Chap. VI
Singular Anecdote respecting the Author of the Letters of Junius.—Of Lachlan M’Lean.—Anecdote of the Duke of Grafton.—Of the Marquis of Lansdowne.—Of Sir Philip Francis; Critique on the Transfiguration of Raphael by Sir Philip Francis, and Objections to his opinion.
By the eminent station which Mr. West has so long held among the artists, and admirers of the fine arts, in this country, he became personally acquainted with almost every literary man of celebrity; and being for many years a general visitor at the literary club, immortalised as the haunt of Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Goldsmith, and Reynolds, he acquired, without particularly attending to the literature of the day, an extensive acquaintance with the principal topics which, from time to time, engaged the attention of men of letters. An incident, however, of a curious nature, has brought him to be a party, in some degree, with the singular question respecting the mysterious author of the celebrated letters of Junius. On the morning that the first of these famous invectives appeared, his friend Governor Hamilton happened to call, and enquiring the news, Mr. West informed him of that bold and daring epistle: ringing for his servant at the same time, he desired the newspaper to be brought in. Hamilton read it over with great attention, and when he had done, laid it on his knees, in a manner that particularly attracted the notice of the painter, who was standing at his easel. “This letter,” said Hamilton, in a tone of vehement feeling, “is by that damned scoundrel M’Lean.”—“What M’Lean?” enquired Mr. West.—“The surgeon of Otway’s regiment: the fellow who attacked me so virulently in the Philadelphian newspaper, on account of the part I felt it my duty to take, against one of the officers, a captain, for a scandalous breach of the privileges of hospitality, in seducing the wife of a very respectable man. This letter is by him. I know these very words: I may well remember them,” and he read over several phrases and sentences which M’Lean had employed against him. Mr. West then informed the Governor, that M’Lean was in this country, and that he was personally acquainted with him. “He came over,” said Mr. West, “with Colonel Barry, by whom he was introduced to Lord Shelburn, (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne,) and is at present private secretary to His Lordship.”
Throughout the progress of the controversy with Junius, Hamilton remained firm in his opinion, that the author was no other than the same Lachlan M’Lean, but at the literary club the general opinion ascribed the letters for some time to Samuel Dyer. The sequel of this anecdote is curious. M’Lean, owing to a great impediment in his utterance, never made any figure in conversation; and passed with most people as a person of no particular attainments. But when Lord Shelburn came into office, he was appointed Under Secretary of State, and subsequently nominated to a Governorship in India: a rapidity of promotion to a man without family or parliamentary interest, that can only be explained by a profound conviction, on the part of his patron, of his superior talents, and perhaps, also, from a strong sense of some peculiar obligation. M’Lean sailed for India in the Aurora frigate, and was lost, in the wreck of that ship, on the coast of Africa. That the letters of Junius were not ascribed to him by any party is not surprising, for his literary talents were unknown to the public; but the general opinion of all men at the time was that they were the production of some person in connection with Lord Shelburn.
Upon this subject, I hold no particular opinion of my own; nor, indeed, should I have perhaps noticed the circumstance at all, but for a recent most ingenious publication which has ascribed these celebrated letters to the late Sir Philip Francis. One thing, however, merits attention in this curious controversy. In the Monthly Magazine for July, 1813, there is an interesting account of a conversation between Sir Richard Phillips and the Marquis of Lansdowne on this subject; in which His Lordship speaks of the obligation to secrecy imposed on himself in the question as having been removed by death; an incidental expression that at once intimated a knowledge of the author, and that he was dead at the time when this conversation took place. The importance of the matter, as an object of literary curiosity, will excuse the introduction, in an abbreviated form, of what passed at that interview, as well as of some minor circumstances connected with the question.
During the printing of Almon’s edition of Junius, in which he endeavoured to show that the letters were written by a Mr. Walter Boyd, Sir Richard Phillips, the publisher of that work, sought opinions among the characters then surviving, whose names had been mixed with the writings of Junius; and he addressed himself particularly to the Duke of Grafton, the Marquis of Lansdowne, Mr. Horne Tooke, and Mr. Grattan. Through two friends of the Duke of Grafton he was informed, “that His Grace had endeavoured to live down the calumnies of Junius, and to forget the name of the author; and that, at the period of the publication, offers were made to him of legal evidence on which to convict the author of a libel; but that, as he had then treated the man with contempt, he should decline to disturb him after so great a lapse of time.” From this communication it would seem, that the Duke believed that he knew the author, and also that he was still alive.
Sir Richard, on calling upon the Marquis of Lansdowne, to whom he was personally known, found him in his sick chamber, suffering under a general breaking up of the constitution, but in his usual flow of spirits, anecdote, and conversation. On mentioning Almon’s new edition of Junius, and that the editor had fixed on Boyd as the author, the Marquis exclaimed, “I thought Almon had known better: I gave him credit for more discernment: the world will, however, not be deceived by him; for there is higher evidence than his opinion. Look at Boyd’s other writings: he never did write like Junius; and never could write like Junius. Internal evidence destroys the hypothesis of Almon.” Sir Richard then said, that many persons had ascribed these letters to His Lordship; and that the world at large conceived that, at least, he was not unacquainted with the author. The Marquis smiled, and said, “No, no: I am not equal to Junius: I could not be the author; but the grounds of secrecy are now so far removed by death, and changes of circumstances, that it is unnecessary the author of Junius should much longer be unknown. The world are curious about him; and I could make a very interesting publication on the subject. I knew Junius; and I knew all about the writing and production of those letters. But look at my own condition now: I don’t think I can live another week: my legs, my strength, tell me so; but the doctors, who always flatter sick men, assure me I am in no immediate danger. They order me into the country, and I am going there. If I live over the summer, which, however, I do not expect, I promise you a very interesting pamphlet about Junius. I will put my name to it: I will set that question at rest for ever.”
Sir Richard looked at the swollen limbs and other symptoms threatening the dissolution of this distinguished nobleman; and, convinced that he was, in truth, never likely to see him again, and that the secret of Junius might be lost with him, turned the conversation to the various persons who had, at different times, been named as the Junius; and, after mentioning five or six whose respective pretensions the Marquis treated as ridiculous, His Lordship said, “It is of no use to pursue the matter further at this time. I will, however, tell you this for your guide, Junius has never yet been publicly named. None of the parties ever guessed at as Junius were the true Junius. Nobody has ever suspected him. I knew him, and knew all about it; and I pledge myself, if these legs will permit me, to give you a pamphlet on the subject, as soon as I feel myself equal to the labour.” Sir Richard soon after took his leave; and about a week after the Marquis expired.
From Horne Tooke no information could be obtained: whenever Junius was mentioned, he lost the balance of his mind, and indulged himself in so much vanity, conceit, and ingenuity, that it was almost useless to speak with him on the subject.
Mr. Grattan wrote a very candid denial of any knowledge of the matter, in a letter which was printed in the preface to Almon’s edition.
Of the pretension afterwards set forward for Dr. Wilmot, I believe it was never entertained or supported by any good evidence: Dr. Francis, the father of Sir Philip, had been long before mentioned, but for what reason I have never been able to ascertain. The answer of Sir Philip himself on the subject is, however, curiously equivocal, at least it so strikes me; although it is generally considered as a decided denial. It is as follows: “The great civility of your letter induces me to answer it, which, with reference merely to its subject-matter, I should have declined. Whether you will assist in giving currency to a silly, malignant falsehood, is a question for your own discretion: to me it is a matter of perfect indifference.” But notwithstanding all this, an amusingly mysterious circumstance has, I am informed, transpired since the death of Sir Philip. In a box, it is said, which he carefully deposited with his banker’s, and which was not to be opened till after his death, a copy of the publication, “Junius identified,” with a common copy of the letters of Junius, were found. I shall offer no comment on this occurrence, for even granting that it was true, it might have been but a playful trick—if Sir Philip Francis was, in any respect, a humorist. But I have already digressed too far from the immediate object of my work; and I cannot make a better amends to my readers than by inserting here a short paper, written by that eminent person, and addressed to Mr. West. It is a critique on the Transfiguration by Raphael, in which Sir Philip evinces considerable ingenuity, by attempting not only to explain a defect in the composition, felt by every man of taste, in the midst of the delight which, in other respects, it never fails to produce, but to show that, so far from being any defect, it is in fact a great beauty.
Transfiguration by Raphael.
The title of this picture is a misnomer. The picture itself tells you it is the Ascension. The Transfiguration is another incident, which happened long before the Ascension, and is recited in the ninth chapter of St. Luke:—“When the countenance of Jesus was changed, and he became ετεϑον and his clothing was white, and lightened.” The robe of the ascending Christ is blue.
The painter brings different incidents together to constitute one plot. The picture consists of three separate groupes, combined and united in one scheme or action.
I. Jesus ascending perpendicularly into the air, clothed in blue raiment, and attended by two other figures.
II. Some of his disciples on the Mount, who see the ascent, and lie dazzled and confounded by the sight.
III. A number of persons at the bottom of the Mount, who appear to look intently on a young man possessed by a devil, and convulsed. None of them see the Ascension but the young man, or rather the devil, who was in him, does see it. On all similar occasions, those fallen angels know the Christ, and acknowledge him. The other figures are agitated with astonishment and terror, variously and distinctly expressed in every one of them, at sight of the effect which they see is made upon him by some object which they do not see.
This is the sublime imagination, by which the lower part of the picture is connected with the upper.
P. FRANCIS.
13th July, 1816.
But although it must be confessed that this comment is exceedingly ingenious, in so far as it explains the painter’s design in representing the demoniac boy, as the connecting link between the action on the Mount, and the groupe at the foot of it; yet, upon an examination of the picture, it will be found that it does not exhibit the Ascension, but the Transfiguration; and I beg leave to refer to a letter, from my friend Mr. M’Gillivray, in the Appendix which seems to me as perfectly satisfactory on the subject as any thing of the kind I ever met with. Mr. West was of the same opinion as Mr. M’Gillivray; but in conversing with him on the subject, he did not enter into so distinct an explanation of his reasons for dissenting from the speculation of Sir Philip Francis. In criticism, however, whether the matter in question be works of art, or of literature, the best opinion is exactly that which is the most reasonable; and the point at issue here, is not one in which an artist’s judgment can be allowed greater weight than that of any other man.