LETTER XXIII, Hæret lateri lethalis arundo. To Sir WILLIAM DRAPER, SIR, Sept. 25. 1769. AFTER fo long an interval, I did not expect to see the debate revived between us. My answer to your last letter fhall be fhort; for I write to you with reluctance, and I hope we shall now conclude our correfpondence for ever. `ment. Had you been originally and without provocation attacked by an anonymous writer, you would have fome right to demand his name. But in this caufe you are a volunteer. You engaged in it with the unpremeditated gallantry of a foldier. You were content to fet your name in oppofition to a man, who would probably continue in concealYou understood the terms upon which we were to correfpond, and gave at least a tacit affent to them. After voluntarily attacking me under the character of Junius, what poffible right have you to know me under any other? Will you forgive me if I infinuate to you, that you forefaw fome honour in the apparent fpirit of coming forward in perfon, and that you were not quite indifferent to the display of your literary qualifications ? You You cannot but know that the republication of my letters was no more than a catchpenny contrivance of a printer, in which it was impoffible I fhould be concerned, and for which I am no way anfwerable. At the fame 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 offence to Sir William Draper. Your remarks upon a fignature, adopted merely for diftinction, are unworthy of notice; but when you tell me I have fubmitted to be 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 filly invectives of every fimpleton, who writes in a news-paper; and what opinion you would have conceived of my difcretion, if I had fuffered myself to be the dupe of fo fhallow an artifice? Your appeal to the fword, though confiftent enough with your late profeffion, will neither prove your innocence nor clear you from fufpicion.Your complaints with regard to the Manilla ranfom were, for a confiderable time, a diftrefs to government. You were appointed (greatly out of your turn) to the command a regiment, and during that adminiftration we heard no more of Sir William Draper. The facts, of which I fpeak, may indeed be variously accounted for, but they are are too notorious to be denied; and I think you might have learnt at the univerfity, that a falfe conclufion is an error in argument, not a breach of veracity. Your folicitations, I doubt not, were renewed under another adminiftration. Admitting the fact, I fear an indifferent perfon would only infer from it, that experience had made you ac quainted with the benefits of complaining. Remember, Sir, that you have yourself confeffed, that, confidering the critical fituation of this country, the miniftry are in the right to temporife with Spain. This confeffion reduces you to an unfortunate di+ lemma. By renewing your folicitations, you must either mean to force your country into a war at a most unfeasonable juncture; or, having no view or expectation of that kind, that you look for nothing but a private compenfation to yourself. As to me, it is by no means neceffary that I fhould be exposed to the refentment 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 affaffi nate. But after all, Sir, where is the injury? You affure me, that my logic is puerile and tinfel, that it carries not the leaft weight or conviction, that my premises are false, and my conclufions abfurd. If this be a just description of me, how is it offible for for fuch a writer to disturb your peace of mind, or injure a character fo well established as yours? Take care, Sir William, how you indulge this un ruly temper, left the world should fufpect that conscience has some share in your refentments. You have more to fear from the treachery of your own paffions, than from any malevolence of mine. I believe, Sir, you will never know me. A confiderable time must certainly elapfe before we are perfonally acquainted. You need not however regret the delay, or fuffer an apprehenfion that any length of time can reftore you to the Chriftian meekness of your temper, and disappoint your prefent indignation. If I understand your character, there is in your own breaft a repofitory, in which your refentments may be fafely laid up for future occafions, and preferved without the hazard of diminution. The Odia in longum jaciens, quæ reconderet, auctaque promeret, I thought had only belonged to the worst character of antiquity. The text is in Tacitus-you know beft where to look for the commentary. JUNIUS. LET LETTER XXIV. A WORD AT PARTING TO JUNIUS. SIR, S you have not favoured me with either of A s the explanations demanded of you, I can have nothing more to say to you upon my own account. Your mercy to me, or tendernefs for yourself, has been very great. The public will judge of your motives. If your excefs of modefty forbids you to produce either the proofs, or yourfelf, I will excufe it. Take courage; I have not the temper of Tiberius, any more than the rank or power. You, indeed, are a tyrant of another fort, and upon, your political bed of torture can excruciate any fubject, from a first minister down to fuch a grub or butterfly as myself: like another detested tyrant of antiquity, can make the wretched fufferer fit the bed, if the bed will not fit the fufferer, by disjointing or tearing the trembling limbs until they are ftretched to its extremity. But courage, conftancy and patience, under torments, have fometimes caufed the most hardened monfters to relent, and forgive the object of their cruelty. You, Sir, are determined to try all that human nature can endure, until she expires: elfe, was it poffible that you could be the author of that most inhuman letter to the Duke of Bedford? I have read with aftonish |