Chapter 49
As soon as the last of the enemy was cleared from the pass the army advanced over the Guadarrama range and on to the plain beyond. The first French cavalry patrols rode warily into the suburbs of the Spanish capital the day after the Battle of Somosierra. They reported back to imperial headquarters that the Madrid junta had ordered the arming of thousands of the common people, and the construction of makeshift defences and artillery positions to cover the approaches to the capital’s gates. In the first days of December the French army made camp outside the city and constructed their own batteries of siege guns ready to pound the hastily erected defences surrounding the entrance to Madrid.
While preparations for the assault were made Napoleon sent an envoy forward to demand the surrender of the capital. On the first day the envoy was rudely rebuffed, but on the second, the junta requested the opportunity to discuss terms. Accordingly, as evening fell over the plain and the soldiers began to light their fires, a small party of representatives rode out from Madrid and were shown to the gated estate that had been chosen for the imperial headquarters. Napoleon waited for them with his brother Joseph, and Berthier was with them to take notes, as ever. Once the representatives had been searched they were escorted into the Emperor’s presence by a section of guardsmen, who remained in attendance, watchful for any sign of treachery from the Spaniards. Napoleon had decided to keep the encounter as brief and formal as possible and there were no chairs in the room. The fire had not been lit, but the room was brightly illuminated by scores of candles burning in the heavy iron holders suspended from the ceiling. The leader of the Spaniards, a tall, graceful man of advanced years, stepped forward to speak for the junta.
‘I am Don Francisco Pedrosa of Castille, grandee of Spain and member of the Madrid junta, your imperial majesty.’ He concluded with an elaborate bow. Don Francisco had studiously avoided looking at Joseph, as if he was not even in the room, and Napoleon felt his anger rise at this deliberate slight to his brother.
‘Are you authorised to accept terms, or merely to discuss them?’ he asked tersely.
‘I speak and act for the junta,’ Don Francisco answered. ‘If we make an agreement here, tonight, it will be binding.’
‘And these other men with you.Who are they?’
‘Members of the junta and representatives of the Madrid councils.’
‘Do they speak French?’
‘They do. The junta insisted that negotiations be held in front of witnesses.’
‘Really? But your witnesses are hardly impartial, Don Francisco.’
‘Any more than yours are, sire.’The Spaniard smiled wearily.‘I doubt there is an impartial man left in Europe these days.’
Napoleon returned the smile. ‘We live in difficult times, señor. Though that does not need to be the case. France and Spain are allies.’
‘Allies? I think not, sire.You come here as invaders.’
‘No.We come here to restore the rightful King of Spain to his throne and end the civil strife that is tearing his kingdom apart.’ Napoleon placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. ‘You have but to acknowledge his legitimacy and set down your arms and I swear to you that my soldiers will leave Spanish soil.’
‘All of them?’ asked Don Francisco.‘And can you guarantee that they will not return?’
‘They will not return of my volition. I have no desire to enter the territory of an ally, without that ally’s express permission.’
‘I see.’ Don Francisco nodded. ‘You will forgive me for asking, sire, but from whom would such permission be sought?’
‘Why, your King, naturally.’
‘Ah, there we have something of an impasse between us, since neither the Madrid junta, nor indeed any junta in Spain, recognises the authority of your brother.’
‘Nevertheless, Joseph is your legitimate King.’ Napoleon nudged his brother. ‘Is that not so?’
‘Yes.’ Joseph swallowed nervously.‘That is so.After all, Don Francisco, the Madrid junta freely offered me the crown.’
‘I beg to differ with your description of events, monsieur.’ Don Francisco spoke the last word with heavy emphasis.‘The offer was only made after your Marshal Murat threatened the former members of the junta with prison if they did not offer you the crown.’
‘That is also a matter of opinion,’ Joseph countered. ‘I rather suspect that they have since been coerced into making such a claim by you and the other rebels.’
Don Francisco drew a deep breath before he continued. ‘We could argue the point for as long as you like, but the present reality is that you are not the King of Spain.You are a usurper.Your writ runs no further than the screen of French soldiers you surround yourself with.The rest of Spain will never accept you as their King.’
‘They will!’ Napoleon intervened. ‘The moment we have eradicated the nests of rebels that challenge the authority of King Joseph. Those who take British gold to stir up unrest and provoke challenges to the rule of the rightful King.’
‘Then I fear that you may well have to eradicate almost every man, woman and child in Spain, sire,’ Don Francisco replied. ‘For they are all against the imposition of a man who appears to be little more than the puppet of his brother.’
Napoleon felt the blood drain from his face. ‘How dare you?’
‘I am only telling you the truth, sire.Your brother can never be king here.’
‘He is the King. You will honour him as such, or you will be considered rebels and traitors and treated accordingly.’
Joseph glanced at his brother in alarm and then spoke again.‘My dear Don Francisco, there is no need for such resentment. I swear to you now, as I swore on the first day of my reign, that I will be a just and fair ruler of Spain.There will be no reprisals against those who are currently in revolt against me. I have no desire to sow further seeds of disharmony. I truly wish to do no more than serve my people and see that they are offered the same opportunities for peace and enrichment as the rest of Europe.’
‘That is all very laudable. But it is too late for you now. If you are imposed on Spain by force, then you can only hope to rule by force. The people simply will not accept you as King.’
‘And whom would they choose?’ asked Napoleon. ‘Some fat Bourbon imbecile?’
Don Francisco shrugged. ‘That is not for me to say, sire. But if that was their choice I would feel duty bound to honour it.’
Napoleon stared at him, and then laughed coldly.‘Then you are truly a self-deluded fool.’
‘That is not helpful, brother,’ Joseph protested.
‘Be quiet!’
Don Francisco looked at them with raised brow and a faint mocking smile. ‘Clearly I would be a fool if I imagined that Joseph would be anything more than your mouthpiece, sire. The moment he attempted to be his own man, you would call him to heel.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘I have had enough of this! Further discussion is pointless. Go back to the junta and tell them to surrender. If they don’t, I will start bombarding the city’s defences at dawn tomorrow. Once they are breached I will let my soldiers sack the city.’
Joseph turned to him with a horrified expression. ‘No, brother.You cannot threaten that.’
‘It is my will,’ Napoleon said firmly, his steely gaze fixed on Don Francisco. ‘Now go back to your junta and tell them what I have said. If I do not have your surrender by first light, I will order my guns to open fire.’
Don Francisco returned the Emperor’s gaze unflinchingly. ‘I will tell them exactly what you have said, sire.’
He bowed, and the other representatives followed suit before they were escorted from the room by the grenadiers. Once the door was closed Joseph turned towards his brother.
‘They will not surrender.’
‘I know.’
Joseph was silent for a moment before he spoke again. ‘And I will not be King.’
‘Yes, you will,’ Napoleon replied flatly. ‘I made you King of Spain, and only I can choose to remo
ve you from the throne, should I wish it. Not some antiquated committee of inbred aristocrats.’
Joseph cleared his throat. ‘And what if I choose not to be King?’
Napoleon stared at his brother with a surprised expression, and then laughed. ‘Why would a man not want to become a king?’
Joseph clasped his hands behind his back as he composed his thoughts. ‘You misled me about conditions here in Spain. The people are not like those of other nations.They are profoundly inward-looking. They are suspicious enough of the people in the next village, let alone any foreigner imposed upon them as a king. I tell you what they are like, brother.They are like Corsicans.’
‘Then you are surely the man to be their King!’ Napoleon grinned, but Joseph’s expression remained quite serious.
‘No, brother. They will never be ruled by someone they have not freely chosen.You have made a grievous error in forcing me upon them. They will resist me until I am dead.’
‘Let them try. I will not let you come to any harm, and I will not let them oust you.’
‘But, Napoleon, can you not see that you have made a mistake? If you persist in this it may well be the greatest mistake of your life.’
‘Mistake? Me?’ Napoleon was hurt. His brother had never questioned his judgement so openly, or so honestly, before. ‘I have thought this through. There is no mistake. Trust me. It is merely a question of the correct application of force for the appropriate length of time. Once the Spanish see that they cannot oust you, nor defeat French soldiers, they will see that it is pointless to continue the struggle.’
‘You make it sound so simple.’ Joseph turned away from his brother and wearily strolled across to the windows. He looked out over the surrounding landscape, which was dotted with the flames of Napoleon’s army. ‘How many men can you spare to keep Spain subdued?’
‘Enough.You have my word on it.’
‘Think on it. There will need to be strong garrisons the length and breadth of Spain. Every road used by our men will need to be protected. Every despatch exchanged between France and Spain will have to be escorted. None of our men will be able to forage alone, or even in small parties. And they will be attacked from behind every rock.That is even without considering any intervention by a British army. For that we will need a strong field army, over and above the men required for other duties.’ Joseph turned back to face his brother. ‘Your army will die the death of a thousand cuts here in Spain. And for what?’
‘For you to be King.’
‘Only until the day that the people finally triumph.’
‘That will never happen. Brigands and outlaws can never overcome a modern army,’ Napoleon asserted confidently. ‘Trust me, brother. I know what I am talking about. I am a soldier to the core.’
‘Perhaps that is the problem.You cannot conceive of the implications for an army forced to face the wrath of an entire people. Our men will not be fighting a war here.They will be fighting an infinite number of little wars. Against every man who can hold a weapon, every woman who can poison a well, every child who misdirects them or leads them into ambushes. In the end it will break their will, I am sure of it.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘You look too deeply into the hearts of men, Joseph.You always have. We will win here.You will be King and there will be peace.’
‘Because you say so.’
‘Yes, because I say so.’
‘But I don’t want to be King. I don’t want to be the cause of the endless suffering of the people of Spain. I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of those fine soldiers who now sit by their campfires. I don’t want any of it.’
‘It is too late for that, brother.’ Napoleon moderated his tone as he continued. ‘I made you King. I cannot afford to be seen to have made a mistake. Even if you are right in your fears for the future, I cannot be seen to be less than invincible. The other nations of Europe are like a pack of jackals circling France. The moment they scent weakness they will pounce. If that happens, it will not just be you that falls, it will be all of us, every member of our family, every friend and worthy comrade whom we have rewarded with promotions and titles. France will be returned to the Bourbons and the world will be the exclusive province of aristocrats again. Is that what you would wish for?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Then surely you must see why you have to be King here? If you give way, it will be as the first brick in a dam.’ Napoleon’s eyes glittered as he seized on the metaphor. ‘That is what we are, brother. Bricks in a dam, shielding our people from the dark waters of reactionaries and religious fanatics. It is our duty not to give way. I know you are a good man. I know that you are an idealist, as I am. You will understand the role you must play here in good time.Your people will need you when the rebellion is crushed.You must lead Spain into the modern world. That is a task no Bourbon could undertake.’ Napoleon smiled and clasped his brother’s shoulder. ‘It is a fit task for a Bonaparte, is it not?’
Joseph stared at him for a while in silence and then his shoulders slumped wearily and he nodded.
‘Good! Then it is settled. Come, let us go and eat.’ Napoleon ushered his brother out of the room, and because he went ahead Joseph did not see the look of contempt that hardened the Emperor’s face.
On the fourth day of December the French guns opened fire. A barrage of heavy iron tore holes in the enemy’s flimsy barricades, smashing those sheltering behind. One by one the guns in the batteries covering the capital’s gateways were silenced as they were struck and dismounted in an explosion of splinters and slivers of iron that sliced through the gun crews. Once Madrid’s outer defences had been pulverised, a column of French troops forced their way on to the Heights of Retiro that dominated the city. Several batteries of guns were moved up to the Heights and trained on the heart of Madrid. But there was no need to open fire. Before sufficient ammunition had been brought forward to begin the bombardment, a deputation of Madrid’s councillors approached the French lines under a flag of truce to surrender. The junta had already fled, the moment they had seen the French guns being wheeled into position.
At noon, the first columns of French infantry entered the capital, the skirmishers warily picking their way along the main avenues and thoroughfares, searching the openings of each narrow lane for sudden ambushes. Behind them tramped the columns of line infantry, under their tricolour banners surmounted with the gleaming golden eagles of the empire. Once the route to the royal palace was secured, Napoleon entered the city on horseback, surrounded by a screen of escorts. He was struck by the silence and stillness that pervaded the capital, as if every living being had retreated within their houses, refusing to face up to the French presence on their streets. Napoleon stared about him in bitter resentment. The fools had been liberated from the dead hand of Bourbon rule. He had offered them his brother, as liberal and enlightened a ruler as any kingdom could wish for. Yet they resented their liberation and even now harboured a deep spirit of resistance to the new order.
Well, let them sulk, he reflected coldly. They would learn soon enough. The only real choice facing them now was acquiescence or death.
Chapter 50
Arthur
London, December 1808
‘It was a mistake to ever send an army into Spain,’William grumbled as he poured himself another glass of madeira and settled back into his chair in the front parlour of Arthur’s Harley Street home.‘Nothing good will come of it. How can General Moore hope to take on Napoleon’s Grand Army with his puny force?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Arthur replied calmly.‘Moore is a fine officer. He might yet upset the plans of the Corsican tyrant.You’ll see.’
William took a sip and looked across at his younger brother.‘If there was any justice, or common sense, in this world it would be you in command of that army.’
Arthur smiled slightly. ‘Well, I don’t know about the rest of the world, but there is precious little justice or common sense here in Londo
n at present.’
William nodded with feeling.
From the moment Arthur had stepped ashore following his return from Portugal he had been under attack from all those who opposed the treaty that had been signed at Cintra, allowing General Junot and his army to evade surrender.The image of the Royal Navy being used as a passenger service for the French army had humiliated the nation. The London newspapers had accused Arthur, Dalrymple and Burrard of everything from incompetence to cowardice. It had upset Kitty dreadfully and for the present she kept to the house rather than brave the hostile looks of Arthur’s enemies, and the embarrassment of his friends.
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