocio, is about the best, and may rank as first-
class. But it is very often quite deserted, and this
reacts on would-be merry-makers. Even during
carnival this restaurant, so advantageously situated,
fails to draw anything like good custom, very pro-
bably because there are so few of the good-customer
class left. You may have dined as well as is possible in
Lisbon (and the chef of the Braganga Hotel will make
it possible if he meets with sufficient appreciation) ;
you may have visited the Theatre Dona Maria, which
blocks the north side of the Rocio, and with a
carefully chosen party watched the carnival frolics
from a box ; you may even have taken part in
the rioting, firing paper darts by means of blowpipes,
, squirting scent out of tubes, and then, feeling ready
for supper, have returned to Martinho's to find the
large dining-hall upstairs empty, but for a sleepy
waiter or two.

Yet another restaurant, the claims of which to be
of first-class rank may be admitted, is Tavares in the
Rua de San Roque. The chef knows his business,
and the management knows how to charge ; but the
chief attraction, for some, rests in the row of little
chambres sdpardes. It is only the intimate sound of
the French phrase that appeals to the merry-maker
who visits Tavares, for the little chambers are entirely
without that subtle atmosphere, expressed in a know-

82 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

ing touch here and there, which gives its meaning to
the phrase chambre s^parde.

There are caf^s and restaurants in the business
quarter of the town, some of them the favourite
luncheon resorts of business men. Of these the
most attractive-looking is the Lisbon, in the Rua
San Juliao ; nearly opposite is the Electrico, also
much frequented by Englishmen, and deservedly so ;
yet further on in the same street the Cafe Oriental,
which unostentatiously offers the best of cheer. Casual
visitors to Lisbon seldom discover these little places
of refreshment, where good food is to be had at very
reasonable rates. Of an evening these restaurants are
deserted, but life of a kind centres round others in
the neighbourhood of the Hotel Central, cafts where
the younger, giddier travellers see what they think
is " life," to the sound of a well-meaning if mis-
guided orchestra.

The cinematograph is as popular in Lisbon as
elsewhere ; the performances differ only in breadth
of treatment from those to be seen in London, and
attract full houses every evening. Other theatres are
not so well attended. The Opera has had to close
down altogether, owing to the absence of the Court
and of those who lived thereby. The "Colyseu"
gives opera occasionally — it is a large building, bare,
and none too clean, occasionally also used as a circus.
Here a Portuguese audience may be heard, not to

Lisbon Theatres 83

advantage, in untutored criticism, or in a still less
pleasant applause. These manifestations, breaking
out when in one of the older operas soprano and
tenor have struggled through intricate duet up to
their respective high notes, come almost as a relief;
they are singularly irritating when interrupting the
graceful flow of Puccini's artistic realism.

A part of the same building offers food for
reflection to the more serious-minded — the premises
of the Geographical Society. Here it is possible to
realise how great a part Portugal played in history.
Stone pillars, which served as landmarks for the sea-
farers down the coast of Africa, stand here, amidst
trophies of war and peace, gathered from many
lands. A large map shows the course pursued by
those bold navigators who built up Portugal's colonial
empire ; relics are here of —

Arms and the heroes signalised in fame,
Who from the western Lusitanian shore,
Beyond e'en Taprobana, smiling came,
O'er seas that ne'er had traversed been before ;
Harassed with war and dangers without name,
Beyond what seemed of human prowess bore,
Raised a new kingdom midst a distant clime,
Which afterwards they rendered so sublime.^

A glance at that big map shows that much of

Portugal's former empire yet remains. There are the

Cape Verde Islands, and Sao Thome, off the coast of

' Camoes.

84 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Africa, along which Bartholomeu Dias felt his way,
till he reached the Great Fish River, where the coast-
line bears from east to north-east. On the mainland
along the route lies the Portuguese colony of Guinea ;
then, beyond the point where Bartholomeu Dias went
about, is the territory of Mozambique. Here, on
March 2, 1498, Vasco da Gama's ships dropped
anchor, and laid the foundations of yet another
colony. Then, after some delay, Vasco da Gama
sailed on to eastward, reached Calicut, and so paved
the way for Portuguese expansion in India. Many
of Portugal's colonial possessions have passed into
other hands, yet, what with those already mentioned,
with Goa, Macao, Taypas, Timor, and Kambing,
over seventeen million people are subject to the
new Republic which rules over ancient Lusitania
with its five million souls.

From Lisbon, as capital of Portugal, the remaining
colonies are governed ; down by the Arsenal the
Ministry of Marine directs the war fleet which serves
Portuguese interests on those high-sea ways dis-
covered by Portuguese mariners. Here in Lisbon
is the brain that directs colonial operations and the
policing of countries over-seas far larger than old
Lusitania. Here are the headquarters of Portugal's
armed forces, and here troops of all sorts are
garrisoned. " Lanceiros," with fluttering red lance-
pennants, lie out near Belem, another regiment of

Lisbon, Military Matters 85

cavalry lie close by. Both men and horses seem
to be quite useful material, the latter of different
breeds — Portuguese horses with racy Arab heads,
high, thick crest, and round rump, some marked
with the brand of the royal stud at Alter. Spanish
horses there are, much like the native breed, but
coarser about the head ; Argentines that look better
than they are ; with here and there an Irishman,
often better than he looks.

The men are well housed, well fed, and appear
happy and content. Their dormitories are large and
airy, every man has ample room about his bed ;
above it on a shelf lie his accoutrements, his kit in
a black leather knapsack, and under it his box,
holding private property. The kitchens are scrupu-
lously clean, the food is of good quality and plentiful,
and, finally, amusement is provided in the form of
games, football, quoits, etc., under an officer's super-
vision.

A great improvement in military matters is
about to be introduced. Up till now it was usual
for conscripts who could afford it to purchase a
substitute for military service ; thus only the very
poor filled the ranks of the army. Now every one,
without distinction, will be obliged to serve his
country if called upon to do so, and this will have
far-reaching effects. It will raise the status of the
soldier to the honourable position it merits, and will

86 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

bring all classes together in a common bond of
interest. The greatest value of this innovation lies
in its educational possibilities. It should tend to
stifle the individual egotism so strongly evident in
the Portuguese of to-day — an egotism which, de-
generated into petty personal vanity, has prevented
many a man of capability from taking part in the
public life of his country. This exaggerated, un-
wholesome individualism has eaten into the heart of
the nation, almost destroying the sense of solidarity
which leads public-spirited men of other nations to
devote some of their time and energy, at least, to
the welfare of the community. If this decree anent
military service has not come too late, it will do
more than all the rhetoric of sages and poets,
whether they stand as such openly before their
fellows or go disguised as politicians ; it will do
more than all revolutionary education, if it can still
teach the rising generation that they belong to their
country rather than their country to them, that they
owe a duty, and should perform it, before claiming
the full privileges of citizenship.

Again, in Lisbon, as capital, centres that side
of life described as " the Press." " The Press " is
said to mirror the life of a nation, to express its
many, varying opinions, to educate, to lead, in fact,
to be all things to all men. Optimists among those
whose labours are devoted to this mighty engine,

_S $,„.-//.3*;^a;.

^^,.~i^

CASCAES BAY.

87

Lisbon, the Press 89

" the Press," will tell you that there are countries
where this ideal is realised. They may, according
to nationality, even name the happy country where
such a state prevails, and lead trusting travellers into
the dismal region of disappointment. There may
be even in Portugal some such local optimists who
find their " Press " performing all the miracles ex-
pected of it ; who may assert that their " Press" has
been impartial, fair, and inclined to lend an ear to every
shade of opinion, since the Republic introduced Liberty
into Portugal. Do not those very servants of the
goddess Liberty, Ministers of the new and free Re-
public, assist in the good work by influencing, each
man, one or the other daily paper .-* That all these
papers should happen to be of Republican spirit,
that there no longer exists a publication representing
the obsolete opinions that prevailed up to the 5th of
October, 19 10, are no doubt facts which prove the
fulfilment of " Press ideals." And as to the edu-
cational value of the " Press"! Does it not describe
in words, show in pictures, how bombs are manu-
factured, how even the unlettered may fashion for-
midable weapons to defend their newborn Liberty
against " Law and Order " ?

In spite of the " Equality" bred of Liberty, there are
yet in Portugal those, not leaders of political thought,
who stand above their fellows, and this by virtue of
their own merits, aided by gifts of the gods. For

90 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

here in Lisbon the artistic life of the nation is re-
viving. For all such matters as ancient art in
Portugal the traveller should turn to museums, such
as that of the Fine Arts at Janellas Verdes, where
there is much of artistic merit. There is sculpture,
there are marvellous pieces of furniture, there are
many pictures of very unequal value, there are
drawings of much merit by Sequeira, a great Portu-
guese artist of former days. But more interesting
is the art of the present. Under that genial monarch,
Dom Carlos, the art of painting took a new lease
of life in Portugal. Dom Carlos, himself a master,
encouraged others by his works ; Dona Amelia,
his wife, has executed delicate little drawings, notably
those illustrating a book describing the beauties of
the Palace of Cintra. Under such influence others
attained the recognition their skill and industry
merited : Carlo Reis, whose palette glows with the
colours with which the sun of Portugal decks the
landscape, whose canvas shows a homely scene of
Portuguese life or a stirring episode in his country's
history ; Columbano Bordallo Pinheiro and his clever
portraits, and others of the rising generation. Then
a very ancient art, brought by the Moors into Portu-
gal, lives again under the hands of Jorge Colago,
the art of making decorative tiles, **azuleja,"^ an art

' Derivation : Azulejo from Arab azzalujo, a word derived from
zallaja, which means "united, bound together and plain, even," not from
azul, meaning " blue," the prevalent colour, though old tiles and Jorge

Lisbon, Art, Painting, and Music 91

which has recorded history — as in the palace at Cintra.
There in the council-hall or hall of audience, where
Dom Sebastiao assembled his council to consult on
the subject of the expedition to Africa, a throne-
like chair of azuleja, and a bench of the same —
recall tales out of Holy Writ ; so also those in the
cloisters of San Vincente. In humbler form they
decorate Portuguese houses outside and in. In this
artist's studio you may see tiles set up into pictures,
showing vivid scenes of history or legend, knights and
paladins, and charging squadrons of Arab horsemen.

The musical life of the nation cannot be said to
centre on the capital, as music, national music, is
diffused all over the country, and Lisbon, during
the concert season, offers much the same fare as
other capitals. Modern Portuguese music is yet
in its infancy, and does not promise anything parti-
cularly interesting.

The songs that are sung by the people have a
peculiar charm of their own ; they are rather melan-
choly, and some would be monotonous but for their
subtle pathos. They are seldom to be found in
print, and the accompaniment is generally left to
the player's discretion. The words are frequently

Cola9o's work show many lovely colours. " O azulejo e uma expressao
da alma Portugueza," Conde de Sabugosa, in O Pa^o de Cintra.
Illustrated by Sua Magestade a Rainha A Senhora Dona Amelia. Azulejo
is seen to best advantage at Cintra Palace, from genuine Arab in the Sala
das Sereias and da Gal6, to the modern ones of the Sala dos Brases and
the bath.

92 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

impromptu, as are those of the second song given
on the opposite page. The first is also a love-song
of the light-hearted student order.

There is yet another feature of Portuguese life
also to be witnessed in Lisbon which it is difficult to
classify. It is either an art or an amusement, fre-
quently a combination of both, though the seriousness
of art preponderates in some instances — love-making.

Love-making, unlike other arts, is in Portugal
performed in public — it is this fact possibly which
makes some performers regard it as amusement. The
first steps are taken in very public places, during
that apparently aimless perambulation of the Rua
Aurea, the Rocio, the Avenida, of an afternoon. The
cavaliers whose self-imposed task appears to be that
of supporting the doorposts of tobacco-shops are
really engaged in pursuit of this art, or amusement if
you are pleased to term it so. They scan the damsels
that pass by with the critical eye of a cavalry colonel
inspecting remounts ; they take careful stock of all
the many beauties paraded for inspection. When
they find one who fulfils as many requirements as
one poor mortal maiden may, Eros is permitted to
light his torch, set fire to the gallant's ready affections,
and irradiate the road to matrimony. It is a long
and seemingly tedious road. The next step is an
impassioned letter from the swain to the damsel ; if
she be " willing," like Barkiss — and this is said to

Cautige.

Quan - do corro pel - a en cos - ta, A ca - sa da minha

-M-

I 1ST TIME. I I 2ND TIME, ||

9 twi

J3;

^^^

queri - da, Quan- da, Pe - la pressa com que'a su • bo,

tjl

I 1ST TIME. I I 2ND TIME.

£1

=5^1

5^Srt-

Pa - rece - me u - ma des ci

Quando corro pela encosta
A casa de minha querida
Pela pressa com que a subo
Parece-me uma descida.
Fado. ^~.

da I

Pe

dal

Mas depois, a retirada
Tenho tempo de sentir
Que a tel en cost'a descer
Custa mais do que a subir.

^^

Os

':e33

tcus o - Ihossoa tio ne - eros

— -v*-v*

±z

I I

Como a nou • te mais ser

±z

I 1ST TIME. I I 2ND TIME. |

SEE

^ps

liV

±3:

ra-da!

-da!

A pe-sar de tan-to escu-ro Sem

-4

i

d^

jv±

el - les nao ve - jo na • da I

"* j^

A - pe - sar de tan - to

i--i!i

i

:E=iiz-

1^

sem el - les nao ve - jo

nada !

PlUB

1^'

Os teus olhos sSo tao negros
Como a noute mais serrada!
Apesar de fft»W escuros
Sem dies nao vejo nada !

Translation.
Thine eyes are as black
As the darkest night
Yet despite their darkness
Without them I can see nothing.

93

94 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

be not unusual, meetings are arranged — not clan-
destine, mind you, no " meet me by moonlight alone " !
The donna has most likely Informed her cavalier,
in a letter borne by quite the right sort of duenna,
that she will be at her window at a certain time of
an evening. The ardent swain then appears under
the window, and breathes soft nothings up into the
heaven that acts as setting to the twin stars he
worships, has to breathe quite hard if the lady's
chamber be on the third floor. The breathing turns
to gurgling in rainy weather ; but is the dripping
swain discouraged ? — never ! The lady urges him to
withdraw, lest he catch his death of cold. " Then,"
quoth the lover, " there is nothing for me but the
Alto de San Joao " (the cemetery) : " will you accom-
pany me thither?" "Com muito gusto!" ("With
the greatest pleasure "), from the gracious lady.

You may call in the sister arts to attend your
wooing — a mandoline or a guitar may prove helpful
and add considerably to the entertainment of the
neighbours ; but then you must play really well, if
you do not wish to invite criticism. Mandoline and
guitar are suitable only for starlit nights ; they are
non-effective in the rain. It is also ill-advised to
warble, or attempt to, with a cold in your head —
the result is never satisfactory ; it again provokes
criticism, even ridicule, and young love, being a
tender plant, is like to die under such treatment.

Lisbon, Love-making: 95

When the swain has at last secured the parents'
invitation to enter the house, after much patient
waiting under the windows, a condition called
namoro links the lovers, and is expressed by their
sitting close together, like love-birds, while family
life goes on undisturbed around them. The lady does
not speak to any other man, not a near relation,
under these circumstances, and it is to be supposed
that the swain behaves in like manner to other
ladies.

The next move is " engagement," towards which
the swain contributes no direct effort. He does
not ask the parent's consent, but gets his mother to
consult with his prospective mother-in-law. If he
has no mother living, he entrusts this interesting
mission to a sister, or a cousin, or an aunt, which-
ever of these dear relations appears to be more
liberally endowed with those useful qualities, peculiar
to the sex, suitable to the occasion.

If the ladies fail to agree, nothing more is said,
and the same manoeuvres are executed in relation
to some other damsel, beginning in the street, ending
in the boudoir. If all is agreeably settled, marriage
follows in due course ; then subsequent happiness
depends not on the stars and the moonlight, nor on
auxiliary Muses, but on a capacity for devoted co-
operation, through severer trials than wet feet, until
the journey ends at the "Alto de San Joao."

CHAPTER V

WHEELED traffic offers more variety in Lisbon
than in many other capitals of Europe.
Modern traffic is very much in evidence ; motor-cars
of all makes hoot their way through crowds of
leisurely pedestrians ; electric trams, turning sharp
corners with grinding sound of wheels, urge stately
coaches to give them free passage, by means of an
emphatic bell. The coaches oblige, and with more
expedition than do the pirate tram-cars, already
described. These coaches are a link with the past.
They rumble rather heavily over the stone pave-
ment, drawn by horses decked out in a brave display
of plated harness. The coachman is generally a
typical Portuguese servant, with long side-whiskers,
and he urges his steeds to high stepping rather
than to speed. The horses are of the breed that
figures in paintings of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, having small heads and round rumps, wavy
flowing tails, arched crests and waving manes, and so
much action that pace has to suffer ; but dignity is

maintained. Very imposing are futieral processions,

96

97

Lisbon Traffic 99

In very special cases the hearse is drawn by black
high-stepping horses decked out in sable cloths, sable
plumes waving between their ears. People of less
importance take their last journey drawn by mules,
generally grey ones ; they are not high-steppers,
and long grey ears protruding loosely out of a black
head-covering detract from the solemnity of the
occasion.

Yet more primitive vehicles roll through the
streets of Lisbon, plain box-like carts on solid
wooden wheels, of a design unchanged since Roman
times. These carts have a talent, far more pro-
nounced than that of the pirate tram, for getting
in the way and impeding traffic ; the drivers are as
impervious to objurgation as the oxen that draw
these obstructive conveyances.

These varied forms of vehicles make up the
daily pageant of the streets. A yet more curious
pageant of the kind awaits us as we hurry westward
by electric tram along the Rua Vinte e Ouatro
de Julho, which, being interpreted, means the 24th of
July, a day on which something important happened
according to Portuguese opinion, but what it was
the Holiday-maker has never discovered — no one
he asked could tell him.

The road leads westward towards the sea, and
might well be more attractive, for much that could
make it so is here. To right hand are occasional

loo A Winter Holiday in Portugal

open spaces, the Praga de Marquez Sa de Bandeira,
Praga de D. Truiz, prettily laid out with grass-
bordered flower-beds under palm trees and flowering
shrubs ; but this is the only attempt to make the
place attractive. Once a scheme was approved
which would have made this unlovely road into a
beautiful " Avenida," a beginning even was made,
but the matter was dropped, and now waste spaces,
disorder, dirt, unlovely sheds and stores act as
broken foreground to the river and the hills beyond.
No doubt others have thought the same on driving
down the Rua Vinte e Quatro de Julho : goodly
company has passed here: King Alfonso XIII. of
Spain, and William II., German Emperor, both on
their way to the Royal Palace of Belem, where
till quite recently Royal visitors were lodged. The
latter of these guests must surely have regretted
such waste of space. What an opportunity offers
here for a Portuguese " Sieges- All^e," with rows
of statues of "everybody who was anybody!"
Royal visits are probably a thing of the past since
monarchy was swept out of Portugal ; so the Palace
of Belem, built in 1700, and bought by King
John V. from the Count of Aveiras, will have to
content itself with memories of other days, while
crumbling to decay under Republican auspices.

There are other memories of King John V.
in this neighbourhood. Close by the old palace

Royal Coaches loi

is a museum which contains a number of Royal
coaches, many of which date from the reign of
John v., 1706-50. There is one, for instance,
presented by the Sovereign Pontiff to that king ;
two others which were used for his nuptials
with Princess Maria Sophia, of Neuburg ; another
stately coach conveyed D. Rodrigo de Menezes, as
Ambassador to Rome, to visit Pope Clement XL, in
the reign of King John V. This sovereign had got
other coaches suitable for all occasions, and of these
two are singularly fine specimens of the taste of that
period. It was an acquired taste, borrowed from
France, whose King, " Le Roi Soleil," Louis XIV.,
was the example King John V. of Portugal had
ever before his eyes. The two coaches referred to
are called triumphal coaches.

The history of Portugal is unfortunately silent
on the subject of this monarch's triumphs. His
country was at peace with all the world during this
reign of forty-four years, and was rich and prosperous,
owing to the colonisation of Brazil. Perhaps it was
the triumph of the arts of peace which had to be
celebrated in processions of triumphal cars. Or were
personal conquests thus recorded — battles of beaux
yeux, so frequent in those pseudo-gallant days ? The
carved and gilded figures on the triumphal cars are
well suited to commemorate such victories.

The gradual development of the coach is rather

I02 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

well illustrated in this museum. A coach which
Dom Philip II. of Portugal, III. of Spain, left
behind him is the oldest in the collection. The
body of this vehicle is hung on huge leather straps
instead of springs. It is furnished sumptuously
within ; the seating is so arranged that there is
room for two passengers on either side of the coach,
as well as fore and after seats, so that all sat with
their feet inside the well. Later coaches provided
seats for servants on the footboard ; the leather straps
were supplemented by springs, which finally, by the
middle of the eighteenth century, were trusted with
the sole support of the body of the coach.

Harness of heavy leather, richly embossed, chased
with gold or silver, hangs in glass cases round the
walls of the museum. These exhibits are eloquent
of travel in former days, of days when possibly the
roads in Portugal were worse than they are to-day
in places, when stout horses, six or eight in pairs,
conveyed Royalty and dignitaries of Church or State
on pompous business or leisurely pleasure.

But a litde farther, beyond this collection of
coaches, sedan chairs, harness, and other relics of
an age when Portugal appeared prosperous, but was
really decadent, rises a memorial to the time of
Portugal's greatness, the church and monastery of
St. Mary of Belem (Bethlehem). It stands in its
wonderful grace and beauty on the site of a more

I03

The Church of S. Jeronymos at Bclem 105

ancient building, the monastery and chapel of Our
Lady of Restello, founded by Prince Henry the
Navigator, and given to the Order of Christ, of
which the Prince was Grand Master.

Those were great days in the history of Portugal,
the opening days of an epoch that brought about a
gradual but complete change in the history of the
world. Portugal had risen during three centuries of
strife out of obscurity to a place in the council of
nations. The work begun by Affonso I. in the
first half of the twelfth century, the task of ridding
Portugal of the Moors, carried on by successive
sovereigns, was accomplished with the conquest of
the Algarves when Affonso III. was King.

Portugal then began to develop its resources, in
peace, under King Diniz ^ the Farmer, who succeeded
Affonso IV., till Fernando, last of the Alphonsian
dynasty, died without male issue in 1383. His only
daughter, Beatrize, had married John I., King of
Castile, who now came to claim the throne of
Portugal. But the Portuguese Cortes, assembled at
Coimbra, took a step much in advance of the spirit
of the time (or perhaps reminiscent of early Teuton
influence), and, declaring the nation's right to choose
its ruler, proclaimed King Pedro's bastard son, Dom
Joao, Master of the Order of Avis, King of
Portugal.

1 Denis, Dionysius.

io6 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Dom Joao beat the Spanish invader in several
battles, and founded a new dynasty, which brought
Portugal to the zenith of its fame, but ended in
disaster. Dom Joao, King John I., married Philippa
of Lancaster, John of Gaunt's daughter, who pre-
sented him with four sons. Of these the most
striking personality — at least, looking down the long
vista of close on five centuries — was Henry the
Navigator ; the least known of them was Affbnso,
Duke of Brazan9a, the founder of the dynasty which
severed its connection with Portugal when King
Manuel II. fled before a revolted section of his
people.

The Moors had been driven from Portugal, yet
the old crusading spirit lived on, burned fiercely,
and urged the men of Portugal to carry the Cross
yet farther. The sea that dashed against the rock-
bound coast had no terrors for the generation which
was beginning to feel the spirit of the Renaissance.
The legends that hung round mysterious distant lands
were becoming discredited by the results of voyages
of discovery. The Canary Islands and Madeira
emerged from the mist of legend to figure definitely
on the careful charts, embellished still with drawings
of fearsome monsters of the deep. The coast of
Africa was becoming more familiar, and rumour
spoke of yet more distant countries to which the
adventurous sons of Portugal felt strongly drawn.

Prince Henry the Navigator 107

Foremost among these was Prince Henry the
Navigator, Master of the Order of Christ, Duke
of Vizeu, Lord of Covilha, and Governor of the
Algarve.

All these titles had Prince Henry earned by
energy and devotion to duty since he won his spurs
at the siege of Ceuta, the first stronghold wrested
from the Moors in Africa. This may have given
rise to thoughts of a Portuguese empire beyond
the seas, may have given the Prince the line he
followed without deviation. The powerful order of
which he was Grand Master found the means
necessary for further expeditions down the coast of
Africa, for planting colonies and establishing factories,
and from his chamber at Sagres, close by Cape St.
Vincent, where the Atlantic seems to stretch away
into eternity, Prince Henry ordered and guided these
many enterprises. His work was continued after
his death in 1460 by the Order of Christ. Stage
by stage Portuguese mariners moved farther south
along the coast of Africa. Eleven years after
Prince Henry's death, Portuguese ships crossed the
Equator; in 1482, when John H. reigned, Diego
Cao reached the mouth of the Congo, and again
in 1485 Cape Cross. Bartholomeu Dias carried
the red cross of the Order of Christ round the
Cape of Good Hope as far as the Great Fish River
in 1487, and prepared the way for one yet greater,

io8 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Vasco da Gama, the hero of Portugal's great epic,
the Lusiadas :

I sing a daring Lusitanian name,
O'er Neptune and o'er Mars to rule ordained ;
Cease all the ancient Muse to sing was wont,
For other valour wears a bolder front. ^

Prince Henry, the Order of Christ, and their
mariners had all contributed towards the great event
about to happen. King John was succeeded by —

Manoel,
In kingdom, and in lofty thoughts likewise,
Soon as he undertook the realm to guide,
He undertook to rule the ocean wide.^

And, according to Camoes, who writes with the
conviction of indisputable authority, King Manuel
dreamt a dream —

At the hour when daylight yields command,
And all the glittering stars shine forth above,
Inviting slumber as they circhng move.^

In this dream Dom Manoel felt himself lifted far
above the world to a place whence he could count
many worlds and

Nations of seeming strange and savage foes.^

He saw high mountains from which two deep rivers
rose and took their course through forests where were
many wild birds and beasts. Out of these rivers rose

^ Camoes.

Vasco da Gama 109

two old men, Indus and Ganges, who advanced
towards the King and promised :

If thy courage to the last be sound,
With victories unseen, and without fear,
Thou shalt lay bonds on all thou seest here.^

This happened when the King was holding his
Court at Estremoz. He sent for his counsellors
at once, as soon as he awoke, and discussed the
dream. Its meaning was clear — all India was
evidently waiting to be discovered and added to
the possessions of Manoel the Fortunate. The next
step was to find one suited to this great task.
Estevao da Gama had already been proposed, but
he was dead ; so Dom Manoel summoned the third
son, Vasco da Gama, to meet him in audience at
Montemor-o-Novo. Thus was Vasco da Gama en-
trusted with a task the fulfilment of which brought
him undying fame. He at once journeyed to Lisbon,
carrying with him a silken banner, the red cross of
the Order of Christ on a white field, a present from
his King. Four ships were lying ready in the
Tagus, the Sao Gabriel, which Vasco da Gama chose
as his flagship, her sister the Sao Raphael — small
ships of not 200 tons each, though they made
history — the Berrio, a caravel of 50 tons, and a
storeship.

On Friday, July 7, 1497, Vasco da Gama and

* Camoes.

no A Winter Holiday in Portugal

his captains kept vigil in the chapel of Our Lady
of Belem till morning, then started in solemn pro-
cession, escorted by priests and friars chanting litanies,
to the river's edge, which was then much nearer the
site of the church than it is to-day. The water's edge
was probably nearer the middle of the gardens, with
its masses of rose bushes and flowering shrubs, over
which wave the graceful palm trees that form such an
admirable setting to the church of S. Maria de
Belem.

By the river side the multitude knelt down to make
a general confession, which was followed by absolu-
tion for all those who might lose their lives in this
venture. Then Vasco and his men embarked and
sailed away, having —

In fine, prepared the soul for death.
Which ever stares the sailor in the eyes,
And for the Power Supreme Who balanceth
With reverend look alone the ethereal skies.

Parting without the usual farewell,

Which though of love a custom good and kind,

Wounds more both him who goes, and stays behind.'

Thus Vasco da Gama set out from Belem ; one
by one his white sails vanished from sight, and those
whose tearful eyes had watched him part, returned
home to their own affairs.

But elsewhere Vasco da Gama's intent was arousing

^ Camoes.

Vasco da Gama iii

interest. The gods on high Olympus were in council.
Jove spake :

Eternal dwellers of the starry pole,

And of this shining throne partakers all,

If the great valour and the mighty soul

Of Lusitania's people ye recall.

Ye clearly know that by the Fates' control,

By whose great, sure intent men rise and fall.

To them must now, forgotten, all give place,

The Assyrian, Persian, Greek, and Roman race.*

Jove evidently favoured the Portuguese, who had
with such slender power wrested the country of the
Tagus from the strong-armed Moor, a person quite
incapable of even elementary polytheism, and who
therefore sternly refused to recognise the gods of
ancient Lusitania. Therefore stout Vasco and his
men should meet with all encouragement, as now —

In that fragile barque,
Daring the doubtful sea, they take their course,
And then, their purpose and their enterprise.
To view the cradles whence the mornings rise.*

Perfect harmony seldom prevailed at the councils
of the gods of old. Jupiter's authority was sometimes
challenged, however freely he played his thunder-
bolts; Minerva generally bored him, and certainly
failed to sympathise with his views on several
interesting questions. Venus was often suspected of
being influenced by some intrigue, Mars invariably

* Camoes.

112 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

voted, unreasoning, with Venus, and Bacchus, owing
to his pleasant duties, was not always to be relied
upon for a coherent statement of opinion. So on this
occasion Bacchus expressed himself unfavourably
towards the latest Portuguese venture. He was
afraid that the Lusitanians would undermine his
authority in India; the Fates had said something to
that effect. At Nisa, in that far country, people still
sang his praises, but would they continue to do so
when they were brought face to face with the good
example of those sober mariners ? Certainly Bacchus
was unreasonable, ungrateful, for Portuguese ships
had already introduced the wines of Portugal to
England and other countries, among nations prepared
to worship Bacchus with a thirst which even the gods
might envy. Venus, Bacchus, and Mars frequently
combined for purposes of amusement and entertain-
ment ; on this occasion, however, too important to
admit of those courteous little concessions which were
half the charm of Olympian society, Venus decided
against Bacchus. She was well affected towards the
Lusitanian race (and they reciprocate it to this day),
for in their language she found but a slight corruption
of the Latin tongue, and in their persons all the
qualities of ancient Rome. Mars, ever faithful,
supported Venus, not only swayed by his devotion,
but moved by the merits of a valiant race. He
further suggested that Mercury should guide the

"3

Vasco da Gama 115

expedition, and show them the land where they
would learn the course for India, and where the crews
might recruit their force. This Jove approved of ;
Mercury received his orders, and the gods dispersed
along the Milky Way, each on his course.

Of the many adventures which befell Vasco da
Gama and his gallant men, books have been written,
full of learning and research, so learned, some of them,
that really important items have been omitted. Not
so in Camoes' great epic, and he lived so much
nearer the days of that eventful voyage. In fact,
Camoes undertook the voyage to India exactly
twenty-nine years after Vasco da Gama, as Viceroy,
had died at Cochin. It is also just possible that
Camoes may have met one or other survivor of the
first expedition, and have gained his information at
first hand. There is mention of the Dorcades, where
the three Gorgon sisters live ; they have one eye
between them and use it in turn. Ulysses is said to
have called on these ladies, and appears not to have
behaved as gallantly as was his wont.

Again, more recent chroniclers mention storms
and tempests, just as if they were usual phenomena,
whereas at least one of these had a very marked
personality. It was Typhoes, one of the giants,
whose favourite disguise was a tempest, a taste
acquired when he and others made war against
High Heaven. As far as he was concerned, this

ii6 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

war was a purely personal matter. He had fallen
in love with Venus, as many, wiser than he,
have done before and since. He also declined to
take " no " for a answer, and pursued the lady
(who endeavoured to evade him) as far as the banks
of the Euphrates. Here the Fishes came to the rescue :
they carried Venus and her son to the farther bank,
leaving the giant raging. He has raged frequently
ever since, finding the waters that surge round the
Cape of Good Hope more responsive to his call than
others, and, like many another disappointed lover, he
is ready to pour out his woes to any one who is
pleased to listen, not being scared away by his fury.
The Fishes were promoted for their meritorious
action ; they are now included in the signs of the
Zodiac, and wink slyly at each other when Typhoes
rages down below, and bellows out his tale of woe for
all the world to hear. The Fishes wink at each other,
for they " know a thing or two."

Many wonderful things those mariners saw —
St. Elmo's fire, waterspouts, new constellations in
the heavens — before the western Ghats loomed up
against the morning, and the rising sun lit up the
coast of India.

Then Vasco da Gama set about the business of
his King, and having accomplished all he could, set
sail from Calicut on Wednesday, August 29, 1498.
Troubles beset him frequently : at times he would lie

Vasco da Gama 117

becalmed for weeks ; again, fierce tempests took him
far off his course. A fearful plague, scurvy, thinned
the ranks of his crew, till there were not sufficient
hands to work his ships, so the Sao Raphael had to
be abandoned and was set on fire off the coast of
Mozambique. At last, after many trials, Vasco da
Gama returned to his country, made his triumphal
entry on September 18, 1499, and brought to his
royal master the assurance that Portugal was mistress
of the sea-route to India.

Then it was that Dom Manoel, whom men call
the Fortunate, abandoned the additions he was making
to Batalha Abbey, and set about the building of this
church and convent at Belem. Batalha had till now
been the epitome of the kingdom's history. The
Abbey at Belem now takes its place. The chapel
built by Prince Henry, who lies buried at Batalha,
had to make way for this imposing structure ; the
Knights of the Order of Christ were relegated by
Dom Manoel to the church and monastery of Con-
cei^ao Velha, while monks of S. Jeronymos took
possession of the new church, with its slender pillars,
all wonderfully carved, its cloisters richly decorated in
stone tracery resembling knotted ropes. So slender do
these columns appear compared with the rnassive walls
and roof, that when the scaffolding was removed, the
King doubted their strength and ordered the architect,
Juan de Castillo, to spend the night within the church.

ii8 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

The main entrance is by an archway richly adorned
with sculptured groups, the Nativity, the Annuncia-
tion, the Adoration of the Infant Christ, statues of
Dom Manoel, St. Jerome, Queen Maria, wife of Dom
Manoel, St. John the Baptist, and, on a column which
divides the archway, a marble statue of Prince Henry.
Splashes of colour, gold, crimson, blue, on walls and
on the stone-paved floor, relieve the gloom, through
which the delicate tracery of the supporting pillars
comes to its proper value by degrees. The pillars,
eight in number, lead up to the sculptured roof. The
chancel dates from a different period, built by Queen
Katherine, widow of John III,, and both lie buried
here. Near them lie Dom Manoel, and his wife
Maria, and close by is the high altar, the " Mystery
of Mysteries " contained in a shrine, elaborately
fashioned, wrought out of the first silver brought to
Portugal in the reign of Dom Joao III. This King's
children are buried here, also the Cardinal-King Dom
Henriques, and King Affonso VI.

Whereas S. Vincente had been made the Royal
Pantheon, S. Jeronymos became the National Pan-
theon. Here, under a graceful canopy of stone,
lie the remains of Alessandro Herculano, historian,
and one of the leaders of the Romantic movement in
the Literature of Portugal. Joao de Deus, the poet
of the eighteenth century, rests here, and so does
brilliant Almeida Garrett, poet, statesman, orator.

3^«;^^;^t^^ '-

A COURTYARD IX THE PALACE OF CINTRA.
119

Vasco da Gama 121

Luiz de Camoes, Portugal's greatest poet, lies in
this shadowy sanctuary ; he sang the deeds of bold
adventure, and now lies under the same roof with
Vasco da Gama,

Vasco da Gama, who braved a thousand dangers for
the honour and glory of his King and country, rests
here, in this glorious shrine, dedicated by the monarch,
whom men called Fortunate, in gratitude to "Him
Whose way is on the sea, and Whose path is on the
waters ; and Whose footsteps are not known."

CHAPTER VI

A SWIFT-RUNNING electric tram takes you
to Belem ; to go yet farther afield, out to
westward, where the Tagus flows into the sea,
necessitates a train journey, and the line runs along
the north bank from a station called Caes de Sodre,
in the lower town, outwards to Cascaes. Two rates
of speed are offered to the traveller — one by a very
slow train, which stops everywhere along the line,
the other by " rapido," so called rather for its good
intent than for its actual speed. This train does not
stop at every station, and is further distinguished by
dispensing no third-class accommodation. For all
that, it is pleasanter to take the less pretentious
train, and to be carried gently and with frequent
halts along one of the most beautiful stretches of
coast scenery in Europe.

The first part is the least attractive, owing to a
talent for introducing discord into landscape which
in the Lisbon municipal authorities almost amounts
to genius. There is the broad river, but its banks
are disfigured by ungainly sheds, tumble-down huts,

122

Lisbon to Cascaes 123

waste space, and dirt. In any other well-regulated
city there would be a more extensive service of
steamers, connecting places on both sides of the
river, linking up the charming little towns that grow
up on the rising ground to either hand. No other
municipality surely would have allowed that glorious
tower of Vasco da Gama at Belem to blacken under
the smoke of gasworks grouped hideously behind it !

Nature has been more than usually bountiful here,
and as we move westward she asserts herself more
and more. Pine groves grow up from among the
houses, palms wave gracefully in the gentle breeze
from the western sea, old forts with quaint little pepper-
box turrets stand out on the rocky headlands above
stretches of golden sand, among them the Torre de
San Juliao, which commanded the bar in the days
when to send round shot some five hundred yards
with anything like accuracy was accounted a great
achievement.

By degrees we approach the gem of this lovely
coast. Mount Estoril. Mount Estoril, the centre of
a group of pleasant sea-side resorts, rises out of a
forest of pines, palms, and evergreens of many
varieties on the orentle heiorhts that enclose an azure
bay. Here no rude north wind swoops down to
search out the weak spots in human constitutions.
Here is glowing glorious colour called forth by
sunshine ; masses of pink geranium run riot over

124 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

garden walls, roses blow here in sweet profusion, and
the mimosa adds its delicate perfume to the scent
of pines, borne on the breeze that plays among the
trees of Palmella Park. Here, too, are good hotels —
the Italic, for instance, with its tennis-courts and
other attractions that make for holiday. Then the
broad sands, a paradise for children, fringed here
and there with masses of rock, hiding little pools
of limpid water, where are strange animals and plants
which give an inkling of deep-sea mysteries. From
among the pine trees a holiday-maker may catch
glimpses of delightful views — to westward over the
red roofs of Cascaes with its old fort, round which
surges the heavy swell of the Atlantic Ocean, or
to southward over the sea towards Cape Espichel,
with its faint line of sand. Here are peace and
contentment.

A broad white road lined with palm trees leads
along the road to Cascaes, where, in the old fort
with its avenue of palm trees, a king's palace stands
neglected. Sheltered by the fort is a tiny harbour ;
quaint old-world fishing-boats, painted in bright
colours, some adorned with an eye on either bow,
come in here of a morning, and lie up on the golden
sand until the fishermen feel disposed to go out
again. A peaceful scene, and very beautiful, seen
from the esplanade of Cascaes fort — the avenue of
palms, their graceful leaves glinting in the sunlight

Cascacs 125

as the breath of the ocean stirs them to answer with
a gentle rustling sound, the lazy swirl of waters,
blue and green, against the massive masonry and
on the sunny beach ; smoke rising from a chimney
here and there, a slender column gently swayed by
the breeze ; houses, white, ochre, or pink, their red
roofs standing out against a dark background of
pines and eucalyptus, which add their whispering
voices to the soothing harmony, and, behind all,
the broken ridge of the mountains, the Serra of
Cintra. Peace seems to have settled here, peace
of ages, and so deep that it is difficult to imagine
any human influence strong enough to break it.
But Cascaes harbour has borne its share in warlike
undertakings; so in 1578 the little harbour was
thronged with warriors, German and English mer-
cenaries, the latter under the Earl of Leinster.
They embarked here to join the last disastrous
crusade which King Sebastian undertook against
the Moors of Morocco.

Peace there is at Cascaes to-day, but not con-
tentment, for there are many here loyal to Dom
Manoel II., mourning his absence.

The broad white road leads on due west, through
pine groves, past stately mansions, across a stream
that goes out between the rocks to meet the sea,
till a distant roaring sound, becoming more and
more insistent, drowns the voice of the breeze as

126 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

it whispers to the trees. A bold mass of rock has
withstood the onslaught of Atlantic breakers for
untold centuries ; but it has suffered, for the waves
have forced their way in and fashioned a huge cavity,
where the waters seethe and swirl and greedily lick
the smooth surface of the boulders. This is the
Bocco do Inferno (the Mouth of Hell), a mighty
contrast to the smooth, gleaming ocean without and
the sunshine and verdure on shore.

The undulating country inland shows plentiful
signs of cultivation — fields and groves enclosed by
stone walls, with here and there a white-washed,
red-roofed homestead. There are also deep rocky
ravines hiding floral treasures, orchids of many
kinds, one so fashioned that its chalice looks like
a bee, and is called " Ophrys " by the learned.
Below in the ravine is a tiny stream making its
way to the sea ; it tinkles over the rocks, and asks
its way of the iris that grows by the banks. Then
it rests for a while in some shaded hollow, and
here tall arum lilies gleam over their rich, shining
leaves ; but it wanders on, passes through the haunts
of men, and proves useful to those of cleanly habits.

Despite revolutions and rumours of further
troubles, the little streams find the haunts of men
sufficiently peaceful, very different from times not so
long ago. For up among the mountains, where
the little streams rise, among the spurs of the Serra

The Cork Convent 127

of Cintra, things have happened which incline
them to avoid the company of man. Hereabouts
is Ramalhao, where a wicked lady lived — a lady of
high degree, Dona Carlotta Joachina, Infanta of
Spain, and wife of King John VI. Her favourite
pastime was conspiracy, against her husband chiefly,
but she indulged in other forms of wickedness which
need not be mentioned, as they should certainly not
enter into a holiday scheme.

The little streams glide shyly out of hidden
nooks in the Serra of Cintra, from under tall pine
trees, from out of tangled undergrowth, from among
ferns and blue-eyed periwinkles. They are fed by
the clouds that crown the high peaks of the serra,
the Serra of Cintra, which arrests those clouds that
come up from the sea, and holds them, so that Mount
Estoril and its azure coast may bask in sunshine.

The stern Serra of Cintra is covered on the north
side with dense woods of pines and cork trees, chest-
nuts and oaks, the trees decked with grey lichen,
and everywhere a soft carpet of moss and profusion
of flowers and ferns. Hidden away among giant
trees are old houses, palaces, monasteries. Of these
latter the most interesting is one built by the ancient
Order of Franciscans. Don Alvaro de Castro, the
son of a Viceroy of India, founded it in the sixteenth
century. Englishmen generally call this the Cork
Convent ; giant cork trees whose bark has never

128 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

felt the knife guard the entrance, and the cells are lined
with cork wood, as protection against the damp —
such very narrow cells built into the crevices between
huge rocks. Little paths lead through the dense
vegetation, connecting ruined shrines, Stations of the
Cross ; and here and there an opening among the
branches shows a glorious view over the low-lying,
undulating country, far away out to sea. The eye
travels out towards Cape Roca and the imposing
mass of rocks called Pedra de Alvidrar. Then to
northward, farther along the coast-line, is a lovely
bay, Praia das MaQas, a semi-circle of golden sand,
with here and there piles of rock, and round it on
the sand-dunes a fringe of pine trees. Pine trees,
singly and in groups, line the road along which
runs the electric tram from Praia das Magas to
Cintra, the city of palaces, from which the mountain
range derives its name. Above the pine trees rise
gentle heights, dotted with white buildings standing
among vineyards and orange groves. Here is
Collares, famous for its wines, both red and white,
and beyond and above all the imposing masses of
the Serra — rocky ridges crowned with castles, capped
with clouds, rising out of forests of oak and pine,
cork trees and eucalyptus, and many other sylvan
varieties, and, clinging to the lower reaches, the
ancient city of Cintra.

The town groups itself picturesquely round a

CIXTRA, A I'ENA.

129

Cintra 131

royal palace, which stands up against the dark
background of deep green pines and blue-grey rock ;
its two tall chimneys, white and bottle-shaped, strike
a strange note, but not discordant, in this impressive
harmony. Here, too, the history of Cintra is centred.
Some say that Celts were the first to settle here,
and it is certainly just the kind of site those lovers
of Nature would have chosen. The Romans came
and found here a position suitable for a stronghold ;
they took possession, and called this place Mons
Lunae, obliterating the former Celtic name. Alanni,
Suevi, Goths followed, but the last named had to yield
to the Moors, under whom Cintra became a strong
outpost of Lisbon. During this period the life of
Cintra centred round the promontory on which stands
the royal palace, and Dom Afifonso Henriques found
a flourishing township here when, in 1147, he took
Cintra on his victorious way. Twice before Cintra
had been taken from the Moors, first by King
Affonso VI. of Castile in 1093, then by Count Henry
of Burgundy in 1109.

Nothing is known of the origin of whatever
buildings occupied the site of this palace in the days
of Moorish domination, but many traces remain of
that graceful fantasy which inspired Moorish work,
and which to this day influences the decorative art
of Portugal. No doubt the original building was the
palace of some Moorish Vali — it must have suffered

132 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

much in successive sieges and assaults ; of the building
which Dom Affbnso Henriques erected little, if any-
thing, remains. Traces and memories of Moorish
art remain, and learned archaeologists deem that the
mosaic floor of the chapel, once a mosque, dates
back to the days before the Cross replaced the
Crescent. A faint memory lingers yet in such names
as the " Terreiro de Mecca" and the " Jardim da
Lindaraya" (Lovely Queen), with its counterpart in
the " Mirador de Lindaraxa" at the Alhambra, re-
miniscent of the days of " Al Ca9ar"(the Palace) of
*' Chintra."

The castle of Dom Affonso Henriques was given
by him to Gualdim Paes, Grand Master of the Order
of Templars, and on the suppression of that military-
monastic body was handed over to their successors,
the Knights of the Order of Christ, by King Denis,
or Dom Diniz, as he was called in his own country.
The Knights conceded the castle to the Queen
Isabella, the saint, wife of King Denis, and it has
ever since been reserved for the Queen for life.

The royal palace of Cintra did not enter largely
into the history of Portugal until John I. had over-
come his enemies and had made good his claim to
the Crown by the victory of Aljubarrota in 1385.
Two years later he married Philippa of Lancaster,
daughter of John of Gaunt, and entered into an
alliance with England. Philippa longed for the cool

Cintra i33

air, the mists of her native land, so gallant King
John bethought him of Cintra and had the ancient
palace rebuilt. Though the Moors had been expelled
from Portugal, many lingered yet, and kings and
nobles were in the habit of employing skilled Moorish
craftsmen in the construction and decoration of castles
and palaces. This probably accounts for the Ara-
besque aspect of much in the palace of Cintra.
There are other decorations not of that order, and
of these one tells a pretty little story. King John I.,
as already stated, was a gallant gentleman, with a
keen eye for a pretty face or a neat ankle. There
was the black-eyed daughter of Barbadao de Veiros,
for instance. He was perhaps more lenient to him-
self than to others in such matters, for he objected
to the philandering of Count de Andeiro with Leonora
Telles, wife of his half-brother and predecessor,
Fernando I. ; in fact, he killed the Count. Then
there was that little affair with the lovely daughter
of Mendo Guarde. All this, of course, happened
before he married Philippa. It was certainly most
unfortunate that she should have entered the room
just as he was kissing a pretty little lady of the
Court. However, the King genially quoted the last
two words of a motto he and Philippa had devised,
" II me plet [plait] por bem," meaning much the
same as the motto of the Garter, and the Queen was
pleased to take the incident " por bem " in good

134 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

part. But courtly tongues began to wag, and a
pretty little scandal was ripening, so the King caused
the room where this touching incident occurred to
be painted all over with magpies, each bearing in
its beak a scroll with the device " Por bem ! "

Another quaint scene was enacted at Cintra in
the reign of King John I. He had sent a captain,
Affonso Furtado, and a priest, ostensibly to offer the
hand of his son Dom Pedro to the King of Sicily's
daughter. These two actually had orders to proceed
to Ceuta in order to spy out all they could about
the approach to the port, the anchorage, and such
important matter. Dom Pedro's hand was declined
by the King of Sicily's daughter. As to the other
part of their mission, the captain told of a prophecy
he had heard from an old Moor, to the effect that
the son of a king called John would be the first
to land in Africa, and that he would greatly disturb
the Moors. The King, being a practical soldier,
laughed at the captain's story, and was probably
not much impressed when, on turning to the prior
for information, the latter asked for two loads of
sand, a coil of string, and seven pints of fava
(beans). The prior locked himself into a room with
these stores for a while, then requested the King
to come and inspect the fruits of his labour — a raised
plan of the harbour, the sand so disposed as to
represent the mountains of Almina, the string to

Cintra i35

mark the outlines of the walls, the beans to show
the position of the houses. Forty-eight years later
Affbnso v., and Fernando his brother, Duke of
Vizeu, grandchildren of John I., inaugurated a cam-
paign against the Moors in Africa.

Cintra saw little of King Edward, Dom Duarte,
son of John I. ; his was a short and troubled reign,
as Guedelha, a Jew, his physician and astrologer, had
foretold. Trouble continued when Affonso V., his
son, succeeded at the age of five. Affonso was born
in the palace of Cintra, in the room between the
garden of Lindaraya and the Terreiro de Mecca,
called by the historian, Abbott de Castro, the room
of the sisters. The old walls and precincts of the
palace witnessed Affonso's unhappy childhood, ren-
dered so by the strife between his mother, Dona
Leonor, a Princess of Aragon, and his uncle, Pedro,
Duke of Coimbra. Dom Duarte had left the tutelage
of his infant son in Leonor's hands, but she was
very unpopular, and constant intrigues distressed the
land. When eventually open tumult broke out in
Lisbon, caused by the Queen's hostility to Dom
Pedro, the latter, acting on the advice of his elder
brother John, the Grand Master of the Order of
Santiago, assumed the Regency, leaving the Queen
to brood over her wrongs at Cintra. From here she
tried to bribe John by offering the young King's
hand to John's daughter ; she tried to persuade Dom

136 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Henrique, yet another of her brothers-in-law, that
Pedro sought to kill her ; she endeavoured to draw
her brother of Aragon and the Queen of Castile into
the quarrel — in fact, did all she could to make the
life of her son unhappy. As may be imagined,
matters were not improved when, at the age of
fifteen, Affonso married Isabel, daughter of his uncle,
Dom Pedro, Regent of the Realm. Poor little lady,
hers was a most unhappy life. She tried to bring
about a reconciliation between her young husband
and her father, but only succeeded in aggravating the
bitter feeling of the Court at Cintra against herself.
By means of infamous slanders, the adherents of
Queen Leonor, even the priests, intrigued against
the poor child, and attempted to separate the little
couple. But she was happy at least in the love of
her young husband, cultured and chivalrous, and he
mourned her deeply when she died, after eight years
of married life.

In the meantime Affonso, who had attained his
majority some years before, had developed a passion
for extending the dominions of Portugal over-seas by
conquests in Africa. In spite of the many difficulties
his dream was beginning to be realised. Portuguese
navigators, directed by Prince Henry, were beginning
to feel their way down the west coast of Africa, and
when Affonso was only twelve years of age a Bull of
Pope Nicolas V. had conceded the right over all

Cintra i37

discoveries along that coast to the King's sailor
uncle.

Affonso had yet another ambition, namely, to unite
the crowns of Portugal and Castile. To this end he
married Joanna of Castile, but she gave him no
children, so he tried to attain his end by other means
and got into a good deal of trouble in consequence.
Towards the end Affonso became very weary of the
crown and had a mind to enter the monastery of
Varatojo, leaving the affairs of State in the capable
hands of his and Isabel's son John. But he fell
sick of a fever before setting out for Varatojo, and
died in the room in which he was born, surrounded by
his family.

Dom Joao had hurried to the King's deathbed, and
had come just in time to delight his father's sight once
more ; he now took up the reins of government. He
was well prepared for his task, for he had acted as
Regent during a visit Dom Affonso had paid to the
King of France. His advent to power was hailed
with delight, for people called him the " Perfect
Prince."

Cintra appeared in gayest mood for the crowning
of the Perfect Prince. Glittering crowds of nobles
acclaimed the King, as the Herald, from a mound in
the palace yard, called out "Real! Real! Real!"
Everything promised well during the enthusiastically
attended ceremony. But it was not long before a

138 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

strong undercurrent, flowing in an opposite direction,
made itself felt. At the Cortes of Evora it was
decided to reclaim the gifts given to nobles for their
assistance at the battle of Alfarrobeira, during the civil
war between Affonso V. and his uncle Pedro. This
annoyed many of the nobles and they rose in revolt
against the King, headed by the Bishop of Evora, who,
by the way, was in love with a lady called Tinoco.
However, a judicious number of executions settled
matters, and the King could turn his attention to other
questions. These were mostly concerned with dis-
coveries; five years after Dom Joao H. came to
the throne, Bartholomeu Dias sailed away to double
the Cape of Good Hope, and prepared the way
for the discovery of India by Vasco da Gama.

Cintra saw a good deal of the royal family when
John n. was King, for he and his Queen loved its
many beauties, and the temperate climate suited his
delicate son Affonso. So that many acts of State
originated at Cintra, among them one which tends to
show the spirit of the age.

Ferdinand and Isabella reigned over Spain, united
into one kingdom by the union of their Most Catholic
Majesties. This proud title they earned as reward for
introducing, or sanctioning, an institution which strik-
ingly illustrated Christian charity and Christian zeal —
the Inquisition. It incidentally ruined Spain, to the
greater glory of God. This form of madness is

139

Cintra 1 4 1

generally started by some wholly irresponsible fanatic,
generally a priest or monk of sorts, and Spain at this
moment produced Fra Thomaz de Torquemada. The
first act of faith was the persecution of the Jews ; it
was an obvious duty — besides, there is sometimes
method even in religious madness, and attention was
first directed towards the Jews because they were able
to pay. And they offered to pay 30,000 ducats for
permission to live in Spain. It was a tempting offer.
Ferdinand and Isabel sat deliberating when Torque-
mada rushed in and made a hideous scene. No doubt
he referred to the pecuniary transactions between
Judas Iscariotand the High Priest ; he possibly quoted
stern sayings from the Book which those he persecuted
had inherited from their fathers — sayings breathing
wrath and vengeance : and yet one little verse from
the life story of the Gentle Saviour, in whose name
Torquemada raved, might have prevented foul injustice
and the decline of Spain.

As result of Torquemada's influence over their
Most Catholic Majesties, the Jews, numbering 56,000,
were expelled from Spain. Some went to Italy, where
20,000 died of the plague at Naples ; others migrated
to France, to England, to the Netherlands ; many
found their way to Turkey, where their descendants
flourish still. They still retain the language of the
country that ill-treated them, in obsolete form, and
they write it in the Hebrew script. A large number
8

142 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

of these homeless children of Israel wished to settle in
Portugal, and offered King John II. a large sum of
money for permission to do so. At a Council held in
the palace of Cintra, the King, for reasons of State,
which probably meant impecuniosity, decided to allow
the wanderers to enter Portugal, and to sojourn there
for eight months, before they set out for Africa.
For this consideration he charg-ed eig^ht cruzados a

o o

head.

A pleasanter reminiscence of the palace of Cintra
is that of a gracious action on the part of the " Perfect
Prince." French pirates had robbed several rich
Venetian galleys off the coast of Portugal, and the
captains of these vessels had landed at Cascaes. They
were entertained by a gentle lady. Dona Maria de
Menezes, Condessa de Monte Santo, and then sent to
Cintra to lay their plaint before the King. Dom Joao
was from home, but Queen Leonor treated the sea-
men well until the King's return from Alcoba^a ; then,
before the monarch would receive them, he insisted
on their being provided with the most sumptuous
apparel the royal palace could provide. This kindly
action established the best possible relations between
Portugal and the Republic of Venice.

Another scene which had its setting at Cintra
deserves to be recorded. King John, although by no
means an old man, began to feel the burden of his
cares severely ; most of all was he affected by the

Cintra i43

sudden death of his son and heir Affonso. He decided
on a pilgrimage to a small hermitage on the spot where
now the palace of the Pena stands. It was not a long
way, but there was no broad carriage road leading to
it as there is to-day. The cavalcade, consisting of
the King and Queen and their Court, set out on foot
along the rugged, stony path that led upwards to the
retreat of the pious hermit. Here the Court camped
out around the hermitage while the King and Queen
withdrew into seclusion for eleven days.

The death of Dom Affonso, heir-apparent to the
throne of Portugal, preceding the decease of his
father King John H., brought into the succession a
prince who had at the outset no likelihood of wearing
the crown. A son of Dom Duarte's second son
Fernando, Duke of Vizeu, murdered at Setubal,
Dom Manoel was perhaps the most striking per-
sonality among that long line of rulers which began
with King John I., the dynasty of the House of
Aviz. Men called Dom Manoel " O Fortunato,"
"the Fortunate," and certainly under his rule
Portugal rose to high estate among the nations of
the world. In person Dom Manoel was distinguished
for his extraordinary strength and agility, due to
hard training. His arms were so long that when
dropped by his side his extended fingers reached
below the knee.

He kept his features under strict control ; even

144 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

his green eyes were never allowed to show emotion,
though they once filled with tears, when news of
the death of Miguel, his son, was brought to C intra.
Dom Manoel revived the ambition of bringing the
kingdoms of Portugal and Spain under one sceptre,
but all his schemes failed. They were finally realised,
but for a time, through the extinction of his house,
due to constant intermarriage designed to bring about
his object.

Yet the courts and chambers of Cintra Palace
rang with the sounds of jousting and merrymaking,
music and dancing, and men spoke of Dom Manoel
o Fortunate. Great events crowded into the reign
of this monarch. Vasco da Gama opened out the
royal road to India, following in the wake of
Bartholomeu Dias, in 1498. King Manuel would
look out over the sea from the small hermitage of
the Pena, wondering how his Indian fleet was faring.
In memory of anxious moments spent upon that
rocky height, the King caused a chapel to be built
there, the chapel round which the present castle
arose at a much later date. In 1500 Pedro Alvares
Cabral rediscovered Brazil and claimed it for
Portugal. Two years later Vasco da Gama again
journeyed to India, where one conquest followed
another. Cochin was fortified and gallantly defended
by Duarte Pacheco. Dom Francisco de Almeida
was appointed first governor of Portuguese India,

vfr'

145

Cintra 147

and the east coast of Africa was occupied with
strongholds at Kilwa, Mombasa, and Sofala. Almeida
carried the blue-and-white flag of Portugal to the
northern shores of the Indian Ocean and defeated
an Egyptian fleet off Diu. Then Albuquerque
succeeded to Almeida, who was killed by Hottentots
on the south-east coast of Africa. Albuquerque added
Goa to the Portuguese dominions in India, sailed
farther eastward and captured Malacca and visited
the Moluccas, while Duarte Fernandes went as
Manuel's ambassador to Siam in 15 12, and four
years later Fernao Pires de Andrade visited China.
News of all these stirring events reached Cintra,
where, amidst the revelry of a gay Court, King
Manuel ordered affairs to serve his personal ambition.
On coming to the throne King Manuel married
Isabel of Aragon, widow of Dom Affonso, son of
John II. It is said that he fell in love with this
lady while escorting her from Spain, whence she
came to marry the then heir-apparent. To please
her he expelled the Jews and the remaining Moors.
When Isabel died, King Manuel married her sister
Maria, and she in turn was succeeded by Leonor,
niece of his former wives and sister of the Emperor
Charles V. So there were great rejoicings, and
constant festivities in the palace of Cintra, and the
ladies of the Court looked down from the window of
the Sala de Cysnes, the Hall of the Swans, upon

148 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

the courtyard thronged with arriving or departing
guests.

Portugal was great in those days when all Europe
was shaking off the trammels of the Middle Ages in
the Renaissance, and Dom Manoel was well suited to
the spirit of the age which inspired his contem-
poraries. There was Henry VI H. of England and
his rival the chivalrous Francis I. of France.
Charles V. succeeded his father the knightly Maxi-
milian, and, thanks to the discoveries of Columbus,
Magelhan, and Cortes, reigned over a vast empire.
Holbein was born shortly after Dom Manoel's
accession, and two years later, in 1499, Leonardo
da Vinci painted his " Last Supper." Michel-
angelo's titanic decorations of the Sistine Chapel
date from this period, Raphael painted the Stanze
in the Vatican, and Titian his " Sacred and Profane
Love," while Manuel gave rise to the gorgeous
style of architecture which is still named after him.
A change came over the Old World in those days,
the ferment of new life as the art of printing opened
the minds of men. Then Machiavelli composed his
famous definition of a Perfect Prince. Luther hurled
defiance at that proud Medici, Pope Leo X., and
the fiery zeal of Francis de Xavier carried the Cross
to distant eastern lands, the wonders of which were
told in Portugal and added to the decorative scheme
of Christian churches.

Cintra i49

And Dom Manoel would retire from time to time
to the height where the Pena stands, and would look
out to sea and mourn for the loss of Miguel his son,
whose birth caused the death of the woman he loved,
Isabella, Infanta of Aragon.

Dom Manoel o Fortunato died and was followed
by his and Maria's son John III. This King was
in many ways unlike his father : he was intellectually
limited and cared not for the graceful Arts ; he was
bodily defective owing to a fall in infancy, and had
no love for sport and manly exercises. Even his
love affairs were colourless. As heir-apparent he was
minded to marry Leonor of Austria, who, by the
way, was originally meant for him. But Dom
Manoel thought fit to marry her, and she became
his stepmother instead. Nevertheless on his father's
death King John III. proposed to carry out his
original intention ; but a third person intervened,
one Christovao Barroso, Portugal's ambassador at
the Court of Austria, who had fallen passionately in
love with Queen Leonor, and therefore poisoned
the mind of her brother. Emperor Charles V., against
King John of Portugal, his master. Christovao
Barroso ended on the galleys, Queen Leonor
married Francis I. of France, and Dom Joao married
Catherine, another sister of Charles V.

Dom Joao III. did little for the greatness of his
country and his foreign dominions ; the Indian

150 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

possessions, after Vasco da Gama died there as
Viceroy, became the happy hunting-ground of
adventurers who extracted what they could from
the country in order to squander it at home. The
Jesuits were introduced into Portugal, and seven
years later, in 1547, the Inquisition was definitely
established and even carried to India, where,
especially in Goa, the Hindus were persecuted
horribly. Although the power of Portugal had
spread as far as Japan during this reign, the decline
of the Portuguese Empire had already begun, and
continued under the rival regencies of Queen
Catherine and Cardinal Dom Henrique, Dom Joao's
youngest brother. Almost the only memory of that
King's reign is a little winding staircase which leads
up to the Sala dos Archeiros, in the palace of
Cintra.

King John HI. married his son John to Joanna,
daughter of Charles V., his niece by marriage, and
their son Sebastian succeeded, to be entrusted with
the government of the realm at the age of
fourteen.

Dom Sebastiao loved Cintra, and as he wandered
about under the forest trees would dream of con-
quest. With an unbalanced mind, and susceptible
to every influence, the young King was often led
to foolish actions. One day he rode over to
the Cork convent, where, at a stone table by a

Cintra 1 5 1

fountain, both of which still exist, he was wont to
take his lunch. Dom Sebastiao was a pious soul,
so he attended mass that day, as usual, and listened
intently to the sermon of some Capuchin monk,
who inveighed against the luxury which was rampant
in high places. The King returned to his council
chamber and forthwith drew up some startling
sumptuary laws. He imposed restrictions on the
diet of his subjects : " blanc-mange " was taboo, no
longer might a loyal Portuguese refresh his inner
man with the succulent " bolo " — a cross between a
dumpling and a bun — furthermore, no one might
spend more than his income. History does not
relate to what extent these ordinances were honoured,
but it may be supposed that even after such a
stringent edict you might find some weaker mortals
whose soul refused to be comforted without blanc-
mange, who could not resist the bolo, and who
would yet outrun the constable, as much from habit
as from a but shadowy idea of the limits of their
income or their liabilities. Such sinners have sur-
vived to this day in other countries, under other
laws.

The King was capable of kindly impulse too.
There returned from the wars one Bernardino
Ribeiro, who came to Cintra to make obeisance to
his King. Dom Fernando Alvares de Moronha
introduced this warrior, whose face was so dis-

152 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

figured by honourable scars that it provoked the
Court, and even the King, to smiles. Bernardino
was so upset by his reception that he could not
say his say, and Dom Fernando, equally annoyed,
upbraided the King severely, who, in a pet, with-
drew with all his Court. Dom Fernando followed,
no doubt to repeat the dose, then left for Lisbon,
taking Bernardino with him. But very shortly after
the King sent for the two again, thanked Dom
Fernando for the reproof, and apologised to
Bernardino.

King Sebastian dreamt of conquest here in the
forests that deck the steep sides of the Serra of
Cintra, and in the council chamber of the palace,
the chamber so richly decorated with coloured tiles,
he and his young companions discussed the proposed
crusade to Northern Africa. The partial success of
his first campaign urged him on to renewed efforts,
and he and the young men again met together
in council. Despite the warnings of a monk,
who had foretold disaster — Dom Joao had appeared
to him in a dream — Dom Sebastiao set out again,
never to return. He and his army were totally
destroyed by the Moors at El Kasr-el-Kebir. His
uncle. Cardinal Dom Henrique, was proclaimed
King, but lived only a few years; then Philip H.
of Spain, husband of Marie, daughter of Joao HI.,
became King of Portugal, as first of that name.

Cintra 153

Three Philips followed one upon the other, but
they visited the country rarely, and Cintra stood
deserted, while the forest trees communed in anxious
whispers, repeating tales of the troubles that had
come over fair Lusitania. From inland the breezes
brought rumours of plots and conspiracies, of drastic
punishment and treachery ; the clouds hurrying up
from the ocean filled the forest trees with sadness
as they told of the unhappy state of Portugal's
over-seas empire. The wind filled the sails of ships
that sped southward under the red cross of St. George ;
in 1 59 1, ten years after the death of Dom Henrique,
last of the house of Aviz, English ships first visited
India. Then four years later a Dutch squadron
set out for the same distant lands, and thus began
the disruption of the empire, planned by Prince
Henry the Navigator, strong and glorious when
Manuel the Fortunate was king.

Echoes of strife and tumult disturbed the stillness
of Cintra, till one day, December i, 1640, news
came of a revolt in Lisbon, which resulted in the
proclamation of Dom Joao, Duke of Braganza, as
King John IV. of Portugal. France and Holland
entered into alliance with Portugal ; and England,
recognising the independence of the country, followed
suit a year later.

Cintra saw little of King John IV. during his
troubled reign, but knew well his second son, who

154 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

became King as Affbnso VI. in 1656. A vicious
weakling this, injured in his youth when bull-
fighting at Azeitao. One small room in the palace of
Cintra tells his story. He married a pretty, lively
little lady, Maria de Nemours (Mademoiselle
d'Aumale), a granddaughter of Henri IV. But
though Affonso's reign was marked with some
successes against the Spaniards, who had regained
possession of the " Alemtejo," the country beyond
the Tagus, his swarthy brother Pedro deposed him,
and kept him prisoner on the island of Terceira
for six years. Then Dom Affonso was removed to
Cintra. He was brought into the palace yard at
midnight, and by the flare of torches shown the
small chamber prepared to receive him. He raised
his hands in horror as he entered the tiny room.
At first some slight interest remained to him ; a
former Minister, his only friend, Conde de Castello
Melhor, owned a small house on the hill-side, visible
from the prison chamber, and from here he and
another, one Antonio Conti, made signs to Dom
Affbnso. But the Duke of Cadaval, married to
Dom Pedro's illegitimate daughter Luiza, reported
this, and the Regent deprived his brother of this
only solace, and had him removed to another
chamber. Dom Affbnso had paced the floor of the
former chamber constantly, from the window to the
opposite wall, looking out for some friendly sign ;

155

Cintra 157

that weary pathway is still shown — there, where the
tiles upon the floor are worn away. Shortly after
his removal, Dom Affonso, who at the age of forty
had suffered imprisonment for sixteen years, suddenly
asked to be taken to mass, but death overtook him
on the way. His last words were, " I go, but the
Queen will soon follow me." The Queen had married
Dom Pedro. She soon followed her first husband,
and Pedro reigned in his stead. But Cintra was not
to Pedro's liking ; he never lived there. Nor did
King John V., his son ; he built the vast, flamboyant
monastery of Mafra, in the style so much in vogue
at the beginning of the eighteenth century.

Cintra suffered in the earthquake that destroyed
Lisbon, in the days when Jose I. was King and
the Marquis of Pombal his able Minister. A
wonderful chimney-piece was removed from that
nobleman's palace of Almeirim at Cintra ; it had
been presented by Leo X. to King Manuel L It
is said to be the work of Michelangelo, but
should be attributed to Franz Florio the Fleming.

Since the earlier years of the nineteenth century
the palace of Cintra has lost much in importance.
War devastated the country when French armies
marched through it, to be in turn driven out by
Portugal's English allies and the gallant troops which
Beresford raised in the country. An old palace
stands desolate some way from the town ; it is

158 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

called " Seti Aix," or " Seven Sighs." The Con-
vention of Cintra is said to have been signed here.
Yet farther on, amidst luxuriant vegetation, lies
Monserrate, the seat of Sir Frederick Cook, Viscount
Monserrate. Kinor Edward VII. visited here in

o

1902, and planted a tree to commemorate the event.

High up on the rocks stands yet another palace,
which has eclipsed the others, the palace of Pena.
Prince Ferdinand of Coburg built it after he had
married Maria da Gloria, who reigned interruptedly
from 1826 to 1853, It rises about the graceful
chapel which King Manuel I. caused to be built
to replace the humble hermitage of earlier days.
The new palace emulates the style of Manueline
architecture, but overdoes it : the decorations are
too profuse, and seem to lack spontaneity. A
winding roadway leads up to the castle, through a
winding tunnel underneath the building and into a
courtyard. The blue-and-white ensign of Portugal
no longer flies from the tower, the colours of
Henry of Burgundy, and those who came after him,
driving the Moors out of the land : the flag which
was respected on the high seas in the days of Dom
Manoel o Fortunato and his successors, and which led
Portuguese troops to victory, and gave them courage
in defence of their country. The glory has departed
from Cintra, and Pena stands empty, furnished as
it was when Dom Manoel II. left it; even the news-

Cintra i59

papers and journals, all dating from the time of the
revolution, lie where they have lain since the Royal
Standard was hauled down. The flag of the Portu-
guese Republic, red and green, which some think
beautiful, flies over the palace. The palace of
Cintra, too, is now the property of the Republic,
and is being converted into a museum. A pathetic
sense of intimate family life still lingers here, and
tourists may wander where the rulers of Portugal
have lived and made history : history that stands
recorded in the brilliant Sala dos Veados, emblazoned
with the escutcheons of famous families, of men
who helped to make Portugal great — Almadas and
Silvas, Pereiras, Vasconcellos, Almeidas and Britos,
and many others. The design dates from the reign
of Dom Manoel I., and he added the verse :

Pois com esforQos leaes
Servigos foram ganhados,
Com estes e outros taes
Devem de ser conservados.

('* As they have been won by loyal service, they and their
like deserve to be preserved.")

Yet another castle adorns the steep slope of the
Serra, at Cintra, the Moorish castle, a vast enclosure,
with walls and towers, and in sufficient repair to
enable visitors to walk along the ramparts up and
down, enjoying the lovely view. You may well
imagine keen-eyed Moors looking anxiously north-
ward, in those days when a Vali governed the

1 6b A Winter Holiday in Portugal

surrounding country for as far as he could control it.
News would come in of the approaching Christian
host, and the watchers on the ramparts would prepare
for battle. But the Moors always made certain of
some means of escape whenever it was possible, and
it is said that when the Christians entered this
castle after the assault they found not one defender
left ; all had fled by two secret subterranean pas-
sages.

Cintra, with its castles and palaces, its glorious
forests and profusion of flowers, has a peculiar fas-
cination, and every right-minded holiday-maker should
become acquainted with its charms. The railroad
that connects it with Lisbon is not without its places
of interest. It runs down from the Serra in wide
curves, out of the rocky mountain district into fertile,
undulating country, where "Quintas" and cottages
nestle in wooded valleys.

Another royal palace marks the road between
Cintra and Lisbon, that of Oueluz-Bellas. This
building, too, stands desolate in the midst of its pretty
park ; an air of sadness invests the broad staircase
that leads to the ornate front of the building. There
is a suggestion of Versailles about this palace, and
it is meant to bear some resemblance.

By the pale light of the moon you may people
this deserted place with shadowy forms — wicked
Dona Carlotta Joachina and her lovers plotting

Dom JoHo de Castro i6i

against her husband, King John VI., who sought
consolation in frequent pinches of snuff; or a
more pleasant memory of Dom Pedro IV. of Portugal,
and Emperor of Brazil, who introduced constitu-
tional government. But here again the glory has
departed.

Nearer towards Lisbon is one more place of
interest, Bemfica, and that because its church, in an
ancient Dominican convent, contains the remains of
one of Portugal's great men, Dom Joao de Castro,
fourth Viceroy of India, a man of unblemished
integrity, who pledged his beard in order to raise
the funds necessary to the maintenance of his country's
prestige in India.

The railway line wanders on, downhill, past
Campolide, where the aqueduct crosses a deep valley,
plunges into a tunnel, and emerges at the Central,
Rocio, Station, of Lisbon.

CHAPTER VII

SOCIEDADE Propaganda de Portugal" is the
title of a very excellent institution which
aims at instructing intelligent travellers, tourists,
intelligent or otherwise, in the way they should go,
so that they may thoroughly enjoy a holiday in
Portugal, this holiday-land. A capital little book,
neatly bound in blue, therefore not so obviously
touristic as the usual guide-book, called " Manuel
du Voyageur," by S. L. de Mendonza e Costa,
contains much information, concisely given. Its
genial style and attractive little photographs greatly
induce visitors to Portugal to go farther afield in
search of the many beauties and objects of interest
which this lovely country has to offer. No wonder,
then, that it sent the Holiday-maker out upon his
way — in fact, accompanied him.

Intense pleasure is to be got out of the mere
fact of starting on an excursion early in the morning,
after the streets have been thoroughly aired, and
when others, not so fortunate, are hurrying to work.

The " Manuel " had suggested a visit to Thomar,

162

Lisbon to Thomar 163

so the Holiday-maker was astir betimes in the morning,
and walked down to the Rocio Station. This station
has the advantage of holding a central position in
the town. It has its disadvantages too, for as soon
as a train leaves the platform it plunges into a long
tunnel, above which are the Botanical Gardens. There
is only one up and one down line through this
tunnel, so the traffic management must offer con-
siderable difficulties. The way these difficulties are
overcome reflects great credit on the Lisbon Station
authorities, for unpunctuality is of rare occurrence.
Another disadvantage of this peculiarly situated
central station is that trains travelling eastward have
to make a long detour of the town before they get
into the open, as it were. You stop at Campolide
again, then move round the town in a wide sweep,
past the Campo Pequeno with the bull-ring, the
Pra9a de Touros, past a huge, heavy building,
formerly the Convent of Chellas, now tenements for
innumerable poor families, until at Brago de Prata
you join the main line from the former central station
Caes de Soldados. As a rule, the fact of joining
the main line does not mean accelerated speed ; nor
should this matter much to the genuine holiday-
maker, for there is much that is beautiful to be seen,
and a slow train offers ample opportunity for doing
so. There is the verdant country about Olivaes
Sacavem with the quaint siphon that draws the water

164 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

for Lisbon's consumption, across the river Alviella,
then Alverca, near which was the camp of Alfarrobeira,
where Dom Pedro, Duke of Coimbra, died in the
midst of his troops and those of his nephew, Dom
Afifonso v., in 1449. Alhandra, too, has some claim
to passing notice ; it was rebuilt by Sucino, Bishop
of Lisbon, when Sancho L was King, at the end of
the twelfth century. Affonso de Albuquerque was
born at Paraizo, close by, and so was his son, Braz
de Albuquerque, whose Lisbon residence the Holiday-
maker has pointed out. The church that stands up
on the height was built by Cardinal Dom Henrique,
who succeeded his nephew, King Sebastian, as last
of the mighty dynasty of Aviz, founded by King
John L Close by is the fort of S. Vincente, part
of the Lisbon lines of defence. A little farther on
is Villa Franca de Xira, a very ancient borough,
which was once a possession of the Knights Templars,
of whom and their doings we shall hear more anon.
Then comes Azambuja, which was in existence
before the Portuguese monarchy ; King Denis the
Farmer planted a large pine forest here, and it
subsequently became a favourite haunt of brigands ;
every trace of it has vanished, making way for
cultivation and pretty little country houses, gleaming
among orange groves.

The silver Tagus accompanies the traveller, now
hiding behind clumps of trees, then showing all its

i6S

Lisbon to Thomar 167

broad expanse, white sails of fishing craft standing
out against the distant landscape, green and fertile,
with its background of blue, distant hills. The
Tagus comes close up to the old town of Santarem,
swirling round the foundations of Saint Irene's tomb,
Saint Irene the martyred virgin whose body was
thrown into the Nabao river and was carried away
into the Tagus. Santarem, too, has had a stirring
history: Afifonso VI. of Castile took it from the
Moors in 1093; ^he Moors regained possession and
held it till Dom Affonso Henrique made a final
conquest of the town by night attack in 1147. The
Romans, too, have left traces of their dominion in the
remains of an ancient stronghold. Here at Santarem,
in the church of the Monastery de Gra9a, Pedro
Alvares Cabral, the rediscoverer of Brazil, lies buried.
The line leaves the banks of the Tagus at
Entroncamente, the junction for Badajoz, and turns
northwards, winding round hills, rising gradually
through pine woods until Payalvo, the station for
Thomar. Here the Holiday-maker alighted and
discovered a " diligence " — a conveyance with which
he has since become well, and painfully, acquainted —
ready to take him to Thomar for a slight con-
sideration. The "diligence" is of lighter build
than its original in France ; it certainly rattles
a great deal more, and the roof cracks ominously
while heavy boxes are hurled on to it by those

1 68 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

cheeriest of mortals, the mule-driver and the con-
ductor. The sides of this vehicle are open, but may
be screened by canvas curtains.

There were two other passengers in the diligence,
not counting several friends and relations of driver
and guard, who all clustered outside, dangling their
legs. This provided one of the inside travellers with
much entertainment. He was a young farmer, who,
it appeared, had done a good deal in pigs, and
was therefore in high feather. His improvised
pastime was to cut and thrust at the dangling
extremities with his brass-shod quarter-staff, with-
drawing after every successful coup to explode with
laughter, showering winks and nods on his fellow
travellers inside. The Holiday-maker failed to
realise the humour of the performance, as the butt
end of the staff occasionally approached his eyes too
nearly, and looked severely upon the merry farmer.
The other traveller, a gentleman with a grimy face
and a broken hat-brim, being more removed from
the danger zone, smiled complacently. The road
led uphill most of the way, through white dust,
ankle-deep, which at first promised smooth travelling,
but now and again a violent bump gave notice of
some hidden, uncharted rock. The last mile or
so gave the mules, with their tinkling bells, a chance
of a downhill spurt, and the coach gaily rattled
into Thomar over the uneven cobble stones.

Thomar 169

Thomar stands on the site of an ancient Roman
settlement, Nabancia, so called after the little river
Nabao which flows through the town, the river
which carried the body of Saint Irene down to the
Tagus. The little town lies peacefully at the foot
of a steep hill, red roofs, and the tower of St. John
the Baptist's Church, with its traces of Manueline
architecture, standing out against a background of
rock and dark foliage.

The hill is crowned by a battered castle, broken
towers " s'accusent " against the sky ; the ruined
walls connect these, their rugged outline broken here
and there by tall, aspiring cypress trees. These
sombre sentinels, that draw life from the crumbling
ruins, recall those stormy days when Christian and
Pagan fought for the possession of this strong-
hold ; days when those walls and that stout keep,
begun on March ist, 11 60, by Gualdim Paes,
Master of the Order of Knights Templars, resisted
all assaults delivered by the Moors, even that most
bloody venture of Abou-Jousouf in 11 90, when he
led his hosts repeatedly up those steep slopes, to
see them surge back, baffled, defeated. They com-
pletely destroyed the city while the castle held out ;
after the Emperor of Morocco was forced to with-
draw, the Knights of the Temple devoted their
energies to rebuilding the town of Thomar.

A road leads up the hill-side to the castle,

lyo A Winter Holiday in Portugal

to the entrance gate by the bell tower, whence
warning of approaching danger rang out over the
valley. The approach is much like that to other
mediaeval castles similarly situated ; it is on entering
that a great surprise awaits the traveller. Around
him are hoary ruins, but to the right hand, rising
above the deep-green foliage of orange trees with
their golden burden, is a glorious vision, the church
of the Convent of Christ. Graceful pinnacles point
to the sky, stone-copings carved like fretwork
adorn the nave, windows decorated in all the pro-
fusion of the style called Manueline gleam in the
light of the setting sun. The entrance to the
church, approached by two flights of broad stone
steps, is a marvel of the skill inspired by Manoel
o Fortunato and his triumphant era — a memorial to
the days when Portugal was great among the great
Powers of the world, a monument to glory long
past, pathetic in the contrast of its rich symbolism
to its present utter desolation. Adjoining this in
striking contrast stands the chancel, once the chapel
of the Knights Templars, before the Order of Christ
was put into possession and built the church.
Built of large blocks of stone, with long, narrow
windows, the chancel tells the earliest history of this
astounding castle, speaks of those stern days which
gave birth to the different orders of knights
militant,

171

Orders of Knighthood 173

There were many such orders in those days
when Western chivalry marched to the East to
save the Holy Places from the Pagan. Of these
orders', the majority died out when their object was
no longer attainable ; few, very few survived, and in
such altered guise that they would now no longer
be recognised by their originators.

A quite excusable ambition moved knights of
these various orders to trace the date of their
institution back to very early days. Thus, for
instance, the Order of Constantine, or of St. George,
sometimes called Dores, or Angeliques, claims spiritual
descent from Constantine the Great. They held
title deeds, which in 1533 were deposited in the
archives of the Court of Rome — among these the
sanction of Pope Leo, dated 456 ; but they are of
more than dubious authenticity. Again, it was
recorded that in the twelfth century the Emperor of
the East, Isaac Angelus Comnenus, had been asked
to draw up fresh statutes for this order ; but it is
more probable that he founded it, and, as he was
one of the least vain of the Comneni, named it after
the great Constantine from whom his family tried
to claim descent. When the Crescent swept away
the Cross from the city of Constantine, the order
named after him must have gone under likewise,
but there were some Comneni left, and of one of
them, Andreas, it is recorded that he was in receipt

174 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

of a pension from the Pope. A few more Comneni
appeared from time to time, attempts were made to
revive the order, but all traces of it and its doings
have vanished long ago.

Another order, that of the Knights Hospitallers
of St. Lazarus of Jerusalem, claimed yet greater
antiquity. Its brethren declared that in the year
A.D. 72 several warlike Christians bound themselves
by vows to protect their co-religionists from persecu-
tion at the hands of Scribes and Pharisees, Sadducees
and Romans. The records of this order are still
less convincing, though at least one definite state-
ment sheds a little light on its past — in 1354 a Scot,
John Hallidei, is mentioned as Governor, spiritual
and temporal. The later purpose of this rather
legendary order is more in keeping with modern
notions. It survived the Crusades, and used its
funds and energies in combating a fell disease,
leprosy. Leprous brethren were accepted in order
to attend fellow sufferers, and on one occasion they
were obliged to look outside the order for a
Grand Master, to consult Pope Innocent IV.,
because the Infidels had slain all the leprous brethren
in the hospital at Jerusalem.

It is not surprising that another obscure order
of knights militant, bound by monastic vows, should
claim Charlemagne as its founder — the Order of
Frisians, or of the Crown. It is so long since

Orders of Knighthood 175

knights of that order looked resplendent in white
frocks embroidered with a crown and the device
•' Coronabitur legitime certans " that it matters little
whether their origin is due to Frisian support given
to the Franks against the Saxons, or to the taking
prisoner of King Didier, what time the Lombards
defeated Charlemagne in battle.

As every one knows, the body of St. Catherine
was borne by angels to Mount Sinai. This proved
a great attraction to the devout ; and in order to
protect these pilgrims from the Pagans, several
knights bound themselves under the rules of
St. Basil, thus founding yet another order. The
brethren received knighthood at the martyr's grave,
which they guarded day and night. Their badge
was a blood-stained sword on half a wheel.

Yet another order of knighthood was originated
indirectly by Richard I. of England. Needless to
say, he was an enthusiastic Crusader, so he sailed
for the Holy Land in 1191. The story goes that
he was cast by tempests on to the island of Cyprus,
then a possession of the Eastern Empire. The
Emperor Isaac Comnenus ill-treated Richard — a
rash proceeding. Richard grew angry (he often
did), took possession of Cyprus (which again sounds
likely), and bound Isaac Comnenus and his wife
with chains of gold. The latter part of the story
seems improbable, if only from the consideration

176 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

that Richard was generally very short of gold ; of
course he may have acquired the golden chains by
the primitive methods habitual to crusaders, pirates,
and other such liberal-minded gentry. King Richard
also determined to conquer Jerusalem and all the
Holy Land, and to keep it for his own. In order
that no one should dispute his right to the style
and title of King of Jerusalem, he bought that title
from Guy de Luzignan, who had married Sybil,
eldest daughter of Amory, then King of the Holy
City — which, by the way, he had lost to the Saracens
some three years previously. Richard paid for his
new honours with Cyprus ; and as Jerusalem probably
interested Guy no longer, he became King of Cyprus,
where he in his turn founded an order of knighthood,
the Order of Cyprus, an order of silence. But
Catherine Cornara, widow of Jacques de Luzignan,
a later King of Cyprus, ceded the island to the
Venetians, who in turn lost it to the Turks; and
as the new owners had little use for a Christian
order of knights militant, however silent, the silence
of Nirvana fell upon that institution.

Of all these military monastic orders the most
powerful was that of the Knights Templars. It
arose from small beginnings, when in 11 18 several
pious knights united to form a society which pur-
posed to defend pilgrims against the Infidels. There
were originally nine members of this society — Hugues

The Knights Templars i77

de Paganis, Godefroi de Saint-Amour, and seven
others whose names are forgotten. These knights
bound themselves to poverty, chastity, and obedience,
and made their vows in the presence of Guarimond,
Patriarch of Jerusalem, who looked on with approval
as these warriors devoted themselves to the service
of God.

Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, gave them a house
near the Temple of Solomon, and from this they
derived style and title. There they lived, on what
alms were given them, in great poverty, and became
known as the " Poor Knights of the Temple."
There was no increase in their numbers until after
the Council of Troies, 1128, over which the
Bishop of Albe presided, as representative of Pope
Honorius II. On this occasion Hugues de Paganis
and five of the brethren, who had attended the
council, requested St. Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux,
also present, to draw up rules to apply to all branches
of the extended brotherhood. This St. Bernard
did to everybody's satisfaction, so, according to an old
manuscript at Alcoba^a, every Knight Templar on
joining made the following vow : Obedience and
eternal fidelity to Jesus Christ our Lord and His Vicar
the Sovereign Pontiff and his successors. To defend,
by the word and the sword, with all his strength,
the Mysteries of the Faith, the Seven Sacraments,
the fourteen Articles of Faith, the Symbol of Faith

178 A WintcrJHoIiday in^Portugal

and that of St. Anasthasius, the books of both Old
and New Testament, with the commentaries of the
Holy Fathers which have been received by the
Church, the unity of one God, the personality of
the Persons of the Trinity, that Mary, daughter
of Joachim and Anna of the tribe of Juda and race
of David, was ever Virgin, before, during, and after
childbirth.

He further promised obedience to the Master
of the order, to cross the seas to fight when needful,
to give succour to all Christian kings and princes
against the Infidels, never to turn away from three
Infidel enemies or less, not to sell or consent to
the sale of the goods of the order, never to surrender
towns or possessions of the order to any enemy ;
to be faithful to the sovereign of his country, and
never to refuse assistance to brethren and sisters of
other orders :

Dieu me soit en aide et Ses Saints Evangiles i

The red cross which adorned their white robes
was given by Pope Eugene III. in 1146, by which
time the status of this order of knights had changed
considerably. It had increased in number. Guil-
laume de Tyr, writing about this time, mentions
three hundred knights in the House of the Temple
at Jerusalem alone, not counting the many serving
brethren. The vow of poverty had slipped into

The Knights Templars 179

oblivion, and the order had acquired enormous wealth
and great possessions, which made its power equal to
that of kings. Other vows were broken : the Knights
Templars refused to obey kings, and even defied
the Patriarch of Jerusalem. Instead of assisting
pilgrims they robbed them, and when Emperor
Frederick III. came to the Holy Land to fight the
Infidels, they sought to betray him. The Emperor
had communicated his intention to the Templars,
but these, jealous of his power, and forgetful of
their duty to God, suggested to the Sultan of
Babylon a plan by which he could surprise and
destroy the Kaiser and his hosts. The Infidel
declined to make use of the information, and told
Emperor Frederick of the Templars' treachery ; but
so powerful were they that terms had to be made
with them.

Richard I. of England enters into the history
of this order too. In contradiction to the records
of the Order of Cyprus, it is said that Richard sold
the island to the Order of Knights Templars. Matthew
of Westminster, writing of those days, tells how
Foulques, discussing the matter with the King,
referred to the pride that characterised his Court,
and suggested that he should marry it to the
Templars, as one generously disposes of a bad
daughter.

The Order of Knights Templars did more than

i8o A Winter Holiday in Portugal

any other body towards the final loss of Jerusalem
to the Infidels. The Knights then dispersed all over
Europe, and made themselves disliked wherever they
went by their disorderly habits, which must have been
very bad to have shocked a by no means squeamish
age. Kings and princes found this order an
odious nuisance, but it was so powerful that it
was difficult to effect anything against it. How-
ever, King Philip le Bel of France, where the
Templars were very powerful, had the happy idea
of arresting them all on the same day, October 13th,
1307. The Pope raised an objection to this drastic
proceeding, as the order, being a religious one, was
under his jurisdiction. But he did not insist ; he
even ordered inquiries to be instituted. These
revealed a serious state of affairs ; so kings and
princes, supported by the Church, decided to abolish
the order, and this eventually took place at the
Council of Vienna in 13 12. All the goods and
possessions of this order were transferred to the
Order of Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, except
in one or two countries, among them Portugal, whose
king, Denis, took over the great possessions formerly
held by the Knights Templars in his country.

Among these possessions was Thomar, as we
have seen. It was an important fortress and re-
quired a constant garrison, hitherto found by the
Order of Knights Templars, which was not in

LISBON SEEN FROM ALFEITE.

The Order of Christ 183

quite such a bad way here as in other countries.
King Denis quite realised how useful the Templars
had been, so he decided to found another military
order on the ruins of the former one. This he
succeeded in doing five years after the downfall
of the Templars, possibly admitting some of those
into the new order, which he called that of Jesus
Christ, in order that the Knights might do great
things against the enemies of the Faith, in that
Holy Name. King Denis sent to Rome to ask
the Pope for a Bull confirming this order, and
received it on March 14th, 13 19; thereupon the
Abbot of Alcoba9a heard the vows of the new
Knights, the rules of St. Benoit of Calatrava.

. At first the order lived according to strict
monastic rule, but this was relaxed in time, though
through sanction of constituted authority, not by
individual licence. Thus Pope Alexander VI.
absolved the order from strict observance of the
vow of poverty, on condition that one- third of its
acquired property should be devoted to the con-
struction of the monastery at Thomar. The knights
of the order did well in several campaigns against
the Moors ; they even captured territory in Africa,
which they submitted to King Edward of Portugal.
But Dom Duarte gave them the sovereignty over
the territory they had conquered, and Pope
Eugene IV. confirmed this concession, promising
10

184 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

them also one-tenth of all their subsequent con-
quests. This urged the knights on to further
endeavour. They gained wealth and great possessions ;
but instead of using these for their own aggrandise-
ment, they devoted them to the service of their
country. It soon became customary that a member
of the royal family should hold the office of Grand
Master of this order, since the brethren had been
granted leave to marry by the Pope. Thus Prince
Henry the Navigator, brother of Dom Duarte, the
King, became Grand Master, and under him began
that series of discoveries, aided by the Order of
Christ, which raised Portugal to foremost rank
among the great nations of Europe. Dom Affonso V.,
who followed Dom Duarte on the throne of Portugal,
further extended the power of this order by giving
them jurisdiction over all their over-seas possessions ;
this decision Pope Calixtus III. confirmed, adding
the right to appoint priests to benefices, to administer
censures, interdicts — in fact, investing the order with
full episcopal power.

Dom Manoel, also Grand Master of this order,
gave further concessions when he came to the throne.
During the reign of this monarch the badge of the
Order of Christ, a red cross enclosing a white one,
was known on all the newly discovered ocean high-
ways. It was blazoned on the sails that bore Vasco
da Gama and his fellows round the Cape of Good

The Order of Christ 185

Hope ; it gleamed in the heat of equatorial seas, and
caused wonderment to the priests of an ancient
creed in India — wonderment, for the symbol of peace
and self-sacrifice led its worshippers to acts of
violence and unspeakable cruelty in search of con-
quest and personal aggrandisement.

Gradually the cross of the Order of Christ faded
from the high seas, corruption corroded the Portu-
guese Empire, attacked its vitals in the mother
country, and Portugal sank into insignificance. The
balance of power began to change when the wealth
and importance of Portugal had blinded those in
authority to current events. Another red cross, that
of St. George of England, became known and
respected beyond the limits of the Island Kingdom.
A significant fact heralded the advent of a new,
yet remaining sea-power — in 1580 Cardinal Dom
Henrique died, last of the dynasty of Aviz, and
Portugal was incorporated in the kingdom of Spain ;
in that year Sir Francis Drake sailed round the
world. Camoes died in the same year, Camoes who
sang the glory of Portugal in his immortal epic the
" Lusiades."

The stately pile of buildings that crowns the
height at Thomar became the retreat of pious
monks, for in 1523 the Order of Christ was con-
verted from a military into a monastic institution.
Their memory lingers yet under the vaulted stone

1 86 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

ceiling of the refectory, in the little stone-flagged
cells that line the long wide corridors with their
timber waggon-roof. The last rays of the setting
sun enter between the bars of the small window of
a tiny cell ; you sit down on the stone seat by the
window and look out over luxuriant verdure, to the
broad plain below, but you feel the presence of some
gentle brother whose favourite place this was on
those balmy winter evenings long ago. King
John III., who made monks of the knights of this
order, also built this portion of the monastery ; a
majestic cloister is named after him. There are
other cloisters, seven in all, each with its own
peculiar beauty and pathetic interest ; of these the
most beautiful is that of St. Barbe, the oldest and
sternest that used for ablution by the knights.

The battlements and towers are falling into decay
— they have served their purpose ; but the monastic
buildings, the church, and the cloisters are kept in
good repair. They stand silent and deserted in
their exuberant beauty, and around them the evening
breeze rustles the heavy leaves of orange trees and
draws fragrance from the golden fruit, while tall
cypresses stand dark against the evening sky and
mourn over this monument to the glory of Portugal,
short lived, long since departed.

CHAPTER VIII

T 117" HO has not heard of castles in Spain?
Castles raised by our fantasy out of fond
hopes and vain desires. Castles such as Dora's
pencil called forth — castles with many mansions,
endless towers and turrets, with spires soaring into
regions yet more unknowable than those on which
the structure's gossamer foundations rest.

How many have heard of castles in Portugal ?
No foolish fancy called them into being, they are
not the plaything of an idle moment. The castles
of Portugal are very real, have served a real purpose,
and, though much battered and neglected, they still
raise their ruined ramparts out of the living rock of
which the foundations seem a part.

Take the map of Portugal ; you will find castles
everywhere, and they seem to have formed a chain
of strongholds from north to south. This was the
case when Christian and Pagan fought for supremacy.
The Moorish invasion came from the south ; where
the invaders found a former stronghold they im-
proved it with their marvellous ingenuity. They

187

1 88 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

built others, cunningly, wherever they thought one
necessary, and so arose those castles, one by one.
Far to southward Silves, once the seat of the
Kaliph of Algarve, S. Thiago do Cacem, Alcacer do
Sal, Montemor o Novo, Palmella, Fort St. George
at Lisbon, Cintra, Obidos, Almourol, and many
others. Each Moorish castle was held by a garrison,
was the seat of some lieutenant of the Moorish
Emperor, and from these centres revenue was
collected which was conveyed to Africa under the
escort of large armed parties. Each castle could
communicate with its neighbours, and a flaring beacon
by night gave warning of an approaching enemy.
The foe came from the east, from Spain, at first,
then from the north, after Dom Henrique, Count
of Burgundy, had prepared the way, followed by his
son, towards the foundation of the kingdom, now
the Republic, of Portugal. The Christian hosts came
from the north, under the blue cross on a white
field, started from Guimaraes, the cradle of the first
dynasty, and what they gained they held by strong
castles. The old walls of Oporto were strengthened,
Villa da Feira, near Ovar, was taken from the Moors
and fortified by Dom Henrique. The Moors lost
Coimbra to Dom Fernando, King of Castile, and for
many years this was the most southern outpost of
the new Kingdom of Portugal.

The power of Portugal moved irresistibly south-

Castles in Portugal 189

ward, taking in Leiria, Thomar, Obidos, then the
Tagus, and yet farther south ; strong castles marked
its progress and held the territory gained, until their
work was finished. Now they stand neglected, these
ruined castles, these monuments of Portugal's stirring
history, and few of those who live under the shadow
of these hoary walls can tell you what their purpose
was, nor why they are no longer needed.

The Holiday-maker feels strongly drawn towards
all ruined remains of former strength and greatness,
so set about to visit as many of these castles of
Portugal as a short winter holiday would permit
him to see. As before mentioned, he is singularly
fortunate in his friends, and thus was enabled to
carry out his project in great comfort. Starting
again from the Rocio station, the line runs due
north, sending a branch from Agualva to Cintra,
whose castles and high-placed palace look down upon
the pleasant undulating country through which the
train moves at no excessive speed. In wide curves
the line rises up towards a broad, dark mass of
heights, separated by deep, winding ravines ; here
and there a mass of broken masonry peers above the
sombre olive trees ; again, a straight line, softened
by waving grass, connecting the broken crest of a
hill, speaks of more modern methods of defence. A
wayside station, which we stop at, gives a clue to
the meaning of those lines ; here is Torres Vedras,

190 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

This is an ancient borough, and has seen warriors
of many nations pass. The Romans built a strong-
hold here, and called it Turras Viteres. Dom
Affonso Henrique took it from the Moors in 1149.
Then for a while was peace, and vines grew on the
hill-sides as they grow to-day. Then the valleys rang
with the rattle of musketry when, in 1807, General
Chariot came this way, and again, three years later,
when Wellington barred Massena's progress. During
the civil wars, under Dona Marie II., the troops of
Marshal Saldanha here met those of Count Bomfin
in battle, and routed them.

The line wanders on, curling round gentler slopes
than those of the lines of Torres Vedras which loom
impressively to southward, past little villages with
picturesque names — Ramalhal, after crossing the little
stream Sizandro, Bombarral, crossing the Real. The
heights to southward, offering a mighty panorama,
become blue and distant ; their spurs run down gently
into the plains. "Quintas" (country houses) stand here
and there on rising ground, whitewashed cottages
nestle in the hollows in the midst of grey olive groves.
Slow, plodding oxen draw a plough which has not
altered in design since fair Lusitania was a Roman
province ; the red earth turned up stands in vivid
contrast to the shiny green of young Indian corn
growing apace in this rich soil. The gentle heights,
outrunners of the southern mountains, begin to show

:.r ?

THE LAKE OF BACALHOA.

^■'/•^; ^»^..,„.^

»/v; jti^

COIMBRA, RUINS OF SAXTA CLARA.
IQI

Obidos 193

the delicate green of the vine, but to the right of
the line a hog-backed ridge stands out into the
plain ; its rocky slopes encourage no growth but
scrub and grass, and on its sides and crest stand
battered walls and broken towers ; within this enceinte
is an ancient town, Obidos.

The Holiday-maker, with his usual good fortune,
found a cordial welcome at one of those delightful
Portuguese quintas. The road led from the station
under the walls of Obidos, the ruined towers of
which seemed bent on arresting the clouds that hurry
up from the sea. The banks by the roadside are
covered with aloes, which not only make an excellent
fence, but have other uses — for instance, the coarse,
strong fibre of the leaves can be plaited into ropes,
and these are largely used to bind oxen to the yoke.
A sharp turn to the right, away from the good main
road brought the Holiday-maker into a rather bad
side track, shaded by eucalyptus, which led to that
long, yellow-painted quinta, standing out over the
red roofs of cottages and outbuildings, against a
background of dark-green foliage — a singularly happy
colour-scheme. Here at this quinta the Holiday-
maker passed happy days in the pleasant company
of his host, who, by-the-by, speaks English as well
as any Englishman. The quinta itself offers much
of interest in its large, cool rooms with parquet
floors. Stored away in mighty old cupboards, carved

194 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

in heavy wood, are court costumes, uniforms worn
by gallant gentlemen, mine host's ancestors, dainty
dresses which rustled on the broad staircase, along
those wide corridors, so many years ago. Their
gossamer fabric still falls in graceful folds, and you
fancy you see dainty sandalled feet peeping out from
under them, whilst from the old spinet in the corner
of the drawing-room comes a tinkling echo of some
stately measure. Then there are rich embroidered
cloths that served as coverlets ; one of them has
seen the slumbers of a king who visited here. The
library, too, has many attractions, among these
Beresford's daily orders to the Portuguese army he
had organised.

The Holiday-maker could step out of his sitting-
room on to a broad terrace, where a lovely view
awaited him. He could look over the large garden,
where roses grow in the winter, and bamboo bushes
stand on shady lawns, to copses of pine and eucalyptus,
and over the roofs of cottages and out-houses to the
purple distance behind which lies the sea. Outhouses,
long, low-built sheds, stand under the pine trees ; they
hold great treasures, wine, golden or ruby, won
from the fruit of those vineyards that are decking
hill-sides and plain with tender green.

'• Why are these delicious wines so little known
outside Portugal?" The genial host shrugs his
shoulders. " They are known outside, but not under

Obidos 195

their proper name. Some go to Germany, and from
there go out again called after picturesque places on
the Rhine ; France imports a great quantity, which
then becomes claret, Bordeaux, Burgundy. There
will be a great demand for white wine this year, as
so much champagne has been sacrificed to a recent
outburst of popular fury." Had this happened in
Portugal, what expressions of righteous indignation
would have filled the columns of the daily papers !
But it happened in France, to the accompaniment
of charging cuirassiers.

The winter nights are cool in Portugal, so the
roaring log fire in the stone hearth was very welcome.
Moreover, it helped to draw much information from
Padre Antonio, whom the Holiday-maker is proud to
call friend. Padre Antonio hails from the north, and
brought with him the indomitable energy, the mental
and bodily alertness which is the heritage of the sons
of the mountains. He is a priest, as Padre betokens,
strict with himself, lenient to others. A true Portu-
guese, gentle and courteous, moreover a good sports-
man— one of the finest shots in the country. Padre
Antonio was kind to the Holiday-maker, as he is to
all fellow mortals (is there any one who would say
aught but good of him ?). Together they stood by
the windmill where the broad road leads up to
Obidos, the windmill near which Portugal's English
allies fired the first shot of the campaign against

196 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Junot, little more than a fortnight after landing.
They climbed the heights of Roli9a, and from the
simple grave where Lake lies buried — the gallant
colonel of the 29th, first to reach the summit, first
to fall there — retold the story of the battle. Surely
it was a mighty feat to storrti those enormous heights !
Then they wandered among the heather, up hill and
down dale, and Padre Antonio talked of autumn
days, when the birds come over like rockets, and
the report of a gun rolls echoing through the valleys.
How they must have rung on that 1 7th of August,
1808, as shot and shell tore down from the heights
into those steady, advancing columns of British and'
Portuguese infantry ! One yet more furious burst as
glittering bayonets appeared over the ridge, then
wild cheers of charging infantry, and after that a
lull, while the smoke of black powder faded slowly
away. A few more shots sent after the retreating
enemy, then the pursuit, which ended in the victory
at Vimeiro and led to the Convention of Cintra.

Clouds come up out of the west and hurry inland,
casting fleeting shadows over the landscape. They
lose themselves among the rocks and in the gorges
of that blue, shadowy ridge to south-west ; they
give rise to little springs which trickle down among
the ferns, they encourage moss and lichen to cover
crumbling ruins formerly a convent dedicated to
Nossa Senhora das Neves, " Our Lady of the

197

Obidos 199

Snows." From out of the clouds the ruined convent
looked down upon the doings of men, upon the
fierce struggle that began at Roli9a over a hundred
years ago — the struggle in which the sons of Portugal,
aided by their allies of old, rid their country of the
invader, and disproved Bandarra's prophecy :

Ergue-se a aguia imperial

Faz o ninho em Portugal.

(" The Imperial Eagle rises — makes its nest in Portugal.")
There are other quintas round about the one in
which the Holiday-maker spent those pleasant days,
and they look out in various colours — ochre, pink,
or white — from among fruit-laden orange trees.
Hidden away in a grove of olive and pine trees
stands an old monastery. It is deserted but for a
caretaker, yet in excellent repair. The part towards
the garden, however, is decaying through neglect ; the
columns that flanked the way to the fountains, the
arches of the courtyard, have fallen, yet there is a
lingering memory of the former owners in this peace-
haunted spot ; you almost see the pale face of a
brother looking out of some barred window, mildly
wondering at the curious footsteps that disturb the
stillness of this ancient sanctuary. In the chapel a
surprise awaits you ; a large painting representing
St. Michael hangs over the high altar. It is wonder-
fully like the picture in the Louvre, so like, so vigorously

200 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

executed, that it is impossible to believe it to be a
copy. Yet no one knows the history of this work,
and more's the pity !

Just outside Obidos, at the parting of the ways,
which lead, one up the hill to the town, the other
at its foot to the station, stands Padre Antonio's
church, dedicated to Nosso Senhore da Pedra,
" Our Lord of the Stone." This church is of singular
appearance ; it is built in no known style, and
there is no other church in the world the least bit
like it. One of its peculiarities is that the windows
are placed one immediately below the other, the
lower ones with the point downwards, so that, as
Padre Antonio jestingly remarks, if you were to
turn this church upside down it would still appear
right side up. The church of Nosso Senhore da
Pedra luckily has such a strong character, like the
good priest who officiates within, that it can afford
to be original. It contains matter of interest, too ;
the painting over the high altar is well worth seeing,
if only on account of the beautiful rendering of Mary
Magdalene. Then again, in the sacristy. Padre
Antonio will show you rich raiment, but his pride
and joy are centred in a set of chairs. They are
what are called Guadamiciles — carved wooden frames
upholstered in Cordova leather stained pale blue,
and stamped with intricate golden designs.

Padre Antonio then led the Holiday-maker up

Obidos 20 1

to the old town of Obidos, entering by a narrow
gateway. Tliey went up to the high place from
which the ruins of the ancient keep look grimly
over the fair landscape. The square tower of the
keep was built by one Antonio Muniz, of whom the
following story is told. Antonio Muniz was the son
of wealthy parents, whose wish it was that he should
become a priest. But just at the time when this
wish should have been fulfilled, war broke out over
the succession to the throne of Portugal, so Antonio
Muniz joined the army of the Master of Aviz,
afterwards John I., and went out to fight the
Spaniards. Before leaving for the wars, Antonio
vowed to build a chapel to his patron saint if the
arms of Portugal were crowned with victory.
Aljubarrota was the answer to his vow, and so
arose the tiny chapel dedicated to St. Anthony
which gleams white against the blue sky of Portugal
on a hill to westward, just across the railway line.
Here Antonio Muniz lies buried.

From the inner courtyard of the keep a broken
staircase leads to what once were spacious apart-
ments. A window opening more ornate than others
in this stern building suggests that it may look
back upon prettier scenes than those which war-
fare has to offer. Here wedding bells rang out
a merry peal when Dom Afifonso V., of whose
unhappy childhood Cintra Palace was witness, married

202 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

his first cousin Isabel, daughter of Pedro, Duke of
Coimbra, Regent of the Realm.

Padre Antonio and the Holiday-maker lingered
on the ramparts of this ruined keep, commanding
a glorious view of the surrounding country, as
beautiful as any to be seen in fair Lusitania ; at
their feet old Obidos with its narrow streets, encircled
by stout walls now tottering to ruin. Here and
there the narrow streets end in an open space,
designed as market-place, and giving a better view
of some old church. There is the church of Santa
Maria, containing paintings by Josepha d' Obidos,
one of Portugal's most famous painters. These
pictures are peculiarly interesting. Some date from
the time before Josepha went to Rome to study,
others after that period ; and though the latter show
greater skill and richer colour, something of the
pleasing originality of her earlier work is wanting.
Josepha was buried here in 1684, and by her side
another who was well known and well beloved in
his time, Francisco Raphael de Silveira Malhao,
famous as a preacher.

To southward, seen from the ruined keep of
Obidos, the gentle hills rise higher and higher,
merging into those blue heights along which are
drawn the lines of Torres Vedras. The fertile
valleys sleep in the midday sun, extending away to
westward to the sea. There in the distance you

Obidos 203

may see the blue lake of Obidos, which is connected
with the ocean by the little Arelho river. In former
days, up to the beginning of the sixteenth century,
the lake extended to the foot of this rocky promi-
nence, making Obidos a seaport, separating it by
water from the chapel of St. Anthony. Beyond
the lake is rising ground whence you may see the
Burlings, rocks that stand out into the ocean, in
continuation of Cape Carvoeiro with its little sea
resort Peniche. The broad white road that leads
due north, past the church of Nosso Senhore da
Pedra, is lost to sight in the luxuriant verdure which
embowers Caldas da Rainha. This pretty little
town was known for its health-giving waters as long
ago as 1448, when Dona Leonor, wife of King
John III., discovered their healing qualities. Caldas
da Rainha has yet another attraction, a factory of
that peculiarly Portuguese industry called *' c^ra-
mique." It was founded in 1884 by a great artist,
Raphael Bordallo Pinheiro ; he died some time ago,
but his genius still inspires the exquisite work
fashioned here under his son's direction.

Fleeting clouds come up from the ocean, casting
their shadow over the face of the fair landscape.
But the sun-touched places show up in bolder relief —
the quintas, ochre, or pink, or yellow, in rich green
setting, the old walls and towers of Obidos. The rays
of sunlight seem to tarry for a moment to listen to
II

204 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

the story of those walls and towers. There is one
squat tower over a gateway which played its part
in history when the loyal folk of Obidos held out
in favour of Dom Sancho II. against the Duke of
Burgundy in the thirteenth century. The Duke, a
brother of the King, laid claim to the throne of
Portugal and had invested Obidos. The town was
hard pressed, and want of food began to undermine
the power of the defenders of that gateway, which
being most easy of access was most exposed to the
fury of the assault. A shrine, dedicated to Nossa
Senhora da Gra9a, " Our Lady of Grace," stood just
within the gate, and the women of Obidos vowed
that they would renew that shrine if their men held
out — and this they did, until the Alcade of Coimbra
brought news that Dom Sancho II. had died, without
issue, so the crown passed to the Duke of Burgundy,
as Dom Affonso III. A new shrine was then raised
to Nossa Senhora da Gra9a.

Five centuries later another story, of local interest
only, centred in this gateway. A young lady of
Obidos, daughter of a local magnate, fell in love
with a young poet. The father did not consider
this a good enough match, and had the young man
turned out of the town. The poor girl went into
a decline ; the anxious father gave in at last, and
exerted all his power to recall the poet, who
arrived only in time to see his lady die. On her

Obidos 205

death-bed she had made a vow to the Virgin,
promising to take the image of Nossa Senhora from
its shrine and to build a small chapel for it inside
the tower, should her lover return safely from Africa.
The father carried out his daughter's intention, and,
further, laid down sufficient funds to maintain an
attendant priest.

The clouds sail on, leaving Obidos to dream of
the past, hurry on to cling round Nossa Senhora
das Neves, who from her ruined sanctuary looks
down serenely on the doings of men in the valleys
below.

Another shrine rises to Our Lady not far from
the broad high-road that leads northwards from
Caldas da Rainha, past the tiny harbour of
S. Martinho do Porto. High up on a clifC over-
looking the ocean, stands a church dedicated to
Nossa Senhora de Nazareth ; it is still in perfect
repair, and thanks to the offerings of the devout
is uncommonly wealthy. The story goes that Dom
Fuas Roupinho, while out hunting one day, when
stags were plentiful in the surrounding forests, lost
control of his horse. He was carried to the edge
of the cliff, and seeing his peril called to the Virgin,
who heard him in his distress. By a miracle his
horse pulled up sharp on its haunches, its forelegs
over the precipice, and Dom Fuas was saved. To
remove all possible doubt the exact spot where this

2o6 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

happened is still shown. Nazareth itself is a tiny-
town at the foot of this interesting cliff; a diligence
connects it with the railway station of Vallado.

The same station serves a yet more ancient,
yet more interesting town. A broad road, fringed
with poplars, not always in the best repair, runs
from Vallado eastward. It leads across the plain
at first, through woods and meadows, then turns
sharply to the right and rises up the side of a hill
where pine trees grow from among the rocks, and
graceful birch-trees stand out against the blue-green
background. The woods recede in favour of houses,
the uneven country road turns into a cobbled street
which leads into a large square. It is Sunday, and
teeming life is everywhere ; signs of it are in
evidence along the road, a stream of country folk
coming and going, some on foot, each man carrying
his long quarter-staff, many on active little donkeys ;
sturdy peasants, good-looking country women, each
with a friendly greeting for the stranger. Sunday
is market day at Alcobaga, and the venerable build-
ings, church, and monastery look on upon a familiar
scene — country produce displayed for sale under
big umbrellas, pottery of all kinds grouped round
the trunks of shady trees or aligned in the shadow
of the church, along the wall.

The origin of Alcoba9a is unknown. Dom
Affonso Henriques, Portugal's first King, took it from

72*^-''. 1 '''*•

grtiiv^ifttrt^^-if^i I .

207

AIcoba?a 209

the Moors in his victorious progress from north to
south in 1 147. He tarried here where the little
rivers Alcoa and Baga meet, before marching to
attack Santarem. Ere he set out he promised to the
monks of the Order of St. Bernard all the land
which they could see from the neighbouring height
of Albades, should his enterprise meet with success.
We have heard of that desperate night attack which
added Santarem to the many conquests of Dom
Affonso Henriques. The King fulfilled his promise
royally ; for besides granting the land, he founded the
monastery as well, and it became the most important
institution of its kind in Portugal — in fact, it was at
one time the largest in the world. One thousand
monks lived here permanently, many privileges
became theirs, and their Superior was one of the
highest dignitaries of the State. Persons of high
station have held that office — Dom Affonso, the son
of Manoel o Fortunato, raised to the rank of
cardinal, when yet a child, by Pope Leo X., and
after him his brother Cardinal Dom Henriques, last
of the House of Aviz.

The construction of these buildings lasted from
1 148 till 1222, and was not without frequent in-
terruptions. The Moors attacked Alcobaga repeatedly
and sacked it in 1195. Then, when more settled
times set in, the huge monastery flourished for a
while. The monks kept open house and offered

2IO A Winter Holiday in Portugal

board and lodging to all who came that way, while
the library acquired rich treasures ; it is said to have
contained 30,000 volumes. But other monasteries
founded in different parts of the country detracted
from the greatness of Alcoba^a, and the glory de-
parted for ever when Dona Maria II. suppressed
all monastic institutions in 1834, twenty-four years
after Massena's army of Vandals had passed this way.
The buildings are now used for secular purposes,
partly as Government offices, partly as barracks. But
the beautiful church is still devoted to its former
purpose. You enter under a Gothic arch which seems
to rebuke the flamboyant rococo fa9ade, to find your-
self in the vast body of the church. Twenty-four
pillars form each of the eight columns that soar up
to support the arched ceiling, separating the nave,
dedicated to the Virgin, from the north and south
aisles, dedicated respectively to St. Michael and St.
Bernard. This shrine is a vision of dazzling white
stone, flecked with colour carried by the rays of the
sun through stained-glass windows, or tinged with
mysterious pearly greys where the shadows fall,
or rest on pillars and arches of pure Gothic in
majestic simplicity. Kings and princes lie buried
here — Affbnso II. and his son Affonso III., and
Pedro, brother of the founder, Grand Master of the
Order of Aviz. Mysterious shadows cling round the
arches of a small chapel by the south transept ; the

Alcoba^a 2 1 1

faint light from a Gothic window, heavily screened
with ivy from outside, falls on two sarcophagi, and
suggests rather than shows the outlines of sculptured
figures. The figures are placed with their feet towards
each other, and that by order of him who rests in
the sarcophagus supported by six couchant lions,
Dom Pedro I. The other tomb, resting on six
sphinxes, contains the remains of Ignez de Castro,
whom Dom Pedro loved, and whose sad story is
whispered by the reeds that fringe the Mondego,
the Lovers' river, at Coimbra. These two have rested
here for close on six centuries, in the hope that on
arising at the Judgment Day their eyes may meet
at once.

Two Queens of Portugal are buried in this chapel —
Dona Urraca, wife of Affonso III., and Dona
Brites of Castile, married to Affonso IV.

Of the five cloisters only one remains, that of
King Denis, a fine specimen of mediaeval Gothic and
Manueline. The influence of King Manuel's time is
further evidenced in the doorway which leads to the
sacristy, the work of John of Castilho, and another
just opposite.

The little river Alcoa flows under the church in
the direction of the immense kitchen of the monks,
through which water was formerly conducted by a
channel traversing the stone-paved floor, and con-
necting the river with the fish-ponds. A vast array

212 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

of culinary utensils was at hand, enough to cook
dinners for an army in those days when the smoke of
the wood fire curled up the sides of that immense
chimney standing on its eight iron columns, those
days when the monks of Alcoba9a dispensed hospitality
right royally.

The country folk come up to Alcobaga of a Sunday,
they trade with the townsfolk in the shadow of the
great church. Who thinks, or even knows, of those
days when Alcoba9a took part in history, and gave
a resting-place to monarchs who lived and strove
for the greater glory of their country?

It is only a short railway journey from Vallado to
Leiria. The station is some distance from the town,
and a diligence takes travellers to and fro. Leiria
has its castle, standing high on a hill, with walls
that come down to the town but do not, as at Obidos,
encircle it. The town has a peculiar charm which
it is difficult to analyse. It may be due to the little
river Liz which flows so happily through it and
reflects the trees that line the roads, or stand in
groups, and adorn the well-kept public gardens. It
may be that the Holiday-maker was well satisfied with
what the hotel, named after the river, had to offer.
Perhaps it was the busy market (Leiria has two
market days a week), and those country women in their
quaint costumes, which exercised a spell. Certainly
the women were very pretty, some even beautiful ;

Leiria 2 1 3

whether bargaining or only looking on, or riding
homeward, each on a nimble donkey, their graceful
movements were a source of real delight. Towards
evening there was a constant stream of lasses to
and from the fountain close by the hotel. Each
one balanced a large pitcher, in form the immediate
descendant of the amphora, on her shapely head.
The right way is to balance it in a slanting position
when empty, upright when full, and it is then that
the graceful carriage of these damsels is seen to
perfection. Surely this is enough to bring contentment
to a holiday-maker. But there are other attractions ;
the narrow streets seem to give a better insight into
their character when the sun has set and lamps
are struggling rather vainly against the encroaching
darkness. The tinkling sound of guitars and
mandolins, and a band of young men, some carrying
lanterns held high on sticks, others behind them
playing, all marching in step to the rhythm of the
music, swings round the corner of a street, then
round another, and so perambulates the town. The
townsfolk, especially the ladies, seem pleased with
this attention ; and when the band happens to
stop under the windows of one or the other
of these old houses, a neighbouring street lamp
looks very knowing, almost winks, as it suggests a
time-honoured quotation beginning *' sunt pueri
pueri !

214 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Yet another feature of Leiria adds to its attrac-
tiveness— the old castle. It looks so friendly as it
stands out, lit up by the morning sun. Unlike
other castles, it does not frown down upon the
men and women in the town below it ; on the
contrary, it seems to smile sympathetically. Perhaps
the large window openings cause this effect, they
give the ancient stronghold a much more genial
appearance than loopholes, which always suggest a
store of arrows, bolts, or some such hurtful missiles,
ready to fly on the least provocation. Again, the
broken Gothic pillars of the chapel, which rise
above the walls, help to soften the hard outlines
of the fortress. The old castle of Leiria has seen
stirring times. Moors and Portuguese fought for
possession of it with varying success, for it was
a place of great strategic importance in the Middle
Ages. Dom Affonso Henriques first took it from
the Moors; Dom Sancho I. gave a charter to the
town ; Dom Diniz stayed here several times ; and
the Cortes, the Parliament of Portugal, met here in
1354, when Affonso III. was King, again under
Dom Fernando in 1376, and lastly under Dom
Duarte, 1436.

It is pleasant to ramble about the ruins of Leiria
Castle, to note the different styles of architecture
as successive monarchs added to the structure. The
view from the summit is very beautiful. Clouds

Bataiha 215

are hurrying across the blue sky of Portugal,
moving southward over the rolling country where
the broad white road leads through pine forests,
down to Alcoba^a, Obidos, and over the heights
of Torres Vedras to Lisbon.

A broad high-road leads from Leiria to Bataiha,
the Westminster and Battle Abbey of Portugal,
leads up and down hill, through pine forests on the
heights, through fields of young wheat in the valleys,
past pleasant homesteads embowered among olive
trees, with here and there the pink blush of an
almond tree. Mild-mannered country folk meet you
and pass the time of day, some riding on donkeys,
some encouraging other such hardy little animals
to further progress under a heavy load. Fleeting
clouds, rising up out of the west, scud across the blue
sky of Portugal, hasten to the mountains, where
they wreathe themselves about the rocky crags that
crown the summit, and linger fondly in the hollows
around the ruins of a deserted shrine or fallen
monastery.

From a high point on the road slender pinnacles
and spires, fantastic stonework, carved so fine that
it gleams like lace in the light of the sun, rise up
from the valley below. This is Bataiha, this is
the shrine that Dom Joao I. swore to build should
he defeat his enemy the Spaniard ; and this is the
monument he erected, according to his vow, when he

2i6 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

beat King Juan of Castile in battle near here, at
Aljubarrota, and thus founded a new dynasty. The
outside is a marvel of stone carving, rich, but not
overpoweringly so. The effect of the abbey is
strangely beautiful. Beautiful, too, it is when you
pass in at the glorious west entrance into the shade
of the sanctuary. Here are clusters of tall slender
pillars, which separate to support the roof; the
prevailing tone is a warm grey, verging into purple,
with here and there a splash of bright colour where
the rays of the sun strike through stained glass.
The distant altars and transepts take on a paler,
colder hue, preparing you for the exquisite rich-
ness of the sculptured tombs that lie in their
several chapels.

Three tombstones detain us for a moment.
Under one immediately inside the door lies Matheus
Fernandes, one of the architects ; near him, but
in a corner of the south aisle, a delicately chiselled
stone covers Gongalo Travassos, tutor to a prince ;
and just before the entrance to the first chapel rests
a hero, Martim Gon9alves de Ma9ada, who saved his
King's life in battle. Here he rests, that chivalrous
spirit, almost at the feet of his royal master, for we
have to step over the warrior's grave to enter the
chapel where rest Dom Joao and his wife, Philippa
of Lancaster, daughter of John of Gaunt. They
rest here, in a chapel of white stone, carved and

, - ^ p

217

Bataiha 2 1 9

fashioned in wondrous designs, all beautiful, and on
the big tomb lie their effigies in stone. In contrast
to their setting these figures are plainly, severely
wrought, and one is holding the other by the hand.
And around them in the chapel lie others of their
race. Here lies their son, Infante Dom Henrique,
who so worked, to the greater glory of Portugal
and greater honour to himself, at all which concerned
seamanship that he became known to posterity as
" the Navigator." This tomb is decorated with
branches of yew and the device " Talent de bien
faire," hewn in stone. There are yet others : Dom
Joao II., whose body was first buried at Silves in
the far south of the land ; then there is Dom
Affonso, son of Dom Joao II.; Dom Affonso V.
and his wife Isabel ; Dom Pedro, Duke of Coimbra,
and Regent during the minority of Affonso V. till
1447. Then comes Dom Joao, constable of the
realm, and his proud device is " J'ai bien reson
[raison]." Last comes Dom Fernando, pious and
resigned, who died at Fez, a prisoner of the Moors,
and under horrible sufferings.

Yet another King and Queen of Portugal rest in
this church — Dom Duarte (Edward) and Leonor, his
wife ; they lie before the high altar, their feet towards
the east, and the stone effigies upon the tomb are
hand in hand. A figure of Nossa Senhora da Victoria,
who gained the victory which led to the foundation of

220 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

this glorious shrine, adorns the doorway of the south
transept.

There are other chapels, there are other monu-
ments, and some pictures to see, but the warm rays of
sunshine, coming through the stained-glass windows,
draw us out into the open ; through two cloisters,
both of singular beauty, but in very different ways.
First comes the cloister of the Kings, and it is
right regal. Profusely decorated arches follow each
other round the quadrangle, and in no instance is the
design of one arch repeated in another. There is
music here too, for in one corner of the quadrangle
stands the fountain, enshrined in richly sculptured
stone ; its voice mingles with the song of birds, and
there is everywhere the scent of flowers. The cloister
of Dom Affonso V. is smaller, its lines are very
graceful, and lack the exuberant stone carving that
adorns the Kings' cloister ; it is simple, almost severe,
yet beautiful. Here too are bird-song and scent of
flowers.

There was yet another cloister, that of Dom
Joao III., but it has been pulled down, and modern
offices are springing up in its stead. Winding your
way between piles of bricks, mortar-pits, and such
things as pertain to building, you turn to the right,
and suddenly find yourself face to face with an
astounding bit of work ; it is the entrance to the
" Unfinished Chapel." A huge rope of stone has

Bataiha 221

been taken and twisted into all manner of fantastic
knots— so it appears ; it is almost incredible, but there
it is, hard stone knotted and twisted, the columns
striving upwards spirally, then the ropes divide, and
interlace and twine about until the eyesight is dazed
by watching their contortions. And this doorway
leads to the chapel which Dom Manoel I., called the
Fortunate, was erecting when his attention became
centred on the Abbey of S. Jeronymos, at Belem,
which he had vowed to build in honour of Vasco
da Gama's return. So here the chapel stands,
unfinished to this day ; a rotunda with seven chapels,
each one a gem of Manueline architecture, each one
with decorations of a different design, and the graceful
windows are adorned with stained glass ; but grass
grows where the pavement should be, and the blue
sky of Portugal is the roof to this, the " Unfinished
Chapel." Thus it has stood for centuries, thus it
may stand for many more — unfinished ; but this is
Portugal.

It stands serenely looking down on the little
houses that surround it, does Bataiha Abbey ; its
clustering pillars commune with the sunshine that
streams in through stained-glass windows. They
talk of the mighty dead who rest beneath their
canopies of fretted stones, of Dom Joao I., the
founder, whose victory over the Spaniards caused them
to arise, of his English wife, and their great son,

222 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Prince Henry the Navigator, of the days when
Portugal was great and glorious, and of the deeds
that made her so.

The light fades from the sky, leaving the stately
nave in gloom ; clouds are travelling over the land
and casting shadows on Batalha, the shrine of
Portugal's glory. Clouds are passing over Portugal.

223

CHAPTER IX

THE left bank of the Tagus recedes to the south-
east, and forms a grand harbour, wherein all
the warships of the world could easily find room to
anchor. A point of land protects the harbour from
the strong tide that flows in from the sea, though such
protection is not necessary. The point is called that
of Cacilhas, reached by a service of small steamers
from the Caes de Sodre. Cacilhas and the sur-
rounding country is a favourite holiday resort for the
people of Lisbon, and from here you may go to
Trafaria, through Almada, over the heights of Monte
de Caparica, enjoying a glorious view of the broad
river with its shipping, the capital, with its Govern-
ment offices, gleaming above the forest of masts, rising
tier upon tier. There is Fort St. George standing
out of a sea of red-roofed houses, proud of its stern
history, and rather sorry for the venerable cathedral
with its disguise of scaffolding. To westward, on
another hill, rises the beautiful dome of the Basilica
d'Estrella, flanked by its graceful bell towers, behind
it the dark cypress trees of St. George's Cemetery.

12 225

226 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Farther to westward, Belem, with its stout tower
reflected in the water, the church of St. Hieronymus,
that jewel of Manueline art, in its setting of waving
palms, and above it the Necessidades Palace, with a
background of dark pines. Yet farther out, the
lighthouse, the azure coast of the Tagus, Mount
Estoril with its embowered villas, Cascaes with its
ancient fort ; and behind all this, to northward, the
strong outlines of the Serra of Cintra, where the
white cupola of the Pena palace gleams in the blue
sky of Portugal.

There were watchers on these heights when
Dom Sebastiao, in 1578, set out for Morocco, never
to return. Among these was Dona Magdalena,
wife of Dom Joao de Portugal, and her sorrows are
related in a drama, ** Frei Luiz de Souza," by
Visconde dAlmeida Garrett. Dom Joao sailed with
his King, and left Dona Magdalena sorrowing in his
castle at Almada. She exerted all her powers to
obtain news of her husband, aided by his devoted old
squire, Telmo Paes, but all in vain. So after seven
years Dona Magdalena became the wife of a man
she had loved for many years, Dom Manoel de Souza,
a Knight of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem,
fearless and faithful. They had an only child, Maria,
delicate in health and given to strange fancies ; old
Telmo loved her fondly. Dona Magdalena still
lived in uncertainty as to her first husband's fate.

"Frci Luiz de Souza" 227

Telmo would not believe him dead, for on the very

morning of the battle at El Kasr-el-Kebir, when the

chivalry of Portugal went under in a sea of blood,

Dom Joao had written to his wife, " Dead or alive,

I shall reappear to you yet once again in this

world," and the old servant was certain that his dear

master would not fail to appear also to him who loved

him so.

The House of Aviz had died out ; a Spaniard,

Philip II., first of that name in Portugal, ruled
over that country. During the twenty years which
had elapsed since King Sebastian crossed the bar
and passed out to sea, many Portuguese nobles had
become reconciled to Spanish domination, had even
taken service under the foreign master. Of these
were the governor and his council in Lisbon when
the events here told occurred. Dom Manoel de
Souza was informed one day that these authorities,
well knowing his fealty to his own country, proposed
to visit him, to make his house at Almada their
refuge from the plague which raged in Lisbon.
Dom Manoel determined that his house should not
shelter them ; he prepared to remove to Dom Joao's
castle, and before leaving set fire to his own
mansion. Dona Magdalena glanced once more
into that large room, chief witness to the happy
family life of her second marriage — the room with
the two large windows, lighting up the treasures

228 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

gathered together from Portugal's over-seas empire —
porcelain and lacquer work from China, rich em-
broideries from India — which led to a wide terrace
giving a glorious view over the river to plague-
stricken Lisbon. Greedy flames devoured the
hangings of those windows, and leapt at the picture
fixed in the space between them, lighting up the
portrait of a young knight robed in the black mantle
of his order, showing vividly the white cross of
St. John. The canvas curled and withered under
the hissing flames, and Dona Magdalena fled horror-
stricken from the room. Renewed agony overcame
her when, entering the hall of her first husband's
castle, the flare of a solitary torch shed its uncertain
light on the portrait of Dom Joao.

Only a week later Dona Magdalena was sitting
in that hall with Frei Jorge the Dominican,
Dom Manoel's brother, when a pilgrim was an-
nounced ; he desired speech of the lady. He was
admitted, and delivered a message from one whose
captivity he had shared in Pagan dungeons, one
who had loved the lady well, but had found it
impossible to communicate with her. Dona Magda-
lena began to realise that some dreadful revelation
was about to follow ; Frei Jorge, still incredulous,
asked whether the pilgrim could recognise his fellow
captive's portrait. The pilgrim silently pointed to
the portrait on the wall. Crying " My daughter I

"Frci Luiz dc Souza'* 229

my daughter ! " Dona Magdalena fled from the
room. Frei Jorge inquired further: "Pilgrim! pil-
grim ! who are you ? " And again the pilgrim's
staff pointed to the portrait on the wall.

While this was happening Dom Manoel and his
daughter were returning from Lisbon. Re-entering,
Maria found her mother prostrate, and herself was
stricken with a haemorrhage which threatened to
prove fatal ; the poor child had some subtle intuition
of the terrible trouble which had befallen her
parents, although no word had been said to her
about it.

For the unhappy parents there was no way out
of the difficulty than to separate and each to seek
monastic seclusion. The Patriarch of Lisbon con-
firmed their opinion, and made smooth the way for
the fulfilment of their purpose.

None but the Patriarch, Dom Manoel, Magdalena,
and Frei Jorge knew then that the pilgrim hiding
in the friar's cell was Dom Joao of Portugal. He
declined to see any one but faithful old Telmo,
who did not at first recognise him. When Dom
Joao then revealed himself, Telmo was torn between
love of his old master and deep affection for Maria.
His position was made yet more unbearable when
his old master sternly ordered him to declare that
the pilgrim was an impostor, for Dom Joao, seeing
what grief he had brought to his former home,

230 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

desired to disappear again for ever. But Fate, acting
through Holy Church, had otherwise ordained.

The organ filled the church of the Dominicans,
adjoining the castle of Dom Joao, with solemn
harmonies as the monks chanted :

De profundis clamavi a te, Domine!
Domine exaudi vocem meam !

when little Maria, risen from her bed, ran up to her
parents and tried to raise them from their kneeling
position on the chancel steps. The pilgrim entered
during this interruption, urging Telmo to proclaim
him liar and impostor. But it was all of no avail.
Holy Church pursued her way relentlessly ; what that
Maria died as her parents lay prostrate, face down-
ward, arms extended cross-like before the high altar ?
The organ's solemn harmonies rolled on as the monks
sang the verses of the Hebrew poet to the inexorable
God of the Hebrews.

No vestige remains of Dom Joao's castle, no
trace is left of Dom Manoel's mansion, and the sad
story of their misfortunes is only half remembered ;
not even that, perhaps, by those who cross over
from Lisbon to Cacilhas on a Sunday morning, in
order to enjoy the glorious air, the lovely view from
the heights of Caparica. Among these, one Sunday
morning, was the Holiday-maker. He was bound
for Alfeite, for a high-placed personage had given

Alfeite 231

him permission to visit a king's palace there. Alfeite
is only three miles or so from Cacilhas, so the
Holiday-maker shouldered his painting kit and
walked briskly to his destination. A drive through
a park leads to the palace, where an official called
" almoxarife " (steward) received the Holiday-maker
with true Portuguese courtesy, and showed him all
there is to show.

The palace is nothing more than a commodious
country house, built by Dom Pedro V. in 1857,
surrounded by charming gardens, with a glorious
view of Lisbon from the terrace by the sea. It
became a royal domain as long ago as the four-
teenth century, when Eleanor, wife of Dom
Fernando I., took possession. It has since passed
through several hands, till it again became the
property of the royal family in 1707. There are
pleasant walks about the extensive park, with here
and there a glimpse between pine trees, over the
harbour towards Lisbon, or to eastward an extensive
view of the marshy country about Seixal, with its
background of pines and grey olive groves.

All these things the kindly almoxarife showed the
Holiday-maker, and then left him to his own devices,
which resulted in a sketch of the river to northward.
The sketch was just finished when the almoxarife
returned, followed by a groom leading a handsome
bay horse. The Holiday-maker was invited to mount.

23^ A Winter Holiday in Portugal

which he gladly did. Then followed instructions in
Portuguese, tinged with French, but inadequately
understood. At any rate, the Holiday-maker, after
a ride in the park, returned to the palace, where a
servant motioned him towards the exit, the road to
Cacilhas. Inquiries, probably misunderstood, as to
the painting kit provoked identical gestures. The
Holiday-maker therefore concluded that a groom had
taken the painting kit to Cacilhas, and was waiting
there to bring the horse home again. Most con-
siderate, a very delicate attention, thought the Holi-
day-maker, as he rode along the road thronged with
others, in carriages, on donkeys, or on bicycles, all
loudly happy. But at Cacilhas there was no groom
waiting to take the horse home, so the Holiday-
maker explained his predicament in his own rendering
of Portuguese, and with much fore-hand action, to a
courteous sergeant of the Guarda Fiscal, a military
body which sees to the Custom dues. The horse
indulged in some forehand action too, tried to balance
itself on a long, wavy tail, and generally indicated
that this was no time for " palaver." The sergeant
endorsed the Holiday-maker's explanation, of which
he understood nothing, with a polite " Si, senhore,'
and then himself started a fine discourse, encouraged
by an audience of five small boys. The only
answer to this brilliant speech was " Si, senhore,"
and the discussion threatened to lead to no results.

233

Barreifo 235

Fortunately a subaltern officer of the Guarda Fiscal
came that way ; a happy inspiration led the Holiday-
maker to address him as Senhor Capitao, and, better
still, the gallant gentleman knew French and English
well. He knew the horse too, had it taken to the
stable, to stay until some one should come from
Alfeite to fetch it, and undertook to send the painting
kit over to Lisbon on the following day. A very
polite note accompanying the painting kit, escorted
by a bouquet of camellias, informed the Holiday-
maker of the nature of the misunderstanding. It
was meant that he should promenade the park
only, then return to take tea at the palace with the
almoxarife, who feared lest he had offended the
Holiday-maker that he had ridden away without
the usual farewells.

There are other attractions on the left bank of the
River Tagus. Leaving Black Horse Square in con-
nection with trains that run to the extreme south,
through the Alemtejo to the distant Algarve, a steamer
takes you to Barreiro, the terminus of the Southern
Railway. The steamers, beyond the fact that they
transport passengers from one bank of the river to
the other, have little to recommend them. They are
not distinguished for cleanliness, or any other form
of comfort. Neither has Barreiro any great attrac-
tions to offer ; at first sight some might even find
the place uninteresting, and the smell which emanates

236 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

from the chemical works is a little too rich for ordinary
mortals. Yet Barreiro is a place of some importance ;
it has factories, exports cork in different phases, and
harbours a population which gives expression to political
fervour by letting off fireworks on all occasions.

The Holiday-maker, as it happens, is very fond
of Barreiro, for there he met with more than usual
kindness, even for Portugal. Moreover, his tempo-
rary home there offered another attraction, in addition
to the delightful company of his friends : there was
a cork factory close by, and to see other people work
is always a joy to the real holiday-maker.

The immediate surroundings of Barreiro are not
strikingly attractive, but here and there you may
find a pretty bit — some old quinta, either ruined
or, if inhabited, vainly trying to conceal decay,
picturesque under the shadow of upstart eucalyptus
or venerable pine trees. A broad road leads inland,
almost due south, through cork forests or lined by
tall poplars, past cultivated fields, with here and there
a whitewashed homestead, until you are brought up
sharp in front of a long building. Here is Azeitao,
and the big block of buildings was once a monastery ;
close by stands a neglected ducal palace. A road
crosses the one we came by here, leading on the right-
hand side over the Serra d'Arrabida to Cezimbra
on the coast ; to the left hand the road leads away
to Setubal and down into the Alemtejo.

Arrabida 237

For a day in the open, ascending higher and
higher into clear mountain air, there are few places to
equal the Serra d' Arrabida. To enjoy it thoroughly
you must be in good health and indifferent to minor
inconveniences, which after all are more or less
imaginary ; above all you must be imbued with the
spirit of holiday-making. There is a road up to the
summit, recently constructed, but the right way to
enjoy the excursion is by the local means of transport,
donkeys. A sinewy elder, appropriately called Figo
Passado, " Withered Fig," will supply any number
of donkeys if given reasonable notice, and awaits
your arrival at the cross-roads. Saddle and bridle
are unknown. A loosely-stuffed sack is bound on
to the donkey's back, and hides all but his extremities.
On this ladies sit sideways, men astride, and you may
endeavour to guide your steed with the rope that
goes about the donkey's head if it amuses you — it will
not in any way affect the pace or direction of your
mount. Figo Passado and his fellows go with you
on foot, carrying long quarter-staffs, and order the
pace by frequent exclamations : " Ah ! " " Burro ! " or
the animal's name, which may be that of a Minister
of State, chosen temporarily, and possibly in supposed
accord with the tourist's political views. The direction
is entrusted to the donkey which from its earliest days
has shown a desire to lead ; even a leader may be
an ass, and find other asses willing to follow. There

238 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

are numerous tracks over the mountains, some not
visible to the naked eye, others which serve the
additional purpose of watercourse ; and the foremost ass
leads through a maze of these, over rocks and heather,
through thick scrub, or under the stunted trees of a
dense forest, with marvellous surety, made pleasanter
by the reflection that the journey is bound to lead
somewhere. Emerging out of the jungle-like forest,
full of life — heard, not seen — gnarled boughs and
twisted branches rustling in harmony with tiny
streams that tinkle down the valley over mossy rocks,
a clearly defined path, interrupted by an occasional
rock, leads along the south side of the crest to the
ruined monastery of Bom Jesus d'Arrabida.

Here Arabs probably had a fortified station ; the
tall, solemn cypresses seem to brood over the
memories of their time. Then Christian monks
settled here, and to them the present mass of
irregular buildings is due. There are a tiny chapel
and tinier cells, fountains in recesses with stone
benches, and on the walls traces of decorations made
of fragments of broken bottles, the use of which, no
doubt, those pious brethren eschewed. The decora-
tions have almost entirely disappeared at the hands
of visitors, who perhaps did not share the same
objection to the bottle. There are terraces with
shady corners suitable for picnics, and down far
away down the hill-side is the sea, in the intense

Bacalhda 239

colours of sapphire, amethyst, and emerald, stretching
away into the warm southern haze, broken faintly
by the sandy point of Sines.

Seen from the lofty ridge which shelters the wide
bay below, the country to south-eastward looks singu-
larly attractive. There is a little town at the mouth
of a wide river, Setubal ; the river, Sado, winds away
inland, and is lost to sight among the slight undu-
lations of the ground.

In order to make closer acquaintance with the
details of the landscape seen from the Serra d'Arra-
bida, you turn sharp to the left at the cross-roads
of Azeitao. It is well to travel, as the Holiday-maker
did, in a sixty horse-power motor-car, for the road
is long, there is much to see, and holidays are quickly
sped. The road runs straight, lined by tall trees,
beyond which the deep green foliage of orange trees,
gleaming with golden fruit, droops over enclosing walls.
A gentle turn to the right, slightly uphill, through a
little village. Villa Fresca d'Azeitao, and the road
resumes its former direction, running beside a long
wall, some ten feet high. At the eastern end this
wall is broken by squat round towers with quaint,
fluted stone roofs, and above them rises yet another
royal palace, falling to decay. This, the palace of
Bacalhoa, despite its ruined state, is a fine specimen
of the architecture of two periods, or perhaps the
transition from the Gothic to that of the Renaissance.

240 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Some give Sansovino as the architect, others ascribe
it to Andrea Contucci, and it is said to have been
built for Dona Brites, daughter of Dom Joao, in
the fifteenth century. Dona Brites left this palace
to Dom Diogo, son of the Duke of Vizeu, Dom
Fernando, her husband, and perhaps it was due to
him that the portrait of the lady figures amongst
several others here. It seems that Bacalhoa changed
hands, for Dom Carlos bought it from the Duke
d'Alemquer in the last century. It was never
repaired, and now stands desolate with fallen roof
tree. A broad terrace, overgrown with grass, the
sides yet decorated with azuleja, leads to an artificial
lake expressing sadness over past glory in its unbroken
reflections.

Dom Manoel II. sat by this water not so long
before his warships shelled the royal palace of
Necessidades, and revolution raged in the streets of
his capital.

The road then leaves human habitations behind
and takes to the mountains, sweeping in wide curves
over the irregular eastern spurs of the Serra
d'Arrabida. At every turn a fresh view opens out,
unfolding a glorious panorama. There are deep
valleys that run at random between the rocky and
heather-clad heights, there are little hills rising out
of the valleys, both richly cultivated, then above
this the rambling outline of the mountains sloping

Sctubal 241

away to southward, giving a glimpse of the sea, and
to eastward allowing the ancient castle of Palmella
to look over the ridge occasionally. Flowering
broom covers the hill-sides and steep slopes with
its golden glory ; heather, white or purple, stands
higher than it does in Scotland — it is in places like
a bush, some four to six feet high. Hidden in the
long grass or in the shadow of rocks are many shy
little flowers, living quite content without a sight of
the great world of which broom and heather see so
much, and discourse so ably when the sound of
men's labours dies away on the evening breeze.

Having crossed the mountains, the road runs
down into the plains and has less occasion for so
many curves. Signs of human occupation increase
as the road passes through walled-in orange groves
to Setubal.

Setubal (St. Ubes) is a very important place —
any one who lives there will tell you so. It stands
at the mouth of the River Sado, has a sheltered
harbour, and overlooks a bay which is full of fish.
So fishing-boats go out to the bay and find employ-
ment for many; the fruits of their labours, chiefly
the daintier kinds of smaller fish, are tinned at
Setubal, and very excellent food are those sardines
and mackerel. Then Setubal exports oranges and
wine — is in fact very important, in spite of its rather
sleepy air. When Setubal does wake up, things

242 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

happen, and politics are found to be very rousing.
Last October's revolution in Lisbon filled the people
of Setubal with republican zeal : something had to
be done — things could not continue as they were — so
a band of zealots marched to a monastery outside the
town, to sack and burn it. This feat accomplished,
the people of Setubal returned to their former state
of dignified repose, which is only broken by an
occasional strike or the echo of some riot in Lisbon.
It is most unfortunate that the records, accounts, and
similar documents in the archives of the town also
became a prey to the flames, although in the middle
of the city, far from the scene of conflagration. It is
said that the mayor, brave man, bore this loss nobly ;
but what a misfortune it is that documents dealing
with a city of such importance can no longer serve
to inform future generations !

Setubal, for all its modern aspect — it has a park,
or gardens, and an avenue, fringed with trees — dates
some way back into history ; down by the river stands
an old fifteenth-century fort called Torre do Outao.
The Queen, Dona Amelia, established an excellent
hospital here for scrofulous children, in 1900 — no
doubt Setubal is duly grateful. Older still than
Torre do Outao are the ruins that stand on the
spit of land which just divides the mouth of the
river from the open sea ; here is Troia, formerly a
Roman city.

243

Palmella 245

Failing a motor-car, Setubal can be reached by
rail from Barreiro ; a branch line from Pinhal Novo
leads to Setubal, passing by Palmella. But the best
approach to Palmella is from Setubal : again you pass
between walls that enclose orange groves ; over the
tree-tops loom the mighty ruins of an ancient castle.
The road winds round the rocky eminence on which
the castle stands, crossing and recrossing the old
road used by the knights, a stone-paved road
leading straight down. A very steep ascent through
the village of Palmella, where windows and door-
ways fill with curious spectators attracted by the
snorting motor-car, ends at last under the ramparts of
the fort. Here a great many different epochs are
represented. There are stone ramparts with gun
embrasures, suggestive of Vauban, walls and towers
within this enceinte dating back through the Middle
Ages to the days of the Moors. The mosque still
stands ; its outer wall formed the curtain between
strong towers which remain to this day. The Christian
built his church inside the walls ; the Mussulman built
his mosque either without or as part of his defences,
being convinced that Allah was quite capable of
looking after his own. However, he failed to do
so on several occasions during the wars between
Cross and Crescent in Portugal, and on one such
occasion Palmella changed hands. The strategical
and tactical importance of Palmella is evident from
13

246 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

its position, so it became a very strong place with a
large garrison, as well as a settlement of knights of
a military monastic order, that of St. lago of the
Sword.

Like most other orders of this kind, that of
St. lago of the Sword, of Spain, tried to trace its
origin back to very remote times. It was said that
Rameiro, first King of Galicia, instituted the order
in 846 to commemorate a famous victory over the
Moors, of whom 67,000 had fallen. This success was
attributed to the saint, who, rather against his former
habits, was seen in the thickest of the fray, fighting
like the best of them, holding in one hand a blue
standard on which was a red sword with a cross hilt.
This remarkable attention on the part of the saint
could only be met with the courteous institution of
an order, dedicated to the saint alone, and, following
his excellent example, devoted to the effective method
of convincing your opponent by killing him. The
King gathered together the gentlemen who had dis-
tinguished themselves in the fight, united them into
a confraternity, and gave them as arms a sword gules
on field ore, with the device " Rubet ensis sanguine
Arabum." The only drawback to the latter end of
the story is that armorial bearings did not come into
use till after the tenth century or even later ; up to
that period only private or individual devices were worn.

From more reliable sources it is evident that the

The Order of St. lago 247

order dated from the twelfth century. There are
records showing that in the reign of King Ferdi-
nand II, of Leon and GaHcia the Moors interfered
very much with the pious pilgrims to the shrine of
Compostello, the sepulchre of St. lago. The canons
of St. Eloy, whose monastery stood in the Galician
mountains, devoted their very considerable fortune
to the building of hospices for the pilgrims along
the road to Compostello, the " Voie Frangoise." The
first of these hospices, that of St. Mark the Evan-
gelist, stood outside the walls of the city of Leon,
the second overlooked the defile of Castile and was
called Delas Tiendas. But further precautions were
necessary for the safety of the pilgrims, so thirteen
knights, invoking the protection of St. lago, bound
themselves by a vow to guard the road to Compos-
tello against the Moors. They communicated their
purpose to the canons of St. Eloy, then united
their goods to further their pious endeavour and
to benefit those who should come after. Between
them these knights owned more than twenty castles ;
the canons considered the proposal very " good
business," and, accepting all offers of assistance " vi
et armis," became in time connected with this order,
even subservient to it, acting as chaplains. A pact
regulating the relations between the two orders
was sealed in 1 1 70 by Dom Pedro Fernando de
Fuentes Encalada on account of the knights, and

248 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

for the monks by another Dom Fernando, after-
wards bishop, whose epitaph in the abbey church
of UcMs reads as follows :

OBIIT FERDINANDUS EPISCOPUS, B. MARI^ PRIMUS
PRIOR ORDINIS MILITIiE S. JACOBI ERA CCXI.

Pope Alexander III. confirmed the order in
1 1 75; he also permitted the knights to marry.

The first feat of this order was the capture from
the Moors of Caceres, in Estremadura. Then they
moved on from victory to victory, helping to conquer
Badajoz and Buexa, Luchena and Montemor.

When Dom Diniz was King, and nationalised all
the military orders with a view to the consolidation
of his kingdom, the branch of this Spanish Order
of St. lago, in Portugal, would probably have
become Portuguese too. At about this time the
badge was slightly altered ; it became a sword the
blade of which widened out an inch or two below
the hilt, ending in a somewhat blunted point,
handle and cross-bars spreading out into fleur-de-lis
at the extremities, and this remained the badge of
the Spanish order.

In the badge of the Portuguese branch the point
of the sword is turned into a fleur-de-lis, as well
as handle and cross-bars.

No doubt the Order of St. lago in Portugal
aided the endeavours of those who built up Portugal's

7

a

249

Palmella 2 5 1

over-seas empire, though there are no records avail-
able to show to what extent it did so. Surely
knights of this order accompanied King Sebastian
on his ill-fated expedition to Morocco, but again
there are no authentic records.

But their castle of Palmella still stands on its
rocky height, and, though ruined, bears traces of
former splendour which point to power and riches,
and these probably made the knights a nuisance
rather than a help, and brought about the dissolution
of the order in 1834. The castle in its palmiest
days probably served a double purpose ; the eastern
and older portion contained a garrison of royal
troops. Here is the mosque, here the stout main
tower surmounted by a minute sentry-box, of stone,
with openings to give a comprehensive view of the
surrounding landscape. And such a glorious view !
— to the south Setubal and the sea, the River Sado
winding through pine forests ; the undulating plains
of the Alemtejo to eastward, broken by the purple
line of heights before Casa Branca, fading into blue
distance towards Spain ; to northward in the plains,
the silver Tagus and Lisbon, behind these the dim
outline of the Serra of Cintra ; while to westward
the vine-clad foot-hills rise into the imposing masses
of the Serra d'Arrabida. A winding staircase leads
up to the summit of this stout tower, and down to
dungeons in the bowels of the earth.

252 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Between the western portion where the knights
lived and the quarters of the secular garrison stands
the ruined chapel of the order. Its original struc-
ture is of pure Gothic, but defiled by additions in
eighteenth-century taste. The arched roof of the
nave still protects the massive tombstones, carved
with armorial bearings, resting-places of the knights ;
but the chancel roof has fallen, and broken steps
lead to the high altar, stripped of all its decora-
tions but for a piece of marble, a richly coloured tile
or two.

Close by the chapel, and to westward, steps
lead to the apartments of the Grand Master, rooms
of state, where important guests were welcomed ;
thence you may wander through long corridors with
little cells on either hand, through grass-grown
cloisters falling into decay. The refectory, with its
quaint eighteenth-century doorway, is open to all
the winds that blow, and grass grows up between
the tiles that pave the floor. Azulejas of eighteenth-
century workmanship decked the walls and the
reading-desk — a recess in the wall, reached by a
doorway and a narrow winding staircase. These
azulejas have nearly all disappeared — the good folk
of Palmella have a taste for such things, and found
a definite use for many things the knights had left
behind them — furniture, window frames, and other
inconsidered trifles.

"Palmella 253

The pleasantest spot in all this vast castle is
the terrace. It overlooks the blue plains of the
Alemtejo to the south, and has a shady corner with
a broad stone bench. Here the Holiday-maker
spent a day in pleasant company, listening to a friend
who could tell of knights and their deeds, and of
those days when Portugal was great, before Palmella
was given over to ruin and desolation.

CHAPTER X

ON leaving Setubal the road bears east by a
point or two north, in order to join a road
connecting the railway at Pinhal Novo with the
country between the coast and the line which runs
farther inland. To reach such places as Alcacer do
Sal, Grandola, S. Thiago de Cacem, and Sines the
ordinary traveller has to journey by diligence, as the
motor-car service has been discontinued. This
mode of conveyance is bearable for short distances,
and the company, being Portuguese, is courteous
and entertaining, though one or the other fellow
traveller may be too strongly flavoured with garlic.
The remarks interchanged between the driver and
passers-by are also diverting. The Holiday-maker
once drove from Sines, in the company of friends,
to S, Thiago, conveyed in a smaller species of
diligence drawn by a bay horse of leisurely habits.
There were many others on the road, and each
had some remark to offer after passing the time

of day. One kindly soul suggested, " Do not go

254

Alcacer do Sal 255

to S. Thiago ; it is cold there " ; but as the Holiday-
maker and his party were within half a mile of that
town it was too late to turn back, so the lady's
advice was disregarded, and the driver continued
his address to the bay horse, " Va ! casta — nhe ! "

A drive of twelve hours or so by diligence is
rather more than ordinary holiday-makers chose to
stand, and this one was fortunate enough to be taken
in a friend's powerful motor-car. The road leads
through a vast plain, cultivated in places, in others
a glowing mass of heather and broom, with clumps
of umbrella pines here and there. The broad,
marshy expanses of the Sado River are being
reclaimed for rice, the young blades spreading a
web of tender green over the rich black soil. Then
the road rises over the western end of a ridge which
reaches its highest point at Montemor, near Evora,
to eastward, to Alcacer do Sal, skirts the town
in a wide sweep, drops down to the River Sado,
crosses it, and bears on due south through Grandola
to S. Thiago de Cacem.

From the banks of the river, beyond the bridge,
Alcacer do Sal looks most imposing. The houses
rise in tiers up the side of the hill, and on the
highest point stands the ruined castle, which contains
a small but interesting archaeological museum. It
is an ancient city, Alcacer do Sal, and was im-
portant in its time. The Romans found a Celtic

256 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

settlement here, built a castle, and called their colony
Salacia, on account of the salt industry they founded,
which still keeps the citizens leisurely employed.
Pliny the Younger speaks of Alcacer do Sal as
" Salacia, cognominata urbs imperatoria." That the
Moors gained possession of the town and castle is
proved by the present name ; of the history of
the interval between Roman and Moorish rule
nothing is known. The Moors named the town
Al-Kassr, and held it until the Christian armies
from the north drove them out at the end of the
twelfth century. But the Moors returned five years
later under Al-Manssor, and retook the whole province
of Al-Kassr, Evora alone holding out against them.
But their stay was short; in 1218, during the reign
of Affonso II., Alcacer was definitely reunited to
Portugal. It is a pretty old town, with its white
church and houses clustering round the hill crowned
by the ruined castle of Roman, Moorish, Christian
governors. There is also an old abbey church,
fenced in by a hedge of prickly pear, so useful for
hanging out the washing ; a lacework of white fruit-
blossoms hides the grey walls long before the winter
ends in more northern countries.

Through gently undulating country, covered by
extensive cork forests, the road leads ever south.
Grandola is a small, straggling township, with little
of interest ; it is not even particularly pretty, though

S. Thiago dc Cacem 257

here, as elsewhere, wayfarers group themselves
picturesquely to discuss their concerns, and no doubt
those of others, with due deliberation. The road
begins to ascend and descend in rather steeper
gradients ; it curves rather more boldly round rocky
prominences. The country is laid out more for
agriculture than for cork forests, though they loom
grey in the distance, when from rising ground a
line of windmills stand up white against the blue
sky. On approaching nearer a further height comes
into view, and on its crest a mass of walls and towers,
surmounted by white spires, flanked by soaring
cypress trees. This is S. Thiago de Cacem, with
its line of windmill outposts. Passing through the
line of windmills, the road winds down steeply to
where the town begins to ascend the hill on which
the castle stands. Here the road rests before
hurrying on round the hill, in an open space, where
the leisured of S. Thiago de Cacem — they are
many and of all classes — assemble to watch the
arrival of the diligence, to stare hard at strange
motor-cars, or, failing those attractions, to wrap them-
selves in profound thought — at least this is what
their appearance suggests. There are, of course,
some amongst this gathering who are not, strictly
speaking, men of leisure ; it is only their method
of doing business which is leisurely. The most
important among these are they who come from

258 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

the cork forests carrying little sacks filled with
specimens of cork-wood ; this is an important feature
in the commercial life of the countryside. There
are also one or two small stalls where divers com-
modities are sold, or not, according to the eagerness
of seller and buyer. The most picturesque of those
who have their business in this open space are
the water-sellers. They cluster round the big fountain
filling their red earthenware jars, which fit into a
framework fastened to a donkey's back. This done,
and the situation, whatever it may be, thoroughly
discussed, the water-sellers perambulate the streets
offering their ware, " Agua fi-esca ! "

S. Thiago, for all its sleepy air, is an important
place, and has been so for many centuries. Exactly
how many centuries it is difficult to tell, for the
earliest days are veiled by legends. Yet it may be
supposed that either here, or very near, was an
ancient settlement, Merobriga, and the ending
"briga" invariably denotes Celtic origin. It is
possible that the Phoenicians called here, as they
did elsewhere in the peninsula, but nothing remains
to show that they did ; and then it is so long ago —
they first visited Spain fifteen centuries before the
birth of Christ — and many more recent nations and
cities have vanished in the meanwhile. The first
to shed light on the history of this town, or what-
ever town stood here, was Pliny the Younger

259

S« Thiago de Caccm 261

again ; he mentions cities of Celtico-Phoenician
origin, among them Merobriga Celtici. Rezende, an
illustrious Portuguese historian of the sixteenth
century, in his " Antiquitates Lusitanise," declares
that :

" Plinius Merobrigse meminit, ac mirum est
Cetobrigam omisisse in ora positam, cum Salaciam
multo interius locatam non praeterierit, neque Mero-
brigam, sex fere milibus passus ab littore separa-
tam. Verba illius sunt : Oppida memorabilia a
Tago in ora, Olysippo, equarum e Favonio vento
conceptu nobile, Salacia cognominata urbs impera-
toria, Merobriga, promontorium sacrum, et alterum
Cuneus.

" Interiit autem Merobriga, in cujus locum suc-
cessit juxta oppidum S. Jacobus cognomine Cacem,
oppidum in excelso colle positum."

He goes on to describe the place as surrounded
by walls with towers, some whole, others broken ;
he mentions an aqueduct, and a bridge spanning
the valley, and other such matter which lends
importance to a city.

Rezende seemed quite satisfied that S. Thiago
de Cacem succeeded Merobriga, on the same site,
and considers several Latin inscriptions as evidence
additional to Pliny's statements. Two of these
refer to a Roman family who must have been of
some importance in ancient Merobriga — which, by

262 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

the way, had its municipal institution, the Curia,
according to the following inscription :

C . NVMISIO C . F . FVSCO

VI . VIRO . SEN .

TATINIA Q . F .

FVLVIANILLA

VCSOR

PER MITTENTE . ORD .

MEROBRIG

To the Sextumvir Caius Numisius Fuscus, son
of Caius, his wife Sentaninia Fulvianilla, daughter
Quintus, by permission of the "Curia" of Merobriga.
No one questions the fact that the Romans
came here, for they held the whole of the Peninsula
in their power for centuries ; they certainly built
here too, for there are traces of a Roman encamp-
ment not far from the windmill outposts, and below
it in a little valley a fine Roman bridge leads over a
small stream. The bridge is going to pieces under
pressure from a sturdy old cork tree, the roots of
which are displacing the big blocks of stone with
which the bridge was built. The question is
whether S. Thiago de Cacem stands on the exact
spot on which stood Merobriga, whether the castle,
" Muri cum turribus," is that which Pliny wrote
of, or whether Merobriga vanished completely
when the Barbarians came down from the north
and swept away the old civilisation.

S. Thiago dc Caccm 263

The question remains unanswered, as it seems,
yet that need not worry hoHday-makers, for the
ruined castle that now frowns down on the narrow
streets of S. Thiago de Cacem has taken part
in many stirring events. It saw an ordered state
of affairs arise when the Barbarians settled down,
and under Ataulpho, King of the Goths, it is said
that the town enjoyed municipal rights and privi-
leges.

Musa-ben-Nosseir, with his swarms of warriors,
disembarked on the coasts of Andalusia in a.d. 712,
and nine months later the last King of the Goths
fell in battle at Guardalete. Then by degrees the
followers of the Prophet spread over the Peninsula,
and the names of many places still recall their day.
Strange to say Merobriga is mentioned by none of
the Moorish historians ; perhaps the people of that
town resigned themselves quietly to the domination
of the invaders, accommodating themselves to
everything except in matters that touched their
Faith. So of the five centuries during which the
Moorish dominion lasted here little is known, and
it is only a matter of conjecture that the name
Cacem is derived from a Moorish governor, or
Kaid, Kassem.

Recorded history begins here with the conquests
of Dom Affonso Henriques and his Christian army.
The King had promised to give the Knights

264 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Templars who assisted him one-third of all their con-
quests in the Alemtejo in 1169. Two years later
the Moorish province of Al-faghar (Algarve) was
all the Moors were able to retain west of the
Guadiana, and during this period the castle of
Cacem was captured by the Templars. But they
could not hold it for long. Yussuf Abu Yacub,
Amir of Morocco, returned to the Alemtejo in the
same year, and again in 1184, so Cacem became
Moorish once more. Then the Alemtejo and Algarve
became the scene of desperate struggles between
Christians and Pagans, who disputed every foot of
ground, until Dom Sancho I. was at last enabled
to give this town and castle to the order of Sant'
lago, whose warrior priests had taken possession.
But five years later, in 1191, Al-Manssor's success-
ful invasion not only brought the Alemtejo under
Moorish rule again, but also deprived Sancho of
much which he had inherited from his father. Not
till the reign of Affonso III., at the beginning of
the thirteenth century, was the Alemtejo reunited
to the kingdom of Portugal, and the blue cross of
the Burgundian dynasty replaced the crescent on the
high towers of S. Thiago de Cacem.

It is not right to contradict a lady, but history
does so in the case of Bata9a, for she laid claim to
the conquest of S. Thiago de Cacem. Perhaps,
however, she was guildess and historians are at

Batata 265

fault (history was not always an exact science).
They, at all events, mostly remain unknown, while
Batata's name still lives.

Batata was a widow, and travelled in search of
distraction. Like other widows since her time, she
interested herself in other people's concerns, and
also got others to take an interest in hers. Of
these, Rezende the historian was one. He lived
about three centuries after her, yet his devotion led
him to believe in her thoroughly. It is he who
supports her claim to S. Thiago de Cacem, dis-
regarding dates and such-like historical impediments
to the growth of legend. Of course she was a
lady of good family, exalted family in fact, for she
was connected with the Comneni, who sat upon the
throne of old Byzant. She went farther, and even
pretended to that throne ; and as her claims met
with no consideration at home, she and her sisters
Yolanta and Beatrice set out upon their travels.
They arrived at the Court of Aragon, and Bataga
laid her case before King Pedro. That gallant
monarch could think of no practical means by which
he could assist Bataga in her pretensions ; how-
ever, he did the best in his power by supplying
her sisters each with a very desirable husband.
This was of little use to Widow Batata, so she
offered herself as chaperone to Dom Pedro's
daughter Isabel when that lady went to Portugal
14

266 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

to marry Dom Diniz, king of that country. She
spent some time at the Portuguese Court, and then
accompanied Dona Constanta, who went off to
Castile to marry Dom Fernando IV. But Queen
Constan9a died, and as the Court of Castile got
tired of the widow, she took a handful of fighting
men and embarked for Portugal. A storm obliged
her to land at Sines, where her band of followers
was increased by some knights of Sant' lago, and
with this devoted band she stormed and seized the
castle called Cacem.

Rezende, the devoted historian, had gone very
far wrong in his dates, however, for the Lady
Bata9a came to Portugal during the reign of King
Denis, between 1279 and 1325, says Frei Francisco
Brandao, the chronicler of that time, whereas the
Moors had been driven from the Algarve in 1249.

Bata9a's pretensions to the throne of Constantine
were brought to naught by the Latins, who had
taken Constantinople during the fourth crusade, and
were little disposed to give it up again. However, it
is pleasant to reflect that Bata9a managed to " put by
a little bit " ; she lived on the revenues of S. Thiago
de Cacem and other little possessions at Coimbra,
bequeathing all her worldly goods to that city when
she died, in 1336. Rezende says that she rebuilt
the church of Sant' lago Maior at Cacem, and there
appears to be no reason to doubt this statement.

S. Thiago de Caccm 267

S. Thiago de Cacem then lived a peaceful exist-
ence, governed by a self-elected municipality, gaining
in importance ; it acted wisely in sending one Joao
Lourengo to Coimbra when, in 1385, the Cortes,
speaking for the Portuguese nation, called Dom
Joao to the throne as first King of that name.

Troubled times came to the ancient town when
the armies of France invaded Portugal, but the men
of S. Thiago de Cacem rose to the occasion, as is
shown by the correspondence between the city
fathers and the authorities of other places. Among
this correspondence are two peculiarly dignified
letters, addressed to the commanders of British
men - of- war, which hovered about the coast of
Portugal.

A translation of the letters is here given :

" Friends and Commanders of the
English Squadron,

" True friendship ever results in most invin-
cible union. The Portuguese nation, which has
always been fond of you, finds itself to-day reduced
to such extremes that all Portuguese are up in
arms against the enemy, who, though reduced in
numbers, is crafty and deceitful. We ask your
help, which you may send safely by the port of
Sines ; you will find it freely open to you. Assist
us with arms and soldiers, for the French deprive

268 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

us of both. The bearer of this is Alberto Magno
de Assis, who will tell you what are our sentiments,
what our needs."

This was signed by the President of the Chamber,
Francisco Onofre de Faria, and all the councillors
and other members of the municipality.

Other letters refer to the assistance given by
Great Britain, the gun-running in which His Britannic
Majesty's ships were frequently engaged. The
commander of one of these ships, a frigate which
had found her way into Sines harbour, received
the following letter from the municipality of S. Thiago
de Cacem :

'• Friend and Milord Commander of the
English Frigate,

" The benefits we have received always give
rise to the sincerest demonstrations of our grateful
hearts. The proof of friendship which your admiral
has given to this portion of the Portuguese people
is a memorable cause of gratitude for us and for
those that come after us. That generous deed
obliges us to call in person, through the means of
a deputation, in order to thank you, and in you the
whole British nation, for the relief your services
have brought us."

*&'

Those troublous times are happily over, and

269

S. Thiago de Cacem 271

S. Thiago pursues the even tenor of its way, while
the ancient castle looks down into the narrow streets
and over the fair country. There is the line of
windmill outposts, on rising ground which runs from
east to south in rolling folds ; the broad fields are
under cultivation, the valleys densely wooded. To
westward the country drops down towards the sea ;
a large sheet of water gleams through the pine
trees that dot the country down to the sands — this
is a large lagoon which varies in size according to
the tides. Fish is very plentiful in this lagoon, and
the reeds along its shore shelter many wild birds.
A sportsman out shooting one day in 1820 brought
down a large white eagle, which had a silver ring,
engraved " Ludovic Napoleon, Juin 1815," on one
leg. But the wild birds are getting rarer, for man
is making the lagoon useful ; it is being drained by
degrees, and rice grows on the reclaimed land.

The broad white road leads on westward, past
stately quintas embowered among olive and orange
trees, overtopped by pines and eucalyptus, through
cork forests, or by the cottages of those who till
the fields. The sea encroaches gently on the coast,
leaving a point of land, rocks, and sand standing
out into the ocean. This is the Cape of Sines, and
the town and harbour of that name lie immediately
to southward of it.

Sines is most favourably situated ; the town stands

272 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

on a rocky amphitheatre enclosing a small bay. A
spit of rock points from the end of the cape to
southward as protection against the heavy Atlantic
swell. The crest of this high breakwater has a stone
parapet, and from here you have a lovely view of
Sines and its harbour. Immediately below is a tiny
inner harbour, where fishing-boats are made fast to a
short pier. The waters swing gently in the shadow
of the high breakwater, deep purple, blue, and green ;
beyond, in the sunlight, the intense blue of the sky
is reflected in the sea, but broken by myriads of
sparkling facets, or tips of foam that lap about an
exposed rock or two, or creep over the curving
expanse of golden sand. Thence rises a rocky slope,
covered with dark-green scrub, with here and there a
patch of red earth. A rted-roofed cottage or two has
left the precincts of the town to get a nearer view of
the sea ; graceful palm trees break the straight line
of terrace connecting the town of Sines with its cape.
Red-roofed houses, white, ochre, or pink, group
round the church and the old castle, with its round
towers and grey battlements.

One of the little houses that face the sea, though
very humble, rises above its neighbours in historic
import, for here Vasco da Gama was born. Possibly
the little house has been reconstructed since those
days, but the lower part of the structure certainly
remains untouched, and its stones dream of the great

Sines 273

past. They may have known the days of Bata9a,
who, it is said, built that quaint white church, which
stands a little apart, but in full view of the sea. An
inscription on the fa9ade of this church states that
Vasco da Gama rebuilt it in 1529, but he had died as
Viceroy of India five years before that date, so his
heirs must have been responsible for the reconstruc-
tion. Certain it is that Vasco da Gama on his way to
India, or returning home, could see this church from
his ship ; he never failed to fire a broadside as salute
when the familiar building came in sight ; hence the
name, " Nossa Senhora das Salvas."

Sines is connected with the outer world, to sea-
ward, by a weekly service of small steamers, so its
produce — fish and cork-wood — can find an outlet. By
land there is nothing but the diligence for travellers
who cannot afford a motor-car along the high-road.
Sines would make an ideal winter resort, and under any
other European government would have grown in im-
portance. But owing to the primitive land communi-
cations, Sines, with its lovely climate and delightful
sands, remains unknown to the traveller ; so does
picturesque Alcacer do Sal, and S. Thiago, with its
interesting castle, its beautiful surroundings, and its
bracing air.

The people of S. Thiago de Cacem and of Sines
welcome passing travellers, and do their utmost to
make their stay pleasant ; to this the Holiday-maker

274 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

bears testimony. Those were pleasant days on the
golden sands of Sines, where pine trees come down
close to the sparkling sea, and the lazy waters of the
bay reflect the blue sky of Portugal. Full of delight
were the hours spent among the wooded hills of
S. Thiago de Cacem, or among the ruins of its
historic castle, commanding a glorious view. It was
carnival time, and of an evening tinkling mandolin
and deep-toned guitar accompanied the sentimental
songs of Lusitania, in the narrow streets, under
latticed windows.

Successive generations of bad government have
left these towns without the means of modern com-
munications, and have thus crippled their develop-
ment. The old order perished last October, making
way for a new state of affairs. The enthusiasts who
rose to power on the tide of revolution promised great
things to those towns that lie along the road from
Setubal to the Cape of Sines. But the new order
has brought no change here. Alcacer do Sal and
Grandola, S. Thiago de Cacem and Sines, have still
to content themselves with promises.

THE CASTLE OF EVORAMONTE.

275

CHAPTER XI

BARREIRO is the terminus of the Southern
Railway line, which indifferently connects the
provinces of Alemtejo and Algarve with the capital.
Both these provinces have much that is beautiful and
interesting to offer as attraction to holiday-makers.

The line runs due east for a while through level
country covered with vines, a vast vineyard, the
largest in the world, and all the property of one man,
S. Jose Maria dos Santos. Familiar Palmella is in
sight for some distance, on the right-hand side, while
away over the plains to northward the blue hills of
Estremadura merge into the sky. At Vendas Novas,
where there is an artillery school, the line bears
more to southward and enters among hills covered
with cork forests, ascending in wide curves, then
descending to Casa Branca.

Here the Holiday-maker arrived one day on a visit

to a friend whose large estates lie in the hills.

The bailiff had come down to the station, and with

courteous gesture pointed out the best conveyance,

a two-wheeled mule-cart, the sitting accommodation

277

278 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

being a large straw-stuffed sack. Attempts at con-
versation between the bailiff and the Holiday-maker
failed for two reasons. The first was ignorance of the
other's language — partial in the case of the latter,
complete in the case of the bailiff He had consulted
a colleague on the subject, and the older, more
experienced man had declared that conversation
with an Englishman ignorant of Portuguese would
certainly present some difficulties at first — but there,
" he will say a word or two in his language, you will
say a word or two in yours, and in time you will get
along famously." This might have happened but for
the second reason, to wit, the state of the road. Was
it really a road, or did the mules only pick their way
where there were fewer cork trees to impede their
deliberate progress ? The cart, springless, of course,
performed the most astounding feats — climbing rocks,
dropping with one wheel into ruts, fetching up sharp
with the other wheel against a big stone, and generally
behaving like a small boat in a choppy sea, only much
worse. The Holiday-maker might have walked, but
he made up his mind to see the new experience
through, and clung to the unsteady craft with a valour
as determined as that of any mediaeval, Moor-killing,
monkish knight.

A troubled passage down a steep incline, avoiding
cork trees with astounding skill, a plunge over rocks
into a dry water-course, and the mules came to a

Boa F^ 279

standstill before embarking on the next ascent up
a hill-side, bare of trees — but there was a track, a
distinctly visible cart-track. The tall figure of the
lord of the manor came striding down the hill, and
led the battered Holiday-maker, by a path through
the tender green of young crops, to his quinta.

The Great House of the parish of Boa Fe (" Good
Faith ") stands on the crest of a hill overlooking a
lovely landscape. The house is a long, one-storied
building, whitewashed, with a red-tiled roof, out of
which rise the wide white chimneys peculiar to
Portugal. There is a terrace before the house,
connecting it with a row of whitewashed cottages.
Women sit in the doorways, preparing food or
mendinor clothes. One or other cottag^e has a kind
of pergola, festooned with vines, to protect its inmates
from the hot rays of the midday sun. Under such
a pergola sat Senhora Maria, Madonna-faced, with
bonny children playing about her knees. The rays
of sunlight sought her through the vine leaves, and
played on the scarlet kerchief that framed her face.
Have you any idea how beautiful you looked. Dona
Maria, that sunny day in February, when you sat
before your door with your children playing about
you ?

Maria's husband holds the post of " Guarda
florestal " on the estate of Boa F^, an office which
corresponds in a measure to that of gamekeeper.

28o A Winter Holiday in Portugal

But the " Guarda florestal " has greater responsi-
bilities. He is invariably an old non-commissioned
officer of the army, and is appointed by the
Government, or rather, lent by the Government at
th^ landlord's request. He is therefore an official,
and has authority to arrest poachers, trespassers, and
other offenders. He is also able to read and write,
an accomplishment peculiar to but three or four others
of the two hundred souls who make up the population
of Boa Fe. The bailiff himself is illiterate, but few
have read deeper in the book of nature, or know more
about her kindly ways, kindlier than elsewhere here
in sunny Portugal. But accounts must be kept, and
this is done by Maria's husband, the " Guarda
florestal."

Then there was old Joachim, an elderly labourer,
whose cottage the Holiday-maker visited by invita-
tion. Joachim rose from his little stool inside the
huge Alemtejan fireplace, whence you look up through
the wide chimney to a deep-blue sky. The smoke
of a wood fire curled upwards lazily, clinging to the
stone sides until, reaching the opening, it gradually
vanished. Joachim removed his broad-brimmed hat,
requested his guest to remain covered, and greeted
him with the delightful old-world courtesy of the
Portuguese. Old Maria, Joachim's wife, brought up
another stool, placed it inside the fireplace — the place
of honour — and assisted in the conversation without

Boa F^ 281

appearing to have an eye on the many little pots and
pans grouped in the glowing embers. Scrupulous
cleanliness everywhere ; the paved floor as clean and
white as the scrubbed table, polished earthenware,
quaintly painted, and the bedroom, with its big box-
like bedstead, covered with linen coarse but spotless,
opposite which, in a little niche, stood an altar, sur-
mounted by a coloured print of the Virgin Mary
framed by a couple of candlesticks and vases holding
fair flowers.

Outhouses, stables, barns behind the quinta, and
beyond them again cork forests. The lord of the
manor took his guest through these forests on a *' tour
de propri^taire " ; up hill and down dale, under the
shade of cork trees of all ages, lacework of grey-green
foliage overhead, flickering shadows underfoot, and
between these the stems, pale grey in the upper
reaches, and warm red-brown where the cork-wood
had been peeled away. To the usual voice of the
forest was added the sound of much grunting, some
querulous, some satisfied, for a large herd of red
Alemtejan swine were out in search of food, while
the swineherd leant upon his quarter-staff and con-
templated their round sides with satisfaction. Indeed,
the pigs that fatten on the acorns of the cork tree
grow to prodigious size. The Holiday-maker once
met another herd of them at a wayside station, waiting
to be entrained in order to fulfil their destiny ; they

282 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

were so fat that the swineherd had to Hft them up by
the tail out of their recumbent position.

The path, leaving the cork forest behind, began to
mount a high hill, but had to give up the attempt
owing to dense scrub and rocks. However, it was
well worth while to continue the struggle, for a
glorious view rewarded the exertion. This height of
Sobral, over four hundred yards above sea-level,
looks down on the surrounding country, and gives a
good idea of an Alemtejo panorama ; there are
rolling hills, mostly clad in the grey-green of cork
forests, others cultivated, some covered with rock and
scrub, out of which a group of pines rises majestically.
One of the hills is crowned with a ruined castle,
Montemor, and behind it the plains fade away into
blue distance. Legend attaches to the height of
Sobral ; an oblong stone, like a fallen pillar, lies
embedded in the soil on its summit. Here, it is said,
a Moorish princess lies buried, and the bold man who
unearths her and kisses her to life again may marry
her and become possessed of enormous riches. But
though the men of the Alemtejo are bold, no doubt,
they are also capable of great contentment, and do
not hanker after wealth thus gotten ; they also seem
well satisfied with the buxom lasses of the Alemtejo,
so the Moorish princess is likely to rest under her
tombstone until the crack of doom.

It was Shrove Tuesday, the day on which, for

Boa Fe 283

many generations, the villagers of Boa F^ assembled
to dance and make merry on the terrace of the
quinta. There were great preparations in the
morning, mysterious flittings of female figures, in what
may be called the chrysalis stage of Sunday finery,
from one cottage to another. Dona Maria was too
busy with her tribe of little folk to waste time on her
personal adornment — besides, she always looked so
neat and comely that no last touch was ever needed.
Others, however, were not so easily contented with
themselves ; in the shade behind the row of cottages
sat a maiden on one of those low, bright-painted
Alemtejan chairs. She held a small mirror in her
hand, and scanned it anxiously while yet another lass,
with nimble fingers, intensely in earnest, dressed her
hair — such heavy, blue-black tresses. Then, after
lunch, the view from the terrace became animated.
From every side they came, for the cottages of Boa
Fe are widely scattered ; they came in groups from
out of the forests, appearing, disappearing, re-
appearing among the cork trees, the men with their
long quarter-staffs, the broad-brimmed hat denoting
holiday, their short jackets over their shoulders, to be
donned on reaching the terrace of the Quinta. The
lasses' heads were for the most part discreetly
covered with a becoming kerchief which yet could not
quite confine an errant lock of hair or two. Such a
delightful gathering, those slight but active, straight-

284 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

limbed men, those pleasant-faced, sunburnt lassies,
and all so neat and clean and healthy-looking. They
came up to their landlord and greeted him with
simple courtesy, then chatted with their neighbours,
picturesquely grouped. The village carpenter came
with his mandolin, and being a person of importance
was invited to the dining-room, which opens on to the
terrace, to take a glass of wine. Other notables were
there already — the priest, of whom more anon, the
Regedor, a kind of magistrate, "poderoso," a man of
weight, with definite views on most subjects, and huge
whiskers round his jolly face. A very silent man,
dressed entirely in black, commands respect ; he is
the local Croesus, a charcoal-burner, and can put his
hand on ;^200 any day he likes. These three, the
Priest, the Regedor, and the Charcoal-burner, are the
leading lights of intellect in the parish, for to them
reading and writing are no longer mysteries. Another
sunburnt little man, dressed in brown, black-braided,
is invited to drink wine — he is the sacristan, a serious-
minded person, as becomes his high office, but he can
unbend. After wiping his lips he produces a fife, and
a preliminary flourish brings additional animation to
the groups on the terrace. Then the carpenter tunes
up, and the fife shrilly accompanies in a quaint lilt
to which generations of Portuguese have danced and
made merry. Dancing proceeds merrily for an hour
or so, while the dignitaries watch benevolently from

INSIDE THi; KEEP OF EVORAMONTE.

285

Boa F^ 287

the dining-room windows, till the lassies group round
the sacristan, who stands ready with his fife, in a
space cleared for the fandango. This is danced by-
men only, one showing how to do it, another vis-a-vis,
who in his turn will show you how to do it better,
and so on, till one dancer is proclaimed master of the
art. The fandango is a combination of all steps
possible to a certain rhythm.

After sun-down dancing is continued in a barn,
while the notables bid their host a stately farewell
over a last glass of wine. All this time Pedro, the
servant, has been enormously busy, yet not too busy
to slip out and dance a round or two. Pedro is the
faithful, irrepressible sort of servant who figures in
novels like " Gil Bias." He is always cheerful, ready
for any amount of work, cooks well, and fancies
himself as a wit. He certainly is most amusing,
and never at a loss for some appropriate addition
to the conversation while he waits at table. So
Pedro was very busy on that day in February, yet
he danced all night, danced till the last of the
merry-makers went out of the barn into the light of
early morning.

The priest supped at the quinta that Shrove
Tuesday evening, according to time-honoured custom.
A mild-faced man of thirty, well-read, and kindly
for all his many troubles. He lives in a quaint
old farm-house, in a fold of ground among the
15

288 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

hills, and rides his grey mule to service at the
whitewashed church every morning. He farms a
little land himself, and with the proceeds and his
stipend of two shillings a day supports his aged
parents and an unmarried sister, a brother incapable
of work, and his wife and family, and also educates
a younger brother. Surely his path is not an easy
one, and recent edicts of an atheist Minister of Justice
are like to make it yet more full of thorns. To-
wards the end of supper Pedro burst into the room,
announcing one who wished to speak with the lord
of the manor. There entered a strapping lad, who
had come to ask the patrao to be witness to his
wedding with Concei^ao. " But I thought it was
to Dolores," said the patrao ; " surely you were
engaged to her ? " " True, patrao ! but still I would
rather marry Conceigao. I like her better, and the
parents of Dolores do not like me." Priest and
patrao point out the enormity of such fickleness,
while Jose the culprit remains unmoved. When all
arguments fail, and Jose has listened courteously, he
intimates that Conceigao, one of the ladies in the
case, is waiting patiently outside. Pedro is ordered
to bring her in at once, and bonny Concei9ao goes
straight up to her friend the priest, and standing
behind his chair lays a confiding hand on his
shoulder. Concei9ao says little, but admits a fond-
ness for wayward Jose, so the patrao and the priest

Evora 289

remonstrate no further, and probably by now each
has taken his respective part at the nuptials of
that handsome couple.

Casa Branca is quite an important railway junc-
tion ; all trains stop here, even the express on the
main line, before hurrying down south, past Beja
with its castle built by King Denis, the tower of
which, built of marble, is a monument to the glory
of Gothic architecture in Portugal, away to where
the Atlantic swell presses on to the Straits of
Gibraltar, passing Faro and ending at Villa Real de
Santo Antonio, by the banks of the River Guadiana,
the frontier between Portugal and Spain. A branch
line runs east from Casa Branca, curving in and
out among the hills till, leaving them to north-west,
it shows another ancient city, with walls and towers
and high spires rising out of the plain — Evora, the
capital of the district, famous in the history of
Portugal.

Evora dates far back into history — no one knows
exactly how long, or what race laid the foundations
of the city. Certain it is that the Romans had a
colony here, and, being orderly historians, they
recorded the fact ; then came the barbarians, and
history made way to legend for a while, but even
legendary lore concerning their sojourn here, on the
banks of the little river Degebe, is not forthcoming.
Of the names the Romans gave the city — Ebora,

290 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Liberalitas- Julia, the former survives, and it is inte-
resting to note that Ebor is the classic name for
this the seat of the Archbishop of the Southern
See of Portugal, as Ebor, the same name, is for that
of the Archbishopric of York.

The Goths were driven out by the Moors, who
held this strong city, calling it Yeborah, until in
1 166 the Knight Geraldo came this way. Of him
many tales are told. It is said that for some act of
violence he had lost the favour of his king, Dom
Affonso Henrique, son of Henry, Count of Burgundy
and of the Portuguese counties. He therefore did
the only thing which was sure to restore him in his
sovereign's good graces — he set out to conquer
castles and strong cities from the Moslem. As to
the means applied to that end by Geraldo at Evora,
there are various stories. One tells of a Moorish
maiden who loved Geraldo or one of his warriors —
it matters little at this distance in time — and admitted
him of an evening through a postern gate in one
of the strong towers. One evening the swain
brought a few other gentlemen with him, all armed —
it was safer in those days ; the lady opened the
gate as usual, whereupon the strangers entered and
took possession of the city. Another version has it
that outlawed Geraldo, having killed the King's
favourite in single combat, took to the mountains
with a small band of kindred spirits, whose chief he

Evora 291

became. They emerged from their hiding-place
among the hills of Montemor and marched on
Evora. Geraldo approached the walls one night,
and made a kind of ladder by inserting spears into
the interstices of the stones, climbed up and slew
the Moorish sentinel, whereupon his band followed,
and thus they captured the city. At any rate a
grateful King rewarded Geraldo by appointing him
" Alcaide mor," Governor of Evora.

A broad avenue leads from the railway station
to the town, ascending gently till, after crossing a
large open space, the Rocio, devoted to fairs, it
narrows down into a small street at the Porta do
Rocio. The public gardens are close by here, skil-
fully laid out just inside the ancient remains of the
city walls. These now serve as a terrace from which
you overlook the Rocio and the country beyond,
where a suburb is growing up, for Evora is a flourish-
ing little town. Standing out above the tree-tops on
the other side of the Rocio are numerous little round
towers, with pointed pinnacles. They are part of
a very singular building dating from the end of the
fifteenth century, and of Gothic-Norman construction.
It looks like a small castle, but is really the Hermitage
of St. Braz, and is a reminder of an epidemic of
the plague which devastated Evora in 1479.

Close to the public gardens is a large building
which shows signs of more or less recent additions

292 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

which have much interfered with its former elegance ;
this is the palace in which Dom Manoel o Fortunate
gave to Vasco da Gama the command of those little
ships which sailed round the Cape of Good Hope
and laid the foundation of Portugal's empire in
India. Leaving the gardens by the North Gate
you enter the precincts of what was formerly a large
Franciscan monastery, but all that is now left of it
is the handsome church, with its graceful porch.
This Gothic nave is in a manner reminiscent of
the Abbey of Batalha ; moreover, one of the warriors
of King John I. lies buried here, under a broad
stone in the floor — Rodrigues de Vasconcellos, who
at the battle of Aljubarrota led " the Lovers' Wing."
Added to this church is a chapel decorated throughout
with human bones. Over the doorway stands the
inscription :

N6s, ossos que aqui estamos,

Pelos vossos esperamos.

(" We whose bones lie here await yours.")

All this is the work of former Franciscan monks,
and no doubt the idea itself, so thoroughly " banal,"
is theirs too. It is certainly a likely product of the
mind diseased which seeks to serve God by declining
most of His beautiful gifts to the children of men.

There were many monasteries and convents in
Evora, but of the buildings very few remain. Such
as are left are now put to some useful purpose ; for

Evora 293

instance, the " Convento da Graga," formerly inhabit-
ed by Augustine monks, is now an infantry barrack
and military hospital. Dom Affonso de Portugal,
Cardinal Archbishop, son of Dom Manoel o Fortunato,
lies buried by the altar of this Renaissance church
*' da Graga."

The life of Evora centres round the Praga de
Geraldo, an oblong open space with a church looking
down its entire length, and an ugly fountain in the
middle. This unpleasant feature is redeemed by
two arcades which support the old overhanging
houses, on one side of the Praga : here Evora
does its shopping. Possibly there are still some
windows in that arcaded row of houses which looked
down wonderingly at the sound of hammering early
on the 20th day of June, 1488. A scaffold arose,
troops marched on to surround it and keep back
the interested populace, while others escorted the
third Duke of Bragan^a to pay with his head for
having risen against his King.

The Rua de Sellaria, a quaint, narrow street,
leaves the "Geraldo" and leads, on the riofht-hand
side, towards the rising ground where the historic
interest of the city chiefly centres. The ancient
keep was here, the keep which Geraldo sem Pavor
(" without fear ") stormed sword in hand with his small
band of outlaws. The Romans held this formidable
stronghold ; the tower of Sertorius, the Roman

294 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

general, and an aqueduct likewise named after him,
speak of their day. Geraldo, on driving out the
Moors, became governor, and also Master of an
order of knighthood instituted by Dom Afifonso
Henriques, and called " Cavallaria de Evora." It is
pleasant to reflect that Geraldo and his brigands
submitted to the strict rules of St. Bento, ordered
their lives according to the statutes of the Cistercians,
and therefore must have died in the odour of
sanctity. The palatial buildings that enclose the
little Pra^a de S. Miguel, now dilapidated, housed
the valiant knights ; they performed their devotions
in the neglected hermitage chapel dedicated to the
saint. The palace became the property of the
Counts of Basto, and is a fine specimen of a
nobleman's fortified town house, looming over the
street below.

Dom Sancho I. removed the knights from Evora,
granting them permission to acquire a suitable site
for a new castle. They had wandered about Portugal
without result for some time, when they halted
near Portalegre one day and idly watched two eagles
soaring over a rocky height — this they took as an
omen, built their castle, and named themselves Knights
of the Order of Aviz.

The rules of this order were very strict ; they
eschewed all luxury, wore a black cape and scapula
over the plainest clothing, and allowed no gold

The Order of Aviz 297

to glitter on armour, sword, or spurs. They rose
betimes in the morning and attended mass and
orisons, fasted on Fridays, kept silence, and generally
behaved with monkish decorum, except when fighting
the Moors, which probably made a pleasant change.
They were trained to becoming modesty in times
of peace ; so when a Knight of Aviz, going on his
way, met a monk of some other holy order, he
dismounted, and having received the monk's blessing
would accompany him on his way, which must have
led to edifying converse. Again, should a member
of any religious order pass by a castle of the
Knights of Aviz, the governor would hand over the
keys to the itinerant monk and take all commands
from him. All this was very beautiful, and it happened
long ago.

The most interesting part of Evora is that which
lies about the cathedral. Two ancient fanes, one
ruined, the other still serving its original purpose,
stand near each other, and each bears testimony
to a Faith which has inspired noble works. The
cathedral dates back to the twelfth century ; its facade
speaks of the stern simplicity of those days, but
the interior has suffered much by attempted improve-
ments during many generations, and the lavish display
of ornaments detracts from the beauty of the Gothic
pillars, hewn out of Portuguese marble, from the
quarries of Montes Claros, the Serra d'Ossa, Villa

298 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

Vi<;osa and Borba. Infinitely more beautiful is the
other fane, a Roman temple, said to have been
dedicated to Diana. The learned maintain that
this cannot be, as fluted pillars were never used to
support the temple of a goddess — they were only
allowed smooth columns ; but it is agreed that this
shrine much resembles the temple of Antoninus
and Faustina in Rome, and dates from the same
period. The long roof of the archbishop's palace,
sheltering a very interesting library, seems to connect
the Temple with the Cathedral ; but a passing
reflection, while it shows the former in all the
serenity of its ancient worship, throws an ugly
shadow on the latter — close by, half hidden by the
flowering shrubs and peaceful palm trees of a pretty
garden, stands the Palace of the Inquisitions. It
is now a private house, but the chapel, the hall
where that sinister body held its court, and the
dungeons, remain. The Holy Office at Evora con-
demned to death no less than 20,000 men and
women.

Of other events which added to Evora's historic
importance mention should be made of several
meetings of the Cortes here. Dom Duarte assembled
it here in order to raise funds for the ill-fated
expedition to Tangiers ; the Cortes met again in
1 48 1 and 1490 under Dom Joao II. The former
meeting preceded his struggle with unruly nobles ;

Evora 299

the latter approved the match between Dom Afifonso
and Isabella, daughter of the King of Spain. By
this alliance Dom Joao hoped to join the sceptres
of both countries in the hands of his son, but Afifonso
died before his father. Dom Manoel I. carried on
the tradition — he also failed ; and when by the death
of Cardinal Dom Henrique, who installed the Jesuits
in Evora, the house of Aviz died out and a Spaniard
ruled over both countries, the people of Portugal,
of Evora in particular, became thoroughly dissatisfied.
The city took the first step in the insurrection which
freed Portugal from Spain in the seventeenth century,
and suffered accordingly, for Don Juan of Austria
subjected the town anew in 1658 ; and not till the
victory of Ameixoeira in 1663 did Evora become
Portuguese again. Serious trouble came up out of
Spain when in 1808 Loizon stormed Evora, after
meeting with desperate resistance, and then left it to
the mercies of a victorious French army. The last
of troubled times came with the strife between Dom
Pedro and Dom Miguel, the rival sons of weak
King John VI., with whose Queen, Carlota Joaquina,
and some of her little peculiarities, we are familiar.
After much useless fighting the struggle ended, and
Dom Miguel left Portugal after signing what is
called the Treaty of Evoramonte.

Evoramonte is not far from Evora, and is of
peculiar interest. It is a huge old castle, standing

300 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

on a hill, the crumbling walls containing only a few
houses of what was once a flourishing little town.
An inscription over the main gate says that the
castle was built by the order of the most noble
Senhor, Dom Diniz, King of Portugal and the
Algarve, given on the 14th day of January, 1344,
by which time that excellent monarch had been
buried some nineteen years. The slight inaccuracy
of the inscription in no way detracts from the stately
beauty of ruined Evoramonte. Little whitewashed
houses cluster round the old keep, which is of
massive strength despite its age and varied experi-
ences, and shows, moreover, some traces of genial
ornamentation here and there. The vaulted interior
of the keep is particularly interesting, with its squat
fluted pillars, and glimpses of the glorious panorama
through narrow windows. From the Porta do Sol,
so called because the rising sun first sheds its rays
through this gate before searching out the many
nooks and crannies of this ruined pile, a grand
view lies at your feet. Far away to eastward is
Estremoz, commanded by the tower of Affonso III.,
and the palace where King Denis lived, and in
which the sainted Isabel, his wife, died in 1336.

Farther to eastward, in the valley beyond the
heights on which stands Estremoz, flows the River
Borba, through vineyards, past marble quarries, to
join the Guadiana.

^

\/H^

301

Villa Vi^osa 3^3

Close by Borba, and some distance from the little
river of that name, is yet another ancient township,
enclosed by walls, Villa Vi90sa. A royal palace
stands here neglected, the property of the House
of Braganga since it was built in 1501. Here that
gallant King Dom Carlos and his eldest son Dom Luiz
Filipe slept, after a day's shooting in the neighbour-
ing forests, on the night of January 31st, 1908. By
evening of the next day they had been foully
murdered in Lisbon, the capital of the kingdom.

CHAPTER XII

'nniME flies fast during a holiday, especially in
Portugal, with its manifold interests, and the
end of the holiday comes as a painful surprise in
this land of leisure. It came, and the Holiday-maker
had to pack up his painting-things and prepare for
departure. The route lay to northward, and there
were yet many places of interest to visit, so the
Holiday-maker again left the Rocio Station one
afternoon. The train was a pleasant change from
the ordinary ones — it ran smoothly, stopped seldom,
and carried a dining-car ; but then this was really
an express, and in the habit of carrying on the
important communications between Portugal's only
large towns, Lisbon and Oporto. The line ran
through country already visited, for a while, along
the Tagus as far as Entroncamento, then sharply
to northward past Payalvo, the station for Thomar.
Night closed in upon the mountainous country
of Estramadura and hid from sight the little town
of Pombal with its castle, full of memories of one of

Portugal's greatest men. Sebastiao Jose Carvalho

304

The Marquis of Pombal 305

e Mello, Count of Peyras, Marquis of Pombal,
born in Lisbon on May T3th, 1699, spent his last
years, an exile from the Court, in Pombal. He
studied at Coimbra, whither we are now bent, and
after a term of service in the Bodyguard was his
King's envoy to London, then to Vienna. His
statesmanship won him golden opinions, and he
became imbued with the spirit of progress, thanks
to his contact with other, better-ordered countries.
When King John V. died, in 1750, the Marquis
of Pombal entered the Ministry of the young King,
Joseph L, over whom he gained enormous influence
through his ability and imposing personality. His
King's favour enabled him to inaugurate many
reforms necessary to his retrograde country ; he
ordered its finances and swept away many mal-
practices, agriculture and commerce revived under
his sway, but his chief endeavours were directed
towards freeing the people of Portugal from the
oppression of the Church and the nobility. His
name is best remembered in connection with the
extraordinary energy and resourcefulness displayed
after Lisbon had been devastated by the earthquake
of 1755. His untiring efforts to alleviate the awful
distress caused by that catastrophe brought him
high honours from his King, and, better still, the
lasting gratitude of the people of Lisbon.

It was to be expected that a strong man, such

3o6 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

as the Marquis of Pombal was, would have many
enemies ; they were mostly secret ones, and came
from among the higher nobility and the priesthood,
whose intrigues he met with vigorous measures — for
instance, by a royal decree expelling the Jesuits
from Portugal, after an attempt on the King's life.

But King Joseph I. died before his great Prime
Minister, and left the reins of government in the
hands of Maria I. The new sovereign, under the
domination of the clergy, drove the Marquis of
Pombal from his high office, even declared him
worthy of punishment, and exiled him from the
Court and from public life. So the great statesman
retired to his castle at Pombal, dating back to the
days of Gualdim Paes, they say, and died there in
May 1782.

The statue in Black Horse Square, ostensibly
erected to the memory of King Joseph I., really
commemorates the deeds of his great Prime Minister.
Of the work done by the Marquis of Pombal much
has been since undone : the Jesuits he banished re-
turned to Portugal and have only recently been again
expelled ; the effects of his educational system have
faded away, two-thirds of the people are illiterate ;
the finances of Portugal have for generations been
falling into ever greater disorder, and no improve-
ment has come with the new order of things — nor is it
likely unless the country produces one strong man,

Coimbra 307

like Pombal. Some say that Portugal has done so,
that the last Minister of Dom Carlos was such a
man. But he fell a victim to Jesuit intrigues, as
did Pombal, and must now look on, from exile, at
the disordered state of his country.

Coimbra does not lie on the main line to the
north ; you are obliged to change on to a side line
which runs round the town in a wide curve, to a
small station on the right bank of the River Mondego.
This rather annoying arrangement must surely inter-
fere with the development of Coimbra, at least to some
extent, and the hotel accommodation leaves much to
be desired. It is a pity, for Coimbra is a singularly
beautiful town, and full of romantic interest. A
broad, slow-flowing river, the Mondego, lingers here,
where the houses of Coimbra rise up on the slopes of
a hill, crowned by the building of the ancient uni-
versity. The Mondego comes down from the Serra
da Estrella, on its winding way to the sea, and enters
a broader valley just above Coimbra ; here it expands
and flows more gently between vine-clad hills, or
groves of olives. The Mondego is the Lovers' river ;
it inspired so many of those tender lays sung by
the people of Portugal ; in the shady groves by its
banks, generations of Lusitanian poets have poured
forth their soul in praise of Love and the Lovers'
river. Some of these singers died unknown but
left their songs in the heart of the people. Others
16

3o8 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

lived their day and became famous, enriching the
literature of Portugal. Camoes and Antonio Ferreira,
Garrett and Castilho, Anthero de Ouental, Joao de
Deus, Antonio Nobre and others, lived and loved,
and sang of their love to the whispering reeds, in
the glades, by the banks of Mondego. They lay
under the spell which legend and history have cast
upon ancient Coimbra. Descendants of Celts who
first built here, they were informed by the spirit
of that race of mystics ; the blood of warrior Goths,
strong in the Faith, accounts for the boldness of
their utterance, their language with its sonorous
rhythm, an heritage of Romans, polished by the
Moors' sesthetic taste.

The history of Coimbra emerged from the mists
of earliest days, when Moors and Christians fought
for supremacy, and Coimbra was subject to one or
the other from the day when Dom Affonso the Great,
King of Leon, temporarily gained it, until Dom
Affonso VI. of Leon definitely conquered it in 1085,
and gave it its first charter. Then Coimbra was
given to the Count of Burgundy and became for
many years the outpost of the country of Portugal
against the Moors. Many Kings of Portugal were
born here, many lie buried here, scions of the House
of Burgundy. So Dom Affonso Henriques and
Sancho L rest in the church of Santa Cruz, with
its fine Gothic Chancel, and paintings in the nave

Coimbra 309

attributed to Grao Vasco. There was a " Trans-
figuration " by Raphael, and an " Adoration " by-
Rubens here, but the French stole these pictures
in 1810.

The old cathedral, the finest specimen of
romanesque architecture in the country, stands out
sternly like an ancient stronghold, and so it was ; a
stronghold of the Faith, begun in the twelfth century,
while Cross and Crescent were struggling for the
mastery within earshot of the deep-toned bells. A
sarcophagus stands out of the wall to the right of
the main entrance ; here lies D. Sisenando, first
governor of Coimbra after its conquest from the
Moors in 1066. Dom Joao I. was crowned in this
cathedral, after the Cortes held at Coimbra had
proclaimed him King in 1335. But now the old
cathedral stands deserted since the Marquis of
Pombal drove out the Jesuits, and their church, a
peculiarly ugly building, usurped its functions.

Coimbra has other memories of Kings and their
doings. The wife of Dom Diniz, Isabel of Aragon,
called the Saint, lived here and comforted the poor.
Here it was that her husband caught her distributing
alms to a number of mendicants — against his express
wish, it appears. He asked her what she carried in
her basket ; she answered " Roses," which was strictly
untrue. However, by a kindly miracle the coins had
been changed into roses, and the story served as an

310 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

additional reason for her canonisation. Queen Isabel
founded the convent of Santa Clara, down on the
left bank of the river ; she was buried there, but
the floods so damaged the ancient building that the
convent had to be moved to a neighbouring height,
whither St. Isabel's tomb was also conveyed with
all due pomp and ceremony.

St. Isabel of Portugal still commands the reverence
of the people of Coimbra (unless the Republic has
decreed that it should cease), but another lady's
memory has yet a stronger hold on popular fancy.

The grandson of the sainted Isabel, Pedro, after-
wards first King of that name, loved a fair lady,
Dona Ignez de Castro — loved her with all the
force of his passionate nature — and Dona Ignez
loved him too. Dona Ignez had come from Spain
in the train of Dom Pedro's wife. Dona Con-
stanta, daughter of the Duke of Penafiel. Dona
Constan9a died, leaving two children, and Dom
Pedro was minded to marry Dona Ignez. Dom
Affonso IV., the King, Dom Pedro's father, objected
strongly to this match, but was quite unable to stem
the tide of passion. The lovers were wont to meet
in the garden of a house not far from the convent
of Santa Clara, the Quinta das Lagrimas ('* of tears "),
wherq is the Fountain of Love, fed by a little
stream which is said to have carried Dom Pedro's
love-letters to Dona Ignez. The lady sat by the

LISBON, ST. GEORGE S CEMETERY.

3"

Coimbra 3 1 3

fountain in the shade of the cedars and orange trees
and watched the small stream for some token from
her royal lover. But there came into this lovers'
paradise stealthy assassins, who killed gentle Ignez
by the King's command.

Then a heavy cloud settled on the brow of Dom
Pedro and never left it. Men called him " the
Cruel " when he succeeded to his father, and he
deserved the epithet. As soon as he ascended the
throne he took terrible vengeance on the murderers
of Dona Ignez. He had them brought before him
bound, cut them open with his own hand, tore out
the heart of each one and bit into it savagely.
Then he had Dona Ignez exhumed and placed
upon the throne, before which his courtiers were
commanded to pay homage, kissing the dead hand.
Even then this sombre king's passion for revenge
was not sated ; he travelled throughout his country
administering stern justice, executing malefactors with
his own hand.

We have seen the tombs at Alcoba9a, where
Dom Pedro I. and Ignez de Castro are waiting to
look into each other's eyes " when the trumpet
shall sound."

Coimbra is now the centre of Portugal's intellec-
tual life, or so it considers itself, and possibly for
sufficient reasons. It boasts an ancient seat of
learning, established by King Denis in 1290, and

314 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

there Portugal's great statesmen, historians, poets,
were trained for their divers missions in life. An
electric tramway leads from the Largo Principe
Dom Carlos (now possibly called after some hero of
the recent revolution), round the hill against which
the city is built, and rises gently towards the summit.
But a shorter, though steeper, way leads under the
Arco d'Almeidina, a relic of Moorish days, through
narrow streets with quaint old-world houses, to the
university buildings. These buildings surround a
large square, entered by the Porta Ferrea, dating
from the days of the Spanish dominion over Por-
tugal. The buildings are of no great interest, but
the library, a temple-like building with fine wood-
carving, is well worthy of closer attention. Here
are volumes, manuscripts, parchments, containing
the wisdom of former generations in crabbed hand-
writing or lustrous illumination. All these have no
doubt contributed largely to the erudition of those
sons of Lusitania who came here to become learned.
There are many books, more modest and business-
like in appearance, which the youth of Portugal
now turns to in order to qualify for the battle of
life, or perhaps merely to swell the ranks of an
intellectual proletariat.

Nowadays Mephistopheles does not come up to
advise young students as to which of the many
faculties they should devote themselves to. He did

Coimbra 3 1 5

so once, according to Goethe, and may have done
so again, but the Republic has no doubt abolished
Mephistopheles (though he has not been expressly
mentioned in the law concerning the separation of
Church and State), yet the number of law students
has not diminished. The faculty of medicine is
increasing, and their laboratories and other excellent
arrangements for the pursuit of the science of heal-
ing should turn out useful medical men, under the
tuition of an able staff, for the Republic has not yet
abolished any disease — not even megalomania.

The professors of different branches of learning
are distinguished, when in full dress, by the different
colours of a ** panache " which crowns the silk
bonnet worn on State occasions. These colours are
well chosen ; what is more suited to theology than
white, for instance, or for philosophy, blue, the
colour of hope ? — for even a philosopher should hope
that his speculations may lead to some result. The
students go bareheaded and wear a black gown,
much like that of their colleagues of Oxford and
Cambridge, though not so short.

Perhaps it is the gown which here and there
leads to trouble with the townsfolk ; a regular
" town-and-gown row" is no unusual occurrence at
Coimbra, and both parties thoroughly enjoy this form
of relaxation. A student of law imparted to the
Holiday-maker the real, original reason for the enmity

3i6 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

between the two factions ; it appears that the
students find favour in the sight of the fair ladies of
Coimbra, leaving even the military element a "poor
second," and so the flashing of " beaux yeux " dis-
turbed the peace of the city for many centuries.
Of late politics have added fuel to the flames, and
recent events have given rise to serious disagreement
between " Town and Gown." It appears, from the
students' point of view, that the Minister of the
Interior, elected by the Republican Party at Lisbon,
had promised to institute a Faculty of Law in the
country's capital. This was greeted with great
rejoicings by the students, many of whom welcomed
a chance of spending some pleasant years in Lisbon.
The students formed a Republican association among
themselves, and elected the Minister as honorary
member of the committee. The town looked with
disfavour on a scheme which would remove so many
students, and thus bring economic loss. This was
brought to the notice of the Minister, who promptly
changed his mind, and declared to the Coimbra
Chamber of Commerce that he would never consent
to the measure with which the university had
credited him. This led to considerable rioting, with
interference by the military. The students' Repub-
lican association met in noisy conference, and erased
the Minister's name from the roll of members ; they
also disbanded the volunteer battalion, formed, like

Coimbra 3 1 7

others in Republican centres, directly after the
revolution. It is difficult to gauge the value of
these armed bands ; they do not fit into any
strategical scheme for the defence of Portugal, and
as tactical units they would be rather a hindrance
to the regular troops, owing to their lack of train-
ing. But they are very patriotic, and wave red-and-
green flags to the accompaniment of the new
National Anthem ; they also wear uniform on Sundays,
to their own great satisfaction.

It is only charitable to suppose that the action of
this academic Republican association was inspired
only by a youthful "sporting instinct"; if it were
otherwise, it would show in an unfavourable light
a system of education which leads individuals and
associations to place their own smaller interests before
the wider ones of national considerations.

Still the general aspect of Coimbra is one of
academic repose as it broods over past days, days
of serious trouble for the city when Massena's army
marched through the streets, and the neighbouring
wooded heights rang with musketry as the French
pursued the fugitive citizens and shot them down.
But even then Napoleon's power was breaking.
From Coimbra a broad road leads north-east along a
ridge of mountains to a place famous in history,
Bussaco. The usual way to get there nowadays is
by train to Pampilhosa, and thence, by a line that

31 8 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

leads into Spain, to Luso, the station for Bussaco.
From Luso a broad road leads up into the mountains
and through a gate into the forest of Bussaco.
History has been busy here, in this favoured spot.
Of course the Romans found it out and built a
stronghold ; then, in the eighth century a small monas-
tery arose on what is now the height of Cruz Alta.
The monastery was frequently sacked by the Moors,
according to their wont, and was finally established
on its present site in 1268. In the meantime the
forest, the Bosque Sacro, had grown up, sheltering
the new monastic buildings ; it was enclosed by walls
at an early date and, owing to its sacred character, met
with much consideration. Two Popes, Gregory XV.
in 1622, and Urban VIII. in 1645, issued a Bull
excommunicating him who dared to harm a tree of
the Sacred Forest. The trees of the forest grew up
undisturbed and welcomed strangers of their kind
from Portugal's over-seas dominions, so that now the
forest shows the finest specimens of indigenous and
exotic growth — oak and beech, pines and cork trees,
and here and there groups of giant cedars. The
Carmelites occupied the convent from the eighteenth
century until the suppression of religious orders in
1834, and they welcomed the Duke of Wellington
when he came to meet Massena in battle on " Bussaco's
iron ridge."

The old convent with its small cloisters, its still

Bussaco 3 1 9

smaller cells, in one of which Wellington passed that
September night of 1810, is now almost eclipsed by
a palatial hotel, built in the best modern render-
ing of the Manueline style, and decorated with azuleja
by modern Portuguese artists, foremost amongst
them Jorge Cola^o. As far as the Holiday-maker's
experience goes, the hotel is the most comfort-
able in all Portugal. It is a good place to be in
amidst the glorious forest of Bussaco, but the stern
country beyond the enclosing walls recalls the fierce
strife which tortured unhappy Lusitania when the
eagles of France passed this way. There is the
rocky ridge where only gorse finds sufficient en-
couragement to grow; there is the deep valley whence
Massena's battalions surged up to break against
the determined line of red-coated British infantry
and Portuguese Cagadores in their brown uniforms.
Recalling that 27th day of September, the heights
and valleys seem uncannily peaceful. The Serra
de Bussaco drops in a series of gentle hills, each
showing a little more vegetation than its higher
neighbour, down towards the sea, and the clouds
which come up out of the west cast their shadow on
the sides of the mountains, as they hurry to cling
round the Serra da Estrella.

The voice of the sea comes as a reminder that a
holiday does not last for ever, and that big ships

320 A Winter Holiday in Portugal

do not wait for peripatetic artists. So the Holiday-
maker had to hurry northwards, past Aveiro in midst
of its marshes and dykes, back to Oporto, and then,
by the river, down to the sea at Leixoes.

Again the big ship^ passes along the coast of
Portugal, as if in a lingering farewell to Lusitania,
to that lovely country, with its rocky coast, its forests
and broad fields, mountains and plains, and above all
its courteous, lovable people.

The rugged coast-line vanishes, and the big ship
ploughs up the waters of the Bay of Biscay, so
frequently maligned — for though the Holiday-maker
has often crossed it, he has only once seen it really
rough.

A few days more at sea, and the coast of England
rises out of the sea — Land's End, and later, the Welsh
mountains, and tucked away at their feet the new,
busy harbour of Fishguard.

Then the last, shortest, stage of the holiday — a
fast special train which hurries at sixty miles an hour
through lovely Welsh scenery, past busy towns, then
across the broad fields of Western England, the
pastures of Berkshire, crossing the Thames again and
again until it draws up breathless at Paddington Station.

Then the Holiday-maker returns to his seclusion ;
but there remain with him memories of "green days
in forests, and blue days at sea."

' See Index, Booth S.S. Co.

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INDEX

Abou Jousouf, 169

Affonso I., Dom, King of Portugal
(1112-1185), 17, 40. 43, 63, 71,
74, 105, 131, 132, 167, 190, 206,
207, 214, 263, 290, 294, 308

— II., Dom, King of Portugal
(1211-1223), 210, 256

— III., Dom, King of Portugal
(1248-1269), 64, 105, 204, 210,
211, 214, 264, 300

— IV., Dom, King of Portugal
{1325-1357), 72, 105, 211, 310

v., Dom, King of Portugal
(1438-1481). 135, 136, 137. 138,
164, 185, 201, 219, 220

— VI., Dom, King of Portugal
(1656-1683), 118, 154, 157

— de Portugal, Cardinal, 293

— VI., King of Leon, 16, 40, 308

— VI., King of Castile, 131, 167
Africa, 106, 107, 134, 135, 137, 142,

144, 152, 188, 205
Alanni, 13, 60, 131
Albuquerque, Affonso, Duke of, 70,

147, 164

— Braz, his son, 70, 164
Alcacer do Sal, 188, 254, 255, 256,

273. 274
Alcoa, river, 209, 211
Alcoba9a, 142, 177, 183, 206, 209,

210, 212, 215, 313
Alemtejo, 18, 154, 235, 256, 251,

253, 264, 277, 282
Alemquer, Duke of, 240
Alfarrobeira, 138, 164
Alfeite, 59, 230-235
Alfonso XIII., King of Spain, 100
Algarve, 18, 105, 188, 235, 264,

277. 300
Alhandra, 164
Aljubarrota, 132
Almada, 59, 225, 227
Almanssor of Cordova, 44, 256, 264
Almeida, Dom Franciscode, 144, 147
Almourol, 188
Alter, 85

Alto de S. Joao, 94, 95
Alverca. See Alfarrobeira
Alvidrar, Pedra de, 128
Alviella, river, 164
Amelia, Dona, 90, 91, 242
Amory, King of Jerusalem, 175
Andeiro, Count of, 73, 133
Antonio, Padre, 195, 196. 200
Arabs, 63

Arnoud, Abbey of St., 22
Arrabida. See Serra d'
Arrosa Bay, 27
Astvurias, 15, 16, 63

Ataulpho, King of Goths, 263
Austria, Don Juan of, 299
Azambuja, 164
Azeitao, 154, 239

Ba9a, river, 209

Bacalhoa, 239

Badajoz, 167, 248

Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, 177

Barreiro, 59, 235,j236, 245, 277

Barroso, Christovao, 149

Bataga, 264-266, 273

Batalha, 117, 215-222, 292

Beatrize, daughter of Fernando I. ,105

Beja, 289

Belem, 49, 100, 102, no, 117, 226

Belgrade, 53

Bemfica, 161

Beresford, Marshal, 157

Boa Fe, 279-288

Bocca do Inferno, 48, 126

Booth S.S. Co. (noted for its ex

cellent service to Portugal), 46
Borba, 298, 303
Bragan9a, House of, 57, 303

— Hotel, 54, 56-58
BrazU, loi, 144, 161, 167
Brites, Donna, 72, 211, 240
Bugio, Torre do, 49
Burgundy, Henry, Count of, 16, 40,

131, 158, 188, 290, 308
Bussaco, 317-319
Byzant, 265

Cabral, Pedro Alvares de, 144, 167

Cabo Raso, 49

Cacem, S. Thiago de, 188, 254-

271, 273, 274
Cacilhas, 59, 225, 230-231
Cadaval, Duke of, 154
Caldas da Rainha, 203, 205
Calicut, 84, 116
Caminha, 30
Camoes, Luiz de, 83, 108-12 1, 185,

308
Campolide, 161, 162
Canary Islands, 106
Cao, Diego, 107
Cape, Espichel, 47, 48, 124

— of Good Hope, 107, 116, 138, 184

— Roca, 128

— St. Vincent, 72, 107
Carcavellos, 49

Carlos, Dom, King of Portugal
(1889-1908), 75, 90, 240, 303,

307
Carlota Joaquina, wife of Dom

Joao VI., 160, 299
Carthaginians, 14

321

INDEX

Abou Jousouf, 169

Affonso I., Dom, King of Portugal
{1H2-1185), 17, 40, 43, 63, 71,
74, 105, 131, 132, 167, 190, 206,
207, 214, 263, 290, 294, 308

— II., Dom, King of Portugal
(1211-1223), 210, 256

— III., Dom, King of Portugal
(1248-1269), 64, 105, 204, 210,
211, 214, 264, 300

— IV., Dom, King of Portugal
(1325-1357), 72, 105, 211, 310

v., Dom, King of Portugal
(1438-1481), 135, 136, 137. 138,
164, 185, 201, 219, 220

— VI., Dom, King of Portugal
(1656-1683), 118, 154, 157

— de Portugal, Cardinal, 293

— VI., King of Leon, 16, 40, 308

— VI., King of Castile, 131, 167
Africa, 106, 107, 134, 135, 137, 142,

144, 152, 188, 205
Alanni, 13, 60, 131
Albuquerque, Affonso, Duke of, 70,

147, 164

— Braz, his son, 70, 164
Alcacer do Sal, 188, 254, 255, 256,

273. 274
Alcoa, river, 209, 211
Alcobafa, 142, 177, 183, 206, 209,

210, 212, 215, 313
Alemtejo, 18, 154, 235, 256, 251,

253, 264, 277, 282
Alemquer, Duke of, 240
Alfarrobeira, 138, 164
Alfeite, 59, 230-235
Alfonso XIII., King of Spain, 100
Algarve, 18, 105, 188, 235, 264,

277. 300
Alhandra, 164
Alju bar rota, 132
Almada, 59, 225, 227
Almanssor of Cordova, 44, 256, 264
Almeida, Dom Francisco de, 144, 147
Almourol, 188
Alter, 85

Alto de S. Joao, 94, 95
Alverca. See Alfarrobeira
Alvidrar, Pedra de, 128
Alviella, river, 164
Amelia, Dona, 90, 91, 242
Amory, King of Jerusalem, 175
Andeiro, Count of, 73, 133
Antonio, Padre, 195, 196, 200
Arabs, 63

Arnoud, Abbey of St., 22
Arrabida. See Serra d'
Arrosa Bay, 27
Asturias, 15, 16, 63

Ataulpho, King of Goths, 263
Austria, Don Juan of, 299
Azambuja, 164
Azeitao, 154, 239

Ba^a, river, 209

Bacalhoa, 239

Badajoz, 167, 248

Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, 177

Barreiro, 59, 235,^236, 245, 277

Barroso, Christovao, 149

Bata9a, 264-266, 273

Batalha, 117, 215-222, 292

Beatrize.daughterof Fernando I. ,105

Beja, 289

Belem, 49, 100, 102, no, 117, 226

Belgrade, 53

Bemfica, 161

Beresford, Marshal, 157

Boa Fe, 279-288

Bocca do Inferno, 48, 126

Booth S.S. Co, (noted for its ex

cellent service to Portugal), 46
Borba, 298, 303
Bragan9a, House of, 57, 303

— Hotel, 54, 56-58
Brazil, loi, 144, i6i, 167
Brites, Donna, 72, 211, 240
Bugio, Torre do, 49
Burgundy, Henry, Count of, 16, 40,

131, 158, 188, 290, 308
Bussaco, 317-319
Byzant, 265

Cabral, Pedro Alvares de, 144, 167

Cabo Raso, 49

Cacem, S. Thiago de, 188, 254-

271, 273, 274
Cacilhas, 59, 225, 230-231
Cadaval, Duke of, 154
Caldas da Rainha, 203, 205
Calicut, 84, 116
Caminha, 30
Camoes, Luiz de, 83, 108-121, 185,

308
Campolide, 161, 162
Canary Islands, 106
Cao, Diego, 107
Cape, Espichel, 47, 48, 124

— of Good Hope, 107, 116, 138, 184

— Roca, 128

— St. Vincent, 72, 107
Carcavellos, 49

Carlos, Dom, King of Portugal
(1889-1908), 75, 90, 240, 303,

307
Carlota Joaquina, wife of Dom

Joao VI., 160, 299
Carthaginians, 14

321

322

Index

Casa Branca, 251, 277, 289
Castello Melhor, Count of, 154
Castillo, Juan de, 117
Castilho, 308
Castro, Dom Alvaro de, 127

— Ignez de, 211, 310, 313

— Joao de, 161
Celts, 14, 131
Ceuta, 107

Charlemagne, 15, 16, 174, 175
Charles V., German Emperor, 147-

149
China, 177, 228

Cintra, 90, 91, 128-160, 188, 196
Clement XI., Pope, loi
Coburg, Prince Ferdinand of, 158
Cochin, 115, 144
Coimbra, 64, 105, 211, 266, 267,

305. 307-317
Cola90, Jorge, 90, 318
Collares, 128
Columbus, 148

Comnenus, Isaac Angelus, 173, 175
Constantine the Great, 173
Contucci, Andrea, 240
Cork Convent, 127, 150
Costa, S. L. de Mendonza, 162
Cyprus, 175, 179

Degebe, 289

Denis. See Diniz

Deus, Joao de, 118, 308

Dias, Bartholomeu, 84, 107, 138, 144

Dinis (Dionysius), Dom, King of

Portugal (1269-1325), 105, 132,

164, 180, 183, 214, 248, 266, 289,

300, 309
Diocletian, 71
Diu, 147
Douro, river, 43
Duarte (Edward), Dom, King of

Portugal (1433-1438), 135. 143,

183, 214, 219, 298, 313
Duarte Pacheco, 144

Edward, King of Portugal. See

Duarte
Edward VII., Kingof GreatBritain,

158
Eleanor, wife of Dom Fernando I.,

231
El Kasr-el-Kebir, 17, 152, 227
Entroncamente, 167, 304
Estoril, 49, 123, 226
Estremadura, 18, 304
Evora, 138, 255, 256, 289-299
Evoramonte, 299, 300

Faro, 289

Felicita Julia, 60

Ferdinand and Isabel of Spain, 138

Fernandez, Mattheu, 216

Fernando I., Dom, King of Portu-
gal (1367-1383), 64, 73. 105, 133,
214, 261

— Duke of Vizeu, 135, 143, 240
Fernao, Pires de Andrade, 147
Ferreira, Antonio, 308
Fielding, 59

Francis I. of France, 148, 149
Fruela I., King of Oviedo, 63
Fuas, Dom Roupinho, 205
Furtado, Affonso, 134

Gama, Estevao da, 109

— Vasco da, 49, 84, 107, 109-121,
123, 138, 144, 150, 184, 221, 271,

273
Garrett, Almeida, 226, 308
Gaunt, John of, 106, 132, 216
Geraldo, " Sem Pavor," 290, 291,

294
Goa, 84, 150
GonQalo, Travassos, 216
Gon9alves, Martin de Ma9ado, 216
— - Nunez, 75
Grandola, 254-256, 274
Guadiana, river, 264, 289, 300
Guardalete, 263
Guimaraes, 16, 40, 43, 188
Guinea, 84

Hallidei, John, 174

Harfleur, 22

Harold, King of England, 22

Havre, 21

Henriques. See Affonso I.

— Dom (Henry the Navigator),
105-108, 117, 118, 137, 153, 184,
219, 221

— Cardinal, 164, 185, 209, 299
Henry VIII., King of England, 148
Herculano, Alessandro, 118
Honfieur, 22

Ignez de Castro. See Castro
India, 84, 112, 115, 117, 127, 138,

144, 150, 153, 228, 292
Irene, Saint, 167, 169
Isabella, wife of Dom Manoel I.,

147. 149

Dom Affonso V., 136, 137,

202, 219

— — Dom Diniz, 132, 265, 300,
309. 310

Joanna of Castile, 137

Joao d'Andeiro. See Andeiro

— de Deus. See Deus

Index

323

Joao I., Dom, King of Portugal
(1383-1433), 72. 105, 106, 132-
135. 143. 164, 201, 215, 216, 221,
267, 292, 309

— II., Dom, King of Portugal
(1481-1495), 107. 108, 137, 142.
143, 219, 298, 299

— III., Dora, King of Portugal
(1521-1557), 64, 118, 149, 152,
186, 203, 220

— IV., Dom, King of Portugal,
(1640-1656), 17, 153

— v., Dom, King of Portugal
(1706-1750), 75, 100, loi, 157, 305

— VI., Dom, King of Portugal
(1816-1826), 161, 299

John I. of Castile, 105, 215

Jos6 I., Dom, King of Portugal

(1750-1777), 66, 157, 305, 306
Juliao, Torre de S., 49, 123
Junot, 196

Kambing, 84
Katherine, Queen, 118
Kilwa, 147

Knights Templars, 164, 169, 170,
175-180

Lake, Colonel, 196

Lancaster, Philippa of, 106, 132,

133, 216
Leinster, Earl of, 125
Leiria, 212-215
Leixoes, 43, 320
Leo X., Pope, 148, 157, 189
Leobriga, 40
Leonor, Donna, of Aragon, 135, 136

— Telles, wife of Dom Fernando

I- Ti, 133
Leonor, niece of Emperor
Charles V., 147, 149

— wife of Dom Joao II., 142
Leon, kingdom of, 16, 44
Leovegilde, King, 15, 71
Lima, river, 33, 34

Lisbon, 44, 46, 47, 50, 55, 60, 63-

65. 70. 72. 75. 76, 80-99, 131.
135, 160, 161, 164, 225, 228-231,
242, 251, 303-305
Liz, Hotel, 212

— river, 212

Louis XIV. of France, loi

Luchena, 248

Luiza, daughter of Dom Pedro II.,

154 .
Luiz Filipe, Dom, 75, 303
Luther, 148
Luzia, Santa, 33, 39
Luzignan, Guy de, 176

Macao, 84

Magas, Bay of, 128

Madeira, 106

Mafra, 157

Magelhan, 148

Malacca, 147

Malhao, Francisco Raphael de, 202

Manoel I., Dom, King of Portugal
(1495-1521), 49, 69, 70, 73, 108,
109, 117. 118, 145-149, 153, 159,
170, 184, 221, 292, 293, 299

— II., Dom, King of Potrugal
(1908-1910), 106, 125, 158, 240

Maria L, Queen of Portugal (1777-
1816). 306

— II., da Gloria, Queen of Portu-
gal (1826-1853), 158, 210

— Sophia, of Neuburg, loi

— de Menezes, Condessa de Monte
Santo, 142

Massena, 190, 210, 318, 319

Merobriga, 258-262

Minho, river, 30

Mombasa, 177

Mondego, river, 211, 307, 308

Monez, Martin, 74

Monserrate, Viscount, 158

Montemor, 109, 188, 248, 255

Morocco, 17, 64, 125, 169, 226

Moronha, Dom Fernando Alvares,

151. 152
Mozambique, 84, 117
Muniz, Antonio, 201
Musa-ben-Nosseir, 263

Nabao, river, 167-169
Napoleon, 18
Nazareth, 205, 206
Nemours, Marie de, 154
Nicolas v.. Pope, 136
Nobre, Antonio, 308

Obidos, 188, 189, 193-205, 212, 215
Obidos, Josepha de, 202
Olivaes, 163
Oporto, 16, 37, 43, 44, 76, 188, 304,

320
Order of A viz, 73, 105, 210, 294-297

— of Christ, 105, 107, 109, 117,
183-185

— of St. Jago, 135, 247, 248, 264
Ordonho III., King of Leon, 63
Ovar, 55, 188

Oviedo, King of, 63

Paes, Gualdim, 132, 169, 306
Palmella, 59, 188, 245-253, 277
Pampilhosa, 317
Paraizo, 164

324

Index

Payalvo, 167, 304
Pedro, Duke of Coimbra, 134-136,
138, 164

— I., Dom, King of Portugal
(1357-1367). 73. 105, 211, 227
310. 313

— II., Dom, King of Portugal
(1683-1703), 154, 157

— III., Dom, King of Portugal
(1777-1798)

— IV., Dom, Kmg of Portugal
and (I.) Emperor of Brazil (1826-
1834), 161

— v., Dom, King of Portugal
(1853-1891), 75, 231

Pena Palace, 144, 149, 153, 226
Penafiel, Duke of, 310
Pena Ventosa, 44
Philip I., Dom, King of Portugal, II.
of Spain (1581-1598), 17, 75, 152

— II., Dom, King of Portugal, III.
of Spain (1598-1621), 102

— III., Dom, King of Portugal,
IV. of Spain (1621-1640)

Phoenicians, 14, 60, 256

Pinhal Novo, 245, 254

Pinheiro, Columbano Bordallo, 90

Pliny the Younger, 40, 256, 258

Queluz-Bellas, 160
Queutal, Anthero de, 308

Rameiro, King of Galicia, 246

Real, river, 190

Reis, Carlos, 90

Recarede, King, 15, 71

Rezende, 261, 265, 266

Ribeiro, Bernadino, 151

Richard I., King of England, 175,

176, 179
Rodrigo de Menezes, loi
Rodrigues de Vasconcellos, 292
Roli9a, 196, 199

Romans, 11, 60, 131, 289, 293, 308
Roncesvalles, 15
Rouen, 24
Roumania, 53
Russia, 53

Sabugosa, Count, 91

Sado, river, 241, 251, 255

Sagres, 107

Saldanha, Marshal, 190

Sancho, Dom, King of Portugal

(1185-1211), 164,214,264,294,308
■ — II., Dom, King of Portugal

(1223-1245), 204
Sansovino, 240
Santarem, 167, 209
S. Thiago de Cacem. See Cacem

Sebastian, Sebastiao, Dom, King of
Portugal (1557-1578). 17. 64. 91.
125, 150-152, 164, 226, 227

Seixal, 231

Seneca, 40

Serra d'Arrabida, 236, 240, 251

— de Bussaco, 319

— de Cintra, 47, 49, 125, 127, 152,
226, 257

— da Estrella, 307, 319
Servia, 53

Seti Aix, 158

Setubal, 143, 239, 241, 242, 245,
251, 254

Silves, 188

Sines, 239, 254, 268-274

Sisenando, Duke of, 309

Sociedade Propaganda de Portu-
gal, 162

Sofala, 147

Suevi, 15, 44, 63, 131

Tagus, Tejo, 46, 47, 49, 122, 154,
164, 167, 225, 226, 235, 251, 304

Tangiers, 298

Taypas, 84

Terceira, island, 154

Theresa, wife of Count Henry of
Burgundy, 15, 40

— wife of Dom Pedro VI., 75
Thomar, 162, 167-186, 189, 304
Timor, 84

Torquemada, 141

Torres Vedras, 189, 190, 202

Troia, 242

Troy, 45

Turkey, 53, 141

Ulysses, 45-48, 60, 115
Urraca, 211

Vallado, 212

Varina, 55

Vasco da Gama. See Gama

Vasco, Grao, 309

Vauban, 295

Vendes Novas, 277

Venice, 142

Vianna do Castello, 33, 34, 37, 39

Vigo, 28, 29

Villa Franca de Xira, 164

Villa Vi90sa, 298, 303

Vimeiro, 196

Visigoths, 15

Wellington, Duke of, 190, 318, 319
William, Duke of Normandy, 22
William II., German Emperor, 100

Xavier, Francis de, 148
Yussuf Abu Yacub, 264

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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