Since the erection of the splendid building dedicated to the reception of pictures, most of those which formerly adorned the palaces, have been transferred to it; and Madrid can now boast of a gallery equal in extent, and perhaps little inferior in excellence, to any of the other great galleries in Europe. To the lover of the Spanish school, the gallery of Madrid possesses attractions which no other can offer. Besides forty-two pictures of Murillo, it contains fifty-five of Velasquez, twenty-nine of EspaÑoletto, seventeen of Juanes, six of Alonzo Cano, and many of Ribalta, Cerezo, Villavicencio, Moralez, &c.; other saloons contain between four and five hundred pictures of the Italian schools, and about three hundred of the Flemish school; and in the Sala Reservada, there are several chef d’oeuvres of Titian and Rubens. At present, I return to the Spanish school, to notice first, a few of the most distinguished works of Murillo.

The first we remark is “A Holy Family,” a picture taken away by the French, and afterwards restored. The invention in this picture is in the highest degree original: we have not a mere uninteresting group; but life and feeling. The infant Jesus—Jesus, but yet a human child—holds a bird in his hand, which he raises above his head, to save the little favourite from a dog that tries to seize it: Saint Joseph holds the child between his knees; and the Virgin, who is engaged in some female employment, lays aside her work, that she may admire the playfulness of her son. This picture is admirably suited for shewing Murillo’s chaste and charming conception of female heads and children.

Passing over “An Infant Christ,” “A John Baptist,” and “The Conversion of St. Paul,” all three, but especially the second, admirable pictures, the next strikingly fine work of Murillo’s is “The Annunciation.” This is considered, and with justice, a very finished composition. The angel Gabriel announces his heavenly message while the Virgin is reading; and in her countenance, as she turns to hear the announcement of Divine will, Murillo has happily displayed the blending of human surprise, with the sudden illumination of divinity that fills her mind.

A “Mother of Griefs,” and a “Magdalen Seated in the Desert,” the latter, a picture in Murillo’s best style of colouring, might be next named; but I pass to “The Martyrdom of the Apostle St. Andrew,” which may vie with the most celebrated pictures of this master. While the Saint is extended on the cross, the heavens open and the seraphim descend, bearing the palm branch and the crown of martyrdom. The blaze of celestial light which shines upon the martyr, and its contrast with the chiaro scuro, are unrivalled in their effect. In the design and conception too, there is great beauty of thought, particularly in illuminating the martyr with the same celestial light that encircles the heavenly hierarchy.

“The Adoration of the Shepherds,” and the “Infant Jesus and St. John,” are both worthy of an eulogium; the one for its force and harmony of colouring, the other for its charming simplicity. But one more beautiful than these is “the Virgin receiving a Lesson in Reading from her mother, Saint Anne.” This possesses in a peculiar degree, Murillo’s excellences of nature and grace. It is all human, as it ought to be; and the divine calling of the Virgin is only known by two heavenly cherubs hovering above, and dropping a crown of roses upon the head of the unconscious child.

Besides these more striking pictures of Murillo, there are several others of great merit. “Eliezar and Rebecca,” two or three “Conceptions,” heads of St. Paul and of John the Baptist, the Vision of St. Bernard, and two landscapes. The landscapes of Murillo are at least curious. His proficiency in this department was probably acquired in his early years, when, at the fair of Seville, he painted whatever his customers demanded.

“A Gipsy and a Spinster,” also in the gallery, are specimens of that other class of pictures by which Murillo is known to many who have not been in Spain. These pictures being smaller, and not preserved by the jealousy of the convents, more easily find their way into other countries; accordingly, in this style, we find some of the choicest morsels of Murillo in foreign galleries; in Munich, in the Dulwich gallery, and elsewhere.

This slight enumeration affords but a very imperfect glimpse of the pleasure which the admirer of Murillo will find in the gallery of Madrid; but in other collections, and especially in Seville, I shall have occasion to return to the works of this head of the Spanish schools; and at present I must proceed to notice briefly the pictures of Velasquez, and others, in the Madrid gallery.

Velasquez, the worthy rival, and, in many points, the equal of Murillo, whose master he was, differs in many respects from his pupil. He studied in Italy; and there acquired that knowledge of the antique, which is by some esteemed above the greater simplicity and unaffected grace that distinguish the works of Murillo. In Velasquez, thought and invention are not so spiritual as in his pupil, but his composition is more learned; and in his colouring, he is not excelled even by Titian. His colours often disappear under his brush, because they become in reality the thing which he desires them to represent.

One of, but not the most extraordinary composition of Velasquez in the Madrid gallery, is “A Meeting of Bacchanalians.” One in the midst of his companions, is seated across a barrel, which is his throne; he is crowned with vine-leaves, and presents a similar crown to another, who receives, with a kind of mock respect, this order of knighthood. There is extraordinary truth in this picture; in fact, the painter makes the spectator one of the party; he laughs in spite of himself, and almost feels as if he too had drained some bowls to the memory of Bacchus.

“The Infanta Margaritta-Mary of Austria,” is one of the most splendid compositions of Velasquez. Velasquez is himself represented with his pallet and brushes, painting the Infanta; and to distract the attention of the infant princess from the portrait, two dwarfs, and her favourite dog, are made to enter the apartment. This picture, in composition, design, and colouring, is absolutely perfect.

Several portraits of Philip the Fourth, the friend and patron of Velasquez,—particularly one upon horseback,—and one exquisite portrait of the Duque de Olivares, his prime minister, deserve the highest eulogium: a magnificent portrait also, which has obtained the appellation of “Esop;” “a Suitor for a Place,” who, in a garment of worn-out black, presents his memorial; a portrait of a “Dwarf and a Great Dog,” the “Surrender of the Town of Breda,” and a “Manufactory of Tapestry,” in which the painter has introduced a charming female countenance, are all excellent in their kind; but the most striking of all the pictures of Velasquez in this gallery is, The Forges of Vulcan. The god of fire is at his forge, surrounded by his Cyclopes, when Apollo brings him intelligence of his wife’s dishonour, and his own. The attitude and expression of Vulcan, are in Velasquez most powerful manner. He turns round as if scarcely crediting the message of infamy; but his dark countenance, which seems to grow darker as the spectator looks upon it, expresses that jealousy has taken possession of him; his hammer rests idle in his hand, and the Cyclopes, also, suspend their work to listen. The scene is the more striking from the true and brilliant colouring; the red light falling upon the group, and contrasting with the darkness of the subterranean world beyond. It is a pity that such a picture should contain any striking fault; and yet it is impossible to avoid perceiving that the Apollo is weakly conceived.

I have not even named the titles of the greater number of Velasquez pictures; but these few, although not better painted than many others, are more striking, owing to their subjects. The lover of portraits also, will find ample gratification in the many excellent works of this master, which adorn the gallery of Madrid.

Of the works of EspaÑoletto, the Madrid gallery contains several chef d’oeuvres. This painter was born near Valencia, in the year 1589; he was first the pupil of Ribalta, and afterwards, at Rome, of Caravaggio. The style of EspaÑoletto is, perhaps, more than any other painter, opposed to that of Murillo. Simplicity, and the graces of nature, are no where to be found in his works, which are forcible,—often verging upon the terrible; and whose object seems to be, rather to seize the imagination than to touch the heart. But the painting of EspaÑoletto, after he had seen the productions of Correggio, lost much of that exaggerated manner which the lessons of Caravaggio had taught him; and in his later styles, he has produced pictures which unite force with many other excellences. Among the best of this master’s works in the Madrid gallery are, St. Peter the Apostle weeping for his sins; in which the design, the composition, and the colouring, are all excellent;—Jacob’s Ladder, in which the author shews that he has profited by a study of the works of Correggio;—“The head of a Priest of Bacchus,” full of character and vigour;—and “Saint Sebastian,” in the last and best manner of the painter. Besides these pictures, there are many in the author’s first exaggerated style; such as “Prometheus bound,” “a Magdalen in the Desert,” and “Christ in the Bosom of the Eternal;” which, if not pleasing, are at least interesting, as contrasts with the improved style of EspaÑoletto’s later compositions.

There are still other pictures in the gallery which must not be passed over; but I shall not classify them. “Children Playing at Dice,” by Villavicencio, the disciple of Murillo, and in whose arms he died;—a picture full of nature and naÏvetÉ, and charmingly coloured.

“The Visitation of Saint Elizabeth,” by Juanes. Juanes is, undoubtedly, one of the greatest of the Spanish painters after Murillo and Velasquez; and this, as well as others of his compositions, is entitled to rank immediately after the works of these two masters.

“Saint John the Evangelist writing the Revelations in the Isle of Patmos,” by Alonzo Cano.

A “St. Francis in ecstasy,” by Cerezo, who was an excellent painter; and who, in design and colouring, sometimes approached Van Dyk.

“The Virgin and the Infant Jesus.” By Morales, sometimes called “The divine.”

An incomparable “Head of Christ, crowned with Thorns,” by Juanes.

“A Dead Christ,” by Alonzo Cano.

“A St. Francis,” by Ribalta.

“The Entombment of St. Etienne,” by Juanes, a picture which partakes largely of the graces that distinguish the school of Raphael and his followers.

“The Supper,” by Juanes. This is considered the chef d’oeuvre of the author, and was taken by the French, and afterwards restored. Love and devotion have seldom been more beautifully painted than in this picture.

“Jesus Interrogated by the Pharisees, touching the Tribute,” by Arias.

A saloon is dedicated to the modern Spanish school; containing the pictures both of the living masters, and of those who have lived within the last forty or fifty years. It is impossible to look upon these pictures without feeling more and more the excellences of those painters, who now live only in their works; for in the modern Spanish school, there is little to remind us of Murillo and Velasquez; or even of Juanes, Cano, or Morales. Difficult as it must be admitted to be, to imitate the unapproachable excellences of Murillo, it is surprising nevertheless, that the attempt to do this should scarcely ever be made. After the death of Murillo, as well as during his lifetime, there were innumerable artists, who, although conscious of the immeasurable distance at which they followed, yet, thought it wisdom patiently to seek the traces of his footsteps: and it is a merit of no ordinary kind, if a painter can earn the character of being a follower of Murillo; because this at least proves, that he is able to appreciate, even if he cannot approach, his excellences. But in looking through the gallery of the modern school, not one picture can be found, of which it may be said, “this is in the style of Murillo.”

Aparicio and Lopez are the painters who at present enjoy the highest reputation; but neither of these will suffer a comparison with Bayeu, who died thirty-five years ago, or with Goya, who has long since retired from a professional life, but who still lives at Bourdeaux. As little can the pictures of Bayeu or Goya be compared with the compositions of the ancient school.

The two great pictures of Aparicio are, “The Glories of Spain,” and “The Famine in Madrid,”—and both are more in the style of the modern French, than of the ancient Spanish school. The latter of these is intended to represent (as the author of it says), “The Triumph of Spanish Constancy.” During the time of the French invasion, in the winter of 1811-12, the famine that raged in Madrid, almost realized what we read, of ancient Numantia; and many examples of heroic patriotism are recorded of this time. The painter has chosen the following:—an old man, extenuated, and apparently dying, is stretched upon the ground; and the dead bodies of his daughter, and his grandson are at his feet: three French soldiers passing by, touched with compassion, offer him food; but he, disdaining to accept food from the enemies of his country, covers his face with his hands, that he may not be tempted, and prefers death to what he considers dishonour.

The subject is undoubtedly fine, and the picture has many merits; but it is impossible, in looking at any picture, the moral of which is intended to convey an abhorrence of French dominion in Spain, not to feel that we cannot give our sympathy to it; and the same feeling has led me, in walking over those fields of battle that have been fields of glory for England and Spain, to ask “where are the fruits”? They are nowhere to be found: the purchase-money was the blood and treasure of England: and what did they purchase?—the deeper degradation of Spain.

That part of the gallery which is appropriated to the Italian schools, I shall pass over almost without notice; not because there is nothing in it worthy of being mentioned, but because I could hope to add nothing to what is already universally known of the character of the great Italian masters. In the Italian saloons, there are many copies, and many re-touched pictures: but there are also a considerable number of sterling compositions. Guido, Andrea del Sarto, Giordano, Guercino, Leonardo da Vinci, Bassano, Alexander Veronese, Sachi, Salvator Rosa, Tintoretto, Titian, and Raphael, all contribute of their abundance. The most remarkable of these pictures, is the portrait of Mona Lisa, a lady of incomparable beauty, and the wife of Francisco Giocondo, a gentleman of Florence. This picture cost 180,000 reals.

In the saloon dedicated to the Flemish, German, and French schools, there are also some fine originals; particularly, two Claudes; a Bacchanalian piece, of Nicholas Poussin, remarkable for the excellence of its design, and its inimitable harmony; “David and Goliah,” also by N. Poussin; and “The Adoration of the Angels and the Shepherds,” by Mengs.

To be admitted to the Sala Reservada, requires an order from the Director of the institution; but this is always politely given upon application. In passing to the Sala Reservada, the visitor is conducted through a large apartment, in which a picture of the King’s landing at Cadiz occupies one of the walls. The painting contains upwards of twenty figures as large as life,—all portraits: this room is a favourite lounge of his majesty, who, it is said, contemplates with much complacency, the picture that records his restoration. In this Hall, the attention is speedily withdrawn from the picture, by two tables, that well merit admiration. At a little distance, they appear like exquisite flower-pieces, painted on glass,—but upon approaching, you discover that they are of marble; the ground black, and the flowers Mosaic. Upwards of eighty different flowers are represented: and, among the marbles of Spain and her late colonies, is found every variety of colour necessary to give perfect truth to the representation.

In the Sala Reservada are two “Sleeping Venuses,” by Titian, both too good to be seen by every one; “Adam and Eve,” by Rubens; and eight other pictures, by the same master. An excellent Tintoretto, “Andromeda and Perseus,” by Titian; “The Three Graces,” by Albano; and two delightful compositions of Breughel, in which trees, flowers, nymphs, and fountains, are charmingly mingled.

In the Hall of Statuary, I found tables quite equal in workmanship to those in the king’s apartment, but in value, far exceeding them. One represented a landscape, another a marine view—and the effect was produced, not merely by marbles, but also by innumerable precious stones, especially emeralds and sapphires; these tables were executed by a Spanish workman, about fifty years ago. Several good statues adorn the Hall; and it seems to me, that the state of modern sculpture in Spain, is more promising than that of its painting. A “Venus,” by Alvarez, and another, by Gines, are both excellent. There is also, connected with this Hall, a workshop, called the Hall of Restoration; there, many artists were employed in repairing the ravages of time. Venuses lay on the ground without arms; and Graces without noses. An Apollo was getting fitted with a new foot; and a Calliope with another knee.

There are two public days in the week, upon which all have access to the galleries; but I had permission to go at any time, and very frequently availed myself of it; most frequently upon the days that were not public. I generally saw a considerable number of artists engaged in copying; and all, in the galleries allotted to the Italian masters. Opportunity must not be confounded with encouragement. The artists of Spain have sufficient opportunities, but there is no encouragement; and both are needed, that the fine arts in a country may be flourishing. Spain, as well as Italy, produced her great painters when the art was considered necessary, and was therefore encouraged; when the adornment of the temples of religion was deemed essential; and when the different orders of friars, perceiving the effect of externals upon the minds of the people, vied with each other in multiplying these helps to devotion.

Another building, dedicated to the reception of works both of nature and of art, is the Cabinet of Natural History. The public galleries are allotted to mineralogy chiefly; in which department, the specimens are numerous, and many of them fine. I particularly remarked the very fine specimens of native gold; but above all, the extraordinary number and beauty of the precious stones, in which, I believe, the cabinet of Madrid excels every other in Europe. I noticed nearly forty emeralds upon one piece of rock, many of them of great size, and almost all of the purest quality. The specimens of crystal and of sulphur are also numerous and fine; but the native marbles are perhaps the most interesting of all. I counted no fewer than two hundred and seven different kinds. Other saloons in the building are appropriated to Conchology and Zoology, in which the most perfect department is considered to be that of the Butterflies.

But the Salas Reservadas are more interesting than the public rooms. One of the Salas is entirely filled with precious stones, and vessels made of them; it would almost fill a volume to enumerate the riches contained in this Hall. In the lower part of the building, also a Sala Reservada, is the Hall of Pictures; and here are preserved some of the choicest specimens of Murillo’s pencil. I could not understand why these, and other pictures in this Hall, are not deposited in the great picture gallery; the more exquisite they are, the better reason there seems to be for increasing the facilities for seeing them,—especially as there is nothing in any of these pictures improper to meet the public eye; the only excuse for a Sala Reservada.

Among the paintings here, is that exquisite one of Murillo, “Santa Isabella Queen of Portugal, curing the sick and wounded,” which I have already noticed in the memoir of Murillo. Another in this Hall, which ranks among the highest of Murillo’s productions, and which is less known than some others of his works, is “the Patrician’s Dream.” A Roman noble asleep, is supposed to have a vision, in which a celestial message commands the building of a temple. The Patrician is seen buried in deep sleep, and an angel is near, pointing to a single column. The colouring in this picture is exquisite; and a spirit of the most perfect repose is thrown over the whole composition. In the same Hall hangs the companion to this picture, in which the Patrician is seen recounting his dream to the Pope.

A “Mary Magdalen Penitent,” by Murillo, and a “St. Geronimo,” by EspaÑoletto, are also found here; but one of the most extraordinary pictures I have seen in Spain, is preserved in this Sola; it is by Antonio de Pereda, and is called “the DesengaÑo de la Vida,” which cannot be literally translated into English, but which means “the Discovery that Life is an Imposture.” A Caballero, about thirty years of age, handsome and graceful, is represented asleep, and around him are seen all those things in which he has found enjoyment. Upon one table lie heaps of gold, books, globes, and implements of study; upon another are the wrecks of a feast; musical instruments are scattered here and there; magnificent mirrors and paintings adorn the walls; and on the floor lies a jewel-box, which has dropped from the hand that hangs over the couch where he reclines; and a miniature of a beautiful woman has fallen out of it. But in the air, opposite to the sleeper, is seen the vision of an angel, who holds a scroll, with certain words inscribed upon it, which the painter has left for the imagination to decipher, and which may be naturally interpreted, “Let all pass,—eternity lies beyond;” and the countenance of the sleeping figure shews not only that he sees a vision,—but there is something in it so placid, so resigned, that it seems to express an acquiescence in the advice of the angel,—“Yes, it is all a cheat.”

I have perhaps dwelt too long upon this picture; but I was strongly impressed with its excellence, both in design and execution.

There are few private collections of great value in Madrid. Those of the Duke of Liria, and of the Duke of Medina Coeli, are the best. The former of these collections adjoins the duke’s palace in the Plaza de Liria; and having carried an introductory letter to his Grace from the Marquesa de Montemar, the duke did me honour to accompany me round the gallery. I found three good Murillos,—“St. Roch,” “Santa Teresa,” and “Murillo’s Son,”—the latter only in his best style; several pictures, which may or may not be Salvator Rosa’s; but generally believed to be originals; two of Rubens: a “Battle of the Amazons;” and “Ruben’s Wives,”—the latter in his best manner; “Adam and Eve chased out of Paradise,” by Paul Veronese, in all the grace and sweetness of that esteemed master; “A Holy Family,” by Gaspar Poussin; three landscapes, by Nicholas Poussin; a charming portrait of Mengs, by himself; two or three delightful gems of Berghem, full of beauty and repose; three Titians, “A Holy Family,” the female head singularly beautiful; “St. John in the Wilderness,” a picture of great richness and finish; and “A Boy playing with a Lion;” a “Venus,” by Brencino; two Canalettos, but neither of them in his best style; “The Children of Velasquez,” by Velasquez; and “A Holy Family,” by Perucini, the well known ÉlÈve of Raphael,—for which the present possessor paid 10,000 sequins.

The Duke of Liria’s gallery also contains some statuary; a Venus, by Alvarez, the Spanish Canova; and the Mother of the Duke by the same sculptor. The Duke of Liria, although not himself a great connoisseur in the fine arts, is their liberal patron, which is better. The chapel in the Duke’s house contains some good fresco, by Antonio Callione de Torino, a very promising Spanish painter, but who, by his bad conduct, was forced to exile himself, and who lately died in France.

The collection of ancient armour in the residence of the Duke of Medina Coelie interesting than his pictures. It contains, among other things, the armour of Gonsalva de Cordova. The Duke of Medina Coeli possesses immense revenues; but, like the greater number of the grandees in Spain, he is encumbered with debt, being robbed by those to whom he has delegated the management of his property. It is a certain fact, that several of the Spanish nobles whose property lies in Andalusia, and other southern provinces, have never seen their own estates.

The lover of pictures will be disappointed in his search among the churches and convents of Madrid. The collegiate church of San Isidro contains the greatest number; but they are not of first-rate excellence; and this church, as well as all the others in Madrid, are so dark, that it is impossible to obtain a proper view of any thing which they contain. The church of San Isidro is not worthy of being the metropolitan church. The interior is in the ornate taste of the Jesuits, to whom it formerly belonged; but it has taken a higher rank since the real body of the patron saint of Madrid, and the ashes of Santa Maria de la Cabeza, have been deposited within its walls. There are, however, some pictures in this church which, with a favourable light, are worth visiting. Among the best are “the Conversion of St. Paul,” and “San Francisco Xavier baptizing the Indians,” by Jordan; a Christ, by Morales; another Baptism of the Indians, by Jordan; and several others of Cano, Coello, and Palomino. In one of the chapels are two urns, wherein are deposited the ashes of Velarde y Daoiz, and the other victims of the 2d of May, 1808, in memory, as it is recorded, of “the glorious insurrection of Spain.”

The church of San Salvador is only interesting as containing the tomb of Calderon; that of Santa Maria is honoured by being the depository of the miraculous image of our lady of Alumeda. San Gines has a Christ by Cano, and the Annunciation by Jordan. Santiago contains two or three pictures by Jordan; and San Antonia de Florida boasts of a fresco by Goya. This limited interest is all that the churches of Madrid possess.

Among the sixty-eight convents in Madrid, few possess great interest from the treasures of art which they contain. It is in Seville, and in the other cities of the south, that the convents offer the chiefest attractions to the lovers of painting.

The greatest and the richest among the convents of Madrid, is Las Salesas. It was founded by Ferdinand the VIth., and is adorned with a profusion of the most beautiful marbles and porphyries of Cuenca and Granada. I noticed several columns of green marble, upwards of sixteen feet high, and each of one piece. Both in the church of the convent, and in its sacristy, there are some good pictures; and a fine marble monument, raised by command of Charles III. to the memory of the founder, does credit to the taste of Francisco Sabatini, who designed it, and to the powers of Francisco Gutierrez, who executed it. The morning service in the church of this convent is enchanting; the nuns, all of noble family, and well educated,—chiefly in the same convent,—seem to have made music a principal study. I have never heard an organ touched with so delicate a hand, as in the Convento de las Salesas.

The church of the Convent de la Encarnacion, also a female convent of bare-footed Augustins, contains beautiful marbles, and some pictures perhaps worth a visit, by Castillo, BartolomÉ, Roman, and Greco.

The Franciscan convent is worth visiting, only on account of its great extent; it contains ten courts, and dormitories for two hundred monks. Every where the Franciscans are the most numerous. It is said of Cirillo, the chief, or general, as he is called, of the Franciscan order,—he who is now exiled from Madrid,—that he boasted of his power of putting 80,000 men under arms: a force almost equal to the king’s. The head of the Franciscan order used formerly to reside in Rome, but the present head has made choice of Spain.

The convent of Santa Isabel was robbed by the French of many choice works of EspaÑoletto; but it still possesses some pictures by Cerezo, Coello, and others,—these are in the church of the convent; but it is said that there are others in the interior, which it is difficult, if not impossible, to see. There cannot be a doubt, that among the many hundred convents in Spain, in the interior of many of which no man has ever been,—no one, at all events, whose object has been to search for pictures,—there are hidden, many productions of the first masters. These may have come into their possession in many ways; they may have been the individual property of distinguished persons previous to taking the veil; they may have been bequeathed to the convent by the founder; the gift of the painters themselves; or offerings of the devout: but it is certain, that pictures of value and merit are shut up in convents. I am acquainted with a gentleman at Seville, who himself purchased “Joseph’s Dream,” by Juanes, and a portrait by Giordano, from the abbess of the Dominican convent at Seville,—who sold them in order to purchase certain ornaments for one of the altars.

The convent of San Pasqual was, previous to the French invasion, the richest in paintings of any of the convents or monasteries in Madrid. It possessed the compositions of Van Dyk, Veronese, Titian, Da Vinci, Jordan, and many other eminent painters. The greater number of these have been removed; but there are still several left, that well repay the trouble of a visit to the church of the convent. There is the “Taking of Christ in the Garden,” by Van Dyk; a “Conception,” by EspaÑoletto; “St. Francis in Prayer,” by Veronese; and one or two others by EspaÑoletto. Several more valuable than these, among the rest, “Jacob Blessing his Sons,” by Guercino, have been removed from the church into the interior; but the porter informed me, that it was intended shortly to restore them again to the different chapels in the convent church. These paintings were bequeathed to this convent by its founder, the Duke de Medina y Almirante de Castilla; affording another example of the manner in which pictures may come into the possession of nuns.

There is reason to believe that in the convent of Santa Teresa also, there are paintings of value. During the time of the scarcity in Madrid, several pictures that used to adorn the church of the convent, were openly sold; and these have since been replaced by others,—several of them, works of merit, which could not have come from any other quarter than the interior of the convent. But in the church, there is yet preserved a picture of great beauty and value: this is a copy of the “Transfiguration of Raphael,” by Julio Romano; one of the most successful disciples of that great master. This picture, also, was left to the convent by its founder, the Prince Astillano, under the condition that it should never be parted with.

The only other convents worth visiting, are the Las Salesas Nuevas, which contains a Crucifixion of Greco; and Las Descalzas Reales, in which will be found a good statue of the Infanta DoÑa Juana, daughter of Charles V., from the hand of Pompeyo Leoni.

I regret much that I was not able to see the palace with so much attention as it deserves. I delayed from time to time making any application for admission; and in the mean while, the situation of the queen bringing the court from La Granja two months sooner than usual, the palace was only to be seen at short intervals, when the king and queen left it; and as the hour of the sortie was uncertain, the interval between obtaining the order, and their majesties return, was very limited.

The new palace, although but a small part of the original plan, is nevertheless one of the most magnificent in Europe. It was begun in the year 1737, and was built under the direction of Don Juan Bautista Saquete, the disciple of Jubarra. It is a square, each front being 470 feet in length, and 100 feet in height; a balustrade runs round the whole, to hide the leaden roof, and the walls are relieved and adorned by innumerable columns and pilasters. The interior of the palace corresponds with its external magnificence; every thing within it, is of the most costly and most sumptuous kind, bespeaking the habitation of monarchs who once owned the riches of half the world. The paintings have been mostly removed to the gallery, but some yet remain; particularly “the Rape of Proserpine,” and some others, by Reubens; “a Magdalen,” and some others, by Van Dyk; several exquisite paintings, by Mengs; and among others, “The Agony in the Garden;” two Cattle pieces, by Velasquez; and several charming pictures, by Tintoretto, Carlo Maratti, and Andrea Vacaro. The ceilings also, by Bayeu, Velasquez, and Mengs, may well excite admiration. In the apartments of the Infantes likewise, I understand there are some valuable paintings; but these, I had not an opportunity of seeing. The great license that is allowed the public, has sometimes surprised me. The royal apartments are of course guarded; but any person may walk up the stairs, and along all the corridors, and even through the ante-rooms without being once questioned.

In the neighbourhood of the palace, is the royal armoury, which contains many ancient relics; among others, the arms of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Charles V., of King Chico, the last of the Moorish kings, and of several kings and warriors,—those hardly-used Americans, who took the Spaniards for gods, and found them worse savages than themselves.