The Real Spirit of Spain—The Spiritual Instinct of the Race—The
Escorial—Spanish Beggars—The Spaniard belongs to the Past, but also to
the Future.
What is the real spirit of Spain? We are now in a better position to
attempt an answer. The word which I should use to represent the main
impression made upon me by the character of the average Spaniard, the
soldier, the bull-fighter, the priest, the gentleman, the peasant, is
individualism; and it seems to me that this attitude explains Spain’s
greatness in the past, and also her position to-day. A love of
independence, a kind of passionate egotism, and a clannish preference for
small social groups, has always distinguished this race. To his friends,
even when they have injured him, the Spaniard is invariably indulgent;
but those who are outside his circle he regards with indifference, which
quickly rises to enmity.
Spain has always been the country of great personalities. Her brilliant
achievements in every department of life—in warfare, in travel, in
politics, in literature, and in the arts—have ever been the result of
individual, and not of collective, genius. Velazquez is the world’s
greatest painter; Cervantes, the world’s greatest story-teller. The
Spanish spirit, with its wide-ranging energy for dramatic enterprise and
its passion for personal freedom, has filled Spain in the past with
martyrs and heroes.
The Spaniard has two devotions: his observance of the traditions of his
race, and his religion. The ceremonies of life, which he never forgets
to practise, are so real in his hands that they become quite simple and
natural. He may commit a crime sooner than forget to behave gracefully.
Every Spaniard, be he beggar, peasant, or prince, acts in the tradition
of his race, by which every man is equal and a gentleman.
There is an inscription on the staircase of the Ayuntamiento (Town Hall)
of Toledo which is worth quoting as an instance of the Spanish attitude
to duty: “Noble and judicious men who govern Toledo, leave your passions
on this staircase—leave there love, fear, and desire of gain. For the
public benefit forget every private interest, and serve God; He has made
you the pillars of this august place, be firm and upright.”
[Picture: Town and Monastery of the Escorial]
Religion is the great devotion of the Spaniard: it is much more than an
attendance upon forms; it is a profound sentiment, which in him is the
spirit of acceptance. In the sphere of devotion this people know no
limit to self-sacrifice. It is not without significance that Ferrer, the
greatest of later-day martyrs, was a Spaniard. The spiritual instinct is
the deepest instinct of the race. In the faces of many peasants, and in
some of the dwellers in the towns, I have seen often the making of
martyrs and fanatics. The gloom, so helpful to the emotion of worship,
which pervades all Spanish churches is one instance of how truly they
comprehend the needs of the devotional spirit. The ecstatic attitudes
which may be noted almost everywhere in the worshippers in the churches
is quite unlike anything that will be seen in other countries—in Italy,
for example, or in France. And religion is so real a thing, so truly a
part of life, that immediately after this absorbed prayer they will talk
and laugh together.
But if you would understand the spiritual instinct which so remarkably
unites the life of this world with the after-life—the instinct which is
really at the root of the true nature of the Spaniard—there is one
building that the stranger must not fail to visit: it is the Escorial,
the Royal Temple to Death. The spirit of the Escorial is in one aspect
the spirit of Spain. There is nothing in the country more impressive
than this mighty Palace of the Dead. It was built, as all the world
knows, by Philip II., the richest and most powerful of Kings, in
fulfilment of a vow made on the day of the Battle of St. Quentin. We see
the suite of small dark rooms which he prepared for himself, wherein he
might make ready for death. And how Spanish are these barely furnished
rooms set in the midst of a palace—this withdrawal from all the things of
this world to prepare for the life of the next world!
[Picture: Puerta Judiciana, or Gate of Justice]
It is in the Pantheon of the Escorial that the Spanish Kings are buried.
The great outer doors of the palace are never opened except when the
Sovereigns come for the first time to the Escorial, and when their bodies
are brought there to the vault which awaits them. The Pantheon is a
small octagon; it is lined with polished marbles, which are crumbling
away with a strange decomposition. The sarcophagi, all exactly alike,
are placed in niches that cover all the wall space; almost every niche is
occupied, but a few empty ones await the living. An altar with a
crucifix of black marble upon a pedestal of porphyry stands opposite the
doorway. The chamber is very cold, and is penetrated only by a few rays
of half-extinguished light.
To-day tourists flock to the Escorial: English, American, French—a
strange procession! They seem curiously out of place; their expressions
of admiration are grotesque in their incongruity. There is a deathly
solemnity about this mighty palace that has something ferocious, almost,
in its suggestion. Yes, to see this immense building, with its simple
structure which corresponds so perfectly with the emotion of the place,
set in such splendid isolation amidst the grey and sombre mountains of
Old Castile, where it seems but a part of the desolate landscape, is to
realize that insistence on death and acceptance of pain which is so real
a part of the Spanish spirit—the shadow which, in spite of all her joyous
life, haunts this romantic and fascinating land. And the sensitive
stranger will feel again that he understands the cruelty that has
surprised him sometimes in the character of her people.
It was from the Moors that the Spaniards inherited their readiness to
sacrifice themselves for a cause, and this genius for sacrifice has made
them heroes, martyrs, and conspirators; it has given them their strength,
and also their weakness. This people can resign themselves to anything,
and resignation can just as easily be heroism or mere apathy. The heroic
side of this power gave Spain the greatness of her past history; the
other side, the resignation that is apathy, may be seen everywhere in
Spain to-day. One instance is the beggars who follow you in the streets
of every town, with their incessant cry for alms. There is terrible
poverty in Spain, of which these hordes of beggars are but a too genuine
sign.
[Picture: Municipal plaza and south façade of the famous old
cathedral-seat of the Primate of Spain, Toledo]
Begging is a profession of which no one is ashamed. And what impressed
me most was that only rarely did the beggar appear unhappy. They all
seemed to find their own enjoyment in that open-air life in the sun which
is the happiness of Spain. I recall one beggar who always sat at the
door of the Cathedral of Leon. He was very old. The cloak in which he
was wrapped was so worn and threadbare that one wondered how the rags
held together. He never appeared to move; through each day he kept the
same position. His face was a mass of wrinkles which showed strongly
from the ingrained dirt. There was a patient humour in his eyes, which
were still bright. His face reminded me of Velazquez’ picture. He
seemed quite content when I refused his cry for alms, so that I gave the
answer that Spanish courtesy demands, “Perdone usted, por el amor de
Dios!” (Excuse me, brother, for the love of God!). He hardly troubled to
hold out his hand. It was warm where he sat in the sunshine; a shadow
from the sculptured figures of saints and angels, which ornamented the
portal, fell on him pleasantly. Someone will give to him some day; he
was quite content. He was a man of Spain.
Spain has something from of old, which the younger countries of the
world, with all their headlong progress, have as yet only begun to gain.
That something is tradition. It is interesting to note for one’s self
the signs of this tradition in the daily life of the people—in their fine
understanding of the art of living, in their unfailing courtesy, in their
kindness in all personal relationships. I have never known a people with
so little thought of themselves or care for personal gain. The greatest
gift of their inheritance is a splendid capacity for sacrifice. And if,
as must be acknowledged, this quality has led them often into evil,
nevertheless it will, with awakened knowledge, gain their redemption.
[Picture: The valley of the Guadalevín River, Ronda]
In England, and even more in America—the newest as Spain is one of the
oldest of civilizations—business is the only respectable pursuit,
including under business literature and the arts, which in these
countries are departments of business. In Spain this is not so; there
are other aims and other traditions, havens of refuge from the prevalent
commercialism.
The duty of expending great labour to gain the little good of money is
not as yet understood by the Spaniards. They have always been, and still
are, a people who stand definitely for art and the beauty of life—men and
women whose spiritual instinct enables them to open windows to the stars,
and through these windows, in passing, the stranger sometimes looks.
[Picture: Flamenco dance of a Gitana, Seville]
Literature and art in Spain rest on a long tradition which has not only
produced pictures, carvings, splendid buildings, and books, but has left
its mark on the language, the manners, the ideas, and the habits of the
people. And even though in every art the technical tradition has been
interrupted, there remains the tradition of feeling. Spain is one of the
few uncommercial countries where the artist and the author are still
esteemed as worthy and profitable members of the community. Spanish
paper money bears the portraits of men of letters and great painters.
Goya’s etchings are reproduced on the pictures used as stiffeners in the
packets of cigarettes.
It is this ever-present consciousness of a great tradition, which we may
call an understanding of “good manners,” meaning by this the art of
beautiful living, finding its expression as it does in the common life of
the people, that makes it true that, though the Spaniard belongs to the
Past, he belongs also to the Future. He has the qualities which younger
nations now are striving to gain.
Side by side with the new growth of material prosperity, which has been
so marked in the country in recent years, there is to-day a corresponding
movement of spiritual reawakening. When education spreads among the
people, when the over-scrupulous submission to authority, which has given
power to the officialism of Church and State, shall have found new
channels of duty, we shall cease to hear dismal prophecies of Spain’s
downfall. By the splendid spiritual qualities of her people Spain will
be saved. She will be born again before many years have passed.
INDEX
_Al toro_, the game of, 149
Alcázar, the, 113
Algeciras, 13
Alhambra, the, 103
Andalusian, the typical, 115
“Angel’s hair,” 139
Architecture, 205
Architecture in Toledo, 99
Art, 204
Art galleries, 150
_Banderilleros_, the, 50
Basques, the, 168
Beggars, 68, 242
_Boina_, the, 164
_Bolero_, the, 36
_Bota_, or leather bottle, 18
Bull-fight, the, 43
Burgos Cathedral, 206
Business v. Art, 249
_Cabaña_ a, 170
_Cafés cantantes_, 36
Cafés in Madrid, 138
_Calientes_, 125
Carvings, 206
_Casetas_, 72
Children, Spanish, 145
_Chulos_, the, 50
_Cigarreras_, 46, 177
Climate of Madrid, the, 139
Conservatism of Spain, 14
_Consumos_, or Customs officers, 18
Cordova, 105
Court of Oranges at Cordova, 106
Cruelty in the Spanish nature, 60
Dancing, 35
Democracy in Spain, 19
Diligences, 193
Dress, 25
_Dulsaina_, the, 163
El Greco, 98, 217
Escorial, the, 237
_Espada_, the, 53
_Fábrica de Tabacos_, 176
Family life, 72
Fans, 140
_Feria_, the, 72
Fishing, 198
_Flamenco_ dance of the Gitanas, 39
Food, indifferent, 198
Friendliness, 188
Frogs as a delicacy, 197
Fruit-growing, 172
Ganivet on Moorish influence, 29
Gardens, 30
_Generalife_ of Granada, the 33
_Gente flamenca_, 46
Giralda Tower, the, 113
Gitana women, 74
Gitanas, the, or gipsies, 36, 163
Goya, 218
Granada, the gardens of, 33, 103
Hair, elaborately dressed, 25
Hospitality of the Spaniards, 125
Households, Spanish, 123
Houses, construction of, 25
Indifference to pain, 63
Irun, 13
Jan Van Eyck, 213
_Jarro_, the, 172
_Jota_, the, 39
_Kermesse_, the, 178
Kindliness of the Spanish nature 68
Madrid, 130
_Majos_, 115, 140
Manaña, 59
Maria de Gaucin, torero, 45
Market, a, 164
Montanés, the sculptor, 83
Moorish influence, 25
Moors in Spain, the, 26
Mosque at Cordova, 106
_Muleta_, the, 53
Museo del Prado, 150
Museums, 150
Ox-waggons, 167
Pain, the Spaniard’s indifference to, 64
Painting, 213
_Pascua de Resurrección_, the, 181
_Paseo de la Cuadrilla_, the, 49
_Pasos_, the, 80, 182
_Patio_, the, 25, 120
Peasants, Spanish, 164
Physical traits, 24
_Picador_, the, 50
Plaza de Toros, the, 46
Port Bou 13
_Posada_, the, 18, 153
Prado, the, 139
Puerta del Sol, the 138
Railway trains, 184
Rastro of Madrid, the, 134
_Reja_, the, or grating, 120
Religion and dancing, 78
Religious processions, 83
Romance, Spain the home of, 14
_Sainete_, or “curtain-raiser,” 144
Santa Maria, Cathedral of, 87
Seguidilla, the, 73
_Seises_, the, 79
Semana Santa, the, 80
_Serenos_, or night watchmen, 17
Seville, 36, 46, 80
Spanish character, the, 20
Stendhal on the Spanish people, 14
_Suerte de Banderillear_, the, 50
_Suerte de Matar_, 53
_Suerte de Picar_, the, 50
Teatro Real at Madrid, 144
_Tertulias_, or parties, 124
Theatre in Spain, the, 145
Thrift and sobriety, 175
Toledo, 93
Toreros, the, 45
_Toro de gracia_, 54
Tower of Gold, the, 113
Unpunctuality, 187
_Vacada_, the, 45
Velazquez, 151
_Ventas_, 77
Wild animals, 194
Wine-making, 172
Women, fascination of Spanish, 119
Women, Spanish, 24
Women workers, 175
_Zeguán_, the, 26
Zurbaran, 225
* * * * *
* * * * *
BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.
Footnote
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