MADRID, _November 22, 1853_.
When I think of the snow still covering the Guadarrama, my courage fails
me. Nevertheless, the sun shines magnificently, but it shines in vain:
it gives out no warmth. The nights are abominably cold, and the soldiers
on sentry duty at the palace are required to stay out only a quarter of
an hour each. Before leaving, I wish to attend several meetings of the
Cortès, which opened day before yesterday very modestly, and without the
formality of a royal speech, His Majesty now being so near his end that
he is shielded from all excitement. I keep in touch with the political
situation here, and know a good many of the adherents of all the
parties, so that now, when we are deprived of seeing bull-fights, I find
the Cortès interesting.
Since you do not care for buttons, I will bring you some garters. It was
not without difficulty that I have found them. Civilisation is making
such rapid strides that on almost all legs elastic has replaced the
classic _ligas_ of the past. When I asked the chambermaids here to tell
me where the shops could be found, they crossed themselves in
indignation, saying that they did not wear such old-fashioned things,
and that they were fit only for the common people. French fashions are
making frightful progress. Mantillas are seldom seen. Hats, and such
hats! replace them. You would be highly amused to see the masterpieces
of the dressmakers in this capital.
Several years ago I spent a part of the day at Aranjuez, at the house of
my friend, M. Salamanca, a stock-broker. He is a bachelor, and the
wittiest and jolliest fellow I have met. He makes heaps of money,
apparently, and spends it nobly. He finds time to engage both in
business and politics, for he has been a minister, and will be again, if
he wishes it. This man is a typical Andalusian: he is grace itself.
We had, on the 15th, at the French Embassy, a ball in honor of the
fête-day of Saint Eugénie. Madame ----, the wife of the United States
Minister, appeared in a costume which made every one choke with
laughter--black velvet, edged with lace and tinsel, and a theatrical
coronet. Her son, who has the appearance of a knave, made inquiries
concerning the worth of the persons present, and after having obtained
the desired information, sent a challenge to a duke who was very noble,
very rich, exceedingly dull, and anxious to live a long time. The
negotiations are still going on, but nobody will be killed. Good-bye.