It only remains2 that we should deal shortly with the higher politics of Spain during the last months of 1810—the troubles of King Joseph, and the complications caused by the meeting of the Cortes at Cadiz.
Of the growing friction3 between the King and the commanders of the ‘military governments’ created by the Emperor in February, we have already spoken[609]. Joseph did well to be angry when his dispatches to Saragossa or Barcelona were deliberately5 disregarded by his brother’s special orders. But things became worse, when he was not merely ignored, but openly contemned7. A few examples may suffice. In the early summer a brigade sent out by Marshal Ney raided the province of Avila, which was not included in any of the military governments, raised requisitions there, and—what was still more insulting—seized and carried off the treasure in the offices of the civil intendant-general of the province[610]. Joseph wrote to Paris that ‘the Emperor cannot be desirous that his own brother—however unworthy—should be openly humiliated9 and insulted; that he asked for justice, and abstained10 from any further comment’[611]. Napoleon replied by placing Avila in the block of provinces allotted11 to the Army of Portugal, and withdrew it for the time from the King’s authority. It was soon after that he created Kellermann’s new ‘military government’ of Valladolid, thus taking another region from under the direct authority of Joseph. Some months later Kellermann asserted the complete independence of his viceroyalty, by causing the[p. 506] judges of the high-court of Old Castile, which sat at Valladolid, to take a new oath of allegiance to the Emperor of the French, as if they had ceased to be subjects of the kingdom of Spain[612]. Soult, too, continued, as has been shown before, to cut off all revenues which the King might have received from Andalusia, and Joseph’s financial position became even worse than it had been in 1809[613].
The summary of his complaints, containing a declaration that he wished to surrender his crown to the Emperor, was drawn12 up as the autumn drew near; it deserves a record; it is absolutely reasonable, and confines itself to hard facts. ‘Since Your Majesty13 withdraws Andalusia from my sphere of command, and orders that the revenues of that province should be devoted14 exclusively to military expenses, I have no choice left but to throw up the game. In the actual state of affairs in Spain the general who commands each province is a king therein. The whole revenues of the province will never suffice to keep him; for what he calls his “absolute necessities” have never been formally stated, and as the revenues rise he augments15 his “necessities.” Hence it results that any province under the command of a general is useless for my budget. From Andalusia alone I hoped to get a certain surplus, after all military expenses had been paid. But its command is given over to a general who would never recognize my authority; and with the command, he gets the administrative16 and governmental rights. Thus I have been stripped of the only region which could have given me a sufficient maintenance. I am reduced to Madrid [i.e. New Castile], which yields 800,000 francs per mensem, while the indispensable expenses of the central government amount to 4,000,000 francs per mensem. I have around me the wrecks17 of what was once a great national administration, with a guard, the dép?ts and hospital of the army, a garrison18, a royal household, a ministry19, a council of state, and the refugees from the rebel provinces. This state of affairs could not endure for two months longer, even if my honour, and the consciousness of what is due to me, would allow me to remain[p. 507] in this humiliating position. Since the Army of Andalusia has been taken from me, what am I? The manager of the hospitals and magazines of Madrid, the head jailer of the central dép?t of prisoners!’ Joseph then states his conditions. If he is allowed (1) to have a real control over the whole army; (2) to send back to France officers, of whatever rank, notoriously guilty of maladministration; (3) to reassure20 his Spanish partisans21 as to rumours22 current concerning his own forced abdication24 and the dismemberment of the monarchy25; (4) to issue what proclamations he pleases to his subjects, without being placed under a sort of censorship, he will retain his crown, and pledge himself to reduce all Spain, and ‘make the country as profitable to the interests of France as it is now detrimental26.’ If not, he must consider the question of retiring across the Pyrenees and surrendering his crown[614].
Napoleon could not give any such promises, and for good reasons: he rightly distrusted his brother’s military ability, and knew that—whatever was the title given to Joseph—men like Soult or Masséna would disregard his orders. Apparently27 he considered that a conflict of authorities in Spain, such as had been existing for the last six months, was at least better than the concentration of power in the hands of one indifferent commander-in-chief. It is doubtful whether he did not err28 in his conclusion. Almost anything was better than the existing anarchy29, tempered by orders, six weeks late, from Paris. But a second, and a more fatal, objection to granting Joseph’s conditions was that the ‘rumours current concerning the dismemberment of the Spanish monarchy’ were absolutely true. Napoleon was at this moment at the very height of his wild craze for adding alien and heterogeneous30 provinces to the French Empire, in the supposed interest of the Continental31 System. It was in 1810 that he declared Holland and the Valais, Hamburg and Bremen, Oldenburg and Dalmatia, integral parts of his dominions32. And Northern Spain was destined33 to suffer the same fate. Mina and Rovira, Eroles and Manso, were to wake some morning to find themselves French subjects! On October 12 the Emperor wrote to Berthier: ‘You will inform General Caffarelli, in strict confidence, that[p. 508] my intention is that Biscay shall be united to France. He must not speak of this intention, but he must act with full knowledge of it. Make the same private communication to General Reille about Navarre[615].’ Aragon, or at least the portion of it north of the Ebro, and Catalonia were to suffer the same fate. Already justice was administered there in the name of the Emperor, not in that of the King of Spain, and a coinage was being struck at Barcelona which no longer bore the name of ‘Joseph Napoleon King of Spain and the Indies[616].’
The line of argument which Napoleon adopted with regard to this proposed annexation34 is very curious. His directions to his Foreign Minister, Champagny, run as follows[617]: ‘Herewith I send you back the Spanish documents with six observations, which are to serve as the base for negotiation36. But it is important that you should broach37 the matter gently. You must first state clearly what are my opinions on the Convention of Bayonne [viz. that the Emperor regards his guarantee of the integrity of Spain as out of date and cancelled]. Then speak of Portugal[618], and next of the expense that this country [Spain] costs me. Then let the Spanish envoys38 have time to reflect, and only after an interval39 of some days tell them that I must have the left bank of the Ebro, as an indemnity40 for the money and all else that Spain has cost me down to this hour. I think that, as in all negotiations41, we must not show ourselves too much in a hurry.’ The mention of Portugal means that the Emperor contemplated42 making his brother a present of the Lusitanian realm, where Spain was hated only one degree less than France, as a compensation for Catalonia and the rest. On the same morning that Mina found himself a Frenchman, all[p. 509] the Ordenan?a of the Beira hills were to discover that they were Castilians! Mad disregard of national feeling could go no further.
A letter to the French ambassador at Madrid explained at much greater length the Emperor’s reasons for breaking the oath that he had sworn to his brother at Bayonne, when he named him King of Spain. ‘When the promise was made, His Majesty had supposed that he had rallied to his cause the majority of the Spanish nation. This has proved not to be the case: the whole people took arms, the new king had to fly from Madrid, and was only restored by French bayonets. Since then he has hardly rallied a recruit to his cause; it is not the King’s own levies44 that have fought the rebels: it is the 400,000 French sent across the Pyrenees who have conquered every province. Therefore all these regions belong not to the King, but to the Emperor, by plain right of conquest. He intends, for this reason, to regard the Treaty of Bayonne as null; it has never been ratified45 by the Spanish nation. One only chance remains to the King: let him prevail upon the newly-assembled Cortes at Cadiz to acknowledge him as their sovereign, and to break with England. If that can be done, the Emperor may revert46 to his first intentions, and ratify47 the Treaty of Bayonne, except that he must insist on a “rectification of frontiers sufficient to give him certain indispensable positions”’—presumably San Sebastian, Pampeluna, Figueras, Rosas, &c.[619]
The mere6 first rumour23 of his brother’s intentions, transmitted by Almenara and the Duke of Santa-Fé, his ambassadors ordinary and extraordinary at Paris, drove Joseph to despair. ‘The Spanish nation,’ he wrote[620], ‘is more compact in its opinions, its prejudices, its national egotism, than any other people of Europe. There are no Catholics and Protestants here, no new and old Spaniards; and they will all suffer themselves to be hewn in pieces rather than allow the realm to be dismembered. What would the inhabitants of the counties round London say if they were menaced with being declared no longer English? What would Proven?als or Languedocians say if they were told[p. 510] that they were to cease to be Frenchmen? My only chance here is to be authorized48 to announce that the promise that Spain should not be dismembered will be kept. If that is granted, and the generals who have misbehaved are recalled to France, all may be repaired. If not, the only honourable49 course for me is to retire into private life, as my conscience bids me, and honour demands.’ On November 18, after having received more formal news of the Emperor’s intentions from his envoys, Joseph declared that the die was cast: he would return to his castle of Mortefontaine, or to any other provincial50 abode51 in France that he could afford to purchase, as soon as his brother’s resolve was made public.
Yet the crisis never came to a head. The annexation of the Ebro provinces was never published, though private assurances of their impending52 fate were laid before the Spanish ministers and the King. What caused the Emperor to hesitate, when all was prepared? The answer may be found in his dispatch to Laforest on November 7: ‘I need hardly warn you,’ he writes, ‘that these insinuations (the ultimatum53 to the King) are to be made only on condition that the French army has entered Lisbon, and that the English have taken to their ships.’ And again, ‘The Emperor is acting54 in sincerity55: if in reality the capture of Lisbon, and an offer from the cabinet of Madrid, might possibly decide the rebels to treat, His Majesty might consent, &c., &c.’ It was the Lines of Torres Vedras which saved King Joseph from abdication and Spain from dismemberment. The evacuation of Portugal by Wellington was the indispensable preliminary to the carrying out of the great annexation scheme: its completion was deferred56 till the ominous57 silence of Masséna should be ended by a triumphant58 dispatch proclaiming the capture of Lisbon. Since that dispatch never came, Napoleon kept postponing59 his ultimatum. Then followed the news, delivered at Paris by Foy on November 21, showing that Masséna had been brought to a standstill. Even then the Emperor’s plan was kept back, not abandoned. It was not till the Army of Portugal had recoiled60 in despair and disarray61 to the banks of the Coa that Napoleon abandoned his cherished scheme, and consented to treat with his brother on reasonable terms. But Joseph’s visit to Paris in the spring of 1811 and[p. 511] its consequences belong to another chapter of this history. It must suffice here to point out that he spent all the winter of 1810-11 in a state of mental anguish62, expecting every day to be forced to publish his abdication[621], and, meanwhile, living a life of shifts and worries—selling his last silver plate to feed his courtiers[622], and exchanging an endless correspondence of remonstrances63 and insinuations with Soult and the commanders of the ‘military governments’ of the North[623]. Even from the military point of view he did not consider himself safe; the Empecinado and other guerrillero chiefs carried their incursions up to the very gates of Madrid; and La Mancha, from which, by the Emperor’s orders, much cavalry64 had been withdrawn65 for the benefit of Soult[624], was frequently raided by detachments from Blake’s Army of Murcia. ‘à chaque instant du jour et de la nuit,’ wrote the unhappy sovereign, ‘je suis exposé à monter à cheval pour défendre ma vie contre les bandes exaspérées des insurgés, qui entourent Madrid: cette ville est aux avant-postes[625].’
Meanwhile, the other government which claimed to be the legal representative of Spanish nationality was even more truly ‘aux avant-postes.’ The Cortes had assembled at Cadiz, where the booming of the French cannon66 was perpetually heard, and where an occasional shell from Villantroys’ celebrated67 mortars68 would plump harmlessly into the sand of the Peninsula or the outskirts69 of the town itself. The Cortes had opened its sessions on September 24, though less than half its members had assembled. The difficulty of collecting them had been very great, since all had to arrive by sea, and many had to come from regions very remote, such as Asturias, Galicia, or Catalonia. The assembly could not be called satisfactory or repre[p. 512]sentative. The scheme drawn up for its election by the commission that had sat in the preceding winter was complicated. There was to be a deputy for every 50,000 souls throughout Spain; but the form of selection was indirect: the villages chose each one primary elector; the primary electors met at the chief town of the district to choose a second body of secondary electors; the secondary electors chose a final committee for the whole province (Junta70 provincial electoral) and these last, aided by the Governor, Archbishop, and Intendant of the province, nominated the deputies. But this complicated system could only work in the regions which were in the hands of the patriots72. Only Valencia, Murcia, Estremadura, the Balearic Isles73, and Galicia were wholly free at the moment. In Catalonia the capital, Barcelona, and large tracts74 of the country were occupied by the French. In the Asturias three-quarters of the province were held down by Bonnet75. The two Castiles, Andalusia (excepting Cadiz), Biscay, Navarre, Leon, and Aragon were entirely76 or almost entirely in the hands of the enemy. The delegates supposed to represent them were either chosen in hole-and-corner meetings of insurgent77 juntas78 lurking79 in some remote fastness, or—where even this semblance80 of local election was not possible—by nomination81 by the Regency, or in wholly casual assemblies of the natives of those districts who chanced to be in Cadiz at the time. The representatives of Madrid, for example, were chosen in this fashion by the body of exiles from that city meeting in the spacious82 courtyard of a large public building[626]. The result of this informal and irregular method of choice was that many provinces purported83 to be represented by deputies who had no real local influence therein, but had chanced to commend themselves to the insurgent juntas, or to the persons—in some cases a mere handful—who happened to have fled from that particular region to Cadiz. It is said that the very names, and much more the persons, of a good many of the deputies were absolutely unknown to their supposed constituents84. Most of all was this the case with the members of the Cortes who were supposed to represent Spanish America. It had been decreed by the late Central Junta that the colonies formed[p. 513] an integral part of the Spanish monarchy, and were therefore entitled to representation. But the modest number of twenty-six members allotted to them were elected at Cadiz, by a committee of Americans nominated by the Regency from those who happened to be resident in that town. Most of the deputies were out of touch with the people beyond the seas, of whom they were theoretically the delegates.
This fact was specially85 unfortunate when the first symptoms of discontent and sedition86 in Buenos Ayres, Mexico, and the Caraccas had begun to show themselves. Though few realized it as yet, the insurrection of Spanish America was just about to break forth87. The least foreseen of all the results of Napoleon’s aggressions in Old Spain was that the colonies, which had been called upon to take their part in the national war against the French, and had been promised a share in the administration of the empire, should accept the show of freedom and equality that was offered in a serious spirit. The Americans demanded that they should no longer be treated as subjects and tributaries88 of the mother country, but recognized as possessing rights and interests of their own, which must be taken into consideration when the general governance of the dominions of Ferdinand VII was in question. And these rights and interests included not only a claim to such self-government as other Spanish provinces possessed89, but a demand that their commercial and economic needs should no longer be subordinated to the convenience of the mother country. The colonies could not see why the monopoly of all their trade should be left in the hands of the merchants of Old Spain. They wished to traffic on their own account with Great Britain and the United States. This claim was one which no inhabitant of Old Spain could view with equanimity90. The monopoly of South American commerce had always been believed to be the most essential item in the greatness of the realm. It had been preserved almost as strictly91 in the eighteenth century as in the seventeenth or sixteenth. The old Asiento, which gave Great Britain a minute share in that commerce, had been conceived to be a humiliation92 and a disgrace to the king who granted it. Spain had fought more than once to preserve the American monopoly—it is only necessary to allude93 to the war of[p. 514] ‘Jenkins’s Ear’ to show what she was prepared to face in its defence.
And now, when the mother country was in such desperate straits, the questions of American self-government and American trade were raised in the crudest form. Great Britain had provoked the distrust of her Spanish allies by many of her acts, even when they were done in good faith and with no ulterior motive94. But the most irritating of all was the request, which had been already made more than once in a tentative fashion, for a measure of free trade with South America. Wellington had recommended that the point should not be pressed, when Spain was in her extremity95; but it was inevitable96 that since nearly all British subjects, and nearly all Americans, were desirous to see the old barriers removed, the question should crop up again and again. The opening of the American trade was the only return that Spain could make for the aid that Great Britain had now been giving her for more than two years of war. When Canning in 1809 wrote that ‘in questions of commerce any proper occasion must be used to recommend a more enlarged and liberal policy than has hitherto been acted upon in Spain,’ it is easy to see what was in his mind. The ministers in power in 1810 were mostly of the same opinion. But to ask for free trade with America in the year when Hidalgo was making his first rising in Mexico, and the cabildos on the Rio de la Plata were quietly substituting municipal self-government for the ancient autocratic rule of their viceroys, was to provoke acute suspicion. In 1806-7 Great Britain had backed Miranda and other colonial separatists, either with the hope of getting a footing for herself in South America, or at least with that of establishing republics which would grant her all the commercial privileges that she asked. The successive Spanish governments of 1808-10 could never convince themselves that the scheme had been completely dropped, and mistook British demands for open trade with America for a desire to sever97 the discontented colonies from their mother country. The most unpopular act of the Regency of 1810 was their decree of May 7, issued, as all Spaniards held, in base subservience98 to their allies, which had granted England and Portugal a certain limited right of exchanging their products[p. 515] with the colonies, on paying the heavy customs-due of ten and a half or fifteen and a half per cent[627]. So great was the cry raised against it in Cadiz that the Regency was cowardly enough to cancel it on June 22, under the pretext99 that it had not been ratified in a session at which all its members were present!
But it was not the American question alone which lay as a source of danger before the newly-assembled Cortes, nor was it the American deputies alone who misrepresented their constituents. Speaking in general, it may be said that the whole assembly showed a disproportionate number of liberals, when the relative numbers of the democratic and the conservative parties throughout Spain were taken into consideration. The events of the next ten years were to show that the Serviles, as their opponents called them, were really in a majority in the whole country-side and in many towns. If that had not been so, Ferdinand VII could not have restored autocratic government with such ease when the Peninsular War was over. Reactionaries100 of the blackest dye, who would have liked to restore the Inquisition, and would have put back the press into the shackles101 which it had endured before 1807, were probably in a clear majority in the nation. The clerical interest was in many ways the mainstay of the War of Independence, and the clergy102, with very few exceptions, would gladly have gone back to the system of the eighteenth century[628]. The majority of the old official class sympathized with them, and the peasantry were almost everywhere under their control. On the other hand, the liberals, if all shades of them were reckoned together, had a clear majority in the Cortes, both because the regions which were properly represented in that assembly chanced to be those in which they were most numerous, and because they had secured a disproportionate number of the seats belonging to the lost provinces, which had been filled up by more or less fictitious103 elections within the walls of Cadiz. That town itself was the least conservative place in Spain, and the refugees who had served as electors because they happened to be on the[p. 516] spot, were not drawn from the bulk of the population—were neither priests nor peasants,—but mainly came from those sections of the upper and middle classes where liberal opinions had made more progress.
The Cortes on the whole was a democratic body: Spain, on the whole, was reactionary104. The number of those who hated Napoleon because they regarded him as the enemy of the Church, the jailer of the Pope, and the breaker-up of old laws, was much greater than that of those who hated him because he was the embodiment of autocracy105, and the foe106 of all free self-government. Intense national pride was common to both parties, and all could unite against a foe whose aim was the dismemberment of Spain. But the union was made difficult by the fact that men who had imbibed107, more or less consciously, some of the ‘Principles of 1789’ had to co-operate with men who looked back on the régime of Philip II as a Golden Age. ‘I can see no prospect108 of Liberty behind the crowd of priests who everywhere stand foremost to take the lead of our patriots. I cannot look for any direct advantage from the feeling which prompts the present resistance to Napoleon, as it arises chiefly from an inveterate109 attachment110 to the religious system whence our present degradation111 takes source. If the course of events enables us to attempt a political reform, it will be by grafting112 the feeble shoots of Liberty upon the stock of Catholicism, an experiment which has hitherto, and must ever, prove abortive’ wrote a desponding Liberal[629]. How could the writer of such words and his friends work cordially in company with such fanatics113 as the Estremaduran deputy who, in one of the earlier sessions of the Cortes, proposed the astonishing motion that, in spite of all that had happened since 1807, ‘the Inquisition remains in full possession of its ancient authority, and can make free use of all the powers which it has ever enjoyed in the past[630].’ There were others who objected to the use of the dangerous word ‘constitution,’ and even to the phrase las leyes de Espa?a, as implying an authority independent of the crown[631].
[p. 517]
When it is remembered that the form in which the Cortes had been summoned was new and experimental, that the elections had been—even according to that form—irregular, that no single member was accustomed to parliamentary usages, that the parties represented in it held views of the most divergent kinds, the wonder is not that the assembly displayed many weaknesses, but that it did no worse. Observers of a pessimistic frame of mind had feared that it would break up altogether after a few stormy sittings. ‘It was too full,’ wrote the regent Lardizabal, ‘of youths, and of men who yesterday were mere adventurers, without any practice in command, knowledge of business, or experience of the world. Whole provinces were represented by deputies whom they had not chosen, and were expected to conform to a constitution, and to accept sweeping114 reforms, made by men to whom they had given no mandate115, faculty116, or authority to take such changes into consideration. For neither the Regency, nor even the King, had the legal right to nominate deputies: no one could choose them save the provinces or cities which were integral parts of the nation, and no one could claim to represent a province save the men to whom that same province had given powers, and instructions to act in conformity117 with its wishes.’
This motley assembly, so many of whose members were of doubtful legitimacy118, held its opening session on September 24, 1810. The meeting-place was not within the walls of Cadiz itself, but in the large suburban119 town of La Isla, in the centre of the great island of Leon, which forms the outwork of the city. It was hoped that the six miles which separated its sitting-place from Cadiz would prevent interruption by popular demonstrations120, such as had been so pernicious to the French chamber121 during the Revolution. The Cortes had as their home the large but bare theatre of San Fernando, which had been roughly fitted up with benches and tribunes. After high mass had been celebrated by the old Cardinal122 Bourbon, the only male member of the royal family who was not in captivity123[632], the Regency declared the session opened, and then withdrew, after[p. 518] a brief speech by the Senior Regent, the Bishop71 of Orense, who bade the assembly constitute itself in due form and elect its president and secretaries.
This was done with no delay; the president chosen was a Catalan, Ramón Lazaro de Dou, while the two secretaries were Evaristo Perez de Castro and Manuel Lujan. Both of them were well known to entertain Liberal opinions, and their choice marked the predominance of their party in the Cortes. Sitting till midnight was long past, the assembly passed six decrees drawn up by Mu?oz Torrero, one of the few clerical deputies who held Liberal views, and Manuel Lujan. By these the Cortes declared itself in possession of supreme124 power in the State, but resolved that, of the three branches of authority—the legislative125, the executive, and the judicial126—it intended to take only the first-named under its own charge, handing over the executive to the late Regency, and the judicial to the ordinary courts of law. The Regency should be responsible to the Cortes for all its acts of administration, and liable to be called to account. It was ordered to make an instant oath of obedience127 to the assembly, ‘recognizing the sovereignty of the nation represented by the deputies of this general and extraordinary Cortes.’ This Casta?os and the other regents did with an ill grace, all save the Bishop of Orense, who misliked the oath, contending that its terms spoke4 of the nation as being sovereign in its own right, without consideration of the King’s indefeasible majesty[633]. He would not swear, and so vacated his place. He did not lose much by his early dismissal, for on October 28 the Cortes abruptly128 deposed129 his four colleagues—Casta?os, Lardizabal, Saavedra, and Esca?o—and replaced them by a new Regency of three members. These were Joaquim Blake, that most unlucky of generals; Admiral Cisgar, then commanding the Cartagena squadron, who passed as an able administrator130; and an obscure naval131 captain, Pedro Agar, of whom little was known save that he was American born, and might, therefore, theoretically represent the colonies. The[p. 519] change in regents was decidedly for the worse as far as character and ability went. Apparently the Cortes were jealous of an administration whose power was older than their own, and had not originally been created by them. They wished to have an executive more entirely dependent on themselves. Some of the Liberals pretended that the old regents were plotting to hold a sort of ‘Pride’s Purge’ of the Cortes, and to restore themselves to power. But of this no proof was ever given[634]. Considering the difficult times which they had passed through, and their well-intentioned if rather feeble attempt to serve the state, Casta?os and his colleagues deserved a better fate than arbitrary dismissal, without thanks, and with a tacit accusation132 of treason laid to their charge.
Between the time of the first assembly of the Cortes and the change in the Regency an infinite number of subjects had been dealt with. The Liberal majority, led by Agustin Argüelles, had decreed liberty of the Press in all political discussions, but very illogically refused it for discussions on matters of religion. They had abolished all feudal133 rights and privileges of nobility. They passed a decree of amnesty for all rebels in America who should lay down their arms, and proposed many projects for improving the position of the Colonies, few of which, unfortunately, happened to bear any relation to the chief grievances134 under which the South Americans conceived themselves to be labouring. The insurrection still went on, and, though the mother country was placed in such a desperate condition, troops were actually withdrawn from the Murcian army to sail with General Elio, who was directed to restore order at Buenos Ayres and in the provinces of the Rio de la Plata. Discussions continued, with much heat and a considerable amount of eloquence135, on many other points, during the early days of the Junta. The subjects of debate were generally constitutional, occasionally financial. It was worthy8 to be observed that the two topics on which all the deputies rallied together were the question of opposition136 to the French, and the question of the defence of their own sovereign rights. Even the majority of[p. 520] the Serviles would join with the Liberals whenever any doubt was raised with regard to the right of the Cortes to arrogate137 to itself the title of Majesty or the attributes of supreme power. When, for example, the Bishop of Orense refused to take the oath of obedience, several clericals of most reactionary views took part against him; and when a few weeks later the Marqués del Palacio, named as a deputy-regent during the absence of Blake, also displayed reluctance138 to swear to the same form on similar grounds, he did not receive the report that he had expected from the reactionaries. Indeed, he was put under arrest for some time, without, as it seems, any attempt to protect him being made by the Serviles. Like the Bishop of Orense, he ended by swallowing his scruples139 and accepting the prescribed formula[635].
A similar desire to assert its own absolute supremacy140 impelled141 the Cortes to refuse to countenance142 two dynastic intrigues143 which came from different quarters. The eldest145 daughter of Charles IV, Carlotta, Princess of the Brazils and wife of the Regent Jo?o of Portugal, was the nearest of kin1 to Ferdinand VII who had escaped Napoleon’s claws in 1808. She was of opinion that she had a good right to expect the Regency during her brother’s captivity at Valen?ay, and her agents repeatedly urged her claims, both during the days of the first Regency and after the Cortes had assembled. Sousa-Holstein, the Portuguese146 ambassador, naturally lent them his aid, and she had Spanish partisans, though few of them were persons of good reputation. Yet, by constant persuasion147 and promises, Carlotta’s representatives actually succeeded in inducing great numbers of the deputies to pledge themselves to push her interests. It is said that, at one time or another, a full half of the members had given the intriguers encouragement. But to do this, and to make a formal attempt to pass a decree conferring the Regency on her, were very different things. When overt148 action was urged by her agents, or their partisans in the Cortes, nothing came of the attempt. The assembly was naturally unwilling149 to surrender its own sovereignty, and to introduce a court and its intrigues into Cadiz. It must be added that Jo?o of Portugal had no liking150 for his wife[p. 521]’s scheme, that Wellington saw its disadvantages[636], and that the great bulk of the Spaniards would have resented the whole affair, as a Portuguese intrigue144, if it had ever been laid before the nation as a definite proposal.
The second dynastic scheme which was running its course at this time was engineered by another branch of the Spanish royal house. The restless and unscrupulous Queen Caroline of Sicily could not forget that if Carlotta of Portugal was the nearest relative of the captive King, yet her husband Ferdinand was his nearest male kinsman151, save the princes in Napoleon’s hands. She availed herself of this fact to urge that one of her children would be a very suitable person to be entrusted152 with power in Spain, and thought of her younger son Prince Leopold as a possible candidate for the Regency. But since he had not the necessary reputation or age, the Queen soon fell back upon her son-in-law Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, the exiled son of the infamous153 Philippe égalité. He had not only a good military record for his services at Jemappes and elsewhere in the early Belgian campaigns, but was universally known as a man of ability. Unfortunately, he had fought on the Republican side in 1792—a thing hard to forget, and certain to cause suspicion: and his ability was always displayed for purposes of self-interest, and savoured of unscrupulousness.
Nevertheless, Orleans had already made overtures154 to the old Regency in the spring of 1810, and had been promised by them a command on the borders of Catalonia. They had failed to keep the pledge, and he now appeared at Cadiz, and wished to present himself before the Cortes and plead his cause. He took small profit thereby155, for the assembly regarded him and his relatives as suspicious persons, refused to give him an audience when he presented himself before its doors, and politely but firmly insisted that he should return to Sicily in a few days—an order which he was forced to obey. ‘Whether it was that he was a Frenchman, though a Bourbon, or whether it was that he had once been a Republican, though he had ceased to be one, or whether it was that he was a prince of[p. 522] the royal house, and therefore distasteful to the newly-assembled Cortes, who were secretly inclined to democratic views, the majority viewed him with disfavour[637].’ On October 3 he set sail for Palermo.
At the end of 1810 we leave the Cortes still indulging in fiery156 constitutional debates, still busy in asserting its own supreme power, and curbing157 many attempts at self-assertion in the new Regency which it had created. With the English government it was not on the best of terms: though it decreed the erection of a statue to George III as the friend and deliverer of Spain—a monument which (it need hardly be said) was never erected—it was very slow to seek or follow the advice of the allied43 power. It clamoured for subsidies158, but refused the opening of the South American trade—the only return that could be given for them. Money in hard gold or silver Great Britain could no longer supply—for the years 1810-11 were those when the paper-issues of the Bank were our sole currency; cash had almost disappeared, and could only be procured160 by offering six pounds or more in notes for five guineas. But the Spaniards did not want paper, but gifts or loans in gold or silver. They got no more of the precious metals—Great Britain had none to spare, and found it almost impossible even to procure159 dollars to pay Wellington’s army in Portugal. All that was given after 1809 was arms and munitions161 of war.
English observers in the Peninsula were not well pleased with the first months of the rule of the Cortes. ‘The natural course of all popular assemblies,’ wrote Wellington to his brother, Henry Wellesley, now minister at Cadiz, ‘and of the Spanish Cortes among others, is to adopt democratic principles, and to vest all the powers of the State in their own body. This assembly must take care that they do not run in that tempting162 course, as the wishes of the nation are decidedly for monarchy. Inclination163 to any other form of government would immediately deprive them of the confidence of the people, and they would become a worse government, and more impotent, because more numerous, than the old Central Junta.’ A few weeks later he doubted whether even a Regency under Carlotta of[p. 523] Portugal, with all its disadvantages, would not be better than mere democracy[638].
Vaughan, on the spot at Cadiz, gave quite a different view of the situation, but one equally unfavourable to the Cortes as a governing power. ‘It is full of priests, who (united with the Catalans) are for preserving the old routine, and adverse164 to everything that can give energy and vigour165 to the operation of government. Fanaticism166 and personal interest direct their opinions.... Be assured that the Cortes is, as at present constituted, anything but revolutionary or Jacobinical.... If there is not soon some new spirit infused into it, it will become an overgrown Junta, meddling167 with every paltry168 detail of police, and neglecting the safety of the country—and the Regency will be content to reign35 (very badly) over Cadiz and the Isla[639].’
There was much truth in both these verdicts, though Vaughan underrated the force of self-interest in driving a popular assembly to claim all power for itself, while Wellington underrated the dead-weight of clerical conservatism, which was the restraint upon that tendency. Both were right in asserting that, whatever the Cortes might be, the mass of the nation had no wish to set out on the path of Jacobinism. They both perceived the danger that the Cortes might turn itself into a constitutional debating society, and at the same time prevent any really efficient executive from being established. Such was its actual fate. Except that Spain now possessed a governing authority which, with all its faults, had infinitely169 more pretension170 to claim a legal mandate from the people than any of its predecessors171, the situation was not greatly changed. From the military point of view, as we shall see in the next volume, the aspect of the Peninsula was in no degree improved. The same blunders that had marked the administration of the old Provincial Juntas, of the Supreme Central Junta, and of the first Regency, continued to exhibit themselves under the rule of the Cortes.
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1
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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contemned
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| v.侮辱，蔑视( contemn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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augments
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| 增加，提高，扩大( augment的名词复数 ) | |
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administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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abdication
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| n.辞职；退位 | |
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monarchy
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| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
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detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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anarchy
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| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
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heterogeneous
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| adj.庞杂的；异类的 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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annexation
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| n.吞并，合并 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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negotiation
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| n.谈判，协商 | |
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broach
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| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
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envoys
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| 使节( envoy的名词复数 )； 公使； 谈判代表； 使节身份 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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40
indemnity
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| n.赔偿，赔款，补偿金 | |
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negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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42
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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44
levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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45
ratified
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| v.批准，签认（合约等）( ratify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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47
ratify
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| v.批准，认可，追认 | |
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48
authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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50
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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51
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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52
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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54
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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55
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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56
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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57
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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postponing
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| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
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60
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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62
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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64
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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65
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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66
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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68
mortars
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| n.迫击炮( mortar的名词复数 )；砂浆；房产；研钵 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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junta
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| n.团体；政务审议会 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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insurgent
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| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
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juntas
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| n.以武力政变上台的军阀( junta的名词复数 ) | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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81
nomination
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| n.提名，任命，提名权 | |
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82
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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83
purported
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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85
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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sedition
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| n.煽动叛乱 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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tributaries
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| n. 支流 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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92
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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98
subservience
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| n.有利，有益；从属（地位），附属性；屈从，恭顺；媚态 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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reactionaries
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| n.反动分子，反动派( reactionary的名词复数 ) | |
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101
shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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102
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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103
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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104
reactionary
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| n.反动者，反动主义者；adj.反动的，反动主义的，反对改革的 | |
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105
autocracy
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| n.独裁政治，独裁政府 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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108
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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109
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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111
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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grafting
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| 嫁接法，移植法 | |
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113
fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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114
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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115
mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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116
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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117
conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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118
legitimacy
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| n.合法，正当 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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121
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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122
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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123
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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124
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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125
legislative
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| n.立法机构，立法权；adj.立法的，有立法权的 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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127
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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129
deposed
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| v.罢免( depose的过去式和过去分词 )；（在法庭上）宣誓作证 | |
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130
administrator
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| n.经营管理者，行政官员 | |
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131
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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arrogate
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| v.冒称具有...权利，霸占 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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146
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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overt
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| adj.公开的，明显的，公然的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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curbing
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| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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158
subsidies
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| n.补贴，津贴，补助金( subsidy的名词复数 ) | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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161
munitions
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| n.军火，弹药；v.供应…军需品 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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165
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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166
fanaticism
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| n.狂热，盲信 | |
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167
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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168
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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169
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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170
pretension
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| n.要求；自命，自称；自负 | |
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171
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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