"After this view of the Congress, turn to the army. The whole world knows that its only existence depends upon you, that your death or captivity disperses it in a moment, and that there is not a man on that side—the question in America—capable of succeeding you. As to the army itself, what have you to expect from them? Have they not frequently abandoned you yourself in the hour of extremity? Can you have the least confidence in a set of undisciplined men and officers, many of whom have been taken from the lowliest of the people, without principle, without courage? Take away them that surround your person, how very few there are you can ask to sit at your table! As to your little navy, of that little what is left? Of the Delaware fleet part are taken, and the rest must soon surrender. Of those in the other provinces some are taken, one or two at sea, and others lying unmanned and unrigged in your harbors.
"In America your harbors are blocked up, your cities fall one after another; fortress after fortress, battle after battle is lost. A British army, after having passed unmolested through a vast extent of country, have possessed themselves of the Capital of America. How unequal the contest! How fruitless the expense of blood! Under so many discouraging circumstances, can virtue, can honor, can the love of your country prompt you to proceed? Humanity itself, and sure humanity is no stranger to your breast, calls upon you to desist. Your army must perish for want of common necessaries or thousands of innocent families must perish to support them; wherever they encamp, the country must be impoverished; wherever they march, the troops of Britain will pursue, and must complete the destruction which America herself has begun. Perhaps it may be said, it is better to die than to be made slaves. This, indeed, is a splendid maxim in theory, and perhaps in some instances may be found experimentally true; but when there is the least probability of a happy accommodation, surely, wisdom and humanity call for some sacrifices to be made to prevent inevitable destruction. You well know there is but one invincible bar to such an accommodation; could this be removed, other obstacles might readily be removed. It is to you and you alone your bleeding country looks and calls aloud for this sacrifice. Your arm alone has strength sufficient to remove this bar. May Heaven inspire you with this glorious resolution of exerting your strength at this crisis, and immortalizing yourself as friend and guardian to your country! Your penetrating eye needs not more explicit language to discern my meaning. With that prudence and delicacy, therefore, of which I know you possessed, represent to Congress the indispensable necessity of rescinding the hasty and ill-advised declaration of independence. Recommend, and you have an undoubted right to recommend, an immediate cessation of hostilities. Let the controversy be taken up where that declaration left it, and where Lord Howe certainly expected to find it left. Let men of clear and impartial characters, in or out of Congress, liberal in their sentiments, heretofore independent in their fortunes—and some such may be found in America—be appointed to confer with His Majesty's Commissioners. Let them, if they please, propose some well-digested constitutional plan to lay before them at the commencement of the negotiation. When they have gone thus far I am confident the usual happy consequences will ensue—unanimity will immediately take place through the different provinces, thousands who are now ardently wishing and praying for such a measure will step forth and declare themselves the zealous advocates for constitutional liberty, and millions will bless the hero that left the field of war to decide this most important contest with the weapons of wisdom and humanity.
"O sir, let no false ideas of worldly honor deter you from engaging in so glorious a task! Whatever censure may be thrown out by mean, illiberal minds, your character will rise in the estimation of the virtuous and noble. It will appear with lustre in the annals of history, and form a glorious contrast to that of those who have fought to obtain conquest and gratify their own ambition by the destruction of their species and the ruin of their country. Be assured, sir, that I write not this under the eye of any British officer or person connected with the British army or ministry. The sentiments I express are the real sentiments of my own heart, such as I have long held, and which I should have made known to you by letter before had I not fully expected an opportunity of a private conference. When you passed through Philadelphia on your way to Wilmington I was confined by a severe fit of the gravel to my chamber; I have since continued much indisposed, and times have been so very distressing that I had neither spirit to write a letter nor an opportunity to convey it when written, nor do I yet know by what means I shall get these sheets to your hands.
"I would fain hope that I have said nothing by which your delicacy can be in the least hurt. If I have, I assure you it has been without the least intention, and therefore your candor will lead you to forgive me. I have spoken freely of Congress and of the army; but what I have said is partly from my own knowledge and partly from the information of some respectable members of the former and some of the best officers of the latter. I would not offend the meanest person upon earth; what I say to you I say in confidence to answer what I cannot but deem a most valuable purpose. I love my country; I love you; but to the love of truth, the love of peace, and the love of God, I hope I should be enabled if called upon to the trial to sacrifice every other inferior love.
"If the arguments made use of in this letter should have so much influence as to engage you in the glorious work which I have warmly recommended, I shall ever deem my success the highest temporal favor that Providence could grant me. Your interposition and advice I am confident would meet with a favorable reception from the authority under which you act.
"If it should not, you have an infallible recourse still left—negotiate for your country at the head of your army. After all, it may appear presumption as an individual to address himself to you on a subject of such magnitude, or to say what measures would best secure the interest and welfare of a whole continent. The friendly and favorable opinion you have always expressed for me emboldens me to undertake it, and which has greatly added to the weight of this motive. I have been strongly impressed with a sense of duty upon the occasion, which left my conscience uneasy and my heart afflicted till I fully discharged it. I am no enthusiast; the course is new and singular to me; but I could not enjoy one moment's peace till this letter was written. With the most ardent prayers for your spiritual as well as temporal welfare, I am your most obedient and humble friend and servant,
Jacob Duche."
The estimation in which Mr. Duche was held before he wrote this letter, by John Adams, who was not particularly friendly to Episcopalians, who as a class were Loyalists (although Washington was one), is here shown. Adams says: "Mr. Duche is one of the most ingenuous men, and of best character, and greatest orator in the Episcopal order upon this continent; yet a zealous friend of liberty and his country."[70]
In the cold light of truth it now seems quite clear that Americans took up arms before they were in any real danger of oppression, and George III. was persuaded to concede more than all their reasonable demands, but yielded too late to save the integrity of the empire.
We are taught in many of our histories that George III. was a tyrant, seeking to establish despotism, and that Washington rescued and preserved Anglo-Saxon liberty, not only in America, but wherever it existed in the British domains; but this is too extravagant a compliment to the king. We may admit that he was a respectable man in private life, that he acted on principle, as he understood it, in his public career, and that he had some princely accomplishments, but was far from a great man. Certainly he was not in the class of conqueror, nor was he able to commit "a splendid crime." His mother was ever croaking in his ears: "George, be a king!" Thackeray gives us a touching account of the king's last years. All history, he tells us, presents no sadder picture. It is too terrible for tears. Driven from his throne, buffeted by rude hands, his children in revolt, his ending was as pitiful and awful as that of King Lear. In a lucid moment the Queen entered his room and found him singing and playing on a musical instrument. When he had finished he knelt and prayed for her and for his family, and for the nation, and last for himself. And then tears began to flow down his cheeks, and his reason fled again. Caesar, Henry VIII., and Napoleon tried to establish a dynasty of despots, and failed. As we glance at the figure of George III. and recall the traits of his character, we see that Anglo-Saxon civilization or liberty was in no danger of permanent injury from the last king of England who tried to reign.