From plebeianism to gentleman: Notes for a theory of the reception of flamenco

Abstract

Everyone shouted: Long live the gentleman! And there was Uncle Gregorio, who is a man of few words, he exclaimed: "He has used it like an angel from heaven." [...] Realizing the character of Uncle Gregorio and other similar characters, we arrived at the farmhouse. Introduce me to
who were there, who were friends or relatives of hers of the same age, class, and upbringing, and they had gotten together to go hunting; and waiting for the competent hour, they spent the night, dining, singing, and talking, for all of which they were well provided for, for they had some gypsy women attended with their venerable parents, worthy husbands and precious children. There I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Uncle Gregorio. To his hoarse and hollow voice, long side, belly round, harsh manners, frequent oaths and familiar treatment, he distinguished himself among all. His trade was to make cigars by giving them already lit from his mouth to the gentlemen, poking the candles, say the name and merit of each gypsy, keep the compass of the hands when
danced some of his most passionate protectors, and toast their greetings with means jugs of wine. Knowing that I was tired, they made me have dinner later and took me to a somewhat secluded room to sleep, assigning a waiter from the farmhouse to call me and drive to the road. Telling you the sayings and deeds of that academy was impossible, or maybe indecent, I'll just say that the cigarette smoke, the screams and slaps of the uncle
Gregorio, the noise of all the voices, the noise of the castanets, the harshness of the guitar, the screeching of the gypsies, the chimera of the gypsies on which one was to play the polo for Preciosilla to dance, the barking of the dogs and the out-of-tune of those who sang,
They didn't let me roll my eyes all night. When it was time to leave, I rode horse, saying to myself in a low voice: Is this how a youth is raised that could be so
useful if education equals talent? And a serious man, who was apparently wrong humor with that kind of life, hearing me he told me with tears in his eyes: "Yes, sir. ".
This text, belonging to one of the best-known works of eighteenth-century illustration Spanish, the "Carras marruecas", by Cadalso, is usually seldom -perhaps because of their character critical-, placed in relation to the beginnings of the social world from which the Flemish.