The 20th, or thereabouts, is the time to go up the Sierra Nevada. I am thinking of taking my wife that trip, so you may imagine it is not attended with much difficulty. It is a glorious mountain, though the dog-days have played the devil with the snow. Still there is enough left to swear by, and to cool one’s wine. By God’s blessing, a quarter-cask of sherry has made its appearance in Granada, otherwise you would have got nothing but Bara, a sort of clarety-porty wine, not bad in water, but very disagreeable to British officers, as they find it too weak to drink in goblets this hot weather. The weather has been very hot, but getting cooler,—down to 72 at night.
You will have a terrible bad road to Jaen, and I should set out very early, before 4, and get into Jaen before the great heat of the day. Set out again early for Campillo de la Arena, half way to Granada. I remained there four or five hours in the day, and came on in the night, getting here very early in the morning. I would, however, not recommend that to you. You had better sleep at Campillo, where you will get partridges, on asking if there are any to be bought in the village.
By setting out betimes, you will get here in nine or ten hours, and I will take care and have a roast pavito [young cock turkey], which is equivalent to a London fowl, ready for you.
My wife is frightened at the thoughts of our cuisine, but I assure her that you are an ex-dyspeptic, and not very difficult, rather more in that you do not eat than in what you do.
My Spanish servant (who calls himself my major duomo) wants me to borrow a service of plate, and have the dinners sent up from the inn!! Lord deliver us! They are curious people, muy Etiqueteros (I can’t even spell the word), and think we are as great asses as themselves. What we have here are delicious eggs—laid under your window, fine fruit, tolerable mutton, good bread and water, and a jack for roasting, the only one in Granada, to say nothing of cool breezes, cool fountains (though they don’t play), much shade, many nightingales (though they don’t sing now), and plenty of snow, and a view, from the windows and all about, passing all understanding; but you will see with your own eyes and hear with your own ears, so no more for the present.
Alhambra, June 22 [1831].
Dear Addington,
I am going to give you proper and business-like answers to your six questions, and I think satisfactory ones to all.
1. The inn is the best in Spain, but very crowded and very hot, a long way from the Alhambra, and all up hill—quite out of the question, except early and late. You may, to be sure, ride up, and General O’Lawlor will send you a horse whenever you want; but I enclose you a plan of my dwelling up here, which is very spacious, and where I can accommodate you well and without the least inconvenience. You will then see the Alhambra in your dressing-gown, cool and comfortable, and never get heated or tired. You will, too, be within reach of the Generalife, which, if possible, is more beautiful than the Alhambra. It is about as high above the Alhambra as the Alhambra is above the town; but a tolerable shady walk through fig-trees, vines and pomegranates.
2. The getting here will be easily accomplished in a coche—that is, every bone will be broken, but, however, get here you will. I should take the diligence to Baylen, and thence in one day to Jaen in the coche. The road, I am told, is tolerable. I came from Andujar, which would be out of your way—the road the most infernal ever seen. From Jaen to Granada it is magnificent; Macadam never made a better, and the scenery most beautiful and picturesque. We came in one day—that is, left Jaen early, 3 a.m., arrived at Campillo de Arenas about 1, halted till 5, eating salad and Guisado de Perdices at the Venta; thence per night to Granada, where we arrived about 4 a.m. The whole journey from Jaen takes about twenty hours en route. You might do it quicker without Miquelites, as it is a long pull (seventeen leagues) for men to walk in one day; thermometer at 3000, and up hill. Now if your plans really do ripen into reality, what you should do is this: let me know the day you leave Madrid; the third night you will get to Andujar or Baylen. I will send over the identical coche which brought us, a roomy one with four mules, and an excellent majoral, who will buy you partridges at the Venta, etc. The cost will be 29 dollars for the six days there and back. I will manage with O’Lawlor that a troop of Miquelites, eight or nine, shall be picked men, and sent with the coche. I gave them 25 dollars for nine men eight days. They generally get a pezeta apiece, but half a dollar is what they well deserve, as they are fine fellows.