“Ah!” said Beramendi to himself, whilst his royal mistress continued in the same strain of religious trust to his wife, “do not invoke the true God whilst you prostrate yourself before the false one. This god of thine is an idol made of superstition, and decked in the trappings of flattery; he will not come to your aid, because he is not God. I pity you, blind, generous, misled Sovereign.... Those who loved you so much now merely pity you.... You have been silly enough to turn the love of the Spaniards to commiseration, if not to hatred. I see your goodness, your affection, but these gifts are not sufficient to rule a nation. The Spanish people have got tired of looking for the fruit of your good heart.”
When Isabella gave the sign of dismissal of the courtier and his wife by rising to her feet, he said to himself sadly:
“Good-bye, Queen Isabella; you have spoilt your life. Your reign began with the smiles of all the good fairies, but you have changed them into devils, which drag you to perdition.... As your ears are never allowed to hear the truth, I cannot tell you that you will reign until O’Donnell will permit the Generals to second Prim’s plans. Oh, poor Queen! you would think me mad if I said such a thing to you; you would think I was a rebel and a personal enemy, and you would run in terror to consult with your devilish nuns and the odious set which has raised a high wall between Isabella II. and the love of Spain. Good-bye, lady of the sad destiny; may God save your descendants, as He cannot save you!”
The good-heartedness of the Queen was, indeed, seen by all about her, and there are people still at the Palace of Madrid who remember seeing Her Majesty take off her bracelets and give them to the beggars which infest the royal courtyard. All the best impulses of Isabella were turned to her own ruin for the want of true patriots, who by supporting the constitutional rights of the nation would have secured the sovereignty to the Queen. The self-interested conduct of the generals and statesmen, whose command in the camarilla of the palace meant rule over the heart of Her Majesty, tended naturally only to the overthrow of personal rivals, and to the neglect of the welfare of the land.
Prim therefore became the hope of the nation. With his return to the capital, thought the people, crushed down by taxation and deprived of constitutional liberty, there will be an end to the camarilla, Narvaez, and Patrocinio, and we shall have the pure fresh air of disinterested policy.
The death of O’Donnell at Biarritz relieved Narvaez of the fear of his rival’s return, but the General had the mortification of seeing his royal mistress utterly in the hands of Marfori, who had been raised from the position of Intendente of the Palace to the position of supreme personal favour.
When the Queen heard of O’Donnell’s death, she is reported to have said: “He determined not to be Minister with me again, and now he can never be.”
The Queen now committed the suicidal act of making Gonzalez Brabo Prime Minister in the place of Narvaez. The poor lady seemed quite to have lost her head, and there was no one to put her on the right path, surrounded as she was with harpies.
According to a letter from Pius IX., found in the Princess’s prayer-book in the royal palace after the Queen had taken flight, the Pope counselled the marriage of the Infanta Isabella with a Neapolitan Prince. Even whilst the fêtes of the marriage were going on, Gonzalez Brabo was concerting with the revolutionary Generals, and the name of “Prim and Liberty!” was heard on all sides, and messengers were sent to consult with the leader of the Republican party in London.
The supporters of the Montpensier party hoped that the dethronement of Isabella would mean the acceptance of the Duchess of Montpensier as Queen, and her husband as Prince-Consort. But this idea was soon nipped by Monsieur de Persigny, the President of the Privy Council of the Emperor of the French, saying to Olozaga, who was then Spanish Ambassador at Paris, that he would never consent to the crown of Spain being on the head of either the Duke or the Duchess of Montpensier.