MY MEETINGS WITH KING ALFONSO
While the exiled Prince Imperial was at the Royal Military Academy at
Woolwich another exiled Royal Prince, in the person of Alfonso XII,
father of the present King and the successful claimant in the great
Carlist struggle, who came to his own in 1875, was undergoing training in
the Royal Military College, Sandhurst. I came to know him intimately
during his stay in England owing to the fact that the Count of Mirasol,
whose sister married my eldest brother, was his tutor and factotum.
I well remember what pleasure it was to me every time Mirasol asked me to
spend the week-end with Alfonso in town. It was winter time, and one of
our favourite resorts was Maskelyne and Cook's. We were never tired of
watching their wonderful tricks. One afternoon we went to their theatre,
the Hall of Mysteries, with two young nephews of mine who had just come
from Spain and did not know English. One of the feats we saw was that of
a man standing on a platform leading from the stage to the back of the
audience, and then rising when the lights were lowered towards the roof
of the building. The audience were warned to keep quiet and still while
this wonderful act took place. One of my young nephews, who had not
understood the warning given, happened to be next the platform. When the
lights were lowered and the man started on his aerial flight, my young
nephew took my walking stick and struck the uprising figure. The lights
went up and we were requested to leave the theatre. Alfonso protested,
but Mirasol assured him that discretion was the best part of valour.
On the evening of December 30, I think, I was invited to dinner by
Mirasol at Brown's Hotel, Dover Street. I was surprised that the
dinner-hour had been fixed at a quarter-past six p.m. I wondered where we
were going afterwards. Was it a theatre, or was it one of those quiet but
most enjoyable little dinners and dances which Alfonso's friends arranged
for him? In addition to the large number of wealthy Spaniards then living
in London, many families whose sympathies had bound them to the
monarchical cause had left Spain during the Republican _regime_ and made
London their home. I noticed when I arrived that Alfonso and Mirasol were
in ordinary day dress. I again wondered how we were to finish up the
evening.
It was at dinner that Mirasol said to me, "Jose Maria, you are in the
presence of the King of Spain." I rose and bowed to His Majesty. He stood
up and, taking both my hands in his, said, "At last I have attained my
throne. To-night I leave for Paris. My country wants me for its king.
You, Jose Maria, my friend, are the first in England to be told the good
news. I want you, my friend, to wish me 'todas felicidades' (all
happiness). We leave to-night. To-morrow my Army will proclaim me King of
Spain. Welcomed by the Army and the Civil Government, I will be received
at Barcelona with the acclamations of my subjects, and thence to my
capital, Madrid. To the members of your mother's family who, during the
sad years of my exile have so zealously devoted themselves to my cause, I
owe a deep debt of gratitude which I shall never forget."
I then told Alfonso that I had leave to go to Spain, my wish being to see
the fighting and to be in it; but that, quite in ignorance of the fact
that his succession to the throne was imminent, I had arranged to attach
myself to Don Carlos, as my cousins on my father's side were with him.
"Go, by all means," said Alfonso; "I know well that your father's family
have been zealous supporters of Don Carlos's cause. My country has been
rent for years by the devotion of our people whose sympathies have been
divided between Don Carlos and myself. Please God I may be able to unite
them for the future welfare of Spain. My first act as King of Spain will
be to offer a complete amnesty to all and one who cease their enmity to
myself and my Government and are willing to assist me in establishing law
and order and ensuring the happiness and prosperity of my countrymen, of
our glorious Spain. Go to Carlos, certainly, but in case you wish to
leave him and get some experience of our loyalist soldiers, Mirasol will
give you a letter now, which I will sign, and which will make you a
welcome guest of any of my generals. Good-bye. Come and see me, if you
have time, in Spain."
Mirasol gave me the letter and, with it in my pocket, I felt more than
satisfied that I had the chance of my life, a chance given to few men to
be a welcome guest in the field of battle of two opponents, one a king,
the other one who, for long years, had striven hard to be a king.
The carriage was waiting and we left Brown's Hotel for Charing Cross
Station. Next day, December 31, 1874, Alfonso was proclaimed King of
Spain. He landed at Barcelona on January 9, 1875.
For just a moment let me tell of Mirasol's sad end. For some time after
Alfonso's restoration to the throne mutinies of soldiers and civil
disturbances occurred throughout Spain. One of these mutinies took place
in the Artillery Barracks in Madrid. Mirasol was an Artillery officer,
and after the Coronation of Alfonso had again taken up his regimental
duties. He received a message at his home one morning that the men at the
barracks had mutinied. He started at once to the barracks, telling his
wife not to be anxious and by no means to leave the house till his
return. As he was approaching the barracks he was met by some of the
mutineers. They stabbed him to death on the pavement. His wife had not
paid heed to his request. She waited for a little time, and could not
resist her desire to follow him in spite of his advice. As she was
nearing the entrance to the barracks she met a crowd. She asked what was
happening. A bystander said, "The mutineers have just murdered the Count
of Mirasol. There he lies." Poor woman. Sad world, indeed.