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,choicer companion,or a safer guide than Thomas Johnson.
Words cannot produce a eulogium sufficient for his merits.But,as Ihave 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 Imight 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 every thing 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 bullfights among other;and birds of prey sit constant on the shore,watching for the carcases 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 Icould 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.
