f1 ^?# M^ (J/ m ^^^M P ;^p^^^r-l ^11 '% ^s^ I kJ<\ THE ROMANCE OF ROYALTY . VOL. 1. ,==..Acce^eonarcb 29 Flying Dutchman. Despairing of getting these pro- duced in Paris, and hoping to find acceptance for them in Munich, Leipzig, or Berlin, he left France in the spring of 1842. After many weary delays and trying disappointments, Rienzi was produced in Dresden in the October of that year, when notwith- standing that it lasted six hours, it was an assured success. Suddenly his fortunes seemed changed. " I, who had hitherto been lonely, deserted, homeless, suddenly found myself loved, admired, by many even regarded with wonderment," says he. The pubHc were now willing to hear another opera by this composer, and ten weeks later The Flying Dutchman was placed on the stage. It was not, however, nearly so successful as its predecessor, and three more years of endeavour were passed before he could obtain a hearing for 'Tannhduser on October 19th, 1845. Strange to say that this work appealed only to a few intimate friends, and not to the general public. Those who first heard it left the theatre in a state of confusion and dis- appointment, which the composer says had the effect of overwhelming him with disappointment, adding, " The few friends who heartily sympathised with me were themselves so depressed by my painful position, that the perception of this sympathetic ill humour was the only friendly sign about me." Five years were to pass before Lohengrin was produced at the Weimar theatre, the exact date being August 28th, 1850. 30 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ Liszt, whose appreciation of this beautiful opera enabled it to be placed on the stage, wrote to the composer saying that the intelligent people were full of sympathy and admiration for his work, " and as far as the public is concerned, it will doubtless consider it an honour to applaud and pronounce that beautiful which it cannot understand." The JValku7'e was begun and finished, and Siegfried begun and set aside for 'Tristan and Isolde^ which was undertaken in the hope of " accomplishing a marvel," or in other words, of forcing the world to believe in him. It was while this opera was being written in 1857, that fresh troubles fell upon Wagner ; for after over twenty years of poverty and worry his wife's health broke down. As a consequence of the strain upon her nerves, her temper became uncertain and her mind had so far escaped from its customary attitude of worship, as to wonder if her husband was wise in refusing to write popular music that in return would win them bread. As her excessive nervousness resulted in insomnia, she sought relief in opium, that in turn brought about heart trouble. In writing to his friend Frau JuHa Ritter, of Mina, his wife, Wagner says that the condition of her mind had become a torment to herself and to her surroundings, adding, *' The state of her education and her intellectual capacities make it impossible for her to find in me and my endowments the consolation which she needs XTbe IRomance of a /lDa& /IDonarcb 31 so much by way of compensation for the disagreeable- ness of our material situation. If this is the source of great anguish to me, it nevertheless makes me pity her with all my heart, and it is my most cordial wish that I may some day be able to afford her lasting consolation in her own way." A separation followed, when she went to reside in Saxony, while he visited Switzerland and Italy. Though she was devoted to her husband, and he was at all times considerate and affectionate towards her, yet the clashing of their widely differing temperaments could never have secured them permanent happiness. The fault cannot be set down to either, though it was lamentable that with all her endurance, thrift, and practicality, she lacked that insight of her partner that more than any other quality in man or woman tends to harmony in married life. Nothing could be more significant of her mental attitude towards her husband, nothing so indicative of the tragic and pathetic space dividing them, than the questions she asked in confidence of their common friend Ferdinand Praeger, at a time when Wagner had given the world its greatest, most dramatic operas, " Now, honestly, is Richard such a great genius ^ " and " Is his music really so beautiful as you say .'' It does not seem so to me, and I am afraid it would not sound so to others." After an absence of some months they were 32 XTbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ reunited, when Wagner wrote to Frau Ritter, hoping that Heaven might grant him the abiHty to carry out patiently his firm and honest determination to treat Mina in the most considerate manner. It was while living apart from Mina, in the autumn of 1857, that he set to work with all his soul at his opera of Tristan, the first act of which was completed on the last day of that year. When two years later the whole opera was finished, he took it to Paris in the glowing hope that he might be able to produce it there under his own supervision, and establish his fame as a composer in the French capital. For though disgusted by the artificiality of the music accepted and approved by them, yet he considered the French people had inherited a perception of beauty in art, and a refinement of feeling, such as no other European nation could boast. To prepare the way for his opera, concerts of his own music were given, which proved a disastrous failure financially. Then followed a period dark with tribulations. When almost overcome by adversity and overwhelmed by debt, news suddenly came to him that the Emperor had ordered a representation of 'Tannhduser at the Grand Opera, This good fortune was due to the Princess Pauline Metternich, an intimate friend of the Empress, and wife of the Austrian Ambassador. Having heard two of Wagner's operas at Vienna, she had been impressed by their Ube IRomance of a /IDat) /IRonarcb 33 grandeur and genius. Later she told Napoleon that a great German composer was starving in Paris, when the Emperor expressed surprise that the work of such a man had not been heard by the Parisians. On being told that many concessions, besides much outlay, were required before Wagner's operas could be produced, his Majesty declared the composer's wishes should be met regarding expenses. This decision thrilled Wagner with delight, for quick to pass from depression to elation, he now saw himself released for ever from drudgery and obscurity, and placed on radiant heights where he stood recog- nised, lauded, eternally renowned. Sad to say, such buoyant hopes were from the first chequered by the incredible difficulties of putting Tannhduser on the stage of the Paris opera-house in the way its composer desired. A translation of the libretto was made into French, not by an ordinary hack, but by a poet capable of reproducing the accent of every word to correspond with the accent of every musical phrase. To facilitate this the music of the whole of the first scene was re-written, translator and composer working day and night. Wagner then engaged German singers at great salaries for the leading parts ; he demanded an enlarged orchestra ; the best scenic artists in France painted the scenery under his directions ; while the rehearsals, lasting six months and numbering one hundred and sixty-four, were insufficient to satisfy his VOL. I. 3 34 Ube IRomance of IRo^alts exorbitant requirements. These were not conducted without strife and vexation, for the singers rebelled at the continued strain, and at the exactions of the com- poser, and became sulky or angry when he corrected their methods, or explained his phrasing, one of them having to be held back on such an occasion lest she should fulfil her violent threat of scratching his eyes out. Worse than all, the conductor proved himself wholly incapable, according to the composer, for his task, and resented the instructions given to him. Wagner then asked permission of the director of the opera to conduct the first performance, and in return was coldly informed that the general rules of the house could not be set aside in his favour. Bristling with impotent rage, he was obliged to see the orchestra conducted in a manner contrary to his methods and desires. " Those who attended the rehearsals will never forget them," says Charles Nuitter. *' The conductor at his desk was beating his time ; while the composer, seated two steps away from him on the stage by the prompter's box, was beating his own time, and beating it with hands and feet, raising a terrible noise and a cloud of dust on the stage floor." The last straw was added to the load of Wagner's vexations when the director, pointing out that there was no ballet in the second act, begged that such a serious omission might be remedied. Wagner's answer that Xlbe IRoinance ot a /iDaC) /iDonarcb 35 a ballet would be an absurdity and an outrage on art had no effect on the director, who stated that his aristocratic subscribers, the members of the Jockey Clubj seldom entered the house before the second act, when they expected to have their tastes gratified by an exhibition of the semi-nude. A desperate wrangle followed, which did not end until Wagner appealed to his patroness, the Princess Metternich, through whose influence the opera was allowed to be presented with- out the customary ballet. As a result of worry, exertion, and fatigue, Wagner was attacked by brain fever, and the presentation of his opera had to be postponed. Its first performance eventually took place on March 13th, 1861. Many forces were at work to wreck it. That the Emperor had commanded the opera of a foreigner, while so many French composers were anxiously awaiting acceptance, was a grievance enlarged on by themselves and by the press, which Wagner had not troubled to conciliate. That he had indignantly rejected the offers of paid claqueurs, hired on such occasions to applaud, was a departure these individuals were determined not to tolerate. But above all his refusal to introduce a ballet gave unforgivable offence to the members of the Jockey Club, not only because it deprived them of a customary pleasure, but because it threw out of employment a number of women in whom they were interested. 36 XLhc IRomancc of IRo^alt^ All Paris was in a state of excitement on the night of Tannhauser's first representation in the capital. As for the composer himself, he had by this time lost all hope of that success which at the beginning had led to boundless expectations ; and he was now dissatisfied, irritated, ill, and wounded, in which melan- choly condition he was almost dragged to the opera- house by his friends. The scene there had all its usual brilliancy and more than its customary vivacity. The entrance of their Imperial Majesties was warmly greeted, but that of the Princess Metternich met with signs of hostility. As the conductor raised his baton a hush fell on the house, and the magnificent overture was listened to with surprise and approval. The first act, however, was frequently interrupted by explosions of mocking laughter, shouts of disapproval, and general hubbub, that was increased by the counter- demonstrations of Wagner's friends and those anxious to hear the music. It was however during the second act, when the members of the Jockey Club had taken their seats, that the battle may be said to have begun, for suddenly, at a preconcerted signal, a shrill sound of dog whistles pierced all ears, and completely drowned the music. In vain the Emperor leaned from his box and frowned ; in vain a section of the audience demanded that the offenders should be turned out ; that the singers stood mute and appealing. From time to time came a lull only to be followed by a Ube IRomance of a /Iftat) /iDottavcb 37 tumult that overwhelmed all opposition to itself, and prevented any idea of the opera being performed by those who desired to hear it. A second and a third performance met with similar receptions, when Wagner withdrew his opera. Dejected as he was by this miserable business, and heavily burdened by debt, additional vexation was caused him by a second breakdown in his wife's health. Borrowing money for the purpose, he sent her to the baths at Mannheim. " After we had lived through four more ghastly days in the rooms, she set off comfortably with the parrot," he writes to the Baroness Malwida von Meysenbug, in a letter which, together with those he wrote to Frau Wille, their translator, Mr. William Ashton Ellis, has kindly permitted me to quote. Later, Wagner went to Biebrich on the Rhine, that he might be able to devote himself undisturbed to work. From Mannheim Mina went to Dresden, where for the brief remainder of her life she lived with her family. It is evident that at this period neither intended their parting to be final, and it is probable that the initiative came from Mina, who for some time had been jealous of her husband's friendship with Frau Wesendonck, an enthusiastic admirer of his genius, and wife of his benefactor, whom Wagner declared an *' unique man." In the spring of 1864, while still pursued by mis- fortune, harassed by debt, and fretted by his wife's 38 the IRomance oX IRo^attg absence, he sought quiet and refuge with his friends Herr and Frau Wille, then living at Mariafeld, about four miles from Zurich. His hostess, a lover of music, a novelist, and a kind, sympathetic woman, " humoured him as far as possible " by placing rooms and servants at his disposal ; so that he ate his meals alone, composed uninterruptedly, walked in solitude, and only occasionally joined the family in their apartments. At times severe depression beset him. " My friend," he said to her on one occasion, when she had been striving to comfort him by the reflection that all great men had to endure misunderstandings and misfortune, " you do not know the extent of my sufferings, the depth of the misery that lies before me." In reply she strove to cheer him by picturing a time when he would triumph over adversity, but in his desponding mood he was not inclined to listen to hope, and asked how she could talk of a glorious future while his manuscripts were locked up in his desk. " Who," he asked, " is to bring out the art- work which only I, with the co-operation of propitious deities, can produce, so that all the world may see how it is, how the master saw and wanted his work ? " Then, clad in his brown velvet gown, a black velvet biretta on his head, which gave him the appearance of an Albert Durer portrait, he walked restlessly up and down the room, only pausing to give vivid glimpses of his temperament in such phrases as " I Ubc K^oinance ot a /llbab /IDonavcb 39 am differently organised from others, have sensitive nerves, must have beauty, splendour, and light. I cannot be content with the miserable position of an organist, like our Master Bach. Is it really such an outrageous demand if I claim a right to the little bit of luxury which I like — I who am preparing enjoyment for the world, and for thousands ^ " While here blissfully removed from the disturbing influence of pressing creditors, the distressing memory of his wife was brought vividly before him by mention of her name in a letter from his friend Ferdinand Praeger. In his reply Wagner gave the keynote to their unhappy situation, in reference to which he asks. How could his wife have expected that he was to be shackled and fettered like any ordinary cold common mortal ? " My inspirations carried me into a sphere she could not follow, and then the exuberance of my heated enthusiasm was met by a cold douche." But still he considered there was no just reason for their separation, as everything might have been arranged between them. *' Now there is a dark void, and my misery is deep. It has struck into my health, I do not sleep, and am altogether in a feverish state. It is now that I feel I have sounded my lowest note of dark despair." He was still enjoying the hospitable shelter of Herr Wille's roof when one morning a bundle of letters were handed to him. Among these was a friendly 46 U\K IRomance of IRo^^alt^ warning that creditors were on his track. To escape from fiends who thirsted for their money or his liberty, it became necessary that he should leave next day ; which he accordingly did, explaining to his friends that he wished to make arrangements regarding his operas, and recruit his health in a more invigorating place. It was in this dark hour, while flying from his creditors, worn in health, broken in spirit, while, to use his own words, he was " draining the cup of sorrow to its lowest dregs," that the turn came in the tide of his affairs which was to lead to inde- pendence, recognition, and fame. For while travelling from place to place to escape his pursuers, King Ludwig had sent his private secretary. Baron Pfister- meister, and an envoy, Adjutant Sauer, to find and bring Wagner to him. His Majesty's interest had first been roused in the composer when, as a lad of sixteen, he had attended a performance of Lohengrin at Weimar, under the direction of Franz Liszt. Fond of mythological subjects and the romantic legends of his country, as has already been stated, the story of the valiant knight and the enchanted swan on which this opera is founded, had an especial attraction for him as being associated with the castle of Hohenschwangan, where much of his early life had been spent. Rebuilt by his father on the site of an ancient residence of the Knights of the Swan, it stands high on a rugged hill above Zbc iRomauce ot a /llbat) /iDouarcb 4* gorges, lakes, forests, and valleys, and is sufficiently romantic in aspect to be the home of a hundred myths. Among its apartments one is known as the Hall of the Swan-Knight, whose frescoed walls represent his story. And as the device of the castle is a swan, that bird may be found in picture and effigy everywhere, without and within its walls — on the armorial bearing on the entrance gates, as fountains from whose beaks water gushes, as ornaments in silver and porcelain in the salons, as vases, goblets, ink-bottles, and ornaments of all kinds. To see this legend dramati- cally produced on the stage, to an accompaniment of thrilling sounds and amid scenes of wondrous fantasy, fascinated the imagination of the boy, and took such hold on him, as Wagner related with self-satisfaction, " that he thenceforth drew his self- tuition from the study of my works and writings, and has openly declared to his entourage, as now to me, that I have been his sole true teacher and bringer-up." Wagner's only foundation for this egotistical boastfulness was that Ludwig had read Art and Revolution and Opera and Drama, pamphlets in which the composer had set forth his ideas on these subjects with an originality and vigour that had probably appealed to Ludwig's mind. That he appreciated Wagner's music is doubtful. Those who disparage it will readily accept the statement persisted 42 tbc l^omance of iRo^alt^ in to his last day by Wanner, the Royal music-master, that Ludwig had no ear for music. He had, however, sufficient interest in Wagner's splendid schemes for the regeneration of his art, confidently termed by him " the music of the future," but comically described by Punch as " promissory notes," to summon to his Court a man so notable and so sorely oppressed. Scarcely had the composer left Mariafeld, the home of the Willes, when Baron Pfistermeister called there in search of him, and was given his address at Stuttgart. Meantime Adjutant Sauer, who had spent a week seeking the composer in Vienna and its surroundings, was told that he was hiding from his creditors in Stuttgart, and going there found him. CHAPTER II Wagner Reaches the Castle of Berg — His First Interview with Ludwig — Extravagant Estimate of the Impression he has Made — Near him am I to Abide — Change in Wagner's Circumstances — The March of Homage — Frau von Bulovv — Wagner Remembers a Dream — The Heavenly Prodigy of Youth — First Production of Tristan — The Courtiers Dislike Wagner — Agitation Against him — His Reply to his Enemies — A Supreme Egotist — Ministers Demand his Dismissal— The Populace Gather Round the Palace — Ludvvig's Reply to them — Wagner is Forced to Leave Munich — Hears of his Wife's Death — Settles on the Borders of Bavaria — Is Visited by the King — The Experiences of Catulle Mendes — Wagner's Letters to his Dressmaker — The King's Projected Marriage — Extensive Preparations — His Majesty Outrages the Composer — Wagner Graciously Pardons him — The King's Marriage is Broken off — First Production of the Meistersmger — Unfriendly Criticisms — The King's Winter Garden— The Designs of a Prima Donna — Frau von Bulow's Marriage is Dissolved — She Marries Wagner — Franz Liszt Takes Minor Orders. ''T^HE distinguished tenor, Herr Vogl, told Mr. X Henry T. Finck, the author of an exhaustive biography called Wagner and his Works^ that the composer was so overwhelmed by misfortunes that he had decided to end his life at the moment the Royal messenger found him. That his wondrous self- confidence should have deserted him seems doubtful, 43 44 tlbe iRomance of iRo^alt^ especially as in writing to his *' priceless friend," Frau Wille, he says he could not have endured the depths of his misery " if there had not lurked in my being's depths a sort of consciousness that my unprecedented sufferings at least had won me a title to some higher import, and a title which, even if not conceded by the world, yet raised me so much higher above the world, and thus albeit in deepest misery made me inwardly a charmed and blessed man." Continuing, he tells her he felt assured that if he could bear his burden, and yet remain meek and kindly, there must be something higher meant for him. " Like lightning it flashed through me that the curtain must suddenly rise, and some wondrous happiness be shown to me." There- fore, when the King's messenger arrived, he " was not at all affrighted ; of itself I had been perfectly sure ; merely the drastic swiftness of its entry startled me." Joyously, radiant with hope, Wagner travelled with the envoy from Stuttgart to Munich, where they stayed a night on their way to the King, then residing in the castle of Berg, standing on a slight eminence surrounded by a park, and overlooking Lake Starn- berg, which is two miles long and half a mile wide ; its slopes on either side showing castles and villas rising from shrubberies and woods. Arriving at the castle next day, Wagner was ushered into the King's presence. A man of strong magnetic influence, power- ful will, and boundless belief in his own abilities, the Ube iRomance of a /Ii>a5 /iDonavcb 4S composer, then in his fifty-first year, completely dominated this lad, yet in his teens, who, impressionable, romantic, and eccentric, had already decided to rescue from his troubles, and act as patron to, a man of genius. In writing to Frau Wille of his interview with the King, Wagner says : "At once all was clear and appointed ; the curtain was drawn up." His own words written within a few hours of his first sight of Ludwig, can alone do justice to his description of his patron, and to his account of the interest and affection which, even on so brief an acquaintance, he believed himself to have inspired in that youth. " Alas," he writes, " he is so handsome and intelligent, so splendid and so full of soul, that I fear lest his life should vanish like a fleeting dream of gods in this vulgar world. He loves me with the depth and glow of a first love ; he knows and fathoms everything about me, and understands me as my soul. He wills that I shall always stay with him, work, rest, perform my works ; he will give me all I need therefor ; I am to finish the Nibelungen, and he will have it performed according to my wish. I am to be my own unfettered master, not Capellmeister, nothing but myself and his friend. All this he means quite seriously and strictly. All trouble shall be taken from me ; I am to have whatever I want, only near him am I to abide. . . . My happiness is so great, that I am quite shattered by 46 Ube IRomance of IRoyalti? it. Of the magic of his eye you can form no notion ; if only he be granted life — it is too rare a miracle." The first result of his changed circumstances was seen when he went to Vienna to arrange with his creditors. Returning with two servants — a married couple — and a faithful hound, he settled in the villa which the King allotted to him, luxuriously furnished, delightfully situated on the shores of Lake Starnberg, and convenient to the Royal residence. Here, " borne by the divinest love," he enjoyed his wondrous good fortune. From his new residence, as he hastens to tell his friend Frau Wille, the Royal carriage was sent for him once or twice a day. " Then I fly as to a sweetheart. 'Tis a fascinating interview. This thirst for instruction, this comprehension, this quiver and glow, I have never encountered in such splendid un- restraint. And then this charming care for me, this winning chastity of heart, of every feature, when he assures me of his happiness in possessing me ; thus do we often sit for hours together, lost in each other's gaze. He makes no parade of me ; we are altogether for ourselves. If I would — so they tell me — the whole Court might stand free to me. He would not understand me if I asked for an ambitious role there. So beautiful and genuine is it all. How easy is it for me thus to tranquillise on every hand ; I am not remarked, I injure no one ; everything, what we both despise at heart, pursues the even tenor of XTbe IRomance of a /llbab /iDonarcb 47 its way ; we trouble not for that. In time they all will like me ; already the immediate entourage of the young King is happy to find and know me thus, since each perceives that my enormous influence on the prince's mind can only tend to good, to no one's harm. Thus everything both in and round us turns better and more beautiful each day." In his boyish enthusiasm for one who was not slow to impress his unequalled greatness on a susceptible mind, .Ludwig showered honours and favours on his protege, whom he made a naturahsed subject of Bavaria, and to whom he gave a pension of a hundred pounds which was subsequently increased, allotted apartments in the Royal palace, a place at the Royal table, and presented with a portrait for which his Majesty gave special sittings. It is characteristic of Wagner that he regarded this last favour, not so much as a gracious gift, as an act that " has taught me how to show to others, too, that I have genius." Meantime he composed The March of Homage in honour of the King, which was played on the military bands ; produced his opera The Flying Dutchman at the Munich theatre in December, 1864 ; gave concerts of his own music in that and the following month ; suggested the foundation of a school for the training of those who would sing in his operas ; the building of a theatre to be devoted to his works, the performance of which, he stated, was the 48 Uhc IRomance of 1Ro)?alt^ King's " consuming thought." But though freed from debt, honoured by Royalty, with the prospect before him of having his music presented according to his own exacting desires, he was yet unhappy. For he who had so often longed for isolation and quiet now felt dejected and lonely, as separated from his wife, he had no one to share his existence. " My solitude is terrible," he writes in September from Starnberg to Frau Wille. " The forlornness of my household, the obligation to concern my solitary self with things for which I never was made, lames my vital spirits. I have had to undergo another removal, to arrange an establishment, to worry myself about knives, forks, dishes and saucepans, bedclothes, etc. — I, the glorifier of women. How kindly they repay me, by leaving me their business." Later in the same letter comes a significant phrase : " Yesterday Frau von Bulow arrived with two children and nurse- maid ; the husband will follow." This lady, who subsequently was to exercise so large an influence in Wagner's life, was the daughter of Franz Liszt and of the Comtesse d'Agoulet, who had left her husband to become the companion of the famous pianist when in his twenty-fourth year, and to whom she bore three children, the youngest of whom, Cosima, married Herr von Bulow, her father's pupil. During his first visit to Paris, Wagner had been introduced to Liszt who, the favourite of for- Ube IRomance of a /iDaD /IDouarcb 49 tune from his earliest years, was an object of jealousy to one rudely repulsed by the world. Their brief encounter gave neither an opportunity to pierce the surface of mannerisms, but left in Wagner's mind a hostile feeling towards Liszt. His free expression of this reached the latter, who was astonished and concerned at giving an impression it had never been his intention to convey, and who with his natural, kindly, and sensitive regard for the feelings of others, strove to cancel it. But Wagner, constitutionally aggressive, was not inclined to receive his friendly overtures. Presently, when Liszt heard Rienzi^ he praised it so widely and enthusiastically as to influence the opinions of many regarding it. In 1847 Franz Liszt, whose tours through the capitals of Europe caused a sensation second only to that of a Royal progress — a London audience alone having the distinction of hissing his performances — ■ suddenly turned his back upon the world, and having already placed the Comtesse D'Agoulet and his children under the care of his mother, accepted the unimportant post of Capellmeister in the little town of Weimar, that he might have time to ponder the thoughts disturbing his soul. Here, where he was the centre of a circle of musicians and pupils, Wagner met him again, and now readily acknowledged the generous and lovable traits of his character. His highest admiration of Liszt was however gained on hearing VOL. I. 4 50 Zbc IRomance of IRoi^alt^ him conduct a rehearsal of Tanfihauser, for Wagner then recognised in him " my second self. What I had felt when I conceived this music, he felt when he performed it ; what I had wished to say when I wrote down the notes, he said when he made them sound. Miraculous." At an earlier date Wagner had become acquainted with one destined to be a member of Liszt's family. This was ,Hans Guido von Bulow, who, on hearing Rienzi for the first time when a mere lad was so dazed and excited that he suddenly lost all sense of hearing during the third act. That such an experience was not more common was to many a source of regret, but it stirred in the boy an admiration that was only to be satisfied by an introduction to the composer. This was brought about when von Bulow was in his sixteenth year, and resulted in his receiving excellent advice regarding his musical education. The final touches to this were gained from Liszt, whose youngest daughter, Cosima, von Bulow married in 1857. The friendship Wagner felt for this young man, who was not only a brilliant pianist, a musical critic, and a conductor of high attainment, but was also his ardent admirer, was strengthened by this union with a daughter of his most helpful ally. Anxious, therefore, to benefit von Bulow and to secure the company of a loyal supporter and admirable interpreter of his works, Wagner used his influence Ubc IRomance ot a /iDab /IDoitarcb 51 with the King to have him appointed to the post of Court pianist. But before this was obtained, von Bulow came to visit him " in the most worn-out condition, with overwrought and shattered nerves, found bad cold weather all the time, consequently an unhealthy climate, and fell from one attack of illness into another. Add to it a tragic marriage ; a young, most ex- ceptionally gifted wife, the very image of Liszt, but intellectually his superior." This visit paid by Herr von Bulow and his wife in July, 1864, did not last more than a few weeks, for in the following September, before Frau von Bulow's second visit, Wagner complains to Frau Wille that he is quite alone, as in some haunted castle. A house in Munich had not yet been found for him, but he was to have one built, though that would take two years. Meantime, " I won't deny that this total solitude is now becoming very harmful to me ; believe me, 'tis an ailment of which I shall bleed away." Then comes one of those glimpses of self-revealment marvellous in its undulated egotism. " However, I have a young King who really loves me to distraction ; you cannot form a notion of it. I remember a dream from my earliest youth, where I dreamt that Shakespeare was alive and I was looking at and speak- ing with him truly in the flesh ; its impression was never to be forgotten, and passed into the yearning to see Beethoven too (who also was already dead). S2 Zbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ Something similar must be taking place in this de- lightful being, when he has me with him. He tells me he can scarcely yet believe he has me really. No one can read his letters to me without awe and en- chantment. Liszt considered that in them he stood on a fully equal grade of receptivity with my own productivity. 'Tis a miracle." A specimen of the King's enthusiastic letters is then sent to Frau Wille. In October Wagner had snatched Bulow " from his insanely exhausting employment, and supplied him with a nobler field " — of preparing The Flying Dutchman for performance. The composer had also moved by this time from Starnberg to a house in the suburbs of Munich, given to him by his patron, and furnished in luxurious style. For Wagner's passion for silks and velvets of gorgeous colours was not limited to his clothing, but extended to the decoration of his rooms, whose walls were hung and whose furniture was draped with these materials. Here, where Frau von Bulow " acted as a kind of secretary," he was happy for a while in framing various schemes for the performance of his music. As already stated. The Flying Dutchman was given in December, but even before that time it was settled that his conception of the Nibelung Tetralogy should be carried out, on which, he says, " I was so awestruck by this heavenly prodigy of a Royal youth, that I came near to sinking on my knees and worshipping him." Zbc IRomance of a /iDab /iDonarcb S3 But a joy as great came to him when his enthraUingly beautiful opera Tristan, now eight years old, but as yet never performed, was selected for representation. All that money could do in providing great singers, splendid scenery, and a magnificent orchestra was done by the King, " my faithful guardian angel ever floating over me with beauty and blessing, full of childlike glee at my content, my joy at the growing achievement ; ever ordering unseen what served me, removing what was cumbrous to me." In a letter published in a Vienna newspaper, Wagner invited his friends and admirers throughout Europe to journey to Munich that they might hear this wonderful opera. A private representation witnessed by the King was given on June 8th, 1865, followed by three pubHc performances during the month. These were conducted by Herr von Bulow, whom the composer speaks of as " a second ego, who knows by heart every minute detail of this score, which to many still appears such a riddle," and were witnessed by a number of those who had responded to Wagner's invitation. Chiefly owing to their presence, as well as to Royal patronage, Tristan was enthusiastically received ; but as it was not sung again in Munich for four years, and as it was coldly commented on by the press, the public at large seemed unconscious that a priceless gift had been given to the world in this enchanting love tragedy. The King was enthusiastic over the opera, and in 54 XTbe IRotiiance of IRogalt^ a letter addressed to Wagner, whom in this (which found its way into the Echo Artistique) he calls " My Exalted and Sublime Friend," he declares he can hardly curb his impatience until he hears it again. " I am enchanted," he continues, " it has laid hold of me ; I burn with longing for a repetition of the first delight. Who could see it, who could hear it, without blessing you ? It is so splendid, so pure, so elevated, that the soul feels everlastingly refreshed. Hail to the creator. I kneel before him. . . . Please make me happy by writing soon. It is not true, my dear friend, that the power of creating will ever leave you. In the name of one who is filled with admiration for you, I beg of you not to abandon him who only has God to depend upon — you and God. Until death, and after in that kingdom beyond, your faithful Ludwig." Two singers had largely won it such success as it had gained. These were Herr Schnorr and his wife, " a wonderful pair of artists, bestowed by heaven, inwardly versed and most fondly devoted, gifted to astonishment." On their intelligent and appreciative interpretation of this work, Wagner had counted as a factor in popularising it ; so that when, a week after the third public performance of 'Tristan^ news came from Dresden that Schnorr was dead, Wagner felt the blow keenly. Unwilling to see any one, he shut himself up in his house, and, as he says, felt XLbc IRomance ot a /llba& /llbonarcb s5 more lonely there than when in the lofty hills. In this state of depression his sole consolation was what he describes as the wondrous love of the King. " He cares for me as never man cared for another. In him I revive, and for him will I still create my works. For myself I, strictly speaking, live no more. Yet he keeps everything aloof from me that would remind me of life and actuality ; henceforth I can do nothing but dream and create." But forces were at work that soon roused Wagner from his melancholy. In stating, within a few weeks of his arrival at Ludwig's Court, that in time the Royal entourage would all like him, and that already they were happy to know that his influence over the King tended to good, he had taken one of those views of himself that was not shared by others ; for almost from the first he had roused their distrust and jealousy, possibly from his authoritative manner and self-assurance, certainly from his assumption of intimacy with the King, into whose presence he went unannounced, and whom he left without ceremony when he pleased, and finally because of the many favours he received from this hero-worshipping youth. Feelings of disHke of the composer rapidly spread from the courtiers to the public. That their ruler should lavish money on the productions of one whose music had been censured and ridiculed in almost every capital of Europe sorely vexed them ; and this 56 Ubc IRomance ot IRo^alts feeling rose with a bound when it was known that his Majesty proposed to expend seven milHon marks in erecting a theatre, chiefly for the performance of the favourite's music, on the site of the Maximihaneum, a high preparatory school for civil servants founded by the late King, whose intentions were so far disregarded that the building was stopped that the money to be spent on it might be saved for Wagner's designs. His Majesty's Ministers were not slow to share the general sentiment of uneasiness, and to show their disappointment in a Sovereign who at a time when the Schleswig-Holstein war was agitating all Germany, made the building of an opera-house a subject of debate in his Cabinet. That he desired to spend on this structure money which was needed elsewhere, and devoted to the discussion of music the time which should be given to the affairs of his kingdom was additional matter for dissatisfaction. Added to this was the dread entertained by the religious section of the populace of the influence exercised over their King by one known to be an admirer of Schopen- hauer, who mocked at fiith and reviled the Church. Wagner's intention, it was stated, was to place the theatre in a relation to the people which had hereto- fore been held by religion. Politicians added their voice to the chorus of his denunciation by declaring that he used his authority over the King to favour the policy of Prussia. Zbc IRomance of a flDat) /IDonarcb s7 The agitation against him which raged in Munich spread through Bavaria and crossed the frontiers, its progress inflamed and aided by the press. A Berlin paper, the Vossische Zeitung^ hinted that " the revelations regarding the abyss into which honest Bavaria, together with its old dynasty, was to be precipitated by Richard Wagner are becoming more and more gruesome." Other journals charged him with obtaining large sums of money from an infatuated young man ; pointed out that he who recently was a fugitive from creditors was now living in luxury ; and severely commented on his private life. Such a combination of exaggeration, falsehood, and censure deeply wounded one so sensitive to criticism ; but as he was not a man to suffer in silence, he published in the friendly Allgemeine Zeitung a reply to his accusers that filled three columns. The undisturbed repose and opportunity to work afforded him by his Royal patron, after years of bitter struggle and toil, had been suddenly disturbed, he said, by attacks on his personality, " by a storm of public accusations such as ordinarily get into the papers only from the law-courts, and even from there only with certain traditional considerations. I have been in London and Paris when my art works and tendencies were unmercifully ridiculed by the news- papers, my works dragged into the dust and hissed in the theatre ; but that my person, my private 5 8 Zbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ character, my civic qualities and domestic habits should be exposed to the public abuse in the most dis- honourable manner, that is an experience which was reserved for me till I came to a place where my works are appreciated, my aims and tendencies ac- knowledged to possess manly seriousness and noble significance." The emoluments he received from his Majesty, Wagner continued, did not exceed what Bavarian kings had previously granted to artists and scientists. And having a right to regard himself not as a favourite, but as an artist adequately paid for his work, he did not consider himself called upon to give an account of his expenditure to any one. But how highly he appreciated the good luck of having unexpectedly found the magnanimous patron " who knew how to appreciate the value of my boldest artistic plan " was evident from the fact that he had become a naturalised subject of Bavaria. Concerning this refutation, as he terms his reply, Wagner writes to Frau Wille that it contains but one subterfuge, " touching the limitedness of my relations with the King." From this letter it is evident that no selfish thought regarding the advance- ment of his works, the position and comfort he enjoyed, the rewards granted him, prevented Wagner from quitting Munich, but that he was kept there because of the desperate condition into which such a step must inevitably plunge his Majesty. For even XLbc IRomance of a /IDa^ /IRonarcb 59 if he were to renounce the rights given him by " this wonderfully deep and fatalistic liking of the King for me," yet he could not " reconcile it with my heart, my conscience, to shuffle off the duties it imposes on me. ... I can but shudder at the thought of withdrawing within the bounds demanded by my own repose, and leaving him to his surroundings. I quake in the depths of my soul, and ask my daemon. Why this cup ^ Why, when I sought for rest and leisure undisturbed for work, am I involved in a responsibility which places in my hands the weal of a divinely gifted human being, perhaps the welfare of a land ,'' How save my heart here .'* How still be artist too ? He lacks every man he needs. This, this is my veritable torment. The outward game of intrigue, simply reckoned to throw me off my balance, and draw from me an indiscretion, easily recoils on itself. But what an energy, destructive of my peace for ever, should I require to snatch my youthful friend for ever from his entourage. He keeps loyal, touchingly true to me, and shuts himself just now from every one." The belief of this supreme egotist in his influence over Ludwig suffers from a statement inadvertently made by him to his friend Herr Wille, to the effect that whenever he (Wagner) talked about politics, his Majesty looked at the ceiling and whistled. If it were possible, his overwhelming estimate of his own import- 6o Uhc IRomance ot IRo^alts ance must have received a shock when he was re- quested by the King to leave Munich. For the storm against the favourite had risen to such a height that in December,! 865, the Chief of PoHce waited on the King and stated that if Wagner were not banished, a revolution might be expected. His Majesty was not left in doubt regarding the truth of this statement ; for aware of the officer's mission, an agitated, threaten- ing crowd had gathered in front of the Royal palace to receive the Sovereign's answer in person. Though grieved that a man of genius whom he patronised must be sent away, Ludwig did not hesitate in his decision, but stepping on to a balcony overlooking the black surging mass of people, he told them that the wishes of the nation were paramount to him, and he would show his dear people that he placed its con- fidence and love beyond all other considerations, by granting their desire. His words were received with ringing cheers and shouts for blessings on his head; and in this way a threatened danger was avoided. That the kingdom should have been brought to the verge of insurrection by an eighteen-months' residence in its capital of a musician seems extraordinary, and speaks volumes for the character of the man. Though stubborn things in themselves, facts assume different aspects when viewed by different people. Wagner's opinion of this event, as related to his friends, varied from that written in the official docu- Hbc IRomance of a /^^a^ /IDonarcb 6t ments of Munich, According to him, it was repre- sented to the King that his (Wagner's) life was in danger, when his Majesty implored him to leave. Like all egotists, he was unable to conceive the hopeless darkness of those who were blind to his attractions, and he scornfully scouts the suggestion of his un- popularity. " The people opposed to me ? " he says in astonishment. " No, not if they knew me." He therefore left Munich, not to escape the wrath of its indignant citizens, but that, deprived of his presence, the Sovereign might be chastened and strengthened. " At the moment, it is requisite to leave the young King time to learn to rule a little and be master," he tells Frau Wille, who by the way, disapproved of his influence over the King, and on that account had refused an invitation to hear Tristan performed for the first time. " The school of present sufferings will be good for him. His too great love for me had made him blind to all other relations around him, so that he was easy to dupe. He reads nobody, and must begin to learn mankind. But I have hope for him. Just as I am sure of his love for ever, do I also trust to the development of his splendid parts. He only needs to learn to know men rather better. Then he will soon hit the mark." In leaving Munich Wagner felt assured, as he stated, that his return was merely a question of time, " until the King is able to change his advisers." However, he 62 Ubc IRomatice ot IRo^alt^ was to learn that no matter what sacrifice it might entail on the citizens of Munich, he was never more to dwell permanently among them. Such disappointment as Wagner must have felt in being obliged to leave Munich was modified when Ludwig raised his pension to about eight hundred pounds a year. With this to his credit the composer quitted the Bavarian capital in December, 1865, and going first to Vevey and Geneva, afterwards travelled through the south of France for the benefit of his health. While enjoying his ease in that gayest, most cosmopolitan of cities, Marseilles, news reached him that his wife had died of heart disease in Dresden on January 25th, 1866. Notwithstanding their separa- tion, his memories must have been tender and regretful of this gentle woman who had shared his bitterest hardships but not his triumphs, who had worshipped him blindly, slaved for him, and been his partner while he conceived some of his greatest work, whose sole defect was her inability to understand the be- wildering moods that were attendants on his genius, and who though neglected and having cause for jealousy, had shown her faithfulness unto death by her recent defence of him in the press when he had been accused of allowing her to starve. A marble cross was erected by Wagner above the resting-place of his wife, of whom he never afterwards spoke but with respect, if not regret. Z\K H^omance of a /Iftab /Iftonaixb 63 From Marseilles he turned longing eyes toward the glow and colour of Italy, but hearing that " the devil was playing his pranks against him " at the Court of his Bavarian Majesty, Wagner wisely resolved not to risk the loss of his influence with Ludwig by placing a considerable distance between them. He therefore quickly retraced his route, his reason for giving up a holiday in a country that appealed to the rich sensuousness of his temperament being, ac- cording to the explanation given by him to the Baroness von Meysenbug, and no doubt believed in by himself, that " I durst not go too far from Munich, if I would prevent the young King's abdication." Aware that it was inadvisable for him to settle in Bavaria, he eventually decided to live not far removed from its frontier, and in April, 1866, took a lease for six years of an isolated, roomy country house standing on a headland known as Triebschen, and giving delightful views of the steep and desolate heights of Mount Pilatus, the sunnier slopes of the Rigi, and the glittering expanse of Lake Lucerne, but two miles distant. Before removing the furni- ture, decorations, and brocades from his house In the suburbs of Munich, which he was to inhabit no more, Wagner had various alterations made in his new two- storied residence. Here he was presently joined by his " noble, ministering friend," Frau yon Bulow 64 trbe IRoinance of IRo^alt^ and her children, the husband following later on, as usual. The loneliness of his situation prevented interrup- tions to his work, and as his exile from Munich seemed to end his chances of producing the Nibelung Ring operas, he once more turned to the composition of Die Meister singer^ his only comic opera. Few visitors intruded, but one came occasionally, unex- pectedly, generally arriving at dead of night or in the grey of dawn. For still under the sway of Wagner's magnetic influence, Ludwig, when restless and weary of his surroundings would, selecting dark- ness as his time, mount his fleetest horse, and secretly leaving the palace take his way through the silent echoing streets of the capital, pass tlie deep portals of its gates, and gaining the open country, gallop recklessly until he had crossed the frontier and reached Triebschen, exhausted from the long ride. Here he would remain two or three days, listening to the composer's exuberant talk, and his grandiose schemes for the future ; the place of his Majesty's stay being unknown to, but suspected by his Ministers and courtiers. Then in the same mysterious way Ludwig returned to Munich. His desire that none should recognise him while he paid these visits, occasionally led to amusing mistakes ; one of which is related by Catulle Mendes, the French poet, in his little book, Richard Wagner. While enjoying a holiday in trbe IRomance of a /llba& /IRonarcb 65 Switzerland, he resolved to call on Wagner, whom he had known in Paris. On putting up at an hotel in Lucerne, he was met with questioning glances, and on his ordering a carriage to take him to Triebschen, was overwhelmed by signs of the utmost respect ; the servants bowing low as they passed, people in the streets uncovering as he approached, the landlord kissing his hands. On asking why he was treated in this bewildering manner, the host let it be known that he appreciated the high honour done him by King Ludwig in staying under his roof; and when the poet laughingly assured him he was mistaken, the landlord, still preserving his grave and comprehensive expression, replied, " Sire, everything shall be in accordance with your Majesty's wishes ; and since that is desired, your Majesty's incognito will be respected." And in this way the poet had greatness thrust upon him. The composer received him in his villa, whose walls were hung with "luminous stuffs that spread them- selves like sheets of flame." Nor was his attire un- worthy of such surroundings, his " coat and trousers of golden satin embroidered with pearl flowers," making his sturdy figure as it darted backwards and forwards a dazzling and bizarre object against a background of gorgeous colour. That he should delight in wearing fantastic costumes and devote such pains to designing them, is one of those curious VOL. I. 5 66 XLbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ psychological traits in the character of a man of genius which makes its study profoundly interesting. For though absorbed in his marvellous compositions, in his endeavours to place them fittingly on the stage, in his quarrels with critics and enemies, he yet found time to write letters to his dressmaker, full of minute details and illustrated by sketches. Sixteen of these, beginning soon after he had settled in Munich, and covering a space of four years, were published during his lifetime in the Neue Freie Presse. For the brief extract given here to illustrate the interest he took in his clothes, I am indebted to the translation made by Mr. Henry T. Finck and quoted in his book Wagner and his Works. Having ordered a dressing-gown of pink satin, the Master says it must be " stuffed with eiderdown and quilted in squares, like the grey and red cover- let I had of you ; exactly that substance, light, not heavy ; of course with the upper and under material quilted together. . . . Then put on extra, not sewn on to the quilted material, a padded ruching all round of the same material ; from the waist the ruching must extend downwards into a raised facing (or garniture) cutting off the front part. Study the drawing carefully ; at the bottom the facing or Schopp, which must be worked in a particularly beautiful manner, is to spread out on both sides to half an ell in width, and then rising to the waist, tlbe IRomance of a /Iftab /iDonarcb 67 lose itself in the ordinary width of the padded ruch- ing which runs all round." Meantime his Majesty's subjects began to look forward to his marriage, which it was hoped would free him from the dominating influence of Wagner, and turn his attention from music-dramas to domestic life, and from an interest in the affairs of an opera- house to those of his kingdom. That he had reached his twentieth year without falling in love was a singular fact that proved his unlikeness to other men ; but with a temperament that found its supreme en- joyment in idealism, the more ordinary and human pleasures of life scarcely appealed to him. Being quite unconcerned about that which, to the more egotistical, is considered of the utmost importance — the choice of a life-partner — he showed no interest in any one of the eligible princesses who were suggested to him as a future wife. He therefore readily agreed to the choice made by his mother, who on his behalf proposed to her niece, the Princess Sophie Charlotte of Bavaria. Aware that insanity tainted his descent from the Hohenzollern and the Wittelsbach lines, it seems amazing, with a view to his probable posterity, that she should have selected his cousin for his bride. Otherwise none more fitting could be found than this Princess, the youngest daughter of Duke Maximilian of Bavaria, and the youngest sister of the Empress of Austria. 68 tlfte IRomance of IRo^alt^ Two years his junior, beautiful, gracious, and a lover of art, it was hoped that the Princess Sophie would soon win her way to his heart and make him an ideal wife. The announcement of their engagement, made public in Jannary, 1867, was received with universal joy by his subjects, who immediately began to prepare for the wedding, the date of which was not then fixed. Early in the year schemes were drawn up for decorating the capital on the wedding day ; the King's grandfather, the lover of Lola Montez, wrote an ode comparing the Royal pair to Venus and Adonis ; every workshop in Munich was busy manufacturing articles for the coming festivities ; medals with en- graved portraits of the King and his future Queen were struck for distribution on their wedding day ; the ladies and gentlemen of her Majesty's Household were appointed ; and a magnificent bridal carriage, painted with rose-wreathed cupids, and emblazoned with gold, was built for the Royal couple at a cost of a million gulden. For a time Ludwig conscien- tiously and coldly played the part required of him, for he drove with his bride-elect through the streets ; sat beside her at a State performance at the theatre ; and rowed her in his boat, the Tristan, about Lake Starnberg. His listlessness and silence on these occasions were set down to his natural shyness and dislike to publicity. His mother, who disliked Wagner, believed his influence over her son was now at an XTbe IRomance of a /IDa^ /IDonavcb 69 end ; but in this she was mistaken. For when, in the March of this year, the composer desired to give a performance in Munich of Lohengrin^ with every accessory that could ensure its success, and without the cuts that had been made at its former productions, Ludwig was as willing as ever to supply the necessary funds, and to interest himself in its details. It was at the rehearsals which followed that a mis- understanding took place between Wagner and his Majesty, for the latter's love of beauty of form being offended by the obese figures of two of the singers, he declared he would not attend a performance or rehearsal in which they took part. The following sentences from a letter of Wagner's regarding this disagreement give further proof that it was not his music but his dramas that appealed to his Royal patron. Having mentioned Ludwig's dislike to Tichatschek's acting, " for he had sung splendidly, " says Wagner, *' I felt that the King's enthusiasm inclined to the spectacular, and where this was defective he could not elsewhere find compensation. But now comes the outrage. Without consulting me, he ordered Tichatschek and the * Ortrud ' to be sent away. I was, and am, furious, and forthwith mean to quit Munich." It was probably to this incident that Wagner referred later on when telling Ferdinand Praeger of certain blunt speeches he had made to the King. Hearing them, Praeger begged the composer to remember the 70 XTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ sore straits and bitter humiliations he had known before he was sent for to Munich, on which he burst out, "I have lived before without the King, and I can do so again," He did not however risk the experience of living without Royal patronage ; but though he did not honour this performance of Lohengrin with his presence, it must be recorded to his credit that he graciously pardoned the "outrage" his Majesty had committed. Ludwig's marriage was now fixed to take place in October, 1867, and as the time drew near little else was talked of throughout the kingdom than the splendid festivities which were to celebrate it. There- fore inexpressible disappointment and regret were felt when, without warning, without any known cause, an announcement appeared one morning in the court journal briefly stating that his Majesty's marriage with the Princess Sophie would not take place. None was more grieved, more mortified, by this decision than the Queen ; who, justly or unjustly, thought it was due to Wagner, who wished to keep her son under his own undivided influence for the further- ance of his own designs. But as yet she did not despair of seeing Ludwig happily married to some Austrian archduchess or Bourbon princess ; and for that purpose, and without his consent or knowledge, she carried on negotiations with their parents. One of these, willing to become Ube IRomancc of a /IC>a& /iRonarcb 71 his consort, who came to stay with the Queen, found it difficult to believe that her own beauty and fascinations could not captivate the King if only opportunity were given her. As it was not, she determined to seek it. So one day, by accident carefully arranged, while he was walking alone in his private garden, into which all others were forbidden to enter while he was there, he came at the turn of a pathway face to face with a blooming Hebe innocently gathering flowers. Instead of the admiration and welcome she expected to receive, she was greeted by a torrent of angry words which drove her from the picturesque scene she had selected for her appearance. Suspecting that this was a contrivance of his mother's, an interview with her followed, when he told her he intended never to marry. Angry words were spoken which were never quite forgotten by either, and during the remainder of his life they met but seldom. In the spring of the following year (1868) Wagner was busily preparing his new opera, the Meistersinger, for production at the Munich theatre. Frequent and careful rehearsals, at which the King was occasion- ally present, were conducted by Bulow under the directions of the composer, who during the time walked up and down the stage with short steps, his hands in his pockets. Now and then he would fling himself into a chair beside the prompter's box, 72 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ " nodding his head in a satisfied and pleased way, and smiling all over his face. But if anything in the orchestra displeases him," says a Viennese journalist, "which happens not infrequently, he jumps up as if a snake had bitten him, claps his hands, and calls to the orchestra, after Bulow has rapped for silence, * Piano, gentlemen, piano. That must be played softly, softly, softly, as if it came to us from another world.' And the orchestra begins again." The Meistersinger was sung for the first time on June 21 St, 1868, before a crowded audience that in- cluded the King. Beside him in the Royal box sat Wagner. At the end of this delightful work, an enthusiastic house called for the composer, who, instead of going on the stage to receive its congratulations, rose from his seat and bowed. This act, said to have been suggested by the King, was regarded by the public as a piece of unwarrantable presumption, and was condemned by the press as impudent self-assertion. Though the opera was a complete success, it did not escape scathing criticisms which are amusing to read. One famous critic spoke of its " poisoned counter- point " and "its ugly rioting of dissonances that make one's hair stand on end." Another, not less well known, thought it " the craziest assault ever made on art, taste, music, and poetry " ; while a Berlin scribe spoke of it as " the most horrible caterwauling that could be devised." Zhc IRoinance of a /lDa& /iDonarcb 73 Besides attending public performances of Wagner's operas, Ludwig occasionally had them sung to him in his private theatre, when, that he might escape the distraction and nervous irritation which the presence of others causes in moments of strained attention, he listened quite alone, and in darkness that was relieved only by the lighting of the stage. At times he also summoned opera-singers to the palace. These it was his pleasure to listen to as he glided noise- lessly over the lake in the winter garden he had constructed at enormous expense on the top of the Royal residence in Munich, and which was so large that it extended along the whole length of the west wing of the palace. Interiorly its colour, splendour, and perfume made it seem an enchanted place. Countless roses hung from its high arched roof ; thousands of lights glowed softly from under the leaves of palms, plantains, and other tropical trees ; from its blossoming shrubberies rose the slender minarets and glittering cupolas of kiosks ; paroquets flew from branch to branch ; waterfalls splashed musically ; on the walls views of the Himalaya mountains were painted so skilfully as to give an impression of space and distance ; the waters of the lake were coloured blue and scented with violets ; while its banks were covered with hyacinths and orchids. Here in a golden boat shaped like that in which Lohengrin appears, and propelled by a mechanical swan, his Majesty, clad in 74 TLbc IRomancc of IRo^alt^ silver armour like that enchanted knight, spent the hours when the world slept, listening to stringed instruments or to singers concealed behind the foliage ; he silent, solitary, dreaming, like the pale dwellers in lotus-land. Here Wagner was occasionally permitted to bear his Majesty company, a favour once extended to Fraulein Schefszky, an opera-singer whose superb voice had won his enthusiastic admiration. Unwilling that this should be limited to her voice, the lady, in whose portly person beat a scheming heart, sent him verses hinting of her ardent love, and made him presents that he accepted on the condition that he paid for them — an arrangement that allowed her to reap considerable profit, as she charged him three times their cost, until an exorbitant demand for some gift awoke his secretary's suspicion, and led to the discovery and the dismissal of the Fraulein from Royal favour. Before this happened she had often sung to Ludwig hidden behind the shrubs in the winter garden. On the evening when she was in- vited to sit with him and Wagner in the boat, it seemed to her she had reached the highest place in his favour. Therefore in a moment of silence succeeding her song, while the swan noiselessly drew them through the blue-tinted perfumed water, and his Majesty, lost in reverie, stared into space, the lady lent forward and gently passed her fingers through Ube IRomance ot a /II^a^ /iDoiiaixb 75 his hair, when, shocked and disgusted by such familiarity, he pushed her away so roughly that the boat upset and flung all three into the lake. The King clambered up the bank and strode away without turning to see what became of his companions, and the prima donna, drenched and disillusioned, was rescued by the composer with the assistance of a boat-hook. In 1869 Bulow, who had been the subject of severe comments in the press, had his marriage dissolved. Resigning his post as director of the opera, he went to live in Florence ; while his wife found a home under Wagner's roof. Before they could marry certain difficulties had to be overcome. Though Wagner had been brought up as a follower of Luther, Frau Bulow belonged to a Church which does not sanction divorce. She was therefore obliged to embrace a faith which showed more consideration to ill-assorted couples, before she could become Wagner's wife. Meantime she gave birth to a child, who being Wagner's, was according to that supreme egotist " a marvellously beautiful and sturdy son, whom I could proudly christen Siegfried." Eventually, on August 25th, 1870, when in his fifty-eighth year, Wagner and Cosima were married in the Protestant Church of Lucerne. This step was strongly opposed to the wishes of the bride's father. In 1859 Franz Liszt had resigned his post as director of the opera at Weimar, owing 76 Zl)c IRotnance of IRo^alt^ to the opposition raised against his management. He thenceforth spent a great part of his life at Pesth and at Rome. In the intervals of his various intrigues with high-born women, reaction had set in, when he became absorbed in religious mysticism. With the coldness of increasing years his morals strengthened, until in the autumn of 1864, in order to review his past and face his future, he retired to a Dominican monastery standing half-ruined and solitary in the yellow plains of the Campagna, but having glorious views of the blue heights of the Alban hills, and of the distant city whose crowded roofs is dominated by the superb dome of St. Peter's. As a result of his meditations he became a sub-deacon and received the tonsure in the spring of the following year from the hands of Cardinal Hohenlohe, in the private chapel of the Vatican. Having taken the minor vows, he was given the honorary title of abbe, but not a cure of souls, so that he was free to follow his art uninterruptedly. The cynical heard of his decision with a smile, and declared he had entered the Church to secure himself against a marriage with a noble and mature dame, whom long-desired widowhood had just left free to renew her affection for him under more hallowed circumstances. His displeasure with Wagner did not last long, and this amiable man afterwards lived on friendly terms with both the husbands of his daughter. CHAPTER III The King's Increasing Eccentricities — A Crown of Scorpions — Terrible Dreams — Seeking Escape — The Crown Prince of Prussia — The Kaiser March — The Bayreuth Opera-House — Wagner's Interpreta- tion of a Storm— Laying the Foundation Stone of the Opera- House — Disappointments and Vexations Regarding his New Undertaking — His House at Bayreuth — Preparations for the Performances of the Nibehmg Ring Operas — Wagner's Speech at their Close — He Awaits a Crowning Abomination — His London Concerts— The Painting of his Portrait — Crushed by Debt — Helped by his Royal Patron — The King's Mania for Building— A Castle in the Air — The Splendours of Linderhof — An Island Palace — Prince Otto becomes Insane — The King Shrinks from Humanity — Fears a Madman — Private Performances in the Court Theatre — Ludwig's Extravagant Generosity— A Royal Pair — Flying Through the Night — His Reverence for Marie Antoinette. BY this time the personal attendants of the King had become gravely concerned at his growing eccentricities, his increasing love of solitude, and the condition of his health. At times they were startled by the appearance of his pale, haggard face, whose eyes blazed with feverish unrest — the result of headaches, caused, as he explained, by an ever-tightening crown of scorpions binding his forehead. By day he was haunted by nameless intangible fears clamouring for possession of his mind ; by night he was beset by n 78 Ube iRomance ot IRo^alt^ terrible dreams, in which bloodstained faces, crowned with flaming hair, bent in circles above him, their soulless eyes fixed on him watchfully, their cruel lips mocking him, their serpent tongues hissing. From these he would wake screaming, and fleeing from the scene of his agony, would mount his horse in haste, and ride through the night, along mountain passes, down precipitous slopes, by tangled forests, indifl^erent to danger and seeking escape. To indulge his love of solitude, he frequently left the capital suddenly and without acquainting his Ministers of his intention. In answer to their mild remonstrances, he assured them, " It was incumbent upon a Prince to meditate on the duties of his calhng, which he could surely do better when alone with God and Nature than in the confusion of a Court." His Government was therefore often sorely perplexed by his absence, but never more so than when in July, 1870, France declared war against Prussia. Whether Bavaria would remain neutral or join forces with the Emperor or the King was a question that excited the whole nation, and that could not be decided without consulting its monarch. At this important moment Ludwig was absent, having first gone to the castle of Berg, and from there to the mountains, leaving word that no papers or despatches were to be sent after him unless in a case of urgent necessity. When found, the King returned to the capital, and XTbe IRoinance of a /iDa^ /IDouarcb 79 to the delight of his subjects decided to place his troops at the disposal of Prussia. As his hatred of warfare, with its sickening scenes of bloodshed and devastation, prevented him from heading his army, that position was taken by the Crown Prince, after- wards the Emperor Frederick. On July 27th the latter came to Munich to take command of the Bavarian soldiers, and was received by the people with enthusiasm, and by the King with apparent friendliness. The Crown Prince, who had not seen Ludwig for two years, was struck by his " strangely altered " appearance, and in the diary suppressed by Bismarck, wrote of him as being " much less handsome, nervous in his speech, does not wait for an answer after putting questions, but while the answer is being given puts other questions referring to widely different subjects." On leaving, he took with him Prince Otto, the King's brother, and Prince Luitpold, his uncle, who were to fight under the banner of Prussia. It may be mentioned here that Otto, who like his brother had shown many signs of eccentricity, was soon sent back, or, as it was politely termed, " recalled on important business." On the day when he took his leave of the Crown Prince the latter described him as being '* as wretched looking as if he were in a fit of the shivers," adding that when he spoke to him of certain diplomatic matters, " 1 could not make out whether he understood or even heard me." So Ube If^oinance of IRo^alt^ During the Franco-Prussian war, the King suffered from profound melancholy, mixed with a bitter jealousy of the Crown Prince, who was filling the place at the head of the Bavarian army that Ludwig knew belonged to himself, but which his temperament prevented him from taking. At the close of that brief war, Bismarck, by the use of considerable diplomacy, induced him, as head of the South German States, to copy and sign a letter written by that Minister in which the King of Prussia was urged to assume the title of Emperor. A letter addressed to the other rulers of South Germany, and bearing Ludwig's signature, asked them to second his request. It was a stirring time for the little Bavarian capital when, in July, 1871, the Crown Prince entered its gates bringing with him all that was left of its army. Crowned with a laurel wreath, presented with addresses, and hailed as a conqueror, he was regarded by Ludwig with gnawing envy, which expressed itself by a positive refusal to be present at the great banquet given to Frederick. Saying he needed rest, he drove from the Royal palace soon after dawn on the date on which it was to take place, and without saying fyewell to his guest. To celebrate the great political event of the day, Wagner composed a Kaiser March, which, when performed in Munich, was described by a musical critic as "a piece of such barbaric rudeness, such Ube IRomance of a /IDa& /Il>onarcb si impotence in invention, such shameless impudence in the use of all conceivable noises, that its name appears a blasphemy, its performance before a civilised public a coarse insult." Full of restless energy, burning with ambition for his art, Wagner had by this time conceived the idea of building a theatre after his own designs for the performance of his own operas. Communi- cating this to Ludwig, he received the appreciative sympathy of his patron, and what was more important, the promise of help in this elaborate and expensive undertaking. The place selected for the building was the slumberous old Bavarian town of Bayreuth, almost in the middle of Germany. A site for it, situated on an eminence, surrounded by park-like grounds and backed by a wooded hill, was presented to him by the inhabitants, who were mindful of the profit which they must reap from the crowds which would flock to the performances of his operas. Architects and engineers were consulted, plans were drawn and discussed, and concerts were performed to gain funds. One of these was given in Vienna at a moment when a storm raged, and it so happened that thunder and lightning were seen and heard just as the Magic Fire Music was being played, and at the precise phrase where Wotan invokes Loge the fire-god to protect the sleeping Valkyrie. To Wagner this coincidence was an indication of the direct interest shown in his work by august powers ; and with the dramatic VOL. I. 6 82 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ instincts of his character he came before his audience and told them : " When the Greeks undertook a great work, they invoked Zeus to send them his lightning in token of his favour. Let us too," he added, "who are united here in the desire to found a hearth for German art, interpret to-day's lightning in favour of our national undertaking, as a sign of blessing from above." The foundation stone of the Nibelung Theatre at Bayreuth was laid with much ceremony on May 22nd, 1872, Wagner's fifty-ninth birthday. Invita- tions sent throughout Germany to musicians wiUing to take part in the Beethoven Festival, which was to form part of the proceedings, had been widely accepted, and the number of those present was increased by the representatives of various Wagner Societies that had been founded by Emil Heckel, of Mannheim, to raise funds for the building. The King was not present, but a telegram was received from him that morning addressed " To the German poet-composer, Herr Richard Wagner," which said : "From the profoundest depths of my soul I express to you, dearest friend, my warmest and most sincere congratulations on this day of such great significance to all Germany. Bless- ing and prosperity to the great undertaking next year. To-day more than ever I am united with you in spirit. — Ludwig." This message, several coins, the statutes of the first Wagner Society, and some lines Ube IRomance of a fJX^a^ /IDonatcb 83 of Wagner's that said : " Here I enclose a secret ; here let it rest hundreds of years, as long as the stone preserves it ; it will reveal itself to the world," were all placed in an iron box that was sunk under the foundation stone. This was laid by Wagner himself, who heading a procession from the old theatre, where the Beethoven Festival had been held, walked to the strains of the March of Homage he had composed in honour of the King, to the site of the new building. Then, his eyes sparkling with triumph, his fine head flung back with its customary air of defiance, his voice vibrating with emotion, he cried out : '* Blessings on this stone ; may it stand long and hold firmly." The stroke of his hammer was lost in the ringing cheers of those surging round him. Sanguine of success, he believed the theatre would be completed the following year. But in this, as in most of his projects throughout his life, he was destined to disappointment. The money necessary for the building, which he believed would pour in on him, was not forthcoming. This was due, not only to the strange indifference to his art shown by the German people, but to the disparagement expressed by the press toward himself and his music. One journal the Grazer JVochenblatt fur Literature^ delicately referred to his " coarse bigmouthedness," and dilated on " the colossal impudence of the Bayreuth undertaking." 84 TTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ Another paper described the ceremony of laying the foundation stone as " a farce, staged with genuine Wagnerian raffinement^ and calculated solely for his personal glorification"; while the Vossische Zeitung ridiculed the claim of national importance made for his music-dramas by one whom the German nation refused to recognise as a great composer. Whatever the cause, the result was disheartening. Four thousand circulars issued by the Wagner Society brought it a few dollars that did not pay the expense of printing. An appeal addressed to the managers of the opera-houses through Germany, for a benefit performance in aid of the Bayreuth theatre, was ignored by most of them, three only responding, to refuse the request. No notice was taken of a letter sent by Wagner to Bismarck asking help. A similar petition to the Imperial Government also com- pletely failed ; but the German Emperor sent a small subscription from his private purse. Above all, in this hour of need the King seemed indifferent to the straits of the man who had declared that his Majesty adored him ; for on Wagner asking him to become a guarantee for the sum necessary to continue the theatre, Ludwig refused. It was then that Wagner, deeply dejected, sent a telegram to his energetic and helpful friend, Herr Heckel, asking him to visit him. On his arrival he was told by Wagner that he intended to address an Hbe IRomance of a /lDa& /iDonarcb 85 open letter to him, declaring that the building of the theatre must be discontinued until better times. " I'll have the still open walls of the Festival House boarded in, that at least the owls mayn't build their nests there until we can go on building again," he said. Heckel, a forcible, determined man, at once replied : " That shall never be." Various projects to secure funds were then entered into, but before any result from these could be obtained, Wagner discovered the cause of the King's disinclination to help him. A man less blinded by self-importance might readily have suspected it. An admirer of Ludwig had written some verses in his praise, which he called Made Imperator. These he had sent to Wagner asking him to set them to music, a request the composer had " emphatically declined " to grant, when the King was naturally hurt that one who was so much indebted to his bounty should refuse to please him in so small a matter. This feeling was soon removed by Wagner, who says he was " able to explain the very mischievous occasion to the King in a way that turned him to my side at once." An arrangement was then made in February, 1874, by which his Majesty advanced a sufficient sum out of his privy purse to continue the building, in return for which all moneys received for ■patronat vouchers were assigned to the Royal ex- chequer until payment was completed. The Sultan of Turkey and the Khedive of Egypt helped a S5 tbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ the same time by taking a number of Patron's Certificates. While the theatre was in course of erection, Wagner built himself a residence in Bayreuth, on a site also presented to him by the townspeople, and situated close to the public park. Exteriorly the villa is plain, its sole attempt at ornamentation being a fresco above the entrance representing Wotan as the symbol of German mythology, two female figures typifying Music and Tragedy — one of them a likeness of his second wife, the other of the prima donna Wilhelmine Schroder- Devrient. A fourth figure was that of his son Siegfried. Underneath are three tablets, on which runs the inscription : *' Here, where my illusions came to rest, Wannfried be this house named." After extraordinary efforts on Wagner's part, ardently seconded by those who helped him, the theatre, with its many improvements on any building of the kind, was completed ; the operas that finished the Nibelung Ring were written, singers sought and engaged, an orchestra under Herr Richter numbering one hundred and thirteen performers, and including musicians from Vienna, Munich, Weimar, Hanover, Breslau, and other German towns, was formed, when rehearsals were continued for about three months, which were marked by that display of vanity, jealousy, and bickering that seems inseparable from members of the musical profession. August tTbe iRomance of a /iDab /iDoitarcb ^1 13th, 1867, was fixed as the day for the opening performance, which not only the King of Bavaria, but at his invitation the German Emperor, as well as the Emperor of Brazil, and the Grand Dukes of Weimar, of Baden, and of Mecklenburg, promised to attend. Early in that glorious month the little town of Bayreuth, which for years had lain undisturbed and almost forgotten, now roused itself to celebrate the great festival. Banners and flags hung from windows and jDOSts, the houses were garnished and painted, immense quantities of provisions laid in, and a new restaurant built. As early as the 6th of the month Ludwig arrived, though without the knowledge of the inhabitants ; for shrinking more and more from his kind, he had the train stopped some miles outside the town, where he was met by a closed carriage and driven to the Eremitage, an old palace sleeping in a sunny park, which had been prepared for him. It being his wish to attend the last of the series of rehearsals, none were allowed into the theatre on these occasions save a few persons who were hidden from his sight in the gallery. When the rehearsals came to an end, he suddenly left Bayreuth without waiting to receive his Imperial guest. The latter arrived the day previous to the first public performance, and was greeted by the thousands from every country in Europe who had flocked to the festival. These §8 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ included men distinguished in every branch of art, amateur musicians by the score, sightseers, travellers, the idle and the curious. Not only every hotel in the place, but every house capable of accommodating lodgers, was crowded, so that many sane and innocent people were glad to sleep in the lunatic asylum and the prison, those less fortunate passing the nights in the open air. By day a wild scramble for food was made at the restaurants, where hungry people, despairing of being served by bewildered waiters, snatched at German sausages and drew themselves tankards of beer, in the midst of general excitement and hilarious confusion that impressed the imagination and injured digestion. The first opera of the series, Rheingold, interpreted by famous artists, presented with splendid scenic effects, and without a visible orchestra, in a theatre whose auditorium allowed all present to see the immense stage, was received with delight. Applause greeted it throughout, and broke into wild enthusiasm as the heavy curtains noiselessly closed upon the last scene. Then came hearty and persistent cries for the composer and the singers, but none appeared, though Emperors and Grand Dukes waited to applaud. A notice written by Wagner on the following day explained the cause. In this he requested that the audience would not take it ill of either the author or the performers if they did not acknowledge the marks of approbation most kindly bestowed on them by the IRomance of a /in»a& /Iftonarcb 89 appearing before the curtain, ** as they have agreed to carry out this abnegation in order to present themselves before the public exclusively within the frame of the art-work represented by them." The same enthusiasm greeted each of the series ; only the first and second of which were heard by the German Emperor, who then left Bayreuth. The last of the series, Gotterdammerung, was marked by an incident that was widely commented on. As it ended, Wagner came before the curtain and made a brief, characteristic speech, in which he said : " To your favour and to the infinite exertions of my co-operating artists, you owe this deed. What I have to say to you besides this might be summed up in a few words, in an axiom. You have seen what we can do ; it is now for you to will. And if you will, we shall have an art." The Nibelung Ring series was repeated three times, for the last of which Ludwig returned to Bayreuth, and heard it from one of the Royal boxes over- looking the auditorium. No one but Wagner was allowed to speak to him during the performances ; him he had greeted with the words *' So the sun is really shining on your work," At the finish of the last of the operas, he rose from his seat and loudly applauded, his example being followed by all present. Wagner's appearance was greeted by rapturous cheers and showers of wreaths and bouquets. In a few words he expressed his indebtedness to the King, without 9c tlbe IRoiitance of IRo^alt^ whose assistance the theatre never could have been built, and to the artists who had interpreted him. The Nibelung Ring series was ended, he said, but he did not know if it would be repeated. For as he stood before that enthusiastic audience, Wagner knew that the festival had been a financial failure. In order to cover the enormous expenses of the performances alone, which amounted to about twenty thousand pounds, it would have been necessary that thirteen hundred subscription tickets should have been taken up, whereas scarce half that number had been sub- scribed for. A deficit of eight thousand pounds there- fore remained to weigh like a millstone round his neck. His followers urged Wagner to appeal once more to his Royal friend, but this he was most unwilling to do. Instead he addressed a circular to his patrons asking them to defray the debt, but only a few of them took any notice of it. The Bayreuth theatre was next offered to the managers of the Munich theatre, but the offer was declined. He then wrote to the Imperial Government praying for help, but no assistance was given him, and to pay pressing debts, money had to be borrowed on interest. In November his spirits were so depressed that he wrote to Herr Heckel : "I really am only waiting for a crowning abomination to decide me to break up everything, and that in the most literal sense. I shall then turn absolutely silent, and hand everything there tTbe IRomance of a /IDat) /IDonarcb 9t to the creditors of my undertaking without a word, exactly as with a legal bankruptcy." Herr Heckel had recently presented a set of Alpine flora to the King, and on the strength of that gift, desired to obtain an audience of his Majesty that he might tell him of Wagner's troubles. In answer to this sug- gestion, the composer wrote : " Oh yes, the King of Bavaria. As if there were any omission of mine to be repaired there. Don't you think that if any- body could do something in that quarter it would be myself ; and do you fancy I've not done my utter- most ? . . . What we brought about last year was a miracle, and will remain so as long as any one remembers it. But beyond that we can go no longer ; that we must recognise." Before the result of his " uttermost " could take practical shape, Wagner, in the hope of clearing his debt, agreed to conduct six concerts in London. Herr Heckel thought this act " to us Germans an eternal disgrace, that Wagner should have been forced to this step to cover the deficit on a national under- taking." These concerts of his own music, for which several of the Bayreuth singers were engaged, were held in the Albert Hall. Its size was more than sufficient to accommodate the audiences. The expenses of engaging performers and of having one hundred and seventy rehearsals, insisted on by Wagner, almost equalled the receipts. Under the circumstances he 92 Zbc IRomance of IRo^aitg refused to accept the considerable sum that had been guaranteed to him ; but those who engaged him, Messrs. Hodge & Essex, were equally generous, and after his departure sent him seven hundred pounds, which paid part of the debt on his theatre. Misfortunes are often followed by compensations. Though Wagner was bitterly mortified by the indiffer- ence shown to the music of the future by Londoners, yet his visit to the capital was made pleasant to him in various ways. Queen Victoria honoured him with an audience ; their present Majesties attended his concerts ; his countrymen feted him ; and one of them, Mr. Hubert Herkomer, painted his portrait for the German Athenaeum Club. Difficulties waylaid the artist, who, as Wagner was not willing to give him sittings, was obliged to study him where and when he could, permission being given him for this purpose to enter whenever he pleased the house where the composer stayed. At the end of a month, Mr. Herkomer's patience began to give way. " But I was wrought up to a curious pitch of excitement during this training," says he, " for I was affected by the personal power of the man over those around him, by the magic of his music, and by the face of this poet- musician, which when stirred by emotion was a grand reflection of his work. Now I doubt whether any man since Napoleon I. has been known to exercise such powers of fascination over his admirers as Richard RICHARD WAGNER, I882. [Facing page 92. Zbc IRomance of a /IDaO /iDonarcb 93 Wagner does daily, and will do to the termination of his physical life. You lose your identity when in his presence ; you are sadly inclined to forget that there is something else in the world besides Wagner and his music. You are under an influence that sets every nerve at its highest key." The artist could think of nothing but his subject, whose influence dominated him, until at last, weary of having the sittings postponed, he determined to paint him from memory. For two days he worked at the portrait, his imagination excited, his energy strung, and on the third showed it to Wagner. " Up to that time," says Mr. Herkomer, " he had but suffered me to be near him, paying little more attention to me than to an animal, but from the moment that he saw his portrait his demeanour changed, and never did a man show admiration more truly and heartily than did Richard Wagner on this occasion. How I had done it puzzled him. * You use witchcraft,' he said to me. So then he was ready to sit to me, and I was intensely eager, not to say nervous, to compare my impressional portrait with the original subject." Depressed from failure and greatly fatigued, Wagner returned to Bayreuth. The debt which his exertions had done so little Uo relieve crushed him. But soon after, the King once more came to his aid, when the Intendant or Secretary of the Royal Treasury, on behalf of his Majesty, undertook to pay the debt 94 XTbe IRoinance of IRo^alt^ in return for the sums realised by the production of the Nibelung Ring operas at other theatres than at Bayreuth, where, according to Wagner's original inten- tion, they were only to be played during his lifetime. The payment of this money was a special favour, for at this time Ludwig's mania for building had begun to drain his resources. Not satisfied with the castles erected by his father and his grandfather, he determined to eclipse them, and to raise himself palaces whose magnificence would realise the splendours of 'The Arabian Nights. One of these residences, Neuschwanstein, which was begun in 1869, is perched on the spur of a mountain, and stands some three thousand three hundred feet above the desolate ravine of the Pollat. Built in the Romanesque style with towers, minarets, spires, pitched roofs and pro- jecting balconies rising sharply against the sky, it commands superb views of the dark, mysterious gorge below, whose waterfall springs with a roar into unseen depths ; of the stately castle of Hohenschwangau rising from the woods beneath ; of the spreading valley lower still, verdant and watered by a curving river ; and of an ancient yellow-walled red-roofed town, the whole framed by the Bavarian Alps, whose sides are for ever coloured by sunlight, cloud, or starlight, and whose summits are crowned with snow. Twelve months after he had begun this castle in the air his Majesty desired to erect another not far Zbc IRomancc of a /IDa5 /IDonarcb 95 removed from Neuschwanstein, and called Linderhof. This was modelled on the style of the famous Trianon, for ever associated with the memory of Marie Antoinette, for whom, as well as for Louis XIV. and Louis XV., Ludwig felt a profound reverence such as it is safe to say no mortal ever felt before. Furnished in the style of these monarchs, its rooms, with their parquet floors, their ceilings, walls, and doors painted after the manner of W^atteau, were crowded with huge mirrors in gold frames, busts in bronze and marble, candelabra, screens, Sevres vases and figures, gilt clocks, gobelins tapestry, and innumerable bric-a-brac of that period. This castle is perhaps the only one in the world which has but one bedroom. Built of white marble, steps descend from its entrance to a lake in which fountains splash ; its terraced gardens lead to wooded hills ; its velvet lawns and shaded paths are crowded with statues of nymphs, gods, and goddesses ; and here and there are bronze pea- cocks whose tails, composed of hundreds of pieces of coloured glass, move mechanically, and dazzle the sight by their iridescence. Attached to this residence was a blue grotto which the King had constructed to imitate that wonderful product of nature at Capri, and in one way to surpass it ; for by an electrical contrivance the waters of his grotto continually changed their colour, while he, as in the winter garden of his Munich palace, dressed 96 Ube IRomattce of IRo^alti? as Lohengrin, sat in a boat drawn by a swan. Higher up, in the denseness of the woods, he built a hut which in all ways resembled that in one of the scenes of Wagner's opera JValkiire. Here, when weary of the tawdry glitter of the Trianon palace, he would come for change, when according to Carl Heigel, his poet laureate and one of his most interesting biographers, Ludwig would dress himself in skins and play upon a reed, a Royal Pan. Linderhof was not quite finished when it occurred to the King that a palace far more splendid might be raised on the wooded island of Herrenworth. Situated in a lonely district, some two hundred miles from the capital, and surrounded by an immense lake, it had once been famed for its Benedictine monastery. From this its learned body had been ousted and their home perverted to the uses of a brewery. In course of time ill-luck left the building a ruin. This was levelled by the King, who regardless of expense, began to build a palace intended to resemble Versailles and to surpass its splendours. Begun in 1878, this immense and magnificent building was never completed, for reasons which will presently be told. As it stands, this superb structure defies description ; its Hall of Mirrors, with its thirty-three crystal chandeliers, and its bronze candelabra, holding two thousand five hundred candles, being sufficient to give it the semblance of an enchanted palace. Ube IRomance of a ff^nb /Hbonarcb 97 That its cost was immense did not concern a man who had never been able to realise the value of money. While the greater part of it remained unfinished, he decided to rebuild the ancient castle of Falkenstein, and make it the most wonderful structure the modern world has seen. Part of his scheme for its adornment was that its walls should blaze with precious stones. Though the old castle was pulled down, no stone of the intended building was ever laid ; and though orders for a limitless quantity of jewels were given to the Munich jewellers, the gems were never supplied. Though it was plain to all that since his return from the Franco-Prussian war Prince Otto was insane, yet it was not until 1876 that it was found necessary to place him under restraint. He was therefore sent to the castle of Nymphenbourg, under the supervision of a doctor and attendants. This had a serious effect on Ludwig, who from this time began to fear that the same implacable, intangible enemy, impossible to wrestle with and conquer, was gradually, stealthily, creeping on him. As if to watch for that insidious enemy, he stared for long intervals into his looking-glass, where he saw the reflection of a pallid face nervously contracting and quivering, from the unfathomable depths of whose eyes a vengeful demon glared. " I could not swear that I am not mad," he once said, as he stared at that horrible vision. VOL, I. 7 98 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ Shrinking more and more from humanity, whose gaze he dreaded, he was now never seen by his subjects in the Royal box of the theatre. But as he was passionately fond of all stage representations, he had both operas and plays performed for his own benefit, and of course at his own cost. These took place in the Court theatre and usually began at midnight. A passage from the palace, which all were forbidden to enter and which was guarded by gendarmes, led to the Royal box. His Majesty's entrance to this was announced by the ringing of a silver bell, when the curtain went up and the waiting players began their parts. Save for the King, the theatre was generally empty. Occasionally, however, his Ministers were commanded to attend, and occupied boxes where they could not be seen by their Sovereign nor he by them. Here they were obliged to remain for hours, when no doubt they would have preferred to lie in their comfortable beds. This must have been especially the case when the plays performed were written by Carl von Heigel, the poet laureate or Court dramatist, from subjects selected by the King. These chiefly dealt with the legends connected with the Royal palace of Hohenschwangau, already utilised by Wagner, and with events in the lives of Louis XIV., Louis XV., and Marie Antoinette. Next in his extraordinary esteem for these personages came the Pompadour, who was frequently a prominent figure in these dramas ; Zbc IRomancc of a /IDa& /IDonaixb 99 though, says Heigel, who mentions the fact, the King blushed if the name of a member of the demi-monde were mentioned in his presence. In the privacy of his own apartments, actors recited the poems of Schiller and Racine to him ; and as already mentioned, singers beguiled him as he sailed in his swan-drawn boat through the lotus-land of his winter garden. There were other occasions when on moonlight nights he would sit on the battlements of the castle of Berg, while the famous tenor, Herr Nachauer, drifting in a boat on the still, shimmering lake below, sang the music of Lohengrin. All whom the King employed were richly rewarded for their services, extreme cases of which were the valuable diamond ring he gave to a shepherd who had shown him the way in the mountains ; the wreath of golden acorns he sent to Herr Schnorr, the painter of frescoes in the Royal palaces ; and the gift of fifty pounds to a soldier who won his admiration by the way in which he had sounded the bugle to announce the different courses at his Majesty's dinner-table. Besides being handsomely paid for his singing, Nachauer was presented with the suit of silver armour the King wore when he identified himself with Lohengrin. His Majesty's stay in the capital became rarer and more rare, during which time he was seldom seen by any one save his personal attendants, and when necessary by his Ministers. A.nd as one of his ever- loo TLbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ increasing dreads was that he would be shot at by a madman whom he imagined he had seen among the crowd that gathered daily round the palace gates to see him drive out, he ordered that such crowds should be dispersed. As he shrank back in a corner of his carriage, the blinds of which were drawn, he could not have seen the madman, nor could any man have seen him. Weary of the melancholy that overwhelmed him, impatient of his surroundings, he longed to establish a kingdom in India or Arabia. As there seemed no immediate possibility of being able to fulfil this wish, he endeavoured to get rid of his personality by dressing as Pan and living in a hut, or by donning the garb of a Turk and squatting in a kiosk. But disguise the outer man as he would, the inner man was unchangeable, blighted beyond all power of heal- ing by some power and for some purpose which seems pitiless to those who see but one of the lives of men. To drown the sense of dread ever rising round him like a tide destined to overwhelm him, he began to smoke opium and to drink a mixture of white Rhine wine and champagne. This was presented to him in a bowl of crystal or jade, the surface of the wine being covered with red rose-leaves and purple violets. He still continued to transact the business of his kingdom so far as to sign papers brought by couriers Ubc tdomancc of a /lDa& /iDonaixb lot from Munich to his castles in the mountains, and when necessary he returned to the capital or to the neighbour- ing castle of Berg to give audiences to his Ministers. The State banquets, receptions, and balls which his nobility expected him to give were presided over by his uncle, Prince Luitpold, at his Majesty's desire. Only on rare occasions could Ludwig be induced to be present at such scenes. When he sat at one of these public dinners, he would, to protect himself from the sight of a face whose plainness offended him, or from the presence of some disagreeable person, order a huge bouquet to be placed between them and him ; while to avoid conversation that bored him, he commanded the band to play so loudly that all voices were drowned in a storm of sound, usually a Wagner composition. In the winter of 1870, while riding desperately and despairingly through the night, his horse stumbled, fell, and threw him. Fortunately his friend and aide- de-camp. Count Holstein, was with him at the time. The accident, though not serious, gave a shock to his Majesty's nerves and prevented him from ever riding again. As swift motion through darkness excited and delighted him, he now drove in a carriage and four white horses in summer. As in winter carriage driving through the mountain districts was impossible, though hundreds of men were daily em- ployed to keep the roads in repair, he had a sleigh 162 tTbe IRomance of H^o^alt^ made, shaped like a swan, gilt, and with outspread iridescent wings. This conveyance, drawn by six horses, was brilliantly lit by electricity that glowed on cushions of sapphire velvet on which the King lay back, his haggard face pale as the dead, his wild black hair covered by a cap ornamented by a diamond aigrette, his eyes full of incommunicable thoughts, turning neither to the right nor to the left, as, swift as the wind, indifferent to hail or snow or howling storm, he fled along lonely and interminable roads, down precipitous valleys, past whispering woods, and through sleeping villages, a haunted man fleeing breath- lessly through darkness from the dread fate that pursued him and would not be outrun. These drives were generally continued until the pale light of dawn streaked the cold grey skies, when his horses, covered with foam, he languid from fatigue, reached one of his mountain palaces, and went to bed, from which he did not rise until late in the afternoon. Of all historical personages, those who appealed most to his imagination, and whom ultimately he came to regard as living realities, were Louis XIV., Louis XV., and Marie Antoinette. Not only did he erect palaces in imitation of those in which they had frittered away their useless lives, but statues and pictures of them were placed in every room he occupied. A bust of that ill-fated Queen was so situated in his bedroom in the Royal palace at Munich, that his eyes tTbe IRomance of a /lDa& /nbonarcb 103 might fall upon it when he woke. Not far from it stood a bust of Louis XIV. This, or a replica, was frequently honoured with an invitation to the King's dinner-table, when it was addressed with the most ceremonious respect. To one in particular of the statues of Marie Antoinette he paid profound homage, and after standing before it lost in admiration, he would back from its presence. His belief was that this representation of her Majesty shared with himself a horror of being stared at by the vulgar, and the servants were strictly forbidden to raise their eyes to her face. One day on seeing HefFelschwerdt, the Royal furrier, boldly look at the Queen, Ludwig compelled him to kneel down before her, and with outstretched hands to implore her pardon. CHAPTER IV The King Refuses to see Wagner— The First Performance of Parsifal— Wagner and his Family Start for Venice— Life in the Vendramin Palace— Wagner's Sudden Death— The King's Sorrow— A Midnight Journey to the Composer's Resting-place— Ludvvig Holds Seances — His Feelings towards the Crown Prince Frederick — The King's Extravagance — Seeks Loans from Foreign powers— The Only Joy of his Life — Strange Punishments Inflicted on his Servants — Com- municates with his Ministers through the Keyhole— Surrounded by Shadow Forms— Project for Deposing him — Inquiry into his Condition — His uncle, Prince Luitpold, Proclaimed Regent — Dis- approval of the King's Subjects— Bismarck's Help is Asked— The Chancellor's Advice — Ludvvig Defends himself— Commissioners and Doctors are Sent to the Dungeons — Intent on Suicide — In the Hands of Keepers— At the Castle of Berg- An Eventful Sunday Evening — Sought and Found — The Empress of Austria dreams of the King — Grief of the People— Last Scene of All. IN May, 1882, Wagner passed through Munich on his way home from Palermo, where he had finished the score of Parsifal^ which he spoke of as a '* stage consecrating festival play." On that occasion the King refused to see him. This was possibly due to Ludwig's mental condition at the time, rather than to any misunderstanding between them, for before the month ended the King sent Wagner on his sixty- ninth birthday a present of two black swans, which 104 tbc IRomance ot a /llia^ /iDonavcb 105 were afterwards regarded as birds of ill-omen. The first performance of Parsifal^ which could not have been given if his Majesty had not placed the orchestra of the Munich Opera-House at the composer's disposal, took place on July 26th, 1882. At the close of a banquet to the singers on the previous evening, Wagner said : '* May all the actors be possessed by the devil, and those in the auditorium at least receive him. If you do not all become crazy, our object will not have been attained." Only members of the Wagner Societies were permitted to attend the two first representations, "so as to be able to enjoy the new art-work without being disturbed in their devotion by rude utterances and stupid raillery, as they were at the Nibelung representations," as was stated by a Berlin journal. In the following September Wagner left Bayreuth for Italy, in the hope of benefiting his health, which from various causes, especially heart trouble, had been unsatisfactory for some time. A private saloon carriage conveyed himself, his wife, and their two children, together with Bulow's children, governesses, and servants to Venice, where they occupied a first-floor suite of twenty-eight rooms in the Vendramin palace on the Grand Canal. During the autumn, his health gave no special cause for alarm, and he was supremely happy in the companionship of his wife, who under- stood and worshipped him with whole hearted devotion. io6 ube iRomance of IRo^alt^ His mornings were spent in work, after an early dinner and rest he floated about the somnolent, soothing canals, was rowed to the Islands of Murano, or sat in cafes on the Piazetta, while the evening was given to music, reading, and recitation. Like all sensitive persons, he was subject to varying moods, when his spirits rose and fell. At one time he de- clared he would live till he was ninety, while at another he felt assured that Parsifal was his last work, and on being asked why, answered because he was going to die. Liszt visited him in November, and while in the Vendramin palace occupied himself in composing a piece for piano and violin, called The Mourning Gondola, as if, says he, " I were guided by a presentiment." On January 13th, 1883, Liszt left Venice, and on the 13th of the following month Wagner died. That morning he had risen as usual at six and set to work. A gondola had been ordered for four o'clock, but before that hour a severe attack of pain seized his heart, and he died in the arms of his wife. The German Consul at Venice was the first to telegraph the news to Ludwig, who was then staying at Neuschwanstein. As soon as possible he sent a telegram to Frau Wagner expressing his grief, and requesting her to await his wishes regarding the removal of the remains to Bavaria. These were expressed by the special messenger he sent to Venice, Zbc IRomance of a /iDab /Iftonarcb 1^7 Herr Gross, who was also the bearer of an autographic letter of condolence, and a wreath bearing the words, " To the Master, Richard Wagner, from his devoted admirer and King, Ludwig." The offer made by the Venetian municipality of an official funeral was declined ; but with every token of regret and respect the body was conveyed to Bayreuth, and buried in the garden behind the composer's house. The King was not present at the funeral, but was represented by Count Pappenheim. A few nights later, at ten o'clock, Frau Wagner received a telegram to say his Majesty was on his way to visit her husband's grave. Just as midnight struck in the church tower he reached her house, having travelled by special train as far as Schnabelweiss, and driven in a coach and four from there to Bayreuth, Pale as the dead whom he had come to visit at this solemn hour, his long black hair dishevelled, his eyes restless, unfathomable, full of dread, he stood before her muffled in his cloak, asking questions to whose answers he scarce Hstened, between seconds of abstraction and silence. Then by the light of a lantern making an orange patch in the blackness, he was guided to the grave, at which he gazed steadily for a few moments, strange thoughts stirring in his heart, wild questions throbbing in his brain, when suddenly he turned and strode towards his carriage, whose horses waited impatiently, the sound of their pawing hoofs alone breaking the io8 Ubc IRomance ot IRo^alt^ oppressive stillness of the night. A moment later he was retracing his weary journey back to Munich. From that time the King's mental condition became graver. All the instruments in the Royal palaces on which Wagner had played were covered with crape ; and he declared he would never listen to music again. He bitterly reproached himself for refusing to see the composer when last he was in Munich, and in his desire to express a personal apology and hold communication with his departed friend, he attended spiritualistic seances, when he believed his desire was gained, and that Wagner was with him once more. His affection for the musician was equalled only by his detestation of the Crown Prince Frederick, who as Inspector-General of the armies in Germany, visited Munich annually. Though on these occasions he was lodged at the Royal residence and splendidly enter- tained, Ludwig would never receive or see his guest and cousin, but always absented himself from the capital on the plea of ill-health. That he was jealous of the Prince's popularity with the army is possible ; but it has been suggested that his enmity was also due to some remarks made by Frederick on his Majesty's mode of life, which the latter never for- gave. As a result he contemplated building a Bastille, chiefly for the purpose of confining the future Emperor in its dungeons. As the time it would take to erect would delay his vengeance too long, he next Zbc IRomance of a fJ^a^ /in^onarcb 109 decided to organise a society of banditti, who no doubt would be picturesquely dressed, and whose principal business it would be to kidnap the Prince, carry him to the Bavarian mountains, and confine him in a cave where, according to the evidence given at the Commission to inquire into his condition, Ludwig might see him " pine away with grief and longing for his family." The second mission of the banditti was to rob the banks of Berlin, Vienna, and Munich and to bring the money to their Royal master, that he might continue the building of his palaces that had been stopped for want of funds. For though Ludwig had inherited large fortunes from his father and grand- father, and received a handsome revenue from the Civil List, he had spent his wealth in extravagant presents to his favourities and in the erection of magni- ficent residences, so that he was now forty thousand pounds in debt. To his surprise and indignation his Ministers refused to procure him further sums to carry out his wishes, when he made appeals through his adjutants and servants for loans from the Emperors of Brazil and Austria, the Shah of Persia, the Sultan of Turkey, the King of Sweden, and the Rothschilds. It was only when these ungracious persons had refused their aid that the banditti were thought of, for the King declared he must have money. In a letter he wrote to his Court furrier, who was no TLbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ also his confidant, he orders him to speak to a prominent politician named Ziegler. " Tell him," says this communication, which was placed before the Commission of Inquiry, *' the present Ministry must go ; they have made it impossible for me to keep them, but if he manages well and sets them packing, 1 will keep him, and he may propose his colleagues. Be quick about it. Tell him that in addition to the arrears he must raise a few millions, only the Chamber must not know for what purpose, and you must get the rest. Tell him that building is the only joy of my life, and that since all my work has been so shame- fully stopped I am miserable. All day long I think of nothing but abdication, suicide ; the situation is intolerable ; it must end. The building of my castles must proceed, and that will give me new life. Lay all this before him. It is an unworthy manner of treating me, for I could take the whole Civil List, it is my right, and I could go on with the bedroom at Linderhof, St. Hubert's Pavilion, and the building of Herrenworth and Falkenstein. The happiness of my life depends upon these. Tell Ziegler he must conquer all difficulties and triumph, and this at once ; that is the point." Crossed in his desires for the first time in his life, Ludwig became morose and vindictive. He continually spoke of sending his Ministers, who among other names he called " insects," to America, Zbc IRomance of a /IDa^ /IDonaccb III where they were to be placed under police super- vision — a punishment he had already dealt to two of his servants who had failed to recapture a bird that had escaped from its cage. Another servant who fell under his displeasure was obliged to wear on his forehead a wafer bearing the Royal arms. A footman was dressed as a fool and made to ride a donkey in public. At times his attendants were ordered to prostrate themselves face downwards on entering his presence, and on being allowed to rise, were required to approach him in a bent position. Above all, they were forbidden to look at his Majesty, and one of them, Meier, who had been his valet for fourteen years, was sentenced to wear a black mask for twelve months because he had looked the King in the face. Occasionally he spat in the faces of his servants, and beat them so soundly that, according to the evidence given before the Commission of Inquiry into his con- dition, and from which these particulars are taken, about thirty persons were more or less injured at his hands, while one man died from the blows he received. Another man, an aeronaut who had invented a flying machine for the King, was suddenly brought to the ground and to his death while experimenting with it. As Ludwig could not take the air in such a conveyance, he resolved to have a carriage drawn by peacocks ; but the birds being too stupid to enter into his Majesty's schemes, were ignominiously dismissed, though their 112 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ lives were spared. For the last two years of his life he declined to see " the rabble," otherwise his Ministers, and all communications regarding State affairs were conducted through his grooms and stable-boys. These were dressed in Turkish or in mediasval costumes, and served his meals in antique dishes, his wine in horn drinking cups. And not only were they forbidden to look him in the face, but to address him, his orders to them being conveyed by signs whose meanings they were obliged to guess at. Through the winter preceding his death, he at times declared it was summer, and to prove that it was, would dine out of doors, and at night row about Lake Sternberg, he apparently having lost all sense of feeling of temperature. At other times he would lock himself in his apartments, and whisper his orders through a keyhole, those who heard him being for- bidden to reply, but to scratch on a panel to show they understood. On arriving at the castle of Linderhof or when leaving it, he affectionately embraced a column which stands at its entrance ; he bowed with the utmost respect to a tree standing in the grounds ; and to a certain hedge he gave a benediction with out- stretched arms. In the gathering dusk he would start and listen to whispering voices none heard but him- self; or to sounds of footsteps without visible feet that fell softly as they approached him near and XTbe IRoinauce of a /IDat) /Ilbonaixb 113 nearer ; or his dark wild eyes would watch the move- ments of shadowy figures none else could see, who silent and dread, came and went unbidden, un- dismissed. As early as 1875 a project was mooted to depose Ludwig, but as he was then capable of attending Cabinet meetings and of transacting business, his family was opposed to this suggestion of the Ministry, which must call attention to his malady. It was only when the nation was on the verge of bankruptcy through his extravagances, when he persisted in asking loans from foreign Powers, when he refused to take part in State affairs, and could not be induced to sign documents, that his deposition was decided upon by the Govern- ment, and consented to by his family. As a first step the Ministers, who had carried on the business of the country on their own responsibility and at the risk of their lives, waited on the King's uncle. Prince Luitpold, and asked him to assume the Regency. That the change might be effected legally, it was necessary that evidence should be produced of the King's madness. Four eminent doctors were commissioned to inquire into his condition. As it was difHcult for all but his servants and grooms to see or speak to his Majesty, the medical men were obliged to represent themselves as agents of one of the Powers from whom he had sought to borrow money. The prospect of obtaining it was a sufficient passport to the King, whom they VOL. I. 8 ri4 UM IRomance of IRogaltg found a human wreck pitiable to see, heart-rending to talk with. As a result of their visit they drew up a report, signed June 8th, 1886, in which they declared they were unanimous in their opinion that he suffered from a form of insanity that was likely to develop, but in what direction it was impossible to say ; that this disease rendered him incapable of governing, and that they believed it incurable. Two days later a proclamation was issued announcing that Prince Luitpold had assumed the Regency of the kingdom, as the King's health no longer permitted him to transact affairs of State. The Government having been legally reconstituted, a decree was passed to ensure the safe custody of his Majesty's person by placing about him proper guardians and attendants. Strange to say, this action was not popular with his subjects. In the capital they had suffered no incon- venience under his rule, had not been strained by taxation, and were therefore unwilling to change the old order of things for a new which might not be so favourable to themselves. In the mountain districts, where so much of his time was spent, the King's deposition was regarded with hostility. In the erection of splendid palaces, by his profuse generosity, he had spent money freely among them. The fact that he was seldom seen by them, save by accident and at night, when seated in his swan-shaped carriage and bathed in a flood of electric light, he flashed past them XTbe 'tt^omance of a /ll^a^ /iDonaixb 115 on lonely mountain roads or through hill-perched villages ; that he dwelt in solitude ; that he sat a solitary spectator of operas and tragedies ; and that he was not as other men, impressed their imaginations and shadowed them with awe. Whether sane or insane, it seemed to them almost a sacrilegious act to depose their King, whom they were ready and willing to defend. News of the events that were taking place in Munich reached Ludwig unofficially, while he was staying at the castle of Hohenschwangau, and was heard by him with wrathful indignation. " I could endure to have the government taken from me, but to be declared insane, that I cannot outlive," he said. At this crisis his friend Field-Adjutant Durckheim, who was hostile to the course taken by the Ministry, sought the advice and help of Bismarck, whom Ludwig admired and with whom he was on friendly terms. Mounting his horse, Durckheim rode in breathless haste until he crossed the frontier and reached a telegraph office in the Tyrol, where his message was safe from interference. Then across the wires he explained the situation to the German Chancellor, whom he begged to interfere in Ludwig's behalf. In answer he was told, '* His Majesty should proceed at once to Munich and show himself to his people ; he should appear at the meeting of the Chambers, and look after his own interests." In giving this advice ii6 Ube IRomauce ot IRo^aiti? Bismarck believed that the King would follow it if sane, but that he would be unable to conquer his aversion to being seen if he were mad. He did not go to Munich, but as Bismarck said, " he drifted to his fate." Instead of going to the capital, Ludwig removed from Hohenschwangau to Neuschwanstein, which it will be remembered was higher up in the Bavarian mountains, and perched on a spur of one of them. Here he proposed to await events. On the evening of June 9th four Commissioners appointed by the Government to announce his deposition to the King, together with three doctors and the keepers who were to take charge of him, reached Hohenschwangau. A notice of his Majesty's deposition was no sooner posted on the door of the village Town Hall than it was torn down. On hearing of their arrival the King prepared for resistance. Telegrams were sent by him to the German Emperor, to Bismarck, and to the Emperor of Austria, asking for their help, all of which were intercepted. He also ordered a battalion of infantry from the neighbouring town of Kempten, and sent messages far and wide to his faithful mountaineers to come and protect their King. In the chill grey of dawn, while rain fell heavily and a dense fog hung above the dreary woods, the doctors. Commissioners, and keepers drove up the steep and winding mountain road leading to the castle XTbe IRomancc of a /IDaC> /IDonarcb 117 of Neuschwanstein, which, with its turrets, pinnacles, and towers, seemed some fantastic structure fashioned out of mists. At the great gates they were met by gendarmes who sternly and threateningly refused them entrance. Parade of authority and persuasion being alike unavailing, they were obliged to return. As they went down the mountain side they were met by a crowd of anxious peasants hurrying up, tan- faced, brawny, and wild-looking men, most of them armed, all of them eager to fall upon those who would molest his Majesty. As he was not among them, the Commissioners and doctors were allowed to pass unhurt. But scarcely had they reached the lower castle in safety, when it was surrounded by a troop of gendarmes, whose commanding officer arrested them and conducted them back to Neuschwan- stein. They were not honoured with an audience, but the King commanded that they should be flung into the dungeons, and there chained and flogged till the blood flowed. Later an order was given that their eyes should be put out. There were neither dungeons nor chains in the castle, so the " traitors," as his Majesty called them, were placed in the guardhouse, whence they were presently allowed to depart, and by six in the afternoon were on their way back to Munich. The day following, the doctors and keepers, with whom was the captain of the gendarmes at the castle, ii8 Ube IRomance of IRoi^alti? whose authority would be recognised by his men, returned to Neuschwanstein. Instead of their visit being resented, it was now welcomed, as it was momentarily feared by those around the King that he would commit suicide. It was evidently for this pur- pose that he continually asked for the key of the tower, which his valet assured him had been mislaid ; the tower evidently seeming to him a fitting place from which to make a dramatic ending by flinging himself into the black depths below. As he was in a highly excited condition, restless, turbulent, muttering unintelligibly, dreading the capture he foresaw, it was thought probable that if the doctors and keepers entered his apartments he would jump from one of the windows. Therefore, while unaware that they were in the castle, he was told by his valet that the key of the tower had been found. On this he came from his rooms with a swift determined step, but when a little way down the corridor, the keepers advanced from their hiding-places and laid firm, clutching hands on his arms. Stunned by the suddenness and in- dignity of the act, he made no effort to escape, but asked, " What do you want? What does this mean ^ " One of the doctors, von Gudden, came forward, and saying that this was the saddest task that had ever fallen to his lot, explained that owing to his Majesty's malady the Regency had been entrusted to his uncle. The doctor added that he would have the honour of TTbe IRomance of a /ll^a^ /IDonarcb 119 conducting his Majesty to the castle of Berg that afternoon. The King then allowed himself to be led to his bedroom, where the keepers released him but kept guard at the windows. Pale and haggard, with wild eyes and twitching lips, he stood in the centre of the room looking distractedly around him. Then with a supreme effort he mastered himself and spoke in a calm collected manner. He remembered meeting Dr. Gudden some years previously, and made many inquiries about Prince Otto. When they were answered, he suddenly asked, *' How can you declare that I am insane when you have never examined me and know nothing of my condition .'' " When told that there were sufficient proofs of his malady to show that it was necessary some measures should be taken to cure it, he asked how long would the cure take. Dr. Gudden thought it could not be accomplished in less than a year. *' Well, it could be made shorter, couldn't it, Dr. Gudden ? " he said. " You could get rid of me, like the Sultan, for it is very easy to put a man out of the way." " Your Majesty, my honour forbids me to reply," Dr. Gudden said. Without offering any opposition the King entered the carriage which was to take him away, only stopping in the courtyard to whisper a command to his valet to procure him some poison. The drive 120 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ to the castle of Berg was without incident, Ludwig remaining passive, silent, apparently lost in thought, his mind probably busy with some scheme for his escape. He arrived on Saturday, June I2th, 1886, and after a restless night, wished to rise at two o'clock, but was persuaded to remain in bed until six. In the forenoon of the next day he was taken for a walk by Dr. Gudden, during which he seemed so calm and reasonable, that the latter sent a telegram to Prince Luitpold, saying all was going on wonderfully well with his Majesty. In the afternoon the patient became restless and sent for the second doctor in attendance, Milller, to whom he spoke of poisons, and the ease with which a man could be prevented from ever waking from sleep, a subject that seemed to obsess his brain. After a dinner served at six o'clock, the King was taken for another walk by Dr. Gudden, who deceived by his calmness, turned to the keeper as they left the castle, and dispensed with his attendance, for which he said there was no need. All day a dull cloudy sky had threatened rain, which began to fall heavily about eight o'clock. As his Majesty and Dr. Gudden had not returned by that time, Dr. Miiller became uneasy and sent first one and then another gendarme to look for them in the adjoining park. As they could not be found, a searching party of aide-de-camps, keepers, soldiers, and servants was organised. Ex- Ubc IRomancc of a /II^a^ /lOonarcb 121 citedly, fearfully, lanterns in hand, ears strained, they went through the drenched and deserted park, but without finding the sHghtest trace of those they sought. All hope of finding them alive died out as party after party returned to the castle. Then suddenly, at about half-past ten, a wild commotion arose when a servant ran breathlessly with the startHng news that the King's hat had been found beside the lake. Scarce was this told, when another searcher brought word that his Majesty's coat and overcoat, with Dr. Gudden's hat and umbrella, had also been discovered on the bank. At that Dr. Mi^iller ran down to the lake, woke up a fisherman named Huber, and with him rowed slowly and silently over the dull waters that reflected the searching gleam of a lantern. Before long Huber gave a sudden cry, and jumping into the lake, clutched at something half seen that was drifting past them. A glance showed it was the King, but before attention could be given to him, a second object, stark and ghastly, passed as if pursuing that other figure, when it was also seized and pulled into the boat. Haste was made to gain the shore when, although it was apparent that such attempts were useless, efforts were made to restore animation, and continued until the castle clock rang midnight with heavy strokes that sounded as a passing bell. Whether the King, intent on suicide, not only drowned himself but the man 122 XTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ who would have rescued him, or whether he lost his life in striving to gain the opposite shore with the intention of escaping from his captors, are questions that must remain for ever unanswered. At the time this tragedy happened, the Empress of Austria was staying at the castle of FeldafRng, situated on the hills above Lake Starnberg, and almost opposite the castle of Berg. Always his favourite cousin, she and her daughter, the Princess Gisela, were the only women with whom he was on terms of friendship. Before his eccentricities had reached the stage of madness, he had often received visits from the Empress, and she alone had the privilege of entering at all times the guarded island of roses in Lake Starnberg. Sharing his tastes for art and architecture, and shrinking like him from intercourse with humanity, a strong bond of sympathy existed between them, as has already been mentioned. On that Sunday night when Ludwig met his death, the Empress, all unconscious of his fate, retired to rest early. A couple of hours later, as the anony- mous writer of that fascinating book. The Martyrdom of an Empress, relates, a wild scream alarmed her Majesty's attendants, who on rushing to her room, found her almost beside herself with terror, because of a dream from which she had just wakened, and which she could hardly convince herself was not reality. In this she had seen Ludwig standing by THE EMPRESS OF AUSTRIA IN COURT DRESS. [Fncina page i2?. zrbe IRomance of a ^a& /IDonarcb 123 her bed, looking pale and distraught, water pouring from his hair and clothes in torrents that threatened to flood the room and drown her. In the grey of morning, news of the tragedy- reached her. The following night, weighed down by heavy sorrow and sombre forebodings, she was rowed across the lake in the drenching mists and taken to the chapel in the castle of Berg where he lay. Having placed between his hands a bunch of the white blossoms he loved, she asked to be left alone with him. Then she went down on her knees beside him, sobs choking her, pity rending her heart, while she implored mercy for this man, haunted through life and doomed to a tragic death by some mysterious fate. Never until then had she fully realised the infinite relief and solace given by her faith in teach- ing that loving help may be afforded by prayer to the departed. An hour of silence and gloom passed before those who waited outside re-entered the chapel, where they found the Empress lying senseless on the floor. When with some difficulty consciousness was restored, she turned imploring eyes on those around her, saying, '* For God's sake release the King. He is only pretending to be dead that he may be left in peace and not tormented any more." On the morning of June 15th, after a requiem was sung, the King's remains were taken to Munich and placed in the Court Chapel. The dense crowds that 124 Xlbe IRomance ot IRo^alt^ for days flocked to pray for and say farewell to the King included large numbers of goatherds from the Bavarian highlands and peasants from the Tyrol. Such scenes of grief had never been witnessed as those which took place in this church, dark save for the lights standing like sentinels around that blue- draped catafalque. Men cried unashamed of their tears, women sobbed, the poorest brought wild-flowers which they knew were loved by this man who had exercised an extraordinary fascination over them. On Saturday morning, the 19th, another requiem Mass was sung for his soul, after which they carried his body through the city draped in black and showing every sign of sorrow. The doleful procession, which took care to avoid the streets and squares to which he had an especial antipathy, was headed by the veterans of the Bavarian army, together with deputa- tions from the Prussian Hussars, the Austrian infantry, and the Russian dragoon regiment of which Ludwig, who hated warfare, was honorary colonel. Next came five-and-twenty Gugelmanner or Brothers of the Misericordia, clad from head to foot in black habits, their eyes alone visible, candles in hand, their hoarse voices chanting prayers. The chief mourners were the Regent and his sons, and immediately behind them, side by side, walked the Crown Princes of Austria and of Germany, who were soon to follow Ludwig farther than the grave. Then after a long trbe IRomance of a /llbab /IBonaixb 125 line of minor princes, grand dukes, and officers of State, came an immense crowd of grief-stricken people. Arriving at the ancient church of St. Michael, the remains were interred in its vault to which three seals were attached, its three keys being severally given to the churchwarden, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, and the Court Grand Master. The King's heart was then taken under an escort of cavalry to the Pilgrimage Church of Alt Getting, where the hearts of the dead Sovereigns and Princes of Bavaria are inurned. At Ludwig's death his brother, Prince Gtto, became King of Bavaria. But as his madness prevented him from ruling, his uncle, Prince Luitpold, continued to act as Regent. The latter's eldest son Prince Ludwig, who is heir presumptive to the throne, married Marie Theresa, Princess of Modena, who is a direct de- scendant of Charles I. of England. II THE TRAGEDY OF THE DUCHESSE D'ALENgON 127 CHAPTER I Duke Maximilian of Bavaria — The Duchess Ludovica — Happy Children — The Strange Fate of Five Sisters — Prediction of a Bavarian Gipsy — The Princess Sophie as Queen-Elect — The King of Bavaria Breaks his Engagement — Supposed Reasons for his Action — The Princess Sophie Marries Ferdinand, Due d'Alengon — Her Hatred of Ceremony and Convention — Among the Woods at Vincennes — A Superb Trio of Beautiful Women — Intends to Sue for a Divorce — Alarm of the Orleans Family — The Due de Nemours' Arguments — His Daughter-in-Lavv's Replies — The Duke has Doubts of her Sanity — The Opinion of a Doctor — The Duchess is Sent to a Sanatorium — The Efforts of a Dominican Friar — A Change of Opinion Shows Recovery — Marriage of her Children — Devotion to the Poor — The Charity Bazaar in the Rue Jean Goujon — A Brilliant Scene — A Cry of Fire — A Huge Brazier — The Duchess's Presence of Mind — Her Resolve to Remain Until Others were Saved — The Last Sight she Saw — Terrible Scenes — The End of All. FROM earliest youth the fair, delicate features of the Princess Sophie of Bavaria had that pensive, almost melancholy expression which often shadows and sweetens the countenances of those fated to tragic deaths. Clear in its complexion, her long, rather narrow face was lighted by eyes whose colour was the blue of violets, its crowning glory a mass of auburn hair, sunny in its depths, soft and fine as silk, VOL. I. 129 9 I30 XTbe IRomance of IRoi^alt^ which she generally wore plaited and piled above her head like a diadem. Her father, Duke Maximilian of Bavaria, generally known as '' the Jolly Duke," because of his hatred of conventionaUty, his boundless good nature, and his love of ease ; and her mother, the Duchess Ludovica, a clever linguist, a skilled musician, sage and sympathetic, an ardent student, and a devoted mother, were the parents of five daughters who born in the old castle of Possenhofen, near Munich, spent a childhood the happiest, most untrammelled imagin- able : running wild and free about the surrounding woods, nut-gathering, seeking strange flowers and herbs, climbing the Bavarian Alps, and sharing the sports of their brothers. From such a life they went out into a world unlike that they had known, to mate with sorrow or to meet with death ; for the eldest died soon after marriage ; a second became Queen of Naples only to be flung from her throne ; a third, the Countess Trani, was widowed by the suicide of her husband ; a fourth, the Empress of Austria, after enduring inexpressible griefs, was murdered ; while for the Princess Sophie was reserved the cruellest fate of all. This it is said, was predicted for her by a Bavarian gipsy woman, olive skinned and sad eyed, whom during her wanderings in the woods, the Princess met one day, at a time when it seemed her peaceful joyous life might go on for ever. TLbc ZvtiQct>'s of tbe DucF^esse ^'Hlcncon 131 *' Do not fear water," said this woman of the seeing eye, as the young girl held out her palm, " but beware of another element ; for that which is the enemy of water is thy enemy." The favourite child and constant companion of her father, she shared his love of horses and dogs ; she was the wilHng helper of her brother, Duke Charles Theodore, in those boyish endeavours to heal the ailments of the Bavarian peasants which foreshadowed the devotion to philanthropy and skill as a doctor and oculist that has made him famous and beloved ; while from her mother she inherited a love of music and art. So that, sympathetic, beautiful, and accom- plished, she was a bride whom the highest and noblest might desire to win. At first it seemed as if she were destined to sit upon a throne, for when it was thought advisable for Ludwig, the young King of Bavaria, to marry, she was selected by his mother, who proposed to her on his behalf. Accepting her position as bride-elect, she drove about with the King when it pleased his Majesty to invite her, appeared with him in his box at the opera- house, sat to the artist who engraved her likeness with that of her future husband for the medals that were to commemorate their marriage, and showed a vivid interest in the preparations for that event. As already stated, Ludwig within a brief space of the date fixed for their wedding, suddenly and 132 ZTbe IRomance of IRo^alti^ determinedly declared his intention not to marry his cousin. This announcement created the wildest surprise among his subjects, who in seeking a cause for what was solely due to his eccentricity, framed a score of stories. Among them the most generally accepted was that which stated that an opera-singer who had fallen violently in love with him resolved to hinder his marriage with the Princess Sophie, from whom in some way she managed to abstract a turquoise ring given to her by his Majesty. Presenting this to a young lieutenant in the King's body-guard, who was deeply enamoured of her, the singer bade him wear it for her sake. This the officer, young in years and rich in vanity, willingly did, on which the King catching sight of it, immediately and impetu- ously, after the manner of heroes in dramas and novels, broke off his engagement to the Princess, whom on evidence so slight, he credited with being false to him. Unlike those who figure in the pages of romance or on the stage, the story failed to end happily in reuniting the engaged couple after chapters or acts of mystification or despair ; for soon the King began to betray signs of the malady that led to his tragic death, while two years later, in September, 1888, the Princess became the wife of Ferdinand, Due d'Alen^on, second son of the Due de Nemours, and grandson of Louis Philippe. The Prince, who was tbe Uraoeb^^ ot tbe Ducbesse b'Hlciicon 133 the handsomest of all the Orleans family, was at first devoted to his beautiful and intellectual wife, who in the course of years presented him with a son and a daughter. Like her father, " the Jolly Duke," like her eldest brother, who renounced his rights of suc- cession to marry morganatically Henriette Mendel, an actress, and like her sister, the Empress of Austria, she felt insufferably bored and trammelled by the ceremonies and conventions that hedge Royalty and smother natural feelings. Pitiful and laughable seemed to her the paltry efforts, mean devices, and base flat- teries of those who peopled courts and sought pleasure in their circles. And never was she so happy as when, far removed from them, she breathed the pure air and lived the free life of the country ; such as when at Vincennes, where with her children she wandered in the deep shade of fragrant woods, visited unattended the sick and needy, whom she left as enriched by her sympathy as by her gifts ; or when she rode over hill and dale with her sisters, the Empress of Austria and the ex-Queen of Naples, a superb trio of beautiful women and splendid equestrians. The greater part of her life was spent in Munich, where she must often have seen flash past her the Royal carriage, in a corner of which shrank the King whose queen she had so nearly been. In her spacious home in this quaint and ancient city, she delighted in surrounding herself with artists, singers, 134 Zhc IRomance of IRo^alt^ and authors, whom she hospitably entertained. The pain of seeing their affections slighted and sup- planted, which so many wives are fated to bear, was not spared her. That her experiences were not un- usual was little consolation. Intellectual and original, her views of life and conduct did not run in the con- ventional stream, and it seemed to her that the fact of being a princess ought not necessarily to force her to endure wrongs that stung and humiliated her as a wife. To one of her Church and of her order, the step of freeing herself from the marriage bond must have appeared desperate ; but for all that she resolved to take it. She therefore made plain her intention of seeking a divorce from her husband. This resolve came as a thunderbolt to the Orleans family, who foresaw in it the overthrow of their still cherished schemes to regain the throne of France ; for such a scandal, it was argued, so contrary to the doctrines of the Church, would be a signal for all Catholics, on whose adherence they counted, to desert the Orleanist cause. Summoned in wild haste, her husband's family gathered round her, the Due de Nemours at their head. Overwhelmed with rage and indignation, he represented to her that her intended action must prove a fatal blow to his House, which elicited from her the astonishing opinion that crowns were a heavy weight, kingship a responsible office, and that in the track of Royalty Zbc Uraae^^ of tbe Bucbesse ^'Hlencon 135 followed woe. Distraught by such an answer, he pointed out that the scandal of a divorce would hinder her children from making suitable alliances. To this she replied that her daughter would probably be far happier as the wife of a professional man than as that of a scion of Royalty. Such radical ideas made it clear to the Duke that her mind was unhinged. It also made his duty clear to him. Summoning a doctor to examine the Duchess, her father-in-law was assured that his opinion was correct, for the medical man declared she suffered frorr a severe nervous disorder which could best be treated within the high walls of a lunatic asylum. Grieved as the family were at this verdict, they agreed that it was best for her welfare that she should be placed under restraint, and she was therefore taken to a private sanatorium near Gratz. Here she was constantly visited by a Dominican friar famed for his piety and persuasiveness. In the course of a short time both impressed her ; she became deeply religious, joined the third order of St. Dominick, abandoned her intention of seeking a divorce, and resigned herself to her fate. Simultaneously with this resolution came the announcement of her com- plete recovery. Once more she was a free woman, somewhat sadder and paler than before, but with an added sweetness to her pensive smile, her violet eyes showing shadowy impenetrable depths of calm. 136 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ Both her children married to the satisfaction of their family ; her son, Emmanuel, Due de Vendome, wedding a daughter of the Count of Flanders, son of Leopold, the first King of the Belgians ; while her daughter, the Princess Louise, became the wife of Prince Alphonse of Bavaria, cousin of Ludwig the mad monarch, and son of the Regent, Prince Luitpold. Henceforth the Duchesse d'Alen^on devoted her whole life to charitable works, and never did she seem more happy than when attending the sick or helping the poor. It was while engaged in doing good that she met her terrible death ; she being one of the Royal, noble, and aristocratic women who interested themselves in the bazaar organised by the Fr^res de I'Assomption for the benefit of the poor of Paris. To accommodate this fancy fair, a temporary structure of light varnished pine-wood, with a tarred tarpaulin over its roof, was erected on a piece of waste ground formerly occupied by a stable in the Rue Jean Goujon, and not far from the Champs Elys6es. Interiorly the ugliness of its yawning roof was hidden by flags and banners. Its booths or stalls were con- structed of painted canvas and wood to resemble shops in a street of old Paris. At the end of this long narrow building, and connected with it was a small room, also of wood, entrance to which was gained by a turnstile, where cinematograph pictures were shown. There were nine doors in all, three of which opened SOPHIE CHARLOTTE, UUCHESSE D ALENCON. [Facing page 136. tTbe ZEraGe^^ of tbe Ducbesse &'Blencon 137 on the Rue Jean Goujon, one at the side, and five at the back. On the afternoon of May 4th, 1897, while all Paris was basking in the brilliancy of unclouded sunshine, and the intense heat was relieved by a vivifying breeze, there had gathered here a crowd numbering some twelve hundred people, among them the highest nobility of France, as well as those connected with diplomatic circles, and those notable for their wealth. Among them women predominated, their light and brilliant costumes making masses of gorgeous colour, ever changing as they moved to and fro, recognising and greeting each other, buying or selling. All of them had come to assist a charity, as they believed, but in reality to suffer or to witness death in its most appalling shape. The Duchesse d'Alen^on, looking wonderfully young for her fifty years, handsome, gracious, and beautifully dressed, had taken her place behind her stall soon after mid-day. The rapidity with which she sold its wares for considerable sums that would bring relief to the poor delighted her. By four o'clock, when her stall was almost bare, she complained of feeling tired, and sat down. At the same time, while a number of people were packed in the room looking at the cine- matograph, the flame of its lamp, blown sideways by the breeze from an open window, caught some canvas. In an instant a flare of yellow light dazzled the sight, a cry of fire was raised, and a wild rush was 138 Zbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ made to the narrow entrance blocked by the turnstile. This was soon down, and escape was made into the bazaar where, fleet as were those who sought safety, the fire had already sprung ahead of them, gloating fiend-like in swift, insatiable destruction as it reached the fluttering flags, the flimsy banners, the lath and canvas of the gaily painted booths, the pine-wood frame, and then with a furious roar mounted to the tarred cloth which covered the roof. In an instant a fear of the most horrible death imagination can conceive struck terror in the hearts of each one in that struggling crowd. None saw the danger more clearly than the Duchesse d'Alen^on, who with great presence of mind jumped on her stall and called out to them to act calmly, saying all would have time to escape if the doors were not blocked. She might as well have called to a herd of frightened cattle, for all battled their way towards the exits ; men, for- getting their manhood, striking and pushing ; women appealing, screaming, and weeping frenziedly ; the vast human tide kept back by the bodies that had fallen in the doorways and were being crushed to death under the heels of the strong and ferocious. Soon she must have realised that escape for all was impossible, and that she herself must be among the victims. A young girl who assisted at the Duchess's stall begged her to endeavour to escape, but calmly, resolutely, she answered that the visitors must first be saved. Again, t:be t^l•aoe^^ ot tbe Ducbesse b'Hlencon 139 more earnestly, her companion urged her to leave while yet there was time, but met with the same reply, and then was parted from her by the terrible rush towards the doors. The last scene witnessed by her on earth was enough to scare the bravest soul. For now the whole place became as a brazier, burning flakes of tar dripping from the ceiling on shrieking victims, the walls hissing and roaring as in derision, the laughter of a maniac sounding more mocking still, clouds of foul suffocating smoke rolling heavily, in the midst of which, as in some hell, women were seen to tear from their breasts and shoulders their flaming dresses, or with burnt hands to endeavour to quench the flames of their blazing hair, until at last suddenly, mercifully, the roof fell, burying under its burning weight the bodies of those who writhed in inexpressible agony. The terrible fire had been so sudden in its outbreak, so swift in its destruction, that on the arrival of the fire brigade — delayed through some trifling accident, as so often happens at such perilous occasions — nothing could be done to quench the triumphant flames or to save the victims. However, almost from the first a hose belonging to stables in the vicinity had been at work, but had been able to effect little good against such terrible odds. A number of those who had escaped by the back entrances still found themselves face to face with death, as they were pent in a space I40 tlbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ between the burning structure and the high walls of houses whose fronts looked on the Cours la Reine. From this pen there seemed no exit. The stolid monotony of that great mass of wall was broken by a single window heavily barred and at a considerable distance from the ground. With charred clothes, singed hair, overcome by heat and stricken by fear, they looked in vain for deliverance. But presently, when the flames had almost licked their faces, the bars were forced from the windows and a chair lowered by ropes, by which means they were rescued. Those who crowded round the front of the building, distracted by terror lest those they loved were being burned to death while nothincj could be done to save them, witnessed appalling sights. Through a window of the building a ball of fire was seen to issue, which proved to be the body of a child flung with the strength of madness by its mother from the raging hell. And through the doors escaped after terrible struggles, in which self-preservation trampled down all other considerations, women half naked, women wrapped in flames, women bereft of reason ; and men with burnt hair and beards, their faces marked by blows and streaming with blood, the fury of beasts in their eyes, the strength of beasts in their limbs. In a couple of hours from the outbreak of the fire, while the sun yet blazed in the serene and cloudless sky, nothing was left of that fatal building, Zbc ITraaeb^ of tbe Bucbcsse &'Blcncon mi where upwards of two hundred persons lost their lives, but a few charred posts rising above the blackened, smoking ruin, finger-signs, as they seemed, pointing to the indescribable, shapeless mounds that marked where the entrance doors had been. The fact that one woman, who in making her escape had lost her reason, and called herself the Duchesse d'Alenc^on, whom she had seen perish in the flames, gave a momentary hope to the Princess's family that she was among the saved. When this was taken from them, a search for her remains was begun while yet the scene was unendurable to all save those who were anxious to recover the ashes of their beloved dead. This was headed by the Due d'Alen^on, who had been in the building when the fire broke out, but at a distance from his wife. While making a desperate attempt to reach and rescue her, he received a blow across the forehead, and was forced to the door, and out of the place. Now going to the spot where the Duchess had last been seen, her husband and son found a charred body, one among many which were unrecognisable. Beside this, and among the debris^ was seen a glint of gold, which on examination proved to be a wed- ding ring bearing the inscription, " 28th Sept., 1868 ; Ferdinand d'Orleans, Sophie de Baviere." This in itself was no evidence that the remains beside which it was found were those of the Duchess, and it was not until her dentist identified them by the gold stopping 142 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ of a tooth that doubt regarding them was set at rest. They were then reverently taken to her home in the Avenue de Friedland, where for days and nights they were watched over by sisters of charity and the members of her family. Eventually, on May 15th, they were laid at rest in the Royal Chapel of the Orleans family at Dreux. Ill THE STORY OF ISABEL II. OF SPAIN 143 CHAPTER I A Memorable Sunday in Madrid — Hopes and Fears of the People — Prayers for a Male Heir to the Crown — Fernando VII. and his Fourth Wife — A Determined Woman — Abolition of the Salic Law in Spain — Resentment of Don Carlos — Crowds Gather round the Palace — Scene in the Queen's Anteroom — Awaiting a Momentous Event — The King's Calmness — The Birth of a Princess — The King's Illness — He Restores the Salic Law — The Queen's Influ- ence over her Consort — The Destruction of a Deed — The Infant Princess receives the Oaths of Allegiance from the Grandees — The King's Death — Two Monarchs are Proclaimed — The Horrors of Civil War — How it came to a Close — Queen Cristina and the Guardsman — Her Majesty Quits the Kingdom — Attempt to Kidnap the Little Queen — Cristina is Permitted to Return — Isabel begins her Reign at the age of Thirteen — Lord Malmesbury's Account of her Prime Minister — She is Charged with Falsehood in the Cortes — Her Personal Appearance — The Question of her Marriage — The Right Hon. Henry Lytton Bulwer — Louis Philippe desires Isabel to Marry one of his Sons — The English Govern- ment Objects — Lord Palmerston's Views on the Alliance — Various Candidates — Don Francisco de Assisi — The Semblance of a Man — Announcement of the Royal Marriages — The Correspondence of Queen Isabel with Queen Victoria — Louis Philippe's Breach of Faith — The English Sovereign Writes him a "Tickler" — Lord Palmerston Wishes to Prevent the Marriage — The French Princes Arrive at Madrid — The English Ambassador is Waited on by a Polite Criminal — Celebration of the Double Marriages — External Signs of Rejoicing. ON this bright Sunday morning in October, the sky clear in its impenetrable blue, the air bracing, the congregations pouring from the various VOL. I. MS lO 146 tlbe IRoinance of IRo^alt^ churches in Madrid wore a serious air unusual to such volatile people. As they moved slowly down narrow streets in the shadow of high houses, or crossed wide squares basking in sunshine, no coquettish gesture lifted a mantilla to let fly bewildering glances, no fan telegraphed its commands to those whose grave faces looked graver still under the dejected droop of their sombreroes. For from every pulpit and altar they had been reminded of the fateful issues depending on the event hourly, nay momentarily, expected — the birth of an infant to their Sovereign ; and they had been asked fervently to petition Heaven to send them a male child, so that the appalling terrors of civil warfare might be spared their nation, and the peace of Europe be maintained. The monarch to whom this child was about to be born was Fernando VII. of Spain, who had been three times widowed and four times married, and who up to this date, October loth, 1830, was without offspring. The wife selected, in the hope of remedy- ing this want, was the Princess Cristina, a daughter of the King of Naples, usually known as Bomba. Young and handsome, free-mannered and amorous, the Princess Cristina was willing to become the fourth Consort of a King who, undermined as his constitution was by dissipation, would presumably soon make her his widow. A woman of strong character, some craft, and boundless ambition, she desired not Uhc Ston> of Isabel ll. of Spain m? only to become the wife, but the mother of a sovereign. Therefore, before the entrance into this world of strife of her child, the only one which the threatened life of the King might permit her to bear him, she had induced Fernando to abolish the Salic law which the Bourbons had introduced in the beginning of the eighteenth century — preventing female monarchs from reigning in Spain — and to re-establish the former order of succession ; so that whatever the sex of the expected infant, it would be regarded as heir to the Crown. This act had been bitterly resented as a personal wrong by the King's younger brother, Don Carlos. The fact that the Sovereign's previous marriages had failed to bring him an heir was considered by Don Carlos as a special intervention of Providence in his favour. A fourth marriage was a reprehensible endeavour to deprive him of the monarchy, while the abolition of the Salic law was to his mind a flagrant wrong impossible to endure. Inflexible as he was, narrow, despotic, and indifferent to the suff^erings of others so long as his ambitions were gratified, it was foreseen that should the child about to be born prove a girl, Don Carlos, in the fight for what he regarded as his rights, would not hesitate to drench his country with the blood of her sons. It was therefore no wonder that anxiety, nay terror, filled the hearts of the people, who in a dense, eager crowd surrounded the Royal palace, stern in its stony 148 tTbe IRomance of IRo^altp massiveness, imposing in its size and strength, silent, the scene of many events mysterious, tragic, and dramatic, but none more important than that now about to take place. As they stood in the deep shadow of the walls, all eyes watching for the hoisting of the flag, all ears alert for the booming of the cannon that would announce the birth of this child, a crowd less in numbers, -but sharing their inquietude and suspense, waited in the high-ceilinged, wall-painted, wax-floored antechamber of the Queen. Here were assembled the great officers of the State, privileged representatives of the highest nobility, prominent members of the Household, the ambassadors of European Powers. Instinctively, and almost uncon- sciously, the Spanish grandees present had drawn themselves into separate groups, composed of those ready to uphold Don Carlos, and those who were willing to accept as their future Sovereign the child about to be born, irrespective of its sex. Somewhat apart from them, looking worn from illness and pale from apprehension, stood the King, whose narrow face with its long nose, dull eyes, and thin, cruel lips, showed an unflinching calmness that gave no hint of the torturing uncertainty that tore him. Now and then bestrode backwards and forwards, speaking a word or acknowledging the profound bows of those on whom his furtive glances rested ; now and then he paused at one of the high windows, Tl\K Storp of Isabel II. of Spain 149 from which he looked at the capital with its irregular rows of yellow roofs, its church towers and brown belfries cutting the deep blue ; or gazed downwards to where watchful sentries guarded the palace, and murderous black-mouthed cannon stood ready for foul work. The nervous strain felt by all in the room made conversation impossible ; the whispers that occa- sionally cut the heavy silence seemed intrusive ; and many started when the great clock in the neighbour- hood of the palace struck two with something of the solemnity of a funeral toll in its sound. Meantime they listened with breathless attention to footsteps occasionally heard, to rapidly spoken phrases, to moans of insupportable anguish, behind the closed doors of her Majesty's room. Suddenly and softly these were flung backwards to show a resplendently dressed and buxom midwife standing on the threshold, a figure that represented Fate, for on her words would hang the weal or woe of a nation. In an instant the King stepped forward, then breathless, his pallor deepening, he paused, unable to speak. In another instant the woman had announced to him the birth of a Princess. A low, scarce expressed but irrepressible murmur of triumph rose from his brother's adherents as his Majesty passed into the Queen's room, to return presently bearing on a golden platter the new-born wailing morsel of humanity which he presented to all assembled. ISO XTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ Within a few days of the birth of this Princess, who was baptised Isabel, a proclamation was secretly issued by the supporters of Don Carlos which said : " Royalists, Divine Providence has just manifested to the Spanish nation, by the birth of an Infanta to our present ruler, that the august personage to whom the sovereignty of Spain in right and justice belongs ought to be at once acknowledged. Our beloved Carlos should be proclaimed forthwith as the Sove- reign of our country, as he is already of the hearts and hands of every well-intentioned Spaniard ; and Fernando should be made to abdicate in favour of the person who alone is worthy to be our King. Let us unite then, and with one voice show that we are no longer to be made the catspaw of a vile Court, whose only object is to plunge our country into rum. It was not alone because of internal strife that it seemed doubtful if this Princess would ever sit upon the throne ; for within twelve months of her birth it was evident that her mother was again about to give birth to a child, and once more hopes were entertained and prayers offered that a son might be given her. Both were vain, for the infant born in January, 1832, was a girl, baptised Fernanda. In the month of July in this year a sudden illness seized upon the King, who it was believed was dying. It may have been that while hanging between two worlds XTbe Stor^ of Isabel ll. ot Spafn 151 in a room in the palace of La Granja, not far removed from the tomb whose sombreness and silence his apartment foreshadowed, that pictures of flaming cities, devastated plains, carnage, desolated homes, bloodshed, cruelties, and all the appalling, indescribable miseries which civil warfare brings rose in lurid colours before him, terrifying his shrinking soul. At all events, in these hours, which were thought to be his last, he signed a document that restored the Salic law, and left his brother Don Carlos once more heir to the Crown of Spain. When eventually Fernando, weak and spectral, struggled from out the valley of the shadow of death, the affrighted visions of war's calamities began to fade from his sight, and the representations of his young Consort to have effect upon him. Energetic, cunning, and resolute, she who during his illness had acted as Regent, was determined that Don Carlos should once again be set aside in favour of her own daughter. Throughout his reign Fernando, malignant and cowardly, had shown himself a bitter enemy towards freedom and enlightenment, and had yielded to liberal measures only under fear of revolution. But though little progress could be gained under one who closed the universities and would have abolished the Constitution, there was still less hope for advancement under the reign of his brother Don Carlos, a narrow-minded bigot in religion, an absolutist in politics, whose 152 TL\)C IRomance of IRo^alt^ ideas regarding the Sovereign's dominion over his people were those of the dark ages. Aware of the dread with which his assumption of the Crown was regarded by the Liberals throughout Spain, the Queen Consort sent for one of their ablest, most enlightened leaders, Martinez de la Rosa, who had already suffered exile for his adherence to his principles. According to the biography of Isabel II. by Jann Winn, to which, with M. Morel's Isahi IL, Reine d'Espagne, the writer is indebted for many details, an agreement was soon come to between the patriot and the Queen, in which she promised as Regent to grant liberal measures, to show mercy, and to sanction such changes in the Constitution as his party might desire, in return for their support to her daughter's claim to the Throne. Cristina kept her word so long as her husband's illness prevented him from interfering ; so that the universities were reopened, political prisoners pardoned, industries encouraged, and the Cortes or Parliament summoned. Finally, the deed in favour of Don Carlos, which Fernando had signed on what he believed to be his deathbed, was destroyed. In another, written by his own hand, and dated December 31st, 1832, he said that his Royal mind having been taken by surprise in moments of agony, to which he had been brought by a serious malady from which Divine mercy had saved him in a pro- digious manner, he had signed a decree repealing OUEEN ISABEL II. OF SPAIN. [Facing page 152. Xrbc Stov\? of Isabel II. of Spain 153 the Pragmatic Sanction ; but as this had been obtained from him by surprise and misrepresentations, he now declared it null and void. It was in accordance with this change that on June 2oth following (1833) the great officers of State, the grandees of Spain, and the members of the Cortes, were summoned to the church of San Geronimo to take a solemn oath of allegiance to the future Sovereign of Spain, the baby Princess Isabel. The blaze of splendour — innumerable lights upon the altars, vestments of gold cloth, the gorgeous mediaeval costumes of Court officials, the scarlet of uniforms, the purple and crimson of Royalty — filling the grey old church, did not exorcise the sense of fear that crept into many hearts during that imposing ceremony. One face was sought for and missed by all — that of the dark, gloomy, and sinister Don Carlos. Not only was he absent, but a protest of his rights to the Crown was issued by him ; as a consequence of which he and many of his followers were forbidden the kingdom. The next step in the eventful drama of Isabel's life was the sudden death of her father from apoplexy on September 29th in this year (1833). Almost simultaneously Isabel was proclaimed Queen, and Don Carlos King of Spain under the title of Charles V. From this time for almost seven terrible years civil war was waged in Spain, the country was soaked in blood, innumerable lives were sacrificed, and acts of 1 54 ^f3c IRomance of IRo^alts sickening cruelty, ghastliness, and barbarity were perpetrated by a Christian people in the hope of placing on the throne a person who could make no amends to the country for such loss, and who was almost certain to prove, no matter who was victor, a curse to the nation. Don Carlos's claim was supported by the Church, whose enormous properties had been confiscated ; by the nobility, who clung to feudalism ; and by the peasantry of the north, who feared that certain ancient privileges of theirs would be disregarded under a new order of things. Isabel's claim was upheld by the greater portion of the army, by the Cortes, and by the great body of the middle class. The Carlist army was led by General Marato, whose skill and courage made him the idol of his followers ; while the Cristina troops were under the command of General Baldomero Espartero, an able soldier, rarer still in Spain, an honest man, one whose exploits raised him to heroic heights in the eyes of Isabel's adherents, and brought him many honours from the Regent. Success seemed at first to favour the Carlists, but later they met with severe reverses. Towards the end of seven years of bloodshed, Marato began to realise that his endeavours were vain, and that his men were not only worn out by prolonged hardships, but had lost faith in Don Carlos, whose general inability, apathy, and timidity had damped XTbe Stor^ of Isabel ll. ot Spain 155 such enthusiasm as they had felt for him at a time when he was personally unknown to them. Marato, therefore, turned his thoughts towards compromise, and made eiForts to gain an honourable peace. But arbitration is slow work in Spain where all things unconcerned with the heart are left till to-morrow, and when at the end of two years it showed no result, this brusque soldier became im- patient. Thereon, according to Jann Winn, Marato suddenly appeared one morning in the enemies' camp, and asked to be taken to General Espartero. Brought face to face with him, Marato coolly proposed that they should throw dice for victory. His suggestion was accepted in the spirit in which it was made ; the dice were rattled and thrown, Espartero won, and a cruel war was at an end. On the following day, the last in August, 1839, when the two opposing armies were drawn up a little distance from each other, and apparently ready for battle, Marato rode forward, and with every sign of emotion, declared he could no longer bear to see the sons of this noble land slaughter each other, or endure to take part in a war that brought such havoc and misery to all. At the close of a brief stirring speech he flung himself into the arms of Espartero, who embraced him warmly. No sooner did their respective troops witness this scene than they rushed wildly towards each other, no longer with intent to kill, but in the desire to 156 XTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ embrace, an act that was the sign of mutual forgiveness for the horrors and wrongs each had suffered at the hands of the other during this appalling war. Before the day ended they marched towards Madrid cheering, shouting, singing, giving wild expression to their joy after a period of intolerable hardship. On their entry into the capital they were received with a fury of enthusiasm such as never greeted victors. This desertion of his cause by the greater portion of his army did not prevent Don Carlos from endeavouring to continue the war ; but his manifestoes and pro- clamations fell upon weary ears, and his petty outbursts of warfare were quickly extinguished. Having passed six years under police supervision at Bourges, he resigned his claim to the throne in fwour of his eldest son, the Comte de Montemolin, in 1845, and was allowed to leave Spain. During the seven years' civil war, many stirring events had taken place in Madrid. Soon after the King had been laid to rest in the silence and peace of the Escorial, his widow began to show unmistakable signs of appreciation for a splendidly built young private in the Guards named Fernando Munoz. Coming from the lower ranks of the people, without abilities or ambition, he owed the Queen's favour solely to his handsome presence. Within three months of her husband's death — on December 28th, 1833 — the Church had blessed her union with the man of trbe Stor^ of Isabel IL of Spain 157 her choice, but this was not only kept a secret, but at a time when she had borne Munoz children was absolutely denied by her, as her acknowledgment of a second marriage would have prevented her from acting as Regent and securing the splendid salary attached to that office. As she preferred power and gain to her good name, she was obliged to suffer the consequences ; for as the young Guardsman was con- tinually beside her, not only at Court, but when she went abroad, and as her denial that any legal tie bound them was generally accepted, the worst construction was placed upon their relationship by the people and the press. This was one cause of her loss of popularity. There were others at work to bring about her down- fall. Almost from the beginning of her Regency the country had been divided into three political factions. Rapid changes of Government had taken place ; intrigue had succeeded intrigue ; bribery was rampant ; men held power to enrich themselves by gigantic and scarcely concealed frauds ; and revolution was not infrequent. One of these, which took place soon after the close of the war, was caused by Cristina's favour of the Conservatives, and of her signing at their dictation a Bill that was believed to infringe certain constitutional rights. Strongly opposed by Espartero, now Due de Vittoria, and the most popular man in Spain, she was obliged to quit the 158 ^be IRomance of IRo^altg kingdom in October, 1840, and went to France. Her feelings towards Espartero were expressed with feminine bitterness in the last words she addressed to him. " Adieu, Espartero," she said. " I have loaded you with honours, I have raised you to the highest rank, I have made you everything but a gentleman ; that you must be born, not made." Soon after her departure, Espartero published the official proof of her marriage, which prevented her from ever resuming the Regency ; and at the same time he exposed the methods by which she had greatly enriched herself at the public expense. Absence from Spain did not prevent Cristina from plotting against her successor in the Regency, Espartero. One result of such intrigues was an in- surrection whose object it was to take the Princesses by force from the Regent's power. For this pur- pose the Royal palace was surrounded one night — October 7 th, 1841 — at a time when, silent and wrapped in darkness, it was supposed its inmates slept. Bribery or persuasion enabled the insurgents, under the leadership of Don Diego Leon and General Concha, to enter the palace stealthily. Gaining the vast hall, dim and shadowy, a rush was made towards where a gleam of white indicated its magnificent marble staircase. Suddenly, unexpectedly, they were met by the palace halberdiers. A wild shout, the quick exchange of musket shot waking them from sleep. xrbe Stoi*^ ot Isabel II. of Spain 159 brought a crowd of officials and servants, carrying lights, to the balustraded lobbies, looking from which they saw fierce blows exchanged, the swift flash of merciless steel, blood flowing over the polished steps, down which bodies rolled and were trampled upon by those sternly fighting their upward way. The little Queen and her sister, cowering behind locked doors, listened with terror, said their prayers, and called for a confessor, believing their last hour was at hand. Eventually, overcome by the valour of the halberdiers, fighting at immense odds, the insurgent leaders fled, their example being followed by their men. Don Diego Leon was pursued, taken prisoner and shot, on the 15th of the month, outside the Toledo Gate, the life of this strong and gallant man — one of a host of such victims — being sacrificed to the ambitions of those who next day would not bear him in memory. Espartero, a rough and honest soldier, was no match for a wily and unscrupulous woman like Cristina, who by bribery and malice contrived within two years to undermine his power and to ensure his downfall. Ostensibly this was brought about by a political and military pronunciamento issued by Generals O'Donnell and Narvaez, who formed a Government under the presidency of Don Joaquim Maria Lopez. The in- dividual who at this juncture may be said to have had the unfortunate country at his mercy, and who i6o Ubc IRomance ot IRo^alt]^ subsequently gained a strong influence over its young Sovereign, was General Narvaez, who is described by Lord Malmesbury as " an ugly fat little man with a vile expression of countenance." At once a soldier and a politician, he was possessed of immense energy, boundless ambition, and a determination to enrich himself. In both roles he was despotic and cruel. As an illustration of his character, it may be mentioned that when on his death-bed his confessor asked him if he freely forgave all his enemies, he gravely replied that he did, as having shot them all he had none left. One of his first acts was to permit Cristina to return to Spain, on condition that she did not interfere in politics. Readily accepting a stipulation she never meant to keep, she entered Madrid attended by all the trappings of Royalty, and was enthusiastically received by the fickle mob, who were overcome by emotion at seeing her tenderly embrace the Princesses from whom it was inferred she had been cruelly torn. Her husband and his three children took no part in this victorious procession, though they were to benefit richly by her return. Once reinstated, she set herself by flattery and indulgence to gain a strong influence over her eldest daughter. And as the idea of another holding the Regency which she could no longer fill was wholly repugnant to her, the Government was induced to declare Isabel of age on November 8th, Zbc Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain i6i 1843, she being then thirteen years and one month old. The fact that Isabel had come to the throne made little difference to the country, which continued to suffer from revolutionary outbursts, Carlist uprisings, and rapid changes of Government. The reign as Prime Minister of Joaquim Lopez had been brief, and his place was taken by Don Salustiano de Olozaga, who was not a favourite with her Majesty. A glimpse at the astonishing position held by this girl- Queen towards her Prime Minister is given on the authority of Lord Malmesbury in his Memoirs of an Ex-Minister. Writing on December 1 2th, 1 843, he says : " The Government at Madrid has again been thrown into confusion, the young Queen having made a declara- tion that her Prime Minister, Olozaga, had forced her to sign a proclamation for the dissolution of the Cortes. She said that he first attempted to persuade her, but when she refused, saying that she would not do such an ungracious thing as dissolve an assembly that had just paid her the compliment of declaring her of age, he used menaces and very violent language to terrify her into compliance. She then got up and tried to escape by a private door that led into her apartment, but he anticipated her, locked the door, forced her back to her seat, and made her sign the paper by force, holding her hand the whole VOL. r. II 1 62 Zibe IRoinance of IRogalt^ time. After his departure she made this statement, which was communicated to the Cortes. Olozaga denies every word, says it is a falsehood of the Queen's, and that there is not the sHghtest founda- tion for any part of the story ; and adds with great appearance of probabihty, that had he been guilty of such conduct it is not likely he could have quietly walked out of the palace through an anteroom filled with attendants and guards, who would have come to the Queen's assistance had she called out, and would have arrested him at the least word or sign from her." The subject was warmly debated in the Parliament, when Olozaga declared the Sovereign had not spoken the truth ; but he was overwhelmed by those in her favour, was deprived of his Premiership, of his seat in the Cortes, and obliged to quit Spain. Before she reached her sixteenth year, Isabel's marriage became a subject of intense interest to her subjects, and of grave concern to European rulers. Personally she was tall for her age, well made, plump and vigorous ; her face round, inclined to stoutness, with an expression of good nature and indolence, the eyes dark and flashing, the lips full and red. For a Spaniard her voice was sweet, and when called on to take part in the ceremonies she hated, she could assume a dignity that impressed ; but her usual manner was hoydenish, impulsive, and full of fun, and she loved pleasure almost as much as Uhc Stor^ ot Isabel ll. of Spain 163 she hated restraint. Altogether this child was wholly unfitted for the incredibly difficult position in which fate had placed her. That she might wed a wise and prudent husband, who would help her to govern her distraught country, was the prayer and hope of Spain. That he should be one whose position as King Consort did not overturn the balance of power among the nations became the business of Europe. The selection of a suitable husband for the Queen was therefore fraught with difficulties. The Right Hon. Henry Lytton Bulwer, afterwards Lord Bailing, who was at this time English Ambassador to the Court of Madrid, and who played an important part in the negotiations for the Royal marriage, has in his Life of Viscount Palmerston told Its story at some length and In a manner that lends romance to diplomacy. Henry Lytton Bulwer, an elder brother of the distinguished novelist, had begun life as a cornet in the 2nd Life Guards, but before the age of thirty had left the army for diplomacy. Having served as attache at Berlin, Vienna, and The Hague, he became Charge d'Affaires at Brussels and at Paris, and subsequently Ambassador to Spain. His experience at various Courts, his high-bred bearing, as well as his Insight into character, fitted him for the delicate part he was to play. From the first Louis Philippe, then King of i64 tlbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ France, desired that one of his numerous sons should become King Consort of Spain ; a wish that was seconded by his niece, Queen Cristina, who was anxious for the support of France. But as his Majesty knew that an aUiance which would give his kingdom such strength would not be permitted by England, he declined to seek it, and declared he would be satisfied with any union Isabel might make with a member of the Bourbon family. To this the English Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Lord Aberdeen, replied that though he did not recognise the right of France to confine the choice of the Queen ot Spain to any particular family, the English Government would feel satisfied if her Majesty should select for her husband a Bourbon prince who was not heir to the French throne. Louis Philippe's next move was to suggest that his fifth and youngest son, the Due de Montpensier, should marry Isabel's sister, the Infanta Fernanda. Should Isabel die childless, the French prince would then become King Consort, a possibility distasteful to England. In explaining to the English Ambassador at Madrid the reasons for opposing this alliance. Lord Palmerston, who by this time had succeeded Lord Aberbeen, in a letter dated August 3rd, 1 846, said : *' The great object to be accomplished in the interest of England is to prevent a French prince from marrying either the Queen or the Infanta. If Montpensier marries Ubc Stor^ of 56al)Cl II. of Spain 165 the Inflmta, it will be as bad as if he married the Queen ; and will give France equal if not greater power over the policy of Spain. It was bad enough for England in the last century to find herself engaged in differences and wars with Spain, not upon Spanish, but upon French grounds ; but now that France occupies upwards of five hundred miles of the opposite coast of Africa, and is creating a large naval station at Algiers, the inconvenience would become still greater. Such a marriage would destroy all confidence, and put an end to all good under- standing on our part both with France and Spain, and we should be driven to seek a counterpoise in closer and more intimate alliances with other Powers, whose feelings and policy may not be as congenial with those of France and Spain as our own up to this moment are. In short the marriage of a French prince with either of the daughters of Cristina would be a plain and public declaration to Europe that both Spain and France are looking forward to a combined war against England ; and we should have to govern our conduct and measures accordingly." At this point Cristina, anxious to benefit her family, brought forward her brother, Comte Trapani, a Bourbon prince ; but the opposition of Austria, as well as the ineradicable hatred of the Spanish people of Neapolitans, made her scheme impossible. For a time it was hoped by all lovers of peace that Isabel i66 XLbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ might marry her cousin, the Comte de Montemolin, eldest son of Don Carlos, and now claimant to the Spanish throne ; but to act as King Consort instead of ruling as supreme Sovereign was an abandonment of his rights to which he would not deign to submit. The English Government was desirous that the Princesses should respectively marry Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, brother of the King of Portugal and cousin of Prince Albert ; and Don Enrique, the second son of Don Francisco de Paula, Due de Cadiz, youngest brother of the lat-e King Fernando. The marriage of Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg into the Royal Family of Spain was opposed by Louis Philippe ; and the English Government, willing to remain on amicable terms with his Majesty, did not insist on the fulfilment of its wishes, which after all were not urgent. When early in the autumn of 1845, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert visited the French King at the Chateau d'Eu, a friendly agreement was arrived at between the Royal personages that Prince Leopold should not marry either of the Spanish Princesses ; and that the Due de Montpensier might marry the Infanta Fernanda, but not until Isabel had given birth to children, and her sister was therefore no longer in succession to the throne. The suitor least desirable in Cristina's eyes for either of her daughters was Don Enrique. Headstrong, masterful, free- spoken, quick empered, and unreliable, he was at the TLbc Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain 167 same time frank, courageous, and manly. During Cristina's Regency he had taken an open and active part in a faction opposed to her ; so that a bitter feud existed between them. Though he was wilHng to forget this in consideration of becoming King Consort, and though Isabel liked him best of all the candidates for her hand, the Queen-mother feared that if he were placed on or near the throne he would favour her enemies, oppose her interests, and prevent her from accumulating the fortune she was bent on gaining for the three unprovided-for children of her second husband. Notwithstanding her opposition, Don Enrique had hopes of becoming the husband of Isabel, or of her sister the Infanta, especially as he was aware that his cause was being championed by England. In writing to the English Ambassador at Madrid on August i6th, 1846, Lord Palmerston says : " We think it would be far the best for Spain on the whole, and in the long run, that Isabel should have a Spanish husband ; and that husband, if he is to be a Spanish prince, can be none other than Don Enrique ; and I should say that it is for Isabel's interest to have him for a husband rather than for a sort of rival, or at least as head of the opposition. And if the marriage was effected I do not see why Cristina should fear anything as to her future condition, provided proper arrangements were made and a suitable understanding come to about her 1 68 ^be iRomance ot IRo^alt^ future prospects and past accounts. As to Coburg, you say that all you have said respecting him depends upon his personal qualities ; that if he is an ordinary man he will be swamped ; but if he is a man of energy and ability he will become a great prince." Lord Palmerston was not led to believe, from his knowledge of the Prince, that his talents were remarkable ; but he hoped he might turn out, " an ordinary man with not much less sense and judgment than the generality of mankind." The English Government therefore urgently recom- mended the Spanish Government to marry Isabel to Don Enrique, and her sister the Infanta to Prince Leopold. " And that is the arrangement we wish you to try for," says Lord Palmerston. But above all things, our Ambassador was instructed to prevent, if possible, the marriage of the Due de Montpensier with either of the Spanish Princesses. The Prime Minister was aware that England's stern objection to this union might seem uncourteous and displeasing ; but he also knew that the friendships of States and Governments must be founded on national interests, and not upon personal likings. France, he said, valued the friendship of England, and England the friend- ship of France, not merely from personal sentiment, but from the conviction of political utility. Finally, Henry Lytton Bulwer was instructed to impress on Cristina and on Isturitz, then Spanish Prime Minister, 3J' v^i^^' f THE INFANTA FERNANDA, DUCHESSE DE MONTPENSIER. [Faring page it I TL\)C Storg of Isabel IL of Spain 169 the fact previously mentioned, that the marriage of the Due de Montpensier with Isabel or the Infanta would be considered " as a measure of contingent hostility to England on the part both of Spain and of France, and that we should be obliged to shape our future course with regard to both those Powers accordingly." Though unwilling to disregard the suggestions and wishes of England concerning Don Enrique, Cristina was still more unwilling to accept him for a son-in-law. In her dilemma she turned her thoughts to his elder brother, Don Francisco de Assisi, in the hope that he might be an acceptable substitute. Born in May, 1822, he was now in his twenty-fifth year, and in all ways was a complete contrast to his brother. Small and slight in person, Don Francisco's features were regular and insignificant, his complexion fair, his voice a high falsetto, his manners amiable, inane, and demure, his character gentle, lackadaisical, and colour- less. Something of a linguist, he had a passion for music, could write sentimental verses, and babble entertainingly. Very careful in his dress, and in the arrangement of his sleek hair, he was fond of jewel- lery, fastidious, polite, and precise. Such political opinions as he was capable of entertaining favoured absolutism. When on various occasions he journeyed from his home at Cadiz, in the company and under the protection of his father and sisters, and appeared lyo Zbc IRomancc ot IRoi^alt^ at Court, his simpering ways — heels together, hands folded, head held on one side — were a butt for the ridicule of the bouncing, free-spoken Isabel, an object of laughter to the maids of honour. Her Majesty's imitation of his mincing walk brought her circle to the borders of hysteria. A nickname was given him. A pretty little man in the corner of a drawing- room, he could be but a ridiculous figure on a throne ; and Cristina's desire to make him — from whose weak- ness she need fear no opposition — King Consort, was not at first regarded as serious. But according to the scheme of Louis Philippe, there was no husband more fitting for Isabel than Don Francisco ; for be- lieving that he would be childless, his Majesty secretly urged that Isabel should marry Don Francisco at the same time that her sister married the Due de Mont- pensier, whose heir must therefore inherit the Crown. Accordingly, while the Ambassadors of England and Austria, of Belgium and Portugal, were making re- presentations from their respective Governments, Cristina had decided on a coup d'etat. Having by persuasion and threats wrenched from her eldest daughter a consent to marry the man she despised and ridiculed, the Queen-mother immediately pro- claimed the engagement of Isabel to Don Francisco, and of the Infanta to the Due de Montpensier. Every Court in Europe, with the exception of Zbc StoiT of Isabel II. of Spain 171 France, was amazed by this news, and England realised that she had been tricked. The date of the announcement (August 28th, 1846) had been selected because at that moment Queen Victoria, her Prime Minister, and most of his colleagues in the Cabinet were out of England, and no immediate protest could come from the English Government. On hearing the news Lord Palmerston wrote to Henry Lytton Bulwer on September i6th: "The feeling of the Queen, Lord John Russell, Clarendon, and all our colleagues who have thought of these matters is alike. We are all indignant at the bad faith and unscrupulous ambition and base intrigues of the French Government. It is hard to say whether they have behaved worse in forcing upon poor Isabel a husband whom she dislikes and despises, and who may be a husband only in name ; or towards us in promoting a marriage to which they well knew we had strong and well-founded political objections, and which Louis Philippe and Guizot (his Minister) had personally assured the Queen and Aberdeen should in no case take place till Isabel should have had children, and till the succession should thus have been secured." In continuing, Lord Palmerston said he had told the French Ambassador that if the Montpensier marriage took place, it would be the first time that the promise of a French Sovereign would have been 172 Zbc IRomance ot IRo^alt^ broken. " I fear my civility led me to a mis-state- ment of past history," adds this diplomat, " but it was right to pay an undeserved compliment as to the past, when I was making a personal reproach as to the present." The English Sovereign had paramount grounds for indignation, as according to a statement made to Henry Reeve by Sylvain Van de Weyer, the Minister and confidant of Leopold, King of the Belgians, uncle and counsellor of Queen Victoria, both monarchs had it in their power to bring about the marriage of Prince Leopold of Coburg to Isabel, but that they deliberately refused ; to do so from respect to their engagements with France. " The Queen of Spain," says Henry Reeve, '' had established by private means a correspondence with Queen Victoria. The letters passed through the hands of Mr. Huth, the merchant, and from him to Van de Weyer, who delivered them. Isabel complained in these letters of her desperate and forlorn condition ; said she was bullied and threatened by the French, and expressed her abhorrence of the marriage Bresson was urging upon her. She declared that if King Leopold and Queen Victoria would sanction the Coburg marriage, she would throw the French over, and marry Prince Leopold the next day. The King and our Queen held a solemn conference and delibera- tion on the subject. Palmerston was informed of the transaction ; but the Ministers seem to have had no XTbe Storv? of Isabel ll. of Spain 173 great voice in the matter, for the Queen considered the engagement she had entered into at Eu as a personal promise, and England had consistently de- clared that she had no candidate. To put forward Prince Leopold at the last hour would have been to forfeit this pledge, which, on the contrary, was most strictly and honourably maintained. It was the knowledge of this, and the consciousness that a less conscientious policy might have rescued the Queen of Spain from a dreadful fate, that rendered the Queen of England so indignant when it turned out that the French Government had been far less scrupulous, and had not only forced on the marriage of the Queen to a man she detested, but had also married the Infanta to Montpensier." On the news of the projected marriages being announced to her by Louis Philippe, Queen Victoria wrote him a reply which Lord Palmerston calls " a tickler." " Her letter was quite her own, in concert, I presume, with Prince Albert," says he, " and I did not see it till after it was written, but I concurred in every word. She claims the performance of his promise to her to delay Montpensier's marriage till after children are born to the Queen. In his letter to her he had dropped all mention of that. She takes no notice of what passed between the Ministers, and dwells only on what was said between the Sovereigns." 174 tibe IRomance of IRo^altp Louis Philippe's excuse for his breach of faith was that Lord Palmerston's recommendation of Prince Leopold as a husband for Isabel, had led him to fear there was imminent danger of the German Prince becoming King Consort, and had set his Majesty- free from all engagements and promises. As he was well aware that Palmerston had favoured Don Enrique and not Prince Leopold, this excuse was even more feeble than that set up by the French Ambassador, that his master had only acted en bon pere de families in securinsf for his son a Princess who inherited from her father fifteen million francs. As Louis Philippe was unwilling to postpone the Due de Montpensier's marriage, Lord Palmerston — who now spoke of the French monarch as " a detected pickpocket " — thought the only thing left was to prevent its taking place. The main obstacle must come from Spain, he says to the English Ambassador. " Of course we cannot dabble in insurrections, and can have nothing to do with the responsibility of encouraging measures of violence ; but any extent of moral and political resistance will be fair and desirable." If Lord Palmerston imagined that some rough- and-ready means to prevent the Montpensier marriage might be attempted by the people, he was not mistaken ; for their abhorrence of it was so great that only the prompt action of the soldiery prevented an insurrection. Fearing lest anything xrbe Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain 175 should happen to prevent the realisation of her scheme, Cristina had no sooner obtained a reluctant consent to it from the Cortes, and the necessary dispensation from Rome, than she fixed on October loth, 1846, the day on which Isabel would reach her sixteenth birthday, as the date for the double ceremony. Two days previously the Due de Montpensier and his brother, the Due d'Aumale, with their suites, entered Madrid. Don Francisco de Assisi, the future King Consort, and his father, Don Francisco de Paula, Due de Cadiz, thought it beneath their dignity to ride forward to meet these visitors outside the city walls ; and this office was therefore deputed to less exalted individuals. While the city was surging with indignation that was barely suppressed by companies of cavalry clattering through its narrow streets, and infantry lining the squares, a young Spaniard quietly and alertly stepped into the English Embassy, and with a confidential air asked for his Excellency Henry Lytton Bulwer, saying he had something of importance to tell him. No sooner were they alone than he began to give some details of a plot which he felt certain would interest his hearer. He and seven others had taken an apartment in a house which the French Princes would pass on their way to the palace. From the windows of this apartment the seven would fire at the foreign Princes as they rode forward. A crowd 176 Zbc IRomance of IRoyalt^ friendly to their purpose would assemble round the house and help the assassins to escape ; but in case of accident or pursuit it was their intention to take refuge in the British Embassy, and he wished to prepare its Ambassador for their possible visit. Sir Henry heard him in attentive silence, and then asked for his name and address, which were unhesitatingly given. He was then told that he would not be betrayed, but that the police would be warned regarding the house he mentioned, and that if the intention to murder was not abandoned he would be arrested and tried for his life. Paralysed by surprise at the unsympathetic attitude of a Minister whose Government it was well known had striven to prevent this French alliance, the young Spaniard bowed profoundly, and with supreme courtesy declared that since his Excellency disapproved of the attempt, it would not be made. A few hours after the departure of this polite criminal, the French Princes made their entry into Madrid surrounded by all the pomp of splendid equipages, military escorts, and stirring music. Slowly they passed through crowds of citizens safely hemmed back by soldiery, who stared at them curiously, sullenly, and who answered the foreigners' repeated bows with scornful smiles, chilling silence, and the shrugging of shoulders under cloaks that probably concealed daggers. Zbc Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain 177 In the brief time that elapsed from the announce- ment of the alliances to the date fixed for their celebration (October loth, 1846) Queen Cristina made all possible endeavour to mark the ceremony with splendour. It may have been fear of some hostile expression from the people that prevented her from having them solemnised in the church of the Atocha, where the members of the Royal House are usually married, and of fixing on the Throne-room, sometimes called Salon des Columnas, for the purpose. The Throne-room is a splendid and spacious apart- ment with enormous chandeliers of rock crystal hanging from a ceiling covered with huge and gorgeous allegorical figures representing the majesty of Spain. At one end stands a lofty canopied throne resplendent in crimson and gold, four bronze lions crouching at its feet, its sides flanked by statues of Prudence and Justice. Half-covering the walls, painted in fresco by Juan Bautista Tiepolo, are immense mirrors ; porphyry vases, marble busts of Roman emperors, inlaid tables, and golden candelabra add to the general magnificence. On this occasion an altar with crucifix and candles had been placed at one end, and in front of it the chairs for the bridal party. At the hour fixed for the ceremony to take place, nine o'clock in the evening, this vast apartment blazed with hundreds of candles in the chandeliers and candelabra which were reflected VOL. I. 12 178 XTbe IRoinance ot IRoi^altp and intensified by the mirrors, and that brought into conspicuousness the scarlet and gold of Court costumes and military uniforms, the sheen of satins, she brilliancy of jewelled Orders and superb coronets worn by those assembled — the grandees of Spain with their wives and eldest sons, the ladies and great officers of the palace, the ministers and presidents of the legislative bodies, the Diplomatic Corps, deputies and senators. While they waited anxiously, whispering occasionally, their eyes alert, the hearts of many heavy with forebodings, a slight motion was seen at the doors leading to the Royal apartments, where stood the halberdiers of the palace, fine fellows six feet high, dressed in long black gaiters half-way up the thigh, broad-skirted blue coats with the red flaps buttoned back, long waistcoats, and three-cornered hats. This movement was the signal for the appearance of a procession of acolytes in purple cassocks and lace surplices, bishops, priests, and finally the Arch- bishop of Cordova, Patriarch of the Indies, in glittering cope and jewelled mitre. A moment later came the French Princes wearing military uniforms, and after them Don Francisco de Assisi, Prince de Bourbon, with his father. Two days previously the future bridegroom had been made a Field-Marshal General of Spain, and Cristina had presented him with the splendid uniform of that high post, which it was hoped would lend him a manly and imposing appear- Ube Stoii^ of Isabel il. ot Spain 179 ance. Into this, with its padded chest and shoulders, and bullioned embroidery, his diminutive and feeble body had been packed, and round his neck had been hung the insignia of the Golden Fleece and the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour. Finally came the Queen-mother with her two daughters, who were richly dressed in white, veils falling from head to feet. Isabel's face, usually expressive of good nature, wore an air of subdued defiance ; the Infanta Fernanda, lean and brown, looked what she was, a timid child. When they had knelt before the altar, the Patriarch with his attendant bishops advanced to them, and the ceremony began. The Queen-mother gave her daughters in marriage, the Due de Cadiz his son, and the Due d'Aumale his brother. In a few moments the irrevocable words were spoken, and Isabel had sworn to love, honour, and obey the manikin beside her. Throughout the ceremony he had been far more nervous than she ; and no sooner was it over than the poor little man, with sobs in his throat, tenderly embraced and clung to his father and sisters, from whom he was about to be parted for the first time to enter on a state for which he had no heart, and into which he had been thrust by an untoward fate. That night the Royal palace and the residences of all the Government officials were illuminated, but the houses of private individuals unconnected with the i8o Zbc IRomance of IRoi^alt^ Court were in darkness. It was noticed with surprise that the balcony of the British Embassy displayed lights and flags, but it was explained by its Minister, who had refused to be present at the marriage ceremony, that this was solely due to its being the Queen's birthday. Next morning the bridal party, attended by the whole Court and surrounded by all possible splendour, drove to the church of Our Lady of Atocha to assist at the nuptial Mass. Shortly before midday this procession, consisting of thirty carriages, left the palace and passed through streets and squares lined with troops ; but though the whole population of the capital had apparently turned out to see the sight, not a single cheer greeted it. Then, for many days and nights, came a round of brilliant gaieties — masked balls, bull-fights, grand levees, Court receptions — external signs of rejoicing that could not cover from observing eyes the bitter misery of the young Queen. CHAPTER II The Result of the Young Queen's Marriage — The Handsomest Man in Spain— He is Politely Known as "the Influence" — Her Mother Quits Spain — Her Husband Leaves the Palace — A Notorious Court — Attempt to get rid of General Serrano — Lord Palmerston Regards Isabel with Interest — Poison Preferable to Scandal — The Favourite gives place to a Successor — Lord Malmesbury's Account of the Spanish Court — An Opera-Singer Arrested and Banished — The New Favourite^General Narvaez Attempts to Bring Order to the Court — The English Ambassador is Given his Passports — Birth of Queen Isabel's first Child— Birth of her Second Child — Returning Thanks at the Church of the Atocha — Attempted Assassination of the Queen — Wild Scene — The Lunatic's Execu- tion — Reasons of the Queen's Popularity — Her Devotion during Holy Week — Ceremony of Washing the Feet — Fall of General Narvaez — Birth of another Child — A Revolution Breaks out — Palaces Wrecked and Barricades Erected— Death to Cristina — The Queen Mother takes Refuge in the Royal Palace — The Reign of Terror in Madrid — Ministers Hide — Fear of the French Ambassador— Isabel Commends the Work of the Mob — Espartero is Sent for — His Envoy waits on her Majesty — Scene in the Royal Palace — Isabel Resolves to Abdicate — She Changes iier Mind — Espartero, Due de Vittoria, arrives in Madrid and Restores Order— The Populace Waits and Watches for Cristina — How she Left Madrid — Anger of the People. THE results of Isabel's unhappy marriage soon became apparent. Before it had taken place there had been whispers in the air of her admiration for Don Francisco Serrano y Dominguez, who had a z8i 1^2 Ubc l^oinance of IRoimlt^ reputation for being, among other things, the hand- somest man in Spain. Born in September, 1810, he was just thirty-six at the date of the young Queen's marriage. Not only was he a General in the army but he had held office in a former Government, when Isabel had named him " el bonito Ministro." Evidently considering that as a wife she was more free to show him favour than when she had been unrestricted by vows, he was now continually beside her. Fans scarce concealed the mischievous smiles of Court ladies ; piquant gossip spread through the palace as ripples might on a lake ; the shrugging of shoulders was the outward and visible sign of a general tolerance that almost amounted to approval. Because of the authority his position gave him, Don Francisco Serrano was politely called " the Influence " ; a despicable epithet was found for the little King Consort. The Queen-mother, indignant at her eldest daughter's conduct, warmly upbraided her ; but Isabel, knowing that her marriage had been brought about by Cristina for her own selfish ends, defied and resented her interference, when in a fury of indigna- tion the Queen-mother with her husband, now made Due de Rianzares, and their children, not only quitted Madrid but Spain, and settled in France. Almost at the same time Isabel's husband, too weak to interfere, too humiliated to endure, left the palace at Madrid and took up his residence at a Royal shooting-box, ^be Stor^ of Isabel II. ot Spain 183 El Pardo, situated about six miles from the capital. The Queen, gradually becoming reckless, threw restraint to the winds, and those surrounding her being ready to offer her the highest form of flattery, her Court became notorious throughout Europe. At this juncture the Ministry, shocked by the Royal scandals that formed the subject of cynical and general conversation, undertook to play the part of a duenna ; a correspondence between Isabel and her favourite was intercepted ; and he was peremptorily bidden to quit Madrid and to take command of the Basque provinces, which it was suddenly discovered imminently needed his presence. A voice which he preferred to obey to that of the Government bade him conceal himself and stay. A Ministry that had behaved with such utter disregard to her happiness could not be tolerated by the Sovereign ; so that suddenly, at three o'clock one morning, her Majesty, whose pleasure it was to turn night into day, formed a new Cabinet, composed chiefly of Serrano's friends. It is needless to say they permitted " the Influence " to remain. The Right Hon. Henry Lytton Bulwer tells us that the Foreign Minister of a nation that above all things admires itself for its morality, " looking at the young Queen's conduct as the natural result of the alliance she had been more or less compelled to contract, regarded her rather with interest and pity than blame or reproach, and was for taking advantage i84 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ of the attachment she had formed for the purpose of dissolving her own marriage and for setting aside the Montpensier succession. All this could only be accomplished by the influence of General Serrano. . . . To an interdict on the Duchess of Montpensier's succession neither the Queen, nor her Ministers, nor Serrano were opposed ; but the Government as com- posed could not hope to achieve nor to attempt so great an enterprise. If it would or could form an alliance with the Progressistas, it might. This alliance therefore became our policy. But it was not easy to bring about." In continuing, the English Ambassador says that those who thought everything could be done in foreign countries as it was done in England, were displeased at the intimacy which Lord Palmerston wished him to cultivate with the Spanish Sovereign and her powerful favourite. " But," he adds, " General Serrano was an honest man, and a good patriot, and the Queen had a good heart and noble instincts ; and much might have been done at that time if her attention had been awakened to public interests, and an Administration formed with the more liberal of the one party and the least violent of the other." The same authority tells us it was the general opinion that a dissolution of her marriage was the only chance for her of a happy life and of a creditable reign. "But the Spaniards are a decorous trbe Stor^ of Isabel IL of Spain 185 people," says he. " Some very respectable and re- spected men discussed very gravely the propriety of putting the King quietly out of the way by a cup of coffee ; but the scandal of a divorce shocked them." Like many men remarkable for their handsome presence, General Serrano lacked strength of character. Instead of placing himself foremost in the Govern- ment, he yielded to persuasions, said to be backed by bribery, to influence the Queen to send for the masterful General Narvaez, then in exile. Narvaez who, next to his own, had the interests of his country at heart, gladly returned from Paris ; and once more was the means of bringing back to Madrid the Queen- mother that she might help him to introduce morality and order into a Court to which they were unwelcome strangers. One of his first efforts in this direction was to request the Queen to banish the man who had restored him to power. Without threats or entreaties Isabel, who felt the attraction of novelty, was gracious enough to sanction the departure from her Court of a favourite of whom she had grown tired. This manifestation of human nature saved Narvaez much trouble ; while to Serrano the separa- tion was deprived of its bitterest poignancy from the fact that he was presented with an estate in Estre- madura, bought with the Queen's money, and at the same time named Captain-General of Granada, iS6 Ube IRoinance of IRoi^alt^ the most romantic and enchanting province in the peninsula. In touching with lightness and charm on these interesting events, Lord Canning, when on a tour through Spain in the autumn of 1 847, writes to Lord Malmesbury : " There are all sorts of under-currents which have been going on while this has been worked out. As matters stand now, Serrano is without any apparent successor. Narvaez is not on good terms with two or three of his necessary colleagues, nor with the Queen-mother. The Queen is displeased and frightened at her mother's return, and bored by Narvaez, and as she has not the smallest sense of responsibility, may at any moment if things are not made smooth to her, send him about his business and appoint some new man. And this, I am convinced, will be the state of things with every Government that may come into existence here until the * Minister ' and the ' Influence ' are united in the same individual (as was the case with Catherine and Elizabeth). And if Serrano had had any head or heart, he would have done this, and made himself Minister in name and appearance, even if he did not feel equal to the reality. " I said there was no apparent successor to Serrano as yet, but we shall not have long to wait. The day before yesterday a singer at the opera came home to his lodgings at six o'clock in the morning Ube Stots ot Isabel ll. of Spain 1B7 and found them occupied by the police, who had a carriage ready to take him off to Valencia, the reason being that his night had been passed at the palace. To say the truth, this appears to me rather hard, for nothing- is deducible from the hour at which he left the palace, inasmuch as the Queen turns night into day, sees her Ministers after the opera, sups at four or five, and does not go to bed till morning. However as this man is not her singing-master, I suppose Narvaez considers that he had no business there. At all events, it is certain that he is packed off." Though an itinerant and entertaining opera-singer might readily be banished, it was more difficult to get rid of a man of higher position ; and for a con- siderable time Colonel Gandara reigned as General Serrano's successor. At his wits ends to establish a semblance of propriety at a Court where it was utterly disregarded, Narvaez summoned the King from El Pardo, where he wrote petty verses, admired nature, and moped. Speaking to him with the courteous severity one might use towards a child, General Narvaez told his Majesty that henceforth he must appear to play his part by keeping beside his wife when she went abroad. Always pliant, the King readily agreed, and from that time when Isabel, now becoming massive, drove out, a diminutive person half hidden in the billows of her laces and flounces might with attention be discerned in a corner of the carriage. At the same i88 XTbe iRomance ot IRo^alt^ time Narvaez dismissed a number of her Majesty s household who were not remarkable for a violent love of virtue ; and fixed certain days and hours for the reception of the Diplomatic Corps by the Queen, who formerly had given them audiences at whatever time of the day or night suited her fancy or convenience, and generally when she was attired in a dressing-gown, with her feet thrust into slippers. Meantime an insurrection broke out in Madrid in March, 1848, which Narvaez put down with merciless severity. His daring and omnipotence were shown when two deputies, Senores Olozaga and Escosura, were arrested, and though not accused of any special offence, nor brought before any particular tribunal, were banished to the Philippines. All men of weight who had opposed him, were without any pretence of culpability, seized, imprisoned, or exiled, while every journal that did not eulogise his policy was suppressed. Though the English Ambassador did not encourage any movement against him, he withheld from him the support he desired. Then came in- structions from England to recommend the adoption of a Wal and constitutional course of action to the Spanish Government. To do this in a personal interview with a fiery-tempered man like Narvaez, was likely to lead to an affront which might entail complications ; while to write it might be regarded as an impertinence ; the British Minister therefore sent Ube Stori? of Isabel IL ot Spain 189 the instructions he had received from the Foreign Office to Narvaez. This communication was immediately returned with an indignant protest ; and Henry Lytton Bulwer became an object of bitter hatred to Narvaez, who was determined to get rid of him. The EngHsh Am- bassador from that time became the recipient of many threatening and anonymous letters ; and on one occasion was waited on by an upholsterer, who while unseen behind curtains he was putting up in the house of a Spanish Cabinet Minister, overheard Bulwer's assassination being planned. The man's deposition was taken down and despatched to England ; after which the Enghsh Ambassador called on the Minister of Foreign Affairs at Madrid, and calmly said to him, " You say you hear absurd stories about my plotting insurrec- tions. Now I have a story against your Cabinet's plotting murder, and this story is substantiated by respectable evidence. Of course I do not believe it, but I have sent it home." As he could not be frightened away, nor yet killed with safety, Narvaez sent him his passports with a request that he would leave Madrid within twenty-four hours. No sooner had he arrived in London than the Spanish Ambassador, Isturiz, left England, and for a time relations between the two countries were strained. Nearly four years had passed since her Majesty's marriage before she became a mother. Hopes had I90 Zhc IRomance of IRo^alt^ been expressed that her child should be a son, and the question of its paternity warmly discussed. Ignoring such detestable scandal, the little King admirably played the part of father when, in July, 1850, with the utmost gravity, the infant just born was presented by him to the grandees of Spain, the Diplomatic Corps, and the officers of State assembled in the Queen's anteroom. With equal gravity they congratulated his Majesty on the birth of an heir, who it was hoped would rule over Spain. These loyal wishes were not fulfilled, for three days later the babe died, when heads were shaken and glances full of under- standing interchanged ; for there were those who believed that France would never permit an offspring of Isabel to stand between the throne and the Due de Montpensier, whose father, Louis Philippe, had on February 24th, 1848, been flung from his throne, and had escaped from France with his life and a few francs. Such wicked rumours of foul play were silenced when the child to which Isabel gave birth in December, 1 85 1, survived and throve. That it was a girl, was a cause of disappointment and vexation to the populace, the guards at the Royal palace resenting with mutterings and curses a fact over which those most concerned had no control. The infant, who was worshipped by its mother, was baptised Isabel in the Chapel Royal, in the presence of the whole Court. A greater TTbe Stor^ of Isabel ll. of Spain 191 and more imposing ceremony was celebrated when, on the Feast of the Purification, or Candlemas Day, February 2nd, the Queen and her infant, attended by her courtiers and Ministers, went in state to return thanks for her recovery, and to present her child to Our Lady of Atocha at the church called by that name because its statue, supposed to be carved by St. Luke, was brought from Antiocha. At the end of this imposing service, Isabel, dressed in crimson velvet heavily embroidered with gold, an odour of incense clinging to her, the sounds of Te Deums in her ears, her round face beaming with happiness, was descending the grand staircase when she caught sight of a gaunt and threadbare friar with wild eyes and a haggard dark face struggling with the brilliant crowd around to approach her. A gesture from her gave the wretched- looking creature the permission he desired, when he fell on his knees before her and held out a petition. As she bent forward to receive it, those nearest saw a flash of steel. Then the Queen put her hand to her heart, staggered back, and fainted. After an instant's lull of benumbed surprise, the wildest confusion broke out. Swords were drawn, deafening yells of rage were raised, and it was with the greatest difficulty the culprit was saved from being torn alive. This violent uproar brought consciousness to the Queen, who on opening her eyes and realising what had happened, at once called out, " My child, my 192 XLbc IRomancc of IRo^alt^ Isabel, my Isabel." To reassure her Majesty and the howling seething crowd, that the little Princess was unhurt, one of the big halberdiers held her up in his arms high above the heads of all. Then amidst tears and groans, cries for vengeance and words of execration, a company of soldiers led from the scene the man who in an instant had roused this fury, and who now appeared the only tranquil person present. A brief examination showed that he was one of those maniacs who seek distinction by aiming at the lives of Royalty ; that he had no motive for his attempt ; and that he had no accomplices. Though Isabel pleaded hard for his hfe, the powers behind the Throne were determined that he should be made an example of; and it was with tears in her large dark eyes that she agreed to have him de- capitated and burnt. The day appointed for this to take place was held as a jubilee, the populace turning out in thousands to see the life of a fellow-creature taken in a brutal manner. On his way to the place of execution the lunatic seemed indifferent to the thousands of eyes fixed on him, to the storm of voices execrating him. As he walked through the streets, he spoke to the soldiers nearest to him on indifferent matters, and once he paused to point out to them that a church tower was out of the perpendicular and threatened danger to the public. When on the scaffold, he looked down calmly on the forest of heads Ubc StoiT of Isabel II. of Spain 193 swaying backwards and forwards in a storm of hate ; then, apparently without interest in the experiences to befall him within the next few seconds, he laid his neck on the block. The executioner refused to burn the body, saying it was no business of his ; but the crowd was not to be deprived of the pleasure and satisfaction it had looked forward to, and several of its members gladly volunteered to perform the ghastly work from which the headsman had shrunk. A few minutes later and the pyre was fired, a human body was burnt, and its ashes scattered to the winds, so that nothing remained of this maniac but his name, which was cursed. When a ftw days later her Majesty drove once more to the church of the Atocha to return thanks that her Hfe had been saved — the heavy bullion on her dress having prevented the knife from penetrating to her heart — the people thronged round her in a paroxysm of delight, shoving aside the guards that they might come close to her, shouting words of congratulation, rough "Te Deums of thanksgiving, as if she were the wisest, most virtuous, and beneficent of rulers. That a Sovereign whose life was an open scandal, whose Court was a scene of disorder, whose weakness and caprices allowed the Government to pass from the hands of one political adventurer to another, should have won, not merely the tolerance, but the popularity of her subjects, seems astonishing. VOL. I. 13 194 'C^be IRomance of IRo^alti? But in their eyes her sins had many excuses. Reared by a grasping, self-indulgent, deceitful mother, she had been married against her will to the semblance of a man whom she despised, and whose mental and physical weakness was no small extenuation for her infidelities. That these were carried on with a frankness that seemed to consider the conventionalities as unnecessary absurdities, helped to condone them to a people whose moral code is of wider limits than is openly recognised by nations in colder latitudes. Then her love of mercy, her free-handed generosity, her impulsive good- nature, appealed to their admiration, as did also her occasional acts of religious worship, publicly performed and with every sign of sincerity. When the Royal carriage with its emblazoned trappings and splendid horses, driving through the streets of Madrid, over- took a priest and his acolyte trudging their slow way to administer the last sacraments to the dying, Isabel, following the ancient custom of the Sovereigns of Spain, instantly got out that her place might be taken by the bringer of consolation, while she followed on foot, it might be through dirty and foul-smelling streets, up narrow stairways to miserable garrets, where kneeling on the bare boards, she attended the ceremonies, talked to the departing, and gave help that comforted the last hours and freed them from care. Holy Week, the last in Lent, was in Isabel's time. XLbc Stort? of Isabel II. of Spain 195 kept with austere solemnity. All shops, theatres, and opera-houses were closed ; the people dressed in black ; and the nobility setting aside their carriages, walked to the churches which were crowded all day long. Without any indication of Royalty in her apparel, with a thick mantilla half covering her face, the Queen was certain to be seen in the hushed gloom of one or other of the churches, kneeling for hours together and overcome by religious emotion, as she listened to or contemplated the story of the Passion. Then with many bitter sobs she bewailed her sins, groaned over their number, confessed, undertook penances, and promised amendment. For her spirit was willing, for a week at least. On the Thursday of this week a religious rite that had something of a Court ceremony took place in the Hall of Pillars in the Royal palace. This was the lavatoriOj or the washing by their Majesties of the feet of twelve poor men and twelve poor women, in commemoration of the divine act recorded in the gospels. These men and women were selected from the poorest and most worthy in the villages sur- rounding the capital. Seated on benches at either side of this vast apartment, they waited in awe and wonder the coming of the Court in all its magnificence. Then a door opened and the Royal hosts of mortals so humble entered ; the King in his uniform of a Field- Marshal-General, the Queen, as was her custom, in a 196 tCbe IRomance ot IRo^alti? gown of red-gold brocade, a diadem on her head, her arms and breast blazing with jewels. Behind them came the ladies and gentlemen of the Household, Cabinet Ministers, and Ambassadors with their wives, and many grandees, all in full Court dress — a brilliant throng, dazzling to eyes dim from age and unaccus- tomed to splendour. Very humbly did the King and Queen go down on their knees before these figures of age and infirmity and wash their feet, tired and sore from endless walking, misshapen from pain, shrivelled from age. And this being done, these lowly subjects were placed at a table and were served with a bountiful supper by their Sovereigns, to whom the dishes were handed by the lords in waiting. It was on such an occasion that a magnificent diamond fell from her Majesty's breast on to the plate of a poor man. While he, scarcely daring to touch this dazzling object, hesitated and looked in bewilderment at the Queen, she said to him, " Keep it, it has fallen to your lot." So he went from the palace enriched and rejoicing. Though General Narvaez gripped power with an iron grasp, it was eventually loosened by those who feared him and had suffered under him. Then, by one of those sudden turns in the affairs of State which characterised the reign of Isabel, he was flung from his high position and once more obliged to seek refuge abroad, in the spring of 1851. The sight of his XT be Stoi\^ of Isabel II. of Spain 197 square head, of his stern, comnianditig face, which had kept Isabel in order, being no longer seen at Court, her Majesty quickly relapsed into ways she had reluctantly left, surrounded herself with an entertain- ingly disreputable circle, exchanged her favourites with startling rapidity, raising them frequently to high rank, as when she made Don Jose de Arana, Due de Baena, and not only drew them from the army and from politics, but showed wide-minded liberality in patronis- ing art in the persons of Emilio Arrieto, the com- poser, and Tirso Obregon, the singer. At length the pride of the Spanish grandee awoke to the fact that Royalty, which was the head of their order and part of their estate, was being dragged through the mud. The people also became disgusted with intrigues such as they were accustomed to associate with establishments which were not named Courts. When in January, 1854, the Oueen gave birth to another child, the general feeling was that the less said about it the better. In writing of this event, " An Attache in Madrid," who lived in the capital during these troubled years, and who in his Sketches of the Court of Isabel 11.^ has left a record of his im- pressions to which these pages are much indebted, says that the press washed its hands of the whole affair by keeping the most contemptuous silence concerning the event. "The bulletins of the physicians, though inserted, are put in, not at the head of the newspapers, 193 ^be U^omance ot IRo^alt^ where all interesting and important news is recorded, but amongst the indifferent news, without remark or comment." The selfish indifference of her Majesty, who so long as her own pleasures were not interfered with, was tolerant of wholesale fraud by public men, and regardless of the welfare of her long-suffering subjects, resulted in a succession of Ministers whose chief object it was to enrich themselves at the expense of the country. Eventually this turned the thoughts of the people to her dethronement. And of all the corrupt Governments of her troubled reign, perhaps none was so intolerably bad as that formed under the unscrupulous and tyrannical Sartorius, Comte de San Luis, once a tradesman, now a Prime Minister. In public hatred he stood foremost save one — the Queen- mother, who in the shameful and general scramble for gain and power during the past few years, had exerted all her craft and mendacity to accumulate wealth for her husband and children. Sick of Isabel and her favourites, of her rapacious mother and her dishonest Ministers, the whole nation seethed in rebellion, whose outbreak was daily ex- pected and desired in the beginning of 1854. As a sample of the leaflets which at dead of night were thrust under every doorway in Madrid, the following is given : " Spaniards. We have endured long enough. The degradation of power has arrived at its height. tbe ^toit of Isabel ll ot 6patn 199 The laws are broken. The Constitution does not exist. The Ministry of the Queen is the Ministry of an imbecile, absurd, and ridiculous favourite ; of a man without reputation, without glory, without talent, without courage, without other titles to the supreme power but those which can be founded on licentious weakness. . . . Are we to suffer so much ignominy with impunity ? Are there no swords in the land of the Cid.^ Are there no pikes ? Are there no stones ? Up, up Spaniards. Death to the favourite. Long live the Constitution. Long live Liberty." The long-threatened revolution broke out on June 28th, 1854 when a military insurrection was followed by an uprising of the whole population of Madrid, who, out-leaping all restraint, were intent only on a long-deferred revenge. Men, women, and children, laughing in triumph, implacable, determined on de- struction, rushed through the streets screaming out, " Death to Cristina. Death to San Luis. Death to the robbers." Mighty in their numbers, defiant, un- afraid, they built high pyres before the Government offices and the houses of the Ministers. At a given signal, and to sounds of deafening howls of fury, these were set alight, while the Civil Guard and the com- paratively small number of soldiers who had not joined the rebels, or gone in pursuit of them, re- mained inactive spectators, not even taking effective action when the mob broke down the doors of the 200 Zhc IRomance of IRo^alt^ municipal offices and seized the arms found there, or when, forcing their way into the houses of the Ministers — who were in hiding — the people flung from their windows all that was portable ; priceless pictures, books, mirrors, and rich furniture, over the destruction of which the ready flames roared with a delight as exultant as that of the desperadoes who, hand in hand, danced around them, yelling, embracing, glorying in victory and vengeance. Among the residences of the Ministers looted and wrecked in this way, that of San Luis sufi^ered most, with the exception of the two palaces built respectively for his wife and his mistress by Salamanca, who by a single fraudulent deal in the public funds, was said to have cleared one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. The whole of the inestimable art collections of this refined rogue, who was called the Spanish Monte Cristo, were utterly destroyed. It was however in wrecking the residence of the Queen-mother that the infuriated populace found its greatest gratification. Warned in time, she and her three children had fled for refuge to the Royal palace, to protect which all the troops in the garrison had concentrated themselves. At sunset a seething mass of clamorous people gathered in front of her palace, ready to burn her detested Majesty alive, could they but lay hands on her. Their repeated rush to effect an entrance was for a time repulsed by the Civil Guard ; but eventually tTbe Stor^ of Isabel ll. of Spain 20 1 the women, beside themselves with fury and indifferent to danger, flung themselves on the bayonets presented to them, and followed by the men, forced their way into the coloured-glass vestibule of the Royal residence. A mighty crash recorded the first triumph ; then trampling each other down as they rushed up the great staircase yelling and swearing, they poured into the apartments, where blind with rage, indifferent to what they laid hands on, they not only flung out pictures, statues, and furniture as fuel for the fire, but gold and silver plate. Penetrating to the wardrobes, the women dressed themselves in Royal robes, and assuming mocking postures, exhibited their splendour from the balconies to the cheering throng below. Only when the palace was a complete wreck and had been set on fire, was the pleasure of the mob interfered with by the sudden appearance of a company of cavalry. Before it could be driven back a discharge of musketry was heard. Surprise held all silent for a second, and then arose a wild cry of rage and terror. Following up the impression they had made, the soldiers dispersed the crowd, and after a time, and when irreparable injury had been done, succeeded in putting out the fire. For days and nights confusion and terror reigned through the city. Sufficient soldiers remained to put down the tumult if determined resistance were made and bloodshed disregarded, but the military authorities 202 tibe iRomance of l^o^alt§ either feared the consequences of an encounter with the people, or thought it best to let their fury spend itself in this way. Full advantage was taken of this leniency. Barricades built of stones, mattresses, chairs, tables, carts, and carriages were erected in the principal streets and squares, decorated with flags and flowers, illuminated at night, and watched over at all hours by men armed with muskets and sabres. Serried groups of them stood at the corners of streets ready to resent any interference of the soldiers, on whom others flung tiles and bricks from the roofs of houses. The numbers of the rioters was rapidly increased by the adventurers and beggars, who scenting prey, hurriedly poured in from the surrounding country, ragged, hungry, wild-eyed, eager for spoil. Every square became a battlefield on which was lost the lives of those in the pay or favour of the Government, the secret police, and occasionally the soldiery when they ventured to interfere ; every street was torn up ; palaces were deserted or left in ruins ; churches were closed and barred ; bullets whizzed through the air. The heat, dust, and uproar in those sultry July days, the crowds of furious men and still more furious women — their faces blackened with smoke and distorted by passion, their half-naked bodies sweltering — the smell of blood, the sight of bodies torn by shot or stark in death, made the city seem like a hell. tbe Stoti^ of Isabel IL of Spain 403 When the insurrection broke out, Isabel with her entourage was enjoying herself at La Granja, one of her country palaces. On hearing news of it, she decided to return immediately. She who from infancy had been as accustomed to revolutions as an ordinary child is to thunderstorms had no doubt that this was but a passing tempest which a sight of her presence, or a few promises more or less, would be sufficient to end in sunshine that would smile on her as usual. No word she had heard prepared her for the sights she saw. As her carriage, covered with dust and drawn by four horses in a lather of sweat, entered the gates, she could hear savage shouts above the strains of a band playing the Hymn of Liberty. And presently, as she passed through groups and crowds of her subjects, she was met for the first time in her life by sullen and threatening glances, while a sharp hiss fell on her ear as a stroke might on her cheek. She had gone but a short way when her progress was stopped by one of *' the bulwarks of patriotism," as the barricades were named, and her coachman was obliged to turn the horses heads in a fresh direction. This led her down the Calle de Cedaceros, and past the residence of Salamanca, now a ruin with smashed windows and door torn from its hinges, the burnt remains of his furniture, the shrivelled strips of 264 tlbe IRomance of IRo^altg his masterpieces, the spHnters of his Venetian mirrors, lying in the ashes of the bonfire in front. Another turn and the horses were pulled up to allow the funeral of a victim of the riot to pass, when among the wail of chanting monks were heard mutterings and maledictions. As she neared her palace, bristling with the bayonets of soldiers, she saw the blackened shell of her mother's residence, and at the same time heard the cry of " Death to Cristina. Death to the robber," The Sovereign's presence among her subjects entirely failed to have the effect she expected. The capital was in revolt beyond appeasing, and her Ministers, fearing to be torn asunder, were in hiding. Such a concession as a proclamation dis- solving the hated Ministry might have gone far towards restoring public order ; but this was not done at once by her Majesty, and meantime an armed mob ruled the city, which was illuminated night after night, the balconies of the wrecked houses being lit with coloured lamps in mockery of their masters, while the barricades, of which there were two hundred and sixty-four, were the scenes of wine drinking, guitar playing, dancing and revelry. As an attempt on the Royal palace where Cristina was taking refuge, was feared, it was guarded by two companies of the National Militia and two companies of the regular troops. Every gate in the city .was care- XTbe Story of Isabel II. of Spain 205 fully watched lest the Queen-mother or the Ministers might escape in disguise ; so that every muleteer on his way from Madrid was obliged to dismount and submit to examination ; every foot passenger forced to unwrap his cloak and lift his sombrero ; every woman to show that she bore no semblance to Royalty. More than once it was rumoured that a raid would be made on the Benavente Palace, the residence of the French Ambassador, where it was said about sixty persons were in hiding. Among those who had taken refuge there were the daughters and the youngest son by a second marriage of the Due de Cadiz, father of the King Consort. This boy, always of weak intellect, died of sheer fright during this Spanish reign of terror. But to the populace his life or death was of little importance compared to the fact that San Luis was believed to be concealed at the Embassy. It was also rumoured that the jewels of the Queen-mother had been taken there for safety by a faithful Swiss servant, who during the raid on the palace had managed to fill her apron with them unseen, and afterwards to pass unsuspected through the crowds with her treasure, which she deposited with the French Ambassador. Next to laying hands on San Luis, the mob desired to lay hands on these jewels. Frightened for the safety of those under his roof, as well as for his 2o6 XTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ own life, the French Ambassador declared that he would demand his passports if such an infringement of diplomatic rights as an attack on his house was made ; a threat that only plunged Isabel into fresh difficulties and fears. Eventually San Luis, having shaved his moustaches and whiskers, and dyed his fair hair, was jolted across the Pyrenees in the rotunda of a diligence in the disguise of a valet ; and Salamanca, made up as a Bordeaux wine merchant, escaped through the contrivance of a Frenchman. At length an attempt to restore order was made by a Junta under the presidency of General Evaristo de San Miguel, once Minister of War, and always a popular figure with the people. This provisional Government declared itself a " Junta for the safety, armament, and defence of Madrid, whose object it is to give a successful direction to the popular move- ment, to economise bloodshed, and to save the in- stitutions trampled on by the most barbarous and unheard of tyranny." Furthermore, it published a document calling on all the armed citizens to cease firing unless in case of provocation, and upon all officers to give the same orders to their troops. This was a movement in the right direction and was followed by another most calculated to end the revolution ; for tardily, and when it was seen no other course would serve. Queen Isabel announced that she had dismissed her Cabinet, and had entrusted Xlbe Stor^ ot Isabel II. of Spain 207 the formation of a new Government to Don Baldomero Espartero, Due de Vittoria. But even the appointment as President of the Council, of General Espartero, the one man above all others in whose honesty and honour her subjects had faith, did not induce the people to lay down their arms or to abandon the barricades, " the robust pedestals of our liberties " ; and it was decided by them that they should maintain their defensive position until the appointment of a National Guard. The Junta then strove to mollify and humour a force that still held the capital in its frantic grip, that nightly surrounded the Royal palace crying for the head of Cristina, and that was strong enough to imitate the horrors of the French Revolution. Accordingly, a decree was issued by this Government, to which her Majesty was obliged to give her assent, " immor- talising the great deeds that have saved liberty and public morality." At the same time it conceded a grade '* to all officers who alone or with troops have adhered spontaneously to the popular movement ; the deduction of two years service to the soldiers who have done the same " ; while all those in the civil and military branches of the administration who had aided the popular cause — in other words, the revolution — were to be recommended to the Government. This remarkable decree ended with the sentence which most of all emphasised its liberality, saying, " The 2o8 Hbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ persons of the late Ministry, forming the San Luis Cabinet, as well as that of the Count de Quinto, the ex-Governor of Madrid, shall be detained and put at the disposal of the Junta, to be submitted to the tribunal by whom they are to be judged." The Queen had sent a telegram to Espartero, summoning him from Logrono, in the province of Aragon, where he had been living in peaceful retire- ment ; but heavy days rolled past without bringing his needed presence to the capital. Meantime the dreaded prospect of a sudden attack on the Royal palace hung like a sword above that massive building, within whose rooms Cristina strode backwards and forwards in impotent rage, her dry eyes burning with hatred of her enemies, her bearing haughty and defiant. On July 24th, the feast of her patroness St, Cristina, the balconies of nearly every house in Madrid, and all the barricades, were hung with black, while the streets and squares that had blazed with light from sunset to dawn since the revolution began were on this date unrelieved, brooded over by darkness. Unable to assume the calmness shown by her mother, Isabel was overcome by dread for the safety of Cris- tina and of her only child ; the poor little Infanta whose birth had been received in chilling silence, having after an experience of three days, quitted a world that had treated her in a manner unbecoming Ubc Stou^ of Isabel II. of Spain 209 the chivalry of Spain. It was true that inside and out the palace bristled with soldiery ; but the Queen knew that their loyalty could not be trusted, and with a beating heart she listened night and day to the slightest noise, which she interpreted as the beginning of the long-expected raid. Shut up within its walls, worn out by nervous fears, and unable to take the air abroad in this stifling weather, her health gave way. To give her some relief the Junta issued an announcement on the 27th of the month saying, '* Her Majesty the Queen will go out this evening at six o'clock to visit her loyal people of Madrid. The Junta of safety, armament, and defence will accompany the Royal person during her promenade, which will be guarded by the National Guards and the army. This promenade of her Majesty, after the grave conflict through which the people of Madrid have passed, will be a manifesto of the alliance which fortunately reigns between the people and the con- stitutional throne." When the hour for her drive came, the Queen absolutely refused to go out, lest in her absence an entry might be forced by her loyal subjects into the palace, and her mother fall into the hands of the mob. While she was still suffering from suspense, it was announced one morning that an envoy from the Due de Vittoria had arrived from Logrono, and requested an audience of her Majesty. This messenger was VOL. I. 14 210 Ube IRomance ot IRopaltg General Allende Salazar, a sturdy, plain-spoken soldier and good patriot, who was deeply incensed at the deplorable condition to which his country had been brought. No sooner was his message conveyed to Isabel, than he was ushered into the presence of the Majesty of Spain, whom he found wrapped in a dressing-gown, her hair in disorder, her heavy face swollen from sleeplessness and tears. After a few words he handed her a paper from Espartero, stating that if he consented to form a Government and restore peace to the country, certain powers must be given to him in return, among them that of dismissing the entire Household of her Majesty. Astonished at such a demand, Isabel, always impulsive, indignantly refused it. At that, a remark concerning the reputa- tion of her entourage fell from the General's lips. A flippant reply acted as a spark on powder in igniting his indignation, and with that plainness that gives strength to expression, he took the liberty to state that her immoralities were the shame of the nation. Her answer was that common to those accused and guilty : " I do not know what you mean." He was good enough to furnish her with some details, when boiling over with wrath, she cried out, " I have never been spoken to in this way before." With severe politeness the General gave her credit for veracity. " I have no doubt of it, madame," said he, " for it s not often that truths are spoken in a palace." XTbe Stor\) ot Isabel IL of Spain 21 1 At that, Isabel, no longer able to control her rage, went into hysterics, threatened, and sobbed. In the midst of this storm there entered, from an adjoin- ing room, with short steps and a gentle air, a mild, prim little gentleman whom General Salazar recognised as the King Consort. Almost from his wedding day his Majesty had been a passive and interested spectator of the long and varied number of those who had possessed that fascination for his wife which had never been his. Too timid, too chivalrous to utter the crude, naked truths, which he had overheard, he was not grieved that they should have been spoken to her by another. It was not, therefore, with drawn sword that he advanced to avenge her Majesty, but to request politely that General Salazar would deprive himself of the honour of his Sovereign's presence until she had time to recover her emotion, and to give her answer to the Due de Vittoria's request. Scorning the idea of waiting until her anger had cooled, Isabel declared she had decided on her course of action. She would immediately abdicate and rid herself for ever of a kingdom that had brought her unending trouble. In hot haste she summoned the Diplomatic Corps to tell them of her unalterable resolution. She had not found time to change her dressing-gown, to dry her eyes, or to light a cigarette before the French Ambassador arrived. To him she poured out a story of wrongs and insults, for which 212 Zbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ she in no way considered herself to blame, and ended by saying she would leave Madrid in the morning. When it was possible for him to get a hearing, he explained that though she was at liberty to abdicate, she could not do so on behalf of the Infanta, whom she would be obliged to leave in the hands of those who would be appointed Regents. This consideration had never occurred to her until now, when it struck her as a blow. '* Leave my child ? " she cried out. " I would rather be dragged through the streets than leave her." On the arrival of the other Ambassadors at the Royal palace, they were told her Majesty was unable to see them ; and before evening a letter was sent to General Salazar for Espartero, agreeing to his terms, so that, as the Gazelle Extraordinary reported, the envoy returned to Logrono " fully satisfied with the interview he had with her Majesty." Submitting to the inevitable, Isabel now issued a manifesto in which she professed an absolute agreement with the progressive opinions of the Due de Vittoria, threw herself on the protection of her subjects, and eulogised them for " the sacrifices they had just made" to secure the liberty so dear to them. As they were well aware that these sentiments were wrung from her by necessity, they did not impose upon the people. After what seemed a long delay to the impatient, it was announced that Espartero would enter Madrid on July 28th, 1854. Joyful preparations were made for Zbc Stor^^ of Isabel II. of Spain 213 his reception. From dawn the city was astir hanging out its brightest draperies, its richest rugs on the balconies, hoisting flags, enchaining the streets with garlands, and forming processions, the whole populace seething with excitement. By ten o'clock the Junta in full state, accompanied by glittering lines of cavalry and military, passed out from the city to the Venta del Espiritu Santo to meet him. There the President delivered an address of welcome, to which Espartero replied, *' You have called me to strengthen the liberties of the country. Here you have me, and if the enemies of our most holy liberty try to take it from us, I will put myself at the head of all Spain, and I will show you the way to glory." Losing sight of his need of eloquence in the honesty of his patriotism, his words were enthusiastically received, and he was led forward to where glory waited him. And no sooner did his carriage pass through the gate than he was received with a deafening roar of welcome, in answer to which he stood up and bowed, his figure soldierly and lean, his close-cropped hair and fierce moustaches dyed, his brown wrinkled face Ht with smiles, his heart stirred to the core. Many gallant officers rode beside him, behind him the National Militia marched in time and out of it to the strains of the Hymn of Liberty, while around him was a surging mass of clamouring, hilarious humanity, shouting with all their might, " Viva la libertad. Viva Espartero." 214 XCbe IRomance ot IRo^alt^ In this manner his slow way was taken to the Royal palace, where at the head of the great staircase he was received by the Queen. Their interview was brief, and in a few moments he returned to the waiting throng. As his carriage drove away, her Majesty and the King Consort appeared on the balcony of the palace, but beyond a few cries of " Long live liberty. Long live morality. Long live honesty," little notice was taken of the Sovereign or her spouse. The hero of the hour was driven to the Calle de Espoz y Mina, which was glowing with the vivid hues of waving flags and flying colours. Entering the residence prepared for him, the Casa de Mathieu, he reappeared on the balcony to thank the people for their greeting, and beg that they would allow him to rest after his fatiguing journey. A new Cabinet was immediately formed under the presidency of Espartero, with General O'Donnell as Minister of War and Captain-General ; the people were persuaded to allow the barricades to be removed ; the Queen was obliged to dismiss her Household, from the Mistress of the Robes to the meanest scullion, neither long service nor personal attachment being sufficient pleas for the retention of their places ; and a promise was given in a public letter that " Dona Maria Cristina de Bourbon shall not leave the city, neither by day nor by night nor furtively." Two things were against her leaving it secretly : Cristina's firm resolution, expressed in the words, " I will leave Ube Stori^ of Isabel II. of Spain 275 Madrid as a Queen, or I will remain there," and the vigilance of the citizens in watching for her, still ready to tear her to pieces if she fell into their power. The following paragraph, taken from the Camor Publico, will show how determined they were that she should not escape them : " Yesterday it seems that Dona Maria Cristina was to have taken her departure for a foreign country, but suspended her journey in consequence of it being observed that the avenues of the palace leading to the Campo del Moro, were watched by a considerable number of armed peasants, who without doubt would be happy to take leave of the Mother of the Spaniards. Last night a group of from sixty to eighty men stopped and searched near the Hospicio all the coaches which had taken the road to France ; others traversed the neighbourhood of the Pradera de Guardias ; while other groups kept watch in different directions." It was not the mob alone, but the better classes as well, that wished to detain the Queen-mother. Espartero had scarcely entered into power when he received a petition from the members of the Union Club, headed by Orense, Marquis of Albayda, demanding that she should be brought to trial before the Cortes, and stating that those who connived at her escape would be the worst of traitors. The question of her disposal became one of extreme difficulty to the Government. So long as she remained 2i6 Zhc IRomance of 1Ro^alt\? in Madrid her name was made a pretext for riot and disorder ; so long as she remained in the palace, Isabel refused to leave it even to take air or exercise, and go among her subjects. Any attempt to smuggle Cristina out of the city, even if she agreed to it, would probably cost the new Ministers their places and revive the late revolution ; while to satisfy the populace by bringing the Sovereign's mother to public trial for fraud was utterly impossible. After much deliberation it was decided that she should leave Madrid by day, under a strong miHtary escort. Accordingly, on the morning of August 28th, long before the city was awake, a carriage drawn by four horses, together with two squadrons of Farnesio's regiment of cavalry commanded by General Carrigo, entered the courtyard of the palace by the eastern gate and drew up in front of the principal entrance. Those within who had been anxiously awaiting the roll of wheels, started at their sound. In the apart- ment where in her childhood a bullet had whizzed above her head, stood Isabel, pale from sleepless nights, trembling with anxiety, tearful, and wrapped in her eternal dressing-gown ; the little King looking frightened, inoffensive, and carefully brushed ; Cris- tina, dry-eyed, defiant and calm ; beside her the Due de Rianzares, making efforts to imitate his wife's serene composure. With them were Espartero and General O'Donnell, in full uniform, helmets in hand, U\K Stor\? ot Isabel IL ot Spain 217 uneasy, dreading scenes ; and beyond were some ladles of the Court. A word from Espartero that all was ready, and Cristina, still unmoved, went forward and kissed the King, and then embraced Isabel, who clung convulsively to her mother, sobbed hysterically, and finally fainted. Taking advantage of her unconscious- ness, the Queen-mother with a haughty step walked to the door, where, turning to the courtesying ladies, she told them she would shortly be back again ; a remark probably made for the benefit of Espartero and General O'Donnell. Then, with the former walking beside her and the latter towering behind her, she descended the grand staircase with imperious dignity, and was handed into the carriage by them. When her husband had taken his place beside her, she leaned forward, and with a smile that concealed no fear, she curtly said adieu to the Generals. Espartero closed the door, beside which General Carrigo took his place, firm and resolved to do his duty at all hazards ; a word was spoken, the postilions cracked their whips, the escort closed up in serried ranks, and with swift tramp and roll of wheel they quitted the echoing courtyard to traverse the city and take the road to Portugal, leaving by the same gate through which a couple of weeks previously two of Cristina's daughters had passed in the disguise of peasant-girls. 2i8 XTbe IRomance of IRo^alti? A couple of hours later, when the sun had well mounted that dome of wondrous blue above Madrid, and its slumberous inhabitants had begun to rouse themselves, a whisper spread swift as the wind from end to end of the capital, that the Queen-mother had escaped. Unwilling to believe it at first, the people ran from their houses, questioned each other in shrill voices, gesticulated, and threatened. On learning beyond doubt that she had really left, their excitement was intense. Seething, infuriated crowds gathered in the squares, frantic patriots rushed along the streets calling on all citizens to take up arms, in obedience to which numbers invaded the gunsmiths shops, and when firearms were refused took them by force. At the same time others began to raise fresh barricades, and one of the foreign Ministers, riding by, was obliged to alight from his carriage which was dragged away amid cheers to form part of one of the bulwarks of liberty. Before the roll of drums announced to the National Guard that the city was threatened by a revolution, the mob had broken into shops and stolen wine, meat, and bread, which was eaten and drunk between cries of "■ Down with the Government. Bring back Cristina. Bring back the robber." At noon the republican nobleman, Orense, Marquis of Albaydal, attended by the members of the Union Club and followed by an immense crowd, waited on the Due de Vittoria and demanded that he should xrbe Stors of Isabel ll. of Spain 219 bring back " Dona Maria Cristlna." In reply he was told to lay his complaints before the Council which was to sit that day. This he did, still attended by the populace. High words passed between the Marquis and O'Donnell, who made a fervent speech, and then, with Espartero beside him, showed himself to the waiting crowd, when they were received with cries to bring back Cristina, bring back the robber. The Ministry then issued an address to the people saying, " The Government, the lover of liberty, loyal above all, has faithfully fulfilled its promise to the citizens of Madrid, that Dona Maria Cristina ' should not go away furtively neither by day nor by night.' " To this the Union Club replied that " The Govern- ment did not say that Dona Maria Cristina ' should not go away secretly neither by day nor by night,' but that Dona Maria Cristina ' should not go away neither by day nor by night nor secretly.' " Event- ually some measure of peace was restored by the promise of the Government to examine into the charges of fraud brought against the Queen-mother. This investigation dragged its slow way over six months, during which popular indignation against Cristina had time to cool, and to receive with equa- nimity the expected verdict that declared no evidence of her guilt was forthcoming. Although the Queen-mother felt convinced that she should return triumphant once more to Madrid, its 220 Zbc IRoinance ot IRo^alt^ citizens took the liberty to differ from her. As they were content to live without the privilege of her presence among them, she took up her residence first in Portugal, and afterwards in France, where at her residence at St. Adresse, near Havre, she died on August 2 1 St, 1878, in her seventy-third year. Fernando Munoz, who from the lowly rank of a private soldier had been made a Spanish grandee and husband of a Queen, died on September 12th, 1873. CHAPTER III The Queen Conspires against her Prime Minister — Metternich's Description of her Majesty— The Dovv'nfall of Isabel — Her New Favourite, Carlos Marfori — The Romance of a Strolling Player — The Queen's Children— The Workings of a Revolution— The Due de Montpensier's Palace at Seville — His Intrigues for the Spanish Crown — Banished from the Country — Isabel leaves the Capital — Revolt of the Army and Navy — The Favourite's Dismissal is Demanded — Hesitation and Anger — The Royal Troops are Overcome— Flight from Spain — Interview with the Emperor and Empress of the French at the Biarritz Railway Station— Candidates for the Vacant Throne— The Career of Don Enrique— His Hatred and Abuse of Montpensier— Their Duel to the Death— Montpensier's Sorrow and Remorse — The King Consort and his Nephew — Queen Isabel Removes to Paris — Quarrel of the Royal Couple — Her Majesty Formally Abdicates in Favour of her Son — Amadeo, Duke of Aosta, is Elected King of Spain — Assassination of General Prim — The New Sovereign Enters Madrid — Attitude of the Spanish People Towards him — An Attempt upon his Life — He Determines to Abdicate — His Farewell Address to the Nation — His Departure from Madrid. THOSE who are credulous enough to expect justice or gratitude in a world where they are regarded as signs of weakness and antiquity considered that a man who had arrested a revolution, placed the Queen-mother beyond the vengeance of her enemies, and achieved the more difficult task of screening the methods by which that lady had enriched herself, 331 222 ^be IRomance of IRo^alt^ had earned the loyalty and support of his Sovereign. But such was Isabel's fickle temperament, her entire lack of responsibility, her hatred of a man who strove to cleanse her Court and dictate to herself, that no sooner was peace reassured than she entered into the intrigues formed by his colleague and apparent friend, General O'Donnell, to overthrow Espartero. These were successful, and in 1856, after holding office two years, Espartero was obliged to quit it. In the following year he resigned his dignity as senator, and weary of the world's ways, and with less faith in its truth and honour, he went back to his home at Logrono, to enjoy a peace incompatible with that of governing his unhappy country. He was succeeded as Prime Minister by O'Donnell, whom the Queen detested as fully as she had dreaded Espartero ; a fact that helps to explain O'Donnell's brief retention of his position. For scarce had he been three months at the head of affairs, when he was supplanted by Narvaez, who in turn was overthrown by O'Donnell two years later. No stability of Government, no peace for the country, no progress for the people, could be expected during the reign of a woman who was wisely described by Metternich as '* La revolution iyicarnee dans sa forme la plus danger euse."" The cause, from her birth to the last day of her reign, of civil war, revolutionary movements, bloodshed, cruelty, and incalculable misery to her XTbe Stor^ ot Isabel II. of Spain 223 people, it was no wonder that their loyalty turned to hate, their pity to scorn. Finally they flung her from the throne in 1868, after a reign of twenty-five years of wretchedness and degradation to the nation. The causes which led to her dethronement were not merely the favour she showed to reactionary measures, her sanction of arbitrary and oppressive laws, her irresponsible character, and her dislike and fear of all progressive movements, but to her open and unashamed attachment to a new favourite, the son of an Italian cook, named Carlos Marfori, who, once a strolling player, afterwards obtained through General Narvaez a small post in the civil service. A man of fine presence and aspiring intentions, he became a deputy counsellor in the administration of various financial associations, so that by degrees he gained political influence. In 1866 his patron Narvaez appointed him Governor of Madrid and Chief of the Royal Household. This latter position gave her Majesty, who had already looked on him with favour, the desired opportunity of having him constantly in her presence ; when swollen with insolent pride, he strutted about the Royal apartments with the dignified bearing of one accustomed to palaces of painted canvas, his manner marked by the sweeping command of monarchs crowned with pasteboard.^ Mimicked behind his broad back by those less fortunate and not more virtuous, and scofi^ed at by 2 24 Zbc IRotnance of IRo^alt^ the public who saw him occupy a seat in the Royal carriage opposite his King and Queen, he was loaded with riches and honours by the middle-aged woman who adored him, and who raised him to be Marquis de Loja. Her husband's philosophic tolerance towards the long line of her favourites was graciously extended to Marfori ; what opinion her Majesty's children formed of his relationship with their mother must be left to the imagination. Of the eight to which she gave birth, four lived. These were : Isabel, Princess of the Asturias, born in 1851, and married in 1868 to Prince Gaetan de Bourbon-Sicile, Comte de Girgenti, and brother of the King of Naples. Alfonso, born in 1857, destined to rule as Alfonso XII., and to marry in 1878 his cousin Mercedes, daughter of the Due de Montpensier. The Infanta Maria de la Plaz, born in 1862, and married in 1883 to Prince Louis Ferdinand of Bavaria ; and The Infanta Eulalie, born in 1864, and married in 1886 to her cousin Antoine Louis Philippe Marie, Prince d'Orleans-Bourbon, only surviving son of the Due de Montpensier. Isabel's inglorious reign was brought to an end in a dramatic manner befitting her volcanic career. In April, 1868, the province of Catalonia, long seething in discontent, set an example to Spain by rising in Ubc Stoi'i? of Isabel ll, of Spain 225 insurrection and placing itself in a state of siege. On the 23rd of that month, General Narvaez, then Prime Minister died, and his Ministry resigned. A new Cabinet was formed under Gonzales Brabo, of which Marfori was a prominent member. In July several Generals suspected of opposition to this reactionary and arbitrary Government were arrested, and without any form of trial banished to the Canary or the Balearic Isles. Among these was Francisco Serrano y Dominguez, who had the distinction of being the favourite of Isabel's early married life, and who had then been known as " the influence." Having returned to Spain in 1862 from Cuba, where he held the post of Captain-General, he concerned him- self with politics, and in 1866 became President of the Senate. Almost simultaneously with the decree banishing the Generals, another was issued ordering the Due de Montpensier and his family to leave Spain. After his marriage he and his wife had taken up their residence in the palace of the Tuileries, which they were obliged to quit when the French Revolution of 1848 drove his father, Louis Philippe, from the throne. Returning to Spain, much to the chagrin of the Spaniards, they were given the Royal palace of San Telmo, in Seville, as their home. This palace, formerly a nautical college founded by Fernando, son of Columbus, and afterwards rebuilt, has, because of VOL. I. 15 226 Ube IRomance ot IRo^altg its Churrigueresque facade, its immense pleasure- grounds planted with palms and orange-trees, its magnificent picture-gallery and museum, been described as an earthly paradise. Not only did Isabel give the Due de Montpensier this residence, but besides various honorary appoint- ments, she made him Captain-General of the Spanish Army in 1858; and in the following year conceded him the honours due to the Infantes of Spain. Occa- sionally visiting the Court at Madrid, he chiefly lived at Seville, where he enlivened the monotony of his domestic life by secretly and half-heartedly intriguing against Isabel, whose throne he desired to occupy. The knowledge or supposition of these underhand schemes led to his order of banishment. This he refused to obey, on the ground that as one to whom the dignity of Infante of Spain had been granted, he could receive orders only from the Spanish Sovereign. In quick time a decree of banishment signed by Isabel was handed to him, and at the same moment he was told that a Spanish ship of war, the Villa de Madrid^ was waiting to convey him to Portugal. With a show of honour due to the rank he claimed, he was con- ducted on board by the Captain-General of Andalucia. Before the latter had time to leave the ship, its captain found an opportunity to whisper in Montpensier's ear, *' Say but the word and the Captain-General shall remain a prisoner on board, and we will sail to the XTbe Stor^ of Isabel IL ot Spain 227 Canary Isles and bring back the banished Generals." But the Due, who was not a man of enterprise, and who had no desire to play a public part in bringing about the revolution he desired, refused to say the word, and preferred to let events take their promising course. Undismayed by the dark clouds gathering around her, Isabel, taking with her the King and Marfori, left Madrid that she might enjoy the invigorating sea breezes of San Sebastian. Almost on the same date as her departure. General Prim quitted England, where he had been in exile, and reached Cadiz on the 17th of the month. On the following day the Spanish fleet at that port, under the command of Admiral Topete, together with the garrison of the city, declared for the revolution. A day later the ship which had been sent to bring back the banished Generals, arrived in the harbour amidst the most enthusiastic signs of rejoicing. At this point the Government resigned, and General Concha was appointed Prime Minister by the Queen. Civil war broke out and severe fights took place at Burgos and Cordova, but in an incredibly short time town after town and province after province joined the revolution. The last attempt to combat it was made at the bridge of Alcolea, about fifteen miles from Cordova, when an engagement took place between the insurgent troops under General Serrano, and the Royal troops led by 2 28 TTbe IRomance of IRoi^alt^ the Marquis de Novaliches. Here the Royalist army was defeated, and their leader received a wound from which he died soon after. Before the revolt had become general, the Prime Minister had telegraphed to the Queen, urging her to return without delay to the capital, but warning her to leave Marfori behind ; for with this man beside her, outrages might be committed for which Concha would not hold himself responsible. Indignant at this cruel stipulation, with which she was unwilling to comply, she turned for counsel to Napoleon, then her neighbour at Biarritz, who assured her, that only by the dismissal of the favourite could she hope to retain her throne. Isabel, who never lacked courage, and who to the last cherished the delusion that she was still beloved by her long-suffering subjects, was ready to throw herself on their protection, but she was unwilling to submit to the condition which she knew they would demand — her separation from Marfori. And much as she valued her position as a Sovereign, and the homage, wealth, and influence it entailed, at that moment it seemed to her infatuated mind that the crown of Spain, nay, life itself, would be worthless without the man she worshipped — for the time being. Torn in the conflict between common sense and passion, sleepless, distracted by the disastrous news that hourly reached her, and overwhelmed by indigna- Ube StovQ ot Isabel II. of Spain 229 tion, she wept, threatened, and raged. In one of her telegrams to the Prime Minister she had said : " I remain at San Sebastian and shall continue to remain until these brigands are conquered. Should they succeed, I shall withdraw to France delighted at having rid myself of a nation of thieves and assassins." Not- withstanding this message, despatched in a moment of fury, she was yet hesitating between Marfori and the crown when news reached her of the defeat of the last handful of troops that had remained faithful to her, led by the man she once had loved. She knew then that the hour for her return to Madrid had passed, and that nothing remained for her but flight from the country she had misgoverned. Early on the morning of September 30th, 1868, she was ready to take her departure in the special train ordered for her. The spectacle she presented was too pitiable for comedy. With her round heavy face swollen from sleeplessness and tears, surmounted by a Httle straw hat with a nodding red feather, with her dress in disorder, her hands without gloves, her skirts distended by a swinging crinoline, she reached the station ; beside her the King Consort, neat in his dress, circumspect in his manner, melancholy resignation expressed in his serene small features ; while behind them, robust, commanding, with the sublime strut of a hero basking in the limelight, walked Marfori. The rear was brought up by H° Ube IRomance ot IRo^alt^ attendants and a few halberdiers in their picturesque uniform. Their Majesties and the favourite entered one carriage, the suite occupied several others. No time was to be lost, and no sooner had they taken their places than the train fled with a shriek from the station. With the uncertainty of the future stretching grey before her, Isabel bewailed her position, raged against her enemies, and fondly gazed at the country which she was leaving, perhaps for ever. By eleven o'clock, the time she reached the little frontier town of Hendaye, the Queen had sufficiently recovered herself to enjoy a hearty breakfast. Here she was met by three officers of the Imperial Household, graciously sent by Napoleon to receive her on French territory, and here all the Spanish officials who had accompanied her, together with the halberdiers, took leave of their Sovereign, a farewell that again plunged her into tears. On arriving a little later at Biarritz, she was met at the station by the Emperor and Empress of the French, the Prince Imperial, and the members of the Imperial Household ; the French Sovereigns being anxious to show their sympathy with the dethroned monarch, little imagining that their fate would some day be as hers. Eugenie, who had once been a member of the Spanish Court, felt profoundly grateful to Isabel, who had been one of the first Sovereigns to acknowledge her as an Empress ; while Napoleon showed his sympathy for the Spanish Queen tTbe Stori5 ot Isabel II. ot ^pain 231 by placing at her disposal the castle of Pau, for which she was now en route. On October 3rd Marshal Serrano entered Madrid at the head of the revolutionary troops to meet with an overwhelmingly enthusiastic reception. Amidst the delirious joy shown by the people not one dis- senting voice was heard to deplore the downfall of the worst Government in Europe. A Provisional Ministry was formed without loss of time, which stated in the circular it issued that it " took in hands the reins of the State in order to lead the nation to liberty, and not allow it to perish in anarchy." Though the Spanish people were determined never to permit the Queen who had wrought such havoc to the nation, or any of her children, to reign over them, it seemed to the greater number that it were best they should be ruled by a Sovereign who would preserve the constitutional rights. Therefore the Provisional Ministry, with Marshal Serrano at its head, issued a manifesto which said : — *' The monarchical form is imposed upon us by the exigencies of the revolution and the necessity of consolidating the liberties we have acquired. Mon- archy by Divine right is for ever dead. Our future monarchy, in deriving its origin from popular rights, will be a consecration of universal suffrage. It will symbolise the national sovereignty and consolidate public liberty, the right of the people being superior 232 trbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ to all institutions, and powers. This monarchy, sur- rounded by democratic institutions, cannot fail to be popular." Various candidates for the vacant throne were proposed by the Government or suggested by their partisans. Among them were Don Carlos, grandson of the original claimant, who raising the flag of revolt, once more deluged the country with blood before he could be overcome ; Don Baldomero Espartero, Due de Vittoria, who promptly and wisely declined the honour which it was proposed to thrust upon him ; Prince Thomas of Savoy, Duke of Genoa, then a schoolboy at Harrow, who was withdrawn from the candidature by his guardian and uncle, Victor Emanuel, King of Italy ; Prince Frederick, of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, who was also withdrawn from the list by his father, Prince Antony ; Prince Louis Auguste Marie de Saxe-Coburg- Gotha ; the Duchesse de Montpensier ; the King of Portugal ; and Prince Amadeo, Duke of Aosta, second son of Victor Emanuel. Beside these were two aspirants for the sovereignty who desired it more eagerly than all others. These were the Due de Montpensier and Don Enrique, brother of the King Consort. No sooner had the revolution overthrown Isabel, than the Due de Mont- pensier secretly returned to his palace of San Telmo at Seville, where he began to intrigue more actively than before for the crown. Though keenly ambitious, he DON ENRIQUE. [Facing page 232. Ubc £jtor\? of Isabel IL of Spain 233 was irresolute, cautious, and weak, a temperament that fitted him for failure. Careful at first to have it thought that he had no part in bringing about the downfiiU of the monarchy, he no sooner saw that an opposite opifiion might better suit his purpose than he desired it to be known that he had been prominent in achieving it. Like his father, he was very careful of his money, and soon became troublesome in demanding from the Republican leaders either the return of his gold which had aided their projects, or its equivalent in their support of his candidature for the throne. Those unfriendly to him remarked that he had not resigned his highly remunerated post as Captain-General of Spain, though he had conspired against the woman to whom he owed it. Desiring to draw nearer to the scene of action, to keep in closer touch with the chief moulders of the destinies of Spain, — Marshal Serrano, now Regent, and General Prim, President of the Council — the Due de Montpensier, leaving his wife and family at Seville, took up his residence in Madrid. Here he came face to face with Don Enrique in a rivalry that ended in tragedy. Don Enrique, it will be remembered, had been proposed as a husband for Isabel or for her sister, but had been objected to and set aside by the Queen- mother. When in the early months of Isabel's married fife, Cristina retired in indignation from the 234 ftbe H^omance of IRo^ait^ Court, Don Enrique added to her mortification and his own enjoyment by appearing there. Bright and breezy in his manner, free spoken, and rather turbulent, delighting to outrage the stiff etiquette expected of his rank and to indulge in pranks, he became the life of the Royal circle, and a good comrade of his sister-in-law, with whom he had much in common. From being a Vice-Admiral he was made Admiral of the Spanish Fleet, and created Due de Seville. It is possible that in time he might have filled the highest offices of State, had he not fallen desperately in love with a young and beautiful Spanish girl who was not of Royal blood, a union with whom would therefore be regarded by his family as a mesalliance. This decision was not to be overcome even by the fact that her names were Helena de Castelvi y Shelly Fernandez de Cordova. That he should bind himself by a legal tie to one beneath him in rank, seemed preposterous to Queen Isabel and her husband, who reasoned, argued, and suggested alternatives in vain ; for always headstrong and never conventional, he was determined to have his way. If this was not permitted to him in Spain, it could not be prevented in other countries. The result was that Dona Helena went to Rome, where he followed and made her his wife. From that time he fell into disfavour with the Court, where his wife could not be received as the tbc Story ot Isabel IL ot Spain 235 sister-in-law of her Sovereign. Unwilling that the woman he loved and honoured should suffer sHghts, he resigned his post as Admiral of the Fleet, quitted Spain, and took up his residence in Paris. Absence from his country did not prevent him from taking an interest in its politics. Adopting republican views, he carried on a violent opposition to the re- actionary Spanish Government, in return for which he was in 1867 deprived of his dignity of Infante of Spain. When, as a consequence of the revolution in the following year, all members of the Royal Family were expelled, he claimed exemption from this banish- ment because he had been shorn of his Royal birth- rights ; and before any decision could be arrived at regarding the question, he had established himself in Madrid. Here he immediately began to promulgate republican doctrines, and to combat the establishment of a monarchical form of Government. In the flaming pamphlets proclaiming his views with which he flooded the capital, he was valiant enough to promise his services in any capacity to a republic, that of President not excepted. There were cynical persons who smiled at this gracious oft'er, remembering how short the step between the Presidency and the Throne had been for Napoleon. Among all the candidates to the crown of Spain, he most hated, most bitterly reviled, the Due de Montpensier. In the seething pamphlets he published 236 tlbe IRomance of IRo^alti? almost daily, Don Enrique denounced Montpensier as a hypocrite, described him as a second Cain, and declared he had spent his money in dethroning Queen Isabel solely in the hope of being able to succeed her. He also reminded the public that their idol General Prim, whose favour Montpensier pretended to have gained, had openly declared that the nation's choice of a King would always be in the nation's hands, and that Don Antonio de Bourbon (the Due de Montpensier) had not a friend or partisan in the Cabinet. These repeated attacks failed for a time to stir their object to active resentment. A man physically rotund, he had the peaceful disposition that accompanies obesity. Eventually a limit was found beyond which the tolerance of his cautious and peace-loving nature could not stretch. That which roused him was a letter from Don Enrique published in the newspapers of Madrid. Among other things, the writer said : "It matters not if I provoke the anger and underhand vindictive designs of those who have degraded themselves by kissing, while they weigh it, Montpensierist money." At all risks he would disclose facts, one of which was that " this Prince, as crafty as his Jesuitical ancestors, whose infamous conduct is so clearly described in the history of France, would have had himself proclaimed King of Spain in the waters of Cadiz, if an illustrious comrade of mine in the navy had not Jlhc Stoves of Isabel II. of Spain 237 refused to stain his uniform by breaking discipline, and had not repelled with as much energy as dignity the greatest treason known to modern times." Don Enrique concluded by saying : " If the Due de Mont- pensier should carry out his menace to be King or Regent by secret conspiracy, I will join those who will combat him, and shed my last drop of blood against such treason." This letter was published on March 7th, 1870. On reading it the Due de Montpensier's anger, long in kindling, flamed in fury. But before challenging his enemy he wrote asking him either to retract or to disown the statements made in this letter. Don Enrique replied by sending him a copy of it signed by his own hand. This fresh and wanton insult made a duel seem inevitable ; and Montpensier asked General Cordoba, Director-General of Infantry, and General Alaminos to act as his seconds. Both urged him to overlook the words of one whose rashness and extravagance of speech were too well known to carry weight ; but the Due thought himself bound to defend his honour by sacrificing his life or taking that of his reviler. They then waited on Don Enrique, who received them with ostentatious delight and profuse welcomes. Their proposal that a friendly settlement might be made was declined and ridiculed by him, and no argument they could use to prevent the duel was accepted. Seeing that he was determined on 238 Zbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ fighting, they asked him, as the challenged, what weapons he preferred. He selected pistols as the surest means of killing. No sooner had they left him than Don Enrique went in search of seconds who would arrange pre- liminaries with those of Montpensier. These he found it more difficult to secure than he had expected ; for his recklessness being well known to his friends, many of them declined to act for him in this affair. Ultimately three Republicans consented to become his seconds, Senores Santamaria, Oritz, and Rubis, the latter a surgeon. The duel was fixed to take place on Saturday, March I2th, 1870, and during the five intervening days it became a topic of general discussion, an event looked forward to with interest. No effort was made by the authorities to prevent it taking place, though noise of it cannot but have reached their ears, considering that it spread to Seville. From there the Duchesse de Montpensier telegraphed to her husband beseeching him not to fight ; one of her entreaties taking the terse form : " Do not fight him ; despise him." Ambiguous answers were re- turned, that led her to believe her wishes would be obeyed. Early on the morning of this date, the beginning of a chill day, the combatants took their way — which one of them was never to retrace — to a field used for the double purpose ot exercising the artillery and Zbc Stors ot Isabel IL of Spain 239 of fighting duels, near the little village of Alcorion three miles outside Madrid. Wind swept, dreary, without a tree or house in sight, surrounded by rugged, interminable plains, without a blade of grass to relieve their dull aridness at this time of year, the cold whiteness of the snow-covered Guadarrama mountains in sight, this barren and trampled space is a spot specially suited for its purpose — a place where men meet death. Beside the combatants, their friends and their seconds, a fair number of military men, idlers from the clubs, and some politicians had been drawn to the field by curiosity to see two Bourbon Princes, cousins, fight to the death. Muffled from the raw air in heavy cloaks, smoking cigarettes, they stood apart from the central figures, watchful, while the final arrangements were being made. Don Enrique, brisk and restless, had plentiful words for those he knew ; the Due de Montpensier, near-sighted and reserved, seemed serious and depressed. Lots were drawn for choice of ground, and they fell to Don Enrique ; when a second time he won the lots giving him the advantage of firing first, it appeared to foreshadow the favour of fate. His spirits rose and he looked forward to victory, that is to the slaying of his kinsman. The method of fighting agreed upon was that the adversaries were to place themselves ten metres apart, and were to draw nearer one metre after exchanging 240 ZTbe IRomance ot IRo^alt^ shots, until one of them should fall. The signal to fire was three distinct claps of the hands by one of the seconds, with a pause between each clap, which meant make ready ; present ; fire. Don Enrique, who took his place with great coolness, fired his first shot into the air, not it would seem, in any pacific spirit, but to show that he played with his enemy, who was honourable enough to fire upwards in return. On drawing nearer, Don Enrique showed some excitement and fired rather wildly, but his aim was sufficiently good to send a ball whizzing past Montpensier's right ear. When the latter fired in return, his ball struck the butt end of his antagonist's pistol, and then splitting in two, one half the ball struck Enrique's collar, the other his left shoulder, but without piercing the cloth. Even at this stage when honour might have seemed satisfied, no effbrt was made to end the duel. Before firing the third shot, Enrique called one of his seconds, Fernando Rubis, aside, and gave him his watch and some private messages for his family, saying at the same time, " Montpensier is a better shot than I ex- pected, and if I don't kill him this time, I have a presentment that he will kill me." Placing himself in attitude once more, he fired, but failed to hit the man he hated. Montpensier, whose slow blood was now stirred to anger, with deliberate coolness then took aim and fired. At the same instant Don Enrique tXbe Stor\? of Isabel ll. of Spain 241 fell backwards with a heavy, dull thud. A wound between the right temple and the ear showed where the bullet had entered. Death was instantaneous. A glance at his fixed, glassy eyes, at the open mouth through which his last breath had just passed, sent a shudder of horror through Montpensier, who in an effort to preserve his presence of mind, thrust his handkerchief into his mouth and bit it, as he did also one of his fingers, until the blood came. Then trembling and bewildered he was led to his carriage, his condition being so serious that Don Fernando Rubis thought it necessary to accompany him. On reaching his house in the Calle Fuencarrel, Montpensier, who had shown great agony of mind, was unable to leave his carriage unaided ; and as he was found to be in a high fever, he was put to bed and the remedy at that time prescribed in Spain for his ailment copious bleeding was at once applied. No sooner had that limp figure been carried from the field, no sooner had it been deserted by those who regarded slaughter as sport, than the police, known in Madrid by the euphemism of " agents of public order," entered it, apparently intent on pre- venting the duel. They had, it was explained, un- fortunately lost much precious time in searching for the combatants in their respective houses, and after- wards in discovering and reaching the spot where they fought. Don Enrique's body was taken to his VOL. I. 16 242 tTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ house In Madrid, on the door of which was placed an inscription saying, " Here lived a Bourbon, the only- loyal one of his race, who for speaking the truth died on the field of honour. R.I. P." His wife was no longer living to mourn his loss ; but four children survived him. The eldest of these, Don Enrique, a lad of twenty serving in the Spanish army, was in the garrison of Madrid when the duel was fought. Overwhelmed by grief, he telegraphed the news to his uncle the King Consort, then in Paris, who immediately rephed : " You know how much I feel the misfortune with which you have been visited. If it can afford you any consolation, know that from this time you will find in me the paternal affection which you have lost, and which I desire to replace." To this young Don Enrique replied : " I am in desolation. I know not what to do. Advise." The answer was : " Perform your duty. Attend the funeral and then come at once to Paris. My arms are open to you." At the same time the King Consort called at the convent school where his nieces were being educated, and broke the news of their father's death to these orphans. In his grief and remorse, the Due de Montpensier offered to adopt and provide for these children, but not only were all favours refused from him, but he was given to understand that his victim's son would force him to fight another duel to the death. This intention, dominant in the Zhc Stor)? of Isabel II. ot Spain 243 first days of the lad's loss and bitterness, was never fulfilled. Three days after his death, Don Enrique was laid to rest, not in the Escorial vaults with his ancestors, but in the cemetery of San Isadore. The funeral expenses were defrayed by the brotherhood of the Masonic lodges in Madrid, he having been an ardent member of that body. As it was feared that the inter- ment would be made the occasion of an anti-Montpensier demonstration, all the police in the capital were present. It was attended by immense numbers of people, among whom the prominent politicians were not to be found. Two hundred of the poorest men and boys in the capital, each carrying a lighted torch, headed the pro- cession. A band playing the Marsellaise followed. Next came the hearse bearing a bronze coffin on which were the deceased's sash, his cross of Carlos III., and his Masonic badges. After this walked five hundred Freemasons, and behind them the one priest in Madrid who volunteered to say the De Profundi^ above the grave. About two thousand people brought up the rear. As not a tenth part of these could find room in the cemetery, no sooner was it full than some twenty police drew themselves across the entrance gate. One workman who had been pushed forcibly back struck a policeman in the face. Instantly every policeman drew out his revolver, but as instantly the whole 244 Xlbe IRomauce ot IRo^alt^ surging mass in front of them bristled with revolvers, and for a time it was feared that blood would wantonly be shed. This was averted by the presence of mind of one man, who stepped forward and begged them to remember the occasion that brought them together, and the sacredness of the spot on which they stood. In this way a riot was prevented, and Don Enrique was laid to rest in peace. On re- covering, Montpensier surrendered himself and was tried by court martial, when as punishment he was sentenced to a month's banishment from Madrid, and the payment of six thousand dollars to the family of his victim. Small as were his chances previously of gaining the crown, they were rendered infinitely less by this tragedy. Eventually, crestfallen and sorely disappointed, he returned to Seville, where he cultivated his property and was known as a severe and exacting landlord to his tenants. Though the power and glory he longed for were never gained by him, he lived to see a member of his family enjoy them in transcendent happiness for a brief space, before death beckoned her from the throne, as will be told. Meantime Isabel had on quitting Spain taken up her residence in the castle of Pau, from where she issued an angry protest to the subjects who had revolted from her rule. It was read by them with con- temptuous indifference. In commenting on it the Madrid Gazette briefly said : " Queen Isabel has xrbe Stor^ of Isabel ll. of Spain 245 addressed a manifesto to the Spaniards. The Pro- visional Government refrains from making any criticism upon it. The nation has passed its sovereign judgment on the acts of the Queen, and can now pass its verdict on her words." Notwithstanding the coldness shown her, she by no means lost hope of regaining her crown ; and for this purpose began various intrigues which were carried on with bribery and cajolery. As the castle of Pau was not sufficiently central or convenient for her purposes, she removed to Paris with Marfori and her husband. After a short residence at the Pavilion de Rohan, also placed at her service by the Emperor, she bought the magnificent house which a Russian named Basilewsky had built in the days of his splendour, and had sold to pay his gambling debts. Then known as the Hotel Basilewsky, it was eventually styled by Isabel the Palace de Castile ; while the street in which it stands, then called the Avenue Roi de Rome, has since been renamed the Avenue Kleber. In this new home, which she took possession of in 1869, Isabel continued her active and expensive propaganda for her return. It was while the duel was being arranged at Madrid, that a serious quarrel took place between herself and her husband. Though he had borne his marital wrongs with a sublime philosophy unworthy of imitation, his little soul 246 Zbc IRomance ot IRo^alt^ rebelled against a reckless extravagance that threatened his future. In this way, as not infrequently happens in domestic life, monetary losses brought about an unhappiness and severance which infidelities were powerless to effect. After all these years of gentle submission to her wishes, it must have seemed amazing to Isabel that her husband should assert himself sufficiently to claim a right to their joint fortune ; and on being given a verbal box on the ear, to have applied to the law for permission to administer such property. The high courage necessary for this action was inspired by the fact that since the revolution, the Queen had spent not only the income secured to her from twenty-five million francs, but also four million francs of that capital. *' If this state of things continues," he said to her in his thin petulant voice, *' we shall be beggars in six years time," to which Isabel contemptuously replied, '* By that time our son will be King, and the grandees of Spain do not haggle about money." This argument failed to pacify her husband, who was only to be satisfied by having half their fortune settled on himself. To this Isabel would not consent. Certain members of their family, who thought it undignified for Royalty to discuss their grievances in the public Courts, suggested that the case should be submitted to the arbitration of four wise men, two of whom should be selected XTbc Stor\? ot Isabel IL of Spain 247 by each party. To this they agreed. The result was that the King was to receive an annuity of two hundred thousand francs, as interest on a capital that was secured beyond the grasp of Isabel ; a provision for the children being set aside in the same manner. One clause in the formal agreement, which they signed in the last week of March, 1870, stated that henceforth they were to live separately, " no matter what might happen hereafter." The ink of his signature was hardly dry when the King Consort left the Hotel Basilewsky and hired an apfartement de garfon in the Rue des Ecuries d'Artois. Later he settled at the chateau of Omesson-Epinay, near the village of St. Denis. As time passed the hard truth was forced on Isabel, that the Spanish people would never again tolerate her on the throne. The hope which she lost in her own cause then centred in that of her only son, Alfonso, Prince of the Asturias, in whose favour she formally abdicated on June 25th, 1870. In the manifesto she issued to her former subjects on that occasion, she assumed a melancholy rather than an indignant tone. Her reign, she said, had been saddened because her most cherished feelings, her most fervent wishes for the prosperity of Spain, had been ever thwarted by others. " As a girl," she continued, " I had no thought but to second pro- posals which appeared calculated to secure your happi- ness, but the heated strife of partisans allowed no time 248 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ for the law and for the love of prudent reforms to take root. At an age when reason is fortified by experience, the ungovernable passions of men whom I would not oppose at the cost of your blood, more precious to me than my own, have driven me to a foreign country far from the throne of my ancestors, to this friendly, hospitable, and illustrious land, but which is not my own country nor that of my children." Full of faith in the future of Spain, solicitous for its greatness and integrity, and grateful for the support of those who were faithful to her, she was willing to for- get the insults offered to her. And for herself, she asked nothing. " But I would obey the impulse of my heart, and the loyal sentiments of the Spaniards, by confiding to their honour and noble feeling the destiny of a traditional dynasty and the heir of a hundred UlgS. Her words met with no responsive sympathy, and indeed with little heed ; for among the candidates for the still vacant throne her son had few advocates. The Cortes had decided that any candidate to be successful must command an absolute majority in the Assembly namely, one hundred and seventy nine votes, instead of the agreement of one-fourth of their members. But when the election of a monarch took place on November i6th, 1870, Alfonso was found to have but two votes ; the Duchesse de Montpensier one ; and Amadeo of Savoy one hundred and ninety seven, ZTbe Stor^ of Isabel ih of Spain 249 this being an excess of eighteen votes over the required number. Already he had agreed to accept this perilous position on the conditions that he would be duly elected by the Cortes, and that the foreign Powers would agree to and acknowledge his sovereignty. He was therefore proclaimed King of Spain under the title of Amadeus I. Among all the candidates no better man could have been selected to wear the crown. As a Prince he was prudent, enlightened, and conscientious, as a soldier he had seen service and shown bravery, as a husband and a father he was exemplary. But in the seething caldron of Spanish politics there were many who were bitterly opposed to his sovereignty, and who hated General Prim for his active part in placing him on the throne. The more desperate of these determined, that the statesman and soldier should never fulfil his intention of going to Cartagena to welcome the foreigner and conduct him to Madrid. It therefore happened that on the evening of Wednesday, December 28th, as he and his adjutant were driving in a close carriage from the War Office to the Cortes, and had entered the dimly lit Calle del Turco, cloaked figures emerged from the deep shadows of the high and sombre houses on either side and fired on their victim. The sharp report of half a dozen shots, the crash of glass, a woman's scream, and the sounds of retreating footsteps occupied but a second. When 250 Ubc IRomance of IRoi^alt^ frightened men and women rushed from their houses and from the adjoining streets, they found no traces of the assassins, and saw only a wrecked carriage, in which lanterns showed them two men bleeding profusely. At first it was thought that General Prim's wounds were not dangerous, but after the amputation of one of his fingers inflammation set in rapidly. When told that the end of his life had come, he received the news calmly, perhaps without regret at leaving a scene of treachery and turmoil, sent for his friends, bade them farewell, and made his peace with God ; his only anxiety being for the safety of the King and the future of his country. He died on the night of the 30th. When the Parliament met the following day, it passed a vote declaring that he had deserved well of his country, that his name should be inscribed upon the walls of the Cortes, and that his family should be placed under the protection of the nation. Those who had murdered him were never brought to justice. On the arrival of the new Sovereign at Cartagena, he was met by Admiral Topete, who had succeeded Prim as President of the Council. News of the assassination of the man chiefly responsible for placing him on the throne, must have seemed to Amadeus an ill omen for a peaceful reign. On January 2nd, 1871, he entered Madrid under cold skies and amid a chilling silence. Riding well in front of his escort, as if Tlbe Stors of Isabel II» of Spain 251 disdaining protection, erect with a fearless, confident air, he passed through crowds drawn by curiosity rather than loyalty or goodwill to see him. Thin and dark, with a high forehead, thick nose, immense ears, and a projecting mouth, his appearance was not calculated to win the favour of a people sensitive to beauty ; but his evident courage and his good nature won him admiration for these qualities as well as pity for the hopeless and ungrateful task before him, and once or twice voices were heard to call " Viva el Rey," the melancholy of succeeding silence serving to mock their feeble prayer. Turning his horse's head in the direction of the church of Our Lady of Atocha, he reverently and sadly entered its sombre aisles, for here but the previous day the remains of General Prim had been taken, and now waited interment. Having knelt beside the bier a few moments in prayer, he rode to the Cortes, where he was received by the Regent, Marshal Serrano, who surrendered all his powers to the King. His Majesty then took the oaths of fidelity to the Con- stitution. The new Sovereign's first speech was re- markable for the stress he laid on certain words. While declaring his resolution to consecrate himself to the difficult and glorious task he had loyally and voluntarily undertaken, he added he would do so only so long as he enjoyed the confidence of the people, on whom he would never impose himself against their 252 Ubc IRomance of lRo\?alt^ wishes. Then appealing to them, he said : " Placed by the will of the country in my position of honour, my family and I have come here to share your joys and your sorrows, to feel and to think as you feel and think, in short to unite with indissoluble links, our fate to the fate of the people who have entrusted to me the direction of their destinies." Marshal Serrano was made Prime Minister, but resigned that post six months later. In the following year (1872) he took the field as Commander-in-Chief against the Carlists, who had once more become agents in the distraction and misery of the country. With them he concluded the convention of Amorevieta, and returned to office once again as Prime Minister. Though by economy, by indefatigable attention to affairs of State, by characteristic prudence, the King sought to win his people and govern the country, his task was hopeless from the first. Every public act of his was viewed with hostile suspicion by politicians ; the grandees of Spain looked down on one whose Court they avoided and whose Royal title they pro- nounced sneeringly ; while the purity of his domestic life, so unusual in the palace of Madrid, was regarded as bourgeoisement. His reply — on being told that one wing of the Royal residence had always been reserved for the Queen and another for the King — that he preferred to live with his wife and family, passed as a joke among the people. Zbc Stoi'^ of Isabel II. of Spain 253 Before he was long with them he was named " el Rey intruso " by his subjects, who by every means in their power made him feel an intruder. His comfort or safety was the less assured because Isabel, furious at his being placed on the throne from which she had been ousted, was seeking his downfall by plots and bribes. Though continually warned that his life was in danger, he refused to surround himself by guards, but went about the city and among the people in a frank and fearless way that won their good regard, even while they considered it derogatory to the Royal dignity. Without his knowledge or consent precautions were taken for his safety, which on one occasionlat least saved him from assassination. This was a sultry evening in July, 1872, when he and the Queen Consort were returning from a concert at the Buen Retiro gardens. The Royal couple had remained there until close upon midnight. On the way home their carriage had scarcely entered the Calle Arenal when a rapid succes- sion of shots were fired at it. These were returned by the police secretly placed along the route, when a running fire was exchanged all down the alarmed street, whose darkness was lit by constant flashes from revolvers. Whipping his horses, the coachman urged them to their greatest speed, as the surest means of escape. Though balls whizzed above their heads, their Majesties were untouched, but one of their 254 Zbc IRomance of IRo^alt^ horses fell dead as he entered the courtyard of the palace. One of the assassnis was shot, another seriously injured, and three captured. This attempt upon his life resulted in the King's decision to resign a sovereignty that brought him small dignity, less authority, many open slights, and no peace. His Prime Minister, Don Jose Zorilla, remonstrated with him, picturing the confusion to which a monarchless country would be reduced, so that the King did not act upon his intention until early in the following year, when the Ministry was hopelessly divided. Republicanism rampant, and the army thoroughly disaffected — eight hundred artillery officers resigning simultaneously, ostensibly because an unpopular General, Hidalgo, had been appointed Commander of the Forces in Catalonia, but probably as the result of Isabel's wholesale bribery. In formally announcing his abdication on February I ith, 1873, the King said : " It is two long years since first I put on the crown of Spain, and Spain still lives in a state of perpetual strife ; the era of peace and happiness which I so ardently longed for, seeming each day more distant than ever. If the enemies of her well-being were foreigners, then at the head of her enduring and valiant soldiers I would be the first to combat them. But those who with their sword, their pen, or their speech aggravate and perpetuate the misfortunes of the nation are Spaniards ; all invoke Z\K Stoii^ of Isabel II. of Spain 255 the dulcet name of their country, all combat and agitate for its welfare ; and amid the din of the conflict, the confusing, deafening, and contradictory clamour of all parties, and the many opposing manifestations of public opinion, it is impossible for me to discriminate on which side is the truth, and even more impossible to find a remedy for such great calamities, I have sought it anxiously within the law, and have not found it. Outside, having promised to observe the law, I cannot seek it." More to this effect was said in a frank, manly, and moving address, which concluded by an assurance that in parting from the country he did not part with his love for Spain, a nation as noble as she was unfortunate, and that he carried away no other regret than that it should have been impossible for him to confer upon the country all the happiness which his loyal heart desired. Three days later he and his family left the Royal palace of Madrid for ever. His departure was taken with characteristic simplicity that dispensed with military escorts, guards of honour, or other signs of parade. Accompanied only by a few members of the Cortes, he passed through silent crowds that exhibited an interest barely sufficient to give him a farewell stare. With a shrug of the shoulders, a whiff of cigarette smoke, the rearrange- ment of a cloak, they saw him pass from their sight and their memory. As he clasped Zorilla's hands 256 Zhc IRomance ot IRo^alt^ in parting, tears sprang to his eyes ; and as the train steamed slowly from the station, he leaned from his carriage window, and not without regret, waved fare- well to all his greatness. No longer Amadeus, King of Spain, he was a far happier man as Amadeo, Duke of Aosta. CHAPTER IV Isabel's Desire to See her Son on the Throne Still Ungratified — The Republic of Spain — The Queen and her Old Friend General Serrano — The Youth of Alfonso XII. — Movement in his Favour — He is Proclaimed King — Joy and Excitement at the Hotel Basilewsky — At the New Opera House, Paris— Alfonso's Return to Spain — Hopes of his Subjects — Queen Isabel Among her Former Subjects — The Downfall of Carlos Marfori — The Project of the King's Marriage — Opposition of his Subjects and Anger of his Mother — Isabel Returns to Paris and Intrigues with Don Carlos — Dines with the Pretender and Two of his Generals — Indignation in Spain — Orders Received by the Spanish Embassy — Don Carlos is Obliged to Quit France — Impotent Excuses of Isabel — She is Prevented from Attending her Son's Marriage — The Magnificence of the Bridal Procession — Happiness of the Royal Couple — The Sudden Illness of Queen Mercedes — Her Parents are Summoned in Haste — Her Unwillingness to Die — Grief of the King — His Majesty's Second Marriage — The Archduchess Maria Christina of Austria — The King's Anxiety for the Welfare of his Country — His Active Sympathy with the Sufferers from Earthquake and Plague — Steals away from the Capital to the Afflicted People — The State of his Health — Unexpected News of his Death — Birth of the Present King of Spain — Isabel and her Husband — Death of the King Consort and of Carlos Marfori. THE abdication of Amadeus failed to bring Isabel the desire of her heart, for which she still laboured indefatigably, still continued to expend immense sums. For no sooner had he departed than the Cortes proclaimed a Republic. All signs and VOL. I. 257 I- 258 XTbe IRoinance ot IRo^alt^ symbols of Royalty were removed from the public offices, institutions, and streets, and in some cases were flung in derision in the dust. Though it was con- fidently and enthusiastically stated by its advocates that this form of Government would bring: the nation peace and prosperity, it took but a brief experience to prove that such blessings were farther removed than ever under its rule. Conservative in all ways, Spain soon found Republicanism an ill-fitting garment. A country without a monarchy seemed as wanting to the people, as did a capital without a Court to the nobility. And meantime nothing was left undone by Isabel in turning the thoughts of all classes of her former subjects towards her son's claims to the crown. In this she was helped by no less a personage than the friend of her early days, Francisco Serrano y Dominguez, Due de la Torre, who on the proclamation of the Republic had fled to Paris. If for them all tender remembrances of the past were swept away and lost in the current of later experiences, they were at least united in one purpose. A continually increasing party in Spain also looked to the occupation of the throne by the Prince of the Asturias, as a remedy for the grievous evils that plagued the country. On the downfall of Isabel in the autumn in 1868, her son, Alfonso Francisco d'Assisi Fernando Pio Maria de la Conception Gregorio, was in his eleventh year. His slight frame, with its narrow chest and shoulders, thin Xlbe Stor^ ot Isabel IL ot Spain 259 neck, and pale complexion, gave him an appearance of delicacy ; but his keen dark eyes, his alert movements, and tactful bearing showed a bright intelligence. For a while he had remained with his mother in Paris, where he went to school ; but in February, 1870, he was sent to Geneva, and afterwards to Munich to continue his studies. Later, in January, 1872, he entered the Theresianum College at Vienna, under the charge of Count Morphy. Here he occu- pied a suite of rooms in which Charles VI. had lived and Maria Teresa had died. Furthermore, as became one who might some day reign as King, his lessons were given separately from the other boys, though he mixed freely and without formality with them in fencing, drilling, and in the gymnasium exercises. His natural quickness was such, that though he did not speak a word of German on his arrival at Vienna, he talked it fluently and had mastered its colloquialisms before he left in July, 1874. He then returned to Paris, and in the following August he was sent to England, where he entered the Royal Military College at Sandhurst. His easy adaptability, good humour, frankness, and freedom from superciliousness won him the friendship of his fellow cadets ; while his eagerness to learn gained him favourable opinions from his masters. Meantime, events in Spain were taking a decided turn in his fivour. It was while he was at Sandhurst, 26o tTbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ that on his seventeenth birthday, November 28th, 1874, he received addresses from *' the Grandees and Persons of Title in Spain," from the Conservative Alfonsist Club, and from the Liberal Alfonsist Club in Madrid. In his reply to these he said among other things, that when Spain was ready by Parliamentary proceedings to place him on the throne left vacant by the spontaneous abdication of his august mother, it would be easy for a true-hearted Prince and a free people to agree upon questions of importance to the country. The brilliant hope raised by this movement in Isabel's heart was confirmed when on the last day of the following month news was flashed to Paris, that General Martinez Campo had proclaimed the Prince of the Asturias, King of Spain, under the title of Alfonso XII. The lad, then spending his holidays with his mother, must have shared her excitement and joy at this intelligence, which still left them in suspense as to how it would be received by the Spanish nation. When, however, at one o'clock a telegram was delivered at the Hotel Basilewsky, as Queen Isabel's residence was still called, stating that the armies of the north and centre, together with the garrison of Madrid, had declared in his favour, he was confident that his position as Sovereign was secure. All doubt was ended on the point when at half-past two o'clock, news of his proclamation Ube Stoi*\> of Isabel ll. ot Spain 261 and of its favourable reception was received by the Marquis de Vega di Armijo, Spanish Ambassador at Paris, who was requested to inform the French Government of the fact. The great news spread like wildfire, and the residence of the dethroned Queen and the newly proclaimed King, was besieged by callers. One of the first to arrive was Cristina, who, far removed from a people so wanting in politeness as to have described her as a robber, and so bloodthirsty as to demand her head, was leading a life of peace and retirement. Scarce had she, still regal and impressive, left her carriage, than that of the Duchesse de Montpensier came rolling up. The conveyances of other members of the family made a long line down the avenue. Then came soldiers, politicians, and grandees who had been banished by the Spanish Republic, all of them eager to offer their congratulations and services to the new Sovereign. The King Consort was absent, he having taken up his residence at the chateau of Omesson-Epinay, which he had bought soon after his separation from his wife. His presence, never impressive, was not missed amid the general commotion and effusive joy. Isabel, all tears and smiles, gloried in the thought that her plans had succeeded in placing her son on the throne of Spain, her beloved country to which she hoped to return. Carlos Marfori, Marquis de 262 Zbc IRomance of 1Royaltt> Loja, and still Chief of her Majesty's Household, inflated with importance, looked forward to holding a position worthy of his dignity in the new Ministry. As sister of the King, the Duchesse de Montpensier would be permitted to return to her beautiful home at Seville, from which she and her husband had been ousted. Amid exuberant felicitations, protesta- tions of loyalty, and predictions of a great future for the new monarch, the deep-toned bell at the gate continued to announce fresh visitors and the receipt of innumerable telegrams. One of these, read aloud by Alfonso to an audience from which with difficulty he had obtained silence, introduced a note reminiscent of old discords into the triumphal harmony of the moment. This said : " The army of the north in seeing King Alfonso, the representative of the legitimate monarchy, on the throne, hopes the Royal flag will not henceforth be the ensign of a party, but that under which all who love order and liberty may range themselves." On the evening of the following day, the Parisians had an opportunity of publicly seeing the boy King whose name was being flashed all over the world, when with his mother, he was present at the opening of the new Opera House. As he entered her box he was greeted by an outburst of congratulation, which his winning youth, his restoration to the throne of his ancestors, and to his country, drew from a sympathetic people. XTbc Storv of Isabel IL of Spain 263 Quite willing to show himself, he walked about the first floor lobbies between the acts, his mother, beaming with happiness, leaning on his arm. A brilliant throng of men and women surged around them, staring, courtesying, making room for their progress ; those known to them receiving gracious words in response to felicitations. One of these addressing Alfonso, said, " Your Majesty must be flattered at the eagerness of the people to see you," to which he answered with a smile, "Oh, it is merely curiosity. I have only just become a King in the eyes of the public, but in my own mind I have always been one." The means by which Isabel had chiefly gained her desires, an expenditure whose liberality was only equalled by the impecuniosity of army officials, left her coff^ers at so low an ebb that loans had to be requested to fit out the new Sovereign for a suitable entrance into his kingdom. This difficulty being over- come, Alfonso left Paris amid innumerable blessings and prayers for his prosperity, and on January 9th, 1875, landed at Barcelona, the city from which he took his title as Count, and where he was joyously welcomed. From there he proceeded to Valencia, the capital of its province, where the movement in his favour had been organised, and where the population were wild with enthusiasm. Not only did the whole city turn out to greet him, but upwards of thirty thousand people flocked in from the surrounding country to 264 ITbe IRomance ot IRoi^alts see him. In the midst of immense surging crowds shouting their uproarious welcome, amidst the thunder of artillery, the tramping of mounted troops, the deafening clamour of church bells, he sat on horseback, calm, dignified, like a monarch receiving his due from his subjects ; his strong dark features giving him an appearance of maturity his years did not warrant, his expression marked not only by that gravity charac- teristic of his nation, but with a sadness that seemed to foreshadow the tragic sorrow that was to darken his brief life. AVhen on the 14th of the month he entered Madrid, his welcome was scarcely less fervent and impressive. Weary of civil war, harassed by the interminable strifes of political factions and changes of Government, the people hopefully looked forward to the reign of this youth, unbiassed by parties, taught by recent ex- periences, and knowing something ot other countries, as a means of securing and maintaining peace. His first acts, full of tact and concihation, promised well. A free pardon and complete amnesty were offered to all who had taken part in the insurrections ; and all officers whom the revolutionary movement had induced to join Don Carlos, were invited to return and take their places among their former comrades. In the manifesto addressed to his subjects, Alfonso said that in returning to his native country he wished for peace. He had ascended the throne, as he had earnestly TLbc Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain 265 desired, without bloodshed, but if his rights were disputed by force, he would fight for them. He asked all who fought for Don Carlos to lay down their arms. He, Alfonso, was the representative of the dynasty to which fidelity had been sworn by their fathers. He was and would remain a constitutional King. A heavy task lay before him, but he began it with a brave heart ; for within a few days of his entrance into Madrid, he took command of his army in the northern provinces, the stronghold of Carlism, to wage war against the Pretender, who was not finally overcome and routed until thirteen months later. When civil war ended, the exhausted financial condition of the country had to be faced, and political parties conciliated if not reconciled. The young King's position was not made more easy by the return of his mother to Spain. On July 30th, 1876, she arrived at the little seaport town of Santander, looking out upon the Atlantic, whose bracing air, it was hoped, would invigorate her Majesty. Her reception by her former subjects was chilHng. In the following October she entered Madrid without receiving the slightest sign of welcome, recognition of her being confined to wondering stares. During her stay she incessantly wrangled with the Ministry about a few thousand pounds which she declared was due to her from the overburdened nation at the time of her departure. 266 XTbe IRoniance of "IRo^alti^ The King Consort had remained in France, but Marfori had returned to Spain. At this time Alfonso's Court was presided over by his eldest sister, whom death had graciously rid of her wretched Neapolitan husband, the Comte de Girgenti. As it was con- sidered that in beginning a new reign the old order of immorality had better be dispensed with ; that a Royal household that had for its mistress a young widow — soon to be replaced it was hoped, by a young wife — could not suffer the presence of Marfori, his dismissal was desired by and demanded by the Prime Minister, Canovas del Castillo. To part with the man for whose sake she had sacrificed a crown, was a concession which Isabel could make only because duty required it, and a successor had already been selected. When it was therefore repre- sented to Marfori, that the air of Madrid was unsuited to his health, which could not fail to benefit by the more bracing atmosphere of the Canary Isles, he received permission to visit them from Isabel, who was always solicitous for the welfare of her friends. No doubt her liberality reconciled him to the change of cHmate ; at all events, majestic to the last, with the proud air of one who can bear reversals with becoming dignity, he made his farewell bow to the Spanish Court. The time had now come when his Ministry and his subjects wished the King to marry, in the hope Ubc Stoi'\? of Isabel II. of Spain 267 that his alliance with a daughter of some European Power would strengthen the influence of Spain, and give him heirs that would perpetuate his dynasty and secure peace in the future to the nation. Alfonso was quite ready to marry, but fully determined that his wife should be none other than his cousin, the Princess Marie de las Mercedes, second daughter of the Due de Montpensier. Seeing her in Paris, he had fallen deeply in love with one who was not only beautiful, but whose bright intelligence and kind heart made her singularly winning. Before being called to the throne he had declared to her that she alone should be his Consort. As it happened, he could scarcely have made a choice less popular with his subjects ; for not only would this union fail to give the support and influence to the State, which might be expected from an alliance with the daughter of a ruling Power, but the Princess Mercedes was the daughter of a man universally detested by the Spaniards. An intriguer and a meddler, he had by underhand means and for his own purposes been the organiser and paymaster of the Republic of 1868. His hand had killed the King's uncle. Though rich, he was remarkable for the repugnant vice of stinginess, and was a harsh, grasping landlord to his tenants. Added to this was the fact that no sooner was he convinced that Alfonso would marry Mercedes even if she were 268 Zbc IRomance ot IRo^alt^ penniless, than the dowry of a million francs sterling which he had promised her was reduced to about a twenty-fifth part of that sum. Besides the disapproval of his subjects and the opposition of his Ministers to his choice, the King also had to meet the stormy outbursts of his mother's anger. That he failed to seize an oppor- tunity that probably could never be repeated, to strengthen his position, was a trifle in comparison with his design to place the daughter of her arch- enemy on the throne. Reproaches and warnings having failed to change his determination. Queen Isabel quitted Spain in November, and returned to Paris, fuming with rage. Always impetuous, reckless, and irresponsible, she did not hesitate, in her efforts to revenge herself and to punish her son, to take an action the most harmful to him, the most dangerous to the peace and prosperity of her country, that could be conceived. Her first step in this direction was to drive to the Paris residence of Don Carlos to pay him a visit of reconciliation. As he was absent from Paris at that date (December 15th, 1877) her Majesty was received by his wife, the Duchess of Madrid ; but no sooner had he returned than Isabel, in her anxiety to establish friendly relations with him, called on the Pretender once more, addressed him as " his Majesty," and expressed her ZTbe Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain 269 warm regard for him. All Europe was amazed at such overtures. That she should ally herself with a man whose obstinacy and ambition had caused bloodshed and devastation to Spain ; who had denounced her son as an usurper ; who had laughed at the appeal made at Alfonso's accession to end civil war ; who had done all in his power to over- throw the young monarch ; who had ceased from harassing his unfortunate country only when over- come by force of arms ; and who might take the field and raise rebellion any day, was news that set the blood of every Spaniard aflame. That she was willing and anxious to aid the schemes of the bitterest enemy that her son and her people had to reckon with, was but a natural inference. This was strengthened when it became pubHcly known that she not only entertained Don Carlos at her table, but had dined with him in order to meet two Carhst Generals, Tristany and Iparaguizze, whose names summoned recollections of terror to all lovers of peace. Wild with indignation, her former subjects demanded that the handsome income allowed her by the Government should be stopped ; and before this desire could be brought before the Cortes, the Spanish Embassy at Paris was not only forbidden to hold any communication with her, but its personnel were instructed to ignore her presence wherever or 270 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ whenever they met her. At the same time, in the last days of December, Don Carlos and his wife received notice from the French Government to quit France within twenty-four hours. This latter action convinced her Majesty that she had gone too far, when she immediately addressed her impotent excuses through the Figaro to those whom her recent conduct had enraged. In her letter to that journal she said It was neither in accordance with her character nor her custom to have recourse to the press, even to defend herself from unworthy and unjustifiable attacks ; but when the most simple and the most natural actions of her private life were misrepresented, when political adventurers made use of pubHcity to injure all who showed her consideration or respect, she did not hesitate to vindicate herself. *' My good and cordial relations with my cousin Don Carlos and his wife. Dona Margarita de Bourbon, are a secret to no one," continues her Majesty. " I have never forfeited their esteem nor they mine, and I will not, more- over, disregard the bonds of kinship which unite us, and which misfortune has cemented. . . . What reason is there for sending away from this generous and hospitable country an exile whose present position is without hostility, and who is persecuted, it is asserted, on my account ^ Can there be aught but a calumny in the supposition that I would conspire Zbc Stor^ of Isabel II. of Spain 271 against my dearly loved son, for whom 1 have sacrificed everything ? Is it not revolting to think that on an imaginary supposition this French hos- pitality, in which I have sought repose from my political life, should break with its traditions ? I address myself to your loyalty to make known the truth as to the good relations subsisting between my cousin and myself, relations that have nothing to do with politics." Anxious that her sudden and warm friendship with her son's worst enemy might not be considered as having political tendencies, or as a means of resenting his Majesty's defiance of her will, as wicked- minded people suggested, Isabel announced her intention of presenting personally to the Princess Mercedes a Royal mantle that had been specially embroidered for her. In answer to this amiable desire she was plainly assured by the Spanish Government, that any attempt on her part to cross the frontiers of Spain, would expose her to rigorous treatment. The sequel to this rude message was — according to the Parisian press, which kept a watchful eye on her Majesty — that she was frequently seen in the church of St. Pierre de Chaillot, holding a lighted taper in her hand with the flame down- wards, an action that was supposed to have a maledictory signification. Meantime the King remained firm in his resolution 272 Ube IRomance of 1Ro\?alt^ to marry the Princess Mercedes or none. A love so genuine, so fully prepared for sacrifices as that of this lad just twenty, for this girl of seventeen, won them the sympathy and aid of his Prime Minister, Senor Canovas del Castillo, a distinguished writer, a man of broad mind, who felt a warm affection for the young Sovereign. Accordingly on January iith, 1878, he read a Royal message to the Cortes announc- ing the marriage. A discussion regarding it was held three days later, when General Pavia, who had fought for Isabel at the Revolution, bitterly opposed the union on the ground of its disadvantage to Spain. In this he was backed by Senor Moyano, who said the claims of the State should be considered before those of affection, and who then attacked the Due de Montpensier. After many speeches had been made, the Royal marriage was approved of by three hundred and nine votes against four. The members of the Cortes and the public had been brought to look with more favour on the marriage, when it was made known that within a few weeks of its celebration, at the King's desire, and by his own consent, the Due de Montpensier and his family would quit Spain. The day on which this marriage took place, January 23rd, 1878, was long memorable in Madrid for its picturesque display, its splendid pageantry, its rapturous joy. From daybreak the people poured into the streets, through which bands passed, playing xrbe Stor\? ot Isabel II. ot Spain 273 stirring marches and national hymns with a vigour that discarded the niceties of harmony, and atoned for tune by blaring sound. Under a dazzling sun and the clearest of opalescent skies, every square, street, and passage glowed with colour ; for there was not a balcony or window that was not hung with ancestral tapestries, heraldic draperies, the national flags, religious banners, and streamers of bright ribbons. By ten o'clock, when the Royal procession started from the palace for the church of Nuestra Senora de los Atocha, the populace was almost mad with excitement. Bells pealed joyously from scores of church towers and belfries, cannon thundered, bands played, crowds shouted exultantly. Such a scene had never been witnessed even in Spain as this procession, headed by two and twenty caballos de respeto^ or horses without riders, but with Moorish-Spanish trappings, green, white, yellow, and blue. Following jthis dazzling display of colour came an escort of cavalry and then the gala equipages, filled by the Royal Household in their brilliant uniforms and official costumes, and drawn according to their rank by two, four, or six horses. The King's carriage, a blaze of scarlet and gold surmounted by the Royal crown, was drawn by eight white horses ; as was that in which sat the bride, her face pale from nervousness, her eyes liquid from emotion as they looked at the surging enthusiastic masses, that hailed her with waving VOL. I. 18 2 74 tTbe IRomance of IRoyaltg arms, and blessed her with lusty throats. But the Royal carriages, gorgeous as they were, could not com- pare with those of the grandees of Spain, painted by great artists, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, gilt, and with plumes of crimson, blue, green, or yellow feathers in their horses' heads, their harnesses glittering with gold or silver, their solemn footmen in liveries of antique design and gorgeous splendour. The Cardinal Archbishop of Benarides, with mitre and crosier, met his Majesty at the church door, and to the triumphant peals of the organ led him to the altar, where presently he was joined by the bride. Then in the presence of the little King Consort, brave in his uniform of a Captain-General, with many orders crossing his narrow chest ; in the presence of dukes and duchesses, princes and princesses, of the special envoys of kings and queens, of the nobility of Spain and members of the Senate, the Patriarch of the Indies performed the ceremony that made this youth and maiden man and wife. When it had ended, the bride turned to kiss the hands of her parents, but etiquette forbidding this to a Sovereign of Spain, they kissed her on the forehead. That night the city blazed with light, and for a week festivities and displays followed each other to celebrate an event whose sequel was to end in profound sadness. Seldom if ever did any Royal couple begin their married life with such prospects of happiness. The Ube Story of Isabel II. ot Spain 275 King adored Mercedes ; she worshipped him ; and their days were golden. On presenting his Consort to the Cortes on February 15th, Alfonso declared that they both would devote their strength and energy to promote the welfare of Spain, with which they identified their aspirations for happiness. This statement both kept in view. Quickly the people, who at first had looked coldly if not with hostility, on the marriage, took the bride to their hearts ; for they were not only captivated by her appearance, and by the romance of her wooing, but by her natural goodness of heart that showed itself in sympathy for suffering, in charitable deeds, in her refusal to accept an allowance from the Civil List because it would increase the burden of the heavily rated taxpayers, and in the example of domestic life which she showed to all. And soon they came to regard her not only as the purest gem the crown of Spain had known for centuries, but as the bringer of luck to the nation. For with her marriage the insurrection of Cuba which had cost Spain one hundred thousand lives, came to a close ; the brawl of political factions was quieted ; and the country gave promise of prosperity. A jewel beyond all price to her husband, he would have adorned her with priceless jewels had it been in his power. But those belonging to the Queens of Spain had been claimed as her own by his mother ; 276 Ube IRomance of IRoi^altg who for their safe keeping had placed in the treasury of the church of the Atocha, diamonds and other precious stones valued at fifteen million reals, or about three million francs. On making application to his mother for these, she who was unwilling to have them worn by Montpensier's daughter, replied that he could have them if he purchased them. On his declining to do so, Isabel threatened to sell them by public auction, when the King immediately took legal proceedings to prevent her intention from being carried out. Before further steps could be taken, an event occurred which ended the dispute in a manner none feared or foresaw. The popularity of the young and gracious Queen, rose to its height when it became known in June that she was to become a mother. I'his joyful news had not lost the freshness of its flavour, when a whisper spread like a chilling wind, that she was attacked by an illness not warranted by her condition. Unaccountable physical prostrations and cold sweats had been followed by vomitings so severe as to produce hemorrhage. Senor Gregorio, President of the Faculty, and Physician to the Royal Family, was hastily summoned on June 21st, when he examined his patient and declared there was no danger. Belief in his words helped to lift the incommunicable fear and black depression that had seized upon the King. Mercedes rallied and then became worse, at which tTbe Stoi*^ of Isabel II. of Spain 277 Senor Gregorio brought three doctors to her bed- side. None of them agreed as to the cause of her malady, which was now suspected must end in her death ; but they united in giving it a name — gastric fever. So rapid was its development that on the 23rd a telegram saying, " Mercedes is in the death agony ; come without loss of time," was sent to her parents. At the moment they received this first intimation of her illness, they were celebrating the christening of the youngest daughter of the Comte and Comtesse de Paris at the Chateair d'Eu. Stricken with terror, they reached the nearest railway station of Trepont, to find it was impossible to get a special train to take them to Paris. After an intolerable wait they travelled by the ordinary slow train, with its aggra- vating stoppages, to Paris, from whence, as fast as steam could carry them, they travelled to Madrid. It was night when they arrived. A reply to their first breathless inquiries assured them that their beloved daughter still lived, but the city through which they were driven seemed as if it already mourned its dead. Neither sound of merriment nor blaze of lights was heard or seen. Sombre figures entered churches left open for the purpose, to pray for her Majesty. The splashing of the fountains in the Puerta del Sol sounded like the expression of human sorrow, and it seemed as if the tolling of 27B ttbe IRomance oi IRo^alty bells might momentarily smite the heavy air. Around the Royal palace, whose massiveness was outlined by the yellow lights of its innumerable windows, and canopied by a purple dome, star-lit, serene, and in- sensible to mortal griefs, groups of anxious people had gathered, their frightened eyes questioning each other, thoughts rising in their minds which their lips scarce dared to whisper. For there were those among them who remembered threats spoken six months before, when the girl now dying had been made a wife, that no child of her hated race should reign in Spain — a saying now brought forcibly to mind by the appearance of the detested Montpensier driving rapidly past them in a race between himself and death. Mercedes was asleep when her parents arrived, but she awoke presently to find her hand lovingly clasped in that of her mother. That touch, more than all else, brought back the days of her girlhood not yet exhausted, though she was being called away. For she, poor child, was unwilling to leave the husband who was the source of all her happiness, unwilling to leave in inexpressible loneliness and grief one whom she idolised, unwilling to leave the people who loved her, the joys common to humanity, beside which those promised by her confessor seemed vision- ary, flavourless, incomparable with those she had just begun to realise. And she was yet so young, for only on June 24th (1878) had she reached her tbe Stor^ of Isabel IL ot Spain 2^/9 eighteenth birthday ; yet on the 27th she died in her husband's arms, his frantic embrace being powerless to keep her beside him. Consternation spread throughout the country. The capital, darkened and subdued, expressed a sorrow that was deepened by mystery. The light of his life has passed for ever from the King. Contrary to the custom practised with the remains of Royalty, the young Queen was not embalmed. This was said to be due to the wishes of her father, who also de- sired that her last resting place should not be that chill, marble chamber in the dreary Escorial known as El Panteon de los Infantes, reserved for queens who have not had the honour of being the mothers of kings, or of reigning as regents — etiquette, which in Spain rules even in death, reserving another vault for those so highly favoured. The remains of the ill-fated Queen were placed in a side chapel of the Escorial church, until a basilica could be raised to receive them, whose magnificence would perpetuate her memory and testify to her husband's grief It was presently announced that a million reals would be deducted from the Civil List annually for the construction of the basilica until it was finished. The Due de Montpensier and the King's eldest sister, the Princess of the Asturias, promised a subscription of two hundred thousand reals yearly for the same purpose, while on a request being made at the instance of the 28o trbe IRomance of IRo^alt^ King to Isabel, that she should devote the proceeds of the disputed jewels to the building, she, always impetuous and emotional, immediately telegraphed to Alfonso : " Your mother, my child, not only permits the jewels of the Atocha to be sold, but she blesses you and joins in your project — a project worthy of a King, a Christian, and a good husband." It is in itself a commentary on human nature to state that the basilica was never built. The remains of Mercedes still rest in a side chapel of the Escorial church. ~ As there was no heir to the Crown, and the country was yet far from settled, it became necessary that its King should marry again with as little delay as possible. When this was urged upon the heart- broken husband by Senor Canovas del Castillo, he replied that if ever he took another wife it would be the Archduchess Maria Christina of Austria, whom he remembered as a tall slim girl at the Court of Vienna when he was a student at that capital. To this Princess, Maria Christina Henrietta Desiree Felicite Reniere, daughter of the Archduke Charles Ferdinand and of the Archduchess Elizabeth of Austria, there could be no objection politically. In all ways she seemed desirable as a Queen Consort, for she was known to have been carefully educated by her devoted mother, to be intellectual and accom- plished, and to possess an ability and force of character that had induced her cousin the Emperor Francis tlbe Stor^ ot Isabel II. of Spain 281 Joseph, to appoint her at the age of eighteen as Abbess of the House of Noble Ladies of St. Teresa in Prague. Born on July 2ist, 1858, she was in 1878 just twenty, and eight months younger than Alfonso. Negotiations between the Courts of Spain and Vienna were at once opened regarding the marriage, which both sides regarded as most suitable. Before any formal step was taken, the young Archduchess desired that she and Alfonso should have an oppor- tunity of becoming better acquainted, and of judging for themselves if they were suited to each other. Accordingly she and her mother went to Arcachon, in the south of France, where the Spanish King joined them in September, 1879. In the quietness of this retreat, unrestricted by the formalities of a Court or the distractions of entertainments, they came to an understanding that resulted in an agreement to marry. On October 17th a special ambassador, the Due de Baylen, attended by a magnificent suite, left Madrid for Vienna, to ask the hand of the Arch- duchess for his Royal master. Five days later a special audience was given him by the Emperor of Austria in the Throne-room of the palace, when his Majesty granted the request, and the bride elect solemnly surrendered all her rights of succession to the Austrian Crown, in accordance with the law obliging all princesses of the Imperial House to do so when they wed a foreign prince. 282 tTbe IRomance ot IRo^alr^ On November 17th, 1879, ^^e Archduchess and her mother, attended by a numerous retinue, left Vienna for Madrid, which they reached on the morning of the 24th, to receive a courteous reception. On the 29th of the same month, Alfonso stood before the high altar of the church of the Atocha beside his second bride, where but a few months previously he had made Mercedes his wife. The ceremony was celebrated with great pomp and state, and the city rejoiced for four days, contrary to the wishes of their Majesties, who desired that instead of money being expended in this way, it should be devoted to those suffering from the recent inundations which had laid waste many towns and villages in the province of Murcia, the whole plain surrounding its capital being under water for a distance of twenty miles. Eager as the King was to see his country enjoy peace and prosperity, endeavour as he would to give it such blessings, all his hopes and aims in these directions seemed vain. Distant Cuba still caused trouble. Republicanism showed its vitality whenever an opportunity offered, revolutionary outbreaks in the army had to be faced, and political struggles for place and power rent the Cortes. Twice had attempts been made to take the King's life. But it was not until 1885, that the severest sufferings scourged this unfortunate country. In the beginning of that year disastrous earthquakes became daily occurrences in the Zbc Story of Isabel II, of Spain 283 south, and continued for about six months. Some idea of the ruin they caused is gained from the official returns, which state that from Christmas, 1884, to the end of February, 1885, sixty-three towns and villages in the province of Granada alone had five thousand four hundred and eighty houses destroyed ; while six hundred and ninety inhabitants were killed, and eleven hundred and seventy persons were injured. As during the inundations at Murcia, the King had gone among the sufferers, helping them by personal endeavours as well as by money and by sympathetic words, so at the height of this panic he hurried to those wretched people who were beside themselves with terror, their lives momentarily threatened, their relatives and friends snatched from them, most of them homeless and penniless, with no prospect but starvation before them. Alfonso had scarcely returned to Madrid, when the air was filled with rumours of the discovery of a plot to assassinate him during the Royal visit he was to pay to the churches on Holy Thursday. Several arrests were made. This was in early spring. The summer brought an outbreak of cholera, that beginning at Barcelona, spread rapidly to most of the central and southern provinces. For months it raged with terrible virulence, the death rate rising in August to sixteen hundred daily. The King at once expressed a desire to visit his afflicted subjects, an intention that 284 Ube IRomance ot IRo^alti? was Instantly and violently opposed by his Ministers, who told him that if he did, they would resign. He therefore said nothing more of the subject to them, though he was still determined to do what he regarded as his duty. Therefore when an opportunity of slipping quietly away offered itself one day, he quietly left the palace accompanied only by an aide- de-camp, walked to the railway station, and taking his place unostentatiously in an ordinary carriage, was on his way to the stricken district before any one of his family or his Ministers were aware of it. Such acts as these made him beloved by his subjects ; and the general knowledge that he could not reign long over them, did not lessen their love. For there was no concealing the fact that Alfonso was the victim of a consumption he had not inherited from the King Consort nor yet from his mother. Always a fragile figure, narrow-chested and without the colour of health in his face, he was at the same time alert, manly, bright mannered, disdaining all semblance of invalidism, and indeed disregarding and turning his back on the signs and warnings his constitution gave him. The means he had sought to dissipate the great grief of his life in its bitterest moments, had sapped his vitality ; but none were allowed to suppose at this time that his condition was serious. In the early winter of 1885, Dr. Camison, who was in attendance on his Majesty, was anxious that Zbc Stor^ of Isabel II. ot Spain 285 he should leave the capital for the milder climate of the south ; for with its variable temperature and the subtle, penetrating winds that sweep down upon it from the snow-capped Guadarrama mountains, Madrid has always been recognised as a city fatal to con- sumptive invalids, the treachery of its air being described by an old proverb stating that a breath insufficient to extinguish a candle will put out a man's life. The King, who had a will of his own, refused to leave at a time when he believed it was his duty to remain and open the Cortes, and when he considered that his absence would have an ill effect at home and abroad. As a compromise he consented to remove in October to the Pardo Palace, six miles from Madrid. The Queen Consort, his mother, with whom he had become reconciled soon after the death of Mercedes, and his aunt, the Duchesse de Montpensier, accompanied him. Their united persuasions gained from him a promise that towards the end of November he would go to San Lucar, near Seville, the Due de Montpensier's country residence, and the date for the journey was fixed for the 30th of the month. Meanwhile the public heard little about his health, but what little was heard gave no cause for alarm. On November 4th the Madrid correspondent of The Times stated that the news he had daily from the Pardo was in every way satisfactory. On the 24th of the month he was " informed, notwithstanding 286 Ube IRomance ot IRo^alt^ unfavourable rumours," that the King was progressing in health. It was on the same date that the first official announcement of his Majesty's illness was published. On the following morning at nine o'clock he passed peacefully away in the presence of his devoted wife. The immediate cause of his death was dysentery. The guards were doubled at the Royal palace at Madrid and at the public offices, and the garrison prepared against a rising, before news of the King's death was made known to his people, who bewildered and grief-stricken, rushed into the streets where they questioned each other, prayed for the dead, and bewailed their loss. Even an hour like this was not too sacred for the lovers of intrigue to weave their plots ; and with an eye to their own interests, an attempt was made by one party to have Isabel proclaimed Regent, and by another faction to have that dignity conferred on the King's eldest sister, the Comtesse de Girgenti. Both immediately declined to usurp the rights of Queen Maria Christina. The latter had given birth to two daughters : Maria de las Mercedes, Princess of the Asturias, born September I2th, 1880; and the Infanta Maria Teresa Isabel, born November 1 2th, 1882. The elder of these, a child of five, was declared the successor to the Throne, with her mother as Regent. As her Majesty was soon to become a mother, the rights of the infant about Zhc Stor\? of Isabel II. of Spam 287 to be born were reserved in case he should be a male child. The remains of Alfonso XII. were removed with all possible pageantry from the Pardo to the Royal palace at Madrid, where they lay in state in the Salon des Columnas for three days, and were visited by thousands of sorrowing people. Then on Sunday, the 30th, they were taken to the Escorial, where according to the etiquette of such a ceremony, they passed through the great gate which no Spanish Sovereign enters alive, and were received by the Minister of Justice, who addressing the bearers, said, " Huntsmen of Espinosa, is this the body that you received on the death of Alfonso XII. ? " " The same," answered the Chief Huntsman. " Do you swear it ? " was asked. " Yes, we swear it," came the reply, when the body was borne to the nave of the church. A solemn Requiem Mass was celebrated by the Bishop of Madrid, after which all that was mortal of the King was laid in one of the empty sarcophagi of black marble, that standing in niches of the octagon chamber named the Panteon, await the bodies of the Sovereigns of Spain. The King's death was followed twenty-four hours later by that of Marshal Serrano, Due de la Torre, who had played many parts in the government of his country. From the time of Alfonso's accession, he had lived quietly, no longer desiring place or 288 XLhc IRoniancc of IRoi^alt^ honour, somewhat weary of a political career that had seen eighty-four radical changes in the Spanish Ministries, forty distinct pronunciamentos or re- bellions, and twelve changes either in the person or the character of the supreme power in Spain. On May 17th, 1886, the Oueen gave birth to a son, an event hailed with inexpressible joy by the monarchical party in Spain. Ten days later this boy, the present King of Spain, was baptised in the palace chapel, Pope Leo XIII. standing godfather by proxy, the names given him being Alfonso Fernando Maria Isidoro Pascal Antonio. The separation of Queen Isabel and the King Consort had not been marked by rancour. On the contrary, a friendship survived between them sufficiently strong to enable them to tolerate each other's society for a few hours twice a year. These occasions were their respective birthdays. On May 13th, the date of his nativity, Isabel drove to his chateau at Omesson, lunched with him, chatted with him, smoked a cigarette in his presence, and drove back to Paris. This visit he politely returned on her birthday, October loth. His visits elsewhere were few, for he led a retired life and seldom cared to leave the grounds of his residence. On April 12th, 1902, Isabel received news from the Papal Nuncio, who was then staying with the King, that his Majesty was seriously ill. On this she immediately drove to Omesson, when she found trbe Stor^ of Isabel ll. ot Spain 289 that her husband was suffering from inflammation of the lungs. His condition seemed so grave that she sent for her two surviving daughters. The Comtesse de Girgenti was the first to arrive from Madrid, followed some hours later by the Princess Maria of Bavaria, who had hurried from Munich. All recognised that the patient had come to the end of his journey. The Queen remained in his room day and night until he died on the morning of April 17th, 1902, when he was within a few weeks of reaching his eightieth birth- day. On the 19th his remains were taken to the Escorial, and placed in one of the black marble sarcophagi in the Panteon. Within two months of the King's death, on June 2nd, Carlos Marfori, Marquis de Loja, died, supremely proud to the last that for his sake a crown had been sacrificed. Isabel outlived them by nearly two years ; she dying on April 9th, 1904, at the Palace de Castile in Paris. VOL. I. 19 IV THE ROMANCE OF THE SECOND EMPIRE 291 CHAPTER I William Kirkpatrick, Grandfather of the Empress Eugenie — His Three Daughters and their Husbands — Don Cipriano, Comte de Teba, Father of Eugenie — His Marriage and its Results — He becomes Comte de Montijo — His Vivacious Wife — Her Travels to Europe and Meeting with Prosper Merimee — The Marriage of his Elder Daughter — A Man who had been Buried before he was Born — The Countess holds a Confidential Post at the Court of Isabel— In Paris once more — Introduction to Napoleon — The Approach to the Throne of France — Napoleon is Elected Emperor — He is Recognised by England — The Comtesse de Teba Offers him her Fortune — Devotion of the Princess Mathilde to her Cousin — Her Marriage and its Sequel — Lord Malmesbury's Description of her Appearance at a Fancy Ball — Miss Howard and Napoleon — Her Substantial Aid — Napoleon in Search of a Wife — The Courts of Europe Unwilling to Furnish him with a Consort — His Proposal for the Princess Adelaide of Hohenlohe— Queen Victoria Discusses the Subject with her Foreign Minister — A Dramatic Incident Leads to the Emperor's Proposal to Eugenie de Teba — Opposition to the Marriage — Napoleon's Determination. THE high yellow-washed house with its long narrow windows protected by jalousies, standing in the Calle San Juan in Malaga, is yet pointed to as the former residence of William Kirkpatrick, the maternal grandfather of the Empress of the French. A scion of the Kirkpatricks of Closeburn in Scotland, who were dispossessed of their lands 293 294 XTbe IRomance ot IRo^alt^ and persecuted as traitors for their adherence to the Stuarts, William had escaped to Spain and settled in the sunny little city of Malaga, that rises on a hill above the Mediterranean. Tall and sinewy, ruddy skinned and fair haired, he was the fortunate possessor not only of the physical traits of his race, but of the sagacity that enables them to see and grasp the chances of success. Starting as a wholesale fruit and wine merchant, and carrying on a trade with England and America, he was soon sufficiently prosperous to afford a wife. His selection fell on a Spanish girl of good family, Dona Francisca Maria, daughter of Baron de Grivegnee, who bore him three daughters and a son. His heir died in infancy, but the girls grew up strong and handsome, and were sent to school to France, from whence they returned in 1841. Their Scotch descent, their French education, and their striking appearance gave them a distinction that drew many admirers to their mother's salon. From these they lost no time in selecting husbands. Carlotta Catalina married her cousin, Thomas James Kirk- patrick, son of John Kirkpatrick, who had been paymaster in the English army under Wellington, and had in this way compensated those who helped to overthrow the Napoleonic dynasty, whose restora- tion later on was to be aided by another member of the family. A second daughter, Henriquita, married Count Cabarrus, the owner of a large sugar plantation Ubc IRoinance ot tbe Secont) ]£mpire 295 at Velez, near Malaga. But the eldest, Maria Manuela, was more ambitious in her choice of a partner. By far the handsomest of her sisters, she was also the most vivacious, original, and adroit. A good linguist, she was also something of a musician ; her voice if hard, was effective to those who admire volume ; and above all she was an excellent actress, a gift she was wise enough to exercise where it is most certain to bring profit, the domestic circle. Among her parents guests was a man advanced in years, lean, saffi-on-complexioned, whose face was marred by the loss of an eye, and whose tall figure was somewhat spoiled by a maimed arm and leg. On this human wreck the beautiful and fascinating Maria Manuela bestowed her sweetest smiles, to him she sang love songs in the softest tones her voice would permit, to him she confided her troubles arising from the ardour of impetuous youths to whom her heart could not respond, and for whom she had words only of reproach and rejection. For lame and half blind, middle aged and bloodless as he was, he was also Don Cipriano Guzman de Palafox y Porto Carrero, Comte de Teba, second son of the Comte de Montijo and grandee of Spain, whose titles and large estates were then in the possession of Don Cipriano's elder unmarried brother, who was considered a confirmed bachelor. So inexhaustible is the egotism of human nature, 296 Zbc IRomance of IRo^altg that all men and women no matter what their defects, are ever willing to believe they are beloved for them- selves rather than for what they have or represent. Self esteem makes them easy victims to the designing, as was the case with this gallant soldier, who with the credulity not uncommon to those of his calling, believed that Maria Manuela regarded his eyeless socket and lame leg, not as disfigurements, but as noble proofs of heroism, and credited her — for a time — with loving him passionately. In spite of the opposition of his family to whose heartless cynicisms he remained hopelessly deaf, he proposed to marry her, when concealing her joy, she agreed to accept this portion of a man as her lord and master. As a grandee of Spain it was necessary for him to produce a pedigree of his future wife, proving her to be of noble descent, which had to be submitted to the King, when permission to marry was asked. That there would be no difficulty in procuring this, was a boast which William Kirkpatrick soon made good ; for a friendly scribe in the Herald's Office at Edinburgh, not only certified to his descent from Robert Bruce, but from that distinguished giant, Fin MacCual, King of the Fenians in the year a.d. 200. Beside the antiquity of such a pedigree, Comte de Teba, who was able to trace his family only to the reign of Alfonso XI. (1350), stood abashed. On seeing the pedigree in all its certitude of parchment and wax XLbc IRomance of tbe Secon& Empire 297 seals, Fernando VII. laughed heartily and irreverently, as he said, " Let the noble Montijo marry the daughter of Fin MacCual." Maria Manuela Kirkpatrick and the Count de Teba were made man and wife in 1 8 1 9, when anxious to show the world that romance still survived in hearts that were noble, disinterested, and pure, he took his bride to Madrid, and presented her at the Court of his Sovereign. That it would have been better to have kept her far removed from its seductions was one of the conclusions concerning her which he subsequently arrived at. Three children were given to them, a son and two daughters — Maria Francisca de Sales, born January 29th, 1825 ; and Maria Eugenia Ignace Augustina. At the time when the latter was born, May 5th, 1826, — the fifth anniversary of the great Napoleon's death — her mother was staying as the guest of her brother-in-law in the ancestral home of the Montijos, in the Calle de Gratia at Granada. A shock of earthquake, not uncommon in this province, hastened the entrance into this world of an infant who was destined to play a prominent part in its history. As his children grew up, their father found some compensation in their company for the disillusions marriage had so swiftly brought him. A common delight was found by them in hearing, and by him in telling, of the stirring scenes he had taken part in during the Peninsular War ; of 298 Zhc IRomance of 1Ro\?alt^ the sudden rousing by roll of drum and blare of bugle at dead of night of weary men ; of the mounting and marshalling of a vast army ; of the storming of forts and besieging of cities ; the savage rush of enemy against enemy ; the bloodshed of brave soldiers ; the devastation of fair countries ; the maiming of human beings, he himself an example, the victim of a gun that burst during the battle of Salamanca. But above all he told them of the great Napoleon, the little man who had risen from an insignificant corporal to be the mightiest of monarchs, who had changed the face of Europe and made its Sovereigns his subjects. Then there were stories of the Emperor's silent grief at sight of plains covered by the slain ; of the mysterious and wonderful influence he exercised over men ; the thrill with which the mere sound of his voice filled the hearts of armies willing to follow him to death. Most delightful of all was the account of that memorable day when the Emperor had with his own hand decorated his brave Spanish soldier. Every word regarding Napoleon, created an enthusiasm in the susceptible minds of these children, which one of them later on was to transfer to his heir and successor to the throne of France. The Count de Teba's income was limited during the first few years of his married life, but when his brother died in 1834, he inherited his estates and title as Comte de Montijo. By that time Don Cipriano's son Ube IRoinance ot tbc Sccou& Empire 299 had diedj so that he was without a male heir. It was in the same year — that succeeding the death of Fernando VII. — that Spain was writhing in the horrors of civil war. Many of the wives and children of the Spanish grandees fled from the country and sought refuge in France. Among them were the Comtesse de Montijo and her two daughters ; the Count, now a senator, considering that duty bound him to his country rather than to his wife, agreed with her in thinking it was best for him to remain in Madrid. At the same time the Countess's father, ruined by the distracted state of the country, left Spain and went to America, where he worked in lead mines, and even then contrived to make money. After travelling through various parts of France, the Comtesse de Montijo and her daughters settled in the capital. Here, among other distinguished men, Madame de Montijo made friends with Prosper Merimee, who was indebted to her, among other things, for the plot of Carmen, his famous novel, on which is founded the libretto of the still more famous opera of that name. His devotion to the Countess was only equalled by his interest in her daughters, whose dresses he selected and whose education he superin- tended with all the affectionate solicitude of a step- father. Eventually they were placed in the convent of the Sacred Heart in the Rue de Varennes, Paris, to complete their studies, their mother returning to Spain. 300 XTbe IRomance of IRo^alti^ They were yet in the convent when they were suddenly summoned home by the news of their father's dangerous iUness. Though they travelled as fast as was possible in those days, they did not arrive at Madrid before March 15th, 1839, the date on which the Count died. When the period usually devoted to mourning had passed, his unafflicted widow opened the doors of her salon, to which her brilliant conversation, her sprightli- ness, the renown of her fascinations, drew crowds that included members of the Cortes, passing foreigners of distinction, the Diplomatic Corps, grandees, and the leading artists and literary men in Madrid. Held on Sunday evenings at her house in the Plaza Angelo, they were continued into Monday mornings, the time made short by the exhaustless vivacity of the hostess and the resources of her entertainments, among which were the dancing and singing of young people, amateur theatricals, the hatching of political plots, the whisper- ings of piquant Court scandals, and other ministra- tions to the weaknesses of humanity. When driven by the heat of summer from Madrid, the Comtesse de Montijo entertained as joyously and hospitably at her country house at Carabanchel, within easy distance of the capital. It was natural that a leading part in these assemblies should be taken by her daughters, who it was believed would make briUiant marriages. None could sing so Ube IRomance of tbe Second Empire 301 charmingly, dance so bewitchingly, or act so cleverly as these young girls, who were exceedingly beautiful : the elder, Maria Francisca, olive-skinned and dark- eyed ; the younger, Eugenia, having features of classic regularity, her dazzlingly fair complexion heightened by the burnished gold of her hair, and by eyes whose deep blue darkened to violet under the shade of their long lashes. Additional attraction was found in the setting of her shapely head upon divinely moulded shoulders, and the superb grace of her tall and pUant figure. Her hands and feet were small as those of a child. That both should have many admirers was only to be expected ; yet among them there was but one whose ardour seemed sufficiently serious to point towards matrimony. This was the young and wealthy Duke of Alba and Berwick, who had some English blood in his veins, and might claim Royal descent in a left-handed manner. For the first Duke of Berwick was the eldest of the five children born to James II. by his mistress, Arabella Churchill, sister of the first Duke of Marlborough. James, Duke of Berwick, had fought bravely for his father's rights, and after the battle of the Boyne had fled to France, in whose army he rose to a high position. A soldier to the last, he fell fighting at the siege of Philipsburg in 1734. His grandson, the third Duke of Berwick, married a daughter of a Duke of Alba who had no male heirs, 302 ubc IRoinance ot IRo^alt^ when both titles were merged in the same individual. The admirer of the Comtesse de Montijo's eldest daughter was the eighth Duke of Berwick and the fifteenth Duke of Alba, in addition to which he was twelve times a grandee of Spain. Short of stature, shrunken, of weak physique, with a ghastly complexion, a hollow voice, and an icy atmosphere, his general appearance was spectral, as might be looked for in one who had been buried before he was born. The story of an occurrence which is not within common experience is briefly told. For some months previous to his birth, his mother suffered from a severe nervous illness, whose crisis ended in apparent death. As was then the practice in Spain, the rings she had been accustomed to wear, presents from those who loved her, were left on her fingers when her apparently lifeless body was placed in the family vault. On the first night that it rested there it was visited by thieves, who were determined to steal her valuable rings. They had slipped all but one from her stiffened fingers, but this, the most brilliant of her diamonds, could not be forced beyond the knuckle joint. A knife was produced, when the pain of a severed nerve passing like a shock through the frame of the seem- ingly lifeless woman, she sat up in her coffin, to see by the dim light of lanterns two scared figures flying from the vault, whose door they left wide open. Ubc IRoinancc ot tbe Second BmpU'e 303 Through this she presently struggled and gained her home, into which she had much difficulty in obtaining an entrance from its frightened inmates. Catalepsy being but a supreme effort of nature to rest the nervous system, she recovered from her illness, and in course of time gave birth to an heir, who through life had the ghastly pallor of one risen from the tomb. Both the Comtesse de Montijo's daughters, radiantly healthy and supremely beautiful, welcomed the atten- tions of this cadaverous and wealthy young man, and for a time it was a subject of speculation as to which of them he would select as his victim. His choice fell on the elder, who on the feast of St. Valentine, 1844, became his wife. This alliance was regarded with the greatest satisfaction by Madame de Montijo, who now looked forward to securing a husband equally desirable for her second daughter. When two years later the marriages of Queen Isabel and her sister the Infanta were celebrated, the Due d'Aumale, who journeyed with his brother the Due de Montpensier, to Madrid, was fascinated by the beauty of the Senora Eugenia, who since her father's death without male heirs had assumed his second title, and was known as the Comtesse de Teba. But as yet no offer of marriage which she considered worthy of her acceptance was made her. The Comtesse de Montijo was at this time a 3^4 tlbe IRomance of IJ^ogalt^ prominent figure in all the gaieties of the capital, being still young enough to love pleasure, and old enough to be experienced in all the subtleties of intrigue. A flattering compliment that acknowledged her talents in this direction was paid to her when she was appointed to the confidential post — the highest a woman could hold at Court — of Camarera Mayor, by Isabel, early in 1847, at the time when the Queen-mother quitted Madrid in indignation, and the supplanted King Consort retired to the Pardo palace, leaving her Majesty and certain of her courtiers free to hold high revelry. When Isabel's Prime Minister, Narvaez, intent on giving it an ap- pearance of respectability, made a clean sweep of the Court, Madame de Montijo lost her place in com- pany with those who like herself, loved propriety less than pleasure. Disdaining to live in a city where the diversions of a subject were interfered with by a politician, the Comtesse de Montijo and her daughter left Spain with the intention of spending some years in other European countries. Visiting their capitals, mixing among their most distinguished societies, and every- where receiving the admiration due to her beauty. Mademoiselle de Teba was surrounded and followed by groups of ardent admirers, among whom none that she was willing to marry presented himself. On the arrival of herself and her mother in Paris, COUNTESS DE MONTIJO (Mother of the Empress Eugenie). [Fncutg page 304. I ^be IRomance of tbe Second Binpire 305 they found the city stirred to inexpressible excitement by the political events that had recently happened there. On the downfall of King Louis Philippe, and the proclamation of the Republic in February, 1848, Prince Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, only sur- viving son of the great Napoleon's brother Louis Bonaparte, by his wife Hortense, daughter of the Empress Josephine, had been elected a member of the National Assembly, of which he became President on December 20th in the same year. Now known as the Prince President, he ruled as head of a great State, and received in regal style at the Elysee Palace, the last residence in Paris of the great Napoleon, who had there signed his final abdication after the battle of Waterloo, but which was now the property of the Republic. Profoundly impressed in her childhood by the stories told by her father of the great Napoleon, the Senora Eugenia, Comtesse de Teba, had always felt an intense interest in the Bonaparte family, but especially in the career of Prince Charles Louis, who was — since the death of his two elder brothers, and of the Emperor's son, by some called the King of Rome, and by others the Due de Reichstadt — now the direct heir to his Imperial uncle. The fact that he had made two attempts to mount the throne of France, that as a result of one of his failures he had spent nearly six years a prisoner in the citadel of VOL. I. 20 3o6 Ubc IRomance of IRo^alt^ Ham, from where he had escaped in the disguise of a workman, gave him a romantic interest in her mind, which was heightened by the possibilities of his future. A yet more personal note in her concern regarding him, must have been sounded by the common reports of his ardour, which represented him as being intensely susceptible to the beauty or fascinations of women. Acquainted with the prominent politicians in Paris, Madame de Montijo and her daughter had no difficulty in obtaining an invitation to the Prince President's receptions, which were then presided over by his cousin, the Princess Mathilde. It was at one of these held in the Elysee Palace, surrounded by Ministers, diplomats, men of distinction, adventurers, brilliant, frail, and beautiful women, that the Comtesse de Teba saw the man who for years had deeply interested her ; a portly man of middle height, whose sallow-complexioned oval face was heavily moulded ; the forehead arched ; the nose large ; the chin softly rounded ; a thick moustache covering full lips ; his eyes, grey, magnetic, impressive, being the most striking feature in a face that was grave and inscrutable in its expression. Both ladies were presented to him by Count Bacciocchi, afterwards First Chamberlain, whose in- cessant pursuit of pleasure, and admirable talent in discovering objects that afforded fresh emotions to Ube IRoinancc of tbe Second lEmpire 307 the Prince, made them fast friends. From the first moment they met, Napoleon's deHcate susceptibiHties were impressed by the extraordinary beauty of the Comtesse de Teba. Nor was he unwiUing that she should see its effects upon him. This however was not a time when the Prince President could give himself freely to pursuits that had filled more than a fair share of his previous life ; for at the moment he was drawing near and nearer to the fulfilment of the scheme which had dominated him since he had become his uncle's heir. But before he could gain the throne, there was much to be done ; watchful hostility must be overcome, oaths broken, and blood shed. Although in December, 1848, he had taken an oath saying, " In the presence of God, and before the French people represented by the National Assembly, I swear to remain faithful to the Democratic Republic, one and indivisible, and to fulfil all the duties which the Constitution imposes on me," this pledge was found as time passed, to hamper the designs of one who for upwards of twenty years had believed it his destiny to wear the Imperial crown of France. As might have been expected, disagreements gradually arose between the Republican members of the National Assembly and its President who by December 2nd, 1 851, found himself strong enough to have a number of them arrested unexpectedly and flung into prison. 3o8 Ube IRomance of IRo^alt^ Astounded at this, the Parisians, who dreaded Imperialism, gathered their forces and erected barri- cades that served as their slaughter places. In the miniature reign of terror that followed of the 4th, men and women, many of whom had been drawn by curiosity into the streets, were with others who showed hostility, relentlessly shot down by the troops, who it has been stated and contradicted, were bribed by the President. Notwithstanding the number and brutality of the soldiers, the resistance of the unpre- pared populace was so strong, that at one time it seemed as if they would triumph. That this was not unexpected by Napoleon, may be gathered from the fact that travelling carriages packed with luggage and with horses harnessed, stood in the stables of the Elysee, ready for an immediate start if necessary. In the official reports the number killed by this coup d'etat was four hundred ; the wounded more than doubled that number ; while the number imprisoned and banished mounted to thousands. Reports were industriously spread through the provinces that the President's action was approved of by the Parisians, and newspapers that would probably make contrary assertions were suppressed. The country was then asked to vote as to whether or not " the French people wills the maintenance of the authority of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, and delegates to him the necessary powers to frame a tbe H^omance of tbe ^cconb i^mpirc 30^ Constitution." As all knew that opposition would not only be useless, but create anarchy, a vote of over eight millions confirmed him in power. Though it became arbitrary from that time, yet he con- sidered it safer to feel his way gradually to the throne. On January 3rd, 1852, a proclamation was issued ordering that the national coins should henceforth bear his effigy with the words, " Louis Napoleon Bona- parte " ; and on the obverse the phrase, *' Republique Fran^aise." The National Guard was disbanded through- out France, and the Imperial eagle was set up in the public offices and institutions. On the i6th of the same month the President promulgated a new Constitution, largely based on the Code Napoleon, which he hoped would give calm and prosperous days to the country. " May it," he said, " prevent the return of those intestine conflicts in which victory, however justly won, is always dearly purchased. May the sanction which you have given to my effiDrts receive the blessing of Heaven. Then peace will be assured at home and abroad ; my vows will be fulfilled ; my mission will be accomplished." In September, 1852, the Prince President set out from Paris on a tour through the provinces, intended to bring him in closer contact with the people, and to secure their tolerance and support to his final step to the throne. It was during this 3io the l^omance of IRo^att^ journey an incident happened that must have seemed prophetic to Napoleon, who was an implicit believer in omens and symbols, given by unknown powers as heralds or warnings of good or evil fortune. The story was told by Lord Cowley, then English Am- bassador to France, to Lord Malmesbury, who mentions it in his Memoirs of an Ex-