History of Civilization in England, Vol. 2 of 3

by Henry Thomas Buckle

That a man like Philip II., who never possessed a friend, and whose usual demeanour was of the most repulsive kind, a harsh master, a brutal parent, a bloody and remorseless ruler,—that he should be thus reverenced by a nation among whom he lived, and who had their eyes constantly on his actions; that this should have happened, is surely one of the most surprising, and, at first sight, one of the most inexplicable facts in modern history. Here we have a king who, though afflicted by every quality most calculated to excite terror and disgust, is loved far more than he is feared, and is the idol of a very great people during a very long reign. This is so remarkable as to deserve our serious attention; and in order to clear up the difficulty, it will be necessary to inquire into the causes of that spirit of loyalty which, during several centuries, has distinguished the Spaniards above every other European people.

One of the leading causes was undoubtedly the immense influence possessed by the clergy. For the maxims inculcated by that powerful body have a natural tendency to make the people reverence their princes more than they would otherwise do. And that there is a real and practical connexion between loyalty and superstition, appears from the historical fact that the two feelings have nearly always flourished together and decayed together. Indeed, this is what we should expect on mere speculative grounds, seeing that both feelings are the product of those habits of veneration which make men submissive in their conduct and credulous in their belief.[1226] Experience, therefore, as well as reason, points to this as a general law of the mind, which, in its operation, may be occasionally disturbed, but which holds good in a large majority of cases. Probably the only instance in which the principle fails is, when a despotic government so misunderstands its own interests as to offend the clergy, and separate itself from them. Whenever this is done, a struggle will arise between loyalty and superstition; the first being upheld by the political classes, the other by the spiritual classes. Such a warfare was exhibited in Scotland; but history does not afford many examples of it, and certainly it never took place in Spain, where, on the contrary, several circumstances occurred to cement the union between the Crown and the Church, and to accustom the people to look up to both with almost equal reverence.

By far the most important of these circumstances was the great Arab invasion, which drove the Christians into a corner of Spain, and reduced them to such extremities, that nothing but the strictest discipline, and the most unhesitating obedience to their leaders, could have enabled them to make head against their enemies. Loyalty to their princes became not merely expedient, but necessary; for if the Spaniards had been disunited, they would, in the face of the fearful odds against which they fought, have had no chance of preserving their national existence. The long war which ensued, being both political and religious, caused an intimate alliance between the political and religious classes, since the kings and the clergy had an equal interest in driving the Mohammedans from Spain. During nearly eight centuries, this compact between Church and State was a necessity forced upon the Spaniards by the peculiarities of their position; and, after the necessity had subsided, it naturally happened that the association of ideas survived the original danger, and that an impression had been made upon the popular mind which it was hardly possible to efface.

Evidence of this impression, and of the unrivalled loyalty it produced, crowds upon us at every turn. In no other country are the old ballads so numerous and so intimately connected with the national history. It has, however, been observed, that their leading characteristic is the zeal with which they inculcate obedience and devotion to princes, and that from this source, even more than from military achievements, they draw their most favourite examples of virtue.[1227] In literature the first great manifestation of the Spanish mind was the poem of The Cid, written at the end of the twelfth century, in which we find fresh proof of that extraordinary loyalty which circumstances had forced upon the people.[1228] The ecclesiastical councils display a similar tendency; for, notwithstanding a few exceptions, no other church has been equally eager in upholding the rights of kings.[1229] In civil legislation, we see the same principle at work; it being asserted, on high authority, that in no system of laws is loyalty carried to such extreme height as in the Spanish codes.[1230] Even their dramatic writers were unwilling to represent an act of rebellion on the stage, lest they should appear to countenance what, in the eyes of every good Spaniard, was one of the most heinous of all offences.[1231] Whatever the king came in contact with, was in some degree hallowed by his touch. No one might mount a horse which he had ridden;[1232] no one might marry a mistress whom he had deserted.[1233] Horse and mistress alike were sacred, and it would have been impious for any subject to meddle with what had been honoured by the Lord's anointed. Nor were such rules confined to the prince actually reigning. On the contrary, they survived him, and, working with a sort of posthumous force, forbade any woman whom he had taken as a wife, to marry, even after he was dead. She had been chosen by the king; such choice had already raised her above the rest of mortals; and the least she could do was to retire to a convent, and spend her life mourning over her irreparable loss. These regulations were enforced by custom rather than by law.[1234] They were upheld by the popular will, and were the result of the excessive loyalty of the Spanish nation. Of that loyalty their writers often boast, and with good reason, since it was certainly matchless, and nothing seemed able to shake it. To bad kings and to good kings it equally applied. It was in full strength amid the glory of Spain in the sixteenth century; it was conspicuous when the nation was decaying in the seventeenth century; and it survived the shock of civil wars early in the eighteenth.[1235] Indeed, the feeling had so worked itself into the traditions of the country, as to become not only a national passion, but almost an article of national faith. Clarendon, in his History of that great English Rebellion, the like of which, as he well knew, could never have happened in Spain, makes on this subject a just and pertinent remark. He says that a want of respect for kings is regarded by the Spaniards as a ‘monstrous crime;’ ‘submissive reverence to their princes being a vital part of their religion.’[1236]

These, then, were the two great elements of which the Spanish character was compounded. Loyalty and superstition; reverence for their kings and reverence for their clergy were the leading principles which influenced the Spanish mind, and governed the march of Spanish history. The peculiar and unexampled circumstances under which they arose, have been just indicated; and having seen their origin, we will now endeavour to trace their consequences. Such an examination of results will be the more important, not only because nowhere else in Europe have these feelings been so strong, so permanent, and so unmixed, but also because Spain, being seated at the further extremity of the Continent, from which it is cut off by the Pyrenees, has, from physical causes, as well as from moral ones, come little into contact with other nations.[1237] The course of affairs being, therefore, undisturbed by foreign habits, it becomes easier to discover the pure and natural consequences of superstition and loyalty, two of the most powerful and disinterested feelings which have ever occupied the human heart, and to whose united action we may clearly trace the leading events in the history of Spain.

The results of this combination were, during a considerable period, apparently beneficial, and certainly magnificent. For, the church and the crown making common cause with each other, and being inspirited by the cordial support of the people, threw their whole soul into their enterprises, and displayed an ardour which could hardly fail to insure success. Gradually advancing from the north of Spain, the Christians, fighting their way inch by inch, pressed on till they reached the southern extremity, completely subdued the Mohammedans, and brought the whole country under one rule and one creed. This great result was achieved late in the fifteenth century, and it cast an extraordinary lustre on the Spanish name.[1238] Spain, long occupied by her own religious wars, had hitherto been little noticed by foreign powers, and had possessed little leisure to notice them. Now, however, she formed a compact and undivided monarchy, and at once assumed an important position in European affairs.[1239] During the next hundred years, her power advanced with a speed of which the world had seen no example since the days of the Roman Empire. So late as 1478 Spain was still broken up into independent and often hostile states; Granada was possessed by the Mohammedans; the throne of Castile was occupied by one prince, the throne of Aragon by another. Before the year 1590, not only were these fragments firmly consolidated into one kingdom, but acquisitions were made abroad so rapidly as to endanger the independence of Europe. The history of Spain, during this period, is the history of one long and uninterrupted success. That country, recently torn by civil wars, and distracted by hostile creeds, was able in three generations to annex to her territory the whole of Portugal, Navarre, and Roussillon. By diplomacy, or by force of arms, she acquired Artois and Franche Comté, and the Netherlands; also the Milanese, Naples, Sicily, Sardinia, the Balearic Islands, and the Canaries. One of her kings was emperor of Germany; while his son influenced the councils of England, whose queen he married. The Turkish power, then one of the most formidable in the world, was broken and beaten back on every side. The French monarchy was humbled. French armies were constantly worsted; Paris was once in imminent jeopardy; and a king of France, after being defeated on the field, was taken captive, and led prisoner to Madrid. Out of Europe, the deeds of Spain were equally wonderful. In America, the Spaniards became possessed of territories which covered sixty degrees of latitude, and included both the tropics. Besides Mexico, Central America, Venezuela, New Granada, Peru, and Chili, they conquered Cuba, San Domingo, Jamaica, and other islands. In Africa, they obtained Ceuta, Melilla, Oran, Bougiah, and Tunis, and overawed the whole coast of Barbary. In Asia, they had settlements on each side of the Deccan; they held part of Malacca; and they established themselves in the Spice Islands. Finally, by the conquest of the noble archipelago of the Philippines, they connected their most distant acquisitions, and secured a communication between every part of that enormous empire which girdled the world.

In connexion with this, a great military spirit arose, such as no other modern nation has ever exhibited. All the intellect of the country which was not employed in the service of the Church was devoted to the profession of arms. Indeed, the two pursuits were often united; and it is said that the custom of ecclesiastics going to war was practised in Spain long after it was abandoned in other parts of Europe.[1240] At all events, the general tendency is obvious. A mere list of successful battles and sieges in the sixteenth and part of the fifteenth century, would prove the vast superiority of the Spaniards, in this respect, over their contemporaries, and would show how much genius they had expended in maturing the arts of destruction. Another illustration, if another were required, might be drawn from the singular fact that since the time of ancient Greece, no country has produced so many eminent literary men who were also soldiers. Calderon, Cervantes, and Lope de Vega risked their lives in fighting for their country. The military profession was also adopted by many other celebrated authors, among whom may be mentioned, Argote de Molina, Acuña, Bernal Diaz del Castillo, Boscan, Carrillo, Cetina, Ercilla, Espinel, Francisco de Figueroa, Garcilasso de la Vega, Guillen de Castro, Hita, Hurtado de Mendoza, Marmol Carvajal, Perez de Guzman, Pulgar, Rebolledo, Roxas, and Virues; all of whom bore, in this manner, unconscious testimony to the spirit by which Spain was universally pervaded.

Here, then, we have a combination which many readers will still consider with favour, and which, at the time it occurred, excited the admiration, albeit the terror, of Europe. We have a great people glowing with military, patriotic, and religious ardour, whose fiery zeal was heightened, rather than softened, by a respectful obedience to their clergy, and by a chivalrous devotion to their kings. The energy of Spain, being thus both animated and controlled, became wary as well as eager; and to this rare union of conflicting qualities we must ascribe the great deeds which have just been related. But the unsound part of a progress of this sort is, that it depends too much upon individuals, and therefore cannot be permanent. Such a movement can only last as long as it is headed by able men. When, however, competent leaders are succeeded by incompetent ones, the system immediately falls to the ground, simply because the people have been accustomed to supply to every undertaking the necessary zeal, but have not been accustomed to supply the skill by which the zeal is guided. A country in this state, if governed by hereditary princes, is sure to decay; inasmuch as, in the ordinary course of affairs, incapable rulers must sometimes arise. Directly this happens, the deterioration begins; for the people, habituated to indiscriminate loyalty, will follow wherever they are led, and will yield to foolish counsels the same obedience that they had before paid to wise ones. This leads us to perceive the essential difference between the civilization of Spain and the civilization of England. We, in England, are a critical, dissatisfied, and captious people, constantly complaining of our rulers, suspecting their schemes, discussing their measures in a hostile spirit, allowing very little power either to the Church or to the Crown, managing our own affairs in our own way, and ready, on the slightest provocation, to renounce that conventional, lip-deep loyalty, which, having never really touched our hearts, is a habit lying on the surface, but not a passion rooted in the mind. The loyalty of Englishmen is not of that sort which would induce them to sacrifice their liberties to please their prince, nor does it ever, for a moment, blind them to a keen sense of their own interests. The consequence is, that our progress is uninterrupted, whether our kings are good or whether they are bad. Under either condition, the great movement goes on. Our sovereigns have had their full share of imbecility and of crime. Still, even men like Henry III. and Charles II. were unable to do us harm. In the same way, during the eighteenth and many years of the nineteenth century, when our improvement was very conspicuous, our rulers were very incompetent. Anne and the first two Georges were grossly ignorant; they were wretchedly educated, and nature had made them at once weak and obstinate. Their united reigns lasted nearly sixty years; and after they had passed away, we, for another period of sixty years, were governed by a prince who was long incapacitated by disease, but of whom we must honestly say that, looking at his general policy, he was least mischievous when he was most incapable. This is not the place to expose the monstrous principles advocated by George III., and to which posterity will do that justice from which contemporary writers are apt to shrink; but it is certain that neither his contracted understanding, nor his despotic temper, nor his miserable superstition, nor the incredible baseness of that ignoble voluptuary who succeeded him on the throne, could do aught to stop the march of English civilization, or to stem the tide of English prosperity. We went on our way rejoicing, caring for none of these things. We were not to be turned aside from our path by the folly of our rulers, because we know full well that we hold our own fate in our own hands, and that the English people possess within themselves those resources and that fertility of contrivance by which alone men can be made great, and happy, and wise.

In Spain, however, directly the government slackened its hold, the nation fell to pieces.[1241] During that prosperous career which has just been noticed, the Spanish throne was invariably filled by very able and intelligent princes. Ferdinand and Isabella, Charles V. and Philip II., formed a line of sovereigns not to be matched in any other country for a period of equal length. By them, the great things were effected, and by their care, Spain apparently flourished. But, what followed when they were withdrawn from the scene, showed how artificial all this was, and how rotten, even to the core, is that system of government which must be fostered before it can thrive, and which, being based on the loyalty and reverence of the people, depends for success not on the ability of the nation, but on the skill of those to whom the interests of the nation are entrusted.