May 15, 1937
THE STATE
Роде
Three
The Castle of Dreams
TWO Spanish lovers built a
eastle near Itlaek Mountain
in which they hoped to real¬
ize their dreams, hut Death
interfered with their plans.
«1/
HOYT .McAEEE
and
ELEAYOItE CIIEAOW KTII
Part of the Guastavino castle, showing the clock and bell
tower. The building is now in a bad state of repair.
ONE of the most interesting
places in Western North Caro¬
lina — and one that is known to
comparatively few people — b the
crumbling old Spanish Castle near the
town of Ulack Mountain.
Equally interesting i' the enigmati¬
cal mistress of the establishment. Her
name i» Mr*. France. Guastavino and
abc b the widow of Raphael Guasta-
vino, an energetic and resourceful
Spaniard. For many years lie was an
expert tile-marker for the Biltmore
Estate. As an architect, he designed
the unique elliptical dome of St.
Lawrence Catholic Church, Asheville,
but the work in which he took the
greatest intercut and over which he
labored untiringly was the erection
of thin Spanish Castle for himself and
hb devoted wife.
"Labor Priina Virtu.," (Labor is
the Chief Virtue) was his guiding
motto, and he scrawled it at the bot¬
tom of the Wl-towcr of his castle,
where its somewhat blurred letters may
be read by the visitor to this day.
Just above that sign is u clock which
no longer runs. The hands point to
a few minutes before eight: the hour
at which Mr. Guastavino died more
than a wore of years ago. Surmount¬
ing the clock and banging in n weather¬
beaten tower b a rusty bell, the tolling
of which once served to call laborers
on the estate to their luncheons.
A Man of Vision
Senior Guastavino was a man of
vision. He dreamt of building a place
which would be beautiful in every de¬
tail. He and his wife spent many
pleasurable hours in planning the
estate, hut the So nor died ere tho finish¬
ing touches could be applied to the
Spanish Castle. And with his death,
all work slopped.
All
в!н>ш
the grounds today may
lie ‘ecu evidences of his energy and
his love for the beautiful— the slug¬
gish, weed-clogged artificial lake di¬
rectly in front of the caMle; a picnic
house in the rear; a playground on
the liillslope dominating the place,
and servants' quarters scattered in the
wooded area behind it.
Since her husband's death, Mrs.
Guastavino ha. let the unfinished castle
and the surrounding buildings sink into
a sad state of disrepair. She adored
her husband, and when he passed away,
her world crashed about her. She
no longer took an interest in the
buildings or grounds and she bas never
fully recovered from the shock of her
great loss.
Over the long imriod of years sub¬
sequent to Mr. UtUstavino’s death, she
has drawn deeper and deeper into her
shell of .cclusion. You can tell from
studying her wistful, rare-lined face
that a great sadness b upon her; a
sadness all the more pathetic because
at times she attempts to present a front
of cheerfulness and light-hcartedne»
in the presence of strangers.
She literally lives with her mem¬
ories of those gay, blithesome, departed
days. Before she sit* down to a meal
she places a plate at the spot where
her husband once sat: just as though
she expected him to partake of the meal.
Other Interesting Features
The interior of the castle possesses
many interesting features. There’s
the billiard room which Mr. Guasta-
vino built— exactly in tho same con¬
dition he left it — the ornate dining
room; painting, of colorful seenee
hanging on the walls; dark corridors
giving forth a rather dank atmosphere;
a handsome library filled with musty
volumes, and the chapel where she
and her husband more than one» — be¬
cause they were so much in love with
each other — were rowed amid solemn
and impressive ceremonies.
Through the vast and lonely house
I >atters Mrs. Guastavino, alone with
her dreams. Year after year she cling,
to the quietude of her habitat, crav¬
ing little companionship, seeing an
occasional visitor and sometimes re-
wiving and talking to intimate friends
and a few close relatives.
This fascinating Spanish Castle,
charged with an aura of fantasy and
romnnee, is readily accessible from
Black Mountain. You follow the
smooth-surfaced road in a southeaster¬
ly direction for a distance of a little
more than a mile. Suddenly, on the
left side around a bend in the highway,
looms a wooden gateway- some ten
feet high set in a wire fence. You
alight, squirm through the side of
the gate, inspect the brick and wooden
guard-house inside and then let your
eyes roam the length of a picturesque
lane over which the branches of slender
trees arch part of the way.
To it* upper end you walk, and then
you turn to the left, ascending a facade
and reaching the cemented front yard
of the castle. You stare at tho barred,
•buttered oriel windows and note tho
(Continued on page eighteen)
