LETTERS OF JUNIUS UNDER THEIR COMIC ASPECT.

THE victims of a delusion, when it has been exposed, are not unusually the first to laugh at their credulity, which is some set-off to previous discomfort or misleading. If, for instance, in the evening twilight we have mistaken a Scotch thistle for a ghost, or a black ram for a German ogre, a mirthful outbreak offers a welcome equivalent for antecedent fears and misapprehensions. These, however, are only fleeting deceptions of the senses, as unimportant as the wild imagery of a dream, and unlike the mental phantasma of a more abiding nature, by which, from mistaken impressions, a community has been misled for generations. Of this higher class may be reckoned the story of the "Letters of Junius," and having been lately occupied in completing the discovery of the great political enigma of nearly a century, I shall on this occasion touch upon the authorship of them in some of its more amusing presentments. Independent of the mystery of their origin, they form an epoch in political writing, from which the commencement of journalistic power may be dated, and as such, a step of intellectual progress meriting attention.

But I must first premise that I consider little or any doubt remains of the author of these celebrated epistles. That the Letters were written, and that Sir Philip Francis was the author of them, appear facts alike indubitable. But the most remarkable incident in their history is, that the world should have been so long and successfully deceived; that a score and more of persons should have been challenged, and never the right one; yet that the author should be of no mean eminence in public life, be always astir in broad day, still, notwithstanding his notoriety, continue unrevealed and even unsuspected, though several beside himself were in the secret, and that, at the last, he was only fixed upon from an accidental collocation of names and dates inadvertently furnished by himself, despite of his anxious and ever-watchful efforts to preserve to the last his anonymity.

Astounding as these truths are, they are not of difficult solution. The glittering gems in the astral vault are innumerable and unchangeable in place, but if we look for any particular star in the wrong place we shall not find it. It was so with Junius; he was sought where he was not. At the outset, inquirers were put on a wrong scent. He was a great writer, and it was concluded from his rare gifts, vast information, and lofty demeanour, that he must also be a great personage-a minister of state, generalissimo, or perhaps the king himself, for even George III. ranked among the imputed.

All that Francis did or assumed-his anonymous simulation of high connexions, proud disdain of assailants, polished and sarcastic dictionwere essential to the success of his enterprise. They are the attributes wont to be associated with power, and his aim was to be oracular from a lofty perch. Less would not have sufficed. He had a great design in hand for his station-to overturn a ministry and replace it by another more favourable to his own purposes. But himself only a young man, a

* By the Essay on the "Letters of Junius,” in Mr. Bohn's Standard Library.

clerk in the War-office, thunder or fiery darts from such a crater, had they been permitted to issue by his superiors, would have been powerless. The world is shy of parvenus, the unknown, or untried, and perhaps wisely so. Those who assume to teach or direct it must first show credentials-have slain their Goliath like the son of Jesse-or produce other testimonial of fitness and capability. Francis could not do this. He possessed uncommon abilities, of which he was no doubt conscious; had won medals and other scholastic honours, and had obtained little places and preferments from exalted patrons-all, however, inadequate pretensions for the vocation to which he ambitiously aspired, as pilot of the state vessel, and supreme director of public opinion through the agency of the Press.

In the absence of the real, to give weight and authority to his writings, he tendered the counterfeit, which was fully and without mistrust accepted. He had previously, under other signatures, essayed his 'prentice hand, and had become master of the chief arts of popular impression and literary composition. To gain the general ear was his first object, and with this view, in his opening letter, he commences in the not unusual routine by flattering the people for their just and elevated sentiments and innocence of blame for public calamities. These he traces wholly to the executive government, none of the members of which have the requisite experience, abilities, or common sense; the king, too, he considerately exempts from blame, and lauds him for "the purest of all possible hearts," and his anxious endeavour at the outset of his reign to unite parties, and select the most worthy to rule. Having separated the innocent, he pounces on the guilty, dissects the entire ministry, holding up each singly and successively to scorn and contumely. Grafton, as the head of it, is, of course, the chief delinquent--a "young nobleman already ruined by play," and "an apostate by design from every honourable engagement;" yet to him is committed the "finances of a nation already sinking under its debts and expenses." The chancellor of the exchequer, Lord North, is next arraigned as without parliamentary abilities and influence; "repeatedly called down for absolute ignorance, ridiculous motions ridiculously withdrawn, deliberate plans disconcerted, and a week's preparation of graceful oratory lost in a moment." The rest are depicted in similar disparaging colours, and a string of terse, telling, and compact paragraphs, wound up with the declaration that the "crisis is so full of terror and despair," that nothing less can save the nation from the vices and incapacities of its administration than the "merciful interposition of Providence."

Denunciation of this Olympian pitch at once arrested public attention, and drew into the lists no unworthy opponent, with real name, distinguished in public life for military services, as well as a scholar and accomplished gentleman. Sir William Draper did not aim at a general reply to the anti-ministerial strictures of Junius, but only to rescue his particular friend, the Marquis of Granby, from the talons of his assailant. In his devotion he himself became the victim, and was unmercifully shown up in respect of his own pseudo-public services, pension, honours, and preferment. The position of Junius at the War-office enabled him to do this with minuteness and force, though he inadvertently fell into an error as to forms in his own office, which Sir William laid hold of.

The combatants exchanged several missives, and though Sir William had the worst of the conflict, Junius admitted that his labours as author did no discredit to a "newspaper." He evinced his defeat by losing his temper, and seeking to make the controversy a personal affair by calling on Junius to unmask and take the responsibility of "strong assertions without proof, declamation without argument, and violent censures without dignity or moderation." But this concession was inadmissible, as Junius had only appeared with visor down, and in such guise Sir William had volunteered a passage of arms.

But Junius aimed at more exalted quarry than a colonel on half-pay. It was the downfal of the Ministry he sought, and for this issue singled out its head, the First Lord of the Treasury, for annihilation. It arose from an indefensible attempt of the minister to screen from justice a party of guards who had rescued General Gansel from the hands of the sheriff's officers, after they had arrested him for debt. It was followed by others inculpatory of the public acts of the Duke of Grafton, and his private character was assailed by imputations on his morality in openly parading his mistress in a public theatre. The chancellor of the exchequer, Lord North, is addressed in a lively, sarcastic, and pungent epistle, for rewarding the services of Colonel Luttrell to the ministry, in coming forward to contest with Alderman Wilkes the representation of Middlesex. Upon the Duke of Bedford, Junius concentrated all his venom; his grace had become unpopular from his negotiation of the peace of 1763, but his great offence was his junction with the Grafton ministry, by which its dissolution was delayed. The duke was more unmercifully mangled than any, by a contumacious appreciation of his general character, bitter railing against his political conduct, and personal anecdotical disparagements. But in this consisted the subtlety of the state satiristthe most exalted are the most humiliated-serving thereby a double purpose in reducing the influence of the most powerful and magnifying that of their invisible assailant. It was more by his unsparing attacks on the grandees of the realm than the vigour and finish of his writings that the fame of Junius culminated. In respect of literary tact and polish, some of his known earlier writings were little inferior to his later compositions, but they failed, in common with effusions from others, to make a signal popular impression. It was only when ducal statesmen, or still more exalted personages, were subjected to his incisive pen that general attention was aroused. This gave a marked impulse to the sale of the Public Advertiser, in which they first appeared, and were thence reprinted by other journals. His famous address to the King completed his renown, established him as the most bold and accomplished gladiator that ever figured in journalist columns. Of this spirited and dignified effusion he himself appears to have thought highly. In a private note to the printer he says, "I am now meditating a capital, and, I hope, a final piece." It must have answered his utmost expectations, for an unprecedented number (seventeen hundred and fifty) of extra copies were printed of the Public Advertiser, and not a single copy was to be procured a few hours after its publication. It was for this production Mr. Woodfall was prosecuted, and obtained the celebrated verdict of "guilty of printing and publishing only." This novel and equivocal return gave rise to two distinct motions in court, one by defendant, for arrest of judgment, and

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an adverse one by the crown. On the case being argued, the court of King's Bench granted a new trial. But this also failed, from the neglect of the Attorney-General in not producing the original newspaper by which the publication could be proved.

These futile and blundering proceedings of course made an immense noise, and elevated Junius to the highest pinnacle, on which for a season he continued as the greatest and most mysterious incendiary that had appeared, defiant of authority in its highest seats. The celebrated Horne Tooke, with others of no little consideration, essayed to break a lance with him; they helped to diversify the incidents of the battle-field, and were dealt with in that pleasant put-aside fashion that made it appear like a condescension to notice such small fry. The loftiest in the literary and political world esteemed it not beneath them to speculate on the new Hercules that had strangled, sans pity, all who had excited his ire. That he was a person of the highest mark in scholarship, unsurpassed in ability in state and legislation, in court life and personal connexions, not a particle of doubt was entertained. Among the suspected by different writers, with varying degrees of proof, from resemblance of sentiment, handwriting, style, and so forth, were six peers of the realm, two bishops, numerous commoners, and some of the principal literati of the time. Dr. Johnson thought it was Burke's thunder, but Edmund satisfied the Gamaliel of his innocence. Indeed, Burke was among the bewildered, and equally carried off his feet with the great moralist. It originated his wellknown description of the mighty boar of the forest, who had broken through all the toils of the law, bearing away in his tusks the mangled "limbs of king, lords, and commons." Lord North sought to comfort the orator, assuring him that "the mighty Junius, who had foiled the hunters, would in the end be speared."

This extravagance must have been as amusing as gratifying to the unknown in his War-office retreat. The extreme caution and dexterous contrivances by which he threw the hunters, who were many besides Mr. Garrick, on a wrong scent, were quite equal, if not superior, in cleverness to his writings. Discovery would have been fatal to him in every respect to his official permanence, to the weight and celebrity of his Letters, and to his future hopes from a Chatham restoration. Consequently, false lights were thrown out in every direction to divert suspicion from the Horse Guards. Junius thus became, to the imagination of his contemporaries and other inquirers, a patrician figure, in which every feature of personalty, birth, and position differed from the reality. "My rank and fortune," he says, "place me above a common bribe." A seat in the cabinet, of course, or more potential individuality, could only buy him. Probably he was one of the great but disappointed hereditary heads of parties-a Rockingham, Grenville, Shelburne, or Chatham. A fallen angel certainly, perhaps the highest, with Satanic powers, intense pride, hatred, and ambition. "You shall know me by my works," he tells Woodfall. Mere gain from his writings appears beneath notice. In a note respecting a reprint of his Letters, he says, "What you say about profits is very handsome. I like to deal with such men. As for myself, I am far above all pecuniary views."

Not content with creating an impression of affluence and rank, he sought to clothe himself, though a young man, with the venerableness of age. As one of the fruits of his past life, he strongly inculcates honesty

to Woodfall. "After long experience in the world," he tells him, "I can assure you I never knew a rogue who was happy." Wilkes tries to draw him to a Mansion-house ball; offers him tickets, and expresses the joy he would feel to see him dance with Polly, his daughter. Junius replies: "Many thanks for your obliging offer, but, alas, my age and figure would do little credit to my partner." Would not any one have inferred the writer was an old man; or, if not advanced in years, beyond middle life and somewhat portly. But Francis was never corpulent; bone and muscle, as in his writings, were dominant over the softer tissues.

Mr. Woodfall, who had been his schoolfellow at St. Paul's, and who in personal contact must have recognised him, he was very apprehensive of meeting. At one time he thought Woodfall had made the discovery; but he was reassured, and was successful in completely blinding him. The printer became so awe-struck by a sense of the great unknown with whom he was in correspondence, that he reverentially sought his guidance in the discharge of his electoral duties. The great demi-gorgon of the City lay prostrate. "I do not mean," says Wilkes, "to indulge the impertinent curiosity of finding out the most important secret of our times -the authorship of Junius. I will not attempt with profane hands to tear the sacred veil of the sanctuary. I am disposed, with the inhabitants of Attica, to erect an altar to the unknown god of our political idolatry, and will be content to worship him in clouds and darkness." To whom the god replies, first reproving the lax ethics of his worshipper: "I find I am treated as other gods usually are by their votaries, with sacrifice and ceremony in abundance, and very little obedience. The profession of your faith is unexceptionable; but I am a modest deity, and should be full as well satisfied with morality and good works.*

"That

The myrmidons of the court and responsible advisers of the crown stood aghast, confounded by the mortal shafts aimed by the invisible archer. It was the apparent omnipresence of the foe and his universal knowledge of great and small affairs that alarmed and distracted suspicions. No state council, project, or change escaped his all-prying eyes. If a secret expedition was fitting out, he knew it; if war impended, he anticipated all the quidnuncs of the Cocoa-tree. If ministerial changes were in prospect, Junius was the first to signal them. Were a nobleman affronted, he was the earliest to denounce it. Swinney," says he, "is a wretched but dangerous fool to address Lord George Sackville." "Beware of David Garrick; he was sent to pump you, and went directly to tell the king." Of the cabals, clubs, and officials of the city of London he was equally cognisant. He cautions Alderman Wilkes against making "himself so cheap by walking the streets so much." Doubtless, wishing it to be understood he had descried him from his carriage, or other patrician stall, in the practice of so plebeian a style of locomotion.

In such assumptions consist the chief comedy of the Junius' Letters. The writer was nearly at the lowest step of promotion's ladder, and adroitly scheming, by false lights and intense labour, to reach a higher round. His extraordinary industry and efforts to compass this issue it is impossible to consider without admiration. The composition of the * Excerpts from the writer's "Essay," and essential to bring out the aim of the present article.