Iberia Won 40

Iberia Won 40

 “Our rights and liberties to guard,

“We make thee King and Lord,

“To be allowed our Fuéros proud;

“If not--then No’s the word!”

 

 

9.

 

And still when San Sebastian ran

To take the King to task,

Or treat with him for life or limb,

He doffed him to the Basque!

 

 

 

 

HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES TO CANTO VII.

 

 

For the incidents connected with Napoléon’s invasion of Portugal

and Spain, and for the state of both monarchies at that period,

the reader is referred to Napier’s and Southey’s Histories of the

Peninsular War, and (with the necessary caution in the perusal) to

Thiers’s _Histoire du Consulat et de l’Empire_. I have endeavoured

to adhere as closely to historical truth as the nature of poetical

composition would permit. My residence in both Peninsular

countries, since they were visited either by Southey or Napier, has

enabled me to add some additional particulars, derived from sources

exhibited of late years, which tend to throw fresh light upon these

transactions.

 

The Emperor commenced with the invasion of Portugal, for various

reasons, of which the chief was probably that, as there was no

family alliance between France and Portugal, as between France

and Spain, an injustice done to the former country would be less

shocking and startling to the common feelings of mankind. That

Napoléon himself regarded an invasion of Spain in that light is

evident from a remarkable __EXPRESSION__ which he used in conversation

with his aide-de-camp, Savary:--“I am always afraid of a change

of which I do not see the scope: the best plan of all would be to

avoid a war with Spain, it would be a kind of _Sacrilege_ (he used

the __EXPRESSION__); but I shall not shrink from making it.”--Thiers,

_Histoire du Consulat et de l’Empire_.

 

When Junot entered Lisbon, the old Queen of Portugal was mad, and

the Prince Regent possessed no vigour of character to supply the

sovereign’s intellectual deficiencies. These were supposed to be

in great measure chargeable upon the superstitious terrors with

which her head had been filled by Dom José Maria de Mello, Bishop

of Algarve and Grand Inquisitor of the Kingdom. Influenced partly

by fear of Junot, and partly by the popular discontent with the

fugitive government, (for the entire Royal family and Court of

Portugal fled to Brazil the moment it was ascertained that Junot

was on his march close to Lisbon, and left the poor miserable

country to shift for itself,) the principal ecclesiastics of the

kingdom, with a subserviency too characteristic of that order

in every country, worshipped the rising sun, and lavished their

despicable incense upon Junot and Napoléon. Cardinal Mendoza,

the Patriarch of Lisbon, issued a pastoral sounding the praises

of “the man whom past ages had been unable to divine, the man of

prodigies, the Great Emperor whom God had called to establish the

happiness of nations!” At the voice of this reverend Prince of

the Church, the bishops and clergy, and in imitation of them the

civil magistrates, recommended it to the faithful and to the people

generally, as a binding civil and religious obligation, to receive

the French cordially and pay obedience to their General. This

language was especially noticeable in the mouth of the Inquisitor

General, since he had always been heard to profess principles of

the most diametrically opposite character. Against the “impious

revolutionists” of France he had been the first to fulminate his

censures. He had sought to re-establish _autos-da-fé_, in all

their original bloody ferocity, under the reign of his august but

crazy penitent. And at the commencement of the revolution he had

seriously proposed the excommunication of the French nation _en

masse_ by the dignified clergy of Portugal.

 

The concentration of Junot’s troops around Lisbon made the

reception of the French _régime_ a matter of little difficulty.

But it is not a little curious that the voice of old prophecy was

made to contribute to the same result. The Nostradamus of Portugal,

Bandarra, had predicted these changes as conformable to the will of

God, and the triumph of the imperial eagle of Napoléon might be

read in his prophetic quatrains. Curiously illustrative are these

details of the character of a people of whom it has (with some

exaggeration) been said that one half are waiting for the coming

of Dom Sebastian, and the other half for that of the Messiah. The

prophecy of Bandarra struck the nation with astonishment, and for

a time they regarded it as literally fulfilled. The closeness of

realization was certainly astounding. Gonzalo Annes Bandarra was a

poor cobbler of Trancoso in the district of Guarda, who composed

about the year 1540 some prophecies which have ever since obtained

great reputation in the country, amongst all classes. His _trovas_

or _redondilhas_ (rhymed quatrains) have been printed several

times, and in 1809 an edition was published at Barcelona. When the

French entered Lisbon in 1807, the event was found by the believers

in prophecy to be not only clearly predicted in Bandarra, but the

Imperial power to be precisely indicated, and the first letter of

the name of Napoléon, in the 17th and 18th quatrains of the third

prophetic dream, which are as follows:--

 

“Ergue-se a Aguia imperial

Com os seus filhos ao rabo,

E com as unhas no cabo

Faz o ninho em Portugal.

Poe um A pernas acima,

Tira--lhe a risca do meio,

E por detraz lha arrima,

Saberas quern te nomeio.”

 

“The Imperial Eagle rises, with his children at his tail, and with

his claws before him makes his nest in Portugal. Put an A with

its legs upside down; take away its middle bar, and put this bar

behind it. You will know him I name.” The coarseness of the wording

belongs to the era and to the popular literature of Portugal

generally. The N and the imperial eagle are made out perfectly. The

coincidence does not quite convince, but in the words of the hero

of the Gridiron story, “it is mighty remarkable!”

 

Junot proceeded to depose the Royal House of Portugal with the

coolest unconcern, and from the old Palace of the Inquisition,

where he established his Intendance Générale, and upon whose

ruins the new National Theatre has just been raised, he issued a

proclamation declaring that “the dynasty of Braganza had ceased

in Portugal!” Meanwhile Solano, a creature of Godoy’s, who had

accompanied Junot to Lisbon, was active on behalf of his infamous

master, whose obscure birth-place I lately saw at Badajoz, and

substituted in several public acts the name of the King of Spain

for that of the Prince Regent of Portugal. He created a Chief

Judge and a Superintendent of Finances, and both employments

were conferred upon Castilian subjects. Solano was the intimate

confident of the Prince of the Peace, and it is believed that it

was not without superior orders that he proceeded in these hasty

innovations. The future Sovereign of the Algarves, as designated

in the secret treaty with Napoléon, was so impatient to reign on

his own account that, if the reports which prevailed at the period

are to be believed, dollars were struck at the Madrid mint, bearing

upon one side the head of Godoy with the legend _Emmanuel primus

Algarviorum dux_, and on the other the ancient arms of the kingdom

of Algarve.

 

Shortly after his arrival Junot proceeded, as he phrased it,

“inaugurer avec éclat à Lisbonne le drapeau tricolore français.”

The Portuguese had previously received them as friends: this

outrage opened their eyes. It was on a Sunday; 6,000 men of all

arms were assembled in the great square of the Rocio, to be

reviewed by the General. Mid-day sounded. A salvo of artillery

resounded from the Castle of St. George, originally built by the

Moors. Every eye was turned towards these ancient walls, which

topple over the city somewhat like the Calton Hill at Edinburgh.

In an instant was seen to fall the standard of Portugal which

floated before on the loftiest tower of the Castle, while its

place was taken in another instant by a foreign flag surmounted

by the imperial eagle! To describe the outraged feelings of the

Portuguese, to paint their indignation and horror, is impossible.

Their loyalty and their national pride are almost the only virtues

which they retain. Their southern hatred was excited to terrific

intensity. Conceive what would be the feelings of veteran warriors,

who have dragged out the remnant of an existence spared by the

missiles and casualties of war, to see the flag beneath which

their blood has flowed insulted by its enemies. Some idea may

then be formed of the grief and rage which took possession of the

people of Lisbon. A torrent of bitterness deluged their souls. The

sacred standard which was thus supplanted was consecrated alike

by religious feelings and by secular remembrances of glory. It

had been given, according to popular belief, by Christ himself to

Afonso Henriques, the founder of the Monarchy, impressed by the

Redeemer with the marks of his Passion, for the five shields of the

conquered Moorish kings displayed on the Quinas were likewise said

to be typical of the Sacred Wounds, and with this other _labarum_

their new Constantine had been told to “go forth and conquer.”

“_Death to the French!_” was soon the cry, but the cannon and

paraded soldiery of Junot suppressed the insurrectionary movement.

 

The earthquake, stated in the text to have occurred at the period

of the French entry into Lisbon, is strictly historical. “Le

lendemain de l’entrée des Français on éprouva dans Lisbonne une

légère secousse de tremblement de terre, qui fit monter la mer

sur les quais.” (Foy, _Hist. Guerre. Pénins._ liv. ii.) Junot

wrote thus impiously concerning this event to the Minister of War,

Clarke. “Les dieux sont pour nous; j’en tiens l’augure de ce, que

le tremblement de terre ne nous a annoncé que leur puissance sans

nous faire de mal!”

 

Napoléon’s treatment of Spain was not characterized by the same

daring recklessness, but by what must be regarded as unprincipled

profligacy. One of his own generals, Baron Foy, calls the Spanish

invasion “une traîtreuse usurpation.”--_Hist. Guerre. Pénins._ liv.

ii.

 

A Spanish army entered Portugal under Junot in 1807, with absurd

and astounding ignorance mistaking the English for enemies,

and the French for friends, to both Peninsular countries. The

Marquis del Socorro, who commanded this army, was the tool of the

infamous Godoy and the French, and it is thus he spoke of us in the

proclamation which he issued at Oporto. He declared his object to

be “de vous délivrer de la perfide domination et de la politique

ambitieuse des Anglais. * * Tous ensemble, nous vengerons les

outrages que la férocité traîtresse des Anglais a faits à toutes

les nations de l’Europe!”--Foy, _Histoire Guerre. Pénins._ liv. ii.

_pièces justificatives_.

 

The unsuspected testimony of Foy leaves the fearful iniquity of

Napoléon’s seizure of the principal fortresses of Spain beyond

dispute. “Il y eut,” says he, “dans les moyens par lesquels on

s’en rendit maître, un mélange de l’astuce des faibles et de

l’arrogance des forts. On n’employa que la ruse pour Pampelune

et Saint-Sébastien.” (liv. iii.) The following is his detailed

account of the seizure of these several fortresses:--The castle

of Montjuic at Barcelona was too difficult of approach for the

troops to reach it without being perceived. Duhesme went to the

Count d’Ezpeleta, Captain-General of the province: “My soldiers

occupy your citadel,” said he. “Open to me this instant the gates

of Montjuic; for the Emperor Napoléon has ordered me to place a

garrison in your fortresses. If you hesitate, I declare war against

Spain, and you will be responsible for the torrents of blood which

your resistance will have caused to flow.” The name of Napoléon

produced its accustomed effect. The Spanish General was aged and

timid, and the only instruction which his government had given him

was to avoid taking any step which might embroil them with France.

He resigned the keys of Montjuic, and General Duhesme became master

of Catalonia. Thus fell without striking a blow, into the power

of France, the largest city of the Spanish monarchy--a city which

a century before had struggled single-handed, after all Spain had

submitted, against the power of Louis XIV.