The National Episodes: Spain in the 19th Century

This is my first effort here. I usually have not the time, so updates may be scarce. And, of course, all comments will be very welcome.

[Café de Levante, calle del Arenal, Saturday, July, 7, 1869]

Outside the sun was raging and the dust from the construction in the nearby Puerta del Sol was hanging everywhere, but somehow the Café de Levante was half full even at midday. Madrileños can ignore or even hate coffee, but all of them love conversation and gossip with a passion, and cafés were the place to find it. The week was closing and young and old were entrenched behind their wide open newspapers, waiting for any comment about "oh, what a day" to flood them with a barrage of opinions about anything, from the weather of yesteryear to the situation in the Mississippi. All that news were to be received with a muted face of mild concern, like you were struggling to not openly disagree; even if you didn’t. Enthusiast agreement was not allowed, even frowned upon. We were in a polite venue.

At this time, even the most adept conversators are starting to fold their newspapers and ask for a vaso de agua fría to start the way home. Not the Old Man. He was where he always were (nobody dared to take his strategically situated table in the corner farther to the window) reading from his pile of newspapers. He never spoke except if asked to, and that was more rare every day. Was he disgraced? Who knew exactly. The whims of politics were strange and nobody was brave enough to ask the men at the Palace. Nobody was brave enough to ask the Old Man, either.

That’s why when a young man with a slightly grubby moustache respectfully got close to the table of the Old Man, he looked up with a strangely puzzled face.

- ¿Qué quiere usted?
- Sir, can I have a moment with you?

The accent of the young man piqued his curiosity. He made a gesture with his head to tell the foreigner to sit in front of him.

- Thank you, sir. My name is Benito Pérez. I’m a writer.

Ah, him. He has read him in a few newspapers, and with gusto, but he was not to let him to know that, was he?

- Ah, yes. You write in La Nación, don’t you?
- And in El Universal, and El Globo, and in some newspapers in the provinces.
- You have an strange accent. Are you an American?
- Canarian, sir. From the Big Island.
- I see… Yes, I almost don’t read literature in newspapers anymore. Just droning on and on about ancient cathedrals, and the greening fields of the Asturias, and about how textile shops smell…

The young Pérez stiffened up and the Old Man felt maybe that was too much for the youngster. But the intruder was still there, so he mellowed a bit and said, with a little smile:

- Oh, not that I am a romantic, either. I’m just more… direct. How can I help you?
- Sir – said Pérez, still weary – I am writing a novel; a serial novel, about the history of Spain, from the battle of Trafalgar until the present days. There will be a series of episodes: the National Episodes. And, as you lived through…

The Old Man stopped him and considered it for a while.

- That’s a noble task, mr. Pérez. How old are you?
- I’m not young anymore, sir. I’m twenty-six.
- Well, indeed. I was twenty-one when… Oh, not here. Let’s do something. Please come to my house on Tuesday, at four. After the siesta. I will help you, mr. Pérez. But do not expect any ruffles and flourishes. I will tell everything I can remember to you… as it happened.

[As published in La Correspondencia de España, March, 12, 1877]

“We liked Bretón’s play very much, and we wanted to say him so after the bolero, but seconds after Castillo y Camprubí started to dance, the buzz within the boxes grew to become a nervous parley. Then we looked to the stage and we saw the alcayde, apoplexically red, with a paper in his hands. “Ladies and gentleman, honorable public. I have the happiest news. Her Majesty the Queen, God save her, gave forth this evening a healthy prince[1]!”.
The parley in the boxes stopped. It seemed to me that I could hear from there every click in every head, even don Benigno’s, asking themselves what that meant and what was going to be the future of Spain. Then, suddenly, a full bodied, heavily-Madrileño-accent voice bolted from the cheapest seats: “LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE THE PRINCE! LONG LIVE SPAIN!”. And, as one, the Teatro del Príncipe cheered the news. But that mistrust lingered on”.

(Benito Pérez Galdós, Episodios Nacionales: Un Príncipe en la undécima hora)




[1] Here is the POD. The second daughter of María Cristina de Borbón and Fernando VII is a boy, so the later conundrums about succession are pretty much ironed out. But things will evolve differently...
 
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So, then, a prince after all

[From Richard Alamos, The New Old World: Europe in the 19th Century, Oxford University Press, 11th edition, 2016]

"Doted with a cumbersome name, Carlos Fernando Felipe Augusto Doroteo de Todos los Santos de Borbón y Borbón [1] was, simply put, the last effort of his father Fernando VII. Even relatively young (his was only 47 when his first son was born), a life full of food, drink and tobacco excesses had prematurely aged the King of Spain [2]. So, when only four months after the birth of his son a serious bout of the gout forced the King to retire to the milder climate of the Palace of la Granja, the country realized that the (alleged) end of the political uncertainty represented by the birth of Prince Carlos was not to be.

That was because even his own ambitions to the throne were thwarted by the birth of a prince (the Pragmática made moot by it [3]), the Infante Carlos [4] saw an oportunity for himself in the person of the newborn prince. Because, if the King died with his son still a minor (and everybody took that possibility as certain) a Regency would follow. And only him, as Regent, could stop the arrival to Spain of the European renaissance of liberalism after the July Revolution in France. So he positioned himself (with the help of the minister for Grace and Justice, Tadeo Calomarde [5]) with that goal. Only one person in the Court could stop him: the Queen..."

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[1] Long, cumbersome names are a tradition of the Spanish Royal Court, much so for such a desired heir for such a conservative king. Carlos, Fernando, Felipe, are quite obvious choices; Augusto is the name of the grandfather of the King, Augustus III of Saxony, and Doroteo is the saint of the day.

[2] IOTL, he would die the next year. ITTL, as a male heir makes him a happier man, I gave him about ten or eleven more months to live. Not more children, though.

[3] In 1830, the King decreed (with a Pragmática Sanción, a royal decree) that women can inherit the Spanish crown directly. The validity of that law was the origin of the First Carlist War. Here, it doesn't matter anymore.

[4] The archconservative brother of the King.

[5] IOTL, Calomarde was the force behind the brief abolition of the Pragmática.
 
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A great schemer, that Infante Carlos was. I wonder what he'll do now that the easy way to gain power (against a female heir/queen) is out?
 
[As published in La Correspondencia de España, April, 10, 1877]

"The minister leaned out, looking for what he was asked for. Meanwhile all those who had not stated themselves very clearly as supporters of the Infante gathered in the room. Standing and moving constantly from one place to another, proud, nervous, breathing hard, Doña Carlota seemed to be imagining cruelties and violence unproper of women and princesses. None of the presents spoke nothing to her, and even Cristina, with glowing eyes and beating chest, fell silent with the proud, so proud attitude of this new Semiramis, her sister.

When Calomarde gave the manuscript to the Infanta, the manuscript that so many sleepless nights had costed to the Apostolics, Carlota took it at once and tore it furiously into many pieces. With the same contempt and anger which she threw down the pieces of paper, she threw on the person of the minister these harsh words, which are not usually heard on lips of princes:

- See what these outrages have brought forth. You have deceived, you have surprised His Majesty abusing His dying state; you, using the means employed for this betrayal, have acted as your usual: meanness, duplicity, hypocrisy".

Red as a poppy, if we can allow ourselves to compare the red cheeks of a minister to the beauty of a peasant flower, Calomarde lowered his eyes. That furious humiliation of the petty tyrant was enough to compensate his nine years of insolent power. In his cowardice, he wanted to humble himself more and stammered a few words:

- Ma'am ... I ...

- Shut up! - said the Bourbon Semiramis in the exaltation of her anger - you still dare to defend yourself and insult us with your presence and your words. Get out immediately.

Blind with rage, in a snatch of her impetuous gallantry, the Infanta walked a few steps toward His Excellency, raised her strong arm, fired the beefy hand ... Splat! On the cheeks of the minister echoed the sovereignest slap ever given.

All of us were pale and filled of suspense, and I can say us, because the narrator was fortunate enought to witness this great event. Calomarde's took his hand to the sore cheek, and pale, sweaty, with a dead and drowned accent he said:

- Ma'am, white hands ...

He said no more. The Infanta turned away and left".

(Benito Pérez Galdós, Episodios Nacionales: Un príncipe en la undécima hora[1])

[From Richard Alamos, The New Old World: Europe in the 19th Century, Oxford University Press, 11th edition, 2016]

"The Events in Aranjuez [2](as these days in the last two weeks of March 1833 would be known) introduced an element of uncertainty in the succession. The King signed a decree giving the regency to Carlos in the event of his death, but it was never published in the Gaceta[3]; the Carlist press in Madrid, though, distributed copies lavishly[4].

When he recovered, the 2nd of April, Fernando, outraged with what he called "bitter treachery" of his brother, exiled Carlos to Portugal, where he gathered his followers[5]. Calomarde was purged and Cea Bermúdez, a moderate absolutist, became First Secretary of the Cabinet[6].

The first measure of Cea was to ask the King for a decree defining the succession rules and confirming María Cristina as Regent to dispel all doubts; Fernando duly did so [7]. Cea, knowing that he would have no support from the ultramontane entourage of Carlos, looked for support in the until then banned liberals [8]. In July, an amnesty allowed the return of many exiles, and in August a decree reopened the universities[9]. It was a risky bet, but many liberals also saw hope in young Prince Carlos. Anything, absolutely anything, would be better than Fernando -and everybody knew that the end of the hated King was at hand. But still, the Infante had his supporters in Madrid...

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[1] Same text as in OTL Los Apostólicos. Why not?

[2] IOTL, they were at La Granja, on late September 1832. Here, the King is (relatively) healthier.

[3] IOTL, the King signed a decree abrogating the Pragmática and making Carlos his heir again. The rest is as in OTL.

[4] As in OTL.

[5] IOTL, the Infante stayed in Madrid until March 1833, when he refused to swear his recognition of Isabel as Princess of Asturias and heiress to the Throne. Here, the point of Carlos is even weaker than in OTL and, well, the heir is a male, so the King have more reasons to be angry with his brother, and exiles him at once.

[6] As in OTL.

[7] As in OTL.

[8] As in OTL.

[9] As in OTL.
 
[Casa de Campo, Madrid, Monday, January, 16, 1834]

When Antonio de Corzá y Badorc was nine, in 1808, his grandfather woke him up in the middle of the night (not a very difficult task in a Madrid still nursing a failed rebellion) and showed him, from a balcony, how the French soldiers were taking out people of their houses.

- You know what are they going? - said his grandfather.

- They are going to die? Are they? - He heard the cook sob about a cousin of hers and understood some talk of arcabuceado. Everybody was talking about it. He was clever, but he was also scared.

- Yes. Because they serve their God and their King. - said Grandfather. - Good men serve God first and King later. Nobody else. Never forget this. Never.

Antonio de Corzá y Badorc never forgot. Now 34 and a lieutenant of the Guards, he was in one of the most difficult missions in his life. And it was difficult for what it meant.

He was going to upset the King.

When he read about the Scandal (in capital letters), in a letter somebody sent him from Lisbon, he could not believe it. So here he was, in a freezing night, to check it out. Even if it was true, his word was nothing. But that's why the old man was knocking his teeth behing him. Francisco Fernández del Pino was 64, not an age to be roaming the streets on foot in a winter night. But he was also the Greater Notary of the Realm, the man who certified that the King's laws were signed by the King's hand. If HIS word was not trustworthy, nobody's was. Anyway, just for checking, with them was a priest of the Royal Chapel and other from the Inquisition. All trusted by the Infante. Were not the letter to be true, this meeting could be construed as a conspiracy. And, if discovered, all of them could end exiled. Or dead.

But this was necessary. The enemies of God and the King were within. Everybody knew that when the King died that bastard Cea would bring back all the exiles. Alcalá Galiano, San Miguel, that Jew Mendizábal, were just waiting for the death of His Majesty to come back, overrule a weak woman (how weak she seemed to be!) and force a Constitution to the true King of Spain. That could not be.

From the end of the Tunnel to the House of the Vargas, in the gate of the Casa de Campo, there were scarcely 900 meters, but God were they hard. It was freezing. And silence was fundamental.

In the iron gate which gave way to the Royal Park, a soldier from the Guards. A sargeant, thank God. He outranked him.

- Open that gate, sargeant. And be quiet.

He didn't expected that. He flinched. But he obeyed. The damage was done.

- Follow us. And if you open your mouth, I can send you this same night to the Moncloa. You'll not see another dawn.

They came inside. As they expected, the palace was mostly in ruins, but a lateral window showed the flickering of some candles. Another guard kept a lateral door. He also budged at once.

- It is locked? - he asked to the second sargeant.

- It is not, sir.

He looked to Fernández del Pino and the priests. Even the old man was overtaken by emotion. The future was at hand.

- Let's go.

They rushed into the room. A screaming aya went forth but was forcefully pushed aside. On the left, behind a door, rustled noises. They went through it. It wasn't locked either.

The four men entered the bedroom. Because it WAS a bedroom. A naked man was shouting at them: only Corzá knew who he was. But that wasn't important right now: the man was dead and he knowed it. The important thing, the really important thing, was leaning on the wall at the end of the room. Covered with a blanket, trembling with no end, was a naked 27-year-old woman, María Cristina de Borbón Dos-Sicilias, Queen of Spain [1].

-------

[1] IOTL, in January 1834 María Cristina de Borbón was ALREADY married (morganatically) with her lover, Agustín Fernando Muñoz y Sánchez, a sargeant of the Royal Guards. I have no reason to believe that, even with a male heir, the attitudes of Fernando VII with his queen were to be very different. Also, he is still a very sickly man. We don't know when the relationship between María Cristina and Muñoz started, but I have no reason to think that the Queen would be very prudent in this situation, with her position and power in the court even more consolidated than IOTL. Of course, ITTL, Muñoz never will become Duke of Riánsares.
 
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[As published in the Gaceta de Madrid, January, 23, 1834]

--- EX OFFICIO NEWS ---

Reports on the health of His Majesty.

Sir: His Majesty woke up this morning at eight with better colour and some more appetite than yesterday. After that, within our care, he called some members of his House to sign some decrees. Still, His Majesty is still very weak and bedridden and we do consider that he is still at risk. May God guard you for many years = At Palace, January 20 = Pedro Castelló = Agustín Solórzano = H. E. The First Secretary of the Cabinet.

Sir: At about two this afternoon his Majesty had a strong and long bout of cough who did not produced any phlegm or blood but weakened His Majesty for the rest of the day. After many efforts he had a light supper and then went to bed without any fever, but still very weak. We will keep guarding His Majesty all night. May God guard you for many years = At Palace, January 20 = Pedro Castelló = Agustín Solórzano = H. E. The First Secretary of the Cabinet.

H. R. H. the Prince of Asturias and the rest of the Royal Family are at the Palace without any news on their important health.
 
Interesting and unusual thread ... I'll be attentive to their development .... I like the intervention of Perez Galdos as a character ... although given the title chosen was more or less expected ...
 
[As published in La Correspondencia de España, June, 19, 1877]

"Nobody dared to talk in that room. From the parlour, Robustiana brought us the hot chocolate, but don Benigno, as he saw the old maid entering the room, jumped on his feet. He scared us all, but Robustiana was enough a veteran in the business to not let any drop of chocolate fall from the good La Granja cups. Striding along the room, he started to shout:

- This is killing me. Let's go, Salvador. Let's go.

And then we went. To the Puerta del Sol. Where else?

Under the ruins (well, almost) of San Felipe el Real, a sea of redingots hummed, waiting. All liberal Madrid (and some absolutists, too, just for the mere sake of gloating) was there, talking about the events. Of course, most of the references were licentious enough to be kept, delicately, out of these lines. But, when we cleaned all the conversations we had with friends and acquaintances from all the fat of unfettered gossip, three things were clear: the Queen was in the Castle of Villaviciosa de Odón and WAS NOT to be let out, the man (a sargeant of the Household Guards from Tarancón, for God's sake!) WAS to be imprisoned on the Saladero that morning but didn't arrived (don Benigno still gave some benefit of the doubt, but me, knowing as I knew how the King could behave when angry, made a silent prayer for the soul of that sinner), and that a flurry of messengers left the Palace that same morning, and not even the most enterprising of Madrileños had any clue of where there were going. But nobody in that square was for a moment able to recognize his ignorance.

Then, when even don Benigno was already stiff from the cold wind from the Guadarrama and longing for the lost chocolate of Robustiana, came a shout from the crowd:

- The Gaceta! The Gaceta!

Helas, we were in the other side of the square and none of the copies (simple handbills, actually) arrived to our hands. When we arrived at the corner of calle del Arenal all were listening, as in Solemn Mass, the voices of the youngsters, mostly fresh from the reopen University, reading the royal decree.

- "...seeing as I am seeing that my life in this world will not be long..."

When a young student, I think an Andalusian, finished the reading, he sighed loudly and, with tears in his eyes, shouted:

"GOD DAMN that stupid Neapolitan! Now we'll have to fight!"

The silence was heavy as a rock. Then we heard it, coming from the gates of the church of the Buen Suceso: the jeer of the carlistas.

(Benito Pérez Galdós, Episodios Nacionales: Frailes, ayas y portugueses)

[From Guillermo Osuna y Llavardó, The late reign of Fernando VII (1823-1834), Miguel Servet, 1972]

"When the King heard about the infidelity of his wife from the irrepresible mouth of Fernández del Pino, he went literally apopleptic. In words of Corzá y Badorc, "he fell to the ground like a sack of flour". For the next eight hours, the Monarchy was headless. When the King recovered his consciousness, he started to cry. "All those who think of our King as ruthless and vengeful should have to seen him back then". Then, the Carlista priests of his Chapel tried to plant some doubts against the legitimacy of the heir, but this made the King angry and ignited, for the last time in Fernando's life, his famous bad temper. "The only thing he did not say to them was 'Execute these men", said Corzá. When Cea Bermúdez (who went reportedly livid with the news of the Queen's infidelity) arrived, he received "for inmediate publication" a decree with three points:

- One confirming the Prince of Asturias as legitimate and heir of the Throne;

- One conferring the Regency of the Realm in case of death of the Monarch to General Castaños, the Hero of Bailén and one of the most respected statesman in Spain. Cea Bermúdez was confirmed as First Secretary of the Cabinet, but Castaños was to countersign all decrees with Cea, starting at once.

- And, the most important of it all: "seeing as I am seeing that my life in this world will not be long, I do fully pardon my brother Carlos and command him to come to my Court and share with me the time I have left". Not only, as "the senior member of my Household"[1], he was to be the Tutor of the Prince of Asturias and of the Infanta Isabel.

No references were made to the Queen. As he signed the document, the King said, in the words of Corzá: "I only hope my son would be worthier for Spain than his mother... (sigh)... and than myself".

The King would live six more months, between attacks of the gout, fatigue, and more apoplexies. But he was not to do any more or budge from his decision. The lines were marked for the succession. If Carlos would not be King, he could do everything to make his nephew a solid defender of God and the Monarchy. And, even better, if he could prove that Cristina and Muñoz knew each other BEFORE the birth of the Prince of Asturias...

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[1] At this time, IOTL and ITTL, Fernando has only two living siblings: María Isabel and Francisco de Paula. And as one was the mother of María Cristina and the other his brother-in-law (by both sides: he was married to Cristina's sister, Luisa Carlota, the Galdosian "Semiramis"), it is unnecesary to say how high their regard in the court was in that moment. If you hate the guts of EACH and EVERY one of the members of your family, what do you'll do?
 
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TFSmith121

Banned
Interesting points of departure and nicely written

Interesting points of departure and nicely written; hadn't seen it before.

The passing reference in the 1869 coffee house scene with to "the situation in the Mississippi" sort of caught my eye.

You have a mention of Trafalgar, but it is unclear if it was fought as historically; a mention of Baylen (Bailen); and then the birth of the heir (legitimate or not). Are there departure points earlier than the 1830s?

Best,
 
[Transcription of the Seminar History of Spain in the 19th Century, by prof. Alan González Huéscar, University of Havana]

"The affair of the Queen put the infante Carlos in a tight spot. What would he do after his brother's death? Declare the illegitimacy of prince Carlos (as most of his followers were already doing, openly in closed circles and, much less blatantly, in the apostolic[1] press) and proclaim himself King? Or was he to be a good boy and accept the position of Tutor, which only could give him political leverage in the very long term? As we know, finally Carlos swore his nephew as prince and heir the day after his arrival in Madrid, on February 1834, stopping all talk of "bad blood" in the apostolic press and muffling the rumbles of his own clique. Why?

We'll never know for sure, but most historians agree that mostly it was a matter of his own Catholic conscience; because he knew that the prince Carlos was legitimate. He was at the Palace when the Prince was conceived and born. And his VERY efficient network of spies didn't found anything awry against the Queen during all the time all the time he was there; probably she only went on with the adultery when he left to Portugal and she felt safe and confident enough with her own position in the Court.

Then, the repute of the House was at risk. María Cristina, after all, was not a parvenu: she was his niece, she was family. One thing is letting the newspapers, shouting affairs with as much credibility you could gather, making insinuations about the affairs of the Queen of Spain. Other, quite different, was a member of the family saying so in public. Devout as he was, he couldn't believe that any Bourbon woman could betray a king[2]. Officially, Cristina was victim of a "strong myasmatic colic" and was been treated in Villaviciosa de Odón "where fresher airs could do her good". Nobody in Madrid, not even the extremely faithful manolas of the Lavapiés and the Puerta Cerrada, believed that, but, once again, "we wash our dirty clothes at home".

There were also his own doubts about the fidelity of the army. Of course, he thought that 200,000 Voluntarios Realistas were ready to defend God and King, but that figure was clearly an overestimation. Half of these "volunteers" weren't armed, and even if they were, who WAS to be the King anyway? Also, in the last years, again and again the liberales rose; Torrijos, Espoz y Mina, the Coloraos... Declaring himself as King would mean war. Probably short, but war after all.

And then, the fact that his bedridden brother asked him to "teach well" his son. That was very important for him. If his brother had not called him back from Portugal, I'm quite sure he would have risen against the prince and the liberals in Madrid[3], but now, well ensconced in the capital, he could move the pieces. After all, the Court was his; the debacle of Cristina has left the Palace with no party than his own. And the lad, well... he looked very clever".

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[1] Or carlist.

[2] Of course, that meant that he ignored the reputation of his OWN mother, but, well, he was mama's baby, after all.

[3] As he did IOTL.
 
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Interesting points of departure and nicely written; hadn't seen it before.

The passing reference in the 1869 coffee house scene with to "the situation in the Mississippi" sort of caught my eye.

You have a mention of Trafalgar, but it is unclear if it was fought as historically; a mention of Baylen (Bailen); and then the birth of the heir (legitimate or not). Are there departure points earlier than the 1830s?

Best,

Oh, sorry, as you can gather, I'm new here. The POD is the infanta Luisa Fernanda being born as a boy. All things before that are, of course, as IOTL.
 
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