When he was about thirteen or fourteen years old, his friends mustered their forces together to set him up in the world. They bought him shoes and stockings, for (according to the laudable custom of that country, of inuring their youth to hardship) till then he had never worn any. They also bought him a suit of the brokers, gave him their blessing and twenty sous in his pocket, and threw an old shoe after him, and bid him go seek his fortune. This throwing of an old shoe after him was looked upon as a great piece of prodigality in Normandy, where they are so considerable a merchandise; the citizens wives of the best quality wearing old shoes chalked, whence, I suppose, our custom of wearing white shoes derives its original.

His friends advised him to go to Paris, assuring him he would not fail of a condition there, if any could be had in the world; for so the French call Paris. He goes to Rouen, and fortunately meets with post-horses, which were to be returned, one of which he was proffered to ride gratis, only upon promise to help to dress them at night. And, which was yet more fortunate, he meets several young English gentlemen, with their governors, going to Paris, to learn their exercises, to fit them to go a wooing at their return home; who were infinitely ambitious of his company, not doubting but, in those two days travel, they should pump many cou siderable things out of him, both as to the language and customs of France, and, upon that account, they did very willingly defray his charges.

They arrive at Paris, and light in the Fauxbourg St. Germain, the quarter wherein generally the English lodge, near whom also, our Du Vall did earnestly desire to plant himself. Not long after, by the intercession of some of the English gentlemen (for in this time he had indeared himself to them) he was admitted to run on errands, and do the meanest offices at the St. Esprit, in the Rue de Boucherie: a house, in those days, betwixt a tavern, an alehouse, a cook's shop, and a bawdy-house, and, upon some of these accounts, much frequented by the English his patrons. In this condition he lived unblamcable, during some time, unless you esteem it a fault to be scabby, and a little given to filching qualities, very frequent in persons of his nation and condition.

The restoration of his majesty, which was in 1660, brought multitudes of all nations into England, to be spectators of our jubilee; but, more particularly, it drained Paris of all the English there, as being most concerned in so great a happiness. One of them, a person of quality, entertained Du Vall as his servant, and brought him over with him.

What fortunes he ran through afterwards, is known to every one, and how good a proficient he was in the laudable qualities of gaming and making love. But one vice he had which I cannot pardon him, because it is not of the French growth, but northern and ungenteel, I mean that of drinking; for, that very night he was surprised, he was overtaken.

By these courses (for I dare not call them vices) he soon fell

into want of money, to maintain his sport. That, and his stars, but chiefly his own valour, inclined him to take the generous way of padding; in which he quickly became so famous, that, in a proclamation for the taking several notorious highway-men, he had the honour to be named first.

This is the place where I should set down several of his exploits; but I omit them, both as being well known, and because I cannot find in them more ingenuity than was practised before by Hind and Hannum, and several other mere English thieves.

Yet, to do him right, one story there is that savours of gallantry, and I should not be an honest historian, if I should con

ceal it.

He, with his squadron, overtakes a coach, which they had set over night, having intelligence of a booty of four-hundred pounds in it. In the coach was a knight, his lady, and only one servingmaid, who, perceiving five horse-men making up to them, presently imagined that they were beset; and they were confirmed in this apprehension, by seeing them whisper to one another, and ride backwards and forwards. The lady, to shew she was not afraid, takes a flageolet out of her pocket, and plays: Du Vall takes the hint, plays also, and excellently well, upon a flageolet of his own, and in this posture he rides up to the coach-side. Sir,' says he, to the person in the coach, your lady plays excellently, and I doubt not but that she dances as well; will you please to walk out of the coach, and let me have the honour to dance one currant with her upon the heath.' 'Sir,' said the person in the coach, 'I dare not deny any thing to one of your quality and good mind; you seem a gentleman, and your request.is very reasonable:' which said, the lacquey opens the boot, out comes the knight, Du Vall leaps lightly off his horse, and hands the lady out of the coach. They danced, and here it was that Du Vall performed marvels; the best master in London, except those that are French, not being able to shew such footing as he did in his great riding French boots. The dancing being over, he waits on the lady to her coach. As the knight was going in, says Du Vall to him, 'Sir, you have forgot to pay the musick: No, I have not,' replies the knight, and, putting his hand under the seat of the coach, pulls out a hundred pounds in a bag, and delivers it to him; which Du Vall took with a very good grace, and courteously answered, Sir, you are liberal, and shall have no cause to repent your being so; this liberality of yours shall excuse you the other three-hundred pounds,' and, giving him the word, that, if he met with any more of the crew, he might pass undisturbed, he civilly takes his leave of him.

6

This story, I confess, justifies the great kindness the ladies had for Du Vall; for in this, as in an epitome, are contained all things that set a man off advantageously, and make him appear, as the phrase is, much a gentleman. First, here was valour, that he and but four more durst assault a knight, a lady, a waiting-gentlewonan, a lacquey, a groom that rid by to open the gates, and the

coachman, they being six to five, odds at football; and beside, Du Vall had much the worst cause, and reason to believe, that whoever should arrive, would range themselves on the enemy's party. Then he shewed his invention and sagacity, that he could sur le champ, and, without studying, make that advantage of the lady's playing on the flageolet. He evinced his skill in instrumental musick, by playing on his flageolet; in vocal by his singing; for (as I should have told you before) there being no violins, Du Vall sung the currant himself. He manifested his agility of body, by lightly dismounting off his horse, and with ease and freedom getting up again, when he took his leave; his excellent deportment, by his incomparable dancing, and his graceful manner of taking the hundred pounds; his generosity, in taking no more; his wit and eloquence, and readiness at repartees, in the whole discourse with the knight and lady, the greatest part of which I have been forced to omit.

And here (could I dispense with truth and impartiality, necessary ingredients of a good history) I could come off with flying colours, leave Du Vall in the ladies bosoms, and not put myself out of a possibility of ever being in favour with any of them.

But I must tell the story of the sucking-bottle; which, if it seem to his disadvantage, set that other against it which I am come from relating. The adventure of the sucking-bottle was as follows:

It happened another time, as Du Vall was upon his vocation of robbing, on Black-heath, he meets with a coach richly fraught with ladies of quality, and with one child, who had a silver sucking-bottle; he robs them rudely, takes away their money, watches, rings, and even the little child's sucking-bottle: Nor would he, upon the child's tears, nor the lady's earnest intercession, be wrought upon to restore it; till at last one of his companions (whose name I wish I could put down here, that he may find friends when he shall stand in need of them) a good-natured person (for the French are strangers both to the name and thing) forced him to deliver it. I shall make no reflexions upon this story, both because I do not design to render him odious, or make this pamphlet more prolix.

The noise of the proclamation, and the rewards promised to those who should take any therein named, made Du Vall retire to France. At Paris he lives highly, makes great boastings of the success of his arms and amours in England, proudly bragging, he could never encounter with any of either sex that could resist him. He had not been long in France, but he had a fit of his old disease, want of money, which he found to be much augmented by the thin air of France; and therefore, by the advice of his physicians, lest the disease should seize upon his vitals, and make him lie by it, he resolves to transport himself into England; which accordingly he did; for, in truth, the air of France is not good for persons of

his constitution, it being the custom there to travel in great companies well armed, and with little money; the danger of being resisted, and the danger of being taken is much greater there; and the quarry much lesser than in England: For, if by chance a dapper fellow, with fine black eyes, and a white peruke be taken there, and found guilty of robbing, all the women in the town do not presently take the alarm, and run to the king to beg his life.

To England he comes, but, alas! his reign proves but short, for, within a few months after his return, before he had done any thing of great glory or advantage to himself, he fell into the hands of justice, being taken drunk at the Hole in the Wall in Chandois-street; and well it was for the bailiff and his men that he was drunk, otherwise they had tasted of his prowess; for he had in his pocket three pistols, one whereof would shoot twice, and by his side an excellent sword, which, managed by such a hand and heart, must, without doubt, have done wonders. Nay, I have heard it attested by those that knew how good a marksman he was, and his excellent way of fencing, that, had he been sober, it was impossible he could have killed less than ten. They farther add, upon their own knowledge, he would have been cut as small as herbs for the pot, before he would have yielded to the bailiff of Westminster; that is to say, he would have died in the place, had not some great person been sent to him, to whom he might with honour have delivered his sword and himself. But taken he was, and that too a bon marche; without the expence of blood or treasure committed to Newgate, arraigned, convicted, condemned, and on Friday, January the 21st, executed at Tyburn, in the twentyseventh year of his age (which number is made up of three times nine) and left behind him a sad instance of the irresistible influence of the stars, and the fatality of climacterical years.

There were a great company of ladies, and those not of the meanest degree, that visited him in prison, interceded for his pardon, and accompanied him to the gallows; a catalogue of whose names I have by me, nay, even of those who, when they visited him, durst not pull off their vizards, for fear of shewing their eyes swoln, and their cheeks blubbered with tears.

When I first put pen to paper, I was in great indignation, and fully resolved, nay, and I think I swore, that I would print this muster-roll. But, upon second thoughts, and calmer considerations, I have altered my fierce resolution, partly because I would not do my nation so great a disgrace, and especially that part of it to whom I am so intirely devoted. But principally, because I hoped milder physick might cure them of this French disease, of this inordinate appetite to mushrooms, of this degenerous doating upon strangers.

After he had hanged a convenient time, he was cut down, and, by persons well dressed, carried into a mourning-coach, and so conveyed to the Tangier Tavern in St. Giles's, where he lay in state all that night, the room hung with black cloth, the hearse

covered with escutcheons, eight wax tapers burning, and as many tall gentlemen with long black clokes attending; mum was the word, great silence expected from all that visited, for fear of disturbing this sleeping lion. And this ceremony had lasted much longer, had not one of the judges (whose name I must not mention here, lest he should incur the displeasure of the ladies) sent to disturb this pageantry. But I dare set down a mark whereby you may guess at him. It is one betwixt whom and the highway-men there is little love lost, one who thought the fellow had honour enough done him, that he was not buried under the gallows.

This story of lying in state seemed to me so improbable, and such an audacious mockery of the laws, that, till I had it again and again from several gentlemen, who had the curiosity to see him, I durst not put it down here, for fear of being accounted a notorious lyar.

The night was stormy and rainy, as if the heavens had sympathised with the ladies, and ecchoed again their sighs, and wept over again their tears.

As they were undressing him, in order to his lying in state, one of his friends put his hands in his pocket, and found therein the speech, which he intended to have made, written with a very fair hand; a copy whereof I have, with much cost and industry, procured, and yet do freely make it publick, because I would not have any thing wanting, in this narration.

DU VALL'S SPEECH.

I SHOULD be very ungrateful (which, amongst persons of honour, is a greater crime, than that for which I die) should I not acknowledge my obligation to you, fair English ladies. I could not have hoped, that a person of my nation, birth, education, and condition could have had so many and powerful charms to captivate you all, and to tie you so firmly to my interest, that you have not abandoned me in distress, or in prison; that you have accompanied me to this place of death, of ignominious death.

From the experience of your true loves I speak it, nay, I know I speak your hearts; you could be content to die with me now, and even here, could you be assured of enjoying your beloved Du Vall in the other world.

How mightily, and how generously, have you rewarded my little services! Shall I ever forget that universal consternation amongst you, when I was taken? Your frequent, your chargeable visits to me at Newgate? Your shrieks, your swoonings, when I was condemned? Your zealous intercession and importunity for my pardon?

You could not have erected fairer pillars of honour and respect to me, had I been a Hercules, and could have got fifty sons in a night.

It has been the misfortune of several English gentlemen, in the times of the late usurpation, to die at this place, upon the honour.