Buildings of the Castilian Period
The earliest specimens of post-Moorish architecture in Toledo partake more or less of the character of fortifications. For many years, as we have seen, after the Reconquest the Christians’ hold upon the city was precarious, and the first efforts of the Castilian kings was naturally towards strengthening its defences. The history of the walls of Toledo is obscure and confused; but it seems certain that a wall has always extended within historic times across the northern side of the loop formed by the river. The Conqueror Alfonso VI. strengthened and added to this defence by the erection of the newer or outer wall, inclosing the suburb or Arrabal del Antequeruela. He also appears to have restored the inner or Moorish wall, and has left traces on the magnificent Puerta del Sol, a Moorish work which must have been quite new in his day. Indeed, it may possibly have been built by Moorish masons after the Reconquest. It is a noble and impressive portal to the grand old city, and most powerfully impresses the beholder. Quadrado will have it that so dignified a monument can have been the work only of a ruling race, in the days of its liberty and glory; it could not have been the mere afterglow of the ascendency and taste of a nation now subjugated. We may, however, be permitted to doubt whether the political decadence of a people becomes instantly manifested in its artistic life. The gateway forms a high tower with two flanking turrets, one square and abutting on the wall, the other rounded and finishing off the enceinte. The portal is composed of a succession of four arches, all being of the horseshoe shape, though the outer arches are more pointed than the inner ones. Above the outermost arch is a double row of arcades of brickwork, the arches intersecting. Over the second arch is a circular medallion in relief, representing the Virgin offering the chasuble to St. Ildefonsus. Another relief in marble is supposed to represent the summary punishment of Fernan Gonzalez by St. Ferdinand, for the seduction of two young women. The battlements are of a type common enough in Spanish Christian architecture, but which Mr. Street thinks was derived originally from the Moors. Another writer, Mr. O’Shea, remarks: “This gate with its warm orange tints, that contrast so admirably with the lapis-lazuli azure of the cloudless sky, its battlement fringing the top, and opening vistas of most novel aspect, is a treasure for an artist.” The exceeding quaintness and majesty of this gateway have moved many writers to express themselves almost too rapturously. Toledo’s other gates—the Puerta Nueva de Visagra and the Puerta del Cambrón—date from a much later period.
The rude, dismantled pile of the Castle of San Servando, which crowns 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.