THE

JACOBITE'S JOURNAL,

BY JOHN TROTT-PLAID, Esq.

N° 15. SATURDAY, MARCH 12, 1748.

To the Writer of the JACOBITE JOURNAL.

SIR,

You have here a translation of a Latin Poem, entitled, De Arte Jacobitica, in three books. I have sent you the English version of the first book, because I have been told that Jacobites are no scholars, and understand no Latin. If you like this, you may hereafter receive the translation of the second book. Mean time, I remain yours, &c. M. O. A. J.

Horace wrote the Art of Poetry, Ovid the Art of Love, and I write the Art of Jacobitism.-Come, Tisiphone, from hell, bring with thee ill-judging zeal, and obstinate bigotry, and inspire me with all thy furies, while I teach the black art of jacobitism. 'Twas thou that didst instruct the holy Inquisitors, and those miscreants that belied the sacred name of Jesus, to embrue their hands in Christian blood: Nor hast thou been unmindful of the English nation: we too can boast our Lauds, our Sacheverels, our ** ok* *ippen*. [Here several proper names were doubtless in the original, but the rats or moths have devoured them.]

First of all, learn the art of lying, and misrepresenting. Fling dirt enough, and some will certainly stick. You may venture to abuse the king himself; but do this with caution, for the sake of your ears and head. But spare not his ministers; give a wrong turn to their most plausible actions. If they prosecute the war with vigour, swear they are neglectful; if they desire a peace, call them cowards; if war, call them blood-thirsty, and seekers after the ruin of their country. 'Twas by such arts as these that the brave Marlborough, and the just Godolphin, fell a victim to the intrigues of Harley and ***. You may add perjury to your lies. Jupiter, 'tis said, laughs at the perjury of lovers; he has many a time forsworn himself to Juno. You have Jupiter for your example: what can a pagan, like yourself, desire

more?

The next thing you are to remember, is to feign a love to your country and religion; the less you have of both, the better you can feign both. O liberty! O virtue! Omy country! Remember to have such expressions as these constantly in your mouth. Words do wonders with silly people; but don't too openly discover your design of ruining your country by changing the religion of it, and introducing arbitrary power and a Popish king. Don't be caught in your own trap. Remember the end of Perillus, who was burnt in his own bull; and you may be ruined yourself before your bring about the ruin of your country. Keep therefore to general terms, and never descend to particulars. You may wish things went better. -You can't tell, but surely 'twas better in good Queen Anna's days-or in the bacchanalian times of Charles-or, in the holy martyr's reign. At the mentioning the martyr, you may drop a tear; and if you are sure of your silly company, you may swear the present ministry cut off his head. Anachronism in politics is no more faulty than ana

chronism in poetry. If you are among good and orthodox churchmen, you may swear the church of England is in danger under a church of England king, and cannot be secure unless the Popish Pretender is restored. Paradoxes in conversation are to be supported with confidence and sophistry. Remember likewise, that you frequently inculcate the divine right of kings to do wrong; and that they are accountable to God only for being devils upon earth.

Various people are to be taken by various methods; and a wise Proteus will turn himself into all shapes. This Proteus, the Fables say, was an Egyptian conjuror, and transformed himself into what monstrous appearance he pleased; he roared a lion, he grinned a wolf, he flashed a fire, he flowed a river. This Proteus be thou; roar, grin, flash, and flow. Spread thy nets, and catch the various fry with various baits. Consider a little the dispositions of mankind; the young are open and honest, the old are cautious and wary. Old birds are not to be caught with chaff; and an old hare will be sure to double.

But you will ask, perhaps, where the proper persons are to be found, to make proselytes of to jacobitism? This is an inquiry worthy a sportsman; for he is a bad huntsman who would beat about the Royal Exchange for a hare or a fox; and not a much better gunner or fisherman, who goes a shooting in Somerset-Gardens, or attempts to angle in the magnificent bason there. As those all know the places where their game resort, so must you. You have no occasion to go with parson Whitefield to Georgia after a young jacobite; but you may go with parson Whitefield to KenningtonCommon or Bagshot- Heath, or Hounslow, in quest of one; for want has made many a man a jacobite, revenge more, and ignorance thousands. Want and penury bid you hope for change. Revenge works stronger in the human heart than even

penury. Who can bear to see a rival prevail ? Hence the affected patriotism of *** and ** and *. [Here likewise are many proper names lost, never to be retrieved but by conjecture.] Ignorance is the mother of jacobitism. Hence the rural sportsmen and fox-hunters will fall an easy prey; and the country will afford sufficient plenty of younger brothers, whose eyes their good mothers have kept betimes from poring on Greek and Latin authors; those Greek and Latin authors which have been the bane of the jacobite cause, and inspired men with the love of Athenian liberty and old Rome, and taught them to hate tyrants and arbitrary governments. London too has all sorts of game for the net. Whores and rogues abound there; many are ruined, and most in a fair way of being so. How many disappointed out-of-place poor rogues do we every day meet? And what universal ignorance, attended with complicated impudence? In short, the variety is so great, that it will even distract your choice.

But above all, in times of public calamities, then remember your lesson; say, God himself is turned our enemy. And if by chance our monarch should meditate new triumphs, and resolve on the punishment of France; then, when William, the avenger, is abroad, do thou raise commotions and tumults at home: Whilst he, all gold, shines in the Gallic plains, carrying in his hand his father's thunder; do thou, all lies, walk the dirty streets of London; and remember, I repeat it again, fling dirt enough; blacken, lie, and defame. Perhaps some Jack Cade may arise in the glorious cause of jacobitism, and. shake the throne itself; while swarms of locusts and caterpillars come from the north, and devour the fruits of England.

Part of our undertaking still remains, and part is finished, here then, let us cast anchor, and moor the ship,

N° 34. SATURDAY, JULY 23, 1748.

-Talem se læta ferebat

Per medios, instans operi, regnisque futuris.

VIRG.

To the Author of the JACOBITE JOURNAL.

SIR,

THE serious truths contained in this letter, will, I hope, make an apology unnecessary. You are to know, that I am of that high order of beings, which the world calls a married man; that to render my state of life happy, as well as honourable, I have, in every thing, submitted to the will of my wife; and this, I can truly say, not more from a conviction of the great duty of obedience, than to avoid contention, and to promote familypeace and good-humour in my house. house. It is now eleven years since the kindest and the loveliest of her sex honoured me with the possession of her sweetness: In all which time, till within a little more than a twelvemonth, she has condescended to make my servitude my delight, abridging me only where my wishes were strongest, and consequently leading to excess; and indulging me in every thing indifferent in my own opinion, or desirable in hers. This uniformity of conduct had rendered us the admiration and envy of all our acquaintance; there was hardly a married woman who visited us, but proposed me as an example to her husband, and treasured up the maxims of my wife, as so many lessons for her own conduct. We were, in short, a couple who left not happiness to chance; one planned what the other executed, and both enjoyed the fruits of our care. Alas! Mr. Trott-Plaid, I wish the business of this letter was only to tell you of my happiness; but that (how