precisely those which appealed least to the populace of Spain. Godoy was a notable collector of pictures and antiquities, and had a certain liking for, and skill in, music. When this has been said, there is nothing more to put down in his favour. Fifteen years of power had so turned his head that for a long time he had been taking himself quite seriously, and his ambition had grown so monstrous that, not contented with his alliance by marriage with the royal house, he was dreaming of becoming a sovereign prince. The bait by which Napoleon finally drew him into the trap, the promise that he should be given the Algarves and Alemtejo, was not the Corsican’s own invention. It had been an old idea of Godoy’s which he broached to his ally early in 1806, only to receive a severe rebuff. Hence came the joy with which he finally saw it take shape in the treaty of Fontainebleau[21]. When such schemes were running in his head, we can perfectly well credit the accusation which Prince Ferdinand brought against him, of having intended to change the succession to the crown of Spain, by a _coup d’état_ on the death of Charles IV. The man had grown capable of any outburst of pride and ambition. Meanwhile he continued to govern Spain by his hold over the imbecile and gouty old king and his worthless wife, who was now far over fifty, but as besotted on her favourite as ever. It was his weary lot to be always in attendance on them. They could hardly let him out of their sight. Toreño relates a ridiculous story that, when Napoleon invited them to dinner on the first night of their unhappy visit to Bayonne, he did not ask the Prince of the Peace to the royal table. Charles was so unhappy and uncomfortable that he could not settle down to his meal till the emperor had sent for Godoy, and found a place for him near his master and mistress[22]. [19] The princes that occur in Spanish politics, e.g. Eboli or Castelfranco, were holders of Italian, generally Neapolitan, titles. [20] Foy, _Guerre de la Péninsule_, ii. 267. [21] See the proofs from papers in the Spanish Foreign Office, quoted in Arteche’s _Guerra de la Independencia_, i. 148. [22] Toreño, i. 86. The story is confirmed by Savary, in his _Mémoires_, ii. 221.