Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

per, lest the world should suspect that conscience | spoken daggers to him, you may justly dread one use has some share in your resentments. You have of them against your own breast, did a want of courmore to fear from the treachery of your own passions, age, or of noble sentiments, stimulate him to such than from any malevolence of mine. mean revenge. He is above it; he is brave. Do you I believe, sir, you will never know me. A con- fancy that your own base arts have infected our siderable time must certainly elapse before we are whole island? But your own reflections, your own personally acquainted. You need not, however, re- conscience, must, and will, if you have any spark of gret the delay, or suffer an apprehension, that any humanity remaining, give him most ample vengeance. length of time can restore you to the Christian meek- Not all the power of words with which you are so ness of your temper, and disappoint your present in-graced, will ever wash out, or even palliate, this foul dignation. If I understand your character, there is blot in your character. I have not time, at present, in your own breast a repository, in which your re- to dissect your letter so minutely as I could wish; sentments may be safely laid up for future occasions, but I will be bold enough to say, that it is (as to and preserved without the hazard of diminution. reason and argument) the most extraordinary piece The odia in longum jacens, quæ reconderet, auctaque of florid impotence that was ever imposed upon the promeret, I thought had only belonged to the worst eyes and ears of the too credulous and deluded mob. character of antiquity. The text is in Tacitus: you It accuses the duke of Bedford of high treason. Upon know best where to look for the commentary. what foundation? You tell us, "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."

*SIR,

LETTER XXVI.

A WORD AT PARTING TO JUNIUS.

JUNIUS.

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 goodnature 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.

October 7, 1769. As you have not favored 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 produce either the proofs or yourself, I will excuse it. Take courage, I have not the temper 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 minister If exact order, method, and true economy, as a masdown to such a grub or butterfly as myself; like an- ter as of a family; if splendor, and just magnificence other detested tyrant of antiquity, can make the without wild waste and thoughtless extravagance, wretched sufferer fit the bed, if the bed will not fit may constitute the character of an avaricious man, the sufferer, by disjointing or tearing the trembling the duke is guilty. But, for a moment let us admit limbs, until they are stretched to its extremity. But the ambassador may love money too much: what courage, constancy, and patience under torments, proof do you give that he has taken any to betray have sometimes caused the most hardened monsters his country? Is it hearsay, or the evidence of letto relent, and forgive the object of their cruelty.ters, or ocular; or the evidence of those concerned in You, sir, are determined to try all that human nature this black affair? Produce your authorities to the can endure, until she expires; else, was it possible that you could be the author of that most inhuman 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 affectionate 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 discussed, without descending to the most odious personalities? Must you go wantonly out of your way to torment declining age, because the duke of Bedford may have quarrelled with those whose cause and politics you espouse? For shame! for shame! As you have * Measures and not men, is the common cant of affected moderation: a base counterfeit language, fabricated by knaves, and made current among fools. Such gentle censure is not fitted to the present degenerate state of Society. What does it avail to expose the absurd contrivance, or pernicious tendency, of measures, if the man who advises or executes, shall be suffered, not only to escape with impunity, but even to preserve his power, and insult us with the favor of his sovereign? I would recommend to the reader the whole of Mr. Pope's letter to Dr. Arbuthnot, dated July 26, 1734, from which the following is an extract: "To reform, and not to chastise, I am afraid, is impossible; and that the best precepts, as well as the best laws, would prove of small use, if there were no examples to enforce them. To attack vices in the abstract, without touching persons, may be safe fighting, indeed, but it is fighting with shadows. My greatest comfort and encouragement to proceed has been to see, that those who have no shame, and no fear of any thing else, have appeared touched by my satires.'

public. It is the 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 journeys impeded, and even the asylum of an alter 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 moment: to that be they submitted. But I hope, also, high and solemn tribunal for matters of such great 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 effected, because new parchment bonds may possibly supersede the old? To

say the truth, wherever such practices prevail, they | mine? Had he been a father, he would have been are equally criminal to, and destructive of, our freedom.

The rest of your declamation is scarce worth considering, except 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.

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 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 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, October 13, 1769.

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 honor 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 honor to the multitude, he hazards something 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. If sir William Draper's bed be a bed of tortures, The rest he had not time to discuss; and, indeed, it he has made it for himself. I shall never interrupt his would have been a laborious undertaking. To draw repose. Having changed the subject, there are parts up a defense of such a series of enormities, would have of his last letter not undeserving of a reply. Leav-required a life, at least, as long as that which has ing his private character and conduct out of the question, I shall consider him merely in the capacity of an author, whose labors 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 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. 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 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

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

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 patronised, men of learning protected, and works of genius rewarded. In short, had there been a single instance, besides Mr. Rigby,* of blushing merit, brought forward by the duke for the service 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 conclusion, however, was not drawn from the principle alone. I am not so unjust as to reason from one crime to another: though I think that, of all the vices, avarice is most apt to taint and corrupt the heart. I combined 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 treasonable negotiation, I still maintain that the conduct of this

*This gentleman is supposed to have the same idea of blushing, that a man, blind from his birth, bas of scarlet or sky blue.

If sir W. D will take the trouble of looking into Torey's Memoirs, he will see with what little ceremony a bribe may be offered to a duke, and with what little cere mony it was only not accepted

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 triumphant security, as if nothing could be true but what could be proved in a court of justice. Yet a religious man might have remembered upon what foundation some truths, most interesting to mankind, have been received and established. If it were not for the internal evidence which the purest of religions carries with it, what would have become of his once well-quoted decalogue, and of the meekness of his Christianity?

LETTER XXIX.

ADDRESSED TO THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERISER.
SIR,
October 19, 1769.

I am 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 dispute must be chiefly about words. Notwithstanding 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 employed than in the trifling refinements of verbal criticism. Modestus, however, shall have no reason to triumph in the silence and moderation 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 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.

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, I do not wonder at the unremitted rancor with for aught I know, it may carry with it something which the duke of Bedford and his adherents invariprophetic. His grace, undoubtedly, has received sev-ably speak of a nation, which we well know has been eral ominous hints; and, I think, in certain circumstances, a wise man would do well to prepare himself, for the event.

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 tribunal; 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 every word of the matter. I hope, indeed, the day of impeachments will arrive before this nobleman 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 mockery of the common sense of the nation? I think he might have con tented himself with defending the greatest enemy, without insulting the distresses of his country.

His concluding declaration of his opinion, 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 defense of worthless or indifferent characters, while he gives but seven solitary lines to the only subject which can deserve his attention, or do credit to his abilities!

[blocks in formation]

I very sincerely applaud the spirit with which a lady has paid the debt of gratitude to her benefactor. Though I think she has mistaken the point, she shows a virtue which makes her respectable. The question 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 country, as he derived from his power in another. I am far from wishing to lessen the merit of 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.

too much injured to be easily forgiven. But why must Junius be an Irishman? The absurdity of his writings betrays him. Waiving all consideration of the insult offered by Modestus to the declared judgment of the people (they may well bear this amongst the rest), let us follow the several instances, and try whether the charge be fairly supported.

1. Then, the leaving a man to enjoy such a 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 William Draper; but there is nothing absurd either in the idea or expression. Modestus cannot distinguish between a sarcasm and a contradiction.

2. I affirm, with Junius, that it is the frequency of the fact which alone can make us comprehend how a man can be his own enemy. 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.

He

3. Modestus could not, without great affectation, mistake the meaning of Junius, when he speaks of a man, who is the bitterest enemy of his friends. could not but know, that Junius spoke not of a false or hollow friendship, but a real intention to serve, and that intention producing the worst effects of enmity. Whether the description be strictly applicable to sir William Draper, is another question. Junius 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 expense; but, under the presence of friendship, to sport with the reputation, or sacrifice the honor, of another, is something worse than weakness; and if, in favor 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 confirm

[ocr errors]

ation of experience Sir William Draper, I confess, is an exception 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 ornament or illustration, to represent those of the mind; but, strictly, there is no similitude between 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 punishment, and creates that torture, with which the guilty mind acts upon itself.

5. He misquotes what Junius says of conscience, and makes the sentence ridiculous, by making it his

own.

I

I

Modestus could read the original, he would see, that the expression not only 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 wishing he had given 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 hæc opprobra may be divided 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.

LETTER XXX.

TO THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER. So much for composition. Now for fact. Junius, SIR, October 17, 1702. it seems, has mistaken the duke of Bedford. His It is not wonderful that the great cause in grace had all the proper feelings of a father, though which this country is engaged, should have roused he took care to suppress the appearance of them. Yet and engrossed the whole attention of the people. it was an occasion, one would think, on which he I rather admire the generous spirit with which they need not have been ashamed of his grief; on which feel and assert their interest in this important quesless fortitude would have done him more honor. Can conceive, indeed, a benevolent motive for his tion, than blame them for their indifference about endeavoring to assume an air of tranquillity in his any other. When the constitution is openly invaded, own family; and I wish I could discover any thing, in when the first original right of the people, from which all laws derive their authority, is directly the rest of his character, to justify my assigning that attacked, inferior grievances naturally lose their force, motive to his behavior. But is there no medium? Was it necessary to appear abroad, to ballot at the and are suffered to pass by without punishment or observation. The present ministry are as singularly India-House, and make a public display, though it marked by their fortune, as their crimes. Instead of were only of an apparent insensibility? I know we atoning for their former conduct, by any wise or are treading on tender ground; and Junius, I am convinced, does not wish to urge this question far-popular measure, they have found, in the enormity ther. Let the friends of the duke of Bedford observe of one fact, a cover and defense for a series of measthat humble silence which becomes their situation. ures, which must have been fatal to any other administration. I fear we are too remiss in observing the They should recollect, that there are still some facts whole of their proceedings. Struck with the princiin store at which human nature would shudder. shall be understood by those whom it concerns, when pal figure, we do not sufficiently mark in what manner the canvass is filled up. Yet surely it is I say, that these facts go farther than to the duke.* not a less crime, nor less fatal in its consequences, to It is not inconsistent to suppose, that a man may encourage a flagrant breach of the law, by a military be quite indifferent about one part of a charge, yet force, than to make use of the forms of parliament to severely stung with another; and though he feels no destroy the constitution.-The ministry seemed deremorse, that he may wish to be revenged. The termined to give us a choice of difficulties, and, if charge of insensibility carries a reproach, indeed, but possible, to perplex us with the multitude of their no danger with it. Junius had said, There are offenses. The expedient is worthy of the duke of others who would assassinate. Modestus, knowing Grafton. But though he has preserved a gradation his man, will not suffer the insinuation to be divided, and variety in his measures, we should remember but fixes it all upon the duke of Bedford. that the principle is uniform. Dictated by the same spirit, they deserve the same attention. The following fact though of the most alarming nature, has not yet been clearly stated to the public; nor have the consequences 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 excuse. Instead of employing the leisure they have had, in a strict examination of the offense, and punishing the offenders, they seem to have considered that indulgence as a security to them; that, with a little time and management, the whole affair might be buried in silence, and utterly forgotten.

Without determining upon what evidence Junius would choose to be condemned, I will venture to maintain, in opposition to Modestus, or to Mr. Rigby, (who is certainly not Modestus) or any of the Bloomsbury gang, that the evidence against the duke of Bedford is as strong as any presumptive evidence can be. It depends upon a combination of facts and reasoning, which require no confirmation from the anecdote of the duke of Marlborough. This anecdote was referred to, merely to show how ready a great man may be to receive a great bribe; and if *Within a fortnight after lord Tavistock's death, the venerable Gertrude had a rout 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 apparel, down to his slippers, sold them all, and put the money 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 husband. 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. These are the monsters whom sir William Draper comes forward to defend. May God protect me from doing any thing that may require such defense, or to deserve such friendship.

A major general* of the army is arrested by the sheriff's 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 favoring his escape.

* Major-general Gansel.

[ocr errors]

He attempts it. A bustle ensues. The bailiffs claim their prisoner.

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 dishonor our public places, it might, perhaps, be sufficient 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 are neither good soldiers nor good subjects. Far be it from me to insinuate the most distant reflection upon the army. On the contrary, I honor 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 particular 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 higher 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.

An officer of the guards,† not then on duty, takes part in the affair, applies to the lieutenant ‡ commanding the Tilt-yard guard, and urges him to turn out his guard to relieve a general officer. The lieutenant declines 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 sheriff's 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 military 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 execution 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 my design to dwell upon the misconduct of the parties concerned, any farther than is necessary to show the behavior of the ministry in its true light. I would make every compassionate allowance for the infatuation of the prisoner, the false and criminal discretion of one officer, and the madness of another. I would leave the ignorant soldiers entirely out of the question. They are certainly the least guilty though they are the only persons who have yet suffered, even in the appearance of punishment.* The fact itself, How far this dangerous spirit has been encouraged however atrocious, is not the principal point to be by government, and to what pernicious purposes it considered. It might have happened under a more may be applied hereafter, well deserves our most seriregular government, and with guards better discip- ous consideration. I know, indeed, that, when this lined than ours. The main question is, In what man- affair happened, an affectation of alarm ran through ner have the ministry acted on this extraordinary the ministry. Something must be done to save apoccasion? A general officer calls upon the king's pearances. The case was too flagrant to be passed by own guard, then actually on duty, to rescue him from absolutely without notice. But how have they acted? the laws of his country: yet, at this moment, he is in Instead of ordering the officers concerned (and who, a situation no worse than if he had not committed an strictly speaking, are alone guilty) to be put under offense equally enormous in a civil and military view. arrest, and brought to trial, they would have it unA lieutenant upon duty designedly quits his guard, derstood, that they did their duty completely, in conand suffers it to be drawn out by another officer, for fining a serjeant and four private soldiers, until they a purpose, which he well knew (as we may collect should be demanded by the civil power: so that from an appearance of caution, which only makes his while the officers, who ordered or permitted the thing behavior the more criminal) to be in the highest de- to be done, escaped without censure, the poor men,. gree illegal. Has this gentleman been called to a who obeyed these orders, who, in a military view, are court martial to answer for his conduct? No. Has no way responsible for what they did, and who for it been censured? No. Has it been in any shape in- that reason, have been discharged by the civil magisquired into? No. Another lieutenant, not upon trates, are the only objects whom the ministry have duty, nor even in his regimentals, is daring enough to thought proper to expose to punishment. They did' order out the king's guard, over which he had prop-not venture to bring even these men to a court marerly 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 suffered? Literally none. Supposing he should be prosecuted at common law for the rescue; will that circumstance, from which the ministry can derive no merit, excuse or justify their suffering so flagrant a breach of military discipline to pass by unpunished and unnoticed? Are they aware of the outrage offered to their sovereign, when his own proper guard is ordered out to stop, by main force, 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.

+ Lieutenant Dodd.

# Lieutenant Garth.

A few of them were confined.

tial, because they knew their evidence would be fatal to some persons whom they were determined to protect; otherwise, I doubt not, the lives of these unhappy, friendless soldiers, would long since have been sacrificed without scruple, to the security of their guilty officers.

I have been accused of endeavoring to inflame 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 maintain 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 The subject, though robbed of his share in the legislature, is still protected by the laws. The political freedom of the English constitution was

course.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »