Part 1 — 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.