MARIA CRISTINA, FERDINAND’S FOURTH WIFE—INTRIGUES AT COURT

1829–1832

On May 17, 1829, Queen Maria Amalia passed away. She was a most virtuous and conscientious lady, and had she realized that the duties of a Queen were not synonymous with those of an Abbess, the King and the country would have been more benefited by her irreproachable life. The atmosphere of the convent hung always about her, and when not engaged in working for the poor she was occupied with her devotions.

When the King wished to walk with the Queen, he generally had to wait till some sewing for the poor was completed; and in all the dissensions between the King and his subjects his wife would sit silently weeping or praying, but never try to understand anything about the struggle between despotism and constitutionalism, which was tearing the realm asunder. Moreover, Maria Amalia left the field free for the presumptuous, frivolous women of the Court, when she decided never to go to any theatre nor to allow any balls or parties at the palace.

A drive in the Retiro or the Prado was the only relaxation the royal lady permitted herself, and it was there that the Portuguese Princess, Maria Francisca de Braganza, the wife of Don Carlos, also took her daily airing in a beautiful carriage drawn by six mules. The Princess of Naples, Princess Luisa Carlota, wife of the Infante Don Francisco, had long felt herself slighted by this haughty Princess, and by her sister, the Princess de Beira, widow of the Infante Don Pedro, and after the death of Queen Maria Amalia she determined to mature a plan by which her position at Court would be improved. For, knowing the susceptible nature of Ferdinand, and that his obstinate nature was weak and yielding where the fair sex was concerned, his sister-in-law determined that this susceptibility should be turned to account in the person of her sister, Maria Cristina. The position of Luisa Carlota had, moreover, always been somewhat ambiguous, from the open secret of the relation of her husband with Godoy; and as this Prince and Princess always thus felt themselves somewhat alien from the rest of the Royal Family, they were strongly in favour of the Liberal party, which was in direct opposition to Don Carlos, his wife, and the widowed Portuguese Princess.

Thus, intrigue and enmity reigned between the two parties, and Luisa Carlota could hardly conceal her triumphant feeling when, on showing the King the portrait of her beautiful sister, she saw that his face expressed admiration for the bonny girl, who was daughter of Francis I. of Naples, the brother of his first wife, and therefore his niece by marriage; and on December 11, 1829, the beautiful young Princess made her formal entry into Madrid as the bride of the King.

When the Princess arrived at Aranjuez with her parents, she was received by the Infantes Francisco de Paula and Don Carlos, and so the first formal words of welcome in the name of the King were addressed to the bride by him who afterwards became her most bitter enemy and rival.

The impression made upon the Spanish people by the Italian Princess during her journey from Barcelona to the capital was favourable. Her beauty and youth appealed strongly to the susceptible Spaniards, and her kindness of heart was seen in her suggestion that the soldiers should put their cloaks on in the inclement weather; and on the day of her triumphal entry into Madrid as their Queen, with the King at the right side of her carriage and the Infantas on the left, the people went wild with joy at what they considered as the dawn of a new era for the realm. It was soon evident that the young Queen had great influence over her husband. Unlike her predecessor on the throne, Maria Cristina loved to take an active part in the affairs of the realm; and Don Carlos, who had always had ascendancy over Ferdinand, found that his position in the confidence of his brother was gradually on the wane.

The beautiful Princess tempered Ferdinand’s fury against those who had revolted against him, and her gentle words and calm counsel were a beneficent antidote to the advice of Calomarde and the Bishop of Leon.

As the influence of Maria Cristina increased, the power of the Portuguese Princesses was lessened, and the enmity of the parties became more and more marked.

When it was evident that an heir to the throne might be expected, Don Carlos and his wife placed all their hopes on the chance of it being a girl, for in that case he laid claim to be heir to the throne by virtue of the Salic Law of Philip IV. Although Charles IV. had privately abrogated this law, Don Carlos still considered that his right was valid, as he was born in 1788, a year before its abrogation.

The power of the Queen over the King was still more marked after the birth of their little daughter on October 10, 1830. As heiress to the throne, Ferdinand commanded the same honours to be accorded the infant Princess as were customary to be given to a Prince of Asturias. With fresh hopes for the future of his family, the King turned his thoughts to more liberal forms of Government than he had ever before entertained. By an autograph letter he decreed the establishment of a Liberal Ministry. But Calomarde and the Bishop played on the King’s natural vacillation and cowardice to persuade him that the Liberals would abuse the power against the throne.

Gout meanwhile made great inroads in the health of the King. One attack followed another, until it became evident that the King’s life would not be a long one. In view of her unsettled position, Queen Cristina determined to ingratiate herself with the army, and to this end she celebrated the completion of Isabel’s first year by bestowing on different companies of the soldiers banners worked by her own hands.

The ceremony took place in the historic Hall of Columns in the Palace of Madrid, and as the Queen graciously handed her beautiful work to the Generals, she said: “On a day so dear to my heart I wished to give you a proof of my affection by placing these banners in your hands, which I trust they will never leave. And I am quite persuaded that you will always know how to defend them with the valour which is proper to the Spanish character, sustaining the rights of your King, Ferdinand VII., my very dear husband, and of his descendants.” A public proclamation to the army expressed the same sentiments, and the bestowal of the gifts received wide appreciation.

However, the intrigues in the palace grew apace, and one of the most constant companions of the Queen was Teresita, a dressmaker, who was raised to such a high position of favour that even Ministers asked her intervention with Her Majesty for the introduction of people of such high degree as grandees of Spain, etc. As Maria Cristina’s influence increased, she managed to get rid of the Portuguese Princess de Beira, under the pretext that her brother required her in her native land.

After the birth of a second little Princess, the King was with his wife at La Granja, when he fell dangerously ill. The Infante Don Francisco and his wife were in Andalusia, and Don Carlos with the Princess of Beira; Don Sebastian and Doña Amalia were at the palace with the King.

The attack of illness, which commenced on September 13, became so serious that his life was despaired of. It was then that Cristina showed her true wifely affection. Dressed in the costume of Señora del Carmen, the royal lady was a constant and indefatigable attendant on the patient. It was from her hands alone that he received his medicines, and it was she who administered all the means of alleviating his sufferings. Ferdinand seemed to cling to his wife during this terrible time, and to her he confided his distress at the thought of leaving her a widow with the orphaned Princesses.

Indeed, distress of mind added so much to his physical sufferings that Cristina sent for Calomarde to see what he could do to calm his master. Calomarde gladly profited by the permission to enter the royal apartment, for the Infantas were refused admittance.

When the King, between the fits of exhaustion that followed the attacks of pain, explained to his Minister with great difficulty the ground of his anxiety, Calomarde perfidiously expressed his opinion that, in the event of his Majesty’s demise, the kingdom would declare in favour of Don Carlos, and that the only means of saving the crown for his daughter would be to associate his brother in the Government. It was, indeed, suggested that the Queen was to be authorized to despatch business during his illness, but it was to be with the help and advice of the Prince.

The Bishop of Leon was then called into the King’s chamber to give his opinion, and he echoed the advice of the Minister.

In the meanwhile the apartments of Don Carlos were a hotbed of intrigue. “Now or never” was the feeling of the Pretender to the throne, and self-interested people came and went in constant consultation with the Prince, and to bring news of the condition of the King. The Portuguese Princesses were keen and intent on all that went on, whilst their faces betrayed their anxiety. When the Count of Alcudia appeared with the King’s decree, Don Carlos definitively declined to share any duties of government with the Queen, and on the departure of the messenger the Infante again reverted to his silent and thoughtful attitude.

The Count soon reappeared with a new decree, to the effect that Don Carlos, in company with Cristina, should be appointed guardian of the Infanta Isabel. To this Don Carlos also gave a haughty refusal, saying that he could not thus resign the legitimate rights which God gave him at his birth; and with these words he closed the door to all negotiations for recognition of the little Princess’s right to the throne. So the King was again a prey to anxiety, and the Bishop of Leon and Calomarde so worked on Cristina’s nerves in their accounts of the horrors that would beset the country under the civil war, which was imminent with little Isabel as Queen, that, at her wits’ end to know what to do, the poor lady finally exclaimed: “Only let Spain be happy and tranquil with the benefits of peace and order!” And in this overwrought state she herself besought the King to revoke the Salic Law. So the deed was done, and the King commanded a codicil to be drawn up, declaring that he had made this supreme sacrifice for the tranquillity and peace of the kingdom, but the fact was to be kept secret until after his death.

This moment seemed to follow very quickly on the portentous deed; for Ferdinand fell into a lethargy which was believed to be death, for he lay without any signs of life, and all efforts of the doctors to revive him were useless.

Poor Cristina put her hand to her husband’s heart, and even as she failed to detect any movement, and thought she was a dethroned widow, she saw Calomarde, the Bishop of Leon, and all the other councillors, leave the room without a word of sympathy or an offer of help. That moment taught the Queen more of the worthlessness of friends of the camarilla type than she could have believed possible. The sight of those men leaving her in that callous way, alone with her supposed-to-be-dead husband, showed her that Madrid would be no place for her and her little children were Don Carlos on the throne.

So, with tears pouring down her face, Cristina at once began to collect her jewels and make ready for her departure, whilst her brother-in-law was already addressed as “His Majesty” in the antechamber, and the Portuguese Princesses embraced each other with joy at the success of their plans.

But two unexpected events happened which put a check to the triumph of the Carlist party—the King showed signs of life, and the Infantas Don Francisco and Doña Luisa Carlota suddenly arrived from Andalusia. A few minutes’ conversation with her sister put Luisa Carlota in possession of the whole story.

After reproaching Cristina for the weakness which had led her to sacrifice her daughter’s throne to the intrigues of the Infantas, the Princess sent for Calomarde, and a terrible scene took place. She upbraided the Minister for the treacherous way he had played into the hands of the Queen’s enemy, and had abandoned her in time of need; and when he sought to justify himself, she gave way to such fury that she struck him on the face.

For a moment the Princess seemed shocked at her own loss of temper, but Calomarde’s courtier-like remark, that “white hands offend not,” showed that no further resentment on his part would be shown. In the meanwhile, as the King was supposed to be dead, the secret societies noised abroad the news of the Revocation of the Pragmatic Sanction, and Don José O’Donnell sent a secret circular to the authorities and persons of the places in favour of Don Carlos.

In fact, albeit after September 28 immediate anxiety about the King’s life was past, Maria Cristina felt that she was on the brink of a revolution.

It was due to the magnanimity and kind-hearted nature of the Queen that the King at this time finally signed the decree which buried the hatchet of the revolution in Seville, and allowed all people to return to their native land; and it was by this deed that the beautiful young Queen gained a surer hold on the hearts of her subjects.

Cristina was, moreover, relieved from the presence of Calomarde on the recovery of the King, for, as he could no longer expect the favour or confidence of his Sovereigns, he left Spain for France, and there remained until the day of his death.

It was on October 19 that Ferdinand and Cristina returned to the capital after all the events which had so surely sifted true friends from false flatterers. The atmosphere seemed clearer; the King saw that it was necessary to make Cristina Regent during his daughter’s minority, and with this triumph of her authority Cristina wore the bright and joyous look of a tender wife, a loving mother, a heroic Queen, and the liberator of Spain.

Ferdinand was certainly a wreck after his severe illness. As Don Carlos said, “he was more a corpse than a man”; but he was alive, and, after that terrible moment when Cristina had thought she was alone and unprotected with the dead body of her husband, the fact of his being by her side gave her a sense of protection.

The entry of the Sovereigns into Madrid was followed by a manifesto from the Queen, in which she set forth her love to Spain, and a declaration was published by the King, in which he annulled the codicil which would have abrogated the Pragmatic Sanction. After stating the facts of the Pragmatic Sanction, the King said:

Ferdinand’s feeling for his wife was shown in the public letter of gratitude which was published soon after his return to Madrid. It ran thus:

In another decree the King commanded a medal to be struck in commemoration of the actions with which the Queen had immortalized his name.

It was indeed an affecting sight to see the way in which the King clung to his domestic happiness at the decline of his life. Seated in his large gilded chair, he smiled with pleasure at his children, and he followed every movement of his wife with eyes in which love and gratitude were evident. In the light of this love the cruel and self-interested influence of the camarilla was weakened. His nervous nature found repose in the firm counsels of Cristina, and, with the confidence with which she inspired him, he had no need to resort to the duplicity which is so often born of distrust.

But a secret power was at work in the provinces, where the Bishop of Leon sought to work the people up in favour of the Carlists, whilst pretending devotion to the King. “What name can be so sweet to me as the monarch’s?” he said—“a monarch to whom I owe all, and from whom I have received confidences in matters of grave importance which I cannot reveal, and therefore I know how much he desires the order and tranquillity of his people.”

When the time drew near for the administration of the oath to Isabel as heir to the throne, Ferdinand sent a letter to Don Carlos to ask if it was his intention to attend the ceremony or not. To this question the Infante replied that his conscience and his honour would not permit him to be present at the function, as he could not resign his legitimate rights to the throne in the event of his brother dying without a male heir. God had given him these rights at his birth, and he hoped his brother would explain the reason of his absence to the other Sovereigns at the ceremony.

To this communication Ferdinand replied:

It was thus that Don Carlos made himself an exile, and the two brothers, who had always been together in the many vicissitudes of their lives, were now parted for ever.

To the King in his declining days it was doubtless a grief to be so separated from one with whom he had always shared his thoughts, and on whom he had so much depended. The companionship of Don Carlos during his years of enforced residence at Valençay had saved him being forlorn. However, the bright and cheerful society of Cristina during these days, when the letters of Don Carlos showed how irreparable was the breach between the brothers, was a great solace to the King.

The Queen was always energetic, bright, and busy. The painting of “Cupid and Psyche” by her own hand, given to the Academy of San Fernando, showed her talent for art; and her interest in literature was seen in her asking Ferdinand to have a bust of Cervantes placed on the front of the house of the great author. Moreover, the School of Music owed its foundation to the same royal patroness.

The ceremony of the administration of the oath to Isabel, as heir to the throne, finally took place with all the pomp and ceremony for which the Court of Spain is so famous. The King and Queen stayed the night preceding the function at the house called San Juan, in the Buen Retiro, and from thence they proceeded in state to the same Church of San Geronimo where Ferdinand himself received the oath of allegiance in 1833, and where our Princess Ena became the bride of Alfonso XIII. Gentiles hombres, grandees, and generals, made a brilliant procession. Then came the Infantes Don Francisco and Don Sebastian, followed by Their Majesties, walking on either side of the heir-apparent, Princess Isabel, who was carried in the arms of a lady-in-waiting. The procession concluded with the Ambassadors and Chamberlains, and the Royal Guard playing the national air.

The Patriarch of the Indias was seated in front of the high-altar to receive the oath, which was read aloud by a Camarista de Castilla.

The Infantes came in turn to the altar, where they knelt and repeated the words of allegiance. Then they each kissed the hand of His Majesty, who threw his arms round their necks; and they then kissed the hands of the Queen and the Princess, and returned to their seats. The same order of procedure was then followed by the other Infantes, Cardinals, Archbishops and Bishops, grandees and dignitaries; and, the ceremony over, the city was gay with fêtes.

A long correspondence then took place between the royal brothers, when Don Carlos declined to leave the Peninsula.

As Don Carlos was favoured by the Jesuits of Spain, the plots of the party were incessant; and in the palace itself the intrigues of the party were seen in the Royal Guard.

It was on July 29 that Ferdinand died. He had been left alone with the Queen to rest, when he was seized with a sudden attack of apoplexy. As the death was so sudden, the Queen, remembering the recent occasion when the alarm was false, said she would not have the body touched for forty-eight hours.

At last the poor King was laid in state in the Salon of the Ambassadors, and the funeral took place at the Escorial.

“Señor! Señor! Señor!” cried the Duke of Alagon, the Captain of the Guards of the Royal Person; and as the solemn silence following these cries was unbroken, the Captain said, “As you do not reply, señor, you are really dead,” and then broke his wand of office and placed it at the foot of the table on which lay the remains of his royal master.