Napoleon, with his guards and the first division, marched towards Madrid.  His vanguard reached the foot of the Somosierra chain on the 30th of November, and found that a corps of 12,000 men had been assembled for the defence of the pass, under General St. Juan.  No stronger position could well be fancied than that of the Spaniards:  the defile was narrow, and excessively steep, and the road completely swept by sixteen pieces of artillery.  At daybreak, on the 1st of December, the French began their attempt to turn the flanks of St. Juan:  three battalions scattered themselves over the opposite sides of the defile, and a warm skirmishing fire had begun.  At this moment Buonaparte came up.  He rode into the mouth of the pass, surveyed the scene for an instant, perceived that his infantry were making no progress, and at once conceived the daring idea of causing his Polish lancers to charge right up the causeway in face of the battery.  The smoke of the skirmishers on the hill-sides mingled with the thick fogs and vapours of the morning, and under this veil the brave Krazinski led his troopers impetuously up the ascent.  The Spanish infantry fired as they passed them, threw down their arms, abandoned their entrenchments, and fled.  The Poles speared the gunners, and took possession of the cannon.  The Spaniards continued their flight in such disorder that they were at last fain to quit the road to Madrid, and escape in the direction, some of Segovia, others of Talaveyra.  On the morning of the 2nd, three divisions of French cavalry made their appearance on the high ground to the north-west of the capital.

During eight days the inhabitants had been preparing the means of resistance.  A local and military junta had been invested with authority to conduct the defence.  Six thousand regular troops were in the town, and crowds of the citizens and of the peasantry of the adjoining country were in arms along with them.  The pavement had been taken up, the streets barricadoed, the houses on the outskirts loopholed, and the Retiro, a large but weak edifice, occupied by a strong garrison.  Terrible violence prevailed—­many persons suspected of adhering to the side of the French were assassinated; the bells of churches and convents rung incessantly; ferocious bands paraded the streets day and night:  and at the moment when the enemy’s cavalry appeared, the universal uproar seemed to announce that he was about to find a new and a greater Zaragossa in Madrid.

The town was summoned at noon; and the officer employed would have been massacred by the mob but for the interference of the Spanish regulars.  Napoleon waited until his infantry and artillery came up in the evening, and then the place was invested on one side.  “The night was clear and bright” (says Napier); “the French camp was silent and watchful; but the noise of tumult was heard from every quarter of the city, as if some mighty beast was struggling and howling in the toils.”  At midnight the city was