and the time you sent it was of all others the most favorable. You were
then at rest with the whole world beside. You had the range of every
court in Europe uncontradicted by us. You amused us with a tale of
commissioners of peace, and under that disguise collected a numerous
army and came almost unexpectedly upon us. The force was much greater
than we looked for; and that which we had to oppose it with, was unequal
in numbers, badly armed, and poorly disciplined; beside which, it was
embodied only for a short time, and expired within a few months after
your arrival. We had governments to form; measures to concert; an
army to train, and every necessary article to import or to create. Our
non-importation scheme had exhausted our stores, and your command by sea
intercepted our supplies. We were a people unknown, and unconnected with
the political world, and strangers to the disposition of foreign
powers. Could you possibly wish for a more favorable conjunction of
circumstances? Yet all these have happened and passed away, and, as
it were, left you with a laugh. There are likewise, events of such an
original nativity as can never happen again, unless a new world should
arise from the ocean.
If any thing can be a lesson to presumption, surely the circumstances
of this war will have their effect. Had Britain been defeated by
any European power, her pride would have drawn consolation from the
importance of her conquerors; but in the present case, she is excelled
by those that she affected to despise, and her own opinions retorting
upon herself, become an aggravation of her disgrace. Misfortune and
experience are lost upon mankind, when they produce neither reflection
nor reformation. Evils, like poisons, have their uses, and there are
diseases which no other remedy can reach. It has been the crime and
folly of England to suppose herself invincible, and that, without
acknowledging or perceiving that a full third of her strength was drawn
from the country she is now at war with. The arm of Britain has been
spoken of as the arm of the Almighty, and she has lived of late as if
she thought the whole world created for her diversion. Her politics,
instead of civilizing, has tended to brutalize mankind, and under the
vain, unmeaning title of "Defender of the Faith," she has made war like
an Indian against the religion of humanity. Her cruelties in the East
Indies will never be forgotten, and it is somewhat remarkable that the
produce of that ruined country, transported to America, should there
kindle up a war to punish the destroyer. The chain is continued,
though with a mysterious kind of uniformity both in the crime and the
punishment. The latter runs parallel with the former, and time and fate
will give it a perfect illustration.
When information is withheld, ignorance becomes a reasonable excuse; and
one would charitably hope that the people of England do not encourage
cruelty from choice but from mistake. Their recluse situation,
surrounded by the sea, preserves them from the calamities of war, and
keeps them in the dark as to the conduct of their own armies. They see
not, therefore they feel not. They tell the tale that is told them and
believe it, and accustomed to no other news than their own, they receive
it, stripped of its horrors and prepared for the palate of the nation,
through the channel of the London Gazette. They are made to believe that
their generals and armies differ from those of other nations, and have
nothing of rudeness or barbarity in them. They suppose them what
they wish them to be. They feel a disgrace in thinking otherwise, and
naturally encourage the belief from a partiality to themselves. There
was a time when I felt the same prejudices, and reasoned from the
same errors; but experience, sad and painful experience, has taught me
better. What the conduct of former armies was, I know not, but what the
conduct of the present is, I well know. It is low, cruel, indolent and
profligate; and had the people of America no other cause for separation
than what the army has occasioned, that alone is cause sufficient.
The field of politics in England is far more extensive than that of
news. Men have a right to reason for themselves, and though they cannot
contradict the intelligence in the London Gazette, they may frame upon
it what sentiments they please. But the misfortune is, that a general
ignorance has prevailed over the whole nation respecting America. The
ministry and the minority have both been wrong. The former was always
so, the latter only lately so. Politics, to be executively right, must
have a unity of means and time, and a defect in either overthrows the
whole. The ministry rejected the plans of the minority while they were
practicable, and joined in them when they became impracticable. From
wrong measures they got into wrong time, and have now completed the
circle of absurdity by closing it upon themselves.
I happened to come to America a few months before the breaking out of
hostilities. I found the disposition of the people such, that they might
have been led by a thread and governed by a reed. Their suspicion was
quick and penetrating, but their attachment to Britain was obstinate,
and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak against it. They
disliked the ministry, but they esteemed the nation. Their idea of
grievance operated without resentment, and their single object was
reconciliation. Bad as I believed the ministry to be, I never conceived
them capable of a measure so rash and wicked as the commencing of
hostilities; much less did I imagine the nation would encourage it.
I viewed the dispute as a kind of law-suit, in which I supposed the
parties would find a way either to decide or settle it. I had no
thoughts of independence or of arms. The world could not then have
persuaded me that I should be either a soldier or an author. If I had
any talents for either, they were buried in me, and might ever have
continued so, had not the necessity of the times dragged and driven them
into action. I had formed my plan of life, and conceiving myself happy,
wished every body else so. But when the country, into which I had just
set my foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. It
was time for every man to stir. Those who had been long settled had
something to defend; those who had just come had something to pursue;
and the call and the concern was equal and universal. For in a country
where all men were once adventurers, the difference of a few years in
their arrival could make none in their right.
The breaking out of hostilities opened a new suspicion in the politics
of America, which, though at that time very rare, has since been proved
to be very right. What I allude to is, "a secret and fixed determination
in the British Cabinet to annex America to the crown of England as a
conquered country." If this be taken as the object, then the whole
line of conduct pursued by the ministry, though rash in its origin and
ruinous in its consequences, is nevertheless uniform and consistent in
its parts. It applies to every case and resolves every difficulty.
But if taxation, or any thing else, be taken in its room, there is no
proportion between the object and the charge. Nothing but the whole
soil and property of the country can be placed as a possible equivalent
against the millions which the ministry expended. No taxes raised in
America could possibly repay it. A revenue of two millions sterling a
year would not discharge the sum and interest accumulated thereon, in
twenty years.
Reconciliation never appears to have been the wish or the object of the
administration; they looked on conquest as certain and infallible, and,
under that persuasion, sought to drive the Americans into what they
might style a general rebellion, and then, crushing them with arms
in their hands, reap the rich harvest of a general confiscation, and
silence them for ever. The dependents at court were too numerous to be
provided for in England. The market for plunder in the East Indies was
over; and the profligacy of government required that a new mine should
be opened, and that mine could be no other than America, conquered
and forfeited. They had no where else to go. Every other channel was
drained; and extravagance, with the thirst of a drunkard, was gaping for
supplies.
If the ministry deny this to have been their plan, it becomes them to
explain what was their plan. For either they have abused us in coveting
property they never labored for, or they have abused you in expending an
amazing sum upon an incompetent object. Taxation, as I mentioned before,
could never be worth the charge of obtaining it by arms; and any kind of
formal obedience which America could have made, would have weighed with
the lightness of a laugh against such a load of expense. It is therefore
most probable that the ministry will at last justify their policy by
their dishonesty, and openly declare, that their original design was
conquest: and, in this case, it well becomes the people of England to
consider how far the nation would have been benefited by the success.
In a general view, there are few conquests that repay the charge of
making them, and mankind are pretty well convinced that it can never be
worth their while to go to war for profit's sake. If they are made war
upon, their country invaded, or their existence at stake, it is their
duty to defend and preserve themselves, but in every other light, and
from every other cause, is war inglorious and detestable. But to return
to the case in question--
When conquests are made of foreign countries, it is supposed that the
commerce and dominion of the country which made them are extended. But
this could neither be the object nor the consequence of the present
war. You enjoyed the whole commerce before. It could receive no possible
addition by a conquest, but on the contrary, must diminish as the
inhabitants were reduced in numbers and wealth. You had the same
dominion over the country which you used to have, and had no complaint
to make against her for breach of any part of the contract between
you or her, or contending against any established custom, commercial,
political or territorial. The country and commerce were both your own
when you began to conquer, in the same manner and form as they had been
your own a hundred years before. Nations have sometimes been induced to
make conquests for the sake of reducing the power of their enemies, or
bringing it to a balance with their own. But this could be no part of
your plan. No foreign authority was claimed here, neither was any such
authority suspected by you, or acknowledged or imagined by us. What
then, in the name of heaven, could you go to war for? Or what chance
could you possibly have in the event, but either to hold the same
country which you held before, and that in a much worse condition, or
to lose, with an amazing expense, what you might have retained without a
farthing of charges?
War never can be the interest of a trading nation, any more than
quarrelling can be profitable to a man in business. But to make war with
those who trade with us, is like setting a bull-dog upon a customer at
the shop-door. The least degree of common sense shows the madness of
the latter, and it will apply with the same force of conviction to the
former. Piratical nations, having neither commerce or commodities of
their own to lose, may make war upon all the world, and lucratively
find their account in it; but it is quite otherwise with Britain: for,
besides the stoppage of trade in time of war, she exposes more of her
own property to be lost, than she has the chance of taking from others.
Some ministerial gentlemen in parliament have mentioned the greatness of
her trade as an apology for the greatness of her loss. This is miserable
politics indeed! Because it ought to have been given as a reason for her
not engaging in a war at first. The coast of America commands the West
India trade almost as effectually as the coast of Africa does that of
the Straits; and England can no more carry on the former without the
consent of America, than she can the latter without a Mediterranean
pass.
In whatever light the war with America is considered upon commercial
principles, it is evidently the interest of the people of England not to
support it; and why it has been supported so long, against the clearest
demonstrations of truth and national advantage, is, to me, and must be
to all the reasonable world, a matter of astonishment. Perhaps it may
be said that I live in America, and write this from interest. To this
I reply, that my principle is universal. My attachment is to all the
world, and not to any particular part, and if what I advance is right,
no matter where or who it comes from. We have given the proclamation of
your commissioners a currency in our newspapers, and I have no doubt you
will give this a place in yours. To oblige and be obliged is fair.
Before I dismiss this part of my address, I shall mention one more
circumstance in which I think the people of England have been equally
mistaken: and then proceed to other matters.
There is such an idea existing in the world, as that of national honor,
and this, falsely understood, is oftentimes the cause of war. In a
Christian and philosophical sense, mankind seem to have stood still
at individual civilization, and to retain as nations all the original
rudeness of nature. Peace by treaty is only a cessation of violence for
a reformation of sentiment. It is a substitute for a principle that
is wanting and ever will be wanting till the idea of national honor be
rightly understood. As individuals we profess ourselves Christians, but
as nations we are heathens, Romans, and what not. I remember the late
Admiral Saunders declaring in the House of Commons, and that in the time
of peace, "That the city of Madrid laid in ashes was not a sufficient
atonement for the Spaniards taking off the rudder of an English sloop
of war." I do not ask whether this is Christianity or morality, I ask
whether it is decency? whether it is proper language for a nation to
use? In private life we call it by the plain name of bullying, and
the elevation of rank cannot alter its character. It is, I think,
exceedingly easy to define what ought to be understood by national
honor; for that which is the best character for an individual is the
best character for a nation; and wherever the latter exceeds or
falls beneath the former, there is a departure from the line of true
greatness.
I have thrown out this observation with a design of applying it to Great
Britain. Her ideas of national honor seem devoid of that benevolence of
heart, that universal expansion of philanthropy, and that triumph over
the rage of vulgar prejudice, without which man is inferior to himself,
and a companion of common animals. To know who she shall regard or
dislike, she asks what country they are of, what religion they profess,
and what property they enjoy. Her idea of national honor seems to
consist in national insult, and that to be a great people, is to be
neither a Christian, a philosopher, or a gentleman, but to threaten with
the rudeness of a bear, and to devour with the ferocity of a lion. This
perhaps may sound harsh and uncourtly, but it is too true, and the more
is the pity.
I mention this only as her general character. But towards America she
has observed no character at all; and destroyed by her conduct what she
assumed in her title. She set out with the title of parent, or mother
country. The association of ideas which naturally accompany this
expression, are filled with everything that is fond, tender and
forbearing. They have an energy peculiar to themselves, and, overlooking
the accidental attachment of common affections, apply with infinite
softness to the first feelings of the heart. It is a political term
which every mother can feel the force of, and every child can judge of.
It needs no painting of mine to set it off, for nature only can do it
justice.
But has any part of your conduct to America corresponded with the title
you set up? If in your general national character you are unpolished and
severe, in this you are inconsistent and unnatural, and you must have
exceeding false notions of national honor to suppose that the world can
admire a want of humanity or that national honor depends on the
violence of resentment, the inflexibility of temper, or the vengeance of
execution.
I would willingly convince you, and that with as much temper as the
times will suffer me to do, that as you opposed your own interest by
quarrelling with us, so likewise your national honor, rightly conceived
and understood, was no ways called upon to enter into a war with
America; had you studied true greatness of heart, the first and fairest
ornament of mankind, you would have acted directly contrary to all that
you have done, and the world would have ascribed it to a generous cause.
Besides which, you had (though with the assistance of this country)
secured a powerful name by the last war. You were known and dreaded
abroad; and it would have been wise in you to have suffered the world to
have slept undisturbed under that idea. It was to you a force existing
without expense. It produced to you all the advantages of real power;
and you were stronger through the universality of that charm, than any
future fleets and armies may probably make you. Your greatness was so
secured and interwoven with your silence that you ought never to have
awakened mankind, and had nothing to do but to be quiet. Had you been
true politicians you would have seen all this, and continued to draw
from the magic of a name, the force and authority of a nation.
Unwise as you were in breaking the charm, you were still more unwise
in the manner of doing it. Samson only told the secret, but you have
performed the operation; you have shaven your own head, and wantonly
thrown away the locks. America was the hair from which the charm was
drawn that infatuated the world. You ought to have quarrelled with no
power; but with her upon no account. You had nothing to fear from any
condescension you might make. You might have humored her, even if there
had been no justice in her claims, without any risk to your reputation;
for Europe, fascinated by your fame, would have ascribed it to your
benevolence, and America, intoxicated by the grant, would have slumbered
in her fetters.
But this method of studying the progress of the passions, in order to
ascertain the probable conduct of mankind, is a philosophy in politics
which those who preside at St. James's have no conception of. They know
no other influence than corruption and reckon all their probabilities
from precedent. A new case is to them a new world, and while they are
seeking for a parallel they get lost. The talents of Lord Mansfield can
be estimated at best no higher than those of a sophist. He understands
the subtleties but not the elegance of nature; and by continually
viewing mankind through the cold medium of the law, never thinks of
penetrating into the warmer region of the mind. As for Lord North, it
is his happiness to have in him more philosophy than sentiment, for he
bears flogging like a top, and sleeps the better for it. His punishment
becomes his support, for while he suffers the lash for his sins,
he keeps himself up by twirling about. In politics, he is a good
arithmetician, and in every thing else nothing at all.
There is one circumstance which comes so much within Lord North's
province as a financier, that I am surprised it should escape him,
which is, the different abilities of the two countries in supporting the
expense; for, strange as it may seem, England is not a match for America
in this particular. By a curious kind of revolution in accounts, the
people of England seem to mistake their poverty for their riches; that
is, they reckon their national debt as a part of their national wealth.
They make the same kind of error which a man would do, who after
mortgaging his estate, should add the money borrowed, to the full value
of the estate, in order to count up his worth, and in this case he would
conceive that he got rich by running into debt. Just thus it is with
England. The government owed at the beginning of this war one hundred
and thirty-five millions sterling, and though the individuals to whom it
was due had a right to reckon their shares as so much private property,
yet to the nation collectively it was so much poverty. There are as
effectual limits to public debts as to private ones, for when once the
money borrowed is so great as to require the whole yearly revenue to
discharge the interest thereon, there is an end to further borrowing;
in the same manner as when the interest of a man's debts amounts to
the yearly income of his estate, there is an end to his credit. This is
nearly the case with England, the interest of her present debt being
at least equal to one half of her yearly revenue, so that out of ten
millions annually collected by taxes, she has but five that she can call
her own.
The very reverse of this was the case with America; she began the war
without any debt upon her, and in order to carry it on, she neither
raised money by taxes, nor borrowed it upon interest, but created it;
and her situation at this time continues so much the reverse of yours
that taxing would make her rich, whereas it would make you poor. When we
shall have sunk the sum which we have created, we shall then be out of
debt, be just as rich as when we began, and all the while we are doing
it shall feel no difference, because the value will rise as the quantity
decreases.
There was not a country in the world so capable of bearing the expense
of a war as America; not only because she was not in debt when she
began, but because the country is young and capable of infinite
improvement, and has an almost boundless tract of new lands in store;
whereas England has got to her extent of age and growth, and has not
unoccupied land or property in reserve. The one is like a young heir
coming to a large improvable estate; the other like an old man whose
chances are over, and his estate mortgaged for half its worth.
In the second number of the Crisis, which I find has been republished
in England, I endeavored to set forth the impracticability of conquering
America. I stated every case, that I conceived could possibly happen,
and ventured to predict its consequences. As my conclusions were drawn
not artfully, but naturally, they have all proved to be true. I was upon
the spot; knew the politics of America, her strength and resources, and
by a train of services, the best in my power to render, was honored with
the friendship of the congress, the army and the people. I considered
the cause a just one. I know and feel it a just one, and under that
confidence never made my own profit or loss an object. My endeavor was
to have the matter well understood on both sides, and I conceived
myself tendering a general service, by setting forth to the one the
impossibility of being conquered, and to the other the impossibility
of conquering. Most of the arguments made use of by the ministry for
supporting the war, are the very arguments that ought to have been used
against supporting it; and the plans, by which they thought to conquer,
are the very plans in which they were sure to be defeated. They have
taken every thing up at the wrong end. Their ignorance is astonishing,
and were you in my situation you would see it. They may, perhaps,
have your confidence, but I am persuaded that they would make very
indifferent members of Congress. I know what England is, and what
America is, and from the compound of knowledge, am better enabled to
judge of the issue than what the king or any of his ministers can be.
In this number I have endeavored to show the ill policy and
disadvantages of the war. I believe many of my remarks are new. Those
which are not so, I have studied to improve and place in a manner that
may be clear and striking. Your failure is, I am persuaded, as certain
as fate. America is above your reach. She is at least your equal in the
world, and her independence neither rests upon your consent, nor can it
be prevented by your arms. In short, you spend your substance in vain,
and impoverish yourselves without a hope.