Claude Du Vall was born Anno 1643. at Domfront in Normandy, a place very Famous for the Ex­cellency and Healthfulness of the Air, and for the Production of Mercurial Wits: at the time of his Birth (as we have since found by Rectification of his Nativity by Accidents) there was a Conjunction of Venus and Mercu­ry, certain Presages of very good Fortune, but of a short Continuance. His Father was Pierre Du Vall a Miller, his Mother Marguerite de la Roche a Tailors Daughter. I hear no hurt of his Parents, they lived in as much Repu­tation and Honesty, as their Conditions and Occupations would permit.

There are some that confidently averr he was born in Smock-Ally without Bishopsgate; that his Father was a Cook, and sold boil'd Beef and Pottage: But this report is as false as it is defamatory and malicious; and 'tis easie [Page 2] to disprove it several ways: I will only urge one De­monstrative Argument against it. If he had been born there he had been no Frenchman, but if he had not been a Frenchman, 'tis absolutely impossible he should have been so much beloved in his Life, and lamented at his Death by the English Ladies.

His Father and Mother had not been long married, when Marguerite long'd for Pudding and Mince Pie, which the good Man was fain to beg for her at an English Merchants in Rouen: which was a certain sign of his in­clination to England. They were very merry at his Christ­ning, and his Father without any grumbling paid also then the Fees for his Burial▪ which is an extraordinary Custom at Domfront, not exercis'd any where else in all France, and of which I count my self obliged to give the Reader a particular Account.

In the days of Charles the ninth of that name, the Cu­rate of Domfront (for so the French name him whom we call Parson and Vicar) out of his own head began a strange Innovation and Oppression in that Parish; that is, he absolutely denied to baptize any of their Chil­dren, if they would not at the same time pay him also the Funeral Fees; and, what was worse, he would give them no reason for this alteration, but only promised to enter Bond for himself and his Successors, that hereafter all persons paying so at their Christning, should be buri­ed gratis: What think ye the poor people did in this case? they did not pull his Surplice over his Ears, nor tear his Mass-Book, nor throw Crickets at his head; no, they hum­bly desired him to alter his Resolution, and amicably rea­soned it with him; but he being a capricious fellow gave them no other answer, but, What I have done, I have done: take your Remedy where you can find it, 'tis not for men of [Page 3] my Coat to give an Account of my Actions to the Laity. Which was a surly and quarrelsome Answer, and unbe­fitting a Priest. Yet this did not provoke his Parishioners to speak one ill word against his Person or Function, or to do any illegal Act. They only took the regular way of complaining of him to his Ordinary, the Archbishop of Rouen. Upon Summons he appears, the Archbishop takes him up roundly, tells him he deserves deprivation, if that can be proved which is objected against him, and asks him, What he has to say for himself? After his due reverence, he answers, that he acknowledges the Fact, to save the time of examining Witnesses, but de­sires his Grace to hear his Reasons, and then do unto him as he shall see cause. I have been, saies he, Curate of this Parish these seven years, in that time I have one year with another baptized a hundred Children, and bu­ried not one. At first I rejoyced at my good Fortune to be placed in so good an air: But looking into the Re­gister Book I found for a hundred years back near the same Number yearly baptiz'd, and not one above five year old buried. And, which did more amaze me, I find the number of the Communicants to be no greater now than they were then: this seem'd to me a great mystery, but upon further inquiry I found out the true cause of it, for all that are born at Domfront were hanged at Rouen. I did this to keep my Parishioners from hanging, incou­raging them to die at home, the burial duties being al­ready paid.

The Archbishop demanded of the Parishioners, Whe­ther this was true or not? they answered, that too many of them came to that unlucky end at Rouen. Well then, said he, I approve of what the Curate has done, and will cause my Secretary in perpetuam Rei Memoriam to make an Act of [Page 4] it; which Act the Curate carried home with him, and the Parish cheerfully submitted to it, and have found much good by it; for within less than twenty years there died fifteen of natural Deaths, and now there die three or four yearly.

But to return to Du Vall, 'twill not I hope be expected that I should in a true History, play the Romancer, and describe all his Actions from his Cradle to his Saddle, tel­ling what childish Sports he was best at, and who were his play-fellows; that were enough to make the Truth of the whole Narration suspected, only one important Accident I ought not to omit.

An old Frier, counted very expert in Physiognomy and Judicial Astrology, came on a time to see Pierre du Vall and his Wife, who had then by extraordinary good Fortune some Norman Wine, that is, Cider in their house, of which they were very liberal to this old Frier, whom they made heartily welcome, thinking nothing too good for him.

For those silly people, who know no better, count it a great honour and favour, when any Religious Per­son, as a Priest or Frier are pleas'd to give them a visit, and to eat and drink with them. As these three were sitting by the fire, and chirping over their Cups, in comes Claude, and broke the Friers Draught, who fix'd his eyes attentively upon him, witout speaking one word for the space of half an hour, to the amazement of Claude's Parents, who seeing the Frier neither speak nor drink, imagined he was sick, and courteously askt him, Brother, what ails you? are you not well? why do you so look upon our Son? The Frier having rous'd himself out of his Ecstasie, Is that Stripling, saies he, your Son? to which after they had replied, Yes: Come hither Boy, quoth [Page 5] he, and looking upon his head, he perceived he had two: Crowns, a certain sign that he should be a Traveller II This Child, saies he, will be a Traveller, and he sha­never during his life, be long without money; and where­ever he goes, he will be in extraordinary favour with Women of the highest Condition. Now from this Story, the certainty of Physiognomy and Judicial Astrology is evidently proved, so that from henceforward, whoever shall presume to deny it, ought not to be esteemed a person in his right Wits.

Pierre and Marguerite look'd upon the Frier as an Ora­cle, and mightily rejoyced at their Sons Fortune; but it could not enter into their imagination, how this should come to pass, having nothing to leave him as a Foundation to build so great a Structure upon.

The Boy grew up, and spoke the Language of the Country fluently, which is, Lawyers French; and which (if I should not offend the Ladies in comparing our Lan­guage with theirs) is as much inferiour to that at Paris, as Devonshire or Somersetshire English to that spoken at white-hall.

I speak not this to disgrace him, for could he have spoke never so good French, it is not in such high esteem there as it is here; and it very rarely happens that, upon that account alone, any great mans Daughter runs away with a Lacquey.

When he was about thirteen or fourteen years old, his Friends muster'd their forces together to set him up in the World, they bought him shoos and stockins, 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 [Page 6] old shoo after him, and bid him go seek his fortune: This throwing of an old shoo after him was looked upon as a great piece of Prodigality in Normandy, where they are so considerable a Merchandize; the Citizens Wives of the best Quality wearing old shoos chalked; whence, I suppose, our Custom of wearing white shoos 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 proffer'd 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 Governours going to Paris, to learn their Exercises to fit them to go a woing at their return home, who were infinitely ambitious of his Company, not doubting but in those two daies travels, they should pump many considerable 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 indear'd himself to them) he was admitted to run on errants, and do the meanest Offices at the St. Esprit in the Rue de Boucherie: A house in those daies betwixt a Tavern, and an Ale-house, a Cooks-shop and a Bawdy-house; and, upon some of those accounts much frequented by the English his Patrons. In this condition he lived [Page 7] unblamably 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 Restauration of his Majesty, which was in 1660. brought multitudes of all Nations into England, to be spectators of our Iubilee; but more particularly it drein'd Paris of all the English there, as being most concern'd 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 'tis not of the French growth, but Northern and ungenteele, I mean, that of drinking; for that very night he was surpriz'd, he was overtaken.

By these Courses (for I dare not call them Vices▪) he soon fell into want of Money to maintain his Port; 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 practiz'd before by Hind and Hannum, and several other meer 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 conceal it.

[Page 8]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 serving Maid, who perceiving five Horsemen making up to them, presently imagin'd 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 af­fraid, 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, sayes he, to the person in the Coach, your Lady playes 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 Corant 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 Mine; 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 Danc'd, 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, sayes 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, puls 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 [Page 9] other Three Hundred Pounds; and giving him the word, that, if he met with any more of the Crew, he might pass undisturb'd, he civilly takes his leave of him.

This Story, I confess, justifies the great kindness the Ladies had for Du Vall; for in this, as in an Epitome, are contain'd all things that set off a man 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 Gentlewoman, a Lacquey, a Groom that rid by to open the Gates, and the Coach-man, they being Six to Five, odds at Foot ball; and besides Du Vall had much the worse cause, and reason to believe, that whoever should arrive, would range themselves on the Enemies party. Then he shewed his Invention and Sagacity that he could sur le Champ, and without studying, make that advantage of the Ladies playing on the Flageoler. He evidenced 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 Corant 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 Pound; his Generosity in taking no more, his Wit and Eloquence, and readiness at Reparties, 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 Bosomes, and not put my self out of a [Page 10] 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 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 Childs Sucking-Bottle: Nor would, upon the Childs tears, nor the Ladies 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 incounter 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 seise 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 [Page 11] 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 don't 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 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 Baily, 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 Marks-man he was, and his excellent way of Fencing, that had he been Sober 'twas impossible he could have kill'd 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 Bayly 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 expense of blood or Trea­sure, committed to Newgate, Arraigned, Convicted, Condemned, and on Friday Ian. 21. Executed at Tiburn in the 27th. year of his Age, (which number is [Page 12] 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 Vizours for fear of shew­ing their Eyes swoln, and their Cheeks blubber'd 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 alter'd my fierce Resolution, partly, because I would not do my Nation so great a Disgrace, and especially that part of it, to which I am so intirely devoted. But principally because I hoped milder Physick might cure them of this French Disease, of this inordinate Appetite to Mushromes, of this degenerous Doting upon Stran­gers.

After he had hang'd a convenient time, he was cut down, and by Persons well dress'd, 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 cover'd with Scutcheons, eight Wax-Tapers burning, 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 [Page 13] he should incurr the displeasure of the Ladies) sent to disturb this Pageantry. But I dare set down a mark, whereby you may guess at him; 'Tis one betwixt whom and the Highway-men there's little love lost, one who thought the Filou lay in State enough in not being buried under the Gallows.

This story of lying in State seem'd to me so improba­ble, and such an audacious mocquerie 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 Lyer.

The night was stormy and rainy, as if the Heavens had sympathiz'd 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 (though I have with much cost and industry procured) I do freely make it publick, because I would not have any thing wanting in this Narration.