e causes of an absurdity which a little candid retrospection will do
more to dissipate than whole folios of philosophy. We can easily
understand a man who sighs that he was not born a thousand years hence
instead of twenty or thirty years ago, but that any one should encourage a
regret that his lot in life was not cast a few centuries back, seems
inexplicable on any rational grounds. The utter folly of praising the good
old times may be illustrated by a reference to the wretched condition of
most European cities; but we shall confine ourselves to the single case of
Paris, now one of the most beautiful capitals in the world.

In the thirteenth century the streets of Paris were not paved; they were
muddy and filthy to a very horrible degree, and swine constantly loitered
about and fed in them. At night there were no public lights, and
assassinations and robberies were far from infrequent. At the beginning of
the fourteenth century public lighting was begun on a limited scale; and
at best only a few tallow candles were put up in prominent situations. The
improvement, accordingly, did little good, and the numerous bands of
thieves had it still pretty much their own way. Severity of punishment
seldom compensates the want of precautionary measures. It was the general
custom at this period to cut off the ears of a condemned thief after the
term of his imprisonment had elapsed. This was done that offenders might
be readily recognized should they dare again to enter the city, banishment
from which was a part of the sentence of such as were destined to be
cropped. But they often found it easier to fabricate false ears than to
gain a livelihood away from the arena of their exploits; and this measure,
severe and cruel as it was, was found inefficient to rid the capital of
their presence.

Among the various adventures with thieves, detailed by an author
contemporaneous with Louis XIII., the following affords a rich example of
the organization of the domestic brigands of the time, and of the wretched
security which the capital afforded to its inhabitants:

A celebrated advocate named Polidamor had by his reputation for riches
aroused the covetousness of some chiefs of a band of brigands, who
flattered themselves that could they catch him they would obtain
possession of an important sum. They placed upon his track three bold
fellows, who, after many fruitless endeavors, encountered him one evening
accompanied only by a single lackey.