Madrid: an historical description and handbook of the Spanish capital by Calvert

MADRID

AN HISTORICAL DESCRIP
TION AND HANDBOOK OF
THE     SPANISH   CAPITAL,
BY   ALBERT F.   CALVERT,
WITH 453 ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMIX

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TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.

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PREFACE

Madrid is but a nursling among the cities of Spain. Marius Fulvius laid siege to Toledo nearly two centuries before the birth of Christ, and it is not until a thousand years later that we find the first historical mention of Madrid. London, under the title of Augusta, was one of the most important towns of Britain more than five hundred years before Don Ramiro II. of Leon razed Majerit, as it was then called, in 939. This is the first authoritative reference we have to Madrid. In 1540, Charles V. abandoned the time-honoured capitals of Valladolid, Seville, Zaragoza, and Toledo, to nurse his gout in the brisk, rarefied air of Madrid. In 1560 the city was declared “the only Court” by Philip II., and styled “Imperial y Coronada, muy noble y muy leal”; Ferdinand VII., in 1814, added the words “y muy heroica.”

Despite the flattering and dignified official epithets that have been bestowed upon it, Madrid possesses many natural features which militate{vi} against its popularity as a residential centre; but, despite its isolated and elevated position and the treacherousness of its climate, the city has not deserved the strictures that have been passed upon it by captious and prejudiced critics. For Madrid is a city of broad thoroughfares, magnificent public buildings, and handsome houses; and, since it has been rescued from its geographical remoteness by being made the centre of the Spanish railway system, it has become one of the most accessible and prosperous capitals of Europe.

In devoting a volume to an historical and descriptive account of Madrid, I am not only fulfilling a duty which could not be neglected in any serious attempt to make this Spanish Series useful and comprehensive, but I am also inspired with a hope of being able to dissipate many of the erroneous and defamatory impressions that are current with regard to the Spanish capital. I have approached the task from the standpoint of a resident writing for visitors to the city, and if my notes are biassed in favour of my subject, I can only say that I have a sincere liking and admiration for the city, and I have spoken of its people as I have found them. The Spanish metropolis is modern; it is imbued{vii} with the principles of modern progress; and while one never ceases to rejoice in the unfaltering, unchanging adherence to an immemorial past, characteristic of Toledo, one may feel an interest, equally keen and appreciative, in the spirit of new Spain which is to be found in Madrid.

Not the least pleasant part of an author’s privilege in penning a preface is the opportunity it affords him of acknowledging the assistance and courtesy he has received in the accomplishment of his task. To Mr W. Gallichan my thanks are due for assistance received in the compilation, and I am also grateful to Señor Don J. Lacoste and Messrs Hauser y Menet for their kindness in permitting me to reproduce many of the illustrations that adorn this little book.

MADRID
I

GENERAL IMPRESSIONS OF MADRID
“From Madrid to heaven, and in heaven a spy-hole to look at Madrid” is the vaunt of the inhabitants of the Spanish capital. This pride has its justification, for Madrid is a fine city, remarkable for its position on a plateau over two thousand feet above the sea, famous for its progress during the eventful eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and interesting by reason of the great names in the arts and literature inscribed upon its records. Madrid for the writers of the Romantic school was as charming as all other things Spanish; for de Musset it was “princesse des Espagnes” and “blanche ville des sérénades.”

Few towns in Europe are situated amid so many natural hindrances to development as Madrid. It stands south and east of the bleak mountains of central Spain, upon one of many exposed and almost treeless uplands, where the winds of winter and early spring sting and bite, and the{2} sun in summer sheds pitiless heat, which dries up the blood and disposes to languor. So fickle is the climate of this lofty region that, even in the height of August, it is never quite safe to discard the capa after sundown, for, during the hottest day, a sinister and gelid breath may assail one at the street corner with a menace of chill to the lungs. Yet Madrid is not unhealthy. It is dry, invigorating, swept by mountain breezes, bathed for long periods in brightest sunlight, and free from the contamination and depression of smoke. With proper provision against the variations in temperature, one may enjoy a full measure of health and live to an advanced age in this city of the hills. The more dangerous kinds of fever are uncommon in Madrid; the chief risk to health is in the sudden keen air that brings a shiver when the body has been scorched by the sun, and one turns to seek the shady side of the street.

Rio and Cabarras, two Spanish historians, speak of the bad odours and the dirt of Madrid in the seventeenth century. This reproach was, however, removed in the time of Henry Swinburne, an intelligent traveller, who visited the city in 1776. “The appearance of Madrid,” writes Swinburne, “is grand and lively; noble streets, good houses, and excellent pavement, as clean as{3} it was once dirty.” In earlier days it was not thought necessary to wash the thoroughfares, because the purity of the air was an effective antidote to the evil of the filth and the smells. Rio, for example, advances the opinion that the invigorating mountain breezes are a sufficient purification.

The clear quality of the Madrid sunshine is a compensation for the treachery of its winds. There are but few sunless days. “The sky at Madrid is almost always clear and serene,” wrote Laborde, in 1809. The heights of the Guadarrama are too far from the city to throw their shade upon it, and the brilliant sunlight pours down and floods the streets and squares, and penetrates every dwelling. Looking upon the wide, rolling, hillocky country from the outskirts of the city, you have a marvellous vista, full of colour, glow, and the grandeur of huge sunlight spaces. The sky is almost perennially deep blue; but at times there are vast masses of purple cloud above the horizon, whose passing shadow produces changing effects of light and darkness upon the far-stretching landscape, and adds a sternness to the sierra.

For a long period this part of Castile was ravaged by the fellers of trees. The farmers{4} aimed besides at the extinction of all kinds of birds, under the delusion that every bird is harmful to crops; and in the conduct of this warfare the axe was laid to the roots of millions of trees, so that no harbour for small birds might remain. This clearing of the forests destroyed the natural barriers against icy winds, deprived the land of all shade, made deserts in place of groves, and affected the climate and rainfall. A wiser policy was instituted in later years, and now a number of large plantations have grown up in the environs of the town, and the once denuded hillocks and bare gullies are here and there clothed with shady coppices. For the rest, the herbage of these grey uplands yields moderate pasturage for sheep in summer.

Madrid lacks the dignity and beauty which a wide river lends to a city. The little Manzanares is not an imposing flood. It can scarcely rank as a river. The handsome Puente de Toledo spans the stream, and gives a touch of the picturesque to its muddy flow; and there is also the well-constructed Bridge of Segovia, with many arches. These gave rise to the now venerable joke that it would be better to sell the bridges and buy some water with the proceeds.

Several writers have declared that the seat of{5} the Spanish Court is not typical of the cities of Spain. This may be accepted as true in the sense that it has very little to show in the nature of antiquities. Segovia, Toledo, Avila, Burgos, Seville, Cordova, and Granada possess more interesting and romantic memorials of the past than the city of Madrid. Nevertheless, the Castilian capital has associations with days of immense moment in the history of Spain, and it is moreover one of the handsomest towns in the Europe of to-day; and whatever else is wanting in Madrid, it boasts of a priceless collection of some of the world’s masterpieces of painting. Only here can one realise the greatness of Velazquez, and appraise the genius of Goya. Its Royal Armoury, too, is the finest in the world.

That Madrid has modelled itself upon Paris is not to its discredit. The city manifests the modern spirit in Spain rather than the mediæval atmospheres. It does not live upon its past like Cordova and Toledo. Madrid aspires to be a progressive modern municipality. The streets are broad, the system of lighting is modern, there are electric tramcars, motor-cars, and London and Parisian vehicles in the thoroughfares. The streets are deluged with the fire-hose{6} three times a day, and the nuisance of the dust is thereby abated.

A good supply of wholesome water is a boon in this arid district, but it must be admitted that Madrid is not too well off in this respect. The plazas are adorned with trees, and there are public parks, gardens, and open spaces. The Englishman, the Frenchman, and the German feel at home in this cosmopolitan centre; and yet everywhere there are the signs of Spain, the essential characteristics of a Southern people, as shown in courtly manners, mode of living, amusements, dress, and racial temperament.

To say that Madrid is an attempted replica of Paris is scarcely a fair description of the city. Madrid has an aspect and a character of its own. Its gaieties are tempered with Castilian restraint. The business of the city is conducted without bustle; the diversions are matters of importance, and they are keenly enjoyed; but the Madrileño is not so vivacious and hilarious as the Parisian. Even here, in the hub of modern Spain, the Spaniard exhibits his placidity and patience. He is not given to hurry. The express train, which travels at a speed of twenty-five miles an hour, is fast enough for him, and he will get up in the early morning to catch it. Yet life in Madrid is{7} decidedly animated, even if it is the pursuit of pleasure and not of wealth that occupies its inhabitants.

And yet there is trading and speculating in the city, and merchants contrive to build up businesses, and shopkeepers thrive, and occasionally make large fortunes. But the aim is rather to enjoy life than to “push” and “hustle” in the hope of accumulating dollars by middle age. In fine, the art of contented enjoyment is discreetly cultivated in Madrid by all classes. Valdés, in his novel “Froth,” tells us how the “smart set” and the fashionable idlers of the city pass their days, and the picture is not unlike the life of our own West End society. But sentiment is a luxury for which the rich are prepared to pay a high price. You may see beautifully furnished houses deserted and allowed to fall into ruin by the owner, because his loved wife or child drew their last breath there, perhaps years ago.

No, despite the tramcars, the modern air of the streets, and the London and Parisian fashions in dress, you cannot fail to realise that this is a Spanish city. Look at the workman, in his canvas blouse and drill trousers, with the boina on his head and hemp-soled canvas shoes upon his feet; or the work-girl, with a rose in her hair and a fan in{8} her hand. These are types of Spain, distinctive in their social ideals, their garb, and their physiognomy. Now and then, a peasant from the provinces is seen rubbing shoulders with a grandee, clad in the costume of Piccadilly. The contrast is sharp; the man about town and the field-toiler might be natives of two different countries, for the wear of the peasant is more African than European. His feet are in sandals, his legs bound with linen, his head tied up in a kerchief, and his body clothed with white cotton. And around his waist is a broad, gay silk sash, in whose voluminous folds he conceals his money and his keen-edged, long-bladed navaja.

How antiquated, too, in British eyes is the ox-cart, heavy and ramshackle, with its squeaking wheels, and pair of bullocks under the carved wooden yoke! And the mule-teams—the gaunt, bony beasts, in Moorish-looking harness, with jangling bells around their necks, and the quaint devices of the clipper upon their coats, attended by swarthy men in knee-breeches and short jackets, with the peaked Castilian hat upon their cropped heads—these surely are of the days when Don Quixote rode on the great grey wastes of La Mancha, accompanied by his loyal Sancho.{9}

Old Madrid is rapidly disappearing. One of its confines was formerly the Puerta del Sol, which is now almost in the centre of the city. The gate is no longer in existence, but the place in which it stood still bears its name, and is the focus of the city’s life. Ancient purlieus were situated to the east of the royal palace; to-day scarcely any of the alleys and small squares remain, though here and there you may note a quaint corner or an old house.

From the Puerta del Sol the chief thoroughfares of Madrid radiate. The Calle de Alcalá, the Calle del Arenal, the Calle Mayor, and the fashionable Carrera de San Jerónimo branch from this central square. In the Puerta del Sol stands the Ministerio de la Gobernación, a large, but not architecturally notable, edifice. Here also are the chief hotels, cafés, and restaurants. In the Calle de San Jerónimo are the best shops. Every one comes to stroll, lounge, and “to take the sun” in this bright, busy space in the heart of the city. It is the Piccadilly Circus of Madrid. All the types of Madrid’s population may be seen here from the bull-fighter to the great legislator. American and English tourists mingle with the throng; German commercial travellers talk business to their customers on the{10} seats outside the cafés; and one hears several languages spoken in the hotels.

In the Buen Retiro and the Parque de Madrid you may study the beau monde of the city from the shade of the trees during the afternoon parade. Here there are over two hundred acres of pleasure grounds, more or less unkempt, but containing a fine avenue, paths, and umbrageous trees. The upper classes of the city delight in riding and driving. It is necessary to own a carriage and pair in order to figure in Madrid society, and the hobby of motoring is on the increase here as elsewhere in Europe. In former times the Buen Retiro was a royal demesne. Kings of Spain from Philip II. to Charles III. resorted to this pleasaunce, and a palace stood in the gardens. Nowadays, the Parque is a public pleasure resort, used by high and low, and often merry with a carnival or a battle of flowers. The Royal Palace overlooks the Manzanares, and dominates the city. It is in form a huge quadrangle, designed by Sachetti. The views from its windows are wide and impressive, and an idea of their beauty may be gained from the balcony near the Royal Armoury. Behind the palace is the Campo del Moro, a lovely garden on the spot where Ibn Yusuf besieged the old Alcázar. Only the{11} privileged are permitted to enter this verdant sanctuary.

In an interesting book, “A Year in Spain,” written by a young American in 1831, there is a picture of the daily life of Madrid which may serve to illustrate the day’s round among the leisured in the city of to-day: “The first thing in the morning was to arrange and order everything for the day. Then each took the little higada of chocolate and panecillo, or small roll, of the delightful bread of Madrid. This meal is not taken at a table but sitting, standing, or walking from room to room, and not unfrequently in bed. This over, each went to his peculiar occupations; the old woman, with her Diarios and Gacetas, to open her reading-room in the entry; Florencia to ply her needle; and Don Valentin to play tinker overhead, having first taken out his flint and steel, and cigar and paper, to prepare his brief cigarillo, which he would smoke, with a sigh between each puff, after those days of liberty when a cigar cost two cuartos instead of four. Towards noon he would roll himself in his capa parda—cloak of brown—and go down into the Puerta del Sol, to learn the thousand rumours which there find daily circulation. If it were a feast day, the Mass being over, he would go with{12} his daughter to the Prado. At two the family took its mid-day meal, consisting, beside some simple dessert, of soup and puchero, well-seasoned with pepper, saffron, and garlic. If it had been summer, the siesta would have passed in sleep; but it being winter, Don Valentin took advantage of the short-lived heat to wander forth with a friend, and in the evening went to his tertulia, or friendly reunion. In summer, one, or even two o’clock, is the hour of retiring; but in winter it is eleven. Always the last thing before going to bed was to take a supper of stewed meat and tomatoes, prepared in oil, to sleep upon.”

Although this is a fair account of the inactive life of Madrid, it must not be supposed that no business is done in the city. There are comparatively few manufactures; but there are many shops, and a great share of the produce of Spain is brought into the capital. Tobacco and metal ware are the principal manufactures, and there are a large number of craftsmen who work independently at various trades. Madrid is more a centre of merchants and shopkeepers than of manufacturers.

George Borrow came to Madrid, on his Bible-distributing mission, and lodged in the Calle de la Zarza, “a dark, dirty street, which, however,{13} was close to the Puerta del Sol, the most central point of Madrid.” Borrow went to see two criminals strangled, and gathered some vivid and lurid impressions of the life among the manolos, “the rabble of Madrid.” He declares that the walls of the city enclose “the most extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world,” and claims Madrid as essentially Spanish. This is true only if we have regard for the fact that the metropolis of Spain has still a character of its own, and is in many respects more “European” and modern than Seville, Cadiz, Malaga, and Granada. In Cordova and Toledo we are reminded at every step of the influence of the Morisco, but in Madrid we recall the Spain of Charles V. and of the Bourbons.

Since 1836, Madrid has been a University city. The academy founded at Alcalá was transferred here at that time, and to-day there are about eight thousand students. The Real Academia de Bellas Artes was founded here towards the middle of the eighteenth century. Several fine examples of the art of Murillo are in the gallery of the Academy, and there are also works by Ribera, Rubens, Zurbaran, and Alonso Cano. Besides these institutions there are the Academy of History, the Academy of Science,{14} the Academy of Medicine, and a number of other learned societies.

The Museum of Modern Art contains only a few paintings of importance, but there are some notable pictures by Fortuny, and a few pieces of modern sculpture. The great treasury of art, the Prado Gallery, is fully described in a separate volume of this series. It is the greatest glory of Madrid.

The Naval Museum will recall the past maritime supremacy of Spain. In the National Library there are nearly a million books and a large number of manuscripts, including the beautiful, illuminated Gothic work dating from the tenth century, a thirteenth-century Bible, and the Siete Partidas of Alfonso the Learned. The National Museum of Archæology contains a very interesting collection of Roman, Gothic, and Moorish antiquities.

It would be difficult to find a word which would convey a true impression of a town, but if we were limited to the employment of a single term to describe Madrid, rococo would suggest itself. The capital is elegant, fanciful, and yet stately. It does not smile like Seville, nor frown like Toledo, and yet it is neither sad nor stern. Granada and Cordova sleep. Madrid never seems to slumber;{15} it is one of the most restless places upon the earth. It has the dignity of Castile and the frivolity of Paris; it exhibits the congestion of London in parts within its gates, but it has no dingy, sunless slums, and few signs of an ugly indigence.

There is the luxurious Madrid of the aristocracy and the hidalgo, the Madrid that lives for fashion and pleasure, and there is the Madrid of the shopkeeper and the lower middle class. Beneath these strata are the wage-earners, the mechanics and labourers, a frugal and usually industrious community. There is also the Madrid of a large nondescript class composed of mendicants, thieves, hawkers, and the rabble and derelicts of society.

There is the Madrid of the casinos, some intellectual, others merely social or sporting. The city has its coteries of ardent politicians, military men, financiers, reformers, freethinkers, revolutionaries, and its societies of the scientific, learned, and artistic. There is no specific character which one can point to as typical of Madrid. One passion is, however, manifest throughout all classes—the love of bull-fighting. Seville is the school of the torero; Madrid is the scene of his valour in the arena. The bull-fighter is the idol of the populace. In the cafés of the Puerta del Sol, or in the ring of the Plaza de Toros, his figure{16} is one that arouses the deepest interest and warmest admiration. An eminent jockey in England has his host of admirers, but he cannot command that universal respect which is accorded to the espada in Spain. The great bull-fighter is the pet of Madrid society, the demi-god of the populace, the model of the “sports” of the city.

It is just as easy to lead the studious, contemplative life in Madrid as in London, if one elects to be aloof. On the other hand, there is every opportunity for gaiety, social amenities, and dissipation. Madrid offers almost every kind of life to its inhabitants. Its 540,000 natives, forming Borrow’s “extraordinary vital mass,” are quite as motley as the population of Manchester. Madrid is therefore neither a purely commercial, fashionable, pleasure-seeking, nor cultured centre. Bilbao and Barcelona are the busy marts of Spain; Burgos, Salamanca, and Cordova subsist, as it were, upon the grandeur of the past, and you wonder how the people live. But Madrid throbs with life, and manifests the new ideals and views of the country in the domain of politics, in social reforms, in the arts and sciences, and in the diversions of society. In the realm of thought, the new Spain has its impulse and its centre in Madrid. Barcelona has been called{17} “the life of Spain,” and in the commercial sense this is true. Yet Barcelona boasts of a strong affinity with France, and a great part of its trade is in the hands of foreigners. It is from Madrid that one may expect the impetus of a patriotic, national, and racial advancement, based upon culture and the recognition of the principles of social liberty.{18}

II

THE HISTORY OF THE CITY
The records of Madrid before the tenth century are extremely scanty, and the early history of the city is largely conjectural. There is no doubt that the Moors established a fortress here, and called it Majrît; but the Romans were in possession before the Arab conquest of the Peninsula, as certain tablets, discovered in the city by Fernandez de Oviedo, serve to prove.

Upon the disruption of the Khalifate the town became subject to Toledo. Whether it was reconquered before or after the fall of that city, by Alfonso VI., is a vexed question. The credit of taking the town is assumed by the people of Segovia. At this time (1085) Madrid was encompassed by a strong wall, stretching from the Moorish Alcázar, now the Royal Palace, to the Church of our Lady of the Almudena; thence to the street of Segovia by the Cuesta de los Ciegos to the Puerta de Moros, and through the{19} Calle Mayor and the Plaza de Oriente to the Alcázar.

According to an old tradition, still accepted by a part of the populace of Madrid, an image of the Virgin of the Almudena, now in the possession of the nuns of the Sacramento Convent, was concealed by the zealous Christians, during the Moorish occupation, in a tower of the city wall. Three hundred years after the sacred image was discovered and restored to the Church. There is a similar legend concerning the sculpture of the Holy Mother found at about the same date.

Upon the victory of Alfonso, the mosque was purified and dedicated to the Vírgen de la Almudena, and on the site is the fine new Cathedral. A mixed population of Christians, Jews, and Moors lived within the city walls at this period, and the staple industries were the making of hemp, linen, and cloth. One of the regulations of that day referred to the muzzling of dogs, as may be seen from an inspection of the curious Fuero de Madrid, which is preserved by the municipal authorities.

The city is mentioned only occasionally in Castilian annals. Sancho el Bravo in vain sought health and strength from its bracing air.

Under Ferdinand IV. the Cortes first assembled in Madrid, to meet there again in 1335 under{20} Alfonso XI. The townsmen warmly espoused the cause of Peter the Cruel. In 1403, Henry III. sent from the city an embassy to Persia, under Gonzalez Clavijo, to negotiate with the potent warrior sovereign Tamerlane. The emissaries were absent from Spain for two years, and during the journey they visited Constantinople and Samarkand.

John II. and Henry IV. lived in the Royal Palace, and encouraged many poets of Castile who were of their retinue. It is proved by municipal documents that Madrid was not then so insanitary and neglected as some writers have stated, for there were rules for the disposal of refuse, and an order was made for the paving of some of the chief streets.

Upon the death of Henry IV., a faction supporting his daughter, Juana (who is said to have been born here), seized the Alcázar, and held it for several weeks against the Duque del Infantado. Isabella, however, bore the town no grudge, and during her brilliant reign its prosperity increased by leaps and bounds. It remained loyal to the crown during the Comuneros rising, and was rewarded by a visit from Charles V. in 1524. He had taken a fever, and at the advice of his physicians, came to Madrid to regain health in{21} this elevated, bracing region of Castile. A year after, he was in conflict with Francis I. of France, and the French king was a captive in Madrid. Attended by a few members of his Court, Francis occupied a room in the old palace, then known as the Alcázar. There is no doubt that he suffered keen humiliation during this detention, and that he was harassed by fears for the future. His gaoler was Alarcon, the valorous commander of the Spanish infantry, who appears to have treated his royal prisoner with courteous consideration.

When Francis heard that the Emperor desired that he should relinquish all claim to Italy and yield Burgundy, he seized his dagger, and swore that he would rather die than consent to the terms. And although Alarcon restrained him from plunging the dagger into his body, the King avowed that he would sooner suffer lifelong imprisonment than bear the disgrace of gaining freedom by the loss of power and dignity.

Lying on his bed, surrounded by counsellors, the French sovereign sank into a condition of fever and extreme depression. At length he declared his willingness to yield.

By the famous Treaty of Madrid, which was signed in 1526, Francis I. abandoned his rights{22} over parts of Italy and certain portions of Holland and Belgium. The compact was solemnly celebrated at a religious service, and the French and Spanish monarchs passed a few days together before Francis crossed the frontier of Spain.

No sooner had he passed over the Bidassoa than Francis cried: “I am yet a king!” Never had he intended to keep to the terms of the Treaty of Madrid. His breach of faith alarmed Charles, who sent Lannoy and Alarcon to France as his emissaries. Their errand was unavailing; Francis offered a sum of money to the Emperor, but refused to cede Burgundy. And so the bitter feud between Charles and Francis was continued.

Charles V. was a singular example of weakness, of obstinacy, and of reason, with a bias for right and justice. He delighted in the quietude of Aranjuez, and was fond of directing the work of the gardeners. The emperor was athletic in his early manhood, and addicted to field sports. He loved the sights and sounds of wild nature, and took pleasure in roaming the forests. During his visits to Italy, he went to see many famous pictures, and paid homage to Titian. His versatility was also exhibited in his great taste for music and his knowledge of the technique of the art.{23}

He it was who first conceived the project of elevating Madrid to the rank of capital. It was left, however, to his son to promulgate the decree declaring the town to be unica Corte. The document, dated 1561, has unfortunately been lost. Madrid had this advantage over Toledo, Valladolid, and the other old capitals, that it was not identified with any one in particular of the kingdoms that made up Spain, but with Spain in general.

Philip II. held his Court at Madrid in 1561, but he preferred the solitude of his palace of the Escorial. Under this monarch’s rule the city was enlarged, the streets widened, and several squares built. At this time a number of the surrounding forests were felled in order to raise money for the royal exchequer. Don John of Austria, the natural son of Philip IV. by the beautiful actress Calderona, lived in the Buen Retiro. In “The Lady’s Travels into Spain,” written in 1679, we read that it was against the custom to permit the illegitimate sons of royalty to enter Madrid. Don John was therefore confined in the Buen Retiro, “which is the Royal Seat at one of the farthest Parts of Madrid, a little without the Gate.” Here the prince led a secluded existence. “And he shew’d himself so little that he{24} was never seen at any publick Feast during the Life of the late King: but since, Times have changed, and his Fortune stands on a different bottom.”

According to this very entertaining authoress, Don John was of middle height, handsome, with “a most manly countenance.” His address was polished and kindly, and he was reputed to be well learned in the arts and sciences. He “took a great pleasure in the Mathematicks.” Madrid at this time was renowned for the purity of its air and water. The water was “so good and so light that the Cardinal Infante would drink no other when he was in Flanders; and he caus’d it to be brought by Sea in Earthen Jars well stop’d.” The streets of the city were poorly paved, so that the horses often sank up to their knees and the coaches to the butts of the wheels. There were no fortifications to Madrid at this period, and the gates were not defended. Still, even at this time, there were long and wide streets and many great houses. Eating houses abounded, where the chief dishes were beans, garlic, leeks, and broth. There was very little drunkenness. Men drank less than half a pint of wine during the day, and the majority of women abstained altogether.

At this date it was the fashion to retain a large{25} number of domestic servants. The Duchess of Osuna kept about eight hundred attendants, and every room seemed full of them. Only titled persons were allowed to drive teams of four mules. If a commoner dared to appear on the streets with such an equipage, he was liable to a fine, and the traces of his carriage would be cut. The king’s team consisted of six mules.

The daughters of high families in Madrid were often placed in a sort of service to friends of their relatives, who employed them in embroidery and other needlework, for if the young women remained at home they spent their time in idle chatter. The farthingale was worn, and it was often of a huge size, and exceedingly troublesome to the wearers and to other persons. Some women of fashion wore as many as a dozen skirts and petticoats, except in the hot months, when they contented themselves with seven or eight, some being of satin and others of velvet. As the dresses were cut low, it was the custom to rouge the shoulders as well as the cheeks.

The ladies of Madrid society used at this time to sit upon the floor, with their legs crossed in the oriental fashion. They played ombre, took but little outdoor exercise, toyed with their needles, and read very little. At Mass the women carried{26} enormous muffs, and each one had a fan, which was used both in hot and cold weather.

The author who records these impressions of Madrid was the Countess d’Aulnoy. It is the opinion of some modern Spanish chroniclers that her accounts of the manners and customs of that period are over-coloured and often incorrect.

It was in the reign of Philip III. that the first part of Cervantes’ “Don Quixote” was printed in a house in the Calle de Atocha, by Juan de la Cuesta, and the great satire was published in 1605. Philip III. removed the Court to Valladolid, where it was maintained for about four years and then reinstated at Madrid. During the rule of Philip, the Plaza Mayor was built.

The reign of his successor was inaugurated by the public execution of the unfortunate Calderon, whose fall has been the theme of many romances.

The marriage of the Infanta Maria, sister of Philip IV., to Charles of England was arranged to be celebrated in Madrid, in March 1623. Charles stayed in the Convent of San Jeronimo, and afterwards at the Royal Palace, where he remained for five months, and was entertained with bull-fights, fêtes, and balls. The English prince was, however, prevented from marrying{27} the Princess Maria through hindrances of a political nature.

Philip IV. built the Palace of the Buen Retiro at Madrid, inspired by the example of Fontainebleau. In this new royal residence many balls were held, and much money expended upon festivities of a very luxurious character. Meantime, the scaffolds of Madrid flowed with noble blood, as a result of the abortive conspiracy to place the House of Braganza on the throne of Spain and the Duke of Medina Sidonia on that of Andalusia.

Madrid suffered from the general distress which spread over Spain at this period. In the surrounding villages the people were at the point of starvation, and the food supply in the city was seriously threatened. The outlook was so menacing that, in 1664, the President of Castile was sent with a military force to compel the farmers to send their produce to Madrid. In 1680 there was much destitution and suffering in the city, and the people rose and formed bands for the purpose of pillage. Beggars swarmed in Madrid, and desperate gangs of robbers prowled in the surrounding country.

The change from the Austrian to the Bourbon rule proved the salvation of Madrid. Charles III.{28} was an enlightened sovereign, honest in his convictions, and vigorous in his measures of reform. He improved the army, and raised the position of Spain to a first-rate power. His policy in regard to the American colonies was liberal and conciliatory. Charles repealed unjust taxes, stood champion to the poor man, and advocated humane principles of government. He encouraged the sciences, art, and letters of Spain, he protected the press, and gave printers immunity from military service. During the rule of Charles III. schools and colleges were founded. He improved and adorned Madrid, though at one time he entertained the idea of transferring the seat of government to Seville; and caused parks and promenades to be laid out. Under the direction of this monarch, canals were constructed, roads made, waste lands reclaimed, and industries stimulated.

The people of Madrid have every reason to respect Charles III. To his initiation they owe the fine Customs’ House, the Prado Gallery, the General Hospital, the Alcalá Gateway, the Observatory, the Botanical Gardens, and the Natural History Library. These and other institutions and public buildings were established and erected during the reign of this excellent king.{29}

The history of Madrid becomes merged in that of the kingdom. The lead taken on the “Dos de Mayo,” 1808, when the Puerta del Sol and the adjoining streets were held with dauntless but futile courage by the people of Madrid against the French, was the signal for the uprising of the whole country against the intruder. The capital had well deserved its headship by its vindication of the nation’s dignity and independence. Every episode in its troubled history since that memorable day has been described vividly and inimitably by the great epic novelist, Galdós. Throughout the nineteenth century, the city had its full share in the vicissitudes and discord, which so happily terminated with the accession of King Alfonso XII. and the establishment of the strongest and most enlightened government Spain had known for centuries.

The Chevalier de Bourgoanne, who recounted his “Travels in Spain” in 1789, said that Madrid contained at that time eighteen parishes, thirty-five monasteries, thirty-one convents, thirty-nine colleges, fifteen gates, and about 140,000 inhabitants. The number of inhabitants now approaches 600,000. Since the eighteenth century Madrid has extended its confines on all sides, and grown into a modern city of the first rank.{30}

The walls, never a very formidable defence, were taken down in 1868 to enlarge Madrid. At this time the new Plaza de Toros was erected, the Puerta del Sol widened, and the viaduct built across the Calle de Segovia. The streets are now well paved with stone or asphalte, and illuminated with gas and electric light. The chief market is in the Plaza de la Cebada, built in 1870.

In several of the squares and promenades there are fountains, statues, and monuments. One of the finest of the monuments is that erected in memory of the heroes of the Dos de Mayo (the Second of May). It is of granite, in the shape of an obelisk, surrounded by symbolical figures. This monument was designed by Isidro Velazquez. A marble group in front of one of the façades of the Museo del Prado represents Daoiz and Velarde, the gallant artillery officers who fell on that occasion in defence of the throne and country.

Madrid has always been a city of craftworkers and small traders, and even to-day there are very few large industries or factories. There are many small employers of labour and many persons trading with their own plant and stock, and finding employment for their own families. The number of well-appointed shops is steadily increasing, and{31} there is an effort to compete with the large shops of Paris and London, as will be seen during a stroll through the chief thoroughfares radiating from the Puerta del Sol.

The arms of the city are a tree in leaf, with a bear climbing up the stem, and the escutcheon is surmounted by a crown. Madrid bears the title, “Imperial y coronada, muy noble y muy leal y muy heroica.{32}”

III

THE COURT AND SOCIETY IN MADRID
Since the reign of Philip II. Madrid has been the unica Corte, or seat of the Court of Spain. Before the twelfth century, a Moorish Alcázar stood on the site of the present royal palace, which was built by Henry IV., added to by succeeding monarchs, and considerably enlarged by Philip III. The original architects were Herrera, Toledo, and other famous designers of the day; but this structure was burned down, and, in 1738, Giovanni Sachetti planned a still larger palace, which is said to have cost £3,000,000 in the building and embellishment.

The modern Palacio Real is rectangular, and stands on an eminence commanding a wide view of the undulating tableland and the distant mountains of Castile. It is built of granite and has wide wings. The chief façade is on the south side. The Princes’ Entrance is one of the several doorways of the fine façade. On the north is another portal of admirable design, leading to the great patio or inner court. The court is sur{33}rounded by a piazza on thirty-six arches with the same number of arches above, forming a gallery; and in the square are statues of the Roman Emperors who ruled in Spain.

The grand staircase is of white and black marble, with an allegorical ceiling painting by the Italian Giacinto. In the sumptuous Throne-Room the appointments and decorations are resplendent, and on the ceiling is a picture representing the Majesty of Spain, painted by Tiepolo. Gasparini designed the beautiful hall that bears his name, where the ceiling is of porcelain, and the walls decked with satin upon which flowers are worked. The State Dining-Room of marble contains fresco paintings. The Royal Chapel has columns of marble, and above the altar is a painting by Mengs. Near the Sacristy are stored the holy relics; and in the Tapiceria there is a very fine collection of tapestries after Dutch artists. Attached to the Royal Palace are the Armoury, of which something will be said later, the Royal Stables, excellently appointed, and the sequestered and beautiful gardens.

Such is the principal residence of King Alfonso of Spain. The royal ceremonial is under the direction of the Master of the Household and the Lord High Steward. These officers are always persons{34} of high birth, who are invested with the honours of the Order of Charles III. and the Golden Fleece. The Chief Equerry of the royal household takes the position of Master of the Palace when that functionary is absent, and controls the King’s hunt, and directs several minor officials of the Court.

The Chief Chaplain to the King is the Archbishop of Toledo. One of the principal members of the household is the Keeper of the Queen’s Wardrobe. Then come the Lords of the Bedchamber, Maids of Honour, and the Mayordomos de Semana (of the Week). The military officer in command is the General of the Royal Halberdier Guards, and this functionary presides over the ceremony of opening the palace doors at six in the morning and closing them at eleven at night. In Spain the royal residences are regarded as fortresses, and protected by troops.

The Intendant-General of the Royal House and Patrimony holds a responsible post, and administers the King’s estates and incomes. Other officials are the Private Secretaries, the Director of the Royal Stables, the Chief Physician, the Chief Chemist, the Chief Architect, the Secretary of the Signet, the Secretary of the High Chamber, Keeper of the Archives, the Chief Librarian, the{35} Director of the Royal Armoury, and the Chief of the Tapestry Collection. The gentlemen of the Royal Household wear a badge of office in the form of a silver key, and are clad in special uniforms for various occasions.

Pomp and ceremony attend the movements of the Spanish sovereign, and there is an elaborate “Court Guide” embodying all the ordinances and regulations governing the life at the palace. The rigidity of etiquette in the Court of Spain has, however, been exaggerated in the accounts written by strangers since the time of the Countess d’Aulnoy, for a modern Spanish writer asserts that the Court is “more democratic than most European Courts.”

This writer says: “Almost all the points of etiquette observed at present by the persons who have access to the King and Queen and members of their family are merely formulas of pure courtesy, with which those who are aware of them comply, but which are not imposed at the Palace, nor even mentioned to those who do not know them. Taking the glove off the right hand in order to shake hands with the King; treating him as is his due; rising when he rises and not speaking to him except in reply to his questions; these are the chief points to be observed, and{36} which courtiers themselves sometimes forget without any notice being taken.”

Religious services and festivals are strictly observed in the Palace of His Catholic Majesty, and attended by all members of his Court. The chief solemnities are the Festival of the Immaculate Conception and Nativity, Epiphany and Purification, Ash Wednesday, Annunciation and Incarnation, Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Sunday, Ascension Day, Whit Sunday, Holy Trinity, Corpus Christi, All Saints, and the Patronage of our Lady. The public are admitted to the galleries of the Royal Chapel during the celebration of these festivals and services.

Uniform or court dress is worn by the King at these religious celebrations, the Queen always wearing a black or white mantilla, and a long train to her dress, which is borne by pages. The sovereign sits under a canopy, and the princes and princesses are on either side of the throne. Each grandee of the Court has his allotted seat.

The royal infants are baptized from a font in which St Dominic, the immortal founder of the Friars Preachers, was christened. In the Royal Chapel of the Palace the weddings of the princes and princesses are celebrated, but the Kings are married in the Church of the Atocha.{37}

Foreign ministers are received in the Ante-chamber. There is an annual banquet for all the Diplomatic Corps. One of the court ceremonies is the conferring of the title of Grandee in the Ante-chamber.

Every night the Spanish monarch is guarded in his slumbers by the ancient corps of Monteros de Espinosa. These officers are bound to watch the King nightly, and after his death, until his body is sent to the Royal Panteon at the Palace of the Escorial.

The changing of the royal guard takes place every morning in the grounds of the palace, and is an interesting military spectacle, which attracts a large number of the natives of Madrid as well as visitors to the city. It dates from the time of Charles III. A regimental band plays during the ceremony under the windows of the palace.

The Queen Mother of King Alfonso XIII. is possessed of strong religious fervour, and is a pattern to Madrid society in the observance of the rules of the Church and the practice of charity. But piety is not one of the Madrileño’s conspicuous traits, and there is a notable want of restraint in his language! yet Valentin Gómez writes: “Religion is charity, love, and it cannot{38} be denied that, in this respect, although the crust be hard and unsightly, the heart of Madrid is religious, and great and good work has sprung from its practical religion.”

Ecclesiastical festivals form an essential part of the life of Madrid. The Forty Hours is celebrated at thirty churches of the city. During Holy Week there are impressive services and solemn processions in the streets. Every one walks garbed in black; diversions of every sort and all except indispensable business is suspended. A solemn hush reigns over the feverish city. Traffic in the thoroughfares is forbidden on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and the tramcars do not run during certain hours. On Maundy Thursday the King washes the feet of twelve indigent men and women in the palace, and the public attend the ceremony. Good Friday is a day of grace, when the King, at his discretion, exercises clemency towards criminals accused of capital charges.

A romeria or pilgrimage is celebrated in the morning of Good Friday, when crowds visit the Cara de Dios, and afterwards promenade the streets. Imposing processions also take place on Good Friday, which are sometimes attended by the King and the Court dignitaries.{39}

The Corpus Christi festivals are very important. A splendid procession is formed by the chief clergy, members of the court, and military officers. During these celebrations, fairs are held in the outskirts of the city. There is a curious ceremony in memory of St John during June. On the evening of June 23, the populace assemble in the Plaza de Madrid, and at the stroke of midnight the devout dip their hands in the fountain of Cybele, and scatter the water over the bystanders who are unable to reach the basin.

Advent is commemorated by the proclamation of an ecclesiastical decree in the streets of the city. This Bull refers to the Crusades, and is read by a dignitary of the Church, who is attended by guards and trumpeters. Upon Christmas Eve there is midnight Mass at many of the churches, followed by rejoicings in the streets, when the people sing, and beat drums, and make lively din with various instruments.

Madrid is an important military command, and members of the service are amongst the most fashionable sets in the city, as in other parts of Europe. In Spain, however, the uniform does not of itself confer social distinction, and officers continue to frequent the circles from which they were drawn. Military arrogance is not a char{40}acteristic of the Spaniard. Uniforms add to the brightness of the crowds in Madrid, and there is often the sound of regimental bands in the streets. At Caravanchel, eleven kilometres from the city, is a large camp and exercise-ground for the troops, where important reviews are held in the summer, attended by the King and his suite.

The Captain-General of the First Army Corps lives in Madrid, and directs two divisions of this body. Light infantry, cavalry, and artillery are quartered in or near the city. The chief barracks are the Montaña and the Queen Maria Cristina. The barracks of San Francisco are an old convent now utilised for military purposes.

The War Office is in Madrid at the Buena Vista Palace. The artillery and the engineers have their museums and laboratories, and there is a military casino, or club, in the city, containing a gymnasium, baths, fencing-room, and dining-hall.

The chief recreations of Madrid society are the bull-fight, the theatre, dancing, driving, and card-playing. The national pastime of bull-fighting demands a chapter to itself, and the theatre will be treated in another section of this volume. We may here devote a page or two to Spanish dancing,{41} one of the favourite and most charming diversions of the country. Every province of Spain has its traditional dances, from the Jota Aragonesa of Aragon to the Seguidillas of Seville. Andalusia is the region of Moorish dances, survivals of the old days, descriptive of the passion of love. The Cachucha is said to be pre-Roman in its origin, and there is no doubt that most of the national dances are very ancient. Some of these dances are grave and slow, others gay and nimble, and all are marked by grace and charm. The Zarabanda, a Morisco dance of a voluptuous character, was at one period proscribed by the government, and was said to be the invention of the devil. The Fandango also came under reproof in former times.

Typical dances may be witnessed in two or three of the variety theatres of Madrid, but the best dancers are to be seen in the south, in Malaga and sunny Seville. Many ladies in society excel in the art of dancing, and at private gatherings they display their skill and lissom grace in beautiful movements to the accompaniment of the piano or guitar, and castanets. The hands and the trunk of the body play a no less important part than the feet in Spanish dancing.

Besides the characteristic national dances, there are the quadrilles and set dances of other countries{42} which have been introduced into Spain. The minuet was at one time a part of the education of all upper class families in the Peninsula.

Dancing is often part of the entertainment provided at the tertulias, or evening gatherings, in fashionable society. It is the ambition of every handsome lady in Madrid to be famed for her hospitality and to shine as the centre of a tertulia, an institution suggestive in some measure of the salons of France.

Shooting, horse-racing, pigeon-shooting matches, and the ball game known as pelota are the principal out-door recreations of the leisured class in Madrid. The Spanish cazador, or sportsman, is usually a good shot, and capable of enduring severe fatigue in the pursuit of his game. Wild boars and deer are fairly abundant in the preserves of the old families, and these beasts of the chase are also found upon most of the wild mountain ranges. Hares and red-legged partridges afford sport within a league of Madrid, and the Montes de Toledo have always been famous for big game.

The Juego de Pelota is a popular game played in three or four courts in the city by professionals. Pelota is an old amusement of the countryside which has become a fashionable sport. The{43} Basques and the Navarrese excel in this game. A protector for the hand is worn by the players, and the balls are made of india-rubber encased in leather. The ball is struck against a high wall, and hit so that upon the rebound it will fall into a court marked out upon the ground. In some respects pelota resembles fives, and has also a similarity to lawn-tennis. It is a spirited and highly interesting game, and the finest players may be seen in the public frontones of Madrid.

The Madrileños delight in frequenting clubs and cafés, but there is very little drunkenness in the city, although these places of resort are always crowded. Madrid is one of the soberest cities in Europe, and throughout Spain the word drunkard (borracho) is seldom used in polite society. Black coffee is the favourite beverage, to which a few drops of spirit are sometimes added. The wines of ordinary use are light clarets or white wines. A light lager is a favourite drink in the hot weather.

The popular cafés of the Puerta del Sol are used as clubs, where all classes resort to chat and smoke and to read the papers, or to play at billiards. These places are thronged in the evening, and often until the small hours of the morning one hears the{44} buzz of conversation and the click of billiard balls.

As the centre of the Court and the residence of the reigning family, Madrid is, of course, the resort and the home of many members of the aristocracy. The Duke of Lerma, the Duke of Villahermosa, and the Osuna family had palaces in the city; and the first Duke of Alba lived in Calle de la Princesa, since renamed the Calle de Alba. The beautiful Liria Palace, designed by Ventura Rodriguez, is now the home of the young Duke of Alba and his brother and sister, Count de Montijo and Doña Sol.

The Liria Palace contains some fine tapestries, curious antique furniture, and valuable pieces of armour. There is also a collection of paintings in the possession of the family, containing many portraits of illustrious ancestors. The garden of the palace is extremely beautiful and sequestered.

The old Valencian family of Cervello own the palace in the Calle de Santa Isabel. The building stands in a garden, and it was restored some years ago. Very fashionable receptions, costume balls, and theatrical entertainments are held in this sumptuous palace.

{45}

The Duchess of Denia built the mansion in the Plaza de Colón. There is a magnificent Renaissance staircase at this palace, a chapel in the later Moorish style of architecture, erected by Arturo Mélida, and a fine reception hall.

The Portugalete Palace in the Calle de Alcalá belongs to the Castaño family. It is one of the most artistic houses in Madrid. In the Plaza de Castelar is the home of the Marquis of Linares, beautifully decorated within, and containing handsome carved furniture.

The Palace of the Larios is another imposing building in La Castellana. It contains a patio in imitation of the Court of the Lions at the Alhambra Palace.

Calderon built the mansion in the Recoletos, which is now in the possession of the Marchioness de Manzanedo, who resides there. The Infanta Isabel has a splendid house in the barrio de Argüelles. The Marquis de Cerralbo, the Duke of Valencia, and the Count of Peñalver reside in elegant houses in the city. The late Conde de Valencia de Don Juan, who was Director of the Royal Armoury, was a noted collector of pictures, objects of art, and antiquities.

Other palaces of interest are those of the Duke of Nájera in the Calle de Alcalá, the old residence of the Countess de Pinohermoso, in the Calle de{46} Don Pedro, the house of the Count de Agreda, and that of the Marchioness de Casa López, near the Puerta de Alcalá. The residence of the Marchioness de Squilache is the rendezvous of the eminent in politics, literature, and art. Artistic gatherings are held in the salon of the Marchioness de Bolaños and that of Don Enrique Peñalver.{47}

IV

ART IN MADRID
In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, during a pacific period following on the long conflict with the Moors, there arose a number of painters in Castile. Juan II., King of Castile, was a lover of the arts and of literature. We read that this king employed a painter of the Flemish School, named Maestro Rogel, who was reputed to be a pupil of Van Eyck. It was about this time that Flemish art began to influence the work of the Spanish artists, while the Italian style was especially followed by the painters of the Castilian School.

Antonio Rincon has been called the founder of the Castilian School of painting, and it is recorded that this artist studied in Italy before his appointment as court painter to Ferdinand and Isabella. Rincon’s portraits of his royal patrons were at one time in the Church of San Juan de los Reys at Toledo, but they were destroyed during the wars with France. In the Royal Gallery of Madrid, putative copies of{48} these portraits are preserved, and they show great force and individuality. But many of the works of Antonio Rincon, in the mannered Italian style, are of mediocre merit.

A more powerful painter of Castile was Juan de Borgoña, who laboured with Rincon upon the jasper steps of the wonderful Gothic retablo in Toledo Cathedral. Some of Borgoña’s frescoes have perished; but in the Prado Gallery at Madrid there are several pictures, attributed to an unknown artist, which are probably the work of this painter.

Pedro Berruguete, father of Alonso Berruguete, the painter and sculptor, has been likened by Lord Leighton to Carpaccio. Very little is known of Pedro Berruguete. In the Royal Gallery of Madrid there are some paintings ascribed to this artist, representing scenes from the lives of Thomas Aquinas, San Pedro, and Domingo de Guzman, glowing with colour and painted with a strong hand.

Felix Castello, born in Madrid in 1602, was a painter of moderate ability. Two of his paintings may be seen in the Prado Gallery, one depicting “A Battle between Spanish and Dutch,” and the other “The Landing of General Fadrique de Toledo.{49}”

The Titanic genius of Velazquez shone not only above all his predecessors of the School of Castile, but above the host of Spanish painters. Velazquez was born in 1599, and lived until 1660. He was a native of Seville, where he studied art under Francisco de Herrera and Pacheco. In 1623 his fame had reached the ears of the king, through the Duke of Olivares, and Velazquez was appointed royal painter in Madrid, and lodged in the princes’ quarters of the palace. Here he produced his greatest works, often watched while he painted by the king, who enjoyed the society of artists.

Besides his apartments in the royal palace, Velazquez had later a private house in the Calle de Concepcion Geronima. Velazquez was now at the zenith of his fame, the cynosure of an art circle, the acknowledged master of an enthusiastic following, the favourite of royalty, and the friend of grandes. “A taste for the arts, an intelligent appreciation and discussion of art topics, had at that time already become a matter of tradition in Madrid,” writes Professor Carl Justi in his “Diego Velazquez and His Times.”

The first painting of Velazquez seen by the people of Madrid was exhibited upon the door of the Church of San Felipe in the Calle Mayor.{50} His progress from that hour was victorious, though he had to encounter the envy of the Italian painters who were then employed by Philip. Carducci speaks of “the detestable naturalism” of the new court painter.

In 1628, Velazquez met Rubens at Madrid. Next year he went to Italy, and upon his return to Spain, he worked with extraordinary industry upon royal portraits and historical scenes for the regal palaces.

In 1636, Diego Velazquez was appointed Wardrobe-Assistant to the King and Minister of Fine Arts. But the greatest honour was accorded to the painter in 1659, when he received the Cross of Santiago, the highest order of Spain. Two years after, Velazquez died at Madrid of a fever, which he had contracted through over-exertion in the conduct of an expedition in the north of Spain, when Philip met the King of France.

The masterpieces of Velazquez are stored in a fine sala at the Museo del Prado[1] in Madrid. “Las Meninas,” a work proclaimed by many artists and art critics as the finest painting in the world, is in this priceless collection. Artists{51} from every country have regarded the Prado Gallery as a Mecca. Wilkie came to Madrid, and spent long hours gazing at the paintings of Velazquez. John Philips modelled his style on Velazquez, and Manet, Furse, Sargent, Whistler, and Sir Frederick Leighton are among the pilgrims to the Prado. It was probably the painting of “Las Meninas” which gained for Velazquez the Order of Santiago.

[1] For a full description of the pictures in this museum, see “The Prado,” an illustrated volume in this series.

“The Forge of Vulcan,” a mythological subject treated in a realistic manner, is in the Prado among the splendid collection of pictures of Velazquez, besides the more generally esteemed “Los Barrachos” and “Las Lanzas.”

Velazquez had a host of successors among the painters of Spain, but he founded no school, for he stood alone and unapproachable. The works of his survivors may be studied in the Prado Gallery. One of these successors was Juan Bautista Martinez del Mazo, Velazquez’ son-in-law, and another, Juan de Pareja, his slave. Pareja’s talent was discovered by the king, who said: “A painter like you should not remain a slave,” and freedom was given to the Morisco serf of Velazquez.

In the work of Pareja the influence of his great master is naturally manifest, and this is seen in the picture in the Prado collection, “The Calling of{52} the Apostle Matthew.” It is certain that many paintings ascribed to Velazquez are the work of his son-in-law Juan del Mazo, who was a zealous copyist of the master’s art.

Juan Rizi, sometimes called the Castilian Zurbaran, is represented by one picture in the Madrid Gallery—“St Francis receiving the Stigmata or Five Wounds of Christ,” a work of very considerable merit.

Antonio Pereda worked in Madrid under Pedro de las Cuevas, and became painter to the Court. Two of Pereda’s pictures are in the Royal Gallery, displaying fine colour, but yet possessing no power to convince.

The next artist in chronological order who was associated with Madrid was Carreño de Miranda, another pupil of Pedro de las Cuevas, and the Pintor de Cámara to the Court. His talent is most marked in his portraits of Charles II.; and his imitations of Velazquez though feeble in comparison with the powerful work of his exemplar, are of singular interest and merit.

Claudio Coello was a native of Madrid, and the son of a Portuguese sculptor. Many of his paintings are to be seen at the Escorial, where he worked for seven years upon the famous “Santa Forma” in the Sacristia. It is said that Coello died{53} broken-hearted from the chagrin of being superseded by Luca Giordano, the facile Italian painter.

With the advent of Giordano the essential realism of Spanish painting began to decline. “In Madrid, imitation was the death-blow of reality,” writes C. Gasquoine Hartley in her “Record of Spanish Painting.” Many minor artists arose in Castile in this period of decline. They were followers of Giordano and other Italians, and for the greater part devoid of originality. The influence of Mengs was another menace to the development of a purely national school of painting in Spain, and the unimportant work of Bayeu, Maella, Barnuevo and others shows the waning of Castilian art.

A revival came with Francisco Goya, an ardent genius, who sprang from the people, and came to Madrid as a student. Goya studied the masterpieces in the Madrid galleries, visited Italy, and returned to the Castilian capital at about the age of thirty. Up to this time, Goya had painted but few pictures. Now he began his revolutionary career as an artist, and won fame, which has spread throughout the cultured world since his death. He soon became popular in Madrid. His daring and his pungent satire rather attracted than repelled the King, the clergy, and the society of the city. He painted the life of his day with a vivid,{54} unsparing brush; he took liberties with even sacred institutions, and derided ancient and effete traditions.

Under Charles IV., Goya was appointed Royal Painter. He was a favourite of Queen Maria Luisa, the Duchess of Alba, and the Countess Benavente, and he enjoyed the confidence of the King. And yet Goya was a rebel in his opinions and in his art, and his royal portraits are characterised by a brutal frankness. In his tapestry designs, his scenes of Madrid life, his bull-fighting incidents, his portraits, and his “caprichos,” he displays the versatility of a remarkable mind. Goya worked rapidly, and his output was enormous.

The celebrated “Dos de Mayo,” a terribly realistic war picture, together with “An Episode in the French Invasion,” may be studied in the Royal Gallery at Madrid. In the Prado collection there are several of Goya’s royal portraits—“The Family of Charles IV.,” with its unflattering realism; “Charles IV. on foot”; “Queen Maria Luisa”; “The Infante Don Carlos, son of Carlos IV.”; and others of great interest. More of Goya’s works may be inspected in the Academy of Fine Arts at Madrid. These include a portrait of the painter by himself, a bull-fighting scene, an{55} episode of the Inquisition, a procession, and other characteristic pictures.

When Joseph Bonaparte ruled in Madrid, Goya took the oath of fealty, and painted the usurper’s portrait. In 1814, the painter became a courtier of Ferdinand, and was pardoned for his disloyalty on the grounds that he was “a great artist.” A few years later, his wife Josefa died, and Goya, who was deaf, and bereft of many of his friends, seems to have wearied of the life of the Court at Madrid, and yearned for change and travel.

In 1822, he obtained the royal permission to visit France. He went first to Paris, where he was hailed by the young French painters, afterwards residing at Bordeaux, where he stayed for nearly five years before returning to Spain. In 1828, his restless spirit passed away.

Perhaps the finest of Goya’s portraits are those of the king and queen on horseback. It was Gautier who remarked of Goya that at times “he paints with the delicacy of that delicious Gainsborough, at other times he has the solid touch of Rembrandt.” Goya was one of the first of the moderns, an artist who broke from cramping tradition, and forced his way to eminence and even to popularity in a few years.

There is a long gap in the art history of Spain{56} between Francisco Goya and Fortuny. Mariano Fortuny was not a native of Madrid, but he came to the city in 1866. There are two of his pictures in the Museum of Modern Art in Madrid. One is a sketch for the “Battle of Tetuan,” and the other “The Queen Regent with Doña Isabel exhorting the Spanish Troops to withstand the Carlists.” Between Goya and Fortuny there are no links in the historic succession of artists, unless we regard Rosales and Galofré as national in the tendency of their art. There are two of Rosales’ pictures in the Museum of Modern Art in Madrid.

The National Museum of Painting and Sculpture, otherwise the Museo del Prado, was founded in the reign of Charles III., and planned by Villanueva. The work was interrupted by the war with France, and finished in the time of Ferdinand VII. Architecturally considered, the exterior of the museum is handsome and massive. Its chief defect is the poor quality of the light within. Its glory is the vast treasure of masterpieces of all the schools of Europe.

The works of the early Spanish painters may be here studied in the Long Gallery, beginning with Gallegos, whose pictures are catalogued as those of an unknown master. Pedro Berruguete shows the first example of the Italian influence. In the{57} paintings of Luis de Morales we trace the natural Spanish style, and discern that note of dramatic gloom and religious sentiment that characterises the true painters of Spain. Juan de Juanes, much esteemed in his age, reveals an Italianised art. In the works of Navarrete there is visible the influence of Titian, who worked with him at the Escorial Palace.

El Greco, who was taught in Venice, stands alone. The picture of “Jesus dead in the Arms of God the Father” is a representative work of this weird genius, whose art was Spanish, in spite of his Cretan origin. El Greco’s art is also conveyed in all its power in “The Baptism of Christ.” Many of this painter’s canvases are in Toledo, two are at the Escorial, one in the Cathedral of Seville, and his portrait, painted by himself, is in the Museo Provincial at Seville. The Prado Gallery contains nine of El Greco’s works.

Ribera is an artist whose work is singularly modern as regards technique, though he lived from 1588 to 1656.

The collection at the Prado contains a large number of the paintings of Ribera, the predecessor of Velazquez and Murillo, whose virile influence is manifest in the productions of many of the Spanish schools of the later period.{58}

Murillo is represented by about two score of paintings in the Prado, and by several pictures in the Royal Academy of Fine Arts. The Prado contains the “Sacred Family,” “The Penitent Magdalen,” “The Adoration of the Shepherds,” and several other well-known paintings.

We have already referred to the pictures by Velazquez and Goya to be seen in the Prado collection. It now remains to briefly enumerate some of the great works of the Italian and Northern Schools. Among the Italian Primitives, we have examples of the art of Fra Angelico and Mantegna, and of the later school, there are pictures of Raphael, Andrea del Sarto and Correggio. The Venetians are exampled by Giorgione, Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese, and Tiepolo. There are nearly fifty pictures from the brush of Titian. Among his earlier achievements are “Fertility” and the “Garden of Loves.” Here also are the portraits of “Charles V.” and “Philip II.,” the painting of “St Margaret,” and the famous “Entombment.”

Among the other Italian and Venetian pictures are Raphael’s “Holy Family and the Lamb,” Andrea del Sarto’s “Madonna and St John,” and two early works of Correggio.

In the collection of paintings of the Northern{59} School there are examples of Van Eyck and Rogier van der Weyden, and though some of these are copies, there is an authentic picture by Van der Weyden. The triptych of Memlinc is in this portion of the gallery, and Holbein’s “Portrait of a Man.” Rubens, “the third glory of the Prado,” is well represented by about sixty paintings. There are also paintings by Jordaens and Van Dyck.

The work of Antonio Moro should be carefully noted, as the art of this painter, who was the master of Coello, was the foundation of the Spanish School of Portraiture.

In the Museo de Arte Moderna there are many pictures by contemporary artists, and several groups of statuary. Among the paintings are works of Madrazo, Lopez, Pradilla, Casado, and Villegas.

The Real Academia de Bellas Artes, built in 1752, has a picture gallery containing some of the works of Murillo, Ribera, Zurbaran, Alonso Cano, and Rubens. Some interesting Goya sketches formerly in this collection have now been removed to the Prado.{60}

V

LITERATURE AND THE DRAMA
Madrid is the centre of the intellectual life of Spain. It contains a number of academies, colleges, schools, and libraries. The Royal Academy was not founded till 1713; but, as Bourgoanne pointed out in 1789, “there are undoubtedly in Spain more learned men who modestly cultivate the sciences; more men of erudition who are thoroughly acquainted with the history and jurisprudence of their country; more distinguished men of letters and a greater number of poets, who have energy and a fertile and brilliant imagination, than is generally imagined.”

Science and letters suffered after the period of Quevedo, Cervantes, Calderon, and Garcilaso, and there was a rapid decline in learning until the eighteenth century. Under Charles III. the cultured life of Madrid was revived. Charles was opposed to the clerical restrictions upon knowledge, and the banning of science was not a part of his policy. He withstood the reaction{61}ary forces of the country, and, being himself a man of scholarly tastes, he re-awakened the moribund respect for culture. To encourage the production of books, Charles III. freed all printers from military service. He renewed the universities, built new schools, and treated teachers and professors with fairness and respect, declaring that education is the most important of all social affairs.

This revival of learning and of literature was unfortunately transient, for under Charles IV. free discussion was almost impossible in Spain; authors were gagged, and the Inquisition was revived. The study of moral philosophy was forbidden in the universities of the country, for Charles declared that he had no use for philosophers.

The first large public library in Madrid was the San Isidro, founded by the Jesuits, and containing about 60,000 volumes. The National Library was built in 1712, but the books were removed to another building about thirty years after. There is a library in connection with the Royal Academy of History in the Calle del León, which contains several thousand books and a number of valuable ancient manuscripts. The University has its own collection of books. This{62} institution was founded in 1508 at Alcalá, and brought to Madrid in 1836. There are about 8000 students.

The old Court of Castile had many poets and satirists from the days of Juan II. In the thirteenth century, Castilian became the polite speech of the nation, and the earliest ballads were written in this language. These ballads are the basis of much of the history of Spain, and this was the first form of literature in the city of Madrid. Under Alfonso X. of Castile, who was as skilled in letters as in the conduct of the State, the art of poetry reached a higher order than it had hitherto attained in Spain.

Francisco de Quevedo Villegas, the great satirical poet and prose author, was born in Madrid in 1580. His parents were of patrician stock, and his mother was one of the royal household. Quevedo was sent to the college of Alcalá de Henares, where he was instructed in several subjects, including law and medicine. A quarrel with a hidalgo, whom he seriously injured in a duel, caused the flight of the young student to Italy. Upon his return to his native country, Quevedo was arrested, and kept in prison for about three years. Later, he was again{63} put into confinement for a satire upon the Count, Duke de Olivares.

Quevedo was a voluminous writer. His works have been collected in the “Biblioteca de Autores Españoles,” in three big volumes of poetry and prose, while many of his compositions were left unpublished. The “Visions” are perhaps his most popular work. They were translated into English in 1668, and published in London, and met with such success that the volume reached an eleventh edition in 1715. Since then there have been other editions issued in this country.

Calderon lived at number seventy-five in the Calle Mayor, formerly called the Calle de Almudena, and in the same street was born Lope de Vega, the most prolific of Spanish dramatists. In the Plaza de Santa Ana, near the Teatro Español, is a monument to Calderon erected in 1879. It is the work of Figuéras, and a figure of Fame stands by the dramatist; the base of the statue has reliefs from scenes in the plays.

Calderon was of noble blood, and found influential patronage in Madrid. We read that Philip IV. gave him the order of Santiago, and appointed him director of the theatre and public entertainments. Pedro Calderon entered the church at the age of fifty-two. He died in the year 1681.{64}

At number fifteen Calle de Cervantes there is a memorial tablet to Lope de Vega, with the inscription that the writer set upon his house: “A small possession of one’s own is great; a great possession of another is small.”

Lope de Vega was born in Madrid in 1562. For a time he was secretary to the Duke of Alba, but, after wounding an opponent in a duel, he fled from the city. His power of production was marvellous, and it is said that he wrote a play of three acts, in verse, in twenty-four hours. He died in 1631.

Cervantes was intimately associated with Madrid, though Alcalá de Henares is claimed as his birthplace. The greatest author of Spain came to the capital in his youth, to study for one of the learned professions, and here he lived under the tutelage of Juan Lopez de Hoyos.

After serving as chamberlain in Rome to Cardinal Aquaviva, Cervantes, at the age of twenty-four, joined the expedition against Turkey, and for several years he passed an adventurous life on sea and land. Returning to Madrid, he lived with relatives, and began to apply his mind seriously to study, and to the cultivation of his literary gift. In Madrid he wrote a number of comedies and novels, but he left the city for{65} Seville, where he obtained more lucrative employment as a government official. The first part of the masterpiece “Don Quixote” was published in Madrid in 1605.

Cervantes died in 1616 from dropsy, and his body was laid to rest in Madrid. In the Plaza de las Cortes is a memorial in bronze to the greatest of the romance writers of Spain. It was designed by Antonio Sola, and set up in 1835. There are reliefs on the pedestal of the monument depicting episodes from “Don Quixote.”

The Church of San Francisco el Grande, the National Pantheon, was built in 1784 on the site of a convent; but it was not established as a mausoleum until 1869. It has been decorated at great expense and with much taste, and is not altogether an unworthy repository for the ashes of the illustrious dead. Here are supposed to rest the remains of Guzman, Cervantes, Lope de Vega, and Velazquez, but the tombs have not been identified. In 1869 the ashes of Morales, Juan Mena, Quevedo, Calderon, the Great Captain, and other illustrious Spaniards were placed here, but all of these have since been restored to their original resting-places.

The Italian opera was introduced into Spain{66} by Charles III. The country has not produced any very eminent operatic composers, though opera is a popular entertainment. In the drama Spain excelled at one period above all other countries. The plays of the nation were exceedingly numerous in the palmy days, ranging from sacred representations, or miracle dramas, to farce. Many of the subjects were historical; but with the decline of taste, the drama lost its Greek simplicity, and became the vehicle of complicated intrigues and artificial plots. Cervantes, as dramatist, endeavoured to check this corruption of taste, but the pressure of poverty forced him to follow the conventions of the hour, and to write on a level with the intelligence of his audiences.

Lope de Vega wrote about eighteen hundred plays. Much of his work is hasty, extravagant and bombastic. Calderon wrote with more directness and simplicity of style, and spent far more pains upon his compositions. Augustin Moreto produced thirty-six plays, which rank high from the literary point of view. De Castro, de Roscas, and de Solis are three of the more esteemed comedy authors of a later period, whose pieces were played in Madrid.

Galdos, who is the author of several novels{67} and plays, resides in Madrid, in the Paseo de Areneros. Doña Emilia Pardo de Bazan, the most powerful of the women writers of Spain, says: “The life of the playwright in Madrid is more active, agitated, and arduous than other branches of the literary career, which languish and sleep for want of stimulus.” Most of the dramatists of the nation live in Madrid, or spend part of the year there. Among them are José Echegaray, now the leading playwright, Guimerá, Eugenio Sellés, Dicenta, Vital Aza, Abati Ricardo de la Vega, Garcia, and Paso.

Poets living in Madrid are Emilio Ferrari, Grilo, Manuel del Palacio, the Marquis de Cerralbo, the Duke de Rivas, Eduardo Benot, and Melchor de Palau. There are also several writers of humorous verse, such as López Silva, Pérez de Zúñiga, and Luis de Tapia.

The great novelist, Armando Palacio Valdés—who, in his novel, “Froth,” gives a true picture of Madrid manners—lives in the city occasionally. Here, too, reside Father Luis Coloma, Blasco Ibañez, Baroja, José Ortega Munilla, Antonio de Hoyos, and several other writers of fiction. Doña Emilia Pardo de Bazan lives in Madrid.

Among the celebrated journalists are Cavia,{68} Kasabal, Azorin, Claudio Frollo, Luis Morote, Troyano, and “Zeda” (Sr. Fernandez Villegas).

The Madrileños appreciate the drama—in small doses—and support fourteen theatres, of which the most frequented are the Teatro Real, belonging to the State, the Español, belonging to the Municipality, the Princesa, Comedia, Lara, Apolo, and Zarzuela. As elsewhere in Spain, each performance consists of three or more short pieces or sketches—zarzuelas and saynetes—almost always dealing with aspects of popular life. To foreigners this persistent harping on the amours of the policeman and flower-girl and the vicissitudes of a chairmender’s career is a little surprising. The legitimate drama has been almost driven from the boards in Spain, despite the efforts of Señora Guerrero—the Spanish Bernhardt—to revive it, some years ago. This lady’s husband is the Marquis de Mendoza, who follows the same profession, to do which he required the special authorisation of the Council of State. Spain does not want for good actors and actresses, despite the loss of Vico, Calvo, and the ever-popular Emilio Mario. Maria Tubau is an able interpreter of Ibsen and Sudermann (when the opportunity presents itself), and the names of Thuillier, Pinelo, and Carmen Cobeña{69} deserve mention. Naturalism has by no means asserted its sway over the Spanish theatre, and the entertainments, as the old play-bills used to say, are still largely frequented by ladies and children. Every one smokes during the performances, and talks frantically during the entr’actes. The theatres are comfortable and well upholstered. English visitors will be struck by the absence of programmes, the place of which is often taken by some such sheet as Blanco y Negro.

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{70} 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{71} 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.{72}

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.{73}

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.{74}

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{75} 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{76} 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{77} 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{78} 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{79} 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.{80} 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{81} 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.{82}

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{83} 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{84} 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{85}—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{86} 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{87} 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{88} 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 de{89}signed 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{90} 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{91} 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{92} 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{93} 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{94} 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{95} 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{96} 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{97} 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{98} 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{99} 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{100} (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{101} 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{102} 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{103} 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.{104}

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{105} 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{106} 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{107} 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{108} 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{109} 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{110} 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{111} 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.

The dome of the Pantheon is covered by the steep flight of steps leading to the chancel, so that{112} Mass is literally celebrated above the bodies of the kings. The altar, which cost about £(?)40,000, is isolated, and is made of marble and jasper, a single slab of the latter stone forming the table. According to the inscription on a bronze plate let into the back of the altar, it contains relics of Saints Peter and Paul, Lawrence and Vincent, and a multitude of other saints, and was consecrated in presence of Philip by the Papal Nuncio, Camillo Caietano, Patriarch of Alexandria, on August 30th, 1595. The beauty of the reredos or retablo is obscured by the dark hue of the stone employed, and by the sombre colour assumed by the paintings in course of the years. The light also is very bad. The three stages into which the retablo is divided correspond to the three Grecian orders of architecture. The columns are of dark red and green jasper, with capitals and pedestals of bronze gilt. The statues represent (looking upwards) the Four Doctors of the Church, the Four Evangelists, St James and St Andrew, St Peter and St Paul. The paintings depict the Nativity and Adoration of the Magi, the Saviour bearing the Cross, the Scourging at the Pillar, the Martyrdom of Saint Lawrence, the Resurrection, the Descent of the Holy Ghost and the Assumption. The cross{113} surmounting the whole was made from the wood of the Portuguese warship, “the Five Wounds.” The architect of this fine work was the Milanese Giacomo Trezzo, the painters Tibaldi and Zuccaro, the sculptors Leone and Pompeio Leoni. The sanctuary to the east contains the superb tabernacle, designed by Herrera and executed by Trezzo, with instruments invented by him for the purpose. It was restored in 1827 by “the pious and august” Ferdinand VII. after it had been rifled and damaged by the French. The reliquaries in the sanctuary contain ten entire bodies of saints, 144 heads, and 306 entire arms and legs. Among these relics is the thigh of Saint Lawrence, showing the roasted flesh and the holes made by the skewers.

The sceptical foreigner will probably be more interested by the statues above the oratorios or royal tribunes surrounding the altar. We see Charles V. with his wife, daughters and sisters, Philip II. with all his wives, except Mary Tudor, and his son, the miserable Infante Carlos. It was not altogether a happy idea to represent a Christian prince attended at the same time by his three wives. All these statues are faithful portraits. The oratorio on the Epistle side adjoins the bare, narrow chamber in which the{114} devout king breathed his last, quitting without regret a world with which he had no sympathy and in which he moved as a melancholy exile.

The church contains forty-eight side chapels and altars, adorned by the paintings of Coello, Navarrete, and others of less note. The best pictures are to be seen in the Sacristia. Here there are several works of Titian, Tintoretto, El Greco, Zurbaran, and Ribera. The most interesting canvas is the “Santa Forma” by Claudio Coello. The heads are portraits of Charles II. and his ministers. The incident depicted is the ceremony of the Veneration of the Sacred Wafer, which being trodden upon and defiled by Protestants at Gorinchem in Holland, is said to have exuded blood. It is preserved behind the picture and exhibited twice a year.

Immediately under the high altar is the Pantheon, the last resting-place of the kings and queens of Spain. It is an octagonal chamber, lined with precious marbles, which also in the dreadfully sensible presence of death, seem to be decaying. No such rich chamber was desired by Philip. It dates from 1554.

Twenty-six marble urns placed in niches round the chamber contain all that was mortal of the monarchs of Spain and their consorts from Charles{115} V. to Alfonso XII., Philip V. and Ferdinand VI. excepted. There are tombs, too, awaiting the living. Ascending the steps we pass the sealed door of the Pudridero, where the bodies are kept five years before being placed in the Pantheon, and may visit the burial chambers reserved to the Infantes and Infantas. Several of the vaults are still empty. They are in purer, colder style than the heavier Pantheon of the kings. As one ascends to the living world from these awful chambers, the question suggests itself, what is the object of it all? The Pyramids of Nile ought to have convinced man once for all of the hopelessness of any effort to preserve his body unprofaned and solemnly housed through all the years. No matter how great the dynasty, how strong the tomb, the day must come when the jealously and reverently guarded ashes will form the prey of some ghoulish invader. With Rameses exposed to the gaze of wondering Cockneys, with Alexander’s tomb an object of curiosity to tourists in the museum at Stamboul, with the tombs of the kings of Judah explored on allfours by Cook’s trippers, how can one hope for an eternal immunity from profanation for the Invalides, for Westminster, for the Escorial? Kings ought to have learnt the lesson that in the pages{116} of history alone can they look for an earthly immortality.

The convent occupies the southern part of the building. It was inhabited, as I have said, by the religious known as the Hermits of St Jerome or Hieronymites, an Order established or recognised by Pope Gregory XI. in 1373. If it still exists it counts very few members and has played an insignificant part in ecclesiastical history compared with the spiritual descendants of Benedict, Dominic, Francis, Bruno, and Ignatius. For some reason or other Charles V. held the Hermits in particular esteem, and it was this predilection that determined his son to offer them the new monastery in 1561. The Order is likely to be best remembered by the ecclesiologist for the peculiar plan of its churches—cruciform, with diagonal lines extending from the ends of the cross-piece to the head of the upright limb.

The granite cloisters in the Doric style are, or rather were, decorated with frescoes after designs of Tibaldi, now shockingly “restored.” In the centre of the Patio de los Evangelistas is a little octagonal temple, covering a fountain. It is one of Herrera’s best works, in which granite and marble have been combined with admirable skill. The white statues of the Evangelists at the corners{117} were sculptured by Monegro; the appropriate inscriptions are in Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Syriac.

The three Chapter Rooms of the monastery form a picture gallery of high interest. Titian is represented by a Last Supper—sadly restored; Tintoretto, by “Christ washing His Disciples’ feet,” “Christ at the house of the Pharisee,” and “Queen Esther”—all bought from the Collection of our Charles I. by the Spanish Ambassador—and by an “Ecce Homo,” “Entombment,” “Adoration of the Shepherds,” and “Annunciation”; Velazquez, by “The sons of Jacob”—perhaps the best work in the collection; El Mudo, by the “Martyrdom of St James”; El Greco, by the “Dream of Philip II. (Glory, Purgatory, and Hell)”; Ribera, by several canvasses. There is a good “Martyrdom of St. Lawrence” by Titian in the old chapel, and a few good pictures, especially by El Mudo, in the upper cloisters, reached by a grand staircase. One of the halls is called the Aula de Moral, being reserved for conferences on points of morality.

The Library is decidedly of more interest than the Convent. The books, oddly enough, are arranged with the faces, instead of the backs, outwards. The cases of ebony and cedar were{118} designed by Herrera and harmonise well with the marble pavement and tables. There are several portraits of sovereigns here, and in cases are arranged some of the rarer books, such as the prayer-books of Charles V., Isabel the Catholic, Philip III., etc., a Virgil of the fifteenth century, and an eleventh century Codex, with the four Gospels written in letters of gold. This priceless work was begun by order of Conrad II., Emperor of the Romans. Eighteen pounds’ weight of gold is said to have been employed in the illumination.

The beginning of the collection was Philip’s own library, of 4000 volumes, to which was added in 1614 the valuable library of the Sultan of Morocco. It has of course been increased by other collections from time to time. The Arabic MSS., though not as numerous as might be expected, are extremely valuable. Gayangos, that patient Spanish Orientalist, I am informed, never had the opportunity of inspecting them.

The palace occupies the northern side of the huge edifice. It forms the least meritorious part of Herrera’s design, and was not improved by the alterations effected by order of Charles IV. The halls are dull, dreary, and altogether in the style of the eighteenth century—a sufficient condemnation. Those were days when every monarch{119} wanted a Versailles: we see the same effort at imitation at Caserta, at the Superga, at Wilhelmshöhe and Philippsruhe. There is, of course, a Hall of Battles, celebrating with the exception of the pictures of the fight at St Quentin, Lepanto, and Higueruela, victories over the Dutch and Flemings. National self-glorification may be carried too far, but in England we are too forgetful of our glorious past. We do not dream of adorning our palaces with pictures of Crecy, Poitiers, Agincourt, Blenheim, Trafalgar, and Waterloo. You may search England in vain for monuments to William the Conqueror, the founder of the monarchy, to Edward, our great justiciar, to the Black Prince, to de Montfort or to Langton, to whom we owe our constitutional liberties. One unacquainted with our history might suppose we sprang into existence a bare century ago. In a generally conservative country like ours, this complete detachment from the past appears strangely contradictory.

This vast, empty palace contains little of interest except the two rooms inhabited by Philip. Within them all is austerity and simplicity—as befitted a king who was a monk at heart. The walls are whitewashed, the flooring of brick. The footstools remind us of the gout{120} from which the sad king suffered—certainly not from over-indulgence in the good things of life. In this room he worked from four in the morning till midnight, his labours interrupted only by his fervent devotions. The adjoining chamber is the oratorio, of which I have already spoken, where he could assist at the celebration of Mass. Here, at the end of a two months’ illness, patiently borne, he died, grasping the very crucifix with which his father had been consoled during his last moments. His death, at any rate, was happier and more dignified than that of his victorious rival, Elizabeth, writhing out her life at Richmond in an ecstasy of remorse and chagrin.

Adjacent to the Escorial are several blocks of buildings, such as the Campaña, containing the domestic offices, and the Casa del Principe, the Petit Trianon of the palace, surrounded by gardens. In these may be seen the cross marking the spot where the baker’s boy was burnt at the stake in Philip’s reign. A queer site for a palace dedicated to the “menus plaisirs”!

The Escorial has been the scene of some important historical events, notably of the arrest and imprisonment of the Infante Ferdinand, on the charge of high treason against his father in{121} 1807. He was afterwards Ferdinand VII. The prince was confined in the Prior’s cell and managed to communicate with his friends by the aid of a fishing line. Charles IV. had no option but to pardon his son, whose intrigues resulted indirectly in the spoliation of the palace which had been his prison, by the French a year or two later.

Not without relief will the visitor leave these interminable halls and corridors over which broods the presence of death, and seek the little Silla del Rey, or King’s Chair, a mile and a half from the pile. It is a natural seat, formed of granite rocks, where Philip used to watch the progress of the building operations. It is worth visiting as affording one of the pretty views to be obtained in the midst of a generally uninviting district.

After a visit to the Escorial, the Palace of La Granja will seem what it was intended to be—the house of life and gaiety. At any other time it would seem a rather dull and depressing imitation of Versailles. It is called the Grange or Farm and appropriately enough is in the midst of charming scenery. Trees afford a shade not too often to be found in barren, scorched Castile. And in the background the snowy Guadarrama lift their heads above the pine forests. On the{122} whole one does not blame Philip V. for his choice of a royal domain, or wonder why the present King’s father and mother spent much of their time here, soon after their marriage. Yet at this height of 4000 feet above the sea, it must be an Arctic spot at all seasons except summer. La Granja—or San Ildefonso, to give it its official name—is the residence of the Court in summer. If the Escorial expresses in stone the character of its founder, the same cannot be said of this palace, for the fifth Philip was of almost as gloomy a temper as the first. He spent very little time at the pleasaunce he had decreed, for he died a few months after its completion in 1746. Here in 1724 he abdicated the throne in favour of his son, Don Luis, on whose death eight months later he was constrained to resume the royal authority.

The palace itself is not a very interesting structure. The principal façade dates from 1737, and is buttressed by columns and pilasters, supporting an entablature and balustrade. Over the middle rises an attic story, also surmounted with a balustrade, supported by four Caryatides representing the seasons, between them being the coat-of-arms of Spain and the Bourbons. This front was designed by Juvarra, and is the most tasteful portion of the building, to which{123} additions have been made at different epochs with little regard to harmony or good taste. The interior, however, reflects the taste of the present august occupants. Much of the heavy rubbish accumulated in preceding centuries has been relegated to the lumber room, and the vast halls and corridors have been refurnished throughout. Rich tapestries cover the walls, and the palace still contains upwards of 300 pictures, though the finest works of art have gone to fill the galleries of Madrid. The chapel is only worth visiting for the tombs of Philip V. and his Italian Queen.

But if the Palace of San Ildefonso hardly rewards the visitor for his journey from Madrid, the park is a thing of beauty and a joy at least during a long day. Here flourish the elm, the lime, the pine, and the chestnut, forming delicious woods. In the ornamental gardens exists the very finest system of fountains the world has seen. Philip V. far surpassed the achievements of the Roi Soleil in this direction. The first visit is naturally to the lake, a beautiful expanse of water on the bank of which is situated the important piscicultural establishment, founded in 1867 by the King-Consort Francisco.

The gardens are filled with statues of mytho{124}logical characters, grouped with great skill among the foliage. Those most admired are the Lucretia, Daphne, Phœbus, and America. Especially beautiful is the group of Diana and her nymphs surprised by Actæon, in the centre of a magnificent fountain. Contemplating the play of the waters Philip V. is said to have exclaimed “This has amused me three minutes and cost me three millions.” A still finer and taller column of water issues from the Trumpet of Fame, breaking in a shower of crystalline drops 130 feet above the water level; while miniature rainbows interlace and form an aureole round the head of the figure. In the centre of another lake, Latona is seen, embracing her children, while her enemies, transformed into frogs, vomit forth jets of water in impotent rage, which cross and recross, forming arches in bewildering variety.

There is nothing equal to this to be seen elsewhere. The achievements of the immortal Mr Brock with fire have been eclipsed by Renato Firmin with the conflicting element. Spain can boast the finest display of hydrotechnics in the world.

Before we leave this favourite home of His Catholic Majesty it is worth while to recall a few of the events of which it has been the theatre. On{125} the 17th September 1832, Ferdinand VII. lay here dying. All those round him—his family, his ministers, even the garrison—were devoted to the interests of Don Carlos, and even his confessor ceased not to importune the dying king to revoke the Pragmatic Sanction and to decree the exclusion of his own infant daughter from the throne. Queen Cristina, in the face of such pressure, remained inactive and despairing. With his hand guided, it is said, by the Bishop of Leon, Ferdinand at last traced his feeble signature to the decree which disinherited his child. The triumph of the Carlist faction seemed complete. Suddenly at the doors of the palace appeared the Queen’s sister, Doña Luisa Carlota, a woman of such spirit that no one there—minister or officer or prelate—dared bar her way to the King’s bedside. The court presently resounded with her shrill denunciations of the Queen’s want of courage, of the King’s weakness. She summoned to her presence the trembling minister, Calomarde, and when he offered his hand, struck him on the face. “White hands do not wound” stammered the statesman and fled from the presence of the royal mænad. Before such a tempest of righteous indignation, intriguers and schemers retired. Force at the last can always break through the{126} meshes of treachery. Many of those who witnessed the memorable scene must have thought of the furious bull at Madrid which bore down before it the most dexterous of banderilleros, the bravest of espadas, and breaking over the barriers, dispersed a whole population. Before nightfall the decree was revoked and the succession of the Infanta Isabella confirmed anew by royal decree. Bravo Luisa Carlota!

Four years later, Cristina, now regent, had to face alone and unprotected, a mob headed by the palace guard, which broke into her room, loudly demanding the re-establishment of the Constitution of 1812. The Queen, unmoved and tactful, asked the deputation if they knew what the constitution was. According to the Honourable John Hay (see his “Castilian Days”) they replied, “No, but we hear it is a good thing, and will make salt cheaper.” The story like most good ones, is certainly untrue, and may be classed with the legend that in 1893 when there was an agitation in Belgium for an extended franchise, some peasant women presented themselves at the Town Hall with buckets to carry away their share of the “Suffrage!”

The only other royal residence which can form the goal of an excursion from Madrid is El Pardo,{127} a shooting-box on a large scale, six miles from the capital. The hunting seat built here by Enrique III. was replaced by a palace in 1543. The building is very simple, and contains but a single court. The walls in the interior are hung with tapestries after the designs of Goya (made in Madrid) and Teniers (made at Les Gobelins). Students of Spanish art should visit this palace for a sight of the best of the very few remaining works of Gaspar Becerra—the Legend of Perseus and Andromeda. The chapel contains a copy of Ribalta’s altar-piece in Magdalen Chapel, Oxford. Over the staircase is a fine equestrian portrait of Don John of Austria, attributed to Ribera. These works of art having been inspected, there is little to detain you at El Pardo. The shooting in the adjacent covers is excellent, but few of my readers will have the time or opportunity to prove this for themselves.{128}

VII

ALCALÁ DE HENARES
Twenty-one miles from Madrid, on a plain two thousand feet above sea-level, is the little town of Alcalá de Henares, whose annals are so intimately associated with the history of Spain that it deserves more than passing mention. In 1510, Alcalá was a famous University town, esteemed equally with Salamanca, and frequented by the most learned professors, doctors, and students of that age. Here, it is claimed, was born the great Miguel Cervantes, and in the church of Santa Maria he was baptised in 1547. Catharine of Aragon, first of the wives of Henry VIII. of England, was a native of the place. But long before the sixteenth century, Alcalá de Henares was a town of importance, for the Romans settled here, and named the centre Complutum, while the Moors, at a later date, fortified the Roman station and called it the “stronghold” or “castle.”

Until the University, founded here by Cardinal Ximenez, was removed to Madrid, Alcalá de Henares was a town of note, populated by over{129} ten thousand students. As early as the thirteenth century the Court frequently sat here to administer the fueros, and Alcalá was one of the first bishoprics founded in Spain. Cervantes speaks of the town of his birth as “the famous Complutum”; and Erasmus, in a letter to Vives, relates that “the cultivation of languages and polite letters has given celebrity to the University of Alcalá, whose principal ornament is that illustrious and truly worthy old man, Anthony de Nebrija, who has outstripped many Nestors.”

The students of the Alcalá University were a very merry community. Many are the tales repeated of their frolics, their escapades, and their Bohemianism. They prided themselves upon the carelessness of their dress, and at holiday time sang to the guitar for chance coppers thrown from the windows. Yet there were many serious students in the colleges, which numbered about twenty, and many youths sat at the feet of the sage teachers and learned lecturers who were retained by Cardinal Ximenez for the instruction of the pupils. Cervantes was among the students of Alcalá before he went to Madrid; but we read that he was not much inclined to follow the academic course, preferring poetry and romance to the dry tomes of theology and philosophy.{130}

The ancient University was first established on the site of the present Colegio de San Ildefonso, which was built in 1583. Two celebrated architects, Gumiel and Gil de Hontañon, designed the building, and showed great taste in planning the front and the patios. The amphitheatre, in which the honours of the college were bestowed upon diligent students, and the chapel, are fairly preserved, and contain some interesting memorials of the days of prosperity and culture at Alcalá. In design the chapel is a curious mixture of the Renaissance and Morisco styles of architecture.

Ximenez, more correctly called Cisneros, is one of the most impressive figures in Spanish history. He was a shrewd politician, a profound pietist, a promoter of learning, an ascetic, and an exemplar in works of charity. He was, however, tainted with fanaticism, and at his direction many hundreds of ancient Arabic books were burned, a step the wisdom of which is still a matter of controversy. From 1516 till his death in 1518, the Cardinal held the regency of Castile, an office which provoked the resentment of many old and noble houses in the kingdom, for, though Ximenez was of high birth, he came of an impoverished family. Upon being challenged by the grandees for his authority, the Cardinal led{131} a deputation to the window of his palace, and pointing to a body of armed men in the courtyard, said: “By these powers I govern Castile until Prince Carlos shall arrive or shall supersede me.”

The worsting of the French invaders in Navarre was due to the militant Cardinal’s tactics. He dismantled the forts, except Pamplona, which he rendered almost unassailable, and having garrisoned the capital of the kingdom, he defied the troops of France. To him also Spain owed the establishment of a militia, or citizen army, though the institution found little favour with the populace. Although Ximenez undoubtedly checked the study of Hebrew and Arabic in Spain, it must be remembered that his energy and his zeal secured the University of Alcalá de Henares, and that he produced here the great Polyglot Bible hence called the Complutensian. The books which this censor permitted to be used were “Catechisms, solid and simple explanations of Christian doctrine, and other writings calculated to enlighten the minds of the people.”

A noteworthy figure connected with the history of Alcalá de Henares was the learned and liberal-minded Nebrija, a reformer of a very different cast of intellect from that of Cardinal Ximenez who proved, however, his generous protector.{132} Antonio de Nebrija was the Erasmus of Spain. He spent ten years of study in Italy, and returned to lecture at the University of Alcalá and to encourage learning among his countrymen. Although Nebrija encountered strong opposition in certain quarters, he strove till his old age to improve education in Spain, and contrived to gain the countenance of many persons of high position. Queen Isabella the Catholic was herself amongst his pupils.

The surroundings of Alcalá de Henares are austere and bleak; and if it were not for the hills that screen the town from the north, it would be considerably colder and more wind-swept than it is. A stream meanders by the town, and elms and poplars grow on this green upland of the sierras; but the environs of Alcalá cannot be called sylvan. Towards Meco, at one time a Moorish settlement, the country is of a softer and more pastoral character, enlivened by numerous mountain rivulets. This village is about four miles from Alcalá.

The Archbishop’s Palace is one of the monuments of the place, and it is now used as a repository for historical archives. Berruguete and other celebrated architects planned the building, which has some interesting patios and a fine{133} staircase, showing the ornate tendency of the age in which the palace was designed.

The Colegiata has been restored. Its chief object of interest is the beautiful monument to Cardinal Ximenez, by Fancelli, an Italian sculptor. Juan Francés executed the reja, or screen, of the chapel in this edifice, and the saints Justo and Pastor, to whom the Colegiata is dedicated, were buried in the vault.

In Santa Maria, an unimposing church, Cervantes was christened; and upon the house where he was born we shall find an inscription containing a tribute to his genius. Several towns in Spain claim to be the birthplace of the author of “Don Quixote,” and it is not absolutely proved that he was born at Alcalá de Henares. There is, however, scarcely any doubt that he was baptised here, for the registers contain an entry of his baptism, and, as children in Spain were christened almost immediately after their birth, there is perhaps the strongest claim to be set forth by the townspeople, who aver that Alcalá is “the real birthplace of the immortal Cervantes.”

Still following the windings of the river Henares, we may reach Guadalajara in a rail journey of about fourteen miles from Alcalá. Here the Castilian landscape is of a less severe{134} aspect, and the Roman and Moorish associations of the town tempt the traveller to linger for a while. The situation of Guadalajara is elevated, and the Romans made it a fortified place, and built an aqueduct from the hills.

The Palace of the Duke del Infantado is the most interesting building in the town. It is in the blended styles of the Goths and the reconciled Moors, and the patios are beautifully decorated, though much of the ornamentation of the interior has suffered the impairment of age and neglect.

On our way from Madrid to these fascinating towns of Castile we gain a glimpse of the stern order of the natural surroundings amongst which Cervantes was reared. This is not “the sunny Spain” of the south, but the Spain of the hardy Castilians, and the country of wind-searched highlands, where vegetation is thin, and whole districts are without foliage and shade. The towns and villages are often in green oases of the dreary table-land, but some of them are among the rocks of this sterile region, and exposed to snowstorms and hurricanes. Were it not for the system of irrigation which the Spaniards learned from the Moors, the plight of the farmer upon these table-lands would be melancholy indeed; but even in the bleakest territory the system of{135} artificially watering the parched, sun-baked soil works wonders, and grain crops smile here and there among the savage hill-slopes of the despoblados or wastes, and almost everywhere flocks gain pasturage in the summer.{136}

VIII

THE BULL-FIGHT
The origin and antiquity of bull-fighting in Spain is a subject that has engaged the minds of many writers, and led to much research and interminable discussion. It is most probable that those who incline to the opinion that this pastime was instituted by the Romans are in the right, though there is undoubted evidence that the Moors, if they did not introduce the corrida, or lidia, adopted it, and carried bull-fighting to perfection. The sport, however, seems to accord more with the character of the Roman than the Moorish conquerors of Spain, for the Romans possessed a passion for scenes of combat in the arena between gladiators and fierce animals, whereas there is no such strong testimony to show that the Moors took an equal delight in these feats of the circus.

The taurilia of the Romans resembled the fights with bulls that may be witnessed to-day in every large town of Spain. Whatever may have been the origin of these contests, it is certain that, since{137} the days of the Moors, the bull-fight has endured as the chief recreation of all classes of the population. There is in no other country any sport that can be compared with it in importance and in the sway of its fascination upon the public. The passion for horse-racing in England is not general, and the diversion owes its popularity in a large degree to the chances of gambling which it offers. Eliminate betting from the turf, and you will find that those who “follow racing” simply from an enthusiasm for rearing and running horses, and those who enjoy the amusement from the mere pleasure of watching competitions in speed between horses form an almost insignificant minority. In this country where horse-racing is regarded as a national pastime, the proportion of the populace that takes any interest in the breeding of the horses, the technique of riding, and racing per se is greatly restricted. But this is not the case with bull-fighting in Spain. Here every one from the noble to the mule-driver is learned in all the rules of the game, keenly critical of the exploits of the performers in the ring, and ever ready to talk with fervour upon the absorbing topic.

The hold which this pastime has upon the Spanish imagination is so strong that it is a part of the national character, as deep-seated as the{138} sentiments of piety and loyalty, and as powerful as the feeling of patriotism. King or peasant, man or woman, every native of Spain is a lover of the corrida; every child plays at bull-fighting as soon as he can walk; and every youth, who would be thought manly and a true son of Spain, yearns to emulate the courage and the dexterity of the espada.

Hundreds of volumes have been written in Spain upon the art of bull-fighting, the history of the ring, the lives of eminent toreros, and the records of famous arenas. Bull-fighting has produced an array of ardent chroniclers, poets, and hosts of journalists, and it has quickened the brush or pencil of artists from before the time of Goya down to Zuloaga.

The breeding of bulls for the ring may be described as one of the national industries of Spain. Noblemen endeavour to keep up the breed and the fighting qualities of bulls, and the rearing of bulls is the proper occupation of a gentleman. The beautiful Duchess of Alba, the friend of Goya, was an enthusiastic admirer of the sport, and a breeder of bulls. The vacadas or breeding establishments of Andalusia produce the finest fighting bulls. They are considered fit for the combat, or warrantable, at the age of five{139} years, when their value averages about £50 each. Over a thousand of these highly-bred animals are killed in the bull-rings of Spain annually, while the number of horses gored to death is very much larger.

In the old days bull-fights were mimic representations of warfare, in which the true caballero aspired to take part and to distinguish himself. The toreros were amateurs belonging to high families, and several of the kings of Spain were expert exponents of the art of the espada. Accidents and deaths in the arena were of common occurrence, sometimes several knights were killed during a single performance. At all royal fêtes a bull-fight was part of the amusement provided. If a prince was born, or married, the event was celebrated by a grand display of bull-fighting, while the coronation of a sovereign was always made the occasion for a brilliant spectacle in the ring. In Madrid these fights were held in the Plaza Mayor, a big quadrangle in the centre of the city. The plaza is surrounded by houses of several storeys high, having balconies and an arcade. The Panaderia, or Royal Bakery, served as a royal stand, and here the Court assembled in the balconies to witness the feats of the grandees, who engaged the fierce bulls with lances. No one{140} of vulgar rank was permitted to take part in the contest.

In the early days the torero sometimes encountered the bull with a spear, on foot, as may be seen in old bull-fighting prints. The use of horses in the ring came later. Dogs were often set upon the bulls, to incense them, and up to the year 1840 bears and other animals were introduced into the ring. These combats have been abandoned. In the old bull-fighting bills we read of “a grand fight between a big elephant and two big bulls.” The dogs were of proven courage, and bred for strength and endurance. They often succeeded in pinning the bull by the nose, and holding his head down; but frequently they lost their lives on the points of his horns. Théophile Gautier, in “Wanderings in Spain,” describes this bull-baiting by dogs.

Despite the passion which the Spaniard has always exhibited for the bull-fight, the amusement has been more than once condemned by the Church and State. But such edicts and acts have been withdrawn, and the crowd has once more thronged the amphitheatre. Pope Pius V. issued a proclamation against bull-fighting in the year 1567, but in 1576 Pope Clement VIII. revoked the measure. At a much later date the corrida was{141} interdicted by Godoy, but the sport was again revived, and continues to flourish at the present time. The opponents of the ring to-day are in a minority, but their number is slowly increasing, and there seems to be something in the nature of a humanitarian crusade against the sport. One or two publicists are certainly opposed to the pastime.

Nevertheless, tauromachy will die very slowly in Spain. Bull-fighting holds the popular imagination as by a powerful spell, and it is a deep-rooted institution of the country, revered by high and low. Only at the Plaza de Toros does the Spaniard lose his restraint and gravity, and shout and cheer until he is hoarse. The poorest mendicant in Madrid will go without food for a day, to get a seat at the fight. And what can diminish the admiration of the populace for the torero? Is he not the idol of the aristocracy, the hero of the people? He earns more than a Minister of State, and infinitely more than a great writer. When he kills a bull with a clever thrust, or smilingly receives the furious onslaught of the beast upon his dangling capa, the Plaza de Toros shakes with the vociferations of the multitude. Flattered by hidalgos, courted by handsome doñas, applauded by the crowd—the popular espada is the greatest{142} man in Spain. Crowds assemble around his hotel, to acclaim him as he comes forth clad for the fray, in his glitter of tinsel, and glory of silk, plush and diamonds.

From six to eight bulls are baited and killed at each entertainment. Gautier says that, when he attended a bull-fight in Madrid, eight bulls and fourteen horses were done to death, and a chulo slightly wounded. On feast days, in the eighteenth century, as many as six bulls were killed in the morning and twelve in the afternoon.

The training place or “university” of bull-fighters is at Seville, and the most daring of the schools of toreros are of the South of Spain. Madrid is the scene of the espada’s triumph, or of his defeat, for though the spectators at the corrida are ever ready to lavish applause upon the clever performer with the lance or sword, they are cruelly critical, and show little mercy towards the timorous or bungling artist. Even the famous Bombita, the Madrid favourite, has known that ominous stillness that succeeds an ill-rendered thrust at a bull of unusual agility. The public will load Fuentes with their gold, and cheer him to the echo when he displays his coolness and dexterity, but the same public will not hesitate to hiss the best espada who ever stepped into the{143} ring, when he commits an impropriety or misses the opportunity of an instant to deliver a thrust of the blade.

As in the old days of the tournament, fair ladies smile upon and favour the bold torero. There are instances of the exactions of these high-born patronesses of the sport, which have resulted in death for the espada who courted their approbation. It is recorded that a royal lady was so fascinated by an exceptionally agile feat performed by a torero that she wished to see it repeated. The desire was conveyed to the performer. “It is more than my life is worth,” he said. “It is the wish of the lady,” returned the messenger. Bowing low, the torero said: “I dedicate my life to Her Royal Highness.” Again the bull charged; but this time the unlucky athlete was caught on the horns of the beast, whence he was removed—a corpse.

It is the custom in England to speak of the espada and of bull-fighters collectively as “matadors.” The word is altogether inappropriate to the sport. We hear of young gentlemen attending fancy dress balls in London, attired as “a Spanish matador,” or as a “toreador.” A bull-fighter in Spain is a torero in the general sense, though the word really means{144} one who engages the bull on foot. The performer with the sword, the most important functionary in the ring, is known as the espada; and the man who charges the animal on horseback, with a spear or lance as a weapon, is called a picador. Throwers of the darts are termed banderilleros; wavers of the gaudy cloaks, and the assistants of the espadas, are called chulos. These are the grades of toreros in their order of precedence.{145}

IX

THE ART OF THE BULL-FIGHTER
The Plaza de Toros, or bull ring, of Madrid, is a great structure designed by Capra and Rodriguez Ayuso in 1874. It is in the Moorish style of architecture, with a fine façade and an imposing entrance arch. According to one Spanish writer, the total number of seats is 12,605, but other writers give 15,000 and 14,000 as the number. Philip V. built the first bull-fighting arena in Madrid, in 1747, although he was by no means an enthusiast of the sport. The cost of the present building was 3,000,000 reales.

The seats are divided into boxes and open galleries, the boxes, or palcos de sombra—seats in the shade—being in the best position for watching the contests during the hot months. In early spring a seat in the sun is to be preferred, for the air of Madrid is keen at this season.

The sight of the Plaza de Toros on the day of a great corrida leaves an impression that will not quickly fade from the memory. In the palcos are the rank, beauty, and wealth of Madrid,{146} while packed in the humbler seats is a vast mass of the people. The ladies wear mantillas, and carry fans, which flutter the whole time; and animation, devoid of any trace of rough behaviour, characterises the immense crowd. A tense hush falls on the throng when the first bull of the day bounds in from the dark toril, and confronts his gaily-attired persecutors in the big arena. During the fight the spectators grow excited almost to the verge of frenzy. There is a roar of voices, and the sound of canes struck upon the benches, an indescribable din, which reaches its height when a popular espada delivers a dexterous thrust of the blade into the neck of the baffled and infuriated toro. While the combat proceeds, there are alternating comments of “Bravo toro,” as the bull shows courage, and groans and hisses when the animal displays cowardice or apathy. Both the bull and the men must act their parts with zeal, energy and bravery, or the crowd is disappointed, and wont to express disapprobation in an unqualified manner.

On the day of a corrida Madrid is roused into a mood of joyous expectancy. The town is en fête; the streets are thronged, and every kind of vehicle is seen in the procession to the Plaza de Toros. For an hour the carriages{147} stream in, and the crowd on foot files along to the tiers of seats. Overhead is the vivid sky and a burning sun, which brightens all that it shines upon. Thousands of fans are waving; thousands of dark eyes gleam from the palcos. Presently the music begins, from the large orchestra a stirring air thrills the arena, and almost drowns the voices of the crowd. One is reminded of a scene in the amphitheatre in the days of the grandeur of Rome, when gladiatorial contests attracted a vast concourse of all classes of the population, for the same love of daring and agility still sways the passion of the people, and the same indifference is evinced when blood flows.

The tournament opens with an imposing procession of the bull-fighters, arrayed in all the glory of their gala costumes, in which there is a plentiful glitter of tinsel, and spangles, and gold braid. Two alguaciles, or mounted men in a bygone garb of the police, ride in front of the troop of toreros. The two espadas, who are taking the leading part in the corrida to-day, come next, and they are followed by the picadores, or spearmen, who are well protected with pads and leg-guards. Next come the banderilleros or dart-throwers, a nimble company, in bright silk and velvet, and the rear of the pro{148}cession is made up of muleteros, with the gaily trapped mules that are used to drag the corpses of the bulls from the ring.

A bugle note rings out like a challenge, and the key of the toril, or bulls’ den, is thrown by the President into the arena. The ring is now cleared of all the combatants except a trio of picadores, who, sitting astride their wretched nags, await the entry of the bull. Amid the hush, toro rushes into the arena, a huge black beast, with elongated horns, a thick, brawny neck, a sleek, shining coat, and a pair of flashing, angry eyes. He paws the ground, and snorts, and catching sight of the gaudy colours of the picadores, lowers his head, and charges them. His assault is received on the blunt point of the garrocha, or spear; and, incensed by the pain, he pauses, lashing his tail, and deliberating a second attack. Perchance the bull is not especially fierce or courageous. He has led a placid life on the plains, and has followed the herd-boy as sheep follow a shepherd. But to-day he must fight and die, and if he is indifferent at the sight of his assailants, means must be employed to anger him.

But a valiant bull needs no such incitement to fury. He is angry with every one, indignant at the whole proceedings, and he charges the{149} picadores with terrific vehemence. Sometimes a rider is unhorsed, and, handicapped by his pads and protectors, he is in peril till the attendants divert the attention of toro.

The hapless horses are the worse sufferers, for they cannot escape from the ring. They serve as butts for the bull’s horns; they are frequently ripped open, and sometimes lifted off their feet by the horns of their maddened enemy. To English eyes it is a heartrending spectacle to see a sorry old horse, which has patiently served man all his life, urged up to the sharp horns of the bull, and made to receive his cruel charges. The wounded horses lie quivering and expiring in the ring; a look of supplication and suffering in their eyes fills the unaccustomed spectator with compassion, and the sight of their terrible injuries sickens the sensitive.

The banderilleros now appear, armed with steel barbed darts, adorned with coloured papers, and with coolness and dexterity, they approach toro, and throw their stinging missiles at his neck and shoulders. The bull winces, shakes his head, and turns upon his tormentors. He chases one of them across the ring; the pursued banderillero vaults over the high wooden barrier, and the horns of the bull resound against the wood with{150} a dull crash. Another dart-thrower runs up, and deftly plants his weapons in the bull’s flesh. Again toro turns, and as he runs with lowered horns, a third banderillero stands in his course, leaps aside at the crucial instant, and delivers his darts.

An expert banderillero will sit on a chair and await the rush of toro. The agility and daring of these performers is very extraordinary. If the bull is apathetic, drastic means are used to stir his anger. The banderillas de fuego, or fire darts, are used to arouse his fury. These instruments of irritation are provided with explosives, which startle and infuriate the bull with their noise and their sting. Now and then, a nimble and frenzied bull, when pursuing a banderillero, will even leap over the high barrier of the arena, causing tremendous consternation among the spectators. Sometimes a plucky bull-fighter grows bolder, and dares the bull by every imaginable device until, in a fatal moment, he receives a thrust of the horn, and falls bleeding to the ground.

Before entering the perilous arena, the toreros receive the sacrament from the priest who is always in attendance at bull-fights. During the corrida the padre remains in waiting in the chapel{151} of the Plaza de Toros, ready to minister, if need be, to a fighter borne dying from the scene.

The last great act in the drama is the suerte de matar. It is then that the espada steps into the ring, carrying his red cloth over one arm, while the other arm is engaged with the sword. Bowing to the President, the espada turns around and faces the bull, who is now somewhat fatigued from his exercise in chasing the banderilleros and butting at the horses of the picadores. The bull, whose neck bristles with the darts, stands slowly moving his tail, and staring at his new aggressor in sullen anger. Waving the muleta, or red cloth, the espada advances to toro, and impudently flutters the cloth in his face. The bull charges; the muleta receives his horns, and is tossed in the air, while the espada skips aside. Again and again the bull attempts to impale the man, but only succeeds in striking the muleta. Baffled and exasperated, toro pauses as though in sober reflection. How can he outwit that smiling, calm assailant who fixes him with an insolent stare? The bull walks round and round the motionless espada, trying, as it were, to find a weak point for a charge, but the swordsman follows every movement with a shrewd{152} and practised eye, and even divines what ruse the bull intends to adopt.

It is a wonderful display of coolness and courage. There are moments in the fight between the bull and the espada when a deep hush spreads among the spectators; and, then, as the man swerves aside from the on-rush of the beast, a deafening roar goes up from the crowd. The last act is protracted at the discretion of the espada, who is always delighted to exhibit his cleverness and nimbleness to his thousands of admirers in the palcos and galleries. A master of the art of the espada has an extensive répertoire of tricks and passes of the sword, which he loves to display, and he will risk his life a dozen times in the afternoon in exhibiting his skill and prowess. Often the bull is stupid. He must be made to prove his mettle. But usually toro is already mad with anger when called upon to fight the last duel with the espada. It is curious to note how the muleta enrages the bull, who seems to hate it more than the banderillas or the pike of the picador.

At length the espada determines that toro shall die. There is only one legitimate way to kill him. The thrust must be delivered in the neck, and the point of the sword should reach{153} the heart. Before this death-stroke there is a stillness and tense feeling in the Plaza. Will the espada blunder, or will the blade go home at the first thrust. A rapt excitement is on the faces of the crowd. And now the bull makes his last headlong rush; there is a flash of steel in the sunshine, and the sword pierces the black hide, and the blade disappears up to the hilt. Toro staggers, turns and makes a final assault on the espada, only to receive the muleta on his horns. The bull falls, and blood gushes from his wound. He lies dying amid the thunderous din of applause. An attendant appears with a narrow-bladed dagger. He stoops over the bull and plunges the weapon into the spine, near the head. With a shudder, toro dies. During the babel of voices discussing the fight, the mules are driven into the ring, traces are fixed to the horns of the dead bull, and the corpse is dragged out; and with scarcely an interval, another victim is turned into the arena.

In “Childe Harold,” Lord Byron records his impressions of a bull-fight:

“Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls,
The den expands, and Expectation mute
Gapes round the silent circle’s peopled walls.
Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute,{154}
And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot,
The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe;
Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit
His first attack, wide waving to and fro
His angry tail; red rolls his eye’s dilated glow.
Foil’d, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last,
Full in the centre stands the bull at bay—
’Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast,
And foes disabled in the brutal fray:
Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand;
Once more through all he bursts his thundering way—
Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand,
Wraps his fierce eye—’tis past—he sinks upon the sand!”
Every literary man who has visited Madrid, from the Chevalier de Bourgoanne to Mr Arthur Symons, has given us his impressions of the sport of bull-fighting. De Bourgoanne, in his “Travels in Spain” (1789), writes of the severity with which the spectators at the Madrid bull-fights criticised any deficiencies on the part of the toreros. Speaking of the final act of the corrida, the Chevalier states that, “if the animal immediately falls, the triumph of the conqueror is celebrated by a thousand acclamations; but if the blow be not decisive, if the bull survives and again strives to brave the fatal knife, the murmurs are not less numerous. The espada, whose address was about to be extolled to the skies,{155} is considered only as a clumsy butcher. He instantly endeavours to recover from his disgrace, and disarm the severity of his judges.”

De Bourgoanne found the Madrileños divided in their admiration for the two celebrated espadas of that day. One coterie swore by Costillares; another avowed that Romero was the better exponent of the art of tauromachy. This extravagant enthusiasm of the Madrid populace, aroused by the bull-fight, greatly bewildered the French traveller; but he admits that, in spite of the indifference evinced by the spectators at the corrida, the Spaniard is not lacking in compassion nor “devoid of every amiable and delicate emotion.” He relates that the government was alive to “the moral and political inconvenience of that kind of frenzy,” and the economists declared that the destruction of so many robust bulls was prejudicial to agriculture. “The reigning monarch,” writes the Chevalier, “who endeavours to polish the manners of his nation and to turn its attention towards more useful objects, wishes to destroy in it an inclination in which he perceives nothing but inconvenience; but he is too wise to employ violent means.”

An American traveller, writing anonymously in{156} 1831, says that a bull-fight always drew several thousand people to the Plaza. In the winter, states this observer, the corridas took the form of combats with young bulls, whose horns were covered with pads or balls. These bulls were called novillos embolados, and they were baited by novices and amateurs. This writer describes the tragic encounter of a notable torero, known as El Sombrerero, who was so called because he had been a hatter. El Sombrerero was the foremost espada in Spain in his time, and he was wont to perform the most valiant feats in the ring. He was once fighting an exceptionally savage bull, which swerved suddenly in a charge, and caught his opponent upon the point of his horns. The espada was lifted off, and carried from the ring in a state of insensibility. He recovered of his injuries, and resolved to abandon bull-fighting and to return to his trade of hat-making. But the small earnings of this occupation did not satisfy him, and El Sombrerero went back to the ranks of the bull-fighters. He had, however, lost his nerve, and in a fight at Granada he was hissed for his timidity in engaging a very fierce bull.

Manuel Romero was one of the most popular of toreros in 1830. He was a short, rather stout man, though well built and extremely nimble. His{157} features had “an air of cold-blooded ferocity as became one whose business it was to incur danger and to deal death.” Romero wore a very resplendent dress in the ring, with much lace and jewellery.

Théophile Gautier describes a corrida with the zest of one who found a genuine delight in the spectacle. It is somewhat curious that men of refined instincts can look on unconcernedly at the sufferings of horses and bulls; but human nature presents such singular anomalies in abundance. Gautier relates how Sevilla, a famous picador, had his horse lifted off its legs, and tossed in the air by the bull, while the rider maintained his coolness and retained his seat in the saddle. Antonio Rodriguez was a celebrated picador of this day (1840), and Gautier pays a tribute to his valour and extraordinary agility. The favourite espadas of this date were Juan Pastor and Joaquin Rodriguez.

Is the courage of the Spanish torero declining? There are one-time aficionados of bull-fighting who declare that the art is not so exciting, scientific, and well studied as in bygone days, and yet there is scarcely any decline in the absorbing interest devoted to the corridas in all parts of the Peninsula. Prosper Mérimée, in his “Lettres à une Inconnue,{158}” written in 1859, supports the view that bull-fighting has deteriorated. He writes: “I was present at a bull-fight on Monday, and it amused me a very little indeed. I was unlucky enough to know all too early in life what a degree of excellence this sport can attain to, and after having seen Montes, I really cannot look at his degenerate successors with any degree of pleasure. The animals have degenerated, too, as well as the men.”

No doubt there are many able exponents of bull-fighting still left in Spain, and there are writers in abundance who could probably prove that the sport is as stirring as ever. We, who have not seen Montes and Romero, and other dead heroes of the Plaza de Toros, are scarcely in a position to decide whether the bull-fighter’s art has degenerated. If the daring of the espada of to-day is called into question, it must be said that while there are men who will stand motionless as statues, and allow a furious bull to sniff at them, and others who will stand still to the rush of a bull, and receive the beast on the point of the sword, there are still fighters prepared to risk their lives in exhibitions of intrepidity. There remain some toreros who perform the perilous feat of vaulting over the bull with a pole, and many who expose themselves to a deadly thrust of the horns while{159} planting the darts in the animal’s neck. The coolness of several of the leading professors of bull-fighting is unquestioned, and it cannot be denied that the patrons of the ring are not still exacting in their desire for hair-raising performances.

It is perhaps correct to state that there is a little more sympathy for the horses than in the old days of the lidia. Many Spanish people express disgust at the sight of the mangled carcasses of the miserable, worn-out horses, which are forced to end their hard lives in this cruel manner. But your true aficionado has no scruples of pity, and he will assert that a bull does not fight at his best until he has seen blood flow.

Perhaps the greatest of all bull-fighters was Frascuelo. The Spaniards declare that no torero has taken his place. Guerra, his rival, was a fine fighter, but he has retired, and lives on his laurels at Cordova. Frascuelo was the leader of what may be called the dare-devil school of bull-fighters. He was always at close quarters with the bull, and he strove to out-do the most daring espadas of his day. Bombita, or Bombita-Chico, is a young torero of great courage and especially popular in Madrid, where he was born.

Mazzantini is now only seen occasionally in the{160} Plaza de Toros. He is a big stalwart man, but past his prime, though he is still esteemed by his admirers as the best fighter in Spain. Conejito, who was wounded in Barcelona in 1903, is another favourite of the public. But the first exponent of bull-fighting is, in the opinion of the majority, the handsome and plucky Fuentes. This torero is not only a proficient espada; he plays all the parts in the ring except that of picador. Fuentes exercises a weird power over his bulls. He fixes the bull with his keen eyes as he approaches him, and steps backward, slowly followed by the enraged and fascinated toro, in whose neck he deliberately sticks a dart. The spell of this man’s eyes has a subtle influence which seems to utterly bewilder a bull. Again and again the bull advances to the attack, only to turn aside from the glare of the espada’s eyes.

The favourite device of Bombita is to kneel on the ground, shaking the muleta in the bull’s face. In such a position it is, of course, almost impossible for the espada to skip aside when the bull charges, and the art of the trick lies in receiving the horns upon the red cloth. Guerra, sometimes called Guerrita, used to allow the bull to pass so close to him that his side was often scratched by the point of the horn.{161}

Every stratagem and feat of the espada in the final suerte of the ring has its technical name, such as pase de pecho, pase natural, and paso por alto, and all these tricks are closely watched and criticised by the vast concourse of spectators. Fuentes has written learnedly upon the theory and practice of his art, describing the various pases minutely. Those who are interested in the literature of the bull-ring will find a complete account of the life of the bull from the placid days of youth upon the plains, down to the last tragic scene in the Plaza, in Los Toros, an illustrated pamphlet by E. Contreras y R. de Palacio. Fuller and more advanced “tauromachian” literature may be purchased in Madrid. Among the works of note are Bedoya’s Historia del Toreo, Annales del Toréo, by Velazquez, and En la Plaza, by Pascual Millan. There are several magazines and journals much read by the devotees of the sport, such as La Lidia and El Toréo. Bull-fighting is a subject of perennial interest in Madrid, and the literatura taurina, issued in the city, would fill many book-shelves.

Pascual Millan describes the bull-fight as “a grand spectacle in which art, bravery, nobility, light, sun, colour, animation, and beauty” all play a part. This writer asserts that the theories{162} of bull-fighting can rarely be carried into practice, as there is nothing stable or fixed in the art. Pepe-Illo, a famous espada, wrote a treatise on the conduct of the fighter in the arena, which was highly interesting; but, had his views been put into practice, they would “have excluded every bull-fighter from the arena.” Señor Millan thinks that rules are impossible; that everything done in the ring is the outcome of inspiration on the spur of the moment. Lagartijo sums up the matter thus: “Bull-fighting is very simple: you place yourself in front of the bull, the bull comes and you move away; you do not move away, then the bull moves you away. And there you are.”

The directions as to moving aside when the bull charges are plain enough, and the counsel is obvious. But in the method of avoiding the horns of the bull lies the art of the espada, and in this movement he reveals his genius, and displays adroitness, grace, and daring. No proficient performer ever allows toro to chase him about the ring. He bounds aside as the bull bears down upon him, and receives the furious attack of the beast upon the fluttering muleta. Sometimes the red cloth is waved aloft, high over the bull’s horns, causing the animal to rear{163} upon his hind legs in a savage effort to wreak his rage on the offending muleta. An expert torero knows perfectly well that the bull directs his fury at the fluttering cloth or cloak rather than at the man who manipulates it.

The boldest of bull-fighters, Espartero, stood so pluckily in the path of a charging bull that he was more than once thrown several yards by a violent butt from the beast’s horns. This fighter used to employ his fists upon the bull’s head, and his method was always to fight at the closest quarters. It was said that Espartero suffered more fear of hunger than of death by the horns of a bull; and in his desire for fame and wealth, he continually courted tragedy in the ring and behaved with reckless daring. Espartero was killed in 1894 during a fight with the first bull of the day.

Guerra retired in 1899, and his leave-taking was a source of much regret among the aficionados of bull-fighting, who declared that he was the last of the great toreros. Pascual Millan, the chronicler of modern bull-fighting, asserts that the successors of Guerra cannot be compared with him for refinement and grace in their displays. He gives prominence to Antonio Fuentes, “the only one who came into the ring with some{164} foundation, bringing a certain personal note which raised him a few inches above the common level.” Among the living exponents of the art of the espada may be mentioned Torerito, Torres, Reverte, Ronal, Algabeño, and above all, “Bombita.”

The corrida may seem to assume an undue importance in the life of Spain. It is, however, to be regarded as a reflection of the Spanish character, and bull-fighting in Madrid cannot be dismissed as a mere recreation of the mob. Bull-fighting is taken seriously among a serious-minded people, who regard it as one of the great institutions of the country. It is a survival of the warlike temper, a manifestation of the love of courage and the admiration for endurance, and it remains as the last vestige of the traditions of the age of chivalry in Spain.

This intense enthusiasm, this profound interest in the killing of bulls is bewildering to the foreigner, who cannot accept the sport in such a serious spirit. It is almost as grave a matter as a canon of the Church whether an espada wields the sword in accordance with the tradition of the ring. The writers upon bull-fighting are divided into schools of critics and eulogists, who dissect every pase minutely, or extol the “æsthetics” of a finished{165} artist with the darts or the sword. There are volumes of serious literature upon the lidia, which amaze the stranger who peruses them. We have nothing like it in the sporting literature of England. Our books upon hunting or racing are not written with all the earnestness and fervour of treatises on matters of faith; but the taurine monographs of Spain are composed in the temper of piety, and the rules of the ring are set down as though they were the articles of a creed. When a famous jockey appears in the street, he is not mobbed by a crowd of admirers; but the espada in Spain is acclaimed everywhere as a great hero and the darling of the people.

Bull-fighting is a deep-rooted passion of the people of Spain, and it has to be reckoned with in any examination of the Spanish character. Its ethics and its sociological significance cannot be discussed here. We must accept the corrida, whether we approve of it or not, as one of the chief institutions of the capital of Spain. Madrid is the Mecca of the bull-fighter.{166}

X

CAFÉ LIFE OF THE MADRILEÑOS
In every part of Spain the café is a popular resort and the rendezvous of friends. Here all classes foregather to discuss the news, to criticise the new bull-fighter, to extol a favourite dancer, to transact business, to play at dominoes or draughts, to read the journals, to sip coffee, and to smoke cigarettes. Many hours of each day are dedicated by the Madrileño to the café. He goes there as a matter of routine for his morning refresco, and again in the evening for his coffee with a dash of spirit.

The cafés are comfortable, and they provide for different classes of customers. They are never decorated in a resplendent manner; but, as Gautier observed, “this want of splendour is amply compensated by the excellence and variety of the refreshments.” Gautier mentions the Café de Levante among others, and this is still a favourite resort of men-about-town. In the Calle de Alcalá are three representative coffee-houses, the Café de Madrid, the Café Suizo, and the Café de Fornos. The Café Inglés is in the{167} Calle de Sevilla. The houses of refreshment in the Puerta del Sol are the resort of all types of Madrid character, from the diplomat to the professional swindler. From nine o’clock in the evening until two in the morning these cafés are thronged. The customary beverage is café con leche (coffee with milk) or black coffee, with a drop of cognac. Light wines and spirits are also provided, but these are used sparingly by the majority of the Madrileños, for, whatever may be the faults of the Spaniard, immoderation in the use of alcohol is certainly not one of them.

To attract the attention of the waiters at the cafés, you clap your hands, or make a hissing sound between your closed teeth. The coffee is usually excellent, and the spirit is brought to you in a bottle marked with measures. The crowds in the Madrid cafés lack the picturesqueness of those in some of the smaller towns of Castile, Murcia, and Andalusia, where the dress of the provinces is still worn. You will see no majas in the capital; the grisettes of Madrid cannot be distinguished from the rest of the female population. The capa is, however, still worn by men of almost all ranks, and these, and the broad-brimmed hats, give a touch of the romantic to the throngs in the coffee-houses of the Puerta del Sol.{168}

There are wine-shops and taverns in Madrid, but the seats are not luxurious, and there is no display of carved mahogany and engraved glass, and no separation of the classes. The “accommodation” may be somewhat rude; still the wine is good and cheap, and the tone and atmosphere of the posada are more wholesome than those of the London public-house. A glass of the wine of the country can be bought for a penny in these taverns, and the finest wines cost only a few pence the glass. Immense wine-barrels flank the walls, and there is an array of spirit and fruit syrup bottles behind the counter.

The chief hotels of Madrid are the Hotel de la Paz, Hotel del Universo, the Roma, and the Hotel de Paris. They are centrally situated, and fairly well appointed. The meals are almuerzo and comida, corresponding to luncheon and dinner. There is no meal in Spain resembling the hearty English breakfast. The Spaniard takes a cup of chocolate and a dry roll upon rising, and goes about his business or his pleasure until eleven or twelve o’clock, when almuerzo, the first real meal of the day, is served.

Some of the Spanish dishes are only palatable to English people after a taste for them has been sedulously cultivated. Many of the viands{169} are flavoured with garlic. The menu for comida consists of soup, fish, an egg dish, meat, sometimes a puchero or stew, and cakes and fruit. Table wine is usually provided free of charge. Every man smokes in the dining-room, both during and after meals.

Among the best restaurants are the Fornos, the Italiano and the Inglés.{171}{170}

PRINTED BY
TURNBULL AND SPEARS
EDINBURGH

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{173}

PLATE 1

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PLATE 1.

MADRID

Specially drawn for The Spanish Series

{174}

PLATE 2

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PLATE 2.

ARMS OF MADRID

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PLATE 3

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PLATE 3.

General View of Madrid.

{176}

PLATE 4

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PLATE 4.

View of Madrid from the Teja.

{177}

PLATE 5

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PLATE 5.

General View of Madrid.

{178}

PLATE 6

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PLATE 6.

View of Madrid from San Isidro.

{179}

PLATE 7

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PLATE 7.

The Fountain of Cybele and Calle de Alcalá.

{180}

PLATE 8

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PLATE 8.

The Northern Railway Station and Royal Palace.

{181}

PLATE 9

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PLATE 9.

Puerta del Sol.

{182}

PLATE 10

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PLATE 10.

Puerta del Sol.

{183}

PLATE 11

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PLATE 11.

Calle de Alcalá.

{184}

PLATE 12

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PLATE 12.

Calle de Alcalá.

{185}

PLATE 13

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PLATE 13.

Calle de Alcalá.

{186}

PLATE 14

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PLATE 14.

Calle de Alcalá.

{187}

PLATE 15

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PLATE 15.

Carrera de San Jerónimo.

{188}

PLATE 16

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PLATE 16.

Calle de Alcalá.

{189}

PLATE 17

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PLATE 17.

Calle de Sevilla.

{190}

PLATE 18

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PLATE 18.

Calle de Alcalá.

{191}

PLATE 19

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PLATE 19.

Plaza de Castelar.

{192}

PLATE 20

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PLATE 20.

Calle de Toledo.

{193}

PLATE 21

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PLATE 21.

In Old Madrid.

{194}

PLATE 22

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PLATE 22.

Paseo de Recoletos.

{195}

PLATE 23

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PLATE 23.

Paseo de Recoletos.

{196}

PLATE 24

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PLATE 24.

Paseo de Recoletos.

{197}

PLATE 25

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PLATE 25.

Paseo de Recoletos.

{198}

PLATE 26

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PLATE 26.

Calle de Alcalá and Statue of Aguirre.

{199}

PLATE 27

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PLATE 27.

Paseo de la Castellana.

{200}

PLATE 28

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PLATE 28.

Plaza de Isabel II.

{201}

PLATE 29

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PLATE 29.

Plaza de Oriente.

{202}

PLATE 30

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PLATE 30.

Plaza Mayor.

{203}

PLATE 31

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PLATE 31.

Plaza Mayor.

{204}

PLATE 32

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PLATE 32.

Plaza Mayor and Statue of Philip III.

{205}

PLATE 33

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PLATE 33.

Calle de Serrano.

{206}

PLATE 34

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PLATE 34.

Calle de la Princesa on Good Friday.

{207}

PLATE 35

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PLATE 35.

Entrance to the Park of Alfonso XIII.

{208}

PLATE 36

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PLATE 36.

Casa de Campo. The Lake.

{209}

PLATE 37

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PLATE 37.

Toledo Bridge.

{210}

PLATE 38

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PLATE 38.

Toledo Bridge.

{211}

PLATE 39

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PLATE 39.

Toledo Bridge.

{212}

PLATE 40

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PLATE 40.

Segovia Bridge.

{213}

PLATE 41

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PLATE 41.

Entrance to the Retiro.

{214}

PLATE 42

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PLATE 42.

Entrance to the Retiro.

{215}

PLATE 43

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PLATE 43.

Principal Entrance to the Retiro.

{216}

PLATE 44

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PLATE 44.

Retiro. The Parterre.

{217}

PLATE 45

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PLATE 45.

Retiro. The Lake.

{218}

PLATE 46

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PLATE 46.

Retiro. The Crystal Palace.

{219}

PLATE 47

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PLATE 47.

Retiro. Arab Pavilion.

{220}

PLATE 48

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PLATE 48.

Retiro. Arab Temple.

{221}

PLATE 49

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PLATE 49.

Gate of Alcalá.

{222}

PLATE 50

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PLATE 50.

Gate of Hierro.

{223}

PLATE 51

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PLATE 51.

Gate of Toledo.

{224}

PLATE 52

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PLATE 52.

Chamber of Deputies.

{225}

PLATE 53

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PLATE 53.

The Cortes. Two Bronze Lions in front of the Palace.

{226}

PLATE 54

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PLATE 54.

Interior of the Chamber of Deputies.

{227}

PLATE 55

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PLATE 55.

Interior of the Chamber of Deputies.

{228}

PLATE 56

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PLATE 56.

Reception Room at the Chamber of Deputies. Decorated by Don A. Mélida.

{229}

PLATE 57

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PLATE 57.

Reception Room at the Chamber of Deputies. Decorated by Don A. Mélida.

{230}

PLATE 58

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PLATE 58.

Façade of the Hospital. Calle Fuencarral.

{231}

PLATE 59

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PLATE 59.

La Latina.

{232}

PLATE 60

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PLATE 60.

Portal of the Hospital of the Conception or “La Latina” in the Calle de Toledo.

{233}

PLATE 61

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PLATE 61.

Staircase of la Latina.

{234}

PLATE 62

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PLATE 62.

Portal and Staircase of the Hospital de la Latina.

{235}

PLATE 63

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PLATE 63.

Arabian Palace of the Prado.

{236}

PLATE 64

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PLATE 64.

Arabian Palace of the Prado.

{237}

PLATE 65

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PLATE 65.

Lujanes Tower.

{238}

PLATE 66

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PLATE 66.

The Aguirre School.

{239}

PLATE 67

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PLATE 67.

The Spanish Theatre.

{240}

PLATE 68

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PLATE 68.

The Royal Theatre.

{241}

PLATE 69

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PLATE 69.

The Treasury Office in the Calle de Alcalá.

{242}

PLATE 70

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PLATE 70.

Palace of the Marqués de Portugalete.

{243}

PLATE 71

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PLATE 71.

Palace of the Marqués de Linares.

{244}

PLATE 72

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PLATE 72.

The Bank of Spain.

{245}

PLATE 73

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PLATE 73.

The War Office.

{246}

PLATE 74

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PLATE 74.

Southern Façade of the Museum and the Statue of Murillo.

{247}

PLATE 75

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PLATE 75.

The Prado Gallery. North Façade.

{248}

PLATE 76

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PLATE 76.

The Prado Gallery.

{249}

PLATE 77

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PLATE 77.

The New Exchange.

{250}

PLATE 78

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PLATE 78.

The Town Hall.

{251}

PLATE 79

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PLATE 79.

The Northern Railway Station.

{252}

PLATE 80

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PLATE 80.

Círculo de Contribuyentes.

{253}

PLATE 81

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PLATE 81.

The Senate House.

{254}

PLATE 82

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PLATE 82.

Hispano-American Bank.

{255}

PLATE 83

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PLATE 83.

The Spanish Academy.

{256}

PLATE 84

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PLATE 84.

The Atocha Station.

{257}

PLATE 85

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PLATE 85.

National Library.

{258}

PLATE 86

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PLATE 86.

The National Library and Museum.

{259}

PLATE 87

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PLATE 87.

National Library. Detail of the Façade.

{260}

PLATE 88

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PLATE 88.

National Library and Museum. East Façade.

{261}

PLATE 89

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PLATE 89.

National Library. Sphinx.

{262}

PLATE 90

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PLATE 90.

The Equitable Buildings in the Calle de Alcalá.

{263}

PLATE 91

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PLATE 91.

Statue of María Cristina and Museum of Reproductions.

{264}

PLATE 92

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PLATE 92.

Interior of the New Exchange.

{265}

PLATE 93

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PLATE 93.

The Home Office.

{266}

PLATE 94

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PLATE 94.

Astronomical Observatory.

{267}

PLATE 95

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PLATE 95.

The Exchange.

{268}

PLATE 96

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PLATE 96.

The War Office.

{269}

PLATE 97

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PLATE 97.

The Town Hall.

{270}

PLATE 98

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PLATE 98.

Ministerio de Fomento.

{271}

PLATE 99

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PLATE 99.

Hermitage of San Isidro.

{272}

PLATE 100

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PLATE 100.

Refuge of Our Lady of Mercy.

{273}

PLATE 101

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PLATE 101.

Church of San Francisco el Grande.

{274}

PLATE 102

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PLATE 102.

San Francisco el Grande.

General View from the Choir.

{275}

PLATE 103

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PLATE 103.

San Francisco el Grande. The Concession of the Jubilee of the Porciúncula.

{276}

PLATE 104

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PLATE 104.

San Francisco el Grande. Left Side of the Cupola.

{277}

PLATE 105

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PLATE 105.

Crypt in the Almudena Cathedral.

{278}

PLATE 106

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PLATE 106.

The Cathedral. Partial View of the Crypt.

{279}

PLATE 107

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PLATE 107.

Church of Las Calatravas.

{280}

PLATE 108

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PLATE 108.

Las Calatravas.

{281}

PLATE 109

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PLATE 109.

Church of El Buen Suceso.

{282}

PLATE 110

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PLATE 110.

General View of the Church El Buen Suceso.

{283}

PLATE 111

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PLATE 111.

Church of San José.

{284}

PLATE 112

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PLATE 112.

Church of San Isidro el Real.

{285}

PLATE 113

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PLATE 113.

Interior of the Church of San Isidro.

{286}

PLATE 114

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PLATE 114.

Church of La Virgen del Puerto.

{287}

PLATE 115

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PLATE 115.

Church of Las Salesas. The Suffering Christ.

{288}

PLATE 116

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PLATE 116.

Church of San Cayetano.

{289}

PLATE 117

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PLATE 117.

Altar Piece in the Bishop’s Chapel.

{290}

PLATE 118

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PLATE 118.

Door in the Bishop’s Chapel.

{291}

PLATE 119

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PLATE 119.

The Bishop’s Chapel. Left Side of the Door.

{292}

PLATE 120

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PLATE 120.

The Bishop’s Chapel. Right Side of the Door.

{293}

PLATE 121

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 121.

The Bishop’s Chapel. Upper Part of the Door.

{294}

PLATE 122

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 122.

The Bishop’s Chapel. Sepulchre of the Bishop of Plasencia.

{295}

PLATE 123

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 123.

The Bishop’s Chapel. Sepulchre of Don Francesco de Vargas.

{296}

PLATE 124

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PLATE 124.

The Bishop’s Chapel. Sepulchre of Doña Ines de Carvajal.

{297}

PLATE 125

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PLATE 125.

Parish Church of St Andrew. Sepulchre of San Isidro Ploughman, Patron Saint of Madrid.

{298}

PLATE 126

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PLATE 126.

Interior of the Church of San Jerónimo.

FROM A PICTURE IN THE PRADO OF THE PRINCE OF THE ASTURIAS (FERDINAND VII.) TAKING THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE IN 1789.

{299}

PLATE 127

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PLATE 127.

View of the Interior of the Church of San Jerónimo.

{300}

PLATE 128

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PLATE 128.

San Antonio de la Florida.

{301}

PLATE 129

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 129.

Church of San Antonio de la Florida.

{302}

PLATE 130

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 130.

Interior of the Church of San Antonio de la Florida.

{303}

PLATE 131

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 131.

Fresco in San Antonio de la Florida, by Goya.

{304}

PLATE 132

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 132.

Fresco in San Antonio de la Florida, by Goya.

{305}

PLATE 133

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 133.

Fresco in San Antonio de la Florida, by Goya.

{306}

PLATE 134

[Image unavailable.]
PLATE 134.

Fresco in San Antonio de la Florida, by Goya.

{307}

PLATE 135

[Image unavailable.]
Plate 135.

Group of Angels in San Antonio de la Florida, by Goya.

{308}

PLATE 136

[Image unavailable.]