, if he succeeded and escaped.
The battle was gained, and in 1567 he began the convent, led to this spot by the circumstance that he had often hunted here, and perhaps by his gloomy disposition, which seemed always to delight in barrenness and desolation. . . . . The convent itself is worthy of the severest influences of the most monkish ages.
It is the only establishment I have ever met that satisfied all the ideas I had formed, of the size of a monastery such as Mrs. Radcliffe or Dennis Jasper Murphy describes, and which is here so immense that, in the space occupied by its chief staircase alone, a large house might be built. . . . . For two days I enjoyed walking about continually with the monks, the prior, and the Bishop of Toledo, who happened to be there.
The church of the convent would be reckoned among the large churches of Rome, and the beautiful ones of Italy.
The instant I entered it, its light, disencumbered arches and dome, its broad, fine naves, and its massy, impo