Valencia and Murcia, a glance at African Spain

by Albert Frederick Calvert

But for two centuries longer Valencia followed the law of the Prophet. It was finally wrested from the yoke of Islam on the memorable 28th of September 1238, when the standard of the victorious Jaime I. of Aragon was hoisted over the tower of Ali Bufat, and the Crescent bowed before the Cross. The conquest in the history of Aragon ranks with the taking of Seville in the history of Castile. Granada was the joint conquest of both kingdoms. The way in which the Moors in these old days surrendered their whole kingdom to the Christians, sometimes after only one battle had been fought, stands out in dark contrast with the tenacious resistance offered by their descendants in Algeria in modern times. Enervated by the climate of Spain the Mussulmans of that country were absolutely incapable of maintaining a prolonged guerilla warfare. If a fortified capital was taken they at once handed over the whole kingdom to the conqueror. They were not of course peculiar in this respect. The sentiments of nationality and physical courage are characteristic far more of the modern than of the ancient world. We have only to compare the resistance of the Anglo-Saxons to the Normans with that of the Boers to the British, of the French in the Hundred Years War with that of their descendants in 1871, to realise how much more of manliness and endurance we possess than did our ancestors. We must go back to the days of Leonidas and Regulus to find parallels for the exploits of our own Indian Army; to Numantia and Seguntum for parallels to Saragossa and Gerona. National and individual self-respect withered under feudalism, and revived only on the introduction of free institutions.

The commerce and wealth of the country now fell into the hands of the Jews, who came over in great numbers from Aragon. For a long time the industrious people lived, hated it is true, but unmolested, in their own quarter of the city. But one ill-fated day a band of children, urged on probably by some fanatic, marched against the Jewry crying that they had come to baptize the unbelieving dogs, and that the Archdeacon of Seville was close upon their heels. In terror the wretched people retreated to their homes, firmly barricading themselves. Some of the Christian children got shut up in the quarter. Like wildfire the rumour spread through the streets that the Jews were submitting them to untold tortures behind their barred doors. The whole populace went mad with the rage for blood, attacked the wholly unprepared Jews, and the most horrible scenes of massacre ensued. This was in 1391. The prosperity of Valencia suffered its first severe blow with the barbarous expulsion of the Moors at the command of Philip III. Another fell some time later when, on account of its strenuous opposition to the French claim to the Crown, Philip V. confiscated the liberties of the province and imposed an enormous fine.

But Valencia, though fallen from its old estate, is nevertheless to-day a thriving prosperous province; its capital is handsome and progressive. Busy life pulsates through the streets; the cafés are alive with the hum of voices. There is little to recall the days of its allegiance to the Prophet, and it has not retained more monuments of the past than most other cities. From the sightseer’s point of view it is not intensely interesting; from the stranger’s, even less convenient, since indications of the names of the streets are few and far between. New and splendid avenues are arising, which, in pleasant contrast to the dull uniformity of most Continental town perspectives, contain houses original and individual in style. You enter the town by one of two massive castellated gates, which give a note of the mediæval picturesque to their respective quarters. The fourteenth century Torres de Serranos form a narrow archway flanked by two fine octagonal towers. Above, are windows with elaborate panelling, and heavy machicolations crown the whole building. The Torres de Cuartes, of a century later, are very similar, but the parapet is itself borne on corbels and machicolated. Unfortunately the walls of the city have perished.

The Cathedral, the Lonja, and the Picture Gallery exhaust the sights of Valencia. The Cathedral was founded in 1262 on the ruins of the Great Mosque, which in its turn had replaced the Temple of Diana. It is far inferior to most of the great Spanish churches in beauty and interest. Originally Gothic, it was considerably enlarged in the fifteenth century, the height, however, being left unaltered. The principal entrance, in the receding circular form, is an outrage, but the north door, called the Puerta de los Apostoles, richly sculptured and delicately moulded, exhibits the skill and industry of the fourteenth century at its best.

Above the semicircular Puerta de Palau is an interesting series of medallions. These represent the heads of fourteen men and women. These are the seven knights of the Conquest and the seven fair ladies they sought in the surrounding provinces, from whom the whole Valencian nobility is said to be sprung. This doorway is evidently by the same hand as the Puerta de los Infantes at Lerida. But the most striking part of the Cathedral is the imposing Miguelete Tower. Its sculpture is indifferent, but seen from a distance the effect is fine. It is the great landmark of the district, and the Valencians speak of exile as “losing sight of the Miguelete.”

The plan of the Cathedral, like most Spanish churches, is cruciform. In 1760 the interior was modernised in a manner that makes the beauty-loving traveller long to tear his hair—or that of the perpetrator of the “restoration.” Over-decoration is its chief defect. The walls have been encrusted with marbles, the Gothic columns almost concealed by Corinthian pilasters, the pointed arches rounded off. The church may merit its surname of “La Rica,” but it has lost that atmosphere of remote beauty that calls forth the instincts of religion in the worshipper. During the French occupation of 1809 the magnificent silver altar was melted down, but fortunately its protecting door panels were uninjured. These are painted with six pictures by Francisco Pagano and Pablo de San Leocadio, disciples of Leonardo da Vinci, and ascribed by some to the master himself. The spurs and bridle of Jaime el Conqueridor, presented by him on the day he took the city to his Master of the Horse, are preserved on one of the pillars on the Gospel side.

The choir is for the most part modern, with plain and classical walnut stalls. The rear portion, or trascoro, dates from the fifteenth century, and is decorated with a fine series of Biblical scenes in alabaster. The chapels have little of interest, except the tomb of Tomás de Villanueva, the holy Archbishop of Valencia, in the one dedicated to him. Over the crossing rises the fine octagonal lantern, which was built in 1404 and restored in 1731. It was once adorned by many trophies, among them the flags taken from the Genoese by Ramon Corveran, a famous sea-dog of Valencia. These, however, have long since vanished.

After the Cathedral the Lonja de la Seda, or Silk Exchange, is the most interesting sight of Valencia. Built in the Gothic style (though not of the purest) it is one of the best specimens of civil architecture of the Middle Ages that we have remaining. Its square tower, crenellated chimneys, open galleries and high windows give an extremely fine effect. The hall has spirally fluted pillars that branch out into graceful clusters of palm-leaves. The ceiling is painted with stars and round the walls runs the legend, “He only that shall not have deceived nor done usury shall be worthy of eternal life,” which (let us hope) has guided generations of merchants into the paths of commercial integrity. The Audiencia, in good Renaissance style, is well worth a visit, where in the Salon de Cortes the old provincial States assembled till the middle of the eighteenth century. As a building the University is beautiful, if it is a little backward in thought. Here Fernando VII. raised the noble sport of Tauromachy, or Bull-fighting, to the dignity of a Faculty!

The smaller churches are interesting enough, but not striking, and the visitor will do well to prefer the almost deserted Picture Gallery. Until the name of Velasquez dwarfed that of every other Spanish artist, Valencia boasted a school of painting second to none in the country. Ribalta, Juanes, Ribera, Espinosa, and Orrente all lived and loved and painted in the old kingdom. The story of Ribalta is romantic. The son of a ploughman, he deemed himself on the high road to fortune when he entered a Valencian studio as a pupil. But alas! the black eyes and pretty figure of his master’s daughter proved more alluring than canvas virgins. Ribalta was dismissed the studio in disgrace. He wandered towards Italy, the land of promise, and studied under the brothers Carracci. Some years later he returned. His mistress was in possession of the studio, her father having gone out. A wooden and lifeless Madonna stood on an easel. Ribalta seized a brush and painted furiously until sunset, and when the artist returned a masterpiece was awaiting him. Astonishment, admiration, tears, and gratitude—no artist could forbid his daughter’s fiançailles with a man of genius. Ribalta afterwards devoted his whole life to the adornment of the churches of his native kingdom.

But Valencia is hardly less distinguished for its theatre than for its painting. Here at the end of the sixteenth century was founded the celebrated society of “Nocturnes” which welcomed the youth of Lope de Vega. Guillen de Castro was its head, a man of wit and honourable family, whose adventurous life ended in the gutter. He is best known as the author of Las Mocedades del Cid, a tedious drama with a fine heroic touch, whence Corneille drew his inspiration.