I was at Valencia towards the middle of October, 1806. One morning early
the French consul entered my room quite alarmed: "Here is sad news,"
said M. Lanusse to me; "make preparations for your departure; the whole
town is in agitation; a declaration of war against France has just been
published; it appears that we have experienced a great disaster in
Prussia. The Queen, we are assured, has put herself at the head of the
cavalry and of the royal guard; a part of the French army has been cut
to pieces; the rest is completely routed. Our lives would not be in
safety if we remained here; the French ambassador at Madrid will inform
me as soon as an American vessel now at anchor in the 'Grao' of Valencia
can take us on board, and I will let you know as soon as the moment is
come." This moment never came; for a few days afterwards the false news,
which one must suppose had dictated the proclamation of the Prince of
the Peace, was replaced by the bulletin of the battle of Jéna. People
who at first played the braggart and threatened to root us out, suddenly
became disgracefully cast down; we could walk in the town, holding up
our heads, without fear henceforth of being insulted.

This proclamation, in which they spoke of the critical circumstances in
which the Spanish nation was placed; of the difficulties which
encompassed this people; of the safety of their native country; of
laurels, and of the god of victory; of enemies with whom they ought to
fight;--did not contain the name of France. They availed themselves of
this omission (will it be believed?) to maintain that it was directed
against Portugal.

Napoleon pretended to believe in this absurd interpretation; but from
this moment it became evident that Spain would sooner or later be
obliged to render a strict account of the warlike intentions which she