Here we are, dearest, at the end of our pilgrimage. Such a delightful
excursion I never remember to have taken. I told you all about my
fears of Lord George. Would that I had never written the ungracious
lines!--never so foully wronged him! Instead of the levity I
apprehended, he is actually reverential,--I might say, devout! The
moment he reached Parma, he ordered a dress to be made for him exactly
like James's, and decided immediately on accompanying us. Fra Giacomo,
I need scarcely observe, was in ecstasies. The prospect of such a noble
convert would be an immense piece of success, and he did not hesitate to
avow, would materially advance his own interests at Rome.
As for the journey, Kitty, I have no words to describe the scenery
through which we travelled: deep glens between lofty mountains, wooded
to the very summits with cork and chestnut trees, over which, towering
aloft, were seen the peaks of the great Apennines, glistening in snow,
or golden in the glow of sunset. Wending along through these our little
procession went, in itself no unpicturesque feature, for we were obliged
to advance in single file along the narrow pathway, and thus our mules,
with their scarlet trappings and tasselled bridles, and our floating
costumes, made up an effect which will remain painted on my heart
forever. In reality, I made a sketch of the scene; but Lord George, who
for the convenience of talking to me always rode with his face to the
mule's tail, made me laugh so often that my drawing is quite spoiled.
[Illustration: frontispiece]
At last we arrived at our little inn called "La Pace,"--how beautifully
it sounds, dearest! and really stands so, too, beside a gushing
mountain-stream, and perfectly embowered in olives. We could only obtain
two rooms, however,--one, adjoining the kitchen, for papa and mamma;
the other, under the tiles, for Cary and myself. Fra Giacomo quarters
himself on the priest of the village; and Lord George and James are what
the Italians call "_a spasso_" Betty Cobb is furious at being consigned
to the kitchen, in company with some thirty others, many of whom, I may
remark, are English people of rank and condition. In fact, dearest, the
whole place is so crowded that a miserable room, in all its native dirt
and disgust, costs the price of a splendid apartment in Paris. Many of
the first people of Europe are here: ministers, ambassadors, generals;
and an English earl also, who is getting a drawing made of the shrine
and the Virgin, and intends sending a narrative of her miracles to
the "Tablet." You have no idea, my dearest Kitty, of the tone of
affectionate kindness and cordiality inspired by such a scene. Dukes,
Princes, even Royalties, accost you as their equals. As Fra G. says,
"The holy influences level distinctions." The Duke of San Pietrino
placed his own cushion for mamma to kneel on yesterday. The Graf von
Dummerslungen gave me a relic to kiss as I passed this morning. Lord
Tollington, one of the proudest peers in England, stopped to ask papa
how he was, and regretted we had not arrived last Saturday, when the
Virgin sneezed twice!
As we begin our Novena to-morrow, I shall probably not have a moment to
continue this rambling epistle; but you may confidently trust that my
first thoughts, when again at liberty, shall be given to you. Till then,
darling Kitty, believe me,