John Bull on the Guadalquivir | Page 3

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 like a hog in armour. He walked slowly down
the plank into the boat, whistling lowly but very clearly a few bars from
a 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 foot-fall, or the quiet
glance of his cheery gray 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