[Footnote 1:  Edgehill was the first battle in the Great Rebellion, fought October 23, 1642.]

FALL OF THE DUC DE CHOISEUL’S MINISTRY.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

STRAWBERRY HILL, Saturday evening, Dec. 29, 1770.

We are alarmed, or very glad, we don’t know which.  The Duke de Choiseul is fallen! but we cannot tell yet whether the mood of his successors will be peaceable or martial.  The news arrived yesterday morning, and the event happened but last Monday evening.  He was allowed but three hours to prepare for his journey, and ordered to retire to his seat at Chanteloup; but there are letters that say, qu’il ira plus loin.  The Duke de Praslin is banished too—­a disagreeable man; but his fate is a little hard, for he was just going to resign the Marine to Chatelet, who, by the way, is forbidden to visit Choiseul.  I shall shed no tears for Chatelet, the most peevish and insolent of men, our bitter enemy, and whom M. de Choiseul may thank in some measure for his fall; for I believe while Chatelet was here, he drew the Spaniards into the attack of Falkland’s Island.  Choiseul’s own conduct seems to have been not a little equivocal.  His friends maintained that his existence as a minister depended on his preventing a war, and he certainly confuted the Comptroller-General’s plan of raising supplies for it.  Yet, it is now said, that on the very morning of the Duke’s disgrace, the King reproached him, and said “Monsieur, je vous avois dit, que je ne voulois pas la guerre;” and the Duke d’Aiguillon’s friends have officiously whispered, that if Choiseul was out it would certainly be peace; but did not Lord Chatham, immediately before he was Minister, protest not half a man should be sent to Germany, and yet, were not all our men and all our money sent thither?  The Chevalier de Muy is made Secretary-at-War, and it is supposed Monsieur d’Aiguillon is, or will be, the Minister.

Thus Abishag[1] has strangled an Administration that had lasted fourteen years.  I am sincerely grieved for the Duchess de Choiseul, the most perfect being I know of either sex.  I cannot possibly feel for her husband:  Corsica is engraved in my memory, as I believe it is on your heart.  His cruelties there, I should think, would not cheer his solitude or prison.  In the mean time, desolation and confusion reign all over France.  They are almost bankrupts, and quite famished.  The Parliament of Paris has quitted its functions, and the other tribunals threaten to follow the example.  Some people say, that Maupeou,[2] the Chancellor, told the King that they were supported underhand by Choiseul, and must submit if he were removed.  The suggestion is specious at least, as the object of their antipathy is the Duke d’Aiguillon.  If the latter should think a war a good diversion to their enterprises, I should not be surprised if they went on, especially if a bankruptcy follows famine.  The new Minister and the Chancellor are in general execration.  On the latter’s lately obtaining the Cordon Bleu,[3] this epigram appeared:—­