SINCE visiting Toledo I have read that masterly novel by Blasco de IbaÑez, “The Cathedral,” a work of genius, which has brought the city vividly to my recollection. I see the old dun-coloured houses on the slopes, the gorge of the yellow Tagus, and the commanding steeple of the cathedral, and I recall the Oriental landscape, viewed from the walls, under a blue, burning sky in June. I know that the goats still wander forth to their feeding-grounds in the early morning, returning at dusk, with softly tinkling bells, that the guitar sounds melodious and low outside the barred window when it is dark, that beggars, wrapped in tattered cloaks, solicit alms “For the Love of God,” and that the voice of the watchman rings clear at midnight, as he goes his rounds with his lantern and keys, and a sword at his side.

TOLEDO, 1837.
TOLEDO, 1837.

“Romantic” is the word that describes Toledo; the setting of the city, its labyrinthine alleys, its guarded houses, its Moorish fortress, and its dreaming mood make appeal to the most apathetic of strangers.

The aspect of the city is hardly beautiful. It is too stern, too sombre, even in sunlight, and it lacks the colour and gaiety of the Andalusian towns. And yet Toledo is one of the most fascinating cities in Europe, holding you with a strong spell, a grim, irresistible invitation to remain within its gates. There is so much to behold, so much to think upon, in this old Moorish place. The cathedral alone claims long days of your sojourn, for it is a great monument, haunted with memories, and richly stored with treasures of art.

Many legends surround the making of Toledo, one of them relating that Tubal, grandson of Noah, built the city, and another that it was reared by Jews driven from Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. We know, however, that Toledo was chiefly noted as the stronghold of the Catholic faith in Spain, that it was in existence in the time of the Romans, held by the Moors, wrested from them, and restored to the Spanish after many bloody conflicts, and that it is now the seat of the primate. For four centuries the Moors held sway here, and everywhere in the city they have left their traces. Before the Moors, King Roderick the Goth sat on his throne in the strongly fortified town, and thither came Tarik and his hordes, coveting the rich capital. Later, the great Abd-er-Rahman advanced upon Toledo, and laid siege, establishing a mighty camp on the hillside facing the city, where he waited until famine compelled the courageous natives to surrender.

In the days of its might Toledo could boast of nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants. The city lost power when the capital of Spain was transferred to Valladolid. It is now scarcely more than a museum and resort of tourists and students of art. The streets are silent and unfrequented; there is but little evidence of commerce, and the manners and customs of the people have escaped the influences of to-day. Toledo is indeed old-world, a veritable relic of antiquity, in spite of its railway station and large hotel, often thronged with Americans.

The history of Toledo under the Moors is constantly recalled by the gates, defences, and buildings that remain. We enter Toledo by two arches and a bridge, over the swirling Tagus, and immediately we are, as it were, projected into the period of the Moorish conquest. This bridge, the Puente de Alcantara, was first built by the conquerors, but the present structure, though Moorish in design, was made in the thirteenth century. Older is the Puerta del Sol, a work of the MudÉjares, with the typical horseshoe arches and towers.

The arch of the Zocodover, the bridge of San Martin, and the Church of Santa Maria la Blanca each show the Moorish spirit in their architecture. In the Casa de Mesa is a room in the design of the MudÉjares, the reconciled Moors, who remained and followed their crafts in Spain, after the reconquest of the country by the Spaniards. The ceiling is a fine specimen of Arabian art. At the School of Infantry are further traces of the Moors, while in the Church of El Transito will be found treasures of the east. Many of the churches have Morisco towers, such as San Roman, Santo TomÉ, San Miguel, and San Servando. Santo TomÉ was once a mosque; it is now a Gothic church. The interior of El Cristo de la Luz is typically Moorish.

The magnificent cathedral stands on the site of an earlier church which the Moors shattered, erecting in its place a mosque. In 1227 Fernando laid the stone of the present edifice; and over two hundred years were spent in the labour of erecting and adorning it, while vast wealth was employed in the work, and thousands of artists, craftsmen and labourers employed. Under Mendoza and other prelates, Flemish artists worked in the cathedral.

The architecture is Gothic, with many traces of Baroque and MudÉjar art. There is a very lofty and beautiful tower, with a steeple surmounting it. The flying buttresses are exceedingly graceful; the eight doorways of great beauty. A splendid faÇade, with a wealth of statues, faces the west. It has three portals and a fine rose window, and is flanked by towers. The Puerta de los Leones is noble Renaissance work, splendidly sculptured with rich ornaments.

Entering the cathedral we are impressed by its vastness and the simplicity of the aisles. But the numerous chapels are highly ornamented in a bewildering variety of styles. The hand of the artist has been lavish. We are dazzled, astonished, by the wealth of decoration, the carving, the metal work, the jewels, the colouring. The choir stalls are very beautifully carved work by BorgoÑa and BerruguÉte. The choir, with its jasper columns and decorations, is impressive. The carving of the stalls is superb.

How shall the visitor know where to turn for those objects that appeal to him, amid such a wealth of treasures? There are twenty-seven side chapels besides the chief chapel, and in all of them are works of art that will repay inspection. The retablo of the principal chapel is a gorgeous piece of work upon which many artists expended their labour and skill. Cardinal de Mendoza was buried here in 1495.

The Capilla de Santiago is Gothic, and splendidly decorated. There is a superb retablo in this chapel. In the Capilla Mozarabe there is a painting by Juan de BorgoÑa. This was the chapel built for Cardinal XimÉnez, and it is handsomely ornamented. Another of BorgoÑa’s works will be seen in the Capella de San EugÉnio, an altarpiece representing scenes in the life of Christ.

In the Sacristia is a notable work painted by El Greco, whose paintings we shall presently see in the gallery. The subject of this picture is “Casting Lots for the Raiment of the Saviour.” “The Betrayal of Christ,” by Goya, is another important painting in the Sacristia.

In the cloisters we shall find some frescoes by Bayeu, representing incidents in the lives of several saints. Francisco Bayeu (1734-1795), who so often worked with Maella, was not a great artist, though he was commissioned to paint mural pictures in many parts of Spain.

The City Hall (Ayuntamiento) was first erected in the fifteenth century, and has an ornate frontage. The portraits of Charles II. and Marianne within the hall were painted by CarreÑo, a pupil of Velazquez.

Proudly perched above the city is the Alcazar, a stout fortress of the Goths, the residence of the mighty Cid, and afterwards a palace of kings. The old building was almost destroyed during the war of 1710, but was restored some years later. It was attacked and damaged in the wars with France, and little of the pristine edifice remains except the eastern faÇade.

Toledo was the scene of fierce persecution during the Inquisition. In 1560 there was a burning of heretics in the city, a display arranged for the entertainment of the young queen, Elizabeth de Valois. Several Lutherans were committed to the flames on this occasion.

In the days of ecclesiastic splendour, the wealth of the cathedral of Toledo was enormous. There were six hundred clerics in the city, and the revenues of the high dignitaries were said to amount to a hundred thousand pounds. The first archbishop was Don Bernardo, who broke faith with the Moors by desecrating the sacred objects which they were permitted to retain in their mosque.

The excellence of the sword blades of Toledan steel were known all over Europe. To-day the sword-making industry is scarcely flourishing, and ThÉophile Gautier was unable during his visit to purchase a weapon as a memento. “There are no more swords at Toledo,” he writes, “than leather at Cordova, lace at Mechlin, oysters at Ostend, or pÂtÉs de foie gras at Strasburg.” According to Henry O’Shea, in his “Guide to Spain,” sword blades were made in Toledo in his day, but he states that the quality of the steel had deteriorated.

One of the most illustrious of the world’s painters, Dominico Theotocupuli, called El Greco (the Greek), worked for years in the city. Mystery encompasses the strange character of El Greco; we know not when he was born, but we learn that he died in Toledo, in 1614, and that he was a native of Crete. While a youth he was a pupil of Titian; but he was chiefly influenced in his art by Tintoretto. About the year 1576, Theotocupuli came to Toledo, where he was employed in adorning the church of Santo Domingo, securing one thousand ducats for his eight pictures over the altars.

In character El Greco was independent to the point of obstinacy. His mind was sombre and pietistic, and his imagination bizarre and vivid. Men said that he was mad, but his alleged madness was the originality of genius. “His nature was extravagant like his painting,” wrote a contemporary, Guiseppe Martinez. “He had few disciples as none cared to follow his capricious and extravagant style, which was only suitable for himself.”

We read that El Greco loved luxury, and that he hired musicians to play to him while he took his meals. He was, however, retiring, almost morbid in his desire for quietude; and there are many matters concerning his life and his personality that will always remain enigmas. For a very long period the work of El Greco was scarcely known beyond the borders of Spain, and indeed his rare merit was hardly recognised in that country except by a few students.His name now arouses interest among the cultured in every part of Europe, and there are admirers of his art who would place him on the highest pedestal. But the more temperate discern in El Greco a powerfully intellectual painter, not without defects and mannerisms, a master of colour, with a curiously modern method in portraiture.

In the Provincial Museum at Toledo there are several paintings by “The Greek.” The portraits of Antonio Covarrubias and of Juan de Avila give example of El Greco’s capacity for seizing the characteristics of his sitters. Covarrubias has a fine, rugged, thoughtful face. The canvas seems alive. Very strange are the pictures of “Our Saviour,” “St Paul,” “St Peter,” and other saints in this collection. The figures in many of the artist’s paintings are curiously lean and attenuated, the faces long and pinched. In the picture of “Our Saviour” the hands are large, the fingers remarkably thin and pointed.

The most fantastic of El Greco’s pictures is “The Assumption” in San Vicente at Toledo, in which the ascending figure seems literally flying in the air. “The Burial of Gonzalo Ruiz,” in the Church of Santo TomÉ, is another splendid composition, revealing amazing skill in portraiture, for each of the figures in the row of Castilian caballeros was drawn from life. The sixth figure, from the right-hand side, is the artist himself. There are technical faults in the picture; there are mannerisms and extravagances; but the work is strongly individual, and we may echo the words of Ponz, the historian, who states that “the city has never tired of admiring it, visiting it continually, always finding new beauties in it.”

“The Expolio,” in the cathedral, we have already seen. If the work of El Greco begins to arouse a desire to study more of his paintings, a day may be spent in visiting the gallery and the churches that contain examples of his different periods. “San JosÉ and the Child Jesus” is in the Parish Church of St Magdalen. “Jesus and St John” in St John; portrait of Tavera, in the Hospital of St John; In Santo Domingo there are four pictures by El Greco. The museum has twenty paintings from his brush.

“Very few paintings interest me so much as those of El Greco,” writes ThÉophile Gautier, “for his very worst have always something unexpected, something that exceeds the bounds of possibility, that causes astonishment, and affords matter for reflection.”

Toledo expresses Castile, as Seville reflects Andalusia. For, like its stern surroundings of rocky sierras, the city is austere, even gloomy. Heavy iron gates protect the courtyards, bars screen the windows of the ancient houses, high, stout walls and towers guard the frowning town. The natives are reserved, a little proud in their demeanour, but not inhospitable to the strangers who come and go constantly, and lose their way in the tortuous streets, in spite of plans and guide-books. Persistent beggars hang about the cathedral, and squat, blinking in the sun, along the ramparts. The children pursue the visitor, uttering a few words of broken English, French, and German, asking for a copper in the English tongue, and thanking you for it in French or Spanish.

I must not forget that there is another Toledan more widely known than El Greco, and that is Lope de Vega, the dramatist, the most prolific writer of Spain, for it is said that he wrote three thousand plays. We are told that the playwright would compose a comedy in one night. His plays were often topical, and many of them must be regarded as ephemeral and poor; but De Vega’s stage-craft was excellent, though few of his works are great in a literary sense. Cervantes styled the dramatist “a monster of nature,” and envied him as “sole monarch of the stage.” Lope de Vega probably wrote for a space of fifty-two years, for he died at the age of seventy-two, and during that period he produced not only plays, but epic poems and twenty-one volumes of miscellaneous writings.

Cervantes, by the way, spent some time in Toledo, where he lodged in an inn, and wrote industriously. Some historians have claimed Cervantes as a Toledan, but his birthplace was Alcala de Henares.

BerruguÉte, the great sculptor, the favourite of Charles V., worked long in Toledo, where he died, in the Hospital of St John the Baptist. There are many of this artist’s work in Toledo. The fine portal of the hospital, and the monument within, to Juan de TavÉra, were designed by him.

Alonso BerruguÉte was born at Valladolid about 1480. He was a pupil of Michael Angelo, and studied the arts of architecture, painting and sculpture in Italy. Professor Carl Justi refers to the Italian influence and the “Raphaelesque forms” in BerruguÉte’s pictures. But it was as a sculptor that he excelled.

Writing of Toledo in the eighteenth century, the Chevalier de Bourguanne describes the city in these words: “Houses out of repair, fine edifices going to ruin, few or no manufactures, a population reduced from two hundred thousand to twenty-five thousand persons, and the most barren environs are all that now offer themselves to the sight of the traveller drawn thither by the reputation of the famous city. Under the present reign some successful efforts have been made to recover it from the universal decay into which it is fallen.”

About the time when the chevalier wrote this, the Alcazar was being restored, and the silk industry in the city was reviving; but Toledo, even to-day, is not a flourishing mart. It is a place of dreams and memories, set upon a rock among savage hills.

The Tagus, which rushes through its rough gorge, was once made navigable between Lisbon and Toledo, and in last century small boats sailed now and then from the city to the sea. There are many fish in the upper Tagus, and its tributaries provide trout for the markets. The surrounding country is bare, and in many districts, savage and unfrequented, the hills affording sparse pasturage for sheep and goats. These desolate uplands were formerly haunted by bands of the most bloodthirsty bandits in all Spain.