Old Continental Towns

by Walter M. Gallichan

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.