Robert Southey

MURAT ENTERS MADRID. THE ROYAL FAMILY INVEIGLED TO BAYONNE. TRANSACTIONS AT THAT PLACE.

?1808.
March.

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Ministry formed by Ferdinand.?

The first act of Ferdinand VII. evinced either his delusion with respect to the designs of Buonaparte, or his fear of offending him; it was to dispatch instructions that Solano’s troops, which were on their march to Talavera, should remain under Junot’s orders; and that the French, who were approaching Madrid, should be received as friends and allies. The new King reappointed the five Secretaries of State, whose offices terminated with the former reign. D. Pedro Cevallos, who was one, sent in his resignation; perhaps he wished to withdraw as much as possible from increasing difficulties and dangers, against which there appeared no remedy; and he was conscious that some degree of unpopularity attached to him because of his connexion with Godoy. Ferdinand, however, by a public decree, refused to accept his resignation: it had been proved to him, he said, that though Cevallos had married a cousin of the Prince of the Peace, he never participated in the projects of which that man was accused; and he was therefore a servant of whom the King would not deprive himself. It was affirmed by the Prince and his friends that Godoy had actually aspired to the throne; an accusation too absurd for any but the vulgarest credulity of an inflamed people. This wretched minion now felt that there are times when despotism itself proves even-handed as justice. He was sent prisoner to the Castle of Villa Viciosa: with that measure wherewith he had dealt to others, it was now meted to him; a judicial inquiry into his conduct was ordered, ?Godoy’s property confiscated without a trial.? and before any trial, ... before any inquiry, the whole of his property was confiscated. Processes were also instituted against his brother, and many of his creatures. The decree which announced this declared Ferdinand’s intention of speedily coming to the capital to be proclaimed; expressing however his wish that the inhabitants would previously give him proofs of their tranquillity, since he had communicated to them his efficient edict against the late favourite. By the same proclamation the Duque del Infantado, a nobleman of the highest character, was appointed to the command of the Royal Spanish Guards, and to the presidency of Castille. All those persons who were confined in consequence of the affair which happened at the Escurial (thus the conspiracy was spoken of) were recalled near his royal person. D. Miguel Jose de Azanza, a man of high character, who had held the important office of viceroy of Mexico, was made minister of finance; D. Gonzalo de O’Farril, who had recently returned from a military command in Tuscany, was first appointed director general of the artillery, and presently afterwards minister of war. The Marquis Caballero was retained in the council; and, true to the maxims and spirit of the vile system which he had so long supported, he contrived to give a character of ungraciousness to the best act of the new government. Next to the punishment of Godoy, what all men most desired was the release of Jovellanos; an order was immediately issued for this, but it passed through Caballero’s hand, and he, instead of wording it in those honourable terms which were designed by the new King, expected by the people, and required by the case, expressed the royal pleasure as if it were an act of grace conferred upon a pardoned criminal, not an act of justice to an irreproachable and injured man. The new government suspended the sale of certain church property, upon which the fallen minister had ventured in the plenitude of his power; and they issued an edict for destroying wolves, foxes, and other animals, which had been preserved about the royal residences to gratify Charles’s passion for the chase. These measures were intended to court popular favour, and to cast a reproach upon the late reign. Some vexatious imposts were taken off; and a part of the police establishment of Madrid, which had been peculiarly odious, was abolished. The people regarded these acts as unequivocal proofs of the new Monarch’s excellent intentions; and the accession of Ferdinand was considered by those who were ignorant of the difficulties by which he was beset, and of the perilous circumstances of the country, as the commencement of a Saturnian age, and as the point of time from which the regeneration of Spain would be dated.

?Murat enters Spain. March 3.?

Meantime Joachim Murat, brother-in-law of Buonaparte and Grand Duke of Berg and Cleves, had arrived in Spain to take the command of all the French forces in that country. As soon as his arrival was known, Charles and Godoy dispatched an officer of artillery, by name Velarde, to congratulate him, on the part of the King, and to take care that nothing was wanting for the subsistence and accommodation of his troops. Murat reached Aranda, on the Duero, on the 17th, the day when the first disturbances broke out at Aranjuez; and there he desired Velarde would write to the court and inform them that his instructions were to march rapidly towards Cadiz; but that he should perhaps take it upon himself to stop some days at Madrid, though he had no orders to that effect: he should not, however, proceed farther than St. Augustine’s without having determined with the Spanish government the number of troops which were to enter the capital, and the time and the manner, so that they might be no charge to the inhabitants. He added, that he was in momentary expectation of dispatches from his master; that he should very soon be able to inform the Spanish nation what were the Emperor’s views; that he could now positively announce his intention of going to Madrid, and that probably in the course of eight days he would have crossed the Pyrenees. Velarde’s letter, which communicated this intelligence, was addressed to the Prince of the Peace; but it was received by the new ministers, and it increased their perplexities and alarms.

?The people of Madrid exhorted to receive the French as friends.?

They informed the people however by a proclamation, that their King had notified the happy event of his accession to the French Emperor, and assured him, that far from changing the political system of his father toward France, he would endeavour to draw closer the bonds of friendship and strict alliance, which so fortunately subsisted between the French Emperor and Spain. This communication, it was said, was made in order that the council of Madrid might act conformably to the King’s sentiments, by taking measures for restoring tranquillity in the metropolis, as well as for receiving the French troops who were about to enter that city, and for administering to them every requisite assistance. They were to endeavour also to convince the people that these troops were coming as friends, and for purposes advantageous to the King and to the nation. The very fact that it was thought necessary to tell the people this, shows that they were not so besotted as to believe it. These were strange times, when a Spanish King informed the people of his measures, and, as it were, appealed to popular opinion; ... but stranger events were at hand.

All the foreign ministers congratulated Ferdinand upon his accession, except Beauharnois, from whom, after the part which he had taken concerning the expected marriage and throughout the affair of the Escurial, congratulation might first have been expected; he withheld this act of recognition, because he had not been furnished with the necessary instructions. ?The French enter Madrid.? Murat was now advancing toward Madrid, and the general anxiety was heightened by the more unexpected intelligence that Buonaparte himself, he who made and unmade princes with a breath, was on the way to Bayonne. He supposed that the royal family were at this time on the coast and on the point of embarkation, and that the people, in their fear of anarchy, would receive the French commander with open arms as their deliverer. The occurrences at Aranjuez were altogether unexpected; and as soon as he was informed of them, Murat accelerated his march. The approach of such an army, the silence of the French Ambassador, the mysteriousness of Buonaparte, and his journey to Spain, perplexed and alarmed Ferdinand. He had communicated his accession to this Emperor in the most friendly and affectionate terms; ... fear could suggest no other. Lest this should be deemed insufficient, he appointed a deputation of three grandees to proceed to Bayonne, and compliment him in his name; and another grandee was sent, in like manner, to compliment Murat, who had already reached the vicinity of Madrid. This worthy agent was fully in his master’s confidence; he assured Ferdinand that Buonaparte might be every moment expected; and he spoke publicly of his coming. Orders were therefore given for preparing apartments in the palace suitable for such a guest; and the King, whose fears made him restless, wrote again to Buonaparte, saying how much he desired to become personally acquainted with him, and to assure him, with his own lips, of his ardent wishes to strengthen more and more the alliance which subsisted between them. ?Mar. 23.? Murat, evidently for the purpose of displaying his forces, reviewed them before the walls; then made his entrance into Madrid, preceded by the imperial horse-guards, and by his staff, and followed by all the cavalry, and by the first division of foot under General Mounier; two other divisions were encamped without the city, and a detachment proceeded to take possession of Toledo. Ferdinand made his public entry on horseback the following ?Mar. 24.? day, amid the ringing of bells and the discharge of artillery, but with no other parade than that which, under happier circumstances, would have been the most grateful of all spectacles; ... a concourse of all the people of the capital and its vicinity, rejoicing in his presence, and testifying, by their acclamations, that they expected from him the regeneration of their country. But never did poor prince succeed to such a crown of thorns.

The conduct of the French Ambassador had shown what was to be expected from the French General. Murat declared that until the Emperor Napoleon had acknowledged Ferdinand VII. it was impossible for him to take any step which might appear like such an acknowledgment: he therefore must be under the necessity of treating with the royal family. But Murat was better acquainted than Beauharnois with his master’s designs; as if taking the deposed King and Queen under his protection, he sent a numerous body of troops to Aranjuez to guard them; and he caused it to be understood that the French would interpose in behalf of Godoy. Both these measures might have been taken with honourable designs; but when the French General, Grouchy, ?General Grouchy made Governor of Madrid.? was made governor of Madrid, a sort of military government established there, and patroles instituted to preserve the peace, under the joint superintendence of a French officer and a Spaniard, sufficient indications were given of an intention to occupy the capital as the frontier fortresses had been occupied. A legitimate government which should have had no other cause of disquietude, would have been perplexed at such a crisis; but the attention of Ferdinand and his ministers was distracted by personal considerations: instead of feeling like the sovereign of a proud and ancient people, the new King was in the situation of one who had to defend a bad title, and that not by an appeal to arms, but tremblingly before a superior and a judge.

?Declaration concerning the affair of the Escurial, March 31.?

A declaration concerning the affair of the Escurial was made public on the last day of the month, for the purpose of proving that neither Escoiquiz, nor the Duque del Infantado, nor the other persons implicated in the charge of conspiracy, had been guilty of any misconduct. It was acknowledged that the Prince had in his own hand-writing commissioned Infantado to assume the command of the troops in New Castille, in case of his father’s demise, and the alleged reason was a fear lest Godoy should continue at such a time to make an improper use of his influence and power. Such a pretext was too shallow to obtain belief in any calm or considerate mind: the King’s age and state of health rendered it probable that he might live many years, and in the event of his death, no man doubted but that Godoy, who held his power only upon favouritism, must instantly become the wretch that this revolution made him. As for his aspiring to the throne himself, it is impossible that he should even for a moment have entertained so frantic a thought, and almost as impossible that they who made the charge against him should themselves have believed it.

?The abdication represented as a voluntary act.?

In the deed of abdication Charles called it his own free and voluntary act, and especial care was taken by the new administration to represent it as such. He had certainly remembered the examples of Charles V. and Philip V. and a thought of imitating them had passed across his mind in moments when difficulties pressed upon him, and he was sick of the cares of government. This is certain: it is probable also that the Prince’s party might not have formed the plan of sending him into retirement unless they had known that he himself had entertained, however transiently, a wish of retiring. To talk even among themselves of deposing the King, would have had a startling sound; and have brought into the prospect scaffolds and executioners as well as places and power. But it was easy to persuade both themselves and Ferdinand that their object was so to act as to make his father carry into effect that wish and wise intention, which, without some such external motive, he would for ever want resolution to effect for himself. They may have reasoned thus, and have meant well, and have acted with a patriotic purpose; nevertheless the act itself bore marks of deposition27, not less decided than the abdication of James in England.

?Charles complains to the French.?

These circumstances tallied well with Buonaparte’s designs, and they were dexterously improved by Murat. Even before he entered Madrid, General Mouthion was dispatched to Aranjuez with a letter to the Queen of Etruria, which contained assurances to the deposed King of Buonaparte’s support. A snare was laid for the imbecile Charles, and he rushed into it. However compulsory the act of abdication might have been, it was now as much his interest as that of his family, that he should acquiesce in it. But actuated by a sense of his wrongs, and still more perhaps by the Queen, who, trembling for her paramour, hated her son with all the virulence of an adulterous mother, he committed his last and consummating folly, by appealing to the very tyrant, whose open and undisguised aggressions had driven him, not a week before, to the resolution of abandoning his throne and seeking refuge in America. He assured Mouthion that the revolution had been preconcerted and brought about by money; that his son and Caballero were the chief agents; that he had signed the act of abdication only to save the Queen’s life and his own, knowing that if he had refused they would both have been murdered in the course of the night. The conduct of the Prince of Asturias was more shocking, he added, inasmuch as having perceived his desire to reign, and being himself near threescore years of age, he had agreed to surrender the crown to him on his marriage with a French princess, an event which he, the King, ardently desired. The Prince, he added, chose that he and the Queen should retire to Badajoz, though he had remonstrated against the climate as injurious to his health, and entreated permission to choose another place, his wish being to obtain leave of the Emperor to purchase an estate where he might end his days. The Queen said she had begged her son at least to postpone their departure for Badajoz, but even this was refused, and they were to set out on the following Monday. This fact alone would evince how little the inclinations of Charles were consulted throughout these transactions. The part of Spain where Badajoz stands is notoriously unhealthy during the summer months; and to have fixed upon that place for the residence of the deposed monarch, and persisted in the choice after he had objected to it on the score of his health, implied in the new government an equal want of feeling and of sense.

?He writes to Buonaparte, entreating him to interfere.?

Having made these complaints, Charles delivered into Mouthion’s hands a formal protest, declaring that the decree of abdication was compulsory, and therefore invalid. He charged him also with a letter for the Emperor. “Sir, my brother,” he said, “you will not without some interest behold a King, who having been forced to resign his crown, throws himself into the arms of a great monarch his ally, placing every thing at the disposal of him who alone can make his happiness and that of all his family, and of his faithful and beloved subjects. I abdicated in favour of my son only under the pressure of circumstances, when the noise of arms and the clamours of a rebellious guard made me sufficiently understand that my choice was between life and death, and that my death would have been followed by the Queen’s. ?1808. April.? I have been compelled to resign; but taking hope this day, and full of confidence in the magnanimity and genius of the great man who has already shown himself my friend, I have resolved to remit myself in every thing to him, that he may dispose as he thinks good both of us and our fate, that of the Queen and of the Prince of the Peace.” Having consigned this letter to Mouthion, who may be suspected of having dictated the latter expressions, he renewed his complaints. His situation, he said, was one of the most deplorable. They had seized the Prince of the Peace and would put him to death, for no other crime than that of having been at all times attached to his sovereign. There were no solicitations which he had not made to save the life of his unhappy friend, but he found every one deaf to his prayers and bent upon vengeance; and the death of Godoy would draw after it his own, for he should not survive him.

?Letters of the Queen to Murat.?

No King ever placed his favour more unworthily than Charles, but there was a sincerity in his friendship which almost amounts to virtue, and would have done honour to a better monarch. The Queen’s attachment also, which is more easily explained, had a character of enduring passion and self-abandonment seldom to be found in one at once so vicious and so weak. From this time she wearied Murat with letters, written in the most barbarous French and most confused manner, wherein she expressed her fears and her resentments. Ferdinand, she said, was the enemy of the French, though he declared the contrary. Infantado was very wicked; the priest Escoiquiz one of the most wicked; and San Carlos, the most crafty of all, had received all that he had from the King at the solicitation of the poor Prince of the Peace, whom he called his relation. She had no other support than the Grand Duke and the Emperor, those two sacred and incomparable persons.... But the Prince of the Peace made the burthen of every letter. “Nothing interests us,” she said, “but the safe condition of our only and innocent friend the Prince of the Peace, the friend of the Grand Duke; even in his prison when he exclaimed on the horrid treatment they were giving him, he called always upon his friend the Grand Duke. Before this conspiracy he wished for his arrival, and that he would deign to accept of his house as a residence.... He had presents to make him.... We are in constant fear of their killing or poisoning him. Let the Grand Duke cause troops to go without telling why, and without giving a moment of time to fire a pistol at him separate the guard that is set over him, which has no other glory in view, no other desire but to kill him, ... that innocent friend, so devoted to the French, to the Grand Duke and the Emperor, the poor Prince of the Peace. They heap crimes on this innocent Prince, our common and only friend, to inflame the public the more, and make them believe it is right to inflict on him all possible infamy. Afterwards they will come to me; ... they will make his head be cut off in public, and afterwards mine, for they say so.... He suffers because he is a friend of the Grand Duke, of the Emperor, and of the French; the Grand Duke and the Emperor are they alone who can save him, and if he be not saved and given to us, the King my husband and I will die.” Every letter was filled with these anxious solicitations: of the throne there seemed to be neither care nor thought; with the mob at Aranjuez before her eyes, and the recollection of Marie Antoinette in her heart, this wretched woman was sick of royalty; she asked only an allowance for the King, herself, and Godoy, upon which they might live all three together, in a situation suiting their health; ... a corner wherein they might quietly finish their days; ... some place near France, to be within reach of help against the bloody hands of his enemies. Her feelings toward Ferdinand were not less strongly expressed than her attachment to Godoy. “My son,” she says, “has a very bad heart: his character is bloody; his counsellors are bloody; they take pleasure only in making wretchedness, and his heart has no feeling for father or mother. He will make his enmity to the French appear when he thinks he can see occasion.... I fear they will make some attempt against them; ... the people are gained with money. When the Grand Duke shall have placed the poor Prince of the Peace in safety, let rather strong measures be taken, for otherwise intrigues will go on increasing, above all, against the poor friend of the Grand Duke and me; and the King my husband is not secure.”

?The Infante D. Carlos sent to meet Buonaparte.?

Charles’s protest and his appeal to Buonaparte were concealed from Ferdinand, and the correspondence with Murat was carried on by means of the Queen of Etruria, who having witnessed all which had passed at Aranjuez, and being therefore a competent judge how far the abdication of her father was voluntary, took part decidedly against her brother. Murat’s intention was to frighten him into the toils; an alarm that should have made him start, would have ruined the plot. The interest which this Grand Duke affected for Godoy, his refusal to acknowledge the new government, and the respect which he paid to Charles, all tended to this end. The rumour of Buonaparte’s coming was carefully spread abroad; fresh couriers were said to have arrived: ... the Emperor had left Paris, and might speedily be expected in Madrid. Packages came marked as his, his hat and his boots were shown, Murat gave minute directions concerning the Emperor’s bath, and accepted a table of twenty covers for him, and another for his suite. Preparations were made for processions to do honour to the august visitor, and for balls at the Palace of the Buen Retiro. The soldiers were told that he would lose no time in putting himself at the head of his armies in Spain; ?April 2.? they were ordered to put themselves in a state to appear before him; and in this proclamation, which appeared in a Madrid gazette extraordinary, the ominous notice was given, that they would immediately be supplied with cartridge. It was hinted that it would be a delicate compliment to the Emperor, if the Infante, Don Carlos, (Ferdinand’s next brother,) would set off to receive him on the way. His Highness, Murat said, could not fail to meet him before he had proceeded two days upon his road. This was readily agreed to, and the Infante, accompanied by the Duke del Infantado, departed upon this fatal journey. ?Ferdinand is urged to go and meet the Emperor.? Having secured this victim, Murat endeavoured to entice Ferdinand himself into the snare: what had at first been hinted at, and advised as a mark of attentive consideration, was now pressed upon him as a thing of importance; a measure which would be attended with the happiest consequences to himself and the kingdom. The young King hesitated; it was more than courtesy required, more than an ally was entitled to expect, and perhaps he felt that it was more than a King of Spain ought to perform. Cevallos constantly advised him not to leave his capital till he had received certain intelligence that Buonaparte had passed the Pyrenees, and was approaching Madrid; and even then he urged him to proceed so short a way, that it should not be necessary for him to sleep out of his capital more than a single night. His advice prevailed for a time against the repeated solicitations of Murat and the ambassador Beauharnois. It became necessary, therefore, to introduce a new actor in this detestable plot.

?The sword of Francis I. restored to the French.?

During the interval which elapsed before another agent could appear, Murat informed Cevallos that the Emperor would be gratified if the sword of Francis I. were presented to him; and he desired that this might be intimated to the new King. It might be supposed that this was designed not merely to gratify the French nation, but also to lower Ferdinand in the opinion of the Spaniards, if Buonaparte and his agents had ever taken the nobler feelings of our nature into their calculation. But it was a mere trick for the Parisians; and neither they nor the tyrant himself felt that France was far more dishonoured by the circumstances under which the sword was recovered, than by the ?March 31.? manner in which it had been lost. Accordingly this trophy of Pescara’s victory, which had lain since the year 1525 in the royal armoury at Madrid, was carried in a silver basin, under a silken cloth laced and fringed with gold, to Murat’s head-quarters, in a coach and six, preceded by six running footmen, and under the charge of the superintendent of the arsenal; the grand equerry and the Duke del Parque following in a second equipage with the same state. A detachment of the guards escorted them, and the sword was presented by the Marquis of Astorga to Murat; he, it was said, having been brought up by the side of the Emperor, and in the same school, and illustrious for his military talents, was more worthy than any other person could be to be charged with so precious a deposit, and to transmit it into the hands of his Imperial Majesty. The people of Madrid passively beheld the surrender of this trophy; it was the act, however compulsory, of their lawful king, the king of their choice; the compulsion was neither avowed on the one side, nor confessed on the other; from the imputation of beholding it with indifference, they amply redeemed themselves. Murat, upon receiving it, pronounced a flattering eulogium upon the Spanish nation, ... that nation which he was in the act of plundering, and which he came to betray and to enslave.

?Alarm of the people.?

In spite of the patroles and rounds, and military government, the suspicions of the people began to manifest themselves more and more, and their poor Prince was compelled, while he concealed his own fears, to exert his authority for suppressing theirs. ?April 3.? By a new edict, it was enacted, that no liquors should be sold after eight in the evening; master-manufacturers and tradesmen were ordered to give notice to the police if any of their workmen or apprentices absented themselves from their work; fathers of families were enjoined to keep their children and domestics from mixing with seditious assemblies, and to restrain them by good example, good advice, and the fear of punishment. The King, it was said, was grieved to perceive that the imprudence or malevolence of a few individuals attempted to disturb the good understanding between the people of Madrid and the troops of his intimate and august ally; and, as this conduct arose, perhaps, from a ridiculous and groundless misapprehension of the intention of those troops who were quartered in that city, and in other parts of the kingdom, he affirmed, that his subjects ought to set aside every fear of that nature, for the intention of the French government accorded with his own; and so far from concealing any hostile prospects, or the slightest invasion, had no other object than the great measures requisite against their common enemy. If, however, any person, after this declaration, should be rash enough, either by words or actions, to aim at disturbing the friendship between the two nations, the guilty would be most rigorously punished, without remission and without delay.

?Perplexity of Ferdinand and his ministers.?

In thus attempting to quiet the just alarm of the people, Ferdinand’s ministers affected a security which they were far from feeling. Murat had fixed his head-quarters in Godoy’s house, within two hundred steps of the palace; not like a visitor or the representative of a friendly power, but as the general of an army with his staff, a numerous guard, and pieces of field artillery, evidently brought there rather for use than for parade. He had ten thousand men in the city, and forty thousand surrounding it, horse and foot, in perfect discipline, and provided with every thing, as if they were the next hour to take the field. Their communication with Bayonne was kept open by thirty thousand more, all of whom, if they were needed, might within a few days arrive to support the main body of the army: there was Junot with a force estimated at thirty thousand men in Portugal, ready to co-operate; while of the Spanish army the flower had been sent under Romana to the North, some were under the French orders in Italy; the rest under their power in Portugal; there remained three thousand troops in Madrid, and a single Swiss regiment in Toledo, of which the fidelity was suspected. The privy council, rather that it might be said they had made the inquiry than for any hope of profiting by it, demanded from the minister of war, Olaguer Feliu, an account of the number of troops in Spain, and their present situation. His answer was, that neither he, nor those in his department, had been permitted to meddle with these things; Godoy was the only person who knew; but that he believed, according to the general opinion, that except the scanty garrisons in the sea-ports and at S. Roque, the few troops which remained in the Peninsula were in Portugal under Junot.

A thought of the safest course in this exigence seems to have passed across the mind of Escoiquiz, ... that Ferdinand should escape from Madrid to Algeziras, where there were more troops than in any other part of his dominions, and from whence he could always command a sure retreat to Gibraltar. But this thought was speedily dismissed; resistance was never seriously contemplated: perplexed and helpless as Ferdinand and his counsellors were, they willingly deceived themselves as to the impending danger, and there came at this time ?Dispatches from Izquierdo.? dispatches from Izquierdo, the favourite’s agent at Paris, which contributed greatly to deceive them. These letters stated the result of his conferences since he returned from Aranjuez, with Duroc, the grand marshal of the imperial palace, and with Talleyrand. An arrangement, they said, between the French and Spanish governments, might arrest the course of events, and lead to a solemn and definitive treaty upon these bases: 1st, That there should be a perfect reciprocity of free commerce for French and Spaniards in their respective colonies; each granting to the other this privilege, to the exclusion of all other nations. 2ndly, Portugal being possessed by France, France necessarily required a military road to that country; and the continual passage of troops through Spain, to garrison it and defend it against England, would be a constant occasion of expense, of disputes, and unpleasant consequences, which might all be avoided, France giving the whole of Portugal to Spain, and receiving an equivalent in the Spanish provinces adjacent to her own empire. 3rdly, The succession of the throne must be regulated once for all: and, lastly, there must be an offensive and defensive alliance. Upon these grounds, the French negotiators said, an arrangement might be concluded which would terminate happily the actual crisis between France and Spain. Izquierdo remarked, in transmitting these propositions, that when the existence and honour of the state and the government were thus matter of discussion, the decision must come from the Sovereign and his council; nevertheless, that his ardent love for his country had compelled him to make some observations to Talleyrand upon each of these points. Upon the first he had observed, that to open the commerce of the Spanish Americas to France was in reality to divide them with that power; and, moreover, that unless the pride of England were effectually beaten down, such a measure would render peace more distant than ever, while till peace was made, the communications of both countries with those colonies would be cut off. He added, that even if French commerce were permitted, French subjects could not be allowed to settle there, in derogation of the fundamental laws. With regard to Portugal, he reminded Talleyrand of the secret treaty of Fontainebleau, the sacrifice of the King of Etruria, the little that Portugal was worth, if separated from its colonies, and its utter uselessness to Spain: then for the cession of the Pyrenean provinces, he had dwelt upon the horror which the loss of their laws, liberties, privileges, and language, would excite in the people, and their abhorrence at being transferred to a foreign power; adding, that as a Navarrese himself he never could sign a treaty for ceding Navarre to France, and by such an act draw upon himself the execration of his countrymen. But Izquierdo, who was but too well assured that the French government demanded in such negotiations as these nothing which it was not determined to obtain, qualified his objections by hinting, that if there were no other remedy, a new kingdom or viceroyalty of Iberia might be erected, and given to the King of Etruria, or some other Infante of Castille. In reply to the point of succession, he stated what the King had commanded him to say, and in a manner which he supposed would counteract whatever calumnies had been invented by the malignant in one country, and infected public opinion in the other: ... these expressions probably allude to Charles’s intention of withdrawing from the government, and to the reports that Godoy was seeking to set aside Ferdinand from his inheritance. Lastly, with something of a Spaniard’s feeling, he asked Talleyrand if it was expected that Spain must be put upon a footing with the states of the Confederacy of the Rhine, and obliged to furnish her contingent, covering this tribute with the decorous name of a treaty offensive and defensive? Being at peace with France, she needed not the help of France against any other enemy, as Teneriffe, and Ferrol, and Buenos Ayres, might bear witness. Izquierdo added, in his dispatch, that the marriage was a thing determined; that there would be no difficulty as to the title of Emperor, which the King was to take; that he had been asked whether the royal family were going to Andalusia, and replied according to the truth, that he knew nothing of their intentions. He had in vain solicited that the French troops should evacuate Castille, and he requested that not a moment might be lost in replying to this communication, for the least delay in concluding an arrangement might produce fatal consequences.

?The ministers deceived by these dispatches.?

If these dispatches had been written for the purpose of deceiving those into whose hands they fell, they could not have been better adapted to that intent. Under Godoy the foreign minister knew as little concerning the state of foreign negotiations, as the minister at war knew of the state of the army; and when the bearer of these papers, finding the favourite in prison, delivered them to the new ministers, they thought they had now obtained an insight into the real cause of all the alarming movements of the French. Well might France think that demands so extravagant as these could only be obtained by force; and this would explain the seizure of the fortresses, and the advance of an army to Madrid. To men who had feared the whole evil which was intended, it was a relief to imagine that Buonaparte designed to take only the provinces beyond the Ebro, or perhaps only Navarre; propositions which would have roused the nation to arms, were yet so far short of the danger they apprehended, that they contemplated the required cessions with something like complacency, and flattered themselves, that by a constant friendship toward France, and the feeling which the marriage would produce between the two courts, the terms might possibly be mitigated; ... at all events, that by yielding for the present they should obtain the restitution of Barcelona and the other fortresses; and that what with the war which ere long must be renewed in the north, and the thousand chances to which the game of politics is subject, they should find opportunity when they had recovered strength, to throw off this temporary yoke.

?Arrival of General Savary at Madrid.?

Such were their dreams when General Savary was announced as envoy from the Emperor, and demanded audience in that capacity. Of course it was immediately granted. At this audience he professed that he was sent merely to compliment Ferdinand, and to know whether his sentiments with respect to France were conformable to those of the King his father; if it were so, the Emperor would forego all consideration of what had passed; would in no degree interfere with the interior concerns of the kingdom; and would immediately recognize him as King of Spain and of the Indies. To this the most satisfactory answer was given. It neither was, nor could have been the intention of the Prince’s party to offend France; the only hope which they had hitherto entertained of regenerating their government, had been by allying themselves with Buonaparte, and availing themselves of his power. One of the charges which were current against Godoy among the people, was that of a secret understanding with the English, and that he intended to deliver Ceuta into their hands, and fly with all his treasures under their protection. Nothing could be desired more flattering than the language of Savary during this audience; and he concluded it by asserting that the Emperor was already near Bayonne, and on his way to Madrid. No sooner, however, had this envoy left the audience-chamber, than he began, as if in his individual capacity, to execute the real object of his mission. It would be highly grateful and flattering to his Imperial Majesty, he said, if the King would meet him on the road: and he asserted repeatedly, and in the most positive terms, that his arrival might be expected every hour.

?Ferdinand persuaded to go and meet Buonaparte.?

The pressing instances of Savary upon this subject, while he repeatedly and positively asserted this falsehood, were accompanied with such intermixture of flattery and intimidating hints, as might best operate upon a man like Ferdinand placed in such circumstances. Murat failed not to enforce the same assurances, the same falsehoods, and the same menaces; and the ministers therefore determined upon consenting to what they dared not refuse. The immediate fear before their eyes was that Buonaparte might espouse the cause of the father against the son, in which case the least evils to be apprehended were the renovation of the Escurial-cause, the disheritance of the Prince, and for themselves that condign punishment which in that case they would not only suffer, but be thought to have deserved. They knew how vain it was to rely upon the popular favour, even if the people of Madrid had not been under the French bayonets; it was but for Buonaparte to prevent the Queen from taking part in public business, and to remove Godoy from the government. Charles was not personally disliked, and his restoration would then be hailed with as much apparent joy as had lately been manifested for his deposal.

?April 8.?

This resolution was made public by Ferdinand in the form of a communication to the president of the council. “He had received,” he said, “certain intelligence, that his faithful friend and mighty ally, the Emperor of the French and King of Italy, was already arrived at Bayonne, with the joyful and salutary purpose of passing through this kingdom, to the great satisfaction of himself (the King), and to the great profit and advantage of his beloved subjects. It was becoming the close friendship between the two crowns, and the great character of the Emperor, that he should go to meet him; thus giving the most sure and sincere proofs of his sentiments, in order to preserve and renew the good harmony, confidential friendship, and salutary alliance which so happily subsisted, and ought to subsist between them. His absence could last only a few days, during which he expected, from the love and fidelity of his dear subjects, who had hitherto conducted themselves in so praiseworthy a manner, that they would continue to remain tranquil; that the good harmony between them and the French troops would still be maintained; and that those troops should be punctually supplied with every thing necessary for their maintenance.” On the same day he appointed his uncle, the Infante Don Antonio, president of the high council of government, as well, it was said, on account of the ties of blood, as because of the distinguished qualities with which he was endowed, to transact all pressing and necessary business which might occur during his absence. In this decree he stated, that he should go to Burgos, evidently implying an intention at that time of not proceeding farther.

?Ferdinand sets out from Madrid.?

Deceived, or fain to act as if he were deceived himself, Ferdinand thought to deceive his father. He wrote to him, saying, that a good understanding subsisted between the Emperor and himself, as General Savary had testified; and for this reason he thought it fit that his father should give him a letter for the Emperor, to congratulate him on his arrival, and assure him that Ferdinand’s sentiments toward him were the same as his own. Charles, in reply, ordered the messenger to be told, that he was gone to bed, ... being determined not to write such a letter unless he were compelled to it, as he had been to the abdication. The son, without any such testimonials, began, on the morning of the 11th of April, his ill-omened journey. Savary, affecting the most assiduous attention, solicited the honour of accompanying him; ... he had just, he said, received information of the Emperor’s approach, and it was not possible that they should proceed farther than Burgos before they met him. They reached Burgos, and Buonaparte was not there, neither were there any tidings of his drawing near. Savary, who had followed the young King in a separate carriage, urged him to proceed to Vittoria. Ferdinand hesitated; but the same protestations and urgent entreaties on the part of the French envoy, and the same anxiety and secret fear which had induced him to come thus far, made him again consent; yet so reluctantly, that the Frenchman, on their arrival at Vittoria, thinking it would be useless to renew his solicitations, left him there, and continued his journey to Bayonne, there to arrange matters with his master for securing the prey, who was now already in the toils. At Vittoria, Ferdinand received intelligence that Buonaparte had reached Bourdeaux, and was on his way to Bayonne. In consequence of this advice, the Infante Don Carlos, who had been waiting at Tolosa, proceeded to the latter place, whither the Emperor had invited him: he reached that city some days before him; and when this modern CÆsar Borgia arrived there, he found one victim in his power. It is said that Don Carlos soon discovered the views of Buonaparte; and, having communicated his fears to one on whom he relied as a Spaniard, and a man of honour, drew up, with his advice, a letter to Ferdinand, beseeching him, as he valued the independence of his country and his personal safety, not to proceed to Bayonne; but this person was in the tyrant’s interest, and intercepted the messenger.

While Ferdinand, meantime, was chewing the cud of reflection at Vittoria, without those opiates of falsehood and flattery which Savary had continually administered, D. Mariano Luis de Urquijo waited upon him: one of the persons who had suffered under Godoy’s administration, and who had hitherto been regarded as one of the most enlightened Spaniards and truest friends of his country. The new King had annulled the proceedings against him, and he now came to offer his homage and his thanks, and his advice in this critical position of affairs. He told the King’s counsellors that Buonaparte certainly intended to extinguish the dynasty of the Spanish Bourbons; that the language of the Moniteur concerning the tumults at Aranjuez, the movement of his troops, the seizure of the fortresses, and the whole scheme of his policy, made this evident. Fearing and believing this, he asked them what they could propose to themselves from this journey? how they could suffer a king of Spain thus publicly to degrade himself by going towards a foreign state without any formal invitation, without any preparations, without any of the etiquette which ought in such cases to be observed, and without having been recognized as King, for the French studiously called him still Prince of Asturias? To these reasonable questions the poor perplexed ministers could only reply, that they should satisfy the ambition of the Emperor by some cessions of territory, and some commercial advantages. He made answer, that perhaps they might give him all Spain. The Duke del Infantado appeared to feel the force of Urquijo’s remonstrances, but asked if it were possible that a hero like Napoleon could disgrace himself by such an action as this apprehended treachery. Urquijo answered, that both in ancient history and in their own they might find that great men had never scrupled at committing great crimes for great purposes, and posterity nevertheless accounted them heroes. The Duke observed, that all Europe, even France itself, would be shocked at such an act; and that Spain, with the help of England, might prove a formidable enemy. To this Urquijo replied, that Europe was too much exhausted to engage in new wars; and that the separate interests and ambitious views of the different powers prevailed with each of them more than a sense of the necessity of making great sacrifices in order to destroy the system which France had adopted since her fatal revolution. Austria was at this time the only power capable of opposing Buonaparte, if Spain should rise against him; but if Russia and Germany and the rest of Europe were on the opposite side, Austria would be vanquished; the Spanish navy would be destroyed, and Spain would become nothing more than a theatre of war for the English against the French; in which, moreover, the English would never expose themselves unless they had something to gain, for England was not capable of making head against France in a continental war: the end would be the desolation of Spain and its conquest. As little reason was there to rely upon any disgust which might be felt in France at the injustice of its Emperor. In France there was no other public spirit but what received its impulse from the government. The French would be flattered if their Emperor placed a member of his family on the throne of Spain; they would perceive in such a change great political and commercial advantages to themselves; and the numerous classes who had a deep interest in the revolution, all who had taken part in it, all who had grown up in its principles, ... the men of letters, the Jews, and the protestants, would regard with satisfaction an event which, by completing the destruction of the house of Bourbon, gave them a farther security against the dreaded possibility of its restoration in France. What, then, he asked, was to be done? Nothing could be hoped from arming the nation; the internal state of Spain rendered it impossible to form a government capable of directing its force, and popular commotions must in their nature be of short duration: an attempt of this kind would produce ruinous consequences in the Americas, where the inhabitants would wish to throw off a heavy yoke, and where England would assist in just revenge for the imprudence with which Spain had promoted the insurrection in her colonies. He advised therefore, as the only means which offered any hope of extricating the new King from the danger which awaited him, that he should escape from the French, in whose hands he already was in fact a prisoner. This might be done at midnight, through the window of one of the adjoining houses; the Alcaide of the city would provide means for conducting him into Aragon. Meantime Urquijo offered to go to Bayonne as ambassador, and make the best terms he could with the Emperor: a business so ill begun, so ill directed, and in every way so inauspicious, could not end well; but it might be expected that when Napoleon saw the King had escaped the snare, and was in a situation where he could act for himself, he would find it prudent to change his plans.

These forcible representations were strengthened by D. Joseph Hervas, son of the Marquis de Almenara; he was the brother-in-law of General Duroc, and the intimate friend of Savary, with whom he had travelled from Paris. Through these connexions he had obtained, if not a certain knowledge of Buonaparte’s intentions, such strong reasons for suspecting them, as amounted to little less; and he communicated his fears to Ferdinand’s counsellors, and besought them, while it was yet possible, to save him from the snare. These warnings were in vain. But though Ferdinand’s counsellors could not be made to apprehend the real danger, that poor Prince felt his first apprehensions return upon him with additional force; disappointed of seeing Buonaparte, disappointed of hearing from him, he compared this mortifying neglect with the conduct of Murat and the ambassador, and as if to relieve his mind by complaining, wrote to the tyrant in ?April 14.? a tone which confessed how entirely he was at his mercy. Elevated to the throne, he said, by the free and spontaneous abdication of his august father, he could not see without real regret that the Grand Duke of Berg and the French ambassador had not thought proper to felicitate him as King of Spain, though the representatives of other courts with which he had neither such intimate nor such dear relations, had hastened so to do. Unable to attribute this to any thing but the want of positive orders from his Imperial Majesty, he now represented with all the sincerity of his heart, that from the first moment of his reign he had never ceased to give the Emperor the most marked and unequivocal proofs of attachment to his person; that his first order had been to send back to the army of Portugal the troops which had left it to approach Madrid; and his first care, notwithstanding the extreme penury of the finances, to supply the French troops, making room for them by withdrawing his own from the capital.... He spoke of the letters he had written, the protestations he had made, the deputations he had sent. “To this simple statement of facts,” said he, “your Majesty will permit me to add an expression of the lively regret I feel in seeing myself deprived of any letters from you, particularly after the frank and loyal answer which I gave to the demand that General Savary came to make of me at Madrid in your Majesty’s name. That general assured me that your Majesty only desired to know if my accession to the throne would make any change in our political relations. I answered by reiterating what I had already written, and willingly yielding to this general’s intreaties that I should come to meet your Majesty to accelerate the satisfaction of being personally acquainted with you, I have in consequence come to my town of Vittoria, without regarding the cares indispensable from a new reign, which required my residence in the centre of my states. I therefore urgently intreat your Majesty to put an end to the painful situation to which I am reduced by your silence, and to relieve by a favourable answer the disquietude which too long an uncertainty may occasion in my faithful subjects.”

From this time Ferdinand had no longer to complain of Buonaparte’s silence: an answer was brought to Vittoria by Savary. It began by acknowledging the receipt of that letter which the Prince had written respecting the projected marriage before the affair of the Escurial, and the receipt of which Buonaparte had formerly denied. “Your Highness,” said he, (for the title of King was carefully withheld,) “will permit me, under the present circumstances, to address you with frankness and sincerity. I expected that, on my arrival at Madrid, I should have persuaded my illustrious friend to make some necessary reforms in his dominions, which would give considerable satisfaction to the public feeling. The removal of the Prince of the Peace appeared to me indispensable to his happiness and the interests of his people. I have frequently expressed my wishes that he should be removed; and, if I did not persevere in the application, it was on account of my friendship for King Charles, and a wish, if possible, not to see the weakness of his attachments. O wretchedness of human nature! imbecility and error! such is our lot. The events of the North retarded my journey, and the occurrences at Aranjuez supervened. I do not constitute myself judge of those events: but it is very dangerous for Kings to accustom their subjects to shed blood, and to take the administration of justice into their own hands. I pray God that your Highness may not one day find it so. It would not be conformable to the interests of Spain to proceed severely against a Prince who is united to one of the Royal Family, and has so long governed the kingdom. He has no longer any friends; as little will your Royal Highness find any, should you cease to be fortunate.... The people eagerly avenge themselves for the homage which they pay us.” This was the language of one who felt that he held his power by no other tenure than that of force, and reconciled himself to that tenure by a base philosophy, ... thinking ill of human nature because he could not think well of himself. What followed was more remarkable. “How,” said he, “could the Prince of the Peace be brought to trial without implicating the King and Queen in the process of exciting seditious passions, the result of which might be fatal to your crown? Your Royal Highness has no other right to it than what you derive from your mother. If the cause injures her honour, you destroy your own claims. Do not give ear to weak and perfidious counsels. You have no right to try the Prince; his crimes, if any are imputed to him, merge in the prerogative of the crown. He may be banished from Spain, and I may offer him an asylum in France.”

With respect to the abdication, Buonaparte said, that, as that event had taken place when his armies were in Spain, it might appear in the eyes of Europe and of posterity as if he had sent them for the purpose of expelling a friend and ally from his throne. As a neighbouring sovereign, it became him, therefore, to inform himself of all the circumstances before he acknowledged the abdication. He added, “I declare to your Royal Highness, to the Spaniards, and to the whole world, that, if the abdication of King Charles be voluntary, and has not been forced upon him by the insurrection and tumults at Aranjuez, I have no difficulty in acknowledging your Royal Highness as King of Spain. I am therefore anxious to have some conversation with you on this subject. The circumspection which I have observed on this point ought to convince you of the support you will find in me, were it ever to happen that factions of any kind should disturb you on your throne. When King Charles informed me of the affair of the Escurial, it gave me the greatest pain, and I flatter myself that I contributed to its happy termination. Your Royal Highness is not altogether free from blame: of this the letter which you wrote to me, and which I have always wished to forget, is a sufficient proof. When you are King, you will know how sacred are the rights of the throne. Every application of an hereditary prince to a foreign sovereign is criminal.” The proposed marriage, Buonaparte said, accorded, in his opinion, with the interests of his people; and he regarded it as a circumstance which would unite him by new ties to a house whose conduct he had had every reason to praise since he ascended the throne.

A threat was then held out.... “Your Highness ought to dread the consequences of popular commotions. It is possible that assassinations may be committed upon some stragglers of my army, but they would only lead to the ruin of Spain. I have learnt, with regret, that certain letters of the Captain-General of Catalonia have been circulated at Madrid, and that they have had the effect of exciting some irritation.” After this menace, Buonaparte assured the young King that he had laid open the inmost sentiments of his heart, and that, under all circumstances, he should conduct himself towards him in the same manner as he had done towards the King his father; and he concluded with this hypocritical form, ... “My Cousin, I pray God to take you into his high and holy keeping.”

This letter might well have alarmed Ferdinand and his counsellors; but there came at the same time letters from the persons who had been sent forward to Bayonne, urging him to show no distrust of Buonaparte, but to hasten forward and meet him, as the sure and only means of averting the fatal effects of his displeasure, and securing his friendship. They had now indeed advanced too far to recede; and their thoughts were rather exercised in seeking to justify to themselves the imprudence which they had already committed, than in devising how to remedy it. They persuaded themselves that Buonaparte was not ambitious of adding territory to the French empire; that his conduct, even toward hostile powers, was marked by generosity and moderation; and that his leading maxims of policy were, not wholly to despoil his enemies, but to aggrandize and reward his allies at their expense, and with what he took from them to form states more or less considerable for his relations, whose interest it would be to observe his system and support his empire. The instances of Holland and Naples might indeed seem not very well to agree with this view of his conduct; but it was obvious, they said, that while Holland remained under a republican form it would unavoidably connive with England, and the Dutch themselves were desirous of the change; and with regard to Naples, Napoleon could not possibly act otherwise than he had done, after the conduct of that court. Such was the miserable reasoning with which Ferdinand’s advisers flattered themselves at the time, ?Escoiquiz. Idea Sencilla, c. 3.? and which they have since offered to the world as their justification; instead of fairly confessing, that in consequence of the events at Aranjuez they had placed themselves in a situation in which there was no alternative for men of their pitch of mind but to surrender at discretion to Buonaparte.

All of them were not thus deluded. Cevallos would fain have gone no farther; and the people of Vittoria, more quick-sighted than their Prince, besought him not to proceed. On the other hand, General Savary assured him with the most vehement protestations, as Murat had done before, that the Emperor did not wish to dismember Spain of a single village; and he offered to pledge his life, that within a few minutes after his arrival at Bayonne he would be recognized as King of Spain and the Indies. The Emperor, to preserve his own consistency, would begin by giving him the title of Highness; but he would presently give him that of Majesty; in three days every thing would be settled, and he might return to Spain. General Savary, if these persuasions had proved ineffectual, was prepared to use other methods not less congenial to his own character and his master’s; for not only were there troops in the neighbourhood of Vittoria surrounding this ill-fated Prince, to intercept his retreat, if he should attempt it; but soldiers were ready that night to have seized him, and a French aide-de-camp was in the apartment waiting for the determination. ?Escoiquiz, 41.? Confused and terrified as Ferdinand was, and feeling himself in the power of the French, the only ease he could find was by endeavouring implicitly to believe their protestations of friendship. ?Apr. 19.? Accordingly the next morning he renewed his journey, though the people, finding their cries and entreaties were of no avail, even cut the traces of his coach, and led away his mules.

He proceeded, and crossed the stream which divides the two kingdoms. Scarcely had he set foot on the French territory, before he remarked, that no one came to receive him; a neglect more striking, as he had travelled so far to meet the Emperor. At St. Jean de Luz, however, the mayor made his appearance, attended by the municipality. Too humble to be informed of Buonaparte’s designs, and probably too honest to suspect them, he came to the carriage and addressed Ferdinand, expressing, in the most lively manner, the joy he felt at having the honour of being the first person to receive a sovereign, the friend and ally of France. Shortly afterwards he was met by the grandees, who had been sent to compliment the Emperor: their account was sufficiently discouraging; but he was now near Bayonne, and it was too late to turn back. The Prince of Neufchatel (Berthier) and Duroc, the marshal of the palace, came out to meet him, and conduct him to the place which had been appointed for his residence, ... a place so little suitable to such a guest, that he could not for a moment conceal from himself, that it marked an intentional disrespect. Before he had recovered from the ominous feeling which such a reception occasioned, Buonaparte, accompanied by some of his generals, paid him a visit. Ferdinand went down to the street door to receive him; and they embraced with every appearance of friendship. ?Buonaparte receives him with an embrace.? The interview was short, and merely complimentary; Buonaparte again embraced him at parting. The kiss of Judas Iscariot was not more treacherous than this imperial embrace.

Ferdinand was not long suffered to remain uncertain of his fate. Buonaparte, as if to prove to the world the absolute callousness of his heart, ... as if he derived an unnatural pleasure in acting the part of the deceiver, ... invited him to dinner, ... sent his carriage for him, ... came to the coach steps to receive him, ... again embraced him, and led him in by the hand. Ferdinand sate at the same table with him as a friend, a guest, and an ally; and no sooner had he returned to his own residence, than General Savary, the same man who, by persuasions and solemn protestations, had lured him on from Madrid, came to inform him of the Emperor’s irrevocable determination, that the Bourbon dynasty should no longer reign in Spain; that it was to be succeeded by the Buonapartes; and therefore, Ferdinand was required, in his own name, and that of all his family, to renounce the crown of Spain and of the Indies in their favour.

On the following evening Escoiquiz was summoned to Buonaparte’s cabinet in the Palace of Marrac, which had been built as a residence for the Queen-dowager, Mariana of Neuburg, widow of that poor prince Charles II. A curious conversation ensued. The Corsican began by saying, that from the character which he had heard of this canon, he had long wished to talk with him respecting Ferdinand. “All Europe,” said he, “has its eyes upon us. My armies being at this time in Spain, it will be believed that the violent proceedings at Aranjuez, which have given to all courts the evil example of a son conspiring against his father and dethroning him, were my work. I must avoid this imputation, and make the world see that I am not capable of supporting an attempt equally unjust and scandalous. Consequently I could never consent to acknowledge Prince Ferdinand as King of Spain, unless his father, who has sent in a formal protest against the pretended abdication, should in full liberty renew that abdication in his favour. But on the other hand, the interests of my empire require that the house of Bourbon, which I must ever regard as the implacable enemy of mine, should no longer reign in Spain. This is your interest also; rid of a dynasty whose latter kings have caused all those evils by which the nation is so exasperated, it will enjoy a better constitution under a new race; and being by these means intimately connected with France, it will be always secure of the friendship of the only power whose enmity could endanger it. Charles himself, knowing the inability of his sons to hold the reins of government in times so difficult, is ready to cede to me his own rights and those of his family. I will therefore no longer suffer the Bourbon family to reign; but for the esteem which I bear toward Ferdinand, who with so much confidence has come to visit me, I will recompense him and his brothers as far as possible for what my political interests require that they should lose in their own country. Let him cede all his claims to the crown of Spain, and I will give him that of Etruria, in full sovereignty for himself and his heirs male in perpetuity, and advance him as a donation a year’s revenue of that state, to establish himself in it. I will give him also my niece in marriage. If this proposition be accepted, the treaty shall immediately be made with all solemnities; but if not, I will then treat with the father, and neither the Prince nor his brothers shall be admitted as parties, nor can they expect the slightest compensation. To the Spanish nation I shall secure their independence and total integrity under the new dynasty, with the preservation of their religion, laws, and customs; for I want nothing for myself from Spain, not even a village. If your Prince does not like this proposal, and chooses to return to Spain, he is free! he may go when he pleases! but he and I must fix a time for his journey, after which hostilities shall commence between us.”

Escoiquiz replied to this extraordinary speech by entering into an elaborate apology for the transactions at Aranjuez, to which Buonaparte listened with great patience, observing only from time to time, that however these arguments might appear to those persons who were intimately acquainted with the character of Charles and his Queen, it must ever be impossible to make the rest of the world believe that an abdication made under such circumstances of public and notorious force, was in any thing different from a deposal. But be that as it might, the interests of his house and of his empire required that the Bourbons should no longer reign in Spain; and then, Escoiquiz says, taking him by the ear, and pulling it with the best humour in the world, he added, “If all which you say were true, canon, I should still repeat ... bad policy. Exposed as I am every moment to a renewal of the war in the north, I should never have my back secure while the Bourbons occupied that throne; and Spain, with a man of talent at its head, could give me the greatest annoyance.” The canon again entered into a long reply, showing how completely the court of Spain had abandoned the Bourbons of France and of Naples, imputing the wish to join with Prussia wholly to Godoy, and observing that a marriage into the august imperial family would secure the attachment of Ferdinand. All Europe, he said, had fixed their eyes upon Bayonne; the Spaniards were looking with inconceivable impatience for the return of their young and beloved monarch, flattering themselves that Buonaparte would be to him both as father and mother, ... for it had been Ferdinand’s fate only to know his parents by the unnatural hatred which they had borne towards him. There would be no bounds to their gratitude, if, according to his imperial promise, he should honour the capital with his presence, bringing back with him the young King. The whole nation would receive him on their knees, would bless him, and would never forget his goodness; and Spain, thus restored to strength, would become a more efficient ally to France than she had ever yet been, and afford her the only means for reducing England to reason. But if the Emperor persisted in his present intentions the Spaniards would vow an inextinguishable hatred against him. Experience might show how deeply such feelings took root in the Spanish heart. An age had now elapsed since the war of the succession, and yet the rancour which had then been felt in Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia, against the Bourbon family, against France, and even against the Castilians, had never been wholly allayed till the recent accession of Ferdinand. But if this feeling had arisen in a question merely of doubtful right, what would it be if the people saw themselves deprived of a King whom they adored, to have a stranger set over them in his place? The Spaniards must be exterminated before such a King could be established upon his throne.

To this Buonaparte replied, that he was assured of the only power which could give him any uneasiness; the Emperor of Russia, to whom he had imparted his plans at Tilsit, having approved of, and given his word not to oppose them. As for the Spaniards themselves, they would make little or no opposition. The nobles and the rich would certainly remain quiet for fear of losing their property, and would exert all their influence to quiet the people. The clergy and the friars, whom he would make responsible for any disorder, would for their own sake, and for the like motives, do the same. The populace might excite tumults here and there, but a few severe chastisements would make them return to their duty. Countries in which there were many friars were easily subdued; ... he had had experience of this: and if the opposition were general, the result must be the same, even if it should be necessary to sacrifice 200,000 men. Escoiquiz made answer, that in that case the new dynasty would be placed upon a volcano; ... 200,000 or 300,000 men would be required to keep the provinces down, and the Monarch would reign in the midst of carcasses and ruins, over a race of indignant slaves, ready upon the slightest occasion to break their chains. And of what utility would such an alliance prove? Spain, ruined, deserted, and deprived of her colonies, would become a burden to France. Buonaparte upon this observed, that the canon was proceeding too fast in taking it for granted that Spain would lose her colonies: he on his part had well-founded hopes of preserving them. “Do not suppose,” said he, “that I have been sleeping. I have communications with Spanish America, and have sent frigates to those coasts to maintain them.” Escoiquiz replied, that America even now was held by no other bond than the slight thread of habit; the least disgust, even under Ferdinand himself, would break the connexion, and beyond all doubt the whole of the colonies would separate themselves from the mother country rather than acknowledge the new dynasty. What too would be the effect of such a measure upon the European powers, and how might England be expected to act? Would not England regard it as the most favourable of all events? would it not at once open the whole commerce of America to her, and with the treasure from thence derived, enable her to purchase all the people of Europe, and arm them against France: and even to stir up domestic movements against the Emperor, which would be yet more perilous, for money was the most powerful of engines? Buonaparte then put an end to the conference by observing that they did not agree in the principles upon which they reasoned; that he would think again upon the matter, and on the morrow communicate his irrevocable determination.

On the morrow accordingly Escoiquiz was again summoned, and the irrevocable determination was announced that the Bourbon dynasty must cease to reign upon the Spanish throne: that if Ferdinand would accede to the proposed exchange, Etruria should be given him; but that if he refused, the King his father would make the cession, Etruria would remain annexed to France, and he would lose all compensation. Escoiquiz, after touching again upon his yesterday’s argument, began to lament the disgrace which would fall upon the advisers of Ferdinand, and especially upon himself as being supposed to have most influence with him. For even, he said, if it should be known that the Prince, before he consulted them, had determined upon this journey, and yielding to the solicitations of the embassador had given his word to set out, the nation would always accuse them for not having dissuaded him from it. Buonaparte seems in these conferences to have considered Escoiquiz not as a statesman, but as a good easy man of letters, whom a little flattery would win to his wishes. He argued with him, therefore, in the same temper as on the preceding day; and giving him another pull by the ear, said to him at last with a smile, “So, then, canon, you will not enter into my ideas.” The canon replied, “On the contrary, I wish with all my heart that your Majesty would enter into mine, ... though it should be at the cost of my ears,”—for the Emperor was pulling there somewhat too forcibly.

But Buonaparte, when he found that Ferdinand was not to be cajoled into the cession, laid by the semblance of these gracious manners, and proceeded in the temper of a tyrant to effect the usurpation which he had begun. Cevallos was now summoned to the palace, to discuss the terms of the renunciation with the French minister for foreign affairs, M. Champagny. The Spaniard assumed a firm and manly tone; he complained of the perfidy which had been practised, protested in Ferdinand’s name against the violence done to his person, in not permitting him to return to Spain; and, as a final answer to the Emperor’s demand, declared that the King neither could nor would renounce his crown; he could not prejudice the individuals of his own family, who were called to the succession by the fundamental laws of the kingdom: still less could he consent to the establishment of another dynasty, it being the right of the Spanish nation to elect another family whenever the present should become extinct.

M. Champagny replied, by insisting on the necessity of the renunciation, and contending that the abdication of the father-king had not been voluntary. Of this assertion, which was as ill-timed as it was irrelevant, Cevallos readily availed himself, expressing his surprise that, while they condemned the abdication of Charles as not having been his own free act, they, at the same time, were endeavouring to extort a renunciation from Ferdinand. He then entered into details designed to prove that no violence had been done to the father-king, either by the people, the prince, or any other person, and that he had retired from government by his own unbiassed will. But Cevallos protested against acknowledging the smallest authority in the Emperor to intermeddle with matters which exclusively belonged to the Spanish government; following, he said, in this respect, the example of the cabinet of Paris, which rejected, as inadmissible, the applications of the King of Spain in behalf of his ally and kinsman Louis XVI. It was of little consequence that Ferdinand’s minister triumphed in argument. M. Champagny abruptly turned the subject, by saying that the Emperor never could be sure of Spain while it was governed by the Bourbon dynasty; for that family must necessarily regret to see its elder branch expelled from France. Cevallos answered, that, in a regular system of things, family prepossessions never prevailed over political interests, of which the whole conduct of Charles IV. since the treaty of Basle was a proof. Every reason of policy induced Spain to maintain a perpetual peace with France, and there were reasons why the continuance of that system was not of less importance to the Emperor. The generosity and loyalty of the Spaniards were proverbial; from that loyalty they had submitted to the caprices of despotism; and the same principle, if they saw their independence and the security of their sovereign violated, would call forth their well-known valour. If so atrocious an insult were committed, France would lose the most faithful and useful of her allies; and the Emperor, by the artifices with which he entrapped the King to Bayonne, in order there to despoil him of his crown, would have so effectually stained his own character, that no confidence hereafter could be placed in treaties with him; and war with him could be concluded by no other means than that of total destruction and extermination.

Buonaparte was listening to this conference. He lost patience now, and ordering Cevallos into his own cabinet, the violence of his temper broke out. He called that minister traitor, for continuing to serve the son in the same situation which he had held under the father; he accused him of having maintained, in an official interview with General Moutheon, that Ferdinand’s right to the crown stood in no need of his recognition, though it might be necessary to the continuance of his relations with France: and he reproached him still more angrily for having said to a foreign minister at Madrid, that, if the French army offered any violation to the integrity and independence of the Spanish sovereignty, 300,000 men would convince them that a brave and generous nation was not to be insulted with impunity. The tyrant then entered upon the business of the renunciation, which he was determined should be made; and finding that Cevallos still insisted upon the rights of his master, the reigning dynasty, and the people of Spain, he concluded the conversation by these remarkable and characteristic words: “I have a system of policy of my own. You ought to adopt more liberal ideas; to be less susceptible on the point of honour; and not sacrifice the prosperity of Spain to the interest of the Bourbon family.”

Having found Cevallos so little inclined to yield, Ferdinand was informed that he must appoint another person to carry on the negotiation. While he was deliberating whom to choose, one of the French agents insinuated himself into the confidence of Escoiquiz, and persuaded him to pay a visit to Champagny, from whom he received the propositions of Buonaparte in writing. These, which were to be considered as the tyrant’s definitive demands, from which he would not recede, and which were the most favourable he would grant, declared his irrevocable determination that the Bourbon dynasty should no longer reign in Spain, and that one of his brothers should possess the throne. The complete integrity of that kingdom and all its colonies was to be guaranteed, together with the preservation of religion and property. If Ferdinand agreed to renounce his rights in his own name, and that of his family, the crown of Etruria should be conferred upon him according to the Salic law; and the Emperor’s niece be given him in marriage immediately, if he chose to demand her, upon the execution of the treaty. If he refused, he should remain without compensation, and the Emperor would carry his purposes into effect by force.

Escoiquiz was of opinion that Ferdinand would do well to yield to a force which he could not resist, and save what he could from the wreck. He argued that it was their business to mitigate the evil as far as possible, saving always the honour of the King and the interests of Spain; and that as Ferdinand was yet but a youth, he might hope, in some of those changes which are incident to human affairs, to regain what he now lost. The cession which was demanded would be palpably invalid, and would not prevent the Spanish nation from making any exertions which their loyalty and spirit might prompt. By accepting Etruria he would secure to himself the kingly title and kingly treatment from Buonaparte; for though he would certainly be detained in France as long as Spain resisted, still it would be with all outward marks of honour; he would be kept like a slave in fetters of gold, not imprisoned in some castle where misery and ill-treatment would put an end to him and his brothers. If Spain should make a successful stand, by the help of England, which might be expected, and perhaps that of other powers also, Etruria would be always something in possession, the exchange of which would facilitate his return to his lawful throne: but if unhappily, after all efforts, Spain should succumb in the strife, her disherited princes would still remain with an honourable and princely asylum. It was moreover especially to be considered, that if Ferdinand refused to treat with the Emperor Napoleon, and cede his rights as King of Spain, the cession would beyond all doubt be made by his father, and Ferdinand would then be dealt with in the character of an undutiful and rebellious son. These arguments did not prevail; the majority of Ferdinand’s advisers, notwithstanding all that had passed, could not be persuaded that Buonaparte meant seriously to depose him; they continued to believe that all these measures were only designed to extort a cession of territory, and that if Ferdinand continued firm in his refusal, he need not sacrifice the provinces on the left of the Ebro, nor even Navarre, but that some of the colonies would suffice. They urged this persuasion so strongly, that Escoiquiz, without altering his own opinion, assented to theirs. But all these discussions were made known to Buonaparte by one of their own number, who was sold to the tyrant.

Ferdinand therefore now invested Don Pedro de Labrador, honorary counsellor of state, in whose talents he had great reliance, with full powers, instructing him to present them to the French minister for foreign affairs, and to demand his full powers in return, that the proposals of Buonaparte might be communicated in an authentic manner. ?April 27.? The instructions given him, which were drawn up by Cevallos, were to ask M. Champagny if King Ferdinand were at full liberty? for if he was, he would return to his dominions, and there give audience to the plenipotentiary whom the Emperor might depute; if he were not, all acts at Bayonne were nugatory, and could have no other effect than to stain the reputation of Buonaparte before the whole world. Ferdinand, he was charged to say, was resolved not to yield to the Emperor’s demands: neither his own honour, nor his duty to his subjects, permitting him. He could not compel them to accept of the Buonaparte dynasty, much less could he deprive them of their right to elect another family to the throne, when the reigning one should be extinct. It was not less repugnant to his feelings to accept of the throne of Etruria as a compensation; that country belonged to its lawful sovereign, whom he would not wrong, and he was contented with the kingdom which providence had given him.

When Labrador presented his powers, and required the usual return, M. Champagny replied, these things were mere matters of form, and wholly unconnected with the essential object of which they were to treat. Buonaparte, indeed, had determined to force from Ferdinand the form of a voluntary renunciation, but he and his ministers considered all other forms as useless. The Frenchman proceeded to talk of the propositions: Labrador declared he could discuss no subject till the previous formalities had been observed; and asked if the King were at liberty? M. Champagny made answer, undoubtedly he was. Then, said the Spaniard, he ought to be restored to his kingdom. But M. Champagny replied, that, with respect to his return, it was necessary he should come to a right understanding with the Emperor, either personally or by letter. Already, Ferdinand had had sufficient reason to feel himself a prisoner; this language was such as could leave no doubt. But that the violence might be apparent and notorious, Cevallos ?April 28.? addressed a note to the French minister of state, saying, that the King had left Madrid with the intention of meeting the Emperor at Burgos, on the assurances which the Grand Duke of Berg, the ambassador Beauharnois, and General Savary, had given of his approach; and that, in consequence of the agitation of the public mind in Spain, it was impossible to answer longer for the tranquillity of the people, especially as they were apprized that their King had now been six days at Bayonne. He had, in the most solemn manner, promised them on his departure that he would speedily return. This, therefore, he was about to do; he now made known his intentions, that they might be communicated to the Emperor, whose approbation they would doubtless meet; and he should be ready to treat, in his dominions, on all convenient subjects, with any person whom it might please his Imperial Majesty to authorize. No answer was returned to this dispatch; but the spies within the palace and the guards without were doubled. A guard at the door even ordered the King and his brother one night to retire to their apartments. Ferdinand’s mind was not yet so subdued to his fortunes as to brook this insult. He complained bitterly of it; and the Governor in consequence soothed him with courteous language, and expressed his disapprobation of such conduct. The act, however, was repeated; and, not choosing to expose himself a third time to insults, which he had no means of resenting, he abstained from going out.

Buonaparte had expected that Ferdinand would more easily be intimidated into compliance; in that case he would have recognized the validity of the father’s abdication; which, in fact, he did virtually acknowledge, while treating with the son for his renunciation. He now found it necessary to alter his plan of proceedings, and ordered Murat to send off Charles and the Queen as expeditiously as possible to Bayonne. There was no danger of exciting any popular commotion by removing them; but the deliverance of Godoy was also to be effected; and artifice must be employed for this, unless he resorted immediately to force, which it was his purpose to avoid till the whole of the royal family were in his hands. The release of the fallen favourite had been requested of Ferdinand during his stay at Vittoria. He replied, that he had promised his people to publish the result of a process, on which the honour of many of his subjects, and the preservation of the rights of the crown, depended. Throughout the whole extent of Spain, he said, there was not a single district, however small, which had not addressed complaints to the throne against that prisoner: the joy at his arrest had been general, and all eyes were fixed upon the proceedings. Nevertheless, he gave his royal word, that, if, after a full examination of the case, Godoy should be condemned to death, he would remit that punishment in consequence of the Emperor’s interposition. At the time when Ferdinand returned this answer to Buonaparte, he received advices from the Junta of government that Murat had required them to release Godoy; threatening, if they refused, to deliver him by force, and put his guards to the sword if they offered the slightest resistance. They were informed, in reply, of the answer which had been sent to Bayonne, and were instructed to tell the Grand Duke, if he renewed his applications, that the business was in treaty between the two sovereigns, and that the result depended exclusively on the decision of the King.

The French have at all times had less public faith than any other nation in Europe; but whether under their old monarchy, their democracy, or the absolute tyranny in which that democracy had its natural end, they have effectually protected their agents and partizans in other countries. Godoy had been the creature of France, and Buonaparte was resolved to save him: he treated, therefore, the letter of Ferdinand with contempt; and, having recourse to direct falsehood, sent information to Murat, that the Prince of Asturias had put the prisoner entirely at his disposal, and ordered him to demand and obtain the surrender of his person. ?Apr. 20.? A note was accordingly delivered to the Junta, in Murat’s name, by General Belliard, demanding the prisoner. This, he said, was only a new proof of the interest which the Emperor took in the welfare of Spain; for his Imperial Majesty could not recognize as King any other than Charles IV.; and, by removing the Prince of the Peace, he wished to deprive malevolence itself of the possible belief, that that monarch would ever restore him to confidence and power. One member of the government, Don Francisco Gil, protested against yielding to the demand, because it was not authorized by Ferdinand their King: the others deemed it wiser to submit, and the Infante D. Antonio declared, that it depended upon their compliance in this point whether his nephew should be King of Spain. ?Memoria de Azanza y O’Farrel, p. 25.? The Marquis de Castellar, therefore, to whose custody Godoy had been committed, was instructed to deliver him up, and he was removed by night. Had the people been aware that this minister was thus to be conveyed away from their vengeance, that indignation which soon afterwards burst out would probably have manifested itself now, and Godoy would have perished by their hands. He was immediately sent under a strong escort to Bayonne.

In obtaining the release of this wretch, Buonaparte had probably no other view at the time, than of preserving that uniform system of protection towards his agents, which pride as well as policy dictated. But when he found his designs unexpectedly impeded by the firmness which Ferdinand and his counsellors then displayed, he perceived that Godoy might yet be useful; and when Charles arrived at Bayonne, the favourite was restored to him, and reinstated as minister, that he might, by a last act of office, consummate his own infamy, and complete the destruction of the dynasty which had raised him, and the country which had given him birth. Willing to be revenged on Ferdinand, and now also hating Spain, Godoy, who had hitherto seconded the projects of Buonaparte, because he was duped by the hopes of aggrandizement, now forwarded them with equal eagerness for the sake of vengeance. It was necessary that Charles should be induced to treat his son as an enemy, a rebel, and a traitor; and that, while he punished him as such for having accepted his abdication, he should be made to resume the crown, solely for the purpose of transferring it to a stranger; and that stranger one from whose treacherous and unprovoked aggressions he himself but a few weeks before had attempted to fly to America, abandoning his kingdom. To this resolution, monstrous as it was, the unhappy King was brought; nor was compulsion needful; the ascendancy of the favourite was sufficient to make him fancy it his own act and deed. Fear might have extorted the renunciation; but the manner in which he personally treated his son sprung evidently from his own feelings, thus exasperated.

Ferdinand had now only to choose between degradation and destruction. He made, however, one effort in behalf of himself and of Spain, and addressed his father in a letter not less dignified than respectful, in which he at the same time asserted his right to the crown, and his readiness to restore it. ?May 1.? The King, he said, had admitted that the proceedings at Aranjuez were in no degree occasioned or influenced by him; and had told him, that the abdication had been voluntary, and that it was the happiest act of his life. He still declared, that it was an act of his own free-will; but professed that it had been made with the mental reservation of a right to resume the crown whenever he thought proper; and now he reclaimed it, avowing at the same time, that he would neither return to the throne nor to Spain. The fundamental laws of the kingdom conferred the crown upon himself, he said, upon his father’s free resignation of it. His father had freely resigned; and yet now reclaimed his power, without any intention of retaining it. Here, then, he required an act of duty which the son could not perform, without violating the duty which he owed to his subjects. But both might be reconciled; and Ferdinand would willingly restore the crown to his father, on condition, 1. That they both returned to Madrid; 2. That a Cortes should be assembled there; or, if Charles objected to so numerous a body, that all the tribunals and deputies of the kingdom should be convoked; 3. That the renunciation should be executed in due form, in the presence of the council, and the motives stated which induced him to make it: these, Ferdinand said, were the love which he bore to his subjects, and his anxiety to secure their tranquillity, and save them from the horrors of a civil war; 4. That the King should not be accompanied by individuals who had justly excited the hatred of the whole nation; and, 5. That, if the King persisted in his present intention, neither to reign in person nor to return to Spain, Ferdinand should govern in his name: “there is no one,” said he, “who can have a claim to be preferred before me. I am summoned thereto by the laws, the wishes, and the love of my people, and no one can take more zealous and bounden interest in their welfare.”

In the answer to this letter, the dictation, as well as the purposes of Buonaparte, is apparent. Charles began, by declaring, that Spain could be saved by the Emperor alone. Since the peace of Basle, he had seen that the essential interests of his people were inseparably connected with the preservation of a good understanding with France; and he had spared no sacrifices to preserve it. Spain had been forced by the aggression of England into the war, and having suffered more by it than any other state, the consequent calamities had been unjustly attributed to his ministers; nevertheless he had the happiness of seeing the kingdom tranquil within, and was the only one among the Kings of Europe, who sustained himself amid the storms of these latter times. That tranquillity Ferdinand had disturbed: misled by the aversion of his first wife towards France, he thoughtlessly participated in the prejudices which prevailed against the minister and his parents. “It became necessary for me,” said Charles, “to recollect my own rights, as a father and a King. I caused you to be arrested; ... I found among your papers the proof of your crime. But I melted at seeing my son on the scaffold of destruction. I forgave you; and, from that moment, was compelled to add to the distresses which I felt for the calamities of my subjects, the afflictions occasioned by dissensions in my own family.”

The part which followed must have been designed by Buonaparte to conceal the manifest proofs of his own hand, which appear in the rest of the letter. The Emperor of France, it was here said, believing that the Spaniards were disposed to renounce his alliance, and seeing the discord that prevailed in the royal family, inundated the Spanish provinces with his troops, under various pretences. While they occupied the right bank of the Ebro, and appeared to aim only at maintaining the communication with Portugal, the King was not alarmed; but when they advanced towards the capital, then he felt it necessary to collect his army round his person, that he might present himself, in a manner becoming his rank, before his august ally ... all whose doubts he should have removed. For this purpose, his troops were ordered to leave Portugal and Madrid, not that he might abandon his subjects, but that he might support with honour the glory of the throne. Sufficient experience had also convinced him, that the Emperor of the French might entertain wishes comformable to his particular interest, and to the policy of the vast system of the continent, which might be inconsistent with the interests of the Spanish Bourbons. Ferdinand availed himself of these circumstances, to accomplish the conspiracy of the Escurial. Old, and oppressed by infirmity, his father was not able to withstand this new calamity; ... he repaired, therefore, to Buonaparte, not as a King, not at the head of his troops, not with the pomp of royalty, but as an unhappy and abandoned prince, who sought refuge and protection in his camp. To that Emperor he was indebted for his own life, and for the lives of the Queen, and of the minister whom he had appointed and adopted into his family. Every thing now depended upon that great monarch. “My heart,” said Charles, “has been fully unfolded to him. He knows the injuries I have received, and the violence which has been done me; ... he has declared that you shall never be acknowledged as King; and that the enemy of his father can never acquire the confidence of foreign states. He has, in addition to this, shown me letters written with your own hand, which clearly prove your hatred of France.

“Things being thus situated,” he continued, “my rights are clear, and my duties are much more so. It is incumbent upon me to prevent the shedding the blood of my subjects; to do nothing at the conclusion of my career, which should carry fire and sword into every part of Spain, and reduce it to the most horrible misery. If, faithful to your primary obligations, and to the feelings of nature, you had rejected perfidious counsels, and placed yourself constantly at my side, for the defence of your father; if you had waited the regular course of nature, which would have elevated you in a few years to the rank of royalty, I should have been able to conciliate the policy and interests of Spain, with those of all. For six months, no doubt, matters have been in a critical situation; but notwithstanding such difficulties, I should have obtained the support of my subjects. I should have availed myself of the weak means which yet remained to me, of the moral aid which I should have acquired, meeting always my ally with suitable dignity, to whom I never gave cause of complaint; and an arrangement would have been made which would have accommodated the interests of my subjects with those of my family. But in tearing from my head the crown, you have not preserved it for yourself; you have taken from it all that is august and sacred in the eyes of mankind. Your behaviour with respect to me ... your intercepted letters, have put a brazen barrier between yourself and the throne of Spain; and it is neither your own interest, nor that of the country, that you should reign in it. Take heed how you kindle a fire which will unavoidably cause your complete ruin, and the degradation of Spain! I am King by the right derived from my forefathers; my abdication was the result of force; I have nothing to receive from you; nor can I consent to the convocation of the Cortes ... an additional absurdity, suggested by the inexperienced persons who attend you. I have reigned for the happiness of my subjects, and I do not wish to bequeath them civil war, mutiny, popular Juntas, and revolution. Every thing ought to be done for the people, and nothing by the people: to forget this maxim, were to become an accomplice in all the crimes that must follow its neglect. I have sacrificed the whole of my life to my people; and in the advanced age to which I have arrived, I shall do nothing in opposition to their religion, their tranquillity, and their happiness. I have reigned for them; I will constantly occupy myself for their sakes; I will forget all my sacrifices; and when at last I shall be convinced that the religion of Spain, the integrity of her provinces, her independence, and her privileges are preserved, I shall descend to the tomb, forgiving those who have embittered the last years of my life.”

However suspicious were the circumstances under which the decree of abdication appeared, the probabilities that that decree was obtained by compulsion were not in the slightest degree strengthened by the testimony of Charles at Bayonne, where he was in far stricter duresse, and far greater danger, than at Aranjuez. But, in every line of this letter, the language of Buonaparte may be recognized: his dread and hatred of popular assemblies ... the tone and manner of his philosophy ... his perpetual reference to force, as that to which all things must bow; and there is one of those direct, plain, palpable, demonstrable falsehoods, of which no other man, who ever affected greatness, so often and so impudently availed himself. If Ferdinand originally intended to supplant his father, it was by the help of France that he hoped to effect it. The only act of conspiracy proved against him and his party was, that they had attempted to form such an alliance. For this very act, Buonaparte, in his letter to Vittoria, had censured him; and yet, one reason here assigned for depriving him of the crown, is his hatred of France.

Ferdinand’s answer to this extraordinary paper was, like his former letter, honourable to himself and his advisers. He calmly reminded his father of the inconsistencies in the charges thus adduced against him. Concerning the affair of the Escurial, he said, eleven counsellors, chosen by the King himself, had unanimously declared their opinion, that there was no ground for the accusation; nor could such an opinion have been obtained by undue means, wholly without influence as he was at that time, and virtually a prisoner. The King spoke of the distrust occasioned by the entrance of so great a foreign force into Spain: ... might he be told, that no alarm need have been given by troops entering as friends and allies? He said, that his own troops were collected at Aranjuez to support the glory of the throne: ... might he be reminded, that he had given orders for a journey to Seville, and the troops were intended to keep open that road? Every person believed there was an intention of emigrating to America, manifest as it was that the royal family were going to the coast of Andalusia; and it was this universal belief which occasioned the tumults at Aranjuez. In those tumults, the King knew that his son had taken no other part than by his own command, to protect from the people the object of their hatred, who was believed to be the proposer of the journey. The Emperor, in a letter to Ferdinand, had said, his motive was to induce the King to make certain reforms, and separate from his person the Prince of the Peace, whose influence was the cause of every calamity. The universal joy which his arrest produced throughout the whole nation, evidently proved that this was indeed the case. As to the rest, Charles himself was the best witness that, in the tumults at Aranjuez, not a word was whispered against him, nor against any one of the royal family: ... on the contrary, he was applauded with the greatest demonstrations of joy, and heard the loudest professions of fidelity to his august person. On this account, the abdication surprised every one, and no person more than Ferdinand himself. No one expected, or would have solicited it.... “Your Majesty,” said Ferdinand, “yourself communicated your abdication to your ministers, enjoining them to acknowledge me as their natural lord and sovereign. You communicated it verbally to the diplomatic body, professing that your determination proceeded from your own will, and that you had before determined upon it. You yourself told it to your beloved brother, adding, at the same time, that the signature which your Majesty had put to the act of abdication was the happiest transaction of your life; and, finally, your Majesty told me personally, three days afterwards, I should pay no attention to any assertion that the abdication had not been voluntary, inasmuch as it was in every respect free and self-originating.”

He proceeded to comment upon the charge of his hatred towards France. Wherein had it appeared? Were not the various letters which, immediately after the abdication, he addressed to the Emperor, so many proofs that his principles, with respect to the relations of friendship and strict alliance happily subsisting between the two countries, were those that the King had impressed upon him? Had he not shown his unbounded confidence in the Emperor, by going to Madrid the day after the Grand Duke of Berg had entered that city with a great part of his army, and garrisoned it; so that, in fact, to go there, was to deliver himself into his hands? Had he not, in conformity to the principles of alliance, and to his father’s wish, written to request a princess of the house of Buonaparte in marriage? Had he not sent a deputation to Bayonne to compliment the Emperor in his name? then persuaded his brother the Infante Don Carlos to set off, that he might pay his respects to him on the frontier? lastly, had he not left Madrid for the same purpose himself, on the faith of the assurances given him by the French ambassador, by the Grand Duke, and by General Savary, who had just arrived from France, and who solicited an audience, to tell him that the Emperor only expected he should follow the same system towards France which his father had adopted, in which case he was to be acknowledged as King of Spain, and all the rest would be forgotten? How any of his letters, proving an enmity towards France, should have come into the Emperor’s hands, he could not comprehend, knowing, as he did, that he had never written any.

Ferdinand then referred to his former proposals. “I signified,” said he “my willingness to renounce the crown in your favour, when the Cortes should be convened; and if not convened, when the council and deputies of the kingdom should be assembled; not because I thought this was necessary to give effect to the renunciation, but because I judged it convenient to avoid injurious novelties, which frequently occasion divisions and contentions, and wished every thing might be attended to which concerned your dignity, my own honour, and the tranquillity of the realm. If your Majesty should not choose to reign in person, I will govern in your royal name, or in my own; for no one but myself can represent your person, possessing, as I do, in my favour, the decision of the laws, and the will of the people; nor can any other person have so much interest in their prosperity. I repeat again, that, in such circumstances, and under such conditions, I am ready to accompany your Majesty to Spain, there to make my abdication in the form expressed. But in respect to what you have said of not wishing to return to Spain, with tears in my eyes, I implore you, by all that is most sacred in heaven and earth, that in case you do not choose to re-ascend the throne, you will not leave a country so long known to you, in which you may choose a situation best suited to your injured health, and where you may enjoy greater comforts and tranquillity of mind than in any other. “Finally, I beg your Majesty most affectionately, that you will seriously consider your situation, and that you will reflect on the evil of excluding our dynasty for ever from the throne of Spain, and substituting in its room the imperial family of France. It is a step which we cannot take without the express consent of all the individuals who have, or may have, a right to the crown; much less without an equally-expressed consent of the Spanish people, assembled in Cortes in a place of security; and besides, being now in a foreign country, it would be impossible for us to persuade any one that we acted freely; and this consideration alone would annul whatever we might do, and might produce the most fatal consequences. Before I conclude, your Majesty will permit me to say, that the counsellors whom you call perfidious have never advised me to derogate from the love, respect, and honour, which I have always professed to your Majesty, whose valuable life I pray God to preserve to a happy and good old age.”

On the day after this letter was written, Buonaparte had an hour’s conference with Charles; at the conclusion of which, Ferdinand was called in by his father, to hear, in the presence of this tyrant, and of the Queen, expressions, says Cevallos, so disgusting28 and humiliating, that I do not dare to record them. While all the rest were seated, he was kept standing, and his father ordered him to make an absolute renunciation of the crown, under pain of being treated as an usurper, and a conspirator against the lives of his parents. His household also were threatened to be proceeded against as men guilty of treason. ?May 6.? ?Ferdinand’s renunciation.? Overcome by the sense of their danger, and of his own, the poor pitiable Prince submitted, and delivered in a renunciation, couched in such terms as at once to imply compulsion, and reserve the condition of his father’s return to Spain. “His former renunciation,” he said, “he had believed himself bound to modify with such conditions as were equally required by the respect due to the King, the tranquillity of his dominions, and the preservation of his own honour.” These modifications, to his great astonishment, had excited indignation in the King, who, without any other grounds, had thought proper, in the presence of Buonaparte and of his mother, to revile him with the most humiliating appellations, and to require from him an unconditional renunciation, on pain of being treated, with all those of his council, like a traitor. “Under these circumstances,” said he, “I make the renunciation which your Majesty commands, that you may return to the government of Spain in the same state as when you made your voluntary abdication in my favour.”

Ferdinand was not aware, when he executed this form of renunciation, that his father was no longer qualified to receive it. The tyrant had not waited for this preliminary to conclude his mock negotiations with Charles. This wretched puppet addressed an edict on the 4th to the supreme Junta at Madrid, nominating Murat lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and in that quality, president of the government: the reason assigned was, that one same direction might be given to all the forces of Spain, in order to maintain the security of property and public tranquillity against enemies, as well exterior as interior. All persons, therefore, were enjoined to obey the Grand Duke’s orders. A proclamation to the people accompanied this edict. They were told that their King was occupied in concerting with his ally the Emperor whatever concerned their welfare, and they were warned against listening to perfidious men, who sought to arm them against the French, and the French against them. All those who spoke against France were said to be men who thirsted for the blood of the Spaniards, enemies of that nation, or agents of England, whose intrigues would involve the loss of the colonies, the separation of provinces, and a series of years of calamity for the country. “Trust to my experience,” said this poor mouthpiece of a perfidious and remorseless tyrant; “and obey that authority which I hold from God and my fathers! Follow my example, and think that, in your present situation, there is no prosperity or safety for the Spaniards, but in the friendship of the great Emperor, our ally.” On the same day, Charles addressed a letter to the supreme council of Castille and the council of Inquisition, informing them that having resolved, in the present extraordinary circumstances, to give a new proof of affection towards his beloved subjects, he had abdicated all claims upon the Spanish kingdoms, in favour of his friend and ally, the Emperor of the French. The treaty of resignation, he said, stipulated for the integrity and independence of those kingdoms, and the preservation of the Catholic faith, not only as the predominant, but as the sole and exclusive religion in Spain. The councils were ordered to make every exertion in support of the Emperor, and, above all, with their utmost care to preserve the country from insurrections and tumults.

The preamble to the treaty of resignation stated, that the object of the two contracting princes was to save Spain from the convulsions of civil and foreign war, and to place it in the only position, which, under its present extraordinary circumstances, could maintain its integrity, guarantee its colonies, and enable it to unite all its means to those of France, for the purpose of obtaining a maritime peace. By the first article, Charles ceded all his rights to the throne of Spain and the Indies, having only had in view, he said, during his whole life, the happiness of his subjects, and constantly adhering to the principle, that all the acts of the sovereign ought to be directed to that object solely. This cession was represented as the only means which could re-establish order; and it was covenanted, 1. that it took place only on condition that the integrity of the Spanish kingdom should be maintained; that the prince whom it might please the Emperor to place on the throne should be independent; and that the limits of Spain were to undergo no alteration: 2. that the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman religion, should be the only one in Spain; no reformed religion should be tolerated, still less should infidelity: these things were to be prevented or punished according to the established usage. 3. All property confiscated since the revolution at Aranjuez should be restored; and all decrees which had been passed against the friends of Charles were declared null and void. 4. Charles having thus secured the prosperity, the integrity, and the independence of his kingdom, (such was the monstrous language of this convention!) the Emperor engaged to grant an asylum in his states to him, the Queen, the Prince of the Peace, and such of their servants as might choose to follow them, who should enjoy in France a rank equivalent to that which they possessed in Spain. 5, 6, 7, 8. The palace of Compeigne, with its parks and forests, should be at the disposal of King Charles during his life, and a civil list of 80,000,000 reales should be paid him in monthly payments; after his death the Queen should have a revenue of 2,000,000 for her dowry. An annual rent of 400,000 livres should be granted to each of the Infantes, in perpetuity, reverting from one branch to another, in case of the extinction of one, according to the civil law, and to the crown of France, in case of the extinction of all the branches. It was to be understood that this civil list and these rents were to be looked for exclusively from the treasury of France. The Infantes were, however, by a subsequent article, to continue to enjoy the revenues of their commanderies in Spain. 9, 10. The Castle of Chambord, with its parks, forests, and farms, was given by the Emperor to King Charles, in full property, being in exchange for all the allodial and particular property appertaining to the crown of Spain, but possessed personally.... This convention was signed by General Duroc, grand master of the palace, on the part of Buonaparte, and on the part of Charles by Godoy, under his titles, Spanish and Portugueze, of Prince de la Paz, and Count of Evora-monte. Thus did this man, the last and worst of that succession of favourites who have been the curse of Spain, consummate his own crimes, and, as far as in him lay, the total degradation of his country; rejoicing probably in the vengeance which he was taking upon a nation by whom he was so righteously abhorred. Having done his work, he passed on into France, to live out the remainder of his days, neglected and despised, and to leave behind him a name more infamous than any in Spanish history. One proclamation more was issued in the name of Charles, calling upon all his former subjects to concur in carrying into effect the dispositions of his “dear friend the Emperor Napoleon,” and exhorting them to avoid popular commotions, the effect of which could only be havoc, the destruction of families, and the ruin of all.

Ferdinand had hitherto renounced his right in reference to his father only. A farther renunciation was demanded from him: it was not tamely yielded; and in his last conference with him upon the subject, Buonaparte bade him choose between cession and death. He was informed that he might return to Spain, and that a convoy of French soldiers should escort him to any part of the Peninsula which he might choose. But he was also told, that France would immediately make war upon him, and never suffer him to reign; for it was the duty of the Emperor to maintain the rights of his crown, and those which had been ceded to him by Charles, and to destroy the projects of the partizans of England.

That Ferdinand should at length have yielded, is not to be severely condemned; it is rather to be admired that he should have resisted so long. Even had he been of a more heroic frame, than his family and education were likely to produce, imprisonment, and death, by some dark agency, were all he could expect from farther opposition. Thus intimidated, he authorized Escoiquiz to treat with Duroc for the surrender of his own rights, and those of his brothers and his uncle Don Antonio, who had now been sent from Madrid, rather as prisoners than in any other character. ?May 10.? The preamble declared, that the Emperor of the French and the Prince of Asturias having differences to regulate, had agreed to these terms: 1. That Ferdinand acceded to the cession made by his father, and renounced, as far as might be necessary, the rights accruing to him as Prince of Asturias. 2. The title of royal highness, with all the honours and prerogatives which the Princes of the Blood enjoyed, should be granted to him in France: his descendants should inherit the titles of Prince and Serene Highness, and hold the same rank as the prince-dignitaries of the empire. 3, 4. The palaces, parks, and farms of Navarre, with 50,000 acres of the woods dependent on them, should be given to him, free from incumbrance, in full property for ever; and pass, in default of his heirs, to those of his brother and uncle, in succession: and the title of Prince should be conferred, by letters patent and particular, upon the collateral heir to whom this property might revert. 5, 6. Four hundred thousand livres of appanage on the treasury of France, payable in equal monthly portions, should be settled on him, with reversion, in like manner, to the Infantes, and their posterity; and a life-rent of 600,000 should be given the Prince, the half remaining to the Princess, his consort, if he left one to survive him. 7. The same rank and titles should be assigned to the Infantes and their descendants as to the Prince; they should continue to enjoy the revenues of their commanderies in Spain (as had been agreed in the convention with Charles), and an appanage of 400,000 livres (as also there stipulated) should be settled on them in perpetuity, with reversion to the issue of Ferdinand. No mention was made in the treaty of the Queen of Etruria and her son, a boy of eight years old, who, by the doubly-villanous treaty of Fontainebleau, was to have been made King of Northern Lusitania. Involved in the common ruin of their house, they also had been escorted to Bayonne; and the whole of this unhappy family, now that the mockery of negotiation was at an end, were sent into the interior of France.