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 '
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 A 
 
 JOHN FISKE
 
 3 TAT 
 
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 PRINTED BY T. BENSLEY. 
 
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 797-
 
 JUNIUS, 
 
 STAT NOM1NIS UMBRA. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED ST T. BENSLET, 
 FOR VERNOH AND HOOD, BIRCHIN-LANE. 
 
 1796.
 
 -02 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 ENGLISH NATION. 
 
 I DEDICATE to yOU a Col- 
 
 lection of Letters written by one of 
 yourselves for the common benefit of 
 us all. They would never have grown 
 to this size without your continued en- 
 couragement and applause. To me they 
 originally owe nothing but a healthy, 
 sanguine constitution. Under your care 
 they have thriven. To you they are 
 indebted for whatever strength or beau- 
 ty they possess. When kings and mi- 
 nisters are forgotten, when the force 
 and direction of personal satire is no 
 
 I a
 
 11 
 
 longer understood, and when measures 
 are only felt in their remotest conse- 
 quences, this book will, I believe, be 
 found to contain principles worthy to 
 be transmitted to posterity. When you 
 leave the unimpaired, hereditary free- 
 hold to your children, you do but half 
 your duty. Both liberty and property 
 are precarious, unless the possessors 
 have sense and spirit enough to defend 
 them. This is not the language of va- 
 nity. If I am a vain man, my gratifi- 
 cation lies within a narrow circle. I 
 am the sole depositary of my own se- 
 cret, and it shall perish with me. 
 
 If an honest, and I may truly affirm 
 a laborious, zeal for the public service 
 has given me any weight in your es- 
 teem, let me exhort and conjure you 
 never to suffer an invasion of your po- 
 litical constitution, however minute the 
 instance may appear, to pass by, with-
 
 Ill 
 
 out a determined persevering resistance. 
 One precedent creates another. They 
 soon accumulate, and constitute law. 
 What yesterday was fact, to day is doc- 
 trine. Examples are supposed to jus- 
 tify the most dangerous measures, and 
 where they do not suit exactly, the de- 
 fect is supplied by analogy. Be assured 
 that the laws which protect us in our 
 civil rights, grow out of the constitu- 
 tion, and that they must fall or flourish 
 with it. This is not the cause of fac- 
 tion, or of party, or of any individual, 
 but the common interest of every man 
 in Britain. Although the king should 
 continue to support his present system 
 of government, the period is not very 
 distant at which you will have the 
 means of redress in your own power. 
 It may be nearer perhaps than any of 
 us expect, and I would warn you to be 
 prepared for it. The king may possibly 
 be advised to dissolve the present par-
 
 IV 
 
 liament a year or two before it expires 
 of course, and precipitate a new elec- 
 tion, in hopes of taking the nation by 
 surprise. If such a measure be in agi- 
 tation, this very caution may defeat or 
 prevent it. 
 
 I cannot doubt that you will unani- 
 mously assert the freedom of election, 
 and vindicate your exclusive right to 
 choose your representatives. But other 
 questions have been started, on which 
 your determination should be equally 
 clear and unanimous. Let it be impress- 
 ed upon your minds, let it be instilled 
 into your children, that the liberty of 
 the press is the palladium of all the ci- 
 vil, political, and religious rights of an 
 Englishman, and that the right of juries 
 to return a general verdict, in all cases 
 whatsoever, is an essential part of our 
 constitution, not to be controuled or 
 limited by the judges, nor in any shape
 
 questionable by 'the legislature. The 
 power of king, lords, and commons, 
 is not an arbitrary power. a They are 
 the trustees, not the owners, of the es- 
 tate. The fee-simple is in us. They 
 cannot alienate, they cannot waste. 
 When we say that the legislature is 
 supreme, we mean that it is the highest 
 power known to the constitution; that 
 it is the highest in comparison with the 
 other subordinate powers established by 
 the laws. In this sense the word su- 
 preme is relative, not absolute. The 
 power of the legislature is limited, not 
 only by the general rules of natural jus- 
 tice, and the welfare of the community, 
 but by the forms and principles of our 
 particular constitution. If this doctrine 
 be not true, we must admit that king, 
 lords, and commons, have no rule to 
 direct their resolutions, but merely 
 their own will and pleasure. They 
 might unite the legislative and execu-
 
 VI 
 
 tive power in the same hands, and dis- 
 solve the constitution by an act of par- 
 liament. But I am persuaded you will 
 not leave it to the choice of seven hun- 
 dred persons, notoriously corrupted by 
 the crown, whether seven millions of 
 their equals shall be freemen or slaves. 
 The certainty of forfeiting their own 
 rights, when they sacrifice those of the 
 nation, is no check to a brutal degene- 
 rate mind. Without insisting upon the 
 extravagant concession made to Harry 
 the eighth, there are instances, in the 
 history of other countries, of a formal, 
 deliberate surrender of the public liberty 
 into the hands of the sovereign. If 
 England does not share the same fate, 
 it is because we have better resources 
 than in the virtue of either house of 
 parliament. 
 
 I said that the liberty of the press is 
 the palladium of all your rights, and
 
 Vll 
 
 that the right of the juries to return a 
 general verdict is part of your constitu- 
 tion. To preserve the whole system, 
 you must correct your legislature. With 
 regard to any influence of the consti- 
 tuent over the conduct of the represen- 
 tative, there is little difference between 
 a seat in parliament for seven years and 
 a seat for life. The prospect of your 
 resentment is too remote ; and although 
 the last session of a septennial parlia- 
 ment be usually employed in courting 
 the favour of the people, consider that, 
 at this rate, your representatives have 
 six years for offence, and but one for 
 atonement. A death-bed repentance sel- 
 dom reaches to restitution. If you re- 
 flect that in the changes of administra- 
 tion which have marked and disgraced 
 the present reign, although your warm- 
 est patriots have in their turn been in- 
 vested with the lawful and unlawful 
 authority of the crown, and though
 
 Till 
 
 other reliefs or improvements have been 
 held forth to the people, yet that no one 
 man in office has ever promoted or en- 
 couraged a bill for shortening the dura- 
 tion of parliaments, but that (whoever 
 was minister) the opposition to this 
 measure, ever since the septennial act 
 passed, has been constant and uniform 
 on the part of government. You can- 
 not but conclude, without the possi- 
 bility of a doubt, that long parliaments 
 are the foundation of the undue influ- 
 ence of the crown. This influence an- 
 swers every purpose of arbitrary power 
 to the crown, with an expence and op- 
 pression to the people which would be 
 unnecessary in an arbitrary government. 
 The best of our ministers find it the 
 easiest and most compendious mode of 
 conducting the king's affairs; and all 
 ministers have a general interest in ad- 
 hering to a system which of itself is 
 sufficient to support them in office,
 
 IX 
 
 without any assistance from personal 
 virtue, popularity, labour, abilities, or 
 experience. It promises every gratifi- 
 cation to avarice and ambition, and se- 
 cures impunity. These are truths un- 
 questionable. If they make no impres- 
 sion, it is because they are too vulgar 
 and notorious. But the inattention or 
 indifference of the nation has continued 
 too long. You are roused at last to a 
 sense of your danger. The remedy will 
 soon be in your power. If Junius lives, 
 you shall often be reminded of it. If, 
 when the opportunity presents itself, 
 you neglect to do your duty to your- 
 selves and to posterity, to God and to 
 your country, I shall have one consola- 
 tion left, in common with the meanest 
 and basest of mankind. Civil liberty 
 may still last the life of 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THIS edition contains all the let- 
 ters of Junius, Philo Junius, and of sir Wil- 
 liam Draper and Mr. Home to Junius, with 
 their respective dates, and, according to the 
 order in which they appeared in the Public 
 Advertiser. The auxiliary part of Philo Ju- 
 nius was indispensably necessary to defend 
 or explain particular passages in Junius, in 
 answer to plausible objections ; but the sub- 
 ordinate character is never guilty of the in- 
 docorum of praising his principal. The fraud 
 was innocent, and I always intended to ex- 
 plain it. The notes will be found not only 
 useful, but necessary. References to facts not 
 generally known, or allusions to the current 
 report or opinion of the day, are in a little
 
 Xll 
 
 time unintelligible. Yet the reader will not 
 find himself overloaded with explanations. 
 I was not born to be a commentator, even 
 upon my own works. 
 
 It remains to say a few words upon the 
 liberty of the press. The daring spirit by 
 which these letters are supposed to be dis- 
 tinguished, seems to require that something 
 serious should be said in their defence. I am 
 no lawyer by profession, nor do I pretend to 
 be more deeply read than every English gen- 
 tleman should be in the laws of his country. 
 If, therefore, the principles I maintain are 
 truly constitutional, I shall not think myself 
 answered, though I should be convicted of 
 a mistake in terms, or of misapplying the 
 language of the law. I speak to the plain 
 understanding of the people, and appeal to 
 their honest, liberal construction of me. 
 
 Good men, to whom alone I address my- 
 self, appear to me to consult their piety as 
 little as their judgment and experience, when 
 they admit the great and essential advantages
 
 Xlll 
 
 accruing to society from the freedom of the 
 press, yet indulge themselves in peevish or 
 passionate exclamations against the abuses of 
 it. Betraying an unreasonable expectation 
 of benefits, pure, and intire, from any human 
 institution, they in effect arraign the good- 
 ness of Providence, and confess that they are 
 dissatisfied with the common lot of huma- 
 nity. In the present instance they really 
 create to their own minds, or greatly exag- 
 gerate the evil they complain of. The laws 
 of England provide, as effectually as any hu- 
 man laws can do, for the protection of the 
 subject, in his reputation, as well as in his 
 person and property. If the characters of 
 private men are insulted or injured, a double 
 remedy is open to them, by action and in- 
 dictment. If, through indolence, false shame, 
 or indifference, they will not appeal to the 
 Jaws of their country, they fail in their duty 
 to society, and are unjust to themselves. If, 
 from an unwarrantable distrust of the inte- 
 grity of juries, they would wish to obtain 
 justice by any mode of proceeding more sum- 
 mary than a trial by their peers, I do not
 
 XIV 
 
 scruple to affirm, that they are in effect 
 greater enemies to themselves than to the 
 libeller they prosecute. 
 
 With regard to strictures upon the cha- 
 racters of men in office and the measures of 
 government, the case is a little different. A 
 considerable latitude must be allowed in the 
 discussion of public affairs, or the liberty of 
 the press will be of no benefit to society. 
 As the indulgence of private malice and 
 personal slander should be checked and re- 
 sisted by every legal means, so a constant 
 examination into the characters and conduct 
 of ministers and magistrates should be equally 
 promoted and encouraged. They who con- 
 ceive that our newspapers are no restraint 
 upon bad men, or impediment to the exe- 
 cution of bad measures, know nothing of 
 this country. In that state of abandoned ser- 
 vility and prostitution to which the undue 
 influence of the crown has reduced the other 
 branches of the legislature, our ministers and 
 magistrates have in reality little punishment 
 to fear, and few difficulties to contend with,
 
 XV 
 
 beyond the censure of the press, and the spi- 
 rit of resistance which it excites among the 
 people. While this censorial power is main- 
 tained, to speak in the words of a most inge- 
 nious foreigner, both minister and magistrate 
 is compelled, in almost eveiy instance, to 
 choose between his duty and his reputation. 
 A dilemma of this kind, perpetually before 
 him, will not indeed work a miracle upon 
 his heart, but it will assuredly operate, in 
 some degree, upon his conduct. At all 
 events, these are not times to admit of any re- 
 laxation in the little discipline we have left. 
 
 But it is alledged, that the licentiousness 
 of the press is carried beyond all bounds of 
 decency and truth : that our excellent mi- 
 nisters are continually exposed to the public 
 hatred or derision ; that, in prosecutions for 
 libels on government, juries are partial to the 
 popular side ; and that, in the most flagrant 
 cases, a verdict cannot be obtained for the 
 king. If the premises were admitted, I 
 should deny the conclusion. It is not true 
 that the temper of the times has in general
 
 XVI 
 
 an undue influence over the conduct of ju- 
 ries. On the contrary, many signal in- 
 stances may be produced of verdicts returned 
 for the king, when the inclinations of the 
 people led strongly to an undistinguished op- 
 position to government. Witness the cases 
 of Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Almon. In the late 
 prosecutions of the printers of my address to 
 a great personage, the juries were never fairly 
 dealt with. Lord chief justice Mansfield, 
 conscious that the paper in question con- 
 tained no treasonable or libellous matter, and 
 that the severest parts of it, however painful 
 to the king, or offensive to his servants, were 
 strictly true, would fain have restricted the 
 jury to the finding of special facts, which, as 
 to guilty or not guilty, were merely indif- 
 ferent. This particular motive, combined 
 with his general purpose to contract the 
 power of juries, will account for the charge 
 he delivered in WoodfalTs trial. He told 
 the jury, in so many words, that they had 
 nothing to determine except the fact of print- 
 ing and publishing, and whether or no the 
 blanks, or inuendoes, were properly filled up
 
 XV11 
 
 in the information ; but that, whether the 
 defendant had committed a crime or not, was 
 no matter of consideration to twelve men 
 who, yet upon their oaths, were to pronounce 
 their peer guilty or not guilty. When we 
 hear such nonsense delivered from the bench, 
 and find it supported by a laboured train of 
 sophistry which a plain understanding is un- 
 able to follow, and which an unlearned jury, 
 however it may shock their reason, cannot 
 be supposed qualified to refute, can it be 
 wondered that they should return a verdict 
 perplexed, absurd, or imperfect ? Lord Mans- 
 field has not yet explained to the world why 
 he accepted of a verdict which the court af- 
 terwards set aside as illegal, and which, as it 
 took no notice of the inuendoes, did not even 
 correspond with his own charge. If he had 
 known his duty he should have sent the jury 
 back. I speak advisedly, and am well as- 
 sured that no lawyer of character in West- 
 minster-hall will contradict me. To shew 
 the falsehood of lord Mansfield's doctrine, it 
 is not necessary to enter into the merits of 
 the paper which produced the trial. If every
 
 xviii 
 
 line of it were treason, liis charge to the jury 
 would still be false, absurd, illegal, and un- 
 constitutional. If I stated the merits of my 
 letter to the king, I should imitate lord 
 Mansfield, h and travel out of the record. 
 When law and reason speak plainly, we do 
 not want authority to direct our understand- 
 ings. Yet, for the honour of the profession, 
 I am content to oppose one lawyer to another, 
 especially when it happens that the king's 
 attorney general has virtually disclaimed the 
 doctrine by which the chief justice meant to 
 insure success to the prosecution. The opi- 
 nion of the plaintiff's counsel (however it 
 may be otherwise insignificant) is weighty in 
 the scale of the defendant. My lord chief 
 justice De Grey, who filed the information 
 ex offtcio, is directly with me. If he had 
 concurred in lord Mansfield's doctrine, the 
 trial must have been a very short one. The 
 facts were cither admitted by Mr. Woodfall's 
 counsel, or easily proved to the satisfaction 
 of the jury. But Mr. De Grey, far from 
 thinking he should acquit himself of his duty 
 by barely proving the facts, entered largely,
 
 XIX 
 
 and I confess not without ability, into the 
 dements of the paper which he called a se- 
 ditious libel. He dwelt but light upon those 
 points which (according to lord Mansfield) 
 were the only matter of consideration to the 
 jury. The criminal intent, the libellous mat- 
 ter, the pernicious tendency of the paper it- 
 self, were the topics on which he principally 
 insisted, and of which, for more than an 
 hour, he tortured his faculties to convince 
 the jury. If he agreed in opinion with lord 
 Mansfield, his discourse was impertinent, ri- 
 diculous, and unreasonable. But understand- 
 ing the law as I do, what he said was at least 
 consistent and to the purpose. 
 
 If any honest man should still be inclined 
 to leave the construction of libels to the court, 
 I would intrcat him to consider what a dread- 
 ful complication of hardships he imposes 
 upon his fellow subject. In the first place, 
 the prosecution commences by information 
 of an officer of the crown, not by the regular 
 constitutional mode of indictment before a 
 grand jury. As the fact is usually admitted,,
 
 XX 
 
 or in general can easily be proved, the office 
 of the petty jury is nugatory. The court 
 then judges of the nature and extent of the 
 offence, and determines ad arbitrium, the 
 quantum of the punishment, from a small 
 fine to a heavy one, to repeated whipping, to 
 pillory, and unlimited imprisonment. Cut- 
 ting off ears and noses might still be inflicted 
 by a resolute judge ; but I will be candid 
 enough to suppose that penalties, so appa- 
 rently shocking to humanity, would not be 
 hazarded in these times. In all other crimi- 
 nal prosecutions the jury decides upon the 
 fact and the crime in one word, and the 
 court pronounces a certain sentence, which 
 is the sentence of the law, not of the judge. 
 If lord Mansfield's doctrine be received, the 
 jury must either find a verdict of acquittal, 
 contrary to evidence (which, I can conceive, 
 might be done by very conscientious men, 
 rather than trust a fellow-creature to lord 
 Mansfield's mercy), or they must leave to 
 the court two offices, never but in this in- 
 stance united, of finding guilty, and awarding 
 punishment.
 
 XXI 
 
 But, says this honest lord chief justice, 
 ' If the paper be not criminal, the defendant' 
 (though found guilty by his peers) ' is in no 
 
 * danger, for he may move the court in arrest 
 
 * of judgment.' True, my good lord, but 
 who is to determine upon the motion? Is 
 not the court still to decide, whether judg- 
 ment shall be entered up or not ; and is not 
 the defendant this way as effectually deprived 
 of judgment by his peers as if he were tried 
 in a court of civil law, or in the chambers of 
 the inquisition ? It is you, my lord, who then 
 try the crime, not the jury. As to the pro- 
 bable effect of the motion in arrest of judg- 
 ment, I shall only observe, that no reason- 
 able man would be so eager to possess him- 
 self of the invidious power of inflicting pu- 
 nishment, if he were not pre-determined to 
 make use of it. 
 
 Again; We are told that judge and jury 
 have a distinct office ; that the jury is to find 
 the fact, and the judge to deliver the law. 
 De jure respondent judices, de facto jurati. 
 The dictum is true, though not in the sense
 
 XXII 
 
 given to it by lord Mansfield. The jury arc 
 undoubtedly to determine the fact, that is, 
 whether the defendant did or did not com- 
 mit the crime charged against him. The 
 judge pronounces the sentence annexed by 
 law to that fact so found; and if, in the 
 course of the trial, any question of law arises, 
 both the counsel and the jury must, of ne- 
 cessity, appeal to the judge, and leave it to 
 his decision. An exception or plea in bar 
 may be allowed by the court; but, when is- 
 sue is joined, and the jury have received their 
 charge, it is not possible, in the nature of 
 things, for them to separate the law from the 
 fact, unless they think proper to return a 
 special verdict. 
 
 It has also been alledgcd that, although 
 a common jury arc sufficient to determine a 
 plain matter of fact, they are not qualified to 
 comprehend the meaning, or to judge of the 
 . tendency, of a seditious libel. In answer to 
 this objection (which, if well founded, would 
 prove nothing as to the strict right of return- 
 ing a general verdict), I might safely deny
 
 XX111 
 
 the truth of the assertion. Englishmen, of 
 that rank from which juries are usually 
 taken, are not so illiterate as (to serve a par- 
 ticular purpose) they are now represented, 
 Or, admitting the fact, let a special jury be 
 summoned in all cases of difficulty and im- 
 portance, and the objection is removed. But 
 the truth is, that if a paper, supposed to be 
 a libel upon government, be so obscurely 
 worded, that twelve common men cannot 
 possibly see the seditious meaning and ten- 
 dency of it, it is in effect no libel. It cannot 
 inflame the minds of the people, nor alienate 
 their affections from government; for they 
 no more understand what it means, than if 
 it were published in a language unknown to 
 them. 
 
 Upon the whole matter it appears, to my 
 understanding, clear beyond a doubt, that if, 
 in any future prosecution for a seditious libel, 
 the jury should bring in a verdict of acquittal 
 not warranted by the evidence, it will be ow- 
 ing to the false and absurd doctrines laid 
 down by lord Mansfield. Disgusted at the
 
 XXIV 
 
 odious artifices made use of by the judge to 
 mislead and perplex them, guarded against 
 his sophistry, and convinced of the falsehood 
 of his assertions, they may perhaps deter- 
 mine to thwart his detestable purpose, and 
 defeat him at any rate. To him at least they 
 will do substantial justice. Whereas, if the 
 whole charge, laid in the information, be 
 fairly and honestly submitted to the jury,. 
 there is no reason whatsoever to presume 
 that twelve men, upon their oaths, will not 
 decide impartially between the king and the 
 defendant. The numerous instances, in our 
 state trials, of verdicts recovered for the king, 
 sufficiently refute the false and scandalous 
 imputations thrown by the abettors of lord 
 Mansfield upon the integrity of juries. But 
 even admitting the supposition that, in times 
 of universal discontent, arising from the no- 
 torious maladministration of public affairs, a 
 seditious writer should escape punishment, 
 it makes nothing against my general argu- 
 ment. If juries are fallible, to what other tri- 
 'bunal shall we appeal ? If juries cannot safely 
 be trusted, shall we unite the offices of judge
 
 XXV 
 
 and jury, so wisely divided by the constitu- 
 tion, and trust implicitly to lord Mansfield ? 
 Are the judges of the court of king's bench 
 more likely to be unbiassed and impartial, 
 than twelve yeomen, burgesses, or gentlemen, 
 taken indifferently from the county at large ? 
 Or, in short, shall there be no decision until 
 we have instituted a tribunal from which no 
 possible abuse or inconvenience whatsoever 
 can arise ? If I am not grossly mistaken, these 
 questions carry a decisive answer along with 
 them. 
 
 Having cleared the freedom of the press 
 from a restraint equally unnecessary and il- 
 legal, I return to the use which has been 
 made of it in the present publication. 
 
 National reflections, I confess, are not 
 justified in theory, nor upon any general 
 principles. To know how well they are de- 
 served, and how justly they have been appli- 
 ed, we must have the evidence of facts before 
 us. We must be conversant with the Scots 
 in private life, and observe their principles
 
 XXVI 
 
 of acting to us, and to each other; the cha- 
 racteristic prudence, the selfish nationality, 
 .the indefatigable smile, the persevering assi- 
 duity, the everlasting profession of a discreet 
 and moderate resentment. If the instance 
 were not too important for an experiment, 
 it might not be amiss to confide a little in 
 their integrity. Without any abstract rea- 
 soning upon causes and effects, we shall soon 
 -be convinced by experience, that the Scots, 
 transplanted from their own country, are al- 
 ways a distinct and separate body from the 
 people who receive them. In other settle- 
 ments, they only love themselves; in Eng- 
 land they cordially love themselves, and as 
 cordially hate their neighbours. For the re- 
 mainder of their good qualities, I must ap- 
 peal to the reader's observation, unless he 
 will accept of my lord Barrington's authority. 
 In a letter to the late lord Melcombe, pub- 
 lished by Mr. Lee, he expresses himself with 
 a truth and accuracy not very common in his 
 lordship's lucubrations. { And Cockburne, 
 ' like most of his countrymen, is as abject to 
 < those above him as he is insolent to those
 
 XXV11 
 
 / below him.' I am far from meaning to 
 impeach the articles of the union. If the 
 true spirit of those articles were religiously 
 adhered to, we should not see such a multi- 
 tude of Scotch commoners in the lower house, 
 as representatives of English boroughs, while 
 not a single Scotch borough is ever repre- 
 sented by an Englishman. We should not 
 see English peerages given to Scotch ladies, 
 or to the elder sons of Scotch peers, and the 
 number of sixteen doubled and trebled by a 
 scandalous evasion of the act of union. If it 
 should ever be thought advisable to dissolve 
 an act, the violation or observance of which 
 is invariably directed by the advantage and 
 interest of the Scots, I shall say very sincerely 
 with sir Edward Coke, ' When c poor Eng- 
 
 * land stood alone, and had not the access of 
 
 * another kingdom, and yet had more and as 
 
 * potent enemies as it now hath, yet the king 
 ' of England prevailed.' 
 
 Some opinion may now be expected from 
 me upon a point of equal delicacy to the 
 writer, and hazard to the printer. When
 
 XXV111 
 
 the character of the chief magistrate is in 
 question, more must be understood, than may 
 safely be expressed. If it be really a part 
 of our constitution, and not a mere dictum 
 of the law, ' that the king can do no wrong,* 
 it is not the only instance, in the wisest of 
 human institutions, where theory is at va- 
 riance with practice. That the sovereign 
 of this country is not amenable to any form 
 of trial known to the laws, is unquestionable. 
 But exemption from punishment is a sin- 
 gular privilege annexed to the royal charac- 
 ter, and no way excludes the possibility of 
 deserving it. How long, and to what extent 
 a king of England may be protected by the 
 forms, when he violates the spirit of the con- 
 stitution, deserves to be considered. A mis- 
 take in this matter proved fatal to Charles 
 and his son. For my own part, far from 
 thinking that the king can do no wrong, far 
 from suffering myself to be deterred or im- 
 posed upon by the language of forms, in op- 
 position to the substantial evidence of truth, 
 if it were my misfortune to live under the 
 inauspicious reign of a prince, whose whole
 
 XXIX 
 
 life was employed in one base, contemptible 
 struggle with the free spirit of his people, or 
 in the detestable endeavour to corrupt their 
 moral principles, I would not scruple to de- 
 clare to him, ' Sir, you alone are the author 
 ' of the greatest wrong to your subjects and 
 1 to yourself. Instead of reigning in the 
 
 * hearts of your people, instead of command- 
 
 * ing their lives and fortunes through the 
 ' medium of their affections, has not the 
 
 * strength of the crown, whether influence 
 ' or prerogative, been uniformly exerted, for 
 ' eleven years together, to support a narrow 
 ' pitiful system of government, which defeats 
 f itself, and answers no one purpose of real 
 1 power, profit, or personal satisfaction, to 
 ' you? With the greatest unappropriated 
 f revenue of any prince in Europe, have we 
 ' not seen you reduced to such vile and sor- 
 ' did distresses, as would have conducted 
 ' any other man to a prison ? With a great 
 ( military, and the greatest naval power in 
 ' the known world, have not foreign nations 
 
 * repeatedly insulted you with impunity ? Is 
 ' it not notorious that the vast revenues, ex-
 
 XXX 
 
 e torted from the labour and industry of your 
 
 ( subjects, and given you to do honour to 
 
 f yourself and to the nation, are dissipated 
 
 f in corrupting their representatives? Are 
 
 ( you a prince of the house of Hanover, and 
 ': do you exclude all the leading whig fami- 
 
 ' lies from your councils ? Do you profess to 
 
 f govern according to law, and is it consistent 
 
 ' with that profession, to impart your confi- 
 
 ' dence and affection to those men only who, 
 
 ( though now perhaps detached from the 
 
 ' desperate cause of the pretender, are mark- 
 
 1 ed in this country by an hereditary attach- 
 
 ' ment to high and arbitrary principles of 
 
 f government ? Are you so infatuated as to 
 
 * take the sense of your people from the re- 
 
 * presentation of ministers, or from the shouts 
 1 of a mob, notoriously hired to surround 
 ' your coach, or stationed at a theatre? And 
 ( if you are, in reality, that public man, that 
 
 * king, that magistrate, which these questions 
 f suppose you to be, is it any answer to your 
 
 * people, to say that, among your domestics, 
 
 * you are good-humoured, that to one lady 
 ' you are faithful, that to your children you
 
 XXXI 
 
 ( are indulgent ? Sir, the man who addresses 
 f you in these terms is your best friend. He 
 ' would willingly hazard his life in defence 
 ' of your title to the crown ; and, if power 
 ' be your object, will still shew you how 
 ' possible it is for a king of England, by the 
 ' noblest means, to - be the most absolute 
 ' prince in Europe. You have no enemies, 
 ' sir, but those who persuade you to aim at 
 ( power without right, and who think it flat- 
 ' tery to tell you that the character of king 
 dissolves the natural relation between guilt 
 ' and punishment.' 
 
 I cannot conceive that there is a heart so 
 callous, or an understanding so depraved, as 
 to attend to a discourse of this nature, and 
 not to feel the force of it. But where is the 
 man, among those who have access to the 
 closet, resolute and honest enough to deliver 
 it ? The liberty of the press is our only re- 
 source. It will command an audience when 
 every honest man in the kingdom is excluded. 
 This glorious privilege may be a security to 
 the king, as well as a resource to his people.
 
 XXX11 
 
 Had there been no star-chamber, there would 
 have been no rebellion against Charles the 
 First. The constant censure and admonition 
 of the press would have corrected his con- 
 duct, prevented a civil war, and saved him 
 from an ignominious death. I am no friend 
 to the doctrine of precedents exclusive of 
 right, though lawyers often tell us, that what- 
 ever has been once done, may lawfully be 
 done again. 
 
 I shall conclude this preface with a quo- 
 tation, applicable to the subject, from a fo- 
 reign writer/ whose essay on the English 
 constitution I beg leave to recommend to the 
 public as a performance deep, solid, and 
 ingenious. 
 
 ' In short, whoever considers what it is 
 
 ( that constitutes the moving principle of 
 
 e what we call great affairs, and the invin- 
 
 ( cible sensibility of man to the opinion of 
 
 ' his fellow-creatures, will not hesitate to af- 
 
 < firm, that, if it were possible for the liberty 
 
 6 of the press to exist in a despotic govern-
 
 XXX111 
 
 ' ment, and (what is not less difficult) for it 
 e to exist without changing the constitution, 
 
 * this liberty of the press would alone form 
 ' a counterpoise to the power of the prince. 
 f If, for example, in an empire of the east, 
 ' a sanctuary could be found, which, ren- 
 ( dered respectable by the ancient religion 
 ' of the people, might insure safety to those 
 ' who should bring thither their observations 
 1 of any kind; and that from thence printed 
 ' papers should issue which, under a certain 
 ' seal, might be equally respected; and 
 ( which, in their daily appearance, should 
 
 * examine, and freely discuss, the conduct 
 
 < of the cadis, the bashaws, the vizir, the 
 ' divan, and the sultan himself, that would 
 ' introduce immediately some degree of li- 
 
 < berty.'
 
 XXXV 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST. 
 
 Page 
 
 DEDICATION to the ENGLISH NATION i 
 
 PREFACE xi 
 
 LETTER 1. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 vertiser I 
 
 2. Sir WILLIAM DRAPER'S answer to the 
 
 former letter of Junius, addressed to 
 
 the Printer 19 
 
 3. JUNIUS to SIR WILLIAM DRAPER 28 
 
 4. Sir WILLIAM DRAPER to JUNIUS 37 
 
 5. To Sir WILLIAM DRAPER 48 
 
 6. To JUNIUS from SIR WILLIAM DRAPER 52 
 
 7. To Sir WILLIAM DRAPER 54 
 
 8. To the Duke of GRAFTON 58 
 
 9- To his Grace the Duke of GRAFTON .... 65 
 
 1O. To Mr. EDWARD WESTON 71 
 
 11. To his Grace the Duke of GR A FTOX 74 
 
 . . 12. To his Grace the Duke of GRAFTON ... 83
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Page 
 LETTER 13. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 
 lie Advertiser 97 
 
 14. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 102 
 
 15. To his Grace the Duke of GRAFTON 110 
 
 16. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser 121 
 
 I/. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 130 
 
 18. To Sir WILLIAM BLACKSTONE, Solicitor 
 
 General to her Majesty 136 
 
 ip. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 146 
 
 20. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 vertiser l6l 
 
 21 . To the Printer of the Public Advertiser . 172 
 
 22. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 174 
 
 23. JUNIUS to the Duke of BEDFORD 181 
 
 24. Sir WILLIAM DRAPER to JUNIUS 197 
 
 25. JUNIUS to Sir WILLIAM DRAPER 201 
 
 26. Sir WILLIAM DRAPER to JUNIUS 207 
 
 27. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 
 . . ' vertiser 214 
 
 28. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser 223 
 
 29. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 225 
 
 30. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 vertiser 233 
 
 31. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 244
 
 XXXV11 
 
 Page 
 LETTER 32. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 
 vertiser 251 
 
 33. To his Grace the Duke of GRAFTON 254 
 
 34. To his Grace the Duke of GRAFTON 257 
 
 35. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser 263 
 
 36. To the Duke of GRAFTON 292
 
 xxxviii 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 VOLUME THE SECOND, 
 
 Page 
 LETTER 37. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser . 1 
 
 38. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser . 10 
 
 3p. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser . 23 
 
 40. To Lord NORTH 42 
 
 41. To the Right Honourable Lord MANS- 
 FIELD 47 
 
 42. To the Printer of the Public Advertiser . 66 
 
 43. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 81 
 
 44. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 vertiser 87 
 
 45. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 104 
 
 46. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser . . . . 106
 
 XXXIX 
 
 Page 
 
 LETTER 47. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser Ill 
 
 48. PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 114 
 
 49. JUNIUS to the Duke of GRAFTON 12O 
 
 50. To his Grace the Duke of GRAFTON 128 
 
 51. From the Rev. Mr. HORNE to JUNIUS . . 136 
 
 52. Juwius to the Rev. Mr. HORNE 141 
 
 53. From the Rev. Mr. HORNE to JUNIUS . . 147 
 
 54. JUNIUS to the Printer of the Public Ad- 
 
 vertiser 17O 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 1 88 
 
 56. The Rev. Mr. HORNB to JUNIUS 192 
 
 57. JUNIUS to his Grace the Duke of GRAF- 
 
 TON 195 
 
 58. Addressed to the Livery of LONDON .... 207 
 ,59. To the Printer of the Public Adver- 
 tiser 212 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS to the Printer of the Pub- 
 lic Advertiser 23O 
 
 6l. PHILO JUNIUS to ZENO 235 
 
 62. PHILO JUNIUS to an Advocate in the 
 
 Cause of the People 245 
 
 63. Observations by a Friend of JUNIUS in 
 
 answer to a Barrister at Law 243 
 
 64 253 
 
 65. JUNIUS to Lord Chief Justice MANS- 
 FIELD 259
 
 xl 
 
 Page 
 LETTER 66. Juxius engages to make good his charge 
 
 against Lord MANSFIELD 26l 
 
 -. 67. JUNIUS to the Duke of GRAFTON 262 
 
 68. To Lord Chief Justice MANSFIELD 268 
 
 69. To the Right Hon. Lord CAMDEN 311
 
 LETTERS OF JUXIUS. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC 4DFEBT1SER. 
 
 SIR, 21 January, 1769. 
 
 THE submission of a free people 
 to the executive authority of government is 
 no more than a compliance with laws which 
 they themselves have enacted. While the 
 national honour is firmly maintained abroad, 
 and while justice is impartially administered 
 at home, the obedience of the subject will 
 be voluntary, cheerful, and I might almost 
 say unlimited. A generous nation is grateful 
 even for the preservation of its rights, and 
 willingly extends the respect due to the office
 
 of a good prince into an affection for bis 
 person. Loyalty, in the heart and under- 
 standing of an Englishman, is a rational at- 
 tachment to the guardian of the laws. Pre- 
 judices and passion have sometimes carried 
 it to a criminal length; and, whatever fo- 
 reigners may imagine, we know that Eng- 
 lishmen have erred as much in a mistaken 
 zeal for particular persons and families, as 
 they ever did in defence of what they thought 
 most dear and interesting to themselves. 
 
 It naturally fills us with resentment to see 
 such a temper insulted and abused. In read- 
 ing the history of a free people, whose rights 
 have been invaded, we are interested in their 
 cause. Our own feelings tell us how long 
 they ought to have submitted, and at what 
 moment it would have been treachery to 
 themselves not to have resisted. How much 
 warmer will be our resentment if experience 
 should bring the fatal example home to our- 
 selves ! 
 
 The situation of this country is alarm-
 
 ing enough to rouse the attention of every 
 man who pretends to a concern for the pub- 
 lic welfare. Appearances justify suspicion; 
 and, when the safety of a nation is at stake, 
 suspicion is a just ground of inquiry. Let 
 us enter into it with candour and decency. 
 Respect is due to the station of ministers; 
 and, if a resolution must at last be taken, 
 there is none so likely to be supported with 
 firmness as that which has been adopted 
 with moderation. 
 
 The ruin or prosperity of a state depends 
 so much upon the administration of its go- 
 vernment, that, to be acquainted with the 
 merit of a ministry, we need only observe 
 the condition of the people. If we see them 
 obedient to the laws, prosperous in their in- 
 dustry, united at home, and respected abroad, 
 we may reasonably presume that their affairs 
 are conducted by men of experience, abili- 
 ties, and virtue. If, on the contrary, we see 
 an universal spirit of distrust and dissatisfac- 
 tion, a rapid decay of trade, dissensions in- 
 all parts of the empire, and a total loss of
 
 respect in the eyes of foreign powers, we may 
 pronounce, without hesitation, that the go- 
 vernment of that country is weak, distracted, 
 and corrupt. The multitude, in all coun- 
 tries, are patient to a certain point. Ill usage 
 may rouse their indignation, and hurry them 
 into excesses, but the original fault is in go- 
 vernment. Perhaps there never was an in- 
 stance of a change, in the circumstances and 
 temper of a whole nation, so sudden and 
 extraordinary as that which the misconduct 
 of ministers has, within these few years, pro- 
 duced in Great Britain. When our gracious 
 sovereign ascended the throne, we were a 
 flourishing and a contented people. If the 
 personal virtues of a king could have insured 
 the happiness of his subjects, the scene could 
 not have altered so entirely as it has done. 
 The idea of uniting all parties, of trying all 
 characters, and distributing the offices of state 
 by rotation, was gracious and benevolent to 
 an extreme, though it has not yet produced 
 the many salutary effects which were intend- 
 ed by it. To say nothing of the wisdom of 
 such a plan, it undoubtedly arose from an
 
 unbounded goodness of heart, in which folly 
 had no share. It was not a capricious par- 
 tiality to new faces; it was not a natural 
 turn for low intrigue; nor was it the trea- 
 cherous amusement of double and triple ne- 
 gotiations. No, sir, it arose from a continued 
 anxiety, in the purest of all possible hearts, 
 for the general welfare. Unfortunately for us, 
 the event has not been answerable to the 
 design. After a rapid succession of changes, 
 we are reduced to that state which hardly 
 any change can mend. Yet there is no ex- 
 tremity of distress which, of itself, ought to 
 reduce a great nation to despair. It is not the 
 disorder, but the physician ; it is not a casual 
 concurrence of calamitous circumstances, 
 it is the pernicious hand of government, 
 which alone can make a whole people des- 
 perate. 
 
 Without much political sagacity, or any 
 extraordinary depth of observation, we need 
 only mark how the principal departments of 
 the state are bestowed, and look no farther for 
 the true cause of every mischief that befals us.
 
 6 
 
 The a finances of a nation, sinking under 
 its debts and expences, are committed to a 
 young nobleman already ruined by play. In- 
 troduced to act under the auspices of lord 
 Chatham, and left at the head of affairs by 
 that nobleman's retreat, he became minister 
 by accident; but, deserting the principles 
 and professions which gave him a moment's 
 popularity, we see him, from every honour- 
 able engagement to the public, an apostate 
 by design. As for business, the world yet 
 knows nothing of his talents or resolution; 
 unless a wayward, wavering inconsistency be 
 a mark of genius, and caprice a demon- 
 stration of spirit. It may be said, perhaps, 
 that it is his grace's province, as surely it is 
 his passion, rather to distribute than to save 
 the public money, and that while Lord North 
 is chancellor of the exchequer, the first lord 
 of the treasury may be as thoughtless and 
 extravagant as he pleases. I hope, however, 
 he will not rely too much on the fertility of 
 lord North's genius for finance. His lord- 
 ship is yet to give us the first proof of his 
 abilities: it may be candid to suppose that
 
 he has hitherto voluntarily concealed his ta- 
 lents; intending, perhaps, to astonish the 
 world, when we least expect it, with a know- 
 ledge of trade, a choice of expedients, and 
 a depth of resources equal to the necessities, 
 and far beyond the hopes of his country. 
 He must now exert the whole power of his 
 capacity, if he would wish us to forget that, 
 since he has been in office, no plan has been 
 formed, no system adhered to, nor any one 
 important measure adopted for the relief of 
 public credit. If his plan for the service of 
 the current year be not irrevocably fixed on, 
 let me warn him to think seriously of conse- 
 quences before he ventures to increase the 
 public debt. Outraged and oppressed as we 
 are, this nation will not bear, after a six years 
 peace, to see new millions borrowed, with- 
 out an eventual diminution of debt, or re^ 
 duction of interest. The attempt might rouse 
 a spirit of resentment, which might reach 
 beyond the sacrifice of a minister. As to 
 the debt upon the civil list, the people of 
 England expect that it will not be paid with- 
 out a strict inquiry how it was incurred.
 
 If it must be paid by parliament, let me 
 advise the chancellor of the exchequer to 
 think of some better expedient than a lot- 
 tery. To support an expensive war, or in 
 circumstances of absolute neceessity, a lot- 
 tery may, perhaps, be allowable ; but, besides 
 that it is at all times the very worst way of 
 raising money upon the people, I think it 
 ill becomes the royal dignity to have the 
 debts of a king provided for like the repairs 
 of a country bridge, or a decayed hospital. 
 The management of the king's affairs in the 
 house of commons cannot be more disgraced 
 than it has been. A leading minister, re- 
 peatedly called down for absolute ignorance ; 
 ridiculous motions ridiculously withdrawn; 
 deliberate plans disconcerted, and a week's 
 preparation of graceful oratory lost in a mo- 
 ment, give us some, though not adequate, 
 idea of lord North's parliamentary abilities 
 and influence. Yet before he had the mis- 
 fortune of being chancellor of the exche- 
 quer, he was neither an object of derision 
 to his enemies, nor of melancholy pity to his 
 friends.
 
 A series of inconsistent measures has alie- 
 nated the colonies from their duty as sub- 
 jects, and from their natural affection to their 
 common country. When Mr. Grenville was 
 placed at the head of the treasury, he felt 
 the impossibility of Great Britain's support- 
 ing such an establishment as her former 
 successes had made indispensable, and at 
 the same time of giving any sensible relief 
 to foreign trade, and to the weight of the 
 public debt. He thought it equitable that 
 those parts of the empire which had benefited 
 most by the expences of the war, should 
 contribute something to the expences of the 
 peace, and he had no doubt of the consti- 
 tutional right vested in parliament to raise 
 the contribution. But, unfortunately for his 
 country, Mr. Grenville was at any rate to be 
 distressed because he was minister, and Mr. 
 Pitt b and lord Camden were to be the 
 patrons of America, because they were in 
 opposition. Their declaration gave spirit 
 and argument to the colonies, and while, 
 perhaps, they meant no more than a ruin of
 
 10 
 
 a minister, they in effect divided one half of 
 the empire from the other. 
 
 Under one administration the stamp act 
 is made; under the second it is repealed; 
 under the third, in spite of all experience, a 
 new mode of taxing the colonies is invented, 
 and a question revived, which ought to have 
 been buried in oblivion. In these circum- 
 stances a new office is established for the 
 business of the plantations, and the earl of 
 Hillsborough called forth, at a most critical 
 season, to govern America. The choice at 
 least announced to us a man of superior 
 capacity and knowledge. Whether he be so 
 or not, let his dispatches as far as they have 
 appeared, let his measures as far as they have 
 operated, determine for him. In the former 
 we have seen strong assertions without proof, 
 declamation without argument, and violent 
 censures without dignity or moderation ; but 
 neither correctness in the composition, nor 
 judgment in the design. As for his mea- 
 sures, let it be remembered, that he was call-
 
 11 
 
 ed upon to conciliate and unite; and that, 
 when he entered into office, the most re- 
 fractory of the colonies were still disposed to 
 proceed by the constitutional methods of pe- 
 tition and remonstrance. Since that period 
 they have been driven into excesses little short 
 of rebellion. Petitions have been hindered 
 from reaching the throne; and the continu- 
 ance of one of the principal assemblies rested 
 upon an arbitrary condition, which, consi- 
 dering the temper they were in, it was im- 
 possible they should comply with, and which 
 would have availed nothing as to the general 
 question, if it had been complied with. So 
 violent, and I believe I may call it so uncon- 
 stitutional, an exertion of the prerogative ; to 
 say nothing of the weak, injudicious terms in 
 which it was conveyed; gives us as humble 
 an opinion of his lordship's capacity as it 
 does of his temper and moderation. While 
 we are at peace with other nations, our mi- 
 litary force may, perhaps, be spared to sup- 
 port the earl of Hillsborough's measures in 
 America. Whenever that force shall be ne- 
 cessarily withdrawn or diminished, the dis-
 
 12 
 
 mission of such a minister will neither con- 
 sole us for his imprudence, nor remove the 
 settled resentment of a people, who, com- 
 plaining of an act of the legislature, are out- 
 raged by an unwarrantable stretch of pre- 
 rogative, and, supporting their claims by ar- 
 gument, are insulted with declamation. 
 
 Drawing lots would be a prudent and 
 reasonable method of appointing the officers 
 of state, compared to a late disposition of the 
 secretary's office. Lord Rochford was ac- 
 quainted with the affairs and temper of the 
 southern courts ; lord Weymouth was equally 
 qualified for either department. 11 By what 
 unaccountable caprice has it happened that 
 the latter, who pretends to no experience 
 whatsoever, is removed to the most important 
 of the two departments, and the former by 
 preference placed in an office where his ex- 
 perience can be of no use to him ? Lord 
 Weymouth had distinguished himself in his 
 first employment by a spirited, if not judi- 
 cious conduct. He had animated the civil 
 magistrate beyond the tone of civil authority,
 
 13 
 
 and had directed the operations of the army 
 to more than military execution. Recovered 
 from the errors of his youth, from the dis- 
 traction of play, and the bewitching smiles 
 of Burgundy, behold him exerting the whole 
 strength of his clear, unclouded faculties in 
 the service of the crown. It was not the heat 
 of midnight excesses, nor ignorance of the 
 laws, nor furious spirit of the house of Bed- 
 ford: no, sir, when this respectable minister 
 interposed his authority between the magis- 
 trate and the people, and signed the mandate 
 on which, for aught he knew, the lives of 
 thousands depended, he did it from the deli- 
 berate motion of his heart, supported by the 
 best of his judgment. 
 
 It has lately been a fashion to pay a com- 
 pliment to the bravery and generosity of the 
 commander in chief/ at the expence of his 
 understanding. They who love him least 
 make no question of his courage, while his 
 friends dwell chiefly on the facility of his 
 disposition. Admitting him to be as brave as 
 a total absence of all feeling and reflection
 
 14 
 
 can make him, let us see what sort of merit 
 he derives from the remainder of his charac- 
 ter. If it be generosity to accumulate in his 
 own person and family a number of lucra- 
 tive employments ; to provide, at the public 
 expence, for every creature that bears the 
 name of Manners ; and, neglecting the merit 
 and services of the rest of the army, to heap 
 promotions upon his favourites and depen- 
 dants ; the present commander in chief is the 
 most generous man alive. Nature has been 
 sparing of her gifts to this noble lord; but 
 where birth and fortune are united, we ex- 
 pect the noble pride and independence of a 
 man of spirit, not the servile, humiliating 
 complaisance of a courtier. As to the good- 
 ness of his heart, if a proof of it be taken 
 from the facility of never refusing, what con- 
 clusion shall we draw from the indecency of 
 never performing ? And if the discipline of 
 the army be in any degree preserved, what 
 thanks are due to a man whose cares, noto- 
 riously confined to filling up vacancies, have 
 degraded the office of commander in chief 
 into a broker of commissions.
 
 15 
 
 With respect to the navy, I shall only 
 say, that this country is so highly indebted 
 to sir Edward Hawke, that no expence should 
 be spared to secure to him an honourable and 
 affluent retreat. 
 
 The pure and impartial administration of 
 justice is, perhaps, the firmest bond to secure 
 a cheerful submission of the people, and to 
 engage their affections to government. It is 
 not sufficient that questions of private right 
 or wrong are justly decided, nor that judges 
 are superior to the vileness of pecuniary cor- 
 ruption. JefFeries himself, when the court 
 had no interest, was an upright judge. A 
 court of justice may be subject to another 
 sort of bias, more important and pernicious, 
 as it reaches beyond the interest of indivi- 
 duals, and affects the whole community. A 
 judge under the influence of government, 
 may be honest enough in the decision of 
 private causes, yet a traitor to the public. 
 When a victim is marked out by the mi- 
 nistry, this judge will offer himself to perform 
 the sacrifice. He will not scruple to prosti-
 
 16 
 
 tute his dignity, and betray the sanctity of his 
 office, whenever an arbitrary point is to be 
 carried for government, or the resentment of 
 a court to be gratified. 
 
 These principles and proceedings, odious 
 and contemptible as they are, in effect are 
 no less injudicious. A wise and generous 
 people are roused by every appearance of 
 oppressive, unconstitutional measures, whe- 
 ther those measures are supported only by 
 the power of government, or masked under 
 the forms of a court of justice. Prudence 
 and self-preservation will oblige the most 
 moderate dispositions to make common cause, 
 even with a man whose conduct they censure, 
 if they see him persecuted in a way which 
 the real spirit of the laws will not justify. 
 The facts, on which these remarks are found- 
 ed, are too notorious to require an applica- 
 tion. 
 
 This, sir, is the detail. In one view be- 
 hold a nation overwhelmed with debt; her 
 revenues wasted; her trade declining; the
 
 17 
 
 affections of her colonies alienated ; the duty 
 of the magistrate transferred to the soldiery; 
 a gallant army, which never fought un- 
 willingly but against their fellow subjects, 
 mouldering away for want of the direction 
 of a man of common abilities and spirit ; and, 
 in the last instance, the administration of jus- 
 tice become odious and suspected to the 
 whole body of the people. This deplorable 
 scene admits of but one addition that we 
 are governed by counsels from which a rea- 
 sonable man can expect no remedy but poi- 
 son, no relief but death. 
 
 If, by the immediate interposition of Pro- 
 vidence, it were possible for us to escape a 
 crisis so full of terror and despair, posterity 
 will not believe the history of the present 
 times. They will eidier conclude that our 
 distresses were imaginaiy, or that we had the 
 good fortune to be governed by men of ac- 
 knowledged integrity and wisdom : they will 
 not believe it possible that their ancestors 
 could have survived, or recovered from so 
 desperate a condition, while a duke of Grafton
 
 ]8 
 
 was prime minister, a lord North chancel- 
 lor of the exchequer, a Weymouth and a 
 Hillsborough secretaries of state, a Granby 
 commander in chief, and a Mansfield chief 
 criminal judge of the kingdom. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 SIR, 26 January, 1769. 
 
 THE kingdom swarms with such 
 numbers of felonious robbers of private cha- 
 racter and virtue, that no honest or good man 
 is safe; especially as these cowardly, base 
 assassins stab in the dark, without having the 
 courage to sign their real names to their ma- 
 levolent and wicked productions. A writer, 
 who signs himself Junius, in the Public Ad- 
 vertiser of the 21st instant, opens the de- 
 plorable situation of his country in a very 
 affecting manner; with a pompous parade of 
 his candour and decency, he tells us, that we 
 see dissensions in all parts of the empire, an 
 universal spirit of distrust and dissatisfaction, 
 and a total loss of respect towards us in the
 
 20 
 
 eyes of foreign powers. But this writer, with 
 all his boasted candour, has not told us the 
 real cause of the evils he so pathetically enu- 
 merates. I shall take the liberty to explain 
 the cause for him. Junius, and such writers 
 as himself, occasion all the mischief com- 
 plained of, by falsely and maliciously tradu- 
 cing the best characters in the kingdom. For 
 when our deluded people at home, and fo- 
 reigners abroad, read the poisonous and in- 
 flammatory libels that are daily published 
 with impunity, to vilify those who are any 
 way distinguished by their good qualities and 
 eminent virtues: when they find no notice 
 taken of, or reply given, to these slanderous 
 tongues and pens, their conclusion is, that 
 both the ministers and the nation have been 
 fairly described; and they act accordingly. 
 I think it therefore the duty of every good 
 citizen to stand forth, and endeavour to un- 
 deceive the public, when the vilest arts are 
 made use of to defame and blacken the 
 brightest characters among us. An eminent 
 author affirms it to be almost as criminal to 
 hear a worthy man traduced, without at-
 
 21 
 
 tempting his justification, as to be the author 
 of the calumny against him. For my own 
 part, I think it a sort of misprision of trea- 
 son against society. No man therefore who 
 knows lord Granby, can possibly hear so good 
 and great a character most vilely abused, with- 
 out a warm and just indignation against this 
 Junius, this high-priest of envy, malice, and 
 all uncharitableness, who has endeavoured 
 to sacrifice our beloved commander in chief 
 at the altars of his horrid deities. Nor is the 
 injury done to his lordship alone, but to the 
 whole nation, which may too soon feel the 
 contempt, and consequently the attacks of 
 our late enemies, if they can be induced to 
 believe that the person on whom the safety 
 of these kingdoms so much depends, is un- 
 equal to his high station, and destitute of 
 those qualities which form a good general. 
 One would have thought that his lordship's 
 service in the cause of his country, from the 
 battle of Culloden to his most glorious con- 
 clusion of the late war, might have entitled 
 him to common respect and decency at least; 
 but this uncandid, indecent writer lias gone
 
 22 
 
 so far as to turn one of the most amiable men 
 of the age into a stupid, unfeeling, and 
 senseless being, possessed indeed of a per- 
 sonal courage, but void of those essential qua- 
 lities which distinguish the commander from 
 the common soldier. 
 
 A very long, uninterrupted, impartial, I 
 will add, a most disinterested friendship with 
 lord Granby, gives me the right to affirm, 
 that all Junius's assertions are false and scan- 
 dalous. Lord Granby's courage, though of 
 the brightest and most ardent kind, is among 
 the lowest of his numerous good qualities; 
 he was formed to excel in war by nature's 
 liberality to his mind as well as person. Edu- 
 cated and instructed by his most noble father, 
 and a most spirited as well as excellent scho- 
 lar, the present bishop of Bangor, he was 
 trained to the nicest sense of honour, and 
 to the truest and noblest sort of pride, that of 
 never doing or suffering a mean action. A 
 sincere love and attachment to his king and 
 country, and to their glory, first impelled 
 him to the field, where he never gained aught
 
 23 
 
 but honour. He impaired, through his boun- 
 ty, his own fortune; for his bounty, which 
 this writer would in vain depreciate, is 
 founded upon the noblest of the human 
 affections; it flows from a heart melting to 
 goodness from the most refined humanity. 
 Can a man, who is described as unfeeling, 
 and void of reflection, be constantly employed 
 in seeking proper objects on whom to ex- 
 ercise those glorious virtues of compassion 
 and generosity? The distressed officer, the 
 soldier, the widow, the orphan, and a long 
 list besides, know that vanity has no share 
 in his frequent donations ; he gives, because 
 he feels their distresses. Nor has he ever 
 been rapacious with one hand to be boun- 
 tiful with the other; yet this uncandid Ju- 
 nius would insinuate, that the dignity of the 
 commander in chief is depraved into the 
 base office of a commission broker; that is, 
 lord Granby bargains for the sale of com- 
 missions; for it must have this meaning, if 
 it has any at all. But where is the man liv- 
 ing who can justly charge his lordship with 
 such mean practices ? Why does not Junius
 
 24 
 
 produce him ? Junius knows that he has no 
 other means of wounding this hero than from 
 some missile weapon, shot from an obscure 
 corner: he seeks, as all such defamatory 
 writers do, 
 
 spargere voces 
 
 In vulgum ambiguas 
 
 to raise suspicion in the minds of the peo- 
 ple. But I hope that my countrymen will be 
 no longer imposed upon by artful and de- 
 signing men, or by wretches, who, bankrupts 
 in business, in fame, and in fortune, mean 
 nothing more than to involve this country in 
 the same common ruin with themselves. 
 Hence it is that they are constantly aiming 
 their dark and too often fatal weapons against 
 those who stand forth as the bulwark of our 
 national safety. Lord Granby was too con- 
 spicuous a mark not to be their object. He 
 is next attacked for being unfaithful to his 
 promises and engagements. Where are Ju- 
 nius's proofs? Although I could give some 
 instances where a breach of promise would 
 be a virtue, especially in the case of those 
 who would pervert the open, unsuspecting
 
 25 
 
 moments of convivial mirth into sly, insidious 
 applications for preferment, or party systems, 
 and would endeavour to surprise a good man, 
 who cannot bear to see any one leave him 
 dissatisfied, into unguarded promises. Lord 
 Granby's attention to his own family and rela- 
 tions is called selfish. Had he not attended 
 to them, when fair and just opportunities 
 presented themselves, I should have thought 
 him unfeeling, and void of reflection indeed. 
 How are any man's friends or relations to be 
 provided for but from the influence and pro- 
 tection of the patron ? It is unfair to suppose 
 that lord Granby's friends have not as much 
 merit as the friends of any other great man : 
 if he is generous at the public expence, as 
 Junius invidiously calls it, the public is at no 
 more expence for his lordship's friends than 
 it would be if any other set of men possessed 
 those offices. The charge is ridiculous ! 
 
 The last charge against lord Granby is 
 of a most serious and alarming nature indeed. 
 Junius asserts, that the army is mouldering 
 away for want of the direction of a man of
 
 26 
 
 common abilities and spirit. The present con- 
 dition of the army gives the directest lie to 
 his assertions. It was never upon a more 
 respectable footing with regard to discipline, 
 and all the essentials that can form good sol- 
 diers. Lord Ligonier delivered a firm and 
 noble palladium of our safeties into lord 
 Granby's hands, who has kept it in the same 
 good order in which he received it. The 
 strictest care has been taken to fill up the 
 vacant commissions with such gentlemen as 
 have the glory of their ancestors to support 
 as well as their own, and are doubly bound 
 to the cause of their king and country from 
 motives of private property as well as public 
 spirit. The adjutant-general, who has the im- 
 mediate care of the troops after lord Granby, 
 is an officer that would do great honour in 
 any service in Europe, for his correct arrange- 
 ments, good sense, and discernment, upon all 
 occasions, and for a punctuality and preci- 
 sion which give the most entire satisfaction to 
 all who are obliged to consult him. The re- 
 viewing generals, who inspect the army twice 
 a year, have been selected with the greatest
 
 27 
 
 care, and have answered the important trust 
 reposed in them in the most laudable man- 
 ner. Their reports of the condition of the 
 army are much more to be credited than those 
 of Junius, whom I do advise to atone for his 
 shameful aspersions, by asking pardon of lord 
 Granby and the whole kingdom, whom he 
 has offended by his abominable scandals. In 
 short, to turn Junius's own battery against 
 him, I must assert, in his own words, ' that 
 he has given strong assertions without proof, 
 declamation without argument, and violent 
 censures without dignity or moderation.' 
 
 WILLIAM DRAPER.
 
 28 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DRAPER, K.B. 
 
 SIR, 7 February, 1769. 
 
 YOUR defence of lord Granby does 
 honour to the goodness of your heart. You 
 feel, as you ought to do, for the reputation 
 of your friend, and you express yourself in 
 the warmest language of your passions. In 
 any other cause, I doubt not, you would have 
 cautiously weighed the consequences of com- 
 mitting your name to the licentious discourses 
 and malignant opinions of the world. But 
 here, I presume, you thought it would be a 
 breach of friendship to lose one moment in 
 consulting your understanding; as if an ap- 
 peal to the public were no more than a mili- 
 tary coup de main, where a brave man has 
 no rules to follow but the dictates of his cou-
 
 29 
 
 rage. Touched with your generosity, I freely 
 forgive the excesses into which it has led you; 
 and, far from resenting those terms of re- 
 proach which, considering that you are an 
 advocate for decorum, you have heaped upon 
 me rather too liberally, I place them to the 
 account of an honest unreflecting indigna- 
 tion, in which your cooler judgment and na- 
 tural politeness had no concern. I approve 
 of the spirit with which you have given your 
 name to the public ; and, if it were a proof 
 of any thing but spirit, I should have thought 
 myself bound to follow your example. I 
 should have hoped that even my name might 
 carry some authority with it, if I had not 
 seen how very little weight or consideration 
 a printed paper receives even from the re- 
 spectable signature of sir William Draper. 
 
 You begin with a general assertion, that 
 writers, such as I am, are the real cause of all 
 the public evils we complain of. And do 
 you really think, sir William, that the licen- 
 tious pen of a political writer is able to pro- 
 duce such important effects? A little calm
 
 30 
 
 reflection might have shewn you that na- 
 tional calamities do not arise from the de- 
 scription, but from the real character and 
 conduct of ministers. To have supported 
 your assertion, you should have proved that 
 the present ministry are unquestionably the 
 best and brightest characters of the kingdom ; 
 and that, if the affections of the colonies have 
 been alienated, if Corsica has been shame- 
 fully abandoned, if commerce languishes, if 
 public credit is threatened with a new debt, 
 and your own Manilla ransom most disho- 
 nourably given up, it has all been owing to the 
 malice of political writers, who will not suf- 
 fer the best and brightest of characters (mean- 
 ing still the present ministry) to take a single 
 right step for the honour or interest of the 
 nation. But it seems you were a little tender 
 of coming to particulars. Your conscience 
 insinuated to you that it would be prudent 
 to leave the characters of Grafton, North, 
 Hillsborough, Weymouth, and Mansfield, to 
 shift for themselves ; and truly, sir William, 
 the part you have undertaken is at least as 
 much as you are equal to.
 
 31 
 
 Without disputing lord Granby's cou- 
 rage, we are yet to learn in what articles of 
 military knowledge nature has been so very 
 liberal to his mind. If you have served with 
 him, you ought to have pointed out some in- 
 stances of able disposition and well-concerted 
 enterprise, which might fairly be attributed 
 to his capacity as a general. It is you, sir 
 William, who make your friend appear awk- 
 ward and ridiculous, by giving him a laced 
 suit of tawdry qualifications, which nature 
 never intended him to wear. 
 
 You say, he has acquired nothing but 
 honour in the field. Is the ordnance no- 
 thing? Are the blues nothing? Is the com- 
 mand of the army, with all the patronage 
 annexed to it, nothing ? Where he got these 
 nothings I know not ; but you at least ought 
 to have told us \\hcre he deserved them. 
 
 As to his bounty, compassion, &c. it 
 would have been but little to the purpose, 
 though you had proved all that you have 
 asserted. I meddle with nothing but his cha-
 
 32 
 
 racter as commander in chief; and, though 
 I acquit him of the baseness of selling com- 
 missions, I still assert that his military cares 
 have never extended beyond the disposal of 
 vacancies; and I am justified by the com- 
 plaints of the whole army, when I say that, 
 in this distribution, he consults nothing but 
 parliamentary interests, or the gratification of 
 his immediate dependants. As to his servile 
 submission to the reigning ministry, let me 
 ask whether he did not desert the cause of 
 the whole army when he suffered sir Jeffery 
 Amherst to be sacrificed, and what share he 
 had in recalling that officer to the service? 
 Did he not betray the just interest of the army 
 in permitting lord Percy to have a regiment ? 
 And does he not at this moment give up all 
 character and dignity as a gentleman, in re- 
 ceding from his own repeated declarations in 
 favour of Mr. Wilkes ? 
 
 In the two next articles I think we are 
 agreed. You candidly admit that he often 
 makes such promises as it is a virtue in him 
 to violate, and that no man is more assiduous
 
 33 
 
 to provide for his relations at the public ex- 
 pence. I did not urge the last as an abso- 
 lute vice in his disposition, but to prove that 
 a careless disinterested spirit is no part of his 
 character; and as to the other, I desire it may 
 be remembered, that I never descended to the 
 indecency of inquiring into his convivial 
 hours. It is you, sir William Draper, who 
 have taken pains to represent your friend in 
 the character of a drunken landlord, who 
 deals out his promises as liberally as his li- 
 quor, and will suffer no man to leave his 
 table either sorrowful or sober. None but 
 an intimate friend, who must frequently have 
 seen him in these unhappy, disgraceful mo- 
 ments, could have described him so well. 
 
 The last charge, of the neglect of the 
 army, is indeed the most material of all. I 
 am sorry to tell you, sir William, that, in this 
 article, your first fact is false ; and as there is 
 nothing more painful to me than to give a 
 direct contradiction to a gentleman of your 
 appearance, I could wish that, in your future 
 
 publications, you would pay a greater atten- 
 I D
 
 34 
 
 tion to the truth of your premises, before you 
 suffer your genius to hurry you to a conclu- 
 sion. Lord Ligonier did not deliver the army 
 (which you, in classical language, are pleased 
 to call a palladium) into lord Granby's hands. 
 It was taken from him much against his in- 
 clination, some two or three years before lord 
 Granby was commander in chief. As to the 
 state of the army, I should be glad to know 
 where you have received your intelligence. 
 Was it in the rooms at Bath, or at your re- 
 treat at Clifton? The reports of reviewing 
 generals comprehend only a few regiments in 
 England, which, as they are immediately un- 
 der the royal inspection, are perhaps in some 
 tolerable order. But do you know any thing 
 of the troops in the West Indies, the Medi- 
 terranean, and North America? to say no- 
 thing of a whole army absolutely ruined in 
 Ireland. Inquire a little into facts, sir Wil- 
 liam, before you publish your next panegyric 
 upon lord Granby, and, believe me, you will 
 find there is a fault at head quarters, which 
 even the acknowledged care and abilities of 
 the adjutant general cannot correct.
 
 35 
 
 Permit me now, sir William, to address 
 myself personally to you, by way of thanks 
 for the honour of your correspondence. You 
 are by no means undeserving of notice : and 
 it may be of consequence even to lord Granby 
 to have it determined whether or no the man 
 who has praised him so lavishly, be himself 
 deserving of praise. When you returned to 
 Europe, you zealously undertook the cause 
 of that gallant army by whose bravery at 
 Manilla your own fortune had been esta- 
 blished. You complained, you threatened, 
 you even appealed to the public in print. 
 By what accident did it happen that, in the 
 midst of all this bustle, and all these clamours 
 for justice to your injured troops, the name of 
 the Manilla ransom was suddenly buried in 
 a profound, and, since that time, an uninter- 
 rupted silence ? Did the ministry suggest any 
 motives to you strong enough to tempt a 
 man of honour to desert and betray the cause 
 of his fellow soldiers ? Was it that blushing 
 ribband which is now the perpetual ornament 
 of your person ? Or was it that regiment which 
 you afterwards (a thing unprecedented among
 
 36 
 
 soldiers) sold to colonel Gisborne ? Or was it 
 that government^ the full pay of which you 
 are contented to hold, with the half pay of 
 an Irish colonel ? And do you now, after a 
 retreat not very like that of Scipio, presume 
 to intrude yourself, unthought of, uncalled 
 for, upon the patience of the public? Are 
 your flatteries of the commander in chief 
 directed to another regiment, which you may 
 again dispose of on the same honourable 
 terms ? We know your prudence, sir William, 
 and I should be sorry to stop your prefer- 
 ment. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 37 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 TO 
 
 yuNius. 
 
 SIR, 17 February, 1769. 
 
 I RECEIVED Junius's favour last 
 night; he is determined to keep his advan- 
 tage by the help of his mask; it is an excel- 
 lent protection, it has saved many a man from 
 an untimely end. But whenever he will be 
 honest enough to lay it aside, avow himself, 
 and produce the face which has so long 
 lurked behind it, the world will be able to 
 judge of his motives for writing such infa- 
 mous invectives. His real name will discover 
 his freedom and independency, or his servility 
 to a faction. Disappointed ambition, resent- 
 ment for defeated hopes, and desire of re- 
 venge, assume but too often the appearance 
 of public spirit; but be his designs wicked or 
 
 2- 
 , f^ I xV l< >
 
 38 
 
 charitable,, Junius should learn that it is pos- 
 sible to condemn measures without a barba- 
 rous and criminal outrage against men. Junius 
 delights to mangle carcases with a hatchet; 
 his language and instrument have a great 
 connexion with Clare -market, and, to do him 
 justice, he handles his weapon most admi- 
 rably. One would imagine he had been 
 taught to throw it by the savages of America. 
 It is therefore high time for me to step in 
 once more to shield my friend from this mer- 
 ciless weapon, although I may be wounded 
 in the attempt. But I must first ask Junius 
 by what forced analogy and construction the 
 moments of convivial mirth are made to sig- 
 nify indecency, a violation of engagements, 
 a drunken landlord, and a desire that every 
 one in company should be drunk likewise? 
 He must have culled all the flowers of St. 
 Giles's and Billingsgate to have produced 
 such a piece of oratory. Here the hatchet 
 descends with tenfold vengeance; but, alas! 
 it hurts no one but its master ! For Junius 
 must not think to put words into my mouth 
 that seem too foul even for his own.
 
 39 
 
 My friend's political engagements I know 
 not, so cannot pretend to explain them, or 
 assert their consistency. I know not whether 
 Junius be considerable enough to belong to 
 any party; if he should be so, can he affirm 
 that he has always adhered to one set of men 
 and measures ? Is he sure that he has never 
 sided with those whom he was first hired to 
 abuse? Has he never abused those he was 
 hired to praise ? To say the truth, most men's 
 politics sit much too loosely about them. But 
 as my friend's military character was the chief 
 object that engaged me in this controversy, 
 to that I shall return. 
 
 Junius asks what instances my friend has 
 given of his military skill and capacity as a 
 general ? When and where he gained his ho- 
 nour? When he deserved his emoluments? 
 The united voice of the army which served 
 under him, the glorious testimony of prince 
 Ferdinand, and of vanquished enemies, all 
 Germany will tell him. Junius repeats the 
 complaints of the army against parliamentary 
 influence. I love the army too well not to
 
 40 
 
 wish that such influence were less. Let Ju- 
 nius point out the time when it has not pre- 
 vailed. It was of the least force in the time 
 of that great man the late duke of Cumber- 
 land, who, as a prince of the blood, was able 
 as well as willing to stem a torrent which 
 would have overborne any private subject. 
 In time of war this influence is small. In 
 peace, when discontent and faction have the 
 surest means to operate, especially in this 
 country, and when, from a scarcity of pub- 
 lic spirit, the wheels of government are rarely 
 moved but by the power and force of obliga- 
 tions, its weight is always too great. Yet, if 
 this influence at present has done no greater 
 harm than the placing earl Percy at the head 
 of a regiment, I do not think that either the 
 rights or best interests of the army are sacri- 
 ficed and betrayed, or the nation undone. 
 Let me ask Junius if he knows any one no- 
 bleman in the army who has had a regiment 
 by seniority ? I feel myself happy in seeing 
 young noblemen of illustrious name and great 
 property come among us. They are an addi- 
 tional security to the kingdom from foreign
 
 41 
 
 or domestic slavery. Junius needs not be told, 
 that should the time ever come when this na- 
 tion is to be defended only by those who have 
 nothing more to lose than their arms and their 
 pay, its danger will be great indeed. A hap- 
 py mixture of men of quality with soldiers of 
 fortune is always to be wished for. But the 
 main point is still to be contended for; I 
 mean the discipline and condition of the ar- 
 my : and I must still maintain, though con- 
 tradicted by Junius, that it was never upon 
 a more respectable footing, as to all the es- 
 sentials that can form good soldiers, than it 
 is at present. Junius is forced to allow that 
 our army at home may be in some tolerable 
 order; yet how kindly does he invite our late 
 enemies to the invasion of Ireland, by assur- 
 ing them that the army in that kingdom is 
 totally ruined ! (The colonels of that army 
 are much obliged to him.) I have too great 
 an opinion of the military talents of the lord 
 lieutenant, and of all their diligence and ca- 
 pacity, to believe it. If from some strange, 
 unaccountable fatality, the people of that 
 kingdom cannot be induced to consult their
 
 42 
 
 own security by such an effectual augmenta- 
 tion as may enable the troops there to act 
 with power and energy, is the commander in 
 chief here to blame ? Or is he to blame be- 
 cause the troops in the Mediterranean, in the 
 "West Indies, in America, labour under great 
 difficulties from the scarcity of men, which is 
 but too visible all over these kingdoms ! Many 
 of our forces are in climates unfavourable to 
 British constitutions : their loss is in propor- 
 tion. Britain must recruit all these regiments 
 from her own emaciated bosom, or, more 
 precariously, by catholics from Ireland. We 
 are likewise subject to the fatal drains to the 
 East Indies, to Senegal, and the alarming 
 emigrations of our people to other countries : 
 such depopulation can only be repaired by a 
 long peace, or by some sensible bill of na- 
 turalization. 
 
 I must now take the liberty to talk to Ju- 
 nius on my own account. He is pleased to 
 tell me that he addresses himself to me per- 
 sonally. I shall be glad to see him. It is his 
 impersonality that I complain of, and his in-
 
 43 
 
 visible attacks; for his dagger in the air is 
 only to be regarded because one cannot see 
 the hand which holds it ; but had it not 
 wounded other people more deeply than my- 
 self, I should not have obtruded myself at all 
 on the patience of the public. 
 
 Mark how a plain tale shall put him 
 down, and transfuse the blush of my rib- 
 band into his own cheeks. Junius tells me 
 that at my return I zealously undertook the 
 cause of the gallant army by whose bravery 
 at Manilla my own fortunes were establish- 
 ed ; that I complained, that I even appealed 
 to the public. I did so; I glory in having 
 done so, as I had an undoubted right to vin- 
 dicate my own character, attacked by a Spa- 
 nish memorial, and to assert the rights of my 
 brave companions. I glory likewise that I 
 have never taken up my pen but to vindicate 
 the injured. Junius asks, by what accident 
 did it happen that, in the midst of all this 
 bustle, and all the clamours for justice to the 
 injured troops, the Manilla ransom was sud- 
 denly buried in a profound, and, since that
 
 44 
 
 time, an uninterrupted silence ? I will ex- 
 plain the cause to the public. The several 
 ministers who have been employed since that 
 time have been very desirous to do justice, 
 from two most laudable motives, a strong in- 
 clination to assist injured bravery, and to ac- 
 quire a well deserved popularity to them- 
 selves. Their efforts have been in vain. Some 
 were ingenuous enough to own that they 
 could not think of involving this distressed 
 nation into another war for our private con- 
 cerns. In short, our rights, for the present, 
 are sacrificed to national convenience ; and I 
 must confess, that although I may lose five 
 and twenty thousand pounds by their acqui- 
 escence to this breach of faith in the Spani- 
 ards, I think they are in the right to tempo- 
 rise, considering the critical situation of this 
 country, convulsed in every part by poison 
 infused by anonymous, wicked, and incen- 
 diary writers. Lord Shelburne will do me 
 the justice to own that, in September last, I 
 waited upon him with a joint memorial from 
 the admiral sir S. Cornish and myself, in be- 
 halfjour injured companions. His lordship
 
 45 
 
 was as frank upon the occasion as other secre- 
 taries had been before him. He did not de- 
 ceive us by giving any immediate hopes of 
 relief. 
 
 Junius would basely insinuate that my si- 
 lence may have been purchased by my go- 
 vernment, by my blushing ribband, by my 
 regiment, by the sale of that regiment, and 
 by half pay as an Irish colonel. 
 
 His majesty was pleased to give me my 
 government for my service at Madras. I had 
 my first regiment in 1757- Upon my return 
 from Manilla his majesty, by lord Egremont, 
 informed me that I should have the first va- 
 cant red ribband, as a reward for many ser- 
 vices in an enterprise which I had planned 
 as well as executed. The duke of Bedford 
 and Mr. Grenville confirmed those assurances 
 many months before the Spaniards had pro- 
 tested the ransom bills. To accommodate lord 
 Clive, then going upon a most important ser- 
 vice to Bengal, I waved my claim to the va- 
 cancy which then happened. As there was
 
 46 
 
 no other vacancy until the duke of Grafton 
 and lord Rockingham were joint ministers, I 
 was then honoured with the order; and it is 
 surely no small honour to me that, in such a 
 succession of ministers, they were all pleased 
 to think that I had deserved it : in my favour 
 they were all united. Upon the reduction of 
 the seventy-ninth regiment, which had served 
 so gloriously in the East Indies, his majesty, 
 unsolicited by me, gave me the sixteenth of 
 foot as an equivalent. My motives for retir- 
 ing afterwards are foreign to the purpose ; let 
 it suffice, that his majesty was pleased to ap- 
 prove of them ; they are such as no man can 
 think indecent, who knows the shocks that 
 repeated vicissitudes of heat and cold, of dan- 
 gerous and sickly climates, will give to the 
 best constitutions in a pretty long course of 
 service. I resigned my regiment to colonel 
 Gisborne, a very good officer, for his half 
 pay, twelve hundred pounds Irish annuity; 
 so that, according to Junius, I have been 
 bribed to say nothing more of the Manilla 
 ransom, and sacrifice those brave men by the 
 strange avarice of accepting three hundred
 
 47 
 
 and eighty pounds per annum, and giving 
 up eight hundred! If this be bribery, it is 
 not the bribery of these times. As to my flat- 
 tery, those who know me will judge of it. 
 By the asperity of Junius's style, I cannot in- 
 deed call him a flatterer, unless he be as a 
 cynic or a mastiff; if he wags his tail, he 
 will still growl, and long to bite. The pub- 
 lic will now judge of the credit that ought 
 to be given to Junius's writings, from the 
 falsities that he has insinuated with respect 
 to myself. 
 
 WILLIAM DRAPER.
 
 48 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DRAPER, K. E. 
 
 SIR, 21 February, 1769. 
 
 I SHOULD justly be suspected of 
 acting upon motives of more than common 
 enmity to lord Granby if I continued to give 
 you fresh materials, or occasion for writing 
 in his defence. Individuals who hate, and 
 the public who despise, have read your letters, 
 sir William, with infinitely more satisfaction 
 than mine. Unfortunately for him, his repu- 
 tation, like that unhappy country to which 
 you refer me for his last military achieve- 
 ments, has suffered more by his friends than 
 his enemies. In mercy to him let us drop 
 the subject. For my own part, I willingly 
 leave it to the public to determine whether 
 your vindication of your friend has been as
 
 49 
 
 able and judicious as it was certainly well 
 intended ; and you, I think, may be satisfied 
 with the warm acknowledgments he already 
 owes you for making him the principal figure 
 in a piece in which, but for your amicable 
 assistance, he might have passed without par- 
 ticular notice or distinction. 
 
 In justice to your friends, let your future 
 labours be confined to the care of your own 
 reputation. Your declaration, that you are 
 happy in seeing young noblemen come among 
 us, is liable to two objections. With respect 
 to lord Percy, it means nothing, for he was 
 already in the army. He was aid de camp to 
 the king, and had the rank of colonel. A 
 regiment therefore could not make him a 
 more military man, though it made him 
 richer, and, probably, at the expence of some 
 brave, deserving, friendless officer. The other 
 concerns yourself. After selling the compa- 
 nions of your victory in one instance, and 
 after selling your profession in the other, by 
 what authority do you presume to call your- 
 self a soldier ? The plain evidence of facts is
 
 50 
 
 superior to all declarations. Before you were 
 appointed to the sixteenth regiment, your 
 complaints were a distress to goverment ; from 
 that moment you were silent. The conclu- 
 sion is inevitable. You insinuate to us that 
 your ill state of health obliged you to quit 
 the service. The retirement necessary to re- 
 pair a broken constitution would have been 
 as good a reason for not accepting as for re- 
 signing the command of a regiment. There 
 is certainly an error of the press, or an af- 
 fected obscurity, in that paragraph where you 
 speak of your bargain with colonel Gisborne. 
 Instead of attempting to answer what I do 
 not really understand, permit me to explain 
 to the public what I really know. In ex- 
 change for your regiment you accepted of a 
 colonel's half pay (at least two hundred and 
 twenty pounds a year), and an annuity of 
 two hundred pounds for your own and lady 
 Draper's life jointly. And is this the losing 
 bargain, which you would represent to us as 
 if you had given up an income of eight hun- 
 dred pounds a year for three hundred and 
 eighty pounds? Was it decent, was it ho-
 
 51 
 
 nourable, in a man who pretends to love the 
 army, and calls himself a soldier, to make a 
 traffic of the royal favour, and turn the high- 
 est honour of an active profession into a sor- 
 did provision for himself and his family ? It 
 were unworthy of me to press you farther. 
 The contempt with which the whole army 
 heard of the manner of your retreat assures 
 me, that as your conduct was not justified by 
 precedent, it will never be thought an exam- 
 ple for imitation. 
 
 The last and most important question 
 remains. When you receive your half pay, 
 do you, or do you not, take a solemn oath, 
 or sign a declaration upon your honour, to 
 the following effect? That you do not ac- 
 tually hold any place of profit, civil or mili- 
 tary, under his majesty. The charge which 
 the question plainly conveys against you is of 
 so shocking a complexion, that I sincerely 
 wish you may be able to answer it well, not 
 merely for the colour of your reputation, 
 but for your own inward peace of mind. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 52 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 TO 
 
 J UN IUS. 
 
 SIR, 27 February, 1769. 
 
 I HAVE a very short answer for 
 Junius's important question : I do not either 
 take an oath, or declare upon honour, that 
 I have no place of profit, civil or military, 
 when I receive the half pay as an Irish co- 
 lonel. My most gracious sovereign gives it 
 me as a pension ; he was pleased to think I 
 deserved it. The annuity of two hundred 
 pounds Irish, and the equivalent for the half 
 pay together, produces no more than three 
 hundred and eighty pounds per annum, clear 
 of fees and perquisites of office. I receive 
 one hundred and sixty-seven pounds from my 
 government of Yarmouth. Total five hun- 
 dred and forty-seven pounds per annum. My
 
 , 53 
 
 conscience is much at ease in these particu- 
 lars ; my friends need not blush for me. 
 
 Junius makes much and frequent use of 
 interrogations: they are arms that may be 
 easily turned against himself. I could, by 
 malicious interrogation, disturb the peace of 
 the most virtuous man in the kingdom; I 
 could take the decalogue, and say to one 
 man, Did you never steal ? To the next, Did 
 you never commit murder ? And to Junius 
 himself, who is putting my life and conduct 
 to the rack, Did you never bear false witness 
 against thy neighbour? Junius must easily 
 see that, unless he affirms to the contrary in 
 his real name, some people, who may be as 
 ignorant of him as I am, will be apt to sus- 
 pect him of having deviated a little from the 
 truth : therefore let Junius ask no more ques- 
 tions. You bite against a file : cease, viper. 
 
 W. D.
 
 54 
 
 LETTER VIL 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DRAPER, K. B. 
 SIR 3 March, 1769. 
 
 AN academical education has given 
 you an unlimited command over the most 
 beautiful figures of speech. Masks, hatchets, 
 racks, and vipers, dance through your letters 
 in all the mazes of metaphorical confusion. 
 These are the gloomy companions of a dis- 
 turbed imagination ; the melancholy madness 
 of poetry, without the inspiration. I will not 
 contend with you in point of composition. 
 You are a scholar, sir William ; and, if I am 
 truly informed, you write Latin with almost 
 as much purity as English. Suffer me then, 
 for I am a plain unlettered man, to continue 
 that stile of interrogation which suits my ca- 
 pacity, and to which, considering the readi-
 
 55 
 
 ness of your answers, you ought to have no 
 objection. Even Mr. Bingley f promises to 
 answer, if put to the torture. 
 
 Do you then really think that, if I were to 
 ask a most virtuous man whether he ever 
 committed theft, or murder, it would disturb 
 his peace of mind? Such a question might 
 perhaps discompose the gravity of his mus- 
 cles, but I believe it would little affect the 
 tranquillity of his conscience. Examine your 
 own breast, sir William, and you will dis- 
 cover that reproaches and inquiries have no 
 power to afflict either the man of unblemished 
 integrity, or the abandoned profligate. It is 
 the middle compound character which alone 
 is vulnerable : the man who, without firmness 
 enough to avoid a dishonourable action, has 
 feeling enough to be ashamed of it. 
 
 I thank you for the hint of the decalogue, 
 and shall take an opportunity of applying it 
 to some of your most virtuous friends in both 
 houses of parliament.
 
 56 
 
 You seem to have dropped the affair of 
 your regiment ; so let it rest. When you are 
 appointed to another, I dare say you will not 
 sell it either for a gross sum, or for an annuity 
 upon lives. 
 
 I am truly glad (for really, sir William, I 
 am not your enemy, nor did I begin this con- 
 test with you) that you have been able to clear 
 yourself of a crime, though at the expence of 
 the highest indiscretion. You say that your 
 half pay was given you by way of pension. 
 I will not dwell upon the singularity of 
 uniting in your own person two sorts of pro- 
 vision, which in their own nature, and in all 
 military and parliamentary views, are incom- 
 patible; but I call upon you to justify that 
 declaration wherein you charge your sove- 
 reign with having done an act in your favour 
 notoriously against law. The half pay, both 
 in Ireland and England, is appropriated by 
 parliament; and if it be given to persons 
 who, like you, are legally incapable of hold- 
 ing it, it is a breach of law. It would have
 
 been more decent in you to have called this 
 dishonourable transaction by its true name; 
 a job to accommodate two persons, by parti- 
 cular interest and management, at the castle. 
 What sense must government have had of 
 your services, when the rewards they have 
 given you are only a disgrace to you ! 
 
 And now, sir William,* I shall take my 
 leave of you for ever. Motives very different 
 from any apprehension of your resentment, 
 make it impossible you should ever know me. 
 In truth, you have some reason to hold your- 
 self indebted to me. From the lessons I have 
 given you, you may collect a profitable in- 
 struction for your own future life. They will 
 either teach you so to regulate your conduct 
 as to be able to set the most malicious in- 
 quiries at defiance ; or, if that be a lost hope, 
 they will teach you prudence enough not to 
 attract the public attention to a character 
 which will only pass without censure when 
 it passes without observation. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 58 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE DUKE OF GRAFT ON. 
 MY LORD, 18 March, 1769. 
 
 BEFORE you were placed at 
 the head of affairs, it had been a maxim of 
 the English government, not unwillingly ad- 
 mitted by the people, that every ungracious 
 or severe exertion of the prerogative, should 
 be placed to the account of the minister ; but 
 that, whenever an act of grace or benevolence 
 was to be performed, the whole merit of it 
 should be attributed to the sovereign himself. 
 It was a wise doctrine, my lord, and equally 
 advantageous to the king and his subjects; 
 for while it preserved that suspicious atten- 
 tion with which the people ought always to 
 examine the conduct of ministers, it tended 
 at the same time rather to increase than di-
 
 DUKE o GRAF TON.
 
 50 
 
 minish their attachment to the person of their 
 sovereign. If there be not a fatality attend- 
 ing every measure you are concerned in, by 
 what treacheiy, or by what excess of folly, has 
 it happened, that those ungracious acts which 
 have distinguished your administration, and 
 which, I doubt not, were entirely your own, 
 should carry with them a strong appearance 
 of personal interest, and even of personal en- 
 mity, in a quarter where no such interest or 
 enmity can be supposed to exist, without the 
 highest injustice and the highest dishonour? 
 On the other hand, by what judicious ma- 
 nagement have you contrived it, that the only 
 act of mercy to which you ever advised your 
 sovereign, far from adding to the lustre of 
 a character, truly gracious and benevolent, 
 should be received with universal disappro- 
 bation and disgust? I shall consider it as a 
 ministerial measure, because it is an odious 
 one; and as your measure, my lord duke, be- 
 cause you are the minister. 
 
 As long as the trial of this chairman was 
 depending, it was natural enough that go-
 
 6o 
 
 vernment should give him every possible en- 
 couragement and support. The honourable 
 service for which he was hired, and the spirit 
 with which he performed it, made common 
 cause between your grace and him. The mi- 
 nister, who by secret corruption invades the 
 freedom of elections, and the ruffian, who by 
 open violence destroys that freedom, are em- 
 barked in the same bottom. They have the 
 same interests, and mutually feel for each 
 other. To do justice to your grace's huma- 
 nity, you felt for Mac Quirk as you ought 
 to do ; and, if you had been contented to 
 assist him indirectly, without a notorious de- 
 nial of justice, or openly insulting the sense 
 of the nation, you might have satisfied every 
 duty of political friendship, without commit- 
 ting the honour of your sovereign, or hazard- 
 ing the reputation of his government. But 
 when this unhappy man had been solemnly 
 tried, convicted, and condemned ; when it 
 appeared that he had been frequently em- 
 ployed in the same services, and that no ex- 
 cuse for him could be drawn either from the 
 innocence of his former life, or the simpli-
 
 61 
 
 city of his character, was it not hazarding 
 too much to interpose the strength of the pre- 
 rogative between this felon and the justice of 
 his country ? h You ought to have known 
 that an example of this sort was never so ne- 
 cessary as at present ; and certainly you must 
 have known that the lot could not have fallen 
 upon a more guilty object. What system of 
 government is this ? You are perpetually 
 complaining of the riotous disposition of the 
 lower class of people, yet when the laws have 
 given you the means of making an example, 
 in every sense unexceptionable, and by far 
 the most likely to awe the multitude, you 
 pardon the offence, and are not ashamed to 
 give the sanction of government to the riots 
 you complain of, and even to future murders. 
 You are partial perhaps to the military mode 
 of execution, and had rather see a score of 
 these wretches butchered by the guards, than 
 one of them suffer death by regular course of 
 law. How does it happen, my lord, that, in 
 your hands, even the mercy of the preroga- 
 tive is cruelty and oppression to the subject ?
 
 62 
 
 The measure, it seems, was so extraordi- 
 nary, that you thought it necessary to give 
 some reasons for it to the public. Let them 
 be fairly examined. 
 
 1. You say that Messrs. Bromfield and 
 Starling were not examined at Mac Quirk's 
 trial. I will tell your grace why they were 
 not. They must have been examined upon 
 oath ; and it was foreseen that their evidence 
 would either not benefit, or might be preju- 
 dicial to the prisoner. Otherwise, is it con- 
 ceivable, that his counsel should neglect to 
 call in such material evidence ? 
 
 You say that Mr. Foot did not see the 
 deceased until after his death. A surgeon, 
 my lord, must know very little of his profes- 
 sion if, upon examining a wound or a con- 
 tusion, he cannot determine whether it was 
 mortal or not. While the party is alive a 
 surgeon will be cautious of pronouncing ; 
 whereas by the death of the patient he is 
 enabled to consider both cause and effect in
 
 63 
 
 one view, and to speak with a certainty con- 
 filmed by experience. 
 
 Yet we are to thank your grace for the 
 establishment of a new tribunal. Your in- 
 quisitio post mortem is unknown to the laws 
 of England, and does honour to your inven- 
 tion. The only material objection to it is, that 
 if Mr. Foot's evidence was sufficient, because 
 he did not examine the wound till after the 
 death of the party, much less can a negative 
 opinion, given by gentlemen who never saw 
 the body of Mr. Clarke either before or after 
 his decease, authorise you to supersede the 
 verdict of a jury, and the sentence of the law. 
 
 Now, my lord, let me ask you, Has it ne- 
 ver occurred to your grace, while you were 
 withdrawing this desperate wretch from that 
 justice which the laws had awarded, and 
 which the whole people of England demand- 
 ed against him, that there is another man, 
 who is the favourite of his country, whose 
 pardon would have been accepted with gra- 
 titude, whose pardon would have healed all
 
 64 
 
 our divisions ? Have you quite forgotten that 
 this man was once your grace's friend ? Or 
 is it to murderers only that you will extend 
 the mercy of the crown ? 
 
 These are questions you will not answer, 
 nor is it necessary. The character of your 
 private life, and the uniform tenour of your 
 public conduct, is an answer to them all. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 LETTER IX, 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 MY LORD, 10 April, 1769. 
 
 I HAVE so good an opinion 
 of your grace's discernment, that when the 
 author of the vindication of your conduct as- 
 sures us that he writes from his own mere 
 notion, without the least authority from your 
 grace, I should be ready enough to believe 
 him, but for one fatal mark, which seems to 
 be fixed upon every measure in which either 
 your personal or your political character is 
 concerned. Your first attempt to support sir 
 William Proctor ended in the election of Mr. 
 Wilkes; the second ensured success to Mr. 
 Glynn. The extraordinary step you took to 
 make sir James Lowther lord paramount of 
 Cumberland, has ruined his interest in that 
 county for ever. The house list of directors
 
 66 
 
 was' cursed with the concurrence of govern- 
 ment ; and even the miserable Dingley ' could 
 not escape the misfortune of your grace's pro- 
 tection. With this uniform experience before 
 us, we are authorised to suspect, that when 
 a pretended vindication of your principles 
 and conduct in reality contains the bitterest 
 reflections upon both, it could not have been 
 written without your immediate direction and 
 assistance. The author indeed calls God to 
 witness for him, with all the sincerity and in 
 the very terms of an Irish evidence, to the 
 best of his knowledge and belief. My lord, 
 you should not encourage these appeals to 
 Heaven. The pious prince, from whom you 
 are supposed to descend, made such frequent 
 use of them in his public declarations, that 
 at last the people also found it necessary to 
 appeal to Heaven in their turn. Your admi- 
 nistration has driven us into circumstances of 
 equal distress; beware at least how you re- 
 mind us of the remedy. 
 
 You have already much to answer for. 
 You have provoked this unhappy gentleman
 
 67 
 
 to play the fool once more in public life, in 
 spite of his years and infirmities, and to shew 
 us that, as you yourself are a singular in- 
 stance of youth without spirit, the man who 
 defends you is a no less remarkable example 
 of age without the benefits of experience. To 
 follow such a writer minutely would, like his 
 own periods, be a labour without end. The 
 subject too has been already discussed, and 
 is sufficiently understood. I cannot help ob- 
 serving, however, that, when the pardon of 
 Mac Quirk was the principal charge against 
 you, it would have been but a decent compli- 
 ment to your grace's understanding to have de- 
 fended you upon your own principles. What 
 credit does a man deserve who tells us plainly 
 that the facts set forth in the king's procla- 
 mation were not the true motives on which 
 the pardon was granted, and that he wishes 
 that those chirurgical reports, which first gave 
 occasion to certain doubts in the royal breast, 
 had not been laid before his majesty. You 
 see, my lord, that even your friends cannot 
 defend your actions without changing your 
 principles, nor justify a deliberate measure of
 
 68 
 
 government without contradicting the main 
 assertion on which it was founded. 
 
 The conviction of Mac Quirk had reduced 
 you to a dilemma in which it was hardly pos- 
 sible for you to reconcile your political inte- 
 rest with your duty. You were obliged either 
 to abandon an active useful partisan, or to 
 protect a felon from public justice. With 
 your usual spirit you preferred your interest 
 to every other consideration ; and with your 
 usual judgment you founded your determi- 
 nation upon the only motives which should 
 not have been given to the public. 
 
 I have frequently censured Mr. Wilkes's 
 conduct, yet your advocate reproaches me 
 with having devoted myself to the service of 
 sedition. Your grace can best inform us for 
 which of Mr.Wilkes's good qualities you first 
 honoured him with your friendship, or how 
 long it was before you discovered those bad 
 ones in him at which, it seems, your delicacy 
 was offended. Remember, my lord, that you 
 continued your connexion with Mr.Wilkes
 
 69 
 
 long after he had been convicted of those 
 crimes which you have since taken pains to 
 represent in the blackest colours of blasphemy 
 and treason. How unlucky is it that the first 
 instance you have given us of a scrupulous 
 regard to decorum is united with the breach 
 of a moral obligation ! For my own part, my 
 lord, I am proud to affirm that, if I had been 
 weak enough to form such a friendship, I 
 would never have been base enough to be- 
 tray it. But, let Mr. Wilkes's character be 
 what it may, this at least is certain, that, cir- 
 cumstanced as he is with regard to the pub- 
 lic, even his vices plead for him. The peo- 
 ple of England have too much discernment 
 to suffer your grace to take advantage of the 
 failings of a private character, to establish a 
 precedent by which the public liberty is af- 
 fected, and which you may hereafter, with 
 equal ease and satisfaction, employ to the 
 ruin of the best men in the kingdom. Con- 
 tent yourself, my lord, with the many advan- 
 tages which the unsullied purity of your own 
 character has given you over your unhappy 
 deserted friend. Avail yourself of all the un-
 
 70 
 
 forgiving piety of the court you live in, and 
 bless God that you e are not as other men 
 ( are ; extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even 
 ( as this publican/ In a heart void of feel- 
 ing the laws of honour and good faith may 
 be violated with impunity, and there you may 
 safely indulge your genius. But the laws of 
 England shall not be violated, even by your 
 holy zeal to oppress a sinner; and, though 
 you have succeeded in making him a tool, 
 you shall not make him the victim of your 
 ambition. 
 
 J U N I U S.
 
 71 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. EDWARD WEST ON. 
 
 SIB, 21 April, 1769- 
 
 I SAID you were an old man with- 
 out the benefit of experience. It seems you 
 are also a volunteer with the stipend of twenty 
 commissions; and, at a period when all pros- 
 pects are at an end, you are still looking for- 
 ward to rewards which you cannot enjoy. No 
 man is better acquainted with the bounty of 
 government than you are : 
 
 ton impudence, 
 
 Temeraire vieillard, aura fa recompense. 
 
 But I will not descend to an altercation 
 either with the impotence of your age, or the 
 peevishness of your diseases. Your pamphlet, 
 ingenious as it is, has been so little read, that
 
 72 
 
 the public cannot know how far you have a 
 right to give me the lie without the follow- 
 ing citation of your own words. 
 
 Page 6. ' l. That he is persuaded that 
 ( the motives which he (Mr. Weston) has al- 
 6 ledged must appear fully sufficient, with or 
 ( without the opinions of the surgeons. 
 
 ' 2. That those very motives must have 
 
 * been the foundation on which the earl of 
 ' Rochford thought proper,' &c. 
 
 ' 3. That he cannot but regret that the 
 c earl of Rochford seems to have thought pro- 
 f per to lay the chirurgical reports before the 
 
 * king, in preference to all the other sufficient 
 ' motives/ &c. 
 
 Let the public determine whether tins be 
 defending government on their principles or 
 your own. 
 
 The style and language you have adopted 
 are, I confess, not ill suited to the elegance
 
 73 
 
 of your own manners, or to the dignity of the 
 cause you have undertaken. Every common 
 dauber writes rascal and villain under his pic- 
 tures, because the pictures themselves have 
 neither character nor resemblance. But the 
 works of a master require no index. His fea- 
 tures and colouring are taken from nature. 
 The impression they make is immediate and 
 uniform ; nor is it possible to mistake his cha- 
 racters, whether they represent the treachery 
 of a minister, or the abused simplicity of a 
 king. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 MY LORD, 24 April, l/Gp. 
 
 THE system you seemed to 
 have adopted when lord Chatham unexpect- 
 edly left you at the head of affairs, gave 
 us no promise of that uncommon exertion 
 of vigour which has since illustrated your 
 character, and distinguished your adminis- 
 tration. Far from discovering a spirit bold 
 enough to invade the first rights of the peo- 
 ple, and the first principles of the consti- 
 tution, you were scrupulous of exercising 
 even those powers with which the executive 
 branch of the legislature is legally invested. 
 We have not yet forgotten how long Mr. 
 Wilkes was suffered to appear at large, nor 
 how long he was at liberty to canvass for
 
 75 
 
 the city and county, with all the terrors of 
 an outlawry hanging over him. Our gra- 
 cious sovereign has not yet forgotten the ex- 
 traordinary care you took of his dignity and 
 of the safety of his person, when, at a crisis 
 which courtiers affected to call alarming, 
 you left the metropolis exposed for two nights 
 together to every species of riot and disorder. 
 The security of the royal residence from in- 
 sult was then sufficiently provided for in 
 Mr. Conway's firmness and lord Weymouth's 
 discretion ; while the prime minister of Great 
 Britain, in a rural retirement, and in the 
 arms of faded beauty, had lost all memory 
 of his sovereign, his country, and himself. 
 In these instances you might have acted with 
 vigour, for you would have had the sanction 
 of the laws to support you. The friends 
 of government might have defended you 
 without shame, and moderate men, who 
 wish well to the peace and good order of 
 society, might have had a pretence for ap- 
 plauding your conduct. But these it seems 
 were not occasions worthy of your grace's 
 interposition. You reserved the proofs of
 
 76 
 
 your intrepid spirit for trials of greater ha- 
 zard and importance; and now, as if the 
 most disgraceful relaxation of the executive 
 authority had given you a claim of credit 
 to indulge in excesses still more dangerous, 
 you seem determined to compensate amply 
 for your former negligence, and to balance 
 the non-execution of the laws with a breach 
 of the constitution. From one extreme you 
 suddenly start to the other, without leaving, 
 between the weakness and the fury of the 
 passions, one moment's interval for the firm- 
 ness of the understanding. 
 
 These observations, general as they are. 
 might easily be extended into a faithful his- 
 tory of your grace's administration, and per- 
 haps may be the employment of a future 
 hour. But the business of the present mo- 
 ment will not suffer me to look back to a 
 series of events, which cease to be interesting 
 or important, because they are succeeded by 
 a measure so singularly daring, that it excites 
 all our attention, and engrosses all our resent- 
 ment.
 
 77 
 
 Your patronage of Mr. Luttrell has been 
 crowned with success. With this precedent 
 before you, with the principles on which 
 it was established, and with a future house 
 of commons, perhaps less virtuous than the 
 present, every county in England, under 
 the auspices of the treasury, may be re- 
 presented as completely as the county of 
 Middlesex. Posterity will be indebted to 
 your grace for not contenting yourself with 
 a temporary expedient, but entailing upon 
 them the immediate blessings of your admi- 
 nistration. Boroughs were already too much 
 at the mercy of government. Counties could 
 neither be purchased nor intimidated. But 
 their solemn determined election may be 
 rejected, and the man they detest may be 
 appointed, by another choice, to represent 
 them in parliament. Yet it is admitted 
 that the sheriffs obeyed the laws and per- 
 formed their duty. k The return they made 
 must have been legal and valid, or undoubt- 
 edly they would have been censured for 
 making it. With every good-natured al- 
 lowance for your grace's youth and inex-
 
 78 
 
 perience, there are some things which you 
 cannot but know. You cannot but know 
 that the right of the freeholders to adhere 
 to their choice (even supposing it impro- 
 perly exerted) was as clear and indisputable 
 as that of the house of commons to exclude 
 one of their own members: nor is it pos- 
 sible for you not to see the wide distance 
 there is between the negative power of re- 
 jecting one man, and the positive power of 
 appointing another. The right of expulsion, 
 in the most favourable sense, is no more 
 than the custom of parliament. The right 
 of election is the very essence of the con- 
 stitution. To violate that right, and much 
 more to transfer it to any other set of men, is 
 a step leading immediately to the dissolution 
 of all government. So far forth as it operates, 
 it constitues a house of commons which does 
 not represent the people. A house of com- 
 mons so formed, would involve a contradiction 
 and the grossest confusion of ideas ; but there 
 are some ministers, my lord, whose views 
 can only be answered by reconciling ab- 
 surdities, and making the same proposition,
 
 79 
 
 which is false and absurd in argument, true 
 in fact. 
 
 This measure, my lord, is however at- 
 tended with one consequence favourable to 
 the people, which I am persuaded you did 
 not foresee. While the contest lay between 
 the ministry and Mr. Wilkes, his situation 
 and private character gave you advantages 
 over him which common candour, if not 
 the memory of your former friendship, should 
 have forbidden you to make use of. To 
 religious men you had an opportunity of 
 exaggerating the irregularities of his past 
 life; to moderate men you held forth the 
 pernicious consequences of faction. Men 
 who, with this character, looked no farther 
 than to the object before them, were not 
 dissatisfied at seeing Mr. Wilkes excluded 
 from parliament. You have now taken care 
 to shift the question; or, rather, you have 
 created a new one, in which Mr. Wilkes 
 is no more concerned than any other English 
 gentleman. You have united this country 
 against you on one grand constitutional point,
 
 80 
 
 on the decision of which our existence as a 
 free people absolutely depends. You have 
 asserted, not in words, but in fact, that the 
 representation in parliament does not depend 
 upon the choice of the freeholders* If such 
 a case can possibly happen once, it may hap- 
 pen frequently ; it may happen always : and 
 if three hundred votes, by any mode of rea- 
 soning whatever, can prevail against twelve 
 hundred, the same reasoning would equally 
 have given Mr. Luttrell his seat with ten 
 votes, or even with one. The consequences 
 of this attack upon the constitution are too 
 plain and palpable not to alarm the dullest 
 apprehension. I trust you will find that the 
 people of England are neither deficient in 
 spirit nor understanding, though you have 
 treated them as if they had neither sense to 
 feel, nor spirit to resent. We have reason to 
 thank God and our ancestors, that there never 
 yet was a minister in this country who could 
 stand the issue of such a conflict ; and, with 
 every prejudice in favour of your intentions, 
 I see no such abilities in your grace as should 
 entitle you to succeed in an enterprise in
 
 81 
 
 which the ablest and basest of your prede- 
 cessors have found their destruction. You 
 may continue to deceive your gracious master 
 with false representations of the temper and 
 condition of his subjects. You may com- 
 mand a venal vote, because it is the common 
 established appendage of your office. But 
 never hope that the freeholders will make a 
 tame surrender of their rights, or that an Eng- 
 lish army will join with you in overturning 
 the liberties of their country. They know 
 that their first duty, as citizens, is paramount 
 to all subsequent engagements, nor will they 
 prefer the discipline, nor even the honours of 
 their profession, to those sacred original rights 
 which belonged to them before they were sol- 
 diers, and which they claim and possess as 
 the birthright of Englishmen. 
 
 Return, my lord, before it be too late, to 
 that easy insipid system which you first set 
 out with. Take back your mistress; 1 the 
 name of friend may be fatal to her, for it 
 leads to treachery and persecution. Indulge 
 the people. Attend Newmarket. Mr. Lut-
 
 82 
 
 trell may again vacate his seat; and Mr. 
 Wilkes, if not persecuted, will soon be for- 
 gotten. To be weak and inactive is safer than 
 to be daring and criminal ; and wide is the 
 distance between a riot of the populace and a 
 convulsion of the whole kingdom. You may 
 live to make the experiment, but no honest 
 man can wish you should survive it. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 83 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 MY LORD, 30 May, 1769. 
 
 IF the measures in which 
 you have been most successful had been sup- 
 ported by any tolerable appearance of argu- 
 ment, I should have thought my time not ill 
 employed in continuing to examine your con- 
 duct as a minister, and stating it fairly to the 
 public. But when I see questions of the high- 
 est national importance carried as they have 
 been, and the first principles of the consti- 
 tution openly violated, without argument or 
 decency, I confess I give up the cause in 
 despair. The meanest of your predecessors 
 had abilities sufficient to give a colour to 
 their measures. If they invaded the rights of 
 the people, they did not dare to offer a direct
 
 84 
 
 insult to their understanding ; and, in former 
 times, the most venal parliaments made it a 
 condition, in their bargain with the minister, 
 that he should furnish them with some plau- 
 sible pretences for selling their country and 
 themselves. You have had the merit of in- 
 troducing a more compendious system of go- 
 vernment and logic. You neither address 
 yourself to the passions, nor to the under- 
 standing, but simply to the touch. You ap- 
 ply yourself immediately to the feelings of 
 your friends, who, contrary to the forms of 
 parliament, never enter heartily into a debate 
 until they have divided. 
 
 Relinquishing, therefore, all idle views of 
 amendment to your grace, or of benefit to the 
 public, let me be permitted to consider your 
 character and conduct merely as a subject of 
 curious speculation. There is something in 
 both which distinguishes you not only from 
 all other ministers, but all other men. It is 
 not that you do wrong by design, but that 
 you should never do right by mistake. It is 
 not that your indolence and your activity
 
 85 
 
 have been equally misapplied, but that the 
 first uniform principle, or, if I may call it the 
 genius of your life, should have carried you 
 through every possible change and contra- 
 diction of conduct, without the momentary 
 imputation or colour of a virtue ; and that the 
 wildest spirit of inconsistency should never 
 once have betrayed you into a wise or ho- 
 nourable action. This, I own, gives an air 
 of singularity to your fortune, as well as to 
 your disposition. Let us look back together 
 to a scene in which a mind like yours will 
 find nothing to repent of. Let us try, my 
 lord, how well you have supported the va- 
 rious relations in which you stood to your 
 sovereign, your country, your friends, and 
 yourself. Give us, if it be possible, some ex- 
 cuse to posterity, and to ourselves, for sub- 
 mitting to your administration. If not the 
 abilities of a great minister, if not the inte- 
 grity of a patriot, or the fidelity of a friend, 
 shew us, at least, the firmness of a man. For 
 the sake of your mistress, the lover shall be 
 spared. I will not lead her into public, as 
 you have done, nor will I insult the memory
 
 86 
 
 of departed beauty. Her sex, which alone 
 made her amiable in your eyes, makes her 
 respectable in mine. 
 
 The character of the reputed ancestors of 
 some men has made it possible for their de- 
 scendants to be vicious in the extreme, with- 
 out being degenerate. Those of your grace, 
 for instance, left no distressing examples of 
 virtue, even to their legitimate posterity, and 
 you may look back with pleasure to an illus- 
 trious pedigree, in which heraldry has not 
 left a single good quality upon record to in- 
 sult or upbraid you. You have better proofs 
 of your descent, my lord, than the register of 
 a marriage, or any troublesome inheritance of 
 reputation. There are some hereditary strokes 
 of character by which a family may be as 
 clearly distinguished as by the blackest fea- 
 tures of the human face. Charles the First 
 lived and died a hypocrite. Charles the Se- 
 cond was a hypocrite of another sort, and 
 should have died upon the same scaffold. At 
 the distance of a century, we see their dif- 
 ferent characters happily revived, and blended
 
 MARQUIS of ROCKINGHAM. 
 
 Vernor .V Hood, in "J> ',?<,/>
 
 87 
 
 in your grace. Sullen and severe without 
 religion, profligate without gaiety, you live 
 like Charles the Second, without being an 
 amiable companion, and, for aught I know, 
 may die as his father did, without the repu- 
 tation of a martyr. 
 
 You had already taken your degrees with 
 credit in those schools in which the English 
 nobility are formed to virtue, when you wore 
 introduced to lord Chatham's protection. 
 From Newmarket, White's, and the oppo- 
 sition, he gave you to the world with an air 
 of popularity which young men usually set 
 out with, and seldom preserve: grave and 
 plausible enough to be thought fit for busi- 
 ness; too young for treachery; and, in short, 
 a patriot of no unpromising expectations. 
 Lord Chatham was the earliest object of your 
 political wonder and attachment; yet you 
 deserted him upon the first hopes that offered 
 of an equal share of power with lord Rock- 
 ingham. When the duke of Cumberland's 
 first negociation failed, and when the fa- 
 vourite was pushed to the last extremity, you
 
 88 
 
 saved him by joining with an administration 
 in which lord Chatham had refused to en- 
 gage. Still, however, he was your friend, and 
 you are yet to explain to the world, why you 
 consented to act without him, or why, after 
 uniting with lord Rockingham, you deserted 
 and betrayed him. You complained that no 
 measures were taken to satisfy your patron, 
 and that your friend, Mr. Wilkes, who had 
 suffered so much for the party, had been 
 abandoned to his fate. They have since con- 
 tributed, not a little, to your present pleni- 
 tude of power; yet, I think, lord Chatham 
 has less reason than ever to be satisfied ; and 
 as for Mr. Wilkes, it is, perhaps, the greatest 
 misfortune of his life, that you should have 
 so many compensations to make in the closet 
 for your former friendship with him. Your 
 gracious master understands your character, 
 and makes you a prosecutor, because you 
 have been a friend. 
 
 Lord Chatham formed his last adminis- 
 tration upon principles which you certainly 
 concurred in, or you could never have been
 
 89 
 
 placed at the head of the treasury. By de- 
 serting those principles, and by acting in 
 direct contradiction to them, in which he 
 found you were secretly supported in the 
 closet, you soon forced him to leave you to 
 yourself, and to withdraw his name from an 
 administration which had been formed on 
 the credit of it. You had then a prospect of 
 friendships better suited to your genius, and 
 more likely to fix your disposition. Marriage 
 is the point on which every rake is stationary 
 at last; and truly, my lord, you may well be 
 weary of the circuit you have taken, for you 
 have now fairly travelled through every sign 
 in the political zodiac, from the scorpion in 
 which you stung lord Chatham, to the hopes 
 of a virgin in the house of Bloomsbury. 
 One would think that you had had sufficient 
 experience of the frailty of nuptial engage- 
 ments, or, at least, that such a friendship as 
 the duke of Bedford's, might have been se- 
 cured to you by the auspicious marriage of 
 your late duchess with" his nephew. But ties 
 of this tender nature cannot be drawn too 
 close ; and it may possibly be a part of the
 
 90 
 
 duke of Bedford's ambition, after making her 
 an honest woman, to work a miracle of the 
 same sort upon your grace. This worthy 
 nobleman has long dealt in virtue. There 
 has been a large consumption of it in his own 
 family ; and, in the way of traffic, I dare say, 
 he has bought and sold more than half the 
 representative integrity of the nation. 
 
 In a political view, this union is not im- 
 prudent. The favour of princes is a perish- 
 able commodity. You have now a strength 
 sufficient to command the closet; and, if it 
 be necessary to betray one friendship more, 
 you may set even lord Bute at defiance. 
 Mr. Stuart Mackenzie may possibly remem- 
 ber what use the duke of Bedford usually 
 makes of his power; and our gracious sove- 
 reign, I doubt not, rejoices at the first appear- 
 ance of union among his servants. His late 
 majesty, under the happy influence of a fa- 
 mily connexion between his ministers, was 
 relieved from the cares of the government. 
 A more active prince may perhaps observe^ 
 with suspicion, by what degrees an artful
 
 91 
 
 servant grows upon his master, from the first 
 unlimited professions of duty and attachment, 
 to the painful representation of the necessity 
 of the royal service, and soon, in regular pro- 
 gression, to the humble insolence of dictating 
 in all the obsequious forms of peremptory 
 submission. The interval is carefully em- 
 ployed in forming connexions, creating in- 
 terests, collecting a party, and laying the 
 foundation of double marriages; until the 
 deluded prince, who thought he had found 
 a creature prostituted to his service, and in- 
 significant enough to be always dependent 
 upon his pleasure, finds him at last too strong 
 to be commanded, and too formidable to be 
 removed. 
 
 Your grace's public conduct, as a minis- 
 ter, is but the counter part of your private 
 history; the same inconsistency, the same 
 contradictions. In America we trace you, 
 from the first opposition to the stamp act, 
 on principles of convenience, to Mr. Pitt's 
 surrender of the right ; then forward to lord 
 Rockingham's surrender of the fact; then
 
 92 
 
 back again to lord Rockingham's declaration 
 of the right; then forward to taxation with 
 Mr. Townshend; and in the last instance, 
 from the gentle Conway's undetermined dis- 
 cretion, to blood and compulsion with the 
 duke of Bedford. Yet, if we may believe the 
 simplicity of lord North's eloquence, at the 
 opening of next sessions you are once more 
 to be the patron of America. Is this the 
 wisdom of a great minister ? or is it the omi- 
 nous vibration of a pendulum? Had you 
 no opinion of your own, my lord ? or was it 
 the gratification of betraying every party with 
 which you have been united, and of deserting 
 every political principle in which you had 
 concurred ? 
 
 Your enemies may turn their eyes with- 
 out regret from this admirable system of pro- 
 vincial government. They will find gratifi- 
 cation enough in the survey of your domestic 
 and foreign policy. 
 
 If, instead of disowning lord Shelburne, 
 the British court had interposed with dignity
 
 93 
 
 and firmness, you know, my lord, that Cor- 
 sica would never have been invaded. The 
 French saw the weakness of a distracted mi- 
 nistry, and were justified in treating you with 
 contempt. They would probably have yield- 
 ed in the first instance, rather than hazard a 
 rupture with this country; but, being once 
 engaged, they cannot retreat without disho- 
 nour. Common sense foresees consequences 
 which have escaped your grace's penetration. 
 Either we suffer the French to make an ac- 
 quisition, the importance of which you have 
 probably no conception of, or we oppose 
 them by an underhand management, which 
 only disgraces us in the eyes of Europe, 
 without answering any purpose of policy or 
 prudence. From secret, indirect assistance, a 
 transition to some more open decisive mea- 
 sures becomes unavoidable ; till at last we find 
 ourselves principal in the war, and are ob- 
 liged to hazard every thing for an object, 
 which might have originally been obtained 
 without expence or danger. I am not versed 
 in the politics of the north; but this I be- 
 lieve is certain, that half the money you have
 
 94 
 
 distributed to carry the expulsion of Mr. 
 Wilkes, or even your secretary's share in the 
 last subscription, would have kept the Turks 
 at your devotion. Was it economy, my lord ? 
 or did the coy resistance you have constantly 
 met with in the British senate, make you de- 
 spair of corrupting the Divan ? Your friends, 
 indeed, have the first claim upon your bounty, 
 but if five hundred pounds a year can be spared 
 in pension to sir John Moore, it would not 
 have disgraced you to have allowed something 
 to the secret service of the public. 
 
 You will say, perhaps, that the situation 
 of affairs at home demanded and engrossed 
 the whole of your attention. Here, I confess, 
 you have been active. An amiable, accom- 
 plished prince ascends the throne under the 
 happiest of all auspices, the acclamations and 
 united affections of his subjects. The first 
 measures of his reign, and even the odium of 
 a favourite, were not able to shake their at- 
 tachment. Your services, my lord, have been 
 more successful. Since you were permitted 
 to take the lead, we have seen the natural
 
 95 
 
 effects of a system of government at once 
 both odious and contemptible. We have 
 seen the laws sometimes scandalously relaxed, 
 sometimes violently stretched beyond their 
 tone. We have seen the person of the sove- 
 reign insulted; and in profound peace, and 
 with an undisputed title, the fidelity of his 
 subjects brought by his own servants into 
 public question. Without abilities, resolu- 
 tion, or interest, you have done more than 
 lord Bute could accomplish with all Scotland 
 at his heels. 
 
 Your grace, little anxious perhaps either 
 for present or future reputation, will not de- 
 sire to be handed down in these colours to 
 posterity. You have reason to flatter your- 
 self that the memory of your administration 
 will survive even the forms of a constitution, 
 which our ancestors vainly hoped would be 
 immortal; and as for your personal charac- 
 ter, I will not, for the honour of human 
 nature, suppose that you can wish to have it 
 remembered. The condition of the present 
 times is desperate indeed ; but there is a debt
 
 due to those who come after us, and it is the 
 historian's office to punish, though he cannot 
 correct. I do not give you to posterity as a 
 pattern to imitate, but as an example to deter; 
 and as your conduct comprehends every thing 
 that a wise or honest minister should avoid, 
 I mean to make you a negative instruction to 
 your successors for ever. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 97 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 12 June, 1769. 
 
 THE duke of Grafton's friends, 
 not finding it convenient to enter into a 
 contest with Junius, are now reduced to 
 the last melancholy resource of defeated ar- 
 gument, the flat general charge of scurrility 
 and falsehood. As for his style, I shall 
 leave it to the critics. The truth of his 
 facts is of more importance to the public. 
 They are of such a nature, that I think a 
 bare contradiction will have no weight with 
 any man who judges for himself. Let us 
 take them in the order in which they appear 
 in his last letter. 
 
 1 . Have not the first rights of the people, 
 I H
 
 98 
 
 and the first principles of the constitution, 
 been openly invaded, and the very name of 
 an election made ridiculous, by the arbitrary 
 appointment of Mr. Luttrell ? 
 
 2. Did not the duke of Grafton fre- 
 quently lead his mistress into public, and 
 even place her at the head of his table, as if 
 he had pulled down an ancient temple of 
 Venus, arid could bury all decency and 
 shame under the ruins? Is this the man 
 who dares to talk of Mr. Wilkes's mo- 
 rals? 
 
 3. Is not the character of his presump- 
 tive ancestors as strongly marked in him as 
 if he had descended from them in a direct 
 legitimate line ? The idea of his death is only 
 prophetic ; and what is prophecy but a nar- 
 rative preceding the fact ! 
 
 4. Was not lord Chatham the first who 
 raised him to the rank and post of a minister, 
 and the first whom he abandoned ?
 
 99 
 
 5. Did he not join with lord Rocking- 
 ham, and betray him ? 
 
 6. Was he not the bosom friend of 
 Mr. Wilkes, whom he now pursues to de- 
 struction ? 
 
 7- Did he not take his degrees with 
 credit at Newmarket, White's, and the op- 
 position ? 
 
 8. After deserting lord Chatham's prin- 
 ciples, and sacrificing his friendship, is he 
 not now closely united with a set of men 
 who, though they have occasionally joined 
 with all parties, have in every different situ- 
 ation, and at all times, been equally and con- 
 stantly detested by this country ? 
 
 9. Has not sir John Moore a pension of 
 five hundred pounds a year ? This may pro- 
 bably be an acquittance of favours upon the 
 turf; but is it possible for a minister to offer 
 a grosser outrage to a nation which has so 
 very lately cleared away the beggary of the
 
 100 
 
 civil list, at the expence of more than half a 
 million ? 
 
 10. Is there any one mode of thinking or 
 acting with respect to America, which the 
 duke of Grafton has not successively adopted 
 and abandoned ? 
 
 1 1 . Is there not a singular mark of shame 
 set upon this man, who has so little delicacy 
 and feeling as to submit to the opprobrium of 
 marrying a near relation of one who had de- 
 bauched his wife ? In the name of decency, 
 how are these amiable cousins to meet at their 
 uncle's table ? It will be a scene in CEdipus, 
 without the distress. Is it wealth, or wit, or 
 beauty, or is the amorous youth in love? 
 
 The rest is notorious. That Corsica has 
 been sacrificed to the French; that in some 
 instances the laws have been scandalously 
 relaxed, and in others daringly violated ; and 
 that the king's subjects have been called upon 
 to assure him of their fidelity, in spite of the 
 measures of his servants.
 
 101 
 
 A writer, who builds his arguments upon 
 facts such as these, is not easily to be con- 
 futed. He is not to be answered by general 
 assertions, or general reproaches. He may 
 want eloquence to amuse and persuade, but, 
 speaking truth, he must always convince. 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 102 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 22 June, 1769. 
 
 THE name of Old Noll is destined 
 to be the ruin of the house of Stuart. There 
 is an ominous fatality in it, which even the 
 spurious descendants of the family cannot 
 escape. Oliver Cromwell had the merit of 
 conducting Charles the First to the block. 
 Your correspondent, Old Noll, appears to 
 have the same design upon the duke of Graf- 
 ton. His arguments consist better with the 
 title he has assumed than with the principles 
 he professes; for, though he pretends to be 
 an advocate for the duke, he takes care to 
 give us the best reason why his patron should 
 regularly follow the fate of his presumptive
 
 103 
 
 ancestor. Through the whole course of the 
 duke of Grafton's life I see a strange endea- 
 vour to unite contradictions which cannot be 
 reconciled. He marries to be divorced; he 
 keeps a mistress to remind him of conjugal 
 endearments, and he chooses such friends as 
 it is virtue in him to desert. If it were pos- 
 sible for the genius of that accomplished 
 president, who pronounced sentence upon 
 Charles the First, to be revived in some mo- 
 dern sycophant, his grace, I doubt not, would 
 by sympathy discover him among the dregs 
 of mankind, and take him for a guide in 
 those paths which naturally conduct the mi- 
 nister to the scaffold. 
 
 The assertion that two thirds of the nation 
 approve of the acceptance of Mr. Luttrell 
 (for even Old Noll is too modest to call it 
 an election) can neither be maintained nor 
 confuted by argument. It is a point of fact 
 on which every English gentleman will de- 
 termine for himself. As to lawyers, their 
 profession is supported by the indiscriminate 
 defence of right and wrong ; and I confess I
 
 104 
 
 have not that opinion of their knowledge or 
 integrity to think it necessary that they 
 should decide for me upon a plain consti- 
 tutional question. With respect to the ap- 
 pointment of Mr. Luttrell, the chancellor 
 has never yet given any authentic opinion. 
 Sir Fletcher Norton is indeed an honest, a 
 very honest man ; and the attorney general is 
 ex officio the guardian of liberty, to take 
 care, I presume, that it shall never break out 
 into a criminal excess. Doctor Blackstone 
 is solicitor to the queen. The doctor recol- 
 lected that he had a place to preserve, though 
 he forgot that he had a reputation to lose. 
 We have now the good fortune to under- 
 stand the doctor's principles as well as writ- 
 ings. For the defence of truth, of law, and 
 reason, the doctor's book may be safely con- 
 sulted ; but whoever wishes to cheat a neigh- 
 bour of his estate, or to rob a country of its 
 rights, need make no scruple of consulting 
 the doctor himself. 
 
 The example of the English nobility may, 
 for aught I know, sufficiently justify the
 
 105 
 
 duke of Grafton when he indulges his genius 
 in all the fashionable excesses of the age; 
 yet, considering his rank and station, I think 
 it would do him more honour to be able to 
 deny the fact than to defend it by such au- 
 thority. But if vice itself could be excused, 
 there is yet a certain display of it, a certain 
 outrage to decency, and violation of public 
 decorum, which, for the benefit of society, 
 should never be forgiven. It is not that he 
 kept a mistress at home, but that he con- 
 stantly attended her abroad. It is not the 
 private indulgence, but the public insult, of 
 which I complain. The name of Miss Par- 
 sons would hardly have been known if the 
 first lord of the treasury had not led her 
 in triumph through the opera house, even 
 in the presence of the queen. When we 
 see a man act in this manner we may ad- 
 mit the shameless depravity of his heart, 
 but what are we to think of his understand- 
 ing? 
 
 i 
 
 His grace, it seems, is now to be a regu- 
 lar domestic man; and, as an omen of the
 
 106 
 
 future delicacy and correctness of his con- 
 duct, he marries a first cousin of the man 
 who had fixed that mark and title of infamy 
 upon him which, at the same moment, makes 
 a husband unhappy and ridiculous. The 
 ties of consanguinity may possibly preserve 
 him from the same fate a second time; and, 
 as to the distress of meeting, I take for granted 
 the venerable uncle of these common cousins 
 has settled the etiquette in such a manner 
 that, if a mistake should happen, it may reach 
 no farther than from ' Madame ma femme' 
 to f Madame ma cousine.' 
 
 The duke of Grafton has always some 
 excellent reason for deserting his friends. 
 The age and incapacity of lord Chatham; 
 the debility of lord Rockingham; or the 
 infamy of Mr. Wilkes. There was a time 
 indeed when he did not appear to be quite 
 so well acquainted, or so violently offended, 
 with the infirmities of his friends. But now 
 I confess they are not ill exchanged for the 
 youthful, vigorous virtue of the duke of Bed- 
 ford; the firmness of general Conway; the
 
 lo; 
 
 blunt, or if I may call it, the awkward inte- 
 grity of Mr. Rigby; and the spotless mora- 
 lity of lord Sandwich. 
 
 If a late pension to a broken P gambler 
 be an act worthy of commendation, the 
 duke of Grafton's connexions will furnish 
 him with many opportunities of doing praise- 
 worthy actions ; and as he himself bears no 
 part of the expence, the generosity of dis- 
 tributing the public money for the support 
 of virtuous families in distress, will be an 
 unquestionable proof of his grace's huma- 
 nity. 
 
 As to public affairs, Old Noll is a little 
 tender of descending to particulars. He does 
 not deny that Corsica has been sacrificed to 
 France, and he confesses that, with regard 
 to America, his patron's measures have been 
 subject to some variation ; but then he pro- 
 mises wonders of stability and firmness for 
 the future. - These are mysteries of which 
 we must not pretend to judge by experience ; 
 and truly I fear we shall perish in the Desart
 
 108 
 
 before we arrive at the Land of Promise, 
 In the regular course of things, the period of 
 the duke of Grafton's ministerial manhood 
 should now be approaching. The imbecility 
 of his infant state was committed to lord 
 Chatham. Charles Townshend took some 
 care of his education at that ambiguous age 
 which lies between the follies of political 
 childhood and the vices of puberty. The 
 empire of the passions soon succeeded. His 
 earliest principles and connexions were of 
 course forgotten or despised. The com- 
 pany he has lately kept has been of no ser- 
 vice to his morals; and, in the conduct of 
 public affairs, we see the character of his 
 time of life strongly distinguished. An ob- 
 stinate ungovernable self-sufficiency plainly 
 points out to us that state of imperfect ma- 
 turity at which the graceful levity of youth 
 is lost, and the solidity of experience not yet 
 acquired. It is possible the young man may 
 in time grow wiser, and reform ; but, if I 
 understand his disposition, it is not of such 
 corrigible stuff that we should hope for any 
 amendment in him before he has accom-
 
 log 
 
 plished the destruction of his country. Like 
 other rakes, he may perhaps live to see 
 his error, but not until he has ruined his 
 estate. 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 no 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 MY LORD, 8 July, 1769. 
 
 IF nature had given you an 
 understanding qualified to keep pace with 
 the wishes and principles of your heart, she 
 would have made you, perhaps, the most 
 formidable minister that ever was employed, 
 under a limited monarch, to accomplish the 
 ruin of a free people. When neither the 
 feelings of shame, the reproaches of con- 
 science, nor the dread of punishment, form 
 any bar to the designs of a minister, the peo- 
 ple would have too much reason to lament 
 their condition, if they did not find some re- 
 source in the weakness of his understanding. 
 We owe it to the bounty of Providence, that 
 the completest depravity of the heart is some-
 
 Ill 
 
 times strangely united with a confusion of 
 the mind, which counteracts the most fa- 
 vourite principles, and makes the same man 
 treacherous without art, and a hypocrite 
 without deceiving. The measures, for in- 
 stance, in which your grace's activity has 
 been chiefly exerted, as they were adopted 
 without skill, should have been conducted 
 with more than common dexterity. But 
 truly, my lord, the execution has been as 
 gross as the design. By one decisive step 
 you have defeated all the arts of writing. 
 You have fairly confounded the intrigues of 
 opposition, and silenced the clamours of fac- 
 tion. A dark, ambiguous system might re- 
 quire and furnish the materials of ingenious 
 illustration; and, in doubtful measures, the 
 virulent exaggeration of party must be em- 
 ployed to rouse and engage the passions of 
 the people. You have now brought the me- 
 rits of your administration to an issue, on 
 which every Englishman, of the narrowest 
 capacity, may determine for himself. It is 
 not an alarm to the passions, but a calm ap- 
 peal to the judgment of the people, upon
 
 112 
 
 their own most essential interests. A more 
 experienced minister would not have hazard- 
 ed a direct invasion of the first principles of 
 the constitution, before he had made some 
 progress in subduing the spirit of the people. 
 With such a cause as yours, my lord, it is not 
 sufficient that you have the court at your de- 
 votion, unless you can find means to corrupt 
 or intimidate the jury. The collective body 
 of the people form that jury, and from their 
 decision there is but one appeal. 
 
 Whether you have talents to support you, 
 at a crisis of such difficulty and danger, 
 should long since have been considered. 
 Judging truly of your disposition, you have 
 perhaps mistaken the extent of your capacity. 
 Good faith and folly have so long been re- 
 ceived as synonymous terms, that the reverse 
 of the proposition has grown into credit, and 
 every villain fancies himself a man of abili- 
 ties. It is the apprehension of your friends, 
 my lord, that you have drawn some hasty con- 
 clusion of this sort, and that a partial reliance 
 upon your moral character has betrayed you
 
 113 
 
 beyond the depth of your understanding. 
 You have now carried things too far to re- 
 treat. You have plainly declared to the peo- 
 ple what they are to expect from the con- 
 tinuance of your administration. It is time 
 for your grace to consider what you also may 
 expect in return from their spirit and their 
 resentment. 
 
 Since the accession of our most gracious 
 sovereign to the throne, we have seen a sys- 
 tem of government which may well be called 
 a reign of experiments. Parties of all deno- 
 minations have been employed and dismissed. 
 The advice of the ablest men in this country 
 has been repeatedly called for and rejected; 
 and when the royal displeasure has been sig- 
 nified to a minister, the marks of it have 
 usually been proportioned to his abilities and 
 integrity. The spirit of the favourite had 
 some apparent influence upon every adminis- 
 tration; and every set of ministers preserved 
 an appearance of duration as long as they 
 submitted to that influence. But there were 
 
 certain services to be formed for the fa- 
 I I
 
 114 
 
 vourite's security, or to gratify his resentments, 
 which your predecessors in office had the wis- 
 dom or the virtue not to undertake. The 
 moment this refractory spirit was discovered, 
 their disgrace was determined. Lord Chat- 
 ham, Mr. Grenville, and lord Rockingham, 
 have successively had the honour to be dis- 
 missed for preferring their duty, as servants 
 of the public, to those compliances which 
 were expected from their station. A sub- 
 missive administration was at last gradually 
 collected from the deserters of all parties, in- 
 terests, and connexions ; and nothing remain- 
 ed but to find a leader for these gallant well- 
 disciplined troops. Stand forth, my lord, for 
 thou art the man. Lord Bute found no re- 
 source of dependence or security in the proud, 
 imposing superiority of lord Chatham's abili- 
 ties, the shrewd inflexible judgment of Mr. 
 Grenville, nor in the mild but determined 
 integrity of lord Rockingham. His views 
 and situation required a creature void of all 
 these properties; and he was forced to go 
 through every division, resolution, compo- 
 sition, and refinement of political chemistry,
 
 115 
 
 before he happily arrived at the caput mor- 
 tuum of vitriol in your grace. Flat and in- 
 sipid in your retired state, but brought into 
 action, you become vitriol again. Such are 
 the extremes of alternate indolence or fury, 
 which have governed your whole adminis- 
 tration. Your circumstances with regard to 
 the people soon becoming desperate, like 
 other honest servants, you determined to in- 
 volve the best of masters in the same difficul- 
 ties with yourself. We owe it to your grace's 
 well-directed labours, that your sovereign has 
 been persuaded to doubt of the affections of 
 his subjects, and the people to suspect the 
 virtues of their sovereign, at a time when 
 both were unquestionable. You have de- 
 graded the royal dignity into a base, disho- 
 nourable competition with Mr. Wilkes ; nor 
 had you abilities to carry even the last con- 
 temptible triumph over a private man, with- 
 out the grossest violation of the fundamental 
 laws of the constitution and rights of the 
 people. But these are rights, my lord, which 
 you can no more annihilate than you can the 
 soil to which they are annexed. The ques-
 
 116 
 
 tion no longer turns upon points of national 
 honour and security abroad, or on the de- 
 grees of expedience and propriety of mea- 
 sures at home. It was not inconsistent that 
 you should abandon the cause of liberty in 
 another country, which you had persecuted 
 in your own ; and in the common arts of do- 
 mestic corruption, we miss no part of sir 
 Robert Walpole's system except his abilities. 
 In this humble imitative line, you might 
 long have proceeded, safe and contemptible. 
 You might probably never have risen to the 
 dignity of being hated, and even have been 
 despised with moderation. But it seems you 
 meant to be distinguished, and, to a mind 
 like yours, there was no other road to fame 
 but by the destruction of a noble fabric, 
 which you thought had been too long the 
 admiration of mankind. The use you have 
 made of the military force introduced an 
 alarming change in the mode of executing 
 the laws. The arbitrary appointment of Mr. 
 Luttrell invades the foundation of the laws 
 themselves, as it manifestly transfers the right 
 of legislation from those whom the people
 
 117 
 
 have chosen, to those whom they have re- 
 jected. With a succession of such appoint- 
 ments, we may soon see a house of commons 
 collected, in the choice of which the other 
 towns and counties of England will have as 
 little share as the devoted county of Mid- 
 dlesex. 
 
 Yet I trust your grace will find that the 
 people of this country are neither to be in- 
 timidated by violent measures, nor deceived 
 by refinements. When they see Mr. Luttrell 
 seated in the house of commons by mere 
 dint of power, and in direct opposition to 
 the choice of a whole county, they will not 
 listen to those subtleties by which every ar- 
 bitrary exertion of authority is explained into 
 the law and privilege of parliament. It re- 
 quires no persuasion of argument, but simply 
 the evidence of the senses, to convince them, 
 that to transfer the right of election from the 
 collective to the representative body of the 
 people, contradicts all those ideas of a house 
 of commons which they have received from 
 their forefathers, and which they had already,
 
 118 
 
 though vainly perhaps, delivered to their 
 children. The principles on which this vio- 
 lent measure has been defended, have added 
 scorn to injury, and forced us to feel, that we 
 are not only oppressed but insulted. 
 
 With what force, my lord, with what 
 protection are you prepared to meet the 
 united detestation of the people of England ? 
 The city of London has given a generous 
 example to the kingdom in what manner a 
 king of this countiy ought to be addressed; 
 and, I fancy my lord, it is not yet in your 
 courage to stand between your sovereign and 
 the addresses of his subjects. The injuries 
 you have done this country are such as de- 
 mand not only redress, but vengeance. In 
 vain shall you look for protection to that 
 venal vote which you have already paid for 
 another must be purchased; and, to save a 
 minister, the house of commons must de- 
 clare themselves not only independent of 
 their constituents, but the determined ene- 
 mies of the constitution. Consider, my lord, 
 whether this be an extremity to which their
 
 " fears will permit them to advance; or, if 
 their protection should fail you, how far you 
 are authorised to rely upon the sincerity of 
 those smiles which a pious court lavishes 
 without reluctance upon a libertine by pro- 
 fession. It is not indeed the least of the 
 thousand contradictions which attend you, 
 that a man, marked to the world by the 
 grossest violation of all ceremony and de- 
 corum, should be the first servant of a court 
 in which prayers are morality, and kneeling 
 is religion. Trust not too far to appearances, 
 by which your predecessors have been de- 
 ceived, though they have not been injured. 
 Even the best of princes may at last discover, 
 that this is a contention in which every thing 
 may be lost, but nothing can be gained ; and 
 as you became minister by accident, were 
 adopted without choice, trusted without con- 
 fidence, and continued without favour, be 
 assured that, whenever an occasion presses, 
 you will be discarded without even the forms 
 of regret. You will then have reason to be 
 thankful if you are permitted to retire to that 
 seat of learning which, in contemplation of
 
 120 
 
 the system of your life, the comparative pu- 
 rity of your manners with those of their high 
 steward, and a thousand other recommending 
 circumstances, has chosen you to encourage 
 the growing virtue of their youth, and to 
 preside over their education. Whenever the 
 spirit of distributing prebends and bishopricks 
 shall have departed from you, you will find 
 that learned seminary perfectly recovered from 
 the delirium of an installation, and, what in 
 truth it ought to be, once more a peaceful 
 scene of slumber and thoughtless meditation. 
 The venerable tutors of the university will no 
 longer distress your modesty by proposing 
 you for a pattern to their pupils. The learn- 
 ed dulness of declamation will be silent ; and 
 even the venal muse, though happiest in fic- 
 tion, will forget your virtues. Yet, for the 
 benefit of the succeeding age, I could wish 
 that your retreat might be deferred until your 
 morals shall happily be ripened to that ma- 
 turity of corruption at which the worst ex- 
 amples cease to be contagious. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 121 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 19 July, 1769. 
 
 A GREAT deal of useless argument 
 might have been saved in the political contest 
 which has arisen from the expulsion of Mr. 
 Wilkes, and the subsequent appointment of 
 Mr. Luttrell, if the question had been once 
 stated with precision, to the satisfaction of 
 each party, and clearly understood by them 
 both. But in this, as in almost every other 
 dispute, it usually happens that much time 
 is lost in referring to a multitude of cases and 
 precedents which prove nothing to the pur- 
 pose, or in maintaining propositions which are 
 either not disputed, or, whether they be ad- 
 mitted or denied, are entirely indifferent as to 
 the matter in debate ; until at last the mind, 
 perplexed and confounded with the endless
 
 122 
 
 subtleties of controversy, loses sight of the 
 main question, and never arrives at truth. 
 Both parties in the dispute are apt enough to 
 practise these dishonest artifices. The man 
 who is conscious of the weakness of his cause, 
 is interested in concealing it; and, on the other 
 side, it is not uncommon to see a good cause 
 mangled by advocates who do not know the 
 real strength of it. 
 
 I should be glad to know, for instance, to 
 what purpose, in the present case, so many 
 precedents have been produced to prove that 
 the house of commons have a right to expel 
 one of their own members ; that it belongs 
 to them to judge of the validity of elections ; 
 or that the law of parliament is part of the 
 law of the land ? After all these propositions 
 are admitted, Mr. LuttrelFs right to his seat 
 will continue to be just as disputable as it 
 was before. Not one of them is at present in 
 agitation. Let it be admitted that the house 
 of commons were authorised to expel Mr. 
 Wilkes; that they are the proper court to 
 judge of elections; and that the law of par-
 
 123 
 
 liament is binding upon the people; still it 
 remains to be inquired whether the house, 
 by their resolution in favour of Mr. Luttrell, 
 have or have not truly declared that law. To 
 facilitate this inquiry, I would have the ques- 
 tion cleared of all foreign or indifferent mat- 
 ter. The following state of it will probably 
 be thought a fair one by both parties; and 
 then I imagine there is no gentleman in this 
 country, who will not be capable of forming 
 a judicious and true opinion upon it. I take 
 the question to be strictly this : ' Whether or 
 
 * no it be the known, established law of par- 
 1 liament, that the expulsion of a member of 
 
 * the house of commons of itself creates in 
 1 him such an incapacity to be re-elected, that, 
 ' at a subsequent election, any votes given to 
 ' him are null and void, and that any other 
 ' candidate, who, except the person expelled, 
 4 has the greatest number of votes, ought to 
 ' be the sitting member.' 
 
 To prove that the affirmative is the law 
 of parliament, I apprehend it is not sufficient 
 for the present house of commons to declare
 
 124 
 
 it to be so. We may shut our eyes indeed to 
 the dangerous consequences of suffering one 
 branch of the legislature to declare new laws, 
 without argument or example, and it may 
 perhaps be prudent enough to submit to au- 
 thority; but a mere assertion will never con- 
 vince, much less will it be thought reasonable 
 to prove the right by the fact itself. The mi- 
 nistry have not yet pretended to such a ty- 
 ranny over our minds. To support the af- 
 firmative fairly, it will either be necessary to 
 produce some statute in which that positive 
 provision shall have been made, that speci- 
 fic disability clearly created, and the conse- 
 quences of it declared; or, if there be no 
 such statute, the custom of parliament must 
 then be referred to, and some case or 1 cases, 
 strictly in point, must be produced, with the 
 decision of the court upon them ; for I readily 
 admit that the custom of parliament, once 
 clearly proved, is equally binding with the 
 common and statute law. 
 
 The consideration of what may be rea- 
 sonable or unreasonable makes no part of this
 
 125 
 
 question. We are inquiring what the law is, 
 not what it ought to be. Reason may be ap- 
 plied to shew the impropriety or expedience 
 of a law, but we must have either statute or 
 precedent to prove the existence of it. At 
 the same time I do not mean to admit that 
 the late resolution of the house of commons 
 is defensible on general principles of reason, 
 any more than in law. This is not the hinge 
 on which the debate turns. 
 
 Supposing, therefore, that I have laid 
 down an accurate state of the question, I 
 will venture to affirm, 1st, That there is no 
 statute existing by which that specific disabi- 
 lity which we speak of is created. If there 
 be, let it be produced. The argument will 
 then be at an end. 
 
 2dly, That there is no precedent in all 
 the proceedings of the house of commons 
 which comes entirely home to the present 
 case, viz. ' where an expelled member has 
 
 * been returned again, and another candi- 
 
 * date, with an inferior number of votes, has
 
 126 
 
 ' been declared the sitting member.' If there 
 be such a precedent, let it be given to us 
 plainly, and I am sure it will have more 
 weight than all the cunning arguments which 
 have been drawn from inferences and proba- 
 bilities. 
 
 The ministry, in that laborious pamphlet 
 which I presume contains the whole strength 
 of the party, have declared/ < That Mr.Wal- 
 f pole's was the first and only instance, in 
 1 which the electors of any county or borough 
 e had returned a person expelled to serve in 
 ' the same parliament.' It is not possible to 
 conceive a case more exactly in point. Mr. 
 Walpole was expelled, and, having a ma- 
 jority of votes at the next election, was re- 
 turned again. The friends of Mr. Taylor, 
 a candidate set up by the ministry, petitioned 
 the house that he might be the sitting mem- 
 ber. Thus far the circumstances tally exactly, 
 except that our house of commons saved 
 Mr. Luttrell the trouble of petitioning. The 
 point of law however was the same. It came 
 regularly before the house, and it was their
 
 127 
 
 business to determine upon it. They did de- 
 termine it, for they declared Mr. Taylor not 
 duly elected. If it be said that they meant 
 this resolution as matter of favour and in- 
 dulgence to the borough which had retorted 
 Mr.Walpole upon them, in order that the 
 burgesses, knowing what the law was, might 
 correct their error ; I answer, 
 
 I. That it is a strange way of arguing to 
 oppose a supposition, which no man can 
 prove, to a fact which proves itself. 
 
 II. That if this were the intention of the 
 house of commons, it must have defeated 
 itself. The burgesses of Lynn could never 
 have known their error, much less could they 
 have corrected it by any instruction they re- 
 ceived from the proceedings of the house of 
 commons. They might perhaps have fore- 
 seen, that, if they returned Mr.Walpole again, 
 he would again be rejected; but they never 
 could infer, from a resolution by which the 
 candidate with the fewest votes was declared 
 not duly elected, that, at a future election,
 
 128 
 
 and in similar circumstances, the house of 
 commons would reverse their resolution, and 
 receive the same candidate as duly elected, 
 whom they had before rejected. 
 
 This indeed would have been a most ex- 
 traordinary way of declaring the law of par- 
 liament, and what I presume no man, whose 
 understanding is not at cross-purposes with 
 itself, could possibly understand. 
 
 If, in a case of this importance, I thought 
 myself at liberty to argue from suppositions 
 rather than from facts, I think the probabi- 
 lity, in this instance, is directly the reverse 
 of what the ministry affirm ; and that it is 
 much more likely that the house of com- 
 mons at that time would rather have strained 
 a point in favour of Mr. Taylor, than that 
 they would have violated the law of parlia- 
 ment, and robbed Mr. Taylor of a right le- 
 gally vested in him, to gratify a refractory 
 borough, which, in defiance of them, had 
 returned a person branded with the strongest 
 mark of the displeasure of the house.
 
 129 
 
 But really, sir, this way of talking, for I 
 cannot call it argument, is a mockery of the 
 common understanding of the nation, too 
 gross to be endured. Our dearest interests 
 are at stake. An attempt has been made, not 
 merely to rob a single county of its rights, 
 but, by inevitable consequence, to alter the 
 constitution of the house of commons. This 
 fatal attempt has succeeded, and stands as a 
 precedent recorded for ever. If the ministry 
 are unable to defend their cause by fair ar- 
 gument founded on facts, let them spare us 
 at least the mortification of being amused 
 and deluded like children. I believe there 
 is yet a spirit of resistance in this country, 
 which will not submit to be oppressed; but 
 I am sure there is a fund of good sense in 
 this country, which cannot be deceived. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 130 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 1 August, 1769. 
 
 IT will not be necessary for Junius 
 to take the trouble of answering your cor- 
 respondent G. A. or the quotation from a 
 speech without doors published in your pa- 
 per of the 28th of last month. The speech 
 appeared before Junius's letters, and as the 
 author seems to consider the great propo- 
 sition, on which all his argument depends, 
 viz. that Mr. Wilkes was under that known 
 legal incapacity, of which Junius speaks as a 
 point granted, his speech is, in no shape, an 
 answer to Junius, for this is the very question 
 in debate. 
 
 As to G. A. I observe first, that if he
 
 131 
 
 did not admit Jimius's state of the question, 
 he should have shewn the fallacy of it, or 
 given us a more exact one; secondly, that, 
 considering the many hours and days which 
 the ministry and their advocates have wasted 
 in public debate, in compiling large quartos, 
 and collecting innumerable precedents, ex- 
 pressly to prove that the late proceedings of 
 the house of commons are warranted by the 
 law, custom, and practice of parliament, it 
 is rather an extraordinary supposition, to be 
 made by one of their own party even for the 
 sake of argument, that no such statute, no 
 such custom of parliament, no such case in 
 point, can be produced. G. A. may however 
 make the supposition with safety. It contains 
 nothing, but literally the fact, except that 
 there is a case exactly in point, with a de- 
 cision of the house, diametrically opposite to 
 that which the present house of commons 
 came to in favour of Mr. Luttrell. 
 
 The ministry now begin to be ashamed 
 of the weakness of their cause, and, as it 
 usually happens with falsehood, are driven
 
 132 
 
 to the necessity of shifting their ground, and 
 changing their whole defence. At first we 
 were told that nothing could be clearer than 
 that the proceedings of the house of com- 
 mons were justified by the known law and 
 uniform custom of parliament. But now it 
 seems, if there be no law, the house of 
 commons have a right to make one, and 
 if there be no precedent, they have a right 
 to create the first; for this I presume is the 
 amount of the questions proposed to Junius. 
 If your correspondent had been at all versed 
 in the law of parliament, or generally in the 
 laws of this country, he would have seen 
 that this defence is as weak and false as the 
 former. 
 
 The privileges of either house of parlia 
 ment, it is true, are indefinite, that is, they 
 have not been described or laid down in any 
 one code or declaration whatsoever; but 
 whenever a question of privilege has arisen, 
 it has invariably been disputed or maintained 
 upon the footing of precedents alone. 5 In the 
 course of the proceedings upon the Aylesbury
 
 133 
 
 election, the house of lords resolved, ' That 
 ( neither house of parliament had any power, 
 1 by any vote or declaration, to create to 
 ' themselves any new privilege that was not 
 ( warranted by the known laws and customs of 
 ' parliament.' And to this rule the house of 
 commons, though otherwise they had acted 
 in a very arbitrary manner, gave their assent, 
 for they affirmed that they had guided them- 
 selves by it, in asserting their privileges. 
 Now, sir, if this be true with respect to mat- 
 ters of privilege, in which the house of com- 
 mons, individually and as a body, arc prin- 
 cipally concerned, how much more strongly 
 will it hold against any pretended power in 
 that house to create or declare a new law, by 
 which not only the rights of the house over 
 their own member, and those of the member 
 himself, are included, but also those of a 
 third and separate party, I mean the free- 
 holders of the kingdom. To do justice to the 
 ministry, they have not yet pretended that 
 any one or any two of the three estates have 
 power to make a new law, without the con- 
 currence of the third. They know that a
 
 134 
 
 man who maintains such a doctrine, is liable, 
 by statute, to the heaviest penalties. They 
 do not acknowledge that the house of com- 
 mons have assumed a new privilege, or de- 
 clared a new law. On the contrary, they af- 
 firm that their proceedings have been strictly 
 conformable to and founded upon the ancient 
 law and custom' of parliament. Thus there- 
 fore the question returns to the point, at which 
 Junius had fixed it, viz. Whether or no this 
 be the law of parliament. If it be not, the 
 house of commons had no legal authority to 
 establish the precedent; and the precedent 
 itself is a mere fact, without any proof of 
 right whatsoever. 
 
 Your correspondent concludes with a 
 question of the simplest nature : Must a thing 
 be wrong, because it has never been done 
 before ? No. But admitting it were proper 
 to be done, that alone does not convey an 
 authority to do it. As to the present case, I 
 hope I shall never see the time when not only 
 a single person, but a whole county, and in 
 effect the entire collective body of the people,
 
 135 
 
 may again be robbed of their birthright by a 
 vote of the house of commons. But if, for 
 reasons which I am unabled to comprehend, 
 it be necessary to trust that house with a 
 power so exorbitant and so unconstitutional, 
 at least let it be given to them by an act of 
 the legislature. 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 13(5 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE, SOLICITOR 
 GENERAL TO HER MAJESTY. 
 
 SIR, 29 July, 1/69. 
 
 I SHALL make you no apology 
 for considering a certain pamphlet, in which 
 your late conduct is defended, as written by 
 yourself. The personal interest, the personal 
 resentments, and, above all, that wounded 
 spirit, unaccustomed to reproach, and I hope 
 not frequently conscious of deserving it, are 
 signals which betray the author to us as plainly 
 as if your name were in the title-page. You 
 appeal to the public in defence of your repu- 
 tation. We hold it, sir, that an injury offered 
 to an individual is interesting to society. On 
 this principle the people of England made 
 common cause with Mr. Wilkes. On this
 
 JUDGE BLACKSTONE
 
 13/ 
 
 principle, if you are injured, they will join 
 in your resentment. I shall not follow you 
 through the insipid form of a third person, 
 but address myself to you directly. 
 
 You seem to think the channel of a pam- 
 phlet more respectable and better suited to 
 the dignity of your cause, than that of a news- 
 paper. Be it so. Yet if newspapers are scur- 
 rilous, you must confess they are impartial. 
 They give us, without any apparent prefer- 
 ence, the wit and argument of the ministry, 
 as well as the abusive dulness of the opposi- 
 tion. The scales are equally poised. It is 
 not the printer's fault if the greater weight 
 inclines the balance. 
 
 Your pamphlet then is divided into an 
 attack upon Mr. Grenville's character, and 
 a defence of your own. It would have been 
 more consistent perhaps with your professed 
 intention, to have confined yourself to the 
 last. But anger has some claim to indul- 
 gence, and railing is usually a relief to the 
 mind. I hope you have found benefit from
 
 138 
 
 the experiment. It is not my design to enter 
 into a formal vindication of Mr. Grenville, 
 upon his own principles. I have neither the 
 honour of being personally known to him, 
 nor do I pretend to be completely master of 
 all the facts. I need not run the risk of do- 
 ing an injustice to his opinions,, or to his 
 conduct, when your pamphlet alone carries 
 upon the face of it a full vindication of both. 
 
 Your first reflection is, that Mr. Gren- 
 ville ' was, of all men, the person who should 
 not have complained of inconsistence with 
 regard to Mr.Wilkes. This, sir, is either an 
 unmeaning sneer, a peevish expression of re- 
 sentment, or, if it means any thing, you 
 plainly beg the question; for whether his 
 parliamentary conduct with regard to Mr. 
 Wilkes has or has not been inconsistent, re- 
 mains yet to be proved. But it seems he re- 
 ceived upon the spot a sufficient chastisement 
 for exercising so unfairly his talents of mis- 
 representation. You are a lawyer, sir, and 
 know better than I do upon what particular 
 occasions a talent for misrepresentation may
 
 RIGHT HON* JAMES GRENVILLE
 
 139 
 
 be fairly exerted ; but to punish a man a se- 
 cond time, when he has been once sufficiently 
 chastised, is rather too severe. It is not in 
 the laws of England; it is not in your own 
 commentaries ; nor is it yet, I believe, in the 
 new law you have revealed to the house of 
 commons. I hope this doctrine has no ex- 
 istence but in your own heart. After all, sir, 
 if you had consulted that sober discretion 
 which you seem to oppose with triumph to 
 the honest jollity of a tavern, it might have 
 occurred to you, that although you could 
 have succeeded in fixing a charge of incon- 
 sistence upon Mr. Grenvillc, it would not ha\ e 
 tended in any shape to exculpate yourself. 
 
 Your next insinuation, that sir William 
 Meredith had hastily adopted the false glosses 
 of his new ally, is of the same sort with the 
 first. It conveys a sneer as little worthy of 
 the gravity of your character, as it is useless 
 to your defence. It is of little moment to the 
 public to inquire, by whom the charge was 
 conceived, or by whom it was adopted. The 
 only question we ask is, whether or no it be
 
 140 
 
 true. The remainder of your reflections upon 
 Mr. Grenville's conduct destroy themselves. 
 He could not possibly come prepared to tra- 
 duce your integrity to the house. He could 
 not foresee that you would even speak upon 
 the question, much less could he foresee that 
 you would maintain a direct contradiction of 
 that doctrine which you had solemnly, disin- 
 terestedly, and, upon soberest reflection, de- 
 livered to the public. He came armed in- 
 deed with what he thought a respectable 
 authority, to support what he was convinced 
 was the cause of truth, and I doubt not he 
 intended to give you in the course of the 
 debate an honourable and public testimony 
 of his esteem. Thinking highly of his abi- 
 lities, I cannot however allow him the gift 
 of divination. As to what you are pleased to 
 call a plan coolly formed to impose upon the 
 house of commons, and his producing it 
 without provocation at midnight, I consider 
 it as the language of pique and invective, 
 therefore unworthy of regard. But, sir, I 
 am sensible I have followed your example too 
 long, and wandered from the point.
 
 141 
 
 The quotation from your commentaries is 
 matter of record. It can neither be altered 
 by your friends, nor misrepresented by your 
 enemies; and I am willing to take your own 
 word for what you have said in the house of 
 commons. If there be a real difference be- 
 tween what you have written and what you 
 have spoken, you confess that your book 
 ought to be the standard. Now, sir, if words 
 mean any thing, I apprehend that, when a 
 long enumeration of disqualifications (whe- 
 ther by statute or the custom of parliament) 
 concludes with these general comprehensive 
 words, ' but subject to these restrictions and 
 * disqualifications, every subject of the realm 
 ' is eligible of common right,' a reader of 
 plain understanding, must of course rest sa- 
 tisfied that no species of disqualification 
 whatsoever had been omitted. The known 
 character of the author, and the apparent 
 accuracy with which the whole work is com- 
 piled, would confirm him in his opinion; 
 nor could he possibly form any other judg- 
 ment, without looking upon your commen- 
 taries in the same light in which you con-
 
 142 
 
 sider those penal laws which, though not re- 
 pealed, are fallen into disuse, and are now 
 in effect a snare to the unwary." 
 
 You tell us indeed that it was not part of 
 your plan to specify any temporary inca- 
 pacity, and that you could not, without a 
 spirit of prophecy, have specified the disa- 
 bility of a private individual subsequent to 
 the period at which you wrote. What your 
 plan was I know not: but what it should 
 have been, in order to complete the work 
 you have given us, is by no means difficult 
 to determine. The incapacity which you call 
 temporary, may continue seven years; and, 
 though you might not have foreseen the par- 
 ticular case of Mr. Wilkes, you might and 
 should have foreseen the possibility of such a 
 case, and told us how far the house of com- 
 mons were authorised to proceed in it by the 
 law and custom of parliament. The free- 
 holders of Middlesex would then have known 
 what they had to trust to, and would never 
 have returned Mr. Wilkes when colonel Lut- 
 trell was a candidate against him. They 
 would have chosen some indifferent person,
 
 143 
 
 rather than submit to be represented by the 
 object of their contempt and detestation. 
 
 Your attempt to distinguish between dis- 
 abilities which affect whole classes of men, 
 and those which affect individuals only, is 
 really unworthy of your understanding. Your 
 commentaries had taught me that, although 
 the instance, in which a penal law is exerted, 
 be particular, the laws themselves are ge- 
 neral. They are made for the benefit and 
 instruction of the public, though the penalty 
 falls only upon an individual. You cannot 
 but know, sir, that what was Mr. Wilkes's 
 case yesterday may be yours or mine to-mor- 
 row, and that consequently the common 
 right of every subject of the realm is invaded 
 by it. Professing therefore to treat of the 
 constitution of the house of commons, and 
 of the laws and customs relative to that con- 
 stitution, you certainly were guilty of a most 
 unpardonable omission, in taking no notice 
 of a right and privilege of the house, more 
 extraordinary and more arbitrary than all the 
 others they possess put together. If the ex-
 
 144 
 
 pulsion of a member, not under any legal 
 disability, of itself creates in him an inca- 
 pacity to be elected, I see a ready way marked 
 out, by which the majority may at any time 
 remove the honestest and ablest men who 
 happen to be in opposition to them. To say 
 that they will not make this extravagant use 
 of their power, would be a language unfit 
 for a man so learned in the laws as you are k 
 By your doctrine, sir, they have the power, 
 and laws you know are intended to guard 
 against what men may do, not to trust to 
 what they will do. 
 
 Upon the whole, sir, the charge against 
 you is of a plain, simple nature: It appears 
 even upon the face of your own pamphlet. 
 On the contrary, your justification of your- 
 self is full of subtlety and refinement, and in 
 some places not very intelligible. If I were 
 personally your enemy, I should dwell, with 
 a malignant pleasure, upon those great and 
 useful qualifications which you certainly pos- 
 sess, and by which you once acquired, though 
 they could not preserve to you the respect and
 
 145 
 
 esteem of your country. I should enumerate 
 the honours you have lost, and the virtues 
 you have disgraced : but, having no private 
 resentments to gratify, I think it sufficient to 
 have given my opinion of your public con- 
 duct, leaving the punishment it deserves to 
 your closet and to yourself. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 146 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 14 August, 1769. 
 
 A CORRESPONDENT of the St. 
 
 James's Evening Post first wilfully misunder- 
 stands Junius, then censures him for a bad 
 reasoner. Junius does not say that it was 
 incumbent upon doctor Blackstone to foresee, 
 and state the crimes, for which Mr.Wilkes 
 was expelled. If, by a spirit of prophecy, he 
 had even done so, it would have been no- 
 thing to the purpose. The question is, not 
 for what particular offences a person may be 
 expelled, but generally whether by the law 
 of parliament expulsion alone creates a dis- 
 qualification. If the affirmative be the law 
 of parliament, doctor Blackstone might and 
 should have told us so. The question is not
 
 147 
 
 confined to this or that particular person, 
 but forms one great general branch of dis- 
 qualification, too important in itself, and too 
 extensive in its consequences, to be omitted 
 in an accurate work expressly treating of the 
 law of parliament. 
 
 The truth of the matter is evidently this. 
 Doctor Blackstone, while he was speaking in 
 the house of commons, never once thought 
 of his commentaries until the contradiction 
 was unexpectedly urged, and stared him in 
 the face. Instead of defending himself upon 
 the spot, he sunk under the charge, in an 
 agony of confusion and despair. It is well 
 known that there was a pause of some mi- 
 nutes in the house, from a general expecta- 
 tion that the doctor would say something in 
 his own defence; but it seems his faculties 
 were too much overpowered to think of those 
 subtleties and refinements which have since 
 occurred to him. It was then Mr. Grenville 
 received that severe chastisement which the 
 doctor mentions with so much triumph. I 
 wish the honourable gentleman, instead of
 
 148 
 
 shaking his head, would shake a good argu- 
 ment out of it. If to the elegance, novelty, 
 and bitterness of this ingenious sarcasm, we 
 add the natural melody of the amiable sir 
 Fletcher Norton's pipe, we shall not be sur- 
 prised that Mr. Grenville was unable to make 
 him any reply. 
 
 As to the doctor, I would recommend it 
 to him to be quiet. If not, he may perhaps 
 hear again from Junius himself. 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 14Q 
 
 POSTSCRIPT to a pamphlet entitled, < An 
 answer to the question stated.' Supposed 
 to be written by Dr. Blackstone, solicitor 
 to the queen, in answer to Junius's letter. 
 
 SINCE these papers were sent to 
 the press, a writer in the public papers, who 
 subscribes himself Junius, has made a feint 
 of bringing this question to a short issue. 
 Though the foregoing observations contain, 
 in my opinion at least, a full refutation of 
 all that this writer has offered, I shall, how- 
 ever, bestow a very few words upon him. It 
 will cost me very little trouble to unravel and 
 expose the sophistry of his argument. 
 
 1 I take the question,' says he, ' to be 
 ' strictly this: Whether or no it be the 
 * known established law of parliament, that 
 ( the expulsion of a member of the house of 
 ' commons of itself creates in him such an 
 6 incapacity to be re-elected, that, at a sub- 
 ' sequent election, any votes given to him 
 f are null and void; and that any other can- 
 4 didate, who, except the person expelled.
 
 150 
 
 f has the greatest number of votes, ought to 
 ( be the sitting member.' 
 
 Waving for the present any objection I 
 may have to this state of the question, I shall 
 venture to meet our champion upon his own 
 ground, and attempt to support the affirma- 
 tive of it in one of the two ways by which he 
 says it can be alone fairly supported. ' If 
 
 * there be no statute/ says he, ( in which 
 ( the specific disability is clearly created, &c. 
 
 * (and we acknowledge there is none) the 
 ' custom of parliament must then be referred 
 ' to, and some case or cases, strictly in point, 
 ( must be produced, with the decision of the 
 ' court upon them.' Now I assert that this 
 has been done. Mr. Walpole's case is strictly 
 in point to prove that expulsion creates abso- 
 lute incapacity of being re-elected. This 
 was the clear decision of the house upon it; 
 and was a full declaration, that incapacity 
 was the necessary consequence of expulsion. 
 The law was as clearly and firmly fixed by 
 this resolution, and is as binding in every 
 subsequent case of expulsion, as if it had
 
 151 
 
 been declared by an express statute, ' That 
 i a member expelled by a resolution of the 
 * house of commons shall be deemed inca- 
 4 pable of being re-elected.' Whatever doubt 
 then there might have been of the law be- 
 fore Mr. Walpole's case, with respect to the 
 full operation of a vote of expulsion, there 
 can be none now. The decision of the house 
 upon this case is strictly in point to prove, 
 that expulsion creates absolute incapacity in 
 law of being re-elected. 
 
 But incapacity in law in this instance 
 must have the same operation and effect with 
 incapacity in law in every other instance. 
 Now incapacity of being re-elected implies 
 in its very terms, that any votes given to the 
 incapable person, at a subsequent election, 
 are null and void. This is its necessary ope- 
 ration, or it has no operation at all. It is vox 
 et praeterea nihil. We can no more be called 
 upon to prove this proposition, than we can 
 to prove that a dead man is not alive, or that 
 twice two are four. When the terms are un- 
 derstood, the proposition is self-evident.
 
 152 
 
 Lastly, It is in all cases of election the 
 known and established law of the land, 
 grounded upon the clearest principles of rea- 
 son and common sense, that if the votes given 
 to one candidate are null and void, they can- 
 not be opposed to the votes given to another 
 candidate. They cannot affect the votes of 
 -such candidate at all. As they have, on the 
 one hand, no positive quality to add or esta- 
 blish, so have they, on the other hand, no 
 negative one to subtract or destroy. They 
 are, in a word, a mere non-entity. Such 
 was the determination of the house of com- 
 mons in the Maiden and Bedford elections; 
 cases strictly in point to the present question, 
 as far as they are meant to be in point. And 
 to say, that they are not in point, in all cir- 
 cumstances, in those particularly which are 
 independent of the proposition which they 
 are quoted to prove, is to say no more than 
 that Maiden is not Middlesex, nor Serjeant 
 Comyns Mr. Wilkes. 
 
 Let us see then how our proof stands. 
 Expulsion creates incapacity; incapacity anni-
 
 153 
 
 hilates any votes given to the incapable person. 
 The votes given to the qualified candidate 
 stand upon their own bottom, firm, and un- 
 touched, and can alone have effect. This, 
 one would think, would be sufficient. But 
 we are stopped short, and told, that none of 
 our precedents come home to the present 
 case ; and are challenged to produce ( a pre- 
 ' cedent in all the proceedings of the house 
 ' of commons that does come home to it; 
 ( viz. where an expelled member has been 
 ' returned again, and another candidate, with 
 ' an inferior number of votes, has been de- 
 1 clared the sitting member.' 
 
 Instead of a precedent, I will beg leave to 
 put a case ; which, I fancy, will be quite as 
 decisive to the present point. Suppose an- 
 other Sacheverel (and every party must have 
 its Sacheverel) should, at some future elec- 
 tion, take it into his head to offer himself a 
 candidate for the county of Middlesex. He 
 is opposed by a candidate whose coat is of a 
 different colour, but, however, of a very good 
 colour. The divine has an indisputable ma-
 
 154 
 
 jority; nay, the poor laymen is absolutely 
 distanced. The sheriff, after having had his 
 conscience well informed by the reverend 
 casuist, returns him, as he supposes, duly 
 elected. The whole house is in an uproar at 
 the apprehension of so strange an appearance 
 amongst them. A motion, however, is at 
 length made, that the person was incapable 
 of being elected, that his election therefore 
 is null and void, and that his competitor 
 ought to have been returned. No, says a 
 great orator, first, shew me your law for this 
 proceeding. l Either produce me a statute, 
 f in which the specific disability of a clergy- 
 f man is created ; or produce me a precedent 
 ' where a clergyman has been returned, and 
 1 another candidate, with an inferior number 
 of votes, has been declared the sitting mem- 
 ' ber.' No such statute, no such precedent, 
 to be found. What answer then is to be 
 given to this demand ? The very same answer 
 which I will give to that of Junius: That 
 there is more than one precedent in the pro- 
 ceedings of the house ' where an incapable 
 * person has been returned, and another can-
 
 155 
 
 c didate, with an inferior number of votes, 
 f has been declared the sitting member ; and 
 
 * that this is the known and established law 
 
 * in all cases of incapacity, from whatever 
 ' cause it may arise.' 
 
 I shall now therefore beg leave to make a 
 slight amendment to Junius's state of the 
 question, the affirmative of which will then 
 stand thus : 
 
 ' It is the known and established law of 
 
 * parliament, that the expulsion of any mem- 
 ' ber of the house of commons, creates in 
 ' him an incapacity of being re-elected ; that 
 ' any votes given to him at a subsequent 
 
 * election are, in consequence of such inca- 
 ' pacity, null and void; and that any other 
 1 candidate, who, except the person rendered 
 ' incapable, has the greatest number of votes, 
 
 * ought to be the sitting member.' 
 
 But our business is not yet quite finished. 
 Mr. Walpole's case must have a re-hearing. 
 
 * It is not possible,' says this writer, ' to
 
 156 
 
 * conceive a case more exactly in point. 
 ' Mr. Walpole was expelled, *and having a 
 ' majority of votes at the next election, was 
 ' returned again. The friends of Mr. Tay- 
 ( lor, a candidate set up by the ministry, 
 ( petitioned the house that he might be the 
 ' sitting member. Thus far the circum- 
 ' stances tally exactly, except that our house 
 ( of commons saved Mr. Luttrell the trouble 
 ' of petitioning. The point of law, however, 
 ( was the same. It came regularly before the 
 
 * house, and it was their business to deter- 
 ' mine upon it. They did determine it; for 
 ' they declared Mr. Taylor not duly elected.' 
 
 Instead of examining the justness of this 
 representation, I shall beg leave to oppose 
 against it my own view of this case, in as 
 plain a manner and as few words as I am 
 able. 
 
 It was the known and established law of 
 parliament, when the charge against Mr. 
 Walpole came before the house of commons, 
 that they had power to expel, to disable, and
 
 157 
 
 to render incapable for offences. In virtue 
 of this power they expelled him. 
 
 Had they, in the very vote of expulsion, 
 adjudged him in terms to be incapable of 
 being re-elected, there must have been at 
 once an end with him. But though the 
 right of the house, both to expel, and ad- 
 judge incapable, was clear and indubitable, 
 it does not appear to me, that the full ope- 
 ration and effect of a vote of expulsion singly 
 was so. The law in this case had never been 
 expressly declared. There had been no event 
 to call up such a declaration. I trouble not 
 myself with the grammatical meaning of the 
 word expulsion. I regard only its legal 
 meaning. This was not, as I think, pre- 
 cisely fixed. The house thought proper to 
 fix it, and explicitly to declare the full con- 
 sequences of their former vote, before they 
 suffered these consequences to take effect. 
 And in this proceeding they acted upon the 
 most liberal and solid principles of equity, 
 justice, and law. What then did the bur- 
 gesses of Lynn collect from the second vote ?
 
 158 
 
 Their subsequent conduct will tell us: it will 
 with certainty tell us, that they considered it 
 as decisive against Mr. Walpole ; it will also, 
 with equal certainty, tell us, that, upon sup- 
 position that the law of election stood then 
 as it does now, and that they knew it to stand 
 thus, they inferred, ( that at a future election, 
 ' and in case of a similar return, the house 
 f would receive the same candidate, as duly 
 ( elected, whom they had before rejected.* 
 They could infer nothing but this. 
 
 It is needless to repeat the circumstance 
 of dissimilarity in the present case. It will 
 be sufficient to observe, that as the law of 
 parliament, upon which the house of com- 
 mons grounded every step of their pro- 
 ceedings, was clear beyond the reach of 
 doubt, so neither could the freeholders of 
 Middlesex be at a loss to foresee what must 
 be the inevitable consequence of their pro- 
 ceedings in opposition to it. For upon every 
 return of Mr.Wilkes the house made inquiry, 
 whether any votes were given to any other 
 candidate ?
 
 159 
 
 But I could venture, for the experiment's 
 sake, even to give this writer the utmost he 
 asks; to allow the most perfect similarity 
 throughout in these two cases; to allow that 
 the law of expulsion was quite as clear to the 
 burgesses of Lynn as to the freeholders of 
 Middlesex. It will, I am confident, avail his 
 cause but little. It will only prove that the 
 law of election at that time was different 
 from the present law. It will prove that, in 
 all cases of an incapable candidate returned, 
 the law then was, that the whole election 
 should be void. But now we know that this 
 is not law. The cases of Maiden and Bedford 
 were, as has been seen, determined upon 
 other and more just principles. And these 
 determinations are, I imagine, admitted on 
 all sides to be law. 
 
 I would willingly draw a veil over the 
 remaining part of this paper. It is astonish- 
 ing, it is painful, to see men of parts and 
 ability giving into the most unworthy arti- 
 fices, and descending so much below their 
 true line of character. But, if they are not
 
 l6o 
 
 the dupes of their sophistry (which is hardly 
 to be conceived), let them consider that they 
 are something much worse. 
 
 The dearest interests of this country are 
 its laws and its constitution. Against every 
 attack upon these there will, I hope, be al- 
 ways found amongst us the firmest spirit of 
 resistance, superior to the united efforts of 
 faction and ambition. For ambition, though 
 it does not always take the lead of faction, 
 will be sure in the end to make the most 
 fatal advantage of it, and draw it to its own 
 purposes. But, I trust, our day of trial is yet 
 far off; and there is a fund of good sense in 
 this country, which cannot long be deceived 
 by the arts either of false reasoning or false 
 patriotism.
 
 16J 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISED. 
 
 SIR, 8 August, 1/69. 
 
 THE gentleman who has published 
 an answer to sir William Meredith's pam- 
 phlet, having honoured me with a postscript 
 of six quarto pages, which he moderately 
 calls bestowing a very few words upon me, 
 I cannot, in common politeness, refuse him a 
 reply. The form and magnitude of a quarto 
 imposes upon the mind; and men who are 
 unequal to the labour of discussing an intri- 
 cate argument, or wish to avoid it, are wil- 
 ling enough to suppose that much has been 
 proved, because much has been said. Mine, 
 I confess, are humble labours. I do not pre- 
 sume to instruct the learned, but simply to 
 inform the body of the people : and I prefer 
 I M
 
 162 
 
 that channel of conveyance which is likely to 
 spread farthest among them. The advocates 
 of the ministry seem to me to write for fame, 
 and to flatter themselves, that the size of their 
 works will make them immortal. They pile 
 up reluctant quarto upon solid folio, as if 
 their labours, because they are gigantic, could 
 contend with truth and heaven. 
 
 The writer of the volume in question meets 
 me upon my own ground. He acknowledges 
 there is no statute by which the specific dis- 
 ability we speak of is created, but he affirms, 
 that the custom of parliament has been re- 
 ferred to, and that a case strictly in point has 
 been produced, with the decision of the court 
 upon it. I thank him for coming so fairly to 
 the point. He asserts, that the case of Mr. 
 Walpole is strictly in point to prove that ex- 
 pulsion creates an absolute incapacity of be- 
 ing re-elected; and for this purpose he refers 
 generally to the first vote of the house upon 
 that occasion, without venturing to recite the 
 vote itself. The unfair, disingenuous artifice 
 of adopting that part of a precedent which
 
 103 
 
 seems to suit his purpose, and omitting the 
 remainder, deserves some pity, but cannot 
 excite my resentment. He takes advantage 
 eagerly of the first resolution by which Mr. 
 Walpole's incapacity is declared; but as to 
 the two following, by which the candidate 
 with the fewest votes was declared ' not duly 
 elected,' and the election itself vacated, I dare 
 say he would be well satisfied if they were 
 for ever blotted out of the journals of the 
 house of commons. In fair argument, no part 
 of a precedent should be admitted, unless the 
 whole of it be given to us together. The au- 
 thor has divided his precedent, for he knew 
 that, taken together, it produced a conse- 
 quence directly the reverse of that which he 
 endeavours to draw from a vote of expulsion. 
 But what will this honest person say if I take 
 him at his word, and demonstrate to him, 
 that the house of commons never meant to 
 found Mr. Walpole's incapacity upon his ex- 
 pulsion only ? What subterfuge will then re- 
 main? 
 
 Let it be remembered that we are speaking
 
 164 
 
 of the intention of men who lived more than 
 half a century ago, and that such intention 
 can only be collected from their words and 
 actions, as they are delivered to us upon re- 
 cord. To prove their designs by a supposi- 
 tion of what they would have done, opposed 
 to what they actually did, is mere trifling and 
 impertinence. The vote "by which Mr. Wai- 
 pole's incapacity was declared, is thus ex- 
 pressed, c That Robert Walpole, esq. having 
 1 been this session of parliament committed 
 
 * a prisoner to the tower, and expelled this 
 
 * house for a breach of trust in the execution 
 
 * of his office, and notorious corruption when 
 ' secretary at war, was and is incapable of be- 
 ; ing elected a member to serve in this pre- 
 f sent parliament.* ' Now, sir, to my under- 
 standing, no proposition of this kind can be 
 more evident, than that the house of com- 
 mons, by this very vote, themselves under- 
 stood, and meant to declare, that Mr. Wai- 
 pole's incapacity arose from the crimes he 
 had committed, not from the punishment the 
 house annexed to them. The high breach of 
 trust, the notorious corruption, are stated in
 
 165 
 
 the strongest terms. They do not tell us that 
 he was incapable because he was expelled, 
 but because he had been guilty of such of- 
 fences as justly rendered him unworthy of a 
 seat in parliament. If they had intended to 
 fix the disability upon his expulsion alone, 
 the mention of his crimes in the same vote 
 would have been highly improper. It could 
 only perplex the minds of the electors, who, 
 if they collected any thing from so confused 
 a declaration of the law of parliament, must 
 have concluded that their representative had 
 been declared incapable because he was highly 
 guilty, not because he had been punished. 
 But, even admitting them to have understood 
 it in the other sense, they must then, from 
 the very terms of the vote, have united the 
 idea of his being sent to the tower with that 
 of his expulsion, and considered his incapa- 
 city as the joint effect of both. 
 
 I do not mean to give an opinion upon 
 the justice of the proceedings of the house of 
 commons with regard to Mr. Walpole; but 
 certainly, if I admitted their censure to be
 
 160 
 
 well founded, I could no way avoid agreeing 
 with them in the consequence they drew 
 from it. I could never have a doubt, in law 
 or reason, that a man convicted of a high 
 breach of trust, and of a notorious corrup- 
 tion, in the execution of a public office, was 
 and ought to be incapable of sitting in the 
 same parliament. Far from attempting to 
 invalidate that vote, I should have wished 
 that the incapacity declared by it could le- 
 gally have been continued for ever. 
 
 Now, sir, observe how forcibly the argu- 
 ment returns. The house of commons, upon 
 the face of their proceedings, had the strong- 
 est motives to declare Mr. Walpole incapable 
 of being re-elected. They thought such a 
 man unworthy to sit among them; to that 
 point they proceeded no farther, for they re- 
 spected the rights of the people while they 
 asserted their own. They did not infer from 
 Mr. Walpole' s incapacity, that his opponent 
 was duly elected; on the contrary, they de- 
 clared Mr. Taylor e Not duly elected/ and 
 the election itself void.
 
 16; 
 
 Such, however, is the precedent which 
 my honest friend assures us is strictly in point 
 to prove that expulsion of itself creates an 
 incapacity of being elected. If it had been 
 so, the present house of commons should at 
 least have followed strictly the example be- 
 fore them, and should have stated to us, in 
 the same vote, the crimes for which they ex- 
 pelled Mr. Wilkes; whereas they resolve sim- 
 ply, that, ' having been expelled, he was and 
 ' is incapable.' In this proceeding I am au- 
 thorised to affirm they have neither statute, 
 nor custom, nor reason, nor one single pre- 
 cedent, to support them. On the other side, 
 there is indeed a precedent so strongly in 
 point, that all the inchanted castles of minis- 
 terial magic fall before it. In the year ]6Q8 
 (a period which the rankest tory dare not ex- 
 cept against) Mr. Wollaston was expelled, 
 re-elected, and admitted to take his seat in 
 the same parliament. The ministry have pre- 
 cluded themselves from all objections drawn 
 from the cause of his expulsion, for they af- 
 firm absolutely, that expulsion of itself creates 
 the disability. Now, sir, let sophistry evade,
 
 1(38 
 
 let falsehood assert, and impudence deny 
 here stands the precedent, a land-mark to di- 
 rect us through a troubled sea of controversy, 
 conspicuous and unremoved. 
 
 I have dwelt the longer upon the discus- 
 sion of this point, because, in my opinion, it 
 comprehends the whole question. The rest is 
 unworthy of notice. We are inquiring whe- 
 ther incapacity be or be not created by ex- 
 pulsion. In the cases of Bedford and Mai- 
 den the incapacity of the persons returned 
 was matter of public notoriety, for it was 
 created by act of parliament. But really, sir, 
 my honest friend's suppositions are as unfa- 
 vourable to him as his facts. He well knows 
 that the clergy, besides that they are repre- 
 sented in common with their fellow subjects, 
 have also a separate parliament of their own ; 
 that their incapacity to sit in the house of 
 commons has been confirmed by repeated 
 decisions of the house, and that the law of 
 parliament, declared by those decisions, has 
 been for above two centuries notorious and 
 undisputed. The author is certainly at liberty
 
 to fancy cases, and make whatever compari- 
 sons he thinks proper; his suppositions still 
 continue as distant from fact as his wild dis- 
 courses are from solid argument. 
 
 The conclusion of his book is candid to 
 extreme. He offers to grant me all I desire. 
 He thinks he may safely admit that the case 
 of Mr. Wai pole makes directly against him, 
 for it seems he has one grand solution in 
 petto for all difficulties. If, says he, I were 
 to allow all this, it will only prove that the 
 law of election was different in Queen Anne's 
 time from what it is at present. 
 
 This indeed is more than I expected. The 
 principle, I know, has been maintained in 
 feet, but I never expected to see it so formally 
 declared. What can he mean? does he as- 
 sume this language to satisfy the doubts of 
 the people, or does he mean to rouse their 
 indignation ? Are the ministry daring enough 
 to affirm that the house of commons have a 
 right to make and unmake the law. of parlia- 
 ment at their pleasure ? Does the law of par-
 
 liament, which we are so often told is the law 
 of the land does the common right of every 
 subject of the realm depend upon an arbi- 
 trary capricious vote of one branch of the 
 legislature? The voice of truth and reason 
 must be silent. 
 
 The ministry tell us plainly that this is 
 no longer a question of right, but of power 
 and force alone. What was law yesterday is 
 not law to-day; and now it seems we have 
 no better rule to live by than the temporary 
 discretion and fluctuating integrity of the 
 house of commons. 
 
 Professions of patriotism are become stale 
 and ridiculous. For my own part, I claim 
 no merit from endeavouring to do a service 
 to my fellow subjects. I have done it to the 
 best of my understanding; and, without look- 
 ing for the approbation of other men, my 
 conscience is satisfied. What remains to be 
 done concerns the collective body of the peo- 
 ple. They are now to determine for them- 
 selves, whether they will firmly and consti-
 
 171 
 
 tutionally assert their rights, or make an hum- 
 ble, slavish surrender of them at the feet of 
 the ministry. To a generous mind there can- 
 not be a doubt. We owe it to our ances- 
 tors to preserve entire these rights, which 
 they have delivered to our care; we owe it 
 to our posterity, not to suffer their dearest 
 inheritance to be destroyed. But if it were 
 possible for us to be insensible of these sacred 
 claims, there is yet an obligation binding 
 upon ourselves from which nothing can ac- 
 quit us ; a personal interest which we cannot 
 surrender. To alienate even our own rights, 
 would be a crime as much more enormous 
 than suicide, as a life of civil security and free- 
 dom is superior to a bare existence; and if 
 life be the bounty of Heaven, we scornfully 
 reject the noblest part of the gift if we con- 
 sent to surrender that certain rule of living, 
 without which the condition of human na- 
 u ire is not only miserable, but contemptible. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 172 
 
 LETTER XXL 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER 
 SIR, 22 August, 1769. 
 
 I MUST beg of you to print a few 
 lines, in explanation of some passages in my 
 last letter, which I see have been misunder- 
 stood. 
 
 J . When I said that the house of com- 
 mons never meant to found Mr. Walpole's 
 incapacity on his expulsion only, I meant no 
 more than to deny the general proposition, 
 that expulsion alone creates the incapacity. 
 If there be any thing ambiguous in the ex- 
 pression, I beg leave to explain it by saying 
 that, in my opinion, expulsion neither creates, 
 nor in any part contributes to create, the in- 
 capacity in question. 
 
 2. I carefully avoided entering into the 
 merits of Mr. Walpole's case. I did not in-
 
 173 
 
 quire, whether the house of commons acted 
 j ustly, or whether they truly declared the law 
 of parliament. My remarks went only to 
 their apparent meaning and intention, as it 
 stands declared in their own resolution. 
 
 3. I never meant to affirm that a com- 
 mitment to the tower created a disqualifica- 
 tion. On the contrary, I considered that idea 
 as an absurdity, into which the ministry must 
 inevitably fall, if they reasoned right upon 
 their own principles. 
 
 The case of Mr. Wollaston speaks for it- 
 self. The ministry assert that expulsion alone 
 creates an absolute, complete incapacity to 
 .be re-elected to sit in the same parliament; 
 This proposition they have uniformly main- 
 tained, without any condition or modification 
 whatsoever. Mr. Wollaston was expelled, 
 re-elected, and admitted to take his seat, in 
 the same parliament. I leave it to the public 
 to determine, whether this be a plain matter 
 of fact, or mere nonsense or declamation. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 174 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 4 September, 1769. 
 
 ARGUMENT against FACT; or, A new system 
 of political logic, by which the ministry 
 have demonstrated, to the satisfaction of 
 their friends, that expulsion alone creates 
 a complete incapacity to be re-elected; 
 alias, that a subject of this realm may be 
 robbed of his common right by a vote of 
 the house of commons. 
 
 FIRST FACT. 
 
 MR. Wollaston, in 1698, was ex- 
 pelled, re-elected, and admitted to take his 
 seat. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 As this cannot conveniently be reconciled
 
 1/5 
 
 with our general proposition, it may be ne- 
 cessary to shift our ground, and look back to 
 the cause of Mr. Wollaston's expulsion. 
 From thence it will appear clearly that, ' al- 
 ' though he was expelled, he had not ren- 
 ' dered himself a culprit too ignominious to 
 ( sit in parliament, and that having resigned 
 t his employment, he was no longer incapa- 
 ' citated by law.' Vide Serious Considerations, 
 page 23. Or thus, ' The house somewhat 
 
 * inaccurately used the word expelled ; they 
 ' should have called it a motion.' Vide 
 Mungo's Case considered, page 1 1 . Or, in 
 short, if these arguments should be thought 
 insufficient, we may fairly deny the fact. 
 For example ; < I affirm that he was not re- 
 f elected. The same Mr. Wollaston who was 
 1 expelled, was not again elected. The same 
 
 * individual, if you please, walked into the 
 ' house, and took his seat there; but the 
 1 same person in law was not admitted a 
 
 * member of that parliament from which he 
 < has been discarded.' Vide Letter to Junius, 
 page 12.
 
 SECOND FACT. 
 
 Mr. Walpole having been committed to 
 the tower, and expelled for a high breach of 
 trust and notorious corruption in a public 
 office, was declared incapable, &c. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 From the terms of this vote, nothing can 
 be more evident than that the house of com- 
 mons meant to fix the incapacity upon the 
 punishment, and not upon the crime; but, 
 lest it should appear in a different light to 
 weak, uninformed persons, it may be ad- 
 visable to gut the resolution, and give it to 
 the public, with all possible solemnity, in 
 the following terms, viz. ' Resolved, that 
 4 Robert Walpole, esq. having been that ses- 
 ' sion of parliament expelled the house, was 
 * and is incapable of being elected member 
 ' to serve in that present parliament.' Vide 
 Mungo on the Use of Quotations, page 1 1 . 
 
 N. B. The author of the answer to sir 
 William Meredith seems to have made use
 
 177 
 
 of Mungo's quotation, for in page 1 8, he as- 
 sures us, ' That the declaratory vote of the 
 ( 17th of February, 1769, was indeed a li- 
 ' teral copy of the resolution of the house in 
 1 Mr. Walpole's case,' 
 
 THIRD FACT. 
 
 His opponent .Mr. Taylor, having the 
 smallest number of votes at the next election, 
 was declared not duly elected. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This fact we consider as directly in point 
 to prove that Mr. Luttrell ought to be the 
 sitting member, for the following reasons. 
 ( The burgesses of Lynn could draw no other 
 ' inference from this resolution but this, that 
 f Sit a future election, and in case of a si- 
 ( milar return, the house would receive the 
 ' same candidate as duly elected whom they 
 ' had before rejected.' Vide Postscript to Ju- 
 nius, page 37. Or thus: ' This their reso- 
 ' lution leaves no room to doubt what part 
 ' they would have taken, if, upon a subse- 
 
 ' quent re-election of Mr. Walpole, there 
 I N
 
 178 
 
 ' had been any other candidate in compe- 
 4 tition with him. For, by their vote, they 
 ' could have no other intention than to ad- 
 < mit such other candidate/ Vide Mungo's 
 Case considered, page 3Q. Or take it in this 
 light. The burgesses of Lynn having, in 
 defiance of the house, retorted upon them a 
 person whom they had branded with the most 
 ignominious marks of their displeasure, were 
 thereby so well entitled to favour and indul- 
 gence, that the house could do no less than 
 rob Mr. Taylor of a right legally vested in 
 him, in order that the burgesses might be ap- 
 prised of the law of parliament; which law 
 the house took a very direct way of explain- 
 ing to them, by resolving that the candidate 
 with the fewest votes was not duly elected : 
 
 * And was not this much more equitable, 
 
 * more in the spirit of that equal and sub- 
 1 stantial justice, which is the end of all law, 
 ' than if they had violently adhered to the 
 
 * strict maxims of law?' Vide Serious Con- 
 siderations, page 33 and 34. f And if the 
 
 * present house of commons had chosen to fol- 
 ' low the spirit of this resolution, they would
 
 3/9 
 
 * have received and established the candidate 
 c with the fewest votes.' Vide Answer to sir 
 W. M. page 1 8. 
 
 Permit me now, sir, to shew you that the 
 worthy Dr. Blackstone sometimes contradicts 
 the ministry as well as himself. The speech 
 without doors asserts, page 9, ' that the legal 
 ' effect of an incapacity, founded on a judi- 
 ' cial determination of a complete court, is 
 ' precisely the same as that of an incapacity 
 ' created by act of parliament.' Now for the 
 doctor. The law and the opinion of the 
 judge are not always convertible terms, or 
 one and the same thing; since it sometimes 
 may happen that the judge may mistake the 
 law. Commentaries, Vol. I. page Jl. 
 
 The answer to sir W. M. asserts, page 23, 
 f That the returning officer is not a judicial, 
 
 * but a purely ministerial officer. His return 
 ' is no judicial act.' At 'em again, doctor: 
 The sheriff, in his judicial capacity, is to 
 hear and determine causes of forty shillings 
 value and under in his county court. He has
 
 180 
 
 also a judicial power in divers other civil 
 cases. He is likewise to decide the elections 
 of knights of the shire (subject to the control 
 of the house of commons), to judge of the 
 qualification of voters, and to return such as 
 he shall determine to be duly elected. Vide 
 Commentaries, Vol. I. page 332. 
 
 What conclusion shall we draw from such 
 facts, and such arguments, such contradic- 
 tions? I cannot express my opinion of the 
 present ministry more exactly than in the 
 words of sir Richard Steele, ' that we are 
 ( governed by a set of drivellers, whose folly 
 ' takes away all dignity from distress, and 
 ' makes even calamity ridiculous.' 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 

 
 DUKE oi BEDFORD . 
 
 Vemorklfooel. 2/> &?<.
 
 181 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BEDFORD. 
 MY LORD, 19 Sept. 1769. 
 
 You arc so little accustomed 
 to receive any marks of respect or esteem from 
 the public, that if in the following lines a 
 compliment or expression of applause should 
 escape me, I fear you would consider it as a 
 mockery of your established character, and 
 perhaps an insult to your understanding. 
 You have nice feelings, my lord, if we may 
 judge from your resentments. Cautious there- 
 fore of giving offence where you have so little 
 deserved it, I shall leave the illustration of 
 your virtues to other hands. Your friends 
 have a privilege to play upon the easiness of 
 your temper, or possibly they are better ac- 
 quainted with your good qualities than I am.
 
 182 
 
 You have done good by stealth. The rest is 
 upon record. You have still left ample room 
 for speculation, when panegyric is exhausted. 
 
 You are indeed a very considerable man. 
 The highest rank; a splendid fortune; and 
 a name, glorious till it was yours, were suf- 
 ficient to have supported you with meaner 
 abilities than I think you possess. From the 
 first you derive a constitutional claim to re- 
 spect; from the second a natural extensive 
 authority ; the last created a partial expecta- 
 tion of hereditary virtues. The use you have 
 made of these uncommon advantages might 
 have been more honourable to yourself, but 
 could not be more instructive to mankind. 
 We may trace it in the veneration of your 
 country, the choice of your friends, and in 
 the accomplishment of every sanguine hope 
 which the public might have conceived from 
 the illustrious name of Russel. 
 
 The eminence of your station gave you a 
 commanding prospect of your duty. The 
 road which led to honour was open to your
 
 183 
 
 view. You could not lose it by mistake, and 
 you had no temptation to depart from it by 
 design. Compare the natural dignity and 
 importance of the highest peer of England ; 
 the noble independence which he might 
 have maintained in parliament, and the real 
 interest and respect which he might have 
 acquired, not only in parliament, but through 
 the whole kingdom ; compare these glorious 
 distinctions with the ambition of holding a 
 share in government, the emoluments of a 
 place, the sale of a borough, or the purchase 
 of a corporation ; and though you may regret 
 the virtues which create respect, you may 
 see with anguish how much real importance 
 and authority you have lost. Consider the 
 character of an independent virtuous duke 
 of Bedford; imagine what he might be in 
 this contrary, then reflect one moment upon 
 what you are. If it be possible for me to 
 withdraw my attention from the fact, I will 
 tell you in theory what such a man might 
 be. 
 
 Conscious of his own weight and impor-
 
 184 
 
 tance, his conduct in parliament would be 
 directed by nothing but the constitutional 
 duty of a peer. He would consider himself 
 as a guardian of the laws. Willing to sup- 
 port the just measures of government, but 
 determined to observe the conduct of the 
 minister with suspicion, he would oppose the 
 violence of faction with as much firmness as 
 the encroachments of prerogative. He would 
 be as little capable of bargaining with the 
 minister for places for himself, or his depen- 
 dants, as of descending to mix himself in the 
 intrigues of opposition. Whenever an im- 
 portant question called for his opinion in 
 parliament, he would be heard, by the most 
 profligate minister, with deference and re- 
 spect. His authority would either sanctify 
 or disgrace the measures of government. The 
 people would look up to him as to their pro- 
 tector, and a virtuous prince would have one 
 honest man in his dominions in whose in- 
 tegrity and judgment he might safely confide. 
 If it should be the will of Providence to 
 afflict y him with a domestic misfortune, he 
 would submit to the stroke with feeling, but
 
 185 
 
 not without dignity. He would consider the 
 people as his children, and receive a gene- 
 rous heartfelt consolation in the sympathising 
 tears and blessings of his country. 
 
 Your grace may probably discover some- 
 thing more intelligible in the negative part 
 of this illustrious character. The man I have 
 described would never prostitute his dignity 
 in parliament by an indecent violence either 
 in opposing or defending a minister. He 
 would not at one moment rancorously perse- 
 cute, at another basely cringe to, the fa- 
 vourite of his sovereign. After outraging the 
 royal dignity with peremptory conditions, 
 little short of menace and hostility, he would 
 never descend to the humility of soliciting 
 an interview 2 with the favourite, and of of- 
 fering to recover, at any price, the honour of 
 his friendship. Though deceived perhaps in 
 his youth, he would not, through the course 
 of a long life, have invariably chosen his 
 friends from among the most profligate of 
 mankind. His own honour would have for- 
 bidden him from mixing his private pleasures
 
 18(3 
 
 or conversation with jockeys, gamesters, blas- 
 phemers, gladiators, or buffoons. He would 
 then have never felt, much less would he 
 have submitted to, the dishonest necessity of 
 engaging in the interest and intrigues of his 
 dependants, of supplying their vices, or re- 
 lieving their beggary, at the expence of his 
 country. He would not have betrayed such 
 ignorance, or such contempt of the constitu- 
 tion, as openly to avow in a court of justice 
 the purchase and sale of a borough.* He 
 would not have thought it consistent with 
 his rank in the state, or even with his per- 
 sonal importance, to be the little tyrant of a 
 little corporation. b He would never have 
 been insulted with virtues, which he had 
 laboured to extinguish, nor suffered the dis- 
 grace of a mortifying defeat, which has made 
 him ridiculous and contemptible, even to the 
 few by whom he was not detested. I reve- 
 rence the afflictions of a good man, his sor- 
 rows are sacred. But how can we take part 
 in the distresses of a man whom we can nei- 
 ther love nor esteem ; or feel for a calamity of 
 which he himself is insensible ? Where was
 
 187 
 
 the father's heart when he could look for, or 
 find an immediate consolation, for the loss of 
 an only son, in consultations and bargains 
 for a place at court, and even in the misery 
 of balloting at the India house ! 
 
 Admitting then that you have mistaken 
 or deserted those honourable principles which 
 ought to have directed your conduct; ad- 
 mitting that you have as little claim to pri- 
 vate affection as to public esteem, let us see 
 with what abilities, with what degree of judg- 
 ment, you have carried your own system 
 into execution. A great man, in the success 
 and even in the magnitude of his crimes, 
 finds a rescue from contempt. Your grace is 
 every way unfortunate. Yet I will not look 
 back to those ridiculous scenes by which, in 
 your earlier days, you thought it an honour 
 to be distinguished; the recorded stripes, 
 the public infamy, your own sufferings, or 
 Mr. Rigby's fortitude. These events un- 
 doubtedly left an impression, though not 
 upon your mind. To such a mind it may 
 perhaps be a pleasure to reflect, that there is
 
 188 
 
 hardly a corner of any of his majesty's king- 
 doms, except France, in which, at one time 
 or other, your valuable life has not been in 
 danger. Amiable man ! we see and acknow- 
 ledge the protection of Providence, by which 
 you have so often escaped the personal de- 
 testation of your fellow subjects, and are still 
 reserved for the public justice of your coun- 
 try. 
 
 Your history begins to be important at 
 that auspicious period at which you were 
 deputed to represent the earl of Bute at the 
 court of Versailles. It was an honourable 
 office, and executed with the same spirit 
 with which it was accepted. Your patrons 
 wanted an ambassador who would submit to 
 make concessions, without daring to insist 
 upon any honourable condition for his sove- 
 reign. Their business required a man who 
 had as little feeling for his own dignity as for 
 the welfare of his country; and they found 
 him in the first rank of the nobility. Bel- 
 leisle, Goree, Guadeloupe, St. Lucia, Mar- 
 tinique, the Fishery, and the Havanna, are
 
 180 
 
 glorious monuments of your grace's talents 
 for negociation. My lord, we are too well 
 acquainted with your pecuniary character, to 
 think it possible that so many public sacri- 
 fices should have been made, without some 
 private compensations. Your conduct carries 
 with it an internal evidence, beyond all the 
 legal proofs of a court of justice. Even the 
 callous pride of lord Egremont was alarmed d . 
 He saw and felt his own dishonour in cor- 
 responding with you : and there certainly 
 was a moment at which he meant to have 
 resisted, had not a fatal lethargy prevailed 
 over his faculties, and carried all sense and 
 memory away with it. 
 
 I will not pretend to specify the secret 
 terms on which you were invited to support 
 an administration 6 which Lord Bute pre- 
 tended to leave in full possession of their mi- 
 nisterial authority, and perfectly masters of 
 themselves. He was not of a temper to re- 
 linquish power, though he retired from em- 
 ployment. Stipulations were certainly made 
 between your grace and him, and certainly
 
 igo 
 
 violated. After two years submission, you 
 thought you had collected a strength suffi- 
 cient to controul his influence, and that it 
 was your turn to be a tyrant, because you 
 had been a slave. When you found yourself 
 mistaken in your opinion of your gracious 
 master's firmness, disappointment got the 
 better of all your humble discretion, and 
 carried you to an excess of outrage to his 
 person as distant from true spirit as from all 
 decency and respect/ After robbing him of 
 the rights of a king, you would not permit 
 him to preserve the honour of a gentleman. 
 It was then lord Weymouth was nominated 
 to Ireland, and dispatched (we well remem- 
 ber with what indecent hurry) to plunder 
 the treasury of the first fruits of an employ- 
 ment which you well knew he was never to 
 execute, s 
 
 This sudden declaration of war against 
 the favourite might have given you a mo- 
 mentary merit with the public, if it had 
 either been adopted upon principle or main- 
 tained with resolution. Without looking
 
 101 
 
 back to all your former servility, we need 
 only observe your subsequent conduct, to 
 see upon what motives you acted. Appa- 
 rently united with Mr. Grenville, you waited 
 until lord Rockingham's feeble administra- 
 tion should dissolve in its own weakness. The 
 moment their dismission was suspected, the 
 moment you perceived that another system 
 was adopted in the closet, you thought it no 
 disgrace to return to your former depend- 
 ence, and solicited once more the friendship 
 of lord Bute. You begged an interview, at 
 which he had spirit enough to treat you with 
 contempt. 
 
 It would now be of little use to point out 
 by what a train of weak, injudicious mea- 
 sures, it became necessary, or was thought 
 so, to call you back to a share in the admi- 
 nistration. 11 The friends, whom you did not 
 in the last instance desert, were not of a cha- 
 racter to add strength or credit to govern- 
 ment; and at that time your alliance with 
 the duke of Grafton was, I presume, hardly 
 foreseen. We must look for other stipula-
 
 1Q2 
 
 tions, to account for that sudden resolution 
 of the closet by which three of your depend- 
 ants 1 (whose characters, I think, cannot be 
 less respected than they are) were advanced 
 to offices through which you might again 
 controul the minister, and probably engross 
 the whole direction of affairs. 
 
 The possession of absolute power is now 
 once more within your reach. The measures 
 you have taken to obtain and confirm it, are 
 too gross to escape the eyes of a discerning 
 judicious prince. His palace is besieged ; the 
 lines of circumvallation are drawing round 
 him; and unless he finds a resource in his 
 own activity, or in .the attachment of the 
 real friends of his family, the best of princes 
 must submit to the confinement of a state 
 prisoner until your grace's death, or some 
 less fortunate event shall raise the siege. For 
 the present, you may safely resume that stile 
 of insult and menace which even a private 
 gentleman cannot submit to hear without be- 
 ing contemptible. Mr. Mackenzie's history 
 is not yet forgotten, and you may find pre-
 
 193 
 
 ccdents enough of the mode in which an im- 
 perious subject may signify his pleasure to 
 his sovereign. Where will this gracious mo- 
 narch look for assistance, when the wretched 
 Grafton could forget his obligations to his 
 master, and desert him for a hollow alliance 
 with such a man as the duke of Bedford ! 
 
 Let us consider you, then, as arrived at 
 the summit of worldly greatness : let us sup- 
 pose, that all your plans of avarice and am- 
 bition are accomplished, and your most san- 
 guine wishes gratified in the fear, as well as 
 the hatred, of the people. Can age itself for- 
 get that you are now in the last act of life ? 
 Can grey hairs make folly venerable ? and is 
 there no period to be reserved for meditation 
 and retirement ? For shame ! my lord : let it 
 not be recorded of you, that the latest mo- 
 ments of your life were dedicated to the same 
 unworthy pursuits, the same busy agitations, 
 in which your youth and manhood were ex- 
 hausted. Consider that, although you can- 
 not disgrace your former life, you are violat- 
 ing the character of age, and exposing the 
 I O
 
 194 
 
 impotent imbecility, after you have lost the 
 vigour, of the passions. 
 
 Your friends will ask perhaps, Whither 
 shall this unhappy old man retire ? Can he 
 remain in the metropolis, where his life has 
 been so often threatened, and his palace so 
 often attacked ? If he returns to Wooburn, 
 scorn and mockery await him. He must 
 create a solitude round his estate, if he would 
 avoid the face of reproach and derision. At 
 Plymouth, his destruction would be more 
 than probable ; at Exeter, inevitable. No ho- 
 nest Englishman will ever forget his attach- 
 ment, nor any honest Scotchman forgive his 
 treachery, to lord Bute. At every town he 
 enters he must change his liveries and name. 
 Whichever way he flies, the hue and cry of 
 the country pursues him. 
 
 In another kingdom indeed, the blessings 
 of his administration have been more sensi- 
 bly felt; his virtues better understood; or, 
 at worst, they will not, for him alone, forget 
 their hospitality. As well might Verres have
 
 returned to Sicily. You have twice escaped, 
 my lord ; beware of a third experiment. The 
 indignation of a whole people, plundered, in- 
 sulted, and oppressed as they have been, will 
 not always be disappointed. 
 
 It is in vain therefore to shift the scene. 
 You can no more fly from your enemies than 
 from yourself. Persecuted abroad, you look 
 into your own heart for consolation, and find 
 nothing but reproaches and despair. But, 
 my lord, you may quit the field of business, 
 though not the field of danger; and though 
 you cannot be safe, you may cease to be ridi- 
 culous. I fear you have listened too long to 
 the advice of those pernicious friends with 
 whose interests you have sordidly united your 
 own, and for whom you have sacrificed every- 
 thing that ought to be dear to a man of ho- 
 nour. They are still base enough to encou- 
 rage the follies of your age, as they once did 
 the vices of your youth. As little acquainted 
 with the rules of decorum as with the laws 
 of morality, they will not suffer you to profit 
 by experience, nor even to consult the pro-
 
 priety of a bad character. Even now they 
 tell you, that life is no more than a dramatic 
 scene, in which the hero should preserve his 
 consistency to the last, and that, as you lived 
 without virtue, you should die without re- 
 pentance. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 197 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 TO 
 
 JUNIUS. 
 
 SIR, 14 September, 
 
 HAVING accidentally seen a repub- 
 lication of your letters, wherein you have 
 been pleased to assert that I had sold the 
 companions of my success, I am again ob- 
 liged to declare the said assertion to be a 
 most infamous and malicious falsehood; and 
 I again call upon you to stand forth, avow 
 yourself, and prove the charge.- If you can 
 make it out to the satisfaction of any one 
 man in the kingdom, I will be content to be 
 thought the worst man in it; if you do not, 
 what must the nation think of you? Party 
 has nothing to do in this affair: you have 
 made a personal attack upon my honour, de- 
 famed me by a most vile calumny, which
 
 198 
 
 might possibly have sunk into oblivion, had 
 not such uncommon pains been taken to 
 renew and perpetuate this scandal, chiefly 
 because it has been told in good language: 
 for I give you full credit for your elegant 
 diction, well turned periods, and attic wit; 
 but wit is oftentimes false, though it may ap- 
 pear brilliant; which is exactly the case of 
 your whole performance. But, sir, I am ob- 
 liged in the most serious manner to accuse 
 you of being guilty of falsities. You have 
 said the thing that is not. To support your 
 stoiy, you have recourse to the following 
 irresistible argument : ' You sold the compa- 
 ' nions of your victory, because when the 
 ' sixteenth regiment was given to you, you 
 s . was silent.' The conclusion is inevitable. 
 I believe that such deep and acute reasoning 
 could only come from such an extraordinary 
 writer as Junius. But, unfortunately for you, 
 the premises as well as the conclusion are 
 absolutely false. Many applications have 
 been made to the ministry on the subject of 
 the Manilla ransom since the time of my 
 being colonel of that regiment. As I have
 
 199 
 
 for some years quitted London, I was obliged 
 to have recourse to the honourable colonel 
 Monson and sir Samuel Cornish to negociate 
 for me ; in the last autumn, I personally de- 
 livered a memorial to the earl of Shelburnc 
 at' his seat in Wiltshire. As you have told us 
 of your importance, that you are a person of 
 rank and fortune, and above a common bribe, 
 you may in all probability be not unknown 
 to his lordship, who can satisfy you of the 
 truth of what I say. But I shall now take the 
 liberty, sir, to seize your battery, and turn it 
 against yourself. If your puerile and tinsel 
 logic could carry the least weight or convic- 
 tion with it, how must you stand affected by 
 the inevitable conclusion, as you are pleased 
 to term it? According to Junius silence is 
 guilt. In many of the public papers you 
 have been called in the most direct and of- 
 fensive terms a liar and a coward. When 
 did you reply to these foul accusations ? You 
 have been quite silent; quite chop-fallen: 
 therefore, because you was silent, the nation 
 has a right to pronounce you to be both a 
 liar and a coward from your own argument :
 
 200 
 
 but, sir, I will give you fair 'play ; will afford 
 you an opportunity to wipe off the first ap- 
 pellation, by desiring the proofs of your 
 charge against me. Produce them ! To wipe 
 off the last, produce yourself. People can- 
 not bear any longer your lion's skin, and the 
 despicable imposture of the old Roman name 
 which you have affected. For the future as- 
 sume the name of some modern bravo and 
 dark assassin : k let your appellation have some 
 affinity to your practice. But if I must perish, 
 Junius, let me perish in the face of day ; be 
 for once a generous and open enemy. I al- 
 low that gothic appeals to cold iron are no 
 better proofs of a man's honesty and veracity 
 than hot iron and burning ploughshares are 
 of female chastity : but a soldier's honour is 
 as delicate as a woman's ; it must not be sus- 
 pected ; you have dared to throw more than a 
 suspicion upon mine : you cannot but know 
 the consequences, which even the meekness 
 of Christianity would pardon me for, after 
 the injury you have done me. 
 
 WILLIAM DRAPER.
 
 201 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 Haeret lateri lethalis arundo. 
 
 TO 
 SIR WILLIAM DRAPER, K. B. 
 
 SIR, 25 September, 1769. 
 
 AFTER so long an interval, I did 
 not expect to see the debate revived between 
 us. My answer to your last letter shall be 
 short ; for I write to you with reluctance, and 
 I hope we shall now conclude our correspon- 
 dence for ever. 
 
 Had you been originally and without pro- 
 vocation attacked by an anonymous writer, 
 you would have some right to demand his 
 name. But in this cause you are a volunteer. 
 You engaged in it with the unpremeditated 
 gallantry of a soldier. You were content to 
 set your name in opposition to a man who
 
 202 
 
 would probably continue in concealment. 
 You understood the terms upon which we 
 were to correspond, and gave at least a tacit 
 assent to them. After voluntarily attacking 
 me under the character of Junius, what pos- 
 sible right have you to know me under any 
 other ? Will you forgive me if I insinuate to 
 you, that you foresaw some honour in the ap- 
 parent spirit of coming forward in person, and 
 that you were not quite indifferent to the dis- 
 play of your literary qualifications ? 
 
 You cannot but know that the republica- 
 tion of my letters was no more than a catch- 
 penny contrivance of a printer, in which it 
 was impossible I should be concerned, and 
 for which I am no way answerable. At the 
 same time I wish you to understand, that if 
 I do not take the trouble of reprinting these 
 papers, it is not from any fear of giving of- 
 fence to sir William Draper. 
 
 Your remarks upon a signature adopted 
 merely for distinction, are unworthy of notice ; 
 but when you tell me I have submitted to be
 
 203 
 
 called a liar and a coward, I must ask you in 
 my turn, whether you seriously think it any 
 way incumbent upon me to take notice of the 
 silly invectives of every simpleton who writes 
 in a newspaper ; and what opinion you would 
 have conceived of my discretion, if I had suf- 
 fered myself to be the dupe of so shallow an 
 artifice ? 
 
 Your appeal to the sword, though con- 
 sistent enough with your late profession, will 
 neither prove your innocence nor clear you 
 from suspicion. Your complaints with re- 
 gard to the Manilla ransom were for a con- 
 siderable time a distress to government. You 
 were appointed (greatly out of your turn) to 
 the command of a regiment, and during that 
 administration we heard no more of sir Wil- 
 liam Draper. The facts of which I speak 
 may indeed be variously accounted for, but 
 they are too notorious to be denied; and I 
 think you might have learnt at the university, 
 that a false conclusion is an error in argu- 
 ment, not a breach of veracity. Your solici- 
 tations, I doubt not, were renewed under
 
 204 
 
 another administration. Admitting the fact, 
 I fear an indifferent person would only infer 
 from it, that experience had made you ac- 
 quainted with the benefits of complaining. 
 Remember, sir, that you have yourself con- 
 fessed, that, considering the critical situation 
 of this country, the ministry are in the right 
 to temporise with Spain. This confession re- 
 duces you to an unfortunate dilemma. By 
 renewing your solicitations, you must either 
 mean to force your country into a war at a 
 most unseasonable juncture; or, having no 
 view or expectation of that kind, that you 
 look for nothing but a private compensation 
 to yourself. 
 
 As to me, it is by no means necessary that 
 I should be exposed to the resentment of the 
 worst and the most powerful men in this 
 country, though I may be indifferent about 
 yours. Though you would fight, there are 
 others who would assassinate. 
 
 But after all, sir, where is the injury? 
 You assure me, that my logic is puerile and
 
 205 
 
 tinsel ; that it carries not the least weight or 
 conviction; that my premises are false and 
 my conclusions absurd. If this be a just 
 description of me, how is it possible for such 
 a writer to disturb your peace of mind, or to 
 injure a character so well established as yours ? 
 Take care, sir William, how you indulge this 
 unruly temper, lest the world should suspect 
 that conscience has some share in your re- 
 sentments. You have more to fear from the 
 treachery of your own passions than from any 
 malevolence of mine. 
 
 I believe, sir, you will never know me, 
 A considerable time must certainly elapse be- 
 fore we are personally acquainted. You need 
 not, however, regret the delay, or suffer an 
 apprehension that any length of time can re- 
 store you to the Christian meekness of your 
 temper, and disappoint your present indigna- 
 tion. If I understand your character, there 
 is in your own breast a repository in which 
 your resentments may be safely laid up for 
 future occasions, and preserved without the 
 hazard of diminution. The pdia in longum
 
 206 
 
 jaciens, quae reconderet, atictaque promeret, 
 I thought had only belonged to the worst 
 character of antiquity. The text is in Taci- 
 tus; you know best where to look for the 
 commentary. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 SIR WILLIAM DRAPER.
 
 207 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 A JrORD AT PARTING TO JUNIUS. 
 
 SIR, 7 October, 1769. 
 
 As you have not favoured me with 
 either of the explanations demanded of you, 
 I can have nothing more to say to you upon 
 my own account. Your mercy to me, or 
 tenderness for yourself, has been very great. 
 The public will judge of your motives. If 
 your excess of modesty forbids you to pro- 
 duce either the proofs or yourself, I will ex- 
 cuse it. Take courage ; I have not the tem- 
 per of Tiberius, any more than the rank or 
 power. You, indeed, are a tyrant of another 
 sort, and upon your political bed of torture 
 can excruciate any subject, from a first mi- 
 nister down to such a grub or butterfly as 
 myself; like another detested tyrant of anti- 
 quity, can make the wretched sufferer fit the
 
 208 
 
 bed, if the bed will not fit the sufferer, by 
 disjointing or tearing the trembling limbs 
 until they are stretched to its extremity. But 
 courage, constancy, and patience, under tor- 
 ments, have sometimes caused the most hard- 
 ened monsters to relent, and forgive the 
 object of their cruelty. You, sir, are deter- 
 mined to try all that human nature can en- 
 dure until she expires : else, was it possible 
 that you could be the author of that most in- 
 human letter to the duke of Bedford I have 
 read with astonishment and horror? Where, 
 sir, where were the feelings of your own 
 heart, when you could upbraid a most af- 
 fectionate father with the loss of his only and 
 most amiable son? Read over again those 
 cruel lines of yours, and let them wring your 
 very soul ! Cannot political questions be dis- 
 cussed without descending to the most odi- 
 ous personalities ? Must you go wantonly out 
 of your way to torment declining age, be- 
 cause the duke of Bedford may have quar- 
 relled with those whose cause and politics 
 you espouse? For shame! for shame! As 
 you have spoke daggers to him, you may
 
 200 
 
 justly dread the use of them against your 
 own breast, did a want of courage, or of 
 noble sentiments, stimulate him to such mean 
 revenge. He is above it; he is brave. Do 
 you fancy that your own base arts have in- 
 fected our whole island ? But your own re- 
 flections, your own conscience, must and 
 will, if you have any spark of humanity re- 
 maining, give him most ample vengeance. 
 Not all the power of words, with which you 
 are so graced, will ever wash out or even 
 palliate this foul blot in your character. I 
 have not time at present to dissect your letter 
 so minutely as I could wish, but I will be 
 bold enough to say, that it is (as to reason 
 and argument) the most extraordinary piece 
 of florid impotence that was ever imposed 
 upon the eyes and cars of the too credulous 
 and deluded mob. It accuses the duke of 
 Bedford of high treason. Upon what foun- 
 dation ? You tell us, ' that the duke's pecu- 
 ( niary character makes it more than proba- 
 ' ble, that he could not have made such sa- 
 
 * crifices at the peace, without some private 
 
 * compensations; that his conduct carried
 
 210 
 
 c with it an interior evidence, beyond all the 
 ' legal proofs of a court of justice.' 
 
 My academical education, sir, bids me tell 
 you that it is necessary to establish the truth 
 of your first proposition, before you presume 
 to draw inferences from it. First prove the 
 avarice, before you make the rash, hasty, and 
 most wicked conclusion. This father, Ju- 
 nius, whom you call avaricious, allowed that 
 son eight thousand pounds a year. Upon his 
 most unfortunate death, which your usual 
 good-nature took care to remind him of, he 
 greatly increased the jointure of the afflicted 
 lady his widow. Is this avarice ? Is this doing 
 good by stealth ? It is upon record. 
 
 If exact order, method, and true eco- 
 nomy, as a master of a family; if splendor 
 and just magnificence, without wild waste 
 and thoughtless extravagance, may constitute 
 the character of an avaricious man, the duke 
 is guilty. But for a moment let us admit that 
 an ambassador may love money too much; 
 what proof do you give that he has taken any
 
 to betray his country ? Is it hearsay ; or the 
 evidence of letters, or ocular ; or the evidence 
 of those concerned in this black affair ? Pro- 
 duce your authorities to the public. It is a 
 most impudent kind of sorcery to attempt to 
 blind us with the smoke, without convincing 
 us that the fire has existed. You first brand 
 him with a vice that he is free from, to 
 render him odious and suspected. Suspicion 
 is the foul weapon with which you make all 
 your chief attacks ; with that you stab. But 
 shall one of the first subjects of the realm be 
 ruined in his fame ; shall even his life be in 
 constant danger, from a charge built upon 
 such sandy foundations ? Must his house be 
 besieged by lawless ruffians, his joumies im- 
 peded, and even the asylum of an altar be 
 insecure, from assertions so base and false ? 
 Potent as he is, the duke is amenable to jus- 
 tice; if guilty, punishable. The parliament 
 is the high and solemn tribunal for matters 
 of such great moment. To that be they sub- 
 mitted. But I hope also that some notice 
 will be taken of, and some punishment in- 
 flicted upon, false accusers, especially upon
 
 212 
 
 such, Junius, who are wilfully false. In 
 any truth I will agree even with Junius ; will 
 agree with him that it is highly unbecoming 
 the dignity of peers to tamper with boroughs. 
 Aristocracy is as fatal as democracy. Our 
 constitution admits of neither. It loves a 
 king, lords, and commons, really chosen by 
 the unbought suffrages of a free people. But 
 if corruption only shifts hands ; if the wealthy 
 commoner gives the bribe instead of the po- 
 tent peer, is the state better served by this 
 exchange ? Is the real emancipation of the 
 borough effected because new parchment 
 bonds may possibly supersede the old? To 
 say the truth, wherever such practices prevail, 
 they are equally criminal to and destructive 
 of our freedom. 
 
 The rest of your declamation is scarce 
 worth considering, excepting for the elegance 
 of the language. Like Hamlet in the play, 
 you produce two pictures : you tell us that one 
 is not like the duke of Bedford ; then you 
 bring a most hideous caricature, and tell us of 
 the resemblance; but multum abludit imago.
 
 213 
 
 All your long tedious accounts of the mi- 
 nisterial quarrels, and the intrigues of the 
 cabinet, are reducible to a few short lines; 
 and to convince you, sir, that I do not mean 
 to flatter any minister, either past or present, 
 these are my thoughts: they seem to have 
 acted like lovers, or children ; have pouted, 
 quarrelled, cried, kissed, and been friends 
 again; as the objects of desire, the minis- 
 terial rattles, have been put into their hands. 
 But such proceedings are very unworthy of 
 the gravity and dignity of a great nation. 
 We do not want men of abilities; but we 
 have wanted steadiness ; we want unanimity : 
 your letters, Junius, will not contribute there- 
 to. You may one day expire by a flame of 
 your own kindling. But it is my humble 
 opinion that lenity and moderation, pardon 
 and oblivion, will disappoint the efforts of all 
 the seditious in the land, and extinguish their 
 wide spreading fires. I have lived with this 
 sentiment; with this I shall die. 
 
 WILLIAM DRAPER.
 
 214 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 13 October, 1769- 
 
 IP sir William Draper's bed be a 
 bed of torture, he has made it for himself. 
 I shall never interrupt his repose. Having 
 changed the subject, there are parts of his 
 last letter not undeserving of a reply. Leaving 
 his private character and conduct out of the 
 question, I shall consider him merely in the 
 capacity of an author whose labours certainly 
 do no discredit to a newspaper. 
 
 We say, in common discourse, that a man 
 may be his own enemy, and the frequency of 
 the fact makes the expression intelligible. 
 But that a man should be the bitterest enemy 
 of his friends, implies a contradiction of a
 
 215 
 
 peculiar nature. There is something in it 
 which cannot be conceived without a con- 
 fusion of ideas, nor expressed without a 
 solecism in language. Sir William Draper 
 is still that fatal friend lord Granby found 
 him. Yet I am ready to do justice to his 
 generosity, if indeed it be not something 
 more than generous to be the voluntary ad- 
 vocate of men who think themselves injured 
 by his assistance, and to consider nothing 
 in the cause he adopts but the difficulty 
 of defending it. I thought, however, he had 
 been better read in the history of the hu- 
 man heart than to compare or confound the 
 tortures of the body with those of the mind. 
 He ought to have known, though perhaps 
 it might not be his interest to confess, that 
 no outward tyranny can reach the mind. If 
 conscience plays the tyrant, it would be 
 greatly for the benefit of the world that she 
 were more arbitrary, and far less placable, 
 than some men find her. 
 
 But it seems I have outraged the feelings 
 of a father's heart. Am I indeed so inju-
 
 210 
 
 dicious? Does sir William Draper think I 
 would have hazarded my credit with a ge- 
 nerous nation by so gross a violation of the 
 laws of humanity? Does he think I am so 
 little acquainted with the first and noblest 
 characteristic of Englishmen ? Or how will 
 he reconcile such folly with an understand- 
 ing so full of artifice as mine ? Had he been a 
 father, he would have been little offended 
 with the severity of the reproach, for his 
 mind would have been filled with the jus- 
 tice of it. He would have seen that I did 
 not insult the feelings of a father, but the 
 father who felt nothing. He would have 
 trusted to the evidence of his own paternal 
 heart, and boldly denied the possibility of the 
 fact, instead of defending it. Against whom 
 then will his honest indignation be directed, 
 when I assure him, that this whole town 
 beheld the duke of Bedford's conduct, upon 
 the death of his son, with horror and asto- 
 nishment. Sir William Draper does himself 
 but little honour in opposing the general 
 sense of his country. The people are seldom 
 wrong in their opinions, in their sentiments
 
 217 
 
 they are never mistaken. There may be a 
 vanity perhaps in a singular way of think- 
 ing; but when a man professes a want of 
 those feelings which do honour to the mul- 
 titude, he hazards something infinitely more 
 important than the character of his under- 
 standing. After all, as sir William may pos- 
 sibly be in earnest in his anxiety for the duke 
 of Bedford, I should be glad to relieve him 
 from it. He may rest assured this worthy 
 nobleman laughs, with equal indifference, 
 at my reproaches, and sir William's distress 
 about him. But here let it stop. Even the 
 duke of Bedford, insensible as he is, will con- 
 sult the tranquillity of his life, in not pro- 
 voking the moderation of my temper. If, 
 from the profoundest contempt, I should ever 
 rise into anger, he should soon find that all 
 I have already said of him was lenity and 
 compassion. 
 
 Out of a long catalogue, sir William 
 Draper has confined himself to the refutation 
 of two charges only. The rest he had not 
 time to discuss; and indeed it would have
 
 218 
 
 been a laborious undertaking. To draw up 
 a defence of such a series of enormities, would 
 have required a life at least as long as that 
 which has been uniformly employed in the 
 practice of them. The public opinion of the 
 duke of Bedford's extreme economy is, it 
 seems, entirely without foundation. Though 
 not very prodigal abroad, in his own family, 
 at least, he is regular and magnificent. He 
 pays his debts, abhors a beggar, and makes a 
 handsome provision for his son. His charity 
 has improved upon the proverb, and ended 
 where it began. Admitting the whole force 
 of this single instance of his domestic gene- 
 rosity (wonderful indeed, considering the 
 narrowness of his fortune, and the little me- 
 rit of his only son), the public may still per- 
 haps be dissatisfied, and demand some other 
 less equivocal proofs of his munificence. Sir 
 William Draper should have entered boldly 
 into the detail of indigence relieved of 
 arts encouraged of science patronized; men 
 of learning protected, and works of genius 
 rewarded ; in short, had there been a single 
 instance, besides Mr. Rigby, of blushing me-
 
 2ig 
 
 rit brought forward by the duke, for the ser- 
 vice of the public, it should not have been 
 omitted. 
 
 I wish it were possible to establish my 
 inference with the same certainty on which 
 I believe the principle is founded. My con- 
 clusion, however, was not drawn from the 
 principle alone. I am not so unjust as to rea- 
 son from one crime to another; though I 
 think that, of all the vices, avarice is most 
 apt to taint and corrupt the heart. I com- 
 bined the known temper of the man with the 
 extravagant concessions made by the ambas- 
 sador ; and though I doubt not sufficient care 
 was taken to leave no document of any trea- 
 sonable negociation, I still maintain that the 
 conduct 1 of this minister carries with it an 
 internal and convincing evidence against him. 
 Sir William Draper seems not to know the 
 value or force of such a proof. He will not 
 permit us to judge of the motives of men by 
 the manifest tendency of their actions, nor by 
 the notorious character of their minds. He 
 calls for papers and witnesses with a trium-
 
 220 
 
 phant security, as if nothing could be true 
 but what could be proved in a court of jus- 
 tice. Yet a religious man might have remem- 
 bered, upon what foundation some truths, 
 most interesting to mankind, have been re- 
 ceived and established. If it were not for the 
 internal evidence which the purest of reli- 
 gions carries with it, what would have be- 
 come of his once well quoted decalogue, and 
 of the meekness of his Christianity ? 
 
 The generous warmth of his resentment 
 makes him confound the order of events. 
 He forgets that the insults and distresses 
 which the duke of Bedford has suffered, and 
 which sir William has lamented with many 
 delicate touches of the true pathetic, were 
 only recorded in my letter to his grace, not 
 occasioned by it. It was a simple, candid 
 narrative of facts; though, for aught I know, 
 it may carry with it something prophetic. 
 His grace undoubtedly has received several 
 ominous hints; and I think, in certain cir- 
 cumstances, a wise man would do well to 
 prepare himself for the event.
 
 221 
 
 But I have a charge of a heavier nature 
 against sir William Draper. He tells us that 
 the duke of Bedford is amenable to justice ; 
 that parliament is a high and solemn tribu- 
 nal ; and that, if guilty, he may be punished 
 by due course of law: and all this he says 
 with as much gravity as if he believed one 
 word of the matter. I hope, indeed, the day 
 of impeachments will arrive before this noble- 
 man escapes out of life; but to refer us to 
 that mode of proceeding now, with such a 
 ministry, and such a house of commons as 
 the present, what is it, but an indecent mock- 
 ery of the common sense of the nation ? I 
 think he might have contented himself with 
 defending the greatest enemy, without in- 
 sulting the distresses, of his country. 
 
 His concluding declaration of his opi- 
 nion, with respect to the present condition 
 of affairs, is too loose and undetermined to be 
 of any service to the public. How strange 
 is it that this gentleman should dedicate so 
 much time and argument to the defence of 
 worthless or indifferent characters, while he
 
 222 
 
 gives but seven solitary lines to the only 
 subject which can deserve his attention, or 
 do credit to his abilities. 
 
 J U N I U S.
 
 223 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 SIR, 20 October, 1/69. 
 
 I VERY sincerely applaud the spi- 
 rit with which a lady has paid the debt of 
 gratitude to her benefactor. Though I think 
 she has mistaken the point, she shews a vir- 
 tue which makes her respectable. The ques- 
 tion turned upon the personal generosity or 
 avarice of a man whose private fortune is 
 immense. The proofs of his munificence 
 must be drawn- from the uses to which he 
 has applied that fortune. I was not speaking 
 of a lord lieutenant of Ireland, but of a rich 
 English duke, whose wealth gave him the 
 means of doing as much good in this coun- 
 try as he derived from his power in another. 
 I am far from wishing to lessen the merit of
 
 224 
 
 this single benevolent action; perhaps it is 
 the more conspicuous from standing alone. 
 All I mean to say is, that it proves nothing in 
 the present argument. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 225 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 19 October, 1769. 
 
 I A M well assured that Junius will 
 never descend to a dispute with such a 'writer 
 as Modestus (whose letter appeared in the 
 Gazetteer of Monday), especially as the dis- 
 pute must be chiefly about words. Notwith- 
 standing the partiality of the public, it does 
 not appear that Junius values himself upon 
 any superior skill in composition, and I hope 
 his time will always be more usefully em- 
 ployed than in the trifling refinements of ver- 
 bal criticism. Modestus, however, shall have 
 no reason to triumph in the silence and mo- 
 deration of Junius. If he knew as much of 
 the propriety of language as I believe he does 
 of the facts in question, he would have been
 
 226 
 
 as cautious of attacking Junius upon his 
 composition, as he seems to be of entering 
 into the subject of it; yet, after all, the last 
 is the only article of any importance to the 
 public. 
 
 I do not wonder at the unremitted ran- 
 cour with which the duke of Bedford and 
 his adherents invariably speak of a nation 
 which we well know has been too much in- 
 jured to be easily forgiven. But why must 
 Junius be an Irishman ? The absurdity of his 
 writings betrays him. Waving all considera- 
 tion of the insult offered by Modestus to the 
 declared judgment of the people (they may 
 well bear this among the rest), let us follow 
 the several instances, and try whether the 
 charge be fairly supported. 
 
 First, then, the leaving a man to enjoy 
 such repose as he can find upon a bed of 
 torture^ is severe indeed ; perhaps too much 
 so when applied to such a trifler as sir Wil- 
 liam Draper: but there is nothing absurd 
 cither in the idea or expression. Modestus
 
 227 
 
 cannot distinguish between a sarcasm and a 
 contradiction. 
 
 2. I affirm with Junius, that it is the fre- 
 quency of the fact which alone can make us 
 comprehend how a man can be his own ene- 
 my. We should never arrive at the complex 
 idea conveyed by those words, if we had only 
 seen one or two instances of a man acting to 
 his own prejudice. Offer the proposition to 
 a child, or a man unused to compound his 
 ideas, and you will soon see how little either 
 of them understand you. It is not a simple 
 idea arising from a single fact, but a very 
 complex idea, arising from many facts well 
 observed, and accurately compared. 
 
 3. Modestus could not, without great 
 affectation, mistake the meaning of Junius 
 when he speaks of a man who is the bit- 
 terest enemy of his friends. He could not 
 but know that Junius spoke, not of a false 
 or hollow friendship, but of a real intention 
 to serve, and that intention producing the 
 worst effects of enmity. Whether the de-
 
 228 
 
 scription be strictly applicable to sir William 
 Draper is another question. Jimius does not 
 say that it is more criminal for a man to be 
 the enemy of his friends than his own, though 
 he might have affirmed it with truth. In a 
 moral light a man may certainly take greater 
 liberties with himself than with another. To 
 sacrifice ourselves merely is a weakness we 
 may indulge in if we think proper, for we do 
 it at our own hazard and expence ; but, un- 
 der the pretence of friendship, to sport with 
 the reputation, or sacrifice the honour of an- 
 other, is something worse than weakness; 
 and if, in favour of the foolish intention, we 
 do not call it a crime, we must allow at least 
 that it arises from an overweening, busy, 
 meddling impudence. Junius says only, and 
 he says truly, that it is more extraordinary, 
 that it involves a greater contradiction than 
 the other; and is it not a maxim received in 
 life, that in general we can determine more 
 wisely for others than for ourselves? The 
 reason of it is so clear in argument, that it 
 hardly wants the confirmation of experience. 
 Sir William Draper, I confess, is an excep-
 
 229 
 
 tion to the general rule, though not much to 
 his credit. 
 
 4. If this gentleman will go back to his 
 ethics,, he may perhaps discover the truth of 
 what Junius says, that no outward tyranny 
 can reach the mind. The tortures of the 
 body may be introduced, by way of orna- 
 ment or illustration, to represent those of the 
 mind, but strictly there is no similitude be- 
 tween them: they are totally different both 
 in their cause and operation. The wretch 
 who suffers upon the rack is merely passive ; 
 but when the mind is tortured, it is not at 
 the command of any outward power. It is 
 the sense of guilt which constitutes the pu- 
 nishment, and creates that torture with which 
 the guilty mind acts upon itself. 
 
 5. He misquotes what Junius says of con- 
 science, and makes the sentence ridiculous 
 by making it his own. 
 
 So much for composition. Now for fact.
 
 230 
 
 Junius it seems has mistaken the duke of 
 Bedford. His grace had all the proper feel- 
 ings of a father, though he took care to sup- 
 press the appearance of them. Yet it was an 
 occasion, one would think, on which he need 
 not have been ashamed of his grief; on 
 which less fortitude would have done him 
 more honour. I can conceive indeed a be- 
 nevolent motive for his endeavouring to as- 
 sume an air of tranquillity in his own family, 
 and I wish I could discover any thing in the- 
 rest of his character to justify my assigning 
 that motive to his behaviour. But is there 
 no medium? Was it necessary to appear 
 abroad, to ballot at the India house, and 
 make a public display, though it were only 
 of an apparent insensibility ? I know we are 
 treading on tender ground, and Junius, I am 
 convinced, does not wish to urge this ques- 
 tion farther. Let the friends of the duke of 
 Bedford observe that humble silence which 
 becomes their situation. They should re- 
 collect that there are still some facts in store 
 at which human nature would shudder. I
 
 231 
 
 shall be understood by those whom it con- 
 cerns, when I say that these facts go farther 
 than to the duke. ra 
 
 It is not inconsistent to suppose that a 
 man may be quite indifferent about one part 
 of a charge, yet severely stung with another; 
 and though he feels no remorse, that he may 
 wish to be revenged. The charge of insen- 
 sibility carries a reproach indeed, but no 
 danger with it. Junius had said there are 
 others who would assassinate. Modestus, 
 knowing his man, will not suffer the insinu- 
 ation to be divided, but fixes it all upon the 
 duke of Bedford. 
 
 Without determining upon what evidence 
 Junius would choose to be condemned, I will 
 venture to maintain, in opposition to Mo- 
 destus, or to Mr. Rigby (who is certainly not 
 Modestus), or any other of the Bloomsbury 
 gang, that the evidence against the duke of 
 Bedford is as strong as any presumptive evi- 
 dence can be. It depends upon a combina- 
 tion of facts and reasoning, which require no
 
 232 
 
 confirmation from the anecdote of the duke 
 of Marlborough. This anecdote was referred 
 to merely to shew how ready a great man 
 may be to receive a great bribe ; and if Mo- 
 destus could read the original, he would see 
 that the expression, only not accepted, was 
 probably the only one in our language that 
 exactly fitted the case. The bribe offered to 
 the duke of Marlborough was not refused. 
 
 I cannot conclude without taking notice 
 of this honest gentleman's learning, and wish- 
 ing he had giving us a little more of it. 
 When he accidentally found himself so near 
 speaking truth, it was rather unfair of him 
 to leave out the non potuisse refelli. As it 
 stands, the pudet haec opprobria may be di- 
 vided equally between Mr. Rigby and the 
 duke of Bedford. Mr. Rigby, I take for 
 granted, will assert his natural right to the 
 modesty of the quotation, and leave all the 
 opprobrium to his grace. 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 233 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 17 October, 1769. 
 
 IT is not wonderful that the great 
 cause in which this country is engaged, 
 should have roused and engrossed the whole 
 attention of the people. I rather admire the 
 generous spirit with which they feel and as- 
 sert their interest in this important question, 
 than blame them for their indifference about 
 any other. When the constitution is openly 
 invaded, when the first original right of the 
 people, from which all laws derive their au- 
 thority, is directly attacked, inferior griev- 
 ances naturally lose their force, and are suf- 
 fered to pass by without punishment or ob- 
 servation. The present ministry are as sin- 
 gularly marked by their fortune as by their
 
 234 
 
 crimes. Instead of atoning for their former 
 conduct by any wise or popular measure, 
 they have found, in the enormity of one fact, 
 a cover and defence for a series of measures 
 which must have been fatal to any other ad- 
 ministration. I fear we are too remiss in 
 observing the whole of their proceedings. 
 Struck with the principal figure, we do not 
 sufficiently mark in what manner the canvass 
 is filled up. Yet surely it is not a less crime, 
 nor less fatal in its consequences, to encou- 
 rage a flagrant breach of the law by a mi- 
 litary force, than to make use of the forms of 
 parliament to destroy the constitution. The 
 ministry seem determined to give us a choice 
 of difficulties, and, if possible, to perplex us 
 with the multitude of their offences. The 
 expedient is worthy of the duke of Grafton. 
 But though he has preserved a gradation and 
 variety in his measures, we should remember 
 that the principle is uniform. Dictated by 
 the same spirit, they deserve the same atten- 
 tion. The following fact, though of the most 
 alarming nature, has not yet been clearly 
 stated to the public, nor have the conse-
 
 235 
 
 quences of it been sufficiently understood. 
 Had I taken it up at an earlier period, I 
 should have been accused of an uncandid, 
 malignant precipitation, as if I watched for 
 an unfair advantage against the ministry, and 
 would not allow them a reasonable time to 
 do their duty. They now stand without ex- 
 cuse. Instead of employing the leisure they 
 have had in a strict examination of the of- 
 fence, and punishing the offenders, they seem 
 to have considered that indulgence as a se- 
 curity to them, that, with a little time and 
 management, the whole affair might be bu- 
 ried in silence, and utterly forgotten. 
 
 A major general 11 of the army is arrested 
 by the sheriffs officers for a considerable debt. 
 He persuades them to conduct him to the 
 Tilt-yard in St. James's park, under some 
 pretence of business, which it imported him 
 to settle before he was confined. He applies 
 to a serjeant, not immediately on duty, to 
 assist with some of his companions in fa- 
 vouring his escape. He attempts it. A bus- 
 tle ensues. The bailiffs claim their prisoner.
 
 23(3 
 
 An officer of the guards, not then on duty, 
 takes part in the affair, applies to the lieu- 
 tenant P commanding the Tilt-yard guard, 
 and urges him to turn out his guard to re- 
 lieve a general officer. The lieutenant de- 
 clines interfering in person, but stands at a 
 distance, and suffers the business to be done. 
 The officer takes upon himself to order out 
 the guard. In a moment they are in arms, 
 quit their guard, march, rescue the general, 
 and drive away the sheriffs officers, who in 
 vain represent their right to the prisoner, 
 and the nature of the arrest. The soldiers 
 first conduct the general into the guard-room, 
 then escort him to a place of safety, with 
 bayonets fixed, and in all the forms of mi- 
 litary triumph. I will not enlarge upon the 
 various circumstances which attended this 
 atrocious proceeding. The personal injury 
 received by the officers of the law in the exe- 
 cution of their duty, may perhaps be atoned 
 for by some private compensation. I consider 
 nothing but the wound which has been given 
 to the law itself, to which no remedy has been 
 applied, no satisfaction made. Neither is it
 
 237 
 
 my design to dwell upon the misconduct of 
 the parties concerned, any farther than is 
 necessary to shew the behaviour of the mi- 
 nistry in its true light. I would make every 
 compassionate allowance for the infatuation 
 of the prisoner, the false and criminal dis- 
 cretion of one officer, and the madness of 
 another. I would leave the ignorant soldiers 
 entirely out of the question. They are cer- 
 tainly the least guilty, though they are the 
 only persons who have yet suffered, even in 
 the appearance of punishment. ^ The fact 
 itself, however atrocious, is not the principal 
 point to be considered. It might have hap- 
 pened under a more regular government, and 
 with guards better disciplined than ours. 
 The main question is, in what manner have 
 the ministry acted on this extraordinary oc- 
 casion. A general officer calls upon the king's 
 own guard, then actually on duty, to rescue 
 him from the laws of his country; yet at this 
 moment he is in a situation no worse than if 
 he had not committed an offence equally 
 enormous in a civil and military view. A 
 lieutenant upon duty designedly quits his
 
 238 
 
 guard, and suffers it to be drawn out by an- 
 other officer, for a purpose which he well 
 knew (as we may collect from an appearance 
 of caution, which only makes his behaviour 
 the more criminal) to be in the highest de- 
 gree illegal. Has this gentleman been called 
 to a court martial to answer for his conduct ? 
 No. Has it been censured? No. Has it 
 been in any shape inquired into? No. 
 Another lieutenant, not upon duty, nor even 
 in his regimentals, is daring enough to order 
 out the king's guard, over which he had pro- 
 perly no command, and engages them in a 
 violation of the laws of his country, perhaps 
 the most singular and extravagant that ever 
 was attempted. What punishment has he suf- 
 fered ? Literally none. Supposing he should 
 be prosecuted at common law for the rescue, 
 will that circumstance, from which the mi- 
 nistry can derive no merit, excuse or justify 
 their suffering so flagrant a breach of military 
 discipline to pass by unpunished, and un- 
 noticed? Are they aware of the outrage of- 
 fered to their sovereign when his own proper 
 guard is ordered out to stop by main force
 
 239 
 
 the execution of his laws ? What are we to 
 conclude from so scandalous a neglect of 
 their duty, but that they have other views, 
 which can only be answered by securing the 
 attachment of the guards? The minister 
 would hardly be so cautious of offending 
 them, if he did not mean, in due time, to call 
 for their assistance. 
 
 With respect to the parties themselves, 
 let it be observed, that these gentlemen are 
 neither young officers, nor very young men. 
 Had they belonged to the unfledged race of 
 ensigns who infest our streets, and dishonour 
 our public places, it might perhaps be suf- 
 ficient to send them back to that discipline 
 from which their parents, judging lightly 
 from the maturity of their vices, had removed 
 them too soon. In this case, I am sorry to 
 see, not so much the folly of youths as the 
 spirit of the corps, and the connivance of 
 government. I do not question that there 
 are many brave and worthy officers in the 
 regiments of guards. But, considering them 
 as a corps, I fear it will be found that they
 
 240 
 
 are neither good soldiers, nor good subjects. 
 Far be it from me to insinuate the most dis- 
 tant reflection upon the army. On the con- 
 trary, I honour and esteem the profession; 
 and if these gentlemen were better soldiers, 
 I am sure they would be better subjects. It 
 is not that there is any internal vice or defect 
 in the profession itself, as regulated in this 
 country, but that it is the spirit of this par- 
 ticular corps to despise their profession, and 
 that while they vainly assume the lead of the 
 army, they make it matter of impertinent 
 comparison and triumph over the bravest 
 troops in the world (I mean our marching 
 regiments), that they indeed stand upon high- 
 er ground, and are privileged to neglect the 
 laborious forms of military discipline and 
 duty. Without dwelling longer upon a most 
 invidious subject, I shall leave it to military 
 men, who have seen a service more active 
 than the parade, to determine whether or no 
 I speak truth. 
 
 How far this dangerous spirit has been 
 encouraged by government, and to what per-
 
 241 
 
 nicious purposes it may be applied hereafter, 
 well deserves our most serious consideration. 
 I know indeed, that when this affair hap- 
 pened, an affectation of alarm ran through 
 the ministry. Something must be done to 
 save appearances. The case was too flagrant 
 to be passed by absolutely without notice. 
 But how have they acted ? Instead of order- 
 ing the officers concerned (and who, strictly 
 speaking, are alone guilty) to be put under 
 arrest and brought to trial, they would have 
 it understood, that they did their duty com- 
 pletely in confining a Serjeant and four pri- 
 vate soldiers until they should be demanded 
 by the civil power; so that while the officers, 
 who ordered or permitted the thing to be 
 done, escape without censure, the poor men 
 who obeyed those orders, who in a military 
 view are no way responsible for what they 
 did, and who for that reason have been dis- 
 charged by the civil magistrates, are the only 
 objects whom the ministry have thought pro- 
 per to expose to punishment. They did not 
 venture to bring even these men to a court 
 martial, because they knew their evidence
 
 242 
 
 would be fatal to some persons whom they 
 were determined to protect. Otherwise, I 
 doubt 'not, the lives of these unhappy friend- 
 less soldiers would long since have been sa- 
 crificed without scruple to the security of 
 their guilty officers. 
 
 I have been accused of endeavouring to 
 enflame the passions of the people. Let me 
 now appeal to their understanding. If there 
 be any tool of administration daring enough 
 to deny these facts, or shameless enough to 
 defend the conduct of the ministry, let him 
 come forward. I care not under what title 
 he appears. He shall find me ready to main- 
 tain the truth of my narrative, and the justice 
 of my observations upon it, at the hazard of 
 my utmost credit with the public. 
 
 
 Under the most arbitrary governments the 
 common administration of justice is suffered 
 to take its course. The subject, though rob- 
 bed of his share in the legislature, is still 
 protected by the laws. The political freedom 
 of the English constitution was once the pride
 
 243 
 
 and honour of an Englishman. The civil 
 equality of the laws preserved the property, 
 and defended the safety of the subject. Are 
 these glorious privileges the birthright of the 
 people, or are we only tenants at the will of 
 the ministry ? But that I know there is a spi- 
 rit of resistance in the hearts of my country- 
 men, that they value life, not by its conve- 
 niences, but by the independence and dignity 
 of their condition, I should, at this moment, 
 appeal only to their discretion. I should 
 persuade them to banish from their minds 
 all memory of what we were ; I should tell 
 them this is not a time to remember that we 
 were Englishmen ; and give it as my last ad- 
 vice, to make some early agreement with the 
 minister, that since it has pleased him to rob 
 us of those political rights' which once dis- 
 tinguished the inhabitants of a country where 
 honour was happiness, he would -leave us at 
 least the humble, obedient security of citi- 
 zens, and graciously condescend to protect 
 us in our submission. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 244 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 Sl Rf 14 November, 1/69. 
 
 THE variety of remarks which have 
 been made upon the last letter of Junius, and 
 my own opinion of the writer, who, whatever 
 may be his faults, is certainly not a weak 
 man, have induced me to examine, with some 
 attention, the subject of that letter. I could 
 not persuade myself that, while he had plenty 
 of important materials, he would have taken 
 up a light or trifling occasion to attack the 
 ministry; much less could I conceive that it 
 was his intention to ruin the officers con- 
 cerned in the rescue of general Gansel, or to 
 injure the general himself. These are little 
 objects, and can no way contribute to the 
 great purposes he seems to have in view by
 
 245 
 
 addressing himself to the public. Without 
 considering the ornamented style he has 
 adopted, I determined to look farther into 
 the matter before I decided upon the merits 
 of his letter. The first step I took was to 
 inquire into the truth of the facts; for if these 
 were either false or misrepresented, the most 
 artful exertion of his understanding in reason- 
 ing upon them would only be a disgrace to 
 him. Now, sir, I have found every circum- 
 stance stated by Junius to be literally true. 
 General Gansel persuaded the bailiffs to con- 
 duct him to the parade, and certainly soli- 
 cited a corporal and other soldiers to assist 
 him in making his escape. Captain Dodd 
 did certainly apply to captain Garth for the 
 assistance of his guard. Captain Garth de- 
 clined appearing himself, but stood aloof, 
 while the other took upon him to order out 
 the king's guard, and by main force rescued 
 the general. It is also strictly true, that the 
 general was escorted by a file of musqueteers 
 to a place of security. These are facts, Mr. 
 Woodfall, which I promise you no gentle- 
 man in the guards will deny. If all or any
 
 240 
 
 of them arc false, why are they not contra- 
 dicted by the parties themselves? However 
 secure against military censure, they have 
 yet a character to lose, and surely, if they are 
 innocent, it is not beneath them to pay some 
 attention to the opinion of the public. 
 
 The force of Junius's observations upon 
 these facts cannot be better marked than by 
 stating and refuting the objections which 
 have been made to them. One writer says, 
 ' Admitting the officers have offended, they 
 f are punishable at common law, and will 
 ' you have a British subject punished twice 
 ' for the same offence ?' I answer, that they 
 have committed two offences, both very enor- 
 mous, and violated two laws. The rescue is 
 one offence, the flagrant breach of discipline 
 another; and hitherto it does not appear that 
 they have been punished, or even censured, 
 for either. Another gentleman lays much 
 stress upon the calamity of the case, and, 
 instead of disproving facts, appeals at once 
 to the compassion of the public. This idea, 
 as well as the insinuation, that depriving the
 
 247 
 
 parties of their commissions would be an in- 
 jury to their creditors, can only refer to ge- 
 neral Gansel. The other officers are in no 
 distress, therefore have no claim to compas- 
 sion, nor does it appear that their creditors, 
 if they have any, are more likely to be satis- 
 fied by their continuing in the guards. But 
 this sort of plea will not hold in any shape. 
 Compassion to an offender who has grossly 
 violated the laws, is in effect a cruelty to the 
 peaceable subject who has observed them; 
 and, even admitting the force of any alle- 
 viating circumstances, it is nevertheless true, 
 that in this instance the royal compassion 
 has interposed too soon. The legal and pro- 
 per mercy of a king of England may remit 
 the punishment, but ought not to stop the 
 trial. 
 
 Besides these particular objections, there 
 has been a cry raised against Junius for his 
 malice and injustice in attacking the minis- 
 try upon an event which they could neither 
 hinder nor foresee. This, I must affirm, is 
 a false representation of his argument. He
 
 248 
 
 lays no stress upon the event itself, as a 
 ground of accusation against the ministry, 
 but dwells entirely upon their subsequent 
 conduct. He does not say that they are an- 
 swerable for the offence, but for the scanda- 
 lous neglect of their duty, in suffering an 
 offence so flagrant to pass by without notice 
 or inquiry. Supposing them ever so regard- 
 less of what they owe to the public, arid as 
 indifferent about the opinion as they are 
 about the interests of their country, what 
 answer, as officers of the crown, will they 
 give to Junius when he asks them, Are they 
 aware of the outrage offered to their sove- 
 reign when his own proper guard is ordered 
 out to stop by main force the execution of his 
 laws? And when we see a ministry giving 
 such a strange unaccountable protection to 
 the officers of the guards, is it unfair to sus- 
 pect that they have some secret and unwar- 
 rantable motives for their conduct? If they 
 feel themselves injured by such a suspicion, 
 why do they not immediately clear them- 
 selves from it by doing their duty ? For the 
 honour of the guards, I cannot help express-
 
 249 
 
 ing another suspicion, that if the command- 
 ing officer had not received a secret injunc- 
 tion to the contrary, he would, in the ordi- 
 nary course of his business, have applied for 
 a court martial to try the* two subalterns ; the 
 one for quitting his guard, the other for 
 taking upon him the command of the guard, 
 and employing it in the manner he did. I 
 do not mean to enter into or defend the se- 
 verity with which Junius treats the guards. 
 On the contrary, I will suppose for a mo- 
 ment that they deserve a very different cha- 
 racter. If this be true, in what light will 
 they consider the conduct of the two subal- 
 terns but as a general reproach and disgrace 
 to the whole corps ? And will they not wish 
 to see them censured in a military way, if it 
 were only for the credit and discipline of the 
 regiment ? 
 
 Upon the whole, sir, the ministry seem 
 to me to have taken a very improper advan- 
 tage of the good-nature of the public, whose 
 humanity, they found, considered nothing in 
 this affair but the distress of general Gansel.
 
 250 
 
 They would persuade us that it was only a 
 common rescue by a few disorderly soldiers, 
 and not the formal deliberate act of the king's 
 guard, headed by an officer; and the public 
 has fallen into the deception. I think, there- 
 fore, we are obliged to Junius for the care he 
 has taken to inquire into the facts, and for 
 the just commentary with which he has given 
 them to the world. For my own part, I am 
 as unwilling as any man to load the unfortu- 
 nate ; but really, sir, the precedent with re- 
 spect to the guards is of a most important 
 nature, and alarming enough (considering 
 the consequences with which it may be at- 
 tended) to deserve a parliament inquiry: 
 when the guards are daring enough, not only 
 to violate their own discipline, but publicly, 
 and with the most atrocious violence, to stop 
 the execution of the laws, and when such ex- 
 traordinary offences pass with impunity, be- 
 lieve, me, sir, the precedent strikes deep. 
 
 PHILO JUNIUS.
 
 251 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 SIR, 15 November, 1769. 
 
 I ADMIT the claim of a gentleman 
 who publishes in the Gazetteer under the 
 name of Modestus. He has some right to 
 expect an answer from me : though, I think, 
 not so much from the merit or importance of 
 his objections, as from my own voluntary 
 engagement. I had a reason for not taking 
 notice of him sooner, which, as he is a can- 
 did person, I believe he will think sufficient. 
 In my first letter I took for granted, from the 
 time which had elapsed, that there was no 
 intention to censure, nor even to try the per- 
 sons concerned in the rescue of general Gan- 
 sel ; but Modestus having since either affirm- 
 ed, or strongly insinuated, that the offenders
 
 252 
 
 might still be brought to a legal trial, any 
 attempt to prejudge the cause, or to prejudice 
 the minds of a jury, or a court martial, would 
 he highly improper. 
 
 A man more hostile to the ministry than 
 I am, would not so often remind them of 
 their duty. If the duke of Grafton will not 
 perform the duty of his station, why is he 
 minister ? I will not descend to a scurrilous 
 altercation with any man ; but this is a sub- 
 ject too important to be passed over with 
 silent indifference. If the gentlemen whose 
 conduct is in question are not brought to a 
 trial, the duke of Grafton shall hear from me 
 again. 
 
 The motives on which I am supposed to 
 have taken up this cause are of little impor- 
 tance, compared with the facts themselves, 
 and the observations I have made upon them. 
 Without a vain profession of integrity, which 
 in these times might justly be suspected, I 
 shall shew myself in effect a friend to the in- 
 terests of my countrymen, and leave it to
 
 253 
 
 them to determine, whether I am moved by 
 a personal malevolence to three private gen- 
 tlemen, or merely by a hope of perplexing 
 the ministry ; or whether I am animated by 
 a just and honourable purpose of obtaining 
 a satisfaction to the laws of this country, 
 equal, if possible, to the violation they have 
 suffered. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 254 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 
 MY LORD, 2p November, 1769. 
 
 THOUGH my opinion of your 
 grace's integrity was but little affected by 
 the coyness with which you received Mr. 
 Vaughan's proposals, I confess I give you 
 some credit for your discretion. You had a 
 fair opportunity of displaying a certain deli- 
 cacy, of which you had not been suspected ; 
 and you were in the right to make use of it. 
 By laying in a moderate stock of reputation, 
 you undoubtedly meant to provide for the 
 future necessities of your character, that with 
 an honourable resistance upon record, you 
 might safely indulge your genius, and yield 
 to a favourite inclination with security. But 
 yoii have discovered your purposes too soon;
 
 255 
 
 and, instead of the modest reserve of virtue, 
 have shewn us the termagant chastity of a 
 prude, who gratifies her passions with dis- 
 tinction ; and prosecutes one lover for a rape, 
 while she solicits the lewd embraces of an- 
 other. 
 
 Your cheek turns pale ; for a guilty con- 
 science tells you, you are undone. Come 
 forward, thou virtuous minister, and tell the 
 world by what interest Mr. Hine has been 
 recommended to so extraordinary a mark of 
 his majesty's favour; what was the price of 
 the patent he has bought, and to what ho- 
 nourable purpose the purchase-money has 
 been applied. Nothing less than many thou- 
 sands could pay colonel Burgoyne's expences 
 at Preston. Do you dare to prosecute such a 
 creature as Vaughan, while you are basely 
 setting up the royal patronage to auction? 
 Do you dare to complain of an attack upon 
 your own honour, while you are selling the 
 favours of the crown to raise a fund for cor- 
 rupting the morals of the people? And do 
 you think it possible such enormities should
 
 256 
 
 escape without impeachment? It is indeed 
 highly your interest to maintain the present 
 house of commons. Having sold the nation 
 to you in gross, they will undoubtedly pro- 
 tect you in the detail; for while they pa- 
 tronize your crimes, they feel for their own. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 257 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GEACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 MY LORD, 12 December, 1769. 
 
 I FIND, with some surprise, 
 that you are not supported as you deserve. 
 Your most determined advocates have scru- 
 ples about them which you are unacquainted 
 with ; and, though there be nothing too ha- 
 zardous for your grace to engage in, there 
 are some things too infamous for the vilest 
 prostitute of a newspaper to defend. 5 In 
 what other manner shall we account for the 
 profound, submissive silence which you and 
 your friends have observed upon a charge 
 which called immediately for the clearest 
 refutation, and would have justified the se- 
 verest measures of resentment ? I did not at- 
 tempt to blast your character by an indirect, 
 I S
 
 258 
 
 ambiguous insinuation, but candidly stated 
 to you a plain fact, which struck directly at 
 the integrity of a privy counsellor, of a first 
 commissioner of the treasury, and of a lead- 
 ing minister, who is supposed to enjoy the 
 first share in his majesty's confidence. 11 In 
 every one of these capacities I employed the 
 most moderate terms to charge you with 
 treachery to your sovereign, and breach of 
 trust in your office. I accused you of hav- 
 ing sold a patent place, in the collection of 
 the customs at Exeter, to one Mr. Hine, who, 
 unable or unwilling to deposit the whole pur- 
 chase-money himself, raised part of it by 
 contribution, and has now a certain doctor 
 Brooke quartered upon the salary for one 
 hundred pounds a year. No sale by the can- 
 dle was ever conducted with greater formality. 
 I affirm that the price at which the place was 
 knocked down (and which I have good rea- 
 son to think was not less than three thousand 
 five hundred pounds) was, with your con- 
 nivance and consent, paid to colonel Bur- 
 goyne, to reward him, I presume, for the 
 decency of his deportment at Preston ; or to
 
 25Q 
 
 reimburse him, perhaps, for the fine of one 
 thousand pounds which, for that very de-: 
 portment, the court of king's bench thought 
 proper to set upon him. It is not often that 
 the chief justice and the prime minister are 
 so strangely at variance in their opinions of 
 men and things. 
 
 I thank God there is not in human nature 
 a degree of impudence daring enough to 
 deny the charge I have fixed upon you. Your 
 courteous secretary, 11 your confidential archi- 
 tect/ are silent as the grave. Even Mr, 
 Rigby's countenance fails him. He violates 
 his second nature, and blushes whenever he 
 speaks of you. Perhaps the noble colonel 
 himself will relieve you. No man is more 
 tender of his reputation. He is not only 
 nice, but perfectly sore in every thing that 
 touches his honour. If any man, for exam- 
 ple, were to accuse him of taking his stand 
 at a gaming-table, and watching, with the 
 soberest attention, for a fair opportunity of 
 engaging a drunken young nobleman at 
 piquet, he would undoubtedly consider it as
 
 260 
 
 an infamous aspersion upon his character, and 
 resent it like a man of honour. Acquitting 
 him therefore of drawing a regular and 
 splendid subsistence from any unworthy prac- 
 tices, either in his own house or elsewhere, 
 let me ask your grace, for what military me- 
 rits you have been pleased to reward him with 
 military government ? He had a regiment of 
 dragoons, which, one would imagine, was at 
 least an equivalent for any services he ever 
 performed. Besides, he is but a young of- 
 ficer considering his preferment, and, except 
 in his activity at Preston, not very conspi- 
 cuous in his profession. But, it seems, the 
 sale of a civil employment was not sufficient, 
 and military governments, which were in- 
 tended for the support of worn-out veterans, 
 must be thrown into the scale, to defray the 
 extensive bribery of a contested election. 
 Are these the steps you take to secure to 
 your sovereign the attachment of his army ? 
 With what countenance dare you appear in 
 the royal presence, branded as you are with 
 the infamy of a notorious breach of trust? 
 With what countenance can you take your
 
 261 
 
 seat at the treasttry-board or in council, when 
 you feel that every circulating whisper is at 
 your expence alone, and stabs you to the 
 heart? Have you a single friend in parlia- 
 ment so shameless, so thoroughly abandoned, 
 as to undertake your defence? You know, 
 my lord, that there is not a man in either 
 house whose character, however flagitious, 
 would not be ruined by mixing his reputa- 
 tion with yours; and does not your heart 
 inform you, that you are degraded below the 
 condition of a man when you are obliged to 
 hear these insults with submission, and even 
 to thank me for my moderation ? 
 
 We are told by the highest judicial au- 
 thority, that Mr.Vaughan's offer to purchase 
 the reversion of a patent in Jamaica (which 
 he was otherwise sufficiently entitled to) 
 amounted to a high misdemeanour. Be it so : 
 and if he deserves it, let him be punished. 
 But the learned judge might have had a 
 fairer opportunity of displaying the powers 
 of his eloquence. Having delivered himself 
 with so much energy upon the criminal na-
 
 262 
 
 ture, and dangerous consequences of any at- 
 tempt to corrupt a man in your grace's sta- 
 tion, what would he have said to the minister 
 himself, to that very privy counsellor, to that 
 first commissioner of the treasmy, who does 
 not wait for, but impatiently solicits, the 
 touch of corruption ; who employs the mean- 
 est of his creatures in these honourable ser- 
 vices, and, forgetting the genius arid fidelity 
 of his secretary, descends to apply to his 
 house-builder for assistance ? 
 
 This affair, my lord, will do infinite cre- 
 dit to government, if, to clear your character, 
 you should think proper to bring it into the 
 house of lords, or into the court of King's 
 Bench. But, my lord, you dare not do 
 either. 
 
 J U N I U S.
 
 203 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. 
 
 10 December, 1769. 
 
 WHEN the complaints of a brave and power- 
 ful people are observed to increase in pro- 
 portion to the wrongs they have suffered ; 
 when, instead of sinking into submission, 
 they are roused to resistance, the time will 
 soon arrive at which every inferior consi- 
 deration must yield to the security of the 
 sovereign, and to the general safety of the 
 state. There is a moment of difficulty and 
 danger at which flattery and falsehood can 
 no longer deceive, and simplicity itself can 
 no longer be misled. Let us suppose it 
 arrived. Let us suppose a gracious well- 
 intentioned prince, made sensible at last of 
 the great duty he owes to his people, and 
 of his own disgraceful situation; that he
 
 264 
 
 looks round him for assistance, and asks 
 for no advice, but how to gratify the wishes 
 and secure the happiness of his subjects. 
 In these circurn stances, it may be matter 
 of curious speculation to consider, if an 
 honest man were permitted to approach a 
 king, in what terms he would address him- 
 self to his sovereign. Let it be imagined, 
 no matter how improbable, that the first 
 prejudice against his character is removed, 
 that the ceremonious difficulties of an au- 
 dience are surmounted, that he feels him- 
 self animated by the purest and most ho- 
 nourable affections to his king and country, 
 and that the great person whom he ad- 
 dresses has spirit enough to bid him speak 
 freely, and understanding enough to listen 
 to him with attention. Unacquainted with 
 the vain impertinence of forms, he would 
 deliver his sentiments with dignity and 
 firmness, but not without respect. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 IT is the misfortune of your life, 
 and originally the cause of every reproach
 
 GEORGE m. 
 
 KING of GREAT 'Mm TAIN \
 
 265 
 
 and distress which has attended your govern- 
 ment, that you should never have been ac- 
 quainted with the language of truth until 
 you heard it in the complaints of your peo- 
 ple. It is not however too late to correct the 
 error of your education. We are still in- 
 clined to make an indulgent allowance for 
 the pernicious lessons you received in your 
 youth, and to form the most sanguine hopes 
 from the natural benevolence of your dispo- 
 sition. r We are far from thinking you ca- 
 pable of a direct deliberate purpose to invade 
 those original rights of your subjects, on 
 which all their civil and political liberties 
 depend. Had it been possible for us to en- 
 tertain a suspicion so dishonourable to your 
 character, we should long since have adopt- 
 ed a style of remonstrance very distant from 
 the humility of complaint. The doctrine in- 
 culcated by our laws, That the king can do 
 no wrong, is admitted without reluctance. 
 We separate the amiable, good-natured prince 
 from the folly and treachery of his servants, 
 and the private virtues of the man from the 
 vices of his government. Were it not for this
 
 266 
 
 just distinction, I know not whether your 
 majesty's condition, or that of the English 
 nation, would deserve most to be lamented. 
 I would prepare your mind for a favourable 
 reception of truth, by removing every painful 
 offensive idea of personal reproach. Your 
 subjects, sir, wish for nothing but that, as 
 they are reasonable and affectionate enough 
 to separate your person from your govern- 
 ment, so you, in your turn, should distin- 
 guish between the conduct which becomes 
 the permanent dignity of a king, and that 
 which serves only to promote the temporary 
 interest and miserable ambition of a minis- 
 ter. 
 
 You ascended the throne with a declared, 
 and, I doubt not a sincere, resolution of giv- 
 ing universal satisfaction to your subjects. 
 You found them pleased with the novelty of 
 a young prince, whose countenance promised 
 even more than his words, and loyal to you 
 not only from principle but passion. It was 
 not a cold profession of allegiance to the first 
 magistrate, but a partial animated attachment
 
 2(3; 
 
 to a favourite prince, the native of their 
 country. They did not wait to examine your 
 conduct, nor to be determined by experience, 
 but gave you a generous credit for the future 
 blessings of your reign, and paid you in ad- 
 vance the dearest tribute of their affections. 
 Such, sir, was once the disposition of a peo- 
 ple who now surround your throne with re- 
 proaches and complaints. Do justice to your- 
 self. Banish from your mind those unworthy 
 opinions with which some interested persons 
 have laboured to possess you. Distrust the 
 men who tell you that the English are na- 
 turally light and inconstant ; that they com- 
 plain without a cause. Withdraw your con- 
 fidence equally from all parties: from minis- 
 ters, favourites, and relations; and let there 
 be one moment in your life in which you 
 have consulted your own understanding. 
 
 When you affectedly renounced the name 
 of Englishman, believe me, sir, you were 
 persuaded to pay a very ill-judged compli- 
 ment to one part of your subjects, at the ex- 
 pence of another. While the natives of Scot-
 
 268 
 
 land are not in actual rebellion, they are 
 undoubtedly entitled to protection ; nor do I 
 mean to condemn the policy of giving some 
 encouragement to the novelty of their affec- 
 tions for the house of Hanover. I am ready 
 to hope for every thing from their new-born 
 zeal, and from the future steadiness of their 
 allegiance. But hitherto they have no claim 
 to your favour. To honour them with a de- 
 termined predilection and confidence in ex- 
 clusion of your English subjects, who placed 
 your family, and, in spite of treachery and 
 rebellion, have supported it upon the throne. 
 is a mistake too gross even for the unsuspect- 
 ing generosity of youth. In this error we 
 see a capital violation of the most obvious 
 rules of policy and prudence. We trace it. 
 however, to an original bias in your educa- 
 tion, and are ready to allow for your inexpe- 
 rience. 
 
 To the same early influence we attribute 
 it, that you have descended to take a share 
 not only in the narrow views and interests of 
 particular persons, but in the fatal malignity
 
 of their passions. At your accession to the 
 throne the whole system of government was 
 altered, not from wisdom or deliberation, but 
 because it had been adopted by your pre- 
 decessor. A little personal motive of pique 
 and resentment was sufficient to remove the 
 ablest servants of the crown; 2 but it is not 
 in this country, sir, that such men can be 
 dishonoured by the frowns of a king. They 
 were dismissed, but could not be disgraced. 
 Without entering into a minuter discussion 
 of the merits of the peace, we may observe, 
 in the imprudent hurry with which the first 
 overtures from France were accepted, in the 
 conduct of the negociation, and terms of the 
 treaty, the strongest marks of that precipitate 
 spirit of concession with which a certain part 
 of your subjects have been at all times ready 
 to purchase a peace with the natural enemies 
 of this country. On your part we are satis- 
 fied that every thing was honourable and 
 sincere, and if England was sold to France, 
 we doubt not that your majesty was equally 
 betrayed. The conditions of the peace were 
 matter of grief and surprise to your subjects,
 
 but not the immediate cause of their present 
 discontent. 
 
 Hitherto, sir, you had been sacrificed to 
 the prejudices and passions of others. With 
 what firmness will you bear the mention of 
 your own ? 
 
 A man not very honourably distinguished 
 in the world, commences a formal attack 
 upon your favourite, considering nothing but 
 how he might best expose his person and 
 principles to detestation,, and the national 
 character of his countrymen to contempt. 
 The natives of that country, sir, are as much 
 distinguished by a peculiar character as by 
 your majesty's favour. Like another chosen 
 people, they have been conducted into the 
 land of plenty, where they find themselves 
 effectually marked and divided from man- 
 kind. There is hardly a period at which the 
 most irregular character may not be redeem- 
 ed. The mistake of one sex find a retreat in 
 patriotism; those of the other in devotion. 
 Mr. Wilkes brought with him into politics
 
 2/1 
 
 the same liberal sentiments by which his 
 private conduct had been directed, and seem- 
 ed to think, that as there are few excesses in 
 which an English gentleman may not be 
 permitted to indulge, the same latitude was 
 allowed him in the choice of his political 
 principles, and in the spirit of maintaining 
 them. I mean to state, not entirely to de- 
 fend, his conduct. In the earnestness of his 
 zeal, he suffered some unwarrantable insinu- 
 ations to escape him. He said more than 
 moderate men would justify ; but not enough 
 to entitle him to the honour of your ma- 
 jesty's personal resentment. The rays of royal 
 indignation collected upon him, served only 
 to illuminate, and could not consume. Ani- 
 mated by the favour of the people on one 
 side, and heated by persecution on the other, 
 his views and sentiments changed with his 
 situation. Hardly serious at first, he is now 
 an enthusiast. The coldest bodies warm with 
 opposition, the hardest sparkle in collision. 
 There is a holy mistaken zeal in politics as 
 well as religion. By persuading others we 
 convince ourselves. The passions are en-
 
 272 
 
 gaged, and create a maternal affection in the 
 mind, which forces us to love the cause for 
 which we surfer. Is this a contention worthy 
 of a king ? Are you not sensible how much 
 the meanness of the cause gives an air of ri- 
 dicule to the serious difficulties into which 
 you have been betrayed ? The destruction of 
 one man has been, now for many years, the 
 sole object of your government; and if there 
 can be any thing still more disgraceful, we 
 have seen for such an object the utmost in- 
 fluence of the executive power, and every 
 ministerial artifice, exerted without success. 
 Nor can you ever succeed, unless he* should 
 be imprudent enough to forfeit the protection 
 of those laws to which you owe your crown, 
 or unless your ministers should persuade you 
 to make it a question of force alone, and try 
 the whole strength of government in oppo- 
 sition to the people. The lessons he has re- 
 ceived from experience will probably guard 
 him from such excess of folly ; and in your 
 majesty's virtues we find an unquestionable 
 assurance that no illegal violence will be at- 
 tempted.
 
 273 
 
 Far from suspecting you of so horrible a 
 design, we would attribute the continued 
 violation of the laws, and even this last enor- 
 mous attack upon the vital principles of the 
 constitution, to an ill-advised, unworthy, 
 personal resentment. From one false step 
 you have been betrayed into another, and as 
 the cause was unworthy of you, your minis- 
 ters were determined that the prudence of 
 the execution should correspond with the 
 wisdom and dignity of the design. They 
 have reduced you to the necessity of choos- 
 ing out of a variety of difficulties ; to a si- 
 tuation so unhappy, that you can neither do 
 wrong without ruin, nor right without af- 
 fliction. These worthy servants have un- 
 doubtedly given you many singular proofs of 
 their abilities. Not contented with making 
 Mr. Wilkes a man of importance, they have 
 judiciously transferred the question from the 
 rights and interests of one man, to the most 
 important rights and interests of the people, 
 and forced your subjects, from wishing well 
 to the cause of an individual, to unite witk 
 him in their own. Let them proceed as
 
 274 
 
 they have begun, and your majesty need not 
 doubt that the catastrophe will do no dis- 
 honour to the conduct of the piece. 
 
 The circumstances to which you are re- 
 duced will not admit of a compromise with 
 the English nation. Undecisive qualify- 
 ing measures will disgrace your government 
 still more than open violence, and, without 
 satisfying the people, will excite their con- 
 tempt. They have too much understanding 
 and spirit to accept of an indirect satisfaction 
 for a direct injury. Nothing less than a 
 repeal, as formal as the resolution itself, can 
 heal the wound which has been given to the 
 constitution, nor will any thing less be ac- 
 cepted. I can readily believe that there is 
 an influence sufficient to recall that perni- 
 cious vote. The house of commons un- 
 doubtedly consider their duty to the crown 
 as a paramount to all other obligations. To 
 us they are only indebted for an accidental 
 existence, and have justly transferred their 
 gratitude from their parents to their benefac- 
 tors ; from those who gave them birth to the
 
 2/5 
 
 minister, from whose benevolence they de- 
 rive the comforts and pleasures of their poli- 
 tical life; who has taken the tenderest care 
 of their infancy, and relieves their necessities 
 without offending their delicacy. But if it 
 were possible for their integrity to be de- 
 graded to a condition so vile and abject, that, 
 compared with it, the present estimation 
 they stand in is a state of honour and re- 
 spect ; consider, sir, in what manner you will 
 afterwards proceed. Can you conceive that 
 the people of this country will long submit 
 to be governed by so flexible a house of com- 
 mons ? It is not in the nature of human so- 
 ciety, that any form of government, in such 
 circumstances, can long be preserved. In 
 ours the general contempt of the people is 
 as fatal as their detestation. Such, I am per- 
 suaded, would be the necessary effect of any 
 base concession made by the present house 
 of commons; and as a qualifying measure 
 would not be accepted, it remains for you 
 to decide whether you will, at any hazard, 
 support a set of men, who have reduced 
 you to this unhappy dilemma, or whether
 
 276 
 
 you will gratify the united wishes of the 
 whole people of England by dissolving the 
 parliament. 
 
 Taking it for granted, as I do very sin- 
 cerely, that you have personally no design 
 against the constitution, nor any view incon- 
 sistent with the good of your subjects, I think 
 you cannot hesitate long upon the choice, 
 which it equally concerns your interest and 
 your honour to adopt. On one side, you 
 hazard the affections of all your English 
 subjects; you relinquish every hope of re- 
 pose to yourself, and you endanger the 
 establishment of your family for ever. All 
 this you venture for no object whatsoever, or 
 for such an object as it would be an affront 
 to you to name. Men of sense will examine 
 your conduct with suspicion; while those 
 who are incapable of comprehending to what 
 degree they are injured, afflict you with cla~ 
 mours equally insolent and unmeaning. Sup- 
 posing it possible that no fatal struggle should 
 ensue, you determine at once to be unhappy, 
 without the hope of a compensation either
 
 277 
 
 from interest or ambition. If an English 
 king be hated or despised, he must be un- 
 happy ; and this perhaps is the only politi- 
 cal truth which he ought to be convinced of 
 without experiment. But if the English 
 people should no longer confine their re- 
 sentment to a submissive representation of 
 their wrongs ; if, following the glorious ex- 
 ample of their ancestors, they should no 
 longer appeal to the creature of the consti- 
 tution, but to that high Being who gave 
 them the rights of humanity, whose gifts it 
 were sacrilege to surrender, let me ask you, 
 sir, upon what part of your subjects would 
 you rely for assistance ? 
 
 The people of Ireland have been uni- 
 formly plundered and oppressed. In return 
 they give you every day fresh marks of their 
 resentment. They despise the miserable go- 
 vernor a you have sent them, because he is 
 the creature of lord Bute ; nor is it from any 
 natural confusion in their ideas, that they 
 are so ready to confound the original of a
 
 2/8 
 
 king with the disgraceful representation of 
 him. 
 
 The distance of the colonies would make 
 it impossible for them to take an active con- 
 cern in your affairs if they were as well af- 
 fected to your government as they once pre- 
 tended to be to your person. They were 
 ready enough to distinguish between you and 
 your ministers. They complained of an act 
 of the legislature, but traced the origin of it 
 no higher than to the servants of the crown : 
 they pleased themselves with the hope that 
 their sovereign, if not favourable to their 
 cause, at least was impartial. The decisive 
 personal part you took against them has ef- 
 fectually banished that first distinction from 
 their minds b . They consider you as united 
 with your servants "against America, and 
 know how to distinguish the sovereign and 
 a venal parliament on one side, from the 
 real sentiments of the English people on the 
 other. Looking forward to independence, 
 they might possibly receive you for their 
 king ; but, if ever you retire to America, be
 
 2/9 
 
 assured they will give you such a covenant to 
 digest as the presbytery of Scotland would 
 have been ashamed to offer to Charles the 
 Second. They left their native land in search 
 of freedom, and found it in a desert. Di- 
 vided as they are into thousand forms of po- 
 licy and religion, there is one point in which 
 they all agree : they equally detest the pa- 
 geantry of a king, and the supercilious hy- 
 pocrisy of a bishop. 
 
 It is not then from the alienated affec- 
 tions of Ireland or America that you can rea- 
 sonably look for assistance ; still less from the 
 people of England, who are actually con- 
 tending for their rights, and in this great 
 question are parties against you. You are 
 not, however, destitute of every appearance of 
 support: You have all the Jacobites, non- 
 jurors, Roman catholics, and tories of this 
 countiy, and all Scotland without exception. 
 Considering from what family you are de- 
 scended, the choice of your friends has been 
 singularly directed; and truly, sir, if you 
 had not lost the whig interest of England, I
 
 280 
 
 should admire your dexterity in turning the 
 hearts of your enemies. Is it possible for 
 you to place any confidence in men who, 
 before they are faithful to you, must renounce 
 every opinion, and betray every principle, 
 both in church and state, which they in- 
 herit from their ancestors, and are confirmed 
 in by their education ? whose numbers are 
 so inconsiderable, that they have long since 
 been obliged to give up the principles and 
 language which distinguish them as a party, 
 and to fight under the banners of their ene- 
 mies? Their zeal begins with hypocrisy, 
 and must conclude in treachery. At first 
 they deceive ; at last they betray. 
 
 As to the Scotch, I must suppose your 
 heart and understanding so biassed from your 
 earliest infancy in their favour, that nothing 
 less than your own misfortunes can undeceive 
 you. You will not accept of the uniform 
 experience of your ancestors ; and when once 
 a man is determined to believe, the very ab- 
 surdity of the doctrine confirms him in his 
 faith. A bigotted understanding can draw
 
 281 
 
 a proof of attachment to the house of Ha- 
 nover from a notorious zeal for the house of 
 Stuart, and find an earnest of future loyalty 
 in former rebellions. Appearances are how- 
 ever in their favour; so strongly indeed, that 
 one would think they had forgotten that you 
 are their lawful king, and had mistaken you 
 for a pretender to the crown. Let it be 
 admitted then that the Scotch are as sin- 
 cere in their present professions as if you were 
 in reality not an Englishman, but a Briton 
 of the north. You would not be the first 
 prince of their native country, against whom 
 they have rebelled, nor the first whom they 
 have basely betrayed. Have you forgotten, 
 sir, or has your favourite concealed from you 
 that part of our history, when the unhappy 
 Charles (and he too had private virtues) fled 
 from the open avowed indignation of his Eng- 
 lish subjects, and surrendered himself at dis- 
 cretion to the good faith of his own coun- 
 trymen? Without looking for support in 
 their affections as subjects, he applied only 
 to their honour as gentlemen for protection. 
 They received him as they would your ma-
 
 282 
 
 jesty, with bows, and smiles, and falsehood, 
 and kept him until they had settled their 
 bargain with the English parliament; then 
 basely sold their native king to the vengeance 
 of his enemies. This, sir, was not the act 
 of a few traitors, but the deliberate treachery 
 of a Scotch parliament representing the na- 
 tion. A wise prince might draw from it two 
 lessons of equal utility to himself. On one 
 side, he might learn to dread the undisguised 
 resentment of a generous people, who dare 
 openly assert their rights, and who in a just 
 cause are ready to meet their sovereign in the 
 field. On the other side, he would be taught 
 to apprehend something far more formida- 
 ble; a fawning treachery, against which no 
 prudence can guard, no courage can defend. 
 The insidious smile upon the cheek would 
 warn him of the canker in the heart. 
 
 From the uses to which one part of the 
 army has been too frequently applied, you 
 have some reason to expect that there are no 
 services they would refuse. Here too we 
 trace the partiality of your understanding.
 
 283 
 
 You take the sense of the army from the 
 conduct of the guards, with the same justice 
 with which you collect the sense of the peo- 
 ple from the representations of the ministry. 
 Your marching regiments, sir, will not make 
 the guards their example either as soldiers or 
 subjects. They feel, and resent, as they ought 
 to do, that invariable, undistinguishing fa- 
 vour with which the guards are c treated ; 
 while those gallant troops by whom every 
 hazardous, every laborious service is per- 
 formed, are left to perish in garrisons abroad, 
 or pine in quarters at home neglected and 
 forgotten. If they had no sense of the great 
 original duty they owe their country, their 
 resentment would operate like patriotism, 
 and leave your cause to be defended by those 
 to whom you have lavished the rewards and 
 honours of their profession. The praetorian 
 bands, enervated and debauched as they were, 
 had still strength enough to awe the Roman 
 populace ; but when the distant legions took 
 the alarm, they marched to Rome, and gave 
 away the empire.
 
 284 
 
 On this side then, whichever way you 
 turn your eyes, you see nothing but per- 
 plexity and distress. You may determine to 
 support the very ministry who have reduced 
 your affairs to this deplorable situation ; you 
 may shelter yourself under the forms of a 
 parliament, and set yourself at defiance. But 
 be assured, sir, that such a resolution would 
 be as imprudent as it would be odious. If 
 it did not immediately shake your establish- 
 ment, it would rob you of your peace of 
 mind for ever. 
 
 On the other, how different is the pros- 
 pect! How easy, how safe and honourable is 
 the path before you! The English nation 
 declare they are grossly injured by their re- 
 presentatives, and solicit your majesty to ex- 
 ert your lawful prerogative, and give them 
 an opportunity of recalling a trust which 
 they find has been scandalously abused. You 
 are not to be told that the power of the house 
 of commons is not original, but delegated to 
 them for the welfare of the people, from
 
 285 
 
 whom they received it. A question of right 
 arises between the constituent and the repre- 
 sentative body. By what authority shall it 
 be decided ? Will your majesty interfere in 
 a question in which you have properly no 
 immediate concern? It would be a step 
 equally odious and unnecessary. Shall the 
 lords be called upon to determine the rights 
 and privileges of the commons ? They cannot 
 do it without a flagrant breach of the con- 
 stitution. Or will you refer it to the judges ? 
 They have often told your ancestors, that the 
 law of parliament is above .them. What 
 part then remains, but to leave it to the 
 people to determine for themselves? They 
 alone are injured ; and since there is no su- 
 perior power to which the cause can be re- 
 ferred, they alone ought to determine. 
 
 I do not mean to perplex you with a 
 tedious argument upon a subject already so 
 discussed that inspiration could hardly throw 
 a new light upon it. There are, however, 
 two points of view in which it particularly 
 imports your majesty to consider the late
 
 286 
 
 proceedings of the house of commons. By 
 depriving a subject of his birthright they 
 have attributed to their own vote an au- 
 thority equal to an act of the whole legisla- 
 ture ; and, though perhaps not with the same 
 motives, have strictly followed the example 
 of the long parliament, which first declared 
 the regal office useless, and soon after, with 
 as little ceremony, dissolved the house of 
 lords. The same pretended power which 
 robs an English subject of his birthright, 
 may rob an English king of his crown. In 
 another view, the resolution of the house of 
 commons, apparently not so dangerous to 
 your majesty, is still more alarming to your 
 people. Not contented with divesting one 
 man of his right, they have arbitrarily con- 
 veyed that right to another. They have set 
 aside a return as illegal, without daring to 
 censure those officers who were particularly 
 apprized of Mr. Wilkes's incapacity, not 
 only by the declaration of the house, but ex- 
 pressly by the writ directed to them, and 
 who nevertheless returned him as duly elect- 
 ed. They have rejected the majority of votes,
 
 287 
 
 the only citerion by which our laws judge 
 of the sense of the people; they have trans- 
 ferred the right of election from the collec- 
 tive to the representative body ; and by these 
 acts, taken separately or together, they have 
 essentially altered the original constitution of 
 the house of commons. Versed as your ma- 
 jesty undoubtedly is in the English history, 
 it cannot easily escape you, how much it is 
 your interest, as well as your duty, to prevent 
 one of the three estates from encroaching 
 upon the province of the other two, or as- 
 suming the authority of them all. When 
 once they have departed from the great con- 
 stitutional line by which all their proceed- 
 ings should be directed, who will answer for 
 their future moderation ? Or what assurance 
 will they give you, that when they have 
 trampled upon their equals, they will submit 
 to a superior ? Your majesty may learn here- 
 after, how nearly the slave and tyrant are 
 allied. 
 
 Some of your council, more candid than 
 the rest, admit the abandoned profligacy of
 
 288 
 
 the present house of commons, but oppose 
 their dissolution upon an opinion I confess 
 not very unwarrantable, that their successors 
 would be equally at the disposal of the trea- 
 sury. I cannot persuade myself that the na- 
 tion will have profited so little by experience. 
 But if that opinion were well founded, you 
 might then gratify our wishes at an easy 
 rate, and appease the present clamour against 
 your government, without offering any ma- 
 terial injury to the favourite cause of cor- 
 ruption. 
 
 You have still an honourable part to act. 
 The affections of your subjects may still be 
 recovered. But before you subdue their 
 hearts, you must gain a noble victory over 
 your own. Discard those little personal re- 
 sentments which have too long directed your 
 public conduct. Pardon this man the re- 
 mainder of his punishment; and if resent- 
 ment still prevails, make it what it should 
 have been long since, an act not of mercy, 
 but contempt. He will soon fall back into 
 his natural station, a silent senator, and hardly
 
 289 
 
 supporting the weekly eloquence of a news- 
 paper. The gentle breath of peace would 
 leave him on the surface, neglected and un- 
 removed. It is only the tempest that lifts 
 him from his place. 
 
 Without consulting your minister, call 
 together your whole council. Let it appear 
 to the public that you can determine and act 
 for yourself. Come forward to your people. 
 Lay aside the wretched formalities of a king, 
 and speak to your subjects with the spirit of 
 a man, and in the language of a gentleman. 
 Tell them you have been fatally deceived. 
 The acknowledgment will be no disgrace, 
 but rather an honour to your understanding. 
 Tell them you are determined to remove 
 every cause of complaint against your govern- 
 ment; that you will give your confidence to 
 no man who does not possess the confidence 
 of your subjects ; and leave it to themselves 
 to determine, by their conduct at a future 
 election, whether or no it be in reality the 
 general sense of the nation, that their rights 
 
 have been arbitrarily invaded by the present 
 I U
 
 2go 
 
 house of commons, and the constitution be- 
 trayed. They will then do justice to their 
 representatives and to themselves. 
 
 These sentiments, sir, and the style they 
 are conveyed in, may be offensive, perhaps, 
 because they are new to you. Accustomed 
 to the language of courtiers, you measure 
 their affections by the vehemence of their 
 expressions ; and when they only praise you 
 indifferently, you admire their sincerity. But 
 this is not a time to trifle with your for- 
 tune. They deceive you, sir, who tell you that 
 you have many friends, whose affections are 
 founded upon a principle of personal attach- 
 ment. The first foundation of friendship is 
 not the power of conferring benefits, but 
 the equality with which they are received 
 and may be returned. The fortune which 
 made you a king, forbad you to have a 
 friend. It is a law of nature which cannot 
 be violated with impunity. The mistaken 
 prince who looks for friendship, will find a 
 favourite, and in that favourite the ruin of 
 his affairs.
 
 2Q 1 
 
 The people of England are loyal to the 
 house of Hanover, not from a vain preference 
 of one family to another, but from a convic- 
 tion that the establishment of that family was 
 necessary to the support of their civil and 
 religious liberties. This, sir, is a principle 
 of allegiance equally solid and rational; fit 
 for Englishmen to adopt, and well worthy 
 of your majesty's encouragement. We can- 
 not long be deluded by nominal distinctions. 
 The name of Stuart, of itself, is only con- 
 temptible; armed with the sovereign autho- 
 rity, their principles are formidable. The 
 prince who imitates their conduct, should be 
 warned by their example; and while he 
 plumes himself upon the security of his title 
 to the crown, should remember that, as it 
 was acquired by one revolution, it may be 
 lost by another. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 
 MY LORD, 14 February, 1770. 
 
 IF I were personally your 
 enemy, I might pity and forgive you. You 
 have every claim to compassion that can arise 
 from misery and distress. The condition 
 you are reduced to would disarm a private 
 enemy of his resentment, and leave no con- 
 solation to the most vindictive spirit, but that 
 such an object as you are would disgrace the 
 dignity of revenge. But in the relation you 
 have borne to this country, you have no title 
 to indulgence ; and if I had followed the dic- 
 tates of my own opinion, I never should have 
 allowed you the respite of a moment. In 
 your public character you have injured every 
 subject of the empire ; and though an indi-
 
 vidual is not authorised to forgive the inju- 
 ries done to society, he is called upon to as- 
 sert his separate share in the public resent- 
 ment. I submitted however to the judg- 
 ment of men more moderate, perhaps more 
 candid, than myself. For my own part, I 
 do not pretend to understand those prudent 
 forms of decorum, those gentle rules of dis- 
 cretion, which some men endeavour to unite 
 with the conduct of the greatest and most 
 hazardous affairs. Engaged in the defence 
 of an honourable cause, I would take a de- 
 cisive part. I should scorn to provide for a 
 future retreat, or to keep terms with a man 
 who preserves no measures with the public. 
 Neither the abject submission of deserting 
 his post in the hour of danger, nor even the 
 sacred shield d of cowardice, should protect 
 him. I would pursue him through life, and 
 try the last exertion of my abilities to pre- 
 serve the perishable infamy of his name, and 
 make it immortal. 
 
 What then, my lord, is this the event of 
 all the sacrifices you have made to lord Bute's
 
 patronage, and to your own unfortunate am- 
 bition ? Was it for this you abandoned your 
 earliest friendships, the warmest connexions 
 of your youth, and all those honourable en- 
 gagements by which you once solicited, and 
 might have acquired,' the esteem of your 
 country ? Have you secured no recompense 
 for such an honour ? Unhappy man ! what 
 party will receive the common deserter of all 
 parties ? Without a client to flatter, without 
 a friend to console you, and with only one 
 companion from the honest house of Blooms- 
 bury, you must now retire into a dreadful 
 solitude. At the most active period of life, 
 you must quit the busy scene, and conceal 
 yourself from the world, if you would hope 
 to save the wretched remains of a ruined 
 reputation. The vices operate like age, 
 bring on disease before its time, and in the 
 prime of youth leave the character broken 
 and exhausted. 
 
 Yet your conduct has been mysterious, 
 as well as contemptible. Where is now that 
 firmness, or obstinacy, so long boasted of
 
 by your friends, and acknowledged by your 
 enemies? We were taught to expect that 
 you would not leave the ruin of this country 
 to be completed by other hands, but were de- 
 determined either to gain a decisive victory 
 over the constitution, or to perish bravely 
 at least behind the last dyke of the peroga- 
 tive. You knew the danger, and might 
 have been provided for it. You took suf- 
 ficient time to prepare for a meeting with 
 your parliament, to confirm the mercenary 
 fidelity of your dependants, and to suggest 
 to your sovereign a language suited to his 
 dignity at least, if not to his benevolence and 
 wisdom. Yet, while the whole kingdom 
 was agitated with anxious expectation upon 
 one great point, you meanly evaded the ques- 
 tion, and instead of the explicit firmness and 
 decision of a king, gave us nothing but the 
 misery of a ruined grazier, 8 and the whin- 
 ing piety of a methodist. We had reason 
 to expect that notice would have been taken 
 of the petitions which the king has received 
 from the English nation ; and although I can 
 conceive some personal motives for not yield-
 
 ing to them, I can find none, in common 
 prudence or decency, for treating them with 
 contempt. Be assured, my lord, the English 
 people will not tamely submit to this un- 
 worthy treatment: they had a right to be 
 heard; and their petitions, if not granted, 
 deserved to be considered. Whatever be the 
 real views and doctrine of a court, the so- 
 vereign should be taught to preserve some 
 forms of attention to his subjects ; and if he 
 will not redress their grievances, not to make 
 them a topic of jest and mockery among 
 lords and ladies of the bedchamber. Injuries 
 may be atoned for and forgiven ; but insults 
 admit of no compensation. They degrade 
 the mind in its own esteem, and force it to 
 recover its level by revenge. This neglect 
 of the petitions was however a part of your 
 original plan of government; nor will any 
 consequences it has produced account for 
 your deserting your sovereign in the midst of 
 that distress in which you and your new- 
 friends f had involved him. One would think, 
 my lord, you might have taken this spirited 
 resolution before you had dissolved the last
 
 297 
 
 of those early connexions which once, even 
 in your own opinion, did honour to your 
 youth; before you had obliged lord Gran- 
 by to quit a service he was attached to ; 
 before you had discarded one chancellor, and 
 killed another. To what an abject condition 
 have you laboured to reduce the best of 
 princes, when the unhappy man, who yields 
 at last such personal instance and solicita- 
 tion, as never can be fairly employed against 
 a subject, feels himself degraded by his com- 
 pliance, and is unable to survive the dis- 
 graceful honours which his gracious sove- 
 reign had compelled him to accept. He 
 was a man of spirit, for he had a quick 
 sense of shame, and death has redeemed his 
 character. I know your grace too well to 
 appeal to your feelings upon this event; 
 but there is another heart, not yet, I hope, 
 quite callous to the touch of humanity, to 
 which it ought to be a dreadful lesson for 
 ever. s 
 
 Now, my lord, let us consider the situa- 
 tion to which you have conducted, and in
 
 2Q8 
 
 which you thought it advisable to abandon, 
 your royal master. Whenever the people 
 have complained, and nothing better could 
 be said in defence of the measures of govern- 
 ment, it has been the fashion to answer us, 
 though not very fairly, with an appeal to the 
 private virtues of your sovereign. ' Has he 
 ( not, to relieve the people, surrendered a 
 < considerable part of his revenue? Has he 
 ( not made the judges independent, by fix- 
 f ing them in their places for life ?' My lord, 
 we acknowledge the gracious principle which 
 gave birth to these concessions, and have no- 
 thing to regret, but that it has never been 
 adhered to. At the end of seven years, we 
 are loaded with a debt of above five hundred 
 thousand pounds upon the civil list, and we 
 now see the chancellor of Great Britain ty- 
 rannically forced out of his office, not for 
 want of abilities, not for want of integrity, 
 or of attention to his duty, but for deliver- 
 ing his honest opinion in parliament upon 
 the greatest constitutional question that has 
 arisen since the revolution. We care not to 
 whose private virtues you appeal ; the theory
 
 299 
 
 of such a government is falsehood and mock- 
 ery; the practice is oppression. You have 
 laboured then (though I confess to no pur- 
 pose) to rob your master of the only plau- 
 sible answer that ever was given in defence 
 of his government, of the opinion which 
 the people had conceived of his personal ho- 
 nour and integrity. The duke of Bedford 
 was more moderate than your grace. He 
 only forced his master to violate a solemn 
 promise made to an individuals But you, 
 my lord, have successfully extended your ad- 
 vice to every political, every moral engage- 
 ment, that could bind either the magistrate 
 or the man. The condition of a king is of- 
 ten miserable; but it required your grace's 
 abilities to make it contemptible. You will 
 say perhaps that the faithful servants in whose 
 hands you have left him, are able to retrieve 
 his honour, and to support his government. 
 You have publicly declared, even since your 
 resignation, that you approved of their mea- 
 sures, and admired their conduct; particu- 
 larly that of the earl of Sandwich. What a 
 pity it is, that, with all this appearance, you
 
 300 
 
 should think it necessary to separate yourself 
 from such amiable companions. You forget, 
 my lord, that while you are lavish in the praise 
 of men whom you desert, you are publicly 
 opposing your conduct to your opinions, 
 and depriving yourself of the only plausible 
 pretence you had for leaving your sovereign 
 overwhelmed with distress: I call it plau- 
 sible, for, in truth, there is no reason what- 
 soever, less than the frowns of your master, 
 that could justify a man of spirit for aban- 
 doning his post at a moment so critical and 
 important ? It is in vain to evade the ques- 
 tion. If you will not speak out, the pub- 
 lic have a right to judge from appearances. 
 We are authorised to conclude, that you 
 either differed from your colleagues, whose 
 measures you still affect to defend, or that 
 you thought the administration of the king's 
 affairs no longer tenable. You are at liberty 
 to choose between the hypocrite and the 
 coward. Your best friends are in doubt 
 which way they shall incline. Your country 
 unites the characters, and gives you credit 
 for them both. For my own part, I see
 
 301 
 
 nothing inconsistent in your conduct. You 
 began with betraying the people ; you con- 
 clude with betraying the king. 
 
 In your treatment of particular persons 
 you have preserved the uniformity of your 
 character. Even Mr. Bradshaw declares that 
 no man was ever so ill used as himself. As 
 to the provision 1 you have made for his fa- 
 mily, he was entitled to it by the house he 
 lives in. The successor of one chancellor 
 might well pretend to be the rival of another. 
 It is the breach of private friendship which 
 touches Mr. Bradshaw ; and, to say the truth, 
 when a man of his rank and abilities had 
 taken so active a part in your affairs, he 
 ought not to have been let down at last with 
 a miserable pension of fifteen hundred pounds 
 a year. Colonel Luttrell, Mr. Onslow, and 
 governor Burgoyne, were equally engaged 
 with you, and have rather more reason to 
 complain than Mr. Bradshaw. These are 
 men, my lord, whose friendship you should 
 have adhered to on the same principle on 
 which you deserted lord Rockingham, lord
 
 302 
 
 Chatham, lord Camden, and the duke of 
 Portland. We can easily account for your 
 violating your engagements with men of ho- 
 nour; but why should you betray your na- 
 tural connexions? Why separate yourself 
 from lord Sandwich, lord Gower, and Mr. 
 Rigby, or leave the three worthy gentlemen 
 above mentioned to shift for themselves? 
 With all the fashionable indulgence of the 
 times, this country does not abound in cha- 
 racters like theirs; and you may find it a dif- 
 ficult matter to recruit the black catalogue 
 of your friends. 
 
 The recollection of the royal patent you 
 sold to Mr. Hine, obliges me to say a word 
 in defence of a man whom you have taken 
 the most dishonourable means to injure. I 
 do not refer to the sham prosecution which 
 you affected to carry on against him. On 
 that ground I doubt not he is prepared to 
 meet you with tenfold recrimination, and set 
 you at defiance. The injury you had done 
 him affects his moral character. You knew 
 that the offer to purchase the reversion of a
 
 303 
 
 place which has heretofore been sold under 
 a decree of the court of chancery, however 
 imprudent in his situation, would no way 
 tend to cover him with that sort of guilt 
 which you wished to fix upon him in the 
 eyes of the world. You laboured then, by 
 ever)'- species of false suggestion, and even 
 by publishing counterfeit letters, to have it 
 understood that he had proposed terms of 
 accommodation to you, and had offered to 
 abandon his principles, his party, and his 
 friends. You consulted your own breast for 
 a character of consummate treachery, and 
 gave it to the public for that of Mr. Vaughan. 
 I think myself obliged to do this justice to 
 an injured man, because I was deceived by 
 the appearances thrown out by your grace, 
 and have frequently spoken of his conduct 
 with indignation. If he really be, what I 
 think him, honest, though mistaken, he will 
 be happy in recovering his reputation, though 
 at the expence of his understanding. Here, 
 I see, the matter is likely to rest. Your grace 
 is afraid to carry on the prosecution. Mr. 
 Hine keeps quiet possession of his purchase;
 
 304 
 
 and governor Burgoyne, relieved from the 
 apprehension of refunding the money, sits 
 down, for the remainder of his life, infamous 
 and contented. 
 
 I believe, my lord, I may now take my 
 leave of you for ever. Yon are no longer 
 that resolute minister who had spirit to sup- 
 port the most violent measures; who com- 
 pensated for the want of good and great 
 qualities, by a brave determination (which 
 some people admired and relied on) to main- 
 tain himself without them. The reputation 
 of obstinacy and perseverance might have 
 supplied the place of all the absent virtues. 
 You have now added the last negative to 
 your character, and meanly confessed that 
 you are destitute of the common spirit of a 
 man. Retire then, my lord, and hide your 
 blushes from the world; for with such a load 
 of shame, even black may change its colour. 
 A mind such as yours, in the solitary hours 
 of domestic enjoyment, , may still find topics 
 of consolation. You may find it in the me- 
 mory of violated friendship ; in the afflictions
 
 305 
 
 of an accomplished prince, whom you have 
 disgraced and deserted, and in the agitations 
 of a great country, driven by your councils 
 to the brink of destruction. 
 
 The palm of ministerial firmness is now 
 transferred to lord North. He tells us so 
 himself, and with the plenitude of the ore 
 rotundo ; k and I am ready enough to believe, 
 that while he can keep his place he will not 
 easily be persuaded to resign it. Your grace 
 was the firm minister of yesterday: lord 
 North is the firm minister of to-day. To- 
 morrow, perhaps, his majesty, in his wisdom, 
 may give us a rival for you both. You are 
 too well acquainted with the temper of your 
 late allies to think it possible that lord North 
 should be permitted to govern this country. 
 If we may believe common fame, they have 
 shewn him their superiority already. His 
 majesty is indeed too gracious to insult his 
 subjects by choosing his first minister from 
 among the domestics of the duke of Bedford. 
 That would have been too gross an outrage 
 to the three kingdoms. Their purpose, how-
 
 306 
 
 ever, is equally answered by pushing forward 
 this unhappy figure, and forcing it to bear 
 the odium of measures which they in reality 
 direct. Without immediately appearing to 
 govern, they possess the power, and distri- 
 bute the emoluments of government, as they 
 think proper. They still adhere to the spirit 
 of that calculation which made Mr. Luttrell 
 representative of Middlesex. Far from re- 
 gretting your retreat, they assure us very 
 gravely, that it increases the real strength 
 of the ministry. According to this way of 
 reasoning, they will probably grow stronger 
 and more flourishing every hour they exist; 
 for I think there is hardly a day passes in 
 which some one or other of his majesty's 
 servants does not leave them to improve 
 by the loss of his assistance. But, alas! 
 their countenances speak a different lan- 
 guage. When the members drop off the 
 main body cannot be insensible of its ap- 
 proaching dissolution. Even the violence 
 of their proceedings is a signal of despair. 
 Like broken tenants, who have had warning 
 to quit the premises, they curse their land-
 
 so; 
 
 lord, destroy the fixtures, throw every thing 
 into confusion, and care not what mischief 
 they do to the estate. 
 
 JUNIUS. 
 
 END OP VOL. I.
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO THE 
 
 FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 DEDICATION. a This positive denial of an arbi- 
 trary power being vested in the legislature, is not, in fact, 
 a new doctrine. When the earl of Lindsey, in the year 
 1675, brought a bill into the house of lords, ' To prevent 
 '' the dangers which might arise from persons disaffected 
 ' to government,' by which an oath and penalty was to 
 be imposed upon the members of both houses, it was af- 
 firmed in a protest signed by twenty-three lay-peers (my 
 lords the bishops were not accustomed to protest), ' That 
 ' the privilege of sitting and voting in parliament was an 
 ' honour they had by birth, and a right so inherent in 
 ' them, and inseparable from them, that nothing could 
 ' take it away but what, by the law of the land, must 
 ' withal take away their lives, and corrupt their blood.' 
 These noble peers (whose names are a reproach to their 
 posterity) have, in this instance, solemnly denied the pow- 
 er of parliament to alter the constitution. Under a parti-
 
 310 
 
 cular proposition, they have asserted a general truth in 
 which every man in England is concerned. 
 
 PREFACE. b The following quotation from a speech 
 delivered by lord Chatham on the eleventh of December, 
 177O, is taken with exactness. The reader will find it cu- 
 rious in itself, and very fit to be inserted here. ' My lords, 
 ' the verdict given in Woodfall's trial was " guilty of 
 " printing and publishing only;" upon which two motions 
 ' were made in court; one, in arrest of judgment by the 
 ' defendant's counsel, grounded upon the ambiguity of 
 ' the verdict; the other, by the counsel for the crown, 
 ' for a rule upon the defendant, to shew cause why the 
 ' verdict should not be entered up according to the legal 
 ' import of the words. On both motions a rule was grant- 
 ' ed, and soon after the matter was argued before the 
 ' court of king's bench. The noble judge, when he deli- 
 ' vered the opinion of the court upon the verdict, went 
 ' regularly through the whole of the proceedings at nisi 
 ' prius, as well the evidence that had been given, as his 
 ' own charge to the jury. This proceeding would have 
 ' been very proper had a motion been made of either side 
 ' for a new trial, because either a verdict given contrary 
 ' to evidence, or an improper charge by the judge at nisi 
 ' prius, is held to be a sufficient ground for granting a 
 ' new trial. But when a motion is made in arrest of judg- 
 * ment, or for establishing the verdict, by entering it up 
 4 according to the legal import of the words, it must be 
 ' on the ground of something appearing on the face of 
 ' the record; and the court, in considering whether the
 
 311 
 
 ' verdict shall be established or not, are so confined to the 
 
 ' record, that they cannot take notice of any thing that 
 
 ' does not appear on the face of it; in the legal phrase, 
 
 ' they cannot travel out of the record. The noble judge 
 
 ' did travel out of the record, and I affirm that his dis- 
 
 ' course was irregular, extrajudicial, and unprecedented. 
 
 ' His apparent motive for doing what he knew to be 
 
 ' wrong, was, that he might have an opportunity of tell- 
 
 ' ing the public extrajudicially, that the other three judges 
 
 ' concurred in the doctrine laid down in his charge.' 
 
 c Parliamentary History, 7. V. p. 400. 
 d Monsieur de Lolme. 
 
 LETTERS. a The duke of Grafton took the office of 
 secretary of state with an engagement to support the 
 marquis of Rockingham's administration. He resigned, 
 however, in a little time, under pretence that he could 
 not act without lord Chatham, nor bear to see Mr. Wilkes 
 abandoned; but that under lord Chatham he would act in 
 any office. This was the signal of lord Rockingham's dis- 
 mission. When lord Chatham came in, the duke got pos- 
 session of the treasury. Reader, mark the consequence ! 
 
 b Yet Junius has been called the partizan of lord Chat- 
 ham! 
 
 1C That they should retract one of their resolutions, and 
 erase the entry of it.
 
 312 
 
 d It was pretended that the earl of Rochford, while 
 ambassador in France, had quarrelled with the duke 
 of Choiseuil, and that therefore he was appointed to the 
 northern department out of compliment to the French 
 minister. 
 
 e The late lord Granby. 
 
 r This man being committed by the court of king's 
 bench for a contempt, voluntarily made oath, that he 
 would never answer interrogatories unless he should be 
 put to tlie torture. 
 
 s It has been said, and I believe truly, that it was 
 signified to sir William Draper, as the request of lord 
 Granby, that he should desist from writing in his lord- 
 ship's defence. Sir William Draper certainly drew Junius 
 forward to say more of lord Granby's character than he 
 originally intended. He was reduced to the dilemma of 
 either being totally silenced, or of supporting his first let- 
 ter. Whether sir William had a right to reduce him to 
 this dilemma, or to call upon him for his name, after a 
 voluntary attack on his side, are questions submitted to 
 the candour of the public. The death of lord Granby was 
 lamented by Junius. He undoubtedly owed some com- 
 pensations to the public, and seemed determined to acquit 
 himself of them. In private life, he was unquestionably 
 that good man who, for the interest of his country, ought 
 to have been a great one. Bonum virum facile dixeris; 
 magnum libenter. I speak of him now without partiality;
 
 313 
 
 I never spoke of him with resentment. His mistakes, in 
 public conduct, did not arise either from want of sen- 
 timent, or want of judgment, but in general from the dif- 
 ficulty of saying NO to the bad people who surrounded him. 
 As for the rest, the friends of lord Granby should 
 remember, that he himself thought proper to condemn, 
 retract, and disavow, by a most solemn declaration in the 
 house of commons, that very system of political conduct 
 which Junius had held forth to the disapprobation of the 
 public. 
 
 h Whitehall, March 1 1, 1769. His majesty has been 
 graciously pleased to extend his royal mercy to Edward 
 M'Quirk, found guilty of the murder of George Clarke, 
 as appears by his royal warrant to the tenor following. 
 
 GEORGE R. 
 
 Whereas a doubt had arisen in our royal breast con. 
 cerning the evidence of the death of George Clarke, from 
 the representations of William Bromfield, esq. surgeon, 
 and Solomon Starling, apothecary; both of whom, as has 
 been represented to us, attended the deceased before his 
 death, and expressed their opinions that he did not die of 
 the blow he received at Brentford : And whereas it appears 
 to us, that neither of the said persons were produced as 
 witnesses upon the trial, though the said Solomon Star- 
 ling had been examined before the coroner, and the only 
 person called to prove that the death of the said George 
 Clarke was occasioned by the said blow, was John Foot,
 
 314 
 
 surgeon, who never saw the deceased till after his death j 
 we thought fit thereupon to refer the said representations, 
 together with the report of the recorder of our city of 
 London, of the evidence given by Richard and William 
 Beale, and the said John Foot, on the trial of Edward 
 Quirk, otherwise called Edward Kirk, otherwise called 
 Edward M' Quirk, for the murder of the said Clarke, to 
 the master, wardens, and the rest of the court of examiners 
 of the surgeons company, commanding them likewise to 
 take such further examination of the said persons so re- 
 presenting, and of said John Foot, as they might think 
 necessary, together with the premises above mentioned, 
 to form and to report to us their opinion, 'Whether it 
 ' did or did not appear to them, that the said George 
 ' Clarke died in consequence of the blow he received in 
 ' the riot at Brentford on the 8th of December last.' And 
 the said court of examiners of the surgeons company hav- 
 ing thereupon reported to us their opinion, ' That it did 
 ' not appear to them that he did 3' We have thought pro- 
 per to extend our royal mercy to him the said Edward 
 Quirk, otherwise Edward Kirk, otherwise called Edward 
 M' Quirk, and to grant him our free pardon for the mur- 
 der of the said George Clarke, of which he has been found 
 guilty: Our will and pleasure therefore is, That he the 
 said Edward Quirk, otherwise called Edward Kirk, other- 
 wise called Edward M'Quirk, be inserted, for the said mur- 
 der, in our first and next general pardon that shall come out 
 for the poor convicts of Newgate, without any condition 
 whatsoever; and that in the mean time you take bail for
 
 315 
 
 his appearance, in order to plead our said pardon. And 
 for so doing this shall be your warrant. 
 
 Given at our court at St. James's the 10th day of 
 March, 1769, in the ninth year of our reign. 
 
 By his majesty's command. 
 
 R O C H F O R D. 
 
 To our trusty and well-beloved James 
 Eyre, esq. recorder of our city of 
 London, the sheriffs of our said city 
 and county of Middlesex, and all 
 others whom it may concern. 
 
 1 This unfortunate person had been persuaded by the 
 duke of Graf ton to set up for Middlesex. It happened, 
 unluckily, that he could not prevail upon any freeholder 
 to put him in nomination. 
 
 k Sir Fletcher Norton, when it was proposed to punis 
 the sheriffs, declared in the house of commons that they, 
 in returning Mr. Wilkes, had done no more than their 
 duty. 
 
 1 The duke, about this time, had separated himself from 
 Ann Parsons, but proposed to continue united with her, on 
 some platonic terms of friendship, which she rejected. 
 
 m His grace had lately married Miss Wrottesley, niece 
 of the Good Gertrude, duchess of Bedford.
 
 316 
 
 n Miss Liddel, after her divorce from the duke, mar- 
 ried lord Upper Ossory. 
 
 Mr. Bradshaw, secretary to the treasury. 
 P Sir John Moore. 
 
 q Precedents, in opposition to principles, have little 
 weight with Juniusj but he thought it necessary to meet 
 the ministry upon their own ground. 
 
 r Case of the Middlesex election considered, page 38. 
 
 8 This is still meeting the ministry upon their own 
 ground; for in truth, no precedents will support either 
 natural injustice, or violation of positive right. 
 
 1 Mr. Grenville had quoted a passage from the doc- 
 tor's excellent commentaries, which directly contradicted 
 the doctrine maintained by the doctor in the house of 
 commons. 
 
 u If, in stating the law upon any point, a judge deli- 
 berately affirms that he has included every case, and it 
 should appear that he has purposely omitted a material 
 case, he does in effect lay a snare for the unwary. 
 
 * It is well worth remarking, that the compiler of a 
 certain quarto, called The case of the last election for the
 
 317 
 
 county of Middlesex considered, has the impudence to re- 
 cite this very vote, in the following terms, vide page 11, 
 ' Resolved, that Robert Walpole, esq. having been that 
 4 session of parliament expelled the house, was and is in- 
 ' capable of being elected a member to serve in the present 
 ' parliament.' There cannot be a stronger positive proof 
 of the treachery of the compiler, nor a stronger presump- 
 tive proof that he was convinced that the vote, if truly 
 recited, would overturn his whole argument. 
 
 y The duke lately lost his only son by a fall from his 
 horse. 
 
 z At this interview, which passed at the house of the 
 late lord Eglintoun, lord Bute told the duke that he was 
 determined never to have any connexion with a man who 
 had so basely betrayed him. 
 
 a (page 186) In an answer in chancery, in a suit 
 against him to recover a large sum paid him by a person 
 whom he had undertaken to return to parliament for one 
 of his grace's boroughs. He was compelled to repay the 
 money. 
 
 b Of Bedford, where the tyrant was held in such con- 
 tempt and detestation, that, in order to deliver themselves 
 from him, they admitted a great number of strangers to the 
 freedom. To make his defeat truly ridiculous, he tried his 
 whole strength against Mr. Home, and was beaten upon 
 his own ground.
 
 318 
 
 e Mr, Heston Humphrey, a country attorney, horse- 
 whipped the duke with equal justice, severity, and perse- 
 verance, on the course at Litchfield. Rigby and lord 
 Trentham were also cudgelled in a most exemplary man- 
 ner. This gave rise to the following story: 'When the 
 
 * late king heard that sir Edward Hawke had given the 
 ' French a drubbing, his majesty, who had never received 
 
 * that kind of chastisement, was pleased to ask lord Ches- 
 ' terfield the meaning of the word. Sir, says lord Chester- 
 ' field, the meaning of the word but here comes the duke 
 ' of Bedford, who is better able to explain it to your ma- 
 ' jesty than I am.' 
 
 d This man, notwithstanding his pride and tory princi- 
 ples, had some English stuff in him. Upon an official 
 letter he wrote to the duke of Bedford, the duke desired 
 to be recalled, and it was with the utmost difficulty that 
 lord Bute could appease him. 
 
 c Mr. Grenville, lord Halifax, and lord Egremont. 
 
 f The ministry having endeavoured to exclude the 
 dowager out of the regency bill, the earl of Bute deter- 
 mined to dismiss them. Upon this the duke of Bedford 
 
 demanded an audience of the , reproached him in 
 
 plain terms with his duplicity, baseness, falsehood, trea- 
 chery, and hypocrisy, repeatedly gave him the lie, and 
 left him in convulsions. 
 
 8 He received three thousand pounds for plate and 
 equipage money.
 
 319 
 
 h When carl Gower was appointed president of the 
 council, the king, with his usual sincerity, assured him, 
 that he had not had one happy moment since the duke of 
 Bedford left him. 
 
 1 Lord Gower, Weymouth, and Sandwich. 
 
 k Was Brutus an ancient bravo and dark assassin; 
 or does sir W. D. think it criminal to stab a tyrant to the 
 heart? 
 
 1 If sir W. D. will take the trouble of looking into 
 Torcy's Memoirs, he will see with what little ceremony a 
 bribe may be offered to a duke, and with what little ce- 
 remony it was only not accepted. 
 
 m Within a fortnight after lord Tavistock's death, the 
 venerable Gertrude had a route at Bedford house. The 
 good duke (who had only sixty thousand pounds a year) 
 ordered an inventory to be taken of his son's wearing ap- 
 parel, down to his slippers, sold them all, and put the mo- 
 ney in his pocket. The amiable marchioness, shocked at 
 such brutal, unfeeling avarice, gave the value of the 
 clothes to the marquis's servant out of her own purse. 
 That incomparable woman did not long survive her hus- 
 band. When she died, the duchess of Bedford treated her 
 as the duke had treated his only son. She ordered every 
 gown and trinket to be sold, and pocketed the money. 
 
 n Major general Gansel.
 
 320 
 
 Lieutenant Dodd. 
 
 f Lieutenant Garth. 
 
 q A few of them were confined. 
 
 r A little before the publication of this and the pre- 
 ceding letter, the chaste duke of Grafton had commenced 
 a prosecution against Mr. Samuel Vaughan, for endea- 
 vouring to corrupt his integrity by an offer of five thou- 
 sand pounds for a patent place in Jamaica. A rule to shew 
 cause, why an information should not be exhibited against 
 Vaughan for certain misdemeanours, being granted by the 
 court of king's bench, the matter was solemnly argued on 
 the 27th of November, 1769, and, by the unanimous opi- 
 nion of the four judges, the rule was made absolute. The 
 pleadings and speeches were accurately taken in short- 
 hand and published. The whole of lord Mansfield's 
 speech, and particularly the following extracts from it, 
 deserve the reader's attention. ' A practice of the kind 
 ' complained of here is certainly dishonourable and scan- 
 ' dalous. If a man, standing under the relation of an 
 ' officer under the king, or of a person in whom the king 
 ' puts confidence, or of a minister, takes money for the 
 ' use of that confidence the king^puts in him, he basely 
 ' betrays the king he basely betrays his trust. If the 
 ' king sold the office, it would be acting contrary to the 
 ' trust the constitution hath reposed in him. The con- 
 ' stitution does not intend the crown should sell those 
 * offices, to raise a revenue out of them. Is it possible
 
 321 
 
 ' to hesitate, whether this would not be criminal in the 
 ' duke of Grafton; contrary to his duty as a privy coun- 
 ' sellor; contrary to his duty as a minister; contrary to 
 ' his duty as a subject ? His advice should be free accord - 
 ' ing to his judgment; it is the duty of his office; he has 
 * sworn to it.' Notwithstanding all this, the chaste duke 
 of Grafton certainly sold a patent place to Mr. Hine for 
 three thousand five hundred pounds ; and for so doing is 
 now loi'd privy seal to the chaste George, with whose piety 
 we are perpetually deafened. If the house of commons 
 had done their duty, and impeached the black duke for 
 this most infamous breach of trust, how wofully must 
 poor, honest Mansfield have been puzzled! His embar- 
 rassment would have afforded the most ridiculous scene 
 that ever was exhibited. To save the worthy judge from 
 this perplexity, and the no less worthy duke from im- 
 peachment, the prosecution against Vaughan was imme- 
 diately dropped upon my discovery and publication of the 
 duke's treachery. The suffering this charge to pass, with- 
 out any inquiry, fixes shameless prostitution upon the face 
 of the house of commons, more strongly than even the 
 Middlesex election. Yet the licentiousness of the press is 
 complained of! 
 
 1 From the publication of the preceding to this date, 
 not one word was said in defence of the duke of Grafton. 
 We acknowledge the piety of St. James's; but what is be- 
 come of his morality ? 
 
 1 And by the same means preserves it to this hour. 
 I Y
 
 322 
 
 u Bradshaw. 
 
 x Mr. Taylor. He and George Ross (the Scotch agent 
 and worthy confidante of lord Mansfield) managed the 
 business. 
 
 y The plan of tutelage and future dominion over the 
 heir apparent, laid many years ago at Carleton-house be- 
 tween the princess dowager and her favourite the earl of 
 Bute, was as gross and palpable as that which was con- 
 certed between Anne of Austria and cardinal Mazarin to 
 govern Lewis the Fourteenth, and in effect to prolong his 
 minority until the end of their lives. That prince had 
 strong natural parts, and used frequently to blush for his 
 own ignorance and want of education, which had been 
 wilfully neglected by his mother and her minion. A little 
 experience however soon shewed him how shamefully he 
 had been treated, and for what infamous purposes he had 
 been kept in ignorance. Our great Edward too, at an 
 early period, had sense enough to understand the nature 
 of the connexion between his abandoned mother and the 
 detested Mortimer. But since that time human nature, 
 we may observe, is greatly altered for the better. Dow- 
 agers may be chaste, and minions may be honest. When 
 it was proposed to settle the present king's household as 
 prince of Wales, it is well known that the earl of Bute 
 was forced into it, in direct contradiction to the late king's 
 inclination. That was the salient point from which all the 
 mischiefs and disgraces of the present reign took life and 
 motion. From that moment lord Bute never suffered the
 
 323 
 
 prince of Wales to be an instant gut of his sight. We 
 need not look farther. 
 
 1 One of the first acts of the present reign was to dis- 
 miss Mr. Legge, because he had some years before refused 
 to yield his interest in Hampshire to a Scotchman recom- 
 mended by lord Bute. This was the reason publicly as- 
 signed by his lordship. 
 
 * (p. 277) Viscount Townshend, sent over on the plan 
 of being resident governor. The history of his ridiculous 
 administration shall not be lost to the public. 
 
 b In the king's speech of November 8, 1768, it was de- 
 clared, ' That the spirit of. faction had broken out afresh 
 ' in some of the colonies, and in one of them proceeded 
 ' to acts of violence and resistance to the execution of the 
 ' laws; that Boston was in a state of disobedience to all 
 ' law and government, and had proceeded to measures 
 ' subversive of the constitution, and attended with cir- 
 ' cumstances that manifested a disposition to throw off 
 ' their dependance on Great Britain.' 
 
 c The number of commissioned officers in the guards 
 are to the marching regiments as one to eleven; the num- 
 ber of regiments given to the guards, compared with those 
 given to the line, is about three to one, at a moderate com- 
 putation 5 consequently the partiality in favour of the 
 guards is as thirty-three to one. So much for the officers. 
 The private men have fourpence a day to subsist on, and
 
 324 
 
 five hundred lashes if they desert. Under this punishment, 
 they frequently expire. With these encouragements, it is 
 supposed, they may be depended upon whenever a certain 
 person thinks it necessary to butcher his fellow subjects. 
 
 d Sacro tremuere timore. ' Every coward pre- 
 tends to be planet struck.' 
 
 e There was something wonderfully pathetic in the 
 mention of the horned cattle. 
 
 f The Bedford party. 
 
 K The most secret particulars of this detestable trans- 
 action shall, in due time, be given to the people. The 
 people shall know what kind of man they have to deal 
 with. 
 
 h Mr. Stuart Mackenzie. 
 
 1 A pension of 15001. per annum, insured upon the 
 4 1-half per cents, (he was too cunning to trust to Irish 
 security) for the lives of himself and his sons. This gen- 
 tleman, who a very few years ago was clerk to a contrac- 
 tor for forage, and afterwards exalted to a petty post in 
 the war office, thought it necessary (as soon as he was ap- 
 pointed secretary to the treasury) to take that great house 
 in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields in which the earl of Northington 
 had resided while he was lord high chancellor of Great 
 Britain. As to the pension, lord North very solemnly as-
 
 325 
 
 sured the house of commons, that no pension was ever so 
 well deserved as Mr. Bradshaw's. N. B. Lord Camden and 
 sir Jeffery Amherst are not near so well provided for ; and 
 sir Edward Hawke, who saved the state, retires with two 
 thousand pounds a year, on the Irish establishment, from 
 which he in fact receives less than Mr. Bradshaw's pen- 
 
 k This eloquent person has got as far as the discipline 
 of Demosthenes. He constantly speaks with pebbles in 
 his mouth, to improve his articulation. 
 
 END OF THE NOTES TO VOL. I.
 
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