Amputia, 2 o’clock, 6th June.—I arrived here at ten, having left Castro Monte at half-past five, and seen my baggage off, after breakfast; of course I was up soon after three. The road was by a bye-way over the common, but tolerably good, and covered with troops and baggage the whole way, for the third, fourth, and light divisions of infantry, with their baggage and artillery, head-quarters, the Household Brigade, and the Hussars were all on our route, and passed in their way; they are now in this neighbourhood.
We passed Villa Alba de Alcor, three leagues further; an old ruined village rather, with a castle and walls all around, but nothing particular; after that Villa Real, a little village, and then here. This is a large old-fashioned town, with the houses in the streets projecting, and standing on wooden pillars, so as to form covered footways, a tolerably large church, and a castle nearly perfect, where our police corps and the cavalry are quartered. The people are apparently more cordial and zealous. I have been over the church, spire and all, and castle, and have taken two sketches, for the rain has made it rather cool and pleasant to-day. The country round this town onwards, towards Sahagun, Placencia, &c., is a dead flat, covered with villages and towns, but no trees. Another large castle on a hill, half a league off, and on the whole rather striking.
The French left Palencia the day before yesterday, and are off again in advance, with a good start. Report says they have also left Burgos town, not the castle; they are seventy thousand strong, but think us, we hear, too much for them, and are consequently retiring to strong positions. By very long marches we might perhaps press them, and take some prisoners, and part of the cattle and provisions they are carrying off; but this might put our army out of the high order and condition it is now in, and Lord Wellington does not seem to think this worth while for such an object. So the Hussars and Household are both kept quiet in this neighbourhood, and not sent in pursuit; indeed they could do little without strong support.
Head-Quarters, Amusea, June 9th, 1813.—Another halt to-day enables me to proceed with my journal. The night I sent my last from Amputia, our orders were to have all the baggage ready to start, at the end of the town, by five o’clock on the following morning; and that I should fall in, and proceed on the road towards Palencia, in the rear of the column of the third division, but at the head of the baggage of all the light, third, and fourth divisions. This was because the French had shown twelve squadrons of cavalry at Palencia; and Colonel Waters who went on there that day, could not enter, so that it was not certain that it should be safe to give out in orders, “head-quarters, Palencia.” The cavalry had marched early; and as they entered one end of Palencia at about six in the morning, the last of the French were off at the other.
I passed the third and fourth divisions, went through Paradilla, and entered Palencia with the light division. On getting my billet, I wandered about to see all that was to be seen before my baggage came. The city is old and curious, in size much about the same as Zamora. Lord Wellington passed us on the road soon after six, and went on through Palencia, some way, to reconnoitre.
We passed through a good open corn country until about a league beyond Paradilla, and then descended a long hill, with a deep clay soil, into the green and rich valley in which Palencia stands. The city appears to great advantage surrounded with meadows, and some trees, but mostly young ones. The Carrion is a respectable river, and we passed the canal near it, about half a mile from the city, where a very considerable paper manufactory remains unfinished; and the French having taken down windows, mill-wheels, &c., for firing and shelter in their huts for their bivouacs there the day before, the work will, I take it, be for some time interrupted.
The bridges into Palencia were handsome and entire. The streets are rather narrow, and the main one, the “Calle Mayor,” about a good half-mile long, contains about three hundred houses, all old-fashioned, and standing upon stone tall pillars over the footway, on each side, with the shops under, like Covent Garden. The houses are in the old style, like Exeter, or Chester, and Geneva; the streets badly paved, with a most offensive gutter in the middle; the whole dirty. The bishop’s palace is a large, plain, neat stone edifice, quite modern, of 1799, being built round a square, complete only on one side and a half however, the rest being bare walls.
The cathedral is Gothic and very handsome, the arches lofty and rich; but the custom all over Spain of having the choir in the centre, with very high double screens, deprives you altogether of the fine main aisle, so magnificent in our churches. This spoils the effect, though the screens and sides of the choir in the centre were most richly wrought, with Gothic masonry, like some of our monuments of Henry VIIth’s time. The side-aisles above are left open, and as there is a range of chapels the whole way down each side, and at the end, filled with gildings, saints, and pictures, the whole striking. There were also a few good pictures.
I afterwards went to the top of the spire, to survey the town, villages, and roads around. On my return, I was sorry to find orders to march again for this place, Amusea, next morning.
The town was all hung with counterpanes on our arrival, which made it look gay, and the people cheered us much. The general cry, however, is everywhere, “Viva Espana!” though there is scarcely a Spaniard to be seen in our line of march. Now and then, however, we hear, “Vivan los Ingleses!” and “Los Portugueses!” or “Las tres naciones aliadas!” The Portuguese are in the highest order, the men really look at least equal to ours, better than some; the officers are well dressed and gay, and have the advantage of language; the infantry and the Caçadores in particular. The whole army marches very fresh hitherto, but the Portuguese in particular: they come in even to the last mile singing along the road. The cavalry are not nearly so good, and, I suppose, are not much to be trusted. From what passed last year near this place, when they turned short round and ran away, they are called the Vamuses, for they ran off with a general cry of “Vamus!” Their infantry are termed Valorosas, from their having hugged and cheered each other early in the war, when they had for the first time behaved well and beat off the French, each patting the other on the heart, and saying, “Mucha valorosa!—Mucha valorosa!”