1780

                              THE AMERICAN CRISIS

                                by Thomas Paine

                                  I.

  THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the
sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of
their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks
of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet
we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the
more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too
lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.
Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be
strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be
highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has
declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but "to BIND us in ALL
CASES WHATSOEVER," and if being bound in that manner, is not
slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even
the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to
God.

  Whether the independence of the continent was declared too soon,
or delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argument; my
own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would
have been much better. We did not make a proper use of last winter,
neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. However, the
fault, if it were one, was all our own*; we have none to blame but
ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet. All that Howe has been doing
for this month past, is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the
spirit of the Jerseys, a year ago, would have quickly repulsed, and
which time and a little resolution will soon recover.

  * The present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed; but, if
lost or neglected, the whole continent will partake of the evil; and
there is no punishment that man does not deserve, be he who, or
what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a
season so precious and useful.

  I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret
opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give
up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to
perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the
calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent.
Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that He has
relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the
care of devils; and as I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king
of Britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common
murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pretence
as he.

  'Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run
through a country. All nations and ages have been subject to them.
Britain has trembled like an ague at the report of a French fleet of
flat-bottomed boats; and in the fourteenth [fifteenth] century the
whole English army, after ravaging the kingdom of France, was driven
back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was
performed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, Joan
of Arc. Would that heaven might inspire some Jersey maid to spirit
up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers from ravage
and ravishment! Yet panics, in some cases, have their uses; they
produce as much good as hurt. Their duration is always short; the mind
soon grows through them, and acquires a firmer habit than before.
But their peculiar advantage is, that they are the touchstones of
sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring things and men to light, which
might otherwise have lain forever undiscovered. In fact, they have the
same effect on secret traitors, which an imaginary apparition would
have upon a private murderer. They sift out the hidden thoughts of
man, and hold them up in public to the world. Many a disguised Tory
has lately shown his head, that shall penitentially solemnize with
curses the day on which Howe arrived upon the Delaware.

  As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched with them to the
edge of Pennsylvania, I am well acquainted with many circumstances,
which those who live at a distance know but little or nothing of.
Our situation there was exceedingly cramped, the place being a
narrow neck of land between the North River and the Hackensack. Our
force was inconsiderable, being not one-fourth so great as Howe
could bring against us. We had no army at hand to have relieved the
garrison, had we shut ourselves up and stood on our defence. Our
ammunition, light artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been
removed, on the apprehension that Howe would endeavor to penetrate the
Jerseys, in which case Fort Lee could be of no use to us; for it
must occur to every thinking man, whether in the army or not, that
these kind of field forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in
use no longer than the enemy directs his force against the
particular object which such forts are raised to defend. Such was
our situation and condition at Fort Lee on the morning of the 20th
of November, when an officer arrived with information that the enemy
with 200 boats had landed about seven miles above; Major General
[Nathaniel] Green, who commanded the garrison, immediately ordered
them under arms, and sent express to General Washington at the town of
Hackensack, distant by the way of the ferry = six miles. Our first
object was to secure the bridge over the Hackensack, which laid up the
river between the enemy and us, about six miles from us, and three
from them. General Washington arrived in about three-quarters of an
hour, and marched at the head of the troops towards the bridge,
which place I expected we should have a brush for; however, they did