In the late afternoon as well as the early morning we
saw a good deal of the military in Valladolid, where an army corps is
stationed. From time to time a company of infantry marched through the
streets to gay music, and toward evening slim young officers began to
frequent the arcades and glass themselves in the windows of the shops,
their spurs clinking on the pavement as they lounged by or stopped and
took distinguished attitudes. We speculated in vain as to their social
quality, and to this day I do not know whether "the career is open to
the talents" in the Spanish army, or whether military rank is merely the
just reward of civil rank. Those beautiful young swells in
riding-breeches and tight gray jackets approached an Italian type of
cavalry officer; they did not look very vigorous, and the common
soldiers we saw marching through the streets, largely followed by the
populace, were not of formidable stature or figure, though neat and
agreeable enough to the eye.
While I indulge the record of these trivialities, which I am by no means
sure the reader will care for so much, I feel that it would be wrong to
let him remain as ignorant of the history of Valladolid as I was while
there.
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