[Sidenote: [1788-1808 A.D.]]
Charles IV ascended the throne at the mature age of forty. The nation
entertained great expectations from their new king. His first measures
confirmed the hopes of those who confined their views to a continuation
and increase of the benefits conferred during Charles III’s reign, if
not the expectations of those who desired bolder innovations or of
those who regretted the days of inquisitorial omnipotence. He confirmed
Florida-Blanca in his post, and, at his suggestion, remitted considerable
arrears of taxes incurred by indigence, suspended the _alcabala_ upon
wheat, and adopted economical reforms for the purpose of saving out of
the annual expenditure of the country the means of liquidating the still
unpaid debts of the crown.
Charles further showed his good sense by amicably settling a dispute that
had arisen with England, at the price of partially abandoning a useless
extension of the monopoly claimed by Spain along the western coasts of
America. But from this period the history of Spain, as of every other
country in Europe, becomes involved with the extraordinary events taking
place in France on account of the French Revolution.[b] For a full
account of these events one must look in the history of France, only
those being recounted here which have a close bearing on Spain.[a]
[Sidenote: [1789-1792 A.D.]]
The relations of these neighbouring and long-allied countries, France and
Spain, were now of the strangest character. Hereditary affection attached
the two royal families to each other, and they were furthermore united
by ties of blood and community of interests. The king and especially the
Spanish ministers poured their fear-mingled hatred upon the national
assembly and the principles of the Revolution on every occasion.
France and the assembly which personified it had no more deadly enemy
than Florida-Blanca. He allied himself in turn with the emperor Leopold
in order to dictate to the French people the measure of reform they
required, and with the northern cabinets to force the assembly to destroy
its work with its own hands, and re-establish the absolute monarchy as it
existed before the Revolution. Finally he tried to reconcile the Grand
Turk with the empress Catherine to permit of Russia’s joining the other
continental monarchies in building a dike to resist the rush of the
revolutionary torrent.
But, during the interval, events had progressed; for after the French
king’s flight and his arrest at Varennes, the situation had become most
serious. Royalty was dead, but the king still lived, and an imprudent
step might compromise the threatened life. Florida-Blanca realised this
and refused to associate Spain with a counter-revolutionary plot which
was being organised in the south of France. But at the same time he sent
the national assembly a letter and pleaded the cause of the fugitive
king, prisoner in his own palace, in a tone which sounded more like a
threat than a prayer. The assembly, its dignity hurt, replied with a
scornful order of the day; and the breach between the two governments,
whose principles were so opposed, widened more than ever.
Not daring to declare war upon France, the imprudent minister declared
it at least upon the French in his own country; a decree ordered all
foreigners resident in Spain to take an oath of allegiance to the
Catholic faith, to the monarch and laws of the country, and to renounce
their nationality and call themselves Spaniards. This tyrannical measure,
apparently directed at all foreigners, was in fact aimed at the French
alone, who were established in the peninsula to the number of thirteen
thousand. The assembly was not deceived, and realised that, from that
time on, it had an avowed enemy in the Spanish minister.
The Pyrenees were frequently crossed by French emissaries charged
with the spreading of revolutionary doctrines to the peninsula.
Florida-Blanca, hard pressed, finally established a quarantine on the
frontier with the object of protecting Spain against the incendiary
propaganda. Under this pretext he was able to keep a sufficiently large
body of troops on the whole line of the Pyrenees to gain France’s
respect, lend a hand to anti-revolutionary plots in the south, and, in
case of invasion by northern powers, keep up a useful diversion in the
south and complete the blockade of France.[c]
THE RISE OF GODOY
[Sidenote: [1788-1792 A.D.]]
It becomes now necessary to disclose a scene of licentious turpitude,
such as we have long been spared in the annals of the court of Madrid.
Maria Louisa the queen of Charles IV had, from the very moment of her
marriage, betrayed a total disregard for the laws of conjugal fidelity,
and her notorious gallantries could scarcely be checked even by the
austerity of Charles III. That king, however, uniformly banished his
daughter-in-law’s lovers, as soon as the rumour of a new intrigue was
brought to him, whilst the prince of Asturias remained so blind to his
wife’s guilt that he frequently, though always in vain, supplicated
his father to recall persons whose society was peculiarly agreeable to
the princess. One of the paramours thus exiled was Luis de Godoy, the
eldest son of a noble but decayed family of Estremadura, who was serving
with his brothers in the ranks of the horse guards; and this young man,
anxious not to lose in absence the affections of the princess, employed
his brother, Don Manuel, to deliver secretly letters expressing his
constant passion and his lamentations over his banishment.
Don Manuel availed himself of the opportunity his office as
letter-carrier afforded him, to supplant his absent brother, and
thenceforward he held the exclusive possession of Maria Louisa’s heart.
She introduced her new favourite to the prince of Asturias, who soon
appeared to share his wife’s attachment for him; and when the death of
Charles III removed the only restraint upon her conduct, the queen hoped
to place Godoy at the head of the government. Charles IV would not,
however, violate the respect he owed to the memory of his father, by
displacing his minister. Florida-Blanca, as has been stated, retained the
supreme authority, and, for a while, Godoy was obliged to rest content
with inferior honours, unbounded influence over the queen, and the wealth
lavished upon him by both herself and her royal consort.
This state of affairs lasted till 1792, and during those three years
Florida-Blanca’s caution combined with Charles’ fears for Louis
XVI’s safety, to preserve peace between France and Spain. But the
restrictions imposed upon the intercourse between the two countries,
by inconveniencing trade, had created great dissatisfaction amongst
the Spaniards; and the queen and Godoy took care that not only their
murmurs, but various accusations, true or false, of malversation and
oppression, laid to the minister’s charge, should reach the king’s ear.
In February, 1792, Florida-Blanca, upon these imputations, was deprived
of his high office, and thrown into prison. As soon as it was thought no
danger existed of his recovering the king’s favour, he was released from
confinement.
[Illustration: CHARLES IV]
The fall of Florida-Blanca did not at once make way for Godoy’s
exaltation to his post. The count De Aranda, in his seventy-fourth year,
succeeded to the vacant premiership, May, 1792, and as a disciple, or at
least an admirer of French philosophy, urged his royal master to pursue
a more liberal course, to cultivate more zealously than heretofore the
friendship of then constitutional France. De Aranda repaid the queen’s
patronage by his concurrence in that showering of court favours upon
Godoy,[106] which his predecessor had offended her by opposing.[b]
But in the meantime events were developing so rapidly that diplomacy
followed them with difficulty. The two fatal days of June 20th and
August 10th caused that phantom of royal will still present in France
to disappear. Prussia and Austria, which had no interests to guard,
declared war on France immediately. The latter replied by doing away with
royalty, by beginning the trial of the king, a prisoner in the temple,
and thus broke, in the face of the whole world, with all the monarchies
in declaring herself their mortal enemy.
Charles IV, devoted like his father to the French royal family, was
broken-hearted over the insults and disgrace heaped upon the unfortunate
Louis XVI. De Aranda, whose connection with the French encyclopædists
wounded the double cult of the Spanish people for religion and monarchy,
found himself daily more estranged from his former friends. The French
ambassador, who had ceased all relations with the Madrid cabinet,
summoned Spain to choose between war and peace, and to make her choice
known.
The state council took up the questions and was not long in deciding in
favour of war. But France was acting while Spain was preparing to act,
and the blood-stained pages of this terrible history were unfolding one
after another. The massacre of prisoners in September was the Jacobins’
reply to the attacks of the allied monarchs, as well as the high-handed
challenge thrown to whosoever dared try to stop the progress of the
revolution. While waiting to be attacked from the south its arms were
triumphing in the north; the duke of Brunswick, in spite of his warnings
and proclamations, had been driven to shameful flight. In the face of
such a situation De Aranda drew back. Certainly it was neither courage
nor determination which failed him, but for him there was one matter
which overruled everything else, and that was the danger threatening
the life of the unhappy monarch. The minister of foreign affairs, Le
Brun, showed himself disposed to treat with Spain, but the convention
exacted before anything else that the Madrid cabinet should recognise the
republic.
For Charles IV to acknowledge the republic was to sanction the fall
of the Bourbons and the ruin of one of the princes of that family; it
would betray his affections and his dearest interests. Hard pressed by
disguised threats, the Spanish minister, in spite of his white hairs,
went so far as to declare that, if the sacred soil of his country was
invaded, he, the oldest officer in the army, would ask of his king a
drum and go from town to town sounding the call to arms. In the meantime
Charles IV had thought the matter over, and the desire to save Louis
XVI’s life overruled every other consideration. He decided to keep a
strict neutrality towards France. Moreover he was not ready for war,
and an army is not created in an instant, especially in Spain where
everything is done slowly and at great cost.[c] But at any rate the time
now seemed ripe to dismiss De Aranda from his post and call Godoy to his
place, De Aranda being permitted to keep the presidency of the council.
It was late in 1792 that the queen’s favourite became the king’s chief
agent.[a]
GODOY AS MINISTER, AND THE WAR WITH FRANCE
[Sidenote: [1792-1793 A.D.]]
The new minister’s task was far from easy. The ability of the most
experienced statesman would scarcely have been able to cope with the
events taking place in France with too rapid strides. The trial of the
unfortunate Louis XVI had begun and his life hung by a thread. The
great, the sole question for Charles IV was to save him. Godoy proposed
to offer France the mediation of the Madrid cabinet between herself and
the northern powers in place of De Aranda’s neutral policy; the basis
of negotiations to be the abdication of Louis XVI and the delivering
of hostages as a sign of good faith. An unlimited credit was opened
for Spain’s representative at Paris in order to buy up judges. But all
was useless. A letter from the Spanish minister to the convention was
returned by order of the day.
“France,” said a member, “can only treat with powers that have recognised
the republic.” Danton thundered against the audacity of the Spanish
government, and not even the reading of the letter was allowed. The
members who had held out their hands for Spanish gold were the first to
vote the death of the king. Finally, at the last moment, the Castilian
chargé d’affaires having again tried to intercede in favour of the royal
victim, Danton in anger proposed for this alone to declare war on Spain,
to punish her for daring to interfere in the affairs of the republic.
The king’s death on January 21st, 1793, of course cut short all
negotiations. The whole of Spain rose in horror and indignation at the
news. Godoy, not very scrupulous himself in matters of national honour,
exclaimed on learning the fatal news, “To-day a treaty of peace with
France would be an infamy; it would make us accomplices of a crime that
thrills Spain as it does the whole world.” De Aranda alone remained
faithful to his system of neutrality and to that utilitarian morale of
which England presents the most finished type. He addressed the king a
long memoir on the danger of a war for which Spain was not prepared. But
neutrality was but a dream in the present condition of minds and things
in Spain as well as in France.
The day after the king’s execution the French minister of foreign affairs
ordered his agents to declare war on every country which refused to
recognise the republic or treat with her. Thus did the Revolution throw
its challenge to Europe, and attacked so as not to be itself attacked. It
was no longer with kings but with peoples that it wished to deal. As for
Spain, neutrality and disarmament on both sides--that was the ultimatum
which Bourgoing offered Godoy, reserving to France the right to maintain
garrisons in the strongholds on the frontier.
The convention was the first in its declaration of war, drawn up by
Barère in the style of the period. “The intrigues of the court of
St. James,” it said, “have triumphed at Madrid. The papal nuncio has
sharpened the dagger of fanaticism in the states of the Catholic king.
The Bourbons must vanish from the throne they usurped, thanks to the
blood and gold of our ancestors.”
Spain responded by a firm but altogether moderate declaration of war. A
royal decree banished from the peninsula within three days all the French
who were not resident there. Moreover, this war, which De Aranda himself
was powerless to prevent, had become popular in Spain before it had been
declared; the gazettes were full of offers and contributions; there was
an outbreak of enthusiasm quite on a par with that of France.[c]
Toulon proclaimed the dauphin, as Louis XVII, according to the
constitution of 1791, and invited the united English and Spanish fleets
under Lord Hood and Don Juan de Langara, to take possession of their
town, port, and fortifications in his name. Charles likewise prepared to
invade France by land. A powerful Spanish army commanded by Ricardos,
governor of Catalonia, and reinforced with the Portuguese auxiliaries,
crossed the Pyrenees, and entered Roussillon. On the 22nd of June,
1793, they took Bellegarde, one of the strongest frontier fortresses,
afterwards occupying several places of less note, leaving them to winter
in force on the French territories. The Portuguese troops displayed great
gallantry in all these actions.
[Sidenote: [1793-1794 A.D.]]
But it was only in this southwestern portion of France that the ill
fortune of the republicans continued to the end of the year. In the
course of the autumn they everywhere else recovered their losses. Toulon
likewise was retaken.
In the year 1794, whilst France seemed most completely disorganised
and enfrenzied by Jacobinical fury and terror, her armies, rendered
well-nigh innumerable by the masses of population poured into her camps,
and led by generals, often of names till then unknown, who started up
either from the ranks or from professions and trades the least akin to
arms, were almost uniformly victorious. The prodigious reinforcements
sent, in the very beginning of the year, to the southwestern provinces
turned the fortune of war against the Spaniards and Portuguese. Early
in February they suffered two severe defeats near St. Jean-de-Luz. In
April the Spaniards were similarly vanquished in Roussillon, but still
occupied their principal conquests. Towards the latter end of that month,
however, the brave veteran, General Dugommier, was sent to supersede the
incompetent French commanders in Roussillon. The consequences were fatal
to the peninsular armies. In the beginning of May, Dugommier gained two
victories over them--one near Céret, and the other near Coullioure--in
which the baggage, equipage, and artillery of the defeated armies, with
about nine thousand prisoners, fell into the hands of the victors. The
remaining Spanish conquests in Roussillon surrendered.
Ricardos, whose military talents and experience had been one main cause
of Spanish success, was now no more. He was succeeded by the count de la
Union, a young grandee. He made a daring and vigorous effort to relieve
Bellegarde, but in the end was defeated, with the loss of twenty-five
hundred men, and compelled to retreat. Bellegarde capitulated on the 20th
of September, after a five months’ siege. General Dugommier immediately
entered Catalonia, and in the beginning of October again engaged La
Union, whom he again defeated, but purchased the victory with his own
life. His army followed the retreating enemy, and in the course of
a few days avenged their general’s death by that of the count de la
Union, and three more Spanish generals, who fell in another battle,
fought on the 20th of the same month, when the Spaniards were once more
beaten, and completely routed. The Spanish army sought shelter behind
the lines, which had, during the last six months, been diligently
prepared for the protection of Catalonia against an invading foe. These,
though defended by forty thousand men, and fortified with eighty-three
redoubts, the French, now commanded by General Pérignon, next attacked
with irresistible impetuosity, and carried in the space of three hours,
when, without further obstacle, they advanced upon Figueras. The works
of Figueras were deemed pretty nearly impregnable; it was abundantly
provided, and well garrisoned. But the panic that seems to have ensued
upon the count de la Union’s death, and that had facilitated the forcing
of the lines, had extended hither, and Figueras, to the astonishment even
of the besiegers, surrendered almost without resistance. Several places
in the north of Catalonia followed its example. At the western extremity
of the Pyrenees the French arms were equally successful.
Charles and his new minister, Godoy, were undismayed by these disasters.
They endeavoured to excite the population to rise in a mass against
the invaders. Their attempts were unavailing; and whilst the French
complained of the stupid and superstitious insensibility of the people,
whom their promises of liberty could not allure to join (fraternise, as
they called it) with them, the court of Madrid complained equally of
popular disaffection, as a main cause of the failure of their efforts to
defend the country. The nation seems, in fact, to have taken no interest
in the war. The nobles, however, and the clergy, including the orders of
knighthood and the monastic orders, were zealous in the cause, and freely
offered ample contributions from their salaries, ecclesiastical revenues,
commanderies, and private fortunes, to meet the exigency of the moment.
[Illustration: GODOY
(From an old print)]
[Sidenote: [1794-1795 A.D.]]
The misfortunes of the coalition on the eastern frontier of France were
not calculated to encourage the Spanish court in its determination to
resist. But the brilliant successes of the French by land were but
little compensated by their naval and colonial losses. The prince of
Orange and his family fled to England; and although Holland was not,
like the Netherlands, made nominally a French province, she was so in
effect, since, under the name of the Batavian Republic, she became
wholly dependent upon France, at whose disposal all Dutch resources, in
wealth, fleets, and colonies were placed. The fate of Spain was somewhat
different. The strong town of Rosas, in Catalonia, fell on the 5th of
January, 1795; after which four months passed in seeming inactivity, the
French preparing for their advance upon Madrid, and the Spanish court
vainly endeavouring to rouse the nation to resistance. Upon the 5th of
May the Spanish army was completely routed by the French near Sistella,
and with it the last hopes of Charles and Godoy fell.
Peace was now the only chance of escaping entire subjugation. The
disposition of the persons in power at Paris was accordingly sounded
through the American ambassador, and they were found willing to diminish
the number of their enemies. On the 22nd of July a treaty was signed, by
which France agreed to evacuate her conquests in Catalonia and Biscay;
and Spain, in return, ceded to France the portion of the island of
Santo Domingo that still belonged to her. Spain further promised to use
her utmost efforts to detach Portugal likewise from the coalition. The
conditions of this treaty were so much more favourable than Charles had
expected, that in his joy he rewarded the duke of Alcudia with the title
of Prince of the Peace [Principe de la Paz], by which he has ever since
been known--an honour the more remarkable, because, contrary to the usual
practice of the continent, in Spain as in England, the title of prince
had, till then, been practically confined to the royal family.[107] From
this period the whole system of Spanish policy was changed, and rendered
so entirely subservient to the views of France that Godoy has been
accused by his countrymen of corruption; there is certainly nothing in
his character or principles that renders it likely he should have scorned
a bribe. It is needless, nevertheless, to recur to such a suspicion
for the explanation of his conduct. Spain made peace because she could
not resist France; and the same weakness would induce her to submit to
the dictation of her powerful ally. Charles seems to have followed,
unresistingly, the impulses of his queen and favourite.
The Peace of Bâle was followed by the conclusion of a treaty with the
United States of North America, by which the Prince of the Peace agreed
to open the navigation of the Mississippi to the American Republic, and,
as far as the United States were concerned, to render New Orleans a free
port; measures equally beneficial to both parties.
SPAIN IN ALLIANCE WITH FRANCE AGAINST ENGLAND
[Sidenote: [1795-1797 A.D.]]
The Prince of the Peace strove to encourage arts and industry, and
especially sought to recover the breed of fine horses for which Andalusia
had formerly been renowned, and which, having been long neglected in the
prevalent passion for mules, had degenerated. He even attempted to oppose
the immense power and ever-accumulating wealth of the Spanish clergy.
But the arts of French diplomacy overbore Godoy’s steadiness in
preferring the real interests of Spain to hopes of sharing in the
military fame and the territorial aggrandisement of France. On the 19th
of August, 1796, a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, was
signed between France and Spain, by which it was stipulated that either
power, if engaged in a separate war, should be entitled to claim from
the other fifteen ships of the line, and twenty-four thousand soldiers;
and that if the two countries should be jointly engaged in war, all the
forces of both should act in common. It was further distinctly stated
in the treaty that these stipulations referred especially to England,
inasmuch as Spain had no cause of quarrel with any other enemy of France.
Two months after the signature of a treaty so incompatible with any views
of real neutrality, the Spanish court declared war against England, with
the usual accusations of contraband trade, and infringement upon colonial
rights. But Spain failed in her endeavours to detach Portugal from the
coalition, and to exclude English goods.
[Sidenote: [1797-1801 A.D.]]
By the Treaty of Campo-Formio (1797) Austria ceded the Netherlands to
France, and the Milanese to the new Cisalpine Republic, formed of all the
conquered or revolutionised Italian states. But all this prosperity was
for France, not for her allies. Since the commencement of hostilities the
Spanish fleets had, like the French, been blockaded in port by British
squadrons. Early in February, 1797, however, the Spanish admiral, Don
José de Cordova, at the head of twenty-seven sail of the line, made his
way out of Cartagena harbour, and passed the straits of Gibraltar in
search of the British fleet, which, relying upon his great superiority of
force, he hoped to annihilate. On the morning of the 14th Cordova came
in sight of the enemy he sought. Sir John Jervis, the English admiral,
had only fifteen sail of the line, but resolved, nevertheless, to give
battle, and endeavoured to compensate his great disparity of numbers by
a manœuvre somewhat analogous to those by which Bonaparte gained his
victories on land. He bore down with his whole force upon the Spaniards
before their line was formed, cut off one large division of their fleet,
and thus engaging upon less unequal terms, defeated Cordova, took four
large ships, and drove the rest into the port of Cadiz. He was ably
assisted in this bold attack by Commodore Nelson.
In Cadiz, Jervis (created Lord St. Vincent, in honour of his victory)
blockaded the Spanish fleet, still far more numerous than his own, and,
whilst he lay off the harbour, greatly harassed the coasting trade of
Spain. He likewise bombarded the town, but, though he thus did a good
deal of damage, produced no material result. Lord St. Vincent thought
to follow up his advantage in another direction, by sending Nelson with
a squadron to seize, if possible, both the town of Santa Cruz, in the
island of Teneriffe, and a valuable register ship then lying in the port
of that island. The attack was made with the daring intrepidity that
characterised all Nelson’s actions; but the admiral had been led to form
the scheme by false information as to the strength of the place. The
attempt failed, and cost as many lives as the preceding battle. Nelson
lost his arm. The Spaniards defended the fort with great gallantry, and
when the English abandoned their enterprise, displayed towards them all
kindness and courtesy. In the West Indies an expedition under Admiral
Harvey and General Sir Ralph Abercromby sailed from Martinique to attack
the island of Trinidad. Four sail of the line were voluntarily burned to
prevent their falling into the hands of the English, and the governor
capitulated the 18th of February. Encouraged by their success, Abercromby
and Harvey next attempted the stronger island of Porto Rico, but failed,
with considerable loss.
In the month of November General Stuart attacked Minorca, and after a
short resistance, the governor, Quesada, surrendered the island, upon
condition of being sent with his garrison to the nearest Spanish port.
This was pretty much the whole Spanish share in the war this year, beyond
the usual contribution of troops to the French armies. With the military
transactions of 1798-1799 Spain had no concern. Her merchant ships were
everywhere captured by British cruisers, as were the few armed vessels
necessarily sent to sea singly or in small detachments.
During the year 1800, Spain and Portugal had little to do but to observe
the change in the fortunes of France and her enemies, resulting from the
return of Bonaparte and his exaltation to the head of the government.
Bonaparte crossed the Alps, traversing the Great St. Bernard by ways
till then deemed hardly passable for single foot travellers, but over
which he actually transported his whole army, even artillery, and, by
the splendid victory of Marengo, recovering at once all losses in Italy,
re-established his Cisalpine Republic.
The first consul had already, in a secret treaty, extorted from his ally
Charles IV the cession of Louisiana; and he now required from Charles’
kinsman, the duke of Parma, the reversion of his duchy at his death to
the French Republic. In return, he bestowed Tuscany, under title of “the
kingdom of Etruria,” upon the duke’s eldest son, Luis, prince of Parma,
who had married a Spanish infanta. In April, 1801, the king and queen of
Etruria left Madrid, where they had resided since their marriage, to take
possession of their newly assigned dominions. They were directed by Godoy
to pass through Paris; and thus two Bourbon princes were the first of the
many sovereigns who, during Bonaparte’s reign, were required to present
their personal homage at the Tuileries.
[Sidenote: [1801-1802 A.D.]]
But Tuscany seems to have been judged more than compensation for Parma
and Louisiana; and Charles was expected to pay a yet higher price for
the kingdom bestowed upon one daughter and son-in-law, by assisting to
despoil another daughter and son-in-law of their patrimony. Affection
for the princess of Brazil and her children had urged the king of Spain
to make unusual exertions for the sake of warding off from Portugal the
effects of French enmity; and his troops, his fleets, and his American
gold had been found so useful that he had enjoyed sufficient influence
to render his mediation effectual with the Directory. But the peace
of Lunéville rendered the friendship of Spain less important; and
Bonaparte’s hatred of England was far more implacable than that of his
directorial predecessors. The first consul could not forgive Portugal’s
fidelity to her old ally; and now insisted upon Charles’ declaring war
against his son-in-law. The obstinate refusal of the court of Lisbon to
comply with the solicitations of the court of Madrid, detach itself from
England, and accept the alliance of France, was the ground of hostility
alleged in the Spanish manifesto.
This declaration was answered by a counter declaration from João, the
prince of Brazil; but for a while both parties seemed to rest content
with this paper war; and there can be no doubt that during their
constrained hostilities a perfectly good understanding existed between
the unwilling belligerents. The first consul was not to be thus deceived,
and he informed his ally that if Spain were not prepared to invade
Portugal, French troops should be sent to her assistance. To avoid
receiving such aid, if possible, the Prince of the Peace took the field
at the head of between thirty and forty thousand men, and entered the
Portuguese province of Alemtejo. The prince of Brazil thereupon summoned
the whole population of Portugal to arm in defence of the country, and
in person led an army against the invaders, but offered scarcely any
opposition to their progress. In little more than a fortnight the Spanish
reduced several fortified towns, and drove the Portuguese beyond the
Tagus. England afforded her faithful ally little succour, therefore,
beyond a subsidy of £300,000, and her permission and advice to make peace
upon the best terms obtainable. The plan of operations laid down by the
first consul had been that Spain should invade the southern and France
the northern provinces of Portugal; and a French army was now advancing
to execute its allotted task.
On the 28th of June, General Leclerc, having traversed Spain, crossed
the frontiers at the head of thirty thousand men, and laid siege to
Almeida; St. Cyr followed him with another corps. This was an invasion
of a different character from the last, and the Portuguese regent made
more vigorous efforts for defence. He now earnestly solicited the help
of England, and her troops took possession of the island of Madeira
to hold for him. But his best resource was another treaty of peace,
negotiated at Madrid between France and Portugal by the French and
Portuguese ambassadors to Spain, the consul’s brother, Lucien Bonaparte,
and Cipriano Ribeiro Freire. By this treaty, Dom João submitted to pay
£1,000,000 to France, and to surrender a considerable district in the
north of Brazil, the province called Portuguese Guiana, as far as the
mouth of the Amazon, in order to give extent and compactness to French
Guiana or Cayenne. No mention was made of the fortresses which had been
the pretext for this last French invasion.
By the treaties of Amiens (1802) and Lunéville (1801), the king of
Spain recovered Minorca, and saw the Parma branch of his family raised
from the ducal to the royal rank; the future heritage of his eldest
daughter’s children, Portugal, was redeemed from impending subjugation
at the price of some little spoliation, in which he himself shared. But
the greatest advantage the restoration of peace afforded him was the
cessation of the enormous drain upon his resources, naval, military, and
above all financial, which had lately reduced his dominions to a state of
lamentable exhaustion. The expenditure during the war had amounted to
four times the revenue; and only a long period of peace, together with
the most judicious system of economy and fiscal regulation, could have
reinstated Spain in anything like prosperity. Of this there could be no
hope, under the sway of Charles IV, or rather of his favourite Godoy.
THE AUTOCRACY OF GODOY
[Sidenote: [1797-1803 A.D.]]
The king’s attachment to his wife’s paramour bore almost as much the
character of passion as the queen’s. Godoy’s influence over the former
was not to be shaken by representations of his incapacity, or by court
cabal;[108] and over the queen it remained undiminished either by
jealousy or infidelity on either side, to the end of her life. To her
jealousy he owed an alliance with the royal family. He had formed a
criminal connection with a young lady of noble birth; and the queen, to
prevent his marrying her rival, persuaded the king to give him a princess
for his wife. For this purpose an illegal marriage, contracted by the
king’s uncle, Don Luis, a cardinal and archbishop of Toledo, with a lady
of the name of Vallabriga, was sanctioned, and its issue, a son and two
daughters, were recognised as infantes of Spain. The son succeeded his
father as archbishop of Toledo, and was made a cardinal; and the eldest
daughter was bestowed, as an infanta, upon the Prince of the Peace.
[Illustration: QUEEN MARIA LOUISA, WIFE OF CHARLES IV]
So splendid a marriage had no more effect than his intrigue with the
queen in restraining Godoy’s libertinism. It equalled his rapacity;
and the latter vice being almost glutted by the profusion of the royal
pair, his favour was most surely propitiated by those who had a handsome
sister, wife, or daughter to sacrifice to his appetite. The queen,
finding it impossible to rid herself of these innumerable rivals, sought
consolation in emulating his inconstancy. But it never required more
than a word from Godoy to have his rivals overthrown, and his political
opponents entangled in their own snares.
Such scenes of licentiousness could not be daily exhibited at court,
without producing the most noxious effect upon all who came within the
poisonous sphere of their influence. The higher orders were well-nigh
demoralised, and a shameless system of corruption pervaded every branch
of the administration, from the highest to the lowest throughout Spain;
evils compared with which the good really done by the Prince of the Peace
was but as dust in the balance.
When his connection by marriage with the royal family raised him above
any ministerial office, leaving him merely a sort of viceroy over the
whole Spanish monarchy, Godoy introduced some able men in his stead, such
as Saavedra and Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos, though the kingdom was not
long permitted to reap the benefit of their talents. Illness afforded
Saavedra a fair pretext for resigning an office which his difference in
opinion from Godoy would scarcely have suffered him to retain, and would
certainly have prevented his exercising according to his judgment and
conscience. Jovellanos incurred the hatred of the queen, by opposing
her constant interference in public affairs; that of Godoy, by joining
in a plot for the abridgment, if not overthrow of his power; he was in
consequence not only dismissed, but rigorously immured in a Carthusian
monastery in Majorca.[109]
The Prince of the Peace affected, in compliance with the fashion of the
day, to be a patron of the arts, of learning, and of modern improvements.
He commanded Pestalozzi’s new system of education to be adopted in Spain;
he recommended the general practice of vaccination, and despatched
vessels to all the colonies for the purpose of introducing that
preventive; and he encouraged to the utmost of his power the patriotic
or economical societies established under the name of Friends of the
Country, in order to promote agriculture, by diffusing the knowledge
of improved methods of tillage amongst the farmers, and assisting with
small loans such as were cramped in their operations by indigence. These
merits were, however, as has been said, nothing to counterbalance the
evils under which Spain laboured, and most of which were ascribed to the
profligate corruption of the court. The yellow fever, which in the years
1800 and 1801 ravaged and partially desolated the south of Spain by the
misery it occasioned, increased the prevailing dissatisfaction; and the
detestation of Godoy was excessive and universal.
By no one was the extent of his power more bitterly felt or his person
more abhorred than by Ferdinand, prince of Asturias. The education of
this prince had been purposely intrusted by the favourite to incapable
persons; the queen hated and persecuted a son upon whom she, perhaps,
looked as a future rival for power. As he advanced to manhood, the
adversaries of Godoy gathered around him, and Don Juan Escoiquiz, canon
of Toledo, the only man of any ability who had been placed about him,
became the head of a sort of party in favour of the prince of Asturias.
In 1802 all these persons, and indeed the country at large, looked
impatiently to Ferdinand’s marriage with Maria Antonia, daughter of the
king of Naples, as the era of some effective change in the court. But the
virtues and talents of Maria Antonia were altogether unavailing against
the arts of her mother-in-law and the influence of Godoy.
[Sidenote: [1803-1805 A.D.]]
Meanwhile the peace that had momentarily tranquillised Europe was
evidently upon the point of ceasing. A burst of passion on the first
consul’s part against Lord Whitworth, the English ambassador, on the
13th of March, 1803, astonished the diplomacy of Europe. On the 12th
of May, 1803, Lord Whitworth left Paris, and on the 18th the king of
England declared war against France. Spain and Portugal were permitted to
remain neutral, but were compelled to purchase that permission by heavy
sacrifices of both wealth and dignity. The pecuniary contributions drawn
by Bonaparte from Spain and Portugal, or wrung from the Hanse towns,
together with the produce of the sale of Louisiana to the United States
of North America, were applied to building and equipping the gunboats
with which he proposed to invade England.
The following year put an end to the neutrality of Spain. At first it
appeared as though she would once more take part against France, for
the court of Madrid vehemently objected to the sale of Louisiana to the
United States, as contrary to the secret conditions upon which that
province had been ceded to France. But the Prince of the Peace was
overawed or bribed by Bonaparte. He contented himself with objecting, and
immediately returned to his former subserviency.
The English envoy Frere was informed by the British admirals cruising off
the Spanish coast that an armament was fitting out at Ferrol, and that
indications of activity appeared in other ports, whilst French soldiers
and sailors were permitted to pass through Spain to recruit a French
fleet lying in a Spanish harbour.
The result of these suspicions was that the British ministry determined
upon the very extraordinary step of ordering, without any previous
declaration of war, the seizure of four Spanish frigates, then bringing
home freights of the precious metals and other valuable merchandise.
These ships were not, it is averred, to be captured as prizes, but in
order to be held as security for the future more impartial neutrality
of Spain. This measure, more in accordance with Bonaparte’s treatment
of neutrals than with the principles of international law, which
England professed to defend, was executed as feebly as it was, perhaps,
unwarrantably conceived. On the 5th of October an engagement ensued, that
ended by the blowing up of one of the Spanish vessels--on board of which
were several passengers of high rank--and the surrender of the others.
This attack and capture during the nominal continuance of peace enraged
the Spanish nation beyond all further show of neutrality, and afforded
too fair a colour to French declamation against England’s naval tyranny.
On the 12th of December, 1804, the court of Madrid declared war against
England in a virulent manifesto; and the Prince of the Peace, now created
generalissimo of his Catholic majesty’s forces (a title devised to give
him the supreme command), published an address, calling upon every
individual Spaniard to assist in avenging the insults of the tyrants
of the sea. The war produced no event this year beyond the capture of
Dutch Guiana (Surinam) by an English expedition. In France Bonaparte
accomplished the transmutation of his office of consul of a republic
into the dignity of emperor. The year 1805 was rich in memorable battles
by sea and land. On the 21st of October, off Trafalgar, Villeneuve and
Gravina the Spanish admiral, with thirty-three sail of the line and
seven frigates, encountered Nelson, who had lured them out of Cadiz, by
persuading them that his force amounted only to twenty-one sail of the
line. They found him with twenty-seven and three frigates. It was too
late to retreat, and they engaged. The battle was one of the hardest
contested and most decisive ever fought at sea. Lord Nelson fell, but
survived long enough to know that the victory was gained. This splendid
victory seems to have nearly annihilated the fleets of France and Spain,
and to have completely repressed Napoleon’s schemes for obtaining any
naval superiority over, or equality with Great Britain. From that time
he appears to have really abandoned the idea of invading England, how
much soever he still threatened. But the maritime triumphs of the latter
country were fearfully balanced by the reverses of her continental
allies. A negotiation was at this time set on foot for detaching Spain
from France; and the court of Madrid showed itself well disposed to
concur in the requisite arrangements. Napoleon’s yoke pressed too heavily
to be ever voluntarily borne; and although Charles IV had, in the first
instance, joyfully hailed the accession to power of an individual able
to control and terminate the revolution, all such kindly disposition
had been forcibly crushed by the barbarous and illegal execution of a
prince of his own Bourbon blood, the duke d’Enghien. To this feeling
of resentment was added fear, nearly equal to that inspired by the
Revolution itself, when the conqueror of Europe began to dethrone
sovereigns and to distribute crowns amongst his own kindred.
[Sidenote: [1805-1806 A.D.]]
Charles, notwithstanding his fears of Napoleon, had still delayed to
acknowledge the usurper of half his brother Ferdinand’s kingdom; and
when he understood that, in his negotiation with England, the emperor
insisted upon Sicily likewise for Joseph, and proposed to dismember
Spain of Minorca, Majorca, and Iviza, by way of compensation to the
despoiled king of Naples, Charles’ indignation burst forth, and Godoy’s
imperfectly appeased fears revived. A plan of future operations was
concerted between the Prince of the Peace in person, and the Russian and
Portuguese ambassadors, the secret of which was carefully kept even from
the Spanish ministers. It was arranged that Spain and Portugal should arm
under colour of hostilities against each other; and that, at the moment
when Russia should take the field, their united armies, supported by the
fleets of England, should invade the south of France.
Spain bitterly felt the consequences of war with England in the loss of
her fleets, and the consequent interruption to her intercourse with her
colonies. On June 27th, 1806, the English officer Popham seized Buenos
Ayres. The enterprise was in every way rash and ill-advised. He had not
troops sufficient to maintain his conquest, and it was recovered by the
Spaniards. But the English, if driven out of Buenos Ayres, were not
expelled from the country, and this alarmed the Spanish government for
its transatlantic empire. Sympathising in the anger and terror awakened
in Charles’ mind by the words Napoleon had uttered while stepping into
his carriage to set off for the Prussian frontiers (“If Charles IV will
not acknowledge my brother as king of the Two Sicilies, his successor
shall”), and elated with the tidings of the new German war, Godoy lost
sight of the secrecy and caution in which his hostile designs had
hitherto been wrapped. Without waiting for the proposed co-operation of
either England or Russia, he flung aside the mask. He did not, indeed,
announce that France was the enemy with whom he contemplated a war, but
he published a proclamation (October 5th, 1806) in which he summoned the
nation to arms.
On the 14th of the same month Napoleon, in the terrible battle of Jena,
completely routed, dispersed, and destroyed the Prussian army. In the
palace at Berlin, Napoleon read the imprudent manifesto of the Prince
of the Peace; and if the destiny of the Bourbon kings of Spain had been
previously doubtful, it was thenceforward sealed. The news of Jena struck
the Prince of the Peace and his infatuated sovereigns with affright
proportionate to their recent presumption; and they strove to obviate
the effects of their imprudence by various means, which, contradicting
each other, proved the bad faith against the French emperor which they
endeavoured to deny. The French and Spanish newspapers were filled with
paragraphs, in some of which the manifesto was alleged to be a forgery
by the enemies of the Prince of the Peace; whilst in others it was
avowed as directed against either England or the emperor of Morocco.
The decree for levying troops was immediately revoked, and a second
circular ordered the governors to disregard the former. Godoy did not,
however, rely upon the effects of these artifices. He is believed to have
lavished his ill-gotten treasures upon the agents of French diplomacy,
whilst he sent a private envoy of his own, distinct from the king’s, Don
Eugenio Izquierdo, to Berlin, humbly to confess and implore forgiveness.
Napoleon felt that this was not the season for engaging in a new war,
and he suffered the hostile demonstration of the court of Madrid to
pass unnoticed. But he sought yet further to weaken Spain by requiring
that sixteen thousand of her best troops, under her best general, the
marquis de la Romana, should be sent into Prussia as reinforcements of
the northern army. It was at this period that the famous Berlin decree
was published, declaring the British Islands in a state of blockade; and
Spain was of course required fully to concur in the execution of this
fantastic measure.
[Sidenote: [1806-1807 A.D.]]
Charles IV, overjoyed at his seeming escape from certain destruction,
strove to express his gratitude to Godoy, to whose address he ascribed
his supposed safety, by new honours and rewards. The favourite was
appointed high admiral, when scarce a ship remained; he received the
title of “most serene highness,” never before borne in Spain but by the
two Don Johns, the illegitimate sons of Charles V and of Philip IV;
and he was named protector of commerce and the colonies. Adorned with
these new dignities, Godoy made a sort of triumphal entry into Madrid
that offended the people, and both alarmed and irritated the prince of
Asturias. Orders were given for the burning of all English manufactures,
conformably to the injunctions of the Berlin decree; Joseph Bonaparte
was acknowledged as king of the Two Sicilies, and Ferdinand IV’s name
inserted in the court almanac merely as a prince of the blood, the eldest
of the king’s brothers; and king, queen, and favourite remained satisfied
that they had fully appeased and satisfied the master of the continent.
On the 7th of July, 1807, the treaty was signed at Tilsit, by which the
czar Alexander ratified all Napoleon’s changes of European sovereigns.
The French emperor, convinced that the czar was inalienably his friend,
returned to Paris towards the end of July, and devoted his meditations to
the punishment of Charles IV, and the subjugation of Spain and Portugal.
One of the first steps in execution of his designs upon the peninsula
was, in the month of August, to order the French and Spanish ambassadors
conjointly to declare to the prince-regent of Portugal that he must
concur in the Continental System--_viz._, shut his ports against English
commerce, confiscate all English property, and imprison all English
subjects to be found within his dominions, or they were instructed
immediately to leave Lisbon.
Portugal’s hesitation at once to obey the imperious mandate afforded
a sort of pretence for hostility which Napoleon eagerly seized, and
submission came too late. Neither could Spain’s mediation be hoped. The
fears or the ambition of Godoy had prevailed over the parental feelings
of the now nearly imbecile Charles IV, and Spain was endeavouring to
share in the spoil, not to protect the victim. A treaty, the shameless
iniquity of which can be paralleled only by the treaties between Austria,
Russia, and Prussia for the partition of Poland, had been signed at
Fontainebleau, on the 27th of October. By this treaty Charles surrendered
to Napoleon his infant grandson’s kingdom of Etruria (King Louis I
had been dead some years), over which he had no right whatever, and
bargained to receive for him in its stead the small northern provinces
of Portugal, Entre-Minho-e-Douro and Tras-os-Montes, under the name of
the kingdom of Northern Lusitania, which kingdom the young monarch was
to hold in vassalage of the crown of Spain. The much larger southern
provinces, Alemtejo and Algarve, were to constitute the principality of
the Algarves, for Godoy, under a similar tenure. And the middle provinces
were to be occupied by Napoleon until a general peace, when, in exchange
for Gibraltar, Trinidad, and any other Spanish possession conquered by
England, they might be restored to the family of Braganza, upon like
terms of dependence. The Portuguese colonies were to be equally divided
between France and Spain.
Neither Napoleon nor Godoy had waited for the actual signature of this
treaty to commence their operations for carrying it into effect, so
impatient were both to secure their prey. On the 18th of October, Junot,
in obedience to his master’s orders, crossed the Pyrenees, and, being
kindly received by the Spaniards, began his march towards the Portuguese
frontiers, whilst the Spanish troops were equally put in motion towards
their respective destinations.
As will be more fully described in the Portuguese history, the invaders
met practically no resistance, and the royal family fled across the ocean
to Brazil.
The first steps towards the execution of the Treaty of Fontainebleau
being thus taken, the Prince of the Peace became impatient for its
publication, and his own installation in his allotted dominions. But it
is very doubtful whether Napoleon ever meant that treaty for more than
a means of facilitating his ulterior designs; if he did, his purpose
was now changed, and he no longer intended to admit of any partnership
in his new acquisition. But even whilst he was negotiating the treaty
with Godoy, his ambassador, Beauharnais, was artfully fomenting the
dissensions existing in the Spanish royal family.[b]
NAPOLEON SCHEMES FOR SPAIN
Napoleon was tempted to take Spain, and yet knew not how to seize such
a rich prey. In the meantime one of those scandals broke out at the
Escorial which showed up in full light the miseries of dynasties, which
must suffer, in common with the poorest, ills common to mankind yet
cannot like them hide their woes from the world. Charles IV, given up
to pleasure, passed from the hunt to the studio, from the studio to the
stable. The queen, occupied only in preserving what beauty time had left
her, sacrificed her duties as a wife and a sovereign to the sole desire
of keeping the love of Godoy. The Prince of the Peace, without being
quite indifferent to the country’s interests, put his own fortune first.
Master of the queen, to whom, moreover, he allowed unworthy rivals, he
flattered Napoleon, from whom he hoped a crown. In the same palace lived
Ferdinand, prince of Asturias, heir to the throne, a man who was grossly
artificial and wicked, yet one whom Spain was disposed to obey if only
to show hatred to the Prince of the Peace. Ferdinand’s chief counsellors
were the duke de Infantado, strongly attached to all the prejudices
of an ancient régime, ambitious, but with all the inflexibility of an
honest man, and his tutor Escoiquiz, of a supple and dreamy disposition,
ambitious to play the rôle of Ximenes or at least of Cardinal Fleury. It
was with such personages that Napoleon was to dispute the possession of
Spain.
[Sidenote: [1807-1808 A.D.]]
Napoleon had known for a long time of the quarrels which divided the
court of Madrid, for Ferdinand also had asked his help; and, to replace
the princess of Asturias, who had just died, had asked through the
intervention of M. de Beauharnais the hand of a princess of the Bonaparte
family. Napoleon had received these overtures with a certain surprise,
neither absolutely accepting nor rejecting. Ferdinand, as he wrote to M.
de Beauharnais, was “surrounded even in his private rooms by observant
spies.” His writing for some time past had given these spies cause for
anxiety, and on the 27th of October the queen persuaded her weak-minded
husband to order the prince’s apartments to be ransacked for papers.
It was a terrible blow. In Ferdinand’s rooms was discovered a secret
alphabet destined for a mysterious correspondence, an order, with the
date left blank, which named the duke de Infantado governor of New
Castile, and a memorial destined by Ferdinand for his father, in which
he denounced the crimes of the Prince of the Peace and the complicity
of his mother. The queen was furious; she saw in these papers the proof
of a conspiracy, and demanded the immediate arrest of the prince and
his accomplices. Ferdinand was confined to his own rooms, and Charles
IV addressed a proclamation to the Spanish people in which he accused
his son of trying to assassinate him. At the same time this unhappy king
wrote to Napoleon to denounce the crime, expressing a readiness to alter
the succession to the throne.
The chance, so long expected, had at length arrived. Napoleon, who had as
yet taken no definite steps, wrote to Beauharnais to be very observant
but to do nothing, and hastened the march of his troops towards the
Pyrenees. To the army commanded by General Dupont he joined another
which he called “the observation corps for the coast line,” and gave
the command to Marshal Moncey, who had already fought in Spain. Hardly
was Ferdinand arrested, when he gave signs of contemptible weakness.
He denounced his confidants, humiliated himself before the Prince of
the Peace, implored pardon of his father and mother in dishonourable
letters, and left his friends to appear before the judges--judges who,
fortunately, had the courage to acquit them. The Prince of the Peace
was not without anxiety. His hopes were ruined if Ferdinand married a
princess of the imperial family. On the other hand, his principality in
Portugal now seemed a little risky since Junot governed as master, and
ceded no place to Spaniards. At the same time he also saw Charles IV much
flattered by an alliance with the imperial family and resolved to solicit
it.
It was only in the month of January, 1808, that the emperor thought of
taking definite action. Three projects suggested themselves: to marry
Ferdinand to a French princess and so make him a vassal of the empire;
to cede Spain a portion of Portugal and take all the provinces beyond
the Ebro; or else dethrone the Bourbons and replace them by a Bonaparte.
He stopped at this last resolution, and prepared his designs with a rare
duplicity. On the 20th of February he sent Murat into Spain with orders
to occupy Pamplona, Barcelona, and San Sebastian, and to get on as far as
Madrid.
Napoleon really hoped so to reduce the Spanish sovereign by terror
that he, imitating the house of Braganza in Portugal, would flee, or
attempt to flee, into America. Then he would take possession of the
vacant throne. This plan should have succeeded. The queen and the Prince
of the Peace were terrified and thought seriously of setting out, and
brought the old king to their way of thinking. Everything failed owing
to the resistance of the prince of Asturias. Ferdinand reckoned on the
friendship of Napoleon. A part of the nation had the same illusion about
the French, regarding them as rescuers come to free them and drive away
the Prince of the Peace. So preparations for the king’s flight met with
lively opposition. The king was obliged to address a proclamation to the
people saying he would not go, and to show himself at the palace windows
to receive the evidence of an affection mingled with suspicion and
threats. On the 17th of March, troops arriving to escort the king only
served to augment the agitation. That very evening there was a rising.
The crowd ran to the palace, obliged the king to show himself, then went
to the house of the Prince of the Peace. Furious at not finding him, they
revenged themselves by pillaging the house. These disorders troubled the
king and queen for two reasons: they were anxious for their favourite,
for whose safety they were most concerned, and they saw in these scenes
the image of the French Revolution; and so feared for themselves the fate
of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
[Illustration: JOSEPH BONAPARTE]
On the 18th of March, to save the Prince of the Peace, the king stripped
him of all his offices and exiled him. But this only produced a temporary
lull. On the 19th, the prince, who for two days had been living hidden in
a barn in a bundle of osiers, decided to come out of his hiding-place.
Discovered immediately, he had great trouble, though protected by some
bodyguards, to escape the violence of the crowd. He was taken to a
barracks which served him both as prison and refuge. A furious crowd
followed and threatened to force the doors. Troubled by the cries which
they heard from afar, the king and queen had recourse to Ferdinand,
begging him to save his friend. The prince agreed with triumphant joy,
presented himself at the barracks, dispersed the crowd by telling them
justice should be done, and appearing before Godoy promised him pardon.
“Are you already king, that you grant pardon?” cried the prisoner. “No,”
answered Ferdinand, “but I shall be, soon.”
CHARLES IV ABDICATES; THE BOURBONS AT BAYONNE
He was indeed to be king that very day, for a little while only, it is
true; but how could he guess the fate which awaited him? The king and
queen were utterly terrified, and on learning that the crowd had just
wrecked the carriage destined to take away the Prince of the Peace,
their fright redoubled. To save their lives and that of their friend
they did not hesitate to lay down the royal power. Charles IV signed his
abdication and Ferdinand was proclaimed amid outbursts of frantic joy.[f]
Ferdinand VII, notwithstanding the neglect of his solicitations for
Napoleon’s protection, seems to have felt no mistrust of the emperor’s
good-will towards himself. He retained several of his father’s ministers,
especially Cevallos, although allied by marriage to Godoy; but he
likewise raised the chief of those who had been imprisoned, as his
accomplices in the conspiracy of the preceding October, to high posts.
He released Jovellanos from prison; confiscated the property of the
Prince of the Peace, without awaiting his trial; and repealed some
vexatious taxes. The nation was delighted with their new monarch; but
their exultation and Ferdinand’s joy in his accession, and trust in the
supposed favour of Napoleon, were alike short-lived.
Napoleon himself seems to have been momentarily perplexed by the tumults
at Aranjuez and the old king’s abdication. He had hoped probably to find
the kingdom deserted by its rulers, and open to the first occupant. He
paused upon his journey to await what should next occur; whilst Murat,
under pretence of besieging Gibraltar, pressed forward with such celerity
that, on the 23rd of March, he entered the town, and established himself
in the magnificent palace of the Prince of the Peace. Upon Ferdinand’s
arrival, Murat paid him neither military nor personal honours, alleging
the necessity of learning Napoleon’s decision upon the late transactions,
ere the prince of Asturias could be acknowledged as king of Spain.
With a French army in Madrid, Ferdinand saw that the stability of his
throne depended upon his recognition by the emperor of France. He
therefore addressed a justificatory account of the recent events to
Napoleon, and renewed his solicitations for the hand of an imperial
princess. Evidently Napoleon never meant to acknowledge Ferdinand as
king; but it was essential to his schemes, since he could not frighten
the whole Spanish royal family away, to get them all into his own hands;
and Charles’ vacillating conduct afforded him the means of so doing.
Charles wrote to the French emperor, protesting against his abdication
as forced. The old queen, and her daughter the queen of Etruria, wrote
to Murat, begging him to save the life of his and their friend, Godoy,
and declared that they wished only some safe asylum where they and he
might spend the remainder of their lives together. Murat promised his
support.[b]
Napoleon sent Savary to Madrid, commissioned not to recognise the prince
of Asturias but to flatter his hopes and make him decide to come to
Bayonne, where the emperor himself was going. In fact the whole business
resolved itself into getting hold of Ferdinand, and was nothing more than
a trap. Murat, Savary, Beauharnais--all were in the conspiracy; the first
hoping for a crown, the last with the good faith of misguided honesty.
Savary alone knew Napoleon’s designs and served them without scruple.
Ferdinand and his counsellors had entire faith in the emperor. Ferdinand
hoped to avoid other concessions by giving up some colonies to France.
Only, to obtain this, an interview with the emperor would be necessary.
Another motive urged Ferdinand to take this imprudent journey. Murat only
showed deference to the old sovereigns, and affected to render them all
the homage due to royalty. It was necessary that Ferdinand should see
Napoleon and be recognised by him as king of Spain.
As soon as they learned of their son’s projected journey, the old
sovereigns, left at Aranjuez, also wanted to go to him whom they called
their protector and friend. Soon, therefore, the emperor had under his
hand the whole Spanish dynasty. These journeys, however, were not
accomplished without difficulty. The people of Madrid threatened at first
to oppose Ferdinand’s departure, and the prince himself became seriously
uneasy when he learned at Burgos that the emperor was still at Bordeaux.
He went on however as far as Vitoria, but once in this town he refused
to go farther. General Savary tried persuasion, then threats, but all to
no purpose. He therefore went to the emperor, who had just arrived at
Bayonne, and obtained for Ferdinand a letter full of promises calculated
to make him decide to continue his journey. In case he should resist,
Savary brought to Murat and Bessières an order to arrest Ferdinand and
proclaim Charles IV.
Without knowing of the threatened danger, Ferdinand still hesitated.
If many of his counsellors were urging him on, defiance was bursting
out all around, and Izquierdo, coming expressly from Vitoria, predicted
exactly all the evils that would break over Ferdinand and the empire. The
emperor’s letter silenced all scruples, and, reassured by fresh promises
from Savary, Ferdinand set out surrounded by an escort which would not
have allowed him to change his mind. When the Bidassoa was crossed,
Ferdinand there only found Berthier and Duroc, who saluted him as prince
of Asturias. At Bayonne, the emperor received him cordially, embraced him
and kept him to dinner, but always as prince of Asturias. Finally, that
very evening, the emperor, who had now no need for dissimulation, told
Escoiquiz that he had need of Spain; that he had resolved to dethrone the
Bourbons, and offered to make Ferdinand king of Etruria. Simultaneously
Savary made the same communication to the prince. It was a terrible
blow![f]
LAFUENTE’S ACCOUNT OF THE _DOS DE MAYO_
We draw near to one of those critical, supreme, and solemn moments in the
history of nations when the excess of an evil brings inspiration, and
counsels a remedy; when indignation at the treachery of some, sorrow at
the humiliation and degradation of others, produce in a people an eager
and salutary reaction respecting their outraged dignity; which causes
them to recover themselves, gives rise to grand ideas, and endows them
with the courage of anger and desperation, resulting in an impetuous and
heroic outburst, in which, finally, they rehabilitate their tarnished
honour, and regain their lost courage. Popular instinct, being by this
time more prudent and far-seeing than governors and councillors, and as
suspicious and distrustful of the French as it had been previously simple
and candid, saw with sorrow the tortuous turn taken by public affairs.
The people of Madrid were specially mortified by the journey and absence
of their beloved Ferdinand, brought about by deceptions and stratagems;
by the liberty given to the hated Godoy, through the influence of the
emperor and his agents; and by Murat’s efforts to cause Charles IV to be
re-acknowledged king.
Outside Madrid, in Toledo and Burgos, riots and risings took place, in
which some excesses were committed, which although provoked by French
impudence and audacity served Murat as an excuse for presenting imperious
and haughty complaints to the supreme junta, exaggerating injuries and
making them the motive of harassing it with exactions and petitions.
Seeing the junta inefficient and weak, Murat haughty and daring daily
reviewing his force, the capital occupied by the brilliant imperial guard
of infantry and cavalry and by the infantry commanded by Musnier, the
Retiro fortified with artillery, Marshal Moncey’s force surrounding the
environs of Madrid, and a second line farther back composed of Dupont’s
divisions, in the Escorial, Aranjuez, and Toledo, forming in all an army
of twenty-five thousand men, while the Spanish garrison barely numbered
three thousand--the oppressed people became secretly agitated; the very
French detected a certain hatred in the looks of the residents, and noted
a gloom on their faces, a sign of the concentrated rage hidden in their
breasts, which fear alone restrained, and which needed but a light breath
to cause it to break out in an impetuous explosion. To this was added the
rumour spread abroad, and the idea which the people had formed of the
heroic resistance which it was said Ferdinand was opposing in Bayonne
against renouncing the crown, which Napoleon, wishing to wrest it from
him, was urging him to do, Ferdinand being in their eyes the defenceless
victim of the imperial violence. The junta continued to step from
concession to concession, from weakness to weakness. They speedily found
themselves involved in a new dispute.
On the 30th of April the grand duke of Berg (Murat) presented himself
before the junta, bearing a letter from Charles IV to the president, the
infante, summoning to Bayonne his two children, the queen of Etruria, and
the infante Don Francisco.
Eventually the 2nd of May [_dos de Mayo_] dawned, a day that was to be
ever remembered. From the early morning the signs which generally herald
a popular rising were noticeable. Numerous groups of men and women, among
which were many peasants from the suburbs who had remained over night,
filled the Plaza de Palacio, from whence the infantes were to leave
Madrid. At nine o’clock the carriage bearing the queen of Etruria and her
children left without opposition and without sign of feeling from the
people, partly because they looked on her as almost a foreign princess,
and partly because she was of those who opposed Ferdinand. The servants
of the palace spread the report that the infante Don Francisco, still a
child, was crying, because he did not wish to leave Madrid; this excited
the pity of the women and the anger of the men. At this moment Murat’s
aide-de-camp Lagrange came upon the scene, and the people thinking he was
come to hasten the departure of the prince, a general murmur was heard.
One spark is sufficient to ignite well prepared fuel. At the cry of
an old woman--“God help me! They are taking all the royal family to
France!”--the multitude rushed upon the grand duke’s aide-de-camp,
who would have fallen a victim to the fury of the populace had not an
officer of the Walloon guard shielded him with his body. Murat, who
lived close by and heard of what was passing in the vicinity of the
palace, despatched a battalion with two pieces of artillery. This troop
fired a volley on the defenceless multitude, without previous warning.
Instantly the residents of Madrid rushed into the streets, armed with
guns, carbines, swords, pikes, and as many other arms as each one could
carry; and with daring courage fell impetuously upon all the Frenchmen
they encountered, although those who begged for mercy were shut up in
a safe place, and, with a few exceptions, those who remained in their
houses were respected. Murat, who was accustomed to fighting, both on the
field and in the streets and squares of large towns, now set his forces
in movement, in such a manner that, coming from the different extremes of
the capital and converging by the principal streets to the centre of the
town, they came up scattering the multitude; while the imperial guard,
commanded by Daumesnil, struck at the groups, stabbing the people. And
the Polish lancers and the mamelukes, who distinguished themselves by
their cruelty, forced the houses from whence the people were firing on
them, or where they supposed they were firing, and entering sacked them
and killed the residents.
[Illustration: THE FRENCH IN SPAIN]
In spite of the disparity of the forces, and the superiority due to
equipment, instruction, and military discipline, the people fought with
extraordinary valour; many sold their lives dearly; sometimes the mob
forced masses of cavalry to retreat; others fired from a corner with
dexterous skill, while from the balconies, windows, and roofs men and
women threw down all kinds of implements on the imperial troops. But it
was impossible for a people without leaders and undisciplined to sustain
the struggle.
The rumour that the French had attacked one of the other barracks moved
the already hesitating artillery corps to take part with the people,
and the valiant officers Don Pedro Velarde and Don Luis Daoiz, taking
the lead, commanded three cannon to be brought out and supported by the
peasants and by a picket of infantry commanded by an officer called Ruiz;
they proposed to repulse the enemy, and shortly succeeded in compelling
a detachment of one hundred French to surrender. But presently Lefranc’s
column came down upon them, and a desperate struggle ensued, deadly
volleys were discharged, the losses on either side were numerous; in the
beginning of the conflict Ruiz fell to the ground mortally wounded; the
intrepid Velarde died gloriously, pierced by a ball; but ammunition ran
short and the French charged with their bayonets. Such was the defence
of the artillery, which cost the French dear, and such the example of
patriotism given by the valiant Daoiz and Velarde to the glory and honour
of Spain, who have been ever since, and will ever be, the eternal objects
of the veneration and worship of their country.[110]
The members of the junta of government wished to give proof of humanity
if they had not shown energy, and commissioned two of their number to
carry word to Murat that if he would give orders for the firing to
cease, they would re-establish quiet in the town. Murat acceded; and
the commissioners went through the streets waving white handkerchiefs
crying “Peace! Peace!” The multitude quieted down upon the promise of
reconciliation and pardon for the past. Many unfortunates owed their
lives to this step; the entrances to the streets were guarded by the
French; at certain places cannon were mounted with lighted match in
readiness to complete the terror of the people, a fatal sign that the
reconciliation and pardon were soon to be converted into desolation and
vengeance.
Meanwhile the horrible edict, or order, given below had been published,
though scarcely anyone was aware of its publication:
SOLDIERS:
The ill-advised populace of Madrid has risen in arms and
committed murders. I am well aware that Spaniards worthy of
the name have lamented that such excesses should have been
committed, and I am far from confounding them with a few
miserable wretches who live only for plunder and crime. But the
French blood which has been spilt cries out for vengeance. For
this reason I have issued the following order: Article I, This
night General Grouchy shall assemble the military commission.
Article II, All those who were taken in the rebellion carrying
arms shall be shot. Article III, The junta or government is
about to command the inhabitants of Madrid to be disarmed.
All the residents of the town when the time required for the
execution of this resolution has elapsed, who shall continue
to carry arms, or keep such in their houses without special
license, shall be shot. Article IV, Any band of more than eight
persons shall be looked upon as a meeting of rebels, and fired
on till they disperse. Article V, Every town or village where
a Frenchman is murdered shall be burned. Article VI, Masters
shall answer for their servants, owners of factories for their
employees, fathers for their sons, and superiors of convents
for their religious. Article VII, Authors of written or printed
seditious pamphlets, and those who distribute or sell them,
shall be looked upon as agents of the English and as such shall
be shot.
(Signed), JOACHIM.
Given in our headquarters of Madrid, on the 2nd of May, 1808.
By order of his royal highness, the chief of the staff,
BELLIARD.
In accordance with this Draconian edict the French searched everyone,
and seized all persons bearing arms, even though it were a penknife or
scissors; some they shot upon the spot, and imprisoned others in the
barracks or in the Casa de Correo, where the military commission had been
established. Night came on, and its appalling silence was unbroken save
for the roar of the cannon discharged at intervals, or the report of the
guns, as the unfortunate residents, in bands or bound in twos, were shot,
without their defence being heard, close to the hall of the Prado at the
spot where now stands a sad but glorious monument, recording and handing
down to posterity the patriotism of those who were here sacrificed; which
monument is a pillar of shame for this inhuman sacrifice.
Such was the end of the popular movement of the 2nd of May, a day
eternally remembered in Spanish annals.[111] The country honours her
sons who offered themselves as a holocaust for her, and every year a
solemn civic religious ceremony takes place which keeps that day of
mourning and weeping, and of glory to the country fresh in the memory of
every Spaniard. Nor was this a _coup d’état_ coldly prepared and planned
by Murat, as some have imagined, nor a plot arranged by Spaniards in
patriotic unions, as others say; it was a spontaneous and unpremeditated
outburst, an explosion of pent-up anger on the part of a people invaded
by deceptions and perfidy, deprived by treachery of the objects of
their affection and of their devotion, of their kings and princes, and
dominated by the haughty and hypocritical foreigner. And Murat seized the
opportunity offered him and which he had watched coming, to humiliate
Castilian pride, and smooth the road to seat a French prince on the
Spanish throne, a throne which his imagination represented to him as
being within his own reach.
On the following day houses and shops were closed, the streets were
deserted and silent, the silence being unbroken save by the imposing
echo of the measured tread of the French patrols, making their rounds.
The edict of the preceding day was affixed in the public places.[112]
Murat further published a proclamation beginning, “Valiant Spaniards: the
2nd of May will be for me, as it will be for you, a day of mourning.”
He blamed the common enemy of France and Spain for this rebellion; he
declared that he had received a previous warning of it which he had not
credited, until the rebellion had burst upon him, and he was compelled to
chastise the offenders; he assured them that the emperor was anxious to
preserve the integrity of the Spanish monarchy without separating from it
a single village or exacting any war tax; he exhorted the ministers of
the church, the magistrates, gentlemen, landholders, and merchants to use
their influence to keep down sedition.[d]
Meanwhile by Napoleon’s orders Charles IV, Maria Louisa, and Godoy had
been sent to Bayonne where Ferdinand awaited Napoleon’s nod.[a]
THE ROYAL FAMILY AT BAYONNE
Immediately after the arrival of the royal parents, with Napoleon’s
approval, Godoy being their principal and well-nigh only councillor,
Ferdinand was summoned, and in the presence of the foreign sovereign
Charles commanded him to restore the crown on the morning of the
following day by means of a pure and simple abdication, threatening him
that, in event of his refusal, he, his brothers, and all his suite should
from that moment be treated as exiles.
Napoleon supported him with energy, and when Ferdinand was about to
reply, his august father sprang from his seat, and attempted to strike
him, accusing him of wishing to deprive him of life as well as of his
crown. The queen, silent up to then, became enraged, outraging her son
with insulting affronts, being carried away to such a point by her
ungovernable anger that, according to Napoleon, she herself begged him
to bring Ferdinand to the scaffold, which demand, if true, coming from
a mother, strikes one with horror. Her son remained mute, and sent in
his abdication, dated May 1st, on these conditions: that the king his
father should return to Madrid, whither Ferdinand should accompany him,
to be treated as his most dutiful son; that in presence of an assembly of
the cortes Ferdinand should formally renounce the crown, explaining his
motives for so doing; that King Charles should not take back with him to
Spain any persons who had justly incurred the nation’s hatred.
Charles IV, as might be supposed, did not accede to his son’s conditions,
and on the 2nd sent him a written reply, in which, in the midst of
various severe though just reflections, Napoleon’s hand is discerned,
and even his expressions--such as: “Everything must be done for the
people, and nothing for himself; I cannot consent to any convocation of
an assembly; a new suggestion of your inexperienced followers.” Such was
Bonaparte’s invariable aversion to popular assemblies, although without
them he might have remained in the obscurity in which fate had placed him.
On the 5th of May, the report reached Bayonne of what had occurred in
Madrid on the _Dos de Mayo_. It was five in the afternoon; all were
seated save the prince. Charles repeated his former accusations, insulted
Ferdinand with asperity, blamed him for the rising and for the consequent
deaths; and, calling him a perfidious traitor, again warned him that
unless he resigned the crown he should be declared a usurper without
delay, and he and all his household looked upon as conspirators against
the life of their sovereign. On the 6th Ferdinand, being intimidated,
made a pure and simple abdication in favour of his father in the terms
set down by the latter. Charles had not waited for his son’s abdication
to conclude a treaty with Napoleon by which he ceded to him the crown
without any other restriction than that of preserving the integrity
of the kingdom and the Catholic religion to the exclusion of all
others. Small and petty even to the last, Don Manuel Godoy only haggled
obstinately over an article relating to pensions. For the rest, the
manner in which Charles gave up the crown covered with shame the father,
who with one blow indirectly deprived all his sons of their succession
to the throne. Arranged in a foreign land, in the eyes of the world this
abdication lacked the indispensable circumstance of having been executed
freely and willingly, above all being in favour of the sovereign within
whose territory this important article had been inserted in the treaty.
So ended the reign of Charles IV; and no one better than himself gives
us an exact and true idea of his life than, when dining with Napoleon in
Bayonne, he expressed himself as follows: “Every day, winter and summer,
I went hunting until twelve o’clock; then I dined, and immediately
returned to my hunting until twilight. Manuel [Godoy] gave me the news,
and I went to bed, to begin the same life on the following day, unless
some important ceremony prevented me.” Such was the manner in which
the king had governed for the space of twenty years. According to the
sketch which he draws of himself, he merits the same title [_fainéant_]
as that applied to various kings of France of the Merovingian dynasty.
Nevertheless, Charles possessed qualities which might have made him
shine as a king, and fulfil all the duties of his high calling, but for
his idleness and the weakness which caused him to blindly give way to
the queen’s will and irregular caprices. With another wife than Maria
Louisa, his reign would not have compared unfavourably with that of
his august predecessor, and although the situation of Europe was very
different, as a result of the French Revolution, yet, well governed and
without interior discord, Spain might perhaps have peacefully continued
her industries and advancement without upheavals and confusion. The
abdication of Ferdinand in favour of Charles IV, and of the latter in
favour of Napoleon being formally drawn up, there yet lacked Ferdinand’s
renouncement of his rights as prince of Asturias, because although he
had restored the crown to his father on the 6th of May, he had not by
this act renounced his rights as immediate heir. It appears according
to Don Pedro Cevallos[g] that upon Ferdinand refusing to accede to this
last concession Napoleon said, “There is no medium, prince, between
renouncement and death.” Others deny this threat, and indeed it would
seem strange that such rigorous measures should have been resorted to
with a person who had so clearly shown his weakness.
The queen of Etruria, in spite of the flattering attention she had
bestowed on Murat and the French, was no happier in her negotiations
than the rest of her family. The Treaty of Fontainebleau could not be
kept with her son because Napoleon had promised the deputies of Portugal
to maintain the integrity of that kingdom; nor could indemnification be
granted her in Italy, as to allow any branch of the Bourbons to reign
in that country was contrary to Napoleon’s great views; the queen was
compelled to be satisfied with this reply, accept the pension allotted
her, and submit to the same fate as her parents.
During the stay of the prince of Asturias and the infantes in Bayonne
various plots were set on foot for their escape. A resident of Cevera de
Alhama received money from the supreme junta of Madrid for that purpose.
The duke of Mahon had sent the offer of a large sum from San Sebastian
for the same object. Ferdinand’s counsellors received the money in his
name and by his orders, but the flight never took place, although
several plans were proposed. They would have required less vigilance on
the part of the French government and more courage on the part of the
Spanish princes to bring them to a successful ending.
The renouncements being formally executed, Napoleon lost no time in
despatching the members of the royal family of Spain to the interior of
France. Charles IV and his wife, the queen of Etruria and her children,
the infante Don Francisco, and the Prince of the Peace, left for
Fontainebleau on the 10th of May, and thence proceeded to Compiègne. On
the 11th Ferdinand VII, his brother and uncle, the infantes Don Carlos
and Don Antonio, left Bayonne; the palace of Valençay, the property of
Prince Talleyrand, being assigned as their residence.[h]
FOOTNOTES
[106] [“The rapidity with which she loaded Don Manuel Godoy with
advancement, favours, lands, and distinctions for which he had no
particular merit, gave ground for evil reports. In a few years he was
made successively knight commander of the order of Santiago, captain of
his company, officer of the Spanish lifeguards, captain-general of the
corps, brigadier of the royal forces, field-marshal, gentleman of his
majesty’s chamber with office, sergeant-major of the royal bodyguard,
knight of the Grand Cross of the royal and distinguished order of Charles
III, grandee of Spain with the title of duke of Alcudia, councillor of
state (from 1784-1791), and superintendent-general of posts and roads,
etc.”--LAFUENTE.[d]]
[107] [An earlier exception to the rule is to be found in the case of
Luis de Haro, who received the same title of Prince of the Peace after
the conclusion of the Peace of the Pyrenees in 1659.]
[108] [Godoy[e] in his memoirs uses the fact of the king’s unchanging
devotion as a proof that his relations with the queen were honest and
that he held his post purely by his devoted fidelity to both king and
queen.]
[109] [The count de Toreño[h] says of him: “No sooner did he hold out
protection to wise and esteemed men than he humbled them. At the same
time that he was encouraging a special science, establishing a new
professorship, or supporting some measure of improvement, he allowed
the marquis Caballero, a declared enemy to advancement and learning,
to trace out a scheme of general public instruction to be adopted in
all the universities, which was incoherent and unworthy of the century,
permitting him also to make serious omissions and alterations in the
codes of law. Although he banished from the court and exiled all those
whom he believed to be opposed to him, or who displeased him, as a
general rule he did not carry his persecutions any farther, nor was he by
nature cruel; he showed himself cruel and hard only with respect to the
illustrious Jovellanos; sordid in his avarice, he sold, as if in public
auction, offices, magistratures, dignities, sees, sometimes for himself,
sometimes for his mistresses, sometimes to satisfy the caprices of the
queen.”]
[110] [Napier[i] says these officers were “in a state of great excitement
from drink.”]
[111] [The feeling the Spaniards cherish for this futile riot may be
compared to the American regard for the similar occasion known as the
Boston “Massacre” of 1770.]
[112] [Of the _Dos de Mayo_ Napier[i] says: “This celebrated tumult,
in which the wild cry of Spanish warfare was first heard, has been
represented by authors who adopt all the reports of the day, sometimes as
a wanton massacre, sometimes as a barbarous political stroke to impress a
dread of French power. It was neither. The fiery temper of the Spaniards,
excited by strange events and the recent tumults against Godoy, rendered
an explosion inevitable, and so it happened. If the French had stimulated
this disposition to violence, with a view to an example, they would have
prepared some check on the Spanish garrison; they would not have left
their hospital unguarded, or have so arranged that their own loss should
surpass that of the Spaniards; finally, they would have profited from
their policy after having suffered the injury. Moncey and Harispe were,
however, most active in restoring order, and, including the peasants
killed outside the gates and the executions afterwards, the whole number
of the Spanish slain did not exceed one hundred and twenty, while more
than five hundred French were killed. Amongst the wounded were seventy of
the imperial guards, which would alone disprove any premeditation: for
if Murat were base enough to sacrifice his men with such a detestable
policy, he would have given the conscripts to slaughter rather than the
select soldiers of the emperor.”]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]