The situation was by no means an enviable one, on a dark night in October, shivering on a desolate waste, with a cheerless journey staring us in the face, or a cheerless bed on the cold earth. To add to our discomfort, we had the prospect of being exposed to the inclemency of most severe weather. It might be truly said that our experience was likely to be dearly purchased.—After an hour's fruitless exertion to get out of the labyrinth in which we had involved ourselves, we at last heard the barking of some dogs, and immediately advanced towards the quarter from which the sound proceeded, and were in no small degree gratified at finding we were close to a village. We rapped most lustily at the door of the first house we came to, and hailing the landlord, implored him to take compassion on two weary travellers, and give us lodging until daylight. Our call was quickly answered by a surly voice from within, demanding our reason for disturbing his highness at that improper hour; at the same time telling, or rather bawling out, in tones denoting that we were most unwelcome visitors, the disagreeable intelligence, that we were far from the high road, and should not be able to find it during the night.—The Spaniard, however, directed us to some farm houses for more intelligence, and, glad to get from this inhospitable don, who treated us as though we had been house breakers, we again began to explore the unknown region, looking out most wistfully for something by way of a clue, to obtain the object of our search. Fortunately we perceived, after much marching and countermarching, a light twinkling through the gloom and mist around us; and, struggling along over hedge, ditch, and drain, our faithful quadrupeds carried us safely to the entrance of a poor hamlet called Villa Conejo. Here the peasants were all comfortably wrapped up in their beds. With some difficulty, however, by dint of both threats and bribes, we succeeded in procuring a guide, who buckling on his garments, and taking up a formidable staff, trudged before us with boldness equal to the renowned Sancho Panza himself. We were assured of getting into the right direction before morning, and, therefore, as the time of our absence was very limited, we hesitated not to push onward, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, in preference to quartering in the village, where, for any thing we knew to the contrary, the people might think proper to be quartering us in another way, not quite so agreeable to our taste, before they suffered us to depart.
In this mountainous district, the inhabitants of remote valleys are, in many cases, either brigands themselves, or closely allied to such; hence the necessity of being on the qui vive, and our fears were fully justified by the fierce and bandit looking aspect of those dark fellows who made their appearance on our arrival. With sinister looks and angry scowls, they glanced at us in a manner that made us rejoice to get away, chusing rather to encounter the howling winds than the treachery of those suspicious gentlemen. Having no particular desire to feel the sharp edge of their knives, that peeped from beneath their girdles, we wisely pursued our journey in quest of new adventures, and prepared for any rough work which might be in reserve.
Led on by our gallant pioneer, we once more faced the storm, and, groping forward amidst the darkness, we pushed our way through the intricate and trackless waste. Our trusty mules, following the footsteps of the guide, carried us safely over the ground, proving how much we owed to those poor animals for the service they afforded. About midnight we passed the moorland, and arrived at a miserable village, consisting of a few wretched hovels, scarcely offering the privilege of shelter from the violence of the blast. Into one of these we gained admittance, and, after some little parley with the landlord, we were honoured with permission to stretch our wearied limbs on a flinty bed, manufactured from rough materials, and thrown upon a floor that had long been unswept by brush or broom. Our whiskered aid-de-camp, having consigned us to the protection of the patron, gathered himself up within the ample folds of his cloak, and rolled into the chimney corner, where his nasal machinery was set agoing, and soon produced an overture sufficient to banish sleep from the most drowsy eyelids.
About 4 o'clock, we rose from our comfortless mattress, and, without any unnecessary delay in the adjustment of the toilet, resumed our journey northwards. On the first appearance of daylight, we descended from the mountain path, and arrived near the little village of Bayone, situated on the right bank of the river Guarena.
After passing through the small towns of Cienposuelo and Valdemoro, we at length gained the extremity of the avenue or approach from Aranjuez, and here, for the first time, we beheld the towers and elevated buildings of Madrid. Crossing the Manzanares by the Puente de Toledo, we entered the Calle de Toledo, a steep narrow street, which conducted us to the Grand Square, from whence going into a small central space, called Le Plaza de Porte del Sol, we brought up at the doors of a tavern, under the sign of La Fonda François. Here we enjoyed an excellent breakfast; our hostess, a garrulous dame, knew well how to charge for the demands made upon her larder, by appetites sharpened on the touch-stone of eight leagues; and, judging from our meagre aspect, that our performances as trenchermen would be of no despicable order, she determined that her pocket at least should be no loser by our morning's ride.
The Alcalde with his satellites and myrmidons gave us considerable trouble, teasing us with numerous questions, as well as a strict cross-examination with regard to our object in coming here; and I verily believe that, had we not been dressed in British uniform, they would have furnished us with lodgings in a building not quite in accordance with our ideas of freedom, or suitable to our state of mind.—They, however, in a most ungracious manner, gave us billets on the house of a wealthy Spaniard, living in the Calle del San Antonio, which is a handsome street leading from the Grand Square. In these quarters we enjoyed the comforts of a civilized life, for a short term after the wandering and vagrant system of the bivouac, or encampment; and we made good use of the interval allowed in viewing the lions of this extraordinary place, and in exploring every hole and corner that was likely to contain anything marvellous or worthy of observation.
Manifold accounts have been given by sundry tourists respecting Madrid; in order therefore to avoid all useless repetition, I shall merely glance at a few matters, which may, perchance, have escaped the notice of these curiosity hunters.
Our patron, Don Pedro Gonzalez, was a civil and obliging personage; but as we had good reason to know that he was in the French interest, we suspected that his conduct was not sincere, and we were the more confirmed in this opinion, from the very marked attention paid by him to a certain Madame, of vivacious manners, named Durand. The worthy Don being a bachelor, appearances favoured the rumour, that an intimacy of a more binding nature was likely to take place between them; or, in other words, the love-stricken Pedro was about to become a Benedict. To be on good terms with Mademoiselle was therefore equivalent to the same happy circumstances with regard to our host, who, accordingly, gave every facility to our exertions in gaining admittance to public places; and was, on various opportunities, highly useful to his guests. The conversation and agreeable disposition of the gay Frenchwoman served to dissipate any melancholy thoughts that might have haunted us. Without being decidedly handsome, she had a very good set of features, and was of such a pleasant temperament, that, although she was arrived at a reflecting age, her society was courted by many admiring swains, to the no small annoyance of the gallant Lothario himself, whose chief motive, in acting the part of our Cicerone, was, that he might withdraw the Officiales Ingleses from any temptation that might be presented to our susceptible hearts, by the wily blandishments and ensnaring charms of his lovely dulcinea.
The principal places of amusement open at this time were the Opera House, in the Calle de Principe, and the theatre denominated El Collegio de la Cruz. What a college might have to do with the name of theatre, I could not imagine, unless it were that the loose and dissipated habits of collegians in general favored those entertainments, or that the members of the learned institutions at Madrid were the chief patrons of the stage. The house was opened at an early hour, and filled by a respectable though motley audience. Among the singular customs of Spain is that of placing the ladies and gentlemen at a most awful distance from each other; a custom which in our minds would have been more honoured in the breach than in the observance; and if we might be permitted to judge from the bewitching glances of their sparkling eyes, the fair senoritas would have had no sort of objection to a repeal of such an unnatural disunion. Had the performances been ever so delightful, they must of necessity, have proved "flat, stale and unprofitable," to the senses of gentlemen, banished as we were by such an abominable regulation from all intercourse or communion with that portion of the assembled audience in which was comprised all that was lovely and beautiful in nature's fair creation. The lunetta (or pit,) resembled a den or arena of wild men of the woods—such were the characters inclosed therein untamed by female influence.—The noisy crew maintained such a loud and boisterous turmoil, that it was impossible to hear one word that was uttered on the stage, and the scene enacted in the pit or lunetta was something not unlike the performances in a bear garden.
The balcos (or boxes,) fronting the stage, were occupied by the ladies, who, decked out in costly attire, manœuvred their fans with such activity, that they might have literally been said to have answered all the purpose of the eastern punka;[25] a cool and refreshing air being thus circulated throughout the crowded building. The house was but dimly illumined by some dirty lamps, scantily furnished with oil. The music was tolerably good, although somewhat marred by the rude accompaniment from our friends in the lunetta. The play went off with vociferous applause, though the performers knew scarcely a word of their parts—but, owing to the noise, pantomime answered just as well. The prompter, an ugly caitiff, with black bushy whiskers, and a woolly head encased within a greasy velvet cap, was stuck up before the footlights, with half his body above the level of the stage, as if about to emerge from the bowels of the earth, like some dæmon from the nether region, while he, with angry looks and threatening gesture, endeavoured to hammer into the impenetrable skulls of the stupid actors the words intended for their delivery.