Front Page Titles (by Subject) VOLUME THREE OF THE 1805 ED. - History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution vol. 2
Return to Title Page for History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution vol. 2
The Online Library of Liberty
A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.
Search this Title:
VOLUME THREE OF THE 1805 ED. - Mercy Otis Warren, History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution vol. 2 
History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution interspersed with Biographical, Political and Moral Observations, in Two Volumes, Foreword by Lester H. Cohen (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund 1994).
About Liberty Fund:
Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.
The copyright to this edition, in both print and electronic forms, is held by Liberty Fund, Inc.
Fair use statement:
This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.
C H A P T E R X X I
A short View of the Forces of the contending Parties • The Generals Washington and Rochambeau meet at Weathersfield • Attack on New York contemplated—The Design relinquished • Combined Armies march toward Virginia • Count de Grasse arrives in the Chesapeake • Sir Samuel Hood arrives at New York—Sails to the Chesapeake • Naval Action • Lord Cornwallis attempts a Retreat—Disappointed—Offers Terms of Capitulation • Terms of Surrender agreed on • Lord Digby and Sir Henry Clinton arrive too late • Comparative View of the British Commanders • General Exchange of Prisoners
chap. xxi The additional weight of maritime force that appeared in the American seas in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one,1781 was  serious and eventful. In the view of every sagacious eye, this appearance portended events of magnitude, that might hasten to a decision, the long disputed point between Great Britain and the United States. The European nations considered the present period a crisis of expectation, and that the exertions of this year would either extinguish American hopes, or establish their claims as an independent nation.
Before the arrival of admiral Barras, the naval power of Britain in the American waters was much superior to any thing that had yet arrived from abroad, that could give assistance to the United States. The acquisition of strength, by the arrival of a squadron under the command of sir Samuel Hood, might have given an irresistible preponderance to the British flag, had not the count de Grasse fortunately reached the Chesapeake a few days before him.
There was now just reason to expect the most violent naval concussions would take place, between the Bourbon fleets and the still more powerful squadrons of Britain. They were soon to meet near the American shores, where they were destined to dispute the decision of an object, that, from the emulation of power, the long existing jealousies between two potent sovereigns, and the prospect of a new face of affairs from the resistance of America, equally interested the kings of England and France.
 On the part of Britain, their armies were bold, their troops well appointed, and the pride of conquest urged to prompt execution to insure success. The Americans, inured to fatigue, became disciplined from necessity: naturally sanguine and brave, conscious of the justice of their cause, and persuaded of the favor of Heaven, they were ready to engage in defence of their country and their lives, which they were sure would be the certain forfeit if defeated. Both, determined and valorous, and perhaps both equally weary of the contest, they might equally wish for some capital stroke of military prowess, some honorable action, which might lead to equitable and amicable decision.
In this attitude of expectation, hope, and uncertainty, of the two original parties, now combined with the strangers and aliens of different nations, who had adopted the ardor of conquest equal to their employers, nothing less could be anticipated than new scenes of carnage. The auxiliaries on the part of Britain, were the feudal vassals of despotic lords, the mere automatons of German princes, who held them as their hereditary property. The allies of America were Frenchmen, who had long felt the weight of the chains of Le Grand Monarque: they were commanded by polite and erudite officers, who just beheld the dawn of freedom rising on their native land.
 Thus the two armies finally met in the Virginian fields, the germ of the new world, the first British plantation in America; a state dignified for its uniform adherence to, and its early and firm defence of, the natural rights of mankind. Here they were to decide the last stake for the freedom of nations, a game which had been beheld with interest and expectation, by many of the officers before they left Europe, and which might eventually have an extensive influence, to enlighten and free the more enthralled parts of the world.
Previous to the junction of the French and the American armies, general Washington, the count de Rochambeau, and several other distinguished officers, had met and held a conference at Weathersfield, in Connecticut. In consequence of this interview, it was reported and believed for a time, that the combined armies would immediately attempt the reduction of New York. This was a favorite object with the Americans, who generally viewed the dislodgement of the British forces from that stand, as a measure that would expedite relief to every other quarter invested or oppressed by their fleets and armies. Accordingly, great preparations were made, and high expectations indulged through most of the summer, that the army under the immediate command of sir  Henry Clinton, weakened by detachments for the southern service, and no reinforcements yet arriving from England, would soon be driven from the important post of New York.
General Washington had neglected no argument to impress the necessity of immediate and vigorous exertions in all the states, to enable him to act with decision. He urged the expectation of the allied army, commanded by officers of the first abilities, of the highest military character, some of them of the prime nobility of France, and all ambitious of glory and eager for action. The disappointment they would feel if any languor appeared in the United States, was obvious; and every consideration was urged and enforced, that might induce the whole body of the people to aid in facilitating the measures adopted by the military commanders, which could not be executed without union and prompt decision in all the legislatures.
Preparations were accordingly made, and on the sixth of July, the junction of the French and American armies took place at White Plains. They soon after took a nearer position, with every preparation for, and all the appearance of, a formidable attack on the city. But notwithstanding the sanguine hopes of the Americans on this occasion, and the well founded apprehensions  of the British commander in chief, a combination of circumstances prevented an enterprise, which both the army and the people thought was not only designed, but had calculated that it would be effected without much difficulty.
Nor was this less expected by sir Henry Clinton, who had no idea that any system had been formed for the combined armies to move toward Virginia. He had taken every measure to obtain the most correct information: in this he succeeded: the letters of general Washington were intercepted. His dispatches taken by the agents employed for the purpose, were conveyed to New York, by which the British commander obtained intelligence which alarmed his apprehensions for the safety of New York, and led him to forget all danger in any other quarter.
While the mind of the British commander remained in this situation, a sudden reverse took place on the part of America: their measures were disconcerted, their operations slow; and for a time they appeared as indecisive in their determinations, though not so divided in their councils, as the commanders of the British troops. The energies of a few leading characters were not sufficient to control the  many in the several states, who in their present disconnected police must all be consulted.
In spite of the exertions and the zeal of individuals, the requisitions from the respective states came in for some time but slowly. Many of those which were sent on to complete the battalions, were very far from being strong, effective men. Some companies appeared to be a rabble of boys; others, very unfit for immediate service; and the numbers far short of the calculations in the British camp, where imagination had multiplied them almost to a Russian army.
In short, it was found that it was impossible to establish an army at a call, fit for duty at the moment of their entrance in the field. Nor was it less difficult, in the existing circumstances of the infant republic, to provide at once for the exigencies which the magnitude of military enterprise at this time required. The design, if it ever was really intended, of assaulting that post and reducing New York, was a second time relinquished. The apprehensions of sir Henry Clinton, that a similar enterprise would have been attempted the preceding winter, had not continued long, before other objects intervened, which opened new views to both the British and American commanders.
 A different system was adopted from that expected by both sides, on the opening of the summer campaign. This might probably have been owing in part to the information recently given by colonel Laurens, who had lately arrived from France. He had immediately repaired to the southward, and reached the headquarters of the combined army in the month of August. The most interesting part of this intelligence was, that an alliance had been renewed between the emperor of Germany and the king of Great Britain; that the emperor had sent out a considerable reinforcement to the aid of the British commanders in America, and that additional troops were to follow; that this had greatly encouraged the court of Britain, and was not a pleasing circumstance to France.
It yet remains doubtful, whether it was a stroke of generalship, or the necessity of taking new ground, that induced the count de Rochambeau and general Washington, secretly to draw off most of the continental and French troops, at a period when they momently expected orders for an attack on the city of New York. It is success oftener than judgment, that crowns the military character: and as fortune followed their footsteps, few, if any, doubted the superiority of genius that dictated the measure. The movement was sudden, and the march rapid. The combined army crossed the North River on the twenty-fourth of August:  they moved on hastily to Philadelphia; and by a difficult and fatiguing route, reached Williamsburg in Virginia on the fourteenth of September.
Sir Henry Clinton, apprehensive only for New York, had not the smallest suspicion of this manoeuvre. By the address of a few Americans left behind for that purpose, every appearance of an attack on New York was for a time kept up. The deception was so complete, and the manoeuvres of the American commander so judicious, that the British themselves acknowledged, their own was fairly outgeneralled. The illusion was so well calculated for the purpose, that its effects were fully adequate to the design: the British commander continued his diligence in preparing for the reception of the combined armies.
The intelligence, at this time, of an alliance between his Britannic majesty and the emperor of Germany, and the arrival of two or three thousand German troops, gave an exhilaration of spirits to the city, to the soldiers, and to the general, who, from the protraction of the illusion without, had the highest reason to expect, the assault of their works would not much longer be delayed by the Americans. Though general Clinton had received intelligence that  the French squadron had left Rhode Island, he did not yet dream that they were destined to the Chesapeake, or that Washington and Rochambeau had adopted a new system. It was long before he could be persuaded to believe, that they were concentrating their forces, and moving southward, with design effectually to defeat all farther attempts on Virginia, and stop the progress of the British arms in the Carolinas.
It was indeed too long for the interest of the crown of Great Britain, before sir Henry Clinton could prevail with himself to look beyond the defence of New York. But when he found the allied armies had in reality marched toward Virginia, he did not neglect his duty. He countermanded the orders to lord Cornwallis, of sending a part of his troops to New York, and made all possible preparations to support him. He sent on a fresh detachment of troops, and made arrangements to follow them himself, with a hope of being timely enough for the relief of his lordship.
In the mean time, the fortunate arrival of the count de Grasse in the Chesapeake, hastened the decision of important events. A short passage from the West Indies transported the French fleet under his command safely to the Capes of Virginia, where they arrived on the thirtieth of August. No intelligence of his near approach  had reached the British quarters; nor could any thing have been more unexpected to the British naval commander, sir Samuel Hood, who arrived soon after in the Chesapeake, than to find a Gallic squadron of twenty-eight sail lying there in perfect security.
Commodore Hood, who arrived from the West Indies soon after the middle of August, with near twenty sail of the line, joined the squadron under admiral Graves before New York. He was solicitous to have sailed immediately to the Chesapeake, with all the naval strength that was not necessary to be left for the defence of New York. But an unaccountable delay took place, which in his opinion could not be justified; and however it counteracted his inclination, it was too late before he sailed. He did not reach the Chesapeake until the fifth of September, six days after the arrival there of the count de Grasse. The French fleet had not been discovered by the British commander, nor had he gained any intelligence that de Grasse was on the American coast, until the morning of the fifth of September, when the English observed them in full view within Cape Henry.
Nothing could have been more mortifying to a man of the spirit and enterprise of sir Samuel Hood, than to find so respectable a French fleet had arrived in the Chesapeake before him. The  national rivalry, prejudices, and hatred, of the British commanders, and the gallant English seamen, could not be suppressed on such an occasion. These were a strong stimulus to immediate action, which had their full effect. The pride and valor of a renowned British commander could not admit of the smallest delay; and the boldness of English seamen urged all with the utmost alacrity to prepare for an engagement.
The British maritime force that had now arrived, was nearly equal to the French squadron under the count de Grasse. Both fleets immediately moved, and a spirited action ensued: equal gallantry was exhibited, but neither side could boast of victory. The ships on both sides were considerably injured, and one British seventy-four rendered totally unfit for service; to this they set fire themselves. The loss of men was on the usual average of naval action. The English indeed were not beaten, but the French gained a double advantage; for while the count de Grasse remained at a distance, watched by the British navy, he secured the passage of the count de Barras from Rhode Island, and gained to himself the advantage of first blocking up the Chesapeake. The count de Barras brought with him the French troops from Rhode Island, amounting to about three thousand men. These joined the marquis la Fayette, whose numbers had been greatly reduced. This reinforcement  enabled him to support himself by defensive operations, until, in a short time, they were all happily united under the command of the valiant Rochambeau.
The British fleet continued a few days in the Chesapeake. Their ships were much injured; and in a council of war it was determined to be necessary for the whole fleet to return to New York, to refit and prepare for a second expedition. This they had reason to flatter themselves would be more successful, as they were sure of a great acquisition of strength on the arrival of lord Digby, who was hourly expected with a reinforcement from England.
While sir Henry Clinton remained in suspense with regard to the operations in the Chesapeake, his anxiety prompted him to endeavour to obtain immediate intelligence. He had no suspicion that he should receive this by the return of admiral Graves, and the respectable squadron under his command; and before the untoward circumstances which occasioned this had reached New York, his impatience had urged him to send on a gallant officer with letters to lord Cornwallis. Major Cochran executed this business at no small hazard. The British fleet had left the Capes of Virginia before his arrival; but at every risk, he ran through the whole French fleet in an open boat. He landed safely, delivered his dispatches, and  immediately had his head shot off by a cannonball. Thus this unfortunate officer had not a moment to rejoice in the success of his bravery.
After the return of the fleet of New York, it might reasonably have been expected, that sir Henry Clinton would have acted with more decision and energy. Previous to this unfortunate transaction, it had been determined in a council of war, to send five thousand men to the aid of lord Cornwallis. But the spirit of delay still pervaded the mind of the British commander: he thought proper yet further to postpone this wise measure, from a motive which he doubtless considered justifiable. This was, to wait a little longer for the arrival of admiral Digby; whose junction with the forces already in New York, he judged would insure victory over the combination of France and America, both by sea and land.
Flattering letters were again sent on to lord Cornwallis; but promises and distant expectations were far from being adequate to the relief of a mind borne down by disappointment, and the failure of the means of supporting his own military character. He was also sensible, that the dignity of command, and the royal cause, were suffering by delay, indecision, and, as he thought, from less justifiable motives. He was exhorted to hold out till about the twelfth of October, when sir Henry Clinton thought it  probable he might receive assistance, if no unavoidable accident should take place; or at farthest by the middle of November. At the same time, he intimated, that if his lordship should be reduced to the utmost extremity, before the arrival of reinforcements, he himself would endeavour to make a diversion by an attack on Philadelphia, in order to draw off a part of Washington’s army. * These all appeared to lord Cornwallis, very indigested, absurd, and inconsistent ideas. He immediately informed sir Henry Clinton, that he saw no means of forming a junction with him, but by York River, and that no meditated diversion toward Philadelphia, or any where else, could be of any use.
Lord Digby however arrived at New York on the twenty-ninth of September. One of the princes † of the blood had taken this opportunity to visit America, probably with a view of sovereignty over a part, or the whole of the conquered colonies. This was still anticipated at the court of St. James: and perhaps, in the opinion of the royal parents, an American establishment might be very convenient for one of their numerous progeny.
 Lord Digby was several days detained at New York, before arrangements were made for the embarkation of the troops to reinforce lord Cornwallis, and for the sailing of the mighty naval armament for the Chesapeake. In the mean time, sir Henry Clinton busied himself in writing letters full of specious promises, as if artfully designed to buoy up the hopes of lord Cornwallis, by strong assurances that no time should be lost in sending forward a force sufficient for his relief. He informed him, that a fleet under the command of lord Digby, who had recently arrived at New York, would sail for the Chesapeake by the fifth of October; that himself was nearly ready to embark with a large body of troops; and in the most sanguine terms, exhorted his lordship to endeavour to keep his opponents in play, and to hold out against every discouragement, until he should receive the needful assistance, which another British fleet, and the addition of a body of troops headed by himself, would secure.
These flattering assurances and pressing entreaties from the commander in chief, induced lord Cornwallis to evade a general action. It was his opinion, that when the combined troops arrived, he could only attempt the defence of York-Town. He was posted there by general Clinton’s express orders, contrary to his own judgment. He had always (as has been before observed) thought this an ineligible situation,  and far from being long defensible, without much larger reinforcements both by land and sea, than he had reason to expect would arrive seasonably.
His situation had been for some time truly distressing. Embarrassed between his own opinion and the orders of his superior in command, flattered by the promise of timely relief, and that in such force as to enable him to cope with the united armies of France and America, he thought it his duty to wait the result, and not suffer himself to be impelled by contingent circumstances, to risk his army beyond the probability of success. This prevented any advance to action, at the same time that it forbid his endeavouring to retreat from Virginia, until too late, when he had only to wait suspended between hope and fear, the uncertain chances of war. He acknowledged afterwards, that had he seasonably retired toward Carolina, though the attempt would have been difficult, he might have saved his army from their impending fate.
Though the courage and the inclination of lord Cornwallis might prompt him in his present circumstances, to lead out his troops and hazard an engagement in the open field, yet his judgment or his prudence could not justify the risk, while he had the smallest hopes, that a few  days might place him in a situation to combat on more equal terms. His destiny often marked by disappointment, he had at the same time much reason to despair of a successful termination of the campaign, even if the forces from New York should arrive in season. Yet, he observed to sir Henry Clinton, that
if he had no hopes of relief, he should rather risk a general action, than attempt to defend his half-finished works. But, as you say Digby is hourly expected, and promise every exertion to assist me, I do not think myself justified in putting the fate of the war on so desperate an attempt.
The British commander was fully apprised of the difficulties that would attend his armament under existing circumstances, even if the troops from New York should arrive before his fate was decided. The mouth of the river was blocked up by a very large French fleet; the American army in high health and spirits, strengthened by daily recruits, led on by Washington, in whom they had the highest confidence, in conjunction with a fine army of Gallicans, headed by the count de Rochambeau, an officer of courage, experience, and ability, were making rapid advances. On the twenty-eighth of September they had left Williamsburgh, and on the sixth of October they opened their trenches before York-Town.
 His lordship determined however, notwithstanding the choice of difficulties that pressed upon him, to make the best possible defence. His army was worn down by sickness and fatigue, but there was no want of resolution or valor; his officers were intrepid, and his men brave. They acquitted themselves with spirit; and kept their ground from the sixth to the sixteenth of October; when they became convinced, that the abilities and the experience of the count de Rochambeau, the cool equanimity of general Washington, and the vigor and valor of their officers and troops, rendered the united army irresistible in the present situation of their opponents.
Lord Cornwallis had now only to choose between an immediate surrender or an effort to escape, and save a part of his army by flight. He contemplated either a retreat southward, or an endeavour to force his way through the states between Virginia and New York, to join general Clinton. But, equally hazardous, he determined on the last expedient. For this purpose, he with the utmost secrecy, passed in the night of the sixteenth, the greatest part of his army from York-Town to Gloucester, leaving only a detachment behind to capitulate for the town’s people, the sick, and the wounded.
But fortune did not favor the enterprise. It is true the boats had an easy passage, but at the  critical moment of landing his men, his lordship observed, that
the weather suddenly changed from moderate and calm, to a violent storm of rain and wind, that carried the boats down the river, with many of the troops who had not time to disembark. It was soon evident, that the intended passage was impracticable; and the absence of the boats rendered it equally impossible to bring back the troops that had passed, which I had ordered about two in the morning.*
Here the serious mind will naturally reflect, how often the providential interference of the elements defeat what appears to be the most judicious design of the short-sighted creature, man.
The state of lord Cornwallis’s mind at this time, the insurmountable difficulties of his situation previous to his surrender, and the subsequent consequences, may be seen at large in his letter to sir Henry Clinton, dated October twenty-first, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one. *
In this letter he details the circumstances of his disappointment, in the last mode adopted for the safety of his army. It has been observed, that his troops were dispersed by the storm  by which the boats were driven down the river, though some of them returned to York-Town the ensuing day. Desperate as was the situation of the British troops, a feint of resistance was still made, by an order to lieutenant colonel Abercrombie, to sally out with four hundred men, to advance, attack, and spike the cannon of two batteries which were nearly finished. This excursion was executed with spirit and success, but attended with no very important consequences.†
The combined armies of France and America had continued their vigorous operations without the smallest intermission, until prepared for the last assault on the town, which they began at the dawn of the morning after the circumstances above related had taken place. In this hopeless condition, his own works in ruins, most of his troops sick, wounded, or fatigued, and without rational expectation of relief from any quarter, the British commander found it necessary, in order to escape the inevitable consequences  of further resistance, to propose terms of submission.
Lord Cornwallis, confident of the humanity and politeness of his antagonists, made proposals on the seventeenth to the commanders of the combined army, for a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours. This was granted: but toward the expiration of the term, general Washington, in a letter to the British commander, acquainted him, that desirous to spare the farther effusion of blood, he was ready to listen to such terms of surrender as might be admissible; and that he wished, previous to the meeting of any commissioners for that purpose, to have his lordship’s proposals in writing. At the same time he informed lord Cornwallis, that after the delivery of this letter, only two hours of suspension of hostilities would be granted for consideration.
The time limited being thus short, the British commander, without a detail of many particulars, proposed terms of capitulation in a very concise manner.
General Washington, equally perspicuous and decisive, in a few words intimated to his lordship the only terms that would be accepted: that if his proposals were rejected, hostilities would be re-commenced within two hours of the delivery of those terms.
 In consequence of these negociations between the commanders, commissioners were immediately appointed to prepare and digest the articles of capitulation. It is not easy to conceive or to relate the mortification his lordship must have felt, at seeing his troops conquered by superior prowess and good fortune, and laying down their arms at the feet of the victorious Washington. This chagrin was undoubtedly much heightened, by the necessity of submitting to terms imposed in conjunction with the servants of a rival power, whom the kings of Great Britain, and the nation they govern, had viewed for many centuries with hatred and detestation.
The gentlemen appointed on the part of America to draw up the articles of capitulation, were the count de Noailles, a French nobleman who had served as an officer in the defence of the United States for a considerable time, and colonel John Laurens, a distinguished character, a son of the unfortunate ambassador who had been deputed to negociate in behalf of America at the Hague, but at this time was confined in the tower of London, and very severely treated.
The singularity of some circumstances relative to this gentleman, cannot be passed over unnoticed in this place. He was suffering a rigorous imprisonment in England: he had presented a  petition for some amelioration of the severities exercised against him; this was rejected; his veracity disputed by the minister; and his detention justified by lord Mansfield, as legal, politic, and necessary, to prevent the accomplishment of his pernicious projects.*
By a strange concurrence of events, the earl Cornwallis, constable of the tower of London, was now on the point of becoming a prisoner, and submitting to articles of surrender for himself and his army, under the dictation of the son of Mr. Laurens, the same gentleman heretofore alluded to, when an attempt was made by the British administration, to corrupt the integrity of both father and son. By the capitulation, his lordship was reduced to the humiliating condition of a prisoner to the American congress, while the father of colonel Laurens remained shut up in the tower, a prisoner to the captured earl.
However, as soon as circumstances permitted, an interchange of prisoners took place. The noble lord, who with his army fell into the hands of the American commander, was restored to liberty by an exchange for Mr. Laurens, who had long languished in the tower of London. The court of Britain had before rejected  the proposal that Mr. Laurens should be exchanged for general Burgoyne; but they were soon after this glad to receive an officer of equal rank to almost any in the nation, in exchange for the American minister.
A detail of the particular articles of capitulation may not be necessary; for them the reader is referred to the Appendix:* it is enough to observe at present, that the British army was permitted only the same honors of war, that lord Cornwallis had granted the Americans on the surrender of Charleston the preceding year. The officers were allowed their side-arms, but the troops marched with their colors cased, and made their submission to general Lincoln, precisely in the same manner his army had done to the British commander, a few months before.
Here we cannot but pause a moment, to reflect on the vicissitudes of human life, the accidents of war, or rather the designations of Providence, that one day lift to the pinnacle of human triumph, and another, smite the laurel from the brow of the conqueror, and humble the proud victor at the feet of his former prisoner.
 As general Lincoln had recently felt the mortification of yielding himself and his troops into the hands of the royal army, he was selected to conduct the military parade, and receive the submission of the British veterans. This might be thought by some, to wear rather too much the air of triumph; but it was judged a kind of compensation for his own military misfortunes, while it might call into exercise the feelings of benevolence. These ever operate more strongly on the human character from the experience of sufferings, except in such ferocious minds as are actuated only by the principles of revenge.
This was far from being the spirit of Americans; their victories were generally accompanied with so much moderation, that even their enemies acknowledged their generosity. General Burgoyne and others had often done this; and lord Cornwallis now expressed both pleasure and surprise, at the civility, kindness, and attention, shewn by the victor to the vanquished foe. In a letter to sir Henry Clinton, after mentioning the Americans in very handsome terms, his lordship observed, that
he could not describe the delicate sensibility of the French officers on this occasion; and that he hoped their conduct would make an impression in the breast of every British officer, when the fortune of war might again put any  prisoners, either American or French, in the power of that nation.
Thus terminated the efforts of administration to reduce the United States, by first conquering the southern colonies. On the nineteenth of October, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one, a second British army yielded themselves prisoners to the confederated states of America. The humiliation of the present captured army, as above observed, was enhanced by the circumstances that made it necessary for the British battalions, to bow beneath the banners of their hereditary enemies of France, in conjunction with the stars of America.* One of these armies, before its capture, had ostentatiously anticipated the conquest of the north; the other had enjoyed the cruel triumph of devastation and spoil, through the warmer latitudes of the south.
With incredible fatigue and fortitude, and no less zeal and havoc, had the British army, and the royal partisans belonging to the American states who had joined them, harassed and spread terror and desolation for many months, from the borders of Georgia to the extremities of Virginia.
 Within five days after the surrender of all the posts that had been held by lord Cornwallis, a British fleet from New York, under the command of lord Digby, with sir Henry Clinton and seven thousand troops on board, entered the bay of Chesapeake in full confidence of success; but to their inexpressible mortification, they had only to appear and retreat.
By the capitulation, all the shipping in the harbor was left to the disposal of the count de Grasse, with the exception only of the Bonetta sloop of war. This was granted to lord Cornwallis to carry his dispatches to New York. It included the liberty of conveying as many of his troops as was convenient, to be exchanged for an equal number of American prisoners. His humanity prompted him to avail himself of this liberty, to ship off, instead of soldiers, the most obnoxious of the loyalists, terrified beyond description at the idea of falling into the hands of their countrymen, against whom they had made every exertion, both by their influence and their arms. After the return of the Bonetta, as stipulated, she also was to be delivered at the order of the French admiral.
The delay of reinforcements both by sea and land, until lord Cornwallis and his army were irretrievably lost, was a misfortune and a neglect that could not easily be excused or forgiven, either by the ministry, the nation, or the numerous  friends of this unfortunate nobleman. Much altercation took place afterwards between sir Henry Clinton and lord Cornwallis, with little satisfaction to the wounded feelings of the last, and as little advantage to the sinking character of the first.
The surrender of lord Cornwallis’s army was an event that produced more conviction in the minds of men, that the American colonies could not be conquered by the arms of Great Britain, than any circumstance that had previously taken place. It was asserted by some British writers at the time, that
this was an event which carried a kind of irresistible conviction with it, even to those who were the least inclined to the admission of so humiliating a truth. When it was seen, that the most distinguished and successful general that had engaged in the royal cause, was obliged to surrender himself and his whole army prisoners of war, the generality even of those who had been the most earnest for the subjugation of America, began now to be convinced, that it was totally impracticable. But those who had a sincere regard for the honor and interests of Great Britain, could not reflect but with the utmost regret, that nearly one hundred millions of money should have been expended, and so many thousand valuable lives lost, in this unhappy contest; in a contest which had produced nothing but the loss of  our American colonies, an accumulation of the public debt, an enormous load of taxes, and a great degree of national dishonor; and which had afforded too much ground for the triumph and exultation of our most inveterate enemies. *
The defence of York-Town and Gloucester had always appeared chimerical to the British commander in Virginia; yet from the printed correspondence afterwards in every hand, he appeared perfectly right in his adherence to the orders of general Clinton, and justifiable in his endeavours to support himself there, until the promised reinforcements should arrive.
No man ever appeared more embarrassed when dangers approached, or more indecisive in many instances of his conduct, through the course of his American command, than sir Henry Clinton. Yet he was not deemed deficient in point of courage; though he never discovered, either in design or execution, those traits of genius or capacity, that mark the great man or the hero.
He had often been mistaken in his calculations, as had most of the British commanders, with regard to the ability, vigor, and valor of  American troops. But combined with an European army, commanded by officers of the first military knowledge and experience, and the numbers that flocked with alacrity to the American standard, as they moved southward, in the fullest confidence in the judgment and abilities of general Washington, were circumstances sufficient to have eradicated those opinions, and to have quickened the movements of the commander at New York, in the same ratio that it awakened the apprehensions of an officer of more judgment in Virginia.
But whatever impression a combination of French and American troops might at that time make on the mind, yet the hereditary hatred of the one, and the affected contempt of the other, had always led the commanders of Albion armies, to hold the haughty language characteristic of the national pride of Britain. After this period, the defeat of their armies and their most renowned officers, taught them a more humble deportment; and more just and modest accents were dictated from the lip of their captured generals.
The comparative military merits of the distinguished British characters that figured and fell in America, may be left to the masters in tactics to decide; but it may not be improper to observe, that the tribute of applause, both for generalship and abilities, may be more justly  attributed to lord Cornwallis than to sir Henry Clinton. Notwithstanding the unfortunate conclusion of his lordship’s southern campaign, he was doubtless a man of understanding, discernment, and military talents, better qualified to act from his own judgment, than as subordinate to general Clinton.
Nothing of the kind could exceed the exhilaration of spirits that appeared throughout America, on the defeat at York-Town and the capture of the British army. The thanks of congress were given, and recorded on their journals, to the count de Rochambeau, general Washington, and the count de Grasse; expressive of the sense they had of their merits, and the high esteem they felt for the services they had rendered to the United States. Public rejoicings were every where displayed by the usual popular exhibitions; thanksgivings were offered at the sacred altars; and the truly religious daily poured out their oraisons of praise, for the interposition of Divine Providence in favor of the American states.
By other descriptions of persons, little less gratitude and devotion was expressed toward Washington, Rochambeau, and the count de Grasse. They were the subjects of their eulogies and their anthems; the admiration of the brave, and the idols of the multitude: and in the complimentary addresses of all, they were  designated the instruments of their salvation, the deliverers from impending ruin, and the protectors from the concomitant evils of protracted war.*
Among the horrors that attend the operations of hostile armies, the situation of those unfortunate men captured by their enemies, is none of the least. There has yet been no attempt in these annals, at a particular description of the sufferings of those victims of misery. The compassionate heart would rather draw a veil over those principles in human nature, which too often prompt to aggravate, rather than to relieve, the afflictions of the wretched, who are thrown into the hands of their enemies by the uncertain chances of war.
In consequence of the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army, and some other decided strokes of success in the southern states, a general exchange of prisoners soon after took place between the hostile parties. There were doubtless  many instances of individual cruelty and unjustifiable rigor exercised toward prisoners who fell into American hands. Impartiality forbids any extenuation of such conduct on either side. It has been alleged by some, that instigated by the shocking inhumanity inflicted on their countrymen, retaliation and summary punishment was in some instances necessary; but this will not excuse a deviation from the laws of benevolence, and is far from being a sufficient plea for the victor to enhance the sufferings of the vanquished.
Yet it must be allowed, that the general treatment of this unhappy class of men by the contending powers, will not bear a comparative survey. Many of the captured Americans were sent to Great Britain, where they were for a time treated with almost every severity short of death. Some of them were transported to the East Indies; others put to menial services on board their ships: but after some time had elapsed, those in general who were conveyed to England, might be deemed happy, when their sufferings were contrasted with those of their countrymen who perished on board the prison ships in America, under the eye of British commanders of renown, and who in many respects were civilized and polite.
No time will wipe off the stigma that is left on the names of Clinton and Howe, when posterity  look over the calculations, and find that during six years of their command in New York, eleven thousand Americans died on board the Jersey, a single prison ship, stationed before that city for the reception of those victims of despair. Nor was the proportion smaller of those who perished in their other jails, dungeons, and prison hulks.
It is true that in England, the language of government held up all the American prisoners as rebels, traitors, insurgents, and pirates; yet this did not prevent the compassionate heart from the exercise of the benign virtues of charity and brotherly kindness. The lenient hand of many individuals was stretched out for their relief: subscriptions were repeatedly set on foot, and very liberal donations made by several characters of high rank; and many well disposed persons exhibited the most generous proofs of compassion to the languid prisoner.
This charitable deportment was not confined within the circle of those, who had either secretly or openly avowed themselves the friends, or had advocated the principles, of the American opposition. For some time before peace took place, more lenient measures were observed by government toward those who were captured and carried to England. They were considered and treated as prisoners of war; compassion was every where extended to the unfortunate  strangers; and the liberal contributions of various classes ameliorated their sufferings in a distant land, where no tender connexions could extend the hand of pity. While their sorrows were thus softened, their brethren in America, in the neighbourhood of parents, children, and the most affectionate partners, not permitted to receive from them the necessary relief, were dying by thousands, amidst famine, filth, and disease.
Great efforts had been made for earlier relief to many of the sufferers of every condition, but without effect. Not even general Burgoyne had yet been exchanged: from the many difficulties that arose with regard to the convention at Saratoga, he was still held on parole as a prisoner. The various delays and equivocations relative to the detention of this gentleman, and the refusal of the minister to exchange him for Mr. Laurens, had induced congress to summon him to return to America, agreeable to his parole. The ill state of health to which this unfortunate officer was reduced, from his fatigue of body in long military services, and his vexation of mind in consequence of the ill treatment of his employers, prevented his compliance with this requisition. General Clinton endeavoured, as far as in his power, to procure his exchange; but as no officer of equal rank was then in the hands of the Americans, it had been stipulated, that one thousand and forty men should be  given for his ransom. This was humorously said by a member of parliament,* to be a fair equivalent—"a quantity of silver for a piece of gold.”
General Burgoyne very justly thought himself highly injured by the treatment of the ministry; but he observed himself in the house of commons, in the beginning of the sessions of the ensuing winter, that he had not complained, though every officer in the army, down to the serjeants, had been exchanged. He said, however, that he acceded to the propriety of this, because he had resigned his commission, and thereby put himself into a situation, which rendered it impossible for him to be of any service to his country in a military capacity. He also observed, that he thought it more proper, that those should be first exchanged, from whose exertions in the field the nation might receive advantage. But, with the spirit of a man of honor and an officer of resolution, he declared, that
sooner than condescend either to seek or to receive the smallest favor, from the hands of men who had heaped the grossest injuries upon his head, he would even return to America, be locked up in the gloomiest dungeon which the congress might assign him, and devote himself as that sacrifice, which his  enemies had long endeavoured to offer up to their resentment.†
General Burgoyne observed, that the circumstances of the Cedars men, which had been the subject of so much altercation, was well known to the ministry; and that he thought all who knew the resolution of congress on that subject, as well as himself, must be convinced, that the conduct of the ministry in this matter was very singular and extraordinary. The determined spirit of that body was so well known, that a second proposition to exchange the Cedais men for him, could be calculated only to delay or prevent his release. He added,
that it was surely singularly hard, that he should be the only one of all the army that had surrendered at Saratoga, who had not been included in the exchange of prisoners, and restored to liberty. It was an injustice beyond all example, that every officer and every man in the army should have received the valuable privilege of freedom, and that he alone, who was commander in chief on that occasion, should still be continued a prisoner.
The dispute in point was concisely this: The British government insisted, that a party of Americans who, some time before the convention  at Saratoga, had been taken at a place called the Cedars, and had made their escape, should still be considered as their prisoners; and offered them as a part of the number stipulated for the exchange of general Burgoyne. This, congress peremptorily refused; and demanded the whole number agreed on, exclusive of the Cedars men, for the release of the British commander from his parole. They did not consider the party at the Cedars, who had been surprised, but not held in duress, as the description of men to be exchanged for a British general.
The mutual charges of breaches of the articles, between congress and the British commander, occasioned a long and grievous captivity to the convention troops. As each side justified their own conduct, and no compromise could be made in the state of things which had long existed, these unfortunate men had been removed by order of congress from Cambridge, and conducted to the interior parts of one of the southern states. There they remained until the auspicious events above related, returned them to the bosom of their country and friends, in lieu of an equal number of Americans, who had many of them languished for as long a period, in the dreary apartments assigned the prisoners in New York, Charleston, and wherever else British head-quarters were established, in any part of the United States.
 The American congress, in a few weeks after the termination of the campaign in Virginia, resolved, that as a preliminary to the discharge of the convention troops, all accounts of expenditures for their support should be immediately settled and discharged. At the same time, they authorised general Washington to set lord Cornwallis at liberty, on condition of the complete liberation of Mr. Laurens. These several proposals and demands were made and received in England in the beginning of the winter, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two.
On the offer of the congress of the United States, immediately to release lord Cornwallis on fair and honorable terms, Mr. Burke, with his usual dexterity of combining and bringing into view, objects the most striking and impressive on the passions of men, observed, that the British ministry had been brought to some sense of justice in a moment;
warned by a star that had arisen, not in the east, but in the west, which had convinced them of the danger of longer persevering in their unmanly, revengeful, and rigid treatment of Mr. Laurens. This was no other than the news arriving, that the son of Mr. Laurens, a brave, worthy, and accomplished officer in the American service, had earl Cornwallis in his custody; and that his treatment of his noble prisoner, was directly the reverse of that experienced by Mr. Laurens’s father, who was then locked up  in that tower, of which lord Cornwallis was the constable.
Mr. Burke, in a very pathetic style, detailed the variety of sufferings, hardships, and injustice, which had been inflicted on Mr. Laurens during his long imprisonment. This, with other instances of severe and injudicious treatment of prisoners, he made the ground-work of a proposed bill, to obviate the difficulties arising from the present mode of exchanging the American prisoners; a mode which, he remarked, was at once disgraceful and inconvenient to the government of the kingdom. He urged, that “motives of humanity, of sound policy, and of common sense, called loudly for a new law, establishing a regulation totally different from the present, which was fundamentally erroneous.” However, Mr. Laurens obtained his release from the circumstances above mentioned, before any new regulation of the British code of laws, relative to prisoners or any other object, took place.
C H A P T E R X X I I
General Wayne sent to the Southward • Embarrassments of General Greene in that Quarter • Recovery of Georgia, and Evacuation of Savannah by the British • Death and Character of Colonel Laurens • Character of General Greene • Consequent Observations
chap. xxii Immediately after the successful operations in Virginia, the count de Grasse took leave of his American friends, and conformably to orders received from his court before he left France,1781 sailed for the West Indies. He left the continent in the beginning of November, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one. He was accompanied with the gratitude and good wishes of almost every individual in the United States; nor was this more than justice required.
A most extraordinary reverse of fortune and prospects had taken place in America, after the arrival of this brave commander and the auxiliaries of his nation, who had come forward and lent their aid to the Americans. This assistance was received by the United States, at a period when her armies, and America herself, stood in the most serious and solemn point of her distress.
 Decorated with the laurels of military fame, several of the principal officers withdrew from Virginia, and repaired to other quarters. General Washington, laden with the splendid trophies of victory, went on to Philadelphia, where, by particular request of congress, he continued some time. There he received a personal and complimentary address from that body, and the applauses of all conditions of men, in a degree sufficient to stimulate the least ambitious mind to pursue the path of victory, until time should bring a period of rest to the pursuits of war.
The marquis la Fayette, desirous to revisit his native country, which had been several years involved in a war with Great Britain, embraced the present opportunity and returned to France. He was complimented by congress with an advance of rank in the army, and the highest expressions of esteem for his bravery and good conduct in their service. With a strong attachment to the inhabitants, and the most friendly disposition toward the United States, he promised to return again to America with further aids, if it should be found necessary to try the fortune of another campaign, before the contested object should be completely obtained.
After the capture of the British army, the surrender of their shipping in the Chesapeake,  and the restoration of tranquillity in the state of Virginia, general Wayne was ordered on with the Pennsylvania line, to march with the utmost dispatch to South Carolina, to the aid of general Greene, who had yet many difficulties to encounter in that quarter. The distance from the central states, and the long service at the southward, had exposed the American commander, and the army there, to sufferings indescribable.
After the action at the Eutaw Springs, we left general Greene on the High-Hills of Santee, where he thought it necessary to repair, to secure and recruit the remainder of his army, and to wait the exigencies that might again call him forward to the more active scenes of the field. He did not continue there long, before he thought proper to move forwards toward Jacksonborough. There the light troops from Virginia, that had been commanded by the colonels Laurens and Lee, joined him: but the whole army was so destitute of ammunition, and every other necessary for an advance to any action, that they had scarcely the means of supporting themselves in a defensive condition: of consequence, only some small skirmishes ensued, without much advantage to either party. It was happy for the Americans, that their enemies were now almost as much reduced in numbers as themselves. Yet the variegated causes of  distress among this small remnant of continental soldiers, were almost unnumerable.
They were in an unhealthy climate, always unfriendly to northern constitutions. They were destitute of many of the necessaries for carrying on war with advantage, and almost without the means of supporting human life. In addition to this, the general had to combat disaffection, discontent, and mutiny, in his own army. The Maryland line particularly, had indulged a mutinous spirit to an alarming extreme, which required all the address of the commander in chief to suppress. At the same time, he had to encounter dangers of every kind from a valiant enemy, stimulated to cruelty by many circumstances that let them almost to despair of their own cause.
On the other hand, the disaffection of most of the inhabitants of Charleston, and the fickleness of the country on which he had depended, had been indeed discouraging circumstances to lord Rawdon. Not willing to risk his constitution longer in that insalubrious latitude, he had embarked for England in the summer, was captured on his passage by the count de Grasse, but was soon after restored to his native country. The troops he left behind were not in want of food, clothing, or warlike stores; while the little American army under general Greene, was naked to that extreme, that they  had scarcely rags left to veil them from the most indecent appearances. *
In this wretched situation, general Greene and his little army continued through the winter; and such was the severe and vigilant duty of the officers, that for seven months the general himself was not able to take off his clothes for a night. This is sufficient to prove the assertion in one of his letters, that the army was so destitute of every thing, that it was not able to make a march of a day.
General Leslie had again, by proclamation, called on all who had still any remains of attachment to the British government, to adhere firmly to the royal cause. He assured them of the strongest support in his power, notwithstanding the acts of disfranchisement, confiscation, and banishment, which took place after governor Rutledge had again resumed the administration of civil government. However, Leslie did not receive any new additions of strength by his proclamations, or his letters of altercation with the governor who succeeded Mr. Rutledge, relative to the civil police of the country. Nor (as observed) was general Greene able to advance, or take a single step further, to put a period to the power of the British arms in that  state. But it was not long before general Leslie proposed a cessation of arms. The citizens were sickly, the loyalists disheartened, and his own troops reduced. Every circumstance, and every party, required a respite from the distresses of war. As general Greene had not yet been authorised by congress to accede to the proposal, he did not immediately comply.
The advance of general Wayne with his detachment from the army in Virginia, which reached South Carolina before the close of the present year, was a necessary acquisition, and had been impatiently expected. Without this, it would have been impossible for general Greene to have held out much longer. Some provisions, clothing, and other necessaries, reached the army in the ensuing spring. This partially relieved the American commander from the complicated distresses he had suffered the preceding winter. It restored more order and satisfaction among his troops; the discontents and mutinous disposition among some of them were dissipated; and he was able, with truth, soon afterwards to observe in general orders, that
It is his happiness that he has the honor to command an army, that has not been less distinguished for its patience, than bravery: and it will add no small lustre to your character to say, that you have rejected with abhorrence, the practice of plundering and the exercise of cruelty, although urged by your  necessities to the former, and by the example of your enemies to the last. United by principle, and connected by affection, you have exhibited to the world a proof, that elevated souls, and persevering tempers, can triumph over every difficulty.
General Wayne did not stay long in South Carolina, but marched forward by order of general Greene, to cross the Savannah. He was reinforced by a party from Augusta, sent forward to his aid. Though the state of Georgia was considered by the British as completely subjugated to their power, yet there was a considerable number of the inhabitants who still co-operated with congress, and continued a delegation of members to that body, through all the hostile movements or changes, that had for several years been shifting the prospects of the inhabitants, who had been generally the subjects of the British crown, more in name than reality; and the greater their distance from the centre of British operations, the less were they disposed to submit to British authority. A few other troops besides those from the neighbourhood of Augusta, who had been stationed at different posts, but retained their attachment to the American cause, joined the troops collected under the command of general Wayne.
Thus the state of Georgia was relieved at a time when they least expected it. Animated  by the successes in Virginia, and ambitious for the honor of relieving the state of Georgia, the advance of general Wayne was rapid, and his arrival on the borders very unexpected to general Clarke, who commanded at Savannah.
On the first rumor of the march of this party of victorious Americans, orders were given by general Clarke to the officers commanding the British out-posts, to burn and destroy every thing on the fertile banks of the river, and to retire with the troops, within the works in the suburbs of the town.
After this waste of property, and the destruction of their crops, the Georgians and the few American troops there to support them, had more to endure than at any period before, from hunger, fatigue, the attacks of British partisans, the irruptions of the Creek Indians, and other savages in British service. We have seen the sufferings of that state had been grievous for several years, from invasion, slaughter, and conquest. Their subsistence now totally destroyed in the conflagration of the borders, the inhabitants were reduced to despair, until the arrival in Georgia of Wayne’s detachment.
This happy event revived their sinking spirits, and invigorated them to new exertions in defence  of their country. The inhabitants from every quarter repaired immediately to the assistance of general Wayne; who, soon after he had crossed the river, was attacked by colonel Brown, who had marched with a considerable party from Savannah. With this body of troops, he fell suddenly on and attacked general Wayne. They fought with great spirit and valor, but were soon defeated, and driven back by the Americans.
A few days after this, a very large body of the Creek Indians, accompanied by their principal warriors and chieftains, headed by a British officer, attempted in the night to surprise general Wayne in his quarters. He, ever vigilant, and defying all personal danger, was in greater readiness for their reception than was expected. The assailants gained little advantage by this sudden onset. The affray was fierce, but did not continue long, before the Indians were willing to retreat, having lost a number of their principal associates.
But the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army, the low state of British affairs in the Carolinas, and the advance of a body of American troops, were circumstances so discouraging, that the British did not think proper to make any vigorous resistance. A period was soon put to those hostilities that had for several years ravaged the state of Georgia, and destroyed or  driven away many of its former inhabitants.
General Wayne was an officer of high military reputation. His prudence and judgment had been conspicuous, in the trying scene which called out his talents in one thousand seven hundred and eighty, on the mutiny and secession of the Pennsylvania line, which he commanded. His valor had been signalized at Stoney Point and in Virginia, as well as in many other places where decided action was necessary. He now had the honor of terminating the war in the state of Georgia.
On the expectation of the British leaving Savannah, some proposals were made to general Wayne by the merchants and others, for the security of their property; and every reasonable indulgence was promised by him, to those who chose to remain there. He engaged, that those merchants who did not owe allegiance to the United States, should be permitted to remain there a reasonable time, to dispose of their property and settle their affairs; and that they should be protected by the military, until delivered into the hands of the civil authority.
Thus, in a few months after the events above mentioned, the whole state of Georgia was evacuated by their formidable enemies. This was early in the year one thousand seven hundred  and eighty-two. Not a single British soldier was left in the pay of the king of England, except such as were prisoners to the Americans. Much to the honor of general Clarke, he quitted the post without any injury to the town of Savannah, and left the works standing that had been erected by the industry of the royal troops.
This defeat of the efforts of the British government to hold the state of Georgia in subjection, fully justified the observations of lord Maitland, who had served his country with ability and applause in several parts of America. By his exertions, in conjunction with general Prevost, the state of Georgia had been long retained, against the combined force of an American army under general Lincoln, and a French fleet commanded by the count de Estaing.
The sum of lord Maitland’s speech in the British parliament, on his return to England afterwards, was, that those men who had brought the nation into its present state, had come into life at a time, when the arms of their country were carried to an unprecedented height of splendor and glory; when the empire was under the benefit of wise councils, and of a vigorous system; great and respectable abroad, opulent and happy at home; when her trade covered every sea, and filled every port in the world; and when  her navy claimed and enjoyed the proud and enviable dominion of the seas.
He observed, that
their predecessors had come into life with gay prospects, and with pleasing hopes; but how different was the fate of himself, and those who entered into public life at the present moment? They came upon the stage of public action, at a time when their country was perhaps upon the eve of dissolution; when it certainly was fallen from the high consideration in which it stood a few years before, and when every prospect of grandeur was vanished; when every incitement to great and laudable ambition was extinguished, and when they had not even the consolation to believe, that the efforts of their youth could snatch their country from impending ruin.
His lordship added
that the prosecution of the war against America was criminal and absurd beyond expression; and that nothing short of the immediate discontinuance of it, could save the nation from irretrievable destruction. It was, therefore, the duty of that house, to raise their sinking country, which lay prostrate at their feet, and sought, amidst the bitterest hours of calamity, their aid to snatch her from impending ruin.
Though the state of Georgia was now happily relieved from the oppression of its foreign  foes, South Carolina continued some time longer in a state of hostility. They remained several months exposed to the ravages of small parties of the British, sent out for various purposes; the most important of which was, to collect provisions for their own immediate necessities.
Among the most painful events which took place on these occasions, and which was justly regretted by all America, was the death of colonel John Laurens. No one acquainted with his merits, can forbear to drop a tear over the memory of so worthy an officer. His zeal for the interests of his country and the cause of freedom, had often been exhibited by his exertions in the field; nor was he less distinguished as an able negociator in France, where he had repaired in some of the darkest days of America. There he rendered his country the most essential service, by procuring a loan of money, and expediting by his address, the troops and the navy that came to its relief, in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.
Colonel Laurens was a gentleman, not only of great military talents and public virtues, but was endeared to every one by his affability of manners, his polite accomplishments, refined understanding, and the most amiable private character.
 Immediately after the capture of lord Cornwallis, colonel Laurens returned to the state of South Carolina, to exert his talents in emancipating his native state from the power and oppression of its enemies. His zeal and activity ever prompted him to go forward on smaller, as well as the greatest occasions that required his assistance. He met his premature fate in one of the many desultory skirmishes that took place not far from the environs of Charleston. General Leslie had sent out a party to march toward the Combahee River, to secure rice and other provisions, which his army greatly wanted. They were followed by a detachment sent on by general Greene. In this party, colonel Laurens was a volunteer. He was mortally wounded in a severe rencounter, almost at the moment when victory declared in favor of the party commanded by general Gist.
His death was universally lamented. The tears of his country were but a just tribute due to his own merits; while grief was heightened in every compassionate bosom, when reflecting on the sorrow this premature stroke must occasion to his respected father, just released from the calamities of a long imprisonment in England.
The work to be completed in the state of South Carolina was yet arduous. The sufferings of general Greene and his little army have  been already portrayed. A more ample detail of these may be seen in his own letters, if curiosity is not sufficiently gratified. The distressing accounts from his own hand, above referred to, were not ameliorated, nor did his military conflicts cease, until the final embarkation of the British troops from Charleston. Such had been the deranged state of affairs there, and such the distance of South Carolina from the central states, as had rendered it impossible for him to procure support, supplies, and pay, for his own army. He was obliged, in order to procure subsistence for them, to enter into large contracts on his own private security: this embarrassed him the remainder of his life.
As general Greene had now nearly finished his military drama, it may not be improper to observe here, that this worthy officer survived the war but a few years. He died in Georgia by a coup de soleil, or sudden stroke of the sun, not unusual in the southern parts of America, which instantly puts a period to human life. His property was afterwards seized by his creditors, and his family, after his death, left to the mercy of the public.
It would not be doing justice to his memory to pass unobserved, that general Greene conducted the whole campaign at the southward with the most consummate prudence, courage, and ability, notwithstanding the innumerable  difficulties that lay in his way. He entered on the command under every disadvantage: he superseded a brave, unfortunate, popular officer, just beaten from the field: the country was divided in opinion, and intimidated by the power of Britain. His troops unprovided, naked, and desponding, had to march a long way through a barren and inhospitable country, stripped of its small produce by the previous march of the British army. They had to attack and retreat, to advance and to fly, over rivers, swamps, and mountains, in opposition to a conquering foe, flushed with recent success, who considered at that time, South Carolina and Georgia as already subdued, and North Carolina on the point of submission to royal authority.
Cities have often contended for the honor of giving birth to men of eminence: and when a great degree of celebrity has been acquired, it awakens a curiosity in every one to inquire after their origin. General Greene was a native of the state of Rhode Island. He was a gentleman of moderate fortune, who, previous to the American war, had lived in the plain and sober habits in which he was educated, which were in that simplicity of style that usually marks the manners of those denominated Quakers.
 It is well known, that the religious tenets of that sect are averse to all the operations of offensive war. The situation of America was then such, that no man of principle could balance on the line of conduct which duty impelled him to take. The natural and civil rights of man invaded, and all the social enjoyments interrupted, he did not think himself bound to sit a quiet spectator of the impending distractions and distresses of his country. He viewed the opposition to the oppressions of Great Britain, in the light of necessary and defensive war.
On these rational principles, he early girded on the buckler and the helmet; and with the purest intentions in his heart, and the sword in his hand, he came forward; nor did he resheathe it, until he had, without the smallest impeachment of reputation, passed through many of the most active and arduous scenes, as already related, and in conjunction with many others of the same patriotic and heroic feelings, essentially aided in delivering his country from foreign domination.
His valor and magnanimity, humanity and probity, through all his military career, need no other encomium than a just detail of his transactions, to complete the character of a brave and accomplished officer, formed for the command of armies, by the talents and resources  of his own mind, which were discoverable in a variety of instances.
Beloved by the soldiery, esteemed by his country; a confidential friend of the commander in chief; endowed by nature with a firmness of mind that in great characters runs parallel with hazard and fatigue; and possessing that amor patriae that bids defiance to danger and death, when contrasted with the public safety; general Greene did not leave the southern department, until the British troops were beaten from post to post, their proud designs of conquest and subjugation extinguished, the whole country recovered, and the inhabitants who survived the severe convulsion again restored to the quiet possession of their plantations. This was not finally completed until the latter part of the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, when the last remnant of British troops in the southern states, embarked under the command of general Leslie. This finished the invasion of the Carolinas, and the inglorious ravage of so fair a part of America.
Savannah and Charleston evacuated, the British troops driven from the Carolinas, and captured in Virginia; the southern states were restored to that kind of repose, which is felt after a frightful and turbulent dream, which exhausts the strength, and so far unnerves the system, that the energies of nature cannot be  immediately called into exercise. After such a total derangement of government, of civil order, and the usual course of business, it must require a considerable lapse of time to awake from a kind of torpor, the result of too much agitation, and from the languor which pervades the mind when former habits are interrupted, and the usual stimulants to action annihilated. They had to restore confidence and justice at home, to settle equitably the demands of creditors, and at the same time, to secure the debtor from oppression on each side of the Atlantic, where a long commercial intercourse had subsisted for so many years.
This variety of difficulties must be left to the arrangements which may take place, when the independence of America shall be acknowledged by foreign powers. We shall here only observe, that by the invasion of America, and the attempts of the British government to reduce the colonies by conquest, the narrow prejudices of national attachment were laid aside, and those ideas nearly obliterated, that by long habit had led America to view with peculiar respect the customs, manners, religion, and laws of the country whence she originated, and on whom she too partially leaned in the days of infantile weakness.
The American colonies from their first settlement, had little reason for this partial attachment  to the parent state. Their progress in arts and manufactures was continually checked. They were prohibited from working up many of the raw materials which the country produced, for their own necessary use. They were restricted from carrying wool from one colony to another, though the coldness of the climate in many parts of America, required the most ready means of procuring and working it into clothing. In a country abounding with iron ore, they were restrained by act of parliament, from erecting slitting-mills to manufacture it for their own use. In instances too innumerable to be again recapitulated, the British government had endeavoured to cramp the growth of the young settlements, to keep them in poverty and dependence, and to compel them to repair to their stores for almost all the necessaries of life.
It was a cruel exercise of power, to endeavour to prohibit a great people from making all the advantages they could of their own produce, and employing their stock and industry in their own way. This, as observed by a writer,
is a manifest violation of the most sacred rights of mankind. Such prohibitions are only impertinent badges of slavery, imposed without sufficient reason, by groundless jealousies.
The same writer has observed,
When the English colonies were established, and had become so considerable as to attract  the attention of the mother country, the first regulations which she made with regard to them, had always in view, to secure to herself the monopoly of their commerce; to confine their market, and to enlarge her own at their expense; and consequently, rather to damp and discourage, than to quicken and forward, the course of their industry.*
In what way therefore, it may be asked, has the policy of England contributed, either to the first establishment, or the present grandeur of America? Let the same writer reply.
In one way, and in one way only, it has contributed much. Magna virum mater! It bred and formed the men who were capable of achieving such great expectations, and of laying the foundation of so great an empire: and there is no other quarter of the world of which the policy is capable of forming, or has ever actually and in fact, formed such men. The colonies owe to the policy of Europe, the education and great views of their active and enterprising founders; and some of the greatest and most important of them, so far as concerns their internal government, owe it to scarce any thing else.
The folly and misguided policy of the government of England, has dissevered the colonies  from them forever. Their oppressions, their invasions, and aggressions, first taught America to view the island of Great Britain, with an averted eye and an alienated mind. Their alienation was completed, when the king of England sent out his fleets and his armies, strengthened by subsidized strangers, to subjugate, and bend to servile submission, the inhabitants of a country which has been emphatically styled, by one of the first statesmen and patriots* of the nation,
the promised land, the Eden of England, her seminary for seamen: that from thence England supplied the neighbouring nations with fish, tobacco, rice, and indigo; thence she draws all her naval stores; and that the command of the sea would give her the dominion of the land.
The happy termination of the melancholy events which had for a series of years pervaded America, soon after the present period, raised the United States to the zenith of their respectability. The world now viewed with humane satisfaction, millions of people, by unexampled sufferings and steady perseverance, emancipated from a foreign yoke. This pleasure was heightened by the contemplation, that a more universal spirit of liberality, and a more perfect knowledge of the rights of man, might be disseminated by their struggles for freedom, not only in the  colonies, but through a considerable part of the civilized world.
The singular combination of events which effected a total separation, and annihilated the former political relation, between Great Britain and the colonies, may be held up by the philosopher or the statesman in various points of view; while the reflective mind, which believes and rejoices in the intervention of Divine Providence, keeps its eye on that Superintending Power which governs the universe, and whose finger points the rise and fall of empires. Nor dare a weak mortal to suggest, amidst all the confusion of the present world, that they may not be permitted in order finally to complete the beauty and harmony of the divine system. The world has recently beheld an infant nation at once arise to the vigor of manhood, and with the cool resolution of maturity, opposing the intrigues and resisting the power of Britain. In strictest amity with the hereditary foe of Britain, America has been seen leading captive the armies, and smiling at the impotent threats of the king of England, to hold her longer in bondage.
This liberation of the American colonies, was the wish of the first statesmen and politicians of the world, exclusive of Englishmen; and even among them America had many powerful friends. The great lord Chatham, whose unshaken  patriotism, and incorruptible integrity, had braved the storms of court faction and intrigue, until the frowns of majesty, the fury of party, and the arts of ambitious courtiers, had caused him to retire from the helm of state, stood at the head of the distinguished list of nobles who advocated the American cause. But though his humanity and justice led him to vindicate the American opposition to ministerial measures, it was with the utmost reluctance, that he contemplated the alienation of the colonies from their dependence on the crown of Britain.
The commanding and comprehensive genius of a Chatham, viewed the consequences of such a dismemberment of the empire, in a clearer light, and with superior penetration, to most of the statesmen in England. Yet he was among the most strenuous advocates for the maintenance of the constitutional rights claimed by Americans; and on many occasions had exerted his brilliant talents in opposition to the ministerial measures relative to the colonies. He criminated the war, its prosecution, and its effects, in the most glowing epithets which ever marked his superior elocution. It is recorded,* that he once in the house of lords, felt himself  so interested in the American cause, and so warmed by the subject, that though he had passed his grand climacteric, he, with the vigor of youth and the strong language of maturity, expressed himself in his own peculiar manner. He asserted, that as
he saw the declining liberties of England, and the growing spirit of the colonies, were it not for invincible obstacles, he would infallibly retire from Britain, and spend the remainder of his days in that glorious asylum of liberty, of manliness, and of virtue.
Yet his patriotism with regard to Great Britain, and his just ideas relative to the oppression of the colonies, and their laudable opposition to ministerial measures, could never reconcile him for a moment to the thoughts of a total separation, and the unqualified independence of the United States. But his energies in their defence were called forth to the latest period of his life, when he had nearly reached the term allotted for the existence of man.
Though debilitated by pain and sickness, tortured by gout almost to the dislocation of his limbs, and from feebleness of body rendered unable to stand alone, at a critical period of national affairs, he caused himself to be supported and led into the house of lords by his friends; where the vigor of a great soul was exerted, and the oratory of Greece and Rome rivalled,  by the pathos, energy, and argument, which flowed from a lip quivering on the marge of eternity.
The sudden seizure of this noble patriot in the house of lords, while thunder rolled from his tongue, and the acumen of his arguments, like lightning, flashed conviction to the bosoms of the advocates of a continuance of war, has been told and repeated with so many affecting circumstances, that it is needless to say more in this place, than that the event of his death seemed for a time to palsy all parties, and make a pause in the prosecution of public measures.
No example in English story has exhibited a character more zealous to extricate his country, plunged in difficulties which were indeed irretrievable. To arise from the chamber of sickness and the bed of lassitude, while “every limb was a rebel to his will,” and with the awakened energies of a most vigorous mind, and the marks of a “never ebbing spirit,” is one among the singular efforts of the human soul, to continue the elevation hoped for in immortality, when the teguments of the brittle casement were on the verge of crumbling into dust. One of his biographers has observed, that those exertions of the intellectual powers, discoverable to the last, in the character of lord Chatham,
were of all others the most unparalleled, in whatever view considered, and must be forever  admired. Those instances in which the soul bursts the bands of earth, and stands alone in confessed eternity, are the most beautiful, the most pathetic, the most sublime exhibitions, of which the mind of man is capable to conceive.
The death of this illustrious champion of freedom, a justly boasted ornament of the British nation, took place at a very interesting period. It was soon after the misfortunes, the defeat, and the capture, of general Burgoyne and his army, and before the nation had recovered from their deep consternation and dismay, on the unexpected intelligence of the failure of the northern expedition. In the last speech made by the illustrious character above mentioned, who will never be passed over in silence in any historic record connected with the affairs of Great Britain, he observed, when he adverted to the disaster at Saratoga, that “the presiding deities of Great Britain appeared to have abandoned her, and that Providence militated against her arms, and spurned with indignation at her cause.”
But though the most brilliant talents were displayed, and the firmest opposition made by many of the best orators, and most enlightened and disinterested patriots of the nation, against the continuance of a ruinous war that produced  nothing but defeat and disgrace, yet we have seen that only a short time elapsed, before the king and his ministry were again ready to prosecute their hostile intentions, and to continue desolation and carnage among the inhabitants of the United States. Reiterated barbarities have been detailed, miseries displayed, and the tragic tale continued, until the mortifying surrender of a second British army. The bosom of humanity was lacerated in the barbarous scenes of protracted war; yet the breast of his Britannic majesty seemed rather hardened by the misfortunes of the nation; and the flinty hearts of a majority in parliament still urged, that the scourge of war might pursue those who claimed the just rights of men, in whatever part of the globe there appeared any attempt to defend them.
This was exhibited, not only in their determined coercion of the American colonies, and their hostile dispositions toward the Batavian republic, but even in their refusal of assistance to the little distressed state of Geneva, when struggling against the encroachments of the aristocratic branch of their government. The people of Geneva had borne too much to continue longer silent under their oppressions. They had complained, that the magistrates had encroached upon their privileges further than their constitution authorized. These complaints only drew upon themselves new severities from  an ambitious aristocracy. The democratic party had required a new code of laws, which should be a standard for the conduct of rulers, and also a clear decision on the fundamental principles of their own constitution, that they might thereby be excited to a prompt and willing obedience to the laws, when the foundation which demanded it was more clearly defined. Mutual confidence would have rested upon this basis of public order and common security, had not the intrigues of the aristocratic party defeated the salutary project.
The magistrates not only employed the most unjustifiable practices for the support of their authority, but represented their internal disputes in such exaggerated colors, and in such a favorable light for themselves, that they successfully interested several foreign powers to support their claims. The court of France interfered; the aristocratic cantons of Zurich and Berne, and the king of Sardinia co-operated; and brought forward a body of twelve thousand men, with whom they blockaded the city of Geneva. The citizens were thus compelled to admit these military mediators within their city. A code of laws was prepared under the point of the bayonet, for the future regulation of their government.
This was so inconsistent with the liberties of the people, or the independence of their republic,  that vast numbers of the Genevese abandoned the city, to seek an asylum in distant regions, where they might again possess that freedom their ancestors had once enjoyed. The deserted habitations of the citizens were converted into barracks, and a great part of the city, once flourishing under the benign influence of their liberal institutions, reduced to a desert. Thus, as observed,—
It is a just subject of regret, that the ambition of some individuals, who aimed at a degree of power to which they had no just claim, should have thus put a period to the prosperity of a republic, which has been the abode of so much liberty and happiness.
Amidst the distresses of their state, the Genevese had applied to the earl of Abingdon, once a resident among them, and a known friend to the liberties of mankind in every part of the world, to employ his influence in their favor with the court of Great Britain. In this his lordship was successless. They had besought the noble earl to continue his friendly disposition, and to urge his nation to watch over the situation of a little state, now on the point of being sacrificed to the principles of despotism, whose struggles must be interesting to all in whom the fine feelings of humanity were not totally extinguished. He replied, that it was with much regret, that he had not succeeded in his application  to the British ministry to afford relief to the oppressed state of Geneva, and that there was too much reason to fear no assistance would be lent them.
He attributed this to the present situation of Great Britain, rent by divisions at home, and surrounded by enemies abroad.* It is however probable, that their indifference might arise from the general spirit of all monarchies, to discountenance every effort of the people in favor of republicanism. It is not to be expected, there should be any partial bias to those liberal principles of democratic government, where a monarch sits enthroned with all the powers of despotism in his hands, a parliament at command to enforce his mandates, and a people ready to relinquish their own will to the caprice or the pride of a sovereign.
His lordship had observed in answer to the Genevan application, that
there was a time when the fleets of England were the speaking trumpets to the whole world. At that period their grievances would have been listened to, and their redress would have been certain. But there was a sad reverse in the affairs of Great Britain, which was no longer  in a capacity to speak to the enemies of the liberties of mankind, in its wonted tone of authority.
In Ireland, the emigrants from the ruined state of Geneva met with the most liberal encouragement, from the government, from the nobility, and from the nation at large. In an assembly of delegates of the province of Leinster, it was unanimously resolved,
that the virtuous citizens of Geneva who wished for an asylum in that kingdom, from the hand of tyranny and oppression, deserved their highest commendation; and that such of them as had established themselves amongst them, should upon every occasion receive their utmost attention and support.
Sympathy for oppressed sufferers under the hand of despotic power, had been taught the inhabitants of Ireland from similar afflictions, under which they had long groaned, and against which they were still struggling to rescue their prostrated rights and privileges, which were invaded by the haughty and domineering spirit of a more potent sister kingdom.
The history of Geneva displays a striking portrait of the means by which most republics have been subverted. This is generally done by the pride of a few families, the ambition of  individuals, and the supineness of the people. Thus an undue authority is established by a select number, more mortifying to the middling class of mankind, and which has a tendency to render more abject and servile the mass of the people, than the single arm of the most despotic individual.*
C H A P T E R X X I I I
General Observations on the Conduct of the British King and Parliament, after the Intelligence of the Capture of Lord Cornwallis and his Army • King’s Speech • Address of Thanks opposed • Proposition by Sir Thomas Pitt to withhold Supplies from the Crown • Vote carried in Favor of granting Supplies • General Burgoyne defends the American Opposition to the Measures of the Court • Variety of desultory Circumstances discussed in Parliament
chap. xxiii The close of the campaign in Virginia, in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one, was an era interesting to the empire of Britain,1781 and indeed to the European world, as well as to the United States of America. The period was beheld by the latter with a mixture of pleasure and astonishment, more easily imagined than described; and by some of the former, especially Great Britain, with chagrin and mortification, equal to their designs of conquest and subjugation. The relief of the southern colonies, and the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army, was not less unexpected than humiliating, to the king, the minister, and the British nation at large; yet from their deportment there did not appear any immediate prospect of peace.
 From the situation of American affairs at home, from the expected accession of new allies, and the general disposition of the European powers, to acknowledge the independence of the United States, and from their successes and their perseverance, it might rationally have been expected, that the contemplation of a general pacification among the contending powers, would at this time have originated in England: more especially when the expenses of the nation were calculated, and the misfortunes Great Britain had suffered during the war were considered.
Her national enemies abroad were accumulating; discontents and riots at home increasing; the complaints of Scotland alarming; and Ireland nearly in a state of insurrection. But the pride, the spirit, and the resources of the nation, appeared almost inexhaustible; and the stake of the colonies was too great to relinquish yet, though the ministry had hitherto played a losing game.
Thus when the British parliament met, after the confirmation of the loss of the army in Virginia, the capture of lord Cornwallis and his brave troops, the total defeat of the expedition to the Chesapeake, and the declining aspect of affairs in the more southern colonies, the speech from the throne was yet manifestly dictated by the spirit of hostility. The king, though he  lamented in the preamble of his speech, the loss of his brave officers and troops, and the unfortunate termination of the campaign in Virginia, he still urged the most vigorous prosecution of the war, and of measures that might extinguish that spirit of rebellion that reigned in the colonies, and reduce his deluded subjects to due obedience to the laws and government of Great Britain.
“The war,” he observed,
is still unhappily prolonged by that restless ambition which first excited our enemies to commence it, and which still continues to disappoint my earnest and diligent exertions to restore the public tranquillity. But I should not answer the trust committed to the sovereign of a free people, nor make a suitable return to my subjects for their constant and zealous attachment to my person, family, and government, if I consented to sacrifice, either to my own desire of peace, or to their temporary ease and relief, those essential rights and permanent interests, upon the maintenance of which, the future strength and security of this country must ever principally depend.
The late accounts from America had in some measure weakened the influence of the ministry, and in proportion, strengthened the party who had always execrated the American war.  But administration, too much agitated by the desire of revenge, and too haughty and powerful to bend to terms of pacification, flattered themselves, that events had not yet fully ripened a general disposition for peace. Of course, the usual compliment of an address of thanks for the speech from the throne, was brought forward; but it was opposed with unusual acrimony.
It was boldly asserted, that the speech breathed nothing but “rancor, vengeance, misery, and bloodshed.” The war was directly charged, by the advocates for peace, to the wild systems of government adopted early in the present reign. They alleged, that it was ineffectual, delusory, and ruinous; that it was founded, not in the restless ambition of the Americans, but that it ought to be charged on a ministry who were “a curse to their country; who had cut up the British possessions in the colonies, and separated England from their fellow subjects in America;” who had drawn them to the point of losing their settlements both in the East and the West Indies; who had distressed their commerce, robbed them of the once undisputed sovereignty of the seas, and rendered the nation the ridicule of Europe.*
 This was the language of Mr. Fox. Sentiments and opinions nearly similar, were expressed by Burke, Barre, and the son of the celebrated Pitt; by the lords Saville, Shelburne, Conway, and others, in the house of commons. The same temper and opinions appeared in the house of lords: the duke of Richmond, the lords Rockingham, Fitzwilliam, Maitland, and many others on the list of nobility, varied little in opinion or expression from the minority in the house of commons. They with equal warmth opposed an address to the king; they freely discussed the principles held up in the speech, and as severely censured the measures it tended to enforce.
The dissenting lords observed, that
by an address of thanks, their honor might be pledged to support a war, that from near seven years’ experience, a determination to pursue it, appeared in the highest degree frantic, desperate, and ruinous; that the principles of the present war could never be justified; that the delusions by which parliament had been led on from year to year to pursue it, were criminal; that the abuse and mismanagement of the marine department had occasioned the loss in Virginia; that the minister at the head of the board of admiralty might be justly charged with negligence, incapacity, and guilt.
 The character of Sandwich, first lord of the admiralty, was justly portrayed on this occasion, and exhibited in those glaring colors merited by his private life, as well as his political blunders. In short, every motion for a further coercion of the colonies, was reprobated by a large and respectable party in both departments of the great assembly of the nation. The opponents of administration in both houses of parliament, observed, that they were actuated by the same principles, and urged by the same motives, that had induced them to oppose for several years, the pernicious, destructive, and ruinous system of government, that had involved the nation in irretrievable difficulties.
It was even proposed in the house of commons, that the representatives of the nation should withhold all farther supplies of monies to the crown, until a redress of grievances should take place; and thus by a legal compulsion, oblige their sovereign and his ministers to act with more moderation and justice.
The son and the nephew of the late lord Chatham distinguished themselves in this debate. They seemed at that time to have the national interest at heart, and to inherit the graces of oratory and the fire of eloquence, that had through all his life been displayed by their admired and illustrious ancestor.
 Sir Thomas Pitt called for a division of the house, on the question of withholding supplies. He declared at once,
that if he retired to the doors of the house alone, he should withhold his assent to entrusting any more public monies in the hands of ministers, who had already dissipated so much wealth, and wasted such streams of human blood, in wild and fruitless projects, and who had yet shewn no contrition for the peril and disgrace in which they had involved their country.
On the other hand, many powerful reasons were urged against a step that would tend to disunite, and stain with dishonor, a nation which had been renowned for their unconquerable spirit. Lord North observed, that a generous grant of supplies to the crown, would convince their enemies, that no calamities could sink them into despair. He added,
that he always considered the American war as a matter of cruel necessity, but that it was founded on a truly British basis; that he regretted it as peculiarly unfortunate for himself, and that he would willingly make any personal sacrifices for the restoration of peace; but that the refusal of supplies to the crown, in the midst of a war raging like the present, must inevitably lead to irretrievable calamity and disgrace, while it gave strength, animation,  and triumph, to France, Spain, Holland, and America.
But the party in opposition, not appalled by his reasoning, stood firm and immoveable. They claimed a right coeval with the institution of parliament, and essential to a free government, to withhold supplies from the crown, when measures were adopted that threatened to involve the empire in endless calamities.
It is undoubtedly true, that the most effectual check on an arbitrary executive is, for the representatives of the people to hold their hand on the string of the purse. This privilege once relinquished to the will of a sovereign of whatever name, his power is without control, and his projects and his extortions may lead to poverty, misery, and slavery, beyond redemption, before a nation is apprised of its danger. “Honest and generous nations perish oftener through confidence than distrust.”
To return to the question in debate: it terminated according to the expectations of the observers of political operations. The rhetoric or the reasonings of a member of the British parliament, seldom do more than display the brilliancy of his genius, and the graces of elocution; his arguments on the one side or the other, have little influence on the pre-determinations of party; their opinions are generally  made up before the public discussion of the subject. All parties are so sensible of this, that they mutually consent, when weary of their places by protracted debate, and agree to what they call pairing off; that is, when one chooses to retire, a member of the opposite party retires with him. Thus the equilibrium or the balance continues the same at the conclusion of the most pathetic, interesting, and energetic debate, that it was in the beginning; the minister holds his dependents, and the popular speakers retain their adherents.
The numbers and the names of each are generally known, before they enter the dome that rings with the beauty, the harmony, the sublimity of their language, and the musical elegance of their finished periods. Thus the decision of the question is usually calculated, both within and without doors, previous to entering on debates on which depend the honor, the interest, and the fate of the nation.
This mode of conduct may be consistent enough with the present state of society in Europe. It is a fair deduction, that the result of human action is owing more to the existing state or stage of society, than to any deviations in the nature or general disposition of mankind. All political transactions were now systematized: reasoning on the principles of  equity and truth lost all its efficiency, if it clashed with the measures of a minister, preconcerted in the cabinet of his prince.
A very sensible writer has observed,
that in the state of society which had taken place in America, the foundations of her freedom were laid long before the nations of Europe had any ideas of what was taking place in the minds of men. Conquest, religion, law, custom, habits, and manners, confirmed by military power, had established a state of society in Europe, in which the rights of men were obliterated and excluded. The property and power of a nation had passed into the hands of the sovereign, nobility, and church.
The body of the people were without property, or any chance of securing any, and without education or knowledge to form them to any rational principles and sentiments: without property and without principle, they were of little or no consequence in the view of government: nothing was to be seen but one general degradation of the people, and an unnatural and excessive exaltation of those who had acquired power. This every where tended to corrupt both, and to give the most unfavorable idea of the capacity of the former, and of the dispositions of the latter.
 Thus, (he observes) the ministers of Britain at the time of the American contest, were men of great eminence and ability in managing business upon the European system; but they had no ideas of the state of things in America, or of a system in which nature and society had combined to preserve freedom. What they called rebellion was only the tendency of nature and society to preserve freedom, made more active by their opposition. *
Thus when the motion was made by sir Grey Cooper for the decision of a question that held out a signal for peace, or the continuance of an absurd and luckless war, the vote in favor of the latter, and of generous supplies to the crown for its support, was carried by a large majority; one hundred and seventy-two appeared in support of administration, while only seventy-seven were counted in the minority.
It would be unjust to pass over in silence the behavior of general Burgoyne at this period. He had recovered his seat in parliament, his health, and in some measure his military reputation: and no one more warmly advocated every measure for the immediate restoration of peace. He supported the motion for the recal  of all British troops from America; he pressed an immediate exchange of prisoners both in England and America; and strenuously urged every pacific advance that might comport with the honor, the equity, and the dignity of the British nation. He even justified the principles of American opposition to the measures of administration, and parliamentary decrees. He acknowledged, that when he engaged in the service against the United States he thought differently; but that he had been brought to conviction by the uniform conduct of the American states.
He added, that it was presumption to allege, that they were not in the right to resist. He observed, that it was reason, and the finger of God alone, that had implanted the same sentiments in the breasts of three millions of people: and that comparing the conduct of the ministry, as time had developed their system, he was convinced, that the American war was formed on a part of the general design against the constitution of Britain, and the unalienable rights of man.
Thus had the experience of severity from the cabinet, of ingratitude from his king and country, and of adversity in the wilds of Saratoga, taught this veteran officer, once armed for the destruction of her rights, and the desolation of America, to stand forth a champion for her invaded  liberties, a defender of the principles of her resistance to the crown of Great Britain, and an advocate for the restoration of peace, which equity required, and humanity claimed.
It is true, the principles of Americans were so fixed, and the opposition to the encroachments of parliament had been so long sustained by the united colonies, with such cool intrepidity, such a spirit of perseverance, and such a defiance of danger, as had brought almost all England to wish for the restoration of peace, even on the humiliating idea of a dismemberment of the empire, and an explicit acknowledgment of American independence. Though their affection was too generally alienated from the inhabitants beyond the Atlantic, they saw the ruin of their trade and manufactures, and felt the miseries of a war protracted from year to year, without any nearer prospect of obtaining its object.
Yet, notwithstanding the disposition of the people, neither the king, the ministry, or the majority in parliament, were at all softened by the wishes or sufferings of the nation. Nothing that could touch the passions, or operate on national interest or pride, was left unessayed by the orators in favor of reconciliation and peace. A retrospect was taken of every important transaction in the course of the war; the conduct and manoeuvres of the principal actors revised, scrutinized, and censured; yet  this interesting session ended without any conciliatory prospects.
Among the variety of affairs that were brought forward relative to America, and that were discussed with masterly precision and dignity, the cruelties exhibited at St. Eustatia, which will be immediately related, were not forgotten. The injustice exercised toward the sufferers of that unhappy island, was criminated in the most pointed language.
The treatment Mr. Laurens had received, while a prisoner in the tower of London, was recollectcd and reprobated with equal severity. The situation of other prisoners in their jails and prison ships, was painted in colors that could not fail to excite compassion. The defeat of British armies, the degradation of their best officers, the disgrace brought on the nation by the rank given to, and the confidence placed in, the infamous Arnold, were brought into the scale of accusation. Indeed, every ministerial measure was in this session censured in the house of commons, with the acrimony of resentment, and the boldness of truth, without being softened by the delicacy of the courtier.
We have seen above, that immediately after general Arnold had forfeited his honor, betrayed his trust, and endeavoured to sell his country,  he received his pecuniary reward from general Clinton, and was appointed to a distinguished military command in the Chesapeake. He was in a few months recalled from Virginia by sir Henry Clinton, ostensibly to assist in the defence of New York, but more probably to quiet the murmurs of men of more virtue, talents, and merit, than himself. They could not brook the insolence with which this dignified traitor sustained the caresses of his employers, nor the degradation felt by many officers of high rank and superior genius, to see one placed over their heads, whom all acknowledged deserved no elevation but by a halter.
The British commander in chief at New York, contrary to the old adage, appeared not to hate, but to love the traitor as well as the treason. Immediately on his recal from the Chesapeake, general Clinton had vested him with a new commission, and licensed him to ravage the borders of the state of Connecticut, and to pillage and burn the fair towns that spread along the margin of the Sound. This was a business very congenial to the character and genius of Arnold. He was accompanied by a detachment under the command of colonel Eyre. This excursion was attended with much slaughter and devastation: the inhabitants of several defenceless towns were shamefully  plundered and abused, without distinction of age or sex.
New London was more seriously attacked; and after a short and brave resistance, plundered and burnt. As soon as the town had surrendered, a number of soldiers entered the garrison: the officer who headed the party inquired who commanded it? the valiant colonel Ledyard stepped forward, and replied with ease and gallantry, “I did, sir, but you do now;” at the same moment he delivered his sword to a British officer. The barbarous ruffian, instead of receiving his submission like the generous victor, immediately stabbed the brave American. Nor was his death the only sacrifice made in that place, to the wanton vengeance of the foes of America: several other officers of merit were assassinated, after the surrender of the town; while their more helpless connexions experienced the usual cruel fate of cities captured by inhuman conquerors.
Some members in parliament endeavoured to extenuate the guilt, and defend the promotion of general Arnold, and the confidence placed in him by sir Henry Clinton. But after a recapitulation of the above transactions, and some similar events, Mr. Fox observed, that Arnold
had dispersed his panegyrics, and scattered abuse on the characters of British officers; but that he shuddered at the predicament  in which his gallant countrymen were placed, when in their military capacity they were marked with so infamous a degradation, as to have any thing to apprehend, either from the reproaches or the applauses of general Arnold: that in the character of an American officer, he had treacherously abandoned his command; and now rewarded with an active military promotion in British service, he might probably proceed hereafter to similar transactions, and sacrifice for lucre the troops of Britain.
Mr. Burke was equally severe on the character of this perfidious traitor. He observed,
that such a person could not be held by any laws, to serve with strict fidelity, the people and the sovereign against whom he was before in arms, and to whom he had fled in the very midst of acts of treachery to the states whose cause he had deserted. A man whose conduct had been marked by glaring strokes of cruelty and perfidiousness, and which had furnished an indubitable proof, that he who on one side would have sacrificed an army, was too dangerous to be trusted with the command of troops belonging to the opposing party.
He lamented that the honors of high office were thus scattered on the worthless, and frequently on men who had no inconsiderable share in the measures that tended to the disgrace and ruin of their country.
 Mr. Burke indeed, had always appeared to have a thorough detestation of corrupt men and measures. He advocated the cause of liberty, not only with the ability of an orator, but with an enthusiasm for the establishment of freedom in all countries. He was an advocate for the distressed Irish; and stretched his genius to the eastern world, to survey the abuses, and to criminate the cruelties perpetrated there by his own countrymen; and, with a pathos peculiar to himself, brought before the tribunal of the public eye, the criminal laden with the rich spoils, the diamonds and jewels of the princely widows, and the immense treasures of the distant nabobs.
He ever appeared opposed to the powerful oppressors of the people, and attached to the defenders of freedom in every nation; was the friend of Franklin and Laurens; corresponded with the first on American affairs, and made great exertions to mitigate the sufferings of the last, while in rigorous imprisonment. But this unfortunate gentleman, notwithstanding the influence of many powerful friends, which he had in the house of commons, was refused his liberty, and detained in the tower until near the close of the war.
However, Mr. Laurens survived his persecutions in England, returned to his native country, and spent the remainder of his days in private  life. After several years of virtuous preparation for his exit, his only surviving son closed his eyes. His fond affection for his father led him to deviate from the usual customs of his countrymen, in the manner of interring their friends. He reared an altar on which he burnt the body of the patriarch, and carefully gathered the ashes from the hearth, deposited them in a silver urn, and placed them in his bed-chamber, with reverence and veneration, where they remained to the day of his death. This circumstance is mentioned as a peculiar instance of filial affection, and at once a mark of the respect due to the memory both of the patriot and the parent.
The celebrity of Mr. Burke for his general conduct, and his spirited speeches in favor of the rights of man, during the revolutionary war, were justly appreciated throughout America. He was admired for his oratorical talents, and beloved for the part he took in the cause of suffering individuals, either American prisoners or the oppressed in his own country. His feelings of humanity extended to the Ganges; and by his lively descriptions of the miseries of the wretched inhabitants of India, he has expanded the human heart, and drawn a tear from every compassionate eye. Certainly, to such a man, the tribute of a tear is equally due, when he shall be beheld in the decline of  life, deviating from his own principles, and drawing his energetic pen to censure and suppress the struggles for liberty in a sister kingdom.*
When we retrace the powers of the human mind, and view the gradations of the faculties, or the decline of genius, it is a humiliating reflection, that a more advanced period of life so often subtracts from the character of the man, as it shone in full lustre in the meridian of his days. Perhaps in the instance before us, a deviation from former principles might be more owing to a decline in correct political sentiment, than to any physical debility that was yet apparent.
It is an anticipation which many reasons render excuseable, to bring forward in this place, the subsequent declension of this gentleman’s zeal in favor of the general liberties of mankind, when his flowery epithets, argumentative elocution, and flowing periods, were often equally entertaining with the best theatrical exhibitions. But, without further apology it is proper to observe, that before he finished his political drama, the world was astonished to behold Mr. Burke, fulminating his anathemas against a neighbouring nation, who were struggling  with every nerve for the recovery of the freedom and the natural rights of man, of which they had long been robbed, and which had been trodden under foot, if not annihilated, by despotic kings, unprincipled nobles, and a corrupt clergy. It was surprising to hear a man, who had so often expressed the most humane feelings for the depression of his fellow beings of every class, afterwards regretting, in the most pathetic strains, only the sorrows of royalty, without a momentary pang for the miseries of a nation.*
If a just portrait has been drawn below, and Mr. Burke was never at heart, a genuine friend to the liberties of mankind, we will sigh over  the versatility of human conduct, and leave him to reflect on his own inconsistency; while the florid diction of his oratory is admired by his contemporaries, and the generations that succeed him will be delighted with the brilliant periods that adorned his eloquence on every occasion.
The admiration of the finished rhetoric and fascinating talents by which the speeches of Fox, Burke, and many other British orators, were embellished, has occasioned the above digression, which we now wave, and observe, that the agents who had brought on a ruinous war with the colonies, and defection, alienation, and hostility, with surrounding nations, had not sufficient talent, subtilty, or sophistry, to quiet the people of England under the ideas of a longer continuance of the war. They had long amused them by the musical powers of language,  which they also possessed; but they could no longer counteract the arguments and efforts of men of abilities, equal to any in the ministerial interest, and possessed of more humanity, who wished to put a period to the destructive calamities that had now for seven years embarrassed and distressed the nation.
The most gloomy prospect pervaded every mind on the contemplation of a further protraction of war, at the same time that the termination of the campaign in Virginia, had nearly defeated the flattering hopes of those who had labored with so much zeal and fervor, to subjugate the united colonies of America. It was said in parliament, that
the immense expense, the great accumulation of public debt, by the ever to be lamented contest with America, the effusion of human blood which it had occasioned, the diminution of trade, and the increase of taxes, were evils of such magnitude, as could scarcely be overlooked even by the most insensible and inattentive.
It was the unanimous opinion of those who had ever been favorers of more lenient measures, that any further efforts to reduce the revolted colonies to obedience by force, under the present circumstances, would only increase the mutual enmity, so fatal to the interests of Great  Britain and America, and forever prevent a reconciliation; and that it would weaken the efforts of Great Britain against the house of Bourbon, and other European enemies.
It is true, that the standard of respectability on which Great Britain had long been placed, was already shaken; that she had in a degree lost her political influence with, and was viewed by, surrounding nations through a less terrific medium, than at any period since the immense increase of power acquired by her formidable navy.
The colonies alienated, Ireland in a state of desperation, Scotland little less discontented, a considerable part of the West Indies lost to Great Britain, the affairs of the kingdom in the East Indies in the most deranged and perturbed state, by the mismanagement and avarice of their officers vested with unlimited powers wantonly abused; it was impossible, under the load of calumny, opposition, and perplexity, for the old ministry, the ostensible agents of these complicated evils, longer to resist the national will.
Many plausible arguments were urged in vindication of the measures of administration, at the same time that the fatal consequences were acknowledged by their defenders; but acknowledged only as the common events which have been  experienced by other nations, who have failed in their best concerted enterprises, and been humbled before the enemies whose destruction had too sanguinely been calculated. But the minister was implicated by the increasing opposition, as the author of all the calamities a just Providence had seen fit to inflict on a nation, who at the close of the preceding reign had considered all the world at their feet.
The parliamentary debates indeed, were at this time very interesting. Lord John Cavendish observed, that above an hundred millions sterling had been expended within five years on the army and navy, and backed his assertion by several resolves, criminating the ministry as totally deficient in point of ability, to retrieve the wretched state of the nation, after they had thrown away the thirteen colonies and other appendages of the empire. However, had their talents been sufficient to have retrieved the public misfortunes, in which their pernicious councils had involved their country, there did not appear the smallest disposition in the present ministry to make the attempt, or to resign their places.
A detail of the expenses of the fruitless war with America, was laid before the house of commons in a very impressive style; and though many arguments were used in favor of the ministry, no subterfuge could screen them, nor  any reluctance they felt, retard the necessity of their resignation. This was called for from every quarter, in terms severe and sarcastic. One gentleman requested, that
whenever the prime minister, to the unspeakable joy of the nation, should really go to his sovereign to resign his employments, as he had once promised to do when parliament should withdraw its confidence from him, he hoped now that period was come, he would not forget to lay before the king, a fair representation of the flourishing state in which he found his majesty’s empire when the government of it was entrusted to his hands, and the ruinous condition in which he was about to leave all that remained of it.
Some thought that the party in opposition were too ready to draw degrading pictures of the calamitous state of the nation, and the blunders of its officers: it was their opinion, that thus by exposing the national weakness, they might strengthen the hands of their enemies, now triumphant at the misfortunes that had already befallen them. But the irresistible force of truth, combined with imperious necessity, wrought conviction on some, and softened the obstinacy of others, by which a majority was obtained, and the late measures decidedly condemned.
The old ministry were soon after obliged to relinquish their places, and a new line of public  measures adopted. The hollow murmur of discontent at last penetrated the ear of royalty, and impelled the pride of majesty to listen to the general voice in favor of the immediate restoration of tranquillity; and however sanguine the king of England had long been, in favor of coercing his American subjects to unconstitutional and unconditional obedience, he could not much longer withstand the torrent of opposition to the cruel system.
Events were now nearly ripened, which soon produced a truce to the scourge of war, which had so long desolated families, villages, and cities. The energetic arguments and perspicuous reasonings, which do not always apply in their full force on the minds of those prepossessed by partial affection and esteem, covered with the veil of prejudice in favor of political opinions similar to their own, were necessarily laid aside, and the opposition to peace daily drawn into a narrower compass. Reason, humanity, policy, and justice, urged so forcibly by men of the best abilities, could not longer be withstood. Among these were many who shed the tears of sorrow over the ashes of their friends, who had fallen in the “tented fields” of America. In others, the feelings of indignation arose from a survey of the profuse expenditure, and the wanton waste of public money. Besides these, not a few persons were mortified at the eclipse of military glory, which had formerly emblazoned  the laurels, and illumined the characters of British chieftains.
Indeed, America at this period was not a theatre on which generous Britons could expect, or wish to acquire glory. They were sensible that their success must eradicate the noble principles of liberty, for which their ancestors had reasoned, struggled, and fought, against the invasions of their arbitrary kings, from the days of William the Norman to the Tudors, and from the last of the Tudor line, their adored queen Elizabeth, through the race of the Stuarts, no less contemptible than arbitrary, until the necessity of equal exertion was revived in the reign of George the third. At the same time, it was too evident to all, that repeated defeat had already tarnished the lustre of British arms. The celebrity of some of their most renowned commanders was shrouded in disappointment; their minds enveloped in chagrin doubly mortifying, as it was the result of exertion from enemies they had viewed with contempt, as too deficient in talents, courage, discipline, and resources, to combat the prowess and imagined superiority of British veterans. From these circumstances it had been calculated, that Americans might be reduced even by the terror of their approach, and the fame of that military glory long attached to the character and valor of British soldiers.
 But He who ordains the destiny of man, conceals his purposes till the completion of the designs of divine government. This should teach mankind the lessons of humility and candor, instead of an indulgence of that fierce, vindictive spirit, that aims at the destruction of its own species, under the imposing authority of obtrusive despotism.
C H A P T E R X X I V
Naval Transactions • Rupture between England and France opened in the Bay of Biscay • Admiral Keppel • Serapis and Countess of Scarborough captured by Paul Jones—The Protection given him by the States-General resented by the British Court • Transactions in the West Indies • Sir George Bridges Rodney returns to England after the Capture of St. Eustatia—Sent out again the succeeding Year—Engages and defeats the French Squadron under the Command of the Count de Grasse—Capture of the Ville de Paris—The Count de Grasse sent to England • Admiral Rodney created a Peer of the Realm on his Return to England
chap. xxiv To prevent breaking in upon and interrupting the thread of narration, through a detail of the important and interesting scenes acting on the American theatre,1781 many great naval operations have been passed over in silence, and others but slightly noticed. A particular description of nautical war was never designed by the writer of these pages; yet a retrospect may here be proper, and a cursory survey necessary, of some of the most capital transactions on the ocean, which were closely connected with American affairs, and the interests of her allies.
The beginning of naval hostilities between Great Britain and France, took place in the  Bay of Biscay in June, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-eight. A fleet commanded by admiral Keppel, a gentleman in whom the nation had the highest confidence, from his bravery, his prudence, and long experience in naval transactions, was at this critical period directed to sail with discretionary orders. A member of parliament of eminence observed, “that all descriptions of men seemed pleased with the choice, and to feel their own security included in the appointment” of such an able commander, at so anxious a moment. He met a squadron of thirty-two ships of the line, and a large number of frigates, commanded by the count D’Orvilliers, before he was in reality prepared for an interview with such a formidable force on the part of France: this was indeed before any formal declaration of war had taken place between the rival nations.
Two frigates from the squadron of D’Orvilliers were very soon discovered near enough to prove evidently, that they were on a survey of the British fleet. They were pursued, and a civil message delivered to the captain of the Licorne, from the English admiral; but it was not so civilly returned; some shot were exchanged, and in a short time the frigate surrendered.
 The other French frigate, called the Belle-Poule, was of heavier metal, and appearing disposed for a rencounter, captain Marshal, who commanded the Arethusa, pursued her till out of sight of the fleet. When near enough to announce his orders, he informed the captain of the Belle-Poule, that he was directed to conduct him to the British admiral. A peremptory refusal of compliance on the part of the French captain, induced captain Marshal to fire a shot across the Belle-Poule: this was returned by the discharge of a whole broadside from the Belle-Poule into the Arethusa.
A severe action ensued, which continued near two hours. Both frigates suffered much: the Arethusa was so far disabled, that she was conducted off the French coast by two British ships that accompanied the chase, and arrived in time to tow her back to the fleet: the Belle-Poule escaped only by running into a small bay on the coast of France. The resolute deportment of the French captain, in this beginning of naval hostilities between the two nations, was much applauded by his countrymen, and munificently rewarded by the king of France.
For some time after this action, a mutual display of the strength of the two fleets was kept up: chasing, re-chasing, manoeuvring, and gasconade, continued for several days, with little effective action, and no decision. During  the cruise, admiral Keppel, discovered by the officer of a frigate taken after the action of the Belle-Poule and the Arethusa, that D’Orvilliers was in daily expectation of reinforcements of strength, while there was yet no formal declaration of war, while the French admiral played off, as unwilling to begin hostilities, and while, from many circumstances, Keppel himself was in no situation for a general engagement. Thus, to the unspeakable mortification of this meritorious officer, he found it convenient to turn his back on the French squadron, and repair to England.
His own inadequate force and equipment to meet the powerful squadrons of France, which had been prepared with diligence and system for the execution of great designs, was viewed by him with the deepest regret, both for his own share in the disappointment, and the disgrace brought on his nation by such unpardonable negligence. He had however, from the discoveries he had made from the officers of the captured frigates, and the causes which had induced his immediate return, kept his opinions very much within his own breast, disposed to think candidly of men in high office, great responsibility, and some of them endowed with superior talents. He hoped, from the necessities of the moment, the honor of the nation, and the hazard of their own characters, they  would adopt and adhere to more decisive and efficient measures in future.
The motives of the admiral unknown to the people at large, occasioned much censure from the lips of those who were unacquainted with the circumstances. The superiority of the French fleet under D’Orvilliers, and the additional strength he expected from several other armaments prepared to join him, rendered it impossible for admiral Keppel, with only twenty ships of the line, to make any effectual resistance, if a declaration of war should warrant an attack from the French commander, who had a fleet of between thirty and forty sail of the line, besides a great number of frigates, ready for action.
Admiral Keppel very judiciously apprehended, that the most cautious and prudent steps were necessary, not only to prevent the loss of his own fleet, but other inseparable evils to his nation, which might have been the consequence of defeat. He had certain information of the meditated designs of France, unexpectedly to strike at the trade of the nation, by interrupting their convoys, and giving a wound to the honor of the English navy, which would redound much to their own advantage in the outset of a war; while his own fleet, deficient in almost every thing necessary for any effectual  resistance, was incapable of maintaining its station.
Conscious that his conduct needed no apology, that the failure of the hopes of the English was owing to the neglect or want of judgment in the ministry, the admiralty, and other departments, he silently bore the censure of his enemies, the clamors of the multitude, and the opprobrium that often lights on character from the tacit demeanor of false friends, and prepared with the utmost dispatch again to sail, and meet the commander of the French squadron.
New exertions were made by the directors of naval affairs; and within a few days, the brave admiral was enabled again to sail with better prospects of success, in pursuit of the Brest fleet, which was also reinforced by some of the heaviest ships and most distinguished commanders in the French service. The two fleets met, manoeuvred, fought, retreated, chased, bid mutual defiance, and fought again; but neither of them had a right to claim the palm of victory, from any circumstances of the interview.
The failure of this second expedition might have been owing, in part, to a misunderstanding between admiral Keppel and some of his principal officers. Other causes might co-operate. There is a delicacy of feeling in the  mind of man, or rather a moral sense, that forbids aggression, and excites a reluctance to striking the first blow, that must involve the human species in carnage and murder. But, when war has been denounced by regal authority, and the usual sanction of public proclamation, licensed by the common formalities of such occasions, and hardened by repeated irritation and violence, the crash of burning or sinking ships, swallowed in the yawning deep, ceases to excite due compassion in the sanguine bosom, inured to behold the miseries of his fellow-men.
This disappointment in the beginning of a war with France, occasioned much party bitterness through the English nation. The odium of ill success was bandied for some time between the partisans of sir Hugh Palliser, rear admiral of the blue, and those of the brave Keppel. Both admirals were tried by court-martial; and after long investigation, the business finally terminated in the honorable acquittal of admiral Keppel, from the charge of negligence, want of ability, or misconduct in any respect;* and his reputation completely restored, his calm dignity and cool deportment,  through many trying circumstances, more strongly attached his old friends, and procured him many new ones. He was afterwards appointed first lord of the admiralty. He received the thanks of both houses of parliament for his many and essential services to his country. Public rejoicings on his acquittal testified the general esteem of the people, while the ratio of disgrace that fell on admiral Palliser, led him to resign all his public employments.
There had, previous to the late engagement, been the appearance of the strictest friendship between admiral Keppel and sir Hugh Palliser, rear admiral of the blue. It is uncertain what interrupted this amity: it might have arisen from a spirit of rivalry, or the pride of a subordinate officer, who persecuted the aged commander with unceasing bitterness, and divided the opinion of the public for a time, relative to the appropriate merits of each; but the balance continued in favor of lord Keppel to the end of his life.
A naval rencounter took place the next year, which, though of less magnitude than many others, is worthy of notice, from the valor of the transaction, and some circumstances that attended it which were interwoven with the political conduct of the Dutch nation.
 Captain John Paul Jones had sailed from L’Orient in the summer of one thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine, in order to cruise in the North Sea. The Bon-homme Richard, which he commanded, was accompanied by the Alliance, a well built American ship, and two or three other smaller frigates.
About the beginning of September, they fell in with the Serapis, an English ship of superior force, commanded by captain Pierson; she was accompanied by a smaller ship, the countess of Scarborough. They soon engaged: the action was valorous and desperate, severe and bloody; and taken in all its circumstances, perhaps one of the bravest marine battles that took place during the war. Both the English ships were taken by the Americans. The Bon-homme Richard and the Serapis were several times on fire, at the same moment. The Bon-homme Richard was reduced to a wreck, and sunk soon after the action, which continued long enough for the Baltic fleet of British homeward-bound ships, which had been under the convoy of the Serapis and countess of Scarborough, to make their escape, and get safe to England. After this tremendous blaze of horror and destruction, the little American squadron repaired to the Texel to refit, carrying with them their prisoners and their prizes.
 Captain Pierson acquitted himself with the gallantry of a British commander, zealous for the honor of his nation: but he was not permitted by the American officers to go on shore in Holland, and pay his respects to sir Joseph Yorke, the British ambassador resident at the Hague. This he reported in the close of his account of the engagement, received at the admiralty office. It was circumstance grievous to himself, and highly resented by the British ambassador. He demanded of the states-general, that the Alliance and the other ships commanded by the rebel and pirate, John Paul Jones, should with their crews be stopped and delivered up.
Their high mightinesses replied to the demand of sir Joseph Yorke, that they should not take upon themselves to judge of the legality or illegality of those who had taken vessels on the open seas, belonging to other countries: that their ports were open to shelter from storms and disasters: that they should not suffer the Americans to unlade their cargoes, but should permit them to go to sea again after refitting; without taking upon themselves to judge, as they did not think they were authorized to pass an opinion on the prizes, or the person of Paul Jones.
 The naval rencounters between the nations were too numerous to particularise. Those who are acquainted with maritime affairs, the phrases of navigation, and are fond of the exhibition of sea-fights, may dwell longer on the description of single actions; while the curiosity of every inquirer may be sufficiently gratified, by the proud boasters who insolently describe the British flag as controlling the nations, and defying the universe to attack their fleets.
We shall pass over the more minute transactions, and again recur to the general expectation relating to the siege of Gibraltar, which was long kept awake before a final decision. It is however necessary, previous to the relinquishment of the conquest of that contested spot, to observe on several intervening transactions of moment. It has been related in a former chapter, that this fortress was relieved for a time by sir George Bridges Rodney, on his way to the West Indies, in one thousand seven hundred and eighty.
He had been remarkably successful in the interception of convoys, the interruption of the trade of the enemies of Britain, and the capture of the homeward-bound ships of France and Spain. He fell in with fifteen sail of merchantmen, under the convoy of a sixty-four gun ship and several frigates, bound from St. Sebastian’s to Cadiz. He captured the whole fleet,  which belonged to the royal company of the Caraccas. The principal part of their cargoes was wheat and other provisions much wanted at Gibraltar, where the admiral immediately sent them. A large quantity of bale goods and naval stores, equally necessary for the use of his countrymen, he sent forward to England.
He soon after fell in with a Spanish squadron of eleven ships of the line, under the command of don Juan Langara, who declined an engagement, from the inequality of his force. But admiral Rodney, determined to pursue his success, gave chase until the enemy were nearly involved among the shoals of St. Lucar; and night approaching, the brave Spaniard was compelled to the conflict. Early in the engagement, the Spanish ship San Domingo, of seventy guns and six hundred men, blew up, and all on board perished. The English man of war with which she was engaged, narrowly escaped a similar fate.
The action was severe, and conducted on both sides with the greatest intrepidity, until the Spanish admiral was dangerously wounded, and most of his ships had surrendered; he then struck his flag, surrendered his own ship, reduced to a wreck, and submitted to the valiant English. This action continued nearly through the night; and many singular instances of valor and generosity were displayed on both sides,  before the palm of victory was insured to the gallant Rodney.
His good fortune followed him to the tropical seas; and his rencounters with the admiral de Guichen, and other brave commanders of the Bourbon fleets, always terminated in his favor. Indeed, his successes were sometimes a little variant, and his squadron frequently suffered much loss and damage, in his severe conflicts with French and Spanish fleets; yet he was always victorious. On his way to the West Indies, nothing stood before him: many of the enemies of Great Britain, both in the commercial and military line, fell into his hands.
A plan had been meditated by the combined fleets of France and Spain, to seize the rich island of Jamaica: the interference of Rodney more than once prevented the loss of this valuable spot. This was a favorite object with the French; nor was it relinquished, until fortune had frowned repeatedly on the lillies of France, and humbled the Gallican flag beneath her victorious rival, who waved her proud banners around her insular possessions, to the terror of France and the mortification of America.
From the capture of Dominica by the marquis de Bouille, in one thousand seven hundred  and seventy-eight, the West India islands had been alternately agitated by the various successes of contending fleets, until the seizure of St. Eustatia by sir George Bridges Rodney, in February, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one.
In the autumn of one thousand seven hundred and eighty, tempest, hurricane, and earthquake, had raged through all the islands, in a degree unparalleled in those latitudes, though always subject to the most violent tornadoes. Several of the best of the islands had been nearly ruined by those recent devastations of nature, and others rendered too weak for defence against less potent foes than those who waved the flag of Britain.
The winter after the accumulated misfortunes occasioned by those convulsions, admiral Rodney arrived in the West Indies with a strong and potent fleet and army. The army was commanded by general Vaughan. Rodney and Vaughan in conjunction, took advantage of the weak, dismantled state to which St. Vincent’s was reduced, and attempted the reduction of the island. But unexpectedly repulsed by the bravery of the French, commanded by the marquis de Bouille, the next enterprise of sir George Bridges Rodney was against the rich, but defenceless island of St. Eustatia.
 This unexpected attack on the Dutch island, was in consequence of secret orders, received before they left England, from the board of admiralty. The arrival of the British armament in the West Indies was accompanied by intelligence, not suspected by the islanders, that hostilities were denounced against the republic of Holland by a manifesto of the king of England.
The United Netherlands had not yet ratified any formal treaty with the American states, though, as has been observed, a plan for that purpose had been found among the papers of Mr. Laurens. It is true, the design of a close connexion with congress and the colonies was avowed by the principal citizens of Amsterdam: it also appeared from strong circumstances, that many of the most respectable inhabitants in other parts of the Batavian circles, were equally disposed to unite with the Americans: but it was some time after this period, before the independence of the United States of America was acknowledged by the stadtholder and their high mightinesses at the Hague.
Yet the assistance given by the merchants of some of the capital provinces, their negociations with the agents of congress, and their temporising with regard to receiving a minister, sent on after the misfortune of Mr. Laurens, to complete the terms of amity and commerce with the rebellious subjects of America, as they  were termed, were steps too bold and affrontive to the sovereign of Britain, and to the English nation, then the ancient ally of the Batavians, to be passed over with impunity.
The Dutch court, as observed, did not openly countenance these proceedings; yet, we have seen above, that when repeatedly called upon by sir Joseph Yorke, in the name of his sovereign, publicly to disavow them, and to punish by inhibitions, penalties, and other severities, all who held any correspondence with congress, or encouraged and supported the revolted colonies; yet no explicit declaration for that purpose could be obtained. Vexed at the equivocal conduct of the states-general, and there being no prospect of the minister’s succeeding to his wishes, he was recalled from the Hague, and reasons were soon after assigned by manifesto, for the commencement of hostilities against the Batavian provinces, in the usual style of regal apology for the waste of human life.
Thus the storm burst upon the Dutch West India islands, before they were apprehensive of the smallest danger from a state of war. St. Eustatia had long been considered, both by Europeans and Americans, as the most advantageous mart of any of the tropical islands: consequently, their trade and their wealth had increased beyond all calculation. The inhabitants were generally absorbed in their own private  business, the bulk of the merchants affluent and secure, the magistrates at ease, and the Dutch officers totally unapprehensive of an attack from any foreign foe. The fortresses in a state of ruin, and the island weakened by the late hurricanes, they were in no condition for defence, nor did they attempt the smallest resistance, on the approach of a powerful British fleet and army.
The surprise and astonishment of both the governor and the people, on the summons to surrender themselves and their island, cannot be described. Their deliberations were short: Mr. de Graaf, the Dutch governor, with the consent of the magistrates and the principal inhabitants, returned a laconic answer to the summons of the British commander. He concisely observed,
that confident of the lenity of sir George Bridges Rodney and general Vaughan, the whole island and its dependencies surrendered: firmly relying on their honor and humanity, they only recommended the town and the inhabitants to their mercy.
This submission proved the consignment of themselves and families to immediate poverty, desolation, and every species of misery: all descriptions of persons were at once involved in the same common ruin. Not only the officers of government, and the independent sojourner in this devoted island, but the merchant, the  factor, the planter, and the innocent individual of every class, whether Dutch or British, Americans or Jews, were all overwhelmed in one promiscuous, unexampled insult, outrage, and plunder. Slaves were bribed to betray their masters, and inveigled to discover the smallest pittance of property, that might have been secreted by the opulent or the aged, to preserve a wretched existence after the loss of connexions, fortune, and prospects.
When obstinate resistance and high-toned language irritates the passions of men, it may be thought by some an apology, for the extreme rigor too frequently exercised by the illiberal mind, toward a conquered enemy. But when full confidence has been placed in the generosity, urbanity, and equity of the victor, and submission made without a blow, the cruel inflictions imposed on the unfortunate by the successful assailant, are violations of the feelings of humanity, and a departure from the nobler principles of the soul, that can never be justified by the laws of policy, or even the hostile usages of war. Nor can the dignity of rank, or the glittering badges of ancestral honor, prevent the indignation that must ever arise in the bosom of humanity, on a survey of the rapacity, insolence, and atrocity of conduct in the conquerors of St. Eustatia.
 Submission undoubtedly entitles to protection, and the vanquished have ever a claim, both for compassion and support, from the victor. Instead of this just and generous line of action, all safety was precluded, by indiscriminate abuse and plunder. After the surrender of this opulent island, one general pillage, confiscation, banishment, or death, succeeded; and, as observed afterwards by Mr. Burke in the house of commons, “the Dutch were robbed and banished, because they were Dutch; the Americans, because they were the king’s enemies; the Jews, because their religion was different from that of the conquerors.”
Some gentlemen of the most capital commercial characters, were confined as criminals of a peculiar cast, and punished in a two-fold sense. An extraordinary instance of this nature was exhibited in the treatment of Messrs. Courzen and Governier, two of the first merchants on the island: as Dutchmen, their property was confiscated; as Englishmen, they were sent to England as traitors to the king, charged with corresponding with American agents, imprisoned and tried for high treason.
Mr. Hohen, an eminent Jewish merchant, a native of Amsterdam, who had resided at St. Eustatia twenty-five years, received notice, without any crime alleged, that he must quit  the island without a day’s delay. Ignorant of the place of his destination, while on his way to embark, he experienced very severe usage; his trunk was rifled, his clothes ripped open, and a small sum of money he had secreted to preserve him from famine, taken from him, even to his last penny. Thus, suddenly robbed, and reduced from high fortune to absolute want, when he arrived in England he petitioned the house of commons for redress, and his cause was supported by the brilliant elocution of Mr. Burke and others; yet the injured Israelite found no relief from the justice or compassion of the nation.
Such was the rapacity of the plunderers of this unfortunate island, that in many other instances, the garments of the aged and respectable were rent open in search of a bit of gold, that might possibly have been concealed for the purchase of a morsel of bread for their innocent and helpless families. Thus, from the pinnacle of affluence, many were reduced in a day to the extreme of penury and despair. All the Jews on the island received similar treatment to that above related: their sufferings had no amelioration: they were informed, that they were all to be transported, and only one day was allowed to any of them for preparation, before they were robbed of their treasures, and sent away pennyless among strangers.
 Indeed, there was little discrimination among the miserable inhabitants of this once wealthy spot. The whole property of the island, collected by every undue method, was exposed to public sale: and admiral Rodney, the commander of a British fleet of upwards of thirty ships of the line, and the renowned general Vaughan, at the head of three or four thousand troops, were engaged from the beginning of February until the May following, in the little arts of auctioneering and traffic, in a manner that would have disgraced the petty merchant, who had not renounced all pretences to honor.
The islands of Saba, St. Martin’s, and others, had surrendered to some detachments from the British fleet and army, on the same easy terms; and, with similar hopes of security and protection, they suffered nearly the same merciless fate from the hands of British conquerors, that had been recently experienced by the inhabitants of St. Eustatia.
Meantime, the marquis de Bouille improved the favorable opportunity, while the British commanders were engaged in securing the plunder of the conquered isles, to reduce Tobago to the arms of the French monarch. This required a little more military prowess than had yet been called into action, by his competitors for the possession of the West India islands.
 Governor Ferguson, who commanded at Tobago, made a manly defence for eight or ten days; but receiving no succors from admiral Rodney, though within twenty-four hours’ sail, and too weak to hold out longer without assistance, he was obliged to capitulate.
The terms granted by the noble Frenchman were honorable and lenient. The officers and troops in garrison were permitted to march out with the honors of war; after which, the soldiers were to lay down their arms, but the officers had liberty to retain their’s. The inhabitants were allowed to preserve their own civil government, laws, and customs; to enjoy their estates, rights, privileges, honors, and exemptions, with a promise of protection in the free exercise of their religion, until peace should take place. No other engagement was required on their part, than an oath of fidelity to the king of France, to observe a strict neutrality until that happy event should be accomplished. They were left at full liberty to dispose of their property at leisure, and to proceed in their commercial affairs as usual; with this farther indulgence, that no merchant ships, the property of the inhabitants of the island or its dependencies, that might arrive from England within six months, should be liable to confiscation or seizure.
 It is observable, that the distinguished traits of generosity in the demeanor of the marquis de Bouille, were not forgotten by those who witnessed and experienced his clemency. Some time after the transactions above related, a large number of gentlemen in England, belonging to the several islands, met and unanimously passed a vote, expressive of their high sense of gratitude for his humanity, justice, and generosity, exemplified and displayed in his treatment of the conquered isles: and as a testimony of their veneration and esteem, they ordered a piece of plate, with an inscription of their thanks, to be presented him by sir William Young, chairman of the committee. *
After this short narration of the capture of the island of Tobago, and the moderation shewn to the inhabitants by the victor, a further detail is not necessary, to contrast the behavior of the British and French commanders in the West Indies, at this period of the war.
Many particulars through the busy scene kept up in the tropical seas, through this and the succeeding year, need not here be related; though it is proper to observe, that it was but a few months after the surrender of these islands, and the sufferings they experienced from the  severity of the British conquerors, before St. Martin’s, Saba, and St. Eustatia, were surprised and recovered by the marquis de Bouille.
It may be anticipating time, yet, to prevent the interruption of the story of other events, it will not be deemed improper to continue the narration of the insular war, that raged with unabating fury in the West Indies through the succeeding year.
From the arrival of the count de Grasse in these seas, with his brave, victorious fleet from the Chesapeake, at the close of the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one, not the smallest mitigation of the horrors of war took place, until after the defeat of the squadron commanded by him, an event which did not happen until the twelfth of April, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two.
Soon after the entire ruin of the inhabitants of St. Eustatia, sir George B. Rodney had returned to England with his disgraceful booty, the indiscriminate spoils of the aged, the innocent, and the affluent. He was graciously received by his majesty and the ministry: but, his laurels stained by his avarice and cruelty, it was impossible, either by address, deception, or effrontery, to parry the severe reprehensions he received from some of the first nobility in the house of lords, as well as from many members  of distinction and talent in the house of commons. A particular inquiry into his conduct, and that of general Vaughan, was urged in the most strenuous and pathetic manner, but with little effect. Notwithstanding the general sense of mankind criminated the inhumanity of their proceedings, yet the favoritism that generally prevails in courts overruled, as usual, the dictates of justice, and all investigation was postponed.
Admiral Rodney was again immediately sent out in full force, with design to prevent the valuable island of Jamaica from falling under the arms of France. Indeed, the apprehensions of the ministry on this point were sufficiently grounded. Barbadoes, Antigua, and Jamaica, were all the possessions of consequence that the English still retained in the West Indies; the others, as observed, had most of them been recaptured by the French; who were pursuing victory with vigilance and success, and in sanguine expectations of wresting all the wealthy islands from the crown of Britain.
When sir George Bridges Rodney returned to the command in that quarter, where he arrived about the middle of February, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, he found the French inspirited by repeated successes, ready for any enterprise, and a formidable fleet in the highest preparation for attack or defence.
 Jamaica was indeed the prime object of expectation, but the first important step taken by the count de Grasse, after his arrival in the West Indies, was the capture of the little island of Nevis, where he lost no time, but immediately hastened on and set down before St. Christopher’s. There he found a large armament had been landed some days before his arrival, by the brave marquis de Bouille.
Sir Samuel Hood, with twenty sail of the British line, attempted the relief of that island: this brought on several rencounters between him and the count de Grasse, with various success, but with little decision.
St. Christopher’s had been vigorously defended five weeks by general Frazer, a brave British officer: he acquired much honor by his gallant behavior through the whole siege. Shirley, governor of Antigua, brought forward three or four hundred militia, and fought, hazarded, and suffered, equally with his friend general Frazer, until necessity compelled them at last to yield. The island was surrendered by capitulation to the crown of France, on the twelfth of February, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two.
 The same lenient and generous terms were admitted by the conqueror, as had before been granted by him to the inhabitants of Tobago, Demerara, Essequibo, and several other places of less consequence than St. Christopher’s or St. Eustatia, who had repeatedly, as well as those, changed their masters in the struggle, and were now again the subjects of France. But the inhabitants of St. Christopher’s, by the moderate terms of capitulation, were scarcely sensible of a change of sovereignty. The garrison was permitted the honors of war in the strictest sense; the troops were transported to England, until an exchange of prisoners should take place.
By a particular article, the marquis de Bouille, as an acknowledgment of their intrepidity and valor, discharged brigadier general Frazer and governor Shirley, who had aided in the defence of the island, from the condition of being considered as prisoners of war. To Mr. Shirley he gave liberty to return to his government in Antigua, and to general Frazer the permission of continuing in the service of his country, in whatever place he chose.
The generosity of the marquis merited and received a large share of applause, both from friends and foes; and the name of Bouille was every where respected, for his equitable, humane, and honorable deportment, toward all  the captured islands that fell into his hands. But, notwithstanding the valor, the virtue, the magnanimity, and the repeated successes of the marquis de Bouille, over the best and bravest troops and officers that had been employed in any part of the world; notwithstanding the fame and the valor of the count de Grasse, and the strength of the French navy; fortune soon changed her face, frowned on the flag of France, caused her lillies again to droop beneath the showers of fire poured upon them by the hand of the intrepid Rodney, and, as usual, placed her laurels on his brow.
On his second arrival in the West Indies, where the Bourbon flag had waved for some months under the most favorable aspect, he found both his reinforcements and his vigilance necessary, to impede the blow meditated against Jamaica. A powerful Spanish fleet had arrived at Hispaniola, also a large number of land forces, amply supplied with every thing necessary, to join the count de Grasse in the designed expedition: besides these, there was a body of troops at Cuba for the same purpose.
Though the island of Jamaica still belonged to the British crown, it was in no respect prepared for an invasion. The island was naturally strong and defensible, but there were few troops in garrison, and the inhabitants, more  attentive to their wealth and pleasure, than tenaciously attached to a foreign sovereign of their island, security was their object, under whatever authority they held their immense estates; and conquest would have been easy to any power that should guarantee the enjoyment of fortune, luxury, and idleness.
When admiral Rodney arrived they had little to fear. He was joined by the squadron under the command of sir Samuel Hood, and another commanded by admiral Drake. Thus the British flag among the islands appeared in a capacity to challenge, not only the naval forces of France, but all the maritime powers of Europe.
Sir George B. Rodney very early and very judiciously endeavoured, by various manoeuvres, to draw the French admiral into immediate action. This the count de Grasse was equally industrious to avoid: he was aware that it might defeat the important objects before him, and prevent the capture of the most valuable of the British possessions, yet remaining under their jurisdiction. But however reluctant, he was, much against his wishes, obliged first to come to a partial, and within a few days, to a general engagement. This ruined the expectations, the enterprise, and the hopes of the house of Bourbon in this quarter, saved Jamaica  from its impending fate, and destroyed a considerable part of the French fleet.
The conflict was long, severe, and bloody indeed. The count de Grasse, the marquis Vaudreuil, the renowned Bougainville, and many other characters among the Gallic commanders, had never before experienced the mortification of defeat. They fought with the impulse of the brave soldier, the enthusiasm of chivalry, the pride of nobility, and the dignity of the hero, confident of success.
The order of their line was however broken by the experienced and indefatigable Englishmen, and several of the best of the French ships were either captured, sunk, or blown up. This decisive action began early in the morning, and lasted until the evening: the carnage on this occasion, on both sides, was sufficient to shock the boldest heart. The surrender of the admiral’s own ship, the Ville de Paris, of one hundred and ten guns, completed the triumph of the day. Before the count de Grasse struck his colors, he had four hundred men slain, and scarcely any one left on deck without a wound. This ship, aimed at as the point of victory by all the British whose thunder could reach her, was reduced to a wreck, and on the point of sinking, when the admiral surrendered to sir Samuel Hood at the close of the day of action.
 The commanders of the other ships in the French navy conducted with equal gallantry, and suffered in equal proportion, with the Ville de Paris. The captains of the Centaur, the Glorieux, and the Caesar, did themselves immortal honor in the eye of military glory. They kept their stations until most of their men were killed or wounded, their canvas shot away, and their ships reduced to splinters, before they submitted: and the lives of many valiant seamen, with some of their bravest officers, was the price of victory to their enemies.
On the other side, the loss of many valiant men and distinguished officers, spread a temporary gloom over the face of success. Among the number of gallant Englishmen who fell on this awful day of carnage, no one was more lamented than the commander of the Resolution, lord Robert Manners, the only son of the marquis of Granby, whose gallant and noble military exploits have perpetuated his fame; nor did his son fall short of his merit, or in any respect disgrace the memory of his heroic father.
After the surrender of the count de Grasse, which terminated the action, he was received on board a British ship with the highest marks of respect, and uniformly treated with every attention due to his distinguished character. The commanders Bougainville and Vaudreuil conducted  the remainder of the fleet which escaped capture or sinking, to Cape Francois; and admiral Rodney, with his wounded ships and numerous prizes, repaired to Jamaica to refit, and to secure that island from any further danger of attack, either from France or Spain.
The count de Grasse was immediately conveyed to England in the Sandwich, of ninety guns, commanded by sir Peter Parker, who had the honor of delivering this noble prisoner on the shores which had long dreaded his prowess.
The reception of the unfortunate French commander at the court of Great Britain, by his majesty, by the royal family, and by all ranks, was in the highest degree respectful. His own sword, which, according to form, had been delivered to sir George Bridges Rodney, was returned to his hand by the king himself. Apartments were provided for him in the royal hotel; and during his short residence in England, nothing was neglected that could in any degree ameliorate the mortification of a mind inured to victory, and amidst expectations of conquest reduced to a state of captivity.
All that a most sumptuous elegance and hospitality could invent was displayed, to express the general esteem of the first characters in the nation, and the high sense entertained by every class of people, of the magnanimity, merits,  and misfortunes, of the brave and noble commanders of the French navy. He indeed needed consolations superior to the efforts of politeness and humanity: he was sensible that his court was disgusted, and his nation chagrined beyond description, at the disappointment of their projects, the loss of the Ville de Paris, and the destruction of other capital ships. The wound given to national pride appeared in the countenance of every Frenchman, on this unexpected degradation of the Bourbon flag. “The Ville de Paris in the Thames,” was mentioned with a shrug of contempt by every one; and a subscription was set on foot among the Parisians, for another ship of the same name, size, and weight of metal, to be immediately built.
Public opinion had its usual operation on military character, which seldom escapes untarnished when not accompanied by success. Thus, while the count de Grasse was oppressed by public considerations, and the odium mankind are prone to attach to misfortune, his feelings were hurt by the personal sufferings of himself and his family, and the imagined depreciation of fame; and in addition to the fear of a sinking reputation, the death of a favorite son completed the climax of his afflictions.
This amiable and promising young gentleman, unable to bear the reverse of fortune, the reproaches, however unjust, which he feared  might fall upon his father, and the incalculable consequences to his family that might take place in a despotic court, from the present misfortune,—put a period to his own existence by a pistol ball, soon after the tidings of his father’s defeat.*
Thus merit languished in captivity, assailed by private sorrows, apprehensive of public censure, and uncertain of the duration of his confinement, or the grade of punishment that might be inflicted by his king: he very well knew, that in an arbitrary court, death or the Bastile might cover his head forever, for the failure of achievements impracticable by the valor of man. Meanwhile, the rival of his glory, or rather the conqueror of the noble count, might justly be deemed one of the favorite sons of fortune.
Sir George B. Rodney was undoubtedly a brave officer, and his repeated successes in the West Indies greatly augmented his military fame; but for his cruelty and his avarice the preceding year, he was justly and severely censured  by every virtuous man in the nation. His accumulation of property in the plunder of the Dutch and French islands, was thought abundantly sufficient to have satisfied the grasping hand of avarice, without the extreme of rapacity exercised toward every individual of the conquered plantations.
Though in the midst of inquiry into his conduct he had again been sent out on the most honorable command, his cruelty on the capture of St. Eustatia was not forgotten in his absence. His injustice toward Messrs. Hohen, Courzen, Governier, and others, was brought forward and criminated in the most pointed language. A scrutiny was again called for in the house of commons; his reputation impeached; and a supersedure of his command directed.
But at the critical moment when his destruction was ripening, the news of his splendid and decided victory over so respectable a part of the French navy, hushed at once the voice of clamor, and even of justice. The suffering islanders were forgotten in the exultation of national glory; his friends were emboldened, his enemies silenced, his interest re-established; and instead of a rigid censure for former transactions, he received the thanks of parliament for his services. This was accompanied by the acclamations of the people, and the applause of the nation, for his victory over their hereditary  enemies; a victory that secured to Great Britain her insular possessions, checked the pride of the house of Bourbon, and was felt with no small degree of mortification by the American states. The smiles of the court and favor of the king lifted him to rank, and on his return, he was by his sovereign created a peer of the realm of England. To this dignity was added a pension of two thousand pounds sterling per annum, during his own life, and the lives of the two next successors to the title of lord Rodney.
The maritime spirit of Britain has always been encouraged and kept up by the munificent rewards of royal bounty, to all who signalize themselves by their naval prowess. This encourages the nobility to place their sons in the navy at an early period of life, as the road to preferment. The service was always deemed honorable; and the interests and the feelings of the first families in the nation, were engaged to support the respectability of marine employ. This, with many other combining circumstances, has contributed to the strength, glory, and terror of the British navy, and raised it to a pitch of elevation and fame, scarcely paralleled in any nation, either ancient or modern.
But the time may arrive, when the haughty superiority of her fleets may be checked, and their power and aggressions be restrained, by a  combination formed on principles of justice and humanity, among all the nations that Britain has insulted and invaded, under the domination of her proud flag. She may feel an irresistible opposition; an opposition that may redound to the advantage of commerce, the peace of mankind, and the prevention of that wanton waste of human life, that has cemented her strength, and at once rendered Great Britain respected and dreaded, envied, and perhaps in a degree, hated, by all the nations; who were sometimes ready to apprehend, that the axiom formed in Greece about three thousand years ago, that—The nation that is master at sea will become master on the continent—might be realized in modern Europe.
C H A P T E R X X V
Continuation of Naval Rencounters • Affair of Count Byland—Sir Hyde Parker and Admiral Zeutman • Commodore Johnstone ordered to the Cape of Good Hope • Admiral Kempenfelt • Loss of the Royal George • Baron de Rullincort’s Expedition to the Isle of Jersey • Capture of Minorca • Gibraltar again besieged, defended, and relieved • Mr. Adams’s Negociation with the Dutch Provinces
chap. xxv While the active and interesting scenes in the West Indies, related in the preceding pages, commanded the attention of America,1781 and deranged the systems of France, other objects of importance, by sea as well as by land, equally occupied the arms, the industry, and the energies of the European powers, and equally affected the great cause of freedom, and the entire independence of the United States. The French navy had indeed suffered much in the West Indies, and the Batavians there were nearly ruined by the unexpected operations of war; yet the Dutch flag still waved with honor over the ocean, and in several instances maintained the courage, the character, and the glory, won by their Van Trumps, de Ruyters, and other naval heroes distinguished in their history.
 They had been called out to try their strength on the ocean, by the open hostilities of Britain in consequence of a declaration by the king, which relieved them from a state of suspense. This declaration, dated April the seventeenth, one thousand seven hundred and eighty, annihilated all former treaties of neutrality, friendship, or connexion, and suspended all stipulations respecting the freedom of navigation and commerce in time of war, with the subjects of the states-general.
A few weeks previous to the date of this declaration of war, the government of Great Britain had exercised its assumed right of searching the vessels of all nations for contraband goods. This presumptuous right they had for many years arrogated to themselves, though no other nation had acceded to the claim; yet it had been submitted to, from want of power sufficient for an effectual opposition, while all considered it an infringement of the free trade of nations, that could not be justified by the laws of equity.
A number of Dutch merchantmen, laden with timber and naval stores for the use of France, had taken the advantage of sailing under the protection of count Byland, who, with a small fleet of men of war and frigates, was to escort a convoy to the Mediterranean. In consequence of this intelligence, the English government  sent out a squadron of armed ships under the command of captain Fielding, in pursuit of them, with a commission to search, seize, and make prizes of any of the Dutch ships, that might have on board articles deemed contraband goods, according to the construction of the British laws of trade.
The Dutch refused to submit to the humiliating orders; notwithstanding which, Fielding dispatched a number of boats to execute the business. These were fired upon by the Dutchmen; on which captain Fielding fired a shot across the head of the Dutch admiral’s ship, who returned a broadside. This salute was answered in a manner that might have been expected from a British naval commander, and several shot were exchanged; but count Byland, though sensible that he was in force sufficient for a severe action that might ensue, from the humane idea of saving the lives of his men, thought proper to strike his colors and surrender to the English.*
In the meantime, most of the convoy, under cover of the night, made their escape into some of the ports of France: the remainder were detained; and the Dutch admiral informed, that he was at liberty to hoist his colors and pursue  his voyage. He refused to leave any part of his convoy, but hoisted his colors and sailed with them to Spithead, where he continued until he received fresh instructions from his masters.
This affair enkindled much resentment in the bosoms of the Hollanders, who considered an attempt to search their ships as an act of unwarrantable insolence. This, with many other concurring circumstances which then existed, had ripened their minds for the open rupture which soon after took place between the English and Dutch governments.
Many feats of maritime bravery were exhibited on the ocean, during the existing war between the two nations. The most signal event of the kind in the European seas the same year, was an action which took place between admiral Zeutman, commander of the Dutch fleet, and sir Hyde Parker, who commanded a British squadron of superior force. They met near a place called the Dogger-Bank, as admiral Parker was returning from Elsineur with a large convoy. An engagement immediately took place: equal valor and prowess animated the officers on each side, and equal fury and bravery stimulated the sailors: an action bloody indeed, was kept up for three or four hours, but without either allowing the honor of victory to his antagonist.
 After a short pause, within a little distance from each other, they withdrew to their native shores. Admiral Zeutman was honored, caressed, promoted, and happy in the applauses of his countrymen; while admiral Parker returned chagrined and disgusted: he indeed received the approbation, and was honored with a visit from the king, and an invitation to dine with him on board the royal yacht; but he refused the honor of knighthood his majesty was about to confer on him, complained heavily that he had not been properly supported, and attributed the escape of any part of the Dutch fleet to the negligence of the admiralty.
Notwithstanding the renown of the British navy, the nation had little to boast from the termination of several marine adventures, through the course of the present year. Their fleets had fallen under some disappointments and disasters, which heightened the clamor against the admiralty officers, and increased the discontent of the nation.
Commodore Johnstone, with an handsome squadron, had been ordered to sail for, and take possession of, the Cape of Good Hope. Had he succeeded, his next enterprise was designed to surprise Buenos Ayres, and sweep the Spanish settlements on Rio de la Plata, in South America.  But he was attacked by monsieur de Suffrein, who intercepted him near the Cape de Verd islands. Johnstone was found rather in an unguarded situation; a considerable number of the officers and men were on shore at the island of St. Jago in pursuit of health and pleasure, and many of the crews of all the ships were absent, employed either in hunting, fishing, or plundering cattle from the islands.
Signals for repairing on board were made, and an action immediately ensured, but it did not redound to the honor of the British commander. After suffering much in the engagement, and his original design totally defeated, he returned homewards, with the small reparation of his ill fortune by the capture of a few Dutch East India ships, which were at anchor in the Bay of Soldana.
The brave admiral Kempenfelt was not much more fortunate in an interview with the French fleet, which he met with in the winter, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one. This squadron, commanded by monsieur Guichen, was unexpectedly to him, so much superior to his own, that admiral Kempenfelt did not think it prudent to engage. He however captured a number of transports laden with all the implements of war, and upwards of one thousand French soldiers and sailors, designed for the West Indies.
 Success so inadequate to expectation, was the occasion of much uneasiness and censure in the nation. The first lord of the admiralty was charged with negligence and incapacity, in conducting the maritime affairs of England. The magnitude of the object, and the strength of the combined foes of Great Britain, required the first abilities, penetration, and industry; neither of which adorned the character of lord Sandwich, the first minister in the naval department. But the great admiral Kempenfelt lived but a short space after his late disappointment, either to reap the applauses, or to fear the censures, that arose from the fortuitous or natural events of time.
His ship, the Royal George of one hundred and eight guns, required a slight repair, before he proceeded as was designed, to join the fleet before Gibraltar. For this purpose, the ship a little on the careen, the weather fine, and no danger to be apprehended, a great crowd of persons of both sexes were on board, to visit and take leave of their husbands, brothers, and friends, when a sudden, small gust of wind struck the ship, and carried her instantly down.
In this unfortunate moment, perished near one thousand persons; among whom was the respected admiral himself, who had scarcely  time to rise from his writing desk after the alarm, before he met his watery grave. *
A few of the guards, and most of the men who happened to be on the upper deck, were picked up by boats, and saved from sharing the melancholy catastrophe of their associates.
No man could have been more justly and universally lamented than admiral Kempenfelt. Far advanced in years, he had retained a character unimpeached in his professional line, nor was he less meritorious in his deportment in private life.
The various naval rencounters among the contending powers, were too diffuse for the present design, which is meant only as a sketch of a few of the most important events, in order to give a general idea of the sources of censure or applause bestowed on the principal actors: it may also elucidate the causes of that weight of opprobrium which fell on the admiralty department in England, at the close of the war. The bravery of many of the British naval commanders was signalized, though existing circumstances so frequently combined to render abortive their valorous exertions.
 Amidst the many enterprises of this busy period among the nations, it would not be just to pass over the year, without recollecting the honor due to a young hero, who perished in the gallant defence of the island of Jersey.
The unsuccessful attempt made to reduce the place, by a number of troops commanded by the baron de Rullincort, in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, did not discourage a second enterprise. This first attempt was finally defeated by relief from admiral Arbuthnot, who was then on his way to America. He had thought proper to stop, and lend his assistance to prevent the impending fate of the island. It is true he saved it from falling into the hands of the French at that time, but a very heavy balance of disadvantage was felt in consequence of this delay: the very large reinforcement, and the prodigious number of transports and merchant-men under his convoy, thus retarded, operated among other causes, to prevent timely succors to lord Cornwallis, of which he stood in the utmost necessity in Virginia.
On the sixth of January, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one, the baron de Rullincort made a second effort to recover the island of Jersey. The design was so secret, and the attack so sudden, that the out-guards were surprised,  and the avenues to the town of St. Helena seized, while the inhabitants lay in perfect security. In the morning of the seventh, in the utmost dismay, they found themselves in the hands of their enemies.
Major Corbet, the lieutenant governor, received the first intelligence that the French troops were in possession of the town, from his own servant, before he had risen from his bed. He was in a few minutes after surrounded and taken prisoner; and by the peremptory demand of the baron de Rullincort, he was so far intimidated as to sign a capitulation in behalf of the town, and issued orders, that his officers on their several stations should do the same.
A few of them obeyed: but captain Pierson, a brave young officer of only twenty-five years of age, assembled the militia of the island, and with a party of British troops withdrew to the neighbouring heights, on which the French commander, agreeably to the articles of capitulation, summoned him to surrender. Instead of a compliance, he, with the utmost intrepidity, advertised the baron de Rullincort, that unless he and his troops laid down their arms, and surrendered within twenty-four minutes, he should attack them in their post.
At the expiration of this short time, captain Pierson agreeably to his threat, proceeded to  the desperate enterprise. This was done with such vigor and success, that the French were driven to a decided action: the baron de Rullincort was mortally wounded; and within half an hour from the commencement of the engagement, the French troops were totally routed, and major Corbet, who was kept as a forlorn hope by the side of their commander, until Rullincort fell, was urged by the French troops to resume his command, and permit them to surrender as prisoners of war.
But the valiant Pierson did not live to enjoy the fruits of this splendid action, or the applauses of his country; he was unfortunately shot through the head, almost at the moment victory declared in his favor. The death of this brave young officer, who at so early a period had exhibited such proofs of military genius and capacity, was greatly and justly lamented. On the other hand, the passive Corbet was tried by court-martial, censured, and dismissed from further service; while engravings of the action, and the portraits of captain Pierson, were displayed through the nation, accompanied with the highest encomiums on his valor and merit.
It has been observed, that the Spaniards had never relinquished their design of subduing the strong fortress of Gibraltar, though obliged the last year to suspend it for a time. The reduction  of Minorca previous to their progress against Gibraltar, was by the Spaniards deemed an object of high importance. The island was invested by an armament under the command of the duke de Crillon, in August, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one; but the conquest was not completed until the fourth of February, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two.
Many circumstances peculiarly affecting, accompanied the siege and surrender of fort St. Philip. Shut up by a large armament, surrounded by a heavy train of artillery, commanded by the most able and experienced officers, the garrison was totally unable to make any effectual resistance. They were reduced by an inveterate scurvy that had long prevailed, infested with a pestilential fever, dysentery, and other disorders, without medicine for the sick or food for the healthy: no extreme of misery could exceed theirs before they yielded to the arms of Spain.
Yet in this condition of wretchedness, they displayed every mark of valor and fortitude, until the combined circumstances of distress obliged the remnant of British troops, reduced to about six hundred, old, worn-out, emaciated skeletons, to lay down their arms. This they did with tears of regret, and with an exclamation  extorted by the pride of valor, that they “submitted to God alone.”
Their appearance and their behavior equally excited the sympathy of the conqueror, and even drew involuntary tears from the victorious soldiers amidst the glory of success. The most compassionate attention was shewn to those aged and unfortunate veterans, who had been eleven years in garrison, by the noble Crillon, who directed every thing necessary to be provided for the relief of the sick, and ample supplies of provision and clothing were furnished by him, for the naked troops who still retained a degree of health.
We now leave events of less observation and notoriety, to pursue the termination of the interesting siege of Gibraltar. In the beginning of the autumn of the present year, all the powers of invention were called forth, to bring into action the most ingenious and fatal means of destruction; and the most glorious display of European valor was exhibited before the impregnable fortress of Gibraltar, that perhaps any age had beheld.
Battering ships of formidable size, and fireworks of the most curious construction, awakened attention in all. The fierce sons of Ishmael,  whose hands are against every man, and every man’s hand against them, at this time held their hostile arm suspended, and only viewed the work of carnage among the tributary nations, near their own coasts. * As they took no part in the conflict, the barbarian shores of Afric were covered with spectators, to view the frightful engines, and the awful play of the artillery of death.
The duke de Crillon was vested with the chief command of the mighty armament destined for the reduction of this proud fortress, that thundered defiance to all the neighbouring nations. Minorca reduced, and some other impediments surmounted, the duke, in conjunction with some of the first naval commanders in Europe, opened the formidable onset about the tenth of September. He was an officer equally distinguished for his politeness and his bravery. The last was conspicuously displayed from the beginning to the termination of this  awful enterprise; and a signal instance of the first appeared, when he sent a supply of vegetables and other delicacies for the table of general Elliot, while the garrison was almost without the smallest means of subsistence.
This present was accompanied with the highest expressions of personal regards for the British commander: the duke de Crillon assured him, “that he cherished a hope of meriting and meeting his future friendship, after he had learned to make himself worthy of that honor, by facing him as an enemy.” General Elliot replied with equal gallantry, that however he felt himself obliged by those tenders of politeness and generosity, yet as long as his brave troops suffered, and patiently endured a scarcity of provisions, he should accept nothing for himself; that as he was determined to participate in common with the lowest of his fellow-soldiers, every hardship they might suffer, he must of consequence be excused from the acceptance of any future favor.
The count de Artois, a brother of the king, and many other princes of the blood of France, and the royal house of Spain, were in the action before Gibraltar; an action that surpassed the descriptive pen of the historian or the poet, to do ample justice to the display of military skill in both parties, to the magnificence of design, the intrepidity of execution, the grandeur of  the scene, and the valor and magnanimity of both officers and soldiers.
Six thousand cannon shot, and upwards of one thousand shells, were discharged on one side every twenty-four hours: while an equal scale of vigor was kept up by the unceasing blaze of the other, until several of the best ships of the assailants were blown up, others enwrapped in a torrent of fire, and reduced to such a scene of misery and distress, as excited not only the pity, but the boldest exertions of the valiant English, in several instances, to snatch their enemies from destruction and death.
The intrepid captain Curtis, at the head of a brigade of marines, and at the hazard of his own life and the lives of his associates, dragged many men on the point of perishing from the burning ships of the combined fleet.
The Spanish admiral don Marino abandoned his ship but the moment before she was blown up. A number of ships, both of France and Spain, were reduced to the same distressed condition. A severe storm increased the catastrophe of the navy: but every compassionate mind will be willing to abridge a particular detail of such a period of horror; a period which portrayed images that seem to require a solemn pause, rather than a further dilation on the wretchedness of so many of our fellow-mortals.
 Lord Howe’s arrival toward the termination of this tremendous scene, with a force sufficient for the entire relief of the besieged, completely defeated the hopes of the house of Bourbon, of obtaining the long contemplated object. Thus this strong fortress, of which the English had been in possession from the treaty of Utrecht, in one thousand seven hundred and thirty-one, was again left to the triumph of the British nation. Its impregnable strength had often defied the hostilities, and was now likely to continue the envy, of the neighbouring nations.
The memory of Elliot and Boyde, the two principal officers who sustained this long and perilous siege, will be immortalized. They, with unexampled fortitude, endured the miseries of fatigue and famine, until worn down by the first, and on the point of perishing by the last. With skill, bravery, and resolution, unparalleled in modern story, they drove back the formidable invaders, blasted the expectations of their enemies, and obtained the most signal victory, when all Europe had denounced the fall of Gibraltar.
It was about the middle of October when lord Howe arrived, with every thing necessary for the relief of the distressed garrison. This extinguished all remains of hope, that might have been indulged in the breasts of some individuals among the commanders of the combined  fleet, already too much wounded and shattered for exertions of any kind. It is true a feint was made for an engagement with the British fleet, by don de Cordova on the part of Spain, and monsieur de Guichen the French admiral; but they soon discovered themselves willing to retire, without any decisive operations. The greatest part of the squadron took the first favorable opportunity to sheer off, and repaired with all possible expedition to Cadiz.
Let us now rest a little from the roar of cannon, and the dread sound of bombardment, thunder, and death, those horrid interpreters of the hostile dispositions of man, and listen to the milder voice of negociation. This often assimilates or unites nations, by more rational and humane discussions, than the implements of slaughter and destruction produce; and political altercations are frequently terminated, before decisions are announced by torrents of fire, spouted by the invention of man, to spread frightful desolation over his own species.
The capture of Mr. Laurens, who had been appointed to negociate with the Dutch provinces, and the steps taken to effect a treaty of amity and commerce between the United States of America and the inhabitants of the Netherlands, have already been related; also, the manner by which his packages were recovered by an adventurous sailor. In this deposite was  found, when presented to the British minister, the form of a treaty of amity and commerce between the republic of Holland and the United States of America, containing thirty-four articles. These were indeed, obnoxious enough to the court of Great Britain; but it appeared that it had been a very deliberate business. These articles had been examined and weighed by William Lee, esquire, a commissioner from congress then resident in Europe. This had been done by the advice of Van Berkel, counsellor and pensionary of the city of Amsterdam, and some other judicious Dutchmen. Thus every thing had promised the speedy completion of a treaty between the two republics.*
In consequence of this discovery, orders were sent to the British minister resident at the Hague, which were acted upon by him with energy and fidelity. Sir Joseph Yorke complained and memorialized to the states-general, on the nature and form of the designed treaty: he also expatiated on the conduct of many of the principal characters in the several united provinces, and on the treacherous and dangerous nature and tendency to Great Britain, of  several other papers and letters found among Mr. Laurens’s dispatches.
He repeated his complaints of the countenance and protection given by their high mightinesses to the piratical Paul Jones, while lying in the Texel, and recapitulated other circumstances of their conduct which had given offence to his nation; and intimated, that he expected within three weeks from the date of his memorial, some decided answer would be given, relative to the succors reclaimed eight months before; otherwise his majesty would look upon their conduct as breaking off the alliance on the part of their high mightinesses, and would not in future consider the united provinces in any other light, than on a footing with other neutral powers, unprivileged by treaty. But the minister obtained little satisfaction from the reply of their high mightinesses, or the deportment of the Hollanders.
The sum of their short reply was, that their high mightinesses were very desirous to coincide with the wishes of the king of England, but they could give no positive answer to his memorial, as it was impossible to return an answer in the short term of three weeks: they observed, that the memorial must be deliberated upon by the several provinces, and their resolutions waited for: that they were persuaded his majesty would not wish rigorously  to adhere to the afore mentioned time. They waved the business by observing further,
that their high mightinesses might be able to conclude upon an answer, in a manner conformable to the constitution of the republic, in which they had no right to make any alteration; and promised to accelerate the deliberations upon that head as much as possible.
The final result however was, that within a short time the vengeance of Britain was denounced against the Hollanders, by an explicit declaration of war. This in some measure relieved the Batavian provinces from the constrained attitude in which they had for some time stood, between Great Britain and the United States of America. But no treaty of alliance, amity, and commerce, was settled between the two republics, until it was effected by the negociation of Mr. Adams, who was appointed by congress, and repaired to the Hague immediately after the unfortunate capture of Mr. Laurens; but the business of his mission was not completed until the present year.
On Mr. Adams’s arrival in Holland, he found every thing in a happy train for negociation; the people well-disposed, and many of the most distinguished characters zealous for a treaty with the American states, without any farther  delay. Perhaps no man was better qualified to treat with the Batavians, than Mr. Adams. His manners and habits were much more assimilated to the Dutch than to the French nation; he rendered himself acceptable to them, by associating much with the common classes, by which he penetrated their views; yet he made himself acquainted with the first literary characters among the citizens. He took lodgings at Amsterdam, for several months, at the house of Mr. Dumas, a man of some mercantile interest, considerable commercial knowledge, not acquainted with manners or letters, but much attached to the Americans, from the general predilection of Dutchmen in favor of republicanism.
Though this was the disposition of most of the inhabitants of the united provinces, yet, as has been observed, there was a party attached to the stadtholder, and to the measures of the British cabinet, that hung as a dead weight on the wishes of the generality of their countrymen, and for a time retarded the business of the American plenipotentiary.
Vigilant himself, and urged by men of the best information in the Batavian provinces, Mr. Adams, soon after his arrival in Holland, presented a long memorial to the states-general. In this he sketched some general ideas of the principles and the grounds of the declaration  of independence, and the unanimity with which it was received and supported by all the thirteen united colonies in America.*
He vindicated the American claim to independence in a very handsome manner, and represented it as the interest of all the powers of Europe, and more particularly of the united provinces of the Netherlands, to support and maintain that claim. He pointed out the natural and political grounds of a commercial connexion between America and Holland, reminded them of the similarity of their religious and political principles, of their long and arduous struggles to secure their rights, of the sufferings of their ancestors to establish their privileges on principles which their sons could never derelict. In short, he urged in the memorial every reason for an alliance, with clearness, precision, and strength of argument. He observed, “that principles founded in eternal justice, and the laws of God and nature, both dictated to them, to cut in sunder all ties which had connected them with Great Britain.”†
Before Mr. Adams presented this memorial, he had been indefatigable in his endeavors to  cherish the attachment already felt by individual characters, toward the cause of America, and to strengthen the favorable opinion that most of the Dutch provinces had adopted before his arrival in Holland.
He had at the request of a private gentleman,‡ given him in a series of letters, a general idea of the situation of America, before and at the present period. He drew a portrait of her temper, her manners, her views, and her deportment: he stated the universal alienation and aversion to Great Britain, that prevailed throughout the United States; their ability to endure the protraction of the war; and observed on the small proportion of people that still adhered to the royal cause: he gave a concise statement of the public debt, the resources and population of America; and asserted that they could boast a multitude of characters, of equal ability to support the American cause, either in the field or in congress, on the supposeable circumstance, that any of the officers of the one or the other should be corrupted by British gold.
In one of these letters he observed, that
they considered themselves not only contending  for the purest principles of liberty, civil and religious, but against the greatest evils that any country ever suffered; for they knew, if they were deceived by England to break their union among themselves, and their faith with their allies, they would ever after be in the power of England, who would bring them into the most abject submission to the government of a parliament the most corrupted in the world, in which they would have no voice or influence, at three thousand miles distance.*
In another letter to the same gentleman he affirms,
that nothing short of an entire alteration of sentiment in the whole body of the people, can make any material change in the councils or conduct of the United States; and that Great Britain had not power or art enough to change essentially, the temper, the feelings, and the opinions, of between three and four millions of people, at three thousand miles distance, supported as they are by powerful allies: that the people in America were too enlightened to be deceived in any great plan of policy; they understood the principles and nature of government too well, to  be imposed on by any proposals short of their object.†
These letters were published and put into the hands of influential characters, and had a powerful effect on the liberal minds of the Batavians, already pre-disposed to union and friendship with the Americans. No ready reply was made by the states-general to the judicious memorial presented by Mr. Adams: in consequence of this delay, petitions, remonstrances, and addresses, were presented to their high mightinesses from all the Dutch provinces. In these they urged both the propriety and the policy of receiving a public minister in due form, from the United States of America.
The deputies to the states-general were every where instructed to concur in the measure of receiving Mr. Adams, as ambassador from the American congress, without farther deliberation: they insisted that his letters of credence should be received, and that negociations should be immediately entered on, between him and the high authorities of the united provinces. Yet still the business lagged heavily: the intrigues of the  duke of Brunswick, the favorite and prime counsellor of the stadtholder, and the influence of the British minister, were for a time an overbalance for the energy of republican resolves or entreaties.
This occasioned great dissatisfaction: a general murmur was heard through the several departments in the Dutch provinces: the measures of the court, and the duke of Brunswick as the adviser, were attacked from the presses, his dismission as field marshal was urged, and his retirement from Holland insisted on. To him, in conjunction with the designs of England and the subserviency of the stadtholder to the cabinet of Britain, was attributed the derangement of their marine, and the mismanagement of all their public affairs.
Previous to this, in the assembly of the states of Guelderland, in November, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one, Robert Jasper Van der Capellen, in a very spirited speech, enforced with much precision, the necessity of opposing the measures which had created a general discordance through all the provinces of Holland.
that a mean condescension, a fawning compliance with the measures of England, ought no longer to prevent us from  acknowledging the independence of a republic, which after our own glorious example, has acquired its freedom by arms, and is daily striving to shake off entirely, the galling yoke of our common enemy.
He said it was his opinion, that a treaty of amity between the two republics had been already too long held in suspense, and that it was injuring both nations for their high mightinesses to postpone the reception of the American minister, or keep back the negociation.
This was the general spirit of the most distinguished members of the provinces, while Mr. Adams still persevered in every prudent measure, to facilitate the object of his mission. He was every where cordially received as an American, respected as a republican, and considered in the light of an ambassador from a new and great nation.
Mr. Adams was not indeed honored with a reply to his first memorial, but he was too zealous in the cause of his country to submit long to such an evasive step. Determined to bring on a speedy decision, a short time only elapsed, before the American minister, without waiting for a replication to his first, presented a second address to the states-general. In this he referred them to his former memorial, and demanded a categorical answer, that he might be able  to transmit to the authority under which he acted, an account of his negociation.*
This second memorial was more effective in promoting the wishes of the friends of America, than any previous step. We have already seen from a variety of circumstances, that such was the desire, not only of the mercantile, but of most of the distinguished and patriotic characters in Holland, to enter into a close alliance with the American states, that it could no longer be postponed, without throwing the united provinces into distraction and confusion, that could not easily have been accommodated. The resolute and undaunted deportment of Mr. Adams, concurring with their dispositions, and with the interests and the views of the United Netherlands, at last accomplished the object of his mission, entirely to his own, and to the satisfaction of both republics, though it had been impeded by Great Britain, and not encouraged by any other power in Europe.
On the twenty-second of April, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, Mr. Adams was admitted at the Hague, and with the usual ceremonies  on such occasions, received as minister plenipotentiary from the United States of America.
Articles of alliance, and a treaty of amity, were signed by both parties, and a loan of money was soon offered by the Dutch, and accepted by Mr. Adams for the use of the United States. This treaty of alliance and friendship between the sister republics of Holland and America, was the subject of much triumph to the latter, and not less to the minister who finished the negociation. Every expression of satisfaction and joy appeared in all classes of inhabitants through the Batavian provinces, on the confirmation of their union and alliance with a sister republic.
The treaty between their high mightinesses the states-general, and the United States of America, contained twenty-nine articles. These were in substance, first, that there should be a firm, indissoluble, and general peace, between the United Provinces of the Netherlands and the United States of America, and the citizens, inhabitants of their respective states. The second and third articles stipulated mutually the duties to be paid, and the freedom of trade and navigation, without interruption by either nation, to whatever part of the universe their trade might be extended.
 The fourth article was principally relative to the rights of commerce, the enjoyment of their own religion, and the rites of decent sepulture to the persons who might die in the territories of their allies. A number of other articles were inserted, which discovered, even in their treaties, the peculiar taste, genius, and apprehensions of republicans. They were in language and expression, in several instances, very different from the usual style and manner observed between monarchic powers, more tenacious of the obedience of their subjects, while living, than attentive to the preservation of their lives, or to the decent deposite of their ashes, when dead.
The other articles contained in this treaty, principally related to commercial intercourse between contending powers. These were of great importance to the Dutch, whose energies were remarkable as a trading nation; nor were they of less consideration to the Americans, whose advantages promised that they might become one of the first commercial powers in the world.
The British minister, sir Joseph Yorke, sent on for the purpose, still zealously endeavoured, as he had done before, to shake the engagements of the republic of Holland, and draw them off from the interests of the American  states. Though the court of Great Britain had been irritated until they had proceeded to the most vigorous and severe measures against the Dutch, yet on the successes of America, and the prospect of new acquisitions of strength and dignity from foreign alliances, they had condescended so far, as to permit their minister to make proposals of a separate peace with the United States of Holland.
These overtures for a separate peace, which England had recently made, might probably quicken the measures of the United States of Holland, and hasten the completion of the wishes of the Americans. They were rejected with disdain by the honest republicans: and at this period of amity between the two republics, the American minister boasted in a letter to the author, that he “should look down with pleasure from the other world, on the American flag-staff planted in Holland.”
The exultation and joy exhibited in the Batavian provinces, on signing the treaty between the two republics, was more than usually animated, and rose to an exhilaration of spirits seldom discovered in such a phlegmatic nation. Among many other instances of the general approbation of the measure, a society of citizens established at Leon Warden, under the motto of Libertyand Zeal, presented a medal to the states of Friesland, as the first public body that had  explicitly proposed a connexion and alliance with the American states.
No people on earth were more passionately enamoured with liberty, or more obstinate in the defence of freedom, than the inhabitants of Friesland: this is known from their ancient history. They enjoyed their liberty, and retained a greater degree of independence than their neighbours, through a long course of years, even from Drusus to Charlemagne, and from Charlemagne down to the present time.* They have always been distinguished for their free, independent spirit; for their valor, magnanimity, and bold defence of the liberties of their province.
Though a general uneasiness had long prevailed through every part of Holland, the deputies of Friesland had been more explicit than any of the provinces, with regard to the pernicious influence of the duke of Brunswick. They had strongly expressed their discontent in general, with respect to public measures, and particularly with those relative to the navy department: they had written to the stadtholder, and strongly expressed the universal distrust and discontent, respecting the manner in which the affairs of the nation had been conducted,  and the consequences they apprehended, which could not fail to be highly prejudicial to public tranquillity. They attributed these disorders to the mal-administration of the duke of Brunswick, requested that he might no longer be permitted to continue either as an actor or adviser in the affairs of Holland, but that his serene highness the stadtholder, would cause him to be removed from court immediately.
This however was not done, nor was there any reason to suppose, notwithstanding he had acceded thereto, that the stadtholder and such as were attached to his family interest, and to the schemes and projects of the duke of Brunswick, were well pleased with the alliance between the United States of America and the Batavian provinces. Subsequent transactions evinced this, to the conviction of every one. But notwithstanding the secret chagrin which might pervade his, or the mind of any other individual, the great body of a nation, that had for near a century discovered an enthusiastic attachment to liberty, and who had surmounted inexpressible sufferings to maintain it, did not suppress the most lively demonstrations of general satisfaction on the happy event.
The medal above mentioned, presented by the society of Leon Warden to the states of Friesland, was expressive of the general sentiment of the nation, as well as of their own  alienation from England, and their attachment to America. On one side of it, dedicated by the society of Liberty and Zeal, was represented a Friesian, dressed according to their ancient characteristic custom, holding out his right hand to a North American, in token of friendship and brotherly love, while with the left he rejects a separate peace which England offers him.
There had been dissensions in Holland, which had existed a number of years previous to the present period. The people had been divided between an aristocratic and a republican party: the one influenced by their attachment to the stadtholder, the other had co-operated with the interests of France. In the midst of the animosities occasioned by the dissensions of these two parties, a third arose of a still more important nature, which embraced a system more free than yet existed in the republic of Holland.
This gave rise to the observations in a work of celebrity, that
Animated by the example of North America, and by that spirit of liberty and independence which has lately diffused itself in the world, in favor of democracy, the language of pure republicanism has been held by its citizens. They have publicly talked of choosing delegates, and asserting the rights of nature: their merchants and manufacturers have taken to the use of arms, and are daily  improving themselves in military discipline. To judge from the auspicious contagion that has been caught from the revolution in America, we should be almost ready to say,—One more such revolution would give freedom to the world!
The prevalence of this spirit in the Batavian provinces, rendered the work of negociation less arduous for the American ambassador. Yet while in Holland, Mr. Adams was in no point deficient in vigilance, nor did he neglect to fan the republican zeal, by every argument in favor of civil liberty, of the equal rights of man, and of a republican form of government, during his residence in the low countries.
His satisfaction at the successful termination of his mission, was evinced both in his public conduct, and in the private effusions of his pen. In his diplomatic character, Mr. Adams had never enjoyed himself so well, as while residing in the Dutch republic. Regular in his morals, and reserved in his temper, he appeared rather gloomy in a circle; but he was sensible, shrewd, and sarcastic, among private friends. His genius was not altogether calculated for a court life, amidst the conviviality and gaiety of Parisian taste. In France he was never happy: not beloved by his venerable colleague, doctor Franklin; thwarted by the minister, the count de Vergennes, and ridiculed  by the fashionable and polite, as deficient in the je ne scai quoi, so necessary in highly polished society; viewed with jealousy by the court, and hated by courtiers, for the perseverance, frigidity, and warmth, blended in his deportment; he there did little of consequence, until the important period when, in conjunction with Dr. Franklin and Mr. Jay, a treaty of peace was negociated between Great Britain and the United States of America.
Soon after the present period, Mr. Adams was summoned from the Hague by order of the American congress, directed to repair to Paris, and assist in the important work of negociating a peace between Great Britain and her former colonies, now a confederated and independent nation. In this business he acquitted himself with equal firmness, and equally to the satisfaction and approbation of his country, as he had before done in Holland. His reputation was enhanced among his countrymen, and his popularity kept up for a number of years, after the honorable part he had acted as a diplomatic character, in his treaty with Holland, and as a firm and zealous friend to the interests of his country, through the negociations for peace with his colleagues in France.
The loan of money obtained from Holland by the address of Mr. Adams, was a great relief  to the United States. This was at a crisis when their resources were drained by a long expensive war, and a paper substitute for specie had ceased to be of any farther utility. He had so handsomely anticipated the future resources of America, and contrasted the immense public debt of Great Britain with the comparatively small expenditures for national purposes in America, that not only the Dutch government conceded willingly to the propriety of assisting the United States, by the advance of monies, but the affluent merchants, and others in possession of vast private property in that rich, commercial country, offered, with the utmost alacrity, some handsome loans, to assist and facilitate the freedom and growth of a young sister republic, from whom they expected to derive the greatest commercial advantages, when war should cease, and her independence was universally acknowledged.
Mr. Adams’s opinion, at this early period, seemed to favor the idea, that America would be capable of bearing taxes to an immense amount in future, though this was a burden of which they had had, comparatively, little experience. He observed, that
the people in America had not yet been disciplined to such enormous taxation as in England, but that they were capable of bearing as great taxes in proportion as the English; and if the English  force them to it by continuing the war, they will reconcile themselves to it.*
But it might have been observed, that it would require a great number of years, and many contingent events, to reconcile the inhabitants of the United States to the taxing of houses, lands, hearths, window-lights, and all the conveniences of life, as in England. Not the necessity of extricating themselves from old foreign debts, or newly-contracted expenses for exigencies or projects, which they considered unnecessary in a republican government, could suddenly lead a people generally to acquiesce in measures, to which they had heretofore been strangers. The artificial creation of expenses by those who deem a public debt a public blessing, will easily suggest plausible pretences for taxation, until every class is burdened to the utmost stretch of forbearance, and the great body of the people reduced to penury and slavery.
It does not always redound to the benefit of younger states and less affluent nations, to become indebted to foreigners for large sums of money; but without this assistance from several of the European powers, it would have been impossible for the United States, under their complicated inconveniences and embarrassments, to have resisted so long the opulent and powerful  nation of Britain. America was necessitated to borrow money abroad to support her credit at home; and had not the Dutch loan been obtained, it is impossible to calculate what would have been the consequences to the United States, who had not at this period, even the weak support of an artificial medium, while their armies were unpaid, and their soldiers on the point of mutiny, for the want of immediate subsistence. His countrymen thought themselves highly indebted to Mr. Adams, for procuring this timely supply of cash, as well as for so ably negociating a treaty of amity and commerce. It gave a new spring to all their exertions, which had for some time lagged heavily, for want of the necessary sinews for the protraction of war, or for enterprise in any other line of business.
C H A P T E R X X V I
General Uneasiness with Ministerial Measures in England, Scotland, and Ireland • Loud Complaints against the Board of Admiralty . Sir Hyde Parker resigns his Commission • Motion for an Address for Peace, by General Conway • Resignation of Lord George Germaine—Created a Peer of the Realm • Lord North resigns—Some traits of his Character • Petition of the City of London for Peace • Coalition of Parties—A new Ministry • Death and Character of the Marquis of Rockingham • Lord Shelburne’s Administration • Negociations for Peace—Provisional Articles signed • Temper of the Loyalists • Execution of Captain Huddy—Consequent Imprisonment of Captain Asgill—Asgill’s Release
chap. xxvi While new alliances were negociating between the Americans and several European powers, and the importance of the United States was appreciating in the scale of nations,1782 the councils of Britain were confused, and the parliament and the nation split into parties.
The American war was become very unpopular in England, and discontents prevailed in all parts of the empire. Many of the favorites of the present reign had been taken from beyond  the wall of Adrian,* yet there was a growing dissatisfaction with all the measures of administration, and a prevailing discontent and uneasiness, through the Scotch nation; but this was owing more to some religious dissensions, than from any liberal or enlarged views of political liberty, among the class of people loudest in complaint.
Yet much less was to be apprehended from the discontents in Scotland, than from those of the oppressed Irish, driven nearly to the point of revolt. They had long and justly murmured at the high-handed measures of the parliament of England, and the degraded and inferior rank in which they were viewed at the court of St. James. The late restrictions on their commerce, a recent embargo for three years on their staple export, the inhibitions, the  disqualifications, and frequent severe penalties, laid on the great body of the Roman Catholic inhabitants, with a long list of other grievances that might be enumerated, they considered as marks of national contempt, and a sacrifice of the interest of Ireland, to favor the avarice of British contractors, speculators, and pensioners. They were sensible that no means were neglected to rivet the chains in which they were held by the prejudices of Englishmen, with regard to their commerce, their police, and their religious opinions.
Their resentment did not evaporate in unmeaning and inactive complaint: they entered into combinations against the use and purchase of British manufactures, and prohibited their importation into Ireland, under very heavy penalties: measures for defence, and military associations, were every where adopted: this they justified from the apprehension of foreign invasion, and the extraordinary weakness of the state, in consequence of drawing off the troops for active service in America, which had usually been stationed in Ireland for the defence of that kingdom.
The Irish volunteers who assembled in arms on this occasion, soon amounted to near sixty thousand men, and daily increased in number and strength. These were not composed merely  of the middling or lower classes of people; men of fortune and character were seen in the ranks, and even many of the nobility appeared to encourage these associations.
This armament was very alarming to Great Britain, but it could not be suppressed: the inhabitants of Ireland were bold and undaunted; and, encouraged by the example of America, they strenuously supported their rights, and made use of the same arguments against a standing army in time of peace, which had been urged in the assemblies and congresses of the colonies. They resolutely refused to submit longer to such unconstitutional and dangerous measures, resisted the mutiny act, denied its validity, and opposed and prevented the magistrates in making provision for the remnant of the king’s troops still left in the country.
One of their patriots* of name and ability, asserted that the act was dangerous and unconstitutional; that
the mutiny bill, or martial law methodized, was not only different from, but directly opposite to, the common law of the land; it set aside trial by jury, departed from her principles of evidence, declined her ordinary tribunals of justice, and in their place established a summary proceeding, arbitrary  crimes, arbitrary punishments, a secret sentence, and a sudden execution.
The determinations of the Irish to recover their freedom, and maintain their native rights, were represented in the most eloquent strains of rhetoric: the strong and pointed language was dictated by the heart, approved by the judgment, and expressed in the periods of the best orators. The names of many well-informed Irish gentlemen were distinguished, and will be handed down on the conspicuous list, both for the brilliancy of their epithets, and their strength of reasoning. Among these, the celebrated Mr. Grattan was marked for his superior eloquence, learning, patriotism, and other virtues. The talents of Mr. Flood and others were called forth; and by the energies and exertions of those patriotic leaders, they obtained some amelioration of the burdens complained of. Thus by the decided spirit of many eminent characters in the nation, the British parliament was induced to take some steps that produced a temporary quiet in Ireland: more lenity was shewn toward the Roman Catholics, and some other small indulgencies granted, but nothing sufficient to restore lasting tranquillity to the country.
While the sister kingdoms were thus restless and dissatisfied, a general uneasiness discovered  itself throughout England, on the disappointment of their naval operations. After the affair on the Dogger-Bank, sir Hyde Parker thought he had been so far unsupported, that his honor impelled him to resign. The neglect of proper support to the worthy Kempenfelt, and other brave naval commanders, was highly censured throughout the kingdom.
Mr. Fox brought a number of direct and explicit charges against the board of admiralty; first, in suffering the count de Grasse to sail to the West Indies, without an effort to intercept him; secondly, the loss of the St. Eustatia convoy, when near sixty sail of British ships, with much property and many prisoners, were sent into Cadiz by don Lewis de Cordova, who commanded the combined fleet of France and Spain at the time.
The engagement with admiral Zeutman, the failure of admiral Kempenfelt to cut off the count de Guichen, and several other disappointments in the naval line, were all attributed to the same cause, negligence and incapacity in the first lord of the admiralty. An address to the king was proposed, that the earl of Sandwich should be removed from his majesty’s councils forever: his character was universally vilified in England: a writer in that country may have delineated it more exactly than can be expected from any one at a distance.
 He observes,
that future historians may do justice to his moral character, but that in so barren a wilderness, it would be happy if one solitary virtue could enliven the prospect. But, as destitute of feeling as of principle, amidst the copious crop of vices which overwhelmed his whole character, not even that of cowardice was wanting, to move contempt as well as detestation; and strange it is, that though his sentiments with regard to both natural and revealed religion were well known, yet so timid was his nature, that he never dared to be alone.
After these general traits, we cannot wonder, that he was in his political life the decided enemy of his country, and the devoted instrument of a corrupt cabinet. His name, indeed, was never mentioned, without exciting sentiments of contempt. If nature had endowed him with talents, the course of dissipation in which he was engaged, must have disqualified him for their exercise. He possessed an active, but not a strong mind: practised in the intrigues of a court, and the habits of parliament, he could speak with facility, but his ideas never took an extensive range: the paltry maxims of court intrigue finished the outlines of his character. *
 Mr. Fox’s address for the removal of the earl of Sandwich, was supported by lord Howe and admiral Keppel: they censured his mismanagement and prodigality, exposed his blunders and want of capacity, and painted in glowing colors his misconduct, and the fatal consequences to the navy and to the nation, by his having been thus long continued in an office of such high trust and responsibility: but he had his friends and defenders; and after long and warm debates, the motion for his removal was lost by a small majority.
After many desultory grounds and circumstances of uneasiness were discussed, a motion of high importance was made in the house of commons, by general Conway; this was for an address to the king, requesting him to put an immediate period to the destructive war in America. This motion was lost only by a single vote—one hundred and ninety-three were in favor of, and one hundred and ninety-four against it. But the object of peace was not relinquished; the address was again brought forward, and finally carried.
After various expedients had been proposed, which were reprobated in strong terms, lord Cavendish moved, that the house should resolve, that the enormous expenses of the nation, the loss of the colonies, a war with France, Spain, Holland, and America, without a single ally,  was occasioned by a want of foresight and ability in his majesty’s ministers, and that they were unworthy of further confidence.
In short, such a general reprobation of all former measures ensued, and such a universal vilification of the heads of departments, and such unlimited censure fell on every part of their conduct, through a seven years’ war, that the old ministry found themselves on the point of dissolution.
Lord George Germaine, who had kept his ground beyond all expectation, through a very tempestuous season, now found himself obliged to resign his office as minister of the American department. Though rewarded for his services by peculiar tokens of his majesty’s favor, and dignified by a peerage, he stood for a time in a most humiliating predicament. Several of the house of lords thought the nation disgraced, and themselves affronted, by the creation of a man to that illustrious order, who had formerly been censured by a court-martial, and dismissed from all employment in a military line, and who had recently and obstinately pursued measures in the cabinet, and supported a destructive system, that had brought the nation to the brink of ruin.*
 His promotion was also opposed in the house of commons, from the “impolicy of rewarding, in the present conjuncture of affairs, a person so deeply concerned in the American war.” It was observed, that it might have a tendency to defeat the purposes of a great and solemn inquiry, in which the conduct of that noble personage might appear to deserve the severest punishment. But supported by royal prerogative, his lordship retained his high rank, and enjoyed a kind of triumph in the favor of the king, in spite of the reproaches of his enemies; yet, neither ribbons or stars could erase the stigma that hung on his character, both as a minister and a soldier.
Nor at this period could the puissaint nobleman at the head of the treasury, any longer stand the torrent of reproach and complaint that was poured out against him. On the twentieth of March, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, lord North resigned his place, and declared to the house of commons, that the present administration from that day ceased to exist.
It has been observed by a British writer of ability, that
lord North was educated in the school of corruption; naturally of an easy, pliant temper; that that disposition was increased by the maxims he had imbibed. He was rather a man of wit, than consummate  abilities; ready and adroit, rather than wise and sagacious. He considered the faculty of parrying the strokes levelled at him in the house of commons, as the first qualification of a minister. Under his administration, a regular system of pension and contract was adopted, more pernicious than the casual expedients of Walpole, to facilitate his measures. *
However he might merit the severities contained in the several sketches of his character, his lordship quitted his station with as much firmness, address, and dignity, as any man of understanding and political abilities possibly could have done, who had stood at the head  of administration during an unfortunate war that continued near seven years. At the same time, what had greatly enhanced his difficulties and his responsibility, all the other powers in Europe, were either in alliance with America, or stood by as unconcerned spectators of a combat, which augured a train of most important events to the political, civil, and religious state of Christendom, if not to the world.
His lordship declared, that he did not mean to shrink from trial; that he should always be prepared to meet it; that a successor might be found of better judgment, and better qualified for the high and arduous station; but none more zealously attached to the interest of his country, and the preservation of the British constitution, than himself.
It is indeed easy to believe, that his lordship was willing to retire, and happy to quit the helm of state, which he had held with such an unsuccessful hand. He had sent out his mandates, and proclaimed his recisions, until the thirteen United States of America were irretrievably lost to Great Britain; until Minorca was captured by the Spaniards . . . Dominica, St. Vincent’s, Tobago, Grenada, and other islands in the West Indies, by the French; and until two British armies, commanded by some of the most distinguished officers in the nation, were prisoners in the American states.
 Thus after the blood of thousands of the best soldiers in England, of the best officers in the nation, had been sacrificed, and multitudes of Americans, formerly the best subjects to the crown of Britain, had been immolated on the altar of ambition, avarice, or revenge; after the nation was involved in expenses beyond calculation, her trade ruined, and the national character disgraced by the iniquitous principles of the war; it is not strange that the parliament was agitated, the ministry dismayed, and the people thrown into consternation and disgust. The murmur was universal, the public councils were divided, and the ministry and their measures were become the ridicule of foreign nations.
Through all the struggle between Great Britain and her colonies, not one of the powers of Europe had declared against America; but on the contrary, most of them had either secretly or openly, espoused her cause. Yet it is not to be supposed that the passive demeanor of some, and the friendly deportment of others, was the result of a general love of liberty among potent nations, or splendid courts, where the sceptre of royalty was swayed, at least in some of them, with a very despotic hand. Their interests and their ambition were united; and led them  to anticipate and to boast the pernicious consequences to England of this unfortunate war.
Doubtless a jealousy of the enormous power of Britain, and the proud glory to which she had arrived in the preceding reign, operated strongly to cherish the pacific disposition of some, and to prompt others to lend an hostile arm to dissever the growing colonies from the crown and authority of Great Britain. They could not but rejoice at the dismemberment of an empire, that had long been the dread of some, and the envy and hatred of other nations. It was too soon for them to forget, that under the wise and energetic administration of a Chatham, the kingdoms of the earth had trembled at the power of England; that in conjunction with the American colonies, Britannia, mounted on a triumphal car, had bid proud defiance to all the potentates in Europe; that the thunder of her cannon was dreaded from the eastern seas to the western extreme; and that her flag was revered, and that her navy gave laws, from the Ganges to the Mississippi.
The insolence of this proud mistress of the seas only partially checked, her glory shrouded, and the haughty islanders humbled. … humbled by their own injudicious and overbearing measures, was a spectacle viewed with delight by neighbouring nations, and contemplated by France with peculiar satisfaction. Yet it was  perhaps, equally the policy and the interest of both the French and the British prime ministers, at this period, to promote pacific measures. It was the wish of both nations to be relieved from the distresses of a long and expensive war; and the officers in the first departments were convinced, more especially in England, that they had little other chance to keep their places, than by a compliance with the general will of the people.
The discontents among the inhabitants of Great Britain, ran higher than ever. Chagrined by repeated defeat and losses, both by sea and land; alarmed at the monstrous accumulation of the national debt, the weight of taxes; the value of landed property daily sinking, and the public burthens increasing; many gentlemen who had been sanguine in favor of the American war, seemed to awaken at once from their lethargy, and to appear sensible, that ruin stared in the face of themselves, as well as of the nation.
From the present temper that discovered itself within the house of commons, or from appearances without, the minority had no reason to be discouraged with regard to their favorite object, which was the restoration of peace between Great Britain and the colonies. On the twenty-seventh of February, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, general Conway made  a second motion for addressing the throne, and urging that the ruinous war with America should no longer be pursued.
Fortunately, a petition from the city of London was the same day presented, praying that a cessation of hostilities between Great Britain and her former provinces, might immediately take place. The motion for peace was now carried in the house without much opposition: an address was presented for that purpose, to the king, on the first day of March. In this he was humbly implored to lend his sanction to measures for a restoration of general harmony. His answer, though in milder language than had of late been the fashion of the court, was not sufficiently explicit, but it was not left open to retraction. The prompt measures, the zeal and vigor of an opposition that had long been in the minority, at last gained the ascendancy, and secured a truce so much desired by a people weary of war, and so necessary for the relief, the honor, and the restoration of character to a gallant nation.
In order to facilitate this happy event, a proposal for conciliation was made, that could scarcely have been expected to succeed. A coalescence of parties where animosities had run so high, and the minds of men had been so embittered by a series of disappointments and unceasing irritation, was a circumstance not  within the calculation of any one. But it was found necessary to bury, or at least to suppress, the prejudices of party, to lay aside private resentment, and to unite in one system for the general good. All were so convinced of this necessity, that the proposal was conceded to; and after the resignation of lord North, a complete change of ministry took place, composed of active and conspicuous characters from each party; but according to a trite saying, it proved indeed, no more than a rope of sand.
Sir Welbore Ellis had been appointed minister for the American department, immediately on the removal of lord George Germaine. But his principles and his reasonings relative to American affairs; his general observations on the transactions of war, of the belligerent powers, of the French nation, of the American loyalists, of the means of harmony, and the restoration of peace; subjected him to the satirical strokes, and the severe epithets of pointed ridicule, that have always flowed so easy from the lip of the oratorical Burke. The chastisement also of his opinions by Mr. Fox and others, zealous for the termination of the contest between Great Britain and her colonies, shewed that the friend and pupil of lord Sackville did not stand on very firm ground.
Though it appeared to the world to be composed of motley materials, yet all matters were  adjusted for the establishment of a new administration, and the nation cherished the most sanguine hopes from the change. The marquis of Rockingham stood at the head of the new arrangement. No character among the nobility of Britain, was at this time held in higher estimation than his; nor was any man better qualified for the appointment of first lord of the treasury, as a successor to lord North, whose character, principles, abilities, and perseverance, have been sketched in the course of narration.
The manners of Rockingham were amiable; his temper, mild and complacent; his rank, fortune, and personal influence, commanding; his principles, uniform in favor of the rights of man; and his capacity, and constant opposition to the American war, rendered him a fit person to stand in this high station of responsibility. He was well qualified to correct the political mistakes of his predecessor, and to retrieve the honor of the nation on the approach of negociations for peace. But as in human life the most important events sometimes depend on the character of a single actor, the sudden exit of such a character often blasts the hopes, clouds the minds, and defeats the expectations of contemporaries.
This observation was fully verified in the premature death of the noble marquis, who lived  only three months after his appointment to the helm of administration. All eyes had been fixed on him as the band of union, and the promoter and the prop of both public and private peace; but his death, which took place on the first of July, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, involved his country in new difficulties, and created new scenes of dissension and animosity.
Many other departments in the new system of ministerial measures, were filled by gentlemen of the first character and consideration. Lord John Cavendish was appointed chancellor of the exchequer—The Duke of Richmond, master of the ordnance—Grafton, lord privy-seal—Admiral Keppel, first lord of the admiralty—Lord Camden, president of the council—General Conway, commander in chief of all the forces in Great Britain—Mr. Thomas Townsend, secretary at war—LordShelburne and Mr. Fox, principal secretaries of state—ColonelBarre, treasurer of the navy—And Mr. Burke, paymaster of the troops.
On the death of the marquis of Rockingham, lord Shelburne, to the surprise of his associates in the ministry, had gained such an interest as to obtain the appointment of first lord of the treasury, in the room of a favorite of the nation and of the new ministry. To the newly coalesced administration, the unexpected advancement of lord Shelburne to this dignified and  important station, was so disgusting, that it broke the coalition. Mr. Fox and lord Cavendish resigned their places. This precipitant dereliction of office at such a critical period, by gentlemen of their high consideration, was regretted by some, severely censured by others, and was mortifying indeed to their friends, who, though far from being pleased, continued to act with the new lord-treasurer.
The reasons assigned by Mr. Fox for thus quitting his place, at such a crisis, were, “that the system in which he consented to unite in the coalition, was not likely to be pursued;” that the first principle of this system was, an express acknowledgment of the independence of the United States of America, instead of making it an article in the provisional treaty, as proposed by some: to this unequivocal independence of America, he knew lord Shelburne to be opposed.
In reply to this, his lordship rose and defended his own opinions. He declared he was not ashamed to avow, and to act upon, the ideas of the great lord Chatham: he said it was well known, that this distinguished statesman had asserted, that “the sun of England’s glory would set, if independence was granted to America.” He added, that he
wished himself had been deputed to congress, that he would then have exerted all his talents to  convince them, that if their independence was signed, their liberties were gone forever.
He expressly declared that it was his opinion,
that the independence of the united colonies not only threatened the extinction of their own liberties, but the ruin of England; and that certainly by giving them independence, they would finally be deprived of that freedom they had been struggling to secure and enjoy.
It was difficult, even at this late period, to convince many of the most intelligent gentlemen in England, that independence was a gift that America did not now ask; the boon was their own; obtained by their own prowess and magnanimity, in conjunction with the armies of their brave allies.
It may be proper to observe, that if England should in reality feel, that the splendor of her solar rays are eclipsed by the dismemberment of such a branch of the empire, the amputation might not yet be fatal to her prosperity and glory. They might yet prosper in a friendly alliance with the colonies, if the parliament, the nation, and their sovereign, should be in future disposed to moderation and justice, and would shew themselves sincere in promoting friendship and harmony with an infant republic. It is true this republic has been forced into premature  existence; yet she held herself in all diplomatic concerns, on a footing with any other nation, and was now ready to form alliances with them and all other foreign powers, without becoming dependent on, or tributary to any.
Affairs were now brought to a point; there was no possibility of oscillating longer between peace and war: coercion had been long enough unsuccessfully tried; negociation was now the only path to be trodden, however thorny it might appear to the pride of royalty, or to the omnipotence of a British parliament.
After repeated captures of the best appointed armies, composed both of domestic and foreign troops, despair of subjugating the United States had lowered down the spirit of the nation, and of the king of England so far, as to become willing to treat on terms for the restoration of amity, and to speak with some degree of temper, of the total separation and independence of America.
Lord Shelburne’s opinions had been so diametrically opposite to those of the gentlemen who had seceded from the administration, that they thought themselves fully justified in withdrawing from public service, even while the important business was in agitation, and every thing ripening for new negociations, replete  with events beyond the calculations of the wisest statesmen and politicians. In their self approbation they were confirmed, when they thought they discovered a degree of duplicity in the business. Notwithstanding lord Shelburne had explicitly avowed, that his own wishes were of a different nature, it appeared he had directed general Carleton and admiral Digby, to acquaint the commander in chief of the American army, and to request him to inform congress, that the king of Great Britain desirous of peace, had commanded his ministers about to negociate, to insure the independence of the thirteen provinces, instead of making it a condition of a general treaty. *
But when Mr. Oswald, who had been appointed to act as the commissioner of peace in behalf of Great Britain, and to arrange the provisional articles for that purpose, arrived at Paris, in the autumn of one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, it appeared that his instructions were not sufficiently explicit. They did not satisfy the American agents, deputed by congress to negociate the terms of reconciliation among the contending powers. These  were doctor Franklin, John Jay, and John Adams, esquires: Mr. Adams was still at the Hague; but he had been directed by congress to repair to France, to assist his colleagues in their negociations for peace.
The ambiguity of Mr. Oswald’s commission, occasioned much altercation between the count de Vergennes and Mr. Jay, on the subject of the provisional articles. Their disputes were not easily adjusted; and the Spanish minister, the count de Aranda, rather inclined to an acquiescence in the proposals of the British commissioner. Mr. Jay however resisted with firmness; and was supported in his opinions by Mr. Adams, who soon after arrived in Paris. But before his arrival, Mr. Reyneval, the secretary and confidential friend of the French minister, repaired rather privately to England. It was suspected, and not without sufficient grounds, that this visit was decidedly intended to procure a conference with lord Shelburne.
It was undoubtedly the wish of both France and England, to exclude America from the right of fishing on the Banks of Newfoundland; an advantage claimed by Americans as a right of nature, from their contiguous situation, and as their right by prescription. The American commissioners insisted, that their claims were equally just with any exclusive pretensions, either of Great Britain or France. The navigation  of the Mississippi, British debts, and the American loyalists, were matters of dissension, debate, and difficulty.
The American ministers were not disposed to relinquish any claims of honor, equity, or interest, either to the haughty demands of Great Britain, the intrigues of France, or even to the condescending instructions, in some instances, of their own national congress. This body had, in the enthusiasm of their gratitude for the assistance lent in their distress by France, instructed their agents to take no step of importance, without the advice and counsel of the marquis de la Fayette, which would have given great advantage to the French ministry. *
The limits of the eastern boundaries of the United States, were a subject of dispute, thought by some of them of less consequence; but with regard to the western territorial rights, the American commissioners were tenacious indeed. The American territory has been parcelled out, and patenteed by the sovereigns of Europe, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and by existing treaties, the United States have no inconsiderable claim in the distribution. Their claims were undoubtedly founded on as equitable a basis as those of Great Britain and France. The negociating ministers of congress were unwilling  to relinquish any part of their claim; they supported their independent attitude with manly dignity, nor did they yield in the smallest degree to the encroaching spirit of Britain.
The American claims to a vast uncultivated tract of wilderness, which neither Great Britain, France, or America, had any right to invade, may ultimately prove a most unfortunate circumstance to the Atlantic states, unless the primary object of the American government should be, to civilize and soften the habits of savage life. But if the lust of domination, which takes hold of the ambitious and the powerful in all ages and nations, should be indulged by the authority of the United States, and those simple tribes of men, contented with the gifts of nature, that had filled their forests with game sufficient for their subsistence, should be invaded, it will probably be a source of most cruel warfare and bloodshed, until the extermination of the original possessors. In such a result, the mountains and the plains will perhaps be filled with a fierce, independent race of European and American emigrants, too hostile to the borderers on the seas to submit willingly to their laws and government, and perhaps too distant, numerous, and powerful, to subdue by arms.*
 It was the opinion of some of the American commissioners for negociating the treaty of peace, that the count de Vergennes was opposed to the claims of the United States in every stage of the business; not because, in equity, he thought they had no right to the fisheries, or the western lands, but from a general unfriendly disposition to America, and a reluctance to her being declared by Great Britain, an independent nation. But it is more probable that his cold, equivocal demeanor arose not so much from any personal disaffection to the people or to individuals, as from a desire to hold the Americans forever dependent on France. It was suggested by some, to be the policy of that nation, to endeavour to keep the United States as long as possible dependent on her aid and protection.
The political creed of monsieur de Vergennes is said to have been, that
it was absolutely necessary to hate the English . . . to cajole the Spaniards . . . not to hurt the Emperor. . . to live on good terms with Prussia . . . to gain over the Dutch . . . to protect the Turks . . . to respect  Rome . . . to support the infant republic of America . . . to subsidize Switzerland . . . and to inspect the conduct of the Colonies.
The French were indeed generally sensible, that most of the citizens of America spurned at all ideas of a dependence on any foreign power, after her emancipation from Britain. Yet they were jealous that many others felt so warmly prejudiced in favor of a nation from whom they derived their origin, that they little doubted of a renewal of the connexion with, or even a dependence again on, Great Britain, when the noise of war should cease, and the old habits of intercourse, so natural from consanguinity, language, and manners, should be reassumed. This jealousy was disseminated, and these apprehensions were expressed, by gentlemen of judgment and penetration throughout the kingdom of France, both in public and in private circles. Indeed it was the general opinion there, that a predilection in favor of England would supersede, in the American mind, a connexion with any other European power, as soon as recent injuries were forgotten, and the passions of men had subsided.
Time and opportunities afterwards evinced, that the most liberal sentiments toward America governed the French nation in general: it appeared by their conduct in many subsequent transactions, that there was very little to justify  the opinion, that the design of the nation was to hold the American colonies dependent on France, or even to continue the alliance but on terms of reciprocity and mutual advantage.
No national contracts ever yet bound mankind so firmly, as to not be shaken when they militate with personal or national interests: much less does a religious observance of treaties prevent their abandoning former obligations, when the balance of advantage is likely to be thrown into the hands of their foes.
From the jealousy of the French of the power and rivalry of the English nation, they might rationally infer, that if the old and natural connexion with the parent state should again be revived, it would cut off the many advantages they had promised themselves, from an irreparable breach between Great Britain and the colonies. Thus, some of the politicians in France judged this a reason sufficient for the most strenuous efforts in the ancient, hereditary enemy of Great Britain, to hold, and if possible to bind America by treaties, to conditions that might in some measure make her dependent on themselves; at least, these are reasons of policy: reasons of equity, when inconsistent with interest, are seldom to be found among statesmen  and politicians deputed to transact national affairs.
Among the many difficulties that occurred in the negociations for peace, the demands made in favor of the American loyalists, both by the British and the French ministry, were not the most easily accommodated of any of the impediments thrown in the way of conciliation. But on Mr. Oswald’s receiving a new commission from his court, soon after the count de Reyneval’s visit to England, negociations went forward, all difficulties were surmounted, and provisional articles of peace between Great Britain and America, were signed by both parties on the thirtieth of November, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two.
In the mean time, the pacific dispositions of the British cabinet were (as observed) announced to the commanders of their armies and fleets in America, and through them to congress, and the commander in chief of the troops of the United States. But though the ideas of peace were congenial to their wishes, and flattering to their hopes, they still considered that they had much to apprehend, before they could quietly sit down in the enjoyment of domestic felicity. The Americans on this intelligence, lost no part of their vigilance: they thought it more than ever necessary to be guarded at all points against the machinations and intrigues  of their enemies, the emissaries of Britain, and the rancor and violence of American refugees and loyalists. This description of persons were now, more than ever, embittered by the idea, that England was about to be reconciled to the colonies on their own terms, absolute and unconditional independence.
Their situation at that time, indeed, appeared to be hapless enough. The corps of provincial troops that had been exposed in the service of Britain, and had risked every thing during the war, expected now to be disbanded on the peace, when both officers and privates had little to hope from government, according to the provisional articles, and still less from their country.
According to the stipulations of the British negociators, the whole body of loyalists were left unprovided for any further, than by an engagement from the American commissioners, to suggest to congress and to urge in their behalf, a recommendation to the several legislatures of the United States. The purport of this recommendation was, a proposal that they would suffer such as had property, to return for a limited time, to endeavour to recover or re-purchase their confiscated estates. Twelve months was the time agreed upon by the commissioners, for the residence of the tories in their native provinces after the ratification of peace.
 Thus, abandoned by their friends, and cast on the mercy of their country, they had little lenity to expect from their countrymen, after a war of seven years, in which many of them had perpetrated every treacherous and cruel deed, to facilitate the subjugation of their native land, and to consign succeeding generations to the shackles of foreign domination. No prospect now appeared before them, but to decamp in hopeless poverty, and seek some unexplored asylum, far from the pleasant borders of their natal shores.
Instigated by despair and revenge, some of this class of people had recently given new proofs of their vindictive feelings, and new provocations to their countrymen. The most unjustifiable rigor, and the most outrageous cruelties, had been practiced on those who were so unfortunate as to fall into their hands. The story of one hapless victim will be a sufficient specimen of the atrocious length of villany, to which man may be prompted by disappointment and party rage.
The Associated Board of Loyalists at New York, impatient for the laurels they had expected to reap from the ruin of their neighbours, their country, and the cause of freedom; provoked at the desertion of their British patrons, and despairing of the triumph they had promised themselves in the complete success of the ministerial  troops, and the conquest of America by the arms of Britain; adopted the unjust and dangerous resolution, of avenging on individuals any thing which they deemed injurious to their partisans.
They said in their own vindication, and perhaps they had too much reason to allege, that the troops of congress, in many instances, had not been less sanguine than themselves, in the inflictions of summary punishment. Doubtless, both parties were far from exercising that lenity and forbearance toward their enemies, that both humanity and equity require. This was often made a pretext to justify enormities, and even private executions, at which compassion and virtue shudder.
Nothing of the kind had recently occasioned so much public observation, as the wanton murder of a captain Huddy, who, with some others, had been captured by a party of loyalists. He had been some time their prisoner, without any singular marks of resentment; but on the death of a man while a prisoner, killed by the guards from whom he was endeavouring to escape, Huddy was brought out of his cell, deliberately conveyed to the Jersey shore, and without a trial, or any crime alleged against him, he was in the most ludicrous manner hanged, amidst the shouts of his enemies, who exclaimed  at the solemn period of execution,— “Up goes Huddy, for Philip White.”
General Washington considered this transaction as too insolent and cruel to be passed over with impunity: it drew him into the painful resolution, by the advice of the principal officers of the army, to retaliate, by selecting some British prisoner of equal rank to suffer death, unless Lippencot, one of the associated loyalists, who commanded the execution of Huddy, was given up to justice. The designation of an innocent victim, to suffer death for the crime of an unprincipled murderer, is a circumstance from which the mind turns with horror; but according to the laws of war there was no receding from the determination, however severe might be the fate of him who was selected as the hapless victim.
General Washington previously demanded justice on the guilty perpetrators of the crime; but sir Henry Clinton and other officers to whom he represented the business, waved a compliance for some time, and appeared in some measure to justify the deed, by asserting that it was done only by way of example, to prevent similar enormities, which their partisans, the loyalists, said they had frequently experienced.
Several British officers of the same rank with Huddy, were prisoners in the American camp;  and, according to the denunciation made by the American to the British commander in chief, they were brought forward with great solemnity, and a lot cast for the sacrifice to be made to justice. This was done with much tenderness, sympathy, and delicacy; when the lot fell on captain Asgill of the guards, a young gentleman of education, accomplishments, and family expectations, who was only nineteen years of age. He was immediately ordered into close custody, until the trial and punishment of captain Lippencot should take place. But his trial was conducted with so much partiality and party acrimony, that Lippencot was acquitted. After this, sir Henry Clinton demanded the release of Asgill, as on a legal trial no guilt was affixed to the transaction of Lippencot.
This occasioned much uneasiness to general Washington and to others, who though fully convinced of the iniquity of the murderous party that procured the death of Huddy, yet they wished for the release of captain Asgill. Every humane bosom revolted at the idea of seeing a youth, whose character was in all respects fair and amiable, condemned to die instead of a wretch, whose hands stained with blood, and his heart hardened by repeated murder and crime, might have had an earlier claim to a halter.
 Great interest was made by many British officers, and by sir Guy Carleton himself, for the life and release of captain Asgill, but without effect. He remained a prisoner under the sentence of death, although execution was delayed, until every compassionate heart was relieved by the interference of maternal tenderness. The address of lady Asgill his mother, whose heart was wrung with agonizing fears for the fate of an only son, procured his release.
After the first pangs of grief and agitation, on the news of his critical and hazardous situation, had subsided, she wrote in the most pathetic terms to the count de Vergennes; urging that his influence with general Washington and the American congress might be exerted, to save an innocent and virtuous youth from an ignominious death, and restore the destined victim to the bosom of his mother. This letter, fraught with sentiments that discovered a delicate mind, an improved understanding, and a sensibility of heart, under the diction of polished style, and replete with strong epithets of affection, the French minister shewed to the king and queen of France, as a piece of elegant composition.
Though on a despotic throne, where the sovereign disposes of the subject by his fiat, and cuts off life at pleasure, without regret or hesitation,  the king of France and his royal partner were touched by the distress of this unhappy mother, and lent their interest for the liberation of her son. The count de Vergennes was directed to send the letter to general Washington; which he did, accompanied with the observations of the king and queen, and combined with his own request in favor of young Asgill.
The commander in chief was happy to transmit to congress, the several requests and observations, which he had reason to expect would relieve him from an affair that had embarrassed his mind, both as a man of humanity and the commander of an army. Congress immediately directed that captain Asgill should be liberated from imprisonment, and left at his own option to choose his future residence: on which, he took leave of the army and of America, and repaired to his friends in England.
The reply of general Washington, and the resolutions of congress, relative to granting a passport to Mr. Morgan, secretary to general Carleton, to go to Philadelphia, was not equally condescending. On his arrival at New York, sir Guy Carleton had requested, that he might be permitted to send on some letters of compliment  to congress. General Washington forwarded the request, which drew out a resolve of congress,—“That the commander in chief be hereby directed to refuse a compliance with the request of general Carleton, to grant a pass to Mr. Morgan to bring dispatches to Philadelphia.” It was also resolved, that no intercourse should be opened, or that any of the subjects of Great Britain should be permitted to pass or repass from the British to the American posts, while the provisional articles of peace were held in suspense.
This was not only a judicious, but a necessary precaution in the congress of the United States. At this period, a small circumstance of intelligence or information might have given a pretext to defeat a pending negociation for peace. The fleets and armies of Britain still kept their station in America; while the clashing interests of foreign nations, with regard to American claims, were not yet adjusted; and while the loyalists were clamorous and vindictive, watching the opportunity of impeding the present measures, which, if ratified, must leave them in a hopeless state of despondency: at the same time, it set their countrymen on a point of elevation, contrary to their predictions, their wishes, and their interests, which had prompted them to opposition, and for which they had hazarded their ease, their lives, and the friendship  and esteem of their former associates and friends. These people certainly had high claims of gratitude from the British government, for their unshaken loyalty, through the sharp conflict that severed the colonies from the dominion of Britain, and themselves from their native country forever.
C H A P T E R X X V I I
Discontents with the Provisional Articles • Mr. Hartley sent to Paris • The Definitive Treaty agreed to, and signed by all the Parties • A General Pacification among the Nations at War • Mr. Pitt, Prime Minister in England—His Attention to East India Affairs • Some subsequent Observations
chap. xxvii After provisional articles for peace had been agreed on at Paris, between the British and American commissioners,1782 the impatient curiosity of the British nation for a full communication of their contents, was inexpressible. The ultimate determinations with regard to the unconditional independence of America, were among the most interesting of their inquiries. But the necessity of concealing affairs of such national moment for a time, within a veil of secrecy, was urged by the ministry, as it would bring on discussions and objections, which might embarrass the work of peace. All ambiguity was opposed in the house of commons by several members, with no small degree of warmth; they insisted that no disguise ought to be used, but that the whole business should be laid open, before irretrievable stipulations should bind the nation to disadvantageous or dishonorary terms.  But when the general tenor of the provisional articles was made known, it was far from restoring tranquillity or harmonizing the several parties.
The general dissatisfaction expressed by persons of high rank and consideration, against both the provisional articles with America and the preliminary articles for peace with France, Spain, and Holland, which now lay under consideration, was so great, that many began to be alarmed, lest all pacific measures should be set afloat, and the hope of tranquillity which had dawned upon the nations might yet finally be defeated.
Some of the first characters in the cabinet, the parliament, and the nation, discovered the most singular disgust and uneasiness at the proposed articles of accommodation, and debate and contention ran high in both houses of parliament. The lords Walsingham, Stormont, Sackville, Carlisle, and others, were violent in their opposition to the whole system of peace comprised in the provisional articles: they thought the character of the nation tarnished, in the concession made by the negociators on the part of Britain, in favor of the revolted colonies; whose obstinacy had involved the crown and the kingdom in distresses incalculable, but that the nation was not yet so reduced as to submit to a mean dereliction of their  rights: they asserted that they had yet an army, a navy, and resources sufficient to chastise the insolence of the house of Bourbon. It was observed, that though the councils of France had upheld the revolted colonies, in opposition to the power of Britain, and now justified their bold demands, that the combined fleets of France and Spain had recently felt the superiority, and fled from the power, of the British flag.
It was not passed over in silence, that all hearts had lately been warmed by their gallant conduct, and every tongue loud in the applauses of the magnanimous officers who had defended Gibraltar: that the house of commons had expressed their gratitude by a vote of thanks to governor Elliot and general Boyde, for the astonishing example of courage, patriotism, and patient suffering, which they had displayed, in the vigorous defence of a fortress devoted to destruction by a most formidable foe; that the navy had contributed its full share in this glorious success, and that the just thanks of the nation had been offered to lords Howe, Rodney, and others, who were still ready for the most gallant defence of all the claims of England, against the combined fleets of France, Spain, and the world.
In short, the sum of their declamations were, that the proud glory of conquest, which had so  often perched on the helmet of British officers, was not, by the dash of an inexperienced pen,* to be meanly prostrated to obtain a peace, either from old hereditary enemies, or the pertinacity and refractory conduct of their own offspring in the colonies.
Little delicacy was observed. Mr. Oswald’s abilities for the business of a negociator were highly ridiculed: many objections were made, and copiously dwelt on by the orators in the British parliament, with regard to the pending articles; particularly, on the right to the fisheries, on the boundaries of the United States, the free navigation of the Mississippi, and the forlorn condition of those Americans who had been attached to the crown from the beginning of the contest. Their friends asserted, that the abandoning the loyalists, and consigning them over to the cold recommendation of the American congress, only on the promise of their commissioners that their situation should be considered by the several legislatures, and that the legislative powers should advise to a placable spirit, and urge the people to forgiveness, was a fallacious security on which no reliance could be placed. It was observed, that the commissioners themselves could not expect that such a measure would succeed; they knew too  well, that this class of men were considered in America, as a ten-fold more inveterate foe than any of the native sons of Britain.
The proposal of their return to and residence in the United States for a limited term, was viewed by gentlemen of the first penetration as a chimerical project: they were too well acquainted with human nature to imagine, that this description of persons would be received by them, when they knew, that “the Americans in general would consider it as taking a viper into their bosoms, whose nature could not be altered, and however well fed, its benefactor could not be secured from its sting.”
The neglect of stipulations in favor of a class of people who had forsaken their country, lost their property, and risked their lives in the field, from their attachment to the British crown, and their fondness for the government of England, was styled criminal in every view; it was asserted that it was marked with cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude.
Doubtless, many of the advocates of the loyalists in the British parliament, argued from what they thought the principles of rectitude, rather than from the prejudices of party; and could those principles alone have had their full operation in the minds of men, notwithstanding past provocations, it might have been the  policy of the Americans at this period, to have laid aside their prejudices. At the same time, it would have exemplified their benevolence to have forgiven, cherished, and secured the friendship of a large body of people, instead of perpetuating an alienation, and transmitting it from sire to son, through successive generations. But it was the indispensable duty of the British government, to protect and to compensate. This they afterwards did in some instances, in a very ample manner; but many of this unfortunate class were exposed to sufferings which they had never contemplated, when they forsook their neighbours, their relations, and their families, for the precarious hope of better fortune from the oppressors of their country.
These and other circumstances shook the minister in his place; he felt he did not stand on very firm ground, however recently encircled by favoritism, though at the summit of power, and still the bubble of popularity; the gale was about to pass off, and leave him in private life, the sport of change, but not in the quietude of retirement. The rivals of lord Shelburne were powerful, his enemies subtil and sagacious; and the inconsistency which appeared in his principles relative to the independence of America, gave them a fair occasion to  discuss his opinions, and to displace him from office.
Desirous as was Mr. Fox and some other gentlemen, for a happy accommodation with America, and a happy termination of war with all the nations, they spurned at several of the proposed articles of peace: and singular as it may appear, the consequence of the present fermentation was a second coalition, composed of still more jarring atoms than the first . . . the leopard was indeed to lie down with the lamb.
Notwithstanding their former disagreement in opinion, their rancor and bitterness on many occasions; antipodes in political sentiment, with regard to the prerogative of the crown, the majesty of the people, and the American war; a strange connexion took place, viewed by the nation as a kind of political phenomenon. Lord North and Mr. Fox were seen acting together in administration, in conjunction with the lords Cavendish and Stormont, Keppel and Carlisle. The duke of Portland was appointed first lord of the treasury in the room of lord Shelburne, who had enjoyed little tranquillity in that elevated station. The reputation of neither party was much enhanced by the coalition; it created a general suspicion of the patriotism of both; and both were considered as acting a part for the gratification of their own  interests and passions, rather than from a regard to the public welfare.
Mr. Fox was reproached with forsaking his former friends, and assimilating his character and his attachment, as conveniency required, to the politics of the day. To this he replied, that “for the painful losses he had experienced in his friendships, he must find a consolation in the purity and consistency of his intentions, and that rectitude of design which had ever been his guide in his political career.”
While the general expectation of re-sheathing the sword had spread a humane satisfaction over the countenances of many in Europe and in America, the minds of the contemplative and sagacious characters in the United States were filled with anxiety, on the variety of difficulties which lay before them. They anticipated the impracticability of disbanding an army become discontented from deficiencies in payment: they saw the impossibility of a speedy discharge of the public debt: of defraying the expenses of a long war, and paying up the arrearages due to the soldiery, who had bravely borne the toils of the field, amidst poverty, hunger, danger, and death. They were too well acquainted with human nature to expect, that a people who had been so long in such a perturbed state should sit down in tranquillity and order, until some necessary arrangements  for the operations of a free, yet energetic government, should be established. This they considered, in the situation of their country, a work that required the talents of the most able statesmen, and the virtues of the most disinterested patriots, to digest. The jarring interests of the states and of individuals, and their dissonant opinions of forms and modes of government, might prevent the adoption of the best that could be suggested, and create jealousies and ferments that might terminate in domestic confusion and war, until anarchy or despotism should succeed.
In addition to all other difficulties apprehended by speculative and judicious Americans, previous to the provisional articles terminating in a definitive treaty of peace, they dreaded the idea of a large body of loyalists left by Great Britain, to make terms of reconciliation with their offended countrymen.
It was a very precarious hope on which these refugees had to build: they had little reason (as observed) to expect the resentment of a whole people would be annihilated, merely by the recommendation of the American agents: they could not but be sensible, that if the governing powers were mollified, and should recommend moderation and forbearance, yet the mutual injuries and affronts between individuals and families, in consequence of political dissonance,  would not be likely to lie dormant, but would be brought back to recollection on every trivial occasion. It was to be expected that old animosities would be raked open, that would forever disturb the peace of society, when they took their stand beside their injured neighbours, weeping the loss of a father, a husband, or a son, who had perished in the dreadful conflict, many of them by the hands of a class of men now thrown back on their wounded feelings.
In the mean time the business of negociation went forward among the belligerent powers: some new arrangements were made: Mr. Hartley was sent to Paris, whose commission superseded that of Mr. Oswald. We have seen that Mr. John Adams had left Holland, and joined the plenipotentiaries of the United States, previous to the agreement on provisional articles for peace, signed November, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two. He was no favorite of the officers and administrators of affairs at the Gallican court; his manners were not adapted to render him acceptable in that refined and polished nation; nor did he appear to have much partiality for, or confidence in them. But firm to the interests of his country, and tenacious of its claims, he advocated and defended them with ability; and by his determined spirit, was essentially serviceable  in maintaining the stipulations required in behalf of the United States.
Nor was Mr. Jay less strenuous or indefatigable, to counteract every thing he thought might militate with the interest of America. He invalidated difficulties as they arose, with the accuracy of the statesman, and obviated every objection to just and equal advantages, in the treaty which his countrymen required. Dr. Franklin’s known attachment to the interest of the United States, and his conspicuous talents as a negociator, preclude the necessity of any observations on his abilities, his character, or his conduct.
It has been before observed, that congress had inadvertently endeavoured to fetter their agents, by directing them to be under the councils of France, rather too much for a free and independent nation. These gentlemen considered such restrictions dishonorary to themselves and their country; and by their vigor, zeal, and address, acted, through every stage of the business, as the agents of a free nation, not to be influenced by foreign considerations or councils.
Near ten months elapsed, after signing the provisional articles, before the definitive treaty was completed. Previous to the adjustment of all the articles contained in this treaty, much  address, altercation, intrigue, and finesse, among the parties, as is usual on similar occasions, was intermixed with fair negociation. All preliminaries at length agreed to, this important instrument was signed at Paris on the third of September, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three.
David Hartley, esquire, on the part of Great Britain, and Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and John Adams, esquires, in behalf of America, affixed their names and their seals to the treaty for the restoration of harmony between Britain, the ancient potent parent, and the emancipated colonies, and sent it forward for the ratification of congress, and of the British parliament.
The definitive treaty between Great Britain and the United States contained only nine articles. The first of these was a full and complete acknowledgment of the independence of America. His Britannic Majesty, in article first,
acknowledges the United States, viz. New Hampshire, Massachusetts Bay, Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, to be Free, Sovereign, and Independent States; that he treats with them as such; and for himself, his heirs, and successors, relinquishes all claim  to the government, property, and territorial rights of the same, and every part thereof.*
On the same day, the third of September, the definitive treaty between Great Britain and France was signed at Versailles, by the duke of Manchester in behalf of the king of England, and on the part of France by the count de Vergennes.
The count de Aranda and the duke of Manchester mutually exchanged their seals for the happy event of peace between England and Spain. The definitive treaty of peace and friendship between his Britannic majesty and the king of Spain, was also signed at Versailles the third day of September, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three.
All impediments that barred the accommodation between England and Holland had been removed, and peace and harmony restored between his Britannic majesty and the states-general of the United Provinces. Preliminary articles for this purpose were adjusted and signed at Paris by the ministers of the respective courts, on the second of September, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three.
 The king of Sweden had invited a treaty of amity and commerce with America, in a very handsome, complimentary manner. He observed, that he was “desirous of forming a connexion with a people who had so well established their independence, and who, by their wisdom and bravery, so well deserved it.” This treaty had been signed the third of April, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, and a stipulation made for its continuance for the term of fifteen years, before any revision or renewal should take place.
Denmark ordered the American flag to be treated like that of republics of the first order. Indeed, after the independence of the United States was explicitly acknowledged by the king of Great Britain, most of the European nations were, or appeared to be, fond of forming connexions with a young, growing republic. The independent rank of America was now viewed in connexion with her prolific soil, abundant resources, commercial genius, and political principles, which indicated her rising into eminence and consideration, that would set her on a footing with any nation on earth, if she did not become corrupted by foreign vices, or sunk by the indulgence of her own foolish passions.
The Batavian republic was the first nation beyond the Atlantic, after the French, who sent  an envoy in form to the congress of America. On the thirty-first of October, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, Peter John Van Berkel was received by them, as minister plenipotentiary from the states-general of the United Netherlands. By the president and members of congress, every mark of respect, cordiality, and friendship, was shewn; and on the other side it was amply returned, by the address and politeness of the Dutch minister; who, with manly eloquence and grace, addressed that venerable body, and expressed his own regard and the esteem of his constituents, for the citizens of the United States. In the president’s reply, he acknowledged the high sense Americans had of the importance of the alliance, and the gratitude they all felt for the services rendered the United States by individuals of his nation, and particularly by himself and family, previous to the completion of the late treaty.
Thus, after the horrors of war had shed their baneful influence over the nations, without cessation, for seven or eight years; and after the havoc of human life had, as usual, displayed the absurdity of mankind, in the delight they seem to discover in the destruction of their own species; a truce to the miseries of the inhabitants of the earth, on one side of the globe, was promised for a season. Though the nations had been long engaged in war, peace seemed now to lift up her declined head, and promise a  general tranquillity. Her advances were made across the Atlantic; yet no official accounts were received by congress, that a definitive treaty had been signed by the ministers of the several belligerent powers, until the conclusion of the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three.
It has already been observed, that the provisional and preliminary articles for a general pacification among the contending powers, had been signed at Paris, November the twenty-ninth, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two; but the completion of the definitive treaty, productive of a general peace, was not agreed to until the succeeding autumn; when, as related above, the signatures and seals of the commissioners on all sides, were affixed to the several stipulated articles, and the world relieved from a long constrained situation of mind, between hope, expectation, and fear.
Yet the intelligence of the spring of one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, had been equally impressive in the American army, as if peace had actually been proclaimed by sound of trumpet. Nor was it strange that the military departments, nor indeed that all the inhabitants of the United States, should feel the same impression. The intelligence of the present prospects of a complete accommodation of existing differences, was accompanied with  private as well as public letters from Mr. Adams, Mr. Jay, and other distinguished Americans, replete with the strongest assurances, that hostilities would not be recommenced; and that the fleets and armies of Great Britain would, in a few months, be withdrawn from the ports and cities of the United States.
But there was yet much to be done on both sides of the water. It could not be expected, that after a convulsion of such magnitude, that the American officers and soldiers could at once retire, and sit down quietly, each under his own vine and fig-tree; or that the turbulent spirit of hostile nations could in a moment be tranquillized; much less, that the pride of the British ministry and parliament should suffer them to settle down in tranquil repose among themselves, after the long series of mortification, discontent, and disunion, that had embittered every department, and almost every individual against the political opinions of his neighbour, and the civil and political administration of the affairs of his country.
The preliminary and provisional articles had terminated in a definitive treaty of peace: in this, the general sense of the nation, and the wishes of the people were gratified. Yet there were still sources of discontent sufficient to indicate, that the present ministry stood on slippery ground.
 Lord North had been long unpopular: Mr. Fox had many and potent enemies; but, “naturally of a comprehensive mind, and constitutionally fraught with good humor and general kindness, the field of popular applause seemed to be perfectly congenial to him.” But he had a powerful rival in a son of the late favorite of the nation, lord Chatham. This young gentleman had in a remarkable manner, won the favor of his sovereign and the hearts of the people: on many interesting questions he had argued on the popular side, and had gained an ascendency that promised eminence, celebrity, and station, in the first grade of office and influence.
He was among the most strenuous advocates for a reform in parliament: he was zealous for a commercial treaty with the United States, and ridiculed the language, the conduct, and the impediments thrown in the way; and condemned the regulations and restrictions on the American trade, which, he observed, must forever keep open the door of animosity between the two countries.
Nor did he less oppose and ridicule the India bill, so much the subject of investigation and discussion, introduced by Mr. Fox, and rejected by a majority of the house of lords. But the confusions and distractions in the East Indies, required that some energetic and wise measures  should be immediately adopted, to reform abuses, and to restore justice and peace in that oppressed country. This produced a second India bill, brought forward by Mr. Pitt himself, which was also rejected, and the door still left open for much contention and debate, relative to the affairs of India, and the distresses of the unhappy inhabitants.
Thus animosities were kindled among the first characters in the nation, and discontents fomented until every thing verged to the extreme of disunion. “It was impossible for Mr. Fox to do any thing in a cold, uninterested, or indifferent manner; he therefore always went considerable lengths for the attainment of his object.” But he finally lost ground, and left his rival to wave his laurels triumphantly in the field of party, and the favor of his king.
The fluctuation of office, and the changes in administration, had been so frequent in the present reign, that it was viewed as a thing of course, on every dispute or variation of opinion on great political questions. From the accession of George the third, in one thousand seven hundred and sixty-one, to one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, when lord Shelburne came in, there had been many different hands who had taken the helm at the head of the  ministry, and set the political bark afloat in a tempest, without the ability to recover and moor it in the haven of peace.
In these circumstances, and at this critical period, Mr. William Pitt, in the fire of youth, in the pride of brilliant talents, and with the ambition, if not the hereditary capacity, of the aged statesman, was appointed chancellor of the exchequer. Tenacious of his own character, he held the high office in spite of opposition or flattery; and so perseveringly stood his ground, and held the reins of power so long, that his friends ceased to fear his removal, and his enemies at last despaired of carrying any point against a minister, that was become at once a favorite both of the prince and the people.
Notwithstanding the abilities of the new minister, and the exertions of some of his predecessors, now out of place; notwithstanding a pacification had recently taken place among the European powers; Great Britain was still tottering under the enormous expenses of the late war, and her own internal dissensions on subjects of magnitude and importance. Men of the first abilities and information, were wide in opinion, and divided on every political point; the spirit of party was heightened, and produced continual altercation in parliament, on the conduct, projects, and character, of the young minister.  Supported by royal favor, and sufficiently conscious of his own talents, he was not borne down by any opposition. It was soon perceptible, that the embarrassments of government, the derangement in political, commercial, domestic, and foreign affairs, still required much energy and decision, and perhaps the capacity of older and more experienced statesmen.
The cruel mismanagement in the East Indies interested the whole nation. The derangement and distraction of their affairs there, the enormities committed, and the tragical scenes of barbarity perpetrated, under the presidency of Warren Hastings, governor general of Bengal, which reduced the country to the extreme of penury and misery, were afterwards copiously displayed and amply detailed, in his long protracted trial. This finally terminated without decision on delinquency, or satisfaction to the public.
The dreadful famine in Calcutta, in one thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine, is well known: that which succeeded it in one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one was still more deplorable, when 14,000 persons died weekly, of hunger, at Madras; while the provinces of Oude and Benares suffered in equal degree, under the same calamity, brought on by means which will never be blotted from  the memory of man.* These were too complicated and diffuse for a place here, but some cursory observations on the conduct of British officers in that country, may be admitted.
A specimen of the tragedy acted by general Matthews at Onore, where he directed no quarter should be given, but every man be put to the sword, will be impressive from an extract of a letter from one of his own officers. He observed, that
The carnage was great; we trampled thick on the dead bodies that were strewed in the way: it was rather shocking to humanity, but such are only secondary considerations; and to a soldier whose bosom glows with heroic glory, they are thought accidents of course: his zeal makes him aspire after further victory.
 What a perversion of just ideas! The true glory of man is benignity and kindness to his fellow-mortals; nor can even military glory be enhanced by the triumphant butchery of mankind. But the same cruel apathy expressed by one of them, seemed to pervade most of the officers on this expedition: the riches and splendor of the peninsula, and the extermination of the inhabitants that they might possess their wealth, seemed to be the only object.
From Onore, general Matthews proceeded to Hydernagur, the capital of Canara. It is true, by astonishing feats of valor, he reached the metropolis, where the wealth of the inhabitants was immense. The place was surrendered by capitulation; the general possessed of the treasure, and no distribution made. The avarice of the officers to obtain their full share of the plunder, raised murmur and mutiny that were not easily quieted; nor was it ever ascertained, in whose coffers the whole was finally deposited.
Before general Matthews returned to Bombay, he sent a detachment from Hydernagur to Annanpour, under the command of major Campbell; the orders were for a storm and no quarter. The cruel mandates were received with alacrity, and put in execution without delay: every man in the place was put to the sword, except one horseman, who escaped after being wounded in three different places. The  women, unwilling to be separated from their relations, or exposed to the brutal licentiousness of the soldiery, threw themselves in multitudes into the moats with which the fort was surrounded. Four hundred beautiful young women, pierced with the bayonet, and expiring in each other’s arms, were in this situation treated by the British with every kind of outrage. The avenging hand of justice soon overtook the barbarous, butchering Matthews; he fell into the hands of Tippoo Saib, after that victorious commander had re-captured Hydernagur, was loaded with chains, imprisoned, and soon after put to death by his orders.*
For a further detail of the enormities committed by the servants of Britain, and the sufferings of the inhabitants of India for a number of years, without mitigation, the reader is referred to the history of that unfortunate country. There he will find a description of a great part of this garden of nature, whose prolific shoots have expanded over the four quarters of the globe, few of whose inhabitants have yet arrived to a perfect knowledge of the arts, the ingenuity, the sciences, contained in their Shanscript and other languages.
 Indeed, new discoveries have been recently brought to light, by the investigation of learned and virtuous Englishmen; who, while pursuing their inquiries, weep to behold so fair a spot of creation† bathed in the blood of its native sons, by the hands of a nation who boast higher degrees of civilization, without possessing their simplicity, urbanity, and perhaps their knowledge. But their progress in the arts, their histories of the first progenitors of mankind, their astronomical discoveries, and their knowledge of nature and its operations, must now lay buried with the wreck of their fortunes, and many of them enveloped in the rubbish of complete ruin, brought on them by European avarice and ambition.
But a correction of some abuses in India, took place early in the administration of Mr. Pitt: new regulations were adopted; and critical inquiry made into the conduct of the East India  company, and their officers: several of the old officers of government were removed, and men of more humanity sent forward in their places. Among them, sir William Jones was appointed one of the judges of the supreme court of judicature. The character of this gentleman deserves every encomium: from his writings and the testimony of contemporaries, he was an honor to his country, a benefactor to mankind, and an ornament to the world. His elegant manners, profound erudition, pure morals, and strict justice, were conspicuous in all the transactions of his life. The deep researches of sir William Jones in ancient oriental history, have thrown great light on the customs, manners, habits, and the various religions among the Indians, both ancient and modern. His learned labor must undoubtedly tend to improvements in science, and the culture of virtue and true religion, through the enlightened parts of the world; and perhaps to soften and humanize the hearts of his own countrymen, in their future unwarrantable invasions of the inhabitants of the East.
The English are, indeed, an astonishing nation. Though frequently involved in hostilities with half the world; confounded by the immensity of their own national debt, accumulating almost beyond calculation; plunged in luxury and venality; their manners and their constitution  corrupted; yet, by their extensive commerce, the strength of their navy, their valor, their genius, and their industry, they surmount all embarrassments with address and facility, and rise superior to evils that would augur the downfall of any other nation on earth.
No country has produced men more learned and liberal, of more comprehensive genius, virtue, and real excellence, than England; yet the contrast may as justly be exhibited there, as in any part of the world. But the balance of real merit, both individual and national, must be left to the all-pervading eye, which, with a single glance, surveys the moral and intellectual system of creation. We now leave them to the rotations of time, and the re-action of human events, to the period which shall be pointed by the providential government of him, to whom a thousand years are as one day; when they also may be viewed a spectacle of wo, by the remnant of nations, annihilated by their rapacity, ambition, and victorious arms.
Let us hasten to turn our eyes from the miserable Mahrattas, the desolated tribes of Indostan, and the naked Carnatic,* divested of every thing that had breathed, by the ravages of a  relentless foe. A dead and dreary silence reigns over an extent of five or six hundred miles of these once full peopled plains. Nor will we dwell longer on any of the proud projects of conquest in the cabinet of Great Britain, either in the East or the West; but carry the mind forward, and indulge a pleasing anticipation of peace and independence to the United States of America.
C H A P T E R X X V I I I
Peace proclaimed in America • General Carleton delays the Withdraw of the Troops from New York • Situation of the Loyalists—-Efforts in their Favor by some Gentlemen in Parliament—Their final Destination—Their Dissatisfaction, and subsequent Conduct
chap. xxviii The discordant sounds of war that had long grated the ears of the children of America, were now suspended, and the benign and heavenly voice of harmony soothed their wounded feelings,1783 and they flattered themselves the dread summons to slaughter and death would not again resound on their shores. The independence of America acknowledged by the first powers in Europe, and even Great Britain willing to re-sheathe the sword on the same honorable terms for the United States, every prospect of tranquillity appeared.
These were events for which the statesman had sighed in the arduous exertions of the cabinet; for which the hero had bared his breast, and the blood of the citizens had flowed in copious streams on the borders of the Atlantic, from the river St. Mary’s to the St. Croix, on the eastern extreme of the American territory. Peace was proclaimed in the American army,  by order of the commander in chief, on the nineteenth of April, one thousand seven hundred eighty-three. This was just eight years from the memorable day, when the first blood was drawn in the contest between the American colonies and the parent state, in the fields of Concord and Lexington.
The operation and consequences of the restoration of peace, were now the subject of contemplation. This opened objects of magnitude indeed, to a young republic, which had rapidly passed through the grades of youth and puberty, and was fast arriving to the age of maturity: a republic consisting of a number of confederated states, which by this time had received many as inhabitants, who were not originally from the stock of England. Some of them, indeed, were from more free governments, but others had fled from the slavery of despotic courts; from their numbers and abilities they had become respectable, and their opinions weighty in the political scale. From these and other circumstances it might be expected, that in time, the general enthusiasm for a republican system of government in America, might languish, and new theories be adopted, or old ones modified under different names and terms, until the darling system of  the inhabitants of the United States, might be lost or forgotten in a growing rabiosity for monarchy.
Symptoms of this nature, already began to appear in the language of some interested and ambitious men, who endeavoured to confound ideas, and darken opinion, by asserting that republicanism was an indefinite term. In social circles they frequently insinuated, that no precise meaning could be affixed to a word, by which the people were often deceived and led to pursue a shadow instead of an object of any real stability. This was indeed, more the language of art than principle, and seemed to augur the decline of public virtue in a free state.
It required the utmost vigilance to guard against, and counteract designs thus secretly covered. It was not unexpected by the judicious observers of human conduct, that many contingencies might arise, to defeat or to render fruitless the efforts that had been made on the practicability of erecting and maintaining a pure, unadulterated, republican government.
Time must unfold the futility of such an expectation, or establish the system on a basis, that will lead mankind to rejoice in the success of an experiment that has been too often tried in vain. Those who have been nurtured in  the dark regions of despotism, who have witnessed the sale of the peasantry with the glebe they have cultivated from infancy, and who have seen the fire and the son, transferred with the stables and the cattle, from master to master, cannot realize the success of a theory that has a tendency to exalt the species, and elevate the lower grades of mankind to a condition nearer to an equality with adventitious superiority. It is not wonderful, that a people of this description and education, should be incredulous of the utility of more free modes of government. They are naturally tenacious of old customs, habits, and their own fortuitous advantages; they are unable to form an idea of general freedom among mankind, without distinction of ranks that elevate one class of men to the summit of pride and insolence, and sink another to the lowest grade of servility and debasement.
But Americans born under no feudal tenure, nurtured in the bosom of mediocrity, educated in the schools of freedom; who have never been used to look up to any lord of the soil, as having a right by prescription, habit, or hereditary claim, to the property of their flocks, their herds, and their pastures, may easily have been supposed to have grown to maturity with very different ideas, and with a disposition to  defend their allodial inheritance to the last moment of their lives.
The United States of America, however, had yet many matters of the highest importance to adjust. They had many descriptions of persons to quiet, and many circumstances connected with foreign nations that required diplomatic discussion, particularly with regard to the laws of trade and the regulation of commerce, both at home and abroad, before a stable form of government could either be adopted or organized. The army was not yet disbanded, and a powerful body of loyalists were retarding the completion of some of the articles in the treaty of peace, and embarrassing the commander in chief of the British army, by their murmurs and discontents.
When sir Henry Clinton was recalled from the command of the king’s forces in America, he was succeeded by sir Guy Carleton, who was vested with a very extensive commission. He had the direction and government of all military affairs in Canada, New-York, and wherever else the crown of England claimed any stand in the United States.
According to the articles of the definitive treaty, all the posts held by the troops of his Britannic majesty within the territories of the  United States, were to be immediately evacuated; and on the certitude of a general accommodation, every British and Hessian soldier was to be drawn off and retire from the continent. But a delay took place, which, in some instances, we shall see was fatal to the peace of the United States.
The British troops still occupied New-York, though by treaty it was to have been relinquished on the declaration of peace. It is true, however, that general Carleton had usually conducted with great politeness both towards Congress and the commander in chief of the armies of the United States; but he was himself embarrassed between his duty and his honour.
The reasons for staying longer at New-York than was stipulated by treaty, were not grounded on mere plausible pretence. The principal argument offered by him for a non-compliance with orders, and delaying the expectations of the Americans, was the obligation he thought Great Britain under, to protect the loyalists. At the same time, his own mind was impressed with the necessity and justice of aid and support to a body of hapless men, “who ought not be thrown by as an useless garment, when administration no longer needed the  assistance of disaffected Americans and refugees.”
Whether wholly influenced by compassion towards the loyalists, or whether stimulated by political reasons in the cabinet of his court, general Carleton did not appear to shew any extraordinary degree of moderation, in consequence of the delay. Several months after the proclamation for peace, general Carleton wrote the president* of the congress of the United States, that he wished to accelerate his orders to evacuate New York; and that “he should lose no time, as far as depended upon him, to fulfil his majesty’s commands, but that the difficulty of assigning the precise period for this event, is of late greatly increased.”
He complained in this letter, that the violence of the Americans, which broke out soon after the cessation of hostilities, increased the number of their countrymen who looked to him, for escape from threatened destruction: and that these terrors had of late been so considerably augmented, that almost all within the lines, conceived the safety, both of their property and their lives, depended upon being removed by him, which rendered it impossible to say, when the evacuation could be completed. He said,
whether  they had just grounds to assert, that there was either no government within the limits of the American territory, for common protection, or that it secretly favoured the committees, in the sovereignty they assume and are actually exercising, he should not pretend to determine.
He observed, that
as the public papers furnished repeated proofs, not only of a disregard to the articles of peace, but contained barbarous menaces from committees formed in various towns, cities, and districts, and even at Philadelphia, the very place which the congress had chosen for their residence; that he should show an indifference to the feelings of humanity, as well as to the honour and interest of the nation whom he served, to leave any of the loyalists, that are desirous to quit the country, a prey to the violence, they conceive they have so much cause to apprehend.
He intimated that congress might learn from his letter, how much depended upon themselves and the subordinate legislatures, to facilitate the service he was commanded to perform; that they might abate the fears and lessen the number of the emigrants. But should these fears continue, and compel such multitudes to remove, he should hold himself acquitted  from every delay in fulfilling his orders, and the consequences which may result therefrom. He also added, that
it made no small part of his concern, that the congress had thought proper to suspend, to so late an hour, recommendations stipulated by the treaty, and in the punctual performance of which, the king and his ministers had expressed such entire confidence.
This letter was considered by congress, the officers of the army, and the people in general, as evasive, if not affrontive; and taught them the necessity of standing on their guard, and holding their arms in their hands, until the removal of all hostile appearances, the entire evacuation of New-York, and until the fleets of his Britannic majesty were withdrawn from the American seas.
The loyalists were still very numerous in the city, though some of them had dispersed themselves in despair, to seek an asylum without much dependence on government. Their situation was indeed truly deplorable; they had every thing to fear if the British troops withdrew and left them to the clemency of their countrymen now elated by success, and more hardened against the feelings of humanity, by the cruel scenes of war they had witnessed.
 The conduct of the American refugees had been such from the commencement of hostilities, that they could not but be conscious, as expressed by a celebrated American patriot,* that “they were responsible for all the additional blood that had been spilt by the addition of their weight in the scale of the enemy.” He observed,
they were sensible they could never regain the confidence of their late fellow-subjects, whose very looks must confound and abash men, who in defiance of nature and education, have not only by a reversed ambition, chosen bondage before freedom, but waged an infernal war against their nearest connexions, for not making the like abhorred election.
Every one will readily conceive, that these people at this time, were really in a distressed situation. Their own ideas of the improbability of harmony and quiet, even if permitted to return to the bosom of their country, comported with the above observations. These were strongly expressed in a memorial to the British secretary of state, forwarded by them soon after the definitive treaty.
In this memorial they observe,
that the personal animosities that arose from civil dissensions, had been heightened by the blood  that had been shed, to such a degree that the two parties could never be reconciled. They therefore prayed, that they might have an assignment of lands, and assistance from the crown, to make settlements for themselves and families.
The experiment of this intermixture and reunion of heterogeneous characters, had not yet been tried; but from the temper of the people throughout the continent, there did not appear to be any great probability, that the recommendation of congress to the legislative bodies, would disarm the resentment, or eradicate the painful ideas that the presence of American refugees would revive. The minds of many had suffered too much in their persons or connexions, from such as they thought ought to have assisted in the struggle for the independence of their country, to be healed in a moment.
It is beyond a doubt that there was little conciliatory feeling on either side; so far from it, the vanquished in New-York were threatened with severe vengeance by one party, while the other poured out the most bitter expressions of resentment against the congress and the people of America, now rejoicing in the success of their own arms. This temper was far from justifiable: it was neither acting as  wise politicians, or real christians; but it was the natural ebullition of injured and provoked human nature, which too seldom pays the strictest regard to national faith, honor, or moral precept, when passion has been wrought up beyond a certain degree of forbearance.
It is matter of wonder, that the whole class of loyalists, though disarmed of power, were so imprudent as not to discover any disposition to harmonize with, or a wish to conciliate the affections of their former friends and associates. They expressed their rancor on all occasions, and when assured that the definitive treaty was actually signed, they broke out into the most violent paroxysms of rage and disappointment. Epithets of the most indecent and vindictive nature often fell from their lips, and increased the general disgust planted in the bosoms of their countrymen from their first defection from the American cause.
The recent outrages that had been committed, sanctioned by orders from the Associated Board of Loyalists, as they styled themselves, had given reason to apprehend that a spirit of revenge would be excited, that might preclude all lenity and forbearance in the minds of those citizens who had been pillaged, insulted, and abused. It was justly apprehended, that the unhoused mourners for fathers, brothers, or  beloved sons, betrayed into the hands of pitiless enemies by this description of persons, could not readily forgive.
In order to check this rancorous spirit, or rather to lessen the influence of such an invidious temper, and prevent the fatal effects that might on both sides arise from its indulgence, general Carleton soon after his arrival at New York, had directed the dissolution of the society, and forbidden any more meetings as an associated body, under any name or form. But he considered the situation of this class, more particularly those who had been active members of the Board of Associated Loyalists, as too hazardous to desert at the present moment. It has been observed, that he thought it his indispensable duty to reside in the city, and to retain the British troops for a time, for the protection of all the unhappy people under the description of tories or loyalists. He therefore waited until some arrangements and proper provisions could be made for their subsistence.
Notwithstanding the British negociators had been obliged to leave them in a very indeterminate situation, or recede from the negociations for peace, great attention had been paid to this description of persons in the debates of the British parliament. Sir Adam Ferguson had  suggested, some time before the peace, in the course of debate, that they ought to be divided into three classes;
first, those who had early taken arms in the cause of Britain; secondly, those who had fled to England with their families; lastly, those who had continued at home, and did not act, or style themselves loyalists until the king’s troops called them out to express their opinions, by personally acting against the Americans.
He said, that “a discrimination ought to be made, and that they should be rewarded according to their merits and sufferings.”
This discrimination was attended with difficulty; but every one thought that government was under obligations to each of these classes that could not be winked out of sight; but they all had claims of consideration and compensation, for their efforts to support the measures of parliament, if not for any essential services rendered to the crown.
Many noblemen were zealous that suitable provision should be made for the American loyalists of all descriptions, and no one appeared more interested in their favor than lord Shelburne. In consequence of this, some arrangements were made for their establishment, and an apportionment of lands assigned them in the province of Nova Scotia. They were there assisted  by the British government, to erect a town, which was incorporated by the name of Shelburne, and patronized by his lordship. But it was a sterile spot, and many of them took better ground for themselves at New Brunswick, St. John’s, and other parts of Nova Scotia, Canada, and within the limits of any part of the American territory yet claimed by Great-Britain.
The officers of the provincial corps were allowed half pay for life, but notwithstanding any partial compensations made to the loyalists by the British government, their situation in every view was truly pitiable. Many of them had been long separated from their families and tenderest connexions; they had flattered themselves with the hope of returning in very different circumstances at the conclusion of a war, which they had expected would much sooner have terminated, and have terminated in a manner, equal to their sanguine ideas of the irresistible arm of Britain.
The most exalted opinion of the strength and power of that nation, a reverential attachment to the monarch, and the fond influence of old habits of government, and obedience to parliamentary regulations, had all co-operated with their ideas of the complete subjugation of the American colonies. They naturally calculated  that they should then be restored to their former residences, and become the favorite subjects of royal patronage. They had reason to expect, that their unshaken loyalty, and uniform exertions to facilitate the designs of the court of St. James, justly deserved a higher tribute of gratitude from the crown than they had received. Their banishment to an iron shore, with a cold recommendation to the state legislatures to permit them to revisit those friends, that might yet have survived the hand of time and misfortune; and to make an effort to recover their scattered property that had frequently shifted hands, as is usual in the confusion of revolutionary struggles, could not be viewed by them as very high marks of consideration.
Yet many of them submitted afterwards to their condition, with a spirit of enterprize and resolution, and endeavoured to establish their new settlements on a respectable footing. But their embarrassments in a situation so new, the soil unprolific, the climate frigid, and the natural propensity of the human mind to sigh after a return to its natal spot, to finish the career of present existence, all co-operated to defeat their success. Shelburne, the pride of their hopes, was in a few years nearly depopulated, and many expensive and elegant buildings left without an inhabitant.
 As we shall not again have any further occasion to recur to the subject of the loyalists, a few observations, the result of their subsequent conduct, may be here introduced with propriety, though it is rather an anticipation.
Those who fixed themselves on the more fertile borders of the Bay of Fundy and St. John’s river, succeeded better than those at Shelburne; but though few of them felt themselves greatly obligated to the justice or the generosity of the British government, they continued their fealty and attachment to the crown of England, with the same zeal and fervor which formerly glowed in the bosoms of the inhabitants of all the American colonies.
The planting a new settlement is an unpleasant task to those who have been used to foster habits, from the industry, fatigue, and self-denial, necessary to promote its success. Nor does the laborious exercise of felling trees and erecting log-huts for themselves, yield much satisfaction to those of a rougher class, but in the anticipation of better prospects in future. The hand of time, which generally ameliorates the miseries of man, or reconciles the mind to its misfortunes, was not sufficiently lenient, to make happy these once voluntary emigrants, either in Canada, Nova Scotia, or even in England. Impatient under the sentence of exile from  their native land, some of them returned to America as aliens, and availed themselves of the benefit of the act of naturalization, afterwards passed by the American government, in favour of those who wished to become citizens of the United States. But under the influence of their old prejudices in favour of monarchy, and their minds lowered down by habit, to succumb to the doctrine of passive obedience, some of them were restless and uneasy in the society of men, who had recently suffered so much to procure liberty and independence to themselves and posterity. They fomented divisions, disseminated party opinions, ridiculed the principles of the revolution, and vilified many of the first characters who had exerted themselves to secure the liberties of their country. These, combined with other circumstances that took place, seemed to throw a temporary veil over the republican system.
All those who returned to the bosom of their country after the peace, ought not to be implicated as inheriting such vindictive dispositions. Whenever the loyalists are mentioned in a collective body, it is but just to make a reservation of some exceptions in favor of such as fled, from the terrors awakened in their bosoms by the convulsive sounds of war.  These only wished to return to their native soil, and enjoy a quiet residence in the land which gave them birth. Persons of this description were to be found in every state in the union, after they were permitted by treaty to return. These were objects of commiseration rather than blame. They had lost their property, their friends, and their felicity, from a mistaken apprehension of the power of the hostile arm that had been stretched out for the invasion of America, before their emigration.
Whatever testimony truth may require from an historian, when investigating the motives of action in public bodies, or scrutinizing individual character, the proneness of man to err, should always admonish him that it is an indispensable duty, “to be candid where he can.”
It is to be lamented, when political opinion is the only bond of attachment, when merit, however conspicuous, is not acknowledged, but by the party in which it is enlisted, the web of prejudice is then so thickly interwoven, that no ray of brotherly kindness can penetrate, and that charity which covers a multitude of sins is totally annihilated.
Though the anticipation in the preceding short chapter, may not exactly accord with the rules of historic writing, no other apology  is necessary, than that the awakened curiosity of the reader, as well as his compassion, will naturally excite a wish to trace the destiny of a body of men, who had set their faces against the liberties of mankind and the exertions of their countrymen. This class had hazarded their own fortune and liberty, which were staked against the independence of America, and the freedom of future generations.
This cursory review of the situation of those unhappy emigrants, the treatment which they received from the British government, their destination and compensation in consequence of their attachment to the monarch of England, will doubtless be permitted, though not in due order of time, as it was the natural result of a survey of their character, their condition, their fate at the close of the war, and their subsequent deportment.
C H A P T E R X X I X
Conduct of the American Army on the News of Peace • Mutiny and Insurrection • Congress surrounded by a Part of the American Army • Mutineers disperse • Congress removes to Princeton • Order of Cincinnati • Observations thereon
chap. xxix Before we close the curtain on the scenes that have empurpled the plains of America, with the blood of some of the best of her citizens,1783 or before we congratulate the European world on the opportunity of closing the temple of Janus, for a season, it is proper to retrospect and mark some of the intermediate transactions of the American troops, from the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army to the proclamation for peace, and the disbanding the troops of the United States.
We have seen through the narration of events during the war, the armies of the American states suffering hunger and cold, nakedness, fatigue, and danger, with unparalleled patience and valor. A due sense of the importance of the contest in which they were engaged, and the certain ruin and disgrace in which themselves and their children would be involved on the defeat of their object, was a strong stimulus  to patient suffering. An attachment to their commanding officers, a confidence in the faith of congress, and the sober principles of independence, equity, and equality, in which the most of them had been nurtured, all united to quiet any temporary murmurs that might arise from present feelings, and to command the fidelity of soldiers contending for personal freedom, and the liberties of their country.
The deranged state of the American finances from a depreciating currency, the difficulty of obtaining loans of monies, and various other causes, had sufficiently impressed them with the danger that threatened the great object, the independence of the United States of America. These circumstances had led the army to submit to a delay of payment of their equitable dues, notwithstanding their personal sufferings, and to wait the effects of more efficient stipulations for adequate rewards in some future day.
But on the certain intelligence that peace was at hand, that it had been proposed to disband the army by furloughs, and that there was no appearance of a speedy liquidation of the public debts, many of both officers and soldiers grew loud in their complaints, and bold in their demands. They required an immediate payment of all arrearages; and insisted on the security of the commutation engaged by congress some time before, on the recommendation of general  Washington: he had requested, that the officers of the army might be assured of receiving seven years’ whole pay, instead of half pay for life, which had been stipulated before: this, after reducing the term to five years, congress had engaged.
They also demanded a settlement for rations, clothing, and proper consideration for the delay of payment of just debts, which had long been due, and an obligation from congress for compensation, or immediate payment. They chose general M’Dougal, colonel Brooks, and colonel Ogden, a committee from the army to wait on congress, to represent the general uneasiness, and to lay the complaints of the army before them, and to enforce the requests of the officers, most of whom were supposed to have been concerned in the business. Anonymous addresses were scattered among the troops; poisonous suggestions whispered, and the most inflammatory resolutions drawn up, and disseminated through the army: these were written with ingenuity and spirit, but the authors were not discovered.
Reports were every where circulated, that the military department would do itself justice; that the army would not disband until congress had acceded to all their demands; and that they would keep their arms in their hands, until they had compelled the delinquent states to  a settlement, and congress to a compliance with all the claims of the public creditors.
These alarming appearances were conducted with much art and intrigue. It was said, and doubtless it was true, that some persons not belonging to the army, and who were very adroit in fiscal management, had their full share in ripening the rupture.
Deeply involved in public contracts, some of the largest public creditors on the continent were particularly suspected of fomenting a spirit, and encouraging views, inconsistent with the principles and professions of the friends to the revolution. These were disgusted at the rejection of the late five per cent. impost, which had been contemplated: they were thought to have been busy in ripening projects, which might bring forward measures for the speedy liquidation of the public demands. The private embarrassments and expenses of some of this class, had frequently prompted them to ill-digested systems for relief to themselves, in which the public were also involved, from the confidence placed in them by men of the first consideration: but their expedients and their adventures ended in the complete ruin of some individuals.
Those gentlemen, however, most particularly implicated in the public opinion, sustained a character pure, and morals correct, when viewed  in comparison with others who were looking forward to projects of extensive speculation, to the establishment of banks and funding systems, and to the erecting a government for the United States, in which should be introduced ranks, privileged orders, and arbitrary powers. Several of these were deep, designing instruments of mischief; characters able, artful, and insinuating; who were undoubtedly engaged in the manoeuvres of the army; and though their designs were not fully comprehended, it was generally believed, that they secretly encouraged the discontents and the attempts of the disaffected soldiery.
In answer to the address of the officers of the army, congress endeavoured to quiet by palliatives, and by expressions of kindness, encouragement, and hope. Several months passed in this uneasy situation: the people anxious, the officers restless, the army instigated by them, and by ambitious and interested men in other departments, proceeded to the most pernicious resolutions, and to measures of a very dangerous nature.
In the mean time, general Washington, both as commander in chief, and as a man who had the peace of his country at heart, did every thing in his power to quiet complaint, to urge to patience, and to dissipate the mutinous spirit that prevailed in the army. By his assiduity,  prudence, and judgment, the embers were slightly covered, but the fire was not extinguished: the secret murmurs that had rankled for several months, and had alternately been smothered in the sullen bosom, or blazed high in the sanguine, now broke out into open insurrection.
On the twentieth of June, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, a part of the Pennsylvania line, with some others belonging to the different corps of several of the United States, in defiance of all order and military discipline, and in contempt of the advice and even importunity of such as were better disposed, marched from Lancaster to Philadelphia. There they were joined by some discontented soldiers in the barracks within the city, who had recently returned poor, emaciated, and miserable, from the southern service.
This seditious host surrounded the state house where congress was sitting, placed guards at the doors, and threatened immediate outrage, unless their demands were complied with in the short space of twenty-four minutes.
Prompt requisitions and immediate decision, all well-disciplined armies are used to, but this is no apology for the precipitation of their present  measures. However, from the pride and success of military manoeuvres, to which they had been accustomed, they felt themselves superior to all civil subordination or control. This is usually the case with all armies or detachments from them, in all countries, after they have stood their ground long enough, to feel their strength sufficient to indulge that military tyranny which grows by habit, and makes a standing army a fit instrument for the support of the most cruel despotism.
It was indeed very alarming to see the general congress of the United States held in a kind of duress, by a part of their own army: but though extremely clamorous and insolent, the mutineers did not proceed to personal abuse; and, as if struck by a consciousness of the impropriety of their own conduct, or overawed by the appearance of that honorable body in a state of imprisonment by those whom they ought to command, the members were soon permitted to separate. Indeed, they did not meet with any personal insult from the rude and disorderly soldiers, though their demands were not complied with, nor any new concessions made in favor of men, who threatened to become the military masters of the country.
Congress thus rudely assaulted, resented the public affront as they ought, and judged it improper for themselves to continue longer in a  city where they could not be sure of protection. The president and the members of congress agreed to leave Philadelphia immediately, and to meet on the twenty-sixth at Princeton, to proceed on the business of the United States.
General Washington, very far from countenancing any of the measures of these disturbers of order and tranquillity, and very unhappy at the discontents that had appeared among many of his officers, lost not a moment after he was informed of the riotous proceedings of a part of his army in Philadelphia: he ordered general Robert Howe to march without delay, with a body of fifteen hundred men, to quell the mutineers. Aided by the prudent conduct of the magistrates of the city, things were not carried to the extremities apprehended; the refractory soldiers were soon reduced to obedience, tranquillity restored, and no blood spilt.
Some of the ringleaders of sedition were taken into custody, but soon after received a pardon from congress. The most decided steps were immediately taken, not only to quell the clamors of the rioters, but to do justice to the armies of the United States. The commutation, which had labored in congress for some time, was finally agreed on: five years’ full pay was acceded to, instead of half pay during the lives of the officers of the army. To this was  added, a promise of a large proportion of uncultivated land in the western territory, to be distributed among them according to their rank in the army. Yet they were not satisfied;—their complaints were loud, the grievances and the merits of the army recapitulated, and their demands high, even to the alarm of all who had the interest of their country at heart, lest the consequences of this mutinous spirit might be fatal to its future tranquillity.
The disbanding of an army, and throwing a number of idle people at once on the community, always requires the most guarded, cautious, and judicious steps. Congress sensible of this, had immediately on the news of peace, recommended to general Washington the measure of furloughing a number of commissioned and non-commissioned officers. They were of the opinion, that if a considerable part of the soldiery who had enlisted for three years, were sent from the army in this way, it would be the most prudent method of separating a body of men, usually dangerous to the liberties and morals of their own country, when no foreign foe obliges them to unite in the general defence.
But it was a measure not pleasing to the army, and had fomented the uneasiness and increased the clamor among the officers, previous to the audacious step of investing the congressional  assembly, and obliging them, under the threats of an armed force, to disperse for their own personal safety. Yet this mutinous disposition did not appear to have infected the whole army: many of the soldiers were the substantial yeomanry of the country; many of the officers had stood in the same grade of life, and were far from wishing to involve the inhabitants of their native country in scenes of new confusion and distress, for the redress of their complaints, or the payment of their arrearages.
At the same time, the people at large generally thought, that the compensations engaged by congress were equal to the services and sufferings of the army, however meritorious: it was judged, that if held up in a comparative view with the exertions, the sufferings, and dangers of men in other departments, that gratitude was not exclusively due to the military line; but that others, who had with vigilance and energy opposed the common enemy, were entitled to some consideration in the public eye. Every sober and judicious man considered patience and moderation requisites that ought to adorn every public character, and censured in strong terms, the indulgence of that restless and turbulent spirit that had recently appeared to prevail in the army of the United States.
 The public in general were soon confirmed in the opinion, that the intrigues of some of the officers were deep, ambitious, designing, and pernicious. In the outset of the American revolution, the institution of ranks, the creation of nobles, the rearing a monarchy, or the aggrandizement of a monarch, and the factitious ideas of aristocratic birth, had no existence in the minds of a rising republic or their army, organized to oppose the encroachments of kings. These were ideas afterwards suggested by aspiring individuals, who had no prescriptive rights by any superiority of birth, wealth, or education, to assume dignified names or ennobled orders. By degrees, these views were nurtured by certain designing characters, and matured by circumstances to which the inhabitants of the states had hitherto been strangers.
But a connexion with European powers, formed from necessity, kept open by negociation, and the intercourse strengthened by speculators and men of pleasure, tainted the purity and simplicity of American manners, long before the conclusion of the war. The friendships formed in the field with a foreign army, had their influence, and the habits and opinions of military men, who had long been the servants of monarchy or despotism, were adopted by a considerable part of the army of the United States. Nor were some men of other descriptions  less fascinated with the splendor of courts, and the baubles of ambitious spirits, sceptres, diadems, and crowns. Doubtless, some of these had lent their co-operating influence to undermine the beautiful fabric of republicanism, which Americans had erected with enthusiastic fondness, and for which they had risked ease, property, and life.
It may be observed, that pure republicanism is cherished by the philosopher in his closet, and admired by the statesman in his theories of government; yet when called into operation, the combinations of interest, ambition, or party prejudice, too generally destroy the principle, though the name and the form may be preserved.
There is a change of manners, of sentiments, of principles, and of pursuits, which perhaps similar circumstances will in time produce, in all ages and countries. But from the equality of condition to which they had been used, from the first emigration of their ancestors; from their modes of life, and from the character and professions of its inhabitants; such a change in America was not contemplated, nor could have been expected to approach, at so early a period of her independence. But new ideas, from a rivalry of power and a thirst for wealth, had prepared the way to corruption, and the awakened passions were hurried to new images of  happiness. The simpler paths which they had trodden in pursuit of competence and felicity, were left to follow the fantastic fopperies of foreign nations, and to sigh for the distinctions acquired by titles, instead of that real honor which is ever the result of virtue.
A writer of celebrity has observed, that “military commanders acquiring fame, and accustomed to receive the obedience of armies, are in their hearts generally enemies to the popular equality of republics.” Thus, the first step taken in the United States for the aggrandizement of particular families by distinguished orders, and assumed nobility, appeared to originate in the army; some of whom, as observed of the ancient barons of England, “soon forgot the cause and the patriotism of their ancestors, and insensibly became the servants of luxury and of government.”
By the articles of confederation unanimously acceded to by each legislature on the continent, the great American republic admitted no titles of honor, no ennobled or privileged orders. But willing to make the experiment, and reap the first fruits of exclusive dignity, a self-created rank was contemplated by some officers of the army, and an order of military knighthood projected, before the disturbances at Philadelphia, but not publicly avowed until after the insurrection was subdued.
 This institution embraced the whole body of officers belonging to the army and navy, both French and Americans. The right of admitting as honorary members persons of eminence of any nation, was also assumed. This adoption of honorary members gave the right only of partaking present munificence, and the enjoyment of the honor during their own lives, however they might have been distinguished in name or character. An hereditary claim to the peerage of the Order of Cincinnati, and the privileges annexed thereto, was confined solely to the military line.
The count de Rochambeau, the duke de Noailles, and many of the principal officers of the French army, and several other foreign officers, whose term of service had been too short to admit a claim according to the rules of the order, were however adopted on its first institution. The French ambassador and many other gentlemen, bred in the schools of monarchy in various parts of Europe, and even some princes and crowned heads, were invited to dignify the order by becoming honorary members.
This was a deep laid plan, which discovered sagacity to look forward, genius to take advantage, and art to appropriate to themselves the opening prospects of dignity and rank, which  had fired the minds of ambitious men. The ostensible design of this novel institution, was striking to the compassionate mind, and flattering to the lovers of freedom among the American officers. Many of them knew not enough of the world, and of the history and character of man, to suspect any latent mischief or any concealed object that must not yet be divulged, for fear of disgusting the public ear. Others had comprehensive ideas of the system, and with great complacency of mind anticipated the honor of hereditary knighthood, entailed on their posterity.
The members were invited to embody as a society of friends, to perpetuate the memory of the revolution, and to engage to be vigilant in preserving inviolate, the exalted rights and liberties of human nature, for which they had fought and bled. On his initiation into the society, each member was to advance a month’s pay, in order to begin a fund for the relief of any unfortunate family or distressed individual, who did himself, or whose father had belonged to the order.
They mutually engaged that this union should not be dissolved but with their lives; and that their attachment and their honors should descend to the eldest of their male posterity, and in failure thereof, to the collateral branches.
 They were to be furnished with a diploma, and to appropriate to themselves as a badge of their order, a golden medal, with a bald eagle spread on the one side, and on the other a symbol and a motto indicative of the dignity of their order. The medal was to be suspended on a broad blue ribbon edged with white, designed to intimate the union between America and France; this was to be hung to a buttonhole of their vest.
As the officers of the American army had styled themselves of the order, and assumed the name of Cincinnatus, it might have been expected that they would have imitated the humble and disinterested virtues of the ancient Roman; that they would have retired satisfied with their own efforts to save their country, and the competent rewards it was ready to bestow, instead of ostentatiously assuming hereditary distinctions, and the insignia of nobility. But the eagle and the ribbon dangled at the button-hole of every youth who had for three years borne an office in the army, and taught him to look down with proud contempt on the patriot grown grey in the service of his country.
Arduous indeed was the task of raising, regulating, and maintaining an army, to secure the freedom, the mediocrity, and the independent spirit, as well as the name of Americans. Those  who had been long engaged in this laborious work had never imagined, that any class of the citizens of the United States would pant for peerages in the shade of retirement, instead of practising in their primeval state, the humble virtues, and imitating the laudable manners of their ancestors.
The benevolent principles avowed in the declarations of the society, allured many to unite with them who had no ideas of establishing an hereditary rank of nobility in America. Their views were too circumscribed, and perhaps too virtuous, to wish for any thing more than independence, retirement, and peace, and to return to the plough, or to the humbler occupations of their former life, with the conscious disposition of doing good to their old associates, if affliction should assail, or misfortunes render them, in any future day, the objects of commiseration and beneficence. But America had nurtured sons of boundless ambition, who thus early contemplated stars, garters, and diadems, crowns, sceptres, and the regalia of kings, in the yet simple bosom of their country.
General Washington was looked up to as the head of the society, though for a time he prudently declined the style of president or grand master of the order, and chose to be considered only as an honorary member. This might have  been from an apprehension that it would give a stab to his popularity, but more probably it was from a sense of the impropriety of an assumption so incompatible with the principles of a young republic. The commander of the armies of the United States, however, after the baron de Steuben had acted as grand master of the order until October, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, publicly acknowledged and subscribed himself the president of the Society of the Cincinnati.
It was observed by a writer in England, that “this was the only blot hitherto discovered in the character of this venerable hero.” The same writer adds
It is impossible however to exculpate him: if he understood the tendency of his conduct, his ideas of liberty must have been less pure and elevated than they have been represented; and if he rushed into the measure blindfold, he must still be considered as wanting in some degree, that penetration and presence of mind so necessary to complete his character.
He was censured by several opposed to such an institution, who wrote on the subject both in Europe and America: it was considered as a blameable deviation in him from the principles of the revolution, which he had defended by his sword, and appeared now ready to relinquish by his example.
 The name of Washington was alone sufficient to render the institution popular in the army; but neither his or any other name could sanction the design in the eye of the sober republican, and other men of moderate views in the common grades of life. These were tenacious of the principles and the articles of the confederation, which expressly forbade any rank or dignity to be conferred on the citizens of the United States, either by princes abroad or self-created societies at home.*
Much less satisfied were many high-spirited individuals in the higher classes of life. Ambassadors abroad, who had adopted a fondness for nominal distinctions, members of congress and of state legislatures, and many others who had acquired a taste for the external superiority that wealth and titles bestow, could not be pleased to see themselves and their children thus excluded from hereditary claim to the honors, privileges, and emoluments, of the first order of American nobility. These asserted without hesitation, that this self-created peerage of military origin, would throw an undue weight into the scale of the army; while the sincere votaries to freedom, and the natural equality of man, apprehended that this institution would give a fatal wound to the liberties of America.
 Many judicious observers of the story of mankind thought, that the United States had now, at the conclusion of the war, an opportunity to make a fair experiment between the advantages of a republican form of government and more despotic modes.
It is true, America had obtained her independence, and spurned at every idea of kingly power: yet at this period it was difficult to conjecture, into what form of government the United States would finally settle. Republicanism had been the order of the day: the theory was beautiful, and the system warmly advocated by many of the best political writers: but the manners and the opinions of many discovered, that they had not entirely shaken off their prejudices in favor of monarchy, under which their ancestors had suffered enough to lead them to impress the wisest lessons on their posterity.
Some circumstances augured symptoms, that Americans, like most other nations, would succumb to the will of assumed superiority, and by their servility justify the attempt to establish inequalities of rank; and that they would relinquish with their rights, the spirit that ought to support them: that the dignity of republican principles would, in some not very distant day, be lost in the adulation of the sycophant, trembling under the frown of a despotic master.
 This was consistent with the ideas of a sensible American writer, on the subject of the institution of the Cincinnati. He observes,
that this order was a deep laid plan, to beget and perpetuate family grandeur in an aristocratic nobility, which might terminate at last in monarchical tyranny. But (adds the same writer) never let so foul a stain be fastened on the human character, as that the very men who, with unfading honor, rescued their country from the galling yoke of foreigners, should lay the corner stone for erecting a tyranny themselves. Let not their example prove, that all that Plato, Sidney, and Locke, have said, and others have bequeathed to posterity on the subject of political happiness, was no more than ideal pictures of a fine imagination.*
The baron de Steuben and many other foreign officers, were very active and zealous in promoting this new institution. It was however generally thought it originated more in the ambition of some American, than in the influence of any European officers: and perhaps the society was not more indebted to any individual, who was a native son of America, for this dignified innovation, than to major general  Knox, a man of extensive ambition, who had imbibed ideas of distinction too extravagant for a genuine republican.
Mr. Knox had not had the advantages of a literary education; but his natural inquisitive disposition and attention to books, rendered him a well-informed, agreeable man, with ingratiating accomplishments. His love of military parade, and the affability of his manners, brought him forward to the command of a cadet company in Boston, before the commencement of the American war. Naturally of a complacent disposition, his jovial humor and easy deportment rendered him acceptable in all companies, and made him a favorite with the commander in chief, even before his talents as a soldier were called into exercise. With an assemblage of pleasing qualities, it is not strange that he rose rapidly in the military line. He commanded the artillery department for several years before the conclusion of the war; and performed his duty in this line with courage and vigilance, which did honor to his military character.
Towards the close of the war, many gentlemen had indulged the most expensive modes of life, without resources sufficient to support the pernicious habits, which they had adopted from a wild fondness for novel ideas of rank, titles, and privileged orders, little short of men of  princely education, birth, and expectations. These probably might think, that some badge of hereditary nobility might give consequence to certain characters and families; while they might have sagacity to see that new exigencies might arise, that would open new sources of wealth to favored individuals, sufficient to maintain the pageantry assumed by self-originated titles and distinguished orders.
Friendship and brotherly kindness, patriotism and charity, were held up as the basis of the institution: and however the pride of man might be flattered by the ideas of a frivolous honorary title, attached to his family forever, doubtless the urbanity of Mr. Knox, as well as many other gentlemen, members of the society, was gratified more by the expectation, that much utility would redound to a very large class in the community, who might be benefitted by the donations of the society, though they reaped none of the honors of the institution.
But it was not long before the people were generally aroused from their supineness, by the alarming aspect of these pretensions of the officers of the army. Instead of an affectionate respect to them, which had been generally felt, or any new veneration awakened toward the new military nobles, a universal disgust was intermingled with the apprehensions of danger. This innovation was considered as striking at  once at the equality, liberty, simplicity, and interest, of the nation at large. The legislatures of several states announced their disapprobation of the institution, in strong and pointed language: they declared it an unjustifiable, dangerous, and bold presumption; and threatened, if persisted in, to manifest stronger tokens of their displeasure against the officers of the army, for separating themselves from their fellow-citizens, and erecting a pedestal on which they might be elevated to distinguished rank, and grades of honor inhibited by the confederacy of the states, and the principles of the revolution.
The state of Rhode Island carried their resentment still farther; they cut them off from the usual privileges which had been enjoyed by the subjects of the state, and annulled their claims to the common rights of citizenship by declaring, that any who were members of the Cincinnati should be considered as incapable of holding any office under the government. In short, so general was the dissatisfaction expressed, at the appearance of a deep laid foundation for building up a strong aristocracy, if not a monarchy, on the ruins of the American republic, that at the meeting of the Order of Cincinnati in May, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-four, they withdrew, or rather drew a veil over, some of their former pretensions; they apparently renounced the idea of hereditary  distinctions, and several other obnoxious claims, but in reality they relinquished nothing.
They afterwards continued the general and state meetings, the former once in three years, and the latter annually, retained their badges of honor, invited the eldest sons of deceased officers to accept the diploma, and to wear the eagle of their fathers, to associate with them on all public occasions, and to keep up the ancestral claim, in spite of the disapprobation of most of their countrymen. Their funds increased rapidly: according to their articles, the yearly interest only was to be annually appropriated to charitable purposes; this was much more than was expended: thus the wealth of the society was continually enhancing; and by their riches and their numbers they were indeed a formidable body, capable of becoming a preponderating weight in the political scale of their country, in whatever exigencies it might hereafter be involved.
There was undoubtedly much merit in the conduct of the American officers and soldiers through the war; there was also much to apprehend from them, by the existing circumstances at the close of hostilities: various combinations and circumstances rendered it improbable, that such a corps of ambitious spirits, hardened in the field of valor and enterprise, should at once return to their former occupations,  and sit down as quiet citizens, without intriguing or intermeddling too much, and claiming a kind of prescriptive right to dictate in the civil administration of government.
The distressed state of American finances was alarming: congress was without revenue, resource, or fiscal arrangements that promised to be sufficiently productive; without power or energy to enforce any effectual measure, until the consent of each individual state was obtained. There had been a violent opposition to a proposal for raising a revenue, by an impost of five per cent. on all goods imported from foreign countries. As this was an experiment, it was limited to twenty-five years. Had the expedient been adopted, it might have prevented many subsequent difficulties and embarrassments that took place, previous to, as well as after, the adoption of a permanent constitution for the United States of America.
It was said, however, by some very wise and judicious statesmen, that this imperceptible mode of drawing money from the pockets of the people, was better suited to more despotic forms of government, than to the free and independent spirit that had produced the confederacy of the American states; that more open measures, and even direct taxes, were more consistent with republican opinions and manners, than the secret drains of imposts and excises,  which might bankrupt a nation, amidst the delusory dreams of wealth and independence.
Though this opinion was not universal, yet it had its influence so far as to retard the measure. Rhode Island rejected it entirely; Massachusetts and some other states threw impediments in the way; and finally, no effectual step was yet taken to restore public credit, or to quiet the murmurs of the army, just on the point of dissolution. The state, thus incapable of satisfying their just demands, had every thing to fear from that “peremptory and untemporising spirit, which is usually the fruit of a series of military service.”
America now beheld an existing clamorous army, on the point of dissolution, or about to assume military domination. There now appeared a large body of proud, ambitious officers, unsatisfied with the honor of victory, and impatient under the promise of pecuniary compensation, as soon as the exigencies of public affairs would admit: many of them were needy from the delay of payment for meritorious, military services and sufferings. They were now (as observed) fighting for distinction, aiming to establish hereditary rank among themselves, and eager for wealth sufficient to support the taste and style of nobility; a taste newly adopted by an intercourse with foreigners of  high rank, and habits of expense and dissipation under monarchic governments.
It was obvious to every one, that dignified ranks, ostentatious titles, splendid governments, and supernumerary expensive offices, to be supported by the labor of the poor, or the taxation of all the conveniences of the more wealthy, for the aggrandizement of a few, were not the objects of the patriot in the cabinet: nor was this the contemplation of the soldier in the field, when the veins of the children of America were first opened, and the streams of life poured out, both on the borders and the interior of the United States, against the combinations of civilized and savage warriors. The views of the virtuous of every class in those exertions, were for the purchase of freedom, independence, and competence, to themselves and their posterity.
At the same time, the congress of the United States was without sufficient powers by the old confederation, either to restrain the most dangerous irregularities, or to command public justice: they were also deprived by absence, ineligibility, or death,* of the abilities of many  of the members who first composed that honorable body. Some men had been introduced in their stead, whose ideas of public liberty were very different; who had neither the capacity, the comprehension, nor even the wishes, to establish the freedom of their country on the basis of equal liberty, and the renunciation of monarchic principles. Some of them had always been men of doubtful character, others had decidedly favored the claims of the British king and parliament.
The several governments involved in a weight of public debt; the people embarrassed in their private resources, from the expensive exigencies of an eight years’ war; and every difficulty enhanced by being long without a medium of stability, without confidence in the faith of public bodies, or securities that could be relied on in private contracts,—the public mind was now agitated like a forest shaken in a tempest, and stood trembling at the magnitude of opening prospects, and the retrospect of past events.
We have seen the seeds of animosity and dissension were sown among themselves before the American army was disbanded; dangerous symptoms indeed in a young republic, just setting out for itself, with the command and entire jurisdiction of an immense territory, while yet no digested system was formed, or seriously  contemplated but by few, for governing a newborn nation, still in its pupilage with regard to the ends, the origin, and the most perfect mode of civil government.
America was a country remarkable for its rapid population, not yet so much from the ingress of foreigners, as in consequence of the operations of nature, where a people are not corrupted by habits of effeminacy, where subsistence for a family was easily acquired, and where few factitious wants had yet cankered the minds of the great mass of the people, and dislodged that complacency which results from competence and content. Many indeed, at the present period, seemed to have lost sight of their primeval ideas and obligations; yet they were not eradicated from the intelligent, the virtuous, and well-informed mind: the genial flame of freedom and independence blazed in its original lustre, in the breasts of many, long after the termination of the revolutionary war.
After this period, the American continent was viewed by all nations as a theatre just erected, where the drama was but begun: while the actors of the old world having run through every species of pride, luxury, venality, and vice, their characters are become less interesting than those of the new. America may stand as a  monument of observation, and an asylum of freedom. The eyes of all Europe were upon her: she was placed in a rank that subjected her to the inspection of mankind abroad, to the jealousy of monarchs, and the envy of nations, all watching for her halting, to avail themselves of her mistakes, and to reap advantages from her difficulties, her embarrassments, her inexperience, or her follies.
Perhaps at no period of her existence, was America viewed with an eye of higher veneration, than at the present, both by statesmen and princes: at the same time, the philosopher in his retirement contemplates, and the lovers of mankind of every description behold, the shackles of ancestral pride annihilated, in a respectable portion of the globe. Yet, it may be observed, that it will require all the wisdom and firmness of the most sagacious heads, united with the most upright hearts, to establish a form of government for an extensive nation, whose independence has been recently acknowledged by Great Britain. This must be done on a just medium, that may control the licentiousness of liberty, and the daring encroachments of arbitrary power; a medium that may check the two extremes of democracy, and the overbearing influence of a young aristocracy, that may start up from a sudden acquisition of wealth, where it had never before been tasted.
 But after all the speculative opinions with regard to government, that have occupied the minds and the pens of men, before many years roll over, some aspiring genius, without establishing the criterion or waiting the reward of real merit, may avail himself of the weakness, the divisions, and perhaps the distresses, of America, to make himself the designator and the fountain of honor and expectation. Such a sovereign without a crown, or the title of king, with his favorites and his instigators about him, may not be a less dangerous animal, than the monarch whose brow is decorated by the splendor of a diadem.
These are, however, ideas that may evanish with time; or if realized, it must be to the grief of the genuine patriot and the misery of thousands, who now dream only of freedom, wealth, and happiness, beneath the protection of just, equal, and lenient governments of their own, without any commixture of foreign influence or domination.
C H A P T E R X X X
A Survey of the Situation of America on the Conclusion of the War with Britain • Observations on the Declaration of Independence • Withdraw of the British Troops from New York—A few Observations on the Detention of the Western Posts • The American Army disbanded, after the Commander in Chief had addressed the Public, and taken Leave of his Fellow-Soldiers—General Washington resigns his Commission to Congress
chap. xxx We have seen the banners of Albion displayed, and the pendants of her proud navy waving over the waters of the western world,1783 and threatening terror, servitude, or desolation, to resisting millions. We have seen through the tragic tale of war, all political connexion with Great Britain broken off, the authority of the parent state renounced, and the independence of the American states sealed by the definitive treaty. The mind now willingly draws a veil over the unpleasing part of the drama, and indulges the imagination in future prospects of peace and felicity; when the soldier shall retreat from the field, lay by the sword, and resume the implements of husbandry—the mechanic return to his former occupation, and the merchant rejoice in the prosperous view of commerce; when trade shall not be restricted  by the unjust or partial regulations of foreigners; and when the ports of America shall be thrown open to all the world, and an intercourse kept free, to reap the advantages of commerce extended to all nations.
The young government of this newly established nation had, by the recent articles of peace, a claim to a jurisdiction over a vast territory, reaching from the St. Mary’s on the south, to the river St. Croix, the extreme boundary of the east, containing a line of postroads of eighteen hundred miles, exclusive of the northern and western wilds, but partially settled, and whose limits have not yet been explored. Not the Lycian league, nor any of the combinations of the Grecian states, encircled such an extent of territory; nor does modern history furnish any example of a confederacy of equal magnitude and respectability with that of the United States of America.
We look back with astonishment when we reflect, that it was only in the beginning of the seventeenth century, that the first Europeans landed in Virginia, and that nearly at the same time, a few wandering strangers coasted about the unknown bay of Massachusetts, until they found a footing in Plymouth. Only a century and an half had elapsed, before their numbers and their strength accumulated, until they bade defiance to foreign oppression, and stood ready  to meet the power of Britain, with courage and magnanimity scarcely paralleled by the progeny of nations, who had been used to every degree of subordination and obedience.
The most vivid imagination cannot realize the contrast, when it surveys the vast surface of America now enrobed with fruitful fields, and the rich herbage of the pastures, which had been so recently covered with a thick mattress of woods; when it beholds the cultivated vista, the orchards and the beautiful gardens which have arisen within the limits of the Atlantic states, where the deep embrowned, melancholy forest, had from time immemorial sheltered only the wandering savage; where the sweet notes of the feathered race, that follow the track of cultivation, had never chanted their melodious songs: the wild waste had been a haunt only for the hoarse birds of prey, and the prowling quadrupeds that filled the forest.
In a country like America, including a vast variety of soil and climate, producing every thing necessary for convenience and pleasure, every man might be lord of his own acquisition. It was a country where the standard of freedom had recently been erected, to allure the liberal minded to her shores, and to receive and to protect the persecuted subjects of arbitrary power, who might there seek an asylum from the chains of servitude to which they had  been subjected in any part of the globe. Here it might rationally be expected, that beside the natural increase, the emigration to a land of such fair promise of the blessings of plenty, liberty, and peace, to which multitudes would probably resort, there would be exhibited in a few years, a population almost beyond the calculation of figures.
The extensive tract of territory above described, on the borders of the Atlantic, had, as we have seen, been divided into several distinct governments, under the control of the crown of Great Britain; these governments were now united in a strong confederacy, absolutely independent of all foreign domination: the several states retained their own legislative powers; they were proud of their individual independence, tenacious of their republican principles, and newly emancipated from the degrading ideas of foreign control, and the sceptred hand of monarchy. With all these distinguished privileges, deeply impressed with the ideas of internal happiness, we shall see they grew jealous of each other, and soon after the peace, even of the powers of the several governments erected by themselves: they were eager for the acquisition of wealth, and the possession of the new advantages dawning on their country, from their friendly connexions abroad, and their abundant resources at home.
 At the same time that these wayward appearances began early to threaten their internal felicity, the inhabitants of America were in general sensible, that the freedom of the people, the virtue of society, and the stability of their commonwealth, could only be preserved by the strictest union; and that the independence of the United States must be secured by an undeviating adherence to the principles that produced the revolution.
These principles were grounded on the natural equality of man, their right of adopting their own modes of government, the dignity of the people, and that sovereignty which cannot be ceded either to representatives or to kings. But, as a certain writer has expressed it,
Powers may be delegated for particular purposes; but the omnipotence of society, if any where, is in itself. Princes, senates, or parliaments, are not proprietors or masters; they are subject to the people, who form and support that society, by an eternal law of nature, which has ever subjected a part to the whole.*
These were opinions congenial to the feelings, and were disseminated by the pens, of political writers; of Otis, Dickinson,  Quincy,† and many others, who with pathos and energy had defended the liberties of America, previous to the commencement of hostilities.
On these principles, a due respect must ever be paid to the general will; to the right in the people to dispose of their own monies by a representative voice; and to liberty of conscience without religious tests: on these principles, frequent elections, and rotations of office, were generally thought necessary, without precluding the indispensable subordination and obedience due to rulers of their own choice. From  the principles, manners, habits, and education of the Americans, they expected from their rulers, economy in expenditure, (both public and private,) simplicity of manners, pure morals, and undeviating probity. These they considered as the emanations of virtue, grounded on a sense of duty, and a veneration for the Supreme Governor of the universe, to whom the dictates of nature teach all mankind to pay homage, and whom they had been taught to worship according to revelation, and the divine precepts of the gospel. Their ancestors had rejected and fled from the impositions and restrictions of men, vested either with princely or priestly authority: they equally claimed the exercise of private judgment, and the rights of conscience, unfettered by religious establishments in favor of particular denominations.
They expected a simplification of law; clearly defined distinctions between executive, legislative, and judiciary powers: the right of trial by jury, and a sacred regard to personal liberty and the protection of private property, were opinions embraced by all who had any just ideas of government, law, equity, or morals.
These were the rights of men, the privileges of Englishmen, and the claim of Americans: these were the principles of the Saxon ancestry of the British empire, and of all the free nations  of Europe, previous to the corrupt systems introduced by intriguing and ambitious individuals.
These were the opinions of Ludlow and Sydney, of Milton and Harrington: these were principles defended by the pen of the learned, enlightened, and renowned Locke; and even judge Blackstone, in his excellent commentaries on the laws of England, has observed, “that trial by jury and the liberties of the people went out together.” Indeed, most of the learned and virtuous writers that have adorned the pages of literature from generation to generation, in an island celebrated for the erudite and comprehensive genius of its inhabitants, have enforced these rational and liberal opinions.
These were the principles which the ancestors of the inhabitants of the United States brought with them from the polished shores of Europe, to the dark wilds of America: these opinions were deeply infixed in the bosoms of their posterity, and nurtured with zeal, until necessity obligated them to announce the declaration of the independence of the United States. We have seen that the instrument which announced the final separation of the American colonies from Great Britain, was drawn by the elegant and energetic pen of Jefferson, with that  correct judgment, precision, and dignity, which have ever marked his character.
The declaration of independence, which has done so much honor to the then existing congress, to the inhabitants of the United States, and to the genius and heart of the gentleman who drew it, in the belief, and under the awe, of the Divine Providence, ought to be frequently read by the rising youth of the American states, as a palladium of which they should never lose sight, so long as they wish to continue a free and independent people.
This celebrated paper, which will be admired in the annals of every historian, begins with an assertion, that all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, which nature and nature’s God entitle them to claim; and, after appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of their intentions, it concludes in the name of the good people of the colonies, by their representatives assembled in congress, they publish and declare, that they are, and of right ought to be, Free and Independent States: in the name of the people, the fountain of all just authority, relying on the protection of Divine Providence, they mutually pledged themselves to maintain these rights, with their lives, fortunes, and honor.
 These principles the Sons of Columbia had supported by argument, defended by the sword, and have now secured by negotiation, as far as the pledges of national faith and honor will bind society to a strict adherence to equity. This however is seldom longer than it appears to be the interest of nations, or designing individuals of influence and power. Virtue in the sublimest sense, operates only on the minds of a chosen few: in their breasts it will ever find its own reward.
In all ages, mankind are governed less by reason and justice, than by interest and passion: the caprice of a day, or the impulse of a moment, will blow them about as with a whirlwind, and bear them down the current of folly, until awakened by their misery: by these they are often led to breaches of the most solemn engagements, the consequences of which may involve whole nations in wretchedness. It is devoutly to be hoped, that the conduct of America will never stand upon record as a striking example of the truth of this observation. She has fought for her liberties; she has purchased them by the most costly sacrifices: we have seen her embark in the enterprise, with a spirit that gained her the applause of mankind. The United States have procured their own emancipation from foreign thraldom, by the sacrifice of their heroes and their friends: they are now ushered on to the temple of peace, who holds  out her wand, and beckons them to make the wisest improvement of the advantages they had acquired, by their patience, perseverance, and valor.
They had now only to close the scenes of war by a quiet dispersion of their own armies, and to witness the last act of hostile parade, the decampment of the battalions of Britain, and the retirement of the potent fleets that had long infested their coasts. This was to have been done at an earlier day: it was expected that on the ratification of the definitive treaty, there would have been an immediate evacuation of all the posts which had been held by the British, within the limits of the United States.
The seventh article of the treaty expressly stipulated, that
His Britannic Majesty shall, with all convenient speed, and without causing any destruction, or carrying away any negroes or other property of the American inhabitants, withdraw all his armies, garrisons, and fleets, from the said United States, and from every post, place, and harbor, within the same; leaving in all fortifications the American artillery that may be therein: and shall also order and cause all archives, records, deeds, and papers, belonging to any of the said states, or their citizens, which in the course of the war may have fallen into the hands of his officers, to be forthwith restored  and delivered to the proper states and persons to whom they belong.
General Carleton had assigned his reasons for delay relative to the evacuation of New York, in his correspondence with the president of congress and general Washington. Some satisfactory arrangements were however soon after made, relative to the loyalists, the exchange of prisoners, and several other points, for which the reader is referred to the journals of congress. When this was done, a detachment from the American army, under the command of general Knox, was directed to enter New York, in order to prevent any irregularities, confusion, or insult, among the citizens, on the important movement now about to take place.
On the twenty-fifth of November, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, all the British, Hessian, and other foreign troops in the pay of his Britannic majesty, were drawn off from the city of New York: general Carleton embarked the same day; and admiral Digby sailed for England with the remainder of the British fleet, that had for many years invaded the sea-coasts of America. Thus the shores of the Atlantic states, that had so long been alarmed by the terrific thunders of the British navy, and ravaged by hostile squadrons, were left in repose. In consequence of this much desired event, a general joy pervaded the borders,  from Georgia to the extreme boundaries of the New England states.
No sufficient apology was however yet made for the detention of the western posts: they were long retained; and this breach of faith was afterwards attended with very important consequences. Under various frivolous pretences of non-compliance on the part of the United States, with some articles stipulated in the definitive treaty of peace, a long line of posts in the western territory were not relinquished.
We have seen by the seventh article of the treaty, that the king of England was to have immediately withdrawn not only his fleets and armies from the sea-coasts, but all the garrisons, forts, and places of arms, within the United States, should at the same time have been evacuated. But the British interest and trade with the natives of the wilderness, in the extensive territories from the Mississippi to the Alleghany Mountains on the river Ohio, could not easily be relinquished by their government. The forts of Michillimackinak and Detroit, the posts on Lake Erie, Niagara, Oswego, and several others, were held by British officers and troops, and a jurisdiction long exercised over all the country in the vicinity, under the direction of colonel Simcoe, afterwards governor of Upper Canada.
 The disposition of this man toward the United States, was no less cruel and savage, than that of the fierce uncultivated natives beyond the lakes: this we have seen him display when a marauding partisan in the Jersies, Virginia, and other places. He was now left at full liberty to indulge this disposition among savages, whose ferocity and cruelty seemed to be perfectly congenial to the feelings of his own heart, when, while in command there, he instigated the fierce and blood-thirsty warriors to make incursions on the frontier settlements.
The hostile character of governor Simcoe, the licentiousness and barbarity of the borderers, both European and American, united with the interests of Britain and the weakness of an infant government in America, some time after the present period, produced a horrid Indian war, in which, assisted by British soldiers in disguise, many brave officers of the old army, and some of the flower of the American youth, perished in the wilderness.
Those subsequent circumstances in American story which have been cursorily mentioned above, suggest the reflection, that it might have been happy for the United States, and happier for the individual “who weeps alone its lot of wo,” if, instead of extending their views  over the boundless desert, a Chinese wall had been stretched along the Apalachian ridges, that might have kept the nations within the boundaries of nature. This would have prevented the incalculable loss of life and property, and have checked the lust of territory, wealth, and that ambition which has poured out streams of innocent blood on the forlorn mountains. The lives of our young heroes were too rich a price for the purchase of the acres of the savages, even could the nations be extinguished, who certainly have a prior right to the inheritance: this is a theme on which some future historians may more copiously descant.
The acquisition and possession of territory seems to be a passion inwove in the bosom of man: we see it from the peasant who owns but a single acre, to the prince who commands kingdoms, and wishes to extend his domains over half the globe. This is thought necessary at some times to distance troublesome neighbours, at others to preserve their own independence; but if the spring of action is traced, it may generally be found in the inordinate thirst for the possession of power and wealth.
A writer of celebrity has observed,
The enlargement of territory by conquest, is not only not a just object of war, but, in the greater part of the instances in which it is attempted, not even desirable. It is certainly  not desirable, where it adds nothing to the numbers, the enjoyments, or the security of the conquerors. What, commonly, is gained to a nation by the annexing of new dependencies, or the subjugation of other countries to its dominions, but a wider frontier to defend, more interfering claims to vindicate, more quarrels, more enemies, more rebellions to encounter, a greater force to keep up by sea and land, more services to provide for, and more establishments to pay? Were it true that the grandeur of the prince is magnified by those exploits, the glory which is purchased, and the ambition which is gratified, by the distress of one country, without adding to the happiness of another, which at the same time enslaves the new and impoverishes the ancient part of the empire, by whatever names it may be known or flattered, ought to be an object of universal execration.*
These are the reflections of a philosopher; princes and statesmen view things in a very different light. The expense of either treasure or blood, the waste of human life, the anguish of the afflicted bosom, or the tears wrung from the eye of sorrow, have little weight in the scale of ambition, whose object is the extension of territory and power to the utmost of their  limits, however contrary to the laws of nature and benevolence.
Perhaps neither reason nor policy could justify the American government in offensive war, on the natives of the interior of the western territory; but the detention of the posts on the borders by the British, obliged them after peace took place, to make some military defence against the incursions of the savages on the frontiers, the consequences of which will be seen hereafter.
We have already observed, that New York was relinquished and the British forces withdrawn from the Atlantic states only, and the further adjustment relative to the out-posts left to the decision of a future day.†
Immediately after the British armament was withdrawn from New York, all hostile arrangements disappeared, and the clarion of war ceased to grate the ear of humanity; and notwithstanding  the obstacles that had arisen, and the dangers feared from the face of general discontent among the officers and soldiers, the American army was disbanded with far less difficulty than was apprehended. The commander in chief, and many of the officers, conducted the business of conciliation and obedience, after the late mutiny and insurrection, with the most consummate judgment and prudence; and the whole American army was dismissed in partial detachments, without tumult or disorder.
The merits of the commander in chief of the united armies of America, have been duly noticed through the preceding pages of this work, in their order of time; and ample justice has been done to the integrity and valor, to the moderation and humanity, of this distinguished character. The virtues and talents which he really possessed, have been appreciated in a measure consistent with a sacred regard to truth. Imputed genius and lustre of abilities ascribed beyond the common ratio of human capacity and perfection, were the result of his commanding good fortune, which attached to his person and character, the partiality of all ranks and classes of men.
An exclusive claim to the summit of human excellence, had been yielded as a kind of prescriptive right, to this worthy and justly venerated citizen, from affection, from gratitude,  and from the real services rendered his country, under existing circumstances that had never before, and perhaps never will again, take place. His remarkable retention of popular favor and good-will, carried him through a long and perilous war without a change in public opinion, or the loss of confidence in the commander first appointed by the congress of America, to meet the veterans of Britain and other European powers, on hostile ground.
Thus, the renowned Washington, without arrogating any undue power to himself, which success and popularity offered, and which might have swayed many more designing and interested men, to have gratified their own ambition at the expense of the liberties of America, finished his career of military glory, with decided magnanimity, unimpeached integrity, and the most judicious steps to promote the tranquillity of his country. He had previously published a circular letter to each governor of the individual states: this was an elegant address, replete with useful observations and excellent advice to the inhabitants of the United States, in their social, civil, and military capacities. Nor did he neglect on all occasions, after the approach of peace, to inculcate on the soldiery, and to impress on the minds of the people, the necessity of union, subordination, economy, and justice, in the punctual discharge of all contracts, both public and private.
 In full possession of the confidence of the people, the applause of his country, the love of the army, the esteem of foreigners, and the warm friendship and respect of the Gallican nation whose armies and treasures had aided him to glory and victory, general Washington disbanded the troops without noise, inconvenience, or any apparent murmur at his measures. By order of the commander in chief, the peace was celebrated at New York on the first day of December, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, with high demonstrations of satisfaction and joy; and on the twenty-third of the same month, general Washington resigned his commission to congress, and, after acting so conspicuous a part on the theatre of war, retired from public scenes and public men, with a philosophic dignity honorary to himself and to human nature.
Before the separation of the army, the general took a very affectionate leave of his brave and faithful soldiers, and of each of the officers singly. His farewell to his brave associates through the perilous scenes of danger and war, was attended with singular circumstances of affection and attachment. His address to the army was warm, energetic, and impressive. While the sensibility of the commander in chief appeared in his countenance, it was reciprocated in the faces of both officers and soldiers; and in the course of this solemn adieu,  the big tear stole down the cheeks of men of courage and hardihood, long inured to scenes of slaughter and distress, which too generally deaden the best feelings of the human heart. *
The mutual recollection of past dangers and fatigue which they had endured together, and the contemplation of a retreat that would probably prevent their ever meeting again, rendered this period of separation, between this band of veteran chieftains and valiant soldiers, a moment of extreme sensibility. Many of them had left their pruning-hooks from principle, and had girded on the sword in defence of civil and religious liberty; they were now returning to the plough, uncertain what kind of masters would in future reap the reward of their labors: they had left many of their brethren on the field of death, the voluntary sacrifices to the independence of their country: they had freed themselves from the fetters of kings, and by their prowess and their perseverance, they had obtained a national independence.
General Washington was attended to the margin of the river, (where he embarked on his way to Annapolis,) by crowds of spectators of every sex and age; while the procession of  officers and gentlemen who followed, with solemn steps and mournful visage, was indicative of a last adieu to their most beloved and respected friend.
Congress was then sitting at Annapolis, where they received the resignation of the magnanimous and disinterested commander of the army of the United States, with the same emotions of veneration and affection that had agitated the breast of the soldier. He had refused all pecuniary compensation for his services, except what was sufficient for his necessary expenditures, and laid his accounts before the congress: he then hastened with all possible celerity, to his peaceful mansion in the state of Virginia: there his return was hailed by the joyous acclamations of his friends, his neighbours, his servants, and the crown of his domestic felicity, his amiable partner. Mrs. Washington had long sighed for the return of her hero, whom she adored as the saviour of her country, and loved as the husband of her fond affection. In this lady’s character was blended that sweetness of manners, that at once engaged the partiality of the stranger, soothed the sorrows of the afflicted, and relieved the anguish of poverty, even in the manner of extending her charitable hand to the sufferer.
 Thus possessed of all the virtues that adorn her sex, Mrs. Washington now contemplated the completion of her happiness; and observed afterwards in a letter to the author, that she
little thought when the war was finished, that any circumstance could possibly happen to call the general into public life again; that she anticipated that from that moment they should have grown old together, in solitude and tranquillity:—this, my dear madam, was the first and fondest wish of my heart. *
But general Washington had yet much to do on the theatre of public action; much for his own fame, and much for the extrication of his country from difficulties apprehended by some, but not yet realized.
America has fought for the boon of liberty; she has successfully and honorably obtained it: she has now a rank among the nations: it was now the duty of the wise and patriotic characters who had by inconceivable labor and exertion obtained the prize, to guard on every side that it might not be sported away by the folly of the people, or the intrigue or deception of their rulers. They had to watch at all points, that her dignity was not endangered, nor her independence renounced, by too servilely copying  either the fashionable vices or the political errors of those countries, where the inhabitants are become unfit for any character but that of master and slave.
Thus, after the dissolution of the American army, the withdrawing of the French troops, the retirement of general Washington, and the retreat of the fleets and armies of the king of Great Britain, a solemnity and stillness appeared, which was like the general pause of nature before the concussion of an earthquake. The state of men’s minds seemed for a short time to be palsied by the retrospect of dangers encountered to break off the fetters, and the hazards surmounted to sweep away the claims, and cut the leading strings in which they had been held by the crown of Britain.
But though the connexion was now dissolved, and the gordian knot of union between Great Britain and America cut in sunder; though the independence of the United States was, by the treaty, clearly established on the broad basis of liberty; yet the Americans felt themselves in such a state of infancy, that as a child just learning to walk, they were afraid of their own movements. Their debts were unpaid, their governments unsettled, and the people out of breath by their long struggle for the freedom and independence of their country. They  were become poor from the loss of trade, the neglect of their usual occupations, and the drains from every quarter for the support of a long and expensive war.
From the versatility of human affairs, and the encroaching spirit of man, it was yet uncertain when and how the states would be tranquillized, and the union consolidated, under wise, energetic, and free modes of government; or whether such, if established, would be administered agreeable to laws founded on the beautiful theory of republicanism, depictured in the closets of philosophers, and idolized in the imagination of most of the inhabitants of America.
It is indeed true, that from a general attention to early education, the people of the United States were better informed in many branches of literature, than the common classes of men in most other countries. Yet many of them had but a superficial knowledge of mankind; they were ignorant of the intrigues of courts, and though convinced of the necessity of government, did not fully understand its nature or origin; they had generally supposed there was little to do, but to shake off the yoke of foreign domination, and annihilate the name of king.
 They were not generally sensible, that most established modes of strong government are usually the consequences of fraud or violence, against the systems of democratic theorists. They were not sensible, that from age to age the people are flattered, deceived, or threatened, until the hood-winked multitude set their own seals to a renunciation of their privileges, and with their own hands rivet the chains of servitude on their posterity. They were totally fearless of the intrigues or the ambition of their own countrymen, which might in time render fruitless the expense of their blood and their treasures. These they had freely lavished to secure their equality of condition, their easy modes of subsistence, and their exemption from public burdens beyond the necessary demands for the support of a free and equal government. But it was not long before they were awakened to new energies, by convulsions both at home and abroad.
New created exigencies, or more splendid modes of government that might hereafter be adopted, had not yet come within the reach of their calculations. Of these, few had yet formed any adequate ideas, and fewer indeed were sensible, that though the name of liberty delights the ear, and tickles the fond pride of man, it is a jewel much oftener the play-thing of his imagination, than a possession of real stability: it may be acquired to-day in all the triumph of  independent feelings, but perhaps to-morrow the world may be convinced, that mankind know not how to make a proper use of the prize, generally bartered in a short time, as a useless bauble, to the first officious master that will take the burden from the mind, by laying another on the shoulders of ten-fold weight.
This is the usual course of human conduct, however painful the reflection may be to the patriot in retirement, and to the philosopher absorbed in theoretic disquisitions on human liberty, or the portion of natural and political freedom to which man has a claim. The game of deception is played over and over to mislead the judgment of men, and work on their enthusiasm, until by their own consent, hereditary crowns and distinctions are fixed, and some scion of royal descent is entailed upon them forever. Thus by habit they are ready to believe, that mankind in general are incapable of the enjoyment of that liberty which nature seems to prescribe, and that the mass of the people have not the capacity nor the right to choose their own masters.
The generous and disinterested of all nations must, however, wish to see the American republic fixed on such a stable basis, as to become the admiration of the world. Future generations will then look back with gratitude, on the era which wafted their ancestors from the European  shores: they will never forget the energetic struggles of their fathers, to secure the natural rights of men. These are improved in society, and strengthened by civil compacts: these have been established in the United States by a race of independent spirits, who have freed their posterity from the feudal vassalage of hereditary lords. It is to be hoped, that the grim shades of despotic kings will never hover in the clouds of the American hemisphere, to bedizzen the heads of the sons of Columbia, by imaginary ideas of the splendid beams of royalty.
Let it never be said of such a favored nation as America has been, as was observed by an ancient historian, on the rise, the glory, and the fall of the republic of Athens, that “the inconstancy of the people was the most striking characteristic of its history.” We have, with the historian who depictured the Athenian character, viewed with equal astonishment, the valor of our soldiers and the penetration of the statesmen of America. We wish for the duration of her virtue; we sigh at every appearance of decline; and perhaps, from a dread of deviations, we may be suspicious of their approach when none are designed.
It is a more agreeable anticipation to every humane mind, to contemplate the glory, the happiness, the freedom, and peace, which may for ages to come pervade this new-born nation,  emancipated by the uncommon vigor, valor, fortitude, and patriotism of her soldiers and statesmen. They seemed to have been remarkably directed by the finger of Divine Providence, and led on from step to step beyond their own expectations, to exhibit to the view of distant nations, millions freed from the bondage of a foreign yoke, by that spirit of freedom, virtue, and perseverance, which they had generally displayed from their first emigrations to the wilderness, to the present day.
Let us here pause a few moments, and survey the vast continent of America, where the reflecting mind retrospects and realizes the beautiful description of the wide wilderness, before it became a fruitful field; before “the rivers were open in high places, and fountains in the midst of the vallies;” when He who created them pronounced,
I will plant the cedar, the myrtle, and the oil-tree; I will set in the desart the fir-tree, and the pine, and the box-tree together; that all may see, and know, and consider, and understand together, that the hand of the Lord hath done this, and the Holy One of Israel hath created it.*
Let the striking contrast, since the forest has been made to blossom as the rose, be viewed in  such an impressive light, as to operate on the mind of every son and daughter of America, and lead to the uniform practice of public and private virtue.
From the education, the habits, and the general law of kindness, which has been nurtured among the children of those pious worthies who first left the pleasant and prolific shores of Europe, and took up their residence in the bosom of a wilderness, to secure the peaceful enjoyment of civil and religious liberty, it may reasonably be expected, that such a unanimity may long be preserved among their posterity, as to prevent the fatal havoc which dissension and war have brought on most nations found in the records of time.
The mind now rejoices to return from the scenes of war in which it has been immersed, and feels itself sufficiently collected to take an abstracted view of the condition of human nature. Here we might, before we leave the local circumstances of America, survey the contrasts exhibited in their conduct, by a world of beings who boast their rationality: we might indulge some moments of reflection and calm contemplation, on the infinite variety of combinations in the powers of the human mind, as well as the contrarieties that make up the character  of man. But amidst the various images which present, in viewing the complex state of man, we will only add in this place, a few observations on their hostile dispositions toward each other.
It must appear among the wonders of Divine Providence, that a creature endowed with reason should, through all ages and generations, be permitted the wanton destruction of his own species. The barbarous butchery of his fellow-mortals, exhibits man an absurd and ferocious, instead of a rational and humane being. May it not be among the proofs of some general lapse from the original law of rectitude, that no age or nation since the death of Abel, has been exempt from the havoc of war? Pride, avarice, injustice, and ambition, have set every political wheel in motion, to hurry out of existence one half the species by the hands of the other.
The folly of mankind in making war on each other, is strongly delineated on the conclusion of almost every hostile dispute; and perhaps this folly was never more clearly exhibited than in that between Great Britain and her former colonies. Each circumstance will in future be weighed, when the world will judge of the great balance of advantage to the one country or the other, on the termination of the struggle.
 A full detail of the sufferings of the English nation, in consequence of the absurd war upon their colonies, may be left to more voluminous writers; while we only observe, that Great Britain lost an extensive territory containing millions of subjects, the fruits of whose genius and industry she might have reaped for ages, had she not been avaricious of a revenue by methods, which neither the much boasted constitution of Englishmen, or the laws of prudence or equity, could justify. . . . She lost the extensive commerce of a country growing in arts and population, to an astonishing degree. . . . She lost the friendship of thousands, and created the alienation of millions, that may last forever. . . . She lost a nursery for seamen, that had replenished her navy from the first settlement of America. . . . She lost, by the best British calculations, an hundred thousand of her best soldiers, either by sickness or the sword, and a proportionate number of most gallant officers* . . . . She sunk an immensity of her treasures for the support of her armies and navies, for the execution of the chimerical project of subduing the colonies by arms, which by justice, protection, friendship, and a reciprocity of kind offices, would have been her’s for ages.
And what has she gained by the contest?—surely not an increase of honor or reputation.  Corroborative evidence of these truths may be drawn from the testimony of British writers. A very sensible man† of this class has observed, that
Thus ended the most unfortunate war in which England has ever been engaged; a war commenced in the very wantonness of pride and folly, which had for its object to deprive America of the rights for which our ancestors have contended; a war, the professed object of which was, to levy a tax that would not have paid the collectors; a war conducted with the same weakness and incapacity on the part of the British ministry, with which it was commenced; which might in the early stages of the dispute have been avoided by the smallest concession; and which might have been terminated with honor, but for the incorrigible obstinacy and unparalleled folly of the worst administration that ever disgraced the country. This deplorable war has ended in the dismemberment of a considerable part of the British empire, cost the nation more money than the ever memorable campaigns of Marlborough, and the still more glorious war of lord Chatham; more indeed than all the wars in which Great Britain has been engaged since the revolution, to the peace of Aix la Chapelle.
On the other hand, it may be proper here to take a survey of the United States, and to view  them on every ground. They have struggled with astonishing success for the rights of mankind, and have emancipated themselves from the shackles of foreign power. America has indeed obtained incalculable advantages by the revolution; but in the innumerable list of evils attendant on a state of war, she, as well as Great Britain, has lost her thousands of brave soldiers, veteran officers, hardy seamen, and meritorious citizens, that perished in the field, or in captivity, in prison-ships, and in the wilderness, since the beginning of the conflict. She has lost an immense property by the conflagration of her cities, and the waste of wealth by various other means. She has in a great measure lost her simplicity of manners, and those ideas of mediocrity which are generally the parent of content; the Americans are already in too many instances hankering after the sudden accumulation of wealth, and the proud distinctions of fortune and title. They have too far lost that general sense of moral obligation, formerly felt by all classes in America. The people have not indeed generally lost their veneration for religion, but it is to be regretted, that in the unlicensed liberality of opinion there have been some instances, where the fundamental principles of truth have been obscured. This may in some measure have arisen from their late connexions with other nations; and this circumstance may account for the readiness of many, to engraft  foreign follies and crimes with their own weak propensities to imitation, and to adopt their errors and fierce ambition, instead of making themselves a national character, marked with moderation, justice, benignity, and all the mild virtues of humanity.
But when the seeds of revolution are planted, and the shoots have expanded, the various causes which contribute to their growth, and to the introduction of a change of manners, are too many to recount. The effervescence of party rage sets open the flood-gates of animosity, and renders it impossible to calculate with any degree of accuracy, on subsequent events. Not the most perspicacious human eye can foresee, amidst the imperious spirit of disunion, and the annihilation of former habits and connexions, the benefits that may result from the exertions of virtue, or the evils that may arise from problematic characters which come forward, the new-born offspring of confusion, and assume merit from the novelty of their projects, and the inscrutability of their designs. These are like hot-bed plants, started from extraneous causes; prematurely forced into existence, they are incapable of living but in the sunshine of meridian day. Such characters often hurry into irretrievable mischief, before time has ripened the systems of men of more principle and judgment.
 Thus, after the conclusion of peace, and the acknowledgment of the independence of the United States by Great Britain, the situation of America appeared similar to that of a young heir, who had prematurely become possessed of a rich inheritance, while his inexperience and his new felt independence had intoxicated him so far, as to render him incapable of weighing the intrinsic value of his estate, and had left him without discretion or judgment to improve it to the best advantage of his family.
The inhabitants of the United States had much to experiment in the new rank they had taken, and the untrodden ground which they were now to explore, replete with difficulties not yet digested or apprehended by the most sagacious statesmen. They had obtained their independence by a long and perilous struggle against a powerful nation: we now view them just emancipated from a foreign yoke, the blessings of peace restored upon honorable terms, with the liberty of forming their own governments, enacting their own laws, choosing their own magistrates, and adopting manners the most favorable to freedom and happiness. Yet it is possible that their virtue is not sufficiently stedfast, to avail themselves of those superior advantages.
The restless nature of man is forever kindling a fire, and collecting fuel to keep the  flame alive, that consumes one half the globe, without the smallest advantage to the other, either in a moral or in a political view. Men profit little by the observations, the sufferings, or the opinions of others: it is with nations as with individuals, they must try their own projects, and frequently learn wisdom only by their own mistakes. It is undoubtedly true, that all mankind learn more from experience than from intuitive wisdom: their foolish passions too generally predominate over their virtues; this civil liberty, political and private happiness, are frequently bartered away for the gratification of vanity, or the aggrandizement of a few individuals, who have art enough to fascinate the undistinguishing multitude.
If the conduct of the United States should stand upon record, as a striking example of the truth of this observation, it must be remembered that this is not a trait peculiar to the character of America, it is the story of man; past ages bear testimony to its authenticity, and future events will convince the unbelieving.
It is an unpleasing part of history, when “corruption begins to prevail, when degeneracy marks the manners of the people, and weakens the sinews of the state.” If this should ever become the deplorable situation of the United States, let some unborn historian,  in a far distant day, detail the lapse, and hold up the contrast between a simple, virtuous, and free people, and a degenerate, servile race of beings, corrupted by wealth, effeminated by luxury, impoverished by licentiousness, and become the automatons of intoxicated ambition.
C H A P T E R X X X I
Supplementary Observations on succeeding Events, after the Termination of the American Revolution • Insurrection in the Massachusetts • A general Convention of the States • A new Constitution adopted—General Washington chosen President • British Treaty negotiated by Mr. Jay • General Washington’s second Retreat from public Life • General Observations
 The narration of the revolutionary war between Great Britain and her former colonies, brought down to its termination, leaves the mind at leisure for more general observations on the subsequent consequences, without confining it to time or place.
At the conclusion of the war between Great Britain and America, after the rejection of the claims of a potent foreign nation, the dissevering of old bands of governmental arrangement, and new ones were adopted, the proud feelings of personal independence warmed every bosom, and general ideas of civil and religious liberty were disseminated far and wide.
On the restoration of peace, the soldier had returned to the bosom of his family, and the artisan and the husbandman were stimulated to new improvements; genius was prompted  to exertion, by the wide field opened by the revolution, and encouraged by the spirit of inquiry to climb the heights of literature, until it might stand conspicuous on the summit of fame.
Under such circumstances, every free mind should be tenacious of supporting the honor of a national character, and the dignity of independence. This claim must be supported by their own sobriety, economy, industry, and perseverance in every virtue. It must be nurtured by that firmness and principle that induced their ancestors to fly from the hostile arm of tyranny, and to explore and begin a new nation in the forlorn and darksome bosom of a distant wilderness. The social compacts, the religion, the manners, and the habits of these wandering strangers, and their immediate successors, taught their sons the noble example of fortitude and love of freedom, that has led them to resist the encroachments of kings and nobles, and to dissipate the cloud that threatened to envelope the mind in darkness, and spread the veil of ignorance over the bright hemisphere that encircles the children of Columbia.
Indeed America was at this period possessed of a prize, replete with advantages seldom thrown into the hand of any people. Divided by nature from three parts of the globe, which  have groaned under tyrants of various descriptions, from time immemorial, who have slaughtered their millions to feed the ambition of princes, she was possessed of an immense territory, the soil fertile and productive, her population increasing, her commerce unfettered, her resources ample. She was now uncontrolled by foreign laws; and her domestic manufactures might be encouraged, without any fear of check from abroad: and under the influence of a spirit of enterprise, very advantageous in a young country, she was looking forward with expectations of extending her commerce to every part of the globe.
Nothing seemed to be wanting to the United States but a continuance of their union and virtue. It was their interest to cherish true, genuine republican virtue, in politics; and in religion, a strict adherence to a sublime code of morals, which has never been equalled by the sages of ancient time, nor can ever be abolished by the sophistical reasonings of modern philosophers. Possessed of this palladium, America might bid defiance both to foreign and domestic intrigue, and stand on an eminence that would command the veneration of nations, and the respect of their monarchs: but a defalcation from these principles may leave the sapless vine of liberty to droop, or to be rooted out by the hand that had been stretched out to nourish it.
 If, instead of the independent feelings of ancient republics, whose prime object was the welfare and happiness of their country, we should see a dereliction of those principles, and the Americans ready to renounce their great advantages, by the imitation of European systems in politics and manners, it would be a melancholy trait in the story of man: yet they, like other nations, may in time, by their servility to men in power, or by a chimerical pursuit of the golden fleece of the poets, become involved in a mist ascending from the pit of avarice. This may lead to peculation, to usurious contracts, to illegal and dishonest projects, and to every private vice, to support the factitious appearances of grandeur and wealth, which can never maintain the claim to that rich inheritance which they so bravely defended.
Thus it was but a short time after the restoration of peace, and the exhilarating view of the innumerable benefits obtained by the general acknowledgment among foreign nations of the independence of America, before the brightened prospect, which had recently shone with so much splendor, was beclouded by the face of general discontent. New difficulties arose, and embarrassments thickened, which called for the exercise of new energies, activity, and wisdom.
 The sudden sinking of the value of landed, and indeed of all other real property, immediately on the peace, involved the honest and industrious farmer in innumerable difficulties. The produce of a few acres had been far from sufficient for the support of a family, and at the same time to supply the necessary demands for the use of the army, when from the scarcity of provisions every article thereof bore an enhanced price, while their resources were exhausted, and their spirits wasted under an accumulated load of debt.
The general congress was yet without any compulsory powers, to enforce the liquidation of public demands; and the state legislatures totally at a loss how to devise any just and ready expedient for the relief of private debtors. It was thought necessary by some to advert again to a paper medium, and by others this was viewed with the utmost abhorrence: indeed the iniquitous consequences of a depreciating currency had been recently felt too severely, by all classes, to induce any to embrace a second time with cordiality such a dangerous expedient. Thus, from various circumstances, the state of both public and private affairs presented a very serious and alarming aspect.
The patriotic feelings of the yeomanry of the country, had prompted them to the utmost  exertions for the public service. Unwilling to withhold their quota of the tax of beef, blankets, and other necessaries indispensable for the soldiery, exposed to cold and hunger, many of them had been induced to contract debts which could not be easily liquidated, and which it was impossible to discharge by the products from the usual occupations of husbandry. While at the same time, the rage for privateering and traffic, by which some had suddenly grown rich, had induced others to look with indifference on the ideas of a more moderate accumulation of wealth. They sold their patrimonial inheritance for trifling considerations, in order to raise ready specie for adventure in some speculative project. This, with many other causes, reduced the price of land to so low a rate, that the most valuable farms, and the best accommodated situations, were depreciated to such a degree, that those who were obliged to alienate real property were bankrupted by the sales.
The state of trade, and the derangement of commercial affairs, were equally intricate and distressing at the close of the war. The natural eagerness of the mercantile body to take every advantage that presented in that line, induced many, immediately on the peace, to send forward for large quantities of goods from England, France, and Holland, and wherever else they could gain a credit. Thus the markets  loaded with every article of luxury, as well as necessaries, and the growing scarcity of specie united with the reduced circumstances of many who had formerly been wealthy, the enormous importations either lay upon hand, or obliged the possessor to sell without any advance, and in many instances much under the prime cost. In addition to these embarrassments on the mercantile interest, the whole country, from north to south, was filled with British factors, with their cargoes of goods directly from the manufacturers, who drew customers to their stores from all classes that were able to purchase. Every capital was crowded with British agents, sent over to collect debts contracted long before the war, who took advantage of the times, oppressed the debtor, and purchased the public securities from all persons whose necessities obliged them to sell, at the monstrous discount of seventeen shillings and six pence on the pound. At the same time, the continent swarmed with British emissaries, who sowed discord among the people, infused jealousies, and weakened their reliance on the public faith, and destroyed all confidence between man and man.
Nor did religion or morals appreciate amidst the confusion of a long war, which is ever unfavorable to virtue, and to all those generous principles which ennoble the human character, much more than ribbons, stars, and other playthings  of a distempered imagination. These soon sink to the level of their own insignificance, and leave the sanguine admirer sickened by the chace of ideal felicity.
The wide field of more minute observation on these great and important subjects, shall at present be waved. Agriculture may be left to the philosophic theorist, who may speculate on the real value and product of the lands, in a country in such an improveable state as that of America; while the advance in the profits of the husbandman must be estimated by the ratio of future experiment. The statesman versed in the commerce and politics of Europe, and the commercial treaties which may be, or have already been formed, has a labyrinth to trace, and investigations to unfold, before every thing can be fixed on the principles of equity and reciprocity, that will give complete satisfaction to all nations. Religious discussions we leave to the observation of the theologian, who, however human nature may be vilified by some and exalted by others, traces the moral causes and effects that operate on the soul of man. The effects only are level to the common eye, which weeps that the result is more frequently productive of misery than felicity to his fellow beings.
Besides the circumstances already hinted, various other combinations caused a cloud of chagrin  to sit on almost every brow, and a general uneasiness to pervade the bosoms of most of the inhabitants of America. This was discoverable on every occasion; they complained of the governments of their own instituting, and of congress, whose powers were too feeble for the redress of private wrongs, or the more public and general purposes of government. They murmured at the commutation which congress had agreed to, for the compensation of the army. They felt themselves under the pressure of burdens, for which they had not calculated; the pressure of debts and taxes beyond their ability to pay. These discontents artificially wrought up, by men who wished for a more strong and splendid government, broke out into commotion in many parts of the country, and finally terminated in open insurrection in some of the states.
This general uneasy and refractory spirit had for some time shewn itself in the states of New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and some other portions of the union; but the Massachusetts seemed to be the seat of sedition. Bristol, Middlesex, and the western counties, Worcester, Hampshire, and Berkshire, were more particularly culpable. The people met in county conventions, drew up addresses to the general assembly, to which were annexed long lists of grievances, some of them real, others imaginary. They drew up many resolves, some of  which were rational, others unjust, and most of them absurd in the extreme. They censured the conduct of the officers of government, called for a revision of the constitution, voted the senate and judicial courts to be grievances, and proceeded in a most daring and insolent manner to prevent the sitting of the courts of justice, in the several counties.
The ignorance* of this incendiary and turbulent set of people, might lead them to a justification of their own measures, from a recurrence to transactions in some degree similar in the early opposition to British government. They had neither the information, nor the sagacity to discern the different grounds of complaint. Nor could they make proper distinctions with regard to the oppressions complained of under the crown of Britain, and the temporary burdens they now felt, which are ever the concomitants and consequences of war. They knew that a successful opposition had been made to the authority of Britain, while they were under the dominion of the king of England; but they were too ignorant to distinguish between an  opposition to regal despotism, and a resistance to a government recently established by themselves.
County meetings and conventions, and the opposition of the body of the people to submit to judiciary proceedings, in direct violation of their charter, and the stipulated indulgencies which they claimed in common with their fellow subjects in Great Britain, wore a very different aspect from those of the clamorous and tumultuary proceedings of the Massachusetts’ insurgents. These were violating the constitutions of their own forming, and endeavouring to prostrate all legal institutions, before they were cemented on the strong basis of a firm and well established government.
Those disturbances were for a time truly alarming, and gave cause for serious apprehensions that civil convulsions might spread through the country within the short term of three or four years after independence had been established, and peace restored to the United States of America. Under existing circumstances, the high-handed and threatening proceedings of the insurgents wore a very formidable aspect. There were among them very many men hardy, bold and veteran, who had been very serviceable in the field during the late revolutionary war. They had assembled in great numbers, in various places, and at different times,  and seemed to bid defiance to all law, order, and government.
In the winter of one thousand seven hundred and eighty-six, several thousands of those disorderly persons armed and embodied, and appeared in the environs of Springfield. They chose for their leader a man who had been a subaltern officer* in the revolutionary war, threatened to march to Boston, and by compulsory measures oblige the governor and general assembly to redress the grievances of the people, which they alleged were brought upon them by enormous taxation, and other severities from their own government: they however thought proper to send forward a petition, instead of marching sword in hand to the capital.
In the mean time, the exertions and the resolves of the legislative body, with a view of relieving the public distresses, only increased the discontents of the people. They were much divided in opinion, relative to the best modes of quieting the disturbances. Tender laws and sumptuary regulations were superficial expedients, that like paper money eventually would increase, rather than eradicate the evils complained of; while the temper of the people of various descriptions, and from various  motives, augured an approaching crisis that might produce convulsions too extensive for calculation.
In this situation of affairs, the governor was empowered by the legislature to order a military force to be in readiness to march, under the command of general Lincoln. The temerity of the insurgents had emboldened them to move forward in hostile array, which made it necessary to direct general Lincoln to give a check to their insolence, and to restore peace and order to the state. But before the troops from the lower counties had collected at Worcester, great numbers of the insurgents had embodied, and moved forward to Springfield, with a design to attack the continental arsenal: this was defended by general Shepard, who took every precaution to prevent the shedding of blood. He expostulated with their leaders, and warned them against the fatal consequences of perseverance in their rebellious and hostile proceedings: they however neglected the warning, and rushed on in the face of danger; this obliged general Shepard to fire upon them, which so disconcerted them that they immediately retreated. General Lincoln reached Springfield about the same time, which entirely defeated this project; the field was left with dismay, and with the loss only of two or three of their party. The next movement of any importance was their again collecting from all  quarters, and taking a position on the heights of Pelham.
General Lincoln, unwilling to see his countrymen involved in a war among themselves, passed on to Hadley without proceeding to extremities. There he received letters from some of the leaders of the insurgent parties, and with his usual mildness and humanity endeavoured to persuade them to quit their hostile parade, and by their peaceable demeanor to render themselves worthy of the lenity of government, which was ready, on their return to proper submission, to extend a general pardon, and throw a veil of oblivion over past transactions: but there appeared no signs of repentance, or of a relinquishment of their atrocious projects; and though without system, or any determinate object, and without men of talents to direct, or even to countenance, their disorderly conduct, in any stage of the business, they soon moved from Pelham in a strong body, entered and halted in the town of Petersham.
General Lincoln heard of the decampment of Shays and his followers from Pelham, at twelve o’clock, and had certain intelligence by the hour of six that they had moved on to Petersham. Convinced of the necessity of a quick march, he ordered his troops to be ready at a moment’s warning. By eight o’clock they  began their route. Notwithstanding the intrepidity of general Lincoln, when immediate hazard required enterprise, he would not have exposed his troops to a march of thirty miles, in one of the severest nights of a remarkably severe winter, had not the entrance of the evening been mild and serene. The sky unclouded, and the moon in full splendor, they began their march under the promise of a more easy termination; but after a few hours the wind rose, the clouds gathered blackness, and the cold was so intense that it was scarcely supportable by the hardiest of his followers: nothing but the quickness of their motion prevented many of his men from falling victims to the severity of the season. The difficulty of their march was increased by a deep snow that had previously fallen, and lain so uncemented that the gusts drove it in the faces of the army with the violence of a rapid snow storm. They however reached Petersham before nine o’clock the next morning, but so miserably fatigued and frost bitten, that few of them were fit for service; and had not a general panic seized the insurgents, on the first alarm of the approach of the government troops, they might have met them with great slaughter, if not with total defeat; but though in warm quarters, well supplied with arms and provisions, they left this advantageous post with the greatest precipitation, and fled in all directions.
 General Lincoln was not in a capacity for immediate pursuit; it was necessary to halt and refresh his men: besides, his known humanity was such, that he might be willing they should scatter and disappear, without being pushed to submission by the point of the sword. The insurgents never again appeared in a collective body, but spread themselves over the several parts of the western counties, and even into the neighbouring states, plundering, harassing, and terrifying the inhabitants, and nourishing the seeds of discontent and sedition, that had before been scattered amongst them. It was not long before general Lincoln pursued and captured many of them, who implored and experienced the clemency of the commander, and only a few were taken into custody for future trial. Thus those internal commotions, which had threatened a general convulsion, were so far quelled, that most of the troops returned to Boston early in the spring. Before his return, general Lincoln marched to the borders of the state, and found many in the counties of Hampshire and Berkshire, ready to take the oath of allegiance, with all the marks of contrition for their late guilty conduct. Commissioners were afterwards sent forward, with powers to pardon, after due inquiry into the present temper and conduct of individuals: to administer the oath of allegiance to the penitent, and to restore to the confidence of their country all such as  were not stigmatized by flagitious and murderous conduct.
Perhaps no man could have acted with more firmness, precision, and judgment, than did governor Bowdoin, through the turbulent period of two years, in which he presided in the Massachusetts: yet notwithstanding his conspicuous talents, and the public and private virtues which adorned his character, the popular current set strongly against him on the approaching annual election; and governor Hancock, who had once resigned the chair, was again requested to resume his former dignified station, and was brought forward and chosen with eclat and expectation. He did not however contravene the wise measures of his predecessor. He was equally vigilant to quiet the perturbed spirits of the people, and to restore general tranquillity: this he did by coercive or lenient measures, as circumstances required; and by his disinterested conduct, and masterly address, he was very influential in overcoming the remains of a factious and seditious spirit that had prevailed. Thus he did himself much honor, and acquired the applause of his constituents.
The governor was authorised by the legislature to keep in pay any number of troops that might be thought necessary to preserve the public peace. Eight hundred men were stationed  on the western borders of the state, but before the summer elapsed the insurgents were so generally subdued that the troops were recalled and dismissed.
The governors of all the neighbouring states had been requested not to receive or protect any of the guilty party, who had fled for security within their limits. These were all so sensibly impressed with the danger of disunion and anarchy, which had threatened the whole, that they readily gave assurances of detection, if any should flatter themselves with impunity, by flying without the jurisdiction of their own government. Several of the most notorious offenders were secured, and tried by the supreme judicial court, and received sentence of death; but the compassion of the people, coinciding with the humane disposition of the governor, induced him to grant reprieves from time to time, and finally prevented the loss of life by the hand of civil justice, in a single instance.
Thus, by well-timed lenity, and decided energy, as the exigencies of the moment required, was terminated an insurrection, that, by its dangerous example, threatened the United States with a general rupture, that might have been more fatal than foreign war, to their freedom, virtue, and prosperity. But though the late disturbances were quelled, and the turbulent  spirit, which had been so alarming, was subdued by a small military force, yet it awakened all to a full view of the necessity of concert and union in measures that might preserve their internal peace. This required the regulation of commerce on some stable principles, and some steps for the liquidation of both public and private debts. They also saw it necessary to invest congress with sufficient powers for the execution of their own laws, for all general purposes relative to the union.
A convention was appointed by the several states, to meet at Annapolis, in the state of Maryland, in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty-six, for these salutary purposes; but the work was too complicated: the delegates separated without doing any thing, and a new convention was called the next year, to meet at Philadelphia, with the same design, but without any enlargement of their powers; they however framed a new constitution of government, and sent it for the consideration and adoption of the several states: and though it was thought by many to be too strongly marked with the features of monarchy, it was, after much discussion, adopted by a majority of the states.
We must consult the human heart, says the marquis Beccaria, for the foundation of the rights of both sovereign and people.
If we  look into history, we shall find, that laws which are or ought to be conventions between men in a state of freedom, have been, for the most part, the work of the passions of a few, or the consequences of a fortuitous, temporary necessity, not dictated by a cool examiner of human nature, who knew how to collect in one point the actions of a multitude, and had this only end in view, the greatest happiness of the greatest number.
It was thought by some, who had been recently informed of the secret transactions of the convention at Philadelphia, that the greatest happiness of the greatest number was not the principal object of their contemplations, when they ordered their doors to be locked, their members inhibited from all communications abroad, and when proposals were made that their journals should be burnt, lest their consultations and debates should be viewed by the scrutinizing eye of a free people.* These extraordinary  movements appeared to them the result of the passions of a few. It is certain, that truth, whether moral, philosophical, or political, shrinks not from the eye of investigation.
The ideas of royalty, or any thing that wore the appearance of regal forms and institutions, were generally disgusting to Americans, and particularly so to many characters who early came forward, and continued to the end of the conflict, stedfast in opposition to the crown of Britain. They thought that after America had encountered the power, and obtained a release from foreign bondage, and had recently overcome domestic difficulties and discontents, and even quieted the spirit of insurrection in their own states; that the republican system for which they had fought, should not be hazarded by vesting any man or body of men with powers that might militate with the principles, which had been cherished with fond enthusiasm, by a large majority of the inhabitants throughout the union.
Republicanism, the idol of some men, and independence, the glory of all, were thought by many to be in danger of dwindling into theory; the first had been defaced for a time, by a degree of anarchy, and fears were now awakened that the last might be annihilated by views of private ambition.
 The people were generally dissatisfied with the high pretensions of the officers of the army, whose equality of condition previous to the war, was, with few exceptions, on the same grade with themselves. The assumption of an appropriate rank was disgusting, in a set of men, who had most of them been taken from mechanic employments, or the sober occupations of agriculture. Thus jealousies were diffused, with regard to the officers of the old army, the Cincinnati, and several other classes of men, whom they suspected as cherishing hopes and expectations of erecting a government too splendid for the taste and professions of Americans. They saw a number of young gentlemen coming forward, ardent and sanguine in the support of the principles of monarchy and aristocracy. They saw a number of professional characters too ready to relinquish former opinions, and adopt new ones more congenial to the policy of courts, than to the maxims of a free people. They saw some apostate whigs in public employments, and symptoms of declension in others, which threatened the annihilation of the darling opinion, that the whole sovereignty in the republican system is in the people: “that the people have a right to amend and alter, or annul their constitution and frame a new one, whenever they shall think it will better promote their own welfare and happiness to do it.”*
 This brought forward objections to the proposed constitution of government, then under consideration. These objections were not the result of ignorance; they were made by men of the first abilities in every state; men who were sensible of the necessity of strong and energetic institutions, and a strict subordination and obedience to law. These judicious men were solicitous that every thing should be clearly defined; they were jealous of each ambiguity in law or government, or the smallest circumstance that might have a tendency to curtail the republican system, or render ineffectual the sacrifices they had made, for the security of civil and religious liberty to themselves; they also wished for the transmission of the enjoyment of the equal rights of man to their latest posterity. They were of opinion, that every article that admitted of double confusion, should be amended, before it became the supreme law of the land. They were now apprehensive of being precipitated, without due consideration, into the adoption of a system that might bind them and their posterity in the chains of despotism, while they held up the ideas of a free and equal participation of the privileges of pure and genuine republicanism.
Warm debates in favor of further consideration, and much energetic argument took place, between gentlemen of the first abilities, in several of the state conventions. The system was  ratified in haste by a sufficient number of states to carry it into operation, and amendments left to the wisdom, justice, and decision of future generations, according as exigencies might require.* This was not sufficient to dissipate the apprehensions of gentlemen who had been uniform and upright in their intentions, and immoveably fixed in the principles of the revolution, and had never turned their eyes from the point in pursuit, until the independence of America was acknowledged by the principal monarchs in Europe.
But while the system was under discussion, strong objections were brought forward in the conventions of the several states. Those gentlemen who were opposed to the adoption of the new constitution in toto, observed, that there was no bill of rights to guard against future innovations. They complained that the trial by jury in civil causes was not secured; they observed, that some of the warmest partisans, who had been disposed to adopt without examination, had started at the discovery, that this essential right was curtailed; that the powers of the executive and judiciary were dangerously blended: that the appellate jurisdiction  of the supreme federal court, subjected the inhabitants of the United States, by a litigious process that militated with the rights formerly claimed by the individual states, to be drawn from one end of the continent to the other, for trial. They wished for a rotation in office, or some sufficient bar against the perpetuity of it, in the same hands for life; they thought it necessary there should be this check to the overbearing influence of office, and that every man should be rendered ineligible at certain periods, to keep the mind in equilibrio, and teach him the feelings of the governed, and better qualify him to govern in his turn. It was also observed by them, that all sources of revenue formerly possessed by the individual states were now under the control of congress.
Subsequent measures were not yet realized; banks, monopolies, and a funding system, were projects that had never been thought of, in the early stages of an infant republic, and had they been suggested before the present period, would have startled both the soldier and the peasant. The sober principled statesmen, and the judicious band of worthies, who organized the system of freedom, digested it in the cabinet, and conducted the public councils, which led to the independence of America, with a firm, disinterested magnanimity, and an energy seldom found in the courts of princes would have revolted at those ideas. Nor were they  less alarmed at the contemplation of a president with princely powers, a sextennial senate, biennial elections of representatives, and a federal city, “whose cloud-capt towers” might screen the state culprit from the hand of justice, while its exclusive jurisdiction might, in some future day, protect the riot of standing armies encamped within its limits. These were prospects viewed by them with the utmost abhorrence.
Indeed the opinions of the gentlemen who formed the general convention, differed very widely, on many of the articles of the new constitution, before it was sent abroad for the discussion of the people at large. Some of them seceded, and retired without signing at all, others complied from a conviction of the necessity of accommodation and concession, lest they should be obliged to separate without any efficient measures, that would produce the salutary purposes for which many characters of the first abilities had been convened. The philosophic doctor Franklin observed, when he sent his signature to the adoption of the new constitution, “that its complexion was doubtful; that it might last for ages, involve one quarter of the globe, and probably terminate in despotism.”* He signed the instrument for the  consolidation of the government of the United States with tears, and apologized for doing it at all, from the doubts and apprehensions he felt, that his countrymen might not be able to do better, even if they called a new convention.
Many of the intelligent yeomanry and of the great bulk of independent landholders, who had tasted the sweets of mediocrity, equality, and liberty, read every unconditional ratification of the new system in silent anguish, folded the solemn page with a sigh, and wept over the names of the native sons of America, who had sold their lives to leave the legacy of freedom to their children. On this appearance of a consolidated government, which they thought required such important amendments, they feared that a dereliction of some of their choicest privileges might be sealed, without duly considering the fatal consequences of too much precipitation. “The right of taxation, and the command of the military,” says an ingenious writer, “is the completion of despotism.” The last of these was consigned to the hands of the president, and the first they feared would be too much under his influence. The observers of human conduct were not insensible, that too much power vested in the hands of any individual, was liable to abuses, either from his own passions, or the suggestions of others, of less upright and immaculate intentions than himself.
 Of thirteen state conventions, to which the constitution was submitted, those of Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and Georgia, ratified it unconditionally, and those of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, and South Carolina, in full confidence of amendments, which they thought necessary, and proposed to the first congress; the other two, of Rhode Island and North Carolina, rejected it. Thus, it is evident that a majority of the states were convinced that the constitution, as at first proposed, endangered their liberties; that to the opposition in the federal and state conventions, are the public indebted for the amendments and amelioration of the constitution, which have united all parties in the vigorous support of it; and that in a land of freedom, sovereignty, and independence, the great and important affairs of state will be finally subject to reason, justice, and sound policy.
Thus, notwithstanding the many dark appearances, that for a time spread a cloud over the United States; notwithstanding the apprehensions and prejudices against the new constitution, which had pervaded the minds of many; though strong parties had arisen, and acrimonious divisions were fomented, on the great and important question of ratification; yet, by the mode adopted by five states, of proposing amendments at the time of ratifying  it, the fears of the people in general evaporated by degrees. The new constitution was adopted with applause and success, and the promise and the expectations of amendments, flattered all classes with every advantage that could be rationally expected.
The new system of government was ushered into existence under peculiar advantages; and no circumstance tended more rapidly to dissipate every unfavorable impression, than the unanimous choice of a gentleman to the presidential chair, at once meritorious, popular, and beloved, beyond any man. Washington, the favorite of every class of people, was placed at the head of a government of experiment and expectation. Had any character of less popularity and celebrity been designated to this high trust, it might at this period have endangered, if not have proved fatal to the peace of the union. Though some thought the executive vested with too great powers to be entrusted to the hand of any individual, Washington was an individual in whom they had the most unlimited confidence.
After the dissolution of the American army, and the retirement of the commander in chief from the conspicuous station in which he had been placed, the celebrity of his life and manners, associated with the circumstances of a remarkable revolution, in which he always  stood on the fore-ground, naturally turned the eyes of all toward him. The hearts of the whole continent were united, to give him their approbatory voice, as the most suitable character in the United States, to preside at the head of civil government.
The splendid insignia of military command laid aside, the voluntary retirement of general Washington had raised his reputation to the zenith of human glory. Had he persevered in his resolution, never again to engage in the thorny path of public life, his repose might have been forever insured, in the delightful walks of rural occupation. He might, in his retirement on Mount Vernon, have cherished those principles of republicanism which he always professed, as well as the patriotism which he exhibited in the field; and by his disinterested example he might have checked the aspiring ambition of some of his former associates, and handed down his own name to posterity with redoubled lustre:* but man, after long habits of activity, in the meridian of applause, is generally restless in retirement. The difficulty of entirely quitting the luminous scenes on the great stage of public action, is often exemplified in the most exalted characters: thus, even the dignified Washington  could not, amidst the bustle of the world, become a calm, disinterested spectator of the transactions of statesmen and politicians. His most judicious friends were confident he had no fame to acquire, and wished him to remain on the pinnacle he had already reached; but, urged by the strong voice of his native state, and looked up to by every state in the union, the call was strong and impressive, and he again came forward in public life, though it appeared to be in counteraction of his former determinations.
Thus the former commander of the armies of America had been chosen one of the delegates for a general convention of the states, and lent his hand to the formation of a new constitution of civil government. This instrument, as above observed, appeared to the public eye to lie open to many objections: it was viewed as doubtful in its origin, dangerous in its aspect, and for a time very alarming to the feelings of men, who were tremblingly alive on the smallest encroachment of rights and privileges, for which they had sacrificed their fortunes, immolated their friends, and risked their own lives. General Washington himself observed, when he signed the new constitution, that “it was an experiment on which the destiny of the republican model of government was staked.” But the system was adopted with expectations of amendment, and the experiment  proved salutary, and has ultimately redounded as much to the honor and interest of America, as any mode or form of government that could have been devised by the wisdom of man.
It is beyond a doubt, that no man in the union had it so much in his power to assimilate the parties, conciliate the affections, and obtain a general sanction to the new constitution, as a gentleman who commanded their obedience in the field, and had won the veneration, respect, and affections of the people, in the most distant parts of the union. Yet, soon after the organization of the new constitution of government, a struggle began to take place between monarchists and republicans, the consequences of which some future period must disclose. From a variety of new sources; of new objects of magnificence opening before them; of new prospects of wealth anticipated, the spirit of intrigue was matured even among the politicians of yesterday. Some of them were sighing for more liberty, without discretion or judgment to make a proper use of what they already possessed; others were grasping at powers, which neither reason or law, constitutions of their own forming, nor the feelings of nature could justify.
 Thus it appeared, convulsions might ensue, great conflicts be sustained, and great spirits be subdued, before the minds of every class could be perfectly tranquillized, even under the wisest system of human government. But such a people as the Americans cannot suddenly be reduced to a state of slavery; it is a work of time to obliterate old opinions, founded in reason, and fanned by enthusiasm, till they had become a part of the religious creed of a nation. Notwithstanding the apprehensions which have pervaded the minds of many, America will probably long retain a greater share of freedom than can perhaps be found in any other part of the civilized world. This may be more the result of her local situation, than from her superior policy or moderation. From the general equality of fortune which had formerly reigned among them, it may be modestly asserted, that most of the inhabitants of America were too proud for monarchy, yet too poor for nobility, and it is to be feared, too selfish and avaricious for a virtuous republic.
The people of America however were not yet prepared, like the ungrateful Israelites to ask a king, nor were their spirits sufficiently broken, to yield the “best of their olive-grounds to his servants, or to see their sons appointed to run before his chariots.” Yet it was to be regretted, that there soon appeared  a class of men, who, though taken from the bar, the shop, or the more simple occupations of life to command armies, and to negociate with foreign nations, had imbibed ideas of distinguished rank and ostentatious titles, incompatible with republican principles, and totally repugnant to the views of the zealous advocates of American freedom. Indeed many of these had been swept off by the hand of time and death; those who still lived in the shade of retirement, observed with regret, that unless counteracted with firmness, the fiat of an individual might become more respected than the general will of the people.
There yet remained a considerable class of these firm adherents to the principles of the revolution; they were strongly impressed with the necessity of an energetic government, and the weakness of the old confederation. They were also sensible of the many difficulties that must arise in the fiscal arrangements of a people, who had been long without a stable medium of trade, while agriculture, commerce, and every other pursuit, wore a new face, in consequence of a long war. But they had not contemplated the introduction of new projects, which were thought designed to enrich and ennoble some of the officers of the army, to create a splendid government, and to support the dignity of new orders in the state. These were articles that had made no part of their creed.
 The spirit of finance, which, a sensible writer observes, “accumulates woes on the head of a people, by stripping them of the means of subsistence, and what is infinitely more to be regretted, saps the foundations of morality,” had heretofore been only the dream of some overgrown public creditor. A funding system afterwards introduced, attended with all the intricacies of more aged financiers, which never could be understood, and a public debt thereby enhanced, which was probably never intended to be paid, was impregnated in the brain of a young officer* of foreign extraction, an adventurer of a bold genius, active talents, and fortunate combinations, from his birth to the exalted station to which he was listed by the spirit of favoritism in American arrangements. Yet when the system appeared, it was embraced with warmth by a considerable class, as the legitimate child of speculation. But it appeared a monster in the eye of a very large part of the community, who viewed it as the parent of a national debt that would hang on the neck of America to the latest generations.
Hence, a train of restless passions were awakened, that excited to activity, and created a rage for project, speculation, and various artifices, to support a factitious dignity, which finally ruined multitudes of unsuspecting citizens . Hence a spirit of public gambling, speculation in paper, in lands, in every thing else, to a degree unparalleled in any nation. Many other contingencies were felt too severely to require a particular specification.
When general Washington was placed in the presidential chair, he doubtless felt all the solicitude for the discharge of his duty, which such a sacred deposite entrusted to his integrity would naturally awaken. His own reputation was blended with the administration of government on those principles of republicanism, which he had always professed, and which he had supported by his sword; while time, circumstances and interests had changed the opinions of many influential characters.
Thus, the favored and beloved Washington, called from his first retirement to act as chief magistrate in the administration of civil government, whatever measures he sanctioned, were considered as the best, the wisest, and most just, by a great majority of the people. In most instances, it is true, he presided with wisdom, dignity, and moderation, but complete perfection is not to be attributed to man. Undue prejudices and partialities often imperceptibly creep into the best of hearts; and with all the veneration due to so meritorious a character, there were many who thought him too much under the influence of military favorites.
 A very judicious gentleman well acquainted with ancient history, and with modern politics,* observed, during the administration of general Washington, that
the president of the United States held the hearts of all America in his hand, from the moment of his elevation to the command of her armies, to his honorable retirement to private life, and from his dignified retreat to his inauguration at New York. Placed in the executive chair by the united voice of all parties, it was expected the chief magistrate, whom flattery endows with all perfection, and to whom justice attributes many excellent qualities, would have felt himself above the partialities that usually hang about the human heart; and that, divesting himself of the little prejudices that obtrude and frequently sully the greatest characters, he would have been of no party in his appointments, and that real merit, whether federal or anti-federal, would have been equally noticed.
It was not expected, that those gentlemen who wished for a more perfect system of government, or some amendments to the present, would have been cut off from every social and political claim; and that only the officers of the late army, and the devotees to unconditional ratification, would have  been thought worthy of confidence or place under a government that has yet the minds of a considerable part of the people to soothe, and the affections of a judicious and discerning party to conciliate.†
True policy should have dictated the most impartial distribution of office in the new arrangement. It is a new and untried experiment, into which many of the people think they have been precipitated, without time for due consideration. They begin to feel the weight of taxes and imposts to which they have been accustomed. They begin to inquire whether all the late energetic exertions, were designed only to subserve the interests of a certain party, and to furnish salaries, sinecures, and extravagant compensations for the favorites of the army and the sycophants of power, to the exclusion of all who had not adopted the creed of passive obedience.
A cool examiner, who may hereafter retrospect the period, from the establishment of the American constitution to the close of the administration of the first president, will judge, on the detail of facts, whether there was or was not just reason for the above observations.  Future historic writers may scrutinize and survey past transactions with due criticism and candor, when, whatever may have been observed on any other subject, all will allow that no steps, during the civil functions of president Washington, were so unpopular as the Indian war, sanctioned by the president soon after the operation of the measures of the new government, and his ratification of a treaty with Great Britain, negociated by John Jay, Esq. The appointment of this gentleman to a diplomatic character, while chief justice of the supreme court of the union, was thought very objectionable, and very sensible protests were entered in the senate, against the blending of office. It was thought very incompatible with the principles of the constitution, to act in the double capacity of a negociator abroad and the first officer of justice at home.
Notwithstanding these objections, Mr. Jay was commissioned, and repaired to England, ostensibly to require the surrender of the western posts, the retention of which had brought on the war with the savages, as observed above, and to demand satisfaction for the depredations and spoliations that had for several years been made on American commerce, in defiance of the late treaty of peace. The war in which England was then engaged against France had given a pretext for those spoliations. The happiness and tranquillity of the English nation  had not appeared to have been much enhanced, either by the struggle or the termination of the war with their former colonies. After the pacification of the nations at war, and the conclusion of peace between Great Britain and America, such feuds arose in England from various sources and causes of discontent, as discovered that the nation were for a time far from being more tranquillized than the United States, previous to their adoption of the present constitution.
Indeed the English nation had few causes of triumph; their systems of policy had been every where deranged, and their fatal mistakes exemplified in the distresses of their eastern dominions, as well as those in the west. The confusion in the East Indies, and the misconduct of their officers there, called aloud for inquiry and reform: and amidst the complicated difficulties which embarrassed the measures of administration, their king became insane, the royal family were at variance, and the heir apparent had many causes of discontent, besides the alienation of his parents, which had been some time increasing. The parliament and the ministry were intriguing for power, and various parties claimed their right to assume the reins of government during the king’s disability, and the recollections of all were embittered, by a retrospect  of the misfortunes they had experienced during the late war. Their losses had been incalculable, nor could the wisest of their statesmen devise methods for the payment of even the interest of the enormous national debt, and the recovery of the nation to that scale of honour, prosperity and grandeur they had formerly enjoyed.
In this summary view of the state of the British nation for the last ten years, a treaty with England was not a very desirable object in the eyes of many of the most judicious statesmen in America. Perhaps no man was better qualified than Mr. Jay to undertake to negociate a business of so much delicacy and responsibility. He was a gentleman of strict integrity, amiable manners, and complacent disposition; whose talents for negociation had been evinced by his firmness, in conjunction with his colleagues, when they effected a treaty of peace at Paris, in one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three. But while in England, whether from the influence of the court of St. James, or from any predetermined system, with regard to England or France, or from the yielding softness of a mind, naturally urbane and polite, is uncertain. Yet whatever might have been the principal operative cause, it is beyond a doubt, that Mr. Jay fell from the dignified, manly, independent spirit which ought to have marked an American negociator. He was led to succumb  too far to the dictations of lord Grenville; this condescension undoubtedly arose, more from an apprehension that he could not do better, than from any inclination to swerve from the interests of his country. The consequence was, he agreed to a treaty highly advantageous to Great Britain, degrading to the United States, very offensive to France, the ally of America in the days of her tribulation, and who was now herself at war with Great Britain, in conjunction with most of the European potentates, combined* to overthrow the newly established government in France.
This government they had erected, through civil convulsions that distorted every thing from its ancient form and order. Monarchy was overthrown, their king decapitated, hierarchy abolished, and a superstitious priesthood annihilated, amidst the destruction of the lives of thousands of all classes, and a series of such bloody deeds of horror as freeze the soul of humanity on the recollection. These revolutionary scenes in every nation, are generally attended with circumstances shocking to the feelings of compassion; yet undoubtedly all nations have a right to establish such modes and forms of government as a majority of the people shall think most conducive to the general interest. The various causes which contributed to more  distressful scenes of barbarity than are usually exhibited in so short a period, may be left to the discussion of those who have written, or may write the history of the late revolution in France, and the character and conduct of that wonderful people.
It was with apparent reluctance that president Washington signed the treaty negociated by Mr. Jay: he hesitated, and observed, “that it was pregnant with events.” Many gentlemen of the first penetration foresaw and dreaded the consequences of this diplomatic transaction; some scrupled not to declare, that it was not only “pregnant with events,” but “with evils.” But, notwithstanding it wore so disgusting an aspect to more than one half the citizens of the United States, it was ratified by a majority in the senate, signed by the president, and became the supreme law of the land.
This ratification created a division of sentiment, which was artfully wrought up, until a disseveration of opinion appeared throughout the union. In congress, the parties on every great question seemed nearly equally divided; each had their partisans: the spirits of the people were agitated and embittered to an alarming degree, by the extreme point of opposition in which the instrument was viewed. The whole body of the people were designated under traits of distinction which never ought  to exist in the United States; and a struggle took place, the consequences of which some future period must disclose.
It is disgraceful indeed to Americans, who had just broken the shackles of foreign domination, to submit to the unhappy distinction of British or French partisans. But the attachment of many of their old allies, to whom they felt themselves obliged, of many others to the British nation, its modes of government and its commerce, occasioned such a stigma to mark them for a time.
America should indeed forever have maintained a character of her own, that should have set her on high ground, whence she might have looked down from the pinnacle of independence and peace, and only have pitied the squabbles, the confusion, and the miseries of the European world. A quarter of the globe blessed with all the productions of nature, increasing astonishingly in population, improving rapidly in erudition, arts, and all the sciences necessary to the happiness of man; bounded by a vast ocean, by rivers, by mountains, that have been the wonder of ages, ought forever to hold herself independent of any power on earth.
Imagination may indulge a pleasing reverie, and suppose for a moment, that if the government  of the United States had reared a defence around her sea-board, that might have reached to the heavens, by her bold inhibitions against all foreign connexions, or commercial and political intercourse with distant nations, it might have been the best barrier to her peace, liberty, and happiness. But there are no mounds of separation, either natural or artificial, and perhaps had it been practicable there should have been, they might have been penetrated by a thirst for wealth; commerce might have shaken them to the foundation, or ambition might have broken down the battlements.
Instead of guarding round the infant republic of America, by a total detachment from foreign connexions, affection, or influence, we have already seen the inhabitants of the United States, interesting themselves beyond the common feelings of humanity, in the operations of European wars, dissensions, politics, and government.
It is not strange that the astonishing revolution in France should be beheld with very extraordinary emotions. The world had viewed the excision of a king, queen, and the royal family of the house of Bourbon. The existing generation had witnessed the extinction of the claims of a long line of ancestral dignitaries, that had been supported from Charlemagne to Lewis the sixteenth, under all the appendages of despotism that had oppressed its millions,  until they had reached that point of degradation and servility, beyond which the elastic mind of man can bend no farther. This yoke was broken, and the bars burst in sunder by the strong hand of the people, and by the operations of a resentment which discovered more than the imaginary reactions of nature, among the inhabitants of a vast domain. This people had been too long viewed as a nation of slaves, and their struggles for freedom and the equal rights of man ought to have been cherished by Americans, who had just obtained their own independence, by a resistance that had cost them much of the best blood of their citizens.
But the Gallican nation at this period was not viewed with that cordiality by some classes in America, which might have been expected. The government of the United States manifestly discovered a coolness to a nation which had so essentially aided the great American cause, in the darkest of its days; a nation with whom the United States had formed treaties, and become the allies, from interest, necessity and gratitude, and to whom they yet felt obligations that could not be easily cancelled.
The president had indeed published a proclamation of neutrality, and made great professions of friendship to the republic of France. He also sent an envoy to reside there, while the government of France was in the hands of the  directory: but it was thought the appointment was not the most judicious.
A character eccentric from youth to declining age; a man of pleasure, pride, and extravagance, fond of the trappings of monarchy, and implicated by a considerable portion of the citizens of America, as deficient in principle, was not a suitable person for a resident minister in France at so important a crisis. The Gallican nation was in the utmost confusion: the effervescence of opposition to their revolution boiling high in most parts of Europe. Dissensions were heightening in America, and existing treaties in danger of being shaken. These circumstances required a man of stable principles, and respectability of character, rather than a dexterous agent of political mischief, whose abilities and address were well adapted either for private or court intrigue.
The exigencies of affairs, both at home and abroad, required an American negociator of different habits and manners. A supersedure took place. Mr. Munroe, a gentleman of unimpeachable integrity, much knowledge and information, united with distinguished abilities, great strength of mind, and a strong attachment to the republican system, was appointed and sent forward by president Washington.
A full detail of the state and situation of France, on the arrival of Mr. Munroe in a diplomatic  character, the impressions that had been made on the directory, relative to American affairs, the conduct of his predecessor,* and his own negociations, may be seen at large in a general view afterwards given by him of existing prejudices which had arisen from misrepresentation, neglect or design, from the excision of the king of France, until the recal and return of Mr. Munroe to his native country. It was generally believed that America derived no advantage from the former minister’s repairing to England, after his mission was ended in France. He there continued for some time, fomenting by his letters the jealousies which had already arisen between the United States of America and the republic of France.
These jealousies were increased by a variety of causes, and the dissensions of party in America arose to such a height, as to threaten the dissolution of that strong cement, which ought to bind the colonies together forever. These differences of opinion, with the assuming demeanor of some of his officers, who often urged to measures that he neither approved nor wished for, rendered the president of the United States less happy than he was before he sanctioned by his name a treaty, which was disgusting to almost every state in the Union, and which perhaps he never would have signed, but  from the impressive influence of heads of departments, and other favorites about his person. This was a class of men who had been implicated by a considerable portion of the people, as prompting the president of the United States to call out a body of militia, consisting of fifteen thousand men, ostensibly to subdue a trivial insurrection at the westward, which it was asserted by many judicious persons, acquainted with the circumstances, might have been subdued by five hundred only.* They attributed this effort to a wish to try the experiment of the promptitude with which an army might be called forth to subserve the purposes of government, to enhance the dignity of office, and the supreme power of the first magistrate.† There was certainly a class who aimed not so much to promote the honor of the national character, as to establish the basis of a standing army, and other projects approaching to despotic sway, which cannot be supported in America, without the aid of that dangerous engine.
It is dangerous indeed for the ear of the chief magistrate to be open to favorites of such a complexion. Such an one will probably neglect his old associates, and confer places upon  men of not the first abilities in the Union. These are selected only in times of imminent danger; after which their services, integrity and zeal, are too frequently repaid by the ingratitude of the people, which joins the cry of the artful, who have never labored in the vineyard, to send them into oblivion.
The men most opposed to the British treaty, negociated in one thousand seven hundred and ninety-four, and who stated their objections on the most rational grounds, were generally those who had been distinguished for their patriotism, firmness and abilities. They had been very influential in a variety of departments, previous to the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Nor had they ever relaxed in their energies during the course of the war, to effect the emancipation of their country from the tyranny of the crown of Britain, and to obtain the independence of the United States.
These circumstances, with the approach of a period when nature requires rest, rendered the weight of government oppressive to declining age. The man who had long commanded, in a remarkable manner, the affection, the esteem, and the confidence of his country, again abdicated his power, took leave of the cares of state, and retired a second time from all public occupations, to the delightful retreats of private  life, on his highly cultivated farm, on the banks of the Patowmack.
Previous to general Washington’s second return to his rural amusements, he published a farewel address to the inhabitants of the United States, fraught with advice worthy of the statesman, the hero, and the citizen. He exhorted them to union among themselves, economy in public expenditure, sobriety, temperance, and industry in private life. He solemnly warned them against the danger of foreign influence, exhorted them to observe good faith and justice toward all nations, to cultivate peace and harmony with all, to indulge no inveterate antipathies against any, or passionate attachments for particular nations, but to be constantly awake against the insidious wiles of foreign influence, observing, that “this was one of the most baneful foes of republican government.” This was indeed, after they were split into factions; after an exotic taste had been introduced into America, which had a tendency to enhance their public and to accumulate their private debts; and after the poison of foreign influence had crept into their councils, and created a passion to assimilate the politics and the government of the United States nearer to the model of European monarchies than the letter of the constitution, by any fair construction, would admit. It was also, after luxury had spread over every class, while the stimulus to  private industry was in a degree cut off by the capture of their shipping by the belligerent powers, under various pretences of the breach of neutrality.
After this period new contingencies arose, and new discussions were required with regard to foreign relations and connexions, that had no pacific operation, or any tendency to conciliate the minds, or to quiet the perturbed spirits of existing parties.
The operations and the consequences of the civil administration of the first president of the United States, notwithstanding the many excellent qualities of his heart, and the virtues which adorned his life, have since been viewed at such opposite points, that further strictures on his character and conduct shall be left to future historians, after time has mollified the passions and prejudices of the present generation. A new constitution, and an extensive government, in which he acted eight years as chief magistrate, open a new field of observation, for future pens to descant on the merits or demerits of a man, admired abroad, beloved at home, and celebrated through half the globe: this will be done according to the variety of opinions which will ever exist among mankind, when character is surveyed in the cool moments of calm philosophy, which contemplates the nature and passions of man, and the contingent  circumstances, that lift him to the skies, or leave him in the shade of doubtful opinion.
Public opinion is generally grounded on truth; but the enthusiasm to which the greatest part of mankind are liable, often urges the passions to such a degree of extravagance, as to confound the just ratio of praise or reproach: but the services and merits of general Washington, are so deeply engraven on the hearts of his countrymen, that no time or circumstance will or ought ever to efface the lustre of his well earned reputation.
We have already seen, that after the peace, the infant confederated states exhibited scenes and disclosed projects that open too wide a field for discussion, to bring down a regular historical work, farther than the moment which winds up the drama of the military, political, and civil administration of a man, whose name will have a conspicuous place in all future historical records.
History may not furnish an example of a person so generally admired, and possessed of equal opportunities for making himself the despotic master of the liberties of his country, who had the moderation repeatedly to divest himself of all authority, and retire to private life with the sentiments expressed by himself in the close of his farewel address: he there observed
I  anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat, in which I promise myself to realize, without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst of my fellow citizens, the benign influence of good laws under a free government—the ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labor, and dangers.
The commander of the armies of the United States, has been conducted from the field of war, and from the zenith of civil command, to the delicious retreats of peaceful solitude. We now leave him in the shade of retirement, with fervent wishes that he may wind up the career of human life in that tranquillity which becomes the hero and the Christian.
The administration of his immediate successor we shall also leave, after some general observations on the character of a man who long acted in the most conspicuous departments of American affairs. The veracity of an historian requires, that all those who have been distinguished, either by their abilities or their elevated rank, should be exhibited through every period of public life with impartiality and truth. But the heart of the annalist may sometimes be hurt by political deviations which the pen of the historian is obliged to record.
 Mr. Adams was undoubtedly a statesman of penetration and ability; but his prejudices and his passions were sometimes too strong for his sagacity and judgment.
After Great Britain had acknowledged the independence of the dismembered colonies, Mr. Adams was sent to England, with a view of negociating a treaty of commerce; but the government too sore from the loss of the colonies, and the nation too much soured by the breach, nothing was done. He however resided there four or five years; and unfortunately for himself and his country, he became so enamoured with the British constitution, and the government, manners, and laws of the nation, that a partiality for monarchy appeared, which was inconsistent with his former professions of republicanism. Time and circumstances often lead so imperfect a creature as man to view the same thing in a very different point of light.
After Mr. Adams’s return from England, he was implicated by a large portion of his countrymen, as having relinquished the republican system, and forgotten the principles of the American revolution, which he had advocated for near twenty years.
The political errors of men of talents, sometimes spring from their own passions; often  from their prejudices imbibed by local or incidental circumstances; and not unfrequently from the versatile condition of man, which renders it difficult, at one period, to decide on the best system of civil government; or at another, on the most effectual means of promoting the general happiness of mankind. This may lead the candid mind to cast a veil over that ambiguity which confounds opinion, and that counteraction of former principles, which often sets a man in opposition to himself, and prevents that uniformity of conduct which dignifies, and that consistency which adorns the character.
Pride of talents and much ambition, were undoubtedly combined in the character of the president who immediately succeeded general Washington, and the existing circumstances of his country, with his own capacity for business, gave him an opportunity for the full gratification of the most prominent features of his character.
Endowed with a comprehensive genius, well acquainted with the history of men and nations; and having long appeared to be actuated by the principles of integrity, by a zeal for the rights of men, and an honest indignation at the ideas of despotism, it was viewed as a kind of political phenomenon, when discovered that  Mr. Adams’s former opinions were beclouded by a partiality for monarchy. It may however be charitably presumed, that by living long near the splendor of courts and courtiers, with other concurring circumstances, he might become so biassed in his judgment as to think that an hereditary monarchy was the best government for his native country.* From his knowledge of men, he was sensible it was easy to turn the tide of public opinion in favor of any system supported by plausible argumentation. Thus he drew a doleful picture of the confusion and dissolution of all republics, and presented it to the eyes of his countrymen, under the title of a “Defence of their constitutions.” This had a powerful tendency to shake the republican system through the United States. Yet the predilection of Americans in general, in favor of a republican form of government was so strong, that few had the hardiness to counteract it, until several years after the United States had become an independent nation.
On Mr. Adams’s return from England, he undoubtedly discovered a partiality in favor of  monarchic government, and few scrupled to assert for a time, that he exerted his abilities to encourage the operation of those principles in America. But any further strictures are unnecessary in this place on the character of a gentleman, whose official stations, abilities and services, amidst the revolutionary conflict, may probably excite some future historian to investigate the causes of his lapse from former republican principles, and to observe with due propriety on his administration and its consequences while president of the United States.
It is with more pleasure the writer records, that notwithstanding any mistakes or changes in political opinion, or errors in public conduct, Mr. Adams, in private life, supported an unimpeachable character; his habits of morality, decency and religion, rendered him amiable in his family, and beloved by his neighbours. The opinions of a man of such sobriety of manners, political experience, and general knowledge of morals, law and government, will ever have a powerful effect on society, and must naturally influence the people, more especially the rising generation, the young men, who have not had the opportunity of acquainting themselves with the character, police, and jurisprudence of nations, or with the history of their own country, much less with the principles on which the American revolution was grounded.
 There is a propensity in mankind, to enlist themselves under the authority of names, and to adopt the opinions of men of celebrity, more from the fashion of the times, than from the convictions of reason. Thus with the borrowed language of their chieftain, they impose upon themselves, until they think his opinions are their own, and are often wrought up to such a fierce spirit of contention, that they appear ready to defend them in all the cruel modes of the savage, who is seldom actuated by motives of candor and forgiveness of injuries.
Both history and experience have proved, that when party feuds have thus divided a nation, urbanity and benevolence are laid aside; and, influenced by the most malignant and corrupt passions, they lose sight of the sacred obligations of virtue, until there appears little difference in the ferocious spirits of men in the most refined and civilized society, or among the rude and barbarous hordes of the wilderness. Though some symptoms of this degradation of the human character have appeared in America, we hope the cloud is fast dissipating, and that no vicissitudes in human affairs, no intrigues of the interested, nor any mistakes of upright men will ever damp the prospect of the establishment and continuance of a republican system, which appears to be best adapted to the genius of Americans. This form of government has the voice of the majority; the  energies and sacrifices of the sons of Columbia, have been exerted to leave a republican form, defined, modified and digested, as a model to promote the happiness of posterity.
Yet there is still a division of parties, and a variety of sentiment, relative to a subject that has heated the imaginations, and divided the opinions of mankind, from the rise of the Roman republic to the destruction of her splendid empire; and from that day to the present, when the divisions of the literati of every age, have called the attention of genius and ability to speculate and to dissent in their ideas of the best modes and forms of government.
It may be a subject of wonder and inquiry, that though so many ages have elapsed, and so great a part of the world been civilized and improved, that the science of politics is still darkened by the variety of opinions that prevail among mankind. It may be beyond the reach of human genius, to construct a fabric so free as to release from subordination, nor in the present condition of mankind ought it ever to be wished. Authority and obedience are necessary to preserve social order, and to continue the prosperity or even the existence of nations. But it may be observed, that despotism is not always the certain consequence of monarchy, nor freedom the sure result of republican theories.
 It would be presumption in the writer, to entangle herself on a subject of such magnitude and importance, as to decide peremptorily, whether aristocratic, monarchic, or democratic government, is best adapted to the general happiness of the people. This shall be left to bolder pens; she will indulge little farther aberration of her’s, after the expression of her wishes, that amidst the heterogeneous opinions of a theoretic age, America may not trifle away her advantages by her own folly and levity, nor be robbed of any of the essential rights which have cost her so dear, by the intrigues or ambition of any class of men.
The speculative of every age have theorized on a system of perfect republicanism, but the experiment has much oftener failed in practice, among all mankind, than been crowned with success. Those that have come nearest thereto, the free states of Greece, the Achean league, the Amphyctions, and other confederacies, fell under the power of Philip, Alexander, and their successors. The republic of Athens, the most conspicuous among the ancients, corrupted by riches and luxury, was wasted and lost by the intrigues of its own ambitious citizens.
The Roman commonwealth, the proud boast, the pattern, and exemplar of the republics, fell under the despotism of a long line of Caesars, generally the most debauched and brutal race  of emperors that ever disgraced human nature. More modern experiments, Venice, and indeed all the Italian states, who boasted their freedom, were subjected to the tyranny of an oligarchy or aristocracy, frequently more severe and cruel than that of monarchy. In England, the struggles of Hampden and his virtuous associates were lost, and the strong reasonings of the patriots of that day in favor of freedom were obliterated, after the death of Charles, by the artful, the hypocritical, and the arbitrary Cromwell; and the most voluptuous of kings was restored, and re-seated on the throne of Britain.
Thus, from the first of the Stuarts to the last of the line of Brunswick who have yet reigned, their republican opinions and the freedom of the nation have been in the wane, and have finally sunk into an empty name under the tyranny of George the third. Indeed the most enlightened, rational, and independent characters in Great Britain continue still to defend the principles of liberty with their pens, while they have had reason to apprehend its total extinction through the realm.
Innumerable other instances might be adduced of the defeat of republicanism, in spite of the efforts of its most zealous friends: yet this is no proof that this system of government may not be more productive of happiness to mankind than that of monarchy or aristocracy.  The United States of America have now a fair experiment of a republican system to make for themselves; they may perhaps be possessed of more materials that promise success than have ever fallen to the lot of any other nation. From the peculiar circumstances of the emigration of their ancestors, there is little reason to fear that a veil of darkness, tyranny, and barbarity will soon overspread the land to which they fled. These were a set of men very different in principles and manners from any that are to be found in the histories of colonization, where it may be observed, the first planters have been generally either men of enterprise for the acquisition of riches or fame, or convicted villains transported from more civilized societies.
In the outset of the American revolution, the arm of foreign power was opposed by a people uncontaminated by foreign luxury, the intricacies of foreign policies, or the theological jargon of metaphysical sceptics of foreign extract. Philosophy then conveyed honorable ideas of science, of religion, and morals: the character is since degraded by the unprincipled sarcasms of men of letters, who assume the dignity of philosophic thought. Instead of unfolding the sources of knowledge, and inculcating truth, they often confound without convincing, and by their sophistical reasonings leave the superficial  reader, their newly initiated disciple, on the comfortless shores of annihilation.
These observations are not confined to any particular nation or character; the historians of Britain, and the philosophers and poets of France, Germany, and England, are perhaps equally culpable; and it is to be regretted that America has not preserved a national character of her own, free from any symptoms of pernicious deviation from the purest principles on morals, religion, and civil liberty. She has been conducted through a revolution that will be ever memorable, both for its origin, its success, and the new prospects it has opened both at home and abroad. The consequences of this revolution have not been confined to one quarter of the globe, but the dissemination of more liberal principles in government, and more honorable opinions of the rights of man, and the melioration of his condition, have been spread over a considerable part of the world.
But men, prone to abuse the best advantages, sent by the beneficent hand of providence, sometimes sport them away, or confound causes with effects, which lead to the most erroneous conclusions. Thus it has been the recent fashion of courtiers, and of a great part of the clergy, under monarchic governments, to impute  the demoralization and scepticism that prevails, to the spirit of free inquiry, as it regards the rights of civil society. This fashion has been adopted by all anti-republicans in America; but it may be asked, whether the declamation and clamor against the dissemination of republican opinions on civil government, as originating the prevalence of atheistical folly, is founded on the basis of truth?
Examine the history of the ancient republics of Greece, and the splendid commonwealth of Rome; was not the strictest regard paid to the worship of their gods, and a sacred observance of their religious rites enjoined, until the Grecian republics were overthrown by ambitious individuals? It was then that sceptical disputes more generally employed the philosophers; in consequence of which the rulers and the people sunk into an indifference to all religion. The rich city of Athens particularly, was early corrupted by the influx of wealth, the influence of aristocratic nobles, and the annihilation of every principle connected with religion.
Survey the Roman commonwealth before its decline, when it was most worthy of the imitation of republicans. Was not a general regard paid to the worship of their deities, among this celebrated people, and a superstitious attention observed, relative to omens, prodigies and judgments, as denounced and executed by their  gods, until republicanism was extinguished, the commonwealth subverted, and the sceptre of a single sovereign was stretched over that vast empire? It was then that Caligula set up his horse to be worshipped, as a burlesque on religion, and the sycophants of the court encouraged every caprice of their emperor. The people did not become so universally corrupt as to throw off all regard for religion, and all homage to the deities of their ancestors, until the libidinous conduct of their august sovereigns, and the nobles of the court, set the example.
Nor do we read in more sacred history, through all the story of the Israelites, that the fool ever said in his heart, there is no God, until under the dominion of kings.
It may be observed in the character of more modern republics, that religion has been the grand palladium of their institutions. Through all the free states of Italy, democracy and religion have been considered in union; some of them have indeed been darkened by superstition and bigotry, yet not equally hoodwinked under republican governments as are the neighbouring kingdoms of Spain and Portugal, subjected to monarchic despotism.
By no fair deduction can it be asserted, that the scepticism and the late appearance of a total disregard to religious observances in France,  are in consequence of the democratic struggles of the nation. The dereliction of all religious principles among the literati of France, and the abominable opinions of some of their philosophers, cannot be too much detested; but they have sprung from various causes, remote from political freedom, and too complicated to trace their origin, in a page of cursory observations.
The French have long been a highly civilized, refined, luxurious nation, divided into two classes, the learned and the infidel, the ignorant and superstitious, both equally pursuing present pleasure, with little regard to moral principle, the laws of reason, of God, or of nature, any further than prompted by the gratifications of the moment. The first were patronised by the court; the rich and the noble had been generally infidel for more than a century before the revolution. The last were poor, depressed and degraded by monarchic and prelatic power, until their indigence and misery produced universal murmur, and revolution burst on a nation, too ignorant to investigate the sources of their own wretchedness, and too volatile and impatient to wait the operation of measures adapted for relief by men of more information and ability than themselves.
Thus from the ignorance and imbecility of a people degraded by oppression, and long the dupes of priestly as well as monarchic tyranny, they  naturally followed the lead of their superiors. These had long been the infidel disciples of Voltaire, D’Alembert, and Diderot; the atheistical opinions of these men, and others of their character, had been cherished only by courtiers and academicians, until near the middle of the eighteenth century, when their numerous adherents, who had concealed their pernicious opinions under the veil of modesty, threw off the mask, came out openly, and set religion at defiance. But the shackles of superstition were not yet broken, nor were any remarkable struggles made in favor of civil liberty, until the flame was caught by their officers and soldiers, and resistance to tyranny taught them, while in union with the sober and pious Americans. They were animated by the principles of freedom while they lent their arm in aid of the energies of a people, whose character had never been impeached as favorers of atheistical opinions, and who were only exerting their abilities, both in the cabinet and the field, in supporting the civil and social rights of men.
On the return of this veteran band of officers and soldiers to their own nation, they found as they had left, a voluptuous court, a licentious and extravagant nobility, a corrupted priesthood, and an ignorant multitude spread over the face of one of the finest countries on earth. Yet the murmurs against tyranny and oppression  had become so general, that some ineffectual efforts for relief had been made without any digested system of means that might produce it. Previous to this period, some of their parliaments had discovered spirit and energy to resist the despotic mandates of the crown: but the arm of royalty was yet too potent to receive any check, while the whole nation was held in bondage by the strong hand of their grand monarch.
These combined circumstances brought forward an assembly of notables, and a national convention, neither of which were capable of quieting the universal discontent and disaffection to royalty that prevailed. Hence the destruction of the Bastile; the imprisonment and decapitation of their king and queen; the extermination of their nobility and clergy; the assassination of many of their first literary characters; and the indiscriminate murder of ladies of the fairest fame and virtue, and women of little consideration; of characters of the highest celebrity, of nobles, magistrates, and men without name or distinction.
These sudden eruptions of the passions of the multitude, spread, like the lava of a volcano, throughout all France, nor could men of correct judgment, who aimed only at the reform of abuses, and a renovation in all the departments, check the fury of the torrent. This confusion  and terror within, and an army without, sent on by the combined despots of Europe, with the professed design of subjecting the nation, and re-establishing the monarchy of France, gave an opportunity to ambitious, unprincipled, corrupt, and ignorant men, to come forward, under pretence of supporting the rights and liberties of mankind, without any views but those of disorder and disorganization. Thus in the midst of tumult and confusion, was indulged every vicious propensity, peculation, revenge, and all the black passions of the soul. The guillotine was glutted with the blood of innocent victims, while the rapidity of execution, and their jealousy of each other, involved the most guilty, and cut down many of the blackest miscreants, as well as the most virtuous characters in the nation.
But from the rise and progress of this period of horror, this outrage of humanity, it is evident that it originated more from former monarchic and priestly oppression, than from the operation of infidel opinions, united with republican efforts. In consequence of this state of things, though there were very many characters of the best intentions, principles and abilities, animated and active for the promotion of civil liberty in France, they had to regret with all the humane, benevolent, and pious, that while engaged to eradicate the superstitions of their country, and the arbitrary strides of their  civil rulers, law was annihilated and even the government of Heaven renounced. Thus, all religious opinions were set afloat, the passions let loose, and all distinctions levelled. Decency, humanity, and every thing else respected in civil society, disappeared, until the outrages of cruelty and licentiousness resembled the regions of pandemonium. Thus was republicanism disgraced by the demoralization of the people, and a cloud of infidelity darkened the hemisphere of France; but there is nothing to countenance the opinion, that scepticism was the origin or the result of the struggles of the Gallican nation in favor of civil liberty. *
This people may have had their day of licentious enjoyment, of literary fame, of taste, elegance and splendor; they have abused his gifts and denied the God of nature, who, according to the usual course of his government among men, may devote them to that ruin which is the natural consequence of luxury and impiety. Yet the God of providence, when national punishment has been sufficiently inflicted, may bring them back again to a due sense of religion and order; while the seeds of liberty, which they have disseminated far and wide, may ripen in every soil, and in full maturity  extend the branches of general freedom, through Europe, and perhaps throughout the world. After all, we are inadequate to any calculation on future events; the ways of heaven are hidden in the depths of time, and a small circumstance frequently gives a new turn to the most probable contingencies that seem to measure the fate of men or of empires.*
We will now leave this extraordinary nation, which has furnished materials for history of the most interesting nature, as it regards the character of man; their civil, political, and religious institutions, and the moral and social ties that connect society. From them we will look over to the island of Britain, and survey the gradations of principles, manners, and science, there. We shall find that lord Herbert, one of the first and most notorious infidels in England, sprung  up under kingly government; and none will deny that scepticism has prevailed, and has been gathering strength both in France and England, under monarchy, even before the correspondencies of British infidels with St. Evremond, and other sceptical Frenchmen. Hobbes, Hume, and Bolingbroke, were subjects of a king of England; and while their disciples have been increasing, and their deistical opinions have poisoned the minds of youth of genius, and shaken the faith of some even in clerical professions, yet no democratic opinions have been generally spread over the nation.
In the zenith of British monarchy, and the golden age of nobility, while republicanism has been quite out of fashion, has not the cause of Christianity suffered by the fascinating pen of a Gibbon, whose epithets charm while they shock, and whose learned eloquence leads the believer to pause and tremble for the multitudes that may be allured by the sophistry of his arguments, his satirical wit, the elegance of his diction, and the beautiful antithesis of many of his periods.
The elegance of his style confers an “alarming popularity on the licentiousness of his opinions.” The rise and fall of the Roman republic will probably be read by many who have not the inclination or the opportunity to study the writings of Locke, Boyle, Butler,  Newton, Clarke, and many others, who have by their example and by the pen supported and defended the Christian system on principles of reason and argument, that will forever adorn the character of Englishmen. A writer of ingenuity has observed, that, “there are probably more sceptics in England than in any other country”* ; yet we do not infer that the examples of infidelity that disgrace the world, by blasting the principles of truth, though nurtured under princely patronage, are in consequence of the cherishing influence of monarchy. Nor is it more just to suppose that the writings of French philosophists, or the jejune trumpery that has for years exuded from the brain of other theorists of that nation, is the result of speculative opinions, with regard to civil liberty.
It is neither a preference to republican systems, nor an attachment to monarchic or aristocratic forms of government that disseminates the wild opinions of infidelity. It is the licentious manners of courts of every description, the unbridled luxury of wealth, and the worst passions of men let loose on the multitude by the example of their superiors. Bent on gratification, at the expense of every moral tie, they have broken down the barriers of religion, and the spirit of infidelity is nourished at the  fount; thence the poisonous streams run through every grade that constitutes the mass of nations.
It may be further observed, that there is a variety of additional causes which have led to a disposition among some part of mankind, to reject the obligations of religion, and even to deny their God. This propensity in some may easily be elucidated, without casting any part of the odium on the spirit of free inquiry relative to civil and political liberty, which had been widely disseminated, and had produced two such remarkable revolutions as those of America and France. It may be imputed to the love of novelty, the pride of opinion, and an extravagant propensity to speculate and theorize on subjects beyond the comprehension of mortals, united with a desire of being released from the restraints on their appetites and passions; restraints dictated both by reason and revelation; and which, under the influence of sober reflection, forbid the indulgence of all gratifications that are injurious to man. Further elucidations, or more abstruse causes, which contribute to lead the vain inquirer, who steps over the line prescribed by the Author of nature, to deviations from, and forgetfulness of its Creator, and to involve him in a labyrinth of darkness, from which his weak reasonings can never disentangle him, may be left to those who delight in metaphysical disquisitions.
 The world might reasonably have expected, from the circumstances connected with the first settlement of the American colonies, which was in consequence of their attachment to the religion of their fathers, united with a spirit of independence relative to civil government, that there would have been no observable dereliction of those honorable principles, for many ages to come. From the sobriety of their manners, their simple habits, their attention to the education and moral conduct of their children, they had the highest reason to hope, that it might have been long, very long, before the faith of their religion was shaken, or their principles corrupted, either by the manners, opinions, or habits of foreigners, bred in the courts of despotism, or the schools of licentiousness.
This hope shall not yet be relinquished. There has indeed been some relaxation of manners, and the appearance of a change in public opinion not contemplated when revolutionary scenes first shook the western world. But it must be acknowledged, that the religious and moral character of Americans yet stands on a higher grade of excellence and purity, than that of most other nations. It has been observed, that “a violation of manners has destroyed more states than the infraction of laws.”* It is necessary for every American,  with becoming energy to endeavour to stop the dissemination of principles evidently destructive of the cause for which they have bled. It must be the combined virtue of the rulers and of the people to do this, and to rescue and save their civil and religious rights from the outstretched arm of tyranny, which may appear under any mode or form of government.
Let not the frivolity of the domestic taste of the children of Columbia, nor the examples of strangers of high or low degree, that may intermix among them, or the imposing attitude of distant nations, or the machinations of the bloody tyrants of Europe, who have united themselves, and to the utmost are exerting their strength to extirpate the very name of republicanism, rob them of their character, their morals, their religion, or their liberty.
It is true the revolution in France had not ultimately tended to strengthen the principles of republicanism in America. The confusions introduced into that unhappy nation, by their resistance to despotism, and the consequent horrors that spread dismay over every portion of their territory, have startled some in the United States, who do not distinguish between principles and events, and shaken the firmness of others, who have fallen off from their primary object, and by degrees returned back to their former adherence to monarchy. Thus,  through real or pretended fears of similar results, from the freedom of opinion disseminated through the United States, dissensions have originated relative to subjects not known in the constitution of the American republic. This admits no titles of honor or nobility, those powerful springs of human action; and from the rage of acquisition which has spread far and wide, it may be apprehended that the possession of wealth will in a short time be the only distinction in this young country. By this it may be feared that the spirit of avarice will be rendered justifiable in the opinion of some, as the single road to superiority.
The desire of distinction is inherent in the bosom of man, notwithstanding the equality of nature in which he was created. Few are the numbers of elevated souls, stimulated to act on the single motive of disinterested virtue; and among the less powerful incentives to great and noble actions, the pursuit of honour, rank, and titles, is undeniably as laudable as that of riches. The last too generally narrows the mind, debases it by meanness, and renders it disgracefully selfish, both in the manner of hoarding and squandering superfluous wealth; but the ambitious, stimulated by a thirst for rank, consider the want of generosity a stain on the dignity of high station.
 It may be asked, are not those states the most likely to produce the greatest number of wise and heroic spirits, where some mark of elevation, instead of pecuniary compensation, is affixed to the name and character of such, as have outstripped their contemporaries in the field of glory or integrity? A Roman knight ennobled for his patriotism or his valour, though his patrimonial inheritance was insufficient for a modern flower-garden, was beheld with more veneration than the most wealthy and voluptuous citizen. But we shall not here decide how far honorary rewards are consistent with the principles of republicanism. Indeed some have asserted, that “nobility is the Corinthian capital of polished states;” but an ingenious writer has observed, that
a titled nobility is the most undisputed progeny of feudal barbarism; that the august fabric of society is deformed and encumbered by such Gothic ornaments. The massy doric that sustains it is labor, and the splendid variety of arts and talents that solace and embellish life, form the decorations of its Corinthian and Ionic capitals.*
It is to be regretted that Americans are so much divided on this point as well as on many other questions; we hope the spirit of division will never be wrought up to such a height as to terminate in a disseveration of the states, or any  internal hostilities. Any civil convulsions would shake the fabric of government, and perhaps entirely subvert the present excellent constitution; a strict adherence to which, it may be affirmed, is the best security of the rights and liberties of a country that has bled at every vein, to purchase and transmit them to posterity. The sword now resheathed, the army dismissed, a wise, energetic government established and organized, it is to be hoped many generations will pass away in the lapse of time, before America again becomes a theatre of war.
Indeed the United States of America embrace too large a portion of the globe, to expect their isolated situation will forever secure them from the encroachments of foreign nations, and the attempts of potent Europeans to interrupt their peace. But if the education of youth, both public and private, is attended to, their industrious and economical habits maintained, their moral character and that assemblage of virtues supported, which is necessary for the happiness of individuals and of nations, there is not much danger that they will for a long time be subjugated by the arms of foreigners, or that their republican system will be subverted by the arts of domestic enemies. Yet, probably some distant day will exhibit the extensive continent of America, a portrait analogous to the other quarters of  the globe, which have been laid waste by ambition, until misery has spread her sable veil over the inhabitants. But this will not be done, until ignorance, servility and vice, have led them to renounce their ideas of freedom, and reduced them to that grade of baseness which renders them unfit for the enjoyment of that rational liberty which is the natural inheritance of man. The expense of blood and treasure, lavished for the purchase of freedom, should teach Americans to estimate its real worth, nor ever suffer it to be depreciated by the vices of the human mind, which are seldom single. The sons of America ought ever to bear in grateful remembrance the worthy band of patriots, who first supported an opposition to the tyrannic measures of Great Britain. Though some of them have long since been consigned to the tomb, a tribute of gratitude is ever due to their memory, while the advantages of freedom and independence are felt by their latest posterity.
The military character of the country has rung with deserved applause; many of the heroes who have been sacrificed in the field, are justly recollected with a sigh; but the laborious statesmen who with ability and precision defined the rights of men, and supported the freedom of their country; without whose efforts America never would have had an army, are many of them neglected or forgotten.  Private virtue may be neglected; public benefits disregarded, as they affect the individual, while at the same time society feels their cherishing beams, which like the silent rills that water the great garden of nature, pour forth their bounties, unasked, on the whole family of ungrateful man.
It has been justly said, that
there is seldom any medium between gratitude for benefits, and hatred to the authors of them; a little mind is hurt by the remembrance of obligations, begins by forgetting; and not uncommonly ends by persecution.
that circle of beings, which dependence gathers around us, is almost ever unfriendly; they secretly wish the terms of this connexion more equal. Increasing the obligations which are laid upon such minds, only increases their burden; they feel themselves unable to defray the immensity of their debt.
Thus the names of many of the men, who laid the foundations of American independence, and defended the principles of the revolution, are by the efforts of the artful, depreciated, if not vilified. The ancient Persians considered ingratitude as the source of all enmities among men. They considered it “an indication of the vilest spirit, nor believed it possible for an ungrateful man to love the gods, or even his parents, friends, or country.”
 The partiality to military honor, has a tendency to nourish a disposition for arbitrary power; and wherever there is a tyrannic disposition, servility is its concomitant: hence, pride of title and distinction, and an avarice for wealth to support it. Where these passions predominate, ingratitude is usually added; this makes a tripodium to lift the ambitious to the summit of their nefarious designs. Under an established despotism mankind are generally more prone to bend than to resist; losing their ideas of the value of independence, the timid, the doubtful, and the indiscreet, for the most part, determine in favor of whatever wears the appearance of established authority. This should be a lasting admonition, which should forever prevent the vesting any individual or body of men with too much power.
The people of the United States are bound together in sacred compact and a union of interests which ought never to be separated. But the confederation is recent, and their experience immatured; they are however generally sensible, that from the dictatorship of Sylla to the overthrow of Caesar, and from the ruin of the Roman tyrant to the death of the artful Cromwell, deception as well as violence have operated to the subversion of the freedom of the people. They are sensible, that by a little well-concerted intrigue, an artificial consideration may be obtained, far exceeding the degree  of real merit on which it is founded. They are sensible that it is not difficult for men of moderate abilities, and a little personal address, to retain their popularity to the end of their lives, without any distinguished traits of genius, wisdom, or virtue. They are sensible, that the characters of nations have been disgraced by their weak partialities, until their freedom has been irretrievably lost in that vortex of folly, which throws a lethargy over the mind, till awakened by the fatal consequences which result from arbitrary power, disguised by specious pretexts, amidst a general relaxation of manners.
An ingenious writer has observed, that
the juvenile vigor of reason and freedom in the new world, where the human mind was unencumbered with that vast mass of usage and prejudice, which so many ages of ignorance had accumulated to load and deform society in Europe,
brought forward those declarations of the rights of men, which hastened the emancipation of their own country, and diffused light to others.
It is equally just to observe, that in the eighteenth century, the enlightened writers of Europe had so clearly delineated the natural rights of men, and the equal freedom of the human race, before they by compact had yielded a part for the preservation and safety of the  whole, as to have a powerful effect on public opinion. This had manifestly, in some degree, broken the fetters that had long enthralled and dissipated the darkness that shrouded the mind, under the influence of superstitious bigotry, and their ideas of the divine right of kings. The Colossus of tyranny was shaken, and the social order meliorated by learned sages, who evinced that government, as elegantly expressed by one,* is not
a scientific subtilty, but a practical expedient for general good; all recourse to elaborate abstractions is frivolous and futile, and the grand question in government is not its source, but its tendency; not a question of right, but a consideration of expediency.
All the governments in the world,
the same writer adds,
have been fortuitously formed; they are the produce of chance, not the work of art. They have been altered, impaired, improved, and destroyed by accidental circumstances, beyond the foresight or control of wisdom. Their parts thrown up against present emergencies, formed no systematic whole. It was certainly not to have been presumed, that these fortuitous govenments should have surpassed the works of intellect, and precluded all nearer approaches to perfection.
 Perfection in government is not to be expected from so imperfect a creature as man; experience has taught, that he falls infinitely short of this point; that however industrious in pursuit of improvements in human wisdom, or however bold the inquiry that employs the human intellect, either on government, ethics, or any other science, man yet discovers a deficiency of capacity to satisfy his researches, or to announce that he has already found an unerring standard on which he may rest.
Perhaps genius has never devised a system more congenial to their wishes, or better adapted to the condition of man, than the American constitution. At the same time, it is left open to amendments whenever its imperfections are discovered by the wisdom of future generations, or when new contingencies may arise either at home or abroad, to make alterations necessary. On the principles of republicanism was this constitution founded; on these it must stand. Many corrections and amendments have already taken place, and it is at the present period* as wise, as efficient, as respectable, as free, and we hope as permanent, as any constitution existing on earth. It is a system admired by statesmen abroad, envied by distant nations, and revered  by Americans. They pride themselves on this palladium of safety, fabricated at a dangerous crisis, and established on the broad basis of the elective voice of the people. It now depends on their own virtue, to continue the United States of America an example of the respectability and dignity of this mode of government.
Notwithstanding the advantages that may be derived, and the safety that may be felt, under so happy a constitution, yet it is necessary to guard at every point, against the intrigues of artful or ambitious men, who may subvert the system which the inhabitants of the United States judged to be most conducive to the general happiness of society.
It is now indeed at the option of the sons of America to delegate such men for the administration of government, as will consider the designation of this trust as a sacred deposite, which binds them to the indispensable duty of aiming solely at the promotion of the civil, the economical, the religious, and political welfare of the whole community. They therefore cannot be too scrutinous on the character of their executive officers. No man should be lifted by the voice of his country to presidential rank, who may probably forget the republican designation, and sigh to wield a sceptre, instead of guarding sacredly the charter from the people. It is to be hoped, that no American citizen will  hereafter pant for nobility. The senators of the United States should be wise, her representatives uncorrupt, the judiciary firm, equitable, and humane, and the bench of justice ever adorned by men uninfluenced by little passions, and adhering only to the principles of law and equity! The people should be economical and sober; and the clergy should keep within their own line, which directs them to enforce the moral obligations of society, and to inculcate the doctrines of peace, brotherly kindness, and the forgiveness of injuries, taught by the example of their Divine Master, nor should they leave the appropriate duties of their profession, to descant on political principles or characters!*  Such a happy combination of propriety and dignity in each department might prevent all apprehensions of danger to religion from the sceptical absurdities of unprincipled men; neither the foolish, the learned, or licentious, would be able to sap the foundations of the kingdom of Christ. In the present state of society and general information, there is no reason to fear the overthrow of a system, by the efforts of modern infidels, which could not be shaken by the learned unbelievers of Greece, the persecutions of the Caesars, nor the power of the Roman empire.
All who have just ideas of the equal claims of mankind to share the benefits of a free and benign government, and virtue sufficient to aid its promotion, will fervently pray, that the narrow passions of the selfish, or the ambitious views of more elevated minds, may never render fruitless the labors of the wise and vigilant patriot, who sacrificed much to this noble purpose, nor defeat the severe efforts of the soldier, who fell in the field, or stain the laurels of such as have survived the conflict.
However literature has been improved, and knowledge diffused by the pen of genius, and the industry of liberal minded and erudite instructors, there has been a conspiracy formed against the dissemination of republican opinions, by interested and aspiring characters, eager for  the establishment of hereditary distinctions and noble orders. This is a conspiracy formidable for the wealth and talents of its supporters in Europe, and not less so from the same description of men in America. This should stand as a beacon before the eyes of an infant republic, recently established by the suffrages of the inhabitants of the United States, who already have had to fear the progress of opinion, which produced the American revolution, might change its complexion, and there might be a tyranny to depose, more formidable than kings.
Public opinion, when grounded on false principles, and dictated by the breath of ambitious individuals, sometimes creates a tyranny, felt by the minority more severely, than that usually inflicted by the hand of the sceptred monarch. From this tyranny of opinion often starts a political enthusiasm, which, as expressed by the cardinal de Retz, “would at one period exalt to a throne, and at another, conduct the enthusiast to a gallows.” This tyranny of opinion is spread or extinguished by factitious circumstances, sometimes combining to exalt the mind to the most sublime ideas of human freedom; at others, beclouding it with prejudices which sink it into habitual servility, when reason languishes until overwhelmed by a torpor become too general to awaken, without producing convulsions more to be dreaded than submission,  and too painful for the contemplation of benevolent minds.
Great revolutions ever produce excesses and miseries at which humanity revolts. In America indeed, it must be acknowledged, that when the late convulsions are viewed with a retrospective eye, the scenes of barbarity were not so universal as have been usual in other countries that have been at once shaken by foreign and domestic war. Few histories have recorded examples of equal moderation and less violation of the feelings of humanity, where general revolt and revolution had pervaded such an extensive territory. The enthusiasm of opinion previous to the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, bore down opposition like a torrent, and enkindled the flame which emancipated the United States. Yet, it was not stimulated by a fierce spirit of revenge, which, in similar circumstances, too frequently urges to cruelties which can never be licensed by the principles of justice or freedom, and must ever be abhorrent to humanity and benevolence.
The United States may congratulate themselves on the success of a revolution which has done honor to the human character, by exhibiting a mildness of spirit amidst the ferocity of war, that prevented the shocking scenes of cruelty, butchery, and slaughter, which have too often stained the actions of men, when their  original intentions were the result of pure motives and justifiable resistance. They have been hailed by distant nations in terms of respect and applause for the glorious and successful stand made by them in favor of the liberties of mankind. They have now to maintain their well-earned fame, by a strict adherence to the principles of the revolution, and the practice of every public, social and domestic virtue.
The enthusiastic zeal for freedom which had generally animated all classes throughout the United States, was retained, with few exceptions, to the conclusion of the war, without any considerable appearance of relaxation in any part of the union, until the sword was resheathed, and the conflict terminated by a general peace. After this indeed, though the spirit for freedom was not worn down, a party arose, actuated by different principles; new designs were discovered, which spread suspicions among the people, that the object of their exertions was endangered, from circumstances they had never calculated as probable to take place in their country, until some ages had elapsed. But notwithstanding the variety of exigencies, and the new opportunities which offered to interested individuals, for the aggrandizement of family, and the accumulation of wealth, no visible dereliction appeared, nor any diminution of that general partiality in favor of republicanism which had taken deep root in the minds  of the inhabitants of the United States. These principles did not apparently languish, until some time after the adoption of the new constitution; exertions were then made to damp their ardor by holding up systems of government asserted by some to be better adapted to their happiness, and absolutely necessary for the strength and glory of the American states. The illusion was however discovered, and a constitutional ardency for general freedom revived among the people. The feelings of native freedom among the sons of America, and their own good sense taught them, that they did not need the appendages of royalty and the baneful curse of a standing army to support it. They were convinced, that rational liberty might be maintained, their favorite system of republicanism might be revived, established, and supported, and the prosperity of their country heightened, at a less gorgeous expense than a resort to the usages of monarchic states, and the introduction of hereditary crowns and the proud claims of noble ancestry, which usually involve the mass of the people in poverty, corruption, degradation, and servility.
Under the benediction of Divine Providence America may yet long be protected from sanguine projects, and indigested measures, that have produced the evils felt or depictured among less fortunate nations, who have not laid the foundations of their governments on the firm  basis of public virtue, of general freedom, and that degree of liberty most productive of the happiness of mankind in his social state. But from the accumulated blessings which are showered down on the United States, there is reason to indulge the benign hope, that America may long stand a favored nation, and be preserved from the horrors of war, instigated either by foreign combinations or domestic intrigue, which are equally to be deprecated.
Any attempt, either by secret fraud, or open violence, to shake the union, to subvert the constitution, or undermine the just principles, which wrought out the American revolution, cannot be too severely censured. It is true, there has been some agitation of spirits between existing parties; but doubtless the prudence of the inhabitants of the United States will suffer this to evaporate, as the cloud of the morning, and will guard against every point that might have the smallest tendency to break the union. If peace and unanimity are cherished, and the equalization of liberty, and the equity and energy of law, maintained by harmony and justice, the present representative government may stand for ages a luminous monument of republican wisdom, virtue, and integrity. The principles of the revolution ought ever to be the pole-star of the statesman, respected by the rising generation; and the advantages  bestowed by Providence should never be lost, by negligence, indiscretion, or guilt.
The people may again be reminded, that the elective franchise is in their own hands; that it ought not to be abused, either for personal gratifications, or the indulgence of partisan acrimony. This advantage should be improved, not only for the benefit of existing society, but with an eye to that fidelity which is due to posterity. This can only be done by electing such men to guide the national counsels, whose conscious probity enables them to stand like a Colossus, on the broad basis of independence, and by correct and equitable arrangements, endeavor to lighten the burdens of the people, strengthen their unanimity at home, command justice abroad, and cultivate peace with all nations, until an example may be left on record of the practicability of meliorating the condition of mankind.
The internal strength of America is respectable, and her borders are fenced by the barriers of nature. May the wisdom, vigour, and ability of her native sons, teach her to surmount every difficulty that may arise at home or abroad, without ever calling in the aid of foreign relations! She wants not the interference of any other nation, to give a model to her government, or secretly influence the administration by bribes, flatteries, or threats. The enterprising  spirit of the people seems adapted to improve their advantages, and to rival in grandeur and fame those parts of creation which for ages have been meliorating and refining, until the period of decay seems to have arrived, that threatens the fall of some of the proudest nations. Humanity recoils at a view of the wretched state of vassalage, in which a great part of mankind are involved. Yet, America may sit tranquil, and only extend her compassion to the European world, which exhibits the shambles of despotism, where the purple of kings is stained by the blood of their subjects, butchered by thousands to glut the ambition of a weak individual, who frequently expires himself before the cup of his intoxication is full. The vesture of royalty is however still displayed, and the weapons of war spread death over three fourths of the globe, without satiating the thirst that drinks up rivers of human gore, when the proud victor wipes the stained lip and covers the guilty visage with a smile at the incalculable carnage of his own species, by his mandates and his myrmidons.
It will be the wisdom, and probably the future effort of the American government, forever to maintain with unshaken magnanimity, the present neutral position of the United  States.* The hand of nature has displayed its magnificence in this quarter of the globe, in the astonishing rivers, lakes, and mountains, replete with the richest minerals and the most useful materials for manufactures. At the same time, the indigenous produce of its fertile lands yields medicine, food, and clothing, and every thing needful for man in his present condition. America may with propriety be styled a land of promise; a happy climate, though remarkably variegated; fruitful and populous, independent and free, both necessity and pleasure invite the hand of the industrious to cherish and cultivate the prolific soil, which is ready to yield all that nature requires to satisfy the reasonable wishes of man, as well as to contribute to the wealth, pleasure, and luxury of the inhabitants. It is a portion of the globe that appears as a fair and fertile vineyard, which requires only the industrious care of the laborers to render it for a long time productive of the finest clusters in the full harvest of prosperity and freedom, instead of yielding thorns, thistles, and sour grapes, which must be the certain fruits of animosity, disunion, venality, or vice.
Though in her infantile state, the young republic of America exhibits the happiest prospects. Her extensive population, commerce,  and wealth, the progress of agriculture, arts, sciences, and manufactures, have increased with a rapidity beyond example. Colleges and academies have been reared, multiplied, and endowed with the best advantages for public instruction, on the broad scale of liberality and truth. The effects of industry and enterprise appear in the numerous canals, turnpikes, elegant buildings, and well constructed bridges, over lengths and depths of water that open, and render the communication easy and agreeable, throughout a country almost without bounds. In short, arts and agriculture are pursued with avidity, civilization spreads, and science in full research is investigating all the sources of human knowledge.
Indeed the whole country wears a face of improvement, from the extreme point of the northern and western woods, through all the southern states, and to the vast Atlantic ocean, the eastern boundary of the United States. The wisdom and justice of the American governments, and the virtue of the inhabitants, may, if they are not deficient in the improvement of their own advantages, render the United States of America an enviable example to all the world, of peace, liberty, righteousness, and truth. The western wilds, which for ages have been little known, may arrive to that stage of improvement and perfection, beyond which the limits of human genius cannot reach,  and this last civilized quarter of the globe may exhibit those striking traits of grandeur and magnificence, which the Divine Economist may have reserved to crown the closing scene, when the angel of his presence will stand upon the sea and upon the earth, lift up his hand to heaven, and swear by Him that liveth for ever and ever, that there shall be time no longer.
END OF VOL. III.
[*]See sir Henry Clinton’s letter to lord Cornwallis, dated Sept. 30, 1781. (Stevens, Campaign, II: 172-173.]
[†]This was prince Henry, the duke of Clarence.
[*]Lord Cornwallis to general Clinton. [Cornwallis to Clinton, October 20, 1781, Stevens, Campaign, II: 205-216. Cornwallis wrote this letter after his capitulation at Yorktown and announced the surrender in the letter. The passage concerning the weather appears at p. 212.]
[*]Appendix, Note No. I.
[†]Several reconnoitering parties on both sides met and skirmished during the siege. In one of these, colonel Scammel, a brave American officer, who was respected and beloved for the excellence of his private character, was captured by some British partisans. He surrendered, and delivered his sword, the usual signal of submission, after which he was mortally wounded by one of the British. He expired after languishing a day or two.
[*]See Parliamentary Debates. [Henry Laurens’s petition to the House of Commons from the Tower of London appears in Cobbett, XXII: 877-878 (December 21, 1781), and in Annual Register (1781), “State Papers,” pp. 322-323. Also see Annual Register (1781), “History of Europe,” pp. 142-143.]
[*]Appendix, Note No. II.
[*]The American standard at this time was ornamented with only thirteen stars.
[*]British Annual Register for one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one. [See Annual Register (1781), “History of Europe,” pp. 119-136; “Humble Address of the Lord-mayor, Aldermen, and Livery of the City of London" to the King, “State Papers,” pp. 320-322.]
[*]The Americans did not soon forget the merits or the services of the count de Grasse. Their gratitude and respect for his memory was exhibited by congress, who generously pensioned four of his hapless daughters, who arrived in the Massachusetts in extreme poverty, after the ruin of their family in the general wreck of nobility, and the destruction of monarchy in France.
[†]Parliamentary Debates. [See Cobbett, XX: 780–803 (May 1779); Burgoyne, Expedition.]
[*]General Greene’s letters at this period to general Washington and others. [It is impossible to know precisely which letter of Greene’s Warren had in mind. Greene was camped at the High Hills of Santee from September 14 to November 11, 1781. Between July and November, 165 letters appeared over his signature dated at that place. Greene’s letter to George Washington, October 25, 1781, “Headquarters, High Hills of Santee,” Sparks, Correspondence, III: 429-431, is representative of many discussing the deplorable condition of the troops.]
[*]Smith’s Wealth of Nations. [Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (2 vols.; London, 1776), Book IV, Chapter VII, Part II. I have used the authoritative Oxford University Press (1976) edition: LibertyClassics (Indianapolis, 1981), II: 590.]
[*]Life of Lord Chatham. [William Pitt, first Earl of Chatham, 1708-1778. Several biographies of Chatham had appeared before Warren’s History. It is impossible to know which one she had in mind.]
[*]See the earl of Abingdon’s reply to the applications. [Source not identified. Willoughby Bertie, fourth Earl of Abingdon, was an outspoken member of the House of Lords from 1775 to his death in 1799. A Rockingham Whig, he was a strong supporter of popular rights and a staunch opponent of war with America.]
[*]The history of Geneva has very properly been recommended to the study of every American citizen, by a political writer. [Source not identified.]
[*]See Mr. Fox’s speech in the house of commons; also, several speeches in the house of lords at this period. [See Cobbett, XXII: 878 ff. Also see, Annual Register (1782), “History of Europe,” pp. 151-153. Fox moved for an inquiry into the causes of the navy’s want of success, January 24, 1782.]
[*]Dr. Williams’s History of Vermont. (Samuel Williams, The Natural and Civil History of Vermont (Walpole, N.H., 1794), pp. 369, 370, 373.]
[*]Philippic against France. [Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France, and on the Proceedings in Certain Societies in London Relative to that Event (London, 1791).]
[*]A political writer has observed, that “the late opinions of Mr. Burke, furnished more matter of astonishment to those who had distantly observed, than to those who had correctly examined the system of his former political life. An abhorrence for abstract politics, a predilection for aristocracy, and a dread of innovation, have ever been among the most sacred articles of his public creed. It was not likely that at his age, he should abandon to the invasion of audacious novelties, opinions which he had received so early and maintained so long, which had been fortified by the applause of the great and the assent of the wise, which he had dictated to so many illustrious pupils, and supported against so many distinguished opponents. Men who early attain eminence, repose in their first creed. They neglect the progress of the human mind subsequent to its adoption; and when, as in the present case, it has burst forth into action, they regard it as a transient madness, worthy only of pity or derision. They mistake it for a mountain torrent, that will pass away with the storm that gave it birth. They know not that it is the stream of human opinion, in omne volubilis aevum, which the accession of every day will swell, which is destined to sweep into the same oblivion, the resistance of learned sophistry and of powerful oppression. Mackintosh’s Vindiciae Galliciae, on Mr. Burke’s Philippic against the French Revolution. [James Mackintosh, Vindiciae Galliciae. Defence of the French Revolution Against the Accusations of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke. . . . (London, 1791), pp. i-ii. Mackintosh refers to Burke’s Reflections as a “philippic.”]
[*]For a particular detail of this interesting affair, the trials of the two admirals, and the virulence of party on the occasion, the reader may be referred to their trials and to other British authorities. [See Annual Register (1781), “History of Europe,” pp. 173-175.]
[*]Analytical Register. [See Annual Register (1781), “History of Europe,” pp. 101–106; “State Papers,” pp. 308–310; (1782), “History of Europe,” pp. 136–141; Cobbett, XXII: 1023–1025.]
[*]The writer had the above account verbally, of the death of the son of the count de Grasse, from a gentleman then in Paris.
[*]British Annual Register. [See Annual Register (1781), “History of Europe,” pp. 101- 106, 162-173.]
[*]Annual Register. [See Annual Register (1782), “History of Europe,” pp. 124-125, 151-165, 225-226.]
[*]It may be properly asked, whenever the mind adverts to the situation and circumstances of the Barbary states, how long the European world will submit to their lawless depredations? It is a strange phenomenon in human affairs, that the nations should so long have been kept in awe by their corsairs, and be compelled from time to time to purchase a temporary peace, by becoming tributary to a people so much inferior to themselves, in manners, in arts, in arms, and in every thing that aggrandizes the powers of the earth.
[*]See copies of these papers found in Mr. Laurens’s trunk, in the British Annual Register, one thousand seven hundred and eighty, in journals of congress, and many other records. [See Annual Register (1780), “State Papers,” pp. 356–372.]
[*]See Mr. Adams’s memorial presented to the states-general one thousand seven hundred and eighty-one. [Adams, Works, VII: 396–404 (April 19, 1781).]
[‡]Dr. Calkoen, an eminent civilian of the city of Amsterdam.
[*]See letter second to Dr. Calkoen. [Adams, Works, VII: 269-271.]
[†]Their object then was a free, independent republic, without any approximation to regal authority, or monarchic usages: there was then no fighting for rank, titles, and the expensive trappings of nobility.
[*]See Mr. Adams’s address presented to Van der Sandheuvel, president of the states-general, January 9, 1782. [Probably Adams, Works, VII: 396–404.]
[*]See Universal History. [Modern Universal History, XXXI: 27.]
[*]See letter eleventh to Mr. Calkoen. [Adams, Works, VII: 291-295.]
[*]No national reflection is here designed. It is very immaterial, as observed by the great lord Chatham, whether a man was rocked in his cradle on one side of the Tweed or the other. The writer of these pages has the highest respect for the distinguished literary characters that adorn the Scotch nation. Their strength of genius, and profound investigations in philosophic, political, theological, and historic compositions, are at least on an equal scale of ability, with any of the learned luminaries of the law, or any other science, nearer the splendid beams of monarchy; and when called to distinguished office, they have perhaps, with some few exceptions, discharged their public functions with equal honor, capacity, and integrity.
[*]See History of the Reign of George the Third, by Wenderburne. [Gebhard Friedrich August Wendeborn, A View of England Towards the Close of the Eighteenth Century (2 vols.; London, 1791). The statement quoted does not appear. Nor does it appear in Belsham, Memoirs of the Reign of George III. To the Session of Parliament Ending A.D. 1793 (4 vols.; London, 1795), the title of which Warren may have confused with Wendeborn’s.]
[*]The marquis of Carmarthen stood at the head of opposition against the promotion of lord George Germaine.
[*]See a view of the reign of George the third. Another British writer has thus sketched the character of lord North:
[*]This sentiment had been communicated, by order of the minister, in a joint letter from general Carlton and lord Digby to general Washington, dated New York, August 2, 1782. [See, Annual Register (1783), “Appendix to the Chronicle,” pp. 264–266.]
[*]See journals of congress. [JCC, vols. XXIII, XXIV, and XXV, are filled with discussions of the peace negotiations eventuating in the Treaty of Paris. The ratified Treaty is in XXIV.]
[*]The reader will observe, that the author of this work has been in the habit of making appropriate observations on events as they passed, and has often hazarded conjectures on probable results. The work was written a number of years before publication, but she did not think proper either to erase them, or alter the manner, on revision. Some of those conjectures have already taken place; others probably may, at some subsequent period.
[*]It has been said, that the manner of his death was that of pouring melted gold down his throat: a strong expression of the ideas the natives had of his avarice.
[*]Mr. Oswald’s. [Richard Oswald, one of the commissioners who negotiated for peace with John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens. See, in general, Annual Register (1783), “History of Europe,” pp. 134–167.]
[*]See Appendix, Note No. III.
[*]Read the story of the nabob of Oude—† of Cheit-Sing—of the widow of Sujah Dowla—of the conquest of the Benares—the treatment of the nabobs of Bengal; and indeed of all who fell under the power of the English government, in their wars with the unfortunate Indians. These are to be found in a variety of authentic accounts of the conduct and intercourse of the English with the oriental nations.
[†]Bengal has been described as exhibiting the most charming and picturesque scenery, opening into extensive glades, covered with a fine turf, and interspersed with woods filled with a variety of birds of beautiful colors; amongst others, peacocks in abundance, sitting on the vast horizontal branches, displayed their dazzling plumes to the sun; the Ganges winding its mighty waters through the adjacent plains, adding to the prospect inexpressible grandeur: while the artist at his loom, under the immense shade of the banyan-tree, softened his labor by the tender strains of music.
[*]See Mr. Burke’s speech in the house of commons, relative to the desolation in the Carnatic. [See Cobbett, XXII: 126–131 (April 30, 1781).]
[*]See general Carleton’s letter to Mr. Boudinot, then president. [Annual Register (1783), “State Papers,” pp. 265–266.]
[*]Governor Livingston. [Source not identified.]
[*]Confederation, article sixth.
[*]Edanus Burke, esquire, chief justice of the state of South Carolina.
[*]Three of the most distinguished and upright members of congress, who early fell under the hand of this dread conqueror of all men, were, Peyton Randolph, esquire, of Virginia, Mr. Lynch, of South Carolina, and governor Ward, of Rhode Island.
[*]See Lessons to a Prince, by an anonymous writer. [David Williams, Lessons to a Young Prince on the Present Disposition in Europe to a General Revolution: with an Addition of a Lesson on theMode of Studying and Profiting by theReflections on the French Revolution by. . . Edmund Burke, by an old Statesman (6th. ed. New York, 1791).]
[†]The characters of Dickenson and Otis are well known, but the early death of Mr. Quincy prevented his name from being conspicuous in the history of American worthies. He was a gentleman of abilities and principles which qualified him to be eminently useful, in the great contest to obtain and support the freedom of his country. He had exerted his eloquence and splendid talents for his purpose, until the premature hand of death deprived society of a man, whose genius so well qualified him for the investigation of the claims, and the defence of the rights of mankind. He died on his return from a voyage to Europe, a short time before war was actually commenced between Great Britain and the colonies.
[*]Paley’s Moral Philosophy. [William Paley, The Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy (London, 1785), p. 645 (Book VI, Ch. XII).]
[†]The defence made by the British for the breach of treaty in the detention of the western posts, may be seen at large in a correspondence since published between Mr. Jefferson, the American secretary of state, and Mr. Hammond, the British plenipotentiary to the United States; on which a British writer observed to his countrymen—“Your diplomatists have shrunk before the reasonings of Jefferson.”
[*]General Washington’s farewell orders to the army of the United States, may be seen in Appendix, Note No. V.
[*]Mrs. Washington’s letter to Mrs. Warren, 1789. [Source not identified. See MOW to Martha Washington, (October?) 1789, MOWLB, pp. 127–128.]
[*]Isaiah, 41st chap.
[*]See British Encyclopaedia, published 1792. [Warren might be referring to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, the first edition of which appeared 1768–1771, the second 1777–1784, and the third 1788–1797.]
[†]See View of the Reign of George the Third. [The quoted statement appears in neither Gebhard Friedrich August Wendeborn, A View of England Towards theClose of theEighteenth Century (2 vols.; London, 1791) nor William Belsham, Memoirs of theReign of George III. To theSession of Parliament ending A.D. 1793 (4 vols.; London, 1795).]
[*]Some of them indeed were artful and shrewd, but most of them were deluded and persuaded to attempt, by resistance to government, to relieve themselves from debts which they could not pay, and from the hand of tax-gatherers, who had distrained in some instances to the last article of their property.
[*]This convention was composed of some gentlemen of the first character and abilities; of some men of shining talents and doubtful character: some of them were uniform republicans, others decided monarchists, with a few neutrals, ready to join the strongest party. It was not strange there was much clashing and debate, where such dissentient opinions existed: but after some modification and concession, a constitution was formed, which when the amendments took place immediately on its adoption, the government of the United States stood on a basis which rendered the people respectable abroad and safe at home.
[*]Lessons to a Prince. [David Williams, Lessons to a Young Prince on the Present Disposition in Europe to a General Revolution: With an Addition of a Lesson on the Mode of Studying and Profiting by theReflections on the French Revolution by . . . Edmund Burke, by an Old Statesman (6th. ed.; New York, 1791). The words quoted actually come from the Massachusetts Constitution, Bill of Rights, Art. VII, though they are consistent with Williams’s views. See Herbert J. Storing, ed., The Complete Anti-Federalist (7 vols.; Chicago, 1981), 6: 248 n.5.]
[*]Many amendments were made soon after the adoption of the constitution.
[*]See doctor Franklin’s speech, on his signing the articles of the new constitution of government, which was to be laid before the people. [Franklin’s “Speech in the Convention, At the Conclusion of its Deliberations,” in Albert Henry Smyth, ed., The Writings of Benjamin Franklin (10 vols.; New York, 1905–1907), 9: 607–609. Warren’s version of Franklin’s speech is inaccurate. Herbert J. Storing suggests that Warren relied on a distorted rendition of the speech reported in the Massachusetts Gazette, December 14, 1787. Storing, ed., The Complete Anti-Federalist (7 vols.; Chicago, 1981), 6: 248 n.6.]
[*]This was the opinion of some of his most intimate associates at the time; yet doubtless general Washington thought it his duty to aid his country at so critical an era.
[*]Letter to the author. [Source not identified.]
[†]This letter was written before several important amendments were made.
[*]See treaty of Pilnitz. [The Declaration of Pilnitz, August 27, 1791, was the response of Leopold II and King Friedrich William II of Prussia to the flight and eventual arrest of Louis XVI of France. The agreement pledged armed intervention against the revolutionary regime, and war with France followed within a year.]
[*]See Findley’s history of the disturbances in the back parts of Pennsylvania. [William Findley, History of the Insurrection in the Four Western Counties of Pennsylvania: in the Year MDCCXCIV (Philadelphia, 1796).]
[†]General Hamilton was believed to be the prime mover and conductor of this extraordinary business.
[*]Circumstances may in some future day render it necessary to adopt this mode of government in the United States. Rome had not a master until the people had become prepared for the yoke by their dissensions and follies. These, more than the arm of Caesar, rivetted their chains, and sunk them to a level with the most abject and servile nations.
[*]The above summary of the French revolution was written several years before monarchy was re-established in France.
[*]The duke D’Alencour, who visited the family of the author, in his exile under the tyranny of Robespierre, observed justly, that “the sources of disorder in France were so innumerable, that it was impossible to conjecture when tranquillity would be again restored, or what masters or what government the nation would sit down under, after their violent convulsions subsided.” Through a very interesting conversation relative to the causes and consequences of the revolution, the deepest marks of grief and sensibility sat on the countenance of the noble sufferer, expressive of the pain he felt for the miseries of his country, and the misfortunes of his family. [Duc de la Rochefoucauld-Liancourt recounted his visit to the Warrens in Voyages dans les Etats-Unis d’Amerique (Paris, 1799), III: 150. He observed that James Warren was “now an old man, and very frail. His wife is as old as himself, but much more lively in conversation. Like the other ladies of America, she has read a great deal on a variety of subjects. She has even published one or two volumes of tales, which are much esteemed; and she has written a history of the American revolution. . . . This old lady, at the age of seventy, is truly interesting; for she has lost neither the activity of her mind, nor the graces of her person. . . . ” Travels Through the United States of North America, the Country of the Iriquois, and Upper Canada, in the Years 1795, 1796, and 1797 (London, 1799), I:485.]
[*]Dr. F. A. Wenderburne. He gives his reason for his assertion, page 475 of his view of England at the close of the eighteenth century. [Gebhard Friedrich August Wendeborn, A View of England Towards the Close of the Eighteenth Century (2 vols.; London, 1791), II: 475.]
[*]Montesquieu. [See Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws (2 vols.; first Am. ed. from 5th London ed.; Worcester, 1802), I, Book XIX. The quote does not appear, but Montesquieu discusses here the reciprocal influence of laws and manners.]
[*]Mackintosh’s Vindiciae Galliciae, p. 77, 79. [James Mackintosh, Vindiciae Gallicae. Defence of the French Revolution Against the Accusations of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke. . . . (London, 1791.) Warren’s quotation is substantially accurate.]
[*]Mackintosh. [Mackintosh, Vindiciae Gallicae. Defence of the French Revolution Against the Accusations of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke. . . . (London, 1791), pp. 215, 115. Surprisingly, Warren neglected to quote a significant part of Mackintosh’s statement: “All the Governments that now exist in the world, (except the United States of America) have been fortuitously formed.” (p. 215).]
[*]The beginning of the nineteenth century, which circumscribes the limits of the supplementary observations subjoined to the History of the Revolution.
[*]It is true that this respectable order of men interested themselves on the great subject of opposition to the aggressions of the British parliament; this was sometimes done at the request of legislators, who thought every aid necessary to awaken the people to a sense of their rights. But the ground on which the clergy came forward on political subjects, was then very different from the present party disputes. There was then, (with few exceptions) a united opposition of the whole collective body of the people, against a foreign power aiming to deprive them of their civil and religious privileges, and to load them with taxes, impositions and innovations, novel and grievous. The dissentions are now wholly internal, which render the influence of every pious clergyman necessary to soothe the passions and heal the animosities enkindled among the people of his own particular charge.
[*]The limits of the present work preclude any historical record subsequent to the year 1801.
[*]Read the story of the nabob of Oude—† of Cheit-Sing—of the widow of Sujah Dowla—of the conquest of the Benares—the treatment of the nabobs of Bengal; and indeed of all who fell under the power of the English government, in their wars with the unfortunate Indians. These are to be found in a variety of authentic accounts of the conduct and intercourse of the English with the oriental nations.
[†]See a part of a speech made by Mr. Sheridan on this subject, Appendix, Note No. IV.