The Crisis VII
Thomas Paine
[An open letter to the People of England; 21
November, 1778]
THERE are stages in the business of serious life in which to amuse
is cruel, but to deceive is to destroy; and it is of little
consequence, in the conclusion, whether men deceive themselves, or
submit, by a kind of mutual consent, to the impositions of each
other. That England has long been under the influence of delusion or
mistake, needs no other proof than the unexpected and wretched
situation that she is now involved in: and so powerful has been the
influence, that no provision was ever made or thought of against the
misfortune, because the possibility of its happening was never
conceived.
The general and successful resistance of America, the conquest of
Burgoyne, and a war in France, were treated in parliament as the
dreams of a discontented opposition, or a distempered imagination.
They were beheld as objects unworthy of a serious thought, and the
bare intimation of them afforded the ministry a triumph of laughter.
Short triumph indeed! For everything which has been predicted has
happened, and all that was promised has failed. A long series of
politics so remarkably distinguished by a succession of misfortunes,
without one alleviating turn, must certainly have something in it
systematically wrong. It is sufficient to awaken the most credulous
into suspicion, and the most obstinate into thought. Either the
means in your power are insufficient, or the measures ill planned;
either the execution has been bad, or the thing attempted
impracticable; or, to speak more emphatically, either you are not
able or heaven is not willing. For, why is it that you have not
conquered us? Who, or what has prevented you? You have had every
opportunity that you could desire, and succeeded to your utmost wish
in every preparatory means. Your fleets and armies have arrived in
America without an accident. No uncommon fortune has intervened. No
foreign nation has interfered until the time which you had allotted
for victory was passed. The opposition, either in or out of
parliament, neither disconcerted your measures, retarded or
diminished your force. They only foretold your fate. Every
ministerial scheme was carried with as high a hand as if the whole
nation had been unanimous. Every thing wanted was asked for, and
every thing asked for was granted.
A greater force was not within the compass of your abilities to
send, and the time you sent it was of all others the most favorable.
You were then at rest with the whole world beside. You had the range
of every court in Europe uncontradicted by us. You amused us with a
tale of commissioners of peace, and under that disguise collected a
numerous army and came almost unexpectedly upon us. The force was
much greater than we looked for; and that which we had to oppose it
with, was unequal in numbers, badly armed, and poorly disciplined;
beside which, it was embodied only for a short time, and expired
within a few months after your arrival. We had governments to form;
measures to concert; an army to train, and every necessary article
to import or to create. Our non-importation scheme had exhausted our
stores, and your command by sea intercepted our supplies. We were a
people unknown, and unconnected with the political world, and
strangers to the disposition of foreign powers. Could you possibly
wish for a more favorable conjunction of circumstances? Yet all
these have happened and passed away, and, as it were, left you with
a laugh. There are likewise, events of such an original nativity as
can never happen again, unless a new world should arise from the
ocean.
If any thing can be a lesson to presumption, surely the
circumstances of this war will have their effect. Had Britain been
defeated by any European power, her pride would have drawn
consolation from the importance of her conquerors; but in the
present case, she is excelled by those that she affected to despise,
and her own opinions retorting upon herself, become an aggravation
of her disgrace. Misfortune and experience are lost upon mankind,
when they produce neither reflection nor reformation. Evils, like
poisons, have their uses, and there are diseases which no other
remedy can reach. It has been the crime and folly of England to
suppose herself invincible, and that, without acknowledging or
perceiving that a full third of her strength was drawn from the
country she is now at war with. The arm of Britain has been spoken
of as the arm of the Almighty, and she has lived of late as if she
thought the whole world created for her diversion. Her politics,
instead of civilizing, has tended to brutalize mankind, and under
the vain, unmeaning title of "Defender of the Faith," she
has made war like an Indian against the religion of humanity. Her
cruelties in the East Indies will never be forgotten, and it is
somewhat remarkable that the produce of that ruined country,
transported to America, should there kindle up a war to punish the
destroyer. The chain is continued, though with a mysterious kind of
uniformity both in the crime and the punishment. The latter runs
parallel with the former, and time and fate will give it a perfect
illustration.
When information is withheld, ignorance becomes a reasonable
excuse; and one would charitably hope that the people of England do
not encourage cruelty from choice but from mistake. Their recluse
situation, surrounded by the sea, preserves them from the calamities
of war, and keeps them in the dark as to the conduct of their own
armies. They see not, therefore they feel not. They tell the tale
that is told them and believe it, and accustomed to no other news
than their own, they receive it, stripped of its horrors and
prepared for the palate of the nation, through the channel of the
London Gazette. They are made to believe that their generals and
armies differ from those of other nations, and have nothing of
rudeness or barbarity in them. They suppose them what they wish them
to be. They feel a disgrace in thinking otherwise, and naturally
encourage the belief from a partiality to themselves. There was a
time when I felt the same prejudices, and reasoned from the same
errors; but experience, sad and painful experience, has taught me
better. What the conduct of former armies was, I know not, but what
the conduct of the present is, I well know. It is low, cruel,
indolent and profligate; and had the people of America no other
cause for separation than what the army has occasioned, that alone
is cause sufficient.
The field of politics in England is far more extensive than that of
news. Men have a right to reason for themselves, and though they
cannot contradict the intelligence in the London Gazette, they may
frame upon it what sentiments they please. But the misfortune is,
that a general ignorance has prevailed over the whole nation
respecting America. The ministry and the minority have both been
wrong. The former was always so, the latter only lately so.
Politics, to be executively right, must have a unity of means and
time, and a defect in either overthrows the whole. The ministry
rejected the plans of the minority while they were practicable, and
joined in them when they became impracticable. From wrong measures
they got into wrong time, and have now completed the circle of
absurdity by closing it upon themselves.
I happened to come to America a few months before the breaking out
of hostilities. I found the disposition of the people such, that
they might have been led by a thread and governed by a reed. Their
suspicion was quick and penetrating, but their attachment to Britain
was obstinate, and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak
against it. They disliked the ministry, but they esteemed the
nation. Their idea of grievance operated without resentment, and
their single object was reconciliation. Bad as I believed the
ministry to be, I never conceived them capable of a measure so rash
and wicked as the commencing of hostilities; much less did I imagine
the nation would encourage it. I viewed the dispute as a kind of
law-suit, in which I supposed the parties would find a way either to
decide or settle it. I had no thoughts of independence or of arms.
The world could not then have persuaded me that I should be either
a soldier or an author. If I had any talents for either, they were
buried in me, and might ever have continued so, had not the
necessity of the times dragged and driven them into action. I had
formed my plan of life, and conceiving myself happy, wished every
body else so. But when the country, into which I had just set my
foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. It was
time for every man to stir. Those who had been long settled had
something to defend; those who had just come had something to
pursue; and the call and the concern was equal and universal. For in
a country where all men were once adventurers, the difference of a
few years in their arrival could make none in their right.
The breaking out of hostilities opened a new suspicion in the
politics of America, which, though at that time very rare, has since
been proved to be very right. What I allude to is, "a secret
and fixed determination in the British Cabinet to annex America to
the crown of England as a conquered country." If this be taken
as the object, then the whole line of conduct pursued by the
ministry, though rash in its origin and ruinous in its consequences,
is nevertheless uniform and consistent in its parts. It applies to
every case and resolves every difficulty. But if taxation, or any
thing else, be taken in its room, there is no proportion between the
object and the charge. Nothing but the whole soil and property of
the country can be placed as a possible equivalent against the
millions which the ministry expended. No taxes raised in America
could possibly repay it. A revenue of two millions sterling a year
would not discharge the sum and interest accumulated thereon, in
twenty years.
Reconciliation never appears to have been the wish or the object of
the administration; they looked on conquest as certain and
infallible, and, under that persuasion, sought to drive the
Americans into what they might style a general rebellion, and then,
crushing them with arms in their hands, reap the rich harvest of a
general confiscation, and silence them for ever. The dependents at
court were too numerous to be provided for in England. The market
for plunder in the East Indies was over; and the profligacy of
government required that a new mine should be opened, and that mine
could be no other than America, conquered and forfeited. They had no
where else to go. Every other channel was drained; and extravagance,
with the thirst of a drunkard, was gaping for supplies.
If the ministry deny this to have been their plan, it becomes them
to explain what was their plan. For either they have abused us in
coveting property they never labored for, or they have abused you in
expending an amazing sum upon an incompetent object. Taxation, as I
mentioned before, could never be worth the charge of obtaining it by
arms; and any kind of formal obedience which America could have
made, would have weighed with the lightness of a laugh against such
a load of expense. It is therefore most probable that the ministry
will at last justify their policy by their dishonesty, and openly
declare, that their original design was conquest: and, in this case,
it well becomes the people of England to consider how far the nation
would have been benefited by the success.
In a general view, there are few conquests that repay the charge of
making them, and mankind are pretty well convinced that it can never
be worth their while to go to war for profit's sake. If they are
made war upon, their country invaded, or their existence at stake,
it is their duty to defend and preserve themselves, but in every
other light, and from every other cause, is war inglorious and
detestable. But to return to the case in question-
When conquests are made of foreign countries, it is supposed that
the commerce and dominion of the country which made them are
extended. But this could neither be the object nor the consequence
of the present war. You enjoyed the whole commerce before. It could
receive no possible addition by a conquest, but on the contrary,
must diminish as the inhabitants were reduced in numbers and wealth.
You had the same dominion over the country which you used to have,
and had no complaint to make against her for breach of any part of
the contract between you or her, or contending against any
established custom, commercial, political or territorial. The
country and commerce were both your own when you began to conquer,
in the same manner and form as they had been your own a hundred
years before. Nations have sometimes been induced to make conquests
for the sake of reducing the power of their enemies, or bringing it
to a balance with their own. But this could be no part of your plan.
No foreign authority was claimed here, neither was any such
authority suspected by you, or acknowledged or imagined by us. What
then, in the name of heaven, could you go to war for? Or what chance
could you possibly have in the event, but either to hold the same
country which you held before, and that in a much worse condition,
or to lose, with an amazing expense, what you might have retained
without a farthing of charges?
War never can be the interest of a trading nation, any more than
quarrelling can be profitable to a man in business. But to make war
with those who trade with us, is like setting a bull-dog upon a
customer at the shop-door. The least degree of common sense shows
the madness of the latter, and it will apply with the same force of
conviction to the former. Piratical nations, having neither commerce
or commodities of their own to lose, may make war upon all the
world, and lucratively find their account in it; but it is quite
otherwise with Britain: for, besides the stoppage of trade in time
of war, she exposes more of her own property to be lost, than she
has the chance of taking from others. Some ministerial gentlemen in
parliament have mentioned the greatness of her trade as an apology
for the greatness of her loss. This is miserable politics indeed!
Because it ought to have been given as a reason for her not engaging
in a war at first. The coast of America commands the West India
trade almost as effectually as the coast of Africa does that of the
Straits; and England can no more carry on the former without the
consent of America, than she can the latter without a Mediterranean
pass.
In whatever light the war with America is considered upon
commercial principles, it is evidently the interest of the people of
England not to support it; and why it has been supported so long,
against the clearest demonstrations of truth and national advantage,
is, to me, and must be to all the reasonable world, a matter of
astonishment. Perhaps it may be said that I live in America, and
write this from interest. To this I reply, that my principle is
universal. My attachment is to all the world, and not to any
particular part, and if what I advance is right, no matter where or
who it comes from. We have given the proclamation of your
commissioners a currency in our newspapers, and I have no doubt you
will give this a place in yours. To oblige and be obliged is fair.
Before I dismiss this part of my address, I shall mention one more
circumstance in which I think the people of England have been
equally mistaken: and then proceed to other matters.
There is such an idea existing in the world, as that of national
honor, and this, falsely understood, is oftentimes the cause of war.
In a Christian and philosophical sense, mankind seem to have stood
still at individual civilization, and to retain as nations all the
original rudeness of nature. Peace by treaty is only a cessation of
violence for a reformation of sentiment. It is a substitute for a
principle that is wanting and ever will be wanting till the idea of
national honor be rightly understood. As individuals we profess
ourselves Christians, but as nations we are heathens, Romans, and
what not. I remember the late Admiral Saunders declaring in the
House of Commons, and that in the time of peace, "That the city
of Madrid laid in ashes was not a sufficient atonement for the
Spaniards taking off the rudder of an English sloop of war." I
do not ask whether this is Christianity or morality, I ask whether
it is decency? whether it is proper language for a nation to use? In
private life we call it by the plain name of bullying, and the
elevation of rank cannot alter its character. It is, I think,
exceedingly easy to define what ought to be understood by national
honor; for that which is the best character for an individual is the
best character for a nation; and wherever the latter exceeds or
falls beneath the former, there is a departure from the line of true
greatness.
I have thrown out this observation with a design of applying it to
Great Britain. Her ideas of national honor seem devoid of that
benevolence of heart, that universal expansion of philanthropy, and
that triumph over the rage of vulgar prejudice, without which man is
inferior to himself, and a companion of common animals. To know who
she shall regard or dislike, she asks what country they are of, what
religion they profess, and what property they enjoy. Her idea of
national honor seems to consist in national insult, and that to be a
great people, is to be neither a Christian, a philosopher, or a
gentleman, but to threaten with the rudeness of a bear, and to
devour with the ferocity of a lion. This perhaps may sound harsh and
uncourtly, but it is too true, and the more is the pity.
I mention this only as her general character. But towards America
she has observed no character at all; and destroyed by her conduct
what she assumed in her title. She set out with the title of parent,
or mother country. The association of ideas which naturally
accompany this expression, are filled with everything that is fond,
tender and forbearing. They have an energy peculiar to themselves,
and, overlooking the accidental attachment of common affections,
apply with infinite softness to the first feelings of the heart. It
is a political term which every mother can feel the force of, and
every child can judge of. It needs no painting of mine to set it
off, for nature only can do it justice.
But has any part of your conduct to America corresponded with the
title you set up? If in your general national character you are
unpolished and severe, in this you are inconsistent and unnatural,
and you must have exceeding false notions of national honor to
suppose that the world can admire a want of humanity or that
national honor depends on the violence of resentment, the
inflexibility of temper, or the vengeance of execution.
I would willingly convince you, and that with as much temper as the
times will suffer me to do, that as you opposed your own interest by
quarrelling with us, so likewise your national honor, rightly
conceived and understood, was no ways called upon to enter into a
war with America; had you studied true greatness of heart, the first
and fairest ornament of mankind, you would have acted directly
contrary to all that you have done, and the world would have
ascribed it to a generous cause. Besides which, you had (though with
the assistance of this country) secured a powerful name by the last
war. You were known and dreaded abroad; and it would have been wise
in you to have suffered the world to have slept undisturbed under
that idea. It was to you a force existing without expense. It
produced to you all the advantages of real power; and you were
stronger through the universality of that charm, than any future
fleets and armies may probably make you. Your greatness was so
secured and interwoven with your silence that you ought never to
have awakened mankind, and had nothing to do but to be quiet. Had
you been true politicians you would have seen all this, and
continued to draw from the magic of a name, the force and authority
of a nation.
Unwise as you were in breaking the charm, you were still more
unwise in the manner of doing it. Samson only told the secret, but
you have performed the operation; you have shaven your own head, and
wantonly thrown away the locks. America was the hair from which the
charm was drawn that infatuated the world. You ought to have
quarrelled with no power; but with her upon no account. You had
nothing to fear from any condescension you might make. You might
have humored her, even if there had been no justice in her claims,
without any risk to your reputation; for Europe, fascinated by your
fame, would have ascribed it to your benevolence, and America,
intoxicated by the grant, would have slumbered in her fetters.
But this method of studying the progress of the passions, in order
to ascertain the probable conduct of mankind, is a philosophy in
politics which those who preside at St. James's have no conception
of. They know no other influence than corruption and reckon all
their probabilities from precedent. A new case is to them a new
world, and while they are seeking for a parallel they get lost. The
talents of Lord Mansfield can be estimated at best no higher than
those of a sophist. He understands the subtleties but not the
elegance of nature; and by continually viewing mankind through the
cold medium of the law, never thinks of penetrating into the warmer
region of the mind. As for Lord North, it is his happiness to have
in him more philosophy than sentiment, for he bears flogging like a
top, and sleeps the better for it. His punishment becomes his
support, for while he suffers the lash for his sins, he keeps
himself up by twirling about. In politics, he is a good
arithmetician, and in every thing else nothing at all.
There is one circumstance which comes so much within Lord North's
province as a financier, that I am surprised it should escape him,
which is, the different abilities of the two countries in supporting
the expense; for, strange as it may seem, England is not a match for
America in this particular. By a curious kind of revolution in
accounts, the people of England seem to mistake their poverty for
their riches; that is, they reckon their national debt as a part of
their national wealth. They make the same kind of error which a man
would do, who after mortgaging his estate, should add the money
borrowed, to the full value of the estate, in order to count up his
worth, and in this case he would conceive that he got rich by
running into debt. Just thus it is with England. The government owed
at the beginning of this war one hundred and thirty-five millions
sterling, and though the individuals to whom it was due had a right
to reckon their shares as so much private property, yet to the
nation collectively it was so much poverty. There are as effectual
limits to public debts as to private ones, for when once the money
borrowed is so great as to require the whole yearly revenue to
discharge the interest thereon, there is an end to further
borrowing; in the same manner as when the interest of a man's debts
amounts to the yearly income of his estate, there is an end to his
credit. This is nearly the case with England, the interest of her
present debt being at least equal to one half of her yearly revenue,
so that out of ten millions annually collected by taxes, she has but
five that she can call her own.
The very reverse of this was the case with America; she began the
war without any debt upon her, and in order to carry it on, she
neither raised money by taxes, nor borrowed it upon interest, but
created it; and her situation at this time continues so much the
reverse of yours that taxing would make her rich, whereas it would
make you poor. When we shall have sunk the sum which we have
created, we shall then be out of debt, be just as rich as when we
began, and all the while we are doing it shall feel no difference,
because the value will rise as the quantity decreases.
There was not a country in the world so capable of bearing the
expense of a war as America; not only because she was not in debt
when she began, but because the country is young and capable of
infinite improvement, and has an almost boundless tract of new lands
in store; whereas England has got to her extent of age and growth,
and has not unoccupied land or property in reserve. The one is like
a young heir coming to a large improvable estate; the other like an
old man whose chances are over, and his estate mortgaged for half
its worth.
In the second number of the Crisis, which I find has been
republished in England, I endeavored to set forth the
impracticability of conquering America. I stated every case, that I
conceived could possibly happen, and ventured to predict its
consequences. As my conclusions were drawn not artfully, but
naturally, they have all proved to be true. I was upon the spot;
knew the politics of America, her strength and resources, and by a
train of services, the best in my power to render, was honored with
the friendship of the congress, the army and the people. I
considered the cause a just one. I know and feel it a just one, and
under that confidence never made my own profit or loss an object. My
endeavor was to have the matter well understood on both sides, and I
conceived myself tendering a general service, by setting forth to
the one the impossibility of being conquered, and to the other the
impossibility of conquering. Most of the arguments made use of by
the ministry for supporting the war, are the very arguments that
ought to have been used against supporting it; and the plans, by
which they thought to conquer, are the very plans in which they were
sure to be defeated. They have taken every thing up at the wrong
end. Their ignorance is astonishing, and were you in my situation
you would see it. They may, perhaps, have your confidence, but I am
persuaded that they would make very indifferent members of Congress.
I know what England is, and what America is, and from the compound
of knowledge, am better enabled to judge of the issue than what the
king or any of his ministers can be.
In this number I have endeavored to show the ill policy and
disadvantages of the war. I believe many of my remarks are new.
Those which are not so, I have studied to improve and place in a
manner that may be clear and striking. Your failure is, I am
persuaded, as certain as fate. America is above your reach. She is
at least your equal in the world, and her independence neither rests
upon your consent, nor can it be prevented by your arms. In short,
you spend your substance in vain, and impoverish yourselves without
a hope.
But suppose you had conquered America, what advantages,
collectively or individually, as merchants, manufacturers, or
conquerors, could you have looked for? This is an object you seemed
never to have attended to. Listening for the sound of victory, and
led away by the frenzy of arms, you neglected to reckon either the
cost or the consequences. You must all pay towards the expense; the
poorest among you must bear his share, and it is both your right and
your duty to weigh seriously the matter. Had America been conquered,
she might have been parcelled out in grants to the favorites at
court, but no share of it would have fallen to you. Your taxes would
not have been lessened, because she would have been in no condition
to have paid any towards your relief. We are rich by contrivance of
our own, which would have ceased as soon as you became masters. Our
paper money will be of no use in England, and silver and gold we
have none. In the last war you made many conquests, but were any of
your taxes lessened thereby? On the contrary, were you not taxed to
pay for the charge of making them, and has not the same been the
case in every war?
To the Parliament I wish to address myself in a more particular
manner. They appear to have supposed themselves partners in the
chase, and to have hunted with the lion from an expectation of a
right in the booty; but in this it is most probable they would, as
legislators, have been disappointed. The case is quite a new one,
and many unforeseen difficulties would have arisen thereon. The
Parliament claimed a legislative right over America, and the war
originated from that pretence. But the army is supposed to belong to
the crown, and if America had been conquered through their means,
the claim of the legislature would have been suffocated in the
conquest. Ceded, or conquered, countries are supposed to be out of
the authority of Parliament. Taxation is exercised over them by
prerogative and not by law. It was attempted to be done in the
Grenadas a few years ago, and the only reason why it was not done
was because the crown had made a prior relinquishment of its claim.
Therefore, Parliament have been all this while supporting measures
for the establishment of their authority, in the issue of which,
they would have been triumphed over by the prerogative. This might
have opened a new and interesting opposition between the Parliament
and the crown. The crown would have said that it conquered for
itself, and that to conquer for Parliament was an unknown case. The
Parliament might have replied, that America not being a foreign
country, but a country in rebellion, could not be said to be
conquered, but reduced; and thus continued their claim by disowning
the term. The crown might have rejoined, that however America might
be considered at first, she became foreign at last by a declaration
of independence, and a treaty with France; and that her case being,
by that treaty, put within the law of nations, was out of the law of
Parliament, who might have maintained, that as their claim over
America had never been surrendered, so neither could it be taken
away. The crown might have insisted, that though the claim of
Parliament could not be taken away, yet, being an inferior, it might
be superseded; and that, whether the claim was withdrawn from the
object, or the object taken from the claim, the same separation
ensued; and that America being subdued after a treaty with France,
was to all intents and purposes a regal conquest, and of course the
sole property of the king. The Parliament, as the legal delegates of
the people, might have contended against the term "inferior,"
and rested the case upon the antiquity of power, and this would have
brought on a set of very interesting and rational questions.
1st, What is the original fountain of power and honor in any
country?
2d, Whether the prerogative does not belong to the people?
3d, Whether there is any such thing as the English constitution?
4th, Of what use is the crown to the people?
5th, Whether he who invented a crown was not an enemy to mankind?
6th, Whether it is not a shame for a man to spend a million a year
and do no good for it, and whether the money might not be better
applied?
7th, Whether such a man is not better dead than alive?
8th, Whether a Congress, constituted like that of America, is not
the most happy and consistent form of government in the world?- With
a number of others of the same import.
In short, the contention about the dividend might have distracted
the nation; for nothing is more common than to agree in the conquest
and quarrel for the prize; therefore it is, perhaps, a happy
circumstance, that our successes have prevented the dispute.
If the Parliament had been thrown out in their claim, which it is
most probable they would, the nation likewise would have been thrown
out in their expectation; for as the taxes would have been laid on
by the crown without the Parliament, the revenue arising therefrom,
if any could have arisen, would not have gone into the exchequer,
but into the privy purse, and so far from lessening the taxes, would
not even have been added to them, but served only as pocket money to
the crown. The more I reflect on this matter, the more I am
satisfied at the blindness and ill policy of my countrymen, whose
wisdom seems to operate without discernment, and their strength
without an object.
To the great bulwark of the nation, I mean the mercantile and
manufacturing part thereof, I likewise present my address. It is
your interest to see America an independent, and not a conquered
country. If conquered, she is ruined; and if ruined, poor;
consequently the trade will be a trifle, and her credit doubtful. If
independent, she flourishes, and from her flourishing must your
profits arise. It matters nothing to you who governs America, if
your manufactures find a consumption there. Some articles will
consequently be obtained from other places, and it is right that
they should; but the demand for others will increase, by the great
influx of inhabitants which a state of independence and peace will
occasion, and in the final event you may be enriched. The commerce
of America is perfectly free, and ever will be so. She will consign
away no part of it to any nation. She has not to her friends, and
certainly will not to her enemies; though it is probable that your
narrow-minded politicians, thinking to please you thereby, may some
time or other unnecessarily make such a proposal. Trade flourishes
best when it is free, and it is weak policy to attempt to fetter it.
Her treaty with France is on the most liberal and generous
principles, and the French, in their conduct towards her, have
proved themselves to be philosophers, politicians, and gentlemen.
To the ministry I likewise address myself. You, gentlemen, have
studied the ruin of your country, from which it is not within your
abilities to rescue her. Your attempts to recover her are as
ridiculous as your plans which involved her are detestable. The
commissioners, being about to depart, will probably bring you this,
and with it my sixth number, addressed to them; and in so doing they
carry back more Common Sense than they brought, and you likewise
will have more than when you sent them.
Having thus addressed you severally, I conclude by addressing you
collectively. It is a long lane that has no turning. A period of
sixteen years of misconduct and misfortune, is certainly long enough
for any one nation to suffer under; and upon a supposition that war
is not declared between France and you, I beg to place a line of
conduct before you that will easily lead you out of all your
troubles. It has been hinted before, and cannot be too much attended
to.
Suppose America had remained unknown to Europe till the present
year, and that Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander, in another voyage round
the world, had made the first discovery of her, in the same
condition that she is now in, of arts, arms, numbers, and
civilization. What, I ask, in that case, would have been your
conduct towards her? For that will point out what it ought to be
now. The problems and their solutions are equal, and the right line
of the one is the parallel of the other. The question takes in every
circumstance that can possibly arise. It reduces politics to a
simple thought, and is moreover a mode of investigation, in which,
while you are studying your interest the simplicity of the case will
cheat you into good temper. You have nothing to do but to suppose
that you have found America, and she appears found to your hand, and
while in the joy of your heart you stand still to admire her, the
path of politics rises straight before you.
Were I disposed to paint a contrast, I could easily set off what
you have done in the present case, against what you would have done
in that case, and by justly opposing them, conclude a picture that
would make you blush. But, as, when any of the prouder passions are
hurt, it is much better philosophy to let a man slip into a good
temper than to attack him in a bad one, for that reason, therefore,
I only state the case, and leave you to reflect upon it.
To go a little back into politics, it will be found that the true
interest of Britain lay in proposing and promoting the independence
of America immediately after the last peace; for the expense which
Britain had then incurred by defending America as her own dominions,
ought to have shown her the policy and necessity of changing the
style of the country, as the best probable method of preventing
future wars and expense, and the only method by which she could hold
the commerce without the charge of sovereignty. Besides which, the
title which she assumed, of parent country, led to, and pointed out
the propriety, wisdom and advantage of a separation; for, as in
private life, children grow into men, and by setting up for
themselves, extend and secure the interest of the whole family, so
in the settlement of colonies large enough to admit of maturity, the
same policy should be pursued, and the same consequences would
follow. Nothing hurts the affections both of parents and children so
much, as living too closely connected, and keeping up the
distinction too long. Domineering will not do over those, who, by a
progress in life, have become equal in rank to their parents, that
is, when they have families of their own; and though they may
conceive themselves the subjects of their advice, will not suppose
them the objects of their government. I do not, by drawing this
parallel, mean to admit the title of parent country, because, if it
is due any where, it is due to Europe collectively, and the first
settlers from England were driven here by persecution. I mean only
to introduce the term for the sake of policy and to show from your
title the line of your interest.
When you saw the state of strength and opulence, and that by her
own industry, which America arrived at, you ought to have advised
her to set up for herself, and proposed an alliance of interest with
her, and in so doing you would have drawn, and that at her own
expense, more real advantage, and more military supplies and
assistance, both of ships and men, than from any weak and wrangling
government that you could exercise over her. In short, had you
studied only the domestic politics of a family, you would have
learned how to govern the state; but, instead of this easy and
natural line, you flew out into every thing which was wild and
outrageous, till, by following the passion and stupidity of the
pilot, you wrecked the vessel within sight of the shore.
Having shown what you ought to have done, I now proceed to show why
it was not done. The caterpillar circle of the court had an interest
to pursue, distinct from, and opposed to yours; for though by the
independence of America and an alliance therewith, the trade would
have continued, if not increased, as in many articles neither
country can go to a better market, and though by defending and
protecting herself, she would have been no expense to you, and
consequently your national charges would have decreased, and your
taxes might have been proportionably lessened thereby; yet the
striking off so many places from the court calendar was put in
opposition to the interest of the nation. The loss of thirteen
government ships, with their appendages, here and in England, is a
shocking sound in the ear of a hungry courtier. Your present king
and ministry will be the ruin of you; and you had better risk a
revolution and call a Congress, than be thus led on from madness to
despair, and from despair to ruin. America has set you the example,
and you may follow it and be free.
I now come to the last part, a war with France. This is what no man
in his senses will advise you to, and all good men would wish to
prevent. Whether France will declare war against you, is not for me
in this place to mention, or to hint, even if I knew it; but it must
be madness in you to do it first. The matter is come now to a full
crisis, and peace is easy if willingly set about. Whatever you may
think, France has behaved handsomely to you. She would have been
unjust to herself to have acted otherwise than she did; and having
accepted our offer of alliance she gave you genteel notice of it.
There was nothing in her conduct reserved or indelicate, and while
she announced her determination to support her treaty, she left you
to give the first offence. America, on her part, has exhibited a
character of firmness to the world. Unprepared and unarmed, without
form or government, she, singly opposed a nation that domineered
over half the globe. The greatness of the deed demands respect; and
though you may feel resentment, you are compelled both to wonder and
admire.
Here I rest my arguments and finish my address. Such as it is, it
is a gift, and you are welcome. It was always my design to dedicate
a Crisis to you, when the time should come that would properly make
it a Crisis; and when, likewise, I should catch myself in a temper
to write it, and suppose you in a condition to read it. That time
has now arrived, and with it the opportunity for conveyance. For the
commissioners- poor commissioners! having proclaimed, that "yet
forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown," have waited out
the date, and, discontented with their God, are returning to their
gourd. And all the harm I wish them is, that it may not wither about
their ears, and that they may not make their exit in the belly of a
whale.
-- COMMON SENSE.
P.S.- Though in the tranquillity of my mind I have concluded with a
laugh, yet I have something to mention to the commissioners, which,
to them, is serious and worthy their attention. Their authority is
derived from an Act of Parliament, which likewise describes and
limits their official powers. Their commission, therefore, is only a
recital, and personal investiture, of those powers, or a nomination
and description of the persons who are to execute them. Had it
contained any thing contrary to, or gone beyond the line of, the
written law from which it is derived, and by which it is bound, it
would, by the English constitution, have been treason in the crown,
and the king been subject to an impeachment. He dared not,
therefore, put in his commission what you have put in your
proclamation, that is, he dared not have authorised you in that
commission to burn and destroy any thing in America. You are both
in the act and in the commission styled commissioners for restoring
peace, and the methods for doing it are there pointed out. Your last
proclamation is signed by you as commissioners under that act. You
make Parliament the patron of its contents. Yet, in the body of it,
you insert matters contrary both to the spirit and letter of the
act, and what likewise your king dared not have put in his
commission to you. The state of things in England, gentlemen, is too
ticklish for you to run hazards. You are accountable to Parliament
for the execution of that act according to the letter of it. Your
heads may pay for breaking it, for you certainly have broke it by
exceeding it. And as a friend, who would wish you to escape the paw
of the lion, as well as the belly of the whale, I civilly hint to
you, to keep within compass.
Sir Harry Clinton, strictly speaking, is as accountable as the
rest; for though a general, he is likewise a commissioner, acting
under a superior authority. His first obedience is due to the act;
and his plea of being a general, will not and cannot clear him as a
commissioner, for that would suppose the crown, in its single
capacity, to have a power of dispensing with an Act of Parliament.
Your situation, gentlemen, is nice and critical, and the more so
because England is unsettled. Take heed! Remember the times of
Charles the First! For Laud and Stafford fell by trusting to a hope
like yours.
Having thus shown you the danger of your proclamation, I now show
you the folly of it. The means contradict your design: you threaten
to lay waste, in order to render America a useless acquisition of
alliance to France. I reply, that the more destruction you commit
(if you could do it) the more valuable to France you make that
alliance. You can destroy only houses and goods; and by so doing you
increase our demand upon her for materials and merchandise; for the
wants of one nation, provided it has freedom and credit, naturally
produce riches to the other; and, as you can neither ruin the land
nor prevent the vegetation, you would increase the exportation of
our produce in payment, which would be to her a new fund of wealth.
In short, had you cast about for a plan on purpose to enrich your
enemies, you could not have hit upon a better.
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