understood by the people, and appearing as the common cause of all nations, it awakens universal sympathies, and is in a position to found more extensive associations as a guarantee against the attacks of power. The words liberty, equality, rights of man, intervention of the people in public affairs, ministerial responsibility, public opinion, liberty of the press, toleration, and other similar ones, do undoubtedly contain a great diversity of meanings, which it would be difficult to determine and to classify when we come to make a specific application of them; and yet these words present to the mind certain ideas which, although complicated and confused, have a false appearance of clearness and simplicity. On the other hand, these words represent certain striking objects that dazzle the mind by their vivid and flattering colours, and hence they cannot be uttered without exciting a lively interest: they are understood by the masses, and hence every self-constituted champion of the ideas they convey is at once regarded as a defender of the rights of all mankind. But imagine yourself living among the people of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and your position will be found very different. Take for your subject the franchises of Catalonia or of Castille, and address yourself to the Aragonese, who were so intractable on the subject of their fueros, and you will produce no effect -will not succeed in awakening either their zeal or their interest; a charter that does not contain the name of one of their towns or cities is, in their eyes, a thing of no importance, and foreign to their wishes. This inconvenience, originating in the ideas of the times, which were naturally confined to local circumstances, became very great in Spain, where, under the same sceptre, there was formed an amalgamation of people differing most widely in their manners, in their municipal and political organisation, and divided, moreover, by rivalries and animosities. In such a state of things it was comparatively easy to curtail the liberties of one province without giving umbrage to the others, or exciting their apprehensions for their own liberties. If, at the period of the insurrections of the Communeros in Castille against Charles V., there had existed that communication of ideas and sentiments, and those lively sympathies, which at the present time

unite people together, the defeat of Villalar would have been a simple defeat and nothing more; the cry of alarm, resounding throughout Aragon and Castille, would certainly have given more trouble to the young and ill-advised monarch. But such was not the case; all the efforts of the people were isolated, and consequently barren of results. The royal power, proceeding upon a fixed and steady plan, was able to beat down piecemeal these scattered forces, and the result was not doubtful. In 1521, Padilla, Bravo, and Maldonado perished on the scaffold; in 1591, D. Diego de Heredia, D. Juan de Luna, and the Justiciary himself, D. Antonio de Lanuza, met the same fate; when, in 1640, the Catalonians rose in insurrection for the defence of their rights, notwithstanding the manifestoes they issued to attract supporters, they found no one to assist them. There were then no flying sheets, coming every morning to fix the attention of the people upon all sorts of questions, and to stir up alarm at the least appearance of danger to their liberties. The people, warmly attached to their customs and usages, satisfied with the nominal confirmations which their monarchs were daily giving to their fueros, proud also of the respect shewn to their ancient liberties, were little aware that they were confronted by a sagacious adversary, who never resorted to force but to effect a decisive blow, yet constantly held his powerful arm ready to crush them. An attentive study of the history of Spain will shew that the concentration of the whole governing power in the hands of the monarch, to the exclusion, as far as was possible, of popular influence, dates from the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. Nor is this surprising; for there was then a greater necessity for such a course, and it could be more easily adopted. There was a greater | necessity; for, from that time, the action of government began to extend from one common centre over the whole of Spain, the various portions of which differed so widely in their laws, their manners, and their customs; hence the central action naturally felt more sensibly the embarrassment occasioned by so great a diversity of cortes, of municipalities, of codes, and of privileges; and, as every government wishes its action to be rapid and efficacious, the idea of simplifying,

uniting, and centralising their power naturally took possession of the kings of Spain. It is, in fact, easy to understand that a monarch at the head of numerous armies, with magnificent fleets at his disposal, who had, on a hundred occasions, humbled his most powerful foes, and won the respect of foreign nations, would not like to be continually going to preside over the cortes in Castille, in Aragon, in Valencia, and in Catalonia. It would undoubtedly cost him dear to be constantly repeating the oath binding him to protect the rights and liberties of his subjects, and listening to the perpetual strain re-echoed in his ears by the procuradores of Castille, and the brazos of Aragon, Valencia, and Catalonia. It was hard for him to be obliged humbly to solicit from the cortes assistance for the expenses of the state, and particularly for almost continual wars. If he submitted to this, it was only from the dread of those resolute men, real lions in the battle-field when fighting in defence of their religion, their country, and their king, and who would have fought with no less intrepidity in their streets and houses, had an attempt been made to despoil them of those rights and franchises which they inherited from their forefathers.

The union of the crowns of Aragon and Castille alone so far prepared the way for the ruin of popular institutions, that it followed almost necessarily. From that time, in fact, the throne had obtained too great a preponderance for the fueros of the kingdoms recently united to oppose it with success. To imagine the existence at that period of a political power capable of resisting the crown, we must suppose all the assemblies held from time to time in the different kingdoms under the name of cortes united into one grand national representative body, with a power analogous to that of the king; we must suppose this central assembly actuated by a zeal equal to that of the ancient assemblies for the preservation of their fueros and privileges, ready to sacrifice all their rivalries to the public good, and advancing towards their object with a firm step, in one compact mass, and never giving an advantage to their adversary. In other words, we must suppose what was utterly impossible at that period: impossible, on account of the ideas, the habits, and the rival

ries of the people; impossible, at a time when the people were incapable of comprehending the question in so lofty a sense; impossible, owing to the resistance which it would have met with from the monarchs; to the embarrassment and complication, arising from the municipal, social, and political organisation. In a word, a thing which it was impossible to effect or even to conceive.

Every circumstance was in favour of the aggrandisement of the royal power. The monarch being no longer merely king of Aragon or of Castille, but of Spain, the ancient kingdoms dwindled into insignificance before the majesty and the splendour of the throne, and sank by degrees to the rank which alone suited them, that of provinces. From that moment the action of the monarch became more extensive and complicated, and consequently he could not come so frequently into contact with his vassals. The celebration of the cortes in each of the recently united kingdoms, would have occasioned long delays; for the king was oftentimes engaged at another part of the empire. When sedition was to be chastised, abuses to be checked, or excesses to be repressed, he was no longer obliged to have recourse to the forces of the particular kingdom in which these things occurred, as he could employ the arms of Castille to subdue insurrection in the kingdom of Aragon, and those of Aragon to put down the rebels of Castille. Grenada lay at his feet; Italy yielded to one of his victorious captains; in his fleet was Columbus, who had just discovered a new world: under these circumstances, it was in vain to listen for the murmurs of the cortes and of ayuntamientos,— these were no longer heard, they had totally disappeared.

Had the national manners had a peaceable tendency, had not Spain been habituated to war, democratic institutions would probably have been preserved with less difficulty. Had the attention of the people been fixed exclusively upon their municipal and political affairs, they would have better understood their real interests; kings themselves would not have been so ready to rush into war, and the throne would in some degree have lost the prestige it obtained from the splendour and success of its armies; the administration would not have been imbued

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with that blunt harshness, for which military habits are always more or less remarkable; and the ancient fueros would thus have more easily retained some consideration. But precisely at that period Spain was the most warlike nation in the world; it was in its element on the battle-field; seven centuries of combats had made it a nation of soldiers. Its recent victories over the Moors; the exploits of its armies in Italy; the discoveries of Columbus; every thing, in fine, contributed to its exaltation, and to inspire it with that spirit of chivalry which, for so long a time, was one of its distinguishing characteristics. It was necessary for the king to be a captain; and he was certain to captivate the minds of Spaniards, so long as he won renown by brilliant feats of arms. Now, arms are the bane of popular institutions. After a victory on the field of battle, the order and discipline of the camp are usually transferred to the city.

From the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, the throne rose to such a height of power that liberal institutions were almost lost sight of. The people and the grandees, it is true, re-appeared upon the scene after the death of Isabella; but this was entirely owing to the misunderstanding between Ferdinand the Catholic and Philip le Bel, which impaired the unity, and consequently the strength of the throne; and hence, as soon as these circumstances disappeared, the throne again resumed its full preponderance, and that not only during the last days of Ferdinand, but even under the regency of Ximenes. The men of Castille, exasperated by the excesses of the Flemish, and encouraged perhaps by the hope, that the rule of a young monarch would be, as it usually is, only feeble, again raised their voices; their remonstrances and complaints speedily ended in commotions and in open insurrection. Notwithstanding many circumstances highly favourable to the communeros, and the probability that their conduct would be followed by all the provinces of the monarchy, we find that the insurrection, although considerable, did not assume either the importance or extent of a national movement; a great portion of the Peninsula preserved a strict neutrality, and the rest inclined to the cause of monarchy. If I am not mistaken, this fact indicates that the throne

had already obtained an immense prestige, and was regarded as the highest and most powerful institution. The entire reign of Charles V. was extremely well calculated to perfect this beginning. Commenced under the auspices of the battle of Villalar, this reign continued through an uninterrupted series of wars, in which the treasures and the blood of Spain were spent with incredible profusion in all the countries of Europe, Africa, and America. The nation was not allowed time even to think of its affairs: almost always deprived of the presence of its king, it had become a province at the disposal of the Emperor of Germany, the ruler of Europe. True, the cortes of 1538 boldly gave Charles a severe lecture instead of the succour he demanded. But it was already too late; the clergy and the nobility were expelled from the cortes, and the representation of Castille was restricted for the future to the procuradores alone; that is, it was doomed to be no more than the shadow of what it had been-a mere instrument of the royal will.

Much has been said against Philip II.; but, in my opinion, this monarch merely kept his place, and allowed things to take their natural course. The crisis was already past; the question already decided; the Spanish nation could not regain its lost influence, save by the regenerating action of centuries. Still, we must not imagine that absolute power was so fully and completely established as to leave not a vestige of ancient liberty; but this liberty could do nothing from its asylum in Aragon and Catalonia against the giant that held it in check from the midst of a country entirely subject to his sway, from the capital of Castille. The monarchs might probably, by one bold and heavy blow, have struck down every thing that opposed them; but whatever probabilities of success they had in the vast means at their disposal, they were very careful not to make the attempt, but left the inhabitants of Navarre, the subjects of the crown of Aragon, in the tranquil enjoyment of their franchises, rights, and privileges. At the same time, they were careful to prevent the contagion spreading to the other provinces. By means of partial attacks, and more especially by leading the people to allow their ancient liberties to fall into desuetude, they gradually

diminished their zeal for them, and insensibly brought them to a habit of tamely bending under the action of a central power. (39.)

CHAPTER LXVII.

POLITICAL LIBERTY AND RELIGIOUS INTO-
LERANCE.

In the sketch I have here drawn, the rigorous
accuracy of which no one can question, we
have not discovered any thing like oppression
in Catholicism, nor any alliance between the
clergy and the throne for the destruction of
liberty: what we have discovered is merely
the regular and natural order of things,—a
successive development of events contained
in each other, as the plant is contained in
the
germ. As for the Inquisition, I think I
have said enough respecting it in the chap-
ters that treat of it: in this place I will
merely observe, that it was not a political
instrument in the hands of kings, ready to be
used at their beck. Religion was its object;
and as we have seen, far from losing sight of
this object to suit the wishes of the sovereign,
it unhesitatingly condemned the doctrines
that would have unjustly extended the powers
of the monarch. Shall I be told, that the
Inquisition was in its very nature intolerant,
and consequently opposed to the growth of
liberty? I answer, that toleration, as now
understood, had at that time no existence in
any European country. Besides, it was un-
der the direct and full influence of religious
intolerance that the people were emanci-
pated, municipalities organised, the system
of large representative assemblies established,
which, under different names, and more or
less directly, interfered in public affairs.

Men's ideas were not yet so far perverted as to lead them to believe that religion was favourable and conducive to the oppression of the people; on the contrary, we observe in the hearts of these people a vehement desire for liberty and progress, whilst at the same time they clung with enthusiasm to a faith, in the sight of which it appeared to them just and salutary to refuse toleration to any doctrine at variance with the teaching of the Church of Rome. Unity of faith does not fetter the people-does not impede their movements in any direction-as well, indeed,

might it be said, that the mariner is fettered by the compass that guides him in safety through the wide expanse of waters. Was the ancient unity of European civilisation wanting in grandeur, in variety, or in beauty? Did Catholic unity, presiding over the destinies of society, arrest its progress, even in the ages of barbarism? Let us fix our eyes upon the grand and delightful spectacle exhibited in the centuries preceding the sixteenth, and pause a moment to reflect; we shall all the better understand in what manner Protestantism has given a wrong direction to the course of civilisation.

The immense agitation occasioned by the gigantic enterprise of the Crusades shews

who

in what a state of fermentation were the elements deposited in the bosom of society. The shock excited them to activity-union augmented their force-every where, and in every sense, was to be seen a vigorous and active movement, a sure presage of the high degree of civilisation and refinement which Europe was about to attain. The arts and sciences, as if called into life by some powerful voice, reappeared, loudly asserting their claim to protection and an honourable reception. On the feudal castles, those heirlooms of the manners of the period of conquest, a ray of light suddenly gleamed, that illuminated with the rapidity of lightning all climates and all people. Those masses of men, had hitherto bent in painful toil for the benefit of their masters, now lifted up their heads, and, with bold hearts and enfranchised lips, demanded a share in social advantages. Addressing each other with a look of intelligence, they combined together, and insisted in common that the law should be substituted for caprice. Then towns sprung up, increased in size and importance, and were surrounded with ramparts; municipal institutions arose, and began to develop themselves; kings, till then the sport of the pride, ambition, or stubbornness of the feudal lords, seized upon an opportunity so favourable, and made common cause with the people. Threatened with destruction, feudalism entered valiantly into the contest, but in vain; and, restrained by a power even more irresistible than the weapons of its adversaries, and, as if oppressed by the air it breathed, it felt its action impeded, its energies enfeebled, and, despairing of victory, it gave