Spain, holding from time immemorial a high rank among the great powers, and more often an oppressor than oppressed, haughtily rejected all advice. Unconscious of her actual weakness and ignorance, and remembering only her former dignity, she ridiculously assumed an attitude which would scarcely have suited her in the days of Charles V.; while Portugal, always fearing the ambition of a powerful neighbour, and relying for safety as much upon her alliances as upon her own intrinsic strength, was from habit inclined to prudent calculation, and readily submitted to the direction of England. The turbulence of the first led to defeat and disaster; the docility and patience of the second were productive of the most beneficial results. The difference between these nations was, however, not immediately perceptible, and at the period of the convention the Portuguese were despised, while a splendid triumph was anticipated for the Spaniards. It was affirmed and believed, that from every quarter enthusiastic multitudes of the latter were pressing forward to complete the destruction of a baffled and dispirited enemy; the vigour, the courage, the unmatched spring of Spanish patriotism, was in every man’s mouth, and Napoleon’s power and energy seemed weak in opposition. Few persons doubted the truth of such tales, and yet nothing could be more unsound, more eminently fallacious, than the generally-entertained opinion of French weakness and of Spanish strength. The resources of the former were unbounded, almost untouched; those of the latter were too slender even to support the weight of victory. In Spain the whole structure of society was shaken to pieces by the violence of an effort which merely awakened the slumbering strength of France: foresight, promptitude, arrangement, marked the proceedings of Napoleon; but with the Spaniards the counsels of prudence were punished as treason; and personal interests, every where springing up with incredible force, wrestled against the public good. At a distance, the insurrection appeared of towering proportions and mighty strength; but in truth it was a fantastic object, stained with blood, and tottering from weakness, and the helping hand of England alone was stretched forth for its support; all other assistance was denied, for the continental powers, although nourishing secret hopes of profit from the struggle, with calculating policy, turned coldly from the patriots’ cause. The English cabinet was indeed sanguine, and resolute to act; but the ministers while anticipating success in a preposterous manner, displayed little industry and less judgment in their preparations for the struggle; nor does it appear that the real freedom of the Peninsula was much considered in their councils. They contemplated this astonishing insurrection, as a mere military opening through which Napoleon might be assailed, and they neglected, or rather feared, to look towards the