1786 and 1787,” 3 vols. London. 1792: “We must not imagine that the
Spaniards are naturally indolent; they are remarkable for activity,
capable of strenuous exertions and patient of fatigue.” Another
noteworthy judgment of the same author concerning the Spaniards is
that “Their ambition aims in everything at perfection, and by seeking
too much they often obtain too little.”
[26] “Non hi ha res al mon que vosaltres non faessetz exir de mesura.”
[27] “La letra con sangre entra,” is a sad proverb of the Spanish and
in the modern education of the printed page they are deficient.
[28] Cf. the sayings, _Poderoso caballero es don Dinero; Dadivas
quebrantan peñas; Dineros son calidad, etc._ Sancho goes to govern
the island of Barataria “with a very great desire to make money.” The
tendency is still to hoard, rather than invest, as did Don Bernard de
Castil Blazo in _Gil Blas_, keeping 50,000 ducats in a chest in his
house.
[29] Spaniards prefer to enjoy time as a gift sent by the gods,
than to waste it in trying to spend it too nicely. _El tiempo lo da
Dios; Dios mejora las horas; Con el tiempo maduran las uvas._ To a
peasant two o’clock on a day of March is “four more hours of sun.”
Time is not parcelled out mechanically into tiny divisions by clocks.
Distances are given by hours--an hour to a league. The Catalans are
less lavish of the minutes; to a stranger asking the distance to a
village near Tarragona, a peasant answered cannily in Catalan, “un
cuart y mitj”--that is, the village was a quarter of an hour and half
a quarter of an hour distant. Curiously the Catalans give the hour as
in German, _e.g._ half-past eight is _dos cuarts de nou--halb Neun_.
[30] “El Caballero encantado,” 1909: “Viven en un mundo de
ritualidades, de fórmulas, de trámites y recetas. El lenguaje se ha
llenado de aforismos, de lemas y emblemas; las ideas salen plagadas
de motes, y cuando las acciones quieren producirse andan buscando
la palabra en que han de encarnarse y no acaban de elegir.” The
Spaniards speak with conviction of the great gulf fixed between word
and deed:--_del dicho al hecho hay gran trecho; Los dichos en nos, los
hechos en Dios_.
[31] Cf. a speaker in the _Cortes_ in June, 1910: “Aquí no hay nada
tan alto como las clases bajas.”
[32] Don Ramiro de Maeztu has written of the aggressive assertion of
personality--_innecesária afirmación de las personas_--in Spain.
[33] _Lo que no lleva Cristo lo llera el fisco_--“What the Church
leaves, the Treasury receives,” says an old proverb.
[34] An author in Pérez Galdós’ _Fortunata y Jacinta_ says that the
Spaniards, that _pícara raza_, are unaware of the value of time and of
the value of silence. “You cannot make them understand that to take
possession of other people’s silence is like stealing a coin.” “It is
a lack of civilization.” By such un-Spanish criticisms Señor Pérez
Galdós betrays the fact that he was not born in Spain.
[35] The historian, Mariana, displayed more patriotism than accuracy
when he wrote that Spain “is not like Africa, which is burnt by the
violence of the sun nor is it assailed, as is France, by winds and
frosts and humidity of air and earth.”
[36] So Fr. Alonso de Espina wrote that, were an Inquisition
established, “serían innumerables los entregados al fuego, los cuales
si no fuesen aquí ... cruelmente castigados ... habrán de ser quemados
en el fuego eterno.” La Fortaleza de la Fe. 1459.
[37] “This spectacle,” says an admiring Englishman in 1760, “is
certainly one of the finest in the world, whether it is considered
merely as a _coup-d’œil_ or as an exertion of the bravery and infinite
agility of the performer.”
[38] Yet certainly no Englishman should attend a bull-fight while the
modern custom prevails of leading out a cruelly gored horse, sewing
it up, and bringing it in again for fresh sufferings. This is done to
save the contractors of the _plaza_ a few shillings and is a disgrace
to Spain. Those who have not seen a bull-fight and can scarcely
believe that so sordid and outrageous a practice is possible may, if
they have the courage, read all the details in Señor Blasco Ibáñez’
novel _Sangre y Arena_ (1908).
[39] The Inquisition was a tyranny universally feared, though in
principle supported by the people. In Pepys we read of “the English
and Dutch who have been sent for to work (in the manufacture of
certain stuffs) being taken with a Psalm-book or Testament and so
clapped up and the house pulled down; and the greatest Lord in Spayne
dare not say a word against it if the word Inquisition be mentioned.”
Cf. the groundless terror of the old woman in Quevedo’s _El Buscón_,
or the story of the man who, when asked for a few pears by an
Inquisitor, pulled up and presented him with the whole tree. Attacks
on and ridicule of priests in Spain are not exclusively modern; the
following verse of Juan Ruiz (14th century) is but one of countless
instances throughout Spanish literature:
“Como quier que los frayles et clerigos disen que aman a Dios servir
Si barruntan que el rico está para morir
Quando oyen sus dineros que comienzan a retenir
Qual de ellos lo levará comienzan luego a rennir.”
But recently the number of those believing in religion has diminished,
and the anti-Clericals have been driven by certain abuses of the
Church to a more or less crude parade of atheism. It is felt that
the Church has crushed life rather than sought its fuller, nobler
expression. Thus a writer, E. L. André (“Ética Española,” 1910), says:
“We conceive life solely as a preparation for death,” and speaks of
the slight _espíritu territorial_ possessed by Spaniards. Cf. Berceo,
in the 13th century: “Quanto aquí vivimos en ageno moramos”--our life
on earth is a sojourn in a strange land.
[40] Honesty is a common attribute of Spaniards, but they have perhaps
no very accurate regard for the value of truthfulness or honesty in
words.
[41] _La mujer y el fraile mal parecen en la calle._ In the South,
as at Seville, the percentage of women to be seen in the streets is
noticeably small.
[42] “El consejo de la mujer es poco,” said Sancho, “y el que no lo
toma es loco.” The women maintain their influence, but it is thus not
properly their own, but rather that of the Church.
[43] The phrase _Seguir sin novedad_ is still used to imply that
everything is going on well. But an ever-increasing number of
politicians are now advocating “new things” with a somewhat crude
violence. It is a reaction against the apathy that waited with crossed
hands--
“Vuolsi così colà dove si puote
Ciò che si vuole, e più non dimandare.”
[44] Cf. the characteristic trait mentioned by Samuel Pepys: “They
will cry out against their King, and Commanders, and Generals, none
like them in the world, and yet will not hear a stranger say a word of
them but will cut his throat.”
[45] It is true, however, that the mass of the Spanish nation has
still to develop on really Spanish lines: hence its present weakness
and its potential strength in the future, when a civilization of a
truly national character shall have imposed itself upon the artificial
civilization of culture imported from France, and religion imported
from Rome.
[46] The ethereally lovely Cathedral of León is more remote.
[47] Some of the secondary roads of Andalucía are excellent, and
motorable, though narrow. But between the roads of most provinces
there is little to choose. No wonder that there is in Spain a saint
invoked as the protector of “way-farers and the dying.” Ford remarked
that while the rest of Spain calls the Milky Way “the road to
Santiago,” the Gallegans themselves know better, and call it “the road
to Jerusalem.” The roads from small towns to their stations, at charge
of the _municipios_, are notably bad, and amaze the newly arrived
foreigner. But, indeed, the roads in the immediate neighbourhood of
such important industrial cities as Valencia and Barcelona are often
in a deplorable state, and it is no infrequent sight to see carts of
fruit or vegetables stuck fast in deep ruts of mud.
[48] Ticknor, in 1818, speaks of Spain as “a country such as this
where all comfortable or decent modes of travelling fail,” of the
“abominable roads,” and of the inns as “miserable hovels,” destitute
of provisions. A century and a half earlier Mme. d’ Aulnoy said: “You
enter not any inn to dine but carry your provisions with you.” But the
centuries pass not for Spanish inns.
[49] A peasant woman near Almería wore a long yellow and pink
kerchief, a bright red shawl, light blue bodice, skirt of white and
mauve, dark blue apron with a white line, red stockings, yellow
sandals, and carried a second shawl of brilliant orange colour, yet
all blent harmoniously under the glaring sunlight.
[50] Especially in the matter of letters, the ignorance, indifference,
errors, and delays of the officials are, to an Englishman, past
belief, and not least so at Madrid, where a letter has been kept for
two months and handed over, after repeated inquiries, with the date of
the Madrid post-mark, _seventy_ days earlier, clearly visible. Reforms
are, however, in contemplation. Foreign letters as a rule fare better
than others. A card posted at Granada on May 15, and a letter posted
in France on May 26, both arrived at Barcelona on May 27 (1911).
[51] The former importance of St. Jean de Luz (in Basque Donibane
Lohitzune) is shown by the lines--
“Saint Jean de Luz, petit Paris
Bayonne, son écurie.”
Similar is the proud boast of Almería:
“Cuando Almería era Almería
Granada era su alquería.”
Victor Hugo quaintly describes St. Jean de Luz in 1843 as “un village
cahoté dans les anfractuosités de la montagne.”
[52] English translation of 1692.
[53] In 1623 Sir R. Wynn describes the country near “Bilbo” as “all
infinite Rocky, cover’d onely with Furrs and a few Juniper Trees.”
[54] At St. Jean de Luz, where Louis XIV. was married to the Infanta,
a house still hears the inscription--
“L’Infante je reçus l’an mil six cent soixante
On m’appelle depuis le Chasteau de l’Infante.”
[55] “Par Vocation.” Paris. 1905.
[56] “_Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat._--All hours wound, the last
kills.”
[57] Cf. Mme. d’Aulnoy: “We were here very well entertain’d so that
our Tables were covered with all sorts of Wild Fowls.”
[58] The Basque poem, “_Altabiscarraco Kantua_,” singing of victory,
was considered magnificent when it was thought to be centuries old,
and though it has been proved beyond all doubt to be modern, we may
still venture to consider it to be magnificent: “A cry is heard among
the Basque mountains, and the Etchecojauna, standing before his door,
listens and says: ‘What is it? who is there?’ and the dog asleep at
his master’s feet, rises and fills the region of Altabiscar with his
barking.” One line is, “_Cer nahi zuten gure menditarik Norteko gizon
horiek?_--What do these men of the North want in our mountains?” and
another, “Why have they come to disturb our peace?” The Basques must
often have asked a like question as they have seen the foreigners of
younger races crowd around their mountains; but in spite of these
inroads, the Basques have succeeded in keeping a part of their
language and customs, like the waters of their proverb which, after a
thousand years, still run in their old course: “_Mila urthe igaro eta
ura bere bidean--Después de años mil, vuelve el rio á su cubil_.”
[59] Rymer, “Foedera.”
[60]
SARARI
BALHOREA
RENETALE
YALTASSUN
AREN SARIA
EMANA LUIS
XIV. 1693.
The words _balhorea_ (valour) and _leyaltassuna_ (loyalty) are typical
of the absence of truly Basque abstract words.
[61] The mountain La Rhune or Larrhun, is half in France, half in
Spain. Its name is Basque, derived from _larre_, pasture, and _on_,
good (in Navarre there is a river Larron and a village Larraona); but
the first syllable has become the French article, and a lower flank of
the mountain is known as “La petite Rhune.”
[62] Napier, who had no gift of spelling, writes Atchuria, or
Atchubia. The word means White Rock (_aitz_, rock, and _churi_, white)
and its Spanish name is Peña Plata, Silver Mountain.
[63] The badness of their French has been ridiculed in the proverb,
“Parler français comme une vache (_i.e._ Basque) espagnole.”
[64] Yet in a codex of the twelfth century occur eighteen Basque
words, all of which, except four, are still used, if in slightly
altered forms. The Basque language gives many proofs of the extreme
antiquity of the Basques. The words for “knife,” “axe,” etc.,
are derived from _aitz_, meaning “stone.” The words for “Monday”
(_astelehena_, “first day of the week”), “Tuesday” (_asteartea_,
“middle of the week”), “Wednesday” (_asteazkena_, “last of the week”)
point to a week of three days. The counting is vigesimal: “forty” is
_berrogoi_ (twice twenty); “sixty,” _hirogoi_ (thrice twenty). The
word for “twenty,” _hogoi_, has a curious similarity with the Greek
εἲκοτι and the sheepscoring _gigget_. There are no general terms--no
word for “tree” (for which _arbola_ is used), but for different kinds
of trees; no word for “sister,” but for “brother’s sister,” “sister’s
sister;” and no abstract terms (_karitatea_, _prudentzia_, _etc._,
being used).
[65] The best account of the Basques is to be found in the late Mr.
Wentworth Webster’s “Loisirs d’un Étranger au Pays Basque,” and in
his “The Basques, the Oldest People of Western Europe;” in M. Julien
Vinson’s “Les Basques et le Pays Basque” and Francisque Michel’s “Les
Basques.”
[66] A French writer, Le Pays, speaks thus of the Basque country in
the seventeenth century: “La joye y commence avec la vie et n’y finit
qu’avec la mort. Elle paroist en toutes leurs actions. Les prestres en
ont leur part aussi bien que les autres. J’ai remarqué qu’aux nopces
c’est toûjours le curé qui mene le branle.” Another Frenchman of the
same period says that the Basques of Labourd are “des gens toujours
fols et souvent yvres.” Similarly, Larramendi says that the Basques
are “muy inclinados á ver fiestas.”
[67] Cf. their proverbs, “Lan lasterra, lan alferra--Rapid work, idle
work;” and “Geroa, alferraren leloa--To-morrow is the refrain of the
idle.”
[68] The great game at Irun, between French and Spanish Basques, about
the year 1840, has become a legend, and is still spoken of by the
peasants. Gascoña, the chief French player, was offered 10,000 francs
“pour faire trahison,” but refused, were it ten times the sum. Oxen,
crops, fields and houses were freely betted. The ball, we are told,
was slily wetted for service, tintacks were scattered in the court,
and Gascoña, accustomed to play barefoot, called for a pair of heavy
wooden _sabots_, and continued the game. The French won, and were
obliged to escape across the frontier without changing, and _chistera_
on arm. Those were the times when the peasants left their farms
to play for the love of the game. To-day the game is in the hands
of a few professionals, for the benefit of foreigners, the result
often arranged beforehand. “Aujourd’hui,” said an aged player of the
frontier, “les joueurs rient quelquefois: nous ne riions pas, nous.”
[69] Antaño, en los antaños, dans le temps.
[70] Corografía de Guipúzcoa: “No es creible si no se ve el mucho pan
y cera que se ofrece.... Además en tales grandes funerales por modo de
ofrenda se trae á la puerta de la iglesia un buey vivo en unos lugares
y en otros un carnero también vivo que, acabado el oficio, se vuelve
á la casería ó carnicería, y por esto se paga al cura una cantidad
determinada en dinero.” He estimates the house expenses at 500 duros
(or dollars), and the Church expenses at another 500, truly an immense
sum for those days. When the burials took place in the church, the
offerings of bread and wax would be made on the tomb.
[71] The music and words are by Iparraguirre.
[72] Sare.
[73] Urrugne, above the sun-dial on the church.
[74] Saint Jean de Luz.
[75] Saint Pée, formerly Stus. Petrus de Ivarren. “There is a little
village called St. Pé, where I was stopped a day or two by very bad
weather. I was lodged at the Curé’s, a good old man, from whose
conversation about the state of France I received light which had
important results. He was very clever and very well-informed, and took
not only right, but large views of things.”--_The Duke of Wellington
to J. W. Croker._
[76] Near Louhossoa.
[77] “Remember death.”--Ossès.
[78] Vizcaya and Guipúzcoa are, with Barcelona and Pontevedra,
the most densely populated provinces in Spain. The Basques have a
genius for administration which is not to be found in other parts
of the Peninsula. Their excellent roads and cleanly kept towns form
a striking contrast. They have a true love of local independence,
and in the eighteenth century we find two Basque frontier villages,
Vera and Sare, styling themselves in a treaty the “two Republics.”
The treaty concerned Yerbas y Aguas y Bellotas; grass, water and
acorns. Similarly, to-day, in the Basque provinces groups of small
villages and houses are joined in free “hermandades,” “universidades,”
“anteiglesias,” “valles.” The few privileges that remain are jealously
guarded. The Navarrese will tell you with pride that theirs is the
only province where a man is allowed to find a substitute in the
conscriptions.
[79] The Spanish Premier himself has said in the Senate (October,
1910), that if the Basque Provinces are more advanced than other parts
of Spain this is due not to their merits, but to the favouritism of
governments. A knowledge of the Basques, however, hardly warrants this
statement. Since the abolition of the _fueros_, says the late Mr.
Butler Clarke, in “Modern Spain,” “their efforts are restricted to
making the administration of their provinces a model for the rest of
Spain.”
[80] The Basques took their revenge by the hand of M. l’Abbé d’Iharce
de Bidassouet. In his “Histoire des Cantabres,” tom. I. Paris, 1825
(vol. ii. was not published), he derives all names of places from
Basque, as the original language of the world. “Je ne serai pas assez
hardi,” he says, “pour soutenir que le Père Éternel parlât basque,”
but he is really convinced that it is so. L’Andalousie, with the help
of the article, he derives from two Basque words, “landa lusia,” long
land. Versailles is a Basque word, so is Athens, so is Helicon. Norway
puzzles him for a moment, but soon with the remark that “Norvège
est un mot altéré et corrompu,” he tosses it aside and proceeds on
his reckless etymological course. Certainly to the irresponsible
philologist Basque offers a delightful field. For instance, the name
of the desolate salt lake of Kevir in Persia has been derived from a
word “gavr” or “gav” (“hollow,” “depression”). In Basque “gabe” means
without, and the word for night is also “gabe” (no doubt as being a
hollow without light). Then we have the Gaves, de Pau, d’Oloron, etc.;
the Spanish “gaveta” (a pigeonhole), “gavia” (pit dug for planting a
tree); “cavus,” “cave” and so forth. But to draw inferences as to the
origin of the Iberians, as to whether the same or different peoples
inhabited the Caucasus and the Pyrenees, or even as to whether “le
Père Éternel parlât Basque,” is a very different matter, beset with
pitfalls innumerable.
[81] See Wentworth Webster, “Les Loisirs d’un Étranger au Pays
Basque.” 1901. This was a common practice of the Romans who, meeting
words so rough and horrid to their Latin pronunciation in the land of
the Basques, “quorum nomina,” according to Pomponius Mela, “nostro
ore concipi nequeunt,” would smooth and round these names and give
them a Latin derivation. The Spaniards may have done the same in the
case of Valencia Island, Co. Kerry. The form in old maps is Ballinish
(_Innish_, “island,” and _ball_, “home” or perhaps “mouth”--the
harbour the mouth of the island), and the peasants still pronounce the
name Valinch.
[82] Yet those who connect Barcelona with the smoke and gloom of an
industrial city, having heard it spoken of as the Manchester of Spain,
are mistaken. Barcelona is still worthy of the praise of the Venetian
ambassador in the sixteenth century, who called it a “bellissima
città,” with “copia di giardini bellisimi,” and of the praises of
Cervantes in “Don Quixote,” and in “Las Dos Doncellas,” where it is
the “flower of the beautiful cities of the world and an honour to
Spain.”
[83] “España: Hombres y paisajes.” 1909.
[84] A Spanish proverb says: “When it rains, it rains; when it snows,
it snows; but ’tis bad weather when it blows.” Agriculture in many
parts of Spain is literally “ἀπάνευθεν ἐπ’ ἀγροῦ πήυατα πάσχειν--to
suffer woes apart upon the land.”
[85] Cf. Pío Baroja, “César ó Nada.” Madrid, 1910: “Hay una hora
en estos pueblos castellanos, adustos y viejos, de paz y serenidad
ideales. Es el comenzar de la mañana. Todavía los gallos cantan, las
campanadas de la iglesia se derraman por el aire y el sol comienza
á penetrar en las calles en ráfagas de luz. La mañana es un diluvio
de claridad que se precipita sobre el pueblo amarillento. El cielo
está azul, el aire limpio, puro y diáfano; la atmósfera transparente
no da casi efectos de perspectiva, y su masa etérea hace vibrar
los contornos de las casas, de los campanarios y de los remates de
los tejados. El viento frío y sutil juega en las encrucijadas y se
entretiene en torcer los tallos de los geranios y de los claveles
que llamean en los balcones. Hay por todas partes un olor de jara y
de retama quemada que viene de los hornos donde se cuece el pan, y
un olor de alhucema que viene de los zaguanes.” Castille has been a
little neglected by the novelists in comparison with other regions.
But recently Ricardo León (in “El Amor de los Amores,” 1910), has
sung the praises of the _ancha, heróica tierra de Castilla_, its
austere simplicity and strength, its serene atmosphere, its golden
crops, its flocks of sheep, clear streams, thyme-scented solitudes,
and far horizons. And _Azorín_, in a short study, “En la Meseta” (_La
Vanguardia_ of Barcelona, January 4, 1911), as in his books “España,”
“El Alma Castellana,” “Los Pueblos,” skilfully portrays the inner
spirit of Castille: “Por la ventana se columbra un paisaje llano,
seco, desmantelado; á lo lejos se divisan unas montañas con las cimas
blanqueadas por la nieve.... Todo el silencio, toda la rigidez, toda
la adustez de esta inmoble vida castellana está concentrada en los
rebaños que cruzan la llanura lentamente y se recogen en los oteros
y los valles de las montañas. Mirad ese rabadán, envuelto en su capa
récia y parda, contemplando un cielo azul sin nubes, ante el paisaje
abrupto y grandioso de la montaña, y tendréis explicado el tipo del
campesino castellano castizo, histórico: noble, austero, grave y
elegante en el ademán, corto, sentencioso y agudo on sus razones.”
[86] Señor Gasset, Minister of Public Works, now proposes (in a scheme
explained to the Congress on March 9, 1911) to spend twenty-seven
million _pesetas_ on afforestation in ten years.
[87] Martial, referring to the frequency of winds of Spain, says--
“Debes non aliter timere risum
Quam ventum Spanius.”
[88] El Conde Lucanor, “Enxemplo 30:” “...el rey Abenabet de Sevilla
era casada con Romayquia et amábala muy mas que á cosa del mundo, et
ella era muy buena mujer, et los moros han della muy buenos enxemplos:
pero una manera habia que non era muy buena, esto era, que á las
vegadas tomaba algunos antojos á su voluntad. Et acaesció que un dia,
estando en Córdoba en el mes de febrero, cayó una nieve, et cuando
Romayquia esto vió comenzó á llorar, et el rey preguntóle porque
lloraba, et ella dijó que porque nunca la dejaba estar en tierra que
hubiese nieve. Et el rey, por le facer placer, fize poner almendrales
por toda la tierra de Córdoba, porque pues Córdoba es tan caliente
tierra et non nieva y cada año, que en el febrero paresciesen los
almendrales floridos et le semejasen nieve, por le facer perder aquel
deseo de la nieve.”
[89] George Eliot, “The Spanish Gypsy.” The purple shadows are the
effect of dark patches of rock seen through the transparent blue water.
[90] “_Papel y tinta y poca justicia_, paper, ink, and little
justice,” say the people, in one of their proverbs. They feel that,
in Spain, if revenge is a kind of wild justice, so too frequently is
justice.