The 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 moment of his deposition had been nominally under the protection of the Cid. That redoubtable warrior, under the pretext of avenging his protege's death, advanced on Valencia.

The Almoravides came to his a.s.sistance, but precipitately retired.

Distrusting these allies almost as much as the Christians, Ibn Jahhaf amused the Cid with negotiations, but meanwhile made preparations for defence. He became the special object of the famous warrior's hatred, and when the city fell, was burnt to death at the stake before the eyes of his horrified countrymen. The Cid now ruled Valencia as absolute lord and despot till his death, five years later, in 1097. The legend need not be related here, how his wife defended the city for two years after his death, and finally, setting his corpse fully armed upon his warhorse, won a victory over the terrified Moors and thus took him to his last resting-place at Cardena.

Valencia was not finally wrested from the yoke of Islam till the memorable 28th of September, 1238, when the standard of the victorious Jaime I. of Aragon was hoisted over the tower of Ali Bufat. In the history of Aragon the conquest ranks with the taking of Seville in the history of Castile. Granada was the joint conquest of both kingdoms. It is curious to compare the ready submission of the Moors, and their surrender of whole kingdoms to the Christians, sometimes as the result of a single battle, 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 guerrilla 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 sentiment 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 realize 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 Saguntum for parallels to Saragossa and Gerona. National and individual self-respect withered under feudalism, and revived only on the introduction of free inst.i.tutions.

Valencia to-day, as befits the capital of a rich, prosperous province, is a handsome, modern progressive city. There is little or nothing about to remind one of its erstwhile masters, the Moors, and it has not retained more monuments of its past than most other cities. Interesting it is not from the sightseer's point of view, nor convenient from a stranger's, since indications of the names of the streets are few and far between. New avenues are being formed, and in these magnificent houses are arising, all happily in different styles, original and individual, forming a contrast to the dull uniformity of most Continental town perspectives. At two points the town is entered by ma.s.sive gates of the castellated type--the Torres de Serranos and de Cuarte. The former date from the fourteenth century, and have two octagonal towers with heavy machicolations at two-thirds of their height; the machicolation is continued across the connecting storey, which is richly panelled above the narrow archway. The Torres de Cuarte are drum towers, similarly flanking a gateway; in this case the parapet is itself borne on corbels and machicolated. The work dates from the fifteenth century. These towers add much to the picturesqueness of their respective quarters. The Citadel, in another part of the town, replaces the old temple built in 1238 by the Knights Templars on the spot where the Aragonese planted their cross on entering Valencia. It contains the chapel where St. Vicente Ferrer, "the Angel of the Judgment," took the habit of St. Dominic.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MALAGA--A PICADOR]

A glance at the Cathedral and the Lonja, and we shall have "done"

Valencia in the tourist's sense. The former building was founded in the year 1262 on the site of the princ.i.p.al mosque. In it the Kings of Aragon took the oath as Kings of Valencia. Repeatedly restored, and "modernized" in 1750, it presents a dreadful jumble of styles, and is far behind the cathedrals of Andalusia in beauty and interest. The Micalet Tower, however, rising at the end of the Calle de Zaragoza, presents a striking appearance. It is the great landmark of the district, and the Valencians refer to exile as "losing sight of the Micalet." The view from the summit is very fine. The main entrance to the Cathedral is poor, but the north door, called the Puerta de los Apostoles, richly sculptured and delicately moulded, exhibits the skill and imagery of the fourteenth century at its best.

Above the interesting semicircular Puerta del Palau are seen on medallions the heads of seven men and seven women--these representing the seven knights of the Conquest and the seven ladies (some say of Valencia, and others of Lerida) whom they married. From these alliances sprang the n.o.bility of the province. This doorway was evidently constructed by the architect who designed the Puerta dels Infants at Lerida.

The interior has also suffered by restoration. The pointed arches have been rounded, the Gothic columns almost concealed by Corinthian pilasters, the walls covered with marbles. The effect is rich ("La Rica"

is the surname which particularly distinguishes this Cathedral), but much of the religious antique air of the place has gone for ever. The plan is, as usual with Spanish churches, cruciform. The chancel was reconstructed in 1682, but the altar was melted down by the French in 1809. Fortunately the fine panel-shutters made for its protection in the sixteenth century have been preserved. They were carved by a carpenter named Carles, and are painted with scenes from the lives of Christ and the Virgin. These works are ascribed by some to Francisco Pagano and Pablo de San Leocadio, by others to Leonardo da Vinci himself. Hanging to one of the pillars on the Gospel side may be seen the spurs and bridle of Jaime lo Conqueridor, presented by him, on the day he took the city, to his master of the horse, Juan de Perthusa.

Over the crossing rises the fine octagonal lantern, built in 1404 and restored in 1731. The trophies which once adorned it have long since been carried off, among them the flags taken from the Genoese by Ramon Corveran, a famous sea-dog of Valencia.

The pulpit, over which is displayed a picture of St. Vicente Ferrer, was the one from which that zealous missionary actually preached. It can, however, hardly be regarded as a curiosity, as the saint must have preached in nearly every church in the Peninsula, France, and Flanders.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VALENCIA--SANTA CATALINA]

The choir is modern, except the rear portion or "trascoro," which dates from the end of the fifteenth century; and the chapels contain little that is of interest. Tomas de Villanueva, the holy Archbishop of Valencia, is entombed in the chapel dedicated to him. The chapel of another Valencian saint, St. Francis Borgia, is remarkable for a curious picture representing his conversion of a dying man. The penitent is depicted almost nude, and attended by comically fantastic monsters.

Another painting shows the saint, as Duke of Gandia, taking leave of his relatives when about to embrace the religious state.

Leaving the Cathedral, we visit the n.o.ble Gothic Lonja, or Silk Exchange, built between the years 1482 and 1498 by Pedro Compte. Though not in the purest style, the result is imposing and dignified. A French writer (M. Paul Jousset), not addicted to laudatory language, admits that this building is worth a visit to Valencia to see. Its square tower, its crenellated chimneys, open galleries, and high windows, recall the palace-like chateaux of the Loire. Within is a n.o.ble hall divided into three by rows of spirally-fluted columns. The roof is studded with stars, and round the frieze runs the inscription: "He only that shall not have deceived nor done usury, shall be worthy of eternal life." For the commercial integrity of Valencia it is to be hoped that the business men frequenting this exchange keep their eyes fixed on the text. Another public building worthy of attention is the Audiencia, in good Renaissance style, with grand halls adorned by portraits of eminent natives of the province. In the Salon de Cortes, the old provincial States a.s.sembled till the middle of the eighteenth century.

The minor churches of Valencia are hardly worth a visit--the less so that in this climate the stranger is generally well content to "laze"

his time away. He may do this very pleasantly on the Paseo de la Glorieta or Plaza Principe Alfonso, two charming shady spots, where numerous trees are reflected in the waters of the cool basins. Further off, across the parched Turia, you reach the Alameda, a leafy avenue where fountains diffuse a refreshing dew. And if you should chance to doze on one of the benches, you need not fear interruption. This charming promenade, for some occult reason, is neglected by the citizens.

The picture gallery of Valencia is important. It contains fine specimens of contemporary Spanish art, including works by Sorolla and Benlliure.

Ribalta may be studied here, and also the less-known masters of the Valencian school, such as Orrente, March, Espinosa, and Juanes. There used to be several fine private collections in Valencia, but these have all been dispersed.

The country round Valencia is far more interesting than the city. In no other part of Spain, says Mr. Brunhes, has man more successfully combated and reduced natural aridity by irrigation and cultivation; so successfully indeed, that from Gandia to Valencia, for instance, a stretch of 100 kilometres, the gardens succeed each other so closely that it is easy to forget--in spite of the naked slopes on the horizon--that these oases occupy a naturally arid soil. This is, in short, the best cultivated province in the kingdom.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN ANDALUSIAN DANCE]

The numberless ca.n.a.ls and watercourses which intersect the land in all directions are fed for the most part by the Jucar and Turia--the latter the local stream of Valencia--but every possible source is turned to account. Here the water supply, comprised in the Ca.n.a.l of Moncada and the Seven Ca.n.a.ls, belongs to the community, by whom is indirectly elected the famous tribunal which meets every Thursday morning at the Apostles' Gate of the Cathedral.

The sittings of this singular court are the most interesting sight in Valencia. In the plaza a crowd of countryfolk are collected, furiously discussing their affairs and pleading their cases in advance, after the manner of litigants all the world over. Meanwhile the alguazil of the tribunal has disposed an ancient sofa in the shadow of the great Gothic portal and marked off a s.p.a.ce before it with a railing. Presently the seven judges arrive--one for each ca.n.a.l. They have the air of well-to-do peasants, and such 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 discarded the native handkerchief round their polished brows or the _espadrilla_, or Valencian shoe. Each is known by the name of the ca.n.a.l which he represents--Mislata, Cuarte, and so forth. These peasant-magistrates having taken their seats, the oldest p.r.o.nounces the words "Se obri el tribunal" (The tribunal is open). For a moment absolute silence reigns. Then those who have the right to be heard first are introduced within the railing and plead their cause bare-headed before the court. Woe to the insolent wight that dare stand covered in its presence! The alguazil will tear the handkerchief off his head, and he will be mulcted, moreover, in a fine. Anyone who speaks before his turn is fined. The discipline is severe. Each must wait till the president indicates with his foot that it is his turn to be heard.

Notwithstanding, the fiery Valencians find it hard to restrain their feelings. At every moment there is an explosion of wrath or indignation, a heated expostulation from one or the other of the parties. The fines thus acc.u.mulated must represent a considerable sum. The procedure is entirely verbal; even the judgments are not recorded. But no court exercises more absolute power than the Tribunal de las Aguas of Valencia.

Life in the fertile huerta of Valencia is beautifully described by the great novelist, Blasco Ibanez, a native of the city. The following roughly translated pa.s.sages, though they convey little idea of the forceful and elegant style of the original, will at least enable the reader to picture a summer in the South:

"When the vast plain awakes in the bluish light of dawn, the last of the nightingales that have sang through the night breaks off abruptly in his final trill, as though he had been stricken by the steely shaft of day.

Sparrows in whole coveys burst forth from the thatched roofs, and beneath this aerial rabble preening their wings, the trees shake and nod.

"One by one the murmurs of the night subside--the trickling of watercourses, the sighing of the reeds, the barking of the watchful dogs. Other sounds belonging to the day grow louder and fill the huerta.

The crow of the c.o.c.k is heard from every farm; the village bells re-echo the call to prayer borne across from the towers of Valencia, which are yet misty in the distance; from the farmyards arises a discordant animal concert--the neighing of horses, the bellowing of oxen, the clucking of hens, the bleating of lambs, the grunting of swine--the sounds produced by beasts that scent the keen odour of vegetation in the morning breeze and are hungry for the fields.

"The sky is suffused with light, and with light, life inundates the plain and penetrates to the interior of human and animal abodes. Doors open creaking. In the porches white figures appear, their hands clasped behind their necks, scanning the horizon. From the stables issue towards the city, milch cows, flocks of goats, manure carts. Bells tinkle between the dwarf trees bordering the high road, and every now and again is heard the sharp '_Arre, Aca!_' of the drivers.

"On the thresholds of the cottages those bound for the town exchange greetings with those that stay in the fields: '_Bon dia nos done Deu!_'

(May G.o.d give us a good day!) '_Bon dia._'

"Immense is the energy, the explosion of life, at midsummer, the best season of the year, the time of harvest and abundance. s.p.a.ce throbs with light and heat. The African sun rains torrents of fire on the land already cracked and wrinkled by its burning caresses, and its golden beams pierce the dense foliage, beneath which are hidden the ca.n.a.ls and trenches to save them from the all-powerful vivifying heat.

"The branches of the trees are heavy with fruit. They bend beneath the weight of yellow grapes covered with glazed leaves. Like the pink cheeks of a child glow the apricots amid the verdure. Children greedily eye the luscious burden of the fig trees. From the gardens is wafted the scent of the jasmin, and the magnolias dispense their incense in the burning air laden with the perfume of the cereals.

"The gleaming scythe has already sheared the land, levelling the golden fields of wheat and the tall corn stalks, which bowed beneath their heavy load of life. The hay forms yellow hills which reflect the colour of the sun. The wheat is winnowed in a whirlwind of dust; in the naked fields among the stubble, sparrows hop from spot to spot in search of stray gleanings. Everywhere are happiness and joyous labour. Waggons go groaning down the road; children frolic in the fields and among the sheaves, thinking of the wheaten cakes in prospect and of the lazy, pleasant life which begins for the farmer when his barn is filled. Even the old horses stride along more gaily, cheered by the smell of the golden grain which will flow steadily into their mangers as the year rolls on.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COURTING]

"When the harvest has levelled the panorama and cleared the great stretches of wheat sprinkled with poppies, the plain seems vast, almost illimitable. Farther than the eye can reach stretch its great squares of red soil marked off by paths and trenches. The Sunday's rest is rigorously observed over the whole countryside. Not a man is seen toiling in the fields, not a beast at work on the road. Down the paths pa.s.s old women with their mantillas drawn over their eyes and their little chairs hanging to their arms. In the distance resound, like the tearing of linen, the shots fired at the swallows, which fly hither and thither in circles. A noise seems to be produced by their wings ruffling the crystal firmament. From the ca.n.a.ls rises the murmur of clouds of almost invisible flies. In a farm all painted blue under an ancient arbour there is a whirlwind of gaily coloured shawls and petticoats, while the guitars with their drowsy rhythm and the strident cornets accompany the measures of the Valencian Jota.

"In the village the little plaza is thronged with the field folk. The men are in their shirt sleeves, with black sashes and gorgeous handkerchiefs arranged mitre-like on their heads. The old men lean on their big Liria sticks. The young men, with sleeves turned up, display their red nervous arms and carry mere sprigs of ash between their huge knotted fingers.

"In the afternoon, towards the fountain, along the road bordered with poplars which shake their silvered foliage, go groups of girls with their pitchers on their heads. Their rhythmical movements and their grace recall the Athenian canephorae. This procession to the well lends to the huerta of Valencia something of a biblical character. The Fontana de la Reina is the pride of the huerta, condemned to drink the water of wells and the red and dirty liquid of the ca.n.a.ls. It is esteemed as an ancient and valuable work. It has a square basin with walls of reddish stone. The water is below the soil. You reach the bottom by means of six green and slippery steps. Opposite the steps is a defaced bas-relief, probably a Virgin attended by angels--no doubt an ex-voto of the time of the Conquest. Laughter and chatter are not wanting round the well. The girls cl.u.s.ter round, eager to fill their pitchers but in no hurry to depart. They jostle each other on the steps, their petticoats gathered in between their legs, the better to lean forward and to plunge their vessels into the basin. The surface of the water is unceasingly troubled by the bubbles rising from the sandy bed, which is covered with weeds waving in the current."