Old Spain and new Spain

Front matter

OLD SPAIN AND NEW SPAIN BY HENEY M. FIELD, D.D. AUTHOB OP " FROM THE LAKES OF KILLAENEY TO THE GOLDEN HOBN," "FEOM EGYPT TO JAPAN," "ON THE DESEET," "AMONG THE HOLT HILLS," AND "THE GREEK ISLANDS AND TURKEY AFTER THE WAR." NEW YORK CHARLES SCEIBNEE'S SONS COPYEIGHT, 1888, BY CHAELES SCBIBNEE'S SONS. TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. There is a luck in being born. It must have been a good star that shone upon the day of my birth, since it was the same in which you came into the world, for which you are sometimes pleased to speak of me as a twin-brother. But I can only think of you as an elder brother, conceding to you the precedence by which you got the start of me at the very beginning of life, and have kept it ever since. I have always looked up to you as both an older and a wiser man, and have been content to follow in your steps.

One of the good ways in which you have gone before, and I have followed after, has led me to the pleasant land of Spain, of which you have written in such a delightful man ner as almost to discourage further description, except that the field is so rich that there is always something for the latest gleaner. As you look back lingeringly to those re ceding shores, you may welcome even these light sketches of a land that is dear to us both. And now, as we began the race of life together, let us keep on with even pace to the end, to lie down at last on the warm breast of the same grand old Commonwealth, you by the sea and I among the hills, content if it may be truly said that we were not unworthy sons of such a mother. HENRY M. FIELD.

Preface

. On the night of the 14th of December, 1886, the Cortes in Madrid was crowded to hear Castelar. It was a critical moment. There had just been an insurrection, which had nearly proved a revolution. This sinister event led some to take gloomy views of the future of the country. Cas telar was more hopeful, and to justify his confidence he reviewed the history of Spain since he had been on the stage, in the course of which he recalled this startling remi niscence : that less than twenty years ago Senor Sagasta, the Prime Minister, to whom he pointed sitting at the head of the ministerial bench ; and Senor Martos, the President of the chamber ; and himself — icere all under sentence of death ! To-day these proscribed men, condemned for no crime but that of loving their country too well, are the leaders of Spain.

Sagasta is the head of the government ; Martos is the first man of the chamber ; and Castelar, though in the opposition, as he is a Republican, is the great orator and tribune of the people. This single fact shows how wide is the gulf that separates Old Spain from New Spain — the land of tyrants, of Charles Y. and Philip II., from the land of freedom. To set these contrasts in sharp relief, and thus place the Dead Past alongside of the Living Present, is the object of this little volume, by which the writer hopes to engage the interest of his American readers for a country which has had a great history, and which may have a not less glorious future. CONTENTS. I. In Sight of the Pybenees. Pau and Loubdeb 9 II. BlABBITZ. CBOSSING THE BoEDEB 20 III. San Sebastian. The Basques and the Caelist Was. . . 23 IV, TftE Biethplace of Ignatius Loyola 39 V. Bubgos : The Cathedeal and Monasteey 62 TI.

Inteoduction to the Capital 78 VII. The Queen Regent and the little King 91 VIII. The Coetes. Debate on the Late Insueeection 101 IX. Castelab 117 X. The Decadence of Spain. The Inquisition 137 XI. A Revolution. Foub Expeeiments of Govebnment. . . . 151 XII. The Escoeial. Philip II. The Bubial-place of Kings. 168 XIII. The City of Toledo 191 XIV. The City and Mosque of Cobdova 204 XV. The Alhambea. The last Sigh of the Mooe 213 XVI. The Abchbishop of Geanada 228 XVII. Peotestantism and Religious Libeety 238 XVIII. Midnight Mass in the Cathedeal of Sdville 261 XIX. PlCTUBES AND PALACES, BULL-FIGHTS AND BEGGAES 275 XX. Spain and Fbance. The Don Quixote of To-day

Chapter I. In Sight Op The

PYRENEES— PAU AND LOURDES. Spain may be said to begin as soon as we come in sight of the Pyrenees; and no sooner did that chain of moun tains show itself above the horizon, than I felt that I was coming into a presence which should not be too suddenly approached. I do not like to rush into a new country, but would linger on its borders, taking a distant view, before entering on the unknown : esj)ecially with a country like Spain, which (strangely as it may sound) begins in France. For, though the Pyrenees divide the two countries, and he who stands on their ridge can look down into both, yet the mountains are more Spanish than French. The tide of invasion and conquest has flowed and reflowed through their passes from Hannibal to Napoleon, so that their populations have become intermingled ; and to this day the Basques, the most ancient people of Spain, are numerous in the French province of the Lower Pyrenees as well as along the shores of the Bay of Biscay.

The Autumn of 1886 had nearly gone : it was almost the very last day, that I came from Paris to Bordeaux, from which I might have gone on directly to Bayonne, and in a few hours been in Spain. But I could not pass BORDEAUX. 10 the fourth city in France — Bordeaux ranking next to Paris, Lyons, and Marseilles. "We did not arrive till after sunset, but as we rode across the long bridge which spans the Garonne, and saw the lights reaching far up and down the river, and afterwards rode through the streets and squares, we saw enough to show us how large and beautiful it was. As a port it has not the same ad vantage as Havre, in being directly on the sea. It is ap proached by a river, but so is New Orleans, so is Liver pool, so is London itself. The Garonne broadens as it approaches the sea, and forms a basin in which a whole navy might find shelter.

It was crowded with ships from every part of the world, including steamers from almost every European, and from some transatlantic, ports. Bor deaux has always had a close connection with America. Here Franklin landed more than a hundred years ago, when he came to seek the aid of France in our War of Independence — a pleasant memory to an American that evening, as he walked about the brilliantly lighted city. The next morning, as the train left very early, I had to rise while it was yet dark. The lamps were still burning as I rode through the silent streets ; but the dawn was beginning to appear, with the promise of a beautiful day, and the masts of the shipping stood up tall and clear against the sky. For an hour or two, as we keep southward, the land scape is cheerless almost to desolation.

No part of France is more dreary than the Landes — those long stretches of unbroken plain, grown up with pines. But as you turn eastward, and bear away from the coast, the change is complete. The monotonous landscape gives place to an undulating region, where pleasant villages, with their thatched roofs, and the one church tower rising out from among the trees, indicate that we "are entering that beau- PAU 11 tiful portion of Southern France which lies along the slopes of the Pyrenees. As we advance nearer to the mountains, we come into their very shadows, which the southern sun casts northward into the valleys of France. Under those mighty shadows we feel that we are indeed in the presence of a new country and a new people. One o'clock brought us to Pau. The train stops beside the Gave, a river issuing from the mountains, which, when swollen by the melting snows, becomes a torrent that carries destruction in its path.

Above the river-bed rises a hill a hundred feet high, that furnishes the mag nificent site of the town. Here it stands on a broad terrace looking southward, so that it at once faces the mountains, and gets the full force of the Winter sun. Climbing the steep ascent, I was soon installed in the Hotel de France, in a room which took in the whole view, embracing the valley bounded by the Coteaux (or as we should say, the Foot Hills), beyond which rose the long line of the Pyrenees. What a vision ! I had not seen such a sight since that day, never to be forgotten, when I stood on the lower range of the Himalayas at sunrise, and looked away a hundred miles to the awful heights which form the backbone of Asia. A comparison which will be familiar to a greater number of my readers who have travelled in Switzerland, is the view from Berne of the Bernese Oberland.

But there is no need of compari son. That glittering chain of snow-covered peaks in stantly fascinates the eye — a fascination which I enjoyed without an interruption. For three days that I was in Pau, the view was not once obscured. I had it by sun rise and sunset — I cannot say by moonlight (for it was not the time of the full moon), when the effect must be still greater, as the silent peaks stand like sentinels keep ing their midnight watch along the heavenly battlements. PAU Besides its picturesque situation, Pau is a place of great historical interest. It has one of the grandest castles in France, five centuries old, in which Henry IV. was born, and where they still show his cradle. It is hard to think of a King, whose figure we are accustomed to see on mon uments and statues, clad in mail, as a baby that was rocked in this pretty shell !

But here he was carried about in his nurse's arms, and played under the trees, and grew to boyhood and manhood, till he became the great " Henry of Navarre," whose " white plume " was always in the front of battle. The grounds about the castle are laid out in pretty walks, which in the season are thronged with, strangers from many countries, most of all by the English, who are attracted by the climate, which is as soft as at any place on the Riviera. Every Winter there is a large English colony, with its English church and its English club ; with the usual accompaniment of parties and balls and races ; by which those who cannot exist without such excitement, keep up a perpetual round of gaiety. Happily the place is not confined to them. Others of a more quiet turn can enjoy the delicious climate, and the excursions through the valleys and over the hills, and even (if they so incline) to the tops of the mountains.

How beautiful all this country is, I too felt one soft, summery afternoon, when I took a ride across the river to the top of the neigh boring hills. These Coteaux lie not parallel to the river, but at right angles to it, and in ridges, up which the car riage climbed slowly, winding hither and thither to gain the ascent, from which we looked down into deep valleys on either side, richly cultivated ; while in every direction were seen the chateaux of wealthy Frenchmen or English men (one was pointed out to me that had been recently purchased by an American lady), who make it their retreat REFORMERS BEFORE THIS REFORMATION. 13 for the Winter. The pleasure of the excursion was greatly increased by the company of the daughter of the pastor of the French church, with her sister-in-law, the wife of another pastor of an ancient church in the Pyrenees, which, in spite of all trials and persecutions, has kept its faith unstained for hundreds of years.

This southern part of France has a history which ought to be known by every Protsstant. We are now in ancient Languedoc, which, with Provence farther to the east, formed the country of the Albigenses, who were Reformers before the Reformation, holding that faith hundreds of years be fore Luther was born. They were a people refined and cultivated, having made great progress in science and learning and the arts. Says Macaulay in his famous re view of Ranke's History of the Popes : " This country, singularly favored by nature, was in the twelfth century the most flourishing and civilized portion of Western Europe. It was in no wise a part of France. It had a distinct political existence, a distinct national character, distinct usages, and a distinct speech. The soil was fruitful and well cultivated, and amidst the cornfields and vineyards arose many rich cities, each of which was a little republic ; and many stately castles, each of which contained a miniature of an Imperial Court.

It was there that the spirit of chivalry first laid aside its terrors, first took a humane and graceful form, first appeared as the inseparable associate of art and literature, of courage and love. . . . " The language of Provence was already the language of the learned and polite, and was employed by numerous writers, stu dious of all the arts of composition and versification. A literature rich in ballads, in war-songs, in satire, and above all in amatory poetry, amused the leisure of the knights and ladies whose fortified mansions adorned tho banks of tho Rhone and Garonne. With civilization had come freedom of thought. . . . " The danger to the hierarchy was indeed formidable. Only one transalpine nation had emerged from barbarism, and that nation had thrown off all respect for Rome. Only one of the EXTERMINATION OF THE ALBIGENSES. 14 vernacular languages of Europe had yet been extensively em ployed for literary purposes, and that language was a machine in the hands of heretics.

The geographical position of the secta ries made the danger peculiarly formidable. They occupied a central region communicating directly with France, with Italy, and with Spain. The provinces which were still untainted, were separated from each other by this infected district. Under these circumstances, it seemed probable that a single generation would suffice to spread the reformed doctrine to Lisbon, to London, and to Naples. But this was not to be. Rome cried for help to the warriors of Northern France. She appealed at once to their superstition and their cupidity. ... A war, distinguished even among wars of religion by its merciless atrocity, destroyed the Albigensian heresy, and with that heresy the prosperity, the civ ilization, the literature, the national existence, of what was once the most opulent and enlightened part of the great European family."

This was one of the greatest calamities recorded in the annals of Europe. Those students of history who see every thing through a veil of optimism, may argue, by some mysterious process of reasoning which they do not ex plain, that such reverses are in the end for the good of mankind. I cannot see it so. To me the crushing out of the Albigenses, their faith and their civilization, was an unspeakable calamity to France and to the world. It was so much lost in the influences which lift up a nation — a set-back in the advance of humanity which is only re covered in the lapse of ages. What sort of faith was substituted for that which was destroyed, one has a good opportunity to see here, as it is but a two-hours' ride from Pau to Lourdes, the most famous place of pilgrimage in Europe. I gave up a fore noon to pay it a visit.

As an excursion it was delightful. The morning was cool ; a hoar-frost lay on the ground, which slowly dissolved with the rising of the sun ; and the air grew warmer till we had a perfect Indian-Summer LOURDES. 15 day. Though it was near the beginning of Winter, the men, and the women also, were at work in the fields. As the peasants universally wear the flat caps worn by the Scotch, they might be taken for Highlanders. The position of Lourdes is one of the most picturesque that can be imagined. It lies in a deep valley, nestled at the foot of the mountains, at one end of which is the famous grotto, in which a young girl of the village is said to have received some years ago a visit from the Virgin Mary ! She told her story to her family and neighbors, who went to see the heavenly visitant, but saw nothing.

Nevertheless, the girl, when she went alone, was favored with repeated interviews. Such was her story, to which she adhered till she died. For a time it passed as a child's tale. But at length' it dawned on the minds of some priests — whether cunning or credulous I will not presume to say — that here was the nucleus for a great revival of faith ; and accordingly the miraculous visitation was declared to be authentic, and the devout flocked to the spot in great numbers. In the first six months there were a hundred and fifty thousand pdgrims. In a few years there rose over the grotto a stately church, which, large as it is, was all too small for the multitudes who came from all parts of Europe' to obtain, not only spiritual grace, but "gifts of healing." The grounds about it were laid out like those of a large watering-place, which must provide for the influx of a multitude without number.

When there is a great pilgrimage, the enthusiasm rises to a pitch of wild excitement. The church is crowded at all hours of the day, and far into the night. All the approaches are blocked up, and not unfrequently the hillside is covered with a dense mass of kneeling pilgrims. The scene is very impressive, especially at night, when a vast proces sion moves up the hill, bearing lights and singing hymns THE CHURCH. 16 with a spirit that is thrilling. Dr. Vincent, in his charming volume " In the Shadow of the Pyrenees," says that he was himself so moved that he joined the swelling chorus that waked the echoes of the hills. Of all this I saw nothing, for " the season " was over, the pilgrims had come and gone ; but the church was there, a visible sign of the devotion that " the visitation " has inspired.

As I approached the door, a couple of women dressed in black (who seemed to disguise their occupation as beggars by assuming the dress of a Sisterhood) appealed in a whining tone for alms, offering " to light a candle for me " (of which they had a dozen in their hands) " before the shrine of the Virgin." Preferring to get whatever spiritual benefit there might be for myself, I entered and found the large church richly decorated, its arches hung with banners, and its walls literally covered with inscriptions of gratitude for miraculous deliverances. WTien the flood-tide of pilgrims is at its height, the press is relieved in part by an overflow from the church into the crypt below, where there are numerous altars at which masses are being constantly said, and confessionals at which priests are hearing penitents and giving absolution.

But with all this squeezing together of compact masses of humanity, the space is so utterly inadequate that the faithful are now building another church, not in place of the old, but in addition to it. It stands in front of the former, but as it is on a lower level, does not hide it from view. Circular in shape, it is set within the wide-embracing arms of two im mense flights of steps that sweep round the hill, leading to the church above. The walls are of great thickness, which, with the massive pillars, will support a dome like that of the Pantheon in Rome, through which the dim light will fall on thousands of pilgrims kneeling on the ample pave ment, and making the arches ring with their Ave Marias. THE GROTTO. 17 After seeing the church, I asked the way to the grotto, when a young priest who was about to visit it offered to conduct me.

As we passed the door, he dipped his hand in the holy water and extended it to me. I awkwardly gave him the back of my hand, but he still held his hand suspended, when I turned to him an open palm, and received the sacred touch upon one of my finger-tips. I hope it did me good. In the grotto only a few were kneeling, but evidently with the most fervent devotion. It was hung with crutches cast away by the cripples, whose limbs had been miraculously restored. I looked on, of course, with proper respect, and as I turned away took one of the tin cups that are placed below the fountain for the service of pilgrims, and drank of the water. It was pure and sweet, like that of one of our New England springs " that run among the hills," though I did not detect in it any miraculous virtue, nor feel made in any wise stronger or better by it.

Nor could I discover why anybody should drink it so eagerly, or carry it away, as having an efficacy which no other " waters of Israel " could supply. And yet it is regularly bottled up bike any mineral water, Vichy or Apollinaris, and sent to all parts of the world. Evidently " the business " is " worked for all it is worth." Looking at it as rehgious worship, one is struck with the way in which all homage and adoration, as well as thanks giving, is made to centre, not in God nor in Christ, but in the Virgin Mary, to whom every inscription is addressed, with thanks for spiritual grace, or for restoration from some incurable malady. The repetition of this form of pious devotion strikes a Protestant painfully, as if she were the only source through which blessings from God could be obtained.

He who is the everlasting Son of the Father, is put quite in the background, if not entirely for- HOMAGE TO THE VIRGIN. 18 gotten, in the chorus of supplication and of thanksgiving to His human mother. After reading these inscriptions to satiety, it was a relief to leave the church, and climb the neighboring hill, which is surmounted by a colossal cruci fix, on which appears the body of our Lord. Here at least was something which spoke, not of Mary, but of her greater Son ; and looking up to that Divine Sufferer, I found myself repeating with an energy made more intense by the contrast with the Ave Marias in the church below : " Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly ! " • I have no wish to speak lightly of the faith of any of my fellow-beings. So long as it gives comfort to any poor, stricken human heart, let them keep it and enjoy it.

Yet if asked what I think of all this, I must say in all frank ness that it seems to me the extreme of superstition, founded on a tale as absurd as ever imposed on the credulity of mankind. Yet as Macaulay well argues, beliefs in the supernatural are not subject to the ordinary rules of evidence, and men of intelligence who use their understand ing in their business affairs, will accept without question the most childish tales, and proceed to construct on them a system of religious faith. "But the bodily healings, the wonderful cures, what have you to say to these ? " I have nothing to say to them until I know more about them, or can know without some personal investigation. I certainly do not accept the stories told by the invalids themselves, for there is nothing on which men and women are more liable to be deceived than their own bodily condition.

It is hard to set limits to the power of the mind over the body. A sudden emotion of fear may stop the action of the heart so as to cause instant death without a blow, or any apparent cause, external or internal. So a powerful action of the mind, PAINFUL IMPRESSION. 19 a strong hope of relief, may produce such a reaction upon the, system as shall have a restoring power that might almost bring the dead to life. All this is familiar to phy sicians, and involves no miracle whatever. Further, there is something very revolting in the way in which the whole thing is turned into a speculation. It has become the business of the town. It brings pilgrims by tens of thousands into the little place every year, who depart leaving large sums of money behind them. And the priests who flock to the scene, find it a convenient means of restoring the faith that was growing weaker and weaker.

Thus the whole affair is managed apparently with a double purpose : with the cool calculation of busi ness, and all the resources of superstition. On the whole, tho impression was very painful. Not only did it not strengthen my rehgious faith, but it pro voked a reaction, which tended strongly to throw me into a state of unbelief. If anything could make me a skeptic, it would be to witness such scenes as this. As I turned away, I had to struggle anew against doubts, from which I could recover only by confessing : " Lord, I believe : help Thou mine unbelief " ; and as I rode back to Pau, won dering at all that I had seen, I could but fear that it should make me a worse rather than a better man ; and again and again did I whisper to myself : " O my God ! in this darkness and tumult of the mind ; and in all the doubts and fears that beset this mortal state ; let me never fall from Thee 1 " CHAPTER n. BIARRITZ— CROSSING THE BORDER.

" In that sunny corner where the waves of the Bay of Biscay wash over a sandy barrier, and mingle with the waters of the Bidassoa stream " (so begins a recent novel, the scene of which is laid in Pau), " they tell the ancient story that a favored mortal won from the gods permission to ask three blessings for Spain. He asked that her sons should be brave, her daughters beautiful, and her government good. The first two were granted, but the third refused : for," said the answer, " already she is an earthly paradise, and were this last blessing hers, the very gods themselves would desert Elysium, and go down to dwell in Spain." Leaving this pretty fancy to take care of itself, I was content, having left Pau in the morning, to find myself in the afternoon " in that sunny corner of the Bay of Biscay," which seems to unite all the charms of land and sea.

Having to wait some hours at Bayonne for the train which was to bring me into Spain, I took a carriage and drove out five miles on a long, straight avenue to Biarritz — a sheltered nook, that looks out upon a horizon partly of mountains and partly of the sea, To the south is the long THE BAY OF BISCAY. 21 line of the Spanish coast, piled with mountains as far as the eye can reach, while in front " the watery plain " fills up the foreground of the picture. It is a rugged coast, even here where we stand in France, against which the waves have been beating for thousands of years, till the very rocks are honeycombed with arches and caverns, into which the waters rush and roar. The Bay of Biscay has an ill reputation among mari ners as well as landsmen. If it be not quite so vicious as the British Channel, yet as there is more of it, the agonies it produces are longer ; so that it has had, and still has, the maledictions of the tens of thousands who are com pelled to pass over it on their way to the Mediterranean.

The cause of this is apparent at a glance on the map. The "Bay" of Biscay is not a land-locked harbor like the Bay of Naples or of New York, but is only partly enclosed by two enormous projections of the Continent, terminating at Brest in France and Cape Finisterre in Spain (the very name of which imports that it was once looked upon as the end of the habitable globe), into which powerful currents and the western gales drive the waters of the Atlantic till they seethe and whirl hke one vast maelstrom. And yet this tempestuous Bay, which is the very home of storms and wrecks, was to-day as calm as any Summer sea, and as I looked out upon it from the cliffs, it seemed tranquil enough to tempt the most timid voyager, and as I went down to the beach, and walked along the sands, its waves came rippling gently to my feet.

With such natural sublimity and beauty all round it, and the sunshine that even in mid- Winter lingers in this " sunny corner of the Bay of Biscay," near the very spot where " its waves mingle with the waters of the Bidassoa stream," I do not wonder that Biarritz should have become a favorite resort for English families fleeing from the rigors THE VILLA EUGENIE. of their northern chmate. The great hotels perched on the bluff, with their many windows open to the south, drink in all the sunshine of the short Winter day, and the shivering Britons feel a warmth which they could not find in their own beloved but stormy islands. Biarritz acquired its greatest celebrity a few years since, as a favorite retreat of the Emperor Napoleon, who was wont to come here at the beginning of Autumn and spend the month of September, during which time the Uttle town was the seat of the French Government, when the spectacle of Ministers and Ambassadors arriving and departing gave animation to its streets.