uninhabited; many of the old towns had disappeared, the roads were obliterated and no one in Spain knew for certain the geography of the country though few were ignorant of the situation of heaven and of purgatory.  The farms of any fertility were not occupied by granges but by convents, and along the few highways bivouacked bands of robbers, who took refuge, when they found themselves pursued, in the monasteries, where they were welcomed for their piety, and for the many masses they ordered for their sinful souls.

“The ignorance was atrocious, the kings were advised even in warlike matters by priests.  Charles II., when the Dutch troops offered to garrison the Spanish towns in Flanders, consulted with the clerics as on a case of conscience, because this might facilitate the diffusion of heresy, and he ended by preferring to let them fall into the hands of the French, who, although they were enemies, were at all events Catholics.  In the university of Salamanca the poet Torres de Villarroel could not find a single work on geography, and when he spoke of mathematics, the pupils assured him it was a kind of sorcery, a devilish science that could only be understood by anointing oneself with an ointment used by witches.  The theologians rejected the project of a canal to unite the Tagus and the Manzanares, saying that this would be a work against the will of God; but having laid this down—­fiat—­the two rivers joined themselves even though they had been separated from the beginning of the world.  The doctors of Madrid begged Philip IV. to allow the refuse to remain in the streets ’because the air of the town being exceedingly keen, it would cause great ravages unless it were impregnated with the vapours from the filth,’ and a century later, a famous theologian in Seville registered in a public document with those who were discussing with him, ’that we would far rather err with Saint Clement, Saint Basil and Saint Augustin, than agree with Descartes and Newton.’

“Philip II. had threatened with death and confiscation anyone who published foreign books or who circulated manuscripts, and his successors forbade any Spaniard to write on political subjects, so, finding no ways of expansion for thought, they devoted themselves to fine arts and poetry; painting and the theatre rose to a higher level than in any other country; they were the safety valves of the national genius; but this spring of art was only ephemeral, for in the midst of the seventeenth century a grotesque and debasing decadence overwhelmed everything.

“The poverty in those centuries was horrible; that same Philip II., though he was lord of the world, put up titles of nobility for sale for the sum of six thousand reals, noting on the margin of the decree ’that it was not necessary to inquire much into the quality and origin of the people.’  In Madrid the people sacked the bakeries, fighting with their fists for the bread.  The president of Castille travelled through the province with the