Castilian Days | Page 9

long reign of savage faith and repression is broken at last, and that this
abused and suffering people is about to enter into its rightful
inheritance of modern freedom and progress.

SPANISH LIVING AND DYING
Nowhere is the sentiment of home stronger than in Spain. Strangers,
whose ideas of the Spanish character have been gained from romance
and comedy, are apt to note with some surprise the strength and
prevalence of the domestic affections. But a moment's reflection shows
us that nothing is more natural. It is the result of all their history. The
old Celtic population had scarcely any religion but that of the family.
The Goths brought in the pure Teutonic regard for woman and marriage.
The Moors were distinguished by the patriarchal structure of their
society. The Spaniards have thus learned the lesson of home in the
school of history and tradition. The intense feeling of individuality,
which so strongly marks the Spanish character, and which in the
political world is so fatal an element of strife and obstruction, favors
this peculiar domesticity. The Castilian is submissive to his king and
his priest, haughty and inflexible with his equals. But his own house is
a refuge from the contests of out of doors. The reflex of absolute
authority is here observed, it is true. The Spanish father is absolute king
and lord by his own hearthstone, but his sway is so mild and so readily
acquiesced in that it is hardly felt. The evils of tyranny are rarely seen
but by him who resists it, and the Spanish family seldom calls for the
harsh exercise of parental authority.
This is the rule. I do not mean to say there are no exceptions. The pride
and jealousy inherent in the race make family quarrels, when they do
arise, the bitterest and the fiercest in the world. In every grade of life
these vindictive feuds among kindred are seen from time to time. Twice
at least the steps of the throne have been splashed with royal blood
shed by a princely hand. Duels between noble cousins and stabbing
affrays between peasant brothers alike attest the unbending sense of

personal dignity that still infects this people.
A light word between husbands and wives sometimes goes unexplained,
and the rift between them widens through life. I know some houses
where the wife enters at one door and the husband at another; where if
they meet on the stairs, they do not salute each other. Under the same
roof they have lived for years and have not spoken. One word would
heal all discord, and that word will never be spoken by either. They
cannot be divorced,--the Church is inexorable. They will not incur the
scandal of a public separation. So they pass lives of lonely isolation in
adjoining apartments, both thinking rather better of each other and of
themselves for this devilish persistence.
An infraction of parental discipline is never forgiven. I knew a general
whose daughter fell in love with his adjutant, a clever and amiable
young officer. He had positively no objection to the suitor, but was
surprised that there should be any love-making in his house without his
previous suggestion. He refused his consent, and the young people
were married without it. The father and son-in-law went off on a
campaign, fought, and were wounded in the same battle. The general
was asked to recommend his son-in-law for promotion. "I have no
son-in-law!" "I mean your daughter's husband." "I have no daughter."
"I refer to Lieutenant Don Fulano de Tal. He is a good officer. He
distinguished himself greatly in the recent affair." "Ah! otra cosa!" said
the grim father-in-law. His hate could not overcome his sense of justice.
The youth got his promotion, but his general will not recognize him at
the club. It is in the middle and lower classes that the most perfect
pictures of the true Spanish family are to be found. The aristocracy is
more or less infected with the contagion of Continental manners and
morals. You will find there the usual proportion of wives who despise
their husbands, and men who neglect their wives, and children who do
not honor their parents. The smartness of American "pickles" has even
made its appearance among the little countesses of Madrid. A lady was
eating an ice one day, hungrily watched by the wide eyes of the infant
heiress of the house. As the latter saw the last hope vanishing before
the destroying spoon, she cried out, "Thou eatest all and givest me
none,--maldita sea tu alma!" (accursed be thy soul). This dreadful
imprecation was greeted with roars of laughter from admiring friends,
and the profane little innocent was smothered in kisses and cream.

Passing at noon by any of the squares or shady places of