But the fate of Spain was not now in the hands of her Kings. Were they
good or evil she was destined henceforth to drift in the currents of
_circumstance_, that sternest of masters, to whom her Kings as well
as her people would be obliged helplessly to bow. All that she now
possessed outside the borders of her own kingdom was the West Indies,
her colonies in America, North and South, and the Philippines,
that archipelago of a thousand isles in the southern Pacific, where
Magellan was slain by the savage inhabitants after he had discovered
it (1520).
Mexico and Peru had proved to be inexhaustible sources of wealth, and
when the gold and silver diminished, the Viceroys in these and the
other colonies could compel the people to wring rich products out of
the soil, enough to supply Spain's necessities. The inhabitants of
these colonies, composed of the aboriginal races with an admixture of
Spanish, had been treated as slaves and drudges for so many centuries
that they never dreamed of resistance, nor questioned the justice of a
fate which condemned them always to toil for Spain.
In the North the feeble colony planted in 1620 had expanded into
thirteen vigorous English colonies. France, too, had been colonizing
in America, and had drawn her frontier line from the mouth of the
Mississippi to Canada. In 1755 a collision occurred between England
and France over their American boundaries. By the year 1759, France
had lost Quebec and every one of her strongholds, and she formed an
alliance with Spain in a last effort to save her vanishing possessions
in America.
Spain's punishment for this interference was swift. England promptly
dispatched ships to Havana and to the Philippines; and when we read of
the Anglo-Saxon capturing Havana and the adjacent islands on one side
of the globe, and the City of Manila and fourteen of the Philippines
on the other, in the midsummer of 1762, it has a slightly familiar
sound. And when the old record further says, the "conquest in the West
Indies cost many precious lives, more of whom were destroyed by the
climate than by the enemy," and still again, "the capture of Manila
was conducted with marvelous celerity and judgment," we begin to
wonder whether we are reading the dispatches of the Associated Press
in 1898, or history!
In the treaty which followed these victories, upon condition of
England's returning Havana, and all the conquered territory excepting
a portion of the West India Islands, Spain ceded to her the peninsula
of Florida; while France, who was obliged to give to England all her
territory east of the Mississippi, gave to Spain in return for her
services the city of New Orleans, and all her territory west of the
great river. This territory was retroceded to France by Spain in the
year 1800, by the "Treaty of Madrid," and in 1803 was purchased by
America from Napoleon, under the title of "Louisiana."
There was a growing irritation in the Spanish heart against England.
She was crowding Spain out of North America, had insinuated herself
into the West India Islands, and she was mistress of Gibraltar. So
it was with no little satisfaction that they saw her involved in a
serious quarrel with her American colonies, at a time when a stubborn
and incompetent Hanoverian King was doing his best to destroy her.
The hour seemed auspicious for recovering Gibraltar, and also to drive
England out of the West Indies. The alliance with France had become a
permanent one, and was known as a _family compact_ between the Bourbon
cousins Louis XV. and Carlos III. France had at this time rather
distracting conditions at home; but she was thirsting for revenge at
the loss of her rich American possessions, and besides, a sentimental
interest in the brave people who had proclaimed their independence
from the mother country, and were fighting to maintain it, began to
manifest itself. It was fanned, no doubt, by a desire for England's
humiliation; but it assumed a form too chivalric and too generous for
Americans ever to discredit by unfriendly analysis of motive. Spain
cared little for the cause of the colonies; but she was quite willing
to help them by worrying and diverting the energies of England. So
she invested Gibraltar. A garrison of only a handful of men astonished
Europe by the bravery of its defense. Gibraltar was not taken by
the Bourbon allies, neither were the English driven out of the West
Indies. But it was a satisfaction to Spain to see her humbled by her
victorious colonies!
So Carlos III. had indirectly assisted in the establishment of a
republic on the confines of his Mexican Empire; apparently unconscious
of the contagion in the word _independence_. But he quickly learned
this to his sorrow. The story of the revolted and freed colonies sped
on the wings of the wind. And in Peru a brave descendant of the Incas
arose as a Deliverer. He led sixty thousand men into a vain fight for
liberty. Of course the effort failed, but a spirit had been awakened
which might be smothered, but never extinguished.
Carlos III. died in 1788 and was succeeded by his son Carlos IV.
During the miserable reign of this miserable King, France caught the
infection from the free institutions in America. The Republic she had
helped to create was fatal to monarchy in her own land. A revolution
accompanied by unparalleled horrors swept away the whole tyrannous
system of centuries and left the country a trembling wreck--but free.
The dream of a republic was brief. Napoleon gathered the imperfectly
organized government into his own hands, then by successive and rapid
steps arose to Imperial power. France was an Empire, and adoringly
submitted to the man who swiftly made her great and feared in Europe.
She had another Charlemagne, who was bringing to his feet Kings and
Princes, and annexing half of Europe to his empire!
Spain, all unconscious of his designs, and perhaps thinking this
invincible man might help her to get back Gibraltar and to drive the
English out of the West Indies, joined him in 1804 in a war against
Great Britain; and the following year the combined fleets of France
and Spain were annihilated by Lord Nelson off Cape Trafalgar. Family
dissensions in the Spanish royal household at this time were opportune
for Napoleon's designs. Carlos and his son Ferdinand were engaged
in an unseemly quarrel. Carlos appealed to Napoleon regarding the
treasonable conduct and threats of his son. Nothing could have better
suited the purposes of the Emperor. The fox had been invited to
be umpire! French troops poured into Spain. Carlos, under protest,
resigned in favor of his son, who was proclaimed Ferdinand VII.
(1807). The young King was then invited to meet the Emperor for
consultation at Bayonne. He found himself a prisoner in France, and to
Joseph Bonaparte, brother of the Emperor, was transferred the Crown of
Spain.
The nation seemed paralyzed by the swiftness and the audacity of these
overturnings. But soon popular indignation found expression. Juntas
were formed. The one at Seville, calling itself the Supreme Junta,
proclaimed an alliance with Great Britain; its purpose being the
expulsion of the French from their kingdom.
Spain was in a state of chaos. Joseph was not without Spanish
adherents, and there was no leader, no legitimate head to give
constitutional stamp to the acts of the protesting people, who without
the usual formalities convoked the Cortes. But while they were groping
after reforms, and while Lord Wellington was driving back the French,
Napoleon had met his reverse at Moscow, and a "War of Liberation" had
commenced in Germany.
The grasp upon the Spanish throne relaxed. The captive King had
permission to return, and the reign of Joseph was ended by his
ignominious flight from the kingdom, with one gold-piece in his pocket
(1814).