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.