title of royal highness, with all the honours and prerogatives which the Princes of the Blood enjoyed, should be granted to him in France: his descendants should inherit the titles of Prince and Serene Highness, and hold the same rank as the princedignitaries of the empire. 3, 4. The palaces, parks, and farms of Navarre, with 50,000 acres of the woods dependent on them, should be given to him, free from incumbrance, in full property for ever; and pass, in default of his heirs, to those of his brother and uncle, in succession: and the title of prince should be conferred, by letters patent and particular, upon the collateral heir to whom this property might revert.— 5, 6. 400,000 livres of appanage rent on the treasury of France, payable in equal monthly portions, should be settled on him, with reversion, in like manner, to the Infantes, and their posterity; and a life-rent of 600,000 should be given the prince, the

half remaining to the princess, his consort, if he left one to survive him. 7. The same rank and titles should be assigned to the Infantes and their descendants as to the prince; they should continue to enjoy the revenues of their commanderies in Spain, (as had been agreed in the.convention with Charles,) and an appanage rent of 400,000 livres, (as also there stipulated,) should be settled on them in perpetuity, with reversion to the issue of Ferdinand.* No mention was made in the treaty of the Queen of Etruria and her son, a boy of eight years old, who, by the doubly-villanous treaty of Fontainbleau, was to have been made king of Northern Lusitania. Involved in what may truly be called the common destruction of their house, they were seized with the Infantes at Madrid, and escorted to Bayonne; and the whole of this unhappy family, now that the mockery of negociation was at an end, were sent into the interior of France.

THUS had Buonaparte succeeded in dispossessing the house of Bourbon of the throne of Spain. The whole of that family (with the exception of the Infante Don Pedro,* nephew to Charles IV., who had fortunately been adopted by the Portugueze court, and accompanied them to Brazil,) were in his power as prisoners; and, in the character of an ally, he had secured for himself the passes of the Pyrenees, seized the important city of Barcelona, and the strongest places upon the frontier, marched his armies into the very heart of the kingdom, and obtained possession of the capital. The train of perfidy by which he had thus far accomplished his purpose, is unexampled even in the worst ages of history. The whole transaction was, on his part, a

business of pure, unmingled wickedness, unprovoked, unextenuated, equally detestable in its motive, its means, and its end.

The Corsican had now displayed himself in his true character. For the mere, selfish, vulgar ambition, of aggrandizing his own family, by transferring his brother Joseph from the throne of Naples to that of Madrid, he had committed an act of usurpation, as impolitic, as it was iniquitous. Spain had been the faithful ally of France,-let Trafalgar witness how fatally for herself! Her fleets were at the disposal of Buonaparte; her armies were occupied in his service in Portugal, and upon the Baltic; her treasures were at his demand, as completely as if Charles had been a tributary king. France

then could gain nothing by this change of dynasty; and the loss of all the advantages which she derived from Spanish America, was hazarded by it, even if Spain herself should passively submit to the insolent intrusion of a stranger, a low-born, low-minded adventurer, base and bloody, who had renewed at Naples an exhibition of those tortures which make the judge as much to be abhorred as the criminal, however great the crime; a wretch, elevated for the mere accident of consanguinity, in an age when all the adventurers by whom he was surrounded, had raised themselves by some species of talent, either in the cabinet or the field: his only merit was, that he was the brother of Napoleon Buonaparte, and sufficiently unprincipled, mean, and cruel, to be his tool and executioner.

As for the pretext, that there existed an English party in Spain, it was notoriously false. If nations who were groaning under the manifold miseries which a bad government occasions, could have looked to England for assistance in their hopes of reform, the continent of Europe would not at this day have been under the iron yoke of France, and half the unhappy men who are forced into the tyrant's armies, slaves themselves, to become the instruments of enslaving others, would have been fighting in their own righteous cause against him. Those Spaniards who felt and lamented the degradation of Spain, founded their hopes of effecting its regeneration upon Buonaparte. There was not any possible way by which he could so effectually have attached the Spaniards to their alliance with France, secured their affections, and strengthened his own immediate and individual interests, (if the vulgarest ambition

had not blinded him,) as by' connecting his own family with the royal house of Spain, by the projected marriage with Ferdinand, and suffering him and his ministers to make those reforms which would soon have restored to health and strength, a country that was still sound at heart. Buonaparte has never had it in his power to produce such great and extensive good as this opportunity invited, without risk, effort, or any contingent inconvenience. He had only to say, let these things be, and the work of progressive reformation would have begun in Spain and in Spanish America, while he, like a presiding God, might have looked on, and have received the blessings of both countries for his benignant influence.-But no thought of good seems ever to have entered into this tyrant's heart. Like an incarnation of the evil principle, whatever he does originates and ends in evil.

The artifices by which he had thus far accomplished his purpose were of the basest kind. Never, perhaps, was any plot of perfidious ambition so coarsely planned. The term of policy cannot be applied to it; even cunning implies more exertion of talent than was displayed in this whole infamous transaction. Nothing more was required than to employ falsehood and violence equally without remorse; to repeat professions and protestations enough to deceive the prince; and to shed blood enough to intimidate the people. The former object had been effected; and Murat, perceiving a spirit of patriotism in the Spaniards, which neither he nor his master had expected, was cager to give the word for slaughter. He seems, as soon as he entered Madrid, resolved

to make them feel that they were no longer a free and independent nation, but that they must learn obedience to a military yoke. A French governor of the city had been apApril 14. pointed; a French patrole established; and notice was given, that, as the greatcoats for the French troops had not arrived, the heads of the police were to call at every house to receive a contribution of those articles, every person being expected to contribute as many as he could. After the departure of Ferdinand from Madrid, the anxiety and agitation of the people hourly increased;-they knew that he had expected to meet Buonaparte at Burgos; and the tidings that he had crossed the frontier, and proceeded to Bayonne, excited in them as much alarm as wonder. An extraordinary courier arrived every evening from that city;-the intelligence which he brought was never published in the Gazette, but circulated as extracts from private correspondence: the first of these accounts consisted solely of details of the honours with which Ferdinand had been received by the emperor. Subsequent ones became each less satisfactory than the last; hints were given that all was not going on well; and the intentions of the tyrant became more and more developed, till it could no longer be doubted that Ferdinand was to be deprived of his

crown.

The courier, who was expected on Saturday, the 30th of April, did not arrive he was still expected on the following evening, and great multitudes assembled at the Puerto del Sol, and in the other streets near the post-office, anxiously waiting for his news. The French garrison were under arms all that night;-their

commanders, "cool spectators of these things, according to their own relation, saw a crisis approaching, and saw it with pleasure." The following morning had May 2. been fixed on for the departure of the poor queen of Etru ria and her brother, the Infante Don Francisco de Paula, for Bayonne. Many people collected before the palace. It was reported, that the Infante Don Antonio, the president of the provisional government, had been desired, or rather ordered by Murat, to join his brother and nephew at Bayonne; the French general intimating at the same time, that he expected to be appointed regent during his absence: but the infante refused to obey. He had received his power, he said, from the king, his nephew, and only to him in person would he resign it; and he would not abandon his post. In consequence of this act of firmness, Murat recalled some troops to Madrid, which had been ordered to a different station some few days before, and entered the city with them that morning, intending, as was supposed, to seize the person of the infante, and make himself regent. Apprehending this, the people were dis posed to resist force by force. A rumour arose, that one of the carriages, when it drove up to the gate, was intended for Don Antonio; and the populace, determined that they would not suffer the last of the royal family to be taken from them, espe cially as he had been entrusted with the government during their king's absence, cut the traces of the carriage, and forced it back into the palace-yard. Being, however, 28sured that Don Antonio was not to leave Madrid, they permitted it again to be yoked, and brought out.

Murat sent one of his aid-de-camps to inquire into this disturbance: the people were disposed to treat him roughly, but some Spanish officers interfered, and rescued him from their hands. The carriages with the queen of Etruria and her brother were now suffered to proceed; the latter, a boy of fourteen, was crying bitterly, and manifestly unwilling to go. This both affected and enraged the people. At this moment, the aid-de-camp returned with a party of French soldiers, and the scene of bloodshed began.

The Spanish troops were locked up in their barracks, and thus prevented from joining the people; some of their officers being, perhaps, in the French interest, and others foreseeing the inevitable issue of so unequal a contest. The people behaved with great spirit: there is, indeed, scarcely upon record an instance of an attempt so brave, and at the same time so hopeless, when all the circumstances are considered. As fast as the alarm spread, every man of the lower ranks, who could find any kind of weapon, armed himself, and hastened to the nearest scene of action. Numbers of the French fell, and their arms were seized by the Spaniards;-but what could the people of a metropolis effect against 60,000 troops in their city and the immediate vicinity, prepared for this insurrection, and eager to take advantage of it; they themselves half armed, without leaders, and without any concerted plan? The French poured into the city from all sides with their flying artillery; their cavalry repeatedly charged the populace; and thirty discharges of grape-shot cleared the streets. The chief scenes of slaughter were the great street of Alcala,

the Puerto del Sol, and the Great Square;-the infantry fired vollies into every cross street as they passed; and every window and balcony was aimed at where any person was to be seen. The people, when once dispersed, fled into the houses; they were followed there by the French, and bayonetted wherever they were found-not those alone, as was said in the Moniteur, who had arms in their hands, but in whatever place of concealment they were discovered. Parties of cavalry, also, were stationed at the different outlets of the city, where they cut down all who attempted to escape. The loss of the French in this day's insurrection was carefully concealed; they represented it as trifling; but it appears, upon the best and most impartial testimony which has been obtained, that the greater part of their troops in the city were killed, before their overpowering force from the camps could come up.

Two brave artillery officers, by name Doaiz and Velarde, at the head of a handful of artillerymen and citizens, made for the arsenal; but before they could deliver out the arms, a detachment was sent to secure it. They repelled the first column, having brought a four-andtwenty pounder to bear upon the long narrow street by which the ene my advanced. Two other columns were dispatched against them, who, from the windows and roofs of houses in the neighbourhood, fired on them from both sides. Velarde was killed by a musket ball; Doaiz, having his thigh broken, continued to give his orders sitting, till he received three other wounds, the last of which put an end to his life. Spain will one day erect a monument to the memory of those who perished