John Bull on the Guadalquivir

JOHN BULL ON THE GUADALQUIVIR.
from "Tales from all Countries"
by Anthony Trollope

I am an Englishman, living, as all Englishman should do, in England,
and my wife would not, I think, be well pleased were any one 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, chief offender; but, nevertheless, I rarely see in one of our own
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 the marriage to his partner exactly as he would have proposed
a division of assets. My mother declared that Maria was a foolish
chit--in which by-the-bye she showed her entire ignorance of Miss
Daguilar's character; my eldest sister begged that no constraint might
he 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