There is a curious sequel to all this. Choiseul, proud of his achievement in expelling the Jesuits from France and its colonies, now conceived the magnificent project of colonizing Guyana on lines quite different from those followed by the detested Order. He induced 14,000 deluded French people to go and take possession of the rich and fertile lands of Guyana. They found one poor old Jesuit there, who because he was not a subject of France, had refused to obey the decree of expulsion. His name was O'Reilly, but what could he do with 14,000 people? He simply disappeared from the scene. Very likely, he joined the Indians, who fled into the forests at the sight of this immense army of Frenchmen, who now had the country to themselves without striking a blow. But two years later, Chevalier de Balzac had to report back to France, that of the 14,000 colonists only 918 were alive. Thus, expelling 6,000 Jesuits from France, Choiseul had murdered 13,000 of his fellow-countrymen (Christian Missions, II, 168).
In 1766, M. de Piedmont, the governor wrote to the Duc de Praslin, that he had already informed the Duc de Choiseul how necessary it was to send priests to this colony. He then described the destruction of the mission posts, the flight of the Indians, the growth of crime amongst the negroes and the rapid ruin of the colony, and added that religion was dying out among the whites as well as among the colored races. For ten years, he kept on repeating this complaint, but no heed was paid to him. At length, Louis XVI, who was so soon to be himself a victim of Choiseul's iniquity sent there, three Jesuits, not Frenchmen, perhaps he had not the heart to ask any of them, but three Jesuits, who had been expelled from Portugal by Pombal, Choiseul's accomplice. They were Padilla, Mathos, and Ferreira. They accepted the mission and the "Journal" of Christopher de Murr says: "The poor savages beholding once again men clothed in the habit which they had learned to venerate, and hearing them speak their own language, fell at their feet, bathing them with tears, and promised to become once more good Christians, since the Fathers, who had begotten them in Jesus Christ, had come back to them." No doubt, these three holy men remained till they died with their poor abandoned Indians.
France's folly in this governmental act was summed up in a letter of d'Alembert to Choiseul, just before the expulsion. In it he says: "France will resort to this rigorous measure against its own subjects at the very moment she is doing nothing in her foreign policy, and in the chronological epitomes of the future we shall read the words for the year 1762: 'This year France lost all her colonies and threw out the Jesuits.'"
[CHAPTER XVI]
CHARLES III
The Bourbon Kings of Spain — Character of Charles III — Spanish Ministries — O'Reilly — The Hat and Cloak Riot — Cowardice of Charles — Tricking the monarch — The Decree of Suppression — Grief of the Pope — His death — Disapproval in France by the Encyclopedists — The Royal Secret — Simultaneousness of the Suppression — Wanderings of the Exiles — Pignatelli — Expulsion by Tanucci.
Spain had begun to deteriorate in the seventeenth century; it lost all of its European dependencies in the eighteenth, and in the beginning of the nineteenth was stripped of almost every one of its rich and powerful colonies in America. During two-thirds of that period, it was governed by foreigners, none of whom had any claim to consideration, much less respect. Until 1700 it owed allegiance to the house of Austria; after that, the French Bourbons hurried it to its ruin.
Its first Bourbon king, Philip V, had already, in 1713, succeeded in losing Sicily, Milan, Sardinia, the Netherlands, Gibraltar, and the Island of Minorca; that is one-half of its European possessions. Meantime, Catalonia was in rebellion. But little else could be expected from such a ruler. He was not only constitutionally indolent, but apparently mentally defective. His queen kept him in seclusion, and he did nothing but at her dictation; he was professedly devout, but was racked by ridiculous scruples; "outwardly pious," says Schoell, quoting Saint-Simon, "but heedless of the fundamental principles of religion; he was timid and hence sporadically stubborn; and when not in temper, he was easily led. He was without imagination, except that he was continually dreaming of conquering Europe, although he never left Madrid; he was satisfied with the gloomiest existence, and his only amusement was shooting at game, which his servants drove into the brush for him to kill." His conscience often smote him for the sin he said he had committed when he renounced his claim to the throne of France; and, in consequence, he made a vow to lay aside the Spanish crown until what time he should be summoned by England to be King of France. To help him keep his vow, he built the palace of San Ildefonso, which cost the nation 45,000,000 pesos. He appointed his son Louis, a lad of 17, to reign in his stead, and the boy, of course, did nothing but enjoy himself, and died of small-pox in six months' time, having first gone through the ridiculous farce of making his father his heir. Philip then began to doubt whether he could resume his duties as king after having vowed to relinquish them. Besides being thus troubled with scruples, he was in constant dread of catching the disease which carried off his son; he died of apoplexy, July 9, 1764 at the age of 53.
Ferdinand VI, who succeeded him, was as indolent as his father, and with less talent and strength of will; he was afflicted with melancholia, and like his father was haunted by the fear of death. He took no part in the government of the kingdom, but spent most of his time listening to the warblings of the male-soprano, Farinelli, who was so adored by the king that he was sometimes consulted on state affairs. The queen was another of his idols, and when she died, he shut himself in, saw no one, would eat next to nothing; never changed his linen; let his hair and beard grow, and never went to bed. An hour or two in a chair was all he allowed himself for rest. He died at the end of the year, leaving a private fortune of 72,000,000 francs. He was only forty-seven years old. Like the king, the queen was dominated by fear, not however of death, but of poverty. To guard against that contingency she hoarded all the money she could get; accepted whatever presents were offered; and let it be known that the easiest way to win her favor was to have something to give. It is gravely said that though she was very corpulent she was extravagantly fond of dancing.