passing the palace of the archbishop, merely
glancing at the building, when I was invited
to enter by a very smart gentleman in black,
with elaborately curled hair and a thick
gold chain over his satin waistcoat. He
courteously conducted me up the famous
tower staircase; which, similar to that in
the Castle of Amboise, inclines so gently,
without steps, that mules were accustomed to
carry their loads to the highest part. It now
reaches no higher than the second floor, where
it stops abruptly at a fine gothic window on a
landing-place. The roof is arched and carved,
and in perfect repair. The rest of the
palace has been rebuilt at different times,
and is very handsome. The dry-rubbed floors
of the numerous saloons are as bright as looking-glass,
and the heavy draperies and massive
furniture of the time of the Empire, give a
dignified air to the abode where the benevolent
Bossuet resided when Bishop of Meaux.
His chamber and cabinet, and the window
with small panes looking over a pretty terrace
and garden, were restored by Napoleon
the First, and remain as in old times; when
he sat there and reflected for the good of his
kind. An excellent portrait of him hangs
in the chief room, which my polite friend
pronounced the very best that was ever done.
There was much importance in the manner
of my guide with the gold chain. He spoke of
having travelled with Monseigneur—by whom
he meant the present bishop; also of persons
and places connected with the bishopric, and,
on the whole, impressed me with so much awe
that I felt sure he was at least the private secretary
of that dignitary, with whom he was
always associated as "we." He made me particularly
observe a clock which had been presented
by Napoleon the First to the then reigning
prelate. It was a pretty toy of the sort; the
face of purple enamel, with a border of large
pearls; the supporters two sphynxes of
Sevres china, and Grecian figures in the
correct taste of the time. The clock tells
the hours and minutes, and the phases of
the moon. Some fabulous English milor is
on record as having offered a fabulous price
for this wonder.

My guide and I parted at the foot
of the winding way without steps; and my
confusion was great as to whether I dared
offer to so distinguished a personage the
gratuity which trembled in my hand. I had
reason to rejoice that I overcame my foolish
shame when, on inquiring of the porter the
quality of my Virgil, I was told he was the
valet of the bishop.

The most antique part of the town of
Meaux is that part called the Cornillon, or
Marché: the market-place itself is said to
have remained unchanged since the fourteenth
century, and several half-timbered
houses round the great square retain their
ancient exteriors. No trace, however, is
found of the citadel whence Duguesclin and
the Count of Foix, besieged by the Parisians
and betrayed by the townspeople, made that
celebrated sortie so often described, and rode
down the Jacquérie, whose hosts fled before
two resolute knights, who thus delivered the
terrified ladies shut up in a tower, where they
awaited a terrible fate, which they expected
to share with the young dauphiness their
mistress. Few towns have been so often divided
against themselves as Meaux has been. Sometimes
the counts and their vassals, sometimes
the citizens and besieging Parisians, entrenched
themselves in the respective fortress belonging
to each side of the two rivers and the
Canal de l'Ourque. The Calvinists and Catholics
were continually defending themselves
against each other in the two separate
parts of the town, till both
strongholds were at length destroyed, and
all contentions, in arms at least, at an
end.

There was always great jealousy between
those who lived in the Cornillon and those of
the Castle side, and any infringement of
their rights was violently resented. The
memory of a disagreement between the
bailli of the town and the chapter of the
cathedral is preserved in the name of one of
the doors of the cathedral, which is called
Maugarni. Guillot Maugarni, it seems, was a
notorious malefactor, who, being taken, received
summary justice at the hands of the
bailli, Gace, of Meaux, who had him hanged
on the spot before the cathedral. Now, the
chapter had the right of punishing any
offender in their own jurisdiction, and
the members of that reverend body were
highty indignant at the liberty taken by the
the civil magistrate. Thereupon they went
to law, and carried on a suit for seven
years against Gace, who was at length,
condemned to forfeit five hundred livres,
to pay the law expenses, and moreover
was ordered to provide a wooden figure
having the semblance of a man, to place the
said figure in a car, and see it conducted to
the market-place, where the effigy was to be
hanged, then taken down and brought back
to the spot where the real execution had
taken place, and there the figure was to be
given into the hands of the chapter by the
bailli, bareheaded and asking pardon. To
all this ceremony the magistrate demurred,
and, resolving not so to compromise his
dignity, appealed to Charles the Wise, then
king, who endeavoured to compromise the
matter by ordering Gace to perform a part
of the drama enjoined. The latter contented
himself by taking his lay figure
and putting it down between the two doors
where he had hanged the culprit, leaving
it for the churchmen to do what they
pleased with it. The chapter was furious
at this unceremonious proceeding, and kept
up the quarrel stoutly; at last they were
satisfied with hanging up the effigy at
the church door, where Maugarni remained
for about two centuries, till he shared the