Spanish Life in Town and Country

by L. Higgin; Eugène E. Street

With due allowance for time and circumstances, much in this passage might have been written to-day instead of nearly ninety years ago, and one cause of the difference in feeling is no doubt explained truly enough. Perhaps some shallow persons are affected by the fact that in good looks the Portuguese are as a race inferior to the Spaniards. But there is no such real difference in character as to justify an impartial observer in using a phrase so essentially galling to England's allies, of whom Napier said: "The bulk of the people were, however, staunch in their country's cause ... ready at the call of honour, and susceptible of discipline, without any loss of energy."

Throughout the whole Iberian Peninsula the main axiom of life appears to be the same: "Never do to-day what you can put off to to-morrow." On the left bank of the Guadiana it is summarised by the word mañana; on the right bank the word used is amanhã. There is only a phonetic distinction between the Spanish and the Portuguese idea. It is necessary for the traveller in these countries to keep this axiom well in mind, for it affords a clue to character and conduct the value of which cannot be over-estimated, and not only to the character and conduct of individuals, but to the whole national life of the inhabitants. In Portugal it permeates all public and municipal life, and appears to affect most especially that portion of the population who do not earn their living by manual labour. The higher one goes up the scale, the greater becomes the evidence of the ingrained habits of dilatoriness and procrastination, and so any hard work on the part of the lower class of toilers cannot be properly directed, and the commerce and industry of the country either dwindle away together, or fall into the hands of more energetic and active foreigners, who naturally carry off the profits which should be properly applied to the welfare and prosperity of the Lusitanians.

The mineral wealth and natural resources of the country are enormous, and it is really sad to contemplate the little use that is made of the one or of the other unless developed by alien energy and worked by alien capital. As regards this latter important factor, the administrative corruption and the unsound state of the national finances render it difficult to find foreign capitalists who are able and willing to embark in the industrial enterprises, the successful issue of which affords the only chance for this most interesting nation to recover something of its ancient prosperity and to once more take a position in the world worthy of the land of the hardy sailors and valiant captains who have left so imperishable a record over the earth's surface.

The intellectual life of Portugal seems to have ceased with Camoens. It is rather pathetic the way in which the ordinary educated Portuguese refers back to the great poet and to the heroic period which he commemorated. No conversation of any length can be carried on without a reference to Camoens and to Vasco da Gama. All history and all progress appear to have culminated and stopped then. Apparently nothing worthy of note has happened since. Camoens returned to Lisbon in 1569, and his great epic poem saw the light in 1572. He died in a public hospital in Lisbon in 1579 or 1580. In the latter year began the "sixty years' captivity," when Portugal became merely a Spanish province; yet there is no recollection of this—except the ingrained hatred of Spaniards and of everything Spanish—or of the shaking off the yoke in 1640, and of the battle of Amexial in 1663, where the English contingent bore the brunt of the battle, and the "Portugueses," as they are called by the author of An Account of the Court of Portugal, published in 1700, claimed the principal part of the honour. The traces of the Peninsular War have faded away, and on the lines of Torres Vedras there is scarcely any tradition of the cause of their existence. In Lisbon, indeed, there is one incident of later date than Camoens, which is considered worthy of remembrance,—the great earthquake of 1755,—but this can scarcely be looked upon as a national achievement, or a matter of intellectual development.

That Camoens is a fitting object for a nation's veneration cannot for a moment be doubted. The high encomium passed upon "the Student, the Soldier, the Traveller, the Patriot, the Poet, the mighty Man of Genius" by Burton, appears to be in no way exaggerated. The healthful influence of his life and writings has done and is still doing good in his beloved country. But though the man who in his lifetime was neglected, and who was allowed to die in the depths of poverty and misery, is now the most honoured of his countrymen, and his rank as one of the world's great poets is universally acknowledged, his labours have been to a certain extent in vain.

Not only industry, but culture, literature, and art appear to be infested with the mildew of decay. There is a good university at Coimbra, where alone, it is said, the language is spoken correctly. There is an excellent system of elementary and secondary schools, but in practice it is incomplete and subject to many abuses, like most public institutions in the country. The irregularities of the language, without authoritative spelling or pronunciation, and the best dictionary of which is Brazilian, have a bad effect upon the literature of the country.

The language, more purely Latin in its base than either of the other Latin tongues, with an admixture of Moorish, and strengthened by the admission of many words of foreign origin, introduced during the period of great commercial prosperity, possesses ample means for the expression of ideas and of shades of thought, and though it loses somewhat of the musical quality of the other languages in consequence of a rather large percentage of the nasal tones which are peculiar to it, yet it will hold its own well with the remaining members of the group.

Whatever the cause, however, there is hardly any general literature; almost the only books (not professional or technical) which are published, appear to be translations of French novels—not of the highest class. Perhaps in the study of archæology and folklore is to be found the most cultured phase of Portuguese intelligence. The Archæological Society of Lisbon strives to do good work, and has a museum with interesting relics in the old church of the Carmo, itself one of the most interesting and graceful ruins left out of the havoc caused by the great earthquake.

As might be expected under such circumstances, the newspapers are, with few exceptions, of the "rag" variety. Conducted for the most part by clever young fellows fresh from Coimbra, they are violent in their views and incorrect in their news, especially with regard to foreign intelligence. They have some influence, no doubt, but not so much as the same type of newspaper in France. The habitual want of veracity of the Portuguese character is naturally emphasised in the newspapers, and no one in his senses would believe any statement made in them.

A sure sign of the decadence of intellectual life, as well as of commercial activity, is to be found in the postal service, with its antiquated methods and imperfect arrangements. It is administered in a happy-go-lucky manner, which amuses at the same time that it annoys. Truly, with the post-office, it is well constantly to repeat to one's self the phrase: "Patience! all will be well to-morrow!" Probably it won't be well; but none but a foolish Englishman or Frenchman or German will bother about such a little matter.