A Succinct DESCRIPTION OF FRANCE, Wherein is a CHARACTER OF THE People, Customs, etc. OF THAT KINGDOM.  
Sent by a Gentleman now Travelling there, to his Friend in England.  
Dedicated to that Eminent and Learned Physician, Dr. MARTIN LISTER; and may serve as a Supplement to his Journey to Paris.  
Printed in the Year 1700.   

TO THE LEARNED Dr. Martin Lister.  
SOme ill natured and unthinking Animals having imbibed an Opinion that your only Design in publishing your Journey to Paris, was to flatter the French and disparage the English, they made, you know, very undecent Reflections upon that Treatise, represented your Worship as a short sighted, prejudiced Observer, and one that had a greater Esteem and Veneration for Paris than the famous City of London: Which in respect of its healthful and pleasant Situation, splendid and uniform Buildings, Houses and Shops richly Furnished, wealthy Merchants and Tradesmen, and excellency of its Government, is Celebrated as a Non-Pareil through the Christian World.  
But, Sir, as Ignorance is the Parent of Misunderstanding, so they were unhappily led into this Mistake for want of Brains to comprehend your Method in commending and dispraising. For your Abilities in History, like the other parts of your great Learning, lying very deep, and out of the Vulgar Track, it is not discernible to every Purblind Eye: Whereas better illuminated Apprehensions easily perceived your Inclination was to give the Preference for London and Englishmen; for when you spoke of the French City and People, your Eulogies were Satyrs, your Panegyrics Lampoons, and you always unluckily brought in something that disparaged what you seemed to advance, and clouded all the Glory that was thought you intended them in the publication of your Journey.  
'Tis true, you say the French Gentry are very Civil and Obliging, and I believe no less, though you are pleased to say, They value themselves upon their Courtship, and in making a Leg and Bow better than the rest of Mankind: Building and Dressing mostly for Figure, and that their principal Diversions are only to see and be seen; and this I think, Sir, your Enemies will allow to be no extraordinary Character.  
You acquaint us, Sir, That their Houses are richly furnished; for they have generally from five to ten distinct Families under every Roof, that the Inhabitants are wealthy in Pictures, and have the Curiosity and Ingenuity to Ruin themselves in that kind of expensive Furniture: Which would be thought a vanity in others; but this, Doctor, is your peculiar knack in commending their Oeconomy.  
The Buildings in Paris, you say, are very fine, built with rough Stone, Plastered over, and Coloured to make them look like Brick; but at longest, will not stand above five and twenty Years, and then they have the pleasure of building new ones, which must needs be a great satisfaction to the Proprietors.  
Paris in your Opinion, Sir, is more Populous than London, but it seems 'tis only in appearance, because the Palaces and Convents have eat up the People's Dwellings, and crowded them so excessively together in the Trading parts of the Town, that they seem more numerous than they are; whereas the Artists and Tradesmen in London and Westminster have purchased the Nobleman's Palaces, and converted them into Shops and private Dwellings. The lower Windows in Paris are grated with strong Iron Bars before ' 'em. But are excelled in that particular also, if you had thought upon't by the two stately Houses over the two West Gates of London. You say also That Paris is a beautiful and convenient City but the Streets are very narrow, extremely dirty, and the Passengers on foot no way secured from the hurry and danger of Coaches.  
Above all, You say their Gardens are very curious things, and well they may be so, for you are pleased to add as a Character of their Gallantry, That as soon as a Frenchman gets any thing by Fortune or Inheritance, he will lay it out upon a Picture, or an Ornament for his Garden: Though many Utensils and Conveniencies of Life are wanting to him which are common in England.  
Their Food in general, you say, Is course Bread and Lettuce, but that indifferent Aliment is supplied with plenty of Sauce, for you tell us they have abundance of Onions, Leeks, Garlick, Sorrel, Shallot, Rocombo's and Mushrooms. Their Hackney-Coaches and Chairs are the most nasty and miserable Voiture [Carriage] that can be, and yet are as dear again as in London; but that misfortune you say, is supplied by a worse, viz. The Vingrette, which is a Coach with two Wheels, dragged by a Man, and pushed behind by a Woman or a Boy, and sometimes by both, which you truly say is a wretched business in so magnificent a City.  
Their Bishops, say you, make the best Figure in the Town in their Equipages and Liveries, but not in respect of their Learning; for you are pleased to add, That Learning is not so necessary a Qualification there, as with us in England. Their Churches are numerous, but not big, and very few of them have either Towers or Steeples, though they are the Glory of a Prospect; but at length, Sir, you are pleased to credit the French, and gratify your Enemies, in saying, They have more manners and Religion than the English; for which, some of your Countrymen are resolved never to forgive you, though I think they justly ought, for the Characters you bestow on their Monks. Who wear, say you, the Rustic Habits of old Times, without Shirts, or other Linen Ornaments of the present Age. That wantonly Persecute themselves to do violence to Christianity. That feed upon sour Herbs, Fish, and such kind of Trash, and lie worse, always rough and upon Board's; go bare foot in a cold Country; deny themselves the Comforts of this Life, and wear out their days in a slavish and fruitless Devotion. And this I think may at one for what your Back Friends call an odious Comparison.  
Thus far, dear Doctor, I have been your Compurgator, and cleared you from the suspicion of being more a Frenchman than an Englishman, which might have been prejudicial to your Practice: And now am become an humble Suitor to you, that since a Friend that is gone a long Journey has obliged me with a Succinct and Pleasant View of some parts of France; and largely Supplies in Words at length, where you mince the Matter, that you would please to take it into your Protection, and give it the Honour of being Bound up as a Supplement with your Journey to Paris, and you will much oblige,  
SIR, Your Humble Servant, Philo-Patriae.   

A Succinct Description OF FRANCE, etc.  
Dear SIR,  
THE notice of a happy Peace after so tedious a War, tempting our Curiosity to take a view of France, of which we have had such different Relations; myself, with several other English Gentlemen, embarked at Dover in May, the pleasantest Month of the Year, with a fair South West Wind, which had it continued in that Point, would soon have wafted us to the Galick Shoar; but a little toward Night it veering more about to the West, and the Tide not befriending us, our Passage became tedious and troublesome to such Freshwater Sailors, and we had leisure to see the swelling Waves, by an inbred Ambition, strive which should be the highest; while our Vessel by a violent agitation of the Wind danced a nimble Galliard on the Billows; but that which made the generality of the Passengers in a very uneasy condition, and the Deck and Cabins look like so many Hospitals filled with diseased Persons; made the Scaly Inhabitants of that Watery Kingdom sport themselves on the surface of the Waves, and dance about our Catch as if she had been a moving Maypole, and acted their Measures with such a delightful Decorum, as if they had been taught to Caper by the best of French Dancing Masters. The next Ebb brought us within sight of the Sea Coast of Normandy; 
A Description of Normandy.  a Shoar so evenly composed and leveled, that it looks like the work of Art, and not of Nature.  
The first Inhabitants of this Country came 
* Anno 800.  Originally from Norway, Soldiers of Fortune, and so terribly spoiled the Maritine Coasts of England, France and Holland, that, A furore Normannorum was inserted into the Litany; but now being Conquered by the French, and enslaved under that Monarchy, they are utterly crest fallen, have lost both their Courage and their Liberty, and nothing remains among them now of their Progenitors, but a penurious Pride, and an ungovernable Surliness.  
The next Tide landed us at Deipe in Normandy. 
The Town of deep.  A Town seated on an Arm of the Sea, between two Hills, which are a Security to the Harbour, and a Strength to the Town; but availed them little against the Courage of the English, and the Force of their Bombs, whose Injuries they were now Repairing. The number of the Inhabitants were formerly accounted about 30000, whereof 9000 of them were of the Protestant Religion; and the Church of Argues, a Village about two Miles from Deipe was allowed them for the Exercise of their Religion; but since the Persecution they are all dispersed, and the want of them greatly Lamented.  
Here we were Eye Witnesses of the Idolatry of the Papists, 
Popish Idolatry.  in paying divine Honour to things Inanimate: We saw the Host or Sacrament carried through the Streets, by a couple of Priests, under a Canopy, ushered by two or three Torches, and followed by a Company of Idle Boys and old People: Before it, was carried a Bell continually Tinkling, to warn the People that their God was carrying by, and expected their Reverence, which was paid by all that met it, by falling on their Knees, Raising their Heads, and giving it Honour: Thou methinks not with so much Devotion, as I should have done, if I had believed it, as they do, to be the Body of my Saviour.  
But I find its the Common practice of this Country, 
Their Travelling Chariots and Horses.  for the Laity as well as the Clergy to impose upon men's Eyes and Understandings; for we designing to Travel towards Roven, and Horses being not to be had for Money, and the War between the two Nations, and the Ruins of Deipe, were so fresh in their Memories we could not expect them for Love, we were forced to make use of the common Conveyance, and that was in a Cart; but for fear of Offending, forsooth, in spite of our Teeth, tho' we saw it was a Cart, we must call it Une Chariot, and to please them so we did, tho' we thought it fit for no Triumph, but that of a Frenchman. To this Cart (Chariot I mean) were fastened three things, that had been Horses in their time, but were now skelitonized into Carcases, or Images of Horses, without life or motion. When we were mounted they began to Crawl, for go they could not, however it convinced me they had life, tho' I thought it would hold out no longer, than to carry them to the next Pack of Hounds. Thus accommodated A la mode de France, we took our leaves of Deipe, and wagged so slowly towards Roven, that we thought our Journey was a perfect Emblem of the motion of the Ninth Sphere, which was Forty Nine Thousand Years in finishing; but this was not all our Calamity; the Rain fell on us through our Tilt, which for the many Holes in it, might more truly have been called a Net. The Dirt broke plentifully upon us, through the Rails of our Chariot, and the unproportionable pace of it, started almost every Bone of our Bodies. I wonder how a Frenchman, that commonly carries the Disease of his Country about him, durst adventure his crazy Carcase in it. Thus we endured all the infelicities of a Journey, and escaped three several Deaths, Drowning, Choking with Mire, and Breaking of the Wheel; besides the fear of being Famished before we came to our Inn, which was six French Miles from us.  
Not to mention the Beggarly Villages we dragled through, 
The Town and the Inn at Tostes.  we came at last to Tostes, the place destined for our Lodging; a Town like the Worse sort of our Market Towns in England. There our Chariotier brought us to the Ruins of a House, an Alehouse I would scarce have thought it, but in compliment to the Nation, it must be called an Inn; yes, and an Honourable one too, as Don Quixots Host told him. Despair of finding in this Nasty hole, either Bedding or Victuals, I was in the Man's mind that chose Hanging, rather than Marry a foul Queen that Begged him; and was often ready to say, Drive on Carman. The truth on't is, I fell out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire.  
A Course Faced Tatterdemalion belonging to the House, 
The Chamber.  brought us into a Room as Dark and as Damp as a Charnel-House; only toward the Orchard there was a Melancholy kind of a Hole, which in Days of Yore, had been a Window, but now both Frame and Glass were vanished: However by the Light that came in, I could easily perceive I was not in England.  
In the Chamber were three Beds, 
The Beds and Sheets.  if it be Lawful to call them so, that were bottomed with Straw, so closely squeezed together, that the Woolpacks, in the House of Lords, in respect of these were Swans-Down. On this Straw Huddle lay a Medley of Flocks and Feathers, sewed up in an English cast Hopsack▪ so ill ordered, that they stuck up like the Knobbs of a Crabtree Cudgel, and we were obliged to our Flesh, that one Night's Lodging did not wear our Bones out. The Sheets they brought us, were so Course, that in my Conscience, a Sailer would have refused them for a Hammock, and I hearty wished I could have exchanged them for an English Horse-cloth; the Coverlid so course and Bare, that if a Man would have undertaken to have counted the Threads, he need not have missed One of the Number.  
The Table Linen was of the same Complexion, 
The Table Linen.  so Foul and Dirty, that I could not think it had been washed above once, since it grew in the Hemp ground, and yet the poor things had as brisk a French Air, as if they had been promised for the next whole Year, to escape a Scouring. By this Description of an Inn, you may guests Sir, at all the rest in France. Some are not altogether so wretched, yet the alteration is almost insensible.  
Let us now walk into the Kitchen, 
The Kitchen and Provision for Supper.  and see what's for Supper, and here, Sir, we found a most terrible Execution, committed upon the body of a Pullet. Our Hostess, cruel Woman as she was, had cut the Throat of it, and without plucking off the Feathers, tore it into pieces, and then took off the Skin and Feathers together, as we strip Rabbits in England, clapped it into a Pan, and Fricasized it into a Supper.  
After which Repast we had a Sight of our Hostess, 
Our Hosts and her Daughter.  and her Daughter, at which we blest our Souls, and march off, lest the fulsome interview should have brought up what we had eaten; for such a couple of dirty Queans was never seen in England, unless in a Dust Cart, or among the Gold Finders at Midnight. Horace's Salutation, O mater pulchra filia pulchrior, was never so seasonable as here. Not to honour them with a fairer Character let this suffice, that their Persons kept so perfect a Decorum with the House and Furniture, that 'tis pity they should be parted. But this is not the luck of the Women of Normandy only, for through all France their Faces and their Linen are the best Guards of their Chastity: They are all forced to be contented with a very little Beauty, and she which with us would be slighted as an Antidote, or a mere dirty Dowdy, would pass with them for a Beautiful Princess; but more of the Women when we come to Paris.  
In their Habits the Normand Women differ from the rest of France. 
The women's Habits in Normandy.  The Attire of their Heads, hangs down their Backs like a Veil, and looks like a Superannuated Dish-Clout, turned out of Service, or the corner of a Table Cloth, that never had been washed. Being ready to leave our Quarters in the Morning, we found ourselves in a throng of Ill Faces, all Whining out Pour les Servantes, and our bounty was like giving a Dole, at a Rich Man's Funeral, you could not say when you had done giving, there were so many of them; and herein only was our Advantage, that their Ambition reaches no higher than a Sou a penny, and he that gives more over-bids their Expectation, and shall be counted a Prodigal.  
But of all the Gallantries of France, 
The Men Servants.  commend me to the Men-Servants in their Inns, the Raggedst regiment that ever Eyes beheld, their  full of Patches, or open to their Skins, and by the habits of the Attendants, a man would be tempted to think he had been lodged in a Goal. Bid one of them give you a Cloth to wipe your hands, and he will reach you the Curtain of the Bed: Bid him wipe the Table, or your Boots, he has still recourse to the Curtains, and they perform all their Offices, with their Hats on their Heads to which French Custom I profess myself an open Enemy; for tho' Jack speaks French, I cannot allow Jack to be a Gentleman.  
Now we set out for Roven: 
Roven described.  The whole journey was six French Miles, and our Cart was Ten hours in dragging us thither: Excellent speed; and would have wore out the patience of the Mad Duke, that undertook without. Staff, Whip, or Goad, to drive two Snails from Milan to Moscow .. Rovenis situate in a pleasant Valley on the River Sein; the Houses are high, in some places Wood, in others Stone, and some of both, without uniformity or or Beauty. What remains of the Bridge is a fine piece of Work, and the River is about the breadth of the Thames at Fulham. Between the Town-Wall, and the River is their Exchange, a place paved with smooth Pebble-stones about a hundred yards long, in breadth twenty, and is a fine walk in Fair-Weather, and in Wet, you must seek another.  
In this Town are Thirty two Parish Churches, besides Abbeys, and Religious houses, of which the most beautiful is that of St. And Ooven, the Seat and Church of the Arch Bishop is Nostre Dame, more gorgeous on the out side, than Beautiful or Rich within. Behind the High Altar is the Remains of the Duke of Bedford's Tomb, sometimes Regent of France, which was Defaced out of pure spite to his memory long since his Death, that made all France tremble when he was alive. East ward of this Church is our Lady's Chapel, a pretty neat piece of Work, but disfigured within by Lying Imagery. The House of Parliament is in the form of a Quadrangle, a very stately and graceful Pile of Building; that at Paris is but a Chaos, or Bauble to it; and the Palace of the Louvre, has nothing in it comparable to this goodly Edifice.  
In our Journey from Roven we were better accommodated than when we came thither; we were preferred Ab Asinus ad Equos, 
Our Journey thither, and how accommodated.  from a Cart to a Wagon, the French call it a Coach, by the same Figure that they called a Cart a Chariot. These Wagons are the common Conveniences for Travel, and are like a Gravesend-Tiltboat, seldom without a Knave or a Gilt in them. A Man might here be very merry, in a mixture of all Sexes, Nations, Qualities and Languages, if the Fears of catching the Itch, or being Lousy, did not disturb it. Through a pleasant and Plentiful Country of all things but Vines, and through many a miserable Village, we came that night to St. Clare, Ten French Miles from Roven.  
A Poor Town God wots it is, 
St. Clare, and the Poverty of the People.  and has nothing in it Remarkable, but the extreme Poverty, and miserable Slavery of the People, who Reap the best Wheat, and yet eat the blackest Bread, who make the best Cider and Perry, and yet are forced to drink Water; for the King's Taxes, and their Lord's extorted Rents, eat up all the Fruits of their Labours, and leave them nothing but Hunger and Nakedness.  
On the Road I counted Threescore and Fourteen Persons barefoot, before I saw one that had Shoes on, and they were made of Wood too, which made me often cast a mournful look towards Old England, for leaving it, and think how happy we were in respect of this miserable People.  
In our further Progress we had leisure to behold Mante, 
Mante, and the adjacent Country.  and the Vines about it: They are Planted like our Hop Gardens, and grow up by the help of Poles, but not so high. They are kept with little cost, and yield profit to the Husbandman, sufficient to make him Rich, had he neither King nor cruel Landlord. The Wine made here is very harsh and unpleasant, and differs as much in sweetness from the Wines of Paris and Orleans, as their Language does in Elegancy. The Town of Mante, might be thought strong before the Invention of great Guns, having a Ditch, a Wall, and at every Gate a Drawbridge, and are still strong enough to Guard their Pullen from the Fox, and secure their Houses in the night from foreign Burglaries.  
The last Town of Normandy towards Paris is Pontoise, 
Pontoise, once belonging to England.  one of the strongest Bulwarks in France, as being a Frontier. In it are two fair Abbeys, Maubuisson and St. Martin: Six Parish Churches, of which Nostre Dame is the most Beautiful. This Country was once in the possession of the English, by a better Title than that of the Sword. William the first, Annexed it to England, and it continued an Appendix to that Crown, from the Year 1067, till 1204.  
Having passed through Pontoise and crossed the River, we entered into France, 
The Isle of France described.  so called by Meroveus, Grandchild of Pharamont, and first King of the Francones, who in the Wars between the Romans and the Goths took it, and made Paris the Seat of his Empire. This Isle, or Portion of Gaul, was the Seat of the Franks at their first coming thither, the rest of Gallia is rather subdued by the French than Inhabited: Conquest having taken in those Countries they never planted, for the least part of old Gallia is in the hands of the French, the Normans, Britan's, Biscayne's, Gascoines, Goths, (of Languedock and Provence) Burgundians, and the Ancient Gauls of Poictou, retaining in it such ample possessions: So that the French only possess some part of Old Gallia, and are Masters of the Rest. But that which seems very Strange is, that tho' the old Gauls be in a manner worn out, their Survivors should inherit their humours and conditions, being composed of so many several Countries and Originals.  
The present French are nothing but the old Gauls moulded into a New Name, 
The Character of a French Man.  and are as Rash, Hairbrained, and Headstrong now, as when Julius Caesar wrote his Commentaries. A Nation that may be won with a Feather, and lost with a Straw. At first sight a Frenchman is as Familiar with you as your Sleep, or the necessity of breathing. An hours Conference Endears him to you, in the second you open his breast, and the third you pump out all his Secrets as faithfully, as to his Father Confessor; and than you may lay him aside, for he is no longer serviceable; If you retain him longer, he himself will make a Separation: He has said over his Lesson to you, and now must find out some body else to repeat it to; and Far him well, for he is a Garment, that if you wear above two Days to-together, he will grow Scandalously Threadbare.  
He has a good opinion of himself, and thinks he has as much Wit as he wants, and more than all the World besides, and this and the shallowness of his brains makes him so Exceptious, and Touchy, that upon the least distaste he draws his Sword: In a Minute puts it up again, and then if you beat him into better Manners, he takes it with a abundance of Patience, and cries out Vostre Serviteur tres humble. In this one thing they too much resemble the Devil; Submission makes them Insolent, and Resistance makes them Recreants, for they always Grin like Wolves, or Fawn like Spaniels; and the Spark is nothing but a Puff-past vanity, in a New Antic Fashion.  
His Table at a Feast, 
His Table.  is loaded with large Dishes of Porridge, but very scarce of Meat. I speak not of the Peasant, for they know not what it is, but of the Gentleman. Their Beef is cut into Chaps, and that which passes there for a great Dish of Meat, would be thought with us but a Three-penny-cut, or a Sisers' Commons. A Loin of Mutton, makes three Substantial Roasting, besides a large Pipkin full of Pottage, made of the Rump and a Single Trotter. Of Fowl they have great Plenty, viz. foul Houses, foul Dishes, foul Women, and foul every thing.  
The great Skill of their Cooks consists in spoiling their Meat, and making High Sauces: 
Their Cooks, and Cooking.  Famishing the Belly to gratify the , and the Slovenly usage of their Butcher's Meat, will at any time give an English Man a Dinner. 'Tis now time to sit down, and whisper your own Grace to yourself; for private Graces are as fashionable here, as private Masses, and from thence I suppose they learned them. That done, fall on where you like best; they observe no method in their Eating, and if you expect to be Carved for, you will rise fasting. When you are Risen, if you can digest the Sluttishness of the Cookery, which is abominable at first sight, till hunger has forced you to it, you may be trusted in a Garrison, for nothing afterward will be Nauseous.  
The French Language is indeed very Smooth and Courtly, it is cleared of all harshness, 
The French Language.  by cutting off the Consonants, which makes it fall from the Tongue very Volubly; yet, in my opinion, 'tis rather Elegant than Copius; and therefore is much embarassed for want of Words to find out Periphases. It is expressed very much in Action: The Head, Hands, Body, Shoulders, and Grimace, all concur in a Modish Pronunciation, and he that would speak it with a Bonne Grace, must have much in him of the Mimic. It is enriched with a great number of Significant Proverbs, an extraordinary help to the French Humour of Scoffing, and is very full of Courtship, if they did not Debase it by prostituting their Compliments in too familiar a use of them; for the poor Village Cobbler has all his Cringes, and his Eau benist de Cour, his Court-Holy Waer, tas ready, and in as great Perfection as the Prince of Conde.  
In all their Passadoes of Courtship, 
Their Courtship and Compliments.  they comport themselves with much variety of Gesture, and 'twould be worth your Patience, were it customary among Gentlemen of other Nations; but the Affectation of it is bald and Ridiculous: Besides they undervalue their Courtship, in bestowing the highest Titles upon persons of the meanest condition: The Beggar begets Monsieurs and Madams to his Sons and Daughters, as familiarly as the King of France, and he can scarce put up the Affront, not to be thought a Gentleman.  
His Discourse commonly runs on two Wheels, 
Their Discourse and Gallantry!  Treason or Ribaldry: In the first he Abuses his Prince, and the Court, and in the other himself, in boasting of the many Women he says he has Prostituted. Foolish Braggadocia's, by whom each Debauchery is twice committed, in the Act, and in boasting of his Filthiness. By themselves they measure others, accounting them Idects and mean Soul'd Wretches, that don't Unman themselves in these Beastialities.  
This brings me to speak of the French Women, 
The Character of French Woman.  who are generally of an Indifferent Stature, their Bodies Straight, and their Wastes small, but whether of this shape by Nature or Art, I am not able to Determine, for their Shoulders and Backs are so broad, that they hold no Proportion with their Middles. Their Hands are the best Ornaments of their Bodies, long white and Slender, and were their Faces agreeable, an English Eye might think them tolerable; but here I meet with a Contradiction, for the Hand that is the best part of the Structure, in the generality of Maids that we saw, and their Wrists, were so over run with Scabs, that you would have thought them Lepers. Their Hair is black even to a Fault, their Faces become their Hair, as a Field Argent does a Sable Bearing, and Don Quixot did not so meritoriously assume the Name of the Knight of the ill favoured Face, as these Damoseiles do; which confirmed me in the opinion, that England was not only a Paradise for Women in respect of their Privileges, but also a Paradise of Women, in Respect of their Perfections.  
You cannot collect a better Character of a French-woman, 
Continually Babbling.  than from her continual Prating and Babbling, which is tedious, troublesome and infinite, and you will sooner want Ears than she a Tongue. Horace's Eternal Babbler, in his Ninth satire, was but a Puny to her. Had Aristotle been acquainted with her, it would have saved him a great deal of Labour in searching after a Perpetual Motion, and it would have freed him from a Heresy which still infects his Doctrine, and that is Quicquid movetur, ab alio movetur; for their Tongues moves themselves, and make their own occasions of discoursing. When they are going they are like a Pendulum Watch, you need not Wind them up above Once in Eight and Forty Hours, for so long will the Chain of their Clacks be Unwinding. A Madam of Paris came with us in a Wagon from Roven: Fourteen hours were we together, of which time, I'll be sworn upon a Book, her Tongue fretted away Eleven hours and Fifty seven Minutes; such Everlasting Talkers are they all, that they will want Breath sooner than Words, and are scarce Silent in the Grave.  
As they are Endless in their Talk, 
Their Discourse, Familiar and Smutty.  so are they regardless of the Company they Speak in, Stranger or Acquaintance, 'tis all one to them; tho' indeed no man is a Stranger to them, for in the first hour they ever saw you, they will be as familiar and merry with you, as if they had been at your Mother's Labour. Some of them I believe are , but you will hardly think so by their Behaviour. They abound with Laughter and Toying, and are never without Smutty Songs, which they chant in all Company whatsoever; insomuch that you would think Modesty had never been there, or was quite banished the Country. Maids and Wives are both sick of this Disease, tho' not both so desperately. The Ladies of the Court, I am told, as far exceed them in Gamesomness, as they do in the Dignities of their Places, and, I hear, if Modesty were the best Apparel for Women, many Court Ladies would be Thinly Clothed, or else go Naked.  
They Rail at the Custom of Saluting English Women with a Kiss, 
Their Raillery at English women's being Saluted.  and say, A Woman that will be Kissed, is half Whored; which makes them very sparing of receiving such Kindnesses; but this is only a dissembled Un willingness, for these damoisels will hardly refuse a Man's Bed, tho' Education has taught them to fly from his Lips; Night, and the Curtains may conceal the one, the other can obtain no Pardon in the Eye of such as happen to observe it. Upon this ground your French Traveller, that perhaps may see his Hostess kissed at Dover, and see a Gentleman salute a Lady in the Streets of London, relates at coming Home, strange Chimaeras of the English Modesty.  
To encourage this Opinion, 
French Boasting, and being Bubled.  he tells his Comrades what Merchants Wives he enjoyed at London, and with how much familiarity he was entertained by a Lady at Westminster, when all is gross Slander, and the Fop was Bubled: For when the Monsieurs come over with their Pockets full of Lewis d' Or's, the French Pimps in London that wait for such Booties, grow into their Acquaintance, and promise the Heated Fops the Embraces of such a choice a Beauty in the City, or of such a Lady of the Court; but as Ixion expected Juno, and embraced a Cloud, so those beguiled Wretches, instead of the Eminent Persons named to them, take into their Bosoms a common prostituted Crack of the Town, and are cheated by their own Country Panders.  
I return again to the French Women, 
The Liberty allowed to French Women in being Courted.  and tho' I must not kiss them, which every one that sees them will have good cause to bless his Stars for; yet they are at Liberty to be Courted, and have a greater Freedom in this, than a moderate Wisdom would allow them. Five Meals a day, and being Courted at Church, and even in the presence of her Husband are her Jura Conjugalia, and they will walk Arm in Arm about the Streets, or in the Fields, with their Privado, without the least Suspicion, or Imputation; which, considering their Constitutions, is a Liberty somewhat of the largest, and yet they enjoy it both Maids and Married Women. And so I take my leave of the Frenchmen and Women so much extolled, for all those Graces that may Ennoble and Adorn both Sexes, by some of our English Travelers; for my part I can discern nothing in them, or about them to be Admired, or Envied them, but their Country.  
As soon as we were over the bridged of Pontoise, 
The Isle of France.  we entered into the Isle of France, upon the Plain of a Mountain; but such a Fruitful one, as is not to be equalled by any Valley out of France; for if ever Nature was Prodigal of her Blessings, or scattered them with an over plentiful hand, it was in this Island. For three Miles together the Vines grew up in an equal Height, and afford better Wine than Normandy, or Gascoin, indeed the best on the Continent, Orleans excepted; and yet this was but a Scrap to stay our Stomaches, lest we should Surfeit in the Valley.  
Where we beheld Nature in her chiefest Glory. 
The Valley of Montmarancy.  The Fields interchangeably planted with Wheat and Vines, beautified here and there with Cherry-Trees, which gratified the Eye, with such a pleasant Object, and a delightful Mixture of Colours, that no Art could have expressed itself more delectably. To which I may add that the River Seine here divided itself into lesser Channels, to make it look like the Garden of Eden. It is called the Valley of Montmarency, which gives a Name to the Town, and the Duke of Montmarency, the Ancientest House of Christendom, who stile themselves the First Christian, and the Eldest Baron of France, and has yielded more Constables, Mareschals and Admirals to this Crown, than any three others in the Kingdom.  
The most eminent place in this Isle, 
Mont Martyr.  is Mont Martyr, about a Mile from Paris, where, when Gaul was Heathen, many of the Faithful were Martyred, and from thence derived its Name. Among others, which here received the Crown of Martyrdom, none more famous than St. Denis (said to be Dionysius Areopagita) the first Bishop of Paris, under the Reign of Domitian, whose Crime was refusing to Bow before the Altar of Mercury, and not offering Sacrifice to that Idol, at the command of Hesubinus, Governor of Paris.  
Of St. Denis, the Patron, 
St. Denis and his Miracle.  or Tutelary Saint of France, the Legend relates strange Wonders, as namely, when the Executioner had struck off his Head, he took it up in his Arms, and ran with it down the Hill, with as much speed as his Legs could carry him. Half a Mile from the Place of his Execution he sat down, rested, and did so nine times in all, till he came to the place where the Church is now built that is Dedicated to him, and there he fell down and died, which is about three English Miles from Mont Martyr, and there he was Buried, together with Rusticus his Archpriest, and Elutherius his Deacon, who not being able to go so fast as he did, were brought after by the People. O Impudentia admirabilem, & vere Romanam; and yet so far was the succeeding Age poisoned with a belief of this Miracle, that in the nine several Places where he is said to have rested, so many handsome Crosses of Stone are erected to perpetuate this Ridiculous Story.  
To the Memory of this Saint, 
St. Denis 's Church by whom Consecrated,  Dagobert built a Temple, after Ages added a Town to it, and some of the succeeding Kings of France encompassed it with a Wall, but so disproportionable, that it looks like a Spaniards little Face with a two handed Ruff about it. The Temple being finished, a Bishop was sent for in all haste to Consecrate it; but our Saviour came the Night before with the Apostles, Angels and Martyrs, and Blessed the Church himself, cured a Leper that lay in it, and bid him tell the Bishop that the Church was already Consecrated. Auditam admissi Risum teneatis? You may laugh at it if you please, but I assure you this is the Story, such Ridiculous Stuff did the Monks and Friars of those Times invent to please and blind the People, and so prone were our Ancestors to believe as Oracles whatsoever was delivered by these Impostors.  
Now Sir, 
The Relics in St. Denis 's Church.  I should show you the Relics, but you must have patience till the Clerk has put on his Surplice; for I persuade myself, that the Surplice without the Clerk, could Marshal the Relics as orderly as the Clerk without the Surplice. As soon as he was Saddled and Equipt for his Journey, he put himself into the Road, and marched on so nimbly, there was no keeping of him Company. His Tongue run so fast, that the quickest Eye was fain to give him over in plain Ground; the Fellow that shows the Tombs at Westminster, being no more to be compared to him for the Volubility of his Chaps, than a Capouchin to a Jesuit. Yet as we learned of him afterward when he was out of his Road and Formalities, they were thus disposed.  
On the right hand of the Altar are said to be kept One of the Nails that fastened our Saviour to the Cross. Secondly, a piece of the Cross itself. Thirdly, some of the Virgin Mary's Milk. Fourthly, the Arm of St. Simon set in a Case of Gold; and Fifthly, the Relics of St. Lewis reserved in a little Chapel of Gold also. On the left hand was showed us the Head of St. Denis, and part of his Body; or rather the Portraiture of it in Gold; for the Head was said to be within it. A Reverend Old Man he appeared to be, tho' I can't believe that the rich Crowned Mitre that he wears there now, was the same he wore when he was living. One Relic is there, to which I hope, they won't allow Adoration, and that was Judas' Lathorn when he went to apprehend his Master. A pretty one I confefs it is, Studded with Crystal, through which the Light cometh, the Substance being not Transparent. Had it been showed me in the first Century, I might perhaps have been Fooled into a belief of it; for I am confident it can be no older. However, I will believe it to be a Lantern, though I cannot believe it ever belonged to Judas; but more of Relics when we come to Paris.  
From the Relics of Martyrs let us proceed to those of their Kings, 
The Relics of French Kings in the same Church.  and among those there is nothing that will long detain an Englishman. He that has seen the Tombs at Westminster will think the best of these to be but Trifles. The chief of these mean ones are those of Henry II. and Katherine of Medici's, his Wife, in a little Chapel of her own building, both in full Proportion in their Royal Habiliments. Here is also a neat Tomb of the same Henry, all of Brass, supported by four Brass Pillars, his Statue of the same Metal in a Praying Posture; but the chief beauties of the Church are in the Treasury, as the Sword of Joan the Virgin, Charles the Great, Rowland his Cousin, and that of Henry IU. when he was Crowned, with his Boots, Spurs and Sceptre. Here is also a Cross of pure Gold three Foot high, a Crown, Sceptre and Golden Ball, given by Pope Adrian to Carolus Magnus. A Crown of Gold set with Diamonds and Precious Stones, given by Charles Martell, after his Victory over the Saracens. A fair Chalice all of Gold, in which St. Denis is said to have Consecrated the Sacramental Wine. The other of lesser moment I omit, and take my leave of St. Denis' Church, and walk on to Paris.  
There is a great bustle among ancient Authors, 
Paris its Names and Situation.  from whence this name Paris is derived, which I shall not waste time about, for I find the names of great Cities are as obscure as those of their Founders, and the Conjectural Derivations of them are sometimes rather plausible than probable, and sometimes neither. The other name of this City is most Ancient, and most proper, as taken from its Situation, and called Lutetia, from Lutum, Dirt, as being seated in an exceeding clammy, dirty Soil, but in a very Fruitful Country, and the River Seine, by Transporting Merchant's Goods in Boats from the Ships, which lie fifteen Miles distant from the City, does much enrich it.  
It is in Compass about ten Miles, or scarce so much, Circular in its figure, and is a fair and goodly City, yet nothing like the miracle that some would make it; for was the figure of London altered, and all the Houses cast into a Ring, as it is a much Sweeter, so it would be a more Magnificent and better City than that of Paris. It lies Commodiously in a Plain, flat and level, where are no Hills to annoy it, and therefore might be made impregnable.  
As for the Fort near St. Austin's Gate, 
The Bastile  called the Bastile, said to be built by the English when they were Lords of Paris, 'tis too little to Protect the Town, and too low to Command it, and serves only for a Prison to the better Sort that have no more Wit than to be Taken. Paris is no strong Place, and if Henry iv lay so long before it with his Army, it was not because he could not take it, but because he would not. He was loath as the Lord Byron advised him, to receive the Bird naked, which he expected ere long with all its Feathers, and this Answer he gave the Lord Willoughby, who undertook to force an Entry into it.  
The Streets are of a competent breadth, 
The Streets of Paris.  well Pitched under Foot with fair large Pebbles by Philip Augustus, Anno 1223. before which time it was miserable Dirty, and almost unpassable, and as it is now, every little Rain makes it very stippery and dangerous, and a continuance of warm Wether makes it stink horribly, and becomes very Poisonous, but whether it proceeds from the nature of the Ground, the Sluttishness of the People in their Houses, or the neglect of the Scavengers, or from all of them, I will not determine. This I am confident of, that the nastiest Lane in London or Westminster, is Frankincense and Juniper to the sweetest Streets in Paris. The ancient Byword was, It stains like the Dirt of Paris; but had I power to make a Proverb, I would change it into, It stinks like the Dirt of Paris, and then the By word would be ten times more Orthodox; for though I have said something of the strength of the Town, and its Fortification, without doubt, the Venom of the Streets, and the Sluttery of the People, is a greater security to the Town, than all the Ditches, Forts, Towers and Bulwarks that belong to it.  
'Twas therefore not injudiciously said of an English Gentleman in Raillery, 
The strongest City in Europe.  that Paris was the strongest Town in Europe, alluding to the noisome smells, for it is a Place of such strange Qualities, that you can't live in it in Summer without danger of being Suffocated with stink, nor in Winter without myring.  
The Buildings, 
The Houses and Signs in Paris.  I confess, are Handsome and Uniform to the Streetward, but London is much finer, and the Houses better furnished and contrived, Their Houses are distinguished by Signs, as with us, and under every Sign is written in Capitals what Sign it is, nor is it more than needs, for to tell that this is a Cock, and this a Bull, was never more requisite in the Infancy of Painting, than now in this City; for so hideously, and without Resemblance to the thing signified, are most of their Signs, that I may without danger say, if a Hen would not scratch better Pictures on a Dunghill, than they hang out before their Doors, I would send her to my Hostess at Tostes to be Executed. 
The chief Artists in Paris.  The Artificers in Paris are a slovenly Generation in their Trades, as well as in their Houses; and Barbers, Fiddlers, Dancers and Tailors, are the only fine Fellows among them. Their most curious Artists are Makers of Combs, Tweezers, Toothpicks and Comb-Brushes. Their Mercers are but one degree above Pedlars, and  has more Goldsmiths in it than this whole City and Suburbs. Merchants they have not many, nor wealthy, and that one should give twenty thousand Pound with a Daughter, as in England, was never heard of in this Kingdom.  
The Town subsists by the King's Court, 
How the Town subsists.  and the great Resort of Advocates and Clients to the Chambers of Parliament, and without these two Crutches, Paris would get such a vile Halting 'twould scarce be able to stand.  
If you credit their Apparel, 
Their Riches.  and judge of their Estates by their , you would think them worth Millions; but alas you don't know them, for when a Frenchman has his best  on, he is in the middle of his Estate, and carries his Lands and Tenements about him.  
Paris is divided into four parts. La Ville, 
Paris consists of four Parts.  the City, lying on this side the River Seine. La Universite, and that which they call the Cite, situate between both the Streams, in a little Island, and the Suburbs, which they call the Faux Bourgs, severed a pretty distance from the City, and are distinct Bodies from it. The greatest part of the Houses in them are Old and without Uniformity. The Faux Bourg of St. Jaques is indifferent, and excelled by that of St. . The Faux Bourg of St. Martin is commended for the great Pest-House in it, built by Henry IU. Quadrangularly. 'Tis large and capacious, and at a distance, (for it is not safe venturing nigh, or within it.) It looks more like a King's Palace than the King's Palace itself. The best of all the Suburbs is St. Germain's, and has a good Abbey in it that maintains 120 Monks. 'Twas built by Childerick, Anno 542. and Dedicated to St. Vincent, but since, has changed its Name to St. , from a Bishop of Paris, who was buried in it; besides this, there is in it a Magnificent Palace, scarce to be fellowed in Europe, 'tis called Luxenbourg Palace, and another called the Prince of Conde's Palace.  
In the Ville, 
The Government of Paris.  or Town of Paris, are Thirteen Parish Churches, Seven Gates, and is Governed by two Provosts. The Provost de Paris, and le Provost des merchand's, and the place of Judicature is the Grand Castolet, and l' Hostelle de Ville. The Provost of Paris has to his Assistance three Lieutenants, the Criminal, the Civil, and the Particuleir, which supplies in the absence of the other; besides other Officers more than a good many. The Provost of the Merchands, whose business is to preserve the Privileges of the Citizens, is assisted by the two Eschevins, as Sheriffs, twenty four Counsellors, and a Procurator, like the Common-Council and Recorder of London, whose Habits are half Red, and half Sky-coloured. This Provost is generally beloved by the Citizens, as the Conservator of their Liberties, and the others feared and hated, as the Judges of their Lives, and the Tyrants of their Estates.  
In this Ville is also the King's Arsenal, 
The Arsenal.  or Magazine of War, begun by Henry II. and finished by Charles IX. to which has been many considerable Additions since.  
Here is also the Place Royal, 
The Place Royal.  built in form of a Quadrangle, every Square being seventy two Fathoms long, the Materials Brick of divers Colours, which makes it very pleasant, but less durable. It is Cloistered round like the Royal Exchange of London. It is situate in the old Tilt Yard, a place famous and fatal for the Death of Henry II. who was slain there with the Splinter of a Lance, as he was Tilting with the Earl of Montgomery, a Scotchman.  
The University of Paris is seated on the furthermost Branch of the Seine, 
The University.  is little inferior to the Ville in bigness, but all its Learning is not able to free it from the Noisomness of the other. It has but six Parish Churches, and eight Gates, but many Religious Houses. It was Founded by Charles the Great, Anno 792. at the persuasion of Alivine an Oxford man, Scholar of Venerable Bede, who brought with him Rabanus Maurus, John Duns, Surnamed Scotus, and Claudus, who was also called Clement, three of his Condisciples, who were the first Readers there, and to these four does the University of Paris own its Original and first Rudiments of Learning. Nor was this the first time that England was the Schoolmaster of France, for we lent them not only their first Doctors in Divinity and Philosophy, but from us also did they receive the Mysteries of their Religion, when they were Heathens, as you may read in Julius Caesar Com. 6. which is an unquestionable Authority, and it had been well for them if they had writ after the same Copy to this Day.  
Colleges they had none, 
Their Colleges.  till Joan, Queen of Navarre, Wife to Philip the Fair, Built that 1034. which is still called the College of Navarre, and is the fairest and largest of all the rest. This good Example invited French Kings and Subjects to erect more, till they had increased the number to fifty two Colleges, which it still enjoyeth, tho' the odd forty are little serviceable to Learning, for in twelve of them only, is there any public Reading, either in Divinity or Philosophy. Every College has its Rector, but his Maintenance is very scanty, arising only out of Chamber-Rents, like the Principal of a Hall in Oxford; and the Building of the Colleges are as mean as their Revenues are poor, and indeed all France labours under the want of Encouragements to Learning.  
The College of Sorbonne is the Glory of this University, 
The Sorbonne.  built by Robert de Sorbonne of the Chamber of Lewis IX. None can be admitted into this College but Divines, nor none under the Degree of Doctors. Their number is about Seventy, their Allowance is a Pint of Wine, (which is almost our Quart) and a Quantity of Bread daily. Meat they have none allowed them, unless they pay for it. These Doctors confer Degrees, and in their several turns read six times a day, three in the Forenoon, and as many in the Afternoon. Three Doctors with the Parliament of Paris, are the Pillars of the French Liberties, and indeed are very jealous of the least Circumstances in which the Privileges of their Nation might be endangered, and on all occasions will show they disapprove what they can't remedy. This University is Governed by a Rector, a Vicechancellor, four Proctors, as many Intranta, and the Regent Masters.  
In public exercises of Learning, 
Precedence.  the Rector of Sorbonne takes place next the Princes of the Blood, before the Cardinals; but at other times gives them Precedence, but at no time will give it to Archbishops, or Bishops; of which there was some time a remarkable Instance. The King having summoned an Assembly of twenty five Bishops to consult about Church Affairs, they chose the College of Sorbonne for their Senate-house, and the Doctor that was to Preach before them beginning his Oration with Reverendissimi Rector & vos Amplissimi Praesules, the Archbishop of Roven interrupted him, and commanded him to invert his Style, which he no sooner obeyed, but the Rector presently rises up with Impono tibi silentium, which is an Injunction within the compass of his Power. Upon this, the Preacher being Tongue tied, the Controversy grew hot between the Bishops and the Rector, both Parties eagerly contending for Priority, till a Cardinal, wiser than the rest, desired the Question might be laid aside for that time, and that the Rector would permit the Doctor to deliver his Sermon without a Praeludium. To which the Rector consented, and the Dispute for that time was ended.  
But Salus Academiae non vertitur in istis. 
The Students in this Unisity.  It would be more for the Honour and Advantage of the University, if the Rector would be less mindful of his Dignity, and more careful in the Discharge of his Office; for certainly the Eye and utmost Diligence of a Magistrate was never more wanting, than in this University. Penelope's Suitors never behaved themselves so Insolently in the House of Ulysles, as the Academics do in the Streets and Houses of Paris. For an Angel given them to Drink, they will Arrest whom you please; double the Sum, and they will break open his House, and run him into a Jail. I never heard they could be hired to commit a Murder, tho' nothing is more common among them than Killing, except it be Stealing, in which they have their Captains, who command them in their Night-walks, and dispose of their Purchases.  
To be a Gipsy and a Student of Paris, 
In what time they take Degrees.  are almost Synonymous; an Ungovernable Rabble, whom to call Scholars, were to profane the Title, for they omit no Outrages which possibly can be committed, in a Place which consists merely of Privilege, and nothing of Statute. Two Years sees them both Novices in the Arts, and Masters of them. So that by their Degrees they enjoying an absolute Freedom before the Follies and Violences of Youth are subdued, they become so Unruly and Insolent as I have told you. These Degrees are conferred by the Chancellor, who seldom asks any other Questions than his Fees. Those being paid, he presents the Rakes to the Rector, from whom they receive their Letters Patents, which is the main part of the Creation in this ill managed University.  
The Isle of Paris seated between the University and the Town, 
The City.  commonly called lafoy Cite, is the lesser, but much the sweeter and the Richer part of Paris. It contains thirteen Churches, it is joined to the main Land and the other parts of this Metropolis by six Bridges.  
The Principal Church is Nostre Dame, 
Nostre Dame Church.  adorned with a beautiful Front, and two Towers seventy yards higher than the rest of the Church, which is an hundred seventy four long, and sixty broad. At your first entrance on the right hand is the Effigies of St. Christopher with our Saviour on his Shoulders, and the Mason, as well as the Legend has made him, of a Gigantic Stature, tho' of the two, the Mason's Workmanship is the more admirable; his being cut out of one fair Stone, and that of the Legendary being patched up of many Fabulous and Ridiculous Stories. It hath four Ranks of Pillars, thirty in a Rank, and forty five little Chapels or Mass-Closets, built between the outermost Range and the Walls. This Church is now the Seat of an Archbishop, a Preferment rather Intellectual than Real, for the Dignity is too unwieldy for the Revenue, which is but 600 l. a Year.  
As at Deipe I saw the Papists Idolatry, 
The Superstition of the Papists.  so here I observed their Superstitious use of Holy-Water, an Invention of Pope Alexander VII. Bishop of Rome. The Citations of Scripture upon which this Foppery is grounded, are all taken out of the Vulgar Latin Translation, attributed to St. Jerom; whereas there was no such Translation in Alexander's time, nor was St. Jerom Born till above three hundred Years after him. It is compounded of Salt and Water Conjured together by a Priest, for so the Words run, Exorcizo te creatura Salis, and afterwards, Exorcizo te aquae, & e. This done, the Salt is sprinkled Cross wise into the Water, and put into a Cistern standing at the Entrance into their Churches, and the People coming in, dip their Fingers into it, and make the Sign of the Cross upon their Foreheads, and think themselves sufficiently blessed for that Day.  
On the Top of one of the Towers you have the best Prospect of Paris, 
The great Bell, and use of it.  and the Valley round about it. In one of these Towers is an ordinary Ring of Bells, in the other but two, the biggest of which, is said to be greater than that at Roven, which is eight Yards and a Span in compass, and two Yards and a half deep. The Bowl of the Clapper being a Yard and half about, and requires thirty Men to Ring it, which is never done but in a very great Thunder, to allay the noise in the Element.  
Not far from the West-gate of this Church, 
The great Hospital.  is the great Hospital of Paris, Founded by King Lewis, Anno 1258. and has since that time been very much enlarged by several Benefactors. In this Hospital are numbered almost a Thousand Beds, in every Bed two Persons, besides those for the Officers of the House, and in truth, is kept so cleanly, it is sweeter walking here than in any Streets of Paris.  
Next to these is la saint Chapelle, 
The Holy Chapel, and its Relics.  situate in the middle of the Palais, Founded by Lewis IX. Anno 1248. The excellency in the Painting of the Glass-windows, and the curious Workmanship of the Organ-Case is worthy Admiration. In it are abundance of Relics, as, the Crown of Thorns, the Blood which ran from our Saviour's side, his Swaddling Clouts, a great piece of the Cross, the Chain wherewith the Jews bound him, a great piece of the Stone of his Sepulchre, some of the Virgin's Milk, the Head of the Lance which pierced our Saviour, his Purple Robe, the Sponge, a piece of his Shroud, the Napkin wherewith he was girt when he washed his Disciples Feet, the Rod of Moses, the Head of St. Blaze, St. Clement and St. Simeon, and part of St. John Baptist's. It was with some difficulty we procured the sight of these, they were too Holy to be seen by Protestants; but when they considered our Money was Catholic, we were admitted to view them; and Venerable Relics we should have esteemed them, if they could have fooled us into a Belief that they were all sixteen hundred Years old, and yet neither the Blood nor Milk dried up, nor the rest of the Trinkets never the worse for wearing.  
Without this Chapel is the Burse, 
The Burse, or Exchange.  lafoy Gallery de merchand's, a rank of Shops, in show, but not in Substance, like those in the Exchange at London.  
Next and adjoining to these, 
The great Palace.  is the great Palais, within the Verge of which are the seven Chambers of Parliament, of which le Grand Chamber is the finest, and in it is the Throne, or Royal Seat of the King, Clothed with Purple Velvet when they expect him, and at other times naked. This Court of Parliament was Instituted for the preservation of the Rights and Privileges of the People, and was anciently of great Authority, but now is dwindled into nothing in that respect, and they now only sit to dispatch what the King commands them.  
The King's Palace is seated on the Westside of the Ville of Paris, 
The King's Palace, or the L'Ouvre.  hard by Port Neuf, and the new Bridge, built by Philip Augus tus, Anno 1214. and intended for a Castle. It is called the Lovure quasi l' Ouure, or the Work, by way of excellency. The French Writers have raised it to a Miracle, but for my part, I never saw any thing more abused by a good Report, or that more scandalises the Rumour that is made about it. I expected to have seen some Prodigy of Architecture, which would have put me into such a Passion, as to have cried out with the young Gallant in the Comedy when he saw his Mistress; Hei mihi qualis erat? talis erat, qualem nunquam ego vidi? But I was balked in my Expectation, and could find nothing in it to Admire, much less to Envy. The Fable of the Mountain which was with Child, and brought forth a Mouse, is questionless a Fable, and this House, and the Fame it has acquired in the World, is the M●ral of it; for if you carefully examine it in parts, it will appear so disagreeable to itself, and the Rules of Art, that the whole does not merit the Character that is given it. The Draw-Bridges, and the three Gates, are unsightly at your entrance. In the Quadrangle are several Fashions of Buildings of three or four Ages ago, and as Inartificially and Immethodically joined, as if they had been jumbled together by an Earthquake. The South and West parts, the Work of Francis I. and his Son Henry, are Prince like, and when the rest of the House is cast in the same Mould, it may deserve the Character of a stately Pile of Building. The Inside is worse than the Outside, and so clustered with many little Rooms, that it looks more like a Tavern than a King's Palace, especially when you consider, tho' the Chambers are well built, they are but very indifferently furnished.  
The first of the two Galleries is curiously adorned with Pictures of the Kings and Queens of France, the Tables all of a just length, 
The fine Gallery:  incomparably Painted, and contain a perfect History of the State and Court of France in their several Successions; for under each of their King's Pictures are those of the Lords who had Signalised themselves in Honourable Actions. And under each of the Queens the lively Portraitures of the Principal Ladies who had honoured the Court with their Beauty and Virtue. A witty Invention, and as happily expressed by the Artists.  
The Long Gallery is about five hundred Yards in length, 
The long Gallery.  and of breadth and height not unproportionable. A Room built rather for Ostentation than Use, and has more in it of the Majesty than the Grace of its Founder.  
The principal Beauty, (if I might judge) of the Lovure, is lafoy Salle des Antiques, 
The Hall of Antiquities.  the Hall of Antiquities, a low, plain Room paved with Brick. without any Hang, and yet in my mind, the best furnished of all I saw in France. It has five of the most Ancient and Venerable Pieces of all the Kingdom; but herein I shall be thought a mean and unfashionable Soul by the Monsieurs, who are regardless of Antiquity, both in the Monuments, and in the Study of it, and are all for new things, especially , as oft as they can get them. The five Pieces above named, are the Statue of Diana, which was Worshipped in the Renowned Temple of Ephesus, of a large and manly proportion, all naked but her Feet, and what Modesty commands to be covered. Another was the Statue of one of the Ethiopian Gods, as black as his People. Next to that grim Deity, was the Effigies of Mercury, with a Pipe in his Mouth, and all naked but his Feet. The fourth was the Portraiture of Venus quite naked, in her hand her little Son Cupid sitting on a Dolphin: And last of all, Apollo in the same naked Posture, except that contrary to the Mode of France he had Shoes on, but whether they were made of Leather or Wood, I am not able to determine. All these are said to be given to the King of France by his Holiness of Rome. A pleasant exchange for the Pope to give him the Gods of the Heathens, who had given himself to the Idols of the Romans, and I believe upon the same Terms the now King of England might have all the Relics and Ruins of Antiquity in Rome.  
Not far from this Room, 
The House of Bourbonne and the Tuilleries.  on the other side of the Lovure, is the House of Bourbon. On the Tuilleries. I have nothing to say, but that they were built by Catharine of Medici's, Anno 1564. and took name from the Lime-Kilns and Tile-pits there, before the Foundation of the fine House and Gardens.  
The present King of France is the Son of Lewis XIII. by the Lady Anna, 
The King.  Infanta of Spain, at whose Marriage, the Spaniards unwilling to fall under the French Obedience, which might very well happen, she being the eldest Sister of the King, they inserted a Clause in the seventh Article of Marriage, That neither the said Infanta, nor the Children born by her to the King, should be capable of Inheriting any of the Estates of the King of Spain; and in the eighth Article, (being Married at eleven Years of Age) she is bound to make an Act of Renunciation under her own Hand Writing as soon as she came to be twelve Years old, which was accordingly performed. Lewis XIV. now Reigning, was born Aug. 26. 1638. succeeded his Father in 1643. was Crowned by the Archbishop of Rheims, June 7th 1654. and Married Maria Theresia, Daughter to Philip iv King of Spain, by whom he had only a Son, Lewis, Surnamed the Hardy, the present Dauphin, born November 1. 1661. He Married Maria Anna Christina, Daughter to the late Elector of Bavaria, by whom he has three Sons, Lewis, Duke of Burgundy, born Aug. 6. 1682. Philip, Duke of Anjou, born November 19 1683 and Gaston, Duke of Berry, born Aug. 31. 1686. But of this great King, his Court and Government, I shall say nothing till I am out of his Dominions, and then, Sir, you may expect his History.  
Having wearied ourselves with the sight of Paris, 
Madrid.  we went to see some of His Majesty's Houses in the Country; and here we passed by. Madrid, so called from the King of Spain's Palace at Madrid, after the Form of which it is built. The Founder was Francis I. A well contrived House it seemed to be, but our Journey lay beyond it.  
A League further is Rual, 
Rual.  a little Town belonging to the Abbey of St. Denys, in which is a pleasant Summer-house, adorned with abundance of retired Walks, and a curious variety of Water-works; for besides the Forms of divers Glasses, Pillars, and Geometrical Figures, all formed by the Water, there were Birds of sundry sorts, so Artificially contrived, that they both deceived the Eye by their Motion, and the Ear by their Melody. Somewhat higher, in the midst of a pleasant Garden, are two Fountains of admirable Workmanship. In the first is the Image of Cerberus, the Boar of Calydon, the Nemaean Lion, and in the Navel of it, Hercules killing Hydra. In the other only a Crocodile full of wild and unruly Tricks, sending from his Throat a Music not much differing from that of Organs, and had your Eyes been shut, you would have thought yourself in a Cathedral Church; for the Melody of the Crocodile and the Birds, exactly counterfeited the Harmony of a well ordered Quire. And now we are come into the Grove, a place so sweetly contrived, that it would even entice a Man to Melancholy, because in them Melancholy would be delightful. The Trees so interchangeably folded, that they were at once a shelter against Wind and Sun, yet not so sullenly closed, but that they afforded the Eye a Prospect over the Vines and the Verdure's of the Earth that were imprisoned within them. It seemed a Grove, an Orchard, and a Vineyard, so variously interwoven, as if the Artist had designed to make one fall in love with Confusion. In the middle of the Wilderness is the House, environed with a Moat of Running-water; the House pretty, and therefore little, built rather for a Banquet than a Feast. It was built and thus enriched by M. de Ponte, the King's Tailor, and was without question, the finest Garment he ever cut out in his life. Dying, he gave it to Mr. Landerbon, and the Queen Mother taking a liking to it, bought it, giving in exchange, an Office in the Treasury worth 400000 Crowns to be sold.  
Two Leagues from Rual, 
St.  en Lay.  is the King's House of St.  en Lay, where the late King James now Resideth, seated on the top of an Hill like Windsor, with the Town of St.  lying about it, and the River Seine, like the Thames, running below it. This Royal Seat is divided into two parts, the Old and the New, and the whole composes a Majestical Palace. The Lovure so much famed, is not to be named the same Day with this, in respect of the Spaciousness of the Rooms, and the Curiosity of the Paintings, and other Rarities.  
In a stately large Walk vaulted over head, 
The Waterworks.  are the Water-works, and the first thing you encounter, is the Effigies of a Dragon, just against the entrance, which vomits upon all that come nigh him. At the end towards the right hand is the Statue of a Nymph sitting before a pair of Organs. Upon losing one of the Pipes, the Nymph began to singer the Keys, and made excellent Music. Unto the Division run by her Fingers, her Head kept time, jolting from one Shoulder to the other, like an Old Fiddler at a Country Wake. At the other end toward the left hand we saw a Shop of Smiths, another of Joiners, and the Backsides full of sawyer's and Masons all idle; but upon a motion of the Water they all fell to work, and plied it lustily. The Birds every where by their singing, saving the Artificers the labour of whistling; besides, upon the drawing a Wooden Curtain appeared two Tritons riding on their Dolphins, with each of them a Shell in his Hand, which interchangeably served for Trumpets. Afterwards followed Neptune sitting in his Chariot, drawn with four Tortoises, grasping his Tricuspis, or threefold Sceptre in his hand, the Water under them representing all the while the Sea somewhat troubled. Thirty six steps from the Front of the Mansion-House we descended into this Water-house, and by sixty more we descended into a second of the same fashion, but not so long as the other. At the right hand of this, is the whole Story of Perseus and Andromeda, and the whole acted very lively, the Whale being killed, and the Lady loosed from the Rock; but withal was so cunningly managed, and with such mutual change of Fortune between the Combatants, that one that had not known the Fable, would have been sore afraid, that the Knight would have lost the Victory, and the Lady either her Life or Honour. At the other end of the House was showed us  
Orpheus in silvis positus, silvaeque sequentes. the resemblance of Orpheus playing on a Violin, the Trees moving, and the Wild Beasts Dancing in two Rings about him; an Invention that could not but cost King Henry great Sums of money, since 'tis reported that the breaking of one Fiddlestring cost King Lewis, his Son, fifteen hundred Livres. Another Door opening, we saw divers Representations and Conceits, which would have been more Graceful, if they had not had so much of the Puppet-Play and Punchanello in them. By thirty Steps more we descended into the Garden, and by as many more into a Green, where was the Statue of a Horse in Brass, of that Bigness and Beauty, that he is scarce to be marched in Europe.  
On the other side of Paris up the River, 
St. Vincent ' s.  we saw another of the King's Houses called St. Vincenas, beautified with a large Park well stocked with Deer. In this House died Philip the Fair, Lewis Hutin, and Charles the Fair; but none so much to be lamented, as that of our Illustrious Henry the Fifth, cut down in the flower of his Age, and in the midst of his Victories. A Prince truly Brave, Wise and Valiant, and the Alexander of his Time, whose remembrance returned us sorrowful into Paris.  
Here we rested a while, 
A French Servant.  and being desirous to entertain a French Servant, we had soon our choice of many, but generally such Grim and familiar Scabs, that nauseated an English Eye; but at length so many making Addresses to us, for fear the Government should think we were Listing a Regiment, we pitched upon one that looked the Modestest of all the Fry, and enquiring into his Qualifications, he told us with a brisk French Air, that he was Un Maistre de Fence, Un Maistre de Dance, and Squire of the Toilet, but seeing by our Countenances we were neither Fighters, Fops, nor Dancers, he told us in Broken English, he could do any thing belonging to an accomplished French Serviteur. He could Drive de Caroche, or Squire de Lady, Dress de Horse, make the Pottage, or Cook de Fricasy, Ride de Menage Cheval, Mend de Breech, Foot de Stocking, Shave the Beard, or make Clean de Shoe after the best and newest Fashion A le Cour; and under this Character we took him.  
Having now seen the King's Court, 
The Clergy of France.  of which you may expect a more particular Account in my next Packet, or when we shall meet in happy England, suffer me here then to skip over that and give you a short, but true Account of their Clergy, and of their Church Revenues, which must needs be unaccountable, since it maintains so great a number of Idle, Ignorant Mass Mumblers; for not reckoning the Jesuits, which shall have a Line by themselves, which are none of the poorest, and daily increase like Locusts and Caterpillars, nor any of the Clergy in their New Conquests, there are numbered in France twelve Archbishoprics, an hundred and four Bishoprics, five hundred and forty Arch-Priories, one thousand four hundred and fifty Abbeys, twelve thousand three hundred and twenty Priories, sixty seven Nunneries, seven hundred Convents of Friars, two hundred fifty nine Commendams of the Order of Malta, and one hundred and thirty thousand Parish Priests, besides Lay Officers and Attendants upon all the several Orders.  
To maintain this large Wilderness of Men, 
Their Maintenance.  the Statesmen of France, who have proportioned the Country, do allow to the Clergy a fourth part of the whole; for supposing that France contains two hundred Millions of Arpin's (a measure somewhat larger than our Acre) they have allotted to the Church for its Temporal Revenue forty seven Millions of them. A pretty Competency. To give you a taste for the whole. The Archbishopric of Aux in Gascoin, is valued at forty thousand Pound English communibus Annis. The Bishopric of Alby in Languedoc, is reckoned at fifteen thousand Pounds Annually. The Abbot of Cluniac, in the Duchy of Burgundy, is valued at fifty thousand Crowns yearly, and the Parish Priest of Estiennes, St. Steven's in Paris, receives Yearly no fewer than 8000 Crowns.  
As for the Vulgar Clergy, they have but little Tithe, and less Glebe, 
The Inferior Clergy.  most part of that Revenue being appropriated to Abbeys and other Religious Houses, and they live only upon the Baisemens', the Church Offerings of the People, at Marriages, Christen, Burials, Dirges, Indulgences, and the like, which is thought to amount to as much as the Temporal Estate of the Church, and would maintain them well, if it were not for the greatness of their number; for generalty every Parish has no fewer than four Priests, which are too many to be Rich, and there is little hopes of their Rising, while they see the best of their Church Preferments given away before their Faces to Boys and Children, which disheartens them in their Studies, and exposes them to Debauchery and scandalous Courses.  
Notwithstanding their Wings are thus clipped, 
Their Morals.  and that Shame and Fear does somewhat Reform them; yet they will often give Nature a Fillip, and allow themselves in some good Fellowship, and to say truth, I think them the best Companions in France on a Journey, but not for an Acquaintance. They live very merrily, and keep a better Table than consists with their Vow, and yet far short of their former Affluency when Church Preferments in France were only at the Pope's disposal, tho' much Ease and very little Study, keeps them still plump, and in good liking. I once Travelled with three of these mortified Sinners, two Augustins, and one Franciscan, the merriest Crickets that ever chirped. When we came to a Vein of good Wine, they would cheer up themselves and their Neighbours, with Vivamus ut bibamus, & bibamus ut vivamus, and would Toy with the Wenches like young Kitlings, with their Tails or a Feather.  
The Common-Priests of France are as Dull and Blockish as flitting Beetles, 
Their Learning.  and for Learning, can truly say with Secrates, Hoc tantum Scimus, quod nescimus, we only know this that we know nothing which their Superiors know, and therefore in the last Roman Missal, every Syllable is diversely marked, whether the Word must be pronounced long or short. When I had lost myself in the Streets of Paris, and wanted French to inquire my way to my Lodging, I would apply myself to some of this Reverend Garb; but you might as soon expect Sense from the next Mule, as a word of Latin from any of them; nor is this the Disease of the Vulgar Mass Mumblers only, it has also infected the Right Worshipful of the Clergy.  
In Orleans I had business with a Canon of St. Croix, a Dignitary that wore a Lawn Surplice laced with great Decorum, and for the comeliness and capacity of his Cap, he might have been a Metropolitan, perceiving me to speak to him in a strange Tongue, (for it was Latin) he very Learnedly asked me Num potestis loqui Gallica. I answering, No; he burst out into another Interrogatory, viz. Quam diu fuistis in Gallice. To conclude Sir, having read over my Letter with two or three deadly Pangs, and six times rubbing his Temples, he dismissed me with this comfortable Saying, Ego negotias vestras curabo; a strange Beast in a Biggin, and one of the greatest Prodigies of Ignorance, that ever I met withal in Man's Apparel.  
Now, 
Our Journey towards Orleans.  being almost choked with the noisomness of Paris, we took our Journey towards Orleans. The Day was fair, and not so much as disposed to a Cloud, save that about Noon they began to spread like a Curtain, to defend us from the Injury of the Sun, and the Wind rather sufficient to fan the Air than disturb it. You would have thought it, Sir, a Day merely framed for that great Princess Nature to take her pleasure in, and that the Birds which cheerfully gave us their Voices from the neighbouring Bushes, had been the Music of her Court; in a word, it was a Day solely consecrated to a pleasant Journey, and he that did not put it to that use misspent it.  
Having crammed ourselves into our Wagon, we took a short farewell of Paris, joyful that we lived to see the beauty of the Fields again, and to enjoy the happiness of a free and clear Heaven. The Country is like the Isle of France towards Normandy, only the Cornfields were more large and even. On our left hand we had a side Glance of the Royal House at Boys, and the Castle of Bifectre.  
Four Leagues from Paris is the Town of Mont l' Herrie, 
Mont l' Herrie.  wherein was nothing observable but the Carcase of a Castle, and a Plain about it, where was fought that memorable Battle between Lewis XI. and Charles the Hardy, Duke of Burgundy, where each Army run away, leaving the Field empty of Forces, and yet neither of the Princes Victorious. Some scoured away out of fear to Die, and some out of hope to Live, that it was hard to say, which of the Soldiers made most use of their Heels in the Combat.  
Two Leagues from Mont l' Herrie, 
Chastres.  is the Town of Chastres, seated in the fairest Angle of France, where it confines to La Beauss, a Town of an ordinary size, somewhat bigger than for a Market, and too little for a City. It has a Wall and a Ditch, but neither further serviceable than to resist the Enemy at one Gate, while the People run away at the other.  
Over a little River which might be easily mistaken for a Ditch, 
Estampes.  lies the Country La Beauss, through which we Travelled till the same Night we came to Estampes, a Town situate in a plentiful Soil, and watered with a River of the same Name, which affords the best Crevices. It seems to have been a Town of some consideration formerly, as we might read in its Ruins. Without the Town is a fine green Meadow, where they use their Recreations. At my being there, Sir, the Sport was Dancing, an Exercise the French much delight in, and it seems this Natural Inclination is so rooted in them, that neither Age not the absence of a Fortune can prevail against it. On this Dancing Green were assembled not only Youth and Gentry, but Old Age and Beggary. Old Wives that could scarce set Foot to the Ground without a Crutch in the Street, here taught their Feet to amble, and you would have thought by the cleanly Conveyance and Carriage of their Bodies, they had been troubled with the Sciatica, and yet were so eager in the Sport as if their Dancing days would never be over. Some were so Ragged, that a swift Galliard would almost have shaked them into Nakedness. To have attempted staying them at home, or persuading them to work when they heard the noise of a Fiddle, had been a Task too unwieldy for Hercules. In this mixture of Age and Condition, we observed them in their Pastimes, the Rags being so interwoven with Silks, and wrinkled Brows so intermingled with their fresh Beauties, that you would have thought it a Mummery of Fortunes; as for those of both Sexes which were altogether past Action, they were brought thither in Chairs, and trod the Dancing Measures with their Eyes.  
The Inn we lay in was just like those of Normandy, 
Another way of Begging in an Inn.  and all the difference we found was in the Morning; for there we were not troubled with such importunate Begging as in that Country. These had learned a more Neat and Compendious way of getting Money, and Petitioned, not our Ears, but our Noses, by the Rhetoric of a Nosegay, and by presenting us with a Tuft of dead Flowers, seemed rather to Buy than Beg our Bounties. A sweeter and more generous kind of Craving than used in Normandy, and such as employed a lucky Contradiction; for what is it else, that a Maid should offer herself to be Deflowered without prejudice to her Modesty, and raise a Fortune for her future Husband by the Usury of a Kindness?  
Refreshed with these Favours, 
Angerville.  we took our leaves of Estampes, and the Dancing Miscellany, jogging on through many a beautiful Field of Corn till we came to Angerville, which was six Leagues distant. Here was nothing memorable, but that the Town had been taken by Montacute, Earl of Salisbury as he went this way to the Siege of Orleans, The same Fate befell Touray, a Place not much beyond it in strength or bigness, only it had more confidence (as Mr. Savage, an English Gentleman once said) in the Walls of Bones that were within it, than in the Walls of Stones which were without it.  
This Town stands in the midway betwixt Estampes and Orleans, 
Our Entertainment at Dinner.  and therefore a fit Stage to Act a Dinner on; and to it we went. By that time we had cleared ourselves of a great platter of Pottage, there entered upon us three odd kind of Fellows with their Hats on their Heads like covered Dishes. As soon as I saw them, I cast one Eye upon my Riding-Coat, and the other upon my Whinyard, not knowing what use I might have of my Steel to secure my Drapery; but when I had Surveyed their Apparel, I quickly altered that Opinion, and looked upon them as the Excrements of the next Gaol. Deceived alike in both my Jealousies, on a nearer view I perceived their divertising parcel of Man's Flesh, in good truth, were neither better nor worse than errand French Fiddlers, which in England we should have thought unworthy of a Whiping-Post. Without ask Leave, or paying any Reverence to the Company, they fell a scraping in as harsh a Tone as the Courting of Cats at Midnight, and as if that had not been Punishment enough, they abused our Ears with one of their Songs. By that little French I had, and the Simpering of a Filly de Joy of Paris, that Traveled in our Company, I perceived it was Bawdy, and to say the truth, Ranker than could be endured by any thing but a Frenchman; but what could I do? I had not French enough to call them Rogues handsomely, and the Scoundrels were below a Beating. A Gang of Rascals so infinitely inferior to the Dignity of a Statute, that to Hang them, had been but to cast away a Rope, and disparage the Reputation of the Gallows.  
After their smutty Song was ended, one of the Hanging-looked Company, which afterward appeared to be Master of the Misrule, pulled a Dish out of his Codpiss, and sets it upon the Table before us, into which, according to the French Custom, we must cast in our Benevolence. Prescription Time out of Mind, has allowed them a Sou for each Man at the Table, more they don't expect, and will take no less; no great Sum I confess, but 'twas richly worth the Music, which was merely French, Lascivious in Words, and Unskilful in the Playing.  
We are now, 
The City of Orleans.  Sir, come into the Country of Orleans, which, though within the Limits of La Beauss, will be thought to be a Province of itself. 'Tis a pleasant and plentiful Country of Corn and Vines, and may be called the Epitome of France. The Town is situate on the Declivity of a Hill, with a Bridge, a Wall, and Turrets capable of making Resistance to an Enemy. It is very Populous, the delicacy of the Air, and the commodiousness of the River, inviting the Nobility and Gentry to Cohabit in it, and they accept it, and are a more Humane and Courteous sort of People than the Parisians, or any other in France that I have yet conversed with. The Buildings are like themselves, the Streets large and well kept, and give no Offence to the nicest Nostril. It has 26 Churches besides the Cathedral of St. Cross, and divers other Religious Houses. The Wine of Orleans is the greatest Riches of itself, and the Country about it. And in my Opinion, are the best in the Kingdom, in respect of the Delicacy of the Taste. I have heard of a Dutch Gentleman that tasting a Wine in Italy, called Lachrymae Christi, Christ's Tears, broke out into this pathetical Ejaculation, Dii Beni, quare non Christus Lachrymatus esset in nostris Regionibus? Why did not our Saviour weep in our Country? This Dutchman and I were for a while of the same mind, and I thought I had a fair Quarrel with Nature for giving us none of this Liquor in England; but we were soon reconciled, when I perceived it was offensive to the Brain if not well allayed with Water; for which Reason it is said that the present King hath banished it from his Cellar, no doubt to the great Grief of his Drinking Courtiers, who may therefore say with Martial, 
Quid tantum fecere boni tibi pessima Vina?  
Aut quid fecerunt optima Vina mali?   
This is a great Trading Town, 
Offices sold.  and especially for Offices, which are here, as well as in the rest of France, saleable for great Sums of Money, which they squeeze again out of the Purses and very Blood of the Peasants, saying with our Sergeants of the Counter, that being forced to buy the Devil, they are allowed to sell him at as hard a Bargain as they can. Twenty Years purchase, is said to be no extraordinary Rate, and I have read that only by the Sale of Offices, one of the Kings of France, that shall be nameless, raised in twenty Years, one Hundred and thirty nine Millions of Livres, which is about seven Millions Yearly. Of all ways to get Money the most ungenerous and mischievous, for the Sale of Offices necessarily draws after it the Sale of Justice.  
As this Town is sweetly seared in respect of the Air, 
The Palle-Malle and Recreations there.  so it has the conveniency of many fine Walks, the best of which is of the East side of the City, called the Palle-malle, from a very Gentlemanlike Exercise much used in this Kingdom. In this Walk, which is of a very great length and beauty, in a clear Evening you shall have all the Town appear, the aged People borrowing Legs to carry them, and the younger Arms to guide them. If any young Mademoiselle or Monsieurs walk thither alone, they will quickly find a Companion, tho' perhaps, such with whom they have yet no familiarity. Thus do they measure and remeasure the length of the Malle, not minding the shutting in of the Day, till darkness has taken away the sense of Blushing. At all hours of the Night, if it be warm and dry, you may find them thus coupled, and if at the Years end there be found more Children in the Town than Fathers, this Walk and the Night are shrewdly suspected to be Accessaries.  
There is another Walk in this Town, 
L'Estappe  called L' Estappe, which is principally frequented by Merchants, to Confer about their Traffic and other Negociations. It reaches to the Cloister of St. Cross, the Cathedral Church, of the Building of which I could never yet read or hear any thing but what is Fabulous, and not worth relating. Of the Town there is nothing more remarkable than the great Siege that was laid before it by the English, and was at last Relieved by Joan de Arc, Maid of Vancoleure in Lorraine, whom they called La Puelle, of whom you have an account in our own Chronicles. Some Proclaim her a Saint, and others regard her but as a Sorceress: For my part, I will not flatter the best Fortune of my Country to the prejudice of Truth, nor will I think otherwise of this Female Warrior but as a Noble Captain.  
In Orleans is also an University, 
The University of Orleans.  Founded by Philip de Belle, King of France, 1312. for the Profession of the Civil Law, and was the first of that kind on this side the Mountains. It has four Professors, and the Place in which they Read their Lectures, is called Les Grandes Escoles'; but rather aught to be called an old Barn converted into a School, by the Addition of five Ranks of Forms, and a Pew in the middle; you never saw any thing so severely mock its name. Their Principal Governor is the Rector, which every three Months descendeth to another; so that once a Year every one of the Professors hath his turn of being Rector. They Read each of 'em in their turns, an hour every Morning in the Week, except holidays and Thursdays, their Hearers taking of them their Lectures with their Tables.  
They are very Liberal in bestowing their Degrees, 
Conferring Degrees.  and deny no Man his Grace that is able to pay his Fees: Legem ponere is more powerful with them than Legem dicere, and the Blockhead that has but his Gold in his Hand, shall have a sooner Dipatch than the best Scholar upon Tick in the University. 
Ipse licet venias Musis comitatus, Homer,  
Si nihil attuleris, ibis, Homer, foras.  It is Money that disputes best with them.  
The Exercise that is performed before the Degree is taken, 
Their Exercises and Library.  is very little and as trivially performed. When you have chosen the Law you would defend, they Conduct you into an old ruinous Chamber, which they call their Library; for my part, I thought it the Warehouse of a Second-hand broken Bookseller in Ducklane. Those few Books which were there, were as old as Printing, and amongst them all a Man could scarcely make up one Cover to resist the Depredations of the Rats. They did not stand Endwise, but lay one upon another, and were joined together with Cobwebs instead of Strings. He that would ever guests them to have been looked into since the long Reign of Ignorance, would have Condemned his own Charity, for I could not believe that the three last Centuries of Years had ever seen the inside of them, but that the poor Paper had been troubled with the Disease we call Noli me tangere. In this unlucky Room do they hold their Disputations, and after two or three Arguments urged, they commend the Sufficiency of the Respondent, and pronounce him worthy of his Degrees. That done, they cause his Authentic Letters to be Sealed, and in them tell the Reader with what Diligence and Pains they have sifted the Candidate: That it is necessary to the Commonwealth of Learning, that Industry should be Honoured, and that on this ground they have thought fit: Post angustias solamen, post vigilias requietem, post dolores gaudia; for so as I remember runs the Form, to recompense the Labours of N. N. with the Degree of Doctor, or Licentiate, with a great deal more of the like formal Foolery. Et ad hunc modum fiunt Doctores.  
Next in this City of Letters, 
The Germane College.  as the French Writers call Paris, is the Germane College, where those of that Country Study, and for Decency, Order, and good Government, exceed all the rest of the University. A very hearty, good natured and loving Nation they are to all Men; but especially to the English. Only I could wish, that in their Speeches and Compliments, they would not use the Latin-Tongue, or else learn to speak it truly. Of these Ingredients is the University of Orleans compounded, and may pass for a Learned Academy among those that never saw one. It could scarce be called an University, till the Jesuits came among them, but rather a School of Law; but they having brought with them those Branches of Learning, which before, were wanting in it, it may better deserve that Appellation.  
The Jesuits, I say, have a College here, 
The Jesuits Callege and Schools.  and in it apply themselves with all imaginable Diligence in the Study of good Letters, and make such good Proficients in it, that they exceed all other sorts of Orders in the Roman Church, as having better Teachers, and more leisure to learn. That time which others spend at their High-Masses, and Canonical Hours, these Men bestow upon their Books, being exempted from these Duties by their Order. They trouble not their Heads with Crotchets in Music, nor Chanting their Services, but employ their Brains upon Matters of State, supporting their Friends and ruining their Enemies.  
To this advantage of Leisure, 
Their method in Teaching.  they add an exact Method in their Teaching, which indeed is so excellent, that Protestants oftentimes send their Sons to their Schools to have them prove Exquisite in the Arts they Teach. To them resort the Children of the Rich as well as the Poor, and that in such great numbers, that wheresoever they settle other Schools become desolate, or frequented only by those of a more heavy and phlegmatic Constitution. In their Schools are eight Classes. The lowest is for Grammar, the second for making Themes, the third for Poetry, the fourth for Oratory, the fifth for the Greek Grammar and Compositions, the sixth for Poetry and Rhetoric in that Language, the seventh for Logic, and the eighth and last for Philosophy. To each of these Schools or Classes, there is a several Reader or Institutor, who only intends that Art, and the perfection of it, which for that Year he Teacheth. The Year ended, he removes himself and his Scholars with him, into the Class or School next above him, till he has brought them through the whole Study of Humanity. In the last Form, which is that of Philosophy, he continues two Years, which being expired, his Scholars are made perfect in the Universality of Learning, are Manumitted from their Tutors, and permitted to follow their private Studies, but that which is their greatest Art in Teaching, and fittest for their purpose, is,  
That they do not only teach their Scholars an exactness in those parts of Learning which they handle, 
Their obstinate Humour.  but endeavour to breed in them an obstinacy of Mind, and a sturdy eagerness of Spirit, that may render them hot and fiery Prosecutors of their own Principles, and impatient of Contradiction. This I have observed makes all of their Education to affect Victory in all their Controversies of Wit and Knowledge, and manage it with such a Violence, that even in their Grammatical Disputations, little Boys will maintain their Arguments with such a fierceness and impatience, as surmounts their tender Years. And all this pains the Jesuits take for nothing. The poor Peasant's Son having the same Instructions with that of the Noblemen, and this procures the Society, Honour from the Great, and Love from the Poor, for the liberal Education of their Children, and gives them their choice of Wits to supply their Fraternities.  
Thus do they promote their own Interest in all their Undertake, insomuch, 
Destructive to all other Religions.  that Men of Wisdom and Judgement have been of Opinion, that the planting of a College of Jesuits in any place of the World, is a sure way to Re-establish the Religion they profess, and in time, to Root out any other. This was the effectual Method proposed by that Society, and their great Patron to the late King James, to exterminate Protestancy, and was followed by planting a Society of Jesuits in the Savoy, and setting up many private Schools to teach People's Children Gratis: and you, and I Sir, who love the present English Government, have often lamented the great Numbers of that sort of Incendaries that yet remain in our Metropolis, since in the single Parish of St. Martin's in the Fields, there is more than twenty Jesuits.  
In the Year 1554. 
Their first Entrance, Banishment, and Return.  notwithstanding the great opposition made by the Sorbonists, and all other Orders, they first got footing into France in the College of Clermont; and in the Year 1594. John Chastel, a Novitiate of that Order, having wounded King Henry iv of France, in the Mouth, they were Banished this Kingdom, and were not admitted again till 1604. and then upon Limitations more strict than ever. Now in this University they have many Houses, besides their Colleges and Monastery, and in short time 'tis believed that all France will be too little for them. Out of these Trojan Horses issue out those Fire brands and Incendiaries which put the Affairs of Christendom into Combustion, and there are forged all the Stratagems which threaten Protestant Countries with Desolation; there they are at the Head of all Affairs, Civil and Ecclesiastical, and what you in England may expect from such Counsels, is no difficulty to determine.  
I have now done with Orleans and the Jesuits, 
Our Journey back to Paris.  and am preparing for my Journey to Paris. We went back the same way we came, though we were not so Fortunate to enjoy so good Company as we brought hither. Instead of the accepable Society of one of the French Nobles, some Gentlemen of Germany, and two Friars of the Order of St. Austin, we had the perpetual vexation of four Tradesmen of Paris, two Fills de Joy, and an old Woman.  
The Artisans were so slovenly and greasily Apparelled, 
Two Tradesmen and an Apparator.  that a modest Apprehension would have thought them raked out of a Scullery. One of them by showing his Ink-horn, would have made us believe he was a Notary, but by the thread of his Discourse, we fond him to be an Apparator, so full of Ribbaldry it was, and smelled so rankly of the French Bawdy Court; but this we need not wonder at in the Summer, for it is the vanity of every Frenchman to appear greater than he is. The rest like _____ in London, were always babbling about who were the fittest Men in the City to be Eschevins, Sheriffs for the Year ensuing.  
Of the two Wenches one was so extremely impudent, 
Two Guilts.  that an immodest Ear would have abhorred her Discourse, and of such a shameless Deportment, that her Behaviour would have frighted Lust out of the most Debauched Man living. Since I first knew Mankind and the World, I never observed so much impudence in general, as I did then in that young nasty French Whore, and I hope, I shall never be so miserable as to suffer two Days more the Torment of her Conversation. In a Word, she was a Gilt born to shame all the Friars she had Traded with. The other Female, for I dare not call them Women, was of the same Profession, but not half so Rampant as her lewd Companion; for in respect of her, a Charitable Stranger would have thought her Honest. 
An old Woman.  The old Woman was so very old, that 'twas a Question whether she had ever been young or not. It was well I had read the Scripture, otherwise I might have thought her one of the first pieces of the Creation, that by some mischance had escaped the Deluge. Her Face was like that of the Sibyl Erythraea in some old Print before a Ballad, or one of Solomon's two Harlots in a Painted Cloth over the Chimney in a Country Alehouse, or like one of the Relics of the first Age after the building of Babel, for her Complexion was a more dreadful Confusion than that of Languages. But of this Companion, and the rest of the Coachful, our arrival at Paris, has at last delivered us, a Mercy we can never be sufficiently thankful for.  
Having thus Surveyed as much of this Country as opportunity would afford us, 
Amiens.  Mr. N. by whom I send this, having a strong desire to return into England, we resolved to accompany him to Calais, and taking our Journey thither in a Coach of Amiens, better accompanied than when we came from Orleans; for here we had Gentlemen of the best Quality, and in my Opinion, more Ingenious, and better Conditioned than any I had met with in all the Acquainance I had contracted in this Nation, and which appeared wonderful, we had no vexation with us in the shape of a French Woman to torment our Ears with her impertinent Discourse, or punish our Eyes with her Complexion.  
Thus Associated, 
St. Loup.  we wagged on toward St. Loup, where that Night we were destined to be lodged. As we passed by Water from Amiens to Abbeville, in our Boat were two French-Gentlewomen, one of which perceiving me to be English, asked me my Religion. I answered, as I justly might, that I was a Catholic, and she, for her better satisfaction, offered me the little Cross on the top of her Beads to kiss, which I should have chose to have done rather than her Lips, and did as she desired me: Upon which the rest of the Company pronounced me, Un urai Christien & ne point un Huguenot, a true Chistian, and not a Huguenot. But to proceed on our Journey. The same day we parted from Paris, we passed through Luzarch and St. Loup, and came into Picardy, where the first Town of Note for nothing, is Clermont, from thence to Bretaul, where we were harboured, and our Entertainment such as in other Places, as Sluttish as Inconvenient.  
The next day about ten, 
The City of Amiens,  we had fight of the fair and goodly City of Amiens A City very Capacious, and for that reason has been often honoured with the Persons and Retinues of many great Princes. Suburbs it has none, because a Town of War, nor Territories, because a Frontier; yet the People are indifferent Rich, have a good Trade, besides the benefit of the Cathedral.  
A strong Garrison, 
The Garrison.  which in times of Peace maintains five hundred Soldiers, though the Citadel being seated on a Hill in the lower part of the Town, it seems fit to command than defend it, or to recover it being taken, than to save it from taking. Those that have seen it, and understand the Art of Fortification, say it is Impregnable, nor am I able to contradict it; for besides that it is a skill beyond my Profession, we were not allowed to go within it. A commendable Policy in this Nation, and upbraids the Folly of the English, who for dozen of Ale, will show a Foreigner the Curtain of Portsmouth, and let him measure the Sconces and Bulwarks, and for a Shilling more, he shall see the Provision and Ammunition, and walk the Round too. A French Crown fathoms the Walls of Dover-Castle, and Sounds the Peer, and for a Pint of Wine one may see the Block house at Tilbury in Essex; which is breaking open the Fences and Enclosures of our Nation, and exposing our nakedness to Strangers. Another Circumstance that Ennobles this Town, is, that it is a Visedamate, and gives Honour to one of the Nobility, who is called Visedame of Amiens. In relation to the King, it has a Military Governor, and as a Corporation the chief Governor is a Mayor and Sheriffs, besides those of the Common-Council.  
Another thing which adds to the lustre of Amiens, 
The Church Nostre-Dame.  is the Church of Notre dame, a Name by which most of the principal Churches in France are known; for they give every where more Honour to our Lady than our Saviour, to Mary than to Jesus, and for one Paternoster that the People are enjoyn'n to rehearse, there are ten Ave-marias', and to recompense one Pilgrimage to Christ's Sepulchre at Jerusalem, you shall hear of two hundred taken to our Lady of Loretto, She has four times more Holy Days assigned her, set Forms of Prayers prescribed in the two Books, one called the Office, and the other the Rosary, whereas her Son must be contented with the Orisons in the Common-Mass-Book. Her Shrines and Images are more glorious and magnificent than those of her Son, and in her Chapels are more Vows paid than before the Crucifix.  
Leaving our Lady, let us take a view of her Church, 
The Church compared with Westminster Abbey.  which is questionless one of the most glorious Piles of Building under Heaven. The whole Body is of most curious polished Stones, supported by Buttresses of excellent Composure, that add to the beauty as well as strength of the Fabric. The Choir is fairer than the Body, thick set with dainty Pillars, most of them reaching to the top, in the fashion of an Arch, I am not able to judge whether this or the Choir of the Chapel of King Henry VII. at Westminster, is the more exquisite piece of Architecture, though I am persuaded that the most discerning Eye can find but little difference between them, and that difference rather subtle than sound; for if such Perfection may receive the word more, it may be said that of Amiens is more Majestical, and that of Westminster more Lovely, and yet neither disparage the other.  
The Front which presents us with two Towers and three Gates, is incomparable, 
The Front and Inside.  and all the Sacred Stories are so lively Engraved, that you would not think them Carved, but Acted, and is infinitely above the ambition of Imitation. Nor is its Glory (like Nostre-Dame in Paris and Roven) all on the outside, for as soon as you enter in, you would think the Materials were all of Gold, and that the Glory of Solomon's Temple next to the Description in the Holy Text is best read in this Church, of which it seems to be a well drawn Copy. Jupiter's House in Heaven that the Poets have built him, was never half so Gorgeous, and that imaginary Palace of Ovid is verified in this Mansion.  
Hic Locus est, quem si verbis audacia detur,  
Haud timeam magni dixisse Palatia Regis.  
The Partition between the Body and the Choir is so overlaid with Gold, that the acutest would apprehend no other Substance. On the top of it is the Statue of our Lady in the just height and proportion of a Woman, with a Child in her Arms, all either of Gold or extraordinary Gilded. The Glass of all the Windows are most curiously Painted, and the four Rows of Pillars with Tables on the top of them, containing the Pictures of Men of the better Quality of the City and adjacent Country, are exquisite pieces of Art and Admiration, and to view the beauty of the whole Structure, you would wish yourself all Eye and Contemplation; and the only trouble of an ingenious Man is, to see the whole abused to Idolatrous purposes.  
In this great Church are twenty four little Massing-Closets, 
Massing-Chappels.  and in that of St. Peter hung an Indulgence granted by Pope Gregory XV. Anno 1612. that gave an Exemption from the pains and place of Purgatory, to those who upon the Feast of All-Souls, and the Octaves of it, would pay their Devotions and Money in that Temple. At first, I thought this Charter a very Impolitic contrivance, for in time it would empty the Pope's Treasury, and at last put an end to Purgatory itself; but I soon perceived my Error, for his Holiness had restrained it in his Bull, only to the Natives of that Diocese, and left all the rest of the World in danger of those fancied Fires.  
Here I had the Mortification not to see the Head of St. John the Baptist, 
Of St. John Baptist's Head.  which is said to be here entire, but I recovered upon the remembrance, that in my Life-time I had seen it whole in more than an hundred of their Churches, besides pieces of it in double that number, and to believe them all to be true ones, is nothing, Sir, to what I find I must believe before I leave this Country, and I think in the complaisant humour I have taken up here, I shall not differ with them more about it, than with Pimper le Pim at Epsom, nor the famous Jugglers at Tunbridge, which deceive my Eyes while they Pick my Pocket.  
In a Boat like an English Lighter, 
Pignini, and the Story of it.  we went down the River Soame towards Abbeville, with thirty other Persons of different Nations, Languages and Conditions, but all as true Catholics as ever Woman groaned for; though, many of them, by the more than ordinary Civility they showed to us, I perceived were but of the last Edition, whom I pity, but dare not keep them Company, for fear of what may follow, which is here too severe and true to make a Jest of. The first thing, we saw observable, was the Town and Castle of Pignini, a poor beggarly Place, which they make remarkable fora Victory they here obtained over the English, but in whose Reign, and under whose Conduct they could not tell us; but add, that the English were discovered from other Nations confederated with them, and all put to the Sword for mispronouncing the word Pignini, which it seems then was no fit for an Englishman's Mouth than Shiboleth for an Ephraimite's, or a Fiddle for the Mouth of a Friar; but this is all Romance, and that which has caused it to be mentioned in our and their Histories, was an Interview between our Edward IU. and their Lewis XI. upon a nine Years Pacification. The next Place which the Water conveyed us to, was the Town and Castle of Pont d' Army, 
Pont d' Army.  now scarce visible in its Ruins.  
Three Leagues down this River is Abbeville, 
Abbeville.  conveniently seated on the River Soame, which runs through it. 'Tis bigger than Amiens, but not so beautiful nor populous; for the Houses are of an old Impression, and there is much waste Ground within it. A Castle it once had, but now that defect is supplied by Mounts and Bastions large and capacious, which, if well Man'd, need nor yield upon the first Summons. Without the Wall it is diversely strengthened, in some places with deep Ditches full of Water; the others only by a Boggish, Marish, Fenny Level, more dangerous to an Enemy, and serviceable to the Town than all the rest of its Fortifications, and therefore never guarded by the Soldters of the Garrison. They only keep Guard at Port de Boys, and Port St. Valery, the first looks towards Hesden, a Frontier Town of Artois, and the other towards the Haven of St. Valery, from which Places most danger was feared.  
July the last, we took Post-Horses, 
Our Journey to Bullogn on Post-Horses  or things very like them, for Bulloign; as lean and poor were the Steeds, as Envy in the Poet, Maries in corpora tota was their Character; for you might not only have counted their Ribs, but the Spur-galls had made such Casements through their Skins, that you might have Surveyed their Entrails, and given a better Account of the position of their Guts and Piping Lungs than Le Grey, or Markham in their Masterpieces. A strange kind of Cattle in my Opinion they were, and such as had neither Flesh on their Bones, Skin on their Flesh, nor scarce Hair on their Skins. Sure I am, they were no Kin to Ovid's Horses of the Sun, nor could we say of them, Flammiferis implent hinnitibus auras. For all the Neighing we could hear from the Proudest of them, was only an old dry Cough, which they brought from the late Campagne in Flanders, which in earnest, was a great comfort to me, for by that noise I perceived there was some Life in them. Upon such Skeletons of Horses, or heaps of Bones did I or my Companions never see ourselves before; and yet the Monsieurs that Travelled with us, thought themselves well Mounted, and cocked and looked as great as the little Gentleman that Rides in Triumph before the Bears and Bagpipes in London, and almost scratched their Behinds as often.  
When we expected, however to find something of the Post in them, having Bribed them on both sides, they began to move in an Alderman's pace, or like Envy in Ovid. 
Surgit humi pigre, passuque incedet inerti.  and out of this Melancholy Gravity no persuasion could urge them; the dull Jades were grown insensible of the Spur, and to hearten them with Wands would in a short time have distressed the Country for want of Wood Now was the Cart at deep thought a speedy Conveyance, and we envied the happiness of those that were blessed with a Wagon, though it came with the hazard of the old Wife, and the two smutty Wenches. If good Nature or a Fright in the Journey did ever put any of them into a pace like a Gallop, we were sure to have them Tyre in the middle of our Stage, and put us with our own Feet to measure out the rest of our Journey. Weary of this Trade, I made bold to dismount the Postilion, and ascended the Trunk-Horse, where I sat in such a Magnificent Posture, that the best Carrier in Paris would have envied my Felicity. Behind me I had a good large Trunk and a Portmantle, before me a bundle of Cloaks, and a parcel of Books. So that if my Stirrups could poise me equally on both fides, I could not fall backwards nor forwards. Thus preferred, I encouraged my fellow Travellers, who cast many an envious Eye upon my happiness, and there was not one of them that might not justly have said of me, Tu as un Millieur temps que le Pape, 
Monstreville and its Garrison.  Thou hast a better time on't than the Pope in all his Grandeur.  
On the Right Hand, and almost in the Midway between Abbeville and Bulloign we left the Town of Monstreville, which we had no leisure (than our Horses) to visit. It is conveniently seated either for command or resistance, being built upon the top and declivity of a Hill, well Fortified with Bastions and Ramparts on the outside, and within has a good Garrison of Soldiers. And indeed it concerns the King of France to look well to this important Place, being a border Town, within two Miles of Artois, and the taking of it would cut off all Intercourse between the Countries of Bulloign and Calais, with the rest of France, and of the like consideration are the Towns of Abbeville, Amiens and St. Quintin.  
We are now come to the Country of Bullinnois, which, though a part of Picardy, 
Bulloign.  disdains to be counted so, and will be esteemed as a Country of itself. It comprehends Bulloin, Escapes, Neufchastel, and divers little Villages, and consists of Hills and Valleys after the manner of England. Nor is it only a Country of itself, but in a manner a free Country; for it is held immediately of the Virgin Mary, who without Question is a very Gracious Land-Lady, for her Tenants enjoy a perpetual Exemption from many Tributes and Taxations, with which the rest of France are miserably afflicted. Amongst others, from that of Salt, by reason whereof, and the goodness of their Pastures they make the best Butter in all the Kingdom, and a Firkin of it is a very acceptable Present at Paris.  
The Town of Bullorgn is divided into the Upper and lower, distant from one another abour a hundred Paces. The lower Town is bigger than the Upper, which is called the City, better built, the Streets larger, and the People richer, most of the Merchants inhabiting here for the conveniency of the Haven. The Upper Town is environed with deep Ditches, a strong Wall, a triple Gate, and two Draw-Bridges; a little Town it is, not above a flights shot over in the widest Place, and has but one Church in it besides Nostre-Dame, which is the Cathedral. The Streets not many, and those narrow, except in the Marketplace, where the Corpse du Gardiner is kept. What the Outworks are, or whether it hath any, I cannot tell, for though it be a time of Peace, and they very fond of it, their Jealousy would not permit me to walk upon the Wall, either within or without the Town, and I wish that we were not inferior to our Neighbours in the greatness of their Care, since we are equal to the best of them in the goodness of our Country.  
On Monday the 28th of August, Mr. N. took Shipping for England with a fair Wind, I wish him a good Voyage, and these Papers safe in your Hands, with assurance that while I continue in France, you shall have a further Account of what occurs here, to  
SIR, Your Humble Servant, Eugenius Philo-Patriae.  
FINIS.