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.

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.

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.

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:

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 Cevallosg 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