MARIA CRISTINA, FERDINAND’S FOURTH WIFE--INTRIGUES AT COURT
1829-1832
On May 17, 1829, Queen Maria Amalia passed away. She was a most
virtuous and conscientious lady, and had she realized that the duties
of a Queen were not synonymous with those of an Abbess, the King and
the country would have been more benefited by her irreproachable life.
The atmosphere of the convent hung always about her, and when not
engaged in working for the poor she was occupied with her devotions.
When the King wished to walk with the Queen, he generally had to wait
till some sewing for the poor was completed; and in all the dissensions
between the King and his subjects his wife would sit silently weeping
or praying, but never try to understand anything about the struggle
between despotism and constitutionalism, which was tearing the
realm asunder. Moreover, Maria Amalia left the field free for the
presumptuous, frivolous women of the Court, when she decided never to
go to any theatre nor to allow any balls or parties at the palace.
A drive in the Retiro or the Prado was the only relaxation the royal
lady permitted herself, and it was there that the Portuguese Princess,
Maria Francisca de Braganza, the wife of Don Carlos, also took her
daily airing in a beautiful carriage drawn by six mules. The Princess
of Naples, Princess Luisa Carlota, wife of the Infante Don Francisco,
had long felt herself slighted by this haughty Princess, and by her
sister, the Princess de Beira, widow of the Infante Don Pedro, and
after the death of Queen Maria Amalia she determined to mature a plan
by which her position at Court would be improved. For, knowing the
susceptible nature of Ferdinand, and that his obstinate nature was
weak and yielding where the fair sex was concerned, his sister-in-law
determined that this susceptibility should be turned to account in the
person of her sister, Maria Cristina. The position of Luisa Carlota
had, moreover, always been somewhat ambiguous, from the open secret of
the relation of her husband with Godoy; and as this Prince and Princess
always thus felt themselves somewhat alien from the rest of the Royal
Family, they were strongly in favour of the Liberal party, which was in
direct opposition to Don Carlos, his wife, and the widowed Portuguese
Princess.
Thus, intrigue and enmity reigned between the two parties, and Luisa
Carlota could hardly conceal her triumphant feeling when, on showing
the King the portrait of her beautiful sister, she saw that his face
expressed admiration for the bonny girl, who was daughter of Francis I.
of Naples, the brother of his first wife, and therefore his niece by
marriage; and on December 11, 1829, the beautiful young Princess made
her formal entry into Madrid as the bride of the King.
[Illustration: QUEEN MARIA CRISTINA, MOTHER OF ISABELLA II.]
When the Princess arrived at Aranjuez with her parents, she was
received by the Infantes Francisco de Paula and Don Carlos, and so the
first formal words of welcome in the name of the King were addressed to
the bride by him who afterwards became her most bitter enemy and rival.
The impression made upon the Spanish people by the Italian Princess
during her journey from Barcelona to the capital was favourable. Her
beauty and youth appealed strongly to the susceptible Spaniards, and
her kindness of heart was seen in her suggestion that the soldiers
should put their cloaks on in the inclement weather; and on the day of
her triumphal entry into Madrid as their Queen, with the King at the
right side of her carriage and the Infantas on the left, the people
went wild with joy at what they considered as the dawn of a new era for
the realm. It was soon evident that the young Queen had great influence
over her husband. Unlike her predecessor on the throne, Maria Cristina
loved to take an active part in the affairs of the realm; and Don
Carlos, who had always had ascendancy over Ferdinand, found that his
position in the confidence of his brother was gradually on the wane.
The beautiful Princess tempered Ferdinand’s fury against those who had
revolted against him, and her gentle words and calm counsel were a
beneficent antidote to the advice of Calomarde and the Bishop of Leon.
As the influence of Maria Cristina increased, the power of the
Portuguese Princesses was lessened, and the enmity of the parties
became more and more marked.
When it was evident that an heir to the throne might be expected, Don
Carlos and his wife placed all their hopes on the chance of it being a
girl, for in that case he laid claim to be heir to the throne by virtue
of the Salic Law of Philip IV. Although Charles IV. had privately
abrogated this law, Don Carlos still considered that his right was
valid, as he was born in 1788, a year before its abrogation.
The power of the Queen over the King was still more marked after the
birth of their little daughter on October 10, 1830. As heiress to
the throne, Ferdinand commanded the same honours to be accorded the
infant Princess as were customary to be given to a Prince of Asturias.
With fresh hopes for the future of his family, the King turned his
thoughts to more liberal forms of Government than he had ever before
entertained. By an autograph letter he decreed the establishment of a
Liberal Ministry. But Calomarde and the Bishop played on the King’s
natural vacillation and cowardice to persuade him that the Liberals
would abuse the power against the throne.
Gout meanwhile made great inroads in the health of the King. One attack
followed another, until it became evident that the King’s life would
not be a long one. In view of her unsettled position, Queen Cristina
determined to ingratiate herself with the army, and to this end she
celebrated the completion of Isabel’s first year by bestowing on
different companies of the soldiers banners worked by her own hands.
The ceremony took place in the historic Hall of Columns in the Palace
of Madrid, and as the Queen graciously handed her beautiful work to the
Generals, she said: “On a day so dear to my heart I wished to give you
a proof of my affection by placing these banners in your hands, which
I trust they will never leave. And I am quite persuaded that you will
always know how to defend them with the valour which is proper to the
Spanish character, sustaining the rights of your King, Ferdinand VII.,
my very dear husband, and of his descendants.” A public proclamation to
the army expressed the same sentiments, and the bestowal of the gifts
received wide appreciation.
However, the intrigues in the palace grew apace, and one of the most
constant companions of the Queen was Teresita, a dressmaker, who was
raised to such a high position of favour that even Ministers asked her
intervention with Her Majesty for the introduction of people of such
high degree as grandees of Spain, etc. As Maria Cristina’s influence
increased, she managed to get rid of the Portuguese Princess de Beira,
under the pretext that her brother required her in her native land.
After the birth of a second little Princess, the King was with his wife
at La Granja, when he fell dangerously ill. The Infante Don Francisco
and his wife were in Andalusia, and Don Carlos with the Princess of
Beira; Don Sebastian and Doña Amalia were at the palace with the King.
The attack of illness, which commenced on September 13, became so
serious that his life was despaired of. It was then that Cristina
showed her true wifely affection. Dressed in the costume of Señora
del Carmen, the royal lady was a constant and indefatigable attendant
on the patient. It was from her hands alone that he received his
medicines, and it was she who administered all the means of alleviating
his sufferings. Ferdinand seemed to cling to his wife during this
terrible time, and to her he confided his distress at the thought of
leaving her a widow with the orphaned Princesses.
Indeed, distress of mind added so much to his physical sufferings
that Cristina sent for Calomarde to see what he could do to calm his
master. Calomarde gladly profited by the permission to enter the royal
apartment, for the Infantas were refused admittance.
When the King, between the fits of exhaustion that followed the attacks
of pain, explained to his Minister with great difficulty the ground
of his anxiety, Calomarde perfidiously expressed his opinion that,
in the event of his Majesty’s demise, the kingdom would declare in
favour of Don Carlos, and that the only means of saving the crown for
his daughter would be to associate his brother in the Government. It
was, indeed, suggested that the Queen was to be authorized to despatch
business during his illness, but it was to be with the help and advice
of the Prince.
The Bishop of Leon was then called into the King’s chamber to give his
opinion, and he echoed the advice of the Minister.
In the meanwhile the apartments of Don Carlos were a hotbed of
intrigue. “Now or never” was the feeling of the Pretender to the
throne, and self-interested people came and went in constant
consultation with the Prince, and to bring news of the condition of
the King. The Portuguese Princesses were keen and intent on all that
went on, whilst their faces betrayed their anxiety. When the Count
of Alcudia appeared with the King’s decree, Don Carlos definitively
declined to share any duties of government with the Queen, and on the
departure of the messenger the Infante again reverted to his silent and
thoughtful attitude.
The Count soon reappeared with a new decree, to the effect that Don
Carlos, in company with Cristina, should be appointed guardian of
the Infanta Isabel. To this Don Carlos also gave a haughty refusal,
saying that he could not thus resign the legitimate rights which God
gave him at his birth; and with these words he closed the door to all
negotiations for recognition of the little Princess’s right to the
throne. So the King was again a prey to anxiety, and the Bishop of
Leon and Calomarde so worked on Cristina’s nerves in their accounts of
the horrors that would beset the country under the civil war, which
was imminent with little Isabel as Queen, that, at her wits’ end to
know what to do, the poor lady finally exclaimed: “Only let Spain be
happy and tranquil with the benefits of peace and order!” And in this
overwrought state she herself besought the King to revoke the Salic
Law. So the deed was done, and the King commanded a codicil to be
drawn up, declaring that he had made this supreme sacrifice for the
tranquillity and peace of the kingdom, but the fact was to be kept
secret until after his death.
This moment seemed to follow very quickly on the portentous deed; for
Ferdinand fell into a lethargy which was believed to be death, for he
lay without any signs of life, and all efforts of the doctors to revive
him were useless.
Poor Cristina put her hand to her husband’s heart, and even as she
failed to detect any movement, and thought she was a dethroned widow,
she saw Calomarde, the Bishop of Leon, and all the other councillors,
leave the room without a word of sympathy or an offer of help.
That moment taught the Queen more of the worthlessness of friends
of the _camarilla_ type than she could have believed possible. The
sight of those men leaving her in that callous way, alone with her
supposed-to-be-dead husband, showed her that Madrid would be no place
for her and her little children were Don Carlos on the throne.
[Illustration: DON CARLOS DE BOURBON, DUKE OF MADRID]
So, with tears pouring down her face, Cristina at once began to collect
her jewels and make ready for her departure, whilst her brother-in-law
was already addressed as “His Majesty” in the antechamber, and the
Portuguese Princesses embraced each other with joy at the success of
their plans.
But two unexpected events happened which put a check to the triumph of
the Carlist party--the King showed signs of life, and the Infantas
Don Francisco and Doña Luisa Carlota suddenly arrived from Andalusia.
A few minutes’ conversation with her sister put Luisa Carlota in
possession of the whole story.
After reproaching Cristina for the weakness which had led her to
sacrifice her daughter’s throne to the intrigues of the Infantas, the
Princess sent for Calomarde, and a terrible scene took place. She
upbraided the Minister for the treacherous way he had played into the
hands of the Queen’s enemy, and had abandoned her in time of need; and
when he sought to justify himself, she gave way to such fury that she
struck him on the face.
For a moment the Princess seemed shocked at her own loss of temper,
but Calomarde’s courtier-like remark, that “white hands offend not,”
showed that no further resentment on his part would be shown. In the
meanwhile, as the King was supposed to be dead, the secret societies
noised abroad the news of the Revocation of the Pragmatic Sanction,
and Don José O’Donnell sent a secret circular to the authorities and
persons of the places in favour of Don Carlos.
In fact, albeit after September 28 immediate anxiety about the King’s
life was past, Maria Cristina felt that she was on the brink of a
revolution.
It was due to the magnanimity and kind-hearted nature of the Queen
that the King at this time finally signed the decree which buried the
hatchet of the revolution in Seville, and allowed all people to return
to their native land; and it was by this deed that the beautiful young
Queen gained a surer hold on the hearts of her subjects.
Cristina was, moreover, relieved from the presence of Calomarde on the
recovery of the King, for, as he could no longer expect the favour
or confidence of his Sovereigns, he left Spain for France, and there
remained until the day of his death.
It was on October 19 that Ferdinand and Cristina returned to the
capital after all the events which had so surely sifted true friends
from false flatterers. The atmosphere seemed clearer; the King saw
that it was necessary to make Cristina Regent during his daughter’s
minority, and with this triumph of her authority Cristina wore the
bright and joyous look of a tender wife, a loving mother, a heroic
Queen, and the liberator of Spain.
Ferdinand was certainly a wreck after his severe illness. As Don
Carlos said, “he was more a corpse than a man”; but he was alive, and,
after that terrible moment when Cristina had thought she was alone and
unprotected with the dead body of her husband, the fact of his being by
her side gave her a sense of protection.
The entry of the Sovereigns into Madrid was followed by a manifesto
from the Queen, in which she set forth her love to Spain, and a
declaration was published by the King, in which he annulled the codicil
which would have abrogated the Pragmatic Sanction. After stating the
facts of the Pragmatic Sanction, the King said:
“Perfidy completed the horrible plot which sedition commenced....
Being conversant now with the falsity with which the loyalty of my
beloved Spaniards was calumniated, as they are always faithful to the
descendants of their Kings; and being quite persuaded that it is not
in my power, nor in my desires, to break with the immemorial custom of
the succession established for centuries past, sanctioned by the law,
and followed by the illustrious heroines who have preceded me on the
throne; and solicited by the unanimous votes of the kingdoms, and free
now from the influence and coercion of those fatal circumstances--I
declare solemnly of my own free will that the decree signed at the
time of my illness was torn from me by surprise, and that it was the
effect of the false terrors which upset me, and that it is now null and
void, being contrary to the fundamental laws of the monarchy and the
obligations which I owe my august descendants, as father and as King.
“In my Palace of Madrid,
“December 31, 1832.”
Ferdinand’s feeling for his wife was shown in the public letter of
gratitude which was published soon after his return to Madrid. It ran
thus:
“_The King to my very dear and beloved Wife,
the Queen._
“During the very grave and painful illness with which the Divine
Providence saw fit to afflict me, the constant care and inseparable
companionship of Your Majesty have been my consolation and delight.
I never opened my eyes without seeing you by my side, and finding
palliatives for my pain in your face and words; I never received food
which did not come from your hand. It is to you I owe consolation in
my afflictions and the assuagement of my pain. Weakened by so much
suffering, and condemned to a long and tedious convalescence, I then
gave you the reins of government, so that the despatch of business
should not be delayed; and it is with joy that I have seen the singular
wisdom and diligence with which you have directed them, and have
abundantly justified my confidence. All the decrees that you have
expedited have been to advance public education, to dry the tears of
the unhappy, or to increase the general prosperity and the receipts of
my Exchequer. In fine, all your determinations have, without exception,
pleased me much as the wisest and the best for the happiness of the
people.
“Recovered from my illness, I once more take over the affairs, and
I give Your Majesty the most heartfelt thanks for your zeal in my
assistance, and for your efficiency in the government.
“The gratitude for such signal offices, which will always live in my
heart, will be a fresh stimulus and justification for the love with
which your talents and virtues have inspired me from the beginning.
“I am proud, and congratulate myself that you have not only been the
delight of the Spanish people since your advent to the throne, but
you have given me joy and peace, and are now an example of wifely
solicitude to wives and a model of administration to Queens.
“In the Palace, etc.”
In another decree the King commanded a medal to be struck in
commemoration of the actions with which the Queen had immortalized his
name.
It was indeed an affecting sight to see the way in which the King
clung to his domestic happiness at the decline of his life. Seated
in his large gilded chair, he smiled with pleasure at his children,
and he followed every movement of his wife with eyes in which love
and gratitude were evident. In the light of this love the cruel and
self-interested influence of the _camarilla_ was weakened. His nervous
nature found repose in the firm counsels of Cristina, and, with the
confidence with which she inspired him, he had no need to resort to the
duplicity which is so often born of distrust.
But a secret power was at work in the provinces, where the Bishop of
Leon sought to work the people up in favour of the Carlists, whilst
pretending devotion to the King. “What name can be so sweet to me as
the monarch’s?” he said--“a monarch to whom I owe all, and from whom
I have received confidences in matters of grave importance which I
cannot reveal, and therefore I know how much he desires the order and
tranquillity of his people.”
When the time drew near for the administration of the oath to Isabel as
heir to the throne, Ferdinand sent a letter to Don Carlos to ask if it
was his intention to attend the ceremony or not. To this question the
Infante replied that his conscience and his honour would not permit him
to be present at the function, as he could not resign his legitimate
rights to the throne in the event of his brother dying without a male
heir. God had given him these rights at his birth, and he hoped his
brother would explain the reason of his absence to the other Sovereigns
at the ceremony.
To this communication Ferdinand replied:
“MY VERY DEAR BROTHER OF MY LIFE, THE CHARLES OF MY HEART,--I have
received your letter of the 29th ult., and I am glad to see that you
and your wife and your children are well. We are the same, thank God.
I have always known how much you have loved me, and I believe you know
the affection which I have for you. But I am father and King, and I
have to consider my rights and those of my children, as well as those
of my crown. I do not wish to thwart the dictates of your conscience,
nor can I hope to dissuade you from your pretended rights; as, being
founded on a determination of men, God alone can change them. But my
love as a brother impels me to avoid the disagreeables which would
attend you in a country where your supposed rights are not recognized,
and the duties of a King oblige me to remove the presence of an Infante
whose pretensions might serve as a pretext to malcontents. So, as you
cannot, for high political reasons, and by the laws of the kingdom,
and for the sake of the tranquillity of the country, return to Spain,
I give you permission to travel henceforward with your family in the
Pontifical States, acquainting me with your destination and the place
of your residence.
“One of my men-of-war will arrive shortly at Lisbon to take you.
Spain is independent of all action and foreign influence in what
concerns internal arrangements, and I should be acting against the free
and complete sovereignty of my throne, and against the principle of
non-intervention adopted by the Cabinets of Europe, were I to make the
communication you ask me to make in your letter.
“Good-bye, my dear Charles; believe me that you have been loved, you
are loved, and you will be always loved, by your most affectionate and
unchangeable brother,
“FERDINAND.”
It was thus that Don Carlos made himself an exile, and the two
brothers, who had always been together in the many vicissitudes of
their lives, were now parted for ever.
To the King in his declining days it was doubtless a grief to be so
separated from one with whom he had always shared his thoughts, and
on whom he had so much depended. The companionship of Don Carlos
during his years of enforced residence at Valençay had saved him being
forlorn. However, the bright and cheerful society of Cristina during
these days, when the letters of Don Carlos showed how irreparable was
the breach between the brothers, was a great solace to the King.
The Queen was always energetic, bright, and busy. The painting of
“Cupid and Psyche” by her own hand, given to the Academy of San
Fernando, showed her talent for art; and her interest in literature was
seen in her asking Ferdinand to have a bust of Cervantes placed on the
front of the house of the great author. Moreover, the School of Music
owed its foundation to the same royal patroness.
The ceremony of the administration of the oath to Isabel, as heir to
the throne, finally took place with all the pomp and ceremony for
which the Court of Spain is so famous. The King and Queen stayed the
night preceding the function at the house called San Juan, in the
Buen Retiro, and from thence they proceeded in state to the same
Church of San Geronimo where Ferdinand himself received the oath of
allegiance in 1833, and where our Princess Ena became the bride of
Alfonso XIII. _Gentiles hombres_, grandees, and generals, made a
brilliant procession. Then came the Infantes Don Francisco and Don
Sebastian, followed by Their Majesties, walking on either side of
the heir-apparent, Princess Isabel, who was carried in the arms of a
lady-in-waiting. The procession concluded with the Ambassadors and
Chamberlains, and the Royal Guard playing the national air.
The Patriarch of the Indias was seated in front of the high-altar to
receive the oath, which was read aloud by a _Camarista de Castilla_.
The Infantes came in turn to the altar, where they knelt and repeated
the words of allegiance. Then they each kissed the hand of His Majesty,
who threw his arms round their necks; and they then kissed the hands
of the Queen and the Princess, and returned to their seats. The same
order of procedure was then followed by the other Infantes, Cardinals,
Archbishops and Bishops, grandees and dignitaries; and, the ceremony
over, the city was gay with fêtes.
A long correspondence then took place between the royal brothers, when
Don Carlos declined to leave the Peninsula.
As Don Carlos was favoured by the Jesuits of Spain, the plots of the
party were incessant; and in the palace itself the intrigues of the
party were seen in the Royal Guard.
It was on July 29 that Ferdinand died. He had been left alone with the
Queen to rest, when he was seized with a sudden attack of apoplexy. As
the death was so sudden, the Queen, remembering the recent occasion
when the alarm was false, said she would not have the body touched for
forty-eight hours.
At last the poor King was laid in state in the Salon of the
Ambassadors, and the funeral took place at the Escorial.
“Señor! Señor! Señor!” cried the Duke of Alagon, the Captain of the
Guards of the Royal Person; and as the solemn silence following these
cries was unbroken, the Captain said, “As you do not reply, señor, you
are really dead,” and then broke his wand of office and placed it at
the foot of the table on which lay the remains of his royal master.