Scarron.
Hannibal to the Victorious Prince Eugene of Savoy. By Mr. Brown.
’TWAS with infinite satisfaction that I receiv’d the news of the happy success of your arms in Italy. My worthy friend Scipio, (for so I may justly call him, since we have dropp’d our old animosities, and now live amicably together) is eternally talking of your conduct and bravery; nay, Alexander the Great, who can hardly bear any competitor in the point of glory, has freely confessed, that your gallantry in passing the Po and Adige, in the face of so powerful an enemy, falls not short of what he himself formerly shew’d upon the banks of the Granicus. For my part, I have a thousand obligations to you. My march over the Alpes, upon which I may deservedly value myself, was look’d upon here to be fabulous, till your late expedition over those rugged mountains confirm’d the belief of it. Thus neither hills nor rivers can stop the progress of your victories, and ’tis you who have found out the lucky secret, how to baffle the circumspect gravity of the Spaniards, and repress the furious impetuosity of the French. His Gallic majesty, who minds keeping his word as little, as that mercenary republick of tradesmen whom it was my misfortune to serve, will find to his cost, that all the laurels he has been so long, a plundering, will at last fall to your excellency’s share; and that he has been labouring forty years together to no other purpose, than to enrich you with the spoils of his former triumphs. Go on, therefore, in the glorious track as you have begun, and be assured, that the good wishes of all the great and illustrious persons now resident in this lower world attend you in all your enterprizes. As nothing can be a greater pleasure to virtuous men, than to see villains rewarded according to their deserts; so true heroes never rejoice more than when they see a sham-conqueror, and vain glorious bully, such as Lewis XIV. plunder’d of all his unjust acquisitions, and reduced to his primitive state of nothing. Were there a free communication between our territories and yours, Cyrus, Miltiades, Cæsar, and a thousand other generals, would be proud to offer you their service the next campaign; but ’tis your happiness that you want not their assistance; your own personal bravery, join’d to that of your troops, and the justice of your cause, being sufficient to carry you thro’ all your undertakings.
Farewel.
Pindar of Thebes to Tom. Durfey. By Mr. Brown.
HOWEVER it happen’d so, I can’t tell, but I could never get a sight of thy famous Pindaric upon the late queen Mary, ’till about a month ago. Most of the company would needs have me declare open war against thee that very minute, for prophaning my name with such execrable doggrel. Stensichorus rail’d at thee worse than the man of the Horseshoe-Tavern in Drury-lane; Alcæus, I believe, will hardly be his own man again this fortnight, so much concerned he is to find thee crowding thy self upon the Lyric poets; nay, Sappho the patient, laid about her like a fury, and call’d thee a thousand pimping stuttering ballad-fingers. As for me, far from taking any thing amiss at my hands, I am mightily pleased with the honour thou hast done me, and besides, must own thou hast been the cheapest, kindest physician to me I ever met with; for whenever my circumstances sit uneasy upon me, (and for thy comfort Tom, we poets have our plagues in this world, as well as we had in your’s) when my landlord persecutes me for rent, my sempstress for my linnen, my taylor for cloaths, or my vintner for a long pagan score behind the bar, I immediately read but half a dozen lines of thy admirable ode, and sleep as heartily as the monks in Rabelais, after singing a verse or two of the seven penitential psalms. All I am afraid of, is, that when the virtues of it are known, some body or other will be perpetually borrowing it of me, either to help him to a nap, or cure him of the spleen, for I find ’tis an excellent specifick for both; therefore I must desire thee to order trusty Sam. to send me as many of them as have escap’d the Pastry-cook, and I will remit him his money by the next opportunity. If Augustus Cæsar thought a Roman gentleman’s pillow worth the buying, who slept soundly every night amidst all his debts, can a man blame me for bestowing a few transitory pence upon thy poem, which is the best opiate in the universe? In short, friend Tom, I love and admire thee for the freedom thou hast taken with me; and this I will say in commendation, that thou hast in this respect done more than even Alexander the Great durst do. That mighty conqueror, upon the taking of Thebes, spared all of my family; nay, the very house I lived in: but thou, who hast a genius superior to him, hast not spared me, even in what I value most, my verification and good name, for which Apollo in due time reward thee.
Farewel.
King James II. to Lewis XVI. By Mr. Boyer.
Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,
THO’ I have travers’d the vast abyss that lies betwixt us; and am now at some hundred millions of leagues distance from you, yet do I still remember the promise I made you before my departure, to send you an account of my journey hither. Know then, that all the stories you hear of the mansions of the dead, are flim-flams, invented by the crafty, to terrify and manage the weak. Here’s no such thing as Hell or Purgatory; no Lake of fire and brimstone; no cleven-footed devils; no land of darkness. This place is wonderfully well lighted by a never decaying effulgence, which flows from the Almighty; and the pleasures we dead enjoy, and the torments we endure, consist in a full and clear view of our past actions, whether good or bad; and in being in such or such company as is allotted us. For my part, I am continually tormented with the thoughts of having lost three goodly kingdoms by my infatuation and bigotry; and to aggravate my pain, I am quarter’d with my royal father Charles I. my honest well meaning brother Charles II. and the subtle Machiavel; the first reproaches me ever and anon, with my not having made better use of his dreadful examples; the second, with having despis’d his wholsome advices; and the third, with having misapply’d his maxims, thro’ the wrong suggestions of my father confessor. Oh! that I had as little religion as your self, or as S—— M——, R—— H——, and some others, of my ministers, and my predecessors; then might I have reign’d with honour, and in plenty over a nation, which is ever loyal and faithful to a prince who is tender of their laws and liberties; and peacefully resign’d my crown my lawfully begotten son; whereas thro’ the delusions of priest-craft, and the fond insinuations of a bigotted wife, I endeavoured to establish the superstitions of Popery, and the fatal maxims of a despotick, dispensing power, upon the ruins of the Protestant Religion, and of the fundamental laws of a free people, which at last concluded with my abdication and exile. I am sorry you have deviated from your wonted custom of breaking your word, and that you have punctually observ’d the promise you made me at my dying bed, of acknowledging my dear son as king of Great-Britain; for I fear my quondam subjects, who love to contradict you in every thing, will from thence take occasion to abjure him for ever; whereas had you disowned him, they would perhaps have acknowledged him in mere spite. Cardinal Richlieu, who visits me often, professes still a great deal of zeal and affection for your government, but is extremely concern’d at the wrong measures you take to arrive at universal monarchy. He has desir’d me to advise you to keep the old method he chalk’d out for you, which is, to trust more to your gold than to your arms. I cannot but think he is in the right on’t, considering the wonderful success the first has lately had with the archbishop of Cologn, and some other of the German and Italian princes, and the small progress your armies have made in the Milanese. But the wholesomeness of his advice is yet better justify’d by your dealings with the English, whom you know, you have always found more easily bribed than bullied. Therefore, as you tender the grandeur of your monarchy, and the interest of my dear son, instead of raising new forces, and fitting out fleets, be sure to send a cart-load of your new-coin’d Lewis d’ors into England, in order to divide the nation, and set the Whigs and Tories together by the ears. But take care you trust your money in the hands of a person that knows how to distribute it to more advantage than either count T——d or P——n, who, as I am told, have lavish’d away your favours all at once upon insatiable cormorants, and extravagant gamesters and spendthrifts. ’Tis true, by their assistance, and the unwearied diligence of my loyal Jacobites, you have made a shift to get the old ministry discarded, and to retard the grand alliance; but let me tell you, unless you see them afresh, they will certainly leave you in the lurch at the next sessions; for ingratitude and corruption do always go together. Therefore to keep these mercenary rogues to their behaviour, and in perpetual dependance, you must feed them with small portions, as weekly, or monthly allowance. Above all, bid your agents take heed how they deal with a certain indefatigable writer, who, as long as your gold has lasted, has been very useful to our cause, and boldly defeated the dangerous counsels of the Whigs, your implacable enemies; but who, upon the first withdrawing of your bounty, will infallibly turn cat in pan, and write for the house of Austria.