To give a fair idea of the education, character, and brains of this miserable prince it is only necessary to quote a couple of his letters. The first was written in November, 1807, when he had been imprisoned by his father for carrying on the famous secret correspondence with Napoleon. It runs as follows:-- DEAR PAPA[24], I have done wrong: I have sinned against your majesty, both as king and as father; but I have repented, and I now offer your majesty the most humble obedience. I ought to have done nothing without your majesty’s knowledge; but I was caught unawares. I have given up the names of the guilty persons, and I beg your majesty to pardon me for having lied to you the other night, and to allow your grateful son to kiss your royal feet. (Signed) FERNANDO. San Lorenzo (The Escurial), Nov. 5, 1807. [24] Observe ‘Papa Mio’ instead of ‘Padre Mio.’ The Spanish text I have printed as Appendix 3 of this volume. Some say that Godoy dictated the wording of the letter, and did not merely insist that a letter of some sort must be written to secure a pardon. In any case the terms were such as no self-respecting person could have signed. The sentence ‘pido à V. M. me perdone por haberle mentido la otra noche,’ the most vile in the whole composition, are omitted by the courtly De Pradt when he translates it into French. It is doubtful whether the childish whining, the base betrayal of his unfortunate accomplices, or the slavish tone of the confession forms the most striking point in this epistle. But the second document that we have to quote gives an even worse idea of Ferdinand. Several years after he had been imprisoned by Napoleon at Valençay, a desperate attempt was made to deliver him. Baron Colli, a daring Austrian officer, entered France, amid a thousand dangers, with a scheme for delivering the prince: he hoped to get him to the coast, and to an English frigate, by means of false passports and relays of swift horses. The unfortunate adventurer was caught and thrown into a dungeon at Vincennes[25]. After the plot had miscarried Ferdinand wrote as follows to his jailor:-- ‘An unknown person got in here in disguise and proposed to Señor Amezaga, my master of the horse and steward, to carry me off from Valençay, asking him to pass on some papers, which he had brought, to my hands, and to aid in carrying out this horrible undertaking. My honour, my repose, and the good opinion due to my principles might all have been compromised, if Señor Amezaga had not given proof of his devotion to His Imperial Majesty and to myself, by revealing everything to me at once. I write immediately to give information of the matter, and take this opportunity of showing anew my inviolable fidelity to the Emperor Napoleon, and the horror that I feel at this infernal project, whose author, I hope, may be chastised according to his deserts.’