Glories of Spain

by Charles W. Wood

In the afternoons, if the Rambla gained a charm it also lost one. The flower-stalls disappeared with their picturesque and pretty flower-sellers. Empty spaces remained, looking forlorn and neglected. Great masses of blossom that delighted the eye and scented the early morning were no more. Here the red and white camellias flourish in the open air, but are by no means given away, as they were almost given away in Valencia. Barcelona has its price for flowers as for everything else.

All this, the reader will say, belongs to the modern element. The splendid outlines of Gerona; the old-world houses, with their ancient ironwork and Gothic windows; the Anselmos, Rosalies, Delormais' of Barcelona—where were they?

Conspicuous by their absence. With the exception of a few narrow tortuous streets, Barcelona is essentially modern. Even these picturesque thoroughfares are distinguished by discomfort, a shabby air, and little beauty of outline. In the Rambla you might almost fancy yourself on a Paris boulevard. Barcelona has increased so rapidly that all the new part, including the rich suburb of Gracia—its West-End—is twice as large as the old. All its great buildings are modern; and modern, though specially bright and engaging, is the scene of its port and harbour.

Yet with few vestiges of age, Barcelona has an historical past. In both a religious and military sense, she has played her part in the annals of Spain. More than one document in the archives of Samancas holds records to her honour and glory.

Her days are said to go back to four centuries before Rome, and tradition credits Hercules with her foundation. Two hundred years later, under the Romans, it became a city, and about the year 400 A.D. began to prosper. Tarragona was the capital when the Moors destroyed it, and Barcelona, wise in its generation, yielded to the conquerors and succeeded as chief town. In the ninth century it was ruled by a Christian chief of its own under the title of Count of Barcelona, merged later on into that of King of Aragon.

But it was in the Middle Ages that Barcelona was great, and these Middle Ages have left their mark on her ecclesiastical history. Powerful, she used her power well; rich, she spent wisely.

At that time, she divided with Italy the commerce of the East, practically the commerce of the world. She was the terror of the Mediterranean. Trade was her sheet-anchor. The Castilians held trade in contempt, and suffered in consequence; Barcelona, proud of her commerce, flourished. Her name was great in Europe. The city became famous for wealth and learning, a rendezvous of kings, the resort of fashion, voluptuous in its tastes. Ferdinand and Isabella especially loved it, though self-indulgence played little part in their lives. Here in 1493 they received Columbus after his famous voyage of discovery.

Yet this very connection with Castile led to the decline of Barcelona. In her policy she has never been consistent, otherwise than consistently selfish. Now and then, to keep up her prestige, she has claimed the aid of a foreign power, only to throw it off when her turn was served. Diplomacy, but not gratitude, has been her strong point—and sometimes she has overreached herself.