TREATY BETWEEN GREAT BRITAIN AND SPAIN. SURRENDER OF CORUNA AND FERROL. SITUATION OF ROMANA’S ARMY. BUONAPARTE RETURNS TO FRANCE. PROCEEDINGS AT MADRID. OPERATIONS IN CATALONIA.

Happily for the interests of Great Britain, and for its honour, which is paramount to all interests, the British government entertained more generous hopes than its General had done, and acted upon wiser views. At the very time when the Spaniards had sustained the heaviest losses, and our own army was known to be in full retreat, a treaty was signed at London between Great Britain and the Spanish nation acting in the name of Ferdinand. It proclaimed a christian, stable, and inviolable peace between the two countries, perpetual and sincere amity, and strict alliance during the war with France; and it pronounced an entire and lasting oblivion of all acts of hostility done on either side in the course of the late wars wherein they had been engaged against each other. His Britannic Majesty engaged to assist the Spaniards to the utmost of his power, and not to acknowledge any other King of Spain, and of the Indies thereunto appertaining, than Ferdinand VII., his heirs, or such lawful successor as the Spanish nation should acknowledge; and the Spanish government engaged, on behalf of Ferdinand, never to cede to France any portion of the territories or possessions of the Spanish monarchy in any part of the world. The contracting parties bound themselves to make common cause against France, and not to make peace except by common consent. It was agreed by an additional article, that as the existing circumstances did not admit of the regular negotiation of a treaty of commerce with all the care and consideration due to so important a subject, such a negotiation should be effected as soon as it was practicable; and meantime mutual facilities afforded to the commerce of both countries, by temporary regulations, founded on reciprocal utility. Another separate article provided that the Spanish government should take the most effectual measures for preventing the Spanish squadrons, in all their ports, from falling into the power of France. Before the treaty could reach Spain, the mischief against which this latter article was intended to provide had been done in the ports of Galicia.

There were Englishmen at CoruÑa, who, when Sir John Moore was preparing to embark, doubted whether the inhabitants would protect his embarkation. In the bitterness of grief and shame they said, “should the Galicians tell us that we came into their country and by the imposing display of our well-equipped army prevented them from defending their native mountains; that they entrusted their passes to us and we abandoned them to the enemy; that disregarding any service which seemed immaterial to our own safety, we let the French occupy the approaches to their city; ... should the volunteers of CoruÑa tell us this (they said), and throw down their arms when they see us flying to our ships, ... we should have little right to complain of desertion or abandonment!” But the Spaniards are a more generous people than these doubts implied. Astonished indeed they were at the manner in which an army that had excited by its proud appearance the highest hopes as well as the highest admiration, had retreated through one of the strongest and most defensible countries in Europe; but severely as these hopes were disappointed, and cruelly as they suffered in consequence, they were not betrayed into one unworthy act or expression of resentment. The Governor of CoruÑa, D. Antonio de Alcedo, had made vigorous preparations as soon as it seemed likely that the enemy might enter Galicia. His name will be remembered as the author of a Geographical Dictionary of Spanish America, much more accurate and copious than any former work relating to those countries. It would be well for him could it be forgotten in the history of his own. While he expected that the British army would make a stand, and maintain CoruÑa and Ferrol at least, even if they abandoned the field, he held brave language, calling upon the inhabitants to supply stakes, beams, fascines and butts for additional works, and exhorting the women to busy themselves in providing sacks to be filled with earth. “If the French come,” said he in his proclamation, “I will take such measures that CoruÑa shall be not less gloriously distinguished than Gerona, Valencia, and Zaragoza. But should fortune prove adverse to us, as a chastisement from God for our sins, I will bury myself in the ruins of this fortress rather than surrender it to the enemy: thus finishing my days with honour, and trusting that all will follow my example.” Wherever in Spain a Governor was found willing to set such an example, the resolution to follow it was not wanting.

CoruÑa is a regular fortress, and might long have held out against any means which Marshal Soult could have brought against it. But when an English army with the sea open to them for succours did not think of maintaining it, it is not surprising that the inhabitants should have despaired of making a successful resistance. Their Governor was prepared to play the traitor; he had still however honour enough left not to propose a capitulation till the last transport was beyond the enemy’s power. Terms were then easily agreed on, the one party asking ?Jan. 19.? only what the other would have imposed. Alcedo stipulated for a general amnesty; that all persons in office should retain their appointments on taking an oath to the Intruder; and that the military who took that oath might either continue in the service or receive their dismissal at their own option, such as refused the oath becoming prisoners of war. He himself set the example of swearing allegiance to Joseph Buonaparte; and soon in his own person properly experienced with what fidelity the French kept their engagements, for they presently dismissed him from his government and sent him into France.

CoruÑa and Ferrol are situated on the opposite sides of a spacious bay which receives in four deep inlets the rivers Mero, Mandeu, Eume and Juvia. Ferrol is placed in the deepest and most capacious of these inlets, and nothing which skill and expense could effect had been spared during the last half century for improving the natural advantages of the harbour, and rendering it impregnable. It had thus been rendered one of the strongest naval establishments in the world, being also one of the most commodious. To force the passage is impossible, ships having for the distance of a league to file one by one along a shore defended by forts. Equal care had been taken to protect it on the land side. There were at this time eight ships of the line in the harbour, of which three were of the largest size, ... three frigates, and a considerable number of smaller vessels. From Betanzos to Ferrol was but a march of fourteen miles farther than from Betanzos to CoruÑa; and it was a topic of exultation for the French, that the English in the precipitance of their flight had not marched upon Ferrol instead of CoruÑa, where they might have occupied a fortress strong enough to be called impregnable, and have secured the squadron. It was still fresh in remembrance that when Sir James Pulteney had landed on the coast there with a part of that army by which the French were afterwards expelled from Egypt, he deemed it more prudent to re-embark his troops without attempting any thing, than to hazard an attack against so formidable a place. It is indeed almost impossible to lay regular siege to it: the nature of the ground being such that trenches cannot be opened there.

Marshal Soult found in CoruÑa a battering train sufficient for making a feint of besieging Ferrol; that it would not be in his power to take it he well knew; ... but he reckoned upon the pusillanimity and treason of the commanders, and upon the fortune of Buonaparte. The population was estimated at 8000, double the number in CoruÑa; but the peasantry from the adjacent country had flocked thither, and there were 8000 men within its walls, burning with hatred and indignation against the French, and requiring only a leader in whom they could confide. The persons in authority they suspected, and with too much reason. One of these, the admiral D. Pedro Obregon, they displaced and threw into prison; it was only removing one traitor to make room for another. D. Francisco Melgarejo, who succeeded to the command of the squadron, opened a correspondence with the enemy by water; and the military commanders, equally ready to betray their country and their trust, sent messengers round by land at the same time. Accordingly General Mermet had no sooner made a demonstration of investing the town, than the Castles of La Palma and San Martin were abandoned to him; and as the disposition of the people was of no avail against the vile purposes of their chiefs civil and military, the town ?Jan. 26.? was delivered up, upon the same terms as CoruÑa; a few additional articles being added, stipulating for the arrears of pay, as also that if resistance were made in any part of Galicia, no inhabitant of Ferrol should be compelled to serve against his countrymen. Obregon was then released from prison, and placed by the French at the head of the arsenal; he and the comrades of his treason took the oath of allegiance to the Intruder; and those persons who had been most active in arresting him and in promoting the national cause were seized and reserved for punishment.

If the Central Junta had at one time dissembled the danger of the country (or rather partaken too much of that unreasoning confidence which was one characteristic of the Spaniards), they never attempted to conceal its disasters, nor to extenuate them. On such occasions their language was frank and dignified, becoming the nation which they represented. In announcing the loss of CoruÑa and Ferrol, they pronounced the surrender of those strong places to have been cowardly and scandalous, and promised to condemn the persons who had thus betrayed their duty, to condign punishment. The enemy meantime failed not to blazon forth their triumphs in this Galician campaign: to represent the battle of CoruÑa as a victory on their part was a falsehood, which all circumstances, except those of the action itself, tended to confirm; ... and the results of the campaign had been so rapid, and apparently so complete, as to excite their own wonder. Three British regiments, they said, the 42d, 50th, and 52d, had been entirely destroyed in the action, and Sir John Moore killed in attempting to charge at their head, with the vain hope of restoring the fortune of the day. The English had lost every thing which constitutes an army, artillery, horses, baggage, ammunition, magazines, and military chests. 80 pieces of cannon they had landed, they had re-embarked no more than 12. 200,000 weight of powder, 16,000 muskets, and 2,000,000 of treasure (about £83,000) had fallen into the hands of the pursuers, and treasure yet more considerable had been thrown down the precipices along the road between Astorga and CoruÑa, where the peasantry and the soldiers were now collecting it. 5000 horses had been counted which they had slaughtered upon the way, ... 500 were taken at CoruÑa, and the carcasses of 1200 were infecting the streets when the conquerors entered that town. The English would have occupied Ferrol and seized the squadron there, had it not been for the precipitance of their retreat, and the result of the battle to which they had been brought at last. Thus then had terminated their expedition into Spain! thus, after having fomented the war in that unhappy country, had they abandoned it to its fate! In another season of the year not a man of them would have escaped; now the facility of breaking up the bridges, the rapidity of the winter torrents, shortness of days, and length of nights, had favoured their retreat. But they were driven out of the peninsula, harassed, routed, and disheartened. The kingdom of Leon, the province of Zamora, and all Galicia, which they had been so desirous to cover, were conquered and subdued; and Romana, whom they had brought from the Baltic, was, with the wreck of his army, reduced to less than 2500 men, wandering between Vigo and Santiago, and closely pursued.... This was the most stinging of all the French reproaches. Wounded to the heart as we were that an English army should so have retreated, still we knew that wherever our men had been allowed to face the enemy they had beaten them; and that, however the real history of the battle of CoruÑa might be concealed from the French people, the French army had received a lesson there, which they would remember whenever it might be our fortune to encounter them again. But that we should have drawn such a force in pursuit of Romana, who, if he were taken prisoner, would be put to death with the forms of justice, by a tyrant who made mockery of justice, was of all the mournful reflections which this disastrous expedition excited, the most painful and the most exasperating.

At this time indeed Romana’s situation might have appeared hopeless to any but a Spaniard, and few Spaniards would have regarded it with such equanimity as this high-minded nobleman. In the virtuous determination of doing his duty to the uttermost, whatever might betide, he trusted Providence with the event, and gave way to no despondent or repining thought. A detachment under G. Franceschi had pursued his army after it had separated from Sir J. Moore at Astorga, and according to the French statements taken some 3000 men, and killed a great number before he entered the Val de Orras. The charge of completing its destruction was then transferred by Soult to M. Ney, and he dispatched G. Marchand’s division and a regiment of cavalry as amply sufficient for the intended service. Romana left his vanguard under D. Gabriel de Mendizabal to cover the Val de Orras, and the Riberas del Sil; ... one division was posted at Pueblo de Tribes and Mendoya, to support him if he should be attacked, and defend the bridge over the Bivey; the others were distributed where they could find subsistence, and at the same time afford support to the more advanced.

The country was in a state of the utmost alarm. The Vizconde de Quintanilla, one of the deputies for Leon to the Central Junta, had been sent to Romana’s army, and disagreeing with him before the retreat commenced, had preceded him, in the hope of taking some measures which might be serviceable to the common cause. Manifest as it was that Sir J. Moore had given up that cause in his heart as hopeless, it had never been apprehended that he would retreat with such precipitation, and abandon CoruÑa and Ferrol to their fate; ports the maintenance of which was of so great importance to Great Britain as long as she took any part in the contest. Of all the Spaniards the Galicians had least reason to fear that the war would be brought to their own doors; and their consternation was extreme when they saw the enemy among them. Quintanilla repaired to Santiago, from which city the Archbishop had fled, having been insulted by the people, and dreading farther outrages from the insubordination which these dreadful times produced. As it seemed that nothing could be done for resisting the enemy, Quintanilla endeavoured at least to disappoint them of their expected booty, and proposed that the church plate should be removed. In such treasure that city was peculiarly rich, having been during many centuries more in vogue than any other place of pilgrimage in Europe; but his advice was rejected, upon the ground that the populace, who were suspicious of whatever was done, would not suffer it.

Romana’s was a buoyant spirit, not to be depressed by any dangers. He had read the British General rightly, but his confidence in the British character was unshaken; and in the expectation that something would be attempted upon the coast, he moved one of his divisions from Mazeda to Taboada and other villages near Lugo, for the purpose of observing and harassing the enemy. This movement was ordered the day before the battle of CoruÑa. On the afternoon of the 17th he was apprised that 5000 French were at St. Esteban de Ribas del Sil, three leagues from Orense, and in the night advice came from Mendizabal that he had been attacked by a detachment moving upon that city. Romana reconnoitred this force; they were plainly waiting for reinforcements, but even in their present state he was not strong enough to resist them; for as soon as he entered Galicia, the whole of the new levies had dispersed: they belonged to that province, and feeling themselves within reach of home, believed with some reason that they could provide better for themselves than it was in the power of their general and their government to provide for them.

At his last interview with Sir J. Moore it had been arranged that the British army should make its stand at Villafranca, and there defend the entrance into Galicia, while the Marquis should endeavour to collect and reform his troops upon the river Sil. But because this resolution, fatally for Sir J. Moore, had been abandoned, Romana’s left flank and rear were exposed to the enemy. They were at leisure to direct their efforts against him, and he saw that the only way of escape open for him was by Monterry. In that direction therefore he moved, and fixed his head-quarters on the 21st at Villaza, a league from that town, on the side of Portugal. Here, ?Blake leaves the army.? to his surprise and displeasure, he found that Blake, who had continued with the army till this day, had left it without giving him any intimation of his departure, taken with him the officers whom he could trust, and left directions for others to follow him through Portugal. The camp-marshal, D. Rafael Martinengo, was missing also: his conduct, though irregular, was afterwards honourably explained; he had gone to collect stragglers. With regard to General Blake, serving only as an individual after he had been removed from the command, he was at liberty to retire whither and when he pleased, ... but not thus, in a manner derogatory to the commander, subversive of discipline, and injurious to the army. His disappearance, and that of the officers who followed him, increased the distrust and despondency of the troops; and the reports which they spread to excuse themselves for thus withdrawing, contributed still farther to dishearten the people. “I assure your excellency,” said Romana, when he communicated this to the war minister, “that I never gave a more trying proof of patriotism, love to my King, and gratitude to the government which in his name has conferred so many honours upon me, than in taking upon myself the command of this army in such circumstances, and retaining it, though abandoned by those who ought to have assisted me. I know not wherein this patriotism consists which is so loudly vaunted ... any reverse, any mishap, prostrates the minds of these people, and, thinking only of saving their own persons, they sacrifice their country, and compromise their commander.”

The next intelligence was of Sir J. Moore’s death in action with M. Soult. The first thought which occurred to Romana was that this would not have happened if they had given battle to that very Soult at SaldaÑa. It was his firm persuasion that if the British force and his ill-fated troops had been united in October, they might have driven the French beyond the Pyrenees. The British had now actually embarked. CoruÑa and Ferrol were still points of hope; and if the governors there performed their duty, he could yet render them some service in the field. With this view he moved to cover the province of Tuy; but having reached La Guironda, he learnt in the night that the French with superior forces were at hand. His troops, though well equal to the business of harassing an enemy that should be otherwise employed, would have been lost if brought to action; he returned therefore to Oimbra, with the intention, if he should be pursued, of entering Portugal, and making through Tras-os-Montes for Ciudad Rodrigo, there to refit his army, or reinforce some other with the remnant that was left. A little respite was allowed him, for the French did not think the wreck of this army of sufficient consequence to fatigue themselves by pursuing and hunting it down. Where he and his handful of fugitives were secreting themselves they knew not, and on his part Romana knew as little what was passing in other parts of Spain.

Buonaparte had never appeared so joyous as when he left Madrid with the expectation of surprising Sir John Moore. He had intended ?De Pradt, 211.? to go to Lisbon, and the troops had actually received orders to hold themselves in readiness for beginning their march toward that capital, but the desire of encountering a British army made him change his intention; and Lisbon was thus doubly preserved from a second subjugation, for this movement interposed between the British and Portugal, and if Sir J. Moore had retreated thither, he would have abandoned Lisbon as he did CoruÑa. When there was no longer a hope of overtaking the English, Buonaparte stopped at Astorga; it was more consistent with his dignity that a detachment of his army should hunt them to the coast, than that he should continue the pursuit in person. Beyond that city, therefore, he would not have proceeded, even if dispatches had not reached him there which recalled him into France. He had designs against Austria, concerning which the Emperor Alexander had been deceived at Erfurt: his intention had been to complete the easy subjugation of Spain before he began to execute these further projects of insatiable ambition; but he was informed that Austria, instead of waiting for the blow, was preparing to avail herself of the advantage which the Spanish war afforded her. The news was not unwelcome to him; for he had now entertained a new train of ambitious and perfidious thoughts, which made him desirous of leaving Spain. From Astorga he turned back to Valladolid, and remained there a few days to make his last arrangements before he returned into France.

An attachment to his family was almost the only human part of Buonaparte’s character; but when any object of aggrandisement presented itself to his all-grasping desires, that attachment stood as little in his way as the obligations of truth, honour, and justice. He had been sincere in his intention of giving Spain to Joseph, while he thought it an easy gift, and one which in its results would prove beneficial to the giver. The resistance which had been made to the intrusion, and the reverses which his arms had for a time experienced, disturbed and mortified him; and in that temper of mind which escapes self-condemnation by reproaching others, he imputed to Joseph’s flight from Madrid, as a consequence, the very spirit of resistance which had rendered that measure necessary for his own preservation. For this reason there had been no cordiality at their meeting; he had treated Joseph with disrespect, as well as coldness, and leaving him in the rear, had issued edicts by his own authority, and in his own name. This had been resented by Joseph, as far as one who was the receiver of a stolen crown could resent it: having been made King, he represented it was proper he should appear to be such; to debase him was not the way of rendering him more acceptable to a proud and high-minded nation. In addition to this there was another cause of discontent between them. Whatever country Buonaparte entered, that country was made to support his army; war was to him no expense, ... the cost fell always upon his enemies or his allies. Thus he had expected to proceed in Spain; ... but even when he was master of Madrid the intrusive government had no other revenue than the duties which were paid at his gates, and Joseph, instead of paying his brother’s armies, looked to him for the maintenance of his own court. Joseph had represented also the impolicy of continuing to exasperate the people by a system of military exactions; and Napoleon, impatient of any contradiction, instantly perceived that a King of Spain, whether of the Buonaparte or the Bourbon dynasty, must have a Spanish feeling incompatible with that entire subserviency to himself which he expected and required. Having so lately and so solemnly guaranteed the integrity of Spain, and proclaimed his brother king, he could not at once subvert his own arrangements; ?De Pradt, 207–225.? but he avowed to M. de Pradt at this time that when he had given that kingdom, he did not understand the value of the present: follies would be committed, he said, which would throw it again into his hands, and he would then divide it into five viceroyalties.

He apprehended no difficulty in this: any military opposition which could be attempted he despised, the more entirely because of the ease with which the Spanish armies had been dispersed, ... and the moral obstacles he was still incapable of appreciating. A dispatch reached him from Galicia, and upon reading it he said to those about him, “Every thing proceeds well. Romana cannot resist a fortnight longer. The English will never make another effort; and three months hence the war will be at an end.” One of the marshals hinted at the character of the people and of the country. “It is a La VendÉe,” he replied; “I have tranquillized La VendÉe. Calabria also was in a state of insurrection, ... wherever there are mountains there are insurgents; but the kingdom of Naples is tranquil now. It is not enough to command an army well, ... one must have general views. The continental system is not the same as in the time of Frederick; the great powers must absorb the smaller. The priests have considerable influence here, and they use it to exasperate the people: but the Romans conquered them; the Moors conquered them; and they are not near so fine a people now as they were then. I will settle the government firmly; I will interest the nobles, and I will cut down the people with grape-shot. What do they want? the Prince of Asturias? Half the nation object to him: ... besides he is dead to them. There is no longer any dynasty to oppose to me. They say the population is against us. Why Spain is a perfect solitude, ... there are not five men to a square league. Besides, if it ?Jones’s Account of the War, vol. i. 165.? be a question of numbers, I will pour all Europe into their country. They have to learn what a first-rate power can effect.” With this flagitious determination the remorseless tyrant returned into France.

Before he left Madrid to march against the English, an address framed by the traitors of that city in the name of the magistrates and citizens was presented to him by the Corregidor. They thanked him for his gracious clemency, that in the midst of conquest he had thought of the safety and welfare of the conquered, and forgiven all which had been done during the absence of Joseph, their king: and they entreated that it might please him to grant them the favour of seeing King Joseph once more among them, to the end that under his laws that capital and the whole kingdom might enjoy the happiness which they expected from the benevolence of their new sovereign’s character. The tyrant replied to this in one of his characteristic harangues. “I am pleased,” he said, “with the sentiments of the city of Madrid. I regret the injuries she has suffered, and am particularly happy that, under existing circumstances, I have been able to effect her deliverance, and to protect her from great calamities, and have accomplished what I owed to myself and my nation. Vengeance has had its due: it has fallen upon ten of the principal culprits; ... the rest have entire and absolute forgiveness.” He then touched upon the reforms by which he thought to reconcile the Spaniards to a foreign yoke. “I have preserved the spiritual orders, but with a limitation of the number of monks: they who were influenced by a divine call shall remain in their cloisters; with regard to those whose call was doubtful, or influenced by worldly considerations, I have fixed their condition in the class of secular priests. Out of the surplus of monastic property I have provided for the maintenance of the pastors, that important and useful branch of the clergy. I have suppressed that court which was a subject of complaint to Europe and the present age. Priests may guide the minds of men, but must exercise no temporal or corporal jurisdiction over the citizens. I have annulled those privileges which the grandees usurped during times of civil war. I have abolished feudal rights, and henceforth every one may set up inns, ovens, mills, employ himself in fishing and rabbit-hunting, and give free scope to his industry, provided he respects the laws. The selfishness, wealth, and prosperity of a small number of individuals were more injurious to your agriculture than the heat of the Dog-days. All peculiar jurisdictions were usurpations, and at variance with the rights of the nation. I have abolished them. As there is but one God, so should there be in a state but one judicial power.

“There is no obstacle,” he continued, “which can long resist the execution of my resolutions. But what transcends my power is this, to consolidate the Spaniards as one nation, under the sway of the king, should they continue to be affected with those principles of hatred to France which the partizans of England and the enemies of the continent have infused into the bosom of Spain. I can establish no nation, no king, no independence of the Spaniards, if the king be not assured of their attachment and fidelity. The Bourbons can no longer reign in Europe. The divisions of the royal family were contrived by the English. It was not the dethronement of King Charles and of the favourite, that the Duke del Infantado, that tool of England, had in view. The intention was, to establish the predominant influence of England in Spain; a senseless project, the result of which would have been a perpetual continental war. No power under the influence of England can exist on the continent. If there be any that entertain such a wish, the wish is absurd, and will sooner or later occasion their fall. It would be easy for me, should I be compelled to adopt that measure, to govern Spain, by establishing as many viceroys in it as there are provinces. Nevertheless, I do not refuse to abdicate my rights of conquest in favour of the king, and to establish him in Madrid, as soon as the 30,000 citizens which this capital contains, the clergy, nobility, merchants, and lawyers shall have declared their fidelity, set an example to the provinces, enlightened the people, and made the nation sensible that their existence and prosperity essentially depend upon a king and a free constitution, favourable to the people, and hostile only to the selfishness and haughty passions of the grandees. If such be the sentiments of the inhabitants, let the 30,000 citizens assemble in the churches; let them, in the presence of the holy sacrament, take an oath, not only with their mouths, but also with their hearts, and without any jesuitical equivocation, that they promise support, attachment, and fidelity to their king; let the priests in the confessional and the pulpit, the merchants in their correspondence, the lawyers in their writings and speeches, infuse these sentiments into the people: ... then will I surrender my right of conquest, place the king upon the throne, and make it my pleasing task to conduct myself as a true friend of the Spaniards. The present generation may differ in their opinions; the passions have been too much brought into action; but your grandchildren will bless me as their renovator; they will reckon the day when I appeared among you among their memorable festivals; and from that day will the happiness of Spain date its commencement. Thus,” he concluded, addressing himself to the Corregidor, “you are informed of the whole of my determination. Consult with your fellow-citizens, and consider what part you will choose; but whatever it be, make your choice with sincerity, and tell me only your genuine sentiments.”

There was something more detestable in this affectation of candour and generosity than in his open and insolent violence. “Consult! and consider what part you will choose, and make your choice with sincerity!”... The Spanish nation had made their choice! They had made it at Baylen and at Reynosa, at Cadiz and at Madrid, at Valencia and at Zaragoza; for life or for death; deliberately, and yet as if with one impulse, ... with enthusiasm, and yet calmly, ... had that noble people nobly, and wisely, and religiously made their heroic choice. They had written it in blood, their own and their oppressors’. Its proofs were to be seen in deserted houses and depopulated towns, in the blackened walls of hamlets which had been laid waste with fire, in the bones which were bleaching upon the mountains of Biscay, and in the bodies, French and Spaniard, which were at that hour floating down the tainted Ebro! Here, in the capital, their choice had been recorded; they who had been swept down by grape-shot in its streets, or bayoneted in the houses, they who had fallen in the heat of battle before its gates, and they who in cold blood had been sent in droves to execution, alike had borne witness to that choice, and confirmed it, and rejoiced in it with their dying breath. And this tyrant called upon the people of Madrid now to tell him their sentiments, ... now when their armies were dispersed, and they themselves, betrayed and disarmed, were surrounded by his legions!

Registers were opened in every quarter, and, if French accounts could be believed, 30,000 fathers of families rushed thither in crowds, and signed a supplication to the conqueror, entreating him to put an end to their misfortunes, by granting them his august brother Joseph for their king. If this impossible eagerness had really been manifested, it could admit of no other solution than that the people of Madrid, bitterly as they detested and heartily as they despised Joseph, yet thought it a less evil to be governed by him than by the tyrant himself, ... for this was the alternative allowed them. But a census of this kind, as it is called, like those which coloured Buonaparte’s assumption, first of the consulship for life, and then of an hereditary throne, was easily procured, when neither threats, nor persuasions, nor fraud, nor violence were spared.

The ceremony of voting and taking the oath was delayed till after Buonaparte’s departure, “because,” said the French journalists, “a suspicion of fear might else have attached to it. The act was now more noble, as being entirely free, ... as being confirmed by the weightiest considerations whereby a people can be influenced, their interest, their happiness, and their glory.” With such language the better part of the French nation were insulted, and the unreflecting deceived, while all knowledge of the real state of things was shut out by the vigilance of a government, conscious enough of wickedness to know that it required concealment. The votes were then exacted, the host was exposed in all the churches, and the priests were compelled to receive from their countrymen at the altar, and as they believed in the actual and bodily presence of their Saviour and their God, a compulsory oath of allegiance to the Intruder. The Catholic system has a salvo in such cases; and the same priests who administered the oath were believed by the French themselves to have released those who took it from its obligations.

The higher ranks in Madrid had shown themselves from the commencement of these troubles as deficient in public spirit as they had long been in private virtues. Scarcely an individual in that capital who was distinguished for rank, or power, or riches, had stood forward in the national cause, so fallacious is the opinion that those persons will be most zealous in the defence of their country, who have what is called the largest stake in it. Addresses from all the councils and corporate bodies of the metropolis were dispatched to Buonaparte while he tarried at Valladolid, ... all alike abject, and all soliciting that they might be indulged with the presence of their king. The Council of state, by a deputy, expressed its homage of thanks for the generous clemency of the conqueror. “What gratitude,” said he, “does it not owe you for having snatched Spain from the influence of those destructive councils which fifty years of misfortune had prepared for it; for having rid it of the English armies, who threatened to fix upon its territories the theatre of continental war! Grateful for these benefits, the Council of state has still another supplication to lay at the feet of your majesty. Deign, sire, to commit to our loyalty your august brother, our lord and King. Permit him to re-enter Madrid, and to take into his hands the reins of government; that under the benevolent sway of this august prince, whose mildness, wisdom, and justice, are known to all Europe, our widowed and desolate monarchy may find a father in the best of Kings.” D. Bernardo Yriarte spoke for the Council of the Indies. “It entirely submits itself,” he said, “to the decrees of your Majesty, and to those of your august brother, the King our master, who is to create the happiness of Spain, as well by the wisdom and the assemblage of the lofty virtues which he possesses, as by the powerful support of the hero of Europe, upon whom the Council of the Indies founds its hopes of seeing those ties reunited, which ought always to unite the American possessions with the mother country.” The Council of finance requested that it might behold in Madrid the august and beloved brother of the Emperor, expecting from his presence the felicity and repose of the kingdom. The Council of war supplicated him, through an effect of his august beneficence, to confer upon the capital the felicity of the presence of their sovereign, Joseph I. This was the theme upon which all the deputations rung their changes. The Council of marine alone adding an appropriate flattery to the same request, expressed its hope of contributing to the liberty of the seas.

Joseph meantime had exercised his nominal sovereignty in passing decrees. By one the circulation of French money was permitted till farther measures concerning it should be announced; by another all persons entitled to any salary or pension from the government were deprived of it till they should have taken the oath of allegiance to him. He made an attempt also in the autumn, before reinforcements entered Spain, to place the persons belonging to his army under civil protection: and for this purpose required that in every district occupied by the army, from eight to thirty stand of arms should be deposited in every town-house, and an equal number of the respectable inhabitants registered to serve as an escort therewith for any officer or serjeant either on his road as an invalid, or in the execution of any commission. They were also to act as a patrol, for the purpose of preventing any insults or outrages which might be offered to the military, and if men did not volunteer for this service, which would entitle them to pay and rewards, the magistracy were to fix upon those whom they deemed fit to discharge it. He created also a new military order by the name of the Orden Militar de EspaÑa. The Grand Mastership was reserved to himself and his successors; and the two oldest Captains General of the Army and the Fleet were always to be Grand Chancellor and Grand Treasurer: but the order itself was open to soldiers of every rank who should deserve it. A pension of 1000 reales vellon was attached to the order, and the device was a crimson star, bearing on one side the Lion of Leon with this motto ... Virtute et Fide; on the other the Castle of Castille with Joseph Napoleo, Hispaniarum et Indiarum Rex, instituit. Decrees were also issued for raising new regiments, one to be called the Royal Foreign, and the other the first of the Irish Brigade.

On the 22d of January the Intruder re-entered that city, from which he had been driven by the indignation of a whole people. At break of day his approach was announced by the discharge of an hundred cannon; a fit symphony, announcing at once to the people by what right he claimed the throne, and by what means he must sustain himself upon it. From the gate of Atocha to the church of St. Isidro, and from thence to the palace, the streets were lined with French troops, and detachments were stationed in every part of the city, more for the purpose of overawing the inhabitants than of doing honour to this wretched puppet of majesty, who, while he submitted to be the instrument of tyranny over the Spaniards, was himself a slave. The cavalry advanced to the Plaza de las Delicias to meet him; there he mounted on horseback, and a procession was formed of his aides-de-camp and equerries, the grand major domo, the grand master of the ceremonies, the grand master of the hounds, with all the other personages of the drama of royalty, the members of the different councils, and those grandees who, deserting the cause of their country, stained now with infamy names which had once been illustrious in the Spanish annals. At the gate of Atocha the governor of Madrid was ready to present him with the keys. As soon as he entered another discharge of an hundred cannon proclaimed his presence, and all the bells struck up. He proceeded through the city to the church of St. Isidro, where the suffragan Bishop, in his pontificals, the canons, vicars, and rectors, the vicar-general, and the prelates of the religious orders, received him at the gate, and six of the most ancient canons conducted him to the throne. Then the suffragan Bishop addressed him in the only language which might that day be used, the language of servility, adulation, impiety, and treason. The Intruder’s reply was in that strain of hypocrisy which marked the usurpation of the Buonapartes with new and peculiar guilt. This was his speech:

“Before rendering thanks to the Supreme Arbiter of Destinies, for my return to the capital of this kingdom entrusted to my care, I wish to reply to the affectionate reception of its inhabitants, by declaring my secret thoughts in the presence of the living God, who has just received your oath of fidelity to my person. I protest, then, before God, who knows the hearts of all, that it is my duty and conscience only which induce me to mount the throne, and not my own private inclination. I am willing to sacrifice my own happiness, because I think you have need of me for the establishment of yours. The unity of our holy religion, the independence of the monarchy, the integrity of its territory, and the liberty of its citizens, are the conditions of the oath which I have taken on receiving the crown. It will not be disgraced upon my head; and if, as I have no doubt, the desires of the nation support the efforts of its king, I shall soon be the most happy of all, because you through me will all be happy.”

Two rows of banqueting tables were laid out in the nave of the church, where the civil and military officers of the intruder, and the members of the councils, were seated according to their respective ranks. High mass was performed by the chapel-royal, and a solemn Te Deum concluded the mockery. That done, Joseph proceeded with the same form to the palace, and a third discharge of an hundred guns proclaimed his arrival there. On the day which followed this triumphal entry, its ostentatious joy, and the affected humanity and philanthropy of his professions, he issued a decree for the formation of special military tribunals, which should punish all persons with death who took arms against him, or enlisted others for the patriotic cause: the gallows was to be the mode of punishment, and over the door of the sufferer’s house a shield was to be placed, for infamy, recording the cause and manner of his ignominious death. Any innkeeper or householder in whose dwelling a man should be enlisted for the Junta’s service should undergo the same fate; but if they gave information, 400 reales were promised them, or an equivalent reward. The very day that this decree was issued, mingling, like his flagitious brother, words of blasphemy with deeds of blood, he addressed a circular epistle to the Archbishops and Bishops of the realm, commanding them to ?Circular epistle to the clergy.? order a Te Deum in all the churches of their respective dioceses. “In returning to the capital (this was his language), our first care, as well as first duty, has been to prostrate ourselves at the feet of that God who disposes of crowns, and to devote to him our whole existence for the felicity of the brave nation which he has entrusted to our care. For this only object of our thoughts we have addressed to him our humble prayers. What is an individual amid the generations who cover the earth? What is he in the eyes of the Eternal, who alone penetrates the intentions of men, and according to them determines their elevation? He who sincerely wishes the welfare of his fellows serves God, and omnipotent goodness protects him. We desire that, in conformity with these dispositions, you direct the prayers of the faithful whom Providence has entrusted to you. Ask of God, that his spirit of peace and wisdom may descend upon us, that the voice of passion may be stifled in meditating upon such sentiments as ought to animate us, and which the general interests of this monarchy inspire: that religion, tranquillity, and happiness may succeed to the discords to which we are now exposed. Let us return thanks to God for the success which he has been pleased to grant to the arms of our august brother and powerful ally the Emperor of the French, who has had no other end in supporting our rights by his power than to procure to Spain a long peace, founded on her independence.”

A heavy load of national guilt lay upon the nations of the Peninsula; and those persons, who, with well-founded faith, could see and understand that the moral government of the world is neither less perfect, nor less certain in its course, than that material order which science has demonstrated, ... they perceived in this dreadful visitation the work of retribution. The bloody conquests of the Portugueze in India were yet unexpiated; the Spaniards had to atone for extirpated nations in Cuba and Hayti, and their other islands, and on the continent of America for cruelties and excesses not less atrocious than those which they were appointed to punish. Vengeance had not been exacted for the enormities perpetrated in the Netherlands, nor for that accursed tribunal which, during more than two centuries, triumphed both in Spain and Portugal, to the ineffaceable and eternal infamy of the Romish church. But the crimes of a nation, like the vices of an individual, bring on their punishment in necessary consequence, ... so righteously have all things been ordained. From the spoils of India and America the two governments drew treasures which rendered them independent of the people for supplies; and the war which their priesthood waged against knowledge and reformation succeeded in shutting them out from these devoted countries. A double despotism, of the throne and of the altar, was thus established, and the result was a state of degradation, which nothing less than the overthrow of both, by some moral and political earthquake, loosening the very foundations of society, could remove. Such a convulsion had taken place, and the sins of the fathers were visited upon the ?Condition of Madrid.? children. Madrid, the seat of Philip II., “that sad intelligencing tyrant,” who from thence, as our great Milton said, “mischieved the world with his mines of Ophir,” that city which once aspired to be the mistress of the world, and had actually tyrannized over so large a part of it, was now itself in thraldom. The Spanish cloak, which was the universal dress of all ranks, was prohibited in the metropolis of Spain, and no Spaniard was allowed to walk abroad in the evening, unless he carried a light. All communication between the capital and the southern provinces, the most fertile and wealthiest of the kingdom, was cut off. Of the trading part of the community, therefore, those who were connected with the great commercial cities of the south coast were at once ruined, and they whose dealings lay with the provinces which were the seat of war were hardly more fortunate. The public creditors experienced that breach of public faith which always results from a violent revolution. The intrusive government acknowledged the debt, and gave notice of its intention to pay them by bills upon Spanish America: for this there was a double motive, the shame of confessing that the Intruder was unable to discharge the obligations of the government to whose rights and duties he affected to succeed, and the hope of interesting the holders of these bills in his cause: but so little possibility was there of his becoming master of the Indies, that the mention of such bills only provoked contempt. While commercial and funded property was thus destroyed, landed property was of as little immediate value to its owner. No remittances could be made to the capital from that part of Spain which was not yet overrun; and the devastations had been so extensive every where as to leave the tenant little means of paying the proprietor. These were the first-fruits of that prosperity which the Buonapartes promised to the Spaniards, ... these were the blessings which Joseph brought with him to Madrid! He, meantime, was affecting to participate in rejoicings, and receiving the incense of adulation, in that city where the middle classes were reduced to poverty by his usurpation, and where the wives whom he had widowed, and the mothers whom he had made childless, mingled with their prayers for the dead, supplications for vengeance upon him as the author of their miseries. The theatre was fitted up to receive him, the boxes were lined with silk, the municipality attended him to his seat, he was presented with a congratulatory poem upon his entrance, and the stage curtain represented the ?1809.
February.? Genius of Peace with an olive-branch in his left hand, and a torch in his right, setting fire to the attributes of war. Underneath was written, ?Feb. 18.? “Live happy, Sire! reign and pardon!” At the very time when this precious specimen of French taste complimented the Intruder upon his clemency, an extraordinary criminal Junta was formed, even the military tribunals not being found sufficiently extensive in their powers for the work of extermination which was begun. It was “for trial of assassins, robbers, recruiters in favour of the insurgents, those who maintained correspondence with them, and who spread false reports.” Persons apprehended upon these charges were to be tried within twenty-four hours, and sentenced to the gallows, and the sentence executed without appeal.