THE following winter, my friend, George Cayley, was orderedto the south for his health. He went to Seville. I joinedhim there; and we took lodgings and remained till the spring.
As Cayley published an amusing account of our travels, 'LasAforjas, or the Bridle Roads of Spain,' as this is more thanfifty years ago - before the days of railways and tourists -and as I kept no journal of my own, I will make free use ofhis.
A few words will show the terms we were on.
I had landed at Cadiz, and had gone up the Guadalquivir in asteamer, whose advent at Seville my friend was on the look-out for. He describes his impatience for her arrival. Bysome mistake he is misinformed as to the time; he is aquarter of an hour late.
'A remnant of passengers yet bustled around the luggage,arguing, struggling and bargaining with a contentious companyof porters. Alas! H. was not to be seen among them. Therewas still a chance; he might be one of the passengers who hadgot ashore before my coming down, and I was preparing to rushback to the city to ransack the hotels. Just then aninternal convulsion shook the swarm around the luggage pile;out burst a little Gallego staggering under a huge Britishportmanteau, and followed by its much desired, and now almostdespaired of, proprietor.
'I saw him come bowling up the slope with his familiar gait,evidently unconscious of my presence, and wearing that sturdyand almost hostile demeanour with which a true Briton marchesinto a strange city through the army of officiousimportunates who never fail to welcome the true Briton'sarrival. As he passed the barrier he came close to me in thecrowd, still without recognising me, for though straightbefore his nose I was dressed in the costume of the people.
I touched his elbow and he turned upon me with a look ofimpatient defiance, thinking me one persecutor more.
'How quickly the expression changed, etc., etc. We rushedinto each other's arms, as much as the many great coats slungover his shoulders, and the deep folds of cloak in which Iwas enveloped, would mutually permit. Then, saying more thana thousand things in a breath, or rather in no breath at all,we set off in great glee for my lodgings, forgetting in theexcitement the poor little porter who was following at fulltrot, panting and puffing under the heavy portmanteau. Wegot home, but were no calmer. We dined, but could not eat.
We talked, but the news could not be persuaded to come outquick enough.'
Who has not known what is here described? Who does not envythe freshness, the enthusiasm, of such bubbling of warm younghearts? Oh, the pity of it! if these generous emotionsshould prove as transient as youth itself. And then, whenone of those young hearts is turned to dust, and one is leftto think of it - why then, 'tis not much comfort to reflectthat - nothing in the world is commoner.
We got a Spanish master and worked industriously, also pickedup all the Andalusian we could, which is as much like pureCastilian as wold-Yorkshire is to English. I also tooklessons on the guitar. Thus prepared, I imitated my friendand adopted the ordinary costume of the Andalusian peasant:
breeches, ornamented with rows of silvered buttons, gaiters,a short jacket with a red flower-pot and blue lily on theback, and elbows with green and scarlet patterns, a red FAJAor sash, and the sombrero which I believe is worn nowhereexcept in the bull-ring. The whole of this picturesque dressis now, I think, given up. I have spent the last two wintersin the south of Spain, but have not once seen it.
It must not be supposed that we chose this 'get-up' togratify any aesthetic taste of our own or other people's; itwas long before the days of the 'Too-toos,' whom Mr. Gilbertbrought to a timely end. We had settled to ride throughSpain from Gibraltar to Bayonne, choosing always the bridle-roads so as to avoid anything approaching a beaten track. Wewere to visit the principal cities and keep more or less anortherly course, staying on the way at such places asMalaga, Cordova, Toledo, Madrid, Valladolid, and Burgos. Therest was to be left to chance. We were to take no map; andwhen in doubt as to diverging roads, the toss of a coin wasto 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 passunnoticed. We never knew in what dirty POSADA or road-sideVENTA we should spend the night. For the most part it was atthe resting-place of the muleteers, which would be nothingbut a roughly paved dark chamber, one end occupied by mulesand the other by their drivers. We made our own omelets andsalad and chocolate; with the exception of the never failingBACALLAO, or salt fish, we rarely had anything else; androlling ourselves into our cloaks, with saddles for pillows,slept amongst the muleteers on the stone flags. We hadbought a couple of ponies in the Seville market for 7L. and8L. Our ALFORJAS or saddlebags contained all we needed. Ourportmanteaus were sent on from town to town, wherever we hadarranged to stop. Rough as the life was, we saw the peopleof Spain as no ordinary travellers could hope to see them.
The ............