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diff --git a/old/7yego10.txt b/old/7yego10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..66b6855 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7yego10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6538 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth and Egolatry, by Pio Baroja + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Youth and Egolatry + +Author: Pio Baroja + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8148] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH AND EGOLATRY *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +Youth and Egolatry + +By PIO BAROJA + +Translated from the Spanish By Jacob S. Fassett, Jr. and Frances L. +Phillips + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION BY H. L. MENCKEN + +PROLOGUE + +ON INTELLECTUAL LOVE +EGOTISM + +I. FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS + +The bad man of Itzea +Humble and a wanderer +Dogmatophagy +Ignoramus, Ignorabimus +Nevertheless, we call ourselves materialists +In defense of religion +Arch-European +Dionysus or Apollonian +Epicuri de grege porcum +Evil and Rousseau's Chinaman +The root of disinterested evil +Music as a sedative +Concerning Wagner +Universal musicians +The folk song +On the optimism of eunuchs + +II. MYSELF, THE WRITER + +To my readers thirty years hence +Youthful writings +The beginning and end of the journey +Mellowness and the critical sense +Sensibility +On devouring one's own God +Anarchism +New paths +Longing for change +Baroja, you will never amount to anything (A Refrain) +The patriotism of desire +My home lands +Cruelty and stupidity +The anterior image +The tragi-comedy of sex +The veils of the sexual life +A little talk +The sovereign crowd +The remedy + +III. THE EXTRARADIUS + +Rhetoric and anti-rhetoric +The rhythm of style +Rhetoric of the minor key +The value of my ideas +Genius and admiration +My literary and artistic inclinations +My library +On being a gentleman +Giving offence +Thirst for glory +Elective antipathies +To a member of several academies + +IV. ADMIRATIONS AND INCOMPATIBILITIES + +Cervantes, Shakespeare, Moliere +The encyclopedists +The romanticists +The naturalists +The Spanish realists +The Russians +The critics + +V. THE PHILOSOPHERS + +VI. THE HISTORIANS + +The Roman historians +Modern and contemporary historians + +VII. MY FAMILY + +Family mythology +Our History + +VIII. MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD + +San Sebastian +My parents +Monsignor +Two lunatics +The hawk +In Madrid +In Pamplona +Don Tirso Larequi +A visionary rowdy +Sarasate +Robinson Crusoe and the Mysterious Island + +IX. AS A STUDENT + +Professors +Anti-militarism +To Valencia + +X. AS A VILLAGE DOCTOR + +Dolores, La Sacristana + +XI. AS A BAKER + +My father's disillusionment +Industry and democracy +The vexations of a small tradesman + +XII. AS A WRITER + +Bohemia +Our own generation +Azorin +Paul Schmitz +Ortega y Gasset +A pseudo-patron + +XIII. PARISIAN DAYS + +Estevanez +My versatility according to Bonafoux + +XIV. LITERARY ENMITIES + +The enmity of Dicenta +The posthumous enmity of Sawa +Semi-hatred on the part of Silverio Lanza + +XV. THE PRESS + +Our newspapers and periodicals +Our journalists +Americans + +XVI. POLITICS + +Votes and applause +Politicians +Revolutionists +Lerroux +An offer +Socialists +Love of the workingman +The conventionalist Barriovero +Anarchists +The morality of the alternating party system +On obeying the law +The sternness of the law + +XVII. MILITARY GLORY + +The old-time soldier +Down goes prestige +Science and the picturesque +What we need today +Our armies +A word from Kuroki, the Japanese + +EPILOGUE +Palinode and fresh outburst of ire + +APPENDICES +Spanish politicians +On Baroja's anarchists +Note + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Pio Baroja is a product of the intellectual reign of terror that went on +in Spain after the catastrophe of 1898. That catastrophe, of course, was +anything but unforeseen. The national literature, for a good many years +before the event, had been made dismal by the croaking of Iokanaans, and +there was a definite _defaitiste_ party among the _intelligentsia_. +But among the people in general, if there was not optimism, there was at +least a sort of resigned indifference, and so things went ahead in the +old stupid Spanish way and the structure of society, despite a few +gestures of liberalism, remained as it had been for generations. In Spain, +of course, there is always a _Kulturkampf_, as there is in Italy, +but during these years it was quiescent. The Church, in the shadow of +the restored monarchy, gradually resumed its old privileges and its old +pretensions. So on the political side. In Catalonia, where Spain keeps the +strangest melting-pot in Europe and the old Iberian stock is almost +extinct, there was a menacing seething, but elsewhere there was not much +to chill the conservative spine. In the middle nineties, when the +Socialist vote in Germany was already approaching the two million mark, +and Belgium was rocked by great Socialist demonstrations, and the +Socialist deputies in the French Chamber numbered fifty, and even England +was beginning to toy gingerly with new schemes of social reform, by +Bismarck out of Lassalle, the total strength of the Socialists of Spain +was still not much above five thousand votes. In brief, the country seemed +to be removed from the main currents of European thought. There was +unrest, to be sure, but it was unrest that was largely inarticulate and +that needed a new race of leaders to give it form and direction. + +Then came the colossal shock of the American war and a sudden +transvaluation of all the old values. Anti-clericalism got on its legs +and Socialism got on its legs, and out of the two grew that great +movement for the liberation of the common people, that determined and +bitter struggle for a fair share in the fruits of human progress, which +came to its melodramatic climax in the execution of Francisco Ferrer. +Spain now began to go ahead very rapidly, if not in actual achievement, +then at least in the examination and exchange of ideas, good and bad. +Parties formed, split, blew up, revived and combined, each with its sure +cure for all the sorrows of the land. Resignationism gave way to a harsh +and searching questioning, and questioning to denunciation and demand +for reform. The monarchy swayed this way and that, seeking to avoid both +the peril of too much yielding and the worse peril of not yielding +enough. The Church, on the defensive once more, prepared quickly for +stormy weather and sent hurried calls to Rome for help. Nor was all this +uproar on the political and practical side. Spanish letters, for years +sunk into formalism, revived with the national spirit, and the new books +in prose and verse began to deal vigorously with the here and now. +Novelists, poets and essayists appeared who had never been heard of +before--young men full of exciting ideas borrowed from foreign lands and +even more exciting ideas of their own fashioning. The national +literature, but lately so academic and remote from existence, was now +furiously lively, challenging and provocative. The people found in it, +not the old placid escape from life, but a new stimulation to arduous +and ardent living. And out of the ruck of authors, eager, exigent, and +the tremendous clash of nations, new and old, there finally emerged a +prose based not upon rhetorical reminiscences, but responsive minutely +to the necessities of the national life. The oratorical platitudes of +Castelar and Canovas del Castillo gave way to the discreet analyses of +Azorin (Jose Martinez Ruiz) and Jose Ortega y Gasset, to the sober +sentences of the Rector of the University of Salamanca, Miguel de +Unamuno, writing with a restraint which is anything but traditionally +Castilian, and to the journalistic impressionism of Ramiro de Maeztu, +supple and cosmopolitan from long residence abroad. The poets now +jettisoned the rotundities of the romantic and emotional schools of +Zorrilla and Salvador Rueda, and substituted instead the precise, +pictorial line of Ruben Dario, Juan Ramon Jimenez, and the brothers +Machado, while the socialistic and republican propaganda which had +invaded the theatre with Perez Galdos, Joaquin Dicenta, and Angel +Guimera, bore fruit in the psychological drama of Benavente, the social +comedies of Linares Rivas, and the atmospheric canvases which the +Quinteros have painted of Andalusia. + +In the novel, the transformation is noticeable at once in the rapid +development of the pornographic tale, whose riches might bring a blush +to the cheek of Boccaccio, and provide Poggio and Aretino with a +complete review; but these are stories for the barrack, venturing only +now and then upon the confines of respectability in the erotic romances +of Zamacois and the late enormously popular Felipe Trigo. Few Spaniards +who write today but have written novels. Yet the gesture of the grand +style of Valera is palsied, except, perhaps, for the conservative +Quixote, Ricardo Leon, a functionary in the Bank of Spain, while the +idyllic method lingers fitfully in such gentle writers as Jose Maria +Salaverria, after surviving the attacks of the northern realists under +the lead of Pereda, in his novels of country life, and of the less +vigorous Antonio de Trueba, and of Madrid vulgarians, headed by Mesonero +Romanos and Coloma. The decadent novel, foreshadowed a few years since +by Alejandro Sawa, has attained full maturity in Hoyos y Vinent, while +the distinctive growth of the century is the novel of ideas, exact, +penetrating, persistently suggestive in the larger sense, which does not +hesitate to make demands upon the reader, and this is exemplified most +distinctively, both temperamentally and intellectually, by Pio Baroja. + +It would be difficult to find two men who, dealing with the same ideas, +bring to them more antagonistic attitudes of mind than Baroja and Blasco +Ibanez. For all his appearance of modernism, Blasco really belongs to +the generation before 1898. He is of the stock of Victor Hugo--a +popular rhapsodist and intellectual swashbuckler, half artist and half +mob orator--a man of florid and shallow certainties, violent +enthusiasms, quack remedies, vast magnetism and address, and even vaster +impudence--a fellow with plain touches of the charlatan. His first solid +success at home was made with _La Barraca_ in 1899--and it was a +success a good deal more political than artistic; he was hailed for his +frenzy far more than for his craft. Even outside of Spain his subsequent +celebrity has tended to ground itself upon agreement with his politics, +and not upon anything properly describable as a critical appreciation of +his talents. Had _The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse_ been +directed against France instead of in favour of France, it goes without +saying that it would have come to the United States without the +_imprimatur_ of the American Embassy at Madrid, and that there +would have appeared no sudden rage for the author among the generality +of novel-readers. His intrinsic merits, in sober retrospect, seem very +feeble. For all his concern with current questions, his accurate news +instinct, he is fundamentally a romantic of the last century, with more +than one plain touch of the downright operatic. + +Baroja is a man of a very different sort. A novelist undoubtedly as +skilful as Blasco and a good deal more profound, he lacks the quality of +enthusiasm and thus makes a more restricted appeal. In place of gaudy +certainties he offers disconcerting questionings; in place of a neat and +well-rounded body of doctrine he puts forward a sort of generalized +contra-doctrine. Blasco is almost the typical Socialist--iconoclastic, +oratorical, sentimental, theatrical--a fervent advocate of all sorts of +lofty causes, eagerly responsive to the shibboleths of the hour. Baroja +is the analyst, the critic, almost the cynic. If he leans toward any +definite doctrine at all, it is toward the doctrine that the essential +ills of man are incurable, that all the remedies proposed are as bad as +the disease, that it is almost a waste of time to bother about humanity +in general. This agnostic attitude, of course, is very far from merely +academic, monastic. Baroja, though his career has not been as dramatic +as Blasco's, has at all events taken a hand in the life of his time and +country and served his day in the trenches of the new enlightenment. He +is anything but a theorist. But there is surely no little significance +in his final retreat to his Basque hillside, there to seek peace above +the turmoil. He is, one fancies, a bit disgusted and a bit despairing. +But if it is despair, it is surely not the despair of one who has +shirked the trial. + +The present book, _Juventud, Egolatria_, was written at the height +of the late war, and there is a preface to the original edition, omitted +here, in which Baroja defends his concern with aesthetic and +philosophical matters at such a time. The apologia was quite gratuitous. +A book on the war, though by the first novelist of present-day Spain, +would probably have been as useless as all the other books on the war. +That stupendous event will be far more soundly discussed by men who have +not felt its harsh appeal to the emotions. Baroja, evading this grand +enemy of all ideas, sat himself down to inspect and co-ordinate the +ideas that had gradually come to growth in his mind before the bands +began to bray. The result is a book that is interesting, not only as the +frank talking aloud of one very unusual man, but also as a +representation of what is going on in the heads of a great many other +Spaniards. Blasco, it seems to me, is often less Spanish than French; +Valencia, after all, is next door to Catalonia, and Catalonia is +anything but Castilian. But Baroja, though he is also un-Castilian and +even a bit anti-Castilian, is still a thorough Spaniard. He is more +interested in a literary feud in Madrid than in a holocaust beyond the +Pyrenees. He gets into his discussion of every problem a definitely +Spanish flavour. He is unmistakably a Spaniard even when he is trying +most rigorously to be unbiased and international. He thinks out +everything in Spanish terms. In him, from first to last, one observes +all the peculiar qualities of the Iberian mind--its disillusion, its +patient weariness, its pervasive melancholy. Spain, I take it, is the +most misunderstood of countries. The world cannot get over seeing it +through the pink mist of _Carmen_, an astounding Gallic caricature, +half flattery and half libel. The actual Spaniard is surely no such +grand-opera Frenchman as the immortal toreador. I prescribe the +treatment that cured me, for one, of mistaking him for an Iberian. That +is, I prescribe a visit to Spain in carnival time. + +Baroja, then, stands for the modern Spanish mind at its most +enlightened. He is the Spaniard of education and worldly wisdom, +detached from the mediaeval imbecilities of the old regime and yet aloof +from the worse follies of the demagogues who now rage in the country. +Vastly less picturesque than Blasco Ibanez, he is nearer the normal +Spaniard--the Spaniard who, in the long run, must erect a new structure +of society upon the half archaic and half Utopian chaos now reigning in +the peninsula. Thus his book, though it is addressed to Spaniards, +should have a certain value for English-speaking readers. And so it is +presented. + +H. L. MENCKEN. + + + + +PROLOGUE + +ON INTELLECTUAL LOVE + +Only what is of the mind has value to the mind. Let us dedicate +ourselves without compunction to reflecting a little upon the eternal +themes of life and art. It is surely proper that an author should write +of them. + +I cultivate a love which is intellectual, and of a former epoch, besides +a deafness to the present. I pour out my spirit continually into the +eternal moulds without expecting that anything will result from it. + +But now, instead of a novel, a few stray comments upon my life have come +from my pen. + +Like most of my books, this has appeared in my hands without being +planned, and not at my bidding. I was asked to write an autobiographical +sketch of ten or fifteen pages. Ten or fifteen pages seemed a great many +to fill with the personal details of a life which is as insignificant as +my own, and far too few for any adequate comment upon them. I did not +know how to begin. To pick up the thread, I began drawing lines and +arabesques. Then the pages grew in number and, like Faust's dog, my pile +soon waxed big, and brought forth this work. + +At times, perhaps, the warmth of the author's feeling may appear ill- +advised to the reader; it may be that he will find his opinions +ridiculous and beside the mark on every page. I have merely sought to +sun my vanity and egotism, to bring them forth into the air, so that my +aesthetic susceptibilities might not be completely smothered. + +This book has been a work of mental hygiene. + + + + +EGOTISM + + +Egotism resembles cold drinks in summer; the more you take, the +thirstier you get. It also distorts the vision, producing an hydropic +effect, as has been noted by Calderon in his _Life is a Dream_. + +An author always has before him a keyboard made up of a series of I's. +The lyric and satiric writers play in the purely human octave; the +critic plays in the bookman's octave; the historian in the octave of the +investigator. When an author writes of himself, perforce he plays upon +his own "I," which is not exactly that contained in the octave of the +sentimentalist nor yet in that of the curious investigator. Undoubtedly +at times it must be a most immodest "I," an "I" which discloses a name +and a surname, an "I" which is positive and self-assertive, with the +imperiousness of a Captain General's edict or a Civil Governor's decree. + +I have always felt some delicacy in talking about myself, so that the +impulsion to write these pages of necessity came from without. + +As I am not generally interested when anybody communicates his likes and +dislikes to me, I am of opinion that the other person most probably +shares the same feelings when I communicate mine to him. However, a time +has now arrived when it is of no consequence to me what the other person +thinks. + +In this matter of giving annoyance, a formula should be drawn up and +accepted, after the manner of Robespierre: the liberty of annoying +another begins where his liberty of annoying you leaves off. + +I understand very well that there may be persons who believe that their +lives are wholly exemplary, and who thus burn with ardour to talk about +them. But I have not led an exemplary life to any such extent. I have +not led a life that might be called pedagogic, because it is fitted to +serve as a model, nor a life that might be called anti-pedagogic, +because it would serve as a warning. Neither do I bring a fistful of +truths in my hand, to scatter broadcast. What, then, have I to say? And +why do I write about myself? Assuredly, to no useful purpose. + +The owner of a house is sometimes asked: + +"Is there anything much locked up in that room?" + +"No, nothing but old rubbish," he replies promptly. + +But one day the owner opens the room, and then he finds a great store of +things which he had not remembered, all of them covered with dust; so he +hauls them out and generally they prove to be of no service at all. This +is precisely what I have done. + +These pages, indeed, are a spontaneous exudation. But are they sincere? +Absolutely sincere? It is not very probable. The moment we sit for a +photographer, instinctively we dissemble and compose our features. When +we talk about ourselves, we also dissemble. + +In as short a book as this the author is able to play with his mask and +to fix his expression. Throughout the work of an entire lifetime, +however, which is of real value only when it is one long autobiography, +deceit is impossible, because when the writer is least conscious of it, +he reveals himself. + + + + +I + +FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS + +The Bad Man of Itzea + + +When I first came to live in this house at Vera del Bidasoa, I found +that the children of the district had taken possession of the entryway +and the garden, where they misbehaved generally. It was necessary to +drive them away little by little, until they flew off like a flock of +sparrows. + +My family and I must have seemed somewhat peculiar to these children, +for one day, when one little fellow caught sight of me, he took refuge +in the portal of his house and cried out: + +"Here comes the bad man of Itzea!" + +And the bad man of Itzea was I. + +Perhaps this child had heard from his sister, and his sister had heard +from her mother, and her mother had heard from the sexton's wife, and +the sexton's wife from the parish priest, that men who have little +religion are very bad; perhaps this opinion did not derive from the +priest, but from the president of the Daughters of Mary, or from the +secretary of the Enthronization of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; perhaps +some of them had read a little book by Father Ladron de Guevara +entitled, _Novelists, Good and Bad_, which was distributed in the +village the day that I arrived, and which states that I am irreligious, +a clerophobe, and quite shameless. Whether from one source or another, +the important consideration to me was that there was a bad man in Itzea, +and that that bad man was I. + +To study and make clear the instincts, pride, and vanities of the bad +man of Itzea is the purpose of this book. + + + + +HUMBLE AND A WANDERER + + +Some years ago, I cannot say just how many, probably twelve or fourteen, +during the days when I led, or thought I led, a nomadic life, happening +to be in San Sebastian, I went to visit the Museum with the painter +Regoyos. After seeing everything, Soraluce, the director, indicated that +I was expected to inscribe my name in the visitor's register, and after +I had done so, he said: + +"Place your titles beneath." + +"Titles!" I exclaimed. "I have none." + +"Then put down what you are. As you see, the others have done the same." + +I looked at the book. True enough; there was one signature, So-and-So, +and beneath, "Chief of Administration of the Third Class and Knight of +Charles III"; another, Somebody Else, and beneath was written "Commander +of the Battalion of Isabella the Catholic, with the Cross of Maria +Cristina." + +Then, perhaps slightly irritated at having neither titles nor honours +(burning with an anarchistic and Christian rancour, as Nietzsche would +have it), I jotted down a few casual words beneath my signature: + +"Pio Baroja, a humble man and a wanderer." + +Regoyos read them and burst out laughing. + +"What an idea!" exclaimed the director of the Museum, as he closed the +volume. + +And there I remained a humble man and a wanderer, overshadowed by Chiefs +of Administration of all Classes, Commanders of all Branches of the +Service, Knights of all kinds of Crosses, rich men returned from +America, bankers, etc., etc. + +Am I a humble man and a wanderer? Not a bit of it! There is more +literary phantasy in the phrase than there is truth. Of humility I do +not now, nor have I ever possessed more than a few rather Buddhistic +fragments; nor am I a wanderer either, for making a few insignificant +journeys does not authorize one to call oneself a wanderer. Just as I +put myself down at that time as a humble man and a wanderer, so I might +call myself today a proud and sedentary person. Perhaps both +characterizations contain some degree of truth; and perhaps there is +nothing in either. + +When a man scrutinizes himself very closely, he arrives at a point where +he does not know what is face and what is mask. + + + + +DOGMATOPHAGY + + +If I am questioned concerning my ideas on religion, I reply that I am an +agnostic--I always like to be a little pedantic with philistines--now I +shall add that, more than this, I am a dogmatophagist. + +My first impulse in the presence of a dogma, whether it be political, +moral, or religious, is to cast about for the best way to masticate, +digest, and dispose of it. + +The peril in an inordinate appetite for dogma lies in the probability of +making too severe a drain upon the gastric juices, and so becoming +dyspeptic for the rest of one's life. + +In this respect, my inclination exceeds my prudence. I have an incurable +dogmatophagy. + +Ignoramus, Ignorabimus + +Such are the words of the psychologist, DuBois-Reymond, in one of his +well-known lectures. The agnostic attitude is the most seemly that it is +possible to take. Nowadays, not only have all religious ideas been +upset, but so too has everything which until now appeared most solid, +most indivisible. Who has faith any longer in the atom? Who believes in +the soul as a monad? Who believes in the objective validity of the +senses? + +The atom, unity of the spirit and of consciousness, the validity of +perception, all these are under suspicion today. _Ignoramus, +ignorabimus_. + + + + +NEVERTHELESS, WE CALL OURSELVES MATERIALISTS + + +Nevertheless, we call ourselves materialists. Yes; not because we +believe that matter exists as we see it, but because in this way we may +contradict the vain imaginings and all those sacred mysteries which +begin so modestly, and always end by extracting the money from our +pockets. + +Materialism, as Lange has said, has proved itself the most fecund +doctrine of science. Wilhelm Ostwald, in his _Victory of Scientific +Materialism_, has defended the same thesis with respect to modern +physics and chemistry. + +At the present time we are regaled with the sight of learned friars +laying aside for a moment their ancient tomes, and turning to dip into +some manual of popular science, after which they go about and astonish +simpletons by giving lectures. + +The war horse of these gentlemen is the conception entertained by +physicists at the present-day concerning matter, according to which it +has substance in the precise degree that it is a manifestation of +energy. + +"If matter is scarcely real, then what is the validity of materialism?" +shout the friars enthusiastically. + +The argument smacks of the seminary and is absolutely worthless. + +Materialism is more than a philosophical system: it is a scientific +method, which will have nothing to do either with fantasies or with +caprices. + +The jubilation of these friars at the thought that matter may not exist, +in truth and in fact is in direct opposition to their own theories. +Because if matter does not exist, then what could God have created? + + + + +IN DEFENSE OF RELIGION + + +The great defender of religion is the lie. Lies are the most vital +possession of man. Religion lives upon lies, and society maintains +itself upon them, with its train of priests and soldiers--the one, +moreover, as useless as the other. This great Maia of falsehood sustains +all the sky borders in the theatre of life, and, when some fall, it +lifts up others. + +If there were a solvent for lies, what surprises would be in store for +us! Nearly everybody who now appears to us to be upright, inflexible, +and to hold his chest high, would be disclosed as a flaccid, weak +person, presenting in reality a sorry spectacle. + +Lies are much more stimulating than truth; they are also almost always +more tonic and more healthy. I have come to this conclusion rather late +in life. For utilitarian and practical ends, it is clearly our duty to +cultivate falsehood, arbitrariness, and partial truths. Nevertheless, we +do not do so. Can it be that, unconsciously, we have something of the +heroic in us? + + + + +ARCH-EUROPEAN + + +I am a Basque, if not on all four sides, at least on three and a half. +The remaining half, which is not Basque, is Lombard. + +Four of my eight family names are Guipuzcoan, two of them are Navarrese, +one Alavese, and the other Italian. I take it that family names are +indicative of the countries where one's ancestors lived, and I take it +also that there is great potency behind them, that the influence of each +works upon the individual with a duly proportioned intensity. Assuming +this to be the case, the resultant of the ancestral influences operative +upon me would indicate that my geographical parallel lies somewhere +between the Alps and the Pyrenees. Sometimes I am inclined to think that +the Alps and the Pyrenees are all that is European in Europe. Beyond +them I seem to see Asia; below them, Africa. + +In the riparian Navarrese, as in the Catalans and the Genovese, one +already notes the African; in the Gaul of central France, as well as in +the Austrian, there is a suggestion of the Chinese. + +Clutching the Pyrenees and grafted upon the Alps, I am conscious of +being an Arch-European. + + + +DIONYSIAN OR APOLLONIAN? + + +Formerly, when I believed that I was both humble and a wanderer, I was +convinced that I was a Dionysian. I was impelled toward turbulence, the +dynamic, the theatric. Naturally, I was an anarchist. Am I today? I +believe I still am. In those days I used to enthuse about the future, +and I hated the past. + +Little by little, this turbulence has calmed down--perhaps it was never +very great. Little by little I have come to realize that if following +Dionysus induces the will to bound and leap, devotion to Apollo has a +tendency to throw the mind back until it rests upon the harmony of +eternal form. There is great attraction in both gods. + + + + +EPICURI DE GREGE PORCUM + + +I am also a swine of the herd of Epicurus; I, too, wax eloquent over +this ancient philosopher, who conversed with his pupils in his garden. +The very epithet of Horace, upon detaching himself from the Epicureans, +"_Epicuri de grege porcum_," is full of charm. + +All noble minds have hymned Epicurus. "Hail Epicurus, thou honour of +Greece!" Lucretius exclaims in the third book of his poem. + +"I have sought to avenge Epicurus, that truly holy philosopher, that +divine genius," Lucian tells us in his _Alexander, or the False +Prophet_. Lange, in his _History of Materialism_, sets down +Epicurus as a disciple and imitator of Democritus. + +I am not a man of sufficient classical culture to be able to form an +authoritative opinion of the merits of Epicurus as a philosopher. All my +knowledge of him, as well as of the other ancient philosophers, is +derived from the book of Diogenes Laertius. + +Concerning Epicurus, I have read Bayle's magnificent article in his +_Historical and Critical Dictionary_, and Gassendi's work, _De +Vita et Moribus Epicuri_. With this equipment, I have become one of +the disciples of the master. + +Scholars may say that I have no right to enrol myself as one of the +disciples of Epicurus, but when I think of myself, spontaneously there +comes to my mind the grotesque epithet which Horace applied to the +Epicureans in his _Epistles_, a characterization which for my part +I accept and regard as an honour: "Swine of the herd of Epicurus, +_Epicuri de grege porcum_." + + + + +EVIL AND ROUSSEAU'S CHINAMAN + + +I do not believe in utter human depravity, nor have I any faith in great +virtue, nor in the notion that the affairs of life may be removed beyond +good and evil. We shall outgrow, we have already outgrown, the +conception of sin, but we shall never pass beyond the idea of good and +evil; that would be equivalent to skipping the cardinal points in +geography. Nietzsche, an eminent poet and an extraordinary psychologist, +convinced himself that we should be able to leap over good and evil with +the help of a springboard of his manufacture. + +Not with this springboard, nor with any other, shall we escape from the +polar North and South of the moral life. + +Nietzsche, a product of the fiercest pessimism, was at heart a good man, +being in this respect the direct opposite of Rousseau, who, despite the +fact that he is forever talking about virtue, about sensibility, the +heart, and the sublimity of the soul, was in reality a low, sordid +creature. + +The philanthropist of Geneva shows the cloven hoof now and then. He +asks: "If all that it were necessary for us to do in order to inherit +the riches of a man whom we had never seen, of whom we had never even +heard, and who lived in the furthermost confines of China, were to press +a button and cause his death, what man living would not press that +button?" + +Rousseau is convinced that we should all press the button, and he is +mistaken, because the majority of men who are civilized would do nothing +of the kind. This, to my mind, is not to say that men are good; it is +merely to say that Rousseau, in his enthusiasm for humanity, as well as +in his aversion to it, is wide of the mark. The evil in man is not evil +of this active sort, so theatrical, so self-interested; it is a passive, +torpid evil which lies latent in the depths of the human animal, it is +an evil which can scarcely be called evil. + + + + +THE ROOT OF DISINTERESTED EVIL + + +Tell a man that an intimate friend has met with a great misfortune. His +first impulse is one of satisfaction. He himself is not aware of it +clearly, he does not realize it; nevertheless, essentially his emotion +is one of satisfaction. This man may afterward place his fortune, if he +has one, at the disposition of his friend, yes, even his life; yet this +will not prevent his first conscious reaction upon learning of the +misfortune of his friend, from being one which, although confused, is +nevertheless not far removed from pleasure. This feeling of +disinterested malice may be observed in the relations between parents +and children as well as in those between husbands and wives. At times it +is not only disinterested, but counter-interested. + +The lack of a name for this background of disinterested malice, which +does exist, is due to the fact that psychology is not based so much upon +phenomena as it is upon language. + +According to our current standards, latent evil of this nature is +neither of interest nor significance. Naturally, the judge takes account +of nothing but deeds; to religion, which probes more deeply, the intent +is of importance; to the psychologist, however, who attempts to +penetrate still further, the elemental germinative processes of volition +are of indispensable significance. + +Whence this foundation of disinterested malice in man? Probably it is an +ancestral legacy. Man is a wolf toward man, as Plautus observes, and the +idea has been repeated by Hobbes. + +In literature, it is almost idle to look for a presentation of this +disinterested, this passive evil, because nothing but the conscious is +literary. Shakespeare, in his _Othello_, a drama which has always +appeared false and absurd to me, emphasizes the disinterested malice of +Iago, imparting to him a character and mode of action which are beyond +those of normal men; but then, in order to accredit him to the +spectators, he adds also a motive, and represents him as being in love +with Desdemona. + +Victor Hugo, in _L'Homme qui Rit_, undertook to create a type after +the manner of Iago, and invented Barkilphedro, who embodies +disinterested yet active malice, which is the malice of the villain of +melodrama. + +But that other disinterested malice, which lurks in the sodden sediment +of character, that malice which is disinterested and inactive, and not +only incapable of drawing a dagger but even of writing an anonymous +note, this no writer but Dostoievski has had the penetration to reveal. +He has shown us at the same time mere inert goodness, lying passive in +the soul, without ever serving as a basis for anything. + + + + +MUSIC AS A SEDATIVE + + +Music, the most social of the arts, and that undoubtedly which possesses +the greatest future, presents enormous attractions to the bourgeoisie. +In the first place, it obviates the necessity of conversation; it is not +necessary to know whether your neighbor is a sceptic or a believer, a +materialist or a spiritualist; no possible argument can arise concerning +the meaning and metaphysics of life. Instead of war, there is peace. The +music lover may argue, but his conceptions are entirely circumscribed by +the music, and have no relation whatever either to philosophy or to +politics as such. The wars are small wars, and spill no blood. A +Wagnerite may be a freethinker or a Catholic, an anarchist or a +conservative. Even painting, which is an art of miserable general ideas, +is not so far removed from intelligence as is music. This explains why +the Greeks were able to attain such heights in philosophy, and yet fell +to such depths in music. + +Music has an additional merit. It lulls to sleep the residuum of +disinterested malice in the soul. + +As a majority of the lovers of painting and sculpture are second-hand +dealers and Jews in disguise, music lovers, for the most part, are a +debased people, envious, embittered and supine. + + + + +CONCERNING WAGNER + + +I am one of those who do not understand music, yet I am not completely +insensible to it. This does not prevent me, however, from entertaining a +strong aversion to all music lovers, and especially to Wagnerites. + +When Nietzsche, who apparently possessed a musical temperament, set +Bizet up against Wagner, he confessed, of course, premeditated +vindictiveness. "It is necessary to mediterraneanize music," declares +the German psychologist. But how absurd! Music must confine itself to +the geographical parallel where it was born; it is Mediterranean, +Baltic, Alpine, Siberian. Nor is the contention valid that an air should +always have a strongly marked rhythm, because, if this were the case, we +should have nothing but dance music. Certainly, music was associated +with the dance in the beginning, but a sufficient number of years have +now elapsed to enable each of these arts to develop independently. + +As regards Nietzsche's hostility to the theatocracy of Wagner, I share +it fully. This business of substituting the theatre for the church, and +teaching philosophy singing, seems ridiculous to me. I am also out of +patience with the wooden dragons, swans, stage fire, thunder and +lightning. + +Although it may sound paradoxical, the fact is that all this scenery is +in the way. I have seen King Lear in Paris, at the Theatre Antoine, +where it was presented with very nearly perfect scenery. When the King +and the fool roamed about the heath in the third act, amid thunder and +lightning, everybody was gazing at the clouds in the flies and watching +for the lightning, or listening to the whistling of the wind; no one +paid any attention to what was said by the characters. + + + + +UNIVERSAL MUSICIANS + + +German music is undoubtedly the most universal music, especially that of +Mozart and Beethoven. It seems as if there were fewer particles of their +native soil imbedded in the works of these two masters than is common +among their countrymen. They bring out in sharp relief the cultural +internationalism of Germany. + +Mozart is an epitome of the grace of the eighteenth century; he is at +once delicate, joyous, serene, gallant, mischievous. He is a courtier of +whatever country one will. Sometimes, when listening to his music, I ask +myself: "Why is it that this, which must be of German origin, seems to +be part of all of us, to have been designed for us all?" + +Beethoven, too, like Mozart, is a man without a country. As the one +manipulates his joyous, soft, serene rhythms, the other throbs and +trembles with obscure meanings and pathetic, heartrending laments, the +source of which lies hidden as at the bottom of some mine. + +He is a Segismund who complains against the gods and against his fate in +a tongue which knows no national accent. A day will come when the +negroes of Timbuktu will listen to Mozart's and Beethoven's music and +feel that it belongs to them, as truly as it ever did to the citizens of +Munich or of Vienna. + + + + +THE FOLK SONG + + +The folk song lies at the opposite pole from universal music. It is +music which smacks most of the soil whereon it has been produced. By its +very nature it is intelligible at all times to all persons in the +locality, if only because music is not an intellectual art; it deals in +rhythms, it does not deal in ideas. But beyond the fact of its +intelligibility, music possesses different attractions for different +people. The folk song preserves to us the very savour of the country in +which we were born; it recalls the air, the climate that we breathed and +knew. When we hear it, it is as if all our ancestors should suddenly +present themselves. I realize that my tastes may be barbaric, but if +there could only be one kind of music, and I were obliged to choose +between the universal and the local, my preference would be wholly for +the latter, which is the popular music. + + + + +ON THE OPTIMISM OF EUNUCHS + + +In a text book designed for the edification of research workers--a +specimen of peculiarly disagreeable tartuffery--the histologist, Ramon y +Cajal, who, as a thinker, has always been an absolute mediocrity, +explains what the young scholar should be, in the same way that the +Constitution of 1812 made it clear what the ideal Spanish citizen should +be. + +So we know now the proper character of the young scholar. He must be +calm, optimistic, serene ... and all this with ten or twelve coppers in +his pocket! + +Some friends inform me that in the Institute for Public Education at +Madrid, where an attempt is made to give due artistic orientation to the +pupils, they have contrived an informal classification of the arts in +the order of their importance; first comes painting; then, music; and, +last, literature. + +Considering carefully what may be the reasons for such a sequence, it +would appear that the purpose must be to deprive the student of any +occasion for becoming pessimistic. Certainly nobody will ever have his +convictions upset by looking at ancient cloths daubed over with linseed +oil, nor by the bum-ta-ra of music. But, to my mind, in a country like +Spain, it is better that our young men should be dissatisfied than that +they should go to the laboratory every day in immaculate blouses, +chatter like proper young gentlemen about El Greco, Cezanne and the +Ninth Symphony, and never have the brains to protest about anything. +Back of all this correctness may be divined the optimism of eunuchs. + + + + +II + +MYSELF, THE WRITER + +TO MY READERS THIRTY YEARS HENCE + + +Among my books there are two distinct classes: Some I have written with +more effort than pleasure, and others I have written with more pleasure +than effort. + +My readers apparently are not aware of this distinction, although it +seems evident to me. Can it be that true feeling is of no value in a +piece of literature, as some of the decadents have thought? Can it be +that enthusiasm, weariness, loathing, distress and ennui never transpire +through the pages of a book? Indubitably none of them transpire unless +the reader enters into the spirit of the work. And, in general, the +reader does not enter into the spirit of my books. I cherish a hope +which, perhaps, may be chimerical and ridiculous, that the Spanish +reader thirty or forty years hence, who takes up my books, whose +sensibilities, it may be, have been a little less hardened into +formalism than those of the reader of today, will both appreciate and +dislike me more intelligently. + + + + +YOUTHFUL WRITINGS + + +As I turn over the pages of my books, now already growing old, I receive +the impression that, like a somnambulist, I have frequently been walking +close to the cornice of a roof, entirely unconsciously, but in imminent +danger of falling off; again, it seems to me that I have been travelling +paths beset with thorns, which have played havoc with my skin. + +I have maintained myself rather clumsily for the most part, yet at times +not without a certain degree of skill. + +All my books are youthful books; they express turbulence; perhaps their +youth is a youth which is lacking in force and vigour, but nevertheless, +they are youthful books. + +Among thorns and brambles there lies concealed a tiny Fountain of Youth +in my soul. You may say that its waters are bitter and saline, instead +of being crystalline and clear. And it is true. Yet the fountain flows +on, and bubbles, and gurgles and splashes into foam. That is enough for +me. I do not wish to dam it up, but to let the water run and remove +itself. I have always felt kindly toward anything that removes itself. + + + + +THE BEGINNING AND END OF THE JOURNEY + + +I formerly considered myself a young man of protoplasmic capabilities, +and I entertained very little enthusiasm for form until after I had +talked with some Russians. Since then I have realized that I was more +clean cut, more Latin, and a great deal older than I had supposed. + +"I see that you belong to the _ancient regime_," a Frenchwoman remarked +to me in Rome. + +"I? Impossible!" + +"Yes," she insisted. "You are a conversationalist. You are not an +elegant, sprucely dressed abbe; you are an abbe who is cynical and ill- +natured, who likes to fancy himself a savage amid the comfortable +surroundings of the drawing-room." + +The Frenchwoman's observation set me to thinking. + +Can it be that I am hovering in the vicinity of Apollo's Temple without +realizing it? + +Possibly my literary life has been merely a journey from the Valley of +Dionysus to the Temple of Apollo. Now somebody will tell me that art +begins only on the bottom step of the Temple of Apollo. And it is true. +But there is where I stop--on the bottom step. + + + + +MELLOWNESS AND THE CRITICAL SENSE + + +Whenever my artistic conscience reproaches me, I always think: If I were +to undertake to write these books today, now that I am aware of their +defects, I should never write them. Nevertheless, I continue to write +others with the same old faults. Shall I ever attain that mellowness of +soul in which all the vividness of impression remains, yet in which it +has become possible to perfect the expression? I fear not. Most likely, +when I reach the stage of refining the expression, I shall have nothing +to say, and so remain silent. + + + + +SENSIBILITY + + +In my books, as in most that are modern, there is an indefinable +resentment against life and against society. + +Resentment against life is of far more ancient standing than resentment +against society. + +The former has always been a commonplace among philosophers. + +Life is absurd, life is difficult of direction, life is a disease, the +better part of the philosophers have told us. + +When man turned his animosity against society, it became the fashion to +exalt life. Life is good; man, naturally, is magnanimous, it was said. +Society has made him bad. + +I am convinced that life is neither good nor bad; it is like Nature, +necessary. And society is neither good nor bad. It is bad for the man +who is endowed with a sensibility which is excessive for his age; it is +good for a man who finds himself in harmony with his surroundings. + +A negro will walk naked through a forest in which every drop of water is +impregnated with millions of paludal germs, which teems with insects, +the bites of which produce malignant abcesses, and where the temperature +reaches fifty degrees Centigrade in the shade. + +A European, accustomed to the sheltered life of the city, when brought +face to face with such a tropical climate, without means of protection, +would die. + +Man needs to be endowed with a sensibility which is proper to his epoch +and his environment; if he has less, his life will be merely that of a +child; if he has just the right measure, it will be the life of an +adult; if he has more, he will be an invalid. + + + + +ON DEVOURING ONE'S OWN GOD + + +It is said that the philosopher Averroes was wont to remark: "What a +sect these Christians are, who devour their own God!" + +It would seem that this divine alimentation ought to make men themselves +divine. But it does not; our theophagists are human--they are only too +human, as Nietzsche would have it. + +There can be no doubt but that the Southern European races are the most +vivacious, the most energetic, as well as the toughest in the world. +They have produced all the great conquerors. Christianity, when it found +it necessary to overcome them, innoculated them with its Semitic virus, +but this virus has not only failed to make them weaker, but, on the +contrary, it has made them stronger. They appropriated what suited them +in the Asiatic mentality, and proceeded to make a weapon of their +religion. These cruel Levantine races, thanks only to Teutonic +penetration, are at last submitting to a softening process, and they +will become completely softened upon the establishment in Europe of the +domination of the Slav. + +Meanwhile they maintain their sway in their own countries. + +"They are quite inoffensive," we are told. + +Nonsense! They would burn Giordano Bruno as willingly now as they did in +the old days. + +There is a great deal of fire remaining in the hearts of our +theophagists. + + + + +ANARCHISM + + +In an article appearing in _Hermes_, a magazine published in +Bilbao, Salaverria assumes that I have been cured of my anarchism, and +that I persist in a negative and anarchistic attitude in order to retain +my literary clientele; which is not the fact. In the first place, I can +scarcely be said to have a clientele; in the second place, a small +following of conservatives is much more lucrative than a large one of +anarchists. It is true that I am withdrawing myself from the festivals +of Pan and the cult of Dionysus, but I am not substituting for them, +either outwardly or inwardly, the worship of Yahveh or of Moloch. I have +no liking for Semitic traditions--none and none whatever! I am not able, +like Salaverria, to admire the rich simply because they are rich, nor +people in high stations because they happen to occupy them. + +Salaverria assumes that I have a secret admiration for grand society, +generals, magistrates, wealthy gentlemen from America, and Argentines +who shout out: "How perfectly splendid!" I have the same affection for +these things that I have for the cows which clutter up the road in front +of my house. I would not be Fouquier-Tinville to the former nor butcher +to the latter; but my affection then has reached its limit. Even when I +find something worthy of admiration, my inclination is toward the small. +I prefer the Boboli Gardens to those of Versailles, and Venetian or +Florentine history to that of India. + +Great states, great captains, great kings, great gods, leave me cold. +They are all for peoples who dwell on vast plains which are crossed by +mighty rivers, for the Egyptians, for the Chinese, for the Hindus, for +the Germans, for the French. + +We Europeans who are of the region of the Pyrenees and the Alps, love +small states, small rivers, and small gods, whom we may address +familiarly. + +Salaverria is also mistaken when he says that I am afraid of change. I +am not afraid. My nature is to change. I am predisposed to develop, to +move from here to there, to reverse my literary and political views if +my feelings or my ideas alter. I avoid no reading except that which is +dull; I shall never retreat from any performance except a vapid one, nor +am I a partisan either of austerity or of consistency. Moreover, I am +not a little dissatisfied with myself, and I would give a great deal to +have the pleasure of turning completely about, if only to prove to +myself that I am capable of a shift of attitude which is sincere. + + + + +NEW PATHS + + +Some months since three friends met together in an old-fashioned +bookshop on the venerable Calle del Olivo--a writer, a printer, and +myself. + +"Fifteen years ago all three of us were anarchists," remarked the +printer. + +"What are we today?" I inquired. + +"We are conservatives," replied the man who wrote. "What are you?" + +"I believe that I have the same ideas I had then." + +"You have not developed if that is so," retorted the writer with a show +of scorn. + +I should like to develop, but into what? How? Where am I to find the +way? + +When sitting beside the chimney, warming your feet by the fire as you +watch the flames, it is easy to imagine that there may be novel walks to +explore in the neighbourhood; but when you come to look at the map you +find that there is nothing new in the whole countryside. + +We are told that ambition means growth. It does not with me. Ortega y +Gasset believes that I am a man who is constitutionally unbribable. I +should not go so far as to say that, but I do say that I do not believe +that I could be bribed in cold blood by the offer of material things. If +Mephistopheles wishes to purchase my soul, he cannot do it with a +decoration or with a title; but if he were to offer me sympathy, and be +a little effusive while he is about it, adding then a touch of +sentiment, I am convinced that he could get away with it quite easily. + + + + +LONGING FOR CHANGE + + +Just as the aim of politicians is to appear constant and consistent, +artists and literary men aspire to change. + +Would that the desire of one were as easy of attainment as that of the +other! + +To change! To develop! To acquire a second personality which shall be +different from the first! This is given only to men of genius and to +saints. Thus Caesar, Luther, and Saint Ignatius each lived two distinct +lives; or, rather, perhaps, it was one life, with sides that were +obverse and reverse. + +The same thing occurs sometimes also among painters. The evolution of El +Greco in painting upsets the whole theory of art. + +There is no instance of a like transformation either in ancient or +modern literature. Some such change has been imputed to Goethe, but I +see nothing more in this author than a short preliminary period of +exalted feeling, followed by a lifetime dominated by study and the +intellect. + +Among other writers there is not even the suggestion of change. +Shakespeare is alike in all his works; Calderon and Cervantes are always +the same, and this is equally true of our modern authors. The first +pages of Dickens, of Tolstoi or of Zola could be inserted among the +last, and nobody would be the wiser. + +Even the erudite rhetorical poets, the Victor Hugos, the Gautiers, and +our Spanish Zorrillas, never get outside of their own rhetoric. + + + + +BAROJA, YOU WILL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING + +(_A Refrain_) + + +"Baroja does not amount to anything, and I presume that he will never +amount to anything," Ortega y Gasset observes in the first issue of the +_Spectator_. + +I have a suspicion myself that I shall never amount to anything. +Everybody who knows me has always thought the same. + +When I first went to school in San Sebastian, at the age of four--and it +has rained a great deal since that day--the teacher, Don Leon Sanchez y +Calleja, who made a practice of thrashing us with a very stiff pointer +(oh, these hallowed traditions of our ancestors!), looked me over and +said: + +"This boy will prove to be as sulky as his brother. He will never amount +to anything." + +I studied for a time in the Institute of Pamplona with Don Gregorio +Pano, who taught us mathematics; and this old gentleman, who looked like +the Commander in _Don Juan Tenorio_, with his frozen face and his +white beard, remarked to me in his sepulchral voice: + +"You are not going to be an engineer like your father. You will never +amount to anything." + +When I took therapeutics under Don Benito Hernando in San Carlos, Don +Benito planted himself in front of me and said: + +"That smile of yours, that little smile ... it is impertinent. Don't you +come to me with any of your satirical smiles. You will never amount to +anything, unless it is negative and useless." + +I shrugged my shoulders. + +Women who have known me always tell me: "You will never amount to +anything." + +And a friend who was leaving for America volunteered: + +"When I return in twenty or thirty years, I shall find all my +acquaintances situated differently: one will have become rich, another +will have ruined himself, this fellow will have entered the cabinet, +that one will have been swallowed up in a small town; but you will be +exactly what you are today, you will live the same life, and you will +have just two pesetas in your pocket. That is as far as you will get." + +The idea that I shall never amount to anything is now deeply rooted in +my soul. It is evident that I shall never become a deputy, nor an +academician, nor a Knight of Isabella the Catholic, nor a captain of +industry, nor alderman, nor Member of the Council, nor a common cheat, +nor shall I ever possess a good black suit. + +And yet when a man has passed forty, when his belly begins to take on +adipose tissue and he puffs out with ambition, he ought to be something, +to sport a title, to wear a ribbon, to array himself in a black frock +coat and a white waistcoat; but these ambitions are denied to me. The +professors of my childhood and my youth rise up before my eyes like the +ghost of Banquo, and proclaim: "Baroja, you will never amount to +anything." + +When I go down to the seashore, the waves lap my feet and murmur: +"Baroja, you will never amount to anything." The wise owl that perches +at night on our roof at Itzea calls to me: "Baroja, you will never +amount to anything," and even the crows, winging their way across the +sky, incessantly shout at me from above: "Baroja, you will never amount +to anything." + +And I am convinced that I never shall amount to anything. + + + + +THE PATRIOTISM OF DESIRE + + +I may not appear to be a very great patriot, but, nevertheless, I am. +Yet I am unable to make my Spanish or Basque blood an exclusive +criterion for judging the world. If I believe that a better orientation +may be acquired by assuming an international point of view, I do not +hold it improper to cease to feel, momentarily, as a Spaniard or a +Basque. + +In spite of this, a longing for the accomplishment of what shall be for +the greatest good of my country, normally obsesses my mind, but I am +wanting in the patriotism of lying. + +I should like to have Spain the best place in the world, and the Basque +country the best part of Spain. + +The feeling is such a natural and common one that it seems scarcely +worth while to explain it. + +The climate of Touraine or of Tuscany, the Swiss lakes, the Rhine and +its castles, whatever is best in Europe, I would root up, if I had my +say, and set down here between the Pyrenees and the Straits of +Gibraltar. At the same time, I should denationalize Shakespeare, +Dickens, Tolstoi and Dostoievski, making them Spaniards. I should see +that the best laws and the best customs were those of our country. But +wholly apart from this patriotism of desire, lies the reality. What is +to be gained by denying it? To my mind nothing is to be gained. + +There are many to whom the only genuine patriotism is the patriotism of +lying, which in fact is more of a matter of rhetoric than it is of +feeling. + +Our falsifying patriots are always engaged in furious combat with other +equally falsifying internationalists. + +"Nothing but what we have is of any account," cries one party. + +"No, it is what the other fellow has," cries the other. + +Patriotism is telling the truth as to one's country, in a sympathetic +spirit which is guided and informed by a love of that which is best. + +Now some one will say: "Your patriotism, then, is nothing but an +extension of your ego; it is purely utilitarian." + +Absolutely so. But how can there be any other kind of patriotism? + + + + +MY HOME LANDS + + +I have two little countries, which are my homes--the Basque provinces, +and Castile; and by Castile I mean Old Castile. I have, further, two +points of view from which I look out upon the world: one is my home on +the Atlantic; the other is very like a home to me, on the Mediterranean. + +All my literary inspirations spring either from the Basque provinces or +from Castile. I could never write a Gallegan or a Catalan novel. + +I could wish that my readers were all Basques and Castilians. + +Other Spaniards interest me less. Spaniards who live in America, or +Americans, do not interest me at all. + + + + +CRUELTY AND STUPIDITY + + +It appears from an article written by Azorin in connection with a book +of mine, that, to my way of thinking, there are two enormities which are +incredible and intolerable. They are cruelty and stupidity. + +Civilized man has no choice but to despise these manifestations of +primitive, brute existence. + +We may be able to tolerate stupidity and lack of comprehension when they +are simple and wholly natural, but what of an utter obtuseness of +understanding which dresses itself up and becomes rhetorical? Can +anything be more disagreeable? + +When a fly devours the pollen greedily from the pyrethrum, which, as we +know, will prove fatal to him, it becomes clear at once that flies have +no more innate sagacity than men. When we listen to a conservative +orator defending the past with salvos of rhetorical fireworks, we are +overwhelmed by a realization of the complete odiousness of ornamental +stupidity. + +With cruelty it is much the same. The habits of the sphex surprise while +bull fights disgust us. The more cruelty and stupidity are dressed up, +the more hateful they become. + + + + +THE ANTERIOR IMAGE + + +I wrote an article once called, "The Spaniard Fails to Understand." +While I do not say it was good, the idea had some truth in it. It is a +fact that failure to understand is not exclusively a Spanish trait, but +the failing is a human one which is more accentuated among peoples of +backward culture, whose vitality is great. + +Like a child the Spaniard carries an anterior image in his mind, to +which he submits his perceptions. A child is able to recognize a man or +a horse more easily in a toy than in a painting by Raphael or by +Leonardo da Vinci, because the form of the toy adapts itself more +readily to the anterior image which he has in his consciousness. + +It is the same with the Spaniard. Here is one of the causes of his want +of comprehension. One rejects what does not fit in with one's +preconceived scheme of things. + +I once rode to Valencia with two priests who were by no means unknown. +One of them had been in the convent of Loyola at Azpeitia for four +years. We talked about our respective homes; they eulogized the +Valencian plain while I replied that I preferred the mountains. As we +passed some bare, treeless hills such as abound near Chinchilla, one of +them--the one, in fact, who had been at Loyola--remarked to me: + +"This must remind you of your own country." + +I was dumbfounded. How could he identify those arid, parched, glinting +rocks with the Basque landscape, with the humid, green, shaded +countryside of Azpeitia? It was easy to see that the anterior image of a +landscape existing in the mind of that priest, provided only the general +idea of a mountain, and that he was unable to distinguish, as I was, +between a green mountain overgrown with turf and trees, and an arid +hillside of dry rocks. + +An hypothesis explaining the formation of visual ideas has been +formulated by Wundt, which he calls the hypothesis of projection. It +attributes to the retina an innate power of referring its impressions +outward along straight lines, in directions which are determined. + +According to Mueller, who has adopted this hypothesis, what we perceive +is our own retina under the category of space, and the size of the +retinal image is the original unit of measurement applied by us to +exterior objects. + +The Spaniard like a child, will have to amplify his retinal image, if he +is ever to amount to anything. He will have to amplify it, and, no +doubt, complicate it also. + + + + +THE TRAGI-COMEDY OF SEX + + +It is very difficult to approach the sex question and to treat it at +once in a clear and dignified manner. And yet, who can deny that it +furnishes the key to the solution of many of the enigmas and obscurities +of psychology? + +Who can question that sex is one of the bases of temperament? + +Nevertheless, the subject may be discussed permissibly in scientific and +very general terms, as by Professor Freud. What is unpardonable is any +attempt to bring it down to the sphere of the practical and concrete. + +I am convinced that the repercussion of the sexual life is felt through +all the phenomena of consciousness. + +According to Freud, an unsatisfied desire produces a series of obscure +movements in consciousness which eat at the soul as electricity is +generated in a storage battery, and this accumulation of psychic energy +must needs produce a disturbance in the nervous system. + +Such nervous disturbances, which are of sexual origin, produced by the +strangulation of desires, shape our mentality. + +What is the proper conduct for a man during the critical years between +the ages of fourteen and twenty-three? He should be chaste, the priests +will say, shutting their eyes with an hypocritical air. He can marry +afterwards and become a father. + +A man who can be chaste without discomfort between fourteen and twenty- +three, is endowed with a most unusual temperament. And it is one which +is not very common at present. As a matter of fact, young men are not +chaste, and cannot be. + +Society, as it is well aware of this, opens a little loophole to +sexuality, which is free from social embarrassment--the loophole of +prostitution. + +As the bee-hive has its workers, society has its prostitutes. + +After a few years of sexual life without the walls, passed in the +surrounding moats of prostitution, the normal man is prepared for +marriage, with its submission to social forms and to standards which are +clearly absurd. + +There is no possibility of escaping this dilemma which has been decreed +by society. + +The alternative is perversion or surrender. + +To a man of means, who has money to spend, surrender is not very +difficult; he has but to follow the formula. Prostitution among the +upper classes does not offend the eye, and it reveals none of the sores +which deface prostitution as it is practised among the poor. Marriage, +too, does not sit heavily upon the rich. With the poor, however, shame +and surrender walk hand in hand. + +To practise the baser forms of prostitution is to elbow all that is most +vile in society, and to sink to its level oneself. Then, to marry +afterwards without adequate means, is a continual act of self-abasement. +It is to be unable to maintain one's convictions, it is to be compelled +to fawn upon one's superiors, and this is more true in Spain than it is +elsewhere, as everything here must be obtained through personal +influence. + +Suppose one does not submit? If you do not submit you are lost. You are +condemned irretrievably to perversions, to debility, to hysteria. + +You will find yourself slinking about the other sex like a famished +wolf, you will live obsessed by lewd ideas, your mind will solace itself +with swindles and cheats wherewith to provide a solution of the riddle +of existence, you will become the mangy sheep that the shepherd sets +apart from the flock. + +Ever since early youth, I have been clearly conscious of this dilemma, +and I have determined and said: "No; I choose the abnormal--give me +hysteria, but submission, never!" + +So derangement and distortion have come to my mind. + +If I could have followed my inclinations freely during those fruitful +years between fifteen and twenty-five, I should have been a serene +person, a little sensual, perhaps, and perhaps a little cynical, but I +should certainly not have become violent. + +The morality of our social system has disturbed and upset me. + +For this reason I hate it cordially, and I vent upon it in full measure, +as best I may, all the spleen I have to give. + +I like at times to disguise this poison under a covering of art. + + + + +THE VEILS OF THE SEXUAL LIFE + + +I am unable to feel any spontaneous enthusiasm for fecundity such as +that which Zola sings. Moreover, I regard the whole pose as a +superstition. I may be a member of an exhausted race,--that is quite +possible,--but between the devotion to our species which is professed by +these would-be re-peoplers of countries, and the purely selfish +preoccupation of the Malthusians, my sympathies are all with the latter. +I see nothing beyond the individual in this sex question--beyond the +individual who finds himself inhibited by sexual morality. + +This question must be faced some day and cleared up, it must be seen +divested of all mystery, of all veils, of all deceit. As the hygiene of +nutrition has been studied openly, in broad daylight, so it must be with +sex hygiene. + +As a matter of fact, the notion of sin, then, that of honour, and, +finally, dread of syphilis and other sexual diseases, rest like a cloud +on the sexual life, and they are jumbled together with all manner of +fantastic and literary fictions. + +Obviously, rigid sexual morality is for the most part nothing more than +the practice of economy in disguise. Let us face this whole problem +frankly. A man has no right to let his life slip by to gratify fools' +follies. We must have regard to what is, with Stendhal. It will be +argued of course that these veils, these subterfuges of the sexual life, +are necessary. No doubt they are to society, but they are not to the +individual. There are those who believe that the interests of the +individual and of society are one, but we, who are defenders of the +individual as against the State, do not think so. + + + + +A LITTLE TALK + + +Myself: I often think I should have been happier if I had been impotent. + +My Hearers: How can you say such a terrible thing? + +Myself: Why not? To a man like me, sex is nothing but a source of +misery, shame and cheap hypocrisy, as it is to most of us who are +obliged to get on without sufficient means under this civilization of +ours. Now you know why I think that I should have been better off if I +had been impotent. + + +UPON THE SUPPOSED MORALITY OF MARRIAGE + +Single life is said to be selfish and detestable. Certainly it is +immoral. But what of marriage? Is it as moral as it is painted? + +I am one who doubts it. + +Marriage, like all other social institutions of consequence, is +surrounded by a whole series of common assumptions that cry out to be +cleared up. + +There is a pompous and solemn side to marriage, and there is a private +museum side. + +Marriage poses as an harmonious general concord in which religion, +society, and nature join. + +But is it anything of the kind? It would appear to be doubtful. If the +sole purpose of marriage is to rear children, a man ought to live with a +woman only until she becomes pregnant, and, after that moment, he ought +not to touch her. But here begins the second part. The woman bears a +baby; the baby is nourished by the mother's milk. The man has no right +to co-habit with his wife during this period either, because it will be +at the risk of depriving the child of its natural source of nutriment. + +In consequence, a man must either co-habit with his wife once in two +years, or else there will be some default in the marriage. + +What is he to do? What is the moral course? Remember that three factors +have combined to impose the marriage. One, the most far-reaching today, +is economic; another, which is also extremely important, is social, and +the third, now rapidly losing its hold, but still not without influence, +is religious. The three forces together attempt to mould nature to their +will. + +Economic pressure and the high cost of living make against the having of +children. They encourage default. + +"How are we to have all these children?" the married couple asks. "How +can we feed and educate them?" + +Social pressure also tends in the same direction. Religious morality, +however, still persists in its idea of sin, although the potency of this +sanction is daily becoming less, even to the clerical eye. + +If nature had a vote, it would surely be cast in favour of polygamy. Man +is forever sexual, and in equal degree, until the verge of decrepitude. +Woman passes through the stages of fecundation, pregnancy, and +lactation. + +There can be no doubt but that the most convenient, the most logical and +the most moral system of sexual intercourse, naturally, is polygamy. + +But the economic subdues the natural. Who proposes to have five wives +when he cannot feed one? + +Society has made man an exclusively social product, and set him apart +from nature. + +What can the husband and wife do, especially when they are poor? Must +they overload themselves with children, and then deliver them up to +poverty and neglect because God has given them, or shall they limit +their number? + +If my opinion is asked, I advise a limit--although it may be artificial +and immoral. + +Marriage presents us with this simple choice: we may either elect the +slow, filthy death of the indigent workingman, of the carabineer who +lives in a shack which teems with children, or else the clean life of +the French, who limit their offspring. + +The middle class everywhere today is accepting the latter alternative. +Marriage is stripping off its morality in the bushes, and it is well +that it should do so. + + + + +THE SOVEREIGN CROWD + + +A strong man may either dominate and subdue the sovereign crowd when he +confronts it, as he would a wild beast, or he may breathe his thoughts +and ideas into it, which is only another form of domination. + +As I am not strong enough to do either, I shun the sovereign masses, so +as not to become too keenly conscious of their collective bestiality and +ill temper. + + + + +THE REMEDY + + +Every man fancies that he has something of the doctor in him, and +considers himself competent to advise some sort of a cure, so I come now +with a remedy for the evils of life. My remedy is constant action. It is +a cure as old as the world, and it may be as useful as any other, and +doubtless it is as futile as all the rest. As a matter of fact, it is no +remedy at all. + +The springs of action lie all within ourselves, and they derive from the +vigour and health which we have inherited from our fathers. The man who +possesses them may draw on them whenever he will, but the man who is +without them can never acquire them, no matter how widely he may seek. + + + + +III + +THE EXTRARADIUS + + +The extraradius of a writer may be said to be made up of his literary +opinions and inclinations. I wish to expose the literary cell from the +nucleus out and to unfold it, instead of proceeding in from the +covering. + +The term may seem pedantic and histological, but it has the attraction +to my mind of a reminiscence of student days. + + + + +RHETORIC AND ANTI-RHETORIC + + +If I were to formulate my opinions upon style, I should say: "Imitations +of other men's styles are bad, but a man's own style is good." + +There is a store of common literary finery, almost all of which is in +constant use and has become familiar. + +When a writer lays hands on any of this finery spontaneously, he makes +it his own, and the familiar flower blossoms as it does in Nature. + +When an author's inspiration does not proceed from within out, but +rather from without in, then he becomes at once a bad rhetorician. + +I am one of those writers who employ the least possible amount of this +common store of rhetoric. There are various reasons for my being anti- +rhetorical. In the first place I do not believe that the pages of a bad +writer can be improved by following general rules; if they do gain in +one respect, they lose inevitably in another. + +So much for one reason; but I have others. + +Languages display a tendency to follow established forms. Thus Spanish +tends toward Castilian. But why should I, a Basque, who never hears +Castilian spoken in my daily life in the accents of Avila or of Toledo, +endeavour to imitate it? Why should I cease to be a Basque in order to +appear Castilian, when I am not? Not that I cherish sectional pride, far +from it; but every man should be what he is, and if he can be content +with what he is, let him be held fortunate. + +For this reason, among others, I reject Castilian turns and idioms when +they suggest themselves to my mind. Thus if it occurs to me to write +something that is distinctively Castilian, I cast about for a phrase by +means of which I may express myself in what to me is a more natural way, +without suggestion of our traditional literature. + +On the other hand, if the pure rhetoricians, of the national school, who +are _castizo_--the Mariano de Cavias, the Ricardo Leons--should +happen to write something simply, logically and with modern directness, +they would cast about immediately for a roundabout way of saying it, +which might appear elaborate and out of date. + + + + +THE RHYTHM OF STYLE + + +There are persons who imagine that I am ignorant of the three or four +elementary rules of good writing, which everybody knows, while others +believe that I am unacquainted with syntax. Senor Bonilla y San Martin +has conducted a search through my books for deficiencies, and has +discovered that in one place I write a sentence in such and such +fashion, and that in another I write something else in another, while in +a third I compound a certain word falsely. + +With respect to the general subject of structural usage which he raises, +it would be easy to cite ample precedent among our classic authors; with +respect to the word _misticidad_ occurring in one of my books, I +have put it into the mouth of a foreigner. The faults brought to light +by Senor Bonilla are not very serious. But what of it? Suppose they +were? + +An intelligent friend once said to me: + +"I don't know what is lacking in your style; I find it acrid." I feel +that this criticism is the most apt that has yet been made. + +My difficulty in writing Castilian does not arise from any deficiency in +grammar nor any want of syntax. I fail in measure, in rhythm of style, +and this shocks those who open my books for the first time. They note +that there is something about them that does not sound right, which is +due to the fact that there is a manner of respiration in them, a system +of pauses, which is not traditionally Castilian. + +I should insist upon the point at greater length, were it not that the +subject of style is cluttered up with such a mass of preconceptions, +that it would be necessary to redefine our terminology, and then, after +all, perhaps we should not understand one another. Men have an idea that +they are thinking when they operate the mechanism of language which they +have at command. When somebody makes the joints of language creak, they +say: "He does not know how to manage it." Certainly he does know how to +manage it. Anybody can manage a platitude. The truth is simply this: the +individual writer endeavours to make of language a cloak to fit his +form, while, contrarywise, the purists attempt to mould their bodies +till they fit the cloak. + + + + +RHETORIC OF THE MINOR KEY + + +Persons to whom my style is not entirely distasteful, sometimes ask: + +"Why use the short sentence when it deprives the period of eloquence and +rotundity?" + +"Because I do not desire eloquence or rotundity," I reply. "Furthermore, +I avoid them." The vast majority of Spanish purists are convinced that +the only possible rhetoric is the rhetoric of the major key. This, for +example, is the rhetoric of Castelar and Costa, the rhetoric which +Ricardo Leon and Salvador Rueda manipulate today, as it has been +inherited from the Romans. Its purpose is to impart solemnity to +everything, to that which already has it by right of nature, and to that +which has it not. This rhetoric of the major key marches with stately, +academic tread. At great, historic moments, no doubt it is very well, +but in the long run, in incessant parade, it is one of the most deadly +soporifics in literature; it destroys variety, it is fatal to subtlety, +to nice transitions, to detail, and it throws the uniformity of the +copybook over everything. + +On the other hand, the rhetoric of the minor key, which seems poor at +first blush, soon reveals itself to be more attractive. It moves with a +livelier, more life-like rhythm; it is less bombastic. This rhetoric +implies continence and basic economy of effort; it is like an agile man, +lightly clothed and free of motion. + +To the extent of my ability I always avoid the rhetoric of the major +key, which is assumed as the only proper style, the very moment that one +sits down to write Castilian. I should like, of course, to rise to the +heights of solemnity now and then, but very seldom. + +"Then what you seek," I am told, "is a familiar style like that of +Mesonero Romanos, Trueba and Pereda?" + +No, I am not attracted by that either. + +The familiar, rude, vulgar manner reminds me of a worthy bourgeois +family at the dinner table. There sits the husband in his shirt sleeves, +while the wife's hair is at loose ends and she is dirty besides, and all +the children are in rags. + +I take it that one may be simple and sincere without either affectation +or vulgarity. It is well to be a little neutral, perhaps, a little grey +for the most part, so that upon occasion the more delicate hues may +stand out clearly, while a rhythm may be employed to advantage which is +in harmony with actual life, which is light and varied, and innocent of +striving after solemnity. + +A modern poet, in my opinion, has illustrated this rhetoric of the minor +key to perfection. + +He is Paul Verlaine. + +A style like Verlaine's, which is non-sequent, macerated, free, is +indispensable to any mastery of the rhetoric of the minor key. This, to +me, has always been my literary ideal. + + + + +THE VALUE OF MY IDEAS + + +From time to time, my friend Azorin attempts to analyse my ideas. I do +not pretend to be in the secret of the scales, as such an assumption +upon my part would be ridiculous. As the pilot takes advantage of a +favourable wind, and if it does not blow, of one that is unfavourable, I +do the same. The meteorologist is able to tell with mathematical +accuracy in his laboratory, after a glance at his instruments, not only +the direction of the prevailing wind, but the atmospheric pressure and +the degree of humidity as well. I am able only, however, to say with the +pilot: "I sail this way," and then make head as best I may. + + + + +GENIUS AND ADMIRATION + + +I have no faith in the contention of the Lombrosians that genius is akin +to insanity, neither do I think that genius is an infinite capacity for +taking pains. Lombroso, for that matter, is as old-fashioned today as a +hoop skirt. + +Genius partakes of the miraculous. If some one should tell me that a +stick had been transformed into a snake by a miracle, naturally I should +not believe it; but if I should be asked whether there was not something +miraculous in the very existence of a stick or of a snake, I should be +constrained to acknowledge the miracle. + +When I read the lives of the philosophers in Diogenes Laertius, I arrive +at the conclusion that Epicurus, Zeno, Diogenes, Protagoras and the +others were nothing more than men who had common sense. Clearly, as a +corollary, I am obliged to conclude that the people we meet nowadays +upon the street, whether they wear gowns, uniforms or blouses, are mere +animals masquerading in human shape. + +Contradicting the assumption that the great men of antiquity were only +ordinary normal beings, we must concede the fact that most extraordinary +conditions must have existed and, indeed, have been pre-exquisite, +before a Greece could have arisen in antiquity, or an Athens in Greece, +or a man such as Plato in Athens. + +By very nature, the sources of admiration are as mysterious to my mind +as the roots of genius. Do we admire what we understand, or what we do +not understand? Admiration is of two kinds, of which the more common +proceeds from wonder at something which we do not understand. There is, +however, an admiration which goes with understanding. + +Edgar Poe composed several stories, of which _The Goldbug_ is one, +in which an impenetrable enigma is first presented, to be solved +afterwards as by a talisman; but, then, a lesson in cryptography ensues, +wherein the talisman is explained away, and the miraculous gives place +to the reasoning faculties of a mind of unusual power. + +He has done something very similar in his poem, _The Raven_, where +the poem is followed by an analysis of its gestation, which is called +_The Philosophy of Composition_. Would it be more remarkable to +write _The Raven_ by inspiration, or to write it through conscious +skill? To find the hidden treasure through the talisman of _The +Goldbug_, or through the possession of analytical faculties such as +those of the protagonist of Poe's tale? + +Much consideration will lead to the conclusion that one process is as +marvellous as the other. + +It may be said that there is nothing miraculous in nature, and it may be +said that it is all miraculous. + + + + +MY LITERARY AND ARTISTIC INCLINATIONS + + +Generally speaking, I neither understand old books very well, nor do I +care for them--I have been able to read only Shakespeare, and perhaps +one or two others, with the interest with which I approach modern +writers. + +It has sometimes seemed to me that the unreadableness of the older +authors might be made the foundation of a philosophic system. Yet I +have met with some surprises. + +One was that I enjoyed the _Odyssey_. + +"Am I a hypocrite?" I asked myself. + +I do not find old painters to be as incompatible as old authors. On the +contrary, my experience has been that they are the reverse. I greatly +prefer a canvas by Botticelli, Mantegna, El Greco or Velazquez to a +modern picture. + +The only famous painter of the past for whom I have entertained an +antipathy, is Raphael; yet, when I was in Rome and saw the frescos in +the Vatican, I was obliged again to ask myself if my attitude was a +pose, because they struck me frankly as admirable. + +I do not pretend to taste, but I am sincere; nor do I endeavour to be +consistent. Consistency does not interest me. + +The only consistency possible is a consistency which comes from without, +which proceeds from fear of public opinion, and anything of this sort +appears to me to be contemptible. + +Not to change because of what others may think, is one of the most +abject forms of slavery. + +Let us change all we can. My ideal is continual change--change of life, +change of home, of food, and even of skin. + + + + +MY LIBRARY + + +Among the things that I missed most as a student, was a small library. +If I had had one, I believe I should have dipped more deeply into books +and into life as well; but it was not given me. During the period which +is most fruitful for the maturing of the mind, that is, during the years +from twelve to twenty, I lived by turns in six or seven cities, and as +it was impossible to travel about with books, I never retained any. + +A lack of books was the occasion of my failure to form the habit of re- +reading, of tasting again and again and of relishing what I read, and +also of making notes in the margin. + +Nearly all authors who own a small library, in which the books are +properly arranged, and nicely annotated, become famous. + +I am not sentimentalizing about stolid, brazen note-taking, such as that +with which the gentlemen of the Ateneo debase their books, because that +merely indicates barbarous lack of culture and an obtuseness which is +Kabyline. + +Having had no library in my youth, I have never possessed the old +favourites that everybody carries in his pocket into the country, and +reads over and over until he knows them by heart. + +I have looked in and out of books as travellers do in and out of inns, +not stopping long in any of them. I am very sorry but it is too late now +for the loss to be repaired. + + + + +ON BEING A GENTLEMAN + + +Viewed from without, I seem to impress some as a crass, crabbed person, +who has very little ability, while others regard me as an unhealthy, +decadent writer. Then Azorin has said of me that I am a literary +aristocrat, a fine and comprehensive mind. + +I should accept Azorin's opinion very gladly, but personality needs to +be hammered severely in literature before it leaves its slag. Like metal +which is removed from the furnace after casting and placed under the +hammer, I would offer my works to be put to the test, to be beaten by +all hammers. + +If anything were left, I should treasure it then lovingly; if nothing +were left, we should still pick up some fragments of life. + +I always listen to the opinions of the non-literary concerning my books +with the greatest interest. My cousin, Justo Goni, used to express his +opinion without circumlocution. He always carried off my books as they +appeared, and then, a long time after, would give his opinion. + +Of _The Way of Perfection_ he said: + +"Good, yes, very good; but it is so tiresome." + +I realized that there was some truth in his view. + +When he read the three novels to which I had given the general title, +_The Struggle for Life_, he stopped me on the Calle de Alcala one +day and said: + +"You have not convinced me." + +"How so?" + +"Your hero is a man of the people, but he is falsified. He is just like +you are; you can never be anything but a gentleman." + +This gentility with which my cousin reproached me, and without doubt he +was correct, is common to nearly all Spanish writers. + +There are no Spaniards at present, and there never have been any at any +other time, who write out of the Spanish soul, out of the hearts of the +people. Even Dicenta did not. His _Juan Jose_ is not a workingman, +but a young gentleman. He has nothing of the workingman about him beyond +the label, the clothes, and such externals. + +Galdos, for example, can make the common people talk; Azorin can portray +the villages of Castile, set on their arid heights, against backgrounds +of blue skies; Blasco Ibanez can paint the life of the Valencians in +vivid colours with a prodigality that carries with it the taint of the +cheap, but none of them has penetrated into the popular soul. That would +require a great poet, and we have none. + + + + +GIVING OFFENCE + + +I have the name of being aggressive, but, as a matter of fact, I have +scarcely ever attacked any one personally. + +Many hold a radical opinion to be an insult. + +In an article in _La Lectura_, Ortega y Gasset illustrates my +propensity to become offensive by recalling that as we left the Ateneo +together one afternoon, we encountered a blind man on the Calle del +Prado, singing a _jota_, whereupon I remarked: "An unspeakable +song!" + +Admitted. It is a fact, but I fail to see any cause of offence. It is +only another way of saying more forcefully: "I do not like it, it does +not please me," or what you will. + +I have often been surprised to find, after expressing an opinion, that I +have been insulted bitterly in reply. + +At the outset of my literary career, Azorin and I shared the ill will of +everybody. + +When Maeztu, Azorin, Carlos del Rio and myself edited a modest magazine, +by the name of _Juventud_, Azorin and I were the ones principally +to be insulted. The experience was repeated later when we were both +associated with _El Globo_. + +Azorin, perhaps, was attacked and insulted more frequently, so that I +was often in a position to act as his champion. + +Some years ago I published an article in the _Nuevo Mundo_, in +which I considered Vazquez Mella and his refutation of the Kantian +philosophy, dwelling especially upon his seventeenth mathematical proof +of the existence of God. The thing was a burlesque, but a conservative +paper took issue with me, called me an atheist, a plagiarist, a drunkard +and an ass. As for being an atheist, I did not take that as an insult, +but as an honour. + +Upon another occasion, I published an article about Spanish women, with +particular reference to Basque women, in which I maintained that they +sacrificed natural kindliness and sympathy on the altars of honour and +religion, whereupon the Daughters of Mary of San Sebastian made answer, +charging that I was a degenerate son of their city, who had robbed them +of their honour, which was absolutely contrary to the fact. In passing, +they suggested to the editor of the _Nuevo Mundo_ that he should not +permit me to write again for the magazine. + +I wrote an article once dealing with Maceo and Cuba, whereupon a +journalist from those parts jumped up and called me a fat Basque ox. + +The Catalans have also obliged me with some choice insults, which I have +found engaging. When I lectured in Barcelona in the Casa del Pueblo, +_La Veu de Catalunya_ undertook to report the affair, picturing me +as talking platitudes before an audience of professional bomb throwers +and dynamiters, and experts with the Browning gun. + +Naturally, I was enchanted. + +Recently, when writing for the review _Espana_, I had a similar +experience, which reminded me of my connection with the smaller +periodicals of fifteen years ago. Some gentlemen, mostly natives of the +provinces, approached the editor, Ortega y Gasset, with the information +that I was not a fit person to contribute to a serious magazine, as what +I wrote was not so, while my name would ruin the sale of the weekly. + +These pious souls and good Christians imagined that I might need that +work in order to earn my living, so in the odour of sanctity they did +whatever lay in their power to deprive me of my means of support. Oh, +noble souls! Oh, ye of great heart! I salute you from a safe distance, +and wish you the most uncomfortable beds in the most intolerable wards +set apart for scurvy patients, in any hospital of your choosing, +throughout the world. + + + + +THIRST FOR GLORY + + +Fame, success, popularity, the illusion of being known, admired and +esteemed, appeal in different ways to authors. To Salvador Rueda, glory +is a triumphant entrance into Tegucigalpa, where he is taken to the +Spanish Casino, and crowned with a crown of real laurel. To Unamuno, +glory is the assurance that people will be interested in him at least a +thousand years after he is dead. And to others the only glory worth +talking about is that courted by the French writer, Rabbe, who busied +himself in Spain with la _gloire argent comptant_. Some yearn for a +large stage with pennons and salvos and banners, while others are +content with a smaller scene. + +Ortega y Gasset says that to me glory reduces itself to the proportions +of an agreeable dinner, with good talk across the table. + +And he is right. To mingle with pleasant, intelligent, cordial persons +is one of the more alluring sorts of fame. + +There is something seductive and ingratiating about table talk when it +is spirited. A luxurious dining room, seating eight or ten guests, of +whom three or four are pretty women, one of whom should be a foreigner; +as many men, none of them aristocrats--generally speaking, aristocrats +are disagreeable--nor shall we admit artists, for they are in the same +class as the aristocrats; one's neighbour, perhaps, is a banker, or a +Jew of aquiline feature, and then the talk touches on life and on +politics, relieved with a little gallantry toward the ladies, from time +to time allowing to each his brief opportunity to shine--all this, +beyond doubt, is most agreeable. + +I like, too, to spend an afternoon conversing with a number of ladies in +a comfortable drawing room, which is well heated. I visualize the +various rewards which are meted out by fame as being housed invariably +under a good roof. What is not intimate, does not appeal to me. + +I have often seen Guimera in a cafe on the Rambla in Barcelona, drinking +coffee at a table, alone and forlorn, in the midst of a crowd of shop +clerks and commercial travellers. + +"Is that Guimera?" I asked a Catalan journalist. + +"Yes." + +And then he told me that they had tendered him a tremendous testimonial +some months previously, which had been attended by I don't know how many +hundreds of societies, all marching with their banners. + +I have no very clear idea of just what Guimera has done, as it is many +years since I have gone to the theatre, but I know that he is considered +in Catalonia to be one of the glories of the country. + +I should not care for an apotheosis, and then find myself left forlorn +and alone to take my coffee afterwards with a horde of clerks. + +I may never write anything that will take the world by storm--most +probably not; but if I do, and it occurs to my fellow townsmen to +organize one of these celebrations with flags, banners and choral +societies, they need not count upon my attendance. They will not be able +to discover me even with the aid of Sherlock Holmes. + +When I am old, I hope to take coffee with pleasant friends, whether it +be in a palace or a porter's lodge. I neither expect nor desire flags, +committees, nor waving banners. + +Laurel does not seduce me, and you cannot do it with bunting. + + + + +ELECTIVE ANTIPATHIES + + +As I have expressed my opinions of other authors sharply, making them +public with the proper disgust, others have done the same with me, which +is but logical and natural, especially in the case of a writer such as +myself, who holds that sympathy and antipathy are of the very essence of +art. + +My opponents and myself differ chiefly in the fact that I am more +cynical than they, and so I disclose my personal animus quite +ingenuously, which my enemies fail to do. + +I hold that there are two kinds of morality; morality of work and +morality of play. The morality of work is an immoral morality, which +teaches us to take advantage of circumstances and to lie. The morality +of play, for the reason that it deals with mere futilities, is finer and +more chivalrous. + +I believe that in literature and in all liberal arts, the morality +should be the morality of play, while my opponents for the most part +hold that the morality of literature should be the morality of work. I +have never, consciously at least, been influenced in my literary +opinions by practical considerations. My ideas may have been capricious, +and they are,--they may even be bad,--but they have no ulterior +practical motive. + +My failure to be practical, together, perhaps, with an undue obtuseness +of perception, brings me face to face with critics of two sorts: one, +esthetic; the other, social. + +My esthetic critics say to me: + +"You have not perfected your style, you have not developed the technique +of your novels. You can scarcely be said to be literate." + +I shrug my shoulders and reply: "Are you sure?" + +My social critics reproach me for my negative and destructive views. I +do not know how to create anything, I am incapable of enthusiasm, I +cannot describe life, and so on. + +This feeling seems logical enough, if it is sincere, if it is honest, +and I accept it as such, and it does not offend me. + +But, as some of my esthetic critics tell me: "You are not an artist, you +do not know how to write," without feeling any deep conviction on the +subject, but rather fearing that perhaps I may be an artist after all +and that at last somebody may come to think so, so among my critics who +pose as defenders of society, there are those who are influenced by +motives which are purely utilitarian. + +I am reminded of servants shouting at a man picking flowers over the +garden wall, or an apple from the orchard as he passes, who raise their +voices as high as possible so as to make their officiousness known. + +They shout so that their masters will hear. + +"How dare that rascal pick flowers from the garden? How dare he defy us +and our masters? Shall a beggar, who is not respectable, tell us that +our laws are not laws, that our honours are not honours, and that we are +a gang of accomplished idiots?" + +Yes, that is just what I tell them, and I shall continue to do so as +long as it is the truth. + +Shout, you lusty louts in gaudy liveries, bark you little lap-dogs, +guard the gates, you government inspectors and carabineers! I shall look +into your garden, which is also my garden, I shall make off with +anything from it that I am able, and I shall say what I please. + + + + +TO A MEMBER OF SEVERAL ACADEMIES + + +A certain Basque writer, one Senor de Loyarte, who is a member of +several academies, and Royal Commissioner of Education, assails me +violently upon social grounds in a book which he has published, although +the attack is veiled as purely literary. + +Senor de Loyarte is soporific as a general rule, but in his polite +sortie against me, he is more amusing than is usual. His malice is so +keen that it very nearly causes him to appear intelligent. + +In literature, Senor de Loyarte--and why should Senor de Loyarte not be +associated with literature--presents the figure of a fat, pale, flabby +boy in a priests' school, skulking under the skirts of a Jesuit Father. + +Senor de Loyarte, like those little, chubby-winged cherubs on sacristy +ceilings, shakes his arrowlet at me and lets fling a _billet doux_. + +Senor de Loyarte says I smack of the cadaver, that I am a plagiarist, an +atheist, anti-religious, anti-patriotic, and more to boot. + +I shall not reply for it may be true. Yet it is also true that Senor de +Loyarte's noble words will please his noble patrons, from whom, perhaps, +he may receive applause even more substantial than the pat on the +shoulder of a Jesuit Father, or the smile of every good Conservative, +who is a defender of the social order. His book is an achievement which +should induct Senor de Loyarte into membership in several more +academies. Senor de Loyarte is already a Corresponding Member of the +Spanish Academy, or of the Academy of History, I am not quite sure +which; but they are all the same. Speaking of history, I should be +interested to know who did first introduce the sponge. + +Senor de Loyarte is destined to be a member, a member of academies all +his life. + + + + +IV + +ADMIRATIONS AND INCOMPATIBILITIES + + +Diogenes Laertius tells us that when Zeno consulted the oracle as to +what he should do in order to attain happiness in life, the deity +replied that he should assimilate himself with the dead. Having +understood, he applied himself exclusively to the study of books. + +Thus speaks Laertius, in the translation of Don Jose Ortiz y Sanz. I +confess that I should not have understood the oracle. However, without +consulting any oracle, I have devoted myself for some time to reading +books, whether ancient and modern, both out of curiosity and in order to +learn something of life. + + + + +CERVANTES, SHAKESPEARE, MOLIERE + + +For a long time, I thought that Shakespeare was a writer who was unique +and different from all others. It seemed to me that the difference +between him and other writers was one of quality rather than of +quantity. I felt that, as a man, Shakespeare was of a different kind of +humanity; but I do not think so now. Shakespeare is no more the +quintessence of the world's literature than Plato and Kant are the +quintessence of universal philosophy. I once admired the philosophy and +characters of the author of Hamlet; when I read him today, what most +impresses me is his rhetoric, and, above all, his high spirit. + +Cervantes is not very sympathetic to me. He is tainted with the perfidy +of the man who has made a pact with the enemy (with the Church, the +aristocracy, with those in power), and then conceals the fact. +Philosophically, in spite of his enthusiasm for the Renaissance, he +appears vulgar and pedestrian to me, although he towers above all his +contemporaries on account of the success of a single invention, that of +Don Quixote and Sancho, which is to literature what the discovery of +Newton was to Physics. + +As for Moliere, he is a poor fellow, who never attains the exuberance of +Shakespeare, nor the invention that immortalizes Cervantes. But his +taste is better than Shakespeare's and he is more social, more modern +than Cervantes. The half-century or more that separates the work of +Cervantes from that of Moliere, is not sufficient to explain this +modernity. Between the Spain of _Quixote_ and the France of _Le +Bourgeois Gentilhomme_, lies something deeper than time. Descartes +and Gassendi had lived in France, while, on the other hand, the seed of +Saint Ignatius Loyola lay germinating in the Spain of Cervantes. + + + + +THE ENCYCLOPEDISTS + + +A French journalist who visited my house during the summer, remarked: + +"The ideas were great in the French Revolution; it was not the men." I +replied: "I believe that the men of the French Revolution were great, +but not the ideas." + +Of all the philosophical literature of the pre-revolutionary period, +what remains today? + +What books exert influence? In France, excerpts from Montesquieu, +Diderot and Rousseau are still read in the schools, but outside of +France, they are read nowhere. + +Only an extraordinary person would go away for the summer with +Montesquieu's _Esprit des Lois_, or Jean Jacques Rousseau's +_Emile_ in his grip. Montesquieu is demonstration of the fact that +a book cannot live entirely by virtue of correctness of style. + +Of all the writers who enjoyed such fame in the eighteenth century, the +only one who will bear reading today is Voltaire--the Voltaire of the +_Dictionnaire Philosophique_ and of the novels. + +Diderot, whom the French consider a great man, is of no interest +whatsoever to the modern mind, at least to the mind which is not French. +He is almost as dull as Rousseau. _La Religieuse_ is an utterly +false little book. Some years ago I loaned a copy to a young lady who +had just come from a convent. "I have never seen anything like this," +she said to me. "It is a fantasy with no relation to the truth." That +was my idea. _Jacques, le fataliste_ is tiresome; _Le Neveu de +Rameau_ gives at first the impression that it is going to amount to +something, to something powerful such as the _Satiricon_ of +Petronius, or _El Buscon_ of Quevedo; but at the end, it is +nothing. + +The only writer of the pre-revolutionary period who can be read today +with any pleasure--and this, perhaps, is because he does not attempt +anything--is Chamfort. His characters and anecdotes are sufficiently +highly flavoured to defy the action of time. + + + + +THE ROMANTICISTS + + +_Goethe_ + +If a militia of genius should be formed on Parnassus, Goethe would be +the drum-major. He is so great, so majestic, so serene, so full of +talent, so abounding in virtue, and yet, so antipathetic! + +_Chateaubriand_ + +A skin of Lacrymae Christi that has turned sour. At times the good +Viscount drops molasses into the skin to take away the taste of vinegar; +at other times, he drops in more vinegar to take away the sweet taste of +the molasses. He is both moth-eaten and sublime. + +_Victor Hugo_ + +Victor Hugo, the most talented of rhetoricians! Victor Hugo, the most +exquisite of vulgarians! Victor Hugo--mere common sense dressed up as +art. + +_Stendhal_ + +The inventor of a psychological automaton moved by clock work. + +_Balzac_ + +A nightmare, a dream produced by indigestion, a chill, rare acuteness, +equal obtuseness, a delirium of splendours, cheap hardware, of pretence +and bad taste. Because of his ugliness, because of his genius, because +of his immorality, the Danton of printers' ink. + +_Poe_ + +A mysterious sphinx who makes one tremble with lynx-like eyes, the +goldsmith of magical wonders. + +_Dickens_ + +At once a mystic and a sad clown. The Saint Vincent de Paul of the +loosened string, the Saint Francis of Assisi of the London Streets. +Everything is gesticulation, and the gesticulations are ambiguous. When +we think he is going to weep, he laughs; when we think he is going to +laugh, he cries. A remarkable genius who does everything he can to make +himself appear puny, yet who is, beyond doubt, very great. + +_Larra_ [Footnote: A Spanish poet and satirist (1809-37), famous +under the pseudonym of Figaro. He committed suicide. The poet Zorrilla +first came into prominence through some verses read at his tomb.] + +A small, trained tiger shut up in a tiny cage. He has all the tricks of +a cat; he mews like one, he lets you stroke his back, and there are +times when his fiercer instincts show in his eyes. Then you realize that +he is thinking: "How I should love to eat you up!" + + + + +THE NATURALISTS + + +_Flaubert_ + +Flaubert is a heavy-footed animal. It is plain that he is a Norman. All +his work has great specific gravity. He disgusts me. One of Flaubert's +master strokes was the conception of the character of Homais, the +apothecary, in _Madame Bovary_. I cannot see, however, that Homais +is any more stupid than Flaubert himself, and he may even be less so. + +_The Giants_ + +The good Zola, vigorous, dull and perspiring, dubbed his contemporaries, +the French naturalistic novelists, "Giants." What an imagination was +possessed by Zola! + +These "Giants" were none other than the Goncourts, whose insignificance +approached at times imbecility, and in addition, Alphonse Daudet, with +the air of a cheap comedian and an armful of mediocre books--a truly +French diet, feeble, but well seasoned. These poor Giants, of whom Zola +would talk, have become so weak and shrunken with time, that nobody is +able any longer to make them out, even as dwarfs. + + + + +THE SPANISH REALISTS + + +The Spanish realists of the same period are the height of the +disagreeable. The most repugnant of them all is Pereda. When I read him, +I feel as if I were riding on a balky, vicious mule, which proceeds at +an uncomfortable little trot, and then, all of a sudden, cuts stilted +capers like a circus horse. + + + + +THE RUSSIANS + + +_Dostoievski_ + +One hundred years hence Dostoievsky's appearance in literature will be +hailed as one of the most extraordinary events of the nineteenth +century. Among the spiritual fauna of Europe, his place will be that of +the Diplodocus. + +_Tolstoi_ + +A number of years ago I was in the habit of visiting the Ateneo, and I +used to argue there with the habitues, who in general have succeeded in +damming up the channels through which other men receive ideas. + +"To my mind, Tolstoi is a Greek," I observed. "He is serene, clear, his +characters are god-like; all they think of are their love affairs, their +passions. They are never called upon to face the acute problem of +subsistence, which is fundamental with us." + +"Utter nonsense! There is nothing Greek about Tolstoi," declared +everybody. + +Some years later at a celebration in honour of Tolstoi, Anatole France +chanced to remark: "Tolstoi is a Greek." + +When this fell from Anatole France, the obstruction in the channels +through which these gentlemen of the Ateneo received their ideas ceased +for the moment to exist, and they began to believe that, after all, +Tolstoi might very well have something of the Greek in him. + + + + +THE CRITICS + + +_Sainte Beuve_ + +Sainte Beuve writes as if he had always said the last word, as if he +were precisely at the needle of the scales. Yet I feel that this writer +is not as infallible as he thinks. His interest lies in his anecdote, in +his malevolent insinuation, in his bawdry. Beyond these, he has the same +Mediterranean features as the rest of us. + +_Taine_ + +Hippolyte Taine is also one of those persons who think they understand +everything. And there are times when he understands nothing. His +_History of English Literature_, which makes an effort to be broad +and generous, is one of the pettiest, most niggardly histories ever +written anywhere. His articles on Shakespeare, Walter Scott and Dickens +have been fabricated by a French professor, which is to say that they +are among the most wooden productions of the universities of Europe. + +_Ruskin_ + +He impresses me as the Prince of Upstarts, grandiloquent and at the same +time unctuous, a General in a Salvation Army of Art, or a monk who is a +devotee of an esthetic Doctrine which has been drawn up by a Congress of +Tourists. + +_Croce_ + +The esthetic theory of Benedetto Croce has proved another delusion to +me. Rather than an esthetic theory, it is a study of esthetic theories. +As in most Latin productions, the fundamental question is not discussed +therein, but the method of approaching that question. + +_Clarin_ [Footnote: Pseudonym of Leopoldo Alas, a Spanish critic +and novelist of the transition, born in Asturias, whose influence was +widely felt in Spanish letters. He died in 1905.] + +I have a poor opinion of Clarin, although some of my friends regard him +with admiration. As a man, he must have been envious; as a novelist, he +is dull and unhappy; as a critic, I am not certain that he was ever in +the right. + + + + +V + +THE PHILOSOPHERS + + +A thirst for some knowledge of philosophy resulted in consulting Dr. +Letamendi's book on pathology during my student days. I also purchased +the works of Kant, Fichte, and Schopenhauer in the cheap editions which +were published by Zozaya. The first of these that I read was Fichte's +_Science of Knowledge_, of which I understood nothing. It stirred +in me a veritable indignation against both author and translator. Was +philosophy nothing but mystification, as it is assumed to be by artists +and shop clerks? + +Reading _Parerga and Paralipomena_ reconciled me to philosophy. +After that I bought in French _The Critique of Pure Reason_, _The +World as Will and Idea_, and a number of other books. + +How was it that I, who am gifted with but little tenacity of purpose, +mustered up perseverance enough to read difficult books for which I was +without preparation? I do not know, but the fact is that I read them. + +Years after this initiation into philosophy, I began reading the works +of Nietzsche, which impressed me greatly. + +Since then I have picked at this and that in order to renew my +philosophic store, but without success. Some books and authors will not +agree with me, and I have not dared to venture others. I have had a +volume of Hegel's _Logic_ on my table for a long time. I have +looked at it, I have smelled of it, but courage fails me. + +Yet I am attracted to metaphysics more than to any other phase of +philosophy. Political philosophy, sociology and the common sense schools +please me least. Hobbes, Locke, Bentham, Comte and Spencer I have never +liked at all. Even their Utopias, which ought to be amusing, bore me +profoundly, and this has been true from Plato's _Republic_ to +Kropotkin's _Conquest of Bread_ and Wells's _A Modern Utopia_. +Nor could I ever become interested in the pseudo-philosophy of +anarchism. One of the books which have disappointed me the most is Max +Stirner's _Ego and His Own_. + +Psychology is a science which I should like to know. I have therefore +skimmed through the standard works of Wundt and Ziehen. After reading +them, I came to the conclusion that the psychology which I am seeking, +day by day and every day, is not to be found in these treatises. It is +contained rather in the writings of Nietzsche and the novels of +Dostoievski. In the course of time, I may succeed, perhaps, in entering +the more abstract domains of the science. + + + + +VI + +THE HISTORIANS + + +Miss Blimber, the school teacher in Dickens's _Dombey and Son_, +could have died happily had she known Cicero. Even if such a thing were +possible I should have no great desire to know Cicero, but I should be +glad to listen to a lecture by Zeno in the portico of the Poecile at +Athens, or to Epicurus's meditations in his garden. + +My ignorance of history has prevented me from becoming deeply interested +in Greece, although now this begins to embarrass me, as a curiosity +about and sympathy for classical art stirs within me. If I were a young +man and had the leisure, I might even begin the study of Greek. + +As it is, I feel that there are two Greeces: one of statues and temples, +which is academic and somewhat cold; the other of philosophers and +tragedians, who convey to my mind more of an impression of life and +humanity. + +Apart from the Greek, which I know but fragmentarily, I have no great +admiration for ancient literatures. The _Old Testament_ never +aroused any devotion in me. Except for _Ecclesiastes_ and one or +two of the shorter books, it impresses me as repulsively cruel and +antipathetic. + +Among the Greeks, I have enjoyed Homer's _Odyssey_ and the comedies +of Aristophanes. I have read also Herodotus, Plutarch and Diogenes +Laertius. I am not an admirer of academic, well written books, so I +prefer Diogenes Laertius to Plutarch. Plutarch impresses me as having +composed and arranged his narratives; not so Diogenes Laertius. Plutarch +forces the morality of his personages to the fore; Diogenes gives +details of both the good and the bad in his. Plutarch is solid and +systematic; Diogenes is lighter and lacks system. I prefer Diogenes +Laertius to Plutarch, and if I were especially interested in any of the +illustrious ancients of whom they write, I should vastly prefer the +letters of the men themselves, if any existed, or otherwise the gossip +of their tentmakers or washerwomen, to any lives written of them by +either Diogenes Laertius or Plutarch. + + + + +THE ROMAN HISTORIANS + + +When I turned to the composition of historical novels, I desired to +ascertain if the historical method had been reduced to a system. I read +Lucian's _Instructions for Writing History_, an essay with the same +title, or with a very similar one, by the Abbe Mably, some essays by +Simmel, besides a book by a German professor, Ernst Bernheim, +_Lehrbuch der historischen Methode_. + +I next read and re-read the Roman historians Julius Caesar, Tacitus, +Sallust and Suetonius. + +_Sallust_ + +All these Roman historians no doubt were worthy gentlemen, but they +create an atmosphere of suspicion. When reading them, you suspect that +they are not always telling the whole truth. I read Sallust and feel +that he is lying; he has composed his narrative like a novel. + +In the _Memorial de Sainte Helene_, it is recorded that on March +26, 1816, Napoleon read the conspiracy of Catiline in the _Roman +History_. The Emperor observed that he was unable to understand what +Catiline was driving at. No matter how much of a bandit he may have +been, he must have had some object, some social purpose in view. + +The observation of this political genius is one which must occur to all +who read Sallust's book. How could Catiline have secured the support of +the most brilliant men of Rome, among them of Julius Caesar, if his only +plan and object had been to loot and burn Rome? It is not logical. +Evidently Sallust lies, as governmental writers in Spain lie today when +they speak of Lerroux or Ferrer, or as the republican supporters of +Thiers lied in 1871, characterizing the Paris Commune. + +_Tacitus_ + +Tacitus is another great Roman historian who is theatrical, +melodramatic, solemn, full of grand gestures. He also creates an +atmosphere of suspicion, of falsehood. Tacitus has something of the +inquisitor in him, of the fanatic in the cause of virtue. He is a man of +austere moral attitude, which is a pose that a thoroughgoing scamp finds +it easy to assume. + +A temperament such as that of Tacitus is fatal to theatrical peoples +like the Italians, Spaniards, and French of the South. From it springs +that type of Sicilian, Calabrian, and Andalusian politician who is a +great lawyer and an eloquent orator, who declaims publicly in the forum, +and then reaches an understanding privately with bandits and thugs. + +_Suetonius_ + +Suetonius, although deficient both in the pomp and sententiousness of +Tacitus, makes no attempt to compose his story, nor to impart moral +instruction, but tells us what he knows, simply. His _Lives of the +Twelve Caesars_ is the greatest collection of horrors in history. You +leave it with the imagination perturbed, scrutinizing yourself to +discover whether you may not be yourself a hog or a wild beast. +Suetonius gives us an account of men rather than a history of the +politics of emperors, and surely this method is more interesting and +veracious. I place more faith in the anecdotes which grow up about an +historical figure than I do in his laws. + +Polybius is a mixture of scepticism and common sense. He is what Bayle, +Montesquieu and Voltaire will come to be centuries hence. + +As far as Caesar's _Commentaries_ are concerned, in spite of the +fact that they have been manipulated very skilfully, they are one of the +most satisfying and instructive books that can be read. + + + + +MODERN AND CONTEMPORARY HISTORIANS + + +I have very little knowledge of the historians of the Renaissance or of +those prior to the French Revolution. Apart from the chroniclers of +individual exploits, such as Lopez de Ayala, Brantome, and the others, +they are wholly colourless, and either pseudo-Roman or pseudo-Greek. +Even Machiavelli has a personal, Italian side, which is mocking and +incisive--and this is all that is worth while in him--and he has a +pretentious pseudo-Roman side, which is unspeakably tiresome. + +Generally considered, the more carefully composed and smoothly varnished +the history, the duller it will be found; while the more personal +revelations it contains, the more engaging. Most readers today, for +example, prefer Bernal Diaz del Castillo's _True History of the +Conquest of New Spain_ to Solis's _History of the Conquest of +Mexico_. One is the book of a soldier, who had a share in the deeds +described, and who reveals himself for what he is, with all his +prejudices, vanities and arrogance; the other is a scholar's attempt to +imitate a classic history and to maintain a monotonous music throughout +his paragraphs. + +Practically all the historians who have followed the French Revolution +have individual character, and some have too much of it, as has Carlyle. +They distort their subject until it becomes a pure matter of fantasy, or +mere literature, or sinks even to the level of a family discussion. + +Macaulay's moral pedantry, Thiers's cold and repulsive cretinism, the +melodramatic, gesticulatory effusiveness of Michelet are all typical +styles. + +Historical bazaars _a la_ Cesare Cantu may be put on one side, as +belonging to an inferior genre. They remind me of those great nineteenth +century world's fairs, vast, miscellaneous and exhausting. + +As for the German historians, they are not translated, so I do not know +them. I have read only a few essays of Simmel, which I think extremely +keen, and Stewart Chamberlain's book upon the foundations of the +nineteenth century, which, if the word France were to be substituted for +the word Germany, might easily have been the production of an advanced +nationalist of the _Action Francaise_. + + + + +VII + +MY FAMILY + +FAMILY MYTHOLOGY + + +The celebrated Vicomte de Chateaubriand, after flaunting an ancestry of +princes and kings in his _Memoires d'outre-tombe_, then turns about +and tells us that he attaches no importance to such matters. + +I shall do the same. I intend to furbish up our family history and +mythology, and then I shall assert that I attach no importance to them. +And, what is more, I shall be telling the truth. + +My researches into the life of Aviraneta [Footnote: A kinsman of Baroja +and protagonist of his series of historical novels under the general +title of _Memoirs of a Man of Action_.] have drawn me of late to +the genealogical field, and I have looked into my family, which is +equivalent to compounding with tradition and even with reaction. + +I have unearthed three family myths: the Goni myth, the Zornoza myth, +and the Alzate myth. + +The Goni myth, vouched for by an aunt of mine who died in San Sebastian +at an age of ninety or more, established, according to her, that she was +a descendant of Don Teodosio de Goni, a Navarrese _caballero_ who +lived in the time of Witiza, and who, after killing his father and +mother at the instigation of the devil, betook himself to Mount Aralar +wearing an iron ring about his neck, and dragging a chain behind him, +thus pilloried to do penance. One day, a terrible dragon appeared before +him during a storm. + +Don Teodosio lifted up his soul unto God, and thereupon the Archangel +Saint Michael revealed himself to him, in his dire extremity, and broke +his chains, in commemoration of which event Don Teodosio caused to be +erected the chapel of San Miguel in Excelsis on Mount Aralar. + +There were those who endeavoured to convince my aunt that in the time of +this supposititious Don Teodosio, which was the early part of the eighth +century, surnames had not come into use in the Basque country, and even, +indeed, that there were at that time no Christians there--in short they +maintained that Don Teodosio was a solar myth; but they were not able to +convince my aunt. She had seen the chapel of San Miguel on Aralar, and +the cave in which the dragon lived, and a document wherein Charles V. +granted to Juan de Goni the privilege of renaming his house the Palace +of San Miguel, as well as of adding a dragon to his coat of arms, +besides a cross in a red field, and a _broken_ chain. + +The Zornoza myth was handed down through my paternal grandmother of that +name. + +I remember having heard this lady say when I was a child, that her +family might be traced in a direct line to the chancellor Pero Lopez de +Ayala, and, I know not through what lateral branches, also to St. +Francis Xavier. + +My grandmother vouched for the fact that her father had sold the +documents and parchments in which these details were set forth, to a +titled personage from Madrid. + +The Zornozas boast an escutcheon which is embellished with a band, a +number of wolves, and a legend whose import I do not recall. + +Indeed, wolves occur in all the escutcheons of the Baroja, Alzate and +Zornoza families, in so far as I have been able to discover, and I take +them to be more or less authentic. We have wolves passant, wolves +rampant, and wolves mordant. The Goni escutcheon also displays hearts. +If I become rich, which I do not anticipate, I shall have wolves and +hearts blazoned on the doors of my dazzling automobile, which will not +prevent me from enjoying myself hugely inside of it. + +Turning to the Alzate myth, it too runs back to antiquity and the +primitive struggles of rival families of Navarre and Labourt. The +Alzates have been lords of Vera ever since the fourteenth century. + +The legend of the Alzates of Vera de Navarra relates that one Don +Rodrigo, master of the village in the fifteenth century, fell in love +with a daughter of the house of Urtubi, in France, near Urruna, and +married her. Don Rodrigo went to live in Urtubi and became so thoroughly +gallicized that he never cared to return to Spain, so the people of Vera +banded together, dispossessed him of his honours and dignity, and +sequestrated his lands. + +In the early part of the nineteenth century, my great-grandfather, +Sebastian Ignacio de Alzate, was among those who assembled at Zubieta in +1813 to take part in the rebuilding of San Sebastian, and this great- +grandfather was uncle to Don Eugenio de Aviraneta, a good relative of +mine, protagonist of my latest books. + +St. Francis Xavier, Don Teodosio de Goni, Pero Lopez de Ayala, +Aviraneta--a saint, a revered worthy, an historian, a conspirator--these +are our family gods. + +Now let me take my stand with Chateaubriand as attaching no importance +to such things. + + + + +OUR HISTORY + + +Baroja is a hamlet in the province of Alava in the district of +Penacerrada. According to Fernandez Guerra, it is an Iberian name +derived from Asiatic Iberia. I believe that I have read in Campion that +the word Baroja is compounded from the Celtic _bar_, meaning +mountain, and the Basque _otza, ocha_ meaning cold. In short, a +cold mountain. + +The district of Penacerrada, which includes Baroja, is an austere land, +covered with intricate mountain ranges which are clad with trees and +scrub live oaks. + +Hawks abound. In his treatise on falconry, Zuniga mentions the Bahari +falcon, propagated principally among the mountains of Penacerrada. + +My ancestors originally called themselves Martinez de Baroja. One Martin +had a son who was known as Martinez. This Martinez (son of Martin) +doubtless left the village, and as there were others of the name +Martinez (sons of Martin), they dubbed him the Martinez of Baroja, or +Martinez de Baroja. + +The Martinez de Barojas lived in that country for many years; they were +hidalgos, Christians of old stock. And there is still a family of the +name in Penacerrada. + +One Martinez de Baroja, by name Juan, who lived in the village of +Samiano, upon becoming outraged because of an attempt to force him to +pay tribute to the Count of Salinas--in those days a very natural source +of offence--took an appeal in the year 1616 from a ruling of the +Prosecuting Attorney of His Majesty and the Alcaldes and Regidors of the +Earldom of Trevino, and he was sustained by the Chamber of Hidalgos at +Valladolid, which decided in his favour in a decree dated the eighth day +of the month of August, 1619. + +This same hidalgo, Juan Martinez de Baroja, moved the enforcement of +this decree, as is affirmed by a writ of execution which is inscribed on +forty-five leaves of parchment, to which is attached a leaden seal +pendant from a cord of silk, at the end of which may be found the +stipulations of the judgment entered against the Municipality and +Corporation of the Town and Earldom of Trevino and the Village of +Samiano. + +The Martinez de Barojas, despite the fact that they sprang from the land +of the falcon and the hawk, in temper must have been dark, heavy, rough. +They were members of the Brotherhood of San Martin de Penacerrada, which +apparently was of great account in those regions, besides being regidors +and alcaldes of the Santa Hermandad, a rural police and judicial +organization which extended throughout the country. + +In the eighteenth century, one of the family, my great-grandfather +Rafael, doubtless possessing more initiative, or having more of the hawk +in him than the others, grew tired of ploughing up the earth, and left +the village, turning pharmacist, setting up in 1803 at Oyarzun, in +Guipuzcoa. This Rafael shortened his name and signed himself Rafael de +Baroja. + +Don Rafael must have been a man of modern sympathies, for he bought a +printing press and began to issue pamphlets and even occasional books. + +Evidently Don Rafael was also a man of radical ideas. He published a +newspaper at San Sebastian in 1822 and 1823, which he called _El +Liberal Guipuzcoano_. I have seen only one copy of this, and that was +in the National Library. + +That this newspaper was extremely liberal, may be judged by the articles +that were reprinted from it in _El Espectador_, the Masonic journal +published at Madrid during the period. Don Rafael had connections both +with constitutionalists and members of the Gallic party. There must have +been antecedents of a liberal character in our family, as Don Rafael's +uncle, Don Juan Jose de Baroja, at first a priest at Pipaon and later at +Vitoria, had been enrolled in the Basque _Sociedad Economica_. + +Don Rafael had two sons, Ignacio Ramon and Pio. They settled in San +Sebastian as printers. Pio was my grandfather. + +My second family name, Nessi, as I have said before, comes out of +Lombardy and the city of Como. + +The Nessis of Como fled from Austrian rule, and came to Spain, probably +peddling mousetraps and _santi boniti barati_. + +One of the Nessis, who survived until a short time ago, always said that +the family had been very comfortably off in Lombardy, where one of his +relatives, Guiseppe Nessi, a doctor, had been professor in the +University of Pavia during the eighteenth century, besides being major +in the Austrian Army. + +As mementos of the Italian branch of the family, I still preserve a few +views of Lake Como in my house, a crude image of the Christ of the +Annunziatta, stamped on cloth, and a volume of a treatise on surgery by +Nessi, which bears the _imprimatur_ of the Inquisition at Venice. + + + + +VIII + +MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD + +SAN SEBASTIAN + + +I was born in San Sebastian on the 28th of December, 1872. So I am not +only a Guipuzcoan but a native of San Sebastian. The former I regard as +an honour, but the latter means very little to me. + +I should prefer to have been born in a mountain hamlet or in a small +coast town, rather than in a city of summer visitors and hotel keepers. + +Garat, who was a most conventional person who lived in Bayonne, always +used to maintain that he came from Ustariz. I might say that I am from +Vera del Bidasoa, but I should not deceive myself. + +There are several reasons why I dislike San Sebastian: + +In the first place, the city is not beautiful, when it might well be so. +It is made up of straight streets which are all alike, together with two +or three monuments that are horrible. The general construction is +miserable and shoddy. Although excellent stone abounds in the +neighbourhood, no one has had the sense to erect anything either noble +or dignified. Cheap houses confront the eye on all sides, whether simple +or pretentious. Whenever the citizens of San Sebastian raise their +hands--and in this they are abetted by the _Madrilenos_--they do +something ugly. They have defaced Monte Igueldo already, and now they +are defacing the Castillo. Tomorrow, they will manage somehow to spoil +the sea, the sky, and the air. + +As for the spirit of the city, it is lamentable. There is no interest in +science, art, literature, history, politics, or anything else. All that +the inhabitants think about are the King, the Queen Regent, yachts, bull +fights, and the latest fashions in trousers. + +San Sebastian is a conglomeration of parvenus and upstarts from +Pamplona, Saragossa, Valladolid, Chile and Chuquisaca, who are anxious +to show themselves off. Some do this by walking alongside of the King, +or by taking coffee with a famous bull-fighter, or by bowing to some +aristocrat. The young men of San Sebastian are among the most worthless +in Spain. I have always looked upon them as _infra_ human. + +As for the ladies, many of them might be taken for princesses in summer, +but their winter tertulias are on a level with a porter's lodge where +they play _julepe_. It is a card game, but the word means dose, and +Madame Recamier would have fainted at the mention of it. + +When I observe these parvenus' attempts to shine, I think to myself: +"The ostentation of the freshman year at college. How unfortunate that +some of us have moved on to the doctorate!" + +No one reads in San Sebastian. They run over the society news, and then +drop the paper for fear their brains will begin to smoke. + +This city, imagining itself to be so cultivated, although it really is a +new town, is under the domination of a few Jesuit fathers, who, like +most of the present days sons of Loyola, are coarse, heavy and wholly +lacking in real ability. + +The Jesuit manages the women, which is not a very difficult thing to do, +as he holds the leading strings of the sexual life in his hands. In +addition he influences the men. + +He assists the young who are of good social standing, who belong to +distinguished families, and brings about desirable matches. The poor can +do anything they like. They are at liberty to eat, to get drunk, to do +whatever they will except to read. These unhappy, timid, torpid clerks +and hangers-on imagine they are free men whenever they get drunk. They +do not see that they are like the Redskins, whom the Yankees poisoned +with alcohol so as to hold them in check. + +I inspected a club installed in a house in the older part of the city +some years ago. + +A sign on one door read "Library." When it was opened, I was shown, +laughing, a room filled with bottles. + +"If a Jesuit could see this, he would be in ecstasy," I exclaimed. "Yes, +replacing books with wines and liquors! What a business for the sons of +Saint Ignatius!" + +In spite of all its display, all its tinsel, all its Jesuitism, all its +bad taste, San Sebastian will become an important, dignified city within +a very few years. When that time comes, the author who has been born +there, will not prefer to hail from some hamlet buried in the mountains, +rather than from the capital of Guipuzcoa. But I myself prefer it. I +have no city, and I hold myself to be strictly extra-urban. + + + + +MY PARENTS + + +My father, Serafin Baroja y Zornoza, was a mining engineer, who wrote +books both in Castilian and Basque, and he, too, came from San +Sebastian. My mother's name is Carmen Nessi y Goni. She was born in +Madrid. + +I should be a very good man. My father was a good man, although he was +capricious and arbitrary, and my mother is a good woman, firmer and more +positive in her manifestations of virtue. Yet, I am not without +reputation for ferocity, which, perhaps, is deserved. + +I do not know why I believed for a long while that I had been born in +the Calle del Puyuelo in San Sebastian, where we once lived. The street +is well within the old town, and truly ugly and forlorn. The mere idea +of it was and is distasteful to me. + +When I complained to my mother about my birthplace and its want of +attractiveness, she replied that I was born in a beautiful house near +the esplanade of La Zurriola, fronting on the Calle de Oquendo, which +belonged to my grandmother and looked out upon the sea, although the +house does so no longer, as a theatre has been erected directly in +front. I am glad that I was born near the sea, because it suggests +freedom and change. + +My paternal grandmother, Dona Concepcion Zornoza, was a woman of +positive ideas and somewhat eccentric. She was already old when I knew +her. She had mortgaged several houses which she owned in the city in +order to build the house which was occupied by us in La Zurriola. + +Her plan was to furnish it and rent it to King Amadeo. Before Amadeo +arrived at San Sebastian, however, the Carlist war broke out, and the +monarch of the house of Savoy was compelled to abdicate, and my +grandmother to abandon her plans. + +My earliest recollection is the Carlist attempt to bombard San +Sebastian. It is a memory which has now grown very dim, and what I saw +has been confused with what I have heard. I have a confused recollection +of the bringing in of soldiers on stretchers, and of having peeped over +the wall of a little cemetery near the city, in which corpses were laid +out, still unburied. + +As I have said, my father was a mining engineer, but during the war he +was engaged in teaching natural history at the Institute. I have no idea +how this came about. He was also one of the Liberal volunteers. + +I have a vague idea that one night I was taken from my bed, wrapped up +in a mantle, and carried to a chalet on the Concha, belonging to one +Errazu, who was a relative of my mother's. We lived there for a time in +the cellar of the chalet. + +Three shells, which were known in those days as cucumbers, dropped on +the house, and wrecked the roof, making a great hole in the wall which +separated our garden from the next. + + + + +MONSIGNOR, THE CAT + + +Monsignor was a handsome yellow cat belonging to us while we were living +in the cellar of Senor Errazu's chalet. + +From what I have since learned, his name was a tribute to the +extraordinary reputation enjoyed at that period by Monsignor Simeoni. + +Monsignor--I am referring to the yellow cat--was intelligent. A bell +surmounted the Castillo de la Mota at San Sebastian, by whose side was +stationed a look-out. When the look-out spied the flash of Carlist guns, +he rang the bell, and then the townspeople retired into the doorways and +cellars. + +Monsignor was aware of the relation of the bell to the cannonading, so +when the bell rang, he promptly withdrew into the house, even going so +far sometimes as to creep under the beds. + +My father had friends who were not above going down into our cellar on +such occasions so as better to observe the manoeuvres of the cat. + + + + +TWO LUNATICS + + +After the war, I used to stroll as a boy with my mother and brothers to +the Castillo de la Mota on Sundays. It was truly a beautiful walk, which +will soon be ruined utterly by the citizens of San Sebastian. We looked +out to sea from the Castillo and then we talked with the guard. We often +met a lunatic there, who was in the care of a servant. As soon as he +caught sight of us children, the lunatic was happy at once, but if a +woman came near him, he ran away and flattened himself against the +walls, kicking and crying out: "Blind dog! Blind dog!" + +I remember also having seen a young woman, who was insane, in a great +house which we used to visit in those days at Loyola. She gesticulated +and gazed continually into a deep well, where a half moon of black water +was visible far below. These lunatics, one at the Castillo and the other +in that great house, haunted my imagination as a child. + + + + +THE HAWK + + +My latest recollection of San Sebastian is of a hawk, which we +brought home to our house from the Castillo. + +Some soldiers gave us the hawk when it was still very young, and it grew +up and became accustomed to living indoors. We fed it snails, which it +gulped down as if they were bonbons. + +When it was full-grown, it escaped to the courtyard and attacked our +chickens, to say nothing of all the cats of the neighbourhood. It hid +under the beds during thundershowers. + +When we moved away from San Sebastian, we were obliged to leave the hawk +behind. We carried him up to the Castillo one day, turned him loose, and +off he flew. + + + + +IN MADRID + + +We moved from San Sebastian to Madrid. My father had received an +appointment to the Geographic and Political Institute. We lived on the +Calle Real, just beyond the Glorieta de Bilbao, in a street which is now +a prolongation of the Calle de Fuencarral. + +Opposite our house, there was a piece of high ground, which has not yet +been removed, which went by the name of "_La Era del Mico_," or +"The Monkey Field." Swings and merry-go-rounds were scattered all over +it, so that the diversions of "_La Era del Mico_," together with +the two-wheeled calashes and chaises which were still in use in those +days, and the funerals passing continually through the street, were the +amusements which were provided ready-made for us, as we looked down from +our balcony. + +Two sensational executions took place while we lived here--those of the +regicide Otero and of Oliva--one following closely on the heels of the +other. We heard the _Salve_, or prayer, which is sung by the +prisoners for the criminal awaiting death, hawked about us then on the +streets. + + + + +IN PAMPLONA + + +From Madrid we went to Pamplona. Pamplona was still a curious city +maintaining customs which would have been appropriate to a state of war. +The draw-bridges were raised at night, only one, or perhaps two, gates +being left open, I am not certain which. + +Pamplona proved an amusing place for a small boy. There were the walls +with their glacis, their sentry boxes, their cannon; there were the +gates, the river, the cathedral and the surrounding quarters--all of +them very attractive to us. + +We studied at the Institute and committed all sorts of pranks like the +other students. We played practical jokes in the houses of the canons, +and threw stones at the bishop's palace, many of the windows of which +were already paneless and forlorn. + +We also made wild excursions to the roof of our house and to those of +other houses in the neighbourhood, prying about the garrets and peering +down over the cornices into the courtyards. + +Once we seized a stuffed eagle, cherished by a neighbour, hauled it to +the attic, pulled it through the skylight to the roof, and flung it down +into the street, creating a genuine panic among the innocent passers-by, +when they saw the huge bird drop at their feet. + +One of my most vivid memories of Pamplona is seeing a criminal on his +way to execution passing our house, attired in a round cap and yellow +robe. + +It was one of the sights which has impressed me most. Later in the +afternoon, driven by curiosity, knowing that the man who had been +garroted must be still on the scaffold, I ventured alone to see him, and +remained there examining him closely for a long time. When I returned +home that night, I was unable to sleep because of the impression he had +made. + + + + +DON TIRSO LAREQUI + + +Many other vivid memories of Pamplona remain with me, never to be +forgotten. I remember a lad of our own age who died, leaping from the +wall, and then there were our adventures along the river. + +Another terrible memory was associated with the cathedral. I had begun +my first year of Latin, and was exactly nine at the time. + +We had come out of the Institute, and were watching a funeral. +Afterwards, three or four of the boys, among whom were my brother +Ricardo and myself, entered the cathedral. The echo of the responses was +ringing in my ears and I hummed them, as I wandered about the aisles. + +Suddenly, a black shadow shot from behind one of the confessionals, +pounced upon me and seized me around the neck with both hands, almost +choking me. I was paralyzed with fear. It proved to be a fat, greasy +canon, by name Don Tirso Larequi. + +"What is your name?" he shouted, shaking me vigorously. + +I could not answer because of my fright. + +"What is his name?" the priest demanded of the other boys. + +"His name is Antonio Garcia," replied my brother Ricardo, coolly. + +"Where does he live?" + +"In the Calle de Curia, Number 14." + +There was no such place, of course. + +"I shall see your father at once," shouted the priest, and he rushed out +of the cathedral like a bull. + +My brother and I then made our escape through the cloister. + +This red-faced priest, fat and ferocious, rushing out of the dark to +choke a nine-year-old boy, has always been to me a symbol of the +Catholic religion. + +This experience of my boyhood partly explains my anti-clericalism. I +recall Don Tirso with an undying hate, and were he still alive--I have +no idea whether he is or not--I should not hesitate to climb up to the +roof of his house some dark night, and shout down his chimney in a +cavernous voice: "Don Tirso! You are a damned villain!" + + + + +A VISIONARY ROWDY + + +I was something of a rowdy as a boy and rather quarrelsome. The first +day I went to school in Pamplona, I came out disputing with another boy +of my own age, and we fought in the street until we were separated by a +cobbler and the blows of a leather strap, to which he added kicks. +Later, I foolishly quarrelled and fought whenever the other boys set me +on. In our stone-throwing escapades on the outskirts of the town, I was +always the aggressor, and quite indefatigable. + +When I began to study medicine, I found that my aggressiveness had +departed completely. One day after quarrelling with another student in +the cloisters of San Carlos, I challenged him to fight. When we got out +on the street, it struck me as foolish to goad him to hit me in the eye +or else to land on my nose with his fist, and I slipped off and went +home. I lost my morale as a bully then and there. Although I was a +fighter from infancy, I was also something of a dreamer, and the two +strains scarcely make a harmonious blend. + +Before I was grown, I saw Gisbert's Death of the Comuneros reproduced as +a chromo. For a long, long while, I always seemed to see that picture +hanging in all its variety of colour on the wall before me at night. For +months and months after my vigil with the body of the man who had been +garroted outside of Pamplona, I never entered a dark room but that his +image rose up before me in all its gruesome details. I also passed +through a period of disagreeable dreams. Some time would elapse after I +awoke before I was able to tell where I was, and I was frightened by it. + + + + +SARASATE + + +It was my opinion then, and still is, that a fiesta at Pamplona is among +the most vapid things in the world. + +There was a mixture of incomprehension and culture in Pamplona, that was +truly ridiculous. The people would devote several days to going to bull +fights, and then turn about, when evening came, and welcome Sarasate +with Greek fire. + +A rude and fanatical populace forgot its orgy of blood to acclaim a +violinist. And what a violinist! He was one of the most effeminate and +grotesque individuals in the world. I can see him yet, strutting along +with his long hair, his ample rear, and his shoes with their little +quarter-heels, which gave him the appearance of a fat cook dressed up in +men's clothes for Carnival. + +When Sarasate died he left a number of trinkets which had been presented +to him during his artistic career--mostly match-boxes, cigarette cases, +and the like--which the Town Council of Pamplona has assembled and now +exhibits in glass cases, but which, in the public interest, should be +promptly disposed of at auction. + + + + +ROBINSON CRUSOE AND THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND + + +During my life in Pamplona, my brother Ricardo imparted his enthusiasm +for two stories to me. These were _Robinson Crusoe_ and Jules +Verne's _The Mysterious Island_, or rather, I should say they were +_The Mysterious Island_ and _Robinson Crusoe_, because we +preferred Jules Verne's tale greatly to Defoe's. + +We would dream about desert islands, about manufacturing electric +batteries in the fashion of the engineer Cyrus Harding, and as we were +not very certain of finding any "Granite House" during the course of our +adventures, Ricardo would paint and paint at plans and elevations of +houses which we hoped to construct in its place in those far-off, savage +lands. + +He also made pictures of ships which we took care should be rigged +properly. + +There were two variations of this dream of adventure--one involving a +snow-house, with appropriate episodes such as nocturnal attacks by +bears, wolves, and the like, and then we planned a sea voyage. + +I rebelled a long time at the notion that my life must be like that of +everybody else, but I had no recourse in the end but to capitulate. + + + + +IX + +AS A STUDENT + + +I was never more than commonplace as a student, inclining rather to be +bad than good. I had no great liking for study, and, to tell the truth, +I never entertained any clear idea of what I was studying. + +For example, I never knew what the word preterite meant until years +after completing my course, although I had repeated over and over again +that the preterite, or past perfect, was thus, while the imperfect was +thus, without having any conception that the word preterite meant past-- +that it was a past that was entirely past in the former case, and a past +that was past to a less degree in the latter. + +To complete two years of Latin grammar, two of French, and one of German +without having any conception of what preterite meant, demonstrated one +of two things: either my stupidity was very great, or the system of +instruction deplorable. Naturally, I incline toward the second +alternative. + +While preparing to take my degree in medicine, when I was studying +chemical analysis, I heard a student, who was already a practising +physician, state that zinc was an element which contained a great deal +of hydrogen. When the professor attempted to extricate him from his +difficulty, it became apparent that the future doctor had no idea of +what an element was. My classmate, who doubtless entertained as little +liking for chemistry as I did for grammar, had not been able throughout +his entire course to grasp the definition of an element, as I had never +been able to comprehend what a preterite might be. + +For my part--and I believe that all of us have had the same experience-- +I have never been successful in mastering those subjects which have not +interested me. + +Doubtless, also, my mental development has been slow. + +As for memory, I have always possessed very little. And liking for +study, none whatever. Sacred history, or any other history, Latin, +French, rhetoric and natural history have interested me not at all. The +only subjects for which I cared somewhat, were geometry and physics. + +My college course left me with two or three ideas in my head, whereupon +I applied myself to making ready for my professional career, as one +swallows a bitter dose. + +In my novel, _The Tree of Knowledge_, I have drawn a picture of +myself, in which the psychological features remain unchanged, although I +have altered the hero's environment, as well as his family relations, +together with a number of details. + +Besides the defects with which I have endowed my hero in this book, I +was cursed with an instinctive slothfulness and sluggishness which were +not to be denied. + +People would tell me: "Now is the time for you to study; later on, you +will have leisure to enjoy yourself; and after that will come the time +to make money." + +But I needed all three times in which to do nothing--and I could have +used another three hundred. + + + + +PROFESSORS + + +I have not been fortunate in my professors. It might be urged that I +have not been in a position, being idle and sluggish, to take advantage +of their instruction. I believe, however, that if they had been good +teachers, now that so many years have passed, I should be able to +acknowledge their merits. + +I cannot remember a single teacher who knew how to teach, or who +succeeded in arousing any interest in what he taught, or who had any +comprehension of the student mentality. No one learned how to reason in +the schools of my youth, nor mastered any theory, nor acquired a +practical knowledge of anything. In other words, we learned nothing. + +In medicine, the professors adhered to a system that was the most +foolish imaginable. In the two universities in which I studied, subjects +might be taken only by halves, which would have been ridiculous enough +in any branch, but it was even more preposterous in medicine. Thus, in +pathology, a certain number of intending physicians studied the subject +of infection, while others studied nervous disorders, and yet others the +diseases of the respiratory organs. Nobody studied all three. A plan of +this sort could only have been conceived by Spanish professors, who, it +may be said in general, are the quintessence of vacuity. + +"What difference does it make whether the students learn anything or +not?" every Spanish professor asks himself continually. + +Unamuno says, apropos of the backwardness of Spaniards in the field of +invention: "Other nations can do the inventing." In other words, let +foreigners build up the sciences, so that we may take advantage of them. + +There was one among my professors who considered himself a born teacher +and, moreover, a man of genius, and he was Letamendi. I made clear in my +_Tree of Knowledge_ what I thought of this professor, who was not +destitute, indeed, of a certain talent as an orator and man of letters. +When he wrote, he was rococo, like so many Catalans. Sometimes he would +discourse upon art, especially upon painting, in the class-room, but the +ideas he entertained were preposterous. I recall that he once said that +a mouse and a book were not a fit subject for a painting, but if you +were to write the words _Aristotle's Works_ on the book, and then +set the mouse to gnawing at it, what had originally meant nothing would +immediately become a subject for a picture. Yes, a picture to be hawked +at the street fairs! + +Letamendi was prolixity and puerile ingenuity personified. Yet Letamendi +was no different from all other Spaniards of his day, including even the +most celebrated, such as Castelar, Echegaray and Valera. + +These men read much, they possessed good memories, but I verily believe +that, honestly, they understood nothing. Not one of them had an inkling +of that almost tragic sense of the dignity of culture or of the +obligations which it imposes, which distinguishes the Germans above all +other nationalities. They nearly all revealed an attitude toward science +which would have sat easily upon a smart, sharp-tongued Andalusian young +gentleman. + +I recall a profoundly moving letter by the critic Garve, which is +included in Kant's _Prolegomena_. + +Garve wrote an article upon _The Critique of Pure Reason_, and sent +it to a journal at Goettingen, and the editor of the journal, in malice +and animosity toward Kant, so altered it that it became an attack on the +philosopher, and then published it unsigned. + +Kant invited his anonymous critic to divulge his name, whereupon Garve +wrote to Kant explaining what had taken place, and Kant made a reply. + +It would be difficult to parallel in nobility these two letters, which +were exchanged between a comprehensive intellect such as Garve and one +of the most portentous geniuses of the world, as was Kant. + +They appear to be two travellers, face to face with the mystery of +Nature and the Unknown. No such feeling for learning and culture is to +be met with among our miserably affected Latin mountebanks. + + + + +ANTI-MILITARISM + + +I am an anti-militarist by inheritance. The Basques have never been good +soldiers in the regular army. My great-grandfather Nessi probably fled +from Italy as a deserter. I have always loathed barracks, messes, and +officers profoundly. + +One day, when I was studying therapeutics with Don Benito Hernando, my +brother opened the door of the class-room and motioned for me to come +out. + +I did so, at the cost, by the way, of a furious scene with Don Benito, +who shattered several test tubes in his wrath. + +The cause of my brother's appearance was to advise me that the Alcaldia +del Centro, or Town Council of the Central District, had given notice to +the effect that if I did not present myself for the draft, I was to be +declared in default. As I had already laid before the Board a copy of a +royal decree in which my name was set down as exempt from the draft +because my father had served as a Liberal Volunteer in the late war, and +because, in addition, I was born in the Basque provinces, I had supposed +that the matter had been disposed of. One of those ill-natured, +dictatorial officials who held sway in the offices of the Board, took it +upon himself to rule that the exemption held good only in the Basque +provinces, but not in Madrid, and so, in fact, for the time it proved to +be. In spite of my furious protests, I was compelled to report and +submit to have my measurements taken, and was well nigh upon the point +of being marched off to the barracks. + +"I am no soldier," I thought to myself. "If they insist, I shall run +away." + +I went at once from the Alcaldia to the Ministry and called upon a +Guipuzcoan politician, as my father had previously advised me to do; but +the man was a political mastodon, puffed up with huge pretensions, who, +perhaps, might have been a stevedore in any other country. So he did +nothing. Finally, it occurred to me to go and see the Conde de +Romanones, who had just been appointed Alcalde del Centro, having +jurisdiction over the district. + +When I entered his office, Romanones appeared to be in a jovial frame of +mind. He wore a flower in his button-hole. Two persons were with him, +one of whom was no other than the Secretary of the Board, my enemy. + +I related what had happened to Romanones with great force. The Secretary +then answered. + +"The young man is right," said the Count. "Bring me the roll of the +draft." + +The roll was brought. Romanones took his pen and crossed my name off +altogether. Then he turned to me with a smile: + +"Don't you care to be a soldier?" + +"No, sir." + +"But what are you, a student?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"In which branch?" + +"Medicine." + +"Good! Very good. You may go now." + +I would willingly have been anything to have escaped becoming a soldier, +and so be obliged to live in barracks, eat mess, and parade. + + + + +TO VALENCIA + + +I failed in both June and September during the fourth year of my course, +which was a mere matter of luck, as I neither applied myself more nor +less than in previous years. + +In the meantime my father had been transferred to Valencia, whither it +seemed wise that I should remove to continue my studies. + +I appeared at Valencia in January for a second examination in general +pathology, and failed for the second time. + +I began to consider giving up my intended profession. + +I found that I had lost what little liking I had for it. As I had no +friends in Valencia, I never left the house; I had nowhere to go. I +passed my days stretched out on the roof, or, else, in reading. After +debating long what I should do, and realizing fully that there was no +one obvious plan to pursue, I determined to finish my course, committing +the required subjects mechanically. After adopting this plan, I never +failed once. + +When I came up for graduation, the professors made an effort to put some +obstacles in my way, which, however, were not sufficient to detain me. + +Admitted as a physician, I decided next to study for the doctor's degree +at Madrid. + +My former fellow-students, when they saw that now I was doing nicely, +all exclaimed: + +"How you have changed! Now you pass your examinations." + +"Passing examinations, you know, is a combination, like a gambling +game," I told them. + +"I have found a combination." + + + + +X + +AS A VILLAGE DOCTOR + + +I returned to Burjasot, a small town near Valencia, where my family +lived at the time, a full-fledged doctor. We had a tiny house, besides a +garden containing pear, peach and pomegranate trees. + +I passed some time there very pleasantly. + +My father was a contributor to the _Voz de Guipuzcoa_ of San +Sebastian, so he always received the paper. One day I read--or it may +have been one of the family--that the post of official physician was +vacant in the town of Cestona. + +I decided to apply for the place, and dispatched a letter accompanied by +a copy of my diploma. It turned out that I was the only applicant, and +so the post was awarded to me. + +I set out for Madrid, where I passed the night, and then proceeded to +San Sebastian, receiving a letter from my father upon my arrival, +informing me that there was another physician at Cestona who was +receiving a larger salary than that which had been offered to me, and +recommending that perhaps it would be better not to put in appearance +too soon, until I was better advised as to the prospects. + +I hesitated. + +"In any event," I thought, "I shall learn what the town is like. If I +like it, I shall stay; if not, I shall return to Burjasot." + +I took the diligence, which goes by the name of "La Vascongada," and +made the trip from San Sebastian to Cestona, which proved to be long +enough in all conscience, as we were five or six hours late. I got off +at a posada, or small inn, at Alcorta, to get something to eat. I dined +sumptuously, drank bravely, and, encouraged by the good food, made up my +mind to remain in the village. I talked with the other doctor and with +the alcalde, and soon everything was arranged that had to be arranged. + +As night was coming on, the priest and the doctor recommended that I go +to board at the house of the Sacristana, as she had a room vacant, which +had formerly been occupied by a notary. + + + + +DOLORES, LA SACRISTANA + + +Dolores, my landlady and mistress of the Sacristy, was an agreeable, +exceedingly energetic, exceedingly hard-working woman, who was a +pronounced conservative. + +I have met few women as good as she. In spite of the fact that she soon +discovered that I was not at all religious, she did not hold it against +me, nor did I harbour any resentment against her. + +I often read her the _Analejo_, or church calendar, which is known +as the _Gallofa_, or beggars' mite, in the northern provinces, in +allusion to the ancient custom of making pilgrimages to Santiago, and I +cooked sugar wafers over the fire with her on the eve of feast days, at +which times her work was especially severe. + +I realized in Cestona my childish ambitions of having a house of my own, +and a dog, which had lain in my mind ever since reading _Robinson +Crusoe_ and _The Mysterious Island_. + +I also had an old horse named Juanillo, which I borrowed from a coachman +in San Sebastian, but I never liked horses. + +The horse seems to me to be a militaristic, antipathetic animal. Neither +Robinson Crusoe nor Cyrus Harding rode horse-back. + +I committed no blunders while I was a village doctor. I had already +grown prudent, and my sceptical temperament was a bar to any great +mistakes. + +I first began to realize that I was a Basque in Cestona, and I recovered +my pride of race there, which I had lost. + + + + +XI + +AS A BAKER + + +I have been asked frequently: "How did you ever come to go into the +baking business?" I shall now proceed to answer the question, although +the story is a long one. + +My mother had an aunt, Juana Nessi, who was a sister of her father's. + +This lady was reasonably attractive when young, and married a rich +gentleman just returned from America, whose name was Don Matias Lacasa. + +Once settled in Madrid, Don Matias, who deemed himself an eagle, when, +in reality, he was a common barnyard rooster, embarked upon a series of +undertakings that failed with truly extraordinary unanimity. About 1870, +a physician from Valencia by the name of Marti, who had visited Vienna, +gave him an account of the bread they make there, and of the yeast they +use to raise it, enlarging upon the profits which lay ready to hand in +that line. + +Don Matias was convinced, and he bought an old house near the Church of +the Descalzas upon Marti's advice. It stood in a street which boasted +only one number--the number 2. I believe the street was, and still is, +called the Calle de la Misericordia. + +Marti set up ovens in the old building by the Church of the Descalzas, +and the business began to yield fabulous profits. Being a devotee of the +life of pleasure, Marti died three or four years after the business had +been established, and Don Matias continued his gallinaceous evolutions +until he was utterly ruined, and had pawned everything he possessed, +remaining at last with the bakery as his only means of support. + +He succeeded in entangling and ruining that, too, before he died. My +aunt then wrote my mother requesting that my brother Ricardo come up to +Madrid. + +My brother remained in Madrid for some time, when he grew tired and +left; then I went, and later we were both there together, making an +effort to improve the business and to push it ahead. Times were bad: +there was no way of pushing ahead. Surely the proverb "Where flour is +lacking, everything goes packing," could never have been applied with +more truth. And we could get no flour. + +When the bakery was just about to do better, the Conde de Romanones, who +was our landlord in those days, notified us that the building was to be +torn down. + +Then our troubles began. We were obliged to move elsewhere, and to +undertake alterations, for which money was indispensable, but we had no +money. In that predicament, we began to speculate upon the Exchange, and +the Exchange proved a kind mother to us; it sustained us until we were +on our feet again. As soon as we had established ourselves upon another +site, we proceeded to lose money, so we withdrew. + +It is not surprising, therefore, that I have always regarded the Stock +Exchange as a philanthropic institution, or that, on the other hand, a +church has always seemed a sombre place in which a black priest leaps +forth from behind a confessional to seize one by the throat in the dark, +and to throttle him. + + + + +MY FATHER'S DISILLUSIONMENT + + +My father was endowed with a due share of the romantic fervour which +distinguished men of his epoch, and set great store by friendship. More +particularly, he was wrapped up in his friends in San Sebastian. + +When we discovered that we were in trouble, before throwing ourselves +into the loving arms of the Bourse, my father spoke to two intimate +friends of his who were from San Sebastian. They made an appointment to +meet me in the Cafe Suizo. I explained the situation to them, after +which they made me certain propositions, which were so usurious, so +outrageously extortionate, that they took my breath away. They offered +to advance us the money we needed for fifty per cent of the gross +receipts, while we were to meet the running expenses out of our fifty +per cent, receiving no compensation whatever for our services in taking +care of the business. + +I was astonished, and naturally did not accept. The episode was a great +blow to my father. I frequently came face to face with one of our +friends at a later date, but I never bowed to him. He was offended. I +was tempted to approach him and say: "The reason that I do not bow to +you is because I know you are a rascal." + +If either of these friends of ours were alive, I should proceed to +mention their names, but, as they are dead, it will serve no useful +purpose. + + + + +INDUSTRY AND DEMOCRACY + + +The bakery has been brandished against me in literature. + +When I first wrote, it was said: + +"This Baroja is a crusty fellow; naturally, he is a baker." + +A certain picturesque academician, who was also a dramatist, and given +to composing stupendous _quintillas_ and _cuartetas_ in his +day, which, despite their flatness, were received with applause, had the +inspiration to add: + +"All this modernism has been cooked up in Baroja's oven." + +Even the Catalans lost no time in throwing the fact of my being a baker +in my face, although they are a commercial, manufacturing people. +Whether calico is nobler than flour, or flour than calico, I am not +sure, but the subject is one for discussion, as Maeztu would have it. + +I am an eclectic myself on this score. I prefer flour in the shape of +bread with my dinner, but cloth will go further with a man who desires +to appear well in public. + +When I was serving upon the Town Council, an anonymous publication +entitled "Masks Off," printed the following among other gems: "Pio +Baroja is a man of letters who runs a bake-shop." + +A Madrid critic recently declared in an American periodical that I had +two personalities: one that of a writer and the other of a baker. He was +solicitous to let me know later that he intended no harm. + +But if I should say to him: "Mr. So and So" is a writer who is +excellently posted upon the value of cloth, as his father sold dry- +goods, it would appeal to his mind as bad taste. + +Another journalist paid his respects to me some months ago in _El +Parlamentario_, saying I baked rolls, oppressed the people, and +sucked the blood of the workingman. + +It would appear to be more demeaning to own a small factory or a shop, +according to the standards of both literary and non-literary circles, +than it is to accept money from the corruption funds of the Government, +or bounties from the exchequers of foreign Embassies. + +When I hear talk nowadays about the dues of the common people, my +propensity to laugh is so great that I am apprehensive that my end may +be like that of the Greek philosopher in Diogenes Laertius, who died of +laughter because he saw an ass eating figs. + + + + +THE VEXATIONS OF A SMALL TRADESMAN + + +The trials and tribulations of the literary life, its feuds and its +backbitings are a common topic of conversation. However, I have never +experienced anything of the kind in literature. The trouble with +literature is that there is very little money in it, which renders the +writer's existence both mean and precarious. + +Nothing compares for vexation with the life of the petty tradesman, +especially when that tradesman is a baker. Upon occasion, I have +repeated to my friends the series of outrages to which we were obliged +to submit, in particular at the hands of the municipal authorities. + +Sometimes it was through malice, but more often through sheer insentient +imbecility. + +When my brother and I moved to the new site, we drew up a plan and +submitted it to the _Ayuntamiento_, or City Government. A clerk +discovered that no provision had been made for a stall for a mule to run +the kneading machine, and so rejected it. When we learned that our +application had not been granted, we inquired the reason and explained +to the clerk that no provision had been made for the mule because we had +no mule, as our kneading machine was operated by an electric motor. + +"That makes no difference, no difference whatever," replied the clerk +with the importance and obtuseness of the bureaucrat. "The ordinance +requires that there be a stall for one." + +Another of the thousand instances of official barbarity was perpetrated +at our expense while Sanchez de Toca was Alcalde. This gentleman is a +Siamese twin of Maura's when it comes to garrulousness and muddy +thinking, and he had resolved to do away with the distribution of bread +by public delivery, and to license only deliveries by private bakeries. +The order was arbitrary enough, but the manner in which it was put into +effect was a masterpiece. It was reported that plates bearing license +numbers would be given out at the _Ayuntamiento_ to the delivery +men from the bakeries. So we repaired to the _Ayuntamiento_ and +questioned a clerk: + +"Where do they give out the numbers? + +"There are no numbers." + +"What will happen tomorrow then, when we make our deliveries?" + +"How do I know?" + +The next day when the delivery men began their rounds, a policeman +accosted them: + +"Have you your numbers?" + +"No, sir; they are not ready yet." + +"Well, come with me then, to the police station." + +And that was the last of our bread. + +The Caid of Mechuar in Morocco favoured his subjects in some such +fashion several years since, but the Moors, being men of spirit, fell on +him one day, and left him at death's door on a dung heap. Meanwhile, +Sanchez de Toca continues to talk nonsense in these parts, and is +considered by some to be one of the bulwarks of the country. + +I could spin many a tale of tyranny in high places, and almost as many, +no doubt, of the pettinesses of workingmen. But what is the good? Why +stir up my bile? In progressive incarnations, I have now passed through +those of baker and petty tradesman. I am no longer an employer who +exploits the workingman, nor can I see that I ever did so. If I have +exploited workers merely because I employed them, all that was some time +ago. I support myself by my writings now, although it is quite proper to +state that I live on very little. + + + + +XII + +AS A WRITER + + +My pre-literary career was three-fold: I was a student for eight years, +during two a village doctor, and for six more a baker. + +These having elapsed, being already close upon thirty, I began to write. + +My new course was a wise one. It was the best thing that I could have +done; anything else would have annoyed me more and have pleased me less. +I have enjoyed writing, and I have made some money, although not much, +yet it has been sufficient to enable me to travel, which otherwise I +should not have been able to do. + +The first considerable sum which I received was upon the publication of +my novel _The Mayorazgo of Labraz_. Henrich of Barcelona paid me +two thousand pesetas for it. I invested the two thousand pesetas in a +speculation upon the Bourse, and they disappeared in two weeks. + +The money which I have received for my other books, I have employed to +better purpose. + + + + +BOHEMIA + + +I have never been a believer in the absurd myth called Bohemia. The idea +of living gaily and irresponsibly in Madrid, or in any other Spanish +city, without taking thought for the morrow, is so preposterous that it +passes comprehension. Bohemia is utterly false in Paris and London, but +in Spain, where life is difficult, it is even more of a cheat. + +Bohemia is not only false, it is contemptible. It suggests to me a minor +Christian sect, of the most inconsequential degree, nicely calculated +for the convenience of hangers on at cafes. + +Henri Murger was the son of the wife of a _concierge_. + +Of course, this would not have mattered had his outlook upon life not +been that of the son of the wife of a _concierge_. + + + + +OUR OWN GENERATION + + +The beginner in letters makes his way up, as a rule, amid a literary +environment which is distinguished by reputations and hierarchies, +all respected by him. But this was not the case with the young writers +of my day. During the years 1898 to 1900, a number of young men suddenly +found themselves thrown together in Madrid, whose only rule was the +principle that the immediate past did not exist for them. + +This aggregation of authors and artists might have seemed to have been +brought together under some leadership, and to have been directed to +some purpose; yet one who entertained such an assumption would have been +mistaken. + +Chance brought us together for a moment, a very brief moment, to be +followed by a general dispersal. There were days when thirty or forty +young men, apprentices in the art of writing, sat around the tables in +the old Cafe de Madrid. + +Doubtless such gatherings of new men, eager to interfere in and to +influence the operations of the social system, yet without either the +warrant of tradition or any proved ability to do so, are common upon a +larger scale in all revolutions. + +As we neither had, nor could have had, in the nature of the case, a task +to perform, we soon found that we were divided into small groups, and +finally broke up altogether. + + + + +AZORIN + + +A few days after the publication of my first book, _Sombre Lives_, +Miguel Poveda, who was responsible for printing it, sent a copy to +Martinez Ruiz, who was at that time in Monovar. Martinez Ruiz wrote me a +long letter concerning the book by return mail; on the following day he +sent another. + +Poveda handed me the letters to read and I was filled with surprise and +joy. Some weeks later, returning from the National Library, Martinez +Ruiz, whom I knew by sight, came up to me on the Recoletos. + +"Are you Baroja?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"I am Martinez Ruiz." + +We shook hands and became friends. + +In those days we travelled about the country together, we contributed to +the same papers, and the ideas and the men we attacked were the same. + +Later, Azorin became an enthusiastic partisan of Maura, which appeared +to me particularly absurd, as I have never been able to see anything but +an actor of the grand style in Maura, a man of small ideas. Next he +became a partisan of La Cierva, which was as bad in my opinion as being +a Maurista. I am unable to say at the moment whether he is contemplating +any further transformations. + +But, whether he is or not, Azorin will always remain a master of +language to me, besides an excellent friend who has a weakness for +believing all men to be great who talk in a loud voice and who pull +their cuffs down out of their coat sleeves with a grand gesture whenever +they appear upon the platform. + + + + +PAUL SCHMITZ + + +Another friendship which I found stimulating was that of Paul Schmitz, a +Swiss from Basle, who had come to Madrid because of some weakness of the +lungs, spending three years among us in order to rehabilitate himself. +Schmitz had studied in Switzerland and in Germany, and also had lived +for a long time in the north of Russia. + +He was familiar with what in my judgment are the two most interesting +countries of Europe. + +Paul Schmitz was a timid person of an inquiring turn of mind, whose +youth had been tempestuous. I made a number of excursions with Schmitz +to Toledo, to El Paular and to the Springs of Urbion; a year or two +later we visited Switzerland several times together. + +Schmitz was like an open window through which I looked out upon an +unknown world. I held long conversations with him upon life, literature, +art and philosophy. + +I recall that I took him one Sunday afternoon to the home of Don Juan +Valera. + +When Schmitz and I arrived, Valera had just settled down for the +afternoon to listen to his daughter, who was reading aloud one of the +latest novels of Zola. + +Valera, Schmitz and I sat chatting for perhaps four or five hours. There +was no subject that we could all agree upon. Valera and I were no sooner +against the Swiss than the Swiss and Valera were against me, or the +Swiss and I against Valera, and then each flew off after his own +opinion. + +Valera, who saw that the Swiss and I were anarchists, said it was beyond +his comprehension how any man could conceive of a state of general well +being. + +"Do you mean to say that you believe," he said to me, "that there will +ever come a time when every man will be able to set a bowl of oysters +from Arcachon upon his table and top it off with a bottle of champagne +of first-rate vintage, besides having a woman sitting beside him in a +Worth gown?" + +"No, no, Don Juan," I replied. "In the eyes of the anarchist, oysters, +champagne, and Worth are mere superstitions, myths to which we attach no +importance. We do not spend our time dreaming about oysters, while +champagne is not nectar to our tastes. All that we ask is to live well, +and to have those about us live well also." + +We could not convince each other. When Schmitz and I left Valera's house +it was already night, and we found ourselves absorbed in his talents and +his limitations. + + + + +ORTEGA Y GASSET + + +Ortega y Gasset impresses me as a traveller who has journeyed through +the world of culture. He moves upon a higher level, which it is +difficult to reach, and upon which it is still more difficult to +maintain oneself. + +It may be that Ortega has no great sympathy for my manner of living, +which is insubordinate; it may be that I look with unfriendly eye upon +his ambitious and aristocratic sympathies; nevertheless, he is a master +who brings glad news of the unknown--that is, of the unknown to us. + +Doctor San Martin was fond of telling how he was sitting one day upon a +bench in the Retiro, reading. + +"Are you reading a novel?" inquired a gentleman, sitting down beside +him. + +"No, I am studying." + +"What! Studying at your age?" exclaimed the gentleman, amazed. + +The same remark might be made to me: "What! Sitting under a master at +your age?" + +As far as I am concerned, every man who knows more than I do is my +master. + +I know very well that philosophy and metaphysics are nothing to the +great mass of physicians who pick up their science out of foreign +reviews, adding nothing themselves to what they read; nor, for that +matter, are they to most Spanish engineers, who are skilled in doing +sufficiently badly today what was done in England and Germany very well +thirty years ago; and the same thing is true of the apothecaries. The +practical is all that these people concede to exist, but how do they +know what is practical? Considering the matter from the practical point +of view, there can be no doubt but that civilization has attained a high +development wherever there have been great metaphysicisms, and then with +the philosophers have come the inventors, who between them are the glory +of mankind. Unamuno despises inventors, but in this case it is his +misfortune. It is far easier for a nation which is destitute of a +tradition of culture to improvise an histologist or a physicist, than a +philosopher or a real thinker. + +Ortega y Gasset, the only approach to a philosopher whom I have ever +known, is one of the few Spaniards whom it is interesting to hear talk. + + + + +A PSEUDO-PATRON + + +Although a man may never have amounted to anything, and will probably +continue in much the same case, that is to say never amounting to +anything, yet there are persons who will take pride in having given him +his start in the world--in short, upon having made him known. Senor +Ruiz Contreras has set up some such absurd claim in regard to me. +According to Ruiz Contreras, he brought me into public notice through a +review which he published in 1899, under the title _Revista Nueva_. +Thus, according to Ruiz Contreras, I am known, and have been for +eighteen years! Although it may seem scarcely worth while to expose such +an obvious joke, I should like to clear up this question for the benefit +of any future biographers. Why should I not indulge the hope of having +them? + +In 1899, Ruiz Contreras invited my co-operation in a weekly magazine, in +which I was to be both stockholder and editor. Those days already seem a +long way off. At first I refused, but he insisted; at length we agreed +that I should write for the magazine and share in meeting the expenses, +in company with Ruiz Contreras, Reparaz, Lassalle and the novelist +Matheu. + +I made two or three payments, and moved down some of my pictures and +furniture to the office in consequence, until the time came when I began +to feel that it was humorous for me to be paying for publishing my +articles, when I was perfectly well able to dispose of them to any other +sheet. Upon my cutting off payments, Ruiz Contreras informed me that a +number of the stockholders, among whom was Icaza, who had replaced +Reparaz, took the position that if I did not pay, I should not be +permitted to write for the magazine. + +"Very well, I shall not write." And I ceased to write. + +Previous to my connection with the _Revista Nueva_, I had +contributed articles to _El Liberal_, _El Pais_, _El +Globo_, _La Justicia_, and _La Voz de Guipuzcoa_, as well +as to other publications. + +A year after my contributions to the _Revista Nueva_, I brought out +_Sombre Lives_, which scarcely sold one hundred copies, and, then, +a little later, _The House of Aizgorri_, the sale of which fell +short of fifty. + +At this time, Martinez Ruiz published a comedy, _The Power of +Love_, for which I provided a prologue, and I went about with the +publisher, Rodriguez Serra, through the bookshops, peddling the book. In +a shop on the Plaza de Santa Ana, Rodriguez Serra asked the proprietor, +not altogether without a touch of malice: + +"What do you think of this book?" + +"It would be all right," answered the proprietor, who did not know me, +"if anybody knew who Martinez Ruiz was; and who is this Pio Baroja?" + +Senor Ruiz Contreras says that he made me known, but the fact is that +nobody knew me in those days; Senor Ruiz Contreras flatters himself that +he did me a great favour by publishing my articles, at a cost to me, at +the very least, of two or three _duros_ apiece. + +If this is to be a patron of letters, I should like to patronize half +the planet. + +As for literary influence, Ruiz Contreras never had any upon me. He was +an admirer of Arsene Houssage, Paul Bourget, and other novelists with a +sophisticated air, who never meant anything to me. The theatre also +obsessed him, a malady which I have never suffered, and he was a devotee +of the poet, Zorrilla, in which respect I was unable to share his +enthusiasm, nor can I do so today. Finally, he was a political +reactionary, while I am a man of radical tendencies. + + + + +XIII + +PARISIAN DAYS + + +For the past twenty years I have been in the habit of visiting Paris, +not for the purpose of becoming acquainted with the city--to see it once +is enough; nor do I go in order to meet French authors, as, for the most +part, they consider themselves so immeasurably above Spaniards that +there is no way in which a self-respecting person can approach them. I +go to meet the members of the Spanish colony, which includes some types +which are most interesting. + +I have gathered a large number of stories and anecdotes in this way, +some of which I have incorporated in my books. + + + + +ESTEVANEZ + + +Don Nicolas Estevanez was a good friend of mine. During my sojourns in +Paris, I met him every afternoon in the Cafe de la Fleur in the +Boulevard St. Germain. + +When I was writing _The Last of the Romantics_ and _Grotesque +Tragedies_, Estevanez furnished me with data and information +concerning life in Paris under the Second Empire. + +When I last saw him in the autumn of 1913, he made a practice of coming +to the cafe with a paper scribbled over with notes, to assist his memory +to recall the anecdotes which he had it in mind to tell. + +I can see him now in the Cafe de la Fleur, with his blue eyes, his long +white beard, his cheeks, which were still rosy, his calm and always +phlegmatic air. + +Once he became much excited. Javier Bueno and I happened on him in a +cafe on the Avenue d'Orleans, not far from the Lion de Belfort. Bueno +asked some questions about the recent attempt by Moral to assassinate +the King in Madrid, and Estevanez suddenly went to pieces. An anarchist +told me afterwards that Estevanez had carried the bomb which was thrown +by Morral in Madrid, from Paris to Barcelona, at which port he had taken +ship for Cuba, by arrangement with the Duke of Bivona. + +I believe this story to have been a pure fabrication, but I feel +perfectly certain that Estevanez knew beforehand that the crime was to +be attempted. + + + + +MY VERSATILITY ACCORDING TO BONAFOUX + + +Speaking of Estevanez, I recall also Bonafoux, whom I saw frequently. +According to Gonzalez de la Pena, the painter, he held my versatility +against me. + +"Bonafoux," remarked Pena, "feels that you are too versatile and too +volatile." + +"Indeed? In what way?" + +"One day you entered the bar and said to Bonafoux that a testimonial +banquet ought to be organized for Estevanez, enlarging upon it +enthusiastically. Bonafoux answered: 'Go ahead and make the +preparations, and we will all get together.' When you came into the cafe +a few nights later, Bonafoux asked: 'How about that banquet?' 'What +banquet?' you replied. It had already passed out of your mind. Now, tell +me: Is this true?" inquired Pena. + +"Yes, it is. We all have something of Tartarin in us, more or less. We +talk and we talk, and then we forget what we say." + +Other Parisian types return to me when I think of those days. There was +a Cuban journalist, who was satisfactorily dirty, of whom Bonafoux used +to say that he not only ate his plate of soup but managed to wash his +face in it at the same time. There was a Catalan guitar player, besides +some girls from Madrid who walked the tight rope, whom we used to invite +to join us at the cafe from time to time. And then there was a whole +host of other persons, all more or less shabby, down at the heel and +picturesque. + + + + + +XIV + +LITERARY ENMITIES + + +Making our entrance into the world of letters hurling contradictions +right and left, the young men of our generation were received by the +writers of established reputation with unfriendly demonstrations. As was +natural, this was not only the attitude of the older writers, but it +extended to our contemporaries in years as well, even to those who were +most modern. + + + + +THE ENMITY OF DICENTA + + +Among those who cherished a deadly hatred of me was Dicenta. It was an +antipathy which had its origin in the realm of ideas, and it was +accentuated subsequently by an article which I contributed to _El +Globo_ upon his drama _Aurora_, in which I maintained that +Dicenta was not a man of new or broad ideas, but completely preoccupied +with the ancient conceptions of honesty and honour. One night in the +Cafe Fornos--I am able to vouch for the truth of this incident because, +years afterwards, he told me the story himself--Dicenta accosted a young +man who was sitting at an adjacent table taking supper, and attempted to +draw him into discussion, under the impression that it was I. The young +man was so frightened that he never dared to open his mouth. + +"Come," shouted Dicenta, "we shall settle this matter at once." + +"I have nothing to settle with you," replied the young man. + +"Yes, sir, you have; you have stated in an article that my ideas are not +revolutionary." + +"I never stated anything of the kind." + +"What is that?" + +"No, sir." + +"But aren't you Pio Baroja?" + +"I am not, sir." + +Dicenta turned on his heel and marched back to his seat. + +Sometime later, Dicenta and I became friends, although we were never +very intimate, because he felt that I did not appreciate him at his full +worth. And it was the truth. + + + + +THE POSTHUMOUS ENMITY OF SAWA + + +I met Alejandro Sawa one evening at the Cafe Fornos, where I had gone +with a friend. + +As a matter of fact, I had never read anything which he had written, but +his appearance impressed me. Once I followed him in the street with the +intention of speaking to him, but my courage failed at the last moment. +A number of months later, I met him one summer afternoon on the +Recoletos, when he was in the company of a Frenchman named Cornuty. +Cornuty and Sawa were conversing and reciting verses; they took me to a +wine-shop in the Plaza de Herradores, where they drank a number of +glasses, which I paid for, whereupon Sawa asked me to lend him three +pesetas. I did not have them, and told him so. + +"Do you live far from here?" asked Alejandro, in his lofty style. + +"No, near by." + +"Very well then, you can go home and bring me the money." + +He issued this command with such an air of authority that I went home +and brought him the money. He came to the door of the wine-shop, took it +from me, and then said: + +"You may go now." + +This was the way in which insignificant bourgeois admirers were treated +in the school of Baudelaire and Verlaine. + +Later again, when I brought out _Sombre Lives_, I sometimes saw +Sawa in the small hours of the morning, his long locks flowing, and +followed by his dog. He always gripped my hand with such force that it +did me some hurt, and then he would say to me, in a tragic tone: + +"Be proud! You have written _Sombre Lives_." + +I took it as a joke. + +One day Alejandro wrote me to come to his house. He was living on the +Cuesta de Santo Domingo. I betook myself there, and he made me a +proposition which was obviously preposterous. He handed me five or six +articles, written by him, which had already been published, together +with some notes, saying that if I would add certain material, we should +then be able to make up a book of "Parisian Impressions," which could +appear under the names of us both. + +I read the articles and did not care for them. When I went to return +them, he asked me: + +"What have you done?" + +"Nothing. I think it would be difficult for us to collaborate; there is +no possible bond of unity in what we write." + +"How is that?" + +"You are one of these eloquent writers, and I am not." + +This remark gave great offence. + +Another reason for Alejandro's enmity was an opinion expressed by my +brother, Ricardo. + +Ricardo wished to paint the portrait of Manuel Sawa in oils, as Manuel +had marked personality at that time, when he still wore a beard. + +"But here am I," said Alejandro. "Am I not a more interesting subject to +be painted?" + +"No, no, not at all," we all shouted together--this took place in the +Cafe de Lisboa--"Manuel has more character." + +Alejandro said nothing, but, a few moments later, he rose, looked at +himself in the glass, arranged his flowing locks, and then, glaring at +us from top to toe, while he pronounced the letter with the utmost +distinctness, he said simply: + +"M...." and walked out of the cafe. + +Some time passed before Alejandro heard that I had put him into one of +my novels and he conceived a certain dislike for me, in spite of which +we saw each other now and then, always conversing affectionately. + +One day he sent for me to come and see him. He was living in the Calle +del Conde Duque. He was in bed, already blind. His spirit was as high as +before, while his interest in literary matters remained the same. His +brother, Miguel, who was present, happened to say during the +conversation that the hat I wore, which I had purchased in Paris a few +days previously, had a flatter brim than was usual. Alejandro asked to +examine it, and busied himself feeling of the brim. + +"This is a hat," he exclaimed enthusiastically, "that a man can wear +with long hair." Some months subsequent to his death a book of his, +_Light Among the Shadows_, was published, in which Alejandro spoke +ill of me, although he had a good word for _Sombre Lives_. + +He called me a country-man, said that my bones were misshapen, and then +stated that glory does not go hand in hand with tuberculosis. Poor +Alejandro! He was sound at heart, an eloquent child of the +Mediterranean, born to orate in the lands of the sun, but he took it +into his head that it was his duty to make himself over into the +likeness of one of the putrid products of the North. + + + + +SEMI-HATRED ON THE PART OF SILVERIO LANZA + + +A mutual friend, Antonio Gil Campos, introduced me to Silverio Lanza. + +Silverio Lanza was a man of great originality, endowed with an enormous +fund of thwarted ambition and pride, which was only natural, as he was a +notably fine writer who had not yet met with success, nor even with the +recognition which other younger writers enjoyed. + +The first time that I saw Lanza, I remember how his eyes sparkled when I +told him that I liked his books. Nobody ever paid any attention to him +in those days. + +Silverio Lanza was a singular character. At times he seemed benevolent, +and then again there were times when he would appear malignant in the +extreme. + +His ideas upon the subject of literature were positively absurd. When I +sent him _Sombre Lives_, he wrote me an unending letter in which he +attempted to convince me that I ought to append a lesson or moral, to +every tale. If I did not wish to write them, he offered to do it +himself. + +Silverio thought that literature was not to be composed like history, +according to Quintilian's definition, _ad narrandum_, but _ad +probandum_. + +When I gave him _The House of Aizgorri_, he was outraged by the +optimistic conclusion of the book, and advised me to change it. +According to his theory, if the son of the Aizgorri family came to a bad +end, the daughter ought to come to a bad end also. + +Being of a somewhat fantastical turn of mind, Silverio Lanza was full of +political projects that were extraordinary. + +I remember that one of his ideas was that we ought all to write the King +a personal note of congratulation upon his attaining his majority. + +"It is the most revolutionary thing that can be done at such a time," +insisted Lanza, apparently quite convinced. + +"I am unable to see it," I replied. Azorin and myself were of the +opinion that it was a ridiculous proceeding which would never produce +the desired result. + +Another of Lanza's hobbies was an aggressive misogyny. + +"Baroja, my friend," he would say to me, "you are too gallant and +respectful in your novels with the ladies. Women are like laws, they are +to be violated." + +I laughed at him. + +One day I was walking with my friend Gil Campos and my cousin Goni, when +we happened on Silverio Lanza, who took us to the Cafe de San Sebastian, +where we sat down in the section facing the Plazuela del Angel. It was a +company that was singularly assorted. + +Silverio reverted to the theme that women should be handled with the +rod. Gil Campos proceeded to laugh, being gifted with an ironic vein, +and made fun of him. For my part, I was tired of it, so I said to Lanza: + +"See here, Don Juan" (his real name was Juan Bautista Amoros), "what you +are giving us now is literature, and poor literature at that. You are +not, and I am not, able to violate law and women as we see fit. That may +be all very well for Caesars and Napoleons and Borgias, but you are a +respectable gentleman who lives in a little house at Getafe with your +wife, and I am a poor man myself, who manages as best he may to make a +living. You would tremble in your boots if you ever broke a law, or even +a municipal ordinance, and so would I. As far as women are concerned, we +are both of us glad to take what we can get, if we can get anything, and +I am afraid that neither of us is ever going to get very much, despite +the fact"--I added by way of a humorous touch--"that we are two of the +most distinguished minds in Europe." + +My cousin Goni replied to this with the rare tact that was +characteristic of him, arguing that within the miserable sphere of +tangible reality I was right, while Lanza moved upon a higher plane, +which was more ideal and more romantic. He went on to add that Lanza and +he were both Berbers, and so violent and passionate, while I was an +Aryan, although a vulgar Aryan, whose ideas were simply those which were +shared by everybody. + +Lanza was not satisfied with my cousin's explanation and departed with a +marked lack of cordiality. + +Since that time, Silverio has regarded me with mixed emotions, half +friendly, half the reverse, although in one of his latest books, _The +Surrender of Santiago_, he has referred to me as a great friend and a +great writer. I suspect, however, that he does not love me. + + + + +XV + +THE PRESS + +OUR NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS + + +I have always been very much interested in the newspaper and periodical +press, and in everything that has any connection with printing. When my +father, my grandfather, and great grandfather set up struggling papers +in a provincial capital, it may be said that they were not printers in +vain. + +Because of my fondness for newspapers and magazines, it is a grief to me +that the Spanish press should be so weak, so poor, so pusillanimous and +stiff-jointed. + +Of late, while the foreign press has been expanding and widening its +scope, ours has been standing still. + +There is, of course, an economic explanation to justify our deficiency, +but this is valid only in the matter of quantity, and not as to quality. +Comparing our press with that of the rest of the world, a rosary of +negation might easily be made up in this fashion: + +Our press does not concern itself with what is of universal interest. + +Our press does not concern itself with what is of national interest. + +Our press does not concern itself with literature. + +Our press does not concern itself with philosophy. + +And so on to infinity. + +Corpus Barga has told me that when Senor Groizard, a relative of his, +was ambassador to the Vatican, Leo XIII once inquired of him, in a +jargon of Italo-Spanish, in the presence of the papal secretary, +Cardinal Rampolla: + +"Does the Senor Ambasciatore speak Italian?" + +"No, not Italian, although I understand it a little." + +"Does the Senor Ambasciatore speak English?" + +"No, not English, I do not speak that," replied Groizard. + +"Does the Senor Ambasciatore speak German?" + +"No German, no Dutch; not at all." + +"No doubt then the Senor Ambasciatore speaks French?" + +"French? No. I am able to translate it a little, but I do not speak it." + +"Then what does the Senor Ambasciatore speak?" asked Leo XIII, smiling +that Voltairian smile of his at his secretary. + +"Then Senor Ambasciatore speaks a heavy back-country dialect called +Extramaduran," replied Rampolla del Tindaro, bending over to His +Holiness's ear. + +The Spanish press has made a resolution, now of long standing, to speak +nothing but a back-country dialect called Extramaduran. + +_Our Journalists_ + +Our journalists supply the measure of our journals. When the great names +are those of Miguel Moya, Romeo, Rocamora and Don Pio, what are we to +think of the little fellows? + +Speaking generally, the Spanish journalist is interested in politics, in +theatres, in bull fights, and in nothing else; whatever is beyond these, +does not concern him. Not even the _feuilleton_ attracts his +attention. A wooden, highly mannered phrase sponsored by Maura, is much +more stimulating to his mind than the most sensational piece of news. + +The Spanish newspaper man is endowed with an extraordinary lack of +imagination and of curiosity. I recall having given a friend, who was a +journalist, a little book of Nietzsche's to read, which he returned with +the remark that he had not been able to get through it, as it was +insufferable drivel. I have heard the same opinion, or similar ones, +expressed by journalists of Ibsen, Schopenhauer, Dostoievsky, Stendhal +and all the most stimulating minds of Europe. + +The wretched Saint Aubin, wretched certainly as a critic, used to +ridicule Tolstoi and the illness which resulted in his death, +maintaining that it was nothing more than an advertisement. The most +benighted vulgarity reigns in our press. + +Upon occasion, vulgarity goes hand in hand with an ignorance which is +astounding. I remember going to a cafe on the Calle de Alcala known as +la Maison Doree one afternoon with Regoyos. Felipe Trigo, the novelist, +sat down at our table with a friend of his, a journalist, I believe, +from America. I have never been a friend of Trigo's, and could never +take any interest either in the man or his work, which to my mind is +tiresome and commercially erotic, besides being absolutely devoid of all +charm. + +Regoyos, who is effusive by nature, soon became engaged in conversation +with them, and the talk turned upon artistic subjects, in which he was +interested, and then to his travels abroad. + +Trigo put in his oar and uttered a number of preposterous statements. In +particular, he described a ship which had unloaded at Milan. When +Regoyos pointed out that Milan was not a seaport, he replied: + +"Probably it was some other place then. What is the difference?" + +He continued with a string of geographical and anthropological blunders, +which were concurred in by the journalist, while Regoyos and I sat by in +amazement. + +When we left the cafe, Regoyos inquired: + +"Could they have been joking?" + +"No; nonsense. They do not believe that such things are worth knowing. +They think they are petty details which might be useful to railway +porters. Trigo imagines that he is a magician, who understands the +female mind." + +"Well, does he?" asked Regoyos, with naive innocence. + +"How can he understand anything? The poor fellow is ignorant. His other +attainments are on a par with his geography." + +The ignorance of authors and journalists is accompanied as a matter of +course by a total want of comprehension. A number of years ago, a rich +young man called at my house, intending to found a review. During the +conversation, he explained that he was a Murcian, a lawyer and a +follower of Maura. + +Finally, after expounding his literary ideas, he informed me that +Ricardo Leon, who at that time had just published his first novel, +would, in his opinion, come to be acknowledged as the first novelist of +Europe. He also assured me that Dickens's humour was absolutely vulgar, +cheap and out of date. + +"I am not surprised that you should think so," I said to him. "You are +from Murcia, you are a lawyer and a Maurista; naturally, you like +Ricardo Leon, and it is equally natural that you should not like +Dickens." + +Persons who imagine that it is of no consequence whether Milan is a +seaport or not, who believe that Nietzsche is a drivelling ass, and who +make bold to tell us that Dickens is a cheap author--in one word, young +gentlemen lawyers who are partisans of Maura, are the people who provide +copy for our press. How can the Spanish press be expected to be +different from what it is? + + + + +AMERICANS + + +Unquestionably, Spaniards suffer much from the uncertainty of +information and narrowness of view inevitable to those who live apart +from the main currents of life. + +In comparison with the English, the Germans, or the French, whether we +like it or not, we appear provincial. We are provincials who possess +more or less talent, but nevertheless we are provincials. + +So it is that an Italian, a Russian, or a Swede prefers to read a book +by a mediocre Parisian, such as Marcel Prevost, to one by a writer of +genuine talent, such as Galdos; it also explains why the canvases of +second rate painters such as David, Gericault, or Ingres are more highly +esteemed in the market than those of a painter of genius like Goya. + +To be provincial has its virtues as well as its defects. At times the +provincial are accompanied by universal elements, which blend and form a +masterpiece. This was the case with _Don Quixote_, with the +etchings of Goya and the dramas of Ibsen. Similarly, among new peoples, +provincial stupidity will often form a blend with an obtuseness which is +world-wide. The aridness and infertility characteristic of the soil +combine with the detritus of fashion and the follies of the four +quarters of the globe. The result is a child-like type, petulant, devoid +of virtue, and utterly destitute of a single manly quality. This is the +American type. America is _par excellence_ the continent of +stupidity. + +The American has not yet outgrown the monkey in him and remains in the +imitative stage. + +I have no particular reason to dislike Americans. My hostility towards +them arises merely from the fact that I have never known one who had the +air of being anybody, who impressed me as a man. + +You frequently meet a man in the interior of Spain, in some small +village, perhaps, whose conversation conveys the impression that he is a +real man, wrought out of the ore that is most human and most noble. At +such times one becomes reconciled to one's country, for all its +charlatans and hordes of sharpers. + +An American never appears to be calm, serene and collected. There are +plenty who seem to be wild, impulsive creatures, driven on by sanguinary +fury, while others disclose the vanity of the chorus girl, or a self- +conceit which is wholly ridiculous. + +My lack of sympathy for Spanish-Americans extends to their literary +productions. Everything that I have read by South Americans, and I bear +in mind the not disinterested encomiums of Unamuno, I have found to be +both poor and deficient in substance. + +Beginning with Sarmiento's _Facundo_, which is heavy, cheap, and +uninteresting, and coming down to the latest productions of Ingenieros, +Manuel Ugarte, Ricardo Rojas and Contreras, this is true without +exception. + +What a deluge of shoddy snobbery and vulgar display pours out of +America! + +It is often argued that Spaniards should eulogize South Americans for +political reasons. This is one of many recommendations which proceed +from the craniums of gentlemen who top themselves off with silk hats and +who carry a lecture inside which is in demand by Ibero-American +societies. + +I have no faith that this brand of politics will be productive of +results. + +Citizens of old, civilized countries are still sensible to flattery and +compliment, but what are you to tell an Argentine who is fully convinced +that Argentina is a more important country than England or Germany, +because she raises a large quantity of wheat, to say nothing of a great +number of cows? + +Whenever Unamuno writes he decries Kant, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, and +then promptly eulogizes the mighty General Anibal Perez and the great +poet Diocleciano Sanchez, who hail from the pampas. To these fellows, +such praise seems grudging enough. Salvador Rueda himself must appear +tame to these hide-stretchers. + + + + +XVI + +POLITICS + + +I have always been a liberal radical, an individualist and an anarchist. +In the first place, I am an enemy of the Church; in the second place, I +am an enemy of the State. When these great powers are in conflict I am a +partisan of the State as against the Church, but on the day of the +State's triumph, I shall become an enemy of the State. If I had lived +during the French Revolution, I should have been an internationalist of +the school of Anacarsis Clootz; during the struggle for liberty, I +should have been one of the _Carbonieri_. + +To the extent in which liberalism has been a destructive force, inimical +to the past, it enthralls me. The fight against religious prejudice and +the aristocracy, the suppression of religious communities, inheritance +taxes--in short, whatever has a tendency to pulverize completely the +ancient order of society, fills me with a great joy. On the other hand, +insofar as liberalism is constructive, as it has been for example in its +advocacy of universal suffrage, in its democracy, and in its system of +parliamentary government, I consider it ridiculous and valueless as +well. + +Even today, wherever it is obliged to take the aggressive, it seems to +me that the good in liberalism is not exhausted; but wherever it has +become an accomplished fact, and is accepted as such, it neither +interests me nor enlists my admiration. + + + + +VOTES AND APPLAUSE + + +In our present day democracy, there are only two effective sanctions: +votes and applause. + +Those are all. Just as in the old days men committed all sorts of crimes +in order to please their sovereign, now they commit similar crimes in +order to satisfy the people. + +And this truth has been recognized from Aristotle to Burke. + +Democracy ends in histrionism. + +A man who gets up to talk before a crowd must of necessity be an actor. +I have wondered from time to time if I might not have certain histrionic +gifts myself; however, when I have put them to the test, I have found +that they were not sufficient. I have made six or seven speeches during +my brief political career. I spoke in Valencia, in a pelota court, and I +delivered an address at Barcelona in the Casa del Pueblo, in both of +which places I was applauded generously. Nevertheless the applause +failed to intoxicate me; it produced no impression upon me whatever. It +seemed too much like mere noise--noise made by men's hands, and having +nothing to do with myself. + +I am not good enough as an actor to be a politician. + + + + +POLITICIANS + + +I have never been able to feel any enthusiasm for Spanish politicians. +We hear a great deal about Canovas. Canovas has always impressed me as +being as bad an orator as he was a writer. When I first read his _Bell +of Huesca_, I could not contain myself for laughing. As far as his +speeches are concerned, I have also read a few, and find them horribly +heavy, diffuse, monotonous and deficient in style. I hear that Canovas +is a great historian, but if so, I am not acquainted with that side of +him. + +Castelar was unquestionably a man of exceptional gifts as a writer, but +he failed to take advantage of them, and they were utterly dissipated. +He lacked what most Spaniards of the 19th Century lacked with him; that +is, reserve. + +When Echegaray was made Minister of Finance, he was already an old man. +A reporter called one day to interview him at the Ministry, and +Echegaray confessed that he was without any very clear idea as to just +what the duties of his office were to be. When the reporter took leave +of the dramatist, he remarked: + +"Don Jose, you are not going to be comfortable here; it is cold in the +building. Besides, the air is too fresh." + +Echegaray replied: + +"Yes, and your description suits me exactly." + +This cynically cheap joke might have fallen appropriately from the +tongues of the majority of Spanish politicians. Among these male +_bailarinas_, nearly all of whom date back to the Revolution of +September, we may find, indeed, some men of austere character: Salmeron, +Pi y Margall and Costa. Salmeron was an inimitable actor, but an actor +who was sincere in his part. He was the most marvellous orator that I +have ever heard. + +As a philosopher, he was of no account, and as a politician he was a +calamity. + +Pi y Margall, whom I met once in his own home where I went in company +with Azorin, was no more a politician or a philosopher than was +Salmeron. He was a journalist, a popularizer of other men's ideas, +gifted with a style at once clear and concise. Pi y Margall was sincere, +enamoured of ideas, and took but little thought of himself. + +As to Costa, I confess that he was always antipathetic to me. Like +Nakens, he was a man who lived upon the estimation in which he was held +by others, pretending all the while that he attached no importance to it +whatever. Aguirre Metaca once told me that while he was connected with a +paper in Saragossa, he had solicited an interview with Costa, and +thereupon Costa wrote the interview himself, referring to himself here +and there in it as the Lion of Graus. I cannot accept Costa as a modern +European, intellectually. He was a figure for the Cortes of Cadiz, +solemn, pompous, becollared and rhetorical. He was one of those actors +who abound in southern countries, who are laid to rest in their graves +without ever having had the least idea that their entire lives have been +nothing but stage spectacles. + + + + +REVOLUTIONISTS + + +Whether politicians or authors, the Spanish revolutionists always smack +to my mind of the property room, and especially is this true of the +authors. Zozaya, Morote and Dicenta have passed for many years now as +terrible men, both destructive and great innovators. But how ridiculous! +Zozaya, like Dicenta, has never done anything but manipulate the +commonplace, failing to impart either lightness or novelty to it, as +have Valera and Anatole France, succeeding only on the other hand in +making it more plumbeous and indigestible. + +Speaking of Luis Morote, against whom I urge nothing as a man, he has +always been a bugbear to me, the personification of dullness, of +vulgarity, of everything that lacks interest and charm. I can conceive +nothing lower than an article by Morote. + +"What talent that man has! What a revolutionary personality!" they used +to say in Valencia, and once the janitor at the Club added: "To think I +knew that man when he was only this high!" And he held out his hand +about a metre above the ground. + +Spain has never produced any revolutionists. Don Nicolas Estevanez, who +imagined himself an anarchist, would fly into a rage if he read an +article which concealed a gallicism in it. + +"Do not bother your head about gallicisms," I used to say to him. "What +do they matter, anyway?" + +No, we have never had any revolutionists in Spain. That is, we have had +only one: Ferrer. + +He was certainly not a man of great mind. When he talked, he was on the +level of Morote and Zozaya, which is nothing more nor less than the +level of everybody else; but when it came to action, he did amount to +something, and that something was dangerous. + + + + +LERROUX + + +My only experience in politics was gained with Lerroux. + +One Sunday, seven or eight years ago, on coming out of my house and +crossing the Plaza de San Marcial, I observed that a great crowd had +gathered. + +"What is the matter?" I asked. + +"Lerroux is coming," they told me. + +I delayed a moment and happened on Villar, the composer, among the +crowd. We fell to talking of Lerroux and what he might accomplish. A +procession was soon formed, which we followed, and we found ourselves in +front of the editorial offices of _El Pais_. + +"Shall we go in?" asked Villar. "Do you know Lerroux?" + +I had met Lerroux in the days when _El Progreso_ was still +published, having called once with Maeztu at his office; afterwards I +saw him in Barcelona in a large shed, which, if I recall rightly, went +by the name of "La Fraternidad Republicana," and then I was accompanied +by Azorin and Junoy. + +Villar and I went upstairs and greeted Lerroux in the offices of _El +Pais_. + +"Estevanez has spoken of you to me," he said. "Is he well?" + +"Yes, very well." + +A few days later, Lerroux invited me to dinner at the Cafe Ingles. +Lerroux, Fuente and I dined together, and then fell to talking. Lerroux +asked me to join his party, whereupon I pointed out the qualifications +which were lacking in me, which were necessary to a politician. Shortly +after, I was nominated as a candidate for the City Council, and I +addressed a number of meetings, although always coldly, and never at +high tension. + +While I was with Lerroux, I was never treated save with consideration. + +Why did I leave his party? Chiefly because of differences as to ideas +and as to tactics. Lerroux wished to organize his party into a party of +law and order, so that it might be capable of governing, and also to +have it friendly with the Army. I was of the opinion that it ought to be +a revolutionary party, not in the sense that I was thinking of erecting +barricades, but I wished it to contest, to upset things, and to protest +against injustice. + +What Lerroux wanted was a party of orators who could speak at public +meetings, a party of office-holders, councillors, provincial deputies +and the like, while I held, and still hold, that the only efficacious +revolutionary weapon is the printed page. Lerroux was anxious to +transform the radical party into something aristocratic and Castilian; I +desired to see it retain its Catalan character, and continue to wear +blouses and rope-soled shoes. + +I withdrew from the party for these reasons, to which I may add +Lerroux's attitude of indifference upon the occasion of the execution of +the stoker of the "Numancia." + +Not many months after, I met him on the Carrera de San Jeronimo, and he +said to me: + +"I have read your diatribes." + +"They were not directed against you, but against your politics. I shall +never speak ill of you, because I have no cause." + +"Yes," he replied, "I know that at heart you are one of my friends." + + + + +AN OFFER + + +A number of years ago, when the Conservatives were in power and Dato was +President of the Ministry, Azorin brought me word that Sanchez Guerra, +then Minister of the Interior, wished to see me and to have a little +talk, as perhaps some way might be arranged by which I might be made +deputy. During the afternoon, I accompanied Azorin to the Ministry, and +we saw the Minister. + +He informed me that he would like to have me enter the Congress. + +"I should like to myself," I replied, "but it would appear to me rather +difficult." + +"But is there not some town where you are well known, and where you have +influence?" + +"No, none whatever." + +"How would you like then to be deputy to represent the Government?" + +"As a regular?" + +"Yes." + +"As a Conservative?" + +"Yes." + +I thought a moment and said: "No, I can never be a Conservative, however +it might suit my interest to be so. Try as hard as I might, I should +never succeed." + +"That is the only way in which we can make you deputy." + +"Well, it cannot be helped! I must resign myself then to amount to +nothing." + +Thanking the Minister for his kindness. Azorin and I walked out of the +Ministry of the Interior. + + + + +SOCIALISTS + + +As for Socialists, I have never cared to have anything to do with them. +One of the most offensive things about Socialists, which is more +offensive than their pedantry, than their charlatanry, than their +hypocrisy, is their inquisitorial instinct for prying into other +people's lives. Whether Pablo Iglesias travels first or third class, has +been for years one of the principal topics of dispute between Socialists +and their opponents. + +Fifteen years ago I was in Tangier, where I had been sent by the +_Globo_, and, upon my return, a newspaper man who had socialistic +ideas, reproached me: + +"You talk a great deal about the working man, but I see you were living +in the best hotel in Tangier." + +I answered: "In the first place, I have never spoken of the workingman +with any fervour. Furthermore, I am not such a slave as to be too +cowardly to take what life offers as it comes, as you are. I take what I +can that I want, and when I do not take it, it is because I cannot get +it." + + + + +LOVE OF THE WORKINGMAN + + +To gush over the workingman is one of the commonplaces of the day which +is utterly false and hypocritical. Just as in the 18th century sympathy +was with the simple hearted citizen, so today we talk about the +workingman. The term workingman can never be anything but a grammatical +common denominator. Among workingmen, as among the bourgeoisie, there +are all sorts of people. It is perfectly true that there are certain +characteristics, certain defects, which may be exaggerated in a given +class, because of its special environment and culture. The difference in +Spanish cities between the labouring man and the bourgeoisie is not very +great. We frequently see the workingman leap the barrier into the +bourgeoisie, and then disclose himself as a unique flower of knavery, +extortion and misdirected ingenuity. Deep down in the hearts of our +revolutionists, I do not believe that there is any real enthusiasm for +the workingman. + +When the bookshop of Fernando Fe was still fin the Carrera de San +Jeronimo, I once heard Blasco Ibanez say with the cheapness that is his +distinguishing trait, laughing meanwhile ostentatiously, that a republic +in Spain would mean the rule of shoemakers and of the scum of the +streets. + + + + +THE CONVENTIONALIST BARRIOVERO + + +Barriovero, a conventionalist, according to Grandmontagne--yes, and how +keen the scent of this American for such matters!--attended the opening +of a radical club in the Calle del Principe with a party of friends. We +were all drinking champagne. Like other revolutionists and parvenus +generally, Lerroux is a victim of the superstition of champagne. + +"Aha, suppose those workingmen should see us drinking champagne!" +suggested some one. + +"What of it?" asked another. + +"I only wish for my part," Barriovero interrupted with a show of +sentiment, "that the workingman could learn to drink champagne." + +"Learn to drink it?" I burst out, "I see no difficulty about that. He +could drink champagne as well as anything else." + +"Not at all," said Barriovero the conventionalist, very gravely. "He has +the superstition of the peasant; he thinks he must leave enough wine to +cover the bottom of the glass." + +I doubt whether this observation will attract the attention of any +future Plutarch, although it might very well do so, as it expresses most +I clearly the distinction which exists in the minds of our +revolutionists between the workingman and the young gentleman. + + + + +ANARCHISTS + + +I have had a number of acquaintances among anarchists. Some of them are +dead; the majority of the others have changed their ideas. It is +apparent nowadays that the anarchism of Reclus and Kropotkin is out of +date, and entirely a thing of the past. The same tendencies will +reappear under other forms, and present new aspects. Among anarchists, I +have known Elysee Reclus, whom I met in the editorial offices of a +publication called _L'Humanite Nouvelle_, which was issued in Paris +in the Rue des Saints-Peres. I have also met Sebastien Faure during a +mass meeting organized in the interests of one Guerin, who had taken +refuge in a house in the Rue de Chabrol some eighteen or twenty years +ago. I have had relations with Malatesta and Tarrida del Marmol. As a +matter of fact, both these anarchists escorted me one afternoon from +Islington, where Malatesta lived, to the door of the St. James Club, one +of the most aristocratic retreats in London, where I had an appointment +to meet a diplomat. + +As for active anarchists, I have known a number, two or three of whom +have been dynamiters. + + + + +THE MORALITY OF THE ALTERNATING PARTY SYSTEM + + +The only difference between the morality of the Liberal party and that +of the Conservative party is one of clothes. Among Conservatives the +most primitive clout seems to be slightly more ample, but not noticeably +so. + +The preoccupations of both are purely with matters of style. The only +distinction is that the Conservatives make off with a great deal at +once, while the Liberals take less, but do it often. + +This is in harmony with the law of mechanics according to which what is +gained in force is lost in velocity and what is gained in intensity is +lost in expansion. After all, no doubt morality in politics should be a +negligible quantity. Honest, upright men who hearken only to the voice +of conscience, never get on in politics, neither are they ever +practical, nor good for anything. + +To succeed in politics, a certain facility is necessary, to which must +be added ambition and a thirst for glory. The last is the most innocent +of the three. + + + + +ON OBEYING THE LAW + + +It is safe, it seems to me, to assume the following axioms: First, to +obey the law is in no sense to attain justice; second, it is not +possible to obey the law strictly, thoroughly, in any country in the +world. + +That obeying the law has nothing to do with justice is indisputable, and +this is especially true in the political sphere, in which it is easy to +point to a rebel, such as Martinez Campos, who has been elevated to the +plane of a great man and who has been immortalized by a statue upon his +death, and then to a rebel such as Sanchez Moya, who Was merely shot. +The only difference between the men was in the results attained, and in +the manner of their exit. + +Hence I say that Lerroux was not only base, but obtuse and absurdly +wanting in human feeling and revolutionary sympathy, when he concurred +in the execution of the stoker of the "Numancia." + +If law and justice are identical and to comply with the law is +invariably to do justice, then what can be the distinction between the +progressive and the conservative? On the other hand, the revolutionist +has no alternative but to hold that law and justice are not the same, +and so he is obliged to subscribe to the benevolent character of all +crimes which are altruistic and social in their purposes, whether they +are reactionary or anarchistic in tendency. + +Now the second axiom, which is to the effect that there is no city or +country in the world in which it is possible to obey the law thoroughly, +is also self-evident. A certain class of common crimes, such as robbery, +cheating and swindling, murder and the like, are followed by a species +of automatic punishment in all quarters of the civilized world, in spite +of exceptions in specific cases, which result from the intervention of +political bosses and similar influences; but there are other offenses +which meet with no such automatic punishment. In these pardon and +penalty are meted out in a spirit of pure opportunism. + +I was discussing Zurdo Olivares one day with Emiliano Iglesias in the +office of _El Radical_, when I asked him: + +"How was it that Zurdo Olivares could save himself after playing such an +active role in the tragic week at Barcelona?" + +"Zurdo's salvation was indirectly owing to me," replied Iglesias. + +"But, my dear sir!" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"How did that happen?" + +"Very naturally. There were three cases to be tried; one was against +Ferrer, one against Zurdo, and another against me. A friend who enjoyed +the necessary influence, succeeded in quashing the case against me, as a +matter of personal favour, and as it seemed rather barefaced to make an +exception alone in my favour, it was decided to include Zurdo Olivares, +who, thanks to the arrangement, escaped being shot." + +"Then, if an influential friend of yours had not been a member of the +Ministry, you would both have been shot in the moat at Montjuich?" + +"Beyond question." + +And this took place in the heyday of Conservative power. + + + + +THE STERNNESS OF THE LAW + + +There are men who believe that the State, as at present constituted, is +the end and culmination of all human effort. According to this view, the +State is the best possible state, and its organization is considered so +perfect that its laws, discipline and formulae are held to be sacred and +immutable in men's eyes. Maura and all conservatives must be reckoned in +this group, and Lerroux too, appears to belong with them, as he holds +discipline in such exalted respect. + +On the other hand, there are persons who believe that the entire legal +structure is only a temporary scaffolding, and that what is called +justice today may be thought savagery tomorrow, so that it is the part +of wisdom not to look so much to the rule of the present as to the +illumination of the future. + +Since it is impossible to effect in practice automatic enforcement of +the law, especially in the sphere of political crimes, because of the +unlimited power of pardon vested in the hands of our public men, it +would seem judicious to err upon the side of mercy rather than upon that +of severity. Better fail the law and pardon a repulsive, bloody beast +such as Chato de Cuqueta, than shoot an addle-headed unfortunate such as +Clemente Garcia, or a dreamer like Sanchez Moya, whose hands were +innocent of blood. + +It was pointed out a long time ago that laws are like cobwebs; they +catch the little flies, and let the big ones pass through. + +How very severe, how very determined our politicians are with the little +flies, but how extremely affable they are with the big ones! + + + + +XVII + +MILITARY GLORY + + +No, I have not made up my mind upon the issues of this war. If it were +possible to determine what is best for Europe, I should of course desire +it, but this I do not know, and so I am uncertain. I am preoccupied by +the consequences which may follow the war in Spain. Some believe that +there will be an increase of militarism, but I doubt it. + +Many suppose that the crash of the present war will cause the prestige +of the soldier to mount upward like the spray, so that we shall have +nothing but uniforms and clanking of spurs throughout the world very +shortly, while the sole topics of conversation will be mortars, +batteries and guns. + +In my judgment those who take this standpoint are mistaken. The present +conflict will not establish war in higher favour. + +Perhaps its glories may not be diminished utterly. It may be that man +must of necessity kill, burn, and trample under foot, and that these +excesses of brutality are symptoms of collective health. + +Even if this be so, we may be sure that military glory is upon the eve +of an eclipse. + +Its decline began when the professional armies became nothing more than +armed militia, and from the moment that it became apparent that a +soldier might be improvised from a countryman with marvellous rapidity. + + + + +THE OLD-TIME SOLDIER + + +Formerly, a soldier was a man of daring and adventure, brave and +audacious, preferring an irregular life to the narrowing restraints of +civil existence. + +The old time soldier trusted in his star without scruple and without +fear, and imagined that he could dominate fate as the gambler fancies +that he masters the laws of chance. + +Valour, recklessness, together with a certain rough eloquence, a certain +itch to command, lay at the foundation of his life. His inducements were +pay, booty, showy uniforms and splendid horses. The soldier's life was +filled with adventure, he conquered wealth, he conquered women, and he +roamed through unknown lands. + +Until a few years ago, the soldier might have been summed up in three +words: he was brave, ignorant and adventurous. + +The warrior of this school passed out of Europe about the middle of the +19th Century. He became extinct in Spain at the conclusion of our Second +Civil War. + +Since that day there has been a fundamental change in the life of the +soldier. + +War has taken on greater magnitude, while the soldier has become more +refined, and it is not to be denied that both war and the fighting man +are losing their traditional prestige. + + + + +DOWN GOES PRESTIGE + + +The causes of this diminution of prestige are various. Some are moral, +such as the increased respect for human life, and the disfavour with +which the more aggressive, crueler qualities have come to be regarded. +Others, however, and perhaps these are of more importance, are purely +esthetic. Through a combination of circumstances, modern warfare, +although more tragic than was ancient warfare, and even more deadly, +nevertheless has been deprived of its spectacular features. + +Capacity for esthetic appreciation has its limits. Nobody is able to +visualize a battle in which two million men are engaged; it can only be +imagined as a series of smaller battles. In one of these modern battles, +substantially all the traditional elements which we have come to +associate with war, have disappeared. The horse, which bulks so largely +in the picture of a battle as it presents itself to our minds, scarcely +retains any importance at all; for the most part, automobiles, bicycles +and motor cycles have taken its place. These contrivances may be useful, +but they do not make the same appeal to the popular imagination. + + + + +SCIENCE AND THE PICTURESQUE + + +Upon taking over warfare, science stripped it of its picturesqueness. +The commanding general no longer cavorts upon his charger, nor smiles as +the bullets whistle about him, while he stands surrounded by an +ornamental general staff, whose breasts are covered with ribbons and +medals representing every known variety of hardware, whether monarchical +or republican. + +Today the general sits in a room, surrounded by telephones and telegraph +apparatus. If he smiles at all, it is only before the camera. + +An officer scarcely ever uses a sword, nor does he strut about adorned +with all his crosses and medals, nor does he wear the resplendent +uniforms of other days. On the contrary, his uniform is ugly and dirt +coloured, and innocent of devices. + +This officer is without initiative, he is subordinated to a fixed +general plan; surprises on either one side or the other, are almost out +of the question. + +The plan of battle is rigid and detailed. It permits neither originality +nor display of individuality upon the part of the generals, the lesser +officers, or the private soldiers. The individual is swallowed up by the +collective force. Outstanding types do not occur; nobody develops the +marked personality of the generals of the old school. + +Besides this, individual bravery, when not reinforced by other +qualities, is of less and less consequence. The bold, adventurous youth +who, years ago, would have been an embryo Murat, Messina, Espartero or +Prim, would be rejected today to make room for a mechanic who had the +skill to operate a machine, or for an aviator or an engineer who might +be capable of solving in a crisis a problem of pressing danger. + +The prestige of the soldier, even upon the battle field, has fallen +today below that of the man of science. + + + + +WHAT WE NEED TODAY + + +There are still some persons of a romantic turn of mind who imagine that +none but the soldier who defends his native land, the priest who +appeases the divine wrath and at the same time inculcates the moral law, +and the poet who celebrates the glories of the community, are worthy to +be leaders of the people. + +But the man of the present age does not desire any leaders. + +He has found that when someone wears red trousers or a black cassock, or +is able to write shorter lines than himself, it is no indication that he +is any better, nor any braver, nor any more moral, nor capable of deeper +feeling than he. + +The man of today will have no magicians, no high priests and no +mysteries. He is capable of being his own priest, his own soldier when +it is necessary, and of fighting for himself; he requires no specialists +in courage, in morals, nor in the realm of sentiment and feeling. What +we need today are good men and wise men. + + + + +OUR ARMIES + + +Prussian militarism has been explained upon the theory that it was a +development consequent upon a realization of the benefits which had +accrued to Prussia through war. As a matter of fact, however, it is not +possible to explain all militarism in this way. Certainly in Spain +neither wars nor the army have been of the slightest benefit to the +country. + +If we consider the epoch which goes by the name of contemporary history, +that is to say from the French Revolution to the present time, we shall +perceive immediately that we have not been over fortunate. + +The French Republic declared war upon us in 1793. A campaign of +astuteness, a tactical warfare was waged by us upon the frontiers, upon +occasion not without success, until finally the French army grew strong +enough to sweep us back, and to cross the Ebro. + +We took part in the battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Spain presented a fine +appearance, she made a mighty gesture with her Gravinas, her Churrucas +and her Alavas, but the battle itself was a disaster. + +In 1808 the War of Independence broke out, providing another splendid +exhibition of popular fervour. In this war, the regular Army was the +force which accomplished least. The war took its character from the +guerrillas, from the dwellers in the towns. The campaign was directed by +Englishmen. The Spanish army suffered more defeats than it won +victories, while its administrative and technical organization was +deplorable. The intervention of Angouleme followed in 1823. The Army was +composed of liberal officers, but it contained no troops, so that all +they ever did was to retire before the enemy, as he was more numerous +and more powerful. + +The Spanish cause in America was hopeless before the fighting began. The +land was enormous, troops were few, and in large measure composed of +Indians. What the English were never able to do in the fulness of their +power, was not to be accomplished by Spaniards in their decadence. Our +First Civil War, which was fierce, terrible, and waged without quarter, +called into being a valorous liberal army, and soldiers sprang up of the +calibre of Espartero, Zurbano and Narvaez, but simultaneously a powerful +Carlist army was organized under leaders of military genius, such as +Zumalacarregui and Cabrera. Victory for either side was impossible, and +the war ended in compromise. + +The Second Civil War also resulted in a system of pacts and compromises +far more secret than the Convention of Vergara. The Cuban war and the +war in the Philippines, as afterwards the war with the United States, +were calamitous, while the present campaign in Morocco has not one +redeeming feature. + +From the War of the French Revolution to this very day, the African War +has been the only one in which our forces have met with the slightest +success. + +Nevertheless, our soldiers aspire to a position of dominance in the +country equal to that attained by the French soldiers subsequent to +Jena, and by the Germans after Sedan. + +A WORD FROM KUROKI, THE JAPANESE + +"Gentlemen," said General Kuroki, speaking at a banquet tendered to him +in New York, "I cannot aspire to the applause of the world, because I +have created nothing, I have invented nothing. I am only a soldier." + +If these are not his identical words, they convey the meaning of them. + +This victorious, square-headed Mongolian had gotten into his head what +the dolichocephalic German blond, who, according to German +anthropologists is the highest product of Europe, and the brachycephalic +brunette of Gaul and the Latin and the Slav have never been able to +understand. + +Will they ever be able to understand it? Perhaps they never will be +able. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +When I sat down to begin these pages, somewhat at random, my intention +was to write an autobiography, accompanying it with such comments as +might suggest themselves. Looking continually to the right and to the +left, I have lost my way, and this book is the result. + +I have not attempted to correct or embellish it. So many books, trimmed +up nicely and well-padded, go to their graves every year to be forgotten +forever, that it has hardly seemed worth while to bedeck this one. I am +not a believer in _maquillage_ for the dead. + +Now one word more as to the subject of the book, which is I. + +If I were to live two hundred years at the very least, I might be able +to realize, by degrees, the maximum programme which I have laid down for +my life. As it scarcely seems possible that a man could live to such an +age, which is attained only by parrots, I find myself with no +alternative but to limit myself to a small portion of the introductory +section of my minimum programme, and this, as a matter of fact, I am +content to do. + +With hardship and effort, and the scanty means at my command, I have +succeeded in acquiring a house and garden in my own country, a +comfortable retreat which is sufficient for my needs. I have gathered a +small library in the house, which I hope will grow with time, besides a +few manuscripts and some curious prints. I do not believe that I have +ever harmed any man deliberately, so my conscience does not trouble me. +If my ideas are fragmentary and ill-considered, I have done my best to +make them sound, clear, and complete, so that it is not my fault if they +are not so. + +I have become independent financially. I not only support myself, but I +am able to travel occasionally upon the proceeds of my pen. + +A Russian publishing house, another in Germany, and another in the +United States are bringing out my books, paying me, moreover, for the +right of translation; and I am satisfied. I have friends of both sexes +in Madrid and in the Basque provinces, who seem already like old +friends, because I have grown fond of them. As I face old age, I feel +that I am walking upon firmer ground than I did in my youth. + +In a short time, what a few years ago the sociologists used to call +involution--that is, a turning in--will begin to take place in my brain; +the cranial sutures will become petrified, and an automatic limitation +of the mental horizon will soon come. + +I shall accept involution, petrification of the sutures and limitation +with good grace. I have never rebelled against logic, nor against +nature, against the lightning or the thunder storm. No sooner does one +gain the crest of the hill of life than at once he begins to descend +rapidly. We know a great deal the moment that we realize that nobody +knows anything. I am a little melancholy now and a little rheumatic; it +is time to take salicylates and to go out and work in the garden--a time +for meditation and for long stories, for watching the flames as they +flare upward under the chimney piece upon the hearth. + +I commend myself to the event. It is dark outside, but the door of my +house stands open. Whoever will, be he life or be he death, let him come +in. + + + + +PALINODE AND FRESH OUTBURST OF IRE + + +A few days ago I left the house with the manuscript of this book, to +which I have given the name of _Youth and Egolatry_, on my way to +the post office. + +It was a romantic September morning, swathed in thick, white mist. A +blue haze of thin smoke rose upward from the shadowy houses of the +neighbouring settlement, vanishing in the mist. Meanwhile, the birds +were singing, and a rivulet close by murmured in the stillness. + +Under the influence of the homely, placid country air, I felt my spirit +soften and grow more humble, and I began to think that the manuscript +which I carried in my hand was nothing more than a farrago of +foolishness and vulgarity. + +The voice of prudence, which was also that of cowardice, cautioned me: + +"What is the good of publishing this? Will it bring you reputation?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Have you anything to gain by it?" + +"Probably not either." + +"Then, why irritate and offend this one and that by saying things which, +after all, are nobody's business?" + +To the voice of prudence, however, my habitual self replied: + +"But what you have written is sincere, is it not? What do you care, +then, what they think about it?" + +But the voice of prudence continued: + +"How quiet everything is about you, how peaceful! This is life, after +all, and the rest is madness, vanity and vain endeavour." + +There was a moment when I was upon the point of tossing my manuscript +into the air, and I believe I should have done so, could I have been +sure that it would have dematerialized itself immediately like smoke; or +I would have thrown it into the river, if I had felt certain that the +current would have swept it out to sea. + + * * * * * + +This afternoon I went to San Sebastian to buy paper and salicylate of +soda, which is less agreeable. + +A number of public guards were riding together in the car on the way +over, along the frontier. They were discussing bull fighters, El Gallo +and Belmonte, and also the disorders of the past few days. + +"Too bad that Maura and La Cierva are not in power," said one of them, +who was from Murcia, smiling and exhibiting his decayed teeth. "They +would have made short work of this." + +"They are in reserve for the finish," said another, with, the solemnity +of a pious scamp. + +Returning from San Sebastian, I happened on a family from Madrid in the +same car. The father was weak, jaundiced and sour-visaged; the mother +was a fat brunette, with black eyes, who was loaded down with jewels, +while her face was made up until it was brilliant white, in colour like +a stearin candle. A rather good looking daughter of between fifteen and +twenty was escorted by a lieutenant who apparently was engaged to her. +Finally, there was another girl, between twelve and fourteen, flaccid +and lively as a still-life on a dinner table. Suddenly the father, who +was reading a newspaper, exclaimed: + +"Nothing is going to be done, I can see that; they are already applying +to have the revolutionists pardoned. The Government will do nothing." + +"I wish they would kill every one of them," broke in the girl who was +engaged to the lieutenant. "Think of it! Firing on soldiers! They are +bandits." + +"Yes, and with such a king as we have!" exclaimed the fat lady, with the +paraffine hue, in a mournful tone. "It has ruined our summer. I wish +they would shoot every one of them." + +"And they are not the only ones," interrupted the father. "The men who +are behind them, the writers and leaders, hide themselves, and then they +throw the first stones." + +Upon entering the house, I found that the final proofs of my book had +just arrived from the printer, and sat down to read them. + +The words of that family from Madrid still rang in my ears: "I wish they +would kill every one of them!" + +However one may feel, I thought to myself, it is impossible not to hate +such people. Such people are natural enemies. It is inevitable. + +Now, reading over the proofs of my book, it seems to me that it is not +strident enough. I could wish it were more violent, more anti-middle +class. + +I no longer hear the voice of prudence seducing me, as it did a few days +since, to a palinode in complicity with a romantic morning of white +mist. + +The zest of combat, of adventure stirs in me again. The sheltered +harbour seems a poor refuge in my eyes,--tranquillity and security +appear contemptible. + +"Here, boy, up, and throw out the sail! Run the red flag of revolution +to the masthead of our frail craft, and forth to sea!" + +Itzea, September, 1917. + + + + +APPENDICES + + +SPANISH POLITICIANS + +ON BAROJA'S ANARCHISTS + +NOTE + + + + +SPANISH POLITICIANS + + +The Spanish alternating party system has prevailed as a national +institution since the restoration of the monarchy under Alfonso XII. +Ostensibly it is based upon manhood suffrage, and in the cities this is +the fact, but in the more remote districts the balloting plays but small +part in the returns. Upon the dissolution of the Cortes and the +resignation of a ministry, one of the two great parties--the liberal +party and the conservative party--automatically retires from power, and +the other succeeds it, always carrying the ensuing elections by +convenient working majorities. + +Spain is a poor country. During the half century previous to the +restoration of the Bourbons, she was a victim of internecine strife and +factional warfare. She is not poor naturally, but her energy has been +drawn off; she has been bled white, and needs time to recuperate. The +Spaniards are a practical people. They realize this condition. Even the +lower classes are tired of fine talking. No people have heard more, and +none have profited less by it. The country is not like Russia, a fertile +field for the agitator; it looks coldly upon reform. Such response as +has been obtained by the radical has come from the labour centres under +the stimulus of foreign influences, and more particularly from +Barcelona, where the problem is political even before it is an +individual one. + +For this reason the Spanish Republicans are in large part theorists. The +land has been disturbed sufficiently. They would hesitate to inaugurate +radical reforms, if power were to be placed in their hands, while the +possession of power itself might prove not a little embarrassing. Behind +the monarchy lies the republic of 1873, behind Canovas and Castelar, Pi +y Margall; the republic has merged into and was, in a sense, the +foundation of the constitutional system of today. Even popular leaders +such as Lerroux are quick to recognize this fact, and govern themselves +accordingly. The lack of general education today, would render any +attempt at the establishment of a thorough-going democracy insecure. + +Francisco Ferrer, although idealized abroad, has been no more than a +symptom in Spain. Such men even as Angel Guimera, the dramatist, a +Catalan separatist who has been under surveillance for years, or Pere +Aldavert, who has suffered imprisonment in Barcelona because of his +opinions, while they speak for the proletariat, nevertheless have had +scant sympathy for Ferrer's ideas. It would be interesting to know just +to what extent these commend themselves to Pablo and Emiliano Iglesias +and the professed political Socialists. + +Of the existing parties, the Liberal, being more or less an association +of groups tending to the left, is the least homogeneous. Its most +prominent leader of late years has been the Conde de Romanones, who may +scarcely be said to represent a new era. He has shared responsibility +with Eduardo Dato. + +Among Conservatives, the chief figure has long been Antonio Maura. He is +not a young man. Politically, he represents very much what the cordially +detested Weyler did in the military sphere. But Maurism today is a very +different thing from the Maurism of fifteen years ago, or of the moat of +Montjuich. The name of Maura casts a spell over the Conservative +imagination. It is the rallying point of innumerable associations of +young men of reactionary, aristocratic and clerical tendencies +throughout the country, while to progressives it symbolizes the +oppressiveness of the old regime. + + + + +ON BAROJA'S ANARCHISTS + + +Baroja's memoirs afford convincing proof of his contact with radicals of +all sorts and classes, from stereotyped republicans such as Barriovero, +or the Argentine Francisco Grandmontagne, correspondent of _La +Prensa_ of Buenos Aires, to active anarchists of the type of Mateo +Morral. + +Morral was an habitue of a cafe in the Calle de Alcala at Madrid, where +Baroja was accustomed to go with his friends to take coffee, and, in the +Spanish phrase, to attend his _tertulia_. Morral would listen to +these conversations. After his attempt to assassinate the King and Queen +in the Calle Mayor on their return from the Royal wedding ceremony, +Baroja went to view Morral's body, but was refused admittance. A drawing +of Morral was made at the time, however, by Ricardo Baroja. + +In this connection, Jose Nakens, to whom the author pays his compliments +on an earlier page, was subjected to an unusual experience. Nakens, who +was a sufficiently mild gentleman, had taken a needy radical into his +house, and had given him shelter. This personage made a point of +inveighing to Nakens continually against Canovas del Castillo, proposing +to make way with him. When the news of the assassination of Canovas was +cried through the city, Nakens knew for the first that his visitor had +been in earnest. He was none other than the murderer Angiolillo. + +This anecdote became current in Madrid. Years afterwards when the prime +minister Canalejas was shot to death, the assassin recalled it to mind, +and repaired to the house of Nakens, who saw in dismay for the second +time his radical theories put to violent practical proof. The incident +proved extremely embarrassing. + +The crime of Morral forms the basis of Baroja's novel _La Dama +Errante_. He has also dealt with anarchism in _Aurora Roja_ (Red +Dawn). + +The mutiny on the ship "Numancia," referred to in the text, was an +incident of the same period of unrest, which was met with severe +repressive measures. + + + + +NOTE + + +The Madrid Ateneo is a learned society maintaining a house on the Calle +del Prado, in which is installed a private library of unusual +excellence. It has been for many years the principal depository of +modern books in Spain, and a favourite resort of scholars and research- +workers of the capital. + + + + +THE WORKS OF PIO BAROJA + + +Pio Baroja, recognized by the best critics as the foremost living +Spanish novelist, is without doubt the chief exponent of that ferment of +political and social thought in Spain which had its inception in the +cataclysm of 1898, and which gave rise to the new movement in Spanish +literature. + +Of course this "modern movement" was not actually born in 1898. It dates +back as far as Galdos, who is in spirit a modern. But it marked the +turning point. Benavente the dramatist, Azorin the critic, Ruben Dario +the poet, Pio Baroja the novelist, all date from this period, belonging +to and of the new generation, and, together with the Valencian Blasco +Ibanez, form the A B C of modern Spanish culture. + +"Baroja stands for the modern Spanish mind at its most enlightened," +says H. L. Mencken. "He is the Spaniard of education and worldly wisdom, +detached from the mediaeval imbecilities of the old regime and yet aloof +from the worse follies of the demagogues who now rage in the country ... +the Spaniard who, in the long run, must erect a new structure of society +upon the half archaic and half Utopian chaos now reigning in the +peninsular." + +Pio Baroja was born in 1872 at San Sebastian, the most fashionable +summer resort of Spain, the Spanish "Summer Capital." Baroja's father +was a noted mining engineer, and while without reputation as a man of +letters he was an occasional contributor to various periodicals and +dailies. He had destined his son for the medical profession, and Pio +studied at Valencia and Madrid, where he received his degree. He started +practice in the small town of Cestona, the type of town which figures +largely in his novels. + +But the young doctor soon wearied of his profession, and laying aside +his stethoscope forever, he returned to Madrid, where, in partnership +with an older brother, he opened a bakery. However he was no more +destined to be a cook than a doctor, so, encouraged by interested +friends, he succeeded in getting a few articles and stories accepted by +various Madrid papers. It was not long before he won distinction as a +journalist, and he presently abandoned baking entirely, devoting all his +energies to writing. + +His first novel, _Camino de Perfeccion_, published in 1902, was +received with but little enthusiasm. However he closely followed it with +several others, and Spain soon realized that she had a new writer of +unusual merit. Today he is pre-eminent among contemporary Spanish +authors. His books have been translated into French, German, Italian and +English. + +Alfred A. Knopf, Senor Baroja's authorized publisher in the English- +speaking countries, has published to date two of the novels: + +THE CITY OF THE DISCREET. Translated by Jacob S. Fassett, Jr. $2.00 net. +Around Cordova, the fascinating and romantic "city of the discreet," +Baroja has spun an adventurous tale. He gives you a vivid picture of the +city with her tortuous streets, ancient houses with their patios and +tiled roofs and of her "discreet" inhabitants. In a style that is +polished where Ibanez' is crudely vigorous, and with sympathy and +understanding, he portrays Quentin, the natural son of a Marquis and a +woman of humble birth; Pacheco, the ambitious bandit chief; Don Gil +Sabadia, the garrulous and convivial antiquarian, and a host of other +characters. + +"Unforgettable pictures are spread in a rich background for the action-- +Cordova at twilight, with its spires showing against the violet sky, the +narrow streets with white houses leaning toward each other, its squares +with sturdy beggars squatting around and its gardens heavy with the +scent of orange blossoms, where old fountains quietly drip."-- +_Indianapolis News_. + +"This fine novel ... shows us the best features of the modern Spanish +realistic school."--_The Bookman_. + +CAESAR OR NOTHING. Translated by Louis How. $2.00 net. + +This is the story of Caesar Moncada, a brilliantly clever young +Spaniard, who sets out to reform his country, to modernize it and its +government. In depicting Caesar's preparation in Rome, where his uncle +is a Cardinal, for the career he has planned for himself, Senor Baroja +etches vividly and entertainingly a typical cosmopolitan society--witty, +worldly, prosperous and cynical. The second part of the book describes +Caesar's political fight in Castro Duro. + +"Not only Spain's greatest novelist, but his greatest book. It is the +most important translation that has come out of Spain in our time in the +field of fiction and it will be remembered as epochal."--JOHN GARRETT +UNDERHILL, Representative in America of the Society of Spanish Authors +of Madrid. + +"Ranks Baroja as a master of fiction, with a keen sense of character, +constructive power and an active, dynamic style."--_Philadelphia +Ledger_. + +"I read _Caesar or Nothing_ with a profound admiration for its +power and skill. It is a great novel, which you deserve our thanks for +publishing."--HAROLD J. LASKI, of Harvard University. + +"A brilliant book--amazingly clever and humorous in its earlier +chapters, gradually accumulating depth as it moves along until it +becomes the stuff of tragedy at the close. The character he has created +in Caesar Moncada is one of the few really notable portrayals in recent +fiction."--_Chicago Post_. + +Translations of three other novels by Baroja are in preparation in the +competent hands of Dr. Isaac Goldberg. The first, _LA DAMA +ERRANTE_, will be ready in the Fall of 1920. Probable price, $2.00. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth and Egolatry, by Pio Baroja + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH AND EGOLATRY *** + +This file should be named 7yego10.txt or 7yego10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7yego11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7yego10a.txt + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Youth and Egolatry + +Author: Pío Baroja + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8148] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH AND EGOLATRY *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +Youth and Egolatry + +By PÍO BAROJA + +Translated from the Spanish By Jacob S. Fassett, Jr. and Frances L. +Phillips + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION BY H. L. MENCKEN + +PROLOGUE + +ON INTELLECTUAL LOVE +EGOTISM + +I. FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS + +The bad man of Itzea +Humble and a wanderer +Dogmatophagy +Ignoramus, Ignorabimus +Nevertheless, we call ourselves materialists +In defense of religion +Arch-European +Dionysus or Apollonian +Epicuri de grege porcum +Evil and Rousseau's Chinaman +The root of disinterested evil +Music as a sedative +Concerning Wagner +Universal musicians +The folk song +On the optimism of eunuchs + +II. MYSELF, THE WRITER + +To my readers thirty years hence +Youthful writings +The beginning and end of the journey +Mellowness and the critical sense +Sensibility +On devouring one's own God +Anarchism +New paths +Longing for change +Baroja, you will never amount to anything (A Refrain) +The patriotism of desire +My home lands +Cruelty and stupidity +The anterior image +The tragi-comedy of sex +The veils of the sexual life +A little talk +The sovereign crowd +The remedy + +III. THE EXTRARADIUS + +Rhetoric and anti-rhetoric +The rhythm of style +Rhetoric of the minor key +The value of my ideas +Genius and admiration +My literary and artistic inclinations +My library +On being a gentleman +Giving offence +Thirst for glory +Elective antipathies +To a member of several academies + +IV. ADMIRATIONS AND INCOMPATIBILITIES + +Cervantes, Shakespeare, Molière +The encyclopedists +The romanticists +The naturalists +The Spanish realists +The Russians +The critics + +V. THE PHILOSOPHERS + +VI. THE HISTORIANS + +The Roman historians +Modern and contemporary historians + +VII. MY FAMILY + +Family mythology +Our History + +VIII. MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD + +San Sebastian +My parents +Monsignor +Two lunatics +The hawk +In Madrid +In Pamplona +Don Tirso Larequi +A visionary rowdy +Sarasate +Robinson Crusoe and the Mysterious Island + +IX. AS A STUDENT + +Professors +Anti-militarism +To Valencia + +X. AS A VILLAGE DOCTOR + +Dolores, La Sacristana + +XI. AS A BAKER + +My father's disillusionment +Industry and democracy +The vexations of a small tradesman + +XII. AS A WRITER + +Bohemia +Our own generation +Azorín +Paul Schmitz +Ortega y Gasset +A pseudo-patron + +XIII. PARISIAN DAYS + +Estévanez +My versatility according to Bonafoux + +XIV. LITERARY ENMITIES + +The enmity of Dicenta +The posthumous enmity of Sawa +Semi-hatred on the part of Silverio Lanza + +XV. THE PRESS + +Our newspapers and periodicals +Our journalists +Americans + +XVI. POLITICS + +Votes and applause +Politicians +Revolutionists +Lerroux +An offer +Socialists +Love of the workingman +The conventionalist Barriovero +Anarchists +The morality of the alternating party system +On obeying the law +The sternness of the law + +XVII. MILITARY GLORY + +The old-time soldier +Down goes prestige +Science and the picturesque +What we need today +Our armies +A word from Kuroki, the Japanese + +EPILOGUE +Palinode and fresh outburst of ire + +APPENDICES +Spanish politicians +On Baroja's anarchists +Note + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Pío Baroja is a product of the intellectual reign of terror that went on +in Spain after the catastrophe of 1898. That catastrophe, of course, was +anything but unforeseen. The national literature, for a good many years +before the event, had been made dismal by the croaking of Iokanaans, and +there was a definite _défaitiste_ party among the _intelligentsia_. +But among the people in general, if there was not optimism, there was at +least a sort of resigned indifference, and so things went ahead in the +old stupid Spanish way and the structure of society, despite a few +gestures of liberalism, remained as it had been for generations. In Spain, +of course, there is always a _Kulturkampf_, as there is in Italy, +but during these years it was quiescent. The Church, in the shadow of +the restored monarchy, gradually resumed its old privileges and its old +pretensions. So on the political side. In Catalonia, where Spain keeps the +strangest melting-pot in Europe and the old Iberian stock is almost +extinct, there was a menacing seething, but elsewhere there was not much +to chill the conservative spine. In the middle nineties, when the +Socialist vote in Germany was already approaching the two million mark, +and Belgium was rocked by great Socialist demonstrations, and the +Socialist deputies in the French Chamber numbered fifty, and even England +was beginning to toy gingerly with new schemes of social reform, by +Bismarck out of Lassalle, the total strength of the Socialists of Spain +was still not much above five thousand votes. In brief, the country seemed +to be removed from the main currents of European thought. There was +unrest, to be sure, but it was unrest that was largely inarticulate and +that needed a new race of leaders to give it form and direction. + +Then came the colossal shock of the American war and a sudden +transvaluation of all the old values. Anti-clericalism got on its legs +and Socialism got on its legs, and out of the two grew that great +movement for the liberation of the common people, that determined and +bitter struggle for a fair share in the fruits of human progress, which +came to its melodramatic climax in the execution of Francisco Ferrer. +Spain now began to go ahead very rapidly, if not in actual achievement, +then at least in the examination and exchange of ideas, good and bad. +Parties formed, split, blew up, revived and combined, each with its sure +cure for all the sorrows of the land. Resignationism gave way to a harsh +and searching questioning, and questioning to denunciation and demand +for reform. The monarchy swayed this way and that, seeking to avoid both +the peril of too much yielding and the worse peril of not yielding +enough. The Church, on the defensive once more, prepared quickly for +stormy weather and sent hurried calls to Rome for help. Nor was all this +uproar on the political and practical side. Spanish letters, for years +sunk into formalism, revived with the national spirit, and the new books +in prose and verse began to deal vigorously with the here and now. +Novelists, poets and essayists appeared who had never been heard of +before--young men full of exciting ideas borrowed from foreign lands and +even more exciting ideas of their own fashioning. The national +literature, but lately so academic and remote from existence, was now +furiously lively, challenging and provocative. The people found in it, +not the old placid escape from life, but a new stimulation to arduous +and ardent living. And out of the ruck of authors, eager, exigent, and +the tremendous clash of nations, new and old, there finally emerged a +prose based not upon rhetorical reminiscences, but responsive minutely +to the necessities of the national life. The oratorical platitudes of +Castelar and Cánovas del Castillo gave way to the discreet analyses of +Azorín (José Martínez Ruiz) and José Ortega y Gasset, to the sober +sentences of the Rector of the University of Salamanca, Miguel de +Unamuno, writing with a restraint which is anything but traditionally +Castilian, and to the journalistic impressionism of Ramiro de Maeztu, +supple and cosmopolitan from long residence abroad. The poets now +jettisoned the rotundities of the romantic and emotional schools of +Zorrilla and Salvador Rueda, and substituted instead the precise, +pictorial line of Rubén Darío, Juan Ramón Jiménez, and the brothers +Machado, while the socialistic and republican propaganda which had +invaded the theatre with Pérez Galdós, Joaquín Dicenta, and Angel +Guimerá, bore fruit in the psychological drama of Benavente, the social +comedies of Linares Rivas, and the atmospheric canvases which the +Quinteros have painted of Andalusia. + +In the novel, the transformation is noticeable at once in the rapid +development of the pornographic tale, whose riches might bring a blush +to the cheek of Boccaccio, and provide Poggio and Aretino with a +complete review; but these are stories for the barrack, venturing only +now and then upon the confines of respectability in the erotic romances +of Zamacois and the late enormously popular Felipe Trigo. Few Spaniards +who write today but have written novels. Yet the gesture of the grand +style of Valera is palsied, except, perhaps, for the conservative +Quixote, Ricardo León, a functionary in the Bank of Spain, while the +idyllic method lingers fitfully in such gentle writers as José María +Salaverría, after surviving the attacks of the northern realists under +the lead of Pereda, in his novels of country life, and of the less +vigorous Antonio de Trueba, and of Madrid vulgarians, headed by Mesonero +Romanos and Coloma. The decadent novel, foreshadowed a few years since +by Alejandro Sawa, has attained full maturity in Hoyos y Vinent, while +the distinctive growth of the century is the novel of ideas, exact, +penetrating, persistently suggestive in the larger sense, which does not +hesitate to make demands upon the reader, and this is exemplified most +distinctively, both temperamentally and intellectually, by Pío Baroja. + +It would be difficult to find two men who, dealing with the same ideas, +bring to them more antagonistic attitudes of mind than Baroja and Blasco +Ibáñez. For all his appearance of modernism, Blasco really belongs to +the generation before 1898. He is of the stock of Victor Hugo--a +popular rhapsodist and intellectual swashbuckler, half artist and half +mob orator--a man of florid and shallow certainties, violent +enthusiasms, quack remedies, vast magnetism and address, and even vaster +impudence--a fellow with plain touches of the charlatan. His first solid +success at home was made with _La Barraca_ in 1899--and it was a +success a good deal more political than artistic; he was hailed for his +frenzy far more than for his craft. Even outside of Spain his subsequent +celebrity has tended to ground itself upon agreement with his politics, +and not upon anything properly describable as a critical appreciation of +his talents. Had _The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse_ been +directed against France instead of in favour of France, it goes without +saying that it would have come to the United States without the +_imprimatur_ of the American Embassy at Madrid, and that there +would have appeared no sudden rage for the author among the generality +of novel-readers. His intrinsic merits, in sober retrospect, seem very +feeble. For all his concern with current questions, his accurate news +instinct, he is fundamentally a romantic of the last century, with more +than one plain touch of the downright operatic. + +Baroja is a man of a very different sort. A novelist undoubtedly as +skilful as Blasco and a good deal more profound, he lacks the quality of +enthusiasm and thus makes a more restricted appeal. In place of gaudy +certainties he offers disconcerting questionings; in place of a neat and +well-rounded body of doctrine he puts forward a sort of generalized +contra-doctrine. Blasco is almost the typical Socialist--iconoclastic, +oratorical, sentimental, theatrical--a fervent advocate of all sorts of +lofty causes, eagerly responsive to the shibboleths of the hour. Baroja +is the analyst, the critic, almost the cynic. If he leans toward any +definite doctrine at all, it is toward the doctrine that the essential +ills of man are incurable, that all the remedies proposed are as bad as +the disease, that it is almost a waste of time to bother about humanity +in general. This agnostic attitude, of course, is very far from merely +academic, monastic. Baroja, though his career has not been as dramatic +as Blasco's, has at all events taken a hand in the life of his time and +country and served his day in the trenches of the new enlightenment. He +is anything but a theorist. But there is surely no little significance +in his final retreat to his Basque hillside, there to seek peace above +the turmoil. He is, one fancies, a bit disgusted and a bit despairing. +But if it is despair, it is surely not the despair of one who has +shirked the trial. + +The present book, _Juventud, Egolatría_, was written at the height +of the late war, and there is a preface to the original edition, omitted +here, in which Baroja defends his concern with aesthetic and +philosophical matters at such a time. The apologia was quite gratuitous. +A book on the war, though by the first novelist of present-day Spain, +would probably have been as useless as all the other books on the war. +That stupendous event will be far more soundly discussed by men who have +not felt its harsh appeal to the emotions. Baroja, evading this grand +enemy of all ideas, sat himself down to inspect and co-ordinate the +ideas that had gradually come to growth in his mind before the bands +began to bray. The result is a book that is interesting, not only as the +frank talking aloud of one very unusual man, but also as a +representation of what is going on in the heads of a great many other +Spaniards. Blasco, it seems to me, is often less Spanish than French; +Valencia, after all, is next door to Catalonia, and Catalonia is +anything but Castilian. But Baroja, though he is also un-Castilian and +even a bit anti-Castilian, is still a thorough Spaniard. He is more +interested in a literary feud in Madrid than in a holocaust beyond the +Pyrenees. He gets into his discussion of every problem a definitely +Spanish flavour. He is unmistakably a Spaniard even when he is trying +most rigorously to be unbiased and international. He thinks out +everything in Spanish terms. In him, from first to last, one observes +all the peculiar qualities of the Iberian mind--its disillusion, its +patient weariness, its pervasive melancholy. Spain, I take it, is the +most misunderstood of countries. The world cannot get over seeing it +through the pink mist of _Carmen_, an astounding Gallic caricature, +half flattery and half libel. The actual Spaniard is surely no such +grand-opera Frenchman as the immortal toreador. I prescribe the +treatment that cured me, for one, of mistaking him for an Iberian. That +is, I prescribe a visit to Spain in carnival time. + +Baroja, then, stands for the modern Spanish mind at its most +enlightened. He is the Spaniard of education and worldly wisdom, +detached from the mediaeval imbecilities of the old régime and yet aloof +from the worse follies of the demagogues who now rage in the country. +Vastly less picturesque than Blasco Ibáñez, he is nearer the normal +Spaniard--the Spaniard who, in the long run, must erect a new structure +of society upon the half archaic and half Utopian chaos now reigning in +the peninsula. Thus his book, though it is addressed to Spaniards, +should have a certain value for English-speaking readers. And so it is +presented. + +H. L. MENCKEN. + + + + +PROLOGUE + +ON INTELLECTUAL LOVE + +Only what is of the mind has value to the mind. Let us dedicate +ourselves without compunction to reflecting a little upon the eternal +themes of life and art. It is surely proper that an author should write +of them. + +I cultivate a love which is intellectual, and of a former epoch, besides +a deafness to the present. I pour out my spirit continually into the +eternal moulds without expecting that anything will result from it. + +But now, instead of a novel, a few stray comments upon my life have come +from my pen. + +Like most of my books, this has appeared in my hands without being +planned, and not at my bidding. I was asked to write an autobiographical +sketch of ten or fifteen pages. Ten or fifteen pages seemed a great many +to fill with the personal details of a life which is as insignificant as +my own, and far too few for any adequate comment upon them. I did not +know how to begin. To pick up the thread, I began drawing lines and +arabesques. Then the pages grew in number and, like Faust's dog, my pile +soon waxed big, and brought forth this work. + +At times, perhaps, the warmth of the author's feeling may appear ill- +advised to the reader; it may be that he will find his opinions +ridiculous and beside the mark on every page. I have merely sought to +sun my vanity and egotism, to bring them forth into the air, so that my +aesthetic susceptibilities might not be completely smothered. + +This book has been a work of mental hygiene. + + + + +EGOTISM + + +Egotism resembles cold drinks in summer; the more you take, the +thirstier you get. It also distorts the vision, producing an hydropic +effect, as has been noted by Calderón in his _Life is a Dream_. + +An author always has before him a keyboard made up of a series of I's. +The lyric and satiric writers play in the purely human octave; the +critic plays in the bookman's octave; the historian in the octave of the +investigator. When an author writes of himself, perforce he plays upon +his own "I," which is not exactly that contained in the octave of the +sentimentalist nor yet in that of the curious investigator. Undoubtedly +at times it must be a most immodest "I," an "I" which discloses a name +and a surname, an "I" which is positive and self-assertive, with the +imperiousness of a Captain General's edict or a Civil Governor's decree. + +I have always felt some delicacy in talking about myself, so that the +impulsion to write these pages of necessity came from without. + +As I am not generally interested when anybody communicates his likes and +dislikes to me, I am of opinion that the other person most probably +shares the same feelings when I communicate mine to him. However, a time +has now arrived when it is of no consequence to me what the other person +thinks. + +In this matter of giving annoyance, a formula should be drawn up and +accepted, after the manner of Robespierre: the liberty of annoying +another begins where his liberty of annoying you leaves off. + +I understand very well that there may be persons who believe that their +lives are wholly exemplary, and who thus burn with ardour to talk about +them. But I have not led an exemplary life to any such extent. I have +not led a life that might be called pedagogic, because it is fitted to +serve as a model, nor a life that might be called anti-pedagogic, +because it would serve as a warning. Neither do I bring a fistful of +truths in my hand, to scatter broadcast. What, then, have I to say? And +why do I write about myself? Assuredly, to no useful purpose. + +The owner of a house is sometimes asked: + +"Is there anything much locked up in that room?" + +"No, nothing but old rubbish," he replies promptly. + +But one day the owner opens the room, and then he finds a great store of +things which he had not remembered, all of them covered with dust; so he +hauls them out and generally they prove to be of no service at all. This +is precisely what I have done. + +These pages, indeed, are a spontaneous exudation. But are they sincere? +Absolutely sincere? It is not very probable. The moment we sit for a +photographer, instinctively we dissemble and compose our features. When +we talk about ourselves, we also dissemble. + +In as short a book as this the author is able to play with his mask and +to fix his expression. Throughout the work of an entire lifetime, +however, which is of real value only when it is one long autobiography, +deceit is impossible, because when the writer is least conscious of it, +he reveals himself. + + + + +I + +FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS + +The Bad Man of Itzea + + +When I first came to live in this house at Vera del Bidasoa, I found +that the children of the district had taken possession of the entryway +and the garden, where they misbehaved generally. It was necessary to +drive them away little by little, until they flew off like a flock of +sparrows. + +My family and I must have seemed somewhat peculiar to these children, +for one day, when one little fellow caught sight of me, he took refuge +in the portal of his house and cried out: + +"Here comes the bad man of Itzea!" + +And the bad man of Itzea was I. + +Perhaps this child had heard from his sister, and his sister had heard +from her mother, and her mother had heard from the sexton's wife, and +the sexton's wife from the parish priest, that men who have little +religion are very bad; perhaps this opinion did not derive from the +priest, but from the president of the Daughters of Mary, or from the +secretary of the Enthronization of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; perhaps +some of them had read a little book by Father Ladrón de Guevara +entitled, _Novelists, Good and Bad_, which was distributed in the +village the day that I arrived, and which states that I am irreligious, +a clerophobe, and quite shameless. Whether from one source or another, +the important consideration to me was that there was a bad man in Itzea, +and that that bad man was I. + +To study and make clear the instincts, pride, and vanities of the bad +man of Itzea is the purpose of this book. + + + + +HUMBLE AND A WANDERER + + +Some years ago, I cannot say just how many, probably twelve or fourteen, +during the days when I led, or thought I led, a nomadic life, happening +to be in San Sebastian, I went to visit the Museum with the painter +Regoyos. After seeing everything, Soraluce, the director, indicated that +I was expected to inscribe my name in the visitor's register, and after +I had done so, he said: + +"Place your titles beneath." + +"Titles!" I exclaimed. "I have none." + +"Then put down what you are. As you see, the others have done the same." + +I looked at the book. True enough; there was one signature, So-and-So, +and beneath, "Chief of Administration of the Third Class and Knight of +Charles III"; another, Somebody Else, and beneath was written "Commander +of the Battalion of Isabella the Catholic, with the Cross of Maria +Cristina." + +Then, perhaps slightly irritated at having neither titles nor honours +(burning with an anarchistic and Christian rancour, as Nietzsche would +have it), I jotted down a few casual words beneath my signature: + +"Pío Baroja, a humble man and a wanderer." + +Regoyos read them and burst out laughing. + +"What an idea!" exclaimed the director of the Museum, as he closed the +volume. + +And there I remained a humble man and a wanderer, overshadowed by Chiefs +of Administration of all Classes, Commanders of all Branches of the +Service, Knights of all kinds of Crosses, rich men returned from +America, bankers, etc., etc. + +Am I a humble man and a wanderer? Not a bit of it! There is more +literary phantasy in the phrase than there is truth. Of humility I do +not now, nor have I ever possessed more than a few rather Buddhistic +fragments; nor am I a wanderer either, for making a few insignificant +journeys does not authorize one to call oneself a wanderer. Just as I +put myself down at that time as a humble man and a wanderer, so I might +call myself today a proud and sedentary person. Perhaps both +characterizations contain some degree of truth; and perhaps there is +nothing in either. + +When a man scrutinizes himself very closely, he arrives at a point where +he does not know what is face and what is mask. + + + + +DOGMATOPHAGY + + +If I am questioned concerning my ideas on religion, I reply that I am an +agnostic--I always like to be a little pedantic with philistines--now I +shall add that, more than this, I am a dogmatophagist. + +My first impulse in the presence of a dogma, whether it be political, +moral, or religious, is to cast about for the best way to masticate, +digest, and dispose of it. + +The peril in an inordinate appetite for dogma lies in the probability of +making too severe a drain upon the gastric juices, and so becoming +dyspeptic for the rest of one's life. + +In this respect, my inclination exceeds my prudence. I have an incurable +dogmatophagy. + +Ignoramus, Ignorabimus + +Such are the words of the psychologist, DuBois-Reymond, in one of his +well-known lectures. The agnostic attitude is the most seemly that it is +possible to take. Nowadays, not only have all religious ideas been +upset, but so too has everything which until now appeared most solid, +most indivisible. Who has faith any longer in the atom? Who believes in +the soul as a monad? Who believes in the objective validity of the +senses? + +The atom, unity of the spirit and of consciousness, the validity of +perception, all these are under suspicion today. _Ignoramus, +ignorabimus_. + + + + +NEVERTHELESS, WE CALL OURSELVES MATERIALISTS + + +Nevertheless, we call ourselves materialists. Yes; not because we +believe that matter exists as we see it, but because in this way we may +contradict the vain imaginings and all those sacred mysteries which +begin so modestly, and always end by extracting the money from our +pockets. + +Materialism, as Lange has said, has proved itself the most fecund +doctrine of science. Wilhelm Ostwald, in his _Victory of Scientific +Materialism_, has defended the same thesis with respect to modern +physics and chemistry. + +At the present time we are regaled with the sight of learned friars +laying aside for a moment their ancient tomes, and turning to dip into +some manual of popular science, after which they go about and astonish +simpletons by giving lectures. + +The war horse of these gentlemen is the conception entertained by +physicists at the present-day concerning matter, according to which it +has substance in the precise degree that it is a manifestation of +energy. + +"If matter is scarcely real, then what is the validity of materialism?" +shout the friars enthusiastically. + +The argument smacks of the seminary and is absolutely worthless. + +Materialism is more than a philosophical system: it is a scientific +method, which will have nothing to do either with fantasies or with +caprices. + +The jubilation of these friars at the thought that matter may not exist, +in truth and in fact is in direct opposition to their own theories. +Because if matter does not exist, then what could God have created? + + + + +IN DEFENSE OF RELIGION + + +The great defender of religion is the lie. Lies are the most vital +possession of man. Religion lives upon lies, and society maintains +itself upon them, with its train of priests and soldiers--the one, +moreover, as useless as the other. This great Maia of falsehood sustains +all the sky borders in the theatre of life, and, when some fall, it +lifts up others. + +If there were a solvent for lies, what surprises would be in store for +us! Nearly everybody who now appears to us to be upright, inflexible, +and to hold his chest high, would be disclosed as a flaccid, weak +person, presenting in reality a sorry spectacle. + +Lies are much more stimulating than truth; they are also almost always +more tonic and more healthy. I have come to this conclusion rather late +in life. For utilitarian and practical ends, it is clearly our duty to +cultivate falsehood, arbitrariness, and partial truths. Nevertheless, we +do not do so. Can it be that, unconsciously, we have something of the +heroic in us? + + + + +ARCH-EUROPEAN + + +I am a Basque, if not on all four sides, at least on three and a half. +The remaining half, which is not Basque, is Lombard. + +Four of my eight family names are Guipúzcoan, two of them are Navarrese, +one Alavese, and the other Italian. I take it that family names are +indicative of the countries where one's ancestors lived, and I take it +also that there is great potency behind them, that the influence of each +works upon the individual with a duly proportioned intensity. Assuming +this to be the case, the resultant of the ancestral influences operative +upon me would indicate that my geographical parallel lies somewhere +between the Alps and the Pyrenees. Sometimes I am inclined to think that +the Alps and the Pyrenees are all that is European in Europe. Beyond +them I seem to see Asia; below them, Africa. + +In the riparian Navarrese, as in the Catalans and the Genovese, one +already notes the African; in the Gaul of central France, as well as in +the Austrian, there is a suggestion of the Chinese. + +Clutching the Pyrenees and grafted upon the Alps, I am conscious of +being an Arch-European. + + + +DIONYSIAN OR APOLLONIAN? + + +Formerly, when I believed that I was both humble and a wanderer, I was +convinced that I was a Dionysian. I was impelled toward turbulence, the +dynamic, the theatric. Naturally, I was an anarchist. Am I today? I +believe I still am. In those days I used to enthuse about the future, +and I hated the past. + +Little by little, this turbulence has calmed down--perhaps it was never +very great. Little by little I have come to realize that if following +Dionysus induces the will to bound and leap, devotion to Apollo has a +tendency to throw the mind back until it rests upon the harmony of +eternal form. There is great attraction in both gods. + + + + +EPICURI DE GREGE PORCUM + + +I am also a swine of the herd of Epicurus; I, too, wax eloquent over +this ancient philosopher, who conversed with his pupils in his garden. +The very epithet of Horace, upon detaching himself from the Epicureans, +"_Epicuri de grege porcum_," is full of charm. + +All noble minds have hymned Epicurus. "Hail Epicurus, thou honour of +Greece!" Lucretius exclaims in the third book of his poem. + +"I have sought to avenge Epicurus, that truly holy philosopher, that +divine genius," Lucian tells us in his _Alexander, or the False +Prophet_. Lange, in his _History of Materialism_, sets down +Epicurus as a disciple and imitator of Democritus. + +I am not a man of sufficient classical culture to be able to form an +authoritative opinion of the merits of Epicurus as a philosopher. All my +knowledge of him, as well as of the other ancient philosophers, is +derived from the book of Diogenes Laertius. + +Concerning Epicurus, I have read Bayle's magnificent article in his +_Historical and Critical Dictionary_, and Gassendi's work, _De +Vita et Moribus Epicuri_. With this equipment, I have become one of +the disciples of the master. + +Scholars may say that I have no right to enrol myself as one of the +disciples of Epicurus, but when I think of myself, spontaneously there +comes to my mind the grotesque epithet which Horace applied to the +Epicureans in his _Epistles_, a characterization which for my part +I accept and regard as an honour: "Swine of the herd of Epicurus, +_Epicuri de grege porcum_." + + + + +EVIL AND ROUSSEAU'S CHINAMAN + + +I do not believe in utter human depravity, nor have I any faith in great +virtue, nor in the notion that the affairs of life may be removed beyond +good and evil. We shall outgrow, we have already outgrown, the +conception of sin, but we shall never pass beyond the idea of good and +evil; that would be equivalent to skipping the cardinal points in +geography. Nietzsche, an eminent poet and an extraordinary psychologist, +convinced himself that we should be able to leap over good and evil with +the help of a springboard of his manufacture. + +Not with this springboard, nor with any other, shall we escape from the +polar North and South of the moral life. + +Nietzsche, a product of the fiercest pessimism, was at heart a good man, +being in this respect the direct opposite of Rousseau, who, despite the +fact that he is forever talking about virtue, about sensibility, the +heart, and the sublimity of the soul, was in reality a low, sordid +creature. + +The philanthropist of Geneva shows the cloven hoof now and then. He +asks: "If all that it were necessary for us to do in order to inherit +the riches of a man whom we had never seen, of whom we had never even +heard, and who lived in the furthermost confines of China, were to press +a button and cause his death, what man living would not press that +button?" + +Rousseau is convinced that we should all press the button, and he is +mistaken, because the majority of men who are civilized would do nothing +of the kind. This, to my mind, is not to say that men are good; it is +merely to say that Rousseau, in his enthusiasm for humanity, as well as +in his aversion to it, is wide of the mark. The evil in man is not evil +of this active sort, so theatrical, so self-interested; it is a passive, +torpid evil which lies latent in the depths of the human animal, it is +an evil which can scarcely be called evil. + + + + +THE ROOT OF DISINTERESTED EVIL + + +Tell a man that an intimate friend has met with a great misfortune. His +first impulse is one of satisfaction. He himself is not aware of it +clearly, he does not realize it; nevertheless, essentially his emotion +is one of satisfaction. This man may afterward place his fortune, if he +has one, at the disposition of his friend, yes, even his life; yet this +will not prevent his first conscious reaction upon learning of the +misfortune of his friend, from being one which, although confused, is +nevertheless not far removed from pleasure. This feeling of +disinterested malice may be observed in the relations between parents +and children as well as in those between husbands and wives. At times it +is not only disinterested, but counter-interested. + +The lack of a name for this background of disinterested malice, which +does exist, is due to the fact that psychology is not based so much upon +phenomena as it is upon language. + +According to our current standards, latent evil of this nature is +neither of interest nor significance. Naturally, the judge takes account +of nothing but deeds; to religion, which probes more deeply, the intent +is of importance; to the psychologist, however, who attempts to +penetrate still further, the elemental germinative processes of volition +are of indispensable significance. + +Whence this foundation of disinterested malice in man? Probably it is an +ancestral legacy. Man is a wolf toward man, as Plautus observes, and the +idea has been repeated by Hobbes. + +In literature, it is almost idle to look for a presentation of this +disinterested, this passive evil, because nothing but the conscious is +literary. Shakespeare, in his _Othello_, a drama which has always +appeared false and absurd to me, emphasizes the disinterested malice of +Iago, imparting to him a character and mode of action which are beyond +those of normal men; but then, in order to accredit him to the +spectators, he adds also a motive, and represents him as being in love +with Desdemona. + +Victor Hugo, in _L'Homme qui Rit_, undertook to create a type after +the manner of Iago, and invented Barkilphedro, who embodies +disinterested yet active malice, which is the malice of the villain of +melodrama. + +But that other disinterested malice, which lurks in the sodden sediment +of character, that malice which is disinterested and inactive, and not +only incapable of drawing a dagger but even of writing an anonymous +note, this no writer but Dostoievski has had the penetration to reveal. +He has shown us at the same time mere inert goodness, lying passive in +the soul, without ever serving as a basis for anything. + + + + +MUSIC AS A SEDATIVE + + +Music, the most social of the arts, and that undoubtedly which possesses +the greatest future, presents enormous attractions to the bourgeoisie. +In the first place, it obviates the necessity of conversation; it is not +necessary to know whether your neighbor is a sceptic or a believer, a +materialist or a spiritualist; no possible argument can arise concerning +the meaning and metaphysics of life. Instead of war, there is peace. The +music lover may argue, but his conceptions are entirely circumscribed by +the music, and have no relation whatever either to philosophy or to +politics as such. The wars are small wars, and spill no blood. A +Wagnerite may be a freethinker or a Catholic, an anarchist or a +conservative. Even painting, which is an art of miserable general ideas, +is not so far removed from intelligence as is music. This explains why +the Greeks were able to attain such heights in philosophy, and yet fell +to such depths in music. + +Music has an additional merit. It lulls to sleep the residuum of +disinterested malice in the soul. + +As a majority of the lovers of painting and sculpture are second-hand +dealers and Jews in disguise, music lovers, for the most part, are a +debased people, envious, embittered and supine. + + + + +CONCERNING WAGNER + + +I am one of those who do not understand music, yet I am not completely +insensible to it. This does not prevent me, however, from entertaining a +strong aversion to all music lovers, and especially to Wagnerites. + +When Nietzsche, who apparently possessed a musical temperament, set +Bizet up against Wagner, he confessed, of course, premeditated +vindictiveness. "It is necessary to mediterraneanize music," declares +the German psychologist. But how absurd! Music must confine itself to +the geographical parallel where it was born; it is Mediterranean, +Baltic, Alpine, Siberian. Nor is the contention valid that an air should +always have a strongly marked rhythm, because, if this were the case, we +should have nothing but dance music. Certainly, music was associated +with the dance in the beginning, but a sufficient number of years have +now elapsed to enable each of these arts to develop independently. + +As regards Nietzsche's hostility to the theatocracy of Wagner, I share +it fully. This business of substituting the theatre for the church, and +teaching philosophy singing, seems ridiculous to me. I am also out of +patience with the wooden dragons, swans, stage fire, thunder and +lightning. + +Although it may sound paradoxical, the fact is that all this scenery is +in the way. I have seen King Lear in Paris, at the Theatre Antoine, +where it was presented with very nearly perfect scenery. When the King +and the fool roamed about the heath in the third act, amid thunder and +lightning, everybody was gazing at the clouds in the flies and watching +for the lightning, or listening to the whistling of the wind; no one +paid any attention to what was said by the characters. + + + + +UNIVERSAL MUSICIANS + + +German music is undoubtedly the most universal music, especially that of +Mozart and Beethoven. It seems as if there were fewer particles of their +native soil imbedded in the works of these two masters than is common +among their countrymen. They bring out in sharp relief the cultural +internationalism of Germany. + +Mozart is an epitome of the grace of the eighteenth century; he is at +once delicate, joyous, serene, gallant, mischievous. He is a courtier of +whatever country one will. Sometimes, when listening to his music, I ask +myself: "Why is it that this, which must be of German origin, seems to +be part of all of us, to have been designed for us all?" + +Beethoven, too, like Mozart, is a man without a country. As the one +manipulates his joyous, soft, serene rhythms, the other throbs and +trembles with obscure meanings and pathetic, heartrending laments, the +source of which lies hidden as at the bottom of some mine. + +He is a Segismund who complains against the gods and against his fate in +a tongue which knows no national accent. A day will come when the +negroes of Timbuktu will listen to Mozart's and Beethoven's music and +feel that it belongs to them, as truly as it ever did to the citizens of +Munich or of Vienna. + + + + +THE FOLK SONG + + +The folk song lies at the opposite pole from universal music. It is +music which smacks most of the soil whereon it has been produced. By its +very nature it is intelligible at all times to all persons in the +locality, if only because music is not an intellectual art; it deals in +rhythms, it does not deal in ideas. But beyond the fact of its +intelligibility, music possesses different attractions for different +people. The folk song preserves to us the very savour of the country in +which we were born; it recalls the air, the climate that we breathed and +knew. When we hear it, it is as if all our ancestors should suddenly +present themselves. I realize that my tastes may be barbaric, but if +there could only be one kind of music, and I were obliged to choose +between the universal and the local, my preference would be wholly for +the latter, which is the popular music. + + + + +ON THE OPTIMISM OF EUNUCHS + + +In a text book designed for the edification of research workers--a +specimen of peculiarly disagreeable tartuffery--the histologist, Ramón y +Cajal, who, as a thinker, has always been an absolute mediocrity, +explains what the young scholar should be, in the same way that the +Constitution of 1812 made it clear what the ideal Spanish citizen should +be. + +So we know now the proper character of the young scholar. He must be +calm, optimistic, serene ... and all this with ten or twelve coppers in +his pocket! + +Some friends inform me that in the Institute for Public Education at +Madrid, where an attempt is made to give due artistic orientation to the +pupils, they have contrived an informal classification of the arts in +the order of their importance; first comes painting; then, music; and, +last, literature. + +Considering carefully what may be the reasons for such a sequence, it +would appear that the purpose must be to deprive the student of any +occasion for becoming pessimistic. Certainly nobody will ever have his +convictions upset by looking at ancient cloths daubed over with linseed +oil, nor by the bum-ta-ra of music. But, to my mind, in a country like +Spain, it is better that our young men should be dissatisfied than that +they should go to the laboratory every day in immaculate blouses, +chatter like proper young gentlemen about El Greco, Cezanne and the +Ninth Symphony, and never have the brains to protest about anything. +Back of all this correctness may be divined the optimism of eunuchs. + + + + +II + +MYSELF, THE WRITER + +TO MY READERS THIRTY YEARS HENCE + + +Among my books there are two distinct classes: Some I have written with +more effort than pleasure, and others I have written with more pleasure +than effort. + +My readers apparently are not aware of this distinction, although it +seems evident to me. Can it be that true feeling is of no value in a +piece of literature, as some of the decadents have thought? Can it be +that enthusiasm, weariness, loathing, distress and ennui never transpire +through the pages of a book? Indubitably none of them transpire unless +the reader enters into the spirit of the work. And, in general, the +reader does not enter into the spirit of my books. I cherish a hope +which, perhaps, may be chimerical and ridiculous, that the Spanish +reader thirty or forty years hence, who takes up my books, whose +sensibilities, it may be, have been a little less hardened into +formalism than those of the reader of today, will both appreciate and +dislike me more intelligently. + + + + +YOUTHFUL WRITINGS + + +As I turn over the pages of my books, now already growing old, I receive +the impression that, like a somnambulist, I have frequently been walking +close to the cornice of a roof, entirely unconsciously, but in imminent +danger of falling off; again, it seems to me that I have been travelling +paths beset with thorns, which have played havoc with my skin. + +I have maintained myself rather clumsily for the most part, yet at times +not without a certain degree of skill. + +All my books are youthful books; they express turbulence; perhaps their +youth is a youth which is lacking in force and vigour, but nevertheless, +they are youthful books. + +Among thorns and brambles there lies concealed a tiny Fountain of Youth +in my soul. You may say that its waters are bitter and saline, instead +of being crystalline and clear. And it is true. Yet the fountain flows +on, and bubbles, and gurgles and splashes into foam. That is enough for +me. I do not wish to dam it up, but to let the water run and remove +itself. I have always felt kindly toward anything that removes itself. + + + + +THE BEGINNING AND END OF THE JOURNEY + + +I formerly considered myself a young man of protoplasmic capabilities, +and I entertained very little enthusiasm for form until after I had +talked with some Russians. Since then I have realized that I was more +clean cut, more Latin, and a great deal older than I had supposed. + +"I see that you belong to the _ancient régime_," a Frenchwoman remarked +to me in Rome. + +"I? Impossible!" + +"Yes," she insisted. "You are a conversationalist. You are not an +elegant, sprucely dressed abbé; you are an abbé who is cynical and ill- +natured, who likes to fancy himself a savage amid the comfortable +surroundings of the drawing-room." + +The Frenchwoman's observation set me to thinking. + +Can it be that I am hovering in the vicinity of Apollo's Temple without +realizing it? + +Possibly my literary life has been merely a journey from the Valley of +Dionysus to the Temple of Apollo. Now somebody will tell me that art +begins only on the bottom step of the Temple of Apollo. And it is true. +But there is where I stop--on the bottom step. + + + + +MELLOWNESS AND THE CRITICAL SENSE + + +Whenever my artistic conscience reproaches me, I always think: If I were +to undertake to write these books today, now that I am aware of their +defects, I should never write them. Nevertheless, I continue to write +others with the same old faults. Shall I ever attain that mellowness of +soul in which all the vividness of impression remains, yet in which it +has become possible to perfect the expression? I fear not. Most likely, +when I reach the stage of refining the expression, I shall have nothing +to say, and so remain silent. + + + + +SENSIBILITY + + +In my books, as in most that are modern, there is an indefinable +resentment against life and against society. + +Resentment against life is of far more ancient standing than resentment +against society. + +The former has always been a commonplace among philosophers. + +Life is absurd, life is difficult of direction, life is a disease, the +better part of the philosophers have told us. + +When man turned his animosity against society, it became the fashion to +exalt life. Life is good; man, naturally, is magnanimous, it was said. +Society has made him bad. + +I am convinced that life is neither good nor bad; it is like Nature, +necessary. And society is neither good nor bad. It is bad for the man +who is endowed with a sensibility which is excessive for his age; it is +good for a man who finds himself in harmony with his surroundings. + +A negro will walk naked through a forest in which every drop of water is +impregnated with millions of paludal germs, which teems with insects, +the bites of which produce malignant abcesses, and where the temperature +reaches fifty degrees Centigrade in the shade. + +A European, accustomed to the sheltered life of the city, when brought +face to face with such a tropical climate, without means of protection, +would die. + +Man needs to be endowed with a sensibility which is proper to his epoch +and his environment; if he has less, his life will be merely that of a +child; if he has just the right measure, it will be the life of an +adult; if he has more, he will be an invalid. + + + + +ON DEVOURING ONE'S OWN GOD + + +It is said that the philosopher Averroes was wont to remark: "What a +sect these Christians are, who devour their own God!" + +It would seem that this divine alimentation ought to make men themselves +divine. But it does not; our theophagists are human--they are only too +human, as Nietzsche would have it. + +There can be no doubt but that the Southern European races are the most +vivacious, the most energetic, as well as the toughest in the world. +They have produced all the great conquerors. Christianity, when it found +it necessary to overcome them, innoculated them with its Semitic virus, +but this virus has not only failed to make them weaker, but, on the +contrary, it has made them stronger. They appropriated what suited them +in the Asiatic mentality, and proceeded to make a weapon of their +religion. These cruel Levantine races, thanks only to Teutonic +penetration, are at last submitting to a softening process, and they +will become completely softened upon the establishment in Europe of the +domination of the Slav. + +Meanwhile they maintain their sway in their own countries. + +"They are quite inoffensive," we are told. + +Nonsense! They would burn Giordano Bruno as willingly now as they did in +the old days. + +There is a great deal of fire remaining in the hearts of our +theophagists. + + + + +ANARCHISM + + +In an article appearing in _Hermes_, a magazine published in +Bilbao, Salaverría assumes that I have been cured of my anarchism, and +that I persist in a negative and anarchistic attitude in order to retain +my literary clientele; which is not the fact. In the first place, I can +scarcely be said to have a clientele; in the second place, a small +following of conservatives is much more lucrative than a large one of +anarchists. It is true that I am withdrawing myself from the festivals +of Pan and the cult of Dionysus, but I am not substituting for them, +either outwardly or inwardly, the worship of Yahveh or of Moloch. I have +no liking for Semitic traditions--none and none whatever! I am not able, +like Salaverría, to admire the rich simply because they are rich, nor +people in high stations because they happen to occupy them. + +Salaverría assumes that I have a secret admiration for grand society, +generals, magistrates, wealthy gentlemen from America, and Argentines +who shout out: "How perfectly splendid!" I have the same affection for +these things that I have for the cows which clutter up the road in front +of my house. I would not be Fouquier-Tinville to the former nor butcher +to the latter; but my affection then has reached its limit. Even when I +find something worthy of admiration, my inclination is toward the small. +I prefer the Boboli Gardens to those of Versailles, and Venetian or +Florentine history to that of India. + +Great states, great captains, great kings, great gods, leave me cold. +They are all for peoples who dwell on vast plains which are crossed by +mighty rivers, for the Egyptians, for the Chinese, for the Hindus, for +the Germans, for the French. + +We Europeans who are of the region of the Pyrenees and the Alps, love +small states, small rivers, and small gods, whom we may address +familiarly. + +Salaverría is also mistaken when he says that I am afraid of change. I +am not afraid. My nature is to change. I am predisposed to develop, to +move from here to there, to reverse my literary and political views if +my feelings or my ideas alter. I avoid no reading except that which is +dull; I shall never retreat from any performance except a vapid one, nor +am I a partisan either of austerity or of consistency. Moreover, I am +not a little dissatisfied with myself, and I would give a great deal to +have the pleasure of turning completely about, if only to prove to +myself that I am capable of a shift of attitude which is sincere. + + + + +NEW PATHS + + +Some months since three friends met together in an old-fashioned +bookshop on the venerable Calle del Olivo--a writer, a printer, and +myself. + +"Fifteen years ago all three of us were anarchists," remarked the +printer. + +"What are we today?" I inquired. + +"We are conservatives," replied the man who wrote. "What are you?" + +"I believe that I have the same ideas I had then." + +"You have not developed if that is so," retorted the writer with a show +of scorn. + +I should like to develop, but into what? How? Where am I to find the +way? + +When sitting beside the chimney, warming your feet by the fire as you +watch the flames, it is easy to imagine that there may be novel walks to +explore in the neighbourhood; but when you come to look at the map you +find that there is nothing new in the whole countryside. + +We are told that ambition means growth. It does not with me. Ortega y +Gasset believes that I am a man who is constitutionally unbribable. I +should not go so far as to say that, but I do say that I do not believe +that I could be bribed in cold blood by the offer of material things. If +Mephistopheles wishes to purchase my soul, he cannot do it with a +decoration or with a title; but if he were to offer me sympathy, and be +a little effusive while he is about it, adding then a touch of +sentiment, I am convinced that he could get away with it quite easily. + + + + +LONGING FOR CHANGE + + +Just as the aim of politicians is to appear constant and consistent, +artists and literary men aspire to change. + +Would that the desire of one were as easy of attainment as that of the +other! + +To change! To develop! To acquire a second personality which shall be +different from the first! This is given only to men of genius and to +saints. Thus Caesar, Luther, and Saint Ignatius each lived two distinct +lives; or, rather, perhaps, it was one life, with sides that were +obverse and reverse. + +The same thing occurs sometimes also among painters. The evolution of El +Greco in painting upsets the whole theory of art. + +There is no instance of a like transformation either in ancient or +modern literature. Some such change has been imputed to Goethe, but I +see nothing more in this author than a short preliminary period of +exalted feeling, followed by a lifetime dominated by study and the +intellect. + +Among other writers there is not even the suggestion of change. +Shakespeare is alike in all his works; Calderón and Cervantes are always +the same, and this is equally true of our modern authors. The first +pages of Dickens, of Tolstoi or of Zola could be inserted among the +last, and nobody would be the wiser. + +Even the erudite rhetorical poets, the Victor Hugos, the Gautiers, and +our Spanish Zorrillas, never get outside of their own rhetoric. + + + + +BAROJA, YOU WILL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING + +(_A Refrain_) + + +"Baroja does not amount to anything, and I presume that he will never +amount to anything," Ortega y Gasset observes in the first issue of the +_Spectator_. + +I have a suspicion myself that I shall never amount to anything. +Everybody who knows me has always thought the same. + +When I first went to school in San Sebastian, at the age of four--and it +has rained a great deal since that day--the teacher, Don León Sánchez y +Calleja, who made a practice of thrashing us with a very stiff pointer +(oh, these hallowed traditions of our ancestors!), looked me over and +said: + +"This boy will prove to be as sulky as his brother. He will never amount +to anything." + +I studied for a time in the Institute of Pamplona with Don Gregorio +Pano, who taught us mathematics; and this old gentleman, who looked like +the Commander in _Don Juan Tenorio_, with his frozen face and his +white beard, remarked to me in his sepulchral voice: + +"You are not going to be an engineer like your father. You will never +amount to anything." + +When I took therapeutics under Don Benito Hernando in San Carlos, Don +Benito planted himself in front of me and said: + +"That smile of yours, that little smile ... it is impertinent. Don't you +come to me with any of your satirical smiles. You will never amount to +anything, unless it is negative and useless." + +I shrugged my shoulders. + +Women who have known me always tell me: "You will never amount to +anything." + +And a friend who was leaving for America volunteered: + +"When I return in twenty or thirty years, I shall find all my +acquaintances situated differently: one will have become rich, another +will have ruined himself, this fellow will have entered the cabinet, +that one will have been swallowed up in a small town; but you will be +exactly what you are today, you will live the same life, and you will +have just two pesetas in your pocket. That is as far as you will get." + +The idea that I shall never amount to anything is now deeply rooted in +my soul. It is evident that I shall never become a deputy, nor an +academician, nor a Knight of Isabella the Catholic, nor a captain of +industry, nor alderman, nor Member of the Council, nor a common cheat, +nor shall I ever possess a good black suit. + +And yet when a man has passed forty, when his belly begins to take on +adipose tissue and he puffs out with ambition, he ought to be something, +to sport a title, to wear a ribbon, to array himself in a black frock +coat and a white waistcoat; but these ambitions are denied to me. The +professors of my childhood and my youth rise up before my eyes like the +ghost of Banquo, and proclaim: "Baroja, you will never amount to +anything." + +When I go down to the seashore, the waves lap my feet and murmur: +"Baroja, you will never amount to anything." The wise owl that perches +at night on our roof at Itzea calls to me: "Baroja, you will never +amount to anything," and even the crows, winging their way across the +sky, incessantly shout at me from above: "Baroja, you will never amount +to anything." + +And I am convinced that I never shall amount to anything. + + + + +THE PATRIOTISM OF DESIRE + + +I may not appear to be a very great patriot, but, nevertheless, I am. +Yet I am unable to make my Spanish or Basque blood an exclusive +criterion for judging the world. If I believe that a better orientation +may be acquired by assuming an international point of view, I do not +hold it improper to cease to feel, momentarily, as a Spaniard or a +Basque. + +In spite of this, a longing for the accomplishment of what shall be for +the greatest good of my country, normally obsesses my mind, but I am +wanting in the patriotism of lying. + +I should like to have Spain the best place in the world, and the Basque +country the best part of Spain. + +The feeling is such a natural and common one that it seems scarcely +worth while to explain it. + +The climate of Touraine or of Tuscany, the Swiss lakes, the Rhine and +its castles, whatever is best in Europe, I would root up, if I had my +say, and set down here between the Pyrenees and the Straits of +Gibraltar. At the same time, I should denationalize Shakespeare, +Dickens, Tolstoi and Dostoievski, making them Spaniards. I should see +that the best laws and the best customs were those of our country. But +wholly apart from this patriotism of desire, lies the reality. What is +to be gained by denying it? To my mind nothing is to be gained. + +There are many to whom the only genuine patriotism is the patriotism of +lying, which in fact is more of a matter of rhetoric than it is of +feeling. + +Our falsifying patriots are always engaged in furious combat with other +equally falsifying internationalists. + +"Nothing but what we have is of any account," cries one party. + +"No, it is what the other fellow has," cries the other. + +Patriotism is telling the truth as to one's country, in a sympathetic +spirit which is guided and informed by a love of that which is best. + +Now some one will say: "Your patriotism, then, is nothing but an +extension of your ego; it is purely utilitarian." + +Absolutely so. But how can there be any other kind of patriotism? + + + + +MY HOME LANDS + + +I have two little countries, which are my homes--the Basque provinces, +and Castile; and by Castile I mean Old Castile. I have, further, two +points of view from which I look out upon the world: one is my home on +the Atlantic; the other is very like a home to me, on the Mediterranean. + +All my literary inspirations spring either from the Basque provinces or +from Castile. I could never write a Gallegan or a Catalan novel. + +I could wish that my readers were all Basques and Castilians. + +Other Spaniards interest me less. Spaniards who live in America, or +Americans, do not interest me at all. + + + + +CRUELTY AND STUPIDITY + + +It appears from an article written by Azorín in connection with a book +of mine, that, to my way of thinking, there are two enormities which are +incredible and intolerable. They are cruelty and stupidity. + +Civilized man has no choice but to despise these manifestations of +primitive, brute existence. + +We may be able to tolerate stupidity and lack of comprehension when they +are simple and wholly natural, but what of an utter obtuseness of +understanding which dresses itself up and becomes rhetorical? Can +anything be more disagreeable? + +When a fly devours the pollen greedily from the pyrethrum, which, as we +know, will prove fatal to him, it becomes clear at once that flies have +no more innate sagacity than men. When we listen to a conservative +orator defending the past with salvos of rhetorical fireworks, we are +overwhelmed by a realization of the complete odiousness of ornamental +stupidity. + +With cruelty it is much the same. The habits of the sphex surprise while +bull fights disgust us. The more cruelty and stupidity are dressed up, +the more hateful they become. + + + + +THE ANTERIOR IMAGE + + +I wrote an article once called, "The Spaniard Fails to Understand." +While I do not say it was good, the idea had some truth in it. It is a +fact that failure to understand is not exclusively a Spanish trait, but +the failing is a human one which is more accentuated among peoples of +backward culture, whose vitality is great. + +Like a child the Spaniard carries an anterior image in his mind, to +which he submits his perceptions. A child is able to recognize a man or +a horse more easily in a toy than in a painting by Raphael or by +Leonardo da Vinci, because the form of the toy adapts itself more +readily to the anterior image which he has in his consciousness. + +It is the same with the Spaniard. Here is one of the causes of his want +of comprehension. One rejects what does not fit in with one's +preconceived scheme of things. + +I once rode to Valencia with two priests who were by no means unknown. +One of them had been in the convent of Loyola at Azpeitia for four +years. We talked about our respective homes; they eulogized the +Valencian plain while I replied that I preferred the mountains. As we +passed some bare, treeless hills such as abound near Chinchilla, one of +them--the one, in fact, who had been at Loyola--remarked to me: + +"This must remind you of your own country." + +I was dumbfounded. How could he identify those arid, parched, glinting +rocks with the Basque landscape, with the humid, green, shaded +countryside of Azpeitia? It was easy to see that the anterior image of a +landscape existing in the mind of that priest, provided only the general +idea of a mountain, and that he was unable to distinguish, as I was, +between a green mountain overgrown with turf and trees, and an arid +hillside of dry rocks. + +An hypothesis explaining the formation of visual ideas has been +formulated by Wundt, which he calls the hypothesis of projection. It +attributes to the retina an innate power of referring its impressions +outward along straight lines, in directions which are determined. + +According to Müller, who has adopted this hypothesis, what we perceive +is our own retina under the category of space, and the size of the +retinal image is the original unit of measurement applied by us to +exterior objects. + +The Spaniard like a child, will have to amplify his retinal image, if he +is ever to amount to anything. He will have to amplify it, and, no +doubt, complicate it also. + + + + +THE TRAGI-COMEDY OF SEX + + +It is very difficult to approach the sex question and to treat it at +once in a clear and dignified manner. And yet, who can deny that it +furnishes the key to the solution of many of the enigmas and obscurities +of psychology? + +Who can question that sex is one of the bases of temperament? + +Nevertheless, the subject may be discussed permissibly in scientific and +very general terms, as by Professor Freud. What is unpardonable is any +attempt to bring it down to the sphere of the practical and concrete. + +I am convinced that the repercussion of the sexual life is felt through +all the phenomena of consciousness. + +According to Freud, an unsatisfied desire produces a series of obscure +movements in consciousness which eat at the soul as electricity is +generated in a storage battery, and this accumulation of psychic energy +must needs produce a disturbance in the nervous system. + +Such nervous disturbances, which are of sexual origin, produced by the +strangulation of desires, shape our mentality. + +What is the proper conduct for a man during the critical years between +the ages of fourteen and twenty-three? He should be chaste, the priests +will say, shutting their eyes with an hypocritical air. He can marry +afterwards and become a father. + +A man who can be chaste without discomfort between fourteen and twenty- +three, is endowed with a most unusual temperament. And it is one which +is not very common at present. As a matter of fact, young men are not +chaste, and cannot be. + +Society, as it is well aware of this, opens a little loophole to +sexuality, which is free from social embarrassment--the loophole of +prostitution. + +As the bee-hive has its workers, society has its prostitutes. + +After a few years of sexual life without the walls, passed in the +surrounding moats of prostitution, the normal man is prepared for +marriage, with its submission to social forms and to standards which are +clearly absurd. + +There is no possibility of escaping this dilemma which has been decreed +by society. + +The alternative is perversion or surrender. + +To a man of means, who has money to spend, surrender is not very +difficult; he has but to follow the formula. Prostitution among the +upper classes does not offend the eye, and it reveals none of the sores +which deface prostitution as it is practised among the poor. Marriage, +too, does not sit heavily upon the rich. With the poor, however, shame +and surrender walk hand in hand. + +To practise the baser forms of prostitution is to elbow all that is most +vile in society, and to sink to its level oneself. Then, to marry +afterwards without adequate means, is a continual act of self-abasement. +It is to be unable to maintain one's convictions, it is to be compelled +to fawn upon one's superiors, and this is more true in Spain than it is +elsewhere, as everything here must be obtained through personal +influence. + +Suppose one does not submit? If you do not submit you are lost. You are +condemned irretrievably to perversions, to debility, to hysteria. + +You will find yourself slinking about the other sex like a famished +wolf, you will live obsessed by lewd ideas, your mind will solace itself +with swindles and cheats wherewith to provide a solution of the riddle +of existence, you will become the mangy sheep that the shepherd sets +apart from the flock. + +Ever since early youth, I have been clearly conscious of this dilemma, +and I have determined and said: "No; I choose the abnormal--give me +hysteria, but submission, never!" + +So derangement and distortion have come to my mind. + +If I could have followed my inclinations freely during those fruitful +years between fifteen and twenty-five, I should have been a serene +person, a little sensual, perhaps, and perhaps a little cynical, but I +should certainly not have become violent. + +The morality of our social system has disturbed and upset me. + +For this reason I hate it cordially, and I vent upon it in full measure, +as best I may, all the spleen I have to give. + +I like at times to disguise this poison under a covering of art. + + + + +THE VEILS OF THE SEXUAL LIFE + + +I am unable to feel any spontaneous enthusiasm for fecundity such as +that which Zola sings. Moreover, I regard the whole pose as a +superstition. I may be a member of an exhausted race,--that is quite +possible,--but between the devotion to our species which is professed by +these would-be re-peoplers of countries, and the purely selfish +preoccupation of the Malthusians, my sympathies are all with the latter. +I see nothing beyond the individual in this sex question--beyond the +individual who finds himself inhibited by sexual morality. + +This question must be faced some day and cleared up, it must be seen +divested of all mystery, of all veils, of all deceit. As the hygiene of +nutrition has been studied openly, in broad daylight, so it must be with +sex hygiene. + +As a matter of fact, the notion of sin, then, that of honour, and, +finally, dread of syphilis and other sexual diseases, rest like a cloud +on the sexual life, and they are jumbled together with all manner of +fantastic and literary fictions. + +Obviously, rigid sexual morality is for the most part nothing more than +the practice of economy in disguise. Let us face this whole problem +frankly. A man has no right to let his life slip by to gratify fools' +follies. We must have regard to what is, with Stendhal. It will be +argued of course that these veils, these subterfuges of the sexual life, +are necessary. No doubt they are to society, but they are not to the +individual. There are those who believe that the interests of the +individual and of society are one, but we, who are defenders of the +individual as against the State, do not think so. + + + + +A LITTLE TALK + + +Myself: I often think I should have been happier if I had been impotent. + +My Hearers: How can you say such a terrible thing? + +Myself: Why not? To a man like me, sex is nothing but a source of +misery, shame and cheap hypocrisy, as it is to most of us who are +obliged to get on without sufficient means under this civilization of +ours. Now you know why I think that I should have been better off if I +had been impotent. + + +UPON THE SUPPOSED MORALITY OF MARRIAGE + +Single life is said to be selfish and detestable. Certainly it is +immoral. But what of marriage? Is it as moral as it is painted? + +I am one who doubts it. + +Marriage, like all other social institutions of consequence, is +surrounded by a whole series of common assumptions that cry out to be +cleared up. + +There is a pompous and solemn side to marriage, and there is a private +museum side. + +Marriage poses as an harmonious general concord in which religion, +society, and nature join. + +But is it anything of the kind? It would appear to be doubtful. If the +sole purpose of marriage is to rear children, a man ought to live with a +woman only until she becomes pregnant, and, after that moment, he ought +not to touch her. But here begins the second part. The woman bears a +baby; the baby is nourished by the mother's milk. The man has no right +to co-habit with his wife during this period either, because it will be +at the risk of depriving the child of its natural source of nutriment. + +In consequence, a man must either co-habit with his wife once in two +years, or else there will be some default in the marriage. + +What is he to do? What is the moral course? Remember that three factors +have combined to impose the marriage. One, the most far-reaching today, +is economic; another, which is also extremely important, is social, and +the third, now rapidly losing its hold, but still not without influence, +is religious. The three forces together attempt to mould nature to their +will. + +Economic pressure and the high cost of living make against the having of +children. They encourage default. + +"How are we to have all these children?" the married couple asks. "How +can we feed and educate them?" + +Social pressure also tends in the same direction. Religious morality, +however, still persists in its idea of sin, although the potency of this +sanction is daily becoming less, even to the clerical eye. + +If nature had a vote, it would surely be cast in favour of polygamy. Man +is forever sexual, and in equal degree, until the verge of decrepitude. +Woman passes through the stages of fecundation, pregnancy, and +lactation. + +There can be no doubt but that the most convenient, the most logical and +the most moral system of sexual intercourse, naturally, is polygamy. + +But the economic subdues the natural. Who proposes to have five wives +when he cannot feed one? + +Society has made man an exclusively social product, and set him apart +from nature. + +What can the husband and wife do, especially when they are poor? Must +they overload themselves with children, and then deliver them up to +poverty and neglect because God has given them, or shall they limit +their number? + +If my opinion is asked, I advise a limit--although it may be artificial +and immoral. + +Marriage presents us with this simple choice: we may either elect the +slow, filthy death of the indigent workingman, of the carabineer who +lives in a shack which teems with children, or else the clean life of +the French, who limit their offspring. + +The middle class everywhere today is accepting the latter alternative. +Marriage is stripping off its morality in the bushes, and it is well +that it should do so. + + + + +THE SOVEREIGN CROWD + + +A strong man may either dominate and subdue the sovereign crowd when he +confronts it, as he would a wild beast, or he may breathe his thoughts +and ideas into it, which is only another form of domination. + +As I am not strong enough to do either, I shun the sovereign masses, so +as not to become too keenly conscious of their collective bestiality and +ill temper. + + + + +THE REMEDY + + +Every man fancies that he has something of the doctor in him, and +considers himself competent to advise some sort of a cure, so I come now +with a remedy for the evils of life. My remedy is constant action. It is +a cure as old as the world, and it may be as useful as any other, and +doubtless it is as futile as all the rest. As a matter of fact, it is no +remedy at all. + +The springs of action lie all within ourselves, and they derive from the +vigour and health which we have inherited from our fathers. The man who +possesses them may draw on them whenever he will, but the man who is +without them can never acquire them, no matter how widely he may seek. + + + + +III + +THE EXTRARADIUS + + +The extraradius of a writer may be said to be made up of his literary +opinions and inclinations. I wish to expose the literary cell from the +nucleus out and to unfold it, instead of proceeding in from the +covering. + +The term may seem pedantic and histological, but it has the attraction +to my mind of a reminiscence of student days. + + + + +RHETORIC AND ANTI-RHETORIC + + +If I were to formulate my opinions upon style, I should say: "Imitations +of other men's styles are bad, but a man's own style is good." + +There is a store of common literary finery, almost all of which is in +constant use and has become familiar. + +When a writer lays hands on any of this finery spontaneously, he makes +it his own, and the familiar flower blossoms as it does in Nature. + +When an author's inspiration does not proceed from within out, but +rather from without in, then he becomes at once a bad rhetorician. + +I am one of those writers who employ the least possible amount of this +common store of rhetoric. There are various reasons for my being anti- +rhetorical. In the first place I do not believe that the pages of a bad +writer can be improved by following general rules; if they do gain in +one respect, they lose inevitably in another. + +So much for one reason; but I have others. + +Languages display a tendency to follow established forms. Thus Spanish +tends toward Castilian. But why should I, a Basque, who never hears +Castilian spoken in my daily life in the accents of Avila or of Toledo, +endeavour to imitate it? Why should I cease to be a Basque in order to +appear Castilian, when I am not? Not that I cherish sectional pride, far +from it; but every man should be what he is, and if he can be content +with what he is, let him be held fortunate. + +For this reason, among others, I reject Castilian turns and idioms when +they suggest themselves to my mind. Thus if it occurs to me to write +something that is distinctively Castilian, I cast about for a phrase by +means of which I may express myself in what to me is a more natural way, +without suggestion of our traditional literature. + +On the other hand, if the pure rhetoricians, of the national school, who +are _castizo_--the Mariano de Cavias, the Ricardo Leóns--should +happen to write something simply, logically and with modern directness, +they would cast about immediately for a roundabout way of saying it, +which might appear elaborate and out of date. + + + + +THE RHYTHM OF STYLE + + +There are persons who imagine that I am ignorant of the three or four +elementary rules of good writing, which everybody knows, while others +believe that I am unacquainted with syntax. Señor Bonilla y San Martín +has conducted a search through my books for deficiencies, and has +discovered that in one place I write a sentence in such and such +fashion, and that in another I write something else in another, while in +a third I compound a certain word falsely. + +With respect to the general subject of structural usage which he raises, +it would be easy to cite ample precedent among our classic authors; with +respect to the word _misticidad_ occurring in one of my books, I +have put it into the mouth of a foreigner. The faults brought to light +by Señor Bonilla are not very serious. But what of it? Suppose they +were? + +An intelligent friend once said to me: + +"I don't know what is lacking in your style; I find it acrid." I feel +that this criticism is the most apt that has yet been made. + +My difficulty in writing Castilian does not arise from any deficiency in +grammar nor any want of syntax. I fail in measure, in rhythm of style, +and this shocks those who open my books for the first time. They note +that there is something about them that does not sound right, which is +due to the fact that there is a manner of respiration in them, a system +of pauses, which is not traditionally Castilian. + +I should insist upon the point at greater length, were it not that the +subject of style is cluttered up with such a mass of preconceptions, +that it would be necessary to redefine our terminology, and then, after +all, perhaps we should not understand one another. Men have an idea that +they are thinking when they operate the mechanism of language which they +have at command. When somebody makes the joints of language creak, they +say: "He does not know how to manage it." Certainly he does know how to +manage it. Anybody can manage a platitude. The truth is simply this: the +individual writer endeavours to make of language a cloak to fit his +form, while, contrarywise, the purists attempt to mould their bodies +till they fit the cloak. + + + + +RHETORIC OF THE MINOR KEY + + +Persons to whom my style is not entirely distasteful, sometimes ask: + +"Why use the short sentence when it deprives the period of eloquence and +rotundity?" + +"Because I do not desire eloquence or rotundity," I reply. "Furthermore, +I avoid them." The vast majority of Spanish purists are convinced that +the only possible rhetoric is the rhetoric of the major key. This, for +example, is the rhetoric of Castelar and Costa, the rhetoric which +Ricardo León and Salvador Rueda manipulate today, as it has been +inherited from the Romans. Its purpose is to impart solemnity to +everything, to that which already has it by right of nature, and to that +which has it not. This rhetoric of the major key marches with stately, +academic tread. At great, historic moments, no doubt it is very well, +but in the long run, in incessant parade, it is one of the most deadly +soporifics in literature; it destroys variety, it is fatal to subtlety, +to nice transitions, to detail, and it throws the uniformity of the +copybook over everything. + +On the other hand, the rhetoric of the minor key, which seems poor at +first blush, soon reveals itself to be more attractive. It moves with a +livelier, more life-like rhythm; it is less bombastic. This rhetoric +implies continence and basic economy of effort; it is like an agile man, +lightly clothed and free of motion. + +To the extent of my ability I always avoid the rhetoric of the major +key, which is assumed as the only proper style, the very moment that one +sits down to write Castilian. I should like, of course, to rise to the +heights of solemnity now and then, but very seldom. + +"Then what you seek," I am told, "is a familiar style like that of +Mesonero Romanos, Trueba and Pereda?" + +No, I am not attracted by that either. + +The familiar, rude, vulgar manner reminds me of a worthy bourgeois +family at the dinner table. There sits the husband in his shirt sleeves, +while the wife's hair is at loose ends and she is dirty besides, and all +the children are in rags. + +I take it that one may be simple and sincere without either affectation +or vulgarity. It is well to be a little neutral, perhaps, a little grey +for the most part, so that upon occasion the more delicate hues may +stand out clearly, while a rhythm may be employed to advantage which is +in harmony with actual life, which is light and varied, and innocent of +striving after solemnity. + +A modern poet, in my opinion, has illustrated this rhetoric of the minor +key to perfection. + +He is Paul Verlaine. + +A style like Verlaine's, which is non-sequent, macerated, free, is +indispensable to any mastery of the rhetoric of the minor key. This, to +me, has always been my literary ideal. + + + + +THE VALUE OF MY IDEAS + + +From time to time, my friend Azorín attempts to analyse my ideas. I do +not pretend to be in the secret of the scales, as such an assumption +upon my part would be ridiculous. As the pilot takes advantage of a +favourable wind, and if it does not blow, of one that is unfavourable, I +do the same. The meteorologist is able to tell with mathematical +accuracy in his laboratory, after a glance at his instruments, not only +the direction of the prevailing wind, but the atmospheric pressure and +the degree of humidity as well. I am able only, however, to say with the +pilot: "I sail this way," and then make head as best I may. + + + + +GENIUS AND ADMIRATION + + +I have no faith in the contention of the Lombrosians that genius is akin +to insanity, neither do I think that genius is an infinite capacity for +taking pains. Lombroso, for that matter, is as old-fashioned today as a +hoop skirt. + +Genius partakes of the miraculous. If some one should tell me that a +stick had been transformed into a snake by a miracle, naturally I should +not believe it; but if I should be asked whether there was not something +miraculous in the very existence of a stick or of a snake, I should be +constrained to acknowledge the miracle. + +When I read the lives of the philosophers in Diogenes Laertius, I arrive +at the conclusion that Epicurus, Zeno, Diogenes, Protagoras and the +others were nothing more than men who had common sense. Clearly, as a +corollary, I am obliged to conclude that the people we meet nowadays +upon the street, whether they wear gowns, uniforms or blouses, are mere +animals masquerading in human shape. + +Contradicting the assumption that the great men of antiquity were only +ordinary normal beings, we must concede the fact that most extraordinary +conditions must have existed and, indeed, have been pre-exquisite, +before a Greece could have arisen in antiquity, or an Athens in Greece, +or a man such as Plato in Athens. + +By very nature, the sources of admiration are as mysterious to my mind +as the roots of genius. Do we admire what we understand, or what we do +not understand? Admiration is of two kinds, of which the more common +proceeds from wonder at something which we do not understand. There is, +however, an admiration which goes with understanding. + +Edgar Poe composed several stories, of which _The Goldbug_ is one, +in which an impenetrable enigma is first presented, to be solved +afterwards as by a talisman; but, then, a lesson in cryptography ensues, +wherein the talisman is explained away, and the miraculous gives place +to the reasoning faculties of a mind of unusual power. + +He has done something very similar in his poem, _The Raven_, where +the poem is followed by an analysis of its gestation, which is called +_The Philosophy of Composition_. Would it be more remarkable to +write _The Raven_ by inspiration, or to write it through conscious +skill? To find the hidden treasure through the talisman of _The +Goldbug_, or through the possession of analytical faculties such as +those of the protagonist of Poe's tale? + +Much consideration will lead to the conclusion that one process is as +marvellous as the other. + +It may be said that there is nothing miraculous in nature, and it may be +said that it is all miraculous. + + + + +MY LITERARY AND ARTISTIC INCLINATIONS + + +Generally speaking, I neither understand old books very well, nor do I +care for them--I have been able to read only Shakespeare, and perhaps +one or two others, with the interest with which I approach modern +writers. + +It has sometimes seemed to me that the unreadableness of the older +authors might be made the foundation of a philosophic system. Yet I +have met with some surprises. + +One was that I enjoyed the _Odyssey_. + +"Am I a hypocrite?" I asked myself. + +I do not find old painters to be as incompatible as old authors. On the +contrary, my experience has been that they are the reverse. I greatly +prefer a canvas by Botticelli, Mantegna, El Greco or Velázquez to a +modern picture. + +The only famous painter of the past for whom I have entertained an +antipathy, is Raphael; yet, when I was in Rome and saw the frescos in +the Vatican, I was obliged again to ask myself if my attitude was a +pose, because they struck me frankly as admirable. + +I do not pretend to taste, but I am sincere; nor do I endeavour to be +consistent. Consistency does not interest me. + +The only consistency possible is a consistency which comes from without, +which proceeds from fear of public opinion, and anything of this sort +appears to me to be contemptible. + +Not to change because of what others may think, is one of the most +abject forms of slavery. + +Let us change all we can. My ideal is continual change--change of life, +change of home, of food, and even of skin. + + + + +MY LIBRARY + + +Among the things that I missed most as a student, was a small library. +If I had had one, I believe I should have dipped more deeply into books +and into life as well; but it was not given me. During the period which +is most fruitful for the maturing of the mind, that is, during the years +from twelve to twenty, I lived by turns in six or seven cities, and as +it was impossible to travel about with books, I never retained any. + +A lack of books was the occasion of my failure to form the habit of re- +reading, of tasting again and again and of relishing what I read, and +also of making notes in the margin. + +Nearly all authors who own a small library, in which the books are +properly arranged, and nicely annotated, become famous. + +I am not sentimentalizing about stolid, brazen note-taking, such as that +with which the gentlemen of the Ateneo debase their books, because that +merely indicates barbarous lack of culture and an obtuseness which is +Kabyline. + +Having had no library in my youth, I have never possessed the old +favourites that everybody carries in his pocket into the country, and +reads over and over until he knows them by heart. + +I have looked in and out of books as travellers do in and out of inns, +not stopping long in any of them. I am very sorry but it is too late now +for the loss to be repaired. + + + + +ON BEING A GENTLEMAN + + +Viewed from without, I seem to impress some as a crass, crabbed person, +who has very little ability, while others regard me as an unhealthy, +decadent writer. Then Azorín has said of me that I am a literary +aristocrat, a fine and comprehensive mind. + +I should accept Azorín's opinion very gladly, but personality needs to +be hammered severely in literature before it leaves its slag. Like metal +which is removed from the furnace after casting and placed under the +hammer, I would offer my works to be put to the test, to be beaten by +all hammers. + +If anything were left, I should treasure it then lovingly; if nothing +were left, we should still pick up some fragments of life. + +I always listen to the opinions of the non-literary concerning my books +with the greatest interest. My cousin, Justo Goñi, used to express his +opinion without circumlocution. He always carried off my books as they +appeared, and then, a long time after, would give his opinion. + +Of _The Way of Perfection_ he said: + +"Good, yes, very good; but it is so tiresome." + +I realized that there was some truth in his view. + +When he read the three novels to which I had given the general title, +_The Struggle for Life_, he stopped me on the Calle de Alcalá one +day and said: + +"You have not convinced me." + +"How so?" + +"Your hero is a man of the people, but he is falsified. He is just like +you are; you can never be anything but a gentleman." + +This gentility with which my cousin reproached me, and without doubt he +was correct, is common to nearly all Spanish writers. + +There are no Spaniards at present, and there never have been any at any +other time, who write out of the Spanish soul, out of the hearts of the +people. Even Dicenta did not. His _Juan José_ is not a workingman, +but a young gentleman. He has nothing of the workingman about him beyond +the label, the clothes, and such externals. + +Galdós, for example, can make the common people talk; Azorín can portray +the villages of Castile, set on their arid heights, against backgrounds +of blue skies; Blasco Ibáñez can paint the life of the Valencians in +vivid colours with a prodigality that carries with it the taint of the +cheap, but none of them has penetrated into the popular soul. That would +require a great poet, and we have none. + + + + +GIVING OFFENCE + + +I have the name of being aggressive, but, as a matter of fact, I have +scarcely ever attacked any one personally. + +Many hold a radical opinion to be an insult. + +In an article in _La Lectura_, Ortega y Gasset illustrates my +propensity to become offensive by recalling that as we left the Ateneo +together one afternoon, we encountered a blind man on the Calle del +Prado, singing a _jota_, whereupon I remarked: "An unspeakable +song!" + +Admitted. It is a fact, but I fail to see any cause of offence. It is +only another way of saying more forcefully: "I do not like it, it does +not please me," or what you will. + +I have often been surprised to find, after expressing an opinion, that I +have been insulted bitterly in reply. + +At the outset of my literary career, Azorín and I shared the ill will of +everybody. + +When Maeztu, Azorín, Carlos del Rio and myself edited a modest magazine, +by the name of _Juventud_, Azorín and I were the ones principally +to be insulted. The experience was repeated later when we were both +associated with _El Globo_. + +Azorín, perhaps, was attacked and insulted more frequently, so that I +was often in a position to act as his champion. + +Some years ago I published an article in the _Nuevo Mundo_, in +which I considered Vázquez Mella and his refutation of the Kantian +philosophy, dwelling especially upon his seventeenth mathematical proof +of the existence of God. The thing was a burlesque, but a conservative +paper took issue with me, called me an atheist, a plagiarist, a drunkard +and an ass. As for being an atheist, I did not take that as an insult, +but as an honour. + +Upon another occasion, I published an article about Spanish women, with +particular reference to Basque women, in which I maintained that they +sacrificed natural kindliness and sympathy on the altars of honour and +religion, whereupon the Daughters of Mary of San Sebastian made answer, +charging that I was a degenerate son of their city, who had robbed them +of their honour, which was absolutely contrary to the fact. In passing, +they suggested to the editor of the _Nuevo Mundo_ that he should not +permit me to write again for the magazine. + +I wrote an article once dealing with Maceo and Cuba, whereupon a +journalist from those parts jumped up and called me a fat Basque ox. + +The Catalans have also obliged me with some choice insults, which I have +found engaging. When I lectured in Barcelona in the Casa del Pueblo, +_La Veu de Catalunya_ undertook to report the affair, picturing me +as talking platitudes before an audience of professional bomb throwers +and dynamiters, and experts with the Browning gun. + +Naturally, I was enchanted. + +Recently, when writing for the review _España_, I had a similar +experience, which reminded me of my connection with the smaller +periodicals of fifteen years ago. Some gentlemen, mostly natives of the +provinces, approached the editor, Ortega y Gasset, with the information +that I was not a fit person to contribute to a serious magazine, as what +I wrote was not so, while my name would ruin the sale of the weekly. + +These pious souls and good Christians imagined that I might need that +work in order to earn my living, so in the odour of sanctity they did +whatever lay in their power to deprive me of my means of support. Oh, +noble souls! Oh, ye of great heart! I salute you from a safe distance, +and wish you the most uncomfortable beds in the most intolerable wards +set apart for scurvy patients, in any hospital of your choosing, +throughout the world. + + + + +THIRST FOR GLORY + + +Fame, success, popularity, the illusion of being known, admired and +esteemed, appeal in different ways to authors. To Salvador Rueda, glory +is a triumphant entrance into Tegucigalpa, where he is taken to the +Spanish Casino, and crowned with a crown of real laurel. To Unamuno, +glory is the assurance that people will be interested in him at least a +thousand years after he is dead. And to others the only glory worth +talking about is that courted by the French writer, Rabbe, who busied +himself in Spain with la _gloire argent comptant_. Some yearn for a +large stage with pennons and salvos and banners, while others are +content with a smaller scene. + +Ortega y Gasset says that to me glory reduces itself to the proportions +of an agreeable dinner, with good talk across the table. + +And he is right. To mingle with pleasant, intelligent, cordial persons +is one of the more alluring sorts of fame. + +There is something seductive and ingratiating about table talk when it +is spirited. A luxurious dining room, seating eight or ten guests, of +whom three or four are pretty women, one of whom should be a foreigner; +as many men, none of them aristocrats--generally speaking, aristocrats +are disagreeable--nor shall we admit artists, for they are in the same +class as the aristocrats; one's neighbour, perhaps, is a banker, or a +Jew of aquiline feature, and then the talk touches on life and on +politics, relieved with a little gallantry toward the ladies, from time +to time allowing to each his brief opportunity to shine--all this, +beyond doubt, is most agreeable. + +I like, too, to spend an afternoon conversing with a number of ladies in +a comfortable drawing room, which is well heated. I visualize the +various rewards which are meted out by fame as being housed invariably +under a good roof. What is not intimate, does not appeal to me. + +I have often seen Guimerá in a café on the Rambla in Barcelona, drinking +coffee at a table, alone and forlorn, in the midst of a crowd of shop +clerks and commercial travellers. + +"Is that Guimerá?" I asked a Catalan journalist. + +"Yes." + +And then he told me that they had tendered him a tremendous testimonial +some months previously, which had been attended by I don't know how many +hundreds of societies, all marching with their banners. + +I have no very clear idea of just what Guimerá has done, as it is many +years since I have gone to the theatre, but I know that he is considered +in Catalonia to be one of the glories of the country. + +I should not care for an apotheosis, and then find myself left forlorn +and alone to take my coffee afterwards with a horde of clerks. + +I may never write anything that will take the world by storm--most +probably not; but if I do, and it occurs to my fellow townsmen to +organize one of these celebrations with flags, banners and choral +societies, they need not count upon my attendance. They will not be able +to discover me even with the aid of Sherlock Holmes. + +When I am old, I hope to take coffee with pleasant friends, whether it +be in a palace or a porter's lodge. I neither expect nor desire flags, +committees, nor waving banners. + +Laurel does not seduce me, and you cannot do it with bunting. + + + + +ELECTIVE ANTIPATHIES + + +As I have expressed my opinions of other authors sharply, making them +public with the proper disgust, others have done the same with me, which +is but logical and natural, especially in the case of a writer such as +myself, who holds that sympathy and antipathy are of the very essence of +art. + +My opponents and myself differ chiefly in the fact that I am more +cynical than they, and so I disclose my personal animus quite +ingenuously, which my enemies fail to do. + +I hold that there are two kinds of morality; morality of work and +morality of play. The morality of work is an immoral morality, which +teaches us to take advantage of circumstances and to lie. The morality +of play, for the reason that it deals with mere futilities, is finer and +more chivalrous. + +I believe that in literature and in all liberal arts, the morality +should be the morality of play, while my opponents for the most part +hold that the morality of literature should be the morality of work. I +have never, consciously at least, been influenced in my literary +opinions by practical considerations. My ideas may have been capricious, +and they are,--they may even be bad,--but they have no ulterior +practical motive. + +My failure to be practical, together, perhaps, with an undue obtuseness +of perception, brings me face to face with critics of two sorts: one, +esthetic; the other, social. + +My esthetic critics say to me: + +"You have not perfected your style, you have not developed the technique +of your novels. You can scarcely be said to be literate." + +I shrug my shoulders and reply: "Are you sure?" + +My social critics reproach me for my negative and destructive views. I +do not know how to create anything, I am incapable of enthusiasm, I +cannot describe life, and so on. + +This feeling seems logical enough, if it is sincere, if it is honest, +and I accept it as such, and it does not offend me. + +But, as some of my esthetic critics tell me: "You are not an artist, you +do not know how to write," without feeling any deep conviction on the +subject, but rather fearing that perhaps I may be an artist after all +and that at last somebody may come to think so, so among my critics who +pose as defenders of society, there are those who are influenced by +motives which are purely utilitarian. + +I am reminded of servants shouting at a man picking flowers over the +garden wall, or an apple from the orchard as he passes, who raise their +voices as high as possible so as to make their officiousness known. + +They shout so that their masters will hear. + +"How dare that rascal pick flowers from the garden? How dare he defy us +and our masters? Shall a beggar, who is not respectable, tell us that +our laws are not laws, that our honours are not honours, and that we are +a gang of accomplished idiots?" + +Yes, that is just what I tell them, and I shall continue to do so as +long as it is the truth. + +Shout, you lusty louts in gaudy liveries, bark you little lap-dogs, +guard the gates, you government inspectors and carabineers! I shall look +into your garden, which is also my garden, I shall make off with +anything from it that I am able, and I shall say what I please. + + + + +TO A MEMBER OF SEVERAL ACADEMIES + + +A certain Basque writer, one Señor de Loyarte, who is a member of +several academies, and Royal Commissioner of Education, assails me +violently upon social grounds in a book which he has published, although +the attack is veiled as purely literary. + +Señor de Loyarte is soporific as a general rule, but in his polite +sortie against me, he is more amusing than is usual. His malice is so +keen that it very nearly causes him to appear intelligent. + +In literature, Señor de Loyarte--and why should Señor de Loyarte not be +associated with literature--presents the figure of a fat, pale, flabby +boy in a priests' school, skulking under the skirts of a Jesuit Father. + +Señor de Loyarte, like those little, chubby-winged cherubs on sacristy +ceilings, shakes his arrowlet at me and lets fling a _billet doux_. + +Señor de Loyarte says I smack of the cadaver, that I am a plagiarist, an +atheist, anti-religious, anti-patriotic, and more to boot. + +I shall not reply for it may be true. Yet it is also true that Señor de +Loyarte's noble words will please his noble patrons, from whom, perhaps, +he may receive applause even more substantial than the pat on the +shoulder of a Jesuit Father, or the smile of every good Conservative, +who is a defender of the social order. His book is an achievement which +should induct Señor de Loyarte into membership in several more +academies. Señor de Loyarte is already a Corresponding Member of the +Spanish Academy, or of the Academy of History, I am not quite sure +which; but they are all the same. Speaking of history, I should be +interested to know who did first introduce the sponge. + +Señor de Loyarte is destined to be a member, a member of academies all +his life. + + + + +IV + +ADMIRATIONS AND INCOMPATIBILITIES + + +Diogenes Laertius tells us that when Zeno consulted the oracle as to +what he should do in order to attain happiness in life, the deity +replied that he should assimilate himself with the dead. Having +understood, he applied himself exclusively to the study of books. + +Thus speaks Laertius, in the translation of Don José Ortíz y Sanz. I +confess that I should not have understood the oracle. However, without +consulting any oracle, I have devoted myself for some time to reading +books, whether ancient and modern, both out of curiosity and in order to +learn something of life. + + + + +CERVANTES, SHAKESPEARE, MOLIÈRE + + +For a long time, I thought that Shakespeare was a writer who was unique +and different from all others. It seemed to me that the difference +between him and other writers was one of quality rather than of +quantity. I felt that, as a man, Shakespeare was of a different kind of +humanity; but I do not think so now. Shakespeare is no more the +quintessence of the world's literature than Plato and Kant are the +quintessence of universal philosophy. I once admired the philosophy and +characters of the author of Hamlet; when I read him today, what most +impresses me is his rhetoric, and, above all, his high spirit. + +Cervantes is not very sympathetic to me. He is tainted with the perfidy +of the man who has made a pact with the enemy (with the Church, the +aristocracy, with those in power), and then conceals the fact. +Philosophically, in spite of his enthusiasm for the Renaissance, he +appears vulgar and pedestrian to me, although he towers above all his +contemporaries on account of the success of a single invention, that of +Don Quixote and Sancho, which is to literature what the discovery of +Newton was to Physics. + +As for Molière, he is a poor fellow, who never attains the exuberance of +Shakespeare, nor the invention that immortalizes Cervantes. But his +taste is better than Shakespeare's and he is more social, more modern +than Cervantes. The half-century or more that separates the work of +Cervantes from that of Molière, is not sufficient to explain this +modernity. Between the Spain of _Quixote_ and the France of _Le +Bourgeois Gentilhomme_, lies something deeper than time. Descartes +and Gassendi had lived in France, while, on the other hand, the seed of +Saint Ignatius Loyola lay germinating in the Spain of Cervantes. + + + + +THE ENCYCLOPEDISTS + + +A French journalist who visited my house during the summer, remarked: + +"The ideas were great in the French Revolution; it was not the men." I +replied: "I believe that the men of the French Revolution were great, +but not the ideas." + +Of all the philosophical literature of the pre-revolutionary period, +what remains today? + +What books exert influence? In France, excerpts from Montesquieu, +Diderot and Rousseau are still read in the schools, but outside of +France, they are read nowhere. + +Only an extraordinary person would go away for the summer with +Montesquieu's _Esprit des Lois_, or Jean Jacques Rousseau's +_Emile_ in his grip. Montesquieu is demonstration of the fact that +a book cannot live entirely by virtue of correctness of style. + +Of all the writers who enjoyed such fame in the eighteenth century, the +only one who will bear reading today is Voltaire--the Voltaire of the +_Dictionnaire Philosophique_ and of the novels. + +Diderot, whom the French consider a great man, is of no interest +whatsoever to the modern mind, at least to the mind which is not French. +He is almost as dull as Rousseau. _La Religieuse_ is an utterly +false little book. Some years ago I loaned a copy to a young lady who +had just come from a convent. "I have never seen anything like this," +she said to me. "It is a fantasy with no relation to the truth." That +was my idea. _Jacques, le fataliste_ is tiresome; _Le Neveu de +Rameau_ gives at first the impression that it is going to amount to +something, to something powerful such as the _Satiricon_ of +Petronius, or _El Buscón_ of Quevedo; but at the end, it is +nothing. + +The only writer of the pre-revolutionary period who can be read today +with any pleasure--and this, perhaps, is because he does not attempt +anything--is Chamfort. His characters and anecdotes are sufficiently +highly flavoured to defy the action of time. + + + + +THE ROMANTICISTS + + +_Goethe_ + +If a militia of genius should be formed on Parnassus, Goethe would be +the drum-major. He is so great, so majestic, so serene, so full of +talent, so abounding in virtue, and yet, so antipathetic! + +_Chateaubriand_ + +A skin of Lacrymae Christi that has turned sour. At times the good +Viscount drops molasses into the skin to take away the taste of vinegar; +at other times, he drops in more vinegar to take away the sweet taste of +the molasses. He is both moth-eaten and sublime. + +_Victor Hugo_ + +Victor Hugo, the most talented of rhetoricians! Victor Hugo, the most +exquisite of vulgarians! Victor Hugo--mere common sense dressed up as +art. + +_Stendhal_ + +The inventor of a psychological automaton moved by clock work. + +_Balzac_ + +A nightmare, a dream produced by indigestion, a chill, rare acuteness, +equal obtuseness, a delirium of splendours, cheap hardware, of pretence +and bad taste. Because of his ugliness, because of his genius, because +of his immorality, the Danton of printers' ink. + +_Poe_ + +A mysterious sphinx who makes one tremble with lynx-like eyes, the +goldsmith of magical wonders. + +_Dickens_ + +At once a mystic and a sad clown. The Saint Vincent de Paul of the +loosened string, the Saint Francis of Assisi of the London Streets. +Everything is gesticulation, and the gesticulations are ambiguous. When +we think he is going to weep, he laughs; when we think he is going to +laugh, he cries. A remarkable genius who does everything he can to make +himself appear puny, yet who is, beyond doubt, very great. + +_Larra_ [Footnote: A Spanish poet and satirist (1809-37), famous +under the pseudonym of Figaro. He committed suicide. The poet Zorrilla +first came into prominence through some verses read at his tomb.] + +A small, trained tiger shut up in a tiny cage. He has all the tricks of +a cat; he mews like one, he lets you stroke his back, and there are +times when his fiercer instincts show in his eyes. Then you realize that +he is thinking: "How I should love to eat you up!" + + + + +THE NATURALISTS + + +_Flaubert_ + +Flaubert is a heavy-footed animal. It is plain that he is a Norman. All +his work has great specific gravity. He disgusts me. One of Flaubert's +master strokes was the conception of the character of Homais, the +apothecary, in _Madame Bovary_. I cannot see, however, that Homais +is any more stupid than Flaubert himself, and he may even be less so. + +_The Giants_ + +The good Zola, vigorous, dull and perspiring, dubbed his contemporaries, +the French naturalistic novelists, "Giants." What an imagination was +possessed by Zola! + +These "Giants" were none other than the Goncourts, whose insignificance +approached at times imbecility, and in addition, Alphonse Daudet, with +the air of a cheap comedian and an armful of mediocre books--a truly +French diet, feeble, but well seasoned. These poor Giants, of whom Zola +would talk, have become so weak and shrunken with time, that nobody is +able any longer to make them out, even as dwarfs. + + + + +THE SPANISH REALISTS + + +The Spanish realists of the same period are the height of the +disagreeable. The most repugnant of them all is Pereda. When I read him, +I feel as if I were riding on a balky, vicious mule, which proceeds at +an uncomfortable little trot, and then, all of a sudden, cuts stilted +capers like a circus horse. + + + + +THE RUSSIANS + + +_Dostoievski_ + +One hundred years hence Dostoievsky's appearance in literature will be +hailed as one of the most extraordinary events of the nineteenth +century. Among the spiritual fauna of Europe, his place will be that of +the Diplodocus. + +_Tolstoi_ + +A number of years ago I was in the habit of visiting the Ateneo, and I +used to argue there with the habitués, who in general have succeeded in +damming up the channels through which other men receive ideas. + +"To my mind, Tolstoi is a Greek," I observed. "He is serene, clear, his +characters are god-like; all they think of are their love affairs, their +passions. They are never called upon to face the acute problem of +subsistence, which is fundamental with us." + +"Utter nonsense! There is nothing Greek about Tolstoi," declared +everybody. + +Some years later at a celebration in honour of Tolstoi, Anatole France +chanced to remark: "Tolstoi is a Greek." + +When this fell from Anatole France, the obstruction in the channels +through which these gentlemen of the Ateneo received their ideas ceased +for the moment to exist, and they began to believe that, after all, +Tolstoi might very well have something of the Greek in him. + + + + +THE CRITICS + + +_Sainte Beuve_ + +Sainte Beuve writes as if he had always said the last word, as if he +were precisely at the needle of the scales. Yet I feel that this writer +is not as infallible as he thinks. His interest lies in his anecdote, in +his malevolent insinuation, in his bawdry. Beyond these, he has the same +Mediterranean features as the rest of us. + +_Taine_ + +Hippolyte Taine is also one of those persons who think they understand +everything. And there are times when he understands nothing. His +_History of English Literature_, which makes an effort to be broad +and generous, is one of the pettiest, most niggardly histories ever +written anywhere. His articles on Shakespeare, Walter Scott and Dickens +have been fabricated by a French professor, which is to say that they +are among the most wooden productions of the universities of Europe. + +_Ruskin_ + +He impresses me as the Prince of Upstarts, grandiloquent and at the same +time unctuous, a General in a Salvation Army of Art, or a monk who is a +devotee of an esthetic Doctrine which has been drawn up by a Congress of +Tourists. + +_Croce_ + +The esthetic theory of Benedetto Croce has proved another delusion to +me. Rather than an esthetic theory, it is a study of esthetic theories. +As in most Latin productions, the fundamental question is not discussed +therein, but the method of approaching that question. + +_Clarin_ [Footnote: Pseudonym of Leopoldo Alas, a Spanish critic +and novelist of the transition, born in Asturias, whose influence was +widely felt in Spanish letters. He died in 1905.] + +I have a poor opinion of Clarin, although some of my friends regard him +with admiration. As a man, he must have been envious; as a novelist, he +is dull and unhappy; as a critic, I am not certain that he was ever in +the right. + + + + +V + +THE PHILOSOPHERS + + +A thirst for some knowledge of philosophy resulted in consulting Dr. +Letamendi's book on pathology during my student days. I also purchased +the works of Kant, Fichte, and Schopenhauer in the cheap editions which +were published by Zozaya. The first of these that I read was Fichte's +_Science of Knowledge_, of which I understood nothing. It stirred +in me a veritable indignation against both author and translator. Was +philosophy nothing but mystification, as it is assumed to be by artists +and shop clerks? + +Reading _Parerga and Paralipomena_ reconciled me to philosophy. +After that I bought in French _The Critique of Pure Reason_, _The +World as Will and Idea_, and a number of other books. + +How was it that I, who am gifted with but little tenacity of purpose, +mustered up perseverance enough to read difficult books for which I was +without preparation? I do not know, but the fact is that I read them. + +Years after this initiation into philosophy, I began reading the works +of Nietzsche, which impressed me greatly. + +Since then I have picked at this and that in order to renew my +philosophic store, but without success. Some books and authors will not +agree with me, and I have not dared to venture others. I have had a +volume of Hegel's _Logic_ on my table for a long time. I have +looked at it, I have smelled of it, but courage fails me. + +Yet I am attracted to metaphysics more than to any other phase of +philosophy. Political philosophy, sociology and the common sense schools +please me least. Hobbes, Locke, Bentham, Comte and Spencer I have never +liked at all. Even their Utopias, which ought to be amusing, bore me +profoundly, and this has been true from Plato's _Republic_ to +Kropotkin's _Conquest of Bread_ and Wells's _A Modern Utopia_. +Nor could I ever become interested in the pseudo-philosophy of +anarchism. One of the books which have disappointed me the most is Max +Stirner's _Ego and His Own_. + +Psychology is a science which I should like to know. I have therefore +skimmed through the standard works of Wundt and Ziehen. After reading +them, I came to the conclusion that the psychology which I am seeking, +day by day and every day, is not to be found in these treatises. It is +contained rather in the writings of Nietzsche and the novels of +Dostoievski. In the course of time, I may succeed, perhaps, in entering +the more abstract domains of the science. + + + + +VI + +THE HISTORIANS + + +Miss Blimber, the school teacher in Dickens's _Dombey and Son_, +could have died happily had she known Cicero. Even if such a thing were +possible I should have no great desire to know Cicero, but I should be +glad to listen to a lecture by Zeno in the portico of the Poecilé at +Athens, or to Epicurus's meditations in his garden. + +My ignorance of history has prevented me from becoming deeply interested +in Greece, although now this begins to embarrass me, as a curiosity +about and sympathy for classical art stirs within me. If I were a young +man and had the leisure, I might even begin the study of Greek. + +As it is, I feel that there are two Greeces: one of statues and temples, +which is academic and somewhat cold; the other of philosophers and +tragedians, who convey to my mind more of an impression of life and +humanity. + +Apart from the Greek, which I know but fragmentarily, I have no great +admiration for ancient literatures. The _Old Testament_ never +aroused any devotion in me. Except for _Ecclesiastes_ and one or +two of the shorter books, it impresses me as repulsively cruel and +antipathetic. + +Among the Greeks, I have enjoyed Homer's _Odyssey_ and the comedies +of Aristophanes. I have read also Herodotus, Plutarch and Diogenes +Laertius. I am not an admirer of academic, well written books, so I +prefer Diogenes Laertius to Plutarch. Plutarch impresses me as having +composed and arranged his narratives; not so Diogenes Laertius. Plutarch +forces the morality of his personages to the fore; Diogenes gives +details of both the good and the bad in his. Plutarch is solid and +systematic; Diogenes is lighter and lacks system. I prefer Diogenes +Laertius to Plutarch, and if I were especially interested in any of the +illustrious ancients of whom they write, I should vastly prefer the +letters of the men themselves, if any existed, or otherwise the gossip +of their tentmakers or washerwomen, to any lives written of them by +either Diogenes Laertius or Plutarch. + + + + +THE ROMAN HISTORIANS + + +When I turned to the composition of historical novels, I desired to +ascertain if the historical method had been reduced to a system. I read +Lucian's _Instructions for Writing History_, an essay with the same +title, or with a very similar one, by the Abbé Mably, some essays by +Simmel, besides a book by a German professor, Ernst Bernheim, +_Lehrbuch der historischen Methode_. + +I next read and re-read the Roman historians Julius Caesar, Tacitus, +Sallust and Suetonius. + +_Sallust_ + +All these Roman historians no doubt were worthy gentlemen, but they +create an atmosphere of suspicion. When reading them, you suspect that +they are not always telling the whole truth. I read Sallust and feel +that he is lying; he has composed his narrative like a novel. + +In the _Mémorial de Sainte Hélène_, it is recorded that on March +26, 1816, Napoleon read the conspiracy of Catiline in the _Roman +History_. The Emperor observed that he was unable to understand what +Catiline was driving at. No matter how much of a bandit he may have +been, he must have had some object, some social purpose in view. + +The observation of this political genius is one which must occur to all +who read Sallust's book. How could Catiline have secured the support of +the most brilliant men of Rome, among them of Julius Caesar, if his only +plan and object had been to loot and burn Rome? It is not logical. +Evidently Sallust lies, as governmental writers in Spain lie today when +they speak of Lerroux or Ferrer, or as the republican supporters of +Thiers lied in 1871, characterizing the Paris Commune. + +_Tacitus_ + +Tacitus is another great Roman historian who is theatrical, +melodramatic, solemn, full of grand gestures. He also creates an +atmosphere of suspicion, of falsehood. Tacitus has something of the +inquisitor in him, of the fanatic in the cause of virtue. He is a man of +austere moral attitude, which is a pose that a thoroughgoing scamp finds +it easy to assume. + +A temperament such as that of Tacitus is fatal to theatrical peoples +like the Italians, Spaniards, and French of the South. From it springs +that type of Sicilian, Calabrian, and Andalusian politician who is a +great lawyer and an eloquent orator, who declaims publicly in the forum, +and then reaches an understanding privately with bandits and thugs. + +_Suetonius_ + +Suetonius, although deficient both in the pomp and sententiousness of +Tacitus, makes no attempt to compose his story, nor to impart moral +instruction, but tells us what he knows, simply. His _Lives of the +Twelve Caesars_ is the greatest collection of horrors in history. You +leave it with the imagination perturbed, scrutinizing yourself to +discover whether you may not be yourself a hog or a wild beast. +Suetonius gives us an account of men rather than a history of the +politics of emperors, and surely this method is more interesting and +veracious. I place more faith in the anecdotes which grow up about an +historical figure than I do in his laws. + +Polybius is a mixture of scepticism and common sense. He is what Bayle, +Montesquieu and Voltaire will come to be centuries hence. + +As far as Caesar's _Commentaries_ are concerned, in spite of the +fact that they have been manipulated very skilfully, they are one of the +most satisfying and instructive books that can be read. + + + + +MODERN AND CONTEMPORARY HISTORIANS + + +I have very little knowledge of the historians of the Renaissance or of +those prior to the French Revolution. Apart from the chroniclers of +individual exploits, such as López de Ayala, Brantôme, and the others, +they are wholly colourless, and either pseudo-Roman or pseudo-Greek. +Even Machiavelli has a personal, Italian side, which is mocking and +incisive--and this is all that is worth while in him--and he has a +pretentious pseudo-Roman side, which is unspeakably tiresome. + +Generally considered, the more carefully composed and smoothly varnished +the history, the duller it will be found; while the more personal +revelations it contains, the more engaging. Most readers today, for +example, prefer Bernal Díaz del Castillo's _True History of the +Conquest of New Spain_ to Solis's _History of the Conquest of +Mexico_. One is the book of a soldier, who had a share in the deeds +described, and who reveals himself for what he is, with all his +prejudices, vanities and arrogance; the other is a scholar's attempt to +imitate a classic history and to maintain a monotonous music throughout +his paragraphs. + +Practically all the historians who have followed the French Revolution +have individual character, and some have too much of it, as has Carlyle. +They distort their subject until it becomes a pure matter of fantasy, or +mere literature, or sinks even to the level of a family discussion. + +Macaulay's moral pedantry, Thiers's cold and repulsive cretinism, the +melodramatic, gesticulatory effusiveness of Michelet are all typical +styles. + +Historical bazaars _à la_ Cesare Cantù may be put on one side, as +belonging to an inferior genre. They remind me of those great nineteenth +century world's fairs, vast, miscellaneous and exhausting. + +As for the German historians, they are not translated, so I do not know +them. I have read only a few essays of Simmel, which I think extremely +keen, and Stewart Chamberlain's book upon the foundations of the +nineteenth century, which, if the word France were to be substituted for +the word Germany, might easily have been the production of an advanced +nationalist of the _Action Française_. + + + + +VII + +MY FAMILY + +FAMILY MYTHOLOGY + + +The celebrated Vicomte de Chateaubriand, after flaunting an ancestry of +princes and kings in his _Memoires d'outre-tombe_, then turns about +and tells us that he attaches no importance to such matters. + +I shall do the same. I intend to furbish up our family history and +mythology, and then I shall assert that I attach no importance to them. +And, what is more, I shall be telling the truth. + +My researches into the life of Aviraneta [Footnote: A kinsman of Baroja +and protagonist of his series of historical novels under the general +title of _Memoirs of a Man of Action_.] have drawn me of late to +the genealogical field, and I have looked into my family, which is +equivalent to compounding with tradition and even with reaction. + +I have unearthed three family myths: the Goñi myth, the Zornoza myth, +and the Alzate myth. + +The Goñi myth, vouched for by an aunt of mine who died in San Sebastian +at an age of ninety or more, established, according to her, that she was +a descendant of Don Teodosio de Goñi, a Navarrese _caballero_ who +lived in the time of Witiza, and who, after killing his father and +mother at the instigation of the devil, betook himself to Mount Aralar +wearing an iron ring about his neck, and dragging a chain behind him, +thus pilloried to do penance. One day, a terrible dragon appeared before +him during a storm. + +Don Teodosio lifted up his soul unto God, and thereupon the Archangel +Saint Michael revealed himself to him, in his dire extremity, and broke +his chains, in commemoration of which event Don Teodosio caused to be +erected the chapel of San Miguel in Excelsis on Mount Aralar. + +There were those who endeavoured to convince my aunt that in the time of +this supposititious Don Teodosio, which was the early part of the eighth +century, surnames had not come into use in the Basque country, and even, +indeed, that there were at that time no Christians there--in short they +maintained that Don Teodosio was a solar myth; but they were not able to +convince my aunt. She had seen the chapel of San Miguel on Aralar, and +the cave in which the dragon lived, and a document wherein Charles V. +granted to Juan de Goñi the privilege of renaming his house the Palace +of San Miguel, as well as of adding a dragon to his coat of arms, +besides a cross in a red field, and a _broken_ chain. + +The Zornoza myth was handed down through my paternal grandmother of that +name. + +I remember having heard this lady say when I was a child, that her +family might be traced in a direct line to the chancellor Pero López de +Ayala, and, I know not through what lateral branches, also to St. +Francis Xavier. + +My grandmother vouched for the fact that her father had sold the +documents and parchments in which these details were set forth, to a +titled personage from Madrid. + +The Zornozas boast an escutcheon which is embellished with a band, a +number of wolves, and a legend whose import I do not recall. + +Indeed, wolves occur in all the escutcheons of the Baroja, Alzate and +Zornoza families, in so far as I have been able to discover, and I take +them to be more or less authentic. We have wolves passant, wolves +rampant, and wolves mordant. The Goñi escutcheon also displays hearts. +If I become rich, which I do not anticipate, I shall have wolves and +hearts blazoned on the doors of my dazzling automobile, which will not +prevent me from enjoying myself hugely inside of it. + +Turning to the Alzate myth, it too runs back to antiquity and the +primitive struggles of rival families of Navarre and Labourt. The +Alzates have been lords of Vera ever since the fourteenth century. + +The legend of the Alzates of Vera de Navarra relates that one Don +Rodrigo, master of the village in the fifteenth century, fell in love +with a daughter of the house of Urtubi, in France, near Urruña, and +married her. Don Rodrigo went to live in Urtubi and became so thoroughly +gallicized that he never cared to return to Spain, so the people of Vera +banded together, dispossessed him of his honours and dignity, and +sequestrated his lands. + +In the early part of the nineteenth century, my great-grandfather, +Sebastián Ignacio de Alzate, was among those who assembled at Zubieta in +1813 to take part in the rebuilding of San Sebastian, and this great- +grandfather was uncle to Don Eugenio de Aviraneta, a good relative of +mine, protagonist of my latest books. + +St. Francis Xavier, Don Teodosio de Goñi, Pero López de Ayala, +Aviraneta--a saint, a revered worthy, an historian, a conspirator--these +are our family gods. + +Now let me take my stand with Chateaubriand as attaching no importance +to such things. + + + + +OUR HISTORY + + +Baroja is a hamlet in the province of Alava in the district of +Peñacerrada. According to Fernández Guerra, it is an Iberian name +derived from Asiatic Iberia. I believe that I have read in Campión that +the word Baroja is compounded from the Celtic _bar_, meaning +mountain, and the Basque _otza, ocha_ meaning cold. In short, a +cold mountain. + +The district of Peñacerrada, which includes Baroja, is an austere land, +covered with intricate mountain ranges which are clad with trees and +scrub live oaks. + +Hawks abound. In his treatise on falconry, Zúñiga mentions the Bahari +falcon, propagated principally among the mountains of Peñacerrada. + +My ancestors originally called themselves Martínez de Baroja. One Martín +had a son who was known as Martínez. This Martínez (son of Martín) +doubtless left the village, and as there were others of the name +Martínez (sons of Martín), they dubbed him the Martínez of Baroja, or +Martínez de Baroja. + +The Martínez de Barojas lived in that country for many years; they were +hidalgos, Christians of old stock. And there is still a family of the +name in Peñacerrada. + +One Martínez de Baroja, by name Juan, who lived in the village of +Samiano, upon becoming outraged because of an attempt to force him to +pay tribute to the Count of Salinas--in those days a very natural source +of offence--took an appeal in the year 1616 from a ruling of the +Prosecuting Attorney of His Majesty and the Alcaldes and Regidors of the +Earldom of Treviño, and he was sustained by the Chamber of Hidalgos at +Valladolid, which decided in his favour in a decree dated the eighth day +of the month of August, 1619. + +This same hidalgo, Juan Martínez de Baroja, moved the enforcement of +this decree, as is affirmed by a writ of execution which is inscribed on +forty-five leaves of parchment, to which is attached a leaden seal +pendant from a cord of silk, at the end of which may be found the +stipulations of the judgment entered against the Municipality and +Corporation of the Town and Earldom of Treviño and the Village of +Samiano. + +The Martínez de Barojas, despite the fact that they sprang from the land +of the falcon and the hawk, in temper must have been dark, heavy, rough. +They were members of the Brotherhood of San Martín de Peñacerrada, which +apparently was of great account in those regions, besides being regidors +and alcaldes of the Santa Hermandad, a rural police and judicial +organization which extended throughout the country. + +In the eighteenth century, one of the family, my great-grandfather +Rafael, doubtless possessing more initiative, or having more of the hawk +in him than the others, grew tired of ploughing up the earth, and left +the village, turning pharmacist, setting up in 1803 at Oyarzun, in +Guipúzcoa. This Rafael shortened his name and signed himself Rafael de +Baroja. + +Don Rafael must have been a man of modern sympathies, for he bought a +printing press and began to issue pamphlets and even occasional books. + +Evidently Don Rafael was also a man of radical ideas. He published a +newspaper at San Sebastian in 1822 and 1823, which he called _El +Liberal Guipúzcoano_. I have seen only one copy of this, and that was +in the National Library. + +That this newspaper was extremely liberal, may be judged by the articles +that were reprinted from it in _El Espectador_, the Masonic journal +published at Madrid during the period. Don Rafael had connections both +with constitutionalists and members of the Gallic party. There must have +been antecedents of a liberal character in our family, as Don Rafael's +uncle, Don Juan José de Baroja, at first a priest at Pipaon and later at +Vitoria, had been enrolled in the Basque _Sociedad Económica_. + +Don Rafael had two sons, Ignacio Ramón and Pío. They settled in San +Sebastian as printers. Pío was my grandfather. + +My second family name, Nessi, as I have said before, comes out of +Lombardy and the city of Como. + +The Nessis of Como fled from Austrian rule, and came to Spain, probably +peddling mousetraps and _santi boniti barati_. + +One of the Nessis, who survived until a short time ago, always said that +the family had been very comfortably off in Lombardy, where one of his +relatives, Guiseppe Nessi, a doctor, had been professor in the +University of Pavia during the eighteenth century, besides being major +in the Austrian Army. + +As mementos of the Italian branch of the family, I still preserve a few +views of Lake Como in my house, a crude image of the Christ of the +Annunziatta, stamped on cloth, and a volume of a treatise on surgery by +Nessi, which bears the _imprimatur_ of the Inquisition at Venice. + + + + +VIII + +MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD + +SAN SEBASTIAN + + +I was born in San Sebastian on the 28th of December, 1872. So I am not +only a Guipúzcoan but a native of San Sebastian. The former I regard as +an honour, but the latter means very little to me. + +I should prefer to have been born in a mountain hamlet or in a small +coast town, rather than in a city of summer visitors and hotel keepers. + +Garat, who was a most conventional person who lived in Bayonne, always +used to maintain that he came from Ustariz. I might say that I am from +Vera del Bidasoa, but I should not deceive myself. + +There are several reasons why I dislike San Sebastian: + +In the first place, the city is not beautiful, when it might well be so. +It is made up of straight streets which are all alike, together with two +or three monuments that are horrible. The general construction is +miserable and shoddy. Although excellent stone abounds in the +neighbourhood, no one has had the sense to erect anything either noble +or dignified. Cheap houses confront the eye on all sides, whether simple +or pretentious. Whenever the citizens of San Sebastian raise their +hands--and in this they are abetted by the _Madrileños_--they do +something ugly. They have defaced Monte Igueldo already, and now they +are defacing the Castillo. Tomorrow, they will manage somehow to spoil +the sea, the sky, and the air. + +As for the spirit of the city, it is lamentable. There is no interest in +science, art, literature, history, politics, or anything else. All that +the inhabitants think about are the King, the Queen Regent, yachts, bull +fights, and the latest fashions in trousers. + +San Sebastian is a conglomeration of parvenus and upstarts from +Pamplona, Saragossa, Valladolid, Chile and Chuquisaca, who are anxious +to show themselves off. Some do this by walking alongside of the King, +or by taking coffee with a famous bull-fighter, or by bowing to some +aristocrat. The young men of San Sebastian are among the most worthless +in Spain. I have always looked upon them as _infra_ human. + +As for the ladies, many of them might be taken for princesses in summer, +but their winter tertulias are on a level with a porter's lodge where +they play _julepe_. It is a card game, but the word means dose, and +Madame Recamier would have fainted at the mention of it. + +When I observe these parvenus' attempts to shine, I think to myself: +"The ostentation of the freshman year at college. How unfortunate that +some of us have moved on to the doctorate!" + +No one reads in San Sebastian. They run over the society news, and then +drop the paper for fear their brains will begin to smoke. + +This city, imagining itself to be so cultivated, although it really is a +new town, is under the domination of a few Jesuit fathers, who, like +most of the present days sons of Loyola, are coarse, heavy and wholly +lacking in real ability. + +The Jesuit manages the women, which is not a very difficult thing to do, +as he holds the leading strings of the sexual life in his hands. In +addition he influences the men. + +He assists the young who are of good social standing, who belong to +distinguished families, and brings about desirable matches. The poor can +do anything they like. They are at liberty to eat, to get drunk, to do +whatever they will except to read. These unhappy, timid, torpid clerks +and hangers-on imagine they are free men whenever they get drunk. They +do not see that they are like the Redskins, whom the Yankees poisoned +with alcohol so as to hold them in check. + +I inspected a club installed in a house in the older part of the city +some years ago. + +A sign on one door read "Library." When it was opened, I was shown, +laughing, a room filled with bottles. + +"If a Jesuit could see this, he would be in ecstasy," I exclaimed. "Yes, +replacing books with wines and liquors! What a business for the sons of +Saint Ignatius!" + +In spite of all its display, all its tinsel, all its Jesuitism, all its +bad taste, San Sebastian will become an important, dignified city within +a very few years. When that time comes, the author who has been born +there, will not prefer to hail from some hamlet buried in the mountains, +rather than from the capital of Guipúzcoa. But I myself prefer it. I +have no city, and I hold myself to be strictly extra-urban. + + + + +MY PARENTS + + +My father, Serafín Baroja y Zornoza, was a mining engineer, who wrote +books both in Castilian and Basque, and he, too, came from San +Sebastian. My mother's name is Carmen Nessi y Goñi. She was born in +Madrid. + +I should be a very good man. My father was a good man, although he was +capricious and arbitrary, and my mother is a good woman, firmer and more +positive in her manifestations of virtue. Yet, I am not without +reputation for ferocity, which, perhaps, is deserved. + +I do not know why I believed for a long while that I had been born in +the Calle del Puyuelo in San Sebastian, where we once lived. The street +is well within the old town, and truly ugly and forlorn. The mere idea +of it was and is distasteful to me. + +When I complained to my mother about my birthplace and its want of +attractiveness, she replied that I was born in a beautiful house near +the esplanade of La Zurriola, fronting on the Calle de Oquendo, which +belonged to my grandmother and looked out upon the sea, although the +house does so no longer, as a theatre has been erected directly in +front. I am glad that I was born near the sea, because it suggests +freedom and change. + +My paternal grandmother, Doña Concepción Zornoza, was a woman of +positive ideas and somewhat eccentric. She was already old when I knew +her. She had mortgaged several houses which she owned in the city in +order to build the house which was occupied by us in La Zurriola. + +Her plan was to furnish it and rent it to King Amadeo. Before Amadeo +arrived at San Sebastian, however, the Carlist war broke out, and the +monarch of the house of Savoy was compelled to abdicate, and my +grandmother to abandon her plans. + +My earliest recollection is the Carlist attempt to bombard San +Sebastian. It is a memory which has now grown very dim, and what I saw +has been confused with what I have heard. I have a confused recollection +of the bringing in of soldiers on stretchers, and of having peeped over +the wall of a little cemetery near the city, in which corpses were laid +out, still unburied. + +As I have said, my father was a mining engineer, but during the war he +was engaged in teaching natural history at the Institute. I have no idea +how this came about. He was also one of the Liberal volunteers. + +I have a vague idea that one night I was taken from my bed, wrapped up +in a mantle, and carried to a chalet on the Concha, belonging to one +Errazu, who was a relative of my mother's. We lived there for a time in +the cellar of the chalet. + +Three shells, which were known in those days as cucumbers, dropped on +the house, and wrecked the roof, making a great hole in the wall which +separated our garden from the next. + + + + +MONSIGNOR, THE CAT + + +Monsignor was a handsome yellow cat belonging to us while we were living +in the cellar of Señor Errazu's chalet. + +From what I have since learned, his name was a tribute to the +extraordinary reputation enjoyed at that period by Monsignor Simeoni. + +Monsignor--I am referring to the yellow cat--was intelligent. A bell +surmounted the Castillo de la Mota at San Sebastian, by whose side was +stationed a look-out. When the look-out spied the flash of Carlist guns, +he rang the bell, and then the townspeople retired into the doorways and +cellars. + +Monsignor was aware of the relation of the bell to the cannonading, so +when the bell rang, he promptly withdrew into the house, even going so +far sometimes as to creep under the beds. + +My father had friends who were not above going down into our cellar on +such occasions so as better to observe the manoeuvres of the cat. + + + + +TWO LUNATICS + + +After the war, I used to stroll as a boy with my mother and brothers to +the Castillo de la Mota on Sundays. It was truly a beautiful walk, which +will soon be ruined utterly by the citizens of San Sebastian. We looked +out to sea from the Castillo and then we talked with the guard. We often +met a lunatic there, who was in the care of a servant. As soon as he +caught sight of us children, the lunatic was happy at once, but if a +woman came near him, he ran away and flattened himself against the +walls, kicking and crying out: "Blind dog! Blind dog!" + +I remember also having seen a young woman, who was insane, in a great +house which we used to visit in those days at Loyola. She gesticulated +and gazed continually into a deep well, where a half moon of black water +was visible far below. These lunatics, one at the Castillo and the other +in that great house, haunted my imagination as a child. + + + + +THE HAWK + + +My latest recollection of San Sebastian is of a hawk, which we +brought home to our house from the Castillo. + +Some soldiers gave us the hawk when it was still very young, and it grew +up and became accustomed to living indoors. We fed it snails, which it +gulped down as if they were bonbons. + +When it was full-grown, it escaped to the courtyard and attacked our +chickens, to say nothing of all the cats of the neighbourhood. It hid +under the beds during thundershowers. + +When we moved away from San Sebastian, we were obliged to leave the hawk +behind. We carried him up to the Castillo one day, turned him loose, and +off he flew. + + + + +IN MADRID + + +We moved from San Sebastian to Madrid. My father had received an +appointment to the Geographic and Political Institute. We lived on the +Calle Real, just beyond the Glorieta de Bilbao, in a street which is now +a prolongation of the Calle de Fuencarral. + +Opposite our house, there was a piece of high ground, which has not yet +been removed, which went by the name of "_La Era del Mico_," or +"The Monkey Field." Swings and merry-go-rounds were scattered all over +it, so that the diversions of "_La Era del Mico_," together with +the two-wheeled calashes and chaises which were still in use in those +days, and the funerals passing continually through the street, were the +amusements which were provided ready-made for us, as we looked down from +our balcony. + +Two sensational executions took place while we lived here--those of the +regicide Otero and of Oliva--one following closely on the heels of the +other. We heard the _Salve_, or prayer, which is sung by the +prisoners for the criminal awaiting death, hawked about us then on the +streets. + + + + +IN PAMPLONA + + +From Madrid we went to Pamplona. Pamplona was still a curious city +maintaining customs which would have been appropriate to a state of war. +The draw-bridges were raised at night, only one, or perhaps two, gates +being left open, I am not certain which. + +Pamplona proved an amusing place for a small boy. There were the walls +with their glacis, their sentry boxes, their cannon; there were the +gates, the river, the cathedral and the surrounding quarters--all of +them very attractive to us. + +We studied at the Institute and committed all sorts of pranks like the +other students. We played practical jokes in the houses of the canons, +and threw stones at the bishop's palace, many of the windows of which +were already paneless and forlorn. + +We also made wild excursions to the roof of our house and to those of +other houses in the neighbourhood, prying about the garrets and peering +down over the cornices into the courtyards. + +Once we seized a stuffed eagle, cherished by a neighbour, hauled it to +the attic, pulled it through the skylight to the roof, and flung it down +into the street, creating a genuine panic among the innocent passers-by, +when they saw the huge bird drop at their feet. + +One of my most vivid memories of Pamplona is seeing a criminal on his +way to execution passing our house, attired in a round cap and yellow +robe. + +It was one of the sights which has impressed me most. Later in the +afternoon, driven by curiosity, knowing that the man who had been +garroted must be still on the scaffold, I ventured alone to see him, and +remained there examining him closely for a long time. When I returned +home that night, I was unable to sleep because of the impression he had +made. + + + + +DON TIRSO LAREQUI + + +Many other vivid memories of Pamplona remain with me, never to be +forgotten. I remember a lad of our own age who died, leaping from the +wall, and then there were our adventures along the river. + +Another terrible memory was associated with the cathedral. I had begun +my first year of Latin, and was exactly nine at the time. + +We had come out of the Institute, and were watching a funeral. +Afterwards, three or four of the boys, among whom were my brother +Ricardo and myself, entered the cathedral. The echo of the responses was +ringing in my ears and I hummed them, as I wandered about the aisles. + +Suddenly, a black shadow shot from behind one of the confessionals, +pounced upon me and seized me around the neck with both hands, almost +choking me. I was paralyzed with fear. It proved to be a fat, greasy +canon, by name Don Tirso Larequi. + +"What is your name?" he shouted, shaking me vigorously. + +I could not answer because of my fright. + +"What is his name?" the priest demanded of the other boys. + +"His name is Antonio García," replied my brother Ricardo, coolly. + +"Where does he live?" + +"In the Calle de Curia, Number 14." + +There was no such place, of course. + +"I shall see your father at once," shouted the priest, and he rushed out +of the cathedral like a bull. + +My brother and I then made our escape through the cloister. + +This red-faced priest, fat and ferocious, rushing out of the dark to +choke a nine-year-old boy, has always been to me a symbol of the +Catholic religion. + +This experience of my boyhood partly explains my anti-clericalism. I +recall Don Tirso with an undying hate, and were he still alive--I have +no idea whether he is or not--I should not hesitate to climb up to the +roof of his house some dark night, and shout down his chimney in a +cavernous voice: "Don Tirso! You are a damned villain!" + + + + +A VISIONARY ROWDY + + +I was something of a rowdy as a boy and rather quarrelsome. The first +day I went to school in Pamplona, I came out disputing with another boy +of my own age, and we fought in the street until we were separated by a +cobbler and the blows of a leather strap, to which he added kicks. +Later, I foolishly quarrelled and fought whenever the other boys set me +on. In our stone-throwing escapades on the outskirts of the town, I was +always the aggressor, and quite indefatigable. + +When I began to study medicine, I found that my aggressiveness had +departed completely. One day after quarrelling with another student in +the cloisters of San Carlos, I challenged him to fight. When we got out +on the street, it struck me as foolish to goad him to hit me in the eye +or else to land on my nose with his fist, and I slipped off and went +home. I lost my morale as a bully then and there. Although I was a +fighter from infancy, I was also something of a dreamer, and the two +strains scarcely make a harmonious blend. + +Before I was grown, I saw Gisbert's Death of the Comuneros reproduced as +a chromo. For a long, long while, I always seemed to see that picture +hanging in all its variety of colour on the wall before me at night. For +months and months after my vigil with the body of the man who had been +garroted outside of Pamplona, I never entered a dark room but that his +image rose up before me in all its gruesome details. I also passed +through a period of disagreeable dreams. Some time would elapse after I +awoke before I was able to tell where I was, and I was frightened by it. + + + + +SARASATE + + +It was my opinion then, and still is, that a fiesta at Pamplona is among +the most vapid things in the world. + +There was a mixture of incomprehension and culture in Pamplona, that was +truly ridiculous. The people would devote several days to going to bull +fights, and then turn about, when evening came, and welcome Sarasate +with Greek fire. + +A rude and fanatical populace forgot its orgy of blood to acclaim a +violinist. And what a violinist! He was one of the most effeminate and +grotesque individuals in the world. I can see him yet, strutting along +with his long hair, his ample rear, and his shoes with their little +quarter-heels, which gave him the appearance of a fat cook dressed up in +men's clothes for Carnival. + +When Sarasate died he left a number of trinkets which had been presented +to him during his artistic career--mostly match-boxes, cigarette cases, +and the like--which the Town Council of Pamplona has assembled and now +exhibits in glass cases, but which, in the public interest, should be +promptly disposed of at auction. + + + + +ROBINSON CRUSOE AND THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND + + +During my life in Pamplona, my brother Ricardo imparted his enthusiasm +for two stories to me. These were _Robinson Crusoe_ and Jules +Verne's _The Mysterious Island_, or rather, I should say they were +_The Mysterious Island_ and _Robinson Crusoe_, because we +preferred Jules Verne's tale greatly to Defoe's. + +We would dream about desert islands, about manufacturing electric +batteries in the fashion of the engineer Cyrus Harding, and as we were +not very certain of finding any "Granite House" during the course of our +adventures, Ricardo would paint and paint at plans and elevations of +houses which we hoped to construct in its place in those far-off, savage +lands. + +He also made pictures of ships which we took care should be rigged +properly. + +There were two variations of this dream of adventure--one involving a +snow-house, with appropriate episodes such as nocturnal attacks by +bears, wolves, and the like, and then we planned a sea voyage. + +I rebelled a long time at the notion that my life must be like that of +everybody else, but I had no recourse in the end but to capitulate. + + + + +IX + +AS A STUDENT + + +I was never more than commonplace as a student, inclining rather to be +bad than good. I had no great liking for study, and, to tell the truth, +I never entertained any clear idea of what I was studying. + +For example, I never knew what the word preterite meant until years +after completing my course, although I had repeated over and over again +that the preterite, or past perfect, was thus, while the imperfect was +thus, without having any conception that the word preterite meant past-- +that it was a past that was entirely past in the former case, and a past +that was past to a less degree in the latter. + +To complete two years of Latin grammar, two of French, and one of German +without having any conception of what preterite meant, demonstrated one +of two things: either my stupidity was very great, or the system of +instruction deplorable. Naturally, I incline toward the second +alternative. + +While preparing to take my degree in medicine, when I was studying +chemical analysis, I heard a student, who was already a practising +physician, state that zinc was an element which contained a great deal +of hydrogen. When the professor attempted to extricate him from his +difficulty, it became apparent that the future doctor had no idea of +what an element was. My classmate, who doubtless entertained as little +liking for chemistry as I did for grammar, had not been able throughout +his entire course to grasp the definition of an element, as I had never +been able to comprehend what a preterite might be. + +For my part--and I believe that all of us have had the same experience-- +I have never been successful in mastering those subjects which have not +interested me. + +Doubtless, also, my mental development has been slow. + +As for memory, I have always possessed very little. And liking for +study, none whatever. Sacred history, or any other history, Latin, +French, rhetoric and natural history have interested me not at all. The +only subjects for which I cared somewhat, were geometry and physics. + +My college course left me with two or three ideas in my head, whereupon +I applied myself to making ready for my professional career, as one +swallows a bitter dose. + +In my novel, _The Tree of Knowledge_, I have drawn a picture of +myself, in which the psychological features remain unchanged, although I +have altered the hero's environment, as well as his family relations, +together with a number of details. + +Besides the defects with which I have endowed my hero in this book, I +was cursed with an instinctive slothfulness and sluggishness which were +not to be denied. + +People would tell me: "Now is the time for you to study; later on, you +will have leisure to enjoy yourself; and after that will come the time +to make money." + +But I needed all three times in which to do nothing--and I could have +used another three hundred. + + + + +PROFESSORS + + +I have not been fortunate in my professors. It might be urged that I +have not been in a position, being idle and sluggish, to take advantage +of their instruction. I believe, however, that if they had been good +teachers, now that so many years have passed, I should be able to +acknowledge their merits. + +I cannot remember a single teacher who knew how to teach, or who +succeeded in arousing any interest in what he taught, or who had any +comprehension of the student mentality. No one learned how to reason in +the schools of my youth, nor mastered any theory, nor acquired a +practical knowledge of anything. In other words, we learned nothing. + +In medicine, the professors adhered to a system that was the most +foolish imaginable. In the two universities in which I studied, subjects +might be taken only by halves, which would have been ridiculous enough +in any branch, but it was even more preposterous in medicine. Thus, in +pathology, a certain number of intending physicians studied the subject +of infection, while others studied nervous disorders, and yet others the +diseases of the respiratory organs. Nobody studied all three. A plan of +this sort could only have been conceived by Spanish professors, who, it +may be said in general, are the quintessence of vacuity. + +"What difference does it make whether the students learn anything or +not?" every Spanish professor asks himself continually. + +Unamuno says, apropos of the backwardness of Spaniards in the field of +invention: "Other nations can do the inventing." In other words, let +foreigners build up the sciences, so that we may take advantage of them. + +There was one among my professors who considered himself a born teacher +and, moreover, a man of genius, and he was Letamendi. I made clear in my +_Tree of Knowledge_ what I thought of this professor, who was not +destitute, indeed, of a certain talent as an orator and man of letters. +When he wrote, he was rococo, like so many Catalans. Sometimes he would +discourse upon art, especially upon painting, in the class-room, but the +ideas he entertained were preposterous. I recall that he once said that +a mouse and a book were not a fit subject for a painting, but if you +were to write the words _Aristotle's Works_ on the book, and then +set the mouse to gnawing at it, what had originally meant nothing would +immediately become a subject for a picture. Yes, a picture to be hawked +at the street fairs! + +Letamendi was prolixity and puerile ingenuity personified. Yet Letamendi +was no different from all other Spaniards of his day, including even the +most celebrated, such as Castelar, Echegaray and Valera. + +These men read much, they possessed good memories, but I verily believe +that, honestly, they understood nothing. Not one of them had an inkling +of that almost tragic sense of the dignity of culture or of the +obligations which it imposes, which distinguishes the Germans above all +other nationalities. They nearly all revealed an attitude toward science +which would have sat easily upon a smart, sharp-tongued Andalusian young +gentleman. + +I recall a profoundly moving letter by the critic Garve, which is +included in Kant's _Prolegomena_. + +Garve wrote an article upon _The Critique of Pure Reason_, and sent +it to a journal at Göttingen, and the editor of the journal, in malice +and animosity toward Kant, so altered it that it became an attack on the +philosopher, and then published it unsigned. + +Kant invited his anonymous critic to divulge his name, whereupon Garve +wrote to Kant explaining what had taken place, and Kant made a reply. + +It would be difficult to parallel in nobility these two letters, which +were exchanged between a comprehensive intellect such as Garve and one +of the most portentous geniuses of the world, as was Kant. + +They appear to be two travellers, face to face with the mystery of +Nature and the Unknown. No such feeling for learning and culture is to +be met with among our miserably affected Latin mountebanks. + + + + +ANTI-MILITARISM + + +I am an anti-militarist by inheritance. The Basques have never been good +soldiers in the regular army. My great-grandfather Nessi probably fled +from Italy as a deserter. I have always loathed barracks, messes, and +officers profoundly. + +One day, when I was studying therapeutics with Don Benito Hernando, my +brother opened the door of the class-room and motioned for me to come +out. + +I did so, at the cost, by the way, of a furious scene with Don Benito, +who shattered several test tubes in his wrath. + +The cause of my brother's appearance was to advise me that the Alcaldía +del Centro, or Town Council of the Central District, had given notice to +the effect that if I did not present myself for the draft, I was to be +declared in default. As I had already laid before the Board a copy of a +royal decree in which my name was set down as exempt from the draft +because my father had served as a Liberal Volunteer in the late war, and +because, in addition, I was born in the Basque provinces, I had supposed +that the matter had been disposed of. One of those ill-natured, +dictatorial officials who held sway in the offices of the Board, took it +upon himself to rule that the exemption held good only in the Basque +provinces, but not in Madrid, and so, in fact, for the time it proved to +be. In spite of my furious protests, I was compelled to report and +submit to have my measurements taken, and was well nigh upon the point +of being marched off to the barracks. + +"I am no soldier," I thought to myself. "If they insist, I shall run +away." + +I went at once from the Alcaldía to the Ministry and called upon a +Guipúzcoan politician, as my father had previously advised me to do; but +the man was a political mastodon, puffed up with huge pretensions, who, +perhaps, might have been a stevedore in any other country. So he did +nothing. Finally, it occurred to me to go and see the Conde de +Romanones, who had just been appointed Alcalde del Centro, having +jurisdiction over the district. + +When I entered his office, Romanones appeared to be in a jovial frame of +mind. He wore a flower in his button-hole. Two persons were with him, +one of whom was no other than the Secretary of the Board, my enemy. + +I related what had happened to Romanones with great force. The Secretary +then answered. + +"The young man is right," said the Count. "Bring me the roll of the +draft." + +The roll was brought. Romanones took his pen and crossed my name off +altogether. Then he turned to me with a smile: + +"Don't you care to be a soldier?" + +"No, sir." + +"But what are you, a student?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"In which branch?" + +"Medicine." + +"Good! Very good. You may go now." + +I would willingly have been anything to have escaped becoming a soldier, +and so be obliged to live in barracks, eat mess, and parade. + + + + +TO VALENCIA + + +I failed in both June and September during the fourth year of my course, +which was a mere matter of luck, as I neither applied myself more nor +less than in previous years. + +In the meantime my father had been transferred to Valencia, whither it +seemed wise that I should remove to continue my studies. + +I appeared at Valencia in January for a second examination in general +pathology, and failed for the second time. + +I began to consider giving up my intended profession. + +I found that I had lost what little liking I had for it. As I had no +friends in Valencia, I never left the house; I had nowhere to go. I +passed my days stretched out on the roof, or, else, in reading. After +debating long what I should do, and realizing fully that there was no +one obvious plan to pursue, I determined to finish my course, committing +the required subjects mechanically. After adopting this plan, I never +failed once. + +When I came up for graduation, the professors made an effort to put some +obstacles in my way, which, however, were not sufficient to detain me. + +Admitted as a physician, I decided next to study for the doctor's degree +at Madrid. + +My former fellow-students, when they saw that now I was doing nicely, +all exclaimed: + +"How you have changed! Now you pass your examinations." + +"Passing examinations, you know, is a combination, like a gambling +game," I told them. + +"I have found a combination." + + + + +X + +AS A VILLAGE DOCTOR + + +I returned to Burjasot, a small town near Valencia, where my family +lived at the time, a full-fledged doctor. We had a tiny house, besides a +garden containing pear, peach and pomegranate trees. + +I passed some time there very pleasantly. + +My father was a contributor to the _Voz de Guipúzcoa_ of San +Sebastian, so he always received the paper. One day I read--or it may +have been one of the family--that the post of official physician was +vacant in the town of Cestona. + +I decided to apply for the place, and dispatched a letter accompanied by +a copy of my diploma. It turned out that I was the only applicant, and +so the post was awarded to me. + +I set out for Madrid, where I passed the night, and then proceeded to +San Sebastian, receiving a letter from my father upon my arrival, +informing me that there was another physician at Cestona who was +receiving a larger salary than that which had been offered to me, and +recommending that perhaps it would be better not to put in appearance +too soon, until I was better advised as to the prospects. + +I hesitated. + +"In any event," I thought, "I shall learn what the town is like. If I +like it, I shall stay; if not, I shall return to Burjasot." + +I took the diligence, which goes by the name of "La Vascongada," and +made the trip from San Sebastian to Cestona, which proved to be long +enough in all conscience, as we were five or six hours late. I got off +at a posada, or small inn, at Alcorta, to get something to eat. I dined +sumptuously, drank bravely, and, encouraged by the good food, made up my +mind to remain in the village. I talked with the other doctor and with +the alcalde, and soon everything was arranged that had to be arranged. + +As night was coming on, the priest and the doctor recommended that I go +to board at the house of the Sacristana, as she had a room vacant, which +had formerly been occupied by a notary. + + + + +DOLORES, LA SACRISTANA + + +Dolores, my landlady and mistress of the Sacristy, was an agreeable, +exceedingly energetic, exceedingly hard-working woman, who was a +pronounced conservative. + +I have met few women as good as she. In spite of the fact that she soon +discovered that I was not at all religious, she did not hold it against +me, nor did I harbour any resentment against her. + +I often read her the _Añalejo_, or church calendar, which is known +as the _Gallofa_, or beggars' mite, in the northern provinces, in +allusion to the ancient custom of making pilgrimages to Santiago, and I +cooked sugar wafers over the fire with her on the eve of feast days, at +which times her work was especially severe. + +I realized in Cestona my childish ambitions of having a house of my own, +and a dog, which had lain in my mind ever since reading _Robinson +Crusoe_ and _The Mysterious Island_. + +I also had an old horse named Juanillo, which I borrowed from a coachman +in San Sebastian, but I never liked horses. + +The horse seems to me to be a militaristic, antipathetic animal. Neither +Robinson Crusoe nor Cyrus Harding rode horse-back. + +I committed no blunders while I was a village doctor. I had already +grown prudent, and my sceptical temperament was a bar to any great +mistakes. + +I first began to realize that I was a Basque in Cestona, and I recovered +my pride of race there, which I had lost. + + + + +XI + +AS A BAKER + + +I have been asked frequently: "How did you ever come to go into the +baking business?" I shall now proceed to answer the question, although +the story is a long one. + +My mother had an aunt, Juana Nessi, who was a sister of her father's. + +This lady was reasonably attractive when young, and married a rich +gentleman just returned from America, whose name was Don Matías Lacasa. + +Once settled in Madrid, Don Matías, who deemed himself an eagle, when, +in reality, he was a common barnyard rooster, embarked upon a series of +undertakings that failed with truly extraordinary unanimity. About 1870, +a physician from Valencia by the name of Martí, who had visited Vienna, +gave him an account of the bread they make there, and of the yeast they +use to raise it, enlarging upon the profits which lay ready to hand in +that line. + +Don Matías was convinced, and he bought an old house near the Church of +the Descalzas upon Martí's advice. It stood in a street which boasted +only one number--the number 2. I believe the street was, and still is, +called the Calle de la Misericordia. + +Martí set up ovens in the old building by the Church of the Descalzas, +and the business began to yield fabulous profits. Being a devotee of the +life of pleasure, Martí died three or four years after the business had +been established, and Don Matías continued his gallinaceous evolutions +until he was utterly ruined, and had pawned everything he possessed, +remaining at last with the bakery as his only means of support. + +He succeeded in entangling and ruining that, too, before he died. My +aunt then wrote my mother requesting that my brother Ricardo come up to +Madrid. + +My brother remained in Madrid for some time, when he grew tired and +left; then I went, and later we were both there together, making an +effort to improve the business and to push it ahead. Times were bad: +there was no way of pushing ahead. Surely the proverb "Where flour is +lacking, everything goes packing," could never have been applied with +more truth. And we could get no flour. + +When the bakery was just about to do better, the Conde de Romanones, who +was our landlord in those days, notified us that the building was to be +torn down. + +Then our troubles began. We were obliged to move elsewhere, and to +undertake alterations, for which money was indispensable, but we had no +money. In that predicament, we began to speculate upon the Exchange, and +the Exchange proved a kind mother to us; it sustained us until we were +on our feet again. As soon as we had established ourselves upon another +site, we proceeded to lose money, so we withdrew. + +It is not surprising, therefore, that I have always regarded the Stock +Exchange as a philanthropic institution, or that, on the other hand, a +church has always seemed a sombre place in which a black priest leaps +forth from behind a confessional to seize one by the throat in the dark, +and to throttle him. + + + + +MY FATHER'S DISILLUSIONMENT + + +My father was endowed with a due share of the romantic fervour which +distinguished men of his epoch, and set great store by friendship. More +particularly, he was wrapped up in his friends in San Sebastian. + +When we discovered that we were in trouble, before throwing ourselves +into the loving arms of the Bourse, my father spoke to two intimate +friends of his who were from San Sebastian. They made an appointment to +meet me in the Café Suizo. I explained the situation to them, after +which they made me certain propositions, which were so usurious, so +outrageously extortionate, that they took my breath away. They offered +to advance us the money we needed for fifty per cent of the gross +receipts, while we were to meet the running expenses out of our fifty +per cent, receiving no compensation whatever for our services in taking +care of the business. + +I was astonished, and naturally did not accept. The episode was a great +blow to my father. I frequently came face to face with one of our +friends at a later date, but I never bowed to him. He was offended. I +was tempted to approach him and say: "The reason that I do not bow to +you is because I know you are a rascal." + +If either of these friends of ours were alive, I should proceed to +mention their names, but, as they are dead, it will serve no useful +purpose. + + + + +INDUSTRY AND DEMOCRACY + + +The bakery has been brandished against me in literature. + +When I first wrote, it was said: + +"This Baroja is a crusty fellow; naturally, he is a baker." + +A certain picturesque academician, who was also a dramatist, and given +to composing stupendous _quintillas_ and _cuartetas_ in his +day, which, despite their flatness, were received with applause, had the +inspiration to add: + +"All this modernism has been cooked up in Baroja's oven." + +Even the Catalans lost no time in throwing the fact of my being a baker +in my face, although they are a commercial, manufacturing people. +Whether calico is nobler than flour, or flour than calico, I am not +sure, but the subject is one for discussion, as Maeztu would have it. + +I am an eclectic myself on this score. I prefer flour in the shape of +bread with my dinner, but cloth will go further with a man who desires +to appear well in public. + +When I was serving upon the Town Council, an anonymous publication +entitled "Masks Off," printed the following among other gems: "Pío +Baroja is a man of letters who runs a bake-shop." + +A Madrid critic recently declared in an American periodical that I had +two personalities: one that of a writer and the other of a baker. He was +solicitous to let me know later that he intended no harm. + +But if I should say to him: "Mr. So and So" is a writer who is +excellently posted upon the value of cloth, as his father sold dry- +goods, it would appeal to his mind as bad taste. + +Another journalist paid his respects to me some months ago in _El +Parlamentario_, saying I baked rolls, oppressed the people, and +sucked the blood of the workingman. + +It would appear to be more demeaning to own a small factory or a shop, +according to the standards of both literary and non-literary circles, +than it is to accept money from the corruption funds of the Government, +or bounties from the exchequers of foreign Embassies. + +When I hear talk nowadays about the dues of the common people, my +propensity to laugh is so great that I am apprehensive that my end may +be like that of the Greek philosopher in Diogenes Laertius, who died of +laughter because he saw an ass eating figs. + + + + +THE VEXATIONS OF A SMALL TRADESMAN + + +The trials and tribulations of the literary life, its feuds and its +backbitings are a common topic of conversation. However, I have never +experienced anything of the kind in literature. The trouble with +literature is that there is very little money in it, which renders the +writer's existence both mean and precarious. + +Nothing compares for vexation with the life of the petty tradesman, +especially when that tradesman is a baker. Upon occasion, I have +repeated to my friends the series of outrages to which we were obliged +to submit, in particular at the hands of the municipal authorities. + +Sometimes it was through malice, but more often through sheer insentient +imbecility. + +When my brother and I moved to the new site, we drew up a plan and +submitted it to the _Ayuntamiento_, or City Government. A clerk +discovered that no provision had been made for a stall for a mule to run +the kneading machine, and so rejected it. When we learned that our +application had not been granted, we inquired the reason and explained +to the clerk that no provision had been made for the mule because we had +no mule, as our kneading machine was operated by an electric motor. + +"That makes no difference, no difference whatever," replied the clerk +with the importance and obtuseness of the bureaucrat. "The ordinance +requires that there be a stall for one." + +Another of the thousand instances of official barbarity was perpetrated +at our expense while Sánchez de Toca was Alcalde. This gentleman is a +Siamese twin of Maura's when it comes to garrulousness and muddy +thinking, and he had resolved to do away with the distribution of bread +by public delivery, and to license only deliveries by private bakeries. +The order was arbitrary enough, but the manner in which it was put into +effect was a masterpiece. It was reported that plates bearing license +numbers would be given out at the _Ayuntamiento_ to the delivery +men from the bakeries. So we repaired to the _Ayuntamiento_ and +questioned a clerk: + +"Where do they give out the numbers? + +"There are no numbers." + +"What will happen tomorrow then, when we make our deliveries?" + +"How do I know?" + +The next day when the delivery men began their rounds, a policeman +accosted them: + +"Have you your numbers?" + +"No, sir; they are not ready yet." + +"Well, come with me then, to the police station." + +And that was the last of our bread. + +The Caid of Mechuar in Morocco favoured his subjects in some such +fashion several years since, but the Moors, being men of spirit, fell on +him one day, and left him at death's door on a dung heap. Meanwhile, +Sánchez de Toca continues to talk nonsense in these parts, and is +considered by some to be one of the bulwarks of the country. + +I could spin many a tale of tyranny in high places, and almost as many, +no doubt, of the pettinesses of workingmen. But what is the good? Why +stir up my bile? In progressive incarnations, I have now passed through +those of baker and petty tradesman. I am no longer an employer who +exploits the workingman, nor can I see that I ever did so. If I have +exploited workers merely because I employed them, all that was some time +ago. I support myself by my writings now, although it is quite proper to +state that I live on very little. + + + + +XII + +AS A WRITER + + +My pre-literary career was three-fold: I was a student for eight years, +during two a village doctor, and for six more a baker. + +These having elapsed, being already close upon thirty, I began to write. + +My new course was a wise one. It was the best thing that I could have +done; anything else would have annoyed me more and have pleased me less. +I have enjoyed writing, and I have made some money, although not much, +yet it has been sufficient to enable me to travel, which otherwise I +should not have been able to do. + +The first considerable sum which I received was upon the publication of +my novel _The Mayorazgo of Labraz_. Henrich of Barcelona paid me +two thousand pesetas for it. I invested the two thousand pesetas in a +speculation upon the Bourse, and they disappeared in two weeks. + +The money which I have received for my other books, I have employed to +better purpose. + + + + +BOHEMIA + + +I have never been a believer in the absurd myth called Bohemia. The idea +of living gaily and irresponsibly in Madrid, or in any other Spanish +city, without taking thought for the morrow, is so preposterous that it +passes comprehension. Bohemia is utterly false in Paris and London, but +in Spain, where life is difficult, it is even more of a cheat. + +Bohemia is not only false, it is contemptible. It suggests to me a minor +Christian sect, of the most inconsequential degree, nicely calculated +for the convenience of hangers on at cafés. + +Henri Murger was the son of the wife of a _concièrge_. + +Of course, this would not have mattered had his outlook upon life not +been that of the son of the wife of a _concièrge_. + + + + +OUR OWN GENERATION + + +The beginner in letters makes his way up, as a rule, amid a literary +environment which is distinguished by reputations and hierarchies, +all respected by him. But this was not the case with the young writers +of my day. During the years 1898 to 1900, a number of young men suddenly +found themselves thrown together in Madrid, whose only rule was the +principle that the immediate past did not exist for them. + +This aggregation of authors and artists might have seemed to have been +brought together under some leadership, and to have been directed to +some purpose; yet one who entertained such an assumption would have been +mistaken. + +Chance brought us together for a moment, a very brief moment, to be +followed by a general dispersal. There were days when thirty or forty +young men, apprentices in the art of writing, sat around the tables in +the old Café de Madrid. + +Doubtless such gatherings of new men, eager to interfere in and to +influence the operations of the social system, yet without either the +warrant of tradition or any proved ability to do so, are common upon a +larger scale in all revolutions. + +As we neither had, nor could have had, in the nature of the case, a task +to perform, we soon found that we were divided into small groups, and +finally broke up altogether. + + + + +AZORÍN + + +A few days after the publication of my first book, _Sombre Lives_, +Miguel Poveda, who was responsible for printing it, sent a copy to +Martínez Ruiz, who was at that time in Monóvar. Martínez Ruiz wrote me a +long letter concerning the book by return mail; on the following day he +sent another. + +Poveda handed me the letters to read and I was filled with surprise and +joy. Some weeks later, returning from the National Library, Martínez +Ruiz, whom I knew by sight, came up to me on the Recoletos. + +"Are you Baroja?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"I am Martínez Ruiz." + +We shook hands and became friends. + +In those days we travelled about the country together, we contributed to +the same papers, and the ideas and the men we attacked were the same. + +Later, Azorín became an enthusiastic partisan of Maura, which appeared +to me particularly absurd, as I have never been able to see anything but +an actor of the grand style in Maura, a man of small ideas. Next he +became a partisan of La Cierva, which was as bad in my opinion as being +a Maurista. I am unable to say at the moment whether he is contemplating +any further transformations. + +But, whether he is or not, Azorín will always remain a master of +language to me, besides an excellent friend who has a weakness for +believing all men to be great who talk in a loud voice and who pull +their cuffs down out of their coat sleeves with a grand gesture whenever +they appear upon the platform. + + + + +PAUL SCHMITZ + + +Another friendship which I found stimulating was that of Paul Schmitz, a +Swiss from Basle, who had come to Madrid because of some weakness of the +lungs, spending three years among us in order to rehabilitate himself. +Schmitz had studied in Switzerland and in Germany, and also had lived +for a long time in the north of Russia. + +He was familiar with what in my judgment are the two most interesting +countries of Europe. + +Paul Schmitz was a timid person of an inquiring turn of mind, whose +youth had been tempestuous. I made a number of excursions with Schmitz +to Toledo, to El Paular and to the Springs of Urbión; a year or two +later we visited Switzerland several times together. + +Schmitz was like an open window through which I looked out upon an +unknown world. I held long conversations with him upon life, literature, +art and philosophy. + +I recall that I took him one Sunday afternoon to the home of Don Juan +Valera. + +When Schmitz and I arrived, Valera had just settled down for the +afternoon to listen to his daughter, who was reading aloud one of the +latest novels of Zola. + +Valera, Schmitz and I sat chatting for perhaps four or five hours. There +was no subject that we could all agree upon. Valera and I were no sooner +against the Swiss than the Swiss and Valera were against me, or the +Swiss and I against Valera, and then each flew off after his own +opinion. + +Valera, who saw that the Swiss and I were anarchists, said it was beyond +his comprehension how any man could conceive of a state of general well +being. + +"Do you mean to say that you believe," he said to me, "that there will +ever come a time when every man will be able to set a bowl of oysters +from Arcachón upon his table and top it off with a bottle of champagne +of first-rate vintage, besides having a woman sitting beside him in a +Worth gown?" + +"No, no, Don Juan," I replied. "In the eyes of the anarchist, oysters, +champagne, and Worth are mere superstitions, myths to which we attach no +importance. We do not spend our time dreaming about oysters, while +champagne is not nectar to our tastes. All that we ask is to live well, +and to have those about us live well also." + +We could not convince each other. When Schmitz and I left Valera's house +it was already night, and we found ourselves absorbed in his talents and +his limitations. + + + + +ORTEGA Y GASSET + + +Ortega y Gasset impresses me as a traveller who has journeyed through +the world of culture. He moves upon a higher level, which it is +difficult to reach, and upon which it is still more difficult to +maintain oneself. + +It may be that Ortega has no great sympathy for my manner of living, +which is insubordinate; it may be that I look with unfriendly eye upon +his ambitious and aristocratic sympathies; nevertheless, he is a master +who brings glad news of the unknown--that is, of the unknown to us. + +Doctor San Martín was fond of telling how he was sitting one day upon a +bench in the Retiro, reading. + +"Are you reading a novel?" inquired a gentleman, sitting down beside +him. + +"No, I am studying." + +"What! Studying at your age?" exclaimed the gentleman, amazed. + +The same remark might be made to me: "What! Sitting under a master at +your age?" + +As far as I am concerned, every man who knows more than I do is my +master. + +I know very well that philosophy and metaphysics are nothing to the +great mass of physicians who pick up their science out of foreign +reviews, adding nothing themselves to what they read; nor, for that +matter, are they to most Spanish engineers, who are skilled in doing +sufficiently badly today what was done in England and Germany very well +thirty years ago; and the same thing is true of the apothecaries. The +practical is all that these people concede to exist, but how do they +know what is practical? Considering the matter from the practical point +of view, there can be no doubt but that civilization has attained a high +development wherever there have been great metaphysicisms, and then with +the philosophers have come the inventors, who between them are the glory +of mankind. Unamuno despises inventors, but in this case it is his +misfortune. It is far easier for a nation which is destitute of a +tradition of culture to improvise an histologist or a physicist, than a +philosopher or a real thinker. + +Ortega y Gasset, the only approach to a philosopher whom I have ever +known, is one of the few Spaniards whom it is interesting to hear talk. + + + + +A PSEUDO-PATRON + + +Although a man may never have amounted to anything, and will probably +continue in much the same case, that is to say never amounting to +anything, yet there are persons who will take pride in having given him +his start in the world--in short, upon having made him known. Señor +Ruiz Contreras has set up some such absurd claim in regard to me. +According to Ruiz Contreras, he brought me into public notice through a +review which he published in 1899, under the title _Revista Nueva_. +Thus, according to Ruiz Contreras, I am known, and have been for +eighteen years! Although it may seem scarcely worth while to expose such +an obvious joke, I should like to clear up this question for the benefit +of any future biographers. Why should I not indulge the hope of having +them? + +In 1899, Ruiz Contreras invited my co-operation in a weekly magazine, in +which I was to be both stockholder and editor. Those days already seem a +long way off. At first I refused, but he insisted; at length we agreed +that I should write for the magazine and share in meeting the expenses, +in company with Ruiz Contreras, Reparaz, Lassalle and the novelist +Matheu. + +I made two or three payments, and moved down some of my pictures and +furniture to the office in consequence, until the time came when I began +to feel that it was humorous for me to be paying for publishing my +articles, when I was perfectly well able to dispose of them to any other +sheet. Upon my cutting off payments, Ruiz Contreras informed me that a +number of the stockholders, among whom was Icaza, who had replaced +Reparaz, took the position that if I did not pay, I should not be +permitted to write for the magazine. + +"Very well, I shall not write." And I ceased to write. + +Previous to my connection with the _Revista Nueva_, I had +contributed articles to _El Liberal_, _El Pais_, _El +Globo_, _La Justicia_, and _La Voz de Guipúzcoa_, as well +as to other publications. + +A year after my contributions to the _Revista Nueva_, I brought out +_Sombre Lives_, which scarcely sold one hundred copies, and, then, +a little later, _The House of Aizgorri_, the sale of which fell +short of fifty. + +At this time, Martínez Ruiz published a comedy, _The Power of +Love_, for which I provided a prologue, and I went about with the +publisher, Rodríguez Serra, through the bookshops, peddling the book. In +a shop on the Plaza de Santa Ana, Rodríguez Serra asked the proprietor, +not altogether without a touch of malice: + +"What do you think of this book?" + +"It would be all right," answered the proprietor, who did not know me, +"if anybody knew who Martínez Ruiz was; and who is this Pío Baroja?" + +Señor Ruiz Contreras says that he made me known, but the fact is that +nobody knew me in those days; Señor Ruiz Contreras flatters himself that +he did me a great favour by publishing my articles, at a cost to me, at +the very least, of two or three _duros_ apiece. + +If this is to be a patron of letters, I should like to patronize half +the planet. + +As for literary influence, Ruiz Contreras never had any upon me. He was +an admirer of Arsène Houssage, Paul Bourget, and other novelists with a +sophisticated air, who never meant anything to me. The theatre also +obsessed him, a malady which I have never suffered, and he was a devotee +of the poet, Zorrilla, in which respect I was unable to share his +enthusiasm, nor can I do so today. Finally, he was a political +reactionary, while I am a man of radical tendencies. + + + + +XIII + +PARISIAN DAYS + + +For the past twenty years I have been in the habit of visiting Paris, +not for the purpose of becoming acquainted with the city--to see it once +is enough; nor do I go in order to meet French authors, as, for the most +part, they consider themselves so immeasurably above Spaniards that +there is no way in which a self-respecting person can approach them. I +go to meet the members of the Spanish colony, which includes some types +which are most interesting. + +I have gathered a large number of stories and anecdotes in this way, +some of which I have incorporated in my books. + + + + +ESTÉVANEZ + + +Don Nicolás Estévanez was a good friend of mine. During my sojourns in +Paris, I met him every afternoon in the Café de la Fleur in the +Boulevard St. Germain. + +When I was writing _The Last of the Romantics_ and _Grotesque +Tragedies_, Estévanez furnished me with data and information +concerning life in Paris under the Second Empire. + +When I last saw him in the autumn of 1913, he made a practice of coming +to the café with a paper scribbled over with notes, to assist his memory +to recall the anecdotes which he had it in mind to tell. + +I can see him now in the Café de la Fleur, with his blue eyes, his long +white beard, his cheeks, which were still rosy, his calm and always +phlegmatic air. + +Once he became much excited. Javier Bueno and I happened on him in a +café on the Avenue d'Orleans, not far from the Lion de Belfort. Bueno +asked some questions about the recent attempt by Moral to assassinate +the King in Madrid, and Estévanez suddenly went to pieces. An anarchist +told me afterwards that Estévanez had carried the bomb which was thrown +by Morral in Madrid, from Paris to Barcelona, at which port he had taken +ship for Cuba, by arrangement with the Duke of Bivona. + +I believe this story to have been a pure fabrication, but I feel +perfectly certain that Estévanez knew beforehand that the crime was to +be attempted. + + + + +MY VERSATILITY ACCORDING TO BONAFOUX + + +Speaking of Estévanez, I recall also Bonafoux, whom I saw frequently. +According to González de la Peña, the painter, he held my versatility +against me. + +"Bonafoux," remarked Peña, "feels that you are too versatile and too +volatile." + +"Indeed? In what way?" + +"One day you entered the bar and said to Bonafoux that a testimonial +banquet ought to be organized for Estévanez, enlarging upon it +enthusiastically. Bonafoux answered: 'Go ahead and make the +preparations, and we will all get together.' When you came into the café +a few nights later, Bonafoux asked: 'How about that banquet?' 'What +banquet?' you replied. It had already passed out of your mind. Now, tell +me: Is this true?" inquired Peña. + +"Yes, it is. We all have something of Tartarin in us, more or less. We +talk and we talk, and then we forget what we say." + +Other Parisian types return to me when I think of those days. There was +a Cuban journalist, who was satisfactorily dirty, of whom Bonafoux used +to say that he not only ate his plate of soup but managed to wash his +face in it at the same time. There was a Catalan guitar player, besides +some girls from Madrid who walked the tight rope, whom we used to invite +to join us at the café from time to time. And then there was a whole +host of other persons, all more or less shabby, down at the heel and +picturesque. + + + + + +XIV + +LITERARY ENMITIES + + +Making our entrance into the world of letters hurling contradictions +right and left, the young men of our generation were received by the +writers of established reputation with unfriendly demonstrations. As was +natural, this was not only the attitude of the older writers, but it +extended to our contemporaries in years as well, even to those who were +most modern. + + + + +THE ENMITY OF DICENTA + + +Among those who cherished a deadly hatred of me was Dicenta. It was an +antipathy which had its origin in the realm of ideas, and it was +accentuated subsequently by an article which I contributed to _El +Globo_ upon his drama _Aurora_, in which I maintained that +Dicenta was not a man of new or broad ideas, but completely preoccupied +with the ancient conceptions of honesty and honour. One night in the +Café Fornos--I am able to vouch for the truth of this incident because, +years afterwards, he told me the story himself--Dicenta accosted a young +man who was sitting at an adjacent table taking supper, and attempted to +draw him into discussion, under the impression that it was I. The young +man was so frightened that he never dared to open his mouth. + +"Come," shouted Dicenta, "we shall settle this matter at once." + +"I have nothing to settle with you," replied the young man. + +"Yes, sir, you have; you have stated in an article that my ideas are not +revolutionary." + +"I never stated anything of the kind." + +"What is that?" + +"No, sir." + +"But aren't you Pío Baroja?" + +"I am not, sir." + +Dicenta turned on his heel and marched back to his seat. + +Sometime later, Dicenta and I became friends, although we were never +very intimate, because he felt that I did not appreciate him at his full +worth. And it was the truth. + + + + +THE POSTHUMOUS ENMITY OF SAWA + + +I met Alejandro Sawa one evening at the Café Fornos, where I had gone +with a friend. + +As a matter of fact, I had never read anything which he had written, but +his appearance impressed me. Once I followed him in the street with the +intention of speaking to him, but my courage failed at the last moment. +A number of months later, I met him one summer afternoon on the +Recoletos, when he was in the company of a Frenchman named Cornuty. +Cornuty and Sawa were conversing and reciting verses; they took me to a +wine-shop in the Plaza de Herradores, where they drank a number of +glasses, which I paid for, whereupon Sawa asked me to lend him three +pesetas. I did not have them, and told him so. + +"Do you live far from here?" asked Alejandro, in his lofty style. + +"No, near by." + +"Very well then, you can go home and bring me the money." + +He issued this command with such an air of authority that I went home +and brought him the money. He came to the door of the wine-shop, took it +from me, and then said: + +"You may go now." + +This was the way in which insignificant bourgeois admirers were treated +in the school of Baudelaire and Verlaine. + +Later again, when I brought out _Sombre Lives_, I sometimes saw +Sawa in the small hours of the morning, his long locks flowing, and +followed by his dog. He always gripped my hand with such force that it +did me some hurt, and then he would say to me, in a tragic tone: + +"Be proud! You have written _Sombre Lives_." + +I took it as a joke. + +One day Alejandro wrote me to come to his house. He was living on the +Cuesta de Santo Domingo. I betook myself there, and he made me a +proposition which was obviously preposterous. He handed me five or six +articles, written by him, which had already been published, together +with some notes, saying that if I would add certain material, we should +then be able to make up a book of "Parisian Impressions," which could +appear under the names of us both. + +I read the articles and did not care for them. When I went to return +them, he asked me: + +"What have you done?" + +"Nothing. I think it would be difficult for us to collaborate; there is +no possible bond of unity in what we write." + +"How is that?" + +"You are one of these eloquent writers, and I am not." + +This remark gave great offence. + +Another reason for Alejandro's enmity was an opinion expressed by my +brother, Ricardo. + +Ricardo wished to paint the portrait of Manuel Sawa in oils, as Manuel +had marked personality at that time, when he still wore a beard. + +"But here am I," said Alejandro. "Am I not a more interesting subject to +be painted?" + +"No, no, not at all," we all shouted together--this took place in the +Café de Lisboa--"Manuel has more character." + +Alejandro said nothing, but, a few moments later, he rose, looked at +himself in the glass, arranged his flowing locks, and then, glaring at +us from top to toe, while he pronounced the letter with the utmost +distinctness, he said simply: + +"M...." and walked out of the café. + +Some time passed before Alejandro heard that I had put him into one of +my novels and he conceived a certain dislike for me, in spite of which +we saw each other now and then, always conversing affectionately. + +One day he sent for me to come and see him. He was living in the Calle +del Conde Duque. He was in bed, already blind. His spirit was as high as +before, while his interest in literary matters remained the same. His +brother, Miguel, who was present, happened to say during the +conversation that the hat I wore, which I had purchased in Paris a few +days previously, had a flatter brim than was usual. Alejandro asked to +examine it, and busied himself feeling of the brim. + +"This is a hat," he exclaimed enthusiastically, "that a man can wear +with long hair." Some months subsequent to his death a book of his, +_Light Among the Shadows_, was published, in which Alejandro spoke +ill of me, although he had a good word for _Sombre Lives_. + +He called me a country-man, said that my bones were misshapen, and then +stated that glory does not go hand in hand with tuberculosis. Poor +Alejandro! He was sound at heart, an eloquent child of the +Mediterranean, born to orate in the lands of the sun, but he took it +into his head that it was his duty to make himself over into the +likeness of one of the putrid products of the North. + + + + +SEMI-HATRED ON THE PART OF SILVERIO LANZA + + +A mutual friend, Antonio Gil Campos, introduced me to Silverio Lanza. + +Silverio Lanza was a man of great originality, endowed with an enormous +fund of thwarted ambition and pride, which was only natural, as he was a +notably fine writer who had not yet met with success, nor even with the +recognition which other younger writers enjoyed. + +The first time that I saw Lanza, I remember how his eyes sparkled when I +told him that I liked his books. Nobody ever paid any attention to him +in those days. + +Silverio Lanza was a singular character. At times he seemed benevolent, +and then again there were times when he would appear malignant in the +extreme. + +His ideas upon the subject of literature were positively absurd. When I +sent him _Sombre Lives_, he wrote me an unending letter in which he +attempted to convince me that I ought to append a lesson or moral, to +every tale. If I did not wish to write them, he offered to do it +himself. + +Silverio thought that literature was not to be composed like history, +according to Quintilian's definition, _ad narrandum_, but _ad +probandum_. + +When I gave him _The House of Aizgorri_, he was outraged by the +optimistic conclusion of the book, and advised me to change it. +According to his theory, if the son of the Aizgorri family came to a bad +end, the daughter ought to come to a bad end also. + +Being of a somewhat fantastical turn of mind, Silverio Lanza was full of +political projects that were extraordinary. + +I remember that one of his ideas was that we ought all to write the King +a personal note of congratulation upon his attaining his majority. + +"It is the most revolutionary thing that can be done at such a time," +insisted Lanza, apparently quite convinced. + +"I am unable to see it," I replied. Azorín and myself were of the +opinion that it was a ridiculous proceeding which would never produce +the desired result. + +Another of Lanza's hobbies was an aggressive misogyny. + +"Baroja, my friend," he would say to me, "you are too gallant and +respectful in your novels with the ladies. Women are like laws, they are +to be violated." + +I laughed at him. + +One day I was walking with my friend Gil Campos and my cousin Goñi, when +we happened on Silverio Lanza, who took us to the Café de San Sebastián, +where we sat down in the section facing the Plazuela del Angel. It was a +company that was singularly assorted. + +Silverio reverted to the theme that women should be handled with the +rod. Gil Campos proceeded to laugh, being gifted with an ironic vein, +and made fun of him. For my part, I was tired of it, so I said to Lanza: + +"See here, Don Juan" (his real name was Juan Bautista Amorós), "what you +are giving us now is literature, and poor literature at that. You are +not, and I am not, able to violate law and women as we see fit. That may +be all very well for Caesars and Napoleons and Borgias, but you are a +respectable gentleman who lives in a little house at Getafe with your +wife, and I am a poor man myself, who manages as best he may to make a +living. You would tremble in your boots if you ever broke a law, or even +a municipal ordinance, and so would I. As far as women are concerned, we +are both of us glad to take what we can get, if we can get anything, and +I am afraid that neither of us is ever going to get very much, despite +the fact"--I added by way of a humorous touch--"that we are two of the +most distinguished minds in Europe." + +My cousin Goñi replied to this with the rare tact that was +characteristic of him, arguing that within the miserable sphere of +tangible reality I was right, while Lanza moved upon a higher plane, +which was more ideal and more romantic. He went on to add that Lanza and +he were both Berbers, and so violent and passionate, while I was an +Aryan, although a vulgar Aryan, whose ideas were simply those which were +shared by everybody. + +Lanza was not satisfied with my cousin's explanation and departed with a +marked lack of cordiality. + +Since that time, Silverio has regarded me with mixed emotions, half +friendly, half the reverse, although in one of his latest books, _The +Surrender of Santiago_, he has referred to me as a great friend and a +great writer. I suspect, however, that he does not love me. + + + + +XV + +THE PRESS + +OUR NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS + + +I have always been very much interested in the newspaper and periodical +press, and in everything that has any connection with printing. When my +father, my grandfather, and great grandfather set up struggling papers +in a provincial capital, it may be said that they were not printers in +vain. + +Because of my fondness for newspapers and magazines, it is a grief to me +that the Spanish press should be so weak, so poor, so pusillanimous and +stiff-jointed. + +Of late, while the foreign press has been expanding and widening its +scope, ours has been standing still. + +There is, of course, an economic explanation to justify our deficiency, +but this is valid only in the matter of quantity, and not as to quality. +Comparing our press with that of the rest of the world, a rosary of +negation might easily be made up in this fashion: + +Our press does not concern itself with what is of universal interest. + +Our press does not concern itself with what is of national interest. + +Our press does not concern itself with literature. + +Our press does not concern itself with philosophy. + +And so on to infinity. + +Corpus Barga has told me that when Señor Groizard, a relative of his, +was ambassador to the Vatican, Leo XIII once inquired of him, in a +jargon of Italo-Spanish, in the presence of the papal secretary, +Cardinal Rampolla: + +"Does the Señor Ambasciatore speak Italian?" + +"No, not Italian, although I understand it a little." + +"Does the Señor Ambasciatore speak English?" + +"No, not English, I do not speak that," replied Groizard. + +"Does the Señor Ambasciatore speak German?" + +"No German, no Dutch; not at all." + +"No doubt then the Señor Ambasciatore speaks French?" + +"French? No. I am able to translate it a little, but I do not speak it." + +"Then what does the Señor Ambasciatore speak?" asked Leo XIII, smiling +that Voltairian smile of his at his secretary. + +"Then Señor Ambasciatore speaks a heavy back-country dialect called +Extramaduran," replied Rampolla del Tindaro, bending over to His +Holiness's ear. + +The Spanish press has made a resolution, now of long standing, to speak +nothing but a back-country dialect called Extramaduran. + +_Our Journalists_ + +Our journalists supply the measure of our journals. When the great names +are those of Miguel Moya, Romeo, Rocamora and Don Pío, what are we to +think of the little fellows? + +Speaking generally, the Spanish journalist is interested in politics, in +theatres, in bull fights, and in nothing else; whatever is beyond these, +does not concern him. Not even the _feuilleton_ attracts his +attention. A wooden, highly mannered phrase sponsored by Maura, is much +more stimulating to his mind than the most sensational piece of news. + +The Spanish newspaper man is endowed with an extraordinary lack of +imagination and of curiosity. I recall having given a friend, who was a +journalist, a little book of Nietzsche's to read, which he returned with +the remark that he had not been able to get through it, as it was +insufferable drivel. I have heard the same opinion, or similar ones, +expressed by journalists of Ibsen, Schopenhauer, Dostoievsky, Stendhal +and all the most stimulating minds of Europe. + +The wretched Saint Aubin, wretched certainly as a critic, used to +ridicule Tolstoi and the illness which resulted in his death, +maintaining that it was nothing more than an advertisement. The most +benighted vulgarity reigns in our press. + +Upon occasion, vulgarity goes hand in hand with an ignorance which is +astounding. I remember going to a café on the Calle de Alcalá known as +la Maison Dorée one afternoon with Regoyos. Felipe Trigo, the novelist, +sat down at our table with a friend of his, a journalist, I believe, +from America. I have never been a friend of Trigo's, and could never +take any interest either in the man or his work, which to my mind is +tiresome and commercially erotic, besides being absolutely devoid of all +charm. + +Regoyos, who is effusive by nature, soon became engaged in conversation +with them, and the talk turned upon artistic subjects, in which he was +interested, and then to his travels abroad. + +Trigo put in his oar and uttered a number of preposterous statements. In +particular, he described a ship which had unloaded at Milan. When +Regoyos pointed out that Milan was not a seaport, he replied: + +"Probably it was some other place then. What is the difference?" + +He continued with a string of geographical and anthropological blunders, +which were concurred in by the journalist, while Regoyos and I sat by in +amazement. + +When we left the café, Regoyos inquired: + +"Could they have been joking?" + +"No; nonsense. They do not believe that such things are worth knowing. +They think they are petty details which might be useful to railway +porters. Trigo imagines that he is a magician, who understands the +female mind." + +"Well, does he?" asked Regoyos, with naïve innocence. + +"How can he understand anything? The poor fellow is ignorant. His other +attainments are on a par with his geography." + +The ignorance of authors and journalists is accompanied as a matter of +course by a total want of comprehension. A number of years ago, a rich +young man called at my house, intending to found a review. During the +conversation, he explained that he was a Murcian, a lawyer and a +follower of Maura. + +Finally, after expounding his literary ideas, he informed me that +Ricardo León, who at that time had just published his first novel, +would, in his opinion, come to be acknowledged as the first novelist of +Europe. He also assured me that Dickens's humour was absolutely vulgar, +cheap and out of date. + +"I am not surprised that you should think so," I said to him. "You are +from Murcia, you are a lawyer and a Maurista; naturally, you like +Ricardo León, and it is equally natural that you should not like +Dickens." + +Persons who imagine that it is of no consequence whether Milan is a +seaport or not, who believe that Nietzsche is a drivelling ass, and who +make bold to tell us that Dickens is a cheap author--in one word, young +gentlemen lawyers who are partisans of Maura, are the people who provide +copy for our press. How can the Spanish press be expected to be +different from what it is? + + + + +AMERICANS + + +Unquestionably, Spaniards suffer much from the uncertainty of +information and narrowness of view inevitable to those who live apart +from the main currents of life. + +In comparison with the English, the Germans, or the French, whether we +like it or not, we appear provincial. We are provincials who possess +more or less talent, but nevertheless we are provincials. + +So it is that an Italian, a Russian, or a Swede prefers to read a book +by a mediocre Parisian, such as Marcel Prévost, to one by a writer of +genuine talent, such as Galdós; it also explains why the canvases of +second rate painters such as David, Gericault, or Ingres are more highly +esteemed in the market than those of a painter of genius like Goya. + +To be provincial has its virtues as well as its defects. At times the +provincial are accompanied by universal elements, which blend and form a +masterpiece. This was the case with _Don Quixote_, with the +etchings of Goya and the dramas of Ibsen. Similarly, among new peoples, +provincial stupidity will often form a blend with an obtuseness which is +world-wide. The aridness and infertility characteristic of the soil +combine with the detritus of fashion and the follies of the four +quarters of the globe. The result is a child-like type, petulant, devoid +of virtue, and utterly destitute of a single manly quality. This is the +American type. America is _par excellence_ the continent of +stupidity. + +The American has not yet outgrown the monkey in him and remains in the +imitative stage. + +I have no particular reason to dislike Americans. My hostility towards +them arises merely from the fact that I have never known one who had the +air of being anybody, who impressed me as a man. + +You frequently meet a man in the interior of Spain, in some small +village, perhaps, whose conversation conveys the impression that he is a +real man, wrought out of the ore that is most human and most noble. At +such times one becomes reconciled to one's country, for all its +charlatans and hordes of sharpers. + +An American never appears to be calm, serene and collected. There are +plenty who seem to be wild, impulsive creatures, driven on by sanguinary +fury, while others disclose the vanity of the chorus girl, or a self- +conceit which is wholly ridiculous. + +My lack of sympathy for Spanish-Americans extends to their literary +productions. Everything that I have read by South Americans, and I bear +in mind the not disinterested encomiums of Unamuno, I have found to be +both poor and deficient in substance. + +Beginning with Sarmiento's _Facundo_, which is heavy, cheap, and +uninteresting, and coming down to the latest productions of Ingenieros, +Manuel Ugarte, Ricardo Rojas and Contreras, this is true without +exception. + +What a deluge of shoddy snobbery and vulgar display pours out of +America! + +It is often argued that Spaniards should eulogize South Americans for +political reasons. This is one of many recommendations which proceed +from the craniums of gentlemen who top themselves off with silk hats and +who carry a lecture inside which is in demand by Ibero-American +societies. + +I have no faith that this brand of politics will be productive of +results. + +Citizens of old, civilized countries are still sensible to flattery and +compliment, but what are you to tell an Argentine who is fully convinced +that Argentina is a more important country than England or Germany, +because she raises a large quantity of wheat, to say nothing of a great +number of cows? + +Whenever Unamuno writes he decries Kant, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, and +then promptly eulogizes the mighty General Aníbal Pérez and the great +poet Diocleciano Sánchez, who hail from the pampas. To these fellows, +such praise seems grudging enough. Salvador Rueda himself must appear +tame to these hide-stretchers. + + + + +XVI + +POLITICS + + +I have always been a liberal radical, an individualist and an anarchist. +In the first place, I am an enemy of the Church; in the second place, I +am an enemy of the State. When these great powers are in conflict I am a +partisan of the State as against the Church, but on the day of the +State's triumph, I shall become an enemy of the State. If I had lived +during the French Revolution, I should have been an internationalist of +the school of Anacarsis Clootz; during the struggle for liberty, I +should have been one of the _Carbonieri_. + +To the extent in which liberalism has been a destructive force, inimical +to the past, it enthralls me. The fight against religious prejudice and +the aristocracy, the suppression of religious communities, inheritance +taxes--in short, whatever has a tendency to pulverize completely the +ancient order of society, fills me with a great joy. On the other hand, +insofar as liberalism is constructive, as it has been for example in its +advocacy of universal suffrage, in its democracy, and in its system of +parliamentary government, I consider it ridiculous and valueless as +well. + +Even today, wherever it is obliged to take the aggressive, it seems to +me that the good in liberalism is not exhausted; but wherever it has +become an accomplished fact, and is accepted as such, it neither +interests me nor enlists my admiration. + + + + +VOTES AND APPLAUSE + + +In our present day democracy, there are only two effective sanctions: +votes and applause. + +Those are all. Just as in the old days men committed all sorts of crimes +in order to please their sovereign, now they commit similar crimes in +order to satisfy the people. + +And this truth has been recognized from Aristotle to Burke. + +Democracy ends in histrionism. + +A man who gets up to talk before a crowd must of necessity be an actor. +I have wondered from time to time if I might not have certain histrionic +gifts myself; however, when I have put them to the test, I have found +that they were not sufficient. I have made six or seven speeches during +my brief political career. I spoke in Valencia, in a pelota court, and I +delivered an address at Barcelona in the Casa del Pueblo, in both of +which places I was applauded generously. Nevertheless the applause +failed to intoxicate me; it produced no impression upon me whatever. It +seemed too much like mere noise--noise made by men's hands, and having +nothing to do with myself. + +I am not good enough as an actor to be a politician. + + + + +POLITICIANS + + +I have never been able to feel any enthusiasm for Spanish politicians. +We hear a great deal about Cánovas. Cánovas has always impressed me as +being as bad an orator as he was a writer. When I first read his _Bell +of Huesca_, I could not contain myself for laughing. As far as his +speeches are concerned, I have also read a few, and find them horribly +heavy, diffuse, monotonous and deficient in style. I hear that Cánovas +is a great historian, but if so, I am not acquainted with that side of +him. + +Castelar was unquestionably a man of exceptional gifts as a writer, but +he failed to take advantage of them, and they were utterly dissipated. +He lacked what most Spaniards of the 19th Century lacked with him; that +is, reserve. + +When Echegaray was made Minister of Finance, he was already an old man. +A reporter called one day to interview him at the Ministry, and +Echegaray confessed that he was without any very clear idea as to just +what the duties of his office were to be. When the reporter took leave +of the dramatist, he remarked: + +"Don José, you are not going to be comfortable here; it is cold in the +building. Besides, the air is too fresh." + +Echegaray replied: + +"Yes, and your description suits me exactly." + +This cynically cheap joke might have fallen appropriately from the +tongues of the majority of Spanish politicians. Among these male +_bailarinas_, nearly all of whom date back to the Revolution of +September, we may find, indeed, some men of austere character: Salmerón, +Pí y Margall and Costa. Salmerón was an inimitable actor, but an actor +who was sincere in his part. He was the most marvellous orator that I +have ever heard. + +As a philosopher, he was of no account, and as a politician he was a +calamity. + +Pí y Margall, whom I met once in his own home where I went in company +with Azorín, was no more a politician or a philosopher than was +Salmerón. He was a journalist, a popularizer of other men's ideas, +gifted with a style at once clear and concise. Pí y Margall was sincere, +enamoured of ideas, and took but little thought of himself. + +As to Costa, I confess that he was always antipathetic to me. Like +Nakens, he was a man who lived upon the estimation in which he was held +by others, pretending all the while that he attached no importance to it +whatever. Aguirre Metaca once told me that while he was connected with a +paper in Saragossa, he had solicited an interview with Costa, and +thereupon Costa wrote the interview himself, referring to himself here +and there in it as the Lion of Graus. I cannot accept Costa as a modern +European, intellectually. He was a figure for the Cortes of Cadiz, +solemn, pompous, becollared and rhetorical. He was one of those actors +who abound in southern countries, who are laid to rest in their graves +without ever having had the least idea that their entire lives have been +nothing but stage spectacles. + + + + +REVOLUTIONISTS + + +Whether politicians or authors, the Spanish revolutionists always smack +to my mind of the property room, and especially is this true of the +authors. Zozaya, Morote and Dicenta have passed for many years now as +terrible men, both destructive and great innovators. But how ridiculous! +Zozaya, like Dicenta, has never done anything but manipulate the +commonplace, failing to impart either lightness or novelty to it, as +have Valera and Anatole France, succeeding only on the other hand in +making it more plumbeous and indigestible. + +Speaking of Luis Morote, against whom I urge nothing as a man, he has +always been a bugbear to me, the personification of dullness, of +vulgarity, of everything that lacks interest and charm. I can conceive +nothing lower than an article by Morote. + +"What talent that man has! What a revolutionary personality!" they used +to say in Valencia, and once the janitor at the Club added: "To think I +knew that man when he was only this high!" And he held out his hand +about a metre above the ground. + +Spain has never produced any revolutionists. Don Nicolás Estévanez, who +imagined himself an anarchist, would fly into a rage if he read an +article which concealed a gallicism in it. + +"Do not bother your head about gallicisms," I used to say to him. "What +do they matter, anyway?" + +No, we have never had any revolutionists in Spain. That is, we have had +only one: Ferrer. + +He was certainly not a man of great mind. When he talked, he was on the +level of Morote and Zozaya, which is nothing more nor less than the +level of everybody else; but when it came to action, he did amount to +something, and that something was dangerous. + + + + +LERROUX + + +My only experience in politics was gained with Lerroux. + +One Sunday, seven or eight years ago, on coming out of my house and +crossing the Plaza de San Marcial, I observed that a great crowd had +gathered. + +"What is the matter?" I asked. + +"Lerroux is coming," they told me. + +I delayed a moment and happened on Villar, the composer, among the +crowd. We fell to talking of Lerroux and what he might accomplish. A +procession was soon formed, which we followed, and we found ourselves in +front of the editorial offices of _El Pais_. + +"Shall we go in?" asked Villar. "Do you know Lerroux?" + +I had met Lerroux in the days when _El Progreso_ was still +published, having called once with Maeztu at his office; afterwards I +saw him in Barcelona in a large shed, which, if I recall rightly, went +by the name of "La Fraternidad Republicana," and then I was accompanied +by Azorín and Junoy. + +Villar and I went upstairs and greeted Lerroux in the offices of _El +Pais_. + +"Estévanez has spoken of you to me," he said. "Is he well?" + +"Yes, very well." + +A few days later, Lerroux invited me to dinner at the Café Inglés. +Lerroux, Fuente and I dined together, and then fell to talking. Lerroux +asked me to join his party, whereupon I pointed out the qualifications +which were lacking in me, which were necessary to a politician. Shortly +after, I was nominated as a candidate for the City Council, and I +addressed a number of meetings, although always coldly, and never at +high tension. + +While I was with Lerroux, I was never treated save with consideration. + +Why did I leave his party? Chiefly because of differences as to ideas +and as to tactics. Lerroux wished to organize his party into a party of +law and order, so that it might be capable of governing, and also to +have it friendly with the Army. I was of the opinion that it ought to be +a revolutionary party, not in the sense that I was thinking of erecting +barricades, but I wished it to contest, to upset things, and to protest +against injustice. + +What Lerroux wanted was a party of orators who could speak at public +meetings, a party of office-holders, councillors, provincial deputies +and the like, while I held, and still hold, that the only efficacious +revolutionary weapon is the printed page. Lerroux was anxious to +transform the radical party into something aristocratic and Castilian; I +desired to see it retain its Catalan character, and continue to wear +blouses and rope-soled shoes. + +I withdrew from the party for these reasons, to which I may add +Lerroux's attitude of indifference upon the occasion of the execution of +the stoker of the "Numancia." + +Not many months after, I met him on the Carrera de San Jerónimo, and he +said to me: + +"I have read your diatribes." + +"They were not directed against you, but against your politics. I shall +never speak ill of you, because I have no cause." + +"Yes," he replied, "I know that at heart you are one of my friends." + + + + +AN OFFER + + +A number of years ago, when the Conservatives were in power and Dato was +President of the Ministry, Azorín brought me word that Sánchez Guerra, +then Minister of the Interior, wished to see me and to have a little +talk, as perhaps some way might be arranged by which I might be made +deputy. During the afternoon, I accompanied Azorín to the Ministry, and +we saw the Minister. + +He informed me that he would like to have me enter the Congress. + +"I should like to myself," I replied, "but it would appear to me rather +difficult." + +"But is there not some town where you are well known, and where you have +influence?" + +"No, none whatever." + +"How would you like then to be deputy to represent the Government?" + +"As a regular?" + +"Yes." + +"As a Conservative?" + +"Yes." + +I thought a moment and said: "No, I can never be a Conservative, however +it might suit my interest to be so. Try as hard as I might, I should +never succeed." + +"That is the only way in which we can make you deputy." + +"Well, it cannot be helped! I must resign myself then to amount to +nothing." + +Thanking the Minister for his kindness. Azorín and I walked out of the +Ministry of the Interior. + + + + +SOCIALISTS + + +As for Socialists, I have never cared to have anything to do with them. +One of the most offensive things about Socialists, which is more +offensive than their pedantry, than their charlatanry, than their +hypocrisy, is their inquisitorial instinct for prying into other +people's lives. Whether Pablo Iglesias travels first or third class, has +been for years one of the principal topics of dispute between Socialists +and their opponents. + +Fifteen years ago I was in Tangier, where I had been sent by the +_Globo_, and, upon my return, a newspaper man who had socialistic +ideas, reproached me: + +"You talk a great deal about the working man, but I see you were living +in the best hotel in Tangier." + +I answered: "In the first place, I have never spoken of the workingman +with any fervour. Furthermore, I am not such a slave as to be too +cowardly to take what life offers as it comes, as you are. I take what I +can that I want, and when I do not take it, it is because I cannot get +it." + + + + +LOVE OF THE WORKINGMAN + + +To gush over the workingman is one of the commonplaces of the day which +is utterly false and hypocritical. Just as in the 18th century sympathy +was with the simple hearted citizen, so today we talk about the +workingman. The term workingman can never be anything but a grammatical +common denominator. Among workingmen, as among the bourgeoisie, there +are all sorts of people. It is perfectly true that there are certain +characteristics, certain defects, which may be exaggerated in a given +class, because of its special environment and culture. The difference in +Spanish cities between the labouring man and the bourgeoisie is not very +great. We frequently see the workingman leap the barrier into the +bourgeoisie, and then disclose himself as a unique flower of knavery, +extortion and misdirected ingenuity. Deep down in the hearts of our +revolutionists, I do not believe that there is any real enthusiasm for +the workingman. + +When the bookshop of Fernando Fé was still fin the Carrera de San +Jerónimo, I once heard Blasco Ibáñez say with the cheapness that is his +distinguishing trait, laughing meanwhile ostentatiously, that a republic +in Spain would mean the rule of shoemakers and of the scum of the +streets. + + + + +THE CONVENTIONALIST BARRIOVERO + + +Barriovero, a conventionalist, according to Grandmontagne--yes, and how +keen the scent of this American for such matters!--attended the opening +of a radical club in the Calle del Príncipe with a party of friends. We +were all drinking champagne. Like other revolutionists and parvenus +generally, Lerroux is a victim of the superstition of champagne. + +"Aha, suppose those workingmen should see us drinking champagne!" +suggested some one. + +"What of it?" asked another. + +"I only wish for my part," Barriovero interrupted with a show of +sentiment, "that the workingman could learn to drink champagne." + +"Learn to drink it?" I burst out, "I see no difficulty about that. He +could drink champagne as well as anything else." + +"Not at all," said Barriovero the conventionalist, very gravely. "He has +the superstition of the peasant; he thinks he must leave enough wine to +cover the bottom of the glass." + +I doubt whether this observation will attract the attention of any +future Plutarch, although it might very well do so, as it expresses most +I clearly the distinction which exists in the minds of our +revolutionists between the workingman and the young gentleman. + + + + +ANARCHISTS + + +I have had a number of acquaintances among anarchists. Some of them are +dead; the majority of the others have changed their ideas. It is +apparent nowadays that the anarchism of Reclus and Kropotkin is out of +date, and entirely a thing of the past. The same tendencies will +reappear under other forms, and present new aspects. Among anarchists, I +have known Elysée Reclus, whom I met in the editorial offices of a +publication called _L'Humanité Nouvelle_, which was issued in Paris +in the Rue des Saints-Pères. I have also met Sebastien Faure during a +mass meeting organized in the interests of one Guerin, who had taken +refuge in a house in the Rue de Chabrol some eighteen or twenty years +ago. I have had relations with Malatesta and Tarrida del Marmol. As a +matter of fact, both these anarchists escorted me one afternoon from +Islington, where Malatesta lived, to the door of the St. James Club, one +of the most aristocratic retreats in London, where I had an appointment +to meet a diplomat. + +As for active anarchists, I have known a number, two or three of whom +have been dynamiters. + + + + +THE MORALITY OF THE ALTERNATING PARTY SYSTEM + + +The only difference between the morality of the Liberal party and that +of the Conservative party is one of clothes. Among Conservatives the +most primitive clout seems to be slightly more ample, but not noticeably +so. + +The preoccupations of both are purely with matters of style. The only +distinction is that the Conservatives make off with a great deal at +once, while the Liberals take less, but do it often. + +This is in harmony with the law of mechanics according to which what is +gained in force is lost in velocity and what is gained in intensity is +lost in expansion. After all, no doubt morality in politics should be a +negligible quantity. Honest, upright men who hearken only to the voice +of conscience, never get on in politics, neither are they ever +practical, nor good for anything. + +To succeed in politics, a certain facility is necessary, to which must +be added ambition and a thirst for glory. The last is the most innocent +of the three. + + + + +ON OBEYING THE LAW + + +It is safe, it seems to me, to assume the following axioms: First, to +obey the law is in no sense to attain justice; second, it is not +possible to obey the law strictly, thoroughly, in any country in the +world. + +That obeying the law has nothing to do with justice is indisputable, and +this is especially true in the political sphere, in which it is easy to +point to a rebel, such as Martínez Campos, who has been elevated to the +plane of a great man and who has been immortalized by a statue upon his +death, and then to a rebel such as Sánchez Moya, who Was merely shot. +The only difference between the men was in the results attained, and in +the manner of their exit. + +Hence I say that Lerroux was not only base, but obtuse and absurdly +wanting in human feeling and revolutionary sympathy, when he concurred +in the execution of the stoker of the "Numancia." + +If law and justice are identical and to comply with the law is +invariably to do justice, then what can be the distinction between the +progressive and the conservative? On the other hand, the revolutionist +has no alternative but to hold that law and justice are not the same, +and so he is obliged to subscribe to the benevolent character of all +crimes which are altruistic and social in their purposes, whether they +are reactionary or anarchistic in tendency. + +Now the second axiom, which is to the effect that there is no city or +country in the world in which it is possible to obey the law thoroughly, +is also self-evident. A certain class of common crimes, such as robbery, +cheating and swindling, murder and the like, are followed by a species +of automatic punishment in all quarters of the civilized world, in spite +of exceptions in specific cases, which result from the intervention of +political bosses and similar influences; but there are other offenses +which meet with no such automatic punishment. In these pardon and +penalty are meted out in a spirit of pure opportunism. + +I was discussing Zurdo Olivares one day with Emiliano Iglesias in the +office of _El Radical_, when I asked him: + +"How was it that Zurdo Olivares could save himself after playing such an +active role in the tragic week at Barcelona?" + +"Zurdo's salvation was indirectly owing to me," replied Iglesias. + +"But, my dear sir!" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"How did that happen?" + +"Very naturally. There were three cases to be tried; one was against +Ferrer, one against Zurdo, and another against me. A friend who enjoyed +the necessary influence, succeeded in quashing the case against me, as a +matter of personal favour, and as it seemed rather barefaced to make an +exception alone in my favour, it was decided to include Zurdo Olivares, +who, thanks to the arrangement, escaped being shot." + +"Then, if an influential friend of yours had not been a member of the +Ministry, you would both have been shot in the moat at Montjuich?" + +"Beyond question." + +And this took place in the heyday of Conservative power. + + + + +THE STERNNESS OF THE LAW + + +There are men who believe that the State, as at present constituted, is +the end and culmination of all human effort. According to this view, the +State is the best possible state, and its organization is considered so +perfect that its laws, discipline and formulae are held to be sacred and +immutable in men's eyes. Maura and all conservatives must be reckoned in +this group, and Lerroux too, appears to belong with them, as he holds +discipline in such exalted respect. + +On the other hand, there are persons who believe that the entire legal +structure is only a temporary scaffolding, and that what is called +justice today may be thought savagery tomorrow, so that it is the part +of wisdom not to look so much to the rule of the present as to the +illumination of the future. + +Since it is impossible to effect in practice automatic enforcement of +the law, especially in the sphere of political crimes, because of the +unlimited power of pardon vested in the hands of our public men, it +would seem judicious to err upon the side of mercy rather than upon that +of severity. Better fail the law and pardon a repulsive, bloody beast +such as Chato de Cuqueta, than shoot an addle-headed unfortunate such as +Clemente García, or a dreamer like Sánchez Moya, whose hands were +innocent of blood. + +It was pointed out a long time ago that laws are like cobwebs; they +catch the little flies, and let the big ones pass through. + +How very severe, how very determined our politicians are with the little +flies, but how extremely affable they are with the big ones! + + + + +XVII + +MILITARY GLORY + + +No, I have not made up my mind upon the issues of this war. If it were +possible to determine what is best for Europe, I should of course desire +it, but this I do not know, and so I am uncertain. I am preoccupied by +the consequences which may follow the war in Spain. Some believe that +there will be an increase of militarism, but I doubt it. + +Many suppose that the crash of the present war will cause the prestige +of the soldier to mount upward like the spray, so that we shall have +nothing but uniforms and clanking of spurs throughout the world very +shortly, while the sole topics of conversation will be mortars, +batteries and guns. + +In my judgment those who take this standpoint are mistaken. The present +conflict will not establish war in higher favour. + +Perhaps its glories may not be diminished utterly. It may be that man +must of necessity kill, burn, and trample under foot, and that these +excesses of brutality are symptoms of collective health. + +Even if this be so, we may be sure that military glory is upon the eve +of an eclipse. + +Its decline began when the professional armies became nothing more than +armed militia, and from the moment that it became apparent that a +soldier might be improvised from a countryman with marvellous rapidity. + + + + +THE OLD-TIME SOLDIER + + +Formerly, a soldier was a man of daring and adventure, brave and +audacious, preferring an irregular life to the narrowing restraints of +civil existence. + +The old time soldier trusted in his star without scruple and without +fear, and imagined that he could dominate fate as the gambler fancies +that he masters the laws of chance. + +Valour, recklessness, together with a certain rough eloquence, a certain +itch to command, lay at the foundation of his life. His inducements were +pay, booty, showy uniforms and splendid horses. The soldier's life was +filled with adventure, he conquered wealth, he conquered women, and he +roamed through unknown lands. + +Until a few years ago, the soldier might have been summed up in three +words: he was brave, ignorant and adventurous. + +The warrior of this school passed out of Europe about the middle of the +19th Century. He became extinct in Spain at the conclusion of our Second +Civil War. + +Since that day there has been a fundamental change in the life of the +soldier. + +War has taken on greater magnitude, while the soldier has become more +refined, and it is not to be denied that both war and the fighting man +are losing their traditional prestige. + + + + +DOWN GOES PRESTIGE + + +The causes of this diminution of prestige are various. Some are moral, +such as the increased respect for human life, and the disfavour with +which the more aggressive, crueler qualities have come to be regarded. +Others, however, and perhaps these are of more importance, are purely +esthetic. Through a combination of circumstances, modern warfare, +although more tragic than was ancient warfare, and even more deadly, +nevertheless has been deprived of its spectacular features. + +Capacity for esthetic appreciation has its limits. Nobody is able to +visualize a battle in which two million men are engaged; it can only be +imagined as a series of smaller battles. In one of these modern battles, +substantially all the traditional elements which we have come to +associate with war, have disappeared. The horse, which bulks so largely +in the picture of a battle as it presents itself to our minds, scarcely +retains any importance at all; for the most part, automobiles, bicycles +and motor cycles have taken its place. These contrivances may be useful, +but they do not make the same appeal to the popular imagination. + + + + +SCIENCE AND THE PICTURESQUE + + +Upon taking over warfare, science stripped it of its picturesqueness. +The commanding general no longer cavorts upon his charger, nor smiles as +the bullets whistle about him, while he stands surrounded by an +ornamental general staff, whose breasts are covered with ribbons and +medals representing every known variety of hardware, whether monarchical +or republican. + +Today the general sits in a room, surrounded by telephones and telegraph +apparatus. If he smiles at all, it is only before the camera. + +An officer scarcely ever uses a sword, nor does he strut about adorned +with all his crosses and medals, nor does he wear the resplendent +uniforms of other days. On the contrary, his uniform is ugly and dirt +coloured, and innocent of devices. + +This officer is without initiative, he is subordinated to a fixed +general plan; surprises on either one side or the other, are almost out +of the question. + +The plan of battle is rigid and detailed. It permits neither originality +nor display of individuality upon the part of the generals, the lesser +officers, or the private soldiers. The individual is swallowed up by the +collective force. Outstanding types do not occur; nobody develops the +marked personality of the generals of the old school. + +Besides this, individual bravery, when not reinforced by other +qualities, is of less and less consequence. The bold, adventurous youth +who, years ago, would have been an embryo Murat, Messina, Espartero or +Prim, would be rejected today to make room for a mechanic who had the +skill to operate a machine, or for an aviator or an engineer who might +be capable of solving in a crisis a problem of pressing danger. + +The prestige of the soldier, even upon the battle field, has fallen +today below that of the man of science. + + + + +WHAT WE NEED TODAY + + +There are still some persons of a romantic turn of mind who imagine that +none but the soldier who defends his native land, the priest who +appeases the divine wrath and at the same time inculcates the moral law, +and the poet who celebrates the glories of the community, are worthy to +be leaders of the people. + +But the man of the present age does not desire any leaders. + +He has found that when someone wears red trousers or a black cassock, or +is able to write shorter lines than himself, it is no indication that he +is any better, nor any braver, nor any more moral, nor capable of deeper +feeling than he. + +The man of today will have no magicians, no high priests and no +mysteries. He is capable of being his own priest, his own soldier when +it is necessary, and of fighting for himself; he requires no specialists +in courage, in morals, nor in the realm of sentiment and feeling. What +we need today are good men and wise men. + + + + +OUR ARMIES + + +Prussian militarism has been explained upon the theory that it was a +development consequent upon a realization of the benefits which had +accrued to Prussia through war. As a matter of fact, however, it is not +possible to explain all militarism in this way. Certainly in Spain +neither wars nor the army have been of the slightest benefit to the +country. + +If we consider the epoch which goes by the name of contemporary history, +that is to say from the French Revolution to the present time, we shall +perceive immediately that we have not been over fortunate. + +The French Republic declared war upon us in 1793. A campaign of +astuteness, a tactical warfare was waged by us upon the frontiers, upon +occasion not without success, until finally the French army grew strong +enough to sweep us back, and to cross the Ebro. + +We took part in the battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Spain presented a fine +appearance, she made a mighty gesture with her Gravinas, her Churrucas +and her Alavas, but the battle itself was a disaster. + +In 1808 the War of Independence broke out, providing another splendid +exhibition of popular fervour. In this war, the regular Army was the +force which accomplished least. The war took its character from the +guerrillas, from the dwellers in the towns. The campaign was directed by +Englishmen. The Spanish army suffered more defeats than it won +victories, while its administrative and technical organization was +deplorable. The intervention of Angoulême followed in 1823. The Army was +composed of liberal officers, but it contained no troops, so that all +they ever did was to retire before the enemy, as he was more numerous +and more powerful. + +The Spanish cause in America was hopeless before the fighting began. The +land was enormous, troops were few, and in large measure composed of +Indians. What the English were never able to do in the fulness of their +power, was not to be accomplished by Spaniards in their decadence. Our +First Civil War, which was fierce, terrible, and waged without quarter, +called into being a valorous liberal army, and soldiers sprang up of the +calibre of Espartero, Zurbano and Narváez, but simultaneously a powerful +Carlist army was organized under leaders of military genius, such as +Zumalacárregui and Cabrera. Victory for either side was impossible, and +the war ended in compromise. + +The Second Civil War also resulted in a system of pacts and compromises +far more secret than the Convention of Vergara. The Cuban war and the +war in the Philippines, as afterwards the war with the United States, +were calamitous, while the present campaign in Morocco has not one +redeeming feature. + +From the War of the French Revolution to this very day, the African War +has been the only one in which our forces have met with the slightest +success. + +Nevertheless, our soldiers aspire to a position of dominance in the +country equal to that attained by the French soldiers subsequent to +Jena, and by the Germans after Sedan. + +A WORD FROM KUROKI, THE JAPANESE + +"Gentlemen," said General Kuroki, speaking at a banquet tendered to him +in New York, "I cannot aspire to the applause of the world, because I +have created nothing, I have invented nothing. I am only a soldier." + +If these are not his identical words, they convey the meaning of them. + +This victorious, square-headed Mongolian had gotten into his head what +the dolichocephalic German blond, who, according to German +anthropologists is the highest product of Europe, and the brachycephalic +brunette of Gaul and the Latin and the Slav have never been able to +understand. + +Will they ever be able to understand it? Perhaps they never will be +able. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +When I sat down to begin these pages, somewhat at random, my intention +was to write an autobiography, accompanying it with such comments as +might suggest themselves. Looking continually to the right and to the +left, I have lost my way, and this book is the result. + +I have not attempted to correct or embellish it. So many books, trimmed +up nicely and well-padded, go to their graves every year to be forgotten +forever, that it has hardly seemed worth while to bedeck this one. I am +not a believer in _maquillage_ for the dead. + +Now one word more as to the subject of the book, which is I. + +If I were to live two hundred years at the very least, I might be able +to realize, by degrees, the maximum programme which I have laid down for +my life. As it scarcely seems possible that a man could live to such an +age, which is attained only by parrots, I find myself with no +alternative but to limit myself to a small portion of the introductory +section of my minimum programme, and this, as a matter of fact, I am +content to do. + +With hardship and effort, and the scanty means at my command, I have +succeeded in acquiring a house and garden in my own country, a +comfortable retreat which is sufficient for my needs. I have gathered a +small library in the house, which I hope will grow with time, besides a +few manuscripts and some curious prints. I do not believe that I have +ever harmed any man deliberately, so my conscience does not trouble me. +If my ideas are fragmentary and ill-considered, I have done my best to +make them sound, clear, and complete, so that it is not my fault if they +are not so. + +I have become independent financially. I not only support myself, but I +am able to travel occasionally upon the proceeds of my pen. + +A Russian publishing house, another in Germany, and another in the +United States are bringing out my books, paying me, moreover, for the +right of translation; and I am satisfied. I have friends of both sexes +in Madrid and in the Basque provinces, who seem already like old +friends, because I have grown fond of them. As I face old age, I feel +that I am walking upon firmer ground than I did in my youth. + +In a short time, what a few years ago the sociologists used to call +involution--that is, a turning in--will begin to take place in my brain; +the cranial sutures will become petrified, and an automatic limitation +of the mental horizon will soon come. + +I shall accept involution, petrification of the sutures and limitation +with good grace. I have never rebelled against logic, nor against +nature, against the lightning or the thunder storm. No sooner does one +gain the crest of the hill of life than at once he begins to descend +rapidly. We know a great deal the moment that we realize that nobody +knows anything. I am a little melancholy now and a little rheumatic; it +is time to take salicylates and to go out and work in the garden--a time +for meditation and for long stories, for watching the flames as they +flare upward under the chimney piece upon the hearth. + +I commend myself to the event. It is dark outside, but the door of my +house stands open. Whoever will, be he life or be he death, let him come +in. + + + + +PALINODE AND FRESH OUTBURST OF IRE + + +A few days ago I left the house with the manuscript of this book, to +which I have given the name of _Youth and Egolatry_, on my way to +the post office. + +It was a romantic September morning, swathed in thick, white mist. A +blue haze of thin smoke rose upward from the shadowy houses of the +neighbouring settlement, vanishing in the mist. Meanwhile, the birds +were singing, and a rivulet close by murmured in the stillness. + +Under the influence of the homely, placid country air, I felt my spirit +soften and grow more humble, and I began to think that the manuscript +which I carried in my hand was nothing more than a farrago of +foolishness and vulgarity. + +The voice of prudence, which was also that of cowardice, cautioned me: + +"What is the good of publishing this? Will it bring you reputation?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Have you anything to gain by it?" + +"Probably not either." + +"Then, why irritate and offend this one and that by saying things which, +after all, are nobody's business?" + +To the voice of prudence, however, my habitual self replied: + +"But what you have written is sincere, is it not? What do you care, +then, what they think about it?" + +But the voice of prudence continued: + +"How quiet everything is about you, how peaceful! This is life, after +all, and the rest is madness, vanity and vain endeavour." + +There was a moment when I was upon the point of tossing my manuscript +into the air, and I believe I should have done so, could I have been +sure that it would have dematerialized itself immediately like smoke; or +I would have thrown it into the river, if I had felt certain that the +current would have swept it out to sea. + + * * * * * + +This afternoon I went to San Sebastian to buy paper and salicylate of +soda, which is less agreeable. + +A number of public guards were riding together in the car on the way +over, along the frontier. They were discussing bull fighters, El Gallo +and Belmonte, and also the disorders of the past few days. + +"Too bad that Maura and La Cierva are not in power," said one of them, +who was from Murcia, smiling and exhibiting his decayed teeth. "They +would have made short work of this." + +"They are in reserve for the finish," said another, with, the solemnity +of a pious scamp. + +Returning from San Sebastian, I happened on a family from Madrid in the +same car. The father was weak, jaundiced and sour-visaged; the mother +was a fat brunette, with black eyes, who was loaded down with jewels, +while her face was made up until it was brilliant white, in colour like +a stearin candle. A rather good looking daughter of between fifteen and +twenty was escorted by a lieutenant who apparently was engaged to her. +Finally, there was another girl, between twelve and fourteen, flaccid +and lively as a still-life on a dinner table. Suddenly the father, who +was reading a newspaper, exclaimed: + +"Nothing is going to be done, I can see that; they are already applying +to have the revolutionists pardoned. The Government will do nothing." + +"I wish they would kill every one of them," broke in the girl who was +engaged to the lieutenant. "Think of it! Firing on soldiers! They are +bandits." + +"Yes, and with such a king as we have!" exclaimed the fat lady, with the +paraffine hue, in a mournful tone. "It has ruined our summer. I wish +they would shoot every one of them." + +"And they are not the only ones," interrupted the father. "The men who +are behind them, the writers and leaders, hide themselves, and then they +throw the first stones." + +Upon entering the house, I found that the final proofs of my book had +just arrived from the printer, and sat down to read them. + +The words of that family from Madrid still rang in my ears: "I wish they +would kill every one of them!" + +However one may feel, I thought to myself, it is impossible not to hate +such people. Such people are natural enemies. It is inevitable. + +Now, reading over the proofs of my book, it seems to me that it is not +strident enough. I could wish it were more violent, more anti-middle +class. + +I no longer hear the voice of prudence seducing me, as it did a few days +since, to a palinode in complicity with a romantic morning of white +mist. + +The zest of combat, of adventure stirs in me again. The sheltered +harbour seems a poor refuge in my eyes,--tranquillity and security +appear contemptible. + +"Here, boy, up, and throw out the sail! Run the red flag of revolution +to the masthead of our frail craft, and forth to sea!" + +Itzea, September, 1917. + + + + +APPENDICES + + +SPANISH POLITICIANS + +ON BAROJA'S ANARCHISTS + +NOTE + + + + +SPANISH POLITICIANS + + +The Spanish alternating party system has prevailed as a national +institution since the restoration of the monarchy under Alfonso XII. +Ostensibly it is based upon manhood suffrage, and in the cities this is +the fact, but in the more remote districts the balloting plays but small +part in the returns. Upon the dissolution of the Cortes and the +resignation of a ministry, one of the two great parties--the liberal +party and the conservative party--automatically retires from power, and +the other succeeds it, always carrying the ensuing elections by +convenient working majorities. + +Spain is a poor country. During the half century previous to the +restoration of the Bourbons, she was a victim of internecine strife and +factional warfare. She is not poor naturally, but her energy has been +drawn off; she has been bled white, and needs time to recuperate. The +Spaniards are a practical people. They realize this condition. Even the +lower classes are tired of fine talking. No people have heard more, and +none have profited less by it. The country is not like Russia, a fertile +field for the agitator; it looks coldly upon reform. Such response as +has been obtained by the radical has come from the labour centres under +the stimulus of foreign influences, and more particularly from +Barcelona, where the problem is political even before it is an +individual one. + +For this reason the Spanish Republicans are in large part theorists. The +land has been disturbed sufficiently. They would hesitate to inaugurate +radical reforms, if power were to be placed in their hands, while the +possession of power itself might prove not a little embarrassing. Behind +the monarchy lies the republic of 1873, behind Cánovas and Castelar, Pí +y Margall; the republic has merged into and was, in a sense, the +foundation of the constitutional system of today. Even popular leaders +such as Lerroux are quick to recognize this fact, and govern themselves +accordingly. The lack of general education today, would render any +attempt at the establishment of a thorough-going democracy insecure. + +Francisco Ferrer, although idealized abroad, has been no more than a +symptom in Spain. Such men even as Angel Guimerá, the dramatist, a +Catalan separatist who has been under surveillance for years, or Pere +Aldavert, who has suffered imprisonment in Barcelona because of his +opinions, while they speak for the proletariat, nevertheless have had +scant sympathy for Ferrer's ideas. It would be interesting to know just +to what extent these commend themselves to Pablo and Emiliano Iglesias +and the professed political Socialists. + +Of the existing parties, the Liberal, being more or less an association +of groups tending to the left, is the least homogeneous. Its most +prominent leader of late years has been the Conde de Romanones, who may +scarcely be said to represent a new era. He has shared responsibility +with Eduardo Dato. + +Among Conservatives, the chief figure has long been Antonio Maura. He is +not a young man. Politically, he represents very much what the cordially +detested Weyler did in the military sphere. But Maurism today is a very +different thing from the Maurism of fifteen years ago, or of the moat of +Montjuich. The name of Maura casts a spell over the Conservative +imagination. It is the rallying point of innumerable associations of +young men of reactionary, aristocratic and clerical tendencies +throughout the country, while to progressives it symbolizes the +oppressiveness of the old régime. + + + + +ON BAROJA'S ANARCHISTS + + +Baroja's memoirs afford convincing proof of his contact with radicals of +all sorts and classes, from stereotyped republicans such as Barriovero, +or the Argentine Francisco Grandmontagne, correspondent of _La +Prensa_ of Buenos Aires, to active anarchists of the type of Mateo +Morral. + +Morral was an habitué of a cafe in the Calle de Alcalá at Madrid, where +Baroja was accustomed to go with his friends to take coffee, and, in the +Spanish phrase, to attend his _tertulia_. Morral would listen to +these conversations. After his attempt to assassinate the King and Queen +in the Calle Mayor on their return from the Royal wedding ceremony, +Baroja went to view Morral's body, but was refused admittance. A drawing +of Morral was made at the time, however, by Ricardo Baroja. + +In this connection, José Nakens, to whom the author pays his compliments +on an earlier page, was subjected to an unusual experience. Nakens, who +was a sufficiently mild gentleman, had taken a needy radical into his +house, and had given him shelter. This personage made a point of +inveighing to Nakens continually against Cánovas del Castillo, proposing +to make way with him. When the news of the assassination of Cánovas was +cried through the city, Nakens knew for the first that his visitor had +been in earnest. He was none other than the murderer Angiolillo. + +This anecdote became current in Madrid. Years afterwards when the prime +minister Canalejas was shot to death, the assassin recalled it to mind, +and repaired to the house of Nakens, who saw in dismay for the second +time his radical theories put to violent practical proof. The incident +proved extremely embarrassing. + +The crime of Morral forms the basis of Baroja's novel _La Dama +Errante_. He has also dealt with anarchism in _Aurora Roja_ (Red +Dawn). + +The mutiny on the ship "Numancia," referred to in the text, was an +incident of the same period of unrest, which was met with severe +repressive measures. + + + + +NOTE + + +The Madrid Ateneo is a learned society maintaining a house on the Calle +del Prado, in which is installed a private library of unusual +excellence. It has been for many years the principal depository of +modern books in Spain, and a favourite resort of scholars and research- +workers of the capital. + + + + +THE WORKS OF PÍO BAROJA + + +Pío Baroja, recognized by the best critics as the foremost living +Spanish novelist, is without doubt the chief exponent of that ferment of +political and social thought in Spain which had its inception in the +cataclysm of 1898, and which gave rise to the new movement in Spanish +literature. + +Of course this "modern movement" was not actually born in 1898. It dates +back as far as Galdós, who is in spirit a modern. But it marked the +turning point. Benavente the dramatist, Azorín the critic, Rubén Darío +the poet, Pío Baroja the novelist, all date from this period, belonging +to and of the new generation, and, together with the Valencian Blasco +Ibáñez, form the A B C of modern Spanish culture. + +"Baroja stands for the modern Spanish mind at its most enlightened," +says H. L. Mencken. "He is the Spaniard of education and worldly wisdom, +detached from the mediaeval imbecilities of the old regime and yet aloof +from the worse follies of the demagogues who now rage in the country ... +the Spaniard who, in the long run, must erect a new structure of society +upon the half archaic and half Utopian chaos now reigning in the +peninsular." + +Pío Baroja was born in 1872 at San Sebastian, the most fashionable +summer resort of Spain, the Spanish "Summer Capital." Baroja's father +was a noted mining engineer, and while without reputation as a man of +letters he was an occasional contributor to various periodicals and +dailies. He had destined his son for the medical profession, and Pío +studied at Valencia and Madrid, where he received his degree. He started +practice in the small town of Cestona, the type of town which figures +largely in his novels. + +But the young doctor soon wearied of his profession, and laying aside +his stethoscope forever, he returned to Madrid, where, in partnership +with an older brother, he opened a bakery. However he was no more +destined to be a cook than a doctor, so, encouraged by interested +friends, he succeeded in getting a few articles and stories accepted by +various Madrid papers. It was not long before he won distinction as a +journalist, and he presently abandoned baking entirely, devoting all his +energies to writing. + +His first novel, _Camino de Perfección_, published in 1902, was +received with but little enthusiasm. However he closely followed it with +several others, and Spain soon realized that she had a new writer of +unusual merit. Today he is pre-eminent among contemporary Spanish +authors. His books have been translated into French, German, Italian and +English. + +Alfred A. Knopf, Señor Baroja's authorized publisher in the English- +speaking countries, has published to date two of the novels: + +THE CITY OF THE DISCREET. Translated by Jacob S. Fassett, Jr. $2.00 net. +Around Cordova, the fascinating and romantic "city of the discreet," +Baroja has spun an adventurous tale. He gives you a vivid picture of the +city with her tortuous streets, ancient houses with their patios and +tiled roofs and of her "discreet" inhabitants. In a style that is +polished where Ibáñez' is crudely vigorous, and with sympathy and +understanding, he portrays Quentin, the natural son of a Marquis and a +woman of humble birth; Pacheco, the ambitious bandit chief; Don Gil +Sabadia, the garrulous and convivial antiquarian, and a host of other +characters. + +"Unforgettable pictures are spread in a rich background for the action-- +Cordova at twilight, with its spires showing against the violet sky, the +narrow streets with white houses leaning toward each other, its squares +with sturdy beggars squatting around and its gardens heavy with the +scent of orange blossoms, where old fountains quietly drip."-- +_Indianapolis News_. + +"This fine novel ... shows us the best features of the modern Spanish +realistic school."--_The Bookman_. + +CAESAR OR NOTHING. Translated by Louis How. $2.00 net. + +This is the story of Caesar Moncada, a brilliantly clever young +Spaniard, who sets out to reform his country, to modernize it and its +government. In depicting Caesar's preparation in Rome, where his uncle +is a Cardinal, for the career he has planned for himself, Señor Baroja +etches vividly and entertainingly a typical cosmopolitan society--witty, +worldly, prosperous and cynical. The second part of the book describes +Caesar's political fight in Castro Duro. + +"Not only Spain's greatest novelist, but his greatest book. It is the +most important translation that has come out of Spain in our time in the +field of fiction and it will be remembered as epochal."--JOHN GARRETT +UNDERHILL, Representative in America of the Society of Spanish Authors +of Madrid. + +"Ranks Baroja as a master of fiction, with a keen sense of character, +constructive power and an active, dynamic style."--_Philadelphia +Ledger_. + +"I read _Caesar or Nothing_ with a profound admiration for its +power and skill. It is a great novel, which you deserve our thanks for +publishing."--HAROLD J. LASKI, of Harvard University. + +"A brilliant book--amazingly clever and humorous in its earlier +chapters, gradually accumulating depth as it moves along until it +becomes the stuff of tragedy at the close. The character he has created +in Caesar Moncada is one of the few really notable portrayals in recent +fiction."--_Chicago Post_. + +Translations of three other novels by Baroja are in preparation in the +competent hands of Dr. Isaac Goldberg. The first, _LA DAMA +ERRANTE_, will be ready in the Fall of 1920. Probable price, $2.00. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth and Egolatry, by Pío Baroja + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH AND EGOLATRY *** + +This file should be named 8yego10.txt or 8yego10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8yego11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8yego10a.txt + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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