PALAIS DE FRANCE, PERA, APRIL 20, 1786
I am safely arrived, dear Sir, and hasten to inform you how I made my voyage. I set out the 13th at five in the morning; Mr. de Wynowitch took me out of the harbour in a small frigate, and after seeing me safe in my cabbin took leave. He gave me a royal salute, and as his guns fired, we set sail with a fair wind; we had not been two days at sea before we were becalmed; and we lay three days and three nights, wishing for wind, which came on at last very fresh with rain—On the seventh day, the Greek pilot, the only person on board who had ever been at Constantinople, was dead drunk and incapable of speaking, much less of steering the ship—The officers were greatly alarmed, and there was a long consultation between them and the rest of the company—I luckily had a small map of the Black Sea, and the entrance of the Canal—which alone was our guide—As to me I had dressed myself in a riding habit, and had a small box in one hand, an umbrella in the other, and had told the captain I was determined to get into the boat and land on the Turkish shore, rather than lose sight of the Canal, or sail into it without being quite sure that we were right—There is a large rock on the European shore, which is so far distant from it that, unless a map or pilot directs the mariner, he must infallibly take it for the entrance of the Bosphorus, and several hundreds of Turkish boats are wrecked upon it yearly.
The gentlemen and officers stood all the morning upon deck, watching the shore; we had ran then above ninety leagues to the left, always seeing land, which was owing to the currents which had taken our ship during the three days calm, so much more to the right—As to me I stood between decks till the Captain told me to come and look at a village, church, or something—it was a Turkish Minaret, and a few moments afterward we saw that rock I dreaded so much, upon which there are about a thousand Turkish vessels that perish constantly every year, as the Turks forget as they leave it to the left in coming out, they must leave it to the right in going in—
To return to my voyage, Sir: you may judge how infinitely comfortable I felt, in being at anchor about six in the evening; escaped from all the dangers I had been threatened with upon the Black Sea; and the ugly circumstance that attended us when we were about to take our leave of it. I had so many birds, among which was a most beautiful milk-white small heron, that had taken refuge in the ship, that my cabbin looked like a bird-shop—We supped on board very comfortably, and I took some hours rest; and the next morning we put ourselves in the long-boat, and were rowed to Mr. de Bulkalow’s house at Bouyukdere, but he was at Pera, so we were rowed by a Turkish boat down to Pera—The Bosphorus takes a sudden turn at Bouyukdere—I refer you to Mr. Gibbon, Sir, for his account of the singular situation of Constantinople, my pen will repeat feebly what he has described in language majestic as the subject deserves—But I am certain no landscape can amuse or please in comparison with the varied view, which the borders of this famed Straight compose—Rocks, verdure, ancient castles, built on the summit of the hills by the Genoese—modern Kiosksfn3, Minarets, and large platane-trees, rising promiscuous in the vallies—large meadows—multitudes of people, and boats swarming on the shore and on the water; and what was particular, nothing to be seen like a formal French garden—The Turks have so great a respect for natural beauties, that if they must build a house where a tree stands, they leave a large hole for the tree to pass through and increase in size, they think the branches of it the prettiest ornament for the top of the house. The coast is so safe that a large fleet of Turkish vessels is to be seen in every creek, masts of which are intermingled with the trees, and a graceful confusion and variety make this living picture the most poignant scene I ever beheld.
Judge of Mr. de Bulakow’s surprise, when he had opened his letters and read my name; he had scarcely time to offer me his services, when Mr. de Choiseul’s people came and claimed me from their master, who had been prepared for three weeks before for my arrival, by Mr. de Segur at Petersburgh; and I confess, from the character I had heard of him, I was not at all sorry that he claimed my society as his droit—And now I have heard him speak, I am extremely glad that I am to profit by his conversation and company, both of which are as much to be desired as talents and politeness can make them. Adieu for today—I am sun-burnt, tired, but likewise pleased beyond measure—yes, Sir, pleased to be here, and to call myself by the honoured name of
Your affectionate sister,
E. C—.
A VIEW OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY:
With Anecdotes Relating to Some Eminent Characters.
Dr. John Moore was born in 1729: he studied at Glasgow, where he knew Smollett, and became an Army surgeon. Later he took his doctorate at Glasgow, where he practised for some time. The seventh Duke of Hamilton was put under his care, but he died at the age of 15, and Dr. Moore took charge of the eighth Duke, with whom he travelled for five years, making the grand tour. He remained a close friend of the Duke for the rest of his life—a sufficient comment on the excellence of his bear-leading.
Dr. Moore was as much a man of letters as a physician; in 1779 he published his first work, A View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland, and Germany: with Anecdotes relating to some Eminent Characters, from which this extract is taken. It was successful, and he followed it with A View in Italy; in 1786 he wrote his curious novel Zeluco and a medical treatise.
He was a popular man in society; he knew most people, among them Dr. Johnson, and Sir Thomas Lawrence, who painted his portrait. He corresponded with Burns, and edited Smollett’s works.
In 1792 he was in Paris for the bloodier part of the Revolution; he wrote a Journal during a Residence in France from … August to … December, 1792, and later wrote a more considerable work on the Revolution, its causes and progress. There are two other novels of his, Edward (1796) and Mordaunt (1800): they are said by the D.N.B. to be dull.
Most of Dr. Moore’s sons distinguished themselves, but the third, who was the famous Sir John Moore himself, puts the others in the shade.
Dr. Moore died at Richmond in 1802: Dr. Robert Anderson wrote his biography in 1820.
VIENNA
HAVING left Pressburg, we travelled eight posts across a very fertile country to the palace of Estherhasie, the residence of the Prince of that name. He is the first in rank of the Hungarian nobility, and one of the most magnificent subjects in Europe. He has body guards of his own, all genteel-looking men, richly dressed in the Hungarian manner.
The palace is a noble building, lately finished, and situated near a fine lake. The apartments are equally grand and commodious; the furniture more splendid than almost any thing I have seen in royal palaces. In the Prince’s own apartment there are some curious musical clocks, and one in the shape of a bird, which whistles a tune every hour.
Just by the palace, there is a theatre for operas, and other dramatic entertainments, and in the gardens, a large room with commodious apartments for masquerades and balls.
At no great distance, there is another theatre expressly built for puppet-shows. This is much larger, and more commodious than most provincial playhouses, and I am bold to assert, is the most splendid that has as yet been reared in Europe for that species of actors. We regretted that we could not have the pleasure of seeing them perform; for they have the reputation of being the best comedians in Hungary.
We had the curiosity to peep behind the curtain, and saw Kings, Emperors, Turks, and Christians, all ranged very sociably together. King Solomon was observed in a corner in a very suspicious tête-à-tête with the Queen of Sheba.
Amongst other curiosities, there is in the garden a wooden house, built upon wheels. It contains a room with a table, chairs, a looking-glass, chimney, and fire-place. There are also closets, with many necessary accommodations.