The government of Spain, a worn-out despotism lodged in the hands of a family of the lowest degree of intellect, was one of the worst in Europe; and the state of the nobility, speaking in general, (for there were noble exceptions,) seemed scarce less degraded. The incestuous practice of marrying within the near degrees of propinquity, had long existed, with its usual consequences, the dwarfing of the body, and degeneracy of the understanding. The education of the nobility was committed to the priests, who took care to give them no lights beyond Catholic bigotry. The custom of the country introduced them to premature indulgences, and they ceased to be children, without arriving either at the strength or the intellect of youth.

The middling classes, inhabitants of towns, and those who followed the learned professions, had not been so generally subjected to the same withering influence of superstition and luxury. In many instances, they had acquired good education, and were superior to the bigotry which the ecclesiastics endeavoured to inspire them with; but, mistaking the reverse of wrong for the right, many of these classes had been hurried into absolute scepticism, having renounced altogether the ideas of religion, which better instruction would have taught them to separate from superstition, and having adopted in their extravagance many of the doctrines which were so popular in France at the commencement of the Revolution.

The lower classes of Spain, and especially those who resided in the country, possessed nearly the same character which their ancestors exhibited under the reign of the Emperor Charles V. They were little interested by the imperfections of the government, for the system, though execrable, did not immediately affect their comforts. They lay too low for personal oppression, and as the expenses of the state were supplied from the produce of the American provinces, the Spanish peasants were strangers, in a great measure, to the exactions of the tax-gatherer. Born in a delicious climate, where the soil, on the slightest labour, returned far more than was necessary for the support of the labourer, extreme poverty was as rare as hard toil. The sobriety and moderation of the Spaniard continued to be one of his striking characteristics; he preferred his personal ease to increasing the sphere of his enjoyments, and would rather enjoy his leisure upon dry bread and onions, than toil more severely to gain better fare. His indolence was, however, often exchanged for the most active excitation, and though slow in the labours of the field, the Spaniard was inexhaustible in his powers of travelling through his plains and sierras, and at the end of a toilsome day's journey, seemed more often desirous of driving away his fatigue by the dance, than of recruiting himself by repose. There were many classes of peasantry—shepherds, muleteers, traders between distant provinces—who led a wandering life by profession, and, from the insecure state of the roads, were in the habit of carrying arms. But even the general habits of the cultivators of the soil led them to part with the advantages of civilized society upon more easy terms than the peasantry of a less primitive country. The few and simple rights of the Spaniard were under the protection of the alcalde, or judge of his village, in whose nomination he had usually a vote, and whose judgment was usually satisfactory. If, however, an individual experienced oppression, he took his cloak, sword, and musket, and after or without avenging the real or supposed injury, plunged into the deserts in which the peninsula abounds, joined one of the numerous bands of contraband traders and outlaws by which they were haunted, and did all this without experiencing any violent change, either of sentiment or manner of life.

As the habits of the Spaniard rendered him a ready soldier, his disposition and feelings made him a willing one. He retained, with other traits of his ancestry, much of that Castilian pride, which mixed both with the virtues and defects of his nation. The hours of his indolence were often bestowed on studying the glories of his fathers. He was well acquainted with their struggles against the Moors, their splendid conquests in the New World, their long wars with France; and when the modern Castilian contrasted his own times with those which had passed away, he felt assurances in his bosom, that, if Spain had descended from the high pre-eminence she formerly enjoyed in Europe, it was not the fault of the Spanish people. The present crisis gave an additional stimulus to their natural courage and their patriotism, because the yoke with which they were threatened was that of France, a people to whom their own national character stands in such opposition, as to excite mutual hatred and contempt. Nothing, indeed, can be so opposite as the stately, grave, romantic Spaniard, with his dislike of labour, and his rigid rectitude of thinking, to the lively, bustling, sarcastic Frenchman, indefatigable in prosecution of whatever he undertakes, and calculating frequently his means of accomplishing his purpose, with much more ingenuity than integrity. The bigotry of the Spaniards was no less strikingly contrasted with the scoffing, and, at the same time, proselytizing scepticism, which had been long a distinction of modern France.

To conclude, the Spaniards, easily awakened to anger by national aggression, and peculiarly sensible to such on the part of a rival nation, were yet more irresistibly excited to resistance and to revenge, by the insidious and fraudulent manner in which they had seen their country stript of her defenders, deprived of her frontier fortresses, her capital seized, and her royal family kidnapped, by an ally who had not alleged even a shadow of pretext for such enormous violence.

Such being the character of the Spaniards, and such the provocation they had received, it was impossible that much time should elapse ere their indignation became manifest. The citizens of Madrid had looked on with gloomy suspicion at the course of public events which followed Ferdinand's imprudent journey to Bayonne. By degrees almost all the rest of the royal family were withdrawn thither, and Godoy, upon whose head, as a great public criminal, the people ardently desired to see vengeance inflicted, was also transferred to the same place.[389] The interest excited in the fate of the poor relics of the royal family remaining at Madrid, which consisted only of the Queen of Etruria and her children, the Infant Don Antonio, brother of the old king, and Don Francisco, youngest brother of Ferdinand, grew deeper and deeper among the populace.

On the last day of April, Murat produced an order to Don Antonio,[390] who still held a nominal power of regency, demanding that the Queen of Etruria and her children should be sent to Bayonne. This occasioned some discussion, and the news getting abroad, the public seemed generally determined that they would not permit the last remains of their royal family to travel that road, on which, as on that which led to the lion's den in the fable, they could discern the trace of no returning footsteps. The tidings from thence had become gradually more and more unfavourable to the partisans of Ferdinand, and the courier, who used to arrive every night from Bayonne, was anxiously expected on the evening of April the 30th, as likely to bring decisive news of Napoleon's intentions towards his royal visitor. No courier arrived, and the populace retired for the evening, in the highest degree gloomy and discontented. On the next day (1st of May) the Gate of the Sun, and the vicinity of the Post-office, were crowded with men, whose looks menaced violence, and whose capas, or long cloaks, were said to conceal arms. The French garrison got under arms, but this day also passed off without bloodshed.

On the 2d of May, the streets presented the same gloomy and menacing appearance. The crowds which filled them were agitated by reports that the whole remaining members of the royal family were to be removed, and they saw the Queen of Etruria and her children put into their carriages, together with Don Francisco, the youngest brother of Ferdinand, a youth of fourteen, who appeared to feel his fate, for he wept bitterly. The general fury broke out at this spectacle, and at once and on all sides, the populace of Madrid assailed the French troops with the most bitter animosity. The number of French who fell was very considerable, the weapons of the assailants being chiefly their long knives, which the Spaniards use with such fatal dexterity.[391]

Murat poured troops into the city to suppress the consequences of an explosion, which had been long expected. The streets were cleared with volleys of grape-shot and with charges of cavalry, but it required near three or four hours' hard fighting to convince the citizens of Madrid, that they were engaged in an attempt entirely hopeless. About the middle of the day, some members of the Spanish Government, joining themselves to the more humane part of the French generals, and particularly General Harispe, interfered to separate the combatants, when there at length ensued a cessation of these strange hostilities, maintained so long with such fury by men almost totally unarmed, against the flower of the French army.

A general amnesty was proclaimed, in defiance of which Murat caused seize upon and execute several large bands of Spaniards, made prisoners in the scuffle. They were shot in parties of forty or fifty at a time; and as the inhabitants were compelled to illuminate their houses during that dreadful night, the dead and dying might be seen lying on the pavement as clearly as at noon-day. These military executions were renewed on the two or three following days, probably with more attention to the selection of victims, for the insurgents were now condemned by French military courts. The number of citizens thus murdered is said to have amounted to two or three hundred at least.[392] On the 5th May, Murat published a proclamation, relaxing in his severity.

This crisis had been extremely violent, much more so, perhaps, than the French had ever experienced in a similar situation; but it had been encountered with such celerity, and put down with such rigour, that Murat may well have thought that the severity was sufficient to prevent the recurrence of similar scenes. The citizens of Madrid did not again, indeed, undertake the task of fruitless opposition; but, like a bull stupified by the first blow of the axe, suffered their conquerors to follow forth their fatal purpose, without resistance, but also without submission.

News came now with sufficient speed, and their tenor was such as to impress obedience on those ranks, who had rank and title to lose. Don Antonio set off for Bayonne; and on the 7th of May arrived, and was promulgated at Madrid, a declaration by the old King Charles, nominating Murat Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. The abdication of the son, less expected and more mortifying, was next made public, and a proclamation in his name and those of the Infants, Don Carlos and Don Antonio, recommended the laying aside all spirit of resistance, and an implicit obedience to the irresistible power of France.[393]

The destined plan of government was then unfolded by Murat to the Council of Castile, who, first by an adulatory address,[394] and then by a deputation of their body despatched personally to Bayonne, hailed the expected resuscitation of the Spanish monarchy as a certain and infallible consequence of the throne being possessed by a relation of the great Napoleon. Other bodies of consequence were prevailed upon to send similar addresses; and one in the name of the city of Madrid, its streets still slippery with the blood of its citizens, was despatched to express the congratulations of the capital.[395] The summons of Murat, as Lieutenant-General of King Charles, and afterwards one from Buonaparte, as possessed of the sovereign power by the cession of that feeble monarch, convoked the proposed meeting of the Notables at Bayonne on 15th June; and the members so summoned began to depart from such places as were under the immediate influence of the French armies, in order to give their attendance upon the proposed convocation.

The news of the insurrection of Madrid, on the 2d May, had in the meantime communicated itself with the speed of electricity to the most remote provinces of the kingdom; and every where, like an alarm-signal, had inspired the most impassioned spirit of opposition to the invaders. The kingdom, from all its provinces, cried out with one voice for war and vengeance; and the movement was so universal and simultaneous, that the general will seemed in a great measure to overcome or despise every disadvantage, which could arise from the suddenness of the event, and the unprepared state of the country.[396]

The occupation of Madrid might have been of more importance to check and derange the movements of the Spanish nation at large, if that capital had borne exactly the same relation to the kingdom which other metropolises of Europe usually occupy to theirs, and which Paris, in particular, bears towards France. But Spain consists of several separate provinces, formerly distinct sovereignties, which having been united under the same sovereign by the various modes of inheritance, treaty, or conquest, still retain their separate laws; and though agreeing in the general features of the national character, have shades of distinction which distinguish them from each other. Biscay, Galicia, Catalonia, Andalusia, Valencia, and other lesser dominions of Spain, each had their capitals, their internal government, and the means of providing themselves for resistance, though Madrid was lost. The patriotic spirit broke out in all parts of Spain at once, excepting where the French actually possessed large garrisons, and even there the spirit of the people was sufficiently manifest. The call for resistance usually began among the lower class of the inhabitants. But in such instances as their natural leaders and superiors declared themselves frankly for the same cause, the insurgents arranged themselves quietly in the ranks of subordination natural to them, and the measures which the time rendered necessary were adopted with vigour and unanimity. In other instances, when the persons in possession of the authority opposed themselves to the wishes of the people, or gave them reason, by tergiversation and affectation of delay, to believe they were not sincere in the cause of the country, the fury of the people broke out, and they indulged their vindictive temper by the most bloody excesses. At Valencia, in particular, before the insurrection could be organised, a wretched priest, called Calvo, had headed the rabble in the massacre of upwards of two hundred French residing within the city, who were guiltless of any offence, except their being of that country. The governor of Cadiz, Solano,[397] falling under popular suspicion, was, in like manner, put to death; and similar bloody scenes signalized the breaking out of the insurrection in different parts of the Peninsula.

Yet among these bursts of popular fury, there were mixed great signs of calmness and national sagacity. The arrangements made for organising their defence, were wisely adopted. The supreme power of each district was vested in a Junta, or Select Committee, who were chosen by the people, and in general the selection was judiciously made. These bodies were necessarily independent in their respective governments, but a friendly communication was actively maintained among them, and by common consent a deference was paid to the Junta of Seville, the largest and richest town in Spain, after Madrid, and whose temporary governors chanced, generally speaking, to be men of integrity and talents.

These provisional Juntas proceeded to act with much vigour. The rich were called upon for patriotic contributions. The clergy were requested to send the church plate to the mint. The poor were enjoined to enter the ranks of the defenders of the country, or to labour on the fortifications which the defences rendered necessary. All these calls were willingly obeyed. The Spanish soldiery, wherever situated, turned invariably to the side of the country, and the insurrection had not broken out many days, when the whole nation assumed a formidable aspect of general and permanent resistance. Let us, in the meantime, advert to the conduct of Napoleon.

That crisis, of which Buonaparte had expressed so much apprehension in his prophetic letter to Murat—the commencement of that war, which was to be so long in arriving at a close—had taken place in the streets of Madrid on the second of May; and the slaughter of the inhabitants, with the subsequent executions by the orders of Murat, had given the signal for the popular fermentation throughout Spain, which soon attained the extent we have just described.

The news[398] arrived at Bayonne on the very day on which the terrible scene took place between the Queen and her son; and the knowledge that blood had been spilled, became an additional reason for urging Ferdinand to authenticate the cession which Napoleon had previously received from the hand of the weak old king. To force forward the transaction without a moment's delay; to acquire a right such as he could instantly make use of as a pretext to employ his superior force and disciplined army, became now a matter of the last importance; and Cevallos avers, that, in order to overcome Ferdinand's repugnance, Napoleon used language of the most violent kind, commanding his captive to choose betwixt death and acquiescence in his pleasure. The French Emperor succeeded in this point, as we have already shown, and he now proceeded to the execution of his ultimate purpose, without condescending to notice that the people of Spain were a party concerned in this change of rulers, and that they were in arms in all her provinces for the purpose of opposing it.

To the French public, the insurrection of Madrid was described as a mere popular explosion, although, perhaps for the purpose of striking terror, the numbers of the Spanish who fell were exaggerated from a few hundreds to "some thousands of the worst disposed wretches of the capital,"[399] whose destruction was stated to be matter of joy and congratulation to all good citizens. On the yet more formidable insurrections through Spain in general, the Moniteur observed an absolute silence. It appeared as if the French troops had been every where received by the Spanish people as liberators; and as if the proud nation, which possessed so many ages of fame, was waiting her doom from the pleasure of the French Emperor, with the same passive spirit exhibited by the humble republics of Venice or Genoa.

Buonaparte proceeded on the same plan of disguise, and seemed himself not to notice those signs of general resistance which he took care to conceal from the public. We have already mentioned the proceedings of the Assembly of Notables, whom he affected to consider as the representatives of the Spanish nation, though summoned by a foreign prince, meeting within a foreign land, and possessing no powers of delegation enabling them, under any legal form, to dispose of the rights of the meanest hamlet in Spain. Joseph, who arrived at Bayonne on the fifth of June, was recognised by these obsequious personages; received their homage; agreed to guarantee their new constitution, and promised happiness to Spain, while he only alluded to the existence of discontents in that kingdom, by expressing his intention to remain ignorant of the particulars of such ephemeral disturbances.[400]

At length Napoleon, who had convoked this compliant body, thought proper to give them audience before their return to their own country. It is said he was tired of a farce to which few were disposed to give any weight or consequence. At least he was so much embarrassed by a consciousness of the wide distinction between the real condition in which he was placed, and that which he was desirous of being thought to hold, that he lost, on this occasion, his usual presence of mind; was embarrassed in his manner; repeated from time to time phrases which had neither meaning nor propriety; and took a brief adieu of his astonished audience, who were surprised to see how much the consciousness of the evil part he was acting had confused his usual audacity of assertion, and checked the fluency of his general style of elocution.[401]

The brothers then parted, and Joseph prepared to accomplish the destinies shaped out for him by his brother, while Napoleon returned to the capital of his augmented empire. The former did not travel fast or far, although the Moniteurs announced nothing save the general joy testified by the Spaniards at his reception, and the serenades performed by the natives on their guitars from night till morning under the windows of their new sovereign. The sounds by which he was in reality surrounded, were of a sterner and more warlike character. The tidings of insurrection, imperfectly heard and reluctantly listened to, on the northern side of the Pyrenees, were renewed with astounding and overpowering reiteration, as the intrusive King approached the scene of his proposed usurpation. He was in the condition of the huntsman, who, expecting that the tiger is at his mercy, and secured in the toils, has the unpleasing surprise of finding him free, and irritated to frenzy. It was judged proper, as Joseph possessed no talents of a military order, that he should remain at Vittoria until the measures adopted by his brother's generals might secure him a free and safe road to the capital. It is singular, that the frontier town which thus saw his early hesitation at entering upon his undertaking, was also witness to its disgraceful conclusion, by the final defeat which he received there in 1813.[402]

No doubts or forebodings attended the return of Napoleon to Paris. The eyes of the French were too much dazzled by the splendid acquisition to the Great Empire, which was supposed to have been secured by the measures taken at Bayonne, to permit them to examine the basis of violence and injustice on which it was to be founded. The union of France and Spain under kindred monarchs, had been long accounted the masterpiece of Louis XIV.'s policy; and the French now saw it, to outward appearance, on the point of accomplishment, at the simple wish of the wonderful man, who had erected France into the Mistress of the World, and whose vigour in forming plans for her yet augmenting grandeur, was only equalled by the celerity with which they were carried into execution.

Buonaparte had indeed availed himself to the utmost of that art of seducing and acting upon the imagination of the French people, in which he accused the Directory of being deficient. He had strung the popular feeling in such a manner, that it was sure to respond to almost every note which he chose to strike upon it. The love of national glory, in itself a praiseworthy attribute, becomes a vice when it rests on success accomplished by means inconsistent with honour and integrity. These unfavourable parts of the picture he kept in shade, while, as an artful picture-dealer, he threw the full lights on those which announced the augmented grandeur and happiness of France. The nation, always willing listeners to their own praises, were contented to see with the eyes of their ruler; and at no period in his life did Buonaparte appear to be in such a genuine degree the pride and admiration of France, as when returning from Bayonne, after having, in his attempt to seize upon the crown of Spain, perpetrated a very great crime, and at the same time committed an egregious folly.

The appearance of brilliant success, however, had its usual effect upon the multitude. In his return through Pau, Thoulouse, Montauban, and the other towns in that district, the Emperor was received with the honours due to a demi-god. Their antique and gloomy streets were arched over with laurels, and strewed with flowers; the external walls of their houses were covered with tapestry, rich hangings, and splendid paintings; the population crowded to meet the Emperor, and the mayors, or prefects, could scarce find language enough to exaggerate what was the actual prevailing tone of admiration towards Napoleon's person. Bourdeaux alone exhibited a melancholy and silent appearance. But Nantes and La VendÉe, so distinguished as faithful to the Bourbon cause, seemed to join in the general feeling of the period; and the population of these countries rushed to congratulate him, who had with a strong hand plucked from the throne the last reigning branch of that illustrious house. The gods, says a heathen poet, frequently punish the folly of mortals by granting their own ill-chosen wishes. In the present case, they who rejoiced in the seeming acquisition of Spain to the French empire, could not foresee that it was to cost the lives of a million of Frenchmen; and he who received their congratulations was totally unaware, that he had been digging under his own feet the mine by which he was finally to be destroyed.