Though the roads of Spain are in general horribly bad, that by which we entered La Mancha is an exception, being sixty feet wide, and in excellent order, so that we advanced rapidly, and reached Santa Cruz, from St. Helena, in the evening of November 24. Santa Cruz is the first town of La Mancha, towards the Sierra Morena, and has nothing worthy of note. The streets are narrow and badly paved, and the houses, built of clay or of dirty coloured bricks, there being no stone in the neighbourhood, are entered by a large court yard, round which are the stables and other out offices. The naturally unchearful look of the town was now increased by the ravages of war, the French having recently destroyed nearly one half of it, and the description my hosts gave me of their own deplorable situation and of the general misery, by no means tended to chase away the melancholy feelings inspired by this scene of wanton cruelty. The invaders, however, while they destroyed the houses of the defenceless inhabitants, had taken care to repair and garrison a castle close to the town.

November 25. Early in the morning we resumed our journey towards Toledo by a very bad cross road, the roughness of which was however in some measure compensated by the beauty of the country, which presented a series of luxuriant meadows, covered with the finest turf, watered by numerous rivulets, and clotted with clumps of majestic evergreen oaks, under which vast herds of cattle formerly sought shelter from the wind and rain in winter, and which doubtless in summer afforded them a shaded retreat from the ardour of the sun. But this beautiful tract was now a desert, without peasants to cultivate it, or cattle to crop the herb. The numerous villages and hamlets which formerly afforded the traveller the chearful appearance of rural comfort, were now laid in ashes, the inhabitants either massacred or fled, and nought to be seen around but the desolation of an exterminating warfare. In short, the painter of landscape could in no part of the world find more beautiful scenery to occupy his pencil, nor the poet more affecting objects to employ his pen.

In the course of this day’s march we had to cross a piece of water and wind round a small hill, which offers an excellent defensive position for an army, the pass not being above twelve feet wide, and its flank guarded by a deep river. We halted for a short time at the village of Val de Penas, midway between Santa Cruz and Manzanares, and which is celebrated for a wine made in the vicinity resembling Port, but not so strong. We were now obliged to content ourselves with that of the last vintage, the French troops in their passage having exhausted all the old ; but the Alcade of the village kindly filled my little barrel with the best that remained, and which I calculated would serve me and my companion to Toledo.

At Val de Penas our escort was increased by six hundred infantry of the regiment of Nassau, and two hundred hussars of the same corps; the battalion of infantry of this regiment was now twelve hundred strong, and remarkably well appointed. Instead of our cumbersome tin canteens, which are continually wanting repair, each man had a skin bottle with a wooden or bone mouth piece, and holding about five pints; the older these vessels are, the more valuable.

Among the officers of this corps I recognized a Mr. Stelms, who had deserted from the French to us, and afterwards re-deserted back again to the French. This double deserter was received by the French officers with the greatest apparent cordiality, and a serjeant and some soldiers who had followed his example were as graciously received by their comrades, which induced me to ask one of the officers if they really considered this total want of honour as meritorious? to which he made no other reply than, the usual one of a Frenchman when he does not know what to answer, a shrug of the shoulders. Mr. Stelms remained with his corps; but the serjeant, who had all the appearance of a perfect ruffian, was marched onward, and I had the pleasure of seeing him put in irons at Madrid.

Outside of Val de Penas we met a large convoy from France going into Andalusia, many of the persons in which could not refrain from loudly expressing their joy at seeing a few English prisoners, as if the fate of the war depended on our freedom or captivity. In this convoy I observed several carriages built on the model of English post chaises, but incapable of supporting a comparison as to the finish. With respect to the French convoys, care is taken that two shall not meet at the same village; but this is doubtless more for their own sakes, to prevent a scarcity of provisions and quarters, than from any regard to the Spaniards. In the present case however this precaution was unnecessary, for we found provisions abundant, even to profusion, at Val de Penas.

Between this village and Manzanares we passed through or near several ruined villages. On approaching Manzanares, we were met by several Polish officers and gentlemen of the town, amongst whom I was surprised to see a certain Marquis de Salinas, as whom I had formerly met at Lord Nelson’s and Sir William Hamilton’s houses at Palermo. At that time he was the holder of a Pharo bank, and besides collected modern antiques for travelling gentlemen, who wished to acquire the reputation of cognoscenti. As the Marquis always produced his acquisitions of this nature in company, with a long harangue on their inestimable value, and the low price they were to be sold for, he generally disposed of them with ease, and I, among others, took some off his hands, which, though certainly more antique now than when I bought them, I would willingly spare under prime cost. Long absence, we are told, weakens friendship; and with respect to the Italian Marquis, I found that it weakens shame also, for though he was obliged to quit Palermo precipitately, in consequence of being openly detected cheating at play at Sir William Hamilton’s, in my presence, and was afterwards turned out of the English fleet by Lord Keith, on violent suspicion of being a spy of the French, he now accosted me with an air of perfect composure, expressed his happiness at meeting me, and insisted on escorting me to my quarters. Knowing him to be an entertaining fellow, from whom I might derive both information and amusement, I determined to look over the slight blemish of being a professed swindler; and, indeed, he seemed himself to think this no blot in his character, for he adverted to the transaction at Palermo, and treated it as a mere bagatelle. The story he now related of himself was, that, expecting the French to become masters of Sicily, he thought it the best policy to secure his property there by espousing their cause; that he therefore quitted that island for Spain, and being married to a Spanish lady, who possessed property at Manzanares, he had just come from Madrid to take possession of it, but found that a French General had been beforehand with him, and now occupied his house by military tenure; at the same time, that his Spanish tenants were unable to pay their rents, from the disturbed and distressed state of the country, and, that being disappointed in his expectations of the French becoming masters of Sicily, he could draw no succours from thence. The noble Marquis found in me a Job’s comforter; for, instead of condoling with him, I related the several unsuccessful attempts of the French on Sicily, and assured him that they had now seemingly given up the idea, as hopeless, while the English retained their superiority at sea.

November 25. As the convoy were to halt for the day at Manzanares, in the morning I walked out of the town over a fine plain, and entered into conversation with some country people, who, when they understood I was an English officer, told me all their sufferings from the tyranny of the French; and assured me, that if any of the English officers wished to escape, they should be provided that night with horses, money, and guides. This was not the first by many offers of the same nature that I had received; but even had I not been on parole; the liberality of General Sebastiani’s con duct to me had been such, that I should have felt it impossible to take advantage of them. On my return to the town, I waited on General Loye, who received me politely, invited me to dinner, and in the mean time asked me to accompany him to see a bull-fight. This diversion, which took place in the public square, was, however, wretched in the extreme, the animals, except one, being mere calves, which the squibs and darts thrown at them by some men and boys on foot (for there were no cavaliers) could not irritate; the old one was less patient, and soon cleared the square.

The General gave me an excellent dinner with a good fire, and many of the guests being officers of the old school, and consequently of gentlemanly manners, the evening passed pleasantly, and was closed with a dance, at which all the ladies of the town were assembled; in whose persons, dress, or manners, I saw little to admire. One lady and gentleman danced a Fandango with castanets in a very good stile. In all the large towns occupied by the French, it is customary for the Governor to give a dance to the inhabitants every Sunday evening, the expence of which is either defrayed by the Government, or certain emoluments are granted the Governor in lieu.

November 26. Early in the morning we resumed our march, and in the evening reached Villa Robeda, or Rubia, only worthy of notice from its vicinity to the source of the Guadiamar. On the following day (November 27), after passing through a level tract of country, formerly producing a great quantity of corn, we arrived at Consuegra. In this day’s march, a hare starting up close to us: I followed it with Monsieur Gamier, who had a greyhound, but we were soon obliged to halt, on coming in sight of some brigands’ vedettes, who had kept on our flanks for the last two days, and gave us continual alarm. Consuegra is the best town we had yet seen in La Mancha, but has suffered greatly from the war, and more particularly, as I learnt, from the German troops, who in the act of desolation excel even the French. Our present escort being entirely composed of these demi savages, the prisoners felt the full extent of their brutality, a blow with the butt end of a musquet being the only answer to any complaint. Witnessing a fact of this nature myself, I remonstrated with the commanding officer in the strongest terms, and positively refused to march another step, even though death was to be the consequence, unless the ruffian was punished, and he was accordingly marched on as a prisoner.

At Consuegra is a Moorish castle, capable of receiving a garrison of four thousand men. It is in good repair, and almost inaccessible, so that the Spaniards must have been infatuated, not to have seen the great advantage of occupying it at the commencement of the war.

On the following day (November 27), we reached Mora, a miserable village, where we halted, to wait for a reinforcement; it being reported that Il Medico was in possession of the Castle of Almunaire, on the route to Toledo, and that he had a considerable force. Il Medico (the name which the French have, in derision of his profession of physician, given to this chief) is properly called Martinez. He was forced into his present situation by the cruelties of the French, who not only confiscated his property, but personally ill treated himself and his family, which rendering him desperate, he joined a body of the patriots, and was declared their chief. His force at this time was said to be eight hundred infantry and four hundred cavalry, with which he was extremely successful in harassing the French, and cutting off their convoys. His acts of personal courage have been also so daring, that his name alone strikes terror. The two expresses dispatched successively to Toledo for a reinforcement having fallen into the hands of the patriots, we were obliged to halt a second day at Mora (November 28), and to kill time, a partie de chasse was proposed. From the preparations of hawking bags, powder and shot, flasks, and other sporting apparatus, as well as from the conversation on the subject, I anticipated an excellent day’s sport: but a sportsman only can conceive my disappointment, when I found that the game was confined to larks and sparrows; nor did my companions expect to meet any other than these last poor birds. We in four hours killed a couple of dozen, who were tranquilly picking up the scattered grains of corn in the yard of a corn mill, which, together with half a dozen larks, a couple of tomtits, a robbin red-breast, and a wren, constituted our day’s sport. In this true Cockney shooting party we were accompanied by a hundred cavalry and infantry.

On our return, I was invited to dine with Monsieur Denia at six o’clock; the dinner was not, however, served till past eight, and was as cold as the weather, which was extremely severe, and kept me in a shivering fit, though seated next to Madame Benedicio, whose rotundity of waist and ruddiness of countenance would have entitled her to be drawn as the emblem of the rising sun. The produce of our day’s sport, roasted on wooden skewers, were served up as head and foot dishes, and afforded as animated a conversation on shooting, as if we had been grouse or deer-shooting in the Highlands of Scotland. Our wine was little better than vinegar, and as I could not get a drop of brandy to qualify it, I was obliged to accept a glass of agua ardiente from a soldier’s canteen.

On my return to my quarters, I found a French officer had put his baggage into my apartment, which I did not much relish at first; but he soon waited on me, and apologized so politely for his intrusion, that I could not be angry. He greatly resembled the pictures I have seen of Charles the Twelfth, having a long beard and bald head. He assured me that these had been his regular quarters for the last three months, whenever he was allowed to sleep in a bed; but added, that not having his boots off for three weeks, one night more would make no difference, and he insisted on not deranging me. Of course I repaid his politeness, by expressing my satisfaction at the accident that led to our acquaintance. As I found he had served in Egypt, we passed a part of the night conversing on the military and civil proceedings of the French in that country, over a bowl of punch and a segar.

November 29. Early in the morning we set out on our last day’s march for Toledo, leaving on our right the strong castle of Almunaire, near which a battle was fought the preceding year, between the French and Spaniards, the former commanded by Sebastiani. Colonel Watalais, of the engineers, who was in our convoy, had been present at this affair, and pointed out to me the plain on which the Spaniards were drawn up, without any protection either to their front or flanks. He acknowledged that the French deserved little credit for the defeat of a mere set of peasants, hastily collected, badly armed, and without discipline or commanders, or even confidence in each other; so that the line being once broken, it was impossible to reform it, and a total route and dreadful carnage took place. The town of Almunaire had been reduced to ashes, as well as that of Arano, between it and Toledo, where another battle was fought with equal ill success on the part of the Spaniards. In this affair the infantry was commanded by Soult and Mortier, and the cavalry by Sebastiani, who is, however, but a general of infantry; but the French often make these transpositions, every Frenchman being supposed to possess universal genius.

On approaching Toledo, the country becomes mountainous and less fertile; and the road by which the town is entered, is absolutely dangerous for carriages, from its steep and rocky declivity, and its bad state. It leads to a bridge across the Tagus, from which the view is romantically wild.