In the past few years there has been a growing instinct in Spain that when things have reached their worst they must begin to mend, and that the disappearance of the last vestiges of external empire will assuredly mark the real beginning of national regeneration. That Spain has been mis-governed, her Governments have been incompetent, and her official parasites insatiable is only too true, and it is scarcely to be wondered at if her people have grown dispirited, pessimistic, and distrustful of everybody except their individual selves. After himself, the Spaniard’s first pride is in his native province. Northern Spain has little interest or confidence in the South, nor the East in the West; and North, East, South, and West were, until recently, supremely indifferent to the course of events in any other quarter of the globe. But this self-concentration is gradually disappearing, the Spaniard is learning to regard himself with an “outside eye,” and the outside world with a broader sympathy. Moreover, he has come to view the resources of his country in a more practical and business-like light, catching, it may be, the reflection of the awakened interest that they are attracting among the neighbouring nations.
ELCHE, ALICANTE
For many years now, Spain has formed a great and interesting problem. In a book, published in 1884, we read as follows: “English and German papers are continually proclaiming the fact, and usually painting the situation in rosy hues; statesmen are cherishing ideas of commercial treaties, and relations of closer friendship and wider import; merchants are turning eager and inquiring eyes upon the comparatively untried ground: and speculators are fondly hoping that they have at last discovered, after many lean years, an El Dorado in Spain that shall not prove barren or unfruitful.”
That the reaction was imminent at the time the foregoing was penned cannot be doubted, but the hoped-for movement was checked by the declaration of war by the United States in 1899. The consequences of that terrible and futile struggle fell with paralysing severity upon the whole country, but the story of the war cannot be regarded as a fair test of the military prestige of her people. Nothing was wanting in the warlike impact to throw into relief the condition of the country as contrasted with the temper of her sons. All the chivalry of ancient Spain was fully displayed. Individual courage and bravery were splendidly in evidence. But they availed nothing against the nation that had made haste to take the fullest advantage of modern methods and appliances. The weakness of her fleet, the mismanagement of her military system, and the inefficiency of officialdom in every branch of the Government were laid bare, and it was from this combination of causes, and not from any degeneracy in her soldiers or lack of valour, that Spain owed her defeat.
But by this revelation the Spanish people were awakened to the fact that they were behind the times; that their forms of government were antiquated and inefficient; that all their national institutions cried aloud for re-organisation and reform. Slowly at first, but increasing in momentum as the blessings of peace made themselves felt, the forward movement has proceeded along the entire line of politics, commerce, and public affairs. But if the great work is to progress, as lovers of Spain would desire to see it, the difference that at present exists between the Spaniard, in his individual, his collective, and his official capacity must disappear. This distinction has been emphasised before, but it is so remarkable as to require a note in passing. Self-interest, which is an integral part of human nature, is, or rather was, the most highly-developed, in fact, the abnormal trait of the Spanish official. He was irregular in his methods, and grasping—irregular, because irregularity was connived at; greedy, because he was forced by the paucity of his pay to live by the perquisites of his office. In his collective capacity the Spaniard is mistrustful, strong-headed, and apt to prove unreliable. Yet, individually, the Spaniard is remarkable for the excellence of his personal and moral qualities. Truth and valour are his by heredity, his personal honour is unassailable, his graceful courtesy and air of high breeding make him a delightful companion and a valued friend. He is quick to take offence, but he never, through ignorance or tactlessness, proffers one; he is slow to bestow his confidence, but he never, without cause, withdraws it. You may trust him with your purse, your life, and your reputation. And this wonderful combination of qualities is common alike to the nobles, the townsmen, and the country people. All appear to have inherited the same dignity and grace of manner, and the same sterling moral qualities.
Borrow, who had an intimate knowledge of and admiration for the Spanish people, has declared that, in their social intercourse, no people in the world exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature than the Spaniards. Spain still retains all those old world, social, and personal graces with which poetry, painting, and romance have made the untravelled familiar. Grace is not necessarily a virtue, but it is a flower often found on the path that leads to it. And these flowers spring as naturally from racial instincts as do the more prominent traits exhibited in etiquette and statecraft. Spanish character is touched; nay, it is entirely imbued with the “grace of a day that is dead.” The very beggars, whom you encounter in every bye-way, do not lack this native grace which no mere acquirement could exhibit. The receiver of a dole regards it as a tacit acknowledgment that he is worthy of it on principle. But there is a certain charm in Spanish indolence, even in its indigence, which is as much a production of the country as are the soft skies and natural beauties that form its fitting background. The politeness of the peasantry is proverbial, but they are keenly alive to the point of an equal return of civility. Even the brigand was wont to regard himself as a great caballero: and he was often disarmed by a frank and confident air which tacitly acknowledged him on that footing. The idler pursues his vocation as if imbued with a full sense of its sufficiency, and supplements it with a grace beyond the reach of art. Truly this is a nation of nobles, and here is a foundation of national character which has in the past, and will again make the Spanish race one of the greatest powers of the world.
Will Spain revive? The problem is exercising the thoughts of all Europe—by those who do not know better the question is assumed to be also exercising the thoughts of all good Spaniards. As a matter of fact, the Spaniard is above such speculation. He knows his high destiny, and he will fulfil himself. His confidence is supreme, and it is justified. He has driven back every invader, and remains in full possession of one of the noblest countries in the world, nearly the size of France, with a climate which, if he were permitted to re-forest his plateaux, would be as good, though warmer, with the same power, if industry were set free, of producing wine, and oil, and wheat: and with deposits below the soil incomparably greater than those of his successful neighbour; and, perhaps, as rich as any country in the world. Spain, as we were recently reminded by a well-informed writer in the Spectator, is a “treasure house of minerals never yet rifled, though from the days of the Phœnicians to those of the Rio Tinto, countless speculators have been breaking into little corners and going away enriched.”
And what is her position to-day? She has 18,000,000 of people, who, if they are not as industrious as either Germans or Englishmen, will, when properly rewarded, work as energetically as any Southern race, and will save their wages. Her children are as brave as any in the world: able, if fairly led, to face any other troops, and with a special faculty at once of endurance and abstinence which scarcely any other troops possess. Seated on the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, with a nearly impenetrable frontier to the North, and only Africa to the South, she occupies, perhaps, the best position both for war and trade possessed by any European State: and will, with a decent administration and a new revenue, become once more as great a maritime Power as she was till Admiral Jervis defeated her fleet off Cape Vincent. She could not, perhaps, rule the Mediterranean; but she could, by alliances, render it impossible for any other Power to rule. Above all, she could suddenly add to her strength, not by conquest, but by wisely-applied pressure and support, the whole force of Portugal—Prim nearly achieved this. Spain might thus assume, with an increasing population, fairly rich and entirely contented, that position of a great Power, which she has never entirely lost. The potentialities of Spain justify Spanish pride.