We
Were To Visit The Principal Cities And Keep More Or Less A
Northerly Course, Staying On The Way At Such Places As
Malaga, Cordova, Toledo, Madrid, Valladolid, And Burgos.
The
rest was to be left to chance.
We were to take no map; and
when in doubt as to diverging roads, the toss of a coin was
to settle it. This programme was conscientiously adhered to.
The object of the dress then was obscurity. For safety
(brigands abounded) and for economy, it was desirable to pass
unnoticed. We never knew in what dirty POSADA or road-side
VENTA we should spend the night. For the most part it was at
the resting-place of the muleteers, which would be nothing
but a roughly paved dark chamber, one end occupied by mules
and the other by their drivers. We made our own omelets and
salad and chocolate; with the exception of the never failing
BACALLAO, or salt fish, we rarely had anything else; and
rolling ourselves into our cloaks, with saddles for pillows,
slept amongst the muleteers on the stone flags. We had
bought a couple of ponies in the Seville market for 7L. and
8L. Our ALFORJAS or saddlebags contained all we needed. Our
portmanteaus were sent on from town to town, wherever we had
arranged to stop. Rough as the life was, we saw the people
of Spain as no ordinary travellers could hope to see them.
The carriers, the shepherds, the publicans, the travelling
merchants, the priests, the barbers, the MOLINERAS of
Antequera, the Maritornes', the Sancho Panzas - all just as
they were seen by the immortal knight.
From the MOZOS DE LA CUADRA (ostlers) and ARRIEROS, upwards
and downwards, nowhere have I met, in the same class, with
such natural politeness. This is much changed for the worse
now; but before the invasion of tourists one never passed a
man on the road who did not salute one with a 'Vaya usted con
Dios.' Nor would the most indigent vagabond touch the filthy
BACALLAO which he drew from his wallet till he had
courteously addressed the stranger with the formula 'Quiere
usted comer?' ('Will your Lordship please to eat?') The
contrast between the people and the nobles in this respect
was very marked. We saw something of the latter in the club
at Seville, where one met men whose high-sounding names and
titles have come down to us from the greatest epochs of
Spanish history. Their ignorance was surprising. Not one of
them had been farther than Madrid. Not one of them knew a
word of any language but his own, nor was he acquainted with
the rudiments even of his country's history. Their
conversation was restricted to the bull-ring and the cockpit,
to cards and women. Their chief aim seemed to be to stagger
us with the number of quarterings they bore upon their
escutcheons; and they appraised others by a like estimate.
Cayley, tickled with the humour of their childish vanity,
painted an elaborate coat of arms, which he stuck in the
crown of his hat, and by means of which he explained to them
that he too was by rights a Spanish nobleman.
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