Chapter X: Café Life of the Madrileños 166 (3)

Emilia Pardo de Bazan deplores the decay of the literary circles and salons for which the city was once renowned; “of literary gatherings at private houses or in splendid palaces we might say there are none.” Circles there are, it is true, she adds, but few of them of greater circumference than a tea-table. Yet young writers still seek Madrid, bringing with them plays or novels, which, in most cases, are never given to the public. “There are in Madrid,” continues this authoress, “more producers than, in proportion, consumers, and the proletariat of the pen suffers the bitter consequences of this painful position.”

The first newspaper printed in the city was the “Gaceta de Madrid,” which was founded in 1661. It was first issued annually as a news-sheet, but in 1667 the journal appeared each Saturday. The title of the paper was frequently changed, and at one time it was the official organ of the Court, and sold on the account of “the king our lord.” Later, the “Gaceta” was issued twice a week, and in 1808 it was made a daily publication. With one or two interruptions, the “Gaceta” has been printed in Madrid since 1661.

The pioneer of modern journalism was Don Francisco Mariano Nifo, who started the “Diario” in 1758. Nifo sold the journal in 1759, and the title was altered to the “Diario noticioso Universal,” and later, to its present title, “Diario official de Avisos de Madrid.” In 1825 the “Diario” became an official newspaper by royal decree.

The establishment of political journalism dates from 1806; the “Imparcial” was then founded, as well as many other journals which had short histories. The present “El Imparcial” dates from 1867, and “La Correspondencia” and “El Dia” began to be issued about the same time. “La Epoca” was born in 1848.

The more solid reviews published in Madrid are the “Lectura,” and the “Ateneo.” “España Moderna,” “Nuestro Tiempo,” “Cultura,” and “Blanco y Negro,” a well illustrated magazine, are produced in Madrid. The city has certainly given birth to a very large number of periodicals, for from 1865 to 1878 no less than 1130 issued from the press.

Students of the literary history of Spain will find many interesting links with the past in the National Library. Here are numerous editions of “Don Quixote,” and a collection of old manuscripts, including a beautiful Visigothic work of the tenth century, and the “Siete Partidas” of Alfonso the Wise. There are several autographs of Lope de Vega and other Spanish authors in the collection.

VI

CHURCHES AND PUBLIC BUILDINGS

Among the monumental remains of Madrid there is scarcely a memory of the Moorish days. In the church of San Pedro we shall find an example of _Mudejar_ architecture, that is, the work of the “reconciled” Moriscos, who remained in Spain down to the final expulsion. San Pedro dates from the fourteenth or fifteenth century, and is the oldest church in the city. The tower is square and plain, in the Moorish form, with small windows.

The Gothic church of San Jeronimo el Real was built in 1503, and restored in 1879. During the French invasion the treasures of this church were despoiled. Here the ceremony of taking the constitutional oath by the heir-apparent is celebrated, and in this church was performed the marriage ceremony of the present king of Spain.

The Capilla del Obispo has a fine carved retablo, or altarpiece, in the Renaissance style, and several interesting statues and marble tombs. There is also a beautifully carved doorway to the chapel.

Antonio Sillero designed the Convent of the Descalzas Reales, which was founded by the Princess Juana, daughter of Charles V. A part of the original building remains, dating from 1559. In the chapel is a statue of the foundress by Leoni. The front of the present church was designed by Diego Villanueva.

The church of the Convent of the Incarnation is of the time of Philip III., the classic façade representing the style of architecture at the Escorial Palace. Within are some paintings by Carducho. San Francisco el Grande is undoubtedly the finest church in Madrid. The building is partly modelled from the plan of the Pantheon at Rome; and the objects of interest are the fine carved doors, the sculptured figures within by Benlliure and Bellver, and some modern fresco paintings.

San Isidro is named after the patron saint of the city, and was erected in the years between 1626-51. The interior is exceedingly ornate, with gilt carvings, and niches containing images of saints. There are some noteworthy paintings in this church, including works by Rizi, Morales and Palomino, and a putative Titian. The picture by Morales, “Jesus and St Peter,” is considered one of the finest examples of this artist’s skill.

In the church of San Andrés there are some fine marble carvings, and pictures by Carreño and Rizi. The Capilla del Obispo is behind this church. San Antonio is noted for its frescoes of scenes from the life of its patron saint, painted by Juan Carreño. The _baroque_ style is seen in the church of San Luis (1679)--especially in the carved retablo.

Close to the Puente Verde is the Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida, whose dome was decorated with frescoes by Goya. The satirical painter was engaged by the church to paint this dome with appropriate subjects, and in sombre jest he chose his models for pious characters among the _manolas_, or half-reputable women, of Madrid. The paintings are of exceptional interest, and well represent the spirit of the grimly facetious painter.

The finest specimen of baroque architecture in the city is the church of Santa Barbara, now adjoining the Palace of Justice, and formerly the church of a convent founded in the time of Ferdinand VI. The building is in the form of a cross, with towers, and an ornamental façade. The dome is decorated with frescoes, and the marble altarpiece is especially graceful. Olivieri carved the figures of St Ferdinand, St Barbara, and Faith and Charity on the retablo. The tomb of Ferdinand VI. by Sabatini is in the transept. There is also a monument to General O’Donnell, designed by Jeronimo Suñol.

San Ginés should be seen for the picture of the “Scourging of Christ” by Alonso Cano, and a statue of Christ by Vergara.

Madrid compares unfavourably with other capitals as regards buildings. Of late years a good many new edifices have arisen, but these are massive and pretentious rather than imposing.

The Plaza Mayor--originally the market-place of Madrid--is historically interesting as the scene of numerous autos de fé and bull-fights, while the architecture of the Casa Panaderia should be examined. The building contains pictures by Coello. In the middle of the square is the statue of Philip III. on horseback, cast in bronze, and the work of Juan de Bologna and his pupil Tacca.

A monument of the time of Philip IV. is seen in the offices of the Ministry of State, formerly a prison. It was designed by the Italian Bautista Crescenti, with figures by Herrera. The Town Hall is seventeenth century, with a good façade, and a fine staircase. In the oratory of this building are pictures by Palomino.

Very little remains of the old palace of the Buen Retiro, which has been converted into the Artillery Museum. The Palacio del Congreso (House of Commons), finished in 1850, is Corinthian in style. There is a fine allegorical group by Ponzano, who also designed the lions on the front. Within, there are frescoes of historic scenes.

The largest square in Madrid is the Plaza de Oriente, constructed by order of Joseph Buonaparte. There are fourteen immense statues of kings in this open space, and a beautiful fountain with lions in bronze. The equestrian statue of Philip IV. is by Tacca, from a painting by Velazquez; its equilibrium is said to have been determined by Galileo.

The Museum of Archæology, already mentioned, has many objects of antiquity dating from prehistoric times. There are a number of Roman remains, Moorish relics, treasures from China and Mexico, and curiosities of many kinds.

In “Castilla La Nueva” Don Jose Quadrado refers to the old door of the Monte de Piedad, in the Plaza de las Descalzas, as an interesting relic. It is surmounted with a very ornate bell, and there are two female torsos, and some good carving on the frontage.

Six miles from Madrid is the royal hunting lodge of El Pardo. The building was erected in the time of the Emperor, and reconstructed by Charles III. It stands on high ground in a fine park. The walls are adorned within with many interesting fresco paintings--the work of Velazquez, Bayeu, Ribera, and other less notable artists; and there are tapestries from designs by Goya and Teniers.

Aranjuez, thirty miles from Madrid, is a royal residence of very great historical interest, for it was here that Charles V. and Philip II. spent many hours of retirement. The palace contains pictures by Mengs, Bayeu, Maella and Lopez. The Gabinete de China is lavishly decorated with porcelain, and is a wonderful example of this style of ornamentation, introduced to Spain by the Italian Gricci.

The gardens at Aranjuez are exceedingly beautiful, some parts of them being formal, and others more wild. A fine avenue fringes the river, and there are fountains and statues in the grounds. The Countess D’Aulnoy, describing Aranjuez, writes: “I must confess the Gardens are too close and several of their alleys too narrow, but yet it ravishes one to walk there, and at our coming into them, I fancy’d myself in some enchanted Palace. The morning was cool, everywhere the Birds made a sweet melody, and the waters a pleasant murmuring Noise! the Trees and Hedges were loaden with excellent Fruit, and the Parterres were covered with most odoriferent Flowers; and I enjoyed all this in most pleasant Company.”

The trees in the avenue at Aranjuez are of great age, with immense trunks and dense foliage, testifying to the fertility of the soil. In the Garden of the Primavera flowers and fruits flourish, for the summer climate in this sheltered region is almost tropical, though the surrounding hills are bare and unfertile. Innumerable nightingales haunt the gardens and groves in the springtime.

THE ROYAL ARMOURY

If the Prado is surpassed by one or two other galleries, Madrid can boast a collection of arms and armour which is eclipsed by no other. The Imperial Armoury of Vienna can alone be compared with this magnificent storehouse of the triumphs of a forgotten craft, the inception of which is due to Philip II. The Emperor Charles, Lord of Germany and Italy, was able to command the services of the greatest armourers of his own or any age. By stimulating the rivalry of the famous Colmans of Augsburg and the not less celebrated Negrolis of Milan, he brought the armour-smith’s art to its highest pitch of development--and this, too, at a time when new tactics and artillery seemed likely to drive it for ever from the field. The reign of Charles marks the zenith of the craft. The sons of Vulcan ranked among the most admired artists of their time, and the most eminent exponents of the sister arts were proud to embellish and to wait upon the works of their hands.

Yet it was to supply the needs of no mere dilettante that the forges of Augsburg and Milan were kept glowing, that their anvils re-echoed unceasingly with ringing blows. Charles was a mighty War Lord. He used his armour in the tented field, his keen blade was waved aloft in the van of armies; and in times of peace, he yet loved to surround himself with the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. And when he laid aside the helmet for the monk’s cowl, he left his son the finest martial equipment any monarch had ever boasted before or since.

Less of a soldier than his father, Philip II. was not slow to recognise the intrinsic value of the heritage. He ordered a house to be built specially for its reception, thus forming the foundation of a collection, which was added to from year to year by him and his successors. The manufacture of defensive armour practically ceased at the close of the seventeenth century, and the spoils of war became, alas! rarer in the course of the next hundred years. In the uprising against the French in 1808, the Armoury was plundered by the populace in their frantic hunger for weapons against the detested invader, and a year or two later the collection suffered considerably at the hands of the _Rey intruso_.

In the forties, a complete re-arrangement took place by order of Queen Isabella II. A catalogue was issued in 1849, which was useful enough in its way, and made the priceless treasures it enumerated known to the world. But it displayed little critical or antiquarian skill, and perpetuated a score of picturesque and grotesquely misleading attributions. Different pieces were labelled as the sword of Bernardo del Carpio, the falchion of the Cid, the bit of Don Roderic, the helmet of Boabdil, the cuirass of Garcilaso de la Vega, etc. Doubtless in course of time the battle axe of Amadis de Gaul, the horn of Roland, and Mambrino’s helmet would have found their way into the catalogue. Luckily King Alfonso XII., soon after his accession, entrusted the collection to an antiquary of the new school, the late Count of Valencia de Don Juan. Years of labour and research, interrupted by a disastrous fire, resulted in a complete and admirable re-organisation and classification, and in the publication in 1898 of a catalogue which has conferred permanent lustre on the reputation of the erudite compiler.

The collection is in no sense national. Spain, a country famed, from the time of the Romans, all over Europe, for the excellence of its sword-blades and the martial temper of its people, is hardly represented in this knightly arsenal. The major portion of the exhibits proceeded from Italian and Bavarian workshops. Historically the collection is less valuable than our ill-arranged armoury at the Tower. It includes few pieces anterior to the last years of the fifteenth century, and none at all of the fourteenth. The student comes here to view not the evolution, but the highest expression of the armourer’s craft. Those who have the time will of course examine the exhibits piece by piece in the order they are described in the admirable but decidedly bulky catalogue to which I have referred. Those who regard the great armour-smiths as great artists--and such they were--will prefer to examine their works separately and so to familiarise themselves with the technique and style peculiar to each.

Koloman Colman, surnamed “Helmschmied,” was the greatest of the famous Augsburg family. Of the many superb suits he made for Charles, no fewer than seven are in the Royal Armoury. The earliest of these (numbered A. 19) may be identified by the monogram K. D. stamped boldly on the pike-guard of the left shoulder. The letters stand for Karolus Dux, the wearer being at that time (about 1514) only Duke of Burgundy and heir to the crowns of Spain. The suit belongs to the older, more graceful style of the fifteenth century, but the tendency to exaggeration, which, later on, became so pronounced, is seen in the size of the shoulder-guards or pauldrons and of the shoes or sollerets. Every part of the body is protected by plates of steel, except the throat, the armpits, and the space between the tassets or thigh-guards, which are defended with chain-mail. The well-shaped helmet is of the close-fitting armet type, composed of several pieces. The breastplate is ridged down the middle, and decorated with the engraved collar of the Golden Fleece. The combs or elbow pieces are beautifully made, and over the right armpit is one of the pretty round pieces called rondels or palettes. This is missing on the left arm, where the huge pike-guard or pauldron covers the whole shoulder and left breast. Note the detachable lance-rest, engraved with the armourer’s mark and the Double Eagle. The decoration of the suit is chaste and tasteful, the borders of the various pieces being adorned with diamond-shaped reliefs. In itself light and elastic enough for wear in the field, the suit could be strengthened and supplemented at will for the tilt and tournament. The extra pieces are shown on a separate mounted figure (A. 26). The enormous arm-guards are, of course confined to the left or exposed side. Heavy clumsy pieces such as these left less opportunity for a display of the smith’s skill than the barding or horse-armour. This is singularly beautiful and was the work (says the learned author of the catalogue) of Daniel Hopfer, who often assisted Colman. The plates are gilded and etched with devices of the Golden Fleece, the Rose, and the Pomegranate. Hopfer is also credited with the curious concave target to be screwed to the shoulder at tournaments (A. 37), which is trellised or divided by intersecting ridges to break the point of an enemy’s lance. The spaces are engraved with much skill with herons attacking an eagle, which clutches one in its talons. If this, as it seems to be, is an allusion to the alliances promoted by Francis I. against the Emperor after the Treaty of Madrid, it shows that the shield must have been made long after the suit.

The horse-armour of the harnesses (A. 37-38), on the contrary, seems to have been made for the Emperor Maximilian, and were etched by Burgmaier, a celebrated engraver of his time. They are most elaborately decorated. The ear-coverings of the one are shaped like rams’ horns; and the poitrel (or breastplate) is embossed with grotesque faces. The crupper-plates are decorated with compositions representing Biblical episodes--David killing Goliath and Samson slaying the Philistines. If the second suit belonged to the mighty Maximilian, the forehead-plate must have been added later, as it bears the motto “Plus Oultre,” first adopted by Charles.

We come next to the five harnesses made between 1519 and 1539 for the Emperor by the Augsburg firm. They are alike decorated with ornamental bands in the direction of their greatest length and exhibit little difference in design. Two, however, are distinguished by the ugly lamboys or bases, a kilting of armour introduced about this time to satisfy the craze for novelty and extravagance. One of these is called the oak-leaf suit, from the predominant device in the ornamentation. It is Helmschmied’s own work--probably about 1520. The various pieces are distributed over three separate figures (A. 49-56-57). The breastplate becomes globose, the rondels are replaced on both shoulders by the less graceful pike-guards. No less than six extra pieces are shown that could be attached to the helmet. Though we may regret the departure from the elegant simplicity of the older style, our admiration is excited by the exquisite skill displayed in the articulation of the gorget and the bases--made as flexible as if they were of silk. Their plates are detachable, and beneath the steel kilt were worn breeches of the same metal, wonderfully laminated and allowing the utmost freedom to the limbs. The bands common to all the suits exhibit a great variety of detail. Griffins, amorini, nymphs, grotesques, heraldical devices, flowing scrolls, floral emblems, hunting scenes, are all introduced and interwoven with an ingenuity only exceeded by the delicacy of their execution. The helmet at A. 57 is lightly and beautifully relieved with the figures of Centaurs and serpents fighting.

Another beautiful headpiece, of the Burgonet type, is shaped like a dolphin’s head, and blackened and damascened. It is no doubt an example of Hopfer’s skill. The same hand may be traced in the decoration of the armet of the suit numbered A. 75. The reinforcing piece, in the form of an eagle’s head and beak, was in the possession of Sir Richard Wallace, and by him given to his Catholic Majesty.

Helmschmied, who, as Count de Valencia has proved, visited Spain in 1525, died in 1532. The last harness he made for the Emperor (A. 108) illustrates a transition in the fashion of armour. The tassets or hip-plates now extend down to the knee, and tend to assume the “lobster-tail” form as worn by Cromwell’s Ironsides.

Desiderius Colman lacked the genius of his father. On the Cornucopia suit (A. 115-117), so called from the emblem predominating in the decoration, we recognise a close and successful imitation of Helmschmied’s work. The vertical bands were insisted upon by the Emperor, as they apparently added to his height. The figure, A. 164, looks as if he had stepped out of Titian’s picture at the Prado. It is made up of the harness he wore at the battle of Muhlberg in 1547. The pieces are inlaid with gold and delicately etched. Desiderius made this armour in 1544, and immediately after began work upon a suit for Prince Philip, according to designs supplied by Don Diego de Arroyo. The harness differs little from those worn by the Emperor. It is furnished with “bases” and with very flexible articulated leg-armour. The genouillères or separate knee-plates disappear, but the graceful rondels at the armpits, and coudes or elbow pieces are retained. On the next figure is shown a very fine tilting helm in three pieces, and next to this again, a headpiece of the “morion” type fluted and delicately etched.

The suit numbered A. 217-A. 230 should be familiar to visitors to the Prado. Philip, as heir apparent, is shown wearing it in Titian’s picture (No. 454) and by Rubens (No. 1607). The Count of Benavente is represented in it by Velazquez (1090). Designed by Arroyo, the harness, which is composed of more pieces than any other in the collection, was made in 1549. The history of Philip’s magnificent armour (A. 239-A. 242) as related by the Count de Valencia, is of some interest. Hitherto Colman’s superiority to other armourers of the time had been acknowledged only as regarded field and tilting armour--the plainer and tougher work, in short. Burning to eclipse his Milanese competitors in their own line and to produce a harness of the most ornate character, Colman looked about for an assistant and found one in Georg Sigman, an artificer of skill, whom the municipality of Augsburg had hitherto refused to enrol as a master of his craft. Colman promised his powerful influence to the aspirant, and together they turned out the fine suit we see. The cuirass and all the pieces, except the jambs, coudes and vambraces, are composed of overlapping plates. The decoration is tasteful, consisting of longitudinal bands of blackened steel, etched with grotesques and foliage. The coudes are embossed and gilded with female figures upholding the order of the Golden Fleece, attended by warriors. The genouillères are decorated with masks and satyrs. Note the little brayette at the meeting of the limbs, a piece, stupidly enough, rarely shown in English collections. The helmet or burgonet is richly chased with classical compositions, with cartouches, wreaths, and foliage. Upon it the name of Colman and the date 1552 are stamped in full, with the initials and mark of his collaborator.

The spirit of rivalry, of which this noble panoply is the offspring, is expressed very plainly on the shield (A. 241) attached thereto. It is circular, of one piece, blackened, and embossed. Round the boss runs a laurel wreath, with the name of the maker and the date. On the surface are disposed four medallions, encircled by wreaths and designed respectively with allegorical representations of Strength, Victory, Wisdom, and Peace. The intermediate space is lavishly adorned with figures, masks, and foliage, and cartouches. Less skilfully executed are the designs round the rim, where Colman has presumptuously symbolised his supposed triumph over his Milanese competitor by a composition in which a bull overthrows a man bearing a shield marked “Nigrol.” The shield will certainly not bear comparison with the Italian’s work or even with the suit to which it is attached, but in fairness to the German, it must be said that it is evidently unfinished. It wants the grip and the attachments for the lining. The saddle at A. 242 is the finer work, and is adorned with the figure of Aphrodite attended by Cupids. This is the latest specimen of the work of Desiderius Colman preserved to us. He was living in 1575 (says Dr Wendelin Boeheim), but when or where he died we know not.

Little is known of Sigmund Wolf, except that he was living at Landshut in Bavaria as late as 1554, and was the teacher of Franz Grosschedel, another armour-smith of repute. To him is ascribed the harness made for Philip II., and styled the Burgundy Cross suit. The decoration consists in ornamented bands as usual, on the breastplate of one figure being engraved the figure of the Madonna. Another suit by the same maker (A. 243-262) includes no fewer than eighty-five pieces, all of which are not at Madrid. The inordinate number of tilting-pieces show Philip’s fondness for martial exercises. The weight of the armour when complete would have been 37 kilogrammes. The helm is a superb example of Wolf’s skill and the leg armour reveals his eye for symmetry. A manteau d’armes or target is screwed to the left shoulder, as was usual in tilting suits.

The armour with the lobster-tail tassets worn by the ill-fated Infante Carlos, son of Philip II., at the age of thirteen or fourteen, is attributed by Boeheim to Wilhelm von Worms of Nuremberg, and by Valencia (with a greater show of probability, it seems to me) to one of Wolf’s successors and namesakes. It is interesting to remark the difference in size of the left and right pauldrons, a proof that the prince was slightly deformed, as has so often been alleged. It is unfortunate that the armour of our own Richard III. has not been preserved, to set at rest the vexed question of his physical conformation.

The fecundity of Bavaria in great armour-smiths about this time proves the truth of the adage that, given a Mæcenas, Maros will not be wanting. Perhaps the most magnificent suit in the whole armoury is No. A. 270, interesting doubly as having been made for that darling of romance, Dom Sebastian of Portugal, by the gifted craftsman, Anton Peffenhauser of Augsburg.

Boeheim has brought to light several details of this great artificer’s life. Born at Munich in 1525, he was working twenty-two years later in Augsburg, where he married, first Regine Meixner, and secondly twenty years later, Regine Eitler (probably the sister of Susanne Eitler, who married “Helmschmied” in 1565). His skill, and possibly his connection with the Patriarch of the craft, procured Peffenhauser many exalted patrons. In 1566 he was at work on a blackened harness for Kaiser Maximilian II., and ten years later we find him attached to the electoral court of Saxony. Specimens of his work are to be seen at Dresden, Vienna, and St Petersburg. The present suit was made about 1576. A medal preserved at Prague portrays Peffenhauser as a man of mature years, stern and dignified in countenance, with a pronouncedly aquiline nose and full beard.

Dom Sebastian’s armour, says the Count of Valencia, is Peffenhauser’s masterpiece, and places him on a level with, if not above, the greatest German armourers of his time. True, he falls into the mistake of over-ornamentation, and his figures are incorrectly designed, but the composition and embossing are bolder than Colman’s, and, above all, his chiselling is of inimitable precision and clearness. As to the style of decoration, on comparing the capricious combinations of figures, scrolls, and other devices, with the designs published by Hefner Altenech, we are inclined to believe that it was the work of Hans Mielich of Munich (born 1516, died 1573), or some other German artist of the same date and equal ability.

The suit consists of burgonet, breastplates, and backplates, gorget, pauldrons, rere and vambraces, coudes, gauntlets, taces, lobster-tail tassets, genouillères, and jambs. The nails, clasps, and plume-holder are gilded. The burgonet, wrought in one piece, is beautifully embossed with allegorical and mythological figures and with a battle-scene in which elephants are introduced--an allusion, doubtless, to the Portuguese conquests in the Indies. Mythological compositions also adorn the longitudinal bands traversing the suit from neck to ankle. The pauldrons, or shoulder-plates, display a bewildering and marvellous profusion of ornamented work. The elbow-guards are adorned with reliefs of the Cardinal Virtues, the knee-plates with beautiful emblematic groups. Thinking of this suit when still brightly burnished and gilded, one fancies that it was thus arrayed that Milton’s archangels went forth to battle for the lordship of the heavens.

It is now time to examine the productions of the Italian schools of armourership. The most formidable competitors of the Augsburg family were the celebrated Missaglias of Milan, who became known exclusively by the name of Negroli from the year 1515 onwards. Herr Boeheim has found traces of a Tommaso da Missaglia, who was working at Milan in 1415. His son, Antonio, made a suit for the last Aragonese King of Naples. Some specimens of his handiwork are to be seen in Vienna. The members of the family with whom “Helmschmied” and his son were called upon to compete were Filippo, Giacomo, and Francesco Negroli. The suit A. 139, forged at Milan in 1539, and worn by Charles V., is surpassed in purity of outline and excellence of workmanship by no other in the collection. There is no trace here of the decadence of the craft. It is at once distinguished from the German suits by the horizontal direction of the bands. It was originally blackened, so as to show up the gold and silver of the decoration. The morion is surmounted by a laurelled comb, on each side of which run wide bands of gold damascening that meet in front to form a fantastic face in relief. Hence the name “de los mascarones” sometimes given to this harness. The date and maker’s names are stamped on the border. Over the helmet could be placed a re-inforcing piece or “coif” shaped like a serpent with scales of gold. The breastplate is adorned with a medallion, containing an image of the Virgin. The shoulder, elbow, and knee pieces all deserve close examination for their admirable enrichment with lions’ heads, scrolls, and foliations.

The skill of the Negrolis must be judged, apart from this suit, by separate pieces of armour. We have, first, the helmet and target presented to the Emperor by the Duke of Mantua in 1533. The former is moulded in the likeness of a human head--said to be Charles’ own--covered with golden curls, and encircled over the brow by a laurel wreath. The beavor is in the form of a curly beard, the lips showing above it. This cleverly executed, but tasteless, helmet bears the name of Negroli, and the date 1533. The target, made to match, has a lion’s head and mane at the boss, and a wide border, where medallions with the Imperial arms are shown upheld by griffins and interwoven amid foliage.

Another Burgonet (D. 30), made for the Emperor by the same hands, forged in one piece and exquisitely damascened, is surmounted by the figure of a recumbent turbaned warrior--emblematic of the Ottoman Empire--whose fierce mustachios are firmly grasped by two female figures, representing Fame and Victory. Far exceeding these pieces in dignity and simplicity of conception, and in vigour and accuracy of execution, is the famous Medusa shield (D. 64) presented to Charles by the Municipality of Milan upon his entrance into the city in 1541. The Gorgon’s head, daringly and vigorously embossed, is super-imposed on the centre of the shield, and confined within a broad laurel wreath. Outside this again are three concentric bands. The first, narrow and richly inlaid with the precious metals; the second, blackened and divided into sections by panels bearing the inscription, “Is terror quod virtus anima e fortuna paret”; the third, damascened like the first, and divided by medallions containing the Imperial insignia. The rim is moulded into the form of a laurel wreath. Negroli’s name is shown on the steel grip. This is considered one of the very finest shields ever forged by an armourer.

The swords (G. 33, 34) are believed to be the work of the same hands. Their middle surfaces and ricassi are inlaid with gold. The hilt of one terminates in a beautiful volute, of the other in a facetted pommel.

The helmet, attributed in the old catalogues to Boabdil (D. 12), issued from the same workshop. It is forged in one piece and could be strengthened by a complete set of re-inforcing pieces for tilt and tournament. Probably it would have interested us more if the old tradition as to its ownership had not been discredited.

Great potentates in the sixteenth century were fond of appearing in Roman garb. Charles V. was the possessor of a suit of armour of this character, presented to him by the Duke of Urbino, and made by Bartolommeo Campi of Pesaro. This armourer, after enjoying the patronage of several crowned heads, served in the army of the Duke of Alba as an engineer, and fell at the siege of Haarlem in 1573. The harness is composed of seven pieces of blackened steel, damascened and ornamented with bronze gilt. The cuirass, a wonderful work of art, is modelled on the muscles of the male breast, and on it is super-imposed the head of Medusa finished off with spiral volutes. At the shoulders are lions’ heads, with fierce rolling eye-balls. The cuirass is fringed with a row of hanging bronze medallions, showing classic heads, masks, and other devices, beloved of the Renaissance artificer. Cothurni with satyrs’ heads at the point, and a Bœotian casque superbly enriched, complete this splendid antique costume.

The work of another eminent Italian artist is to be seen at A. 112. It was presented to Charles by the Duke of Mantua and forged by Caremolo Mondrone of Milan (1489-1543). It possesses an historic interest, as the suit in which the Emperor made his entry into Tunis. Though the decorative work has all but disappeared, the close fit and flowing lines recall the best days of the armourer’s craft.

The next suit (A. 114) also testifies by the extreme delicacy of the azziminia in imitation of Kufic inscriptions, to the wonderful skill of the same artificer.

That the very greatest artists were not unwilling to co-operate in the decoration of arms is attested by the magnificent “Plus Ultra” shield designed by Giulio Romano, who was living in Mantua in those days. It is forged in a single piece of steel and the whole surface is chiselled with an elaborate composition. In the centre is seen the Emperor, in his Roman suit, upholding the Imperial Eagle and standing upright in a vessel, at the prow of which is Fame. Over his head Victory hovers. Hercules, more to the left, shoulders his Pillars, and prepares to follow the Emperor in his onward course, to the obvious consternation of Neptune. Below the boat a river-god is seated near the figure of Africa or America, bound and enslaved. This is certainly one of the most remarkable productions of the armourer’s art anywhere to be seen.

The armour at one time in the possession of Charles and his son is naturally the most interesting in the collection. The suits made for their successors illustrate the decline of the artistic movement. The harness was now worn chiefly for display. The connection between Spain and Bavaria was severed, and the days had long gone when Toledo blades were esteemed the finest weapons the world could produce. The suits made for Philip III., when Infante, by Lucio Piccinino of Milan, is worthy of the earlier period. It is profusely decorated with reliefs and azziminia. The burgonet is embossed with three masks, another appearing in the centre of the breastplate, above a panel containing a figure of Victory and upheld by two male figures. The other pieces (many of which are wanting) were all similarly adorned. The horse’s barding exhibits a similar wealth of ornamentation.

Turned out in Spain itself at the Royal Arsenal of Pamplona in Navarre, in the year 1620, is the armour catalogued under the numbers A. 350-353. This was a suit intended for presentation by Philip III. to the Duke of Savoy, and is lavishly decorated. A curious feature of the next suit, also made in Navarre, is the seven indentations made by the bullets of an arquebus. Each is set with stones. These marks were intended to attest the thickness of the steel, but they do rather the contrary, for the backplate has been completely perforated. We are reminded of Don Quixote’s attempts to satisfy himself of the toughness of his helmet.

At A. 13-20 are shown six charming little suits made for the boy princes, Philip, Ferdinand, and Charles. They are composed of closed helmets, gorgets, cuirasses, and the usual arm-guards. The surface is blued and divided diagonally by foliations between which appear the emblems of Spain and the Golden Fleece.

The suit made for the Infante Baltasar Carlos (1629-1646) is little more than a costly toy, and preserves its gilding and blackening unimpaired. The suits A. 369 and A. 394 are historically interesting, as having been worn in the field by Prince Emmanuele Filiberto of Savoy, the victor of St Quentin, and Don Juan José, natural son of Philip IV., respectively.

The splendidly engraved collar and gorget catalogued as A. 434-441, are now known to portray the siege of Ostend (1601-1604) and battle of Nieuport (1600). The details are executed with marvellous clearness, and reflect the greatest credit on the unknown artificer. The horseman in the centre group on the gorget is probably the Archduke Albrecht, who distinguished himself by his valour in the battle. These pieces were worn over a buff jerkin, such as clothed Cromwell’s Ironsides.

Many detached pieces in this grand collection are as full of interest as the complete harnesses. The sword, G. 21, once thought to be the “Colada” of the Cid, has lost little of its interest now that it has been identified with that equally famous blade, the “Lobera” of St Ferdinand. A part of the cloak in which the sainted king was buried is also shown with his long-necked spurs or “acicates.” Then we have (at G. 13) the heavy weapon of Ferdinand the Catholic, and the sword of state used by the Catholic sovereigns when conferring the accolade. The sword, inscribed with the Great Captain’s name, was presented to him, the Count of Valencia thinks, by some Italian city. The sword numbered G. 30 also belonged to him. And who can gaze without wonderment on the Valencian blade with which Pizarro won for Spain the vast empire of Peru?

From the New World comes a wonderful feather shield, made by the Mexican Indians under the direction of Spanish artists. On a wicker frame are depicted in feathers, mounted on skin, the battles of Navas de Tolosa, Tunis, and Lepanto, and the taking of Granada. In the centre a heron is seen defending its nest against serpents--a composition symbolical of the campaign against heresy. The whole is an extraordinary example of what can be achieved with such apparently impracticable materials.

Included in the collection is a brigantine made for Charles V. composed of hundreds of pieces of steel sewn on leather, making a garment as flexible as a jersey, and yet endowed with extraordinary resisting power.

Older, and from certain points of view more interesting than any of these exhibits, are the Visigothic crowns of Guarrazar, the companions of those in the Cluny museum. These were found one moonlit night in the year 1858 by two peasants, in the bed of a fountain, and only secured with difficulty by the government. Much of the treasure had already come into the possession of the goldsmiths of Toledo, and had been broken up or melted down. It is said to have comprised a beautiful golden dove, which, having been acquired by a jeweller, occasioned him so many qualms of conscience that he at last eased his mind by throwing it into the Tagus. The crowns were the offerings at shrines of King Swinthila and his successors. They consist of hoops studded with gems and dangling from a separate ornament of gold and rock-crystal. From the hoop hang pendants and letters in enamel, making up the inscription, _Swinthilanus Rex Offeret_. Adjacent are crosses and ornaments of the same period. An antique horse’s bit, ascribed by tradition to Witiza, is believed by the Count de Valencia to date from the Visigothic era.

The collection comprises a superb assortment of swords, beautiful specimens of the famous Toledo blades. Among those of historic interest, I forgot to mention that of Hernando Cortés. The sword of Philip II., numbered G. 47 has a magnificent hilt richly chased, with a spherical pommel. It is no doubt the work of Desiderius Colman, though believed, at one time, to have been designed by Benvenuto Cellini.

Among the trophies are the sword of the Duke of Weimar, taken at Nordlingen in 1634, the arms taken from Francis I. at Pavia, Moorish arms from Tunis, the breastplate of the Elector of Saxony, taken at Mühlberg, swords and standards from Lepanto, and flags taken by the famous Admiral Alvaro de Bazán. The arms belonging to his late Catholic Majesty, Alfonso XII., have also been added to the collection by the Queen Dowager, who well knew the profound interest her august husband took in this superb military museum.

THE ESCORIAL--LA GRANJA--EL PARDO

No one visits Madrid without making an excursion to the Escorial, which is to the Spanish capital what the Pyramids are to Cairo. Indeed, there is more than one point of resemblance between these buildings. Both impress mainly by their size, both produce no sensations of pleasure in the beholder, both embody the solemn and crushing conception of the majesty of death entertained by great and despotic kings.

The thoughts of Philip II., like those of the Pharaohs, turned perpetually graveward, and it is perhaps doing no injustice to a genuinely devout character to say that he pondered as much on the abode of the body after death as on the post-mortem vicissitudes of his soul. The pomp of death which, according to the sage, is to most men more terrible than death itself, had a rare fascination for the Pharaohs and the King of Spain. Philip in his tomb seemed a finer figure to Philip living than Philip on his throne. Death as a catastrophe is attractive, of course, to all manner of people, not otherwise morbid. But it was death in its most generally repugnant aspect that appealed to this strange, sombre sovereign of the Spains, and it was that predominating conception that inspired him in the erection of the Escorial. The building is his idea of the majesty and finality of Death expressed in stone.

The story which immediately accounts for the founding of the Escorial is well known. On the 16th August 1557, the Spaniards commanded by Emmanuele Filiberto, Duke of Savoy, totally defeated the French under the walls of St Quentin. Philip arrived in time to assist at the taking of the town itself, to effect which it became necessary to demolish a convent dedicated to St Lawrence. By way of reparation to that saint, in thanksgiving for the victory, and in fulfilment of his father’s instructions to create a royal mausoleum, Philip determined to erect a vast monastery and palace under the invocation of St Lawrence. The present site having been chosen by a commission, the work was begun in the presence of the King himself, in the first week of April 1562. The plans were drawn by Juan Bautista de Toledo, an architect of distinction, who had studied at Rome and Naples. He died, however, in 1563, a few days after the laying of the first stone and the work was then entrusted to his assistant, the more celebrated Juan de Herrera (born in Asturias 1530, died at Madrid 1597). Villacastin, the Master of the Works, on being invited to assist at the ceremony of laying the first stone, replied, “Let others lay the first, I will place the last!” His words came true, for he laid on June 23rd, 1582, the last stone, which may be seen marked with a black cross on entering the Patio de los Reyes.

The real architect was Philip himself. His interest in the work was so intense, his attention to its details so minute, the idea of the whole so much his own and so tenaciously insisted upon, that Toledo and Herrera can have had little else to do than commit the scheme to paper.

The Escorial is essentially the work of one man, and the expression if not of his personality, at least of the idea that obsessed him.

It was the custom in Northern Europe to propitiate some half-forgotten infernal deities by burying a pig or a sheep alive in the foundations of every church. The monastery of San Lorenzo was similarly consecrated by human and animal sacrifices. After the Hermits of St Jerome (Charles V.’s favourite order) had established themselves in the incomplete edifice, it was whispered that a black dog persistently interrupted their chanting by his howlings. The animal was looked upon by the people as inspired by God thus to protest against the spoliation of the peasantry by the Hermits. It turned out that it was only one of the hounds of the Marquis de las Navas, bewailing his absent master; but the benevolent monks promptly hanged the poor brute from the roof of their cloister. In the same year a young man, twenty-four years of age, was (no doubt for some serious offence) burned at the stake on the spot in the neighbouring Jardin del Principe marked by a stone cross. Thus with most solemn rites was the great Christian temple consecrated to Death.

The building constitutes an immense parallelogram, its sides nearly facing the cardinal points of the compass. The small rectangular annex called the Palacio de Infantes projecting from the middle of the eastern face, gives the plan a purely accidental resemblance to a gridiron, which, according to legend, was the instrument of the titular saint’s martyrdom. The dimensions, according to a Spanish writer, are 744 Castilian feet from north to south, 580 from east to west, and 400,000 square feet in area. The whole building is of grey granite, and appears to form an integral part of the rock on which it stands. In its simplicity and hugeness it might easily be mistaken for the work of Nature, not of man. Artistically this is perhaps its sole merit, yet, as I have said, it never fails to awe. The style is that of the second Renaissance, here called Greco-Roman, which prefers the Doric order and rejects all superfluous ornament. Each angle is capped by a square tower, surmounted by a pinnacle. The façades, devoid of all decoration, are relieved only by rows of small square windows. The upper stories are faced with blue slate and sheets of lead. The Escorial is rivalled in simplicity and severity by the Pyramids alone.

The main entrance is in the middle of the west front. The lower stage is in the Doric style, four columns flanking the doorway on each side. The door itself is 20 feet high and 12 feet wide, and painted white with huge copper-gilt studs and knockers. Above is the second stage of the entrance in the Ionic style. Over the door is the colossal statue of St. Lawrence in granite, but with the head, hands, and feet in white marble. The sculptor, Monegro, received 20,900 reales for the Spanish coat-of-arms carved below.

A vestibule opens upon the Patio de los Reyes, so called from the statues of the Kings of Judah in granite and marble, also by Monegro, which stand on pedestals above the cornice. Jehoshaphat is represented with an axe, Hezekiah with a ram, Manasseh with the compass and square, Josiah and Solomon with books, David with harp and sword. These kings were selected as having had most to do with the building of the Temple, to which the Escorial was often compared by Spanish writers. The Temple, as represented by the Mosque of Omar, is by far the more cheerful and ornate structure of the two.

The eastern front of this court is formed by the west front of the church and the Escorial--undoubtedly the noblest part of the pile. It is rightly considered Herrera’s masterpiece. The shape is said to be that of a Greek cross, but seemed to me to be square. The west front is flanked by square towers considerably over 200 feet high, and terminating like those of the enceinte in pinnacles. Over the crossing rises a stately dome, supporting a graceful pyramid, above which rises an iron cross. These towers are the most ornamental features of the whole vast pile.

The interior of the church, truly observes Mr Lomas, “conveys exactly the idea which English people attach to the word ‘temple,’ a place wherein the majesty of the invisible dwarfs everything human.” It is constructed on the model of the first plan of St Peter’s. The lantern is carried on four enormous piers, from which to eight pilasters in the walls spring twenty-four mighty arches, forming three naves. Giants would seem to have been at work here. On entering we find ourselves in the dark Lower Choir, which is separated from the rest of the church by three bronze railings and to which were confined the lay worshippers. Above it is the choir, which it is unusual to find in Spain raised in a gallery at the west end of the church, instead of blocking up the nave. Here Philip often joined the monks in their devotions, his seat being the one nearest the door in the south-east angle. He was absorbed in prayer when on November 8th, 1571, during Vespers, a messenger entered and announced to those assembled the glorious victory obtained by Don John of Austria over the Ottoman fleet. The King gave no sign that he was elated, or that he had even heard the intelligence, but at the conclusion of the office he ordered a Te Deum to be intoned. He was a man never elated by success or cast down by failure. The evil tidings of the Armada found him as unperturbed as the good news of Lepanto. From the same seat he assisted at the solemn requiem Mass chanted by night for the repose of the soul of Mary, Queen of Scots. It is not without a certain emotion that we gaze around in this gallery. The stalls are elegantly and chastely carved in precious woods, after the designs of Herrera. The lectern and crystal chandelier are hardly so good. The eye turns at once to the marble crucifix signed by Benvenuto Cellini, who placed it among his finest works. Philip, one day, covered the loins of the figure with his handkerchief, a precedent which we see still followed in many churches in Spain and in convent chapels in France.

In the adjoining chambers, called the Antecoros, may be seen a statue converted into the “likeness” of St. Lawrence, and two pictures by Navarrete “el mudo.” That artist is said to have fallen foul of certain ecclesiastics by representing angels with beards, and an additional rule was laid down that neither cats and dogs nor any unbecoming figures were to be introduced into religious pictures, but only such things as incited to devotion. The frescoes are by Luca Giordano, as are also those which decorate the eight vaults of the church itself. In the choir library you may see the splendid antiphoners, beautifully bound and illuminated, and over a yard high by two yards broad.

In the church is the simple tomb of Queen Mercedes, first wife of his late Majesty, Don Alfonso XII. The plain gold cross at her feet was the offering of the British community of Madrid, by whom, as indeed by the whole world, her untimely death was profoundly deplored. She is buried here and not in the mausoleum below, as she was not the mother of a king.