CARABANCHEL, _September 11, 1853_.
... Upon my arrival here I found every one occupied in preparations to
celebrate the anniversary of the hostess. They were to play a comedy and
to recite a _Loa_[15] in honour of herself and of her daughter. I was
called upon to manufacture skies, mend decorations, design costumes,
and so on, not to mention the rehearsals I conducted for five
mythological divinities, only one of whom had ever taken part in private
theatricals. My goddesses were very pretty yesterday, the eventful day,
but they were dying with stage-fright; however, everything passed well.
There was loud applause, although no one understood the absurd rigmarole
of verses strung together by the poetic author of the _Loa_.
The comedy, which was a translation of _Bonsoir, Monsieur Pantalon_, was
even better. I admire, indeed, the facility with which young society
girls are transformed into fairly good actresses. At the close of the
play there was a ball, followed by supper, during which a young ward of
the countess improvised some graceful verses, which caused the heroine
of the feast to shed tears, and all the guests to drink assiduously.
This morning I have a sorry head, and the sun is deuced warm.
I am going to Madrid to see the bull-fights, and must leave my goddesses
for two or three days in order to make my visits and work in the
library. As there are nine ladies in the house, without a man, they call
me in Madrid “Apollo.” Of the nine muses, there are, unfortunately,
five who are the mothers or the aunts of the other four; but these four
are Andalusians, with severe little airs, which become them charmingly,
especially when they wear their Olympian costume, with peplums, which
they, from love of euphony, insist on calling _peplo_.
You have, doubtless, less beautiful weather than we are having here....