who, being a foreigner, would attempt to understand Spanish politics,
deserves to be classed with the bravest leaders of forlorn hopes. In the
first place, it is doubtful whether Spaniards understand them
themselves, although they talk, for the most part, of nothing
else--except bulls. Whenever and wherever two or three men or boys are
gathered together, you may be quite certain as to the subject of their
conversation--that is, if they show signs of excitement and interest in
the matter under discussion. Each man you meet gives you the whole
matter in a nut-shell: he has studied politics ever since he was able to
talk; all the other innumerable parties besides his own are _nada_! he
can tell you exactly what is wrong with his country, and, what is more,
exactly how it may all be made right. The only thing which puzzles one
is that all the nut-shells are different, and, as there are an unlimited
number of them, all that one carefully learns to-day has to be as
carefully unlearned to-morrow, and a fresh adjustment made of one's
political spectacles. After all, however, this is very much what would
happen in any country if we were in turn to sit at the feet of
successive teachers, and try to bring their doctrines into any kind of
accord. The peculiarity in Spain lies rather in the multiplicity of
private political opinions and the energy with which they are expressed,
and in the fact that they are all honest.

Emerson has somewhere said that "inconsistency is the bugbear of little
minds." The Spanish politician has evidently not a little mind, for he
has no fear whatever of inconsistency, nor, in fact, of making a
_volte-face_ whenever he sees any reason for doing so. There are
Conservatives, Liberals, Republicans, Radicals, Socialists, as in other
countries, but there are, besides all these, an infinite number of
shades and tones of each political belief, each represented, as we have
seen, by a newspaper of its own, and, for the most part, bearing the
name of one man. It would seem, then, that you have only to make
yourself acquainted with the opinions, or rather with the political
acts, of that one man, and there you are! Vain and fond fancy! He has
been a rabid Republican, perhaps, or he has belonged, at least, to the
party which put up in Madrid in conspicuous letters, "The bastard race
of the Bourbons is for ever fallen. Fit punishment of their obstinacy!"
but you will find him to-day lending all the force of his pape