It has been the folly of Britain to suppose herself more powerful
than she really is, and by that means has arrogated to herself a
rank in the world she is not entitled to: for more than this century
past she has not been able to carry on a war without foreign
assistance. In Marlborough's campaigns, and from that day to this, the
number of German troops and officers assisting her have been about
equal with her own; ten thousand Hessians were sent to England last
war to protect her from a French invasion; and she would have cut
but a poor figure in her Canadian and West Indian expeditions, had not
America been lavish both of her money and men to help her along. The
only instance in which she was engaged singly, that I can recollect,
was against the rebellion in Scotland, in the years 1745 and 1746, and
in that, out of three battles, she was twice beaten, till by thus
reducing their numbers, (as we shall yours) and taking a supply ship
that was coming to Scotland with clothes, arms and money, (as we
have often done,) she was at last enabled to defeat them. England
was never famous by land; her officers have generally been suspected
of cowardice, have more of the air of a dancing-master than a soldier,
and by the samples which we have taken prisoners, we give the
preference to ourselves. Her strength, of late, has lain in her
extravagance; but as her finances and credit are now low, her sinews
in that line begin to fail fast. As a nation she is the poorest in
Europe; for were the whole kingdom, and all that is in it, to be put
up for sale like the estate of a bankrupt, it would not fetch as
much as she owes; yet this thoughtless wretch must go to war, and with
the avowed design, too, of making us beasts of burden, to support
her in riot and debauchery, and to assist her afterwards in
distressing those nations who are now our best friends. This
ingratitude may suit a Tory, or the unchristian peevishness of a
fallen Quaker, but none else.

  'Tis the unhappy temper of the English to be pleased with any war,
right or wrong, be it but successful; but they soon grow
discontented with ill fortune, and it is an even chance that they
are as clamorous for peace next summer, as the king and his
ministers were for war last winter. In this natural view of things,
your lordship stands in a very critical situation: your whole
character is now staked upon your laurels; if they wither, you
wither with them; if they flourish, you cannot live long to look at
them; and at any rate, the black account hereafter is not far off.
What lately appeared to us misfortunes, were only blessings in
disguise; and the seeming advantages on your side have turned out to
our profit. Even our loss of this city, as far as we can see, might be
a principal gain to us: the more surface you spread over, the
thinner you will be, and the easier wiped away; and our consolation
under that apparent disaster would be, that the estates of the
Tories would become securities for the repairs. In short, there is
no old ground we can fail upon, but some new foundation rises again to
support us. "We have put, sir, our hands to the plough, and cursed
be he that looketh back."

  Your king, in his speech to parliament last spring, declared,
"That he had no doubt but the great force they had enabled him to send
to America, would effectually reduce the rebellious colonies." It
has not, neither can it; but it has done just enough to lay the
foundation of its own next year's ruin. You are sensible that you left
England in a divided, distracted state of politics, and, by the
command you had here, you became a principal prop in the court
party; their fortunes rest on yours; by a single express you can fix
their value with the public, and the degree to which their spirits
shall rise or fall; they are in your hands as stock, and you have
the secret of the alley with you. Thus situated and connected, you
become the unintentional mechanical instrument of your own and their
overthrow. The king and his ministers put conquest out of doubt, and
the credit of both depended on the proof. To support them in the
interim, it was necessary that you should make the most of every
thing, and we can tell by Hugh Gaine's New York paper what the
complexion of the London Gazette is. With such a list of victories the
nation cannot expect you will ask new supplies; and to confess your
want of them would give the lie to your triumphs, and impeach the king
and his ministers of treasonable deception. If you make the
necessary demand at home, your party sinks; if you make it not, you
sink yourself; to ask it now is too late, and to ask it before was too
soon, and unless it arrive quickly will be of no use. In short, the
part you have to act, cannot be acted; and I am fully persuaded that
all you have to trust to is, to do the best you can with what force
you have got, or little more. Though we have greatly exceeded you in
point of generalship and bravery of men, yet, as a people, we have not
entered into the full soul of enterprise; for I, who know England
and the disposition of the people well, am confident, that it is
easier for us to effect a revolution there, than you a conquest
here; a few thousand men landed in England with the declared design of
deposing the present king, bringing his ministers to trial, and
setting up the Duke of Gloucester in his stead, would assuredly
carry their point, while you are grovelling here, ignorant of the
matter. As I send all my papers to England, this, like Common Sense,
will find its way there; and though it may put one party on their
guard, it will inform the other, and the nation in general, of our
design to help them.

  Thus far, sir, I have endeavored to give you a picture of present
affairs: you may draw from it what conclusions you please. I wish as
well to the true prosperity of England as you can, but I consider
INDEPENDENCE as America's natural right and interest, and never
could see any real disservice it would be to Britain. If an English
merchant receives an order, and is paid for it, it signifies nothing
to him who governs the country. This is my creed of politics. If I
have any where expressed myself over-warmly, 'tis from a fixed,
immovable hatred I have, and ever had, to cruel men and cruel