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.