Twenty years around the world

by John Guy Vassar

Valladolid, Spain, May 9, 1853.

Leaving the Escorial I proceeded on horseback, with my guide, across the Guadarama chain of mountains, which divides old and new Castile, a distance of some nine leagues to San Ildefonso, the residence of the Court in the months of July, August, and September, about eighteen leagues from Madrid. We had had rain at the Escorial, which proved to be snow on the mountains. The road was constructed in 1749, by Ferdinand; at its extreme height is a marble lion, five thousand feet above the level of the sea. The view from the summit, with the valleys and villages spread out like a map, was very beautiful, while the tall forest pines with their white mantles among the jagged rocks, and the cascades from the melting snow, were truly Alpine, and reminded me of the Simplon. Here, also, Napoleon crossed on Christmas-eve, in 1808, with great loss from the extreme cold, leading his army in person, and in his impatience leaping from his horse, and walking on the snow, encouraging his troops. During the winter the road is frequently impassable; but notwithstanding that my horse was plunging through snow banks in the narrow passes up to his middle, I felt little inconvenience from the cold under the rays of the mid-day sun, and the highest pinnacles once past, descending rapidly into the valley, a two hours’ ride carried me to the village of La Granja.

In 1722, Philip V., while hunting, discovered this Granja, or farm house, of the Segovian monks, and being of a retiring disposition, bought the site, and commenced building a palace, and laying out the grounds, levelling rocks, forming lakes and fountains, which surpass many in Europe, for there is no want of water here. The gardens are planted in avenues and adorned with marble statues. There are twenty-six great fountains; among the number are the baths of Diana, with twenty female figures. The fountain of Fame throws water one hundred and twenty feet high. The mountain rises abruptly here eight thousand feet high; the snow on the craggy, rocky sides and forests, the fresh vegetation of spring in the valley, and the mountain cataracts, produced one of those magnificent sights which are so difficult to describe, and so hard to forget. The season was still backward, as the fruits of spring ripen in autumn: everything was artificial; rocks were levelled and hollowed to admit pipes and roots of trees, and earth brought from the plains. The expenses were so enormous, that this infatuated king died owing forty-five millions of reals. The palace is pleasantly situated, and looks over the royal grounds; the royal apartments are light, airy, and well finished, but not strikingly magnificent. The saloons have some fine paintings and statuary, but many of these works of art have been removed to Madrid. Here, in January, 1724, Philip V., who was a bigot and hypochondriac, abdicated his crown and resumed it the same year, after the death of his son, being urged to become a king again by his wife, who was tired of private life.

Here, Ferdinand VII., in 1832, revoked the decree by which he had abolished the Salic law, and declared his daughter, the present Queen Isabel, heiress to the crown, which act brought upon Spain her civil wars, and the imputed succession of “Don Carlos,” for here were carried on the court intrigues by Christina, who induced her royal husband to sign the document while on a sick bed. Ferdinand died in 1833, and then commenced the civil wars, which distracted the kingdom. In the same palace, in 1835, this same Ex-Queen Christina, in turn, was deprived of her royal privileges, and forced by the soldiery to proclaim the democratical constitution of 1812, after which she was exiled until the present restoration of things took place. A few leagues further on is the old Castillian city of Segovia, with its giant houses and balconies; it resembles Toledo somewhat; the population is reduced from thirty thousand to nine thousand. Its position is cold and bleak, three thousand three hundred feet above the level of the sea, surrounded by picturesque old walls and towers. Here is the most remarkable Roman Aqueduct I have yet seen. The steep banked rivers of the Erisina and Clamores which girdle the city, were difficult of access, and induced the ancients to bring the pure stream of the Rio Trio several leagues by this aqueduct. It has several angles from two hundred to nine hundred feet, to break the force of the water; the arches rise in proportion as the ground deepens, until they become double; the upper tiers are uniform; the three central ones, which are the most stupendous, being one hundred and two feet in height. This mammoth work is of solid granite blocks, without cement or mortar, of similar form to those in the Campagna of Rome. This immense structure was probably erected by Trajan, but nothing is known of its history. According to some antiquarians, it was built by one Lucinus, but the common people call it the Puente del Diablo, or devil’s bridge, because his Satanic majesty was in love with a fair Segovian, and offered his services for her affections, which she promised him provided he would build an aqueduct in one night, which he did. One stone, however, being found deficient, the church decided the contract void, and Satan was foiled. The lower classes believe the story, and give no credit to other accounts. The aqueduct was respected by the Goths, but broken in part by the Moors of Toledo, in 1071, who destroyed thirty-five arches, which remained in ruin until 1483, when Isabella, Queen of Spain, repaired them. One of the finest old Gothic Cathedrals of Spain is Segina. From its square tower, covered with a cupola three hundred and six feet high, is a beautiful panoramic view of the city with its gardens, convents, aqueduct, and La Granza, lying at the base of the towering mountains.

Valladolid, the city from which I write, has no diligence communication with Segovia. I was therefore, obliged to make a circuit of ninety miles to reach this point, spending a part of a day at San Raphael, the angle of two roads in a miserable Venta, a halting-place for muleteers; it was an open, barn-like barrack, with a stone floor; a huge kitchen, black as night from the smoke of the past twenty years; the ceiling hung with sausages, garlic, bacon, and dried calf skin, while the sides were covered with the whole battery of the cuisine, not forgetting a strolling tinker at work repairing the copper vessels. The huge fireplace in the centre, was some ten feet square, rising conically through the roof, not unlike the smoke-stack of a furnace. The grape-vine fire burned brightly, surrounded by dark-visaged and bearded muleteers in their bandit-appearing costume, singing and cracking their jokes, awaiting the contents of the various copper pots distributed upon the embers and suspended over the flames. In manner I was awaiting my puchero, one of the best Spanish dishes, divested of oil and garlic, and composed of beef and vegetables boiled. My appetite was arrested, however, by the bleating cries of a poor calf three weeks old, which was being massacred by the fire-side. It had no effect upon a poor famished soldier, who had entered and ordered a bowl of broth and a morsel of bread, which seemed to restore him until he disclosed his poverty and inability to pay. In vain he solicited relief from those present; the cook took his handkerchief in payment, and drove him away. I interceded and relieved the poor man, to the satisfaction of the guests, but the cook looked daggers, for he had lost his prize. Travelling in the interior of uncivilized Spain is doing penance, but one is amply compensated for it in the enjoyments of the large cities, and in the examination of the monuments and works of art.

Valladolid was, in the sixteenth century, the seat of royalty, and as such was adorned with splendid edifices, under Charles V.; but its beautiful river and fertile country were abandoned for upstart Madrid, situated in a desert plain, to gratify the caprice of a monarch. Its population dwindled from fifty thousand to half the number. Buonaparte made sad work with the convents in 1809, as the relics of art now collected in the museum testify. Some of the finest specimens of woodcarving by Juan de Juani are found here, while exquisite and elaborate façades of convents in marble still exist in perfection. All the public archives of Spain are preserved at Simancas, a town and castle about two leagues from here. The strong castle, surrounded by a moat, was a well selected site when the capital was here; but it is now too far removed from Madrid. There are some thirty rooms filled with state papers, the correspondence of foreign governments and the provinces. The papers of the Inquisition are very numerous; also war orders and original dispatches of the Grand Captain, letters of the different monarchs, the correspondence of Christopher Columbus, the Inventory of Isabella’s jewelry, and her last will and testament besides the title deeds to the Duke of Wellington’s estate. Napoleon ordered the most curious documents to Paris, as he had already plundered Vienna and Rome. Some eight thousand packages and bundles were sent to Paris, but after the battle of Waterloo most of them were restored. The French soldiers destroyed large numbers, as the strings were useful, and the papers served to make beds, and to light camp fires.

Documents bearing date in the 13th and 14th century are dry and perfectly preserved, as are those of the present day.

There is sufficient of interest to occupy one pleasantly a few days, but having diverged considerably from the main route, I shall proceed to Burgos, celebrated for its Gothic Cathedral, and from thence branch off to the left and visit the Basque provinces of the north. Having strong recommendations here to the husband of the Infanta, or king’s sister, who occupies the palace of Philip III., I was hospitably entertained. It was in this palace that Buonaparte was lodged, and he looked out of the window upon two of the noblest specimens of religious Gothic art in the world; the interior is destined to destruction, but the exterior sculptures of these convents still remain in their purity. Invited to dine en famille, I found myself with a little circle of five persons, the seat of honor being reserved for me beside the Infanta. A sumptuous repast and choice old wines were served by three full-liveried servants, after which the conversation turned upon our beloved country, who found a defender present, and one disposed to portray her beauties and capacities as far as was consistent with his position. The evening closed agreeably at the opera. You will probably hear from me again from Santander or Bilboa, in the north.

LXXXIX.

San Sebastian, Spain, May 23, 1853.