ration of an injury, are as different in substance as they are in language. The very act of restitution may contain, as in this instance, it palpably does, a shameful aggravation of the injury. A man of spirit does not measure the degree of an injury by the mere positive damage he has sustained; he considers the principle on which it is founded; he resents the superiority assert. ed over him; and rejects, with indignation, the claim of right which his adversary endeavours to establish, and would force him to acknowledge.

The motives on which the Catholic King makes restitution, are, if possible, more insolent and disgraceful to our Sovereign, than even the declaratory condition annexed to it. After taking four months to consider whether the ex-pedition was undertaken by his own orders or not, he condescends to disavow the enterprise, and to restore the island: not from any regard to justice, not from any regard he bears to his Britannic Majesty, but merely from the persua sion in which he is of the pacific sentiments of the King of Great Britain.

At this rate, if onr King had discovered the spirit of a man; if he had made a peremptory demand of satisfaction, the King of Spain would have given him a peremptory refusal. But why this unseasonable, this ridiculous mention of the King of Great Britain's pacific intentions? Have they ever been in question? Was he the aggressor? Does he attack foreign powers without provocation? Does he even resist, when he is insulted? No, Sir; if any ideas of strife or hostility have entered his royal mind, they have a very different direction. The enemies of Eng land have nothing to fear from them.

After all, Sir, to what kind of disavowal has the King of Spain at last consented? Supposing it made in proper time, it should have been ac

companied with instant restitution: and if Mr. Buccarelli acted without orders, he deserved death. Now, Sir, instead of immediate restitution, we have a four month's negociation: and the officer, whose act is disavowed, returns to court, and is loaded with honours.

If the actual situation of Europe be considered, the treachery of the King's servants, particularly of Lord North, who takes the whole upon himself, will appear in the strongest colours of aggravation. Our allies were masters of the Mediterranean. The king of France's present aversion from war, and the distraction of his affairs, are notorious. Ile is now in a state of war with his people. In vain did the Catholic King solicit him to take part in the quarrel against us. IIis finances were in the last disorder; and it was probable that his troops might find sufficient employment at home. In these circumstances, we might have dictated the law to Spain. There are no terms to which she might not have been compelled to submit. At the worst, a war with Spain alone carries the fairest promise of advantage. One good effect, at least, would have been immediately produced by it. The desertion of France would have irritated her ally, and, in all probability, have dissolved the family compact. The scene is now fatally changed. The advantage is thrown away. The most favourable opportunity is lost. Hereafter we shall know the value of it. When the French King is reconciled to his subjects-when Spain has completed her preparations--when the collected strength of the House of Bourbon attacks us at once, the King himself will be able to determine upon the wisdom or imprudence of his present conduct. As far as the probability of argument extends, we may safely pronounce, that a conjuncture which threatens the very being of this country,

has been wilfully prepared and forwarded by our own Ministry. How far the people may be animated to resistance, under the present administration, I know not; but this I know, with certainty, that, under the present administra. tion, or if any thing like it should continue, it is of very little moment whether we are a conquered nation or not..

Having travelled thus far in the high road of matter of fact, I may now be permitted to wan der a little into the field of imagination. Let us banish from our minds the persuasion, that these events have really happened in the reign of the best of Princes; let us consider them as nothing more than the materials of a fable, in which we may conceive the Sovereign of some other country to be concerned. I mean to violate all the laws of probability, when I suppose that this imaginary King, after having volunta

The King's acceptance of the Spanish ambassador's declaration is drawn up in barbarous French, and signed by the Earl of Rochford. This diplomatic Lord has spent his life in the study and practice of etiquettes, and is supposed to be a profound master of the ceremonies. I will not insult him by any reference to gram. mar or common sense: if he were even acquainted with the common forms of his office, I should think him as well qualified for it as any man in his Majesty's service. The reader is requested to observe Lord Rochford's method of anthenticating a public instrument..." En foi "de quoi, moi soussigne, un des principaux Se"cretaires d' Etat S. M. B. ai signe la presente "de ma signature ordinaire, et icelle fait op

poser le cachet de nos Armes." In three lines there are no less than seven false concords. But the man does not even know the style of his office. If he had known it, he would have said, "Nous, soussigne Secretaire d' Etat de 8. M. B. avons signe," &c.

rily disgraced himself in the eyes of his subjects, might return to a sense of his dishonour; that he might perceive the snare laid for him by his Ministers, and feel a spark of shame kindling in his breast. The part he must then be obliged to act would overwhelm him with confusion. To his Parliament he must say, I called you together to receive your advice, and have never asked your opinion.-To the merchant, I have distressed your commerce: I have dragged your seamen out of your ships; I have loaded you with a grievous weight of insurances.--To the landholder, I told you war was too probable, when I was determined to submit to any terms of accommodation; I extorted new taxes from you, before it was possible they could be wanted, and am now unable to account for the application of them. To the public creditor, I have delivered up your fortune a prey to foreigners, and to the vilest of your fellow subjects. Perhaps this repenting Prince might conclude with one general acknowledgment to them all: I have involved every rank of ny subjects in anxiety and distress; and have nothing to offer you, in return, but the certainty of national dishonour, an armed truce, and peace without security.

If these accounts were settled, there would still remain an apology to be made to his navy and to his army. To the first he would say,--You were once the terror of the world. But go back to your harbours. A man, dishonoured as I am, has no use for your service. It is not probable that he would appear again before his soldiers, even in the pacific ceremony of a review. But, wherever he appeared, the humiliating confession would be extorted from

A mistake: he appears before them every day, with a mark of a blow upon his face. Prok pudor!

him: I have received a blow, and had not spirit to resent it. I demanded satisfaction, and have accepted a declaration, in which the right to strike me again is asserted and confirmed. His countenance, at least, would speak this language, and even his guards would blush for him.

I am

But to return to our argument. The Ministry, it seems, are labouring to draw a line of distinction between the honour of the crown and the rights of the people. This new idea has yet only been started in discourse; for, in effect, both objects have been equally sacriticed. I neither understand the distinction, nor what use the Ministry propose to make of it. The King's honour is that of his people. Their real honour and real interest are the same. not contending for a vain punctilio. A clear, unblemished character comprehends not only the integrity that will not offer, hut the spirit that will not submit to an injury; and whether it belongs to an individual, or to a community, it is the foundation of peace, of independence, and of safety. Private credit is wealth; public honour is security. The feather that adoins the royal bird, supports his flight. Strip him of his plumage, and you fix him to the earth.

JUNIUS.

LETTER XLIII.

1

TO THE

Frinter of the Public Advertiser.

SIR,

February 6, 1771.

HOPE your Correspondent Junius is better employed than in answering or reading the cri