was dreaming dreams; in short, I had dined at Livry; yes, yes, at Livry, with a Langlade and De la Rochefoucaulds. The abbey is now possessed by an Abbé de Malherbe, with whom I am acquainted, and who had given me a general invitation. I put it off to the last moment, that the bois and allées might set off the scene a little, and contribute to the vision; but it did not want it. Livry is situated in the Forêt de Bondi, very agreeably on a flat, but with hills near it, and in prospect. There is a great air of simplicity and rural about it more regular than our taste, but with an old-fashioned tranquillity, and nothing of colifichet. Not a tree exists that remembers the charming woman, because in this country an old tree is a traitor, and forfeits its head to the crown; but the plantations are not young, and might very well be as they were in her time. The Abbé's house is decent and snug; a few paces from it is the sacred pavilion built for Madame de Sévigné by her uncle, and much as it was in her day; a small saloon below for dinner, then an arcade, but the niches now closed, and painted in fresco with medallions of her, the Grignan, the Fayette, and the Rochefoucauld. Above, a handsome large room, with a chimney-piece in the best taste of Louis the Fourteenth's time; a holy family in good relief over it, and the cypher of her uncle Coulanges; a neat little bed-chamber within, and two or three clean little chambers over them. On one side of the garden leading to the great road, is a little bridge of wood, on which the dear woman used to wait for the courier that brought her daughter's letters. Judge with what veneration and satisfaction I set my foot upon it! If you will come to France with me next year, we will go and sacrifice on that sacred spot together.

On the road to Livry I passed a new house, on the pilasters of the gate to which were two sphynxes in stone, with their heads coquetly reclined, straw hats, and French cloaks slightly pinned, and not hiding their bosoms. I don't know whether I or Memphis would have been more diverted. I shall set out this day se'nnight, the tenth, and be in London about the fifteenth or sixteenth, if the wind is fair. Adieu! Yours ever.

P.S. I need not say, I suppose, that this letter is to Mr. Chute, too.

1052. TO THE HON. H. S. CONWAY.

Paris, April 6, 1766.

In a certain city of Europe' it is the custom to wear slouched hats, long cloaks, and high capes. Scandal and the government called this dress going in mask, and pretended that it contributed to assassination. An ordonnance was published, commanding freeborn hats to be cocked, cloaks to be shortened, and capes laid aside. All the world obeyed for the first day; but the next, everything returned into its old channel. In the evening a tumult arose, and cries of "God bless the King! God bless the kingdom! but confusion to Squillaci, the prime minister." The word was no sooner given, but his house was beset, the windows broken, and the gates attempted. The guards came and fired on the weavers' of cloaks. The weavers returned the fire, and many fell on each side. As the hour of supper approached and the mob grew hungry, they recollected a tax upon bread, and demanded the repeal. The King yielded to both requests, and hats and loaves were set at liberty. The people were not contented, and still insisted on the permission of murdering the first minister; though his Majesty assured his faithful commons that the minister was never consulted on acts of government, and was only his private friend, who sometimes called upon him in an evening to drink a glass of wine and talk botany. The people were incredulous, and continued in mutiny when the last letters came away. If you should happen to suppose, as I did, that this history arrived in London, do not be alarmed; for it was at Madrid and a nation who has borne the inquisition cannot support a cocked hat. So necessary it is for governors to know when lead or a feather will turn the balance of human understandings, or will not!

I should not have entrenched on Lord George's province of sending you news of revolutions, but he is at Aubigné; and I thought it right to advertise you in time, in case you should have a mind to send a bale of slouched hats to the support of the

1 This account alludes to the insurrection at Madrid, on the attempt of the court to introduce the French dress in Spain.-WALPOLE.

2 Squillaci, an Italian, whom the King was obliged to banish.-WALPOLE.

3 Alluding to the mobs of silk-weavers which had taken place in London.-WALPOLE.

4 Lord George Lenox, only brother to the Duke of Richmond.- WALPOLE.

mutineers. As I have worn a flapped hat all my life, when I have worn any at all, I think myself qualified, and would offer my service to command them; but, being persuaded that you are a faithful observer of treaties, though a friend to repeals, I shall come and receive your commands in person. In the mean time I cannot help figuring what a pompous protest my Lord Lyttelton might draw up in the character of an old grandee against the revocation of the act for cocked hats.

Lady Ailesbury forgot to send me word of your recovery, as she promised; but I was so lucky as to hear it from other hands. Pray take care of yourself, and do not imagine that you are as weak as I am, and can escape the scythe, as I do, by being low: your life is of more consequence. If you don't believe me, step into the street and ask the first man you meet.

This is Sunday, and Thursday is fixed for my departure, unless the Clairon should return to the stage on Tuesday se'nnight, as is said; and I do not know whether I should not be tempted to borrow two or three days more, having never seen her: yet my lilacs [at Strawberry] pull hard, and I have not a farthing left in the world. Be sure you do not leave a cranny open for George Grenville to wriggle in, till I have got all my things out of the Custom House. Adieu ! Yours ever.

1053. TO THE HON. H. S. CONWAY.

Paris, April 8, 1766.

I SENT you a few lines by the post yesterday with the first accounts of the insurrections at Madrid. I have since seen Stahremberg,' the imperial minister, who has had a courier from thence; and if Lord Rochford has not sent one, you will not be sorry to know more particulars. The mob disarmed the Invalids; stopped all coaches, to prevent Squillaci's flight; and meeting the Duke de Medina Celi, forced him and the Duke d'Arcos to carry their demands to the King. His most frightened Majesty granted them directly; on which his highness the people despatched a monk with their demands in writing, couched in four articles: the diminution of the gabel on bread and oil; the revocation of the

1 Prince Stahremberg: he had married a daughter of the Duc d'Arembert, by his Duchess, née la Marcke.-WALPOLE.

2 William Henry Zuleistein de Nassau, Earl of Rochford, who was at this time the English ambassador-extraordinary at the court of Spain.—WALPOLE.

ordonnance on hats and cloaks; the banishment of Squillaci; and the abolition of some other tax, I don't know what. The King signed all; yet was still forced to appear in a balcony, and promise to observe what he had granted. Squillaci was sent with an escort to Carthagena, to embark for Naples, and the first commissioner of the treasury appointed to succeed him; which does not look much like observation of the conditions. Some say Ensenada is recalled, and that Grimaldi is in no good odour with the people. If the latter and Squillaci are dismissed, we get rid of two enemies.

The tumult ceased on the grant of the demands; but the King retiring that night to Aranjuez, the insurrection was renewed the next morning, on pretence that this flight was a breach of the capitulation. The people seized the gates of the capital, and permitted nobody to go out. In this state were things when the courier came away. The ordonnance against going in disguise looks as if some suspicions had been conceived; and yet their confidence was so great as not to have two thousand guards in the town. The pitiful behaviour of the Court makes one think that the Italians were frightened, and that the Spanish part of the ministry were not sorry it took that turn. As I suppose there is no great city in Spain which has not at least a bigger bundle of grievances than the capital, one shall not wonder if the pusillanimous behaviour of the King encourages them to redress themselves too.

There is what is called a change of the ministry here; but it is only a crossing over and figuring in. The Duc de Praslin has wished to retire for some time; and for this last fortnight there has been much talk of his being replaced by the Duc d'Aiguillon, the Duc de Nivernois, &c.; but it is plain, though not believed till now, that the Duc de Choiseul is all-powerful. To purchase the stay of his cousin Praslin, on whom he can depend, and to leave no cranny open, he has ceded the marine and colonies to the Duc de Praslin, and taken the foreign and military department himself. His cousin is, besides, named chef du conseil des finances; a very honourable, very dignified, and very idle place, and never filled since the Duc de Bethune had it. Praslin's hopeful cub, the Viscount, whom you saw in England last year, goes to Naples; and the Marquis de Durfort to Vienna-a cold, dry, proud man, with the figure and manner of Lord Cornbury.

Great matters are expected to-day from the Parliament, which re-assembles. A mousquetaire, his piece loaded with a lettre de cachet, went about a fortnight ago to the notary who keeps the

parliamentary registers, and demanded them. They were refused— but given up, on the lettre de cachet being produced. The Parliament intends to try the notary for breach of trust, which I suppose will make his fortune; though he has not the merit of perjury, like Carteret Webb.

There have been insurrections at Bourdeaux and Toulouse, on the militia, and twenty-seven persons were killed at the latter: but both are appeased. These things are so much in vogue, that I wonder the French do not dress à la révolte. The Queen is in a very dangerous way. This will be my last letter; but I am not sure I shall set out before the middle of next week. Yours ever.

1054. TO SIR HORACE MANN.

Calais, April 20, 1766.

I AM here waiting for the tide, my dear Sir, and cannot employ my leisure better than in reviving our correspondence, which has not languished from any fault in me, but from the difficulties and dilatoriness of the French couriers, from my want of English news, and from my unwillingness to talk on our affairs in the heart of Paris. All those obstacles cease now, and you will find no change or coolness in my friendship.

Mr. Conway has been twice dangerously ill, both times from neglect. He had a scorbutic eruption, caught cold, neglected it, it turned to a high fever, he was thrice bled, and recovered. His first sally was to his Sabine farm, whither the Opposition wanted so much to send him. A deep snow fell, but he would walk out to see his improvements. The eruption, which had returned on his breast, struck in suddenly, and he fainted away; but it took a rheumatic turn, and the Duke of Richmond writes me word that he is recovering. In the mean time affairs have run into confusion. Mr. Pitt, notwithstanding he has been so much announced for coming in, has certainly not yet been treated with, and probably grows impatient, for of late he has suddenly turned his artillery against the Ministry, for who saves their country for their country's sake? I expect to find things in much disorder; but I am used to that, and grown indifferent to it.

The Hereditary Prince has landed on this side, and will make you a visit before his return. As he has left affairs unsettled, I cannot think Mr. Pitt's junction very likely, which I do not doubt but