The Dauphine’s Answer To Philip of Austria.
Neither the examples you have quoted, nor those which are daily before my eyes, have power enough to pervert me, I have a veneration for virtue, which you, forsooth, call the quality of a coxcomb; and an abhorrence for all that bears the stamp of vice, tho’ you have illustrated it with the prosperous and glorious reign of the French monarch. But were the first unknown to me, I would not look for it in your life; since, according to your best friends, it is a thing you never practised. As sons have no authority to condemn the conduct of their fathers, so I will not presume to examine into that of Lewis XIV. But tell me, I beseech you, what advantages you reaped from your bigottry and superstition? For my part, had I some of the ashes of every saint, in the Roman Calendar, in my snuff-box, and carried beads as big as cannon-bullets about me, I should not believe myself either a better christian, or less exposed to danger. But to what purpose did you, who never exposed your royal person in battle, arm yourself with all those imaginary preservatives? Or can you say they defended you from being devoured alive by millions of vermine, that punished you in this life, for the iniquities you daily committed, and were only the prelude to more terrible punishment. Let not my indifference for the church of Rome break your rest; I have no power at present, and I can’t tell what my sentiments would be, had I a crown on my head: but it now cruelly troubles me, to see France so weakened by the dispersion of so many thousand innocent people: and did my opinion signify any more in our councils than wind, I would advise the recalling of them. But the nymph, you see, with so much satisfaction, supply the place of your grandchild, and who has more power now than ever, is there as absolute as a dictator. The French monarchy, which has subsisted for so many ages, might be still supported without her; she being good for nothing that I know of, but to instruct youth in the nicest ways of debauchery; therefore I could wish the king would transport her to her native soil, and make her governess of the American monkies; a fitter employment for her than that she usurps over our princesses. To deal plainly with you, I have no ambition to see your jesty, being satisfy’d with knowing you from publick report; so will carefully avoid coming near your torrid zone, if ’tis possible for a man to be any time a king of France, without it.
Juvenal to Boileau.
SINCE we don’t dispatch couriers every day from the kingdom of Pluto, you ought not to be surprized, that I have not had an opportunity till now, of telling you what sticks in my stomach. I thought your first satires very admirable, your expressions just and laboriously turn’d, yet charming and natural. Were the distribution of rewards in my power, I should certainly give you something for your Art of Poetry: but for your Lutrin, that master-piece of your wit, that highest effort of your imagination, I see nothing in it worthy of you, but the verification. Every one owns you can write, nay, your very enemies allow it; but you know a metamorphosis requires an entire change; therefore, since you resolve to imitate Virgil, you should have made choice of noble heroes. He that travestied the Æneis, understood it better than you, and did not fatigue himself so much; and as he was a man of clear and good sense, has judiciously remark’d, that his queen disguised like a country-wench, is infinitely beyond your clockmaker’s wife dress’d like an empress. But let us leave this subject, which now it is too late to amend, since what is done cannot be undone. What did you mean, you I say, who have been accused of stealing my lines, and who, to deal honestly with you, have often followed the same road I have traced? What did you mean, I say, by reflecting on particulars in your satire against women: Did I ever set you that example? Is not my sixth satire against the sex in general; and when I look back as far as the reigns of Saturn and Rhea for [27] modesty, do I pretend the least shadow of it is left upon the earth? Unthinking fool! those different characters you have drawn, will make you so many particular enemies; and I question, if the patroness you have chosen can secure you from their claws.
If an affected zeal inspires you with so much veneration for a saint of the Italian fashion, in truth you ought to have burnt your incense so privately, that the smoke might not have offended others. How can the bard that boasts of eating no flesh in Lent, that would frankly discipline himself in the face of the godly, like one of the [28] militia of St. Francis, adore a golden cow, and adorn an idol each blast of wind can overthrow, with those garlands which should be preserv’d for the statues of the greatest heroes! She is, it is true, very singular in her kind; but will you stain your name, of illustrious poet, by creeping before a walking mummy of her superannuated gallantry? your sordid interest has made you a traytor to Satire; and thereby you occasion here continual divisions, [29] Chaquelian and St. Amant have been at cuffs with [30] Moliere and Cornielle, because you have not treated them so civilly as your [31] Urgande. The two first ridicule your sordid covetous humour, and say you learnt that baseness while you belong’d to the Register’s Office. The other two, who were perhaps of your trade, defend the honour of your extraction. But St. Amant[32], who will never forget the unworthy character you have given him concerning his poverty, which he swears is false; and submitting his verses to the judgment of unprejudiced persons, for which you ridicule him, said in a haughty tone, (which set us all a laughing) that when he was a gentleman of the chamber in ordinary to the queen of Poland, and embassador extraordinary at the coronation of the queen of Sweden, he kept several footmen of better quality than yourself. Chaquelian, who cannot say so much for himself, is content with singing the terrible valour of the duke de Nevers’s lackeys, who kept time with their cudgels on your shoulders. We were forced to call for a bottle to appease this war; and St. Amant, taking the glass in his hand, swore by his maker, he had rather you had call’d him drunkard than fool, tho’ he drinks very moderately in this place, where it is no great scandal to be thirsty. Be not concerned at this paragraph, because the rest of my letter sufficiently testifies the esteem I have for you, and my concern for your welfare: therefore to preserve both, renounce your sordid way of praising vice, and employ your happy talent in teaching good manners, and correcting the bad, which will be an employment worthy of your great genius, and is the only way to recommend you to the good opinion of the learned ancients.
Boileau’s Answer to Juvenal.
Illustrious Ghost,
A Messenger from the Muses never fill’d me with so much transport, as the first sight of your letter; but I had not read six lines, before I wish’d you had never done me that honour. To praise my Satires and fall foul upon my Lutrin (which made me sweat more drops of water, than your drunkard St. Amant (since I must call him so) ever drank of wine) is no favour. After many laborious and fruitless endeavours, finding, to my great grief and distraction, I could not match you in wit, I resolv’d if possible to out-do you in malice, which made me take the liberty of romancing a little on St. Amant, falling foul upon people’s characters and manners, and treating several scurvy poets more roughly than you did the Theseis of Codrus, when you sang,
Semper ego auditor tantum nunquamne reponam?
Vexatus toties rauci Therseide Codri?
Thus suffering the gall of my heart to flow thro’ the channel of my pen, I procur’d myself enemies in abundance, and since I must confess all to you, some stripes with a bull’s-pizzle, which was a most terrible mortification to my shoulders; but I bore all this with the patience of a philosopher, as will appear by the following lines.