other fountains, not to make my description too tedious. You will wonder, perhaps, never to have heard any mention of this paradise either from our English travellers, or in any of the printed accounts of Italy: it is as much unknown to them as if it was guarded by a flaming cherubin. I attribute that ignorance, in part, to its being twenty-five miles distant from any post town, and also to the custom of the English of herding together, avoiding the conversation of the Italians, who, on their side, are naturally reserved, and do not seek strangers. Lady Orford could give you some knowledge of it, having passed the last six months she stayed here, in a house she hired at Salo; but as all her time was then taken up with the melancholy vapours her distresses had thrown her into, I question whether her curiosity ever engaged her to see this palace, though but half a mile from it. Oct. 25th. I was interrupted in this part of my letter by a visit from Count Martinenghi, master of this house, with his son and two daughters: they stayed till this morning, being determined to show me all the fine places on this side the lake, to engage me to grow fond of staying here, and I have had a very pleasant progress in viewing the most remarkable palaces within ten miles round. Three from hence is the little town of Maderna, where the last Duke of Mantua built a retreat worthy a sovereign. It is now in the hands of a rich merchant, who maintains it in all its beauty. It is not half so large as that where I am, but perfectly proportioned and uniform, from a design of Palladio's. The garden [is] in the style of Le Nôtre, and the furniture in the best taste of Paris. I am almost ready to confess it deserves the preference to this, though built at far less expense. The situations are as different as is possible, when both of them are between a mountain and the lake: that under which the Duke of Mantua chose to build is much lower than this, and almost sterile; the prospect of it is rather melancholy than agreeable; but the palace, being placed at the foot of it, is a mile distant from the lake, which forms a sort of peninsula, half a mile broad, and 'tis on that is the delightful garden, adorned with parterres, espaliers, all sorts of exotic plants, and ends in a thick wood, cut into ridings. That in the midst is large enough for a coach, and terminates at the lake, which appears from the windows like a great canal made on purpose to beautify the prospect. On the contrary, the palace where I lodge is so near the water, that you step out of the gate into the barge, and the gardens being all divided, you cannot view from the house above one of them at a time. In short, these two palaces may in their different beauties rival each other, while they are neither of them to be excelled in any other part of the world. I have wrote you a terrible long letter; but as you say you are often alone, it may serve you for half an hour's amusement; at least receive it as a proof that there is none more agreeable to me than giving assurances of my being, dear child, your most affectionate mother. My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grandchildren. P.S. Yours of the 23rd September is just this minute brought to me. I heartily wish you and my Lord Bute joy of his place; and wish it may have more advantageous consequences; but am glad you do not too much found hopes on things of so much uncertainty. I have read S. Fielding's works,' and should be glad to hear what is become of her. All the other books would be new to me excepting Pamela, which has met with very extraordinary (and I think undeserved) success. It has been translated into French and into Italian; it was all the fashion at Paris and Versailles, and is still the joy of the chambermaids of all nations. Direct the books to the care of Sir James Gray, the English minister at Venice. 1 Sarah (usually called Sally) Fielding, Henry Fielding's sister, who had some talents, and like himself wrote for bread. Her chief work was David Simple;" for which he furnished a preface. We believe she was the authoress of the renowned "Mrs. Peach'em," long ago supplanted by the "Emiles," "Amis des Enfans," "Adèles," and "Early Lessons," that have been pouring in upon our nurseries for the last fifty or sixty years.-W. TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. Brescia, Nov. 20, N.S. [1750]. I RECEIVED yours of October the 3rd much sooner than I have done any others of late, though it had been also opened. If I find any proper opportunity I will write you a long letter, which I do not care to hazard by the post. The great difference between this state and that of the Church has been slightly mentioned in the newspapers. It is not yet thoroughly accommodated, though much softened since I wrote. I am very glad of Lord Bute's good fortune. I have wished my daughter joy in a long letter. I do not write so copiously to you, fearing it should be troublesome to your eyes. I sent her some Italian poetry which has been much admired here. The continuation of your health is my most fervent desire, and the news of it my greatest pleasure. [TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. Salo, Nov. 20, N.S. [1750]. DEAREST MADAM,-I am extremely pleased I have at length found a method of hearing from your ladyship in a shorter time than I have hitherto done; but am sorry to hear that you return to Welbeck without passing some time at the Bath, which used to be so advantageous to your health. I need not repeat how dear that is to me. I wish you would be persuaded how valuable and necessary your life is to your family and all that know you. I am very glad my Lord Titchfield proves so much to your ladyship's satisfaction. May every year encrease it. I hear Lord Bute is of the bedchamber of the prince. I hope it may prove yet more fortunate in its consequence, though court favour is as little to be depended on as fair weather at sea. I begin to incline to your ladyship's opinion that the air of Gotolengo is not proper for me, am seeking for some other place to reside, at least some part of the year. I am at present in one of the finest places in Europe, which is to be let for a small rent. I and intend to-morrow to go see another that is recommended to me. Wherever I am, I can never be other than, dearest madam, Your ladyship's most obliged And most faithful humble servant, TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. Dec. 24, N.S. [1750]. DEAR CHILD,-I received yours of October the 28th this morning, December 24th, N.S. I am afraid a letter of two sheets of paper that I sent you from Salo never came to your hands, which I am very sorry for: it would have been, perhaps, some entertainment, being the description of places that I am sure you have not found in any book of travels. I also made my hearty congratulations to Lord Bute and yourself on his place, which I hope is an earnest of future advantages. I desired you would send me all the books of which you gave a catalogue, except H. Fielding's and his sister's, which I have already. I thank God my taste still continues for the gay part of reading. Wiser people may think it trifling, but it serves to sweeten life to ' [This letter is one of five inserted in the account of Lady Mary published in Hunter's "South Yorkshire," 1828-31, vide preface. Four of the five letters were included in Lord Wharncliffe's original collection, but the above has been omitted until now. Hunter prefaces the five letters by the statement that "The letters are addressed to her constant and intimate friend Henrietta Countess of Oxford, her relation, early neighbour, and probably the companion of her youth."] 2 Lord Bute's appointment to be of the prince's bedchamber was the subject of these congratulations.-W. In Spence's "Anecdotes" by Singer, there is an observation of Lady Orford in these words: "I wonder how anybody can find pleasure in reading the books which are that lady's chief favourites." Here we have Lady Mary's confession of her liking for works of imagination, and her defence of her taste. Lady Orford, a learned lady and a sceptic, deep in metaphysics, regarded all lighter nonsense with high disdain. In "Pompey the Little," Lady Sophister, meant for her and said to be very like her, is introduced astonishing a grave physician, whom she meets by chance at a morning visit and never saw before, by asking him abruptly "whether he believes in the immortality of the soul."-W. me, and is at worst better than the generality of conversation. I am extremely pleased with the account you give me of your father's health: his life is the greatest blessing that can happen to his family. I am very sincerely touched with the Duchess of Montague's misfortune,' though I think it no reasonable cause for locking herself up. Age and ugliness are as inseparable as heat and fire, and I think it all one in what shape one's figure grows disagreeable. I remember the Princess of Moldavia at Constantinople made a party of pleasure the next day after losing one of her eyes; and when I wondered at her philosophy, said, she had more reason to divert herself than she had before. 'Tis true our climate is apt to inspire more melancholy ideas: the enlivening heat of the sun continues the cheerfulness of youth to the grave with most people. I received a visit not long since from a fair young lady, that had new lain in of her nineteenth child; in reality she is but thirty-seven, and has so well preserved her fine shape and complexion, she appears little past twenty. I wish you the same good fortune, though not quite so numerous a posterity. Every happiness is ardently desired for you by, dear child, your most affectionate mother. P.S. My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all your little ones. I am ashamed not to have sent my token to my goddaughter; I hope to do it in a short time. TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. February 11, N.S. [1751]. I HAVE not heard from you of a long time. I hope your silence is not occasioned by any indisposition. My daughter gave me the satisfaction of letting me know you returned from the north in good health. I do not give you the trouble of long letters, fearing that reading of them might be uneasy to your sight, but I write very largely to my daughter, supposing she will communicate them to you. The snow that began to fall here the last days of November is not yet off the ground; the roads are now scarce passable. 1 I suppose she had had the small-pox. She died in 1751.-T. |