“De cuatro ninfas, que del Tajo amado
Salieron juntas, acantar me ofresco.…”
Farther up the river are a few Arab arches of the palace of Galiana, a heroine of ancient romance. She was the daughter of King Alfahri, who gave her this rural retreat, and embellished it in every possible way. The young princess was of marvellous beauty, and generally lived here to escape from her numerous suitors, among whom was Bradamante, a gigantic Moorish prince from Guadalajara. This redoubtable wooer endeavored, but in vain, to soften her heart. He only served to keep his rivals in check. At length a foreign prince, none other than the mighty Charlemagne himself, came to aid her father in the war against the King of Cordova. He was at once captivated by the beauty of Galiana, and, as she showed herself by no means insensible to his advances, he soon ventured to ask her hand in marriage. To dispose of Prince Bradamante, he challenged him to a private combat, and struck off his head, which he offered to the bride-elect. This obstacle removed, the wedding soon took place, and Galiana was triumphantly carried to France. Some pretend Charlemagne never crossed the Ebro, but we have unlimited faith in the legend, on which numberless songs and romances are based, and sold to this day by blind men on the public squares of Toledo.
One of the attractions of Toledo is Santa Maria la Blanca, an ancient Jewish synagogue in the style of the mosque of Cordova, which, after many vicissitudes, has become
a Catholic church. The name is derived from the ancient legend of Our Lady ad nives—of the snow—which led to the foundation of Santa Maria Maggiore at Rome, and is evidently popular in Spain from the number of churches bearing the name. That at Toledo is very striking from the horse-shoe arches, one above the other, supported by octagon pillars with curiously-wrought capitals. There are lace-like wheels along the frieze of the nave, and the roof is of cedar—a tree sacred to the Jews, and which they say only came to perfection in the Garden of Eden. In their epitaphs we often read: “He is gone down to the Garden of Eden, to those who are amongst the cedars.”
The Transito is another old synagogue, which was erected in the days of Don Pedro the Cruel by Samuel Levi, his wealthy treasurer. The architects were probably Moors, for it is decorated in the style of the Alhambra. It consists only of one nave, but this is richly ornamented. Along the walls are Hebrew inscriptions, said to be in part from the Psalms, and partly in praise of Samuel Levi. His praises were not on the lips of the people, however. On the contrary, he was very obnoxious to them on account of his exorbitant taxes, and when put to the torture by Don Pedro, he was by no means regretted. The Jews were specially detested at Toledo. It is said they opened the city to the Moors, and subsequently to the Christians, and were faithful to neither party. When expelled in 1492, this building was given to the Knights of Calatrava.
The church of San Juan de los Reyes was built in 1476 by Ferdinand and Isabella in gratitude for a victory over the Portuguese. It is now a parish church, but was
first given to the Franciscans, whose long knotted cord is carved along the frieze. It is magnificently situated on a height overlooking the Tagus. An immense number of chains are suspended on the outer walls, taken from Christian captives in the dungeons of the Alhambra. These glorious trophies were brought from Granada in 1492, and cannot be regarded without emotion. It is said—but who can believe it?—that some of them were recently used by the authorities to enclose a public promenade, to save the expense of buying new ones—a most odious piece of economy, of which Samuel Levi himself would not have been guilty. The portal of this church is a beautiful example of the Plateresco style, exquisite as goldsmith’s work, with its fretted niches and sculptured shields. The building, though only intended for a conventual church, is of grand proportions and richly ornamented. The emblems of Ferdinand and Isabella, with other heraldic devices, are sculptured amid delicate foliage around the royal gallery, and over the high altar Cardinal Mendoza is painted at the foot of the cross.
The cloisters adjoining, of the florid Gothic style, are exquisitely beautiful. They are built around a pleasant court, which has a fountain in the centre, and a profusion of orange-trees and myrtles. The niches of the arcades are peopled with saints, and the columns and arches covered with an endless variety of acanthus leaves, lilies, bellflowers, ivy, holly, and even the humbler vegetables, carved with a skill that reminded us of Scott’s well-known lines:
“Thou wouldst have thought some fairy’s hand