Gregorio Fumagal is certain that not even the Cortes gathered in San Felipe Neri will change things. Is it not from a future Magna Carta–mainly written by clerics, which are half of the deputies, and by nobles addicted to the old regime or products of it –that will derive the hand that sweeps everything? In that way, with or without a Constitution, no matter how they disguise it, the Spaniard will continue to be a degraded captive, devoid of soul, reason, and virtue, whom his inhuman jailers never allow seeing the light. A wretched person unreservedly subjected to men equal to him, whose stupidity, indolence, or superstition presents them anointed by a higher order: gods on earth, ermine, purple, black mantles, and cassocks, that always took advantage of the error of man, under all suns and latitudes, to enslave him, to make him vicious and miserable, to corrupt his heroism and his courage.
From “The Siege” by Arturo Pérez-Reverte ( translated by Louis Villalba)
Perez-Reverte revisits the crucial moment the citizenry promulgated the first Constitution in the Spanish world that granted them rights like those in the US. The historic feat took place in my hometown, Cadiz, Spain, in 1812. But unfortunately, the king did away with it, lying and betraying his people. As a result, Spain became a second-class power. Perez-Reverte uses magnificent prose to recount the events and characterizes the typical Spanish pessimism that still lingers: “The Spaniard will continue to be a degraded captive, devoid of soul, reason, and virtue, whom his inhuman jailers never allow seeing the light. A wretched person unreservedly subjected to men equal to him, whose stupidity, indolence, or superstition presents them anointed by a higher order.”
Original text:
Gregorio Fumagal tiene la certeza de que ni siquiera las Cortes reunidas en San Felipe Neri cambiarán las cosas. No es de una futura carta magna, hecha en buena parte por clérigos —la mitad de los diputados lo son— y por nobles adictos al antiguo régimen o salidos de él, de donde vendrá la mano que lo barra todo. Por ese camino, con Constitución o sin ella, lo disfracen como lo disfracen, el español seguirá siendo un cautivo degradado, desprovisto de alma, razón y virtud, a quien sus inhumanos carceleros jamás permiten ver la luz. Un infeliz sometido sin reservas a hombres iguales a él, que su estupidez, indolencia o superstición le presentan ungidos por un orden superior: dioses sobre la tierra, armiño, púrpura, negro de mantos y sotanas, que siempre aprovecharon el error del hombre, bajo todos los soles y latitudes, para esclavizarlo, volverlo vicioso y miserable, corromper su heroísmo y su coraje.
