My dear and honorable friend, how could I guess your musulman person had shifted Galata for Flanders, and had passed from the seraglio to the closet of the duke of Cumberland ? But now I conceive it is more pleasant to live with such a prince, than to speak in state to a grand-vizir by the help of an interpréter.
Had I thought it was my dear sir Everard who was secretary to the great prince, I had certainly taken a journey to Flanders. My duty is to visit the place where your nation gave such noble proofs of her steady courage. An historian ought to look on and view the théâtre, in order to dispose the scenery of the work. This would have been a sufficient motive to ask leave of coming to you. But what greater reason, what better motive than my friendship for you ? Who would be so cruel as to deprive me of the pleasure of embracing again my dear friend ? You would have procured to me the honour to see your noble and royal master, and to approach that great prince, whom I admire from afar. I should have learned more in two or three conversations with you, than I could do by letters. Since you are so loath to write, pray, my dear sir, in the name of our old friendship, be not so neglectful. À secretary must be used to write : and the man by whom our letters are conveyed, knows very well we do not talk of politics.
Your kindness to me, your public spirited soul, your passion for your prince’s glory shall induce you to impart to me the instructions I ask of you.
I send you the ninth edition of the poem you speak of : it is but a poem. I have followed there the laws of poetry, more than those of history. Yet you will see with what respect I have spoken of the duke of Cumberland, and what just praises I have bestowed on your noble nation.
Help me to do more justice to both. I beg of you to send me the London Magazine of these three last years. You may easily come at them by writring to London. I desire you would do me the favour to send the paquet, or parcel, to M. de Séchelles, who certainly will send it to me.
- ↑ Éditeurs, de Cayrol et François.
