began to give evident tokens of discontent. It was clear that
England must consent to peace. And yet she still stood bravely up,
presenting a bold front to each new enemy: a grand spectacle in one
light, for there is always something grand in indomitable courage; but a
sad one in the true light, and one from which a hundred years hence the
philosophic historian will turn with a shudder, when, summing up all
these events, and asking what all this blood was shed for, he shows that
the only principle at stake on her part was that pernicious claim to
control the industry of the world, which, had she succeeded, would have
dried up the sources of prosperity in America, as it is fast drying them
up in Ireland and in India.[E]

Nor was peace less necessary to her rival. The social revolution which
the two last reigns had rendered inevitable was moving with gigantic
strides towards its bloody consummation. The last well-founded hope of
reforms that should probe deep enough to anticipate revolution had
disappeared with Turgot. The statesmanship of Vergennes had no remedy
for social disease. It was a statesmanship of alliances and treaties and
wars, traditional and sometimes brilliant, but all on the surface,
leaving the wounded heart untouched, the sore spirit unconsoled. The
financial skill of Necker could not reach the evil. It was mere banking
skill, and nothing more,--very respectable in its time and place,
filling a few mouths more with bread, but failing to see, although told
of it long ago by one who never erred, that "man does not live by bread
alone." The finances were in hopeless disorder. The resources of the
country were almost exhausted. Public faith had been strained to the
utmost. National forbearance had been put to humiliating tests under the
last reign by the partition of Poland and the Peace of Kainardji; and
the sense of self-respect had not been fully restored by the American
War. And although no one yet dreamed of what seven swift years were to
bring forth, all minds were agitated by a mysterious consciousness of
the approaching tempest.

In 1782 the overtures of England began to assume a more definite form.
Franklin saw that the time for decisive action was at hand, and prepared
himself for it with his wonted calm and deliberate appreciation of
circumstances. That France was sincere he could not doubt, after all the
proofs she had given of her sincerity; nor could he doubt that she would
concur heartily i