[ 60 ]

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
In St. Oportune, thirty four streets.
In the quarter of the Louvre, twenty five
In the Palace Royal, or St. Honorius,
  forty nine streets.
In Mont. Martyr, forty one streets.
In St. Eustace, twenty nine streets.

[ 61 ]

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
In the Marais, or the Temple, fifty two
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

[ 62 ]

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



* Non Orbis gentem, non urbem gens habet ullam
        --------------------------------- ulla parem.


[ 63 ]

  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

[ 64 ]

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

[ 65 ]

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

[ 66 ]

  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 ----

C H A P. XX.

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

[ 67 ]

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,

[ 68 ]

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

  ---- 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-
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.

[ 69 ]


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

[ 70 ]

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

[ 71 ]

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

[ 72 ]

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,

[ 73 ]

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.


[ 74 ]

  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.

[ 75 ]

  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,

[ 76 ]

``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-

[ 77 ]

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-

[ 78 ]

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.

[ 79 ]


  ---- Get on with you, said the abbess.

  ---- Wh - - - - ysh ---- ysh ---- cried

  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.