Valencia and Murcia, a glance at African Spain

by Albert Frederick Calvert

The exuberant natural life pictured in these passages is not altogether due to the bounty of nature. The scorching sun would have brought death instead of life to Valencia without the co-operation of man. The whole province is a triumph of irrigation. The Moors were masters of hydraulic science. They tapped the Jucar and the Guadalaviar and drew their waters through the Moncada and seven smaller but magnificent canals into every corner of the land. This was the legacy they left behind when they were so suicidally expelled. Their successors, as Mr. Richard Ford so eloquently puts it, exercise “a magic control over water, wielding it at their bidding”—presumably as Gilbert’s hero Ferdinando brandished the turtle soup!

Bequeathed also directly by the Moors, the Tribunal of the Waters is the most interesting sight of Valencia. It is independent of all law; no Government has ever touched it; it has no written records. The court meets every Thursday morning at eleven o’clock at the Apostles’ Gate of the Cathedral in the capital, to try all cases and disputes in regard to the precious water that is the life-blood of the province. There are seven judges, one for each canal, elected by the peasantry of the districts, and each is known by the name of his canal—Mislata, Cuarte, and so forth. They are grave, stoutly-built men, with tanned faces and close-cropped hair. They wear black, the colour beloved by the comfortably situated working man all the world over; but they have not degenerated quite so far as to discard the native handkerchief round their polished brows, or the espadrilla, the Valencian shoe.

Except that the turban has given place to the sombrero and the divan to an ancient sofa, the proceedings of the tribunal are as patriarchal as of old. In the plaza a crowd of litigants are collected, chattering, gesticulating, arguing their wrongs according to the manner of their kind all the world over. With an air of importance befitting the occasion the Alguazil of the tribunal places the magisterial bench in the shadow of the great Gothic portal. A light rail will keep the vulgar at a distance. Then the peasant magistrates take their seats, and the oldest pronounces the words, “Se abri el tribunal” (The tribunal is open). A portentous silence falls, for any one who speaks before his turn must pay a fine. One by one the litigants are introduced within the railing and plead their cause bareheaded before the court. Woe to the insolent wight that dare stand covered in its presence. The Alguazil will tear the handkerchief from off his head, and he will also be mulcted in a fine. Each must await the tapping of the presidential foot before he ventures into the presence. But the severity of the discipline does not suffice to make the fiery Valencians restrain their feelings. At every moment there is an explosion of wrath or indignation, a heated expostulation from one or other of the parties. The fines collected must be a considerable sum. Out of their own wisdom the judges give their decisions, which are almost invariably received without discontent. The Valencians are anxious to preserve their unique tribunal from criticism and interference, for they know that in Spain, as in other countries, royal justice is a costly matter.

The history of Valencia for all practical purposes is that of its capital and namesake. “Its name,” says Mr. Ford, “is fondly derived from, or considered equivalent to, Roman, because Ρὡμη in Greek signifies power, as Valencia does in Latin.” The principle is doubtless excellent, but seems to be that of lucus a non lucendo.

When the warriors of Viriathus surrendered to Rome on the death of their chief, Valencia was granted to them by the Consul D. Junius Brutus. Destroyed by Pompey, it became a colonia when rebuilt and the capital of the Edetani. But the history of few Roman colonies, as it has reached us, is of interest. The province had the usual martyrs under the persecution of Diocletian and Decius, and was the place of banishment of the zealot Ermengild. Proud of its haughty name, Valencia has yet allowed itself to be taken and retaken oftener than any other city in the world. In 413 it yielded to the Goths, and three hundred years later with great nonchalance transferred its allegiance to the Moor. It formed at one time part of the Khalifate; and again, one or more petty kingdoms in itself.

Don Feodoro Lleorente speaks of “the slave kings” of Valencia. It is certain that many of its rulers were slave adventurers from the palace of the Khalifa, who, like the janizaries of Turkey had literally carved their fortunes with their swords. One of these princes added the Balearic Isles to his realms and unsuccessfully attempted the conquest of Sardinia.

The kingdom thus founded by military adventurers was overthrown by the most famous of that warlike brood.

The Moors had made the desert blossom like the rose. Wealth and prosperity had been secured to the province. The Moslem paradise was located here. Medinat-u-Tarab was its capital—the City of Mirth. The greedy eyes of Christian neighbours were inevitably drawn to such a region, and the break-up of the Ummeyah dynasty offered an excellent opportunity for interference.

Valencia was split up into factions, and the King or Amir Kadir was merely the puppet of the two opposing parties, who alternately supported him on his tottering throne. But the Moors were a proud race and felt themselves dishonoured in yielding homage to so weak a ruler. Headed by Ibn Jahhaf, the people rose in revolt. Kadir fled, but was detected under his woman’s disguise, was taken and beheaded. That strange anomaly a Mohammedan republic was formed. A council of the leaders was constituted with Ibn Jahhaf as President.

A people which arrogates the right to choose its ruler has ever been considered a sort of pirate among the nations, and fair game for more powerful States. Kadir, at the time of his deposition, had been under the hardly disinterested protection of the Cid, who, under pretence of avenging his protégé’s death, immediately advanced on Valencia. For some time Ibn Jahhaf, who seems to have had some of the qualities of a great general, amused the Campeador with negotiations, while he pushed hastily forward preparations for defence. Discovering that he was being played with, the Cid swept through the country and threw his army round Valencia, which for twenty months made a stubborn resistance. The city falling at length, Jahhaf, who had become a special object of hatred to the Conqueror, was burnt alive in the plaza. Until his death in 1097, the Cid ruled the kingdom as absolute lord and despot. The legend runs that Ximena, his wife, defended the city for two years after her husband’s death. And so great was the reputation and the terror of the Campeador that she finally won a victory over the Mussulmans and carried him to his last resting-place at Cardeña by the stratagem of placing his corpse fully armed upon his war-horse with his celebrated sword in his hand.