It is a well-known fact that 19th-century Spain's political situation could be summed up in one word—chaos.
The current monarch of Spain, Isabella II of Spain, the sole queen of the Bourbon dynasty, was a symbol that perfectly embodied that chaos.
Her father, Ferdinand VII of Spain, died early, and she ascended the throne at the age of just three. From that day on, she had never experienced a single peaceful moment.
The moment she became queen, a civil war broke out over her succession, and in 1837 the system shifted to a constitutional monarchy, allowing the young queen to barely hold onto her position.
And that should have been the end of it—but of course, it wasn't.
Baldomero Espartero, leader of the Progressives, staged a coup, became regent, and pushed radical policies as if he were a dictator—only to be overthrown by yet another coup.
By the time this whirlwind of events settled, the queen was only thirteen years old.
And did stability follow after that? Not at all.
Cabinets collapsed regularly, constitutions were rewritten whenever people forgot the last one, and the military revolted every two or three years.
With the country in such a state, there was no way domestic or foreign policy could function properly.
Spain's national direction constantly drifted—if it tried to go right, it would suddenly turn left, and if it tried to go left, it would veer right again—led by masters of political drifting, producing no meaningful results for years.
Spain in 1851 was no different.
As always, it was in constant confusion, led by Juan Bravo Murillo, the head of the Council of Ministers—effectively the prime minister.
A staunch conservative who opposed the liberal wave that had swept Spain years prior, he was not particularly popular. Most believed he would fall from power within two or three years.
And yet, an opportunity came to him—the war between the United States and Mexico.
"President, is the American operation proceeding well?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. The day Spain regains its influence in the Americas is not far."
"…Is that truly possible?"
"Mexico is taking heavy damage in the war with the United States. And the United States itself, struggling against Mexico, is proving that it still has a long way to go before becoming a proper great power."
"But the most important issue is that we have already lost most of our colonies there. Is it really possible to expand our influence in the Americas again? It doesn't seem realistic."
Isabella II had ascended the throne as a child and endured civil war, leaving her with deep anxiety about her unstable position. Though Spain was a constitutional monarchy, the law still granted her considerable authority, and she actively used it to strengthen her influence and secure her position.
Spain's conservatives and liberals were in fierce opposition, so by skillfully balancing between them, the queen could easily dominate either side. But this style of governance only ensured that Spain's instability would never improve.
Even objectively speaking, Spain still had just enough strength left to barely pass as a great power—but in reality, it continued to display incompetence.
"Mexico has taken heavy damage in the war, but it is still holding on. If things continue like this, our influence—having supported them—will naturally grow."
"You mean the mining rights?"
"Yes. Using that as leverage, we will win over pro-Spanish figures and restructure their system so their economy depends on ours. On the surface they will not be a colony, but in reality, they will be no different from an economic colony. From there, we can extend our reach into the rest of South America."
Using foreign policy to distract from domestic instability—this was a classic political strategy.
Murillo, a conservative, was clearly trying to extend his political lifespan by exploiting the situation in Mexico. At first it seemed like a pointless effort, but unexpectedly, it was working. Among conservatives, the slogan of restoring Spain's former imperial glory had gained traction.
However, from the queen's perspective, it was still unsettling.
Spain was no longer the empire it once was. In just a few decades, it had lost an enormous number of colonies—Argentina, Chile, Colombia, Mexico, Peru, and Uruguay.
At this point, aside from Cuba and Puerto Rico, Spain had virtually no presence left in the Americas. Even globally, aside from Philippines, Guam, and a few territories in North Africa, its once vast empire had shrunk to something that could be counted on one's fingers.
And yet—restoring its former glory? It sounded absurd.
And yet again—people believed it.
No wonder the country was declining.
"Will the United States cause trouble?"
"No. If they were going to act, they would have done so already."
"What about Britain?"
"They seem busy preparing for the upcoming Expo. They are simply enjoying selling weapons—there does not appear to be any deeper intention."
"…Should I write a letter to Queen Victoria?"
Though not particularly close, the two queens occasionally exchanged letters, sharing a sense of connection as female monarchs. Despite a ten-year age difference, there were moments they understood each other, and Victoria had even sent letters of encouragement during difficult times.
Yet recently, Isabella had not reached out.
Because she was envious.
Both were queens, but Spain was clearly declining, while Britain continued to rise. To Isabella's eyes, even Spain at its peak could not compare to Britain's current power. And beyond that, Victoria had married someone she loved and built a happy family, while Isabella remained trapped in a loveless political marriage.
Victoria possessed everything Isabella did not.
"…If we succeed in expanding our influence in the Americas… could we rival Canada?"
"Canada? Ah, I see. You believe Britain will show interest in North American hegemony."
"That is not what I meant…"
"If Canada takes the north and we take the south, then which is superior will be decided in time. Should Your Majesty restore Spain's former glory, you will be praised as a monarch beyond compare."
She had no interest in titles like that.
She only wanted, just once, to make Victoria feel envy.
With that thought lingering, Isabella gave silent approval to Murillo's plan.
Back in Buckingham Palace, I couldn't help but wonder if this place had bad luck attached to it. For once, I managed to stay put. The United States–Mexico War was significant, but not enough to require me to personally go to Canada. Still, Spain's involvement was an unexpected variable, and their politicians were behaving with astonishing delusion.
Was it calculated strategy—or sheer bluff?
Either way, I needed to confirm it.
So I left the Expo preparations to Charles Wellesley and Benjamin Disraeli, and summoned the key figures to Buckingham Palace. The first to arrive was Spain's ambassador, Fernando Córdoba.
"A genius of the British Empire—it is an honor to meet you, Your Highness."
"You look well, Ambassador. I should have arranged more meetings like this earlier, but I have been busy. From now on, I will make time more often."
They exchanged pleasantries, drifting through small talk about the war, the Expo, and unrelated matters for nearly an hour. The ambassador, a seasoned veteran of diplomacy, showed no impatience.
Only after the desserts and milk tea were nearly finished did I steer the conversation toward the point.
"After returning from the victory celebrations, the Prime Minister immediately assigned me more work. Don't you think that's excessive?"
"Haha, that only proves how exceptional you are, Your Highness."
"I have done more than enough for the country. As Duke of Canada, I can handle Canadian matters, but even that has limits."
"Canada has been quite busy lately."
"And I trust you know why."
"Haha… I suppose I do."
"Still, as Duke of Canada, there is one concern."
"A concern?"
"Selling weapons is one thing, but Britain must consider the balance of power. If relations between Spain and the United States deteriorate, it could destabilize the Americas. Perhaps we should halt arms exports."
"There is no need for concern. Spain is merely engaging in free trade, and the United States—being a nation that values liberty—cannot object."
"…Even after passing legislation restricting war material sales?"
"That is likely aimed at their domestic companies. There have been no actions against our ships."
So it wasn't a bluff—they truly believed this.
"Then perhaps I was overthinking. After all, the United States is barely eighty years old. How could it challenge a nation like Spain?"
"Haha, indeed."
"Shall I then instruct Canada to continue supplying weapons to Cuba?"
"Of course."
The ambassador's eyes gleamed—clearly, profit was not their only objective.
I pressed further.
"To be honest, we have reassessed the United States… downward. It seems more like foam than substance."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. More foam than a poorly poured pint of Guinness."
The ambassador laughed in agreement. That settled it—Spain's confidence was genuine.
I continued, exaggerating America's weakness and recounting how quickly they had backed down before the Royal Navy. The ambassador left the palace filled with confidence.
The very next day, I secretly summoned the American ambassador, Abbott Lawrence, to Buckingham Palace.