But It Would Be Doing A Wrong To One Of The Greatest
Achievements Of The Human Will, If One Dwelt Too Much, Or Too Wholly,
Upon This Gloomy Ideal.
The Escorial has been many times described; I
myself forbear with difficulty the attempt to describe it, and I satisfy
my longing to set it visibly before the reader by letting an earlier
visitor of my name describe it for me.
I think he does it larger justice
than modern observers, because he escapes the cumulative obligation
which time has laid upon them to find the subjective rather than the
objective fulfilment of its founder's intention in it. At any rate, in
March, 1623, James Howell, waiting as secretary of the romantic mission
the bursting of the iridescent love-dream which had brought Charles
Stutart, Prince of Wales, from England to woo the sister of the Spanish
king in Madrid, had leisure to write one of his most delightful
"familiar letters" concerning the Escorial to a friend in London.
"I was yesterday at the Escorial to see the monastery of St. Lawrence,
the eighth wonder of the world; and truly considering the site of the
place, the state of the thing, the symmetry of the structure, with
diverse other rareties, it may be called so; for what I have seen in
Italy and other places are but baubles to it. It is built among a
company of craggy hills, which makes the air the hungrier and
wholesomer; it is all built of freestone and marble, and that with such
solidity and moderate height that surely Philip the Second's chief
design was to make a sacrifice of it to eternity, and to contest with
the meteors and time itself. It cost eight millions; it was twenty-four
years abuilding, and the founder himself saw it furnished and enjoyed it
twelve years after, and carried his bones himself thither to be buried.
The reason that moved King Philip to waste so much treasure was a vow he
had made at the battle of St. Quentin, where he was forced to batter a
monastery of St. Lawrence friars, and if he had the victory he would
erect such a monument to St. Lawrence that the world had not the like;
therefore the form of it is like a gridiron, the handle is a huge royal
palace, and the body a vast monastery or assembly of quadrangular
cloisters, for there are as many as there be months of the year. There
be a hundred monks, and every one hath his man and his mule, and a
multitude of officers; besides there are three libraries there full of
the choicest books for all sciences. It is beyond all expression what
grots, gardens, walks, and aqueducts there are there, and what curious
fountains in the upper cloisters, for there be two stages of cloisters.
In fine, there is nothing that is vulgar there. To take a view of every
room in the house one must make account to go ten miles; there is a
vault called the Pantheon under the high altar, which is all paved,
walled, and arched with marble; there be a number of huge silver
candlesticks taller than I am; lamps three yards compass, and diverse
chalices and crosses of massive gold; there is one choir made all of
burnished brass; pictures and statues like giants; and a world of
glorious things that purely ravished me.
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