Appendix, 1

Since the first edition of this pamphlet appeared—or rather, on the very day it appeared—the King’s Speech has arrived in this city. Had a prophetic spirit directed the birth of this work, it could not have brought it forth at a more timely or more necessary moment. The bloodthirstiness of the one shows the need to pursue the doctrine of the other. People read in a spirit of revenge. And the Speech, instead of frightening them, has prepared the way for the courageous principles of independence.

Ceremony, and even silence, whatever their motives, do harm when they lend the slightest encouragement to base and wicked deeds. If this principle holds, it follows that the King’s Speech, a masterpiece of villainy, deserved—and still deserves—the general condemnation of both Congress and the people. Yet a nation’s domestic peace depends greatly on the integrity of what may rightly be called its national manners. It is often better to pass over some things in silent contempt than to adopt new ways of expressing disapproval that might bring even the smallest change to that guardian of our peace and safety. Perhaps it is chiefly due to such prudent restraint that the King’s Speech has not already been publicly put to death. The Speech, if it can be called one, is nothing less than a deliberate, brazen libel against truth, the common good, and the existence of mankind; it is a formal, pompous way of offering human sacrifices to the pride of tyrants. But this general slaughter of mankind is one of the privileges of kings, and its inevitable consequence. Nature does not recognize them, and they do not recognize her. Though we ourselves created them, they do not recognize us: they have become the gods of their creators. The Speech has one good quality: it is not designed to deceive, and even if we wished to be deceived by it, we could not be. Its brutality and tyranny are plain on its face. It leaves us in no doubt. Every line convinces us as we read that the naked and untaught Indian who hunts the woods for prey is less a savage than the king of Britain.

Sir John Dalrymple, the reputed father of a whining, Jesuitical piece falsely called “The Address of the people of England to the inhabitants of America,” has perhaps given the present king’s true character, though most unwisely, out of the vain belief that people here could be frightened by royal pomp and titles. “But,” says this writer, “if you are inclined to pay compliments to an administration, which we do not complain of” (meaning the Marquis of Rockingham’s administration at the repeal of the Stamp Act), “it is very unfair in you to withhold them from that prince, by whose nod alone they were permitted to do any thing.” Here is Toryism indeed! Here is idolatry without even a mask. Anyone who can calmly hear and swallow such a doctrine has forfeited all claim to reason—an apostate from humanity itself. He should be regarded as one who has not only surrendered the rightful dignity of a human being but fallen beneath the rank of animals, crawling contemptibly through the world like a worm.

But it now matters very little what the king of England says or does. He has wickedly violated every moral and human obligation and trampled nature and conscience underfoot. By a steady, constitutionally sanctioned spirit of insolence and cruelty, he has earned universal hatred. America must now provide for herself. She already has a large, young family, and her duty to care for them is greater than any duty to give away her property in support of a power that has become a disgrace to the names of men and Christians. You whose office is to watch over a nation’s morals, whatever your sect or denomination, and you who are more directly the guardians of public liberty: if you wish to keep your native country undefiled by European corruption, in your hearts you must wish for separation. But I leave the moral side to private reflection and will confine most of my further remarks to the following subjects.

First. That it is in America’s interest to separate from Britain.

Secondly. Which plan is easier and more practicable, reconciliation or independence? With some remarks along the way.

In support of the first, I could, if I thought it proper, cite the opinions of some of the ablest and most experienced men on this Continent, whose views on the question are not yet public. In truth, the proposition is self-evident. No nation dependent on a foreign power, restricted in trade, and cramped and fettered in its power to make laws can ever achieve any great eminence. America does not yet know what prosperity is. Though her progress has no parallel in the history of other nations, it is mere childhood beside what she could attain if, as she should, she held the power to legislate in her own hands. England proudly covets something that would do her no good even if she gained it; meanwhile the Continent hesitates over a matter whose neglect will finally ruin her. It is by trading with America, not conquering her, that England will benefit. Much of that trade would continue if the countries were as independent of each other as France and Spain, since for many goods neither could find a better market. But this country’s independence from Britain, or from any other power, is now the principal and only object worth struggling for. Like every other truth discovered under the pressure of necessity, it will appear clearer and stronger with each passing day.

First. Because sooner or later it will happen.

Secondly. Because the longer it is delayed, the harder it will be to achieve.

In public and private gatherings I have often entertained myself by silently observing the plausible errors of people who speak without thinking. Of the many I have heard, the most common seems to be this: if the break had occurred forty or fifty years from now rather than now, the Continent would have been better able to cast off its dependence. My reply is that our present military ability comes from experience gained in the last war, experience that would be entirely lost in forty or fifty years. By then the Continent would have no general, not even a military officer, left; we, or those who succeed us, would know as little of war as the ancient Indians. This fact alone, carefully considered, proves beyond answer that the present is preferable to every other time. The argument is this: at the end of the last war, we had experience but lacked numbers; forty or fifty years from now, we would have numbers but no experience. The right moment must therefore fall between those extremes, when enough of the former remains and sufficient growth in the latter has been achieved. That moment is now.

The reader will forgive this digression, which does not properly belong under my first subject. I return to it with the following proposition:

If we patch things up with Britain and leave her the sovereign power governing America—which, as matters stand, would be to surrender the whole point—we will deprive ourselves of the very means of paying off the debt we have incurred or may yet incur. The value of the western lands of which some provinces have secretly been deprived by the unjust extension of Canada’s boundaries, reckoned at only five pounds sterling per hundred acres, comes to more than twenty-five millions in Pennsylvania currency; and their quit-rents, reckoned at one penny sterling per acre, come to two millions yearly.

Selling those lands would pay off the debt without burdening anyone; the quit-rents reserved on them would continually lessen the annual cost of government and, in time, cover it entirely. It does not matter how long paying the debt takes, provided the proceeds when the lands are sold go toward discharging it. The Congress then in office will serve as the Continent’s trustees in carrying this out.

I turn now to the second subject: which plan is easier and more practicable, reconciliation or independence? With some remarks along the way.

Anyone who takes nature as a guide is not easily driven from an argument. On that ground I give this general answer: independence is a single, straightforward course within our own power; reconciliation is an exceedingly tangled and complicated affair, dependent on the intervention of a treacherous and capricious court. The answer admits no doubt.

The King's Speech appeared in this city on the very day the first edition of this pamphlet was published. Even if a prophetic spirit had timed the pamphlet's release, it could not have chosen a more useful or necessary moment. The Speech's appetite for blood shows why the pamphlet's argument must be followed. People read the pamphlet to get back at the king. Far from frightening them, the Speech prepared them to accept the bold principles of independence.

Formal courtesies, and even silence, can do harm, whatever the reason for them, when they appear to give the slightest approval to shameful and wicked acts. If that is true, the King's Speech, being a thoroughly wicked piece of work, deserved then and still deserves public condemnation from both Congress and the people. Yet peace within a nation depends greatly on keeping its public conduct decent. Sometimes it is better to respond with silent contempt than to introduce a new way of showing disapproval that might weaken this protection for our peace and safety. Perhaps it is mainly because people have wisely taken such care that the King's Speech has not already been condemned publicly and ceremonially. If it can be called a speech, it is nothing but a deliberate, shameless attack on truth, the common good, and human life. It is an elaborate, pompous way of offering human beings as sacrifices to the pride of tyrants. This mass killing of people is both a privilege kings claim and a sure result of their rule. Nature did not create kings, and kings have no regard for nature. We created them, yet they have no regard for us. They have made themselves gods over the people who created them. The Speech has one good quality: it makes no effort to deceive us. We could not be fooled by it even if we wanted to be. Its brutality and tyranny are obvious. Its meaning is unmistakable. Every line makes us see, as we read it, that the Indian who hunts wild animals in the woods without clothing or schooling is less savage than the king of Britain.

Sir John Dalrymple is thought to have written a whining, deceitful piece called “The Address of the people of England to the inhabitants of America.” Perhaps he imagined that descriptions of royal splendor would frighten the people here. Instead, he unwisely revealed the present king's true character. “But,” this writer says, “if you are inclined to pay compliments to an administration, which we do not complain of,” meaning the Marquis of Rockingham's administration when it repealed the Stamp Act, “it is very unfair in you to withhold them from that prince, by whose nod alone they were permitted to do any thing.” That is Tory loyalty in its fullest form! Here is worship of the king without even an attempt to hide it. Anyone who can hear such an idea calmly and accept it has given up any claim to reason. He has abandoned his standing as a human being. He has not only surrendered human dignity but sunk below the animals, crawling contemptibly through the world like a worm.

By now, however, what the king of England says or does matters very little. He has wickedly broken every moral and human obligation and trampled nature and conscience underfoot. His consistent, systematic arrogance and cruelty have earned him universal hatred. America must now look after herself. She already has a large, young family to care for. That is a greater duty than handing over her property to support a ruler who disgraces the names of human beings and Christians. To those whose duty is to guard the nation's morals, whatever your religious group, and those more directly responsible for protecting public freedom: if you want to keep your native country free from European corruption, you must secretly want separation. But I will leave the moral question for each person to consider privately. My remaining remarks will mostly address these questions.

First. Why is separation from Britain in America's interest?

Second. Which plan is easier and more practical, reconciliation or independence? I will add a few related remarks.

On the first question, I could cite some of the most capable and experienced people on this continent, if I thought it right to do so. Their views on the subject are not yet public. But the point is self-evident. No country that depends on a foreign power, with its trade restricted and its power to make laws hampered and bound, can ever achieve much. America does not yet know real wealth. Her progress has no parallel in the history of other nations, but it is only a child's progress compared with what she could achieve if she had control over her own laws, as she should. England now pursues with great arrogance something that would do her no good even if she got it. Meanwhile the Continent hesitates over a decision that will ultimately ruin it if ignored. England stands to gain from trade with America, not from conquering her. Much of that trade would continue even if the countries were as independent of each other as France and Spain, because in many goods neither could find a better market. But this country's independence from Britain or any other power is now the one main goal worth fighting for. Like any truth revealed by necessity, it will become clearer and more convincing each day.

First. Because independence will come sooner or later.

Second. Because the longer it is delayed, the harder it will be to achieve.

In public and private gatherings, I have often quietly noticed how persuasive the mistaken arguments of people who speak without thinking can sound. The most common one I have heard is that the Continent would have been better able to end its dependence if the break had happened forty or fifty years from now instead of today. My answer is that our present military ability comes from experience gained in the last war. That experience would have disappeared completely in forty or fifty years. By then, the Continent would have no general, or even a military officer, left from that experience. We, or those who come after us, would know as little about war as the ancient Indians did. This one point, considered carefully, proves beyond dispute that now is the best time. Here is the argument: at the end of the last war, we had experience but lacked people. Forty or fifty years from now, we would have enough people but no experience. So the right time must lie somewhere between those two extremes, when enough experience remains and our population has grown enough. That time is now.

I hope the reader will forgive this digression. It does not really fall under the first question I set out to discuss. I return to that question with this point:

If we patch things up with Britain and she remains America's ruling and sovereign power—which, under present circumstances, would mean giving up our entire aim—we will lose the very means to pay off the debt we already have or may incur. Some provinces have secretly been deprived of their lands in the interior by an unfair extension of Canada's borders. Even valuing those lands at only five pounds sterling per hundred acres gives a total of more than twenty-five million in Pennsylvania currency. The annual quit-rents on them, at one penny sterling per acre, come to two million.

Selling those lands could pay off the debt without burdening anyone. The quit-rents retained on the land would always reduce the annual cost of government and eventually pay that cost in full. It does not matter how long repayment takes, provided the proceeds of the land sales go toward the debt. The Congress in office at the time will act as trustee for the Continent to make sure this happens.

I now turn to the second question: which is easier and more practical, reconciliation or independence? I will add a few related remarks.

An argument based on nature is hard to defeat. So my general answer is this: independence is one simple course that is entirely within our control. Reconciliation is extremely tangled and complicated, and a deceitful, unpredictable royal court would have a part in it. The answer is beyond doubt.