on the hearts of the Irish nation: and as to a false one, they need only take a survey of the person and manners of their chief governor, if in the midst of their distresses they can laugh at the perfect caricature of a king.

"CORREGIO."

This letter gave such great offence to the parties, that they made every investigation to discover the author. Suspicions ultimately fell on Lord George Sackville, though there was no possible means of ascertaining the fact to a certainty. A consultation was held and a satirical dialogue was drawn up taxing him with it; and if we substitute the character of Lord George Sackville for that of Lord Shelburne, the passages will bear out this conjecture.

Letter VII., 22 Oct., 1767, terminates as follows:

"Malagrida [Lord George Sackville]. Won't you hear me my lord?

"Sulky [Lord Townshend]. It is unnecessary, my dear Lord. I see your meaning written in your face. (Aside) What the devil shall I do now? A sick man might as well be cured by a consultation of quack doctors; they talk, and debate, and wrangle, and the patient expires.. However, I shall at least have the satisfaction of being reminded of the duke's popular administration in that country. Lord George was his secretary.

drawing their pictures. I believe the best thing I can do, will be to consult with my Lord George Sackville. His character is known and respected in Ireland as much as it is here, and I know hẹ loves to be stationed in the rear as well as my. self."-Exit.

66

Malagrida [Lord George], solus (The others are represented as having gone out one by one, after making their remarks). What a negro's skin must I have, if this shallow fellow could see my meaning in my face! Now will I skulk away to, where I will betray or misrepresent every syllable I have heard, ridicule their persons, blacken their characters, and fawn upon the man who hears me, until I have an opportunity of biting him even to the heart."-Exit,

Lord George Sackville, being a Privy Counsellor, was suspected of having satirized and exposed the affairs of government, as well as the members of administration; but it was a question of too delicate a nature, to charge him direct with having betrayed the trust confided in him. The parties, therefore, took this opportunity of letting him know, by the lampoon from which the above quotation is taken, that they had grounds for their suspicions, and Mr. Woodfall has, I think, been mistaken in his conjecture, that this is a production of the pen of Junius; though it requires but little foresight to detect the error. The tenor of the dialogue is to show,

that no business could be transacted while a Malagrida was among them. Therefore, to read it as the production, of Junius's pen would be improper. I have every reason to believe Mr. Butler is of the same opinion. Allusions are made to some remarks of Junius in prior letters such as, a provision for those sweet blooded children, the Scotch-the lord lieutenant's talent for portrait painting-the charge against him of cowardice at Dettingen-and the barbarity of the Irish; all which circumstances had been previously mentioned by Junius. The dialogue in question was shortly after attributed to Burke, who never disclaimed it.

Taking it in another point of view, we must be certain that it could not proceed from the pen of Junius, as Junius in his private letter to Mr. Woodfall was very angry that Swinney should presume to call on Lord George, taxing him with writing the letters. Had he not been friendly to Lord George, he would not have been so anxious that he should escape suspicion. In proof of this assertion we do not find his name mentioned elsewhere, or any other allusion to him in the letters; whereas, had Junius been an enemy to Lord George, it is not likely his character would have been spared, especially as there are so many allusions to officers about that time, whose conduct appeared to him highly reprehensible.

We now proceed to explain the causes of his animosity to the Duke of Bedford.

A few weeks after the battle of Minden, before Lord George had time to defend his conduct, the Duke of Bedford was appointed lordlieutenant of Ireland, and deputy ranger of the Phoenix Park, Dublin, in the room of Lord George Sackville.

Here lies the mystery of Junius's antipathy and resentment. He writes down this nobleman without mercy: tells him what an honourable character he has sullied by leaving his own country; how unpopular he was in Ireland; states his unfortunate embassy to Versailles; and that he is the last man government ought to have trusted.

Letter XXIII. 19 Sept. 1769, concludes thus:

"Your friends will ask, perhaps, whither shall this unhappy old man retire? Can he remain in the metropolis, where his life has been so often threatened, and his palace so often attacked? If he returns to Woburn, scorn and mockery await him. He must create a solitude round his estate, if he would avoid the face of reproach and derision. At Plymouth, At Plymouth, his destruction would be more than probable; at Exeter, inevitable. No honest Englishman will ever forget his attachment, nor any honest Scotchman forgive his treachery to Lord Bute. At every town

he enters, he must change his liveries and his Whichever way he flies, the hue and cry

name.

of the country pursues him.

"In another kingdom, indeed, the blessings of his administration have been more severely felt: his virtues better understood: or, at worst, they will not for him alone, forget their hospitality. As well might Verres have returned to Sicily. You have twice escaped, my Lord; beware of a third experiment. The indignation of a whole people, plundered, insulted, and oppressed as they have been, will not always be disappointed. It is in vain therefore to shift the scene. You can no more fly from your enemies, than from yourself. Persecuted abroad, you look into your own heart for consolation, and find nothing but reproaches and despair. But, my Lord, you may quit the field of business, though not the field of danger; and though you cannot be safe, you may cease to be ridiculous. I fear I fear you have listened too long to the advice of those pernicious friends, with whose interests you have sordidly united your own, and for whom you have sacrificed every thing that ought to be dear to a man of honour. They are still base enough to encourage the follies of your age, as they once did the vices of your youth. As little acquainted with the rules of decorum, as with the laws of morality, they will not suffer you to profit by experience, nor even to consult the propriety of a bad character. Even now