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This is no part of the French compu- tation : 'tis simply this. That by the last survey taken in the year one thousand seven hundred and sixteen, since which time there have been considerable augmentations, Paris doth contain nine hundred streets ; (viz.) In the quarter called the City -- there are fifty three streets. In St. James of the Shambles, fifty five streets. In St. Oportune, thirty four streets. In the quarter of the Louvre, twenty five streets. In the Palace Royal, or St. Honorius, forty nine streets. In Mont. Martyr, forty one streets. In St. Eustace, twenty nine streets. In |
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In the Halles, twenty seven streets. In St. Dennis, fifty five streets. In St. Martin, fifty four streets. In St. Paul, or the Mortellerie, twenty seven streets. The Greve, thirty eight streets. In St. Avoy, or the Verrerie, nineteen streets. In the Marais, or the Temple, fifty two streets. In St. Antony's, sixty eight streets. In the Place Maubert, eighty one streets. In St. Bennet, sixty streets. In St. Andrews de Arcs, fifty one streets. In the quarter of the Luxembourg, sixty two streets. And in that of St. Germain, fifty five streets, into any of which you may walk ; and that when you have seen them with 3 all |
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all that belongs to them, fairly by day- light -- their gates, their bridges, their squares, their statues - - - - and have cru- saded it moreover through all their parish churches, by no means omitting St. Roche and Sulpice - - - and to crown all, have taken a walk to the four palaces, which you may see either with or without the statues and pictures, just as you chuse -- ---- Then you will have seen ---- ---- but, 'tis what no one needeth to tell you, for you will read it yourself upon the portico of the Louvre, in these words, * EARTH NO SUCH FOLKS! -- NO FOLKS E'ER SUCH A TOWN AS PARIS IS! -- SING, DERRY, DERRY, DOWN. * Non Orbis gentem, non urbem gens habet ullam --------------------------------- ulla parem. The |
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The French have a gay way of treat- ing every thing thatis Great ; and that is all can be said upon it. IN mentioning the word gay (as in the close of the last chapter), it puts one (i.e. an author) in mind of the word spleen ---- especially if he has any thing to say upon it : not that by any analy- sis -- or that from any table of interest or genealogy, there appears much more ground of alliance betwixt them, than betwixt light and darkness, or any two of the most unfriendly opposites in na- ture ---- only 'tis an undercraft of au- thors to keep up a good understanding amongst words, as politicians do amongst men -- not knowing how near they may be |
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be under a necessity of placing them to each other -- which point being now gain'd, and that I may place mine ex- actly to my mind, I write it down here -- This, upon leaving Chantilly, I de- clared to be the best principle in the world to travel speedily upon ; but I gave it only as matter of opinion, I still continue in the same sentiments -- only I had not then experience enough of its working to add this, that though you do get on at a tearing rate, yet you get on but uneasily to yourself at the same time ; for which reason I here quit it entirely, and for ever, and 'tis heartily at one's service -- it has spoiled me the di- gestion of a good supper, and brought on |
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on a bilious diarrhæa, which has brought me back again to my first principle on which I set out ---- and with which I shall now scamper it away to the banks of the Garonne -- ---- No ; ---- I cannot stop a moment to give you the character of the people -- their genius -- their manners -- their cus- toms -- their laws -- their religion -- their government -- their manufactures -- their commerce -- their finances, with all the re- sources and hidden springs which sustain them : qualified as I may be, by spend- ing three days and two nights amongst them, and during all that time, making these things the entire subject of my en- quiries and reflections ---- VOL. VII. F Still |
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Still -- still I must away ---- the roads are paved -- the posts are short -- the days are long -- 'tis no more than noon -- I shall be at Fontainebleau before the king ---- -- Was he going there? not that I know ---- NOW I hate to hear a person, especially if he be a traveller, complain that we do not get on so fast in France as we do in England ; whereas we get on much faster, consideratis, considerandis ; there- by always meaning, that if you weigh their vehicles with the mountains of bag- gage which you lay both before and be- hind upon them -- and then consider their puny horses, with the very little they give |
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give them -- 'tisa wonder they get on at all : their suffering is most unchristian, and 'tis evident thereupon to me, that a French post-horse would not know what in the world to do, was it not for the two words ****** and ****** in which there is as much sustenance, as if you gave him a peck of corn : now as these words cost nothing, I long from my soul to tell the reader what they are ; but here is the question -- they must be told him plainly, and with the most dis- tinct articulation, or it will answer no end -- and yet to do it in that plain way -- though their reverences may laugh at it in the bed-chamber -- full well I wot, they will abuse it in the parlour : for which cause, I have been volving and revolv- ing in my fancy some time, but to no F 2 purpose, |
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purpose, by what clean device or facete contrivance I might so modulate them, that whilst I satisfy that ear which the reader chuses to lend me -- I might not dissatisfy the other which he keeps to himself. ---- My ink burns my finger to try ---- and when I have ---- 'twill have a worse consequence ---- it will burn (I fear) my paper. ---- No ; ---- I dare not ---- But if you wish to know how the ab- bess of Andoüillets, and a novice of her convent got over the difficulty (only first wishing myself all imaginable success) -- I'll tell you without the least scruple. C H A P. |
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THE abbess of Andoüillets, which if you look into the large set of provincial maps now publishing at Paris, you will find situated amongst the hills which divide Burgundy from Savoy, be- ing in danger of an Ankylosis or stiff joint (the sinovia of her knee becoming hard by long matins) and having tried every remedy ---- first, prayers and thanksgiving ; then invocations to all the saints in heaven promiscuously ---- then particularly to every saint who had ever had a stiff leg before her ---- then touching it with all the relics of the convent, principally with the thigh-bone of the man of Lystra, who had been impotent from his youth ---- then wrap- F 3 ping |
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ping it up in her veil when she went to bed ---- then cross-wise her rosary ---- then bringing in to her aid the secular arm, and anointing it with oils and hot fat of animals ---- then treating it with emol- lient and resolving fomentations ---- then with poultices of marsh-mallows, mallows, bonus Henricus, white lilies and fenugreek ---- then taking the woods, I mean the smoke of 'em, holding her scapulary across her lap ---- then decoc- tions of wild chicory, water cresses, chervil, sweet cecily, and cochlearia ---- and nothing all this while answering, was prevailed on at last to try the hot baths of Bourbon ---- so having first obtain'd leave of the visitor-general to take care of her existence -- she ordered all to be got ready for her journey : a novice of the |
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the convent of about seventeen, who had been troubled with a whitlow in her middle finger, by sticking it constantly into the abbess's cast poultices, &c. -- had gained such an interest, that overlook- ing a sciatical old nun, who might have been set up for ever by the hot baths of Bourbon, Margarita, the little novice, was elected as the companion of the journey. An old calash, belonging to the abbess, lined with green frize, was ordered to be drawn out into the sun -- the gardener of the convent being chosen muleteer, led out the two old mules to clip the hair from the rump-ends of their tails, whilst a couple of lay-sisters were busied, the one in darning the lining, and the other in sewing on the shreds of yellow bind- F 4 ing |
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ing, which the teeth of time had un- ravelled ---- the under-gardener dress'd the muleteer's hat in hot wine-lees ---- and a tailor sat musically at it, in a shed overagainst the convent, in assorting four dozen of bells for the harness, whistling to each bell as he tied it on with a throng ---- ---- The carpenter and the smith of Andoüillets held acouncil of wheels ; and by seven, the morning after, all look'd spruce, and was ready at the gate of the convent for the hot-baths of Bourbon -- two rows of the unfortunate stood ready there an hour before. The abbess of Andoüillets, supported by Margarita the novice, advanced slowly to the calash, both clad in white, with |
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with their black rosaries hanging at their breasts ---- ---- There was a simple solemnity in the contrast : they entered the calash ; the nuns in the same uniform, sweet emblem of innocence, each occupied a window, and as the abbess and Margarita looked up -- each (the sciatical poor nun excepted) -- each stream'd out the end of her veil in the air -- then kiss'd the lily hand which let it go : the good abbess and Margarita laid their hands saint-wise upon their breasts -- look'd up to heaven -- then to them -- and look'd ``God bless ``you, dear sisters.'' I declare I am interested in this story, and wish I had been there. The |
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The gardener, who I shall now call the muleteer, was a little, hearty, broad- set, good natured, chattering, toping kind of a fellow, who troubled his head very little with the howsand whens of life ; so had mortgaged a month of his con- ventical wages in a borrachio, or leathern cask of wine, which he had disposed be- hind the calash, with a large russet co- loured riding coat over it, to guard it from the sun ; and as the weather was hot, and he, not a niggard of his la- bours, walking ten times more than he rode -- he found more occasions than those of nature, to fall back to the rear of his carriage ; till by frequent coming and going, it had so happen'd, that all his wine had leak'd out at the legal vent of the borrachio, before one half of the journey was finish'd. Man |
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Man is a creature born to habitudes. The day had been sultry -- the evening was delicious -- the wine was generous -- the Burgundian hill on which it grew was steep -- a little tempting bush over the door of a cool cottage at the foot of it, hung vibrating in full harmony with the passions -- a gentle air rustled distinctly through the leaves -- ``Come -- come, ``thirsty muleteer -- come in.'' ---- The muleteer was a son of Adam. I need not say one word more. He gave the mules, each of 'em, a sound lash, and looking in the abbess's and Marga- rita's faces (as he did it) -- as much as to say, ``here I am'' -- he gave a second good crack -- as much as to say to his mules, ``get |
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``get on'' ---- so slinking behind, he en- ter'd the little inn at the foot of the hill. The muleteer, as I told you, was a little, joyous, chirping fellow, who thought not of to-morrow, nor of what had gone before, or what was to follow it, provided he got but his scantling of Bur- gundy, and a little chit-chat along with it ; so entering into a long conversation, as how he was chief gardener to the con- vent of Andoüillets, &c. &c. and out of friendship for the abbess and Madem- oiselle Margarita, who was only in her noviciate, he had come along with them from the confines of Savoy, &c. - - &c. - - and as how she had got a white swelling by her devotions ---- and what a nation of herbs he had procured to mollify her hu- mours, &c. &c. and that if the wa- ters |
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ters of Bourbon did not mend that leg -- she might as well be lame of both -- &c. &c. &c. -- He so contrived his story as abso- lutely to forget the heroine of it -- and with her, the little novice, and what was a more ticklish point to be forgot than both -- the two mules ; who being creatures that take advantage of the world, inasmuch as their parents took it of them -- and they not being in acondition to re- turn the obligation downwards (as men and women and beasts are) -- they do it side-ways, and long-ways, and back- ways -- and up hill, and down hill, and which way they can. ---- Philosophers, with all their ethics, have never consider- ed this rightly -- how should the poor muleteer then, in his cups, consider it at all? he did not in the least -- 'tis time we do ; let us leave him then in the vor- tex |
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tex of his element, the happiest and most thoughtless of mortal men ---- and for a moment let us look after the mules, the abbess, and Margarita. By virtue of the muleteer's two last strokes, the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill, till they had conquer'd about one half of it ; when the elder of them, a shrewd crafty old devil, at the turn of an angle, giving a side glance, and no muleteer behind them ---- By my fig! said she, swearing, I'll go no further ---- And if I do, replied the other -- they shall make a drum of my hide. ---- And so with one consent they stopp'd thus ---- C H A P. |
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---- Get on with you, said the abbess. ---- Wh - - - - ysh ---- ysh ---- cried Margarita. Sh - - - a ---- shu - u ---- shu - - u -- sh - - aw ---- shaw'd the abbess. ---- Whu -- v -- w ---- whew -- w --- w -- whuv'd Margarita, pursing up her sweet lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle. Thump -- thump -- thump -- obstrepe- rated the abbess of Andoüillets with the end of her gold-headed cane against the bottom of the calash ---- ---- The old mule let a f-- C H A P. 8 |