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authority greater than the parliament of England, have been for some time abolished.

The privy council, which prepares business and arranges papers for the Junta, or council of state, is composed of a number of nobles and grandees, nominated by the king. The Junta itself, a sort of cabinet council, consists of the first secretary of state, and three or four other ministers, who directed every thing according to the will of the king, or latterly of the favourite.

The only religion tolerated in Spain is the Roman Catholic. In ecclesiastical matters the king is supreme; he nominates all archbishops and bishops, and even to most of the smaller benefices. He taxes the revenues of the clergy, and no papal bull can be published without his approbation.

There is no doubt but climate has an influence over the various characteristic dispositions of nations; but, to deduce from this alone the origin of serious and melancholy constitutions, is an error demonstrated by facts, which every individual is at liberty to verify. The climate of England is damp and foggy; this is the cause of that spleen and taciturnity which prevail in the English nation, according to the opinion of the French; but the climate of Spain and Turkey being light, the sky serene, and the sun always resplendent, ought to incline the people of those countries to mirth; nevertheless the Turks and the Spaniards are silent, dull, and thoughtful. The climate of Sweden and of Petersburgh is cold, foggy, and damp, yet the Swedes and Russians are as lively as the French.

It is well ascertained that high degrees of eivilization far from facilitating the expansion and display of great characters, tend only to restrain them within the bounds of esta

blished custom. The passions are masked by forms, and by those deceitful manners which are qualified with the denomination of of politeness and bon ton; the inhabitants of the country, or mountains particularly, whose manners are harsh and rusticated, have more openness and sincerity of disposition. In eities, the great springs of the soul lose their elasticity, and at length have neither play nor strength.

But to return to the Spaniards. What nation in the known world has a more ardent imagination, a more acute and penetrating wit? What people are more fiery, more enthusiastic, and more constant in their undertakings? No obstacle can discourage them; if any offer, they behold them coolly, and surmount them by dint of patience. The fortress of San Fernando, commonly called Figueras,

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was overlooked by three mountains, two of which were within gun-shot, and the third within reach of bombs. Had Figueras belonged to the French, or any other nation, they doubtless would have decided that it was best to fortify these three mountains, and thus prevent the approach of an enemy to the fortress. The Spaniards thought it more simple to lower the mountains; two are already reduced below the fire of the place, and they are at work in levelling down the third. The government thought proper to dig a port at Tarragona, a city in Catalonia. Tarragona is situated in the centre of a bay that forms a semi-circle; steep rocks line the shore all along, and they decided to drive the sea further off; a mine was sprung in consequence of that decision, and a rock being thereby detached and thrown forward, they formed a jetty about six thousand yards in length, under which shelter their men of war have already passed the winter in safety. It is intended to gain about four thousand yards more, and by the constant labour of seven hundred galley-slaves, a work will be completed which alone would establish the glory of the age. But Tarragona is in Spain, and the Spaniard who constantly aims at what is useful, labours without ostentation, and cares but little for that vapour called vanity. He does not publish wonders, as other nations have done before they were undertaken; their utility alone distinguishes them after they are completed. It is reckoned that three feet a day are conquered from the sea by the exertions of these seven hundred galley-slaves.

It is deserving of remark in the Spanish character, that a nation which carries passion to a degree of frenzy, is, in its intercourse with the sex, most open-hearted and sincere. The Spaniard possesses a brave and manly spirit; he speaks to his prince with respect, but likewise with a freedom that belongs to the proper dignity of man; a dignity which he is fully conscious of, and which foreigners confound with pride.

The Spaniard is proud; but his pride does not incline him to insolence and arrogance; he does not express much, but he is sincere in what he does express; he makes no shew of politeness, but his benevolence proceeds from the heart; he is compassionate and kind, and displays no ostentation in bis mode of doing good.

The Spaniards are thought to be grave; but gravity is the mark of nations and persons who think, and preserve their own diguity; and gravity does not exclude gaiety; whoever has seen them dance the fandango and valero,

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tial judge. The aboriginal Spaniard is active, and apt to labour and industry. I confess that the Spaniard who descends from the Visigoths has not that ardour and aptitude which distinguishes the native Spaniard. The Castilian is lazy, it is true, but his indolence and laziness proceed rather from his partiality to ancient customs; a ridiculous partiality, indeed, since it proves prejudicial to the good of society. From an immemorial lapse of time, the most arduous labours, those of agriculture are, in Castile, allotted to that sex which nature has destined to alleviate the moral and physical pains of man, you see the women in the fields ploughing and sowing the ground, while the men, wrapped up in their cloaks, are basking in the sun in public places (lo mando el sol); and this is their only occupation.

must have inferred that they are not always grave. To talk is the result of imperious necessity among the French, it is an error of vanity and good manners; to be silent is reckoned a sign of pride and stupidity. The success of a man in society is calculated according to the quantity of words which he ulters; the ideas he follows too closely are heavy; a matter deeply investigated becomes a tiresome subject of conversation. In a quarter of an hour a Frenchman, a Parisian particularly, must, if he wishes to acquire the reputation of a clever fellow, review all the news of the day, from politics down to fashions, explain the system of cabinets, foretel their consequences, criticise the new productions, give the best account of an engagement if in time of war, but above all he must not fail to mention Mademoiselle Rolandeau's song, and the tragic merits of Mademoiselle Georges or Duchesnois; thus qualified he may be deemed an accomplished and a charming man! The flegmatic Spaniard calculates and speaks deliberately; he follows without vivacity the plan he has formed, but he follows it steadily; therefore finishes what the French-pensed that diligence which encouraged their man but begins. The Spaniard does not always perform great things, but he never undertakes useless ones. Silent by disposition, concentrating his ideas, he acquires the greater neatness of thought and propriety of expression. It requires four French sentences to convey an idea which the Spaniard will express in one. It might be asserted that a Spaniard has thought more during one year than a Frenchman during his whole life.

It has been pretty generally said that the Spaniards are lazy; but on what is this assertion founded? On the little activity observed among the Castilians. Go into Galicia, and there you will learn that 60,000 Galicians yearly quit their province and spread as far as Andalusia. They set out in May, and return in September, some bringing back from four to five pounds sterling. Thirty thousand likewise go yearly into Portugal, to labour in the harvest and vintage; they also bring back the earnings of their labour. Their country is enriched with their industrious periodical emigrations Visit Biscay, Navarre, Arragon, Catalonia, Valentia, Andalusia, and in general the mountainous provinces in Spain, with all those contiguous to the sea, and then charge their active and industrious inhabitants with idleness and indolence if you can. The native of Castile is indolent, bis national character is otium cum dignitate; but Castile is but one among many; it ought not to be taken for the whole when you wish to be a fair and im par

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To encourage women in the practice of these agricultural labours, the ancient Castilians instituted a distribution of prizes, which took place yearly, with which those who had distinguished themselves by exertions were crowned. They thus, out of pride, recom

indolence and sloth. This festival is abolished, but the Castilians are still lazy.

"There

The celebrated author of the Cartas Maruccas, Colonel Dou Joseph de Cadalalso, in a critique on his own countrymen, says, are a great many of them who rise late, take their chocolate very hot, and drink cold water afterwards; dress, go to market, purchase a couple of chickens; hear mass, return to the market-place; walk about for a short time, enquire the chit-chat news, return home, dine very slowly, take their afternoon nap (siesta), rise again, walk in the fields, return home, take refreshments, go into company, play, return at night, say their prayers, sup, and go. to bed."

But what country has not its loungers, such as those who at Paris frequent the Thuilleries, the Champs Elysées, the Palais Royal; in London New Bond-street, St, James's-street, Piccadilly, &c. &c. whose chief morning occupation is a consultation with the boot-maker, or taylor, and whose evening employment is, at Paris, the play-house, Frescati, and La Roulette; in London, the tavern, the theatres, houses of ill fame, or gaming clubs. Of those three modes of idling time away, the Spanish is the least pernicious; but who would think of judging the English or the French from these particular instances? There are in every country persons who consume their days in futile occupations, and kill time in every way they possibly can.

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The Spaniard is said to be ignorant. It || proof of the national spirit, that organization has been pretty well ascertained that Spain of the smugglers of the Sierra Morena, who has produced her list of literati and learned served in the army of Navarre during the persons in various brauches. As to the lower whole war? Ubeda, their chief, on learning classes you very seldom meet with an indivi- that war was declared against France in 1793, dual of the lowest extraction but who knows wrote to Don Ventura Caro, general of the how to read or write; and we doubt much army of Navarre, whose life he had saved in a whether among persons selected throughout journey which Don Ventara had undertaken all Spain, an instaúce of such ignorance could while he was colonel of the Saguuta dragoons. be found as that exhibited by a deputy to the On returning from the camp at Gibraltar to French Icgislative Assembly; who, in one of Madrid, Don Ventura was stopt in the Sierra his enthusiastic fits on the means of prosperity Morena by a band of smugglers, at the head France possessed independent of her colonies, of which was Ubeda. The cool intrepidity he exclaimed with an emphasis, "Have we not evinced on this critical occasion pleased the the Orleans sugar?" Ilad this exquisite legis-chief of the banditti so well, that he gave him lator spoken in Spain, he might have said, a pass to preserve him from further molestawith more reason, "Have we not the Malagation on the road. In fact, Don Ventura reachsugar?" Three-fourths, perhaps, of the persons who read this account are ignorant that on the continent of Europe, on the southern coast of Andalusia, in short, at Velez Malaga, the sugar canes prosper, and yield as good and as fine sugar as those of Jamaica or of St. Domingo.

We have said that the Spaniard's characteristic features were as strongly marked as those of Englishmen; we mentioned, for example, the attachment which he has preserved for all his ancient customs and usages; a period fatal to bumanity gave us an incontestible proof of the truth of this. At the time when the cause of God was joined with that of kings, the enthusiasm among the Spaniards to support the views of their sovereign became general; forty thousand monks offered to take arms aud march to the frontiers, but the court would not accept their offer. A Catalonian curate placed himself at the head of his parishioners, || and discharged his duty during the war with much distinction. Several grandees solicited leave to raise corps at their own expence. The Dukes of Medina Coli, and Infantado were the only noblemen who obtained that favour. Ought we not to mention as a characteristic

ed. Madrid in perfect safety, and utterly forgot
Ubeda and his band. On receipt of the
smugglers' offers of service he mentioned them
to the court; and after the king's answer he
accepted their services, and sent them pass-
ports.
Ubeda arrived at the head of three
hundred smugglers, one hundred of whom
were on horseback. They behaved with great
bravery during the war.

That a grandce of Spain, a man enjoying all the prerogatives of his exalted birth and fortune, should seek by some sacrifices to preserve the rank he owes to the form of his government, is nothing extraordinary, there may be even some selfish considerations in his zeal; but for smugglers and highway robbers, who are stimulated by the allurements of plunder, to whom the law had appointed a gibbet as a reward for their courage, to abandon volantarily their licentious courses, that become safer in the time of war, there being none or fewer troops to oppose them, and go to fight || the common enemy without hope, not only of reward, but even of what constitutes the first object of their association-pillage, there scems in such a step a stamp of national spirit that cannot cscape the eye of the observer.

DON ALVARO.
A SPANISH TALE.

Two years having been occupied in my travels, during which time I had traversed Switzerland, Germany, and France, I resolved to return to Spain, my native country. I had fixed the day for my departure, when I received letters which informed me of the death of an uncle who resided at Milan; and as he had made me his heir, it was pecessary that I should repair to that place. This event

changed my resolutions, and I directed my course towards Italy. Not far from the end of my journey, thinking to lessen the fatigue,

determined to proceed some miles by water, and ordered the muleteer, who had hitherto conducted me, to await my arrival at a sinali village to which I directed him, and promised to join him in a few days.

Men of his class are neither punctual ner

ter,

master. This noise announced our arrival
to the servants, several of whom were waiting.
"This Cavalier," said their mas-
in the hall.
"whom I have met, sups with me, and
will pass the night here; go and prepare ac-
cordingly." They all withdrew in silence,
and we entered a saloon. Lights were brought,
my host presented me a seat, and threw him-
self on a sofa by my side.

nyself of a secret apprehension. I already half repented the facility with which I had allowed inyself to be conducted to an unknown spot, where all seemed melancholy, dark, and mysterious, when in about half an hour another door opened, and shewed us that supper was served in the adjacent apartment; for the man who opened it, as silent as his master, had not announced it.

delicate, and but seldom faithful to their promises. On arriving at the appointed spot I neither found him nor his mules nor the coach which he had promised to keep in readi- || ness. I would have supplied his place, but the village did not afford any vehicle in which I could continue my journey. I had then no alternative but to proceed on foot along the plains of Lombardy. I walked for a whole The silence which reigned throughout the day, night came on; I was excessively fatigued and still at some miles distance from mansion, and the taciturnity of its owner, filled the spot where I expected to find an asylum,me with astonishment, and I must acknowwhen I perceived a well dressed man following ledge that I had some difficulty in divesting the same path as myself; his thoughtful air || and melancholy countenance, gave him the appearance of deep meditation. I could not refrain from approaching nearer to examine his features; he seemed about twenty-eight or thirty; his form was elegant, and his face, though very pale and shaded by the deepest gloom, possessed an expression which warmly interested me, and which once must have been very handsome. On beholding me he stopped, and after having gazed on me for some minutes, he said:" Signior, are you not a Spaniard?" "You are right in your conjec. ture," replied I; "deceived by a man who was to have kept horses and a carriage in waiting for me ten leagues from hence, and the place leaving me no hope of procuring any other conveyance, I was under the necessity of proceeding on foot to the next village." "You are still at some distance from it," said be," and appear much fatigued." "I am indeed; and if it is as far as you say, I fear my strength will fail me." After having looked at me for some moments in silence, he said:-"I can offer you a shelter for to-night, if nothing particular obliges you to proceed; I possess a house a few steps from hence, and shall be happy to entertain you." I was not insensible to his kiadness; I thanked him, without however knowing whether to accept or reject this unexpected offer. The deep melancholy in which this man was involved inclined me to refuse his invitation, but extreme fatigue and hunger overcame all my scruples, and I accepted it.

When we had proceeded about a hundred paces, we arrived at the door of a garden, which appeared extensive, though not in good order; at the end of it I perceived an old decayed tower, to which I at first imagined he was going to conduct me; but we left this path to enter a dark alley; here we continued walking on for some time without exchanging a word; at last we came in sight of a handsome house; a pointer now ran joyfully leaping and barking before us to welcome his

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Although every thing that occurred increased any astonishment, I followed my host, and we seated ourselves at table; I was very hungry, and suspended my reflections in order to satisfy the cravings of my appetite, but in total silence, and my companion, who pbserved it as strictly as myself, scarcely touched any thing.

Our repast ended, we returned to the saloon; the door was again closed, and having each of us resunied our former seats, my companion at length broke silence, and in a stifled voice, and a tone truly sepulchral, said:-" How happy, how very happy are those who are born in obscurity, who are unknown to the rest of mankind, and who pass their lives without any Que caring who they are, or what becomes of them! they follow their destiny, without suffering reflection to arrest their steps. The mechanic and the hushandman pass their days without any of their moments being embittered by ennui, sorrow, or remorse; and it might be said that they only live because they have been But O, how cruelly are accustomed to do so. those tormented who by their birth, their fortune, or their situation, are exposed to the eyes of a censorious and, too often, unjust world! They have as many judges of their conduct and actions as there are people more or less inclined to envy, and who take pleasure in injuring and tormenting them. And, alas ! how are they judged? They are deceived by appearances, their passions lead them on, and the miserable beings whom they condemn vainly seek to repulse the bitter censures with which they are overwhelmed."

The longer I listened to him the less I could devise to what his discourse tended; but it ba

nished my fears, and I only beheld in him a man whose mind seemed greatly oppressed with grief." Yourself," added he, fixing his penetrating eyes on my face, "look upon me in the same light as they; you think me a strange, unaccountable being, but I am only unfortunate "—" Do not accuse me," replied 1, "of forming so hasty and frivolous an opinion, or of the same injustice of which you accuse the rest of mankind. Without seeking to penetrate into the various motives by which my fellow-creatures are actuated, I listen to them, and like to conform to their ideas and share their feelings, when I discover goodness and sincerity. Are they happy, I rejoice at their satisfaction; are they serious, absent, or even dull, I endeavour to find the means of alleviating their grief "—" Then pity me," replied he; but never may you share the woes which overwhelin me, and do not hope to he able to soften them; they are too dreadful, and will only terminate with my long and miserable existence, when my sufferings shall have sunk me into the tomb. Such is the nature of my misfortunes that I am compelled to hide them from all those who surround me. Persuaded that they are deceived in the conjectures to which my manner of living gives occasion, it is of the greatest importance that I should leave them in their error, and this' very error, which on the one hand is so useful to me, covers me with shame. I am a prey to the most cruel despair, no one can guess the cause, and I am forced to conceal it from the whole world. But you are a stranger, I am unk own to you, we shall perhaps never meet again: it is these various circumstances which have determined me to break a silence which keeps me on the rack, and to yield to the desire I have of unburthening my sorrows to a sensible and compassionate being, who will lend a soothing ear to my woes. You have promised to pity me; on this I build my hopes. he sensibility awakened by a tale of grief, is a salutary ba'sam, which does not effect a cure, but which affords a momentary alleviation, and softens the wounds of a lacerated heart"

After a few moments' silence, and sighing deeply whilst he wiped his eyes which were filled with tears, he thus continued:-" True felicity does not consist in riches; if it did I should not fail to be happy. I aspired but to one blessing, that of loving and being beloved; ambition never occupied my thoughts: from my youth I had been fond of a country life; the tumult and noise of great cities when I became acquainted with them, tended to in crease my love of solitude. Though I am a

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Spaniard, as you have no doubt perceived, this domain, which had long been possessed by my family, was bequeathed to me by a near relation; and having lost my parents, I left my country at nineteen, and took possession of this place, with which I was so much pleased that I resolved, if possible, here to end my days. I spent several years without any other projects than those of improving my estate, visiting my neighbours, assisting my dependants, and consoling them under any misfortune. though I was a great admirer of beauty, and it had the same attractions for me as for youth in general, yet several years insensibly passed without my having the smallest desire. of choosing a partner for life. Perhaps my vivid imagination too highly rated the gift of my heart and the loss of my liberty. But, alas! we cannot escape the will of fate; he who thinks himself the farthest from the dreaded abyss is often gradually proceding towards it.

"Passing one day through the suburbs of
Crema, my eyes chanced to fall on a young
girl who was seated near an open window,
busily employed with her needle. A genteel
appearance, a modest though melancholy air,
accompanied by a lovely face, made on me one
of those lively impressions which are indefin-
able, and which can never be effaced. Filled
with the desire of being better acquainted
with her, I learned from the most rigid and,
indefatigable enquiries, that this lovely girl
was not married; that her family, though
poor, were very respectable; that her father
after having signalized himself in the wars, had
brought home no other recompence for bis
long services than the reputation of a brave
officer, and a debilitated constitution, the na-
tural result of the wonnds he had received.
They also added, that her mother, whom she
adored, and whose memory was venerated
throughout the canton, had after a long and
painful illness, about a year before paid the
debt of nature. In short, they concluded by
assuring me that the father of this amiable
gir' derived his chief support from the labour
of her hands. They were not content with
representing her gentleness and good nature,
they praised her wisdom and virtue, to which
they paid the greatest homage.
These en-

comiums charmed me, yet I must confess that
they struck me less forcibly than her beauty.
Combining all that I had heard of the po-
verty of her situation, with the detestable and
guilty hope of triumphing over virtue which
might become weary of indigence, and might
yield to my splendid offers, I instantly set
about the fulfilment of my guilty wishes, and

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