THE ESCURIAL--ST. ILDEFONSO--SEGOVIA.
Journey from Madrid; First View of the Escurial; Philip II.;
Situation of the Escurial; the Church; Lucas Jordan; the Relics;
the Santa Forma; the Sacristy and its Pictures; a Reverie; the Hall
of Recreation; the Library; the Tomb of the Kings; the Manuscript
Library; Ignorance and Idleness of the Monks, and Anecdotes; Manner
of Life among the Monks; the Palace; Particulars of the Extent and
Cost of the Escurial; Pedestrian Journey across the Sierra
Guaderrama to St. Ildefonso; the Palace, Waters, and Garden of La
Granja; Road to Segovia; its Remains, and Present Condition;
Expensiveness of Royal Honours; Return to Madrid.
Before leaving Castile for Andalusia, I made two excursions, to objects
well deserving a visit,--the Escurial and Toledo. To the former of
these, I shall dedicate the present chapter.
Having hired a mule and a guide, I left Madrid one charming morning,
before day-break; and passing out of the city by the gate de San
Vincente, I proceeded up the bank of the river Manzanares along a good
road, bordered on both sides by poplars and willows. From this road, the
palace is a striking and beautiful object; and the sun rising shortly
after I had passed the gate, its blaze reflected from the innumerable
windows, produced a magnificent and almost magical effect. A league from
the city, the road, crossing the river, leaves the stripe of scanty
herbage that borders it, and enters upon the wide arid country, that
extends all the way to the foot of the Sierra Guaderrama. Travelling in
any direction from Madrid, there is little to narrate; the country is
wholly devoid of interest; there is scarcely any population; and no
travellers are seen on the road, to relieve its monotony, or attract the
attention.
During four leagues, the road continues to ascend almost imperceptibly,
and then climbs the first of those ridges, that are connected with the
outposts of the Sierra Guaderrama. From the top of the ridge, about four
leagues and a half from Madrid, the Escurial is first seen reposing at
the foot of the dark mountain that forms its back ground; and although
still fourteen miles distant, it appears in all that colossal magnitude
that has helped to earn for it the reputation of being the ninth wonder
of the world. Between this point and the village of San Lorenzo, there
is nothing to interest, excepting the constant view of the Escurial,
increasing in extent, rising in elevation, and growing in magnificence,
as the summit of every succeeding ridge discloses a nearer view of it.
After a ride of seven hours and a half, I arrived in front of the
Escurial a little after mid-day; and dismissing my mule, I immediately
presented myself at the gate with my credentials. These were, a letter
from the Marquesa de Valleverde, to El muy Rev. Padre Buendia; and
another from the Saxon minister, to the Librarian to the Grand Duke of
Hesse Darmstadt, M. Feder, who had been for several months resident in
the Escurial, employed in collating some classical works. The monks
being then at dinner, I declined interrupting the enjoyment of the
Father Buendia, and was ushered into a small apartment in one of the
angles opposite to the Sierra, where I remained about a quarter of an
hour, while the monks continued their repast.
Most persons know that the Escurial was erected by that renowned
monarch, Philip II.,--renowned for his vices, his bigotry, and his
ambition. The reasons assigned by Philip for the erection of this
building are three-fold:--as a token of gratitude to God, on account of
the victory gained over the French at St. Quintin; as an act of devotion
towards the holy martyr San Lorenzo; and in fulfilment of the wish
expressed in the last will of Charles V., that a sepulchre should be
erected wherein to deposit the bones of himself and the empress, the
parents of Philip II. Another, and less ostensible reason assigned by
this religious monarch, was that he might be able to retire at times
from the turmoil of the court; and in the seclusion of a royal
monastery, profit by the lessons of holy men, and meditate upon the
instability of worldly grandeur: and Philip shewed in his practice the
apparent sincerity of this motive; for he was wont often to be an inmate
of the Escurial; and traits of his devotion and humility are yet
related within its walls.
The situation chosen for the Escurial accords well with the gloomy
character of its royal founder. There is no town or city nearer to it
than Madrid, which is thirty-four miles distant; a wild and deserted
country forms its horizon; and the dark defiles and the brown ridges of
the _Sierra Guaderrama_ are its cradle. In the building itself, Philip
royally acquitted himself of his vows; for a structure so stupendous in
its dimensions, or so surpassing in its internal riches, is nowhere to
be found. The building was begun in the year 1563, under the direction
of Juan Bautista de Toledo, and finished in 1584; Juan de Herrera
presiding over the work during several years preceding its completion.
My meditations were interrupted by the welcome entrance of Father
Buendia, whom I found an agreeable and rather intelligent man, although
a great worshipper of the memory of Philip II. I was first conducted
into the church of the monastery, which certainly exceeds in richness
and magnificence any thing that I had previously imagined. It is quite
impossible to enter into minute descriptions of all that composes this
magnificence: the riches of Spain, and her ancient colonies, are
exhausted in the materials;--marbles, porphyries, jaspers, of infinite
variety, and of the most extraordinary beauty,--gold, silver, and
precious stones; and the splendid effect of the whole is not lessened by
a nearer inspection; there is no deception, no glitter,--all is real.
The whole of the altar-piece in the Capilla Mayor, upwards of ninety
feet high and fifty broad, is one mass of jasper, porphyry, marble, and
bronze gilded; the eighteen pillars that adorn it, each eighteen feet
high, are of deep red and green jasper, and the intervals are of
porphyry and marble of the most exquisite polish, and the greatest
variety of colour. It is, in fact, impossible to turn the eye in any
direction in which it does not rest upon the rarest and richest
treasures of nature, or the most excellent works of art; for if it be
withdrawn from the magnificence below, by the splendour of the ceiling
above, it discovers those admirable frescos of Lucas Jordan, which have
earned for him the character of a second Angelo. It would be tedious to
enlarge upon the subject of Jordan’s frescos; they are too numerous
indeed to be described within the limits of a chapter; but they
comprise, it may be said, the whole history of the Christian Religion,
beginning from the Promises, and are excelled only by the works of
Angelo. The battle of St. Quintin, which ornaments the ceiling of the
great stair-case, is considered to be one of the most excellent of
Jordan’s frescos.
Lucas Jordan was born at Naples in the year 1632. His father chanced to
live near Españaletto, who was then in Italy; and Jordan, from infancy,
was constantly in his neighbour’s workshop. At nine years old, he is
said to have made great progress; and at fourteen he ran away from his
father’s house, and went to Rome, where, it is said, his father
following him, found him in the Vatican copying Michael Angelo’s Last
Judgment. At Rome he was the disciple of Pietro de Cortona; and he
afterwards visited Florence, Bologna, Parma, and Venice, where he
improved himself upon the style of Paul Veronese. Subsequently he went
to Rome; but unable to forget Veronese, he again returned to Venice,
where he remained until called to Florence, in 1657, to paint the
cupola of the Capilla Corsini in the church of Carmine. He was
afterwards invited to Spain by Charles II., and arrived in Madrid in
1692; and from that time until his death, his genius was employed in
enriching the palaces and convents of Spain, particularly the Escurial.
Having satisfied my curiosity with the church, and the frescos, I wished
Father Buendia to conduct me to the sacristy, where are to be seen those
glorious creations of the pencil, which have added the charm of beauty,
to the grandeur and magnificence of the Escurial. But my conductor led
me first to the relicary, whose contents were perhaps more valuable in
his eyes than those of the sacristy. In this relicary, there were five
hundred and fifteen vases before the invasion of the French; but their
number is now reduced to four hundred and twenty-two. These vases are of
gold, silver, bronze gilded, and valuable wood; many of them thickly
studded with precious stones: and upwards of eighty of the richest of
these vases still remain. But the French, more covetous of the gold and
silver than of the relics, made sad confusion of the latter; for not
caring to burden themselves with bones, and wood, and dirty
garments, they emptied the little gold and silver vases upon the
floor,--irreligiously mingling in one heap, relics of entirely different
value. The labels indicating the relics having been upon the vases, the
bones, &c. were without any distinguishing mark; so that it was
impossible to discriminate between an arm of St. Anthony, and the arm of
St. Teresa,--or to know a bit of the true cross, from a piece of only a
martyr’s cross,--or a garment of the Virgin Sin Pecada, from one of only
the Virgin of Rosalio: and as for the smaller relics,--parings of nails,
hair, &c. many were irrecoverably lost. But with all this confusion, and
all these losses, the Escurial is still rich in relics. Several pieces
of the true cross yet remain; a bit of the rope that bound Christ; two
thorns of the crown; a piece of the sponge that was dipped in vinegar;
parts of His garments, and a fragment of the manger in which he was
laid. Making every allowance for bigotry and excess of ill-directed
faith, I cannot comprehend the feeling that attaches holiness to some of
these relics: it is impossible to understand what kind of sacredness
that is, which belongs to articles that have been the instruments of
insult to the Divine Being. Besides these relics of our Saviour, there
are several parts of the garments of the Virgin; there are ten entire
skeletons of saints and martyrs; the body of one of the innocents,
massacred by command of Herod; and upwards of a hundred heads of saints,
martyrs, and holy men; besides numerous other bones still
distinguishable.
But the peculiar glory of the Escurial, and its most wondrous relic, is
the Santa Forma, as it is called; in reality, “the wafer,” in which the
Deity has been pleased to manifest himself in three streaks of blood;
thus proving the doctrine of transubstantiation. This relic has been
deemed worthy of a chapel and an altar to itself. These are of
extraordinary beauty and richness; and adorned with the choicest
workmanship: jaspers, marble, and silver are the materials; and _bas
reliefs_, in white marble, relate the history of the Santa Forma; which
is shortly this. It was originally in the cathedral church of Gorcum in
Holland, and certain heretics (Zuinglianos) entering the church, took
this consecrated host, threw it on the ground, trod upon it, and cracked
it in three places. God, to shew his divine displeasure, and at the same
time, as a consolation to the christians, manifested himself in three
streaks of blood, which appeared at each of the cracks. One of the
heretics, struck with the miracle, and repenting of his crime, lifted
the Santa Forma from the ground, and deposited it, along with a record
of the miracle, in a neighbouring convent of Franciscans, who kept and
venerated it long; the delinquent, who abjured his heresy, and who had
taken the habit, being one of their number. From this convent it was
translated to Vienna, and then to Prague; and there its peregrinations
terminated: for Philip II. being a better Catholic than the Emperor
Rodolph, prevailed upon the latter to part with it, and deposited it in
the Escurial; where it has ever since remained. It had a narrow escape
from being again trodden upon, during the French invasion: upon the
approach of the enemy it was hastily snatched from the sacred
depositary, and unthinkingly hid in a wine butt, where it is said to
have acquired some new, and less miraculous stains: and after the
departure of the French, a solemn festival was proclaimed on the 14th of
October, 1814; upon which occasion, his present majesty, assisted by all
his court, and by half the friars of Castile, rescued the Santa Forma
from its inglorious concealment, and deposited it again in the chapel
which the piety of Charles II. had erected for it. The Santa Forma is
not shewn to heretics; but its history is related: and it was evident,
by the manner of the friar who related it to me, that he placed implicit
belief in the miraculous stains.
Besides the general relicary and the peculiar chapel for the Santa
Forma, there is another smaller relicary, called the Camarin, into which
Father Buendia conducted me. Here I was shewn an earthen pitcher, one of
those which contained the water that Jesus turned into wine; and affixed
to the pitcher, there is a writing, narrating the manner in which the
vessel found its way into the Escurial. I was also shewn three caps of
Pope Pius V.; and a stone which was taken from his Holiness’ bladder;
besides several manuscripts written by the hand of St. Teresa, and St.
Augustin; and the ink-horn of the former saint.
I might still have been gratified by the sight of more relics; but I was
anxious to visit the sacristy, which contains relics of another kind.
The sacristy itself, in its walls, roof, and floor, equals in beauty,
any part of the Escurial; but the beauty of jaspers and precious stones,
and the excellent workmanship of many rare and beautiful woods, are
unheeded, where attractions are to be found so far excelling them. It is
in the sacristy of the Escurial, where the choicest works of the most
illustrious painters of the great schools are preserved; and of these we
may say, what can rarely be said of any collection, that among the
forty-two pictures that adorn the sacristy, there is not one that is not
a _chef d’œuvre_. Among these, there are three of Raphael, one of them
known all over the world by the name of La Perla; two of Leonardo da
Vinci; six of Titian, and many of Tintoretto, Guido, Veronese, and other
eminent masters. La Perla represents the Virgin embracing the infant
Jesus, with her right arm round his body, while he rests his feet upon
her knee; the Virgin’s left hand lies upon the shoulder of Saint Anne,
who kneels at her daughter’s side; her elbow resting upon her knee, and
her head supported by her hand. The child, St. John, offers fruits to
the infant Christ in his little garment of camel-skin; and Jesus
accepting them, turns at the same time his smiling face towards his
mother, who is looking at St. John. Such is the subject of La Perla, a
picture that would have placed Raphael where he now stands among the
illustrious dead, even if he had never painted the Transfiguration,--any
critique upon a painting of Raphael would be impertinent. While I was
occupied with the treasures of the sacristy, a bell rang for prayers;
and as it was contrary to the rules of the monastery to leave the door
of the sacristy open, I was locked in, while Father Buendia went to his
devotions. This was precisely the most agreeable thing that could have
happened: a large chair, which looked as old as the days of Philip II.,
stood below the altar of the Santa Forma; and drawing it into the middle
of the sacristy, and sitting down, I spent the next half-hour
luxuriously; not as might have been imagined, in admiration of the
immortal works around me; but in a waking dream, that carried me away
from the Escurial, and back to the days of boyhood, when throwing aside
my Horace, I used to seize an old book, which I have never seen since
then, called “Swinburne’s Travels,” and devour the descriptions of the
Escurial; its immensity, its riches, its monks, its tomb of the
kings,--not its pictures, for I was then ignorant of even the name of
Raphael,--but this knowledge came later, and all was blended together in
this delicious reverie, which was in fact a vision of the Escurial, as
imagination had pictured it in bygone days. But the great key, entering
the door, annihilated twenty years, and brought me where I was, seated
in the great chair in the sacristy of the Escurial; and after another
glance at the pictures, I followed Father Buendia to the old church and
the cloister; but in passing to these, we entered the Hall of
Recreation, or as it is called, La Sala Prioral. Here the monks assemble
at certain hours, to converse, and enjoy each other’s society; and for
this purpose, they have made choice of the most comfortable room in the
monastery. Although in Spain, and only the beginning of September, a
stove was lighted; benches, and even some stuffed chairs, were scattered
here and there. The windows look over the garden and fish-ponds, from
which, on meagre days, the worthy fathers contrive to eke out a repast;
and the walls of the hall are adorned by some most choice pictures by
Peregrini, Guercino, Titian, Guido; among others, a half-clothed
Magdalen, by Titian,--scarcely a suitable study for these holy men; and,
“Magdalen at the Feet of Jesus:” ascribed to Correggio, but which,
Mengs, in his notices of the life and works of Correggio, supposes to
have been left imperfect by that master, and to have been finished by
another hand: but it is, at all events, a charming picture.
From the _Sala Prioral_, we went to the _Iglesia Vieja_, which is
remarkable only on account of its pictures; among which, is one of
Raphael: and from the Iglesia Vieja, I was next conducted through the
cloisters, also adorned with pictures, to the great Library. This is a
magnificent room; the ceilings in fresco, by Peregrini and Carducho,
represent the progress of the sciences; the floor is of chequered grey
and white marble; and the finest and rarest woods encase the windows,
the doors, and the books. The library is more curious than extensive; it
does not contain more than 24,000 volumes, but many of these are scarce;
and among others, they shew a copy of the Apocalypse of St. John, with a
commentary, and illuminated borders, and the devotional exercises of
Charles V., &c. The day was almost spent before I reached the library;
the light streamed but dimly through the deep windows; and the portraits
of Charles, and his son,--the gloomy-minded founder of the
monastery,--frowned darkly from the walls. It was too late to examine
the Manuscript Library; and making an appointment with Father Buendia
for the morning, I left the Escurial for the Posada, where I had ordered
a bed, and a late dinner. I was offered both refreshments and a bed, in
the monastery; but having a better opinion of the dinner I had ordered
than of a supper in the refectory, (for it chanced to be Friday), I
forced an excuse upon the reverend father.
Although it was almost night within the Escurial, I found day without.
It was yet too early to expect dinner at the Posada; and therefore,
skirting the small straggling village of _San Lorenzo_, I climbed up
among the defiles and ridges of the sierra that forms the back-ground to
the monastery and its tributary village. The sun had already set, and
dusk was creeping over the distant landscape; and, excepting the vast
and magnificent building below, there was scarcely a trace of human
existence, for a ridge of the sierra shut out the little village of San
Lorenzo: and the only sound I heard, was the bell from the monastery. To
me, there is nothing poetic in a convent bell; it only reminds me of
bigotry and ignorance, absurd penance, or sinful hypocrisy. It was
almost dark before I reached the Posada, where I had the pleasure of
passing an agreeable evening with M. Feder, whom I have spoken of
already, and must always speak of, as a learned and an amiable man.
Next morning, I again claimed the good offices of Father Buendia, and
was conducted by him to “the Tomb of the Kings;” perhaps the most
magnificent sepulchre in the world. It is impossible to conceive any
thing more gorgeous than this mausoleum: the descent is by a deep
staircase, underneath the great altar of the church; the walls of the
staircase being entirely of blood-jasper, of the utmost beauty and
polish. The mausoleum itself is circular; the walls are of jasper, and
black marble: and in rows, one over another, are ranged the coffins of
the kings of Spain. They are all here, these masters of a hemisphere! a
little dust in these gorgeous urns, is all that remains of the mighty
kings whose deeds fill volumes--of Charles, who kept the world in a
flame, and left it for a cloister,--of Philip, for whose ambition and
crimes it was too narrow. Death certainly owns no other palace like
this. The queens of Spain are not all here; only those who have given
birth to an heir to the throne. There are eight kings, and eight queens,
on opposite sides of the mausoleum; and a splendid urn stands empty and
open, destined to receive the present inheritor of the throne, who, when
he visits the Escurial, never fails to enter his tomb, there to receive,
if not to profit by, a lesson upon the duties of kings, and the common
destinies of all. A lamp, always burning, is suspended from the centre
of the mausoleum, giving just sufficient light to make legible the names
of its owners, inscribed in gold letters upon a bronze tablet. I did not
enter the Pantheon of the Infantas, which contains no fewer than
fifty-nine urns.
From the mausoleum, I was conducted to the Manuscript library, which is
far more valuable than the other. Although, previous to the
conflagration in 1671, it contained many more treasures than it does
now, it is still one of the most valuable manuscript libraries in
Europe. The number of manuscripts yet preserved there, exceeds 4000;
nearly one half of the whole being Arabic, and the rest in Latin, Greek,
Hebrew, and the vulgar tongues. I shall name a very few of the most
remarkable. There are two copies of the Iliad, of the tenth and twelfth
centuries; but these are not scarce; and indeed, a very great number of
the manuscripts are copies of originals preserved in the libraries of
Italy. There are many fine and ancient Bibles, particularly in Greek;
and one Latin copy of the Gospels, of the eleventh century. There are
two books of ancient councils, in Gothic characters, and illuminated;
the one of the year 976, called the Codigo Vigilano, because written by
a monk called Vigilia; the other of the year 994, written by a priest
named Velasco. A very ancient Koran is also shewn; and a work of some
value, written in six large volumes, as it is said by the command of
Philip II., upon the Revenues and Statistics of Spain. But the most
ancient manuscript is one of poetry, written in the Longobardic, and
dated as far back as the ninth century. The Arabic manuscripts are also
many and curious; and the manner in which these came into the hands of
the Spaniards was accidental. Pedro de Lara being at sea, met some
vessels carrying the equipage of the Moorish king Zidian: these vessels
he fought with, and took; and found among other precious things, more
than three thousand Arabic manuscripts. The Moorish king, subsequently
offered sixty thousand ducats for their restitution; but the overture
was rejected, and restitution was promised only on condition that the
whole of the Christian captives should be released; but this demand not
being complied with, the manuscripts were sent to the Escurial.
The monks of the Escurial live too much at their ease to acquire habits
of study. The monks in the olden time were not altogether useless; for
to their industry and perseverance we owe the preservation and
multiplication of many of the most esteemed authors of antiquity: but
the friars of the present day have sadly degenerated; they make no use
of the treasures which their convents contain; and of this truth, the
monks of the Escurial afford a lamentable example. A gentleman with whom
I am acquainted, and who passed the whole of every day during three
months in the library of the Escurial, assured me that all that time,
not one friar ever entered to ask for, or examine a book. I am
acquainted with another proof of the ignorance or idleness of the monks
of the Escurial. A literary society in one of the German states, being
desirous of publishing the works of the elder Pliny, and believing that
some assistance might be obtained from the library of the Escurial,
applied to the Spanish government upon the subject; and orders were
accordingly given to the librarian of the Escurial, to search, and to
report upon the works of Pliny contained in the library. An answer was
given, that it contained no complete or useful work of Pliny,--but only
an abbreviation. A literary gentleman, however, from the same German
state, having obtained access to the library for other purposes, found
two perfect copies of Pliny’s Natural History. It is scarcely possible
to suppose that the librarian could have been ignorant of the existence
of these; and the only alternative therefore is, that he denied any
knowledge of them, from the dread of receiving some command that might
interfere with his love of idleness.
At present there are one hundred monks in the monastery of the Escurial;
and from all that I could learn, they have no great reason to complain
of their lot. The order of St. Geronimo, to which they belong, is not
one of the strict orders: it allows a good table and uninterrupted rest;
and prescribes few fasts, and probably no penance. Each monk has at
least two apartments, and a small kitchen where a little _refresco_ may
be prepared at any time, without troubling the cooks below. There are
many fine terraces round the building, and a tolerably shady garden,
where the fathers have the benefit of air, without hard exercise; and in
the fish ponds, there is an inexhaustible source of amusement, in which
the king, when he visits the Escurial, condescends to join every day
after dinner. I saw no monk, who did not seem contented; and although
with the opportunities which they enjoy, they are both idle and
ignorant, I found them tolerably well informed upon common topics, and
greatly interested in the news of the day. It would seem, however, that
they have not much access to know what passes in the world; for one of
their number preferred a request to me, that before leaving Madrid, I
would write him a letter containing the latest news from France, and
from the frontier: scarcely any one but a monk dared have made such a
request; but the friars are a privileged class.
The palace adjoining the monastery, is scarcely worth a visit after
seeing the magnificence of the latter: any where else, it would be a
splendid edifice. I merely walked through the apartments. Altogether,
although the Escurial be scarcely entitled to the appellation of the
ninth wonder of the world; it is confessedly the most wonderful edifice
in Europe, whether in dimensions or riches. To give some better idea of
these, than a general description can convey, I shall add the following
short enumeration.
In the Escurial, there are fifty-one bells; forty-eight wine cellars;
eighty staircases; seventy-three fountains; eight organs; twelve
thousand windows and doors; and eighteen hundred and sixty rooms. There
are fifteen hundred and sixty oil paintings; and the frescos, if all
brought together, would form a square of eleven hundred feet. The
circumference of the building, is 4800 feet--nearly three quarters of a
mile.
From a book kept in the monastery, containing an account of the sums
expended on the building, &c., I made the following extracts, which may
be esteemed by some, as curious. The mason-work of the monastery cost
5,512,054 reals; the marbles, porphyries, and jasper employed on the
church, cost 5,343,825 reals; the labour of placing each square on the
floor, thirteen reals; the painting of the church, including the frescos
of Jordan, 291,270 reals; the organs 295,997 reals; the workmanship of
the choir (the king having presented the wood) 266,200 reals; the two
hundred and sixteen volumes used in the choir, 493,284 reals; the whole
of the bronze railings 556,828 reals; the wood, lead, bells and gilding
of the church, 3,200,000 reals; the paintings of the library, 199,822
reals; the ornaments of the sacristy, 4,400,000 reals; the materials of
the mausoleum, 1,826,031 reals. This is but a very small part of the
cost of the edifice, because here are none of the gold and silver
ornaments, urns, or precious stones; none of the bronze, except the
railings; none of the oil paintings; nor almost any part of the
workmanship. I have stated the cost in reals, as it appears in the book;
but any of the sums divided by 100, will give the value in pounds
sterling nearly, though not precisely.
After having seen all that merits observation in the interior of the
building, I walked over the terraces and gardens, where I met many of
the holy fathers taking their evening promenade, several with segars in
their mouths; and then leaving the garden, I extended my walk to a
country house which the present king built and adorned: there is nothing
regal about the place, excepting a picture of his majesty.
My intention being to pass the Sierra Guadarrama to visit St. Ildefonso
and Segovia, I inquired for a mule at the village where I slept; but the
price demanded was so exorbitant--no less than six dollars each day,
besides the maintenance of the guide--that I resolved to save the
expense altogether, by being a pedestrian, and my own guide. This
determination, I however kept to myself, because it is never prudent in
Spain, to publish an intention of making a solitary journey.
Next morning, I left the Escurial at the earliest dawn; and following
the only road I saw leading to the North, I soon found myself ascending
among the ridges of the Sierra. The sun rose when I had walked about an
hour. The morning was fresh, and even chill; but the sky was blue and
cloudless, the sunshine bright, and the air bracing and elastic; the
road, too, became more interesting as I ascended higher,--entering into
the heart of the mountain, and abounding in those mountain views, which
have so many charms beyond the dull monotony of a plain. I did not meet
a single traveller during the first three hours; and I passed three
crosses, one of them recording a murder committed so lately as the year
1828, upon a merchant of Segovia. About four leagues from the Escurial,
I passed a small house, situated in a little hollow, at a short distance
from the road; and although I should have been glad to rest awhile, and
take what refreshment the house afforded, its situation was so solitary,
and the scenery around so desolate, that I judged it safer to continue
my journey. Shortly after passing this house, I reached the Puerto de
Fuenfria, the summit of the Sierra; taking its name, “Pass of the Cold
Fountain,” from some icy springs that bubble near; from one of which I
took a long and refreshing draught. The scenery here is of the wildest
description. The mountain is full of deep cuts and ravines, most of them
the courses of winter torrents; aged and stunted pines hang upon their
edges, and are strewn upon the brown acclivities around; while bare,
huge, misshapen rocks project over the path, and often force it to skirt
the brink of giddy and undefended precipices. When the Pass lays open
the view to the north of the Sierra, the prospect is fine and extensive;
but anxious to reach St. Ildefonso, I scarcely paused to survey it; and
in less than two hours more, I delivered my letter to Don Mateo Frates,
governor of the palace.
The palace of St. Ildefonso, or as it is more commonly called in Spain,
La Granja, was built by Philip V., who undoubtedly made a better choice
than his predecessor, the founder of the Escurial; for if a cool breeze
is any where to be found in Spain during the heat of summer, it is at
St. Ildefonso that it must be sought. It is placed in a spot where the
mountains fall back, leaving a recess sheltered from the hot air of the
south, and from much of its sun; but exposed to whatever breeze may be
wafted from the north. The immediate acclivity towards the south, is
occupied by the garden, which, although somewhat formal in the immediate
neighbourhood of the palace, is full of shade and coolness. Almost every
one has heard of the waters of La Granja; these were politely offered to
be displayed for my amusement; but artificial water-works have no great
charms for me; and besides, when we see the fountains, it is not
difficult to fancy the play of the waters. I have no doubt, however,
that the effect is striking; and during the heats of summer, so many
jets must produce an agreeable influence upon the surrounding
atmosphere. The fountains and falls are innumerable; one of them, Fame
seated on Pegasus, raises a jet to the height of one hundred and
thirty-two feet; and in another spot, called the Plazuela de las ocho
Calles, eight fountains unite, forming a beautiful and chaste temple of
the Ionic order, adorned by columns of white marble. The expense of
constructing the garden of La Granja has been enormous; it has generally
been computed to amount to upwards of seven millions sterling.
The principal front of the palace faces the garden; it is one hundred
and eighty yards long, and in every respect palace-like; but it struck
me as being too large, too formal, and too fine, to be in perfect
keeping with the surrounding scenery; the wild defiles of the Sierra
Guadarrama required a different kind of palace. The interior is in every
thing regal; and is adorned by some choice works of the first masters;
though many which formerly belonged to this palace have been removed to
the Madrid museum.
In speaking of St. Ildefonso, let me not omit to mention the renowned
manufactory of mirrors; which are, at all events, the largest, if not
the finest in the world. The mould in which the largest are made, is
thirteen feet and a half one way, seven feet nine inches the other, and
six inches deep. Some of the mirrors made at St. Ildefonso, have found
their way into most of the royal palaces of Europe.
I supped luxuriously upon venison, and accepted a bed in the palace; but
before retiring to it, I had the pleasure of partaking of a bottle of
_Val de Peñas_ from the king’s cellar. This is a wine of which no idea
can be formed, judging of it by the samples commonly found either in the
public or private houses of Madrid. Like many other of the Spanish
wines, it requires age to mellow it; and it has besides most commonly
acquired, less or more, a peculiar flavour from the skins in which it
is brought from La Mancha. The king’s wine is no doubt carried in some
other fashion.
Segovia is only two leagues from La Granja, and I had intended to have
been there to an early breakfast; but whether it be that one sleeps
sounder in a palace than elsewhere, or that Val de Peñas is of a
soporific quality, it is certain, that in place of awaking as usual
before day-break, half the mountain was bathed in sunbeams when I looked
out of my window. I found a good breakfast of coffee and its adjuncts (a
rare luxury in Spain) waiting me below; and I also found that a horse
and a servant were in readiness to facilitate my transport to Segovia. I
would willingly have dispensed with this kindness; for although I have
no objection to a horse, guides and attendants of every kind are my
abhorrence; but there was no escape,--and I left La Granja mounted and
escorted.
The road betwixt La Granja and Segovia, is particularly pleasing: it
lies along the ridges of the Sierra,--ascending and descending, and
catching every moment charming views both of mountain scenery, and of a
more cultivated and living landscape. The morning was beautiful, even
for Spain, where all the mornings are beautiful; and I went no faster on
my royal charger than if I had been on foot,--often pausing to admire
the surrounding prospects: these did not rise into the sublime, nor
could they be classed with the beautiful or the romantic; but they were
varied and agreeable--soothing and exhilarating by turns: deep silent
valleys, running up into the mountains, spotted with pine, and covered
with the enamel of beauteous heaths; streams, glancing like liquid
silver, or spreading over little hollows, gleaming like mirrors set in a
rugged frame; smooth knolls, grown over with aromatic plants and
flowering shrubs; and herds of gentle deer, raising their heads,
advancing at a short run, and then stopping to gaze at me as I passed
by. These deer, however, so beautiful to look at, are a scourge to this
part of the country, which is in most parts susceptible of cultivation;
and which, but for the license allowed these favourite animals, might
yield an abundant produce.
The first sight of the celebrated aqueduct disappointed me; because it
merges imperceptibly among the houses; but if contemplated in its
individual parts, and followed throughout its range, it rises into that
consequence which has been universally accorded to it. It contains no
fewer than one hundred and fifty-nine arches; its length is seven
hundred and fifty yards; and the height, in crossing the valley, is
ninety-five feet. I will not, however, avow an enthusiasm which I did
not feel. The celebrated aqueduct of Segovia failed to make so strong an
impression upon me as the _Pont de Garde_, near Nismes. This I must ever
look upon as one of the most majestic and striking relics of antiquity
now extant.
I regret that I was tempted to avail myself of an opportunity of
returning to Madrid, which left me too little time to devote to Segovia.
I arrived in Segovia about mid-day, and chanced to learn that a
_gallero_, on springs, would leave Segovia next morning, at four
o’clock, and reach Madrid the same day. To walk once from the Escurial
to Segovia, was rather desirable than otherwise, but a repetition of the
walk would have been tedious; and as no other conveyance was likely to
leave Segovia for some days, I agreed to be the fifth passenger, and had
therefore only a few hours to devote to Segovia. But this time sufficed
for the aqueduct, the cathedral, and the alcazar. The cathedral did not
strike me as being particularly interesting; and with the recollection
which I now have before me, of Toledo and Seville, the cathedral of
Segovia seems scarcely worth a notice. The Alcazar pleased me more; but
this too, after subsequently seeing the Alhambra of Granada, appears
insignificant.
Segovia is a decayed city, like most of the other cities of Spain; and
if considered with reference to its former opulence and consequence, its
decay is the more striking. Two hundred years ago, the cloth manufactory
of Segovia gave employment to 34,000 hands, and consumed nearly 25,000
quintals of wool; fifty years ago, these were reduced to a sixth part;
and now, the manufactory is in a state of perfect abeyance, the trade
having been chiefly transferred to the kingdom of Valencia. In this
city, of twenty-five parishes, and containing twenty-one convents, the
inhabitants scarcely reach ten thousand.
The Posada in Segovia, I found remarkably bad; and the posadero seemed
resolved to give at least a fictitious value to his articles, by the
high price which he set upon them. As I was to leave Segovia at the
early hour of four, I called for la cuenta before going to bed; and to
my astonishment, three dollars were demanded for my stewed rabbit, and a
room so full of mosquitos that I spent half the night in planning
warfare, and the other in executing slaughter. I told him no one would
travel in his country, if all the innkeepers charged travellers as he
did,--such charges would ruin any body. And now the secret of his
exorbitant demand came out. “Oh, but,” said he, “poor travellers don’t
ride upon the king’s horses, escorted by the king’s servants;” and so my
royal bearer, and his royal attendant, cost me two dollars. I paid my
money, and consoled myself with thinking that it was probably the last
time I might bear a resemblance to majesty.
At the appointed hour I took my place in the gallero, smarting with
mosquito bites, and glad to rest from the work of destruction; and after
a drive along a road which I already knew, I found myself in my
apartment in the Calle de la Madelina a little after dusk.