After remaining thirty-eight hours at Barcelona, the author proceeded to Bruch, a miserable village which derives its whole celebrity from the Benedictine convent in its vicinity. "The guide I hired at Bruch," says M. Didier, "is, I think, the personification of a Spanish peasant. Before setting off, he had prudently provided himself with a leathern bottle of wine. When he became hungry, he, with a very nonchalant air, made me a sign to stop, and seating himself by the road side, took a piece of bread, and a handful of nuts, out of his portmantle, which he quietly ate, not forgetting to invite me to share in his frugal repast. There is something in this sansgêne that pleases me, for it proceeds from a feeling of pride and of personal dignity that is noble in itself, and that seldom disgusts one with low and servile obsequiousness. False shame is unknown in Spain. The poorest peasant speaks to the king without being abashed; but notwithstanding the ease and freedom of his manners, he possesses uncommon tact, and never infringes on the rules of politeness and respectful reserve. You never have to dread his becoming indiscreet or troublesome from being treated with familiarity." M. Didier, although a Christinos, gives no very flattered portrait of the Queen Regent. Of her daughter, the innocent Isabella, he says: “It is a singular, and, truth to tell, ridiculous sight, to see the monarchy of Charles V., the monarchy of Spain, and of the Indies, represented by a doll, four years old, who has been taught to smile and bow. I saw her infantine Majesty driving on the Prado. She wore an immense hat and blue feathers that threatened to crush her. She is exceedingly like her father, and looks like a little old woman." Solemn illustration of human folly! In this country, where the divine principles of Democracy have made the once awful mysteries of Government as simple as the parent's control of his child, and rendered every man of the land's millions, a participant of the national sovereignty, it seems almost as impossible to believe that millions of rational and educated human beings, are so firmly persuaded of the Divine right of this poor infant to rule over them,-so devout in the belief that Heaven has endowed it with a sacred knowledge of the arcana of government for ever occluded to themselves, that blood has been spilt like water, and years of national horrors, wretchedness, and crime, have been endured like a fate and a necessity, to secure to her the throne and the perpetual privilege of monarchy without molestation—as it was for the Japanese Emperor of old, to credit the first Dutch voyager's relation that once every year in his country the water became so hard that men and horses could walk over it in security. And is not the same spectacle, in a state of peace and harmony, witnessed also in England, the honored land of our fathers, exulting under the Heaven-born sway of a young woman who, under a better political system, would be deemed trusted to the extent of her capacity, were she to have the management of her household. In Thibet the grand Llama, is viewed with the same reverence and allegiance, and wields as much power, as beneficially, certainly, for the happiness of the governed. The author's judgment of the Spanish character, is, we think, correct, and appears to account for the duration of the present struggle, and the apparent indifference manifested by the mass of the nation as to the ultimate success of Carlos or Christina. "The Spaniard does not see what he can win or lose by the triumph of either party. He will stand by the window to see Isabella or Don Carlos pass; he has no more sympathy with one than with the other; he has always been so badly governed that he has no hope of being well governed. Any government seems to him an evil, and the consequer.ce of this is, that he has become resigned to it as we are resigned to sickness, death, or any other evil. As to civil war, he bears it as he bore the cholera. It seems as if so slow and deliberate a people ought, by way of compensation, to be an extremely reflecting and provident people, but quite the contrary; no one in this country calculates, every one acts from impulse." The second volume of M. Didier's work contains a short biographical notice of Mina and Zumalacarregui; an account of the Spanish Government during the last century; a visit to Seville, etc., together with much curious and general information as to the present state of Spain. Among the sketches given of the most distinguished members of the Cortes, we select the following of Martinez de la Rosa: "Martinez de la Rosa was born at Granada, in 1788, and possesses all the flowery and flowing eloquence of his countrymen. He early began the study of the law, and the French invasion of 1808 found him occupying a professor's chair at Granada. When this city was taken by the French, the young professor found a refuge at Cadiz, the last and inviolable sanctuary of Spanish independence, where he wielded his pen in the most sacred of causes. He abstained from mixing in all public affairs until 1813, when he was named deputy of the Cortes, by his native town. The national assembly, which at first met at Cadiz, was transferred to Madrid, after the retreat of the French army, where it continued its sittings for some time. After the return of Ferdinand, Martinez was one of the first victims offered to the ingratitude of the royal perjuror. After having languished for two years in imprisonment, he was transported, without trial, and by means of a simple lettre de cachet, to the African fortress of Penan de Velez, an unhealthy rock, where he lived, or rather vegetated, for four long years, when the revolution of 1820 released him, and a government vessel brought him in triumph to his country. Hewas reëlected by the town of Granada, and appeared once more in the Cortes. He took his seat among the moderate party, and inspired Ferdinand with sufficient confidence to induce him to confide the reins of government to those hands he had formerly loaded with fetters. Martinez was named minister of foreign affairs and entrusted with the formation of the cabinet. He fulfilled this duty, but without suc cess. His resignation became indispensable, and he gave it five months after entering the ministry, (July, 1822.) He then gave a proof of disinterestedness which entitled him to that reputation he has since enjoyed. When he left the ministry, the official Gazette announced that he had refused the emoluments of his place and given them to the treasury. Another incident made considerable noise in the foreign newspapers. Martinez was accused of having, in concert with Ferdinand, meditated an arbitrary act against the constitution of 1812, which he desired to replace by a charter and two legislative chambers. The execution of this plan had already began. The Royal Guard rose in insurrection, but was put down by the National Guard. The resignation of Martinez soon followed this event. Thus, even in 1822, he showed considerable lukewarmness as to revolutionary ideas. The second restoration was more indulgent to him than the first; he was not even exiled. He voluntarily went to Italy, and from thence to Paris, where he gave himself up to literary pursuits, and was considered by his countrymen as entirely independent of politics. He took no share in the expedition of 1830, and soon after returned to Spain. **** In less stormy times, Martinez de la Rosa would have made an excellent minister of the fine arts or public worship, but he was never destined to be placed at the head of a revolution. He is an honest man, but not a statesman, not even a man of business. His is not the talent of action, nor the instinct of reform. He is not so blind as not to see the abuses under which Spain labors; but he fears using the axe; he ventures to touch nothing with the hand of reform, because he fears being compelled to touch every thing. His eloquence is pompous; to exhibit it he requires the excitement of the forum; in a drawing-room he has no conversation. He has a bad memory and is obstinate, which two circumstances do not facilitate business. On his return to Madrid, after an excursion to Valencia and Seville, M. Didier found that the ministry had resigned. Valdes has been named minister of war, but what will he, what can he do? His administration will be upright but powerless, I fear. It is not the minister who reigns, it is the army of official clerks. The minister issues orders, or signs a law voted by the Cortes, and then lies down to rest, believing that he has done something, while in reality he has done nothing. If the ordinance or law does not suit these tenants of the bureaux (and as they live upon abuses it may readily be imagined what laws suit them) it might as well not be passed; they have a thousand ways to prevent its being put into execution. Thus, in Spain, a law is often but a sheet of paper. I often see a young poet, a man of talent, but rather hotheaded, who has been exiled these three months, but who, nevertheless, goes to every ball, and meets Martinez de la Rosa every day on the Prado the fashionable walk of Madrid. The minister gives orders but it is thus they are executed. Valdes is minister, but how can he make war? Can he conjure up an army by magic? Can he coin money from the rocks of Navarre? Money is wanting-men are wanting; and besides, that almost supernatural enthusiasm, which alone leads a nation through a revolution, and which performed the miracles of the French republic." M. Didier then goes on to say that he believes in the possibility of Don Carlos taking Madrid, but that even should he enter that city, he could not remain there. "His reign, however, should it last but a day, would be a great calamity for Spain, where vengeance is implacable, and reaction horrible, but still, this calamity would be useful, by uniting in a compact body all the fractions of Spanish democracy, which are now dispersed and divided. An absolute government is no longer possible in Spain, and however contradictory may appear to be the scene offered by the peninsula, it will forever remain the domain of liberal ideas. I feel, therefore, no anxiety as to the final result of the struggle; the dogged perseverance of Don Carlos is in vain. The lukewarmness of the people for the cause of the Queen does not prove that they feel any devotion for Don Carlos; with few exceptions, the nation is neutral; now neutrality is not sympathy. An incontrovertable fact; one which has been proved by events, is, that if the Spanish nation has not yet rallied visibly to the new social order, it has, at least, completely separated itself from the ancient. It is in a state of doubt, of transition; it is deliberating before taking a decisive step. It takes its time for that, as for every thing; and when it has taken a resolution it need only breathe on the civil war in order to extinguish it." The following remarks on Count Toreno, written at the time when he took the place of Martinez de la Rosa, may interest our readers: "Some days before his fall, Martinez had solicited the intervention of the French. As soon as Toreno entered the cabinet, he renewed this request, which was refused. With the loss of the hope of foreign intervention, Toreno lost courage, and felt that he could no longer retain his post. But, to tell the truth, had Toreno undertaken the direction of affairs earlier; had he obtained the intervention, his reign would stil] have been transitory. Toreno is not the man of a revolution; he is sceptical and not ambitious. Without that firm conviction which produces civil virtues, he does not heartily embrace public principles, nor seriously embark in the public cause. Toreno, I repeat, is not ambitious. He does not aspire to power. He loves it not. Now ambition is a necessary virtue for a statesman; it is almost indispensable in any high social position; it is ambition which makes a great minister; it is ambition which triumphs over difficulties; it is by means of this passion that a name is imprinted on he rock of ages, and that the world is shaken; without ambition there are no durat ble conceptions, no firm devotion to any cause, no great designs, no powerful execution! But here, be it understood, I speak not of that vulgar ambition that destroyed the temple of Ephesus. The love of notoriety is but an inferior appetite. Ambition is another thing! It is Julius Cæsar who pursues one only object for fifteen years; and then in the field of Pharsalia breaks the Roman patriciate; it is Richelieu who sees the end he proposes to himself, and marches steadily on to it; he dies, but with him expires the French aristocracy; he leaves the people and the throne; it is Napoleon who places the people on the throne, and inoculates Europe with plebian royalty. Such is ambition! and it is a ray of this ardent flame of life that I would wish to see in Toreno. I would, that the regeneration of Spain should be his constant idea; that he should devote himself to it, that he should resolve to accomplish it at any price. But he is not anxious to acquire fame by performing a glorious work. Besides he does not love Spain sufficiently. Accustomed, during his long exile, to European customs, his country seems to him barbarous, and so much behind all others, that he despairs of it. Such are the faults of Toreno." Here our space compels us to close our translations from this valuable little work. We refer those of our readers who may wish to know more of it, to the original, which we doubt not can be readily procured. SONNET THE DISTANT LAND. Ask him, if in that land beyond the sea He pines to tread these quiet vales with me! He seeks the shadow of some silent grove, MEXICO AND TEXAS.* ARTICLE SECOND.-MANIFESTO OF GENERAL SANTA ANNA. In our former article upon the Campaign in Texas, in 1836, we drew largely upon "The Diary" of General Urrea, a publication marked by all the blunt honesty of the soldier, and bearing upon it. the impress of manliness and truth. We now enter upon the examination of a document, the characteristics of which are the very reverse of all that we felt called upon to commend in the former publication. The "Manifesto" of General Santa Anna has more the air of a piece of special pleading, painfully and cautiously elaborated in the closet, than the strait-forward story of a soldier, penned in haste upon the drum-head, and amidst the tumult of the tented field. At every page, we are reminded of the wary policy of one who is studious to make the best of a bad cause, and compelled to mask the poverty of his reasoning under a profusion of rhetorical phrase, and periods rounded for effect. In a word, his composition smells more of the lamp, than of honest gunpowder. For instance, he talks of "la fortuna, y ella sola, cortò las álas à la victoria que nos venia á alcanzar," (fortune, and she alone, clipped the wings of that victory which was just alighting upon us ;) the very plain and simple fact that Thompsontown was too important a post to leave in the hands of the enemy, figures thus: "En Tompson estuba aun la urna del destino, y quise apoderarme de sus decretos," (in Thompson stood the urn of destiny, and I wished to possess myself of its decrees;) but ere we reach the close of the sentence the trope is changed, and we have "me fué imposible asir esa ancora de salvacion," (it was impossible for me to grasp * Diario Militar del General Jose Urrea, durante la Primera Campana de Tejas.— Victoria de Durango, 1836. (Military Diary of General Jos. Urrea, during the first Texas Campaign.) Manifesto que de sus Operaciones en la Campana de Tejas, y en su Cautiverio dirige a sus conciudadanos, el General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.-Vera Cruz, 1837. (Manifesto of operations in the Campaign in Texas, and of his captivity, addressed to his fellow-citizens by General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.) Eposician de los operaciones en la Campana de Tejas, del General D. Vicente Filisola.-Mejico, 1837. (Exposition of operations in the Campaign of Texas, by Genera! D. Vincent Filisola.) |