The true interest of America impartially stated, in certain stictures [sic] on a pamphlet intitled Common sense. By an American. ; [Ten lines of quotations]

SECTION III. STRICTURES on what the Author delivers as his "Thoughts on the present State of American Affairs."

IF the person who was capable of so vile a prostitution of Scripture, as we have seen in the preceeding section, should equally prostitute the words, Reason, Argument, Common Sense, in this, it is not to be wondered at. That this is the case, will appear by a near examination. From the author's defultory way of writing, and want of method in de|livering

his thoughts, it is not easy to follow him,—howe|ver, I must do as well as I can.

In this section before me, this Gentleman unfolds his grand scheme of a revolt from the Crown of England, and setting up an independent republic in America. He leaves no method untried, which the most experienced practitioner in the art of deceiving could invent, to persuade any people to a measure which was against their inclinations and interest, that was both disagreeable and destructive. He unsays in one place what he had said in another, if it happens to serve the present purpose; he cants and whines; he tries wit, raillery and declamation by turns. But his main attack is upon the passions of his readers, especially their pity and re|sentment,—the latter of which is too apt to be predominant in mankind. As for himself, he seems to be every where transported with rage—a rage that knows no limits, and hurries him along, like an impetuous torrent. Every thing that falls in with his own scheme, or that he happens to dis|like, is represented in the most aggravated light, and with the most distorted features. Such a malignant spirit I have seldom met with in any composition. As often as I look in|to this section, I cannot forbear imagining to myself a guilty culprit, fresh reeking from the lashes of indignant justice, and raging against the hand that inflicted them. Yet I can|not persuade myself, that such fire and fury are genuine marks of patriotism. On the contrary, they rather indicate that some mortifying disappointment is rankling at heart; or that some tempting object of ambition is in view; or proba|bly both. I always adopt the famous Bishop Berkeley's max|im in such cases,—

I see a man rage, rail and rave; I sus|pect his patriotism.

That these observations are justified by the author's own words, I shall now proceed to evince; and I doubt not but the candid reader will consider what I say in the sense it is meant—is directed against this republican's ruinous scheme of Independency. This and this only, is what I combat. My most ardent wish—next to future happiness—is, to see tran|quillity restored to America—our Liberties, Property and Trade settled on a firm, generous and constitutional plan,

so that neither of the former should be invaded, nor the latter impoliticly or unjustly restrained; that in consequence of this, a perfect Reconciliation with Great-Britain were ef|fected, an union formed, by which both countries, support|ing and supported by each other, might rise to eminence and glory, and be the admiration of mankind till time shall be no more. In such a plan, the real interest of America is indubitably to be sought; and could my influence avail, there would not be a dissenting voice in the colonies—all would unite as one man, and use every effort, to have such a plan speedily settled.

The author of Common Sense says,

He has no other preliminaries to settle with the reader, than that he would divest himself of prejudice and prepossession, and suffer his reasons and feelings to determine for themselves.

I have no objection to these preliminaries. They are such as I myself would chuse to settle with the reader; provided his feelings are not those of rage and resentment, which are ex|ceedingly improper to determine in matters of such moment. It is not improbable indeed, that every republican who is as prejudiced, interested, and vindictive as himself, will agree with him in all his extravagancies; and so perhap they would, though an angel from Heaven were to assure them that they are wrong. But I am confident the readers of that stamp make but a very small number at present in Ame|rica.

After observing, that

many writers have embarked in the present controversy, with various desings, he says, they have all been ineffectual, and the period of debate is closed. Arms, as the last 〈◊〉〈◊〉, decide the con|test; the appeal was the choice of the 〈…〉〈…〉 the con|tinent accepted the challenge.

That an appeal was made by the King to arms for the decision of this unhappy con|test, on the 19th of April, the period our author sixes, is a matter in which I am not quite clear; but more of this presently. If such a challenge was accepted by the Ameri|cans, I am sure it was with great reluctance. They desired it not; although this writer, by his manner of expression, insinuates they did. But he these matters as they will, cer|tain

it is, that the peried of debate did not then close. The challenge was not accepted so as to exclude an amicable ac|commodation. Since that time, the Honourable Continen|tal Congress petitioned the King, and transmitted addresses to the inhabitants of Great-Britain and Ireland, to facilitate a reconciliation. Nor can I conceive it possible, that any one, unless some sanguinary wretch, who hopes to profit by our confusions, should wish to see the contest finally de|cided by arms.

By referring the matter from argument to arms, a new aera of politics is struck—all plans, proposals, &c. prior to the 19th of April—are like the almanacks of last year; which, tho' proper then, are superceded and useless now.

I shall not undertake a decide on the value of old almanacks, as I am not an almanack-maker—the au|thor may know more of the matter. But he here takes for granted what should have been proved, viz. that the matter or contest was ultimately referred from argument to arms. If the sense of our Congress, and of the inhabitants of this continent at large, is any rule to judge by, all plans and proposals, even those prior to the 19th of April, are not useless. A free people, who have a just sense of their rights and liberties, are very justifiable in shewing they will not tamely give them up without a struggle. But no people, except some tribes of savages, who aim at the total exter|mination of their enemies, will ever lose fight of argument and negociation, to terminate such disputes. To insinuate the contrary of the Americans, is at once doing them the greatest injustice, and offering them the greatest insult. No people under Heaven are less sanguinary, or deserve such a character less.

Our author repeats the same sentiment elsewhere. "No man," says he,

was a warmer wishes for reconciliation than myself, before the fatal 19th of April, 1775; but the moment the event of that day was made known, I re|jected the hardened, sullen tempered Pharaoh of Eng|land for ever; and disdain the wretch, that with the pre|tended title of father of his people, can unfeelingly hear of their slaughter, and composedly sleep with their blood

upon his soul.

This is the man, gentle reader, who declares,

he is not induced by motives of pride, party or resentment, to espouse the doctrine of separation and independence;

no, no; and if you will take his own word for it, he is by no means for

inflaming or exagge|rating matters!

The reader must be sensible, that a per|son who can thus set truth and decency at defiance, and is regardless of even the appearance of consistency, has a great advantage over his antagonist.

That the expedition to Lexington was rash and ill-judged—that it was risking the peace of the continent, and wan|tonly involving fellow subjects in blood, for a most inconside|rable object—I shall most readily allow; and our author has my leave to load that expedition with all the reproaches he can invent. I disapprove the design of it as much as he—I lament its effects much more. And from whatever un|happy circumstances it arose, I am well assured, from the very best authority, that the King's orders to all his Com|manders or Generals on this continent, were to act only on the defensive, and in support of the laws. Now, after ••••ving such restraining orders how the blood of those who were killed on either 〈…〉〈…〉 distance of 3000 miles from him, could be "on 〈…〉〈…〉" inconceivable. If this Republican, therefore, rejected his Sovereign, on account of the unforeseen blood-shed at Lexington, it was only be|cause 〈…〉〈…〉 little attachment to him before; and this op|portunity was only seized by the author to give went to a disaffection which only slumbered before. Thus, by wilful slanders, to poison the minds of fellow subjects, and sow disaffection among them, which may be productive of gene|ral misery, is a crime of such complicated guilt, that none but men of the most abandoned profligate hearts, are capa|ble of committing.

After all, it is impossible to assign any good reason, why a reconciliation with Great-Britain, which was so proper be|fore the Lexington affair, should be so improper afterwards. Our author, indeed, in his usual way, dogmatically asserts it; but 〈…〉〈…〉 will not pass for proofs. If peace and reconciliation on constitutional grounds, and proper security

for our several rights, were desirable and advantageous be|fore the 19th of April, 1775, must they not have been equal|ly so after the event of that unfortunate day? Let reason and common sense answer.

But as so much has been said of the advantages of re|conciliation,

continues our author,

it is but right we should examine the contrary side of the argument, and inquire into the material injuries which the colonies sus|tain, and always will sustain by being connected with Great-Britain.

He alledges, indeed, several evils which he supposes would attend that connection; but cautiously a|voids any mention of the numberless evils and calamities which we must infallibly suffer by breaking it off. As in a former case, so in this also, I shall endeavour to supply his omission in due time.

"Some have asserted," he tells us,

that as America hath flourished under her former connection with Great|Britain, that the same connection is necessary towards her future happiness. Nothing can be more fallacious.

He adds—

We may as well assert, that because a child hath thrived upon milk, that it is never to have meat.

How|ever glib this quaint simile may run upon paper; or however convincing it may appear to shallow readers; yet, in truth, when examined, it contains a palpable impropriety, and is impertinent to the case before us. Great-Britain is figura|tively called the Parent State of the colonies; their connec|tion, therefore, may be properly compared to the relation subsisting between parent and child. But to compare our connection with Great-Britain to the literal food of a child, a thing different from, and not necessarily belonging to that relation, is manifestly absurd, and a violation of the proprie|ty of language; as all who are judges of the nature of lan|guage must be sensible. The relation of parent and child ends not, when the latter has arrived to maturity, although the use of milk may be laid aside; and that relation may be still necessary to the happiness of both; the same may be truly affirmed of connection with Great-Britain. But if we must stretch the simile further, we find something analogous to the literal food of a child, it is the litteral support afford|ed

by Great-Britain to the colonies, in their infant state for|merly; and the administration of the colonies now, as well as the general laws of regulation she may make for us. As to any support now, in the above sense, it is confessed the colonies in general do not require it. With respect to the administration of the colonies, and regulating laws proper for them, these should certainly be varied, and adapted to our maturer state. The want of this is the true source of our present calamities; and the attainment of it, by a re|conciliation and constitutional union with Great-Britain, is what every honest American should earnestly wish for. But the remedy proposed by our author, would resemble the conduct of a rash, froward stripling, who should call his mother a d-mn-d b—ch, swear he had no relation to her, and attempt to knock her down.

"But even this," subjoins our author,

is admitting more than is true; for I answer, roundly, that America would have flourished as much, and probably much more, had no European taken any notice of her. The com|merce by which she hath enriched herself, are the neces|saries of life, and will always have a market while eating is the custom of Europe.

If no European power had taken any notice of America, that is to say, if none had been at the expence or trouble of discovering it, and settling colonies in it; there is great probability that America had not flourished, but remained to this day as savage a wilder|ness as when Columbus or Cabot first described its coasts.—But to pass over this blunder. Let the reader only turn to any history of the settlement of the British colonies, and then judge what had been the condition of Virginia, the first co|lony, and latterly of Georgia and Nova-Scotia, if Great-Britain had not supported them. They must as infallibly have perished, as an infant without its proper food, had not Great-Britain afforded her aid and support; which have been more or less extended to the colonies in general. Even after they had surmounted their first difficulties, what had been their fate, had not Great-Britain protected them? If so happens that avarice, ambition and fighting, are customs of Europe as well as eating. This being the case, some other

European power would indubitably have seized all these co|lonies, in their infant state, had not Great-Britain held out her protection.

And here much matter of grief is presented to this poor Gentleman. He pathetically laments, that—

Alas! we have been long led away by ancient prejudices, and made large sacrifices to superstition—not considering that the motive of Great-Britain in protecting us, was interest, not attachment;

and then he spins out a tedious, affected sentence of her

not protecting us from our enemies on our account, but from her enemies on her own account,

&c. Supposing this were true, where is the harm? Great-Britain actually did protect us; and it is a matter of little moment to us, what her motives were. If she received be|nefit by it, so much the better. Mutual interest is the strongest bond of union between states, as the history of mankind testifies; and certainly that nation would act a most absurd, as well as wicked part, which lavished away its blood and treasure, without any prospect of national advantage in return. But I firmly believe, that his assertions on this head are as false, as they are ungenerous; and that Great-Britain, in protecting us, was actuated by motives of affection and attachment, as well as interest. The whole of her conduct to the colonies, till lately, evinces it—the Americans themselves have acknowledged it. Great-Britain, no doubt, derived many advantages from the colonies; but should we under|value her protection on that account, or ascribe it to sordid motives only? It is every man's interest as well as duty to be honest; would it, therefore, be candid, generous or true, to suppose, that every honest man is actuated by selfishness only?—But candour and truth are things that have nothing to do with the procedure of this dark republican, who aims at utterly effacing every trace of former affection and friend|ship between Great-Britain and the colonies; and like a fiend that delighted in human misery, would arm them with the most deadly, irreconciliable hatred against each other.

But he denies that Britain is the parent country of these colonies. He

reprobates the phrase, as being false, selfish, narrow and ungenerous.—Europe, (says he) and not

England, is the parent country of the colonies.

It is an observation of Epictetus,

That if a man will contra|dict the most evident truths, it will not be easy to find ar|guments wherewith to confute him—that the disposition to contradict such truths, proceeds from want to candor and modesty.

He moreover adds—that when some ad|venturous spirits in his time, undertook to deny the plainest and most evident truths—

This denial was admired by the vulgar for strength of wit and great learning.

Whatever circumstances can denominate any country to be the parent state or country of colonies, may be truly pre|dicated of England, with respect to these American colonies. They were discovered at the Expence of the English crown—first settled by English emigrants, and the governments erect|ed here were formed on the model of the English govern|ment, as nearly as the state of things would admit. The colonists were deemed English subjects, and entitled to all the privileges of Englishmen. They were supported and protect|ed at the expence of English blood and treasure. Emigrants, it is true, resorted here from other countries in great num|bers; but these were not entitled to all the privileges of En|glish subjects, till naturalized by an act of the English legisla|ture, or some Assembly here; and the prodigious confluence of strangers into the colonies, is a proof of the mild and li|beral spirit by which they were cherished and administered. If these particulars do not entitle England to the appellation of mother-country to these colonies, I know not what can; and these particulars cannot be predicated of any other coun|try in Europe besides England.

The author tells us, however—

that the phrase parent or mother country, hath been jesuitically adopted by the King and his parasites, with a low papistical design of gaining an unfair bias on the credulous weakness of our minds.

I conceive the present King, or his parasites, as he calls them, were not the first or only persons who a|dopted this phrase; and, therefore, it could not answer such a design. The phrase hath already been used, both here, and in Britain, since the first settlement of the colonies.

But this curious observation was introduced purely to

in|sinuate the King is a papist; which has just as much truth in it, as to insinuate that he is a Mahometan or Gentoo; for there is not a firmer protestant in Great Britain, than his present Majesty. The insinuation might have some effect on the credulous weakness of some ignorant people, who have harboured such an opinion; and I have heard the Quebec|bill alledged as a proof of it, by which, they said,

pope|ry was established in Canada, and the King had violated his coronation oath.

An examination of the Quebec bill, falls not within the compass of my design. It has undergone the scrutiny of much abler hands; some of which have affirmed, and others denied, that popery was thereby established. I dislike the bill, chiefly because it vests the Governor and his Council with exorbitant power. It is certain, however, that the popish clergy of Canada, complain of the bill, and think themselves in a worse situation by it, than the articles of ca|pitulation and surrender left them. By its exempting such Canadians as come over to the protestant religion, from pay|ing any ecclesiastical dues to their priests, it would seem, as if the bill was intended to diminish the number of papists. Be all this as it may, it is past any doubt, that the King did not in the least violate his coronation oath by assenting to that bill. This will evidently appear by inspecting the oath itself: and as the removal of mutual prejudices to faciliate a reconcilia|tion, is my principal view; as the oath is short, and has been seen by few, I shall here insert it. The coronation oath is administered by one of the archbishops or bishops, in the following words and manner—

The archbishop shall say, Will you solemnly promise and swear, to govern the people of this kingdom of England, and the dominions thereunto belonging, according to the statutes in parliament agreed on, and the laws and customs of the same? The King shall say, I solemnly promise so to do.

The archbishop. Will you, to your power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments? King. I will.

The archbishop. Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the laws of God; the true profession of the gospel,

and the protestant reformed religion, established by law? And will you preserve unto the bishops and clergy of this realm, and to the churches committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by the law do or shall apper|tain unto them, or any of them? King. All this, I pro|mise to do.

After this the King, laying his hand on the holy gospel, shall say, The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep: So help me God. And then shall kiss the book.

This is the coronation oath, and mode of administering it, as prescribed by law; and the reader must see that is has no more relation to the state of religion in Canada, a con|quered province, than to the state of religion in Minorca, a conquered island, the inhabitants of which are papists, and enjoy as great, if not greater privileges than the Canadians.

"But admitting," continues our author,

that we were all of English descent, what does it amount to? Nothing. Britain being now an open enemy, extinguishes every other name and title; and to say that reconciliation is a duty, is truly farcical.

Here the farcical argument meets me again; and what shall I say to it? I protest I do not understand it. I have searched for its meaning in vain; and have no hope of fathoming it, till the author is pleased to explain it* 1.1. But to the point in hand. If what would

promote our happiness and interest, to mention nothing else, be a duty, then reconciliation is our duty.

He elsewhere enlarges on this head.

Bring the doc|trine of reconciliation,

says he,

to the touch-stone of nature, and then tell me, whether you can hereafter love, honour and faithfully serve the power that carried fire and sword into your land!

All this, and a great deal more of the kind, can only proceed from a supposition of the author, that others are as vindictive and unforgiving as himself. When states go to war, mutual acts of hostility must necessarily ensue; and to think that no reconciliation should afterwards take place between them, is as contrary to every dictate of humanity and religion, as to think that a private person should never forgive a private injury, or be reconciled to him that offered it. I lament as much as any one, the blood that has been shed, and the devastation that has been made during this contest: But these have been comparatively small, if we consider the torrents of blood that have flowed, the wide-spread ruin that has attended the frequent destructive wars between England and Scotland; yet these nations are now happily united—they mutually love, honour, and faithfully serve each other.

The author refers us to the state of Boston, and paints the distresses of its inhabitants in the strongest colours, to stimulate the revenge of Americans, and banish every idea of reconciliation with Britain. I sincerely take part in the calamities of Boston, and other places that have suffered. I

feel the most tender sympathetic pity for the distresses of their inhabitants. But how the shedding of more blood, or spreading equal devastation along the whole sea coast of this continent—the inevitable consequences of not listening to re|conciliation—how these, I say, can alleviate the misfortunes of the people of Boston, or any other sufferers, in what I am not able to see.

"Much hath been said," he tells us,

of the united strength of Britain and the colonies; that in conjunction they might bid defiance to the world: But this is a mere presumption; the fate of war is uncertain—the next war may not turn out like the last.

But he chaunts quite another tune, when he would hold up the advantages of a separation from Britain. In that case he avers—

'Tis not in the power of England, or of Europe, to conquer Ame|rica—nay, our present numbers are sufficient to repell the force of the whole world!

—This is only one sample among a thousand, of the duplicity and contradiction which run through his pamphlet.

After telling us, what is very true, that we have no busi|ness to "set the world at defiance," he adds, as an induce|ment to separate from Britain—

Our plan is commerce; and that well attended to, will secure us the peace and friendship of Europe, because it is the interest of Europe to have America a free port. Her trade will always be a protection, and her barrenness of gold and silver will se|cure her from invaders.

—Yes, yes; no doubt, if Ame|rica were once to throw off her connection with Britain, the golden age would be restored! The Millennial state would commence.

Men would instantly beat their swords into plough-shears, and their spears into pruning hooks. Na|tion would not lift up sword against nation, not learn war any more.

Such are the happy times our author promises us, if America were an independent republic! But until he can give us some assurance that may be relied on, that am|bition, pride, avarice, and all that dark train of passions which usually attend them, will be extinguished in the hu|man breast, and will no more exert their baneful influence, I must beg leave to doubt the truth of his assertions—I must

question, whether we shall live in perpetual peace with Eu|rope, or even with each other, after our revolt from England.

The argument or reason he advances for it here, is con|tradicted by general experience and matter of fact. A flou|rishing trade naturally increases wealth; and for this and other reasons, as naturally leads to war. Carthage, Ve|nice and Holland—all commercial republics—were frequent|ly engaged in bloody wars, in the days of their prosperity. Nor is "barrenness of gold and silver" any security against war or invasions. Experience and fact are equally against this position. I never heard of the gold or silver mines of Flanders. The Low Countries are entirely barren of both; but they are remarkable for their fertility, good pasturage, manufactures, and formerly, for trade; yet I may say, each field there is a field of blood, and has been the scene of some dreadful carnage. Great-Britain and France have few or no gold and silver mines; yet they have been theatres of bloody wars, as long as any record we have of either reaches. On the other hand, South America supplies half the globe with gold and silver; and yet, strange to tell, on our author's principles, no rival power has ever contended with Spain or Portugal for the dominion of South America! No invaders have attempted to dispossess them.

The truth is, that mines producing those metals are ra|ther injurious than beneficial to any country. They unbrace the nerves of industry, induce sloth, and damp the spirit of commerce. Spain was one of the most flourishing, power|ful monarchies in Europe, when this continent was discover|ed. Peru and Mexico then poured their immense treasures into her lap, and have been doing so ever since; yet Spain, ever since, has been on the decline, and is dwindled, not|withstanding her gold and silver, into a state, I may say, of insignificance. The country that abounds in fertile fields and luxuriant pasturage—that produces the necessaries of life in abundance—that furnishes the various materials for in|dustry and art, and the articles for an extensive commerce; such a country, though barren of gold and silver, is the most inviting to ambition, the most exposed to invasions; and such a country is North-America.

But our author now waxes so exceedingly warm, and assumes so terrific an air, that I almost dread to approach him. "I challenge," says he,

the warmest advocate for reconciliation, to shew a single advantage that this coun|try can reap by being connected with Great-Britain, I re|peat the challenge, not a single advantage is derived.

The positive, dogmatical manner in which this challenge is repeated, reminds me of an observation made by the ex|cellent Dr. Beattie, which applies, in the present case, as exactly, as if this blustering challenge had given rise to its "In reading sceptical books," says the worthy Doctor,

I have often found, that the strength of the author's at|tachment to his paradox, is in proportion to its absurdi|ty. If it deviates but a little from common opinion, he gives himself but little trouble about it; if it be inconsis|tent with universal belief, he condescends to argue the matter, and to bring what, with him, passes for a proof of it; If it be such as no man ever did or could believe, he is still more conceited of his proof and calls it demonstration, but if it is inconceivable, it is a wonder if he does not take it for granted.

Our republican takes it for granted, that no advantage could result from our future connection with Great-Britain—a parodox which I think, must be utterly in|conceivable to every other human understanding. Brimful, however, of this conceit, he throws down his gauntlet, and offers this challenge; leaving his readers to stare a conveni|ent time, and to hesitate which they should admire most—the absurdity of taking this point for granted—or, the for|titude of face that could advance such a parodox.

I think it no difficult matter to point out many advantages which will certainly attend our reconciliation and connection with Great-Britain, on a firm, constitutional plan. I shall select a few of these; and that their importance may be more clearly discerned, I shall afterwards point out some of the evils which inevitably must attend our separating from Britain, and declaring for independency. On each article I shall study brevity.

1. By a reconciliation with Britain, a period would be put to the present calamitous war, by which so many lives

have been lost, and so many more must be lost, if it con|tinues. This alone is an advantage devoutly to be wished for. This author says—

The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, 'Tis time to part.

I think they cry just the reverse. The blood of the slain, the weep|ing voice of nature cries—It is time to be reconciled; it is time to lay aside those animosities which have pushed on Britons to shed the blood of Britons; it is high time that those who are connected by the endearing ties of religion, kindred and country, should resume their former friend|ship, and be united in the bond of mutual affection, as their interests are inseparably united.

2. By a Reconciliation with Great-Britain, Peace—that fairest offspring and gift of Heaven—will be restored. In one respect Peace is like health; we do not sufficiently know its value but by its absence. What uneasiness and anxie|ty, what evils, has this short interruption of peace with the parent-state, brought on the whole British empire! Let eve|ry man only consult his feelings—I except my antagonist—and it will require no great force of rhetoric to convince him, that a removal of those evils, and a restoration of peace, would be a singular advantage and blessing.

3. Agriculture, commerce, and industry would resume their wonted vigor. At present, they languish and droop, both here and in Britain; and must continue to do so, while this unhappy contest remains unsettled.

By a connection with Great-Britain, our trade would still have the protection of the greatest naval power in the world. England has the advantage, in this respect, of eve|ry other state, whether of ancient or modern times. Her insular situation, her nurseries for seamen, the superiority of those seamen above others—these circumstances to menti|on no other, combine to make her the first maritime power in the universe—such exactly is the power whose protection we want for our commerce. To suppose, with our author, that we should have no war, were we to revolt from England, is too absurd to deserve a confutation. I could just as soon set about refuting the reveries of some brain-sick enthusiast. Past experience shews that Britain is able to defend our com|merce,

and our coasts; and we have no reason to doubt of her being able to do so for the future.

5. The protection of our trade, while connected with Bri|tain, will not cost us a fiftieth part of what it must cost, were we ourselves to raise a naval force sufficient for the purpose.

6. Whilst connected with Great-Britain, we have a boun|ty on almost every article of exportation; and we may be better supplied with goods by her, than we could elsewhere. What our author says is true—

that our imported goods must be paid for, buy them where we will;

but we may buy them dearer, and of worse quality, in one place than another. The manufactures of Great-Britain confessedly surpass any in the world—particularly those in every kind of metal, which we want most; and no country can afford linens and woollens, of equal quality cheaper.

7. When a Reconciliation is effected, and things return into the old channel, a few years of peace will restore every thing to its pristine state. Emigrants will flow in as usual from the different parts of Europe. Population will advance with the same rapid progress as formerly, and our lands will rise in value.

These advantages are not imaginary but real. They are such as we have already experienced; and such as we may derive from a connection with Great-Britain for ages to come. Each of these might easily be enlarged on, and others added to them; but I only mean to suggest a few hints to the reader.

Let us now, if you please, take a view of the other side of the question. Suppose we were to revolt from Great-Bri|tain, declare ourselves Independent, and set up a Republic of our own—what would be the consequence?—I stand a|ghast at the prospect—my blood runs chill when I think of the calamities, the complicated evils that must ensue, and may be clearly foreseen—it is impossible for any man to fore|see them all. Our author cautiously avoids saying any thing of the inconveniences that would attend a separation. He does not even suppose that any inconvenience would attend it. Let us only declare ourselves independent, break loose from Great-Britain, and according to him, a Paradi|saical state will follow! But a prudent man will consider and

weigh matters well before he consents to such a measure—when on the brink of such a dreadful precipice, he must ne|cessarily recoil, and think of the consequences, before he advances a step forward. Supposing then we declared for Independency,—what would follow? I answer—

1. All our property throughout the continent would be unhinged; the greatest confusion, and most violent convul|sions would take place. It would not be here, as it was in England at the Revolution in 1688. That revolution was not brought about by any defeazance or disannulling the right of succession. JAMES II, by abdicating the throne, left it vacant for the next in succession; accordingly his eld|est daughter and her husband stept in. Every other matter went on in the usual, regular way; and the constitution, in|stead of being dissolved, was strengthened. But in case of our revolt, the old constitution would be totally subverted. The common bond that tied us together, and by which our property was secured, would be snapt asunder. It is not to be doubted but our Congress would endeavour to apply some remedy for those evils; but with all deference to that respect|able body, I do not apprehend that any remedy in their pow|er would be adequate, at least for some time. I do not chuse to be more explicit; but I am able to support my opinion.

2. What a horrid situation would thousands be reduced to who have taken the oath of allegiance to King; yet con|trary to their oath, as well as inclination, must be compelled to renounce that allegiance, or abandon all their property in America! How many thousands more would be reduced to a similar situation; who, although they took not that oath, yet would think it inconsistent with their duty and a good conscience to renounce their Sovereign; I dare say these will appear trifling difficulties to our author; but whatever he may think, there are thousands and thousands who would sooner lose all they had in the world, nay life itself, than thus wound their conscience. A Declaration of Indepen|dency would infallibly disunite and divide the colonists.

3. By a Declaration for Independency, every avenue to an accommodation with Great-Britain would be closed; the sword only could then decide the quarrel; and the sword

would not be sheathed till one had conquered the other.

The importance of these colonies to Britain need not be enlarged on, it is a thing so universally known. The great|er their importance is to her, so much the more obstinate will her struggle be not to lose them. The independency of America would, in the end, deprive her of the West-Indies, shake her empire to the foundation, and reduce her to a state of the most mortifying insignificance. Great-Britain there|fore must, for her own preservation, risk every thing, and exert her whole strength, to prevent such an event from taking place. This being the case—

4. Devastation and ruin must mark the progress of this war along the sea coast of America. Hitherto, Britain has not exerted her power. Her number of troops and ships of war here at present is very little more than she judged ex|pedient in time of peace—the former does not amount to 12,000 men—nor the latter to 40 ships, including frigates: Both she, and the colonies, hoped for and expected an ac|commodation; neither of them has lost sight of that desire|able object. The seas have been open to our ships; and al|though some skirmishes have unfortunately happened, yet a ray of hope still cheared both sides that, peace was not distant. But as soon as we declare for independency, every prospect of this kind must vanish. Ruthless war, with all its aggra|vated horrors, will ravage our once happy land—our sea|coasts and ports will be ruined, and our ships taken. Tor|rents of blood will be spilt, and thousands reduced to beg|gary and wretchedness.

This melancholy contest would last till one side conquered. Supposing Britain to be victorious; however high my opini|on is of British Generosity, I should be exceedingly sorry to receive terms from her in the haughty tone of a conqueror. Or supposing such a failure of her manufactures, commerce and strength, that victory should incline to the side of Ame|rica; yet who can say in that case, what extremities her sense of resentment and self-preservation will drive Great-Britain to? For my part, I should not in the least be sur|prized, if on such a prospect as the Independency of Ameri|ca, she would parcel out this continent to the different Eu|ropean

Powers. Canada might be restored to France, Flo|rida to Spain, with additions to each—other states also might come in for a portion. Let no man think this chi|merical or improbable. The independency of America would be so fatal to Britain, that she would leave nothing in her power undone to prevent it. I believe as firmly as I do my own existence, that if every other method failed, she would try some such expedient as this, to disconcert our scheme of independency; and let any man figure to himself the situation of these British colonies, if only Canada were restored to France!

5. But supposing once more that we were able to cut off every regiment that Britain can spare or hire, and to destroy every ship she can send—that we could beat off any other European power that would presume to intrude upon this continent: Yet, a republican form of government would neither suit the genius of the people, nor the extent of America.

In nothing is the wisdom of a legislator more conspicuous than in adapting his form of government to the genius, man|ners, disposition and other circumstances of the people with whom he is concerned. If this important point is overlook|ed, confusion will ensue; his system will sink into neglect and ruin. Whatever check or barriers may be interposed, nature will always surmount them, and finally prevail. It was chiefly by attention to this circumstance, that Lycurgus and Solon were so much celebrated; and that their respec|tive republics rose afterwards to such eminence, and acquired such stability.

The Americans are properly Britons. They have the manners, habits, and ideas of Britons; and have been ac|customed to a similar form of government. But Britons never could bear the extremes, either of monarchy or re|publicanism. Some of their Kings have aimed at despotism; but always failed. Repeated efforts have been made to|wards democracy, and they equally failed. Once indeed republicanism triumphed over the constitution; the despo|tism of one person ensued; both were finally expelled. The inhabitants of Great-Britain were quite anxious for the re|storation

of royalty in 1660, as they were for its expulsion in 1642, and for some succeeding years. If we may judge of future events by past transactions, in similar circumstances, this would most probably be the case of America, were a re|publican form of government adopted in our present ferment. After much blood was shed, those confusions would termi|nate in the despotism of some one successful adventurer; and should the Americans be so fortunate as to emancipate themselves from that thraldom, perhaps the whole would end in a limited monarchy, after shedding as much more blood. Limited monarchy is the form of government which is most favourable to liberty—which is best adapted to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and temper of Britons; although here and there among us a crack-brained zealot for democracy or absolute monarchy, may be sometimes found.

Besides the unsuitableness of the republican form to the genius of the people, America is too extensive for it. That form may do well enough for a single city, or small territo|ry; but would be utterly improper for such a continent as this. America is too unwieldy for the feeble, dilatory ad|ministration of democracy. Rome had the most extensive dominions of any ancient republic. But it should be re|membered, that very soon after the spirit of conquest car|ried the Romans beyond the limits that were proportioned to their constitution, they fell under a despotic yoke. A very few years had clapsed from the time of their conquering Greece and first entering Asia, till the battle of Pharfalia, where Julius Caesar put an end to the liberties of his coun|try. Caesar himself was the first who entirely subdued the Gauls, though near neighbours, and that penetrated into Britain. Had it not been for the rivalship between Sylla and Marius, who were a check upon each other, Rome had sur|rendered her liberties before to one or other of those tyrants. Holland is the most considerable republic in Europe, at present; yet the small kingdom of Ireland is more than twice as large as the Seven United Provinces. Holland, in|deed, has considerable colonies in the East and West Indies; but these are under as rigid and arbitrary an administration as any colonies of France or Spain.

The author of Common Sense, in his abundant care and providence, lays before the public a sketch of the govern|ment he would recommend. We thank him for his kind|ness; but dislike his ware. It is patch-work, and would make sad work in America. The principal outlines of this sketch seem to be taken from Mr. Harrington's Rota, which was too romantic even for the times of Cromwell. Our au|thor has made such alterations as he conceived would adapt it to America. It is as much in the democratic style as the Rota; and as improper for America, as the other was for England. I may truly say of it, and its author, so far as he may claim author-ship by it, what MONTESQUIEU said of Harrington and his Oceana, of which the Rota is a kind of abridgment—

For want of knowing the nature of real liberty, he busied himself in pursuit of an imaginary one; and he built a Chalcedon, though he had before his eyes a Byzantium.

To make way for this crude, wretched system, our author would destroy the best, the most beau|tiful political fabric which the sun ever beheld!

6. In fine. Let us, for a moment, imagine that an American republic is formed, every obstacle having been surmounted; yet a very serious article still remains to be en|quired into, viz. the expence necessary to support it. It be|hoves those who have any property, to think of this part of the business. As for our author, it is more than probable he has nothing to lose; and like others in the same predica|ment, is willing to trust to the chapter of accidents and chances for something in the scramble. He cannot lose; but may possibly again. His own maxim is certainly true—

The more men have to lose, the less willing are they to venture*;

and vice versa, say I.

It would be impossible to ascertain, with precision, the ex|pence that would be necessary for the support of this New Republic. It would be very great undoubtedly—it would appear intolerable to the Americans, who have hitherto paid so few taxes. I shall just hint at a few articles.—

Our author asserts the necessity of our having a na|val

force when independent. It is granted—we could not be without one. The reader, however, will not expect that I should either adopt, or formally refute his hopeful scheme—viz. That merchant ships, armed, shall be employed for our defence—that is to say—That ships, when on trading voyages to Europe, Africa, the East or West Indies, or tak|ing in their ladings at those places, shall defend the trade and coasts of America!

This, he says, would be uniting the sinews of commerce and defence, and making our strength and riches play into each others hands.

The thought, I believe, is original, and the plan entirely his own—it might entitle him to a distinguished seat among the sage professors of Laputa, who, according to SWIFT, were employed in

extracting sun-beams out of cucumbers, calcining ice in|to gun-powder, and making fire malleable,

and other such ingenious inventions.

This Gentleman thinks that,

50 or 60 ships, mount|ing 20, 30, 40, or 50 guns, with a few guard-ships, would keep up a sufficient navy.

Let us take a medium of the first of those numbers, and suppose the American navy to consist partly of fifty-five ships, each mounting 50 guns. The precise cost of building a 50 gun ship in Eng|land, is £.14,355 sterl. Fifty-five such ships would cost £.789,525 sterling.

Besides these, it would be necessary to have some larger ships; not only to act as "guardships," but to make our navy respectable, and without which it could nor answer the intended purpose. Ships of 74 guns are reckoned the most serviceable; and the British navy has at this time no less than forty-four such, that could be fitted for actual service on the shortest notice; besides about ten more of the same sort, most of which could be got ready in a little time. The Ameri|can navy would require at least thirty of these, and our har|bours in the middle and southern colonies, would not conve|niently admit larger ships. The cost of building a 74 gun ship in England, is exactly £.27,200 sterl. The cost of 30 such ships would be £716,000.

To the above ships it would be indispensibly necessary to add some frigates, which are very useful in securing the seas

and for various kinds of business where larger ships would be unwieldy, and not answer so well, Frigates of 32 guns, and ••0 guns, are reckoned the most serviceable. Twelve of each sort would be as few as our trade and coasts would re|quire. The cost of building a 32 gun frigate is £.7480 sterl. Twelve such frigates would amount to £.89,760 sterl. The building a 20 gun frigate costs in England £.4370 sterling; twelve such frigates would amount to £.52,440 sterling.

Cannon, small-arms, ammunition, anchors, cables, &c. are all separate articles from that of building; and are so ex|pensive, that a ship of war, when fitted for actual service, with six months pay and provisions, is generally reckoned, to cost one thousand pounds sterling for every gun. But as it would be difficult to ascertain precisely the expence of these—or that of docks, arsenals, founderies, rope-walks, manu|factories for sail-cloth, &c. &c. all which are necessary to|wards keeping up a regular navy, I shall not enter into a minute detail of them; but take them by the gross, and compute them at a third of the above cost. Considering the high price of labour in America, this computation will be deemed very moderate.

Let us now cast up those several articles of expence.

Expence of building 55 ships of 50 guns each	£.789,525
Ditto of building 30 ships of 74 guns each	716,000
Ditto of building 12 frigates of 32 guns	89,760
Ditto of building 12 frigates of 20 guns	52,440
Total	£.1,647,725
One third of this for cannon and other arti|cles above specified	£.542,575
Whole cost of the-navy	£.2,190,300

This number of ships, amounting to one hundred and nine, is a very moderate navy indeed for this continent. The British navy with which we are to contend, consists of two hundred and twenty-four ships, which may be fitted for sea on the shortest notice; and of these, twenty-one carry from 80 to 100 guns. On the British list are upwards of 300

ships, besides those building in the several dock-yards. The reader may rest assured that my intelligence in the preceding article of cost for constructing a navy, comes from the very best authority.

The annual expence is next to be considered. The cer|tain, annual expence of a 50 gun ship in England, and for which provision is always made by government, is £.18,200 sterl.—that of a 74 gun ship, is £.33,800 sterl. of a 32 gun frigate, £.11,440 sterl.—of a 20 gun frigate, £8,320. This is allowed for wear and tear, victualling and wages. Repairs and expence of ammunition, are different articles; which, as they cannot be ascertained, I shall pass over. The certain annual expence of an American fleet, consisting of the above ships, would therefore be as follows—

Annual expence of 55 ships of 50 guns each	£.1,001,000
Ditto of 30 ships of 74 guns	1,014,000
Ditto of 12 frigates of 32 guns	137,280
Ditto of 12 frigates of 20 guns	99,840
Total,	£.2,252,120

It is not improbable that the American fleet might very from this list, as to the number and size of the several ships, just as circumstances might require: Yet certain I am, that in case we became independent of England, a fleet equal in force to the above, and attended with equal expence, would be indespensibly necessary. If we are to have any foreign commerce, we must, like England, Holland, France, &c. keep ships of force in foreign parts, to protect that commerce; besides those which are necessary to defend our coasts, har|bours, and trade near home.

Considering our extensive line of sea-coast, and our no less extensive frontiers, along which so many thousands of savages are settled, I think America, when independent, cannot keep less than 30 regiments of infantry in constant pay, each regiment consisting of 700 men; the whole a|mounting to 21,000 men. The small republic of Holland has an army of 40,000 men in time of peace. As matters are now circumstanced throughout Christendom, no state can

preserve its independency without a standing army. The nation that would neglect to keep one, and a naval force, if it has any sea coast, must infallibly fall a prey to some of its ambitious and more vigilant neighbours.

The annual expence of an English regiment, consisting of 700 men, is nearly £.15,743 sterl: And the expence of raising, cloathing, and arming foot soldiers, is about £.6 a man; which will amount to £4,200 for a regiment of 700 men. Thus the annual expence of 30 regiments would be £.472,290 sterl; and the charge of raising, arming, &c. would be £.126,000 sterl. Moreover we should find it necessary to have some regiments of cavalry, to be distributed in or near the large towns and cities. Let us suppose six re|giments to be raised of 300 men each. The annual expence of an English regiment of dragoons, of 300 men, is nearly £.16,187 sterl. The annual expence of six such regiments would be £.97,122 sterl; besides the charge of horses, arming, &c. which is computed at 30 guineas per man, and would amount to about £56,700 sterl.

Let us now cast up those several sums of annual expence.

Annual expence of the navy	£.2,252,120
Ditto of 30 regiments of infantry	472,290
Ditto of 6 regiments of cavalry	97,122
Total expence, naval and military	£.2,821,532

The civil department still remains; and after considering it with as much exactness as the nature of the case will admit—after making an estimate of the salaries for Governors, Delegates, Judges, Ambassadors, Consuls, and that almost endless train of officers in various departments, which will be unavoidable, as soon as we become Independent, and which cost us nothing at present: The annual expence of America, when Independent, must greatly exceed THREE MILLIONS of pounds sterling—it will probably amount to three millions and an half. However, to avoid fractions, let it be stated at three millions—even this sum carries hor|ror in the very idea of it; and yet many deluded people flat|ter themselves that they will pay no taxes, if we are once In|dependent! Supposing then that Canada, Nova-Scotia, and

Florida were joined to the thirteen colonies now united, the number would be sixteen. The above sum equally di|vided among them would be £.187,500 sterl; which is nearly equal to 833,333 Spanish milled dollars, (reckoning a dollar at 4s.6d. sterl.) annual expence to each colony. But it should be observed, that Rhode-Island is a small colony—that the three little counties of Newcastle, Kent and Sussex upon Delaware, are reckoned as a colony—that Nova-Sco|tia, Georgia and Florida are very young colonies: None of these therefore could possibly contribute an equal share with the older and larger colonies; the expence of the latter must, of course, be proportionably greater, to make up the defi|ciency: Supposing the inhabitants of all these colonies amount to three millions—and I am of opinion their number is not greater—each individual, man, woman, and child, black and white, would have twenty shillings sterling, i. e. above four Spanish dollars to pay annually for defraying the public ex|pence. Or, taking every seventh person for a Taxable, which I think is near the usual proportion, and that this sum were to be paid by a Poll-tax, then every Taxable in the colonies must pay £.7 sterl. i. e. about 32 Spanish dollars annually for the public expence, over and above what he has paid in times past. Incase of war or any extraordinary emergency, those taxes must rise proportionably.

Besides this annual expence, there is an immense sum for constructing a navy and raising an army—

For constructing a navy	£.2,190,300
For raising, arming, &c. 30 regim. of Infantry	126,000
For raising, arming, &c. 6 regim. of Cavalry	56,700
Total,	£.2,373,000

This sum of two millions, three hundred and seventy-three thousand pounds sterling, joined to the sixteen millions of dollars, which I am informed the Honourable Congress has been obliged already to issue, besides as much more perhaps which they will find necessary to issue for the support of the war, if it continues, and the prodigious sums of paper cur|rency which the several colonies have struck, and must here|after

strike; will make a load of debt, that must prove ruin|ous to this continent.

I have not knowingly exaggerated a single article in the above estimate; and were the trial made, I verily believe the expence would be found much greater. For I have formed this estimate according to the state of things in England; but it is well known that wages and the price of labour in general, are much higher in America than in England. Labour must necessarily be dear in every country where land is cheap, and large tracts of it unsettled, as is the case here. Hence an American regiment costs us double what a British regiment, of equal number, costs Britain. Were it proper to be explicit, and descend to particulars, I could evince this past all possibility of doubt; and I appeal for the truth of it to those gentlemen among us who are acquainted with these matters.

Where the money is to come from which will defray this enormous annual expence of three millions, sterling, and all those other debts, I know not; unless the author of Common Sense, or some other ingenious projector, can discover the Philosopher's Stone, by which iron and other base metals may be transmuted into gold. Certain I am, that our commerce and agriculture, the two principal sources of our wealth, will not support such an expence. The whole of our ex|ports from the Thirteen United Colonies in the year 1769, amounted only to £.2,887,898 sterl.* 1.2; which is not so much, by near half a million, as our annual expence would be, were we Independent of Great-Britain. Those exports, with no inconsiderable part of the profits arising from them, it is well known, centered finally in Britain, to pay the merchants and manufacturers there for goods we had im|ported thence; and yet left us still in debt! What then must our situation be, or what the state of our trade, when op|pressed with such a burthen of annual expence! When eve|ry article of commerce, every necessary of life, together with our lands, must be heavily taxed, to defray that expence!

Such is the load of debt and expence we should incur by this Writer's hopeful exchange of our connection with Great

Britain for Independency and Republicanism! And all this, after being exhausted by a tedious war, and perhaps our shipping and sea-ports destroyed! This is a very serious mat|ter; which is obvious to every understanding, and which no sophistry can evade. All who have any prudence or com|mon sense left, or any property to lose, will pause and con|sider well, before they plunge themselves into such a dread|ful situation. How little do those who desire this situation, know what they are about, or what they desire.

Our author frequently refers us to Holland, as if that were the only land of liberty—crowned with every blessing, and exempt from every evil. But hear a little plain truth. The national debt of Holland is much greater, in propor|tion, than that of England. The taxes in Holland far ex|ceed not only those in England, but even those in France, insomuch that a certain writer declares he scarcely knows any thing they have which has escaped taxation, "except the air they breathe." Navy more,—the people at large have no voice in chusing the members of their several Senates, as we have in chusing Representatives. The members of each Senate, upon any vacancy, elect new members; and the deputies from those Senates, constitute the States Gene|ral. So that in fact, the people have no share in the government, as with us; "they have nothing to do but pay and grumble," as Lord Chesterfield observes. Yet this is the country our author holds up for imitation; and if we were to follow his advice, I have not the least doubt but we should soon resemble them in paying heavy taxes, as well as in every other matter.

But here it may be said—That all the evils above specified, are more tolerable than slavery. With this sentiment I sin|cerely agree—any hardships, however great, are preferable to slavery. But then I ask, is there no other alternative in the present case? Is there no choice left us but slavery, or those evils? I am confident there is; and that both may be equally avoided? Let us only shew a disposition to treat or negociate in earnest—let us fall upon some method to set a treaty or negociation with Great Britain on foot; and if once properly begun, there is a moral certainly that this

un|happy dispute will be settled to the mutual satisfaction and interest of both countries. For my part, I have not the least doubt about it.

It would be improper and needless for me to enlarge on the particulars that should be adjusted at such a treaty. The maturest deliberation will be necessary on the occasion, as well as a generous regard to every part of the Empire, I shall just beg leave to suggest my opinion on a few points—I think America should insist, that the claim of parliament|ary taxation be either explicitly relinquished; or else, such security given as the case will admit, and may be equivalent to a formal relinquishment, that this claim shall not be ex|erted. When this most important point is gained, America should consider, that there is a great difference between having her money wrested from her by others, and not giv|ing any of it herself, when it is proper to give. While she is protected, and shares in the advantages resulting from be|ing a part of the British Empire, she should contribute some|thing for that protection and those advantages; and I never heard a sensible American deny this. Moreover, she should stipulate for such a freedom of trade as is consistent with the general welfare of the State; and that this interesting object be settled in such a manner as to preclude, as much as possible, any impolitic, or injurious infringements here|after. All this may be easily done, if both sides are only disposed for peace; and there are many other particulars which would be exceedingly beneficial to America, and might be obtained, as they could not interfere with the in|terest of Great Britain or any other part of the empire. We have abundant proof of this as well as several good hints to proceed on, in the late concessions to Nova-Scotia from government.

But it may be asked—what probability is there that Bri|tain will enter on such a treaty, or listen to proposals of this kind? Is she not preparing for war, and fitting out a for|midable armament against the colonies? I answer—there is every reason to believe that she will enter on such a treaty, if it is desired; and that she will listen to reasonable propo|sals. It is her interest to do so. To hold these colonies

by the sword only, were she ever so powerful, would be holding them by a very precarious, expensive tenure. Such a Union with the Colonies as well promote their interest equally with her's, is the only effectual way of attaching them to her. Is it reasonable to suppose that Great Britain does not see this? Or that she is not sensible of it? Besides, it has been openly and expressly declared in Parliament that taxation is given up by the Ministry; we are also assured that some very respectable names have been lately added to the ad|vocates of America; and Commissioners have been appointed to treat with us. All these things are in our favour, and promise a prosperous issue to a negociation, if once begun. The British armament will not in the least impede a treaty. Belligerent-Powers, when on the eve of peace, always make as vigorous preparations for war, as if there was no thoughts of peace. America also is preparing for war, which is no more than a prudent step. It need not prevent her from treating; and she may thereby obtain better terms.

But a Declaration for Independency on the part of Ame|rica, would preclude treaty intirely; and could answer no good purpose. We actually have already every advantage of Independency, without its inconveniences. By a Decla|ration of Independency, we should instantly lose all assistance from our friends in England. It would stop their mouths; for were they to say any thing in our favour, they would be deemed rebels, and treated accordingly.

Our author is much elated with the prospect of foreign suc|cour, if we once declare ourselves Independent; and from thence promiseth us mighty matters. This, no doubt, is intended to spirit up the desponding—all who might shrink at the thought of America encountering, singly and unsupported, the whole strength of Great-Britain. I believe in my conscience, that he is as much mistaken in this, as in any thing else; and that this expectation is delusive, vain and fallacious. My reasons are these, and I submit them to the readers judgement.

The only European power from which we can possibly receive assistance, is France. But France is now at peace with Great-Britain; and is it probable that France would interrupt that peace, and hazard a war with the power which lately

reduced her so low, from a disinterested motive of aiding and protecting these Colonies? The fate of Corsica may teach us how ready European states are to act on disinterested motives, in such cases. France has now a pacific King; her finances are in a very ruinous state; both which circumstances will naturally tend to keep her quiet. If it be said—That the exclusive trade of America would be a sufficient inducement for France to engage on our side—I answer—That she never can have our exclusive trade, till the power of Great-Britain is totally annihilated. Now, supposing France were able to effect this—(a supposition not very probable)—yet the other European states are too jealous of her—too deeply interested in preserving a due ballance of power, which is a principal object in European politics, ever to suffer such an event to take place.

It is well known that some of the French and Spanish Colonists, not long since, offered to put themselves under the protection of England, and declare themselves Independent of France and Spain; but England rejected both offers. The example would be rather dangerous to states that have colo|nies—to none could it be more so than to France and Spain, who have so many and such extensive colonies.

The practice of courts are as much against us

in this, as in the instance our author mentions. Can any one ima|gine, that because we declared ourselves Independent of England, France would therefore consider us as really Inde|pendent! And before England had acquiesced, or made any effort worth mentioning to reduce us? Or can any one be so weak as to think, that France would run the risque of a war with England, unless she (France) were sure of some extraordinary advantage by it, in having the colonies un|der her immediate jurisdiction? If England will not protect us for our trade, surely France will not.

But I have some facts to alledge further on this head, which will have great weight with all sober, dispassionate persons. As for those who give themselves up to passion and prejudice, they are scarcely capable of judging. Like men who are drawn in and whirled about, by some impetuous vortex, they have lost the proper command of themselves.

The several European states who have colonies on this continent, or the adjacent islands, are exceedingly jealous of those colonies, left they should aspire to independency. He must be totally ignorant of the state of things in Europe who is not sensible of this. The great distance of America from Europe contributes to raise that jealousy; and it is height|ened by our growing strength and importance, and our en|terprizing spirit. Hence it was that France lately sent such a number of regular troops to Martinico; and disarmed all the inhabitants, to whom the defence of that island was chiefly committed formerly. The professed reason for dis|arming the inhabitants was to prevent their joining the North Americans in their contest with Great-Britain. This infor|mation comes from a gentleman who was then at Martinico, and lately arrived on this continent. The inhabitants of the French West-Indies, it is probable, would willingly join us, and shake off the despotic yoke under which they groan; but this disposition in them will only serve to alarm France the more, and induce the latter to oppose, rather than assist us.

Discountenancing our independency by France, would only be such a return as Britain will naturally expect, and most probably receive, for a similar conduct in her to the French inhabitants of Hispaniola. Not long after the conclusion of the late war, those inhabitants were driven by the most gla|ring oppression, to take up arms. The French Governor applied for assistance to the English Admiral, then on the West-India station. Several ships were sent immediately by the latter, with the promise of more, if necessary. The in|surrection was quelled by the Governor's insidiously drawing the leaders of the insurrection into a treaty, and then making prisoners of them—a circumstance not very inviting to place much faith in French promises or generosity.

The King of Denmark's late proclamation, in which he declares, that the estates of such of his subjects as shall join the Americans, will be forfeited, is a further proof of the dispo|sition of European powers, who have settlements in America.

Let any man calmly reflect on these particulars; and then judge whether it is probable that France or any other Euro|pean

state that has professions on this quarter of the globe, will contribute to erect an independent empire in America; especially when it is considered, that this new empire, from its proximity, must, sooner or later, infallibly swallow up those possessions. I am firmly of opinion, that our Decla|ration of Independency will have an effect directly contrary to what our author suggests, and what some warm people expect. I think it infinitely more likely that it will produce a coalition or treaty between the several European nations, who have settlements in America, to guarantee and secure their respective settlements to each other; than that any of these nations will co-operate with our design, and thereby lend a hand to injure themselves.

Nay, further; I can whisper a secret to the author of Common Sense, provided he will let it go no further—which is—That France and Spain have actually made an offer of their assistance to Great-Britain, in the present contest with the Colonies. This intelligence comes from such authority as would remove all doubt about the matter, even from our zealous Republican, were I at liberty to mention that autho|rity.

Indeed were France ever so willing and able to assist us, the experiment would be imprudent in us, and hazard|ous to the highest degree. There is scarcely an instance recorded in history of Foreigners being called in to assist in domestic quarrels, that it did not prove ruinous to those that sought their aid. The ancient Britons invited the Saxons to assist them against the Picts—the Picts were sub|dued; and the Britons enslaved. One instance more I can|not forbear mentioning. The Etolians and other Greek states called in the Romans to assist them against Philip of Macedon, one of Alexander's Successors. Philip was redu|ced; and the Roman yoke was imposed on the Grecian states. Sensible of their error, when it was too late, and anxious for deliverance from the Romans, the Etolians applied for Aid to Antiochus, who then possessed the remains of Alexander's Asiatic Dominions. The Romans now em|ployed Philip to subdue Antiochus and the Etolians, as be|fore they had employed the Etolians to subdue Philip. The

Roman yoke was more confirmed and made heavier. Were we to call in France on this occasion; and should our uni|ted force succeed against Britain, something similar to this would probably follow.

I have heard the case of Holland's revolt from Spain, and Queen Elizabeth's affording aid to the former, mentio|ned as parallel to ours. But instead of being parallel, the cases differ in every circumstance. Elizabeth, embarrassed greatly by Roman Catholics at home, was then at war with Philip IId. of Spain—a cruel, gloomy tyrant, who had late|ly introduced the inquisition into the low countries, where hundreds of his protestant subjects were sacrificed by that bloody court. This was the real cause of the Dutch revolt; though civil matters partly mingled with it. Elizabeth by as|sisting the Dutch, served two important purposes. One was to protect the protestants who were every where threatned with destruction. The other was, to distress her implaca|ble enemy, who aimed at no less than the utter ruin of her religion, crown and kingdom. The Dutch states offered Elizabeth the sovereignty of their country; but she refused it, having no design of that sort. It is more than probable the French king would not be so disinterested, modest and self-denying as Elizabeth was, were we to make him the like offer. Such was the case of Holland; yet some have been so silly as to compare our present case with that of the Dutch.

Consider this matter as you will, view the Declaration of Independency in what light you please; the ruin of Ameri|ca must be the inevitable consequence. Our author's ear|nestness and zeal therefore, that we should declare ourselves Independent, serves only to prove that he himself is despe|rate; and that he would gladly bring this whole continent in|to the same situation.

But our author repeatedly tells us—

That to expend so many millions for the sake of getting a few vile acts re|pealed, is unworthy of the charge.

Now to pass over the gross insult here offered to the Continental Congress, who had this important object principally in view, in the spirited measures they have taken: I answer—That if five times as many millions had been expended, America would be an

immense gainer, provided those acts are repealed, and her liberties, property, and trade, and settled on a firm basis, by a Constitutional Union with Great-Britain. Were that mea|sure once effected, the peace and prosperity of this continent would be as immutably and certainly secure as any thing in this world can. We should be the happiest people in the world. The Americans have fully evinced, to the convic|tion of the most incredulous, that they have an high sense of their liberties, and sufficient spirit to vindicate those li|berties. Their numbers, strength, and importance, will be daily increasing; these will command respect from Great|Britain, and insure to them a mild and equitable treatment from her. She will not hereafter be over anxious to con|tend, or come to blows with them. This I think is clear to demonstration; and hence we may learn to set a proper value on the rant which this author throws out, as if Ame|rica would be perpetually embroiled with England hereafter, unless we declare for independency.

For my part, I look upon this pamphlet to be the most injurious, in every respect, to America, of any that has appeared since these troubles began. Its natural and neces|sary tendency is, to produce jealousy, dissention and disunion among us. The Continental Congress, the several Provin|cial Congresses and Assemblies, have all unanimously and in the strongest terms, disclaimed every idea of Independency. They have repeatedly declared their abhorrence of such a step; they have as often declared their firm attachment to our Sovereign and the Parent State. They have declared that placing them in the same situation that they were at the close of the last war, was their only object; that when this was done, by repealing the obnoxious acts, our former har|mony and friendship would be restored. I appeal to the reader whether all this has not been done from one end of the continent to the other.

Yet here steps forth a writer, who avers with as much as|surance as if he had the whole continent at his back, and ready to support his asseverations.—That Independency is our duty and interest—That it was folly and rashness to go to the expence we have been at for sake of repealing those

obnoxious acts; and moreover, loads with the most oppro|brious terms, that Sovereign and Nation to which we had de|clared our attachment! In what light can this be viewed in Britain? Must it not weaken the influence of our friends—strengthen the hands of the ministry—and give weight to every thing our enemies have said to our disadvantage? Must it not induce people to suspect our candour—that all our declarations were insincere, fallacious—intended only to a|muse and deceive?—It is as much to vindicate my injured countrymen from this disgrace, which they deserve not, as to oppose the destructive project of Independency, that I ap|pear on this occasion—a project which is as new as it is de|structive.

I have now considered every thing in this Incendiary's pamphlet, that deserves notice. If some things are passed over, it is not because they are unanswerable; but because they are not worthy of an answer. I have on purpose omit|ted every subject, the discussion of which might tend to raise jealousy among the colonists; such as religion, the claims of some colonies on others, besides many more of the same kind. But it was more difficult to avoid speaking of these, than to point out what prolific sources of animosity, bitterness and bloody contests they must infallibly prove, were America to become independent. The whole is freely submitted to the reader's candid, dispassionate judgment.

The Author of Common Sense may probably call me

a disguised tory, a prejudiced man,

or what in his estimation

will be productive of more calamities to this continent than all others—a moderate man.

But I am too conscious of the sincerity of my own heart, and of the rectitude of my intentions, to pay any regard to whatever he is pleased to call me. Who indeed would be ambitious of his appro|bation, when he expressly reprobates Moderation—that offspring of true wisdom and sound judgment? The welfare of America is what I wish for above any earthly thing. I am fully, firmly and conscientiously persuaded, that our author's scheme of Independency and Republicanism, is big with ruin—with inevitable ruin to America. Against this scheme therefore, which totally changes the ground we set

out on, as an honest man, as a friend to human nature, I must and will bear testimony.

Let the spirit, design and motives which are undeniably evident in our respective pamphlets, decide which should be attended to most.

The author of Common Sense is a violent stickler for Democracy or Republicanism only—every other species of government is reprobated by him as tyrannical: I plead for that constitution which has been formed by the wisdom of ages—is the admiration of mankind—is best adapted to the genius of Britons, and is most friendly to liberty.

He takes pleasure in aggravating every circumstance of our unhappy dispute—would inspire others with the same rage that instigates himself, and would set his fellow subjects to cutting each others throats. I would most gladly, were it in my power, draw a veil of eternal oblivion over any er|rors which Great Britain or the colonies may have fallen into—I would willingly persuade them to mutual harmony and union; since on these their mutual happiness and inte|rest depend.

He is evidently goaded on by ambition and resentment, to seek for the gratification of those passions in an independent republic here; which would reduce America to the same desperate state with himself: I have no interest to serve but what is common to my countrymen—but what every Ame|rican of property is concerned in equally with me.

He places himself at the head of a party; and spurns from him with the utmost contempt and indignation, all who will not enlist under his banner: I am of no party, but so far as the welfare of America is aimed at; and I believe there are many who aim at this in every party. I have not learnt to pace with such intire acquiescence in the trammels of any party, as not to desert it, the moment it deserts the interest of my country.

He recommends a new, untried romantic scheme, at which we would at first have shuddered—which is big with in|evitable ruin, and is the last stage of political phrenzy. I am for pursuing the same object, and acting on the same princi|ples and plan with which we set out, when this contest began, and of whose success there is a moral certainty.

This, as far as I can know or see, is the true state of our case—let Heaven and Earth judge between us.

America is far from being yet in a desperate situation. I am confident she may obtain honourable and advantagious terms from Great Britain. A few years of peace will soon retrieve all her losses. She will rapidly advance to a state of maturity, whereby she may not only repay the parent state amply for all past benefits; but also lay under the greatest obligations. America, till very lately, has been the hap|piest country in the universe. Blest with all that nature could bestow with the profusest bounty, she enjoyed be|sides, more liberty, greater privileges than any other land. How painful is it to reflect on these things, and to look for|ward to the gloomy prospects now before us! But it is not too late to hope that matters may mend. By prudent ma|nagement her former happiness may again return; and con|tinue to encrease for ages to come, in a union with the pa|rent state.

However distant humanity may wish the period; yet, in the rotation of human affairs, a period may arrive, when, (both countries being prepared for it) some terrible disaster, some dreadful convulsion in Great Britain, may transfer the seat of empire to this western hemisphere—where the British constitution, like the Phoenix from its parent's ashes, shall rise with youthful vigour and shine with redoubled splendor.

But if America should now mistake her real interest—if her sons, infatuated with romantic notions of conquest and empire, ere things are ripe, should adopt this repub|lican's scheme: They will infalibly destroy this smiling pro|spect. They will dismember this happy country—make it a scene of blood and slaughter, and entail wretchedness and misery on millions yet unborn.

Quod Deus a nobis procul avertat.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  The author, elsewhere, recommends a manoeuvre, to which I apprehend, the word farcical may be properly applied. After kind|ly offering a republican form of government, which he desires may be adopted in America, he introduces a person asking this question—"But where is the King of America?" and then returns this an|swer—

  I'll tell you friend, he reigns above; and doth not make havock of mankind like the Royal Brute of Great-Britain.

  This pretty flower, with which he garnishes our Sovereign, seems to be culled rather from the bowers of Billinsgate, than those of Paradise, formerly mentioned. The reader cannot forbear seeing here the en|thusiasm of Fifth-monarchy men, and their rudeness too. Strange that this Republican's rage should blind him so that he cannot see what every body else sees—that—

  —"Want of decency is want of sense!"

  But to return. The farcical passage next follows—

  Yet that we may not appear defective in earth, honours, let a day be so|lemnly set apart for proclaiming the [continental] Charter: let it be brought forth placed on the divine law, the word of God; let a crown be placed thereon—But least any ill use should afterwards arise, let the crown, at the conclusion of the ceremony, be demo|lished, and scattered among the people whose gift it is.

  I now submit it to the reader's better judgment, whether this whole cere|mony is not highly farcical; especially as this Republican has given us the strongest suspicion that he has an equal regard for the word of God, and for Kings and monarchical government. If I am wrong in this conjecture. I utterly despair of success in finding out the meaning of this word.
• * 1.2

  See Campbell's Political Survey of Great-Britain, Vol. 2.