The Crisis. Number VI. Approx. 14 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI : 2011-05. N11006 N11006 Evans 13945 APX9373 13945 99026349

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Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 13945. (Evans-TCP ; no. N11006) Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 13945) Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 13945) The Crisis. Number VI. p. 41-48 ; 19 cm. (8vo) Printed by Benjamin Towne, [Philadelphia : 1775] Addressed to Lord North. Caption title. Imprint supplied by Evans.

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eng North, Frederick, -- Lord, 1732-1792. North, Frederick, -- Lord, 1732-1792. United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Foreign public opinion. Great Britain -- Colonies -- America. 2009-01 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-02 Keyed and coded from Readex/Newsbank page images 2010-01 Sampled and proofread 2010-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
THE CRISIS. NUMBER VI. Is there not ſome hidden curſe in the ſtores of Heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blaſt the man who owes his greatneſs to his country's ruin. To the Right Honorable LORD NORTH, Firſt Lord of the Treaſury, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Ranger of Buſhy Park, &c. &c. My LORD,

WE know not which is moſt to be deteſted, your Lordſhip's puſillanimity, or your villany, ſuch a miſcreant never before diſgraced the adminiſtration of any country, nor the confidence of any King; one day you are all fire and ſword, Boſton is to be laid in aſhes, and the rivers of America are to run with the blood of her inhabitants; ſhips are prepared, troops embarked, and officers appointed for the threatened carnage; you no ſooner find the brave Americans are determined to reſiſt your inſtruments of ſlaughter, and to oppoſe the cruel deſigns of a deſpotic tyrant, to rob them of their rights, than all the bravadoing and all the bluſtering of your Lordſhip, is immediately ſoftened into a calm, and you relax; fear ſeizes your daſtardly ſoul, and you ſink beneath the weight of accumulated guilt.

One day we hear of nothing but accuſations, proſcriptions, impeachments, and bills of attainder againſt the patriots in America, and they are ſpeedily to be apprehended, and to receive a puniſhment due to their crimes, due to rebels; three days do not clapſe before this juſt and noble reſolution of your Lordſhip to bring thoſe traitors to a trial is dropped, and lenient or no ſteps are to be taken againſt them. Another day all the colonies are in a ſtate of rebellion, and the laſt advices received from America, you tell the Houſe of Commons, were of a very alarming nature, and ſuch a daring ſpirit of reſiſtance had manifeſted itſelf throughout the continent, that it was now high time Parliament ſhould adopt meaſures for enforcing obedience to the late acts, a plan is no ſooner propoſed by you, but carried by a rotten majority, for reducing them to a ſtate of ſubjection to your, and your royal maſter's will; and bloodſhed and ſlaughter ſtare them in the face; they laugh at your impotent malice, and with a ſpirited firmneſs, becoming of freemen, dare you to the ſtroke; when behold, your threats, and the reſolutions of your venal troop (I will not call it a Britiſh ſenate) become like the threats and reſolutions of a ſociety of coal-porters, who declare vengeance againſt another body of men, who will not comply with their unlawful impoſitions, but fear the next day, without even the ſhadow of juſtice on their ſide, to carry their deſperate deſign into execution. The motion you made, my Lord, in the Houſe of Commons, on Monday laſt, for a ſuſpenſion of the ſeveral American acts, till it is known which of the provinces will raiſe a revenue, and contribute to the luxuries of the parent ſtate, ſubject to the controul of the Britiſh Parliament, is a ſubterfuge too low, and too thinly diſguiſed to deceive the Americans, or to impoſe upon the underſtanding of the meaneſt capacity; it is evident to the world this is only a villanous plan to divide them, who, while united together, may bid defiance to all your Lordſhip's cunning, fraud, force, and villany. The Americans, my Lord, are too ſenſible, and too brave to be drawn into any trap, either of your, or your royal maſter's making; you may weave the web as artfully as you pleaſe for their deſtruction, and they will be ſure to break it; their cauſe is juſt, 'tis the cauſe of heaven, and built upon the ſolid foundation of truth and liberty; they will carefully watch over the ſacred gifts of God, and never ſurrender them to you, nor any power upon earth, but with their lives. You have found, my Lord, that your hoſtile invaſion, and all your force and violence would not terrify them into a compliance with your meaſures, nor anſwer the infamous deſign of making the King abſolute in America; and now you are determined to try, whether by fraud and artifice you can effect your purpoſe.

You have, my Lord, by the moſt cruel oppreſſions drove the Americans to a ſtate of deſperation, you have deſtroyed their charters, invaded their rights, impoſed taxes contrary to every principle of juſtice, and to every idea of repreſentation, and by blockading the port of Boſton, reduced near thirty thouſand people, in eaſy circumſtances, to a ſtate of dependence upon the charity and benevolence of their fellow ſubjects; and now, rare condeſcenſion, ſuſpenſion, of the ſeveral American acts, or in other words miniſterial oppreſſion and villany is to be granted them, provided they will raiſe a revenue in America, ſtill ſubject to the controul of the king and Parliament in England: This ſuſpenſion ſcheme, my Lord, will not do, the Americans will have a repeal of all the acts they complain of, and a full reſtoration of all their charters, rights, liberties, and privileges, before they grant you a ſingle farthing, and then not ſubject to the controul of a banditti of rotten members in St. Stephen's chapel, of your appointing, for where would be the difference between their taxing themſelves, ſubject to the controul, and at the diſpoſal of the King and Parliament here, or of the Houſe of Commons in England taxing them in the firſt inſtance, there would be none, my Lord, and they would ſtill be in the ſame ſituation they are now; ſtill ſubject to the will of the King, and the corrupt influence of the crown; this ſcheme, my Lord, appears to me as ridiculous and abſurd, as the negative ſtill veſted in the court of Aldermen of the city of London, which gives a power to a majority of twenty-ſix to ſet aſide the choice of ſeven thouſand Liverymen, in the election of their Mayors. Be aſſured, my Lord, this new plan muſt fall to the ground, with all your former ones in this buſineſs; the day of trial is at hand, the Americans will be firm, they will have a confirmation of all their rights; they will have a redreſs of all their grievances; they will levy their own taxes, not ſubject to any controuling power; and they will fix the conſtitutional liberties of America, upon a foundation not be again ſhaken by you, nor any puſillanimous, weak, wicked, or cruel tyrant.

It is unnatural; but for a moment, my Lord, ſuppoſe the Americans ſhould come into your propoſals, or agree with the terms of your motion; how, my Lord, can you make reparation for the injuries England and America have ſuſtained, or will it in any degree leſſen your villany, or atone for your crimes; what compenſation can you make for the loſs of our trade, to the amount of near three millions? What compenſation can you make for robbing the nation of near one million and a half of money, to carry on your execrable deſigns againſt your fellow ſubjects in America? You can make none: Your head indeed would be a pleaſing ſpectacle upon Temple-Bar, but the loſs of that, and your eſtates, would never atone for a ten thouſandth part of your crimes and villany, ſtill it is to be hoped the minority in the Houſe of Commons, and the people will never leave you, till they have both made you a public example, and brought you to condign puniſhment.

Every meaſure, my Lord, of your adminiſtration at home has been cruel, arbitrary, and unconſtitutional; and every meaſure, with reſpect to foreign affairs, has been weak, cowardly, abſurd and rediculous; unbecoming an Engliſh miniſter, and only calculated to deſtroy the honor and inteteſt of this kingdom.

The glory and dignity of the Britiſh nation, was never ſo infamouſly ſacrificed both by you and the King, as in the year 1770, by a ſcandalous ſecret convention with Spain, concerning Faulkland's Iſlands.

With reſpect to domeſtic affairs, you have endeavoured to erect the Sovereign into a deſpotic tyrant; you have made him trample under foot, all laws human and divine; you have made him deſtroy the rights and liberties of the people in every part of the Britiſh empire. You have made it apparently his intereſt to promote diviſions at home; you have obliged him to quit the glorious title of father of his people, and debaſe himſelf into the head of a party, whom he has inveſted with an abſolute dominion over him, and whilſt he monarchs it in its own cloſet, becomes contemptible in the eyes of his ſubjects, and the whole world; weak, timid, and irreſolute, he deeply engages in all your Lordſhip's infamous meaſures, and the reſt of his miniſters; and it is for this reaſon we ſee every act of miniſterial villany and murder ſanctified by royal authority.

A parody, for your Lordſhip's peruſal, on the 3d ſcene of the 5th act of Richard the 3d. Enter NORTH from his bed.

'Tis now the dead of night, and half the world is in a lonely, ſolemn darkneſs hung; yet I (ſo coy a dame is ſleep to me) with all the weary courtſhip of my care tired thoughts, can't win her to my arms; tho' even the ſtars do wink, as 'twere with over-watching.—I'll to my bed, and once more try to ſleep her into morning. Lies down, a groan is heard.

Ha! What means that diſmal voice? Sure 'tis the echo of ſome yawning grave, that teems with an untimely ghoſt. 'Tis gone! 'Twas but my fancy, which ever and anon, of late, conjures the people's murmurs to my ear. No matter what, I feel my eyes grow heavy.

[Sleeps. Enter the ghoſt of Britannia. Brit.

Oh! thou whoſe unrelenting thoughts not all the hideous terrors of thy guilt can ſhake, whoſe conſcience, with thy body, ever ſleeps.— Sleep on, while I, by heaven's high ordinance, in dreams of horror wake thy frightful ſoul; now give thy thoughts to me; let them behold thoſe gaping wounds, which thy death-dealing hand, from time to time, gave my anointed body; now ſhall thy own devouring conſcience gnaw thy heart, and terribly revenge my murder.

Enter the ghoſts of thoſe barbarouſly murdered at Brentford, Boſton, and in St. George's Fields, in the merciful reign of the preſent King. Ghoſts.

North, dream on, and let the wand'ring ſpirits of thy butchered fellow ſubjects grate thine ear! Could not the cauſe wherein we were embarked, the common, open birthright of a Briton, perſuade thy cruel heart to ſpare our lives? Oh! 'Twas a cruel deed! Therefore alone, unpitying, unpitied, ſhalt thou fall.

Enter the ghoſt of the late Lord Chancellor. Lord Chancellor.

Could not the various wrongs thou did'ſt thy country's weal in Camden, Granby, Wilkes, and many more, glut thy relentleſs ſouls? But thou and Grafton muſt aim thy dagger at my life. Yes at my life, unfeeling man, for could'ſt thou think that after quitting every claim to honor, truth, or right, I'd longer bare my hated load of infamy, O no, the grave could only ſave me from myſelf! Wake then in all the hells of guilt, and let that wild deſpair, which now does pray upon thy ſtrangled thoughts, be to the world a terrible example!

(Ghoſts vaniſh. North.

Spare me my life! I do repent—Your wrongs ſhall be redreſſed. Ah, ſoft—'Twas but a dream, but then ſo terrible, it ſhakes my ſoul. Cold drops of ſweat hang on my trembling fleſh; my blood grows chilly, and I freeze with horror: O, tyrant conſcience, how doſt thou afflict me! Fain would I reaſſume my walk, was it not terrible retreating! Who is there?

Enter MUNGO, alias Jeremiah Dyſon. Mungo.

'Tis I my Lord, the morn is far advanced, and all your friends are up, preparing for the Houſe.

North.

O, Mungo, I have had ſuch horrid dreams!

Mungo.

Shadows! My Lord, below the ſtateſman's heeding.

North.

Now by my every hope, ſhadows tonight have ſtruck more terror to the ſoul of North, than could the whole of ten minorities, armed all in proof, and led by noiſy Chatham.

Mungo.

Be more yourſelf, my Lord; conſider, where it but known a dream had frightened you, how would your animated foes preſume on it.

North.

Periſh that thought! No, never be it ſaid that fate itſelf could awe the ſoul of North.

Hence babling dreams, you threaten here in vain, Conſcience avaunt, North is himſelf again! With this Producing the key of the treaſury. , and with my gracious ſovereign's ear, I'll act determined—free from ev'ry fear. [To be continued.]

(Price TWO PENNIES.)