History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution. Mercy Otis Warren
the dukes of Manchester, Devonshire, Richmond, and Grafton, with many others of equal rank and consideration, appeared on the protests against the sanguine, summary, and dangerous proceedings of parliament. Their opinions were supported even by some of the royal family: the efforts of the duke of Cumberland were strenuous; he reprobated in the most explicit terms, the whole American system; he lamented in pathetic language, the employing of foreigners; he observed, that he much regretted “that Brunswickers, who once to their honor, had been employed in defence of the liberties of the subject, should now be sent to subjugate a distant part of the British empire.”†
But in spite of protests, arguments, reason, or humanity, the parliament of Britain proceeded as expressed in the dissent of the lords, to “a refinement in tyranny.” Towards the close of the year, they interdicted all trade with America, declared the colonies out of the royal protection, licensed the seizure of their property on the high seas, and by an act of parliament, gave the forfeiture to the captors, and directed an indiscriminate compulsion of all persons taken on board any American vessel, to serve as common sailors in his majesty’s navy.
[280] This mode of procedure was opposed and criminated with all the powers of language, by some members of the first consequence in the house of commons. They pronounced it the last degree of wretchedness and indignity to which human nature could be subjugated. They observed that
this was an instance of tyranny worse than death, thus to compel the unfortunate captives who might fall into their hands, after being plundered themselves, to assist their enemies in plundering their brethren.
They asserted
that such modes of severity were without example, except among pirates, outlaws and the common enemies of civil society.
Yet, notwithstanding these sensible remonstrances, there were some of the most distinguished characters in England, so heated by party spirit, national pride, and the high claims of parliamentary dignity and superiority, as shamelessly to avow the necessity of leaping over the boundaries of equity, and winking out of sight the immutable laws of justice. It is painful to record, as an evidence of this assertion, a single instance, that must cause a blush for the weakness or wickedness of man. Even the great lord Mansfield, whose superior talents, profound erudition, law knowledge, and philosophical abilities, should have elevated him above all local or party prejudices, declared publickly, “that the original question of right ought no longer to be considered; that the justice of the cause must give way to the present situation; [281] that they were engaged in a war, and must use every effort to obtain the end proposed thereby.”* If the politician can justify this sophistical reasoning, the dictates of justice must lead the upright to revolt at the idea: a declaration so devoid of the principles of rectitude, from a man of his lordship’s celebrity, at once shocks the feelings of equity and wounds the sensations of humanity.
The passions of some were irritated by this extraordinary speech of lord Mansfield, and the judgment of others convinced, that America had nothing to expect either from the justice or clemency of parliament, under the influence of men of such abilities and principles. Yet still the chimerical project of conquest and subjugation, continued to be uniformly opposed by the dissenting lords in one house, and a melioration of the American system urged in the other, on the strongest grounds of reason, justice, policy, and humanity; but a ministerial majority was astonishingly kept up in both, and on a division on every question relative to the colonies, the minority bore no proportion to the names in the other scale.
A war with America did not at this period appear to be the general wish of the nation at [282] large; but engaged in their own pleasures and pursuits, they seemed rather inattentive to the object in dispute, as a matter that very little concerned them. There was indeed some clamor among the great body of the merchants, on the total destruction of the American trade, and some of the manufacturing towns were disposed to be riotous on the occasion; but the danger of a foreign war, or a final dismemberment of the empire, was not generally apprehended by the people, though these consequences were predicted by some sagacious heads, and the hearts of the patriotic and compassionate were hurt by the anticipation of the impending evils.
Calling in the aid of foreigners, and introducing a large body of German mercenaries in British pay, to settle a domestic quarrel with the colonies, was mortifying to the pride and valor of every uncorrupted Englishman. But the torrent of secret influence was irresistible; the expensive system was precipitated: prerogative and conquest was the ministerial creed; power the princely object: and on the approbatory speech of the monarch, when all was at hazard, there appeared a coolness that bordered on apathy. Silence and submission were enjoined on the friends of America in the house of commons; and the liberty of writing their names, and witnessing their uneasiness by their own signature, was all the consolation of the [283] protesting lords, while these important questions were in agitation.*
The debates in parliament relative to colonial measures, the king’s speech, and the rejection of the late petition of the continental congress, arrived in America before the month of March, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-six. These were accompanied with the intelligence of the Hessian treaty, and that foreign auxiliaries from various other nations were to be employed in the compulsory system, and that the barbarous strangers were to assist in the entire subjugation of the colonies, if not otherwise reduced to unworthy submission.
On this information, the indignation of all ranks can scarcely be described. The king’s speech was condemned, and ordered to be burnt in the centre of the camp at Cambridge. The wavering were resolved, the timid grew bold, the placid and philosophic lovers of peace left the retired haunts of literary felicity, and beneath the helmet and the buckler, courted the post of danger:—vigorous action was now the [284] only line of conduct to be observed through every department. Previous to any other movement, it was judged important that the British forces should be immediately removed from their strong hold in the town of Boston, lest the work should be rendered more difficult on the arrival of fresh troops from Great Britain, now daily expected.
General Washington, sensible of this necessity, and that no more time was to be lost, opened a severe cannonade on the western side, not far distant from the town, on the evening of the fourth of March. This was designed rather to divert attention within the walls, than for any important consequences expected from this manoeuvre without. The Americans kept up a constant fire through the night, while several smaller works were erected for the annoyance of the besieged; but the principal effect was expected from the heights of Dorchester. By the greatest industry and dispatch, a strong battery, very unexpectedly to the enemy, appeared there on the morning of the fifth, from whence the Americans played their artillery with ease on the town. The assailants under the direction of general Thomas, erected and extended their works in such a judicious manner, as to command the peninsula leading to Boston, Castle-William, and at the same time a considerable part of the harbor.
[285] General Howe, mortified that such an advantageous post should have been so long neglected by himself, and astonished at the appearance of such strong and defensible works, rising as it were in a night, without noise or alarm in that quarter, did not long hesitate on the part necessary for him to act in this critical conjuncture. There remained no alternative between a bold and vigorous attempt to dislodge the Americans, or an immediate evacuation of the town. To fly on the first appearance of danger, was humiliating to the pride of the soldier, lessening his military honor, and sinking the dignity of the commander in chief.
A choice of difficulties lay before him. He was short of provisions; the soldiers had become discontented with the service, and fatigued with continual watching: an immediate retreat might appear to him less disgraceful, than the consequences of resistance under many apparent disadvantages. On the other hand, chagrined at the idea of drawing off seven or eight thousand of the best troops the king his master had in service, without striking a blow, and relinquishing the only American town they then had in possession, to the undisciplined peasantry of the country, was still a more humiliating thought. From these considerations he made all possible preparation to dislodge the American troops, the evening after they were discovered on the heights of Dorchester. But [286] the intervention of the elements disconcerted his operations: a tremendous storm of wind and rain prevented the dangerous enterprise, and saved