Duke de Beaujolais, I only met him out walking; he
seemed to have a passably good face and to be very lively. The Duke de
Montpensier sometimes came for me, and we would go out sketching
together. He took me to the terrace at Richmond, whence the view is
magnificent. From that eminence you survey a considerable part of the
river's course. We also went over the lovely meadow where the trunk of
the tree under which Milton sat may still be seen. It was there, so I
was informed, that he composed his poem of "Paradise Lost."
Altogether, the surroundings of Twickenham were highly interesting;
the Duke de Montpensier knew them to perfection, and I congratulated
myself on having him for my guide, the more as this young prince was
exceedingly kind and sympathetic.

I had engaged to paint a portrait of the Margravine of Anspach, who
asked me to stay with her for a few days in the country so that I
might redeem my promise. As I had heard that the Margravine was an
eccentric woman, who would not allow me a moment's peace, would have
me waked at five every morning, and do a thousand equally intolerable
things, I accepted her invitation only after stipulating certain
terms. First I requested a room where I should hear no noises, on the
ground that I wished to get up late. Then I warned her that in case we
went driving anywhere I never talked in a carriage, and that I
preferred walking alone. The good lady agreed to everything and kept
her word religiously. If I accidentally came upon her in her park,
where she would often be working like a day-labourer, she pretended
not to see me, and let me pass without opening her mouth. Perhaps the
Margravine of Anspach had been slandered, or perhaps she was obliging
enough to put constraint upon herself for my sake; at all events, I
felt so much at ease while under her roof that, when I was bidden to
another country-place belonging to her, called Blenheim, I went
without hesitation. There the park and the house were far better than
at Armesmott, and the time went by in a most agreeable manner.
Charming evening parties, plays, music--nothing lacked; indeed, though
pledged to stay but one week, I remained, instead, three.

I made some expeditions on the water with the Margravine. On one
occasion we landed at the Isle of Wight, which stands high on a rock,
and reminds one of Switzerland. This island is noted for the mild and
gentle ways of its inhabitants. They all live together, I was told,
like