The populace of Madrid did not yet recognize its own forlorn state, and was keeping up a vigorous fusillade at the gates and behind the barricades. It had suffered severe loss from the French artillery, owing to the unscientific construction of the defences, but was not yet ready to yield. But the Junta was in a very different frame of mind: the military men thoroughly understood the situation, and were expecting to see a hundred guns open from the crest of the Retiro within the next few minutes. Their civilian colleagues, the magistrates, and local notables were looking forward with no enviable feelings to the conflagration and the general sack that seemed to be at hand. In short the idea of rivalling Saragossa was far from their thoughts. When Napoleon’s letter, offering ‘pardon to the city of Madrid, protection and security for the peaceful inhabitants, respect for the churches and the clergy, oblivion for the past,’ was delivered to the Junta, the majority decided to treat with him. They sent out as negotiators General Morla, representing the military element, and Don Bernardo Iriarte[523], on behalf of the civil authorities. Napoleon treated these delegates to one of those scenes of simulated rage which he was such an adept at producing—his harangue was quite in the style of the famous allocutions to Lord Whitworth and to Metternich. It was necessary, he thought, to terrify the delegates. Accordingly he let loose on Morla a storm of largely irrelevant abuse, stringing together accusations concerning the bombardment of the French fleet at Cadiz, the violation of the Convention of Baylen, the escape of La Romana’s troops from the Baltic, and (strangest of all!) the misconduct of the Spanish troops in Roussillon during the war of 1793-5. He ended by declaring that unless the city had been surrendered by six o’clock on the following morning, every man taken in arms should be put to the sword.
Morla was a very timid man[524], moreover he was already meditating submission to King Joseph: he returned to the Junta in a state of absolute collapse, and gave such a highly coloured account of the Emperor’s wrath, and of the number of the French army, that there was no further talk of resistance. The main difficulty was to stop the promiscuous firing which was still going on at the outposts, and to induce the more exasperated section of the mob to quit the city or to lay down their arms. Many of them took the former alternative: the Marquis of Castelar, resolved to avoid captivity, got together his handful of regular troops, and fled in haste by the road towards Estremadura: he was followed by some thousands of peasants, and by a considerable number of persons who thought themselves too much compromised to be able to remain behind. Having got rid of the recalcitrants, the Junta drew up a form of capitulation in eleven articles, and sent it out to the French camp. Napoleon, anxious above all things to get possession of the city as soon as possible, accepted it almost without discussion, though it contained many clauses entirely inappropriate to such a document. As he did not intend to observe any of the inconvenient stipulations, he did not care to waste time in discussing them[525]. Morla and Fernando de Vera, governor of the city, came back with the capitulation duly ratified by Berthier, and next morning the gates were opened, a division under General Belliard marched in, and the Spaniards gave up their artillery and laid down their muskets without further trouble. After the spasmodic burst of energy which they had displayed during the last four days, the citizens showed a melancholy apathy which surprised the conquerors. There was no riot or confusion, nor were any isolated attempts at resistance made. Hence the occupation of Madrid took place without any scenes of bloodshed or pillage, the Emperor for his part keeping a very stern hand upon the soldiery, and sending in as small a garrison as could safely be allotted to the task.
Madrid having fallen after no more than two days of resistance, the two Spanish field-armies which were marching to its aid were far too late to be of any use. The army of the Centre under La Peña had reached Guadalajara at nightfall on December 2: there it was met by the Duke of Infantado, who had come out from Madrid to hurry on the troops. At his solicitation the wearied and disorganized host, with Ney’s corps pressing hard on its heels, marched for San Torcaz and Arganda, thus placing itself in a most dangerous position between the Emperor and the corps that was in pursuit. Fortunately La Peña got early news of the capitulation, and swerving southward from Arganda, made for the passage of the Tagus at Aranjuez. But Bonaparte had sent out part of Victor’s corps to seize that place, and when the army of the Centre drew near, it found French troops in possession [December 6]. With Ney behind, Victor in front, and Bessières’ cavalry ranging all over the plain of New Castile, the Spaniards were in grave danger. But they escaped by way of Estremera, crossed the ferries on the Upper Tagus, and finally rallied—in a most miserable and disorganized condition—at Cuenca. The artillery, unable to leave the high-road, had been sent off three days before, from Guadalajara towards the kingdom of Murcia, almost without an escort: by a piece of extraordinary luck it escaped without seeing an enemy.
The doings of the disorganized divisions of San Juan and Heredia, which had marched from Segovia on December 2, were much more discreditable. Late on the third they reached the Escurial, some thirty miles from Madrid, and were met by fugitives from the capital, who reported that the Retiro had been stormed, and that the Junta of Defence was debating about a surrender. The two commanders were doubting whether they ought not to turn back, when their troops broke out into mutiny, insisting that the march on Madrid must be continued. After a scene of great disorder the generals gave in, and resumed their advance on the morning of the fourth, just at the moment when Morla was opening the gates to Napoleon. They had only gone a few miles when certain news of the capitulation was received. There followed a disgraceful scene; the cry of treason ran down the ranks: some battalions disbanded themselves, others attacked their own officers, and the whole mass dissolved and went off in panic to Talavera, leaving its artillery abandoned by the wayside. They had not even seen a French vedette, or fired a single shot, yet they fled in utter rout for sixty miles, and only halted when they could run no further. Seven or eight thousand men out of the two armies were got together at Talavera, on the sixth; but when, next morning, San Juan attempted to take up the command again, they raised the idiotic cry that he wished to lead them forward into the midst of Napoleon’s armies in order to force them to surrender! The unfortunate general was hunted down, shot as he was trying to escape from a window, and hung from a large elm-tree just outside the town. This was the most disgraceful scene of the whole campaign in 1808. It was not for some days later that the remnants of this miserable army were reduced to some shadow of discipline, and consented to march under the command of new generals.
It is clear that even if Madrid had held out for a day or two more, by dint of desperate street-fighting, it would have got no effective aid from the armies in the field. We cannot therefore say that the Junta of Defence did much harm by its tame surrender. From the military point of view Madrid was indefensible: on the other hand it was eminently desirable, from the political point of view, that Napoleon should not enter the place unopposed, to be received, as at Vienna or Berlin, by obsequious deputations mouthing compliments, and bearing the keys of the city on silver salvers. It was far better, in the long run, for Spain and for Europe that he should be received with cannon-balls, and forced to fight his way in. This simple fact made all his fictions to the effect that he was only opposed by the rabble, the monks, and the agents of England appear absurd. He could not, after this, pretend to introduce his brother Joseph as a legitimate sovereign quietly returning to his loyal capital. So much was secured by the two days’ resistance of Madrid: on the other hand, when once the French were inside the city, and further resistance would have ended merely in general pillage and conflagration, it would have required more than Spartan resolution for the Junta to go on fighting. If Madrid had been burnt like Moscow, the moral effect on Spain and on Europe would, no doubt, have been enormous. But the heterogeneous council of war, composed of dispirited officers and local notables trembling for their homes, could hardly be expected to see this. They yielded, considering that they had already done enough by way of protest—and even with Saragossa in our mind we should be loth to say that their capitulation was culpable. The one shameful thing about the surrender was that within a few days both Morla, the military head of the defence, and several of the chief civil officials, swore allegiance to Joseph Bonaparte, and took service under him. Such treason on the part of prominent men did more to encourage the invader and to dishearten Spain and her allies than the loss of half a dozen battles. For, when once desertion begins, no one knows where it will stop, and every man distrusts his neighbour as a possible traitor. Madrid, as we have already said, was not a true national capital, nor was its loss a fatal blow; but that its chief defenders should shamelessly throw over the cause of their country, and join the enemy, was a symptom of the most dire and deadly sort. But, fortunately, the fate of the country was not in the hands of its corrupt bureaucracy, but in those of its much-enduring people.
SECTION VIII
THE CAMPAIGN OF SIR JOHN MOORE
CHAPTER I
NAPOLEON AT MADRID