Trollope," he writes, "I am ashamed to think either of
you or of other friends at Florence; it is such an age since I have
written to any of you. But I have been daily, from morning to night,
hard at work for weeks. The _honour_ of having a command is all very
well, but the trouble and worry are unspeakable. Besides, I had such
a set under me that it was enough to rile the sweetest tempered man.
Volunteers may be very well in their way. I doubt not their efficiency
in repelling an attack in their own country. But defend me from ever
again commanding a brigade of English volunteers in a foreign country.
As to the officers, many were most mutinous, and some something worse.
Thank goodness the brigade is at an end. All I now wait for is the
settlement of the accounts. If I can get away by the second week in
February, I at present think of taking a run as far as Cairo, then
crossing to Jerusalem, and back by Jaffa, Beyrout, Smyrna, and Athens
to Italy, when I shall hope once more to see you and yours.
"Politics do not look well in Southern Italy, I fear. The Mazzinists
have been most active, and have got up a rather strong feeling against
Cavour and what they think the peace party. Now Italy must have a
little rest for organisation, civil as well as military. They do not
give the Government time to do or even propose good measures for
the improvement of the country. No sooner are one set of ministers
installed than intrigues are on foot to upset them.
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