1776 2026
"Man knows no Master save creating Heaven
Or those whom choice and common good ordain."
— Thomson
This is an AI modernization of Common Sense into contemporary English. The original is available on Project Gutenberg.
The ideas in the following pages may not yet be popular enough to win widespread approval. When people have gone a long time without questioning whether something is wrong, it starts to look right on the surface, and the first reaction is always a loud outcry in defense of the way things have always been done. But that noise dies down quickly. Time makes more converts than reason.
When power has been violently abused for long enough, people naturally begin to question whether that power was ever legitimate in the first place — and they end up questioning things they never would have thought about if they hadn't been pushed to the breaking point. The King of England has taken it upon himself to personally back Parliament in what he calls their rights, and since the good people of this country are crushed under the weight of that partnership, they have every right to examine the claims of both King and Parliament — and to reject the overreach of either one.
In the pages that follow, I have deliberately avoided making this personal. I offer no flattery and no attacks on individuals. The wise and the worthy don't need a pamphlet to sing their praises, and those whose views are foolish or hostile will come around on their own — unless we waste too much energy trying to convert them.
The cause of America is, in large part, the cause of all humanity. Many issues have already come up, and more will arise, that aren't just local concerns but universal ones — issues that affect the principles of everyone who loves their fellow human beings, and in which their deepest feelings are at stake. The destruction of a country by fire and sword, the waging of war against the natural rights of all people, and the extermination of anyone who defends those rights — this is the concern of every person whom nature has given the ability to feel. And the author counts himself in that group, regardless of what anyone thinks.
THE AUTHOR
P.S. The publication of this new edition has been delayed in order to address any attempts to argue against the case for independence — if any such attempts had appeared. Since no response has come, it's now safe to assume that none will, since the window for producing one has long since passed.
As for who wrote this — that's entirely beside the point. What matters is the argument itself, not the person making it. But it may be worth saying that the author has no ties to any political faction and is influenced by nothing other than reason and principle.
Philadelphia, February 14, 1776
Some writers have confused society with government so badly that they've left almost no distinction between the two. But they aren't just different — they have completely different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness. Society promotes our happiness in a positive way, by bringing people together. Government does it in a negative way, by restraining our worst impulses. One encourages connection; the other creates divisions. Society is a patron. Government is a punisher.
Society, in every form, is a blessing. But government, even at its best, is nothing more than a necessary evil — and at its worst, an intolerable one. When we suffer the same miseries under a government that we'd expect to suffer in a country with no government at all, our pain is sharpened by knowing that we ourselves are paying for the very thing that's hurting us. Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence; the palaces of kings are built on the ruins of paradise. If everyone's conscience were clear, consistent, and impossible to ignore, we wouldn't need any other lawgiver. But since that's not the case, people find it necessary to give up part of their property to pay for the protection of the rest. And they do this based on the same common sense that, in every other situation, tells them to choose the lesser of two evils. So if security is the whole point and purpose of government, it follows beyond argument that whichever form of government is most likely to give us that security, at the least cost and greatest benefit, is the one we should prefer.
To get a clear picture of what government is supposed to do and why, let's run a thought experiment. Imagine a small group of people settling in some remote part of the world, completely cut off from everyone else. They represent the first peopling of any country — or of the world itself. In this state of natural freedom, their first thought will be to form a society. A thousand reasons will push them toward it. No single person is strong enough to meet all their own needs, and no human mind is built for permanent isolation. So very quickly, each person is driven to seek help from another — who, in turn, needs help right back. Four or five people working together could build a decent shelter in the middle of a wilderness, but one person alone might work their entire life and never finish anything. After they felled their timber, they couldn't move it. After they moved it, they couldn't put it up. Meanwhile, hunger would pull them away from work, and every different need would pull them in a different direction. Even a non-fatal sickness or a run of bad luck could be a death sentence — not because the illness or misfortune itself would kill them, but because it would leave them unable to take care of themselves. They wouldn't so much die as slowly waste away.
So necessity, like gravity, would quickly pull our newly arrived settlers into a society. And the mutual benefits of that society would make laws and government unnecessary — as long as everyone treated each other fairly. But since nothing except heaven is immune to vice, here's what will inevitably happen: as these settlers overcome the early hardships that originally bound them together in a common cause, they'll start slacking off in their duties and commitments to one another. And that backsliding will make it obvious that they need some form of government to make up for what moral virtue alone can't provide.
Some convenient tree will serve as their State House. Under its branches, the whole colony can gather to discuss public business. Their first laws will probably be called "regulations" more than anything else, enforced by nothing more than social disapproval. In this first parliament, every person will have a seat by natural right.
But as the colony grows, its public business will grow too. And as people spread out farther from each other, it'll become too inconvenient for everyone to show up for every meeting the way they did when the settlement was small, everyone lived close together, and their shared concerns were few and minor. This will naturally lead them to agree to hand the lawmaking part over to a select group chosen from among them all — people who are assumed to have the same stake in things as those who elected them, and who will act the way the whole group would act if they could all be present. As the colony keeps growing, it'll become necessary to increase the number of representatives. To make sure every part of the colony gets its voice heard, it'll make sense to divide the whole territory into districts, each sending its own representatives. And to make sure these elected officials never develop interests separate from the people who elected them, common sense will point out the wisdom of holding elections frequently. That way, the representatives will return after just a few months and mix back in with the general population, and the simple thought of not making a rod for their own backs will keep them honest. This regular rotation will create a shared interest between every part of the community, so that the people and their representatives will naturally support each other. And it's on this — not on the meaningless title of "king" — that the strength of government and the happiness of the governed depend.
Here, then, is the origin and rise of government: namely, a system made necessary because moral virtue alone isn't enough to govern the world. And here too is the purpose of government: freedom and security. No matter how much our eyes may be dazzled by spectacle, or our ears fooled by impressive words — no matter how much prejudice warps our thinking, or self-interest clouds our judgment — the simple voice of nature and reason will say: this is right.
I take my idea of what government should look like from a principle found in nature, one that no clever design can overturn: the simpler something is, the less likely it is to break down, and the easier it is to fix when it does. With that principle in mind, let me offer a few observations about that much-celebrated English constitution. I'll grant that it was impressive for the dark and oppressive times in which it was created. When the world was overrun with tyranny, even a small step away from it felt like a glorious rescue. But the fact that this constitution is deeply flawed, prone to crises, and incapable of delivering what it seems to promise? That's easy to demonstrate.
Absolute governments — though they're a disgrace to human nature — have one advantage: they're simple. If the people suffer, they know exactly where their suffering comes from, they know the remedy, and they're not lost in a maze of competing causes and cures. But the English constitution is so ridiculously complicated that the nation can suffer for years without being able to figure out where the problem lies. Some will blame one part, some another, and every political doctor will prescribe a different medicine.
I know it's hard to get past deeply rooted prejudices. But if we're willing to actually examine the building blocks of the English constitution, we'll find them to be the leftover remains of two ancient tyrannies, mixed in with some newer democratic elements.
First: the remnants of monarchical tyranny, in the person of the King.
Second: the remnants of aristocratic tyranny, in the persons of the nobility.
Third: the new democratic materials, in the persons of the House of Commons, on whose virtue the freedom of England depends.
The first two, being hereditary, are completely independent of the people. So in any constitutional sense, they contribute nothing whatsoever to the freedom of the state.
To say that the English constitution is a union of three powers that keep each other in check is either meaningless or an outright contradiction.
To say that the House of Commons serves as a check on the King assumes two things:
First: that the King can't be trusted without being watched — or, in other words, that a hunger for absolute power is the natural disease of monarchy.
Second: that the Commons, being appointed for this purpose, are either wiser or more trustworthy than the Crown.
But here's the problem. The same constitution that gives the Commons power to check the King by withholding funding also turns around and gives the King power to check the Commons by letting him reject their bills. So the constitution simultaneously assumes the King is less wise than the Commons and more wise than the Commons. A complete absurdity!
There's something deeply ridiculous about how monarchy works in practice. First, it cuts a person off from the very information they need — then it gives them the power to make decisions requiring the highest judgment. Being a king isolates you from the world. But the job of being a king requires you to understand it completely. These different parts of the arrangement, by working against each other, prove the whole thing to be absurd and useless.
Some writers have explained the English constitution this way: the King, they say, represents one interest; the people represent another; the House of Lords speaks on behalf of the King; and the House of Commons speaks on behalf of the people. But this has all the hallmarks of a house divided against itself. And though the description sounds neat when you arrange the words nicely, when you actually examine it, it falls apart. It will always be the case that the most clever arrangement of words, when applied to something that either can't exist or is too tangled up to describe, will produce nothing but pleasant sounds — words that may please the ear but can't inform the mind. Because this explanation raises a question it can't answer: how did the King come by a power that the people are afraid to trust and always have to keep in check? Such a power could never be the gift of a wise people. And no power that constantly needs checking could come from God. Yet the very design of the constitution assumes such a power exists.
But here's the thing: the supposed safeguard doesn't actually work. The means can't — or won't — accomplish the end. The whole arrangement is an act of self-destruction. The greater weight will always overpower the lesser, and just as all the gears in a machine are driven by one main force, the only question is which branch of the constitution carries the most weight — because that one will govern. The other parts may slow it down, or as the saying goes, "check" its speed, but as long as they can't actually stop it, their efforts are useless. The driving force will get its way in the end. What it lacks in speed, it makes up for in time.
That the Crown is this dominant force in the English constitution hardly needs to be stated. And that it gets all its influence simply by being the one who hands out government jobs and pensions is self-evident. So though we have been wise enough to shut and lock a door against absolute monarchy, we have at the same time been foolish enough to put the Crown in possession of the key.
The fondness of the English for their own system of government by King, Lords, and Commons comes more from national pride than from reason. Individuals are undoubtedly safer in England than in some other countries. But the will of the King is just as much the law of the land in Britain as it is in France — the only difference being that instead of coming directly from the King's mouth, it's handed to the people in the more intimidating form of an act of Parliament. The fate of Charles the First only made kings more subtle — not more just.
So, setting aside all national pride and prejudice in favor of familiar systems and traditions, the plain truth is this: whatever freedom exists in England is owed entirely to the character of the English people, not to the design of the English government. Without that character, the Crown would be every bit as oppressive in England as it is in Turkey.
An investigation into the constitutional flaws of the English system of government is urgently needed right now. Just as we can never be in a position to do justice to others while we're under the influence of some deep bias, we can't do justice to ourselves while we're chained to an old prejudice. A man who's devoted to a bad relationship is in no position to choose or judge a good one. In the same way, any attachment to a broken system of government will make it impossible for us to recognize a good one.
Since all of mankind was originally created equal, that equality could only have been destroyed by something that came later. The distinction between rich and poor can mostly be explained without resorting to harsh words like oppression and greed. Oppression is often the result of wealth, but rarely the cause of it. And while greed might keep a person from going broke, it usually makes them too scared to ever get truly rich.
But there's another, far greater distinction — one that has no natural or religious justification — and that's the division of people into kings and subjects. Male and female are distinctions of nature. Good and bad are distinctions made by heaven. But how one group of men came to be so elevated above everyone else, set apart like some separate species — that's worth looking into. And it's worth asking whether they've been a source of happiness or misery for the human race.
In the early ages of the world, according to the biblical timeline, there were no kings. And the result? There were no wars. It's the pride of kings that throws the world into chaos. Holland, without a king, has enjoyed more peace over the last century than any of the monarchies in Europe. History backs this up: the quiet, rural lives of the first biblical patriarchs have a certain peacefulness about them that vanishes the moment we get to the story of Jewish royalty.
Government by kings was first introduced to the world by pagan nations, and the children of Israel copied the idea from them. It was the most successful scheme the Devil ever launched for the promotion of idol worship. The pagans gave divine honors to their dead kings, and the Christian world improved on the plan by doing the same for their living ones. How blasphemous it is to apply the title of "sacred majesty" to a worm who, in the midst of all his splendor, is crumbling into dust!
Since elevating one person so far above the rest can't be justified by the equal rights of nature, neither can it be defended by scripture. The will of God, as declared through Gideon and the prophet Samuel, expressly disapproves of government by kings. Every anti-monarchical passage in the Bible has been conveniently glossed over in countries ruled by monarchies — but these passages absolutely deserve the attention of nations that still have the chance to design their own governments. "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's" is a line beloved by royal courts, but it's no endorsement of monarchy. At the time those words were spoken, the Jews didn't even have a king — they were living under Roman occupation.
Nearly three thousand years passed from the biblical account of creation before the Jews, under a national delusion, demanded a king. Until then, their form of government — except in extraordinary cases where God intervened directly — was essentially a republic, administered by a judge and the elders of the tribes. They had no kings, and it was considered sinful to give that title to anyone but God himself. And when you seriously consider the idol-like worship that people heap upon kings, it's no wonder that God, jealous of his honor, would reject a form of government that so outrageously invades the rights of heaven.
Monarchy is listed in scripture as one of the sins of the Jews — a sin that brought a curse upon them. The story of how that happened is worth telling.
When the children of Israel were being oppressed by the Midianites, Gideon marched against the enemy with a small army, and — through divine intervention — won the victory. The Jews, thrilled by the success and crediting it to Gideon's military genius, proposed making him king, saying: "Rule over us — you, your son, and your son's son." Here was temptation at its most extreme: not just a kingdom, but a hereditary one. But Gideon, with genuine devotion, replied: "I will not rule over you, and neither shall my son rule over you. The Lord shall rule over you." These words couldn't be clearer. Gideon doesn't just turn down the honor — he denies their right to offer it. He doesn't flatter them with polite thank-yous. Instead, speaking with the blunt authority of a prophet, he charges them with disloyalty to their true king — the King of Heaven.
About a hundred and thirty years later, the Jews made the same mistake again. Their craving to imitate the customs of the pagan nations around them is truly baffling — but that's what happened. Seizing on the misconduct of Samuel's two sons, who had been entrusted with certain civil duties, they came to Samuel in a noisy, demanding mob and said: "Look, you're getting old, and your sons don't follow your ways. Give us a king to judge us, like all the other nations have."
Notice that their motives were terrible — they wanted to be like the other nations, meaning the pagans, when their true glory lay in being as different from those nations as possible. Samuel was deeply displeased when they said, "Give us a king to judge us." He prayed to the Lord, and the Lord said to Samuel: "Listen to what the people are saying. It's not you they've rejected — it's me. They've rejected me as their ruler. This is the same thing they've been doing ever since I brought them out of Egypt — forsaking me and worshiping other gods. They're doing to you exactly what they've done to me. So grant their request. But warn them solemnly. Tell them what a king will really be like."
And Samuel told the people everything the Lord had said. He warned them: "Here's what a king will do. He'll take your sons and draft them into his service — for his chariots, for his cavalry, to run before his processions." (This matches perfectly with the modern practice of forcing men into military service.) "He'll appoint officers over thousands and officers over fifties. He'll put your people to work plowing his fields and harvesting his crops, and manufacturing his weapons of war and equipment for his chariots. He'll take your daughters to be his perfumers, his cooks, and his bakers." (This describes the expense and luxury of kings, as well as the oppression.) "He'll seize your best fields and your olive groves and your vineyards and hand them to his cronies. He'll take a tenth of your grain and your wine and give it to his officials and servants." (So we see that bribery, corruption, and favoritism are the permanent vices of kings.) "He'll take your male and female servants, and your strongest young men, and your donkeys, and put them all to work for himself. He'll take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his servants. And when that day comes, you will cry out because of the king you chose — and the Lord will not answer you."
This explains why monarchy, once established, continues: not because it works, but because the people are trapped by it. And the few good kings who have appeared over the centuries don't make the institution sacred or erase the sin of its origins. The Bible's highest praise of David, for example, celebrates him as "a man after God's own heart" — not as a king. Nevertheless, the people refused to listen to Samuel. They said: "No! We want a king over us, so we can be like the other nations, and have our king judge us, go out before us, and fight our battles." Samuel kept reasoning with them, but it was useless. He pointed out their ingratitude, but nothing worked. Finally, seeing that they were set on their foolishness, he cried out: "I will call upon the Lord, and he will send thunder and rain" — which was a punishment, since it was wheat harvest season — "so you can see how wicked this thing is that you've done in the sight of the Lord, in asking for a king." So Samuel called upon the Lord, and the Lord sent thunder and rain that day, and all the people were terrified. They said to Samuel: "Pray to the Lord your God for us, so that we won't die — for we've added to all our other sins this evil: asking for a king."
These passages of scripture are direct and unmistakable. They don't allow for any wiggle room. Either the Almighty has here entered his formal protest against monarchical government, or the scripture is false. And there's good reason to believe that there's as much royal propaganda in suppressing these parts of the Bible as there was priestly propaganda in keeping the scriptures from the public in Catholic countries. Because monarchy in every instance is the Popery of government.
To the evil of monarchy, we've added the evil of hereditary succession. If monarchy is a degradation and a diminishing of ourselves, then hereditary succession — claimed as a right — is an insult and an imposition on future generations. Since all people were originally equals, no one could have the right to set up his own family in permanent preference over everyone else forever. A man might deserve some degree of honor from the people of his own time — but his descendants might be completely unworthy of inheriting that honor. One of the strongest natural proofs of the absurdity of hereditary right in kings is that nature herself disapproves of it. Otherwise, she wouldn't so frequently turn it into a joke by giving the world an ass when it needed a lion.
Second, since the first leader could only possess whatever honors the people chose to give him, those people had no power to give away the rights of future generations. They could say, "We choose you to lead us." But they could not, without committing a gross injustice to their children, say, "Your children and your children's children shall rule over ours forever." Because such an unwise, unjust, and unnatural arrangement might, in the very next generation, put everyone under the rule of a fool or a villain. Most wise people, in their honest private opinions, have always treated hereditary right with contempt. Yet it's one of those evils that, once established, isn't easily removed. Many people submit out of fear, others out of superstition, and the most powerful members of society share in the king's plunder of everyone else.
All this assumes that today's royal families had honorable origins. But it's more than likely that if we could strip away the fog of ancient history and trace these families back to their beginnings, we'd find that the first of them was nothing more than the head thug of some restless gang — a man whose savage behavior or superior cunning earned him the title of chief among criminals. As his power grew and his raids expanded, he bullied peaceful, defenseless people into buying their safety with regular payments. Even so, the people who first chose him couldn't have imagined they were granting hereditary power to his descendants, because permanently giving up their own rights would have contradicted the very principles of freedom they claimed to live by. So in the early days of monarchy, hereditary succession wasn't an established right — it was just something that happened by accident or as a formality. But since few or no records existed in those days, and oral history was stuffed with myths, it was easy enough, after a few generations, to invent some convenient legend — timed just right, like Muhammad's revelations — to cram hereditary right down people's throats. And perhaps the chaos that broke out, or threatened to break out, whenever a leader died and a new one had to be chosen (after all, elections among thugs aren't exactly orderly affairs) led many people to accept hereditary succession out of convenience. Which is how it happened, as it has happened many times since, that what people originally accepted as a practical arrangement was eventually claimed as a sacred right.
England, since the Norman Conquest, has had a few good monarchs but has suffered under a far larger number of terrible ones. And no one in their right mind can claim that the royal line descending from William the Conqueror has an honorable origin. A French bastard landing with an armed gang of thugs and making himself king of England against the will of the people is, in plain terms, a pretty pathetic and disgraceful beginning. It certainly has nothing divine about it. But honestly, there's no point spending much time debunking hereditary right. If there are people weak enough to believe in it, let them worship the ass and the lion equally, and welcome to it. I won't copy their humility, and I won't disturb their devotion.
Still, I'd love to ask: how do they think the first kings came to power? The question has only three possible answers: by lottery, by election, or by force. If the first king was chosen by lottery, that sets a precedent for the next one — which rules out hereditary succession. Saul was chosen by lot, yet the succession was never hereditary, and there's no indication it was ever meant to be. If the first king of any country was chosen by election, that also sets a precedent for every king after him. To say that the decision of those first voters — choosing not just a king, but a whole family of kings forever — took away the rights of every future generation has no parallel in scripture or out of it except the doctrine of original sin, which holds that the free will of all humanity was lost through Adam. And from that comparison — which is the only one that fits — hereditary succession can claim no glory. For just as in Adam all people sinned, so in the first election all people were bound to obey. Just as through one act all of humanity was subjected to Satan, through the other all were subjected to a sovereign. Just as our innocence was lost in the first case and our freedom in the second — and just as both prevent us from reclaiming what we once had — it follows, undeniably, that original sin and hereditary succession are perfect parallels. What a dishonorable rank! What an inglorious connection! Yet the cleverest debater alive can't come up with a more fitting comparison.
As for seizing power by force — no one is going to defend that. And the fact that William the Conqueror was a usurper is simply beyond dispute. The plain truth is that the history of the English monarchy doesn't hold up to scrutiny.
But it's not so much the absurdity of hereditary succession that matters — it's the damage it does. If it guaranteed a line of good and wise rulers, it might have some claim to divine approval. But since it opens the door to fools, tyrants, and incompetents, it is oppression by its very nature. People who are raised to believe they were born to rule — and that everyone else was born to obey — quickly become arrogant. Isolated from the rest of humanity, their minds are poisoned early on by a sense of their own importance. The world they live in is so different from the real world that they have almost no understanding of the public's true needs. And when they finally take the throne, they are frequently the most ignorant and unqualified people in the entire nation.
Another problem with hereditary succession is that the throne can end up in the hands of a child. During those years, the regency — ruling behind the cover of a young king — has every opportunity and incentive to betray the public trust. The same disaster happens when a king, worn out by age and illness, enters the final stage of human weakness. In both cases, the nation becomes prey to every schemer who can exploit the vulnerabilities of the very young or the very old.
The most popular argument ever made in favor of hereditary succession is that it prevents civil wars. If this were true, it would be a powerful point. But it's the most brazen lie ever foisted on the human race. The entire history of England disproves it. Thirty kings and two minors have reigned in that troubled kingdom since the Conquest, during which time there have been — including the Revolution — no fewer than eight civil wars and nineteen rebellions. So instead of creating peace, hereditary succession actively destroys it, undermining the very stability it claims to provide.
The battle for the crown between the houses of York and Lancaster plunged England into a bloodbath that lasted years. Twelve full-scale battles were fought between Henry and Edward, not counting skirmishes and sieges. Twice Henry was Edward's prisoner, and then Edward became Henry's. The fortunes of war shifted so wildly — when the only stakes were personal power — that Henry was paraded in triumph from a prison to a palace while Edward was forced to flee from a palace to a foreign country. But since sudden reversals of fortune rarely last, Henry was soon driven from the throne again, and Edward was recalled to replace him. Parliament, as always, followed whichever side was winning.
This bloody contest began during the reign of Henry VI and wasn't fully settled until Henry VII, who united the two families — a period spanning sixty-seven years, from 1422 to 1489.
In short, monarchy and hereditary succession have drenched not just one kingdom but the entire world in blood and ashes. It's a form of government that the word of God testifies against, and blood will always follow it.
If we look at what a king actually does, we'll find that in some countries they do nothing at all. They wander through their lives without bringing pleasure to themselves or benefit to the nation, then exit the stage and leave their successors to repeat the same pointless routine. In absolute monarchies, the king handles all civil and military affairs — which is exactly what the children of Israel had in mind when they demanded a king, asking "that he may judge us, go out before us, and fight our battles." But in countries where the king is neither a judge nor a general — as in England — you'd be hard-pressed to figure out what he actually does.
The closer any government gets to a republic, the less there is for a king to do. It's actually hard to find the right name for England's government. Sir William Meredith called it a republic, but in its current state, it doesn't deserve that name. The corrupt influence of the Crown, which controls all political appointments, has so thoroughly swallowed up the power and eaten away the integrity of the House of Commons — the republican part of the constitution — that the government of England is nearly as monarchical as France or Spain. People argue over labels without understanding what they mean. Because it's the republican part of the English constitution that the English people are proud of — namely, the freedom to elect a House of Commons from among their own people. And it's easy to see that when republican virtue dies, slavery follows. Why is the English constitution sick? Because monarchy has poisoned the republic. The Crown has devoured the Commons.
In England, a king has little to do besides make war and hand out government jobs — which, in plain terms, means impoverishing the nation and setting people against each other. A pretty nice gig, being paid eight hundred thousand pounds a year and worshiped on top of it! Of more worth is one honest man to society, and in the sight of God, than all the crowned ruffians that ever lived.
In the following pages I offer nothing more than simple facts, plain arguments, and common sense. The only thing I ask of the reader is this: set aside your prejudices and assumptions, let your reason and your feelings guide you, and think beyond just today. Hold on to the best qualities of your character — or rather, don't let go of them — and take the broadest possible view of what lies ahead.
Volumes have been written about the struggle between England and America. People from all walks of life have jumped into the debate, for different reasons and with different goals, but none of it has mattered. The time for debate is over. Now it comes down to arms, as a last resort. The King chose to escalate this to violence, and the continent has accepted the challenge.
It's been reported that the late Mr. Pelham — a capable minister, though not without his flaws — when criticized in the House of Commons for only pursuing temporary measures, replied: "They will last my time." If such a cowardly and selfish attitude were to take hold in the colonies during this crisis, future generations would remember our names with disgust.
The sun never shined on a cause of greater worth. This isn't the affair of a city, a county, a province, or a kingdom — it's the affair of a continent, of at least one-eighth of the habitable world. This isn't the concern of a day, a year, or a generation. Future generations are directly involved in this fight, and will be affected by what happens now, even to the end of time. Now is the planting season for continental unity, faith, and honor. The smallest crack now will be like a name carved with the tip of a pin into the bark of a young oak tree — the wound will grow with the tree, and our descendants will read it in full-grown letters.
By shifting the matter from argument to armed conflict, a new era in politics has begun, and a new way of thinking has emerged. All plans, proposals, and so on from before April 19th — that is, before the fighting started at Lexington and Concord — are like last year's almanac: useful at the time, but obsolete and worthless now. Whatever was argued by advocates on either side of the question back then came down to the same goal: reunion with Great Britain. The only difference was the method — one side proposed force, the other proposed friendship. But force has failed, and friendship has withdrawn her influence.
Since so much has been said about the advantages of reconciliation — which, like a pleasant dream, has faded and left us right where we were — it's only fair that we examine the other side of the argument. Let's look at the many real injuries these colonies suffer, and will always suffer, by being connected to and dependent on Great Britain. Let's examine that connection and dependence based on the principles of nature and common sense, and figure out what we can count on if we separate, and what we can expect if we stay dependent.
I've heard some people claim that because America flourished under its former connection with Great Britain, that same connection is necessary for its future happiness and will always produce the same results. Nothing could be more misleading than this kind of reasoning. We might as well say that because a child thrived on milk, it should never eat solid food — or that the first twenty years of our lives should set the pattern for the next twenty. But even this gives the argument too much credit, because I'll say it plainly: America would have flourished just as much, and probably much more, if no European power had ever gotten involved. The trade that has enriched America consists of the necessities of life, and those will always find a market as long as people in Europe need to eat.
"But Britain has protected us," some people say. What Britain has done is monopolize us — that's the truth. And yes, Britain has defended the continent, but at our expense as well as its own. Britain would have defended Turkey for the same reason: for the sake of trade and power.
We've been led astray for too long by old assumptions and made enormous sacrifices to outdated loyalty. We've bragged about Britain's protection without stopping to consider that Britain's motive was self-interest, not affection. Britain didn't protect us from our enemies for our sake — she protected us from her enemies for her own sake, enemies who had no quarrel with us except through our British connection, and who will remain our enemies only as long as that connection lasts. If Britain dropped her claims over the continent, or if the continent threw off the dependence, we'd be at peace with France and Spain even when they were at war with Britain. The miseries of Hanover during the last war should serve as a warning against such entanglements.
It has recently been claimed in Parliament that the colonies have no relationship with each other except through the parent country — that is, that Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and so on for the rest, are "sister colonies" only by way of England. This is certainly a roundabout way of proving kinship, but it's the clearest possible way of proving hostility. France and Spain never were, and probably never will be, our enemies as Americans — only as subjects of Great Britain.
"But Britain is the parent country," some say. Then all the more shame on her behavior. Even wild animals don't devour their young, and even the most warlike people don't wage war against their own families. So the claim, if true, only makes Britain look worse. But it isn't really true, or only partly so. The phrase "parent country" or "mother country" has been dishonestly adopted by the King and his flatterers as a manipulative trick to play on our trusting minds. Europe, not England, is the parent country of America. This new world has been the refuge for persecuted lovers of civil and religious freedom from every part of Europe. People fled here not from a mother's loving embrace, but from the cruelty of a monster. And it's true of England specifically that the same tyranny that drove the first settlers from their homes still pursues their descendants today.
In this vast part of the world, we leave behind the tiny boundaries of a country just 360 miles across, and our sense of brotherhood extends far wider. We claim kinship with every European Christian and take pride in the generosity of that feeling.
It's interesting to notice how naturally we overcome local prejudice as our world expands. A man born in any English town will naturally feel closest to his fellow parishioners — because they share common interests — and will call them "neighbors." If he meets one of them a few miles from home, he drops the narrow notion of street and greets him as a "townsman." If he travels to another county, he forgets the distinctions of street and town and calls him a "countryman." But if they happen to meet in France or anywhere else in Europe, that local identity expands into "Englishman." By the same logic, all Europeans meeting in America, or in any other part of the world, are countrymen. England, Holland, Germany, Sweden — when measured against the whole globe, they stand in the same relationship as streets, towns, and counties do on a smaller scale. Those are distinctions too narrow for continental minds. Not even a third of the inhabitants of this province are of English descent. So I reject the phrase "parent country" or "mother country" as applied to England alone — it is false, selfish, narrow, and ungracious.
But even if we were all of English descent, what would it matter? Nothing. Since Britain is now an open enemy, every other label is irrelevant. And to say that reconciliation is our duty is truly laughable. The first king of England from the current line, William the Conqueror, was a Frenchman, and half the nobles of England descend from the same country. So by the same logic, England should be governed by France.
Much has been said about the combined strength of Britain and the colonies — that together, they could defy the entire world. But this is pure fantasy. The outcome of any war is uncertain, and besides, this continent would never allow its people to be drained away to fight Britain's wars in Asia, Africa, or Europe.
What business do we have trying to defy the whole world anyway? Our plan is commerce, and if we manage that well, it will secure us the peace and friendship of all Europe — because it's in Europe's interest for America to be a free trading port. Our trade will always be our protection, and our lack of gold and silver will keep invaders away.
I challenge the most passionate advocate of reconciliation to name a single advantage this continent gains from being connected to Great Britain. I repeat the challenge: not one single advantage. Our grain will fetch its price in any market in Europe, and our imported goods must be paid for regardless of where we buy them.
But the injuries and disadvantages we suffer from that connection are endless. And our duty to humanity at large, as well as to ourselves, demands that we break the alliance. Because any submission to, or dependence on, Great Britain directly drags this continent into European wars and quarrels, and puts us at odds with nations who would otherwise be our friends — nations we have no argument with and no complaint against. Since Europe is our market for trade, we should form no exclusive alliance with any one part of it. America's true interest is to steer clear of European conflicts, which it can never do while its dependence on Britain makes it a pawn in British political games.
Europe is packed too tightly with kingdoms to stay at peace for long. Whenever war breaks out between England and any foreign power, American trade is ruined because of our connection with Britain. The next war might not go as well as the last one, and if it doesn't, even the people arguing for reconciliation now will be wishing they'd pushed for separation — because in that case, neutrality would be a safer shield than any warship. Everything that is right or natural argues for separation. The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries: it is time to part. Even the distance at which God placed England and America is strong, natural proof that one was never meant to rule the other. The timing of the continent's discovery adds weight to the argument, and the way it was settled makes it even stronger. The Protestant Reformation came after the discovery of America, as if God graciously meant to open a sanctuary for the persecuted when their homelands would offer them neither friendship nor safety.
British authority over this continent is a form of government that sooner or later must come to an end. No serious person can take real comfort in looking ahead under the painful certainty that what they call "the present constitution" is merely temporary. As parents, we can find no joy in knowing this government isn't lasting enough to protect anything we leave to our children. And by straightforward reasoning, since we're running the next generation into debt, we owe it to them to do the work ourselves. Otherwise, we're treating them shamefully. To see our duty clearly, we should take our children by the hand and imagine ourselves a few years into the future. That vantage point will reveal a prospect that our present fears and prejudices are hiding from view.
Though I'd prefer to avoid giving unnecessary offense, I believe that everyone who supports reconciliation falls into one of these categories: self-interested people, who can't be trusted; weak people, who can't see the truth; prejudiced people, who won't see it; and a certain class of moderate people, who think better of the European world than it deserves. This last group, through their well-meaning but misguided caution, will cause this continent more harm than the other three combined.
Many people have the good fortune of living far from the scene of suffering. The crisis hasn't reached their doorsteps enough to make them feel how fragile all American property really is. But let's transport ourselves for a moment to Boston. That seat of misery will teach us wisdom and instruct us to forever reject a power we can never trust. The people of that unfortunate city, who just months ago were comfortable and prosperous, now have no choice but to stay and starve, or leave and beg. If they stay, they're endangered by fire from their own allies. If they leave, they're robbed by soldiers. In their present condition, they're prisoners without hope of rescue, and if a full-scale attack were launched to free them, they'd be caught in the crossfire of both armies.
People with passive temperaments look somewhat casually past Britain's offenses, and still hoping for the best, are quick to say: "Come on, come on, we'll be friends again after all this." But examine the passions and feelings of human nature. Put the doctrine of reconciliation to the test of natural human emotion, and then tell me — can you, after everything, love, honor, and faithfully serve the power that has brought fire and sword into your land? If you cannot do all of these things, then you are only fooling yourselves, and your delay is bringing ruin on the next generation. Your future relationship with Britain — a power you can neither love nor honor — will be forced and unnatural, built only on temporary convenience, and will soon collapse into a situation even worse than the first.
But if you say you can still overlook the violations, then I ask: Has your house been burned? Has your property been destroyed before your eyes? Are your wife and children without a bed to sleep in or bread to eat? Have you lost a parent or a child at their hands, and are you yourself the ruined and wretched survivor? If you haven't suffered these things, then you are not in a position to judge those who have. But if you have, and you can still shake hands with the murderers, then you are unworthy of the name of husband, father, friend, or lover, and whatever your rank or title in life, you have the heart of a coward and the spirit of a sycophant.
I'm not exaggerating or trying to inflame emotions. I'm testing these questions against the feelings and affections that nature itself justifies — feelings without which we'd be incapable of fulfilling our duties to one another or enjoying the good things in life. I don't mean to display horrors for the sake of provoking revenge, but to wake us from a dangerous and unmanly sleep so that we can pursue a clear and definite course of action. It is not in the power of Britain or of Europe to conquer America, if America does not conquer herself through delay and timidity. The present winter is worth an age if rightly used, but if lost or wasted, the whole continent will share in the disaster. And there is no punishment too harsh for any person — whoever they are, whatever they are, wherever they are — who throws away a season so precious and so critical.
It goes against all reason, against the natural order of things, and against every example from history to suppose that this continent can remain subject to any foreign power much longer. Even the most optimistic people in Britain don't think so. The furthest stretch of human wisdom cannot, right now, devise any plan short of separation that can guarantee the continent even a single year of security. Reconciliation is now a pipe dream. Nature has abandoned the connection, and no amount of political skill can take her place. As Milton wisely wrote: "Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep."
Every peaceful method has been tried and has failed. Our petitions have been rejected with contempt, and have only confirmed that nothing feeds a king's vanity or hardens his stubbornness more than repeated begging — and nothing has done more to make the kings of Europe into absolute rulers. Look at Denmark and Sweden. So since nothing but force will do, for God's sake, let us make a final separation, and not leave the next generation to be at each other's throats under the hollow and meaningless labels of "parent" and "child."
To say they'll never try it again is naive and foolish. We thought the same thing after the repeal of the Stamp Act, and within a year or two we learned otherwise. We might as well assume that nations defeated once in war will never pick the fight back up.
On the subject of government: it isn't in Britain's power to do this continent justice. The workload will soon be too heavy and too complex to be managed with any reasonable efficiency by a power so distant from us and so ignorant of our affairs. If they can't conquer us, they can't govern us. Always having to send a message three or four thousand miles with a complaint or a request, then wait four or five months for an answer, and then spend another five or six months explaining it — in a few years, that will be seen as pure foolishness and childishness. There was a time when it was appropriate, and there is a proper time for it to stop.
Small islands that can't defend themselves are natural candidates for larger kingdoms to take under their wing. But there is something utterly absurd about a continent being perpetually governed by an island. Nature has never made the satellite larger than its primary planet. And since England and America reverse the natural order in their size relationship, it's clear they belong to different systems — England to Europe, America to itself.
I'm not making this case out of pride, partisanship, or resentment. I am clearly, firmly, and conscientiously convinced that independence is the true interest of this continent. Everything short of that is just patchwork — it can't provide lasting security. Anything less means leaving the sword to our children and shrinking back at the very moment when a little more, a little further, would have made this continent the glory of the earth.
Since Britain has shown not the slightest interest in compromise, we can be sure that no terms worth accepting by the continent — or anywhere near equal to the expense in blood and treasure we've already paid — are going to be offered.
The objective we fight for should always be proportional to the cost. Getting rid of Lord North, or even the whole despicable ruling clique, is a goal unworthy of the millions we've spent. A temporary halt in trade would have been a fair price for the repeal of all the acts we complained about, if those repeals had actually come. But if the whole continent must take up arms, if every man must become a soldier, it's hardly worth our while to fight just against a pathetic ministry. We are paying dearly, dearly, for the repeal of those acts, if that's all we're fighting for. In honest terms, it's just as foolish to pay a Bunker Hill price for a law as it is for a piece of land. I've always seen the independence of this continent as something that would happen sooner or later, and given how rapidly the continent has been maturing, that day couldn't have been far off. So when the fighting broke out, it wasn't worth arguing over something time would have eventually resolved — unless we meant to be serious about it. Otherwise, it's like spending a fortune on a lawsuit to deal with trespassing by a tenant whose lease is about to expire anyway. No one wanted reconciliation more than I did before the fatal nineteenth of April, 1775. But the moment news of what happened that day at Lexington reached me, I rejected the hardened, cold-hearted Pharaoh of England forever. I have nothing but contempt for a wretch who, with the pretended title of "father of his people," can hear of their slaughter without flinching and sleep peacefully with their blood on his soul.
But suppose everything were patched up right now — what would happen? I'll tell you: the ruin of the continent. And here's why.
First: The power of government would still rest in the King's hands. He would have veto power over all legislation on this continent. And since he has proven himself such a determined enemy of liberty, with such a thirst for absolute power — is he, or is he not, the right person to say to these colonies, "You shall make no laws except what I approve"? Is there anyone in America so uninformed as to not know that, under what's called "the present constitution," this continent can pass no law without the King's permission? Is there anyone so foolish as to not see that — given everything that's happened — he will only allow laws that serve his purposes? We can be just as effectively enslaved by the absence of our own laws in America as by being forced to obey laws made for us in England. After things are supposedly "made up," can there be any doubt that the full power of the Crown will be used to keep this continent as weak and submissive as possible? Instead of moving forward, we'd be going backward — or perpetually quarreling and pathetically petitioning. We are already larger than the King wants us to be. Won't he try to make us smaller? Let me bring it down to one question: Is a power that is jealous of our growth a fit power to govern us? Anyone who answers "No" to that question is, in effect, an advocate for independence. Because independence means nothing more than this: whether we shall make our own laws, or whether the King — the greatest enemy this continent has, or ever could have — shall tell us, "There shall be no laws but the ones I approve."
"But the King has veto power in England too," you might say. "The people there can't make laws without his consent either." True — and on that point, it's honestly ridiculous that a twenty-one-year-old (which has often been the case) can tell millions of people older and wiser than himself: "I forbid this or that to become law." But I won't go down that road here, though I'll never stop pointing out how absurd it is. My point is simply this: since England is the King's home and America is not, that makes all the difference. The King's veto power here is ten times more dangerous than it is in England. In England, he would hardly refuse to approve a bill strengthening England's defenses. In America, he would never allow such a bill to pass.
America is only a secondary concern in British politics. England looks after this country's interests only as far as it serves England's own purposes. So England's self-interest leads her to suppress our growth in every case that doesn't benefit her or that interferes with her plans even slightly. What a lovely situation we'd be in under that kind of secondhand government, considering everything that's already happened! People don't change from enemies to friends just because you call the arrangement something new. And to show that reconciliation right now is a dangerous idea, consider this: it would actually be smart politics for the King to repeal the offensive acts — just to get himself back into power over the colonies. That way, he could accomplish through cunning and manipulation, over the long run, what he couldn't do through force and violence in the short run. Reconciliation and ruin are closely related.
Second: Even the best terms we could hope for would amount to nothing more than a temporary fix — a kind of government-by-babysitter that could only last until the colonies come of age. In the meantime, everything would be unsettled and uncertain. People of means wouldn't choose to move to a country whose government hangs by a thread and teeters on the edge of upheaval every day. And many current residents would use the opportunity to sell off their property and leave the continent entirely.
But the most powerful argument of all is this: nothing but independence — that is, a continental form of government — can keep the peace on this continent and prevent civil war. I dread the thought of reconciliation with Britain now, because it would more than likely be followed by a revolt somewhere, and the consequences could be far worse than anything Britain has done to us.
Thousands have already been ruined by British brutality, and thousands more will probably suffer the same fate. Those people have feelings that the rest of us, who haven't lost everything, can't fully understand. All they have left is their freedom. Everything they once owned has been sacrificed in its defense. Having nothing more to lose, they reject submission. Besides, the general attitude of the colonies toward British government will be like that of a teenager counting the days until they turn eighteen — they won't care much about following its rules. And a government that can't keep the peace is no government at all. In that case, we'd be paying our taxes for nothing. And what exactly could Britain do, when its authority would exist only on paper, if a civil uprising broke out the very day after reconciliation? I've heard some people say — many of whom, I believe, spoke without thinking — that they feared independence because it might lead to civil wars. Our first instincts are rarely correct, and this is a perfect example. There is ten times more to fear from a patched-up connection with Britain than from independence. I put myself in the shoes of the victims, and I swear: if I were driven from my house and home, my property destroyed, my life ruined — then as a human being who feels his injuries, I could never accept the doctrine of reconciliation or consider myself bound by it.
The colonies have shown such a strong spirit of good order and obedience to continental government that any reasonable person should feel confident on that score. Nobody has any legitimate reason for worry, except on grounds that are honestly childish and ridiculous — namely, that one colony will try to dominate another.
Where there are no class distinctions, there can be no superiority. Perfect equality offers no temptation. The republics of Europe are, and pretty much always have been, at peace. Holland and Switzerland have no wars, foreign or domestic. Monarchies, on the other hand, are never at rest for long. The crown itself is a temptation to ambitious thugs at home, and the pride and arrogance that always accompany royal authority swell into conflicts with foreign powers — conflicts that a republic, being built on more natural principles, would have resolved through negotiation.
If there's any real cause for anxiety about independence, it's because no plan has been laid out yet. People can't see the path forward. So as a way of opening that discussion, I offer the following suggestions — modestly acknowledging that I think of them as nothing more than starting points that might inspire something better. If the scattered thoughts of individuals were gathered together, they would often provide raw material for wise leaders to shape into something useful.
Let the colonial assemblies meet annually, with only a President. Make representation more equal. Let their business be entirely domestic, and subject to the authority of a Continental Congress.
Let each colony be divided into six, eight, or ten convenient districts, with each district sending a proper number of delegates to Congress, so that each colony sends at least thirty. That would put the total number in Congress at no less than 390. Each Congress should sit and choose a President by the following method: when the delegates have assembled, draw one of the thirteen colonies by lot. Then let the full Congress choose, by ballot, a President from among the delegates of that colony. For the next Congress, draw from only the remaining twelve colonies, leaving out the one that provided the previous President, and continue this rotation until all thirteen colonies have had their turn. And to make sure that nothing becomes law without being truly just, require no less than three-fifths of Congress to constitute a majority. Anyone who would stir up conflict under a government as fairly designed as this one would have joined Lucifer in his rebellion.
But since there is a delicate question about who should initiate this process and how, and since it seems most fitting for this to come from some body that stands between the governed and the governors — that is, between the Congress and the people — let a Continental Conference be held in the following manner and for the following purpose:
A committee of twenty-six members of Congress — two from each colony; two members from each colonial Assembly or Provincial Convention; and five representatives of the people at large, to be chosen in the capital city or town of each colony by as many qualified voters as choose to attend from across the colony for that purpose (or, if more convenient, chosen in two or three of the most populated areas). In this conference, so assembled, the two great principles of governance — knowledge and power — would be united. The members of Congress, Assemblies, and Conventions, having experience in national affairs, would be able and useful advisors, and the whole body, empowered by the people, would carry truly legitimate authority.
Once the conference members have gathered, their task should be to draft a Continental Charter, or Charter of the United Colonies — the equivalent of what England calls the Magna Carta — establishing the number and method of choosing members of Congress and members of the Assemblies, their terms of service, and drawing the line of authority between them. Always remembering that our strength is continental, not provincial. The charter should secure freedom and property for all people, and above all, the free exercise of religion according to the dictates of individual conscience, along with whatever other provisions are necessary. Immediately after drafting the charter, the conference should dissolve, and the bodies chosen under its terms should become the lawmakers and leaders of this continent. May God preserve their peace and happiness. Amen.
Should any group of people be appointed in the future for this or a similar purpose, I offer them this passage from the wise political observer Dragonetti: "The science of the politician consists in fixing the true point of happiness and freedom. Those men would deserve the gratitude of ages, who should discover a mode of government that contained the greatest sum of individual happiness, with the least national expense." — Dragonetti, On Virtue and Rewards
But where, some ask, is the King of America? I'll tell you, friend: he reigns above, and does not make havoc of mankind like the Royal Brute of Great Britain. Yet so that we don't appear lacking even in earthly honors, let a day be solemnly set apart for proclaiming the charter. Let it be brought out and placed on the divine law, the Word of God. Let a crown be placed upon it, so that the world may know that in America, as far as we approve of monarchy, the law is king. For in absolute governments, the King is law — but in free countries, the law ought to be king, and there should be no other. And to prevent any future abuse, let the crown, at the end of the ceremony, be destroyed and scattered among the people, whose right it is.
A government of our own is our natural right. When you seriously consider how uncertain human affairs are, you'll realize that it is infinitely wiser and safer to create our own constitution now, in a calm and deliberate way while we still have the chance, than to leave such a momentous event to time and luck. If we pass up this opportunity, some Massanello may rise up in the future — some demagogue who, seizing on popular discontent, gathers together the desperate and the angry and, by claiming the powers of government for themselves, sweeps away the continent's freedoms like a flood.
[Note: Thomas Anello, known as Massanello, was a fisherman from Naples who in 1647 rallied his countrymen in the public marketplace against the oppressive rule of Spain, which controlled Naples at the time. He led them to revolt and within a single day was proclaimed king — a cautionary tale of how power vacuums invite strongmen.]
Should the government of America fall back into Britain's hands, the unstable state of things would tempt some desperate adventurer to seize power. And in that case, what help could Britain provide? Before she even heard the news, the deed might already be done, and we'd be suffering like the wretched Britons under the boot of William the Conqueror. You who oppose independence now — you don't know what you're doing. You are opening a door to permanent tyranny by leaving the seat of government empty. There are thousands, and tens of thousands, who would consider it glorious to drive from this continent the barbarous and hellish power that has stirred up both Native peoples and enslaved Africans to destroy us. That cruelty carries a double guilt: it is brutal toward us, and treacherous toward them.
To talk about friendship with people our reason tells us we cannot trust, and whom our wounds — suffered a thousand times over — instruct us to despise, is madness and folly. Every day erodes the little that remains of kinship between us and them. Can there be any reason to hope that as the relationship dies, affection will somehow grow? Or that we'll get along better when we have ten times more and far bigger issues to fight about than we've ever had?
You who preach harmony and reconciliation — can you give us back the time that's been lost? Can you restore innocence to what's already been violated? You can no more reconcile Britain and America. The last cord is now broken. The people of England are writing addresses against us. There are injuries that nature cannot forgive — she would stop being nature if she did. The lover cannot forgive the one who ravaged what he loves, any more than this continent can forgive the murders committed by Britain. God has planted in us these unquenchable feelings for good and wise purposes. They are the guardians of His image in our hearts. They are what distinguish us from common animals. The social contract itself would dissolve, and justice would be wiped from the face of the earth, if we were numb to these feelings. Robbers and murderers would often escape punishment if the injuries we feel didn't provoke us to seek justice.
O you that love mankind! You that dare oppose, not only the tyranny, but the tyrant, stand forth! Every spot of the old world is overrun with oppression. Freedom has been hunted around the globe. Asia and Africa have long driven her out. Europe treats her like a stranger, and England has given her notice to leave. Oh, receive the fugitive — and prepare in time an asylum for all mankind.
I have never met a single person, in England or America, who didn't admit that a separation between the two countries would happen sooner or later. And there is no topic on which we've shown less good judgment than in trying to figure out the "right time" for the continent to become independent.
Since everyone agrees it will happen and only disagrees about when, let's clear up the confusion and take a broad look at where things stand — and try, if we can, to identify the exact right moment. But we don't have to look far. The search ends immediately, because the time has found us. The way everything has come together at once — this remarkable union of circumstances — proves it.
Our great strength lies not in numbers but in unity. And yet our current numbers are already enough to hold off the forces of the entire world. The continent has, right now, the largest body of armed and trained men of any nation on earth. We've arrived at exactly the sweet spot of strength where no single colony can go it alone, but all the colonies united can get the job done. Any more or any less than this, and the results could be disastrous. Our land forces are already sufficient. As for the navy — let's be honest, Britain would never have allowed an American warship to be built while the colonies were still under her control. So even a hundred years from now, we wouldn't be any further along in that department than we are today. In fact, we'd be worse off, because the timber in this country is shrinking every year, and what's left will eventually be far away and hard to get.
If the continent were packed with people, our suffering under the current situation would be unbearable. The more seaport towns we had, the more we'd have to both defend and lose. As it stands, our population is perfectly matched to our needs — nobody has to sit idle. The drop in trade has freed up men to serve in the army, and the needs of the army have created new trade opportunities.
We currently have no national debt. And whatever debt we take on in this cause will serve as a proud reminder of our courage. If we can leave future generations with a stable form of government — a constitution of their own — whatever price we pay will be a bargain. But to spend millions just to get a few bad laws repealed and kick out the current administration, only to stay under the same system? That is a waste. Worse than that, it's a cruel thing to do to our children and grandchildren, because it leaves them the hard work still to do — plus a pile of debt they get nothing from. That kind of thinking is beneath any decent person. It's the mark of a small heart and a petty politician.
Any debt we take on is nothing to worry about, as long as the work gets done. No nation should be entirely without debt. A national debt is a national bond of shared purpose, and when it carries no interest, it's no burden at all. Britain is crushed under a debt of over 140 million pounds sterling, on which she pays over 4 million in interest every year. And what does she have to show for it? A large navy. America has no debt and no navy — yet for one-twentieth of what Britain owes, we could build a navy twice as large. Britain's entire navy, right now, isn't worth more than three and a half million pounds sterling.
The first and second editions of this pamphlet were published without the following calculations, which are now provided as proof that the estimate above is accurate. (See Entick's Naval History, introduction, page 56.)
Here is the cost of building a ship of each size, fully equipped with masts, yards, sails, and rigging, plus eight months' worth of boatswain's and carpenter's supplies, as calculated by Mr. Burchett, Secretary to the Navy:
Cost per ship (pounds sterling): 100 guns ........ 35,553 90 guns ........ 29,886 80 guns ........ 23,638 70 guns ........ 17,785 60 guns ........ 14,197 50 guns ........ 10,606 40 guns ........ 7,558 30 guns ........ 5,846 20 guns ........ 3,710
From these figures, it's easy to add up the value — or rather, the cost — of the entire British navy, which in 1757, at the peak of its power, consisted of the following:
Ships Guns Cost Each Total Cost (pounds sterling) 6 100 guns 35,553 213,318 12 90 guns 29,886 358,632 12 80 guns 23,638 283,656 43 70 guns 17,785 764,755 35 60 guns 14,197 496,895 40 50 guns 10,606 424,240 45 40 guns 7,558 340,110 58 20 guns 3,710 215,180 85 Sloops, bombs, and fireships (average) 2,000 170,000 ---------- Ship costs 3,266,786 Remaining for guns 233,214 ---------- Total 3,500,000
No country on earth is as well positioned — or as naturally equipped — to build a fleet as America. Tar, timber, iron, and rope are all produced right here. We don't need to import a single thing. Compare that to the Dutch, who make huge profits renting their warships to Spain and Portugal but have to import most of their materials. We should think of shipbuilding as a business, because it's a natural industry for this country. It's the best investment we can make. A finished navy is worth more than it costs to build. And it hits that perfect intersection where trade and national defense reinforce each other. Let's build. If we don't need the ships ourselves, we can sell them — and replace our paper money with gold and silver in the process.
When it comes to staffing a fleet, most people have it wrong. You don't need a crew that's three-quarters seasoned sailors. The privateer ship Terrible, under Captain Death, saw some of the fiercest fighting of the last war, and she had fewer than twenty experienced sailors on board, despite carrying a crew of over two hundred. A small number of capable, team-minded sailors can quickly train enough ordinary men to do the everyday work of running a ship. So we could not possibly be in a better position to start building a navy than right now — while our timber is still standing, our fishing industry is shut down, and our sailors and shipbuilders are out of work. Warships of seventy and eighty guns were built in New England forty years ago. Why not now? Shipbuilding is America's greatest strength, and in time, we'll surpass the entire world at it. The great empires of the East are mostly landlocked and can't compete. Africa is undeveloped. And no power in Europe has both our length of coastline and our internal supply of raw materials. Where nature has given one of these advantages, she's held back the other. Only to America has she been generous with both. The vast Russian Empire is almost entirely cut off from the sea, so its endless forests, tar, iron, and rope are just things to sell, not the foundation of a navy.
And what about safety? Can we afford to go without a fleet? We're not the small, scattered population we were sixty years ago, when we could have left our belongings in the street — or the fields, really — and slept with our doors and windows wide open. Things have changed. Our defenses need to keep up with our growing wealth. Just twelve months ago, a common pirate could have sailed right up the Delaware River and held the city of Philadelphia hostage for whatever ransom he wanted. The same could have happened to any number of other places. Any bold rogue in a small warship with fourteen or sixteen guns could have raided the entire continent and sailed off with half a million dollars. These are real dangers that demand our attention and make the case for a navy impossible to ignore.
Some people will say: once we patch things up with Britain, she'll protect us. Are we really naive enough to think she'd station a navy in our harbors for that purpose? Common sense tells us that the power that tried to conquer us is the last one we should trust to defend us. Conquest can come disguised as friendship. After a long and brave resistance, we could still end up tricked into slavery. And if her ships aren't welcome in our harbors, how exactly is she supposed to protect us? A navy three or four thousand miles away is barely useful and, in an emergency, completely useless. So if we're going to have to defend ourselves eventually anyway, why not start now? Why do it for someone else's benefit?
Britain's official list of warships is long and impressive-looking, but not even a tenth of them are fit for service at any given time. Many don't actually exist anymore — their names are kept on the list as long as a single plank of the ship survives. And not even a fifth of the ones that are fit for service can be sent to any one place at one time. The East Indies, West Indies, the Mediterranean, Africa, and all the other regions where Britain claims authority drain her navy constantly. Out of a mix of prejudice and lazy thinking, we've built up a wildly exaggerated image of the British Navy, as if we'd have to face the whole thing at once, and therefore need an equally large fleet of our own. That being obviously impossible, certain disguised Tories have used this argument to discourage us from even starting. Nothing could be further from the truth. If America had just one-twentieth of Britain's naval strength, we'd have her outmatched — because we have no foreign territories to patrol. Our entire fleet would be stationed on our own coast, where we'd have a two-to-one advantage over any force that had to sail three or four thousand miles to attack us, and the same distance back to refit and resupply. And while Britain's fleet could disrupt our trade with Europe, we could just as easily disrupt her trade with the West Indies — which, being right in our neighborhood, is completely at our mercy.
There are also smart ways to maintain a naval force during peacetime, even if we don't want the expense of a permanent navy. We could offer incentives to merchants to build and operate armed commercial ships — outfitted with twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty guns — with the incentive proportional to the cargo space they'd lose. Fifty or sixty of these armed merchantmen, plus a few dedicated guard ships on permanent duty, would be enough. And this approach would spare us the problem Britain constantly complains about: a peacetime fleet rotting in the dockyards. When defense and commerce work hand in hand — when our strength and our wealth support each other — we have nothing to fear from any foreign enemy.
In almost every ingredient of defense, we have abundance. Hemp grows wild, so we'll never lack for rope. Our iron is better than other countries'. Our small arms are as good as any in the world. Cannons we can cast whenever we want. Saltpeter and gunpowder we're producing daily. Our knowledge is growing by the hour. Determination is in our nature, and courage has never abandoned us. So what exactly are we waiting for? Why are we hesitating? From Britain we can expect nothing but ruin. If she's allowed to govern America again, this continent won't be worth living on. Jealousy and suspicion will be constant. Uprisings will keep happening — and who will go put them down? Who would risk their life to force their own countrymen back under foreign rule? The boundary dispute between Pennsylvania and Connecticut over some unsettled land already shows how useless British government is at handling our problems. Nothing but continental authority can manage continental affairs.
Here's another reason why right now is better than any future moment: the fewer people we have, the more unsettled land there is. That land, instead of being handed out by the king to his worthless favorites, could be used not just to pay off any debts we take on, but to fund the government permanently. No nation on earth has an advantage like this.
The fact that the colonies are young — the so-called "infant state" — is actually an argument for independence, not against it. We have enough people, and if we had more, we might be less united. It's worth noting that the more populated a country becomes, the smaller its armies tend to be. In ancient times, armies dwarfed modern ones, and the reason is obvious: as trade grows, people get too absorbed in business to think about anything else. Commerce weakens both the spirit of patriotism and the willingness to fight. History shows us again and again that the greatest feats of courage happen when a nation is young. As England's trade has grown, its fighting spirit has faded. The city of London, despite its enormous population, endures insult after insult with the patience of a coward. The more people have to lose, the less willing they are to take risks. The wealthy are, as a rule, slaves to fear — they submit to those in power with the trembling obedience of a lapdog.
Youth is the time for building good habits, in nations just as in individuals. It might be difficult — if not impossible — to unite the entire continent under one government fifty years from now. The explosion of different interests that comes with more trade and more people would create chaos. Colony would be pitted against colony. Each one, strong enough to stand alone, would scorn the help of the others. And while the proud and the foolish squabbled over their petty differences, the wise would grieve that the union hadn't been formed sooner. The present moment is the right moment to do it. The bonds formed in youth and the friendships made in hard times are the strongest and most enduring of all. Our current union is marked by both: we are young, and we have been through hardship. Yet our unity has survived those troubles, setting a powerful example for future generations to be proud of.
Right now is also that unique, once-in-a-nation's-lifetime moment: the moment of forming a government. Most nations have missed this window and ended up receiving their laws from conquerors instead of writing them for themselves. First came the king, and then came the government. But it should be the other way around: create the rules of government first, then choose the people to carry them out. Let's learn from the mistakes of other nations and seize the opportunity we have right now — to build the government from the right end.
When William the Conqueror invaded England, he gave them laws at the point of a sword. Until we make sure that the seat of government in America is filled legally and legitimately, we run the risk of some ambitious strongman seizing power and treating us the same way. And then where will our freedom be? Where will our property be?
On the subject of religion, I believe it is the absolute duty of government to protect every person's right to worship according to their conscience — and I know of no other business that government has with religion. Let people drop their narrow-mindedness, their selfish prejudices that small-souled believers of every faith cling to so stubbornly, and they'll find their fears on this subject disappear entirely. Suspicion is the companion of petty minds and the enemy of healthy society. Personally, I fully and sincerely believe that it is God's will that there be a diversity of religious beliefs among us. It gives us a broader opportunity to practice Christian kindness toward one another. If we all thought exactly alike, our faith would have nothing to test it. On this generous principle, I see the various denominations among us as children of the same family, differing only in what you might call their first names.
Earlier, I offered a few thoughts on the idea of a Continental Charter. (I'm only suggesting ideas here, not fully developed plans.) Let me bring up the subject again by pointing out that a charter should be understood as a solemn agreement in which the whole nation commits to protecting the rights of every individual and group — whether those rights involve religion, personal freedom, or property. A fair deal and an honest accounting make lasting friends.
I also mentioned earlier the need for large and equal representation, and there is no political issue that deserves more of our attention. Too few voters or too few representatives — both are dangerous. And if the number of representatives is not only small but also unfairly distributed, the danger is even worse. Case in point: when the Associators' petition came before the Pennsylvania Assembly, only twenty-eight members were present. All eight members from Bucks County voted against it. If just seven of the Chester County members had done the same, this entire province would have been governed by just two counties. That's the kind of risk we face all the time. And the overreach that same Assembly committed in its last session — trying to seize unauthorized power over the province's delegates — should be a warning to everyone about the danger of trusting power to the wrong people. They threw together a set of instructions for the delegates that, in terms of logic and substance, would have embarrassed a schoolboy. These instructions were approved by a tiny handful of people outside the Assembly, then brought inside and passed on behalf of the entire colony. If the people of this colony knew just how reluctantly that Assembly has approached every necessary public measure, they wouldn't hesitate for a second to declare it unfit for their trust.
When a crisis hits, it forces us to do things quickly that, if continued permanently, would turn into oppression. What's convenient in an emergency is not the same as what's right in the long run. When America's troubles called for collective action, there was no faster or more practical method than appointing representatives from the various colonial assemblies — and the wisdom they've shown has saved this continent from disaster. But since we'll clearly need a Congress from now on, anyone who cares about good government has to admit that the way we choose its members needs serious thought. And I'll pose this question to anyone who studies human nature: isn't it too much power for one group of people to have control over both who represents the nation and what decisions that representation makes? When we're planning for the future, we should remember that virtue is not hereditary.
We often learn the best lessons from our enemies, caught off guard by the truth they accidentally reveal. Mr. Cornwall, a Lord of the Treasury, dismissed the New York Assembly's petition with contempt because, he said, the Assembly had only twenty-six members — too small a number to speak for an entire colony. We thank him for his unintentional honesty.
[Those who want to fully understand how crucial large and equal representation is should read Burgh's Political Disquisitions.]
To conclude: however strange it may seem to some, and however reluctant they may be to accept it, there are many strong and compelling reasons to show that nothing will resolve our situation as quickly as an open and firm declaration of independence. Among them:
First — It is the custom among nations that when two are at war, other uninvolved powers step in as mediators to negotiate peace. But as long as America calls herself a subject of Great Britain, no nation, however sympathetic, can offer to mediate. In our current state, we could go on fighting forever.
Second — It's unreasonable to expect France or Spain to help us if we're only planning to use their help to repair the relationship between Britain and America. Those nations would end up worse off as a result.
Third — As long as we call ourselves British subjects, the rest of the world will see us as rebels. The idea of armed men claiming to still be loyal subjects is a dangerous precedent for other countries. We, on the ground, can explain the contradiction — but asking foreign nations to wrap their heads around the concept of being both in revolt and under the authority of the same government is a stretch too far for ordinary understanding.
Fourth — Imagine we published a statement to the world's governments, laying out the suffering we've endured and the peaceful methods we tried before resorting to conflict. Imagine we declared that, unable to live happily or safely under the cruelty of the British Crown, we had been forced to cut all ties — while assuring every nation of our peaceful intentions and our desire to trade with them. A document like that would do more good for this continent than a ship full of petitions sent to Britain.
Under our current status as British subjects, we can't be properly received or heard by any foreign government. The diplomatic traditions of every court in the world work against us, and they will continue to work against us until we declare our independence and take our place among the nations.
These steps may seem strange and difficult at first. But like every other step we've already taken, they'll soon feel natural and normal. Until independence is declared, the continent will feel like a person who keeps putting off something unpleasant, day after day — knowing it has to be done, dreading the start of it, wishing it were already over, and haunted constantly by the knowledge that it can't be avoided any longer.
Since the first edition of this pamphlet was published — or rather, on the very same day it came out — the King's Speech arrived in this city. If the spirit of prophecy had directed the timing of this publication, it could not have picked a better moment. The bloodthirstiness of the one proved the necessity of the other. People read it as an act of revenge. And the Speech, instead of terrifying anyone, actually cleared the path for the bold principles of independence.
Polite silence, whatever its motive, does real damage when it gives even the slightest respectability to evil actions. If we accept that principle, it follows naturally that the King's Speech — a masterpiece of villainy — deserved and still deserves a universal condemnation from both Congress and the people. And yet, because the domestic peace of a nation depends heavily on the purity of what we might call its public standards, it is often better to pass over some things in silent contempt than to introduce new forms of protest that might threaten the very stability we rely on. Perhaps it is mainly due to this careful restraint that the King's Speech has not already been publicly burned.
The Speech — if you can even call it one — is nothing more than a deliberate, brazen lie against truth, the common good, and the very existence of humankind. It is a formal and pompous way of offering up human sacrifices to the pride of tyrants. But this wholesale slaughter of humanity is one of the privileges and the inevitable consequence of kings. Nature does not recognize them, so they do not recognize nature. Though they are creatures of our own making, they do not know us, and they have become gods to their own creators. The Speech does have one good quality: it is not designed to deceive, and we could not be deceived by it even if we wanted to be. Brutality and tyranny are written all over its face. It leaves us with no doubts. And every line convinces us, even as we read it, that the hunter who lives off the land in the wilderness has more humanity in him than the King of Britain.
Sir John Dalrymple, the presumed author of a sniveling, slippery piece falsely titled "The Address of the People of England to the Inhabitants of America," has perhaps — out of a foolish assumption that people here would be impressed by the pomp and grandeur of a king — revealed (very unwisely on his part) the true character of the current one. "But," this writer says, "if you are willing to pay compliments to an administration we did not object to" (meaning the Marquis of Rockingham's government at the time of the Stamp Act's repeal), "it is very unfair of you to withhold them from the prince by whose nod alone that administration was permitted to do anything." This is Tory doctrine in its purest form! This is open idolatry without even a mask. And anyone who can calmly hear and swallow such a doctrine has forfeited any claim to rational thought — an apostate from the order of manhood who has not only given up the proper dignity of a human being but sunk himself beneath the rank of animals, and who crawls contemptibly through the world like a worm.
However, it matters very little now what the King of England says or does. He has wickedly broken every moral and human obligation, trampled nature and conscience beneath his feet, and through a steady, calculated spirit of arrogance and cruelty, earned himself a universal hatred. It is now in America's interest to provide for herself. She already has a large and young family, and it is more her duty to care for them than to give away her wealth propping up a power that has become a disgrace to the names of both humanity and Christianity. You whose job it is to safeguard the morals of a nation — whatever your sect or denomination — as well as you who more directly guard the public liberty: if you wish to keep your native country free from European corruption, you must, in your hearts, wish for a separation. But leaving the moral question to private reflection, I will mainly confine my remaining remarks to the following points:
First. That it is in America's interest to be separated from Britain.
Second. Which plan is easier and more practical — reconciliation or independence? — with some related observations.
In support of the first point, I could, if I thought it appropriate, produce the opinions of some of the most capable and experienced men on this continent, men whose views on this subject are not yet publicly known. It is, in reality, a self-evident position: no nation that exists in a state of foreign dependence, with its trade restricted and its legislative powers chained and shackled, can ever achieve any real greatness. America does not yet know what true prosperity looks like. And although the progress she has made is unmatched in the history of other nations, it is still only childhood compared with what she could achieve if she had — as she should — the legislative powers in her own hands. England is, at this moment, greedily chasing something that would do her no good even if she got it, while the continent hesitates on a matter that will be its ultimate ruin if neglected. It is the trade of America, not its conquest, that benefits England — and that trade would largely continue even if the countries were as independent of each other as France and Spain, because in many goods, neither country can find a better market. But it is the independence of this country from Britain, or any other power, that is now the main and only goal worth fighting for — and which, like all truths discovered by necessity, will become clearer and stronger with every passing day.
First. Because it will happen one way or another, sooner or later.
Second. Because the longer it is delayed, the harder it will be to accomplish.
I have often amused myself, both in public and private conversations, by quietly noting the plausible but false arguments of people who talk without thinking. Among the many I have heard, the most common goes something like this: if this conflict had happened forty or fifty years from now instead of today, the continent would have been better able to shake off its dependence. To which I reply: our current military ability comes from the experience gained in the last war, and in forty or fifty years that experience would have been completely gone. The continent would not, by that time, have had a single general or even a military officer left. We — or those who come after us — would have been as ignorant of military matters as people who have never seen a war. And this single point, if you follow it closely, proves beyond any argument that the present time is better than any other. Here is the logic: at the end of the last war, we had experience but lacked numbers. Forty or fifty years from now, we would have numbers but no experience. Therefore, the ideal moment must fall somewhere between these two extremes — a point where enough of the former remains and enough of the latter has developed. That point in time is right now.
The reader will forgive this side note, since it does not strictly belong under the topic I started with, and to which I now return with the following point:
If affairs were patched up with Britain and she remained the governing and sovereign power over America — which, given how things stand now, means giving up the fight entirely — we would deprive ourselves of the very means of paying off the debt we already have or may take on. The western lands, which some of the colonies are being secretly robbed of through the unjust expansion of Canada's borders, valued at only five pounds sterling per hundred acres, add up to more than twenty-five million in Pennsylvania currency. And the land rents, at one penny sterling per acre, come to two million yearly.
It is through the sale of those lands that the debt can be paid off without burdening anyone, and the rent reserved on them will always reduce, and eventually fully cover, the yearly cost of government. It does not matter how long the debt takes to pay off, so long as the land proceeds are applied to clearing it — and for carrying this out, whatever Congress is in power at the time will serve as the continental trustees.
I now move to the second point: which plan is easier and more practical — reconciliation or independence? — with some related observations.
Anyone who takes nature as his guide is not easily knocked off his argument. And on that ground, I answer in general terms: independence is a single, simple, straight line, contained entirely within ourselves. Reconciliation is an enormously complicated mess in which a treacherous, unpredictable court gets to interfere. The answer is obvious.
The present state of America is truly alarming to anyone capable of clear thinking. We have no law. No government. No power other than what is based on and granted by mutual courtesy. We are held together by an extraordinary agreement of shared feeling that is, nonetheless, subject to change — and that every secret enemy is working to dissolve. Our current condition is legislation without law, wisdom without a plan, a constitution without a name, and — most astonishingly of all — complete independence fighting to remain dependent. This situation is without precedent. It has never existed before. And who can say how it will end? No person's property is secure in this unstructured state of affairs. The public mind is left to drift, and with no fixed goal in sight, people chase whatever idea or opinion catches their fancy. Nothing is criminal. There is no such thing as treason. So everyone thinks he is free to act however he pleases. The Tories — those loyal to the Crown — would never have dared to organize offensively if they had known that their lives were forfeit under the law. A clear distinction should be drawn between English soldiers captured in battle and American inhabitants caught fighting for the British. The first are prisoners. The second are traitors. One forfeits his liberty. The other forfeits his head.
Despite all our wisdom, there is a visible weakness in some of our decisions that gives encouragement to division. The Continental Belt is too loosely buckled. And if something is not done in time, it will be too late to do anything at all — and we will fall into a state where neither reconciliation nor independence is possible. The King and his worthless supporters are back to their old game of dividing the continent, and there are printers among us who will eagerly spread convincing lies. The crafty and hypocritical letter that appeared a few months ago in two New York papers, and in two others as well, is proof that there are men among us who lack either judgment or honesty.
It is easy to hide in holes and corners and talk about reconciliation. But do those men seriously consider how difficult the task is, and how dangerous it could prove if the continent splits over it? Do they take into account all the different kinds of people whose situations and circumstances — not just their own — must be considered? Do they put themselves in the place of the person who has already lost everything, or the soldier who has given up all he had to defend his country? If their misguided moderation is suited only to their own private situations, with no regard for anyone else, events will prove that "they are reckoning without their host."
"Put us back where we were in 1763," some people say. My answer: that request is no longer in Britain's power to grant, and she will not propose it. But even if it were granted, I ask a reasonable question: by what means would such a corrupt and faithless court be held to its promises? Another Parliament — even the current one — could later repeal the agreement, claiming it was forced or unwisely granted. And then where is our remedy? You cannot take nations to court. Cannons are the lawyers of Crowns, and the sword — not of justice, but of war — decides the case. To be put back to where we were in 1763, it is not enough for the laws alone to be restored; our circumstances must also be restored. Our burned and destroyed towns must be repaired or rebuilt. Our private losses must be made good. Our public debts, taken on in our defense, must be discharged. Otherwise, we will be millions worse off than we were in that enviable time. Such an offer, had it been made a year ago, would have won the heart and soul of the continent. But now it is too late. The Rubicon has been crossed.
Besides, taking up arms merely to force the repeal of a tax law seems as unjustifiable by divine law, and as offensive to human feeling, as taking up arms to enforce obedience to one. The object on either side does not justify the means, because human lives are too valuable to throw away on such trifles. It is the violence done and threatened to our persons, the destruction of our property by armed force, the invasion of our country by fire and sword, that morally justifies the use of arms. And the instant such self-defense became necessary, all submission to Britain should have ceased. The independence of America should be considered as dating from — and declared by — the first shot fired against her. This is a line of consistency, not drawn by whim or extended by ambition, but produced by a chain of events that the colonies did not set in motion.
I will close these remarks with the following timely and well-meaning observations. We should reflect that there are three different ways independence might eventually be achieved, and one of these three will, someday, be the fate of America: by the lawful voice of the people in Congress, by military power, or by a mob. It may not always be the case that our soldiers are also citizens, or that the masses are a body of reasonable people. Virtue, as I have already noted, is not inherited, and it does not last forever. If independence is brought about by the first of those means, we have every opportunity and every encouragement before us to create the noblest, purest constitution on the face of the earth. We have it in our power to begin the world over again. A moment like this has not existed since the days of Noah. The birthday of a new world is at hand, and a race of people perhaps as numerous as all of Europe will receive their share of freedom from the events of a few months. The thought is staggering — and from this vantage point, how petty, how ridiculous do the small, pathetic objections of a few weak or self-interested men appear when weighed against the business of a world.
If we neglect this favorable and inviting moment, and independence is later brought about by some other means, we must blame the consequences on ourselves — or rather, on those whose narrow and prejudiced minds are habitually opposing the effort without either asking questions or thinking it through. There are reasons in support of independence that men should think about privately rather than be told about publicly. We should not still be debating whether to be independent, but instead working urgently to accomplish it on a firm, secure, and honorable basis — and worrying that it has not already begun. Every day makes its necessity more obvious. Even the Tories — if any still remain among us — should, of all people, be the most eager to support it. Just as the formation of committees initially protected them from popular rage, a wise and well-established government will be the only reliable way to continue that protection. Therefore, if they do not have enough courage to be Whigs, they ought to have enough sense to wish for independence.
In short, independence is the only bond that can tie us together and hold us fast. Then we will see our goal clearly, and the law will shut our ears against the schemes of an enemy that is as cunning as it is cruel. Then, too, we will be on proper footing to negotiate with Britain — because there is reason to believe that the pride of that court will be less offended by negotiating with the American states for terms of peace than with those it calls "rebellious subjects" for terms of accommodation. It is our delay that encourages Britain to hope for conquest, and our hesitation only prolongs the war. Since we have already withheld our trade, without any good result, in an attempt to get our grievances addressed, let us now try the alternative: independently address them ourselves, and then offer to reopen trade. The merchants and reasonable people in England will still be with us, because peace with trade is better than war without it. And if this offer is not accepted, other nations can be approached.
On these grounds I rest my case. And since no one has yet attempted to refute the arguments laid out in earlier editions of this pamphlet, that silence is itself proof that either the arguments cannot be refuted, or that the people who agree with them are too numerous to oppose. Therefore, instead of staring at each other with suspicion and doubt, let each of us extend a warm hand of friendship to our neighbor and unite in drawing a line that, like an act of forgiveness, buries every past disagreement. Let the names of Whig and Tory go extinct. And let no other names be heard among us than those of a good citizen, an open and determined friend, and a faithful defender of the rights of humankind and of the FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES OF AMERICA.
To the Representatives of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), or As Many of Them as Were Involved in Publishing the Recent Piece Entitled "The Ancient Testimony and Principles of the People Called Quakers Renewed, with Respect to the King and Government, and Touching the Commotions Now Prevailing in These and Other Parts of America, Addressed to the People in General."
The writer of this is one of those rare people who never disrespects religion — neither by mocking it nor by picking fights with any denomination whatsoever. Every person is accountable to God, not to other people, when it comes to religion. Therefore, this letter is not really addressed to you as a religious group but as a political body, meddling in matters that the stated quietness of your own principles tells you to stay out of.
Since you have, without proper authority, appointed yourselves to speak for the entire body of the Quakers, I, the writer of this, must — in order to stand on equal ground with you — put myself in the place of everyone who supports the very writings and principles your testimony attacks. And I have chosen this presumptuous position so that you might recognize in me the same arrogance you cannot see in yourselves. For neither he nor you has any legitimate claim to political representation.
When people have wandered off the right path, it is no surprise that they stumble and fall. And it is clear from the way you have handled your testimony that politics — for a religious group of people — is not your area of expertise. However well suited to the task you may think you are, your testimony is a jumble of good and bad ideas put carelessly together, and the conclusion drawn from it is both unnatural and unfair.
The first two pages — and the whole thing barely fills four — we give you credit for, and we expect the same courtesy in return, because the love and desire for peace is not exclusive to Quakerism. It is the natural as well as the religious wish of all people, regardless of denomination. And on this ground, as people working to establish an independent constitution of our own, we outdo everyone else in our hopes, our goals, and our purpose. Our plan is peace forever. We are tired of fighting with Britain and can see no real end to it except in a final separation. We act consistently, because it is for the sake of bringing about an endless and uninterrupted peace that we bear the hardships and burdens of the present day. We are working — and will steadfastly continue to work — to sever a connection that has already drenched our land in blood, and which, while it continues to exist, will be the inevitable cause of future catastrophes for both countries.
We fight for neither revenge nor conquest. Not out of pride, not out of passion. We are not sailing around the world with fleets and armies, plundering the globe. We are being attacked under the shade of our own vines, in our own houses, on our own land. We see our enemies as highway robbers and home invaders, and having no protection from the civil law, we are forced to deal with them by military means — applying the sword in the very case where you, in the past, have applied the noose. Perhaps we feel for the ruined and insulted victims across every part of the continent with a degree of compassion that has not yet found its way into some of your hearts. But make sure you do not mistake the source and basis of your testimony. Do not call coldness of soul "religion." And do not put the bigot in the place of the Christian.
You hypocritical ministers of your own stated principles! If bearing arms is sinful, then the party that starts the war must be more sinful, by the entire difference between deliberate attack and unavoidable self-defense. So if you truly preach from conscience, and do not mean to turn your religion into a political tool, then prove it to the world by preaching your doctrine to our enemies — because they bear arms too. Show us proof of your sincerity by publishing it at the royal court in London, by delivering it to the commanders in chief at Boston, to the admirals and captains who are pirating and ravaging our coasts, and to all the murdering villains acting under the authority of the man you claim to serve. If you had the honest soul of Barclay,* you would preach repentance to your King. You would tell that royal wretch his sins and warn him of eternal ruin. You would not aim your selective outrage only at the injured and the insulted, but, like faithful ministers, would cry out loud and spare no one. Do not say that you are persecuted, and do not try to make us the cause of the shame you are bringing on yourselves. For we say to all people plainly: we do not oppose you because you are Quakers, but because you claim to be Quakers and are not.
*[Barclay's address to Charles II: "You have tasted both prosperity and adversity. You know what it is to be banished from your native country, to be overruled as well as to rule, and to sit upon the throne. And having been oppressed, you have reason to know how hateful the oppressor is to both God and man. If, after all these warnings, you do not turn to the Lord with all your heart, but forget the one who remembered you in your distress, and give yourself over to lust and vanity, surely great will be your condemnation. Against that snare, and against the temptation of those who flatter you and prompt you to evil, the most powerful remedy will be to turn to the light of Christ that shines in your conscience — which neither can nor will flatter you, nor allow you to be comfortable in your sins."]
Unfortunately, it seems from the particular direction of some parts of your testimony, and from other parts of your behavior, as if all sin has been boiled down to the single act of bearing arms — and only by the people at that. You appear to us to have confused political loyalty with conscience, because the overall pattern of your actions is completely inconsistent. And it is extremely hard for us to take many of your so-called scruples seriously, because we see them coming from the same people who, at the very instant they are railing against worldly wealth, are chasing after it with a step as steady as Time and an appetite as sharp as Death.
The quotation you pulled from Proverbs, on the third page of your testimony — "When a man's ways please the Lord, he makes even his enemies to be at peace with him" — is a very unwise choice on your part. Because it amounts to proof that the King's ways (the King you are so eager to support) do not please the Lord. Otherwise, his reign would be a peaceful one.
I now move to the last part of your testimony — the part that everything before it seems to have been leading up to:
"It has ever been our judgment and principle, since we were called to profess the light of Christ Jesus manifested in our consciences, unto this day, that the setting up and putting down of kings and governments is God's exclusive right, for reasons best known to himself; and that it is not our business to have any hand or part in it, nor to be meddlers above our station, much less to plot and scheme the ruin or overthrow of any of them, but to pray for the king and the safety of our nation and the good of all people, that we may live a peaceable and quiet life in all godliness and honesty, under the government which God is pleased to set over us."
If these are truly your principles, why don't you stand by them? Why don't you leave what you call God's work to be managed by God himself? These very principles instruct you to wait with patience and humility for the outcome of all public events, and to accept that outcome as God's will for you. So what is the point of your political testimony if you actually believe what it says? The very act of publishing it proves that either you do not believe what you claim to believe, or you do not have the courage to practice what you preach.
The principles of Quakerism, by their very nature, should make a person a quiet and inoffensive subject of whatever government is placed over him. And if the setting up and putting down of kings and governments is God's exclusive right, he most certainly will not be robbed of it by us. So the principle itself requires you to approve of everything that has ever happened, or may happen, to kings — since it is all his work.
Oliver Cromwell thanks you.
If that is your doctrine, then Charles I did not die by the hands of men. And should the current proud imitator of him meet the same violent end, the writers and publishers of your testimony are bound, by the very doctrine it contains, to applaud the act. Kings are not removed by miracles. Changes in government are not brought about by any means other than ordinary, human ones — the same kind we are using right now. Even the scattering of the Jews, though foretold by Christ, was carried out by armies. Therefore, if you refuse to be involved on one side, you ought not to meddle on the other. You should wait for the outcome in silence. And unless you can produce divine authority to prove that the Almighty — who created this new world and placed it at the greatest possible distance, east and west, from every part of the old one — nevertheless disapproves of its being independent from the corrupt and abandoned court of Britain; unless, I say, you can show this, how can you, on the ground of your own principles, justify stirring up the people "firmly to unite in the abhorrence of all such writings and measures as show a desire and design to break off the happy connection we have hitherto enjoyed with the kingdom of Great Britain, and our just and necessary subordination to the king and those who are lawfully placed in authority under him"?
What a slap in the face! The men who, in the very paragraph before, had quietly and passively handed over the ordering, altering, and disposal of kings and governments into the hands of God are now taking back their principles and demanding a piece of the action. Is it possible that the conclusion just quoted can follow in any way from the doctrine they laid down? The inconsistency is too obvious to miss. The absurdity is too great not to laugh at. And it could only have come from people whose understanding has been darkened by the narrow, bitter spirit of a desperate political faction — for you are not to be considered the whole body of Quakers, but only a small and fractious part of it.
Here ends my examination of your testimony — which I ask no one to denounce, as you have done to ours, but only to read and judge fairly. To this I add one final observation: "the setting up and putting down of kings" most certainly means making a king out of someone who is not one, and removing someone who already is. And what does that have to do with our situation? We do not intend to set anyone up or put anyone down, neither to make nor unmake. We simply want to have nothing to do with them. Therefore, your testimony, in whatever light it is viewed, serves only to embarrass your judgment — and for many reasons, it would have been better left unpublished.
First, because it tends to diminish and disgrace all religion, and it is extremely dangerous to society to make religion a party in political disputes.
Second, because it presents a group of men — many of whom disown the publishing of political testimonies — as being involved in and approving of it.
Third, because it threatens to undo the continental harmony and friendship that you yourselves, through your generous and charitable donations, have helped to build — and preserving that harmony matters enormously to us all.
And here, without anger or resentment, I bid you farewell. I sincerely wish that, as both human beings and Christians, you may always fully and without interruption enjoy every civil and religious right — and may, in your turn, be the means of securing those rights for others. But may the example you have unwisely set, of mixing religion with politics, be rejected and condemned by every inhabitant of America.
THE END.
F I N I S