Part 1: Chapters I - VIIThe Project Gutenberg Etext of The Writings of Thomas Paine Vol. Iby Thomas PaineSkip the legalese and go to the text (#2 in our series by Thomas Paine)
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.
Please do not remove this.
This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book.
Do not change or edit it without written permission. The words
are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they
need about what they can legally do with the texts.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below, including for donations.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3)
organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541
Title: The Writings of Thomas Paine Vol. I
Author: Thomas Paine
Release Date: February, 2003 [Etext #3741]
[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule]
[The actual date this file first posted = 8/14/01]
Edition: 10
Language: English
The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Writings of Thomas Paine Vol. I
by Thomas Paine
******This file should be named twtp110.txt or twtp110.zip******
Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, twtp111.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, twtp110a.txt
Produced by Norman M. Wolcott
Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any
of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition.
We are now trying to release all our books one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to send us error messages even years after
the official publication date.
Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.
Most people start at our sites at:
http://gutenberg.net
http://promo.net/pg
Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement
can surf to them as follows, and just download by date; this is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.
http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03
or
ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03
Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90
Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release fifty new Etext
files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 3000+
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.
At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts unless we
manage to get some real funding.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.
We need your donations more than ever!
As of July 12, 2001 contributions are only being solicited from people in:
Arkansas, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho,
Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Minnesota,
Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, Nevada, New Jersey, New York, North
Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota,
Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia,
Wisconsin, and Wyoming.
We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.
As the requirements for other states are met,
additions to this list will be made and fund raising
will begin in the additional states. Please feel
free to ask to check the status of your state.
In answer to various questions we have received on this:
We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork
to legally request donations in all 50 states. If
your state is not listed and you would like to know
if we have added it since the list you have, just ask.
While we cannot solicit donations from people in
states where we are not yet registered, we know
of no prohibition against accepting donations
from donors in these states who approach us with
an offer to donate.
International donations are accepted,
but we don't know ANYTHING about how
to make them tax-deductible, or
even if they CAN be made deductible,
and don't have the staff to handle it
even if there are ways.
All donations should be made to:
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739 University Ave.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3)
organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541,
and has been approved as a 501(c)(3) organization by the US Internal
Revenue Service (IRS). Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum
extent permitted by law. As the requirements for other states are met,
additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the
additional states.
We need your donations more than ever!
You can get up to date donation information at:
http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html
***
If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:
Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org
if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if
it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . .
Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.
We would prefer to send you information by email.
***
Example command-line FTP session:
ftp ftp.ibiblio.org
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
cd etext90 through etext99 or etext00 through etext02, etc.
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
**The Legal Small Print**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext,
or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word
processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to
let us know your plans and to work out the details.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.
The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox.com
[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart
and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.]
[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales
of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or
software or any other related product without express permission.]
*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.07/27/01*END*
Produced by Norman M. Wolcott
[Redactor's Note: Reprinted from the "The Writings of Thomas Paine
Volume I" (1894 - 1896). The author's notes are preceded by a "*". ]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
THE WRITINGS
OF
THOMAS PAINE
COLLECTED AND EDITED BY
MONCURE DANIEL CONWAY
VOLUME I.
1774 - 1779
--------------------------------------------------------------------
XIX.
THE AMERICAN CRISIS
Table of Contents
Editor's Preface
The Crisis No. I
The Crisis No. II - To Lord Howe
The Crisis No. III
The Crisis No. IV
The Crisis No. V - To General Sir William Howe
- To The Inhabitants Of America
The Crisis No. VI - To The Earl Of Carlisle, General Clinton, And
William Eden, ESQ., British Commissioners At New York
The Crisis No. VII - To The People Of England
The Crisis No. VIII - Addressed To The People Of England
The Crisis No. IX - The Crisis Extraordinary - On the Subject
of Taxation
The Crisis No. X - On The King Of England's Speech
- To The People Of America
The Crisis No. XI - On The Present State Of News
- A Supernumerary Crisis (To Sir Guy Carleton.)
The Crisis No. XII - To The Earl Of Shelburne
The Crisis No. XIII - On The Peace, And The Probable Advantages
Thereof
A Supernumerary Crisis - (To The People Of America)
--------------------------------------------------------------------
THE AMERICAN CRISIS.
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
THOMAS PAINE, in his Will, speaks of this work as The American
Crisis, remembering perhaps that a number of political pamphlets had
appeared in London, 1775-1776, under general title of " The Crisis."
By the blunder of an early English publisher of Paine's writings, one
essay in the London " Crisis " was attributed to Paine, and the error
has continued to cause confusion. This publisher was D. I. Eaton, who
printed as the first number of Paine's " Crisis " an essay taken from
the London publication. But his prefatory note says: " Since the
printing of this book, the publisher is informed that No. 1, or first
Crisis in this publication, is not one of the thirteen which Paine
wrote, but a letter previous to them." Unfortunately this correction
is sufficiently equivocal to leave on some minds the notion that
Paine did write the letter in question, albeit not as a number of his
" Crisis " ; especially as Eaton's editor unwarrantably appended the
signature " C. S.," suggesting " Common Sense." There are, however,
no such letters in the London essay, which is signed " Casca." It was
published August , 1775, in the form of a letter to General Gage, in
answer to his Proclamation concerning the affair at Lexington. It was
certainly not written by Paine. It apologizes for the Americans for
having, on April I9, at Lexington, made " an attack upon the King's
troops from behind walls and lurking holes." The writer asks : " Have
not the Americans been driven to this frenzy? Is it not common for an
enemy to take every advantage ? " Paine, who was in America when the
affair occurred at Lexington, would have promptly denounced Gage's
story as a falsehood, but the facts known to every one in America
were as yet not before the London writer. The English " Crisis "
bears evidence throughout of having been written in London. It
derived nothing from Paine, and he derived nothing from it, unless
its title, and this is too obvious for its origin to require
discussion. I have no doubt, however, that the title was suggested by
the English publication, because Paine has followed its scheme in
introducing a " Crisis Extraordinary." His work consists of thirteen
numbers, and, in addition to these, a " Crisis Extraordinary "and a "
Supernumerary Crisis." In some modern collections all of these have
been serially numbered, and a brief newspaper article added, making
sixteen numbers. But Paine, in his Will, speaks of the number as
thirteen, wishing perhaps, in his characteristic way, to adhere to
the number of the American Colonies, as he did in the thirteen ribs
of his iron bridge. His enumeration is therefore followed in the
present volume, and the numbers printed successively, although other
writings intervened.
The first " Crisis " was printed in the Pennsylvania Journal,
December 19, 1776, and opens with the famous sentence, " These are
the times that try men's souls"; the last " Crisis "appeared April
19,1783, (eighth anniversary of the first gun of the war, at
Lexington,) and opens with the words, " The times that tried men's
souls are over." The great effect produced by Paine's successive
publications has been attested by Washington and Franklin, by every
leader of the American Revolution, by resolutions of Congress, and by
every contemporary historian of the events amid which they were
written. The first " Crisis " is of especial historical interest. It
was written during the retreat of Washington across the Delaware, and
by order of the Commander was read to groups of his dispirited and
suffering soldiers. Its opening sentence was adopted as the watchword
of the movement on Trenton, a few days after its publication, and is
believed to have inspired much of the courage which won that victory,
which, though not imposing in extent, was of great moral effect on
Washington's little army.
THE CRISIS
I.
THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the
sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of
their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and
thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered;
yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict,
the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem
too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.
Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would
be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be
highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has
declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but "to BIND us in
ALL CASES WHATSOEVER," and if being bound in that manner, is not
slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even
the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only
to God.
Whether the independence of the continent was declared too soon, or
delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argument; my own
simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would
have been much better. We did not make a proper use of last winter,
neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. However, the
fault, if it were one, was all our own*; we have none to blame but
ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet. All that Howe has been
doing for this month past, is rather a ravage than a conquest, which
the spirit of the Jerseys, a year ago, would have quickly repulsed,
and which time and a little resolution will soon recover.
* The present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed; but, if
lost or neglected, the whole continent will partake of the evil; and
there is no punishment that man does not deserve, be he who, or what,
or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so
precious and useful.
I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret
opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give
up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to
perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the
calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent.
Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that He
has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the
care of devils; and as I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the
king of Britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common
murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pretence as
he.
'Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run through
a country. All nations and ages have been subject to them. Britain
has trembled like an ague at the report of a French fleet of
flat-bottomed boats; and in the fourteenth [fifteenth] century the
whole English army, after ravaging the kingdom of France, was driven
back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was
performed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman,
Joan of Arc. Would that heaven might inspire some Jersey maid to
spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers from
ravage and ravishment! Yet panics, in some cases, have their uses;
they produce as much good as hurt. Their duration is always short;
the mind soon grows through them, and acquires a firmer habit than
before. But their peculiar advantage is, that they are the
touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring things and men to
light, which might otherwise have lain forever undiscovered. In fact,
they have the same effect on secret traitors, which an imaginary
apparition would have upon a private murderer. They sift out the
hidden thoughts of man, and hold them up in public to the world. Many
a disguised Tory has lately shown his head, that shall penitentially
solemnize with curses the day on which Howe arrived upon the Delaware.
As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched with them to the
edge of Pennsylvania, I am well acquainted with many circumstances,
which those who live at a distance know but little or nothing of. Our
situation there was exceedingly cramped, the place being a narrow
neck of land between the North River and the Hackensack. Our force
was inconsiderable, being not one-fourth so great as Howe could bring
against us. We had no army at hand to have relieved the garrison, had
we shut ourselves up and stood on our defence. Our ammunition, light
artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been removed, on the
apprehension that Howe would endeavor to penetrate the Jerseys, in
which case Fort Lee could be of no use to us; for it must occur to
every thinking man, whether in the army or not, that these kind of
field forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in use no
longer than the enemy directs his force against the particular object
which such forts are raised to defend. Such was our situation and
condition at Fort Lee on the morning of the 20th of November, when an
officer arrived with information that the enemy with 200 boats had
landed about seven miles above; Major General [Nathaniel] Green, who
commanded the garrison, immediately ordered them under arms, and sent
express to General Washington at the town of Hackensack, distant by
the way of the ferry = six miles. Our first object was to secure the
bridge over the Hackensack, which laid up the river between the enemy
and us, about six miles from us, and three from them. General
Washington arrived in about three-quarters of an hour, and marched at
the head of the troops towards the bridge, which place I expected we
should have a brush for; however, they did not choose to dispute it
with us, and the greatest part of our troops went over the bridge,
the rest over the ferry, except some which passed at a mill on a
small creek, between the bridge and the ferry, and made their way
through some marshy grounds up to the town of Hackensack, and there
passed the river. We brought off as much baggage as the wagons could
contain, the rest was lost. The simple object was to bring off the
garrison, and march them on till they could be strengthened by the
Jersey or Pennsylvania militia, so as to be enabled to make a stand.
We staid four days at Newark, collected our out-posts with some of
the Jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the enemy, on being
informed that they were advancing, though our numbers were greatly
inferior to theirs. Howe, in my little opinion, committed a great
error in generalship in not throwing a body of forces off from Staten
Island through Amboy, by which means he might have seized all our
stores at Brunswick, and intercepted our march into Pennsylvania; but
if we believe the power of hell to be limited, we must likewise
believe that their agents are under some providential control.
I shall not now attempt to give all the particulars of our retreat to
the Delaware; suffice it for the present to say, that both officers
and men, though greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without
rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable consequences of a long
retreat, bore it with a manly and martial spirit. All their wishes
centred in one, which was, that the country would turn out and help
them to drive the enemy back. Voltaire has remarked that King William
never appeared to full advantage but in difficulties and in action;
the same remark may be made on General Washington, for the character
fits him. There is a natural firmness in some minds which cannot be
unlocked by trifles, but which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of
fortitude; and I reckon it among those kind of public blessings,
which we do not immediately see, that God hath blessed him with
uninterrupted health, and given him a mind that can even flourish
upon care.
I shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous remarks on the
state of our affairs; and shall begin with asking the following
question, Why is it that the enemy have left the New England
provinces, and made these middle ones the seat of war? The answer is
easy: New England is not infested with Tories, and we are. I have
been tender in raising the cry against these men, and used numberless
arguments to show them their danger, but it will not do to sacrifice
a world either to their folly or their baseness. The period is now
arrived, in which either they or we must change our sentiments, or
one or both must fall. And what is a Tory? Good God! what is he? I
should not be afraid to go with a hundred Whigs against a thousand
Tories, were they to attempt to get into arms. Every Tory is a
coward; for servile, slavish, self-interested fear is the foundation
of Toryism; and a man under such influence, though he may be cruel,
never can be brave.
But, before the line of irrecoverable separation be drawn between us,
let us reason the matter together: Your conduct is an invitation to
the enemy, yet not one in a thousand of you has heart enough to join
him. Howe is as much deceived by you as the American cause is injured
by you. He expects you will all take up arms, and flock to his
standard, with muskets on your shoulders. Your opinions are of no use
to him, unless you support him personally, for 'tis soldiers, and not
Tories, that he wants.
I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel,
against the mean principles that are held by the Tories: a noted one,
who kept a tavern at Amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty
a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as I ever saw,
and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent,
finished with this unfatherly expression, "Well! give me peace in my
day." Not a man lives on the continent but fully believes that a
separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous
parent should have said, "If there must be trouble, let it be in my
day, that my child may have peace;" and this single reflection, well
applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. Not a place upon
earth might be so happy as America. Her situation is remote from all
the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with
them. A man can distinguish himself between temper and principle, and
I am as confident, as I am that God governs the world, that America
will never be happy till she gets clear of foreign dominion. Wars,
without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the
continent must in the end be conqueror; for though the flame of
liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal can never expire.
America did not, nor does not want force; but she wanted a proper
application of that force. Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and
it is no wonder that we should err at the first setting off. From an
excess of tenderness, we were unwilling to raise an army, and trusted
our cause to the temporary defence of a well-meaning militia. A
summer's experience has now taught us better; yet with those troops,
while they were collected, we were able to set bounds to the progress
of the enemy, and, thank God! they are again assembling. I always
considered militia as the best troops in the world for a sudden
exertion, but they will not do for a long campaign. Howe, it is
probable, will make an attempt on this city [Philadelphia]; should he
fail on this side the Delaware, he is ruined. If he succeeds, our
cause is not ruined. He stakes all on his side against a part on
ours; admitting he succeeds, the consequence will be, that armies
from both ends of the continent will march to assist their suffering
friends in the middle states; for he cannot go everywhere, it is
impossible. I consider Howe as the greatest enemy the Tories have; he
is bringing a war into their country, which, had it not been for him
and partly for themselves, they had been clear of. Should he now be
expelled, I wish with all the devotion of a Christian, that the names
of Whig and Tory may never more be mentioned; but should the Tories
give him encouragement to come, or assistance if he come, I as
sincerely wish that our next year's arms may expel them from the
continent, and the Congress appropriate their possessions to the
relief of those who have suffered in well-doing. A single successful
battle next year will settle the whole. America could carry on a two
years' war by the confiscation of the property of disaffected
persons, and be made happy by their expulsion. Say not that this is
revenge, call it rather the soft resentment of a suffering people,
who, having no object in view but the good of all, have staked their
own all upon a seemingly doubtful event. Yet it is folly to argue
against determined hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the
language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compassion, but nothing can
reach the heart that is steeled with prejudice.
Quitting this class of men, I turn with the warm ardor of a friend to
those who have nobly stood, and are yet determined to stand the
matter out: I call not upon a few, but upon all: not on this state or
that state, but on every state: up and help us; lay your shoulders to
the wheel; better have too much force than too little, when so great
an object is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that in
the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive,
that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came
forth to meet and to repulse it. Say not that thousands are gone,
turn out your tens of thousands; throw not the burden of the day upon
Providence, but "show your faith by your works," that God may bless
you. It matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold,
the evil or the blessing will reach you all. The far and the near,
the home counties and the back, the rich and the poor, will suffer or
rejoice alike. The heart that feels not now is dead; the blood of his
children will curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a
little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the
man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from
distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little
minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience
approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. My own
line of reasoning is to myself as straight and clear as a ray of
light. Not all the treasures of the world, so far as I believe, could
have induced me to support an offensive war, for I think it murder;
but if a thief breaks into my house, burns and destroys my property,
and kills or threatens to kill me, or those that are in it, and to
"bind me in all cases whatsoever" to his absolute will, am I to
suffer it? What signifies it to me, whether he who does it is a king
or a common man; my countryman or not my countryman; whether it be
done by an individual villain, or an army of them? If we reason to
the root of things we shall find no difference; neither can any just
cause be assigned why we should punish in the one case and pardon in
the other. Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no concern from
it; but I should suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore
of my soul by swearing allegiance to one whose character is that of a
sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish man. I conceive
likewise a horrid idea in receiving mercy from a being, who at the
last day shall be shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him,
and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow, and the slain of
America.
There are cases which cannot be overdone by language, and this is
one. There are persons, too, who see not the full extent of the evil
which threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the
enemy, if he succeed, will be merciful. It is the madness of folly,
to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even
mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war; the
cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf, and
we ought to guard equally against both. Howe's first object is,
partly by threats and partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the
people to deliver up their arms and receive mercy. The ministry
recommended the same plan to Gage, and this is what the tories call
making their peace, "a peace which passeth all understanding" indeed!
A peace which would be the immediate forerunner of a worse ruin than
any we have yet thought of. Ye men of Pennsylvania, do reason upon
these things! Were the back counties to give up their arms, they
would fall an easy prey to the Indians, who are all armed: this
perhaps is what some Tories would not be sorry for. Were the home
counties to deliver up their arms, they would be exposed to the
resentment of the back counties who would then have it in their power
to chastise their defection at pleasure. And were any one state to
give up its arms, that state must be garrisoned by all Howe's army of
Britons and Hessians to preserve it from the anger of the rest.
Mutual fear is the principal link in the chain of mutual love, and
woe be to that state that breaks the compact. Howe is mercifully
inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men must be either rogues
or fools that will not see it. I dwell not upon the vapors of
imagination; I bring reason to your ears, and, in language as plain
as A, B, C, hold up truth to your eyes.
I thank God, that I fear not. I see no real cause for fear. I know
our situation well, and can see the way out of it. While our army was
collected, Howe dared not risk a battle; and it is no credit to him
that he decamped from the White Plains, and waited a mean opportunity
to ravage the defenceless Jerseys; but it is great credit to us,
that, with a handful of men, we sustained an orderly retreat for near
an hundred miles, brought off our ammunition, all our field pieces,
the greatest part of our stores, and had four rivers to pass. None
can say that our retreat was precipitate, for we were near three
weeks in performing it, that the country might have time to come in.
Twice we marched back to meet the enemy, and remained out till dark.
The sign of fear was not seen in our camp, and had not some of the
cowardly and disaffected inhabitants spread false alarms through the
country, the Jerseys had never been ravaged. Once more we are again
collected and collecting; our new army at both ends of the continent
is recruiting fast, and we shall be able to open the next campaign
with sixty thousand men, well armed and clothed. This is our
situation, and who will may know it. By perseverance and fortitude we
have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission,
the sad choice of a variety of evils- a ravaged country- a
depopulated city- habitations without safety, and slavery without
hope- our homes turned into barracks and bawdy-houses for Hessians,
and a future race to provide for, whose fathers we shall doubt of.
Look on this picture and weep over it! and if there yet remains one
thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented.
COMMON SENSE.
December 23, 1776.
The Crisis
II.
TO LORD HOWE.
"What's in the name of lord, that I should fear
To bring my grievance to the public ear?"
CHURCHILL.
UNIVERSAL empire is the prerogative of a writer. His concerns are
with all mankind, and though he cannot command their obedience, he
can assign them their duty. The Republic of Letters is more ancient
than monarchy, and of far higher character in the world than the
vassal court of Britain; he that rebels against reason is a real
rebel, but he that in defence of reason rebels against tyranny has a
better title to "Defender of the Faith," than George the Third.
As a military man your lordship may hold out the sword of war, and
call it the "ultima ratio regum": the last reason of kings; we in
return can show you the sword of justice, and call it "the best
scourge of tyrants." The first of these two may threaten, or even
frighten for a while, and cast a sickly languor over an insulted
people, but reason will soon recover the debauch, and restore them
again to tranquil fortitude. Your lordship, I find, has now commenced
author, and published a proclamation; I have published a Crisis. As
they stand, they are the antipodes of each other; both cannot rise at
once, and one of them must descend; and so quick is the revolution of
things, that your lordship's performance, I see, has already fallen
many degrees from its first place, and is now just visible on the
edge of the political horizon.
It is surprising to what a pitch of infatuation, blind folly and
obstinacy will carry mankind, and your lordship's drowsy proclamation
is a proof that it does not even quit them in their sleep. Perhaps
you thought America too was taking a nap, and therefore chose, like
Satan to Eve, to whisper the delusion softly, lest you should awaken
her. This continent, sir, is too extensive to sleep all at once, and
too watchful, even in its slumbers, not to startle at the unhallowed
foot of an invader. You may issue your proclamations, and welcome,
for we have learned to "reverence ourselves," and scorn the insulting
ruffian that employs you. America, for your deceased brother's sake,
would gladly have shown you respect and it is a new aggravation to
her feelings, that Howe should be forgetful, and raise his sword
against those, who at their own charge raised a monument to his
brother. But your master has commanded, and you have not enough of
nature left to refuse. Surely there must be something strangely
degenerating in the love of monarchy, that can so completely wear a
man down to an ingrate, and make him proud to lick the dust that
kings have trod upon. A few more years, should you survive them, will
bestow on you the title of "an old man": and in some hour of future
reflection you may probably find the fitness of Wolsey's despairing
penitence- "had I served my God as faithful as I have served my king,
he would not thus have forsaken me in my old age."
The character you appear to us in, is truly ridiculous. Your friends,
the Tories, announced your coming, with high descriptions of your
unlimited powers; but your proclamation has given them the lie, by
showing you to be a commissioner without authority. Had your powers
been ever so great they were nothing to us, further than we pleased;
because we had the same right which other nations had, to do what we
thought was best. "The UNITED STATES of AMERICA," will sound as
pompously in the world or in history, as "the kingdom of Great
Britain"; the character of General Washington will fill a page with
as much lustre as that of Lord Howe: and the Congress have as much
right to command the king and Parliament in London to desist from
legislation, as they or you have to command the Congress. Only
suppose how laughable such an edict would appear from us, and then,
in that merry mood, do but turn the tables upon yourself, and you
will see how your proclamation is received here. Having thus placed
you in a proper position in which you may have a full view of your
folly, and learn to despise it, I hold up to you, for that purpose,
the following quotation from your own lunarian proclamation.- "And we
(Lord Howe and General Howe) do command (and in his majesty's name
forsooth) all such persons as are assembled together, under the name
of general or provincial congresses, committees, conventions or other
associations, by whatever name or names known and distinguished, to
desist and cease from all such treasonable actings and doings."
You introduce your proclamation by referring to your declarations of
the 14th of July and 19th of September. In the last of these you sunk
yourself below the character of a private gentleman. That I may not
seem to accuse you unjustly, I shall state the circumstance: by a
verbal invitation of yours, communicated to Congress by General
Sullivan, then a prisoner on his parole, you signified your desire of
conferring with some members of that body as private gentlemen. It
was beneath the dignity of the American Congress to pay any regard to
a message that at best was but a genteel affront, and had too much of
the ministerial complexion of tampering with private persons; and
which might probably have been the case, had the gentlemen who were
deputed on the business possessed that kind of easy virtue which an
English courtier is so truly distinguished by. Your request, however,
was complied with, for honest men are naturally more tender of their
civil than their political fame. The interview ended as every
sensible man thought it would; for your lordship knows, as well as
the writer of the Crisis, that it is impossible for the King of
England to promise the repeal, or even the revisal of any acts of
parliament; wherefore, on your part, you had nothing to say, more
than to request, in the room of demanding, the entire surrender of
the continent; and then, if that was complied with, to promise that
the inhabitants should escape with their lives. This was the upshot
of the conference. You informed the conferees that you were two
months in soliciting these powers. We ask, what powers? for as
commissioner you have none. If you mean the power of pardoning, it is
an oblique proof that your master was determined to sacrifice all
before him; and that you were two months in dissuading him from his
purpose. Another evidence of his savage obstinacy! From your own
account of the matter we may justly draw these two conclusions: 1st,
That you serve a monster; and 2d, That never was a messenger sent on
a more foolish errand than yourself. This plain language may perhaps
sound uncouthly to an ear vitiated by courtly refinements, but words
were made for use, and the fault lies in deserving them, or the abuse
in applying them unfairly.
Soon after your return to New York, you published a very illiberal
and unmanly handbill against the Congress; for it was certainly
stepping out of the line of common civility, first to screen your
national pride by soliciting an interview with them as private
gentlemen, and in the conclusion to endeavor to deceive the multitude
by making a handbill attack on the whole body of the Congress; you
got them together under one name, and abused them under another. But
the king you serve, and the cause you support, afford you so few
instances of acting the gentleman, that out of pity to your situation
the Congress pardoned the insult by taking no notice of it.
You say in that handbill, "that they, the Congress, disavowed every
purpose for reconciliation not consonant with their extravagant and
inadmissible claim of independence." Why, God bless me! what have you
to do with our independence? We ask no leave of yours to set it up;
we ask no money of yours to support it; we can do better without your
fleets and armies than with them; you may soon have enough to do to
protect yourselves without being burdened with us. We are very
willing to be at peace with you, to buy of you and sell to you, and,
like young beginners in the world, to work for our living; therefore,
why do you put yourselves out of cash, when we know you cannot spare
it, and we do not desire you to run into debt? I am willing, sir,
that you should see your folly in every point of view I can place it
in, and for that reason descend sometimes to tell you in jest what I
wish you to see in earnest. But to be more serious with you, why do
you say, "their independence?" To set you right, sir, we tell you,
that the independency is ours, not theirs. The Congress were
authorized by every state on the continent to publish it to all the
world, and in so doing are not to be considered as the inventors, but
only as the heralds that proclaimed it, or the office from which the
sense of the people received a legal form; and it was as much as any
or all their heads were worth, to have treated with you on the
subject of submission under any name whatever. But we know the men in
whom we have trusted; can England say the same of her Parliament?
I come now more particularly to your proclamation of the 30th of
November last. Had you gained an entire conquest over all the armies
of America, and then put forth a proclamation, offering (what you
call) mercy, your conduct would have had some specious show of
humanity; but to creep by surprise into a province, and there
endeavor to terrify and seduce the inhabitants from their just
allegiance to the rest by promises, which you neither meant nor were
able to fulfil, is both cruel and unmanly: cruel in its effects;
because, unless you can keep all the ground you have marched over,
how are you, in the words of your proclamation, to secure to your
proselytes "the enjoyment of their property?" What is to become
either of your new adopted subjects, or your old friends, the Tories,
in Burlington, Bordentown, Trenton, Mount Holly, and many other
places, where you proudly lorded it for a few days, and then fled
with the precipitation of a pursued thief? What, I say, is to become
of those wretches? What is to become of those who went over to you
from this city and State? What more can you say to them than "shift
for yourselves?" Or what more can they hope for than to wander like
vagabonds over the face of the earth? You may now tell them to take
their leave of America, and all that once was theirs. Recommend them,
for consolation, to your master's court; there perhaps they may make
a shift to live on the scraps of some dangling parasite, and choose
companions among thousands like themselves. A traitor is the foulest
fiend on earth.
In a political sense we ought to thank you for thus bequeathing
estates to the continent; we shall soon, at this rate, be able to
carry on a war without expense, and grow rich by the ill policy of
Lord Howe, and the generous defection of the Tories. Had you set your
foot into this city, you would have bestowed estates upon us which we
never thought of, by bringing forth traitors we were unwilling to
suspect. But these men, you'll say, "are his majesty's most faithful
subjects;" let that honor, then, be all their fortune, and let his
majesty take them to himself.
I am now thoroughly disgusted with them; they live in ungrateful
ease, and bend their whole minds to mischief. It seems as if God had
given them over to a spirit of infidelity, and that they are open to
conviction in no other line but that of punishment. It is time to
have done with tarring, feathering, carting, and taking securities
for their future good behavior; every sensible man must feel a
conscious shame at seeing a poor fellow hawked for a show about the
streets, when it is known he is only the tool of some principal
villain, biassed into his offence by the force of false reasoning, or
bribed thereto, through sad necessity. We dishonor ourselves by
attacking such trifling characters while greater ones are suffered to
escape; 'tis our duty to find them out, and their proper punishment
would be to exile them from the continent for ever. The circle of
them is not so great as some imagine; the influence of a few have
tainted many who are not naturally corrupt. A continual circulation
of lies among those who are not much in the way of hearing them
contradicted, will in time pass for truth; and the crime lies not in
the believer but the inventor. I am not for declaring war with every
man that appears not so warm as myself: difference of constitution,
temper, habit of speaking, and many other things, will go a great way
in fixing the outward character of a man, yet simple honesty may
remain at bottom. Some men have naturally a military turn, and can
brave hardships and the risk of life with a cheerful face; others
have not; no slavery appears to them so great as the fatigue of arms,
and no terror so powerful as that of personal danger. What can we
say? We cannot alter nature, neither ought we to punish the son
because the father begot him in a cowardly mood. However, I believe
most men have more courage than they know of, and that a little at
first is enough to begin with. I knew the time when I thought that
the whistling of a cannon ball would have frightened me almost to
death; but I have since tried it, and find that I can stand it with
as little discomposure, and, I believe, with a much easier conscience
than your lordship. The same dread would return to me again were I in
your situation, for my solemn belief of your cause is, that it is
hellish and damnable, and, under that conviction, every thinking
man's heart must fail him.
From a concern that a good cause should be dishonored by the least
disunion among us, I said in my former paper, No. I. "That should the
enemy now be expelled, I wish, with all the sincerity of a Christian,
that the names of Whig and Tory might never more be mentioned;" but
there is a knot of men among us of such a venomous cast, that they
will not admit even one's good wishes to act in their favor. Instead
of rejoicing that heaven had, as it were, providentially preserved
this city from plunder and destruction, by delivering so great a part
of the enemy into our hands with so little effusion of blood, they
stubbornly affected to disbelieve it till within an hour, nay, half
an hour, of the prisoners arriving; and the Quakers put forth a
testimony, dated the 20th of December, signed "John Pemberton,"
declaring their attachment to the British government.* These men are
continually harping on the great sin of our bearing arms, but the
king of Britain may lay waste the world in blood and famine, and
they, poor fallen souls, have nothing to say.
* I have ever been careful of charging offences upon whole societies
of men, but as the paper referred to is put forth by an unknown set
of men, who claim to themselves the right of representing the whole:
and while the whole Society of Quakers admit its validity by a silent
acknowledgment, it is impossible that any distinction can be made by
the public: and the more so, because the New York paper of the 30th
of December, printed by permission of our enemies, says that "the
Quakers begin to speak openly of their attachment to the British
Constitution." We are certain that we have many friends among them,
and wish to know them.
In some future paper I intend to distinguish between the different
kind of persons who have been denominated Tories; for this I am clear
in, that all are not so who have been called so, nor all men Whigs
who were once thought so; and as I mean not to conceal the name of
any true friend when there shall be occasion to mention him, neither
will I that of an enemy, who ought to be known, let his rank, station
or religion be what it may. Much pains have been taken by some to set
your lordship's private character in an amiable light, but as it has
chiefly been done by men who know nothing about you, and who are no
ways remarkable for their attachment to us, we have no just authority
for believing it. George the Third has imposed upon us by the same
arts, but time, at length, has done him justice, and the same fate
may probably attend your lordship. You avowed purpose here is to
kill, conquer, plunder, pardon, and enslave: and the ravages of your
army through the Jerseys have been marked with as much barbarism as
if you had openly professed yourself the prince of ruffians; not even
the appearance of humanity has been preserved either on the march or
the retreat of your troops; no general order that I could ever learn,
has ever been issued to prevent or even forbid your troops from
robbery, wherever they came, and the only instance of justice, if it
can be called such, which has distinguished you for impartiality, is,
that you treated and plundered all alike; what could not be carried
away has been destroyed, and mahogany furniture has been deliberately
laid on fire for fuel, rather than the men should be fatigued with
cutting wood.* There was a time when the Whigs confided much in your
supposed candor, and the Tories rested themselves in your favor; the
experiments have now been made, and failed; in every town, nay, every
cottage, in the Jerseys, where your arms have been, is a testimony
against you. How you may rest under this sacrifice of character I
know not; but this I know, that you sleep and rise with the daily
curses of thousands upon you; perhaps the misery which the Tories
have suffered by your proffered mercy may give them some claim to
their country's pity, and be in the end the best favor you could show
them.
* As some people may doubt the truth of such wanton destruction, I
think it necessary to inform them that one of the people called
Quakers, who lives at Trenton, gave me this information at the house
of Mr. Michael Hutchinson, (one of the same profession,) who lives
near Trenton ferry on the Pennsylvania side, Mr. Hutchinson being
present.
In a folio general-order book belonging to Col. Rhal's battalion,
taken at Trenton, and now in the possession of the council of safety
for this state, the following barbarous order is frequently repeated,
"His excellency the Commander-in-Chief orders, that all inhabitants
who shall be found with arms, not having an officer with them, shall
be immediately taken and hung up." How many you may thus have
privately sacrificed, we know not, and the account can only be
settled in another world. Your treatment of prisoners, in order to
distress them to enlist in your infernal service, is not to be
equalled by any instance in Europe. Yet this is the humane Lord Howe
and his brother, whom the Tories and their three-quarter kindred, the
Quakers, or some of them at least, have been holding up for patterns
of justice and mercy!
A bad cause will ever be supported by bad means and bad men; and
whoever will be at the pains of examining strictly into things, will
find that one and the same spirit of oppression and impiety, more or
less, governs through your whole party in both countries: not many
days ago, I accidentally fell in company with a person of this city
noted for espousing your cause, and on my remarking to him, "that it
appeared clear to me, by the late providential turn of affairs, that
God Almighty was visibly on our side," he replied, "We care nothing
for that you may have Him, and welcome; if we have but enough of the
devil on our side, we shall do." However carelessly this might be
spoken, matters not, 'tis still the insensible principle that directs
all your conduct and will at last most assuredly deceive and ruin you.
If ever a nation was made and foolish, blind to its own interest and
bent on its own destruction, it is Britain. There are such things as
national sins, and though the punishment of individuals may be
reserved to another world, national punishment can only be inflicted
in this world. Britain, as a nation, is, in my inmost belief, the
greatest and most ungrateful offender against God on the face of the
whole earth. Blessed with all the commerce she could wish for, and
furnished, by a vast extension of dominion, with the means of
civilizing both the eastern and western world, she has made no other
use of both than proudly to idolize her own "thunder," and rip up the
bowels of whole countries for what she could get. Like Alexander, she
has made war her sport, and inflicted misery for prodigality's sake.
The blood of India is not yet repaid, nor the wretchedness of Africa
yet requited. Of late she has enlarged her list of national cruelties
by her butcherly destruction of the Caribbs of St. Vincent's, and
returning an answer by the sword to the meek prayer for "Peace,
liberty and safety." These are serious things, and whatever a foolish
tyrant, a debauched court, a trafficking legislature, or a blinded
people may think, the national account with heaven must some day or
other be settled: all countries have sooner or later been called to
their reckoning; the proudest empires have sunk when the balance was
struck; and Britain, like an individual penitent, must undergo her
day of sorrow, and the sooner it happens to her the better. As I wish
it over, I wish it to come, but withal wish that it may be as light
as possible.
Perhaps your lordship has no taste for serious things; by your
connections in England I should suppose not; therefore I shall drop
this part of the subject, and take it up in a line in which you will
better understand me.
By what means, may I ask, do you expect to conquer America? If you
could not effect it in the summer, when our army was less than yours,
nor in the winter, when we had none, how are you to do it? In point
of generalship you have been outwitted, and in point of fortitude
outdone; your advantages turn out to your loss, and show us that it
is in our power to ruin you by gifts: like a game of drafts, we can
move out of one square to let you come in, in order that we may
afterwards take two or three for one; and as we can always keep a
double corner for ourselves, we can always prevent a total defeat.
You cannot be so insensible as not to see that we have two to one the
advantage of you, because we conquer by a drawn game, and you lose by
it. Burgoyne might have taught your lordship this knowledge; he has
been long a student in the doctrine of chances.
I have no other idea of conquering countries than by subduing the
armies which defend them: have you done this, or can you do it? If
you have not, it would be civil in you to let your proclamations
alone for the present; otherwise, you will ruin more Tories by your
grace and favor, than you will Whigs by your arms.
Were you to obtain possession of this city, you would not know what
to do with it more than to plunder it. To hold it in the manner you
hold New York, would be an additional dead weight upon your hands;
and if a general conquest is your object, you had better be without
the city than with it. When you have defeated all our armies, the
cities will fall into your hands of themselves; but to creep into
them in the manner you got into Princeton, Trenton, &c. is like
robbing an orchard in the night before the fruit be ripe, and running
away in the morning. Your experiment in the Jerseys is sufficient to
teach you that you have something more to do than barely to get into
other people's houses; and your new converts, to whom you promised
all manner of protection, and seduced into new guilt by pardoning
them from their former virtues, must begin to have a very
contemptible opinion both of your power and your policy. Your
authority in the Jerseys is now reduced to the small circle which
your army occupies, and your proclamation is no where else seen
unless it be to be laughed at. The mighty subduers of the continent
have retreated into a nutshell, and the proud forgivers of our sins
are fled from those they came to pardon; and all this at a time when
they were despatching vessel after vessel to England with the great
news of every day. In short, you have managed your Jersey expedition
so very dexterously, that the dead only are conquerors, because none
will dispute the ground with them.
In all the wars which you have formerly been concerned in you had
only armies to contend with; in this case you have both an army and a
country to combat with. In former wars, the countries followed the
fate of their capitals; Canada fell with Quebec, and Minorca with
Port Mahon or St. Phillips; by subduing those, the conquerors opened
a way into, and became masters of the country: here it is otherwise;
if you get possession of a city here, you are obliged to shut
yourselves up in it, and can make no other use of it, than to spend
your country's money in. This is all the advantage you have drawn
from New York; and you would draw less from Philadelphia, because it
requires more force to keep it, and is much further from the sea. A
pretty figure you and the Tories would cut in this city, with a river
full of ice, and a town full of fire; for the immediate consequence
of your getting here would be, that you would be cannonaded out
again, and the Tories be obliged to make good the damage; and this
sooner or later will be the fate of New York.
I wish to see the city saved, not so much from military as from
natural motives. 'Tis the hiding place of women and children, and
Lord Howe's proper business is with our armies. When I put all the
circumstances together which ought to be taken, I laugh at your
notion of conquering America. Because you lived in a little country,
where an army might run over the whole in a few days, and where a
single company of soldiers might put a multitude to the rout, you
expected to find it the same here. It is plain that you brought over
with you all the narrow notions you were bred up with, and imagined
that a proclamation in the king's name was to do great things; but
Englishmen always travel for knowledge, and your lordship, I hope,
will return, if you return at all, much wiser than you came.
We may be surprised by events we did not expect, and in that interval
of recollection you may gain some temporary advantage: such was the
case a few weeks ago, but we soon ripen again into reason, collect
our strength, and while you are preparing for a triumph, we come upon
you with a defeat. Such it has been, and such it would be were you to
try it a hundred times over. Were you to garrison the places you
might march over, in order to secure their subjection, (for remember
you can do it by no other means,) your army would be like a stream of
water running to nothing. By the time you extended from New York to
Virginia, you would be reduced to a string of drops not capable of
hanging together; while we, by retreating from State to State, like a
river turning back upon itself, would acquire strength in the same
proportion as you lost it, and in the end be capable of overwhelming
you. The country, in the meantime, would suffer, but it is a day of
suffering, and we ought to expect it. What we contend for is worthy
the affliction we may go through. If we get but bread to eat, and any
kind of raiment to put on, we ought not only to be contented, but
thankful. More than that we ought not to look for, and less than that
heaven has not yet suffered us to want. He that would sell his
birthright for a little salt, is as worthless as he who sold it for
pottage without salt; and he that would part with it for a gay coat,
or a plain coat, ought for ever to be a slave in buff. What are salt,
sugar and finery, to the inestimable blessings of "Liberty and
Safety!" Or what are the inconveniences of a few months to the
tributary bondage of ages? The meanest peasant in America, blessed
with these sentiments, is a happy man compared with a New York Tory;
he can eat his morsel without repining, and when he has done, can
sweeten it with a repast of wholesome air; he can take his child by
the hand and bless it, without feeling the conscious shame of
neglecting a parent's duty.
In publishing these remarks I have several objects in view.
On your part they are to expose the folly of your pretended authority
as a commissioner; the wickedness of your cause in general; and the
impossibility of your conquering us at any rate. On the part of the
public, my intention is, to show them their true and sold interest;
to encourage them to their own good, to remove the fears and
falsities which bad men have spread, and weak men have encouraged;
and to excite in all men a love for union, and a cheerfulness for
duty.
I shall submit one more case to you respecting your conquest of this
country, and then proceed to new observations.
Suppose our armies in every part of this continent were immediately
to disperse, every man to his home, or where else he might be safe,
and engage to reassemble again on a certain future day; it is clear
that you would then have no army to contend with, yet you would be as
much at a loss in that case as you are now; you would be afraid to
send your troops in parties over to the continent, either to disarm
or prevent us from assembling, lest they should not return; and while
you kept them together, having no arms of ours to dispute with, you
could not call it a conquest; you might furnish out a pompous page in
the London Gazette or a New York paper, but when we returned at the
appointed time, you would have the same work to do that you had at
first.
It has been the folly of Britain to suppose herself more powerful
than she really is, and by that means has arrogated to herself a rank
in the world she is not entitled to: for more than this century past
she has not been able to carry on a war without foreign assistance.
In Marlborough's campaigns, and from that day to this, the number of
German troops and officers assisting her have been about equal with
her own; ten thousand Hessians were sent to England last war to
protect her from a French invasion; and she would have cut but a poor
figure in her Canadian and West Indian expeditions, had not America
been lavish both of her money and men to help her along. The only
instance in which she was engaged singly, that I can recollect, was
against the rebellion in Scotland, in the years 1745 and 1746, and in
that, out of three battles, she was twice beaten, till by thus
reducing their numbers, (as we shall yours) and taking a supply ship
that was coming to Scotland with clothes, arms and money, (as we have
often done,) she was at last enabled to defeat them. England was
never famous by land; her officers have generally been suspected of
cowardice, have more of the air of a dancing-master than a soldier,
and by the samples which we have taken prisoners, we give the
preference to ourselves. Her strength, of late, has lain in her
extravagance; but as her finances and credit are now low, her sinews
in that line begin to fail fast. As a nation she is the poorest in
Europe; for were the whole kingdom, and all that is in it, to be put
up for sale like the estate of a bankrupt, it would not fetch as much
as she owes; yet this thoughtless wretch must go to war, and with the
avowed design, too, of making us beasts of burden, to support her in
riot and debauchery, and to assist her afterwards in distressing
those nations who are now our best friends. This ingratitude may suit
a Tory, or the unchristian peevishness of a fallen Quaker, but none
else.
'Tis the unhappy temper of the English to be pleased with any war,
right or wrong, be it but successful; but they soon grow discontented
with ill fortune, and it is an even chance that they are as clamorous
for peace next summer, as the king and his ministers were for war
last winter. In this natural view of things, your lordship stands in
a very critical situation: your whole character is now staked upon
your laurels; if they wither, you wither with them; if they flourish,
you cannot live long to look at them; and at any rate, the black
account hereafter is not far off. What lately appeared to us
misfortunes, were only blessings in disguise; and the seeming
advantages on your side have turned out to our profit. Even our loss
of this city, as far as we can see, might be a principal gain to us:
the more surface you spread over, the thinner you will be, and the
easier wiped away; and our consolation under that apparent disaster
would be, that the estates of the Tories would become securities for
the repairs. In short, there is no old ground we can fail upon, but
some new foundation rises again to support us. "We have put, sir, our
hands to the plough, and cursed be he that looketh back."
Your king, in his speech to parliament last spring, declared, "That
he had no doubt but the great force they had enabled him to send to
America, would effectually reduce the rebellious colonies." It has
not, neither can it; but it has done just enough to lay the
foundation of its own next year's ruin. You are sensible that you
left England in a divided, distracted state of politics, and, by the
command you had here, you became a principal prop in the court party;
their fortunes rest on yours; by a single express you can fix their
value with the public, and the degree to which their spirits shall
rise or fall; they are in your hands as stock, and you have the
secret of the alley with you. Thus situated and connected, you become
the unintentional mechanical instrument of your own and their
overthrow. The king and his ministers put conquest out of doubt, and
the credit of both depended on the proof. To support them in the
interim, it was necessary that you should make the most of every
thing, and we can tell by Hugh Gaine's New York paper what the
complexion of the London Gazette is. With such a list of victories
the nation cannot expect you will ask new supplies; and to confess
your want of them would give the lie to your triumphs, and impeach
the king and his ministers of treasonable deception. If you make the
necessary demand at home, your party sinks; if you make it not, you
sink yourself; to ask it now is too late, and to ask it before was
too soon, and unless it arrive quickly will be of no use. In short,
the part you have to act, cannot be acted; and I am fully persuaded
that all you have to trust to is, to do the best you can with what
force you have got, or little more. Though we have greatly exceeded
you in point of generalship and bravery of men, yet, as a people, we
have not entered into the full soul of enterprise; for I, who know
England and the disposition of the people well, am confident, that it
is easier for us to effect a revolution there, than you a conquest
here; a few thousand men landed in England with the declared design
of deposing the present king, bringing his ministers to trial, and
setting up the Duke of Gloucester in his stead, would assuredly carry
their point, while you are grovelling here, ignorant of the matter.
As I send all my papers to England, this, like Common Sense, will
find its way there; and though it may put one party on their guard,
it will inform the other, and the nation in general, of our design to
help them.
Thus far, sir, I have endeavored to give you a picture of present
affairs: you may draw from it what conclusions you please. I wish as
well to the true prosperity of England as you can, but I consider
INDEPENDENCE as America's natural right and interest, and never could
see any real disservice it would be to Britain. If an English
merchant receives an order, and is paid for it, it signifies nothing
to him who governs the country. This is my creed of politics. If I
have any where expressed myself over-warmly, 'tis from a fixed,
immovable hatred I have, and ever had, to cruel men and cruel
measures. I have likewise an aversion to monarchy, as being too
debasing to the dignity of man; but I never troubled others with my
notions till very lately, nor ever published a syllable in England in
my life. What I write is pure nature, and my pen and my soul have
ever gone together. My writings I have always given away, reserving
only the expense of printing and paper, and sometimes not even that.
I never courted either fame or interest, and my manner of life, to
those who know it, will justify what I say. My study is to be useful,
and if your lordship loves mankind as well as I do, you would, seeing
you cannot conquer us, cast about and lend your hand towards
accomplishing a peace. Our independence with God's blessing we will
maintain against all the world; but as we wish to avoid evil
ourselves, we wish not to inflict it on others. I am never
over-inquisitive into the secrets of the cabinet, but I have some
notion that, if you neglect the present opportunity, it will not be
in our power to make a separate peace with you afterwards; for
whatever treaties or alliances we form, we shall most faithfully
abide by; wherefore you may be deceived if you think you can make it
with us at any time. A lasting independent peace is my wish, end and
aim; and to accomplish that, I pray God the Americans may never be
defeated, and I trust while they have good officers, and are well
commanded, and willing to be commanded, that they NEVER WILL BE.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, Jan. 13, 1777.
The Crisis
III.
IN THE progress of politics, as in the common occurrences of life, we
are not only apt to forget the ground we have travelled over, but
frequently neglect to gather up experience as we go. We expend, if I
may so say, the knowledge of every day on the circumstances that
produce it, and journey on in search of new matter and new
refinements: but as it is pleasant and sometimes useful to look back,
even to the first periods of infancy, and trace the turns and
windings through which we have passed, so we may likewise derive many
advantages by halting a while in our political career, and taking a
review of the wondrous complicated labyrinth of little more than
yesterday.
Truly may we say, that never did men grow old in so short a time! We
have crowded the business of an age into the compass of a few months,
and have been driven through such a rapid succession of things, that
for the want of leisure to think, we unavoidably wasted knowledge as
we came, and have left nearly as much behind us as we brought with
us: but the road is yet rich with the fragments, and, before we
finally lose sight of them, will repay us for the trouble of stopping
to pick them up.
Were a man to be totally deprived of memory, he would be incapable of
forming any just opinion; every thing about him would seem a chaos:
he would have even his own history to ask from every one; and by not
knowing how the world went in his absence, he would be at a loss to
know how it ought to go on when he recovered, or rather, returned to
it again. In like manner, though in a less degree, a too great
inattention to past occurrences retards and bewilders our judgment in
everything; while, on the contrary, by comparing what is past with
what is present, we frequently hit on the true character of both, and
become wise with very little trouble. It is a kind of counter-march,
by which we get into the rear of time, and mark the movements and
meaning of things as we make our return. There are certain
circumstances, which, at the time of their happening, are a kind of
riddles, and as every riddle is to be followed by its answer, so
those kind of circumstances will be followed by their events, and
those events are always the true solution. A considerable space of
time may lapse between, and unless we continue our observations from
the one to the other, the harmony of them will pass away unnoticed:
but the misfortune is, that partly from the pressing necessity of
some instant things, and partly from the impatience of our own
tempers, we are frequently in such a hurry to make out the meaning of
everything as fast as it happens, that we thereby never truly
understand it; and not only start new difficulties to ourselves by so
doing, but, as it were, embarrass Providence in her good designs.
I have been civil in stating this fault on a large scale, for, as it
now stands, it does not appear to be levelled against any particular
set of men; but were it to be refined a little further, it might
afterwards be applied to the Tories with a degree of striking
propriety: those men have been remarkable for drawing sudden
conclusions from single facts. The least apparent mishap on our side,
or the least seeming advantage on the part of the enemy, have
determined with them the fate of a whole campaign. By this hasty
judgment they have converted a retreat into a defeat; mistook
generalship for error; while every little advantage purposely given
the enemy, either to weaken their strength by dividing it, embarrass
their councils by multiplying their objects, or to secure a greater
post by the surrender of a less, has been instantly magnified into a
conquest. Thus, by quartering ill policy upon ill principles, they
have frequently promoted the cause they designed to injure, and
injured that which they intended to promote.
It is probable the campaign may open before this number comes from
the press. The enemy have long lain idle, and amused themselves with
carrying on the war by proclamations only. While they continue their
delay our strength increases, and were they to move to action now, it
is a circumstantial proof that they have no reinforcement coming;
wherefore, in either case, the comparative advantage will be ours.
Like a wounded, disabled whale, they want only time and room to die
in; and though in the agony of their exit, it may be unsafe to live
within the flapping of their tail, yet every hour shortens their
date, and lessens their power of mischief. If any thing happens while
this number is in the press, it will afford me a subject for the last
pages of it. At present I am tired of waiting; and as neither the
enemy, nor the state of politics have yet produced any thing new, I
am thereby left in the field of general matter, undirected by any
striking or particular object. This Crisis, therefore, will be made
up rather of variety than novelty, and consist more of things useful
than things wonderful.
The success of the cause, the union of the people, and the means of
supporting and securing both, are points which cannot be too much
attended to. He who doubts of the former is a desponding coward, and
he who wilfully disturbs the latter is a traitor. Their characters
are easily fixed, and under these short descriptions I leave them for
the present.
One of the greatest degrees of sentimental union which America ever
knew, was in denying the right of the British parliament "to bind the
colonies in all cases whatsoever." The Declaration is, in its form,
an almighty one, and is the loftiest stretch of arbitrary power that
ever one set of men or one country claimed over another. Taxation was
nothing more than the putting the declared right into practice; and
this failing, recourse was had to arms, as a means to establish both
the right and the practice, or to answer a worse purpose, which will
be mentioned in the course of this number. And in order to repay
themselves the expense of an army, and to profit by their own
injustice, the colonies were, by another law, declared to be in a
state of actual rebellion, and of consequence all property therein
would fall to the conquerors.
The colonies, on their part, first, denied the right; secondly, they
suspended the use of taxable articles, and petitioned against the
practice of taxation: and these failing, they, thirdly, defended
their property by force, as soon as it was forcibly invaded, and, in
answer to the declaration of rebellion and non-protection, published
their Declaration of Independence and right of self-protection.
These, in a few words, are the different stages of the quarrel; and
the parts are so intimately and necessarily connected with each other
as to admit of no separation. A person, to use a trite phrase, must
be a Whig or a Tory in a lump. His feelings, as a man, may be
wounded; his charity, as a Christian, may be moved; but his political
principles must go through all the cases on one side or the other. He
cannot be a Whig in this stage, and a Tory in that. If he says he is
against the united independence of the continent, he is to all
intents and purposes against her in all the rest; because this last
comprehends the whole. And he may just as well say, that Britain was
right in declaring us rebels; right in taxing us; and right in
declaring her "right to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever."
It signifies nothing what neutral ground, of his own creating, he may
skulk upon for shelter, for the quarrel in no stage of it hath
afforded any such ground; and either we or Britain are absolutely
right or absolutely wrong through the whole.
Britain, like a gamester nearly ruined, has now put all her losses
into one bet, and is playing a desperate game for the total. If she
wins it, she wins from me my life; she wins the continent as the
forfeited property of rebels; the right of taxing those that are left
as reduced subjects; and the power of binding them slaves: and the
single die which determines this unparalleled event is, whether we
support our independence or she overturn it. This is coming to the
point at once. Here is the touchstone to try men by. He that is not a
supporter of the independent States of America in the same degree
that his religious and political principles would suffer him to
support the government of any other country, of which he called
himself a subject, is, in the American sense of the word, A TORY; and
the instant that he endeavors to bring his toryism into practice, he
becomes A TRAITOR. The first can only be detected by a general test,
and the law hath already provided for the latter.
It is unnatural and impolitic to admit men who would root up our
independence to have any share in our legislation, either as electors
or representatives; because the support of our independence rests, in
a great measure, on the vigor and purity of our public bodies. Would
Britain, even in time of peace, much less in war, suffer an election
to be carried by men who professed themselves to be not her subjects,
or allow such to sit in Parliament? Certainly not.
But there are a certain species of Tories with whom conscience or
principle has nothing to do, and who are so from avarice only. Some
of the first fortunes on the continent, on the part of the Whigs, are
staked on the issue of our present measures. And shall disaffection
only be rewarded with security? Can any thing be a greater inducement
to a miserly man, than the hope of making his Mammon safe? And though
the scheme be fraught with every character of folly, yet, so long as
he supposes, that by doing nothing materially criminal against
America on one part, and by expressing his private disapprobation
against independence, as palliative with the enemy, on the other
part, he stands in a safe line between both; while, I say, this
ground be suffered to remain, craft, and the spirit of avarice, will
point it out, and men will not be wanting to fill up this most
contemptible of all characters.
These men, ashamed to own the sordid cause from whence their
disaffection springs, add thereby meanness to meanness, by
endeavoring to shelter themselves under the mask of hypocrisy; that
is, they had rather be thought to be Tories from some kind of
principle, than Tories by having no principle at all. But till such
time as they can show some real reason, natural, political, or
conscientious, on which their objections to independence are founded,
we are not obliged to give them credit for being Tories of the first
stamp, but must set them down as Tories of the last.
In the second number of the Crisis, I endeavored to show the
impossibility of the enemy's making any conquest of America, that
nothing was wanting on our part but patience and perseverance, and
that, with these virtues, our success, as far as human speculation
could discern, seemed as certain as fate. But as there are many among
us, who, influenced by others, have regularly gone back from the
principles they once held, in proportion as we have gone forward; and
as it is the unfortunate lot of many a good man to live within the
neighborhood of disaffected ones; I shall, therefore, for the sake of
confirming the one and recovering the other, endeavor, in the space
of a page or two, to go over some of the leading principles in
support of independence. It is a much pleasanter task to prevent vice
than to punish it, and, however our tempers may be gratified by
resentment, or our national expenses eased by forfeited estates,
harmony and friendship is, nevertheless, the happiest condition a
country can be blessed with.
The principal arguments in support of independence may be
comprehended under the four following heads.
1st, The natural right of the continent to independence.
2d, Her interest in being independent.
3d, The necessity,- and
4th, The moral advantages arising therefrom.
I. The natural right of the continent to independence, is a point
which never yet was called in question. It will not even admit of a
debate. To deny such a right, would be a kind of atheism against
nature: and the best answer to such an objection would be, "The fool
hath said in his heart there is no God."
II. The interest of the continent in being independent is a point as
clearly right as the former. America, by her own internal industry,
and unknown to all the powers of Europe, was, at the beginning of the
dispute, arrived at a pitch of greatness, trade and population,
beyond which it was the interest of Britain not to suffer her to
pass, lest she should grow too powerful to be kept subordinate. She
began to view this country with the same uneasy malicious eye, with
which a covetous guardian would view his ward, whose estate he had
been enriching himself by for twenty years, and saw him just arriving
at manhood. And America owes no more to Britain for her present
maturity, than the ward would to the guardian for being twenty-one
years of age. That America hath flourished at the time she was under
the government of Britain, is true; but there is every natural reason
to believe, that had she been an independent country from the first
settlement thereof, uncontrolled by any foreign power, free to make
her own laws, regulate and encourage her own commerce, she had by
this time been of much greater worth than now. The case is simply
this: the first settlers in the different colonies were left to shift
for themselves, unnoticed and unsupported by any European government;
but as the tyranny and persecution of the old world daily drove
numbers to the new, and as, by the favor of heaven on their industry
and perseverance, they grew into importance, so, in a like degree,
they became an object of profit to the greedy eyes of Europe. It was
impossible, in this state of infancy, however thriving and promising,
that they could resist the power of any armed invader that should
seek to bring them under his authority. In this situation, Britain
thought it worth her while to claim them, and the continent received
and acknowledged the claimer. It was, in reality, of no very great
importance who was her master, seeing, that from the force and
ambition of the different powers of Europe, she must, till she
acquired strength enough to assert her own right, acknowledge some
one. As well, perhaps, Britain as another; and it might have been as
well to have been under the states of Holland as any. The same hopes
of engrossing and profiting by her trade, by not oppressing it too
much, would have operated alike with any master, and produced to the
colonies the same effects. The clamor of protection, likewise, was
all a farce; because, in order to make that protection necessary, she
must first, by her own quarrels, create us enemies. Hard terms indeed!
To know whether it be the interest of the continent to be
independent, we need only ask this easy, simple question: Is it the
interest of a man to be a boy all his life? The answer to one will be
the answer to both. America hath been one continued scene of
legislative contention from the first king's representative to the
last; and this was unavoidably founded in the natural opposition of
interest between the old country and the new. A governor sent from
England, or receiving his authority therefrom, ought never to have
been considered in any other light than that of a genteel
commissioned spy, whose private business was information, and his
public business a kind of civilized oppression. In the first of these
characters he was to watch the tempers, sentiments, and disposition
of the people, the growth of trade, and the increase of private
fortunes; and, in the latter, to suppress all such acts of the
assemblies, however beneficial to the people, which did not directly
or indirectly throw some increase of power or profit into the hands
of those that sent him.
America, till now, could never be called a free country, because her
legislation depended on the will of a man three thousand miles
distant, whose interest was in opposition to ours, and who, by a
single "no," could forbid what law he pleased.
The freedom of trade, likewise, is, to a trading country, an article
of such importance, that the principal source of wealth depends upon
it; and it is impossible that any country can flourish, as it
otherwise might do, whose commerce is engrossed, cramped and fettered
by the laws and mandates of another- yet these evils, and more than I
can here enumerate, the continent has suffered by being under the
government of England. By an independence we clear the whole at once-
put an end to the business of unanswered petitions and fruitless
remonstrances- exchange Britain for Europe- shake hands with the
world- live at peace with the world- and trade to any market where we
can buy and sell.
III. The necessity, likewise, of being independent, even before it
was declared, became so evident and important, that the continent ran
the risk of being ruined every day that she delayed it. There was
reason to believe that Britain would endeavor to make an European
matter of it, and, rather than lose the whole, would dismember it,
like Poland, and dispose of her several claims to the highest bidder.
Genoa, failing in her attempts to reduce Corsica, made a sale of it
to the French, and such trafficks have been common in the old world.
We had at that time no ambassador in any part of Europe, to
counteract her negotiations, and by that means she had the range of
every foreign court uncontradicted on our part. We even knew nothing
of the treaty for the Hessians till it was concluded, and the troops
ready to embark. Had we been independent before, we had probably
prevented her obtaining them. We had no credit abroad, because of our
rebellious dependency. Our ships could claim no protection in foreign
ports, because we afforded them no justifiable reason for granting it
to us. The calling ourselves subjects, and at the same time fighting
against the power which we acknowledged, was a dangerous precedent to
all Europe. If the grievances justified the taking up arms, they
justified our separation; if they did not justify our separation,
neither could they justify our taking up arms. All Europe was
interested in reducing us as rebels, and all Europe (or the greatest
part at least) is interested in supporting us as independent States.
At home our condition was still worse: our currency had no
foundation, and the fall of it would have ruined Whig and Tory alike.
We had no other law than a kind of moderated passion; no other civil
power than an honest mob; and no other protection than the temporary
attachment of one man to another. Had independence been delayed a few
months longer, this continent would have been plunged into
irrecoverable confusion: some violent for it, some against it, till,
in the general cabal, the rich would have been ruined, and the poor
destroyed. It is to independence that every Tory owes the present
safety which he lives in; for by that, and that only, we emerged from
a state of dangerous suspense, and became a regular people.
The necessity, likewise, of being independent, had there been no
rupture between Britain and America, would, in a little time, have
brought one on. The increasing importance of commerce, the weight and
perplexity of legislation, and the entangled state of European
politics, would daily have shown to the continent the impossibility
of continuing subordinate; for, after the coolest reflections on the
matter, this must be allowed, that Britain was too jealous of America
to govern it justly; too ignorant of it to govern it well; and too
far distant from it to govern it at all.
IV. But what weigh most with all men of serious reflection are, the
moral advantages arising from independence: war and desolation have
become the trade of the old world; and America neither could nor can
be under the government of Britain without becoming a sharer of her
guilt, and a partner in all the dismal commerce of death. The spirit
of duelling, extended on a national scale, is a proper character for
European wars. They have seldom any other motive than pride, or any
other object than fame. The conquerors and the conquered are
generally ruined alike, and the chief difference at last is, that the
one marches home with his honors, and the other without them. 'Tis
the natural temper of the English to fight for a feather, if they
suppose that feather to be an affront; and America, without the right
of asking why, must have abetted in every quarrel, and abided by its
fate. It is a shocking situation to live in, that one country must be
brought into all the wars of another, whether the measure be right or
wrong, or whether she will or not; yet this, in the fullest extent,
was, and ever would be, the unavoidable consequence of the
connection. Surely the Quakers forgot their own principles when, in
their late Testimony, they called this connection, with these
military and miserable appendages hanging to it- "the happy
constitution."
Britain, for centuries past, has been nearly fifty years out of every
hundred at war with some power or other. It certainly ought to be a
conscientious as well political consideration with America, not to
dip her hands in the bloody work of Europe. Our situation affords us
a retreat from their cabals, and the present happy union of the
states bids fair for extirpating the future use of arms from one
quarter of the world; yet such have been the irreligious politics of
the present leaders of the Quakers, that, for the sake of they scarce
know what, they would cut off every hope of such a blessing by tying
this continent to Britain, like Hector to the chariot wheel of
Achilles, to be dragged through all the miseries of endless European
wars.
The connection, viewed from this ground, is distressing to every man
who has the feelings of humanity. By having Britain for our master,
we became enemies to the greatest part of Europe, and they to us: and
the consequence was war inevitable. By being our own masters,
independent of any foreign one, we have Europe for our friends, and
the prospect of an endless peace among ourselves. Those who were
advocates for the British government over these colonies, were
obliged to limit both their arguments and their ideas to the period
of an European peace only; the moment Britain became plunged in war,
every supposed convenience to us vanished, and all we could hope for
was not to be ruined. Could this be a desirable condition for a young
country to be in?
Had the French pursued their fortune immediately after the defeat of
Braddock last war, this city and province had then experienced the
woful calamities of being a British subject. A scene of the same kind
might happen again; for America, considered as a subject to the crown
of Britain, would ever have been the seat of war, and the bone of
contention between the two powers.
On the whole, if the future expulsion of arms from one quarter of the
world would be a desirable object to a peaceable man; if the freedom
of trade to every part of it can engage the attention of a man of
business; if the support or fall of millions of currency can affect
our interests; if the entire possession of estates, by cutting off
the lordly claims of Britain over the soil, deserves the regard of
landed property; and if the right of making our own laws,
uncontrolled by royal or ministerial spies or mandates, be worthy our
care as freemen;- then are all men interested in the support of
independence; and may he that supports it not, be driven from the
blessing, and live unpitied beneath the servile sufferings of
scandalous subjection!
We have been amused with the tales of ancient wonders; we have read,
and wept over the histories of other nations: applauded, censured, or
pitied, as their cases affected us. The fortitude and patience of the
sufferers- the justness of their cause- the weight of their
oppressions and oppressors- the object to be saved or lost- with all
the consequences of a defeat or a conquest- have, in the hour of
sympathy, bewitched our hearts, and chained it to their fate: but
where is the power that ever made war upon petitioners? Or where is
the war on which a world was staked till now?
We may not, perhaps, be wise enough to make all the advantages we
ought of our independence; but they are, nevertheless, marked and
presented to us with every character of great and good, and worthy
the hand of him who sent them. I look through the present trouble to
a time of tranquillity, when we shall have it in our power to set an
example of peace to all the world. Were the Quakers really impressed
and influenced by the quiet principles they profess to hold, they
would, however they might disapprove the means, be the first of all
men to approve of independence, because, by separating ourselves from
the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, it affords an opportunity never
given to man before of carrying their favourite principle of peace
into general practice, by establishing governments that shall
hereafter exist without wars. O! ye fallen, cringing,
priest-and-Pemberton-ridden people! What more can we say of ye than
that a religious Quaker is a valuable character, and a political
Quaker a real Jesuit.
Having thus gone over some of the principal points in support of
independence, I must now request the reader to return back with me to
the period when it first began to be a public doctrine, and to
examine the progress it has made among the various classes of men.
The area I mean to begin at, is the breaking out of hostilities,
April 19th, 1775. Until this event happened, the continent seemed to
view the dispute as a kind of law-suit for a matter of right,
litigating between the old country and the new; and she felt the same
kind and degree of horror, as if she had seen an oppressive
plaintiff, at the head of a band of ruffians, enter the court, while
the cause was before it, and put the judge, the jury, the defendant
and his counsel, to the sword. Perhaps a more heart-felt convulsion
never reached a country with the same degree of power and rapidity
before, and never may again. Pity for the sufferers, mixed with
indignation at the violence, and heightened with apprehensions of
undergoing the same fate, made the affair of Lexington the affair of
the continent. Every part of it felt the shock, and all vibrated
together. A general promotion of sentiment took place: those who had
drank deeply into Whiggish principles, that is, the right and
necessity not only of opposing, but wholly setting aside the power of
the crown as soon as it became practically dangerous (for in theory
it was always so), stepped into the first stage of independence;
while another class of Whigs, equally sound in principle, but not so
sanguine in enterprise, attached themselves the stronger to the
cause, and fell close in with the rear of the former; their partition
was a mere point. Numbers of the moderate men, whose chief fault, at
that time, arose from entertaining a better opinion of Britain than
she deserved, convinced now of their mistake, gave her up, and
publicly declared themselves good Whigs. While the Tories, seeing it
was no longer a laughing matter, either sank into silent obscurity,
or contented themselves with coming forth and abusing General Gage:
not a single advocate appeared to justify the action of that day; it
seemed to appear to every one with the same magnitude, struck every
one with the same force, and created in every one the same
abhorrence. From this period we may date the growth of independence.
If the many circumstances which happened at this memorable time, be
taken in one view, and compared with each other, they will justify a
conclusion which seems not to have been attended to, I mean a fixed
design in the king and ministry of driving America into arms, in
order that they might be furnished with a pretence for seizing the
whole continent, as the immediate property of the crown. A noble
plunder for hungry courtiers!
It ought to be remembered, that the first petition from the Congress
was at this time unanswered on the part of the British king. That the
motion, called Lord North's motion, of the 20th of February, 1775,
arrived in America the latter end of March. This motion was to be
laid, by the several governors then in being, before, the assembly of
each province; and the first assembly before which it was laid, was
the assembly of Pennsylvania, in May following. This being a just
state of the case, I then ask, why were hostilities commenced between
the time of passing the resolve in the House of Commons, of the 20th
of February, and the time of the assemblies meeting to deliberate
upon it? Degrading and famous as that motion was, there is
nevertheless reason to believe that the king and his adherents were
afraid the colonies would agree to it, and lest they should, took
effectual care they should not, by provoking them with hostilities in
the interim. They had not the least doubt at that time of conquering
America at one blow; and what they expected to get by a conquest
being infinitely greater than any thing they could hope to get either
by taxation or accommodation, they seemed determined to prevent even
the possibility of hearing each other, lest America should disappoint
their greedy hopes of the whole, by listening even to their own
terms. On the one hand they refused to hear the petition of the
continent, and on the other hand took effectual care the continent
should not hear them.
That the motion of the 20th February and the orders for commencing
hostilities were both concerted by the same person or persons, and
not the latter by General Gage, as was falsely imagined at first, is
evident from an extract of a letter of his to the administration,
read among other papers in the House of Commons; in which he informs
his masters, "That though their idea of his disarming certain
counties was a right one, yet it required him to be master of the
country, in order to enable him to execute it." This was prior to the
commencement of hostilities, and consequently before the motion of
the 20th February could be deliberated on by the several assemblies.
Perhaps it may be asked, why was the motion passed, if there was at
the same time a plan to aggravate the Americans not to listen to it?
Lord North assigned one reason himself, which was a hope of dividing
them. This was publicly tempting them to reject it; that if, in case
the injury of arms should fail in provoking them sufficiently, the
insult of such a declaration might fill it up. But by passing the
motion and getting it afterwards rejected in America, it enabled
them, in their wicked idea of politics, among other things, to hold
up the colonies to foreign powers, with every possible mark of
disobedience and rebellion. They had applied to those powers not to
supply the continent with arms, ammunition, etc., and it was
necessary they should incense them against us, by assigning on their
own part some seeming reputable reason why. By dividing, it had a
tendency to weaken the States, and likewise to perplex the adherents
of America in England. But the principal scheme, and that which has
marked their character in every part of their conduct, was a design
of precipitating the colonies into a state which they might
afterwards deem rebellion, and, under that pretence, put an end to
all future complaints, petitions and remonstrances, by seizing the
whole at once. They had ravaged one part of the globe, till it could
glut them no longer; their prodigality required new plunder, and
through the East India article tea they hoped to transfer their
rapine from that quarter of the world to this. Every designed quarrel
had its pretence; and the same barbarian avarice accompanied the
plant to America, which ruined the country that produced it.
That men never turn rogues without turning fools is a maxim, sooner
or later, universally true. The commencement of hostilities, being in
the beginning of April, was, of all times the worst chosen: the
Congress were to meet the tenth of May following, and the distress
the continent felt at this unparalleled outrage gave a stability to
that body which no other circumstance could have done. It suppressed
too all inferior debates, and bound them together by a necessitous
affection, without giving them time to differ upon trifles. The
suffering likewise softened the whole body of the people into a
degree of pliability, which laid the principal foundation-stone of
union, order, and government; and which, at any other time, might
only have fretted and then faded away unnoticed and unimproved. But
Providence, who best knows how to time her misfortunes as well as her
immediate favors, chose this to be the time, and who dare dispute it?
It did not seem the disposition of the people, at this crisis, to
heap petition upon petition, while the former remained unanswered.
The measure however was carried in Congress, and a second petition
was sent; of which I shall only remark that it was submissive even to
a dangerous fault, because the prayer of it appealed solely to what
it called the prerogative of the crown, while the matter in dispute
was confessedly constitutional. But even this petition, flattering as
it was, was still not so harmonious as the chink of cash, and
consequently not sufficiently grateful to the tyrant and his
ministry. From every circumstance it is evident, that it was the
determination of the British court to have nothing to do with America
but to conquer her fully and absolutely. They were certain of
success, and the field of battle was the only place of treaty. I am
confident there are thousands and tens of thousands in America who
wonder now that they should ever have thought otherwise; but the sin
of that day was the sin of civility; yet it operated against our
present good in the same manner that a civil opinion of the devil
would against our future peace.
Independence was a doctrine scarce and rare, even towards the
conclusion of the year 1775; all our politics had been founded on the
hope of expectation of making the matter up- a hope, which, though
general on the side of America, had never entered the head or heart
of the British court. Their hope was conquest and confiscation. Good
heavens! what volumes of thanks does America owe to Britain? What
infinite obligation to the tool that fills, with paradoxical vacancy,
the throne! Nothing but the sharpest essence of villany, compounded
with the strongest distillation of folly, could have produced a
menstruum that would have effected a separation. The Congress in 1774
administered an abortive medicine to independence, by prohibiting the
importation of goods, and the succeeding Congress rendered the dose
still more dangerous by continuing it. Had independence been a
settled system with America, (as Britain has advanced,) she ought to
have doubled her importation, and prohibited in some degree her
exportation. And this single circumstance is sufficient to acquit
America before any jury of nations, of having a continental plan of
independence in view; a charge which, had it been true, would have
been honorable, but is so grossly false, that either the amazing
ignorance or the wilful dishonesty of the British court is
effectually proved by it.
The second petition, like the first, produced no answer; it was
scarcely acknowledged to have been received; the British court were
too determined in their villainy even to act it artfully, and in
their rage for conquest neglected the necessary subtleties for
obtaining it. They might have divided, distracted and played a
thousand tricks with us, had they been as cunning as they were cruel.
This last indignity gave a new spring to independence. Those who knew
the savage obstinacy of the king, and the jobbing, gambling spirit of
the court, predicted the fate of the petition, as soon as it was sent
from America; for the men being known, their measures were easily
foreseen. As politicians we ought not so much to ground our hopes on
the reasonableness of the thing we ask, as on the reasonableness of
the person of whom we ask it: who would expect discretion from a
fool, candor from a tyrant, or justice from a villain?
As every prospect of accommodation seemed now to fail fast, men began
to think seriously on the matter; and their reason being thus
stripped of the false hope which had long encompassed it, became
approachable by fair debate: yet still the bulk of the people
hesitated; they startled at the novelty of independence, without once
considering that our getting into arms at first was a more
extraordinary novelty, and that all other nations had gone through
the work of independence before us. They doubted likewise the ability
of the continent to support it, without reflecting that it required
the same force to obtain an accommodation by arms as an independence.
If the one was acquirable, the other was the same; because, to
accomplish either, it was necessary that our strength should be too
great for Britain to subdue; and it was too unreasonable to suppose,
that with the power of being masters, we should submit to be
servants.* Their caution at this time was exceedingly misplaced; for
if they were able to defend their property and maintain their rights
by arms, they, consequently, were able to defend and support their
independence; and in proportion as these men saw the necessity and
correctness of the measure, they honestly and openly declared and
adopted it, and the part that they had acted since has done them
honor and fully established their characters. Error in opinion has
this peculiar advantage with it, that the foremost point of the
contrary ground may at any time be reached by the sudden exertion of
a thought; and it frequently happens in sentimental differences, that
some striking circumstance, or some forcible reason quickly
conceived, will effect in an instant what neither argument nor
example could produce in an age.
* In this state of political suspense the pamphlet Common Sense made
its appearance, and the success it met with does not become me to
mention. Dr. Franklin, Mr. Samuel and John Adams, were severally
spoken of as the supposed author. I had not, at that time, the
pleasure either of personally knowing or being known to the two last
gentlemen. The favor of Dr. Franklin's friendship I possessed in
England, and my introduction to this part of the world was through
his patronage. I happened, when a school-boy, to pick up a pleasing
natural history of Virginia, and my inclination from that day of
seeing the western side of the Atlantic never left me. In October,
1775, Dr. Franklin proposed giving me such materials as were in his
hands, towards completing a history of the present transactions, and
seemed desirous of having the first volume out the next Spring. I had
then formed the outlines of Common Sense, and finished nearly the
first part; and as I supposed the doctor's design in getting out a
history was to open the new year with a new system, I expected to
surprise him with a production on that subject, much earlier than he
thought of; and without informing him what I was doing, got it ready
for the press as fast as I conveniently could, and sent him the first
pamphlet that was printed off.
I find it impossible in the small compass I am limited to, to trace
out the progress which independence has made on the minds of the
different classes of men, and the several reasons by which they were
moved. With some, it was a passionate abhorrence against the king of
England and his ministry, as a set of savages and brutes; and these
men, governed by the agony of a wounded mind, were for trusting every
thing to hope and heaven, and bidding defiance at once. With others,
it was a growing conviction that the scheme of the British court was
to create, ferment and drive on a quarrel, for the sake of
confiscated plunder: and men of this class ripened into independence
in proportion as the evidence increased. While a third class
conceived it was the true interest of America, internally and
externally, to be her own master, and gave their support to
independence, step by step, as they saw her abilities to maintain it
enlarge. With many, it was a compound of all these reasons; while
those who were too callous to be reached by either, remained, and
still remain Tories.
The legal necessity of being independent, with several collateral
reasons, is pointed out in an elegant masterly manner, in a charge to
the grand jury for the district of Charleston, by the Hon. William
Henry Drayton, chief justice of South Carolina, [April 23, 1776].
This performance, and the address of the convention of New York, are
pieces, in my humble opinion, of the first rank in America.
The principal causes why independence has not been so universally
supported as it ought, are fear and indolence, and the causes why it
has been opposed, are, avarice, down-right villany, and lust of
personal power. There is not such a being in America as a Tory from
conscience; some secret defect or other is interwoven in the
character of all those, be they men or women, who can look with
patience on the brutality, luxury and debauchery of the British
court, and the violations of their army here. A woman's virtue must
sit very lightly on her who can even hint a favorable sentiment in
their behalf. It is remarkable that the whole race of prostitutes in
New York were tories; and the schemes for supporting the Tory cause
in this city, for which several are now in jail, and one hanged, were
concerted and carried on in common bawdy-houses, assisted by those
who kept them.
The connection between vice and meanness is a fit subject for satire,
but when the satire is a fact, it cuts with the irresistible power of
a diamond. If a Quaker, in defence of his just rights, his property,
and the chastity of his house, takes up a musket, he is expelled the
meeting; but the present king of England, who seduced and took into
keeping a sister of their society, is reverenced and supported by
repeated Testimonies, while, the friendly noodle from whom she was
taken (and who is now in this city) continues a drudge in the service
of his rival, as if proud of being cuckolded by a creature called a
king.
Our support and success depend on such a variety of men and
circumstances, that every one who does but wish well, is of some use:
there are men who have a strange aversion to arms, yet have hearts to
risk every shilling in the cause, or in support of those who have
better talents for defending it. Nature, in the arrangement of
mankind, has fitted some for every service in life: were all
soldiers, all would starve and go naked, and were none soldiers, all
would be slaves. As disaffection to independence is the badge of a
Tory, so affection to it is the mark of a Whig; and the different
services of the Whigs, down from those who nobly contribute every
thing, to those who have nothing to render but their wishes, tend all
to the same center, though with different degrees of merit and
ability. The larger we make the circle, the more we shall harmonize,
and the stronger we shall be. All we want to shut out is
disaffection, and, that excluded, we must accept from each other such
duties as we are best fitted to bestow. A narrow system of politics,
like a narrow system of religion, is calculated only to sour the
temper, and be at variance with mankind.
All we want to know in America is simply this, who is for
independence, and who is not? Those who are for it, will support it,
and the remainder will undoubtedly see the reasonableness of paying
the charges; while those who oppose or seek to betray it, must expect
the more rigid fate of the jail and the gibbet. There is a bastard
kind of generosity, which being extended to all men, is as fatal to
society, on one hand, as the want of true generosity is on the other.
A lax manner of administering justice, falsely termed moderation, has
a tendency both to dispirit public virtue, and promote the growth of
public evils. Had the late committee of safety taken cognizance of
the last Testimony of the Quakers and proceeded against such
delinquents as were concerned therein, they had, probably, prevented
the treasonable plans which have been concerted since. When one
villain is suffered to escape, it encourages another to proceed,
either from a hope of escaping likewise, or an apprehension that we
dare not punish. It has been a matter of general surprise, that no
notice was taken of the incendiary publication of the Quakers, of the
20th of November last; a publication evidently intended to promote
sedition and treason, and encourage the enemy, who were then within a
day's march of this city, to proceed on and possess it. I here
present the reader with a memorial which was laid before the board of
safety a few days after the Testimony appeared. Not a member of that
board, that I conversed with, but expressed the highest detestation
of the perverted principles and conduct of the Quaker junto, and a
wish that the board would take the matter up; notwithstanding which,
it was suffered to pass away unnoticed, to the encouragement of new
acts of treason, the general danger of the cause, and the disgrace of
the state.
To the honorable the Council of Safety of the State of
Pennsylvania.
At a meeting of a reputable number of the inhabitants of the city of
Philadelphia, impressed with a proper sense of the justice of the
cause which this continent is engaged in, and animated with a
generous fervor for supporting the same, it was resolved, that the
following be laid before the board of safety:
"We profess liberality of sentiment to all men; with this distinction
only, that those who do not deserve it would become wise and seek to
deserve it. We hold the pure doctrines of universal liberty of
conscience, and conceive it our duty to endeavor to secure that
sacred right to others, as well as to defend it for ourselves; for we
undertake not to judge of the religious rectitude of tenets, but
leave the whole matter to Him who made us.
"We persecute no man, neither will we abet in the persecution of any
man for religion's sake; our common relation to others being that of
fellow-citizens and fellow-subjects of one single community; and in
this line of connection we hold out the right hand of fellowship to
all men. But we should conceive ourselves to be unworthy members of
the free and independent States of America, were we unconcernedly to
see or to suffer any treasonable wound, public or private, directly
or indirectly, to be given against the peace and safety of the same.
We inquire not into the rank of the offenders, nor into their
religious persuasion; we have no business with either, our part being
only to find them out and exhibit them to justice.
"A printed paper, dated the 20th of November, and signed 'John
Pemberton,' whom we suppose to be an inhabitant of this city, has
lately been dispersed abroad, a copy of which accompanies this. Had
the framers and publishers of that paper conceived it their duty to
exhort the youth and others of their society, to a patient submission
under the present trying visitations, and humbly to wait the event of
heaven towards them, they had therein shown a Christian temper, and
we had been silent; but the anger and political virulence with which
their instructions are given, and the abuse with which they
stigmatize all ranks of men not thinking like themselves, leave no
doubt on our minds from what spirit their publication proceeded: and
it is disgraceful to the pure cause of truth, that men can dally with
words of the most sacred import, and play them off as mechanically as
if religion consisted only in contrivance. We know of no instance in
which the Quakers have been compelled to bear arms, or to do any
thing which might strain their conscience; wherefore their advice,
'to withstand and refuse to submit to the arbitrary instructions and
ordinances of men,' appear to us a false alarm, and could only be
treasonably calculated to gain favor with our enemies, when they are
seemingly on the brink of invading this State, or, what is still
worse, to weaken the hands of our defence, that their entrance into
this city might be made practicable and easy.
"We disclaim all tumult and disorder in the punishment of offenders;
and wish to be governed, not by temper but by reason, in the manner
of treating them. We are sensible that our cause has suffered by the
two following errors: first, by ill-judged lenity to traitorous
persons in some cases; and, secondly, by only a passionate treatment
of them in others. For the future we disown both, and wish to be
steady in our proceedings, and serious in our punishments.
"Every State in America has, by the repeated voice of its
inhabitants, directed and authorized the Continental Congress to
publish a formal Declaration of Independence of, and separation from,
the oppressive king and Parliament of Great Britain; and we look on
every man as an enemy, who does not in some line or other, give his
assistance towards supporting the same; at the same time we consider
the offence to be heightened to a degree of unpardonable guilt, when
such persons, under the show of religion, endeavor, either by
writing, speaking, or otherwise, to subvert, overturn, or bring
reproach upon the independence of this continent as declared by
Congress.
"The publishers of the paper signed 'John Pemberton,' have called in
a loud manner to their friends and connections, 'to withstand or
refuse' obedience to whatever 'instructions or ordinances' may be
published, not warranted by (what they call) 'that happy Constitution
under which they and others long enjoyed tranquillity and peace.' If
this be not treason, we know not what may properly be called by that
name.
"To us it is a matter of surprise and astonishment, that men with the
word 'peace, peace,' continually on their lips, should be so fond of
living under and supporting a government, and at the same time
calling it 'happy,' which is never better pleased than when a war-
that has filled India with carnage and famine, Africa with slavery,
and tampered with Indians and negroes to cut the throats of the
freemen of America. We conceive it a disgrace to this State, to
harbor or wink at such palpable hypocrisy. But as we seek not to hurt
the hair of any man's head, when we can make ourselves safe without,
we wish such persons to restore peace to themselves and us, by
removing themselves to some part of the king of Great Britain's
dominions, as by that means they may live unmolested by us and we by
them; for our fixed opinion is, that those who do not deserve a place
among us, ought not to have one.
"We conclude with requesting the Council of Safety to take into
consideration the paper signed 'John Pemberton,' and if it shall
appear to them to be of a dangerous tendency, or of a treasonable
nature, that they would commit the signer, together with such other
persons as they can discover were concerned therein, into custody,
until such time as some mode of trial shall ascertain the full degree
of their guilt and punishment; in the doing of which, we wish their
judges, whoever they may be, to disregard the man, his connections,
interest, riches, poverty, or principles of religion, and to attend
to the nature of his offence only."
The most cavilling sectarian cannot accuse the foregoing with
containing the least ingredient of persecution. The free spirit on
which the American cause is founded, disdains to mix with such an
impurity, and leaves it as rubbish fit only for narrow and suspicious
minds to grovel in. Suspicion and persecution are weeds of the same
dunghill, and flourish together. Had the Quakers minded their
religion and their business, they might have lived through this
dispute in enviable ease, and none would have molested them. The
common phrase with these people is, 'Our principles are peace.' To
which may be replied, and your practices are the reverse; for never
did the conduct of men oppose their own doctrine more notoriously
than the present race of the Quakers. They have artfully changed
themselves into a different sort of people to what they used to be,
and yet have the address to persuade each other that they are not
altered; like antiquated virgins, they see not the havoc deformity
has made upon them, but pleasantly mistaking wrinkles for dimples,
conceive themselves yet lovely and wonder at the stupid world for not
admiring them.
Did no injury arise to the public by this apostacy of the Quakers
from themselves, the public would have nothing to do with it; but as
both the design and consequences are pointed against a cause in which
the whole community are interested, it is therefore no longer a
subject confined to the cognizance of the meeting only, but comes, as
a matter of criminality, before the authority either of the
particular State in which it is acted, or of the continent against
which it operates. Every attempt, now, to support the authority of
the king and Parliament of Great Britain over America, is treason
against every State; therefore it is impossible that any one can
pardon or screen from punishment an offender against all.
But to proceed: while the infatuated Tories of this and other States
were last spring talking of commissioners, accommodation, making the
matter up, and the Lord knows what stuff and nonsense, their good
king and ministry were glutting themselves with the revenge of
reducing America to unconditional submission, and solacing each other
with the certainty of conquering it in one campaign. The following
quotations are from the parliamentary register of the debate's of the
House of Lords, March 5th, 1776:
"The Americans," says Lord Talbot,* "have been obstinate, undutiful,
and ungovernable from the very beginning, from their first early and
infant settlements; and I am every day more and more convinced that
this people never will be brought back to their duty, and the
subordinate relation they stand in to this country, till reduced to
unconditional, effectual submission; no concession on our part, no
lenity, no endurance, will have any other effect but that of
increasing their insolence."
* Steward of the king's household.
"The struggle," says Lord Townsend,* "is now a struggle for power;
the die is cast, and the only point which now remains to be
determined is, in what manner the war can be most effectually
prosecuted and speedily finished, in order to procure that
unconditional submission, which has been so ably stated by the noble
Earl with the white staff" (meaning Lord Talbot;) "and I have no
reason to doubt that the measures now pursuing will put an end to the
war in the course of a single campaign. Should it linger longer, we
shall then have reason to expect that some foreign power will
interfere, and take advantage of our domestic troubles and civil
distractions."
* Formerly General Townsend, at Quebec, and late lord-lieutenant of
Ireland.
Lord Littleton. "My sentiments are pretty well known. I shall only
observe now that lenient measures have had no other effect than to
produce insult after insult; that the more we conceded, the higher
America rose in her demands, and the more insolent she has grown. It
is for this reason that I am now for the most effective and decisive
measures; and am of opinion that no alternative is left us, but to
relinquish America for ever, or finally determine to compel her to
acknowledge the legislative authority of this country; and it is the
principle of an unconditional submission I would be for maintaining."
Can words be more expressive than these? Surely the Tories will
believe the Tory lords! The truth is, they do believe them and know
as fully as any Whig on the continent knows, that the king and
ministry never had the least design of an accommodation with America,
but an absolute, unconditional conquest. And the part which the
Tories were to act, was, by downright lying, to endeavor to put the
continent off its guard, and to divide and sow discontent in the
minds of such Whigs as they might gain an influence over. In short,
to keep up a distraction here, that the force sent from England might
be able to conquer in "one campaign." They and the ministry were, by
a different game, playing into each other's hands. The cry of the
Tories in England was, "No reconciliation, no accommodation," in
order to obtain the greater military force; while those in America
were crying nothing but "reconciliation and accommodation," that the
force sent might conquer with the less resistance.
But this "single campaign" is over, and America not conquered. The
whole work is yet to do, and the force much less to do it with. Their
condition is both despicable and deplorable: out of cash- out of
heart, and out of hope. A country furnished with arms and ammunition
as America now is, with three millions of inhabitants, and three
thousand miles distant from the nearest enemy that can approach her,
is able to look and laugh them in the face.
Howe appears to have two objects in view, either to go up the North
River, or come to Philadelphia.
By going up the North River, he secures a retreat for his army
through Canada, but the ships must return if they return at all, the
same way they went; as our army would be in the rear, the safety of
their passage down is a doubtful matter. By such a motion he shuts
himself from all supplies from Europe, but through Canada, and
exposes his army and navy to the danger of perishing. The idea of his
cutting off the communication between the eastern and southern
states, by means of the North River, is merely visionary. He cannot
do it by his shipping; because no ship can lay long at anchor in any
river within reach of the shore; a single gun would drive a first
rate from such a station. This was fully proved last October at Forts
Washington and Lee, where one gun only, on each side of the river,
obliged two frigates to cut and be towed off in an hour's time.
Neither can he cut it off by his army; because the several posts they
must occupy would divide them almost to nothing, and expose them to
be picked up by ours like pebbles on a river's bank; but admitting
that he could, where is the injury? Because, while his whole force is
cantoned out, as sentries over the water, they will be very
innocently employed, and the moment they march into the country the
communication opens.
The most probable object is Philadelphia, and the reasons are many.
Howe's business is to conquer it, and in proportion as he finds
himself unable to the task, he will employ his strength to distress
women and weak minds, in order to accomplish through their fears what
he cannot accomplish by his own force. His coming or attempting to
come to Philadelphia is a circumstance that proves his weakness: for
no general that felt himself able to take the field and attack his
antagonist would think of bringing his army into a city in the summer
time; and this mere shifting the scene from place to place, without
effecting any thing, has feebleness and cowardice on the face of it,
and holds him up in a contemptible light to all who can reason justly
and firmly. By several informations from New York, it appears that
their army in general, both officers and men, have given up the
expectation of conquering America; their eye now is fixed upon the
spoil. They suppose Philadelphia to be rich with stores, and as they
think to get more by robbing a town than by attacking an army, their
movement towards this city is probable. We are not now contending
against an army of soldiers, but against a band of thieves, who had
rather plunder than fight, and have no other hope of conquest than by
cruelty.
They expect to get a mighty booty, and strike another general panic,
by making a sudden movement and getting possession of this city; but
unless they can march out as well as in, or get the entire command of
the river, to remove off their plunder, they may probably be stopped
with the stolen goods upon them. They have never yet succeeded
wherever they have been opposed, but at Fort Washington. At
Charleston their defeat was effectual. At Ticonderoga they ran away.
In every skirmish at Kingsbridge and the White Plains they were
obliged to retreat, and the instant that our arms were turned upon
them in the Jerseys, they turned likewise, and those that turned not
were taken.
The necessity of always fitting our internal police to the
circumstances of the times we live in, is something so strikingly
obvious, that no sufficient objection can be made against it. The
safety of all societies depends upon it; and where this point is not
attended to, the consequences will either be a general languor or a
tumult. The encouragement and protection of the good subjects of any
state, and the suppression and punishment of bad ones, are the
principal objects for which all authority is instituted, and the line
in which it ought to operate. We have in this city a strange variety
of men and characters, and the circumstances of the times require
that they should be publicly known; it is not the number of Tories
that hurt us, so much as the not finding out who they are; men must
now take one side or the other, and abide by the consequences: the
Quakers, trusting to their short-sighted sagacity, have, most
unluckily for them, made their declaration in their last Testimony,
and we ought now to take them at their word. They have involuntarily
read themselves out of the continental meeting, and cannot hope to be
restored to it again but by payment and penitence. Men whose
political principles are founded on avarice, are beyond the reach of
reason, and the only cure of Toryism of this cast is to tax it. A
substantial good drawn from a real evil, is of the same benefit to
society, as if drawn from a virtue; and where men have not public
spirit to render themselves serviceable, it ought to be the study of
government to draw the best use possible from their vices. When the
governing passion of any man, or set of men, is once known, the
method of managing them is easy; for even misers, whom no public
virtue can impress, would become generous, could a heavy tax be laid
upon covetousness.
The Tories have endeavored to insure their property with the enemy,
by forfeiting their reputation with us; from which may be justly
inferred, that their governing passion is avarice. Make them as much
afraid of losing on one side as on the other, and you stagger their
Toryism; make them more so, and you reclaim them; for their principle
is to worship the power which they are most afraid of.
This method of considering men and things together, opens into a
large field for speculation, and affords me an opportunity of
offering some observations on the state of our currency, so as to
make the support of it go hand in hand with the suppression of
disaffection and the encouragement of public spirit.
The thing which first presents itself in inspecting the state of the
currency, is, that we have too much of it, and that there is a
necessity of reducing the quantity, in order to increase the value.
Men are daily growing poor by the very means that they take to get
rich; for in the same proportion that the prices of all goods on hand
are raised, the value of all money laid by is reduced. A simple case
will make this clear; let a man have 100 L. in cash, and as many
goods on hand as will to-day sell for 20 L.; but not content with the
present market price, he raises them to 40 L. and by so doing obliges
others, in their own defence, to raise cent. per cent. likewise; in
this case it is evident that his hundred pounds laid by, is reduced
fifty pounds in value; whereas, had the market lowered cent. per
cent., his goods would have sold but for ten, but his hundred pounds
would have risen in value to two hundred; because it would then
purchase as many goods again, or support his family as long again as
before. And, strange as it may seem, he is one hundred and fifty
pounds the poorer for raising his goods, to what he would have been
had he lowered them; because the forty pounds which his goods sold
for, is, by the general raise of the market cent. per cent., rendered
of no more value than the ten pounds would be had the market fallen
in the same proportion; and, consequently, the whole difference of
gain or loss is on the difference in value of the hundred pounds laid
by, viz. from fifty to two hundred. This rage for raising goods is
for several reasons much more the fault of the Tories than the Whigs;
and yet the Tories (to their shame and confusion ought they to be
told of it) are by far the most noisy and discontented. The greatest
part of the Whigs, by being now either in the army or employed in
some public service, are buyers only and not sellers, and as this
evil has its origin in trade, it cannot be charged on those who are
out of it.
But the grievance has now become too general to be remedied by
partial methods, and the only effectual cure is to reduce the
quantity of money: with half the quantity we should be richer than we
are now, because the value of it would be doubled, and consequently
our attachment to it increased; for it is not the number of dollars
that a man has, but how far they will go, that makes him either rich
or poor. These two points being admitted, viz. that the quantity of
money is too great, and that the prices of goods can only be
effectually reduced by, reducing the quantity of the money, the next
point to be considered is, the method how to reduce it.
The circumstances of the times, as before observed, require that the
public characters of all men should now be fully understood, and the
only general method of ascertaining it is by an oath or affirmation,
renouncing all allegiance to the king of Great Britain, and to
support the independence of the United States, as declared by
Congress. Let, at the same time, a tax of ten, fifteen, or twenty per
cent. per annum, to be collected quarterly, be levied on all
property. These alternatives, by being perfectly voluntary, will take
in all sorts of people. Here is the test; here is the tax. He who
takes the former, conscientiously proves his affection to the cause,
and binds himself to pay his quota by the best services in his power,
and is thereby justly exempt from the latter; and those who choose
the latter, pay their quota in money, to be excused from the former,
or rather, it is the price paid to us for their supposed, though
mistaken, insurance with the enemy.
But this is only a part of the advantage which would arise by knowing
the different characters of men. The Whigs stake everything on the
issue of their arms, while the Tories, by their disaffection, are
sapping and undermining their strength; and, of consequence, the
property of the Whigs is the more exposed thereby; and whatever
injury their estates may sustain by the movements of the enemy, must
either be borne by themselves, who have done everything which has yet
been done, or by the Tories, who have not only done nothing, but
have, by their disaffection, invited the enemy on.
In the present crisis we ought to know, square by square and house by
house, who are in real allegiance with the United Independent States,
and who are not. Let but the line be made clear and distinct, and all
men will then know what they are to trust to. It would not only be
good policy but strict justice, to raise fifty or one hundred
thousand pounds, or more, if it is necessary, out of the estates and
property of the king of England's votaries, resident in Philadelphia,
to be distributed, as a reward to those inhabitants of the city and
State, who should turn out and repulse the enemy, should they attempt
to march this way; and likewise, to bind the property of all such
persons to make good the damages which that of the Whigs might
sustain. In the undistinguishable mode of conducting a war, we
frequently make reprisals at sea, on the vessels of persons in
England, who are friends to our cause compared with the resident
Tories among us.
In every former publication of mine, from Common Sense down to the
last Crisis, I have generally gone on the charitable supposition,
that the Tories were rather a mistaken than a criminal people, and
have applied argument after argument, with all the candor and temper
which I was capable of, in order to set every part of the case
clearly and fairly before them, and if possible to reclaim them from
ruin to reason. I have done my duty by them and have now done with
that doctrine, taking it for granted, that those who yet hold their
disaffection are either a set of avaricious miscreants, who would
sacrifice the continent to save themselves, or a banditti of hungry
traitors, who are hoping for a division of the spoil. To which may be
added, a list of crown or proprietary dependants, who, rather than go
without a portion of power, would be content to share it with the
devil. Of such men there is no hope; and their obedience will only be
according to the danger set before them, and the power that is
exercised over them.
A time will shortly arrive, in which, by ascertaining the characters
of persons now, we shall be guarded against their mischiefs then; for
in proportion as the enemy despair of conquest, they will be trying
the arts of seduction and the force of fear by all the mischiefs
which they can inflict. But in war we may be certain of these two
things, viz. that cruelty in an enemy, and motions made with more
than usual parade, are always signs of weakness. He that can conquer,
finds his mind too free and pleasant to be brutish; and he that
intends to conquer, never makes too much show of his strength.
We now know the enemy we have to do with. While drunk with the
certainty of victory, they disdained to be civil; and in proportion
as disappointment makes them sober, and their apprehensions of an
European war alarm them, they will become cringing and artful; honest
they cannot be. But our answer to them, in either condition they may
be in, is short and full- "As free and independent States we are
willing to make peace with you to-morrow, but we neither can hear nor
reply in any other character."
If Britain cannot conquer us, it proves that she is neither able to
govern nor protect us, and our particular situation now is such, that
any connection with her would be unwisely exchanging a half-defeated
enemy for two powerful ones. Europe, by every appearance, is now on
the eve, nay, on the morning twilight of a war, and any alliance with
George the Third brings France and Spain upon our backs; a separation
from him attaches them to our side; therefore, the only road to
peace, honor and commerce is Independence.
Written this fourth year of the UNION, which God preserve.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, April 19, 1777.
The Crisis
IV.
THOSE who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men,
undergo the fatigues of supporting it. The event of yesterday was one
of those kind of alarms which is just sufficient to rouse us to duty,
without being of consequence enough to depress our fortitude. It is
not a field of a few acres of ground, but a cause, that we are
defending, and whether we defeat the enemy in one battle, or by
degrees, the consequences will be the same.
Look back at the events of last winter and the present year, there
you will find that the enemy's successes always contributed to reduce
them. What they have gained in ground, they paid so dearly for in
numbers, that their victories have in the end amounted to defeats. We
have always been masters at the last push, and always shall be while
we do our duty. Howe has been once on the banks of the Delaware, and
from thence driven back with loss and disgrace: and why not be again
driven from the Schuylkill? His condition and ours are very
different. He has everybody to fight, we have only his one army to
cope with, and which wastes away at every engagement: we can not only
reinforce, but can redouble our numbers; he is cut off from all
supplies, and must sooner or later inevitably fall into our hands.
Shall a band of ten or twelve thousand robbers, who are this day
fifteen hundred or two thousand men less in strength than they were
yesterday, conquer America, or subdue even a single state? The thing
cannot be, unless we sit down and suffer them to do it. Another such
a brush, notwithstanding we lost the ground, would, by still reducing
the enemy, put them in a condition to be afterwards totally defeated.
Could our whole army have come up to the attack at one time, the
consequences had probably been otherwise; but our having different
parts of the Brandywine creek to guard, and the uncertainty which
road to Philadelphia the enemy would attempt to take, naturally
afforded them an opportunity of passing with their main body at a
place where only a part of ours could be posted; for it must strike
every thinking man with conviction, that it requires a much greater
force to oppose an enemy in several places, than is sufficient to
defeat him in any one place.
Men who are sincere in defending their freedom, will always feel
concern at every circumstance which seems to make against them; it is
the natural and honest consequence of all affectionate attachments,
and the want of it is a vice. But the dejection lasts only for a
moment; they soon rise out of it with additional vigor; the glow of
hope, courage and fortitude, will, in a little time, supply the place
of every inferior passion, and kindle the whole heart into heroism.
There is a mystery in the countenance of some causes, which we have
not always present judgment enough to explain. It is distressing to
see an enemy advancing into a country, but it is the only place in
which we can beat them, and in which we have always beaten them,
whenever they made the attempt. The nearer any disease approaches to
a crisis, the nearer it is to a cure. Danger and deliverance make
their advances together, and it is only the last push, in which one
or the other takes the lead.
There are many men who will do their duty when it is not wanted; but
a genuine public spirit always appears most when there is most
occasion for it. Thank God! our army, though fatigued, is yet entire.
The attack made by us yesterday, was under many disadvantages,
naturally arising from the uncertainty of knowing which route the
enemy would take; and, from that circumstance, the whole of our force
could not be brought up together time enough to engage all at once.
Our strength is yet reserved; and it is evident that Howe does not
think himself a gainer by the affair, otherwise he would this morning
have moved down and attacked General Washington.
Gentlemen of the city and country, it is in your power, by a spirited
improvement of the present circumstance, to turn it to a real
advantage. Howe is now weaker than before, and every shot will
contribute to reduce him. You are more immediately interested than
any other part of the continent: your all is at stake; it is not so
with the general cause; you are devoted by the enemy to plunder and
destruction: it is the encouragement which Howe, the chief of
plunderers, has promised his army. Thus circumstanced, you may save
yourselves by a manly resistance, but you can have no hope in any
other conduct. I never yet knew our brave general, or any part of the
army, officers or men, out of heart, and I have seen them in
circumstances a thousand times more trying than the present. It is
only those that are not in action, that feel languor and heaviness,
and the best way to rub it off is to turn out, and make sure work of
it.
Our army must undoubtedly feel fatigue, and want a reinforcement of
rest though not of valor. Our own interest and happiness call upon us
to give them every support in our power, and make the burden of the
day, on which the safety of this city depends, as light as possible.
Remember, gentlemen, that we have forces both to the northward and
southward of Philadelphia, and if the enemy be but stopped till those
can arrive, this city will be saved, and the enemy finally routed.
You have too much at stake to hesitate. You ought not to think an
hour upon the matter, but to spring to action at once. Other states
have been invaded, have likewise driven off the invaders. Now our
time and turn is come, and perhaps the finishing stroke is reserved
for us. When we look back on the dangers we have been saved from, and
reflect on the success we have been blessed with, it would be sinful
either to be idle or to despair.
I close this paper with a short address to General Howe. You, sir,
are only lingering out the period that shall bring with it your
defeat. You have yet scarce began upon the war, and the further you
enter, the faster will your troubles thicken. What you now enjoy is
only a respite from ruin; an invitation to destruction; something
that will lead on to our deliverance at your expense. We know the
cause which we are engaged in, and though a passionate fondness for
it may make us grieve at every injury which threatens it, yet, when
the moment of concern is over, the determination to duty returns. We
are not moved by the gloomy smile of a worthless king, but by the
ardent glow of generous patriotism. We fight not to enslave, but to
set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to
live in. In such a case we are sure that we are right; and we leave
to you the despairing reflection of being the tool of a miserable
tyrant.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 12, 1777.
THE CRISIS.
V.
TO GEN. SIR WILLIAM HOWE.
TO argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of
reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in
contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring
to convert an atheist by scripture. Enjoy, sir, your insensibility of
feeling and reflecting. It is the prerogative of animals. And no man
will envy you these honors, in which a savage only can be your rival
and a bear your master.
As the generosity of this country rewarded your brother's services in
the last war, with an elegant monument in Westminster Abbey, it is
consistent that she should bestow some mark of distinction upon you.
You certainly deserve her notice, and a conspicuous place in the
catalogue of extraordinary persons. Yet it would be a pity to pass
you from the world in state, and consign you to magnificent oblivion
among the tombs, without telling the future beholder why. Judas is as
much known as John, yet history ascribes their fame to very different
actions.
Sir William has undoubtedly merited a monument; but of what kind, or
with what inscription, where placed or how embellished, is a question
that would puzzle all the heralds of St. James's in the profoundest
mood of historical deliberation. We are at no loss, sir, to ascertain
your real character, but somewhat perplexed how to perpetuate its
identity, and preserve it uninjured from the transformations of time
or mistake. A statuary may give a false expression to your bust, or
decorate it with some equivocal emblems, by which you may happen to
steal into reputation and impose upon the hereafter traditionary
world. Ill nature or ridicule may conspire, or a variety of accidents
combine to lessen, enlarge, or change Sir William's fame; and no
doubt but he who has taken so much pains to be singular in his
conduct, would choose to be just as singular in his exit, his
monument and his epitaph.
The usual honors of the dead, to be sure, are not sufficiently
sublime to escort a character like you to the republic of dust and
ashes; for however men may differ in their ideas of grandeur or of
government here, the grave is nevertheless a perfect republic. Death
is not the monarch of the dead, but of the dying. The moment he
obtains a conquest he loses a subject, and, like the foolish king you
serve, will, in the end, war himself out of all his dominions.
As a proper preliminary towards the arrangement of your funeral
honors, we readily admit of your new rank of knighthood. The title is
perfectly in character, and is your own, more by merit than creation.
There are knights of various orders, from the knight of the windmill
to the knight of the post. The former is your patron for exploits,
and the latter will assist you in settling your accounts. No honorary
title could be more happily applied! The ingenuity is sublime! And
your royal master has discovered more genius in fitting you
therewith, than in generating the most finished figure for a button,
or descanting on the properties of a button mould.
But how, sir, shall we dispose of you? The invention of a statuary is
exhausted, and Sir William is yet unprovided with a monument. America
is anxious to bestow her funeral favors upon you, and wishes to do it
in a manner that shall distinguish you from all the deceased heroes
of the last war. The Egyptian method of embalming is not known to the
present age, and hieroglyphical pageantry hath outlived the science
of deciphering it. Some other method, therefore, must be thought of
to immortalize the new knight of the windmill and post. Sir William,
thanks to his stars, is not oppressed with very delicate ideas. He
has no ambition of being wrapped up and handed about in myrrh, aloes
and cassia. Less expensive odors will suffice; and it fortunately
happens that the simple genius of America has discovered the art of
preserving bodies, and embellishing them too, with much greater
frugality than the ancients. In balmage, sir, of humble tar, you will
be as secure as Pharaoh, and in a hieroglyphic of feathers, rival in
finery all the mummies of Egypt.
As you have already made your exit from the moral world, and by
numberless acts both of passionate and deliberate injustice engraved
an "here lieth" on your deceased honor, it must be mere affectation
in you to pretend concern at the humors or opinions of mankind
respecting you. What remains of you may expire at any time. The
sooner the better. For he who survives his reputation, lives out of
despite of himself, like a man listening to his own reproach.
Thus entombed and ornamented, I leave you to the inspection of the
curious, and return to the history of your yet surviving actions. The
character of Sir William has undergone some extraordinary
revolutions. since his arrival in America. It is now fixed and known;
and we have nothing to hope from your candor or to fear from your
capacity. Indolence and inability have too large a share in your
composition, ever to suffer you to be anything more than the hero of
little villainies and unfinished adventures. That, which to some
persons appeared moderation in you at first, was not produced by any
real virtue of your own, but by a contrast of passions, dividing and
holding you in perpetual irresolution. One vice will frequently expel
another, without the least merit in the man; as powers in contrary
directions reduce each other to rest.
It became you to have supported a dignified solemnity of character;
to have shown a superior liberality of soul; to have won respect by
an obstinate perseverance in maintaining order, and to have exhibited
on all occasions such an unchangeable graciousness of conduct, that
while we beheld in you the resolution of an enemy, we might admire in
you the sincerity of a man. You came to America under the high
sounding titles of commander and commissioner; not only to suppress
what you call rebellion, by arms, but to shame it out of countenance
by the excellence of your example. Instead of which, you have been
the patron of low and vulgar frauds, the encourager of Indian
cruelties; and have imported a cargo of vices blacker than those
which you pretend to suppress.
Mankind are not universally agreed in their determination of right
and wrong; but there are certain actions which the consent of all
nations and individuals has branded with the unchangeable name of
meanness. In the list of human vices we find some of such a refined
constitution, they cannot be carried into practice without seducing
some virtue to their assistance; but meanness has neither alliance
nor apology. It is generated in the dust and sweepings of other
vices, and is of such a hateful figure that all the rest conspire to
disown it. Sir William, the commissioner of George the Third, has at
last vouchsafed to give it rank and pedigree. He has placed the
fugitive at the council board, and dubbed it companion of the order
of knighthood.
The particular act of meanness which I allude to in this description,
is forgery. You, sir, have abetted and patronized the forging and
uttering counterfeit continental bills. In the same New York
newspapers in which your own proclamation under your master's
authority was published, offering, or pretending to offer, pardon and
protection to these states, there were repeated advertisements of
counterfeit money for sale, and persons who have come officially from
you, and under the sanction of your flag, have been taken up in
attempting to put them off.
A conduct so basely mean in a public character is without precedent
or pretence. Every nation on earth, whether friends or enemies, will
unite in despising you. 'Tis an incendiary war upon society, which
nothing can excuse or palliate,- an improvement upon beggarly
villany- and shows an inbred wretchedness of heart made up between
the venomous malignity of a serpent and the spiteful imbecility of an
inferior reptile.
The laws of any civilized country would condemn you to the gibbet
without regard to your rank or titles, because it is an action
foreign to the usage and custom of war; and should you fall into our
hands, which pray God you may, it will be a doubtful matter whether
we are to consider you as a military prisoner or a prisoner for
felony.
Besides, it is exceedingly unwise and impolitic in you, or any other
persons in the English service, to promote or even encourage, or wink
at the crime of forgery, in any case whatever. Because, as the riches
of England, as a nation, are chiefly in paper, and the far greater
part of trade among individuals is carried on by the same medium,
that is, by notes and drafts on one another, they, therefore, of all
people in the world, ought to endeavor to keep forgery out of sight,
and, if possible, not to revive the idea of it. It is dangerous to
make men familiar with a crime which they may afterwards practise to
much greater advantage against those who first taught them. Several
officers in the English army have made their exit at the gallows for
forgery on their agents; for we all know, who know any thing of
England, that there is not a more necessitous body of men, taking
them generally, than what the English officers are. They contrive to
make a show at the expense of the tailors, and appear clean at the
charge of the washer-women.
England, has at this time, nearly two hundred million pounds sterling
of public money in paper, for which she has no real property: besides
a large circulation of bank notes, bank post bills, and promissory
notes and drafts of private bankers, merchants and tradesmen. She has
the greatest quantity of paper currency and the least quantity of
gold and silver of any nation in Europe; the real specie, which is
about sixteen millions sterling, serves only as change in large sums,
which are always made in paper, or for payment in small ones. Thus
circumstanced, the nation is put to its wit's end, and obliged to be
severe almost to criminality, to prevent the practice and growth of
forgery. Scarcely a session passes at the Old Bailey, or an execution
at Tyburn, but witnesses this truth, yet you, sir, regardless of the
policy which her necessity obliges her to adopt, have made your whole
army intimate with the crime. And as all armies at the conclusion of
a war, are too apt to carry into practice the vices of the campaign,
it will probably happen, that England will hereafter abound in
forgeries, to which art the practitioners were first initiated under
your authority in America. You, sir, have the honor of adding a new
vice to the military catalogue; and the reason, perhaps, why the
invention was reserved for you, is, because no general before was
mean enough even to think of it.
That a man whose soul is absorbed in the low traffic of vulgar vice,
is incapable of moving in any superior region, is clearly shown in
you by the event of every campaign. Your military exploits have been
without plan, object or decision. Can it be possible that you or your
employers suppose that the possession of Philadelphia will be any
ways equal to the expense or expectation of the nation which supports
you? What advantages does England derive from any achievements of
yours? To her it is perfectly indifferent what place you are in, so
long as the business of conquest is unperformed and the charge of
maintaining you remains the same.
If the principal events of the three campaigns be attended to, the
balance will appear against you at the close of each; but the last,
in point of importance to us, has exceeded the former two. It is
pleasant to look back on dangers past, and equally as pleasant to
meditate on present ones when the way out begins to appear. That
period is now arrived, and the long doubtful winter of war is
changing to the sweeter prospects of victory and joy. At the close of
the campaign, in 1775, you were obliged to retreat from Boston. In
the summer of 1776, you appeared with a numerous fleet and army in
the harbor of New York. By what miracle the continent was preserved
in that season of danger is a subject of admiration! If instead of
wasting your time against Long Island you had run up the North River,
and landed any where above New York, the consequence must have been,
that either you would have compelled General Washington to fight you
with very unequal numbers, or he must have suddenly evacuated the
city with the loss of nearly all the stores of his army, or have
surrendered for want of provisions; the situation of the place
naturally producing one or the other of these events.
The preparations made to defend New York were, nevertheless, wise and
military; because your forces were then at sea, their numbers
uncertain; storms, sickness, or a variety of accidents might have
disabled their coming, or so diminished them on their passage, that
those which survived would have been incapable of opening the
campaign with any prospect of success; in which case the defence
would have been sufficient and the place preserved; for cities that
have been raised from nothing with an infinitude of labor and
expense, are not to be thrown away on the bare probability of their
being taken. On these grounds the preparations made to maintain New
York were as judicious as the retreat afterwards. While you, in the
interim, let slip the very opportunity which seemed to put conquest
in your power.
Through the whole of that campaign you had nearly double the forces
which General Washington immediately commanded. The principal plan at
that time, on our part, was to wear away the season with as little
loss as possible, and to raise the army for the next year. Long
Island, New York, Forts Washington and Lee were not defended after
your superior force was known under any expectation of their being
finally maintained, but as a range of outworks, in the attacking of
which your time might be wasted, your numbers reduced, and your
vanity amused by possessing them on our retreat. It was intended to
have withdrawn the garrison from Fort Washington after it had
answered the former of those purposes, but the fate of that day put a
prize into your hands without much honor to yourselves.
Your progress through the Jerseys was accidental; you had it not even
in contemplation, or you would not have sent a principal part of your
forces to Rhode Island beforehand. The utmost hope of America in the
year 1776, reached no higher than that she might not then be
conquered. She had no expectation of defeating you in that campaign.
Even the most cowardly Tory allowed, that, could she withstand the
shock of that summer, her independence would be past a doubt. You had
then greatly the advantage of her. You were formidable. Your military
knowledge was supposed to be complete. Your fleets and forces arrived
without an accident. You had neither experience nor reinforcements to
wait for. You had nothing to do but to begin, and your chance lay in
the first vigorous onset.
America was young and unskilled. She was obliged to trust her defence
to time and practice; and has, by mere dint of perseverance,
maintained her cause, and brought the enemy to a condition, in which
she is now capable of meeting him on any grounds.
It is remarkable that in the campaign of 1776 you gained no more,
notwithstanding your great force, than what was given you by consent
of evacuation, except Fort Washington; while every advantage obtained
by us was by fair and hard fighting. The defeat of Sir Peter Parker
was complete. The conquest of the Hessians at Trenton, by the remains
of a retreating army, which but a few days before you affected to
despise, is an instance of their heroic perseverance very seldom to
be met with. And the victory over the British troops at Princeton, by
a harassed and wearied party, who had been engaged the day before and
marched all night without refreshment, is attended with such a scene
of circumstances and superiority of generalship, as will ever give it
a place in the first rank in the history of great actions.
When I look back on the gloomy days of last winter, and see America
suspended by a thread, I feel a triumph of joy at the recollection of
her delivery, and a reverence for the characters which snatched her
from destruction. To doubt now would be a species of infidelity, and
to forget the instruments which saved us then would be ingratitude.
The close of that campaign left us with the spirit of conquerors. The
northern districts were relieved by the retreat of General Carleton
over the lakes. The army under your command were hunted back and had
their bounds prescribed. The continent began to feel its military
importance, and the winter passed pleasantly away in preparations for
the next campaign.
However confident you might be on your first arrival, the result of
the year 1776 gave you some idea of the difficulty, if not
impossibility of conquest. To this reason I ascribe your delay in
opening the campaign of 1777. The face of matters, on the close of
the former year, gave you no encouragement to pursue a discretionary
war as soon as the spring admitted the taking the field; for though
conquest, in that case, would have given you a double portion of
fame, yet the experiment was too hazardous. The ministry, had you
failed, would have shifted the whole blame upon you, charged you with
having acted without orders, and condemned at once both your plan and
execution.
To avoid the misfortunes, which might have involved you and your
money accounts in perplexity and suspicion, you prudently waited the
arrival of a plan of operations from England, which was that you
should proceed for Philadelphia by way of the Chesapeake, and that
Burgoyne, after reducing Ticonderoga, should take his route by
Albany, and, if necessary, join you.
The splendid laurels of the last campaign have flourished in the
north. In that quarter America has surprised the world, and laid the
foundation of this year's glory. The conquest of Ticonderoga, (if it
may be called a conquest) has, like all your other victories, led on
to ruin. Even the provisions taken in that fortress (which by General
Burgoyne's return was sufficient in bread and flour for nearly 5000
men for ten weeks, and in beef and pork for the same number of men
for one month) served only to hasten his overthrow, by enabling him
to proceed to Saratoga, the place of his destruction. A short review
of the operations of the last campaign will show the condition of
affairs on both sides.
You have taken Ticonderoga and marched into Philadelphia. These are
all the events which the year has produced on your part. A trifling
campaign indeed, compared with the expenses of England and the
conquest of the continent. On the other side, a considerable part of
your northern force has been routed by the New York militia under
General Herkemer. Fort Stanwix has bravely survived a compound attack
of soldiers and savages, and the besiegers have fled. The Battle of
Bennington has put a thousand prisoners into our hands, with all
their arms, stores, artillery and baggage. General Burgoyne, in two
engagements, has been defeated; himself, his army, and all that were
his and theirs are now ours. Ticonderoga and Independence [forts] are
retaken, and not the shadow of an enemy remains in all the northern
districts. At this instant we have upwards of eleven thousand
prisoners, between sixty and seventy [captured] pieces of brass
ordnance, besides small arms, tents, stores, etc.
In order to know the real value of those advantages, we must reverse
the scene, and suppose General Gates and the force he commanded to be
at your mercy as prisoners, and General Burgoyne, with his army of
soldiers and savages, to be already joined to you in Pennsylvania. So
dismal a picture can scarcely be looked at. It has all the tracings
and colorings of horror and despair; and excites the most swelling
emotions of gratitude by exhibiting the miseries we are so graciously
preserved from.
I admire the distribution of laurels around the continent. It is the
earnest of future union. South Carolina has had her day of sufferings
and of fame; and the other southern States have exerted themselves in
proportion to the force that invaded or insulted them. Towards the
close of the campaign, in 1776, these middle States were called upon
and did their duty nobly. They were witnesses to the almost expiring
flame of human freedom. It was the close struggle of life and death,
the line of invisible division; and on which the unabated fortitude
of a Washington prevailed, and saved the spark that has since blazed
in the north with unrivalled lustre.
Let me ask, sir, what great exploits have you performed? Through all
the variety of changes and opportunities which the war has produced,
I know no one action of yours that can be styled masterly. You have
moved in and out, backward and forward, round and round, as if valor
consisted in a military jig. The history and figure of your movements
would be truly ridiculous could they be justly delineated. They
resemble the labors of a puppy pursuing his tail; the end is still at
the same distance, and all the turnings round must be done over again.
The first appearance of affairs at Ticonderoga wore such an
unpromising aspect, that it was necessary, in July, to detach a part
of the forces to the support of that quarter, which were otherwise
destined or intended to act against you; and this, perhaps, has been
the means of postponing your downfall to another campaign. The
destruction of one army at a time is work enough. We know, sir, what
we are about, what we have to do, and how to do it.
Your progress from the Chesapeake, was marked by no capital stroke of
policy or heroism. Your principal aim was to get General Washington
between the Delaware and Schuylkill, and between Philadelphia and
your army. In that situation, with a river on each of his flanks,
which united about five miles below the city, and your army above
him, you could have intercepted his reinforcements and supplies, cut
off all his communication with the country, and, if necessary, have
despatched assistance to open a passage for General Burgoyne. This
scheme was too visible to succeed: for had General Washington
suffered you to command the open country above him, I think it a very
reasonable conjecture that the conquest of Burgoyne would not have
taken place, because you could, in that case, have relieved him. It
was therefore necessary, while that important victory was in
suspense, to trepan you into a situation in which you could only be
on the defensive, without the power of affording him assistance. The
manoeuvre had its effect, and Burgoyne was conquered.
There has been something unmilitary and passive in you from the time
of your passing the Schuylkill and getting possession of
Philadelphia, to the close of the campaign. You mistook a trap for a
conquest, the probability of which had been made known to Europe, and
the edge of your triumph taken off by our own information long before.
Having got you into this situation, a scheme for a general attack
upon you at Germantown was carried into execution on the 4th of
October, and though the success was not equal to the excellence of
the plan, yet the attempting it proved the genius of America to be on
the rise, and her power approaching to superiority. The obscurity of
the morning was your best friend, for a fog is always favorable to a
hunted enemy. Some weeks after this you likewise planned an attack on
General Washington while at Whitemarsh. You marched out with infinite
parade, but on finding him preparing to attack you next morning, you
prudently turned about, and retreated to Philadelphia with all the
precipitation of a man conquered in imagination.
Immediately after the battle of Germantown, the probability of
Burgoyne's defeat gave a new policy to affairs in Pennsylvania, and
it was judged most consistent with the general safety of America, to
wait the issue of the northern campaign. Slow and sure is sound work.
The news of that victory arrived in our camp on the 18th of October,
and no sooner did that shout of joy, and the report of the thirteen
cannon reach your ears, than you resolved upon a retreat, and the
next day, that is, on the 19th, you withdrew your drooping army into
Philadelphia. This movement was evidently dictated by fear; and
carried with it a positive confession that you dreaded a second
attack. It was hiding yourself among women and children, and sleeping
away the choicest part of the campaign in expensive inactivity. An
army in a city can never be a conquering army. The situation admits
only of defence. It is mere shelter: and every military power in
Europe will conclude you to be eventually defeated.
The time when you made this retreat was the very time you ought to
have fought a battle, in order to put yourself in condition of
recovering in Pennsylvania what you had lost in Saratoga. And the
reason why you did not, must be either prudence or cowardice; the
former supposes your inability, and the latter needs no explanation.
I draw no conclusions, sir, but such as are naturally deduced from
known and visible facts, and such as will always have a being while
the facts which produced them remain unaltered.
After this retreat a new difficulty arose which exhibited the power
of Britain in a very contemptible light; which was the attack and
defence of Mud Island. For several weeks did that little unfinished
fortress stand out against all the attempts of Admiral and General
Howe. It was the fable of Bender realized on the Delaware. Scheme
after scheme, and force upon force were tried and defeated. The
garrison, with scarce anything to cover them but their bravery,
survived in the midst of mud, shot and shells, and were at last
obliged to give it up more to the powers of time and gunpowder than
to military superiority of the besiegers.
It is my sincere opinion that matters are in much worse condition
with you than what is generally known. Your master's speech at the
opening of Parliament, is like a soliloquy on ill luck. It shows him
to be coming a little to his reason, for sense of pain is the first
symptom of recovery, in profound stupefaction. His condition is
deplorable. He is obliged to submit to all the insults of France and
Spain, without daring to know or resent them; and thankful for the
most trivial evasions to the most humble remonstrances. The time was
when he could not deign an answer to a petition from America, and the
time now is when he dare not give an answer to an affront from
France. The capture of Burgoyne's army will sink his consequence as
much in Europe as in America. In his speech he expresses his
suspicions at the warlike preparations of France and Spain, and as he
has only the one army which you command to support his character in
the world with, it remains very uncertain when, or in what quarter it
will be most wanted, or can be best employed; and this will partly
account for the great care you take to keep it from action and
attacks, for should Burgoyne's fate be yours, which it probably will,
England may take her endless farewell not only of all America but of
all the West Indies.
Never did a nation invite destruction upon itself with the eagerness
and the ignorance with which Britain has done. Bent upon the ruin of
a young and unoffending country, she has drawn the sword that has
wounded herself to the heart, and in the agony of her resentment has
applied a poison for a cure. Her conduct towards America is a
compound of rage and lunacy; she aims at the government of it, yet
preserves neither dignity nor character in her methods to obtain it.
Were government a mere manufacture or article of commerce, immaterial
by whom it should be made or sold, we might as well employ her as
another, but when we consider it as the fountain from whence the
general manners and morality of a country take their rise, that the
persons entrusted with the execution thereof are by their serious
example an authority to support these principles, how abominably
absurd is the idea of being hereafter governed by a set of men who
have been guilty of forgery, perjury, treachery, theft and every
species of villany which the lowest wretches on earth could practise
or invent. What greater public curse can befall any country than to
be under such authority, and what greater blessing than to be
delivered therefrom. The soul of any man of sentiment would rise in
brave rebellion against them, and spurn them from the earth.
The malignant and venomous tempered General Vaughan has amused his
savage fancy in burning the whole town of Kingston, in York
government, and the late governor of that state, Mr. Tryon, in his
letter to General Parsons, has endeavored to justify it and declared
his wish to burn the houses of every committeeman in the country.
Such a confession from one who was once intrusted with the powers of
civil government, is a reproach to the character. But it is the wish
and the declaration of a man whom anguish and disappointment have
driven to despair, and who is daily decaying into the grave with
constitutional rottenness.
There is not in the compass of language a sufficiency of words to
express the baseness of your king, his ministry and his army. They
have refined upon villany till it wants a name. To the fiercer vices
of former ages they have added the dregs and scummings of the most
finished rascality, and are so completely sunk in serpentine deceit,
that there is not left among them one generous enemy.
From such men and such masters, may the gracious hand of Heaven
preserve America! And though the sufferings she now endures are
heavy, and severe, they are like straws in the wind compared to the
weight of evils she would feel under the government of your king, and
his pensioned Parliament.
There is something in meanness which excites a species of resentment
that never subsides, and something in cruelty which stirs up the
heart to the highest agony of human hatred; Britain has filled up
both these characters till no addition can be made, and has not
reputation left with us to obtain credit for the slightest promise.
The will of God has parted us, and the deed is registered for
eternity. When she shall be a spot scarcely visible among the
nations, America shall flourish the favorite of heaven, and the
friend of mankind.
For the domestic happiness of Britain and the peace of the world, I
wish she had not a foot of land but what is circumscribed within her
own island. Extent of dominion has been her ruin, and instead of
civilizing others has brutalized herself. Her late reduction of
India, under Clive and his successors, was not so properly a conquest
as an extermination of mankind. She is the only power who could
practise the prodigal barbarity of tying men to mouths of loaded
cannon and blowing them away. It happens that General Burgoyne, who
made the report of that horrid transaction, in the House of Commons,
is now a prisoner with us, and though an enemy, I can appeal to him
for the truth of it, being confident that he neither can nor will
deny it. Yet Clive received the approbation of the last Parliament.
When we take a survey of mankind, we cannot help cursing the wretch,
who, to the unavoidable misfortunes of nature, shall wilfully add the
calamities of war. One would think there were evils enough in the
world without studying to increase them, and that life is
sufficiently short without shaking the sand that measures it. The
histories of Alexander, and Charles of Sweden, are the histories of
human devils; a good man cannot think of their actions without
abhorrence, nor of their deaths without rejoicing. To see the
bounties of heaven destroyed, the beautiful face of nature laid
waste, and the choicest works of creation and art tumbled into ruin,
would fetch a curse from the soul of piety itself. But in this
country the aggravation is heightened by a new combination of
affecting circumstances. America was young, and, compared with other
countries, was virtuous. None but a Herod of uncommon malice would
have made war upon infancy and innocence: and none but a people of
the most finished fortitude, dared under those circumstances, have
resisted the tyranny. The natives, or their ancestors, had fled from
the former oppressions of England, and with the industry of bees had
changed a wilderness into a habitable world. To Britain they were
indebted for nothing. The country was the gift of heaven, and God
alone is their Lord and Sovereign.
The time, sir, will come when you, in a melancholy hour, shall reckon
up your miseries by your murders in America. Life, with you, begins
to wear a clouded aspect. The vision of pleasurable delusion is
wearing away, and changing to the barren wild of age and sorrow. The
poor reflection of having served your king will yield you no
consolation in your parting moments. He will crumble to the same
undistinguished ashes with yourself, and have sins enough of his own
to answer for. It is not the farcical benedictions of a bishop, nor
the cringing hypocrisy of a court of chaplains, nor the formality of
an act of Parliament, that can change guilt into innocence, or make
the punishment one pang the less. You may, perhaps, be unwilling to
be serious, but this destruction of the goods of Providence, this
havoc of the human race, and this sowing the world with mischief,
must be accounted for to him who made and governs it. To us they are
only present sufferings, but to him they are deep rebellions.
If there is a sin superior to every other, it is that of wilful and
offensive war. Most other sins are circumscribed within narrow
limits, that is, the power of one man cannot give them a very general
extension, and many kinds of sins have only a mental existence from
which no infection arises; but he who is the author of a war, lets
loose the whole contagion of hell, and opens a vein that bleeds a
nation to death. We leave it to England and Indians to boast of these
honors; we feel no thirst for such savage glory; a nobler flame, a
purer spirit animates America. She has taken up the sword of virtuous
defence; she has bravely put herself between Tyranny and Freedom,
between a curse and a blessing, determined to expel the one and
protect the other.
It is the object only of war that makes it honorable. And if there
was ever a just war since the world began, it is this in which
America is now engaged. She invaded no land of yours. She hired no
mercenaries to burn your towns, nor Indians to massacre their
inhabitants. She wanted nothing from you, and was indebted for
nothing to you: and thus circumstanced, her defence is honorable and
her prosperity is certain.
Yet it is not on the justice only, but likewise on the importance of
this cause that I ground my seeming enthusiastical confidence of our
success. The vast extension of America makes her of too much value in
the scale of Providence, to be cast like a pearl before swine, at the
feet of an European island; and of much less consequence would it be
that Britain were sunk in the sea than that America should miscarry.
There has been such a chain of extraordinary events in the discovery
of this country at first, in the peopling and planting it afterwards,
in the rearing and nursing it to its present state, and in the
protection of it through the present war, that no man can doubt, but
Providence has some nobler end to accomplish than the gratification
of the petty elector of Hanover, or the ignorant and insignificant
king of Britain.
As the blood of the martyrs has been the seed of the Christian
church, so the political persecutions of England will and have
already enriched America with industry, experience, union, and
importance. Before the present era she was a mere chaos of uncemented
colonies, individually exposed to the ravages of the Indians and the
invasion of any power that Britain should be at war with. She had
nothing that she could call her own. Her felicity depended upon
accident. The convulsions of Europe might have thrown her from one
conqueror to another, till she had been the slave of all, and ruined
by every one; for until she had spirit enough to become her own
master, there was no knowing to which master she should belong. That
period, thank God, is past, and she is no longer the dependent,
disunited colonies of Britain, but the independent and United States
of America, knowing no master but heaven and herself. You, or your
king, may call this "delusion," "rebellion," or what name you please.
To us it is perfectly indifferent. The issue will determine the
character, and time will give it a name as lasting as his own.
You have now, sir, tried the fate of three campaigns, and can fully
declare to England, that nothing is to be got on your part, but blows
and broken bones, and nothing on hers but waste of trade and credit,
and an increase of poverty and taxes. You are now only where you
might have been two years ago, without the loss of a single ship, and
yet not a step more forward towards the conquest of the continent;
because, as I have already hinted, "an army in a city can never be a
conquering army." The full amount of your losses, since the beginning
of the war, exceeds twenty thousand men, besides millions of
treasure, for which you have nothing in exchange. Our expenses,
though great, are circulated within ourselves. Yours is a direct
sinking of money, and that from both ends at once; first, in hiring
troops out of the nation, and in paying them afterwards, because the
money in neither case can return to Britain. We are already in
possession of the prize, you only in pursuit of it. To us it is a
real treasure, to you it would be only an empty triumph. Our expenses
will repay themselves with tenfold interest, while yours entail upon
you everlasting poverty.
Take a review, sir, of the ground which you have gone over, and let
it teach you policy, if it cannot honesty. You stand but on a very
tottering foundation. A change of the ministry in England may
probably bring your measures into question, and your head to the
block. Clive, with all his successes, had some difficulty in
escaping, and yours being all a war of losses, will afford you less
pretensions, and your enemies more grounds for impeachment.
Go home, sir, and endeavor to save the remains of your ruined
country, by a just representation of the madness of her measures. A
few moments, well applied, may yet preserve her from political
destruction. I am not one of those who wish to see Europe in a flame,
because I am persuaded that such an event will not shorten the war.
The rupture, at present, is confined between the two powers of
America and England. England finds that she cannot conquer America,
and America has no wish to conquer England. You are fighting for what
you can never obtain, and we defending what we never mean to part
with. A few words, therefore, settle the bargain. Let England mind
her own business and we will mind ours. Govern yourselves, and we
will govern ourselves. You may then trade where you please unmolested
by us, and we will trade where we please unmolested by you; and such
articles as we can purchase of each other better than elsewhere may
be mutually done. If it were possible that you could carry on the war
for twenty years you must still come to this point at last, or worse,
and the sooner you think of it the better it will be for you.
My official situation enables me to know the repeated insults which
Britain is obliged to put up with from foreign powers, and the
wretched shifts that she is driven to, to gloss them over. Her
reduced strength and exhausted coffers in a three years' war with
America, has given a powerful superiority to France and Spain. She is
not now a match for them. But if neither councils can prevail on her
to think, nor sufferings awaken her to reason, she must e'en go on,
till the honor of England becomes a proverb of contempt, and Europe
dub her the Land of Fools.
I am, Sir, with every wish for an honorable peace,
Your friend, enemy, and countryman,
COMMON SENSE.
TO THE INHABITANTS OF AMERICA.
WITH all the pleasure with which a man exchanges bad company for
good, I take my leave of Sir William and return to you. It is now
nearly three years since the tyranny of Britain received its first
repulse by the arms of America. A period which has given birth to a
new world, and erected a monument to the folly of the old.
I cannot help being sometimes surprised at the complimentary
references which I have seen and heard made to ancient histories and
transactions. The wisdom, civil governments, and sense of honor of
the states of Greece and Rome, are frequently held up as objects of
excellence and imitation. Mankind have lived to very little purpose,
if, at this period of the world, they must go two or three thousand
years back for lessons and examples. We do great injustice to
ourselves by placing them in such a superior line. We have no just
authority for it, neither can we tell why it is that we should
suppose ourselves inferior.
Could the mist of antiquity be cleared away, and men and things be
viewed as they really were, it is more than probable that they would
admire us, rather than we them. America has surmounted a greater
variety and combination of difficulties, than, I believe, ever fell
to the share of any one people, in the same space of time, and has
replenished the world with more useful knowledge and sounder maxims
of civil government than were ever produced in any age before. Had it
not been for America, there had been no such thing as freedom left
throughout the whole universe. England has lost hers in a long chain
of right reasoning from wrong principles, and it is from this
country, now, that she must learn the resolution to redress herself,
and the wisdom how to accomplish it.
The Grecians and Romans were strongly possessed of the spirit of
liberty but not the principle, for at the time that they were
determined not to be slaves themselves, they employed their power to
enslave the rest of mankind. But this distinguished era is blotted by
no one misanthropical vice. In short, if the principle on which the
cause is founded, the universal blessings that are to arise from it,
the difficulties that accompanied it, the wisdom with which it has
been debated, the fortitude by which it has been supported, the
strength of the power which we had to oppose, and the condition in
which we undertook it, be all taken in one view, we may justly style
it the most virtuous and illustrious revolution that ever graced the
history of mankind.
A good opinion of ourselves is exceedingly necessary in private life,
but absolutely necessary in public life, and of the utmost importance
in supporting national character. I have no notion of yielding the
palm of the United States to any Grecians or Romans that were ever
born. We have equalled the bravest in times of danger, and excelled
the wisest in construction of civil governments.
From this agreeable eminence let us take a review of present affairs.
The spirit of corruption is so inseparably interwoven with British
politics, that their ministry suppose all mankind are governed by the
same motives. They have no idea of a people submitting even to
temporary inconvenience from an attachment to rights and privileges.
Their plans of business are calculated by the hour and for the hour,
and are uniform in nothing but the corruption which gives them birth.
They never had, neither have they at this time, any regular plan for
the conquest of America by arms. They know not how to go about it,
neither have they power to effect it if they did know. The thing is
not within the compass of human practicability, for America is too
extensive either to be fully conquered or passively defended. But she
may be actively defended by defeating or making prisoners of the army
that invades her. And this is the only system of defence that can be
effectual in a large country.
There is something in a war carried on by invasion which makes it
differ in circumstances from any other mode of war, because he who
conducts it cannot tell whether the ground he gains be for him, or
against him, when he first obtains it. In the winter of 1776, General
Howe marched with an air of victory through the Jerseys, the
consequence of which was his defeat; and General Burgoyne at Saratoga
experienced the same fate from the same cause. The Spaniards, about
two years ago, were defeated by the Algerines in the same manner,
that is, their first triumphs became a trap in which they were
totally routed. And whoever will attend to the circumstances and
events of a war carried on by invasion, will find, that any invader,
in order to be finally conquered must first begin to conquer.
I confess myself one of those who believe the loss of Philadelphia to
be attended with more advantages than injuries. The case stood thus:
The enemy imagined Philadelphia to be of more importance to us than
it really was; for we all know that it had long ceased to be a port:
not a cargo of goods had been brought into it for near a twelvemonth,
nor any fixed manufactories, nor even ship-building, carried on in
it; yet as the enemy believed the conquest of it to be practicable,
and to that belief added the absurd idea that the soul of all America
was centred there, and would be conquered there, it naturally follows
that their possession of it, by not answering the end proposed, must
break up the plans they had so foolishly gone upon, and either oblige
them to form a new one, for which their present strength is not
sufficient, or to give over the attempt.
We never had so small an army to fight against, nor so fair an
opportunity of final success as now. The death wound is already
given. The day is ours if we follow it up. The enemy, by his
situation, is within our reach, and by his reduced strength is within
our power. The ministers of Britain may rage as they please, but our
part is to conquer their armies. Let them wrangle and welcome, but
let, it not draw our attention from the one thing needful. Here, in
this spot is our own business to be accomplished, our felicity
secured. What we have now to do is as clear as light, and the way to
do it is as straight as a line. It needs not to be commented upon,
yet, in order to be perfectly understood I will put a case that
cannot admit of a mistake.
Had the armies under Generals Howe and Burgoyne been united, and
taken post at Germantown, and had the northern army under General
Gates been joined to that under General Washington, at Whitemarsh,
the consequence would have been a general action; and if in that
action we had killed and taken the same number of officers and men,
that is, between nine and ten thousand, with the same quantity of
artillery, arms, stores, etc., as have been taken at the northward,
and obliged General Howe with the remains of his army, that is, with
the same number he now commands, to take shelter in Philadelphia, we
should certainly have thought ourselves the greatest heroes in the
world; and should, as soon as the season permitted, have collected
together all the force of the continent and laid siege to the city,
for it requires a much greater force to besiege an enemy in a town
than to defeat him in the field. The case now is just the same as if
it had been produced by the means I have here supposed. Between nine
and ten thousand have been killed and taken, all their stores are in
our possession, and General Howe, in consequence of that victory, has
thrown himself for shelter into Philadelphia. He, or his trifling
friend Galloway, may form what pretences they please, yet no just
reason can be given for their going into winter quarters so early as
the 19th of October, but their apprehensions of a defeat if they
continued out, or their conscious inability of keeping the field with
safety. I see no advantage which can arise to America by hunting the
enemy from state to state. It is a triumph without a prize, and
wholly unworthy the attention of a people determined to conquer.
Neither can any state promise itself security while the enemy remains
in a condition to transport themselves from one part of the continent
to another. Howe, likewise, cannot conquer where we have no army to
oppose, therefore any such removals in him are mean and cowardly, and
reduces Britain to a common pilferer. If he retreats from
Philadelphia, he will be despised; if he stays, he may be shut up and
starved out, and the country, if he advances into it, may become his
Saratoga. He has his choice of evils and we of opportunities. If he
moves early, it is not only a sign but a proof that he expects no
reinforcement, and his delay will prove that he either waits for the
arrival of a plan to go upon, or force to execute it, or both; in
which case our strength will increase more than his, therefore in any
case we cannot be wrong if we do but proceed.
The particular condition of Pennsylvania deserves the attention of
all the other States. Her military strength must not be estimated by
the number of inhabitants. Here are men of all nations, characters,
professions and interests. Here are the firmest Whigs, surviving,
like sparks in the ocean, unquenched and uncooled in the midst of
discouragement and disaffection. Here are men losing their all with
cheerfulness, and collecting fire and fortitude from the flames of
their own estates. Here are others skulking in secret, many making a
market of the times, and numbers who are changing to Whig or Tory
with the circumstances of every day.
It is by a mere dint of fortitude and perseverance that the Whigs of
this State have been able to maintain so good a countenance, and do
even what they have done. We want help, and the sooner it can arrive
the more effectual it will be. The invaded State, be it which it may,
will always feel an additional burden upon its back, and be hard set
to support its civil power with sufficient authority; and this
difficulty will rise or fall, in proportion as the other states throw
in their assistance to the common cause.
The enemy will most probably make many manoeuvres at the opening of
this campaign, to amuse and draw off the attention of the several
States from the one thing needful. We may expect to hear of alarms
and pretended expeditions to this place and that place, to the
southward, the eastward, and the northward, all intended to prevent
our forming into one formidable body. The less the enemy's strength
is, the more subtleties of this kind will they make use of. Their
existence depends upon it, because the force of America, when
collected, is sufficient to swallow their present army up. It is
therefore our business to make short work of it, by bending our whole
attention to this one principal point, for the instant that the main
body under General Howe is defeated, all the inferior alarms
throughout the continent, like so many shadows, will follow his
downfall.
The only way to finish a war with the least possible bloodshed, or
perhaps without any, is to collect an army, against the power of
which the enemy shall have no chance. By not doing this, we prolong
the war, and double both the calamities and expenses of it. What a
rich and happy country would America be, were she, by a vigorous
exertion, to reduce Howe as she has reduced Burgoyne. Her currency
would rise to millions beyond its present value. Every man would be
rich, and every man would have it in his power to be happy. And why
not do these things? What is there to hinder? America is her own
mistress and can do what she pleases.
If we had not at this time a man in the field, we could,
nevertheless, raise an army in a few weeks sufficient to overwhelm
all the force which General Howe at present commands. Vigor and
determination will do anything and everything. We began the war with
this kind of spirit, why not end it with the same? Here, gentlemen,
is the enemy. Here is the army. The interest, the happiness of all
America, is centred in this half ruined spot. Come and help us. Here
are laurels, come and share them. Here are Tories, come and help us
to expel them. Here are Whigs that will make you welcome, and enemies
that dread your coming.
The worst of all policies is that of doing things by halves.
Penny-wise and pound-foolish, has been the ruin of thousands. The
present spring, if rightly improved, will free us from our troubles,
and save us the expense of millions. We have now only one army to
cope with. No opportunity can be fairer; no prospect more promising.
I shall conclude this paper with a few outlines of a plan, either for
filling up the battalions with expedition, or for raising an
additional force, for any limited time, on any sudden emergency.
That in which every man is interested, is every man's duty to
support. And any burden which falls equally on all men, and from
which every man is to receive an equal benefit, is consistent with
the most perfect ideas of liberty. I would wish to revive something
of that virtuous ambition which first called America into the field.
Then every man was eager to do his part, and perhaps the principal
reason why we have in any degree fallen therefrom, is because we did
not set a right value by it at first, but left it to blaze out of
itself, instead of regulating and preserving it by just proportions
of rest and service.
Suppose any State whose number of effective inhabitants was 80,000,
should be required to furnish 3,200 men towards the defence of the
continent on any sudden emergency.
1st, Let the whole number of effective inhabitants be divided into
hundreds; then if each of those hundreds turn out four men, the whole
number of 3,200 will be had.
2d, Let the name of each hundred men be entered in a book, and let
four dollars be collected from each man, with as much more as any of
the gentlemen, whose abilities can afford it, shall please to throw
in, which gifts likewise shall be entered against the names of the
donors.
3d, Let the sums so collected be offered as a present, over and above
the bounty of twenty dollars, to any four who may be inclined to
propose themselves as volunteers: if more than four offer, the
majority of the subscribers present shall determine which; if none
offer, then four out of the hundred shall be taken by lot, who shall
be entitled to the said sums, and shall either go, or provide others
that will, in the space of six days.
4th, As it will always happen that in the space of ground on which a
hundred men shall live, there will be always a number of persons who,
by age and infirmity, are incapable of doing personal service, and as
such persons are generally possessed of the greatest part of property
in any country, their portion of service, therefore, will be to
furnish each man with a blanket, which will make a regimental coat,
jacket, and breeches, or clothes in lieu thereof, and another for a
watch cloak, and two pair of shoes; for however choice people may be
of these things matters not in cases of this kind; those who live
always in houses can find many ways to keep themselves warm, but it
is a shame and a sin to suffer a soldier in the field to want a
blanket while there is one in the country.
Should the clothing not be wanted, the superannuated or infirm
persons possessing property, may, in lieu thereof, throw in their
money subscriptions towards increasing the bounty; for though age
will naturally exempt a person from personal service, it cannot
exempt him from his share of the charge, because the men are raised
for the defence of property and liberty jointly.
There never was a scheme against which objections might not be
raised. But this alone is not a sufficient reason for rejection. The
only line to judge truly upon is to draw out and admit all the
objections which can fairly be made, and place against them all the
contrary qualities, conveniences and advantages, then by striking a
balance you come at the true character of any scheme, principle or
position.
The most material advantages of the plan here proposed are, ease,
expedition, and cheapness; yet the men so raised get a much larger
bounty than is any where at present given; because all the expenses,
extravagance, and consequent idleness of recruiting are saved or
prevented. The country incurs no new debt nor interest thereon; the
whole matter being all settled at once and entirely done with. It is
a subscription answering all the purposes of a tax, without either
the charge or trouble of collecting. The men are ready for the field
with the greatest possible expedition, because it becomes the duty of
the inhabitants themselves, in every part of the country, to find
their proportion of men instead of leaving it to a recruiting
sergeant, who, be he ever so industrious, cannot know always where to
apply.
I do not propose this as a regular digested plan, neither will the
limits of this paper admit of any further remarks upon it. I believe
it to be a hint capable of much improvement, and as such submit it to
the public.
COMMON SENSE.
LANCASTER, March 21, 1778.
The Crisis
VI.
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE, GENERAL CLINTON, AND
WILLIAM EDEN, ESQ., BRITISH COMMISSIONERS
AT NEW YORK.
THERE is a dignity in the warm passions of a Whig, which is never to
be found in the cold malice of a Tory. In the one nature is only
heated- in the other she is poisoned. The instant the former has it
in his power to punish, he feels a disposition to forgive; but the
canine venom of the latter knows no relief but revenge. This general
distinction will, I believe, apply in all cases, and suits as well
the meridian of England as America.
As I presume your last proclamation will undergo the strictures of
other pens, I shall confine my remarks to only a few parts thereof.
All that you have said might have been comprised in half the compass.
It is tedious and unmeaning, and only a repetition of your former
follies, with here and there an offensive aggravation. Your cargo of
pardons will have no market. It is unfashionable to look at them-
even speculation is at an end. They have become a perfect drug, and
no way calculated for the climate.
In the course of your proclamation you say, "The policy as well as
the benevolence of Great Britain have thus far checked the extremes
of war, when they tended to distress a people still considered as
their fellow subjects, and to desolate a country shortly to become
again a source of mutual advantage." What you mean by "the
benevolence of Great Britain" is to me inconceivable. To put a plain
question; do you consider yourselves men or devils? For until this
point is settled, no determinate sense can be put upon the
expression. You have already equalled and in many cases excelled, the
savages of either Indies; and if you have yet a cruelty in store you
must have imported it, unmixed with every human material, from the
original warehouse of hell.
To the interposition of Providence, and her blessings on our
endeavors, and not to British benevolence are we indebted for the
short chain that limits your ravages. Remember you do not, at this
time, command a foot of land on the continent of America. Staten
Island, York Island, a small part of Long Island, and Rhode Island,
circumscribe your power; and even those you hold at the expense of
the West Indies. To avoid a defeat, or prevent a desertion of your
troops, you have taken up your quarters in holes and corners of
inaccessible security; and in order to conceal what every one can
perceive, you now endeavor to impose your weakness upon us for an act
of mercy. If you think to succeed by such shadowy devices, you are
but infants in the political world; you have the A, B, C, of
stratagem yet to learn, and are wholly ignorant of the people you
have to contend with. Like men in a state of intoxication, you forget
that the rest of the world have eyes, and that the same stupidity
which conceals you from yourselves exposes you to their satire and
contempt.
The paragraph which I have quoted, stands as an introduction to the
following: "But when that country [America] professes the unnatural
design, not only of estranging herself from us, but of mortgaging
herself and her resources to our enemies, the whole contest is
changed: and the question is how far Great Britain may, by every
means in her power, destroy or render useless, a connection contrived
for her ruin, and the aggrandizement of France. Under such
circumstances, the laws of self-preservation must direct the conduct
of Britain, and, if the British colonies are to become an accession
to France, will direct her to render that accession of as little
avail as possible to her enemy."
I consider you in this declaration, like madmen biting in the hour of
death. It contains likewise a fraudulent meanness; for, in order to
justify a barbarous conclusion, you have advanced a false position.
The treaty we have formed with France is open, noble, and generous.
It is true policy, founded on sound philosophy, and neither a
surrender or mortgage, as you would scandalously insinuate. I have
seen every article, and speak from positive knowledge. In France, we
have found an affectionate friend and faithful ally; in Britain, we
have found nothing but tyranny, cruelty, and infidelity.
But the happiness is, that the mischief you threaten, is not in your
power to execute; and if it were, the punishment would return upon
you in a ten-fold degree. The humanity of America has hitherto
restrained her from acts of retaliation, and the affection she
retains for many individuals in England, who have fed, clothed and
comforted her prisoners, has, to the present day, warded off her
resentment, and operated as a screen to the whole. But even these
considerations must cease, when national objects interfere and oppose
them. Repeated aggravations will provoke a retort, and policy justify
the measure. We mean now to take you seriously up upon your own
ground and principle, and as you do, so shall you be done by.
You ought to know, gentlemen, that England and Scotland, are far more
exposed to incendiary desolation than America, in her present state,
can possibly be. We occupy a country, with but few towns, and whose
riches consist in land and annual produce. The two last can suffer
but little, and that only within a very limited compass. In Britain
it is otherwise. Her wealth lies chiefly in cities and large towns,
the depositories of manufactures and fleets of merchantmen. There is
not a nobleman's country seat but may be laid in ashes by a single
person. Your own may probably contribute to the proof: in short,
there is no evil which cannot be returned when you come to incendiary
mischief. The ships in the Thames, may certainly be as easily set on
fire, as the temporary bridge was a few years ago; yet of that affair
no discovery was ever made; and the loss you would sustain by such an
event, executed at a proper season, is infinitely greater than any
you can inflict. The East India House and the Bank, neither are nor
can be secure from this sort of destruction, and, as Dr. Price justly
observes, a fire at the latter would bankrupt the nation. It has
never been the custom of France and England when at war, to make
those havocs on each other, because the ease with which they could
retaliate rendered it as impolitic as if each had destroyed his own.
But think not, gentlemen, that our distance secures you, or our
invention fails us. We can much easier accomplish such a point than
any nation in Europe. We talk the same language, dress in the same
habit, and appear with the same manners as yourselves. We can pass
from one part of England to another unsuspected; many of us are as
well acquainted with the country as you are, and should you
impolitically provoke us, you will most assuredly lament the effects
of it. Mischiefs of this kind require no army to execute them. The
means are obvious, and the opportunities unguardable. I hold up a
warning to our senses, if you have any left, and "to the unhappy
people likewise, whose affairs are committed to you."* I call not
with the rancor of an enemy, but the earnestness of a friend, on the
deluded people of England, lest, between your blunders and theirs,
they sink beneath the evils contrived for us.
* General [Sir H.] Clinton's letter to Congress.
"He who lives in a glass house," says a Spanish proverb, "should
never begin throwing stones." This, gentlemen, is exactly your case,
and you must be the most ignorant of mankind, or suppose us so, not
to see on which side the balance of accounts will fall. There are
many other modes of retaliation, which, for several reasons, I choose
not to mention. But be assured of this, that the instant you put your
threat into execution, a counter-blow will follow it. If you openly
profess yourselves savages, it is high time we should treat you as
such, and if nothing but distress can recover you to reason, to
punish will become an office of charity.
While your fleet lay last winter in the Delaware, I offered my
service to the Pennsylvania Navy Board then at Trenton, as one who
would make a party with them, or any four or five gentlemen, on an
expedition down the river to set fire to it, and though it was not
then accepted, nor the thing personally attempted, it is more than
probable that your own folly will provoke a much more ruinous act.
Say not when mischief is done, that you had not warning, and remember
that we do not begin it, but mean to repay it. Thus much for your
savage and impolitic threat.
In another part of your proclamation you say, "But if the honors of a
military life are become the object of the Americans, let them seek
those honors under the banners of their rightful sovereign, and in
fighting the battles of the united British Empire, against our late
mutual and natural enemies." Surely! the union of absurdity with
madness was never marked in more distinguishable lines than these.
Your rightful sovereign, as you call him, may do well enough for you,
who dare not inquire into the humble capacities of the man; but we,
who estimate persons and things by their real worth, cannot suffer
our judgments to be so imposed upon; and unless it is your wish to
see him exposed, it ought to be your endeavor to keep him out of
sight. The less you have to say about him the better. We have done
with him, and that ought to be answer enough. You have been often
told so. Strange! that the answer must be so often repeated. You go
a-begging with your king as with a brat, or with some unsaleable
commodity you were tired of; and though every body tells you no, no,
still you keep hawking him about. But there is one that will have him
in a little time, and as we have no inclination to disappoint you of
a customer, we bid nothing for him.
The impertinent folly of the paragraph that I have just quoted,
deserves no other notice than to be laughed at and thrown by, but the
principle on which it is founded is detestable. We are invited to
submit to a man who has attempted by every cruelty to destroy us, and
to join him in making war against France, who is already at war
against him for our support.
Can Bedlam, in concert with Lucifer, form a more mad and devilish
request? Were it possible a people could sink into such apostacy they
would deserve to be swept from the earth like the inhabitants of
Sodom and Gomorrah. The proposition is an universal affront to the
rank which man holds in the creation, and an indignity to him who
placed him there. It supposes him made up without a spark of honor,
and under no obligation to God or man.
What sort of men or Christians must you suppose the Americans to be,
who, after seeing their most humble petitions insultingly rejected;
the most grievous laws passed to distress them in every quarter; an
undeclared war let loose upon them, and Indians and negroes invited
to the slaughter; who, after seeing their kinsmen murdered, their
fellow citizens starved to death in prisons, and their houses and
property destroyed and burned; who, after the most serious appeals to
heaven, the most solemn abjuration by oath of all government
connected with you, and the most heart-felt pledges and protestations
of faith to each other; and who, after soliciting the friendship, and
entering into alliances with other nations, should at last break
through all these obligations, civil and divine, by complying with
your horrid and infernal proposal. Ought we ever after to be
considered as a part of the human race? Or ought we not rather to be
blotted from the society of mankind, and become a spectacle of misery
to the world? But there is something in corruption, which, like a
jaundiced eye, transfers the color of itself to the object it looks
upon, and sees every thing stained and impure; for unless you were
capable of such conduct yourselves, you would never have supposed
such a character in us. The offer fixes your infamy. It exhibits you
as a nation without faith; with whom oaths and treaties are
considered as trifles, and the breaking them as the breaking of a
bubble. Regard to decency, or to rank, might have taught you better;
or pride inspired you, though virtue could not. There is not left a
step in the degradation of character to which you can now descend;
you have put your foot on the ground floor, and the key of the
dungeon is turned upon you.
That the invitation may want nothing of being a complete monster, you
have thought proper to finish it with an assertion which has no
foundation, either in fact or philosophy; and as Mr. Ferguson, your
secretary, is a man of letters, and has made civil society his study,
and published a treatise on that subject, I address this part to him.
In the close of the paragraph which I last quoted, France is styled
the "natural enemy" of England, and by way of lugging us into some
strange idea, she is styled "the late mutual and natural enemy" of
both countries. I deny that she ever was the natural enemy of either;
and that there does not exist in nature such a principle. The
expression is an unmeaning barbarism, and wholly unphilosophical,
when applied to beings of the same species, let their station in the
creation be what it may. We have a perfect idea of a natural enemy
when we think of the devil, because the enmity is perpetual,
unalterable and unabateable. It admits, neither of peace, truce, or
treaty; consequently the warfare is eternal, and therefore it is
natural. But man with man cannot arrange in the same opposition.
Their quarrels are accidental and equivocally created. They become
friends or enemies as the change of temper, or the cast of interest
inclines them. The Creator of man did not constitute them the natural
enemy of each other. He has not made any one order of beings so. Even
wolves may quarrel, still they herd together. If any two nations are
so, then must all nations be so, otherwise it is not nature but
custom, and the offence frequently originates with the accuser.
England is as truly the natural enemy of France, as France is of
England, and perhaps more so. Separated from the rest of Europe, she
has contracted an unsocial habit of manners, and imagines in others
the jealousy she creates in herself. Never long satisfied with peace,
she supposes the discontent universal, and buoyed up with her own
importance, conceives herself the only object pointed at. The
expression has been often used, and always with a fraudulent design;
for when the idea of a natural enemy is conceived, it prevents all
other inquiries, and the real cause of the quarrel is hidden in the
universality of the conceit. Men start at the notion of a natural
enemy, and ask no other question. The cry obtains credit like the
alarm of a mad dog, and is one of those kind of tricks, which, by
operating on the common passions, secures their interest through
their folly.
But we, sir, are not to be thus imposed upon. We live in a large
world, and have extended our ideas beyond the limits and prejudices
of an island. We hold out the right hand of friendship to all the
universe, and we conceive that there is a sociality in the manners of
France, which is much better disposed to peace and negotiation than
that of England, and until the latter becomes more civilized, she
cannot expect to live long at peace with any power. Her common
language is vulgar and offensive, and children suck in with their
milk the rudiments of insult- "The arm of Britain! The mighty arm of
Britain! Britain that shakes the earth to its center and its poles!
The scourge of France! The terror of the world! That governs with a
nod, and pours down vengeance like a God." This language neither
makes a nation great or little; but it shows a savageness of manners,
and has a tendency to keep national animosity alive. The
entertainments of the stage are calculated to the same end, and
almost every public exhibition is tinctured with insult. Yet England
is always in dread of France,- terrified at the apprehension of an
invasion, suspicious of being outwitted in a treaty, and privately
cringing though she is publicly offending. Let her, therefore, reform
her manners and do justice, and she will find the idea of a natural
enemy to be only a phantom of her own imagination.
Little did I think, at this period of the war, to see a proclamation
which could promise you no one useful purpose whatever, and tend only
to expose you. One would think that you were just awakened from a
four years' dream, and knew nothing of what had passed in the
interval. Is this a time to be offering pardons, or renewing the long
forgotten subjects of charters and taxation? Is it worth your while,
after every force has failed you, to retreat under the shelter of
argument and persuasion? Or can you think that we, with nearly half
your army prisoners, and in alliance with France, are to be begged or
threatened into submission by a piece of paper? But as commissioners
at a hundred pounds sterling a week each, you conceive yourselves
bound to do something, and the genius of ill-fortune told you, that
you must write.
For my own part, I have not put pen to paper these several months.
Convinced of our superiority by the issue of every campaign, I was
inclined to hope, that that which all the rest of the world now see,
would become visible to you, and therefore felt unwilling to ruffle
your temper by fretting you with repetitions and discoveries. There
have been intervals of hesitation in your conduct, from which it
seemed a pity to disturb you, and a charity to leave you to
yourselves. You have often stopped, as if you intended to think, but
your thoughts have ever been too early or too late.
There was a time when Britain disdained to answer, or even hear a
petition from America. That time is past and she in her turn is
petitioning our acceptance. We now stand on higher ground, and offer
her peace; and the time will come when she, perhaps in vain, will ask
it from us. The latter case is as probable as the former ever was.
She cannot refuse to acknowledge our independence with greater
obstinacy than she before refused to repeal her laws; and if America
alone could bring her to the one, united with France she will reduce
her to the other. There is something in obstinacy which differs from
every other passion; whenever it fails it never recovers, but either
breaks like iron, or crumbles sulkily away like a fractured arch.
Most other passions have their periods of fatigue and rest; their
suffering and their cure; but obstinacy has no resource, and the
first wound is mortal. You have already begun to give it up, and you
will, from the natural construction of the vice, find yourselves both
obliged and inclined to do so.
If you look back you see nothing but loss and disgrace. If you look
forward the same scene continues, and the close is an impenetrable
gloom. You may plan and execute little mischiefs, but are they worth
the expense they cost you, or will such partial evils have any effect
on the general cause? Your expedition to Egg Harbor, will be felt at
a distance like an attack upon a hen-roost, and expose you in Europe,
with a sort of childish frenzy. Is it worth while to keep an army to
protect you in writing proclamations, or to get once a year into
winter quarters? Possessing yourselves of towns is not conquest, but
convenience, and in which you will one day or other be trepanned.
Your retreat from Philadelphia, was only a timely escape, and your
next expedition may be less fortunate.
It would puzzle all the politicians in the universe to conceive what
you stay for, or why you should have stayed so long. You are
prosecuting a war in which you confess you have neither object nor
hope, and that conquest, could it be effected, would not repay the
charges: in the mean while the rest of your affairs are running to
ruin, and a European war kindling against you. In such a situation,
there is neither doubt nor difficulty; the first rudiments of reason
will determine the choice, for if peace can be procured with more
advantages than even a conquest can be obtained, he must be an idiot
indeed that hesitates.
But you are probably buoyed up by a set of wretched mortals, who,
having deceived themselves, are cringing, with the duplicity of a
spaniel, for a little temporary bread. Those men will tell you just
what you please. It is their interest to amuse, in order to lengthen
out their protection. They study to keep you amongst them for that
very purpose; and in proportion as you disregard their advice, and
grow callous to their complaints, they will stretch into
improbability, and season their flattery the higher. Characters like
these are to be found in every country, and every country will
despise them.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 20, 1778.
THE CRISIS
VII.
TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND.
THERE are stages in the business of serious life in which to amuse is
cruel, but to deceive is to destroy; and it is of little consequence,
in the conclusion, whether men deceive themselves, or submit, by a
kind of mutual consent, to the impositions of each other. That
England has long been under the influence of delusion or mistake,
needs no other proof than the unexpected and wretched situation that
she is now involved in: and so powerful has been the influence, that
no provision was ever made or thought of against the misfortune,
because the possibility of its happening was never conceived.
The general and successful resistance of America, the conquest of
Burgoyne, and a war in France, were treated in parliament as the
dreams of a discontented opposition, or a distempered imagination.
They were beheld as objects unworthy of a serious thought, and the
bare intimation of them afforded the ministry a triumph of laughter.
Short triumph indeed! For everything which has been predicted has
happened, and all that was promised has failed. A long series of
politics so remarkably distinguished by a succession of misfortunes,
without one alleviating turn, must certainly have something in it
systematically wrong. It is sufficient to awaken the most credulous
into suspicion, and the most obstinate into thought. Either the means
in your power are insufficient, or the measures ill planned; either
the execution has been bad, or the thing attempted impracticable; or,
to speak more emphatically, either you are not able or heaven is not
willing. For, why is it that you have not conquered us? Who, or what
has prevented you? You have had every opportunity that you could
desire, and succeeded to your utmost wish in every preparatory means.
Your fleets and armies have arrived in America without an accident.
No uncommon fortune has intervened. No foreign nation has interfered
until the time which you had allotted for victory was passed. The
opposition, either in or out of parliament, neither disconcerted your
measures, retarded or diminished your force. They only foretold your
fate. Every ministerial scheme was carried with as high a hand as if
the whole nation had been unanimous. Every thing wanted was asked
for, and every thing asked for was granted.
A greater force was not within the compass of your abilities to send,
and the time you sent it was of all others the most favorable. You
were then at rest with the whole world beside. You had the range of
every court in Europe uncontradicted by us. You amused us with a tale
of commissioners of peace, and under that disguise collected a
numerous army and came almost unexpectedly upon us. The force was
much greater than we looked for; and that which we had to oppose it
with, was unequal in numbers, badly armed, and poorly disciplined;
beside which, it was embodied only for a short time, and expired
within a few months after your arrival. We had governments to form;
measures to concert; an army to train, and every necessary article to
import or to create. Our non-importation scheme had exhausted our
stores, and your command by sea intercepted our supplies. We were a
people unknown, and unconnected with the political world, and
strangers to the disposition of foreign powers. Could you possibly
wish for a more favorable conjunction of circumstances? Yet all these
have happened and passed away, and, as it were, left you with a
laugh. There are likewise, events of such an original nativity as can
never happen again, unless a new world should arise from the ocean.
If any thing can be a lesson to presumption, surely the circumstances
of this war will have their effect. Had Britain been defeated by any
European power, her pride would have drawn consolation from the
importance of her conquerors; but in the present case, she is
excelled by those that she affected to despise, and her own opinions
retorting upon herself, become an aggravation of her disgrace.
Misfortune and experience are lost upon mankind, when they produce
neither reflection nor reformation. Evils, like poisons, have their
uses, and there are diseases which no other remedy can reach. It has
been the crime and folly of England to suppose herself invincible,
and that, without acknowledging or perceiving that a full third of
her strength was drawn from the country she is now at war with. The
arm of Britain has been spoken of as the arm of the Almighty, and she
has lived of late as if she thought the whole world created for her
diversion. Her politics, instead of civilizing, has tended to
brutalize mankind, and under the vain, unmeaning title of "Defender
of the Faith," she has made war like an Indian against the religion
of humanity. Her cruelties in the East Indies will never be
forgotten, and it is somewhat remarkable that the produce of that
ruined country, transported to America, should there kindle up a war
to punish the destroyer. The chain is continued, though with a
mysterious kind of uniformity both in the crime and the punishment.
The latter runs parallel with the former, and time and fate will give
it a perfect illustration.
When information is withheld, ignorance becomes a reasonable excuse;
and one would charitably hope that the people of England do not
encourage cruelty from choice but from mistake. Their recluse
situation, surrounded by the sea, preserves them from the calamities
of war, and keeps them in the dark as to the conduct of their own
armies. They see not, therefore they feel not. They tell the tale
that is told them and believe it, and accustomed to no other news
than their own, they receive it, stripped of its horrors and prepared
for the palate of the nation, through the channel of the London
Gazette. They are made to believe that their generals and armies
differ from those of other nations, and have nothing of rudeness or
barbarity in them. They suppose them what they wish them to be. They
feel a disgrace in thinking otherwise, and naturally encourage the
belief from a partiality to themselves. There was a time when I felt
the same prejudices, and reasoned from the same errors; but
experience, sad and painful experience, has taught me better. What
the conduct of former armies was, I know not, but what the conduct of
the present is, I well know. It is low, cruel, indolent and
profligate; and had the people of America no other cause for
separation than what the army has occasioned, that alone is cause
sufficient.
The field of politics in England is far more extensive than that of
news. Men have a right to reason for themselves, and though they
cannot contradict the intelligence in the London Gazette, they may
frame upon it what sentiments they please. But the misfortune is,
that a general ignorance has prevailed over the whole nation
respecting America. The ministry and the minority have both been
wrong. The former was always so, the latter only lately so. Politics,
to be executively right, must have a unity of means and time, and a
defect in either overthrows the whole. The ministry rejected the
plans of the minority while they were practicable, and joined in them
when they became impracticable. From wrong measures they got into
wrong time, and have now completed the circle of absurdity by closing
it upon themselves.
I happened to come to America a few months before the breaking out of
hostilities. I found the disposition of the people such, that they
might have been led by a thread and governed by a reed. Their
suspicion was quick and penetrating, but their attachment to Britain
was obstinate, and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak
against it. They disliked the ministry, but they esteemed the nation.
Their idea of grievance operated without resentment, and their single
object was reconciliation. Bad as I believed the ministry to be, I
never conceived them capable of a measure so rash and wicked as the
commencing of hostilities; much less did I imagine the nation would
encourage it. I viewed the dispute as a kind of law-suit, in which I
supposed the parties would find a way either to decide or settle it.
I had no thoughts of independence or of arms. The world could not
then have persuaded me that I should be either a soldier or an
author. If I had any talents for either, they were buried in me, and
might ever have continued so, had not the necessity of the times
dragged and driven them into action. I had formed my plan of life,
and conceiving myself happy, wished every body else so. But when the
country, into which I had just set my foot, was set on fire about my
ears, it was time to stir. It was time for every man to stir. Those
who had been long settled had something to defend; those who had just
come had something to pursue; and the call and the concern was equal
and universal. For in a country where all men were once adventurers,
the difference of a few years in their arrival could make none in
their right.
The breaking out of hostilities opened a new suspicion in the
politics of America, which, though at that time very rare, has since
been proved to be very right. What I allude to is, "a secret and
fixed determination in the British Cabinet to annex America to the
crown of England as a conquered country." If this be taken as the
object, then the whole line of conduct pursued by the ministry,
though rash in its origin and ruinous in its consequences, is
nevertheless uniform and consistent in its parts. It applies to every
case and resolves every difficulty. But if taxation, or any thing
else, be taken in its room, there is no proportion between the object
and the charge. Nothing but the whole soil and property of the
country can be placed as a possible equivalent against the millions
which the ministry expended. No taxes raised in America could
possibly repay it. A revenue of two millions sterling a year would
not discharge the sum and interest accumulated thereon, in twenty
years.
Reconciliation never appears to have been the wish or the object of
the administration; they looked on conquest as certain and
infallible, and, under that persuasion, sought to drive the Americans
into what they might style a general rebellion, and then, crushing
them with arms in their hands, reap the rich harvest of a general
confiscation, and silence them for ever. The dependents at court were
too numerous to be provided for in England. The market for plunder in
the East Indies was over; and the profligacy of government required
that a new mine should be opened, and that mine could be no other
than America, conquered and forfeited. They had no where else to go.
Every other channel was drained; and extravagance, with the thirst of
a drunkard, was gaping for supplies.
If the ministry deny this to have been their plan, it becomes them to
explain what was their plan. For either they have abused us in
coveting property they never labored for, or they have abused you in
expending an amazing sum upon an incompetent object. Taxation, as I
mentioned before, could never be worth the charge of obtaining it by
arms; and any kind of formal obedience which America could have made,
would have weighed with the lightness of a laugh against such a load
of expense. It is therefore most probable that the ministry will at
last justify their policy by their dishonesty, and openly declare,
that their original design was conquest: and, in this case, it well
becomes the people of England to consider how far the nation would
have been benefited by the success.
In a general view, there are few conquests that repay the charge of
making them, and mankind are pretty well convinced that it can never
be worth their while to go to war for profit's sake. If they are made
war upon, their country invaded, or their existence at stake, it is
their duty to defend and preserve themselves, but in every other
light, and from every other cause, is war inglorious and detestable.
But to return to the case in question-
When conquests are made of foreign countries, it is supposed that the
commerce and dominion of the country which made them are extended.
But this could neither be the object nor the consequence of the
present war. You enjoyed the whole commerce before. It could receive
no possible addition by a conquest, but on the contrary, must
diminish as the inhabitants were reduced in numbers and wealth. You
had the same dominion over the country which you used to have, and
had no complaint to make against her for breach of any part of the
contract between you or her, or contending against any established
custom, commercial, political or territorial. The country and
commerce were both your own when you began to conquer, in the same
manner and form as they had been your own a hundred years before.
Nations have sometimes been induced to make conquests for the sake of
reducing the power of their enemies, or bringing it to a balance with
their own. But this could be no part of your plan. No foreign
authority was claimed here, neither was any such authority suspected
by you, or acknowledged or imagined by us. What then, in the name of
heaven, could you go to war for? Or what chance could you possibly
have in the event, but either to hold the same country which you held
before, and that in a much worse condition, or to lose, with an
amazing expense, what you might have retained without a farthing of
charges?
War never can be the interest of a trading nation, any more than
quarrelling can be profitable to a man in business. But to make war
with those who trade with us, is like setting a bull-dog upon a
customer at the shop-door. The least degree of common sense shows the
madness of the latter, and it will apply with the same force of
conviction to the former. Piratical nations, having neither commerce
or commodities of their own to lose, may make war upon all the world,
and lucratively find their account in it; but it is quite otherwise
with Britain: for, besides the stoppage of trade in time of war, she
exposes more of her own property to be lost, than she has the chance
of taking from others. Some ministerial gentlemen in parliament have
mentioned the greatness of her trade as an apology for the greatness
of her loss. This is miserable politics indeed! Because it ought to
have been given as a reason for her not engaging in a war at first.
The coast of America commands the West India trade almost as
effectually as the coast of Africa does that of the Straits; and
England can no more carry on the former without the consent of
America, than she can the latter without a Mediterranean pass.
In whatever light the war with America is considered upon commercial
principles, it is evidently the interest of the people of England not
to support it; and why it has been supported so long, against the
clearest demonstrations of truth and national advantage, is, to me,
and must be to all the reasonable world, a matter of astonishment.
Perhaps it may be said that I live in America, and write this from
interest. To this I reply, that my principle is universal. My
attachment is to all the world, and not to any particular part, and
if what I advance is right, no matter where or who it comes from. We
have given the proclamation of your commissioners a currency in our
newspapers, and I have no doubt you will give this a place in yours.
To oblige and be obliged is fair.
Before I dismiss this part of my address, I shall mention one more
circumstance in which I think the people of England have been equally
mistaken: and then proceed to other matters.
There is such an idea existing in the world, as that of national
honor, and this, falsely understood, is oftentimes the cause of war.
In a Christian and philosophical sense, mankind seem to have stood
still at individual civilization, and to retain as nations all the
original rudeness of nature. Peace by treaty is only a cessation of
violence for a reformation of sentiment. It is a substitute for a
principle that is wanting and ever will be wanting till the idea of
national honor be rightly understood. As individuals we profess
ourselves Christians, but as nations we are heathens, Romans, and
what not. I remember the late Admiral Saunders declaring in the House
of Commons, and that in the time of peace, "That the city of Madrid
laid in ashes was not a sufficient atonement for the Spaniards taking
off the rudder of an English sloop of war." I do not ask whether this
is Christianity or morality, I ask whether it is decency? whether it
is proper language for a nation to use? In private life we call it by
the plain name of bullying, and the elevation of rank cannot alter
its character. It is, I think, exceedingly easy to define what ought
to be understood by national honor; for that which is the best
character for an individual is the best character for a nation; and
wherever the latter exceeds or falls beneath the former, there is a
departure from the line of true greatness.
I have thrown out this observation with a design of applying it to
Great Britain. Her ideas of national honor seem devoid of that
benevolence of heart, that universal expansion of philanthropy, and
that triumph over the rage of vulgar prejudice, without which man is
inferior to himself, and a companion of common animals. To know who
she shall regard or dislike, she asks what country they are of, what
religion they profess, and what property they enjoy. Her idea of
national honor seems to consist in national insult, and that to be a
great people, is to be neither a Christian, a philosopher, or a
gentleman, but to threaten with the rudeness of a bear, and to devour
with the ferocity of a lion. This perhaps may sound harsh and
uncourtly, but it is too true, and the more is the pity.
I mention this only as her general character. But towards America she
has observed no character at all; and destroyed by her conduct what
she assumed in her title. She set out with the title of parent, or
mother country. The association of ideas which naturally accompany
this expression, are filled with everything that is fond, tender and
forbearing. They have an energy peculiar to themselves, and,
overlooking the accidental attachment of common affections, apply
with infinite softness to the first feelings of the heart. It is a
political term which every mother can feel the force of, and every
child can judge of. It needs no painting of mine to set it off, for
nature only can do it justice.
But has any part of your conduct to America corresponded with the
title you set up? If in your general national character you are
unpolished and severe, in this you are inconsistent and unnatural,
and you must have exceeding false notions of national honor to
suppose that the world can admire a want of humanity or that national
honor depends on the violence of resentment, the inflexibility of
temper, or the vengeance of execution.
I would willingly convince you, and that with as much temper as the
times will suffer me to do, that as you opposed your own interest by
quarrelling with us, so likewise your national honor, rightly
conceived and understood, was no ways called upon to enter into a war
with America; had you studied true greatness of heart, the first and
fairest ornament of mankind, you would have acted directly contrary
to all that you have done, and the world would have ascribed it to a
generous cause. Besides which, you had (though with the assistance of
this country) secured a powerful name by the last war. You were known
and dreaded abroad; and it would have been wise in you to have
suffered the world to have slept undisturbed under that idea. It was
to you a force existing without expense. It produced to you all the
advantages of real power; and you were stronger through the
universality of that charm, than any future fleets and armies may
probably make you. Your greatness was so secured and interwoven with
your silence that you ought never to have awakened mankind, and had
nothing to do but to be quiet. Had you been true politicians you
would have seen all this, and continued to draw from the magic of a
name, the force and authority of a nation.
Unwise as you were in breaking the charm, you were still more unwise
in the manner of doing it. Samson only told the secret, but you have
performed the operation; you have shaven your own head, and wantonly
thrown away the locks. America was the hair from which the charm was
drawn that infatuated the world. You ought to have quarrelled with no
power; but with her upon no account. You had nothing to fear from any
condescension you might make. You might have humored her, even if
there had been no justice in her claims, without any risk to your
reputation; for Europe, fascinated by your fame, would have ascribed
it to your benevolence, and America, intoxicated by the grant, would
have slumbered in her fetters.
But this method of studying the progress of the passions, in order to
ascertain the probable conduct of mankind, is a philosophy in
politics which those who preside at St. James's have no conception
of. They know no other influence than corruption and reckon all their
probabilities from precedent. A new case is to them a new world, and
while they are seeking for a parallel they get lost. The talents of
Lord Mansfield can be estimated at best no higher than those of a
sophist. He understands the subtleties but not the elegance of
nature; and by continually viewing mankind through the cold medium of
the law, never thinks of penetrating into the warmer region of the
mind. As for Lord North, it is his happiness to have in him more
philosophy than sentiment, for he bears flogging like a top, and
sleeps the better for it. His punishment becomes his support, for
while he suffers the lash for his sins, he keeps himself up by
twirling about. In politics, he is a good arithmetician, and in every
thing else nothing at all.
There is one circumstance which comes so much within Lord North's
province as a financier, that I am surprised it should escape him,
which is, the different abilities of the two countries in supporting
the expense; for, strange as it may seem, England is not a match for
America in this particular. By a curious kind of revolution in
accounts, the people of England seem to mistake their poverty for
their riches; that is, they reckon their national debt as a part of
their national wealth. They make the same kind of error which a man
would do, who after mortgaging his estate, should add the money
borrowed, to the full value of the estate, in order to count up his
worth, and in this case he would conceive that he got rich by running
into debt. Just thus it is with England. The government owed at the
beginning of this war one hundred and thirty-five millions sterling,
and though the individuals to whom it was due had a right to reckon
their shares as so much private property, yet to the nation
collectively it was so much poverty. There are as effectual limits to
public debts as to private ones, for when once the money borrowed is
so great as to require the whole yearly revenue to discharge the
interest thereon, there is an end to further borrowing; in the same
manner as when the interest of a man's debts amounts to the yearly
income of his estate, there is an end to his credit. This is nearly
the case with England, the interest of her present debt being at
least equal to one half of her yearly revenue, so that out of ten
millions annually collected by taxes, she has but five that she can
call her own.
The very reverse of this was the case with America; she began the war
without any debt upon her, and in order to carry it on, she neither
raised money by taxes, nor borrowed it upon interest, but created it;
and her situation at this time continues so much the reverse of yours
that taxing would make her rich, whereas it would make you poor. When
we shall have sunk the sum which we have created, we shall then be
out of debt, be just as rich as when we began, and all the while we
are doing it shall feel no difference, because the value will rise as
the quantity decreases.
There was not a country in the world so capable of bearing the
expense of a war as America; not only because she was not in debt
when she began, but because the country is young and capable of
infinite improvement, and has an almost boundless tract of new lands
in store; whereas England has got to her extent of age and growth,
and has not unoccupied land or property in reserve. The one is like a
young heir coming to a large improvable estate; the other like an old
man whose chances are over, and his estate mortgaged for half its
worth.
In the second number of the Crisis, which I find has been republished
in England, I endeavored to set forth the impracticability of
conquering America. I stated every case, that I conceived could
possibly happen, and ventured to predict its consequences. As my
conclusions were drawn not artfully, but naturally, they have all
proved to be true. I was upon the spot; knew the politics of America,
her strength and resources, and by a train of services, the best in
my power to render, was honored with the friendship of the congress,
the army and the people. I considered the cause a just one. I know
and feel it a just one, and under that confidence never made my own
profit or loss an object. My endeavor was to have the matter well
understood on both sides, and I conceived myself tendering a general
service, by setting forth to the one the impossibility of being
conquered, and to the other the impossibility of conquering. Most of
the arguments made use of by the ministry for supporting the war, are
the very arguments that ought to have been used against supporting
it; and the plans, by which they thought to conquer, are the very
plans in which they were sure to be defeated. They have taken every
thing up at the wrong end. Their ignorance is astonishing, and were
you in my situation you would see it. They may, perhaps, have your
confidence, but I am persuaded that they would make very indifferent
members of Congress. I know what England is, and what America is, and
from the compound of knowledge, am better enabled to judge of the
issue than what the king or any of his ministers can be.
In this number I have endeavored to show the ill policy and
disadvantages of the war. I believe many of my remarks are new. Those
which are not so, I have studied to improve and place in a manner
that may be clear and striking. Your failure is, I am persuaded, as
certain as fate. America is above your reach. She is at least your
equal in the world, and her independence neither rests upon your
consent, nor can it be prevented by your arms. In short, you spend
your substance in vain, and impoverish yourselves without a hope.
But suppose you had conquered America, what advantages, collectively
or individually, as merchants, manufacturers, or conquerors, could
you have looked for? This is an object you seemed never to have
attended to. Listening for the sound of victory, and led away by the
frenzy of arms, you neglected to reckon either the cost or the
consequences. You must all pay towards the expense; the poorest among
you must bear his share, and it is both your right and your duty to
weigh seriously the matter. Had America been conquered, she might
have been parcelled out in grants to the favorites at court, but no
share of it would have fallen to you. Your taxes would not have been
lessened, because she would have been in no condition to have paid
any towards your relief. We are rich by contrivance of our own, which
would have ceased as soon as you became masters. Our paper money will
be of no use in England, and silver and gold we have none. In the
last war you made many conquests, but were any of your taxes lessened
thereby? On the contrary, were you not taxed to pay for the charge of
making them, and has not the same been the case in every war?
To the Parliament I wish to address myself in a more particular
manner. They appear to have supposed themselves partners in the
chase, and to have hunted with the lion from an expectation of a
right in the booty; but in this it is most probable they would, as
legislators, have been disappointed. The case is quite a new one, and
many unforeseen difficulties would have arisen thereon. The
Parliament claimed a legislative right over America, and the war
originated from that pretence. But the army is supposed to belong to
the crown, and if America had been conquered through their means, the
claim of the legislature would have been suffocated in the conquest.
Ceded, or conquered, countries are supposed to be out of the
authority of Parliament. Taxation is exercised over them by
prerogative and not by law. It was attempted to be done in the
Grenadas a few years ago, and the only reason why it was not done was
because the crown had made a prior relinquishment of its claim.
Therefore, Parliament have been all this while supporting measures
for the establishment of their authority, in the issue of which, they
would have been triumphed over by the prerogative. This might have
opened a new and interesting opposition between the Parliament and
the crown. The crown would have said that it conquered for itself,
and that to conquer for Parliament was an unknown case. The
Parliament might have replied, that America not being a foreign
country, but a country in rebellion, could not be said to be
conquered, but reduced; and thus continued their claim by disowning
the term. The crown might have rejoined, that however America might
be considered at first, she became foreign at last by a declaration
of independence, and a treaty with France; and that her case being,
by that treaty, put within the law of nations, was out of the law of
Parliament, who might have maintained, that as their claim over
America had never been surrendered, so neither could it be taken
away. The crown might have insisted, that though the claim of
Parliament could not be taken away, yet, being an inferior, it might
be superseded; and that, whether the claim was withdrawn from the
object, or the object taken from the claim, the same separation
ensued; and that America being subdued after a treaty with France,
was to all intents and purposes a regal conquest, and of course the
sole property of the king. The Parliament, as the legal delegates of
the people, might have contended against the term "inferior," and
rested the case upon the antiquity of power, and this would have
brought on a set of very interesting and rational questions.
1st, What is the original fountain of power and honor in any country?
2d, Whether the prerogative does not belong to the people?
3d, Whether there is any such thing as the English constitution?
4th, Of what use is the crown to the people?
5th, Whether he who invented a crown was not an enemy to mankind?
6th, Whether it is not a shame for a man to spend a million a year
and do no good for it, and whether the money might not be better
applied? 7th, Whether such a man is not better dead than alive?
8th, Whether a Congress, constituted like that of America, is not the
most happy and consistent form of government in the world?- With a
number of others of the same import.
In short, the contention about the dividend might have distracted the
nation; for nothing is more common than to agree in the conquest and
quarrel for the prize; therefore it is, perhaps, a happy
circumstance, that our successes have prevented the dispute.
If the Parliament had been thrown out in their claim, which it is
most probable they would, the nation likewise would have been thrown
out in their expectation; for as the taxes would have been laid on by
the crown without the Parliament, the revenue arising therefrom, if
any could have arisen, would not have gone into the exchequer, but
into the privy purse, and so far from lessening the taxes, would not
even have been added to them, but served only as pocket money to the
crown. The more I reflect on this matter, the more I am satisfied at
the blindness and ill policy of my countrymen, whose wisdom seems to
operate without discernment, and their strength without an object.
To the great bulwark of the nation, I mean the mercantile and
manufacturing part thereof, I likewise present my address. It is your
interest to see America an independent, and not a conquered country.
If conquered, she is ruined; and if ruined, poor; consequently the
trade will be a trifle, and her credit doubtful. If independent, she
flourishes, and from her flourishing must your profits arise. It
matters nothing to you who governs America, if your manufactures find
a consumption there. Some articles will consequently be obtained from
other places, and it is right that they should; but the demand for
others will increase, by the great influx of inhabitants which a
state of independence and peace will occasion, and in the final event
you may be enriched. The commerce of America is perfectly free, and
ever will be so. She will consign away no part of it to any nation.
She has not to her friends, and certainly will not to her enemies;
though it is probable that your narrow-minded politicians, thinking
to please you thereby, may some time or other unnecessarily make such
a proposal. Trade flourishes best when it is free, and it is weak
policy to attempt to fetter it. Her treaty with France is on the most
liberal and generous principles, and the French, in their conduct
towards her, have proved themselves to be philosophers, politicians,
and gentlemen.
To the ministry I likewise address myself. You, gentlemen, have
studied the ruin of your country, from which it is not within your
abilities to rescue her. Your attempts to recover her are as
ridiculous as your plans which involved her are detestable. The
commissioners, being about to depart, will probably bring you this,
and with it my sixth number, addressed to them; and in so doing they
carry back more Common Sense than they brought, and you likewise will
have more than when you sent them.
Having thus addressed you severally, I conclude by addressing you
collectively. It is a long lane that has no turning. A period of
sixteen years of misconduct and misfortune, is certainly long enough
for any one nation to suffer under; and upon a supposition that war
is not declared between France and you, I beg to place a line of
conduct before you that will easily lead you out of all your
troubles. It has been hinted before, and cannot be too much attended
to.
Suppose America had remained unknown to Europe till the present year,
and that Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander, in another voyage round the
world, had made the first discovery of her, in the same condition
that she is now in, of arts, arms, numbers, and civilization. What, I
ask, in that case, would have been your conduct towards her? For that
will point out what it ought to be now. The problems and their
solutions are equal, and the right line of the one is the parallel of
the other. The question takes in every circumstance that can possibly
arise. It reduces politics to a simple thought, and is moreover a
mode of investigation, in which, while you are studying your interest
the simplicity of the case will cheat you into good temper. You have
nothing to do but to suppose that you have found America, and she
appears found to your hand, and while in the joy of your heart you
stand still to admire her, the path of politics rises straight before
you.
Were I disposed to paint a contrast, I could easily set off what you
have done in the present case, against what you would have done in
that case, and by justly opposing them, conclude a picture that would
make you blush. But, as, when any of the prouder passions are hurt,
it is much better philosophy to let a man slip into a good temper
than to attack him in a bad one, for that reason, therefore, I only
state the case, and leave you to reflect upon it.
To go a little back into politics, it will be found that the true
interest of Britain lay in proposing and promoting the independence
of America immediately after the last peace; for the expense which
Britain had then incurred by defending America as her own dominions,
ought to have shown her the policy and necessity of changing the
style of the country, as the best probable method of preventing
future wars and expense, and the only method by which she could hold
the commerce without the charge of sovereignty. Besides which, the
title which she assumed, of parent country, led to, and pointed out
the propriety, wisdom and advantage of a separation; for, as in
private life, children grow into men, and by setting up for
themselves, extend and secure the interest of the whole family, so in
the settlement of colonies large enough to admit of maturity, the
same policy should be pursued, and the same consequences would
follow. Nothing hurts the affections both of parents and children so
much, as living too closely connected, and keeping up the distinction
too long. Domineering will not do over those, who, by a progress in
life, have become equal in rank to their parents, that is, when they
have families of their own; and though they may conceive themselves
the subjects of their advice, will not suppose them the objects of
their government. I do not, by drawing this parallel, mean to admit
the title of parent country, because, if it is due any where, it is
due to Europe collectively, and the first settlers from England were
driven here by persecution. I mean only to introduce the term for the
sake of policy and to show from your title the line of your interest.
When you saw the state of strength and opulence, and that by her own
industry, which America arrived at, you ought to have advised her to
set up for herself, and proposed an alliance of interest with her,
and in so doing you would have drawn, and that at her own expense,
more real advantage, and more military supplies and assistance, both
of ships and men, than from any weak and wrangling government that
you could exercise over her. In short, had you studied only the
domestic politics of a family, you would have learned how to govern
the state; but, instead of this easy and natural line, you flew out
into every thing which was wild and outrageous, till, by following
the passion and stupidity of the pilot, you wrecked the vessel within
sight of the shore.
Having shown what you ought to have done, I now proceed to show why
it was not done. The caterpillar circle of the court had an interest
to pursue, distinct from, and opposed to yours; for though by the
independence of America and an alliance therewith, the trade would
have continued, if not increased, as in many articles neither country
can go to a better market, and though by defending and protecting
herself, she would have been no expense to you, and consequently your
national charges would have decreased, and your taxes might have been
proportionably lessened thereby; yet the striking off so many places
from the court calendar was put in opposition to the interest of the
nation. The loss of thirteen government ships, with their appendages,
here and in England, is a shocking sound in the ear of a hungry
courtier. Your present king and ministry will be the ruin of you; and
you had better risk a revolution and call a Congress, than be thus
led on from madness to despair, and from despair to ruin. America has
set you the example, and you may follow it and be free.
I now come to the last part, a war with France. This is what no man
in his senses will advise you to, and all good men would wish to
prevent. Whether France will declare war against you, is not for me
in this place to mention, or to hint, even if I knew it; but it must
be madness in you to do it first. The matter is come now to a full
crisis, and peace is easy if willingly set about. Whatever you may
think, France has behaved handsomely to you. She would have been
unjust to herself to have acted otherwise than she did; and having
accepted our offer of alliance she gave you genteel notice of it.
There was nothing in her conduct reserved or indelicate, and while
she announced her determination to support her treaty, she left you
to give the first offence. America, on her part, has exhibited a
character of firmness to the world. Unprepared and unarmed, without
form or government, she, singly opposed a nation that domineered over
half the globe. The greatness of the deed demands respect; and though
you may feel resentment, you are compelled both to wonder and admire.
Here I rest my arguments and finish my address. Such as it is, it is
a gift, and you are welcome. It was always my design to dedicate a
Crisis to you, when the time should come that would properly make it
a Crisis; and when, likewise, I should catch myself in a temper to
write it, and suppose you in a condition to read it. That time has
now arrived, and with it the opportunity for conveyance. For the
commissioners- poor commissioners! having proclaimed, that "yet forty
days and Nineveh shall be overthrown," have waited out the date, and,
discontented with their God, are returning to their gourd. And all
the harm I wish them is, that it may not wither about their ears, and
that they may not make their exit in the belly of a whale.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 21, 1778.
P.S.- Though in the tranquillity of my mind I have concluded with a
laugh, yet I have something to mention to the commissioners, which,
to them, is serious and worthy their attention. Their authority is
derived from an Act of Parliament, which likewise describes and
limits their official powers. Their commission, therefore, is only a
recital, and personal investiture, of those powers, or a nomination
and description of the persons who are to execute them. Had it
contained any thing contrary to, or gone beyond the line of, the
written law from which it is derived, and by which it is bound, it
would, by the English constitution, have been treason in the crown,
and the king been subject to an impeachment. He dared not, therefore,
put in his commission what you have put in your proclamation, that
is, he dared not have authorised you in that commission to burn and
destroy any thing in America. You are both in the act and in the
commission styled commissioners for restoring peace, and the methods
for doing it are there pointed out. Your last proclamation is signed
by you as commissioners under that act. You make Parliament the
patron of its contents. Yet, in the body of it, you insert matters
contrary both to the spirit and letter of the act, and what likewise
your king dared not have put in his commission to you. The state of
things in England, gentlemen, is too ticklish for you to run hazards.
You are accountable to Parliament for the execution of that act
according to the letter of it. Your heads may pay for breaking it,
for you certainly have broke it by exceeding it. And as a friend, who
would wish you to escape the paw of the lion, as well as the belly of
the whale, I civilly hint to you, to keep within compass.
Sir Harry Clinton, strictly speaking, is as accountable as the rest;
for though a general, he is likewise a commissioner, acting under a
superior authority. His first obedience is due to the act; and his
plea of being a general, will not and cannot clear him as a
commissioner, for that would suppose the crown, in its single
capacity, to have a power of dispensing with an Act of Parliament.
Your situation, gentlemen, is nice and critical, and the more so
because England is unsettled. Take heed! Remember the times of
Charles the First! For Laud and Stafford fell by trusting to a hope
like yours.
Having thus shown you the danger of your proclamation, I now show you
the folly of it. The means contradict your design: you threaten to
lay waste, in order to render America a useless acquisition of
alliance to France. I reply, that the more destruction you commit (if
you could do it) the more valuable to France you make that alliance.
You can destroy only houses and goods; and by so doing you increase
our demand upon her for materials and merchandise; for the wants of
one nation, provided it has freedom and credit, naturally produce
riches to the other; and, as you can neither ruin the land nor
prevent the vegetation, you would increase the exportation of our
produce in payment, which would be to her a new fund of wealth. In
short, had you cast about for a plan on purpose to enrich your
enemies, you could not have hit upon a better.
C. S. **End of Part 1 on revolutionarywararchives.org**
|
