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. With the
utmost gravity he delivered some such medley as this: His
Iberian origin dated back to the time of Hannibal, who, after
his defeat of the Papal forces and capture of Rome, had, as
they well knew, married Princess Peri Banou, youngest
daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. The issue of the
marriage was the famous Cardinal Chicot, from whom he -
George Cayley - was of direct male descent. When Chicot was
slain by Oliver Cromwell at the battle of Hastings, his
descendants, foiled in their attempt to capture England with
the Spanish Armada, settled in the principality of Yorkshire,
adopted the noble name of Cayley, and still governed that
province as members of the British Parliament.
From that day we were treated with every mark of distinction.
Here is another of my friend's pranks. I will let Cayley
speak; for though I kept no journal, we had agreed to write a
joint account of our trip, and our notebooks were common
property.
After leaving Malaga we met some beggars on the road, to one
of whom, 'an old hag with one eye and a grizzly beard,' I
threw the immense sum of a couple of 2-cuarto pieces. An old
man riding behind us on an ass with empty panniers, seeing
fortunes being scattered about the road with such reckless
and unbounded profusion, came up alongside, and entered into
a piteous detail of his poverty. When he wound up with plain
begging, the originality and boldness of the idea of a
mounted beggar struck us in so humorous a light that we could
not help laughing. As we rode along talking his case over,
Cayley said, 'Suppose we rob him. He has sold his market
produce in Malaga, and depend upon it, has a pocketful of
money.' We waited for him to come up. When he got fairly
between us, Cayley pulled out his revolver (we both carried
pistols) and thus addressed him:
'Impudent old scoundrel! stand still. If thou stirr'st hand
or foot, or openest thy mouth, I will slay thee like a dog.
Thou greedy miscreant, who art evidently a man of property
and hast an ass to ride upon, art not satisfied without
trying to rob the truly poor of the alms we give them.
Therefore hand over at once the two dollars for which thou
hast sold thy cabbages for double what they were worth.'
The old culprit fell on his knees, and trembling violently,
prayed Cayley for the love of the Virgin to spare him.
'One moment, CABALLEROS,' he cried, 'I will give you all I
possess. But I am poor, very poor, and I have a sick wife at
the disposition of your worships.'
'Wherefore art thou fumbling at thy foot? Thou carriest not
thy wife in thy shoe?'
'I cannot untie the string - my hand trembles; will your
worships permit me to take out my knife?'
He did so, and cutting the carefully knotted thong of a
leather bag which had been concealed in the leg of his
stocking, poured out a handful of small coin and began to
weep piteously.
