While Ferdinand, meantime, was chewing the cud of reflection at Vittoria, without those opiates of falsehood and flattery which Savary had continually administered, D. Mariano Luis de Urquijo waited upon him: one of the persons who had suffered under Godoy’s administration, and who had hitherto been regarded as one of the most enlightened Spaniards and truest friends of his country. The new King had annulled the proceedings against him, and he now came to offer his homage and his thanks, and his advice in this critical position of affairs. He told the King’s counsellors that Buonaparte certainly intended to extinguish the dynasty of the Spanish Bourbons; that the language of the Moniteur concerning the tumults at Aranjuez, the movement of his troops, the seizure of the fortresses, and the whole scheme of his policy, made this evident. Fearing and believing this, he asked them what they could propose to themselves from this journey? how they could suffer a king of Spain thus publicly to degrade himself by going towards a foreign state without any formal invitation, without any preparations, without any of the etiquette which ought in such cases to be observed, and without having been recognized as King, for the French studiously called him still Prince of Asturias? To these reasonable questions the poor perplexed ministers could only reply, that they should satisfy the ambition of the Emperor by some cessions of territory, and some commercial advantages. He made answer, that perhaps they might give him all Spain. The Duke del Infantado appeared to feel the force of Urquijo’s remonstrances, but asked if it were possible that a hero like Napoleon could disgrace himself by such an action as this apprehended treachery. Urquijo answered, that both in ancient history and in their own they might find that great men had never scrupled at committing great crimes for great purposes, and posterity nevertheless accounted them heroes. The Duke observed, that all Europe, even France itself, would be shocked at such an act; and that Spain, with the help of England, might prove a formidable enemy. To this Urquijo replied, that Europe was too much exhausted to engage in new wars; and that the separate interests and ambitious views of the different powers prevailed with each of them more than a sense of the necessity of making great sacrifices in order to destroy the system which France had adopted since her fatal revolution. Austria was at this time the only power capable of opposing Buonaparte, if Spain should rise against him; but if Russia and Germany and the rest of Europe were on the opposite side, Austria would be vanquished; the Spanish navy would be destroyed, and Spain would become nothing more than a theatre of war for the English against the French; in which, moreover, the English would never expose themselves unless they had something to gain, for England was not capable of making head against France in a continental war: the end would be the desolation of Spain and its conquest. As little reason was there to rely upon any disgust which might be felt in France at the injustice of its Emperor. In France there was no other public spirit but what received its impulse from the government. The French would be flattered if their Emperor placed a member of his family on the throne of Spain; they would perceive in such a change great political and commercial advantages to themselves; and the numerous classes who had a deep interest in the revolution, all who had taken part in it, all who had grown up in its principles, ... the men of letters, the Jews, and the protestants, would regard with satisfaction an event which, by completing the destruction of the house of Bourbon, gave them a farther security against the dreaded possibility of its restoration in France. What, then, he asked, was to be done? Nothing could be hoped from arming the nation; the internal state of Spain rendered it impossible to form a government capable of directing its force, and popular commotions must in their nature be of short duration: an attempt of this kind would produce ruinous consequences in the Americas, where the inhabitants would wish to throw off a heavy yoke, and where England would assist in just revenge for the imprudence with which Spain had promoted the insurrection in her colonies. He advised therefore, as the only means which offered any hope of extricating the new King from the danger which awaited him, that he should escape from the French, in whose hands he already was in fact a prisoner. This might be done at midnight, through the window of one of the adjoining houses; the Alcaide of the city would provide means for conducting him into Aragon. Meantime Urquijo offered to go to Bayonne as ambassador, and make the best terms he could with the Emperor: a business so ill begun, so ill directed, and in every way so inauspicious, could not end well; but it might be expected that when Napoleon saw the King had escaped the snare, and was in a situation where he could act for himself, he would find it prudent to change his plans.

These forcible representations were strengthened by D. Joseph Hervas, son of the Marquis de Almenara; he was the brother-in-law of General Duroc, and the intimate friend of Savary, with whom he had travelled from Paris. Through these connexions he had obtained, if not a certain knowledge of Buonaparte’s intentions, such strong reasons for suspecting them, as amounted to little less; and he communicated his fears to Ferdinand’s counsellors, and besought them, while it was yet possible, to save him from the snare. These warnings were in vain. But though Ferdinand’s counsellors could not be made to apprehend the real danger, that poor Prince felt his first apprehensions return upon him with additional force; disappointed of seeing Buonaparte, disappointed of hearing from him, he compared this mortifying neglect with the conduct of Murat and the ambassador, and as if to relieve his mind by complaining, wrote to the tyrant in ♦April 14.♦ a tone which confessed how entirely he was at his mercy. Elevated to the throne, he said, by the free and spontaneous abdication of his august father, he could not see without real regret that the Grand Duke of Berg and the French ambassador had not thought proper to felicitate him as King of Spain, though the representatives of other courts with which he had neither such intimate nor such dear relations, had hastened so to do. Unable to attribute this to any thing but the want of positive orders from his Imperial Majesty, he now represented with all the sincerity of his heart, that from the first moment of his reign he had never ceased to give the Emperor the most marked and unequivocal proofs of attachment to his person; that his first order had been to send back to the army of Portugal the troops which had left it to approach Madrid; and his first care, notwithstanding the extreme penury of the finances, to supply the French troops, making room for them by withdrawing his own from the capital.... He spoke of the letters he had written, the protestations he had made, the deputations he had sent. “To this simple statement of facts,” said he, “your Majesty will permit me to add an expression of the lively regret I feel in seeing myself deprived of any letters from you, particularly after the frank and loyal answer which I gave to the demand that General Savary came to make of me at Madrid in your Majesty’s name. That general assured me that your Majesty only desired to know if my accession to the throne would make any change in our political relations. I answered by reiterating what I had already written, and willingly yielding to this general’s intreaties that I should come to meet your Majesty to accelerate the satisfaction of being personally acquainted with you, I have in consequence come to my town of Vittoria, without regarding the cares indispensable from a new reign, which required my residence in the centre of my states. I therefore urgently intreat your Majesty to put an end to the painful situation to which I am reduced by your silence, and to relieve by a favourable answer the disquietude which too long an uncertainty may occasion in my faithful subjects.”

From this time Ferdinand had no longer to complain of Buonaparte’s silence: an answer was brought to Vittoria by Savary. It began by acknowledging the receipt of that letter which the Prince had written respecting the projected marriage before the affair of the Escurial, and the receipt of which Buonaparte had formerly denied. “Your Highness,” said he, (for the title of King was carefully withheld,) “will permit me, under the present circumstances, to address you with frankness and sincerity. I expected that, on my arrival at Madrid, I should have persuaded my illustrious friend to make some necessary reforms in his dominions, which would give considerable satisfaction to the public feeling. The removal of the Prince of the Peace appeared to me indispensable to his happiness and the interests of his people. I have frequently expressed my wishes that he should be removed; and, if I did not persevere in the application, it was on account of my friendship for King Charles, and a wish, if possible, not to see the weakness of his attachments. O wretchedness of human nature! imbecility and error! such is our lot. The events of the North retarded my journey, and the occurrences at Aranjuez supervened. I do not constitute myself judge of those events: but it is very dangerous for Kings to accustom their subjects to shed blood, and to take the administration of justice into their own hands. I pray God that your Highness may not one day find it so. It would not be conformable to the interests of Spain to proceed severely against a Prince who is united to one of the Royal Family, and has so long governed the kingdom. He has no longer any friends; as little will your Royal Highness find any, should you cease to be fortunate.... The people eagerly avenge themselves for the homage which they pay us.”

This was the language of one who felt that he held his power by no other tenure than that of force, and reconciled himself to that tenure by a base philosophy, ... thinking ill of human nature because he could not think well of himself. What followed was more remarkable. “How,” said he, “could the Prince of the Peace be brought to trial without implicating the King and Queen in the process of exciting seditious passions, the result of which might be fatal to your crown? Your Royal Highness has no other right to it than what you derive from your mother. If the cause injures her honour, you destroy your own claims. Do not give ear to weak and perfidious counsels. You have no right to try the Prince; his crimes, if any are imputed to him, merge in the prerogative of the crown. He may be banished from Spain, and I may offer him an asylum in France.”

With respect to the abdication, Buonaparte said, that, as that event had taken place when his armies were in Spain, it might appear in the eyes of Europe and of posterity as if he had sent them for the purpose of expelling a friend and ally from his throne. As a neighbouring sovereign, it became him, therefore, to inform himself of all the circumstances before he acknowledged the abdication. He added, “I declare to your Royal Highness, to the Spaniards, and to the whole world, that, if the abdication of King Charles be voluntary, and has not been forced upon him by the insurrection and tumults at Aranjuez, I have no difficulty in acknowledging your Royal Highness as King of Spain. I am therefore anxious to have some conversation with you on this subject. The circumspection which I have observed on this point ought to convince you of the support you will find in me, were it ever to happen that factions of any kind should disturb you on your throne. When King Charles informed me of the affair of the Escurial, it gave me the greatest pain, and I flatter myself that I contributed to its happy termination. Your Royal Highness is not altogether free from blame: of this the letter which you wrote to me, and which I have always wished to forget, is a sufficient proof. When you are King, you will know how sacred are the rights of the throne. Every application of an hereditary prince to a foreign sovereign is criminal.” The proposed marriage, Buonaparte said, accorded, in his opinion, with the interests of his people; and he regarded it as a circumstance which would unite him by new ties to a house whose conduct he had had every reason to praise since he ascended the throne.

A threat was then held out.... “Your Highness ought to dread the consequences of popular commotions. It is possible that assassinations may be committed upon some stragglers of my army, but they would only lead to the ruin of Spain. I have learnt, with regret, that certain letters of the Captain-General of Catalonia have been circulated at Madrid, and that they have had the effect of exciting some irritation.” After this menace, Buonaparte assured the young King that he had laid open the inmost sentiments of his heart, and that, under all circumstances, he should conduct himself towards him in the same manner as he had done towards the King his father; and he concluded with this hypocritical form, ... “My Cousin, I pray God to take you into his high and holy keeping.”

This letter might well have alarmed Ferdinand and his counsellors; but there came at the same time letters from the persons who had been sent forward to Bayonne, urging him to show no distrust of Buonaparte, but to hasten forward and meet him, as the sure and only means of averting the fatal effects of his displeasure, and securing his friendship. They had now indeed advanced too far to recede; and their thoughts were rather exercised in seeking to justify to themselves the imprudence which they had already committed, than in devising how to remedy it. They persuaded themselves that Buonaparte was not ambitious of adding territory to the French empire; that his conduct, even toward hostile powers, was marked by generosity and moderation; and that his leading maxims of policy were, not wholly to despoil his enemies, but to aggrandize and reward his allies at their expense, and with what he took from them to form states more or less considerable for his relations, whose interest it would be to observe his system and support his empire. The instances of Holland and Naples might indeed seem not very well to agree with this view of his conduct; but it was obvious, they said, that while Holland remained under a republican form it would unavoidably connive with England, and the Dutch themselves were desirous of the change; and with regard to Naples, Napoleon could not possibly act otherwise than he had done, after the conduct of that court. Such was the miserable reasoning with which Ferdinand’s advisers flattered themselves at the time, ♦Escoiquiz. Idea Sencilla, c. 3.♦ and which they have since offered to the world as their justification; instead of fairly confessing, that in consequence of the events at Aranjuez they had placed themselves in a situation in which there was no alternative for men of their pitch of mind but to surrender at discretion to Buonaparte.

All of them were not thus deluded. Cevallos would fain have gone no farther; and the people of Vittoria, more quick-sighted than their Prince, besought him not to proceed. On the other hand, General Savary assured him with the most vehement protestations, as Murat had done before, that the Emperor did not wish to dismember Spain of a single village; and he offered to pledge his life, that within a few minutes after his arrival at Bayonne he would be recognized as King of Spain and the Indies. The Emperor, to preserve his own consistency, would begin by giving him the title of Highness; but he would presently give him that of Majesty; in three days every thing would be settled, and he might return to Spain. General Savary, if these persuasions had proved ineffectual, was prepared to use other methods not less congenial to his own character and his master’s; for not only were there troops in the neighbourhood of Vittoria surrounding this ill-fated Prince, to intercept his retreat, if he should attempt it; but soldiers were ready that night to have seized him, and a French aide-de-camp was in the apartment waiting for the determination. ♦Escoiquiz, 41.♦ Confused and terrified as Ferdinand was, and feeling himself in the power of the French, the only ease he could find was by endeavouring implicitly to believe their protestations of friendship. ♦Apr. 19.♦ Accordingly the next morning he renewed his journey, though the people, finding their cries and entreaties were of no avail, even cut the traces of his coach, and led away his mules.

He proceeded, and crossed the stream which divides the two kingdoms. Scarcely had he set foot on the French territory, before he remarked, that no one came to receive him; a neglect more striking, as he had travelled so far to meet the Emperor. At St. Jean de Luz, however, the mayor made his appearance, attended by the municipality. Too humble to be informed of Buonaparte’s designs, and probably too honest to suspect them, he came to the carriage and addressed Ferdinand, expressing, in the most lively manner, the joy he felt at having the honour of being the first person to receive a sovereign, the friend and ally of France. Shortly afterwards he was met by the grandees, who had been sent to compliment the Emperor: their account was sufficiently discouraging; but he was now near Bayonne, and it was too late to turn back. The Prince of Neufchatel (Berthier) and Duroc, the marshal of the palace, came out to meet him, and conduct him to the place which had been appointed for his residence, ... a place so little suitable to such a guest, that he could not for a moment conceal from himself, that it marked an intentional disrespect. Before he had recovered from the ominous feeling which such a reception occasioned, Buonaparte, accompanied by some of his generals, paid him a visit. Ferdinand went down to the street door to receive him; and they embraced with every appearance of friendship. ♦Buonaparte receives him with an embrace.♦ The interview was short, and merely complimentary; Buonaparte again embraced him at parting. The kiss of Judas Iscariot was not more treacherous than this imperial embrace.

Ferdinand was not long suffered to remain uncertain of his fate. Buonaparte, as if to prove to the world the absolute callousness of his heart, ... as if he derived an unnatural pleasure in acting the part of the deceiver, ... invited him to dinner, ... sent his carriage for him, ... came to the coach steps to receive him, ... again embraced him, and led him in by the hand. Ferdinand sate at the same table with him as a friend, a guest, and an ally; and no sooner had he returned to his own residence, than General Savary, the same man who, by persuasions and solemn protestations, had lured him on from Madrid, came to inform him of the Emperor’s irrevocable determination, that the Bourbon dynasty should no longer reign in Spain; that it was to be succeeded by the Buonapartes; and therefore, Ferdinand was required, in his own name, and that of all his family, to renounce the crown of Spain and of the Indies in their favour.

On the following evening Escoiquiz was summoned to Buonaparte’s cabinet in the Palace of Marrac, which had been built as a residence for the Queen-dowager, Mariana of Neuburg, widow of that poor prince Charles II. A curious conversation ensued. The Corsican began by saying, that from the character which he had heard of this canon, he had long wished to talk with him respecting Ferdinand. “All Europe,” said he, “has its eyes upon us. My armies being at this time in Spain, it will be believed that the violent proceedings at Aranjuez, which have given to all courts the evil example of a son conspiring against his father and dethroning him, were my work. I must avoid this imputation, and make the world see that I am not capable of supporting an attempt equally unjust and scandalous. Consequently I could never consent to acknowledge Prince Ferdinand as King of Spain, unless his father, who has sent in a formal protest against the pretended abdication, should in full liberty renew that abdication in his favour. But on the other hand, the interests of my empire require that the house of Bourbon, which I must ever regard as the implacable enemy of mine, should no longer reign in Spain. This is your interest also; rid of a dynasty whose latter kings have caused all those evils by which the nation is so exasperated, it will enjoy a better constitution under a new race; and being by these means intimately connected with France, it will be always secure of the friendship of the only power whose enmity could endanger it. Charles himself, knowing the inability of his sons to hold the reins of government in times so difficult, is ready to cede to me his own rights and those of his family. I will therefore no longer suffer the Bourbon family to reign; but for the esteem which I bear toward Ferdinand, who with so much confidence has come to visit me, I will recompense him and his brothers as far as possible for what my political interests require that they should lose in their own country. Let him cede all his claims to the crown of Spain, and I will give him that of Etruria, in full sovereignty for himself and his heirs male in perpetuity, and advance him as a donation a year’s revenue of that state, to establish himself in it. I will give him also my niece in marriage. If this proposition be accepted, the treaty shall immediately be made with all solemnities; but if not, I will then treat with the father, and neither the Prince nor his brothers shall be admitted as parties, nor can they expect the slightest compensation. To the Spanish nation I shall secure their independence and total integrity under the new dynasty, with the preservation of their religion, laws, and customs; for I want nothing for myself from Spain, not even a village. If your Prince does not like this proposal, and chooses to return to Spain, he is free! he may go when he pleases! but he and I must fix a time for his journey, after which hostilities shall commence between us.”

Escoiquiz replied to this extraordinary speech by entering into an elaborate apology for the transactions at Aranjuez, to which Buonaparte listened with great patience, observing only from time to time, that however these arguments might appear to those persons who were intimately acquainted with the character of Charles and his Queen, it must ever be impossible to make the rest of the world believe that an abdication made under such circumstances of public and notorious force, was in any thing different from a deposal. But be that as it might, the interests of his house and of his empire required that the Bourbons should no longer reign in Spain; and then, Escoiquiz says, taking him by the ear, and pulling it with the best humour in the world, he added, “If all which you say were true, canon, I should still repeat ... bad policy. Exposed as I am every moment to a renewal of the war in the north, I should never have my back secure while the Bourbons occupied that throne; and Spain, with a man of talent at its head, could give me the greatest annoyance.” The canon again entered into a long reply, showing how completely the court of Spain had abandoned the Bourbons of France and of Naples, imputing the wish to join with Prussia wholly to Godoy, and observing that a marriage into the august imperial family would secure the attachment of Ferdinand. All Europe, he said, had fixed their eyes upon Bayonne; the Spaniards were looking with inconceivable impatience for the return of their young and beloved monarch, flattering themselves that Buonaparte would be to him both as father and mother, ... for it had been Ferdinand’s fate only to know his parents by the unnatural hatred which they had borne towards him. There would be no bounds to their gratitude, if, according to his imperial promise, he should honour the capital with his presence, bringing back with him the young King. The whole nation would receive him on their knees, would bless him, and would never forget his goodness; and Spain, thus restored to strength, would become a more efficient ally to France than she had ever yet been, and afford her the only means for reducing England to reason. But if the Emperor persisted in his present intentions the Spaniards would vow an inextinguishable hatred against him. Experience might show how deeply such feelings took root in the Spanish heart. An age had now elapsed since the war of the succession, and yet the rancour which had then been felt in Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia, against the Bourbon family, against France, and even against the Castilians, had never been wholly allayed till the recent accession of Ferdinand. But if this feeling had arisen in a question merely of doubtful right, what would it be if the people saw themselves deprived of a King whom they adored, to have a stranger set over them in his place? The Spaniards must be exterminated before such a King could be established upon his throne.

To this Buonaparte replied, that he was assured of the only power which could give him any uneasiness; the Emperor of Russia, to whom he had imparted his plans at Tilsit, having approved of, and given his word not to oppose them. As for the Spaniards themselves, they would make little or no opposition. The nobles and the rich would certainly remain quiet for fear of losing their property, and would exert all their influence to quiet the people. The clergy and the friars, whom he would make responsible for any disorder, would for their own sake, and for the like motives, do the same. The populace might excite tumults here and there, but a few severe chastisements would make them return to their duty. Countries in which there were many friars were easily subdued; ... he had had experience of this: and if the opposition were general, the result must be the same, even if it should be necessary to sacrifice 200,000 men. Escoiquiz made answer, that in that case the new dynasty would be placed upon a volcano; ... 200,000 or 300,000 men would be required to keep the provinces down, and the Monarch would reign in the midst of carcasses and ruins, over a race of indignant slaves, ready upon the slightest occasion to break their chains. And of what utility would such an alliance prove? Spain, ruined, deserted, and deprived of her colonies, would become a burden to France. Buonaparte upon this observed, that the canon was proceeding too fast in taking it for granted that Spain would lose her colonies: he on his part had well-founded hopes of preserving them. “Do not suppose,” said he, “that I have been sleeping. I have communications with Spanish America, and have sent frigates to those coasts to maintain them.” Escoiquiz replied, that America even now was held by no other bond than the slight thread of habit; the least disgust, even under Ferdinand himself, would break the connexion, and beyond all doubt the whole of the colonies would separate themselves from the mother country rather than acknowledge the new dynasty. What too would be the effect of such a measure upon the European powers, and how might England be expected to act? Would not England regard it as the most favourable of all events? would it not at once open the whole commerce of America to her, and with the treasure from thence derived, enable her to purchase all the people of Europe, and arm them against France: and even to stir up domestic movements against the Emperor, which would be yet more perilous, for money was the most powerful of engines? Buonaparte then put an end to the conference by observing that they did not agree in the principles upon which they reasoned; that he would think again upon the matter, and on the morrow communicate his irrevocable determination.

On the morrow accordingly Escoiquiz was again summoned, and the irrevocable determination was announced that the Bourbon dynasty must cease to reign upon the Spanish throne: that if Ferdinand would accede to the proposed exchange, Etruria should be given him; but that if he refused, the King his father would make the cession, Etruria would remain annexed to France, and he would lose all compensation. Escoiquiz, after touching again upon his yesterday’s argument, began to lament the disgrace which would fall upon the advisers of Ferdinand, and especially upon himself as being supposed to have most influence with him. For even, he said, if it should be known that the Prince, before he consulted them, had determined upon this journey, and yielding to the solicitations of the embassador had given his word to set out, the nation would always accuse them for not having dissuaded him from it. Buonaparte seems in these conferences to have considered Escoiquiz not as a statesman, but as a good easy man of letters, whom a little flattery would win to his wishes. He argued with him, therefore, in the same temper as on the preceding day; and giving him another pull by the ear, said to him at last with a smile, “So, then, canon, you will not enter into my ideas.” The canon replied, “On the contrary, I wish with all my heart that your Majesty would enter into mine, ... though it should be at the cost of my ears,”—for the Emperor was pulling there somewhat too forcibly.

But Buonaparte, when he found that Ferdinand was not to be cajoled into the cession, laid by the semblance of these gracious manners, and proceeded in the temper of a tyrant to effect the usurpation which he had begun. Cevallos was now summoned to the palace, to discuss the terms of the renunciation with the French minister for foreign affairs, M. Champagny. The Spaniard assumed a firm and manly tone; he complained of the perfidy which had been practised, protested in Ferdinand’s name against the violence done to his person, in not permitting him to return to Spain; and, as a final answer to the Emperor’s demand, declared that the King neither could nor would renounce his crown; he could not prejudice the individuals of his own family, who were called to the succession by the fundamental laws of the kingdom: still less could he consent to the establishment of another dynasty, it being the right of the Spanish nation to elect another family whenever the present should become extinct.

M. Champagny replied, by insisting on the necessity of the renunciation, and contending that the abdication of the father-king had not been voluntary. Of this assertion, which was as ill-timed as it was irrelevant, Cevallos readily availed himself, expressing his surprise that, while they condemned the abdication of Charles as not having been his own free act, they, at the same time, were endeavouring to extort a renunciation from Ferdinand. He then entered into details designed to prove that no violence had been done to the father-king, either by the people, the prince, or any other person, and that he had retired from government by his own unbiassed will. But Cevallos protested against acknowledging the smallest authority in the Emperor to intermeddle with matters which exclusively belonged to the Spanish government; following, he said, in this respect, the example of the cabinet of Paris, which rejected, as inadmissible, the applications of the King of Spain in behalf of his ally and kinsman Louis XVI. It was of little consequence that Ferdinand’s minister triumphed in argument. M. Champagny abruptly turned the subject, by saying that the Emperor never could be sure of Spain while it was governed by the Bourbon dynasty; for that family must necessarily regret to see its elder branch expelled from France. Cevallos answered, that, in a regular system of things, family prepossessions never prevailed over political interests, of which the whole conduct of Charles IV. since the treaty of Basle was a proof. Every reason of policy induced Spain to maintain a perpetual peace with France, and there were reasons why the continuance of that system was not of less importance to the Emperor. The generosity and loyalty of the Spaniards were proverbial; from that loyalty they had submitted to the caprices of despotism; and the same principle, if they saw their independence and the security of their sovereign violated, would call forth their well-known valour. If so atrocious an insult were committed, France would lose the most faithful and useful of her allies; and the Emperor, by the artifices with which he entrapped the King to Bayonne, in order there to despoil him of his crown, would have so effectually stained his own character, that no confidence hereafter could be placed in treaties with him; and war with him could be concluded by no other means than that of total destruction and extermination.

Buonaparte was listening to this conference. He lost patience now, and ordering Cevallos into his own cabinet, the violence of his temper broke out. He called that minister traitor, for continuing to serve the son in the same situation which he had held under the father; he accused him of having maintained, in an official interview with General Moutheon, that Ferdinand’s right to the crown stood in no need of his recognition, though it might be necessary to the continuance of his relations with France: and he reproached him still more angrily for having said to a foreign minister at Madrid, that, if the French army offered any violation to the integrity and independence of the Spanish sovereignty, 300,000 men would convince them that a brave and generous nation was not to be insulted with impunity. The tyrant then entered upon the business of the renunciation, which he was determined should be made; and finding that Cevallos still insisted upon the rights of his master, the reigning dynasty, and the people of Spain, he concluded the conversation by these remarkable and characteristic words: “I have a system of policy of my own. You ought to adopt more liberal ideas; to be less susceptible on the point of honour; and not sacrifice the prosperity of Spain to the interest of the Bourbon family.”

Having found Cevallos so little inclined to yield, Ferdinand was informed that he must appoint another person to carry on the negotiation. While he was deliberating whom to choose, one of the French agents insinuated himself into the confidence of Escoiquiz, and persuaded him to pay a visit to Champagny, from whom he received the propositions of Buonaparte in writing. These, which were to be considered as the tyrant’s definitive demands, from which he would not recede, and which were the most favourable he would grant, declared his irrevocable determination that the Bourbon dynasty should no longer reign in Spain, and that one of his brothers should possess the throne. The complete integrity of that kingdom and all its colonies was to be guaranteed, together with the preservation of religion and property. If Ferdinand agreed to renounce his rights in his own name, and that of his family, the crown of Etruria should be conferred upon him according to the Salic law; and the Emperor’s niece be given him in marriage immediately, if he chose to demand her, upon the execution of the treaty. If he refused, he should remain without compensation, and the Emperor would carry his purposes into effect by force.

Escoiquiz was of opinion that Ferdinand would do well to yield to a force which he could not resist, and save what he could from the wreck. He argued that it was their business to mitigate the evil as far as possible, saving always the honour of the King and the interests of Spain; and that as Ferdinand was yet but a youth, he might hope, in some of those changes which are incident to human affairs, to regain what he now lost. The cession which was demanded would be palpably invalid, and would not prevent the Spanish nation from making any exertions which their loyalty and spirit might prompt. By accepting Etruria he would secure to himself the kingly title and kingly treatment from Buonaparte; for though he would certainly be detained in France as long as Spain resisted, still it would be with all outward marks of honour; he would be kept like a slave in fetters of gold, not imprisoned in some castle where misery and ill-treatment would put an end to him and his brothers. If Spain should make a successful stand, by the help of England, which might be expected, and perhaps that of other powers also, Etruria would be always something in possession, the exchange of which would facilitate his return to his lawful throne: but if unhappily, after all efforts, Spain should succumb in the strife, her disherited princes would still remain with an honourable and princely asylum. It was moreover especially to be considered, that if Ferdinand refused to treat with the Emperor Napoleon, and cede his rights as King of Spain, the cession would beyond all doubt be made by his father, and Ferdinand would then be dealt with in the character of an undutiful and rebellious son. These arguments did not prevail; the majority of Ferdinand’s advisers, notwithstanding all that had passed, could not be persuaded that Buonaparte meant seriously to depose him; they continued to believe that all these measures were only designed to extort a cession of territory, and that if Ferdinand continued firm in his refusal, he need not sacrifice the provinces on the left of the Ebro, nor even Navarre, but that some of the colonies would suffice. They urged this persuasion so strongly, that Escoiquiz, without altering his own opinion, assented to theirs. But all these discussions were made known to Buonaparte by one of their own number, who was sold to the tyrant.

Ferdinand therefore now invested Don Pedro de Labrador, honorary counsellor of state, in whose talents he had great reliance, with full powers, instructing him to present them to the French minister for foreign affairs, and to demand his full powers in return, that the proposals of Buonaparte might be communicated in an authentic manner. ♦April 27.♦ The instructions given him, which were drawn up by Cevallos, were to ask M. Champagny if King Ferdinand were at full liberty? for if he was, he would return to his dominions, and there give audience to the plenipotentiary whom the Emperor might depute; if he were not, all acts at Bayonne were nugatory, and could have no other effect than to stain the reputation of Buonaparte before the whole world. Ferdinand, he was charged to say, was resolved not to yield to the Emperor’s demands: neither his own honour, nor his duty to his subjects, permitting him. He could not compel them to accept of the Buonaparte dynasty, much less could he deprive them of their right to elect another family to the throne, when the reigning one should be extinct. It was not less repugnant to his feelings to accept of the throne of Etruria as a compensation; that country belonged to its lawful sovereign, whom he would not wrong, and he was contented with the kingdom which providence had given him.

When Labrador presented his powers, and required the usual return, M. Champagny replied, these things were mere matters of form, and wholly unconnected with the essential object of which they were to treat. Buonaparte, indeed, had determined to force from Ferdinand the form of a voluntary renunciation, but he and his ministers considered all other forms as useless. The Frenchman proceeded to talk of the propositions: Labrador declared he could discuss no subject till the previous formalities had been observed; and asked if the King were at liberty? M. Champagny made answer, undoubtedly he was. Then, said the Spaniard, he ought to be restored to his kingdom. But M. Champagny replied, that, with respect to his return, it was necessary he should come to a right understanding with the Emperor, either personally or by letter. Already, Ferdinand had had sufficient reason to feel himself a prisoner; this language was such as could leave no doubt. But that the violence might be apparent and notorious, Cevallos ♦April 28.♦ addressed a note to the French minister of state, saying, that the King had left Madrid with the intention of meeting the Emperor at Burgos, on the assurances which the Grand Duke of Berg, the ambassador Beauharnois, and General Savary, had given of his approach; and that, in consequence of the agitation of the public mind in Spain, it was impossible to answer longer for the tranquillity of the people, especially as they were apprized that their King had now been six days at Bayonne. He had, in the most solemn manner, promised them on his departure that he would speedily return. This, therefore, he was about to do; he now made known his intentions, that they might be communicated to the Emperor, whose approbation they would doubtless meet; and he should be ready to treat, in his dominions, on all convenient subjects, with any person whom it might please his Imperial Majesty to authorize. No answer was returned to this dispatch; but the spies within the palace and the guards without were doubled. A guard at the door even ordered the King and his brother one night to retire to their apartments. Ferdinand’s mind was not yet so subdued to his fortunes as to brook this insult. He complained bitterly of it; and the Governor in consequence soothed him with courteous language, and expressed his disapprobation of such conduct. The act, however, was repeated; and, not choosing to expose himself a third time to insults, which he had no means of resenting, he abstained from going out.

Buonaparte had expected that Ferdinand would more easily be intimidated into compliance; in that case he would have recognized the validity of the father’s abdication; which, in fact, he did virtually acknowledge, while treating with the son for his renunciation. He now found it necessary to alter his plan of proceedings, and ordered Murat to send off Charles and the Queen as expeditiously as possible to Bayonne. There was no danger of exciting any popular commotion by removing them; but the deliverance of Godoy was also to be effected; and artifice must be employed for this, unless he resorted immediately to force, which it was his purpose to avoid till the whole of the royal family were in his hands. The release of the fallen favourite had been requested of Ferdinand during his stay at Vittoria. He replied, that he had promised his people to publish the result of a process, on which the honour of many of his subjects, and the preservation of the rights of the crown, depended. Throughout the whole extent of Spain, he said, there was not a single district, however small, which had not addressed complaints to the throne against that prisoner: the joy at his arrest had been general, and all eyes were fixed upon the proceedings. Nevertheless, he gave his royal word, that, if, after a full examination of the case, Godoy should be condemned to death, he would remit that punishment in consequence of the Emperor’s interposition. At the time when Ferdinand returned this answer to Buonaparte, he received advices from the Junta of government that Murat had required them to release Godoy; threatening, if they refused, to deliver him by force, and put his guards to the sword if they offered the slightest resistance. They were informed, in reply, of the answer which had been sent to Bayonne, and were instructed to tell the Grand Duke, if he renewed his applications, that the business was in treaty between the two sovereigns, and that the result depended exclusively on the decision of the King.

The French have at all times had less public faith than any other nation in Europe; but whether under their old monarchy, their democracy, or the absolute tyranny in which that democracy had its natural end, they have effectually protected their agents and partizans in other countries. Godoy had been the creature of France, and Buonaparte was resolved to save him: he treated, therefore, the letter of Ferdinand with contempt; and, having recourse to direct falsehood, sent information to Murat, that the Prince of Asturias had put the prisoner entirely at his disposal, and ordered him to demand and obtain the surrender of his person. ♦Apr. 20.♦ A note was accordingly delivered to the Junta, in Murat’s name, by General Belliard, demanding the prisoner. This, he said, was only a new proof of the interest which the Emperor took in the welfare of Spain; for his Imperial Majesty could not recognize as King any other than Charles IV.; and, by removing the Prince of the Peace, he wished to deprive malevolence itself of the possible belief, that that monarch would ever restore him to confidence and power. One member of the government, Don Francisco Gil, protested against yielding to the demand, because it was not authorized by Ferdinand their King: the others deemed it wiser to submit, and the Infante D. Antonio declared, that it depended upon their compliance in this point whether his nephew should be King of Spain. ♦Memoria de Azanza y O’Farrel, p. 25.♦ The Marquis de Castellar, therefore, to whose custody Godoy had been committed, was instructed to deliver him up, and he was removed by night. Had the people been aware that this minister was thus to be conveyed away from their vengeance, that indignation which soon afterwards burst out would probably have manifested itself now, and Godoy would have perished by their hands. He was immediately sent under a strong escort to Bayonne.