To an Englishman the remembrance of a journey to Italy is
often more delightful than that of any other country, for no
where else is his arrogance more patiently endured, his
eccentricities more humourously indulged, nor the generos-
ity of his character more publicly acknowledged.

BENJAMIN WEST, on leaving Italy in 1763

By good fortune that 'hearty old cock', General Graeme, happened
to be in London in the spring of 1760 and as England was still at
war with France he agreed to smuggle James out to Venice in the
guise of a Jacobite officer. 'I was obliged to pass an hour at Lord
Bute's waiting-room till the General was allowed to go', James
reported in his farewell letter to his mother, written from Harwich
on May 7 while he and his draughtsman George Richardson were
waiting to board the packet for Helvoetsluys. At the Hague, four
days later, he found that 'a sort of reserve' would be necessary 'in
case oil enquiries', but General Graeme presented him to the British
Minister, Philip Yorke, and later to the Prince of Nassau Weilburg
who invited them both to a ball -- a brilliant occasion with 'upwards
of eight hundred persons', James wrote to Alexander Carlyle, 'all
elegantly dressed. . . . The Prince did me the honour to take notice
of my dress which was scarlet and gold and told me with politeness
altogether French that he was sensible of the honour I did him in
coming to his fete.' A few days later they were dining with the
Prince of Hesse Philipstall at Breda -- 'my old Tournai acquaintance'
James called him -- and soon Mon Prince and Votre Altesse were
tripping off his tongue as easily as if he had spent all his life in the
courts of Europe.

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