Yet Toledo flourished, and her citizens were never more in their element than in the spring of the year 1212, when their town became the rallying-point and base of the great crusading army, destined to achieve the crowning mercy of the Navas de Tolosa. The dominant personality of that time was the Archbishop Rodrigo Jimenez de Rada. A writer of history, a valiant soldier, a sagacious statesman, princely in his magnificence, and angelic in his charity, he was a tower of strength in Spain, and especially for Toledo, in the dreadful years of famine and brigandage that followed the victory over the Moor. His name will be for ever remembered as practically the founder of the great cathedral which is the city’s crowning glory and title to fame.
The century of floods, earthquakes, and eclipses passed away, and found Toledo a hotbed of civil strife and internecine discord. As in Italian cities at the same time, rival families and factions fought in the streets, turned their houses into fortresses, and set the civic authorities at defiance. The hidalgos of Toledo would hurry home from warring with the infidel to plunge their swords into the bosoms of their fellow townsmen. Laras and Castros waged pitched battles for the possession of the capital of Castile. At last the royal power asserted itself, and with terrible effect. We read that “the King Ferdinand came to Toledo, and hanged many men and boiled others alive in cauldrons. Era MCCLXII. (1224).” This boiler of his fellow men is known as Saint Ferdinand. His father, Alfonso IX. of Leon, is also mentioned as having broiled his rebellious subjects, and flayed others alive. But such performances are not considered by a certain class of writers even now to argue any real depravity of character.
The sainted king’s severity on another occasion is more creditable to him. On his entry into the town, two young women threw themselves at his feet and implored vengeance on their betrayer, Fernandez Gonzalo—the Alcalde himself. The high rank of the offender did not save him from instant decapitation, and his head was within an hour gazing down on the scene of his amours from the Puerta del Sol. Whether the betrayed damsels or any one else were benefited by these drastic measures, the panegyrists of the righteous king forgot to tell us.
Still it was an age when strong measures were called for; and recognising this, the citizens themselves instituted the famous Santa Hermandad or Holy Brotherhood for the maintenance of public order and suppression of brigandage. The organisation received the royal sanction, and was endowed with many privileges. It supplied the place of a regular police force for all Castile for at least three centuries, and readers will remember the frequent references to it in the pages of “Don Quixote.”
Toledo had not yet become a capital in the sense of being the permanent residence of the sovereign. Saint Ferdinand and his immediate predecessors and successors were essentially soldiers. Their Court was the camp, and in the unremitting war of reconquest it was necessarily transferred from place to place, from one confine of the ever-expanding kingdom to the other. When at Toledo the king resided at the Alcazar—which in Moorish days had been a fortress constructed of tapia (a species of concrete), and which was fortified with masonry by Alfonso VI. The building was enlarged and embellished, and made more suitable for a royal residence by Sancho el Bravo (1284-1295). But the state of affairs in what may be termed the Epoch of the Reconquest (1085-1252), was obviously not favourable to the development of the building arts. Toledo possesses few memorials of these days, for such edifices as may have been founded at or before that time have undergone such transformations as to render them practically the products of later ages. Such supplies and energies as were not absorbed by the all-important business of war were naturally diverted to the building of the cathedral, which was not, as we shall see, completed for another two centuries.
Mediæval history concerns itself almost exclusively with kings and princes, battles and treaties. Of the life of the people in Spain, as elsewhere, we hear very little. From stray references in the records we glean the information that the streets of Toledo were filthy and unpaved, and frequently encumbered with the carcases of beasts. Over the gates the heads of malefactors were ever rotting, poisoning the already vitiated air. We have concise details, too, of no particular interest, as to the municipal constitution of the city. Beyond this meagre information, we know something of the history of Toledo only so far as it was also the history of Spain.
Pedro I., the Cruel (1350-1368), had no liking for the gloomy, turbulent town, and during his reign Seville might have been called the seat of government. However much he may have endeared himself to the Andalusians, the ferocious king was no favourite with the Toledans. When the ill-used queen, Blanche of Bourbon, escaped from her prison in the Alcazar and claimed the right of sanctuary in the cathedral, the city rose in her behalf, and a thousand native blades sprung from their scabbards to protect her. An alliance was concluded with Talavera and Cuenca, and the gates opened to Don Enrique of Trastamara, the king’s half-brother. It is said that Pedro’s faction held the bridge of San Martin, expecting the rebel prince to enter that way, while his supporters introduced his troops into the town by the opposite bridge of Alcantara. The Trastamara partisans attacked the Jewish quarter, the Israelites being especial favourites of Don Pedro, and a frightful massacre ensued. Soon the king’s party gained the upper hand, and the unfortunate Blanche was removed from the city, wherein she had found such staunch friends, to the castle of Sigüenza.
This is not the first time we read of a massacre of Jews at Toledo. Yet the town was for many centuries one of the strongholds of Jewry in Europe, and a centre of Hebrew culture and activity. The story of the Jews of Toledo is, in fact, one of the most interesting chapters in the history of the city and of Spain.
Jews were settled in the Peninsula at a remote period. The author of “The Moorish Empire in Europe” (S. P. Scott) thinks their arrival in that country “antedated the Christian Era by at least a thousand years.” As we know, legend actually ascribes the foundation of Toledo to the race. This may, we think, be due to a confusion of the Israelites with Phœnician settlers. At the time of Christ, the Jews of Spain were very numerous and opulent. Another legend tells how their chief men addressed a letter to the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem, protesting against the Crucifixion. A document—altogether spurious, it need hardly be said—has been produced in support of this story. After the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, there seems to have been a large influx of Hebrew refugees into Spain. So long as the Visigoths remained Arians, they remained tolerant; but Reccared, soon after his conversion to Catholicism, levelled the severest enactments against the Israelites. He set a bad precedent. With Sisebut began the long era of persecution. His harsh edicts, forcing the Jews to choose between baptism and banishment, are still to be found in the Fuero Juzgo. Swinthila, Kindila, Recceswinth, Erwig, and Egica followed the same policy. Among the tyrannical enactments of this time is the grotesque command that the Jews of Toledo should eat pork! Under these circumstances it is not to be wondered that the Spanish Jews beheld with dawning hope the successful progress of the Mohammedans in Northern Africa. A secret intelligence was established with these Semitic conquerors of a newer faith, and thanks to the constant intercourse between the Jews of Africa and those of Spain, Musa and Tarik were fully supplied with the most minute particulars of the Visigothic State.
The period of the Khalifate was the Golden Age of Spanish Jewry. The numbers of the race, depleted by persecution, were increased by the advent of upwards of twelve thousand Yemenite Jews, invited by the Moorish conquerors. Never since the days of Solomon had the Children of Israel known such peace and prosperity. Possessed already of a remarkably high degree of culture, they communicated their knowledge to the Arabs, who showed themselves generous patrons and protectors. Nor were the new rulers of Spain slow to perceive the advantages to be derived from the subject race’s commercial enterprise and talent for affairs. Though the versatility of the Jew at this time was one of his most remarkable characteristics, it was above all as a physician that he was esteemed by Muslims and Christians alike. In this capacity he became the indispensable and most trusted companion of sovereigns and prelates, and penetrated into the very arcana of power. From Court physician to Minister the transition in those days of personal government was easy, and we find Hasdai ben Isaac Ibn Shaprut occupying both positions under Abd-ur-Rahman I.