PART 2: Chapters VII - XIII
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[Redactor's Note: Reprinted from the "The Writings of Thomas Paine
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------
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)
--------------------------------------------------------------------
**Part 2 on revolutionarywararchives.org**
The Crisis
VIII.
ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND.
"TRUSTING (says the king of England in his speech of November last,)
in the divine providence, and in the justice of my cause, I am firmly
resolved to prosecute the war with vigor, and to make every exertion
in order to compel our enemies to equitable terms of peace and
accommodation." To this declaration the United States of America, and
the confederated powers of Europe will reply, if Britain will have
war, she shall have enough of it.
Five years have nearly elapsed since the commencement of hostilities,
and every campaign, by a gradual decay, has lessened your ability to
conquer, without producing a serious thought on your condition or
your fate. Like a prodigal lingering in an habitual consumption, you
feel the relics of life, and mistake them for recovery. New schemes,
like new medicines, have administered fresh hopes, and prolonged the
disease instead of curing it. A change of generals, like a change of
physicians, served only to keep the flattery alive, and furnish new
pretences for new extravagance.
"Can Britain fail?"* has been proudly asked at the undertaking of
every enterprise; and that "whatever she wills is fate,"*(2) has been
given with the solemnity of prophetic confidence; and though the
question has been constantly replied to by disappointment, and the
prediction falsified by misfortune, yet still the insult continued,
and your catalogue of national evils increased therewith. Eager to
persuade the world of her power, she considered destruction as the
minister of greatness, and conceived that the glory of a nation like
that of an [American] Indian, lay in the number of its scalps and the
miseries which it inflicts.
* Whitehead's New Year's ode for 1776.
*(2) Ode at the installation of Lord North, for Chancellor of the
University of Oxford.
Fire, sword and want, as far as the arms of Britain could extend
them, have been spread with wanton cruelty along the coast of
America; and while you, remote from the scene of suffering, had
nothing to lose and as little to dread, the information reached you
like a tale of antiquity, in which the distance of time defaces the
conception, and changes the severest sorrows into conversable
amusement.
This makes the second paper, addressed perhaps in vain, to the people
of England. That advice should be taken wherever example has failed,
or precept be regarded where warning is ridiculed, is like a picture
of hope resting on despair: but when time shall stamp with universal
currency the facts you have long encountered with a laugh, and the
irresistible evidence of accumulated losses, like the handwriting on
the wall, shall add terror to distress, you will then, in a conflict
of suffering, learn to sympathize with others by feeling for
yourselves.
The triumphant appearance of the combined fleets in the channel and
at your harbor's mouth, and the expedition of Captain Paul Jones, on
the western and eastern coasts of England and Scotland, will, by
placing you in the condition of an endangered country, read to you a
stronger lecture on the calamities of invasion, and bring to your
minds a truer picture of promiscuous distress, than the most finished
rhetoric can describe or the keenest imagination conceive.
Hitherto you have experienced the expenses, but nothing of the
miseries of war. Your disappointments have been accompanied with no
immediate suffering, and your losses came to you only by
intelligence. Like fire at a distance you heard not even the cry; you
felt not the danger, you saw not the confusion. To you every thing
has been foreign but the taxes to support it. You knew not what it
was to be alarmed at midnight with an armed enemy in the streets. You
were strangers to the distressing scene of a family in flight, and to
the thousand restless cares and tender sorrows that incessantly
arose. To see women and children wandering in the severity of winter,
with the broken remains of a well furnished house, and seeking
shelter in every crib and hut, were matters that you had no
conception of. You knew not what it was to stand by and see your
goods chopped for fuel, and your beds ripped to pieces to make
packages for plunder. The misery of others, like a tempestuous night,
added to the pleasures of your own security. You even enjoyed the
storm, by contemplating the difference of conditions, and that which
carried sorrow into the breasts of thousands served but to heighten
in you a species of tranquil pride. Yet these are but the fainter
sufferings of war, when compared with carnage and slaughter, the
miseries of a military hospital, or a town in flames.
The people of America, by anticipating distress, had fortified their
minds against every species you could inflict. They had resolved to
abandon their homes, to resign them to destruction, and to seek new
settlements rather than submit. Thus familiarized to misfortune,
before it arrived, they bore their portion with the less regret: the
justness of their cause was a continual source of consolation, and
the hope of final victory, which never left them, served to lighten
the load and sweeten the cup allotted them to drink.
But when their troubles shall become yours, and invasion be
transferred upon the invaders, you will have neither their extended
wilderness to fly to, their cause to comfort you, nor their hope to
rest upon. Distress with them was sharpened by no self-reflection.
They had not brought it on themselves. On the contrary, they had by
every proceeding endeavored to avoid it, and had descended even below
the mark of congressional character, to prevent a war. The national
honor or the advantages of independence were matters which, at the
commencement of the dispute, they had never studied, and it was only
at the last moment that the measure was resolved on. Thus
circumstanced, they naturally and conscientiously felt a dependence
upon providence. They had a clear pretension to it, and had they
failed therein, infidelity had gained a triumph.
But your condition is the reverse of theirs. Every thing you suffer
you have sought: nay, had you created mischiefs on purpose to inherit
them, you could not have secured your title by a firmer deed. The
world awakens with no pity it your complaints. You felt none for
others; you deserve none for yourselves. Nature does not interest
herself in cases like yours, but, on the contrary, turns from them
with dislike, and abandons them to punishment. You may now present
memorials to what court you please, but so far as America is the
object, none will listen. The policy of Europe, and the propensity
there in every mind to curb insulting ambition, and bring cruelty to
judgment, are unitedly against you; and where nature and interest
reinforce with each other, the compact is too intimate to be
dissolved.
Make but the case of others your own, and your own theirs, and you
will then have a clear idea of the whole. Had France acted towards
her colonies as you have done, you would have branded her with every
epithet of abhorrence; and had you, like her, stepped in to succor a
struggling people, all Europe must have echoed with your own
applauses. But entangled in the passion of dispute you see it not as
you ought, and form opinions thereon which suit with no interest but
your own. You wonder that America does not rise in union with you to
impose on herself a portion of your taxes and reduce herself to
unconditional submission. You are amazed that the southern powers of
Europe do not assist you in conquering a country which is afterwards
to be turned against themselves; and that the northern ones do not
contribute to reinstate you in America who already enjoy the market
for naval stores by the separation. You seem surprised that Holland
does not pour in her succors to maintain you mistress of the seas,
when her own commerce is suffering by your act of navigation; or that
any country should study her own interest while yours is on the
carpet.
Such excesses of passionate folly, and unjust as well as unwise
resentment, have driven you on, like Pharaoh, to unpitied miseries,
and while the importance of the quarrel shall perpetuate your
disgrace, the flag of America will carry it round the world. The
natural feelings of every rational being will be against you, and
wherever the story shall be told, you will have neither excuse nor
consolation left. With an unsparing hand, and an insatiable mind, you
have desolated the world, to gain dominion and to lose it; and while,
in a frenzy of avarice and ambition, the east and the west are doomed
to tributary bondage, you rapidly earned destruction as the wages of
a nation.
At the thoughts of a war at home, every man amongst you ought to
tremble. The prospect is far more dreadful there than in America.
Here the party that was against the measures of the continent were in
general composed of a kind of neutrals, who added strength to neither
army. There does not exist a being so devoid of sense and sentiment
as to covet "unconditional submission," and therefore no man in
America could be with you in principle. Several might from a
cowardice of mind, prefer it to the hardships and dangers of opposing
it; but the same disposition that gave them such a choice, unfitted
them to act either for or against us. But England is rent into
parties, with equal shares of resolution. The principle which
produced the war divides the nation. Their animosities are in the
highest state of fermentation, and both sides, by a call of the
militia, are in arms. No human foresight can discern, no conclusion
can be formed, what turn a war might take, if once set on foot by an
invasion. She is not now in a fit disposition to make a common cause
of her own affairs, and having no conquests to hope for abroad, and
nothing but expenses arising at home, her everything is staked upon a
defensive combat, and the further she goes the worse she is off.
There are situations that a nation may be in, in which peace or war,
abstracted from every other consideration, may be politically right
or wrong. When nothing can be lost by a war, but what must be lost
without it, war is then the policy of that country; and such was the
situation of America at the commencement of hostilities: but when no
security can be gained by a war, but what may be accomplished by a
peace, the case becomes reversed, and such now is the situation of
England.
That America is beyond the reach of conquest, is a fact which
experience has shown and time confirmed, and this admitted, what, I
ask, is now the object of contention? If there be any honor in
pursuing self-destruction with inflexible passion- if national
suicide be the perfection of national glory, you may, with all the
pride of criminal happiness, expire unenvied and unrivalled. But when
the tumult of war shall cease, and the tempest of present passions be
succeeded by calm reflection, or when those, who, surviving its fury,
shall inherit from you a legacy of debts and misfortunes, when the
yearly revenue scarcely be able to discharge the interest of the one,
and no possible remedy be left for the other, ideas far different
from the present will arise, and embitter the remembrance of former
follies. A mind disarmed of its rage feels no pleasure in
contemplating a frantic quarrel. Sickness of thought, the sure
consequence of conduct like yours, leaves no ability for enjoyment,
no relish for resentment; and though, like a man in a fit, you feel
not the injury of the struggle, nor distinguish between strength and
disease, the weakness will nevertheless be proportioned to the
violence, and the sense of pain increase with the recovery.
To what persons or to whose system of politics you owe your present
state of wretchedness, is a matter of total indifference to America.
They have contributed, however unwillingly, to set her above
themselves, and she, in the tranquillity of conquest, resigns the
inquiry. The case now is not so properly who began the war, as who
continues it. That there are men in all countries to whom a state of
war is a mine of wealth, is a fact never to be doubted. Characters
like these naturally breed in the putrefaction of distempered times,
and after fattening on the disease, they perish with it, or,
impregnated with the stench, retreat into obscurity.
But there are several erroneous notions to which you likewise owe a
share of your misfortunes, and which, if continued, will only
increase your trouble and your losses. An opinion hangs about the
gentlemen of the minority, that America would relish measures under
their administration, which she would not from the present cabinet.
On this rock Lord Chatham would have split had he gained the helm,
and several of his survivors are steering the same course. Such
distinctions in the infancy of the argument had some degree of
foundation, but they now serve no other purpose than to lengthen out
a war, in which the limits of a dispute, being fixed by the fate of
arms, and guaranteed by treaties, are not to be changed or altered by
trivial circumstances.
The ministry, and many of the minority, sacrifice their time in
disputing on a question with which they have nothing to do, namely,
whether America shall be independent or not. Whereas the only
question that can come under their determination is, whether they
will accede to it or not. They confound a military question with a
political one, and undertake to supply by a vote what they lost by a
battle. Say she shall not be independent, and it will signify as much
as if they voted against a decree of fate, or say that she shall, and
she will be no more independent than before. Questions which, when
determined, cannot be executed, serve only to show the folly of
dispute and the weakness of disputants.
From a long habit of calling America your own, you suppose her
governed by the same prejudices and conceits which govern yourselves.
Because you have set up a particular denomination of religion to the
exclusion of all others, you imagine she must do the same, and
because you, with an unsociable narrowness of mind, have cherished
enmity against France and Spain, you suppose her alliance must be
defective in friendship. Copying her notions of the world from you,
she formerly thought as you instructed, but now feeling herself free,
and the prejudice removed, she thinks and acts upon a different
system. It frequently happens that in proportion as we are taught to
dislike persons and countries, not knowing why, we feel an ardor of
esteem upon the removal of the mistake: it seems as if something was
to be made amends for, and we eagerly give in to every office of
friendship, to atone for the injury of the error. But, perhaps, there
is something in the extent of countries, which, among the generality
of people, insensibly communicates extension of the mind. The soul of
an islander, in its native state, seems bounded by the foggy confines
of the water's edge, and all beyond affords to him matters only for
profit or curiosity, not for friendship. His island is to him his
world, and fixed to that, his every thing centers in it; while those
who are inhabitants of a continent, by casting their eye over a
larger field, take in likewise a larger intellectual circuit, and
thus approaching nearer to an acquaintance with the universe, their
atmosphere of thought is extended, and their liberality fills a wider
space. In short, our minds seem to be measured by countries when we
are men, as they are by places when we are children, and until
something happens to disentangle us from the prejudice, we serve
under it without perceiving it.
In addition to this, it may be remarked, that men who study any
universal science, the principles of which are universally known, or
admitted, and applied without distinction to the common benefit of
all countries, obtain thereby a larger share of philanthropy than
those who only study national arts and improvements. Natural
philosophy, mathematics and astronomy, carry the mind from the
country to the creation, and give it a fitness suited to the extent.
It was not Newton's honor, neither could it be his pride, that he was
an Englishman, but that he was a philosopher, the heavens had
liberated him from the prejudices of an island, and science had
expanded his soul as boundless as his studies.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, March, 1780.
The Crisis
IX.
HAD America pursued her advantages with half the spirit that she
resisted her misfortunes, she would, before now, have been a
conquering and a peaceful people; but lulled in the lap of soft
tranquillity, she rested on her hopes, and adversity only has
convulsed her into action. Whether subtlety or sincerity at the close
of the last year induced the enemy to an appearance for peace, is a
point not material to know; it is sufficient that we see the effects
it has had on our politics, and that we sternly rise to resent the
delusion.
The war, on the part of America, has been a war of natural feelings.
Brave in distress; serene in conquest; drowsy while at rest; and in
every situation generously disposed to peace; a dangerous calm, and a
most heightened zeal have, as circumstances varied, succeeded each
other. Every passion but that of despair has been called to a tour of
duty; and so mistaken has been the enemy, of our abilities and
disposition, that when she supposed us conquered, we rose the
conquerors. The extensiveness of the United States, and the variety
of their resources; the universality of their cause, the quick
operation of their feelings, and the similarity of their sentiments,
have, in every trying situation, produced a something, which, favored
by providence, and pursued with ardor, has accomplished in an instant
the business of a campaign. We have never deliberately sought
victory, but snatched it; and bravely undone in an hour the blotted
operations of a season.
The reported fate of Charleston, like the misfortunes of 1776, has at
last called forth a spirit, and kindled up a flame, which perhaps no
other event could have produced. If the enemy has circulated a
falsehood, they have unwisely aggravated us into life, and if they
have told us the truth, they have unintentionally done us a service.
We were returning with folded arms from the fatigues of war, and
thinking and sitting leisurely down to enjoy repose. The dependence
that has been put upon Charleston threw a drowsiness over America. We
looked on the business done- the conflict over- the matter settled-
or that all which remained unfinished would follow of itself. In this
state of dangerous relaxation, exposed to the poisonous infusions of
the enemy, and having no common danger to attract our attention, we
were extinguishing, by stages, the ardor we began with, and
surrendering by piece-meal the virtue that defended us.
Afflicting as the loss of Charleston may be, yet if it universally
rouse us from the slumber of twelve months past, and renew in us the
spirit of former days, it will produce an advantage more important
than its loss. America ever is what she thinks herself to be.
Governed by sentiment, and acting her own mind, she becomes, as she
pleases, the victor or the victim.
It is not the conquest of towns, nor the accidental capture of
garrisons, that can reduce a country so extensive as this. The
sufferings of one part can never be relieved by the exertions of
another, and there is no situation the enemy can be placed in that
does not afford to us the same advantages which he seeks himself. By
dividing his force, he leaves every post attackable. It is a mode of
war that carries with it a confession of weakness, and goes on the
principle of distress rather than conquest.
The decline of the enemy is visible, not only in their operations,
but in their plans; Charleston originally made but a secondary object
in the system of attack, and it is now become their principal one,
because they have not been able to succeed elsewhere. It would have
carried a cowardly appearance in Europe had they formed their grand
expedition, in 1776, against a part of the continent where there was
no army, or not a sufficient one to oppose them; but failing year
after year in their impressions here, and to the eastward and
northward, they deserted their capital design, and prudently
contenting themselves with what they can get, give a flourish of
honor to conceal disgrace.
But this piece-meal work is not conquering the continent. It is a
discredit in them to attempt it, and in us to suffer it. It is now
full time to put an end to a war of aggravations, which, on one side,
has no possible object, and on the other has every inducement which
honor, interest, safety and happiness can inspire. If we suffer them
much longer to remain among us, we shall become as bad as themselves.
An association of vice will reduce us more than the sword. A nation
hardened in the practice of iniquity knows better how to profit by
it, than a young country newly corrupted. We are not a match for them
in the line of advantageous guilt, nor they for us on the principles
which we bravely set out with. Our first days were our days of honor.
They have marked the character of America wherever the story of her
wars are told; and convinced of this, we have nothing to do but
wisely and unitedly to tread the well known track. The progress of a
war is often as ruinous to individuals, as the issue of it is to a
nation; and it is not only necessary that our forces be such that we
be conquerors in the end, but that by timely exertions we be secure
in the interim. The present campaign will afford an opportunity which
has never presented itself before, and the preparations for it are
equally necessary, whether Charleston stand or fall. Suppose the
first, it is in that case only a failure of the enemy, not a defeat.
All the conquest that a besieged town can hope for, is, not to be
conquered; and compelling an enemy to raise the siege, is to the
besieged a victory. But there must be a probability amounting almost
to a certainty, that would justify a garrison marching out to attack
a retreat. Therefore should Charleston not be taken, and the enemy
abandon the siege, every other part of the continent should prepare
to meet them; and, on the contrary, should it be taken, the same
preparations are necessary to balance the loss, and put ourselves in
a position to co-operate with our allies, immediately on their
arrival.
We are not now fighting our battles alone, as we were in 1776;
England, from a malicious disposition to America, has not only not
declared war against France and Spain, but, the better to prosecute
her passions here, has afforded those powers no military object, and
avoids them, to distress us. She will suffer her West India islands
to be overrun by France, and her southern settlements to be taken by
Spain, rather than quit the object that gratifies her revenge. This
conduct, on the part of Britain, has pointed out the propriety of
France sending a naval and land force to co-operate with America on
the spot. Their arrival cannot be very distant, nor the ravages of
the enemy long. The recruiting the army, and procuring the supplies,
are the two things most necessary to be accomplished, and a capture
of either of the enemy's divisions will restore to America peace and
plenty.
At a crisis, big, like the present, with expectation and events, the
whole country is called to unanimity and exertion. Not an ability
ought now to sleep, that can produce but a mite to the general good,
nor even a whisper to pass that militates against it. The necessity
of the case, and the importance of the consequences, admit no delay
from a friend, no apology from an enemy. To spare now, would be the
height of extravagance, and to consult present ease, would be to
sacrifice it perhaps forever.
America, rich in patriotism and produce, can want neither men nor
supplies, when a serious necessity calls them forth. The slow
operation of taxes, owing to the extensiveness of collection, and
their depreciated value before they arrived in the treasury, have, in
many instances, thrown a burden upon government, which has been
artfully interpreted by the enemy into a general decline throughout
the country. Yet this, inconvenient as it may at first appear, is not
only remediable, but may be turned to an immediate advantage; for it
makes no real difference, whether a certain number of men, or company
of militia (and in this country every man is a militia-man), are
directed by law to send a recruit at their own expense, or whether a
tax is laid on them for that purpose, and the man hired by government
afterwards. The first, if there is any difference, is both cheapest
and best, because it saves the expense which would attend collecting
it as a tax, and brings the man sooner into the field than the modes
of recruiting formerly used; and, on this principle, a law has been
passed in this state, for recruiting two men from each company of
militia, which will add upwards of a thousand to the force of the
country.
But the flame which has broken forth in this city since the report
from New York, of the loss of Charleston, not only does honor to the
place, but, like the blaze of 1776, will kindle into action the
scattered sparks throughout America. The valor of a country may be
learned by the bravery of its soldiery, and the general cast of its
inhabitants, but confidence of success is best discovered by the
active measures pursued by men of property; and when the spirit of
enterprise becomes so universal as to act at once on all ranks of
men, a war may then, and not till then, be styled truly popular.
In 1776, the ardor of the enterprising part was considerably checked
by the real revolt of some, and the coolness of others. But in the
present case, there is a firmness in the substance and property of
the country to the public cause. An association has been entered into
by the merchants, tradesmen, and principal inhabitants of the city
[Philadelphia], to receive and support the new state money at the
value of gold and silver; a measure which, while it does them honor,
will likewise contribute to their interest, by rendering the
operations of the campaign convenient and effectual.
Nor has the spirit of exertion stopped here. A voluntary subscription
is likewise begun, to raise a fund of hard money, to be given as
bounties, to fill up the full quota of the Pennsylvania line. It has
been the remark of the enemy, that every thing in America has been
done by the force of government; but when she sees individuals
throwing in their voluntary aid, and facilitating the public measures
in concert with the established powers of the country, it will
convince her that the cause of America stands not on the will of a
few but on the broad foundation of property and popularity.
Thus aided and thus supported, disaffection will decline, and the
withered head of tyranny expire in America. The ravages of the enemy
will be short and limited, and like all their former ones, will
produce a victory over themselves.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, June 9, 1780.
P. S. At the time of writing this number of the Crisis, the loss of
Charleston, though believed by some, was more confidently disbelieved
by others. But there ought to be no longer a doubt upon the matter.
Charleston is gone, and I believe for the want of a sufficient supply
of provisions. The man that does not now feel for the honor of the
best and noblest cause that ever a country engaged in, and exert
himself accordingly, is no longer worthy of a peaceable residence
among a people determined to be free.
C. S.
THE CRISIS EXTRAORDINARY
ON THE SUBJECT OF TAXATION.
IT IS impossible to sit down and think seriously on the affairs of
America, but the original principles upon which she resisted, and the
glow and ardor which they inspired, will occur like the undefaced
remembrance of a lovely scene. To trace over in imagination the
purity of the cause, the voluntary sacrifices that were made to
support it, and all the various turnings of the war in its defence,
is at once both paying and receiving respect. The principles deserve
to be remembered, and to remember them rightly is repossessing them.
In this indulgence of generous recollection, we become gainers by
what we seem to give, and the more we bestow the richer we become.
So extensively right was the ground on which America proceeded, that
it not only took in every just and liberal sentiment which could
impress the heart, but made it the direct interest of every class and
order of men to defend the country. The war, on the part of Britain,
was originally a war of covetousness. The sordid and not the splendid
passions gave it being. The fertile fields and prosperous infancy of
America appeared to her as mines for tributary wealth. She viewed the
hive, and disregarding the industry that had enriched it, thirsted
for the honey. But in the present stage of her affairs, the violence
of temper is added to the rage of avarice; and therefore, that which
at the first setting out proceeded from purity of principle and
public interest, is now heightened by all the obligations of
necessity; for it requires but little knowledge of human nature to
discern what would be the consequence, were America again reduced to
the subjection of Britain. Uncontrolled power, in the hands of an
incensed, imperious, and rapacious conqueror, is an engine of
dreadful execution, and woe be to that country over which it can be
exercised. The names of Whig and Tory would then be sunk in the
general term of rebel, and the oppression, whatever it might be,
would, with very few instances of exception, light equally on all.
Britain did not go to war with America for the sake of dominion,
because she was then in possession; neither was it for the extension
of trade and commerce, because she had monopolized the whole, and the
country had yielded to it; neither was it to extinguish what she
might call rebellion, because before she began no resistance existed.
It could then be from no other motive than avarice, or a design of
establishing, in the first instance, the same taxes in America as are
paid in England (which, as I shall presently show, are above eleven
times heavier than the taxes we now pay for the present year, 1780)
or, in the second instance, to confiscate the whole property of
America, in case of resistance and conquest of the latter, of which
she had then no doubt.
I shall now proceed to show what the taxes in England are, and what
the yearly expense of the present war is to her- what the taxes of
this country amount to, and what the annual expense of defending it
effectually will be to us; and shall endeavor concisely to point out
the cause of our difficulties, and the advantages on one side, and
the consequences on the other, in case we do, or do not, put
ourselves in an effectual state of defence. I mean to be open,
candid, and sincere. I see a universal wish to expel the enemy from
the country, a murmuring because the war is not carried on with more
vigor, and my intention is to show, as shortly as possible, both the
reason and the remedy.
The number of souls in England (exclusive of Scotland and Ireland) is
seven millions,* and the number of souls in America is three
millions.
* This is taking the highest number that the people of England have
been, or can be rated at.
The amount of taxes in England (exclusive of Scotland and Ireland)
was, before the present war commenced, eleven millions six hundred
and forty-two thousand six hundred and fifty-three pounds sterling;
which, on an average, is no less a sum than one pound thirteen
shillings and three-pence sterling per head per annum, men, women,
and children; besides county taxes, taxes for the support of the
poor, and a tenth of all the produce of the earth for the support of
the bishops and clergy.* Nearly five millions of this sum went
annually to pay the interest of the national debt, contracted by
former wars, and the remaining sum of six millions six hundred and
forty-two thousand six hundred pounds was applied to defray the
yearly expense of government, the peace establishment of the army and
navy, placemen, pensioners, etc.; consequently the whole of the
enormous taxes being thus appropriated, she had nothing to spare out
of them towards defraying the expenses of the present war or any
other. Yet had she not been in debt at the beginning of the war, as
we were not, and, like us, had only a land and not a naval war to
carry on, her then revenue of eleven millions and a half pounds
sterling would have defrayed all her annual expenses of war and
government within each year.
* The following is taken from Dr. Price's state of the taxes of
England.
An account of the money drawn from the public by taxes, annually,
being the medium of three years before the year 1776.
Amount of customs in England 2,528,275 L.
Amount of the excise in England 4,649,892
Land tax at 3s. 1,300,000
Land tax at 1s. in the pound 450,000
Salt duties 218,739
Duties on stamps, cards, dice, advertisements,
bonds, leases, indentures, newspapers,
almanacks, etc. 280,788
Duties on houses and windows 385,369
Post office, seizures, wine licences, hackney
coaches, etc. 250,000
Annual profits from lotteries 150,000
Expense of collecting the excise in England 297,887
Expense of collecting the customs in England 468,703
Interest of loans on the land tax at 4s. expenses
of collection, militia, etc. 250,000
Perquisites, etc. to custom-house officers, &c.
supposed 250,000
Expense of collecting the salt duties in England
10 1/2 per cent. 27,000
Bounties on fish exported 18,000
Expense of collecting the duties on stamps, cards,
advertisements, etc. at 5 and 1/4 per cent. 18,000
Total 11,642,653 L.
But this not being the case with her, she is obliged to borrow about
ten millions pounds sterling, yearly, to prosecute the war that she
is now engaged in, (this year she borrowed twelve) and lay on new
taxes to discharge the interest; allowing that the present war has
cost her only fifty millions sterling, the interest thereon, at five
per cent., will be two millions and an half; therefore the amount of
her taxes now must be fourteen millions, which on an average is no
less than forty shillings sterling, per head, men, women and
children, throughout the nation. Now as this expense of fifty
millions was borrowed on the hopes of conquering America, and as it
was avarice which first induced her to commence the war, how truly
wretched and deplorable would the condition of this country be, were
she, by her own remissness, to suffer an enemy of such a disposition,
and so circumstanced, to reduce her to subjection.
I now proceed to the revenues of America.
I have already stated the number of souls in America to be three
millions, and by a calculation that I have made, which I have every
reason to believe is sufficiently correct, the whole expense of the
war, and the support of the several governments, may be defrayed for
two million pounds sterling annually; which, on an average, is
thirteen shillings and four pence per head, men, women, and children,
and the peace establishment at the end of the war will be but three
quarters of a million, or five shillings sterling per head. Now,
throwing out of the question everything of honor, principle,
happiness, freedom, and reputation in the world, and taking it up on
the simple ground of interest, I put the following case:
Suppose Britain was to conquer America, and, as a conqueror, was to
lay her under no other conditions than to pay the same proportion
towards her annual revenue which the people of England pay: our
share, in that case, would be six million pounds sterling yearly. Can
it then be a question, whether it is best to raise two millions to
defend the country, and govern it ourselves, and only three quarters
of a million afterwards, or pay six millions to have it conquered,
and let the enemy govern it?
Can it be supposed that conquerors would choose to put themselves in
a worse condition than what they granted to the conquered? In
England, the tax on rum is five shillings and one penny sterling per
gallon, which is one silver dollar and fourteen coppers. Now would it
not be laughable to imagine, that after the expense they have been
at, they would let either Whig or Tory drink it cheaper than
themselves? Coffee, which is so inconsiderable an article of
consumption and support here, is there loaded with a duty which makes
the price between five and six shillings per pound, and a penalty of
fifty pounds sterling on any person detected in roasting it in his
own house. There is scarcely a necessary of life that you can eat,
drink, wear, or enjoy, that is not there loaded with a tax; even the
light from heaven is only permitted to shine into their dwellings by
paying eighteen pence sterling per window annually; and the humblest
drink of life, small beer, cannot there be purchased without a tax of
nearly two coppers per gallon, besides a heavy tax upon the malt, and
another on the hops before it is brewed, exclusive of a land-tax on
the earth which produces them. In short, the condition of that
country, in point of taxation, is so oppressive, the number of her
poor so great, and the extravagance and rapaciousness of the court so
enormous, that, were they to effect a conquest of America, it is then
only that the distresses of America would begin. Neither would it
signify anything to a man whether he be Whig or Tory. The people of
England, and the ministry of that country, know us by no such
distinctions. What they want is clear, solid revenue, and the modes
which they would take to procure it, would operate alike on all.
Their manner of reasoning would be short, because they would
naturally infer, that if we were able to carry on a war of five or
six years against them, we were able to pay the same taxes which they
do.
I have already stated that the expense of conducting the present war,
and the government of the several states, may be done for two
millions sterling, and the establishment in the time of peace, for
three quarters of a million.*
* I have made the calculations in sterling, because it is a rate
generally known in all the states, and because, likewise, it admits
of an easy comparison between our expenses to support the war, and
those of the enemy. Four silver dollars and a half is one pound
sterling, and three pence over.
As to navy matters, they flourish so well, and are so well attended
to by individuals, that I think it consistent on every principle of
real use and economy, to turn the navy into hard money (keeping only
three or four packets) and apply it to the service of the army. We
shall not have a ship the less; the use of them, and the benefit from
them, will be greatly increased, and their expense saved. We are now
allied with a formidable naval power, from whom we derive the
assistance of a navy. And the line in which we can prosecute the war,
so as to reduce the common enemy and benefit the alliance most
effectually, will be by attending closely to the land service.
I estimate the charge of keeping up and maintaining an army,
officering them, and all expenses included, sufficient for the
defence of the country, to be equal to the expense of forty thousand
men at thirty pounds sterling per head, which is one million two
hundred thousand pounds.
I likewise allow four hundred thousand pounds for continental
expenses at home and abroad.
And four hundred thousand pounds for the support of the several state
governments- the amount will then be:
For the army 1,200,000 L.
Continental expenses at home and abroad 400,000
Government of the several states 400,000
Total 2,000,000 L.
I take the proportion of this state, Pennsylvania, to be an eighth
part of the thirteen United States; the quota then for us to raise
will be two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling; two hundred
thousand of which will be our share for the support and pay of the
army, and continental expenses at home and abroad, and fifty thousand
pounds for the support of the state government.
In order to gain an idea of the proportion in which the raising such
a sum will fall, I make the following calculation:
Pennsylvania contains three hundred and seventy-five thousand
inhabitants, men, women and children; which is likewise an eighth of
the number of inhabitants of the whole United States: therefore, two
hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling to be raised among three
hundred and seventy-five thousand persons, is, on an average,
thirteen shillings and four pence per head, per annum, or something
more than one shilling sterling per month. And our proportion of
three quarters of a million for the government of the country, in
time of peace, will be ninety-three thousand seven hundred and fifty
pounds sterling; fifty thousand of which will be for the government
expenses of the state, and forty-three thousand seven hundred and
fifty pounds for continental expenses at home and abroad.
The peace establishment then will, on an average, be five shillings
sterling per head. Whereas, was England now to stop, and the war
cease, her peace establishment would continue the same as it is now,
viz. forty shillings per head; therefore was our taxes necessary for
carrying on the war, as much per head as hers now is, and the
difference to be only whether we should, at the end of the war, pay
at the rate of five shillings per head, or forty shillings per head,
the case needs no thinking of. But as we can securely defend and keep
the country for one third less than what our burden would be if it
was conquered, and support the governments afterwards for one eighth
of what Britain would levy on us, and could I find a miser whose
heart never felt the emotion of a spark of principle, even that man,
uninfluenced by every love but the love of money, and capable of no
attachment but to his interest, would and must, from the frugality
which governs him, contribute to the defence of the country, or he
ceases to be a miser and becomes an idiot. But when we take in with
it every thing that can ornament mankind; when the line of our
interest becomes the line of our happiness; when all that can cheer
and animate the heart, when a sense of honor, fame, character, at
home and abroad, are interwoven not only with the security but the
increase of property, there exists not a man in America, unless he be
an hired emissary, who does not see that his good is connected with
keeping up a sufficient defence.
I do not imagine that an instance can be produced in the world, of a
country putting herself to such an amazing charge to conquer and
enslave another, as Britain has done. The sum is too great for her to
think of with any tolerable degree of temper; and when we consider
the burden she sustains, as well as the disposition she has shown, it
would be the height of folly in us to suppose that she would not
reimburse herself by the most rapid means, had she America once more
within her power. With such an oppression of expense, what would an
empty conquest be to her! What relief under such circumstances could
she derive from a victory without a prize? It was money, it was
revenue she first went to war for, and nothing but that would satisfy
her. It is not the nature of avarice to be satisfied with any thing
else. Every passion that acts upon mankind has a peculiar mode of
operation. Many of them are temporary and fluctuating; they admit of
cessation and variety. But avarice is a fixed, uniform passion. It
neither abates of its vigor nor changes its object; and the reason
why it does not, is founded in the nature of things, for wealth has
not a rival where avarice is a ruling passion. One beauty may excel
another, and extinguish from the mind of man the pictured remembrance
of a former one: but wealth is the phoenix of avarice, and therefore
it cannot seek a new object, because there is not another in the
world.
I now pass on to show the value of the present taxes, and compare
them with the annual expense; but this I shall preface with a few
explanatory remarks.
There are two distinct things which make the payment of taxes
difficult; the one is the large and real value of the sum to be paid,
and the other is the scarcity of the thing in which the payment is to
be made; and although these appear to be one and the same, they are
in several instances riot only different, but the difficulty springs
from different causes.
Suppose a tax to be laid equal to one half of what a man's yearly
income is, such a tax could not be paid, because the property could
not be spared; and on the other hand, suppose a very trifling tax was
laid, to be collected in pearls, such a tax likewise could not be
paid, because they could not be had. Now any person may see that
these are distinct cases, and the latter of them is a representation
of our own.
That the difficulty cannot proceed from the former, that is, from the
real value or weight of the tax, is evident at the first view to any
person who will consider it.
The amount of the quota of taxes for this State for the year, 1780,
(and so in proportion for every other State,) is twenty millions of
dollars, which at seventy for one, is but sixty-four thousand two
hundred and eighty pounds three shillings sterling, and on an
average, is no more than three shillings and five pence sterling per
head, per annum, per man, woman and child, or threepence two-fifths
per head per month. Now here is a clear, positive fact, that cannot
be contradicted, and which proves that the difficulty cannot be in
the weight of the tax, for in itself it is a trifle, and far from
being adequate to our quota of the expense of the war. The quit-rents
of one penny sterling per acre on only one half of the state, come to
upwards of fifty thousand pounds, which is almost as much as all the
taxes of the present year, and as those quit-rents made no part of
the taxes then paid, and are now discontinued, the quantity of money
drawn for public-service this year, exclusive of the militia fines,
which I shall take notice of in the process of this work, is less
than what was paid and payable in any year preceding the revolution,
and since the last war; what I mean is, that the quit-rents and taxes
taken together came to a larger sum then, than the present taxes
without the quit-rents do now.
My intention by these arguments and calculations is to place the
difficulty to the right cause, and show that it does not proceed from
the weight or worth of the tax, but from the scarcity of the medium
in which it is paid; and to illustrate this point still further, I
shall now show, that if the tax of twenty millions of dollars was of
four times the real value it now is, or nearly so, which would be
about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling, and would be
our full quota, this sum would have been raised with more ease, and
have been less felt, than the present sum of only sixty-four thousand
two hundred and eighty pounds.
The convenience or inconvenience of paying a tax in money arises from
the quantity of money that can be spared out of trade.
When the emissions stopped, the continent was left in possession of
two hundred millions of dollars, perhaps as equally dispersed as it
was possible for trade to do it. And as no more was to be issued, the
rise or fall of prices could neither increase nor diminish the
quantity. It therefore remained the same through all the fluctuations
of trade and exchange.
Now had the exchange stood at twenty for one, which was the rate
Congress calculated upon when they arranged the quota of the several
states, the latter end of last year, trade would have been carried on
for nearly four times less money than it is now, and consequently the
twenty millions would have been spared with much greater ease, and
when collected would have been of almost four times the value that
they now are. And on the other hand, was the depreciation to be
ninety or one hundred for one, the quantity required for trade would
be more than at sixty or seventy for one, and though the value of
them would be less, the difficulty of sparing the money out of trade
would be greater. And on these facts and arguments I rest the matter,
to prove that it is not the want of property, but the scarcity of the
medium by which the proportion of property for taxation is to be
measured out, that makes the embarrassment which we lie under. There
is not money enough, and, what is equally as true, the people will
not let there be money enough.
While I am on the subject of the currency, I shall offer one remark
which will appear true to everybody, and can be accounted for by
nobody, which is, that the better the times were, the worse the money
grew; and the worse the times were, the better the money stood. It
never depreciated by any advantage obtained by the enemy. The
troubles of 1776, and the loss of Philadelphia in 1777, made no
sensible impression on it, and every one knows that the surrender of
Charleston did not produce the least alteration in the rate of
exchange, which, for long before, and for more than three months
after, stood at sixty for one. It seems as if the certainty of its
being our own, made us careless of its value, and that the most
distant thoughts of losing it made us hug it the closer, like
something we were loth to part with; or that we depreciate it for our
pastime, which, when called to seriousness by the enemy, we leave off
to renew again at our leisure. In short, our good luck seems to break
us, and our bad makes us whole.
Passing on from this digression, I shall now endeavor to bring into
one view the several parts which I have already stated, and form
thereon some propositions, and conclude.
I have placed before the reader, the average tax per head, paid by
the people of England; which is forty shillings sterling.
And I have shown the rate on an average per head, which will defray
all the expenses of the war to us, and support the several
governments without running the country into debt, which is thirteen
shillings and four pence.
I have shown what the peace establishment may be conducted for, viz.,
an eighth part of what it would be, if under the government of
Britain.
And I have likewise shown what the average per head of the present
taxes is, namely, three shillings and fivepence sterling, or
threepence two-fifths per month; and that their whole yearly value,
in sterling, is only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty
pounds. Whereas our quota, to keep the payments equal with the
expenses, is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Consequently,
there is a deficiency of one hundred and eighty-five thousand seven
hundred and twenty pounds, and the same proportion of defect,
according to the several quotas, happens in every other state. And
this defect is the cause why the army has been so indifferently fed,
clothed and paid. It is the cause, likewise, of the nerveless state
of the campaign, and the insecurity of the country. Now, if a tax
equal to thirteen and fourpence per head, will remove all these
difficulties, and make people secure in their homes, leave them to
follow the business of their stores and farms unmolested, and not
only drive out but keep out the enemy from the country; and if the
neglect of raising this sum will let them in, and produce the evils
which might be prevented- on which side, I ask, does the wisdom,
interest and policy lie? Or, rather, would it not be an insult to
reason, to put the question? The sum, when proportioned out according
to the several abilities of the people, can hurt no one, but an
inroad from the enemy ruins hundreds of families.
Look at the destruction done in this city [Philadelphia]. The many
houses totally destroyed, and others damaged; the waste of fences in
the country round it, besides the plunder of furniture, forage, and
provisions. I do not suppose that half a million sterling would
reinstate the sufferers; and, does this, I ask, bear any proportion
to the expense that would make us secure? The damage, on an average,
is at least ten pounds sterling per head, which is as much as
thirteen shillings and fourpence per head comes to for fifteen years.
The same has happened on the frontiers, and in the Jerseys, New York,
and other places where the enemy has been- Carolina and Georgia are
likewise suffering the same fate.
That the people generally do not understand the insufficiency of the
taxes to carry on the war, is evident, not only from common
observation, but from the construction of several petitions which
were presented to the Assembly of this state, against the
recommendation of Congress of the 18th of March last, for taking up
and funding the present currency at forty to one, and issuing new
money in its stead. The prayer of the petition was, that the currency
might be appreciated by taxes (meaning the present taxes) and that
part of the taxes be applied to the support of the army, if the army
could not be otherwise supported. Now it could not have been possible
for such a petition to have been presented, had the petitioners
known, that so far from part of the taxes being sufficient for the
support of the whole of them falls three-fourths short of the year's
expenses.
Before I proceed to propose methods by which a sufficiency of money
may be raised, I shall take a short view of the general state of the
country.
Notwithstanding the weight of the war, the ravages of the enemy, and
the obstructions she has thrown in the way of trade and commerce, so
soon does a young country outgrow misfortune, that America has
already surmounted many that heavily oppressed her. For the first
year or two of the war, we were shut up within our ports, scarce
venturing to look towards the ocean. Now our rivers are beautified
with large and valuable vessels, our stores filled with merchandise,
and the produce of the country has a ready market, and an
advantageous price. Gold and silver, that for a while seemed to have
retreated again within the bowels of the earth, have once more risen
into circulation, and every day adds new strength to trade, commerce
and agriculture. In a pamphlet, written by Sir John Dalrymple, and
dispersed in America in the year 1775, he asserted that two
twenty-gun ships, nay, says he, tenders of those ships, stationed
between Albermarle sound and Chesapeake bay, would shut up the trade
of America for 600 miles. How little did Sir John Dalrymple know of
the abilities of America!
While under the government of Britain, the trade of this country was
loaded with restrictions. It was only a few foreign ports which we
were allowed to sail to. Now it is otherwise; and allowing that the
quantity of trade is but half what it was before the war, the case
must show the vast advantage of an open trade, because the present
quantity under her restrictions could not support itself; from which
I infer, that if half the quantity without the restrictions can bear
itself up nearly, if not quite, as well as the whole when subject to
them, how prosperous must the condition of America be when the whole
shall return open with all the world. By the trade I do not mean the
employment of a merchant only, but the whole interest and business of
the country taken collectively.
It is not so much my intention, by this publication, to propose
particular plans for raising money, as it is to show the necessity
and the advantages to be derived from it. My principal design is to
form the disposition of the people to the measures which I am fully
persuaded it is their interest and duty to adopt, and which need no
other force to accomplish them than the force of being felt. But as
every hint may be useful, I shall throw out a sketch, and leave
others to make such improvements upon it as to them may appear
reasonable.
The annual sum wanted is two millions, and the average rate in which
it falls, is thirteen shillings and fourpence per head.
Suppose, then, that we raise half the sum and sixty thousand pounds
over. The average rate thereof will be seven shillings per head.
In this case we shall have half the supply that we want, and an
annual fund of sixty thousand pounds whereon to borrow the other
million; because sixty thousand pounds is the interest of a million
at six per cent.; and if at the end of another year we should be
obliged, by the continuance of the war, to borrow another million,
the taxes will be increased to seven shillings and sixpence; and thus
for every million borrowed, an additional tax, equal to sixpence per
head, must be levied.
The sum to be raised next year will be one million and sixty thousand
pounds: one half of which I would propose should be raised by duties
on imported goods, and prize goods, and the other half by a tax on
landed property and houses, or such other means as each state may
devise.
But as the duties on imports and prize goods must be the same in all
the states, therefore the rate per cent., or what other form the duty
shall be laid, must be ascertained and regulated by Congress, and
ingrafted in that form into the law of each state; and the monies
arising therefrom carried into the treasury of each state. The duties
to be paid in gold or silver.
There are many reasons why a duty on imports is the most convenient
duty or tax that can be collected; one of which is, because the whole
is payable in a few places in a country, and it likewise operates
with the greatest ease and equality, because as every one pays in
proportion to what he consumes, so people in general consume in
proportion to what they can afford; and therefore the tax is
regulated by the abilities which every man supposes himself to have,
or in other words, every man becomes his own assessor, and pays by a
little at a time, when it suits him to buy. Besides, it is a tax
which people may pay or let alone by not consuming the articles; and
though the alternative may have no influence on their conduct, the
power of choosing is an agreeable thing to the mind. For my own part,
it would be a satisfaction to me was there a duty on all sorts of
liquors during the war, as in my idea of things it would be an
addition to the pleasures of society to know, that when the health of
the army goes round, a few drops, from every glass becomes theirs.
How often have I heard an emphatical wish, almost accompanied by a
tear, "Oh, that our poor fellows in the field had some of this!" Why
then need we suffer under a fruitless sympathy, when there is a way
to enjoy both the wish and the entertainment at once.
But the great national policy of putting a duty upon imports is, that
it either keeps the foreign trade in our own hands, or draws
something for the defence of the country from every foreigner who
participates in it with us.
Thus much for the first half of the taxes, and as each state will
best devise means to raise the other half, I shall confine my remarks
to the resources of this state.
The quota, then, of this state, of one million and sixty thousand
pounds, will be one hundred and thirty-three thousand two hundred and
fifty pounds, the half of which is sixty-six thousand six hundred and
twenty-five pounds; and supposing one fourth part of Pennsylvania
inhabited, then a tax of one bushel of wheat on every twenty acres of
land, one with another, would produce the sum, and all the present
taxes to cease. Whereas, the tithes of the bishops and clergy in
England, exclusive of the taxes, are upwards of half a bushel of
wheat on every single acre of land, good and bad, throughout the
nation.
In the former part of this paper, I mentioned the militia fines, but
reserved speaking of the matter, which I shall now do. The ground I
shall put it upon is, that two millions sterling a year will support
a sufficient army, and all the expenses of war and government,
without having recourse to the inconvenient method of continually
calling men from their employments, which, of all others, is the most
expensive and the least substantial. I consider the revenues created
by taxes as the first and principal thing, and fines only as
secondary and accidental things. It was not the intention of the
militia law to apply the fines to anything else but the support of
the militia, neither do they produce any revenue to the state, yet
these fines amount to more than all the taxes: for taking the
muster-roll to be sixty thousand men, the fine on forty thousand who
may not attend, will be sixty thousand pounds sterling, and those who
muster, will give up a portion of time equal to half that sum, and if
the eight classes should be called within the year, and one third
turn out, the fine on the remaining forty thousand would amount to
seventy-two millions of dollars, besides the fifteen shillings on
every hundred pounds of property, and the charge of seven and a half
per cent. for collecting, in certain instances which, on the whole,
would be upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling.
Now if those very fines disable the country from raising a sufficient
revenue without producing an equivalent advantage, would it not be
for the ease and interest of all parties to increase the revenue, in
the manner I have proposed, or any better, if a better can be
devised, and cease the operation of the fines? I would still keep the
militia as an organized body of men, and should there be a real
necessity to call them forth, pay them out of the proper revenues of
the state, and increase the taxes a third or fourth per cent. on
those who do not attend. My limits will not allow me to go further
into this matter, which I shall therefore close with this remark;
that fines are, of all modes of revenue, the most unsuited to the
minds of a free country. When a man pays a tax, he knows that the
public necessity requires it, and therefore feels a pride in
discharging his duty; but a fine seems an atonement for neglect of
duty, and of consequence is paid with discredit, and frequently
levied with severity.
I have now only one subject more to speak of, with which I shall
conclude, which is, the resolve of Congress of the 18th of March
last, for taking up and funding the present currency at forty for
one, and issuing new money in its stead.
Every one knows that I am not the flatterer of Congress, but in this
instance they are right; and if that measure is supported, the
currency will acquire a value, which, without it, it will not. But
this is not all: it will give relief to the finances until such time
as they can be properly arranged, and save the country from being
immediately doubled taxed under the present mode. In short, support
that measure, and it will support you.
I have now waded through a tedious course of difficult business, and
over an untrodden path. The subject, on every point in which it could
be viewed, was entangled with perplexities, and enveloped in
obscurity, yet such are the resources of America, that she wants
nothing but system to secure success.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 4, 1780.
THE CRISIS
X.
ON THE KING OF ENGLAND'S SPEECH.
OF all the innocent passions which actuate the human mind there is
none more universally prevalent than curiosity. It reaches all
mankind, and in matters which concern us, or concern us not, it alike
provokes in us a desire to know them.
Although the situation of America, superior to every effort to
enslave her, and daily rising to importance and opulence, has placed
her above the region of anxiety, it has still left her within the
circle of curiosity; and her fancy to see the speech of a man who had
proudly threatened to bring her to his feet, was visibly marked with
that tranquil confidence which cared nothing about its contents. It
was inquired after with a smile, read with a laugh, and dismissed
with disdain.
But, as justice is due, even to an enemy, it is right to say, that
the speech is as well managed as the embarrassed condition of their
affairs could well admit of; and though hardly a line of it is true,
except the mournful story of Cornwallis, it may serve to amuse the
deluded commons and people of England, for whom it was calculated.
"The war," says the speech, "is still unhappily prolonged by that
restless ambition which first excited our enemies to commence it, and
which still continues to disappoint my earnest wishes and diligent
exertions to restore the public tranquillity."
How easy it is to abuse truth and language, when men, by habitual
wickedness, have learned to set justice at defiance. That the very
man who began the war, who with the most sullen insolence refused to
answer, and even to hear the humblest of all petitions, who has
encouraged his officers and his army in the most savage cruelties,
and the most scandalous plunderings, who has stirred up the Indians
on one side, and the negroes on the other, and invoked every aid of
hell in his behalf, should now, with an affected air of pity, turn
the tables from himself, and charge to another the wickedness that is
his own, can only be equalled by the baseness of the heart that spoke
it.
To be nobly wrong is more manly than to be meanly right, is an
expression I once used on a former occasion, and it is equally
applicable now. We feel something like respect for consistency even
in error. We lament the virtue that is debauched into a vice, but the
vice that affects a virtue becomes the more detestable: and amongst
the various assumptions of character, which hypocrisy has taught, and
men have practised, there is none that raises a higher relish of
disgust, than to see disappointed inveteracy twisting itself, by the
most visible falsehoods, into an appearance of piety which it has no
pretensions to.
"But I should not," continues the speech, "answer the trust committed
to the sovereign of a free people, nor make a suitable return to my
subjects for their constant, zealous, and affectionate attachment to
my person, family and government, if I consented to sacrifice, either
to my own desire of peace, or to their temporary ease and relief,
those essential rights and permanent interests, upon the maintenance
and preservation of which, the future strength and security of this
country must principally depend."
That the man whose ignorance and obstinacy first involved and still
continues the nation in the most hopeless and expensive of all wars,
should now meanly flatter them with the name of a free people, and
make a merit of his crime, under the disguise of their essential
rights and permanent interests, is something which disgraces even the
character of perverseness. Is he afraid they will send him to
Hanover, or what does he fear? Why is the sycophant thus added to the
hypocrite, and the man who pretends to govern, sunk into the humble
and submissive memorialist?
What those essential rights and permanent interests are, on which the
future strength and security of England must principally depend, are
not so much as alluded to. They are words which impress nothing but
the ear, and are calculated only for the sound.
But if they have any reference to America, then do they amount to the
disgraceful confession, that England, who once assumed to be her
protectress, has now become her dependant. The British king and
ministry are constantly holding up the vast importance which America
is of to England, in order to allure the nation to carry on the war:
now, whatever ground there is for this idea, it ought to have
operated as a reason for not beginning it; and, therefore, they
support their present measures to their own disgrace, because the
arguments which they now use, are a direct reflection on their former
policy.
"The favorable appearance of affairs," continues the speech, "in the
East Indies, and the safe arrival of the numerous commercial fleets
of my kingdom, must have given you satisfaction."
That things are not quite so bad every where as in America may be
some cause of consolation, but can be none for triumph. One broken
leg is better than two, but still it is not a source of joy: and let
the appearance of affairs in the East Indies be ever so favorable,
they are nevertheless worse than at first, without a prospect of
their ever being better. But the mournful story of Cornwallis was yet
to be told, and it was necessary to give it the softest introduction
possible.
"But in the course of this year," continues the speech, "my assiduous
endeavors to guard the extensive dominions of my crown have not been
attended with success equal to the justice and uprightness of my
views."- What justice and uprightness there was in beginning a war
with America, the world will judge of, and the unequalled barbarity
with which it has been conducted, is not to be worn from the memory
by the cant of snivelling hypocrisy.
"And it is with great concern that I inform you that the events of
war have been very unfortunate to my arms in Virginia, having ended
in the loss of my forces in that province."- And our great concern is
that they are not all served in the same manner.
"No endeavors have been wanted on my part," says the speech, "to
extinguish that spirit of rebellion which our enemies have found
means to foment and maintain in the colonies; and to restore to my
deluded subjects in America that happy and prosperous condition which
they formerly derived from a due obedience to the laws."
The expression of deluded subjects is become so hacknied and
contemptible, and the more so when we see them making prisoners of
whole armies at a time, that the pride of not being laughed at would
induce a man of common sense to leave it off. But the most offensive
falsehood in the paragraph is the attributing the prosperity of
America to a wrong cause. It was the unremitted industry of the
settlers and their descendants, the hard labor and toil of
persevering fortitude, that were the true causes of the prosperity of
America. The former tyranny of England served to people it, and the
virtue of the adventurers to improve it. Ask the man, who, with his
axe, has cleared a way in the wilderness, and now possesses an
estate, what made him rich, and he will tell you the labor of his
hands, the sweat of his brow, and the blessing of heaven. Let Britain
but leave America to herself and she asks no more. She has risen into
greatness without the knowledge and against the will of England, and
has a right to the unmolested enjoyment of her own created wealth.
"I will order," says the speech, "the estimates of the ensuing year
to be laid before you. I rely on your wisdom and public spirit for
such supplies as the circumstances of our affairs shall be found to
require. Among the many ill consequences which attend the
continuation of the present war, I most sincerely regret the
additional burdens which it must unavoidably bring upon my faithful
subjects."
It is strange that a nation must run through such a labyrinth of
trouble, and expend such a mass of wealth to gain the wisdom which an
hour's reflection might have taught. The final superiority of America
over every attempt that an island might make to conquer her, was as
naturally marked in the constitution of things, as the future ability
of a giant over a dwarf is delineated in his features while an
infant. How far providence, to accomplish purposes which no human
wisdom could foresee, permitted such extraordinary errors, is still a
secret in the womb of time, and must remain so till futurity shall
give it birth.
"In the prosecution of this great and important contest," says the
speech, "in which we are engaged, I retain a firm confidence in the
protection of divine providence, and a perfect conviction in the
justice of my cause, and I have no doubt, but, that by the
concurrence and support of my Parliament, by the valour of my fleets
and armies, and by a vigorous, animated, and united exertion of the
faculties and resources of my people, I shall be enabled to restore
the blessings of a safe and honorable peace to all my dominions."
The King of England is one of the readiest believers in the world. In
the beginning of the contest he passed an act to put America out of
the protection of the crown of England, and though providence, for
seven years together, has put him out of her protection, still the
man has no doubt. Like Pharaoh on the edge of the Red Sea, he sees
not the plunge he is making, and precipitately drives across the
flood that is closing over his head.
I think it is a reasonable supposition, that this part of the speech
was composed before the arrival of the news of the capture of
Cornwallis: for it certainly has no relation to their condition at
the time it was spoken. But, be this as it may, it is nothing to us.
Our line is fixed. Our lot is cast; and America, the child of fate,
is arriving at maturity. We have nothing to do but by a spirited and
quick exertion, to stand prepared for war or peace. Too great to
yield, and too noble to insult; superior to misfortune, and generous
in success, let us untaintedly preserve the character which we have
gained, and show to future ages an example of unequalled magnanimity.
There is something in the cause and consequence of America that has
drawn on her the attention of all mankind. The world has seen her
brave. Her love of liberty; her ardour in supporting it; the justice
of her claims, and the constancy of her fortitude have won her the
esteem of Europe, and attached to her interest the first power in
that country.
Her situation now is such, that to whatever point, past, present or
to come, she casts her eyes, new matter rises to convince her that
she is right. In her conduct towards her enemy, no reproachful
sentiment lurks in secret. No sense of injustice is left upon the
mind. Untainted with ambition, and a stranger to revenge, her
progress has been marked by providence, and she, in every stage of
the conflict, has blest her with success.
But let not America wrap herself up in delusive hope and suppose the
business done. The least remissness in preparation, the least
relaxation in execution, will only serve to prolong the war, and
increase expenses. If our enemies can draw consolation from
misfortune, and exert themselves upon despair, how much more ought
we, who are to win a continent by the conquest, and have already an
earnest of success?
Having, in the preceding part, made my remarks on the several matters
which the speech contains, I shall now make my remarks on what it
does not contain.
There is not a syllable in its respecting alliances. Either the
injustice of Britain is too glaring, or her condition too desperate,
or both, for any neighboring power to come to her support. In the
beginning of the contest, when she had only America to contend with,
she hired assistance from Hesse, and other smaller states of Germany,
and for nearly three years did America, young, raw, undisciplined and
unprovided, stand against the power of Britain, aided by twenty
thousand foreign troops, and made a complete conquest of one entire
army. The remembrance of those things ought to inspire us with
confidence and greatness of mind, and carry us through every
remaining difficulty with content and cheerfulness. What are the
little sufferings of the present day, compared with the hardships
that are past? There was a time, when we had neither house nor home
in safety; when every hour was the hour of alarm and danger; when the
mind, tortured with anxiety, knew no repose, and every thing, but
hope and fortitude, was bidding us farewell.
It is of use to look back upon these things; to call to mind the
times of trouble and the scenes of complicated anguish that are past
and gone. Then every expense was cheap, compared with the dread of
conquest and the misery of submission. We did not stand debating upon
trifles, or contending about the necessary and unavoidable charges of
defence. Every one bore his lot of suffering, and looked forward to
happier days, and scenes of rest.
Perhaps one of the greatest dangers which any country can be exposed
to, arises from a kind of trifling which sometimes steals upon the
mind, when it supposes the danger past; and this unsafe situation
marks at this time the peculiar crisis of America. What would she
once have given to have known that her condition at this day should
be what it now is? And yet we do not seem to place a proper value
upon it, nor vigorously pursue the necessary measures to secure it.
We know that we cannot be defended, nor yet defend ourselves, without
trouble and expense. We have no right to expect it; neither ought we
to look for it. We are a people, who, in our situation, differ from
all the world. We form one common floor of public good, and, whatever
is our charge, it is paid for our own interest and upon our own
account.
Misfortune and experience have now taught us system and method; and
the arrangements for carrying on the war are reduced to rule and
order. The quotas of the several states are ascertained, and I intend
in a future publication to show what they are, and the necessity as
well as the advantages of vigorously providing for them.
In the mean time, I shall conclude this paper with an instance of
British clemency, from Smollett's History of England, vol. xi.,
printed in London. It will serve to show how dismal the situation of
a conquered people is, and that the only security is an effectual
defence.
We all know that the Stuart family and the house of Hanover opposed
each other for the crown of England. The Stuart family stood first in
the line of succession, but the other was the most successful.
In July, 1745, Charles, the son of the exiled king, landed in
Scotland, collected a small force, at no time exceeding five or six
thousand men, and made some attempts to re-establish his claim. The
late Duke of Cumberland, uncle to the present King of England, was
sent against him, and on the 16th of April following, Charles was
totally defeated at Culloden, in Scotland. Success and power are the
only situations in which clemency can be shown, and those who are
cruel, because they are victorious, can with the same facility act
any other degenerate character.
"Immediately after the decisive action at Culloden, the Duke of
Cumberland took possession of Inverness; where six and thirty
deserters, convicted by a court martial, were ordered to be executed:
then he detached several parties to ravage the country. One of these
apprehended The Lady Mackintosh, who was sent prisoner to Inverness,
plundered her house, and drove away her cattle, though her husband
was actually in the service of the government. The castle of Lord
Lovat was destroyed. The French prisoners were sent to Carlisle and
Penrith: Kilmarnock, Balmerino, Cromartie, and his son, The Lord
Macleod, were conveyed by sea to London; and those of an inferior
rank were confined in different prisons. The Marquis of Tullibardine,
together with a brother of the Earl of Dunmore, and Murray, the
pretender's secretary, were seized and transported to the Tower of
London, to which the Earl of Traquaire had been committed on
suspicion; and the eldest son of Lord Lovat was imprisoned in the
castle of Edinburgh. In a word, all the jails in Great Britain, from
the capital, northwards, were filled with those unfortunate captives;
and great numbers of them were crowded together in the holds of
ships, where they perished in the most deplorable manner, for want of
air and exercise. Some rebel chiefs escaped in two French frigates
that arrived on the coast of Lochaber about the end of April, and
engaged three vessels belonging to his Britannic majesty, which they
obliged to retire. Others embarked on board a ship on the coast of
Buchan, and were conveyed to Norway, from whence they travelled to
Sweden. In the month of May, the Duke of Cumberland advanced with the
army into the Highlands, as far as Fort Augustus, where he encamped;
and sent off detachments on all hands, to hunt down the fugitives,
and lay waste the country with fire and sword. The castles of
Glengary and Lochiel were plundered and burned; every house, hut, or
habitation, met with the same fate, without distinction; and all the
cattle and provision were carried off; the men were either shot upon
the mountains, like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood,
without form of trial; the women, after having seen their husbands
and fathers murdered, were subjected to brutal violation, and then
turned out naked, with their children, to starve on the barren
heaths. One whole family was enclosed in a barn, and consumed to
ashes. Those ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of
their office, that in a few days there was neither house, cottage,
man, nor beast, to be seen within the compass of fifty miles; all was
ruin, silence, and desolation."
I have here presented the reader with one of the most shocking
instances of cruelty ever practised, and I leave it, to rest on his
mind, that he may be fully impressed with a sense of the destruction
he has escaped, in case Britain had conquered America; and likewise,
that he may see and feel the necessity, as well for his own personal
safety, as for the honor, the interest, and happiness of the whole
community, to omit or delay no one preparation necessary to secure
the ground which we so happily stand upon.
TO THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA
On the expenses, arrangements and disbursements for
carrying on the war, and finishing it with honor
and advantage
WHEN any necessity or occasion has pointed out the convenience of
addressing the public, I have never made it a consideration whether
the subject was popular or unpopular, but whether it was right or
wrong; for that which is right will become popular, and that which is
wrong, though by mistake it may obtain the cry or fashion of the day,
will soon lose the power of delusion, and sink into disesteem.
A remarkable instance of this happened in the case of Silas Deane;
and I mention this circumstance with the greater ease, because the
poison of his hypocrisy spread over the whole country, and every man,
almost without exception, thought me wrong in opposing him. The best
friends I then had, except Mr. [Henry] Laurens, stood at a distance,
and this tribute, which is due to his constancy, I pay to him with
respect, and that the readier, because he is not here to hear it. If
it reaches him in his imprisonment, it will afford him an agreeable
reflection.
"As he rose like a rocket, he would fall like a stick," is a metaphor
which I applied to Mr. Deane, in the first piece which I published
respecting him, and he has exactly fulfilled the description. The
credit he so unjustly obtained from the public, he lost in almost as
short a time. The delusion perished as it fell, and he soon saw
himself stripped of popular support. His more intimate acquaintances
began to doubt, and to desert him long before he left America, and at
his departure, he saw himself the object of general suspicion. When
he arrived in France, he endeavored to effect by treason what he had
failed to accomplish by fraud. His plans, schemes and projects,
together with his expectation of being sent to Holland to negotiate a
loan of money, had all miscarried. He then began traducing and
accusing America of every crime, which could injure her reputation.
"That she was a ruined country; that she only meant to make a tool of
France, to get what money she could out of her, and then to leave her
and accommodate with Britain." Of all which and much more, Colonel
Laurens and myself, when in France, informed Dr. Franklin, who had
not before heard of it. And to complete the character of traitor, he
has, by letters to his country since, some of which, in his own
handwriting, are now in the possession of Congress, used every
expression and argument in his power, to injure the reputation of
France, and to advise America to renounce her alliance, and surrender
up her independence.* Thus in France he abuses America, and in his
letters to America he abuses France; and is endeavoring to create
disunion between two countries, by the same arts of double-dealing by
which he caused dissensions among the commissioners in Paris, and
distractions in America. But his life has been fraud, and his
character has been that of a plodding, plotting, cringing mercenary,
capable of any disguise that suited his purpose. His final detection
has very happily cleared up those mistakes, and removed that
uneasiness, which his unprincipled conduct occasioned. Every one now
sees him in the same light; for towards friends or enemies he acted
with the same deception and injustice, and his name, like that of
Arnold, ought now to be forgotten among us. As this is the first time
that I have mentioned him since my return from France, it is my
intention that it shall be the last. From this digression, which for
several reasons I thought necessary to give, I now proceed to the
purport of my address.
* Mr. William Marshall, of this city [Philadelphia], formerly a
pilot, who had been taken at sea and carried to England, and got from
thence to France, brought over letters from Mr. Deane to America, one
of which was directed to "Robert Morris, Esq." Mr. Morris sent it
unopened to Congress, and advised Mr. Marshall to deliver the others
there, which he did. The letters were of the same purport with those
which have been already published under the signature of S. Deane, to
which they had frequent reference.
I consider the war of America against Britain as the country's war,
the public's war, or the war of the people in their own behalf, for
the security of their natural rights, and the protection of their own
property. It is not the war of Congress, the war of the assemblies,
or the war of government in any line whatever. The country first, by
mutual compact, resolved to defend their rights and maintain their
independence, at the hazard of their lives and fortunes; they elected
their representatives, by whom they appointed their members of
Congress, and said, act you for us, and we will support you. This is
the true ground and principle of the war on the part of America, and,
consequently, there remains nothing to do, but for every one to
fulfil his obligation.
It was next to impossible that a new country, engaged in a new
undertaking, could set off systematically right at first. She saw not
the extent of the struggle that she was involved in, neither could
she avoid the beginning. She supposed every step that she took, and
every resolution which she formed, would bring her enemy to reason
and close the contest. Those failing, she was forced into new
measures; and these, like the former, being fitted to her
expectations, and failing in their turn, left her continually
unprovided, and without system. The enemy, likewise, was induced to
prosecute the war, from the temporary expedients we adopted for
carrying it on. We were continually expecting to see their credit
exhausted, and they were looking to see our currency fail; and thus,
between their watching us, and we them, the hopes of both have been
deceived, and the childishness of the expectation has served to
increase the expense.
Yet who, through this wilderness of error, has been to blame? Where
is the man who can say the fault, in part, has not been his? They
were the natural, unavoidable errors of the day. They were the errors
of a whole country, which nothing but experience could detect and
time remove. Neither could the circumstances of America admit of
system, till either the paper currency was fixed or laid aside. No
calculation of a finance could be made on a medium failing without
reason, and fluctuating without rule.
But there is one error which might have been prevented and was not;
and as it is not my custom to flatter, but to serve mankind, I will
speak it freely. It certainly was the duty of every assembly on the
continent to have known, at all times, what was the condition of its
treasury, and to have ascertained at every period of depreciation,
how much the real worth of the taxes fell short of their nominal
value. This knowledge, which might have been easily gained, in the
time of it, would have enabled them to have kept their constituents
well informed, and this is one of the greatest duties of
representation. They ought to have studied and calculated the
expenses of the war, the quota of each state, and the consequent
proportion that would fall on each man's property for his defence;
and this must have easily shown to them, that a tax of one hundred
pounds could not be paid by a bushel of apples or an hundred of
flour, which was often the case two or three years ago. But instead
of this, which would have been plain and upright dealing, the little
line of temporary popularity, the feather of an hour's duration, was
too much pursued; and in this involved condition of things, every
state, for the want of a little thinking, or a little information,
supposed that it supported the whole expenses of the war, when in
fact it fell, by the time the tax was levied and collected, above
three-fourths short of its own quota.
Impressed with a sense of the danger to which the country was exposed
by this lax method of doing business, and the prevailing errors of
the day, I published, last October was a twelvemonth, the Crisis
Extraordinary, on the revenues of America, and the yearly expense of
carrying on the war. My estimation of the latter, together with the
civil list of Congress, and the civil list of the several states, was
two million pounds sterling, which is very nearly nine millions of
dollars.
Since that time, Congress have gone into a calculation, and have
estimated the expenses of the War Department and the civil list of
Congress (exclusive of the civil list of the several governments) at
eight millions of dollars; and as the remaining million will be fully
sufficient for the civil list of the several states, the two
calculations are exceedingly near each other.
The sum of eight millions of dollars have called upon the states to
furnish, and their quotas are as follows, which I shall preface with
the resolution itself.
"By the United States in Congress assembled.
"October 30, 1781.
"Resolved, That the respective states be called upon to furnish the
treasury of the United States with their quotas of eight millions of
dollars, for the War Department and civil list for the ensuing year,
to be paid quarterly, in equal proportions, the first payment to be
made on the first day of April next.
"Resolved, That a committee, consisting of a member from each state,
be appointed to apportion to the several states the quota of the
above sum.
"November 2d. The committee appointed to ascertain the proportions of
the several states of the monies to be raised for the expenses of the
ensuing year, report the following resolutions:
"That the sum of eight millions of dollars, as required to be raised
by the resolutions of the 30th of October last, be paid by the states
in the following proportion:
New Hampshire....... $ 373,598
Massachusetts....... 1,307,596
Rhode Island........ 216,684
Connecticut......... 747,196
New York............ 373,598
New Jersey.......... 485,679
Pennsylvania........ 1,120,794
Delaware............ 112,085
Maryland............ 933,996
Virginia............ 1,307,594
North Carolina...... 622,677
South Carolina...... 373,598
Georgia............. 24,905
$8,000,000
"Resolved, That it be recommended to the several states, to lay taxes
for raising their quotas of money for the United States, separate
from those laid for their own particular use."
On these resolutions I shall offer several remarks.
1st, On the sum itself, and the ability of the country.
2d, On the several quotas, and the nature of a union. And,
3d, On the manner of collection and expenditure.
1st, On the sum itself, and the ability of the country. As I know my
own calculation is as low as possible, and as the sum called for by
congress, according to their calculation, agrees very nearly
therewith, I am sensible it cannot possibly be lower. Neither can it
be done for that, unless there is ready money to go to market with;
and even in that case, it is only by the utmost management and
economy that it can be made to do.
By the accounts which were laid before the British Parliament last
spring, it appeared that the charge of only subsisting, that is,
feeding their army in America, cost annually four million pounds
sterling, which is very nearly eighteen millions of dollars. Now if,
for eight millions, we can feed, clothe, arm, provide for, and pay an
army sufficient for our defence, the very comparison shows that the
money must be well laid out.
It may be of some use, either in debate or conversation, to attend to
the progress of the expenses of an army, because it will enable us to
see on what part any deficiency will fall.
The first thing is, to feed them and prepare for the sick.
_Second_, to clothe them.
_Third_, to arm and furnish them.
_Fourth_, to provide means for removing them from place to place. And,
_Fifth_, to pay them.
The first and second are absolutely necessary to them as men. The
third and fourth are equally as necessary to them as an army. And the
fifth is their just due. Now if the sum which shall be raised should
fall short, either by the several acts of the states for raising it,
or by the manner of collecting it, the deficiency will fall on the
fifth head, the soldiers' pay, which would be defrauding them, and
eternally disgracing ourselves. It would be a blot on the councils,
the country, and the revolution of America, and a man would hereafter
be ashamed to own that he had any hand in it.
But if the deficiency should be still shorter, it would next fall on
the fourth head, the means of removing the army from place to place;
and, in this case, the army must either stand still where it can be
of no use, or seize on horses, carts, wagons, or any means of
transportation which it can lay hold of; and in this instance the
country suffers. In short, every attempt to do a thing for less than
it can he done for, is sure to become at last both a loss and a
dishonor.
But the country cannot bear it, say some. This has been the most
expensive doctrine that ever was held out, and cost America millions
of money for nothing. Can the country bear to be overrun, ravaged,
and ruined by an enemy? This will immediately follow where defence is
wanting, and defence will ever be wanting, where sufficient revenues
are not provided. But this is only one part of the folly. The second
is, that when the danger comes, invited in part by our not preparing
against it, we have been obliged, in a number of instances, to expend
double the sums to do that which at first might have been done for
half the money. But this is not all. A third mischief has been, that
grain of all sorts, flour, beef fodder, horses, carts, wagons, or
whatever was absolutely or immediately wanted, have been taken
without pay. Now, I ask, why was all this done, but from that
extremely weak and expensive doctrine, that the country could not
bear it? That is, that she could not bear, in the first instance,
that which would have saved her twice as much at last; or, in
proverbial language, that she could not bear to pay a penny to save a
pound; the consequence of which has been, that she has paid a pound
for a penny. Why are there so many unpaid certificates in almost
every man's hands, but from the parsimony of not providing sufficient
revenues? Besides, the doctrine contradicts itself; because, if the
whole country cannot bear it, how is it possible that a part should?
And yet this has been the case: for those things have been had; and
they must be had; but the misfortune is, that they have been obtained
in a very unequal manner, and upon expensive credit, whereas, with
ready money, they might have been purchased for half the price, and
nobody distressed.
But there is another thought which ought to strike us, which is, how
is the army to bear the want of food, clothing and other necessaries?
The man who is at home, can turn himself a thousand ways, and find as
many means of ease, convenience or relief: but a soldier's life
admits of none of those: their wants cannot be supplied from
themselves: for an army, though it is the defence of a state, is at
the same time the child of a country, or must be provided for in
every thing.
And lastly, the doctrine is false. There are not three millions of
people in any part of the universe, who live so well, or have such a
fund of ability, as in America. The income of a common laborer, who
is industrious, is equal to that of the generality of tradesmen in
England. In the mercantile line, I have not heard of one who could be
said to be a bankrupt since the war began, and in England they have
been without number. In America almost every farmer lives on his own
lands, and in England not one in a hundred does. In short, it seems
as if the poverty of that country had made them furious, and they
were determined to risk all to recover all.
Yet, notwithstanding those advantages on the part of America, true it
is, that had it not been for the operation of taxes for our necessary
defence, we had sunk into a state of sloth and poverty: for there was
more wealth lost by neglecting to till the earth in the years 1776,
'77, and '78, than the quota of taxes amounts to. That which is lost
by neglect of this kind, is lost for ever: whereas that which is
paid, and continues in the country, returns to us again; and at the
same time that it provides us with defence, it operates not only as a
spur, but as a premium to our industry.
I shall now proceed to the second head, viz., on the several quotas,
and the nature of a union.
There was a time when America had no other bond of union, than that
of common interest and affection. The whole country flew to the
relief of Boston, and, making her cause, their own, participated in
her cares and administered to her wants. The fate of war, since that
day, has carried the calamity in a ten-fold proportion to the
southward; but in the mean time the union has been strengthened by a
legal compact of the states, jointly and severally ratified, and that
which before was choice, or the duty of affection, is now likewise
the duty of legal obligation.
The union of America is the foundation-stone of her independence; the
rock on which it is built; and is something so sacred in her
constitution, that we ought to watch every word we speak, and every
thought we think, that we injure it not, even by mistake. When a
multitude, extended, or rather scattered, over a continent in the
manner we were, mutually agree to form one common centre whereon the
whole shall move to accomplish a particular purpose, all parts must
act together and alike, or act not at all, and a stoppage in any one
is a stoppage of the whole, at least for a time.
Thus the several states have sent representatives to assemble
together in Congress, and they have empowered that body, which thus
becomes their centre, and are no other than themselves in
representation, to conduct and manage the war, while their
constituents at home attend to the domestic cares of the country,
their internal legislation, their farms, professions or employments,
for it is only by reducing complicated things to method and orderly
connection that they can be understood with advantage, or pursued
with success. Congress, by virtue of this delegation, estimates the
expense, and apportions it out to the several parts of the empire
according to their several abilities; and here the debate must end,
because each state has already had its voice, and the matter has
undergone its whole portion of argument, and can no more be altered
by any particular state, than a law of any state, after it has
passed, can be altered by any individual. For with respect to those
things which immediately concern the union, and for which the union
was purposely established, and is intended to secure, each state is
to the United States what each individual is to the state he lives
in. And it is on this grand point, this movement upon one centre,
that our existence as a nation, our happiness as a people, and our
safety as individuals, depend.
It may happen that some state or other may be somewhat over or under
rated, but this cannot be much. The experience which has been had
upon the matter, has nearly ascertained their several abilities. But
even in this case, it can only admit of an appeal to the United
States, but cannot authorise any state to make the alteration itself,
any more than our internal government can admit an individual to do
so in the case of an act of assembly; for if one state can do it,
then may another do the same, and the instant this is done the whole
is undone.
Neither is it supposable that any single state can be a judge of all
the comparative reasons which may influence the collective body in
arranging the quotas of the continent. The circumstances of the
several states are frequently varying, occasioned by the accidents of
war and commerce, and it will often fall upon some to help others,
rather beyond what their exact proportion at another time might be;
but even this assistance is as naturally and politically included in
the idea of a union as that of any particular assigned proportion;
because we know not whose turn it may be next to want assistance, for
which reason that state is the wisest which sets the best example.
Though in matters of bounden duty and reciprocal affection, it is
rather a degeneracy from the honesty and ardor of the heart to admit
any thing selfish to partake in the government of our conduct, yet in
cases where our duty, our affections, and our interest all coincide,
it may be of some use to observe their union. The United States will
become heir to an extensive quantity of vacant land, and their
several titles to shares and quotas thereof, will naturally be
adjusted according to their relative quotas, during the war,
exclusive of that inability which may unfortunately arise to any
state by the enemy's holding possession of a part; but as this is a
cold matter of interest, I pass it by, and proceed to my third head,
viz., on the manner of collection and expenditure.
It has been our error, as well as our misfortune, to blend the
affairs of each state, especially in money matters, with those of the
United States; whereas it is our case, convenience and interest, to
keep them separate. The expenses of the United States for carrying on
the war, and the expenses of each state for its own domestic
government, are distinct things, and to involve them is a source of
perplexity and a cloak for fraud. I love method, because I see and am
convinced of its beauty and advantage. It is that which makes all
business easy and understood, and without which, everything becomes
embarrassed and difficult.
There are certain powers which the people of each state have
delegated to their legislative and executive bodies, and there are
other powers which the people of every state have delegated to
Congress, among which is that of conducting the war, and,
consequently, of managing the expenses attending it; for how else can
that be managed, which concerns every state, but by a delegation from
each? When a state has furnished its quota, it has an undoubted right
to know how it has been applied, and it is as much the duty of
Congress to inform the state of the one, as it is the duty of the
state to provide the other.
In the resolution of Congress already recited, it is recommended to
the several states to lay taxes for raising their quotas of money for
the United States, separate from those laid for their own particular
use.
This is a most necessary point to be observed, and the distinction
should follow all the way through. They should be levied, paid and
collected, separately, and kept separate in every instance. Neither
have the civil officers of any state, nor the government of that
state, the least right to touch that money which the people pay for
the support of their army and the war, any more than Congress has to
touch that which each state raises for its own use.
This distinction will naturally be followed by another. It will
occasion every state to examine nicely into the expenses of its civil
list, and to regulate, reduce, and bring it into better order than it
has hitherto been; because the money for that purpose must be raised
apart, and accounted for to the public separately. But while the,
monies of both were blended, the necessary nicety was not observed,
and the poor soldier, who ought to have been the first, was the last
who was thought of.
Another convenience will be, that the people, by paying the taxes
separately, will know what they are for; and will likewise know that
those which are for the defence of the country will cease with the
war, or soon after. For although, as I have before observed, the war
is their own, and for the support of their own rights and the
protection of their own property, yet they have the same right to
know, that they have to pay, and it is the want of not knowing that
is often the cause of dissatisfaction.
This regulation of keeping the taxes separate has given rise to a
regulation in the office of finance, by which it is directed:
"That the receivers shall, at the end of every month, make out an
exact account of the monies received by them respectively, during
such month, specifying therein the names of the persons from whom the
same shall have been received, the dates and the sums; which account
they shall respectively cause to be published in one of the
newspapers of the state; to the end that every citizen may know how
much of the monies collected from him, in taxes, is transmitted to
the treasury of the United States for the support of the war; and
also, that it may be known what monies have been at the order of the
superintendent of finance. It being proper and necessary, that, in a
free country, the people should be as fully informed of the
administration of their affairs as the nature of things will admit."
It is an agreeable thing to see a spirit of order and economy taking
place, after such a series of errors and difficulties. A government
or an administration, who means and acts honestly, has nothing to
fear, and consequently has nothing to conceal; and it would be of use
if a monthly or quarterly account was to be published, as well of the
expenditures as of the receipts. Eight millions of dollars must be
husbanded with an exceeding deal of care to make it do, and,
therefore, as the management must be reputable, the publication would
be serviceable.
I have heard of petitions which have been presented to the assembly
of this state (and probably the same may have happened in other
states) praying to have the taxes lowered. Now the only way to keep
taxes low is, for the United States to have ready money to go to
market with: and though the taxes to be raised for the present year
will fall heavy, and there will naturally be some difficulty in
paying them, yet the difficulty, in proportion as money spreads about
the country, will every day grow less, and in the end we shall save
some millions of dollars by it. We see what a bitter, revengeful
enemy we have to deal with, and any expense is cheap compared to
their merciless paw. We have seen the unfortunate Carolineans hunted
like partridges on the mountains, and it is only by providing means
for our defence, that we shall be kept from the same condition. When
we think or talk about taxes, we ought to recollect that we lie down
in peace and sleep in safety; that we can follow our farms or stores
or other occupations, in prosperous tranquillity; and that these
inestimable blessings are procured to us by the taxes that we pay. In
this view, our taxes are properly our insurance money; they are what
we pay to be made safe, and, in strict policy, are the best money we
can lay out.
It was my intention to offer some remarks on the impost law of five
per cent. recommended by Congress, and to be established as a fund
for the payment of the loan-office certificates, and other debts of
the United States; but I have already extended my piece beyond my
intention. And as this fund will make our system of finance complete,
and is strictly just, and consequently requires nothing but honesty
to do it, there needs but little to be said upon it.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, March 5, 1782.
THE CRISIS.
XI.
ON THE PRESENT STATE OF NEWS.
SINCE the arrival of two, if not three packets in quick succession,
at New York, from England, a variety of unconnected news has
circulated through the country, and afforded as great a variety of
speculation.
That something is the matter in the cabinet and councils of our
enemies, on the other side of the water, is certain- that they have
run their length of madness, and are under the necessity of changing
their measures may easily be seen into; but to what this change of
measures may amount, or how far it may correspond with our interest,
happiness and duty, is yet uncertain; and from what we have hitherto
experienced, we have too much reason to suspect them in every thing.
I do not address this publication so much to the people of America as
to the British ministry, whoever they may be, for if it is their
intention to promote any kind of negotiation, it is proper they
should know beforehand, that the United States have as much honor as
bravery; and that they are no more to be seduced from their alliance
than their allegiance; that their line of politics is formed and not
dependent, like that of their enemy, on chance and accident.
On our part, in order to know, at any time, what the British
government will do, we have only to find out what they ought not to
do, and this last will be their conduct. Forever changing and forever
wrong; too distant from America to improve in circumstances, and too
unwise to foresee them; scheming without principle, and executing
without probability, their whole line of management has hitherto been
blunder and baseness. Every campaign has added to their loss, and
every year to their disgrace; till unable to go on, and ashamed to go
back, their politics have come to a halt, and all their fine
prospects to a halter.
Could our affections forgive, or humanity forget the wounds of an
injured country- we might, under the influence of a momentary
oblivion, stand still and laugh. But they are engraven where no
amusement can conceal them, and of a kind for which there is no
recompense. Can ye restore to us the beloved dead? Can ye say to the
grave, give up the murdered? Can ye obliterate from our memories
those who are no more? Think not then to tamper with our feelings by
an insidious contrivance, nor suffocate our humanity by seducing us
to dishonor.
In March 1780, I published part of the Crisis, No. VIII., in the
newspapers, but did not conclude it in the following papers, and the
remainder has lain by me till the present day.
There appeared about that time some disposition in the British
cabinet to cease the further prosecution of the war, and as I had
formed my opinion that whenever such a design should take place, it
would be accompanied by a dishonorable proposition to America,
respecting France, I had suppressed the remainder of that number, not
to expose the baseness of any such proposition. But the arrival of
the next news from England, declared her determination to go on with
the war, and consequently as the political object I had then in view
was not become a subject, it was unnecessary in me to bring it
forward, which is the reason it was never published.
The matter which I allude to in the unpublished part, I shall now
make a quotation of, and apply it as the more enlarged state of
things, at this day, shall make convenient or necessary. It was as
follows:
"By the speeches which have appeared from the British Parliament, it
is easy to perceive to what impolitic and imprudent excesses their
passions and prejudices have, in every instance, carried them during
the present war. Provoked at the upright and honorable treaty between
America and France, they imagined that nothing more was necessary to
be done to prevent its final ratification, than to promise, through
the agency of their commissioners (Carlisle, Eden, and Johnstone) a
repeal of their once offensive acts of Parliament. The vanity of the
conceit, was as unpardonable as the experiment was impolitic. And so
convinced am I of their wrong ideas of America, that I shall not
wonder, if, in their last stage of political frenzy, they propose to
her to break her alliance with France, and enter into one with them.
Such a proposition, should it ever be made, and it has been already
more than once hinted at in Parliament, would discover such a
disposition to perfidiousness, and such disregard of honor and
morals, as would add the finishing vice to national corruption.- I do
not mention this to put America on the watch, but to put England on
her guard, that she do not, in the looseness of her heart, envelop in
disgrace every fragment of reputation."- Thus far the quotation.
By the complection of some part of the news which has transpired
through the New York papers, it seems probable that this insidious
era in the British politics is beginning to make its appearance. I
wish it may not; for that which is a disgrace to human nature, throws
something of a shade over all the human character, and each
individual feels his share of the wound that is given to the whole.
The policy of Britain has ever been to divide America in some way or
other. In the beginning of the dispute, she practised every art to
prevent or destroy the union of the states, well knowing that could
she once get them to stand singly, she could conquer them
unconditionally. Failing in this project in America, she renewed it
in Europe; and, after the alliance had taken place, she made secret
offers to France to induce her to give up America; and what is still
more extraordinary, she at the same time made propositions to Dr.
Franklin, then in Paris, the very court to which she was secretly
applying, to draw off America from France. But this is not all.
On the 14th of September, 1778, the British court, through their
secretary, Lord Weymouth, made application to the Marquis
d'Almadovar, the Spanish ambassador at London, to "ask the
mediation," for these were the words, of the court of Spain, for the
purpose of negotiating a peace with France, leaving America (as I
shall hereafter show) out of the question. Spain readily offered her
mediation, and likewise the city of Madrid as the place of
conference, but withal, proposed, that the United States of America
should be invited to the treaty, and considered as independent during
the time the business was negotiating. But this was not the view of
England. She wanted to draw France from the war, that she might
uninterruptedly pour out all her force and fury upon America; and
being disappointed in this plan, as well through the open and
generous conduct of Spain, as the determination of France, she
refused the mediation which she had solicited.
I shall now give some extracts from the justifying memorial of the
Spanish court, in which she has set the conduct and character of
Britain, with respect to America, in a clear and striking point of
light.
The memorial, speaking of the refusal of the British court to meet in
conference with commissioners from the United States, who were to be
considered as independent during the time of the conference, says,
"It is a thing very extraordinary and even ridiculous, that the court
of London, who treats the colonies as independent, not only in
acting, but of right, during the war, should have a repugnance to
treat them as such only in acting during a truce, or suspension of
hostilities. The convention of Saratoga; the reputing General
Burgoyne as a lawful prisoner, in order to suspend his trial; the
exchange and liberation of other prisoners made from the colonies;
the having named commissioners to go and supplicate the Americans, at
their own doors, request peace of them, and treat with them and the
Congress: and, finally, by a thousand other acts of this sort,
authorized by the court of London, which have been, and are true
signs of the acknowledgment of their independence.
"In aggravation of all the foregoing, at the same time the British
cabinet answered the King of Spain in the terms already mentioned,
they were insinuating themselves at the court of France by means of
secret emissaries, and making very great offers to her, to abandon
the colonies and make peace with England. But there is yet more; for
at this same time the English ministry were treating, by means of
another certain emissary, with Dr. Franklin, minister plenipotentiary
from the colonies, residing at Paris, to whom they made various
proposals to disunite them from France, and accommodate matters with
England.
"From what has been observed, it evidently follows, that the whole of
the British politics was, to disunite the two courts of Paris and
Madrid, by means of the suggestions and offers which she separately
made to them; and also to separate the colonies from their treaties
and engagements entered into with France, and induce them to arm
against the house of Bourbon, or more probably to oppress them when
they found, from breaking their engagements, that they stood alone
and without protection.
"This, therefore, is the net they laid for the American states; that
is to say, to tempt them with flattering and very magnificent
promises to come to an accommodation with them, exclusive of any
intervention of Spain or France, that the British ministry might
always remain the arbiters of the fate of the colonies.
"But the Catholic king (the King of Spain) faithful on the one part
of the engagements which bind him to the Most Christian king (the
King of France) his nephew; just and upright on the other, to his own
subjects, whom he ought to protect and guard against so many insults;
and finally, full of humanity and compassion for the Americans and
other individuals who suffer in the present war; he is determined to
pursue and prosecute it, and to make all the efforts in his power,
until he can obtain a solid and permanent peace, with full and
satisfactory securities that it shall be observed."
Thus far the memorial; a translation of which into English, may be
seen in full, under the head of State Papers, in the Annual Register,
for 1779.
The extracts I have here given, serve to show the various endeavors
and contrivances of the enemy, to draw France from her connection
with America, and to prevail on her to make a separate peace with
England, leaving America totally out of the question, and at the
mercy of a merciless, unprincipled enemy. The opinion, likewise,
which Spain has formed of the British cabinet's character for
meanness and perfidiousness, is so exactly the opinion of America
respecting it, that the memorial, in this instance, contains our own
statements and language; for people, however remote, who think alike,
will unavoidably speak alike.
Thus we see the insidious use which Britain endeavored to make of the
propositions of peace under the mediation of Spain. I shall now
proceed to the second proposition under the mediation of the Emperor
of Germany and the Empress of Russia; the general outline of which
was, that a congress of the several powers at war should meet at
Vienna, in 1781, to settle preliminaries of peace.
I could wish myself at liberty to make use of all the information
which I am possessed of on this subject, but as there is a delicacy
in the matter, I do not conceive it prudent, at least at present, to
make references and quotations in the same manner as I have done with
respect to the mediation of Spain, who published the whole
proceedings herself; and therefore, what comes from me, on this part
of the business, must rest on my own credit with the public, assuring
them, that when the whole proceedings, relative to the proposed
Congress of Vienna shall appear, they will find my account not only
true, but studiously moderate.
We know at the time this mediation was on the carpet, the expectation
of the British king and ministry ran high with respect to the
conquest of America. The English packet which was taken with the mail
on board, and carried into l'Orient, in France, contained letters
from Lord G. Germaine to Sir Henry Clinton, which expressed in the
fullest terms the ministerial idea of a total conquest. Copies of
those letters were sent to congress and published in the newspapers
of last year. Colonel [John] Laurens brought over the originals, some
of which, signed in the handwriting of the then secretary, Germaine,
are now in my possession.
Filled with these high ideas, nothing could be more insolent towards
America than the language of the British court on the proposed
mediation. A peace with France and Spain she anxiously solicited; but
America, as before, was to be left to her mercy, neither would she
hear any proposition for admitting an agent from the United States
into the congress of Vienna.
On the other hand, France, with an open, noble and manly
determination, and a fidelity of a good ally, would hear no
proposition for a separate peace, nor even meet in congress at
Vienna, without an agent from America: and likewise that the
independent character of the United States, represented by the agent,
should be fully and unequivocally defined and settled before any
conference should be entered on. The reasoning of the court of France
on the several propositions of the two imperial courts, which relate
to us, is rather in the style of an American than an ally, and she
advocated the cause of America as if she had been America herself.-
Thus the second mediation, like the first, proved ineffectual.
But since that time, a reverse of fortune has overtaken the British
arms, and all their high expectations are dashed to the ground. The
noble exertions to the southward under General [Nathaniel] Greene;
the successful operations of the allied arms in the Chesapeake; the
loss of most of their islands in the West Indies, and Minorca in the
Mediterranean; the persevering spirit of Spain against Gibraltar; the
expected capture of Jamaica; the failure of making a separate peace
with Holland, and the expense of an hundred millions sterling, by
which all these fine losses were obtained, have read them a loud
lesson of disgraceful misfortune and necessity has called on them to
change their ground.
In this situation of confusion and despair, their present councils
have no fixed character. It is now the hurricane months of British
politics. Every day seems to have a storm of its own, and they are
scudding under the bare poles of hope. Beaten, but not humble;
condemned, but not penitent; they act like men trembling at fate and
catching at a straw. From this convulsion, in the entrails of their
politics, it is more than probable, that the mountain groaning in
labor, will bring forth a mouse, as to its size, and a monster in its
make. They will try on America the same insidious arts they tried on
France and Spain.
We sometimes experience sensations to which language is not equal.
The conception is too bulky to be born alive, and in the torture of
thinking, we stand dumb. Our feelings, imprisoned by their magnitude,
find no way out- and, in the struggle of expression, every finger
tries to be a tongue. The machinery of the body seems too little for
the mind, and we look about for helps to show our thoughts by. Such
must be the sensation of America, whenever Britain, teeming with
corruption, shall propose to her to sacrifice her faith.
But, exclusive of the wickedness, there is a personal offence
contained in every such attempt. It is calling us villains: for no
man asks the other to act the villain unless he believes him inclined
to be one. No man attempts to seduce the truly honest woman. It is
the supposed looseness of her mind that starts the thoughts of
seduction, and he who offers it calls her a prostitute. Our pride is
always hurt by the same propositions which offend our principles; for
when we are shocked at the crime, we are wounded by the suspicion of
our compliance.
Could I convey a thought that might serve to regulate the public
mind, I would not make the interest of the alliance the basis of
defending it. All the world are moved by interest, and it affords
them nothing to boast of. But I would go a step higher, and defend it
on the ground of honor and principle. That our public affairs have
flourished under the alliance- that it was wisely made, and has been
nobly executed- that by its assistance we are enabled to preserve our
country from conquest, and expel those who sought our destruction-
that it is our true interest to maintain it unimpaired, and that
while we do so no enemy can conquer us, are matters which experience
has taught us, and the common good of ourselves, abstracted from
principles of faith and honor, would lead us to maintain the
connection.
But over and above the mere letter of the alliance, we have been
nobly and generously treated, and have had the same respect and
attention paid to us, as if we had been an old established country.
To oblige and be obliged is fair work among mankind, and we want an
opportunity of showing to the world that we are a people sensible of
kindness and worthy of confidence. Character is to us, in our present
circumstances, of more importance than interest. We are a young
nation, just stepping upon the stage of public life, and the eye of
the world is upon us to see how we act. We have an enemy who is
watching to destroy our reputation, and who will go any length to
gain some evidence against us, that may serve to render our conduct
suspected, and our character odious; because, could she accomplish
this, wicked as it is, the world would withdraw from us, as from a
people not to be trusted, and our task would then become difficult.
There is nothing which sets the character of a nation in a higher or
lower light with others, than the faithfully fulfilling, or
perfidiously breaking, of treaties. They are things not to be
tampered with: and should Britain, which seems very probable, propose
to seduce America into such an act of baseness, it would merit from
her some mark of unusual detestation. It is one of those
extraordinary instances in which we ought not to be contented with
the bare negative of Congress, because it is an affront on the
multitude as well as on the government. It goes on the supposition
that the public are not honest men, and that they may be managed by
contrivance, though they cannot be conquered by arms. But, let the
world and Britain know, that we are neither to be bought nor sold;
that our mind is great and fixed; our prospect clear; and that we
will support our character as firmly as our independence.
But I will go still further; General Conway, who made the motion, in
the British Parliament, for discontinuing offensive war in America,
is a gentleman of an amiable character. We have no personal quarrel
with him. But he feels not as we feel; he is not in our situation,
and that alone, without any other explanation, is enough.
The British Parliament suppose they have many friends in America, and
that, when all chance of conquest is over, they will be able to draw
her from her alliance with France. Now, if I have any conception of
the human heart, they will fail in this more than in any thing that
they have yet tried.
This part of the business is not a question of policy only, but of
honor and honesty; and the proposition will have in it something so
visibly low and base, that their partisans, if they have any, will be
ashamed of it. Men are often hurt by a mean action who are not
startled at a wicked one, and this will be such a confession of
inability, such a declaration of servile thinking, that the scandal
of it will ruin all their hopes.
In short, we have nothing to do but to go on with vigor and
determination. The enemy is yet in our country. They hold New York,
Charleston, and Savannah, and the very being in those places is an
offence, and a part of offensive war, and until they can be driven
from them, or captured in them, it would be folly in us to listen to
an idle tale. I take it for granted that the British ministry are
sinking under the impossibility of carrying on the war. Let them then
come to a fair and open peace with France, Spain, Holland and
America, in the manner they ought to do; but until then, we can have
nothing to say to them.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, May 22, 1782.
A SUPERNUMERARY CRISIS
TO SIR GUY CARLETON.
IT is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune; and I
address this to you in behalf even of an enemy, a captain in the
British service, now on his way to the headquarters of the American
army, and unfortunately doomed to death for a crime not his own. A
sentence so extraordinary, an execution so repugnant to every human
sensation, ought never to be told without the circumstances which
produced it: and as the destined victim is yet in existence, and in
your hands rests his life or death, I shall briefly state the case,
and the melancholy consequence.
Captain Huddy, of the Jersey militia, was attacked in a small fort on
Tom's River, by a party of refugees in the British pay and service,
was made prisoner, together with his company, carried to New York and
lodged in the provost of that city: about three weeks after which, he
was taken out of the provost down to the water-side, put into a boat,
and brought again upon the Jersey shore, and there, contrary to the
practice of all nations but savages, was hung up on a tree, and left
hanging till found by our people who took him down and buried him.
The inhabitants of that part of the country where the murder was
committed, sent a deputation to General Washington with a full and
certified statement of the fact. Struck, as every human breast must
be, with such brutish outrage, and determined both to punish and
prevent it for the future, the General represented the case to
General Clinton, who then commanded, and demanded that the refugee
officer who ordered and attended the execution, and whose name is
Lippencott, should be delivered up as a murderer; and in case of
refusal, that the person of some British officer should suffer in his
stead. The demand, though not refused, has not been complied with;
and the melancholy lot (not by selection, but by casting lots) has
fallen upon Captain Asgill, of the Guards, who, as I have already
mentioned, is on his way from Lancaster to camp, a martyr to the
general wickedness of the cause he engaged in, and the ingratitude of
those whom he served.
The first reflection which arises on this black business is, what
sort of men must Englishmen be, and what sort of order and discipline
do they preserve in their army, when in the immediate place of their
headquarters, and under the eye and nose of their commander-in-chief,
a prisoner can be taken at pleasure from his confinement, and his
death made a matter of sport.
The history of the most savage Indians does not produce instances
exactly of this kind. They, at least, have a formality in their
punishments. With them it is the horridness of revenge, but with your
army it is a still greater crime, the horridness of diversion.
The British generals who have succeeded each other, from the time of
General Gage to yourself, have all affected to speak in language that
they have no right to. In their proclamations, their addresses, their
letters to General Washington, and their supplications to Congress
(for they deserve no other name) they talk of British honor, British
generosity, and British clemency, as if those things were matters of
fact; whereas, we whose eyes are open, who speak the same language
with yourselves, many of whom were born on the same spot with you,
and who can no more be mistaken in your words than in your actions,
can declare to all the world, that so far as our knowledge goes,
there is not a more detestable character, nor a meaner or more
barbarous enemy, than the present British one. With us, you have
forfeited all pretensions to reputation, and it is only by holding
you like a wild beast, afraid of your keepers, that you can be made
manageable. But to return to the point in question.
Though I can think no man innocent who has lent his hand to destroy
the country which he did not plant, and to ruin those that he could
not enslave, yet, abstracted from all ideas of right and wrong on the
original question, Captain Asgill, in the present case, is not the
guilty man. The villain and the victim are here separated characters.
You hold the one and we the other. You disown, or affect to disown
and reprobate the conduct of Lippincut, yet you give him a sanctuary;
and by so doing you as effectually become the executioner of Asgill,
as if you had put the rope on his neck, and dismissed him from the
world. Whatever your feelings on this interesting occasion may be are
best known to yourself. Within the grave of your own mind lies buried
the fate of Asgill. He becomes the corpse of your will, or the
survivor of your justice. Deliver up the one, and you save the other;
withhold the one, and the other dies by your choice.
On our part the case is exceeding plain; an officer has been taken
from his confinement and murdered, and the murderer is within your
lines. Your army has been guilty of a thousand instances of equal
cruelty, but they have been rendered equivocal, and sheltered from
personal detection. Here the crime is fixed; and is one of those
extraordinary cases which can neither be denied nor palliated, and to
which the custom of war does not apply; for it never could be
supposed that such a brutal outrage would ever be committed. It is an
original in the history of civilized barbarians, and is truly British.
On your part you are accountable to us for the personal safety of the
prisoners within your walls. Here can be no mistake; they can neither
be spies nor suspected as such; your security is not endangered, nor
your operations subjected to miscarriage, by men immured within a
dungeon. They differ in every circumstance from men in the field, and
leave no pretence for severity of punishment. But if to the dismal
condition of captivity with you must be added the constant
apprehensions of death; if to be imprisoned is so nearly to be
entombed; and if, after all, the murderers are to be protected, and
thereby the crime encouraged, wherein do you differ from [American]
Indians either in conduct or character?
We can have no idea of your honor, or your justice, in any future
transaction, of what nature it may be, while you shelter within your
lines an outrageous murderer, and sacrifice in his stead an officer
of your own. If you have no regard to us, at least spare the blood
which it is your duty to save. Whether the punishment will be greater
on him, who, in this case, innocently dies, or on him whom sad
necessity forces to retaliate, is, in the nicety of sensation, an
undecided question? It rests with you to prevent the sufferings of
both. You have nothing to do but to give up the murderer, and the
matter ends.
But to protect him, be he who he may, is to patronize his crime, and
to trifle it off by frivolous and unmeaning inquiries, is to promote
it. There is no declaration you can make, nor promise you can give
that will obtain credit. It is the man and not the apology that is
demanded.
You see yourself pressed on all sides to spare the life of your own
officer, for die he will if you withhold justice. The murder of
Captain Huddy is an offence not to be borne with, and there is no
security which we can have, that such actions or similar ones shall
not be repeated, but by making the punishment fall upon yourselves.
To destroy the last security of captivity, and to take the unarmed,
the unresisting prisoner to private and sportive execution, is
carrying barbarity too high for silence. The evil must be put an end
to; and the choice of persons rests with you. But if your attachment
to the guilty is stronger than to the innocent, you invent a crime
that must destroy your character, and if the cause of your king needs
to be so supported, for ever cease, sir, to torture our remembrance
with the wretched phrases of British honor, British generosity and
British clemency.
From this melancholy circumstance, learn, sir, a lesson of morality.
The refugees are men whom your predecessors have instructed in
wickedness, the better to fit them to their master's purpose. To make
them useful, they have made them vile, and the consequence of their
tutored villany is now descending on the heads of their encouragers.
They have been trained like hounds to the scent of blood, and
cherished in every species of dissolute barbarity. Their ideas of
right and wrong are worn away in the constant habitude of repeated
infamy, till, like men practised in execution, they feel not the
value of another's life.
The task before you, though painful, is not difficult; give up the
murderer, and save your officer, as the first outset of a necessary
reformation.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA May 31, 1782.
The Crisis.
XII.
TO THE EARL OF SHELBURNE.
MY LORD,- A speech, which has been printed in several of the British
and New York newspapers, as coming from your lordship, in answer to
one from the Duke of Richmond, of the 10th of July last, contains
expressions and opinions so new and singular, and so enveloped in
mysterious reasoning, that I address this publication to you, for the
purpose of giving them a free and candid examination. The speech I
allude to is in these words:
"His lordship said, it had been mentioned in another place, that he
had been guilty of inconsistency. To clear himself of this, he
asserted that he still held the same principles in respect to
American independence which he at first imbibed. He had been, and yet
was of opinion, whenever the Parliament of Great Britain acknowledges
that point, the sun of England's glory is set forever. Such were the
sentiments he possessed on a former day, and such the sentiments he
continued to hold at this hour. It was the opinion of Lord Chatham,
as well as many other able statesmen. Other noble lords, however,
think differently, and as the majority of the cabinet support them,
he acquiesced in the measure, dissenting from the idea; and the point
is settled for bringing the matter into the full discussion of
Parliament, where it will be candidly, fairly, and impartially
debated. The independence of America would end in the ruin of
England; and that a peace patched up with France, would give that
proud enemy the means of yet trampling on this country. The sun of
England's glory he wished not to see set forever; he looked for a
spark at least to be left, which might in time light us up to a new
day. But if independence was to be granted, if Parliament deemed that
measure prudent, he foresaw, in his own mind, that England was
undone. He wished to God that he had been deputed to Congress, that
be might plead the cause of that country as well as of this, and that
he might exercise whatever powers he possessed as an orator, to save
both from ruin, in a conviction to Congress, that, if their
independence was signed, their liberties were gone forever.
"Peace, his lordship added, was a desirable object, but it must be an
honorable peace, and not an humiliating one, dictated by France, or
insisted on by America. It was very true, that this kingdom was not
in a flourishing state, it was impoverished by war. But if we were
not rich, it was evident that France was poor. If we were straitened
in our finances, the enemy were exhausted in their resources. This
was a great empire; it abounded with brave men, who were able and
willing to fight in a common cause; the language of humiliation
should not, therefore, be the language of Great Britain. His lordship
said, that he was not afraid nor ashamed of those expressions going
to America. There were numbers, great numbers there, who were of the
same way of thinking, in respect to that country being dependent on
this, and who, with his lordship, perceived ruin and independence
linked together."
Thus far the speech; on which I remark- That his lordship is a total
stranger to the mind and sentiments of America; that he has wrapped
himself up in fond delusion, that something less than independence,
may, under his administration, be accepted; and he wishes himself
sent to Congress, to prove the most extraordinary of all doctrines,
which is, that independence, the sublimest of all human conditions,
is loss of liberty.
In answer to which we may say, that in order to know what the
contrary word dependence means, we have only to look back to those
years of severe humiliation, when the mildest of all petitions could
obtain no other notice than the haughtiest of all insults; and when
the base terms of unconditional submission were demanded, or
undistinguishable destruction threatened. It is nothing to us that
the ministry have been changed, for they may be changed again. The
guilt of a government is the crime of a whole country; and the nation
that can, though but for a moment, think and act as England has done,
can never afterwards be believed or trusted. There are cases in which
it is as impossible to restore character to life, as it is to recover
the dead. It is a phoenix that can expire but once, and from whose
ashes there is no resurrection. Some offences are of such a slight
composition, that they reach no further than the temper, and are
created or cured by a thought. But the sin of England has struck the
heart of America, and nature has not left in our power to say we can
forgive.
Your lordship wishes for an opportunity to plead before Congress the
cause of England and America, and to save, as you say, both from ruin.
That the country, which, for more than seven years has sought our
destruction, should now cringe to solicit our protection, is adding
the wretchedness of disgrace to the misery of disappointment; and if
England has the least spark of supposed honor left, that spark must
be darkened by asking, and extinguished by receiving, the smallest
favor from America; for the criminal who owes his life to the grace
and mercy of the injured, is more executed by living, than he who
dies.
But a thousand pleadings, even from your lordship, can have no
effect. Honor, interest, and every sensation of the heart, would
plead against you. We are a people who think not as you think; and
what is equally true, you cannot feel as we feel. The situations of
the two countries are exceedingly different. Ours has been the seat
of war; yours has seen nothing of it. The most wanton destruction has
been committed in our sight; the most insolent barbarity has been
acted on our feelings. We can look round and see the remains of burnt
and destroyed houses, once the fair fruit of hard industry, and now
the striking monuments of British brutality. We walk over the dead
whom we loved, in every part of America, and remember by whom they
fell. There is scarcely a village but brings to life some melancholy
thought, and reminds us of what we have suffered, and of those we
have lost by the inhumanity of Britain. A thousand images arise to
us, which, from situation, you cannot see, and are accompanied by as
many ideas which you cannot know; and therefore your supposed system
of reasoning would apply to nothing, and all your expectations die of
themselves.
The question whether England shall accede to the independence of
America, and which your lordship says is to undergo a parliamentary
discussion, is so very simple, and composed of so few cases, that it
scarcely needs a debate.
It is the only way out of an expensive and ruinous war, which has no
object, and without which acknowledgment there can be no peace.
But your lordship says, the sun of Great Britain will set whenever
she acknowledges the independence of America.- Whereas the metaphor
would have been strictly just, to have left the sun wholly out of the
figure, and have ascribed her not acknowledging it to the influence
of the moon.
But the expression, if true, is the greatest confession of disgrace
that could be made, and furnishes America with the highest notions of
sovereign independent importance. Mr. Wedderburne, about the year
1776, made use of an idea of much the same kind,- Relinquish America!
says he- What is it but to desire a giant to shrink spontaneously
into a dwarf.
Alas! are those people who call themselves Englishmen, of so little
internal consequence, that when America is gone, or shuts her eyes
upon them, their sun is set, they can shine no more, but grope about
in obscurity, and contract into insignificant animals? Was America,
then, the giant of the empire, and England only her dwarf in waiting!
Is the case so strangely altered, that those who once thought we
could not live without them, are now brought to declare that they
cannot exist without us? Will they tell to the world, and that from
their first minister of state, that America is their all in all; that
it is by her importance only that they can live, and breathe, and
have a being? Will they, who long since threatened to bring us to
their feet, bow themselves to ours, and own that without us they are
not a nation? Are they become so unqualified to debate on
independence, that they have lost all idea of it themselves, and are
calling to the rocks and mountains of America to cover their
insignificance? Or, if America is lost, is it manly to sob over it
like a child for its rattle, and invite the laughter of the world by
declarations of disgrace? Surely, a more consistent line of conduct
would be to bear it without complaint; and to show that England,
without America, can preserve her independence, and a suitable rank
with other European powers. You were not contented while you had her,
and to weep for her now is childish.
But Lord Shelburne thinks something may yet be done. What that
something is, or how it is to be accomplished, is a matter in
obscurity. By arms there is no hope. The experience of nearly eight
years, with the expense of an hundred million pounds sterling, and
the loss of two armies, must positively decide that point. Besides,
the British have lost their interest in America with the disaffected.
Every part of it has been tried. There is no new scene left for
delusion: and the thousands who have been ruined by adhering to them,
and have now to quit the settlements which they had acquired, and be
conveyed like transports to cultivate the deserts of Augustine and
Nova Scotia, has put an end to all further expectations of aid.
If you cast your eyes on the people of England, what have they to
console themselves with for the millions expended? Or, what
encouragement is there left to continue throwing good money after
bad? America can carry on the war for ten years longer, and all the
charges of government included, for less than you can defray the
charges of war and government for one year. And I, who know both
countries, know well, that the people of America can afford to pay
their share of the expense much better than the people of England
can. Besides, it is their own estates and property, their own rights,
liberties and government, that they are defending; and were they not
to do it, they would deserve to lose all, and none would pity them.
The fault would be their own, and their punishment just.
The British army in America care not how long the war lasts. They
enjoy an easy and indolent life. They fatten on the folly of one
country and the spoils of another; and, between their plunder and
their prey, may go home rich. But the case is very different with the
laboring farmer, the working tradesman, and the necessitous poor in
England, the sweat of whose brow goes day after day to feed, in
prodigality and sloth, the army that is robbing both them and us.
Removed from the eye of that country that supports them, and distant
from the government that employs them, they cut and carve for
themselves, and there is none to call them to account.
But England will be ruined, says Lord Shelburne, if America is
independent.
Then I say, is England already ruined, for America is already
independent: and if Lord Shelburne will not allow this, he
immediately denies the fact which he infers. Besides, to make England
the mere creature of America, is paying too great a compliment to us,
and too little to himself.
But the declaration is a rhapsody of inconsistency. For to say, as
Lord Shelburne has numberless times said, that the war against
America is ruinous, and yet to continue the prosecution of that
ruinous war for the purpose of avoiding ruin, is a language which
cannot be understood. Neither is it possible to see how the
independence of America is to accomplish the ruin of England after
the war is over, and yet not affect it before. America cannot be more
independent of her, nor a greater enemy to her, hereafter than she
now is; nor can England derive less advantages from her than at
present: why then is ruin to follow in the best state of the case,
and not in the worst? And if not in the worst, why is it to follow at
all?
That a nation is to be ruined by peace and commerce, and fourteen or
fifteen millions a-year less expenses than before, is a new doctrine
in politics. We have heard much clamor of national savings and
economy; but surely the true economy would be, to save the whole
charge of a silly, foolish, and headstrong war; because, compared
with this, all other retrenchments are baubles and trifles.
But is it possible that Lord Shelburne can be serious in supposing
that the least advantage can be obtained by arms, or that any
advantage can be equal to the expense or the danger of attempting it?
Will not the capture of one army after another satisfy him, must all
become prisoners? Must England ever be the sport of hope, and the
victim of delusion? Sometimes our currency was to fail; another time
our army was to disband; then whole provinces were to revolt. Such a
general said this and that; another wrote so and so; Lord Chatham was
of this opinion; and lord somebody else of another. To-day 20,000
Russians and 20 Russian ships of the line were to come; to-morrow the
empress was abused without mercy or decency. Then the Emperor of
Germany was to be bribed with a million of money, and the King of
Prussia was to do wonderful things. At one time it was, Lo here! and
then it was, Lo there! Sometimes this power, and sometimes that
power, was to engage in the war, just as if the whole world was mad
and foolish like Britain. And thus, from year to year, has every
straw been catched at, and every Will-with-a-wisp led them a new
dance.
This year a still newer folly is to take place. Lord Shelburne wishes
to be sent to Congress, and he thinks that something may be done.
Are not the repeated declarations of Congress, and which all America
supports, that they will not even hear any proposals whatever, until
the unconditional and unequivocal independence of America is
recognised; are not, I say, these declarations answer enough?
But for England to receive any thing from America now, after so many
insults, injuries and outrages, acted towards us, would show such a
spirit of meanness in her, that we could not but despise her for
accepting it. And so far from Lord Shelburne's coming here to solicit
it, it would be the greatest disgrace we could do them to offer it.
England would appear a wretch indeed, at this time of day, to ask or
owe any thing to the bounty of America. Has not the name of
Englishman blots enough upon it, without inventing more? Even Lucifer
would scorn to reign in heaven by permission, and yet an Englishman
can creep for only an entrance into America. Or, has a land of
liberty so many charms, that to be a doorkeeper in it is better than
to be an English minister of state?
But what can this expected something be? Or, if obtained, what can it
amount to, but new disgraces, contentions and quarrels? The people of
America have for years accustomed themselves to think and speak so
freely and contemptuously of English authority, and the inveteracy is
so deeply rooted, that a person invested with any authority from that
country, and attempting to exercise it here, would have the life of a
toad under a harrow. They would look on him as an interloper, to whom
their compassion permitted a residence. He would be no more than the
Mungo of a farce; and if he disliked that, he must set off. It would
be a station of degradation, debased by our pity, and despised by our
pride, and would place England in a more contemptible situation than
any she has yet been in during the war. We have too high an opinion
of ourselves, even to think of yielding again the least obedience to
outlandish authority; and for a thousand reasons, England would be
the last country in the world to yield it to. She has been
treacherous, and we know it. Her character is gone, and we have seen
the funeral.
Surely she loves to fish in troubled waters, and drink the cup of
contention, or she would not now think of mingling her affairs with
those of America. It would be like a foolish dotard taking to his
arms the bride that despises him, or who has placed on his head the
ensigns of her disgust. It is kissing the hand that boxes his ears,
and proposing to renew the exchange. The thought is as servile as the
war is wicked, and shows the last scene of the drama to be as
inconsistent as the first.
As America is gone, the only act of manhood is to let her go. Your
lordship had no hand in the separation, and you will gain no honor by
temporising politics. Besides, there is something so exceedingly
whimsical, unsteady, and even insincere in the present conduct of
England, that she exhibits herself in the most dishonorable colors.
On the second of August last, General Carleton and Admiral Digby
wrote to General Washington in these words:
"The resolution of the House of Commons, of the 27th of February
last, has been placed in Your Excellency's hands, and intimations
given at the same time that further pacific measures were likely to
follow. Since which, until the present time, we have had no direct
communications with England; but a mail is now arrived, which brings
us very important information. We are acquainted, sir, by authority,
that negotiations for a general peace have already commenced at
Paris, and that Mr. Grenville is invested with full powers to treat
with all the parties at war, and is now at Paris in execution of his
commission. And we are further, sir, made acquainted, that His
Majesty, in order to remove any obstacles to this peace which he so
ardently wishes to restore, has commanded his ministers to direct Mr.
Grenville, that the independence of the Thirteen United Provinces,
should be proposed by him in the first instance, instead of making it
a condition of a general treaty."
Now, taking your present measures into view, and comparing them with
the declaration in this letter, pray what is the word of your king,
or his ministers, or the Parliament, good for? Must we not look upon
you as a confederated body of faithless, treacherous men, whose
assurances are fraud, and their language deceit? What opinion can we
possibly form of you, but that you are a lost, abandoned, profligate
nation, who sport even with your own character, and are to be held by
nothing but the bayonet or the halter?
To say, after this, that the sun of Great Britain will be set
whenever she acknowledges the independence of America, when the not
doing it is the unqualified lie of government, can be no other than
the language of ridicule, the jargon of inconsistency. There were
thousands in America who predicted the delusion, and looked upon it
as a trick of treachery, to take us from our guard, and draw off our
attention from the only system of finance, by which we can be called,
or deserve to be called, a sovereign, independent people. The fraud,
on your part, might be worth attempting, but the sacrifice to obtain
it is too high.
There are others who credited the assurance, because they thought it
impossible that men who had their characters to establish, would
begin with a lie. The prosecution of the war by the former ministry
was savage and horrid; since which it has been mean, trickish, and
delusive. The one went greedily into the passion of revenge, the
other into the subtleties of low contrivance; till, between the
crimes of both, there is scarcely left a man in America, be he Whig
or Tory, who does not despise or detest the conduct of Britain.
The management of Lord Shelburne, whatever may be his views, is a
caution to us, and must be to the world, never to regard British
assurances. A perfidy so notorious cannot be hid. It stands even in
the public papers of New York, with the names of Carleton and Digby
affixed to it. It is a proclamation that the king of England is not
to be believed; that the spirit of lying is the governing principle
of the ministry. It is holding up the character of the House of
Commons to public infamy, and warning all men not to credit them.
Such are the consequences which Lord Shelburne's management has
brought upon his country.
After the authorized declarations contained in Carleton and Digby's
letter, you ought, from every motive of honor, policy and prudence,
to have fulfilled them, whatever might have been the event. It was
the least atonement that you could possibly make to America, and the
greatest kindness you could do to yourselves; for you will save
millions by a general peace, and you will lose as many by continuing
the war.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 29, 1782.
P. S. The manuscript copy of this letter is sent your lordship, by
the way of our head-quarters, to New York, inclosing a late pamphlet
of mine, addressed to the Abbe Raynal, which will serve to give your
lordship some idea of the principles and sentiments of America.
C. S.
The Crisis.
XIII.
THOUGHTS ON THE PEACE, AND THE PROBABLE ADVANTAGES THEREOF.
"THE times that tried men's souls,"* are over- and the greatest and
completest revolution the world ever knew, gloriously and happily
accomplished.
* "These are the times that try men's souls," The Crisis No. I.
published December, 1776.
But to pass from the extremes of danger to safety- from the tumult of
war to the tranquillity of peace, though sweet in contemplation,
requires a gradual composure of the senses to receive it. Even
calmness has the power of stunning, when it opens too instantly upon
us. The long and raging hurricane that should cease in a moment,
would leave us in a state rather of wonder than enjoyment; and some
moments of recollection must pass, before we could be capable of
tasting the felicity of repose. There are but few instances, in which
the mind is fitted for sudden transitions: it takes in its pleasures
by reflection and comparison and those must have time to act, before
the relish for new scenes is complete.
In the present case- the mighty magnitude of the object- the various
uncertainties of fate it has undergone- the numerous and complicated
dangers we have suffered or escaped- the eminence we now stand on,
and the vast prospect before us, must all conspire to impress us with
contemplation.
To see it in our power to make a world happy- to teach mankind the
art of being so- to exhibit, on the theatre of the universe a
character hitherto unknown- and to have, as it were, a new creation
intrusted to our hands, are honors that command reflection, and can
neither be too highly estimated, nor too gratefully received.
In this pause then of recollection- while the storm is ceasing, and
the long agitated mind vibrating to a rest, let us look back on the
scenes we have passed, and learn from experience what is yet to be
done.
Never, I say, had a country so many openings to happiness as this.
Her setting out in life, like the rising of a fair morning, was
unclouded and promising. Her cause was good. Her principles just and
liberal. Her temper serene and firm. Her conduct regulated by the
nicest steps, and everything about her wore the mark of honor. It is
not every country (perhaps there is not another in the world) that
can boast so fair an origin. Even the first settlement of America
corresponds with the character of the revolution. Rome, once the
proud mistress of the universe, was originally a band of ruffians.
Plunder and rapine made her rich, and her oppression of millions made
her great. But America need never be ashamed to tell her birth, nor
relate the stages by which she rose to empire.
The remembrance, then, of what is past, if it operates rightly, must
inspire her with the most laudable of all ambition, that of adding to
the fair fame she began with. The world has seen her great in
adversity; struggling, without a thought of yielding, beneath
accumulated difficulties, bravely, nay proudly, encountering
distress, and rising in resolution as the storm increased. All this
is justly due to her, for her fortitude has merited the character.
Let, then, the world see that she can bear prosperity: and that her
honest virtue in time of peace, is equal to the bravest virtue in
time of war.
She is now descending to the scenes of quiet and domestic life. Not
beneath the cypress shade of disappointment, but to enjoy in her own
land, and under her own vine, the sweet of her labors, and the reward
of her toil.- In this situation, may she never forget that a fair
national reputation is of as much importance as independence. That it
possesses a charm that wins upon the world, and makes even enemies
civil. That it gives a dignity which is often superior to power, and
commands reverence where pomp and splendor fail.
It would be a circumstance ever to be lamented and never to be
forgotten, were a single blot, from any cause whatever, suffered to
fall on a revolution, which to the end of time must be an honor to
the age that accomplished it: and which has contributed more to
enlighten the world, and diffuse a spirit of freedom and liberality
among mankind, than any human event (if this may be called one) that
ever preceded it.
It is not among the least of the calamities of a long continued war,
that it unhinges the mind from those nice sensations which at other
times appear so amiable. The continual spectacle of woe blunts the
finer feelings, and the necessity of bearing with the sight, renders
it familiar. In like manner, are many of the moral obligations of
society weakened, till the custom of acting by necessity becomes an
apology, where it is truly a crime. Yet let but a nation conceive
rightly of its character, and it will be chastely just in protecting
it. None ever began with a fairer than America and none can be under
a greater obligation to preserve it.
The debt which America has contracted, compared with the cause she
has gained, and the advantages to flow from it, ought scarcely to be
mentioned. She has it in her choice to do, and to live as happily as
she pleases. The world is in her hands. She has no foreign power to
monopolize her commerce, perplex her legislation, or control her
prosperity. The struggle is over, which must one day have happened,
and, perhaps, never could have happened at a better time.* And
instead of a domineering master, she has gained an ally whose
exemplary greatness, and universal liberality, have extorted a
confession even from her enemies.
* That the revolution began at the exact period of time best fitted
to the purpose, is sufficiently proved by the event.- But the great
hinge on which the whole machine turned, is the Union of the States:
and this union was naturally produced by the inability of any one
state to support itself against any foreign enemy without the
assistance of the rest.
Had the states severally been less able than they were when the war
began, their united strength would not have been equal to the
undertaking, and they must in all human probability have failed.-
And, on the other hand, had they severally been more able, they might
not have seen, or, what is more, might not have felt, the necessity
of uniting: and, either by attempting to stand alone or in small
confederacies, would have been separately conquered.
Now, as we cannot see a time (and many years must pass away before it
can arrive) when the strength of any one state, or several united,
can be equal to the whole of the present United States, and as we
have seen the extreme difficulty of collectively prosecuting the war
to a successful issue, and preserving our national importance in the
world, therefore, from the experience we have had, and the knowledge
we have gained, we must, unless we make a waste of wisdom, be
strongly impressed with the advantage, as well as the necessity of
strengthening that happy union which had been our salvation, and
without which we should have been a ruined people.
While I was writing this note, I cast my eye on the pamphlet, Common
Sense, from which I shall make an extract, as it exactly applies to
the case. It is as follows:
"I have never met with a man, either in England or America, who has
not confessed it as his opinion that a separation between the
countries would take place one time or other; and there is no
instance in which we have shown less judgment, than in endeavoring to
describe what we call the ripeness or fitness of the continent for
independence.
"As all men allow the measure, and differ only in their opinion of
the time, let us, in order to remove mistakes, take a general survey
of things, and endeavor, if possible, to find out the very time. But
we need not to go far, the inquiry ceases at once, for, the time has
found us. The general concurrence, the glorious union of all things
prove the fact.
"It is not in numbers, but in a union, that our great strength lies.
The continent is just arrived at that pitch of strength, in which no
single colony is able to support itself, and the whole, when united,
can accomplish the matter; and either more or less than this, might
be fatal in its effects."
With the blessings of peace, independence, and an universal commerce,
the states, individually and collectively, will have leisure and
opportunity to regulate and establish their domestic concerns, and to
put it beyond the power of calumny to throw the least reflection on
their honor. Character is much easier kept than recovered, and that
man, if any such there be, who, from sinister views, or littleness of
soul, lends unseen his hand to injure it, contrives a wound it will
never be in his power to heal.
As we have established an inheritance for posterity, let that
inheritance descend, with every mark of an honorable conveyance. The
little it will cost, compared with the worth of the states, the
greatness of the object, and the value of the national character,
will be a profitable exchange.
But that which must more forcibly strike a thoughtful, penetrating
mind, and which includes and renders easy all inferior concerns, is
the UNION OF THE STATES. On this our great national character
depends. It is this which must give us importance abroad and security
at home. It is through this only that we are, or can be, nationally
known in the world; it is the flag of the United States which renders
our ships and commerce safe on the seas, or in a foreign port. Our
Mediterranean passes must be obtained under the same style. All our
treaties, whether of alliance, peace, or commerce, are formed under
the sovereignty of the United States, and Europe knows us by no other
name or title.
The division of the empire into states is for our own convenience,
but abroad this distinction ceases. The affairs of each state are
local. They can go no further than to itself. And were the whole
worth of even the richest of them expended in revenue, it would not
be sufficient to support sovereignty against a foreign attack. In
short, we have no other national sovereignty than as United States.
It would even be fatal for us if we had- too expensive to be
maintained, and impossible to be supported. Individuals, or
individual states, may call themselves what they please; but the
world, and especially the world of enemies, is not to be held in awe
by the whistling of a name. Sovereignty must have power to protect
all the parts that compose and constitute it: and as UNITED STATES we
are equal to the importance of the title, but otherwise we are not.
Our union, well and wisely regulated and cemented, is the cheapest
way of being great- the easiest way of being powerful, and the
happiest invention in government which the circumstances of America
can admit of.- Because it collects from each state, that which, by
being inadequate, can be of no use to it, and forms an aggregate that
serves for all.
The states of Holland are an unfortunate instance of the effects of
individual sovereignty. Their disjointed condition exposes them to
numerous intrigues, losses, calamities, and enemies; and the almost
impossibility of bringing their measures to a decision, and that
decision into execution, is to them, and would be to us, a source of
endless misfortune.
It is with confederated states as with individuals in society;
something must be yielded up to make the whole secure. In this view
of things we gain by what we give, and draw an annual interest
greater than the capital.- I ever feel myself hurt when I hear the
union, that great palladium of our liberty and safety, the least
irreverently spoken of. It is the most sacred thing in the
constitution of America, and that which every man should be most
proud and tender of. Our citizenship in the United States is our
national character. Our citizenship in any particular state is only
our local distinction. By the latter we are known at home, by the
former to the world. Our great title is AMERICANS- our inferior one
varies with the place.
So far as my endeavors could go, they have all been directed to
conciliate the affections, unite the interests, and draw and keep the
mind of the country together; and the better to assist in this
foundation work of the revolution, I have avoided all places of
profit or office, either in the state I live in, or in the United
States; kept myself at a distance from all parties and party
connections, and even disregarded all private and inferior concerns:
and when we take into view the great work which we have gone through,
and feel, as we ought to feel, the just importance of it, we shall
then see, that the little wranglings and indecent contentions of
personal parley, are as dishonorable to our characters, as they are
injurious to our repose.
It was the cause of America that made me an author. The force with
which it struck my mind and the dangerous condition the country
appeared to me in, by courting an impossible and an unnatural
reconciliation with those who were determined to reduce her, instead
of striking out into the only line that could cement and save her, A
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, made it impossible for me, feeling as I
did, to be silent: and if, in the course of more than seven years, I
have rendered her any service, I have likewise added something to the
reputation of literature, by freely and disinterestedly employing it
in the great cause of mankind, and showing that there may be genius
without prostitution.
Independence always appeared to me practicable and probable, provided
the sentiment of the country could be formed and held to the object:
and there is no instance in the world, where a people so extended,
and wedded to former habits of thinking, and under such a variety of
circumstances, were so instantly and effectually pervaded, by a turn
in politics, as in the case of independence; and who supported their
opinion, undiminished, through such a succession of good and ill
fortune, till they crowned it with success.
But as the scenes of war are closed, and every man preparing for home
and happier times, I therefore take my leave of the subject. I have
most sincerely followed it from beginning to end, and through all its
turns and windings: and whatever country I may hereafter be in, I
shall always feel an honest pride at the part I have taken and acted,
and a gratitude to nature and providence for putting it in my power
to be of some use to mankind.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA, April 19, 1783.
A SUPERNUMERARY CRISIS
TO THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA.
IN "_Rivington's New York Gazette_," of December 6th, is a
publication, under the appearance of a letter from London, dated
September 30th; and is on a subject which demands the attention of
the United States.
The public will remember that a treaty of commerce between the United
States and England was set on foot last spring, and that until the
said treaty could be completed, a bill was brought into the British
Parliament by the then chancellor of the exchequer, Mr. Pitt, to
admit and legalize (as the case then required) the commerce of the
United States into the British ports and dominions. But neither the
one nor the other has been completed. The commercial treaty is either
broken off, or remains as it began; and the bill in Parliament has
been thrown aside. And in lieu thereof, a selfish system of English
politics has started up, calculated to fetter the commerce of
America, by engrossing to England the carrying trade of the American
produce to the West India islands.
Among the advocates for this last measure is Lord Sheffield, a member
of the British Parliament, who has published a pamphlet entitled
"Observations on the Commerce of the American States." The pamphlet
has two objects; the one is to allure the Americans to purchase
British manufactures; and the other to spirit up the British
Parliament to prohibit the citizens of the United States from trading
to the West India islands.
Viewed in this light, the pamphlet, though in some parts dexterously
written, is an absurdity. It offends, in the very act of endeavoring
to ingratiate; and his lordship, as a politician, ought not to have
suffered the two objects to have appeared together. The latter
alluded to, contains extracts from the pamphlet, with high encomiums
on Lord Sheffield, for laboriously endeavoring (as the letter styles
it) "to show the mighty advantages of retaining the carrying trade."
Since the publication of this pamphlet in England, the commerce of
the United States to the West Indies, in American vessels, has been
prohibited; and all intercourse, except in British bottoms, the
property of and navigated by British subjects, cut off.
That a country has a right to be as foolish as it pleases, has been
proved by the practice of England for many years past: in her island
situation, sequestered from the world, she forgets that her whispers
are heard by other nations; and in her plans of politics and commerce
she seems not to know, that other votes are necessary besides her
own. America would be equally as foolish as Britain, were she to
suffer so great a degradation on her flag, and such a stroke on the
freedom of her commerce, to pass without a balance.
We admit the right of any nation to prohibit the commerce of another
into its own dominions, where there are no treaties to the contrary;
but as this right belongs to one side as well as the other, there is
always a way left to bring avarice and insolence to reason.
But the ground of security which Lord Sheffield has chosen to erect
his policy upon, is of a nature which ought, and I think must, awaken
in every American a just and strong sense of national dignity. Lord
Sheffield appears to be sensible, that in advising the British nation
and Parliament to engross to themselves so great a part of the
carrying trade of America, he is attempting a measure which cannot
succeed, if the politics of the United States be properly directed to
counteract the assumption.
But, says he, in his pamphlet, "It will be a long time before the
American states can be brought to act as a nation, neither are they
to be feared as such by us."
What is this more or less than to tell us, that while we have no
national system of commerce, the British will govern our trade by
their own laws and proclamations as they please. The quotation
discloses a truth too serious to be overlooked, and too mischievous
not to be remedied.
Among other circumstances which led them to this discovery none could
operate so effectually as the injudicious, uncandid and indecent
opposition made by sundry persons in a certain state, to the
recommendations of Congress last winter, for an import duty of five
per cent. It could not but explain to the British a weakness in the
national power of America, and encourage them to attempt restrictions
on her trade, which otherwise they would not have dared to hazard.
Neither is there any state in the union, whose policy was more
misdirected to its interest than the state I allude to, because her
principal support is the carrying trade, which Britain, induced by
the want of a well-centred power in the United States to protect and
secure, is now attempting to take away. It fortunately happened (and
to no state in the union more than the state in question) that the
terms of peace were agreed on before the opposition appeared,
otherwise, there cannot be a doubt, that if the same idea of the
diminished authority of America had occurred to them at that time as
has occurred to them since, but they would have made the same grasp
at the fisheries, as they have done at the carrying trade.
It is surprising that an authority which can be supported with so
much ease, and so little expense, and capable of such extensive
advantages to the country, should be cavilled at by those whose duty
it is to watch over it, and whose existence as a people depends upon
it. But this, perhaps, will ever be the case, till some misfortune
awakens us into reason, and the instance now before us is but a
gentle beginning of what America must expect, unless she guards her
union with nicer care and stricter honor. United, she is formidable,
and that with the least possible charge a nation can be so;
separated, she is a medley of individual nothings, subject to the
sport of foreign nations.
It is very probable that the ingenuity of commerce may have found out
a method to evade and supersede the intentions of the British, in
interdicting the trade with the West India islands. The language of
both being the same, and their customs well understood, the vessels
of one country may, by deception, pass for those of another. But this
would be a practice too debasing for a sovereign people to stoop to,
and too profligate not to be discountenanced. An illicit trade, under
any shape it can be placed, cannot be carried on without a violation
of truth. America is now sovereign and independent, and ought to
conduct her affairs in a regular style of character. She has the same
right to say that no British vessel shall enter ports, or that no
British manufactures shall be imported, but in American bottoms, the
property of, and navigated by American subjects, as Britain has to
say the same thing respecting the West Indies. Or she may lay a duty
of ten, fifteen, or twenty shillings per ton (exclusive of other
duties) on every British vessel coming from any port of the West
Indies, where she is not admitted to trade, the said tonnage to
continue as long on her side as the prohibition continues on the
other.
But it is only by acting in union, that the usurpations of foreign
nations on the freedom of trade can be counteracted, and security
extended to the commerce of America. And when we view a flag, which
to the eye is beautiful, and to contemplate its rise and origin
inspires a sensation of sublime delight, our national honor must
unite with our interest to prevent injury to the one, or insult to
the other.
COMMON SENSE.
NEW YORK, December 9, 1783.
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Writings of Thomas Paine Vol. I
by Thomas Paine
**End of Part 2 on revolutionarywararchives.org**
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