bad, because the city has furnished no trade for such institutions. The people here are not diners-out. They eat at all times but sparingly; seldom in company, and almost never at any house of public entertainment. So little, indeed, is the business of hotelkeeping understood or appreciated by the Portuguese, that three-fourths of the table d'hote, which supplies the demand now produced by the war, is furnished by resident Frenchmen, or English speculators. But the appearance of the well frequented coffeehouses is lively here at night. When they are liberally lighted, and their tables all well covered, and crowded with soldiers of twenty different nations, clad in a hundred different variety of uniform. In one party, for instance, you have the Eng lish Guards, with their flaming scarlet coats and gold! and the English light dragoons, in their rich deep blue and silver! and the riflemen in their sombre green! and the heavy horse, with their long swords, huge boots, and strange cocked hats! In another circle are the Peninsular troops, in their gaudy uniforms of blue and yellow; and the Spaniards, in dresses still more glittering and fantastical; and the Lisbon Police Guards, the "crack" regiments of all Portugal; and the Lisbon volunteers! looking almost as soldierlike as the "City Light Horse" do when they are in Gray's Inn Lane. And, besides these, there are the Scots-the "Forty-twa" men! in their kilts and tartans! and the German Hussars-Hessians, Saxons, and Hanoverians-with their long pipes, and furred pelisses! and the Duke of Brunswick's" Black Cavalry," in their graceful half-mourning jackets! The general melange varied still farther by a pretty free adoption of the long blue frock-which is fashionable because the General wears it, and convenient because it makes a cornet and a colonel look alike. The whole constituting an array sufficiently brilliant of lace, and silk, and fur, and feather, cold steel, and embroidery; and involving a twist of languages still more intricate even than the jumble of costume; for, besides the divisions of our mother British into English, Scotch, and Irish accents, the Portuguese and Spaniards speak ing their own languages; and half the general company talking French, some of the foreign corps in our ser vice, as the "Chasseurs Britanniques" -the "Guides"-and some regiments of "the Legion"-contain officers, I believe, as well as privates, from every civilized country in the world. But, leaving the Coffeehouses and the river, you cross the Caiz do Soudré, and make your way, in a straight line, towards the centre of the city. To your right lies the New Town, or streets built since the great earthquake in 1756; the great object with the projector of which seems to have been, to make them as unlike the pre-existing ones as possible. In the Old City, though a mile's distance, you scarcely find six inches of level ground; in the New, the level is uniform, and so perfect, that even quicksilver might lie still upon it. In the Old City you seldom or never find two houses (together) alike; in the New, there is a mathematical sameness quite fatiguing to the eye. In several streets (of the New Town,) perhaps three quarters of a mile long, and consisting of buildings six stories high, there is not a house that, if if you happen to forget its number, you could pick out again by any distinctive mark. And, to confuse one's senses too the more, each of these streets is filled with shops belonging to some single trade. All the goldsmiths live in one. In another, all the inhabitants are mercers: So that if you do happen (as a stranger) to hit your own residence instead of going to next door, you may really esteem yourself a person especially by Providence protected. This "New Town" certainly seems, throughout, to have been built in the very ultra fury of architectural reform. Before, there had been no foot-pavements in Lisbon; here, they raised them three feet above the horse-way. Before, there were no posts in the streets; here they seem to have left posts in the way by mistake. But, passing leftwards towards the more lofty and picturesque sojourns of the old city-the quarter of St Francisco de Cidade, first rising from_the flat-above that, the streets of Boavista, and Bellavista-still higher, the Calcada and Convent do Estrella,— and, a-top of all, the Bairro, or parish of Buenos Ayres, you trace the course of the earthquake in 1756, indicated, nevertheless, (a curious consideration) by real improvements of the place. Wherever you see a street, or a row of The heights, however, of the Old Town had their gaieties on the evening of the Festival. There were the religious processions passing along in all directions. Not with the splendour which they exhibited before the French stripped the churches; but still in magnificence enough to astonish a good Protestant, who had not been used to see the thing done better. And, besides, there is an earnestness about the populace here, in all matters connected with their worship, which is one of the first things that strikes the native of any more enlightened region. You see at every hour, and in every nook and corner, in this country, an "outward and visible sign" of religious belief, quite different from anything which we are accustomed to among ourselves. Over and above the prescribed morning and evening devotions, which the ladies, (in particular,) very regularly attend, a man can't walk, even at mid-day, along the streets of Lisbon, without being twenty times in half a mile reminded of his duty. Either he passes a church, or a cross, or a begging procession, or the image of a saint; and at all of these, (bating his being a heretic) he at least bends and perhaps utters a paternoster. If a funeral goes by, every man takes off his hat. If it be the host, persons of every rank fall upon their knees-the nicest gentleman never considers his pantaloons for a moment. All these little observances and points of etiquette are prodigious safeguards to the main body of the Catholic system. Something of the same superstitious charm extends over the churches and conventical edifices. I don't know much of architecture critically; and, from what I do know, I do not like the public buildings of Lisbon. There is nothing certainly (as far as the capital is concerned) at all comparable to what we have in England. Nothing to be named in the same day with Westminster Abbey, or with Canterbury Cathedral, or York Minster, or the Cathedral at Wells, or an hundred other specimens that I might mention. But still there is, upon the whole, in spite of gaudiness and bad taste, an imposing mass enough for the senses, of turret and tower and buttress, and fretwork and spire and pinnacle; and the whole is seen under circumstances peculiarly favourable to impression. These buildings deserve less attention than ours; but they receive a great deal more. Your butcher's boy whistles, or sets his dog on to fight, with just as much nonchalance under an entrance of Westminster Abbey, as he would under one of the sheds of New gate market. We talk sometimes, in town, of a place, as being "as high as St Paul's," and now and then perhaps a city observation gets as far as "The Tower" or "The Monument." But, for anything beyond casual remark, the people of London take no more heed of their churches, and not so much, as they do of their pastry-cook shops. Now here, the habit is quite the contrary. Wherever you see a religious edifice, you find it, among all classes, an object of deep reverence and admiration. Those who know nothing, and wish to know nothing of its merits, from the bottom of their souls, nevertheless worship every stone of it. We want something, for pictorial effect,-of the old costumethough matters, in that respect, stand better than they do in England. We have not yet got, here, to booted clerks, in stiff cravats, publishing their Sunday freedom and their Cockney ignorance within walls built seven centuries before they were imagined; nor tfootmen and idle boys squabbling round the church doors in service time, with half-drunken beadles, in mountebank gowns and gingerbread laced hats. And then, if we are imperfect in the antique dressing, the old feeling we have entire! The dark grey turrets that frown upon you here, do seem to be the real turrets of history and of romance. When you see them, you see them surrounded by beings whose existence you can suppose coeval with such objects. They do carry the mind back to those days, unhappily gone by, when the world was held to be for the few, and not for the many; when there was something like career open to the aspiring and the fearless; when the man who had a hand could grasp a lance; the man who had a head put on a cowl ;-when there always was prospect, where there existed power; and where the very struggle of ambition was, of itself, a course of pleasure! There is nothing in the tone of the circumstances about you to break in upon this illusion. The people, in their opinions as in their habits, are full a century behind our countrymen. They are rude, submissive, ignorant-and have no desire to become wiser. Explain to them that these heavy piles, the very deformities of what they bow before, were raised out of the blood and the misery of millions, they would answer-that the "millions" are gone; and that it would have been so had the thing been otherwise. And sooth is, the immediate effects of this acquiescent feeling, are favourable to the comfort of the lower classes, rather than opposed to it. While they have no political freedom, and, by consequence, no security, they enjoy advantages, in practice, which would fail them under a bolder system. Heaven knows, it is a blessing where, convinced of happiness in the next world, people can afford to overlook little inconveniences in this! The peasant who defers here, as a matter of course, to his lord, with the honour which might belong to a rivalry, loses some of the molestation; and the footman, who kneels without rebuke, by the side of the noble now at church, would have to take a lower post, if it were to occur to him that he was as good a man as his master. But the gaiety of the town, in all quarters here, on the night of the Illumination, formed a striking contrast to its appearance at a late hour on ordinary occasions. There were equestrians, parading away at their high caracole pace! The horses in full action, and yet not getting over a mile of ground in an hour! Just touched constantly with the spur, and held up with a bit that admits of no disputing; and moving between a caper, and a sort of riding horse amble, all the way-raising the foot to a particular height, and then setting it down again exactly in the place from which it was taken up. A pleasant style of riding, however; and performed in a saddle padded like an easy-chair-not on a machine like our English miracle, which seems to have been originally built with every view (expressly) to people's slipping off from it-that object being subsequently facilitated by the high polish to which our servants rub its surface, and by the stirrups artfully contrived to give a man as little support as possible; unless, indeed, he should happen to be thrown, when they usually hold him fast enough.-I think, about two hundred different schemes have been tried, within my recollection, to prevent the possibility of a man's being dragged in his stirrup-the obvious one-that of making the stirrup a shoe, (so that the foot cannot by any physical possibility entangle in it,) having, of course, been disregarded. Indeed, when I spoke to Sir Thomas B once about the harness generally, and suggested the better purchase of the shoe stirrup, with the general inexpediency of putting a glossy substance, like a regulation saddle, in contact with smooth leather pantaloons, where the object was to secure adhesion; his objection to my idea of a rough covering, altogether, was that, with such an equipment, "anybody" would be able to ride! But see the magical effects of reputation! The promenade d'amour, to take a snack; whose appearance no way ruffles the general amity of the table; but all go on eating, in a kind of primitive charity with each other; and scarcely taking the trouble, so little are they used to molestation, to turn out of the way at the approach of a passenger. people here who are cowed by our high military character, and their own want of it, into considering an Englishman as the first of created beings, have left their own style of saddle and stirrup, which only wants modification, to be very sufficient, to fall into a bad imitation of our system, which, upon principle, is defective.-But, as I tell you, there were these high-pacing horsemen, in good show, on the Illumination night, about the streets; and crowds of pedestrians, (that is what they call crowds in this country, which we should call, in London, having the streets quite empty,) parties promenading, or passing, in visits, from one house to another-with the windows of the rooms all thrown up, and the blinds all thrown open, and clusters of beautiful women, and elegantly dressed, (quine gate rien,) looking out of them. A broad contrast to the show of the town, on common nights, at the same hour. Dark-silent-deserted. For of one particular nuisance, which offends you after dusk in London, here (in the streets) you have nothing. You might wander without a "how d'ye," from one end of the city to another, unless, perhaps, it came from some old woman of sixty, whose view you would not understand; or from a lady beggar, (only a beggar,) perhaps, in a lace cloak; or from some one, perchance, of the "free" dogs, who infest this famous city, in almost as great force as they are said to do at Constantinople. The French killed great numbers of these animals, while they were in possession of Lisbonrather a gratuitous act of ill nature, or police arrangement, for the creatures are harmless, and, indeed, in the way of public scavengers, meritorious. Vast armies of them are still left, who bring forth and rear their young, in the ruined houses, low cellars, and odd waste corners,-accommodations to be met with here in tolerable abundance; and feeding, during the night, (a strange association,) in company with enormous black rats, the Titans of their species, upon the offal of various character, which is cast forth from the houses; or occasionally (in the way of bonne bouche) upon the fleshly tabernacle of some late horse or mule, who, being thrown into the highways at midnight, becomes a skeleton before the first cock! a Tom-cat, perhaps, now and then dropping in, from his VOL. XV. And The domestic economy of the people, is more reserved than that of the rats; but a man hardly can acquire very sound views upon such a subject, by five days living in a country, the language of which he does not understand. An order from the commandant, is sufficient to get you into a man's house; but it takes something more than an order, to get you into his confidence. the estate of the people, just now, is not of a kind to incline them much to free association.. Setting their political danger apart, (for which the mass cares, probably, very little,) they have all enough of personal affliction, arising out of the present contest. The land pays no rent, and almost all the gentry are dependent upon the land. The stirring levy for soldiers, and the various imposts and seizures for the service of the war, are making rapid dilapidation in any little hoards that they may have by them. Then the system of "quarter," which is indispensable that alone, must be à most heavy grievance! I am going to-morrow to become the inmate of an apparently very respectable family, in which there are three daughters, (two under seventeen,) and no means of removing them. The father, as soon as I called upon him, assigned me a specific portion of his house, which amounts, of course, to a civil prohibition from entering any other part of it;and this is a common precaution;-but it does not answer the end. The fact is-and a most perplexing fact it is for the parties concerned-the men here have grown, during the war, into great disfavour with their women. Their reputation as soldiers does not stand high; and the very devil is in the sex everywhere, for being caught by the name of a huffcap! The French, while they held Lisbon, exercised their power, as you may suppose, pretty vexatiously. They plundered the inhabitants-which was much; then they reasoned against their prejudices-which was more. They robbed the people in Lisbon, and carried the booty over the water to sell Y at Casildeas; and then they robbed the people at Casildeas, and brought the booty over the water to sell in Lisbon. Beyond this, they quizzed the ignorance of the natives, and insisted upon reforming their bad habits. They swept their streets-shot their dogs-caricatured their coats-and made faces at their cookery. And yet, with all this, it is notorious that they were highly popular among the ladies. And the English, take them as a body, are not a whit worse received. In fact, how should anything stand against a gentleman, who can afford to be shot at for five and sixpence a-day? It is so soothing so never failingly flattering, even to the most delicate-minded woman, to find herself adored by the very same man who makes no secret of his contempt for all her acquaintance. Depend on it, Robert, it is a course which I have approved-wherever you go, take care to be (generally) disagreeable. Be civil to all; and-who cares to have your notice? but unbending only to one, is a compliment not to be resisted. But you may imagine (under such circumstances) the condition of the people here, when every family must entertain an Englishman, of some character or other. One man, perhaps, gets a lad-an ensign, fresh from boardinging-school. Mischievous, fearless, impudent, and unfeeling. Arrogant, in proportion to his ignorance-so, probably, very arrogant indeed. Conscious that he has not yet the figure of a man; and anxious, therefore, to shew that he has the vices of one. Conceive the annoyance (to a reasonable being) of a guest such as this in his house; who will insult himself, alarm his family, break windows and china, and be brought home regularly drunk about three o'clock every morning! Well! instead of this, suppose a host more fortunate, and give him a conciliating creature; sober, civil, about two or three and twenty, and perhaps tolerably handsome into the bargain? Why then, if he has a wife or sisters, he is driven out of his mind quite ! And the women here, I am told, (and I don't doubt it) are in raptures with all this dilemma and confusion! Anything! though it were a plague, that does but lead to novelty and bustle! Ventre St Gris! how delighted they must have been with the earthquake! I recollect a baboon once, while I was on board the Kill Devil he belonged to the purser, and used to be tied up in the cockpit. This beast got loose during a smart engagement we had with a French frigate; and while the shots were flying quicker a great deal than a sober man could have desired, and afterwards actually as we were laying the enemy on board, the brute was jumping about all over the deck, quite rampant at the uproar ! That poor man now that I am going to live with to-morrow, is torturing his soul out at this moment how to get rid of me! and his daughters are expiring to know what " kind of looking man" I am! Delighted that "somebody," at all events, is coming! I'd pawn my life of it. Their father will watch me, night and day, all the while I am at home-and they will go and try on all my pantaloons the moment I go out ! But, to the public amusements-of which you would fain hear, and of which I have yet seen nothing; for I spend all my time in dressing, and riding up one street and down another, and trying to make acquaintances. There is an Italian Opera-a fine theatre, (I have peeped into it in the daytime,) but it is not well supported, for none but the English have any means. Two inferior theatres, one for the performance of comedies, and the other a kind of circus, do better,—as I am informed. At the Opera, you hire a whole box, (you can hire no less,) by the night: into which you admit as many persons as you please, and may take your wine, if you think fit, during the evening. This arrangement is rational. I hate a public box, in which any wretch who chooses may sit by the side of you; and where, not having even the conveniences for going comfortably to sleep, you are compelled absolutely to see, and even to hear, whether you will or no. Think what an appui would a glass of Constantia be to a man, when the minor performers make their appearance upon the scene! This is not a season for amusements to flourish in Lisbon. There are no bull-fights now-in token of the national sorrow; nor any burning of heretics. Missing the first sight (except for once) does not vehemently distress me. I hate animal combats; and, still more, sports in which animals are tormented by men. Burney, in his "Musical Tour," (Germany, 1772,) gives a whimsical account, I re |