TO MR. WORTLEY MONtagu.

Brescia, Nov. 24, N.S. [1746].

I BRAGGED too soon of my good health, which lasted but two days after my last letter. I was then seized with so violent a fever that I am surprised a woman of my age could be capable of it. I have kept my bed two months, and am now out of it but a few hours in the day. I did not mention in my last (thinking it an insignificant circumstance) that Count Palazzo had wrote to his mother (without my knowledge) to advertise her of my arrival. She came to meet me in her coach and six, and it was impossible to resist her importunity of going to her house, where she would keep me, till I had found a lodging to my liking. I had chose one when I wrote to you, and counted upon going there the beginning of the week following, but my violent illness (being, as all the physicians thought, in the utmost danger) made it utterly impossible. The Countess Palazzo has taken as much care of me as if I had been her sister, and omitted no expense or trouble to serve me. I am still with her, and indeed in no condition of moving at present.' I am now in a sort of milk diet, which is prescribed me to restore my strength. From being as fat as Lady Bristol, I am grown leaner than anybody I can name. For my own part, I think myself in a natural decay. However, I do what I am ordered. know not how to acknowledge enough my obligations to the countess; and I reckon it a great one from her who is a dévote, that she never brought any priest to me. My woman, who is a zealous French Huguenot, I believe would have tore his eyes out. During my whole illness it seemed her chief concern. I hope your health continues good.

I

[ This enforced seclusion seems to have been the foundation of Horace Walpole's story of Lady Mary being "in durance in the Brescian.. that a young fellow whom she set out with keeping has taken it into his head to keep her close prisoner," etc., vide Walpole's letter to Mann, Aug. 31, 1751. The story is dealt with in the Memoir.]

TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD.

[Came to London, Tuesday, April 14th, 1747, O.S.; came to Welbeck Thursday, April 16th, 1747, O.S.]

Brescia, March 1, N.S. [1747].

DEAREST MADAM,-Your ladyship's obliging letter of January 17th, O.S., came to me yesterday; it gave me great pleasure, and at the same time mortification on reflecting that you should suffer so much uneasiness on my account. I am now (I think I may say) quite recovered, which is almost a miracle. I believe few people of my age ever did, of so severe and so long a fit of sickness. I hope you think me in the right in leaving Avignon, which is now all full of miserable refugees; France I should not have been permitted to stay in, and I am quiet in a republic that is in our alliance, which is all the present aim that I have. Your ladyship says nothing of your own health; I flatter myself it is good; I beg of you that you will never give yourself any concern about mine. My life is useless to the world, and (almost) tiresome to myself.

I did not know Mrs. Stanton was dead. I have so few correspondents in England, that everything from thence is news to me. I never received your ladyship's letter of August 23rd, which I suppose was owing to my removal. That part of Italy I passed in coming hither, has suffered so much by the war, that it is quite different from when I left it. I wish every Englishman was as sensible as I am of the terrible effects of arbitrary government, some of the most plentiful parts of the world being reduced to near a famine. This province, which is free from troops, enriches itself by the poverty of its neighbours, which occasions all provisions to be as dear as in England. The carnival here has been very gay and magnificent; I had no share of either, being at that time confined to my chamber, and having no taste for diversions of that nature. In all situations I am ever, dearest madam, with the tenderest affections of my heart,

Your ladyship's most faithful

And most obedient servant.

TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD.

[Came to London, Wednesday, July 15th, O.S.; came to Welbeck Saturday, July 18th, O.S.]

Brescia, July 1 [1747].

DEAREST MADAM,-'Tis so long since I have had the honour of hearing from you, that I cannot help being in concern for your health; mine is much mended by the country air, and the great regularity with which I live. I flatter myself it is the fault of the post, that I have not the happiness of hearing from you. I pray for peace on many accounts, but chiefly that our correspondence may become more certain. I can say with truth 'tis the only pleasure of my life, and 'tis no small one, to think I have a friend of your merit.

I am told Lord Coke' is married to Lady M. Campbell: I knew him when he was at Venice, and believe her economy will be a very necessary ally to the expensiveness of his temper. Mr. Wortley (who is the only correspondent I have in London except my daughter) tells me you have made Welbeck a very delightful place: it was always so by the situation, I do not doubt of the improvement by your good taste. If wishes had the power of conveying the person, your ladyship would soon see me there, but I fear there is not so much felicity in store for me. God's will be done! wherever I am, I can never be other than, with the tenderest affection,

Your ladyship's most faithful devoted servant.

TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE.

Lovere, July 24, N.S. [1747].

DEAR CHILD, I am now in a place the most beautifully romantic I ever saw in my life: it is the Tunbridge of this part of the world, to which I was sent by the doctor's

1 Edward Lord Coke, only son of Thomas Earl of Leicester, married Mary, daughter of John Duke of Argyll, in the spring of 1747.-W. See note on letter to the Countess of Bute, May 27, 1749.-T.

order, my ague often returning, notwithstanding the loads of bark I have taken. To say truth, I have no reason to repent my journey, though I was very unwilling to undertake it, it being forty miles, half by land and half by water; the land so stony I was almost shook to pieces, and I had the ill luck to be surprised with a storm on the lake, that if I had not been near a little port (where I passed a night in a very poor inn), the vessel must have been lost. A fair wind brought me hither next morning early. I found a very good lodging, a great deal of good company, and a village in many respects resembling Tunbridge Wells, not only in the quality of the waters, which is the same, but in the manner of the buildings, most of the houses being separate at little distances, and all built on the sides of hills, which indeed are far different from those of Tunbridge, being six times as high: they are really vast rocks of different figures, covered with green moss, or short grass, diversified by tufts of trees, little woods, and here and there vineyards, but no other cultivation, except gardens like those on Richmond-hill. The whole lake,' which is twenty-five miles long, and three broad, is all surrounded with these impassable mountains, the sides of which, towards the bottom, are so thick set with villages (and in most of them gentlemen's seats), that I do not believe there is anywhere above a mile distance one from another, which adds very much to the beauty of the prospect.

We have an opera here, which is performed three times in the week. I was at it last night, and should have been surprised at the neatness of the scenes, goodness of the voices, and justness of the actors, if I had not remembered I was in Italy. Several gentlemen jumped into the orchestra, and joined in the concert, which I suppose is one of the freedoms of the place, for I never saw it in any great town. I was yet more amazed (while the actors were dressing for the farce that concluded the entertainment) to see one of the principal among them, and as errant a petit maître as if he had passed all his life at Paris, mount the stage, and present us with a cantata of his own performing. He had the pleasure of being almost deafened with applause. The ball began afterwards, but I was not witness of it, ['i.e. of Iseo, as printed by Lord Wharncliffe.]

having accustomed myself to such early hours, that I was half asleep before the opera finished: it begins at ten o'clock, so that it was one before I could get to bed, though I had supped before I went, which is the custom.

I am much better pleased with the diversions on the water, where all the town assembles every night, and never without music; but we have none so rough as trumpets, kettle-drums, and French horns: they are all violins, lutes, mandolins, and flutes doux. Here is hardly a man that does not excel in some of these instruments, which he privately addresses to the lady of his affections, and the public has the advantage of it by his adding to the number of the musicians.

The fountain where we drink the waters rises between two hanging hills, and is overshadowed with large trees, that give a freshness in the hottest time of the day. The provisions are all excellent, the fish of the lake being as large and well tasted as that of Geneva, and the mountains abounding in game, particularly blackcocks, which I never saw in any other part of Italy: but none of the amusements here would be so effectual to raising my spirits as a letter from you. I have received none since that of February 27. I do not blame you for it, but my ill fortune, that will not let me have that consolation. The newspaper informs me that the Chevalier Gray (so he is styled) is appointed minister at Venice. I wish you would let me know who he is, intending to settle our correspondence through his hands. I did not care to ask that favour of Lord Holdernesse.2

Dear child, I am ever your most affectionate mother. My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all your little ones. Direct as usual.

Horace Walpole's aristocratic prejudice appears to have been rudely shocked by the appointment. In a letter to his friend, Sir Horace Mann, dated Jan. 28, 1754, he writes: "What weight do you think family has here when the very last minister whom we have dispatched is Sir James Gray-nay, and who has already been in a public character at Venice? His father was first a boxkeeper, and then footman to James the Second." Sir James was one of the party of diners who were popularly believed to have thrown a calf's head in a napkin out of a tavern window in Suffolkstreet, on the 30th of January, 1735, as an insult to the memory of King Charles. The affair led to a riot. See letters of A. Smyth and Lord Middlesex, in Appendix to Mr. Singer's edition of Spence's Anecdotes.-T. 2 Robert fourth Earl of Holdernesse. He was appointed in 1744 ambassador extraordinary to Venice, which place he quitted in 1746.—T.