If you have time, in all the misery of packing up and departure, to write me a line, I shall be very glad to know when you are going and what are your plans. I am sure I am most thankful to the Whigs for their forbearance, as I verily believe, had you not furnished me with the Galignani (to say nothing of much and friendly hospitality on all and many occasions), I could not have survived in this land of darkness. The papers say George Villiers is to be your successor. He is a very clever, high-bred man, muy rubio and an elegante; he will please the Madrilenas. I should doubt if he knew a word of Spanish, which he will find a pretty considerable desideratum.
We are here enjoying the most beautiful weather, and one would hardly suppose, on looking at the blue sky and bright sun, that there was cholera in the world.
The summer has been unusually warm, and old Picacho has taken off his white nightcap in consequence of the heat. I went up to the Barranco de Sⁿ. Juan with Head,[38] who is a well-informed, agreeable companion, and is filling his portfolio and pericranium with all sorts of Spanish memoranda.
Don José is in statu quo, and has had another baby born to him. I occasionally stroll with him in the Alameda, and listen to his old campaigns and how the Duke “flaked” the French on all occasions. I am reading the masterly work of Napier, and O’Lawlor is quite a commentator. Quæque ipse miserrima vidi et quorum pars magna fui.
You won’t be tempted to run down here in the diligence, and go home in the October packet?
Brackenbury was at Seville, gone to see the paintings of Mr. Roberts, which I hear are very fine;[39] but the news at Huelva sent him off per steamer to his post at Cadiz.
I fear the wise Whigs will find their protégé in Portugal in a mess; we hear every day of the country rising against Dom Pedro. O’Lawlor considers his troubles as now beginning. Your troubles and mine are fast drawing to an end.
Sept. 21, 1833, Madrid.
We arrived here at last this morning, after a most distressing journey, in consequence of the detentions and discomforts occasioned on the road by the singular precautions taken in the towns against the approach of the cholera. These are so very absurd, and so totally calculated to defeat the object in view, that I think some account of what took place may possibly interest you.
As I had to travel with a sick wife, four small children—one of them only weaned a few days—I made many enquiries of General Abadia and the administrador of the diligence at Granada whether any difficulties would be offered on the road, with a view of making some sort of preparation; but, having been assured that none would, I ventured forth on Wednesday morning. We reached Jaen without interruption, but on our arrival found a guard of soldiers drawn up across the road, with many of the inhabitants behind them. The diligence was stopped, though it could only come from Granada; and though all other carriages coming from Granada were admitted at once, a precaution taken against the diligence only, which on the contrary ought to have been the least suspected, both from the forms of its institution and the decency of travellers who proceed by such a conveyance. The mayoral got down, and entered into close communication with the soldiers and people, collected all the passports, and gave them into the hand of a person appointed to receive them. The passengers then alighted, and mingled with the assembled people until the passports were returned.