England and the Orléans Monarchy

by John Hall

Hitherto Lord Aberdeen had studiously refrained from formulating any precise demand. But, on August 13, after a meeting of the Cabinet, he directed Cowley to give M. Guizot clearly to understand that, unless satisfaction in some shape were voluntarily offered, he must transmit “a formal and detailed statement of the grounds upon which Her Majesty’s government founded its expectations of redress.”[787] In England anger at the continued silence of the French government was rising to a dangerous pitch. On August 14, at a meeting at Exeter Hall, at which Mr. Pritchard himself was present, men, who in most international disputes would have advocated peace at any price, gave utterance to the most warlike sentiments. Two days later came the news that the answer of the Emperor of Morocco to the French ultimatum having been considered unsatisfactory, Tangier had been bombarded. “War,” wrote M. de Jarnac, “is now generally regarded as inevitable.”[788] Lord Cowley was instructed to represent that “the attack upon Tangier, after the repeated assurance of M. Guizot that it would be respected under all circumstances, had greatly surprised the British government . . . any occupation of the coast of Morocco could not fail to be viewed in a very serious light by Great Britain, and must lead to evils of great magnitude.[789]”

M. Guizot, however, adhered resolutely to his plan “of allowing time for the excitement to cool down” in England, and he still forbore to offer any satisfaction for the treatment to which Mr. Pritchard had been subjected. Both he and the King appear to have strangely underestimated the intensity of the resentment to which the Tahiti affair had given rise. “The two governments,” he informed Jarnac, “were not yet agreed in their appreciation of the facts imputed to Mr. Pritchard,” and it was, consequently, impossible for the present to discuss the nature of the reparation which might be due to him. Again, a few days later, he directed him to inform Lord Aberdeen that his despatch of the 13th would have to be deliberated upon by the Council, “many of the members of which were absent from Paris.”[790] Meanwhile, the press of both countries was busily engaged in embittering the quarrel. Some highly offensive attacks upon the private life of Mr. Pritchard appeared in the French papers, whilst The Times published letters, purporting to have been written by naval officers who had witnessed the bombardment of Tangier, in which the most insulting doubts were cast upon the seamanship of the Prince de Joinville and upon the fighting qualities of the French sailors.[791] M. Guizot, however, continued to display a lofty indifference to the popular excitement on both sides of the Channel. He was content to enjoin M. de Jarnac to impress upon Lord Aberdeen that it “would be a disgrace, were the peace of the world to be disturbed on account of Pritchard, Pomare and d’Aubigny.”[792]

But the young diplomatist in charge of the French embassy in London was, fortunately, alive to the dangers of the situation. Ever since the first arrival of the news from Tahiti, M. de Jarnac had sought to convince his government that the affair was highly serious. Nor was it only to M. Guizot that he addressed his warnings. Having been charged to deliver a letter from the King to Prince Albert, he took the opportunity, thus afforded him, of communicating his fears to Louis Philippe himself. He begged him to believe that at a recent Cabinet Council Lord Aberdeen had been the only minister to oppose a large increase of the navy. “Were it not for the confidence reposed in the wisdom of Your Majesty, the situation would resemble in many unfortunate particulars that of 1840.”[793] He daily adjured M. Guizot to reflect most seriously upon the danger of deferring any longer his reply to the British government. “People in England are discussing alliances and talk of nothing but war. M. de Nesselrode is staying at Brighton. He affects to be unconcerned with politics. But it is said that he remains here in order that he may be upon the spot, should a serious disagreement arise between France and England. If that be his object, fortune may have favoured his designs in a remarkable manner.”[794]

The British Parliament was to be prorogued on September 5, and, unless an announcement could be made in the Queen’s Speech that a settlement had been arrived at, war, it was generally felt, could scarcely be avoided. Even M. Guizot began to realize that, if the peace was to be preserved, he must propose some form of reparation. On several occasions Jarnac had hinted that the British government might very possibly be satisfied, were a pecuniary indemnity to be offered to Mr. Pritchard.[795] Unquestionably, the payment of a sum of money would be regarded in France as less objectionable than most other forms of reparation. But, having proposed to the King and the Cabinet that the affair should be settled on those lines, and having obtained their assent, M. Guizot still deferred transmitting an offer of pecuniary compensation to London. In a despatch, dated August 29, a copy of which was to be given to Lord Aberdeen, he stoutly maintained the right of the authorities at Tahiti to expel Mr. Pritchard from the island. His imprisonment, however, and certain other acts of which M. d’Aubigny had been guilty, could not be defended, and that officer would, in consequence, receive in due course a notification of the censure which the government had passed upon his conduct. He could concede no more, he told Lord Cowley, and he fully intended to retire from office, if further redress were to be demanded.[796] Nevertheless, he appears privately to have informed M. de Jarnac that he was transmitting a second despatch, containing an offer of a money payment to Mr. Pritchard, which he was to communicate to Lord Aberdeen, should the British government regard the reprimand, administered to M. d’Aubigny, as an inadequate reparation. This, as he doubtless expected, was the view taken of his first despatch by the Cabinet in London. Jarnac, in consequence, lost no time in assuring Lord Aberdeen that an offer of a pecuniary indemnity would be made. Had he not taken this responsibility upon himself, he was convinced that the customary announcement that “friendly relations existed with other countries” would have been omitted from the Queen’s Speech, and “the whole of Europe would have been thrown into a state of perturbation.” On the following day, September 4, he placed in the hands of Lord Aberdeen the official offer of the French government to indemnify Mr. Pritchard by the payment of a sum of money, the amount of which was to be determined by the admirals commanding the French and British fleets in the Pacific. Aberdeen pronounced the proposed satisfaction “rather slender,” but assured him that he might now consider the matter as settled.[797] Twenty-four hours later Parliament was prorogued, and the happy termination of the Pritchard affair was announced in the Speech from the Throne. “The danger,” wrote Queen Victoria to the King of the Belgians, had been “imminent.”[798]

The settlement of the Tahiti dispute was quickly followed by the welcome news that France had concluded peace with the Emperor of Morocco. Marshal Bugeaud, on August 14, had won a decisive victory over the Moors on the river Isly, whilst at sea the Prince de Joinville, after silencing the forts of Tangier, had, on August 15, destroyed the defences of Mogador. Neither the King nor M. Guizot desired to prosecute the campaign any further. They had obtained all the advantages which they could hope to derive from active hostilities. They had proved that they were not to be deterred, by the irritation which their action had called forth in England, from inflicting a severe punishment upon the Moors. The national thirst for military glory had been sufficiently appeased by the successes which had already been achieved. Under these circumstances, they were not disposed to be exacting in their conditions. Provided the Emperor would submit to the terms set forth in their original ultimatum, they would not insist upon an indemnity, but would recall their troops and forthwith suspend hostilities. The Court of Fez promptly acceded to these moderate demands, and, on September 10, 1844, a treaty of peace was signed at Tangier.

The cessation of hostilities between France and Morocco removed much of the resentment which recent events in the Mediterranean and in the Pacific had aroused in England. Notwithstanding that, at the end of August, 1844, the two countries had been upon the brink of war, Louis Philippe, early in October, was enabled to return the visit which Queen Victoria, the year before, had paid him at the Château d’Eu. During his stay in England the King was installed with much magnificence as a Knight of the Garter at Windsor, and, on every occasion on which he was seen in public, was accorded a hearty welcome by the people. Isabella’s marriage still occupied the foremost place in his thoughts. That question, however, had made but little progress, in spite of the overthrow of Espartero and of the triumph of Christina and the Moderados.

After the flight of the Regent Spain had passed under the rule of Ramon Maria Narvaez, the Captain-General of Castile, an able and unscrupulous adventurer. The Liberals, who had joined with the Moderados in encompassing the downfall of Espartero, were quickly forced to realize the magnitude of their folly. Parliamentary government was practically abolished, and any attempts to resist the authority of the dictator were mercilessly repressed. Over two hundred executions for political offences, during the space of one year, broke the spirit of the democratic party, and gave the country an outward appearance of tranquillity. The difficulty of selecting a Regent in the place of Espartero had, in the meantime, been overcome by the unconstitutional declaration of the Cortes, on November 8, 1843, that the Queen was of full age, although she had only entered upon her fourteenth year. The question having thus been settled, Christina, in the spring of 1844, left Paris and returned to Madrid, accompanied by her husband, Nuñoz, henceforward to be known as the Duke of Rianzarez.

In 1844 the eldest son of Don Carlos, the two sons of Don Francisco de Paula, and Count Trapani, the brother of the King of Naples, and of Christina herself, were, for all practical purposes, the only unmarried male descendants of Philip V. If, therefore, the principle proclaimed by Louis Philippe were to be adhered to, Isabella’s choice of a husband must be restricted to these four princes. To each one, however, there were serious objections. Although a suitable candidate in other respects, the son of Don Carlos was ineligible on political grounds.[799] The idea of her daughter’s marriage with either of the sons of Don Francisco de Paula was most distasteful to Christina. Notwithstanding that their mother, the Infanta Carlotta, was her sister, she had for a long time past looked upon her as her worst enemy. Nor had the death of this princess, early in 1844,[800] greatly diminished the animosity with which she regarded this branch of the family. But in addition to the feud which had existed for so many years between Christina and their mother, both young men for different reasons were objectionable in themselves. The appearance of the elder, Don Francisco de Asis, Duke of Cadiz, was ridiculous and effeminate, and he, moreover, was generally believed to be impotent. Christina, however, appears to have regarded the loudly professed Liberalism of Don Enrique, Duke of Seville, as a more serious objection to his marriage with her daughter than the physical unfitness of his elder brother. The fourth candidate, Count Trapani, was an unattractive, backward youth of sixteen, whose life had hitherto been spent within the walls of a Jesuit College at Rome. The difficulties, however, in the way of his marriage with Isabella were mainly political. Metternich greatly disliked the notion of a closer connection between the absolute Court of Naples and the constitutional monarchy of Spain.[801] Furthermore, the Spanish people despised the Neapolitans, and could not fail to resent the idea of selecting the Royal Consort from the Neapolitan branch of the Bourbons.[802]

Count Trapani, nevertheless, was chosen by Louis Philippe and M. Guizot as the most suitable husband for Isabella. In the summer of 1844, the French agents, both at Naples and at Madrid, were instructed to further his candidature by all means in their power.[803] Christina’s feelings on the subject cannot be precisely determined. There can be little doubt, however, that she never gave the project her hearty support. Probably she realized that it was impracticable by reason of the dislike with which it was certain to be regarded by Spaniards of all classes. It is significant that one of her first acts, after her return to Madrid, was to assure Mr. Bulwer that she had no intention of submitting to the dictation of Louis Philippe, and that she still hoped to arrange the marriage of Isabella with Leopold, the son of Prince Ferdinand of Coburg.[804] Henry Bulwer had been appointed British minister at Madrid, soon after the downfall of the Regent. Aberdeen appears to have been anxious that a man, less wedded than Aston to Palmerstonian traditions, should carry out the new policy of cordially co-operating with France for the general welfare of Spain. The French government, once Espartero had been expelled, had hastened to resume normal diplomatic relations with the Court of Isabella. Accordingly, almost at the same time as Bulwer was sent to Madrid, the Comte Bresson, whose proceedings at Brussels in 1831 have been related, was transferred from Berlin to the Spanish capital as French ambassador. Far from acting harmoniously together, however, they appear to have cordially disliked each other. Bresson is described by Bulwer,[805] in his Life of Palmerston, as a person sprung from the middle classes, and “consequently vulgarly pre-occupied with his position as ambassador.” Bresson,[806] for his part, considered his English colleague as “pas élevé,” and as a man against whom he must constantly be on his guard, lest he should take some liberty with him.

At the close of the year of 1844, a further complication was added to the many difficulties which surrounded the question of the Queen’s marriage. “I believe,” wrote Lord Cowley,[807] “that Louis Philippe is thinking of the marriage of Montpensier[808] with the sister of Isabella.” The supposition was perfectly correct. It is impossible, however, to say with certainty when the King first decided to put forward his son as a candidate for the hand of the Infanta Fernanda. According to Guizot,[809] the suggestion was not made until the autumn of 1844, and it was then propounded, he alleges, for the purpose of reconciling Christina and the Spanish people to the insignificance of the Neapolitan alliance. But it was always, he asserts, made perfectly clear that the Montpensier marriage could not take place until the Queen had married and borne a child. Be that as it may, it was not considered advisable to inform Lord Aberdeen of this project. During the next few months, however, the new matrimonial scheme was the subject of many rumours, and, in the month of July, 1845, a visit of the Duke of Rianzarez to Paris was so generally believed to be connected with this affair, that it was felt that some explanation must be given to the British government.[810] M. Guizot, accordingly, informed Mr. Bulwer, who happened to be in Paris on his way to London, that he wished Lord Aberdeen to know that “King Louis Philippe and Queen Christina were desirous to settle the marriage for private and personal reasons into which the Infanta’s fortune entered.” It would not take place for some time, he assured him, and in any case not until Isabella had had children.[811]