On the 20th September, we moved forward to Naval Moral, and encamped. Next morning we occupied Calzada-de-Orepesa, and on the 22nd La-Gartera. A little before mid-night on the 25th, we marched from the latter place, and at ten o'clock next morning, entered Talavera-de-la-Reina, amid the noisy acclamations of almost the whole population.
Talavera is immortalized by the victory obtained by Sir Arthur Wellesley over the French army, on the 28th of July 1809. Previous to the French invasion, the city, which stands on the right bank of the Tagus, was one of the most beautiful and flourishing in Spain. But we found all the streets nearest the bridge in ruins, many of the others greatly injured; in short, the whole town, with the exception of a few streets, in a state of complete dilapidation.
The inhabitants talked incessantly of the battle of Talavera, and were perfectly deafening in their praises of Lord Wellington and Sir Rowland Hill. In fact, they never pronounced the name of the latter, but in terms of glowing admiration. His desperate defence of the eminence on the left of the British position, which secured the victory, has gained him an imperishable name in Spain. Centuries may pass away, but to the latest ages, the kind people of Talavera will venerate the name of a British soldier.
With very considerable regret we took leave of the warm-hearted Talaverians, and directed our steps towards Toledo. Soon after crossing the Alberche, the road leads into a vineyard, several miles in length, and which on the right and left extends to a considerable distance. The grapes, ripe and delicious, were overhanging the foot-paths in such a manner, that we would have required no small portion of the nautical skill of a Commodore Trunnion to pursue our course, without coming in contact with the beautiful clusters which hung around us in most inviting positions. Before mid-day we arrived at Cybola, where a cool reception awaited the Highlanders.
When Sir John Hope was detached with a division of the British army towards Madrid, in November 1808, he selected amongst others for that duty, the 71st and 92nd regiments. From some petty cause or other, the private soldiers of these regiments were not on the most friendly terms. From a year's residence in South America, many of the 71st could speak the Spanish language with considerable fluency, which gave them a decided advantage over their friends in their daily intercourse with the natives. Taking advantage of this circumstance, some of the 71st insinuated on various occasions, and at different places, that the 92nd regiment was a disgraced corps, and in proof of their assertion, they never failed to point to the kilt, which, they affirmed, the king had condemned them to wear as a mark of infamy for misconduct before the enemy. This, like all other tales of scandal, spread like wildfire, and in time reached the ears of the worthy Cybolians.
A corps of cowards being too rare, and by far too curious a sight even in Spain, to be lost for a little personal trouble, the villagers, on hearing of the arrival of the 92nd at Talavera, proceeded, some to the latter, others to the high road from it to the capital, to get a peep at the brave men whom George III. had sent to assist in driving the usurper from the Peninsula. From that day they had considered the Highlanders as a corps in disgrace, and consequently, when the latter entered their village on the 26th of September, they were looked upon as men totally unworthy of the notice of the meanest inhabitant. But when an explanation took place, the people laughed immoderately at their own credulity, and it was no sooner known in the town, that instead of a mark of disgrace, the kilt had been given to them as a mark of His Majesty's confidence and regard, than the whole country was inundated with the Highlanders, proceeding by invitation of the inhabitants, to partake of the delicious fruits which their richly stored vineyards afforded.
Next morning we proceeded towards Torrijos, where we arrived about one, P.M. During our march we passed five or six considerable towns, at all of which the people received us with the utmost demonstrations of joy. On approaching the gates of Torrijos, Sir Rowland Hill was received by the magistrates in their robes,—they gave him a hearty welcome within their walls, and in honour of the event, ordered the town to be illuminated the same evening. The display here was infinitely superior to that at Don Benito.
The sun found us considerably advanced on the road to Toledo, when, for the first time, he shewed his cheering countenance on the morning of the 29th. About a mile from the gates, the magistrates in their scarlet robes, the governor, the famous Guerilla chief, El-Medico, and a great many of the first nobility and gentry residing in the city, congratulated Sir Rowland Hill on the favourable state of affairs, and gave him a most cordial welcome within the walls of their ancient city. As we proceeded from the gates towards the grand square, the cheers of welcome which assailed us from every door, every window, and every balcony, were truly electrifying. Joy beamed in every countenance; and amongst numerous loyal ejaculations, "Long live kind George III.!" "Long live Wellington!" "Long live Hill!" and "Long live Ferdinand VII.!" fell from the lips of delighted thousands. In the principal square, the front of every house was literally covered with the symbols of joy used in Spain on similar occasions, viz. quilts of every description, sheets, silk flags, and handkerchiefs, and as we were the first British troops that had ever been in Toledo, the city was most brilliantly illuminated in the evening.
Toledo, once the capital of Spain, stands upon a rock, three sides of which are washed by the Tagus, which, murmuring sullenly as it rolls over its rugged bed, adds considerably to the romantic scenery around. The streets are narrow, but well paved, and kept tolerably clean. The precautions adopted by the inhabitants to exclude the rays of the sun from the interior of their dwellings, are so effectual, that on a clear summer day, a stranger seated in the most spacious room, would be apt to fancy the hour twelve mid-night, when it was only twelve mid-day.
Toledo was at one time famous for its manufacture of sword-blades; but the mode of making them being known only to the manufacturer, no real Toledo blade can now be had but at a prodigiously high price. So excellent was the material of which the blades were manufactured, and so careful was the maker of his reputation, that if the least notch appeared on the edge of a blade after undergoing the operations of tempering, and striking repeatedly on a sharp iron instrument, it was instantly thrown aside as a piece of old iron.