ures which the administration are most violently pursuing are opposed to every principle of natural justice." He was certain that it was neither the wish nor the interest of any government on the continent, separately or collectively, to set up independence; but he rejected indignantly the claim of parliament, and saw no "reason to expect anything from their justice." "The crisis," he said, "is arrived when we must assert our rights, or submit to every imposition that can be heaped upon us, till custom and use shall make us tame and abject slaves." From the first, he was convinced that there was not "anything to be expected from petitioning." "Ought we not, then," he exclaimed, "to put our virtue and fortitude to the severest test?" Thus Washington reasoned with his friends. In the convention, Richard Henry Lee and Patrick Henry were heard with such delight that the one was compared to Cicero, the other to Demosthenes. But Washington, who never was able to see distress without a desire to assuage it, made the most effective speech when he uttered the wish to "raise one thousand men, subsist them at his own expense, and march at their head for the relief of Boston."

Through the press, the great lawyer Thomson Mason denied the right of a British parliament to make laws for the colonies, and specially held up the laws of navigation "as a badge of slavery, never to be submitted to." The wrongs done to Boston seemed to him "little less than a declaration of war.' "In order to make the repelling of illegal force one general act of all America, let each colony," said he, "send a quota of men to perform this service, and let the respective quotas be settled in the general congress. These measures will be the most moderate, the most constitutional, and the most effectual you can pursue. I do not wish to survive the liberty of my country one single moment, and am determined to risk my all in supporting it."

The resolves and instructions of Virginia claimed that the restrictions on navigation should be restrained. Especially were they incensed at the threat of Gage to use the deadly weapon of constructive treason against such inhabitants of Massachusetts, as should assemble to consider of their grievances, and form associations for their common conduct; and

they voted that "the attempt to execute this illegal and odious proclamation would justify resistance and reprisal."

The first provincial congress of North Carolina met in August, at Newbern, under the eye and in defiance of its governor. In their comprehensive resolutions the rights of America were clearly stated and absolutely claimed; a convention of a county in Massachusetts could not have better enumerated the acts of that province which they approved. If grievances were not redressed, they were ready to cease all importations and all exportations even of the staples on which their prosperity depended. They heartily approved the meeting of a continental congress; and electing Hooper, Hughes, and Caswell as their deputies, they invested them with the amplest powers.

After their adjournment, James Iredell, of Edenton, a British official, addressed through the press the inhabitants of Great Britain, as constituting the greatest state on earth because it was the most free; and as able to preserve the connection with America only by delighting in seeing their friends as free and happy as themselves.

CHAPTER III.

MASSACHUSETTS DEFEATS THE ATTEMPT OF THE BRITISH PARLIAMENT TO CHANGE ITS CHARTER.

MAY-AUGUST 1774.

THE Colonies needed for their support against Britain the alliance of France, but Louis XV., in the last years of his life, courted the friendship of George III., not to efface the false notion of international enmity which was a brand on the civilization of that age, but to gain new support for monarchical power. On the tenth day of May he died, and Louis XVI., the "desired one" of the people, while not yet twenty years old, suddenly became king. The city of Paris was delirious with joy at his accession. "It is our paramount wish to make our people happy," was the language of the first edict of the new absolute prince. "He excels in writing prose," said Voltaire, on reading the words of promise; "he seems inspired by Marcus Aurelius; he desires what is good and does it. Happy they who, like him, are but twenty years old, and will long enjoy the sweets of his reign."

The young monarch, when heir to the throne of France, had not been admitted to the royal council, and had grown up ignorant of business. In manner he was awkward and embarrassed, and even at his own court ill at ease. He had neither military science, nor martial spirit, nor gallant bearing; and a warlike nation interpreted his torpid languor as a want of courage. His sphere of vision was narrow, and he applied himself chiefly to details or matters of little importance. His turn of mind was serious, yet his countenance betrayed

irresolution, foreboding an unsteadiness in the administration springing from his own character, and making his life a long equipoise between right intentions and executive feebleness. He believed, like his predecessor, that the king alone should reign; yet his state papers were soon to cite reverently the law of nature and the rights of man; and the will of the people was to walk its rounds in the palace, invisible yet supreme.

Marie Antoinette, the new queen, in the splendor of supreme rank, preserved the gay cheerfulness of youth. Soon after her arrival in France her mother wrote to her: "God has crowned you with so much grace and sweetness and docility that all the world must love you." She was conscious of being lovely, and was willing to be admired; but she knew how to temper graceful condescension with august severity. Impatient of stately etiquette, which controlled her choice of companions even more than the disposition of her hours, she was ready to break away from wearisome formalities with eager vivacity. From the same quickness of nature she readily took part in any prevailing public excitement, regardless of reasons of state.

Caron de Beaumarchais, the sparkling dramatist and restless plebeian adventurer, made haste to recommend to the royal patronage his genius for intrigue. "Is there," said he through Sartine, then the head of the police," anything which the king wishes to know alone and at once, anything which he wishes done quickly and secretly, here am I, who have at his service a head, a heart, arms, and no tongue."

The sovereign of Spain, on wishing his kinsman joy of his accession, reminded him, as the head of the Bourbons, of their double relationship by his mother's side, as well as his father's, and expressed the wish for "their closest union and most perfect harmony;" for, said he, "the family compact is the guarantee of the prosperity and glory of our house."

The "London Court Gazette" announced Louis XVI. as "king of France," though English official language heretofore, and the herald's office still knew no other king of France than the king of Great Britain.

At the same time, the British ministers, always jealous of the Bourbons, kept spies to guess at the secrets of the French ministers, and bribe workmen in their navy-yards for a report

of every keel that was laid, of every new armament or reenforcement of the usual fleets; and, from apprehensions of interference which could not be lulled to sleep, they were impelled to force the American struggle to an immediate issue.

The continuance of the cordial understanding between Britain and France would depend upon the persons in whom the young king should place his confidence. Conforming to the public wish, he began by dismissing the ministers of his predecessor, and then felt the need of a guide. Marie Antoinette would have recalled Choiseul, the supporter of an intimate friendship between France and Austria, the passionate adversary of England, the prophet and the favorer of American independence; but filial respect restrained the king, for Choiseul had been at variance with his father. He turned to his aunts for advice; and their choice fell on the Count de Maurepas from their regard for his experience, general good character, and independence of the parties at court.

Not descended from the old nobility, Maurepas belonged to a family which, within a hundred and fifty years, had furnished nine secretaries of state. He came into office in the last days of Louis XIV. Under the successor of that monarch he made it his glory to restore the navy of his country, and had the repute of hating England. Foreign envoys at Paris foretold for France a great part if he ever should be intrusted with the government. At the age of seventy-three, and after an exile from the court of twenty-five years, he was still, as he had been in youth, polite, selfish, jealous, and superficial. Despising gravity of manner and airs of mystery, and incapable of serious passion or profound reflection, he charmed by the courtesy and ease of his conversation, enjoying the present moment, careless of the future which he was not to share, and taking all things so easily that age did not wear him out. Full of petty artifice in attack, of sly dexterity in defence, he could put aside weighty objections by mirth, and laugh even at merit, having no faith in virtues that were difficult. With all the patronage of France in his gift, he took from the treasury only enough to meet his increased expenses, keeping house with well-ordered simplicity, and at his death leaving neither debts nor savings. Present tranquillity was his object, rather