" One million of the best
citizens of Spain were thus torn from their homes and landed starving on
the wild African coast. And Te Deums were sung in the churches for this
triumph of Catholic unity. From that hour Spain has never prospered. It
seems as if she were lying ever since under the curse of these breaking
hearts.
Passing by a world of artistic beauties which never tire the eyes, but
soon would tire the chronicler and reader, stepping over the broad
bronze slab in the floor which covers the dust of the haughty primate
Porto Carrero, but which bears neither name nor date, only this
inscription of arrogant humility, HIC JACET PULVIS CINIS ET NIHIL, we
walk into the verdurous and cheerful Gothic cloisters. They occupy the
site of the ancient Jewish markets, and the zealous prelate Tenorio,
cousin to the great lady's man Don Juan, could think of no better way of
acquiring the ground than that of stirring up the mob to burn the houses
of the heretics. A fresco that adorns the gate explains the means
employed, adding insult to the old injury. It is a picture of a
beautiful child hanging upon a cross; a fiendish-looking Jew, on a
ladder beside him, holds in his hand the child's heart, which he has
just taken from his bleeding breast; he holds the dripping knife in his
teeth. This brutal myth was used for centuries with great effect by the
priesthood upon the mob whenever they wanted a Jew's money or his blood.
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