Lisbon—The two Kings of Portugal, and of Barataria—King Fernando and the Countess—A Lisbon bull-fight—The "hat-trick"—Courtship window-parade—The spurred youth of Lisbon—Portuguese2 politeness—The De Reszke family—The Opera—Terrible personal experiences in a circus—The bounding Bishop5—Ecclesiastical possibilities—Portuguese coinage—Beauty of Lisbon—Visits of the British Fleet—Misguided midshipmen—The Legation Whaleboat—"Good wine needs no bush"—A delightful7 orange-farm—Cintra—Contrast between the Past and Present of Portugal.
A professional diplomat8 becomes used to rapid changes in his environment. He has also to learn to readjust his monetary9 standards, for after calculating everything in roubles for, let us say, four years, he may find himself in a country where the peseta or the dollar are the units. At every fresh post he has to start again from the beginning, as he endeavours to learn the customs and above all the mentality10 of the new country. He has to form a brand-new acquaintance, to get to know the points of view of those amongst whom he is living, and in general to shape himself to totally new surroundings. A diplomat in this way insensibly acquires adaptability11.
It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to Petrograd than Lisbon, which was my next post.
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After the rather hectic12 gaiety of Petrograd, with its persistent13 flavour of an exotic and artificial civilisation14, the placid15, uneventful flow of life at Lisbon was restful, possibly even dull.
Curiously16 enough, in those days there were two Kings of Portugal at the same time. This state of things (which always reminded me irresistibly17 of the two Kings of Barataria in Gilbert and Sullivan's "Gondoliers") had come about quite naturally. Queen Maria II (Maria da Gloria) had married in 1836 Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg, who was raised next year to the title of King Consort18. Maria II died in 1853 and was succeeded by Pedro V. During his son's minority King Ferdinand acted as Regent, and Pedro, dying unmarried eight years after, was succeeded in turn by his brother Luiz, also a son of King Ferdinand.
When the Corps19 Diplomatique were received at the Ajuda Palace on New Year's Day, the scene always struck me as being intensely comical. The two Kings (universally known as Dom Fernando and Dom Luiz) entered simultaneously20 by different doors. When they met Dom Luiz made a low bow to Dom Fernando, and then kissed his father's hand. Dom Fernando responded with an equally low bow, and kissed his son's hand. The two Kings then ascended21 the throne together. Had "The Gondoliers" been already composed then, I should have expected the two Monarchs23 to break into the duet from the second act, "Rising early in the Morning," in which the two Kings of Barataria
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explain their multitudinous duties. As King Luiz had a fine tenor24 voice, His Majesty25 could also in that case have brightened up the proceedings26 by singing us "Take a pair of sparkling eyes."
Dom Fernando was a perfectly27 delightful old gentleman, very highly cultured, full of humour, and with a charming natural courtesy of manner. The drolly-named Necessidades Palace which he inhabited was an unpretentious house full of beautiful old Portuguese furniture. Most of the rooms were wainscoted with the finest "azulejos" I ever saw; blue and white tiles which the Portuguese adopted originally from the Moors28, but learnt later to make for themselves under the tuition of Dutch craftsmen29 from Delft. These "azulejos" form the most decorative30 background to a room that can be imagined. A bold pictorial31 design, a complete and elaborate picture in blue on white, runs along their whole length. It is thus very difficult to remove and re-erect "azulejos," for one broken tile will spoil the whole design. The Portuguese use these everywhere, both for the exteriors32 and interiors of their houses, and also as garden ornaments33, and they are wonderfully effective.
Dom Fernando had married morganatically, as his second wife, a dancer of American origin. This lady had a remarkably34 strident voice, and was much to the fore35 on the fortnightly afternoons when Dom Fernando received the men of the Corps Diplomatique. For some reason or other, the ladies of the Diplomatic Body always found themselves
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unable to attend these gatherings36. The courteous37, genial38 old King would move about, smilingly dispensing39 his truly admirable cigars, and brimful of anecdotes40 and jokelets. The nasal raucaus tones of the ex-dancer, always known as "the Countess," would summon him in English. "Say, King! you just hurry up with those cigars. They are badly wanted here."
I imagine that in the days of her successes on the stage the lady's outline must have been less voluminous than it was when I made her acquaintance. The only other occasion when I heard a monarch22 addressed as "King" tout41 court was when a small relation of my own, aged42 five, at a children's garden-party at Buckingham Palace insisted on answering King Edward VII's questions with a "Yes, O King," or "No, O King"; a form of address which had a pleasant Biblical flavour about it.
The Portuguese are a very humane43 race, and are extraordinarily44 kind to animals. They are also devoted45 to bull-fights. These two tendencies seem irreconcilable46, till the fact is grasped that a Portuguese bull-fight is absolutely bloodless. Neither bulls nor horses are killed; the whole spectacle resolves itself into an exhibition of horsemanship and skill.
The bulls' horns are padded and covered with leather thongs47. The picador rides a really good and highly-trained horse. Should he allow the bull even to touch his horse with his padded horns, the unfortunate picador will get mercilessly hissed48.
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These picadores do not wear the showy Spanish dresses, but Louis Quinze costumes of purple velvet49 with large white wigs50. The espada is armed with a wooden sword only, which he plants innocuously on the neck of the bull, and woe52 betide him should those tens of thousands of eager eyes watching him detect a deviation53 of even one inch from the death-dealing spot. He will be hissed out of the ring. On the other hand, should he succeed in touching54 the fatal place with his harmless weapon, his skill would be rewarded with thunders of applause, and all the occupants of the upper galleries would shower small change and cigarettes into the ring, and would also hurl55 their hats into the arena56, which always struck me as a peculiarly comical way of expressing their appreciation58.
The espada would gaze at the hundreds of shabby battered59 bowler60 hats reposing61 on the sand of the arena with the same expression of simulated rapture62 that a prima donna assumes as floral tributes are handed to her across the footlights. The espada, his hand on his heart, would bow again and again, as though saying, "Are these lovely hats really for me?" But after a second glance at the dilapidated head-gear, covering the entire floor-space of the arena with little sub-fuse hummocks63, he would apparently64 change his mind. "It is really amazingly good of you, and I do appreciate it, but I think on the whole that I will not deprive you of them," and then an exhibition of real skill occurred. The espada, taking up a hat, would
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glance at the galleries. Up went a hand, and the hat hurtled aloft to its owner with unfailing accuracy; and this performance was repeated perhaps a hundred times. I always considered the espada's hat-returning act far more extraordinary than his futile65 manipulation of the inoffensive wooden sword. During the aerial flights of the hats, two small acolytes66 of the espada, his miniature facsimiles in dress, picked up the small change and cigarettes, and, I trust, duly handed them over intact to their master. The bull meanwhile, after his imaginary slaughter67, had trotted68 home contentedly69 to his underground quarters, surrounded by some twenty gaily-caparisoned tame bullocks. To my mind Spanish bull-fighting is revolting and horrible to the last degree. I have seen it once, and nothing will induce me to assist a second time at so disgusting a spectacle; but the most squeamish person can view a Portuguese bull-fight with impunity70. Even though the bull has his horns bandaged, considerable skill and great acrobatic agility71 come into play. Few of us would care to stand in the path of a charging polled Angus bull, hornless though he be. The bandarilheros who plant paper-decorated darts72 in the neck of the charging bull are as nimble as trained acrobats73, and vault74 lightly out of the ring when hard pressed. Conspicuous75 at a Lisbon bull-fight are a number of sturdy peasants, tricked out in showy clothes of scarlet76 and orange. These are "the men of strength." Should a bull prove cowardly in the ring, and decline to fight, the public
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clamour for him to be caught and expelled ignomiously from the ring by "the men of strength." Eight of the stalwart peasants will then hurl themselves on to the bull and literally77 hustle78 him out of the arena; no mean feat79. Take it all round, a Portuguese bull-fight was picturesque80 and full of life and colour, though the neighbouring Spaniards affected81 an immense contempt for them on account of their bloodlessness and make-belief.
A curious Portuguese custom is one which ordains82 that a youth before proposing formally for a maiden83's hand must do "window parade" for two months (in Portuguese "fazer a janella"). Nature has not allotted84 good looks to the majority of the Portuguese race, and she has been especially niggardly85 in this respect to the feminine element of the population. The taste for olives and for caviar is usually supposed to be an acquired one, and so may be the taste for Lusitanian loveliness. Somewhat to the surprise of the foreigner, Portuguese maidens86 seemed to inspire the same sentiments in the breasts of the youthful male as do their more-favoured sisters in other lands, but in bourgeois87 circles the "window-parade" was an indispensable preliminary to courtship. The youth had to pass backwards88 and forwards along the street where the dwelling89 of his innamorata was situated90, casting up glances of passionate91 appeal to a window, where, as he knew, the form of his enchantress would presently appear. The maiden, when she judged that she might at length reveal herself
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without unduly92 encouraging her suitor, moved to the open window and stood fanning herself, laboriously93 unconscious of her ardent94 swain in the street below. The youth would then express his consuming passion in pantomime, making frantic95 gestures in testimony96 of his mad adoration97. The senhorita in return might favour him with a coy glance, and in token of dismissal would perhaps drop him a rose, which the young man would press to his lips and then place over his heart, and so the performance came to an end, to be renewed again the next evening. The lovesick swain would almost certainly be wearing spurs. At first I could not make out why the young men of Lisbon, who had probably never been on a horse in their whole lives, should habitually98 walk about the town with spurs on their heels. It was, I think, a survival of the old Peninsular tradition, and was intended to prove to the world that they were "cavalleiros." In Spain an immense distinction was formerly99 made between the "caballero" and the "peon"; the mounted man, or gentleman, and the man on foot, or day-labourer. The little box-spurs were the only means these Lisbon youths had of proving their quality to the world. They had no horses, but they had spurs, which was obviously the next best thing.
Fortunes in Portugal being small, and strict economy having to be observed amongst all classes, I have heard that these damsels of the window-sill only dressed down to the waist. They would assume a corsage of scarlet or crimson100 plush, and,
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their nether101 garments being invisible from below, would study both economy and comfort by wearing a flannel102 petticoat below it. It is unnecessary for me to add that I never verified this detail from personal observation.
Some of the old Portuguese families occupied very fine, if sparsely103 furnished, houses, with enfilades of great, lofty bare rooms. After calling at one of these houses, the master of it would in Continental104 fashion "reconduct" his visitor towards the front door. At every single doorway105 the Portuguese code of politeness dictated107 that the visitor should protest energetically against his host accompanying him one step further. With equal insistence108 the host expressed his resolve to escort his visitor a little longer. The master of the house had previously109 settled in his own mind exactly how far he was going towards the entrance, the distance depending on the rank of the visitor, but the accepted code of manners insisted upon these protests and counter-protests at every single doorway.
In Germany "door-politeness" plays a great part. In one of Kotzebue's comedies two provincial110 notabilities of equal rank are engaged in a duel111 of "door-politeness." "But I must really insist on your Excellency passing first." "I could not dream of it, your Excellency. I will follow you." "Your Excellency knows that I could never allow that," and so on. The curtain falls on these two ladies each declining to precede the other, and when it rises on the second act the doorway is still there,
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and the two ladies are still disputing. Quite an effective stage-situation, and one which a modern dramatist might utilise.
In paying visits in Lisbon one was often pressed to remain to dinner, but the invitation was a mere112 form of politeness, and was not intended to be accepted. You invariably replied that you deeply regretted that you were already engaged. The more you were urged to throw over your engagement, the deeper became your regret that this particular engagement must be fulfilled. The engagement probably consisted in dining alone at the club, but under no circumstances must the invitation be accepted. In view of the straitened circumstances of most Portuguese families, the evening meal would probably consist of one single dish of bacalhao or salt cod106, and you would have put your hosts to the greatest inconvenience.
With the exception of the Opera, the Lisbon theatres were most indifferent. When I first arrived there the Lisbon Opera had been fortunate enough to secure the services of a very gifted Polish family, a sister and two brothers, the latter of whom were destined114 later to become the idols115 of the London public. They were Mlle. de Reszke and Jean and Edouard de Reszke, all three of them then comparatively unknown. Mlle. de Reszke had the most glorious voice. To hear her singing with her brother Jean in "Faust" was a perfect revelation. Mlle. de Reszke appeared to the best advantage when the stalwart Jean sang with her, for she was
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immensely tall, and towered over the average portly, stumpy, little operatic tenor. The French say, cruelly enough, "bête comme un ténor." This may or may not be true, but the fact remains116 that the usual stage tenor is short, bull-necked, and conspicuously117 inclined to adipose118 tissue. When her brother Jean was out of the cast, it required an immense effort of the imagination to picture this splendid creature as being really desperately119 enamoured of the little paunchy, swarthy individual who, reaching to her shoulder only, was hurling120 his high notes at the public over the footlights.
At afternoon parties these three consummate121 artists occasionally sang unaccompanied trios. I have never heard anything so perfectly done. I am convinced that had Mlle. de Reszke lived, she would have established as great a European reputation as did her two brothers. The Lisbon musical public were terribly critical. They had one most disconcerting habit. Instead of hissing122, should an artist have been unfortunate enough to incur123 their displeasure, the audience stood up and began banging the movable wooden seats of the stalls and dress circle up and down. This produced a deafening124 din4, effectually drowning the orchestra and singers. The effect on the unhappy artist against whom all this pandemonium125 was directed may be imagined. On gala nights the Lisbon Opera was decorated in a very simple but effective manner. Most Portuguese families own a number of "colchas," or embroidered126 bed-quilts. These are of satin, silk,
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or linen127, beautifully worked in colours. On a gala night, hundreds of these "colchas" were hung over the fronts of the boxes and galleries, with a wonderfully decorative effect. In the same way, on Church festivals, when religious processions made their way through the streets, many-lined "colchas" were thrown over the balconies of the houses, giving an extraordinarily festive128 appearance to the town.
As at Berlin and Petrograd, there was a really good circus at Lisbon. I, for one, am sorry that this particular form of entertainment is now obsolete129 in England, for it has always appealed to me, in spite of some painful memories connected with a circus which, if I may be permitted a long digression, I will relate.
Nearly thirty years ago I left London on a visit to one of the historic châteaux of France, in company with a friend who is now a well-known member of Parliament, and also churchwarden of a famous West-end church. We travelled over by night, and reached our destination about eleven next morning. We noticed a huge circular tent in the park of the château, but paid no particular attention to it. The first words with which our hostess, the bearer of a great French name, greeted us were, "I feel sure that I can rely upon you, mes amis. You have to help us out of a difficulty. My son and his friends have been practising for four months for their amateur circus. Our first performance is to-day at two o'clock. We have sold eight hundred tickets for the benefit of the French Red Cross,
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and yesterday, only yesterday, our two clowns were telegraphed for. They have both been ordered to the autumn manoeuvres, and you two must take their places, or our performance is ruined. Je sais que vous n'allez pas me manquer." In vain we both protested that we had had no experience whatever as clowns, that branch of our education having been culpably130 neglected. Our hostess insisted, and would take no denial. "Go and wash; go and eat; and then put on the dresses you will find in your rooms." I never felt so miserable131 in my life as I did whilst making up my face the orthodox dead white, with scarlet triangles on the cheeks, big mouth, and blackened nose. The clown's kit132 was complete in every detail, with wig51, conical hat, patterned stockings and queer white felt shoes. As far as externals went, I was orthodoxy itself, but the "business," and the "wheezes133"! The future church-warden had been taken in hand by some young Frenchmen. As he was to play "Chocolat," the black clown, they commenced by stripping him and blacking him from head to foot with boot-blacking. They then polished him.
I entered the ring with a sinking heart. I was to remain there two hours, and endeavour to amuse a French audience for that period without any preparation whatever. "Business," "gag," and "patter" had all to be improvised134, and the "patter," of course, had to be in French. Luckily, I could then throw "cart-wheels" and turn somersaults to an indefinite extent. So I made my entrance in
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that fashion. Fortunately I got on good terms with my audience almost at once, and with confidence came inspiration; and with inspiration additional confidence, and a judicious135 recollection of the stock-tricks of clowns in various Continental capitals. Far greater liberties can be taken with a French audience than would be possible in England, but if anyone thinks it an easy task to go into a circus ring and to clown for two hours on end in a foreign language, without one minute's preparation, let him try it. The ring-master always pretends to flick136 the clown; it is part of the traditional "business"; but this amateur ring-master (most beautifully got up) handled his long whip so unskilfully that he not only really flicked138 my legs, but cut pieces out of them. When I jumped and yelled with genuine pain, the audience roared with laughter, so of course the ring-master plied113 his whip again. At the end of the performance my legs were absolutely raw. The clown came off badly too in some of the "roughs-and-tumbles," for the clown is always fair game. The French amateurs gave a really astonishingly good performance. They had borrowed trained horses from a real circus, and the same young Hungarian to whom I have alluded139 at the beginning of these reminiscences as having created a mild sensation by appearing at Buckingham Palace in a tiger-skin tunic140 trimmed with large turquoises141, rode round the ring on a pad in sky-blue tights, bounding through paper hoops142 and over garlands of artificial flowers as easily and
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gracefully144 as though he had done nothing else all his life. Later on in the afternoon this versatile145 Hungarian reappeared in flowing Oriental robes and a false beard as "Ali Ben Hassan, the Bedouin Chief." Riding round the ring at full gallop146, and firing from the saddle with a shot-gun, he broke glass balls with all the dexterity147 of a trained professional. That young Hungarian is now a bishop of the Roman Catholic Church. Before 1914 I had occasion to meet him frequently. Whenever I thought that on the strength of his purple robes he was assuming undue148 airs of ecclesiastical superiority (to use the word "swanking" would be an unpardonable vulgarism, especially in the case of a bishop), I invariably reminded his lordship of the afternoon, many years ago, when, arrayed in sky-blue silk tights, he had dashed through paper hoops in a French amateur circus. My remarks were usually met with the deprecatory smile and little gesture of protest of the hand so characteristic of the Roman ecclesiastic6, as the bishop murmured, "Cher ami, tout cela est oublié depuis longtemps," I assured the prelate that for my own part I should never forget it, if only for the unexpected skill he had displayed; though I recognise that bishops149 may dislike being reminded of their past, especially when they have performed in circuses in their youth.
In addition to the Hungarian's "act," there was another beautiful exhibition of horsemanship. A boy of sixteen, a member of an historic French family, by dint150 of long, patient, and painful
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practice, was able to give an admirable performance of the familiar circus "turn" known as "The Courier of St. Petersburg," in which the rider, standing151 a-straddle on two barebacked ponies152, drives four other ponies in front of him; an extraordinary feat for an amateur to have mastered. My friend the agile153 ecclesiastic is portrayed154, perhaps a little maliciously155, in Abel Hermant's most amusing book "Trains de Luxe," under the name of "Monseigneur Granita de Caffe Nero." It may interest ladies to learn that this fastidious prelate always had his purple robes made by Doucet, the famous Paris dressmaking firm, to ensure that they should "sit" properly. On the whole, our circus was really a very creditable effort for amateurs.
The entertainment was, I believe, pronounced a tremendous success, and at its conclusion the only person who was the worse for it was the poor clown. He had not only lost his voice entirely156, from shouting for two hours on end, but he was black and blue from head to foot. Added to which, his legs were raw and bleeding from the ring-master's pitiless whip. I am thankful to say that in the course of a long life that was my one and only appearance in the ring of a circus. My fellow-clown, "Chocolat," the future member of Parliament and churchwarden, had been so liberally coated with boot-blacking by his French friends that it refused to come off, and for days afterwards his face was artistically157 decorated with swarthy patches.
Before 1914, I had frequently pointed158 out to my
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friend the bishop that should he wish to raise any funds in his Hungarian diocese he could not do better than repeat his performance in the French circus. As a concession159 to his exalted160 rank, he might wear tights of episcopal purple. Should he have retained any of the nimbleness of his youth, his flock could not fail to be enormously gratified at witnessing their chief pastor161 bounding through paper hoops and leaping over obstacles with incredible agility for his age. The knowledge that they had so gifted and supple162 a prelate would probably greatly increase his moral influence over them and could scarcely fail to render him amazingly popular. Could his lordship have convinced his flock that he could demolish163 the arguments of any religious opponent with the same ease that he displayed in penetrating164 the paper obstacles to his equestrian165 progress, he would certainly be acclaimed166 as a theological controversialist of the first rank. In the same way, I have endeavoured to persuade my friend the member of Parliament that he might brighten up the proceedings in the House of Commons were he to appear there occasionally in the clown's dress he wore thirty years ago in France. Failing that, his attendance at the Easter Vestry Meeting of his West-end church with a blackened face might introduce that note of hilarity167 which is often so markedly lacking at these gatherings.
All this has led me far away from Lisbon in the "'eighties." Mark Twain has described, in "A Tramp Abroad," the terror with which a foreigner
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is overwhelmed on being presented with his first hotel bill on Portuguese territory. The total will certainly run into thousands of reis, and the unhappy stranger sees bankruptcy168 staring him in the face.
As a matter of fact, one thousand reis equal at par1 exactly four and twopence. It follows that a hundred reis are the equivalent of fivepence, and that one rei is the twentieth of a penny.
A French colleague of mine insisted that the Portuguese were actuated by national pride in selecting so small a monetary unit. An elementary calculation will show that the proud possessor of £222 10s. can claim to be a millionaire in Portugal. According to my French friend, Portugal was anxious to show the world that though a small country, a larger proportion of her subjects were millionaires than any other European country could boast of. In the same way the Frenchman explained the curious Lisbon habit of writing a number over every opening on the ground floor of a house, whether door or window. As a result the numbers of the houses crept up rapidly to the most imposing169 figures. It was not uncommon170 to find a house inscribed171 No. 2000 in a comparatively short street. Accordingly, Lisbon, though a small capital, was able to gain a spurious reputation for immense size.
A peculiarity172 of Lisbon was the double set of names of the principal streets and squares: the official name, and the popular one. I have never known this custom prevail anywhere else. Thus the
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principal street was officially known as Rua Garrett, and that name was duly written up. Everyone, though, spoke173 of it as the "Chiada." In the same way the splendid square facing the Tagus which English people call "Black Horse Square" had its official designation written up as "Praça do Comercio." It was, however, invariably called "Terreiro do Paço." The list could be extended indefinitely. Street names in Lisbon did not err3 in the matter of shortness. "Rua do Sacramento a Lapa de Baixio" strikes me as quite a sufficiently174 lengthy175 name for a street of six houses.
Lisbon is certainly a handsome town. It has been so frequently wrecked176 by earthquakes that there is very little mediæval architecture remaining, in spite of its great age. Two notable exceptions are the Tower of Belem and the exquisitely178 beautiful cloisters179 of the Hieronymite Convent, also at Belem. The tower stands on a promontory180 jutting181 into the Tagus, and the convent was built in the late fifteen-hundreds to commemorate182 the discovery of the sea route to India by Vasco da Gama. These two buildings are both in the "Manoeline" style, a variety of highly ornate late Gothic peculiar57 to Portugal. It is the fashion to sneer183 at Manoeline architecture, with its profuse184 decoration, as being a decadent185 style. To my mind the cloisters of Belem (the Portuguese variant186 of Bethlehem) rank as one of the architectural masterpieces of Europe. Its arches are draped, as it were, with a lace-work of intricate and minute stone carving187, as delicate
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almost as jewellers' work. The warm brown colour of the stone adds to the effect, and anyone but an architectural pedant188 must admit the amazing beauty of the place. The finest example of Manoeline in Portugal is the great Abbey of Batalha, in my day far away from any railway, and very difficult of access.
At the time of the great earthquake of 1755 which laid Lisbon in ruins, Portugal was fortunate enough to have a man of real genius at the head of affairs, the Marquis de Pombal. Pombal not only re-established the national finances on a sound basis, but rebuilt the capital from his own designs. The stately "Black Horse Square" fronting the Tagus and the streets surrounding it were all designed by Pombal. I suppose that there is no hillier capital in the world than Lisbon. Many of the streets are too steep for the tramcars to climb. The Portuguese fashion of coating the exteriors of the houses with bright-coloured tiles of blue and white, or orange and white, gives a cheerful air to the town,—the French word "riant" would be more appropriate—and the numerous public gardens, where the palm-trees apparently grow as contentedly as in their native tropics, add to this effect of sunlit brightness. As in Brazil and other Portuguese-speaking countries, the houses are all very tall, and sash-windows are universal, as in England, contrary to the custom of other Continental countries.
House rent could not be called excessive in Portugal. In my day quite a large house, totally lacking
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in every description of modern convenience, but with a fine staircase and plenty of lofty rooms, could be hired for £30 a year, a price which may make the Londoner think seriously of transferring himself to the banks of the Tagus.
In the "'eighties" Lisbon was the winter headquarters of our Channel Squadron. I once saw the late Admiral Dowdeswell bring his entire fleet up the Tagus under sail; a most wonderful sight! The two five-masted flagships, the Minotaur and the Agincourt, had very graceful143 lines, and with every stitch of their canvas set, they were things of exquisite177 beauty. The Northumberland had also been designed as a sister ship, but for some reason had had two of her masts removed. The old Minotaur, now alas189! a shapeless hulk known as Ganges II, is still, I believe, doing useful work at Harwich.
As may be imagined, the arrival of the British Fleet infused a certain element of liveliness into the sleepy city. Gambling-rooms were opened all over Lisbon, and as the bluejackets had a habit of wrecking190 any place where they suspected the proprietor191 of cheating them, the Legation had its work cut out for it in endeavouring to placate192 the local authorities and smooth down their wounded susceptibilities. One gambling-house, known as "Portuguese Joe's," was frequented mainly by midshipmen. They were strictly193 forbidden to go there, but the place was crammed194 every night with them, in spite of official prohibition195. The British midshipman being a creature of impulse, the
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moment these youths (every one of whom thought it incumbent196 on his dignity to have a huge cigar in his mouth, even though he might still be of very tender years) suspected any foul197 play, they would proceed very systematically198 and methodically to smash the whole place up to matchwood. There was consequently a good deal of trouble, and the Legation quietly put strong pressure on the Portuguese Government to close these gambling-houses down permanently199. This was accordingly done, much to the wrath200 of the midshipmen, who were, I believe, supplied with free drinks and cigars by the proprietors201 of these places. It is just possible that the Admiral's wishes may have been consulted before this drastic action was taken. Midshipmen in those days went to sea at fourteen and fifteen years of age, and consequently needed some shepherding.
As our Minister had constantly to pay official visits to the Fleet, the British Government kept a whale-boat at Lisbon for the use of the Legation. The coxswain, an ex-naval202 petty officer who spoke Portuguese, acted as Chancery servant when not afloat. When the boat was wanted, the coxswain went down to the quay203 with two bagfuls of bluejackets' uniforms, and engaged a dozen chance Tagus boatmen. The Lisbon boatman, though skilful137, is extraordinarily unclean in his person and his attire204. I wish the people who lavished205 praises on the smart appearance of the Legation whaleboat and of its scratch crew could have seen, as I
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often did, the revoltingly filthy206 garments of these longshoremen before they drew the snowy naval white duck trousers and jumpers over them. Their persons were even dirtier, and—for reasons into which I need not enter—it was advisable to smoke a strong cigar whilst they were pulling. The tides in the Tagus run very strong; at spring-tides they will run seven or eight knots, so considerable skill is required in handling a boat. To do our odoriferous whited sepulchres of boatmen justice, they could pull, and the real workmanlike man-of-war fashion in which our coxswain always brought the boat alongside a ship, in spite of wind and tremendous tide, did credit to himself, and shed a mild reflected glory on the Legation.
The country round Lisbon is very arid207. It produces, however, most excellent wines, both red and white, and in my time really good wine could be bought for fourpence a bottle. At the time of the vintage, all the country taverns209 and wine shops displayed a bush tied to a pole at their doors, as a sign that they had new wine, "green wine," as the Portuguese call it, for sale. Let the stranger beware of that new wine! Though pleasant to the palate and apparently innocuous, it is in reality hideously211 intoxicating212, as a reference to the 13th verse of the second chapter of the Acts will show. I think that the custom of tying a bush to the door of a tavern208 where new wine is on sale must be the origin of the expression "good wine needs no bush."
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The capabilities213 of this apparently intractable and arid soil when scientifically irrigated214 were convincingly shown on a farm some sixteen miles from Lisbon, belonging to a Colonel Campbell, an Englishman. Colonel Campbell, who had permanently settled in Portugal, had bought from the Government a derelict monastery215 and the lands attached to it at Torres Vedras, where Wellington entrenched216 himself in his famous lines in 1809-10. A good stream of water ran through the property, and Colonel Campbell diverted it, and literally caused the desert to blossom like the rose. Here were acres and acres of orange groves217, and it was one of the few places in Europe where bananas would ripen218. Colonel Campbell supplied the whole of Lisbon with butter, and the only mutton worth eating came also from his farm. It was a place flowing, if not with milk and honey, at all events with oil and wine. Here were huge tanks brimful of amber-coloured olive oil; whilst in vast dim cellars hundreds of barrels of red and white wine were slowly maturing in the mysterious shadows. Outside the sunlight fell on crates219 of ripe oranges and bananas, ready packed for the Lisbon market, and in the gardens tropical and sub-tropical flowering trees had not only thoroughly220 acclimatised themselves, but had expanded to prima-donna-like dimensions. The great rambling221 tiled monastery made a delightful dwelling-house, and to me it will be always a place of pleasant memories—a place of sunshine and golden orange groves; of
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rustling222 palms and cool blue and white tiles; of splashing fountains and old stonework smothered223 in a tangle224 of wine-coloured Bougainvillea.
The environs of all Portuguese towns are made dreary225 by the miles and miles of high walls which line the roads. These people must surely have some dark secrets in their lives to require these huge barriers between themselves and the rest of the world. Behind the wall were pleasant old quintas, or villas226, faced with my favourite "azulejos" of blue and white, and surrounded with attractive, ill-kept gardens, where roses and oleanders ran riot amidst groves of orange and lemon trees.
Cintra would be a beautiful spot anywhere, but in this sun-scorched land it comes as a surprising revelation; a green oasis227 in a desolate228 expanse of aridity229.
Here are great shady oak woods and tinkling230 fern-fringed brooks231, pleasant leafy valleys, and a grateful sense of moist coolness. On the very summit of the rocky hill of Pena, King Fernando had built a fantastic dream-castle, all domes232 and pinnacles233. It was exactly like the "enchanted234 castle" of one of Gustave Doré's illustrations, and had, I believe, been partly designed by Doré himself. Some of the details may have been a little too flamboyant235 for sober British tastes, but, perched on its lofty rock, this castle was surprisingly effective from below with its gilded236 turrets237 and Moorish238 tiles. As the castle occupied every inch of the summit of the Pena hill, the only approach to it
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was by a broad winding239 roadway tunnelled through the solid rock. Openings had been cut in the sides of the tunnel giving wonderful views over the valleys far down below. This approach was for all the world like the rocky ways up which Parsifal is led to the temple of the Grail in the first act of Wagner's great mystery drama. The finest feature about Pena, to my mind, was the wood of camellias on its southern face. These camellias had grown to a great size, and when in flower in March they were a most beautiful sight.
There was a great deal of work at the Lisbon Legation, principally of a commercial character. There were never-ending disputes between British shippers and the Custom House authorities, and the extremely dilatory240 methods of the Portuguese Government were most trying to the temper at times.
I shall always cherish mildly agreeable recollections of Lisbon. It was a placid, sunlit, soporific existence, very different from the turmoil241 of Petrograd life. The people were friendly, and as hospitable242 as their very limited financial resources enabled them to be. They could mostly speak French in a fashion, still their limited vocabulary was quite sufficient for expressing their more limited ideas.
I never could help contrasting the splendid past of this little nation with its somewhat inadequate243 present, for it must be remembered that Portugal in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was the leading maritime244 Power of Europe. Portugal had
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planted her colonies and her language (surely the most hideous210 of all spoken idioms!) in Asia, Africa, and South America long before Great Britain or France had even dreamed of a Colonial Empire.
They were a race of hardy245 and fearless seamen246. Prince Henry the Navigator, the son of John of Portugal and of John of Gaunt's daughter, discovered Madeira, the Azores, and the Cape247 Verde islands in the early fourteen-hundreds.
In the same century Diaz doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and Vasco da Gama succeeded in reaching India by sea, whilst Albuquerque founded Portuguese colonies in Brazil and at Goa in India. This race of intrepid248 navigators and explorers held the command of the sea long before the Dutch or British, and by the middle of the sixteenth century little Portugal ranked as one of the most powerful monarchies249 in Europe.
Portugal, too, is England's oldest ally, for the Treaty of Windsor establishing an alliance between the two countries was signed as far back as 1386.
This is not the place in which to enter into the causes which led to the gradual decadence250 of this wonderful little nation, sapped her energies and atrophied251 her enterprise. To the historian those causes are sufficiently familiar.
Let us only trust that Lusitania's star may some day rise again.
It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to Petrograd than Lisbon, which was my next post.
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After the rather hectic12 gaiety of Petrograd, with its persistent13 flavour of an exotic and artificial civilisation14, the placid15, uneventful flow of life at Lisbon was restful, possibly even dull.
Curiously16 enough, in those days there were two Kings of Portugal at the same time. This state of things (which always reminded me irresistibly17 of the two Kings of Barataria in Gilbert and Sullivan's "Gondoliers") had come about quite naturally. Queen Maria II (Maria da Gloria) had married in 1836 Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg, who was raised next year to the title of King Consort18. Maria II died in 1853 and was succeeded by Pedro V. During his son's minority King Ferdinand acted as Regent, and Pedro, dying unmarried eight years after, was succeeded in turn by his brother Luiz, also a son of King Ferdinand.
When the Corps19 Diplomatique were received at the Ajuda Palace on New Year's Day, the scene always struck me as being intensely comical. The two Kings (universally known as Dom Fernando and Dom Luiz) entered simultaneously20 by different doors. When they met Dom Luiz made a low bow to Dom Fernando, and then kissed his father's hand. Dom Fernando responded with an equally low bow, and kissed his son's hand. The two Kings then ascended21 the throne together. Had "The Gondoliers" been already composed then, I should have expected the two Monarchs23 to break into the duet from the second act, "Rising early in the Morning," in which the two Kings of Barataria
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explain their multitudinous duties. As King Luiz had a fine tenor24 voice, His Majesty25 could also in that case have brightened up the proceedings26 by singing us "Take a pair of sparkling eyes."
Dom Fernando was a perfectly27 delightful old gentleman, very highly cultured, full of humour, and with a charming natural courtesy of manner. The drolly-named Necessidades Palace which he inhabited was an unpretentious house full of beautiful old Portuguese furniture. Most of the rooms were wainscoted with the finest "azulejos" I ever saw; blue and white tiles which the Portuguese adopted originally from the Moors28, but learnt later to make for themselves under the tuition of Dutch craftsmen29 from Delft. These "azulejos" form the most decorative30 background to a room that can be imagined. A bold pictorial31 design, a complete and elaborate picture in blue on white, runs along their whole length. It is thus very difficult to remove and re-erect "azulejos," for one broken tile will spoil the whole design. The Portuguese use these everywhere, both for the exteriors32 and interiors of their houses, and also as garden ornaments33, and they are wonderfully effective.
Dom Fernando had married morganatically, as his second wife, a dancer of American origin. This lady had a remarkably34 strident voice, and was much to the fore35 on the fortnightly afternoons when Dom Fernando received the men of the Corps Diplomatique. For some reason or other, the ladies of the Diplomatic Body always found themselves
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unable to attend these gatherings36. The courteous37, genial38 old King would move about, smilingly dispensing39 his truly admirable cigars, and brimful of anecdotes40 and jokelets. The nasal raucaus tones of the ex-dancer, always known as "the Countess," would summon him in English. "Say, King! you just hurry up with those cigars. They are badly wanted here."
I imagine that in the days of her successes on the stage the lady's outline must have been less voluminous than it was when I made her acquaintance. The only other occasion when I heard a monarch22 addressed as "King" tout41 court was when a small relation of my own, aged42 five, at a children's garden-party at Buckingham Palace insisted on answering King Edward VII's questions with a "Yes, O King," or "No, O King"; a form of address which had a pleasant Biblical flavour about it.
The Portuguese are a very humane43 race, and are extraordinarily44 kind to animals. They are also devoted45 to bull-fights. These two tendencies seem irreconcilable46, till the fact is grasped that a Portuguese bull-fight is absolutely bloodless. Neither bulls nor horses are killed; the whole spectacle resolves itself into an exhibition of horsemanship and skill.
The bulls' horns are padded and covered with leather thongs47. The picador rides a really good and highly-trained horse. Should he allow the bull even to touch his horse with his padded horns, the unfortunate picador will get mercilessly hissed48.
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These picadores do not wear the showy Spanish dresses, but Louis Quinze costumes of purple velvet49 with large white wigs50. The espada is armed with a wooden sword only, which he plants innocuously on the neck of the bull, and woe52 betide him should those tens of thousands of eager eyes watching him detect a deviation53 of even one inch from the death-dealing spot. He will be hissed out of the ring. On the other hand, should he succeed in touching54 the fatal place with his harmless weapon, his skill would be rewarded with thunders of applause, and all the occupants of the upper galleries would shower small change and cigarettes into the ring, and would also hurl55 their hats into the arena56, which always struck me as a peculiarly comical way of expressing their appreciation58.
The espada would gaze at the hundreds of shabby battered59 bowler60 hats reposing61 on the sand of the arena with the same expression of simulated rapture62 that a prima donna assumes as floral tributes are handed to her across the footlights. The espada, his hand on his heart, would bow again and again, as though saying, "Are these lovely hats really for me?" But after a second glance at the dilapidated head-gear, covering the entire floor-space of the arena with little sub-fuse hummocks63, he would apparently64 change his mind. "It is really amazingly good of you, and I do appreciate it, but I think on the whole that I will not deprive you of them," and then an exhibition of real skill occurred. The espada, taking up a hat, would
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glance at the galleries. Up went a hand, and the hat hurtled aloft to its owner with unfailing accuracy; and this performance was repeated perhaps a hundred times. I always considered the espada's hat-returning act far more extraordinary than his futile65 manipulation of the inoffensive wooden sword. During the aerial flights of the hats, two small acolytes66 of the espada, his miniature facsimiles in dress, picked up the small change and cigarettes, and, I trust, duly handed them over intact to their master. The bull meanwhile, after his imaginary slaughter67, had trotted68 home contentedly69 to his underground quarters, surrounded by some twenty gaily-caparisoned tame bullocks. To my mind Spanish bull-fighting is revolting and horrible to the last degree. I have seen it once, and nothing will induce me to assist a second time at so disgusting a spectacle; but the most squeamish person can view a Portuguese bull-fight with impunity70. Even though the bull has his horns bandaged, considerable skill and great acrobatic agility71 come into play. Few of us would care to stand in the path of a charging polled Angus bull, hornless though he be. The bandarilheros who plant paper-decorated darts72 in the neck of the charging bull are as nimble as trained acrobats73, and vault74 lightly out of the ring when hard pressed. Conspicuous75 at a Lisbon bull-fight are a number of sturdy peasants, tricked out in showy clothes of scarlet76 and orange. These are "the men of strength." Should a bull prove cowardly in the ring, and decline to fight, the public
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clamour for him to be caught and expelled ignomiously from the ring by "the men of strength." Eight of the stalwart peasants will then hurl themselves on to the bull and literally77 hustle78 him out of the arena; no mean feat79. Take it all round, a Portuguese bull-fight was picturesque80 and full of life and colour, though the neighbouring Spaniards affected81 an immense contempt for them on account of their bloodlessness and make-belief.
A curious Portuguese custom is one which ordains82 that a youth before proposing formally for a maiden83's hand must do "window parade" for two months (in Portuguese "fazer a janella"). Nature has not allotted84 good looks to the majority of the Portuguese race, and she has been especially niggardly85 in this respect to the feminine element of the population. The taste for olives and for caviar is usually supposed to be an acquired one, and so may be the taste for Lusitanian loveliness. Somewhat to the surprise of the foreigner, Portuguese maidens86 seemed to inspire the same sentiments in the breasts of the youthful male as do their more-favoured sisters in other lands, but in bourgeois87 circles the "window-parade" was an indispensable preliminary to courtship. The youth had to pass backwards88 and forwards along the street where the dwelling89 of his innamorata was situated90, casting up glances of passionate91 appeal to a window, where, as he knew, the form of his enchantress would presently appear. The maiden, when she judged that she might at length reveal herself
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without unduly92 encouraging her suitor, moved to the open window and stood fanning herself, laboriously93 unconscious of her ardent94 swain in the street below. The youth would then express his consuming passion in pantomime, making frantic95 gestures in testimony96 of his mad adoration97. The senhorita in return might favour him with a coy glance, and in token of dismissal would perhaps drop him a rose, which the young man would press to his lips and then place over his heart, and so the performance came to an end, to be renewed again the next evening. The lovesick swain would almost certainly be wearing spurs. At first I could not make out why the young men of Lisbon, who had probably never been on a horse in their whole lives, should habitually98 walk about the town with spurs on their heels. It was, I think, a survival of the old Peninsular tradition, and was intended to prove to the world that they were "cavalleiros." In Spain an immense distinction was formerly99 made between the "caballero" and the "peon"; the mounted man, or gentleman, and the man on foot, or day-labourer. The little box-spurs were the only means these Lisbon youths had of proving their quality to the world. They had no horses, but they had spurs, which was obviously the next best thing.
Fortunes in Portugal being small, and strict economy having to be observed amongst all classes, I have heard that these damsels of the window-sill only dressed down to the waist. They would assume a corsage of scarlet or crimson100 plush, and,
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their nether101 garments being invisible from below, would study both economy and comfort by wearing a flannel102 petticoat below it. It is unnecessary for me to add that I never verified this detail from personal observation.
Some of the old Portuguese families occupied very fine, if sparsely103 furnished, houses, with enfilades of great, lofty bare rooms. After calling at one of these houses, the master of it would in Continental104 fashion "reconduct" his visitor towards the front door. At every single doorway105 the Portuguese code of politeness dictated107 that the visitor should protest energetically against his host accompanying him one step further. With equal insistence108 the host expressed his resolve to escort his visitor a little longer. The master of the house had previously109 settled in his own mind exactly how far he was going towards the entrance, the distance depending on the rank of the visitor, but the accepted code of manners insisted upon these protests and counter-protests at every single doorway.
In Germany "door-politeness" plays a great part. In one of Kotzebue's comedies two provincial110 notabilities of equal rank are engaged in a duel111 of "door-politeness." "But I must really insist on your Excellency passing first." "I could not dream of it, your Excellency. I will follow you." "Your Excellency knows that I could never allow that," and so on. The curtain falls on these two ladies each declining to precede the other, and when it rises on the second act the doorway is still there,
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and the two ladies are still disputing. Quite an effective stage-situation, and one which a modern dramatist might utilise.
In paying visits in Lisbon one was often pressed to remain to dinner, but the invitation was a mere112 form of politeness, and was not intended to be accepted. You invariably replied that you deeply regretted that you were already engaged. The more you were urged to throw over your engagement, the deeper became your regret that this particular engagement must be fulfilled. The engagement probably consisted in dining alone at the club, but under no circumstances must the invitation be accepted. In view of the straitened circumstances of most Portuguese families, the evening meal would probably consist of one single dish of bacalhao or salt cod106, and you would have put your hosts to the greatest inconvenience.
With the exception of the Opera, the Lisbon theatres were most indifferent. When I first arrived there the Lisbon Opera had been fortunate enough to secure the services of a very gifted Polish family, a sister and two brothers, the latter of whom were destined114 later to become the idols115 of the London public. They were Mlle. de Reszke and Jean and Edouard de Reszke, all three of them then comparatively unknown. Mlle. de Reszke had the most glorious voice. To hear her singing with her brother Jean in "Faust" was a perfect revelation. Mlle. de Reszke appeared to the best advantage when the stalwart Jean sang with her, for she was
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immensely tall, and towered over the average portly, stumpy, little operatic tenor. The French say, cruelly enough, "bête comme un ténor." This may or may not be true, but the fact remains116 that the usual stage tenor is short, bull-necked, and conspicuously117 inclined to adipose118 tissue. When her brother Jean was out of the cast, it required an immense effort of the imagination to picture this splendid creature as being really desperately119 enamoured of the little paunchy, swarthy individual who, reaching to her shoulder only, was hurling120 his high notes at the public over the footlights.
At afternoon parties these three consummate121 artists occasionally sang unaccompanied trios. I have never heard anything so perfectly done. I am convinced that had Mlle. de Reszke lived, she would have established as great a European reputation as did her two brothers. The Lisbon musical public were terribly critical. They had one most disconcerting habit. Instead of hissing122, should an artist have been unfortunate enough to incur123 their displeasure, the audience stood up and began banging the movable wooden seats of the stalls and dress circle up and down. This produced a deafening124 din4, effectually drowning the orchestra and singers. The effect on the unhappy artist against whom all this pandemonium125 was directed may be imagined. On gala nights the Lisbon Opera was decorated in a very simple but effective manner. Most Portuguese families own a number of "colchas," or embroidered126 bed-quilts. These are of satin, silk,
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or linen127, beautifully worked in colours. On a gala night, hundreds of these "colchas" were hung over the fronts of the boxes and galleries, with a wonderfully decorative effect. In the same way, on Church festivals, when religious processions made their way through the streets, many-lined "colchas" were thrown over the balconies of the houses, giving an extraordinarily festive128 appearance to the town.
As at Berlin and Petrograd, there was a really good circus at Lisbon. I, for one, am sorry that this particular form of entertainment is now obsolete129 in England, for it has always appealed to me, in spite of some painful memories connected with a circus which, if I may be permitted a long digression, I will relate.
Nearly thirty years ago I left London on a visit to one of the historic châteaux of France, in company with a friend who is now a well-known member of Parliament, and also churchwarden of a famous West-end church. We travelled over by night, and reached our destination about eleven next morning. We noticed a huge circular tent in the park of the château, but paid no particular attention to it. The first words with which our hostess, the bearer of a great French name, greeted us were, "I feel sure that I can rely upon you, mes amis. You have to help us out of a difficulty. My son and his friends have been practising for four months for their amateur circus. Our first performance is to-day at two o'clock. We have sold eight hundred tickets for the benefit of the French Red Cross,
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and yesterday, only yesterday, our two clowns were telegraphed for. They have both been ordered to the autumn manoeuvres, and you two must take their places, or our performance is ruined. Je sais que vous n'allez pas me manquer." In vain we both protested that we had had no experience whatever as clowns, that branch of our education having been culpably130 neglected. Our hostess insisted, and would take no denial. "Go and wash; go and eat; and then put on the dresses you will find in your rooms." I never felt so miserable131 in my life as I did whilst making up my face the orthodox dead white, with scarlet triangles on the cheeks, big mouth, and blackened nose. The clown's kit132 was complete in every detail, with wig51, conical hat, patterned stockings and queer white felt shoes. As far as externals went, I was orthodoxy itself, but the "business," and the "wheezes133"! The future church-warden had been taken in hand by some young Frenchmen. As he was to play "Chocolat," the black clown, they commenced by stripping him and blacking him from head to foot with boot-blacking. They then polished him.
I entered the ring with a sinking heart. I was to remain there two hours, and endeavour to amuse a French audience for that period without any preparation whatever. "Business," "gag," and "patter" had all to be improvised134, and the "patter," of course, had to be in French. Luckily, I could then throw "cart-wheels" and turn somersaults to an indefinite extent. So I made my entrance in
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that fashion. Fortunately I got on good terms with my audience almost at once, and with confidence came inspiration; and with inspiration additional confidence, and a judicious135 recollection of the stock-tricks of clowns in various Continental capitals. Far greater liberties can be taken with a French audience than would be possible in England, but if anyone thinks it an easy task to go into a circus ring and to clown for two hours on end in a foreign language, without one minute's preparation, let him try it. The ring-master always pretends to flick136 the clown; it is part of the traditional "business"; but this amateur ring-master (most beautifully got up) handled his long whip so unskilfully that he not only really flicked138 my legs, but cut pieces out of them. When I jumped and yelled with genuine pain, the audience roared with laughter, so of course the ring-master plied113 his whip again. At the end of the performance my legs were absolutely raw. The clown came off badly too in some of the "roughs-and-tumbles," for the clown is always fair game. The French amateurs gave a really astonishingly good performance. They had borrowed trained horses from a real circus, and the same young Hungarian to whom I have alluded139 at the beginning of these reminiscences as having created a mild sensation by appearing at Buckingham Palace in a tiger-skin tunic140 trimmed with large turquoises141, rode round the ring on a pad in sky-blue tights, bounding through paper hoops142 and over garlands of artificial flowers as easily and
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gracefully144 as though he had done nothing else all his life. Later on in the afternoon this versatile145 Hungarian reappeared in flowing Oriental robes and a false beard as "Ali Ben Hassan, the Bedouin Chief." Riding round the ring at full gallop146, and firing from the saddle with a shot-gun, he broke glass balls with all the dexterity147 of a trained professional. That young Hungarian is now a bishop of the Roman Catholic Church. Before 1914 I had occasion to meet him frequently. Whenever I thought that on the strength of his purple robes he was assuming undue148 airs of ecclesiastical superiority (to use the word "swanking" would be an unpardonable vulgarism, especially in the case of a bishop), I invariably reminded his lordship of the afternoon, many years ago, when, arrayed in sky-blue silk tights, he had dashed through paper hoops in a French amateur circus. My remarks were usually met with the deprecatory smile and little gesture of protest of the hand so characteristic of the Roman ecclesiastic6, as the bishop murmured, "Cher ami, tout cela est oublié depuis longtemps," I assured the prelate that for my own part I should never forget it, if only for the unexpected skill he had displayed; though I recognise that bishops149 may dislike being reminded of their past, especially when they have performed in circuses in their youth.
In addition to the Hungarian's "act," there was another beautiful exhibition of horsemanship. A boy of sixteen, a member of an historic French family, by dint150 of long, patient, and painful
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practice, was able to give an admirable performance of the familiar circus "turn" known as "The Courier of St. Petersburg," in which the rider, standing151 a-straddle on two barebacked ponies152, drives four other ponies in front of him; an extraordinary feat for an amateur to have mastered. My friend the agile153 ecclesiastic is portrayed154, perhaps a little maliciously155, in Abel Hermant's most amusing book "Trains de Luxe," under the name of "Monseigneur Granita de Caffe Nero." It may interest ladies to learn that this fastidious prelate always had his purple robes made by Doucet, the famous Paris dressmaking firm, to ensure that they should "sit" properly. On the whole, our circus was really a very creditable effort for amateurs.
The entertainment was, I believe, pronounced a tremendous success, and at its conclusion the only person who was the worse for it was the poor clown. He had not only lost his voice entirely156, from shouting for two hours on end, but he was black and blue from head to foot. Added to which, his legs were raw and bleeding from the ring-master's pitiless whip. I am thankful to say that in the course of a long life that was my one and only appearance in the ring of a circus. My fellow-clown, "Chocolat," the future member of Parliament and churchwarden, had been so liberally coated with boot-blacking by his French friends that it refused to come off, and for days afterwards his face was artistically157 decorated with swarthy patches.
Before 1914, I had frequently pointed158 out to my
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friend the bishop that should he wish to raise any funds in his Hungarian diocese he could not do better than repeat his performance in the French circus. As a concession159 to his exalted160 rank, he might wear tights of episcopal purple. Should he have retained any of the nimbleness of his youth, his flock could not fail to be enormously gratified at witnessing their chief pastor161 bounding through paper hoops and leaping over obstacles with incredible agility for his age. The knowledge that they had so gifted and supple162 a prelate would probably greatly increase his moral influence over them and could scarcely fail to render him amazingly popular. Could his lordship have convinced his flock that he could demolish163 the arguments of any religious opponent with the same ease that he displayed in penetrating164 the paper obstacles to his equestrian165 progress, he would certainly be acclaimed166 as a theological controversialist of the first rank. In the same way, I have endeavoured to persuade my friend the member of Parliament that he might brighten up the proceedings in the House of Commons were he to appear there occasionally in the clown's dress he wore thirty years ago in France. Failing that, his attendance at the Easter Vestry Meeting of his West-end church with a blackened face might introduce that note of hilarity167 which is often so markedly lacking at these gatherings.
All this has led me far away from Lisbon in the "'eighties." Mark Twain has described, in "A Tramp Abroad," the terror with which a foreigner
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is overwhelmed on being presented with his first hotel bill on Portuguese territory. The total will certainly run into thousands of reis, and the unhappy stranger sees bankruptcy168 staring him in the face.
As a matter of fact, one thousand reis equal at par1 exactly four and twopence. It follows that a hundred reis are the equivalent of fivepence, and that one rei is the twentieth of a penny.
A French colleague of mine insisted that the Portuguese were actuated by national pride in selecting so small a monetary unit. An elementary calculation will show that the proud possessor of £222 10s. can claim to be a millionaire in Portugal. According to my French friend, Portugal was anxious to show the world that though a small country, a larger proportion of her subjects were millionaires than any other European country could boast of. In the same way the Frenchman explained the curious Lisbon habit of writing a number over every opening on the ground floor of a house, whether door or window. As a result the numbers of the houses crept up rapidly to the most imposing169 figures. It was not uncommon170 to find a house inscribed171 No. 2000 in a comparatively short street. Accordingly, Lisbon, though a small capital, was able to gain a spurious reputation for immense size.
A peculiarity172 of Lisbon was the double set of names of the principal streets and squares: the official name, and the popular one. I have never known this custom prevail anywhere else. Thus the
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principal street was officially known as Rua Garrett, and that name was duly written up. Everyone, though, spoke173 of it as the "Chiada." In the same way the splendid square facing the Tagus which English people call "Black Horse Square" had its official designation written up as "Praça do Comercio." It was, however, invariably called "Terreiro do Paço." The list could be extended indefinitely. Street names in Lisbon did not err3 in the matter of shortness. "Rua do Sacramento a Lapa de Baixio" strikes me as quite a sufficiently174 lengthy175 name for a street of six houses.
Lisbon is certainly a handsome town. It has been so frequently wrecked176 by earthquakes that there is very little mediæval architecture remaining, in spite of its great age. Two notable exceptions are the Tower of Belem and the exquisitely178 beautiful cloisters179 of the Hieronymite Convent, also at Belem. The tower stands on a promontory180 jutting181 into the Tagus, and the convent was built in the late fifteen-hundreds to commemorate182 the discovery of the sea route to India by Vasco da Gama. These two buildings are both in the "Manoeline" style, a variety of highly ornate late Gothic peculiar57 to Portugal. It is the fashion to sneer183 at Manoeline architecture, with its profuse184 decoration, as being a decadent185 style. To my mind the cloisters of Belem (the Portuguese variant186 of Bethlehem) rank as one of the architectural masterpieces of Europe. Its arches are draped, as it were, with a lace-work of intricate and minute stone carving187, as delicate
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almost as jewellers' work. The warm brown colour of the stone adds to the effect, and anyone but an architectural pedant188 must admit the amazing beauty of the place. The finest example of Manoeline in Portugal is the great Abbey of Batalha, in my day far away from any railway, and very difficult of access.
At the time of the great earthquake of 1755 which laid Lisbon in ruins, Portugal was fortunate enough to have a man of real genius at the head of affairs, the Marquis de Pombal. Pombal not only re-established the national finances on a sound basis, but rebuilt the capital from his own designs. The stately "Black Horse Square" fronting the Tagus and the streets surrounding it were all designed by Pombal. I suppose that there is no hillier capital in the world than Lisbon. Many of the streets are too steep for the tramcars to climb. The Portuguese fashion of coating the exteriors of the houses with bright-coloured tiles of blue and white, or orange and white, gives a cheerful air to the town,—the French word "riant" would be more appropriate—and the numerous public gardens, where the palm-trees apparently grow as contentedly as in their native tropics, add to this effect of sunlit brightness. As in Brazil and other Portuguese-speaking countries, the houses are all very tall, and sash-windows are universal, as in England, contrary to the custom of other Continental countries.
House rent could not be called excessive in Portugal. In my day quite a large house, totally lacking
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in every description of modern convenience, but with a fine staircase and plenty of lofty rooms, could be hired for £30 a year, a price which may make the Londoner think seriously of transferring himself to the banks of the Tagus.
In the "'eighties" Lisbon was the winter headquarters of our Channel Squadron. I once saw the late Admiral Dowdeswell bring his entire fleet up the Tagus under sail; a most wonderful sight! The two five-masted flagships, the Minotaur and the Agincourt, had very graceful143 lines, and with every stitch of their canvas set, they were things of exquisite177 beauty. The Northumberland had also been designed as a sister ship, but for some reason had had two of her masts removed. The old Minotaur, now alas189! a shapeless hulk known as Ganges II, is still, I believe, doing useful work at Harwich.
As may be imagined, the arrival of the British Fleet infused a certain element of liveliness into the sleepy city. Gambling-rooms were opened all over Lisbon, and as the bluejackets had a habit of wrecking190 any place where they suspected the proprietor191 of cheating them, the Legation had its work cut out for it in endeavouring to placate192 the local authorities and smooth down their wounded susceptibilities. One gambling-house, known as "Portuguese Joe's," was frequented mainly by midshipmen. They were strictly193 forbidden to go there, but the place was crammed194 every night with them, in spite of official prohibition195. The British midshipman being a creature of impulse, the
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moment these youths (every one of whom thought it incumbent196 on his dignity to have a huge cigar in his mouth, even though he might still be of very tender years) suspected any foul197 play, they would proceed very systematically198 and methodically to smash the whole place up to matchwood. There was consequently a good deal of trouble, and the Legation quietly put strong pressure on the Portuguese Government to close these gambling-houses down permanently199. This was accordingly done, much to the wrath200 of the midshipmen, who were, I believe, supplied with free drinks and cigars by the proprietors201 of these places. It is just possible that the Admiral's wishes may have been consulted before this drastic action was taken. Midshipmen in those days went to sea at fourteen and fifteen years of age, and consequently needed some shepherding.
As our Minister had constantly to pay official visits to the Fleet, the British Government kept a whale-boat at Lisbon for the use of the Legation. The coxswain, an ex-naval202 petty officer who spoke Portuguese, acted as Chancery servant when not afloat. When the boat was wanted, the coxswain went down to the quay203 with two bagfuls of bluejackets' uniforms, and engaged a dozen chance Tagus boatmen. The Lisbon boatman, though skilful137, is extraordinarily unclean in his person and his attire204. I wish the people who lavished205 praises on the smart appearance of the Legation whaleboat and of its scratch crew could have seen, as I
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often did, the revoltingly filthy206 garments of these longshoremen before they drew the snowy naval white duck trousers and jumpers over them. Their persons were even dirtier, and—for reasons into which I need not enter—it was advisable to smoke a strong cigar whilst they were pulling. The tides in the Tagus run very strong; at spring-tides they will run seven or eight knots, so considerable skill is required in handling a boat. To do our odoriferous whited sepulchres of boatmen justice, they could pull, and the real workmanlike man-of-war fashion in which our coxswain always brought the boat alongside a ship, in spite of wind and tremendous tide, did credit to himself, and shed a mild reflected glory on the Legation.
The country round Lisbon is very arid207. It produces, however, most excellent wines, both red and white, and in my time really good wine could be bought for fourpence a bottle. At the time of the vintage, all the country taverns209 and wine shops displayed a bush tied to a pole at their doors, as a sign that they had new wine, "green wine," as the Portuguese call it, for sale. Let the stranger beware of that new wine! Though pleasant to the palate and apparently innocuous, it is in reality hideously211 intoxicating212, as a reference to the 13th verse of the second chapter of the Acts will show. I think that the custom of tying a bush to the door of a tavern208 where new wine is on sale must be the origin of the expression "good wine needs no bush."
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The capabilities213 of this apparently intractable and arid soil when scientifically irrigated214 were convincingly shown on a farm some sixteen miles from Lisbon, belonging to a Colonel Campbell, an Englishman. Colonel Campbell, who had permanently settled in Portugal, had bought from the Government a derelict monastery215 and the lands attached to it at Torres Vedras, where Wellington entrenched216 himself in his famous lines in 1809-10. A good stream of water ran through the property, and Colonel Campbell diverted it, and literally caused the desert to blossom like the rose. Here were acres and acres of orange groves217, and it was one of the few places in Europe where bananas would ripen218. Colonel Campbell supplied the whole of Lisbon with butter, and the only mutton worth eating came also from his farm. It was a place flowing, if not with milk and honey, at all events with oil and wine. Here were huge tanks brimful of amber-coloured olive oil; whilst in vast dim cellars hundreds of barrels of red and white wine were slowly maturing in the mysterious shadows. Outside the sunlight fell on crates219 of ripe oranges and bananas, ready packed for the Lisbon market, and in the gardens tropical and sub-tropical flowering trees had not only thoroughly220 acclimatised themselves, but had expanded to prima-donna-like dimensions. The great rambling221 tiled monastery made a delightful dwelling-house, and to me it will be always a place of pleasant memories—a place of sunshine and golden orange groves; of
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rustling222 palms and cool blue and white tiles; of splashing fountains and old stonework smothered223 in a tangle224 of wine-coloured Bougainvillea.
The environs of all Portuguese towns are made dreary225 by the miles and miles of high walls which line the roads. These people must surely have some dark secrets in their lives to require these huge barriers between themselves and the rest of the world. Behind the wall were pleasant old quintas, or villas226, faced with my favourite "azulejos" of blue and white, and surrounded with attractive, ill-kept gardens, where roses and oleanders ran riot amidst groves of orange and lemon trees.
Cintra would be a beautiful spot anywhere, but in this sun-scorched land it comes as a surprising revelation; a green oasis227 in a desolate228 expanse of aridity229.
Here are great shady oak woods and tinkling230 fern-fringed brooks231, pleasant leafy valleys, and a grateful sense of moist coolness. On the very summit of the rocky hill of Pena, King Fernando had built a fantastic dream-castle, all domes232 and pinnacles233. It was exactly like the "enchanted234 castle" of one of Gustave Doré's illustrations, and had, I believe, been partly designed by Doré himself. Some of the details may have been a little too flamboyant235 for sober British tastes, but, perched on its lofty rock, this castle was surprisingly effective from below with its gilded236 turrets237 and Moorish238 tiles. As the castle occupied every inch of the summit of the Pena hill, the only approach to it
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was by a broad winding239 roadway tunnelled through the solid rock. Openings had been cut in the sides of the tunnel giving wonderful views over the valleys far down below. This approach was for all the world like the rocky ways up which Parsifal is led to the temple of the Grail in the first act of Wagner's great mystery drama. The finest feature about Pena, to my mind, was the wood of camellias on its southern face. These camellias had grown to a great size, and when in flower in March they were a most beautiful sight.
There was a great deal of work at the Lisbon Legation, principally of a commercial character. There were never-ending disputes between British shippers and the Custom House authorities, and the extremely dilatory240 methods of the Portuguese Government were most trying to the temper at times.
I shall always cherish mildly agreeable recollections of Lisbon. It was a placid, sunlit, soporific existence, very different from the turmoil241 of Petrograd life. The people were friendly, and as hospitable242 as their very limited financial resources enabled them to be. They could mostly speak French in a fashion, still their limited vocabulary was quite sufficient for expressing their more limited ideas.
I never could help contrasting the splendid past of this little nation with its somewhat inadequate243 present, for it must be remembered that Portugal in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was the leading maritime244 Power of Europe. Portugal had
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planted her colonies and her language (surely the most hideous210 of all spoken idioms!) in Asia, Africa, and South America long before Great Britain or France had even dreamed of a Colonial Empire.
They were a race of hardy245 and fearless seamen246. Prince Henry the Navigator, the son of John of Portugal and of John of Gaunt's daughter, discovered Madeira, the Azores, and the Cape247 Verde islands in the early fourteen-hundreds.
In the same century Diaz doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and Vasco da Gama succeeded in reaching India by sea, whilst Albuquerque founded Portuguese colonies in Brazil and at Goa in India. This race of intrepid248 navigators and explorers held the command of the sea long before the Dutch or British, and by the middle of the sixteenth century little Portugal ranked as one of the most powerful monarchies249 in Europe.
Portugal, too, is England's oldest ally, for the Treaty of Windsor establishing an alliance between the two countries was signed as far back as 1386.
This is not the place in which to enter into the causes which led to the gradual decadence250 of this wonderful little nation, sapped her energies and atrophied251 her enterprise. To the historian those causes are sufficiently familiar.
Let us only trust that Lusitania's star may some day rise again.
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1
par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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ecclesiastic
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| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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19
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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craftsmen
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| n. 技工 | |
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30
decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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31
pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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32
exteriors
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| n.外面( exterior的名词复数 )；外貌；户外景色图 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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39
dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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41
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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42
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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43
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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44
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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45
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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irreconcilable
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| adj.（指人）难和解的，势不两立的 | |
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47
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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48
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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50
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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52
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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54
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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55
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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56
arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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57
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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58
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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59
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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60
bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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61
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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62
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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63
hummocks
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| n.小丘，岗( hummock的名词复数 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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65
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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66
acolytes
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| n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 )；随从；新手；（天主教）侍祭 | |
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67
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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68
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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69
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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70
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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71
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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72
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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73
acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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74
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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75
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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76
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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78
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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79
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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82
ordains
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的第三人称单数 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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83
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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84
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
niggardly
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| adj.吝啬的，很少的 | |
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86
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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87
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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88
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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89
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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90
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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91
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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92
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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93
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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94
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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95
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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96
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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97
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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98
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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99
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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100
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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101
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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102
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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103
sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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104
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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105
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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106
cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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107
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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108
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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109
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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110
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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111
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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112
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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113
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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114
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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115
idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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116
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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117
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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118
adipose
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| adj.脂肪质的，脂肪多的；n.（储于脂肪组织中的）动物脂肪；肥胖 | |
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119
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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120
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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121
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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122
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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123
incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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124
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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125
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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126
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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127
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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128
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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129
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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130
culpably
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| adv.该罚地，可恶地 | |
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131
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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132
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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133
wheezes
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| n.喘息声( wheeze的名词复数 )v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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134
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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135
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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136
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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137
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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138
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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139
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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140
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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141
turquoises
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| n.绿松石( turquoise的名词复数 )；青绿色 | |
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142
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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143
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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144
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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145
versatile
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| adj.通用的，万用的；多才多艺的，多方面的 | |
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146
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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147
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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148
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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149
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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150
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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151
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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152
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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153
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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154
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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155
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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156
entirely
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|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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157
artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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158
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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159
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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160
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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161
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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162
supple
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|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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163
demolish
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| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
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164
penetrating
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|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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165
equestrian
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| adj.骑马的；n.马术 | |
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166
acclaimed
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| adj.受人欢迎的 | |
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167
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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168
bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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169
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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170
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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171
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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172
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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173
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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174
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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175
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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176
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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177
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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178
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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179
cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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180
promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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181
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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182
commemorate
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| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
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183
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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184
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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185
decadent
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| adj.颓废的，衰落的，堕落的 | |
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186
variant
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| adj.不同的，变异的；n.变体，异体 | |
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187
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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188
pedant
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| n.迂儒；卖弄学问的人 | |
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189
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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190
wrecking
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| 破坏 | |
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191
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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192
placate
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| v.抚慰，平息(愤怒) | |
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193
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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194
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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195
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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196
incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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197
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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198
systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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199
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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200
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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201
proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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202
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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203
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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204
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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205
lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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206
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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207
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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208
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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209
taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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210
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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211
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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212
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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213
capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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214
irrigated
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| [医]冲洗的 | |
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215
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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216
entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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217
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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218
ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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224
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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226
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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227
oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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229
aridity
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| n.干旱，乏味；干燥性；荒芜 | |
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230
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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231
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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232
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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233
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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234
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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236
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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237
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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238
moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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239
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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240
dilatory
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| adj.迟缓的，不慌不忙的 | |
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241
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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242
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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244
maritime
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| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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246
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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247
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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248
intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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249
monarchies
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| n. 君主政体, 君主国, 君主政治 | |
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250
decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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251
atrophied
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| adj.萎缩的，衰退的v.（使）萎缩，（使）虚脱，（使）衰退( atrophy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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