the height opposite to the Bridge of Alcantara, marks the site of a
monastery, erected by Alfonso VI. in gratitude for his escape from the
rout of Sacralias (1086). It was peopled by Benedictines from Sahagun
and Cluny. These holy men soon found by the defensive works with which
their new home was provided that their duties would not be entirely of a
clerical description. Yusuf-ben-Tashfin, the Almoravide leader, almost
destroyed the building during his abortive siege of Toledo, and Alfonso
subsequently gave the establishment the aspect and features of a
fortress. As such it bore the brunt of the repeated Saracen onslaughts
in the first half of the twelfth century. It was abandoned in
consequence by the monks, and was bestowed by Alfonso VIII. on the
Knights Templars. It continued in their possession till the suppression
of the Order in 1312. It seems to have fallen into ruins soon after, and
was rebuilt about 1386, on the initiative of the great archbishop,
Tenorio. It is not a very interesting monument. It is built of masonry,
with facings of red brick here and there. Three of its four sides are
standing, and the same number of towers. These bear a resemblance to the
outer or circular tower of the Puerta del Sol. The windows and arches
exhibit Moorish, or rather Mudejar, influence. The castle in its day
must have been a fine specimen of the mediæval stronghold. To-day its
ruin is complete. It serves as a home to the owl and the bat, and the
very ghosts of monks and templars seem to have deserted it as
uninhabitable.
The castle is referred to by Calderon and other writers, and seems at
one time to have been a favourite spot for duels.
The increased importance of Toledo as the capital of Castile
necessitated the improvement of its communications with the outside
world. The Bridge of Alcantara was, at the time of the Reconquest, the
only permanent traject across the Tagus, and the bridge of boats on the
western side of the town having been swept away, Alfonso X. (1252-1289)
decreed the construction of a stone bridge now known as the Puente de
San Martin. It was built of five arches and lasted till the reign of
Pedro I., when it was blown up by that king’s partisans to obstruct the
entry of Enrique de Trastamara. It continued in a practically demolished
condition for twenty years, when the great archbishop, Pedro Tenorio,
determined to restore the missing arches at his own expense. It is said
that the architect entrusted with the work found, to his dismay, the
night before the day fixed for the opening, that, owing to some
oversight in his calculations, the whole fabric would collapse on the
removal of the scaffolding. He made known the cause of his anxiety to
his wife; and she rose at dead of night, and setting fire to the whole
structure preserved her husband’s reputation and, not impossibly, his
life. The reconstructed bridge was, of course, without fault or flaw. A
final reconstruction took place in 1690. On the town side, the Puente de
San Martin is defended by two square towers. Above the archway are two
inscriptions relating to the works executed by order of Charles II. The
further extremity of the bridge is defended by another square
battlemented tower with a horseshoe arch. Its two bridges are among the
most picturesque features of Toledo.
With the obvious exception of the cathedral, the most interesting
monuments of what we may term the middle age of Toledo are the two
synagogues, now styled Santa Maria la Blanca and El Transito. The Jews,
as we have seen, everywhere loom large in the annals of Toledo.
The first-named of these temples derives its actual name from a
tradition that a Christian church occupied the site in Visigothic times,
to account for the dedication of which a legend is repeated similar to
that of Santa Maria ad Nives at Rome. It is situated on what was once
the Jewry or Ghetto, on the western side of the city, not far from the
Puente de San Martin. Its foundation--as a synagogue--is variously
ascribed to the period of the Reconquest, to the last days of the
Moorish dominion, and to the latter period of the Khalifate. The first
date seems the most probable. It continued to be used for the Jewish
worship till 1405, when, as has been already told, it was seized and
converted into a Catholic church. It has long since become a merely
secular monument. The exterior, approached through the most miserable
and sordid neighbourhood, is very far from reflecting the splendour the
Jews enjoyed at its foundation. The façade, mean and dilapidated like
the rest of the exterior, is probably of much more recent construction
also. Within, a strange, fantastic impression is created. The phrase,
“How are the mighty fallen!” involuntarily rises to the lips as one
contemplates the traces of grandeur and elegance subsisting amid ruin
and decay. The temple is symbolical of the race: exotic, reminiscent of
a lost glory, depressed, oppressed. There is, however, no trace or
suggestion of the primitive Hebrew architectural style about the
building. The traditions of Jerusalem were either unknown to, or had
been forgotten by, those who reared these walls--likely enough Moors,
whose skill was always at the disposal of Christian and Jew. In fact,
the synagogue may be taken as a fine example of late Saracenic work. The
plan consists of a nave with two aisles on each side. The nave was
prolonged in the seventeenth century so as to form a chancel. The
building is 81 feet long by 63 feet wide. The nave reaches to a height
of 60 feet, and is 15 feet broad, while the aisles measure only 12 feet
and rise from 40 to 50 feet high. The nave and aisles are separated by
four rows of octagonal columns, from which spring bold horseshoe arches
of the true Moorish type. The capitals are of stucco and elaborately
designed with floral devices, in which the fir-cone is conspicuous;
there is a vague suggestion of Byzantine influence. Mr. Street imagines
them to be much later than the original capitals which they overlay.
“All the Moorish decorative work seems to have been executed in the same
way in plaster. This was of very fine quality, and was evidently cut and
carved as if it had been stone, and seldom, if ever, I think, stamped or
moulded, according to the mistaken practice of the present day. The
consequence is that there is endless variety of design everywhere
and--wherever it was desired--any amount of undercutting. The spandrels
above the arches are filled in with arabesque patterns, and there is a
cusped wall arcade below the roof.” All this stucco work appears to date
from about the time of Alfonso X., or perhaps from a later restoration.
Above the nave is an exquisite frieze in low relief, formed of lines
interlacing and crossing each other. The roof is of pine-wood, and _not_
of Lebanon cedar, as at one time alleged. Mr. Street thinks “the
pavement is very good, but must be about the date of the conversion of
the synagogue into a church. It is divided into compartments by border
tiles laid down the length of the church on either side of the columns.
The spaces between them are filled in with a rich diaper of encaustic
and plain red tiles, whilst the general area between these richer bands
is paved with large red, relieved by an occasional encaustic, tiles. The
latter have patterns in white, dark blue, and yellow, and in all cases
they are remarkable for the beautiful inequality of the colours of the
surface of the design. Both colour and material are in themselves better
than the work of our tile manufacturers of the present day and
illustrate very well the difference between hand-work and machinework.”
The Catholics added three altars in the plateresque style, which, it is
unnecessary to say, do not harmonise with the rest of the edifice. One
of the retablos is attributed to Berruguete.
Comparing this old Jewish meeting-place with the other and later
synagogue, Miss Hannah Lynch remarks: “As a religious temple, as the
expression of solemn worship rooted in the strange and mysterious East,
the former is by far the more imposing, the more earnest and harmonious.
Prayer in the _Transito_ seems a matter of graceful and artistic
dilettanteism; here it appears a great racial cry of the soul.”
The later vicissitudes of this synagogue are curious. About the middle
of the sixteenth century it was converted by Cardinal Siliceo into an
asylum for the professional frail ones of Toledo; but about half a
century later the establishment ceased to exist--whether because there
was no more frailty in Toledo or no more repentance, we are not told.
Subsequently it was turned into a barracks, and then (O’Shea says) into
a dancing-hall.
The Transito (so called after the Transit of the Blessed Virgin, _i.e._,
the Assumption) is situated in the same quarter. We have already told
the story of its foundation by Samuel Ha Levi, the powerful treasurer of
Pedro I. Upon the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492, it was
handed over to the Order of Calatrava, who dedicated it to St. Benedict
(San Benito). This synagogue is also purely Moorish in style, but of the
later or Granadan period. Its plan differs radically from that of Santa
Maria la Blanca. It constitutes a parallelogram, undivided into naves
and aisles, 76 feet by 31 feet, and 44 feet high. The effect is simple
and graceful. The side walls are quite plain up to the height of about
twenty feet, where a broad frieze of stucco runs round the building,
with floral and star pattern designs, and bordered by inscriptions in
Hebrew. Above this is an arcade with double shafts, and extremely rich
capitals. The arches are of the horseshoe form, cusped into seven
points. Eight of the arches contain lattice-work of the most beautiful
design. Indeed, the whole of the arcading is rich and graceful beyond
all praise. The western wall, where was formerly the Rabbinical chair,
and is now the altar, is profusely decorated with patterns,
inscriptions, and coats of arms, down to within seven feet of the floor.
In the opposite wall windows have been pierced, breaking into the
frieze. The roof is of cedar, and a fine specimen of _artesonado_ work.
Across it run tie-beams, superfluous in this case, but of which the
Moorish builders were fond. The rafters slope down equally to a deep
cornice, which is carried right across the angles, “so as to give
polygonal ends to the roof.”
On either side of the altar are long Hebrew inscriptions now illegible,
and the precise meaning of which has been a subject of fierce and
perpetual controversy. The text on the Epistle side may be translated:
“The mercies which God hath shown us, raising up amongst us judges and
princes to deliver us from our enemies and oppressors.... And we of this
land have built this house with a strong and mighty arm. The day that it
was built was great and delightful for the Jews, who, attracted by the
fame of these things, came from the ends of the earth to see ... if a
ruler should be given us who should be as a tower of strength ... to
govern our commonwealth.... And there was raised up to help us, Samuel
[Levi,] and God was with him and with us, and who found for us grace and
mercy. He was a man of peace, powerful among all the people, and a great
builder. These things were accomplished in the reign of the King Don
Pedro; may God be his helper, enlarge his dominions, prosper him and
succour him, and place his seat over all princes. May God be with him
and all his house, and may every man be humbled before him ... and let
those who hear his name rejoice to hear it in all the Kingdoms, and let
it be manifest that he has been unto Israel a defender and a shield.”
The inscription on the Gospel side proclaims the Rabbi Myir Abdali as
the architect and extols his pre-eminent virtues, and pathetically
celebrates the return of good and prosperous times--times not destined
to last for the luckless race!
In the neighbourhood of the synagogue exists the skeleton of the palace
built by the great Jewish treasurer. It afterwards passed into the hands
of the Marquises of Villena, and is associated with Don Enrique de
Aragon, uncle of Juan II., a very interesting personality. He was a man
of vast learning, and was, probably in consequence, reputed to be a
magician and in league with the Evil One. Indeed, his magnificent
library, including his own writings, was, in after years, burnt by order
of the Inquisition. Beneath the mansion are still to be found various
subterranean chambers, which popular superstition declares to have been
the scene of Don Enrique’s conferences with Satan and his satellites.
This necromancer was indeed Marquis of Villena, but it is by no means
certain that he inhabited this house, which afterwards became the
property of another family (the Pachecos), on whom the title was
conferred by Enrique IV. The palace was deliberately burnt by its owner,
the Duque de Escalona, in the reign of Charles V., it having been
contaminated, as he thought, by the temporary residence within its walls
of the Constable de Bourbon, then in arms against his own country. The
Castilian grandee’s sense of honour was not a mere pose. The building is
now the property of the Marquis de la Vega, who has tastefully restored
it. It receives additional interest from its having been, as is now
believed, the home of El Greco.
Two ruinous structures are pointed out as the palaces of Don Pedro and
of Enrique de Trastamara respectively. The latter probably belonged to
one of the Counts of Trastamara, not to the king who bore that title. It
is in the Moorish style, with horseshoe arches, friezes, and _ajimeces_.
The so-called palace of Don Pedro is of the same class of architecture,
but has much less to show--a horseshoe arch, a dado, and an almost
illegible Arabic inscription which reads, “Lasting glory and perpetual
prosperity to the master of this house.”
Better examples of the Mudejar (or late Moorish) style are the Casa del
Mesa and the Taller del Moro. The former is situated close to the church
of San Román, and was built soon after the Reconquest by that prominent
Toledan, Esteban Illán. The saloon is one of the very best examples of
this style of architecture. It is 60 feet long by 22 feet wide, and 36
feet high. The artesonado ceiling is thus described by Street: “The
patterns are formed by ribs (square in section) of dark wood with a
white line along the centre of the soffit of each. The sides of the ribs
are painted red, and the recessed panels have lines of white beads
painted at their edges, and in the centre an arabesque on a dark blue
ground. The colours are so arranged as to mark out as distinctly as
possible the squares and patterns into which it is divided, and the
sinking of some panels below the others allows the same pattern to be
used for borders and grounds with very varied effect. The reds are
rather crimson in tone, and the blues very dark.” The entrance--of a
slightly horseshoe pattern--is framed in exquisite and luxuriant
traceries. So also is the opposite _ajimez_ window, but here the designs
show Gothic influence. A high dado of _azulejos_ and a very deep cornice
and frieze of delicate workmanship complete the decoration of this very
beautiful hall.
The Taller del Moro is (quite without foundation) said to occupy the
site of the massacre of the _Noche Toledana_. It was so called because
it was used as a workshop during the building of the cathedral. There is
a conflict of opinion as to its age, but it probably dates from about
the time of the Reconquest. The Arabic inscriptions, however, imply that
it was intended for the habitation of a Moor, the Latin texts being
doubtlessly added by later owners. The Taller consists of a large hall,
54 feet long by 23 feet wide, and of two adjacent smaller apartments. It
exhibits the artesonado ceiling, the delicate stucco-work and friezes
with star-like and floral designs we are led to expect in specimens of
Mudejar architecture. Street doubts if the stucco-work dates further
back than 1350. The portal is in good Gothic style, and was added by
Cardinal Mendoza.
As in all other Spanish cities, after their reacquisition by the
Christians, in Toledo, for many, many years, Moorish architects and
masons continued to be employed even in the construction of sacred
edifices. This accounts for the mixed Christian and Saracenic style of
several of the churches, even where these had not originally been
mosques. The interesting church of San Román had been a Mohammedan
temple remodelled to the requirements of Christian worship, while the
tower or steeple is a Mudejar work added by Esteban Illán, and (to quote
Mr. Street), “the finest example of its class to be seen here.” The
steeple is of rough stone and brick, of a warm brown tone, and quite
plain for more than half its height. The upper stages are pierced with
windows which exhibit a very ungraceful trefoiled variation of the
horseshoe arch--then fast dying out. Notwithstanding, the steeple has a
noble and rugged appearance, like most things Toledan. The church itself
has been so often restored, that it is hard to assign it to any one
epoch. The Capilla Mayor is of the sixteenth century, and of the
plateresque style. One of the altars has a front of black stone, carved
at the edges in imitation of an altar-cloth with embroidery and lace.
Here and there traces may be detected of the original mosque. The
steeples of the churches of Santa Magdalena, Santo Tomé, San Pedro
Martir, San Miguel, Santa Leocadia, and La Concepcion, resemble that of
San Román, but differ greatly in size.
The minor churches of Toledo are not specially interesting. Without the
walls, however, is one with noteworthy characteristics. The little
“basilica” of the Cristo de la Vega occupies the site of the famous
church of St. Leocadia, built by the Visigothic King, Sisebuth, in the
seventh century, to mark the place of the virgin saint’s martyrdom.
Several of the great councils were held here. The story is told that the
saint appeared in person here to St. Ildefonso, in the presence of King
Recceswinth, and having expressed her satisfaction at the theologian’s
masterly defence of the virginity of the Blessed Virgin, allowed him,
with the royal dagger, to cut off a piece of her veil as a souvenir of
her visit. This event naturally raised the “basilica” in the estimation
of the devout. It was demolished by the Moors, and restored in 1162. It
underwent many restorations and was finally ruined by the French during
the War of Independence. The present edifice represents little more than
the apse of the chapel of the Cristo de la Vega. There was a miraculous
crucifix, attached to which is a particularly silly legend. Two lovers
had plighted their troth before the image, and the man afterwards denied
the promise. The girl adjured the Christ to bear witness to the truth of
her statement, and the figure obligingly extended a wooden arm while a
voice from on high proclaimed, “_I testify._” Another version has it
that the figure testified in favour of a Christian who (_mirabile
dictu_) had lent money to a Jew; and yet another, that it expressed
approbation of the magnanimity of a cavalier who had pardoned his enemy
under extraordinary circumstances. Whatever it may have done, the
crucifix has long since disappeared. An Arabic inscription deduces that
Mohammed ben Rahman, first King of Toledo, was buried here, A.D. 743. As
there was no king in the city of that year, and as the first independent
sovereign was otherwise named, the inscription must be apocryphal or
else the word “king” must signify in the original merely _Vali_ or
governor.
A legend, better known and rather less silly than that of the Cristo de
la Vega, deals with the love affairs of an imaginary Moorish princess,
called Galiana “la mora mas celebrada de toda la moreria,” the daughter
of an equally mythical king, called Galafre. _He_ is linked up with
history by some writers alleging him to have been the nephew of the
wicked Count Julian, Galiana was the apple of her parent’s eye, and for
her delectation he built a palace abounding in all conceivable delights.
The young lady had, in some way, compromised herself with a gigantic
Moor, Bradamante by name; and to rid her of this truculent wooer, no
less a personage than Charlemagne appeared on the scene. All, of course,
ended happily (except for Bradamante) by the conversion of the lovely
princess and her marriage to the gallant Frank. In the Puerta del Rey,
outside the town, may still be seen a building dilapidated, let out in
tenements, which is pointed out as the Palace of Galiana. The place was
a mansion of the great Guzman family and exhibits traces of fine Moorish
work--horseshoe arches, twin-windows, a defaced inscription or two, some
tiling, and arabesques--enough, in short, to conjure up a splendid
Moorish palace, which, however, need not have antedated the Reconquest.
The building is the property of H.I.M. the Empress Eugénie, and it is
somewhat to be regretted that her attention has not been directed to its
present condition and to the chance here presented of retarding the
decay of a valuable monument of antiquity.
THE CATHEDRAL
Transcending in importance all the other monuments of Toledo and,
indeed, of Castile, is the Cathedral--one of the noblest specimens of
Gothic architecture the world affords. The metropolitan church of Spain,
it is sumptuous without gaudiness, austere without gloominess, admirably
interpreting the spirit of Spanish Catholicism before it withered under
the chilling influence of Philip II. and the Inquisition. The Cathedral
of Toledo does not impress the foreigner as typically national. Indeed
it corresponds no longer to the temper of the nation. And it was raised
as a protest against those Moorish influences which have passed into the
life and art of Spain, and without which nothing can be taken as
representatively Spanish.
The Cathedral of Toledo, then, is Gothic, and may be said to embody the
ideals of old Spain--of the young fighting nation that looked forward,
not backward. Splendid as the Mosque seized by Archbishop Bernard and
converted to Christian uses may have been, it was the work of the
infidel. In 1227 King Ferdinand III. and the Archbishop Don Rodrigo de
Rada were able at last to give effect to a determination arrived at some
years before; and on August 14 the first stone of a new temple, which
should never have been contaminated by Muslim rites, was laid with
solemn ceremony. The name of the architect continues to be a matter of
controversy. An epitaph in the sacristy of the Capilla de los Doctores
affords some clue to his identity. It runs as follows:
Agni: jacet: Petrus Petri: magister
Eclesia: Scte: Marie: Toletani: fama:
Per exemplum: pro more: huic: bona:
Crescit: qui presens: templum: construxit
Et hic quiescit: quod: quia: tan: mire:
Fecit: vili: sentat: ire: ante: Dei:
Vultum: pro: quo: nil: restat: multum:
Et sibi: sis: merce: qui solus: cuncta:
Coherce: obiit: x dias de Novembris:
Era: de M: et CCCXXVIII (A.D. 1290).