Letter from Monsieur de Cros: (who was an embassador at the Treaty of Nimeguen and a resident at England in K. Charles the Second's reign) to the Lord ----

In Short

This work is a forceful, indignant letter written by a diplomat, Simon de Cros, to a high-ranking lord. It serves as a point-by-point refutation of the published memoirs of Sir William Temple, a prominent English diplomat of the era. De Cros argues that Temple was neither as central nor as wise as his own writing suggests. By challenging Temple’s account of the Treaty of Nimeguen and the Dutch War, de Cros offers a glimpse into the clandestine, often messy negotiations that actually defined the period’s political landscape.

The Story

The narrative begins with a direct confrontation. Simon de Cros, having read Sir William Temple’s memoirs, feels personally maligned by the way he is described—as a mere "French monk" turned "cunning knave." He asserts that Temple, far from being the architect of peace or the sage of his era, was frequently out of the loop regarding King Charles II’s true intentions. De Cros frames himself as a man who, while serving his own master (the Duke of Holstein-Gottorp), moved through the highest circles of power with more genuine access than Temple ever achieved.

As the argument progresses, de Cros methodically dismantles Temple’s claims about the Treaty of Nimeguen (1678). He rejects the idea that Temple was the sole defender of Flanders or the master negotiator of the age. Instead, he paints a picture of a court in London where the King often maneuvered behind the backs of his own ambassadors. De Cros points to specific moments, such as his own journey to Nimeguen, to show that he was carrying messages of vital importance that bypassed Temple entirely. He mocks Temple for believing that such high-stakes decisions were made in an hour’s time in a mistress's apartment, arguing that the King’s diplomacy was much more deliberate and complex than the published memoirs suggest.

Throughout the letter, de Cros maintains a tone of wounded pride mixed with professional disdain. He defends his own character, rejecting the slurs cast against his religious background and his transition from a monastic life to a diplomatic career. He insists that his service to his master was honorable and that he was never the "devoted" puppet of the French ambassador that Temple portrays him to be. The arc of the piece is one of aggressive self-justification; de Cros wants the reader to see that if he was a "rogue," he was one who operated with the King’s tacit approval, while Temple was merely a peripheral figure laboring under illusions of his own grandeur.

The conclusion is not a reconciliation but a promise of further battle. De Cros vows to write a full volume of remarks—or perhaps his own memoirs—to settle the score properly. He frames his current letter as a warning shot, insisting that the truth of these historical events is far more damaging to Temple’s reputation than anything he has written here. He leaves the reader with a clear image of a bitter, expert insider who feels he has been unfairly written out of the history of the late seventeenth century, and who intends to use his knowledge of secret negotiations to reclaim his place in the historical record.

How It Unfolds

The accusation of vanity De Cros opens by labeling Temple’s memoirs a self-congratulatory panegyric. He contends that Temple’s pride led him to undervalue the work of more capable statesmen, particularly those involved in the intense diplomatic climate of the 1670s.

The challenge to expertise De Cros argues that Temple was an outsider to the King’s most sensitive secrets. He claims that the official dispatches and negotiations were often managed by others, leaving Temple to play a public role while the real work happened in private, hidden channels.

The defense of a career De Cros addresses the personal attacks regarding his past as a monk and his shift into diplomacy. He turns the insult back on Temple, suggesting that his own service was more substantial and that his reputation was unfairly smeared by a man who was, himself, often mocked by the King.

The promise of future revelation The letter ends with a lingering threat to divulge even deeper secrets. De Cros insists that his knowledge of the Treaty of Nimeguen could cause significant trouble for the political figures Temple tries to protect, promising that the full, unvarnished history will eventually come to light.

The People

Simon de Cros emerges as a man of deep, simmering resentment who prides himself on being an insider. He portrays himself as a loyal, effective minister who was unfairly sidelined by Temple’s narrative. His goal is to strip away Temple’s reputation as a "Great Man" and prove that he, de Cros, possessed the real, dangerous knowledge of how the seventeenth century was actually governed.

Sir William Temple is the primary antagonist. To de Cros, he is a vain, self-important diplomat who mistook his own limited observations for the totality of truth. De Cros describes him as someone so obsessed with his own image that he failed to notice when he was being used—or ignored—by King Charles II.

King Charles II appears as a complex, cynical figure. De Cros portrays the King as a master of dissimulation who played with his ambassadors, calling them "rogues" to their faces while using them for his own purposes. He is not the noble monarch of official histories, but a man who kept his true intentions hidden from his own advisors.

Monsieur Barillon, the French ambassador, is used as a foil to show the limitations of Temple’s knowledge. While Temple accuses de Cros of being Barillon’s puppet, de Cros argues that their relationship was far more volatile and independent than Temple could ever understand.

In Its Own Voice

"I am as certain, that he had but a small share in the Secrecy of the late King Charles's Designs in the greatest part of the Affairs, for which he was employed, from 72, till 79, which is the main Subject of his Work."

De Cros argues that Temple’s memoirs lack the authority they claim because the author was fundamentally excluded from the King’s inner circle.

"He set upon me first. He writes out of a Spirit of Revenge, with a great deal of Heat and Passion, and like a Man that believ'd himself touch'd and wrong'd to the purpose."

De Cros justifies his aggressive response by claiming that his own letter is written in "cold blood," in direct contrast to the supposedly emotional and biased nature of Temple’s writing.

What It's Really About

This book is a study in the subjectivity of history and the fragility of political reputations. Beneath the personal grievances, it grapples with the question of who truly controls the narrative of statecraft. De Cros argues that history is not necessarily written by the victors or the most virtuous, but by those who have the vanity to put their own versions into print first. The text highlights the tension between public perception and the clandestine, often unprincipled reality of seventeenth-century diplomacy. It challenges the reader to consider how much of what we accept as historical record is merely the result of one man’s desire to polish his own legacy while disparaging his rivals.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the "inside baseball" of political history will find this an engrossing, albeit aggressive, piece of literature. It provides a rare, unfiltered look at the petty rivalries and deep-seated grudges that fueled European diplomacy before the age of mass communication. The experience of reading it feels like eavesdropping on a high-stakes, historical argument that never quite settled.

The prose is sharp and polemical, though modern readers should be prepared for the dense, polemical style common to seventeenth-century pamphlets. The text assumes a high degree of familiarity with the political figures and specific treaties of the 1670s, making it a challenging, rewarding read for those interested in the minutiae of historical conflict. You will walk away with an appreciation for the sheer bitterness that could sustain a diplomatic feud for decades. It is a reminder that behind the grand, formal treaties of the past were often individuals driven by ego, spite, and a desperate need to be remembered correctly. The book is not for the casual history browser, but for those who want to see the cracks in the facade of great historical figures, it remains a vivid, biting, and highly personal document of its time.