| Citation |
RAG.778.083
10 Nov 1778:12,13,31,32 (121)
From a late London Paper. Observations made in a Journey
through Spain, by a private English Gentleman, and sent to a
friend.
After the peace of Versailles, I had the honour to accompany
a young British nobleman in his travels through the Spanish
dominions; and at the same time I wrote to a friend in
London every observation I made on the characters, manners,
and customs of the Spaniards. . . [5 paragraphs on customs
and people of Spain]
Gallantry in this city is become an epidemical disease
brought here by the French; but though the progress of
intrigue is as successful and extensive in Spain as in
France, yet the means of obtaining the desired end differ
widely. In France, a lover declares himself openly, follows
his mistress to the opera, to all public places, and to
parties of company in private houses, in short every
rendezvous for polite amusement, every splendid feast, and
almost every family entertainment, gives him a fair
opportunity to form his connections. In Spain, the success
of the gallant depends on concealing the sensations of his
breast from the public, in being discreet and secret, even
at the hazard of life. The churches are the only places for
commencing and carrying on an intrigue, in order to bring it
to a happy issue. The mother accompanies her daughter, and
the husband his wife, to all places of entertainment; but
women of all stations go alone to their devotions; so that
every saint's day supplies the place of a play or ball; for
under the veil of piety, the lover finds himself indemished
for all restraints. . .
However. even here, I have met with something to divert me
in a place where I went to be affected with sorrow. A
company of Comedians arrived in this city; and I was assured
that they were excellent, but especially the principal
performer, who had withdrawn from Madrid upon some disgust.
Our Spanish friends pressed us to be present at the
representation of a new tragedy, intitled, "The Death of
Alexis; or The Pattern of Chastity."
Judge my surprise, when I saw on the stage two comedians
in the habit of friars, and found that they were to
represent the chief personages of the drama; but the subject
of this tragedy corresponded with the dignity of the
characters.
Alexis, the hero of this piece, was a Roman Knight, who
being a great admirer of celibacy, leaves his wife abruptly
on the wedding night, and after wandering about from place
to place, at length arrived at his father's house, where he
is not known; but being received as an object of charity
into a wretched chamber, he there expires: a note found in
his hand after his decease discovers him to his unhappy
father; but the paper cannot be forced from him; and dead as
he is, he will not deliver it to any person but the Pope,
who arrives with his whole court to receive the note, and
his pompous entry terminates the piece. . .
They would rather see St. James or St. Philip on the
stage, than Achilles or Agamemnon; and the scourging of St.
Francis excite more tears that the distress of Andromache,
or the despair of Hermoine. Every thing in this country
must have an air of devotion, or rather superstition: even
during the representation of the piece just mentioned I
heard a bell ring, and immediately all the spectators fell
upon their knees; the comedians set the example, and the two
actors who were upon the stage in the middle of the scene
stopped, moved their lips, and muttered some words in a
whisper with the rest of the people; this ceremony over,
they all got up, and the play went on: On enquiring, I was
told this was an office of devotion, called the Angelus,
which I believed none but the Spaniards would have thought
of performing at such a time, and in such a place. But the
mystery of this farce is, that a certain convent enjoys the
privilege of this transitory devotion, and a deputation of
the Friars who receive money for it at the door (under
pretext of relieving the poor) by this method share part of
the profits of the theatre: this deduction from their
revenue excepted, the comedians enjoy the same rights as the
rest of the citizens. They do not live excommunicated, as
in France; nor are they denied the funeral service at their
death; but they do not erect monuments to their memory, as
is practised in England; by observing a medium between the
two extremes, the Spaniards in this particular shew a degree
of moderation highly laudable. . .
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