Sir Philip Francis, was born in Dublin, 22d October 1740. Leaving Ireland at twelve, he entered St. Paul’s School in London, and at sixteen became a junior clerk in the secretary of state’s office. In 1758 he was a secretary in the expedition against Cherbourg; in 1760 he was secretary on a mission to Portugal; in 1761 he acted as amanuensis to the elder Pitt; and in 1762 he was made first-clerk in the War Office. In 1773 Lord North made him a member of the Council of Bengal; in 1780 he fought a duel with Warren Hastings (with whom he was always at enmity), and was seriously wounded. In 1781 he returned home with a fortune largely acquired by playing whist. He entered parliament in 1784. He was energetic in the proceedings against Hastings, wrote many pamphlets, was eager to be governor-general of India, and was made a K.C.B. in 1806. He was devoted to the prince-regent and a warm supporter of the “Friends of the People.” In 1816 Mr. John Taylor wrote a book identifying Francis with “Junius,” but Francis never acknowledged having written the seventy “Letters,” which appeared in the “Public Advertiser” (21st Jan. 1769–21st Jan. 1772), and were reprinted in 1812 with 113 additional letters. His young second wife, whom he married when seventy-four, was convinced that he must be Junius.

Personal

  Nature had conferred on Francis talents such as are rarely dispensed to any individual—a vast range of ideas, a retentive memory, a classic mind, considerable command of language, energy of thought and expression, matured by age, and actuated by an inextinguishable animosity to Hastings. Francis indeed uniformly disclaimed any personal enmity to the man, only reprobating the measures of the ruler of India; and perhaps he might sincerely believe his assertion. But he always appeared to me, like the son of Livia, to deposit his resentments deep in his own breast; from which he drew them forth, if not augmented by time, at least in all their original vigour and freshness. Acrimony distinguished and characterized him in everything. Even his person, tall, thin, and scantily covered with flesh; his countenance, the lines of which were acute, intelligent, and yet full of meaning; the tones of his voice, sharp, distinct and sonorous; his very gestures, impatient, and irregular—eloquently bespoke the formation of his intellect. I believe I never saw him smile…. Bursting with bile, which tinged and pervaded all his speeches in Parliament, yet his irascibility never overcame his reason; nor compelled his friends, like those of Burke, to mingle regret with their admiration, and to condemn or to pity the individual whom they applauded as an orator. Francis, however inferior he was to Burke in all the flowers of diction, in exuberance of ideas borrowed from antiquity, and in the magic of eloquence, more than once electrified the house, by passages of pathos or of interest which arrested every hearer.

  I was alone with him in his last moments…. Never was a death so worthy of such a life: his spirits composed, tranquil, and even cheerful, his mind apparently as strong as ever and his perception as quick. He expressed his gratitude for all my little attentions and cares during the last sad, solemn night, in the most touching manner. I was not aware at the time, though I now am, that he knew how short his time was. He showed great anxiety that I should not leave him for a moment, no doubt he anticipated my future regrets had I done so; but he never expressed fear or anxiety on any other subject. Towards morning he fell into a trance, from which he revived and spoke to me, and took some refreshment. About ten he fell into a deep sleep, which lasted four hours. I was flattering myself with the hope of his waking much restored; Mrs. Cholmondeley had just left me, when, on a sudden, the breathing I had been listening to so contentedly stopped. I undrew the curtain … not a sigh, not a motion, not a change of countenance. Heart, pulses and breath stopped at once without an effort.

  Sir Philip Francis is best known to the public as the supposed author of the letters signed Junius. Whether he would deserve notice or respect if he were the real Junius, is a question which any one can answer who is intimately acquainted with Francis’s career…. Yet, irrespective of the assumed connexion between Francis and Junius, there is much in Francis’s life which deserves more attention than many readers may suppose. Though not one of the great men whose names shine in the annals of the eighteenth century, and though his place is in the second rank, yet Francis’s career was as varied and interesting as that of many whose names precede and overshadow his on the roll of fame.

  Francis, whether Junius or not, was a man of great ability and unflagging industry; arrogant and vindictive in the extreme; unscrupulous in gratifying his enmities by covert insinuations and false assertions, yet courageous in attacking great men; rigid and even pedantic in his adherence to a set of principles which had their generous side; really scornful of meanness and corruption in others; and certainly doing much to vindicate the power of public opinion, although from motives which were not free from selfishness and the narrowest personal ambition. There may have been two such men, whose careers closely coincided during Francis’s most vigorous period; but it seems more probable that there was only one.