The Spaniards of the days of Pizarro and Cortes, like their contemporaries, the English admirals, courted war as a mistress, and strove to meet her in their bravest array. The devoted attention they paid to their armour and the temper of their weapons excited the regretful admiration of their determined foe, old sea-dog Hawkins. The Castilian loved the glint of shimmering steel and the ring of a true forged blade on stout harness; his was a land of iron, and so long as the issue of the battle depended on the sword and the lance, he could defy Europe, and hold two Continents in fee. But the age of iron passed; with it passed that grand old craftsman, the armourer; and the day of Spain also, passed, for a while, into the grey evening of nations. For Spain, so faithfully wedded to its native arms, and so pre-eminent in their use, was slow to embrace the faith of explosives. Cervantes, in the following passage, which he puts into the mouth of Don Quixote, has left on record the aversion of his countrymen to the levelling-up influence of the rifle, and their exaggerated attachment to the weapons of chivalry: “Blessed be those happy ages that were strangers to the dreadful fury of those devilish instruments of artillery which is the cause that very often a cowardly base hind takes away the life of the bravest gentleman, and in the midst of that rigour and resolution which animates and inflames the bold, a chance bullet (shot perhaps by one that fled, and was frighted at the very flash the mischievous piece gave when it went off), coming nobody knows how or from whence, in a moment puts a period to the brave designs and the life of one that deserved to have survived many years. This considered, I could almost say I am sorry at heart for having taken on me this profession of a knight-errant in so detestable an age: for though no danger daunts me, yet it affects me to think that powder and lead may deprive me of the opportunity of becoming famous, and making myself known throughout the world by the strength of my arm and the dint of my sword.”