1812
Life in Spain was not life for young soldier Émile Delacour. His captain said everything would be so easy. They were fighting peasants. Perhaps some rebellious military men, but their enemy was inexperienced, untrained, uncoordinated. It should have been so easy to put out the fire of revolution which spread like wildfire from Madrid to the rest of the country.
But it turned out the Spaniards were not human, but demons.
They hated them so, so much that even the prostitutes were cold to them. It was impossible to find a spy for them, the sole proposition was taken as an insult and not few candidates spat in their face.
"War is not easy, just like life is not easy. Get over it, soldier" Captain Martin said to him, riding his horse by his side. After that, he handed Émile a sheet of paper. "Take a look at this."
Émile didn't know any Spanish, but recognized the man who was caricatured, praying on his knees inside of a bottle of wine, with the liquid reaching his neck.
"What does it say?" he asked his superior.
"'Each of us has their luck, till death yours is being a drunk'."
"Oh, dear..."
"They call him Pepe Botella. Bottle Pepe. He came here to give these imbeciles a better life and how do they pay him? Wasting no chance to call him a drunk."
"Maybe they just need time..."
"Bah! I would kill the entire population. It would do this land a favor, like pulling the weed. Even the children are vermin. I should have returned home two months ago, but instead I have to be in this filthy hole and-"
Words and something else died when shadows fell on them.
"Are you sure we will find him?"
"I am."
"How?"
"I was married to him once."
Portugal and England brought no men with them. It was better to handle this issue personally—also, there was a high chance that the men they brought ended up dead or wounded, and they didn't want to lose soldiers for nothing. They made their horses walk slowly, so they could listen to each sound and watch every shadow, every movement...Even the shake of a leaf made them stop.
"He sure loves being in the wilderness" England commented with a frown. "First in the New World, then here...He would be happy running with the boars, naked and filled with dirt, that's for sure..."
"We should have encountered him by now..."
"All we have found in our way were French soldiers. I am starting to wonder if it's not too late. If he's not being taken as a prisoner or dead."
"Absolutely."
"How do you know?"
"I've told you: because I was once married to him. I know him."
"I know him too. I've been fighting him for centuries. Admit it, Portugal: this time France has probably killed him. All he has on his side are villains. The army is on France's side. He just can't win. We arrived too late."
"Trust me, I am sure we will find him in any moment."
Portugal had no idea of how true his words were until he felt a great blow and when he realized he was knocked out from his horse and all he could see were lots of hands grabbing him, dragging him through the ground. He heard England scream some curses, probably suffering the same situation, but he couldn't see him, with all those faces in the way.
And then, a familiar one.
"Well, well, I can't see I'm surprised. When a whale starts to bleed, sharks approach..."
It was him. Spain. He had his hands on his hips and looked at him with a smirk. He was not dressed in the courtier fashion, but had fused with the common people, wearing a bandana on his head and growing his sideburns. He had a cigarette in his smiling lips.
Portugal chuckled and turned his head to England.
"What did I tell you?"
A man with a beard stopped by Spain's side and gazed at the two nations with a smirk.
"So these are nations too?"
"Yep. Inglaterra y Portugal."
"They don't look like tough guys. Not even special."
"Don't underestimate them. If they are here, that is bad news for us."
"We came here to help" Portugal said.
"Excuse me, I didn't hear anybody here give you permission to talk" the man said to him.
"No, no, Juanito, let him speak. I haven't spoken to my dear husband in so long, I was starting to miss his sweet voice" Spain smiled, throwing what little remained of his cigarette away.
"We came here to help you fight France" repeated Portugal, standing up, and helping England do so.
"Oh, you are so generous..."
"You and us want the same thing" England intervened, shaking the dust off his clothes. "To make France bite the dust. You can't do it alone."
"We can manage perfectly on our own"
"You can't. Sure, you are resisting, but for how long?"
"We have intercepted the newspapers. We know France is having a hard time with Russia. He forgot to pack good coats apparently and now his balls are frozen. He is weak, and Joseph Bonaparte doesn't know that. He doesn't know because by the time any Frenchman here hears any news, we know it in advance, and if we don't want them to know something, they will never find out."
"It is true Russia got to stop France and that man, Bonaparte" Portugal said, "that is why it is time to attack, now that he is vulnerable."
"Perhaps you don't remember that just a few years ago I declared war on the two of you."
"Did you want to fight us?"
"Not really. But I refuse to believe you forgot about it."
"We can overlook it" England said. "The situation is really exceptional. That man, Bonaparte, has made himself an emperor and will stop at nothing till all of Europe is in his hands. And the three of us know how corrupted France's soul is. He was your family, Spain, and betrayed you. Don't be ashamed. He did the same to me. We also made a deal long time ago, to fight against you before you became too powerful. And he did the same to me. France should not be in control of Europe. We cannot consent this any longer. He will come to our houses and take over our governments, overthrown and kill our monarchs. This is our chance to stop him."
That man, called Juan, crossed his arms and glanced at his nation, who did the same gestured and closed his eyes, deep in thought.
"...You came alone" he finally said.
"Our men are already in the peninsula, waiting for instructions" England replied.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You can trust us...Come on, Antonio. Let us help you" Portugal said to him.
Spain opened his eyes and they met Portugal's. The man who was once more like a neighbor to him, more than a husband. Like if they were parts of one single soul. Why did they have to see each other war after war? ...Why did Portugal have to leave?
Spain looked away, then turned around.
"This man here is Juan Martínez, but everybody calls him El Empecinado. Him and me will go tomorrow to Torija to blow up the castle, before the French use it as a fortification. The other guys of the group will tell you all details. They don't know a single word of English or Portuguese, so you will have to manage somehow."
Portugal smirked and said to him aloud, before Spain walked away:
"I'm glad to see you again!"
Spain stopped and turned to him.
"Sim, é um prazer vê-lo novamente, querido" he replied, smiling too.
He left England and Portugal with those bandits and walked along with El Empecinado.
"Are you sure we can trust them?" the man asked him.
"Right now I would even trust the Devil..." Spain replied.
He did not complain about living in the forests, always moving, following, spying, but the people were tired, had to resist sieges, hunger, repression...and he felt all of that even more than what could happen to his carnal body.
"My lord!" friar Miguel ran to his encounter.
"How many times I have to tell you, my dear friar, that you don't have to call me that?"
"Sorry, uh, señor Antonio, but it is important. A mailman has been intercepted in Brihuega. He was following your steps with a message for you from the Parliament."
He tended him a few envelops at which Spain gazed for long before grabbing.
"Thank you" he finally said, and read the first letter while resuming his walk. But he soon stopped. "Oh."
"What has Pepe Botella done now?" El Empecinado asked him.
"Nothing. They want me to go to Cadiz. Sorry, Juanito, I can't go with you."
"It's alright. I understand it is important."
"...It is."
"Don't worry, then. You have your own fights. Leave this to us."
"May God help you."
Spain then read the other letter. This was not from any government. Just reading that handwriting, that name made his expression change. It was from his little girl, Mexico.
Spain,
You haven't replied to the letters I have been sending you these last four years and it is now when I am told you are not living in palace anymore, but fighting in the hills and the forests against France. I must admit I spent a long time angry at you because I thought you were ignoring me, but now I tell myself you are just too busy defending your freedom to sit down and reply to letters which never reach you. I am not even sure this one will find its addressee, but I must try. No. You could not be ignoring something so important. And I am sure what has been happening lately in our continent is just a misunderstanding, people in the government not following your orders. They are being cruel to us, silencing us with violent methods, and I am sure you wouldn't order such a thing personally.
Freedom is precisely what I want to talk to you about. Not your own—but I sincerely wish you escape the claws of that filthy France—but mine. I am not a little girl anymore. The facts are the facts. I am grown up now and it is time that I make my own decisions. I could make this piece of land and my people great if you gave me the chance to make decisions.
Here in America your children are very inspired by what you are doing. Please, don't think we are comparing you to France. We know you love us. You have been a severe father, you made us work, but I know you love us. The matter is, Spain, we are grown up now, and it is time we make our own decisions and are owners of our own lives. I am a woman and I have to start acting like one. I would be a failure if after all you have done to raise me I was still dependent from you.
I wish you the best in this war, but, please, I ask you to consider my words. May God protect you, my dear big brother.
"Your face changed" El Empecinado said to him. "Who's that from?"
Spain, after a moment of silence, chuckled and turned the paper into a ball.
"My baby girl. Nations seem different from humans but when they are teenagers they also have that rebellious phase" he replied, and threw it away.
The composition of the Parliament was quite...special, to say something. Since there was no way the Latin American representatives could attend, men from the New World who were in the city were chosen; there were writers, lawyers, doctors, but their numbers were so insignificant in comparison to priests, prestigious men, mayors and high ranks. Some were progressive, others supported the Ancient Regime. And not all noblemen supported absolutism, just like not all bourgeois were liberal. But they agreed on something: the situation of things made it impossible to go back to how they were before France's invasion.
"Bonaparte's intervention in Bayonne was completely illegal. Violence was used and there was no consent from the nation, here present."
Spain felt all those eyes on him, and he, the most powerful nation in the world, felt shy like a little boy.
"No king should get the crown without the explicit consent of his nation. We need a regulation which protects us from rascals like Bonaparte."
"You are our real sovereign."
Spain turned his head to the mariscal who was gazing at him.
"You are this land. It is you who should hold the power" the man said firmly. And Spain heard mutters of approval around.
"You shouldn't be subject to any family or person, but a mere collaborator. They don't own you. Nobody should. You are the representation of something divine, something pure, which should not be corrupted by the ambition of men" a journalist stood up to say.
"You know what people want. You are the people" a doctor intervened. "So it is you the one we will follow."
Spain sighed. He stood up to speak to his audience.
"...Thank you, gentlemen, but I am not sure I could do this...I...I have never been such an authority..."
"Don't be afraid, my lord" a count said. "You will always have our support and our guide."
"...For so long...I have seen men involving me and you in their personal whims...Sacrificing lives like it was nothing...So much injustice..." Spain raised his voice and his head. "But that is over. From now on, whoever holds the crown, will have to listen to me. No. To you. It is you who will tell me what will be done, because you represent my people's will. It is you who will legislate. The king shall only execute it, and justice...Justice is only a tribunal's competence. It is not my place to judge somebody. And you...you should be chosen by all men in this kingdom. Yes, all men, no matter their age or condition. I shall not intervene, because my will is the general will..."
"But what about religion?" a priest interrupted the nation.
"The official religion is my religion: the Roman Catholic. No other shall be professed. I mean, if you liberals agree."
"We think it is fair" one writer replied, nodding slightly.
"In order to defend these rules, we will have a special police" Spain, heated, said, his hands on the tribune and eyes wide open. "But we also need a permanent army, see the consequences of not having one. I legitimize the king, so the king must do what I say, and what I want from the king is that he accepts these laws. If he doesn't, I will never let him touch the crown. Many of my people don't know how to read or write and we must change that. All populations will have an education system. And since they will have more interesting ideas, we should be able to know of them, even if they may seem challenging. They shall not be censored."
"What about the old privileges?" a marquis asked.
"To hell with them! There will be no more lords and no more vassals! All men were created equal! Everybody should be free to work and associate as they please! Do not look at me like that, gentlemen, your properties will still be yours. Just, you won't have any more subjects, but workers."
"What about the Inquisition?" an old bishop asked.
Oh, the Inquisition...Spain hadn't assisted to one execution in ages, because he had been so busy, but he had lost so much interest in them. In fact, they made him cringe so bad...After the Jewish and the Moors were expelled and Protestants were taken out of the country with the sword, what sense did they have? To chase the unfaithful and old ladies who thought they could summon the Devil?
"There will be no more Inquisition!" Spain declared, and more than one person in the room sighed in relief. "Mr. scribe, did you take notes of everything?"
"Yes, sir!" the little man exclaimed, moving his quill frenetically.
"So...Do you all agree?" the president asked the people in the room.
"Yes!"
"Aye!"
"Long live Spain!"
"Then, it is decided! Our Constitution is approved!"
"Gentlemen, this is an historical day, March 19th..." the bishop stood up, satisfied.
"Saint Joseph..." a man near Spain commented. "La Pepa..."
"This little beauty here" the nation jumped to the scribe and placed a hand on the pile of papers in his hand. "I love her so much she'll be my little Pepa!"
"¡Viva la Pepa!" was the cry which echoed in the Parliament, and in the streets Spain was cheered by the people of Cadiz, who carried him shoulder-high through the streets, crying, laughing, waving the new flags like if Spain was in a golden and red sea. And in all Spain the scream spread: "¡Viva la Pepa!"
1813
Wellington wasn't such a great tactician in Spain's opinion but he seemed to learn from his own mistakes and the result was there, in front of his eyes.
Joseph Bonaparte, seeing the little troops remaining in the country were being crushed by the Spanish, the English and the Portuguese, fled. But France wasn't allowed to leave with him yet.
"Look at him."
France was tied up, on his knees in front of his standing enemies. He shook his hair out of his face and kept looking at them defiantly.
"How cute" Portugal continued.
"He looks so pretty when he's all beaten up, like the snake he is" England smiled, watching the French with a hand on his chin.
"He's so pretty I want to cry...I will miss you so, so much, brother France..." Spain crouched down to his level. "I think...the only way I could bear being apart from you is taking what you call a souvenir from you..."
Spain took his knife and France honestly thought he was going to cut his ear off. Maybe his tongue or his nose. But what Spain cut was one of his golden locks.
"Good idea, Spain. If you allow me, I had so much fun kicking this man's behind that I want a memento of this too" England stepped forward, took the knife Spain offered him and cut another look. "Oh, and another one for my king."
"I want one too" Portugal took the knife and cut a few locks more. "And this one is for my king too, and for my queen, and my little princes, and my good friend Manoel, and Luiz, and Joaquim, and my good friend the baker will be so glad I remembered him..."
When they were done, France didn't even look like himself, with barely any hair left. Even then he kept glaring at each one of them.
"When you see your emperor again" England said to him, approaching so much he was almost kissing him, "tell him this is the beginning to his fall..."
He stood up and demanded the French soldier's attention snapping his fingers.
"We're done. You can take him away."
And so they did, so intimidated they didn't even raise their gaze from the ground. France, on the contrary, didn't stop glaring at them silently until he disappeared.
"Well, I think we earned ourselves a bottle of liquor or two" Portugal smiled, rubbing his hands.
"England will take care of it. He looted my cities; sure he has something" with that, Spain walked away too, leaving England frowning.
"Yeah, that wasn't very nice, you know..." Portugal said to him.
"I had something pending with him, that's all" England said, proudly raising his chin. "Well, I am still up for that drink. Forget that ingrate."
1814
Spain was so excited it made the people around him smile. He looked like the dog which had been waiting for its master to return from a long journey.
He bit his under lip when he finally saw the carriage, cheered by everyone in its path. He was the first to advance to its encounter. He wanted to be the first to say hello to Ferdinand.
He came alone. Spain would never hear from his parents again. But at that moment he didn't care. Ferdinand, the true king, was back. As soon as he got out from the carriage, he embraced him tightly.
"You're home..."
"I'm finally home..."
Ferdinand looked at him for long, the bandages, the scars, the scratches, while they came into the palace and Spain smiled at him.
"It's nothing. I mean, it was not a walk around the park, but it was worth it. Those French people are back to their swamp and you are here. And they may have told you already, but we got a Constitution!"
"A Constitution..." Ferdinand repeated in lower voice.
"Yes! It is something so big, we could do so many good things...Uhm, if you want to get the crown officially, you'll have to sign it, but you come from so far away, you'd better rest first."
"Yes, of course...Just give me some time."
He kept watching his wounds, how tired he looked. Spain was fool enough to believe it was concern and not calculation what was in his eyes...
Until those words were promulgated.
«...my royal spirit is not only not swearing nor accepting said Constitution, nor any decree from the Parliament, but declaring that Constitution and said decrees invalid and with no value or effect, nor now nor ever, as if those acts had never happened and moved out of the way in time, and with no obligation in my nations and subjects of any class and condition to keep and guard them»
"...What is this?"
Spain was standing, while Ferdinand was sitting, reading a book. The king was so calm, he turned the page without looking away from his reading, as if Spain wasn't there.
"You promised..."
Spain smacked the book and made it fall from Ferdinand's hands.
"You promised!"
Ferdinand finally looked at him, and Spain saw something in those dark eyes he didn't like.
"I never promised anything."
"Ferdinand, the Constitution is going to bring so many good things-!"
"I know what is going to bring: more power to you, less power to me."
"That's not true, you are still the king..."
"You are limiting me."
"It's for the common good."
"God put me where I am. Are you going against God's design?"
"God didn't do it. It was me. And your people. Which is the same. They gave their lives, their blood, everything they had for you...And this is how you pay them?!"
"I am warning you, Antonio, forget about that stupid thing."
"It is stupid for you! Not for me! That paper means my life finally has a sense, other than being the puppet of the monarch on call! Why can't you see?!"
"What I am seeing" Ferdinand glared at him, "is that those liberals managed to rot your brains. They put those ideas in your head and now you're acting crazy, against all order. Perhaps you need some time to get back on track...and remember who is in charge."
"You're only in charge if I say so!" Spain screamed at him.
They were not alone. The servants were still present. And they couldn't believe what they had to witness, still like statues.
And when Ferdinand slapped Spain, several of them couldn't repress a gasp.
The king had just smacked the nation.
"Guards!"
A couple of soldiers approached.
"Our friend Spain needs some time in the dungeon to remember what the order of things is..." Ferdinand said, shaking his hand dismissively and turning around.
Spain shook his head in disbelief. His body tensed and resisted the guards, who ended up taking him away anyway.
"Hijo de puta..."
Ferdinand picked up the book, sat again and resumed his reading.
First of all, I want to thank the anonymous reviewer who made me realize that little spelling mistake. I encourage readers to point those things out to me, because I am not a native English speaker, sometimes I've used a browser which had auto-correct in Spanish and my brain's a mess, so surely this piece is full of mistakes like that one! And thank you for being so nice!
Now, the history behind this. Oh, do we Spanish glorify our war of independence. Every year in March there are representations all around the country of episodes of this war. Surely, we overlook the English and Portuguese aid, because, well, Portugal is that neighbor/brother we often forget about and we are so proud and hold so much grudge to the English for the destruction and looting they caused in our cities that it is no surprised tradition has put all merit on the Spanish guerrilla, small groups of people who attacked the French in isolated places and fled when help arrived. There was a very, very famous TV series in the 70s called Curro Jiménez, starred by late Sancho Gracia, which is about a bandit who fights the French and injustice in this historical context.
It was during this time when we have our dearest Constitution, almost as loved as our current one. It was called the Pepa because it was promulgated the 19th of March, the festivity of Saint Joseph, José in Spain, whose hypocoristic is Pepe—in female form, Josefa and Pepa, respectively. The kings had given the people some rights, but on this one the powers were separated, the king being only an executor, while the Parliament, elected by the people gained power. The Inquisition, as scary to the Spaniards as it is in the legend, was abolished, so was the Ancient Regime. For the first time in History, Spanish people had rights, independently from the will of some king.
The problem with the War is what came after it. During the war, many Latin American countries, inspired by the Spanish, North American and French revolutions, instigated by England's politics in America, the bad administration, the quarrels between the creoles and the Spanish and the abuse of the indigenous people, started standing up to Spain while it was still fighting France.
But the biggest problem was Ferdinand VII. We have seen that he was an ambitious man who plotted against his own family in order to gain the power. When he returned from France, the first thing he did was to eliminate everything built and chase the liberals who limited his power, using the forces of the old regime loyal to him, in a country which was tired and destroyed. And there are even more things to say about Ferdinand...He used to be called the Desired and became the most hated king in our history.
By the way, little mention at the birth of our current flag, in 1804.
