Conspirators Strike

The evening of September 17, 1868 was dark and threatening on the southern coast of Spain.

Continuing 1868 Spanish Revolution,
our selection from his article in Great Events by Famous Historians, Volume 18 by William I Knapp published in 1905. The selection is presented in five easy 5 minute installments. For works benefiting from the latest research see the “More information” section at the bottom of these pages.

Previously in 1868 Spanish Revolution.

Time: 1868

July 3rd the court had left Madrid as usual for the season. First, they repaired to La Granja, officially called San Ildefonso. This is a Crown domain with palace and park and fountains, about forty miles northwest of the capital. It was established by Philip V, the first Bourbon King (1700-1746), to replace his accustomed Versailles. Frenchmen still call it Le petit Versailles. In August, Isabella left La Granja, with her ministers and suite, and passed over the mountain to the Escorial. Flitting messengers of evil seemed brooding over this retreat, and the manes of her fathers lurking in the dismal halls.

From this point the royal company moved quickly forward to the Cantabrian coast. In this same month of August, a similar scene was taking place in the Imperial Court of France. As Isabella travelled northward to her frontiers, so Napoleon III travelled southward to his. From Biarritz and from San Sebastian the two sovereigns could sit in their doors and survey each other’s dominions.

There was to be an alliance and a banquet. Intent on her policy, renewed at the opening of the year, Isabella was to agree to send to Rome thirty thousand Spanish troops, so that Napoleon might recall his army of occupation at the “opportune moment.” The opportune moment was to attack Germany. For this purpose the Emperor, Empress, and Prince Imperial were to accept a banquet at San Sebastian, in the Province of Guipuzcoa, on September 18th.

The energetic action of the Government in July was received in Spain with smiles of derision. For the first time the country perceived that O’Donnell and Narvaez were dead, and the Queen bereft indeed. By the moderation of Gonzalez Bravo the plans of the confederates had only been disturbed, not foiled. New ones had been concerted on the way to exile, under the very eyes and in the very ears of their captors.

The principals in the movement were now widely scattered. Serrano and other leading generals were on the islands of Teneriffe and the Grand Canary, four days ‘ sail from the Peninsula. Prim was in London, Topete in Cadiz, Malcampo on the Bay of Biscay, attending the Queen with the fleet. The first step of all was to gather in the Bay of Cadiz.

On September 6th and 8th, respectively, two swift steamers sailed, the one from Gravesend, England, and the other from Cadiz, bound for the group of islands lying off the west coast of Africa. Both had regular clearance as trading-vessels. On board the one was the brisk old General Milans del Bosch; and on the other, Lopez de Ayala, the speaker of the Spanish Assembly. Again, on the evening of the 10th a travelling carriage, emblazoned with a ducal coronet, might have been seen to dash down the Strand, in London, and, turning at the Somerset House, cross the Waterloo Bridge, whence it plunged into the South Western Railway station. A valet descended from the box, opened the door of the carriage, and guided his master and mistress to the waiting train. He was a short, wiry man of medium build, about fifty-three or fifty-four years of age. He was dressed in the full livery of an English servant, and though there was a foreign savor about his manner, he seemed at home in his role. He accommodated himself in a second-class coach, as became his caste, and the door was closed and locked by the guard. It was the last Indian mail, and the train flew over the fields and bridges of pleasant England, to the town of Southampton. It was the same at which Philip II had landed in 1554 when he came to marry Mary Tudor (“Bloody Mary”). But now our travelers, arrived at the wharf, soon disappeared from the deck of a large Peninsular and Oriental steamer about to cast off for Bombay. The names of the noble master and mistress need not be told; the valet was Don Juan Prim, Count of Reus and Marquis of Los Castillejos. The party was booked for Gibraltar.

The next morning an official-looking gentleman called at the residence of Prim in London. “Can I see the General?” said he to the servant. “You can, sir; be so good as to step into the library.” Presently the servant returned with the message that his master had gone out to the club to read the foreign journals. Satisfied, the emissary took his leave. That same day a cipher telegram was dispatched to the Spanish Government couched in in these words: “Prim is here.”

The three swift-winged messengers were on their way. Two, with their singular freight, were battling with the billows of the ocean, and one was skirting the sunny Andalusian shore between the white Chiclana and the foreland of Trafalgar.

The Delta arrived at Gibraltar on the evening of the 16th. Three men rowed to the shore and concealed themselves in a coal-barge. They were Prim, Sagasta, and Ruiz Zorrilla. In twenty – two days they were to be the Government of Spain. A fourth man (Angulo) appeared on the barge and received his instructions. The next morning, he entered the office of a well-known shipper and desired to charter a small steamer.

“What is the service?” demanded Mr. B.

“Secret service.”

“I cannot accommodate you without further explanations.”

“Well, then, I am authorized to say that General Prim is here, and tomorrow the squadron will rise at Cadiz.”

“Not a steamer only, but my person and my fortune are at your disposal,” responded the delighted son of the Rock.

The evening of September 17, 1868 was dark and threatening on the southern coast of Spain. The sun had slipped be neath the troubled clouds into the bosom of the Atlantic, casting back fitful glories against the towers and belvederes of the ancient city. The castle had fired the signal gun, and the echo of answering shots had slowly died away. Flag after flag had settled from the bastions, the forts, and the shipping in the harbor. The public promenades run along the broad sea – wall, and at eventide the traditional beauty and chivalry of Cadiz are there in picturesque type and costume. Here and there in the gloaming rise the shapeless hulks of monster war – ships. They have just arrived from the Biscay shore. From the side of one of them a bronze – hued light still throws a dim glow over the rising vapor of the funnel. The squadron is here. The Admiral is at his post, and seems to be anxiously waiting. The expected guests are nearing. There is a strange admixture of heroism and treason abroad in the night air — heroism and honor and popular acclaim, if all succeed; treason and obloquy and death, if all fail.

More information here and here, and below.

We want to take this site to the next level but we need money to do that. Please contribute directly by signing up at https://www.patreon.com/history