LETTER LI.

The next town of any note is Sens, a large, ragged, ancient city; but adorned with a most noble Gothic cathedral, more magnificent than even that of Rheims, and well worthy of the notice of strangers; it is said to have been built by the English: With the relicks and custodiums of the host, are shewn the sacerdotal habits, in which Archbishop Becket (who resided there many years) said mass, for it was his head-quarters, when he left Britain, as well as Julius Cæsar's before he went there. The silver hasps, and some of the ornaments of these garments, are still perfect, though it has undergone so many darnings, as to be little else.

Becket was a very tall man; for though it has many tucks in it, yet it is generally too long for the tallest priest in the town, who constantly says mass in it on St. Thomas's day.

How times and men are changed! This town, which resisted the arms of Cæsar for a considerable time, was put in the utmost consternation by Dr. Smollett's causing his travelling blunderbuss to be only fired in the air, a circumstance "which greatly terrified all the petit monde!" It is very singular, that the Doctor should have frightened a French nobleman of Burgundy, by shaking his cane at him, and even made him assist in the most servile offices; and in the next town, terrify all the common people, by only firing a blunderbuss in the air!

I would not willingly arraign a dead man with telling two fibbs so close upon the back of each other; but I am sure there was but that single French nobleman, in this mighty kingdom, who would have submitted to such insults as the Doctor says he treated him with; nor any other town but Sens, where the firing of a gun would have so terrified the inhabitants; for, drums, guns, and noise of every sort, seem to afford the common French people infinite pleasure.

I spent in this town a day or two, and part of that time with a very agreeable Scotch family, of the name of Macdonald, where Lieutenant Colonel Stuart was then upon a visit.

I have some reason to think that Sens is a very cheap town. Several English, Scotch, and Irish families reside in it.

From Sens to Port sur Yonne is three leagues, and from Yonne to Foussart the same distance.

At the three Kings at Foussart, suspecting there was a cat behind the bed in wait for my bird, I found, instead thereof, a little narrow door, which was artfully hid, and which opened into another room; and as I am sure the man is a cheat, I suspect too, that upon a good occasion, he would have made some use of his little door.

Foussart is a small place, consisting only of three or four public houses. From thence to Morret, is three leagues, on which road is erected a noble pillar of oriental marble, in memory of the marriage of Lewis the XVth. Soon after we passed this monument, we entered into the delightful forest of Fontainbleau; and passing three leagues to the center of it, we arrived at that ancient royal palace: it stands very low, and is surrounded by a great many fine pieces of water, which, however, render the apartments very damp. The King and royal family had been there six weeks, and were gone but ten days, and with them, all the furniture of the palace was also gone, except glasses, and a few pictures, of no great value. In a long, gallery are placed, on each side of the wall, a great number of stags' heads, carved in wood, and upon them are fixed the horns of stags and bucks, killed by the late, and former Kings; some of which are very outre, others singularly large and beautiful.

Fontainbleau is a good town, stands adjacent to the palace; and as the gardens, park, &c. are always open, it is a delightful summer residence. We staid a few days there, to enjoy the shady walks, and to see the humours of a great annual fair, which commenced the day after we arrived. All sorts of things are sold at this fair; but the principal business is done in the wine way, many thousand pieces of the inferior Burgundy wine being brought to this market.

We made two little days' journey from Fontainbleau to Paris, a town I entered with concern, and shall leave with pleasure.--As I had formerly been of some service to Faucaut who keeps the Hotel d'York, when he lived in Rue de Mauvais Garçon I went to this famous Hotel, which would have been more in character, if he had given it the name of his former street, and called it, L'Hotel de Mauvais Garçon for it is an hospital of bugs and vermin: the fellow has got the second-hand beds of Madame Pompadour, upon his first floor, which he modestly asks thirty louis d'ors a month for! All the rest of the apartments are pigeon-holes, filled with fleas, bugs, and dirt; and should a fire happen, there is no way of escaping. Nothing should be more particularly attended to in Paris than the security from fire, where so many, and such a variety of strangers, and their servants, are shut up at night, within one Porte Cochere.