PIERRE MOTTEUX
Extract from a Letter to the Spectator (1712)
Sir,—Since so many dealers turn authors, and write quaint advertisements in praise of their wares, one who from an author turn'd dealer may be allowed for the advancement of trade to turn author again. I will not however set up like some of 'em, for selling cheaper than the most able honest tradesman can; nor do I send this to be better known for choice and cheapness of China and Japan wares, tea, fans, muslins, pictures, arrack, and other Indian goods. Placed as I am in Leadenhall-street, near the India-Company, and the centre of that trade, thanks to my fair customers, my warehouse is graced as well as the benefit days of my Plays and Operas; and the foreign goods I sell seem no less acceptable than the foreign books I translated, Rabelais and Don Quixote. This the critics allow me, and while they like my wares, they may dispraise my writing. But as 'tis not so well known yet that I frequently cross the seas of late, and speaking Dutch and French, besides other languages, I have the conveniency of buying and importing rich brocades, Dutch atlasses, with gold and silver, or without, and other foreign silks of the newest modes and best fabricks, fine Flanders lace, linnens, and pictures, at the best hand. This my new way of trade I have fallen into I cannot better publish than by an application to you. My wares are fit only for such as your traders; and I would beg of you to print this address in your paper, that those whose minds you adorn may take the ornaments for their persons and houses from me....[105]
A Song
Lovely charmer, dearest creature,
Kind invader of my heart,
Grac'd with every gift of nature,
Rais'd with every grace of art!
Oh! cou'd I but make thee love me,
As thy charms my heart have mov'd,
None cou'd e'er be blest above me,
None cou'd e'er be more belov'd.
(The Island Princess or the Generous Portuguese, 1734.)
To the Audience
... So will the curse of scribling on you fall;
Egad, these times make poets of us all.
Then do not damn your brothers of the quill;
To be reveng'd, there's hope you'll write as ill.
For ne'er were seen more scribes, yet less good writing,
And there ne'er were more soldiers, yet less fighting.
Both can do nothing if they want supplies,
Then aid us, and our league its neighbouring foes defies;
Tho' they brib'd lately one of our allies.
Sure you'd not have us, for want of due pittance,
Like nincompoops sneak to them for admittance,
No; propt by you, our fears and dangers cease,
Here firm, tho' wealth decay, and foes increase,
We'll bravely tug for liberty and peace.
(The Loves of Mars and Venus, Epilogue, 1735.)
[Pierre Antoine Motteux, born at Rouen in 1660, came over to England in 1685, wrote plays and poems, translated Bayle and Montaigne, and established himself as a trader in Leadenhall street.]