JUNIUS. JUNIUS, believed to be the pseudonym of Sir Philip Francis, a British politician and pamphleteer, born in Dublin, Oct. 22, 1740; died in London, Dec. 23, 1818. In 1773 he was sent to India as one of the Council of State, with a salary of £10,000 a year. He remained in India six years. Returning to England he entered. into politics; became a member of Parliament, but gained no commanding position in public life, from which he retired in 1807, having been knighted the preceding year. Francis was the acknowledged author of some thirty political pamphlets; but his only claim to remembrance rests upon his supposed authorship of the "Letters of Junius," a series of brilliant newspaper articles which appeared at intervals in the Public Advertiser between January, 1769, and January, 1772. In the first authorized collection of these letters there were forty-four bearing the signature of "Junius," and fifteen signed "Philo-Junius." Macaulay was clearly convinced that Francis was the author. He says: "The case against Francis — or, if you please, in favor of Francis - rests on coincidences sufficient to convict a murderer." - TO SIR WILLIAM DRAPER, KNIGHT OF THE BATH. 3 March, 1769. SIR, - 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 disturbed 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 style of interrogation, which suits my capacity, and to which, considering the readiness of your answers, you ought to have no objection. Even Mr. Bingley promises to answer, if put to the torture. VOL. XIII. — 1 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 muscles, but I believe it would little affect the tranquillity of his conscience. Examine your own breast, Sir William, and you will discover, 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 dishonorable action, has feeling enough to be ashamed of it. I thank you for your hint of the decalogue, and shall take an opportunity of applying it to some of your most virtuous friends in both Houses of parliament. 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 contest with you) that you have been able to clear yourself of a crime, though at the expense 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 provision, which in their own nature, and in all military and parliamentary views, are incompatible; but I call upon you to justify that declaration, wherein you charge your sovereign with having done an act in your favor, 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 holding it, it is a breach of law. It would have been more decent in you to have called this dishonorable transaction by its true name; a job to accommodate two persons, by particular 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! From And now, Sir William, I shall take my leave of you forever. 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 yourself indebted to me. the lessons I have given you, you may collect a profitable instruction for your future life. They will either teach you so to regulate your conduct, as to be able to set the most malicious |