PARIS, August, 1805.
MY LORD:--Notwithstanding the ties of consanguinity, honour, duty,
interest, and gratitude, which bound the Spanish Bourbons to the cause of
the Bourbons of France, no monarch has rendered more service to the cause
of rebellion, and done more harm to the cause of royalty, than the King
of Spain.
But here, again, you must understand me. When I speak of Princes whose
talents are known not to be brilliant, whose intellects are known to be
feeble, and whose good intentions are rendered null by a want of firmness
of character or consistency of conduct; while I deplore their weakness
and the consequent misfortunes of their contemporaries, I lay all the
blame on their wicked or ignorant counsellors; because, if no Ministers
were fools or traitors, no Sovereigns would tremble on their thrones, and
no subjects dare to shake their foundation. Had Providence blessed
Charles IV. of Spain with the judgment in selecting his Ministers, and
the constancy of persevering in his choice, possessed by your George
III.; had the helm of Spain been in the firm and able hands of a
Grenville, a Windham, and a Pitt, the Cabinet of Madrid would never have
been oppressed by the yoke of the Cabinet of St. Cloud, nor paid a heavy
tribute for its bondage, degrading as well as ruinous.
“This is the age of upstarts,” said Talleyrand to his cousin, Prince de
Chalais, who reproached him for an unbecoming servility to low and vile
personages; “and I prefer bowing to them to being trampled upon and
crushed by them.” Indeed, as far as I remember, nowhere in history are
hitherto recorded so many low persons who, from obscurity and meanness,
have suddenly and at once attained rank and notoriety. Where do we read
of such a numerous crew of upstart Emperors, Kings, grand pensionaries,
directors, Imperial Highnesses, Princes, Field-marshals, generals,
Senators, Ministers, governors, Cardinals, etc., as we now witness
figuring upon the theatre of Europe, and who chiefly decide on the
destiny of nations? Among these, several are certainly to be found whose
superior parts have made them worthy to pierce the crowd and to shake off
their native mud; but others again, and by far the greatest number of
these ‘novi homines’, owe their present elevation to shameless intrigues
or atrocious crimes.
The Prime Minister--or rather, the viceroy of Spain, the Prince of
Peace--belongs to the latter class. From a man in the ranks of the
guards he was promoted to a general-in-chief, and from a harp player in
antechambers to a president of the councils of a Prince; and that within
the short period of six years. Such a fortune is not common; but to be
absolutely without capacity as well as virtue, genius as well as good
breeding, and, nevertheless, to continue in an elevation so little
merited, and in a place formerly so subject to changes and so unstable,
is a fortune that no upstart ever before experienced in Spain.
An intrigue of his elder brother with the present Queen, then Princess of
Asturia, which was discovered by the King, introduced him first at Court
as a harp player, and, when his brother was exiled, he was entrusted with
the correspondence of the Princess with her gallant. After she had
ascended the throne, he thought it more profitable to be the lover than
the messenger, and contrived, therefore, to supplant his brother in the
royal favour. Promotions and riches were consequently heaped upon him,
and, what is surprising, the more undisguised the partiality of the Queen
was, the greater the attachment of the King displayed itself; and it has
ever since been an emulation between the royal couple who should the most
forget and vilify birth and supremacy by associating this man not only in
the courtly pleasures, but in the functions of Sovereignty. Had he been
gifted with sound understanding, or possessed any share of delicacy,
generosity, or discretion, he would, while he profited by their imprudent
condescension, have prevented them from exposing their weaknesses and
frailties to a discussion and ridicule among courtiers, and from becoming
objects of humiliation and scandal among the people. He would have
warned them of the danger which at all times attends the publicity of
foibles and vices of Princes, but particularly in the present times of
trouble and innovations. He would have told them: “Make me great and
wealthy, but not at the expense of your own grandeur or of the loyalty of
your people. Do not treat an humble subject as an equal, nor suffer Your
Majesties, whom Providence destined to govern a high-spirited nation, to
be openly ruled by one born to obey. I am too dutiful not to lay aside
my private vanity when the happiness of my King and the tranquillity of
my fellow subjects are at stake. I am already too high. In descending a
little, I shall not only rise in the eyes of my contemporaries, but in
the opinion of posterity. Every step I am advancing undermines your
throne. In retreating a little, if I do not strengthen, I can never
injure it.” But I beg your pardon for this digression, and for putting
the language of dignified reason into the mouth of a man as corrupt as he
is imbecile.
Do not suppose, because the Prince of Peace is no friend of my nation,
that I am his enemy. No! Had he shown himself a true patriot, a friend
of his own country, and of his too liberal Prince, or even of monarchy in
general, or of anybody else but himself--although I might have
disapproved of his policy, if he has any--I would never have lashed the
individual for the acts of the Minister. But you must have observed,
with me, that never before his administration was the Cabinet of Madrid
worse conducted at home or more despised abroad; the Spanish Monarch more
humbled or Spanish subjects more wretched; the Spanish power more
dishonoured or the Spanish resources worse employed. Never, before the
treaty with France of 1796, concluded by this wiseacre (which made him a
Prince of Peace, and our Government the Sovereign of Spain), was the
Spanish monarchy reduced to such a lamentable dilemma as to be forced
into an expensive war without a cause, and into a disgraceful peace, not
only unprofitable, but absolutely disadvantageous. Never before were its
treasures distributed among its oppressors to support their tyranny, nor
its military and naval forces employed to fight the battles of rebellion.
The loyal subjects of Spain have only one hope left. The delicate state
of his present Majesty’s health does not promise a much longer
continuance of his reign, and the Prince of Asturia is too well informed
to endure the guidance of the most ignorant Minister that ever was
admitted into the Cabinet and confidence of a Sovereign. It is more than
probable that under a new reign the misfortunes of the Prince of Peace
will inspire as much compassion as his rapid advancement has excited
astonishment and indignation.
A Cabinet thus badly directed cannot be expected to have representatives
abroad either of abilities or patriotism. The Admiral and General
Gravina, who but lately left this capital as an Ambassador from the Court
of Spain to assume the command of a Spanish fleet, is more valiant than
wise, and more an enemy of your country than a friend of his own. He is
a profound admirer of Bonaparte’s virtues and successes, and was, during
his residence, one of the most ostentatiously awkward courtiers of
Napoleon the First. It is said that he has the modesty and loyalty to
wish to become a Spanish Bonaparte, and that he promises to restore by
his genius and exploits the lost lustre of the Spanish monarchy. When
this was reported to Talleyrand, he smiled with contempt; but when it was
told to Bonaparte, he stamped with rage at the impudence of the Spaniard
in daring to associate his name of acquired and established greatness
with his own impertinent schemes of absurdities and impossibilities.
In the summer of 1793, Gravina commanded a division of the Spanish
fleet in the Mediterranean, of which Admiral Langara was the
commander-in-chief. At the capitulation of Toulon, after the combined
English and Spanish forces had taken possession of it, when Rear-Admiral
Goodall was declared governor, Gravina was made the commandant of the
troops. At the head of these he often fought bravely in different
sorties, and on the 1st of October was wounded at the re-capture of Fort
Pharon. He complains still of having suffered insults or neglect from
the English, and even of having been exposed unnecessarily to the fire
and sword of the enemy merely because he was a patriot as well as an
envied or suspected ally. His inveteracy against your country takes its
date, no doubt, from the siege of Toulon, or perhaps, from its
evacuation.
When, in May, 1794, our troops were advancing towards Collioure, he was
sent with a squadron to bring it succours, but he arrived too late, and
could not save that important place. He was not more successful at the
beginning of the campaign of 1795 at Rosa, where he had only time to
carry away the artillery before the enemy entered. In August, that year,
during the absence of Admiral Massaredo, he assumed ad interim the
command of the Spanish fleet in the Mediterranean; but in the December
following he was disgraced, arrested, and shut up as a State prisoner.
During the embassy of Lucien Bonaparte to the Court of Madrid, in the
autumn of 1800, Gravina was by his influence restored to favour; and
after the death of the late Spanish Ambassador to the Cabinet of St.
Cloud, Chevalier d’ Azara, by the special desire of Napoleon, was
nominated both his successor and a representative of the King of Etruria.
Among the members of our diplomatic corps, he was considered somewhat of
a Spanish gasconader and a bully. He more frequently boasted of his
wounds and battles than of his negotiations or conferences, though he
pretended, indeed, to shine as much in the Cabinet as in the field.
In his suite were two Spanish women, one about forty, and the other about
twenty years of age. Nobody knew what to make of them, as they were
treated neither as wives, mistresses, nor servants; and they avowed
themselves to be no relations. After a residence here of some weeks, he
was, by superior orders, waylaid one night at the opera, by a young and
beautiful dancing girl of the name of Barrois, who engaged him to take
her into keeping. He hesitated, indeed, for some time; at last, however,
love got the better of his scruples, and he furnished for her an elegant
apartment on the new Boulevard. On the day he carried her there, he was
accompanied by the chaplain of the Spanish Legation; and told her that,
previous to any further intimacy, she must be married to him, as his
religious principles did not permit him to cohabit with a woman who was
not his wife. At the same time he laid before her an agreement to sign,
by which she bound herself never to claim him as a husband before her
turn--that is to say, until sixteen other women, to whom he had been
previously married, were dead. She made no opposition, either to the
marriage or to the conditions annexed to it. This girl had a sweetheart
of the name of Valere, an actor at one of the little theatres on the
Boulevards, to whom she communicated her adventure. He advised her to be
scrupulous in her turn, and to ask a copy of the agreement. After some
difficulty this was obtained. In it no mention was made of her
maintenance, nor in what manner her children were to be regarded, should
she have any. Valere had, therefore, another agreement drawn up, in
which all these points were arranged, according to his own interested
views. Gravina refused to subscribe to what he plainly perceived were
only extortions; and the girl, in her turn, not only declined any further
connection with him, but threatened to publish the act of polygamy.
Before they had done discussing this subject, the door was suddenly
opened and the two Spanish ladies presented themselves. After severely
upbraiding Gravina, who was struck mute by surprise, they announced to
the girl that whatever promise or contract of marriage she had obtained
from him was of no value, as, before they came with him to France, he had
bound himself, before a public notary at Madrid, not to form any more
connections, nor to marry any other woman, without their written consent.
One of these ladies declared that she had been married to Gravina
twenty-two years, and was his oldest wife but one; the other said that
she had been married to him six years. They insisted upon his following
them, which he did, after putting a purse of gold into Barrois’s hand.
When Valere heard from his mistress this occurrence, he advised her to
make the most money she could of the Spaniard’s curious scruples. A
letter was, therefore, written to him, demanding one hundred thousand
livres--as the price of secrecy and withholding the particulars of this
business from the knowledge of the tribunals and the police; and an
answer was required within twenty-four hours. The same night Gravina
offered one thousand Louis, which were accepted, and the papers returned;
but the next day Valere went to his hotel, Rue de Provence, where he
presented himself as a brother of Barrois. He stated that he still
possessed authenticated copies of the papers returned, and that he must
have either the full sum first asked by his sister, or an annuity of
twelve thousand livres settled upon her. Instead of an answer, Gravina
ordered him to be turned out of the house. An attorney then waited on
His Excellency, on the part of the brother and the sister, and repeated
their threats and their demands, adding that he would write a memorial
both to the Emperor of the French and to the King of Spain, were justice
refused to his principals any longer.
Gravina was well aware that this affair, though more laughable than
criminal, would hurt both his character and credit if it were known in
France; he therefore consented to pay seventy-six thousand livres more,
upon a formal renunciation by the party of all future claims. Not having
money sufficient by him, he went to borrow it from a banker, whose clerk
was one of Talleyrand’s secret agents. Our Minister, therefore, ordered
every step of Gravina to be watched; but he soon discovered that, instead
of wanting this money for a political intrigue, it was necessary to
extricate him out of an amorous scrape. Hearing, however, in what a
scandalous manner the Ambassador had been duped and imposed upon, he
reported it to Bonaparte, who gave Fouche orders to have Valere, Barrois,
and the attorney immediately transported to Cayenne, and to restore
Gravina his money. The former part of this order the Minister of Police
executed the more willingly, as it was according to his plan that Barrois
had pitched upon Gravina for a lover. She had been intended by him as a
spy on His Excellency, but had deceived him by her reports--a crime for
which transportation was a usual punishment.
Notwithstanding the care of our Government to conceal and bury this
affair in oblivion, it furnished matter both for conversation in our
fashionable circles, and subjects for our caricaturists. But these
artists were soon seized by the police, who found it more easy to
chastise genius than to silence tongues. The declaration of war by Spain
against your country was a lucky opportunity for Gravina to quit with
honour a Court where he was an object of ridicule, to assume the command
of a fleet which might one day make him an object of terror. When he
took leave of Bonaparte, he was told to return to France victorious, or
never to return any more; and Talleyrand warned him as a friend,
“whenever he returned to his post in France to leave his marriage mania
behind him in Spain. Here,” said he, “you may, without ridicule,
intrigue with a hundred women, but you run a great risk by marrying even
one.”
I have been in company with Gravina, and after what I heard him say, so
far from judging him superstitious, I thought him really impious. But
infidelity and bigotry are frequently next-door neighbours.