The Portland daily press., 1879-07-15
TERMS $500 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE.


| found, the coolest corner, its most sacred
spot, and it seemed to that was prisoner
buried under this mountain of granite, that
everything was whirling round me, shutting
me in, barring every door; and I thought of
the sky, country and the free air, as far
away world, with an ineffable sentiment of
sadness.
''Senor," said the guide solemnly to me
before going out, pointing to the tomb of
Charles ", ''the Emperor is there just the
same as he was when he was placed there,
with his eyes still open; he seems alive and
speaking! 1t is a miracle of God which has
| its meaning" and in saying these last words
he lowered his voice as if he feared the En-
peror would hear him; he crossed himself
and preceded me up the staircase.
| After the church and the Sacristy we went
to the museum of paintings, which contains
great number of pictures of artists of old
countries, none of the best, for all these
have been taken to the museum at Madrid,
but sufficient to merit an attentive visit of
half day. From the museum we went to
the library, passing the grand staircase,
above which rises the vast vault covered
with fresco by Luca Giordano.
| The library is composed of single large
room ornamented with grand allegorical
| paintings and contains more than $4,000
rare volumes, of which A, 900 were the gift of
Philip II.
In another room there is q very rich col
lection of manuscripts From the library
we go to the convent.
Here human imagination fails. If one of
my readers has read the Student of Salaman-
ca, he will recall this indefatigable man,
when following the mysterious lady whom
| he met one night at the foot of the altar, he
ran from street to street, from path to path,
turning and returning, reaching at last
| spot where he could no longer recognize the
houses of Salamanca, and where he found
himself in an unknown city; he continued
to turn corners, to cross plazas, to run
through the streets, and as fast as he went
it seemed to him that the city grew larger,
that the streets were longer, that the paths
intersected each other more closely; he goes
ON and on without rest; he knows not wheth-
er he is awake or dreaming, whether he is
drunk or crazy. Terror begins to penetrate
into his heart of iron; the strangest phan-
toms present themselves to his dazed, be-
wildered spirit. The same experience comes
to the stranger in the Escurial.
You go through long subterranean cor
ridor so narrow that one touches the walls
with his elbows, so low your head strikes
the ceiling, damp as cave under the sea.
/ ha ar1 faIrn in h
| er corridor. You advance, meet doors, look,
and other corridors stretch as far as the eye
can see. At the end of some one you see a
feeble light; at the obscurity of others doors
open which allow us to look into a suite of
chambers. Now and then you hear the noise
OF step; you stop-you do not hear it;then
you hear it again. You do not know wheth-
er it is over your head, at the right or left,
before you or behind you. You stop at a
door, and start back affrighted. At the end
of a long corridor down which you looked
you saw a man, immovable as a spectre,
looking at you. You go forward. You are
in narrow court surrounded by high walls,
full of moss and echoes, and lighted by
strange light which seems to descend from
i
of which we have been told in our child
hood. You go out of the court, mount
stairway, and come upon gallery from
which, looking down, you see another silent
and deserted court, then more corridors,
stairways, rows of vacant rooms, narrow
courts, and everywhere granite, moss, a pale
light and the silence of death. You reach a
l IF hor olr oItrc q
No, you are deceived; it is another. You
think you are on one side of the building;
you are on the opposite. You ask the atten-
dant where the cloister is. He answers it is
here, and you go on walking another half
hour. You think you are dreaming. AS
far as the eye can see long walls painted in
fresco, ornamented with painting, crosses,
inscriptions. You see and forget, and ask
of yourself ''Where am I?''
You see a light from another world. You
have no idea of such light. Is it the re-
Election of the granite? Is it the light of
the moon? 1t is daylght-but daylight
sadder than darkness. 1t is false, sinister,
fantastic.
Forward! from corridor to corridor, from
|
ly. You expect to hear or see suddenly in
turning an angle, file of monks with their
cowls drawn over their eyes and their arms
crossed. You think of Philip II, and seem
to hear his slow step slowly receding in the
obscure lobbies. You recall what you have
read of him, of his terrors, of the Inquisition
and everything grows bright to your eyes
suddenly; you understand all for the first
time. The Escurial-is Philip III. You see
him at every step, you hear his breathing;
he is still there, living, terrible; and with
him the image of his terrible God. Then
you would rebel, would raise your thoughts
toward the God of your heart and hopes, and
conquer the mysterious terror that the pal
ace inspires-but you do not. The Escurial
envelopes, possesses, crushes you, the chill
OF its stones penetrates into your bones, the
sadness of its sepulchral labyrinths takes pos
session of your soul. If you are with your
friend you say, 'Let us go outr' If you are
with your bien aimee you clasp her to your
heartwith trembling If you are alone, you
fy;yougo up stairs into aroom, open the win
dows, and salute with great throb of thank
fulness the mountains the sun, liberty, the
great and benefcent God who loves and par
dons.
How one can breath at this window
There we can see the gardens which occupy
anarrow space, but elegant and beautiful,
and in perfect harmony with the place. We
see there twelve charming fountains, sur
rounded each one with four squares of box
wood which represent the royal coat of arms
designed with genius so exquisite and cut
with such precision, that, looking down
from one of the windows, it seems like
carpet of plush and velvet, and stands out
in the most brilliant manner on the white
sand of the paths.
Neither trees, flowers or summer houses
in the gardens anywhere; one sees only
| fountains squares of boywood and the two