"It is impossible," said Franklin. "No chance is offered us to judge the propriety of the measure or our ability to pay. These grants are demanded under a claimed right to tax us at pleasure and compel payments by armed force. Your Lordship, it is like the proposition of a highwayman who presents a pistol at the window of your coach and demands enough to satisfy his greed--no specific sum being named--or there is the pistol."
"You are a most remarkable man, but you do not understand the government," said His Lordship. "You will not let yourself see the other side of the proposition. You are highly esteemed in America and if you could but see the justice of our claim you would be as highly esteemed here and honored and rewarded far beyond any expectation you are likely to have."
"If any one supposes that I could prevail upon my countrymen to take black for white or wrong for right, he does not know them or me," said Franklin. "My people are incapable of being so imposed upon and I am incapable of attempting it."
Next evening came the good Doctor Barclay, a friend of Franklin, and a noted philanthropist. They played chess together, and after the game, while they were draining glasses of Madeira, the philanthropist said:
"Here's to peace and good will between England and her colonies. The prosperity of both depends upon it."
They drank the toast and then Barclay proposed:
"Let us use our efforts to that end. Power is a great thing to have and the noblest gift a government can bestow is within your reach."
"Barclay, this is what I would call spitting in the soup," said Franklin. "It's excellent soup, too. I am sure the ministry would rather give me a seat in a cart to Tyburn than any other place whatever. I would despise myself if I needed an inducement to serve a great cause."
The philanthropist entered upon a wearisome argument, which lasted for nearly an hour.
"Barclay, your opinions on this problem remind me of the iron money of Lycurgus," observed Franklin.