Critical REMARKS Upon the ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS Son of ULYSSES.  
Translated from the French.  
LONDON. Printed for H. Rhodes, at the Star the corner of Bride-lane, and A. Bell, at the cross Keys in Cornhill. 1700.   

Critical REMARKS Upon the ADVENTURES OF Telemachus.  
IN truth, Sir, you are a dangerous Enemy; 'tis neither fair nor civil to take so much Advantage of the Power ye have over me. I have my Reasons for my Silence; why should you urge me to Garrulity? I tell you over and over again, all People look upon Telemachus to be an admirable Piece: Never did Hero appear upon the Stage with such an universal Applause. 'Tis witty, delicate, natural, 'tis mysterious and enchanting; what would you have more? Oh! but say you, I do not ask your Sentiments about the relish of the Public; I am sufficiently informed of the great noise which this little Romance makes among the curious; 'tis the Subject Alamode for Conversation; but I desire to know you Thoughts concerning it. To what an inconveniency do you expose me? I must now be looked upon in your Judgement for a ridiculous Manhater, if I cannot discover in this Piece, those pretended Beauties that charm all other Readers. Am I not already sufficiently unfortunate, to be possessed with a cross thwarting Humour, but that I must be obliged myself to reveal my own Shame? All the World admires Telemachus; on the other side, I that can find nothing in it worthy Admiration, yet do myself this Justice, for my want of a good Palate, that I admire my own Stupidity. This I take to be an ingenious way of shifting off the Condemnation of the Piece; and any other Person but yourself would discharge me, after such a Confession. You might blame me for my want of Judgement, without putting yourself to the trouble of exacting my bad Reasons. But I know your Humour in respect of myself; my fantastical Conceits divert ye, and you have done me the Honour to tell me, that you take some kind of delight to see me fencing with the Multitude. It shall not then be said, that 'tis long of my ill Nature, or Momus-like Temper that you are not satisfied. I will then faithfully Copy out the Idea which I have fancied to myself of the famous Telemachus, and give you leave to Laugh, upon condition that you laugh in a corner alone. I have but three Assaults to make upon this impregnable Fortress. I shall first examine the design that sent Telemachus abroad into the World; in the next place, I must attack the Style of this ingenious Fiction: And lastly, I shall endeavour to unfold the meaning of this same satire, altogether Mystical, which as some will have it, the Author has with such a zealous Devotion displayed against the Wisest and most Potent Government that ever was.  
Now then, that I may make my Conjectures, as all others do (for I must tell you, I have no other foundation to assure myself either of the Name or Intentions of the Author) The aim of the Work is Great, Noble and Lofty: To teach a young Prince the purest Maxims of Wisdom, to set Vice before his Eyes in all the hideous shapes of it, to make him relish the lovely sweets of Virtue, to rehearse in his Ears a thousand and a thousand times over, that Wickedness is the cause of all Misfortunes, and that Justice is the Fountain of all Happiness; to form his Mind according to the most lively Lights of Knowledge and Understanding; to render his Heart impenetrable against all Irregularity, this is to conceive a design to raise his Royal Pupil to the Pinnacle of Glory, and to procure the Felicity of the People, who are one Day to live under the Dominion of this young Prince. But with your good leave, has this design been put in execution, in such a manner as to promise good Success? For my part, had I an intention to spoil a young Inclination, I would give such a Youth Telemachus for his Pocket Book. Nor can I disapprove the Raillery of a Courtier, who was saying t'other Day, that if the Duke of Burgundy were wholly guided by this Romance, the Crown of France would be in danger of falling under the Government of a Distaff. They with whom he was joaking, understood no other wit in his Jest, but that he meant Minerva in disguise. But he drove higher, as I understood from one of his Acquaintance; for his meaning was, that if ever a Telemachus reigned, under the Auspexes, and by the Counsels of such a severe Goddess, Vision, Chimaera, and Fanaticism would sit upon the Throne. If you guess, as I make no question but you do, at the Brain that was delivered of this Fancy of a Romance, beware of revealing it: For in jesting with Jupiter's Wisdom, you would ruin the Reputation of a judicious Man, which an illustrious Friend has acquired in the World; there would not be a Wit o'th'Town but would be ready to throw a Stone at him, and all would cry out, that 'twould be better for them to be lodged in a Mad-house than in his great Palace. But since 'tis yours and my Profession not to judge of things by the common relish, let us weigh his Proofs, and see who is in the right, whether he or all Mankind beside. You yourself have told me a Hundred times, that the Labours of Fiction are poisoned Springs, from whence young People know not how to draw, without interesting the Exactness of Discernment, and and without receiving dangerous Impressions against the uprightness of the Soul. Poets and Writers of Romances never speak like other Men, being forced to follow another Road then that of Nature, to arrive at that sublimity which they seek for in themselves, they overdo what ever they go about. The Fire of Imagination, in them, supplies the place of profound Reasoning. But reduce these pompous Descriptions, these glittering Images, this refined Tour to the Terms of good Sense, 'tis only the flash of the Powder that has passed before your Eyes, and leaves nothing behind but the ill scent. Nature and Truth are in the Hands of these Gentlemen to be daubed, and fucussed over as much as they shall think proper for their own Purposes: Never believe that they present before us those two Countenances with that simplicity which is their principal Ornament. They are ashamed to say with the Vulgar, that the Sun rises and sets; that it has been a plentiful Harvest; that the Meadow is covered with Flowers; that the Water is clear; that the Trees are laden with Fruit. Pitiful Expressions that would make those inspired Enthusiasts blush There is a much more noble elevation of Wit to be made use of in explaining to us the Motions of Nature, under the sublime Emblems of Dewy Charies, Crystal, Pearls, Diamonds, and all those other pretty Toys of which our Telemachus is a true Magazine. Is he to commend a good Prince? He is exempt from all humane Infirmities; his Merit surpasses Imagination, and he has performed those Achievements for which there want examples in Story; and the Virtue of that Hero is as inconceivable as Pure Love. It is his business to censure the Conduct of an ill King? there's no mercy to be expected, he is a Tyrant; he has made unjust Wars; he has broken Faith with his Confederates; in the midst of Peace he has surprised 'em, pillaged their Cities, burnt their Houses under ridiculous pretences; he has violated his Oaths, ruined his People; he has invaded the Rights of God, oppressed his most faithful Subjects; he has openly justified Adultery; he is a monster abandoned to his own Obduracy; 'tis in vain for him to have recourse to the Gods, they are inexorable to his Prayers; their anger is just ready to thunder upon his Head; Monsieur the Poet has pronounced the Decree, nor will he bate a tittle of the Sentence. Well, Sir, what do you think on't? d'ye believe a young Prince to be well plaeed in the Hands of such a sort of Guides? Sometimes climbing to the top of a Mountain, sometimes descending to the bottom of a Valley; never moving upon even Ground; to have always a slippery Ice before their Eyes; call you this an easy Road to arrive happily at a Throne? To what purpose is it to create an imaginary World in order to teach a young Prince how to reign in ours? Our Kings are not like Kings upon a Theatre, who only enter upon on the Stage to represent fabulous Persons; They ought to govern according to the Laws, and according to the present time, and this is that wherein they ought to be instructed, without fetching compasses about, and the refinement of Hyperbolical Language. You will not deny but that Kings have more need of Judgement and Penetration than other Men, for they suffer themselves too frequently to be surprised by prejudice; and that crowd of Flatterers which environs 'em is a Rail that Truth has much ado to leap over. How then is it possible for a young Prince to walk in a hazardous Country, where he runs from Phantom to Phantom, from falsehood to falsehood, where he meets with none but Objects capable to seduce a better instructed Reason then his own? Did you never spend a serious thought, Sir, upon these Portraitures so flattering and so apt to tickle the Senses? I am certain you would never, upon such Considerations, expose such charming delusions to the Eyes of your Family, much less, if you have been called to the Prelature, would you do it to any other Person. What shall we say of those Courtesans of Goddesses, amorous even to Transport, pensive, jealous, restless, furious, and sometimes driven to despair? The devotion of the Cretan Women for Venus and her Pleasures? the Passion of Calypso to captivate Telemachus in her golden Tresses, and the fruitless Toils of Cupid to the same purpose? You may look upon these things as Trifles if you please, but in my Opinion, the leading of a young Prince into these slippery places, is in some measure to couple his Mind with Superstition, and expose his Heart to dangerous Attacks; for in short, what a strange method is it for the instructing of a Christian Soul, to teach it down right Paganism, to carry a Disciple into enchanted Places with an intent to infuse into him an abhorrence of Pleasure, to expose him to violent Temptations, with a design to render his Innocence invincible? This is the utmost that a consummate Quietest durst presume to undertake; and yet perhaps, he would find a necessity of entrenching himself well before hand in his passive Condition, to digest his Scruples, and to prevent his consenting to the sweet impressions of Objects. But youth is not sufficiently hardened to those interior Combats, to be led after such a manner into the Fire: We know it has a far greater inclination to Vice then of Virtue: It needs no encouragement to idolise Pleasure; rather, unless it be of an extraordinary Temper, what should incite him to despise it? The reason of a young Man is not ripe enough for Truth; Age and Experience are absolutely necessary to convince him of those noble and great resemblances and agreements wherein this Truth consists: But has the Sense of a young Man sufficient Vigour to resist the Allurements of Voluptuousness? Now then to expose before a young Prince the view of Pleasure almost stark naked, under pretence that it unfolds the Truths of Salvation and Morality, what is this but to enervate his Mind by flattering his Passions? rather is it not as if a Physician should give Poison to a feeble Stomach, to procure the digestion of strong Food? Is not this to corrupt at the same time that he pretends to instruct? This is but a bad sort of pedagogy; however it is Telemachus all over. Mentor speaks the noblest things in the World, I must confess it; but the Author with his Romantic Chain of yolle Stories, destroys the virtue of the Exhortations, like an old Dotard as he is. Mentor preaches up one Holy God, Almighty, Immense, Incomprehensible, and Adorable; the Author teaches a company of vicious Deities, bounded in their Power; Vagabonds, familiar, ignorant and passionate. Mentor corroborates the heart against Sloth and Female tenderness; the Author does all he can to render it Effeminate. Mentor makes Happiness to consist in Virtue; the Author makes it always unfortunate, and introduces the wicked always happy till Death. Mentor would have a King to be just, and that he should Sacrifice himself for the welfare of his People; the Author's Hero's are two Princes, one of which abandons his Subjects to revenge the Quarrel of a Mistress; the other Scaperloiters about the World like a Coxcomb, leaving his Mother and his Country a Prey to a company of Rivals. The parallel would make you stare, should I carry it as far as I could stretch it. Stay but till I examine the Tomes apart, and you shall have more pleasant Encounters to make you merry. In the mean time I beseech ye allow me one thing; That this Piece being an Ambiguous Contexture of Piety and Superstition, of Error and Truth of Figure and Natural, of Vice and Virtue, of good and bad Sense, it favours the Inclination of a young Prince to Evil, and is only fit to perplex and confound his Ideas of Good. But here you will object and cry, this is all but slashing the Air. He that proves too much proves nothing: According to your Conclusions, Youth must be excluded from reading the Poets, and all manner of Fictions, and then the Lord have Mercy upon ye; for all the Regent's of Colleges, and Masters of Schools, would fall about your Ears, and those Pedantic People are a terrible sort of Enemies, who are always in Arms, and their Lashes will fetch Blood through a Choir of Brown Paper. Well, Sir, let 'em be as terrible as they please, their Menaces are not able to terrify me. Thanks to my evil Destiny, I fear neither Eagles nor Crows. But you mistake the sense of my Sentiments, and therefore for your better information, let us argue a little after the venerable manner of the Schools. I offer ye this Proposition. A prudent Tutor ought not, on purpose to compose a Romance interwoven with Sacred and Profane, to form the Mind and Heart of a young Prince: From whence you conclude, that all Poetry is pernicious to young People. But this is no good Logic; for you argue from a Particular to a General. Tho' I had Learning, and Credit sufficient to banish out of Colleges the Illusion and Bombastical Style of Poetry, I would not desire to merit the Name of a Reformer in the Republic of Learning: That Honour would be due to a Person who for Erudition and Delicacy, is none of the meanest Ornaments of the Age: You know who I mean. But I pretend not to go too far. I agree with whosoever pleases to agree with me, that good Poetry may be profitable to Youth in many things; It is an Art that requires Application, and procures to the Wit a Felicity to unfold and penetrate many Difficulties. Salt and Poynancy, which are as it were the Soul of that ingenious Amusement, afford Matter for that which is called Brilliant. Neither are Fictions barren Images; they serve to render the Wit inventive, and Invention is the Mother of public Benefit. But what is all this to my Thesis? Is it less certain, that Poetry and Romances are two Rocks against which good Sense and Virtue split themselves a thousand times, and suffer Shipwreck? For which reason it is, that prudent Masters will never let their Disciples be out of their sight when they give 'em leave to ramble that slippery Tract, so steep and full of Precipices. Have a care they cry, this Idea is false, that Conceit is poor and flashy, that piece of Morality is corrupt, that Example is to be abominated. We only pass these Phantoms slightly before your Eyes, because 'tis fit you should know every thing, and because there is a necessity of submitting to the Tyranny of Custom. What would you think, Sir, after all this of a grave and devout Preceptor who should bethink himself of rammassing all these Follies together, and incorporating 'em into one Romance, with an intention to infuse-into a young Prince his Pupil, a solid Piety, Justice incorruptible, a Patience proof against all Trial, a Courage unsurmountable, a right Sense, and an exact Discernment; in a Word, all the Qualities that might render a King worthy his Distinction. A goodly Catechism you'll say, and presently reply, such a Guide would lay the Snare, dig the Ditch, and make the Bait himself. Nevertheless, this is Telemachus' design, if the public have done him Justice. It may be you will be skirmishing with your Objections against me, and tell me that 'tis lawful for a Tutor to make use of his own Romances, as well as of those which are compossed by theirs, and that provided he order his Disciples to read 'em with necessary precautions, nothing hinders but that his Wit may prove an Honour to him. But what you get by this you may put in your Eye. For a Tutor is made choice of to meet the mischief, not to give occasions for the growth of it. 'Tis his duty to weed away whatever may prove destructive to his young Plant, and not to set any thing near it, that may feed it with ill juice. This Tutor is the young Princes Spiritual Physician, 'tis his Duty to let him know which are good, which are bad Nourishments; but if the Physician should himself prepare dangerous Food for his Patient, in hopes to have the Honour of preventing the ill Consequences of it, think you that would be well done? I am sure, you do not belive that such a man could act with a safe Conscience; nor would you, if once it came to be known, discharge him upon a bare Repentance. Let us drive the Nail as far as it will go. Telemachus is a Composition of Fiction and Truth, of Vices and Virtues, of Good and Evil: The Tutor who is a Man Able, Eloquent, Persuasive and a profound Mystick every Inch of him, employs all the strength of his great Genius to hinder the young Prince from mistaking his course between these two opposites. He makes him understand the Ridiculousness of Ficton, the deformity of Evil, the beauty of Virtue, and the reputation that attends Men of worth: But who has told this Aristotle that his Alexander will believe him upon his Word? If the young Prince be of a temper to be carried away with Hyperboles and Figures; If he be of a merciful Humour, not to let a fair Goddess die for Love; If Cupid subdue him under the Empire of Venus; If he takes a liking to the Religion of the Inhabitants of Craete; If the dispoticism and avarice of Pygmalion do not offend him; And lastly, If instead of taking out all the Honey of the Romance, he sucks out all the Venom, There's a young Prince quite spoiled: and when he comes to be King, his Subjects must be miserable; and all this will be charged to our Tutor's account. Would you believe it, Sir, that this famous Telemachus, upon whom all People bestow their Panegyrics, and strew Flowers, that I may speak like a Poet, by whole Baskets full, should one day prove the cause of most dismal effects, and consequently become the Object of public Malediction? I know that I combat with a Fly, and that the Misfortune will never happen: It may be Telemachus will be better advised then to turn Pedagogue: But tho' he should have aimed at the Education of a Prince so well known to us, there would have been no danger. That Prince is too well born to turn to his ruin what was only compossed for his preservation: But in short the thing is not impossible; and that is sufficient for me to condemn the design which is ascribed to the Work. In a Word, Sir, Why should he not follow the beaten Road? Why should not every Flower be gathered from its own Bed? The true Method of instructing Youth is rightly to teach the distinction of Ideas, by never confounding Matters. Every Instruction ought to be derived from its own Spring: Let Religion be drawn from the sacred Scriptures; Mythology from Fables; The knowledge of Nature from Philosophy; Actions from History; And Morality from the World, which is the great Volume. Upon these different Subjects let 'em a God's name, make as many and as long Commentaries as they shall judge convenient; but let it be done without anticipating one matter by another. For if you once confound 'em, you make a Gallimawfrey that distracts the Understanding of the Disciple; and while you go about to teach him all at a time, he learns nothing as he ought to do. From whence there is so much the more reason why great, Capital, and Essential Truths should never be inserted in Romances. In good earnest, this is to enchase precious Stones in pitiful guilded Clay: Those false Adventures are recounted with an Air of sincerity, exact Circumstances, and all the appearances of Truth. Which way now to prevent a Youth from being deceived? If he believes 'em, he's in a fair way to mistake Error for Truth. Is he then capable of those sublime Speculations and of those noble Maxims which they endeavour to infuse into him? If he be apprehensive of the Fiction, he stands upon his guard against surprise. He reads those things which are least subject to contradiction, as those things which are most remote from good Sense. So that in a well continued Romance, and Pieces well knit together, such as is Telemachus, Falshood becomes an obstacle to Truth, and Truth inclines the Reader to believe the Falsehood. Would you know to whom I compare Mentor in the frequent Exhortations which he gives Telemachus? Even to an Orator that never would pronounce any other then false Panegyrics, nor ever would explain himself but by false Texts. For example, Sir, Mentor preaches like a Doctor in Romances: He raises some Persons to the very Skies, and throws down others to the bottom of Hell: There is not one action that he praises but what is invented; nor is there any one which he condemns which is not Chimerical, what credit is there then to be given to these charming Discourses? When he Dogmatizes like a Plato, Moralizes like a Socrates, and Discourses like a Cato, concerning the Happiness and Liberty of the People, they are like Structures without a Foundation: They are Consequences which being erroneous in the first Principle, fall and themselves destroy themselves. For example, behold an Inference of Mentors' Morality. Such and such were happy or miserable, because, they did so and so; therefore it concerns you as you value your Happiness, and would avoid Misfortune, to do so or so. Should the Disciple answer, such and such were neither Happy nor Miserable but in your Imagination; therefore there is nothing real or solid in your Precepts; What shall the Master say? Well, while he is considering of it, I tell ye what I think of the Style of this Piece.  
You guess no doubt, Sir, what I drive at; and knowing my Genius so well as you do, 'tis easy for you to imagine that I am clearly out of conceit with this sort of Poetical Prose. I do not pretend to refineness of Wit; you are in the right on't, I admire, as another Man would do, when I am spoken to plainly and Politely, provided they speak to me in the Language of Mankind, as three famous Writers in your Holland very luckily do. But when Men pretend to disorder all Nature, never to name an Object without a Figure or a Phoebus at the end of it, my language seems so barbarous that I'm at a stand whether I shall acknowledge it any longer or no. The Poets boast, that their Language is the Language of the Gods. In good truth, they speak better than they are ware of; for from this Confession we may conclude, that neither mortal Men understand them, nor that they understand themselves. However, if they have received by infusion the understanding of what they writ, let 'em write for the Gods as much as they please; Let 'em walk upon Stilts; Let 'em heap Fiction upon Fiction; Let 'em descend from their high flow Jargonry; Let 'em climb up to the Clouds; Let 'em immure themselves within the narrow limits of Measure, Number, and Cadence, we have nothing to say to ' 'em. These are a sort of Birds that make use of their Wings to fly to Parnassus: the beauty of their Plumage is as real as the Divinity of Apollo. That's nothing to the purpose; these Birds have the privilege to support themselves in the Air; let 'em enjoy it; there's nobody envies 'em their Happiness; But let 'em not infect the Earth with their Visions and their Dreams; Let 'em not intrude among us to set Mankind and good Sense together by the Ears. 'Tis not just that falsehood should  itself in the Vestments of Truth, for than what way will there be to distinguish the one from the other? Prose is the natural means that Men make use of to communicate their Ideas one to another, to open their Hearts and intermix their Souls; it is the Vehicle of the light and warmth of Wit, as the Air is the conveyance of the Light and heat of the Sun. Through this the Sciences are transfused; by this the Laws are published and observed, Equity subsists, and Sincerity maintains itself. 'Tis the Language of Society; nor do I know any People in the World that express themselves, that Reason, that Instruct one another or govern in Verse. 'Tis upon this Ground, as I believe, at least I do not know a better, that among clear sighted People there is so much pains taken to polish the Language of the Country: they pair off the mean, impure, excessive and too much figured Expressions: The People are desirous to think nothing but what is solid, they are willing to speak as they think, and they are in the right on't. It may be, 'tis in this Sense that our Authors are so scrupulous about the least Rhyme, and that when they writ, they will stiff a thousand Words, as proper as they are to express their thought, so soon as they have found another that will better suit with the Cadence, tho' not so well with the Sense: I know not whether you have ever examined the Reason of this niceness; but if you will believe Monsieur Jordan, a great Master in Philosophy, 'tis because all that is Verse is not Prose, and all that is Prose is not Verse. But I know this Gibberish will not pass in payment with you for current Money. I am then rather willing to believe, that it proceeds from hence, that Prose being only composed to clear the Wit, and persuade good Sense, it cannot endure any thing that flatters the Ear, or tickles the Imagination. Upon this consideration, Sir, does not your Heart rise against the Versifyed Prose of Telemachus? When the Author of that Romance displays before ye, in his simple and natural Style, yet grave and Majestic, those fabulous Beauties fit only to amaze Fools, or to divert Children, tell me truly, d'ye find one once of that solidity which you search for through the whole Piece? Rather are you not seized with a secret Indignation that a Man should employ a Language that is admired and spoken in almost all the Courts of Europe, in such Fopperies as those? Can it be possible that a Prelate who reasons so profoundly upon Celestial Verities, that neither the Pope nor the King, nor the Bishops understand him, should consecrate his Pen to copy out in serious Prose the Chimeras of the Poets and the most abominable Superstitions of Paganism? How was it possible for a complete Quietist, when he was composing so profane a Piece, to preserve a sight of God, acting immediately upon the Faculties of the Soul? Can the Presence of God inspire him to paint forth a Lie, with a laborious Pencil in the Colours of Truth? Had the Author wrote in Verse, he could not have been altogether excusable, but there might have been less Cause to blame him. 'Tis true, that he could never have escaped the Reproach of having misspent his leisure Hours, in having dishonoured his Profession; and having interrupted mystical Contemplation by vain Amusements. But in short the Reader, having perceived the Style of the Fiction could have been in no danger of a Surprise; 'twould have been taken for a Sport of Wit and Devotion incompatible with innocent Diversion. But to counterfeit an idolatrous Historian, to compose a Romance, representing Truth under the Fabulous Action of Persons exclaimed against in Pulpits, and exploded in private Confessions, truly the Operation was not mystical, neither does it savour at all of the Interior Man. Stop a little, say you, you run too fast— What! d'ye rank Telemachus among the Cassandra's, Claelia's, Cyrus' and Astrea's? Yes, without Question:— Where would you have had me placed him better? I must confess that Wedlock is not the thing that is aimed at there: But it is not for that Reason your devout People have thundered down these sort of Books. If Romance be a Serpent, the Venom lies not in the Tail, it always ends in Conjugal Union:— Nothing is more Civil nor more Natural. Where lies the Poison then?— Is it not in the Intrigues, and tender Movements, the amorous Impatiences— and Copulations obtained with so much Mystery— carried on with so much Secrecy, performed with so much Passion, and, in a Word, in the Management of their Amour? How could an Amorous Commerce be described after a more sensible Manner, than it is done in Telemachus? What is there wanting to delight a Reader, who has a tender Heart? The Declarations, the Rendezvouzes, the Ejaculations of Impatience usual in other Romances, are they not to be found there. 'Tis true, there is no revealing there of secret Favours. But as you very well know, Romantic Lovers are much more discreet than Common Lovers; for their Authors will not let them commit an Error. They are not like the French who never think ' emselves fully happy, unless they publish their good Fortune to all the World; besides that Telemachus might steal something from his dear Nymph, and never let Men know of it. No, Sir, call me Obstinate and Incredulous as long as you please, I will never agree to the Sentiments of the Public. The Public, notwithstanding all the Respect that I own it, is a Backbiter. 'Tis not possible, that a Mystic should be such an Artist in making Love, tho' it was a pure Amour, intended only to lawful Enjoyment. There is too great an Opposition between Sacred and Profane Love. Sacred Love is without Interest, and without return of Reward. on the other side, Profane Love is not satisfied with the Pleasure of Loving; his Generosity is interested, there must be a Reciprocal Return of Body and Soul. What likelihood then, that a Prelate, swallowed up in the Disinterestment of Divine Love, should understand so well the petty Traffic of Lovers? A Quietist lives at Rest without Action; burr two Hearts that love each other are always in Motion. No, believe me, 'tis not the great Archbishop, who is the Author of Telemachus; and could I write with so much ease, as I have Veneration for his Merit, I would stoutly undertake his Defence and write his Apology, though I ran the hazard of having the Lie given me by all that knew the contrary. But to return to my Text, for I perceive that I swerved a little too far from it; 'tis yet more contrary to good Sense, that such a sublime, judicious Wit, so exact and wonderful in his Relish, should bethink himself in our Age to continue the Rhapsody of Homer, and gives us in Prose a true Ogliopodrido of Poetry. Pardon me the Expressions; for here it is that I find my Wrath a little inflamed; insomuch that I could wish myself Proctor General of the Nation, that I might have the Liberty to prosecute the Author. I would summon him to appear before the Tribunal of Good Sense, that he might be fairly and duly condemned to stand in a white Sheet, with a Torch in his Hand, for the Honour of the French, with a Prohibition never to relapse, and put his Countrymen under the Temptation of changing Wit like the the Fashions, and to quit a good Taste for a bad Relish: What, d'ye laugh? You talk at your ease with your Dutch Phlegm. But 'tis in good earnest that I am angry at this Minute, and without any other Form of Process, I condemn Telemachus that is in my Study, to be burnt by all the common Hangmen of France. How! Telemachus that was composed for the Education of the Duke of Burgundy! You mistake sure: The Author had another Design in his Head. As he has a great deal of Wit he had a mind to sport with the Inconstancy of France, and to divertise himself alone behind the Curtain. Do not you call my Conjecture a Vision; I ground it upon the Success of the Work, and if the Author had built upon that Platform, he would have had all the Reason in the World to have been sa, tisfied with his Design. 'Tis in Matter of Wit the French strive to excel other Nations, in judging sound of another Man's Works. They flatter themselves that they enjoy by a certain Privilege that happy Penetration which makes them distinguish Solidity from false Lustre. Never till now did they push on so far this pretended Delicacy of theirs. I know not whether it be with you in your Bogs as it is here. But 'tis a Pleasure at Paris to see the Booksellers Shops full of a Number of Censurers; who decide the Fate of Books like Oracles, and tell ye with an erected Eyebrow, this creeps, that clambers. We are come off from these Simplicities; why should the Press be sullied with such nasty Sotticisms. Men are become altogether Men: they are no longer pleased with any thing but what is Natural and Judicious; we desire something that may instruct us, not amuse us. Yet would you think it, Sir? these rigorous Judges are the greatest Adorers of Telemachus. Those lofty Wits take a singular Delight to see the Sun come forth from the Bosom of his Amorous Theirs, bound from the Arms of his Mistress to get into his Coach, at his leisure make his Tour about the World drawn by his Free-breathing Streeds. Aurora appears charming to them in her Dewie Wain.— Dewie Wain! Mark that: Dew is nothing but drops of Water that fall from the Sky. Nevertheless those Drops make a Wagon— How Natural that is? Venus goes to kiss her Darling Papa, and conjures him with Tears in her Eyes, that he will be pleased that Telemachus may suffer himself to be debauched. The good Papa is mollified; and but for cruel Destiny that gives him Laws, he would consent that Telemachus should become the greatest Whoremaster under the Sky. These are but faint Sketches of the Beauties of Telemachus. If our Correspondence continues, you shall see a great many more. How is it possible to cry down such a Piece of Juicy and Florid Prose! after this, talk no more of our French Men: It belongs only to them to aspire to the Universal Monarchy of Wit. This brings a Fancy into my Head. The Enemies of our incomparable Prince, have given out a long time that he was projecting the Conquest of all Europe. The Calumny was too palpable. The King's Justice and Moderation is too well known, and his Majesty has given illustrious Proofs of in, in stopping several times the Rapid Course of his Victorious Arms, and giving Peace to Europe: The Truth is this, that if Lewis the Great did not seek to be Master of Europe, he was very near being so, till Heaven, whose Designs are profound, and who carries them on by ways unknown, raised as it were out of Nothing, another Prince that was capable of humbling a haughty Potentate, and disappointing the vastest of his Designs. There has something of this Nature befallen our Nation, prepossessed with her own Merit, through the Success with which they have cultivated the Liberal Arts and Sciences and all manner of Learning. She set up for an Arbitratrix of good Relish, arrogating to herself a Prerogative to decide as a Sovereign, the Works of Wit, and pretending that nothing ought to pass for good Sense, but what was sealed with her Approbation. But an unknown Person comes and throws himself in the way, and not being able to endure so much Pride, it comes into his Head to bring her a Pegg lower. What does he do? Like an honest Plagiary, He Pillages the Poets; he pilfers a Dream from one, a wild piece of Dotage from another, to give a kind of Solidity to these hollow Imaginations; he dresses up a Fable Alamode; and let's it run about the Streets; presently behold all the French Men at the heels of it: 'Tis in vain to cry, Stop: This Prose is a Courtesan in disguise; her Dress has no resemblance with what she is. 'Tis the same that you chased and exploded with so much ignominy forty Years ago. No matter for that, she talks better than she did at that time; and her Language infinitely pleases us. But she still repeats the same fooleries: Let it be so; she plays the fool wittily; that's what we would have. Oh the excellent Genius of the French Nation! Have we not reason to reproach her for being fond of her Language, when she prefers it before Truth and good Sense? What reason has she to laugh at the Swisseses? They, good People, pay themselves with words, and provided the Cadence pleases, never trouble themselves about the figuification. Our Admirers of Telemachus, do they not do the same thing? Let us talk with a little more Equity. A Swiss never conttadicts himself; he knows what he loves, and seeks it after his own manner. But the French who cry out every where for Substance, good Nourishment, good Juice, serve their Tables with painted Messes, and devour ' 'em. I excuse this Transport in your Refugees: Not but that I believe 'em to be People of Wit, but their Souls are not in their natural situation. Living as they do without Callings, without Estates, they stand in need of Amusement, and besides that, since the time that you separated from us, we may look upon ye as half Strangers. But that in Paris, the source of Illumination, the Country of Understanding, the Centre of good Relish, they should be so hungry after Telemachus, that they should throw their Lovidores at the Heads of the Booksellers, to carry away that Romance as a piece of value; I cannot in that respect acknowledge myself for a Frenchman, and I'm afraid, that the Age of our August gins to decline in point of Judgement, which would be but a bad Prognostication of the Continuance of the Monarchy. You will not fail to ask me here whither Mentor spoke Greek for me, and whither I could comprehend nothing of the Divine Lessons, which that wand'ring Goddess gives at every end of the Field to her Favourite Telemachus? Yes, Sir, I understand 'em all very well, but I know not whither it proceeded from the dulness of my Wit, or the hardness of my Heart, I was not at all moved with ' 'em. Mentor, who is Wisdom itself, teaches his Disciple to subject the Animal part of his Soul to the Spiritual part; to make himself Master of his Passions, to prefer Conscience and Integrity before all things. What do you find so wonderful in all this? A petty Schoolmaster does it as well: Was this worth the trouble of prostituting the Divinity of Minerva, and making a Gadding Huswife of her, to tell him the simplest and most common things in the World? The Author might have let alone that Daughter of Jupiter to enjoy the Advantages of her Birth in quiet, and have taken the first that came of the Clarks in his Diocese; I speak only by way of supposition. I am sure that with a little good Sense, and easiness to express himself, he might have said as much as the Divine Pedagogue. Wherein consists the Excellency of that Morality which enchants the World so much? In continually repeating the same Precepts? I assure ye, that Mentor had great need of being a God, to succeed in his Persuasions: His Doctoral Style could not be thinner, He neither proves, nor demonstrates the Effect by the Cause, nor the Cause by the Effect. All his Philosophy is reduced to this small Inference: They did this, and were commended, therefore you ought to do so too. They did this and were blamed, therefore you ought to have a care how you follow their Example. Must a Man be cleft out of Jupiter's Skull to say this? 'Tis true indeed, that the fluency of the Words supplies the force of the Reasoning. If it be true then, that a Judicious Reader be no Friend to a Concise Style, than indeed I am too blame, to wonder that Telemachus is so much admired; for instead of including much Sense in few words, 'tis much more when a pompous display of words furnishes us with a relish of good Sense. The Mischif is, that the same Expressions as frequently return as the same Things. Never was Man so wealthy in Synonimous Terms; so that I would willingly adopt in his favour the Eulogy, which an Enemy of the Academy formerly gave to a Member of that Illustrious Body. 'Tis said he, the best dough of Man in the World, he has a number of words which bolts and sifts over and over again, with a wonderful Dexterity. But 'tis now high time that I should have a fling at Telemachus for his Mysterious part; and I agree with you, that this is the Part which makes his Reputation soar so high.  
My business, Sir, is here to penetrate the Intention of our Author. By all the Rules of Probity, my Criticism ought not to go so far; 'tis forbid me to grope another Man's Heart; 'tis a secret part, reserved only for God, a Confessor, and a Confident. Tho' Mentor with his Political Exhortations should visit all the Courts of Europe, that gives me no Prerogative to accuse him of having a design upon any one. Suppose the King should send to ask a great suspected A. Bishop, whether he had any design in Telemachu to censure the Governmen; there is no question, but that laying his hand upon his Conscience, and lifting up his Eyes to Heaven, he would reply, God forbidden: and we ought to believe him upon his word. For Holy Men, and especially Mystical Holy Men, will never tell a Lie; so that had I nothing else to say to ye but that, the Mystery will be at the bottom. But because Men are wicked enough to envenom the Intentions of the most upright. and for that the Public has been so unjust, as to report to our Court the vehement Declamations of Mentor against the Tyranny of bad Princes, I will leave the Author to his own Conscience, and endeavour to root this malignity out of your mind. 'Tis very great; and I must frankly acknowledge, that were they English or Polanders that were to interpret the Intention and discourse of Mentor, I should have nothing to object. Those Idolaters of Liberty look upon us with an Eye of Scorn and Disdain, and are straight upon our Bones if we give Slavery the least good word. As for your Gentlemen Resugees, there's nothing else to be expected from them; exasperated as they are against the King, it cannot be, but that the shadow of a Censute made by a devout A. Bishop must tickle their Hearts. You look upon yourselves as Martyrs for the Cause of God and the Laws: And indeed if Patience, Charity, Humility, Piety and good Living were eminent among your People, your Faith would make the Conscience of the most zealous Catholic tremble: But in short, you believe yourselves the Victims of an unjust Oppression; 'tis no wonder then, you should be so highly pleased with whatever decries the Conduct of your Persecutor; in a word, I pardon you your Commentaries and your Exultations over Telemachus: The least favour that can be granted to Innocent Unfortunates; much less will I quarrel with your Brethren that languish in the midst of us; their misfortune is still greater than yours.  
But I have a secret Grudge against a Crowd of People, who boasting to bear the glorious Titles of Catholic and French Men, profane both the one and the other, by seeking in Telemachus the Censure of our Admirable Government: For I ought not to conceal our Shame: it is certain, that Telemachus has run through France, with as much or more Applause as in Holland: and that which vexes me most is that they writ me word from several Courts, that the Ambassadors make this Book their Favourite Companion; so that if what you send me word be true, that the worthy Minister that we have among you gave order that the Bookseller should be well schooled, I shall have a greater Esteem for him then ever I had, and hope to thank him in the Name of all good French Men, so soon as he shall return. But don't you see, Sir, by this the Character of our Nation, without a Prospective Glass; When the French Men do not love their King, they are insolent; when they obey a Prince whom they adore, even to dotage, they are overjoyed when he is reviled and railed at. But let us see whether there be any ground for the imagining that Mentor has done it in Telemaehus. For my own part, who am a little Scrupulous and who should be very much troubled to think ill of my Neighbour, I had rather believe that the Author of the Romance, filled as he is, with veneration of our incomparable Monarch, has fetched a compass about to draw his Portraiture, and being unwilling to resemble those flattering Historians, who blind the Eyes of Princes with their Incense and their Smoke, he makes Minerva speak in general. To be short, in all that Mentor unfolds to us of the Vettue, Glory and Merit of good Princes, is there any thing which does not presently cause us to think of Lewis XIV.? In the hideous, and extravagant Pictures that Minerva gives us of Tyrants, can we refrain our Joy when we consider, that we have a Prince who is not so wicked as they? But you will not be fatisfied with an Idea so general. I know your Exactness; you must have a particular Account; go too then: The first and greatest Quality that Mentor seeks in a good Prince is, that he should live only for the sake of his Subjects. Does not the King do so? 'Tis only out of a desire to reign over his Subjects, that he desires to live, and he will Reign to the last gasp of his Breath, or else he would not be Master. Mentor would have it, that the Prince should be the Father of his Country, and love his Subjects with as much tenderness as his own Children. Well, Sir, d' ye not see his Majesty to the Life in all this? People judge of the Tenderness of a Father by his extraordinary zeal, to seek the good of his Children: Now I defy you and all your Historians to find me out, since the foundation of Royalty, a Prince that has longer and more successfully applied himself, as well in Person as by his Ministers, to seek the welfare of his Subjects; I mean their Spiritual and Temporal Welfare: and to prove it to ye, for with a Huguenot, we must be sure to have good proofs for what we say; do not you conceive; Sir, that the true welfare of the People consists in Plenty? Riches perhaps are a more dangerous Enemy; they are only fit to enfeeble natural Vigour, to feed Passion and hasten Death. The chief Happiness of Life is to be Master of his own Hearth, to eat his Bread in Peace under the protection of Justice: Now are not we beholding to the King's Bounty for this inestimable Blessing? When he ascended the Throne, he found Subjects that knew not how to make use of Fortune's Favours: Money was in their hands, like a Knife in the Hand of a Madman. Troubles, Disorders, Rebellion was all the Talk of that Time: The Nobleman oppressed the Peasant; the Great men made the Little Ones turn about with the wind of their Pride and Capriccio; the Stronger gave Laws to the Weaker; From whence Duels, Murders, Robberies, Injustice and Violence multiplied; the People swelled up with their own fat, no longer acknowledged any Master; or to speak more properly, they groaned under the Yoke of an infinite number of petty Tyrants, & forgot their Respect to their lawful Sovereign. The Princes, Governors, Parliaments, the Men in Credit, all these were like so many Flambeaux, that kindled and fed the Fire of Revolt, under the specious pretence of maintaining the Law, and the preservation of Liberty: Good Pleasure, full Power and Sovereign Authority, depended upon all these Heads; and when Abuses were to be reformed, or Money was to be raised to supply the Public Necessities, the Royal Majesty was exposed to Affront or Refusal. Our Prudent Father of his Country has plucked up all these Mischiefs by the Roots, as a prudent Head of a Family ought to do: he has made himself Master of the whole. By that means his Kingdom is like a House well regulated, where the Father disposing of the whole Estate, retains every body in Order, in Subjection and in their Duty. Do we see any discontented Prince under Lewis the Great, betake himself to Arms to do himself Justice? Do we see Governors draw whole Provinces after 'em, contrary to the Interest of the Sovereign? Do we behold Seditious Libels presented in an Assembly by the People's Deputies? Do we hear of any sharp and Stinging Remonstrances from a Parliament? So far from it, that the Ambition of Princes is calmed, the Governors are submissive, the Parliaments set open their Registers, the People have no more to do but to open their Purses; absolute Power spreads its Influences every where, and every body libes in peace under his own Figtree. This Sir, is that; which among the Heroes is called seeking the Temporal good of the People. You Dutchmen with your shadow of Liberty, have no mind to agree to this. You look upon all us as Slaves and Beggars. 'Tis true our People are not so fat as yours, nor our Country Peasants so rich: But if Murders and insurrections should happen among you, is it not true, that you would wish to be in our places. Besides, you are not to imagine that our Prince heaps up abundance and draws it to himself, to make a benefit of it, but to be a good Steward and a just Dispenser of it. Do you not see that he labours still under the same Necessities, that his Edicts observe their Course, and that tho' he be actually at peace, he is constrained to augment the Taxes? What does he do, say you, with those prodigious Numbers of Millions that go every Year into his Coffers? He generously divides a Part to those who have the Honour to serve him, and principally to those notable Headpieces that manage the Finances: He maintains sormidable Armies that make him the Arbiter of the Laws, and the Terror of his Neighbours: He enlarges his Palaces, and makes Embellishments there, that surpass even wonder itself: He reforms Nature, by levelling Hills and digging new Rivers. Has he not need of Immense Sums for those incomparable Beauties, who had Charms sufficient to engage his Heart, and oft refreshed him, wearied with the Toils of Government? How many Cities purchased? How many Spies maintained abroad? I say nothing of his famous Trafficking at Constantinople; which if it were not the most famous of all, was yet the most beneficial to France. There is no need for me to inform ye at this time how our great King has sought, and still seeks the Spiritual Welfare of his Subjects; you that are an Obstinate Heretic know it too well: but the hardness of your Heart will not permit you to reap the Benefit of it; and this Pious Monarch stays but till the day of Judgement to reproach you with it. Mentor would have a King be just; ours is so.  
He has made Restitution in earnest, and restored to every one the best part of what belonged to him. Just, do you say, to his People? Yes, juster than to his Enemies? The same is Lewis the Grand: If we understand by Justice that which is rendered in Tribunals; never Prince was so exactly careful in his Administration. He has turned out, and turned in all Officers of all sorts and sifted their Employments. He has created new ones in Superior and Inferior Jurisdictions; and if the Judges are the Eyes of a Prince, as some will have it, it may be said without Flattery, that Lewis the XIV. is the most quicksighted among Monarches. If we mean Justice that a King ought to render himself to his Subjects, 'tis that which our Prince never failed of. The French love Money, and when they have it can never live at quiet; they love Honour, and feed ' emselves with it. What has our Prince done? He has taken away their Money, and given 'em Quiet and Honour in Exchange. Is not the one better than the other? The French love their Trade; but as a good Catholic People, they love their Religion better. The King has spoiled Trade, but he has exterminated Hugnenotism, have the People any reason to complain? You shall hear a French Peasant, that can hardly pay his Taxes, chatting after his Rustical Manner, over a Pint of Wine of the King's Conquests and Victories; and then is he in his Kingdom. I hold an even Wager, he would not change his Condition with one of the Burgo-Masters. Had you seen, in the time of the War our Beggars dancing about a Bonfire, you would agree with me, that Poverty becomes a French Man, and that it is but Justice to reduce him to that Condition. But lastly, one convining Proof of the King's great Justice is, that the People never complain. You who so regularly read the Gazette, have you ever observed that the People cry out for Bread, or that they murmured at the scarcity of Money, or pasted up Pasquil's, injurious to the Court? 'Tis true, the Gazetters and News Papers mention some such thing sometimes; but as we are not obliged to keep Faith with Hugnenots, so there is as little reason to credit ' 'em. Mentor declaims against unjust War; Is there any such? The Right of War is authorised by the Possession of all Ages. Alexander is not quoted in History for a Robber, nor the Romans for Usurpers; were it so, the Pulpits would not ring so often as they do with their Names; and the Preachers would have a care how they sulyed their Sacred Eloquence, by extolling every Day thd Noble Actions of those famous Conquerors. The King made use of this Right as another would have done. His Majesty has extended his Frontiers, he has conquered Cities and Provinces, and acting with more sincerity than those ancient Lords of the World, who took all and restored nothing, the King has restored more than he took, and has kept nothing but what he could not restore. But who told these Interpreters of Telemachus that our King ever undertook an unjust war. Let 'em consult all the Declarations of War that have been published since the King's Marriage; I am sure they will not find one that does not contain a great deal of Reason. That concerning bad Satisfaction which one of our illustrious Deserters explained among you with his usual Delicacy, is may be the weakest of all. But they who penetrate the Reasons of that bad Satisfaction, agree that the Complaint was not altogether ill grounded.  
You see then that Telemachus is not more happy in his Mysterious Part, then in his Designs and his Style. But to give something to the Public; I suppose with them, that Mentor's Politics are the Reverse of the Government, and that 'tis that which has caused the disgrace of the A. Bishop of Cambray. Do you not believe with myself, that Mentor's King is a Fantastic King, and that if Princes would reign according to the Memoirs of that old Dr. Minerva must have descended to the Earth to overturn the World. If a King should observe all those divine Precepts, he would become a Victim to his People, and his Condition would be worse than that of a private Person; I wish all Nations one of Mentor's Prince: but where will you find him: Mentor would have a King without Infirmities and Passions: Is this possible; King's being Masters, and always Flesh and Blood, 'tis impossible but that they should be subject to notorious Vices. An ambitious King ruins his People by War. A voluptuous Prince can give no good Example. A covetous King will suck the Blood of his Subjects. A Heart of Iron will never be moved to Compassion. A proud and despotic Prince will domineer over all Mankind. A Prince prejudicated with a false Zeal will persecute to death; and so of other Defects. 'Tis for the People to lay down their Necks, and bear the Burden. These, Sir, are the General Remarks which I have made in Reading your Telemachus. You will hence conclude, that there is no great Matter in the Piece, or that I am but a Novice in these Matters. However, I shall comfort myself with a full Persuasion, that I have said nothing but what is true, and with the delight which I shall take in having obeyed your Orders. If you think fit, burn this little Epistle, and take a special Care that no Refugee may see it. Those Gentlemen never love the Apologists of our Court; and as I have a great Esteem for their Perseverance, I should be very much troubled to incur their Displeasure. Farewell, Sir, you know I am yours, ad Aras & Focos. The rest by the Porter.— Paris, etc.  
FINIS.