A Book of Voyages

  The next day the Doge went to St. Mark’s, with the same attendance but clad in white brocade, the upper garment of gold, and the under of silver. At his entring into the church he had holy water brought him by a canon; and then he went into the choir and sate down before the high altar, on a seat made in the wall like a pulpit, without a canopy. Close by, on a low seat, was the French embassador, and the emperor’s, the Spanish never being present, on account of some controversy about precedence; but they had a desk to kneel at without cushions. After the Doge had kiss’d the Gospel, and been thrice incensed, the embassadors kiss’d it, and each was twice incensed: After the consecration, the same was repeated, every senator was once incensed, that is, the censer once wav’d to him, and kiss’d the image of St. Mark, as the others had done before. Four canons came twice and bow’d to the Doge, and he at the offertory gave them a piece of gold. When out of the church, he stopp’d before the giants, and having dismiss’d all those great men, retir’d to his apartment.

  I cannot at present acquaint you with any thing else that is curious, except that yesterday the council often sate, on account of a barbarous murder, committed on a design of robbing, by one Andino Furno of Torino, on the body of his master, who was a good priest; and this very day he was beheaded between the columns of the Brojo, or the publick place for voting, and his body quarter’d, a great multitude looking on; for no man has been executed these four years. I am sorry this letter should end with a doleful relation; but I ought to be much more concern’d for troubling you so long with my simple tales, so wishing you all happiness, &c.

  LETTER IV

  Of the arsenal, mint, Jews quarter, churches, &c.

  VENICE, FEBRUARY THE 12th, 1686

  I have been above this hour puzzling my brain, to begin to write handsomely; and whether it be my misfortune, or my dullness that occasions it, I do not see any likelihood of succeeding; so that this bout, instead of patience, you must afford me your compassion, looking on me as a man quite beside myself among so many opera’s, plays, masks, sports, entertainments, and delights; but now give me leave to acquaint you, in short, with what I have seen this week.

  The famous arsenal of this city, is a place wall’d in, about three miles in compass. Here about two thousand men are continually at work, upon all things necessary for ships, either of war or merchants. Here are great numbers of galleys, galeasses, transports and other great ships; some of them newly begun, others further advanc’d, and others finished, under very large and spacious arches; besides those taken from the Turks, which lie about in several places, as monuments of the Venetian valour. In one place you may see a numerous train of artillery, with all things belonging to it; in another match, ball, bombs, grenadoes, and all such sorts of inventions. Here are breast-plates, belly-pieces, helmets, and bucklers; there pikes, swords, scymitars, spears, bows, and guns; there sails, rudders, anchors, cables, each of them in a several storehouse. In short, this looks like the palace of Mars, furnish’d both with armour for defence, and weapons for slaughter; so that they can in an hour fit out fifty galleys, and twenty galeasses.

  The mint is under the court of the procurators in St. Mark’s square, where they coin gold, silver, and brass, not with a mill, but the hammer; and in some rooms there are chests of money, belonging to private citizens, who leave it there for more security, as we use to put it into the banks.

  The Jews quarter is a spacious place, and has something in it worth a curious man’s observation; as the school where they teach Hebrew, and several synagogues. I went into one call’d the Spanish, because those of that nation meet in it, and saw those wretches sitting on long benches, saying their fruitless prayers, with hoods on their heads, and a white clout on their shoulders, with tassels at the four corners. Their Rabbi sate at one end of the room on a chair, somewhat raised from the ground, who cry’d out like a mad man, the other Jews answering at times. I was full of admiration when I saw five books taken from under the altar, written on vellum, being kept between two tables cover’d with silk, and silver plates. They were carried to the Rabbi for him to read a while, according to their superstitious rites. I was told they were the books of Moses, and that when they were to be copy’d, the transcriber must be a month in purifying himself for that work, nor eat any thing on the days he writes, and make fresh ink in a very clean vessel; adding, that in case one single point were amiss, the whole copy would be look’d upon as erroneous. Next I went up to the galleries where the women meet, where I found a bride, who told me, she had been a month upon her purification, before she could be admitted to that place.

  As for the churches I have hitherto seen, the finest in my opinion are, that of the barefoot Carmelites, remarkable for its famous marble frontispiece, and the sixteen statues within it; La Salute, which is oval, and adorn’d both within and without, with incomparable marble statues; that of St. John and Paul, which is spacious enough, and has many chapels, embellish’d with many marble statues, especially that of our lady. In this church-yard, on a large pedestal, stands a brass statue a-horseback, representing Bartholomew Coglione of Bergamo, a renowned soldier in his time, and as such remarkable at the famous battle of Lepanto against the Turks. That of St. George, of the fathers of Cassino, is also rich in statues, both brass and marble, and valuable for its magnificent choir. The library of this place must be allow’d to be one of the best in the city, as well for the number as the variety and choice of books, not to mention the curious binding, the fine cases, all shut up with the clearest glasses, and the noble statues and pictures; for in my opinion, the true ornament of libraries consists in the books themselves, and all the rest is the contrivance of idle persons, who do not much apply themselves to reading. The garden also deserves to be taken notice of for its stately walks, most artfully adorn’d with tall and thick cypress trees, and odoriferous myrtles, and cover’d over with several choice vines.

  I shall not say any thing of S. Mark at this time, for fear of growing too tedious; but shall reserve it for the next week. I shall now only add, that the cloaths here are every where excessive costly, and the masks wonderful extravagant, thanks to the vast multitude of strangers resorting hither this year; and many things would have been done, had not the senate forbid all persons wearing gold or silver, much less jewels; as also sitting to talk together under the arches of St. Mark. However, no man forbears diverting himself as he best likes. There is continual revelling and dancing; gaming in all parts; every where comedies and serenades; and to say all in a word, Venice at these times is the habitation of the graces, and of all sorts of delight. Yet amidst these universal pleasures, some things happen which provoke tears, or at least compassion. Yesterday, in the afternoon, a new-marry’d man carry’d his wife mask’d into the aforesaid place of St. Mark, where he stepping a little aside upon some occasion, she was taken away by two masks, who having feasted with her at an inn, vanish’d, and the poor wretch being left by herself, was fain to pawn her bracelets to the host, for the mischievous entertainment. Is not this as pleasant an adventure as any you have heard at home? But if I should tell you that I am myself become a knight-errant, would it not make you laugh? On Saturday, as soon as I got into the street, a mask took me by the hand, having a scarlet coat on his back, with gold lace, a garment much used here, and invited me to go drink some muskadine wine. This he did after such a manner, and as familiarly, as if he had been very long well acquainted with me, so that suspecting nothing, I freely went along with him; but when I came to unmask to see who it was, alas! I found a woman. God knows what art I used to get off clear from her, being well satisfy’d to pay the reckoning and go about my business. Observe how warily a man must walk to avoid being insnar’d. Methinks I have writ enough, or at least laziness persuades me so, and therefore with commendations to my friends, &c.

  PHILIP THICKNESSE’S

  GENERAL HINTS TO STRANGERS WHO TRAVEL THROUGH FRANCE

  Philip Thicknesse, the seventh son of the Rector of Farthinghoe in Northamptonshire, was b
orn in 1719. After an abortive start as an apothecary he joined the army, and by 1741 he had reached the rank of captain. By 1766 he had married twice, and each lady brought him about £5,000; in that year he bought the post of Lieutenant-Governor of the Landguard Fort in Suffolk. His second wife was Lady Elizabeth Touchet, daughter of the Earl of Castlehaven, from whom his son inherited the barony of Audley.

  Governor Thicknesse appears to have quarrelled with everybody worth knowing in his time, and he spent some time in prison for a libel. He was an untiring traveller and a voluminous writer. Much of his work was ephemeral, but his Bath Guide, his Journey through France and Part of Spain (from which this extract comes), and his Memoirs and Anecdotes of Philip Thicknesse, late Lieut.-Governor of Landguard Fort, and unfortunately father to George Touchet Baron Audley are very well worth reading.

  I

  IF YOU travel post, when you approach the town, or bourg where you intend to lie, ask the post-boy, which house he recommends as the best, and never go to that, if there is any other.—Be previously informed what other inns there are in the same place. If you go according to the post-boy’s recommendation, the aubergiste gives him two or three livres, which he makes you pay the next morning. I know but one auberge between Marseilles and Paris, where this is not a constant practice, and that is at Vermanton, five leagues from Auxerre, where every English traveller will find a decent landlord, Monsieur la Brunier, à St. Nicolas; good entertainment, and no imposition, and consequently an inn where no post-boy will drive, if he can avoid it.

  II

  If you take your own horses, they must be provided with head-pieces, and halters; the French stables never furnish any such things; and your servant must take care that the Garçon d’Ecurie does not buckle them so tight, that the horses cannot take a full bite, this being a common practice, to save hay.

  III

  If the Garçon d’Ecurie does not bring the halters properly rolled up, when he puts your horses to, he ought to have nothing given him, because they are so constantly accustomed to do it, that they cannot forget it, but in hopes you may too.

  IV

  Direct your servant, not only to see your horses watered, and corn given them, but to stand by while they eat it: this is often necessary in England, and always in France.

  V

  If you eat at the table d’Hôte, the price is fixed, and you cannot be imposed upon. If you eat in your own chamber, and order your own dinner or supper, it is as necessary to make a previous bargain with your host for it, as it would be to bargain with an itinerant Jew for a gold watch; the conscience and honour of a French Aubergiste, and a travelling Jew, are always to be considered alike; and it is very remarkable, that the Publicans in France, are the only people who receive strangers with a cool indifference! and where this indifference is most shown, there is most reason to be cautious.

  VI

  Be careful that your sheets are well aired, otherwise you will find them often, not only damp, but perfectly wet.—Frenchmen in general do not consider wet or damp sheets as dangerous, at least I am sure French Aubergistes do not.

  VII

  Young men who travel into France, with a view of gaining the language, should always eat at the table d’Hôte.—There is generally at these tables an officer, or a priest, and though there may be none but people of a middling degree, they will show every kind of attention and preference to a stranger.

  VIII

  It is necessary to carry your own pillows with you; in some inns they have them; but in villages, bourgs, &c. none are to be had.

  IX

  In the wine provinces, at all the table d’Hôtes, they always provide the common wine, as we do small beer; wine is never paid for separately, unless it is of a quality above the vin du Païs; and when you call for better, know the price before you drink it.

  X

  When fine cambrick handkerchiefs, &c. are given to be washed, take care they are not trimmed round two inches narrower, to make borders to Madame la Blanchisseuse’s night caps: this is a little douceur which they think themselves entitled to, from my lord Anglois, who they are sure is très riche, and consequently ought to be plundered by the poor.

  XI

  Whenever you want honest information, get it from a French officer or a priest, provided they are on the wrong side of forty; but, in general, avoid all intimacy with either on the right side of thirty.

  XII

  Where you propose to stay any time, be very cautious with whom you make an acquaintance, as there are always a number of officious forward Frenchmen, and English adventurers, ready to offer you their services, from whom you will find it very difficult to disengage yourself, after you have found more agreeable company. Frenchmen of real fashion are very circumspect, and will not fall in love with you at first sight; but a designing knave will exercise every species of flattery, in order to fix himself upon you for his dinner, or what else he can get, and will be with you before you are up, and after you are in bed.

  XIII

  Wherever there is any cabinet of curiosities, medals, pictures, &c. to be seen, never make any scruple to send a card, desiring permission to view them; the request is flattering to a Frenchman, and you will never be refused; and besides this, you will in all probability thereby gain a valuable acquaintance. It is generally men of sense and philosophy, who make such collections, and you will find the collector of them, perhaps, the most pleasing part of the cabinet.

  XIV

  Take it as a maxim, unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians, that whenever you are invited to a supper at Paris, Lyons, or any of the great cities, where a little trifling play commences before supper, GREAT PLAY is intended after supper; and that you are the marked pigeon to be plucked. Always remember Lord Chesterfield’s advice to his son: “If you play with men, know with whom you play; if with women, for what:” and do not think yourself the more secure, because you see at the same table some of your own countrymen, though they are lords or ladies; a London gambler would have no chance in a Parisian party.

  XV

  Dress is an essential and most important consideration with every body in France. A Frenchman never appears till his hair is well combed and powdered, however slovenly he may be in other respects.—Not being able to submit every day to this ceremony, the servant to a gentleman of fashion at whose house I visited in Marseilles, having forgot my name, described me to his master, as the gentleman whose hair was toujours mal frisé.—Dress is a foolish thing, says Lord Chesterfield; yet it is a more foolish thing not to be well dressed.

  XVI

  You cannot dine, or visit after dinner, in an undress frock, with or without a bag to your hair: the hair en queüe, or a little cape to your coat, would be considered an unpardonable liberty. Military men have an advantage above all others in point of dress, in France. A regimental or military coat carries a man with a bonne grace into all companies, with or without a bag to his hair: It is of all others the properest dress for a stranger in France, on many accounts.

  XVII

  In France it is not customary to drink to persons at table, nor to drink wine after dinner. When the dessert is taken away, so is the wine;—an excellent custom, and worthy of being observed by all nations.

  XVIII

  It is wrong to be led into any kind of conversation but what is absolutely necessary, with the common, or indeed the middling class of people in France. They never fail availing themselves, of the least condescension in a stranger, to ask a number of impertinent questions, and to conclude, if you answer them civilly, that they are your equals.—Sentiment and bashfulness are not to be met with but among people of rank in France: to be free and easy is the etiquette of the country; and some kinds of that free and easy manner are highly offensive to strangers, and particularly to a shy Englishman.

  XIX

  When well-bred people flatter strangers, they seldom direct their flattery to the object they mean to compliment, but to one of their own country:—As, “What a bonne
grace the English have,” says one to the other, in a whisper loud enough to be heard by the whole company, who all give a nod of consent; yet in their hearts they do not love the English of all other nationsfn4, and therefore conclude, that the English in their hearts do not love them.

  XX

  No gentleman, priest, or servant, male or female, ever gives any notice, by knocking, before they enter the bed-chamber, or apartment of ladies or gentlemen.—The post-man opens it to bring your letters; the capuchin, to ask alms; and the gentleman, to make his visit. There is no privacy but by securing your door by a key or a bolt; and when any of the middling class of people have got possession of your apartment, particularly of a stranger, it is very difficult to get them out.