Madrid: an historical description and handbook of the Spanish capital

by Albert Frederick Calvert

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

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

The Royal Armoury

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

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

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

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

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

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

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