The Cathedral of Toledo, then, is Gothic, and may be said to embody the ideals of old Spain--of the young fighting nation that looked forward, not backward. Splendid as the Mosque seized by Archbishop Bernard and converted to Christian uses may have been, it was the work of the infidel. In 1227 King Ferdinand III. and the Archbishop Don Rodrigo de Rada were able at last to give effect to a determination arrived at some years before; and on August 14 the first stone of a new temple, which should never have been contaminated by Muslim rites, was laid with solemn ceremony. The name of the architect continues to be a matter of controversy. An epitaph in the sacristy of the Capilla de los Doctores affords some clue to his identity. It runs as follows: Agni: jacet: Petrus Petri: magister Eclesia: Scte: Marie: Toletani: fama: Per exemplum: pro more: huic: bona: Crescit: qui presens: templum: construxit Et hic quiescit: quod: quia: tan: mire: Fecit: vili: sentat: ire: ante: Dei: Vultum: pro: quo: nil: restat: multum: Et sibi: sis: merce: qui solus: cuncta: Coherce: obiit: x dias de Novembris: Era: de M: et CCCXXVIII (A.D. 1290). “Petrus Petri” is interpreted by Spanish writers “Pedro Perez,” but we incline to Mr. Street’s view that the correct rendering is probably Pierre le Pierre, the architect having been, as the name implies, a Frenchman. “This, at any rate,” continues Mr. Street, “is certain: the first architect of Toledo, whether he were French or Spanish, was thoroughly well acquainted with the best French churches, and could not otherwise have done what he did. In Spain, there was nothing to lead gradually to the full development of the Pointed style. We find, on the contrary, buildings, planned evidently by foreign hands, rising suddenly without any connection with other buildings in their own district, and yet with most obvious features of similarity to works in other countries erected just before them. Such is the case with the cathedrals at Burgos, at Leon, and at Santiago, and such even more decidedly is the case here. Moreover, in Toledo, if anywhere, was such a circumstance to be expected. In this part of Spain there was in the thirteenth century no trained school of native artists. Even after the conquest the Moors continued to act as architects for Christian buildings whether secular or ecclesiastical, and, indeed, to monopolise all the art and science of the country which they no longer ruled. In such a state of things I can imagine nothing more natural than that, though the Toledans may have been well content to employ Mohammedan art in their ordinary works, yet, when it came to be a question of rebuilding their cathedral on a scale vaster than anything which had as yet been attempted, they would be anxious to adopt some distinctly Christian form of art; and lacking entirely any school of their own, would be more likely to secure the services of a Frenchman than one of any other nation....