Junius Unmasked.

by Joel Moody.

PREFACE.

One hundred years ago to-day, Junius wrote as follows:

"The man who fairly and completely answers this argument, shall have my thanks and my applause.... Grateful as I am to the good Being whose bounty has imparted to me this reasoning intellect, whatever it is, I hold myself proportionably indebted to him from whose enlightened understanding another ray of knowledge communicates to mine. But neither should I think the most exalted faculties of the human mind a gift worthy of the Divinity, nor any a.s.sistance in the improvement of them a subject of grat.i.tude to my fellow-creatures, if I were not satisfied that really to inform the understanding corrects and enlarges the heart."

These were the concluding words of his last Letter. So say I now, and I make them the preface to an argument which now sets the great apostle of liberty right before the world. They serve, like a literary hyphen, to connect the two ages--his own with this; and the two lives--the masked with the open one; in both of which ages and lives he did good to mankind, and that mightily.

WASHINGTON, D.C., _January 21, 1872_.

PART I.

INTRODUCTION.

The literary work which survives a century has uncommon merit. Time has set the seal of approval upon it. It has pa.s.sed its probation and entered the ages. A century has just closed upon the work of Junius. The causes which produced it, either in act or person, have long since pa.s.sed away. The foolish king, the corrupt minister, and the prost.i.tuted legislature are forgotten, or only recalled to be despised; but the work of Junius, startling in thought, daring in design, bristling with satire, a consuming fire to those he attacked, remains to be admired for its principles, and to be studied for its beauty and strength.

The times in which Junius wrote were big with events. The Seven Years'

War had just closed with shining victories to Prussia and England.

Frederic, with an unimpaired nation and a permanent peace, it left with a good heart and much personal glory; but George III., with India and America in his hands, with the plunder of a great conquest to distribute to a greedy and licentious court, it left pious, but simple.

Great wars disturb the ma.s.ses. They awaken them from the plodding, dull routine of physical labor, and, thrusting great questions of conquest and defense, of justice and honor, before them, agitate them into thought. Conditions change; new ideas take the place of old ones, and a revolution in thought and action follows. But a war of ideas, starting from principles of peace, brings the enslaved again to the sword, and this crisis is termed a revolution.

Junius wrote at the dawn of the age of revolutions. The war of ideas was waged against priestcraft, and skepticism was the result. Voltaire had struck fable from history with the pen of criticism, and a scientific method here dawned upon history. Rousseau's democracy had entered the hearts of the down-trodden in France, and, a wandering exile, he had spread the contagion in England. George Berkeley, the Irish idealist, had just died, and the Scotch Thomas Reid arose with the weapon of common sense to test the metaphysician's ideas. Common Sense was, in the strictest sense, revolutionary, and, under the tyranny of king, lords, and commons, meant war. It was not a phrase without meaning, but a principle proclaimed, and it pa.s.sed more readily into the understanding of the common people because conveyed in common speech. When Reid said, "I despise philosophy, and renounce its guidance; let my soul dwell in common sense," he illuminated all Britain and America. The philosophy of common sense entered the professor's chair, invaded the pulpit, and, having pa.s.sed thence into the humblest cottage, soon took a higher range--it went immediately up and knocked at the king's gate. It would be false to say it found admittance there. It was only because there had been a new world opened as an asylum for the oppressed of every land, that it did not sweep kings and monarchs from all the high places in Europe.

At this time, too, Mr. Pitt, the great commoner, the friend of common sense and English liberty, in his old age, war-worn and sick, had compromised with his vanity for a t.i.tle. In his great fall from Pitt to Chatham, from the people to a peerage, he gained nothing but lost his good name. He exchanged worth for a bauble, and a n.o.ble respect for the contempt of n.o.bles and the sorrows of the people. Mr. Pitt had departed, Lord Chatham was pa.s.sing away; and in any a.s.sault by a trafficking ministry and corrupt legislature upon the people's rights, there was no one left to bend the bow at the gates.

To tax the colonies became the settled plan of king, ministers, and parliament. The tax was easily imposed, but could not be enforced.

Freedom had long before been driven to America, and, in a line of direct descent, her blood had been transmitted from mother to son. The true sons of freedom now stood shoulder to shoulder, and, looking forward to independence, claimed to have rights as men, which king and lords would not concede to subjects. The Stamp Act was pa.s.sed and repealed, and a Test Act subst.i.tuted. England refused to compel the colonies to give up their money without their consent, but menaced them, and consoled herself with these words: "_The king in parliament hath full power to bind the colonies in all things whatsoever._" Having surrendered the fact, she indulged in declamation, and the world laughed at her folly.

Like a fretful and stupid mother demanding a favor of her son grown to manhood, and, being refused, persists in scolding and shaking the fist at him, as if he still wore a baby's frock.

At this juncture Junius wrote his LETTERS. The circ.u.mstances called him forth. He was a child of fate. He spoke to the greatest personages, a.s.saulted the strongest power, and advocated the rights of man before the highest tribunal then acknowledged on earth. This he could not do openly, and what he said came as with the power of a hidden G.o.d. There is no evidence that Junius ever revealed himself. "I am the sole depository of my own secret, and it shall perish with me." This he said and religiously kept. But his was the age which demanded it. He also said: "Whenever Junius appears, he must encounter a host of enemies."

One hundred years have pa.s.sed since he said this, but this "host" is less to be feared now than when he wrote. No one now can injure him, and there are few who would a.s.sault his grave. It is time to unmask Junius, and though still to be hated, I will reveal the enemy of kings and the friend of man. The reforms he advocated for England are partly accomplished, and the principles he taught, if not adopted there, have been established in America. He left no child to bear his name, but he was the father of a nation. The unimpaired inheritance was his thoughts and principles; these he transmitted, not alone to this nation, but to the world--_for the world was his country_.

METHOD.

In the investigation of a subject so startling and novel, and especially when it leads to the criticism of a work which has found favor with the public, and now to be attributed to an author who has been publicly condemned, it becomes the critic to state clearly the plan of his argument, what he designs to do, and how he intends to do it. I therefore ask: Who was Junius? I answer: Thomas Paine. The object of this book is to prove this, and possibly to demonstrate it. To do this, I shall follow as closely as possible the order of events, giving parallels and coincidences in character, conduct, and composition of the masked and the open life.

I do not fear as to the proof of my proposition, but I shall aim higher, I shall try to demonstrate by the overwhelming weight of facts. Proof produces belief, demonstration knowledge. The innocent have been hanged on the evidence of proof, but a fact is established by demonstration.

Demonstration follows proof, and knowledge follows belief; and ascending from the individual to mankind, we find the age of reason to succeed the age of faith. Science dwells in demonstration, and establishes principles from observed facts. Why may there not be a scientific criticism? To arrive at this the writer must ascend to that eminence in feeling where the opposing prejudices of mankind can not reach him; he must rise above praise or censure, he must dwell alone in the light of reason, he must be a child of Truth. Vain, however, would it be to expect to find himself or a public devoid of prejudice. This is impossible, for prejudice is produced by strong conviction. It is a feeling which, like a magnet, points as the electric force directs. To counteract this force is to destroy the magnet. It is those who think deeply, and have investigated thoroughly, who have an enlightened prejudice, and those who take upon authority what others tell them, who have a blind prejudice; but those who neither think nor investigate for themselves may truly be said to have no prejudice. My object is to convince the understanding and thereby build up a prejudice in favor of my proposition, which shall have a foundation of fact and argument, not to be removed, and to be but little disturbed. The world is my jury, they shall decide upon the facts. Lord Bacon gave the world a _method_, this method is also mine: LET FACTS REVEAL THE INWARD TRUTH OF NATURE.

MYSTERY.

There is a scarcity of facts, a painful obscurity connected with that part of Mr. Paine's life before he removed to America. In fact, history has given him to the world, as almost beginning life on his arrival at Philadelphia, near the close of the year 1774. At this time, in the full stature of manhood, a little less than forty years of age, we find him without a personal history, without any events in life sufficient to predicate his after life upon. Can the great life to come rest on nothing? How came that mighty mind so fully stored with history, so deeply a.n.a.lytic, so skilled in literature and science, so perfect in the art of expressing ideas, so highly disciplined and finely equipped, ready to do battle against kings and ministers and in behalf of human rights? Whence came that mighty pen, which has often been acknowledged to have done more for human freedom than the sword of Washington? Why this dumb silence of history? There comes to us no thought of Mr. Paine worth recording prior to this time. The proud and imposing superstructure stands on a basis fit and substantial, but it rises out of the depths of mystery. And what little we do know of him prior to this time, aside from the great fact of his birth, is only a series of minor facts, with great blanks not even capable of being filled up by the imagination.

When a lad he went to school, but how long he went, or with what proficiency he studied, n.o.body knows. At sixteen he went aboard a privateer, but how long he served, or what made him quit the service, n.o.body knows. At twenty-seven he enters the employ of the English government as an exciseman, but was dismissed in a little over a year, n.o.body knows why. He now teaches school in London a year, but n.o.body knows with what success, or what were his accomplishments. He now quits London and letters, and the society of the learned, to return to the same petty office from which he had been dismissed, and for the trifling salary of less than fifty pounds a year. This office he now holds eight years more. Only a solitary ray of light illuminates this long period, when in the full tide of life. The chronicler renders it insignificant by a single dash of the pen. It is closed with another dismissal and dismal mystery. He now forever separates from his wife upon _amicable terms_, n.o.body knows why. During their after lives they neither of them marry, and never speak disrespectfully of each other. He leaves her all the property, and often sends her money during his after life. This obscure and twice dismissed English exciseman, it is said, now goes to talk with Benjamin Franklin, minister at the court of St. James, for several of the colonies; and, by what means n.o.body knows, obtains letters of the highest commendation, as an introduction to America, from her greatest and most honored citizen. A few months afterward Benjamin Franklin places in the hands of Mr. Paine important doc.u.ments, for him to write a history of the political troubles and a defense of the colonies. A mighty work, worthy of a greater than Franklin! These facts stagger credulity. An obscure English exciseman, whose life is yet a blank, who has never been an author, save perhaps of some fugitive pamphlet to demand more pay for excise officers, is _introduced_ to America, and is _solicited_ and _intrusted_ by America's greatest writer, thinker, patriot, and statesman, to do America's greatest work, and that work, too, which shall decide forever the fate of a world.

Franklin! by what mysterious gift of divination hast thou found thy man?

Is there no child of America among all the sons of Freedom equal to the task? Where art thou thyself? But the man Franklin found had no need of books or his doc.u.ments. This obscure Englishman had the facts in his memory, the wrongs in his heart, the logic in his reason, and he thought for himself. His work was half written before Franklin had furnished him with the "necessary papers," and as a New Year's gift surprised the learned doctor with the first pamphlet of COMMON SENSE.

The appearance of this greatest of political works which has blessed a world, with all the attending circ.u.mstances--the obscure life of Paine, the few wild events connected with it, the unprecedented action of Franklin, the introduction to the world of a profound thinker and almost perfect writer in the full ripeness of his intellect, and the beginning of an unceasing brilliant literary life _at its meridian_, are mysteries, save in this instance, unknown to history. COMMON SENSE is a child of mystery. It is the best of this great author's productions. He himself so considered it, for he directs that his tombstone shall bear the simple inscription, THOMAS PAINE, AUTHOR OF COMMON SENSE.

That Thomas Paine should have lived an easy, idle life, without any great effort in thought, study, or composition, for fifteen years immediately preceding the appearance of COMMON SENSE, is what no writer, or thinker, or student, or statesman will believe. Great works of genius do not come in this way, much less profound political writings. Even inspiration would desert the connection. And that the proud, ambitious, literary adventurer, who shall dedicate his life to the good of mankind, who shall wrest the power from priests and the scepter from kings, should content himself to fill a poor and petty office under a king he despised, without some n.o.bler object in view, and at that age too when the mind of man is the most aspiring, and drives to the greatest activity, is what no one who knows the heart of man, and the secret springs of action, will believe. But if it can be proven that Thomas Paine was Junius, then will every blank be filled and every mystery dispelled.

There is no external evidence, direct in its nature, as to the authorship of Junius; the evidence is internal. That the secret did not perish with Junius, no one can gainsay. But that he told it to no one, we are not at liberty to conclude. Time has sufficiently removed us from the scene of conflict. We are not bewildered with a mult.i.tude of claimants, with an army of witnesses for and against; nor are we disturbed by the clamors of the public, and the hearsay evidence of belligerant. In this universal calm I will bring Junius forth to speak for himself.

STATEMENT.

The time occupied in writing the LETTERS OF JUNIUS was just three years.

The first one is dated January 21, 1769, and the last one January 21, 1772. They were written for the _Public Advertiser_, a newspaper printed in London, and were afterward revised and corrected by Junius. The edition which he corrected "contains all the letters of Junius, Philo Junius, and of Sir William Draper, and Mr. Horne to Junius, with their respective dates, and according to the order in which they appeared in the _Public Advertiser_." There are sixty-nine in all. Of these, Junius wrote sixty-one; thirty the first year, six the second, and twenty-five the third year. In these LETTERS Junius frequently defends himself over the signature of Philo Junius, which he deemed indispensably necessary in answer to plausible objections. On this point Junius observes: "The subordinate character is never guilty of the indecorum of praising his princ.i.p.al. The fraud was innocent, and I always intended to explain it."

These letters were an attack upon the king and ministry, and a defense of the people, whose original rights had been invaded. If Thomas Paine wrote them, he was then an exciseman stationed at Lewes, about forty miles south of London, and was just thirty-five years old when he completed them.

I will now introduce to the reader Junius himself through his first letter, which was one of his most finished productions, and contains the germs of all the rest. I will give also the comments of Chauncey A.

Goodrich, D.D., formerly professor of Rhetoric in Yale College. These comments are to be found in the doctor's work, ent.i.tled _British Eloquence_. I do this for two reasons: to let the reader see what high value is placed on Junius by the learned who teach eloquence by example, and also that he may see the object, method, and style of Junius. I shall afterward add my own comments on the doctor's notes, setting him right when in error in matters of _fact_. This will fully open the question and prepare the reader for my argument.

LETTER

TO THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER.[A]

SIR,--The submission of a free people to the executive authority of government is no more than a compliance with laws which they themselves have enacted. While the national honor is firmly maintained abroad, and while justice is impartially administered at home, the obedience of the subject will be voluntary, cheerful, and, I might say, almost unlimited.

A generous nation is grateful even for the preservation of its rights, and willingly extends the respect due to the office of a good prince into an affection for his person. Loyalty, in the heart and understanding of an Englishman, is a rational attachment to the guardian of the laws. Prejudices and pa.s.sion have sometimes carried it to a criminal length, and, whatever foreigners may imagine, we know that Englishmen have erred as much in a mistaken zeal for particular persons and families, as they ever did in defense of what they thought most dear and interesting to themselves.