Mendizabal had told me to call upon him again at the end of three months, giving me hopes that he would not then oppose himself to the publication of the New Testament; before, however, the three months had elapsed, he had fallen into disgrace, and had ceased to be prime minister.
An intrigue had been formed against him, at the head of which were two quondam friends of his, and fellow-townsmen, Gaditanians, Isturitz, and Alcala Galiano. Both of them had been egregious liberals in their day, and indeed principal members of those Cortes which, on the Angoulême invasion, had hurried Ferdinand from Madrid to Cadiz, and kept him prisoner there until that impregnable town thought proper to surrender, and both of them had been subsequently refugees in England, where they had spent a considerable number of years.
These gentlemen, however, finding themselves about this time exceedingly poor, and not seeing any immediate prospect of advantage from supporting Mendizabal—considering themselves, moreover, quite as good men as he, and as capable of governing Spain in the present emergency—determined to secede from the party of their friend, whom they had hitherto supported, and to set up for themselves.
They therefore formed an opposition to Mendizabal in the Cortes; the members of this opposition assumed the name of moderados, in contradistinction to Mendizabal and his followers, who were ultra-liberals. The moderados were encouraged by the Queen Regent Christina, who aimed at a little more power than the liberals were disposed to allow her, and who had a personal dislike to the minister. They were likewise encouraged by Cordova, [180a] who at that time commanded the army, and was displeased with Mendizabal, inasmuch as the latter did not supply the pecuniary demands of the general with sufficient alacrity, though it is said that the greater part of what was sent for the payment of the troops was not devoted to that purpose, but was invested in the French funds in the name and for the use and behoof of the said Cordova.
It is, however, by no means my intention to write an account of the political events which were passing around me at this period; suffice it to say that Mendizabal, finding himself thwarted in all his projects by the Regent and the general, the former of whom would adopt no measure which he recommended, whilst the latter remained inactive, and refused to engage the enemy, which by this time had recovered from the check caused by the death of Zumalacarregui, [180b] and was making considerable progress, resigned, and left the field, for the time, open to his adversaries, though he possessed an immense majority in the Cortes, and had the voice of the nation, at least the liberal part of it, in his favour.
Thereupon [181a] Isturitz [181b] became head of the cabinet, Galiano minister of marine, and a certain Duke of Rivas minister of the interior. These were the heads of the moderado government; but as they were by no means popular at Madrid, and feared the nationals, they associated with themselves one who hated the latter body, and feared nothing, a man of the name of Quesada—a very stupid individual, but a great fighter, who, at one period of his life, had commanded a legion or body of men called the Army of the Faith, whose exploits, both on the French and Spanish side of the Pyrenees, are too well known to require recapitulation. This person was made captain-general of Madrid. [181c]
By far the most clever member of this government was Galiano, whose acquaintance I had formed shortly after my arrival. He was a man of considerable literature, and particularly well versed in that of his own country. He was, moreover, a fluent, elegant, and forcible speaker, and was to the moderado party within the Cortes what Quesada was without, namely, their horses and chariots. Why he was made minister of marine is difficult to say, as Spain did not possess any; perhaps, however, from his knowledge of the English language, which he spoke and wrote nearly as well as his own tongue, having, indeed, during his sojourn in England, chiefly supported himself by writing for reviews and journals,—an honourable occupation, but to which few foreign exiles in England would be qualified to devote themselves.
He was a very small and irritable man, and a bitter enemy to every person who stood in the way of his advancement. He hated Mendizabal with undisguised rancour, and never spoke of him but in terms of unmeasured contempt. “I am afraid that I shall have some difficulty in inducing Mendizabal to give me permission to print the Testament,” said I to him one day. “Mendizabal is a jackass,” replied Galiano. “Caligula made his horse consul, which I suppose induced Lord --- to send over this huge burro of the Stock Exchange to be our minister.”
It would be very ungrateful, on my part, were I not to confess my great obligations to Galiano, who assisted me to the utmost of his power in the business which had brought me to Spain. Shortly after the ministry was formed, I went to him and said, “that now or never was the time to make an effort in my behalf.” “I will do so,” said he, in a waspish tone; for he always spoke waspishly whether to friend or foe; “but you must have patience for a few days; we are very much occupied at present. We have been out-voted in the Cortes, and this afternoon we intend to dissolve them. It is believed that the rascals will refuse to depart, but Quesada will stand at the door ready to turn them out, should they prove refractory. Come along, and you will perhaps see a funcion.”
After an hour’s debate, the Cortes were dissolved without it being necessary to call in the aid of the redoubtable Quesada, and Galiano forthwith gave me a letter to his colleague, the Duke of Rivas, in whose department he told me was vested the power either of giving or refusing the permission to print the book in question. The duke was a very handsome young man, of about thirty, an Andalusian by birth, like his two colleagues. He had published several works—tragedies, I believe—and enjoyed a certain kind of literary reputation. He received me with the greatest affability; and having heard what I had to say, he replied with a most captivating bow, and a genuine Andalusian grimace: “Go to my secretary; go to my secretary—el hará por usted el gusto.” [183] So I went to the secretary, whose name was Oliban, an Aragonese, who was not handsome, and whose manners were neither elegant nor affable. “You want permission to print the Testament?” “I do,” said I. “And you have come to his Excellency about it?” continued Oliban. “Very true,” I replied. “I suppose you intend to print it without notes?” “Yes.” “Then his Excellency cannot give you permission,” said the Aragonese secretary. “It was determined by the Council of Trent that no part of the Scripture should be printed in any Christian country without the notes of the church.” “How many years was that ago?” I demanded. “I do not know how many years ago it was,” said Oliban; “but such was the decree of the Council of Trent.” “Is Spain at present governed according to the decrees of the Council of Trent?” I inquired. “In some points she is,” answered the Aragonese, “and this is one. But tell me, who are you? Are you known to the British minister?” “Oh yes, and he takes a great interest in the matter.” “Does he?” said Oliban; “that indeed alters the case: if you can show me that his Excellency takes an interest in this business, I certainly shall not oppose myself to it.”