Part 1 — Julia to the Princess of Conti.
Reading edition
AS you may wonder, madam, that I who lived so many ages ago, and at present am so many thousand leagues from you, should esteem and love you; might I wonder too, in my turn, if you should have a good opinion of me, after so many historians have conspired to blacken my reputation. But there are, dear sister, such circumstances in our fortunes, as ought to make us love one another, and hold a friendly correspondence; since you are like me, the daughter of a beautiful, treacherous prince, who drags good fortune at his heels; and of a mother who renounced the world before it did her the injury of renouncing her. I was once the ornament of the court of Augustus, and you now shine like a star, in that of Lewis XIV. I was marry’d very young to Marcellus, the hopes of the Romans; and almost in your infancy, you were given to the most amiable man that ever was of the Bourbons: I lost the son of Octavia some months after our marriage, and your forehead was bound with the fatal sable, before Hymen’s garlands were in the least withered; you are handsome, I was not ugly; you occasion jealousy, and I suffer’d the sharpest darts of destruction: I had lovers beyond number; and who is able to reckon your’s? They have not perhaps been so favourably received; and I believe the air, and want of opportunity, not our inclinations, to be the cause, for you never yet despis’d those pleasures I daily enjoy’d and sigh’d after; and tho’ by the death of Agrippa, I came under the tyranny of Tiberius, I pursu’d my inclinations to the last. Widows of your age generally enter the list again: But, princess, the counsel I have to give you, is, to reserve to yourself the liberty of your choice. There are so many Tiberius’s where you are, that one may easily fall to your share, and after that nothing but banishment will be wanting to finish the comparison. A very malignant [39] planet at present commands your destiny; and ’tis in vain to expect justice from that jealous, ill-natur’d fury. Now I have given you advice, which, if I could return into the world, I would follow myself, permit me to justify my actions.
Historians tell you, I endeavoured to reign in every heart, whatever it cost me, without any regard to the owner’s birth and condition: But do you think that so very criminal? Does a little kindness deserve so severe a censure? Must persons of quality be always oblig’d to have an eye on their dignity? and did not he that made the prince, make the coachman? But what I cannot with patience suffer, is the impudent lie some have made concerning Ovid; that versifyer had a nicer fancy in poetry than beauty; like your father, My dear sister, he imagin’d wonderful charms in grey hairs; for Marcellus was but newly dead when he fell in love with Livia. ’Twas her he celebrated under the feigned name of Corinna; and when he pleas’d, disciplin’d, she, like a child not daring to resist. Thus people being ignorant of closer privacies, invent malicious lies; for do you suppose I would have suffer’d such insolent usage? And that if I had not been strong enough to have cuff’d that rhiming puppy, I would not have found out some other way to have been even with him? You very well see my reasons have some appearance of truth, and I am confident, that when we meet we shall agree very well. The emperor who had his private amours, never troubled those of his wife; and Merena’s spouse, proud of possessing the affections of so great a monarch, returned in soft embraces the favours bestowed on her husband. I have insensibly made you an ingenuous consession; do you the same, madam, for hell is so damnable tiresome, that I gape and stretch a thousand times an hour. When your hand is in, pray send me word what they are doing in your part of the world; but above all, give me a true account of your amours and conquests; for those relations tickle us, even when we have lost the power of acting. Therefore to invite you to be very plain with me, as likewise to divert myself in my present melancholy moments, I will give you some of my thoughts in metre, such as it is.
A mighty monarch you begot, Who’s pious as the devil; Your mother too, by all is thought, To be extreamly civil. Descending from so bright a pair, You both their gifts inherit; All your great father’s virtue share, And all your mother’s merit. When I was young and gay like you, I lov’d my recreation; Mamma’s dear steps I did pursue, And balk’d no inclination. And, madam, when your charms are gone, Your lovers will forsake you; They’ll cry your sporting days are done, And bid old Pluto take you. Thus I have given all trading o’er. And wisely left off sporting; Resolv’d to practise it no more, After my reign of courting.
As reproaching and talking freely is not here discouraged; so had I done any lewd trick, your confessor wou’d have acquainted you with it; for he keeps a strict correspondence with the chiefest ministers of our monarch. You have been jealous where you ought not, and the saints of St. Germains and Versailles, when they come to discover the mystery of your curiosity, will never forgive you. The mealy mouth’d Goddess was always easy to be corrupted, and the old monster Envy prospers but too much; therefore take care of one, and prevent the other, that the sins of others may not be imputed to you. All that the world can say against your virtue, shall never diminish my good opinion of it; and if you do not believe the character I give of myself, consult [40] Calprinede, who has drawn me to the life, and was a great master in that way, as Apelles in his. Farewel, fair princess, and remember that Julia languishes with desire to see you.