The first stone was laid on April 23, 1563. Toledo worked upon the Escorial till 1567, when he died. His scheme embraced the monastery for fifty Hieronymite monks, the royal residence, the burial-chamber, and the church. Juan Bautista de Toledo was succeeded by Juan de Herrera, who enlarged the convent and designed a bell tower. His assistant was Juan de Minjores, who had executed the church of the Alhambra, and planned part of the Alcazar of Seville. Toledo’s plan was ambitious and eccentric. He was influenced by the Renaissance ideals, and he employed the Doric style in its severest examples. Philip would have no luxurious decorations, no flamboyant effects; everything must be plain to austerity. Some critics have asserted that the simplicity of the Escorial is impressive and noble, while others complain of its rigidity and sombreness. The plan of the building is in the shape of a gridiron, to commemorate, it is surmised, the fate of San Lorenzo, who was roasted on a grid. The handle of the gridiron is represented by the Palace of the Infantas; the monastery, the seminary, and the royal apartments represent the bars of the implement upon which the saint was martyred. It is evident that the architects were not allowed perfect freedom in their designs. The king constantly inspected their plans, corrected or improved them according to his own ideas, and made numerous suggestions. From his youth Philip had displayed a love of architecture, and there is no doubt that he was personally the inventor of many features of the Escorial. It has been related that he somewhat hampered the designers by his frequent insistence upon severity of style, and by his interference in many details of the work. The king often repaired to a rock commanding a view of the busy scene beneath, where he would sit for hours, watching the progress made by the great army of craftsmen and toilers. A fear, which was almost morbid, assailed him at the dread thought that he might die before his scheme was brought to its completion. His days were occupied in superintending the tasks of the architects, artists, and decorators, and in pious meditation in his retreat. Sometimes he would roam with his gun, in the surrounding grey wilderness, unattended, and buried in reflection. His relations with the favourite painters of his retinue were of the friendliest order, and he avoided the attitude of the mere patron. With Titian the king was very intimate, and he would sit by the easel of Coello, watching the picture that grew upon the canvas. The studio of Coello adjoined the royal apartment, and Philip came frequently to converse with the painter. He delighted also in the society of Antonio Moro. To Titian he paid large sums for his services, and when the work was finished the king handsomely pensioned the artist. When Titian died, the pension was continued to his son.