Sir John Norris Commander in Chief of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth’s Land-Forces against the Spaniard, to Sir Henry Bellasis and Sir Charles Hara.
Gentlemen,
WE had no sooner intelligence of your designs, but we gave the Spaniards over for lost: the path has been so gallantly beaten to your hands, and your enemies hardly recruited their former losses in our glorious times, if they cou’d have forgot from whose hands they sustain’d ’em. If I may remind you without vanity, as I do it without a lie, I took the lower town of the Groyn, I plunder’d all the villages round about it, and by the gallantry of the English cut the Spaniards to pieces for three miles together. But these were profess’d enemies that had attempted upon our state, and by their formidable preparations, threatned no less than our entire ruin. However, in all the licentiousness of a conquering sword, we ravish’d no nuns; and it had been justifiable if we had done it. We took the city of St. Joseph, and tho’ there was not found one single piece of coin’d money in it (which is a very exasperating disappointment to soldiers you know) yet we forc’d no nunneries. Had you two, gentlemen, been there, I presume you wou’d have eaten the children alive for mere madness and vexation, after you had gratify’d your more unpardonable brutish lusts upon the monasteries. Distressed damsels were heretofore the general cause for which the heroes drew their swords: as their sex made them the objects of our desires, so when their weakness was forc’d upon, they became doubly the subjects of our quarrels, and by so just a claim, that nothing but the very reproach of mankind refus’d it ’em. Your case, as I take it (gentlemen) is far different from that, where positive orders give licence; nay, an insurrection itself, and to lay all waste before you; to ransack the churches, and ravish the women, to burn the houses, and brain the sucking children; these are political rigors, that by a present shedding of blood, saves the lives of many thousands afterwards: this putting all to the sword, intimidates small towns for making feeble efforts for an impossible defence; which by losing some time, and some few men’s lives only, enrages the conquerer at last, to use the same severity with them too, to punish their obstinacy. These are bloody maxims of war, but necessary sometimes, therefore lawful. But you (gentlemen) had not the least shadow of pretence for your lust or your avarice: if these are the insolent effects of your friendship, I fear no body will admit of your alliances, much less court them. Friendship betray’d, is the blackest crime that is, and what so far degrades a gentleman from the character of honour, that miracles of bravery in sieges afterwards wou’d never wear out the blot: but as if you had resolved to make yourselves odious, by making the fact more infamous, they must be nuns too, forsooth, that must be constrained to your libidinous authority. Your sacrilegious covetousness might have met with a shadow of excuse, if your intemperance had proceeded no farther: and indeed they must have a great deal of wit as well as goodness, that can invent any thing like a reason to mitigate the abomination of it. You, old commanders, you, old covetous lechers, the bane of an army, the reproach of the best general, and of the most glorious princess. What laurels have your lust and rapines torn from O——’s brows? What honours from your English arms? And what vast advantages from your own sovereign? Had not your impious carriage made implacable enemies of those that were not quite resolved to continue long so at all, this summer had rais’d your princess to that pinnacle of renown and grandeur, that none ever surpass’d, and but few ever came up to besides our illustrious queen, of whom no man can say too much; therefore of you, gentlemen, none can say too ill. A design so deeply laid, so cautiously manag’d, so long conceal’d, so wisely concerted, cou’d not possibly miss of a happy event, if your impious indignities had not constrained heaven to blast the undertaking, to shew it was just; thus the army perished for David’s having numbred the people: you went to free ’em from a foreign dominion, to settle the right of government in the right person, to prevent innovations, and relieve the oppress’d; in a word, to do justice to every subject. Oh, the plausible pretext! the noble reasons for so chargeable an expedition! yet no sooner has the justice of the cause in general crown’d your attempts with success, but your particular outrages pull down vengeance, and raise yourselves enemies even out of the dust; the consciousness of your wickedness blunts the edge of your swords, and adds new life and vigour to those whom your courage and generosity had almost vanquish’d before. Sir Walter Rawleigh, my worthy companion of arms, refused two millions of ducats, and burnt the merchants ships at Port Royal, because that was his errand, and he was as just as he was brave. Had you two but commanded there (gentlemen) the Spanish merchants had not need have made so large an offer: half the money and ten young nuns a-piece, and you had betray’d your country. However, we question not but in a little time, or by the next packet at least, to hear that justice is executed upon you both to absolve the nation, and atone for so abominable and unpardonable, so nefarious and ungentlemen-like an action. You will find a place on the other side of our river, that will cool your courage, by way of antiperistasis, with wond’rous heat.
Don Alphonso Perez de Gusman, Duke of Medina Sidonia, Admiral of the invincible Armada, to Monsieur Chateau-renault, at Rodondello.
WHY this mighty concern for what cannot be avoided? Why this chagrin? Why this mal au cœur? You might have fancied yourself invincible, you might have got a sanctified pass from his holiness, it would still have had the same catastrophe. The English are hereticks, man, they value none of these evangelical charms of a rush; their bullets have no consideration in the world for a relique, nor their small-shot for a chaplet. Besides, they are so well acquainted with our seas, their own channel is hardly more familiar to them. This is but the old grudge of 88, when queen Elizabeth thump’d us so about: considering all things, I think you are come off very well. What signifies a few paultry hulks? The plate we are sure you had prudently carried over the mountains in 1500 carts at least, an undertaking as little dream’d of, and as much surprizing, as prince Eugene’s passing the Alps; but with this plaguy unlucky disadvantage, that it may not be quite so true. Now and then in my more reserved speculations, I stumbled upon that same Drake, that burn’d about 100 of our ships at Cadiz; upon my honour I can’t forgive him, and yet can’t blame him neither. But those two galeons that were so richly laden, stick in my stomach most confoundedly. No wonder our affairs prosper no better, for those same hereticks have taken away several of our saints; that same Drake I mentioned just now, he run away with St. Philip. Besides this, these English water-dogs swam after us into Cadiz, and went to Pointal, and there firk’d us so about the pig-market, that we were even glad to save our bacon, and fire some of our ships, and run the others on ground; there too, after burning the admiral, these unsanctifyed ranters stole away, not sneakingly, but with an open hand, and main force, two most glorious saints more, St. Matthew and St. Andrew. There was another too of those English bully-rocks, Sir Walter Rawleigh, with a pox to him, he serv’d us a slippery trick indeed, for he took away the mother of God, and God knows she was worth one hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling, not reckoning the other smaller craft that went with him only to bear her company. There is something in our destinies that gives them an ascendant over us; and a brave man scorns to buckle to fortune. You may live to be beaten again as I was, and poor Alphonso de Leva, nay, honest Recalde, he was cursedly maul’d too with his rear squadron; and to add to my misfortunes, I was a little while after drubb’d again by them, I thought they never would have done dancing round me for my part: but what consummated my disgrace, and still leaves the deepest impression on my spirits, is the burning my fleet at Calais; there I must own it sincerely to you, I was somewhat astonished: I thought Vesuvius had been floating upon the water, or mount Ætna had out of kindness come to light me thro’ the north passage home: but this was a hellish invention of those Englishmen to set my ships on fire, and destroy us all.
Now this similitude of our destinies having endeared you to me, I thought my comparing our notes together might mitigate part of your affliction. Nay, thus far we are again alike in the frowns of insulting fortune, that they will make new medals with the old inscription, dux fœmina facti. Indeed you must give me leave, Sir, to be a little free with you, that is, to tell you for ought I know, providence may have ordered it so, to shew that the wisdom of man is really but a chimera, and as Spain, when in the highest exaltation of its glory, with a vast fleet that was three years equipping, and consisted of no less than 130 sail of ships, enough to have forc’d her way thro’ the universe; yet with all this preparation, a single woman, embroil’d in her state at home, not only made head against us, but even quite destroy’d us; insomuch, that the kingdom of Spain was never fully able to recover the vast expence of this fleet, and the continued losses that attended its being beaten: in like manner, Sir, what know we but that the kingdom of France, being now even at the summit of glory, and by the accession of the Spanish interest, so entirely at his own devotion, may not see all his laurels torn from his brows by a queen, and to the dishonour of the Salic law, make the greatest of all its monarchs truckle to a woman, whom they thought incapable of reigning. I don’t say this will be certainly so, but examining all occurrences hitherto, it looks but scurvily upon the Spanish and French side. For France was never so many times, and so considerably defeated since he sat upon the throne, and that too both by sea and land. Indeed the English in these parts grow very pragmatical upon it, and at every turn call for a son of a whore of a Spaniard to make snuff of. Cardinal Granvil, that was the ablest head-piece of his time, avers it so positively, that I dare not aim at a contradiction; and his opinion is, That the English, who are naturally good when they are yielded to, and only obstinate and angry when they are oppos’d, will ever be happily governed by a queen; and he assigns this for a reason, that the monarchy of England having a great alloy of a republick, they are more jealous of their warlike princes than of their weak ones, and least they should happen to give a daring prince an unhappy opportunity of treading upon their necks, if they should stoop any thing low, they will always in parliament keep him at some distance; but as a woman cannot pretend to guide the reins of empire by a strong hand, they must do it by a wise head; therefore not trusting so much to her own judgment, as hot-headed man does, she does nothing without the advice of her council; and that is a small parliament, as a parliament is a grand national council, and this method of government suits best with the English temper: from whence I conclude, that England never was in so fair a prospect of doing herself justice, and asserting her rights, since that miracle of a woman queen Elizabeth, as it is at this juncture. For so glorious and triumphant beginnings open all her subjects hearts, and their coffers with them, which cannot tend but to our ruin and shame. Make haste hither, and get out of the confusion that you cannot long defer.
Marcellinus to Mons. Boileau.
NAY, this is beyond the possibility of patience! and tho’ there is much due to the character of princes, yet there is more to ourselves and truth; and I cannot without the highest injustice and ingratitude possible, but remind you of some of the actions of your idol monarch, which with so much reason dispute with each other, which was the most enormous and tyrannical. I only endeavour’d to make Julian the apostate, pass upon posterity for a hero, and you call me an insolent brazen-fac’d rascally flatterer. If I exceeded the exactness of an historian, it was because in that treatise I set up for a courtier, and sincerity in such people is of the most dangerous consequence imaginable. If the emperor Julian had been the first monster in nature, that met with a willing pen to set his actions in a less inglorious light than others expected, and naked truth required; yet I am sure he is not the greatest. Your master has trac’d all the footsteps of his cruelty and policy; for if he manag’d matters so swimmingly between the catholicks and Arrians, that he secur’d himself by their divisions, Loüis has all along done the same: if he countenanced the Jews, Loüis supported the Turks, if he destroyed the christians, Loüis had done it in a much more barbarous and perfidious manner. If he threw down the images of Christ at Cæsarea Philippi, Loüis has acted the same in the front of the jesuits[55] Church: now since you have dar’d to consecrate the reputation of your king, why so many bitter invectives against me a petty Pagan, for speaking in favour of my master? you modern wits, that value your selves so much upon the having refin’d our dross, have sunk as scandalously low in matters of flattery as any of us. We are continually pestered here with disputes; and every court rings with the different claims. The popes send legates hither for their saints, Pluto won’t let one of them go, because they are damned. Others will have it that their time is fulfilled in Purgatory, therefore would be discharged: but the Devil knows better things, Father Garnet too, that execrable engine of the Powder-Plot storms and raves, but the horned gentlemen with cloven feet laugh at him, and his canonization. Where was there ever so much innocent christian blood shed as on Bartholomew’s day at Paris? and yet even that unparalleled murder has been justified a thousand times by your church; as if the accurateness of a man’s pen could make that pass for a virtue which will be an everlasting and detestable blot. Pelisson is a man of prodigious parts, Boileau the smoothest pen and noblest genius of his time, because their prince is alive, and equally generous to reward their flattery, as greedy to have it: but poor I, because I have been dead one thousand four hundred years, and better, I am an idle rascally fellow. But even at this distance I am no stranger to the transactions of Versailles; and since you have spit out so much of your blackest venom against me and my hero, I shall take the freedom to call to mind some of those very remarkable particulars which give so glorious a lustre, as you call it, to your viro immortali. His life has been one continued series of rapines and murders, perjuries and desolations. For tho’ the first disorders in Hungary, were in some measure owing to the injustices count Teckeley received from the ministers of the empire, yet it is undeniably true, that France fomented the war, and sollicited the Turk to espouse Teckeley’s quarrels, and promised to assist him himself. The negotiations of the French ambassadors at the Port, the vast sums of money remitted to Teckeley, and the endeavours to disengage the king of Poland and the duke of Bavaria from the interest of the empire; these things, Mons. Boileau, were not managed with so much secrecy, but the more essential particulars are come to many peoples knowledge. His other underhand dealings with several princes and cities of Germany, shewed his formidable army in Alsatia was not to succour the empire, but to seize on it. But the raising the siege at Vienna broke all their measures at Versailles, and the king of France, confounded at his disappointment, vented his rage upon his own subjects, and that part of them too that set the crown upon his head, when the most considerable of the Roman Catholicks abandon’d his interest. The ravage he committed in the territories of the three ecclesiastical electors, and in the Palatinate at the same time, shewed him rather the scourge of mankind, than the eldest son of the church.
’Tis true, there never was any prince but had his flatterers: but you French have been guilty of the grossest to the present king of France, that ever were recorded. My Julian would have blush’d, or rather trembled, at such blasphemous adulation. Loüis has been adored for his mercy, and yet exceeded our Nero in barbarity and bloodshed. Fire and sword were mild executioners of his cruelty; for his impetuous lust of mischief has been so fruitful in inventing torments, that he has made all those forms of death desirable to his subjects that were the reproach of tyrants: his ingenious malice has contrived exquisite pain, without destroying the persons that suffer it; and if he could compel man to be immortal, he would vie miseries with hell itself. He scorns all the humble paths of Domitian’s perfidiousness: such puny perjuries are too mean for Loüis le Grand: And since he could not possibly make them greater in their nature, he aggravated them by their number. The peace of the Pyreneans, that of Aix la Chapelle, that of Nimeguen, the truce for twenty years, the edict of Nants, the treaty at Reswick, are sufficient arguments, that he only promised that he might not perform; and vow’d to observe treaties that he might have the lechery of breaking them afterwards with a more execrable guilt. Your servile flattery stiles him the restorer and preserver of the peace of Christendom, yet he arm’d the Crescent against the Cross, and carried desolation through every corner of Europe. There is no prince but he has invaded, no neighbour that he has not oppress’d, no law that he has not violated, no religion that he has not trampled on, and shewed the successors of St. Peter, that he had one sword sharper than both theirs. His panegyrists have refined the impious wit of Commodus’s sycophants; and lest books should not transmit their blasphemies low enough to posterity, they have raised superb monuments of his arrogancy and their own shame. What statues, what pictures of him at Versailles, Fountainbleau, Marly, the Louvre, the Invalides, Paris gates, the Palace Royal, &c. Where have I, Mons. Boileau, arm’d my Julian with a [56] thunderbolt? have I any thing equal to your viro immortali, to your divo Ludivico? Why then am I such an infamous flatterer, such a sneaking cringing rascal? I have nothing comparable to your fustian bombast, nor to the hyperboles of Pelisson, nor the impertinent titles of every Frenchman that sets pen to paper. I leave the world to judge, if my hero has not a juster claim to all the eulogies I have given him, ten thousand times preferable to Loüis le Grand, and yet you have said ten thousand times more of him.