LAURENS TO HAMILTON.
Charleston, 1779.
Ternant will relate to you how many violent struggles I have had between duty and inclination—how much my heart was with you, while I appeared to be most actively employed here. But it appears to me that I should be inexcusable in the light of a citizen, if I did not continue my utmost efforts for carrying the plan of the black levies into execution, while there remains the smallest hopes of success.
Our army is reduced to nothing almost, by the departure of the Virginians. Scott’s arrival will scarcely restore us to our ancient number. If the enemy destine the reinforcements from Great Britain to this quarter, as in policy they ought to do, that number will be insufficient for the security of our country. The Governor, among other matters to be laid before the House of Assembly, intends to propose the completing our continental battalions by drafts from the militia. This measure, I am told, is so unpopular that there is no hope of succeeding in it. Either this must be adopted, or the black levies, or the State will fall a victim to the improvidence of its inhabitants.
The House of Representatives have had a longer recess than usual, occasioned by the number of members in the field. It will be convened, however, in a few days. I intend to qualify, and make a final effort. Oh that I were a Demosthenes! The Athenians never deserved a more bitter exprobation than our countrymen.
General Clinton’s movements, and your march in consequence, made me wish to be with you. If any thing important should be done in your quarter, while I am doing daily penance here, and making useless harangues, I shall execrate my stars, and be out of humor with the world. I entreat you, my dear friend, write me as freely as circumstances will permit, and enlighten me upon what is going forward.
Adieu. My love to our colleagues. I am afraid I was so thoughtless as to omit my remembrances to Gibbs. Tell him that I am always his sincere well-wisher, and hope to laugh with him again ere long.
Adieu again. Yours ever,
John Laurens.