Philadelphia, 28 April, 1777.
There is a clock calm at this time in the political and military
hemispheres. The surface is smooth and the air serene. Not a breath nor
a wave, no news nor noise.
Nothing would promote our cause more than Howe's march to this town.
Nothing quickens and determines people so much as a little smart. The
Germans, who are numerous and wealthy in this State, and who have very
imperfect ideas of freedom, have a violent attachment to property. They
are passionate and vindictive, in a degree that is scarcely credible to
persons who are unacquainted with them, and the least injury to their
property excites a resentment beyond description. A few houses and
plantations plundered (as many would be if Howe should come here) would
set them all on fire. Nothing would unite and determine Pennsylvania so
effectually. The passions of men must cooperate with their reason in the
prosecution of a war. The public may be clearly convinced that a war is
just, and yet, until their passions are excited, will carry it languidly
on. The prejudices, the anger, the hatred of the English against the
French contributes greatly to their valor and success. The British Court
and their officers have studied to excite the same passions in the
breasts of their soldiers against the Americans, well knowing their
powerful effects. We, on the contrary, have treated their characters
with too much tenderness. The Howes, their officers, and soldiers too,
ought to be held up to the contempt, derision, hatred, and abhorrence
of the populace in every State, and of the common soldiers in every
army. It would give me no pain to see them burned or hanged in effigy in
every town and village.