‘Overwhelmed as he was with work in England at the time, it was no easy matter for him to leave the country for a couple of months; and I remember that our starting at all was uncertain up to the last moment; and that, an hour before quitting London, it was only by a coup de théâtre, which he most adroitly performed, that he escaped the serving of a subpœna, the bearer of which had actually penetrated to the dining-room door in Duke Street.
‘We left London one evening in April 1842. During our journey we constantly passed several consecutive days and nights in the carriage; and I am sure there was not one of our waking hours in which some incident of interest did not occur.
‘I remember your father agreeing with me, that our experiences merely of post-boys and their various characteristics would be worthy of recording in detail—from Newman’s two smart lads, who took us the first stage out of London, on to the genuine “postillon” (boots and all) we found at Calais; then to the wild young brigands (in appearance) who, inspired by the prospect of extra “buon mano,” whirled us along the road from Civita Vecchia towards Rome, and winding up with the stolid German who rose slowly in his stirrups, and distracted us by a melancholy performance on the horn slung round him, and which no entreaty would induce him to give up.
‘We posted from Calais, viâ Paris, to Châlons-sur-Saône, marvelling the whole way whereabouts “La Belle France” was to be found; for a drearier and more utterly monotonous ride of something like 800 miles it is impossible to conceive. From Châlons we went down the river to Lyons, then onwards, visiting Nismes, and through Arles to Toulon.
‘From Toulon we went through Cannes and Nice and along the lovely Cornice road to Genoa. Your father was intensely delighted with this portion of the journey. Those wonderfully picturesque towns, with their roccoco churches looking like toys, and painted all over upon the principle of colour generally developed in that species of art, especially interested him. The streets were so narrow that it was sometimes doubtful whether the carriage could be squeezed through, and more than once it grazed the houses on either side as it passed on.
‘The work for which your father had come to Italy commenced at Genoa, and he was met there by a staff appointed by the Government to accompany him during his stay.
‘While at Genoa he came to me one morning and said, that, in consequence of some delay, he had a week in which to make complete holiday, and gave me the choice of Florence or Rome. I need scarcely say that I chose Rome, and for three days we were in the Eternal City, seeing more in that time than those to whom we related our proceedings could believe.
‘How well do I remember our entering Rome by the gate on the Civita Vecchia road, and standing up in the carriage to get our first view of St. Peter’s, and, having seen it, the blank look of disappointment we turned on each other at the sight! But the interior of the great church as far exceeded our expectations as the exterior had fallen short of them.
‘We were back at Genoa to the minute your father had appointed; and the work being completed there, we went on to Turin. Here we were in time to be present at the Court balls and ceremonies consequent upon the marriage of the present King of Italy.
‘From Turin we proceeded to Milan.