Upon this the Ambassador made some remark which added fuel to the fire of the General’s wrath, and, advancing to the Englishman, he made him rise from his seat, took him by the neck, and kicked him so that he nearly fell to the ground. The Ambassador took his papers for England that day, and this incident doubtless added to the bitterness with which Bulwer reported on the affairs of Spain.
The incident just related, of this last interview of Sir Bulwer Lytton with the Spanish Premier, was evidently never reported in all its bearings, but enough was known for it to be seen that the Ambassador was apt to embroil matters. For in “The Letters of Queen Victoria,” vol. ii., p. 207, Her Majesty writes:
“May 23, 1848.
“The sending away of Sir H. Bulwer[17] is a serious affair, which will add to our many embarrassments. The Queen, however, is not surprised at it, from the tenor of the last accounts of Madrid, and from the fact that Sir H. Bulwer has, for the last three years, been sporting with political intrigues. He invariably boasted of being in the confidence of every conspiracy, though he was taking care not to be personally mixed up in them; and, after their various failures, generally harboured the chief actors in his house under the plea of humanity. At every crisis he gave us to understand that he had to choose between a revolution and a palace intrigue, and not long ago he wrote to Lord Palmerston that if the Monarchy with the Montpensier succession was inconvenient to us, he could get up a Republic.”
[17] “Lord Palmerston had written a letter to Bulwer (which the latter showed to the Spanish Premier) lecturing the Spanish Queen on her choice of a Minister. This assumption of superiority, as Sir Robert Peel calls it, led to a peremptory order to leave Spain in twenty-four hours.—Editor.”
But Isabella’s realm was still torn by insurrections. In January, 1860, the Prefect of the Police reported that a rebellion was being prepared in Spain against the throne by the Carlist party, under Don Carlos Luis de Bourbon y de Braganza, Count of Montemolin. When justice was prepared to take its course against the insurrectionists, Don Carlos wrote to Isabella, saying:
“I am certain that your compassionate heart, which has always shown pity for the unfortunate, will not fail to have mercy on your cousins, and not deny the pardon that we crave.”
This mercy was also eloquently pleaded for by the unhappy mother of the delinquents. So, obedient to the impulse of her kind heart, Isabella said to the weeping parent: “Be at rest; your son shall not die.”
However, the Carlist family soon forgot the clemency of the Queen, and the letter of Juan de Bourbon, son of Don Carlos, Ferdinand’s brother, showed that the spirit of animosity burnt as powerfully as ever in the breast of the claimant to the throne.
“Twenty-seven years you have reigned,” ran the Prince’s letter to his royal cousin, “and you must confess that the hand of God has not helped you. I know the country; I know equally well that your heart is good, and that you do good when you can, and you regret the evils which afflict Spain. But you try in vain. You cannot fight against Providence, which never wills that evil should prosper. Be assured, dear cousin, that God did not choose you to make the happiness of Spain, and that Divine Providence has denied you the lot of being a great Queen. Descend, Isabella—descend from the throne! Show yourself great in this matter, and take the place to which you have a claim in my family as my dear cousin, and as having occupied the throne for so many years, and do not expose yourself to final disaster and bring ruin on the family.”