The Bible in Spain | Page 2

time I
felt more at home than I should otherwise have done.

In Spain I passed five years, which, if not the most eventful, were, I
have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my existence. Of
Spain, at the present time, now that the daydream has vanished, never,
alas! to return, I entertain the warmest admiration: she is the most
magnificent country in the world, probably the most fertile, and
certainly with the finest climate. Whether her children are worthy of
their mother, is another question, which I shall not attempt to answer;
but content myself with observing, that, amongst much that is
lamentable and reprehensible, I have found much that is noble and to be
admired; much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of
low vulgar vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the
Spanish nation, with which my mission lay; for it will be as well here
to observe, that I advance no claim to an intimate acquaintance with the
Spanish nobility, from whom I kept as remote as circumstances would
permit me; en revanche, however, I have had the honour to live on
familiar terms with the peasants, shepherds, and muleteers of Spain,
whose bread and bacalao I have eaten; who always treated me with
kindness and courtesy, and to whom I have not unfrequently been
indebted for shelter and protection.
"The generous bearing of Francisco Gonzales, and the high deeds of
Ruy Diaz the Cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the Sierra
Morena." {0}
I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof of
the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling character of
her population, than the fact that, at the present day, she is still a
powerful and unexhausted country, and her children still, to a certain
extent, a high-minded and great people. Yes, notwithstanding the
misrule of the brutal and sensual Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and,
above all, the spiritual tyranny of the court of Rome, Spain can still
maintain her own, fight her own combat, and Spaniards are not yet
fanatic slaves and crouching beggars. This is saying much, very much:
she has undergone far more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the
fate of Naples has not been hers. There is still valour in Astruria;
generosity in Aragon; probity in Old Castile; and the peasant women of
La Mancha can still afford to place a silver fork and a snowy napkin

beside the plate of their guest. Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and
Rome, there is still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples.
Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country. I know
something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever been;
Spain never changes. It is true that, for nearly two centuries, she was
the she-butcher, La Verduga, of malignant Rome; the chosen
instrument for carrying into effect the atrocious projects of that power;
yet fanaticism was not the spring which impelled her to the work of
butchery; another feeling, in her the predominant one, was worked
upon--her fatal pride. It was by humouring her pride that she was
induced to waste her precious blood and treasure in the Low Country
wars, to launch the Armada, and to many other equally insane actions.
Love of Rome had ever slight influence over her policy; but flattered
by the title of Gonfaloniera of the Vicar of Jesus, and eager to prove
herself not unworthy of the same, she shut her eyes and rushed upon
her own destruction with the cry of "Charge, Spain."
But the arms of Spain became powerless abroad, and she retired within
herself. She ceased to be the tool of the vengeance and cruelty of Rome.
She was not cast aside, however. No! though she could no longer wield
the sword with success against the Lutherans, she might still be turned
to some account. She had still gold and silver, and she was still the land
of the vine and olive. Ceasing to be the butcher, she became the banker
of Rome; and the poor Spaniards, who always esteem it a privilege to
pay another person's reckoning, were for a long time happy in being
permitted to minister to the grasping cupidity of Rome, who during the
last century, probably extracted from Spain more treasure than from all
the rest of Christendom.
But wars came into the land. Napoleon and his fierce Franks invaded
Spain; plunder and devastation ensued, the effects of which will
probably be felt for ages. Spain could no longer pay pence to Peter so
freely as of yore, and from that period she became contemptible in the
eyes of Rome, who has no respect for a nation, save so far as