To collect a mass of isolated and contradictory opinions concerning the Spanish is a comparatively simple task, although it is difficult or impossible to derive from them a consistent picture of Spanish character. To Wellington they are “this extraordinary and perverse people,” to whom to boast of Spain’s strength was a natural weakness. “Procrastination and improvidence are their besetting sins,” says Napier, and of their conduct in the Peninsular War: “Of proverbially vivid imagination and quick resentments, the Spaniards act individually rather than nationally, and, during this war, what appeared constancy of purpose was but a repetition of momentary fury generated like electric sparks by constant collision with the French.” “The Spaniards are perfect masters of saying everything and doing nothing.” They have dignified sentiments and lofty expressions, but taken with their deeds these are “but a strong wind blowing shrivelled leaves.” “In the arrangement of warlike affairs difficulties are always overlooked by the Spaniards, who are carried on from one phantasy to another so swiftly that the first conception of an enterprise is immediately followed by a confident anticipation of complete success.” Though they are “hasty in revenge and feeble in battle,” they are “patient to the last degree in suffering.” To the peasants he allows “a susceptibility of grand sentiments.” They “endure calamity, men and women alike, with a singular and unostentatious courage. But their virtues are passive, their faults active, and, instigated by a peculiar arrogance, they are perpetually projecting enterprises which they have not sufficient vigour to execute.” “To neglect real resources and fasten upon imaginary projects is peculiarly Spanish.” A French writer of the same period, General Marbot, contents himself with observing that the Spanish “ont beaucoup conservé du caractère des Arabes et sont fatalistes; aussi répétaient-ils sans cesse ‘Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar,’” but adds that “ils ont un mérite immense, c’est que, bien que battus, ils ne se découragent jamais.” Turning to earlier centuries we find that in Livy and Strabo the Spaniards are obstinate, unsociable, silent, dressed in black, despisers of death, very sober. In the centuries of Spain’s greatness the comments naturally thicken, although they are often not easily reconcilable. To an Italian, Paolo Cortese, at the beginning of the sixteenth century the Spanish are, in a shower of epithets, “ambitious, good-natured, curious, greedy, contentious, tenacious, magnificent, suspicious, sly.” Another Italian, Paolo Tiepolo, later draws a distinction[1] between those who have travelled and those who have not left Spain, those former being “per la maggior parte avvisati, diligenti, tolleranti.” In Pepys we read of the “ceremoniousness of the Spaniards,” and that “the Spaniards are the best disciplined foot in the world; will refuse no extraordinary service if commanded, but scorn to