Again the ancient forms conquered, the rival parchment having caught the flame and being drawn out in a blaze. The populace now commenced a cry of triumph; but, to their great disappointment, the King, in his quality of umpire, pronounced a judgment which he might as easily have put in execution before the trials: namely, that considering that the Roman Missal, although on fire, was not consumed, they were both equally agreeable to the deity—they should therefore both be preserved, and that some of the more ancient churches should continue the exercise of the Mozarabic service, while the Roman ritual should be established in the metropolitan temple, and in the greater number of the parishes.
Before we leave the cathedral, the cloister claims our attention. It is a spacious and handsome quadrangle, inclosing a garden. The eastern wall is adorned with excellent frescos of comparatively modern date, and all bearing the same signature—Francisco Bayeu. There are seven subjects on that side, being the number of intervals corresponding with the arcades, and three more continuing down another side. The best are two, taken from the history of Saint Casilda; and three from that of San Eugenio, first archbishop of Toledo, martyrised in France. The arcades on the east side are shut in by large pieces of sail-cloth, in order to protect the paintings against the sun's rays.
The library of manuscripts belonging to this cathedral is distinguished rather by the quality than the quantity of its contents. It is approached by a staircase communicating with the cloister, and is a handsome room. It contains a copy of the Talmud on the papyrus leaves, and in the Coptic dialect. The following are also among its treasures: The Book of Esther in Hebrew, on a single piece of parchment; two bibles of the seventh century, one of which belonged to St. Isidore; the missal used by Charles the Fifth in the monastery of Yuste; the poems of Dante, manuscript of the poet's time, with illustrations; the laws of Alonso the Tenth (surnamed the wise), and a volume of his poetical works, with the music opposite those intended to be sung: two ancient Chinese volumes, one on botany, the other on natural history, both illustrated.
The next edifice I visited was the Alcazar, the largest and most conspicuous building in Toledo. I expected to find there some Arab and Roman remains, having so read in more than one tour. It was not until some time after my visit that I obtained the information that the Moorish palace occupied a different site. The present comparatively modern building is principally of two epochs. On the east is the original portion erected by Alonzo the Sixth. The entire north and south fronts are probably additions of Philip the Second. The whole partakes of a divided character between castle and palace: it is not remarkable for any architectural merit, possessing neither beauty as a palace, nor solidity as a fortress; and having been occupied as a military position during the war of the succession, and more recently in that of independence, its being already a ruin, before its modern appearance would seem to legitimize such a state, causes no surprise. But its position is superb. Occupying the most elevated point of the town, it far exceeds the whole by the immense height of its walls, and commands an admirable view of the surrounding country. The only object deserving notice in this ruin is a colossal staircase, which occupies an entire side of the court,—a length of about two hundred and fifty feet,—and is ornamented by a light and elegant colonnade. This edifice ceased to be a palace on the final establishment of the court at Madrid, and after some time became the manufactory whence issued the famous silk and velvet brocades, the fabrication of which has now ceased, but with which Toledo formerly supplied the wardrobes of the court, and the well-garnished sacristies of Spain's wealthiest cathedrals.
Descending from the Alcazar through the Plaza de Zocodover, and thence towards the bridge of Alcantara, a few yards from the Plaza bring us in view of the façade of the Hospital of Santa Cruz, or "de los niños expositos,"—foundling hospital. The institution owes its origin to the Archbishop, Don Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, called the Great Cardinal of Spain. Although death prevented his witnessing the execution of his project, his fortune, administered by his next relatives and executors,—the Queen Isabella, and the Duke of Infantado,—was employed in the erection of the buildings, and in the endowment of the establishment. The plans and conditions were not even drawn up until after the Cardinal's death; and they were never entirely put in execution. The church consists of one nave, of a length out of all proportion to its width and elevation. It was to have been crossed by another of the same proportions, with the exception of the elevation, which was to have been eighty feet in both. This combined with the length—about three hundred and fifty feet, as is seen in the existing nave,—would have rendered the edifice one of the most extraordinary in existence. The altar was to have stood in the centre of the intersection of the two naves. As it is, the long bare interior looks as though it had been destined for a picture gallery or library, but rather for the latter from the low-coved roof of cedar, and from the inadequate distribution of light. To the left of the altar is seen a portrait of the founder; and on the opposite side, about a hundred feet further down the nave, a large Adoration,—a superior painting, especially with regard to the colouring: the author unknown.
There are two large courts surrounded by arcades: one of them is a model of lightness and beauty, and contains in one of its angles an admirably ornamented staircase. The architect of the Santa Cruz was Enrique Egas, who also built the celebrated hospital of the same name at Valladolid. He designed the whole according to the style then introduced, after the pointed style had been abandoned, and which in Spain received vulgarly the appellation of Plateresco, from the ornaments resembling the embossing of a silversmith. It is also confounded with the Renacimiento. The Plateresco style, from the too great liberty it afforded the architect, of setting aside the classic models, and following his own inventions, has produced in Spain, more than in any other country, (from there being at that period more wealth devoted to the construction of public monuments there than elsewhere,) the evil effects resulting from ill-guided and unrestrained powers of imagination. Fortunately, however, a few architects existed whose more correct taste kept them within some bounds; and who, in deserting the old models, replaced them by a style, if less pure, yet by no means inelegant. The architect Egas appears to have partaken of both natures at different moments; for, while his court above-mentioned is a specimen of consummate grace and good taste, the entrance front of the building is one of the bad examples of the style of the period.
The establishment covers a large space, about half the extent occupied by the double palace of the Arab kings of Toledo. The remainder of the site contains two convents,—that of Santiago, and that of the Conception. The hospital was conducted formerly on a scale proportionate to the extent of its accommodation; but it is now no more than a reminiscence; the revenues having probably been incorporated in the recent registrations of national property. The number of inmates at present enjoying the benefits of the foundation amounts to fourteen only.
The Convent of la Conception adjoins the hospital of Santa Cruz. From the exterior are seen two churches, placed in close parallel contact, and each composed of a single nave. Both are evidently very ancient, one being in the Arab style; but the form of the other renders it probable that it is the more ancient of the two. You are disappointed after being shown this last, on being informed that the Moorish portion is forbidden ground, being appropriated by the nuns to their private use, and possessing no communication with the adjoining edifice, but a curtained grating, through which its secluded inmates assist at religious services. In the public church, a singular ornament figures on a conspicuous part of the wall near the entrance; it is the carcass of a large crocodile, fixed high enough to be out of reach, although no one would be likely to purloin so unwieldy a curiosity. We are told the animal frequented the neighbourhood of Toledo; where, under cover of the pine forests, which formerly extended far over this mountainous region, its existence had long filled with terror the few travellers whom their mercantile pursuits compelled to pass within its accustomed haunts: that at length a knight (it was in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella) clothed in a full suit of armour, rode forth from Toledo, fully resolved to try conclusions with the monster, in order if possible to immortalize his name throughout the surrounding regions, by ridding them of so dire a scourge. The battle took place, and victory declaring for the knight, whose name unfortunately does not figure in the legend,—he assembled the peasants, and had his enemy's carcass borne in triumph to Toledo, where he made a present of it to the convent.
While on the subject of traditions, it is worth while adverting to a cavern, the entrance of which exists in this part of the town; and which is said to extend to a distance of eight miles, passing under the Tagus. It is related that somewhat less than a century back, the government ordered this cavern to be explored; but the exploring party was met at the commencement of the descent by so violent a gust of wind, as to extinguish all the torches, and the courage of the explorers, for the attempt was never resumed. The failure by no means contributed to diminish the mysterious qualities attributed to the cavern, on the subject of which the wildest notions are currently entertained.
A worthy and excellent native of Toledo, to whose antiquarian enthusiasm (a quality doubly valuable here from its scarcity) I am indebted for some information and much entertainment, undertook one day to enlighten me with regard to the origin of this subterranean curiosity. Commencing by warning my credulity against the innumerable fables current on the subject, and which only resembled each other in their absurdity and impossibility, he added, "The real fact is this,—the cavern is the work of Hercules, who excavated it for the accommodation of the assemblies of the people, whom he instructed in the elements of magic."