If Franco really thought that he could perpetuate his dictatorship in an afterlife through Juan Carlos, the grandson of the Spanish king who went into exile in 1931, he must be turning over in his grave. And yet one suspects he might take a grandfatherly pride in how his protege managed to, first, consolidate his hold on the throne Franco handed him, and second, demonstrate considerable political skill in leading Spain toward stability as a modern, democratic state. As Paul Preston details in his thorough, yet readable Juan Carlos: Steering Spain from Dictatorship to Democracy (Norton, $35, 614 pages, illus.), King Juan Carlos had to tread a careful path between rival factions—particularly the Francoists, who opposed all change, and the opposition, which was determined to dismantle the dictatorship—along the rough road to democracy.
Mr. Preston, professor of international history at the London School of Economics, is also the biographer of Franco, and the scope of his research is admirable. Most readers may not need 200+ pages on Juan Carlos’s largely unhappy youth, throughout which he was manipulated not only by Franco but also by his father, Don Juan de Borbon, who continued to claim the throne for himself until after Franco’s death. But the author’s mastery of the nuances in every communication among the players is impressive, and his sympathy for his subject is contagious.
As the author describes it, the 21 years from the time that 10-year-old Juan Carlos was taken under Franco’s wing in Madrid until he was finally confirmed as Franco’s successor in July 1969 “can only have been an appalling experience.” Franco largely controlled the boy’s choices of friends, visits to his family, education, and career. And then Juan Carlos endured six more years of uncertainty before his actual coronation, during which time he “accepted with dignity the many humiliations to which he was exposed by his position as just one of Franco’s possible successors.”
Mastering this balancing act, the author says, built Juan Carlos’s strong character, which has subsequently enabled him to make the transition from the dictator’s nominated heir to a respected and popular constitutional monarch. Franco himself had often said, “Your Highness will not be able to govern as I have done,” and the king initially found himself “trapped between a left pressing for rapid reform and a bunker determined to change nothing.” Mr. Preston credits Juan Carlos with risking his life to help thwart a military coup in 1981, and thereby avoiding another civil war. To sum up the Spanish mood after the coup attempt, Mr. Preston quotes a “normally cynical commentator” as saying, “Whilst we Spaniards thought that we deserved something better than a king, it turns out that we have a king that we don’t deserve.”
Although Basque violence and military subversion remain threats to the monarchy, the king has been able to retire from his role of First Fireman, and in fact has acquired a reputation as a playboy. But who can begrudge him some pleasures after the childhood he endured?
Mr. Preston has written a definitive work on modern Spain and the role of its monarch in turning the country into a democracy.
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Gen. Winfield Scott, one of the leading soldiers of the 19th century, was a remarkable man. For more than five decades between 1809 and 1862 he was on active service with the U.S. Army, ranking as a general officer from 1814 until his death in 1866. A popular hero in the War of 1812, Scott became a driving force in the evolution of the U.S. Army from a collection of local militias to a professional force.
Alas, Scott is now remembered, if remembered at all, as the irascible and infirm commander of the U.S. Army at the outbreak of the Civil War. Born in 1786, Scott was by then older than the constitution he revered. Virginia-born yet loyal to the Union, Scott sought to advise Lincoln in the first year of the war, only to be maneuvered into retirement by the ambitious Gen. George B. McClellan.
Scott first made a name for himself in the War of 1812, when he contributed to some of the few victories American forces scored on land. In July 1814, while commanding a brigade of American regulars, he defeated the British at Chippewa. Scott subsequently fought a bloody standoff at Lundy’s Lane, where he himself was wounded. Scott became a hero overnight and a brevet major general at the age of 28.
Scott made the army his profession, and his accomplishments were many. He wrote a book on infantry tactics that was the accepted manual up to the Civil War. In 1832 he played a diplomatic role of a diplomat in easing the tensions raised by South Carolina’s threatened secession.
Allan Peskin, the general’s latest and best biographer, believes Scott deserves to be remembered for his earlier service, particularly for his role in developing the U.S. Army Winfield Scott and the Profession of Arms, Kent State University Press, $49,267 pages). Appointed commanding general of the Army in 1841, he instituted reforms, outlawed cruel punishment for soldiers, and encouraged greater professionalism in the officer corps. In Mr. Peskin’s words, Scott saw himself as an advocate for the common soldier:
“Were the privies at Fort Columbus inadequate and disgusting? Scott ordered them repaired without delay. Did privates have to sleep two in a bed? The commanding general put a stop to that ’unclean practice.’”
Scott’s most important field service was in the war with Mexico. In 1847 Scott led an outnumbered 10,000-man force 250 mountainous miles from Vera Cruz to Mexico City. There, urged by many officers to assault the enemy capital, he chose instead to besiege it, and ultimately captured the city at the cost of only 20 dead. It was one of the most successful campaigns of any American war, yet it was Scott’s rival, Gen. Zachary Taylor, who became a popular idol and gained the White House. Scott was a big man—six feet five inches tall, and perhaps 250 pounds in his prime. He thought highly of himself—his nickname was “Old Fuss and Feathers”—and his vanity was legendary. Once, while recalling a clash in the War of 1812, he seized his shoulder with an expression of pain, crying, “Oh, Niagara! Niagara!” to remind his listeners of his wound.
Not everyone considered Scott’s vanity a harmless indulgence. Editor Horace Greeley called the general “an immeasurably conceited, aristocratic, arbitrary ass.”
For most of the 19th century there was no prejudice against a prominent soldier turning to politics. Scott was the Whig nominee for president in 1852, but the party was in decline, and Scott was overwhelmingly defeated by Democrat Franklin Pierce. Mr. Peskin doubts whether Scott would have made a good president, but concludes that it would have been difficult for him to have been any worse than Pierce.
The author quotes one of Scott’s peers, who found the general “a brave, prudent, skillful, brilliant, and humane commander” who was “as strong in great things” as he was “weak in little things.” Mr. Peskin appears to agree, and he makes a good case for the general.
John M. and Priscilla S.Taylor are writers in McLean, Virginia.
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