and enlightened agriculture of the Moors; trade became a disgrace, and
the fallacious idea that bringing gold and silver into a country could
make it rich and prosperous ate like a canker into the industrial heart
of the people, and with absolute certainty threw them backward in the
race of civilisation.

Charles V. was the first evil genius of Spain; thinking far more of his
German and Italian possessions than of the country of his mother, poor
mad Juana, he exhausted the resources of Spain in his endless wars
outside the country, and inaugurated her actual decline at a moment
when, to the unthinking, she was at the height of her glory. The
influence of the powerful nobility of the country had been completely
broken by Isabella and Ferdinand, and the device of adopting the
Burgundian fashion of keeping at the Court an immense crowd of nobles in
so-called "waiting" on the Monarch flattered the national vanity, while
it ensured the absolute inefficacy of the class when it might have been
useful in stemming the baneful absolutism of such lunatics as Felipe II.
and the following Austrian monarchs, each becoming more and more effete
and more and more mad. The very doubtful "glory" of the reign of the
Catholic Kings in having driven out the Moors after eight centuries of
conflict and effort, proved, in fact, no advantage to the country; but
twenty thousand Christian captives were freed, and every reader of
history must, for the moment, sympathise with the people who effected
this freeing of their country from a foreign yoke.

Looking at the marvellous tracery of the church of San Juan de los Reyes
at Toledo, picked out by the actual chains broken off the miserable
Christian captives, and hanging there unrusted in the fine air and
sunshine of the country for over four hundred years, one's heart beats
in sympathy with the pride of the Spaniards in their Catholic Kings. But
Toledo, alas! is dead; the centre of light and learning is mouldering in
the very slough of ignorance, and Christianity compares badly enough
with the rule of Arab and Jew.

Nevertheless, it must be said that, had matters been left as Isabella
and Ferdinand left them, Spain might have benefited by the example of
her conquerors, as other countries have done, and as she herself did
during the Roman occupation. Philip II. was too wise to expel the
richest and most industrious of his subjects so long as they paid his
taxes and, at least, professed to be Christians. It was not until the
reign of Philip III. and his disgraceful favourite Lerma, himself the
most bigoted of Valencian "Christians," that, by the advice of Ribera,
the Archbishop of Valencia, these industrious, thrifty, and harmless
people were ruthlessly driven out. They had turned Valencia into a
prolific garden, - even to-day it is called the _huerta_, - their silk
manufactures were known and valued throughout the world; their industry
and frugality were, in fact, their worst crimes; they were able to draw
wealth from the sterile lands which "Christians" found wholly
unproductive. "Since it is impossible to kill them all," said Ribera,
the representative of Christ, he again and again urged on the King their
expulsion.

The nobles and landowners protested in vain. September 22, 1609, is one
of the blackest - perhaps, in fact, the blackest - of all days in the
disastrous annals of Spain. The Marqués de Caracena, Viceroy of
Valencia, issued the terrible edict of expulsion. Six of the oldest and
"most Christian" Moriscos in each community of a hundred souls were to
remain to teach their modes of cultivation and their industries, and
only three days were allowed for the carrying out of this most wicked
and suicidal law. In the following six months one hundred and fifty
thousand Moors were hounded out of the land which their ancestors had
possessed and enriched for centuries. Murcia, Andalucia, Aragon,
Cataluña, Castile, La Mancha, and Estremadura were next taken in hand.
In these latter provinces the cruel blunder was all the worse, since the
Moors had intermarried with the Iberian inhabitants, and had really
embraced the Christian religion, so called.

Half a million souls, according to Father Bleda, in his _Defensio
Fidei_, were thrust out, with every aggravation of cruelty and robbery.
No nation can commit crimes like this without suffering more than its
victims. Spain has never to this day recovered from the blow to her own
prosperity, to her commerce, her manufactures, and her civilisation
dealt by the narrow-minded and ignorant King, led by a despicable
favourite, and the fanatical bigot, Ribera. With the Moors went almost
all their arts and industries; immense tracts of country became arid
wastes: Castile and La Mancha barely raise crops every second year where
the Moriscos reaped their teeming harvest, and Estremadura from a
smiling garden became a waste where wandering flocks of sheep and pigs
now find a bare subsistence. Nor was this all. Science and learning were
also driven out with the Arab and Jew; Córdoba, like Toledo, vanished,
as the centre of intellectual life. In place of enlightened agriculture,
irrigation of the dry land, and the planting of trees, the peasant was
taught to take for his example San Isidro, the patron saint of the
labourer, who spent his days in prayer, and left his fields to plough
and sow themselves; the forests were cut down for fuel, until the
shadeless wastes became less and less productive, and the whole land on
the elevated plains, which the Moors had irrigated and planted, became
little better than a desert.

It was not only in the mother country that frightful acts of bigotry and
lust for wealth were enacted. In Peru the Spaniards found a splendid
civilisation among the strange races of the Incas, a condition of order
which many modern states might envy, a religion absolutely free from
fetish worship, and a standard of morality which has never been
surpassed. But they ruthlessly destroyed it all, desecrated the temples
where the sun was worshipped only as a visible representative of a God
"of whom nothing could be known save by His works," as their tenet ran,
and substituted the religion which they represented as having been
taught by Jesus of Nazareth; a religion which looked for its chief power
to the horrible Inquisition and its orgies called _Autos da fé!_

As regards the mysterious race of the Incas, who in comparison with the
native Indians were almost white, and who possessed a high cultivation,
it is curious to note that during the late troubles in China records
came to light in the Palace of Pekin showing that Chinese missionaries
landed on the coast subsequently known as Peru, in ages long antecedent
to the discovery of the country by the Spaniards, and established
temples and schools there. No one who reads the minute accounts of the
Incas from Garcilaso de la Vega - himself of the royal race on his
mother's side, his father having been one of the Spanish
adventurers - can avoid the conclusion that the religion of the Incas,
thus utterly destroyed by the Spaniards, was much more nearly that of
Christ than the debased worship introduced in its place. The whole story
of these "Children of the Sun," told by one of themselves afterwards in
Córdoba, where he is always careful to keep on the right side of the
Inquisition by pretending to be a "Christian after the manner of his
father," is fascinatingly interesting as well as instructive.

It is almost impossible to speak of the Spanish Inquisition and its
baneful influence on the people without seeming to be carried away by
prejudice or even bigotry, but it is equally impossible for the ordinary
student of history to read, even in the pages of the "orthodox," the
terrible repression of its iron hand on all that was advancing in the
nation; its writers, its singers, its men of science, wherever they
dared to raise their voices in ever so faint a cry, ground down to one
dead level of unthinking acquiescence, or driven forth from their native
land, without ceasing to wonder at all at Spain's decadence from the
moment she had handed herself over, bound hand and foot, to the Church.
Wondering, rather, at her enormous inherent vitality, which at last,
after so many centuries of spasmodic effort, has shaken off the incubus
and regained liberty, or for the first time established it in the realms
of religion, science, and general instruction.

It matters little or nothing whether the Inquisition, with its secret
spies, its closed doors, its mockery of justice, and its terrible
background of smouldering _Quemadero_, was the instrument of the Church
or of the King for the moment. Whether a religious or a political
tyranny, it was at all times opposed to the very essence of freedom, and
it was deliberately used, and would be again to-day if it were possible
to restore it, to keep the people in a gross state of ignorance and
superstition. That it was admirable as an organisation only shows it in
a more baneful light, since it was used to crush out all progress. Its
effect is well expressed in the old proverb: "Between the King and the
Inquisition we must not open our lips."

"I would rather think I had ascended from an ape," said Huxley, in his
celebrated answer to the Bishop of Oxford, "than that I had descended
from a man who used great gifts to darken reason." It has been the
object of the Inquisition to darken reason wherever it had the power,
and it left the mass of the Spanish people, great and generous as they
are by nature, for long a mere mob of inert animals, ready to amuse
themselves when their country was at its hour of greatest agony, debased
by the sight of wholesale and cruel murders carried out by the priests
of their religion in the name of Christ.

[Illustration: PEASANTS]

[Illustration: SEVILLE CIGARRERA]

Even to-day the Spaniard of the lower classes can scarcely understand
that he can have any part or parcel in the government of his country.
Long ages of misrule have made him hate all governments alike: he
imagines that all the evils he finds in the world of his own experience
are the work of whoever happens to be the ruler for the time being; that
it is possible for him to have any say in the matter never enters his
head, and he votes, if he votes at all, as he is ordered to vote. He has
been taught for ages past to believe whatever he has been told. His
reason has been "offered as a sacrifice to God," if indeed he is aware
that he possesses any.

The danger of the thorough awakening may be that which broke out so
wildly during Castelar's short and disastrous attempt at a republic:
that when once he breaks away from the binding power of his old
religion, he may have nothing better than atheism and anarchism to fall
back upon. The days of the absolute reign of ignorance and superstition
are over; but the people are deeply religious. Will the Church of Spain
adapt itself to the new state of things, or will it see its people drift
away from its pale altogether, as other nations have done? This is the
true clerical question which looms darkly before the Spain of to-day.

To return, however. The Austrian kings of Spain had brought her only
ruin. With the Bourbons it was hoped a better era had opened, but it was
only exchanging one form of misrule for another. The kings existed for
their own benefit and pleasure; the people existed to minister to them
and find funds for their extravagance. Each succeeding monarch was ruled
by some upstart favourite, until the climax was reached when Godoy, the
disgraceful Minister of Charles IV., and the open lover of his Queen,
sold the country to Napoleon. Then indeed awoke the great heart of the
nation, and Spain has the everlasting glory of having risen as one man
against the French despot, and, by the help of England, stopped his mad
career. Even then, under the base and contemptible Ferdinand VII., she
underwent the "Terror of 1824," the disastrous and unworthy regency of
Cristina, and the still worse rule of her daughter, Isabel II., before
she awoke politically as a nation, and, her innumerable parties forming
as one, drove out the Queen, with her _camarilla_ of priests and
bleeding nuns, and at last achieved her freedom.

For, whatever may be said of the last hundred years of Spain's history,
it has been an advance, a continuous struggle for life and liberty.
There had been fluctuating periods of progress. Charles III., a truly
wise and patriotic monarch, the first since Ferdinand and Isabella, made
extraordinary changes during his too short life. The population of the
country rose a million and a half in the twenty-seven years of his
reign, and the public revenue in like proportions under his enlightened
Minister, Florida Blanca. No phase of the public welfare was neglected:
savings banks, hospitals, asylums, free schools, rose up on all sides;
vagrancy and mendicancy were sternly repressed; while men of science and
skilled craftsmen were brought from foreign countries, and it seemed as
if Spain had fairly started on her upward course. But he died before his
time in 1788, and was followed by a son and grandson, who, with their
wives, ruled by base favourites, dragged the honour of Spain in the
dust. Still, the impulse had been given; there had been a break in the
long story of misrule and misery; Mendizábal and Espartero scarcely did
more than lighten the black canopy of cloud overhanging the country for
a time; but at last came freedom, halting somewhat, as must needs be,
but no longer to be repressed or driven back by the baneful influence
known as _palaciö_, intrigues arising in the immediate circle of the
Court.


CHAPTER II

TYPES AND TRAITS


It is the fashion to-day to minimise the influence of the Goths on the
national characteristics of the Spaniard. We are told by some modern
writers that their very existence is little more than a myth, and that
the name of their last King, Roderick, is all that is really known about
them. The castle of Wamba, or at least the hill on which it stood, is
still pointed out to the visitor in Toledo, perched high above the red
torrent of the rushing Tagus; but little seems to be certainly known of
this hardy Northern race which, for some three hundred years, occupied
the country after the Romans had withdrawn their protecting legions. On
the approach of the all-conquering Moor, many of the inhabitants of
Spain took refuge in the inaccessible mountains of the north, and were
the ancestors of that invincible people known in Spain as "los
Montañeses," from whom almost all that is best in literature, as well as
in business capacity, has sprung in later years.

How much of the Celt-Iberian, or original inhabitant of the Peninsula,
and how much of Gothic or of Teuton blood runs in the veins of the
people of the mountains, it is more than difficult now to determine. It
had been impossible, despite laws and penalties, to prevent the
intermingling of the races: all that we certainly know is that the
inhabitants of Galicia, Asturias, Viscaya, Navarro, and Aragon have
always exhibited the characteristics of a hardy, fighting, pushing race,
as distinguished from the Andaluces, the Valencianos, the Murcianos, and
people of Granada, in whom the languid blood of a Southern people and
the more marked trace of Arabic heritage are apparent.

The Catalans would appear, again, to be descendants of the old
Provençals, at one time settled on both sides of the Pyrenees, though
forming, at that time, part of Spain. Their language is almost pure
Provençal, and they differ, as history shows in a hundred ways, from the
inhabitants of the rest of Spain. The Castilians, occupying the centre
of the country, are what we know as "Spaniards," and may be taken to
hold a middle place among these widely differing nationalities, modified
by their contact with all. Their language is that of cultivated Spain.
No one dreams of asking if you speak Spanish; it is always: _Habla v
Castellano?_ And it is certainly a remnant of the old Roman, which, as
we know, its emperors spoke "with a difference," albeit there are many
traces of Arabic about it.

Even at the present day, when Spain is rapidly becoming homogeneous, the
people of the different provinces are almost as well known by their
trades as by their special characteristics. A _Gallego_ - really a native
of Galicia - means, in the common parlance, a porter, a water-carrier,
almost a beast of burden, and the Galicians are as well known for this
purpose in Portugal as in Spain, great numbers finding ready employment
in the former country, where manual labour is looked upon as impossible
for a native. The men of the lowest class emigrate to more favoured
provinces, since their own is too poor to support them; they work hard,
and return with their savings to their native hills. Their
fellow-countrymen consider them boorish in manners, uneducated, and of a
low class; but they are good-natured and docile, hard-working,
temperate, and honest. "In your life," wrote the Duke of Wellington,
"you never saw anything so bad as the Galicians; and yet they are the
finest body of men and the best movers I have ever seen." There is a
greater similarity between Galicia and Portugal than between the former
and any other province of Spain.

Although they lie so close together, Asturias differs widely from its
sister province both in the character of its people and its scenery. The
Romans took two hundred years to subdue it, and the Moors never obtained
a footing there. The Asturians are a hardy, independent race, proud of
giving the title to the heir-apparent of the Spanish throne. The people
of this province, like their neighbours the Basques, are handsome and
robust in appearance; they are always to be recognised in Madrid by
their fresh appearance and excellent physique. For the most part they
are to be found engaged in the fish trade, while their women, gorgeously
dressed in their native costume by their employers, are the nurses of
the upper classes.

[Illustration: VALENCIANOS]

The ladies of Madrid do not think it "good style" to bring up their own
children, and the Asturian wet nurse is as much a part of the ordinary
household as the coachman or _mayordomo_. They are singularly handsome,
well-grown women, and become great favourites in the houses of their
employers; but, like their menkind, they go back to spend their savings
among their beloved hills. Many of these young women come to Madrid on
the chance of finding situations, leaving their own babies behind to be
fed by hand, or Heaven knows how; they bring with them a young puppy to
act as substitute until the nurse-child is found, and may be seen in the
registry offices waiting to be hired, with their little canine
foster-children. It is said that the Asturian women never part from the
puppies that they have fed from their own breasts.

The Basque Provinces are, perhaps, the best known to English travellers,
since they generally enter Spain by that route, and those staying in the
south of France are fond of running across to have at least a look at
Spain, and to be able to say they have been there. The people pride
themselves on being "the oldest race in Europe," and are, no doubt, the
direct descendants of the original and unconquered inhabitants of the
Iberian Peninsula. In Guipuzcoa, the Basque may still be seen living in
his flat-roofed stone house, of which he is sure to be proprietor, using
a mattock in place of plough, and leading his oxen - for _bueyes_ are
never driven - attached to one of the heavy, solid-wheeled carts by an
elaborately carved yoke, covered with a sheepskin. He clings tenaciously
to his unintelligible language, and is quite certain that he is superior
to the whole human race.

The _fueros_, or special rights, already spoken of, for which the
Basques have fought so passionately for five hundred years, might
possibly have been theirs for some time longer if they had not unwisely
thrown in their lot with the Carlist Pretender. They practically formed
a republic within the monarchy; but in 1876, when the young Alfonso XII.
finally conquered the provinces, all differences between them and the
other parts of the kingdom were abolished, and they had to submit to the
abhorred conscription. With all the burning indignation which still
makes some of them say, "I am not a Spaniard; I am a Basque," the
extraordinary advance made in this part of Spain seems to show that the
hereditary energy and talent of the people are on the side of national
progress.

The distinctive dress of the Basques is now almost a thing of the past;
the bright kerchiefs of the women and the dark-blue cap (_bóina_) of the
men alone remain. The Viscayan _bóina_ has been lately introduced into
the French army as the headgear of the Chasseurs and some other
regiments.

"Aragon is not ours; we ought to conquer it!" Isabel la Católica is said
to have remarked to her husband; and, indeed, the history of this little
province is wonderfully interesting and amusing. It alone seems to have
had the good sense always to secure its rights before it would vote
supplies for the Austrian kings; whereas the other provinces usually
gave their money without any security, except the word of the King,
which was usually broken. Among the provisions of the _fueros_ of the
Aragonese was one that ran thus: _"Que siempre que el rey quebrantose
sus fueros, pudiessen eligir otro rey encora que sea pagano"_ (If ever
the King should infringe our _fueros_, we can elect another King, even
though he might be a pagan), and the preamble of the election ran thus:
"We, who are as good as you, and are more powerful than you (_podemos
mas que vos_) elect you King in order that you may protect our rights
and liberties, and also we elect one between us and you (_el justicia_),
who has more power than you: _y si no, no!_" which may be taken to mean,
"otherwise you are not our King."

Somewhat of this spirit still abides in the Aragonese. The costume is
one of the most picturesque in Spain. The men wear short black velvet
breeches, open at the knees and slashed at the sides, adorned with rows
of buttons, and showing white drawers underneath; _alpargatas_, or the
plaited hempen sandals, which, with the stockings, are black; a black
velvet jacket, with slashed and button-trimmed sleeves, and the
gaily-coloured _faja_, or silk sash, worn over an elaborate shirt.

In the old days, when one entered Spain by diligence from Bayonne to
Pampeluna over the Pyrenees, one learned something of the beauty of the
scenery and the healthy, hardy characteristics of the people, as one
whirled along through the chestnut groves, over the leaping streams,
always at full gallop, up hill and down dale, with a precipice on one
side of the road and the overhanging mountains on the other. Below lay a
fertile country with comfortable little homesteads and villages
clustering round their church, and the like dotted the hillsides and the
valleys wherever there seemed a foothold. As the diligence, with its
team of ten or twelve mules, dashed through these villages or past the
isolated farms, the people stood at their doors and shouted; it was
evidently the event of the day. The mules were changed every hour, or
rather more, according to the road, and as the ascent became steeper
more were added to their number; sometimes six or eight starting from
Bayonne where twelve or fourteen were needed for the top of the Pass. At
least half the journey was always made at night, and if there were a
moon the scenery became magically beautiful; but, in any case, the
stars, in that clear atmosphere, made it almost as bright as day, while
a ruddy light streamed from the lamp over the driver's seat, far above
the coupé, along the string of hurrying mules, as they dashed round
precipitous corners, dangerous enough in broad daylight. If one of the
animals chanced to fall, it was dragged by its companions to the bottom
of the gorge, where it would get up, shake itself, and prepare to tear
up the next ascent as if nothing had happened.

A good idea could be formed of these hardy mountaineers in passing
through their village homes. They are tall and good-looking, and seem to
be simply overflowing with animal spirits. If it chanced to be on a
Sunday afternoon, the priest, with his _sotana_ tucked up round his
waist, would be found playing the national game of _pelota_ with his
flock, using the blank wall of the church as a court.

One is apt to forget that Old Castile is one of the provinces having a
northern seaboard. The inhabitants of this borderland are, to judge by