We departed from Toledo on the 30th of September, at an early hour in the morning, very much regretting that we had so short a time to see every thing worthy of notice in that delightful place. Our route lay through a richly planted vale, watered by the Tagus, with whose rapid current we were in company for the whole of this day's march.
Towards evening the troops were encamped upon a most inviting spot; the ground upon which our alignment was taken up being the fresh and verdant banks of the river, and around our bivouac, on every side, were gardens and green plantations, filled with a great variety of shrubs and flowers in their Autumnal tints. With the soft leaves of these, (now thickly fallen), for a bed, we enjoyed that rest, after a toilsome journey, which "the weary traveller never seeks in vain."
In the forenoon of the 1st of October, the column was again on the main road leading to Aranjuez, and parallel with the course of the river. When we were within two leagues of our destined quarters, we entered a noble avenue of tall trees, their branches forming a long continued archway overhead, and protecting us from a scorching sun. The camino real was planted in double rows, in so direct a line, that the endless vista in perspective was, to our impatient optics, any thing but agreeable; and whatever little stock of patience remained within our keeping, was pretty well exhausted by the time we gained the end of our morning's tramp. At last, about 11 o'clock, we got into our cantonments; bugles, drums, and pipes rattling through the streets, enough, (at least in one sense,) to bring the very stones about our ears. Without any unnecessary delay, we were permitted to make ourselves perfectly at home, in mansions devoid of either comfort or means of entertainment; emblems they truly were of splendid misery. The ruthless hand of French campaigning had converted this once interesting place into a comparative wilderness; the habitations had not only been pillaged, but the furniture burned or destroyed, and every vestige of their former grandeur swept away, by the cruel ravages of this devastating warfare, leaving us to dispute with rats, and other vermin, for possession of their desolate abodes.
Aranjuez, which is seven leagues from Madrid, seven from Toledo, and nineteen from Segovia, has long been the residence of the Spanish Court; and, even in its fallen state, there is still sufficient to denote its past splendour. In spite of the ruin to which it has been exposed, it has the stamp of noble bearing, and, previous to the invasion, must have been one of the most beautiful towns in the Spanish dominions. The Royal Palace, on the banks of the Tagus, is worthy of being the residence of princes, and contains a number of costly and magnificent paintings.
The Queen's Palace, or the Casa de Labrador, the charming summer retreat of her Majesty, is fitted up with simplicity and elegance combined, and, being replete with every comfort and luxury suited for a Queen, it may well be termed a paradise in miniature. The walls are covered with richly embroidered tapestry, and the finest needlework, executed on silk and velvet, of exquisite workmanship.
Around the palaces and buildings for the nobility and members of the court, are numerous gardens, groves, and plantations, in the walks through which we rambled with much delight, as often as our duties might permit. The few inhabitants remaining here assembled on the promenade, to enjoy our military music, while a sprinkling of pretty blackeyed senoritas rendered the place more highly interesting.
CHAPTER XIII.
A brother officer now joined with me in forming the plan of an excursion to Madrid. We had long been anxious to examine that celebrated capital, and were therefore desirous not to miss the opportunity afforded by our near vicinity to that city, which, in all human probability, might never occur again during the period of our natural lives. We asked and obtained leave accordingly, and started, on the evening of the 9th of October, like a brace of knights errant, upon our eventful journey. The weather was fine for that season of the year, and circumstances appearing favourable to our pilgrimage we considered it advisable to proceed at a late hour, rather than wait for the following day, inasmuch as, in our uncertain mode of life, we knew not what a day might bring forth. We presumed upon our own skill to find out the way, and, trusting to that, took neither guide nor other attendant in our train, but sallied forth, mounted on a couple of hardy mules, and scantily provided with any thing pertaining to inward comfort.
Pacing along the Camino de la Reyna, a long extended avenue, we arrived, as it began to get dark, at the Queen's Bridge, a solid structure on the Tagus, whence proceeding as we imagined on the direct road to Madrid, we jogged on heartily without apprehension as to the course we followed.
The night became still more obscure and cold, and threatened rain. In the meanwhile we pursued the direction diametrically opposite to that we should have done; turning away from the main road, and leaving our animals to make choice of any particular route they might in their sagacity prefer. For some time we progressed, in a state of uncertainty as to what point of the compass we were steering towards, till at length, passing through a wide gate very invitingly open before us, we were brought to a full stop, on a wild common, destitute of any track, or vestige of even a pathway. In this awkward dilemma we were completely at a nonplus, repenting sincerely of having set forth at so late an hour upon our Quixotic expedition. To go forward at all hazards was our only remedy.