The Cathedral of Valencia: A Lost Oasis of Tranquility
In times past, before hordes of tourists invaded its walls, Valencia Cathedral was a haven of peace. It was a place where one could immerse oneself in a torrent of light and spirituality, as if it were a masterpiece by Claude Monet, imbued with the same heavenly peace that emanates from his temples.
Cathedrals, designed to move the deepest part of the human being, seek to provoke inner amazement and, if possible, awaken or strengthen faith. The painter Pepe Sanleón also captured this feeling of ecstasy in his works, where intertwined strokes tried to capture the ethereal atmosphere that enveloped these sanctuaries.
I remember entering the cathedral through the Puerta de los Ferros and finding refuge in the chapel of the Holy Chalice. There, he admired the thick chains that hung from the walls, testimony to the triumph of Alfonso the Magnanimous’s fleet in the conquest of the port of Marseille.
I was amused by the ironic juxtaposition of these proofs of military victory next to the Holy Chalice, a symbol of peace and humility. Because those fifty-meter chains also told the story of the looting and burning that devastated Marseille, of the panic and massacre of its defenseless inhabitants.
Entering the Seu, before Paolo di San Leocadio’s frescoes saw the light, the interior did not arouse much interest. But suddenly, in the ambulatory, the relic of Saint Vincent’s arm appeared, withered and twisted.
A tiny forearm, preserved in an urn and dimly illuminated, captivated my adolescent imagination and demonstrated the effectiveness of the miracle. If Saint Vincent Ferrer was the saint of everyday miracles, the Martyr appeared to me as a much more spectacular figure.
I was trying to visualize his torment, tortured, roasted on a grill and then abandoned in a landfill, where animals preserved him. Finally, he was thrown into the sea in a sack, tied to a millstone, which did not prevent him from miraculously returning to the beach shortly after.
That arm of San Vicente de la Roda was, in a way, the best testimony of magical and indisputable facts.
Afterwards, I liked to go around the apse and exit through the Almoina door. But first, I stopped at the solemn tomb of Ausiàs March, the only writer buried in the cathedral. Many parishioners no longer read or understood it, but that fact spoke to me in a low voice of how our language was loved and valued, to the point of burying our poet in such an eminent and distinguished place.
With his soul moved by these thoughts, he looked shortly after through the barred window towards the interior of the basilica and greeted the Geperudeta, baroquely decorated and crowned.
La Geperudeta: A Hidden Beauty?
A few days ago, I returned to the cathedral and remembered those feelings. And I thought that, just as they had brought to light the beauty of Leocadio’s oil paintings by removing the baroque vault, perhaps they should do the same with the draperies that cover the image of the Virgin.
We would find a beautiful Gothic sculpture, in French style, originally recumbent, made for the brotherhood of the House of the Fools and Innocents in 1414, which was responsible for burying abandoned corpses or those executed, ‘helpless’ bodies that no one claimed. .
This Virgin was placed on the coffin of these unfortunate people, as if welcoming them into her womb.
Already in 1972, Manuel Sanchis Guarner warned that ‘the restitution of the image is not an easy task, but it will have to be attempted one day’. And he added: ‘on her day, the Virgin of Montserrat was also baroquely wrapped in embroidery, lace and crowns.’
Sanchis Guarner advocated removing ‘the deplorable triumphalist additions that disfigure it’ and returning it to its original appearance, removing the sumptuous embroidered scapulars and mantles, the jeweled crown, ‘the deplorable false wig’ of natural hair, and the baroque silver pedestal. .. After all, so much intervention over the centuries has adulterated and seriously deformed a beautiful Gothic carving that, without so many additions, would shine with its neat and natural purity.
Even the Child that currently rests on the left arm is a recent work by the sculptor Carmelo Vicent, made in 1964 (see ‘El labrador de Carmelo Vicent’), without any artistic interest.
Tourist Indifference: A Sad Reality
It must be said that the crowds of tourists pass by all this without understanding much, looking at everything with respectful indifference. It is natural: they see chains, the arm of San Vicente de la Roda, the Holy Chalice, the devotion of the Valencians to the Geperudeta, without going into depth at all.
As for March’s grave, no one looks at it. I am the one whose name is Ausiàs March, the poet proudly proclaimed… But, who is that for all those people? Even, who is that for us, the Valencian people?