PART I.

THE

SECOND VOLUME

OF THE

WORKS

OF

Mr. _Thomas Brown_.

Containing

LETTERS

FROM THE

DEAD to the LIVING,

And from the

LIVING to the DEAD.

Together with

_Dialogues of the DEAD_,

After the Manner of LUCIAN.

The Seventh Edition carefully Corrected.

_LONDON_:

Printed by and for _Edward Midwinter_, at the

_Looking-Glass_ on _London-Bridge_. 1730.

THE

WORKS

OF

Mr. _Thomas Brown_.

VOLUME the Second.

[Illustration]

_LONDON_: Printed in the Year, 1727.

[Illustration]

The CONTENTS

Of the Second Volume.

A _Letter of News from

Mr._ Joseph Haines,

_of Merry Memory, to his

Friends at_ Will’s Coffee-House

_in_ Covent-Garden Page 1

_The Answer_ 18

Scarron _to_ Lewis XIV. 21

Hannibal _to P._ Eugene 33

Pindar _to_ Tom Durfey 34

James II. _to_ Lewis XIV. 35

_The Answer_ 38

Julian _to_ Will. Pierre 41

_The Answer_ 44

Antiochus _to_ Lewis XIV. 48

_The Answer_ 50

Catherine de Medicis _to the

Duchess of_ Orleans 52

_The Answer_ 54

_Cardinal_ Mazarine _to the

Marquis_ de Barbisieux 55

_The Answer_ 57

Mary I. _to the Pope_ 58

_The Answer_ 60

Harlequin _to_ le Chaise 61

_The Answer_ 63

_Duke of_ Alva _to the Clergy

of_ France 64

_The Answer_ 66

Philip _of_ Austria _to the_ Dauphin 67

_The Answer_ 69

Juvenal _to_ Boileau 70

_The Answer_ 72

Diana _of_ Poictiers _to Madam_

Maintenon 74

_The Answer_ 76

Hugh Spencer _junr. to all

Favourites, &c._ 77

_The Answer_ 79

Julia _to the Princess of_

Conti 80

_The Answer_ 83

Dionysius _junr. to all Favourites,

&c._ 85

_The Answer_ 87

Christiana _Queen of_ Sweden,

_to the Ladies_ 88

_The Answer_ 91

Dr. Francis Rabelais _to the

Physicians_ 93

_The Answer_ 96

_Duchess of_ Fontagne _to the_

Cumean _Sybil_ 97

_The Answer_ 99

_The Mitred Hog_ 101

_Beau_ Norton _to the Beaux_ 118

Perkin Warbeck _to the pretended

Prince of Wales_ 123

Dryden _to the Lord_ -- 124

Cowley _to the_ Covent Garden

_Society_ 125

Charon _to_ Jack Catch 126

_Sir_ Bartholomew Shower _to

Serjeant S--_ 127

Jo. Haines’_s_ 2d _Letter_ 132

_Sir_ Fleetwood Shepherd _to

Mr._ Prior 153

_The Answer_ 156

Pomigny _of_ Auvergne _to

Mr._ Abel _the singing

Master_ 157

_The Answer_ 160

_Signor_ Nichola _to Mr._ Buckly

_at the Swan Coffee-House

in_ Bloomsbury 162

Ignatius Loyola _to the Archbishop

of_ Toledo 163

_Alderman_ Floyer _to Sir_

Humphry Edwin 165

_Sir_ John Norris, _Q._ Elizabeth’s

_General, to Sir_

Henry Bellasis _and Sir_

Charles Hara 167

_Duke of_ Medina Sidonia _to

Mons._ Chateau Renault 170

Marcellinus _to Mons._ Boileau 172

Cornelius Gallus _to the Lady_

Dilliana 176

_Bully_ Dawson _to Bully_ Watson 179

_The Answer_ 192

Nell Gwinn _to_ Peg Hughes 201

_The Answer_ 202

Hugh Peters _to_ Daniel Burgess 204

_The Answer_ 211

Ludlow _to the Calves-Head

Club_ 214

_The Answer_ 216

Naylor _to the_ Quakers 219

_The Answer_ 223

Lilly _to_ Cooley 226

_The Answer_ 230

Tony Lee _to_ Cave Underhill 233

_The Answer_ 236

_Alderman_ Blackwell _to Sir_

C. Duncombe 237

_The Answer_ 241

Henry Purcell _to Dr._ Blow 245

_The Answer_ 247

_Mrs._ Behn _to the Virgin

Actress_ 250

_The Answer_ 254

_Madam_ Creswell _to_ Moll

Quarles 257

_The Answer_ 262

Jo. Haines’s _third Letter_ 267

Certamen Epistolare _between

an Attorney of_ Clifford’s-Inn

_and a dead Parson

from_ Page 290 _to_ Page 305

_Dialogues of the Dead from_ Page 306 to the end.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

LETTERS

FROM THE

DEAD to the LIVING.

PART I.

_A_ Letter _of News from Mr._ JOSEPH HAINES, _of Merry Memory, to

his Friends at_ Will_’s Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden. _By Mr._

THO. BROWN.

_Gentlemen_,

I Had done myself the honour to write to you long ago, but wanted a

convenience of sending my letter; for you must not imagine ’tis as easy

a matter for us on this side the river _Styx_, to maintain a

correspondence with you in the upper world, as ’tis to send a pacquet

from _London_ to _Rotterdam_, or from _Paris_ to _Madrid_: But upon the

news of a fresh war ready to break out in your part of the world,

(which, by the by, makes us keep holy-day here in hell) _Pluto_ having

thought fit to dispatch an extraordinary messenger to see how your

parliament, upon whose resolutions the fate of _Europe_ seems wholly to

depend, will behave themselves in this critical conjuncture. I tipp’d

the fellow a George to carry this letter for me, and leave it with the

master at _Will_’s in his way to _Westminster_.

I am not insensible, gentlemen, that _Homer_, _Virgil_, _Dante_, Don

_Quevedo_, and many more before me, have given an account of these

subterranean dominions, for which reason it may look like affectation or

vanity in me to meddle with a subject so often handled; but if new

travels into _Italy_, _Spain_ and _Germany_, are daily read with

approbation, because new matters of enquiry and observation perpetually

arise, I don’t see why the present state of the _Plutonian_ kingdoms may

not be acceptable, there having been as great changes and alterations in

these infernal regions, as in any other part of the universe whatever.

When I shook hands with your upper hemisphere, I stumbled into a dark,

uncouth, dismal lane, which, if it be lawful to compare great things

with small, somewhat resembles that dusky dark cut under the mountains

called the _grotto_ of _Puzzoli_ in the way to _Naples_. I was in so

great a consternation, that I don’t remember exactly how long it was,

but this I remember full well, that there were a world of ditches on

both sides of the wall, adorned and furnished with harpies, gorgons,

centaurs, chimeras, and such like pretty curiosities, which could not

but give a man a world of titillation as he traveled on the road. The

three-headed _Gerion_, put me in mind of the master of the _Temple_’s

three intellectual minds, and when I saw _Briares_ with his hundred arms

and hands, out of my zeal to king _William_ and his government, I could

not but wish that we had so well qualify’d a person for secretary of

state ever since the Revolution; for having so many heads and hands to

employ, he might easily have managed all affairs domestick and foreign,

and been both dictator and clerk to himself. Which besides the advantage

of keeping secret all orders and instructions, (and that you know,

gentlemen, is of no small importance in politicks) would have saved his

majesty no inconsiderable sum in his civil list.

Being arrived at the end of this doleful and execrable lane, I came into

a large open, barren plain, thro’ which ran a river, whose water was as

black as my hat: Coming to the banks of this wonderful river, an old

ill-look’d wrinkl’d fellow in a tatter’d boat, which did not seem to be

worth a groat, making towards the shoar, beckon’d, and held out his

right-hand to me: Knowing nothing of his business or character, I could

not imagine what he meant by doing so; but upon second thoughts,

thinking he had a mind to have his fortune told, _You must understand,

old gentleman_, says I to him, _that there are three principal lines in

a man’s hand, the first of which is called by the learned_ Ludovicus

Vives, _Secretary to_ Tamerlain _the magnificent, the_ linea boetica,

_line of life; the second, the_ linea hepatica, _or liver line; the

third and last, the_ linea intercalaris, _so call’d by_ Sebastian

Munster _and_ Erra Pater, _because it crosses the two aforesaid lines in

an equicrural parabola_. Hold your impertinent stuff, says the old

ferryman, _erra_ me no _erra paters_, but speak to the point, and give

me my fare, if you design to come over. By this I perceiv’d my mistake,

and knew him to be _Charon_: So I dived into my pockets, but alas! I

found all the birds were flown, if ever any had been there, which you

may believe, gentlemen, was no small mortification to me. Get you gone

for a rascally scoundrel as you are, says _Charon_, some son of whore of

a fiddler, or player, I warrant you; go and take up your quarters with

those pennyless rogues that are sunning themselves on yonder hillock. To

see now how a man may be mistaken by a fair outside! when I came up to

’em, I found them a parcel of jolly well-look’d fellows, who, one would

have thought were wealthy enough to have fined for sheriffs: I counted,

let me see, six princes of the empire that were younger brothers, ten

_French_ counts, fourteen knights of _Malta_, twelve _Welsh_ gentlemen,

sixteen _Scotch_ lairds, with abundance of chymists, projectors,

insurers, noblemens creditors, and the like; that were all wind-bound

for want of the ready _rhino_. Two days we continued in this doleful

condition; and as Dr. _Sherlock_ says of himself, in relation to the

13th chapter of the _Romans_, _here I stuck, and had stuck till the last

conflagration, if it had not been for bishop_ Overall_’s

Convocation-Book_; e’en so here we might have tarry’d world without end,

if an honest teller of the _Exchequer_, and a clerk of the _pay-office_,

had not come to our relief; who understanding our case, cry’d out,

_Come along, gentlemen, we have money enough to defray twenty such

trifles as this; God be prais’d, we had the good luck to die before the

parliament looked into our accounts_. With that they gave _Charon_ a

broad-piece each of ’em, so our whole caravan consisting of about 70

persons in all, that had not a farthing in the world to bless

themselves, ferry’d over to the other side of the river.

As we were crossing the stream, _Charon_ told us how an _Irish_ captain

would have trick’d him. He came strutting down to the river-side, says

he, as fine as a prince, in a long scarlet cloak, all bedaub’d with

silver lace, but had not a penny about him. _Dear joy_, crys he to me,

_I came away in a little haste from the other world, and left my

breeches behind me, but I’ll make thee amends by Chreest and St._

Patrick, _for I’ll refresh thy antient nostrils with some of_

Hippolito_’s best snuff, which cost me a week ago, a crown an ounce_. I

told the _Hibernian_, that old birds were not to be taken with chaff,

nor _Charon_ to be banter’d out of his due with a little dust of

sot-weed; and giving him a reprimand with my stretcher over the noddle,

bid him go, like a coxcomb as he was, about his business. The wretch

santer’d about the banks for a month, but at last, pretended to be a

_Frenchman_, got over gratis this summer, among the duke of _Orlean_’s

retinue. But what was the most surprizing piece of news I ever heard,

_Charon_ assured us, upon his veracity, that the late king of _Spain_

was forc’d to lie by full a fortnight, for want of money to carry him

over; for cardinal _Portocarero_ had been so busy in forging his will,

that he had forgot to leave the poor monarch a farthing in his pocket;

and that at last, one of his own grandees, coming by that way, was so

complaisant as to defray his prince’s passage; and well he might, says

our surly ferryman, for in five years time he had cheated him of two

millions.

We were no sooner landed on the other side of the river, but some of us

fil’d off to the right, and others to the left, as their business called

them: For my part, I made the best of my way to the famous city

_Brandinopolis_, seated upon the river _Phlegethon_, as being a place of

the greatest commerce and resort in all king _Pluto_’s dominions. Who

should I meet upon the road but my old friend said acquaintance Mr.

_Nokes_, the comedian, who received me with all imaginable love and

affection? Mr. _Haines_, says he, _I am glad with all my heart to see

you in Hell_; upon my salvation, we have expected you here this great

while, and I question not but our royal master will give you a reception

befitting a person of your extraordinary merit. Mr. _Nokes_, said I,

_Your most obedient servant_, you are pleas’d to compliment, but I know

no other merit I have, but that of being honour’d with your friendship.

_But my dear_ Jo., cries he, _how go affairs in Covent-Garden?_ Does

cuckoldom flourish, and fornication maintain its ground still against

the reformers? And the play-house in _Drury-Lane_, is it as much

frequented as it us’d to be? I had no sooner given him a satisfactory

answer to these questions, but we found ourselves in the suburbs; so my

friend _Nokes_, with that gaity and openness, which became him so well

at the play-house, _Jo._, says he, I’ll give thee thy welcome to Hell;

with that he carry’d me to a little blind coffee-house, in the middle of

a dirty alley, but certainly one of the worst furnish’d tenements I ever

beheld: there was nothing to be seen but a few broken pipes, two or

three founder’d chairs, and bare naked walls, with not so much as a

superannuated almanack, or tatter’d ballad to keep ’em in countenance;

so that I could not but fancy myself in some of love’s little

tabernacles about _Wildstreet_, or _Drury-Lane_. Come, Mr. _Haines_, and

what are you disposed to drink? What you please, Sir. Here, madam, give

the gentleman a glass of _Geneva_. As soon as I had whipp’d it down, my

friend _Nokes_ plucking me by the sleeve, and whispering me in the ear,

prithee _Jo._, who dost think that lady at the bar is? I consider’d her

very attentively, by the same token she was three times as ugly as my

lady _Frightall_, countess of ---- and three times as thick and bulky as

Mrs. _Pix_ the poetress, and very fairly told him, I knew her not. Why

then I shall surprize you. This is the famous _Semiramis_. The Devil she

is! answer’d I: What is this the celebrated and renowned queen of

_Babylon_, she that built those stupendious walls and pensile gardens,

of which antient historians tell us so many miracles; that victorious

_heroine_, who eclipsed the triumphs of her illustrious husband; that

added _Æthiopia_ to her empire; and was the wonder as well as the

ornament of her sex? Is it possible she should fall so low as to be

forced to sell _Geneva_, and such ungodly liquors for a subsistence?

’Tis e’en so, says Mr. _Nokes_, and this may serve as a lesson of

instruction to you, that when once death has laid his icy paws upon us,

all other distinctions of fortune and quality immediately vanish. These

words were no sooner out of his mouth, but in came a formal old

gentleman, and plucking a large wooden box from under his cloak, _Will

you have any fine snuff_, gentlemen, _here is the finest snuff in the

universe_, gentlemen; _a never failing remedy_, gentlemen, _against the

megrims and head-ach_. And who do you take this worthy person to be?

says Mr. _Nokes_, But that I am in this lower world, cry’d I, I durst

swear ’tis the very individual quaker that sells his herb-snuff at the

_Rainbow_ coffee-house. Damnably mistaken, says Mr. _Nokes_, before

_George_, no less a man than the great _Cyrus_, the first founder of the

_Persian_ monarchy. I was going to bless myself at this discovery, when

a jolly red-nos’d woman in a straw-hat popt into the room, and in a

shrill treble cry’d out, _Any buckles, combs or scissars_, gentlemen,

_and tooth-picks, bottle-screws or twizers, silver buttons or

tobacco-stoppers_, gentlemen; well now, my worthy friend, Mr. _Haines_,

who do you think this to be? The Lord knows, reply’d I, for here are

such an unaccountable choppings and changings among you that the Devil

can’t tell what to make of ’em. Why then, in short, this is the virtuous

_Thalestris_, Queen of the _Amazons_, the same numerical princess, that

beat the hoof so many hundred leagues to get _Alexander_ the Great to

administer his royal nipple to her. But _Jo._ since I find thee so

affected at these alterations that have happen’d to persons who lived so

many hundred years ago, I am resolv’d to shew thee some of a more modern

date, and particularly of such as either thou wast acquainted with in

the other world, or at lead hast often heard mention’d in company. So

calling for the other glass of _Geneva_, he left a tester at the bar,

and _Semiramis_, to shew her courtly breeding, dropp’d us abundance of

curtesies, and paid us as much respect at our coming out, as your

two-penny _French_ barbers in _Soho_ do to a gentleman that gives them a

brace of odd half-pence above the original contract in their sign.

[Illustration: _The Pall Mall of Brandipolis._

_Vol. II P. 7_

]

We walk’d thro’ half a dozen streets without meeting any thing worthy of

observation. At last my friend _Nokes_, pointed to a little edifice,

which exactly resembles Dr. _Burgess_’s conventicle in _Russel-Court_;

says he, your old acquaintance _Tony Lee_, who turn’d presbyterian

parson, upon his coming into these quarters, holds forth most notably

here every _Sunday_; _Jacob Hall_ and _Jevon_ are his clerks, and chant

it admirably. Mother _Stratford_, the duchess of _Mazarine_, my lord

_Warwick_, and Sir _Fleetwood_, are his constant hearers; and to

_Tony_’s everlasting honour be it spoken, he delivers his fire and

brimstone with so good a grace, splits his text so judiciously, turns up

the whites of his eyes so theologically, cuffs his cushion so

orthodoxly, and twirls his band-strings so primitively, that _Pluto_ has

lately made him one of his chaplains in ordinary. From this we crossed

another street, which one may properly enough call the _Bow-street_, or

_Pall-Mall_ of _Brandinopolis_. No sawcy tradesman or mechanick dares

presume to live here, but ’tis wholly inhabited by fine gaudy fluttering

sparks, and fine airy ladies; who in no respect are inferior to yours in

_Covent-Garden_. When the sky is serene, and not a breath of wind

stirring, you may see whole covies of them displaying their finery in

the street; but at other times you never see ’em our of a chair, for

fear of discomposing their commodes or periwigs. We had not gone twenty

paces, before we met three flaming beaux of the first magnitude, the

like of whom we never saw at the _Vourthoot_ at the _Hague_, the

_Tuilleries_ at _Paris_, or the _Mall_ in St. _James_’s-park. They were

all three in black (for you must know we are in deep mourning here for

the death of my lady _Proserpine_’s favourite monkey) but he in the

middle, tho’ he had neither face nor shape to qualify him for a gallant:

for he had a phyz as forbidden as beau _Whitaker_, and was as thick

about the waste, as the fat squab porter at the _Griffin_-tavern in

_Fuller’s-Rents_, yet he made a most magnificent figure: His periwig was

large enough to have loaded a camel, and he had, bestowed upon it at

least a bushel of powder, I warrant you. His sword-knot dangled upon the

ground, and his steenkirk that was most agreeably discolour’d with snuff

from top to bottom, reach’d down to his waste; he carry’d his hat under

his left-arm, walk’d with both his hands in the wastband of his

breeches, and his cane that hung negligently down in a string from his

right-arm, trail’d most harmoniously against the pebbles, while the

master of it, tripping it nicely upon his toes, was humming to himself,

_Oh, ye happy happy groves,_

_Witness of our tender loves._

Having given you this description of him, I need not trouble myself to

enlarge upon the dress of his two companions, who, tho’ they fell much

short of his inimitable original in point of garniture and dress, yet

they were singular enough to have drawn the eyes of men, women and

children after ’em in any part of _Europe_. As I observed this sight

with a great deal of admiration, Mr. _Nokes_ very gravely asked me, who

I took the middlemost person to be; upon my telling him I had never seen

him before, nor knew a syllable of him or his private history; why, says

Mr. _Nokes_, this is _Diogenes_ the famous cynic philosopher, and his

two companions are _George Fox_ and _James Naylor_ the quakers.

_Diogenes_, reply’d I to him, why he was one of the arrantest slovens in

all _Greece_, and a profess’d enemy to laundresses, for he never parted

with his shirt, ’till his shirt parted with him. No matter for that,

says Mr. _Nokes_, the case is alter’d now with him, for he has the

vanity and affectation of twenty Sir _Courtly Nice_’s blended together;

he constantly dispatches a courier to _Lisbon_ every month, to bring him

a cargo of _Limons_ to wash his hands with; he sends to _Montpelier_ for

_Hungary_-water; _Turin_ furnishes him with _Rosa Solis_; _Nismes_ with

_Eau de Conelle_, and _Paris_ with _Ratifia_ to settle his maw in the

morning. Nothing will go down with him but _Ortolans_, _Snipes_, and

_Woodcocks_; and _Matson_, that some years ago liv’d at the _Rummer_ in

_Queen-street_, is the administrator of his kitchen. This, said I to

him, is the most phantastick change I have seen since my passing the

_Styx_: for who the plague wou’d have believ’d that that antient quaker

_Diogenes_, and those modern cynicks, _Fox_ and _Naylor_, should

degenerate so much from their primitive institution, as to set up for

fops? When we came up to ’em, _Diogenes_ gave us a most gracious bow,

but those two everlasting complimenters, his friends, I was afraid

wou’d have murder’d me with their civilities; for which reason I

disingaged myself from ’em something abruptly, by the same token I

overheard _James Naylor_ call me _bougre insulare_ and _tramontane_, for

my ill manners.

When the coast was clear of ’em, says I to my _Nokes_, every thing is so

turned topsy-turvy here with you, that I can hardly resolve myself

whether I walk upon my head or my feet: right, Mr. _Haines_, says he,

but time is precious; so let’s mend our pace if you please, that we may

see all the curiosities of this renowned city before ’tis dark.

The next street we came into, we saw a tall thin-gutted mortal driving a

wheel-barrow of pears before him, and crying in a hoarse tone, _pears

twenty a penny_; looking him earnestly in the face, I presently knew him

to be beau _Heveiningham_, but I found he was shy, and so took no

further notice of him. Not ten doors from hence, says Mr. _Nokes_, lives

poor _Norton_, that shot himself. I ask’d him in what quality, he

answered me, as a sub-operator to a disperser of darkness, _anglicè_, a

journeyman to a tallow-chandler. I would willingly have made him a short

visit, but was intercepted in my design by a brace of fellows that were

link’d to their good behaviour, like a pair of _Spanish_ galley-slaves;

tho’ they agreed as little as _Jowler_ and _Ringwood_ coupled together,

for one of ’em lugg’d one away, and his brother the other. I soon knew

them to be _Dick Baldwin_, the whig-bookseller, and _Mason_ the

non-swearing parson, whom, as I was afterwards informed, judge _Minos_,

had order’d to be yoak’d thus, to be a mutual plague and punishment to

one another. Both of ’em made up to us as hard as they could drive.

_Well, Sir, says the_ Levite, _what comfortable news do you bring from

St._ Germains? _Our old friend_ Lewis le Grand _is well I hope. Damn_

Lewis le Grand, _and all his adherents, cries_ Dick Baldwin. _Pray Sir,

what racy touches of scandal have been publish’d of late_, by my worthy

friends, _Sam. Johnson_, Mr. _Tutchin_, and honest Mr. _Atwood_; and the

gallows that groan’d so long for _Robin Hog_ the messenger, when is it

like to lose its longing? Have no fresh batteries attack’d the court

lately from honest Mr. _Darby_’s in _Bartholomew-Close_? And prithee

what new piracies from the quakers at the _Pump_ in _Little-Britain_?

What new whales, devils, ghosts, murders; from _Wilkins_ in the

_Fryars_? But above all, dear Sir, of what kidney are the present

sheriffs; and particularly my lord-mayor, how stands he affected? Why

_Dick_, says I to him, fearing to be stunn’d with more interrogatories,

tho’ most of the folks I have seen here are changed either for the

better or the worse, yet I find thou art the true, primitive, busy,

pragmatical, prating, muttering _Dick Baldwin_ still, and will be so to

the end of the chapter. In the name of the three furies, what should

make thee trouble thyself about sheriffs and lord-mayor? But thou art of

the same foolish belief, I find, with thy brother coxcombs at _North_’s

coffee-house, who think all the fate of christendom depends upon the

choice of a lord-mayor; whereas to talk of things familiarly, and as we

ought to do, what is this two-legg’d animal ycleped a lord-mayor, but a

certain temporary machine of the city’s setting up, who on certain

appointed days is oblig’d to ride on horse-back to please the

_Cheapside_ wives, who must scuffle his way thro’ so many furlongs of

custard, who is only terrible to delinquent-bakers, oyster-women, and

scavengers; and has no other privilege above his brethren, as I know of,

but that of taking a comfortable nap in his gold chain at _Paul_’s or

_Salter’s-Hall_; to either of which places his conscience, that is, his

interest, carries him. Surly _Dick_ was going to say something in

defence of the city magistrate, but my brother _Nokes_ and I prevented

him, by calling to the next hackney coachman, whom, to my great

surprise, I found to be the famous Dr. _Busby_ of _Westminster_-school;

who now, instead of flogging boys, was content to act in an humbler

sphere, and exercise his lashing talent upon horses. We ordered him to

set us down at _Bedlam_, where my friend _Nokes_ assured me we should

find diversion enough, and the first person we met with in this

celebrated mansion, was the famous queen _Dido_ of _Carthage_, supported

by the ingenious Mrs. _Behn_ on the one side, and the learned

_Christiana_, queen of _Sweden_, on the other. _Gentlemen_, cry’d she,

_I conjure you, by that respect which is due to truth, and by that

complaisance which is owing to us of the fair sex, to believe none of

those idle lies that_ Virgil _hath told of me. That impudent versifyer

has given out, that I murder’d myself for the sake of his pious_

Trojan, _the hero of his romance; whereas I declare to you, gentlemen,

as I hope to be sav’d, that I never saw the face of that fugitive

scoundrel in my life, but dy’d in my bed with as much decency and

resignation as any woman in the parish: but what touches my honour most

of all, is that most horrid calumny of my being all alone with_ Æneas

_in the cave_. Upon this I humbly remonstrated to her majesty, that

altho’ _Virgil_ had taken the liberty to leave her and his pious

_Trojan_ in a grotto together, yet he no where insinuated that any thing

criminal had passed between ’em. How, says Mr. _Behn_, in a fury, was it

not scandal enough in all conscience, to say that a man and a woman were

in a dark blind cavern by themselves? What tho’ there was no such

convenience as a bed or a couch in the room; nay, not so much as a

broken-back’d chair, yet I desire you to tell me, sweet Mr. _Haines_,

what other business can a man and a woman have in the dark together,

but----. Ay, cries the queen of _Sweden_, what other business can a man

and a woman have in the dark, but, as the fellow says in the _Moor of

Venice_, to make the beast with two backs? not to pick straws I hope, or

to tell tales of a tub. Under favour, ladies, reply’d I, ’tis impossible

I should think, for a grave sober man, and a woman of discretion, to

pass a few hours alone, without carrying matters so far home as you

insinuate. What in the dark? cries queen _Dido_, that’s mine a ---- in a

band-box. Let peoples inclinations be never so modest and virtuous, yet

this cursed darkness puts the devil and all of wickedness into their

heads: the man will be pushing on his side, that’s certain; and as for

the woman, I’ll swear for her, that when no body can see her blush, she

will be consenting. In fine, tho’ the soul be never so well fortify’d to

hold out a siege, yet the body, as soon as love’s artillery begins to

play upon it, it will soon beat a parley, and make a separate treaty for

itself.

Thus her _Punick_ majesty ran on, and the Lord knows when her royal

clack would have done striking, if a female messenger had not come to

her in the nick of time, and whisper’d her in the ear, to go to the

famous _Lucretia_’s crying-out, who, it seems, was got with child upon a

hay-cock, by _Æsop_ the fabulist. As soon as queen _Dido_ and her two

prattling companions were gone out of the room, Mr. _Nokes_, says I, you

have without question seen _Æsop_ very often, therefore pray let me beg

the favour of you, to tell me whether he is such a deformed ill-favoured

wight, as the historians represent him; for you must know we have a

modern critick of singular humanity, near St. _James_’s, that has been

pleased, in some late dissertation upon _Phalaris_’s epistles, to

maintain that he was a well-shap’d, handsome gentleman; and for a proof

of this, insists much upon _Æsop_’s intriguing with his fellow-slave,

the beautiful _Rhodope_. No, no, replies Mr. _Nokes_, _Æsop_ is just

such a crumpled hump-shoulder’d dog, for all the world, as you see him

before _Ogilby_’s translation of his fables; and let the above-mentioned

grammarian, I think they call him, Dr. _Bentivolio_, say what he will to

the contrary, ’tis even so as I tell you. And now, we are upon the

chapter of Dr. _Bentivolio_; about a month ago I happen’d to make merry

over a bowl of punch with _Phalaris_ the _Sicilian_ tyrant, who swore by

all that was good and sacred, that he would trounce the unmannerly slave

for robbing him of those epistles, which have gone unquestion’d under

his name for so many ages: but the time is coming, said he, when I shall

make this impudent pedant cry _peccavi_ for the unworthy treatment he

has given me: I have my brazen-bull, heaven be prais’d, ready for him,

and as soon as he comes into these quarters, will shut him up in it, and

roast him with his own dull volumes, and those of his dearly beloved

friends the _Dutch_ commentators.

By this time we were got to the upper end of the room, when, says Mr.

_Nokes_ to me, I will shew you a most surprising sight. You must know

this place, like _Noah_’s ark, contains beasts of all sorts and sizes;

some have their brains turn’d by politicks, who, except some three or

four that are suffer’d to go abroad with a keeper, are lock’d up in a

large apartment up stairs. These puppies rave eternally about liberty

and property, and the _jura populi_, and are so damn’d mischievous, that

it is dangerous to venture near them. _England_ sends more of this sort

to _Bedlam_, than all the countries of _Europe_ besides. Others again

have their intellects fly-blown by love, by the same token that most of

the poor wretches that are in this doleful predicament come out of

_France_, _Spain_, _Italy_, and such hot climates. Now and then, indeed,

we have a silly apprentice or so, takes a leap from _London-Bridge_ into

the _Thames_, or decently hangs himself in a garret, in his mistress’s

garters, but these accidents happen but seldom; and besides, since

fornication has made so great a progress among us, love is observed not

to operate so powerfully in _England_ as it formerly did, when there was

no relief against him but matrimony. Some again have their _pia mater_

addled by their religion, but neither are the sots of this species so

numerous in _Britain_, or elsewhere, as they were in the days of yore;

for the priests of most religions have play’d their game so aukwardly,

that not one man in a thousand will trust them with shuffling of the

cards.

But of all the various sorts of mad-men that come hither, the rhimers or

versifyers far exceed the rest in number: most of these fellows in the

other world were mayors, or aldermen, or deputies of wards, that knew

nothing but the rising and falling of stocks, squeezing young heirs, and

cheating their customers: but now the tables are turn’d, for they eat

and drink, nay, sleep and dream in rhime, and have a distich to

discharge at you upon every occasion. With that he open’d the wicket of

the uppermost door, and bid me peep in. ’Tis impossible to describe to

you the surprize I was in, to see so many of my city acquaintance there,

whom I should sooner have suspected of burglary or sacrilege, than of

tacking a pair of rhimes together: but it seems this is a judgment upon

these wretches, for the aversion they have to the muses when they are

living. The walls were lined with verses from top to bottom, and happy

was the wretch that could get a bit of charcoal to express the happiness

of his fancy upon the poor plaister. The first man I saw was Sir _John

Peak_, formerly lord-mayor of _London_, who bluntly came up to the door,

and asked me what was rhime to _Crambo_? Immediately Sir _Thomas

Pilkington_ popp’d over his shoulder, and pray friend, says he, for I

perceive you are newly come from the other world, how go the affairs of

_Parnassus_? What new madrigals, epithilamiums, sonnets, epigrams, and

satires, have you brought with you? What pretty conceits had Mr.

_Settle_ in his last _London_ triumphs? What plays have taken of late?

Mrs. _Bracegirdle_, doth she live still unmarried? And pray, Sir, how

doth Mr. _Betterton_’s lungs hold out? But now I think on’t, I have a

delicious copy of verses to shew you, upon the divine _Melesinda_’s

frying of pancakes, only stay a minute, while I step yonder to fetch

’em: he had no sooner turn’d his back, but I pluck’d too the wicket, and

gave him the slip; for certainly of all the plagues in hell, or t’other

side of it, nothing comes up to that of a confounded repeater. Leaving

these versifying insects to themselves, we walked up a pair of stairs

into the upper room, one end of which was the quarter for distracted

lovers, as the other was for the lunatick republicans. I just cast my

eyes into _Cupid_’s _Bear-Garden_, and observed that the walls were all

adorned with mysterious hieroglyphicks of love, as hearts transfixed,

and abundance of odd-fashion’d battering rams, such as young lovers use

to trace upon the cieling of a coffee-house with the smoke of a candle.

Some half a score of ’em were making to the door, but having seen enough

of these impertinents in the other world, I had no great inclination to

suffer a new persecution from ’em in this. So my friend and I turn’d up

to the apartment where the republicans were lock’d up, who made such a

hurricane and noise, as if a legion of devils had been broke loose among

them. _Harrington_, I remember, was the most unruly of the whole pack.

Thanks to my friends in _London_, says he, I hear my _Oceana_ is lately

reprinted, and furbish’d with a new dedication to those judicious and

worthy gentlemen, my lord-mayor and court of aldermen, by Mr. _Toland_.

You need not value yourself so much upon that, says _Algernoon Sidney_,

for my works were published there long before yours. And so were mine,

cries _Milton_, at the expence of some worthy patriots, that were not

afraid to publish them under a monarchical government. But what think

you of my memoirs, cries _Ludlow_, for if you talk of histories, there’s

a history for you, which, for sincerity and truth, never saw its fellow

since the creation. Upon this the uproar began afresh, so thinking it

high time to withdraw, I jogg’d my friend _Nokes_ by the elbow, and as

we went down stairs told him, that _Pluto_ was certainly in the right

on’t, to lock up these hot-headed mutineers by themselves, allow them

neither pen, ink, fire, nor candle; for should he give them leave to

propagate their seditious doctrines, he would only find himself king of

_Erebus_, at the courtesy of his loving subjects.

Just as we were going out of this famous edifice; I have an odd piece of

news to tell you, says Mr. _Nokes_, which is, that altho’ we have men of

all countries, more or less here, yet there never was one _Irishman_ in

it. How comes that about, I beseech you? said I to him. Why, replies he,

madness always supposes a loss of reason; but the duce is in’t if a man

can lose that which he never possess’d in his life. Oh your humble

servant, answer’d I, ’tis well none of our swaggering Dear Joys in

_Covent-Garden_ hear you talk so, for if they did, ten to one but they

would cut your throat for this reflection upon the intellects of their

country, and send you to the Devil for the honour of St. _Patrick_.

When we came out into the open air again, and had taken half a dozen

turns in the neighbouring fields, Mr. _Nokes_, says I, ’tis my

misfortune to come in this place without a farthing of money in my

pocket, and _Alecto_ confound me, if I know what course to take for my

maintenance, therefore I would desire you to put me in a way. Have no

care for that, says Mr. _Nokes_, his infernal majesty is very kind and

obliging to us players, and because we act so many different parts in

the other world, as kings, princes, bishops, privy-counsellors, beaux,

cits, sailors, and the like, gives us leave to fellow what profession we

have most a fancy to. For my part, I keep a nicknackatory, or toy-shop,

as I formerly did over against the _Exchange_, and turn a sweet penny by

it, for our gallants here throw away their money after a furious rate.

Now _Jo._ I think thou can’st not do better than to set up for a

_High-German_ fortune-teller; thou knowest all the cant and roguery of

that practice to perfection, and besides, has the best phiz in the world

to carry on such an affair. As for money to furnish thee an house, and

set up a convenient equipage, to buy thee a pair of globes, a magick

looking-glass, and all other accoutrements of that nature, thou shalt

command as much as thou hast occasion for. I was going to thank my

friend for so courteous an offer, when who should pop upon us on the

sudden, but his _Polish_ majesty’s physician in ordinary, the late

famous Dr. _Conner_ of _Bowstreet_, but in so wretched a pickle, so

tatter’d a condition, that I could hardly know him. How comes this

about, noble doctor, said I to him, what is fortune unkind, and do the

planets frown upon merit? I remember you were going to set up your

coach, and marry the widow _Bently_ in _Russel-street_, just before your

last distemper hurry’d you out of the world. Is it possible the learned

author of _Evangelium Medici_ should want bread? or, doctor, did you

leave all your _Hibernian_ confidence behind you! I thought a true

_Irishman_ could have made his fortune in any part of the universe.

_Ille nihil, nec me quærentem vana moratur;_

_Sed graviter gemitus imo de pectore ducens._

Mr. _Haines_, says he, _Pluto_, to say no worse of him, is very

ungrateful to the gentlemen of our faculty; and were he not a crown’d

head, I would not stick to call him a _Poltroon_. I am sure no body of

men cultivate his interest with more industry and success, than we

physicians. What would his dominions be but a bare wilderness and

solitude, if we did not daily take care to stock them with fresh

colonies? This I can say for myself, that I did not let him lose one

patient that fell into my hands; nay, rather than he should want

customers, I practised upon myself. But after the received maxim of most

princes, I find he loves the treason, and hates the traytor; so that no

people are put to harder shifts in hell, than the sons of _Galen_. Would

you believe it, Mr. _Haines_, the immortal Dr. _Willis_ is content to be

a flayer of dead horses; the famous _Harvey_ is turn’d higgler, and you

may see him ride every morning to market upon a pannier of eggs;

_Mayern_ is glad to be pimp to noblemen’s _valets de chambre_; old

_Glisson_ sells vinegar upon a lean scraggy tit; _Moreton_ is return’d

to his occupation, and preaches in a little conventicle you can hardly

swing a cat round in; _Lower_ sells penny prayer-books all the week, and

curls an _Amen_ in a meeting-house on sundays; _Needham_, in conjunction

with Capt. _Dawson_, is bully to a _Bordello_; and the celebrated

_Sydenham_ empties close-stools. As for myself, I am sometimes a small

retainer to a billiard-table; and sometimes, when the matter on’t is

sick, earn a penny by a whimsy-board. I lie with a link-man upon a

flock-bed in a garret, and have not seen a clean shirt upon my back

since I came into this cursed country. By my troth, said I, I am sorry

to hear matters go so scurvily with you; but pluck up a good heart, for

when the times are at worst they must certainly mend. But, pray doctor,

before you go any farther, satisfy me what church you dy’d a member of,

for we had the devil and all to do about you when you were gone. The

parson of St. _Giles_’s stood out stifly that you dy’d a sound

Protestant, but all your countrymen swore thou didst troop off like a

good Catholick. Why really _Jo._ cry’d the doctor, to deal plainly with

you, I don’t know well what religion I dy’d in; but if I dy’d in any, as

physicians you know seldom do, it was, as I take it, that of the Church

of _England_. I remember, indeed, when I grew light-headed, and the bed,

room, and every thing began to turn round with me, that a

forster-brother of mine, an _Irish_ Priest, offer’d me the civility of

_Extreme Unction_, and I that knew I had a long journey to go, thought

it would not be amiss to have my boots well liquor’d before-hand, tho’

ofter all, for any good it did me, he might as well have rubb’d my

posteriors with a brick-bat. This is all I remember of the matter; but

what signifies it to the business we are talking of? In short, _Jo._ if

thou could’st put me in a way to live, I should be exceedingly beholden

to thee. Doctor, cry’d I, if you will come to me a week hence, something

may be done; for I intend to build me a stage in one of the largest

_Piazzas_ of this city, take me a fine house, and set up my old trade of

fortune-telling; and as I shall have occasion now and then for some

understrapper to draw teeth for me, or to be my toad-eater upon the

stage, if you will accept of so mean an employment, besides my old

cloaths, which will be something, I’ll give you meat, drink, washing,

and lodging, and four marks _per annum_.

I am sensible, gentlemen, that I have tried your patience with a long

tedious letter, but not knowing when I should find so convenient an

opportunity to send another, I resolved to give you a full account in

this, of all the memorable things that fell within the compass of my

observation, during my short residence in this country. At present,

thanks to my kind stars, I live very comfortably; I keep my brace of

geldings, and half a dozen servants; my house is as well furnish’d as

most in this populous city; and to tell you what prodigious number of

persons of all ages, sexes and conditions flock daily to me, to have

their fortunes told, ’twould hardly find belief with you. If the

celestial phenomena’s deceive me not, and there is any truth in the

conjunction of _Mercury_ and _Luna_, I shall in a short time rout all

the pretenders to _Astrology_, who combine to ruin my reputation and

practice, but without effect; for this opposition has rather increased

my friends at court than lessen’d them. I am promised to be _maître des

langues_, to the young prince of Acheron, (so we call the heir apparent

to these subterranean dominions) and _Proserpine’s camariera major_

assured me t’other morning, I should have the honour of teaching the

beautiful princess _Fuscamarilla_, his sister, to dance. Once more,

gentlemen, I beg your excuse for this prolix epistle, and hoping you

will order one of your fraternity to send me the news of your upper

world, I remain,

_Your most obliged,

and most obedient Servant_,

JO. HAINES.

Dec. 21.

1701.

_An Answer to Mr._ JOSEPH HAINES, High-German _Astrologer, at the

sign of the_ Urinal _and_ Cassiopea’s Chair, _in_ Brandinopolis,

_upon_ Phlegethon. _By Mr._ BROWN.

_Worthy Sir_,

We received your letter, dated _Dec. 21. 1701._ and read it yesterday in

a full assembly at _Will_’s. The whole company lik’d it exceedingly, and

return you their thanks for the ample and satisfactory account you have

given them of _Pluto_’s dominions, from which we have had little or no

news, however it has happened, since the famous _Don Quevedo_ had the

curiosity to travel thither.

Whereas you desire us, by way of exchange, to furnish you with some of

the most memorable transactions that have lately fallen out in this part

of the globe; we willingly comply with your proposal, and are proud of

any opportunity to shew Mr. _Haines_ how much we respect and value him.

_Imprimis_, _Will_’s coffee-house, Mr. _Haines_, is much in the same

condition, as when you left it; and as a worthy gentleman has lately

distributed them into their proper classes, we have four sorts of

persons that resort hither; first, Such as are beaux and no wits, and

these are easy to be known by their full periwigs and empty sculls;

secondly, Such as are wits and no beaux, and these, not to talk of their

out-sides, are distinguish’d by censuring the ill taste of the age, and

railing at one another; thirdly, Such as are neither wits nor beaux, I

mean your grave plodding politicians that come to us every night piping

hot from the parliament-house, and finish treaties that were never

thought of, and end wars before they are begun; and fourthly, Such as

are both wits and beaux, to whose persons, as well as merits, you can be

no stranger.

In the next place, the Playhouse stands exactly where it did. Mr. _Rich_

finds some trouble in managing his mutinous subjects, but ’tis no more

than what princes must expect to find in a mixt monarchy, as we take the

Playhouse to be. The actors jog on after the old merry rate, and the

women drink and intrigue. Mr. _Clinch_ of _Barnet_, with his pack of

dogs and organ, comes now and then to their relief; and your friend Mr.

_Jevon_ would hang himself, to see how much the famous Mr. _Harvey_

exceeds him in the ladder-dance.

We have had an inundation of plays lately, and one of them, by a great

miracle, made shift to hold out a full fortnight. The generality are

either troubled with convulsion-fits, and die the first day of the

representation, or by meer dint of acting, hold out to the third; which

is like a consumptive man’s living by cordials, or else die a violent

death, and are interr’d with the solemnity of catcalls. A merry

virtuoso, who makes one of the congregation _de propagando ingenio_,

designs to publish a weekly bill for the use of the two theatres, in

imitation of that published by the parish clerks, and faithfully to set

down what distemper every new play dies of.

If the author of a play strains hard for wit, and it drivels drop by

drop from him, he says it is troubled with a strangury. If it is vicious

in the design and performance, and dull throughout, he intends to give

it out in his bill, that it died by a knock in the cradle; if it

miscarries for want of fine scenes, and due acting, why then he says,

’tis starv’d at nurse; if it expires the first or second day he reckons

it among the abortive; and lastly, if it is damn’d for the feebleness of

its satire, he says it dies in breeding of teeth.

As our _wit_, generally speaking is debauch’d, so our wine, the parent

of it, is sophisticated all over the _town_; and as we never had more

_plays_ in the _two houses_, and more wine in city than at present, so

we were never encumber’d with worse of the two sorts than now. As for

the latter, we sell that for claret which has not a drop of the juice of

the grape in it, but is downright cyder. The corporation does not stop

short here, but our cyder, instead of apples, is made of turnips. Who

knows where the cheat will conclude? perhaps the next generation will

debauch our very turnips.

’Tis well, Mr. _Haines_, you dy’d when you did, for that unhappy place,

where you have so often exerted your talent, I mean _Smithfield_, has

fallen under the city magistrate’s displeasure; so that now St. _George_

and the _Dragon_, the _Trojan_ horse, and _Bateman_’s ghost, the

_Prodigal Son_, and _Jeptha_’s _Daughter_: In short, all the drolls of

glorious memory, are routed, defeated, and sent to grass, without any

hopes of a reprieve.

Next to _plays_, we have been over-run, in these times of publick

ferment and distraction, with certain wicked things, called _pamphlets_;

and some scriblers that shall be nameless, have writ _pro_ and _con_

upon the same subject, at least six times since last spring.

Both nations are at _bay_, and like two _bull-dogs_ snarl at one

another, yet have not thought fit, as yet, to come to actual blows. What

the event will be, we cannot prophesy at this distance, but every little

corporation in the kingdom has laid _Lewis le Grand_ upon his back, and

as good as call’d him perjur’d knave and villain. However, ’tis the

hardest case in the world if we miscarry; our _Grub-street_ pamphleteers

advise the shires and boroughs what sort of members to chuse; the shires

and boroughs advise their representatives what course to steer in

parliament; and the senators, no doubt on’t, will advise his majesty

what ministers to rely on, and how to behave himself in this present

conjuncture. Thus, advice, you see, like malt-tickets, circulates

plentifully about the kingdom; so that if we fail in our designs, after

all, the wicked can never say, ’twas for want of advice. We forgot to

tell you, Mr. _Haines_, that since you left this upper world, your life

has been written by a brother-player, who pretends he received all his

_memoirs_ from your own mouth, a little before you made a leap into the

dark; and really you are beholden to the fellow, for he makes you a

master of arts at the university, tho’ you never took a degree there.

That, and a thousand stories of other people he has father’d upon you,

and the truth on’t is, the adventures of thy life, if truly set down,

are so romantick, that few besides thy acquaintance would be able to

distinguish between the history and the fable. But let not this disturb

the serenity of your soul, Mr. _Haines_, for after this rate the lives

of all illustrious persons, whether ancient or modern, have been

written. This, Mr. _Haines_, is all we have to communicate to you at

present, so we conclude, with subscribing ourselves,

_Your most humble Servants_,

Sebastian Freeman,

_Registrarius, Nomine Societatis_.

_From_ Will_’s in_

Covent-Garden,

Jan. 10. 1701.

SCARRON _to_ LEWIS _le_ GRAND. _By Mr._ BROWN.

All the conversation of this lower world, at present, runs upon you; and

the devil a word we can hear in any of our coffee-houses, but what his

_Gallic_ Majesty is more or less concern’d in. ’Tis agreed on by all

our _Virtuosos_, that since the days of _Dioclesian_, no prince has

been so great a benefactor to hell as your self; and as much a matter of

eloquence as I was once thought to be at _Paris_, I want words to tell

you, how much you are commended here for so heroically trampling under

foot the treaty of _Reswick_, and opening a new scene of war in your

great _climateric_, at which age most of the princes before you were

such recreants, as to think of making up their scores with heaven, and

leaving their neighbours in peace. But you, they say, are above such

sordid precedents, and rather than _Pluto_ should want men to people his

dominions, are willing to spare him half a million of your own subjects,

and that at a juncture too, when you are not overstock’d with them.

This has gain’d you an universal applause in these regions; the three

_Furies_ sing your praises in every street; _Bellona_ swears there’s

never a prince in _Christendom_ worth hanging besides your self; and

_Charon_ bustles for you in all companies: he desir’d me, about a week

ago, to present his most humble respects to you; adding, that if it had

not been for your majesty, he, with his wife and children, must long ago

been quarter’d upon the parish; for which reason he duly drinks your

health every morning in a cup of cold _Styx_ next his conscience.

Indeed I have a double title to write to you, in the first place, as one

of your dutiful, tho’ unworthy, subjects, who formerly tasted of your

liberality; and secondly, as you have done me the honour to take away my

late wife, not only into your private embraces, but private councils.

Poor soul! I little thought she would fall to your majesty’s share when

I took my last farwel of her, or that a prince that had his choice of so

many thousands, would accept of my sorry leavings. And therefore, I must

confess, I am apt to be a little vain, as often as I reflect, that the

greatest monarch in the universe and I are brother-stallions, and that

the eldest son of the church, and the little _Scarron_ have fish’d in

the same hole. Some sawcy fellows have had the impudence to tell me to

my face, that Madam _Maintenon_ (for so, out of respect to your majesty,

I must call her) is your lawful wife, and that you were clandestinely

marry’d to her. I took them up roundly, as they deserv’d, and told them,

I was sure it was a damn’d lie; for, said I to them, if my master was

marry’d to her, as you pretend, she had broke his heart long ago, as

well as she did mine; from whence I positively concluded, that she might

be your mistress, but was none of your wife.

Last week, as I was sitting with some of my acquaintance in a

publick-house, after a great deal of impertinent chat about the affairs

of the _Milanese_, and the intended siege of _Mantua_, the whole company

fell a talking of your majesty, and what glorious exploits you had

perform’d in your time. Why, gentlemen, says an ill-look’d rascal, who

prov’d to be _Herostratus_, for _Pluto_’s sake let not the grand monarch

run away with all your praises. I have done something memorable in my

time too; ’twas I, who out of the _Gaiete de Cœur_, and to perpetuate my

name, fir’d the famous temple of the _Ephesian Diana_, and in two hours

consumed that magnificent structure which was two hundred years a

building: therefore, gentlemen, lavish not away all your praises, I

beseech you, upon one man, but allow others their share. Why, thou

diminutive inconsiderable wretch said I, in a great passion to him, thou

worthless idle _logger head_, thou _pigmy_ in sin, thou _Tom Thumb_ in

iniquity, how dares such a puny insect as thou art, have the impudence

to enter the lists with _Lewis le Grand_? thou valuest thy self upon

firing a church, but how? when the mistress of the house, who was a

midwife by profession, was gone out to assist _Olympias_, and deliver’d

her of _Alexander_ the Great. ’Tis plain, thou hadst not the courage to

do it when the goddess was present, and upon the spot; but what is this

to what my royal master can boast of, that had destroyed a hundred and a

hundred such foolish fabricks in his time, and bravely ordered them to

be bombarded, when he knew the very God that made and redeemed him had

taken up his _Quarters_ in ’em. Therefore turn out of the room, like a

paltry insignificant villain as thou art, or I’ll pick thy carcass for

thee.

He had no sooner made his _exit_, but cries an odd sort of a spark, with

his hat button’d up before, like a country scraper, under favour, Sir,

what do you think of me? Why, who are you? reply’d I to him, Who am I,

answer’d he, Why _Nero_, the sixth emperor of _Rome_, that murder’d

my---- Come, said I to him, to stop your prating, I know your history as

well as yourself, that murder’d your mother, kick’d your wife down

stairs, dispatch’d two Apostles out of the world, begun the first

persecution against the christians, and, lastly, put your master

_Seneca_ to death. As for the murder of your mother, I confess it shew’d

you had some taste of wickedness, and may pass for a tolerable piece of

gallantry; but prithee, what a mighty matter was it to send your wife

packing with a good kick in the guts, when once she grew nauseous and

sawcy; ’tis no more than what a thousand tinkers and foot-soldiers have

done before you: or to put the penal laws in execution against a brace

of hot-headed bigots, and their besotted followers, that must needs come

and preach up a new religion at _Rome_: or, in fine, to take away a

haughty, ungrateful pedant’s life, who conspir’d to take away your’s;

altho’ I know those worthy gentlemen, the school-masters, make a horrid

rout about it in their nonsensical declamations? Whereas his most

_Christian Majesty_, whose advocate I am resolved to be against all

opposers whatever, has bravely and generously starv’d a million of poor

_Hugonots_ at home, and sent t’other million of them a grasing into

foreign countries, contrary to solemn edicts, and repeated promises, for

no other provocation, that I know of, but because they were such

coxcombs, as to place him upon the throne. In short, friend _Nero_, thou

may’st pass for a rogue of the third or fourth class; but be advised by

a stranger, and never shew thyself such a fool as to dispute the

pre-eminence with _Lewis le Grand_, who has murder’d more men in his

reign, let me tell thee, than thou hast murder’d tunes, for all thou art

the vilest thrummer upon cat-gut the sun ever beheld. However, to give

the Devil his due, I will say it before thy face, and behind thy back,

that if thou had’st reign’d as many years as my gracious master has

done, and had’st had, instead of _Tigellinus_, a _Jesuit_ or two to have

govern’d thy conscience, thou mightest, in all probability, have made a

much more magnificent figure, and been inferior to none but the mighty

monarch I have been talking of.

Having put my _Roman_ emperor to silence, I look’d about me, and saw a

pack of grammarians (for so I guessed them to be by their impertinence

and noise) disputing it very fiercely at the next table; the matter in

debate was, which was the most heroical age; and one of them, who

valu’d himself very much upon his reading, maintain’d, that the heroical

age, properly so call’d, began with the _Theban_, and ended with the

_Trojan_ war, in which compass of time, that glorious constellation of

heroes, _Hercules_, _Jason_, _Theseus_, _Tidæus_, with _Agamemnon_,

_Ajax_, _Achilles_, _Hector_, _Troilus_, and _Diomedes_ flourished: men

that had all signaliz’d themselves by their personal gallantry, and

valour. His next neighbour argued very fiercely for the age wherein

_Alexander_ founded the _Grecian_ monarchy, and saw so many noble

generals and commanders about him. The third was as obstreperous for

that of _Julius Cæsar_, and manag’d his argument with so much heat, that

I expected every minute when these puppies wou’d have gone to

loggerheads in good earnest. To put an end to your controversy,

gentlemen, says I to them, you may talk till your lungs are founder’d,

but this I positively assert, that the present age we live in is the

most heroical age, and that my master, _Lewis le Grand_ is the greatest

hero of it. Hark you me, Sir, how do you make that appear, cry’d the

whole pack of them, opening upon me all at once: by your leave,

gentlemen, answer’d I, two to one is odds at foot-ball; but having a

hero’s cause to defend, I find myself possess’d with a hero’s vigour and

resolution, and don’t doubt but I shall bring you over to my party. That

age therefore is the most heroical which is the boldest and bravest; the

antients, I grant you, whor’d and got drunk, and cut throats as well as

we do; but, gentlemen, they did not sin upon the same foot as we, nor

had so many wicked discouragements to deter them; we whore when we know

’tis ten to one but we get a clap for our pains; whereas our

fore-fathers, before the siege of _Naples_, had no such blessing to

apprehend; we drink and murther one another in cold blood, at the same

time we believe that we must be rewarded with damnation; but your old

hero’s had no notion at all, or at least an imperfect one of a future

state: so ’tis a plain case, you see, that the heroism lies on our side.

To apply this then to my royal master; he has fill’d all Christendom

with blood and confusion; he has broke thro’ the most solemn treaties

sworn at the altar; he has stray’d and undone infinite numbers of poor

wretches; and all this for his own glory and ambition, when he’s assured

that hell gapes every moment for him: now tell me, whether your

_Jasons_, your _Agamemnons_, or _Alexanders_, durst have ventur’d so

heroically; or whether your pitiful emperors of _Germany_, your

mechanick kings of _England_ and _Sweden_, or your lousy States of

_Holland_, have courage enough to write after so illustrous a copy.

Thus, Sir, you may see with what zeal I appear in your majesty’s behalf,

and that I omit no opportunity of magnifying your great exploits to the

utmost of my poor abilities. At the same time I must freely own to you,

that I have met with some rough-hewn sawcy rascals, that have stopp’d me

in my full career, when I have been expatiating upon your praises, and

have so dumbfounded me with their villainous objections, that I could

not tell how to reply to them.

Some few days ago it was my fortune to affirm, in a full assembly, that

since the days of _Charlemagne_, _France_ was never bless’d with so

renown’d, so victorious, and so puissant a prince as your majesty. You

lame, gouty coxcomb, says a sawcy butter-box of a _Dutchman_ to me,

don’t give yourself these airs in our company; _Lewis_, the greatest

prince that _France_ ever had! Why, I tell thee, he has no more title to

that crown, than I have to the _Great Mogul_’s; and _Lewis_ the

thirteenth was no more his father than the Pope of _Rome_ is thine. I

bless’d myself to hear the fellow deliver this with so serious a mien,

when a countryman of his taking up the cudgels; ’Tis true, says he, your

mighty monarch has no right to the throne he possesses; the late king

had no hand in the begetting of him, but a lusty proper young fellow,

one _le Grand_ by name, and an Apothecary by profession, was employ’d by

cardinal _Mazarine_, who had prepar’d the queen’s conscience for the

taking of such a dose, to strike an heir for _France_ out of her

majesty’s body; by the same token that this scarlet agent of hell, got

him fairly poison’d as soon as he had done the work, for fear of telling

tales. If you ever read _Virgil_’s life written by _Donatus_, cries a

third to me, you’ll find that _Augustus_ having rewarded that famous

poet for some little services done him, with a parcel of loaves, had the

curiosity once to enquire of him who he thought was his father? to

which question of the emperor, _Virgil_ fairly answer’d, that he

believ’d him to be a Baker’s son, because he still paid him in a Baker’s

manufacture, _viz._ bread. And thus, were there no other proofs to

confirm it, yet any one would swear that _Lewis le Grand_ is an

Apothecary’s son, because he has acted all his life-time the part of an

Apothecary.

_Imprimis_, He has given so many strong purges to his own kingdom, that

he has empty’d it of half its people and money. _Item_, He apply’d

costives to _Genoa_ and _Brussels_, when he bombarded both those cities.

_Item_, He gave a damn’d clyster to the _Hollanders_ with a witness,

when he fell upon the rear of their provinces, in the year 72. _Item_,

He lull’d king _Charles_ the second asleep with female opiates. _Item_,

He forced Pope _Innocent_ the eleventh, to swallow the unpalatable

draught of the _Franchises_. _Item_, He administrated a restorative

cordial to _Mahumetanisme_, when he enter’d into an alliance with the

_Grand Turk_ against the emperor. _Item_, He would have bubbled the

prince of _Orange_ with the gilded pill of sovereignty, but his little

cousin was wiser than to take it. And lastly, If he had restor’d king

_James_ to his crown again, he would have brought the people of

_England_ a most conscientious Apothecary’s bill for his waiting and

attending. In short, shake this mighty monarch in a bag, turn him this

way, and that way, and t’other way, _sursum, deorsum, quaquaversum_,

I’ll engage you’ll find him nothing but a meer Apothecary; and I hope

the emperor and king of _England_ will play the Apothecary too in their

turn, and make him vomit up all those provinces and kingdoms he has so

unrighteously usurp’d. Prince _Eugene_ of _Savoy_ has work’d him pretty

well this last summer, and ’tis an infallible prognostic, that he’s

reduced to the last extremities, when his spiritual physicians apply

pigeons to the soles of his feet; I mean prayers and masses, and advise

him to reconcile himself to that Heaven he has so often affronted with

his most execrable perjuries.

’Tis impossible for me to tell your majesty, what a surprize I was in to

hear this graceless _Netherlander_ blaspheme your glorious name after

this insufferable rate. But to see how one persecution treads upon the

heels of another! I was hardly recover’d out of my astonishment, when a

son of a whore of a _German_, advancing towards me, was pleas’d to

explain himself as follows:

You keep a pother and noise here about your mighty monarch, says he to

me, but what has this mighty monarch, and be damn’d to you, done to

merit any body’s good word? I say, what one generous noble exploit has

he been guilty of in his whole reign, as long as it is, to deserve so

much incense and flattery, so many statues and triumphal arches, which a

pack of mercenary, nauseous, fulsome slaves have bestow’d upon him? For

my part, continues he, when I first heard his historians and poets, his

priests and courtiers, talk such wonderful things of him, I fancy’d that

another _Cyrus_ or _Alexander_ had appeared upon the stage; but when I

observed him more narrowly, and by a truer light, I found this immortal

man, as his inscriptions vainly stile him, to be a little, tricking,

pilfering _Fripon_, that watch’d the critical minute of stealing towns,

as nicely as your rogues of an inferior sphere do that of nimming

cloaks; and tho’ he had the fairest opportunity of erecting a new

western monarchy that ever any prince cou’d boast of, since the

declension of the _Roman_ empire; yet to his eternal disgrace be it

said, no man could have made a worse use of all those wonderful

advantages, that fortune, and the stupid security of his neighbours

conspir’d to put into his hands. To convince you of the truth of this,

let us only consider what posture the affairs of _France_ were in at his

accession to that crown, and several years after, as likewise how all

the neighbouring princes and states about him stood affected: to begin

then with the former, he found himself master of the best disciplin’d

troops in the universe, commanded by the most experienced generals that

any one age had produc’d, and spirited by a long train of victories,

over a careless, desponding, lazy enemy. All the great men of his

kingdom so depressed and humbled by the fortunate artifices of

_Richlieu_ and _Mazarine_, that they were not capable of giving him any

uneasiness at home, the sole power of raising money entirely in his own

hands, and his parliaments so far from giving a check to his daily

encroachments upon their liberties, that they were made the most

effectual instruments of his tyranny: In short, his clergy as much

devoted, and the whole body of his people as subservient to him as a

prince cou’d wish. As far his neighbours, he who was best able of any to

put a stop to his growing greatness, I mean the king of _England_,

either favour’d his designs clandestinely, or was so enervated by his

pleasure, that provided he cou’d enjoy an inglorious effeminacy at home,

he seem’d not to lay much to heart what became of the rest of

Christendom.

The emperor was composing anthems for his chapel at _Vienna_, when he

shou’d have appeared at the head of his troops on the _Rhine_. The

princes of _Germany_ were either divided from the common interest by the

underhand management of _France_, or not at all concerned at the

impending storm that threatned them. The _Hollanders_ within an ace of

losing their liberty by the preposterous care they took to secure it; I

mean, by diverting that family of all power in their government, which,

as it had formerly erected their republick, so now was the only one that

cou’d help to protect it.

The little states and principalities of _Italy_, looking on at a

distance, and not daring to declare themselves in so critical a

conjuncture, when the two keys of their country, _Pignerol_ and _Casal_

hung at the girdle of _France_. In short, the dispeopl’d monarchy of

_Spain_, governed by a soft unactive prince, equally unfit for the

cabinet and the field; his counsellors, who manag’d all under him,

taking no care to lay up magazines, and put their towns in a posture of

defence, but wholly relying as for that, upon their neighbours; like

some inconsiderate spend-thrift thrown into a jail by his creditors,

that smoakes and drinks, and talks merrily all the while, but never

advances one step to make his circumstances easy to him, leaving the

burthen of that affair to his friends and relations, whom perhaps he

never obliged so far in his prosperity, as to deserve it from their

hands.

Here now, says he, was the fairest opportunity that ever presented

itself for a prince of gallantry and resolution, for a _Tamerlane_ and a

_Scanderbeg_, to have done something eminently signal in his generation;

and if in the last century, a little king of _Sweden_, with a handful

of men, cou’d force his way from the _Baltick_ to the _Rhine_, and fill

all _Germany_ with terror and consternation, what might we not have

expected from a powerful king of _France_, in the flower of his youth,

and at the head of two hundred thousand effective men, especially when

there was no visible power to oppose him? But this wonderful monarch of

yours, instead of carrying his arms beyond the _Danube_, and performing

any one action worthy for his historians to record in the annals of his

reign, has humbly contented himself, now and then, in the beginning of

the year, when he knew his neighbours were unprepared for such a visit,

to invest some little market-town in _Flanders_, with his invincible

troops; and when a parcel of silly implicit fools had done the business

for him; then, forsooth, he must appear at the head of his court harlots

and minstrels, and make a magnificent entry thro’ the breach: And after

this ridiculous piece of pageantry is over, return back again to

_Versailles_, with the fame equipage, order’d new medals, operas, and

sonnets to be made upon the occasion; and what ought by no means to be

omitted, our most trusty and well-beloved counsellor and cousin, the

archbishop of _Paris_, must immediately have a letter sent him, to

repair forthwith, at the head of his ecclesiastick myrmidons, to _Nôtre

Dame_, and there to thank God for the success of an infamous robbery,

which an honest moral pagan would have blush’d at. So that when the next

fit of his _fistula in ano_ shall send this immortal town-stealer, this

divine village-lifter, this heroic pilferer of poor hamlets and their

dependancies, down to these subterranean dominions, don’t imagine that

he’ll be allowed to keep company with the _Pharamonds_ and

_Charlemagnes_ of _France_, the _Edwards_ and _Henries_ of _England_,

the _Williams_ of the _Nassovian_ family, or the _Alexanders_ and

_Cæsars_ of _Greece_ and _Rome_. No, shou’d he have the impudence to

shew his head among that illustrious assembly, they wou’d soon order

their footmen to drub him into better manners: Neither, cries a surly

_Englishman_, clapping his sides, and interrupting him, must he expect

the favour to appear even among our holyday heroes, and custard stormers

of _Cheapside_, those merry burlesques of the art military in

_Finsbury-fields_, who, poor creatures! never meant the destruction of

any mortal thing, but transitory roast-beaf and capon: no, friend, says

he, _Lewis le Grand_ must expect to take up his habitation in the most

infamous quarter of _Hell_, among a parcel of house-breakers and

shop-lifters, rogues burnt in the cheek for petty-larceny and burglary,

brethren of the moon, gentlemen of the horn-thumb, pillagers of the

hedges and henroosts, conveyers of silver spoons, and camblet cloaks,

and such like enterprising heroes, whose famous actions are faithfully

register’d in our sessions-papers and dying-speeches, transmitted to

posterity by the Ordinary of _Newgate_; a much more impartial historian

than your _Pelissons_ and _Boileaus_. However, as I was inform’d last

week by an understrapper at court; _Pluto_, in consideration of the

singular services your royal master has done him, will allow him a brace

of fiddlers to scrape and sing to him wherever he goes, since he takes

such a delight to hear his own praises.

I must confess, says another leering rogue, a countryman of his, that

since the grand monarch we have been speaking of, who has all along done

more by his bribing and tricking, than by the conduct of his generals,

or the bravery of his troops, who has plaid at fast and loose with his

neighbours ever since he came to the crown, who has surprised abundance

of towns in his time, and at the next treaty been forced to spue up

those very places he ordered _Te Deum_ to be sung for a few months

before. I must confess, says he, that since in conjunction with a damn’d

mercenary priest, he has forg’d a will for his brother-in-law of

_Spain_, and plac’d his grandson upon that throne, I should think the

rest of Christendom in a very bad condition indeed, if he should be

suffered to go on quietly with his show a few years more: Then for all I

know, he might bid fair to set up a new empire in the west, which he has

been aiming at so long: But if the last advice from the other world

don’t deceive us: If the parliament of _England_ goes on as unanimously

as they have begun, to support their prince in so pious and necessary a

war; in short, if the emperor, the _Dutch_, and the other allies, act

with that vigour and resolution as it becomes them upon this pressing

occasion, I make no question to see this mighty hero plunder’d like the

jay in the fable, of all the fine plumes he has borrow’d, and reduc’d to

so low an ebb, that he shall not find it in his power, tho’ he has never

so much in his will, to disturb the peace of the christian world any

more. And this, continues he, is as favourable an opportunity as we

could desire, to strip him of all his usurpations; for heaven be

praised, _Spain_ at present is a burthen to him, and by grasping at too

much, he’s in a fair way to lose every farthing. Besides, this late

forgery of the will has pluck’d off his old mask, and shews that ’tis an

universal monarchy he intends, and not the repose of _Europe_, which has

been so fortunate a sham to him in all his other treaties; so that the

devil’s in the allies now, if they don’t see thro’ those thin pretences

he so often bubbled them with formerly; or lay down their arms, till

they have made this _French_ bustard, who is all feathers, and no

substance, as bare and naked as a skeleton; and effectually spoil his

new trade of making wills for other people. And this they may easily

bring about, continues he, if they lay hold on the present opportunity,

for as I observed to you before, he has taken more business upon his

hands than he’ll ever be able to manage, and by grasping at too much, is

in the direct road to lose all. For my part, I never think of him, but

he puts me in mind of a silly foolish fellow I knew once in _London_,

who was a common knife-grinder about the streets, and having in this

humble occupation gathered a few straggling pence, must needs take a

great house in _Fleetstreet_, and set up for a sword-cutler; but before

quarter-day came, finding the rent too bulky for him, he very fairly

rubb’d off with all his effects, and left his landlord the key under the

door. Without pretending to the spirit of _Nostradamus_, or _Lilly_,

this I foresee, will be the fate of _Lewis le Grand_; therefore when you

write next to your glorious monarch, pray give my respects to him, and

bid him remember the sad destiny of the poor knife-grinder of _London_.

Thus you see, Sir, how I am daily plagu’d and harrass’d by a parcel of

brawny impudent rascals, and all for espousing your quarrel, and crying

up the justice of your arms. For _Pluto_’s sake let me conjure your

majesty to lay your commands upon _Boileau_, _Racine_, or any of your

panegyrists, to instruct me how I may stop the mouths of these

impertinent babblers for the future, who make Hell ten times more

insupportable than otherwise it would be, and threaten to toss me in a

blanket the next time I come unprovided for your defence into their

company. In the mean time, humbly desiring your majesty to present my

love to the _quondam_ wife of my bosom, I mean the virtuous madam

_Maintenon_, who, in conjunction with your most christian majesty, now

governs all _France_; and put her in mind of sending me a dozen of new

shirts by the next pacquet, I remain,

_Your Majesty’s

most obedient, and most obliged

Subject and Servant_,

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_.

I could give you more instructions in relation to _England_, but not

knowing whether they would be taken in good part, I forbear them for the

present. Pray comfort my dear spouse with a royal kiss, and tell her, I

wait her coming with impatience. Bid my beloved son not despair of

ascending my throne, that is, provided he shakes off the fetters of the

_Romish_ superstition; let him not despond upon account of my unfaithful

servant _Fuller_’s evidence against his legitimacy, for the depositions

of my nobility, which are still upon record in the Chancery, will

easily defeat that perjur’d fellow’s pretended proof, with all honest

considering men. And as for the numerous addresses, which I hear, are

daily presented to my successor against him, he may find as many in my

strong box, which were presented to me in his favour, both before and

after his birth. The last courier brought us news of a pretended

miracle, wrought by my body at the _Benedictines_ church; I earnestly

desire you to disabuse the world, and keep the imposture from getting

ground; for how is it possible I should cure eye-fistulas, now I am

dead, that could not ease myself of a troublesome corn in my toe when

living? My service to all our friends and acquaintance; be assur’d that

all the _Lethean_ waters shall never wash away from my memory the great

services I have received at your hands in the other world; nor the

inviolable affection, which makes me subscribe myself,

_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,

Your most obliged Friend_,

JAMES REX.

LEWIS XIV_’s. Answer to_ K. JAMES II. _By the same Hand._

_Most beloved Royal Brother and Cousin_,

Your’s I received this morning, and no sooner cast my eyes upon the

superscription, but I guess’d it to be written by one of my fellow

kings, by the scrawl and ill spelling. I am glad your account of the

other world agrees so well with the thoughts I always entertained about

it: For, between friends, I never believ’d the stories the priests tell

us of hell and purgatory. Ambition has ever been my religion; and my

grandeur the only deity to which I have paid my adorations. If I have

persecuted the protestants of my kingdom, ’twas not because I thought

their perswasions worse than the _Romish_, but because I look’d upon

them as a sort of dangerous, antimonarchical people; who, as they had

fixed the crown upon my head, so they might as easily take it off, to

serve their own party; and because by that means I secur’d the

_Jesuits_, who must be own’d the best supporters of arbitrary power.

Nay, to tell you the truth, my design in making you, by my emissaries, a

stickler of popery, was only to create jealousies betwixt you and your

people, so that ye might stand in need of my assistance, and be

tributary to my power. I am sorry you are in the company of the three

persons you mention. To get rid of their teasing and reproaching

conversation, I advise you to propose a match at whisk, and if by

casting knaves you can but get _Machiavel_ on your side, I am sure you

will get the better of the other two. Since you mention my owning the

prince your son as king of _Great Britain_, I must needs tell you, that

neither he nor you, have reason to be beholden to me for it; for what I

did was not to keep my promise to you, but only to serve my own ends; I

considered, that an alliance being made between the _English_, the

_Emperor_, and the _Dutch_, in order to reduce my exorbitant power, a

war must inevitably follow. Now, I suppose, that after two or three

years fighting, my finances will be pretty near exhausted, and that I

shall be forced to condescend to give peace to _Europe_, as I did four

years ago. The _Emperor_, I reckon, will be brought to sign and seal

upon reasonable terms, and be content with having some small share in

the _Spanist_ monarchy, as will the _Dutch_ also with a barrier in

_Flanders_. These two less considerable enemies being quieted, how shall

I pacify those I fear most, I mean the _English_? Why, by turning your

dear son out of my kingdom, as I formerly did you and your brother. Not

that I will wholly abandon him neither: no, you may rest assured that I

will re-espouse his quarrel, as soon as I shall find an opportunity to

make him instrumental to the advancement of my greatness. I am obliged

to cardinal _Richlieu_ for the concern he shews for the honour of

_France_, and will not fail to make use of his advice, as far as my

running cash will let me. But I am somewhat puzzled how to manage

matters in _England_ at the next sessions; for my agent _P----n_, by

taking his leave in a publick tavern, of three of our best friends, has

render’d them suspected to the nation, and consequently useless to me. I

wish you could direct me to some trusty _Jacobite_ in _England_, to

distribute my bribes; for I find my own subjects unqualify’d for that

office, and easily bubbled by the sharp mercenary _English_. However, I

will not so much depend upon my _Lewis d’ors_, as to disband my armies,

and lay up my fleets, as you and cardinal _Richlieu_ seem to counsel me

to do. I suppose you have no other intelligence but the

_London-Gazette_, else you would not entertain so despicable an opinion

of my arms in _Italy_. I send you here enclos’d a collection of the

_Gazettes_ printed this year in my good city of _Paris_, whereby you

will find, upon a right computation, that the _Germans_ have lost ten

men to one of the confederates. Pray fail not sending me by the next

post, all the instructions you can think of, in relation to _England_:

for tho’ you made more false steps in this world, than any of your

predecessors; yet I find by your letter, you have wonderfully improv’d

your politicks by the conversation of _Machiavel_ and _Richlieu_. I have

communicated your letter to your dear spouse and beloved son, who cannot

be perswaded to believe it came from you; not thinking it possible that

so religious a man, whilst living, should turn libertine after his

death: I cannot, with safety, comply to your desire of disabusing the

world, concerning the miraculous cure pretended to be wrought by your

body at the _Benedictines_ church. Such pious frauds being the main prop

of the Popish religion; as this is of my sovereign authority. Your son

may hope to be one day seated on your throne, not by turning Protestant

(to which he is entirely averse, and which I shall be sure to prevent)

but by the _superiority_ of my arms, and the _extensiveness_ of my

_power_, after I shall have fix’d my son on the monarchy of _Spain_.

Madam _Maintenon_ desires to be remembred to you, she writes by this

post to Mr. _Scarron_, her former husband, to desire him to wait on you,

and endeavour to divert your melancholy thoughts, by reading to you the

third part of his comical romance, which we are inform’d he has lately

written, for the entertainment of the dead. I remain as faithfully as

ever,

_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,

Your affectionate Friend_,

LEWIS REX.

_From_ JULIAN, _late Secretary to the_ MUSES, _to_ WILL. PIERRE

_of_ Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields _Play-house. By another Hand._

_Pandæmonium the 8th of the month of_ Belzebub.

_Worthy and Right Well-beloved_,

That you may not wonder at an address from hell, or be scandaliz’d at

the correspondence, I must let you know first, that by the uncertainty

of the road, and the forgetfulness of my old acquaintance, all my former

letters are either miscarried, or have been neglected by my

correspondents, who, tho’ they were fond enough of my scandal, nay,

courted my favours when living, now I am past gratifying their vices,

like true men, they think no more of me. The conscious tub-tavern can

witness, and my _Berry-street_ apartment testify the sollicitations I

have had, for the first copy of a new lampoon, from the greatest lords

of the court; tho’ their own folly, and their wives vices were the

subject. My person was so sacred, that the terrible scan-man had no

terrors for me, whose business was so publick and so useful, as

conveying about the faults of the great and the fair; for in my books

the lord was shewn a knave or fool, tho’ his power defended the former,

and his pride would not see the latter. The antiquitated coquet was told

of her age and ugliness, tho’ her vanity plac’d her in the first row in

the king’s box at the play-house, and in the view of the congregation at

St. _James_’s church. The precise countess that wou’d be scandaliz’d at

a double _entendre_, was shewn betwixt a pair of sheets with a well made

footman, in spite of her quality and conjugal vow. The formal statesman

that set up for wisdom and honesty, was exposed as a dull tool, and yet

a knave, losing at play his own revenue, and the bribes incident to his

post, besides enjoying the infamy of a poor and fruitless knavery

without any concern. The demure lady, that wou’d scarce sip off the

glass in company, carousing her bottles in private, of cool _Nantz_ too,

sometimes to correct the crudities of her last night’s debauch. In

short, in my books were seen men and women as they were, not as they

wou’d seem; stripp’d of their hypocrisy, spoil’d of their fig-leaves of

their quality. A knave was a call’d a knave, a fool a fool, a jilt a

jilt, and a whore a whore. And the love of scandal and native malice

that men and women have to one another, made me in such request when

alive, that I was admitted to the lord’s closet, when a man of letters

and merit would be thrust out of doors. And I was as familiar with the

ladies as their lap-dogs; for to them I did often good services, under a

pretence of a lampoon, I conveying a _Billet-deux_; and so whilst I

expos’d their past vices in the present, I prompted matter for the next

lampoon. After all these services, believe me, Sir, I was no sooner

dead, than forgotten: I have writ many letters to the brib’d countries,

of their fore-runner’s arrival in these parts, but not one word of

answer. I sent word to my lord _Squeezall_ that his good friend Sir

_Parcimony Spareall_ was newly arriv’d, and clapp’d into the bilbows for

a fool as well as a knave, that starv’d himself to supply the

prodigality of his heirs. But he despises good counsel I hear, and

starves both himself and his children, to raise them portions. I writ

another letter to my lady _Manishim_, that virtuous Mrs. _Vizoe_ was

brought in here, and made shroving-fritters for the hackney devils, for

her unnatural lusts; but _Sue Frousy_ that came hither the other day,

assures me, that she either received not my letter, or at least took no

notice of it; for that she went on in her old road, and had brought her

vice almost into fashion; and that the practical vices of the town

bounded an eternal breach betwixt the sexes, while each confin’d itself

to the same sex, and so threaten’d a cessation of commerce in

propagation betwixt them. In short, Sir, I have tired my self with

advices to my _quondam_ acquaintance, and that should take away your

surprise at my sending to you, who must be honest, because you are so

poor; and a man of merit because you were never promoted; for your world

of the theatre, is the true picture of the greater world, where honesty

and merit starve, while knavery and impudence get favour from all men.

For you, Sir, if I mistake not, are one of the most ancient of his

majesty’s servants, under the denomination of a player, and yet cannot

advance above the delivering of a scurvy message, which the strutting

leaders of your house wou’d do much more aukwardly, and by consequence

’tis the partiality of them, or the town, that have kept you in this low

post all this while. This perswades me, that from you I may hope a true

and sincere account of things, and how matters are now carried above;

for lying, hypocrisy, and compliment, so take up all that taste of

fortune’s favour, that there is scarce any credit to be given to their

narrations; for either out of favour or malice, they give a false face

to histories, and misrepresent mankind to that abominable degree, that

the best history is not much better than a probable romance; and

_Quintus Curtius_, and _Calprenede_, are distinguished more by their

language than sincerity. Thus much by shewing the motive of my writing

to you, to take away your surprise; tho’, before I pass, to remove the

shame of such a correspondence, I must tell you, that your station

qualifying you for a right information of the scandal of the town, I

hope you will not fail to answer my expectation: Behind your scenes come

all the young wits, and all the young and old beaus, both animals of

malice, and wou’d no more conceal any woman’s frailty, or any man’s

folly, than they will own any man’s sense, or any woman’s honesty.

I know that hell lies under some disadvantages, in the opinion even of

those who are industrious enough to secure themselves a retreat here.

They play the devil among you, and yet are ashamed of their master, and

rail at his abode, as much as if they had no right to the inheritance.

The miser, whose daily toils, and nightly cares and study is how to

oppress the poor, cheat or overreach his neighbour, to betray the trusts

his hypocrisy procured; and, in short, to break all the positive laws of

morality, cries out, _Oh diabolical!_ at a poor harmless double meaning

in a play, and blesses himself that he is not one of the ungodly; rails

at Hell and the Devil all the while he is riding post to them. The holy

sister, that sacrifices in the righteousness of her spirit the

reputation of some of her acquaintance or other every day; that cuckolds

her husband in the fear of the Lord with one of the elect; rails at the

whore of _Babylon_, and lawn-sleeves, as the diabolical invention of

_Lucifer_, tho’ she is laying up provisions here for a long abode in

these shades of reverend _Satan_, whom she so much all her life declaims

against. The lawyer that has watched whole nights, and bawl’d away whole

days in bad causes, for good gold; that never car’d how crafty his

client’s title was, if his bags were full; that has made a hundred

conveyances with flaws, to beget law-suits, and litigious broils; when

he’s with the Devil, has the detestation of Hell and the Devil in his

mouth, all the while that the love of them fills his whole heart; and so

thro’ the rest of our false brothers, whose mouths bely their minds, and

fix an infamy on what they most pursue.

This is what may make you ashamed of my correspondence, but when you

will reflect on what good company we keep here, you will think it more

an honour than disgrace; for our company here is chiefly composed of

princes, great lords, modern statesmen, courtiers, lawyers, judges,

doctors of divinity, and doctors of the civil-law, beaux, ladies of

beauty and quality, wits of title, men of noisy honour, gifted brothers,

boasters of the spirits supply’d them from hence: In short, all that

make most noise against us: which will, I hope, satisfy you so far, as

to make me happy in a speedy answer; which will oblige,

_Your very Humble and

Infernal Servant_,

JULIAN.

WILL. PIERRE_’s Answer. By the same Hand._

_Behind the Scenes_, Lincolns-Inn-Fields,

Nov. 5. 1701.

_Worthy Sir, of venerable Memory._