I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof
of the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling
character of her population, than the fact that, at the present
day, she is still a powerful and unexhausted country, and her
children still, to a certain extent, a high-minded and great
people. Yes, notwithstanding the misrule of the brutal and sensual
Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and, above all, the spiritual tyranny
of the court of Rome, Spain can still maintain her own, fight her
own combat, and Spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and crouching
beggars. This is saying much, very much: she has undergone far
more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of Naples has
not been hers. There is still valour in Astruria; generosity in
Aragon; probity in Old Castile; and the peasant women of La Mancha
can still afford to place a silver fork and a snowy napkin beside
the plate of their guest. Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and
Rome, there is still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples.

Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country. I know
something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever
been; Spain never changes. It is true that, for nearly two
centuries, she was the she-butcher, La Verduga, of malignant Rome;
the chosen instrument for carrying into effect the atrocious
projects of that power; yet fanaticism was not the spring which
impelled her to the work of butchery; another feeling, in her the
predominant one, was worked upon--her fatal pride. It was by
humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her precious
blood and treasure in the Low Country wars, to launch the Armada,
and to many other equally insane actions. Love of Rome had ever