Our convoy consisted of several carriages, and about two thousand six hundred persons, including the Spanish prisoners, who had been retained at Madrid at hard labour in the public works, in order to force them to enter King Joseph’s service; a service from which they are sure to desert as soon as possible, with their arms and accoutrements. I was billetted in a wretched house, half destroyed, where not one single accommodation was to be found. With difficulty we at last made a fire, and prepared a bed of heath, of which, however, we were dispossessed by a French officer and his wife (the most frightful gorgon I ever beheld), who on entering the apartment placed their things on our bed, sans cérémonie, and took possession of the fire; and some soldiers returning home on leave also coming in, we dared neither produce our provisions, or insist on our right to the fire and bed we had been at the trouble of making: we had therefore no alternative but that of taking up our lodging in the stable with the mules, where we past the night cold, wet, and hungry.

December 30. In the morning, stiff and unrefreshed, we quitted the village of Guadarama, to cross the mountains which separate the New and Old Castilles. Here, as usual, when we came to any difficult pass, nothing but brigands was in the mouths of the French officers, whose apprehensions were plainly visible in their looks and conversation: and yet these were the braggadocios who, according to their own accounts, had encountered hosts. I observed that the greatest ruffians among then were the most apprehensive; and, indeed, I believe it will be always found, that persons of mild and liberal manners encounter danger with more fortitude than bullying and blustering fellows.

We halted some time on the summit of the ridge of mountains, from whence we had a fine view of the Escurial, though at too great a distance to give a circumstantial description of it from my own observations; I trust, therefore, my readers will not be displeased at my presenting them with some details taken from other travellers. This palace is considered as the eighth wonder of the world by the Spaniards, who in speaking of it use an emphatic ardour peculiar to the inhabitants of warm climates.

The edifice is an oblong with several towers; the two principal faces have between six and seven hundred feet front, and upwards of fifty in height; each angle is flanked by a tower of two hundred feet elevation, and within side is a magnificent church. At the distance I viewed it from, the stile of architecture appeared to me to be heavy. When at Madrid, I had much satisfaction in being told by many Spanish ladies, that they fled to the Escurial for protection during its occupation by the English, under the command of Sir John Hope; and although I believe the British force was four thousand men, it gave me still greater pleasure to hear them remark, that the discipline and good conduct of the soldiers were such, that it was scarcely possible to perceive there was one in the palace.

On the summit of the mountain we observed a large square obelisk, erected by order of Charles the Third, to mark the limits of the two Castilles. As I am now about to quit New Castille, I shall beg leave to offer my readers a few observations on that kingdom, drawn from the authors I have read on the subject, as well as from the information of intelligent Spaniards with whom I have conversed.

New Castille occupies the central part of the peninsula, being surrounded by the kingdoms of Valencia, Arragon, Old Castille, Murcia, Estramadura, Cordova, Jaen, and La Mancha; it is about fifty-five leagues in length north and south, and fifty broad east and west, including the tract of country named Celliberia by the Romans.

The principal chain of mountains in this part of Spain are those antiently called Mons Orespadani; they commence with the Sierra d’Olla, and form the Sierras de Molina, de Cuença, and de Consuegra. This chain is also connected, by other ridges, with the Sierras d’ Alcalas, Segura, and Cazorlo; thus forming a communication with the great chain of Grenadines already noticed, which extend in a south-west direction to Gibraltar and Tariffa, while the Sierras de Guadarama, from whose summits I am now supposed to write, connect them in a north-west direction with the Pyrennees.

If the British government was to reflect on the chains of mountains that run in all directions through Spain, I am satisfied the mode of carrying on the war in this country would be immediately changed: for the many strong passes in these mountains are particularly calculated for partizan warfare; and if they had been properly occupied, the French would have found it totally impossible to have penetrated into the country as they have done. Although this is not the only instance of negligence or mistake, on our parts or on that of the Spaniards, yet such is the present temper of the latter, that the minister who should give up their cause as hopeless or desperate, would deserve to lose his head; while the French must, in the end, be convinced of the absurdity of attempting the conquest of a country of such a nature and extent.

New Castile possesses three considerable rivers, navigable from the sea for a considerable distance: they are the Tagus, the Jacar, and the Guadiana. The lesser rivers are extremely numerous, but the enumeration of them would afford little gratification to the reader; if, however, he wishes for more minute information, it will be found in Monsieur La Borde’s “Itinéraire descriptif de l’Espagne,’ a work chiefly consisting of topographical and statistical details.

The principal towns of New Castile are Madrid, Toledo, Cuença, Talavera de la Reyna,* Villa Nueva de los Infantos, Illescas, Zunita, Consuegra, Guadalaxara, Tremblique, Alcala de Herrarez, and Alcolea.

* This town has become celebrated by the battle fought near it in 1811, between the French and British troops, when the latter gained a glorious victory under the command of the Duke of Wellington.

Among the numerous revolutions of the peninsula, New Castile has been conspicuous for the struggles it has made in defence of its liberties, and which have been sung by its bards with a degree of enthusiasm, that cannot fail to inspire the present race with the same patriot zeal in the defence of their country against the French. The title of King of the Two Castiles became extinct in the year 1475, and by the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella the whole of Spain was united into one monarchy: this period is the most glorious of the Spanish history.

Ever since the reign of Louis XIV. it has been the policy of the French cabinet to keep the Spaniards in a sort of childhood, which, added to the effects of the Inquisition on the acquirement of knowledge, seem to be the cause of Spain producing so few men of talent in recent times.

Having descended the ridge of Guadarama, we halted at a large venta* at its foot, called Fonda de St. Raphael, two leagues from Guadarama. Here we found a strong guard posted, composed chiefly of engineers, who had taken advantage of a stream of water to execute a whimsical and very ingenious piece of mechanism, consisting of a ludicrous figure with a huge cocked hat, a sawyer cutting timber, a group of merry dancers on a horizontal wheel, and a band of musicians; the dress and faces of all these figures were admirably ridiculous, and the whole was put in movement by the force of the stream, in such a manner that any man must have been sadly philosophic, who could refrain from laughing at them; moreover, the variety of costume and manner of the spectators added not a little to the singularity of the scene.

* An inn.

Monsieur Crochard having with him a caravan filled with eatables (amongst which I was surprised to find some uncommonly fine oysters and Jamaica rum, of which latter the French are extravagantly fond), invited me with several others to partake of his breakfast, and his invitation was the more acceptable, as I had neither eat nor drank the day before. I may here observe, with respect to Mr. Crochard’s good things, that Paymasters and Commissaries General in all armies have more than their share of comforts.

In the evening we reached Antero de Herrares, after passing through a bleak country without trees, but retaining some traces of cultivation, though now entirely neglected; for so inveterate are the Spaniards against their invaders, that they say they would cheerfully starve themselves to cause the French to perish also. Antero de Herrares is the poor remains of what seems formerly to have been a tolerable town, and at present consists of wretched mud houses and dirty streets. Here the experience of the last evening induced me to procure a non-commissioned officer, to prevent the soldiers from forcing themselves into my quarters. The serjeant appointed for this purpose was retiring to France on leave, in expectation of procuring his discharge, and was a steady, decent man.

December 31. In the morning we quitted the village for Segovia. The frost was now very severe, and the cold greater than I ever experienced in England, owing to the great elevation of the country above the level of the sea. Indeed it is a very mistaken idea that the degree of heat or cold depends on the latitude, for though this has a certain effect, elevation and local circumstances have still greater. There are parts of Europe, several degrees south of England, where the winters are infinitely more severe than in the latter country. At Grand Cairo, though in thirty degrees north, I have experienced a heat much greater than between the tropics, which is doubtless caused by the winds blowing over large tracts of burning sands.

We reached Segovia, which is four leagues from Antero de Herrares, at two o’clock in the afternoon. The street we entered by was so narrow and so crowded with carriages, driving in every direction, that it took us a considerable time to reach the municipality, situated at the farther extremity of the town.

Here is an aqueduct, considered one of the greatest curiosities of Spain, and believed by the Spaniards to be so antient that my landlord very seriously assured me it was the workmanship of the same architect who built the temple of Seraphis in Egypt; more moderate antiquarians however ascribe it to the reign of Trajan. By it the water is conducted across a ravine, and traverses the place and valley of Azoguego; it is from seventy to eighty feet long, and eighty to ninety high, and a great number of little canals or pipes branch off from it and convey the water to all parts of the city.

I was billetted in a magnificent house, of which I occupied a large apartment, covered with antient gilding and looking glasses, but without fireplace or brasier, so that I was starved with cold. I dined with our officers, who were quartered at the next door, and where a priest and several Spaniards of consideration paid us a visit in the evening, and indulged themselves in abusing the French; for having a perfect confidence in us they spoke their sentiments freely. My landlord and his family paid much attention to the Spanish officers, and made many anxious enquiries after their son who had been made prisoner at Ciudad Rodrigo. There were also two daughters of the master of the house, of very superior manners, handsome, and obliging.

I here passed the last night of the year most wretchedly, almost frozen from want of bed covering or fire, and suffering greatly from the pain in my chest and spitting of blood. Nor did the morning of the new year (January 1, 1811) bring with it any melioration. Cold and unrefreshed, when I arose, my reflections were melancholy in the extreme, from the contrast of my present situation with that of the preceding year, –– when I received the congratulations and compliments usual at this season from those friends whose expressions and looks spoke the sincerity of their good wishes, –– now a prisoner in a distant country, and separated for as undetermined period from those I loved most dearly. I attempted to drive away these sad thoughts by a walk in the town; but the streets were so covered with ice, that walking was disagreeable and dangerous, and I was obliged to return. In the forenoon I however received the visit of a forward little Irish priest, whom I accompanied to the hospital, where I found several wounded English soldiers of the guards, 61st and 78th regiments, most of whom had lost a limb, and some two. It seemed to me that the treatment of their wounds by the French surgeon, was by no means what might have been expected, from their supposed excellence of this art. The priest, as chaplain, had considerable influence in the management of the hospital, and introduced me to the director, who was very civil. From hence I paid a visit to General Filhie, commandant of the town, and an officer of the old school, which supposes a gentleman in manners and address. He invited me to dinner; but his hour being three o’clock, I was obliged to decline it, for as I was to continue my journey next morning, I wished to employ the afternoon in seeing the town. The General was lodged in the palace of the Alcazar, a very antient and interesting building; the apartments richly ornamented with mosaic and gilding, but generally ill proportioned. It was inhabited by Alfonzo the Wise, celebrated for his astronomical tables. In the chapel there still remained some pictures covered with dust, and in a gallery several statues of Spanish princes and great men, amongst whom I noticed that of Ferdinand Gonzalez, proclaimed first Count of Castile in 923, and of the famous warrior Roderigue Dias de Bivar, better known by the name of the Cid Campeadore.

From the Alcazar I visited the cathedral, with my guide the priest, who told me that though he had been twenty-eight years in Segovia, he now for the first time entered this church; and yet few in Europe are more worthy of observation, either as to architecture, situation or internal decoration. Though built only in the sixteenth century, it is chiefly Roman; among the ornaments which remain (for it had been plundered of the most valuable) are several marble statues well executed by an artist named Manuel Pachero. In the chapels are also some tolerable pictures and figures in bas relief, but a large silver figure of the Virgin has disappeared. –– Having satisfied my curiosity here I accompanied the priest to the castle, a Moorish work situated on an elevated granite rock, with the river on the right and a perpendicular precipice some hundred feet deep on the left, at the foot of which runs another river, so that the rock is placed at the junction of the two rivers. Its shape has a considerable resemblance to that of a ship, the town being longer than it is broad, swelling out in the middle and narrowing towards the stern; and when looking down on it from the castle, you may fancy yourself in the foretop of a vessel. The castle was now filled with soldiers, who were committing all kinds of depredations on the floors and walls, which are covered with elegant mosaic.

On quitting the castle, I heard myself wished a happy new year in English; and certainly Robinson Crusoe could not have been much more surprised at hearing his parrot cry “poor Robin!” than I was at being addressed in an English voice from so unexpected a place. The compliment was several times repeated; but I for some time looked round in vain for the speaker, until at last I observed the unfortunate lad, Archibald Lindsey, looking through the grate of an upper apartment, and learnt from him that he was confined there in chains, without fire, or one earthly consolation. The miserable situation of this poor fellow made me feel most forcibly how little my own was to be complained of, when compared with his, which united captivity, cold and hunger, and brought to my recollection a passage in one of Sterne’s sermons, admirably appropriate.

“Heaven have pity upon the youth, for he is in hunger and in distress, strayed out of the reach of a parent, who counts every hour of his absence with anguish; cut off from all his tender offices by his folly, and from relief and charity from others, by the calamities of the times.

“Nothing so powerfully calls home the mind as distress: the tense fibre then relaxes, lazes, the soul retires to itself, sits pensive, and is susceptible of right impressions. If we have a friend, ’tis then we think of him; if a benefactor, at that moment all his kindnesses impress upon our mind. –– Gracious and bountiful God, is it not for this that they who in their prosperity forget thee, do yet remember and return to thee in the hour of sorrow!

“When our heart is in heaviness, upon whom can we think but thee, who knowest our necessities afar off, puttest all our tears in thy bottle –– seest every careful thought, hearest every sigh and melancholy groan we utter!”

Every effort, as I have before noticed, had been used to induce this poor lad to enter into the French service, but without effect; and as a punishment for his virtuous patriotism, he was now thus starving in chains. Indeed, I have observed many instances of heroic constancy in this respect, as well in Spaniards as in English, which proved the great strength of character of the former, and raised them infinitely above the Germans, who change sides with circumstances, and are indifferent into whose hands their country falls.

From the castle we proceeded to the Governor’s residence, where the priest, who was entirely Irish as to the absence of mauvaise honte, called for wine and brandy, to which he did ample justice. From hence we went to the place of military execution, where the victim is placed on a marble slab, close to a wall, which I observed pierced with vast numbers of bullets, and the ground strewed with pieces of the skull of a Spanish lieutenant, who had been shot here the preceding day. From this fatal spot, well calculated to inspire the most melancholy reflections, I retired, oppressed and unwell, and visited the mint, where brass is now only coined, and but little of it; the building is insignificant, and by no means answers the descriptions I have read of it.

In returning to my lodging, I met Messrs. Cavallos and Hervot, who pressed me to dine with them, which I promised, if I could get rid of my priest; and in this I only succeeded by plying him with brandy. I did not feel without alarm in going to dinner, for the evening was very dark, and I knew that several French had been killed the same day in a scuffle with the Spaniards. I had not gone far when I heard the firing of musquets and a great outcry, and soon after heard that four Frenchmen and a woman had been massacred; one of the men, it seems, was a follower of the army, a description of fellows who commit infinitely more depredations than the soldiers. In the act of spoliation, the female campaigners are worse than the men; for being lost to every feminine virtue, they plunder and murder with the greatest coolness and composure. The house we dined at had formerly been an extensive woollen manufactory, but was now much declined. The party was pleasant, and the dinner tolerable. On my return to my quarters, I found my landlord and his amiable daughters assembled in the kitchen. They expressed the anxiety they had been under for my safety: and finding the old man in a conversible humour, I sat down with a segar, and gave him all the information I could respecting the state of affairs in the interior of Spain. He soon became animated with the subject, and grasping the tongs, exclaimed with energy, “would I were young again! but old as I am, I hope before I die to assist in expelling these villains from Spain!” Such, indeed, is the common sentiment of the Spaniards in general, and it is to be hoped and expected that they will be ultimately successful, for they are truly fighting pro aris et focis.