* * * * *
The little manuscript which my friend placed in my hand, had been found in the château after the departure of the young princes of Spain from Valençay. It was written in a fair hand, and bore the following title:
“The Secret History of the Intrigues, which ended in the Seizure and Imprisonment of Ferdinand VII. and his Brothers at Valençay.”
The cahier was found in the library, and as there was but ONE person of the whole suite who ever went thither, it is well known by whom it was written, a gentleman of truth and honour, at the very moment I am now writing this, holding a high situation about the person of the Queen of Spain, Isabella. The manuscript began as follows:
“In the month of March, 1807, the Prince of Asturias, who was in active and secret correspondence with Don Juan d’Escoïquiz, Archdeacon and Canon of Toledo, his former preceptor, sent to him at Toledo, where he then resided, a person in his confidence, named Jose Marrique. The prince forwarded by this person a letter to be delivered into M. d’Escoïquiz’s own hand, wherein he spoke of his suspicions concerning the ambitious views of the Prince of the Peace, who, in consequence of obtaining daily, either from the king or queen, some new dignity or favour, became, more and more powerful, particularly in possessing, as he did, the command of the army, the navy, and the militia. Already the rumour had arisen that Charles IV., whose health was declining fast, had appointed him Regent of the Kingdom. Once regent, the death of the king would open a new career to his ambition. The character of the Prince of the Peace, and his proximity to the throne, tended to excite alarm in the friends of the royal family.
“M. d’Escoïquiz, in dismay at the contents of the prince’s letter, flattered himself that it would be easy to undeceive the king and queen with regard to the real character of the Prince of the Peace. He immediately penned a letter, which was to be delivered by the Prince of Asturias into the hands of the queen, in which he displayed, with great eloquence, all the danger in which the royal family stood, by the blind confidence the king reposed in the Prince of the Peace. This letter, full of reason and of truth, so much alarmed the Prince of Asturias, that he could never find courage to present it to his mother, and he merely copied it in his own hand. Somewhat ashamed of his own want of resolution, he wrote to M. d’Escoïquiz, that he judged it impossible ever to enlighten the queen, and that he thought it would be easier to persuade the king to reason, if he could get an opportunity of speaking with him tête-à-tête.
“The worthy Canon of Toledo immediately set about inditing another letter, which he endeavoured to adapt to the weak understanding of the king, and sent it to the prince, who waited in vain for an opportunity of giving it in private to his father. This document was copied, like the former one, by the prince himself, and likewise locked up in his desk, where they were both found on the seizure of his papers some time afterwards.
“The Prince of the Peace, who suspected that the reserve and taciturn habits of the Prince of Asturias served to conceal hostile intentions towards himself, sought every means of undermining the fidelity of the young prince’s household, and made a proposition through the queen to many him to Donna Maria Theresa, his sister-in-law, second daughter of the Infant Don Luiz. This princess was remarkable for her great beauty and ambition, and had already exhibited an inclination for gallantry. The prince, who knew but little of her beyond her personal attractions, had already given his consent to this union, when suddenly, the ambition of the Prince of the Peace had become more insatiable than ever, and the marriage was broken off.
“M. d’Escoïquiz, on perceiving that every means of gaining access to the king and queen had failed, and that the marriage with Donna Maria had failed also, began to imagine that the only hope of support for the Prince of Asturias would lie in his marriage with a princess of the family of Bonaparte. M. d’Escoïquiz grew, in fact, quite enraptured with the scheme, which he himself had planned, and, wishing to preside over its execution, he left his quiet retreat at Toledo, and came to reside at Madrid. There he became acquainted with Count Orquez, a gentleman much attached to the Prince of Asturias, and communicated to him his alarms and his future plans. In one of their secret conversations, M. de Orquez informed him that Don Diego Godoï, the father of the Prince of the Peace, was distributing money among the garrison of Madrid, and had thus corrupted a great number of the officers. A colonel of dragoons, Don Joaquin Jauregui, gave them intelligence of all that transpired, and informed them that to every officer of distinction, Godoï had said, ‘You see the miserable state into which the kingdom has fallen—the Bourbon dynasty is degenerated—the king cannot live much longer—the prince is a weak, capricious fool. Some change is necessary—we reckon on your aid.’ Throughout the whole of Madrid, the secret agents of Godoï were at work night and day. The Abbé Stata, librarian of St. Isidore, had been imprudent enough to spread inflammatory writings, the object of which was to prove to the Spanish nation, that in the existing crisis, the only hope of salvation lay in an entire confidence in the judgment and experience of the Prince of the Peace.
“In this state of affairs, M. d’Escoïquiz was aware that not a moment was to be lost, and that all true friends of the throne must at once league together for its defence. His first step was to obtain from the Prince of Asturias a kind of letter of credit, which authorized him to speak confidentially with the Duke del’ Infantado, a young man of exalted birth, of great integrity, and chivalrous courage, holding a high place in public esteem. Armed with this letter, written in the prince’s own hand, he appointed a meeting with the duke, and together they swore fidelity to the throne, vowing respect even to the absurd blindness of the king, and merely concerting the measures to be taken in the house, when the king, whose health was declining daily, should breathe his last, at which moment it would be the easiest thing in the world for the Prince of the Peace to conceal the death of the sovereign as long as it should please him so to do. The hatred and suspicion which he had so craftily engendered in the bosom of the queen against her son, had compelled her to fill the palace with troops, all devoted to herself and to Godoï. It was his design when, by the rules of etiquette established at the Spanish court, the exact moment arrived for the heir to the throne to appear at the bedside of the dying king, to have the young prince arrested, and to make him sign by force the necessary decree, which would place the whole power in the hands of the favourite. The Duke del’ Infantado and M. d’Escoïquiz judged then, that the only means to guard against this outrage, would be to provide themselves with a decree, signed and sealed by the new king, by which the whole power, civil and military, would be placed in the hands of the Duke del’ Infantado, placing also beneath his command the Prince of the Peace himself.
“Empowered by this decree, the Duke del’ Infantado, on the first signification of the approaching death of the king, was to declare his power, take possession of all the military forces, and to appear in the city and in the royal palaces, habited in the costume of Generalissimo of the Kingdom, with full intentions to arrest immediately the Prince of the Peace, if the conduct of the latter gave any cause for umbrage. M. d’Escoïquiz drew up this decree, and had it conveyed to the prince, with the necessary instructions, begging him to copy it with his own hand, and to fix his own seal upon the paper. The prince complied with the whole of those directions, and the letter was placed at once in the hands of the Duke del’ Infantado, who was to preserve it carefully until the moment arrived when it would be required. The act was complete, signed according to Spanish usage, ‘Yo el Re,’ and a vacant space left for the date, which was to be filled up by the Duke del’ Infantado at the moment of the King’s death.
“About the middle of the month of June, M. d’Escoïquiz received another letter from the Prince of Asturias; in it was announced that, through the medium of Don Juan Emanuel de Villena, his first equerry, he had received an important billet, signed by Don Pedro Giraldo, tutor to the Infant Don Francisco, and that this billet was written by an individual belonging to the French Legation. It contained the announcement of a most important and secret communication, which it was the wish of the French ambassador, M. de Beauharnais, to make to the prince. M. d’Escoïquiz, whom the latter had consulted with regard to the line of conduct which he ought to adopt, was of opinion that the prince’s reply should be peremptory—that ‘he meddled not with public affairs, nor held interviews with public men.’ Meanwhile, he undertook to discover if the message really came from the French ambassador, or was merely a trap laid by Godoï to condemn the young prince. This tried and valued friend, never at a loss, had soon invented a pretext to call upon the ambassador, to whom he was unknown. He requested permission to present to M. l’Ambassadeur the first volume of an epic poem, to be entitled ‘The Conquest of Mexico.’
“The ambassador, without appearing surprised at the sudden literary reputation usurped by M. d’Escoïquiz, answered with courtesy that he would receive with pleasure the book and its author. After a few observations relating to ‘the Conquest of Mexico,’ some few remarks on the state of affairs bringing each of them nearer to the object they both had in view, M. d’Escoïquiz frankly questioned the ambassador on the subject of the billet which had been delivered to the Prince of Asturias, and begged him, as a point of honour, to tell him the truth concerning it.
“The ambassador feigned a certain embarrassment, denied being the author of the billet, yet wished it to be understood that in reality he was; said that a message from an ambassador to the heir-apparent would scarcely have been admissible, but declared he felt much esteem for his royal highness, and that he would be greatly pleased by the permission to pay his court, en particulier, to the young prince. By all this specious reasoning M. d’Escoïquiz judged of the truth, and at once told him, without further disguise, that the prince firmly believed that the message came from him.
“‘Then why have you not brought me a written message in return?’ said M. de Beauharnais, involuntarily betraying himself; whereupon M. d’Escoïquiz, laughing, replied, ‘That written messages could be denied, therefore a preconcerted signal would, in his opinion, be more efficacious;’ and, before the conclusion of the interview, it was agreed that, as the court was in a few days to return to Madrid, the ambassador would present himself, as usual, at the head of the corps diplomatique at the reception of his royal highness, and that the prince would ask him ‘if he had ever been at Naples?’ and that, on turning as he would leave him, to pass to another ambassador, he would take his handkerchief from his pocket and wave it as he passed.
“On the 1st of July, the ambassadors were received by his royal highness, who supported M. d’Escoïquiz by giving the preconcerted signal. Two days after this, M. d’Escoïquiz had another interview with M. de Beauharnais, who bade him rely on the sentiments of affection which Napoleon had ever felt towards the Prince of Asturias, and his readiness to maintain his cause against the Prince of the Peace. It was then that M. d’Escoïquiz thought it proper to bring forward the question concerning the marriage, and even went so far as to leave to Napoleon the choice of the princess of his own family whom he would prefer to place upon the throne of Spain. The utmost secrecy was sworn to on both sides, M. de Beauharnais promising to write immediately to Paris, in order that proper measures might be taken with regard to the king, so as to prevent any imputation of intrigue being laid to the charge of his son.
“In consequence of the surveillance which was exercised by Godoï over every movement of the French ambassador, it was agreed that M. de Beauharnais and M. d’Escoïquiz were to meet for the first interview in a secluded spot of the gardens of the Retiro. It was about twenty days afterwards that M. d’Escoïquiz received an intimation that he would be expected during the hour of siesta, when they would have little fear of surprise, at the place which had been appointed. Here M. d’Escoïquiz learnt, with the greatest astonishment, that the answer which the ambassador had received from Napoleon was perfectly puerile and insignificant, never even alluding to the marriage; and M. de Beauharnais, attributing this silence to the absence of any written communication on the part of the young prince, advised M. d’Escoïquiz to persuade him to write directly to Napoleon. (Was this a snare?) It is certain that M. de Beauharnais must have received some positive instructions, which he did not choose to reveal until the prince had further committed himself, and he suffered M. d’Escoïquiz to return to Toledo in disgust.
“It was on the 30th September, 1807, that M. d’Escoïquiz received a letter from the ambassador, in which were quoted, as an extract from a private communication of Napoleon’s, the following words, each underlined: ‘I beg not, neither do I sell—I act not without security. Have you received any official communication touching this affair?’ The forms of political quackery employed in this letter induced M. d’Escoïquiz once more to return to Madrid; again did he meet the ambassador at the Retiro; again did M. de Beauharnais endeavour to persuade M. d’Escoïquiz to prevail upon the prince to write directly to Napoleon; and the good canon, having the welfare of the prince at heart, yielded at last, and promised that such a letter should be written.
“Now, the Prince of the Peace was all this time perfectly aware of everything that was passing in the house of the ambassador, through the medium of the spies with whom the latter was surrounded, and he caused the king immediately to write, himself, to Napoleon, which epistle was instantly despatched to the Spanish ambassador in Paris, the Prince de Masserano, with orders to convey it, the very moment of its arrival, to the emperor, in whatever place he might chance to be. It was natural enough that, with the dilatory character of the Prince of Asturias, his father’s letter should arrive long before his own. It reached the emperor at Fontainebleau, and excited much astonishment and indignation. It was full of bitter reproach against Napoleon for having encouraged a secret correspondence with the young heir to the Spanish throne, telling him beforehand of the despatch he was about to receive from the prince, and of all that the letter would contain.
“That letter was full of protestations of devotion to Napoleon, and of admiration of his brilliant qualities, of the before-mentioned proposal of marriage, and of supplications to the emperor to aid in rescuing the country from the hands of the Prince of the Peace. It was upon the strength of this letter that the Prince of the Peace, gained over by Napoleon, persuaded the old king to allow of the entry of French troops, ostensibly to compel Portugal to separate her cause from that of England—it being understood that it was merely as a passage to that country that these troops were allowed to cross the line.
“On the 27th of October, at ten o’clock at night, the Prince of Asturias was arrested in the Palace of the Escurial, under the accusation of having conspired to rob his father of the throne, and of having sought to assassinate him. The act of arrest went on to say, that these particulars had come to the knowledge of the king through an unknown channel, and that he would be tried for the crime of high treason. M. d’Escoïquiz and the Duke del’ Infantado were arraigned as accomplices. They were confined in the dungeons of the Escurial, deprived of all communication with each other, or with the world without, and two sentinels were stationed at the door of each cell.
“During the process of the prince, the number of French troops had increased to more than double. It was observed that they had taken up positions entirely contrary to the direction they had professed to follow, and that they were each day drawing nearer to Madrid, and the people, in every country more clear-sighted than its rulers, began to feel alarm at the intrusion. It was necessary to give some diplomatic explanations concerning these singular marches, but these were so ill received, that the Prince of the Peace was compelled to order back the Spanish regiments already on their road to Portugal. The ambassador feigned total ignorance, and, after the lapse of a few days, received instructions to say that, by commanding the retrograde movement, the Prince of the Peace must be prepared to allow of an increase of French forces. In the fear of a counter-order, these latter troops, by forced marches, soon took possession of the whole frontier of Catalonia, Navarre, and Guipuscoa. The court wishing to appear free from anxiety, negotiations went on as usual between the two governments. Meanwhile, the country was invaded, and the Prince of the Peace began to lose somewhat of his overweening confidence in the disinterested friendship of Napoleon, but, like all weak-minded persons, thought that everything would be saved by gaining time. He accordingly proposed a journey into Andalusia on the 13th of March, and that very same night he gave orders for departure; but it was impossible to keep the preparations so secret as to escape the observation of some of the hangers-on who always throng about royal palaces. The orders all along the road for relays of horses, the departure of the luggage, the sudden disappearance of Madame Yudo, with her children, all these circumstances united, had produced an uneasiness among the people, and roused the feeling of hatred and indignation towards the Prince of the Peace, which had slumbered, but had never been extinguished, and it was declared that he was counselling the king to desert Madrid.
“In these popular movements, it needs but a spark to light the brand, and in less time than could be conceived possible, a crowd had assembled before Godoï’s residence, with loud and furious cries demanding justice on the oppressor of the people. Godoï escaped, thanks to his foresight in preparing for a day of reckoning. He had planned and accomplished a secret retreat beneath the roof of his palace, where he remained concealed while the work of pillage and devastation was going on around him. It was not till the 19th, that he was discovered by a sentinel, who could not be bribed to facilitate his flight. He was secured, and conveyed through the streets in a piteous plight.
“The king, justly deeming that the Prince of Asturias would have greater influence with the crowd than himself, was reduced to implore his son to intercede in favour of the unfortunate minister. This the prince, with true Christian feeling, in spite of all cause of grievance which he himself had to complain of, immediately consented to do; and, suddenly appearing on the balcony of the palace, he promised the assembled multitude that, if they would disperse, the Prince of the Peace should be tried and judged according to the law. This address had the desired effect; the crowd retired, and Godoï was taken prisoner to the barracks of the gardes du corps, where, by one of those strange coincidences by which it would appear as if Providence sought to remind ambitious men of a day of retribution, he was locked up in the very chamber which he had occupied when a simple private soldier in that identical corps.
“It was after this event that the Prince of Asturias was received into favour, and with him, the friends who had been so devoted to his cause. M. d’Escoïquiz was appointed to superintend all the negotiations with the French ambassador, as it was thought in council that M. de Beauharnais, after what had taken place, would find himself more at ease with M. d’Escoïquiz than with any other of its members.”
It was immediately after these events that Charles IV., by his own spontaneous act, abdicated the throne in favour of his son, who took his father’s place as Ferdinand VII. All the circumstances which followed are fully detailed in the work of M. de Pradt, and need not be repeated here. The details of the manuscript tally in every respect with those given by that author, and I shall therefore content myself with giving to the reader the gossiping portion of the narrative; the hitherto unpublished history of one of the most striking and audacious coups-de-main of modern history.
“From this hour was that coup-de-main evidently planned and meditated, and one scarcely knows which to admire most—the fond and simple security of the Spaniards, or the boldness and contempt of all social respect which characterized the proceedings of the French. The ambassador announced at length the arrival of the Emperor Napoleon at Bordeaux, and was pleased to renew the protestations of friendship on the part of his master, with which he had already beguiled the faith and credulity of the poor young Prince of Asturias. It was not, however, until the 8th of April that King Ferdinand decided on despatching his young brother, Don Carlos, to meet the emperor, with instructions to proceed even to Paris, should he fail to meet him on the road. Don Carlos was the bearer of a letter from Ferdinand to Napoleon, in which, after speaking of the strict alliance which it was the interest of both countries to maintain, and having again urged the subject of his marriage with one of the emperor’s nieces, he announced his intention of going forward to meet his imperial majesty, as soon as he should have approached the frontiers of Spain.
“Don Carlos took his departure on the 9th of April. The news of the departure of the emperor from Paris, reached Madrid on the 11th. Ferdinand, meanwhile, worn out with the persecutions of the Grand-duke of Berg and General Savary, quitted Madrid, for Burgos, on the 14th. His council advised him to this measure; perceiving that he had not the means either of attack or defence, it was thought to be the wisest plan to throw himself into the arms of Napoleon.
“It was now observed that not a single negotiation had taken place with the new king, and that he had not been formally acknowledged by Napoleon, who had never taken the trouble to answer any of his letters, and now, too late, it was beginning to be feared that the frequent conferences which had taken place between Charles IV., the queen, and the Grand-duke of Berg, through the medium of the Queen of Etruria, had for their only aim the replacing of Charles upon the throne, by causing him to protest against the act of abdication. This secret intrigue, of which M. de Monthion, adjutant-general, had been the messenger, and the Queen of Etruria the instrument, produced the act of the 21st of April, in which Charles IV. speaks thus:
“‘I protest and declare that my decree of the 19th of March, by which I abdicated the throne in favour of my son, was extorted from me by force, and the desire of preventing great disorder in my kingdom, and the effusion of the blood of my well-beloved people, and ought therefore to be regarded as an act null and void.
“‘Yo el Rey.’
“The natural consequence of this protest was of course the application to Napoleon for help against his son, thus pronounced a rebel and usurper. Ferdinand had authorized a junta, under the presidency of his uncle Don Antonio, to take charge of the government during his absence. He had with him a single squadron of the gardes du corps; and two companies of foot had orders to await him at Burgos. He was three days upon the road, and found every post occupied by French troops, among which he could not discern a single Spanish soldier. At Burgos, he found Marshal Bessières, in command of 10,000 men. The marshal courteously offered the use of the relays which had been provided for Napoleon, for the conveyance of Ferdinand to Vittoria, which offer was accepted. Here the unfortunate prince found a corps composed of two hundred dragoons, and a compagnie d’élite of fifty gendarmes, commanded by Colonel Fleury.
“The prince remained three days at Vittoria, and lodged at the Hotel de Ville. Savary grew impatient at this long delay; his orders were to bring the prince on to Bayonne, nolens volens. Every measure had been taken to carry him off on the 19th, if he had not listened to the last endeavour at persuasion on the 18th. But the king removed every difficulty, by announcing his intention of once more setting forward on his journey. At nine o’clock on the morning of the 19th, at the moment of his getting into the carriage, a popular instinct had drawn together a vast concourse of people at the door of the Hôtel de Ville; a universal cry of execration arose from the multitude as the young prince mounted the vehicle; the traces were cut, and the mules unharnessed. Ferdinand was compelled to harangue the populace, and succeeded in quieting them by assurances of his perfect safety; the furious cries which had been heard gave place to tears, and, soon afterwards, he was allowed to depart; but in consequence of the delay, did not arrive at Irun until eleven o’clock at night.
“Here the king and his brother were lodged at the house of M. d’Alozabal, outside the town, and they were guarded by a Spanish regiment. General Savary did not arrive at Irun until the 20th, at seven in the morning, owing to an accident which occurred to his carriage. Thus the king and his council were left for eight hours alone, without their French escort, guarded by Spanish troops, in the house of a Spaniard, situated on the sea-shore, where a number of boats were lying attached to stakes planted at the bottom of the garden. General Savary, immediately on his arrival, rushed like a terrified culprit to the house where the king had alighted. Oh, joy!—he found him still sleeping quietly in his bed.
“At eight o’clock, the cortège set out for Bayonne, and in that place was accomplished one of the most extraordinary events which, perhaps, has ever taken place in the history of nations. At the moment when the king passed over the frontier, the carriage was surrounded by detachments of the imperial guard. Their numbers appeared rather extraordinary for a mere guard of honour. This reflection, vague enough on its first adoption, changed to a sinister foreboding, when, on passing beneath the triumphal arch which had been thrown across the road, they beheld the following words inscribed amidst the boughs of laurel with which it was decorated:—‘He who can make and destroy Kings at pleasure is himself more than a King.’
“Now were the princes of Spain beyond the jurisdiction of their own country, and in the power of Napoleon. Between Vivau and Bayonne, Ferdinand found the Infant Don Paulo, who, with three Spanish noblemen, had come to greet his unhappy brother. The king requested them to join him in his carriage, and then he learned, with the greatest surprise, that Napoleon himself had declared to them on the day before, at ten in the morning, that they might never expect to return to Madrid, and that one of his own brothers was about to occupy the throne of Spain. I have marked the hour at which this declaration had taken place, because it must have taken eighteen hours to get the news conveyed to Irun, and at Irun, as we have seen, there had been ample time and opportunity for the escape of the princes.
“Nothing was left but resignation to their fate; the carriage was drawing near to Bayonne; at half-past twelve o’clock, the princes arrived in the good old city, and, a few moments afterwards, the king received a visit from Napoleon in person. In this interview, doubtless by design, the conversation was insignificant, excepting that it was observed that, in the style of Napoleon’s address to the king, there existed an affectation of addressing him in the third person, using the pronoun elle, which might be applicable in the French language either to majesty or royalty.
“Ferdinand hastened to pay his respects to Napoleon, in grateful homage for this first visit, and the emperor invited him to dine at the Château de Maroc. The Dukes de San Carlos, de Medina Cœli, and del’ Infantado, were also invited. The Prince de Neufchâtel was the only Frenchman present at this dinner.
“On the next day, Napoleon granted a private audience to M. d’Escoïquiz, and bade him comprehend that he was determined to alter the dynasty which had sat upon the throne of Spain; forgetting that he had a thousand times declared that his own existence was incompatible with the fact of any sovereign of the house of Bourbon being allowed to remain on any of the thrones of Europe. He alleged in excuse of his proceedings the proclamation of the Spanish government at the period of the battle of Jena, which proclamation, he said, had been regarded in France as a measure of war. He then added, in a loud, fierce voice, that it would be useless to seek to alter his determination, for that nothing on earth could make him change. He paused after the utterance of these terrible words, and then spoke, in a softened voice, of the misfortunes into which the young princes had fallen, and regretted for their sakes that he was compelled to take such harsh measures, wishing them to be assured that nothing but the necessity of perfecting his system could have induced him to behave thus hardly towards them. He even went so far as to offer to the young king, upon condition that he would renounce all pretensions to the Crown of Spain, the kingdom of Etruria, with one year’s revenue, to be spent in forming a household, one of his nieces in marriage, and, in case he himself died without heirs, a right to share his property with his younger brothers.
“M. d’Escoïquiz, who was a brave and clever man, answered to all this disloyal cant as became a Spaniard and a gentleman, without acrimony and without passion, stating that it was not in the power of the emperor to compensate the king for the loss of the crown of which he was depriving him, and appealing at great length to every feeling of honour and humanity in the emperor’s bosom. Napoleon listened to all without betraying the slightest mark of impatience, but merely replied that he had been for a long time engaged in examining the question on every side; that his present determination was dictated by the system which he had in view, and which, although against the feelings of his heart, he must continue to persevere in. The canon then retired. The result of his visit was submitted to the other friends of Ferdinand. M. de Cevallos was alone of opinion that every proposition of Napoleon should be refused, and that all communication between the two sovereigns should be suspended; and he exacted, seeing the great responsibility which the council was incurring with the Spanish nation, that each member should certify his opinion in writing.
“Is it not strange that the courage of these men should have been roused just at the moment when they had need of nought but resignation? But so it was: their Spanish pride had taken umbrage at last, and the Duke del’ Infantado was commissioned to announce to Napoleon the prince’s intention of naming a plenipotentiary to negotiate in writing every subject which it might be the emperor’s pleasure to have discussed. The proceeding of Napoleon on this occasion was highly characteristic of the man. He sent for M. d’Escoïquiz, and told him, in blunt and coarse language, that, if before eleven o’clock that night the councillors did not bring the formal renunciation of Ferdinand to the throne of Spain, and the formal demand of that of Etruria, he would treat with Charles IV., who was to arrive on the morrow. M. de Cevallos implored the young king not to accede to any proposition of Napoleon; but, the day after, M. d’Escoïquiz ventured to speak again concerning Tuscany, when Napoleon answered abruptly, ‘Par Dieu, mon cher, il n’est plus temps!’
“On the 30th, at four in the afternoon, Charles IV. and the queen, arrived at Bayonne. Napoleon had despatched one of his chamberlains to compliment them at Irun. In the same carriage with the king was the Princess d’Alcudia, daughter of the Prince of the Peace. The entry of the king and queen was most brilliant. The princes were allowed to go forward to meet them, and returned to Bayonne in their suite.
“The arrival of Charles completely altered the face of things. He consented to all that was required of him. Napoleon sent a message, through M. d’Escoïquiz, to Ferdinand, to the effect that, as King Charles IV. had refused to adhere to his abdication, it was the duty of the Prince of Asturias to give in his renunciation at the instant. The young prince, through weakness, consented to this mark of respect to his father, although aware that in this proposition some sinister design of Napoleon must be concealed. The first act of authority on the part of Charles was to name the Grand-duke of Berg lieutenant-general of the kingdom, thus excluding Don Antonio, who had been called to Bayonne by an order of Charles himself. Don Antonio had yielded without a murmur; and an aide-de-camp of the Grand-duke of Berg escorted him to Bayonne, where he arrived on the 25th. He had incurred some danger on the road, for the people had unharnessed the mules of his carriage at Tolosa, and thrown down cart-loads of rubbish on the bridge. Don Antonio had owed his safety entirely to the courage of the captain of cuirassiers who commanded his escort.
“Soon after the arrival of Don Antonio, the Queen of Etruria joined the royal party, bringing with her the Infant Don Francisco. It was at this moment that the princes were greeted with the astounding information that they were immediately to depart as prisoners for Valençay, and here they arrived on the 18th of May.
“Their entrance into the château will never be forgotten, for it left upon the mind of every beholder the most singular impression. The princes (all excepting Don Antonio) were young, and blooming with health and innocence, while everything about them, the habiliments which they wore, the carriages which conveyed them, the liveries of their attendants, brought back the memory of past centuries. The very coach from which they alighted might have belonged to Philip V. This air of antiquity reminded the bystanders of their grandeur, and rendered their position still more interesting. They were the first Bourbons who had touched the soil of France after so many years of troubles and disasters, and it was with tears that they were received. The Princess de Talleyrand and the ladies of her suite crowded round to greet them on their arrival, and by their attentions succeeded in diverting the grief which they expressed at this cruel and unjustifiable exile. It was the object of every inhabitant of the château to render this exile as easy to be borne as possible.
“On the very morrow of their arrival, the young princes were assured by all they saw, that Napoleon reigned not either in the château or in the park of Valençay. No one was permitted to appear before them without an order from themselves, and it was agreed that no one should approach them save in court costume. Such marks of honour and respect were pleasing to young men who had been brought up amid the ceremony and etiquette of the Escurial. Every hour of the day was allotted to some pursuit. In the morning, mass at the chapel—then the siesta—then driving or riding in the park, and then again to prayer. In a few days, the young princes found themselves more at home than they had ever done in their father’s palace at Madrid. They had never been accustomed even to go out to take an airing without a ceremonious permission from the king; they had never been allowed even to walk together, it not being etiquette for more than one royal prince to be absent from the palace at a time. It is a singular fact, that the amusements of the chase, riding on horseback, and dancing, had been strictly prohibited at the court of Spain. It was at Valençay that Ferdinand fired his first shot.
“The young princes were all delighted at the change in their habits, and at the kindness with which they were surrounded. The garde de chasse who accompanied them through the park, had served the Prince de Condé; the riding-master who was employed to teach them to ride, had been for years in the grande ecurie, and had given instructions to Madame Elizabeth; so that they were constantly reminded of individuals of their own family. Boucher, the cook, was continually employed in concocting detestable Spanish ollas. The terrace before the château was converted for their amusement into a salle de bal, where they would sometimes join in those dances of their country, which require no art to follow the movements or the step. Guitars were left in every corner of the garden, and the kind-hearted Dussek himself would devote his time and talent to the execution of simple Spanish airs, which they would love to hear, as being the only music they could understand.
“But all these amusements were only minor points of interest in the history of their lives. It was at the hour of prayer, when the bell of the chapel rang at sunset, that all the etiquette of Spanish form was most strictly adhered to. Every soul in the château, whether visitor, attendant, gaoler, or guard, was compelled to attend at the chapel; and it was really a touching sight to behold prisoners and gaolers, oppressors and oppressed, kneeling together before the same God, laying aside their bitterness and enmities before Him who was one day to judge them all.”
During this period of uncertainty, while his European allies were still dubious as to the manner in which his brother Joseph would be received as king of Spain, Napoleon was in a state of constant terror and alarm with regard to the prisoners of Valençay; he could not hear of the place, nor of the persons who inhabited it, without giving way to transports of rage, and to the utterance of injurious epithets concerning those whom he had already wronged and oppressed. One day, the young prince received a billet, couched in the following terms: ‘Prince Ferdinand, in writing to me, addresses me as his cousin. Let him understand that such address is ridiculous, and let him henceforth simply call me “Sire.”’
“From this time forward, the existence of the princes seemed to have been forgotten; and all that can be said of them during the five years that they spent at Valençay is, that they existed. The treaty which fixed their departure to Spain was negotiated at Valençay, and they left the place full of unspeakable gratitude for the kindness and princely generosity of its owner.”
“‘I protest and declare that my decree of the 19th of March, by which I abdicated the throne in favour of my son, was extorted from me by force, and the desire of preventing great disorder in my kingdom, and the effusion of the blood of my well-beloved people, and ought therefore to be regarded as an act null and void.
“‘Yo el Rey.’
Just as I had finished the reading of this tale of wonder, C. entered the room. “What think you of this strange statement?” said he. “The history of your own country, all wild and furious as it is, cannot offer an example of such audacity as this.” I was fain humbly to confess our inferiority in these matters. “But know you,” said I, “the opinion of Prince Talleyrand with regard to this affair?”
“He has been calumniated even in this,” was C.’s reply, “and accused of having advised the measure; whereas his indignation on learning from Napoleon himself the step which had been taken, dictated the boldest and most eloquent speech which, perhaps, ever fell from his lips: ‘Sire,’ said he, warmly, ‘a young man of family (un enfant de famille) may gamble away his last farthing—the heritage of his ancestors—the dower of his mother—the portion of his sisters—and yet be courted and admired for his wit—be sought for his talents or distinction—but let him once be detected in cheating at the game, and he is lost—society is for ever shut against him.’ With these words he turned upon his heel, leaving the emperor pale and quivering with rage, and vowing vengeance against the bold speaker of the unwholesome truth. Such was the real opinion of the Prince de Talleyrand concerning this unprincipled transaction—the expression of the man who has been accused, not only of having been the instigator of the whole proceeding, but of having aided in its execution. ‘Et voilà comme on écrit l’histoire!’”