it; he is brave. Do you fancy that your own base arts have infected our whole island? But your own reflections, your own conscience, must and will, if you have any spark of humanity remaining, 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 ears of the too credulous and deluded mob. It accuses the Duke of Bedford of high treason. Upon what foundation? You tell us, "that the Duke's pecuniary character makes it more than probable, that he could not have made such sacrifices at the peace, without some private compensations; that his conduct carried 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, JUNIUS, 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 encreased 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 economy 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? Produce 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 VOL. I.

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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 journies impeded, and even the asylum of an altar be insecure, from assertions so base and false? Potent as he is, the Duke is amenable to justice; if guilty, punishable. The parliament is the high and solemn tribunal for matters of such great moment. To that be they submitted. But I hope also that some notice will be taken of, and some punishment inflicted upon, false accusers, especially upon 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 potent Peer, is the state better served by this exchange? Is the real emancipation of the borough affected, 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 caricatura, and tell us of the resemblance; but multum abludit imago.

All your long tedious accounts of the ministerial 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 flatterany 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 ministerial 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 thereto. 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†.

LETTER XXVII.

TO THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER.

SIR, 13 October, 1769. Ir 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

* Sir William gives us a pleasant account of men, who, in his opinion at least, are best qualified to govern an empire.

† A few days subsequent to the publication of this letter, a report was circulated, that Sir William Draper, in consequence of his defence of Lord Granby, had been appointed to a governorship in America, which Sir William contradicted, in the following short note, addressed to the Printer of the Public Advertiser, Oct. 20, 1769.

"Sir,

1

"You are desired to contradict the report that Sir William Draper is appointed a governor in America. The story has been raised to make the public believe that he has endeavoured to vindicate those whom he knows to have been most infamously traduced for the sake of a reward. His motive for this voyage is entirely curiosity. He has nothing to do with the politics of this ministry, or any other set of men whosoever." EDIT.

intelligible. But that a man should be the bitterest enemy of his friends, implies a contradiction of a peculiar nature! There is something in it which cannot be conceived without a confusion 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 advocate 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 human heart, than to compare or confound the tortures of the body with those of 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 injudicious? Does Sir William Draper think I would have hazarded my credit with a generous 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 understanding so full of artifice as mine? Had he been a father, he would have been but little offended with the severity of the reproach, for his mind would have been filled with the justice 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 astonishment. 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 they are never mistaken. There may be a vanity perhaps in a singular way of thinking; but when a man professes a want of those feelings, which do honour to the multitude, he hazards some

thing infinitely more important than the character of his understanding. After all, as Sir William may possibly 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 consult the tranquillity of his life, in not provoking 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 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 generosity (wonderful indeed, considering the narrowness of his fortune, and the little merit of his only son) the public may still perhaps 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. Rigbyt, of blushing merit brought forward by the Duke, for the service of the public, it should not have been omitted‡.