favourite. Lady Ailesbury has made such a progress there, that you will not easily supplant her. I have received volumes in her praise.1 You have a better chance with Madame de Cambis, who is very agreeable; and I hope you are not such an English husband as not to conform to the manners of Paris while you are there.

I forgot to mention one or two of my favourite objects to Lady Ailesbury, nay, I am not sure she will taste one of them, the church of the Celestines. It is crowded with beautiful old tombs; one of Francis II. whose beatitude is presumed from his being husband of the martyr Mary Stuart. Another is of the first wife of John Duke of Bedford, the Regent of France. I think you was once there with me formerly. The other is Richelieu's tomb, at the Sorbonne but that everybody is carried to see. The Hôtel de Carnavalet, near the Place Royale, is worth looking at, even for the façade, as you drive by. But of all earthly things the most worth seeing is the house at Versailles, where the King's pictures, not hung up, are kept. There is a treasure past belief, though in sad order, and piled one against another. Monsieur de Guerchy once carried me thither; and you may certainly get leave. At the Luxembourg are some hung up, and one particularly is worth going to see alone: it is the Deluge by Nicolo Poussin, as winter. The three other seasons are good for nothing; but the Deluge is the first picture in the world of its kind. You will be shocked to see the glorious pictures at the Palais Royal transplanted to new canvasses, and new painted and varnished, as if they were to be scenes at the Opera- at least, they had treated half-adozen of the best so, three years ago, and were going on. The Prince of Monaco has a few fine, but still worse used; one of

1 "Miladi Ailesbury," writes Madame du Deffand, "est certainement la meilleure des femmes, la plus douce, et la plus tendre: je suis trompée si elle n'aime passionnément son mari, et si elle n'est pas parfaitement heureuse: son humeur me parait très-égale, sa politesse noble et aisée; elle a le meilleur ton du monde; exempte de toutes prétentions, elle plaira à tous les gens de goût, et ne déplaira jamais à personne; c'est de toutes les Anglaises que j'ai vues, celle que je trouve la plus aimable sans nulle exception."-E.

2 Where Madame de Sévigné resided.

them shines more than a looking-glass. I fear the exposition of pictures is over for this year; it is generally very diverting.' I, who went into every church of Paris, can assure you there are few worth it, but the Invalids-except the scenery at St. Roch, about one or two o'clock at noon, when the sun shines; the Carmelites, for the Guido and the portrait of Madame de la Valière as a Magdalen; the Val de Grace, for a moment; the treasure at Notre Dame; the Sainte Chapelle, where in the ante-chapel are two very large enamelled portraits; the tomb of Condé at the Great Jesuits in the Rue St. Antoine, if not shut up; and the little church of St. Louis in the Louvre, where is a fine tomb of Cardinal Fleury, but large enough to stand on Salisbury-plain. One thing some of you must remember, as you return; nay, it is better to go soon to St. Denis, and Madame du Deffand must get you a particular order to be shown (which is never shown without) the effigies of the Kings. They are in presses over the treasure which is shown, and where is the glorious antique cameo-cup; but the countenance of Charles IX. is so horrid and remarkable, you would think he had died on the morrow of the St. Barthelemi, and waked full of the recollection. If you love enamels and exquisite medals, get to see the collection of a Monsieur d'Henery, who lives in the corner of the street where Sir John Lambert lives-I forget its name. There is an old man behind the Rue de Colombier, who has a great but bad collection of old French portraits; I delighted in them, but perhaps you would not. I, you may be sure, hunted out everything of that sort. The convent and collection of St. Germain, I mean that over against the Hôtel du Parc Royal, is well worth seeing-but I forget names strangely-Oh! delightful!—Lord Cholmondeley sends me

1 He means from their extreme bad taste.

2 The abbey of St. Denis was sadly shorn of its glories during the Revolution. On the 16th of October 1793, the coffin of Louis XV. was taken out of the vaults; and, after a stormy debate, it was decided to throw the remains of all the kings, even those of Henry IV. and Louis XIV, which were yet to a great degree preserved entire, into a pit, to melt down their leaden coffins on the spot, and to take away and cast into bullets whatever lead there still remained in the church; not even excepting the roof.—E.

word he goes to Paris on Monday: I shall send this and my other letter by him. It was him I meant; I knew he was going, and had prepared it.

Pray take care to lock up your papers in a strong box, that nobody can open. They imagine you are at Paris on some commission, and there is no trusting French hotels or servants. America is in a desperate situation. The accounts from the Congress are not expected before the 10th, and expected very warm. I have not time to tell you some manœuvres against them that will make your blood curdle. Write to me when you can by private hands, as I will to you. There are always English passing backwards and forwards.

TO THE COUNTESS OF AILESBURY.

Strawberry Hill, Nov. 7, 1774.

I HAVE written such tomes to Mr. Conway, Madam, and have so nothing new to write, that I might as well, methinks, begin and end like the lady to her husband: "Je vous écris parceque je n'ai rien à faire: je finis parceque je n'ai rien à vous dire." Yes, I have two complaints to make, one of your ladyship, the other of myself. You tell me nothing of Lady Harriet: have you no tongue, or the French no eyes? or are her eyes employed in nothing but seeing? What a vulgar employment for a fine woman's eyes after she is risen from her toilet! I declare I will ask no more questions-what is it to me, whether she is admired or not? I should know how charming she is, though all Europe were blind. I hope I am not to be told by any barbarous nation upon earth what beauty and grace are!

For myself, I am guilty of the gout in my elbow; the left -witness my hand-writing. Whether I caught cold by the deluge in the night, or whether the bootikins, like the water of Styx, can only preserve the parts they surround, I doubt they have saved me but three weeks, for so long my reckoning has been out. However, as I feel nothing in my feet, I flatter myself that this Pindaric transition will not be a regu

VOL. V.

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lar ode, but a fragment, the more valuable for being imperfect.

Now for my gazette.-Marriages-Nothing done. Intrigues-More in the political than civil way. BirthsUnder par since Lady Berkeley left off breeding. Gaming-Low water. Deaths-Lord Morton, Lord Wentworth, Duchess Douglas. Election stock-More buyers than sellers. Promotions Mr. Wilkes as high as he can go.- Apropos, he was told the Lord Chancellor intended to signify to him, that the King did not approve the City's choice: he replied, “Then I shall signify to his lordship, that I am at least as fit to be Lord Mayor as he to be Lord Chancellor." This being more gospel than everything Mr. Wilkes says, the formal approbation was given.

Mr. Burke has succeeded in Bristol, and Sir James Peachey will miscarry in Sussex. But what care you, Madam, about our Parliament? You will see the rentrée of the old one, with songs and epigrams into the bargain. We do not shift our Parliaments with so much gaiety. Money in one hand, and abuse in t'other those are all the arts we know. Wit and a gamut I don't believe ever signified a Parliament,' whatever the glossaries may say; for they never produce pleasantry and harmony. Perhaps you may not taste this Saxon pun, but I know it will make the Antiquarian Society die with laughing.

Expectation hangs on America. The result of the general assembly is expected in four or five days. If one may believe the papers, which one should not believe, the other side of the waterists are not doux comme des moutons, and yet we do intend to eat them. I was in town on Monday; the Duchess of Beaufort graced our loo, and made it as rantipole as a Quaker's meeting. Loois Quinze, I believe, is arrived by this time, but I fear without quinze louis.

Your herb-snuff and the four glasses are lying in my warehouse, but I can hear of no ship going to Paris. You are

1 Witenagemot.

This was a cant name given to Lady Powis, who was very fond of loo, and had lost much money at that game.

now at Fontainbleau, but not thinking of Francis I. the Queen of Sweden, and Monaldelschi. It is terrible that one cannot go to courts that are gone! You have supped with the Chevalier de Boufflers: did he act everything in the world, and sing everything in the world, and laugh at everything in the world? Has Madame de Cambis sung to you "Sans dépit, sans légèreté ?" Has Lord Cholmondeley delivered my pacquet? I hear I have hopes of Madame d'Olonne. Gout or no gout, I shall be little in town till after Christmas. My elbow makes me bless myself that I am not at Paris. Old age is no such uncomfortable thing, if one gives oneself up to it with a good grace, and don't drag it about

"To midnight dances and the public show."

If one stays quietly in one's own house in the country, and cares for nothing but oneself, scolds one's servants, condemns everything that is new, and recollects how charming a thousand things were formerly that were very disagreeable, one gets over the winters very well, and the summers get over themselves.

TO THE EARL OF STRAFFORD.

Strawberry Hill, Nov. 11, 1774.

I AM Sorry there is still time, my dear lord, to write to you again; and that though there is, I have so little to amuse you with. One is not much nearer news for being within ten miles of London than if in Yorkshire; and besides, whatever reaches us, Lady Greenwich catches at the rebound before me, and sends you before I can. Our own circle furnishes very little. Dowagers are good for propagating news when planted, but have done with sending forth suckers. Lady Blandford's coffee-house is removed to town, and the Duchess of Newcastle's is little frequented, but by your sister Anne,

The first words of a favourite French air.

The portrait in enamel of Madame d'Olonne by Petitot, which Walpole afterwards purchased.-E.