Long inquiry and investigation never revealed convincingly the hand that shot the General in the street. It was supposed by some to have been a partisan of an unsuccessful candidate to the throne; others think it was a gipsy, who did it as a deed of outlawry. Be that as it may, strong suspicion fell upon Señor Paul y Angulo, who expressed his indignation strongly in the prologue to his paper on “Revolutionary Truths”:
“The sacrifices that I have made for my country have been no light matters, and all I have in return is to find myself obliged to leave my poor country, to be the victim of vile calumniators, and to have to fly from persecution as if I were some horrible criminal.”
Prim’s death was accompanied with much suffering, for some of his fingers were so seriously injured by the shot, it was thought that their amputation would save his life. But the operation was in vain, and the General died in two days, just as Amadeus landed at Carthagena.
When the sad news reached the new King, that his ardent supporter had fallen a martyr to his cause, he said:
“Gentlemen, my duty is clear: I must go on to Madrid.”
Arrived at the Spanish capital on January 2, 1871, where a fall of snow added gloom to the occasion, Amadeus at once repaired to the Church of Atocha, to pay his respects to the remains of the man to whom he mainly owed the throne of Spain.
As the young King gazed at the corpse of the great leader, who had inspired trust and confidence in all with whom he came in contact, he prayed for strength to be able to fulfil the hopes which the Spaniard had directed to himself. With Prim, the pioneer of Liberty in Spain, young Amadeus, who had fought for the same cause in his own country, had always felt in sympathy.
Those who had suffered for their religious opinions had looked to the great soldier as the herald of a new era. Juan Cabrera, the leader of the Protestant movement, who had fled to Gibraltar for fear of imprisonment, and there led a life of exile and hardship, hastened to meet Prim after the coup which put Spain practically in his hands.
“May I return to my country?” asked Cabrera, when he saw him at Gibraltar.
“Yes, yes, my man,” replied the General, whilst fixing his keen eyes on the Protestant’s face, worn with study and anxiety, “you can go back to Spain now with your Bible under your arm.”