The accession of Alfonso VII. el Batallador brought brighter days to his capital, but it was assailed during the twelfth century with a succession of calamities that might have broken down the patience of Job. The year 1113 was marked by an earthquake and disastrous overflowing of the Tagus; 1116, by a fire on a large scale; in 1117, the price of wheat rose, to fourteen soldos the bushel; in 1168, the Tagus was again in flood; again in 1181 and 1200; between 1187 and 1200, all the grocery stores were burnt (how or why, we are not told), the Tagus was frozen over in 1191, and there was a famine the following year. Eclipses of the sun were of the commonest occurrence: we hear of them in 1114, 1162, 1177, 1191, and 1207. We can easily imagine the Mohammedan denizens shaking their heads and ascribing these phenomena, especially the last, to the change of government, and extolling the good old times of Al Mamûn when earth, river, and sun kept their places and behaved according to rule. 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.