Philip II. was succeeded by Philip III. After him came Philip IV. and then Charles II. Of these monarchs Mignet said: “Philip II. was merely a king. Philip III. and Philip IV. were not kings, and Charles II. was not even a man.” The death of the latter precipitated the War of the Succession, the military operations of which were rendered famous by the military exploits of Eugene and Marlborough. But this is not the place to recite them. The chief scenes of hostilities were the Netherlands, Germany and Italy, and their narration belongs more properly to the histories of these lands. Suffice it to say that by the Treaty of Utrecht war was concluded in 1711, and Philip V., a Bourbon, second grandson of Louis XIV., was, in accordance with the will of Charles II., acknowledged King of Spain. By the same treaty England gained Gibraltar, while the Spanish Netherlands, Milan, Naples and Sardinia were ceded to Austria.
With the accession of a Bourbon, Spain entered into a new period of history, during which it once more played a part in the politics of Europe, as also in its wars; those, for instance, of the Polish and Austrian successions—the country meanwhile being additionally embroiled with England.
Philip V. was succeeded by Ferdinand VI., and the latter by Charles III., whose death, together with the accession of Charles IV., were contemporary with the French Revolution. The execution of Louis XVI. made a profound impression on a country where loyalty was a superstition. Charles IV. was roused to demand vengeance for the insult to his family. Godoy, the Prime Minister, could but follow the national impulse; and Spain became a member of the first coalition against France. But the two campaigns which ensued provoked the contempt of Europe. They form a catalogue of defeats. Under the circumstances it is no wonder that Spain followed the example of Prussia and concluded a treaty of peace.
The next event of importance was Napoleon’s famous coup de main—the seizure of the Spanish royal family at Bayonne—the jugglery which he performed with the crown, its transference by him from Ferdinand VII. (son of Charles IV.) to Joseph Bonaparte, and the revolt of the South American colonies which that act produced.
Then came the restoration of Spanish independence through England’s aid; Wellington’s famous campaign; the battles of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos; the entry into Madrid; the retreat of Joseph to Valencia; Napoleon’s crushing defeat at Leipzig, and Ferdinand’s return from captivity at Valençay.
The circumstances through which these last-mentioned events were induced or precipitated, and which are collectively known as the Peninsular War, originated at the moment when Napoleon was practically master of Europe. Its whole face was changed. Prussia was occupied by French troops. Holland was changed into a monarchy by a simple decree of the French emperor, and its crown bestowed on his brother Louis. Another brother, Jerome, became King of Westphalia, a new realm built up out of the electorates of Hesse-Cassel and Hanover. A third brother, Joseph, was made King of Naples; while the rest of Italy, and even Rome itself, was annexed to the French empire. It was the hope of effectually crushing the world-power of Britain which drove him to his worst aggression, the aggression upon Spain.
Napoleon acted with his usual subtlety. In October, 1807, France and Spain agreed to divide Portugal between them; and on the advance of their forces the reigning House of Braganza fled helplessly from Lisbon to a refuge in Brazil. But the seizure of Portugal was only a prelude to the seizure of Spain. Charles IV., whom a riot in his capital drove at this moment to abdication, and his son, Ferdinand VII., were drawn to Bayonne in May, 1808, and forced to resign their claims to the Spanish crown; while a French army entered Madrid and proclaimed Napoleon’s brother Joseph king of Spain.
This high-handed act of aggression was hardly completed when Spain rose as one man against the stranger; and desperate as the effort of its people seemed, the news of the rising was welcomed throughout England with a burst of enthusiastic joy. “Hitherto,” cried Sheridan, a leader of the Whig opposition, “Bonaparte has contended with princes without dignity, numbers without ardor, or peoples without patriotism. He has yet to learn what it is to combat a people who are animated by one spirit against him.” Tory and Whig alike held that “never had so happy an opportunity existed in Britain to strike a bold stroke for the rescue of the world”; and Canning at once resolved to change the system of desultory descents on colonies and sugar islands for a vigorous warfare in the Peninsula.
The furious and bloody struggle which ensued found its climax at Vittoria, but it would be difficult to find in the whole history of war a more thrilling chapter than that which tells of the six great campaigns of which the war itself was composed.
The Peninsular War was perhaps the least selfish conflict ever waged. It was not a war of aggrandizement or of conquest. It was fought to deliver Europe from the despotism of Napoleon. At its close the fleets of Great Britain rode triumphant, and in the Peninsula between 1808-14 her land forces fought and won nineteen pitched battles, made or sustained ten fierce and bloody sieges, took four great fortresses, twice expelled the French from Portugal and once from Spain. Great Britain expended in these campaigns more than one hundred million pounds sterling on her own troops, besides subsidizing the forces of Spain and Portugal. This “nation of shopkeepers” proved that when kindled to action it could wage war on a scale and in a fashion that might have moved the wonder of Alexander or of Cæsar, and from motives too lofty for either Cæsar or Alexander so much as to comprehend. It is worth while to tell afresh the story of some of the more picturesque incidents in that great strife.