THE late procedure of the Congress in de­taining and imprisoning Lieut. HELE, of the Hotham sloop, bearing a flag of truce, being a flagrant violation of the law of nations, should not pass without reprehension; nor the sophistry which would attempt to justify it, without being detected and exposed. The spirit which dictated this extraordinary measure, is perfectly similar to that which actuates the Congress in all their other proceedings; this is an additional rea­son why it should be held up to public view, that the men and their measures may be the better known. The answer of Congress to Admiral GAMBIER's letter, requiring the release of Lieut. HELE and his associates, having been authenticated by the signature of your name, I shall address to you the followihg stric­tures on that answer, which, I presume, you and they deem a full vindication of your conduct.

The circumstances which gave rise to the above answer, are so recent and well known, that it is need­less to recapitulate them minutely. It will be suffi­cient [Page 4] to observe—that the King's Commissioners, af­ter making the most generous offers to the Congress, (such as no American in the hour of sober reason and reflection had a right to expect, or would have refu­sed) and attempting to bring about a reconciliation with the revolted colonies, in vain, thought proper, on the 3d of Oct. 1778, to issue their final manifesto and proclamation, renewing their former offers, and in­timating their intention of returning to England spee­dily, in case they were rejected—that this proclamation was addressed in the first instance to the Congress— that Lieut. HELE, in the Hotham sloop, bearing a flag of truce, was charged with the delivery of the proclamation to the Congress—that his sloop was wreck­ed in the Bay of Delaware, while proceeding on this business—that two of his people perished on the wreck —and that himself and the remainder, who with diffi­culty reached the shore, were seized and flung into prison, by order of the Congress.

On receiving the first intelligence of this inhuman act, so repugnant to the practice of all nations, civil­ized or savage, Admiral GAMBIER ordered an appli­cation to be made to Mr. Beatty, the rebel Commis­sary of Prisoners, demanding the immediate release of Lieut. HELE and his companions. Two resolves of the Congress, authorising this nefarious deed, were transmitted by Mr. Beatty; and no other satisfaction was obtained: Lieut. HELE and his men were still detained in prison.

A gallant officer will poignantly feel any insult offered to his Sovereign—any injury done to those who serve under him. The Admiral wrote a very sensible, spirited letter to the Congress, repeating the former demand, and expostulating with them on the in­justice of their procedure. Among other things he urged,

To these arguments, equally true, just and forcible, the Congress returned an oracular response; setting forth— ‘That as the manifestos on board that vessel (the Hotham) were of a seditious nature, and in­tended to open an unwarrantable correspondence; their being covered with a flag of truce is by no means an extenuation of the offence.—That as no respect is due by the law of nations to a flag of truce when employed in illicit practices, so when detect­ed, all the rights of a flag are forfeited; nor does the accidental wreck of the vessel in question make any distinction in favour of those who navigated her.’

The disingenuous sophistry of this part of your an­swer (and it is of a piece with the rest) is as contemp­tible, as the measure it would justify, is base and abominable. Every circumstance relative to the flag of truce is misrepresented; every thing is called by an appellation which implies guilt, and an air of criminality is thereby thrown upon the whole, in or­der to make out the appearance of an argument for your vindication. A manifesto containing the most liberal overtures of accommodation, and addressed to the Congress, is pronounced seditious, and tending to open an unwarrantable correspondence; a flag of truce engaged openly to convey those manifestos to the Congress, is said to be employed in illicit practices; and [Page 6] to be detected in those practices, when wrecked on her passage! Can any thing be more disingenuous, or a grosser violation of truth?

Yet were every tittle of this true, it would by no means justify your conduct. The law of nations would not authorise you to detain Lieut. HELE and his crew, supposing him to be even employed on the design you alledge, and to have arrived at Philadel­phia: That law would justify no more on your part than a refusal of the manifestos, the preventing their circulation, and a dismission of the flag of truce, to return from whence she came; but utterly forbids your barbarity to him when wrecked on his passage.

The law of nations is no other than the law of reason applied to communities, in their intercourse with each other, whether in peace or war; and their sense of it we must learn from their practices in par­ticular cases. As peace is the legitimate object of war—as this object cannot be obtained, nor the horrors of war softened otherwise than by the in­tervention of persons who shall transact between the belligerent powers: Mankind have always agreed in paying a reverential regard to those who were employed for those salutary purposes, whether cal­led ambassadors, envoys, plenipotentiaries, depu­ties, heralds, officers with a white flag, a drum, trumpet, or any thing else that was expressive of their pacific design. Their persons were held sacred and inviolable; they were considered as amenable to those only who sent them; they might misbehave whilst in an enemy's country, but this was not thought sufficient to authorise an enemy to punish them. The state to which they were sent might, in this case send them home, or accuse them to their masters, who then became their judges or accomplices. The utility arising from the intercourse which was kept up [Page 7] by those persons, was not the only cause of their safety: A sense of honour and public faith in the states to which they were sent, contributed to it much more; for these were considered as plighted to pro­tect the man who came with a peaceful, salutary in­tention, and voluntarily threw himself on the huma­nity of his enemies.

Were it necessary I could fill pages with quota­tions from ancient authors, and from modern writers on the law of nations, to evince what is here assert­ed. Their suffrages are unanimous on this point; and those suffrages are supported by cogent arguments and the practice of nations. Whoever chuses it may turn to Grotius, Puffendorf, Buddeus, Barbeyrac, Burla­maqui or Montesquieu, among foreigners, or to Selden, Hutchinson or Rutherforth, of our own nation, and he will find their testimony clear, united and decisive.

It may however be proper to produce an instance from history which will apply to the present case; of a multitude that occur, I shall select one from the Roman history, at a period when, I dare say, you, Sir, and your associates most admire the prin­ciples and conduct of that people—it was when they abolished the Regal authority. Soon after Tarquin's expulsion from Rome, he sent deputies or ambas­sadors, that is, in modern language, persons with a flag of truce, to demand his effects: The depu­ties were admitted to an audience by the Senate, and the latter took several days to deliberate whether the demand should be granted or refused. During this interval, Tarquin's deputies remained in the city, and meeting with several persons who were desirous of restoring the ancient government, entered into a plot with them for the purpose; the plan was regu­larly concerted—Tarquin was to be secretely admit­ted in the night—every thing was ready for execu­tion, [Page 8] when the whole was discovered; and the ac­tive part which was taken by the king's deputies, that is, his officers bearing a flag of truce, was clearly detected and proved. What followed? Did the Romans judge that according to the law of na­tions, ‘the rights of a flag were forfeited by those men thus detected in illicit practices;’ and were they not accordingly imprisoned or put to death? No—quite the reverse. De legatis, says Livy, in his concise way, paullulum addubitatum est; et quanquam visi sunt commississe, ut hostium loce essent, jus tamen gentium valuit. i. e. "For some time they (the Senate and Consuls) were in suspense how to proceed with the ambassadors or deputies; and al­though the latter deserved to be treated as enemies, yet a regard to the law of nations prevailed."—Ac­cordingly, the deputies were dismissed without injury.

Reflect on this case, Sir, and compare the conduct of those Romans, with yours in the affair before us. There, deputies from an abjured monarch, under the pretext of demanding his effects, entered into a conspiracy against the new government of Rome— even within its walls. They were detected in the conspiracy, their guilt was clearly proved; yet such was the respect paid by the Romans to the law of na­tions, and to the sacred character of Ambassadors, that they sent away those conspirators to their master, without offering them any violence. Here, Lieutenant Hele, on a much more interesting and important oc­casion, (for he came with propositions to restore peace and re-unite a great empire, they only to demand some old furniture) approached your city; he came openly and undisguised, relying on that public faith and honour which had ever been the protection of per­sons in his character; he engaged in no conspiracy; had no other intention than to deliver his dispatches; he was unfortunately wrecked: And you, without [Page 9] compassion for his misfortune, without regard to the character he bore, seized him and flung him into a dungeon!

Really, Sir, the procedure of the Roman Senate is so opposite to that of the American Congress, in cir­cumstances nearly resembling each other, that one would be tempted to adopt the sentiments of the sar­castic Gulliver, at least in one instance. Whilst in the Island of Sorcerers, where the Governor could sum­mon the dead to appear just as they were when for­merly alive, Capt. Gulliver ‘desired that the Senate of Rome might appear before him in one large chamber, and a modern representative in counter view, in another. The first, says Gulliver, seemed to be an assembly of heroes and demi-gods; the other a knot of pedlars, pick-pockets, highway-men and bullies.’

I grant indeed that there are precedents which you may plead—Instances where Ambassadors, and others in a similar character, have been imprisoned, nay, even murdered. But you will be pleased to remember, that this always happened through the violence of faction, or the brutality of some individuals. Every thing of this sort has been condemned by the united voice of mankind, as dishonourable, impious ^‡ and con­trary [Page 10] to the law of nations—has been disapproved and disowned by the very people who were the aggressors; and some of the bloodiest wars recorded in history were undertaken on this account. Provoked by such an insult, David, King of Israel, made war on the Ammonites, and took severe revenge. For this sole reason, the Romans entered into a war successively with the Veientes, Fidenates and Falisci, the Illyri­ans, Ligurians, &c. to say nothing of other nations. And were there no other cause for prosecuting the present war with rigour, your treatment of Lieut. Hele would sufficiently justify our Sovereign in doing so, until those were brought to reason who presumed thus to insult his officers, and trample on the law of nations.

There is perhaps no part of the law of nations which hath been held more sacred by mankind, or that hath been more strictly observed, than that which regards the protection and liberty of Ambassadors, and other messengers of peace, by whatever name distinguished, between hostile States. One instance—and one only —have I met with where it is said to be violated, with­out disapprobation, by any people:—It is by some of the savage nations of this continent. Charlevoix, speaking of some Indian tribes in North-America, when at war, says— ‘It becomes their Envoys or Plenipotentaries to exert their abilities and elo­quence; [Page 11] for if the terms they offer are not accepted of, they had need to stand on their guard. It fre­quently happens that a blow with an hatchet is the only return given to their propositions. They are not out of danger if they are even so fortunate as to avoid the stroke; they may expect to be pursued, and if taken, to be burnt.’ The ingenious Dr. Robertson's observation on this passage, is— ‘Men capable of such violence seem to be unacquainted with the first principles upon which the intercourse between nations is founded.’ Perhaps you will urge, that your conduct excells that of those Indians, respecting the messengers of peace—that seizing one of them is not so bad as knocking him on the head with an hatchet—nor putting him in a dungeon so atrocious as committing him to the flames. Be it so; yet our feelings are greatly hurt to find that christians and protestants are capable of acting a part which bears so near a resemblance to the brutal conduct of Savages—and in an instance where so very few, even among Savages, will give it any countenance. You must also allow on your part, that the Indians have the advantage of you in one respect: They permit the messenger of peace, who offends them, to depart, and thereby give him a chance for his liberty; where­as you instantly seize, and put him in durance.

And this reminds me of another observation which your conduct hath often suggested. Among civilized nations, war is carried on with little or no animosity. The same principles and knowledge which serve to refine and improve manners, in the peaceful scenes of social life, serve also to soften the horrors of war, and preclude rage and resentment from mingling with its operations. The reverse of this is the case of Sa­vages. Instigated with relentless rancour, with un­bounded insolence, to destroy and exterminate is their object. I am sorry to say that the wanton cruelty [Page 12] every where exercised on loyalists, and the insults with which they are treated—that the illiberal spirit, the rage and insolence which stimulate your Congress and their adherents, with very few exceptions, and mark their proceedings, give reason to compare your con­duct with that of Savages in this instance also.

Hitherto I have reasoned with you on the supposi­tion, that this country was actually, and of right, in­dependent—that your Congress were justly vested with supreme authority as the representatives of America, and had been unanimously chosen as such by all the Americans. Even on this supposition, your treat­ment of Lieut Hele would not only be unjustifiable, but highly criminal.

But surely, Sir, you cannot in the fond hour of your greatest self-importance and exaltation admit the supposition to be true. You cannot but know that King GEORGE WAS, and IS the rightful So­vereign of these colonies—that he still claims their allegiance—that a large majority of the colonists pre­fer his government to your tyrannical usurpation— that not a TWENTIETH part of them have voted for your Congress—and that the members of the Congress themselves, and their adherents, are revolted subjects of the British crown. These facts are certainly true, whether you will admit them or not; nor can the Congress, with all their subtil artifice and tyranny, conceal them, or obliterate them from the minds of the good people of America.

Consider these circumstances for a moment, and how do they aggravate your crime! In how detestable a light must your conduct appear! The Gentleman whom you imprisoned, was a messenger of peace from your injured Sovereign. In vain did the law of na­tions throw its shield over him, and promise him pro­tection: [Page 13] You spurned that law, and were deaf to his remonstrances. He brought the most liberal over­tures of accommodation—such as would make this country the happiest and freest upon earth: Yet equal­ly callous to the dictates of reason, duty, honour and humanity, you rejected those overtures with disdain, and doomed America to be a scene of war, desola­tion and wretchedness, rather than resign that ideal importance which the temporary infatuation of a few had conferred on you. Nay, you added insult to re­bellion. You not only shut the door against all fu­ture accommodation, so far as in you lay; but by an act ever held in detestation among civilized nations, and deemed the most provoking, you have justified the severest retaliation that Britain can make! Hither­to, her aim was to reclaim, not to destroy, or even to conquer: You have done all in your power to com­pel her to adopt different measures; and you have probably entailed on this country a war, whose de­solating ravages may not cease but with the utter ruin of America.

But I turn from the horrid subject with disgust; and as this letter is already protracted to a sufficient length, shall defer my strictures on the remaining part of your answer to some future opportunity.

IN my former strictures I pointed out how fla­grantly you had violated the law of nations by the detention and imprisonment of Lieutenant HELE of [Page 14] the Hotham sloop, bearing a flag of Truce. I shall now examine the remaining part of your ans­wer to Admiral GAMBIER's letter, where you at­tempt to justify a conduct which cannot be defended. This however is not the only instance wherein you have trampled on the law of nations and broken your public faith, in your independent capacity. Witness your breach of the stipulation at the Cedars, of the convention at Saratoga, which will ever brand the Congress with the blackest and most indelible infamy.

To manifest the injustice of your procedure, Ad­miral GAMBIER had urged, ‘That the resolution on which the Congress now wish to justify them­selves is subsequent in date to the fact of which they complain.’ You do not deny this fact, and consequently, admit the charge. This, of itself, is sufficient to expose the iniquity of your conduct; for what can be more contrary to justice, right, and reason, than to judge an action by a law which was made after the action was committed, and then pu­nish the person for that action, as if the law had been previously passed, and the action a voluntary trans­gression of it? Can any thing be conceived more ty­rannical?

A law may be defined— the will of those who are vested with authority, requiring certain actions, and forbidding others, and guarded or enforced by sanctions of rewards and punishments. An action, which is neither forbidden nor required by any law, is in its nature indifferent. We are permitted to do what is forbidden by no law; we may neglect whatever is not enjoined by any law; and hence that indubitable maxim— where there is no law, there is no transgres­sion. It evidently follows then, that laws, in order to be binding, should be sufficiently promulged or [Page 15] made known to those who are to obey them—and that a law cannot rightly take cognizance of any actions but such as are subsequent to its date or pro­mulgation.

This being the case, it is no wonder that Admiral GAMBIER, or any other person of integrity and good sense, whose object was truth, who was not conver­sant in the chicane of verbal disputation and sophistry, ‘should imagine it difficult in the eyes of the candid world to explain away that paragraph,’ ^* which I have before quoted. You have attempted to do this by saying— ‘that the resolution of Congress, au­thorising the seizure of the flag, being subsequent to the fact complained of in that resolution, re­quire (requires) no justification; the fact must neces­sarily precede both the complaint and the measures for preventing the consequences of the fact.’

Very well, Sir! and pray what then? Is this any answer to the Admiral's argument? or does it re­move the charge brought against you, viz. judging and condemning Lieut. HELE by a post facto law or resolution? Not in the least—His argument is un­answered, his charge unremoved. You have given us the cloudy subtilty of old schoolmen, joined to the disingenuous, perplexing quibble of sophists; but no refutation of the plea that was so justly urged against you: And if any man can extract one grain of consistent, sense or candour from this answer, he is welcome to it for his pains.

[Page 16]But let us take a nearer view of this dark response, and try to discover its meaning, if perchance it has any.

You say— ‘that the resolution of Congress, au­thorising the seizure of the flag, being subsequent to the fact complained of in that resolution, re­quires no justification.’ No, Sir! I am humbly of opinion it does. I think, and am confident the candid world will think with me, that it requires a very full and satisfactory justification. If you mean that seizing, trying and punishing a man for an action which was committed before the date of the law by virtue of which he is seized, and by which he is tried, condemned and punished—if you mean, I say, that this is a thing so evidently right and just in itself as not to stand in need of justification, it is an insult on the understanding of mankind; for there are few points perhaps in which mankind are better agreed than in reprobating such a procedure as unjust, cruel and tyrannical.—You condescend however to assign what, I presume, you intended should pass for a rea­son why "it requires no justification;" and certain­ly, a reader who is divested of prejudice, and capable of reasoning, would naturally expect one very cogent —for cogent it must be which could induce him to acquiesce in a position so extraordinary. What then must his disappointment and indignation be, when he finds that reason to be a poor, contemptible quibble! For, say you,— ‘the fact must necessarily precede both the complaint and the measures for prevent­ing the consequences of the fact.’

But, Sir, this is only a play upon words—a mere evasion. The charge exhibited against you was the punishing a man by a resolution, whose date was subsequent to the fact he was tried for. Your answer [Page 17] does not reach this charge; nor, if it did, would it justify you. Supposing what you say were univer­sally true, as your words imply, (though in many instances it is false) yet it shews no more than this —that on complaint of certain facts, it frequently happens, and it is proper that due measures be taken —pass laws, resolutions, &c.—to prevent the con­sequences of similar facts in future. All this was very evident before your involved reply made its appear­ance; but it can shew no more, with respect to the case in question, without contradicting the clearest principles of equity and justice—it does not shew that the action which preceded the resolution is rightly punishable by it.

Were your answer to be considered merely in the light of a casual repartee, which, by a jingle of words, would parry the attack of a brisk antagonist, it might pass without censure. But for a body of men who assume the respectable character of legislators, and patrons of liberty, truth and virtue, solemnly to advance such flimsy sophistry, in a matter of the utmost moment, and with the design of justifying an atrocious crime, is truly shocking; it discovers an utter disregard of truth, of the dignity of that character they assume; it manifests a consciousness of having a bad cause, which could not be vindicated by fair reasoning, and that the charge could only be eluded by quibbling. Away then with such trifling! It would disgrace and injure a good cause; it serves to make a bad one and its abettors more detestable; such men should not obtrude themselves thus on the world, which is too knowing to be amused with petulance and sophistry; they should retire where they ought, to their ploughs and trades; or repose with their quibbling brethren of the schools [Page 18] in the corner of a gothic cloister, dark as their un­derstanding, cold and unfeeling as their hearts.

A fact was alledged which contained a heavy charge against Congress; they admitted the fact, for it was too notorious to be denied. The proclamation in question was dated October 3; Lieutenant HELE, in the Hotham sloop, sailed from New-York with that proclamation the 5th of the same month, and two or three days carried him to the Delaware, where he was wrecked; The resolution of Congress, by virtue of which he was seized and flung into a dungeon, was dated October 16, several days after his disaster: Thus stands the fact, which you could not deny, but try to answer it by a play on the sound of words, and sneak off with the pitiful subterfuge we have been considering. Had you repeated those ludicrous lines—

They would have been as pertinent, fair and satis­factory an answer as the one you have returned.

The charge of seizing an officer with a flag of truce and punishing him by virtue of a resolution which was passed not only after the date of his dis­patches and his departure from New-York, but even after his arrival in Delaware, contrary to every principle of equity and justice—This charge, I say, remains in full force. You have prudently declined the vindication of it, and left it to shift for itself— But I hasten to the next part of your answer.

Admiral GAMBIER had said, ‘the Manifesto in question was addressed in the first instance to the Congress themselves, and could not possibly be se­ditious.’ [Page 19] This with the preceding facts and argu­ments had been urged, not only in opposition to what was asserted in your resolution of October 16, but to shew that your detention and imprisonment of Lieut. HELE was, in every point of view, and in all its circumstances, contrary to justice and reason. To this allegation, you answer, ‘that addressing the Manifesto in the first instance to Congress, does not prove that it was not seditious, since it was at the same time addressed to the several assemblies of the United States, to the clergy, to the officers of the American army, and to the people at large, which incontestably shews it to be seditious and unwarrantable.’

I apprehend that the contents, the purport and design of the manifesto should decide whether it was seditious or otherwise; and not the persons, of what description or number soever they might be, to whom it was addressed. Were this last to determine the point, as your words seem to intimate, then the Congress, by their own rule, have issued many se­ditious manifestos; for it is certain that long before they had thrown aside their allegiance, and whilst they were solemnly invoking heaven and earth to wit­ness the sincerity of their professions and loyalty, the Congress addressed several manifestos not only to the inhabitants of North-America, but to those of Great-Britain and Ireland, including all ranks and deno­minations. Is the Congress then, like the wicked servant, condemned out of its own mouth?

If we look into the manifesto we shall find its contents to be the reverse of seditious. It exhorts not to war or tumults, but to peace and order; it holds out the most liberal overtures for accommodation, a full redress of every grievance, would put a [Page 20] stop to the effusion of kindred blood, and arrest the ravages of war in their desolating career, and recom­mends these interesting matters to the "serious con­sideration of all." Is this the language of sedition? Is this the spirit it breathes? Are these the objects at which it aims?

But were the matter as you affirm, and the Com­missioners sent forth this manifesto with a seditious design, I must take the liberty to say, that they are unskilful proficients in the trade of sedition, and they ought to have profited by your example; for the world must allow that you, Sir, and your associ­ates are very able practitioners in that noble art. En­lightened by your tenets, and guided by your practice, they should have pursued measures totally different from those they adopted.

Let us however drop this point, and for the present suppose the manifesto was seditious, (making all due allowance for the bungling manner of the Commis­sioners on this plan) yet still your treatment of Lieut. HELE is utterly indefensible. The Manifesto, in the preamble, was first addressed to you; orders were also given that it should be delivered to you first —Circumstances which should fully remove all sus­picions of sedition, either in the contents or design.

You were vested with supreme power over the thir­teen united states, as you call them, and the Mani­festo was to come first into your hands. Were not you therefore to judge of its contents—to circulate or suppress them as you thought proper? You might receive or reject the Manifesto; but what right did this give you to punish the innocent officer who brought it by order of his superior, and who knew not the contents? Had Lieut. HELE been even detect­ed [Page 21] in circulating the manifesto privately, I have shewn from the practice of the Romans in an instance which not only comes up to that case, but goes beyond it, that you would not thereby be authorised to punish him; much less when he came without any such design, and was wrecked on his passage.

But say you— ‘the manifesto was addressed at the same time to assemblies, clergy, officers, and the people at large.’ True—the contents concerned all, was it not right therefore to reccommend them to the "serious consideration of all?" And had not you, to whom they were first directed, full power to give them currency, like your paste-board dollars, or over-rule them, as you pleased?

Here, Sir, your vindication is your reproach, and betrays a secret you have long strove to conceal. A subject happened to be touched which lay very near your heart—you took the alarm, and your frame was shocked. Nature got the better of your prudence, and the ruling passion which actuates you in all your measures, involuntarily starteth up to view. The vulgar proverb says— It is dangerous to talk of a halter before a man whose father was hanged—it is equally so, I find, to hint at any thing before usurpers, which even by a forced construction, might be thought to call their supremacy in question. The lust of domination is a very unruly passion; when it hath once taken possessi­on of the human breast, it will soon subjugate all others, break through every restraint, and push men on to perpetrate the greatest enormities.

Is then the doctrine of absolute passive obedience and non resistance so current among you already? and are you so eager to have it enforced? According to the fundamental articles of your system, the people [Page 22] are the fountain of all authority and power; this was a convenient doctrine till you were fairly and firmly seated on the pinnacle of power to which you aspired. But is it prudent to turn short so suddenly, and treat the people as your vassals, before the con­test is quite ended? Should you kick away the ladder so hastily? Or is it right to prevent the people from taking into "serious consideration," matters which next to their everlasting salvation, are of greatest mo­ment, and concern them most nearly? Is it right that the assemblies, who like yourselves, have waded through blood, perjury and rebellion—or the officers, who have hazarded their lives, to serve you, and minister to your despotism—is it right, I say, that they should have nothing to say or think in those matters? Why so jealous of them, or fearful that a ray of loyalty, or a pang of conscience should hazard their fidelity?

The clergy at least—for I have a prodigious vene­ration for them—deserve a little more delicacy and indulgence; for believe me they have made a great sacrifice in your cause. They have laid the gospel under a temporary interdict, and adopted principles directly opposite to it; they have thrown aside the spirit and manners of ministers of the Prince of Peace, and acted like the votaries of Mars, or disciples of Mahomet—and all this to help you. The pulpits of Dissenters universally throughout the continent, and those of a few renegado Churchmen to the southward, have resounded—not with the gospel, but with po­litics—not with meek lessons of peace, but with zea­lous exhortations to war—to stimulate the luke warm, animate the desponding, and warmly engage all in your interests. Consider this coolly, and then tell me, was it right to preclude those men from all con­sideration of this unlucky manifesto.

[Page 23]O! ye Americans, my deluded countrymen! Into what abyss of wretchedness have ye fallen! To be thus denied the privilege of rational beings, and treated like beasts of burden, by the very men whom your infatuation and folly have raised to their present arbitrary and tyrannical power!

"But hold." You cry — ‘Have we not recom­mended that the papers aforesaid, (meaning the manifestos) be printed in the several gazettes, more fully to convince the good people of these states of the insidious designs of the Commissioners.’ Very true, Sir. By looking into your famous resolution of October 16, I find you have done so; but you took care previously to give a decided judgment of those papers. You pronounced them ‘seditious—sent with a view to stir up dissentions, animosities, and rebellion among the people.’ You thus set them down in your index expurgatorius; and effectually prevented their being read to any good purpose.— Henceforward, every mouth was closed that would speak in their behalf, and every hand arrested that would move for their producing any salutary effect. The iron scourge of tyranny—fines, imprisonment or death, entirely restrained both. This you know was the case; and that the people were not per­mitted to deliberate impartially about them, or to act as they chose. The privilege of speaking or writing their sentiments, or acting according to their judge­ment, is reserved for your warm partizans only.

It is worthy of observation, how naturally people, engaged in the same pursuits, slide into the same mea­sures for effecting their purpose. JAMES II. intoxi­cated with the lust of domination, attempted, with the assistance of French papists—Plenipotentiaries and others—to subvert the constitution and liberties of [Page 24] Great-Britain and Ireland: Just as you, with the same instruments, would subvert the constitution and liberties of these colonies. When the Prince of Orange landed in England, in the memorable year 1688, he published a Declaration setting forth the danger of the nation, and his design of coming over to relieve it from thraldom. This Declaration fell into the hands of JAMES; and after inserting his judgment of it—that it was seditious—sent with a view to stir up dissentions, animosities and rebellion among the peo­ple—Like you, he recommended it to be printed and dispersed. I could point out the exactest resemblance between your measures, spirit and conduct, and those of the leaders in the grand rebellion in the last century; which indeed any person may do by consulting Cla­rendon's history. The present rebellion is the exact counterpart of that; begun on the same principles and carried on by the same arts of deception and vio­ence. In short, you seem to have studiously trodden in the steps, and copied the example of the rump Par­liament. We know its fate, and that of JAMES's manoeuvre; and I have the firmest confidence the the same kind providence, which then interposed to over-rule the designs of ambitious, bad men, and snatch the nation from destruction, will interpose now also, and work our deliverance.

But really, Sir, it is curious to near you exclaim against dissentions and rebellion, and those concerned in them—You, that are yourselves plunged in a most wanton rebellion against your rightful Sovereign—and to which you wholly owe your present consequence! ‘Thou that teachest another should not steal, dost thou steal?’ Methinks you might have profited better even by the Poet's satyr, and learnt from him not

"To hate for arts which caused yourselves to rise."

[Page 25]I shall candidly own to you, however, that I do not think much worse of you, than of British repub­licans in general. I never did, nor never shall expect better of them. Their character is uniform and de­cided; they have ever been turbulent and ambitious of power, and never failed to abuse it when it was in their hands; nor do I see any symptoms of their amendment. How it may be with foreign republi­cans, I shall not determine, nor am I concerned to know; but as for those of British growth, they will answer to the above description. In the course of my acquaintance with them, I can truly say, that I scarce ever knew a thorough-paced Republican of our own breed, who was not bitter in his temper—Perse­cuting and arbitrary in his principles—Impatient of restraint—or of a superior—proud and ambitious as Lucifer. Hence their enmity to the British constituti­on which sets bounds to those inordinate passions. Hence, for instance, the angry declamation of the modest and pious author or authors of Common Sense, (for some affirm that it had several; though one had assumed the honour, and bestowed on it the name, like him in the Gospel, only because he was the most forward D—l of the crew) Hence, I say, his or their angry declamation against the mutual checks of King, Lords and Commons on each other. The gentry of this stamp, do not chuse to have any check or con­troul. The real friends of liberty, are friends of the British constitution; where all the benefits of the three simple forms of government are obtained—and where the inconveniencies to which each is subject, are pre­vented by the mutual checks of the constituent parts, and happy temperament of the whole.

Your answer concludes with something on the subject of Retaliation, and delivered with that air of petulence and security which distinguish most of your [Page 26] productions. I am not disposed to enlarge on the matter at present, and shall only remind you of the two following well known events. CATALINE and his associates, for a considerable time, baffled the councils and arms of Rome, but were finally crushed CHARLES II, for several years, was deprived of his rights, and usurpers occupied his dominions, yet was happily restored. The application is obvious, and I leave you to make it.

BY contemptuously rejecting the late liberal overtures of accommodation—the most liberal perhaps that were ever held out by an injured Sovereign to revolted subjects, the Congress mean to continue the calamities of America; and by the violation of every obligation, human and divine, and adding the grossest insults to their other enormities, they seemingly intend to increase them.

Were these calamities confined to your partizans only, who have assisted to place you in the seat of usurpation, it would be a matter of little moment— they would only reap the fruit of their patriotic la­bours. But the innocent are equally involved with the guilty in the common ruin. Many thousands [Page 27] who utterly disapproved of your proceedings, or who were seduced by specious artifices, to favour your cause at first, or compelled by violence to sup­port it, now groan under a complication of miseries; to say nothing of the multitudes who have fallen victims to your ambition and cruelty, and whose blood cries for vengeance against you.

In each of these I find myself injured. That se­cret sympathy which connects the children of Adam, and interests them in each other's weal or woe, leads me to take part with those sufferers. By examining your proceedings therefore, and developing your characters, I only comply with the dictates of huma­nity, and discharge the duty of a good citizen to my fellow-subjects; for in proportion as you are known, you will be less dangerous. Unmask a deceiver, and his power to do mischief is at an end.

Men's characters are best known by their actions. Some parts of your conduct are of such a complex­ion, that I am confident your warmest admirers must condemn them, when fairly scrutinized and laid open—these also will lend a clue to your real cha­racter and shew it in the true point of light.—Let me add, since the thought now occurs—that whoever would make any considerable progress in that most necessary branch of science—a knowledge of human nature, must view it in its greatest obliquities and depravation, as well as in its more amiable attitudes. Our researches in this way may be disgusting, perhaps mortify our pride, but they are necessary for our in­formation; just as the dissection of diseased bodies, of vipers, vultures and wolves, is necessary to perfect the anatomist's knowledge—How happily furnished are you with proper subjects to carry on those re­searches!

[Page 28]Your flagrant violation of the law of nations in the affair of Lieut. HELE, the wretched sophistry and quibbling by which your Congress attempted to justify their iniquitous conduct, were made sufficiently evi­dent, I flatter myself, to every discerning reader, in my strictures on your answer to Admiral GAMBIER. Human nature is not capable of such a degree of effrontery as to deny the facts I alledged; and all my reasoning and conclusions necessarily followed from those premises. Another answer of yours, equally famous, requires some animadversion; the answer I mean is that to Sir HENRY CLINTON, dated Sept. 28, 1778, on the subject of the Convention Troops; and in which we trace a new line in the Character of the Congress. I give you, Sir, full credit for refusing to sign that answer; it shewed that all sense of decency and shame, at least in one member of Congress, was not extinguished. The answer however was really and truly that of Congress, authenticated by the sig­nature of Charles Thomson, Secretary, the usual index of their more trivial or dirty business.

In the Convention at Saratoga, it was stipulated,— ARTICLE 2d. ‘That a free passage be granted to the army under Lieut. General Burgoyne, to Great-Britain, on condition of not serving again in North-America during the present contest, and the port of Boston is assigned for the entry of transports to receive the troops, whenever General Howe shall so order.’

‘3. Should any cartel take place, by which the army under Lieut. Gen. Burgoyne, or any part of it may be exchanged, the foregoing article to be void, as far as such exchange shall be made.’ These two articles comprise all that relates to the final dis­posal or exchange of General Burgoyne's army, and they are very clear and definite.

[Page 29]Requisitions were repeatedly made by the King's commanders in chief, and commissioners, that Con­gress would fulfil those articles; but those requisitions were as often neglected, or evaded by a series of chi­cane, duplicity, and breach of public faith, unparal­leled even in Punic, and to be equalled only in Gallic history. A ratification of the convention by the King was demanded; although not a syllable of this was mentioned at the convention, or in its articles; and every man of common sense must know that a General in the field is perfectly competent to adjust whatever terms may be necessary, relative to his troops, in such an exigency as that of General Bur­goyne—a complaint from Gen. Burgoyne that you had violated the convention, was seized and shame­lessly made the occasion of your violating it still fur­ther—a silly tale about cartouch boxes was trumped up to elude your compliance—a pretended attempt to corrupt the congress furnished matter for another evasion. These, and other like pretexts (for I do not recollect them all) equally frivolous, absurd, and ridiculous, were alledged from time to time, to cover your perfidious breach of this treaty—your prostitu­tion of public faith and honour.

His Majesty sympathising with the sufferings of his troops, which the fortune of war had flung into your hands—willing to deliver them from so disagreeable a situation, and so far as he could, to remove all preten­ces for detaining them longer, instructed Sir Henry Clinton, to renew, and ratify, in his (the King's) name, the conditions stipulated by General Burgoyne. In consequence of this instruction, Sir Henry wrote the following letter, dated September 19, 1778, directed to you, and which, for obvious reasons, I shall transcribe.

The manly spirit and firmness, the good sense and humanity, the open candour and respectful decency, which run through this letter, are conspicuous, and do great honour to the writer. Your disregard of the treaty is mentioned, which was unavoidable; yet it is mentioned with the utmost delicacy, and in the style of a gentleman—a style with which the Congress seem to be little acquainted. To this letter, Sir Henry received the following Answer.

The lust of power which always actuates usurpers, and the timid jealousy which is natural to them, con­curred in dictating your answer to Admiral GAMBIER: But what shall I say of this answer to Sir HENRY CLINTON? I have looked into the laconic and other apothegms of Plutarch—I have turned over the Re­plies, Repartees, Rejoinders, Bon Mots, &c. of se­veral persons famous in their day, in the different walks of life; but this answer of yours surpasses them all: not in politeness, I confess, nor wit, nor poig­nancy, nor shrewdness, nor even in conciseness, short as yours is—but in downright unmixed brutality!

In private life, Sir, a gentleman is distinguished from a clown by his language and manners much more than by his dress; nor can he depart from the rules of decorum and good breeding without degrad­ing himself. In public characters, a regard to these rules is still more necessary—it is indispensible. When a man is called to a high station, and especially when be represents others; not only his personal dignity, but that of his station, and of those he represents, demands his attention; deviating from the rules of decorum and good breeding, cannot fail to bring con­tempt on his station, and on those he represents.

According to the assumed character of your Con­gress, you are the Representatives, the Supreme Le­gislators [Page 32] of the Thirteen United States of North-America —TWELVE, I should say, for alas! Georgia is gone! Consistently with that character, (for I now reason with you on your own principles) you should consider yourselves as indispensibly bound to support the public dignity of those States, however education or incli­nation may dispose you to rude language, to sordid or savage actions. When you speak, the people are sup­posed to speak by you, having chosen you on the presumption that you are best qualified to speak and act for them: and in whatever you do or say, the majesty of the people is brought forward, and ought to be supported.

Is this done in the present instance? A British Ge­neral of the first rank and character—not more dis­tinguished for his noble birth, than by his military ta­lents, and other personal accomplishments—writes a letter to your Congress, by the express order of his Sovereign, on business of great importance. His letter was confined solely to that business; and with respect to sentiment, spirit, and language, was per­fectly worthy of his character and exalted station. ^* How did you demean yourselves on this occasion? Regardless of all decency, as well as of public faith, you returned an answer which would disgrace a set [Page 33] of porters or savages! You were either ignorant, or did not consider, that it could not injure Sir HENRY; but must reflect infamy on yourselves, and on ‘the unhappy people whose affairs are committed to you.’ For my part I cannot look into this answer but Gulliver's idea of a ‘modern representative, which seemed to be—a knot of pedlars, pick-pockets, highway-men and bullies,’ obtrudes itself upon me: And were I even a friend to your inde­pendency, the point now in contest, I sincerely de­clare I would despise and detest the Congress for pro­stituting their own character by such methods, and sinking the reputation of America.

At present there are many strangers from different parts of Europe, in this country. You must naturally expect that these will narrowly watch the several parts of your conduct, and scan them with a critical eye. What opinion do you imagine must they form of America from this mean rusticity, this dishonour­able breach of public faith in its Grand Congress? Their reports will certainly reach Europe, where you are anxious to appear respectable, and form alliances. Do you think that their details of these matters will inspire the European states with much ardor to ac­cept of an alliance with you? Or are these the me­thods to command respect abroad, build up an em­pire at home, and take a distinguished place in the scale of nations? As well might you expect to realize the system of Utopia, or reconcile the most palpable contradictions.

Even the Syndic, or in plain English, the Town-Clerk of Strasburg, the Plenipotentiary of your great and good ally, must secretly despise you in his heart, whilst you thus strive to serve his master's cause, at the expence of honour and decency; for the French, [Page 34] to do them justice, understand the forms of good breeding, and are observant of them—they are liberal enough of good language when it costs them nothing, and can serve their purposes.

When you were so much Frenchified, and running into the bad qualities of that nation, why did you not catch a little of their politesse?

Instead of this, you have preposterously united Gallic perfidy with the coarse, ill-bred rusticity which is peculiar to the dregs of our countrymen!

I am ready to make all due allowance for the dis­tress of your situation. It was impossible to answer Sir HENRY's letter as it ought, and not comply with his requisition. But could you not turn it off with a little sophistry and quibbling, as in the case of Lieu­tenant Hele, rather than expose yourselves to the contempt of mankind by so brutal an answer? Was your invention so much jaded that nothing could be contrived to avoid the manners and language of ruf­fians? Might not something be conjured up against the convention troops that would have been as per­tinent, just, and weighty, as the affair of the cartouch boxes, to ease you of so heavy a load of scandal and reproach?

Sir HENRY CLINTON, hath intimated a reluc­tance ‘to trouble you or the Congress again on the subject of the convention troops.’ Probably he was convinced of your determination not to hearken to reason—that any further application would be fruitless—that nothing but insult could be expected from men who had repeatedly manifested a disregard of public faith, a want of delicacy and distinction of persons; and every one knows, that ‘a bear in the [Page 35] wilderness will as soon fix on a philosopher as on a cottager.’ In compliance, however, with the King's instructions, Sir HENRY wrote to you, and the event fully justified his apprehensions. With re­spect to you, this was one of those critical junctures which necessarily require a conduct and measures that develope the heart, and decide the character. You took your measures, and they were decisive on those points. We see the grotesque figure which men, new to power, and void of honour, are always ob­served to make on such occasions. We see that most disgusting species of pride and insolence—the low-bred insolence and pride of usurpers, who occu­py a station for which they are by nature, education and principle, utterly disqualified; and destitute of that address, those engaging polished manners which are necessary to soften, and reconcile to us the stern aspect of power.

I am not conscious of having represented your con­duct in this matter more unfavourably than it de­serves, or in a worse light than it will be viewed by every impartial man of sense and good breeding; even separate from your flagitious violation of the Sarato­ga convention. But when that consideration is added, it forms such a complication of perfidy and rudeness, as cannot be matched in the annals of any nation.

It was my intention to have added some furthet strictures on your manner of observing treaties; but want of time will not admit of it now—they shall wait on you some future day. In the mean time, I shall present you with the following extract from Plutarch's treatise concerning an ignorant, untutored ruler, that is, one disqualified for his station by na­ture and education. It is very pertinent to the sub­ject before us, and may serve to amuse you. After [Page 36] observing that those among the lower classes of man­kind, who are viciously inclined, cannot, through inability in their humble state, do much mischief; but when, by any accident, they are raised to power, prove very pernicious to society, Plutarch proceeds thus—

‘The vices of men vested with power cannot be concealed. For as persons who labour under a certain kind of epilepsy, are seized, when exposed to the cold, with a giddiness, and their disorder is betrayed by the agitation of their bodies; so, when fortune hath exalted vain and ignorant men, conferring wealth, honour, and power, on such upstarts, she also gives sure indications of their disposition and fall. Moreover, as among empty vessels, it is difficult to distinguish which is sound, or which is leaky; but on pouring in some liquid, those that have a flaw are discovered by the liquor flowing out; thus weak minds cannot bear pow­er—their flaws become manifest—they burst forth with inordiuate desires, in acts of rage, ar­rogance, perfidy, and petulant folly.’

I have given you the text—you cannot be at a loss where to find a comment.

YOU would probably think yourself neglected, and unjustly deprived of that notice to which you are entitled, were I to pass you over in silence when ex­amining the conduct of your Congress.—Certain it is that some transactions of that body since you were dig­nified with the title of its President, deserve the serious attention of all Americans. As you have succeeded to the seat lately occupied by Mr. Laurens, I hope he will not be displeased if I direct my future correspondence to you. He has no juster claim than you to my no­tice; and happily for me, who have no talent for adulation, I find myself under as little temptation of the kind when writing to the one as to the other. Besides, as Mr. Laurens may by this ^* time have some troublesome visitants pretty near him, he will have something else to amuse him.

I frankly own it is with pain I address you as a usurper. Your first prepossessions led you a very [Page 38] different way from what you have been lately, and are now pursuing. The morning of your life was serene and bright. Science discovered to your open­ing mind the road which leads to eminence and hap­piness. You imbibed generous principles of virtue and honour, of religion and liberty, if at certain intervals some sallies appeared which indicated ma­lignity of temper, or inordinate pride and ambition, the partiality of your friends willingly attributed them to the ardour and inexperience of youth; whatever shade they might throw over your better qualities, yet the latter, joined to the abilities for which you had credit, were supposed to overbalance them; for your talents, though not the most shining, were sufficient to gain respect, and make you a useful member of society.

Those transient ebullitions of ambition, malignity and pride were clearly perceived by the more discern­ing, and considerably damped their expectations of your future worth; nor were they deceived. Unfor­tunately for you, the troubles of this unhappy period presented an occasion for calling those dark passions into action; cherished at the same time by your con­nections with bad, unprincipled men, they soon ac­quired strength, laid your virtues prostrate, and gave the predominant colour to your character. Tired and dissatisfied with the sober path of loyalty, and duties of a good citizen, you aspired to be among the founders of a new empire. You entered indeed with reluctance into the detestable schemes of the babel builders of Congress; and no wonder, for they were directly opposite to all your first principles. But your efforts to subdue those principles have been so success­ful that you now figure among the foremost in the glorious work of rebellion, and ruining your country.

[Page 39]It would seem however that you still have some severe conflicts. Men cannot easily eradicate their former impressions, nor become wicked in the extreme all at once. A troublesome guest within them, will, in the calm hour of reflection, be obtruding advice, remonstrating against their conduct, and laying open their guilt. Accordingly, you have repeatedly de­clared that in your political conduct you KNEW that you sinned; but always gallantly added— and by G-d I am determined to sin on! Agitated thus between the lust of power and a sense of duty, goaded by ambition and checked by conscience, your situation is truly dreadful! The perpetual dictatorship of America would be a poor compensation for the anguish and ter­rors that are inseparable from it. You are a melan­choly proof how dangerous it is to depart knowingly from the path of rectitude; and I must tell you that the gentleman who grew tired of buckling and un­buckling his shoes, and therefore hanged himself, found out a more effectual, and less pernicious method of removing his discontent.

I mention these things as they afford a useful lesson to those who would study human nature, and guard against the irregular motions of the heart, which may carry us, if not restrained, to the most desperate ex­tremities. Such as feel the force of those generous attachments which are contracted in youth, will readily make allowance for my enlarging on them; for I really lament your deviations from rectitude and duty.

You are now seated in the president's chair, and have reached the summit of that power to which you aspired—as high, at least, as it would be convenient to avow at present. Soon after your exaltation, a scene was brought forward which was very trying and difficult. Like some other late occurrences, it impo­sed [Page 40] a necessity on your Congress of taking measures which were decisive of their character and designs, and exposed things to public view, which they would willingly have concealed.

Your officious friend, Mr. Paine, happened to make this wonderful discovery—that the Congress was fallible, and that its members, like other folks, could pursue their private interest and emolument to the detriment of the public. This discovery was so new and extraordinary to him, that he made it known to the world; and considering the sugar-plumbs with which he had so long treated the Congress, this must have been a very bitter pill to them.

But this was not all. Among other things he flung out some hints which the Syndic i. e. the Town Clerk of Strasburg, deemed incompatible with the views of his master. That these colonies should have the privilege of making the best terms for themselves, and settling the contest with Britain in the manner that would be least injurious to their honour and in­terest, however reasonable in itself, yet Mr. Gerard well knew was never the design or purpose of the French king. For two centuries past, France hath been the common incendiary of Europe—the plague of every neighbouring state, by interfering and em­broiling their affairs, to serve her own ambitious pur­poses. She is now playing the same game in America that she played a thousand times before in Europe; but had ‘the United States preserved the liberty of treating with Great-Britain separately from their ally, as long as Great-Britain had not declared war against M. Gerard's master,’ as Mr. Paine sug­gested, M. Gerard was conscious that the designs of his master and of France would be wholly defeated. Accordingly, the Syndic took fire at the pretended [Page 41] indignity offered to his master, and demanded an explanation from the Congress.

With all the despotic power exercised by your Con­gress, they were afraid to disavow so just and equita­ble a position; they were still more afraid to hazard the subsequent declaration which rivetted the chains of America, and must rouse the indignation of all who possessed any sense of national dignity or British freedom. You therefore evaded the demand for some time; but M. Gerard was peremptory, and at last bullied you into a compliance. You first explicitly disavowed the obnoxious publications of Mr. Paine, and the assertions contained in them; and among others, the liberty of treating with Britain, above mentioned. This was done Jan. 12th; but the Syndic, who was no stranger to the art of chicane and duplicity, and therefore the better qualified to guard against yours, was not satisfied with this disavowal, although into the bargain, Paine was sacrificed to his resentment. Even your obsequious epistle could not sooth him, un­til something more explicit—something that would more effectually serve his master's designs, was pro­duced. You were compelled to give way, and, like a French Parliament registering an Edict, you resol­ved as follows, Jan. 14.—

‘Whereas it hath been represented to this House by the Hon. Sieur Gerard, Minister Plenipotenti­ary of France, that it is pretended the United States have preserved the liberty of treating with Great Britain separately from their ally, as long as Great Britain shall not have declared war against his master; therefore resolved unanimously, That, as neither France or these United States may of right, so these United States will not, conclude either [Page 42] truce or peace with the common enemy, without the formal consent of their ally first obtained.’

It were needless to dwell on the palpable contra­diction between this resolve and your declarations to the British Commissioners, or even the articles of al­liance with France which you were pleased to publish formerly. Such inconsistency cannot now disgrace the Congress. One alledged cause for your entering into this rebellion was the legal toleration of Popery in Canada, according to the express stipulation of a public treaty; yet you afterwards offered a compleat establishment of their religion to the Canadians, pro­vided they would join in the rebellion—You solemn­ly appealed to Heaven for the sincerity of your pro­sessions when declaring yourselves loyal, affectionate subjects of the King; and you made the same solemn appeal when declaring that he was a most execrable tyrant, and that you would have no further connecti­on with him. I could adduce many other instances of the same kind to shew that the above contradiction is of a piece with the rest of your conduct, which is marked in every part with duplicity and deceit. To what a blessed situation have you reduced the Ame­ricans by this mode of procedure when you tell them that they have not preserved, nor must they even pretend they have preserved the liberty of making a truce or peace without the formal consent of France! When in such a state of thraldom to France, what can remain of any value!

The peculiarity of your situation in this business is worthy of notice. By the perfidious revocation of the edict of Nantz, contrary to public faith and ho­nour, the fury of Popish bigotry, armed with secular power, was let loose against the protestants of France. Not less than a million of them were put to the sword, [Page 43] or banished into foreign countries; besides many millions more who were compelled to abjure their religion. Among others, your ancestors were driven from their native land; stript of all their property, like poor loyalists in our day, they sought an asylum in the British dominions. They found an hospitable reception in America, a part of those dominions, and full protection from their relentless persecutors. How perverse your destiny, Sir, to be made the instrument of insulting the memory, the faith and fortitude of these your pious ancestors, by now crouching to their persecutors, by pronouncing their protectors your enemies! Were I capable of harbouring the most rancorous malice, and were that malice directed against you, it could not be more amply gratified than by the part you acted on this occasion, as spokesman of the Congress—offering incense to, and throwing your­selves at the feet of, that insidious crown which has extinguished liberty, and extirpated the protestant religion in all its territories—and at the same time, not only outraging, but like paricides, impiously plotting the ruin of your parent state, where more liberty exists than in any other state in christendom, and which is the principal support of the protestant religion!

But whatever disgrace this affair may reflect on you, and on the Congress, its consequences are more seri­ous and fatal to the American colonists—according to your resolve, they are in a state of vassalage to France. You have declared that they cannot of right, and shall not conclude either truce or peace with the common enemy, i. e. with their rightful sovereign, without the formal consent of their ally, meaning the French King, first obtained. So that whatever overtures are made by Britain to the colonies, however beneficial or honour­able to them, it matters not. As long as its suits the ambition, caprice, interest or policy of France, so [Page 44] long must the colonists wage war with their brethern, and embrue their hands in kindred blood, even al­though the utter destruction of both should be the inevitable consequence! It will not therefore be ex­aggerating or going beyond the truth, when I confi­dently pronounce, that the Congress, so far as in them lay, have betrayed these colonies, with their dearest interests, to France, and delivered them up to her vassalage.

Were you to reply with your usual chicance and sophistry— ‘That France is equally bound with the colonies; and that allies usually engage not to de­sert each other’ —it could only impose on such as are ignorant or weak. Your case is totally different from that of France. France is not in a state of re­volt; she is not dependent on any other power; she has in herself great resources of men and money; her government is despotic, and none of her subjects are disaffected.

The reverse of this in every particular is your case, save only in the article of despotism, which is a sure indication of weakness in you, however it may enable France to exert her strength. You are in a state of revolt against your rightful sovereign; and whatever tone or air of confidence you may assume, a consci­ousness of this preys on your heart, and depresses your spirits; your inglorious alliance with France, by which you lie at the mercy of that perfidious pow­er, is a demonstration of your dependence on her for supplies; the wretched state of your paper currency clearly shews how your resources stand in the article of money; and as for men, you cannot raise an army without compelling those to take arms who should cultivate the earth; and this in a little time must pro­duce a famine, as it necessarily would in any other [Page 45] country, which was circumstanced like America; the colonists are divided as to the object you have in view; and a majority of them, beyond all doubt, pre­fer a constitutional union with Britain, to a nomi­nal independency, and pernicious alliance with France.

I dare appeal even to yourself for the truth of these several facts; and any person of plain understanding may readily see the consequences. Your weakness compelled you to fly for succour to France; and the longer the war continues, you must grow proportion­ably weaker, and more dependent on her; and this dependence will give her an intire ascendency and power over you.

Nay, more. You have contracted a large debt to France. Your resolve undeniably proves what was well known before—that you have MORTGAGED this counntry for that debt—a mortgage which France will take care to continue; for as that debt will unavoidably increase whilst this contest subsists, (your trade being already ruined) the French King must in the end, according to your blessed schemes, be Lord Paramount and Proprietor of North-Ameri­ca. So that every American who is fighting against Britain, may have the pleasure to reflect, that altho' he is riveting the shackles, and labouring for the ut­ter ruin, of this country, yet he is extending the em­pire and glory of the grand Monarque.

Go then, Sir, and tell your deluded partizans that France is equally bound with you, and you should not de­sert your ally. Such an alliance, in your circumstances, is nothing but servitude, and must end in the destruc­tion of America; and those who will be duped by such sophistry—who wilfully shut their eyes at the [Page 46] disgrace and impending ruin of their country, and will not exert themselves to avert them, deserve no better fate than to become vassals of France, and wear wooden shoes. I will venture to affirm that France has too much policy to desire more of you, for the present, than she has gained already, in point of submission. She would check any further advances on your part, as subversive of her designs; just as the Pope disapproved of the precipitate measures of JAMES II, which, in fact, defeated the purposes of both.

This is not the language of prejudice, but of truth; nor is there a proposition in Euclid more evident or demonstrable than that America must be enslaved and ruined, on the plan you have laid. My consolation is, that Britain, which first settled, indulgently fos­tered, and fully protected this country, is still able, with the blessing of providence, to wrest it from the usupation of its domestic, and perfidious intrusion of its foreign, enemies.

Britain has frequently humbled the pride, checked the ambition, and subdued the power of France; she never was in a better condition to do so than at this instant. Notwithstanding your fond dreams, and false insinuations that she was exhausted and help­less, sad experience will soon bring you conviction of the contrary. Never at any period was her com­merce more flourishing, her wealth greater, her fleets so formidable, or her armies more gallant or nume­rous. Your deceit and specious pretences indeed di­vided her councils for a time; and this, with the mild spirit of her government, has protracted your usurpation beyond all rational expectation. You have now dissolved the charm by throwing off your mask, and I most cordially thank you for the service you [Page 47] have done. Whatever divisions may arise from the clashing of personal interest in the British Parliament, where perfect freedom of debate is indulged, yet ALL are now sufficiently united in the main point. The strength of Britain will be no longer shackled or re­strained; and when let loose, you will find her le­nity, not your own resources or power, prevented this most detestable and wanton rebellion from being long since crushed.

WHILST preparing to pay my Respects to Mr. Jay, according to promise, a friend put the following Address into my hands. It would be in­justice to the Public to deprive them of it; I there­fore send it to be inserted in your next paper, and earnestly recommend it to the perusal of my fellow-subjects. If the affectionate zeal, truth and sincerity which breathe in this address—if the alarming, tho' just picture of our deluded brethren's situation, here delineated, cannot awaken them to a sense of their danger; I must conclude that they are under a judi­cial blindness. Their case would resemble that of some Northern Barbarians, in the days of TA­CITUS, of whom he says, in his nervous, sententi­ous language— non modo a libertate, sed etiam a ser­vitute [Page 48] d generant. ^* i. e. ‘They degenerate not only from liberty, but even from slavery’ — submitting to a state in which disgrace and infamy were super­added to servitude.

THE anxiety I feel for your welfare, and my apprehensions of the ruin which is now hang­ing over you, induce me to address you, notwith­standing the difficulties and discouragements that lie in the way to prevent it.

Your present rulers are labouring to keep you in the dark. They not only conceal from you the most important transactions relative to America, in which they are concerned themselves; but they do all in their power to hinder you from receiving informati­on from any other quarter, either respecting your own situation or the true state of things in Europe. If a person goes out of the British lines, a guard is set over him and you are not permitted to converse with him. If a news-paper or pamphlet from hence, hap­pens to find its way among you, you are obliged to read it privately and then hide it. Every man has a tyrant at his door, watching over him with the most suspicious jealousy. You are denied even the freedom of speech, and cannot communicate your sentiments with safety; much less are you suffered to act as your judgment and inclinations would lead you. The In­quisitors [Page 49] of Spain, Portugal and Rome are not more diligent to keep their deluded vassals in profound ig­norance; or to prevent Gospel truth from reaching them, which would dispel the thick cloud of super­stition and error that covers them; than your Com­mittee and Congress men, your rulers in general are, to keep you in ignorance of your real state, and pre­vent your eyes from being opened to see your present danger.

Besides all this; I must tell you that some of your­selves are willing to be imposed on, and to believe the specious lies that are invented to deceive you. You will account him your enemy that would tell you the truth; you will pronounce him a wicked Tory, and that he is inimical to his country! But is this right, my brethren? Should you not listen to truth? Do you not sin against the God of truth and your own souls; when you wilfully turn a deaf ear to it? Is it not right that you should know the true state of your affairs—what you have to depend on—and what will be the real consequences of the measures that are now pursuing?

All men have their prejudices; and whoever is sensible of his own, will be ready to make due al­lowance for those of others. Notwithstanding the prejudices which have influenced you, yet I know you so well, that I can safely rely on your candour and good sense for an answer to the above questions. I am sure the language of your hearts, is, that you should know those particulars—that you should listen to truth.

You heartily lament with me the error, bondage and slavery which have, and do now overspread so great a part of the earth. However tyrants may have [Page 50] been blamed for this, yet I may affirm, that all the tyrants in the universe could not accomplish it, had not the people themselves been devoted to them; had they not been averse to the means of information, attentive to plausible delusions, and submissive to the yoke of slavery. To these causes we should princi­pally refer the Heathen, Mahometan and Popish Su­perstition which hath formerly, and does now pre­vail in the world; as well as the despotism under which so many of our fellow creatures have groaned. Nor is it possible for you, my countrymen, to avoid the yoke of despotism now, and probably the shackles of Popish superstition, and counting beads, unless you open your eyes, think and act for yourselves as becomes free-men.

I do not desire you to take my word, or believe my assertions on these points, further than they are sup­ported by plain facts and clear reasoning. But th [...] I expect that you will assent to such facts and rea­soning when laid before you; that you will act as unbiassed reason and your interest direct in conse­quence of them; that you will not be the dupes of prejudice, the tools of crafty, designing men, who have already deceived you often; and whose interest and consequence entirely depend on your being still under a deception.

If it should be any satisfaction to you, I can de­clare with the sincerity of a martyr, that my aim in addressing you now, is to promote your welfare by warning you of your danger, and the ruin that is hastening towards you. I have no interests that class with, or that are separate from, yours. Hav­ing from my infancy imbibed generous principles of freedom, I cordially detest tyranny in every shape, and from whatever quarter it may come. In my [Page 51] choice, I would fly to the uttermost parts of the earth to find a spot where I could enjoy rational li­berty, which I esteem the greatest blessing; rather than submit to the tyranny and oppression of any man, or body of men.

Yet righteous as my intentions are, and undeni­ably aiming at your benefit, I would not venture to address you now, were I not certain that your own feelings will, in some degree, convince you of your dangerous situation, and powerfully second what I have to say. Tyranny may stiffle the voice of com­plaint, or shackle the body—Deception may, for a while, by its bewitching influence, lead us in the path of error and destruction; but neither of them can suppress our feelings under injuries and oppressi­on. To your feelings therefore, to your reason, and to that knowledge you have acquired, even excluded as you are from the proper means of informations be the appeal for what I shall offer.

I said, that you have been often deceived; and pray reflect, is not this the case? Recollect the first rise of this unhappy contest with the parent state, when you were actually the most free and happy people upon earth. Your Congress then solemnly appealed to heaven and to you, that they were loyal and affecti­onate subjects of GEORGE III.—that they disclaimed every idea of independency—that none but enemies could suggest they aimed at it—that their interest and happiness depended on a constitutional union with Great-Britain—and that their sole object was to obtain a redress of those greviances which they either apprehended, or pretended to suffer.

In the simplicity of your hearts, you believed those declarations. But were you not deceived? Are you [Page 52] not convinced that your leaders imposed on you? That revolt and rebellion were in their hearts, whilst their declarations were filled with professions of loy­alty to the king, and attachment to the parent state? With such artifice and subtility did they conduct matters, that it was next to impossible for the bulk of the people to penetrate into their real designs. To hint that the Congress had any thoughts of indepen­dency, would endanger a man's life. In the spring of 1776, a gentleman came from Philadelphia to this city, and reported that the Congress were delibera­ting on that point. The committee of safety took fire at the calumny, ordered a search to be made for the gentleman, who, to save himself from the fury of the mob, was obliged to take sanctuary on board of one of the King's ships: yet the declaration of inde­pendency was published the July following! But to proceed:

The Congress declared that a redress of grievances was the only object they had in view; and when that was obtained, all discord would cease. You believed this also; yet when that redress was offered by the King's Commissioners—when terms more liberal than the most sanguine republican could have hoped for, were held out, they were rejected by Congress with the utmost contempt and disdain. The truth is, they had so entangled themselves with France, had MORTGA­GED these Colonies so deeply to that insidious power, and the members of the Congress carried on so gain­ful a traffic, that they did not chuse, and would not break off the connection.

By the loud declamations of your Congress-Patri­ots against oppression and taxes, you were taught to believe that they were the most disinterested of men, and aimed only at the public good; that all oppression [Page 53] and taxes would soon be at an end, and a free trade carried on with the whole world. All this you swal­lowed, and believed it to be as true as the gospel. Yet these disinterested patriots are now trading on your credit, and raising immense fortunes at your expence. I appeal to the publications of Messrs Deane, Paine, Morris, and others in Philadelphia, for the truth of this; and were that whole mass of corruption fully uncovered, it would astonish the world. You find those pretended enemies of oppression, the most unre­lenting oppressors, and their little finger heavier than the King's Loins. Instead of an exemption from taxes, you are fleeced more than any other people this day on the face of the earth. In some provinces, a person who formerly—in the woeful days of Royal Oppression—paid annually 10l. in taxes, now in the time of Congressional liberty and exemption from taxes, pays annually 1200l. in taxes, and so on in propor­tion! Nor is there any prospect of this ending. Were every improved farm, and all the vacant lands in the thirteen united states, set up at public auction, were they sold at the price which lands sold at in the year 1772, yet the sum total would not amount to the quantity of paper dollars, and other bills of credit which are now circulating among you: And this quantity of paper money, joined to the millions due to France, and the necessary expence of your govern­ments, must entail an insupportable load of taxes on America, for ages to come, and overwhelm it with ruin! It is needless to tell you that you have not a free trade. Scarcely can any of your skulking sloops peep out of an inlet, or a French interloper appear on our coasts, but they are instantly seized by a British cruizer, or a Tory privateer.

If it should be replied, ‘that the above advanta­ges could only be expected when independency was [Page 54] established, and the war at an end:’ I answer— that if independency was established, and the war ended to-morrow, yet the debt due to France must be paid, unless the Congress mean to defraud the French, as they defrauded the British merchants to whom the Americans owed large sums when the rebellion began. I answer again, that the above mass of paper money and bills, is now in actual circulation, and must either be sunk by taxes, or sink of itself; besides the expence of supporting the new governments, which could not be less than three millions sterling annu­ally and must be raised by taxes; for the Congress have acted just like a spendthrift heir who came too early to his estate, and madly involved himself in such a debt, that the income of his estate cannot pay the interest, nor its intrinsic value discharge the principal. I answer further—that independency is now a mere dream, a phantom. The Congress have so entwined themselves with France, that were even the British power set aside, they could not break loose from the former. If not dependent on Britain, the Colonies must be dependant on France; and were the Congress now to declare LOUIS XVI, sovereign and liege Lord of North-America, it would not shock or surprize me so much as their Resolve of Jan. 14, 1779.— ‘That as these united states may not of right, so they will not conclude either truce or peace with the common enemy, without the formal consent of their ally first obtained.’

I appeal to any man of plain understanding, whe­ther a declaration of the Congress that the French King was King of North-America, would he near so inconsistent with this Resolve, or so great a stride from it, as this Resolve is inconsistent with, and distant from, the repeated declarations of the Congress, long after this contest began. The powers of Britain and [Page 55] France now stand in the way of your independency; if the Congress can remove those powers, they may accomplish the point; but I apprehend they will meet with equal difficulty in doing this, as the man did in finding a place to fix his machines on to heave the earth from its place. But I return to the point from which I digressed to answer this objection.

To induce you to take up arms, and join in rebel­lion against your King, you were told at first that the rebellion would soon be over. Some of you rea­dily believed this—you thought it would only be a short frolick—that it was very clever to wear a cock­ade and regimentals— when you could get them, and strut after a drum and fife. But here also you were deceived. After all your struggles, and the loss of at least 60,000 lives on your side, by the sword, or sickness, the contest is not yet ended.

You were made to believe at the beginning of each campaign, that it would be the last. You were told that New-York would certainly be evacuated last fall—last Christmas—or this spring at the very fur­thest; yet you may be assured there is no more in­tention of evacuating New-York, than there is to evacuate London.

You have been assured a thousand times that Britain was helpless and exhausted—destitute of men and money—unable to carry on the war longer, and must give up the contest. But you have been as egregiously deceived in this as any of the former par­ticulars, and perhaps it is the most fatal deception of any. Britain cannot now give up the contest—the Congress have put it out of her power. She must exert herself to prevent the colonies from becoming an accession to the power of France, were there no [Page 56] other reason. She never abounded more in resources for carrying on a war than at this instant—in wealth, commerce and credit. No less than 77,000 seamen were in the King's service last November; that num­ber has been much increased since, and her land forces are in proportion. As she is thus able, so also is she fully determined to prosecute this war with vigour. When roused by injuries or insults, she hath frequently made her enemies tremble in every quarter of the Globe; nor have I the least doubt but she will, with the blessing of heaven, make her do­mestic and foreign enemies sorely rue their ungrateful, perfidious conduct in the present contest.

It would be impossible to enumerate every instance in which you have been thus deceived. Whenever any advance was to be made towards Rebellion— when any arbitrary, oppressive measure, which might raise an alarm, was to be carried—when an army was to be raised, or any other step taken to serve the purposes of the Congress, a monstrous lie was invented and circulated, and you generally were the dupes of those artifices, and swallowed the bait. Thus have you been gradually led on to your present deplorable situation, and brought to the very brink of ruin.

This, as far it goes, is a faithful and just repre­sentation of your state; for much remains yet to be mentioned. Were I even your enemy, I could not forbear commiserating it; but as your friend I sin­cerely lament it. O what a mass of happiness— what blessings and privileges have you wantonly and foolishly flung away! How grating must your reflecti­ons be, whilst comparing your present with your form­er state. Esan sold his birth right for a mess of pot­tage; but you have sold the birth right of British [Page 57] subjects—You have exchanged freedom, security and wealth, for oppression, misrule and beggary, and for vassalage to France! Your farms, your estates and property are actually MORTGAGED to France. You plow and sow, you labour and toil, you fight and bleed for France, and for those who have betrayed you to France—Your Congress! Your grain, your tobacco, your produce of every kind, your cattle and lumber, must go for vile paper dol­lars, which are no better than so many old rags! How long are you to remain in this disgraceful, wretched situation? Where, my Countrymen, where is that good sense, that innate love of freedom for which you were once famed? Are they totally ex­tinguished? Can you indeed submit to be the tools of French Papists—to be doomed to poverty and ruin by a Congress, which is a creature of your own making, whilst its members are FATTENING ON YOUR SPOILS?

But me thinks I see a flaming patriot, who shares in those spoils, or derives all his consequence from your misfortunes—methinks I see him knit his brow, and foaming with rage at what I say, declare to you most positively, that I am a cursed Tory—that all I tell you is a parcel of lies—that I only mean to sow dissention among the Americans, and thereby serve the cause of Britain, which has now no other hope of success.

Just like this patriot, with similar designs, and equally contrary to truth, did the first promoter of rebellion declare positively to Eve, ‘Ye shall not surely die; for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened; and ye shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil.’ I could easily point out a parallel between the argu­ments here used, and those which are usually urged [Page 58] by false patriots on such occasions as the present; and also too near a resemblance between the consequences of hearkening to each.

Believe me, my Countrymen, that Britain stands not in need of my feeble aid; and as for dissentions, they already abound among you, God wot, as much as the most determined enemy of the Congress could wish. The greatest part of those particulars, I know to be true; and have such evidence of the rest, as leaves me in no doubt about them. Nay, I appeal to yourselves for the truth of them. Consult your own experience, your feelings, your memory and reason; listen to them, if not to me. They will tell you much more than I have yet related. You ought to profit something by the knowledge you have of these matters, for you have paid very dearly for it. Whe­ther it is more consistent with the character of rational beings, to attend the dictates of reason and that knowledge, and act as they and your interest require; or still to be the dupes of artful deceivers, and tread the destructive path of rebellion and slavery into which they have led you, I leave you freely to de­termine. I am your sincere friend,

ON carefully reviewing the conduct of your Congress, I find a remarkable conformity be­tween it and the rules laid down by Machiavel in his well known treatise, intitled, THE PRINCE. As it may contribute to place the character of the Con­gress in a true light, I shall in this letter point out some of the instances in which that conformity is so evident, that it must strike the dullest observer.

However the world may be divided as to the mo­tives which induced Machiavel to write that Trea­tise, yet all agree that it contains the most execrable doctrines. It teaches the various methods by which usurpers may arrive at power, and afterwards retain it.—Deceit, treachery, assassination, poison, a dis­regard of oaths, and all other obligations whatever, are among the several lessons here inculcated, and of which usurpers are to avail themselves.

Machiavel professedly holds up Caesar Borgia, or as he was commonly called, Duke Valentine, for a model which all usurpers should copy. ‘I know no better pattern, says he, that can be proposed for the imitation of a new Prince.’ ^* i. e. an usurper. After giving a detail of Borgia's schemes and ac­tions, [Page 60] Machiavel adds, ‘upon a review of the Duke's actions, I see nothing worthy of reprehen­sion in them; on the contrary, I have proposed them, and here propose them again, as a pattern for the Imitation of all such as arrive at dominion by the arms and fortune of others.’ ^†

It will be proper to give some particulars of the man's character who is so earnestly recommended as a pattern to others. Caesar Borgia was the natural son of Pope Alexander VI; and a more ambitious, persidious or cruel monster perhaps never disgraced humanity. Ambition was the reigning passion of his mind; to gratify it, he stuck at nothing, how­ever infamous. Borgia assassinated his own brother, and ordered his dead body to be thrown into the Tyber. He caused the Pope's Swiss guards to be assassinated to revenge himself on that nation for a pretended affront. He deprived hundreds of their property by violence to satiate his avarice; he de­posed the Duke of Urbino, and took possession of his territories; he murdered several Lords of the Ursini family because they were obstacles to his greatness, after he had decoved them to an interview by the warmest professions of freindship; he caused a Venetian Lady of quality, whom he had ravished, to be flung into the Tyber and drowned. In short, to use the King of Prussia's strong language, ‘He was the most abominable monster that Hell ever vomited out upon the earth.’ ^‡ Machiavel re­lates most of these particulars, and knew many more no less infamous, though he recommends Bor­gia as a pattern for imitation!

[Page 61]Be not startled, Sir, nor think I lay my charge too high in saying that your Congress have acted on the principles laid down in a treatise which proposes this wretch for a pattern. Borgia himself might not see the foulness and turpitude of his actions in the same light that others saw them. Blinded by irregular passions, and heated by ambitious pursuits, a deceitful veil was thrown over his crimes, nor did he take time to reflect on them. This may also be the case of others.

I desire no one to regard or apply the present charge further than it is supported by plain facts. I do not aver that every member of the Congress sat down deliberately and read over Machiavel's PRINCE on purpose to practice his precepts. This is not my meaning, nor was it necessary. Usurpers in China, in Italy, and in America, actuated by the same spirit, and having the same object in view, might naturally fall on the same methods of attain­ing that object. I do not assert that poisoning, treachery and assassination have been practised here exactly as they were in Italy when Machiavel wrote. The present times would not well admit of, nor bear this. For as Montesquieu observes, ‘we be­gin to be cured of Machiavelism; moderation is become necessary—what would formerly have been called a master-stroke of politics, would now, independent of the horror it might occasion, be the greatest imprudence.’ ^‖ When Montes­quieu wrote, he knew nothing of the American Congress, or their proceedings.

But other expedients may be found, equally sub­servient to the purposes of usurpation, without ex­citing so much horror—such as tarring and feather­ing, [Page 62] riding of men on rails by mobs and Commit­tees, which mobs and committees were the principal fabricators and supporters of the congress in the be­ginning —such as chaining men together by dozens, and driving them, like herds of cattle, into distant provinces, ^¶ flinging them into loathsome jails, con­fiscating their estates, shooting them in swamps and woods as suspected tories, hanging them after a mock trial; and all this because they would not ab­jure their rightful Sovereign, and bear arms against him. You must be conscious that these methods were constantly practised by your Congress and their partizans, that by these you gradually rose to your present usurped power; and although they differed somewhat from the Italian mode of poison­ing and assassination, yet they were done in the true spirit of Machiavelism, and served your designs much better.

What I assert is this—that there is a remarkable conformity between the conduct of the Congress and [Page 63] the rules laid down in Machiavel's PRINCE. Whether that conformity proceeded from accident or design, is foreign to the question, and of very little moment. Now let facts decide whether this assertion be true or otherwise.

By Prince, Machiavel in his treatise means an usurper—a character which applies exactly to you: The power that is acquired by the instrumentality of mobs, by deceit, violence and the prostration of law and order, must be usurped, Agreeably to this character, and the spirit of his treatise, Machiavel teaches his usurper to spurn every obligation, and throw aside all regard to the rights, liberties and lives of others, whenever it would facilitate his way to power ^*.

How well your Congress have practised those lessons, millions can testify. You broke through and spurned the most sacred obligations that subjects can be under to a Sovereign—or fellow-subjects to fellow-subjects. You violated your own oaths, and compelled others to violate theirs. Altho' sensible that carnage, desolation and ruin, must be the in­evitable consequences of your proceedings, yet still you persisted in brandishing the sword of rebellion. When a redress of every grievance, real or pretended, was generously offered on the part of Britain— when every thing, except absolute independence, was allowed—when even the substance of that was grant­ed, and nothing but the bare name was witheld: Yet your Congress turned a deaf ear to all those pro­posals, and contemptuously rejected the offers of peace. Nay, to rebellion you added the most out­rageous insults; thereby provoking Britain to inflict severe punishments on her rebellious children whom she would willingly have spared. Whilst these par­ticulars [Page 64] evince your conformity to Machiavel's in­structions; they also shew that the Congress -and the Congress only—are chargeable, before God and the world, with all the calamities that are suffered by America.

Machiavel says— ‘Experience shews that those Princes of our own times, who have made least account of their word and honour, have done the greatest things; by the dint of craft and circum­vention they have for the most part got the better of others who proceeded with sincerity and regard to their engagements—A wise Prince therefore ought not to regard his word, when keeping it will be to his prejudice.’ ^*—

This precious doctrine hath been uniformly practi­sed by your congress. Your duplicity is become pro­verbial. The Treaty at the Cedars, and Convention of Saratoga furnish us with illustrious specimens of your regard to public faith and honour; just as the imprisonment of Lieut. Hele, manifests your venera­tion for the law of nations; to pass by other instan­ces. —But to proceed—

"A Prince," continues Machiavel, ‘will never want colourable pretences to varnish the breach of his faith—however it is highly necessary to disguse this craft, and to be a thorough master of simula­tion and dissimulation. For some men are so simple, and others so eager to get out of present difficulties, that whoever knows how to act his part well, will always find dupes to his hypocrisy.’ As a recent example, Machiavel mentions Pope Alexander VI, — ‘whose life was one continued imposition on mankind: He neither did nor thought any thing [Page 65] but how to deceive others: No man ever made stronger protestations of sincerity, or took more solemn oaths to confirm them; no man ever shewed less regard to those engagements: Yet Alexander was so well acquainted with the would, that he always found fresh people to work upon.’ — ^†

That the Congress have found pretences for their rebellion, and that they also found dupes to those pretences, is certain. They wrote addresses to the King, the Parliament, the inhabitants of Great-Britain, Ireland and the Colonies. In these they made the most solemn professions of loyalty to their Sovereign, though they undoubtedly meant to re­nounce and abjure him—of attachment and love to their European brethren, though they intended to seperate from them; and were even then taking measures to defraud and ruin them. They com­plained bitterly of grievances in this country, which were not felt—of taxes, which were not levied—of savages employed to scalp them, although the savages were actually kept back by Government from the work of death—of tyrannical oppression and loss of freedom, when we were running wild with licenti­ousness. These pretences, however false, were so colourable, so artfully managed, that they varnished over the real designs and perfidy of the Congress. Republicans indeed, from principle, crowded to your standard here -they commenced your zealous ad­vocates in Europe. But besides these, you gained, for a time, many to your cause, who had been among your warmest opposers, had they known your inten­tions. These were dupes of your hypocrisy; but the charm has been long since dissolved. The discern­ing, the loyal and honest soon saw through the flimsy disguise, and instantly abandoned men who had [Page 66] abandoned truth and sincerity. By throwing your­selves into the arms of France at last, and delivering this country, as far as you were capable, to the vas­salage of that insidious power, you have fully mani­fested to the world your disregard of the liberties, welfare and happiness of America.

Machiavel, after saying that a usurper ‘should have the appearance of good qualities, but to put them in practice would be to his prejudice,’ in­structs his usurper how to fortify himself with proper caution.—"He must be constantly on his guard," says Machiavel, ‘that nothing may ever drop from his mouth but what seems to flow from a heart full of goodness, mercy, truth, humanity and religion; but particularly of the last; for mankind in gene­ral form their judgment rather from appearances than realities: All men have eyes, but not many have the gift of penetration.’ ^‡

Sensible of the utility of this rule, you availed yourselves of it. You professedly undertook to vin­dicate the liberties of America, and rescue the colo­nies from taxation and tyranny. You proclaimed fasts, and appointed days of public humiliation. These were popular things; and who could think otherwise than that they proceeded from hearts over­flowing with goodness, humanity and religion? All indeed had eyes to see these matters; and although many formed their judgment from appearances; yet some had the gift of penetration, and considered all this as a solemn mockery of God and man.

They thought it highly farcical that men—many of whom believed as much of the Alcoran or Talmud as of the Bible—should be the authors of religious [Page 67] institutions on the principles of Christianity. They judged it a mockery of the Supreme Being to desire his interposition in behalf of measures which were expressly forbidden in his word, and inconsistent with the spirit of his religion; or to boast of his pa­tronage, as was your case on any little success you met with, when the disciples of Mahomet, or of any other imposter, equally successful, might, according to this rule, lay a much better claim to the patronage of Heaven.

It was also a mockery of men. The security of their rights and liberties was the ostensible object held up; yet measures were pursued which must ne­cessarily subvert both, as hath actually happened. Liberty is fled from that part of America which owns your sway. There is more liberty in Turkey than in the dominions of the Congress. Can liberty exist where every man who differs in sentiment from you, is not only precluded from the common rights of citizens, but is also liable to imprisonment, confiscation and death? And as for taxes, the sub­jects of your great and good Ally are not near so hea­vily burthened in this way, as the Americans. That usurpers should gain power by deceit and vio­lence, is no new thing—it has frequently happened: But that people, in quest of liberty, should tamely submit to such a yoke as this; or that in such circum­stances, they can be persuaded their rights and liber­ties are preserved and secure, is equally astonishing and new in the history of mankind.

In case a war should be protracted, and the usur­per's subject grew tired of it, Machiavel tells him how to act, ‘A prudent Prince, says he, sometimes artfully buoys up his subjects with hopes that their sufferings will soon be over; sometimes he strikes [Page 68] a terror into them by magnifying the cruelty and blood-thirstiness of the enemy; and he will take other proper methods to fix the wavering, and quiet such as are most clamorous ^‡.’

To this rule you have been peculiarly attentive, and it has done you essential service; without it, the rebellion had been long since ended. At the beginning of every campaign, you gave out that it would be the last—that all fighting, and the sufferings of Ame­rica, would soon be over. How often has the time been fixed when you were to take possession of New-York? I question whether there has been a month for more than two years past, that was not mention­ed by you or your partizans, for the accomplishment of that joyful event. The simple multitude always swallowed the bait, and their spirits were elated. Now that every hope of this sort is vanished, other fictions are propagated. I am told the prevailing de­lusion at present, and what your partizans sedulously promote, is—that Great Britain has offered indepen­dency to your Congress; and nothing but the ad­justment of some articles relative to Canada, the Fisheries, &c. is wanting to settle the accommodation. Incredible as it may appear, yet I am assured that even this absurd falshood is swallowed with avidity! Such men would believe transubstantiation, or deny that sunshine afforded light, if either of them happened to gratify their prejudices, or serve their interests.

You made Europe and America ring with mourn­ful accounts of British cruelties; and yet in truth most of them were purely fictitious; others were exaggerated; and the rest were such as you yourselves made necessary, or that are unavoidable in time of war. You publickly invited the Americans to trans­mit to you whatever reports they could glean up of [Page 69] the enemy's cruelties; and you appointed a Committee of Grievances to arrange and record the virulent tales that were sent in by every seditious, republican zealot, however groundless. These, and other like methods you practised in the true spirit of Machiavelism.

It is by no means my intention to point out in every instance the conformity of your conduct with Machi­avel's rules: To do this, it would be necessary to write a history of the Congress, and transcribe his treatise. The specimens I have given are quite suf­ficient. I acknowledge however that in some Things you have departed, and do still depart, from his rules; but you are excusable perhaps in this, since those rules are inconsistent with the general tenor of his treatise, and contrary to his other positions.

Thus he asserts— ‘that Princes, i. e. usurpers, should take care not to make themselves hated or despised ^*;’ which on his plan and yours, is utterly impracticable. He thinks that of the two ‘It is better for usurpers to be feared than beloved by their subjects ^†;’ in which the sentiments of the Con­gress seem to coincide exactly with his: But then he advises— ‘that if they cannot gain the love, they should avoid at least the hatred of their subjects ^‡.’ Cruelty and rapine are what generally occasion the greatest hatred and detestation against rulers. With respect to these, Machiavel says— ‘A new Prince must not regard the imputation of cruelty, pro­vided it is necessary to keep his subjects in obedi­ence ^¶.—Yet whoever usurps the government of a state, should exercise what cruelties he thinks necessary at once, that he may not be obliged to renew them every day—Matters of this sort should [Page 70] be finished at a blow, that they may give the less distaste, and be the sooner forgotten ^§. But above all, he must take care not to touch the estates of his subjects; for a man will sooner forgive the death of a father or a brother than the loss of his patrimony. Besides, as pretences for confiscations are never wanting, when a man once indulges himself in rapine of that kind, he seldom desists ^**.’

That Congress have not observed the caution here recommended on those two points, is evident from the number of confiscations and executions which we are daily advertised of in your own news-papers ^††, and of which we receive the most tragical accounts from all quarters by Refugees and others. In this you have therefore out-machiaveled even Machiavel himself; and I submit it to your serious consideration whether such a conduct is prudent—at least till mat­ters had taken a more decisive turn in your favour.

Any candid person may now judge whether my assertion is not true—viz.— that there is a remarkable conformity between the conduct of your Congress and the rules laid down by Machiavel in his Prince, except in the articles last mentioned. Evidently, you have trod the path which he hath pointed out to usurpers, and pursued the methods for attaining power which he recommends, as nearly as your situation and cir­cumstances would admit. I have faithfully trans­cribed [Page 71] his words, and fairly represented your conduct, without knowingly exaggerating any particular▪ Let both be compared, and then let truth and reason decide. Dominion was your object, and like Ma­chiavel's Prince, or like Agrippina, as characterised by the masterly pen of Tacitus, you held every thing cheap—you sacrificed every thing for the attainment of it. ^‡‡ In this light you are viewed by Loyalists; in this light you are, and will be viewed by the unpre­judiced, virtuous part of mankind, who really know you.

It is much to be lamented that those execrable methods have too often proved successful; and that misery and ruin have been thereby entailed on milli­ons. The artifices of inordinate ambition, seconded by the simplicity of the multitude, have been an over match for the dictates or truth, the lessons of expe­rience and history, the remonstrances of conscience, and duty to mankind.

Yet it should not be forgotten that many more have failed, than have succeeded, in their attempts at usurped power. Even Caesar Borgia, the most artful and persidious of men, and the pattern held up by Machiavel, was utterly ruined at last. As the latter part of his history may he comprized in a few words, and be instructive to those who are engaged in pursuits similar to his, I shall relate it.

[Page 72]Caesar Borgia, like your Congress, entered into an alliance with the French King, LEWIS XII, to conquer the Milanese. Soon after, LEWIS made him Duke of Valentinois, and allowed him a pension. Their joint efforts to subjugate the innocent Milanese, succeeded for a time; but were finally defeated. Borgia, about this time, concerted a scheme with his father, Pope Alexander VI. to poison nine newly created Cardinals that he might possess their effects; but the wine, which was prepared for the purpose, was, by mistake, brought to, and drank by them­selves. A vigorous constitution, and the use of antidotes, restored Borgia; but Alexander died; and with him ended all Borgia's prosperity. Stripped immediately of his possessions and wealth, the fruits of his former crimes, he was banished into Spain, and there imprisoned. After two years confinement, he made escape out of a window, and fled to Navarre; from whence he wrote to LEWIS, his great and good Ally, requesting assistance to restore his Shattered fortunes. LEWIS, judging it would not be for his interest at that time to shew Borgia any countenance, not only refused to assist him, but also confiscated his Duke­dom, and withdrew his pension. Despised and detested by all, he dragged on a miserable life of dependence, and was finally killed at the battle of Viana, where he served as a volunteer.

Such was the issue of Caesar Borgia's ambition and perfidy. The punishment of his crimes overtook him even here; and Providence, for its own vindi­cation, and in compassion to poor mortals, frequent­ly exhibits such examples of justice as a warning to others.

That you, Sir, should be among a set of usurpers, who have risen to power by methods so nearly re­sembling [Page 73] those which raised Caesar Borgia, is what I sincerely lament.—The Causes of this Rebellion, the effects of your ambition, your present situation, and prospects, shall be the subject of my next Let­ter. At present, let me remind you, that the time may come, when you can repeat and apply to your­self, with little variation, Woolsey's Soliloquy; and when you will acknowledge the truth of the trite though most excellent aphorism—that honesty is the best policy.

THE present rebellion is one of the most singular occurrences in the history of mankind. When any remarkable event, like this, presents itself, the mind is naturally led to assign some cause from which it originated. In accounting for the American re­bellion, many have fallen into very great errors, to my certain knowledge; their decisions were hasty and partial—not the result of careful, unbiassed in­vestigation, but of indolence and prejudice.

Nations have been often plunged into civil war by the claims of pretenders to the regal authority, or by the imposition of enormous taxes, or other oppressi­ons. But evidently these did not occasion the present [Page 74] rebellion; for no such claim, no such taxes or op­pressions existed in America.

There was not a more free or happy people on earth than the British colonists. Without any taxes, but for the support of their poor—as free from re­straint of any kind as could consist with a state of society, they were daily increasing in wealth and numbers—daily improving in the arts and embellish­ments of civil life; and they had the most flattering prospect of an unchecked progress in each of these. Yet they have wantonly renounced their rightful and most amiable sovereign. They have not only waged war against that state which gave them existence, which always cherished them with parental tender­ness, and raised them to their late flourishing condi­tion; but, like parricides, they have combined with the inveterate enemies of that state to effect its ruin! Plunging their country, at the same time, into the deepest calamities, for the avowed purpose of estab­lishing an independent republic!

I am sensible that clamarous complaints were made of grievances and oppressions. But these undeniably were made to inflame peoples minds, and stimulate them to sedition. Had the rebellion originated from real grievances, a redress of those grievances, re­peatedly offered on the part of government, had long since composed our troubles. Ample security against taxation was held out, an accommodation proffered; you contemptuously rejected both, and the rebellion went on with the same determined malice and obsti­nacy as before.

Ambition and a lust of domination in some aspiring individuals, have most frequently produced intestine wars. But such men must always have proper ma­terials [Page 75] to work upon—there must also be a particular concurrence of circumstances to favour their designs, or else they could not be successful. There were periods in the Athenian, Roman and British histories when Pisistratus, Catiline or Cromwell could not have carried their designs into execution. The venal and versatile disposition of the Athenians proved fa­vourable to the first; the abandoned profligacy which reigned at Rome promoted the dark purposes of the second; and the prevalence of enthusiasm and repub­lican principles in Britain, contributed to raise the last to despotism: Had not republican, Democratic principles been as prevalent in America as they were then in Britain, your Congress had not attained their present usurped power.

Indeed some of your European friends have asserted that neither the Congress, nor their adherents were tinctured with republicanism. But you very justly laughed at the folly of men who thus judged without knowledge, and decided without examination. You owed them no thanks for their officious zeal, since every part of your conduct gave the lie to their asser­tion; and on their scheme, the whole of your procedure would be ridiculously preposterous and contradictory. The principles which you published to the world, and on which you attempted to justify your rebelli­on, were perfectly democratic: Swarms of zealots started up in every province to vindicate those prin­ciples, and carry your measures into execution— measures directly calculated to establish a republic, and banish every vestige of monarchy—and measures to which you have since invariably adhered. After this, to deny that the American rebels were infected with republicanism, is at once a violation of truth, an insult on our understanding, and an injury to you.

[Page 76]What those causes were, whether local, political, or religious, which diffused a spirit of democracy through America—who were most infected with it, and consequently, your most zealous partizans— what the circumstances which prepared the way, or served to inflame the rebellion, are points which I shall not enlarge on. They are pretty well known, and the discussion of them is foreign to my design. Suf­fice it to say—that as matters were situated in Ame­rica, some such convulsion as the present was una­voidable, sooner or later. All judicious men here expected it. Deep rooted republicanism, democratic, levelling principles, ever unfriendly to monarchy, had spread their baneful influence far and wide. Actuated by these, your adherents were disposed to revolt: The ambition, artifice, and duplicity of the Congress did the rest. From these combined causes sprung this most detestable rebellion; neither of which singly had been adequate to such an effect. I shall only add on this subject, that the particulars which some have falsly assigned as causes of the rebellion, were no more than circumstances ^* that hastened matters to a crisis. They only contributed to kindle the flame, and set fire to a train, which had been laid for many years.

We have seen in my last, the methods you pursued to subvert the best of civil constitutions, and establish your new tyrannical system. The effects of your [Page 77] ambition, and of those Machiavelian methods, come next to be considered.

Were the most abandoned usurper—not even ex­cepting Caesar Borgia, or any member of the Con­gress—to foresee all the evils, all the direful conse­quences of his ambitious pursuits, I believe he would be petrified with horror, and stand aghast. There was certainly a time, when you, Sir, would have shud­dered at the calamities which you are now instru­mental in accumulating on this devoted country. But you seem to be steeled pretty well against such qualms at present, and have given them to the winds.

America now groans under all the complicated miseries which civil war, that severest scourge which incensed Heaven can inflict on a guilty people, is capable of producing. Her provinces are filled with discord, animosity and inhuman murders. Com­merce is ruined, industry and useful arts are drooping, and nearly extinguished. Scenes of desolation—of the deepest distress are every were to be seen. Thou­sands who lived in ease and affluence are reduced to the lowest ebb of poverty; or banished from their once happy and peaceful habitations. The orphan's and the widow's tears are mingled with those of af­flicted parents, for their respective relatives, cut off by the destroying sword. Those who should be em­ployed in offices of mutual tenderness, are stimulated by hostile rage against each other: Not only subject warring against fellow subject; but parent and child, brother and brother stand forth to shed each other's blood.

These, Sir, are the fruits of your ambition! These the effects of your usurpation! Yet not content with these, you are resolved to spread the circle of human [Page 78] woe still wider; and maintain this unnatural contest, till the measure of this country's ruin is compleated!

But that your merits and zeal for the preservation of America, may be more conspicuous, it will be proper to take a nearer view of what she hath suffered, what losses she hath sustained by your efforts to save her.

I shall pass over the malignant effects of your re­bellion on the morals of the people—Your horrid prostitution of oaths—Compelling men to abjure their rightful Sovereign, and swear allegiance to you, contrary to the dictates of conscience, or else be deprived of all their property or hanged. A more effectual method perhaps could not be devised to ex­tinguish all sense of duty and obligation, unhinge society, and make mankind a set of unprincipled villains. I leave the discussion of those matters to Divines—to such I mean, has have not kicked the Gospel out of their pulpits, nor substituted news-pa­pers and politics in its place.

SIR WILLIAM PETTY, in his Political Anatomy of Ireland, has made an estimate of the losses sustained by that Kingdom, during the great rebellion which began in 1641. His method is to rate at a certain va­lue the lives that were lost, the houses, cattle, &c. that were destroyed, the decrease of rents and value of lands, the expence of armies, &c. I shall follow the method pointed out by this acute and ingenious states­man, in estimating the losses of this continent by your rebellion, without knowingly exaggerating any par­ticular. It is impossible to be perfectly exact and ac­curate in such calculations. No more is to be expected than that we should come as near the truth as we can.

[Page 79]The number of American inhabitants, natives of this country and emigrants from Europe, who have perished by the sword, or by hardships and sickness occasioned by the war; of those who have removed to Europe and will not return, and consequently are lost to America, together with the multitudes you have hanged, and whose death you have occasioned by confinement and other cruelties—The number of all these, I say, at a very moderate estimate, cannot be less than 70,000. In political calculations, the value of men, women and children, above a century ago in England, was stated at £.70 sterling each, one with another. The comparative value of money was then greater than it is now, and consequently, the valua­tion should now be higher; especially as men only, who generally were in the vigour of life, are included in the above estimate. But to avoid the suspicion of exaggeration, I shall fix it at £.70. The loss of America therefore, by these 70,000 men, is £. 4,900,000 sterling.

The rapid population of America was principally owing to the great number of emigrants who came from Europe. For twenty years immediately pre­ceeding 1775, the number of emigrants annually im­ported, taking one year with another, was not less than 4000; but emigrations have ceased since that year, that is, for four years past, since the rebellion commenced; consequently the emigrants for that space, amounting to 16,000, should be set down as so much loss to America. Reckoning these at the same valuation as these in the last article, the sum will be £. 1,120,000 sterling.

About a twelve month since, your emissions of paper money, by your own confession, amounted to [Page 80] One Hundred and Twenty Millions of Dollars ^*. If to this sum, your expenditure since that time, be added; if to these again be joined your bills of credit now in circulation, and the expence of the present campaign, which to you will probably be the most expensive of any, I may safely aver, that the whole will amount at least to Two Hundred Millions of Dollars—It must greatly exceed that sum, for which you have mortgaged every estate in America. Rec­koning a dollar at 4s. 6d. sterling, Two Hundred Million of Dollars are equal to £.45,000,000 sterling.

I am credibly informed that Congress have lately acknowledged their debt to France to be £. 4,000,000 sterling, for which also they have mortgaged every estate in America. This debt should therefore be set down as a loss to this country.

Since the commencement of this unnatural war, the houses that have been destroyed in the provinces of Massachusett's Bay, New-York, New-Jersey, Pennsyl­vania, and Virginia, cannot be fewer than 3500: In the Province of New-York only, 2000 have been de­stroyed. [Page 81] Those houses, one with another, may be valued at £.150 sterling. The whole then will amount to £. 520,000 sterling ^*.

The cattle and stock of all kinds, and provisions which have been destroyed in the course of the war, cannot be estimated at less than £. 200,000 sterling.

The injury done to farms, the fences and timber destroyed, will certainly amount to £. 150,000 sterl.

Great numbers of negroes have been killed, or run away, so as to be lost to their masters. According to the usual price of negroes, these may be valued at 50l. Sterling each; and the number of those kill­ed and run away, as above, may justly be reckoned 5000. For this article I may therefore set down 25,000l. Sterling.

By a decree of your Congress, all exports from the thirteen revolted colonies, were stopped in Septem­ber 1775; from which time till this present month, June 1779, three years and eight months have elaps­ed. The exports for that period, should therefore be accounted as lost to America.

[Page 82]If it should be objected, ‘That when Farmers did not export their grain, produce or other arti­cles of commerce, they could dispose of them at home—that considerable exports were made to France and the West-Indies, for which the Ame­ricans received articles in return from those plac­es.’

I answer—that by prohibiting exportation, the va­lue of all produce and articles of commerce unavoid­ably sunk; they must either remain on hand, or be sold for Congress money, which is good for little or nothing. The exports to France and the West-In­dies were very trifling; and the returns for them were chiefly ammunition, arms, cannon and military stores, which are of no use to the farmers of Ame­rica, and have been made the engines of their ruin. The few beneficial articles imported, such as cloath­ing, sugars, &c. sold at such enormous prices— sometimes at five hundred per cent.—but oftenest at five thousand per cent.—that it can scarcely be said, the Americans derived any advantage from them. That this is the sense of the people in gene­ral, is evident from this circumstance, that hardly any farmers raise more grain or other produce than what is barely necessary for the consumption of their own families; and many of the most profitable arti­cles of commerce are wholly laid aside.

Let me add, that the loss of shipping, of interest upon money, of the labour of those who were em­ployed in your armies, and the decrease of the value of lands, without any advances towards settling the western wilderness, are articles of great importance, for which I have set down nothing. These however should be considered, and will more than balance your illicit trade with France and the West-Indies, [Page 83] and the sale of commercial articles at home. I may therefore aver, that the exports which could have been made during the above period, should be reck­oned as so much loss to the colonies. Indeed the feelings of the colonists will not permit them to doubt it. Few things had a more extensive or per­nicious effect on their property, than the prohibition to export.

In the year 1769, the exports from the thirteen re­volted colonies, amounted to 2,887,898l. sterling. ^* Our exports were then increasing every year; but al­lowing them not to exceed that sum annually, they would amount, in three years and eight months, to 10,588,960l. sterling.

Let us now cast up those several articles of loss— 70,000 men, at 70l. sterling each,

£ 4,900,000

16,000 emigrants.

1,120,000

Two hundred millions of dollars, at 4s 6d

45,000,000

Debt to France,

4,000,000

5300 houses destroyed, at 150l. each,

520,000

Cattle, stock of all kinds, and provisions destroyed,

200,000

Injuries to farms, timber, &c. destroyed

150,000

5000 negroes

25,000

Exports for three years and eight months

10,588,960

Total.

Sterling £. 66,503,960 ^†

This immense sum of SIXTY SIX MILLIONS, FIVE HUNDRED AND THREE THOUSAND, NINE [Page 84] HUNDRED AND SIXTY POUNDS STERLING, has America lost by the present rebellion! By so much is she now poorer, than she would have been, if this rebellion had not happened. I am persuaded that many of those articles are under-rated, and am not conscious that any one of them is above the truth. I have allowed nothing for the pay and other expences of your armies, as these were defray­ed with continental money, the credit of which is ir­retrievably sunk, and is so much lost to the conti­nent. Its pernicious consequences will be sensibly felt by all the colonists; but they will be peculiarly ruinous to helpless widows and orphans.

Now, for what has all this profuse waste of blood and treasure been made?—For sake of overturning the best of civil constitutions! For sake of a nominal independency, which, if established, would be more destructive to this continent, for ages to come, than even the present rebellion has been! For sake of a ruinous alliance with France, the enemy of liberty and protestantism—of the honour of M. Gerard's company for a few months, and that the Congress might bear sway over these desolated provinces!

Whilst mentioning the effects of your rebellion, the disgraceful, wretched state of France should not be passed over. As she shared in your guilt, so hath she deservedly and deeply shared in your calamities. France, in the time of profound peace with Britain, amidst the most solemn professions of friendship, and without even the pretence of provocation, took part in your rebellion, and sent over a large fleet here to attack the power with which she was at peace! Af­ter hovering a few months on this coast, without do­ing any thing but to proclaim the perfidy of his nati­on, D'Estaing retreated to the West-Indies. There, [Page 85] one of the French islands was taken under his eye; and his own fleet blocked up at Martinico, without daring to venture out to sea. The French West-In­dia trade is nearly ruined. The French fisheries at Newfoundland are annihilated—Pondicherry, the only place of any consequence which France possessed in the East-Indies, is wrested from her, and her East-In­dia company and trade totally ruined. Her trade in Europe is in little better plight—her merchant ships taken, her fleets blocked up, her merchants bankrupt, her government without credit at home or abroad, and covered with indelible infamy, A just reward this of her perfidy! May all who act in the same in­sidious manner, meet with a like fate!

I should now examine what your present state and prospects are; but as this would require too much time, I shall defer it to my next; and shall only add, for the present, some reflections of the excellent Mr. ADDISON on the nature and guilt of rebellion.— You cannot suspect him of partiality to Tories, or of being disaffected to the Congress. You may therefore safely attend to his sentiments, and allow them their just weight—they are very applicable to the present subject.

"That rebellion is one of the most heinous crimes which it is in the power of man to commit, says this admired writer, may appear from several considerations. First, as it destroys the end of all government, and the benefits of civil society. Go­vernment was instituted for maintaining the peace, safety and happiness of a people. These great ends are brought about by a general conformity and sub­mission to that frame of laws which is established in every community, for the protection of the innocent, and the punishment of the guilty. As on the one [Page 86] side, men are secured in the quiet possession of their lives, properties and every thing they have a right to: So on the other side, those who offer them any in­jury in these particulars, are subject to penalties pro­portioned to their offences. Government therefore mitigates the inequality of power among particular persons, and makes an innocent man, though of the lowest rank, a match for the mightiest of his fellow-subjects; since he has the force of the whole com­munity on his side, which is able to controul the in­solence or injustice of any oppressor.—Now rebellion disappoints all these benefits of government, by raising a power in opposition to that authority which has been established among a people for their mutual welfare. So that rebellion is as great an evil to so­ciety, as government itself is a blessing."

"In the next place, rebellion is a violation of all those engagements which every government exacts from such persons as live under it; and consequent­ly, the most base and pernicious instance of treachery and persidiousness. The guilt of rebellion increases in proportion as these engagements are solemn and obligatory. Thus if a man makes his way to re­bellion through perjury, he gives additional horror to that crime which is in itself of the blackest nature."

"We may likewise consider rebellion as a greater complication of wickedness than any other crime we can commit. It is big with rapine, sacrilege and murder. It is dreadful in its mildest effects, as it impoverishes the public; ruins particular families; begets and perpetuates hatreds among fellow sub­jects, friends and relations; makes a country the seat of war and desolation, and exposes it to the at­tempts of its foreign enemies. In short▪ as it is impossible for it to take effect, or to make the smallest [Page 87] progress, but through a continued course of violence and bloodshed, a robber or a murderer looks like an innocent man, when we compare him with a re­bel."

What a contrast is there between these sentiments, and those of Machiavel, quoted in my last! In the former, we are warned of the guilt and ruinous ef­fects of rebellion and usurpation, and dissuaded from the perpetration of such crimes: In the latter, men are stimulated to usurpation, and the methods are taught by which their crimes may be crowned with success. Addison, like one of those pure intelligences that are delegated by infinite wisdom to superintend the government of the universe, would diffuse bene­volence, peace, harmony and happiness among man­kind: Machiavel, like a dark friend, that delighted in human misery, would subvert all order, lead men to the commission of the greatest enormities, and spread devastation and ruin throughout the earth.

It were needless for me to say which of these it is that your Congress have listned to— whose precepts they have practised. The usurpation and rebellion which now disgrace America, with all their conco­mitant train of evils—tyranny, bloodshed, desolation, &c. will not suffer us to doubt that Machiavel's les­sons have been reduced to practice on this Continent.

HAVING briefly pointed out in my last, the causes which produced this unnatural Rebel­lion, and the effects of it, particularly the losses which America hath sustained, I now wait on you to examine the present state and prospects of the Congress.

You have invaded the rights, and trampled on the authority of your Sovereign—You have sported with the lives, property and happiness of your fel­low subjects—You have diffused wretchedness and misery through this once flourishing country—and have employed every artifice of deceit, duplicity and violence—to attain your present usurped power: What this situation, for which you have sacrificed so much, now promises—what the probable issue of those enormities will be, are questions in which you and every British subject must be deeply interested.

Your Congress have kindly stepped forth to assist me in this inquiry. Your Address to the Inhabitants of the United States, dated the 26th of last May, gives a gloomy picture of your affairs, and contains representations which would be deemed by your partizans as the result of malignity, had they been made by me. I hope they will pay the more atten­tion [Page 89] to what I shall now say, as it has the suffrage of the Congress to support it.

It is not my intention to examine minutely the whole of this Address. I shall pass over your usual cant—your prostitution of scripture—your sophistry, and artful application to the passions of the people, by which you would cajole and reconcile them to their destruction. I shall content myself with offer­ing a few strictures on such parts as tend to elucidate the subject before us.

The first thing that strikes me, is, the remarkable difference, as to your hopes of success, between this Address, and your Observations on the American Revolution ^*, published last winter, The Observa­tions [Page 90] assure us,— ‘That the efforts of Great-Britain to reduce those United States, are now almost [Page 91] brought to a conclusion:’ The Address tells us that those efforts are multiplied,—it evidently speaks the language of despondency, and suggests the idea of a last speech. You bid us indeed—"not think you despair of the Commonwealth;" but you manifestly betray despair—just as the tremor and agitation of a culprit betrays his guilt, though he loudly declares his innocence. From your own representation of matters, it is impossible for any unprejudiced person to think otherwise than that your cause is desperate. The truth is, your circumstances are greatly chang­ed, and your language is changed with them.

After mentioning ‘the great and increasing de­preciation of your currency, and the mischiefs that have flowed from it,’ you enumerate several causes, to which that depreciation, you think, was owing—such as ‘frequent emissions, and the pro­digious sums, emitted, the artifices of men who enrich themselves, by monopolizing the necessa­ries of life, the misconduct of inferior officers in the public service, and farmers raising the price of their produce.’ But you have thought proper to conceal other causes which have contributed more than any of these to the depreciation of your currency—these are the fluctuating state of your affairs, of your usurped power, and the despotism of your government.

Paper currency is the sign or representation of money, as money is, by general consent, the sign or representation of all merchandize, of all commodi­ties whatever. Money, i. e. gold and silver, and ar­ticles [Page 92] of merchandize, mutually represent each other. Hence, money has ah intrinsic value—this value is not impaired by any accident, by the most violent shocks of war; carry it to any part of the globe, its value will be acknowledged.

The case of paper currency is totally different.— Having no intrinsic value, its credit and nominal va­lue wholly depend on the security by which it is supported. Take away that security, and like an edifice whose foundation is removed, it instantly sinks. If a man can have money at all times for his paper currency or bills, so far the currency is good, and answers the purpose of money. If moderately emitted, the credit of currency may also be provided for by taxes in times of peace and security; for in such cases the whole community is engaged to sup­port its credit, and can fulfil the engagement. This credit however at best can only be local, differing es­sentially in this respect from money, which hath an intrinsic value, and is therefore universally received. Let me add, that it is in free and mild governments only that paper currency can maintain its credit. Ty­ranny produces distrust and unhinges security; these must necessarily destroy public credit. Thus it is observed, that in despotic states, even money disap­pears. Men frequently bury their money, as the only way to secure it; and thus many of the weal­thiest Americans, when the despotism of the Congress commenced, actually buried their money and plate, and large quantities of each lie buried, to this day, without the British lines.

The above observations are very plain and obvious, and I think incontrovertibly true. They will assist in accounting for the downfal of your currency. The first reason you assign for its depreciation, is certainly a good one. The sums you emitted were [Page 93] so enormously large, that all the taxable property of the revolted colonies was insufficient to support their credit; consequently, the credit of that currency must inevitably sink.

But if it be farther considered, that those monstrous emissions had no legal support—that the authority on which they rested, was usurped and contested—that the sword of justice hung over those who emitted the currency, and their power was utterly precarious and fluctuating—that their government was an usurped tyranny which flung every thing into confusion, and filled every breast with anxiety and distrust: When these particulars are considered, the wonder is not that your currency should be so much depreciated; but that it should have any value whatever— Nothing but the bayonet has supported the small degree of credit it hath hitherto retained; but that violent expedient can no longer afford it credit— it is irreparably sunk, and past your power to re­trieve it.

You very unkindly throw the blame of this disaster on others—on monopolizers, the misconduct of offi­cers, that is, in plain English, on peculators, who have robbed the public, and on farmers who raised the price of their produce. With respect to farmers, the accusation is unjust, and a mere blunder of your own. It is mistaking the effect for the cause. The currency did not sink because the farmer raised the price of his produce; but he therefore raised his produce, because the credit of your currency had sunk. And pray what is there unjust or unreasonable in this? Why does the farmer toil and sweat, but that he may enjoy the fruits of his labour? If your cur­rency hath sunk to a thirtieth part of its nominal va­lue, is it unjust or unreasonable in the farmer to de­mand [Page 94] thirty times as much of that currency for any article as it formerly cost?

As to peculators and monopolizers, I have no con­test with you. I believe you have just reason to complain of them. The large fortunes amassed by many of your dependents and partizans, sufficiently evince your complaints to be well grounded. I could name a Pr—sb-t—an Parson, not many leagues from this city, who was not worth a groat when this re­bellion began; but being a flaming patriot and friend of the Congress, he was put into the Commissary's department; and it is affirmed that he hath already realized an estate of 25,000l. reckoning a dollar at 8s.—this is only one instance out of very, very many that I could mention.

But I am not pleased with the Congress for at­empting to shift the blame from themselves in this matter, when they are chiefly guilty, and throw it on others. You stigmatize and accuse others of pe­culation; but, are you innocent and spotless your­selves? Mr. Deane's publications, and others which they gave rise to, induce the world to think you are not quite immaculate. The large estates now pos­sessed by members of the Congress, who we know were bankrupts when they took their seats in that august assembly heighten people's suspicions. Nay, some do not hesitate to aver that the Congress have been tam­pering with French gold; for that nothing else can account for their adherence to France, contrary to every dictate of reason and duty—every principle of protestantism and good policy, and to the manifest interest of America. Nor are these suspicions in the least diminished by a certain transaction which some of your members took special care to make public, and from which they affected to derive great merit, [Page 95] as if they were above corruption and bribery. No­thing is more frequent with designing men than to seize little incidents, and by their help lay in a stock of merit with the simple populace, at a cheap rate, to be employed on future occasions, and turned to their own advantage. Hereby they think to act with more security, and indulge with less suspicion in that very vice they seemed coy in admitting—just like some termagant females, who prosecute one man for a rape, whilst they invite and run into the lewd em­braces of another.

But to leave those matters which, I presume, are among the "reproaches that are peculiar to you," as you tell the Americans, and advert to things which are unquestionably acknowledged. You say, by way of apology, that ‘emitting paper money was an expedient which had been before frequently and successfully practised on this continent.’ Very true—but you will please to remember that those emissions were comparatively small; and they had all the security that the Legislature, of which the King is an essential part, could give to support their credit. Hence they derived stability and value, and answer­ed the desired purpose.

Now, are these cases parallel? You know they are not—they differ in every material circumstance. Your emissions were so immoderately large, that the Co­lonies were unable to support their credit; they were issued in direct opposition to the King's authority, and in the midst of tumults, when no adequate se­curity could possibly be given; their depreciation therefore was unavoidable. All this you knew per­fectly well, yet you daily emitted new sums—each successive emission exceeding the one that preceded. Are not you then changeable with all the mischiefs [Page 96] flowing from this disaster? In a word, your currency had its birth from rebellion, its support from vio­lence, and it must end in the ruin of thousands, who will justly lay that ruin to the account of the Con­gress.

But in order to cheer the spirits of your partizans, you mention an expedient by which your currency may be retrieved; and that is Taxation. According­ly you demand, with very little ceremony, the sum of forty-five million of dollars, from the Colonists, in addition to fifteen millions which were demanded be­fore; and both sums amounting to sixty millions of dollars, and equal to thirteen millions of pounds sterl. are to be paid within the current year. This is tax­ing with a vengeance! Such a demand by the French King, arbitrary as he is, from 16 millions of vassals, would throw France into convulsions.

But hereby the credit of your currency is to be raised! Perhaps this is one of the grossest impositions which the Congress have yet played off on their de­luded vassals. Supposing this immense sum were actually levied and paid in, will the quantity of your currency be less at the year's end, than when it be­gan? No—the expenditure of the present year will require more than those sixty millions of dollars; and must not the money be struck to answer that expen­diture, being immediately wanted? How great your expence must be, let any one judge, when you are obliged frequently to give 500l. to a man for serving in your army a few months.

Supposing however that your debts and the quan­tity of your currency should not be greater, Jan. 1, 1780, than they were, Jan. 1, 1779; yet remember, the taxable property of your subjects will be greatly [Page 97] diminished. Two of your States, I may say, are already gone; should the other eleven even remain in your hands, which is not a very clear point, yet the ravages of war will certainly thin their inhabitants and destroy much property. Here then your debts and the quantity of your currency will continue the same, whilst your ability to discharge the one and support the other, will be very much diminished. Even now, your currency, like an execrated thing, is shunned by all who can avoid it; at the close of the current year, a Congress dollar will probably have no more value than a common rag of equal di­mensions.

To console your partizans still further, you tell them,— ‘the conduct of one Monarch, the Friend and protector of the rights of mankind, has turned the scale so much, that all the visionary schemes of your gigantic adversary,’ meaning your Sove­reign, "have vanished." In truth, Sir, considering the mischiefs you have brought on France, it is a pity to quarrel with you for affording her some kind and gracious words, since you can give her no more. Yet it is worth observing how the Congress are fated to unite in themselves the most glaring contradictions —professing to be the patrons of liberty, candour and republicanism, they exhaust our language in fulsom adulation to the most ambitious, restless and faithless Monarchy in christendom.

Whoever is acquainted with the history of France, must know, that to the efforts of Richlieu, she owes her loss of liberty, and the despotism of her monarchs; and that the maxims of that Machiavelian statesman are those by which the conduct of her government has been regulated since his time. Amongst those maxims, Montesquieu, a Frenchman, tells us, the [Page 98] following is one— ‘If there should chance to be some unlucky honest man among the people, Cardinal Richlieu in his political testament seems to hint that a Prince should take care not to employ him ^*.’ How far this maxim was adhered to in the appoint­ment of your French Plenipotentiary, or in that of the Admiral who was sent to your assistance, I shall not determine—you can best judge. Probably, this may have also become a fashionable maxim with you.

France, by the very act in which she engaged to be your ally, announced her perfidy in such a man­ner as to remove all just confidence in her friendship. She would as soon break her treaty with you as with Britain, if she could gain by it; and you must be conscious, that it was not from affection to you or to the rights of mankind, but to serve her own am­bitious purposes, that she joined in your cause. By duplicity, intrigue, perfidy and violence, France has gained more provinces in Europe than you had to bestow in America; and she gained them without a claim half so plausible as you gave her to the Thirteen United States. Burgundy, Alsace, the Netherlands &c. &c. can fully testify this, as well as the poor Corsicans within, our memory, who were sold to France by their late republican masters and tyrants. The Corsicans and French Protestants will, doubtless, join heartily in your panegyric.

What you can rationally expect from France at present, is beyond my comprehension. She is unable to protect her own trade or foreign settlements, how then can she protect or assist you? She cannot lend you money, for she has it not to lend; and even [Page 99] your bills on France have been protested. Her King's palaces and gardens are going to ruins for want of money to repair them. The Agents of France are soliciting loans for the support of her present arma­ments, in every neighbouring state that has money to spare; yet her credit is so low, that they can scarce­ly procure a single liyre. If you think, at least, that such a diversion will be made by the French war, that this continent will be neglected by Britain, and you permitted to establish your independency, you will find yourselves egregiously mistaken. The war with France will be principally on that element, where Britain confessedly surpasses any power in the world, in strength, dexterity and skill. She can line this coast with ships of war, and still retain a suffi­cient force to crush the naval power of France. Your ally, for his own preservation, must abandon you, and leave you to your fate. With all the infamy of a French faction, yet without French assistance, you must struggle against your "gigantic adversary;" who, besides superior strength, has right and justice on his side, and the cause of liberty and the protestant religion to animate his exertions.

Your paper currency and the French alliance were the principal supports of your rebellion. I have therefore dwelt the longer on them. In shewing the credit of the one to be irretrievably lost, and the other to be of no advantage, but dangerous and dis­graceful in the highest degree, I have so far pointed out your present state. I now proceed to other parti­culars, which shall be briefly discussed.

Before I enter on these, give me leave to inform you that Britain will not give up this contest, nor abandon America. Whatever hopes of this kind you may have entertained, whatever reports to this [Page 100] purpose you have propagated to buoy up the spirits of your partizans, be assured they were false and ground­less. Britain is determined to assert her just claim, and she will contend as earnestly for her American colonies, as she would for any county in England, were it invaded—set this down therefore as an indu­bitable truth.

Your hopes of foreign loans are by this time va­nished. France cannot, Holland or Spain will not lend you money. In conjunction with France, you have endeavoured to drag Spain into the war. But the present distracted state of the Spanish government is an effectual bar to it. Besides, every maxim of sound policy, every dictate of common sense for­bids Spain to countenance your rebellion —it would be teaching her own colonists to rebel—it would be setting up a rival power in the vicinity of her colo­nies, which in time might wrest them from her.— Accordingly, Spain is deaf to all your inflammatory exhortations to war.

What then are your internal resources with which you are to encounter your ‘gigantic adversary, prepared at all points, and of whom even mighty warriors were greatly afraid?’ —to use your own most military and elegant phraseology. Men and mo­ney are the sinews of war. The cash account has been already examined—You must depend on a wretched currency, which is past all hope, or the possibility of being retrieved—no, not even by the fale of the western wilderness, the last anchor of your hope.

America is thinned of its inhabitants. Seventy thousand men, and those generally the most useful and industrious are already swept away. In a coun­try [Page 101] so extensive and so thinly inhabited as America, this loss must be severely felt. Those that remain, are harrassed with perpetual musters, and called from their necessary labour to attend the operations of war. If a few determined republicans, and such as are vested with power, and are amassing fortunes by the public ruin, be excepted; the first enthusiastic zeal for revolt and enterprize is subsided, even among your partizans. The people in general are heartily sick of the contest. The calamities they have suf­fered, the ruin that threatens, joined to your des­potism, have brought them to their senses. They are averse to taking arms, and ardently wish for peace.

Is not this indeed the case? Why else are you re­duced to such difficulties in raising an army? Scarce­ly any will inlist even for a few months. Those that do inlist, are tempted by exorbitant premiums; nor would these avail, were not the poor wretches seduced by artful falsehoods—such as accounts of victories never obtained—public rejoicings for those victories—great and good news from Europe, alto­gether fictitious—loans, fleets and armies coming over, which never had an existence, &c. &c.— Whence is the backwardness of the militia to turn out when called on? Or whence those violent and arbitrary methods to draft the militia, and keep up the appearance of an army? Do not these things evidently shew that the people at large are averse to your measures, that their hearts are not with you? So galling has been your yoke, so insupportable your tyranny, and so detested by the colonists, that many thousands of them would this moment cheerfully set fire to their own houses, and destroy them, provided this would contribute to deliver them from their present thraldom, and restore to them [Page 102] the blessings of peace and liberty which they former­ly enjoyed. When so many of your subjects are lukewarm, so many others disaffected, and others again so highly exasperated, your usurped power must rest on a very tottering foundation. Even in your army, distrust and disaffection prevail. If half a do­zen of your soldiers are seen conversing together, they are instantly dispersed by an officer. This I have been assured of repeatedly by deserters.

You frequently and loudly complained that go­vernment had employed the savages to scalp you.— You did this, when government actually restrained the savages, and would not employ them; and when you were using every method in your power to gain the savages, that you might employ them against go­vernment. Such of the Oneidas, Housatunnuk or Stock­bridge Indians and others, as had been previously perverted from loyalty, joined you, and have fought your battles. You lately sent a number of commis­sions to Indian Chiefs, and attempts were made by the most flagrant falsehoods, to seduce them from the King—your artifices however proved abortive.

For these and other reasons it is become absolutely necessary for government to employ the Indians; and employed they will be. You have imposed this disagreeable necessity on the Parent State. With very little encouragement, such a number of Indians may be brought on your frontiers, that in conjunc­tion with the loyalists, whom you have driven to des­peration, and compelled to join the Indians, they would cut out work enough for all the forces you can muster. Doubtless every precaution and me­thod will be taken to prevent the cruelties which at­tend an Indian war; but it is to be feared that your barbarities to the savages will in some degree defeat [Page 103] those precautions. You have cut off numbers of the Indians, you have destroyed their houses and settle­ments, because they would not take up the hatchet to support your rebellion. This will naturally sti­mulate them to revenge, and all the consequent hor­rors must be laid to your charge.

Whilst your western frontiers are thus exposed to the ravages of an incensed enemy, the whole line of sea coast on the east is open to the British fleet and army. To the southward and northward also you will feel the power of the British arms. In every quarter you are vulnerable, and in every quarter you will be pressed; whilst disaffection and distrust, in­ternal feuds and animosities weaken and consume your strength.

To compleat the whole, this country, formerly the most plentiful perhaps in the world, and most abounding in provisions of every kind, is now threatened with famine. The old stock, which our non-exportation kept on hand, is now consumed or destroyed. The Americans must entirely depend upon their annual crops for future subsistence; these are scarcely half as large as they were formerly, and are liable to the same consumption and destruction that have already swept off much greater quantities of grain. In most places the lower classes are in want of bread; I have been assured that some have even perished for want of that and the other neces­saries of life. These wants will unavoidably in­crease, if the war continues; and your warmest par­tizans in different provinces have declared it as their opinion that a general famine is approaching.

Such is the state of your affairs which an impartial survey of them presents to us. Yet still you breathe [Page 104] war and defiance, and multiply your insults and cruelties▪ like the devoted Jews when they compelled the mild and generous TITUS to inflict such severe punishment on them. In my conscience, I think there is not in the whole compass of history a case to be found so parallel to yours as that of the Jews at the period I mention. Without an object to com­pensate for the calamities suffered by this country, without any rational prospect of success, and without ability to protect the people whose guardianship you have assumed▪ you subject them to all the miseries of civil war▪ and drag them,contrary to their incli­nation and principles▪ to be slaughtered like sheep, in the field of battle. This leaves you utterly inex­cusable in the sight of God and man, and covers you with guilt of the deepest dye!

What then can your [...] be in such a situation? They must be gloomy and wretched indeed. Your apprehensions must be terrible when you take time to reflect. But none can form a just idea of the sensations peculiar to your situation, except such as are plunged equally deep in guilt and rebellion. Whatever terrors a consciousness of your demerits may suggest, I am clearly of opinion that you have more to dread from the resentment of your much in­jured countrymen than from the resentment of Go­vernment or the sword of justice. The instances are very numerous where usurpers, who were instrumen­tal in bringing ruin on a people by such methods as you have practised, have fallen victims to the rage of those people▪ and have been torn to pieces by them, however they might have been once idolized. Private rage, impatient at the tardy progress of public jus­tice, which may he finally eluded, hath snatched them from its hand, and devoted them to instant destruc­tion. Beware of a similar fate: Human nature is the same now that it was formerly.

[Page 105]When matters are approaching to this crisis, it is not improbable that overtures of accommodation will be made by your Congress to the British Commander in Chief; or that they will authorize their deputies in Europe to attempt something of the kind. With how good a grace such overtures can come from you, after what has happened, I leave your own feelings to determine.

It is certainly a matter of serious consideration both to government, and to the good people of this coun­try, whether a treaty or any kind should be held with the Congress—whether men, who have so much prostituted their usurped power, should ever be admitted to have any hand in the settlement of the colonies. Certain I am, that good policy on the part of America, as well as of Britain, utterly forbids it. That this country will have a generous constitution, as much freedom and as great privilege, as any part of the British dominions, is what I firmly and religi­ously believe. No well informed person can doubt it. But these benefits should immediately flow from go­vernment to the people, through their legal, consti­tutional assemblies; not through the unhallowed mediation of usurpers, who have laboured to ruin the whole empire, and would be attended with the most pernicious consequences.

Before I conclude this letter, I cannot forbear pay­ing the tribute of applause which is due to the loyal­ists of America—a tribute which truth and justice de­mand. If your invention was strained to devise cru­elties for their trial, they have sustained the shock with no less firmness and intrepidity. They have exhibited instances of und viating loyalty, of unsha­ken, attachment to principle, to the dictates of con­science, and to the interest of their country, which [Page 106] would do honour to any people, in any place, or at any period. They have literally FORSAKEN ALL, that they might adhere to these. Insults and perse­cution, bonds and imprisonment, confiscation and death, have been their bitter portion; yet their for­titude surmounted these, and they triumphed over you in their sufferings; Your compassion was with­held from them, but they commanded your esteem; and they had what you cannot have, the testimony of a good conscience to support them. Tho' privy to each others sentiments, and under the strongest inducements of self-preservation, emoluments and popular applause, to be treacherous; yet there is no instance where they violated the mutual confidence, or betrayed the trust which they reposed in each other: On the contrary, they have, at the risque of their lives, always readily afforded whatever aid and affectionate assistance was in their power, to their loyal brethren, when in distress, or under difficulties. Such conduct, which is the result of a steady adher­ence to the voice of duty and conscience, reflects lustre on human nature, and in some measure atones for the baseness, perfidy, and other atrocious crimes with which some of their deluded brethren disgrace America at this day.

THE conduct of the American Congress, in some of their recent and most important transactions, hath been developed in the preceding letters, by which a judgment may be formed of their character. Their duplicity and nefarious designs have been ex­posed; the origin and causes of this rebellion, and its ruinous effects have been also briefly laid before you. Moreover, the present state and prospects of the Congress have been impartially examined. Each of these hath been done with all good faith and sin­cerity; and with the sole view that the truth might be known; and that those concerned might profit by it.

Before I close these papers, I would willingly ad­dress YOU, my countrymen, and lay before you some further particulars which are peculiarly interest­ing at this time. My aim is to give you such infor­mation as will enable you to judge of matters right­ly, and think for yourselves. Happy shall I be, if my endeavours contribute to these purposes, and direct you to a proper conduct.

Republicans, smugglers, debtors and men of des­perate fortunes, were the principal promoters of this unnatural rebellion. If to these be added a very few [Page 108] individuals who were stimulated by ambition to fi­gure at the head of a new empire, and cared not what the consequences would be, provided only they ob­tained, their ends, I am confident the list will con­tain the sum total of those who were active and zeal­ous for independency. Whether such men were fit to take the lead, and decide wholly for you in things of such moment, where your lives, liberties, proper­ty and happiness were all at stake, I leave you to judge. Necessity and compulsion, it is true, drew in many to join these afterwards; others were imposed on by specious falshoods, and thereby seduced from their allegiance and interest; but these only acted a subordinate part, and were not initiated into the grand mysteries of state.

The lenity of the British government was constru­ed here to be the result of fear, pusillanimity and im­potence; and afforded leisure for the schemes of sedi­tion to ripen, and for the disaffected to disseminate their poison. Hence the spirit of revolt and rebelli­on spread much wider, and acquired more strength. Whilst every artifice was used to vilify government, and make it odious; plausible objects were held up by the seditious leaders, which lulled suspicion, re­moved danger out of sight, and promised the most flattering advantages. By these methods many well meaning people were duped, and influenced to join them, who have since lamented their folly, and now deplore the wretched state of their country.

Men seldom, if ever, pursue what is wrong or per­nicious, as such. They always have some good, some benefit, real or imagined, in view. But unfor­tunately, the weakness of the human intellect is such, that it is often imposed on, and mistakes that for good and beneficial which is really the reverse. Fals­hood [Page 109] assumes the garb of truth, and they are not ea­sily distinguished from each other. Vice puts on the semblance of virtue—ambition, that of patriotism and generous zeal for the good of others. In addi­tion to all this, men's passions and prejudices mingle with their reasonings, pervert their judgement and hurry them into many things which unbiassed rea­son utterly disapproves. Hence, they frequently adopt principles which are not only inconsistent with, but subversive of, their happiness; and yet they act on those principles with earnestness and unremitting ardour. This perhaps is one of the most prolific sources of human misery, as experience evinceth; and it frequently happens in the course of affairs, that men not only impose on others, but even on themselves.

To pass by those who promoted this rebellion from selfish motives—to aggrandize themselves, and lord it over their brethern—to defraud their creditors, or patch up their broken fortunes—there were many of you, my countrymen, I doubt not, who engaged in it with upright, sincere intentions. You believed that you were serving your country. Fond and flat­tering were the expectations of many on this occasi­on. Their heated imaginations presented to them high ideas of empire—American fleets traversing the ocean, and armies the continent—Ambassadors with their pompous trains from distant Courts, suing for alliance—the wealth and commodities of the universe pouring in—taxes abolished—poverty and distress banished—all party extinguished, freedom seated on her peerless throne, and ‘her temple thrown wide, as an asylum to mankind.’ —Fine notions these, to be sure! The misfortune is, that it was impossible to realize them.

[Page 110]Whatever arguments or train of thought may have led you to these extravagant conclusions, or inspired you with that belief, it is high time to re-examine them. If disappointment is capable of producing diffidence, if experience can teach wisdom, or suffer­ings bring men back to sober reflection, I am sure you ought to review your conduct, and to ask your­selves —whether you have not been deceived and mis­taken? Whether you have not viewed things thro' a false medium? Whether local prejudices and pride, under the appearance of true patriotism, have not warped your judgment, and plunged you into error?

True patriotism consists in a desire, and in uni­form, concomitant endeavours, to promote the wel­fare and happiness of our country, without injury or injustice to others. Virtue and rectitude are its inse­parable attendants, and benevolence will influence its measures. It is not a blind attachment to a par­ticular district, which would aggrandize that at the expence of all others. This is nothing but local prejudice and pride. Much even of the Roman pa­triotism, which has made such noise in the world, was of this latter and spurious kind.

Insatiable ambition was the distinguishing charac­teristic of the Romans. They gratified that ambiti­on by raising their own city on the ruins of every other state. The whole world must bend and sub­mit to Rome. Mankind were plundered, enslaved, and butchered in order to exalt Rome. Will any one call this true patriotism?

That many of you were actuated by a species of patriotism nearly resembling this, is evident. No­thing else could suggest the extravagant notions be­fore mentioned, and which you are conscious were [Page 111] entertained by the abettors of this rebellion. These notions could not be realized, even supposing it had been practicable, nor your independency established, but by a series of the most enormous crimes; and the end in view could not possibly justify these; especi­ally when the liberties and welfare of America might be otherwise secured.

As false patriotism, i. e. local prejudice and pride, thus seduced some, so others were perverted by a false principle of honour. Many, who, in their hearts, disapproved of independency, who thought it would be ruinous, and shuddered at the crimes which would attend the accomplishing it, yet were led by this prin­ciple to support the Congress. Several officers, to my certain knowledge, and some of high rank, in the beginning of the year 1776, expressed their ap­prehensions of independency, and positively averred that ‘if the Congress, declared for independency, they would not only abandon them, but turn their swords against them.’ Yet when independency was declared that same year, these officers still adhered to the Congress! They thought it would be a breach of honour to desert the Congress, and the cause in which they had engaged! This was also the case of others.

There are many abuses of the word honour; but this is the most flagrant abuse of it that I have met with. Separate from justice, truth, and virtue, ho­nour is a phantom; and may be prostituted to the worst purposes ^*. Could honour oblige those men to act against the conviction of their judgment, and violate the most sacred obligations? Was not their [Page 112] honour previously engaged to support the just rights of their Sovereign, and the interests of their coun­try? Were not those rights invaded, those interests spurned, and their country endangered, according to their own sentiments, by the declaration of inde­pendency? And was not their veracity, as well as duty engaged to oppose independency, which would prove ruinous to millions? Did not the breach of honour rather consist in the violation of these?

If it be said, ‘that these men were so deeply en­gaged on the side of the Congress, that they knew not how to disentangle themselves:’ I answer, that this plea may as well be urged for a continuance in any crime or vice—in any measures, however iniqui­tous. To err is the lot of humanity; but when a man is convinced of his error, honour and duty require that he should retract it; nor can the plea of his being deeply involved, be any excuse, or extenua­tion of his guilt. In the common affairs of life this assuredly is the case; I see no difference in the instance before us.

If it should be alledged further, as it probably will, ‘that these men had changed their sentiments, and thought independency would be beneficial to this country;’ I am willing to join issue on this ground, and examine the truth of this plea.

Supposing then that the independency of America could be established, this must be done by the assist­ance of your French alliance, as is acknowledged on all hands. Do you really imagine that the liber­ties of America, or the protestant religion would not be thereby endangered? If you think so, you must be utter strangers to the genius of popery, to the ambitious, enterprising spirit of that insidious monarchy.

[Page 113]Besides the advantages allowed to France by the treaty of alliance (the whole of which has not yet been laid before the public) she must pour in such succours, and otherwise entangle the colonies with her own interests, by bringing them in debt for mili­tary stores, merchandize, &c. and obtaining pro­per security, that before your independency, with respect to Britain, could be secured, you must be dependent on France. She must unavoidably gain an entire ascendency over the colonies, and they would lie at her mercy.

Even already the Congress have declared, ‘that the United States may not of right, nor will, con­clude either truce or peace with the common enemy, without the formal consent of their ally first obtain­ed.’ So that you and your brethren must continue butchering each other, till it suits the interest and policy of France to bid you stop. If the colonies are so much at the devotion and beck of France now, what will the case be when they are still weaker and more exhausted than they are at present; and when they are involved deeper with France, and are much more in her power? These things carry terror with them, when the aspiring views of France are considered—her aim at universal monarchy, and her repeated encroachments on the rights of every neigh­bouring state for accomplishing that design. The person who is acquainted with these matters, and yet is not apprehensive for the liberties of this coun­try, is either regardless of those liberties, or he shuts his eyes against the clearest conviction.

The French alliance looks with no less malignant an aspect on the Protestant religion, than on the li­berties of America. Sad experience had taught our ancestors, that severe laws and penalties, and the vi­gilance [Page 114] of the civil magistrate were indispensibly ne­cessary to restrain the restless spirit of popery—and that these were scarcely sufficient to prevent popish priests from perverting Protestants to their supersti­tion. These laws were extended to the colonies.

But under the Congress this procedure is reversed. Instead of laws to restrain, the door is thrown wide open to receive popery. Its priests are favoured and countenanced—they meet with every encourage­ment; whilst protestant clergymen, who will not perjure themselves to support the Congress, are ba­nished, imprisoned, and otherwise cruelly persecuted.

Is popery then changed? Is it purged from error and become less persecuting? No—it is now the very same as formerly. Its inquisition still reeks with the blood of Protestants, and of others whom it pronounces to be heretics. Not one erroneous or superstitious article has been yet expunged from its creed—nor hath any reformation taken place in its idolatrous worship. Its priests are as zealous as ever to make proselytes, and to impose their spiritual tyranny on mankind.

With such countenance from the Americans— with such zeal to propagate the tenets of popery— with such artful emissaries as are always employed in this work—and with French influence to support them, what progress may we not expect that intole­rant superstition will make in a short time! Every Protestant who has any regard for his religion—a religion which has been sealed with the blood of mar­tyrs—and martyrs to popish fury—every such Pro­testant, I say, must be greatly and justly alarmed at this prospect.

[Page 115]Think not, my countrymen, that these things are flung out merely to frighten you, or that these fears and apprehensions are groundless. The case speaks evidently for itself. Circumstances less threatening have frequently roused our ancestors against the en­croachments of Popery; and to this jealousy and vi­gilance it was owing, humanly speaking, that they and we have hitherto been preserved from its yoke. But I shall further submit the following indubitable facts to your consideration, and then judge whether those apprehensions are groundless.

To speak against popery, which is the religion of France, would draw as severe persecution from ma­ny of the most zealous abettors of Congress, as to speak against the Congress itself. They will not permit a word to be said to the disadvantage of po­pery, In very many districts of the continent— and in some of New-England—where popery was formerly detested, and scarcely a papist was to be seen, numbers of popish books are now dispersed, and read with avidity I could name a member of the rebel council in one of the New-England colonies, who was formerly considered as a zealous protestant dissenter, who not long since harrangued a large as­sembly of people on some of the disputed points be­tween protestants and papists; such as the invocation of saint, purgatory, transubstantiation, &c. After palliating each of these, straining the sense to put the most favourable and least offensive construction on them, and softening them with as much art as the most subtle disciple of Loyola could use, he finally declared that he saw nothing amiss or erroneous in them; and his audience seemed to be wonderfully pleased and edified. I could name another protestant dissenter, whose antipathy to popery seemed former­ly to border on enthusiasm; yet who lately declared [Page 116] his wish to see a popish priest settled in every county throughout America ^*.

Large importations of Popish Priests, beads, and other such trumpery, have been made into the Colo­nies since the French alliance took place. Upwards [Page 117] of twenty Priests were said to be in one French ship that was chased by a British cruizer in Chesapeak Bay; the French vessel escaped, and this information was given by the Prisoners in a French prize which was taken soon after. Several thousand popish beads were found on board a prize lately brought into this port—the prize came from Havannah, and was bound to Philadelphia.

I have the most authentic vouchers and documents to prove these facts; and could mention many more of the same kind, were it necessary. But why should I dwell on such anecdotes to evince this point? The Congress and Rebel Legislature of Pennsylvania have lately given the most publick and unequivocal proof of their countenance and good will to Popery They have set an example which they unquestionably wish others to follow. In a Philadelphia Newspaper of July 7, Inst. we have the following relation.—

‘On sunday last, being the Anniversary of the independence of America, his Excellency, the President, and the honourable Members of Con­gress attended divine worship in the forenoon— When a sermon, suitable to the occasion, was preached by the Reverend Mr. White,—one of the chaplains of Congress.’

‘At noon, the President and Members of Con­gress, with the President and chief Magistrates of this State, and a number of other Gentlemen and Ladies, went, by invitation from the Honou­rable the Minister of France, to the Roman Catholic chapel, where the great event was cele­brated by a well adapted discourse pronounced by the Minister's Chaplain; and Mass and Te Deum solemnly sung ^*.’ —I shall leave you to make your [Page 118] own reflections on this most edifying exhibition. CHARLES I. was called a Papist for permitting his Queen, who was bred a Roman Catholic, to attend mass: What are we to think of the American rulers, who not only permit their wives to attend mass, but attend it themselves in person! And offer up their devout orisons in the language, service and worship of Rome!

All these particulars sufficiently shew the present state of Things on this head—what encouragement popery has met with, in consequence of the French alliance—What progress it has already and is likely to make, and that the apprehensions of its increase are well founded.

Now mark how differently it is treated within the King's lines. This will clearly appear from the following fact: In February, 1778, a large French ship of force was taken near Chesapeak Bay. The Rev. Mr. De La Motte, a regular priest, of the or­der of St. Augustin, was her Chaplain. The prize was brought to New-York; and Mr. De La Motte, with the other officers were permitted to go about, having given their parole of honour. De La Motte was solicited to say Mass; but being apprized that a law of this Province prohibited the exercise of the Popish religion within its limits, he asked the Com­mandant's permission for the purpose. The per­mission was refused; though De La Motte afterwards alledged, that through ignorance of the English language, he mistook the Commandant, and un­derstood the permission was granted. De La Motte officiated: and for this he was taken up, and put into confinement; and in confinement he remained, till exchanged and sent to Boston, where, I presume, he exercised his function without any interruption.

[Page 119]Some perhaps may flatter themselves that America will be able not only to maintain its independency and be happy; but also to guard against any designs of France, that would be injurious to its liberties, or the protestant religion.—This notion is altogether chimerical, and contrary to the clearest evidence; yet as I am willing to try the validity of every plea that has any plausibility, I shall bestow a few words in the examination of this.

Supposing Britain and France were set aside, would the liberties of America be secure under the Congress? Would the Americans be a peaceable and happy people, and subject to few taxes? These are interest­ing questions; for these contain all that the abettors of independency can rationally aim at; and yet no proposition can be more clear than that you would fail of attaining these, in case America should now become independent.

By liberties, I mean such as you formerly enjoyed, and such as are the portion of British subjects.— Frenchmen have what they call liberties—and even Turks—the staunch allies of France—have what they call by the same name. But I conceive you would not be content with such liberties. You look for liberties, similar, at least, to those which you once possessed.

The experience of three years has taught you how far these are attainable under a Congressional govern­ment. You have been ruled with a rod of iron. Despotism has marked the footsteps of your rulers. Nor was this merely owing to the present conflict— the consequence of your struggle with the parent state. It resulted from the genius and spirit of the Congress. The internal structure of that govern­ment, [Page 120] which has been huddled up in the midst of war and tumults, is such, that it is necessarily sub­versive of liberty, and must lead to tyranny.

Liberty cannot exist for any time, where the supreme power of a state is not divided. A right distribution of that power is the spring of liberty; in this also consists the excellency of any civil constitution. Am­bition and a thirst of power are naturally inherent in man. These will stimulate bodies of men, as well as individuals to encroach on the rights of others. Un­less there is some power to restrain those encroach­ments, liberty must vanish.

In Britain, the constitution has guarded against such encroachments. The supreme power is divided into three branches; each of which can check and control the others, when necessary. If any one of them should attempt to pass its proper limits, to the injury of the others, or of the community, the other branches can interfere immediately, and frustrate its designs before they can to executed. Hence arise the permanence and stability of British liberty.

In America, the case is wholly different. The Congress have found means to unite and centre in themselves the power of King, Lords and Commons. They are absolute, paramount and unrestrained— without check or controul. They may pass what laws, or take what measures they please, and there is nothing to restrain them. They may sell you and your liberties, with the soil of America to the high­est bidder, and you have no remedy.

Have you not already experienced in part what is here alledged? Do you approve of all the proceedings of the Congress? And if not, what remedy can you [Page 121] apply? I do not ask you whether you have unanimously approved; but did a majority approve of the Congress's declaration of independency—Of their withholding from you the proposals made by the British Commissi­oners soon after—Of their rejecting the offers of ac­commodation by the British Commissioners lately, without discussion or examination—Of their alliance with France, and their resolve of Jan. 14, by which this country was virtually, and as for as they could betrayed to that insidious power—Of their secreting from you their most important transactions—Of their emitting such enormous sums of paper currency, by which you are brought to the brink of ruin—Of their burthening America with such a debt, by this currency and their traffic with France, as must impoverish and depress this country for generations to come? How­ever you may disapprove of any, or all of these, yet it is past your power to redress them.

If it should be urged— ‘that the members of the Congress are elected by the people—that their fears become vacant after a short term; and that this is a sufficient security for the liberties of America.’ I answer, it is by no means a sufficient security. When the members of the congress are once elected, they become invested with absolute unrestrained pow­er. There is nothing to check their proceedings. In one session the liberties of America may be laid prostrate; and when an act or acts are passed, how­ever pernicious, they cannot be recalled. The thing is done, and is therefore remidiless, as to you. Can the vassals of Turkey be in a worse situation?

‘But must not they participate in your burdens, and be equally involved in your loss of liberty, and other evils?’ —Yes, verily —just as the thirty tyrants of Athens, Julius Caesar, and Oliver Crom­well, [Page 122] with their respective associates, participated in the burdens of their countrymen, and were involved in the common evils. Experience shews that consi­derations of this sort will not prevent the abuse of power. You cannot be more zealous for a Repub­lican Government, nor more averse to the yoke of despotism, than the Athenians, Romans, and En­glish were, at the periods abovementioned: Yet they were compelled respectively to submit to that yoke. The emoluments of office would more than com­pensate for the pecuniary part of the burden; and ambition will stick at nothing to grasp its favourite object—domination.

Be not deceived therefore, my countrymen, with the sound of names; nor think there is any necessa­ry connection between liberty and a Congress. You may be enslaved by a Congress as soon as by a Mo­narch—much sooner than by a limited monarch.

The American Congress have ordered matters so that they are vested with absolute power—they can turn the collective strength of the community against any individual, or to any object they please: Yet, as a body, they are responsible to none, there is no­thing to check them, none who can call them to an account. No man therefore, who wishes well to America, but must tremble at the apprehensions of such a power. To live under it is nothing but an expression denoting servitude.

Independency is pregnant with many other evils. To support the civil, naval and military establish­ments of this new empire, would require nearly four Millions of Pounds Sterling, annually in time of peace.

[Page 123]This, with the debts already contracted by the Congress, and the sinking their paper currency, would subject you to heavier taxes than are paid by any people in christendom.

The seeds of animosity and discord, of deadly feuds and bloody contests, are already sown—the spirit which will cherish these, and bring them to full maturity, even now begins to work. Scarcely can the terror of the British arms, joined to the au­thority of the Congress, restrain some provinces from hostility and war about their mutual claims to certain districts—and some of those districts deso­lated by the Savages. Instigated by the same am­bition which led them to throw off their connection with the parent state, a few provinces lay claim to the whole of the western unsettled lands, to the ex­clusion of the rest. It is manifest that the possession of so immense a territory, would, in time, enable those provinces to subjugate the others, and swallow them up. Religious prejudices would certainly ope­rate, and struggles for superiority would ensue; for whatever may be the opinion of some to the con­trary, it is absolutely certain, that on the part of many, the present is a Religious War.

All these clashing interests, prejudices and princi­ple, which are at this hour fermenting, would burst out with destructive violence the moment that the claims and superintendence of Britain are entirely removed. Perhaps you are not apprehensive that those evils would follow; neither were you appre­hensive of the present evils when the contest began. But these consequences would infallibly attend your independency at this time. All those circum­stances by which this country flourished, would be changed; its state and condition must necessarily be changed also. What were the circumstances that promoted our growth and oppulence?—The pro­tection of British, the mildness of our government, [Page 124] an exemption from taxes, the influx of Europeans, and a spirit of peaceful industry. Each of these, in case of independency, would indubitably be reversed; must not the benefits arising from them be also re­versed? America would be a scene of bloody discord and desolation for ages—the most miserable distract­ed country on earth. In this wretched state it would continue, 'till a few provinces, or one sect had sub­jugated the rest; as this would probably end in the depotism of one person. Such has been the uniform course of human affairs on similar occasions.

Let me add, that it is impossible for so extensive a country as America to remain under a republican form of government—the form now adopted. The experience of mankind, as far as we have any re­cords, clearly evinceth this; as well as the conditi­on of human nature. We can no more change the laws of nature in this respect, than in any other— no more than we can change the laws of gravity, or those which guide the seasons, or regulate the uni­verse. The republican form may do well enough for a single city, or such a little spot as Holland, Ve­nice or the Swiss Cantons, but is utterly unsuitable to such a wide extended continent as this; nor does history afford one instance of the kind. No sooner had the spirit of conquest enlarged the Roman em­pire beyond the limits which were adapted to their republican government—and those limits not a fifth part as large as North-America—than the despotism of one person was the consequence.

Such is the prospect, my countrymen, which in­dependency presents to you. I trust you will give these matters a serious, dispassionate examination, and weigh them with that attention which their impor­tance demands. All that is dear or valuable to man on earth is now at stake with you—all that can make life desirable is suspended on the decision of this contest.

[Page 125]Nothing but the power and interposition of Britain stands between you and the evils which I have now mentioned. Were she to break off her connection, those evils would rush in upon you like a torrent; nor could she take a severer revenge for the injuries and insults she hath received, than leaving you to yourselves. Of all this, I know many of you are fully sensible; yet delusion still holds you in her fascinating chains.

I have hitherto reasoned with you on the above suppositions, purely to meet your prejudices, examine the validity of your several pleas, and the grounds of your expectations respecting independency. But I must now tell you plainly that independency is UN­ATTAINABLE. Britain is determined to assert her just claim to her American colonies, and she is able to carry her determination and claim into execution. Happy is it for you that she hath ability and will to do so; this alone can rescue America from the foreign and domestic evils we have been considering.

France cannot protect her own trade, or settle­ments; how then can she protect or assist you? Or, were she able, would she bestow that freedom and liberty on you, which she cruelly denies to her own children? Do you expect that Spain will assist to establish your independency? Were she even to do so, contrary to every principle or national interest and good policy, (of which however there is not the least probability) be assured there are other Europe­an powers ready to interfere, and assist Britain; and these would more than balance the weight of Spain. Do you flatter yourselves that because the war has been so much prolonged, you have a chance yet to succeed? Reflect, I beseech you, that Britain is slow in her operations at the beginning of every war, and often unsuccessful. The freedom of her constitution subjects her to this inconvenience, and occasions embarrassments that are unknown to arbitrary go­vernments. [Page 126] You remember the last war. You may recollect what losses she sustained; how gloomy the prospect of America was; that it was threaten­ed with the yoke of France, for four years after the war began: Yet Britain finally triumphed over France and Spain, not only here, but in every quarter of the globe. That Freedom, from which embarrassments arise at first, enables her, when tho­roughly roused, to exert a vigour which the dastard sons of servitude can neither attain nor withstand.

Consider the numbers of your brethren that have been already swept off—the desolation and misery that overspread this country. Do you think the sword hath not yet devoured enough? Or should the ravages of war be invited to hold on their dreadful career, and consume whatever yet remains? That the Congress mean to continue those ravages, is evident. Sooner than part with their honours, emoluments and power, the sweets of which they have now tasted, they will sacrifice the life of every individual who will be stupid enough to support or adhere to them.

What can attach you to men who have shewn such a disregard to your welfare—such insensibility to your miseries? Who, contrary to all rational hope of suc­cess, perpetuate your calamities; and although utter­ly unable to protect you, yet drive you out to be slaughtered? And who by their duplicity and cruel­ty have disgraced America!

So void of humanity are the Congress towards you, that altho' they compel you to be enrolled as militia, and this subjects you to all the penalties of rebellion; yet they will not redeem you from captivity, nor ex­change you, unless you happen to be taken on actual service; and great numbers, as you very well know, are taken who are not thus on service. They oblige you to take arms against your rightful Sovereign; yet you must expect no relief from them when [Page 127] suffering for that crime, although they can easily afford relief. If taken, you may languish and rot in prison, or die, and your families suffer; but they neither care for you, not yours.

Even their Continental troops fare no better.— Many hundreds of them, officers and men, are now confined in this place, some of whom were made prisoners as early as 1776; besides multitudes that have died. Whatever falshoods you may have heard concerning those prisoners, be assured they have had to the full the usual allowance of provisions for pri­soners, and have been as well used otherwise as the state of things would admit. They were confined in large buildings, or on board of ships; nor could they be otherwise accommodated unless thay had been sent off the continent. The Officers were permitted to go at large on their parole, although upwards of an hundred of them have shamefully violated that parole and ran off.

Why have those unhappy men been thus brutally abandoned? Not content with neglecting their zealous partizans, the Congress have added insult and mockery to cruelty. They have several times appointed commissioners to meet others from the British Commander in Chief, to treat of an ex­change of prisoners. Yet in truth they meant to do nothing but trifle with us, to amuse and deceive you and the rebel prisoners. A desire of exchange was pretended; yet the exchange was evaded, not only by a breach of public faith, by proposals utterly inadmissible, but by a series of chicane and duplici­ty which would be held in detestation by men of any honour or principle. They undervalued you on those occasions; alledging, that one of their men was not worth a British or German soldier—that it would be prejudicial to them to part with the remains of Bur­goyne's army on equal terms; as if Britain could not easily replace two or three thousand men; and the [Page 128] prisoners of that army in their hands do not exceed that number! In their late Address, the Congress have more than insinuated that the American merchants, farmers, and the inferior officers employed in their Service, are a Set of mercenary wretches, who care nothing for the public if they can only enrich them­selves: In their procedure respecting prisoners, they have declared by words and actions, that you are not worth exchanging, and are beneath their regard or notice.

The true and secret spring of this conduct is as dishonourable to Congress, as it is injurious and provoking to you. The real fact stands thus— While the Congress have those prisoners, they are sure that a great number of English guineas must be sent for their support—they are no less sure that many or most of these will infallibly find their way to themselves; and however they may extricate his Majesty's person, they like very well to view his picture in gold. Hereby they can make provision for themselves against an evil day in some foreign coun­try, which their own currency will not do. Besides, by detaining those prisoners, the Congress imagine they have pledges of security for their own precious persons in case of a disastrous issue in their affairs, or that any of themselves should be made prisoners.— These are the laudable motives which induce the con­gress to neglect their friends, leave them to struggle with all the hardships of confinement, and their families to starve.

For my part, I should not be surprized if all the rebel prisoners, those we now have, or such as may hereafter be taken, were sent to some distant coun­try. Here, they put government to a great expence, without any advantage whatever, as the Congress will not exchange them. The poor wretches are a burden to themselves, and useless to mankind. By sending them off, they might be disposed of so as to be serviceable to themselves and others. Good po­licy, [Page 129] in my opinion, dictates such a measure; and I am sure humanity must approve of it.

But why should I enlarge further? The time would fail me to recount the several enormities of those men, who seem to be intended only as a scourge for this devoted country. Consult your own feel­ings, your memory and experience: What have you known but violence, oppression and misery since the reign of the Congress commenced? What have you in prospect, if you adhere to them, but destruction and ruin? Why then adhere longer to men, whom duty, honour, patriotism and self preservation call loudly on you to abandon? Whose tyrannical system you should exert yourselves to overthrow?

Turn your Eyes, my countrymen, to Britain, your parent state—the state from which you origin­ated—which protected and fostered you with tender care, and raised you to your late flourishing and en­vied condition. She holds out to you the blessings of peace, freedom and security—an exemption from the evils which now threaten you.

Were the Americans left to their unrestrained choice, Britain is the country, and the only one, with which they should desire an union. Her constitution insures real, substantial liberty to every subject—all are under the protection of equal laws—none are exposed to the caprice of arbitrary will—the proper­ty and person, the civil and religious liberties of every man are perfectly secure. Britain is the only state whose maritime power can effectually protect Ame­rica from foreign insult or invasion—she is the only state whose immense trade can employ and give vent to the various commodities of this western hemisphere to advantage—and she is the only state who can fully and on advantageous terms, supply America with the se­veral manufactures of linen, woollen, metals, &c. that she requires. No other state can furnish these of equal quality, in the same quantity and at the same price. Let me add, that the ties of blood, religion, lan­guage, [Page 130] laws and manners, strongly impel each to a coalition, which cannot be said of any other state, with respect to America, but Britain. Providence, nature and reason, therefore point out and demand this union—and that union, I firmly believe and trust in God, will take place.

Yes—I see the auspicious aera near approaching, when Britain and America will be united—when a generous constitution, guarding against former incon­veniences, will be established, and from which Con­gressional and Gallic despotism will be bannished— when both countries, supporting and supported by each other, will rise to eminence, prosperity and strength, unknown to past ages, bid defiance to fo­reign and domestic enemies, and become the admi­ration and envy of mankind.

This is no flight of fancy, unsupported by reason. It is not like the dreams of independency, which must vanish like the baseless fabric of a vision. Each of these particulars, is founded in truth, in the actual state of things at present; nor have I a doubt but each will be realized. Neither France nor the Con­gress can wrest those blessings from us, nor reverse the course of nature. Whilst this prospect should animate the friends of government, liberty and peace; it should also engage all to unite and exert themselves in arresting the ravages of war, and checking the pro­gress of desolation. The sooner this is done, the bet­ter. Your part therefore is, to contribute what you can to shake off speedily the yoke of republican ty­ranny, and re-unite yourselves to the parent state, from which republican ambition, phrenzy and delu­sion have severed you.