equal to the enterprise, and which European explorers could scarcely be expected to exercise in the case of the Peninsula. For if it be true that they who have done the wrong can never forgive, Spain can expect neither mercy nor justice from the rest of the continent to which she belongs. These remarks occurred to us when we were perusing the pleasing relation of Mr. Wallis' travels. How much more appropriate are they now, that Mr. Ticknor's work, a prodigy of labor and learning, has displayed to the world the hidden wealth of Spanish literature. We can hardly be brought to believe in the eclipse which has fallen upon the glory of Castile, when we look at the wonderful works of art she has produced in spite of Inquisition and tyranny; when we remember the tremendous energies she has put forth under the most discouraging adversity; when we consider that even now, under the pressure of governmental mismanagement and injudicious, or even unrighteous laws, her manufactures are struggling hopefully for success; when we reflect that, in her utmost hour of need, she has always given birth to some worthy son providentially commissioned to save her. We can hardly have faith in the decline of the land of the Campeador and Zumala Carreguy. Yet there is no denying that she presents, at this moment, a lamentable picture of degeneracy and political insignificance. Perhaps ethnology might solve the problem, and reconcile the apparent contradiction by pointing out, side by side with the decay of the Visigothic population, (which, like all mongrels, must speedily pass away), the resurrection of the ancient Iberian spirit, the inextinguishable vitality that marks all aboriginal stocks, and the future redemption of classical Hispania by the descendants of those who so long resisted the Carthaginian and the Roman armies.

But considerations of such a nature would carry us too far, and we must be content to view the Spaniards as they now appear to us, without distinction of race or breed-precisely as one who studies their literature need spend no time in distinguishing what portions of their language

are derived from the Basque, and what from the Latin. Nor is this the only consideration that applies equally to the habits and the written works of a people. In all countries, national character and literature are found to keep pace together, the latter as the exponent of the former, and both impressed with kindred features. In Spain it is preeminently so, and the peculiarities both of their school of art of their temperament, present a family resemblance that shows them, at one glance, derived alike from the same circumstances.

From the age of Count Julian to that of the Cid, during which all of the Visigothic race that yet retained any of the manhood of their barbarous progenitors had sought a refuge among the mountains of the interior, where they acquired fresh energy in a more laborious mode of life, and perhaps fresh vitality from admixture with the aboriginal race, what a rude training for the language and the character of the Spaniards. The pure Latin which they spoke, now tainted with Moorish and Basque, sank into a confused chaos, from which the sonorous Castilian afterwards arose. For in idioms, as elsewhere, decay and corruption contain within themselves the germs of life.

Nor could the exiles of Valencia and Toledo forget, in the rugged fastnesses of Biscay and the Asturias, the fair inheritance which the victorious Crescent had wrested from the Cross. As soon as they had recovered from their first consternation, they commenced that unrelenting warfare to the knife, which they pursued with indomitable energy until the blood of Tolosa had washed out the disgrace of Roderick. It was during this desperate hand-to-hand conflict, which lasted five or six centuries, that the Spanish language and the Spanish national character were formed. What wonder if both present some rugged features; what wonder if the idiom is less soft than the Tuscan, and the temper of the people full of enthusiastic exaggerations. A nation, born, as it were, on the field of battle, might well be expected to possess some of the less amiable attributes of the warlike character, and after spending her adolescence in a fierce religious contest, might be forgiven if religious intolerance sometimes mingled with her religious feeling. These circumstances affected Spanish art; for the hereditary ene

my of the Moor scorned to believe by halves, | and embraced, with the same fervor of exalted faith, the Athanasian creed and the traditionary legends, the divine mission and the story of the portrait which Christ sent to King Abgarus, the mysterious atonement on the Cross, and the genuineness of the letter of Proconsul Lentulus to the Roman Senate, containing a description of the personal appearance of the Saviour.

Hence, the fine arts in Spain took a tone of intense fervor and severe simplicity, carried, as every thing else in that land of ultraism, to extreme exaggeration. Certain types obtained, by universal consent, the authority of law, and woe to the rebel whom the Inquisition caught departing from precedent. The canonized lived again on canvas or in marble, in their own true repulsiveness of penitential sanctity, with profuse and heavy drapery, with features emaciated by privations and composed in the rigid callousness of devotional contemplation. But never was the heaven-born inspiration of beauty admitted to gild the dreams of the Spanish artist, or to animate his creations. Never did the chisel or the brush, in that land of formal decorousness, disrobe the human form, that embodiment of the divine essence, to show the admirable symmetry of its proportions. Seldom was the fair face of nature found sitting for her portrait to a genuine son of Castile; so that Spanish art, with all its warmth of feeling and its ardent temperament, became confined to the narrowest channel, and preying upon itself, fell, as it were, into a monomania. Portraits of solemn friars, grim warriors, and stiff, haughty courtiers, legends of impossible miracles, formed, together with the more impressive episodes of the history of Christianity, the entire staple of painting and sculpture in the Peninsula. It was not uncommon for the Church, the most liberal patron of arts at one time,-in her contracts with artists, to impose upon them, as on one occasion was the case with Navarette, the condition" that they should adhere strictly to Spanish orthodoxy and avoid the introduction of any Italian accessories or theological improprieties."

Since Marshal Soult robbed Spain of her master-pieces, the world has learned to appreciate and admire the works of Murillo, Domenico el Greco, and Herra

ra, and many others almost unknown before. The due amount of technical cant has been expended to illustrate their merits. And for a straight-forward, scholarlike account of some of the chief monuments of Spanish art, we unhesitatingly refer the reader to the work whose title stands at the head of this paper.

But it is in the literature, and even in the very essence of the language of Spain, that the influence of the circumstances attending their growth can more obviously and curiously be traced. An undertone of heroic pomp may be distinctly felt in both, and though less consonant with the present condition of the country than it was with the splendors of Charles V., it harmonizes gracefully enough with "that allrespecting self-respect which it is a miracle not to find in the bearing of a Spaniard, be he high or low," to quote a judicious remark of Mr. Wallis.

The name of that elegant writer reminds us that we have been digressing over much from the consideration of his work. Driven to travel by the delicate state of his health, he resolved to visit Spain. A short stay in Barcelona furnished him with materials for several very interesting chapters. From one of these we will make free to offer a few extracts, partly because we feel a presentiment that from Catalonia will rise the spirit which is destined to regenerate Spain, but chiefly because we think that, while but little is known in regard to the rest of the Peninsula, nothing at all is known concerning this particular section of it. "The Catalans, as all the world knows, have been famous, from their earliest history, for industry, intelligence, energy, obstinacy and combativeness; fond alike of freedom and money, they have seldom lost an opportunity of asserting the one, or scraping up the other. They were always among the foremost to bully or rebel against an unruly king, in the times when such performances were more perilous than at present; and in these days of pronunciamientos, they will get you up a civil war, or regale themselves with a bombardment, upon as short notice as the gamins of Paris require to break down an old dynasty or blow up a new one. Their physiognomy and general bearing show you, unequivocally and at once, that they are a sturdy, manly, independent people. They are quiet and grave, upon

the promenades and in the public places, but they have an air of doggedness about them which strikes you at first, as peculiar to individuals, but which you soon find to be almost universal. The common people, in their provincial dress, look sullen and fierce. Their sandals and girded loins give them a pilgrim air, as of men from far countries, and their harsh, grating dialect seems no improper vehicle for the expression of their habitual turbulence. Nevertheless, you see few beggars and no idlers among them. They are doing something always, and doing it in good earnest, as if they took pleasure as well as profit, to consist, chiefly, in occupation. The Infante Don Gabriel (one of the few among the later Bourbons, who have had capacity enough to say or do anything sensible) was the author of some clever verses, descriptive of the several provincial characteristics of his countrymen. Of the Catalans, he says, among other things, that they are able" hacer, de las piedras, panes," to convert stones into bread; and, indeed, when we look into the rugged soil which they have subdued into fertility, and the constancy and patient industry with which they give themselves to the severest labor upon land and sea, we must concede that, even if they be, as their countrymen alledge, the most querulous and exacting of the provincial family, it is from no reluctance to put their own shoulders to the wheel, that they call so often upon Hercules. Some travellers say that they are uncivil to strangers, my experience was entirely to the contrary. Their courtesy, though not exuberant, I found both ready and cordial. True, as I have said, their manners are, in general, reserved, and their speech is laconic, but the ice is soon broken, and their intelligence and general cleverness repay the trouble amply.

"The Catalan is no favorite with his brethren of the other provinces. They have sundry hard names for him, which are more expressive than delicate, "Cerrado como pie de mula" (contracted, close, like a mule's hoof), is the proverbial phrase into which they have compressed their idea of his character. John Bull, too, has his say in the premises. The Catalans, according to his notion, are selfish, greedy of gain and monopoly, fierce foes to that glorious system of free-trade, of which Eng

| land is now the apostle to the custom-house gentiles, and which, sooner or later, is to be rounded with some sort of a millenium. John Bull, therefore, denounces them, in all the terms, measured and unmeasured, which such heterodoxy on their part deserves, and when his wrath is especially kindled, as some pet Spanish scheme of his falls through, he wreaks himself upon expression and calls them the "Yankees of Spain." In all his endeavors to negotiate commercial treaties, and break down the restrictive system which the Catalans particularly affect, he is influenced, he gives you his honor, by none but the most benevolent and unselfish considerations. France may have some motive of her own in pulling down Espartero and putting up Narvaez, but England looks only to the happiness of Spain in keeping Narvaez down, or keeping up Espartero. What matter can such things be to England? If she cannot import through the custom-house, she can smuggle in spite of it, and therefore it is all the same to her in point of fact, whether she has treaties or not. It is a mere question of morality," (Blackwood, vol. xxv., p. 723); but then John Bull is a famous stickler for that, as every body knows.

"The Catalans, upon their side, say that the world is too old, for people with beards on their chins to believe, that nations send embassadors about the globe on crusades of disinterested benevolence. Bailan al son que tocan, is an old Castilian proverb. 'If people dance, it is because there is some music.' Mr. Cobden had passed through Spain but a short time before my visit, and the free-trade enthusiasm was in full blast in consequence. The Propagador, a newspaper in Cadiz, was especially devoted to the dissemination of the anti-custom-house faith. Mr. Bulwer's paper, the Espanol, of Madrid, was full of most demonstrative articles, in which it was satisfactorily proven, by facts and figures, that free-trade would bring back, permanently, to the Peninsula, days as golden as when her western mines were fresh. The Catalans, and the protective politicians generally, used to shrug their shoulders, and wonder if the case would be made out half so clearly, if the Ingleses had not an interest in the market, as well as the logic. Free-trade, they said, was

a good text to preach from, after a nation had so perfected her manufactures, as to find her surest monopoly in freedom. They thought it odd that Great Britain should never have proclaimed free-trade in the produce of her soil, till her own people were starving, or have encouraged it in her manufactures, till she was able to starve other people." (P. 36-8).

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With all his keen perception of the selfish and interested policy of Great Britain in seeking to propagate (late converts are ever zealous) her doctrines of freetrade abroad, Mr. Wallis is not blind to the evils the protective system entails when carried to an excess. It is impossible," he says, for any intelligent and disinterested man to doubt, that the present Spanish system of tariffs on imports is absurd, in both its impositions and restrictions. Bad as it is, it is not half carried out, so that it does little else but thwart and nullify itself, which is pretty fair proof of folly. I went into a shop on the Rambla at Barcelona, and asked the price of some French wares, the high charge for which astonished me so much that I remonstrated. The good woman told me that what I said was very true. 'Mas que quiere vmd? What will your worship have us do? It is impossible to get prohibited goods into the city, without paying at least seventy per cent. on their value to the smuggler."

"But is it possible,' I asked, 'that all these goods are prohibited? Your window is full of them, and the officers of the customs pass here at all hours.'

"No hay duda, Senor-there's no doubt of that. Under the old system, they would perhaps have given me some trouble, but now that we have a constitution, the house of the citizen is inviolable. Once get your goods into the house, and there is an end of the business. There is scarcely a shop on the Rambla that is not full of prohibited goods.""

When will law-makers learn that in legislation, extreme measures defeat their own ends? A question to be addressed to other legislators as well as those of Spain. In that country, however, the blind policy of the government in this respect has developed to greater perfection than elsewhere, a profession well suited to the adventurous and daring but desultory enterprise of its population. The rivers and

harbors are full of swift misticos and felucas-the mountain-passes are full of hardy parties of muleteers, whose sole occupation is to defraud the revenue.

Departing from Barcelona, our entertaining traveller takes us southward, chatting agreeably and describing picturesquely whatever occurs of sufficient note; yet, we regret to say, dispelling the pre-conceived romance of some of the most prevailing notions concerning Spain. For instance, he is so unfortunate as not to meet a single pretty woman in Valencia, although Gauthier and Ford both certify that there are multitudes of beauties in that city; "and what a Frenchman and an Englishman agree on, must be as demonstrable as any thing in Euclid." At Alicante he scarcely meets with better luck, and although he is willing to endorse its reputation for female loveliness, he is denied the best opportunity, perhaps, for judging, i. e. a walk through its famous cigar factory, where three or four thousand women are said to be employed-" a world of labor, sure, to end in smoke." At Cartagena and Almeria, he leaves us provokingly in suspense on that interesting topic, and at Malaga he becomes decidedly ungallant, and gives the sanction of his authority to a verse current in the country,

Malaga tiene la fama De las mujeres bonitas; Mas no es tan fiero el leon Como las jentes lo pintan! which uncourteous stanza may be rendered (freely) as follows:-

Here Fame invests each girl and dame

With every charm and graceWho paints the Devil black? Why, Fame That never saw his face.

Mr. Wallis' description of the luscious plenty that prevails in this part of Spain, would

make Lord Guloseton's mouth fairly water-and, report to the contrary notwithstanding, would leave us to infer that the bountiful presents of nature are nowise rendered nugatory by unscholarlike cookery, garlic having lately grown as unpopular in Spain as robbers and highwaymen are scarce. For scarce they really are, and our author deplores, with much feeling, that uninteresting safety of the highways, which deprived him of his share of hair-breadth escapes.