August 6, 2020

Portrait of an aristocrat | Culture



There was a time when the only honest thing was riding horses and believing in God. There was once a Spain of cabareteras that were looking for the flea, of garbage dumps with trumpets, of infantas that wove socks for the poor in leisure time, when the cancer was cured with stomach elixir or Crespo pills and Alfonso XIII it reigned from the pigeon shooting. At that time Luis Escobar, Marquis of the Marshes of the Guadalquivir, He was a young man who was riding in a convertible Citroën and had his poodle with gold-rimmed spectacles on the box. "Is it true that a good aristocrat has an obligation to look like his horse and his crotch must smell like a riding stables? "I asked him one day. There, in the garden of his palace, where there were plaster nymphs and fountains that poured a watery sound from the cups, Luis Escobar, with four dogs entangled in his feet and a parrot on his shoulder told me:

-Aristocracy is a word that we aristocrats do not usually pronounce. That, you. We say the society, the friends of all the life, the well-known families. Yes, my family was very social. My father was a Marquis of Valdeiglesias, owner and director of the monarchist newspaper The time. My father was a famous room chronicler. Mascarilla was signed. It covered royal weddings, dances, summer holidays in San Sebastián, Biarritz and La Granja, horses, tennis, golf. Hey, did you know that the mules ram? Well, they ram, son, they ram. My father said that after returning from a certain hunt in Quexigal, the politician Silvela came riding on a mule and when a stream passed by, the animal was frightened and ran after destroying half the government. But, to everyone's surprise, the mule turned around and came crashing down like a bull. Someone took off his jacket and started giving him veronicas. Nobody knows what a frightened mule is. What the mule is coming! An authentic beast. Shortly after the fall of Silvela from the top of a mule I was born in Madrid on the street of San Marcos. I did not go to school because my mother was very apprehensive and I was afraid she would lose me forever. I educated myself with private tutors.

For an aristocrat at that time the most oppressive job was to take off and put on the golf, tennis, riding, skating, and polo equipment; fold the hinge 50 times daily on Mrs. Marquesa's hand; comb the poodle's bangs; play clothes while drinking chocolate with anise; to walk through life with a porcelain neck; hit the car's crank and leave for the hunt; preside over a board of directors and a brotherhood of Nazarenes; Pinch a hard in the pocket of the vest and give it to a poor man who was fertilized. When you do not work, you do not have time for anything. At that time, in addition to performing these tasks of his class, it turns out that Luis Escobar also had fun playing to earn a wage.

– Over time I became a lawyer. I'm afraid that then I was a young gentleman, but not an abusive young man, not that; It was what at that time was called a chicken pear, with 100 pesetas a month that my parents gave me, although I really lived from the game, from poker, from bridge. I went divinely with my stroller everywhere, I frequented the parties of the Ritz and the spring dances when the infantas put themselves by, I visited the open houses where there were saraos, attended by the queen, who was very mundane. The king also went sometimes; First he would wave, dance a little, opening the meeting and then retire to a small room to play bridge. The king returned to the palace towards one. The queen stayed until later. Brazilian music was becoming fashionable and they were already dancing blues Y fox slow, the colored drinks had been replaced by whiskey and the game of parsley, by poker. When I go out, tango is in full decline. I never attended a dance in the palace. They invited me once, but I had exams the next day and I missed it. I won the first salary in the year 39 as director of the National Theater and I assigned it myself. 900 pesetas a month. What if I'm a monarchist? For God's sake, when Don Juan Carlos took the first communion, a group of friends collected money to buy an electric train and I went to Mount Giralda and almost did not electrocute me by manipulating that pileup.

In the middle of Transition, when the condition of homosexual had not yet conquered normalcy, Luis Escobar, elevated to fame by Berlanga in The national shotgun, After a few drinks in Oliver with the costume designer Vitín Cortezo, he raised his hand and the waiter asked: "Do you want the note?" Luis Escobar said: "We want the account. The note we have already given. "

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