On my return to my quarters I found the family at cards, in which I joined, and at ten o’clock supper was brought in, consisting of a sallad of beet-root and other vegetables, and some anchovies. Indeed the Spaniards are extremely frugal or rather abstemious in their diet, of which flesh meat forms a very small portion; nor have they the least idea of those enormous joints under which our English tables groan.

January 5. In the morning I strolled about the town, which appears to have been for some time on the decline; most of the magnificent gateways are in ruins, and many have never been finished, as though the proprietors had began on too great a scale, and wanted the means of completing them. The two principal squares are the Campo-Grande and Plaza Mayor; the buildings of the former are without regularity, and it is scarce possible to pass through it for heaps of ordure. The Plaza Mayor is surrounded by a colonnade, under which is a promenade, adorned with all the best shops. It is probable that this colonnade was intended to be very magnificent, and it may look well on paper, but the execution is below mediocrity.

The Ochavo is an octagon place, the buildings of which are in ruins, and the centre occupied by heaps of mire, into one of which I plunged up to my middle, in returning home from dining with our officers, who had their quarters in this Plaza.

Valladolid is built on a low swampy soil, which, added to the national want of cleanliness, renders it filthy in the extreme. Its promenades are celebrated, but neither the weather (which was very wet) nor my time would permit me to visit them; the latter being occupied in purchasing provisions, which we were always obliged to do in every large town to last us to the next, generally a journey of three or four days. I saw however the Prado de la Magdelaine, on the Esquiva, which has some large trees, and is probably a pleasant walk in summer, but at this time all was dreary and gloomy from the cold, wet and uncomfortable weather.

The churches of Valladolid seem not to equal those of many other inferior towns of Spain. The cathedral is but half finished, and I observed nothing in the others worthy of particular notice; except some good paintings in that of the Augustins, particularly a Descent from the Cross, by Hernandez.

January 7, we quitted Valladolid an hour before day, but halted a considerable time at the gate, which I believe was intentional for I found on reaching it an officer waiting for me, who informed me that he had instructions to apprehend and convey me vi et armis into a posada, where Messrs. Cavallos and Hervot had prepared a sumptuous breakfast of cold ham, hot mutton, salt fish, and many other substantial things, which I was obliged to wash down with several parting glasses of liqueur and brandy; and, on taking leave, Monsieur Hervot presented me with a small silver cup, as a souvenir de l'amitie éternelle. Embracing these gentlemen, who were here to quit the convoy on their way to Portugal to join the French army in that country, we bade each other an affectionate farewell; not without sensations of regret, on my part at least.

Monsieur de Billi, another gentleman, and myself, who had partaken of the repast, were obliged to gallop on to overtake the light convoy. We found the road covered with carts and waggons loaded with wool, which had been levied by the French as part of the contributions, and was on its way to France. Our convoy was now composed of the 20th and 21st light dragoons returning from Portugal, and proceeding to Pau to be remounted. These regiments, it was said, neglected their horses very much, and consequently were no favourites. One of the officers, as is usual with Frenchmen, entered familiarly into conversation with me, recounting the miseries of the campaign In Portugal; but which were scarcely worth mentioning in comparison with their sufferings since, particularly in Massena’s retreat.

We halted at a village where Monsieur Diniez and some gentlemen had ordered a repast to be prepared; after partaking of which, we continued our march and arrived in the evening at Turcomania, eight Spanish leagues from Valladolid. This place we quitted early in the morning of January 8, being anxious to get before the other convoy. The road was good, and we advanced rapidly. I was amused by the conversation of a Monsieur Vilmansen, who introduced himself by telling me, that he should soon be happy, eating oysters at Bourdeaux; and related the enormous quantity he had eat [sic] when last there, with such an expressive manner, as if he was swallowing them at the moment. Our conversation was not however confined to gourmandism, for the appearance of the country leading us to the subject of botany, I found he was tolerably acquainted with this branch of natural history, and as I knew a little of it myself, we kept up the conversation with mutual satisfaction. In the evening we arrived at Alada, a small insignificant village.

January 9. Next morning, though the escort was much fatigued, we left Alada at an early hour, and proceeded by a narrow and broken road along the banks of the Arlançon, which was now an insignificant stream, but sometimes swells so much as to overflow, and cause considerable damage. A little before dark we reached Burgos, on the outside of which we perceived the shocking spectacle of eighteen poor wretches hanging. These sights, so often presented to us in our march, are doubtless intended to intimidate the Spaniards, but have a directly opposite effect, inspiring them only with revenge.

After crossing a bridge over the Arlançon, we entered Burgos by a gate, and passed along a handsome promenade on the banks of the river, planted with trees and in good order. I found some difficulty in procuring a billet, but at last was quartered at a priest’s house, who with his sister, a handsome girl, and maid servant, composed the family. The females at first received me in a most uncourteous manner, but when they were informed that, instead of being a German or other follower of the French, I was an English prisoner, they entirely changed their tone, and every thing the house afforded was brought forward, and the mules accommodated in the hall, for want of any other place. In short, I experienced the utmost hospitality, which was the more agreeable from the first forbidding reception. Nor was this the first time by many that I had the satisfaction of experiencing, that the name of Englishman is a passport to hospitality and kindness in all parts of the world: even among the Arabs of the desert I have found it so, when entirely in their power.

January 10. In the morning I called to pay my respects to General Count Dorsenne, the governor, but not finding him at home, I strolled through the town, which is one of the best built that I have seen in Spain. The gates, of which there are several, are handsome; and a large square, surrounded by a colonnade supported by marble pillars, and under it rows of well filled shops, has the appearance of industry and prosperity. At one side of the square is a magnificent arch, also supported by marble columns of the Corinthian order, which leads to the promenade on the banks of the river. Opposite to this gate is the tomb of the Cid, to whom Burgos has the honour of giving birth, as well as of possessing his remains.

The exploits of this renowned warrior (the relation of which is supposed by Cervantes to have principally caused the derangement of the worthy knight of La Mancha), are collected from the old Spanish chronicles and ballads, and admirably put into English by Mr. Southey. As all my readers may not have seen this extraordinary and almost romantic narrative, I trust I shall be excused for transcribing a sketch of it from the review of Mr. Southey’s work.

“Roderigo of Bivar, a youth strong in arms, and of good customs, destined to protect his country from the Moors, was born at Burgos in the reign of King Fernando of Castile; and in the year 1026 his father Diego Laynez, chief of the noble house, had received a blow from the Count Don Gomez, the Lord of Gormay. Now,” says Mr. Southey, “Diego was a man in years, and his strength had passed from him, so that he could not take vengeance, and he retired to his home, to dwell there in solitude and lament over his dishonour: he took no pleasure in his food, neither could he sleep by night, nor would he lift up his eyes from the ground, nor stir out of his house, nor commune with his friends, but turned from them in silence, as if the breath of his shame would taint them. Roderigo was yet but a youth, and the Count was a mighty man in arms, one who gave his voice first in the Cortes, and was held to be the best in the war, and so powerful that he had a thousand friends among the mountains. Howbeit all these things appeared as nothing to Roderigo, when he thought of the wrong done to his father, the first which had ever been offered to the blood of Layn Calvo. He asked nothing but justice of Heaven, and of man he only asked a fair field; and his father, seeing of how good heart he was, gave him his sword and his blessing. The sword had been the sword of Mudarra in former times, and when Roderigo held its cross in his hand, he thought within himself that his arm was not weaker than Mudarra’s. And he went out and defied the Count, and slew him, and smote off his head and carried it home to his father. The old man was sitting at table; the food lying before him untasted, when Roderigo returned, and pointing to the head which hung from the horse’s collar dropping blood, he bade him look up, for there was the herb which should restore to him his appetite; the tongue, quoth he, which insulted you, is no longer a tongue, and the head which wronged you is no longer a head. And the old man rose and embraced his son, and placed him above him at the table, saying, that he who had brought home that head should be the head of the house of Layn Calvo.

“The Castilian monarch for some offence afterwards banished the Cid from his dominions. On his going the Cid then assembled his relations, vassals, and retainers, whom his influence and high military reputation had attached to his person, and resolved at their head to have Castile, and subsist by a predatory war among the Moors.

“And as he was about to depart he looked back upon his own house and when he saw his hall deserted, the household chests unfastened, the doors open, no cloaks hanging up, no seats in the porch, no hawks upon the perches, the tears came into his eyes, and he said, my enemies have done this! God be praised for all things. And he turned towards the east, and knelt and said, Holy Mary, Mother, and all Saints, pray to God for me, that he may give me strength to destroy all the Pagans, and to win enough from them to requite my friends therewith, and all those who follow and help me, &c. &c.”