Such, was the preponderance of the ecclesiastical profession, and such was the homage paid to ecclesiastical interests by the Spaniards during the seventeenth century.[1284] They did everything to strengthen the Church in that very age when other nations first set themselves in earnest to weaken it. This unhappy peculiarity was undoubtedly the effect of preceding events; but it was the immediate cause of the decline of Spain, since, whatever may have been the case in former periods, it is certain that, in modern times, the prosperity of nations depends on principles to which the clergy, as a body, are invariably opposed. Under Philip III. they gained an immense accession of strength; and in that very reign they signalized this new epoch of their power by obtaining, with circumstances of horrible barbarity, the expulsion of the whole Moorish nation. This was an act so atrocious in itself,[1285] and so terrible in its consequences, that some writers have ascribed to it alone, the subsequent ruin of Spain; forgetting that other causes, far more potent, were also at work, and that this stupendous crime could never have been perpetrated, except in a country which, being long accustomed to regard heresy as the most heinous of all offences, was ready, at any cost, to purge the land and to free itself from men whose mere presence was regarded as an insult to the Christian faith.

After the reduction, late in the fifteenth century, of the last Mohammedan kingdom in Spain, the great object of the Spaniards became to convert those whom they had conquered.[1286] They believed that the future welfare of a whole people was at stake; and finding that the exhortations of their clergy had no effect, they had recourse to other means, and persecuted the men they were unable to persuade. By torturing some, by burning others, and by threatening all, they at length succeeded; and we are assured that, after the year 1526, there was no Mohammedan in Spain, who had not been converted to Christianity.[1287] Immense numbers of them were baptized by force; but being baptized, it was held that they belonged to the Church, and were amenable to her discipline.[1288] That discipline was administered by the Inquisition, which, during the rest of the sixteenth century, subjected these new Christians, or Moriscoes, as they were now called,[1289] to the most barbarous treatment. The genuineness of their forced conversion was doubted; it therefore became the business of the Church to inquire into their sincerity.[1290] The civil government lent its aid; and among other enactments, an edict was issued by Philip II. in 1566, ordering the Moriscoes to abandon everything which by the slightest possibility could remind them of their former religion. They were commanded, under severe penalties, to learn Spanish, and to give up all their Arabic books. They were forbidden to read their native language, or to write it, or even to speak it in their own houses. Their ceremonies and their very games were strictly prohibited. They were to indulge in no amusements which had been practised by their fathers; neither were they to wear such clothes as they had been accustomed to. Their women were to go unveiled; and as bathing was a heathenish custom, all public baths were to be destroyed, and even all baths in private houses.[1291]

By these and similar measures,[1292] these unhappy people were at length goaded into rebellion; and in 1568 they took the desperate step of measuring their force against that of the whole Spanish monarchy. The result could hardly be doubted; but the Moriscoes maddened by their sufferings, and fighting for their all, protracted the contest till 1571, when the insurrection was finally put down.[1293] By this unsuccessful effort, they were greatly reduced in numbers and in strength; and, during the remaining twenty-seven years of the reign of Philip II. we hear comparatively little of them. Notwithstanding an occasional outbreak, the old animosities were subsiding, and in the course of time would probably have disappeared. At all events, there was no pretence for violence on the part of the Spaniards, since it was absurd to suppose that the Moriscoes, weakened in every way, humbled, broken, and scattered through the kingdom, could, even if they desired it, effect any thing against the resources of the executive government.

But, after the death of Philip II., that movement began which I have just described, and which, contrary to the course of affairs in other nations, secured to the Spanish clergy in the seventeenth century, more power than they had possessed in the sixteenth. The consequences of this were immediately apparent. The clergy did not think that the steps taken by Philip II. against the Moriscoes were sufficiently decisive; and even during his lifetime they looked forward to a new reign, in which these Christians of doubtful sincerity should be either destroyed or driven from Spain.[1294] While he was on the throne, the prudence of the government restrained in some degree the eagerness of the Church; and the king, following the advice of his ablest ministers, refused to adopt the measures to which he was urged, and to which his own disposition prompted him.[1295] But, under his successor, the clergy, as we have already seen, gained fresh strength, and they soon felt themselves sufficiently powerful to begin another and final crusade against the miserable remains of the Moorish nation.[1296]

The Archbishop of Valencia was the first to take the field. In 1602, this eminent prelate presented a memorial to Philip III. against the Moriscoes; and finding that his views were cordially supported by the clergy, and not discouraged by the crown, he followed up the blow by another memorial having the same object.[1297] The Archbishop, who spoke as one having authority, and who from his rank and position was a natural representative of the Spanish Church, assured the king that all the disasters which had befallen the monarchy, had been caused by the presence of these unbelievers, whom it was now necessary to root out, even as David had done to the Philistines, and Saul to the Amalekites.[1298] He declared that the Armada, which Philip II. sent against England in 1588, had been destroyed, because God would not allow even that pious enterprise to succeed, while those who undertook it, left heretics undisturbed at home. For the same reason, the late expedition to Algiers had failed; it being evidently the will of Heaven that nothing should prosper while Spain was inhabited by apostates.[1299] He, therefore, exhorted the king to exile all the Moriscoes, except some whom he might condemn to work in the galleys, and others who could become slaves, and labour in the mines of America.[1300] This, he added, would make the reign of Philip glorious to all posterity, and would raise his fame far above that of his predecessors, who in this matter had neglected their obvious duty.[1301]

These remonstrances, besides being in accordance with the known views of the Spanish Church, were warmly supported by the personal influence of the Archbishop of Toledo, the primate of Spain. In only one respect did he differ from the views advocated by the Archbishop of Valencia. The Archbishop of Valencia thought that children under seven years of age need not share in the general banishment, but might, without danger to the faith, be separated from their parents, and kept in Spain. To this, the Archbishop of Toledo strongly objected. He was unwilling, he said, to run the risk of pure Christian blood being polluted by infidels; and he declared that sooner than leave one of these unbelievers to corrupt the land, he would have the whole of them, men, women, and children, at once put to the sword.[1302]

That they should all be slain, instead of being banished, was the desire of a powerful party in the Church, who thought that such signal punishment would work good by striking terror into the heretics of every nation. Bleda, the celebrated Dominican, one of the most influential men of his time, wished this to be done, and to be done thoroughly. He said, that, for the sake of example, every Morisco in Spain should have his throat cut, because it was impossible to tell which of them were Christians at heart, and it was enough to leave the matter to God, who knew his own, and who would reward in the next world those who were really Catholics.[1303]

It was evident that the fate of the wretched remnant of a once splendid nation was now sealed. The religious scruples of Philip III. forbade him to struggle with the Church; and his minister Lerma would not risk his own authority by even the show of opposition. In 1609, he announced to the king, that the expulsion of the Moriscoes had become necessary. ‘The resolution,’ replied Philip, ‘is a great one; let it be executed.’[1304] And executed it was, with unflinching barbarity. About one million of the most industrious inhabitants of Spain were hunted out like wild beasts, because the sincerity of their religious opinions was doubtful.[1305] Many were slain, as they approached the coast; others were beaten and plundered; and the majority, in the most wretched plight, sailed for Africa. During the passage, the crew, in many of the ships, rose upon them, butchered the men, ravished the women, and threw the children into the sea. Those who escaped this fate, landed on the coast of Barbary, where they were attacked by the Bedouins, and many of them put to the sword. Others made their way into the desert, and perished from famine. Of the number of lives actually sacrificed, we have no authentic account; but it is said, on very good authority, that in one expedition, in which 140,000 were carried to Africa, upwards of 100,000 suffered death in its most frightful forms within a few months after their expulsion from Spain.[1306]

Now, for the first time, the Church was really triumphant.[1307] For the first time, there was not a heretic to be seen between the Pyrenees and the Straits of Gibraltar. All were orthodox, and all were loyal. Every inhabitant of that great country obeyed the Church, and feared the king. And from this happy combination, it was believed that the prosperity and grandeur of Spain were sure to follow. The name of Philip III. was to be immortal, and posterity would never weary of admiring that heroic act by which the last remains of an infidel race were cast out from the land. Those who had even remotely participated in the glorious consummation, were to be rewarded by the choicest blessings. Themselves, and their families, were under the immediate protection of Heaven. The earth should bear more fruit, and the trees should clap their hands. Instead of the thorn should come up the fir-tree, and instead of the brier, the myrtle. A new era was now inaugurated, in which Spain, purged of her heresy, was to be at ease, and men, living in safety, were to sleep under the shade of their own vineyards, sow their gardens in peace, and eat of the fruit of the trees they had planted.[1308]

These were the promises held out by the Church, and believed by the people. It is our business to inquire how far the expectations were fulfilled, and what the consequences were of an act which was instigated by the clergy, welcomed by the nation, and eagerly applauded by some of the greatest men of genius Spain has produced.[1309]

The effects upon the material prosperity of Spain may be stated in a few words. From nearly every part of the country, large bodies of industrious agriculturists and expert artificers were suddenly withdrawn. The best systems of husbandry then known, were practised by the Moriscoes, who tilled and irrigated with indefatigable labour.[1310] The cultivation of rice, cotton, and sugar, and the manufacture of silk and paper, were almost confined to them.[1311] By their expulsion, all this was destroyed at a blow, and most of it was destroyed for ever. For, the Spanish Christians considered such pursuits beneath their dignity. In their judgment, war and religion were the only two avocations worthy of being followed. To fight for the king, or to enter the Church was honourable; but everything else was mean and sordid.[1312] When, therefore, the Moriscoes were thrust out of Spain, there was no one to fill their place; arts and manufactures either degenerated, or were entirely lost, and immense regions of arable land were left uncultivated. Some of the richest parts of Valencia and Granada were so neglected, that means were wanting to feed even the scanty population which remained there.[1313] Whole districts were suddenly deserted, and down to the present day have never been repeopled. These solitudes gave refuge to smugglers and brigands, who succeeded the industrious inhabitants formerly occupying them; and it is said, that from the expulsion of the Moriscoes is to be dated the existence of those organized bands of robbers, which, after this period, became the scourge of Spain, and which no subsequent government has been able entirely to extirpate.[1314]

To these disastrous consequences, others were added, of a different, and, if possible, of a still more serious kind. The victory gained by the Church increased both her power and her reputation. During the rest of the seventeenth century, not only were the interests of the clergy deemed superior to the interests of laymen, but the interests of laymen were scarcely thought of. The greatest men, with hardly an exception, became ecclesiastics, and all temporal considerations, all views of earthly policy, were despised and set at nought. No one inquired; no one doubted; no one presumed to ask if all this was right. The minds of men succumbed and were prostrate. While every other country was advancing, Spain alone was receding. Every other country was making some addition to knowledge, creating some art, or enlarging some science. Spain, numbed into a death-like torpor, spellbound and entranced by the accursed superstition which preyed on her strength, presented to Europe a solitary instance of constant decay. For her, no hope remained; and, before the close of the seventeenth century, the only question was, by whose hands the blow should be struck, which would dismember that once mighty empire, whose shadow had covered the world, and whose vast remains were imposing even in their ruin.

To indicate the different steps which mark the decline of Spain would be hardly possible, since even the Spaniards, who, when it was too late, were stung with shame, have abstained from writing what would only be the history of their own humiliation; so that there is no detailed account of the wretched reigns of Philip IV. and Charles II., which together comprise a period of nearly eighty years.[1315] Some facts, however, I have been able to collect, and they are very significant. At the beginning of the seventeenth century, the population of Madrid was estimated to be 400,000; at the beginning of the eighteenth century, less than 200,000.[1316] Seville, one of the richest cities in Spain, possessed in the sixteenth century upwards of sixteen thousand looms, which gave employment to a hundred and thirty thousand persons.[1317] By the reign of Philip V., these sixteen thousand looms had dwindled away to less than three hundred;[1318] and, in a report which the Cortes made to Philip IV., in 1662, it is stated that the city contained only a quarter of its former number of inhabitants, and that even the vines and olives cultivated in its neighbourhood, and which comprised a considerable part of its wealth, were almost entirely neglected.[1319] Toledo, in the middle of the sixteenth century, had upwards of fifty woollen manufactories; in 1665, it had only thirteen, almost the whole of the trade having been carried away by the Moriscoes, and established at Tunis.[1320] Owing to the same cause, the art of manufacturing silk, for which Toledo was celebrated, was entirely lost, and nearly forty thousand persons, who depended on it, were deprived of their means of support.[1321] Other branches of industry shared the same fate. In the sixteenth century, and early in the seventeenth, Spain enjoyed great repute for the manufacture of gloves, which were made in enormous quantities, and shipped to many parts, being particularly valued in England and France, and being also exported to the Indies. But Martinez de Mata, who wrote in the year 1655, assures us that at that time this source of wealth had disappeared; the manufacture of gloves having quite ceased, though formerly, he says, it had existed in every city in Spain.[1322] In the once-flourishing province of Castile, every thing was going to ruin. Even Segovia lost its manufactures, and retained nothing but the memory of its former wealth.[1323] The decay of Burgos was equally rapid; the trade of that famous city perished; and the deserted streets and empty houses formed such a picture of desolation, that a contemporary, struck by the havoc, emphatically declared that Burgos had lost every thing except its name.[1324] In other districts, the results were equally fatal. The beautiful provinces of the south, richly endowed by nature, had formerly been so wealthy, that their contributions alone sufficed, in time of need, to replenish the imperial treasury; but they now deteriorated with such rapidity, that, by the year 1640, it was found hardly possible to impose a tax on them which would be productive.[1325] During the latter half of the seventeenth century, matters became still worse, and the poverty and wretchedness of the people surpass all description. In the villages near Madrid, the inhabitants were literally famishing; and those farmers who had a stock of food refused to sell it, because, much as they needed money, they were apprehensive of seeing their families perish around them. The consequence was, that the capital was in danger of being starved; and ordinary threats producing no effect, it was found necessary, in 1664, that the President of Castile, with an armed force, and accompanied by the public executioner, should visit the adjacent villages, and compel the inhabitants to bring their supplies to the markets of Madrid.[1326] All over Spain, the same destitution prevailed. That once rich and prosperous country was covered with a rabble of monks and clergy, whose insatiate rapacity absorbed the little wealth yet to be found. Hence it happened, that the government, though almost penniless, could obtain no supplies. The tax-gatherers, urged to make up the deficiency, adopted the most desperate expedients. They not only seized the beds and all the furniture, but they unroofed the houses, and sold the materials of the roof, for whatever they would fetch. The inhabitants were forced to fly; the fields were left uncultivated; vast multitudes died from want and exposure; entire villages were deserted; and in many of the towns, upwards of two-thirds of the houses were, by the end of the seventeenth century, utterly destroyed.[1327]

In the midst of these calamities, the spirit and energy of Spain were extinguished. In every department, all power and life disappeared. The Spanish troops were defeated at Rocroy in 1643; and several writers ascribe to that battle the destruction of the military reputation of Spain.[1328] This, however, was only one of many symptoms.[1329] In 1656, it was proposed to fit out a small fleet; but the fisheries on the coast had so declined, that it was found impossible to procure sailors enough to man even the few ships which were required.[1330] The charts which had been made, were either lost or neglected; and the ignorance of the Spanish pilots became so notorious, that no one was willing to trust them.[1331] As to the military service, it is stated, in an account of Spain, late in the seventeenth century, that most of the troops had deserted their colours, and that the few who were faithful were clothed in rags, received no pay, and were dying of hunger.[1332] Another account describes this once mighty kingdom as utterly unprotected; the frontier towns ungarrisoned; the fortifications dilapidated and crumbling away; the magazines without ammunition; the arsenals empty; the workshops unemployed; and even the art of building ships entirely lost.[1333]

While the country at large was thus languishing, as if it had been stricken by some mortal distemper, the most horrible scenes were occurring in the capital, under the eyes of the sovereign. The inhabitants of Madrid were starving; and the arbitrary measures which had been adopted to supply them with food, could only produce temporary relief. Many persons fell down in the streets exhausted, and died where they fell; others were seen in the public highway evidently dying, but no one had wherewithal to feed them. At length the people became desperate, and threw off all control. In 1680, not only the workmen of Madrid, but large numbers of the tradesmen, organized themselves into bands, broke open private houses, and robbed and murdered the inhabitants in the face of day.[1334] During the remaining twenty years of the seventeenth century, the capital was in a state, not of insurrection, but of anarchy. Society was loosened, and seemed to be resolving itself into its elements. To use the emphatic language of a contemporary, liberty and restraint were equally unknown.[1335] The ordinary functions of the executive government were suspended. The police of Madrid, unable to obtain the arrears of their pay, disbanded, and gave themselves up to rapine. Nor did there seem any means of remedying these evils. The exchequer was empty, and it was impossible to replenish it. Such was the poverty of the court, that money was wanting to pay the wages of the king's private servants, and to meet the daily expenses of his household.[1336] In 1693, payment was suspended of every life-pension; and all officers and ministers of the crown were mulcted of one-third of their salaries.[1337] Nothing, however, could arrest the mischief. Famine and poverty continued to increase;[1338] and, in 1699, Stanhope, the British minister then residing in Madrid, writes, that never a day passed in which people were not killed in the streets scuffling for bread; that his own secretary had seen five women stifled to death by the crowd before a bakehouse; and that, to swell the catalogue of misery, upwards of twenty thousand additional beggars from the country had recently flocked into the capital.[1339]

If this state of things had continued for another generation, the wildest anarchy must have ensued, and the whole frame of society been broken up.[1340] The only chance of saving Spain from a relapse into barbarism, was that it should fall, and fall quickly, under foreign dominion. Such a change was indispensable; and there was reason to fear that it might come in a form which would have been inexpressibly odious to the nation. For, late in the seventeenth century, Ceuta was besieged by the Mohammedans; and as the Spanish Government had neither troops nor ships, the greatest apprehensions were entertained respecting the fate of this important fortress; there being little doubt, that if it fell, Spain would be again overrun by the infidels, who, this time, at least, would have found little difficulty in dealing with a people weakened by suffering, half famished, and almost worn out.[1341]

Fortunately, in the year 1700, when affairs were at their worst, Charles II., the idiot king, died; and Spain fell into the hands of Philip V., the grandson of Louis XIV. This change from the Austrian dynasty to the Bourbon,[1342] brought with it many other changes. Philip, who reigned from 1700 to 1746,[1343] was a Frenchman, not only by birth and education, but also in feelings and habits.[1344] Just before he entered Spain, Louis charged him never to forget that he was a native of France, the throne of which he might some day ascend.[1345] After he became king, he neglected the Spaniards, despised their advice, and threw all the power he could command into the hands of his own countrymen.[1346] The affairs of Spain were now administered by subjects of Louis XIV., whose ambassador at Madrid frequently performed the functions of prime minister.[1347] What had once been the most powerful monarchy in the world, became little else than a province of France; all important matters being decided in Paris, from whence Philip himself received his instructions.[1348]

The truth is, that Spain, broken and prostrate, was unable to supply ability of any kind; and if the government of the country was to be carried on, it was absolutely necessary that foreigners should be called in.[1349] Even in 1682, that is, eighteen years before the accession of Philip V., there was not to be found a single native well acquainted with the art of war; so that Charles II. was obliged to intrust the military defence of the Spanish Netherlands to De Grana, the Austrian ambassador at Madrid.[1350] When, therefore, the War of the Succession broke out, in 1702, even the Spaniards themselves desired that their troops should be commanded by a foreigner.[1351] In 1704, the extraordinary spectacle was exhibited of the Duke of Berwick, an Englishman, leading Spanish soldiers against the enemy, and being in fact generalissimo of the Spanish army.[1352] The King of Spain, dissatisfied with his proceedings, determined to remove him; but, instead of filling his place with a native, he applied to Louis XIV. for another general; and this important post was confided to Marshal Tessé, a Frenchman.[1353] A little later, Berwick was again summoned to Madrid, and ordered to put himself at the head of the Spanish troops, and defend Estremadura and Castile.[1354] This he effected with complete success; and, in the battle of Almansa, which he fought in 1707, he overthrew the invaders, ruined the party of the pretender Charles,[1355] and secured the seat of Philip on the throne.[1356] As the war, however, still continued, Philip, in 1710, wrote to Paris for another general, and requested that the Duke de Vendôme might be sent to him.[1357] This able commander, on his arrival, infused new vigour into the Spanish counsels, and utterly defeated the allies;[1358] so that the war by which the independence of Spain was established, owed its success to the ability of foreigners, and to the fact that the campaigns were planned and conducted, not by natives, but by French and English generals.

In the same way, the finances were, by the end of the seventeenth century, in such deplorable confusion, that Portocarrero, who at the accession of Philip V. was the nominal minister of Spain, expressed a desire that they should be administered by some one sent from Paris, who could restore them.[1359] He felt that no one in Spain was equal to the task, and he was by no means singular in this opinion. In 1701, Louville wrote to Torcy, that if a financier did not soon arrive from France, there would shortly be no finances to administer.[1360] The choice fell upon Orry, who reached Madrid in the summer of 1701.[1361] He found everything in the most miserable condition; and the incompetence of the Spaniards was so obvious, that he was soon forced to undertake the management, not only of the finances, but also of the war-department. To save appearances, Canalez became the ostensible minister at war; but he, being completely ignorant of affairs, merely performed the drudgery of that office, the real duties of which were fulfilled by Orry himself.[1362]

This dominion of the French continued, without interruption, until the second marriage of Philip V., in 1714, and the death of Louis XIV., in 1715, both of which events weakened their influence, and for a time almost destroyed it. The authority, however, which they lost, was transferred, not to Spaniards, but to other foreigners. Between 1714 and 1726, the two most powerful and conspicuous men in Spain were Alberoni, an Italian, and Ripperda, a Dutchman. Ripperda was dismissed in 1726;[1363] and after his fall, the affairs of Spain were controlled by Konigseg, who was a German, and who, indeed, was the Austrian ambassador residing at Madrid.[1364] Even Grimaldo, who held office before and after the dismissal of Ripperda, was a disciple of the French school, and had been brought up under Orry.[1365] All this was not the result of accident, nor is it to be ascribed to the caprice of the court. In Spain, the national spirit had so died away, that none but foreigners, or men imbued with foreign ideas, were equal to the duties of government. To the evidence already quoted on this point, I will add two other testimonies. Noailles, a very fair judge, and by no means prejudiced against the Spaniards, emphatically stated, in 1710, that, notwithstanding their loyalty, they were incapable of ruling, inasmuch as they were ignorant both of war and of politics.[1366] In 1711, Bonnac mentions that a resolution had been formed to place no Spaniard at the head of affairs, because those hitherto employed had proved to be either unfortunate or unfaithful.[1367]

The government of Spain being taken from the Spaniards, now began to show some signs of vigour. The change was slight, but it was in the right direction, though, as we shall presently see, it could not regenerate Spain, owing to the unfavourable operation of general causes. Still, the intention was good. For the first time, attempts were made to vindicate the rights of laymen, and to diminish the authority of ecclesiastics. Scarcely had the French established their dominion, when they suggested that it might be advisable to relieve the necessities of the state, by compelling the clergy to give up some of the wealth which they had accumulated in their churches.[1368] Even Louis XIV. insisted that the important office of President of Castile should not be conferred on an ecclesiastic, because, he said, in Spain the priests and monks had already too much power.[1369] Orry, who for several years possessed immense influence, exerted it in the same direction. He endeavoured to lessen the immunities possessed by the clergy, in regard to taxation, and also in regard to their exemption from lay jurisdiction. He opposed the privilege of sanctuary; he sought to deprive churches of their right of asylum. He even attacked the Inquisition, and worked so powerfully on the mind of the king, that Philip, at one time, determined to suspend that dreadful tribunal, and abolish the office of grand inquisitor.[1370] This intention was very properly abandoned; for there can be no doubt that if it had been enforced, it would have caused a revolution, in which Philip would probably have lost his crown.[1371] In such case, a reaction would have set in, which would have left the Church stronger than ever. Many things, however, were done for Spain in spite of the Spaniards.[1372] In 1707, the clergy were forced to contribute to the state a small part of their enormous wealth; the tax being disguised under the name of a loan.[1373] Ten years later, during the administration of Alberoni, this disguise was thrown off; and not only did government exact what was now called ‘the ecclesiastical tax,’ but it imprisoned or exiled those priests who, refusing to pay, stood up for the privileges of their order.[1374] This was a bold step to be taken in Spain, and it was one on which, at that time, no Spaniard would have ventured. Alberoni, however, as a foreigner, was unversed in the traditions of the country, which, indeed, on another memorable occasion, he set at defiance. The government of Madrid, acting in complete unison with public opinion, had always been unwilling to negotiate with infidels; meaning by infidels every people whose religious notions differed from their own. Sometimes, such negotiations were unavoidable, but they were entered into with fear and trembling, lest the pure Spanish faith should be tainted by too close a contact with unbelievers. Even in 1698, when it was evident that the monarchy was at its last gasp, and that nothing could save it from the hands of the spoiler, the prejudice was so strong, that the Spaniards refused to receive aid from the Dutch, because the Dutch were heretics. At that time, Holland was in the most intimate relation with England, whose interest it was to secure the independence of Spain against the machinations of France. Obvious, however, as this was, the Spanish theologians, being consulted respecting the proposal, declared that it was inadmissible, since it would enable the Dutch to propagate their religious opinions; so that, according to this view, it was better to be subjugated by a Catholic enemy, than to be assisted by a Protestant friend.[1375]

Still, much as the Spaniards hated Protestants, they hated Mohammedans yet more.[1376] They could never forget how the followers of that creed had once conquered nearly the whole of Spain, and had, during several centuries, possessed the fairest portion of it. The remembrance of this strengthened their religious animosity, and caused them to be the chief supporters of nearly every war which was waged against the Mohammedans, both of Turkey and of Africa.[1377] But Alberoni, being a foreigner, was unmoved by these considerations, and, to the astonishment of all Spain, he, on the mere ground of political expediency, set at naught the principles of the Church, and not only concluded an alliance with the Mohammedans, but supplied them with arms and with money.[1378] It is, indeed, true, that, in these and similar measures, Alberoni opposed himself to the national will, and that he lived to repent of his boldness. It is, however, also true, that his policy was part of a great secular and anti-theological movement, which, during the eighteenth century, was felt all over Europe. The effects of that movement were seen in the government of Spain, but not in the people. This was because the government for many years was wielded by foreigners, or by natives imbued with a foreign spirit. Hence we find that, during the greater part of the eighteenth century, the politicians of Spain formed a class more isolated, and, if I may so say, more living on their own intellectual resources, than the politicians of any other country during the same period. That this indicated a state of disease, and that no political improvement can produce real good, unless it is desired by the people before being conferred on them, will be admitted by whoever has mastered the lessons which history contains. The results actually produced in Spain, we shall presently see. But it will first be advisable that I should give some further evidence of the extent to which the influence of the Church had prostrated the national intellect, and by discouraging all inquiry, and fettering all freedom of thought, had at length reduced the country to such a plight, that the faculties of men, rusted by disuse, were no longer equal to fulfil the functions required from them; so that in every department, whether of political life, or of speculative philosophy, or even of mechanical industry, it was necessary that foreigners should be called in, to do that work, which the natives had become unable to perform.

The ignorance in which the force of adverse circumstances had sunk the Spaniards, and their inactivity, both bodily and mental, would be utterly incredible, if it were not attested by every variety of evidence. Gramont, writing from personal knowledge of the state of Spain, during the latter half of the seventeenth century, describes the upper classes as not only unacquainted with science or literature, but as knowing scarcely any thing even of the commonest events which occurred out of their own country. The lower ranks, he adds, are equally idle, and rely upon foreigners to reap their wheat, to cut their hay, and to build their houses.[1379] Another observer of society, as it existed in Madrid in 1679, assures us that men, even of the highest position, never thought it necessary that their sons should study; and that those who were destined for the army could not learn mathematics, if they desired to do so, inasmuch as there were neither schools nor masters to teach them.[1380] Books, unless they were books of devotion, were deemed utterly useless; no one consulted them; no one collected them; and, until the eighteenth century, Madrid did not possess a single public library.[1381] In other cities professedly devoted to purposes of education, similar ignorance prevailed. Salamanca was the seat of the most ancient and most famous university in Spain, and there, if anywhere, we might look for the encouragement of science.[1382] But De Torres, who was himself a Spaniard, and was educated at Salamanca, early in the eighteenth century, declares that he had studied at that university for five years before he had heard that such things as the mathematical sciences existed.[1383] So late as the year 1771, the same university publicly refused to allow the discoveries of Newton to be taught; and assigned as a reason, that the system of Newton was not so consonant with revealed religion as the system of Aristotle.[1384] All over Spain, a similar plan was adopted. Everywhere, knowledge was spurned, and inquiry discouraged. Feijoo, who, notwithstanding his superstition, and a certain slavishness of mind, from which no Spaniard of that age could escape, did, on matters of science, seek to enlighten his countrymen, has left upon record his deliberate opinion, that whoever had acquired all that was taught in his time under the name of philosophy, would, as the reward of his labour, be more ignorant than he was before he began.[1385] And there can be no doubt that he was right. There can be no doubt that, in Spain, the more a man was taught, the less he would know. For, he was taught that inquiry was sinful, that intellect must be repressed, and that credulity and submission were the first of human attributes. The Duke de Saint Simon, who, in 1721 and 1722, was the French ambassador at Madrid, sums up his observations by the remark, that, in Spain, science is a crime, and ignorance a virtue.[1386] Fifty years later, another shrewd observer, struck with amazement at the condition of the national mind, expresses his opinion in a sentence equally pithy and almost equally severe. Searching for an illustration to convey his sense of the general darkness, he emphatically says, that the common education of an English gentleman would, in Spain, constitute a man of learning.[1387]

Those who know what the common education of an English gentleman was eighty years ago, will appreciate the force of this comparison, and will understand how benighted a country must have been, to which such a taunt was applicable. To expect that, under such a state of things, the Spaniards should make any of the discoveries which accelerate the march of nations, would be idle indeed; for they would not even receive the discoveries, which other nations had made for them, and had cast into the common lap. So loyal and orthodox a people had nothing to do with novelties, which, being innovations on ancient opinions, were fraught with danger. The Spaniards desired to walk in the ways of their ancestors, and not have their faith in the past rudely disturbed. In the inorganic world, the magnificent discoveries of Newton were contumeliously rejected; and, in the organic world, the circulation of the blood was denied, more than a hundred and fifty years after Harvey had proved it.[1388] These things were new, and it was better to pause a little, and not receive them too hastily. On the same principle, when, in the year 1760, some bold men in the government proposed that the streets of Madrid should be cleansed, so daring a suggestion excited general anger. Not only the vulgar, but even those who were called educated, were loud in their censure. The medical profession, as the guardians of the public health, were desired, by the government, to give their opinion. This, they had no difficulty in doing. They had no doubt that the dirt ought to remain. To remove it, was a new experiment; and of new experiments, it was impossible to foresee the issue. Their fathers having lived in the midst of it, why should not they do the same? Their fathers were wise men, and must have had good reasons for their conduct. Even the smell, of which some persons complained, was most likely wholesome. For, the air being sharp and piercing, it was extremely probable that bad smells made the atmosphere heavy, and in that way deprived it of some of its injurious properties. The physicians of Madrid were, therefore, of opinion that matters had better remain as their ancestors had left them, and that no attempts should be made to purify the capital by removing the filth which lay scattered on every side.[1389]

While such notions prevailed respecting the preservation of health,[1390] it is hardly to be supposed that the treatment of disease should be very successful. To bleed and to purge, were the only remedies prescribed by the Spanish physicians.[1391] Their ignorance of the commonest functions of the human body was altogether surprising, and can only be explained on the supposition, that in medicine, as in other departments, the Spaniards of the eighteenth century knew no more than their progenitors of the sixteenth. Indeed, in some respects, they appeared to know less. For, their treatment was so violent, that it was almost certain death to submit to it for any length of time.[1392] Their own king, Philip V., did not dare to trust himself in their hands, but preferred having an Irishman for his physician.[1393] Though the Irish had no great medical reputation, anything was better than a Spanish doctor.[1394] The arts incidental to medicine and surgery, were equally backward. The instruments were rudely made, and the drugs badly prepared. Pharmacy being unknown, the apothecaries' shops, in the largest towns, were entirely supplied from abroad; while, in the smaller towns, and in districts remote from the capital, the medicines were of such a quality, that the best which could be hoped of them was, that they might be innocuous. For, in the middle of the eighteenth century, Spain did not possess one practical chemist. Indeed, we are assured by Campomanes himself, that, so late as the year 1776, there was not to be found in the whole country a single man who knew how to make the commonest drugs, such as magnesia, Glauber's salts, and the ordinary preparations of mercury and antimony. This eminent statesman adds, however, that a chemical laboratory was about to be established in Madrid; and although the enterprise, being without a precedent, would surely be regarded as a portentous novelty, he expresses a confident expectation, that, by its aid, the universal ignorance of his countrymen would in time be remedied.[1395]

Whatever was useful in practice, or whatever subserved the purposes of knowledge, had to come from abroad. Ensenada, the well-known minister of Ferdinand VI., was appalled by the darkness and apathy of the nation, which he tried, but tried in vain, to remove. When he was at the head of affairs, in the middle of the eighteenth century, he publicly declared that in Spain there was no professorship of public law, or of physics, or of anatomy, or of botany. He further added, that there were no good maps of Spain, and that there was no person who knew how to construct them. All the maps which they had, came from France and Holland. They were, he said, very inaccurate; but the Spaniards, being unable to make any, had nothing else to rely on. Such a state of things he pronounced to be shameful. For, as he bitterly complained, if it were not for the exertions of Frenchmen and Dutchmen, it would be impossible for any Spaniard to know either the position of his own town, or the distance from one place to another.[1396]

The only remedy for all this, seemed to be foreign aid; and Spain being now ruled by a foreign dynasty, that aid was called in. Cervi established the Medical Societies of Madrid and of Seville; Virgili founded the College of Surgery at Cadiz; and Bowles endeavoured to promote among the Spaniards the study of mineralogy.[1397] Professors were sought for, far and wide; and application was made to Linnæus to send a person from Sweden who could impart some idea of botany to physiological students.[1398] Many other and similar steps were taken by the government, whose indefatigable exertions would deserve our warmest praise, if we did not know how impossible it is for any government to enlighten a nation, and how absolutely essential it is that the desire for improvement should, in the first place, proceed from the people themselves. No progress is real, unless it is spontaneous. The movement, to be effective, must emanate from within, and not from without; it must be due to general causes acting on the whole country, and not to the mere will of a few powerful individuals. During the eighteenth century, all the means of improvement were lavishly supplied to the Spaniards; but the Spaniards did not want to improve. They were satisfied with themselves; they were sure of the accuracy of their own opinions; they were proud of the notions which they inherited, and which they did not wish either to increase or to diminish. Being unable to doubt, they were, therefore, unwilling to inquire. New and beautiful truths, conveyed in the clearest and most attractive language, could produce no effect upon men whose minds were thus hardened and enslaved.[1399] An unhappy combination of events, working without interruption since the fifth century, had predetermined the national character in a particular direction, and neither statesmen, nor kings, nor legislators, could effect aught against it. The seventeenth century was, however, the climax of all. In that age, the Spanish nation fell into a sleep, from which, as a nation, it has never since awakened. It was a sleep, not of repose, but of death. It was a sleep, in which the faculties, instead of being rested, were paralyzed, and in which a cold and universal torpor succeeded that glorious, though partial, activity, which, while it made the name of Spain terrible in the world, had insured the respect even of her bitterest enemies.

Even the fine arts, in which the Spaniards had formerly excelled, partook of the general degeneracy, and, according to the confession of their own writers, had, by the beginning of the eighteenth century, fallen into complete decay.[1400] The arts which secure national safety, were in the same predicament as those which minister to national pleasure. There was no one in Spain who could build a ship; there was no one who knew how to rig it, after it was built. The consequence was, that, by the close of the seventeenth century, the few ships which Spain possessed, were so rotten, that, says an historian, they could hardly support the fire of their own guns.[1401] In 1752, the government, being determined to restore the navy, found it necessary to send to England for shipwrights; and they were also obliged to apply to the same quarter for persons who could make ropes and canvass; the skill of the natives being unequal to such arduous achievements.[1402] In this way, the ministers of the Crown, whose ability and vigour, considering the difficult circumstances in which the incapacity of the people placed them, were extremely remarkable, contrived to raise a fleet superior to any which had been seen in Spain for more than a century.[1403] They also took many other steps towards putting the national defences into a satisfactory condition; though in every instance, they were forced to rely on the aid of foreigners. Both the military and the naval service were in utter confusion, and had to be organized afresh. The discipline of the infantry was remodelled by O'Reilly, an Irishman, to whose superintendence the military schools of Spain were intrusted.[1404] At Cadiz, a great naval academy was formed, but the head of it was Colonel Godin, a French officer.[1405] The artillery, which like everything else, had become almost useless, was improved by Maritz, the Frenchman; while the same service was rendered to the arsenals by Gazola, the Italian.[1406]

The mines, which form one of the greatest natural sources of the wealth of Spain, had likewise suffered from that ignorance and apathy into which the force of circumstances had plunged the country. They were either completely neglected, or if worked, they were worked by other nations. The celebrated cobalt-mine, situated in the valley of Gistan, in Aragon, was entirely in the hands of the Germans, who, during the first half of the eighteenth century, derived immense profit from it.[1407] In the same way, the silver-mines of Guadalcanal, the richest in Spain, were undertaken, not by natives, but by foreigners. Though they had been discovered in the sixteenth century, they, as well as other matters of importance, had been forgotten in the seventeenth, and were reopened, in 1728, by English adventurers; the enterprise, the tools, the capital, and even the miners, all coming from England.[1408] Another, and still more famous, mine is that of Almaden in La Mancha, which produces mercury of the finest quality, and in great profusion. This metal, besides being indispensable for many of the commonest arts, was of peculiar value to Spain, because without it the gold and silver of the New World could not be extracted from their ores. From Almaden, where every natural facility exists for collecting it, and where the cinnibar in which it is found is unusually rich, vast supplies had formerly been drawn; but they had for some time been diminishing, although the demand, especially from foreign countries, was on the increase. Under these circumstances, the Spanish government, fearing that so important a source of wealth might altogether perish, determined to institute an inquiry into the manner in which the mine was worked. As, however, no Spaniard possessed the knowledge requisite for such an investigation, the advisers of the Crown were obliged to call on foreigners to help them. In 1752, an Irish naturalist, named Bowles, was commissioned to visit Almaden, and ascertain the cause of the failure. He found that the miners had acquired a habit of sinking their shafts perpendicularly, instead of following the direction of the vein.[1409] So absurd a process was quite sufficient to account for their want of success; and Bowles reported to the government, that if a shaft were to be sunk obliquely, the mine would, no doubt, again be productive. The government approved of the suggestion, and ordered it to be carried into effect. But the Spanish miners were too tenacious of their old customs to give way. They sank their shafts in the same manner as their fathers had done; and what their fathers had done must be right. The result was, that the mine had to be taken out of their hands; but as Spain could supply no other labourers, it was necessary to send to Germany for fresh ones.[1410] After their arrival, matters rapidly improved. The mine, being superintended by an Irishman, and worked by Germans, assumed quite a different appearance; and, notwithstanding the disadvantages with which new comers always have to contend, the immediate consequence of the change was, that the yield of mercury was doubled, and its cost to the consumer correspondingly lowered.[1411]

Such ignorance, pervading the whole nation, and extending to every department of life, is hardly conceivable, considering the immense advantages which the Spaniards had formerly enjoyed. It is particularly striking, when contrasted with the ability of the government, which, for more than eighty years, constantly laboured to improve the condition of the country. Early in the eighteenth century, Ripperda, in the hopes of stimulating Spanish industry, established a large woollen manufactory at Segovia, which had once been a busy and prosperous city. But the commonest processes had now been forgotten; and he was obliged to import manufacturers from Holland, to teach the Spaniards how to make up the wool, though that was an art for which in better days they had been especially famous.[1412] In 1757, Wall, who was then minister, constructed, upon a still larger scale, a similar manufactory at Guadalajara in New Castile. Soon, however, something went wrong with the machinery; and as the Spaniards neither knew nor cared anything about these matters, it was necessary to send to England for a workman to put it right.[1413] At length the advisers of Charles III., despairing of rousing the people by ordinary means, devised a more comprehensive scheme, and invited thousands of foreign artisans to settle in Spain; trusting that their example, and the suddenness of their influx might invigorate this jaded nation.[1414] All was in vain. The spirit of the country was broken, and nothing could retrieve it. Among other attempts which were made, the formation of a National Bank was a favourite idea of politicians, who expected great things from an institution which was to extend credit, and make advances to persons engaged in business. But, though the design was executed, it entirely failed in effecting its purpose. When the people are not enterprising, no effort of government can make them so. In a country like Spain, a great bank was an exotic, which might live with art, but could never thrive by nature. Indeed, both in its origin and in its completion, it was altogether foreign, having been first proposed by the Dutchman Ripperda,[1415] and owing its final organization to the Frenchman Cabarrus.[1416]