ft ' UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES A JOHN FISKE 3 TAT ('MB K.I , PRINTED BY T. BENSLEY. %'//'/// vv/vy^i/ ^/>./, y , /,', > 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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