JOHN BULL ON THE GUADALQUIVIR


By Anthony Trollope


I am an Englishman, living, as all Englishmen should do, in England, and my 
wife would not, I think, be well pleased were anyone to insinuate that she 
were other than an Englishwoman; but in the circumstances of my marriage I 
became connected with the south of Spain, and the narrative which I am to 
tell requires that I should refer to some of those details.
The Pomfrets and Daguilars have long been in trade together in this 
country, and one of the partners has usually resided at Seville for the 
sake of the works which the firm there possesses. My father, James Pomfret, 
lived there for ten years before his marriage; and since that and up to the 
present period, old Mr Daguilar has always been on the spot. He was, I 
believe, born in Spain, but he came very early to England; he married an 
English wife, and his sons had been educated exclusively in England. His 
only daughter, Maria Daguilar, did not pass so large a proportion of her 
early life in this country, but she came to us for a visit at the age of 
seventeen, and when she returned I made up my mind that I most assuredly 
would go after her. So I did, and she is now sitting on the other side of 
the fireplace with a legion of small linen habiliments in a huge basket by 
her side.
I felt, at the first, that there was something lacking to make my cup of 
love perfectly delightful. It was very sweet, but there was wanting that 
flower of romance which is generally added to the heavenly draught by a 
slight admixture of opposition. I feared that the path of my true love 
would run too smooth. When Maria came to our house, my mother and elder 
sister seemed to be quite willing that I should be continually alone with 
her; and she had not been there ten days before my father, by chance, 
remarked that there was nothing old Mr Daguilar valued so highly as a 
thorough feeling of intimate alliance between the two families which had 
been so long connected in trade. I was never told that Maria was to be my 
wife, but I felt that the same thing was done without words; and when, 
after six weeks of somewhat elaborate attendance upon her, I asked her to 
be Mrs John Pomfret, I had no more fear of a refusal, or even of hesitation 
on her part, than I now have when I suggest to my partner some commercial 
transaction of undoubted advantage.
But Maria, even at that age, had about her a quiet sustained decision of 
character quite unlike anything I had seen in English girls. I used to 
hear, and do still hear, how much more flippant is the education of girls 
in France and Spain than in England; and I know that this is shown to be 
the result of many causes - the Roman Catholic religion being, perhaps, the 
chief offender; but, nevertheless, I rarely see in one of our young women 
the same power of a self-sustained demeanour as I meet on the Continent. It 
goes no deeper than the demeanour, people say. I can only answer that I 
have not found that shallowness in my own wife.
Miss Daguilar replied to me that she was not prepared with an answer; she 
had only known me six weeks and wanted more time to think about it; 
besides, there was one in her own country with whom she would wish to 
consult. I knew she had no mother; and as for consulting old Mr Daguilar on 
such a subject, that idea, I knew, could not have troubled her. Besides, as 
I afterwards learned, Mr Daguilar had already proposed a division of 
assets. My mother declared that Maria was a foolish chit - in which, by-the-
by, she showed her entire ignorance of Miss Daguilar's character; my eldest 
sister begged that no constraint might be put on the young lady's 
inclinations - which provoked me to assert that the young lady's 
inclinations were by no means opposed to my own; and my father, in the 
coolest manner, suggested that the matter might stand over for twelve 
months, and that I might then go to Seville, and see about it! Stand over 
for twelve months! Would not Maria, long before that time, have been 
snapped up and carried off by one of those inordinately rich Spanish 
grandees who are still to be met with occasionally in Andalucia?
My father's dictum, however, had gone forth; and Maria, in the calmest 
voice, protested that she thought it very wise. I should be less of a boy 
by that time, she said, smiling at me, but driving wedges between every 
fibre of my body as she spoke. 'Be it so,' I said, proudly. 'At any rate, I 
am not so much of a boy that I shall forget you.' 'And, John, you still 
have the trade to learn,' she added, with her deliciously foreign 
intonation - speaking very slowly, but with perfect pronunciation. The 
trade to learn! However, I said not a word, but stalked out of the room, 
meaning to see her no more before she went. But I could not resist 
attending on her in the hall as she started; and when she took leave of us, 
she put her face up to be kissed by me, as she did by my father, and seemed 
to receive as much emotion from one embrace as from the other. 'He'll go 
out by the packet of the 1st April,' said my father, speaking of me as 
though I were a bale of goods. 'Ah! that will be so nice,' said Maria, 
settling her dress in the carriage; 'the oranges will be ripe for him 
then!'
On the 17th April I did sail, and felt still very like a bale of goods. I 
had received one letter from her, in which she merely stated that her papa 
would have a room ready for me on my arrival; and, in answer to that, I had 
sent an epistle somewhat longer, and, as I then thought, a little more to 
the purpose. Her turn of mind was more practical than mine, and I must 
confess my belief that she did not appreciate my poetry.
I landed at Cadiz, and was there joined by an old family friend, one of the 
very best fellows that ever lived. He was to accompany me up as far as 
Seville; and, as he had lived for a year or two at Xeres, was supposed to 
be more Spanish almost than a Spaniard. His name was Johnson, and he was in 
the wine trade; and whether for travelling or whether for staying at home - 
whether for paying you a visit in your own house, or whether for 
entertaining you in his - there never was (and I am prepared to maintain 
there never will be) a stancher friend, a choicer companion, or a safer 
guide than Thomas Johnson. Words cannot produce a eulogium sufficient for 
his merits. But, as I have since learned, he was not quite so Spanish as I 
had imagined. Three years among the bodegas of Xeres had taught him, no 
doubt, to appreciate the exact twang of a good, dry sherry; but not as I 
now conceive, the exactest flavour of the true Spanish character. I was 
very lucky, however, in meeting such a friend, and now reckon him as one of 
the stanchest allies of the house of Pomfret, Daguilar, and Pomfret.
He met me at Cadiz, took me about the town, which appeared to me to be of 
no very great interest - though the young ladies were all very well. But, 
in this respect, I was then a Stoic, till such time as I might be able to 
throw myself at the feet of her whom I was ready to proclaim the most 
lovely of all the Dulcineas of Andalucia. He carried me up by boat and 
railway to Xeres; gave me a most terrific headache, by dragging me out into 
the glare of the sun, after I had tasted some half a dozen different wines, 
and went through all the ordinary hospitalities. On the next day we 
returned to Puerto, and from thence getting across to St Lucar and Bonanza, 
found ourselves on the banks of the Guadalquivir, and took our places in 
the boat for Seville. I need say but little to my readers respecting that 
far-famed river. Thirty years ago we in England generally believed that on 
its banks was to be found a pure elysium of pastoral beauty; that 
picturesque shepherds and lovely maidens here fed their flocks in fields of 
asphodel; that the limpid stream ran cool and crystal over bright stones 
and beneath perennial shade; and that everything on the Guadalquivir was as 
lovely and as poetical as its name. Now, it is pretty widely known that no 
uglier river oozes down to its bourn in the sea through unwholesome banks 
of low mud. It is brown and dirty; ungifted by any scenic advantage; 
margined for miles upon miles by huge, flat, expansive fields, in which 
cattle are reared - the bulls wanted for the bull-fights among other; and 
birds of prey sit constant on the shore, watching for the carcasses of such 
as die. Such are the charms of the golden Guadalquivir.
At first we were very dull on board that steamer. I never found myself in a 
position in which there was less to do. There was a nasty smell about the 
little boat which made me almost ill; every turn in the river was so 
exactly like the last that we might have been standing still; there was no 
amusement except eating, and that, when once done, was not of a kind to 
make an early repetition desirable. Even Johnson was becoming dull, and I 
began to doubt whether I was so desirous as I once had been to travel the 
length and breadth of all Spain. But about noon a little incident occurred 
which did for a time remove some of our tedium. The boat had stopped to 
take in passengers on the river; and among others, a man had come on board 
dressed in a fashion that, to my eyes, was equally strange and picturesque. 
Indeed, his appearance was so singular that I could not but regard him with 
care, though I felt at first averse to stare at a fellow-passenger on 
account of his clothes. He was a man of about fifty, but as active 
apparently as though not more than twenty-five; he was of low stature, but 
of admirable make; his hair was just becoming grizzled, but was short and 
crisp and well cared for; his face was prepossessing, having a look of good 
humour added to courtesy, and there was a pleasant, soft smile round his 
mouth which ingratiated one at the first sight. But it was his dress rather 
than his person which attracted attention. He wore the ordinary Andalucian 
cap - of which such hideous parodies are now making themselves common in 
England - but was not contented with the usual ornament of the double tuft. 
The cap was small, and jaunty; trimmed with silk velvet - as is common here 
with men careful to adorn their persons; but this man's cap was finished 
off with a jewelled button and golden filigree work. He was dressed in a 
short jacket with a stand-up collar; and that also was covered with golden 
buttons and with golden button-holes. It was all gilt down the front, and 
all lace down the back; the rows of buttons were double; and those of the 
more backward row hung down in heavy pendules. His waistcoat was of 
coloured silk - very pretty to look at - and ornamented with a small sash, 
through which gold threads were worked. All the buttons of his breeches 
also were of gold; and there were gold tags to all the button-holes. His 
stockings were of the finest silk, and clocked with gold from the knee to 
the ankle.
Dress any Englishman in such a garb and he will at once give you the idea 
of a hog in armour. In the first place, he will lack the proper spirit to 
carry it off, and in the next place the motion of his limbs will disgrace 
the ornaments they bear. 'And so best,' most Englishmen will say. Very 
likely; and, therefore, let no Englishman try it. But my Spaniard did not 
look at all like a hog in armour. He walked slowly down the plank into the 
boat, whistling lowly, but very clearly, a few bars from an opera tune. It 
was plain to see that he was master of himself, of his ornaments, and of 
his limbs. He had no appearance of thinking that men were looking at him, 
or of feeling that he was beauteous in his attire; nothing could be more 
natural than his footfall, or the quiet glance of his cheery eye. He walked 
up to the captain who held the helm, and lightly raised his hand to his 
cap. The captain, taking one hand from the wheel, did the same, and then 
the stranger, turning his back to the stern of the vessel, and fronting 
down the river with his face, continued to whistle slowly, clearly, and in 
excellent time. Grand as were his clothes they were no burden on his mind.
'What is he?' said I, going up to my friend Johnson, with a whisper.
'Well, I've been looking at him,' said Johnson - which was true enough; 
'he's a - an uncommonly good-looking fellow, isn't he?'
'Particularly so,' said I; 'and got up quite irrespective of expense. Is he 
a - a - a gentleman, now, do you think?'
'Well, those things are so different in Spain that it's almost impossible 
to make an Englishman understand them. One learns to know all this sort of 
people by being with them in the country, but one can't explain.'
'No; exactly. Are they real gold?'
'Yes, yes; I dare say they are. They sometimes have them silver gilt.'
'It is quite a common thing, then, isn't it?' asked I.
'Well, not exactly; that - Ah! yes; I see of course. He is a torero.'
'A what?'
'A mayo. I will explain it all to you. You will see them about in all 
places, and you will get used to them.'
'But I haven't seen one other as yet.'
'No, and they are not all so gay as this, nor so new in their finery, you 
know.'
'And what is a torero?'
'Well, a torero is a man engaged in bull-fighting.'
'Oh! he is a matador, is he?' said I, looking at him with more than all my 
eyes.
'No, not exactly that; not of necessity. He is probably a mayo. A fellow 
that dresses himself smart for fairs, and will be seen hanging about with 
the bull-fighters. What would be a sporting fellow in England - only he 
won't drink and curse like a low man on the turf there. Come, shall we go 
and speak to him?'
'I can't talk to him,' said I, diffident of my Spanish. I had received 
lessons in England from Maria Daguilar, but six weeks is little enough for 
making love, let alone the learning of a foreign language.
'Oh! I'll do the talking. You'll find the language easy enough before long. 
It soon becomes the same as English to you, when you live among them.' And 
then Johnson, walking up to the stranger, accosted him with that good-
natured familiarity with which a thoroughly nice fellow always opens a 
conversation with his inferior. Of course I could not understand the words 
which were exchanged; but it was clear enough that the mayo took the 
address in good part, and was inclined to be communicative and social.
'They are all of pure gold,' said Johnson, turning to me after a minute, 
making as he spoke a motion with his head to show the importance of the 
information.
'Are they indeed?' said I. 'Where on earth did a fellow like that get 
them?' Whereupon Johnson again returned to his conversation with the man. 
After another minute he raised his hand, and began to finger the button on 
the shoulder; and to aid him in doing so the man of the bull-ring turned a 
little on one side.
'They are wonderfully well made,' said Johnson, talking to me, and still 
fingering the button. 'They are manufactured, he says, at Osuna, and he 
tells me that they make them better there than anywhere else.'
'I wonder what the whole set would cost?' said I. 'An enormous deal of 
money for a fellow like him, I should think!'
'Over twelve ounces,' said Johnson, having asked the question; 'and that 
will be more than forty pounds.'
'What an uncommon ass he must be!' said I.
As Johnson by this time was very closely scrutinising the whole set of 
ornaments I thought I might do so also, and going up close to our friend, I 
too began to handle the buttons and tags on the other side. Nothing could 
have been more good-humoured than he was - so much so that I was emboldened 
to hold up his arm that I might see the cut of his coat, to take off his 
cap and examine the make, to stuff my finger in beneath his sash, and at 
last to kneel down while I persuaded him to hold up his legs that I might 
look to the clocking. The fellow was thoroughly good-natured, and why 
should I not indulge my curiosity?
'You'll upset him if you don't take care,' said Johnson; for I got fast 
hold of him by one ankle, and was determined to finish the survey 
completely.
'Oh no, I shan't,' said I; 'a bull-fighting chap can surely stand on one 
leg. But what I wonder at is, how on earth he can afford it!' Whereupon 
Johnson again began to interrogate him in Spanish.
'He says he has got no children,' said Johnson, having received a reply, 
'and that as he has nobody but himself to look after he is able to allow 
himself such little luxuries.'
'Tell him that I say he would be better with a wife and couple of babies,' 
said I - and Johnson interpreted.
'He says that he'll think of it some of these days, when he finds that the 
supply of fools in the world is becoming short,' said Johnson.
We had nearly done with him now, but after regaining my feet I addressed 
myself once more to the heavy pendules, which hung down almost under his 
arm. I lifted one of these, meaning to feel its weight between my fingers; 
but unfortunately I gave a lurch, probably through the motion of the boat, 
and still holding by the button, tore it almost off from our friend's coat.
'Oh, I am so sorry,' I said, in broad English.
'It do not matter at all,' he said, bowing, and speaking with equal 
plainness. And then, taking a knife from his pocket, he cut the pendule 
off, leaving a bit of torn cloth on the side of his jacket.
'Upon my word, I am quite unhappy,' said I; 'but I always am so awkward.' 
Whereupon he bowed low.
'Couldn't I make it right?' said I, bringing out my purse.
He lifted his hand, and I saw that it was small and white; he lifted it, 
and gently put it upon my purse, smiling sweetly as he did so. 'Thank you, 
no, seÒor; thank you, no.' And then, bowing to us both, he walked away down 
into the cabin.
'Upon my word he is a deuced well-mannered fellow,' said I.
'You shouldn't have offered him money,' said Johnson; 'a Spaniard does not 
like it.'
'Why, I thought you could do nothing without money in this country. Doesn't 
every one take bribes?'
'Ah! yes; that is a different thing; but not the price of a button. By 
Jove! he understood English, too. Did you see that?'
'Yes; and I called him an ass! I hope he doesn't mind it.'
'Oh! no; he won't think anything about it,' said Johnson. 'That sort of 
fellows don't. I dare say we shall see him in the bull-ring next Sunday, 
and then we'll make all right with a glass of lemonade.'
And so our adventure ended with the man of the gold ornaments. I was sorry 
that I had spoken English before him so heedlessly, and resolved that I 
would never be guilty of such gaucherie again. But, then, who would think 
that a Spanish bull-fighter would talk a foreign language? I was sorry, 
also, that I had torn his coat; it had looked so awkward; and sorry again 
that I had offered the man money. Altogether I was a little ashamed of 
myself; but I had too much to look forward to at Seville to allow any 
heaviness to remain long at my heart; and before I had arrived at the 
marvellous city I had forgotten both him and his buttons.
Nothing could be nicer than the way in which I was welcomed at Mr 
Daguilar's house, or more kind - I may almost say affectionate - than 
Maria's manner to me. But it was too affectionate; and I am not sure that I 
should not have liked my reception better had she been more diffident in 
her tone, and less inclined to greet me with open warmth. As it was, she 
again gave me her cheek to kiss, in her father's presence, and called me 
dear John, and asked me specially after some rabbits which I had kept at 
home merely for a younger sister; and then it seemed as though she were in 
no way embarrassed by the peculiar circumstances of our position. Twelve 
months since I had asked her to be my wife, and now she was to give me an 
answer; and yet she was as assured in her gait, and as serenely joyous in 
her tone, as though I were a brother just returned from college. It could 
not be that she meant to refuse me, or she would not smile on me and be so 
loving; but I could almost have found it in my heart to wish that she 
would. 'It is quite possible,' said I to myself, 'that I may not be found 
so ready for this family bargain. A love that is to be had like a bale of 
goods is not exactly the love to suit my taste.' But then, when I met her 
again in the morning, I could no more have quarrelled with her than I could 
have flown.
I was inexpressibly charmed with the whole city, and especially with the 
house in which Mr Daguilar lived. It opened from the corner of a narrow, 
unfrequented street - a corner like an elbow - and, as seen from the 
exterior, there was nothing prepossessing to recommend it; but the outer 
door led by a short hall or passage to an inner door or grille, made of 
open ornamental iron-work, and through that we entered a court, or patio, 
as they called it. Nothing could be more lovely or deliciously cool than 
was this small court. The building on each side was covered by trellis-
work; and beautiful creepers, vines, and parasite flowers, now in the full 
magnificence of the early summer, grew up and clustered round the windows. 
Every inch of wall was covered, so that none of the glaring whitewash 
wounded the eye. In the four corners of the patio were four large orange-
trees, covered with fruit. I would not say a word in special praise of 
these, remembering that childish promise she had made on my behalf. In the 
middle of the court there was a fountain, and round about on the marble 
floor there were chairs, and here and there a small table, as though the 
space were really a portion of the house. It was here that we used to take 
our cup of coffee and smoke our cigarettes, I and old Mr Daguilar, while 
Maria sat by, not only approving, but occasionally rolling for me the thin 
paper round the fragrant weed with her taper fingers. Beyond the patio was 
an open passage or gallery, filled also with flowers in pots; and then, 
beyond this, one entered the drawing-room of the house. It was by no means 
a princely palace or mansion, fit for the owner of untold wealth. The rooms 
were not over large nor very numerous; but the most had been made of a 
small space, and everything had been done to relieve the heat of an almost 
tropical sun.
'It is pretty, is it not?' she said, as she took me through it.
'Very pretty,' I said. 'I wish we could live in such houses.'
'Oh, they would not do at all for dear old fat, cold, cosy England. You are 
quite different, you know, in everything from us in the south; more 
phlegmatic, but then so much steadier. The men and the houses are all the 
same.'
I can hardly tell why, but even this wounded me. It seemed to me as though 
she were inclined to put into one and the same category things English, 
dull, useful, and solid; and that she was disposed to show a sufficient 
appreciation for such necessaries of life, though she herself had another 
and inner sense - a sense keenly alive to the poetry of her own southern 
clime; and that I, as being English, was to have no participation in this 
latter charm. An English husband might do very well, the interests of the 
firm might make such an arrangement desirable, such a mariage de convenance 
- so I argued to myself - might be quite compatible with - with heaven only 
knows what delights of super-terrestrial romance, from which I, as being an 
English thick-headed lump of useful coarse mortality, was to be altogether 
debarred. She had spoken to me of oranges, and having finished the survey 
of the house, she offered me some sweet little cakes. It could not be that 
of such things were the thoughts which lay undivulged beneath the clear 
waters of those deep black eyes - undivulged to me, though no one else 
could have so good a right to read those thoughts! It could not be that 
that noble brow gave index of a mind intent on the trade of which she had 
spoken! Words of other sort than any that had been vouchsafed to me must 
fall at times from the rich curves of that perfect mouth.
So felt I then, pining for something to make me unhappy. Ah, me! I know all 
about it now, and am content. But I wish that some learned pundit would 
give us a good definition of romance, would describe in words that feeling 
with which our hearts are so pestered when we are young, which makes us 
sigh for we know not what, and forbids us to be contented with what God 
sends us. We invest female beauty with impossible attributes, and are angry 
because our women have not the spiritualised souls of angels, anxious as we 
are that they should also be human in the flesh. A man looks at her he 
would love as a distant landscape in a mountainous land. The peaks are 
glorious with more than the beauty of earth and rock and vegetation. He 
dreams of some mysterious grandeur of design which tempts him on under the 
hot sun, and over the sharp rock, till he has reached the mountain goal 
which he had set before him. But when there, he finds that the beauty is 
well-nigh gone, and as for that delicious mystery, on which his soul had 
fed, it has vanished for ever.
I know all about it now, and am, as I said, content. Beneath those deep 
black eyes there lay a well of love, good, honest, homely love, love of 
father and husband and children that were to come - of that love which 
loves to see the loved ones prospering in honesty. That noble brow - for it 
is noble; I am unchanged in that opinion, and will go unchanged to my grave 
- covers thoughts as to the welfare of many, and an intellect fitted to the 
management of a household, of servants, namely, and children, and perchance 
a husband. That mouth can speak words of wisdom, of very useful wisdom - 
though of poetry it has latterly uttered little that was original. Poetry 
and romance! They are splendid mountain views seen in the distance. So let 
men be content to see them, and not attempt to tread upon the fallacious 
heather of the mystic hills.
In the first week of my sojourn in Seville I spoke no word of overt love to 
Maria, thinking, as I confess, to induce her thereby to alter her mode of 
conduct to myself. 'She knows that I have come here to make love to her - 
to repeat my offer; and she will at any rate be chagrined if I am slow to 
do so.' But it had no effect. At home my mother was rather particular about 
her table, and Maria's greatest efforts seemed to be used in giving me as 
nice dinners as we gave her. In those days I did not care a straw about my 
dinner, and I took an opportunity of telling her. 'Dear me,' said she, 
looking at me almost with grief, 'do you not? What a pity! And do you not 
like music either?' 'Oh, yes, I adore it,' I replied. I felt sure at the 
time that had I been born in her own sunny clime, she would never have 
talked to me about eating. But that was my mistake.
I used to walk out with her about the city, seeing all that is there of 
beauty and magnificence. And in what city is there more that is worth the 
seeing? At first this was very delightful to me, for I felt that I was 
blessed with a privilege that would not be granted to any other man. But 
its value soon fell in my eyes, for others would accost her, and walk on 
the other side, talking to her in Spanish, as though I hardly existed, or 
were a servant there for her protection. And I was not allowed to take her 
arm, and thus to appropriate her, as I should have done in England. 'No, 
John,' she said, with the sweetest, prettiest smile, 'we don't do that 
here; only when people are married,' and she made this allusion to married 
life out, openly, with no slightest tremor on her tongue.
'Oh, I beg pardon,' said I, drawing back my hand, and feeling angry with 
myself for not being fully acquainted with all the customs of a foreign 
country.
'You need not beg pardon,' said she; 'when we were in England we always 
walked so. It is just a custom, you know.' And then I saw her drop her 
large dark eyes to the ground, and bow gracefully in answer to some salute.
I looked round, and saw that we had been joined by a young cavalier - a 
Spanish nobleman, as I saw at once; a man with jet black hair, and a 
straight nose, and a black moustache, and patent leather boots, very slim 
and very tall, and - though I would not confess it then - uncommonly 
handsome. I myself am inclined to be stout, my hair is light, my nose 
broad, I have no hair on my upper lip, and my whiskers are rough and 
uneven. 'I could punch your head through, my fine fellow,' said I to 
myself, when I saw that he placed himself at Maria's side, 'and think very 
little of the achievement.'
The wretch went on with us round the plaza for some quarter of an hour 
talking Spanish with the greatest fluency, and she was every whit as 
fluent. Of course, I could not understand a word that they said. Of all 
positions that a man can occupy, I think that that is about the most 
uncomfortable; and I cannot say that, even up to this day, I have quite 
forgiven her for that quarter of an hour.
'I shall go in,' said I, unable to bear my feelings, and preparing to leave 
her. ' The heat is unendurable.'
'Oh dear, John, why did you not speak before?' she answered. 'You cannot 
leave me here, you know, as I am in your charge; but I will go with you 
almost directly.' And then she finished her conversation with the Spaniard, 
speaking with an animation she had never displayed in her conversations 
with me.
It had been agreed between us for two or three days before this that we 
were to rise early on the following morning for the sake of ascending the 
tower of the cathedral, and visiting the Giralda, as the iron figure is 
called, which turns upon a pivot on the extreme summit. We had often 
wandered together up and down the long dark gloomy aisle of the stupendous 
building, and had together seen its treasury of art; but as yet we had not 
performed the task which has to be achieved by all visitors to Seville; and 
in order that we might have a clear view over the surrounding country, and 
not be tormented by the heat of an advanced sun, we had settled that we 
would ascend the Giralda before breakfast.
And now, as I walked away from the plaza towards Mr Daguilar's house, with 
Maria by my side, I made up my mind that I would settle my business during 
this visit to the cathedral. Yes, and I would so manage the settlement that 
there should be no doubt left as to my intentions and my own ideas. I would 
not be guilty of shilly-shally conduct; I would tell her frankly what I 
felt and what I thought, and would make her understand that I did not 
desire her hand if I could not have her heart. I did not value the kindness 
of her manner, seeing that that kindness sprung from indifference rather 
than passion; and so I would declare to her. And I would ask her, also, who 
was this young man with whom she was intimate for whom all her volubility 
and energy of tone seemed to be employed? She had told me once that it 
behoved her to consult a friend in Seville as to the expediency of her 
marriage to me. Was this the friend whom she had wished to consult? If so, 
she need not trouble herself. Under such circumstances I should decline the 
connection! And I resolved that I would find out how this might be. A man 
who proposes to take a woman to his bosom as his wife, has a right to ask 
for information - ay, and to receive it too. It flashed upon my mind at 
this moment that Donna Maria was well enough inclined to come to me as my 
wife, but - I could hardly define the 'buts' to myself, for there were 
three or four of them. Why did she always speak to me in a tone of childish 
affection, as though I were a schoolboy home for the holidays? I would have 
all this out with her on the tower on the following morning, standing under 
the Giralda.
On that morning we met together in the patio, soon after five o'clock, and 
started for the cathedral. She looked beautiful, with her black mantilla 
over her head, and with black gloves on, and her black morning silk dress - 
beautiful, composed, and at her ease as though she were well satisfied to 
undertake this early morning walk from feelings of good nature - sustained, 
probably, by some under-current of a deeper sentiment. Well, I would know 
all about it before I returned to her father's house.
There hardly stands, as I think, on the earth, a building more remarkable 
than the cathedral of Seville, and hardly one more grand. Its enormous 
size; its gloom and darkness; the richness of ornamentation in the details, 
contrasted with the severe simplicity of the large outlines; the variety of 
its architecture; the glory of its paintings; and the wondrous splendour of 
its metallic decoration, its altar-friezes, screens, rails, gates, and the 
like, render it, to my mind, the first in interest among churches. It has 
not the coloured glass of Chartres, or the marble glory of Milan, or such a 
forest of aisles as Antwerp, or so perfect a hue in stone as Westminster, 
nor in mixed beauty of form and colour does it possess anything equal to 
the choir of Cologne; but, for combined magnificence and awe-compelling 
grandeur, I regard it as superior to all other ecclesiastical edifices.
It is its deep gloom with which the stranger is so greatly struck on his 
first entrance. In a region so hot as the south of Spain, a cool interior 
is a main object with the architect, and this it has been necessary to 
effect by the exclusion of light; consequently the church is dark, 
mysterious, and almost cold. On the morning in question, as we entered, it 
seemed to be filled with gloom, and the distant sound of a slow footstep 
here and there beyond the transept inspired one almost with awe. Maria, 
when she first met me, had begun to talk with her usual smile, offering me 
coffee and a biscuit before I started. 'I never eat biscuit,' I said, with 
almost a severe tone, as I turned from her. That dark, horrid man of the 
plaza - would she have offered him a cake had she been going to walk with 
him in the gloom of the morning? After that, little had been spoken between 
us. She walked by my side with her accustomed smile; but she had, as I 
flattered myself, begun to learn that I was not to be won by a meaningless 
good nature. 'We are lucky in our morning for the view!' That was all she 
said, speaking with that peculiarly clear, but slow pronunciation which she 
had assumed in learning our language.
We entered the cathedral, and, walking the whole length of the aisle, left 
it again at the porter's porch at the farther end. Here we passed through a 
low door on to the stone flight of steps, and at once began to ascend. 
'There are a party of your countrymen up before us,' said Maria; 'the 
porter says that they went through the lodge half an hour since.' 'I hope 
they will return before we are on the top,' said I, bethinking myself of 
the task that was before me. And indeed my heart was hardly at ease within 
me, for that which I had to say would require all the spirit of which I was 
master.
The ascent to the Giralda is very long and very fatiguing; and we had to 
pause on the various landings and in the singular belfry in order that Miss 
Daguilar might recruit her strength and breath.
As we rested on one of these occasions, in a gallery which runs round the 
tower below the belfry, we heard a great noise of shouting and a clattering 
of sticks among the bells. 'It is the party of your countrymen who went up 
before us,' said she. 'What a pity that Englishmen should always make so 
much noise!' And then she spoke in Spanish to the custodian of the bells, 
who is usually to be found in a little cabin up there within the tower. 'He 
says that they went up shouting like demons,' continued Maria; and it 
seemed to me that she looked as though I ought to be ashamed of the name of 
an Englishman. 'They may not be so solemn in their demeanour as Spaniards,' 
I answered; 'but, for all that, there may be quite as much in them.'
We then again began to mount, and before we had ascended much farther we 
passed my three countrymen. They were young men, with grey coats and grey 
trousers, with slouched hats, and without gloves. They had fair faces and 
fair hair, and swung big sticks in their hands, with crooked handles. They 
laughed and talked loud, and, when we met them, seemed to be racing with 
each other; but nevertheless they were gentlemen. No one who knows by sight 
what an English gentleman is could have doubted that; but I did acknowledge 
to myself that they should have remembered that the edifice they were 
treading was a church, and that the silence they were invading was the 
cherished property of a courteous people.
'They are all just the same as big boys,' said Maria. The colour instantly 
flew into my face, and I felt that it was my duty to speak up for my own 
countrymen. The word 'boys' especially wounded my ears. It was as a boy 
that she treated me; but, on looking at that befringed young Spanish Don -- 
who was not, apparently, my elder in age - she had recognised a man. 
However, I said nothing further till I reached the summit. One cannot speak 
with manly dignity while one is out of breath on a staircase.
'There, John,' she said, stretching her hands away over the fair plain of 
the Guadalquivir, as soon as we stood against the parapet, 'is not that 
lovely?'
I would not deign to notice this. 'Maria,' I said, 'I think that you are 
too hard upon my countrymen.'
'Too hard! No; for I love them. They are so good and industrious; and they 
come home to their wives, and take care of their children. But why do they 
make themselves so - so - what the French call gauche?'
'Good and industrious, and come home to their wives!' thought I. 'I believe 
you hardly understand us as yet,' I answered. 'Our domestic virtues are not 
always so very prominent; but, I believe, we know how to conduct ourselves 
as gentlemen; at any rate, as well as Spaniards.' I was very angry - not at 
the faults, but at the good qualities imputed to us.
'In affairs of business, yes,' said Maria, with a look of firm confidence 
in her own opinion - that look of confidence which she has never lost, and 
I pray that she may never lose it while I remain with her - 'but in the 
little intercourses of the world, no! A Spaniard never forgets what is 
personally due either to himself or his neighbours. If he is eating an 
onion, he eats it as an onion should be eaten.'
'In such matters as that he is very grand, no doubt,' said I, angrily.
'And why should you not eat an onion properly, John? Now, I heard a story 
yesterday from Don -- about two Englishmen, which annoyed me very much.' I 
did not exactly catch the name of the Don in question, but I felt through 
every nerve in my body that it was the man who had been talking to her on 
the plaza.
'And what have they done?' said I. 'But it is the same everywhere. We are 
always abused; but, nevertheless, no people are so welcome. At any rate, we 
pay for the mischief we do.' I was angry with myself the moment the words 
were out of my mouth, for, after all, there is no feeling more mean than 
that pocket-confidence with which an Englishman sometimes swaggers.
'There was no mischief done in this case,' she answered. 'It was simply 
that two men have made themselves ridiculous for ever. The story is all 
about Seville, and, of course, it annoys me that they should be 
Englishmen.'
'And what did they do?' 'The Marquis D'Almavivas was coming up to Seville 
in the boat, and they behaved to him in the most outrageous manner. He is 
here now, and is going to give a series of fetes. Of course, he will not 
ask a single Englishman.'
'We shall manage to live, even though the Marquis D'Almavivas may frown 
upon us,' said I, proudly.
'He is the richest, and also the best of our noblemen,' continued Maria; 
'and I never heard of anything so absurd as what they did to him. It made 
me blush when Don -- told me.' Don Tomas, I thought she said.
'If he be the best of your noblemen, how comes it that he is angry because 
he has met two vulgar men? It is not to be supposed that every Englishman 
is a gentleman.'
'Angry! Oh, no! he was not angry; he enjoyed the joke too much for that. He 
got completely the best of them, though they did not know it; poor fools! 
How would your Lord John Russell behave if two Spaniards in an English 
railway carriage were to pull him about and tear his clothes?'
'He would give them in charge to a policeman, of course,' said I, speaking 
of such a matter with the contempt it deserved.
'If that were done here your ambassador would be demanding national 
explanations. But Almavivas did much better - he laughed at them without 
letting them know it.'
'But do you mean that they took hold of him violently, without any 
provocation? They must have been drunk.'
'Oh, no, they were sober enough. I did not see it, so I do not quite know 
exactly how it was, but I understand that they committed themselves most 
absurdly, absolutely took hold of his coat and tore it, and - but they did 
such ridiculous things that I cannot tell you.' And yet Don Tomas, if that 
was the man's name, had been able to tell her, and she had been able to 
listen to him.
'What made them take hold of the marquis?' said I.
'Curiosity, I suppose,' she answered. 'He dresses somewhat fancifully, and 
they could not understand that anyone should wear garments different from 
their own.' But even then the blow did not strike home upon me.
'Is it not pretty to look down upon the quiet town?' she said, coming close 
up to me, so that the skirt of her dress pressed me, and her elbow touched 
my arm. Now was the moment I should have asked her how her heart stood 
towards me; but I was sore and uncomfortable, and my destiny was before me. 
She was willing enough to let these English faults pass by without further 
notice, but I would not allow the subject to drop.
'I will find out who these men were,' said I, 'and learn the truth of it. 
When did it occur?'
'Last Thursday, I think he said.'
'Why, that was the day we came up in the boat, Johnson and myself. There 
was no marquis there then, and we were the only Englishmen on board.'
'It was on Thursday, certainly, because it was well known in Seville that 
he arrived on that day. You must have remarked him because he talks English 
perfectly - though, by-the-by, these men would go on chatting before him 
about himself as though it were impossible that a Spaniard should know 
their language. They are ignorant of Spanish, and they cannot bring 
themselves to believe that anyone should be better educated than 
themselves.'
Now the blow had fallen, and I straightway appreciated the necessity of 
returning immediately to Clapham, where my family resided, and giving up 
for ever all idea of Spanish connections. I had resolved to assert the full 
strength of my manhood on that tower, and now words had been spoken which 
left me weak as a child. I felt that I was shivering, and did not dare to 
pronounce the trust which must be made known. As to speaking of love, and 
signifying my pleasure that Don Tomas should for the future be kept at a 
distance, any such effort was quite beyond me. Had Don Tomas been there, he 
might have walked off with her from before my face without a struggle on my 
part. 'Now I remember about it,' she continued, 'I think he must have been 
in the boat on Thursday.'
'And now that I remember,' I replied, turning away to hide my 
embarrassment, 'he was there. Your friend down below in the plaza seems to 
have made out a grand story. No doubt he is not fond of the English. There 
was such a man there, and I did take hold -'
'Oh, John, was it you?'
'Yes, Donna Maria, it was I; and if Lord John Russell were to dress himself 
in the same way -' But I had no time to complete my description of what 
might occur under so extravagantly impossible a combination of 
circumstances, for as I was yet speaking the little door leading out on to 
the leads of the tower was opened, and my friend, the mayo of the boat, 
still bearing all his gewgaws on his back, stepped up on to the platform. 
My eye instantly perceived that the one pendule was still missing from his 
jacket. He did not come alone, but three other gentlemen followed him, who, 
however, had no peculiarities in their dress. He saw me at once, and bowed 
and smiled; and then observing Donna Maria, he lifted his cap from his 
head, and addressing himself to her in Spanish, began to converse with her 
as though she were an old friend.
'SeÒor,' said Maria, after the first words of greeting had been spoken 
between them; 'you must permit me to present to you my father's most 
particular friend, and my own - Mr Pomfret; John, this is the Marquis 
D'Almavivas.'
I cannot now describe the grace with which this introduction was effected, 
or the beauty of her face as she uttered the word. There was a boldness 
about her as though she had said, 'I know it all - the whole story. But, in 
spite of that you must take him on my representation, and be gracious to 
him in spite of what he has done. You must be content to do that; or in 
quarrelling with him you must quarrel with me also.' And it was done at the 
spur of the moment - without delay. She, who not five minutes since had 
been loudly condemning the unknown Englishman for his rudeness, had already 
pardoned him, now that he was known to be her friend; and had determined 
that he should be pardoned by others also or that she would share his 
disgrace. I recognised the nobleness of this at the moment; but, 
nevertheless, I was so sore that I would almost have preferred that she 
should have disowned me.
The marquis immediately lifted his cap with his left hand while he gave me 
his right. 'I have already had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman,' he 
said; 'we had some conversation in the boat together.'
'Yes,' said I, pointing to his rent, 'and you still bear the marks of our 
encounter.'
'Was it not delightful, Donna Maria,' he continued, turning to her; 'your 
friend's friend took me for a torero?'
'And it served you properly, seÒor,' said Donna Maria, laughing; 'you have 
no right to go about with all those rich ornaments upon you.'
'Oh! quite properly; indeed, I make no complaint; and I must beg your 
friend to understand, and his friend also, how grateful I am for their 
solicitude as to my pecuniary welfare. They were inclined to be severe on 
me for being so extravagant in such trifles. I was obliged to explain that 
I had no wife at home kept without her proper allowance of dresses in order 
that I might be gay.'
'They are foreigners, and you should forgive their error,' she said.
'And in token that I do so,' said the marquis, 'I beg your friend to accept 
the little ornament which attracted his attention.' And so saying, he 
pulled the identical button out of his pocket, and gracefully proffered it 
to me.
'I shall carry it about with me always,' said I, accepting it, 'as a 
memento of humiliation. When I look at it I shall ever remember the folly 
of an Englishman and the courtesy of a Spaniard,' and as I made the speech 
I could not but reflect whether it might, under any circumstances, be 
possible that Lord John Russell should be induced to give a button off his 
coat to a Spaniard.
There were other civil speeches made, and before we left the tower the 
marquis had asked me to his parties, and exacted from me an unwilling 
promise that I would attend them. 'The seÒora,' he said, bowing again to 
Maria, 'would he was sure, grace them. She had done so on the previous 
year; and as I had accepted his little present I was bound to acknowledge 
him as my friend.'
All this was very pretty, and, of course, I said that I would go, but I had 
not at that time the slightest intention of doing so. Maria had behaved 
admirably; she had covered my confusion, and shown herself not ashamed to 
own me, delinquent as I was; but, not the less, had she expressed her 
opinion, in language terribly strong, of the awkwardness of which I had 
been guilty, and had shown almost an aversion to my English character. I 
should leave Seville as quickly as I could, and should certainly not again 
put myself in the way of the Marquis D'Almavivas. Indeed, I dreaded the 
moment that I should be first alone with her, and should find myself forced 
to say something indicative of my feelings - to hear something also 
indicative of her feelings. I had come out this morning resolved to demand 
my rights and to exercise them - and now my only wish was to run away. I 
hated the marquis, and longed to be alone that I might cast his button from 
me. To think that a man should be so ruined by such a trifle!
We descended that prodigious flight without a word upon the subject, and 
almost without a word at all. She had carried herself well in the presence 
of Almavivas, and had been too proud to seem ashamed of her companion; but 
now, as I could well see, her feelings of disgust and contempt had 
returned. When I begged her not to hurry herself, she would hardly answer 
me; and when she did speak her voice was constrained and unlike herself. 
And yet how beautiful she was! Well, my dream of Spanish love must be over. 
But I was sure of this: that having known her, and given her my heart, I 
could never afterwards share it with another.
We came out at last on the dark, gloomy aisle of the cathedral, and walked 
together without a word up along the side of the choir, till we came to the 
transept. There was not a soul near us, and not a sound was to be heard but 
the distant, low pattering of a mass, then in course of celebration at some 
far-off chapel in the cathedral. When we got to the transept Maria turned a 
little, as though she was going to the transept door, and then stopped 
herself. She stood still; and when I stood also, she made two steps towards 
me, and put her hand on my arm. 'Oh, John!' she said.
'Well,' said I; 'after all it does not signify. You can make a joke of it 
when my back is turned.'
'Dearest John!' - she had never spoken to me in that way before - 'you must 
not be angry with me. It is better that we should explain to each other, is 
it not?'
'Oh, much better. I am very glad you heard of it at once. I do not look at 
it quite in the same light that you do; but nevertheless - '
'What do you mean? But I know you are angry with me. And yet you cannot 
think that I intended those words for you. Of course, I know now that there 
was nothing rude in what passed.'
'Oh, but there was.'
'No, I am sure there was not. You could not be rude though you are so free 
hearted. I see it all now, and so does the marquis. You will like him so 
much when you come to know him. Tell me that you won't be cross with me for 
what I have said. Sometimes I think that I have displeased you, and yet my 
whole wish has been to welcome you to Seville, and to make you comfortable 
as an old friend. Promise me that you will not be cross with me.'
Cross with her! I certainly had no intention of being cross, but I had 
begun to think that she would not care what my humour might be. 'Maria,' I 
said, taking hold of her hand.
'No, John, do not do that. It is in the church, you know.'
'Maria, will you answer me a question?'
'Yes,' she said, very slowly, looking down upon the stone slabs beneath our 
feet.
'Do you love me?'
'Love you!'
'Yes, do you love me? You were to give me an answer here, in Seville, and 
now I ask for it. I have almost taught myself to think that it is needless 
to ask; and now this horrid mischance -'
'What do you mean?' said she, speaking very quickly.
'Why this miserable blunder about the marquis's button! After that I 
suppose -'
'The marquis! Oh, John, is that to make a difference between you and me? - 
a little joke like that?'
'But does it not?'
'Make a change between us? - such a thing as that! Oh, John!'
'But tell me, Maria, what am I to hope? If you will say that you can love 
me, I shall care nothing for the marquis. In that case I can bear to be 
laughed at.'
'Who will dare to laugh at you? Not the marquis, whom I am sure you will 
like.'
'Your friend in the plaza, who told you of all this.'
'What, poor Tomas!'
'I do not know about his being poor. I mean the gentleman who was with you 
last night.'
'Yes, Tomas. You do not know who he is?'
'Not in the least.'
'How droll! He is your own clerk - partly your own, now that you are one of 
the firm. And, John, I mean to make you do something for him; he is such a 
good fellow; and last year he married a young girl whom I love - oh, almost 
like a sister.'
Do something for him! Of course I would. I promised, then and there, that I 
would raise his salary to any conceivable amount that a Spanish clerk could 
desire; which promise I have since kept, if not absolutely to the letter, 
at any rate, to an extent which has been considered satisfactory by the 
gentleman's wife.
'But, Maria - dearest Maria -'
'Remember, John, we are in the church; and poor papa will be waiting 
breakfast.'
I need hardly continue the story further. It will be known to all that my 
love-suit throve in spite of my unfortunate raid on the button of the 
Marquis D'Almavivas, at whose series of fetes through that month I was, I 
may boast, an honoured guest. I have since that had the pleasure of 
entertaining him in my own poor house in England, and one of our boys bears 
his Christian name.
From that day in which I ascended the Giralda to this present day in which 
I write, I have never once had occasion to complain of a deficiency of 
romance either in Maria Daguilar or in Maria Pomfret.