Queen Looses Main Supporters

The supports on which Isabella II had rested for so many years had vanished from her grasp in five short months and sunk into the mold of the tomb.

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

While we stood gazing and thinking on the Puerta del Sol a company of cavalry rode in from the farther end of the square, by the street that leads to the palace. Then an open landa drawn by six sleek and well-sheared mules advanced toward the spot where we stood. Mounted officers in showy uniform rode after on either side of the carriage. In it were Isabella and the Prince Consort on their way to the suburban church of Atocha. The royal pair sat with faces partly averted, and that of the Queen was the picture of hate and revenge. Not a soul of all the large company gathered on the great forum uncovered or uncloaked as she passed. Each one gazed steadily upon her in the provoking attitude of contempt. Ours were the only friendly manifestations, and they were justly interpreted as the neutrality of strangers.

We were again in Madrid at the opening of the historic year 1868. The month of January began with a public renewal of reaction. Her Majesty had resolved to support the temporal power of Rome against the encroachments of Italy and the contingencies of the hour. As an illustration of the mediaeval sort of eloquence indulged in by Congress, we will give an extract from the session of January 3rd. The question was on the reply to the usual Crown message. A man with a foxlike countenance arose and said:

I wish to say that we shall transmit to the throne of our august sovereign the expression of our profoundest satisfaction at the magnificent words by which she has exalted the sublime position she occupies ; by which she reminds Europe that she is proud to wear the glorious epithet of Catholic Queen ; by which she reminds Spain and the universe entire that she is seated on the throne of St. Ferdinand, of Isabella I, and of the great Philip, that right arm of Christianity.”

This effort of the respectable academician, Don Candido Nocedal, drew from the members present fervent cries of “Hear! Hear!” Poor Spain! she will never get over those one hundred years of prosperity she had from 1492 to 1598, the period when her chains were forged.

We have said that O’Donnell died at Biarritz the previous November. In April an event occurred that gave a new impulse to Spanish politics and startled the palace more than the nation. Narvaez, the Boanerges of the retrograde party, was no more! The arm on which mother and daughter had leaned for a quarter of a century, was withdrawn from the living.

The Cortes met and delivered their jeremiad over the remains of their fallen chieftain. In amount it was a sarcasm and a challenge ; in fact, it was a confession of defeat. “We shall retire from his coffin,” said one,

impressed with this single patriotic idea, that if the school of anarchy and tumult is eager to show its hand once more, in the conviction that, because there is no longer an O’Donnell or a Narvaez, the breach lies open and triumph secure, we shall be found standing shoulder to shoulder under the banner of order, liberty, and the throne.”

All through the speeches of that day the veteran Premier was represented as the type of moderation and the stanch protagonist of progress. He had even been heard to say a few days before that order had become so deeply inracinated, and its enemies been taught such severe lessons, he was intending ere long “to abandon the repressive policy and allow some slack to the tight rope.”

“Yes,” cried Castelar from his exile at Brussels, “for ye cannot long pull on a rotten cord.” The climax was reached by another speaker, who remarked that everybody knew Narvaez was a liberal man, and no one could deny it. No one was present to deny it, for the truly liberal parties had long since abstained from the national councils.

The supports on which Isabella II had rested for so many years had vanished from her grasp in five short months and sunk into the mold of the tomb. The political situation demanded generals, not the routine parasites of a court. As her friends had been growing into age, her foes had been ripening into manhood. The surviving military men were not on the side of the Crown. Prim was now in London; Topete at Cadiz; Serrano in Madrid, abiding his time. All was calm on the surface, but it was the sinister calm of foreboding.

Gonzalez Bravo was fixed on to succeed the Duke of Valencia -— a politician, after all, of the school of the stalwart Moderado. It was a fitting choice, for it was both natural and convenient that the first conservative Prime Minister of the Queen’s majority in 1843 should now come forward to witness the work of his party and attend the victim to exile. Isabella, bred in despotism and intrigue, knew not how to enter on a period of righteous government, or she knew it was too late. She had pledged her Crown to sustain the Holy Father against the cry of her people, and she resolved to stand by her traditional policy. Having chosen this ground before Narvaez’s death, she refused to yield a tittle to the new situation.

In the meantime, a spirit of conciliation pervaded all parties outside the immediate entourage of the palace. Suddenly, on July 7th, a detonation fell on the summer air, and a strong arm intervened. All the leading generals of the confederated parties, all over Spain, were arrested at break of day and thrown into prison. At the same time the Duke and Duchess of Montpensier were invited to proceed at once to Lisbon. The prisoners, among whom were Serrano, Caballero de Rodas, Cordova, and Dulce, were soon hurried off to Cadiz, and thence to the Canary Islands, or to other remote fortresses of the realm.

The Montpensiers were slow to leave their pleasant palace of St. Elmo and the cool shades of their gardens by the Guadalquivir, within sight of the Alcazar, the Cathedral, and the graceful Giralda. But the order was peremptory, and on the 16th they were transported to Lisbon on a ship-of-war.

This vigorous action was not inopportune. The conspiracy, brought to naught by the Cabinet, five days after the departure of the court for the country, involved a serious program. It was no less an affair than the abduction of the royal family by night, and the proclamation of Montpensier as King. This scheme had only the Union Liberal with it — men like Serrano and Topete; and it is probable that the authorities obtained the clue to the project from disaffected “Progressists.” Thus the new Government was inaugurated. At the moment the preparations were complete and the tocsin about to sound, the hand that was to be smitten smote, and all was changed.

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