[The reverend, after describing more the risk of pursuing independence, turns to the decline of the Congress, the poor state of the military, and the perilous condition of the country.]
What then can be the consequence of this rash and violent measure and degeneracy of representation, confusion of councils, blunders without number? The most respectable characters have withdrawn themselves, and are succeeded by a great majority of illiberal and violent men. Take an impartial view of the present Congress, and what can you expect from them? Your feelings must be greatly hurt by the representation of your natural province. You have no longer a Randolph, a Bland, or a Braxton, men whose names will ever be revered, whose demands never ran above the first ground on which they set out, and whose truly glorious and virtuous sentiments I have frequently heard with rapture from their own lips.—Oh! my dear Sir, what a sad contrast of characters now present . . . As to those of my own province, some of them are so obscure, that their very names were never in my ears before, and others have only been distinguished for the weakness of their understandings, and the violence of their tempers . . .
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 of 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 you the least confidence in a set of undisciplined men and officers, many of them have been taken from the lowest of the people, without principle, without courage; take away them who surround your person, How very few are there 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, 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 harbours; and now where are your resources? Oh my dear Sir, How sadly have you been abused by a faction void of truth, and void of tenderness to you and your country! . . . A British army, after having passed unmolested thro a vast extent of country, have possessed themselves of the Capital of America. How unequal the contest! How fruitless the expence of blood? Under so many discouraging circumstances, can Virtue, can Honour, 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; where-ever 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 began; 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 an happy accommodations, 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.
[The reverend then proposes what he sees as the only way out of the country’s dilemma: for the General, as the revered guardian of the country, to urge upon the Congress rescission of the Declaration of Independence accompanied by negotiations and, if this failed, to pursue negotiations as the head of the army. Such action, writes the reverend, would give the General a lustrous place in the annals of our history.]