History of Civilization in England, Vol. 2 of 3

by Henry Thomas Buckle

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]