The historians' history of the world in twenty-five volumes, volume 10

by Unknown

CHAPTER XI. REVIVAL OF SPAIN UNDER THE FIRST BOURBONS

[1700-1788 A.D.]

Du sein de Paris, Madrid reçoit un Roi.

—Voltaire, La Henriade.

On the 1st of November, 1700, died Charles II, the last male of the Austrian dynasty, which had governed Spain from the death of Ferdinand and Isabella.

[1700-1701 A.D.]

The king had scarcely expired, before the ministers and officers of state assembled, according to ancient custom, to examine and publish the royal testament. As this was a new era in the history of Spain, and as general anxiety prevailed to know the new sovereign, the palace was crowded with people of all ranks, and the antechamber filled with the foreign ministers and principal courtiers, all eager to receive the earliest intelligence. At length, the folding doors being thrown open, the duke of Abrantes appeared, and a general silence ensued to hear the nomination. Near the door stood the two ministers of France and Austria, Blécourt and Harrach. Blécourt advanced with the confidence of a man who expected a declaration in his favour; but the Spaniard, casting on him a look of indifference, advanced to Harrach and embraced him with a fervour which announced the most joyful tidings. Maliciously prolonging his compliment, and repeating his embrace, he said, “Sir, it is with the greatest pleasure—sir, it is with the greatest satisfaction—for my whole life, I take my leave of the most illustrious house of Austria.” The ambassador, who during this strange address had already begun to express his own satisfaction and promise the future favour of his sovereign, was thunderstruck with the malicious, unexpected insult; and it required all his firmness to remain and hear the contents of the will, which overthrew the hopes and baffled the plans of his imperial master.

Philip arrived at Madrid on the 18th of February. On the 21st of April he made a triumphal entry, with a magnificence calculated to flatter a chivalrous and high-spirited nation, and to display all the splendour of a crown esteemed by its subjects the most powerful in the whole Christian world. The eyes of Spain and of Europe were turned to the young king, who was to form the commencement of a new dynasty, and whose accession was a new era in the political history of modern times. Philip had just entered the seventeenth year of his age. Bred up in a bigoted and monotonous court, where everything bore the stamp of submission and bent before the nod of the great monarch, Philip had learned to regard the person and will of his grandfather, Louis XIV, with a respect almost bordering on adoration. He had imbibed also a deep and awful sense of religion, and in his whole conduct and deportment displayed a moral purity and scrupulous decorum which are rarely found in courts.

FRENCH INFLUENCE DOMINATES

As the primary object of Louis XIV was a desire to exclude a hostile family, and employ the power, resources, and territories of Spain for the aggrandisement of his own kingdom, the means and persons who were to direct the movements and fashion the character of Philip were all adapted to the attainments of this end. The first instructions given by the monarch to his pupil and grandson, amidst much trifling and commonplace advice, contain the outlines of that system which time and events were to mature and complete.

Philip literally obeyed these instructions. He placed his full confidence in Portocarrero; he suffered him to assume the power of forming the new ministry, of gratifying his personal or political antipathies, and filling at his pleasure all offices and appointments of state; and from the commencement of his reign Philip was the king of a party and the vassal of France, to whom he principally owed his crown. As Louis foresaw, therefore, that the possession of the Spanish crown must ultimately depend on the decision of arms, he had spared no pains to commence a contest with advantage, even before the death of Charles; and he hoped by a prompt and vigorous effort to bring it to a speedy and successful issue. He had gradually collected a powerful army on the Spanish frontier. By threats and promises he prevailed on the king of Portugal to acknowledge the new sovereign, and conclude an alliance with the house of Bourbon. At the same time he secured an entrance into Italy by negotiating a marriage between Philip and a princess of Savoy. He likewise obtained permission to introduce a French garrison into Mantua, the key of the principal military passage from Germany into Italy.

The unexpected tenor of the Spanish testament, and the foresight and promptitude of Louis, struck a temporary panic into the principal courts of Europe. In Holland the dread of impending ruin excited a unanimous sentiment of indignation against France. Preparations were made for hostilities; but Louis surprised all the frontier fortresses, and captured fifteen thousand Dutch troops by whom they were garrisoned. The fear of an immediate invasion, extorted from the Dutch government an acknowledgment of Philip as sovereign of the whole Spanish monarchy. The parliament and nation of England constrained William to follow this example. The court of Vienna made vigorous preparations to bring the dispute to the test of arms.

On the other hand, the sanguine expectations which the Spanish nation had formed of the wisdom, perfection, and energy of the new government, were too extravagant to be realised; and it was the just remark of the shrewd Louville, that even should an angel descend from heaven to take the reins, the public hopes must be disappointed in the existing state of Spain, gangrened as it was from one extremity to the other. The crown was not only robbed of its splendour, but reduced to inconceivable penury. The same difficulties occurred in raising ten pistoles as ten thousand; the salaries of the royal household were unpaid; the pay of the troops was in constant arrears, and the royal guards were often reduced to share with mendicants the charitable donations of convents and hospitals. The whole army did not exceed twenty thousand men. Thus, totally ruined within and unprovided for war without, it was evident that the preservation of the crown must solely depend on the exertions of Louis XIV.

The change of sovereigns led to other mischiefs, which all the vigilance of the French court was in vain exerted to prevent. On the accession of a French prince, Madrid was crowded with swarms of Frenchmen, of the most despicable and abandoned characters, who were eager to gather the fruits of the promised land. Whole tribes of harlots, swindlers, gamesters, pickpockets, and projectors, allured thither by the lucre of gain, vilified by their infamous conduct their native country, and gave new force to that odium which had hitherto operated as an insuperable barrier between the two nations. The seeds of rebellion were diffused, and the public grievances aggravated by the fanaticism of the clergy. The priests abused the sacred office of confession to excite discontent; the French were stigmatised as heretics; those who were connected with them were accused of irreligion, and even the authority of the pope was falsely employed to give new strength to the pretensions of an Austrian prince. All these causes contributed to excite discontent in a nation wedded to ancient establishments and proud of former magnificence. But the general odium was still further aggravated by the appointment of a Frenchman to the management of the finances. As Portocarrero was himself unequal to the task of remodelling the revenue, Louis, at the instigation of the council, sent Jean Orry [or Orri], a man of obscure birth who in a subordinate branch of the finances in France had acquired a superior knowledge of political economy.

The new minister proposed extensive reforms both in the nature and perception of the revenue, and endeavoured to model it on that of France, with a precipitancy and want of address or discretion ill calculated to conciliate the unbending firmness of the Spanish character. This abrupt attempt to lay the axe at once to the root of all abuses gave great offence to every class of the nation; and the clamour was heightened by his plans for resuming the fiefs extorted by the nobles from the crown in times of trouble and confusion. The nobles imperiously demanded the convocation of the cortes of Castile, the only legitimate assembly which could authorise the innovations, and as an additional argument they urged the necessity of exchanging the customary pledges between the monarch and the people, by the confirmation of the material privilege on one side, and the oath of allegiance on the other. A proposal to convene a body which had essentially curbed the royal authority, embarrassed the king and his personal friends and adherents. It was referred to Louis, but he prudently declined interfering, and Philip, after long deliberation, endeavoured to evade it by declaring that the journey which he was about to make to Catalonia to receive his bride rendered it necessary to defer the convocation till after his return.[c]

THE NEW QUEEN AND THE PRINCESS ORSINI

[1701-1702 A.D.]

The choice of a wife had been an object of anxiety: it fell on Maria Louisa, a princess of Savoy, a lady of mild habits, and no more than fourteen years of age—one who seemed to be excellently fitted for passive obedience. To prevent her correspondence with the court of Turin, she was deprived of all her native domestics; nor was any one of her suite suffered to attend her, except the princess d’Orsini [or des Ursins, or Orsinos], as her camarera mayor, or superintendent of her household. As this lady would probably exercise much influence over the queen, and through the queen over the king and government, she had been selected with great caution. By birth she was French, of the illustrious family of La Trémouille. Her first husband was the prince of Chalais, with whom she had passed some years in Spain: her second, whom she had married in Italy, was Flavio d’Orsini, duke of Bracciano, and grandee of Spain. Her intimacy with Madame de Maintenon proved of singular service to her ambition, after her husband’s death.

A French woman herself, indebted to France for her present fortune and her hopes of greater; acquainted with the Spanish language, society, and manners; possessing an extensive knowledge of the world, a fascinating manner, an intellect at once penetrating and supple; eloquent in her speech, always cheerful and even tempered, with art sufficient to hide her own views and to profit by those of others, she appeared admirably adapted for the purpose of Louis. Hence, after receiving minute instructions for her conduct, she was placed with the young queen, to whom she soon became necessary, and over whom her influence was unbounded.[97]

While Philip remained with his new queen at Barcelona, he opened the cortes of Catalonia. His reason for convoking that assembly was the hope of a considerable donative, perhaps of a supply sufficient to meet the war which his rival the archduke Charles was preparing to wage on his Italian possessions. Before any money was voted, demands were very properly made, and, with some modifications, granted; but the donative was so trifling in amount as to be scarcely worth acceptance. By the states homage was sworn to the king—no doubt with sincerity, notwithstanding the bitter injustice of the marquis of San Felipe,[b] who broadly asserts that they had no intention of observing the oath, and who calls the Catalans naturally perfidious. From Catalonia Philip was expected to return to Madrid; but in the belief that the wavering loyalty of the Neapolitans and Milanese—in the former a conspiracy had broken out for Charles, but soon suppressed—would be confirmed by his presence, he resolved to pass over into Italy. During his absence he left the queen regent of the kingdom, directing her on her return to the capital to hold the cortes of Aragon.

Philip could not command the cordial respect of the Neapolitans. The pope refused to grant him the investiture of the kingdom. From Naples he hastened to Milan, to oppose the imperial general, Prince Eugene, who, notwithstanding the opposition, had established himself in Lombardy. After some unimportant operations, he was present at the bloody but indecisive battle of Luzzara, where he showed great bravery. Soon afterwards he left the camp on his return to Spain, where he was now summoned.

WAR OF THE SPANISH SUCCESSION

Though William of England had acknowledged Philip, he had done so with duplicity: he knew that both his parliaments were at that time averse to war, and he could only wait for some act of hostility on the part of Louis, which, by incensing the English, should enable him to draw the sword. The measures which Louis aimed at the English and Dutch commerce soon furnished him with the opportunity he sought. The two governments now entered into an alliance with Austria, which had hitherto been fighting her own battles in Germany and Italy. The chief objects of this alliance were to obtain satisfaction for the Austrian claims on Spain; to rescue the Netherlands from France; to prevent the union of the French and Spanish crowns; and to exclude subjects of the former from the Spanish possessions in the West Indies. In revenge for this impolitic conduct of William, Louis, with equal impolicy, acknowledged the son of the exiled James Stuart as king of England. This insult roused the Protestant party; supplies were voted for the war; and though the king died in the midst of the preparations, Anne succeeded to the same policy.

A Spanish Captain

Here commences the celebrated War of the Succession, which for so many years agitated all Europe, covered the Netherlands with blood, desolated the fairest provinces of Spain, and ended in the loss of her Italian possessions. The limits of the present chapter will allow us to do no more than briefly advert to its more striking incidents. The reader desirous of fuller information may refer to the histories of France, England, and Austria.

[1702-1704 A.D.]

Omitting all mention of the interminable operations in the Low Countries, Germany, and Italy, in 1702 an expedition consisting of thirty English and twenty Dutch vessels of the line, exclusive of numerous transports, and carrying eleven thousand men, was sent against Cadiz. It was headed by the duke of Ormond, who was totally unqualified for the post; nor were the subordinate generals much more happily chosen.

To the solicitations made by the allied generals, that the local governors would change their sovereign, either insulting replies were returned, or a contemptuous silence was observed. The reply of Villadarias, who said that Spaniards never changed either their religion or their king, was the sentiment of all except one. The disembarkation being at length effected, with some loss, the governor of Rota admitted the invaders, and for his treason was created a marquis, by the agent of the archduke. But the inhabitants had little reason to congratulate themselves; they were plundered, insulted, beaten, and even murdered by the licentious soldiery. At the town of Santa Maria, the inhabitants of which fled at the approach of the invaders, greater excesses were committed.[98] Equally unsuccessful was the attempt of the English ships to force their way into the harbour. Cowardice was now added to murder and rapine; the invaders precipitately retreated to their ships; six hundred of the rearguard were cut to pieces by half the number of pursuers; more still were drowned in their precipitate efforts to regain the ships—all who straggled behind were massacred by the incensed peasantry. The armament returned, and in Vigo Bay it destroyed the greater part of a Spanish and French fleet, rich by the productions of the Indies.

The fate of the governor of Rota, who on the retreat of the English had been hanged by order of Villadarias, did not deter a nobleman of the highest rank, of great power, and still greater riches, from the same treason. Cabrera, the admiral of Castile, who in the preceding reign had dispensed the patronage of the crown, from disappointed ambition, at seeing the cardinal Portocarrero in possession of a post to which he considered himself entitled, opened a treasonable correspondence with the court of Vienna. His intrigues, in a few short months, did more for the allied cause than would have been effected by the English cabinet in as many years: he drew the Portuguese king, Pedro II, into the confederacy, and persuaded Leopold to allow the archduke to visit the peninsula. The treaty which was signed at Lisbon in May, 1703, was as infamous to the character of its partisans as any other transaction of this war.

On the return of Philip, he found the government embarrassed, and the nation indignant, at the recent loss of his wealthy galleons in Vigo Bay. He found, too, the divisions in his cabinet more bitter than even at the period of his departure. To the princess Orsini was owing the declining power of Cardinal Portocarrero, and the ascendency of the count de Montellano, who showed more deference to the queen’s favourite. D’Estrées, a man of considerable talent, of great family, and highly in favour with Louis, disdained to win the princess: the same influence procured his recall, his own nephew, the abbé D’Estrées, being made an instrument of his disgrace. At the same time the Spanish cardinal retired in disgust. The abbé succeeded to his uncle’s post; he, too, quarrelled with the princess; and by conduct at once rash and double, brought on himself the indignation of the king and queen. In his recall, however, he had the gratification to perceive that his charges against the favourite princess d’Orsini had their effect, and that she was ordered to leave the Spanish court at the same time.

Indignant at the loss of her favourite, the queen exhibited her revenge by thwarting the measures of the new French ambassador, the duke of Grammont, and by opposing the execution of every order sent from Paris. Louis soon found that, if he wished to retain his ascendency, her resentment must be appeased. This could be effected only by the return of the princess. That celebrated woman accordingly resumed her former empire; and Grammont was replaced by a successor.

While this feeble cabinet was thus a prey to the basest passions, the storm of war again lowered on the frontier. In pursuance of the treaty with Portugal, twelve thousand English and Dutch troops, who were soon joined by the archduke Charles in person, were landed in that country. But the duke of Schomberg, the general of the English forces, was a man of factitious reputation; he was far inferior in either activity or ability to a son of the English James II, the duke of Berwick, whom Louis placed at the head of the combined French and Spanish army.

With a force considerably superior to that of the enemy, divided into three bodies, and accompanied by Philip in person, he advanced into Portugal. First, Salvatierra was invested and reduced; other fortresses shared the same fate.

Fagel, the Dutch general, was surprised in the wild recesses of the Sierra Estrella; and though he himself effected his escape, his whole division was captured. The marquis de las Minas, the only good officer in the Portuguese service, took the field, defeated Ronquillo, one of the Spanish generals, and in a few days rescued several of the fortresses which had been reduced. Under the walls of Monscato a still more decisive advantage was gained over Ronquillo. The skill of De las Minas was equal to his valour; he baffled every attempt of Berwick to dislodge him, and even forced that general to return across the frontier.

As for Schomberg, he did nothing during the whole campaign, says Berwick,[e] but move from place to place with his army: he was consequently removed, and succeeded by Lord Galway, a man more imbecile than himself. Berwick could easily have triumphed over his stupid or cowardly enemies; but as he was no favourite at court, obstacles were thrown in his way, and towards the close of the campaign he was recalled.

[1704-1705 A.D.]

While these indecisive events were passing in Portugal, an expedition, under the prince of Hesse-Darmstadt and Sir George Rooke, the English admiral, proceeded to Barcelona in 1704. The prince had boasted that no sooner should the standard of Charles be erected, than it would be joined by thousands of the disaffected Catalans. But though sufficiently inclined to throw off their allegiance to Philip, none joined the English, who, after an ineffectual attempt on Barcelona, re-embarked, and returned towards Portugal. On their passage, however, they took Gibraltar; and Sir George had the satisfaction to inflict some loss on the French fleet off the coast of Malaga. But the transactions of the year were little honourable to the allies of Austria.

The following year was destined to prove more memorable, and more successful to the allies. Gibraltar, the blockade of which had been commenced the preceding October by the marquis of Villadarias, and which was now pressed by Tessé, the successor of Berwick, made so gallant a defence that in May its siege was raised. Though disappointed at the ill success of its imbecile generals in Spain, the English cabinet was emboldened, by the victories of Marlborough, to make new and mightier efforts against the Bourbon prince in the south. In June, fifteen thousand men, under Lord Peterborough, were despatched to Spain. This extraordinary man, whose eccentricities even surpassed his genius, on arriving at Lisbon was joined by the archduke Charles, who was justly disgusted with the ill success of his affairs in Portugal. The prince of Hesse-Darmstadt persuaded the archduke to advance against Barcelona. He well knew that the indignation of the people against the crown and the Castilians, joined to their desire for the recovery of their lost independence,—a desire which had subsisted with unimpaired force since the time of Ferdinand the Catholic,—had multiplied the disaffected.

[1705-1706 A.D.]

On arriving before Barcelona, Peterborough saw that the fortifications were in the best state, and well defended; and he knew that an army four times as numerous as the one he commanded would be necessary to form the first line of circumvallation. In this emergency he resolved to attempt the surprise of the fortress of Monjuich, which overlooks the city, and the possession of which would, if not decide, at least prepare the surrender of Barcelona. But that fortress, being built on the summit of an abrupt hill, and protected by formidable works, was considered impregnable; and impregnable it would have proved to an open attack. Secrecy being the soul of his enterprise, which he did not communicate even to the archduke, with the view of lulling the garrison into security, he re-embarked his great guns, and announced his intention of sailing for Italy. But, the very night appointed for his departure, he silently moved fourteen hundred men towards the works, acquainted the gallant Hesse-Darmstadt with his intention; and both heroes, on reaching the foot of the ramparts, waited until day should dawn.

The assault was then vigorously made by about three hundred men. It succeeded though the prince was killed. From this elevation the artillery of the English played with tremendous effect on the ramparts of the city; a breach was made, and a day appointed for the assault. The governor, Velasco, though among the bravest of the brave, to avoid the horrors attending a storming, offered to capitulate. On the 23rd of October, the archduke solemnly entered, and was proclaimed king of Spain. The example of the capital was followed by the rest of the principality; it spread into Valencia, next into Aragon and Murcia, which ultimately ranged themselves on the same side. For the rapidity of such success it is difficult to account.

The English historians gently slide over the atrocities of this war. Though all profess to follow San Felipe[b] they do not mention the rapes, murders, acts of sacrilege, and robberies committed by the English and their allies, the Catalan miquelets, who were, in fact, a species of banditti. Wives ravished before the eyes of their fettered husbands, daughters before their fathers; even churches turned into brothels, and the altars used as the most convenient places for the consummation of such iniquities, are said to have been common scenes. The Catalans themselves are implicated in them.

Lord Mahon[f] will not allow Tessé[g] to have possessed merit of any description. Both his memoirs and his letters show that he was a sagacious observer; and his military talents were unquestionably not mean.

The reduction of Barcelona and the insurrection of Valencia could not fail to make a profound impression at Madrid. By this time Philip seems to have attained a salutary conviction that, unless he assumed an activity corresponding to his circumstances, his reign would soon be at an end; he accordingly resolved to take the field in person. Having petitioned Louis for a powerful reinforcement, and withdrawn most of the troops engaged on the frontiers of Portugal,—leaving a handful only under Berwick, who had been again ordered to assume the conduct of the western war,—he proceeded to invest Barcelona, the recovery of which would naturally constrain the submission of Catalonia, and perhaps put an end to the war by the capture of his rival.

In the passage through Aragon little care was taken by the royal army to cultivate the good will of the people; because a lieutenant was murdered in his bed at Guerrea, the incensed soldiers were permitted, not only to plunder the inhabitants, but to massacre the neighbouring peasantry. Philip proceeded towards the capital, under the walls of which he was joined by the duke of Noailles; and he had the gratification of seeing the entrance to the harbour blockaded by a fleet of thirty sail. Yet twenty-three days elapsed before the fall of Monjuich, and several more before a breach was made in the walls of the city wide enough to admit the assailants. In a few hours Philip was assured that the enemy would be in his power. At this critical moment, when the sun of Charles seemed to be set forever, a British squadron appeared in sight; the French fleet retired towards Toulon.

Valencia

Philip, forsaking his guns, his baggage, and even his wounded, made a precipitate though reluctant retreat. At this time his affairs seemed hopeless. The duke of Marlborough had just triumphed at Ramillies; a French army in Italy had been almost annihilated; and the war in his own western provinces was no less disastrous than in the eastern. Great as were the abilities of Berwick, his small band could not face the forty thousand enemies before him: he therefore retreated, and had the mortification to witness the capture of Alcantara, Ciudad Rodrigo, and Salamanca, and the approach of the confederates towards Madrid. By his advice the court was removed to Burgos, the ancient capital of Castile. It was high time; for scarcely had Philip left it, when the light troops of Galway and De las Minas appeared in sight, and on the 28th day of June, those chiefs, at the head of thirty thousand men, made a triumphant entry into Madrid.

To ordinary and even to many acute observers the Bourbon power seemed forever fallen in the peninsula. Without forces, without money, a fugitive from his capital, which was occupied by a formidable enemy, his fairest provinces in the power of his rival, Philip was expected to retreat into France. But adversity called forth powers which had hitherto slumbered within him, and the existence of which had not been suspected, perhaps, even by himself. With a fortitude which would have done honour to a stoic, he bore his sudden, almost overwhelming reverses: with pathetic simplicity he harangued his handful of troops, whom he assured of his unalterable resolution of dying with them in defence of their common country; and, as to the future, he looked forward with a hope which showed that he knew the Spanish character much better than his timid counsellors.

[1706-1707 A.D.]

When the allied troops had entered into Madrid, no shout had been raised in favour of Charles: a mournful silence reigned on every side. Madrid was not Spain, and the Spaniards were not Flemings—facts of which the allied generals had soon a melancholy experience. In Castile, almost every individual became a soldier. Estremadura furnished and equipped twelve thousand; in Salamanca, no sooner had the allies left it on the march to the capital than the inhabitants arose, again proclaimed Philip, and levied a body of troops to cut off all communication between them and Portugal. Those whom sickness or age prevented from drawing the sword, contributed their money to the same end. “The day before yesterday,” wrote the princess Orsini, “a priest brought 120 pistoles to the queen, from a village which contained only the same number of houses. He said, ‘My flock are ashamed of sending so small a sum; but they wish me to say that there are also 120 hearts faithful even to death.’ The good man wept as he spoke, and truly we wept with him!” The rising spirit of the people was not the only cause of this change: the allied generals grew suddenly inactive; the troops in Madrid abandoned themselves to many excesses, which they found more attractive than the fatigues and dangers of a campaign. Had even the inhabitants been attached to Charles, the presence of the Portuguese—such were nearly all the troops under De las Minas—would have changed their loyalty into disgust. Another expedient of a most loathsome kind did more mischief; the common women were instructed to visit the tents of the invaders, of whom six thousand were soon taken to the hospitals.

Charles himself wasted so much time in Barcelona and Aragon, that when he joined his generals at Guadalajara he perceived the active Berwick at the head of a greater force than his own. By that able man his communication with Aragon was intercepted—it had been already cut off with Portugal; Andalusia was in arms, so that his only way of escape was into Valencia.

Philip joined in the pursuit as far as the confines of Murcia, witnessed the reduction of Orihuela, Cuenca, and Cartagena, and returned in triumph to Madrid, which received him with enthusiastic demonstrations of joy.

[1707-1710 A.D.]

The tide of success had now set in too strongly to be stemmed by any barrier opposed by the allies. On the plain of Almanza, De las Minas and Galway were signally defeated by the able Berwick. This victory established the throne of Philip: it inspired his adherents with confidence; in the same degree it dispirited his enemies, and it was followed by advantages of still greater moment. While the duke d’Orléans, who arrived with reinforcements from France, led an army into Aragon, Berwick proceeded to reduce the fortresses of Valencia. The capitals of both kingdoms submitted without striking a blow: in the former, the example was imitated by the remaining strong places; in the latter Denia, Jativa, and Alicante resisted, but were ultimately reduced. In punishment of their desperate valour the inhabitants of Jativa were barbarously butchered, the walls were razed to the ground, and when it was subsequently rebuilt, it was not allowed to retain its former name, but received that of San Felipe. But the heaviest of all penalties was the abolition of the ancient fueros, both of Aragon and Valencia, by a royal decree of June 29th, 1707. This abolition was effected in virtue of the royal authority, and of the right of conquest; the privileges, says the decree, had been granted at the mere pleasure of the crown, and the same pleasure now revoked them. The pretension was not more iniquitous than it was false. But these considerations had no influence on the Castilians, who looked only at the rebellion, and who, envious of the distinction hitherto possessed by the other kingdoms, were now resolved to reduce them to the same level. The same fate had been decreed against the privileges of Catalonia, the recovery of which now occupied the cares of the French general. But, before this object could be gained, new and almost unparalleled difficulties had to be encountered. Naples was conquered by the Austrians; and Milan was already in their power. Tortosa made a long and brilliant defence; some reinforcements were received from England; Galway was displaced by Stanhope, an officer of courage and experience; Count Starhemberg, the imperial general, arrived with auxiliaries, and the Balearic Isles were reduced by the allies.

Yet though in addition to these misfortunes the duke of Orléans was recalled through the intrigues of the princess Orsini; though, from the reverses of his arms in the Low Countries, Louis XIV intimated that he should be compelled to make whatever terms he could with the allies, if even they insisted on the sacrifice of his grandson; though the finances were in a distressed state; though, in the memorable campaign of 1710, Philip failed against Balaguer, was defeated by Starhemberg at Almenara, still more signally near Saragossa; though he was forced to retreat to his capital, and immediately afterwards to transfer his court from Madrid, which he was again destined to see in the power of his enemies, to Valladolid—still he had the consolation to find that his reverses endeared him to his people, and that Spanish loyalty and honour were not to be shaken. Volunteers again flocked in from all quarters; again were contributions of money and corn sent as free gifts. Add to this that the victory of La Godiña, obtained over the luckless Galway, the recovery of Ciudad Rodrigo, and the reduction of some Portuguese fortresses on the Estremadura frontier had naturally encouraged many to remain firm in their loyalty; and so great was the attachment borne to him that, when his rival Charles entered the capital (in October), scarcely a “viva!” was raised even by the lowest of the mob. The English general candidly confessed that the allies could command no more of the country than where they were actually encamped, and that the nation was against them. Charles was soon disgusted with Madrid; he left it the following month, and was scarcely beyond the gates when he had the mortification to hear the bells merrily ringing for his departure. During their stay, his English allies exasperated the people beyond forgiveness by their continued insults to the established faith, and by lawless rapine.

Again was Philip recalled by the inhabitants of Madrid, who greeted him with their warmest acclamations. Accompanied by the duke of Vendôme, who had arrived from France, he hastened in pursuit of the allies. At Brihuega they overtook Stanhope, at the head of fifty-five hundred men, chiefly English. In suffering himself to be surprised by a force so much superior, in a town of which the fortifications were few, and these few ruinous, was a fatal error; but he nobly resolved to prolong the defence to the last extremity. But in the end, when longer resistance was impossible, these brave men capitulated, and were dispersed through Castile.

The following morning Starhemberg, who had been requested by Stanhope to advance to the relief of his allies, arrived within sight of the place, and Vendôme prepared to receive him. In the battle which ensued, fortune declared for Vendôme.

[1710-1713 A.D.]

These disasters, at a time when the allied cause was expected to be resistless, the amazing sacrifices of men and money, which England had so long and so unwisely made, and, above all, the change of Queen Anne’s ministry, strongly indisposed her people to the continuation of the war. Besides, by the death of the emperor Joseph, in April, 1711, Charles, the last male of his house, succeeded to immense possessions, and was invested with the imperial dignity—an expectation indeed soon verified by the event; and the union of so many states with the crown of Spain threatened to become no less fatal to the pretended balance of power than even the union of France and Spain.

At length Louis, having consented to swear that the two crowns of France and Spain should never be united on the same head; and Philip having renounced, both for himself and his successors, all claim to the former—engagements which neither considered binding—a general peace was signed, April 11th, 1713, by the ambassadors of all the sovereigns except the emperor. Its provisions, as far as Spain is concerned, were few but momentous. Philip was acknowledged king of Spain and the Indies; but Sicily, with the regal title, was ceded to the duke of Savoy, and Milan, Naples, Sardinia, and the Netherlands to the emperor; Gibraltar, and Minorca, with the commercial advantages before mentioned, to the English; a general amnesty was guaranteed to the Catalans, but without any stipulations for the preservation of their ancient fueros. In case Philip died without issue, the succession was to devolve, not on a prince of the house of France but on the duke of Savoy.

By this celebrated peace Spain was stripped of half her possessions in Europe. The War of the Succession was now virtually at an end: Charles, disabled by the defection of his allies, opened negotiations for withdrawing his troops from Catalonia; and though the inhabitants of the capital were resolved to continue the struggle unaided, it could not be of long continuance. Neither this war, nor the peace which followed it, was honourable to the allies. It was signalised by many atrocities, and by incessant insults to the religion of the country, and the morals of the people.

Of all the parties in this war, England is by far the most censurable. Hurried into it by hereditary, and in this case absurd, jealousy of France, she conducted it without glory, and ended it with discredit. She forced the Catalans into rebellion, yet she now abandoned them to a cruel and vindictive persecution.

THE CATALAN REVOLT (1713-1714 A.D.)

[1713-1714 A.D.]

When the Catalans knew that the king had resolved to abolish their fueros, that neither honour nor justice was to be expected from England, and that the emperor himself was compelled to forsake them, instead of bewailing their situation, they manfully resolved to continue in arms against the whole force of the Bourbons. They rejected the proffered amnesty of Philip, unless their privileges were to be declared inviolable. Had the king complied with this condition, he would, doubtless, have attached to his throne, by the strongest of all ties, this brave and independent people; but he appears to have regarded every form of freedom with abhorrence, and to have considered the frequent insurrections as a consequence of their superior rights. A slight acquaintance with the national history would have taught him that they were occasioned by the repeated and unconstitutional usurpations of the crown.

The Catalans did not fall without one of the noblest struggles on record. An overwhelming army reduced all their fortresses, except Cardeña and the capital; the latter was invested, held for months in a state of blockade, while a formidable artillery played, with few intermissions, on the walls. In the spring of 1714, twenty thousand Frenchmen, under Berwick, arrived to reinforce the besiegers; nay, an English squadron was despatched for the same purpose. Nothing could daunt the inhabitants; all who were strong enough flew to arms; even the women and the ecclesiastics. Unfortunately they disgraced their cause by many excesses: never was tyranny more complete than that which reigned within the walls of Barcelona. All who did not prefer the rashest to the most moderate measures, were massacred by a ferocious mob. Even priests were forced from the altar or the pulpit to the scaffold or the gallows. In the meantime Berwick found that his most vigorous attacks were repulsed with loss. The desperate defenders had rallied round a black banner, on which was the representation of a death’s head,—an intimation that they would neither give nor receive quarter,—in a series of wild, almost superhuman efforts.

Pulpit, Burgos Cathedral

Nothing now remained but to make the last awful attempt. Fifty companies of grenadiers advanced. Of the desperate valour of the besieged some idea may be formed, when it is known that in the course of this eventful day the bastion of San Pedro was won and lost eleven times: women and priests advanced to the charge with amazing impetuosity; and such was the havoc which they and their comrades inflicted on the enemy, that in one regiment, long before the close of the struggle, every superior officer had fallen, and an ensign remained with the command. But numbers prevailed: after twelve hours of incessant fighting, the small remnant of Catalans began to give way; a white flag was hoisted, the carnage was suspended, negotiations were opened; but as the deputies still insisted on the inviolability of their ancient rights, they were hastily broken off. During the night, a fire of musketry was maintained from the houses; but in the morning of September 12th, when Berwick was proceeding to put all to the sword, and burn the city to the ground, the leaders consented to capitulate.[99]

[1712-1716 A.D.]

In return for his renunciation of all future claim to the crown of Fiance, in 1712, Philip forced, rather than persuaded, his council to alter the order of succession in Spain—to introduce a sort of Salic law, by which the most distant male of the family would be called to the inheritance in preference to the nearest female. The cabals of the princess Orsini, who aspired to a small independent sovereignty in the Low Countries, and who in her disappointment opposed everything which had not served her personal ambition, added to the national dissatisfaction. Even after the death of the queen of Spain, in February, 1714, who left two sons, the infantes Luis and Ferdinand, her influence remained paramount. Perceiving that Philip would not long remain without a queen, it was her aim to provide him with one who would be as flexible to her purposes as the last. To preserve her present reign, she caused the direction of affairs to be intrusted to M. Orry, whose attempts to shake the power of the Inquisition, to curtail the immunities of the church, rendered both him and her the objects of orthodox hatred. But her ascendency was fast hastening to its close; and, with all her penetration, it was hastened by one of far humbler rank, but of superior cunning to herself.

At this period the celebrated Italian abate Alberoni appears on the stage of Spanish history: he had entered the country as the agent of the duke of Parma, and had been protected by Vendôme. He had access to the court, where he soon insinuated himself into the good graces of the princess. Seeing her embarrassment in choosing a wife for the king, he one day proposed Elizabeth [or Isabella] Farnese, daughter of the late, and niece of the present duke of Parma, whom he artfully represented as simple, devout, immured from the world, and exactly fitted to become her instrument.

Negotiations were secretly opened for the marriage; the papal dispensation—for the future was nearly related to the deceased queen—was procured; and the favourite exulted in the prospect of continued rule, when she discovered the real character of her future mistress. Scarcely was she introduced to Elizabeth, when, by order of the latter, she was arrested and hurried towards the frontier, without a moment’s time to collect her wardrobe. She passed to Rome, where she ended her days in the household of the unfortunate Stuart. Her fate excited no sympathy; it was rather beheld with satisfaction: but yet it will be regarded by future generations with much interest, as a peculiar illustration of the instability of courts.

A NEW EUROPEAN WAR (1715-1719 A.D.)

The disgrace of the princess Orsini was followed by the removal of Orry and her other creatures from the administration. Like her predecessor Maria Louisa, Elizabeth succeeded to the most unbounded power over the royal mind, especially after the death of Louis XIV, whom Philip had been accustomed to regard with mingled reverence and fear. That event changed his policy. Next to Louis XV, now a child, he was the heir to the French crown—his renunciation to procure the Peace of Utrecht had been esteemed both by himself and his grandfather a farce—and, as such, he might aspire to the regency. It was dexterously seized by the duke d’Orléans, a circumstance which alienated him from the French court.

[1716-1718 A.D.]

The queen, whose talents were of a higher order than her predecessor’s, whose power of dissimulation would have been honoured even in Italy, aspired to place a son of her own (in 1716 she was delivered of the infante Don Charles) on the throne of France. To the attainment of this object, and the continuation of the Spanish influence in Italy, her whole soul was bent. Having, by his dexterous intrigues no less than the queen’s favour, annihilated the power of the prime minister, the cardinal Del Giudice, and obtained the direction of affairs, Alberoni began to exhibit his designs on Italy, which were so injurious to the Austrian domination in that peninsula. They could not be wholly hidden from the imperial court; hence distrust, next ill will between Madrid and Vienna.

The impolitic and arbitrary arrest of the Spanish ambassador in Italy, by the emperor’s order, so irritated Philip, that he resolved on war, even though he knew that a triple alliance had been formed between France, England, and Holland, to preserve the integrity of the Treaty of Utrecht. As Spain was sure to stand alone in the conflict, and might probably be opposed to all Europe, Alberoni strongly disapproved the war, until he saw that, by persisting in his fruitless opposition, he should only seal his own disgrace. From that moment he showed great alacrity in preparing for it. With the view of conferring greater lustre on his character and administration, he compelled the pope to bestow on him the dignity of cardinal.

In August an armament, consisting of twelve ships and nine thousand men, left Barcelona and steered for Sardinia. In about two months the island was subdued. So unjustifiable an aggression, without previous declaration of war, deeply mortified the emperor and alarmed Europe. In June, 1718, a Spanish fleet, consisting of twenty-three ships and thirty thousand men, again left Barcelona, cast anchor about four leagues from Palermo, and landed the forces. Europe beheld with some alarm this vigorous and unexpected effort of a power which, since the reign of Philip II, had sunk into insignificance. In the apprehension of another war not less fatal than that which had been ended by the Peace of Utrecht, France now joined with England, Austria, and the Dutch in the treaty afterwards known by the name of the Quadruple Alliance. But the cardinal disregarded the approaching storm, and refused to recall the forces in Sicily. Palermo and Messina (except the citadel) were speedily occupied; the whole island was preparing to receive the Spanish yoke, when the British fleet, under Admiral Byng, arrived off the Sicilian coast. In the action which followed, the Spanish fleet was almost wholly taken or destroyed. In revenge, Alberoni entered into an alliance with Charles XII of Sweden and the czar Peter to assist the Stuart in an invasion of Great Britain; but the death of the Swedish hero frustrated his hopes.

His next step was to organise a conspiracy, the object of which was to arrest the French regent, the duke of Orléans, and to proclaim Philip as the guardian of the infante Luis. It was discovered, and war declared against Spain. At the head of thirty thousand men, the celebrated Berwick passed the Pyrenees into Biscay, traversed Béarn, invaded Catalonia, took Urgel, and, after an ineffectual attempt on Rosas, retired into Roussillon. Undaunted by these reverses, the cardinal fitted out at Cadiz a formidable expedition, which he professed to be directed against Sicily, but which he despatched under the duke of Ormonde; towards Scotland, to assist in placing James Stuart on the throne of Britain. But a fatality seems to have attended all Spanish armaments against England. Off Cape Finisterre, the present one was dispersed by a violent storm; two frigates only reached their destination, and the handful of troops they poured on the Scottish coast was soon compelled to surrender. In revenge a British squadron committed great devastations on the coast of Galicia.

[1718-1724 A.D.]

In Sicily, affairs began to assume an appearance equally unfavourable for this enterprising minister. Austrian troops were poured into the island, and the Spaniards were driven from their plains into the fortified places. Spain now stood alone against armed Europe. These misfortunes made a deep impression on the mind of Philip, who began to regard his minister with an unfriendly eye. The cardinal, in the height of his power and totally unsuspicious of his situation, received a sudden order to leave Madrid in a week, and the Spanish dominions in three.

His memory was bitterly persecuted in Spain: attempts were made to procure his degradation from the purple; but he vindicated himself in an elaborate apology,[i] which he contrived to publish, and which did little honour to Philip and the queen. In twelve months, on the death of Clement XI, he emerged from his secret retirement, and attended the conclave for the election of a new pope. He was subsequently a great favourite with the Roman see. While in power he had introduced many and most salutary improvements into the internal administration; he restored to a considerable extent the national prosperity; and he was beyond all comparison the greatest minister the country had possessed since the famous cardinal Ximenes Cisneros.

After the removal of the cardinal, Philip acceded to the Quadruple Alliance, renounced all claim to the dismembered provinces of the monarchy, consented to see Sicily transferred to the emperor, and Sardinia to the duke of Savoy: in return, he was acknowledged by his old rival as king of Spain and the Indies; and the reversion of the two Italian principalities was entailed on the issue of his present marriage—on the condition, however, that they should never be united with the Spanish crown. But these were poor advantages in comparison with the extent of his preparations for the war. Having humbled the Moors of Africa, who had long aimed at the reduction of Ceuta, he demanded Gibraltar, which, in fact, had been verbally promised to him by the duke of Orléans, as the condition of his acceding to the Quadruple Alliance. That the duke had acted by the authority of the English government, is indisputable; but the ministry, seeing the opposition of the English people to the restitution of so important a place, were not ashamed to sacrifice the honour of the country, and to evade the fulfilment of the pledge. This was a subject of endless dispute between the two governments during the remainder of Philip’s reign.

PHILIP ABDICATES AND RETURNS (1724 A.D.)

In revenge, and because he really found that his best dependence was in his own family, in 1721, he contracted a matrimonial alliance with the hereditary enemy of England: his eldest son Luis was contracted with Louisa Isabella [or Elizabeth], daughter of the duke of Orléans. Soon after, he formed a resolution which filled all Europe with astonishment, that of abdicating the crown in favour of his son and of retiring to the splendid palace of San Ildefonso, which he had himself founded. The motives for this step may be found in his melancholy temperament, in his religious feeling—a feeling little tempered by sober reason—and in an anxiety to escape from sceptred cares, which had weighed more heavily on him than on any other prince of the age. Nor was he without the ambition of equalling, in this respect, the glory of his predecessor the emperor Charles. The decree of abdication was dated January 10th, 1724; and Philip, having solemnly vowed never to resume the crown, retired in a few days to his chosen retreat. The court of the youthful Luis was filled with Philip’s own creatures, who paid more deference to him than to their new monarch; nor was anything of moment undertaken without his previous sanction. The irregularities of the court afforded him sufficient pretext for interference. Louisa Isabella, the new queen, was wayward, capricious, and depraved; regardless of Spanish customs, and attached to the follies if not the licentiousness of the French court. To correct her, she was arrested, and confined to the Buen Retiro, but released before the end of the week, on her promise of amendment. The death of Luis (who by will declared him successor), by the smallpox, in August, 1724, after a seven months’ reign, again induced Philip to claim the sovereignty. But that sovereignty he had solemnly abdicated; the act had been registered by the council of Castile, and sanctioned by his own vow. Through the artifices of the queen, however, who prevailed on the papal legate to absolve him from his vow, he dismissed his unwelcome scruples, and resumed the regal functions in all their extent.

THE ADVENTURES OF RIPPERDÁ

[1724-1726 A.D.]

The restoration of Philip was naturally that of his queen’s policy—the establishment, by treaty or force, of his son Don Charles [afterwards Charles III] in the Italian principalities. Indignant at the evident lukewarmness of England, France, and Holland, in a matter which they themselves had proposed to advocate, he suddenly swerved from his past policy, and despatched an ambassador to Vienna to obtain from the emperor, hitherto his bitter rival, advantages which were not to be expected from the interested delays of the mediators.

The person employed in this mission was one of the most extraordinary characters in political life—the baron de Ripperdá, a Catholic gentleman of Spanish descent, but a native of the Netherlands, of good education but of no principle. Perceiving that his religion was a barrier to his ambition in his native country, he embraced the Protestant, and was returned a deputy to the states-general. His general talents and his knowledge of commerce were such that he was chosen envoy to Madrid, to settle the commercial differences of the two nations. Perceiving that both fortune and honours were to be more easily obtained in the service of Spain than in any other, he resigned his ministry, procured letters of naturalisation, and reverted to his original religion.

The fall of Alberoni, which was partly owing to his intrigues, and the bold plans he proposed for invigorating the industry and improving the revenues of the kingdom, rendered him a favourite with Philip; with the queen, his bold suggestion to negotiate immediately with the emperor established his credit. Being selected for the difficult mission, in November, 1725, he repaired secretly to Vienna. Early in the following year treaties were signed. For his services on this occasion, and still more for the magnificent, though impracticable proposals which he had made for the renovation of the Spanish monarchy, the ambassador was created duke de Ripperdá, a grandee of Spain, and on his return, prime minister.

[1726-1729 A.D.]

But his elevation turned his head; his inability to realise any of the magnificent promises which he had made showed him in his true colours—as an unprincipled adventurer. Not six months had elapsed since his accession when, by a royal decree, he was dismissed from his employments and transferred to the fortress of Segovia. There he would, doubtless, have ended his days without trial, had he not contrived to effect his escape by the aid of a maid-servant whom he had seduced, and who afterwards accompanied him in all his extraordinary adventures. He arrived safely in Portugal, embarked at Oporto, remained a short time in England, and proceeded into his native country; but the imminency of his danger increasing, he fled to Morocco, where a renegade had secured him a favourable reception. Whether, as is asserted, during his short stay in Holland he again embraced the Protestant faith, is perhaps doubtful, but that at the court of Mulei Abdallah he submitted to circumcision is probable, even though the relation rests on no other authority than that of his enemies. It is certain that for some years he directed the councils and commanded the armies of the Moorish emperor, after whose dethronement he retired to Istria, where he ended his days in 1737, professing, in his last moments, that he died in the Roman Catholic faith.

Spanish Noblewoman

[1729-1738 A.D.]

The chief remaining transactions of this eventful reign must be related with greater brevity. For some time after the disgrace of Ripperdá, Spain adhered to the German alliance; and was alternately friendly or adverse to England, according as the policy of the two courts harmonised or varied. Gibraltar was more than once besieged, but without effect. British armaments frequently appeared off the Spanish coast, but without inflicting much injury. As the emperor was naturally averse again to admit the Spaniards into Italy, and sought for delays, even for evasions, in fulfilling his compact, in 1729 the Treaty of Seville, between Spain, England, and France, broke the connection between the courts of Vienna and Madrid. Philip, by threatening to revoke the commercial advantages secured by the Treaty of Seville, forced the English king to interfere in behalf of Don Charles. In virtue of his efforts, and the assistance of France, the infante was soon invested with the actual possession of Parma and Piacenza, and declared successor to Tuscany.[100] As England evinced a disposition to remain on good terms with the emperor, the Bourbons adhered the more closely to each other; the kings of Spain, France, and Sardinia entered into an alliance against Austria.

It was now that doubtful measures and useless treaties were succeeded by active and extended hostilities. While one French army crossed the Rhine, and another passed the Alps, a Spanish army under Charles invaded Naples, and conquered it almost without an effort. Sicily was next reduced; and the infante, by order of Philip, was solemnly crowned king of the Two Sicilies. By the Treaty of Vienna, in 1735, the emperor, whose arms had been almost uniformly unfortunate, consented to acknowledge Charles, and in return he received Parma and Tuscany.

Omitting the petty intrigues in the cabinet of Madrid—the rise of one worthless favourite, or the ruin of another—the foreign transactions of the country continued to be sufficiently important. England was soon brought into hostile collision with this monarchy. One reason was the jealousy entertained of the Bourbon family by the recent acquisition; another was the opposition thrown in the way of English commerce by the ministers of Philip; a still greater was the contraband traffic which England resolved to maintain with the American colonies—a traffic not very honourable to England and deeply injurious to Spain. On the other hand, the royal officers in the West Indies, under the pretext of the right of search, made many illegal seizures; and, on all occasions, exhibited indirect hostility to the British trade. Her right of search arose from her sovereignty, and had been confirmed by successive treaties; but it was suddenly assailed by the English opposition.[l]

THE LAST OF THE ARMADA

There is no doubt that though the English were most frequently to blame in these transactions, several cases of injustice and violence might be imputed to the Spaniards. These cases were carefully culled out, and highly coloured by the British merchants: these were held out to the British public as fair samples of the rest, while a veil was thrown over the general practice of illicit traffic in America. The usual slowness of forms at Madrid and the difficulty of obtaining redress, even in the clearest cases, added to the national indignation in England: it was also inflamed by a denial of the right to cut logwood in the bay of Campeche, and disputes on the limits of the new settlement which the English had lately formed in North America, and which, in honour to the king, had received the name of Georgia.

These grievances of the British merchants, embodied in angry yet artful petitions, were urged by the opposition in repeated attacks and with combined exertions. First came a motion for papers, next the examination of witnesses, next a string of resolutions, then a bill for securing and encouraging trade to America. The tried ability of Pulteney led the van on these occasions, and under him were marshalled the practical knowledge of Barnard, the stately eloquence of Wyndham, and the rising genius of Pitt. William Murray, the future earl of Mansfield, also appeared at the bar as counsel for the petitioners, and thus commenced his brilliant public career. Every resource of oratory was applied to exaggerate the insults and cruelties of the Spaniards, and to brand as cowardice the minister’s wise and honourable love of peace. It was asserted that the prisoners taken from English merchant vessels had been not merely plundered of their property, but tortured in their persons, immured in dungeons, or compelled to work in the Spanish dockyards, with scanty and loathsome food, their legs cramped with irons, and their bodies overrun with vermin. Some captives and seamen who were brought to the bar gave testimony to these outrages, and were then implicitly believed. Yet calmer judgment may remember that they were not examined upon oath, and had every temptation to exaggerate which interest, party zeal, or resentment can afford; that to inveigh against the Spaniards was then considered a sure test of public spirit; and that they were told to expect, upon the fall of Walpole, a large and lucrative indemnity for their pretended wrongs.

[1738-1739 A.D.]

But the tale that produced the most effect upon the house, and found the loudest echo in the country, was what Burke has since ventured to call “the fable of Jenkins’ ears.” This Jenkins had been master of a trading sloop from Jamaica, which was boarded and searched by a Spanish guarda costa, and though no proofs of smuggling were discovered, yet, according to his own statement, he underwent the most barbarous usage. The Spanish captain, he said, had torn off one of his ears, bidding him carry it to his king, and tell his majesty that were he present he should be treated in the same manner.

This story, which had lain dormant for seven years, was now seasonably revived at the bar of the house of commons. It is certain that Jenkins had lost an ear, or part of an ear, which he always carried about with him wrapped in cotton, to display to his audience; but I find it alleged by no mean authority that he had lost it on another occasion, and perhaps, as seems to be insinuated, in the pillory. His tale, however, as always happens in moments of great excitement, was readily admitted without proof; and a spirited answer which he gave enhanced the popular effect. Being asked by a member what were his feelings when he found himself in the hands of such barbarians, “I recommended,” said he, “my soul to God, and my cause to my country.” These words rapidly flew from mouth to mouth, adding fuel to the general flame, and it is almost incredible how strong an impulse was imparted both to parliament and to the public. “We have no need of allies to enable us to command justice,” cried Pulteney; “the story of Jenkins will raise volunteers.”

On his part, Walpole did not deny that great outrages and injuries had been wrought by the Spaniards, but he expressed his hope that they might still admit of full and friendly compensation; he promised his strenuous exertions with the court of Madrid, and he besought the house not to close the avenue to peace by any intemperate proceedings, and especially by denouncing altogether the right of search,[101] which the Spaniards had so long exercised, and would hardly be persuaded to relinquish.[j]

SPANISH ACCOUNT OF THE WAR WITH ENGLAND (1739-1741 A.D.)

[1739-1741 A.D.]

At length Walpole could no longer resist public outcry; King George gave orders for a numerous squadron to be fitted out and appointed Vernon admiral of the fleet destined against the Spanish Antilles. A formal declaration of war was published on October 23rd, 1739. London received it with enthusiasm, the bells of the churches were pealed, a huge multitude accompanied the heralds, and everywhere it was heard with frenzied acclamation. It would seem that Great Britain’s salvation depended on this war, and speculators rejoiced at the prospect of the treasures to be brought from the mines of Peru and Potosí. It was also many years since the Spaniards had entered on a war with such unanimous good will. Monarch, ministers, and people looked upon it as a national struggle, in which justice and the interests and honour of king and state were at stake.

Fortunately also, the fleet arrived opportunely from America, with great profits, having evaded the vigilance of the English who attempted to give chase. By this means, while England was compelled to keep a considerable fleet to watch the movements of the French who threatened her coasts, numerous Spanish privateers set sail from all the ports of Spain, and cruising about with daring courage captured a number of English merchant ships in a very short time. We are assured that within three months of the issue of the letters of reprisal, eighteen English prizes had been brought into San Sebastian, and that before the year was over a list remitted from Madrid was published in Holland, which put the value of the prizes made at more than 23,000,000 reales [£234,000 or $1,170,000]. This only increased the anger and desire for vengeance of the English. Their efforts were principally directed against the Spanish possessions in the New World. Vernon’s squadron attacked and took Porto Bello, November 22nd, 1739. The news was received in England with universal jubilation, though it hardly called for such general rejoicing, the prize certainly not corresponding to the expenses of so large a fleet, all that Vernon seized at this place being three small ships and $3,000 in Spanish money.

The English now despatched a formidable fleet of twenty-one ships of the line and as many frigates with nine thousand men, to invade the West Indies, the chief object of their ambition.

This squadron was to join Vernon’s; and almost at the same time Commodore Anson set sail with another small squadron to cruise about the coast of Peru and Chile. Much time had passed since so large and well-equipped a fleet had set sail from Great Britain; the kingdom held the brightest hopes of it, the English thinking to cut off communication between Spain and the New World, and by depriving the former of the treasures of America to bring it to more humble and peaceable terms. But this nation, so apt to criticise the Spanish slowness, delayed their preparations for so long that the season passed, and the Spaniards had time to fortify their towns and prepare for defence. But the English attacked Cartagena, and succeeded in taking possession of several advanced forts at some distance from the town.

These trifling successes made Admiral Vernon so confident of victory, that he despatched letters to England announcing that he would shortly be master of the town. The news was received in London with extraordinary rejoicing; the English believed that they were near to overthrowing the Spanish empire in America, and in their enthusiasm they caused a medal to be struck, representing on one side Cartagena, and on the other a bust of Vernon, with an allegorical inscription to the illustrious avenger of national honour. These bright hopes speedily vanished; Vernon attempted an assault on the fort of San Lazaro, for which twelve hundred men were appointed, but nearly all fell victims to their ill-advised courage; the few who remained were cut down by a party of Spaniards who sallied out of the castle. This reverse increased the discord between Vernon and Wentworth, commander of the troops; the continual rains had caused an outbreak of a fatal disease which soon reduced the troops to half their number. They were compelled to abandon the enterprise, and withdrew to Jamaica, having destroyed all the forts they had taken.

Commodore Anson visited the coast of Chile, took possession of Payta, and spent three days in sacking and firing the town. He then directed his course to Panama in search of the rich vessels which carried the treasures of the Indies to Spain. He finally succeeded in giving chase to the Spanish galleon, Nuestra Señora de Covadonga, which he attacked and captured with all her treasures, valued at £313,000 [$1,565,000], the richest prize, says an English writer, ever brought into British ports, but also the only loss of any importance suffered by Spain in this war.

The English made other attempts on the coasts of the New World, but without success, either because of the intemperance of the climate and the discord among the generals, or because of the precautions and wise measures taken by the Spanish government. Admiral Vernon decided to attempt the conquest of Cuba; but after several fruitless attempts he soon saw that his forces were inadequate for the purpose. He was forced to withdraw, having lost eighteen hundred men. Thus we may count as destroyed the army and fleet which had left England, and raised the confident hopes of the English people of depriving Spain of her dominion in America. A few ships and a few weakened troops were all that remained on Vernon’s return to England. Such was the result of the naval war between England and Spain. An English contemporary writer calculates that at least twenty thousand men were sacrificed in this unfortunate expedition, and a foreign writer estimates the prizes taken by the Spaniards during the war at 407 English ships.[k]

With this temperate Spanish account English historians generally agree, Wm. Connor Sydney[m] calling the war “one of the greatest blots in the chronicles of the realm.” Spain’s new naval power had been largely due to the zeal of the minister José Patiño, who had, however, died in 1736, too soon to see the glory of the victory over England.[a]

THE WAR OF THE AUSTRIAN SUCCESSION (1740-1746 A.D.)

[1740-1746 A.D.]

The death of the emperor Charles VI, the famous competitor of Philip, without male issue, stimulated this monarch, as it did other sovereigns, to acts of spoliation. While Bavaria, Saxony, Prussia, and France each pursued its advantage, without regard to the succession which each had guaranteed with the deceased emperor, he looked toward Italy in search of an establishment for the infante Philip [or Felipe], his second son by the present queen. Hence all Europe was engaged in war. In 1741 an army was sent to Italy, a junction effected with the Neapolitans, and the combined forces marched into Lombardy. But several circumstances impeded the success of the Spanish arms. The king of Sardinia joined England and Austria; a superior force expelled Montemar, the Spanish general, from his position; a British squadron compelled the king of Naples to observe neutrality; and the troops of that power were consequently recalled. During the following years the war sometimes raged, but often languished, with various success. Don Philip headed the army in person; but was more than once compelled to retreat into the French territory; while at sea the superiority generally lay with the British over the combined fleets of France and Spain. At length the Neapolitan king broke his neutrality, and rejoined the Spaniards: this junction enabled Don Philip to resume the offensive. But after some desperate struggles,[102] the Spanish and French troops were expelled. In the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, in 1748, Spain was disposed to lay down her arms, by the cession of Parma, Guastalla, and Piacenza, to Don Philip.

Before the conclusion of this peace, in July, 1746, an attack of apoplexy hurried Philip V to the grave. His character is apparent enough from his actions: indeed, it requires no other illustration. Whatever might be his general weakness, his unconquerable indolence, his subjection to his queens, he had a sincere desire for the good of Spain; and in part that desire was fulfilled. Under his rule the country enjoyed more prosperity than it had experienced since the days of Philip II. Nor was he deficient in a taste for literature. He founded the royal library of Madrid, the royal Spanish academy, the academy of history, and the academy of San Fernando, for the encouragement of the fine arts. In private life he was a model for princes: he was almost spotless. His only fault, let us rather say his only misfortune, was his want of capacity for the station he occupied: he would have been an admirable private gentleman, or an exemplary ecclesiastic.

THE GOOD KING FERDINAND VI (1746-1759 A.D.)

Ferdinand VI, second son of the deceased monarch, by Maria Louisa of Savoy (the fate of the eldest, Luis, has been already related), was, on his succession, in his thirty-fourth year. Though he did not want natural affection for his step-brothers, he was not to be controlled by the queen-dowager, whose influence was forever at an end; nor would he sacrifice the best interests of his kingdom to provide Italian sovereignties for the infantes [his half-brothers]. Hence, he consented to procure peace for his dominions by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, as related. His disposition was averse to war, which, as he clearly saw, had obstructed the career of the national improvement; nor was he so blind as to be ignorant that the blood and treasures of his people had been wasted for French or Austrian rather than Spanish objects. He respected the king of France as the head of his house, but he asserted his resolution not to become the viceroy of that monarch. If to this we add that he was a prince of honour, of integrity, of strict veracity, we shall have said all that truth will permit in his praise.

He had the melancholy temperament, the incapacity, the indolence of his father; nor was he less uxorious. His queen, Maria Theresa Magdalena Barbara, daughter of João V, king of Portugal, to whom he had been united in 1729, was a woman of engaging manners and of mild disposition, but avaricious. The same blemish attached to one of the most influential ministers, the marquis of Ensenada,[103] a man of low origin, but of ready parts and of profuse expenditure.

But the strangest influence over the destiny of the kingdom was that exercised by a singer, the famous Farinelli, who by his profession had made a fortune in England, and had been attracted to the court of Madrid in the hope that his music would have some effect over the hypochondriac Philip.[l]

The Singer Farinelli

Carlo Broschi, surnamed Farinelli, was a Neapolitan, whose voice and skill had obtained him great musical renown, and enabled him to amass a handsome fortune upon the boards of the London opera-house. During one of Philip’s worst fits of hypochondria, Elizabeth Farnese invited Farinelli to Madrid, in order to try the effect of exquisite music upon her husband’s obstinate melancholy. The result answered to her utmost hopes. She arranged a concert in a room adjoining that where Philip had for months lain in bed, pertinaciously resisting every entreaty to attend either to the business of his kingdom or the cleanliness of his person. Farinelli’s vocal powers aroused him. He sent for the performer, and amidst a profusion of encomiums, promised to grant him whatever reward he should ask. Whereupon Farinelli, by the queen’s instructions, requested the king to rise from his bed, undergo the usual operations of shaving and dressing, and attend the council of state. Faithful to his word, Philip complied, and returned for a while to his ordinary habits of life. From that moment Farinelli was retained, with a handsome pension, at Philip’s court, and daily soothed the half insane monarch with his melodious warblings.

[1737-1759 A.D.]

Upon Ferdinand’s accession this favour rose to unexampled height. Farinelli, besides being appointed director of the opera, and, in fact, superintendent of all the royal pleasures, was honoured with the cross of Calatrava.

Farinelli seems never to have forgotten himself in this singular exaltation. He rejected all bribes, laughed at the adulation of his superiors, and long answered to those who besought his interference, “I am a musician, not a politician.” In spite of his modesty, however, he at length became a political agent, having discovered that his intervention was, upon many occasions, agreeable and convenient to Barbara. The influence he was thence forward led to exert acted in two opposite directions from the honest feelings of his heart, as did Barbara’s from the dictates of her policy: his warm attachment to the empress-queen, whose subject he was born, and to England, where he had acquired his wealth, rendering him a zealous advocate of their interests, whilst friendship for Ensenada induced him, if not to assist in forwarding all that minister’s plans, yet to make the utmost exertions to support him in his place.[n] By what strange instruments are mankind governed![104]

The reign of Ferdinand exhibits little more than a contest between the British and French agents, in support of the respective policy of their nations: Carvajal took part with the former, Ensenada with the latter. In 1754, Carvajal’s death dejected the English as much as it elated the hopes of the French. Soon afterwards, Ensenada himself was disgraced. Ferdinand continued to observe a wise and dignified neutrality in the European war, occasioned by the rivalry of France and England. Not even the offer of Minorca, which the French conquered from the English, nor that of assisting in the reduction of Gibraltar, could incline the court in favour of the Gallic policy. Equally fruitless was the offer of Gibraltar by the English themselves, as the condition of joining the confederacy against France. But so mild, and just, and virtuous a prince was not long spared to Spain and to Europe. After the death of his queen, in 1758, he would never attend to either affairs of state or the ordinary enjoyments of life: in twelve months he followed her to the tomb. As he died without issue, he left the crown to his next brother, Don Charles, king of the Two Sicilies.

Indolent as were the habits of Ferdinand, he was a blessing to Spain, not merely from his pacific reign, but from his encouragement of agriculture, commerce, and the arts.[105] But the greatest benefit he procured for his country was the abolition of the grievous abuse of papal patronage. By it the chair of St. Peter had nominated to all benefices which fell vacant during eight months out of the twelve—thence called apostolical—and in any month, provided the possessor died in Rome. This monstrous usurpation was independent of expectations, indults, annats, fifteenths, and the other endless sources of papal rapacity. In 1753, the king procured from the pope a concordat, by which the right of nomination, during every month, was reserved to the crown; and the tributes contracted to be paid by the holder of the benefice to the see of Rome, in return for his nomination to it, were suppressed.

CHARLES III (1759-1788 A.D.)

[1759-1762 A.D.]

By the Treaty of Vienna the two crowns of Naples and Spain were never to be placed on the same head: hence Charles III, on his accession to the latter, was compelled to resign the other in favour of a son. As the eldest, Philip, was a constant prey to mental imbecility, the second, Charles, succeeded to the rights of primogeniture, and was declared heir to the Spanish monarchy; while the third, Ferdinand, was hailed as king of the Two Sicilies. Having appointed a council of regency during the minority of Ferdinand, Charles bade adieu to his former subjects, whom his administration had strongly attached to his person, and proceeded to Madrid. In the ministry he made few changes. He retained General Wall, but suffered Ensenada to return to court; he dismissed the minister of finance, whom he replaced by the marquis Squillaci [called Esquilache by the Spaniards], an Italian nobleman of considerable experience in that department; and he advised Farinelli to quit the kingdom.

When Charles ascended the throne, he found France and Great Britain involved in a war which, under the vigorous administration of Pitt, was highly disastrous to the arms of Louis. The success of the English displeased him; he feared lest the victors should turn their arms against his richest settlements in the New World. France was eager to make common cause with him. The result was an intimate alliance, known by the name of the Family Compact, by which the enemy of either was to be considered the enemy of both, and neither was to make peace without the consent of the other. However secret the articles, they were suspected by Pitt, who would have anticipated Spain by an immediate declaration of war, and by breaking off the hollow negotiations which, to gain time, France had commenced, had he not been replaced at this juncture by a court favourite, the earl of Bute. The new ministry were made the dupes of the Bourbon courts; the negotiations were artfully prolonged until the arrival of the Spanish treasures from the Indies, and until preparations were made by both countries to carry on the war with vigour.

[1762-1781 A.D.]

The mask was then dropped, and hostilities were invited. However unstable the English ministry, under a sovereign more feeble even than his predecessors, a vigour had been given by Pitt to every branch of the public service, which in the present war secured the triumph of English arms. In the West Indies, the Havana, in the east, Manila, were taken (1762); nor were the allied French and Spanish arms successful in Portugal, which, in punishment of its connection with England, was invaded by twenty-two thousand men, under the marquis of Soria. They could only take Almeida before they were compelled to retire within the Spanish territory. Worse than all other disasters was the state of the finances, which were, in fact, exhausted; while the interruption to trade, occasioned by the present hostilities, rendered it impossible for any minister to rely on new contributions. In this emergency, the two courts turned their eyes towards peace, which was concluded at Paris, February 10th, 1763. Omitting the concessions made by France, Spain purchased the restoration of the conquests which had been made, by the cession of Florida, by the permission to cut logwood in the bay of Honduras, and by a renunciation of all claim to the Newfoundland fisheries.

These unfavourable conditions were not likely to remove, however it might be prudent to smother, the irritation of the Spaniards. But such, at length, were the improvements effected in the collection of the revenues, and in the national forces by sea and land; such the results of a wise economy and a better discipline, under the superintendence of the count of Aranda, a man of enterprising genius, that these forces were considerably augmented, and taught to confide in their own strength. The British ambassadors at Madrid were no longer treated with even outward respect. That Spain was inclined to war is evident from the whole conduct of its ministers; but the desire was counteracted by the internal embarrassments of France. Thus affairs continued, until the count of Aranda being succeeded by the marquis of Grimaldi, and the latter, in his turn, by the count of Florida-Blanca, England received another blow through her ally Portugal. Portugal, the queen-dowager of which was the sister of Charles, joined the Family Compact.

The progress of the misunderstanding between England and her American colonies (1776-1783) afforded an opening for humbling her power. By entering into an alliance with the rebels, and by an open war with Britain, France at once indulged her hereditary enmity, and secured a friend in the rising states. With a policy as blind as it was vindictive, Florida-Blanca persuaded Charles to concur with France in behalf of the revolted colonies. Charles declared war, procured the co-operation of a French fleet, and caused Gibraltar to be closely invested. The situation of England, at this time, was exceedingly critical. By all Europe her ruin was considered at hand. Without an ally; opposed not only to her colonies, but to France and Spain, which were favoured by the secret wishes of Portugal, Morocco, Holland, Russia, and Austria; a prey to intestine commotions; cursed by an imbecile and extravagant court, and by a ministry no less despicable, her prospects were indeed hopeless. But the native vigour of her defenders, though it could not avert disasters unexampled in her history, and was in most instances lamentably misdirected, at least averted impending ruin. Gibraltar, though garrisoned with no more than a handful of men, exhibited a defence which astonished all Europe; and, though the coasts of England were frequently insulted by the appearance of a hostile flag, no descent followed. These fleets were not long suffered to exhibit even these ineffectual bravadoes. Having retired to the peninsular ports, one of them was defeated by Admiral Rodney, who about the same time had the good fortune to capture a convoy of fifteen sail. But the capture of a British merchant fleet by the enemy; the loss of some settlements in the West Indies and on the banks of the Mississippi, and the conquest of West Florida by Galvez, an enterprising Spanish officer, more than counterbalanced this advantage.

These disasters would have been much greater, had not the English cabinet contrived to spread division between the two allied powers. The offer of Gibraltar—an offer made with anything but sincerity—more than once arrested the hostile march of Spain, and led to secret negotiations. Florida-Blanca had, however, the good fortune to propose the famous armed neutrality, by which the maritime power of Europe endeavoured to annihilate the naval superiority of Britain; and he had the still greater glory of recovering Minorca [February, 1782, after seventy-four years of English possession]. Elated by this success the Bourbon ministers despatched a formidable fleet to expel the English from the West Indies, whilst their allies the Dutch, in concert with Hyder (Haidar) Ali, strove to drive the same enemy from the Carnatic. But the French admiral De Grasse sustained so signal a defeat that the enterprise, as far as regarded the West Indies, was abandoned. To England, however, the war was fatal: the American colonies obtained their independence. Humbled and discouraged, the ministry now made propositions for peace; and negotiations for the purpose were opened at Paris. It was at length concluded (1783) on terms sufficiently humiliating to the British nation. She surrendered the two Floridas, Minorca, Tobago, and Gorée on the African coast, consented to be excluded from the greater part of the Gulf of Mexico, and to admit the French to a participation of the Newfoundland fisheries: while, in return for such concessions, she could not obtain the slightest advantage for regulating her trade either with the peninsula or the American colonies.

Advantageous as were the conditions of peace, Charles, when his resentment towards England was cooled, could not fail to perceive the impolicy of the recent war. He had assisted to establish a republic on the confines of his Mexican empire, and he knew that his own colonies had caught the same fire of independence. In fact, he had soon the mortification to see extensive districts in South America in open insurrection.

The remaining foreign transactions of Charles may be shortly dismissed. His treaty with the sultan of Constantinople and with the Barbary states freed his subjects from piratical depredations, and procured them commercial advantages in the Mediterranean superior to those enjoyed by any other European power. In Portugal, where his influence was confirmed by the marriage of his daughter Carlotta with the infante João, afterwards João IV, he procured from the French a share in the commercial advantages which had been hitherto exclusively enjoyed by the English. In an equal degree was the English influence impaired in Holland by the ascendency of the Bourbon courts. He wrested from the ministry most of the commercial privileges which during two centuries had been possessed by the British in the West Indies. But as he grew in years he became less favourably disposed towards France, and more willing to cultivate a good understanding with England.

[1759-1783 A.D.]

The internal administration of Charles was not less signal than his foreign policy. It exhibits many novelties; of which some were highly beneficial, while others were odious to the people. So long as the efforts of his ministers were confined to the improvement of commerce and agriculture, to cleansing and lighting the streets, to the construction and repairs of the roads, to the reorganisation of the police, and to the amplification of the public revenues, they were cheered by the popular approbation; but when flapped hats and long cloaks—those screeners of assassination—were prohibited, a loud outcry was raised against the introduction of foreign customs. A monopoly for the supply of oil and bread to the people of Madrid bore on the lower orders much more sensibly than a change of costume, and called forth loud imprecations against the marquis Squillaci, the author of this impolitic innovation. On the evening of Palm Sunday (1766) the mob arose. They spread throughout the city, breaking the lamps, assassinating the soldiers, and forcing every man they saw to lower the brim of his hat. The following morning the king communicated with them; promised that the obnoxious minister should be replaced by a Spaniard; that the decree against flapped hats and cloaks should be repealed; that the price of oil, bread, soap, and bacon should be reduced, the monopoly destroyed, and the insurgents pardoned.

The following morning, however, hearing that the royal family and the ministers had fled to Aranjuez, they assembled in greater numbers than before. During forty-eight hours the city was a prey to this lawless mob. Charles wrote to the Council of Castile that the obnoxious minister was already exiled, and that, if the people would quietly disperse, his other promises should be executed with equal fidelity. The message, being proclaimed throughout the city, was received with shouts of applause; the rioters instantly surrendered their arms and drums, shook hands with the soldiers, and departed to their homes.

That this commotion was a political intrigue was no less the conviction of the king than of his ministers; and his suspicions fell on the Jesuits.[l]

EXPULSION OF THE JESUITS

[1759-1767 A.D.]

It is unnecessary to trace here the rise and progress of this celebrated order whose position in history has been such a peculiar one. It will be sufficient to observe that their spirit of intrigue, dangerous maxims, bond of union, and persevering ambition had long rendered them an object of fear and jealousy to many of the European governments; and there was scarcely a political intrigue, or public commotion, in which they were not actually implicated, or supposed to be engaged. Such, however, was their extensive influence, from the number and talents of their members, and the authority which they exercised over the public mind, by monopolising, in a great degree, the duties of education; such also was their influence in the cabinets of Catholic princes, as directors of their consciences, and such the wealth and power they had appropriated, that till the middle of the eighteenth century no statesman had been found bold enough to smite this spiritual colossus. The first blow was struck in the petty kingdom of Portugal, by the marquis of Pombal, the minister of a weak and superstitious monarch, whose court and household were filled by their members and adherents.

From a suspicion, well or ill founded, that they were implicated in the memorable attempt to assassinate the king, they were in a single day involved in one common disgrace, their property confiscated, their members transported as prisoners to the coast of Italy and set ashore in the states of the church. Their expulsion from Portugal (1759) dissipated the terror inspired by their name and power, and prepared the way for their expulsion from France, which took place in 1764, with circumstances of more humanity and moderation than in Portugal.

It now became the leading principle of the French minister to complete their downfall in other countries, and particularly to obtain their expulsion from Spain. For this purpose, Choiseul employed all the resources of intrigue to excite alarm at their character and principles, and implicate them in every offence which was likely to throw disgrace on their body. He did not scruple even to circulate forged letters, in the name of their general and chiefs, and to propagate reports of the most odious and criminal nature against the members themselves individually. These artifices and this anxiety will not appear superfluous, when it is considered that Spain was the country which gave rise to the institution, and fostered it with peculiar affection; that the king, a devout prince, had shown himself its friend and protector. The final cause which led to their expulsion was the success of the means employed to persuade the king that their intrigues had caused the recent tumult at Madrid, and that they were still forming new machinations against his own person and the royal family. Influenced by this opinion, Charles, from their zealous protector, became at once their implacable enemy, and hastened to follow the example of the French government (1767).

[1767-1783 A.D.]

He confided the execution to Count de Aranda, who had so ably suppressed the commotions at Madrid. The king himself wrote, and directed with his own hand, circular letters to the governors of each province, which they were to open at a particular hour and in a particular place. When the period arrived, the six colleges of the Jesuits at Madrid were surrounded at midnight with troops, headed by officers of the police, and admission being obtained, the bells were secured, and a sentinel placed at the door of each cell. The rector was commanded to assemble the community; and the different members being collected in the refectory, the royal decree of expulsion was formally read. Each member was then permitted to take his breviary, linen, chocolate, snuff, a few other conveniences, and his money, on specifying the amount in writing. They were distributed in different vehicles, each carriage under the escort of two dragoons, to prevent any communication, and were thus conveyed to the coast. So complete were the precautions, and so prompt and regular was the execution, that the inhabitants of the capital were ignorant of the event till the following morning, when the cavalcade was already on its journey.

In the same manner each college, in the different parts of Spain, was invested. The transports, under the convoy of several frigates, steered for the ecclesiastical state, and appeared off Cività Vecchia, where the different officers had orders to land their unfortunate charge. But the pope forbade their admission, under the pretext that, if the Catholic sovereigns of Europe should abolish the religious societies, the papal dominions would be too small, and the treasure too poor to maintain them. During these delays, the Jesuits were crowded like convicts on board the transports, in the most sultry season of a sultry climate; and of the old and infirm, or those who had suffered from their sedentary life, numbers perished within sight of land. At length, after beating about the Mediterranean, exposed to storms and tempests for three months, they were received on the isle of Corsica; those who had the misfortune to survive preceding hardships were deposited in warehouses like bales of goods, without beds, and almost without the common necessaries of life. They remained in this deplorable situation, till their destiny was fixed by a compromise with the pope, when they were permitted to repair to Italy, and receive the scanty pittance allotted for their maintenance by the king of Spain. In the distant and extensive colonies of South America, similar precautions were adopted.

On considering this transaction with impartiality, it is impossible to deny that, however necessary the expulsion of the Jesuits might be deemed, yet the execution itself was one of the most arbitrary and cruel measures ever held out to the indignation of mankind. No other reason was alleged for these rigorous measures than the absolute good pleasure of the king. In this state of proscription they were not only prohibited from justifying their conduct, but it was ordained that if one single Jesuit should send forth the slightest apology in their favour, the pensions of all should instantly cease, and that all subjects of Spain who should presume to publish any writing, either for or against them, should be punished as if guilty of high treason: circumstances which can scarcely be credited in a free nation, if the truth were not still attested by the edict for their expulsion. The only apology which can be advanced in favour of such a cruel measure is that, the whole body being closely linked together in absolute obedience to their general, no one member could presume to publish anything without the approbation of his superior; and such was their mighty influence over the consciences of persons of all ranks and descriptions that, if any had been permitted to continue in Spain, or to return thither while the ferment subsisted, they might have excited dangerous tumults among the people.

Charles notified this important measure to the head of the church in firm but respectful terms. It was not to be expected that the pope would acquiesce in so sudden and unqualified an expulsion of the most zealous partisans of the holy see, and still less so bold and irritable a pontiff as Clement XIII. The reply of the king announced respect and affection for the head of the church, but unshaken firmness in his resolution. The example of Spain was speedily followed by the king of Naples. The Jesuits were expelled with the same precautions as in Spain, and conveyed without ceremony across the frontier into the ecclesiastical state. When a petty sovereign like the duke of Parma ventured to expel the Jesuits from his states, and establish various regulations to restrain the papal authority, Clement deemed it a proper opportunity to exercise his spiritual power, without the danger of a repulse. He therefore issued a brief against the duke, threatening his territories with interdict, and his person with excommunication, unless he revoked his ordinances against the privileges and rights of the church.

The princes of the house of Bourbon, watchful for an opportunity to abridge the pretensions of the Roman see, accordingly opposed this exertion of papal authority with the most vigorous measures. France occupied Avignon and the Venaissin, and Naples seized Benevento; and all the Catholic powers united in a common censure of the papal brief as illegal and vindictive. But while the dispute was yet in suspense, the decease of the aged pontiff opened a field for the struggle of the civil against the ecclesiastical power. No intrigue was spared by the Catholic powers to baffle the influence of the Jesuits, and obtain the election of a person who would enter into their views; and they at length procured the choice of Ganganelli, a monk of the order of Minor Conventuals. He ultimately yielded to the incessant and pressing solicitations of all the Catholic powers; and on the 21st of July, 1773, abolished the order of Jesus by a bull, in which he ascribes his consent to respect for the representations of the king of Spain, who insisted on this measure as necessary for the tranquillity of Christendom and the peace of his own dominions.

Charles, satisfied with having annihilated the power of the Jesuits, secured the tranquillity of his dominions, and eradicated their influence as a body, reverted to his natural mildness, and by a royal rescript permitted the members who yet survived to return to Spain, and obtain possession of lands which had fallen to them by inheritance (1783).[c]

[1783-1788 A.D.]

It is almost needless to add that, in the present, as in the case of the Templars, and at a later period in that of the suppressed monasteries in England, a very small portion of the possessions so unjustly confiscated was applied to any useful purpose; in Spain, as in England, it found its way into the pockets of a needy sovereign, of courtly minions, or of unprincipled adventurers.

In most respects, the internal administration of Charles was one of unmixed good. The increase of the standing army, a force absolutely necessary, not merely for the national defence, but for the preservation of domestic tranquillity; its improved discipline; a judicious organisation of the police; the restriction of ecclesiastical immunities in such cases as were incompatible with the well-being of the people; the circumscription of the powers of the Inquisition; an attempt to colonise the Sierra Morena; the establishment of schools to supply the void left by the expulsion of the Jesuits, signalised the administration of the count of Aranda. The same reforms were extended or improved by the count of Florida-Blanca, who added others of even superior importance. The encouragement of agriculture, commerce, and the useful arts of life; a radical change in the intercourse of Spain with her colonies; a considerable augmentation in the returns of the mines, in the customs, in every branch of the revenue; the introduction of new manufactures, and the encouragement of such as were already established; the facilitation of intercourse, by means of new roads and canals, between the great marts of Spain; and numerous reforms in the forms of judicial process, and in the responsibility of the judges, were a few of the many benefits conferred by this great minister on his country.

Charles III died, December 14th, 1788, at the age of seventy-three. From the vigour of his constitution he would, doubtless, have lived longer, had not his heart been affected by the precarious state of his relations in France, by the loss of his son Don Gabriel, of his daughter-in-law Doña Maria of Portugal, and of their infant. He was a prince of considerable talents, of excellent intentions, and of blameless morals. In his public character, his best praise is to be found in the fact that, through his ministers, he introduced a degree of prosperity to which his people had been strangers since the days of Philip II. In private life he was unlike most kings. During a long widowhood, his example afforded no encouragement to licentiousness: as he was severe towards himself, he was naturally so toward others. His chief defects were obstinacy, too great reserve, even with his ministers, and an immoderate addiction to the exercise of hunting. By his queen Amelia, a princess of Saxony, he left issue (1) Philip Pascal, excluded through natural imbecility; (2) Charles his successor, imprisoned and forced to abdicate by Bonaparte; (3) Ferdinand, king of the Two Sicilies. Four other sons preceded him to the tomb.[l]

Hume[h] calls Charles III “the only good, great, and patriotic king that providence had vouchsafed to Spain in modern times.” Coxe[c] tells of his placid temper, and his lovableness; “those who attended on his infancy grew gray, or died in his service.” The anecdote is told of him that on his death-bed his confessor asked if he could pardon his enemies, and he answered; “Why should I have waited till this extremity? They were all forgiven the moment after the offence”—a spirit rare indeed in Spanish history.[a]

FOOTNOTES

[97] [“Henceforward for years, during the most troublous crisis of Spain’s fall, she did more for the country and for the young king and queen than all the ministers together. Manners and morals were reformed, light and brightness penetrated where gloom and ignorance alone had existed before. A Frenchwoman sent specially to serve French interests, she stood firm in defence of Philip and his wife, and of Spanish traditions, when everything depended on her prudence.”—Hume.[d]]

[98] [“Here they committed the most enormous sacrileges, adding the rage of enemies to that of heretics,” says San Felipe.[b]]

[99] [“After thirteen years of struggle, the most obstinate and deadly in the modern history of Europe, Catalonia was brought back to the fold, shorn of all her privileges and assimilated to the contemned Castile.”—Hume.[h]]

[100] [“And so at last, after years of constant plotting and secret treaties innumerable, Elizabeth Farnese had triumphed in the great object of her life: all Europe accepted the sovereignty of her son over the Italian dominions of her forefathers. She had kept Europe in effervescence for years, but she had her way; and the persistence of one woman had re-established Spanish influence in Italy and raised Spain once more to a leading place in the councils of the world.”—Hume.[h]]

[101] [The importance of this “right of search” will recur in connection with the War of 1812 between England and the United States. The war hereafter described is sometimes called “The War of Jenkins’ Ear.”]

[102] [“At Piacenza the Franco-Spanish army was literally cut to bits by Lichtenstein (July 16th, 1746), and the ambitious dreams of Elizabeth Farnese seemed to melt into thin air.”—Hume.[h] Fuller details of this war will be found in the French, Austrian, and English histories.]

[103] [En se nada, that is, “in himself nothing,” referring to his humble origin.]

[104] [Was it not time, after the disastrous influences of cardinals, monks, warriors, merchants, and noblemen had been tormenting Spain for centuries, that a musician should be tried? Are not the eminently beneficial results of the singer’s influence over the benevolent king his justification?]

[105] [Martin Hume[d] calls Ferdinand VI “the most truly beneficent sovereign that Spain had known for centuries. The encouragement extended to learning and intellectual progress was even more marked than that given by his father. Academies and learned societies sprang up everywhere;” and again,[h] “Ferdinand had found Spain struggling painfully to the light, still ruined, bankrupt, and miserable. He left it enjoying comparative prosperity, with a fleet of fifty ships of war and £3,000,000 ($15,000,000) in the treasury.”]