CHAPTER XXXI

BEGINNINGS OF THE REPUBLIC

WE have already seen how this independent spirit flamed up again in 1764 and 1765, when Nathaniel Bacons all over Virginia left their farms to maintain their rights. We have heard the orator talk and seen the soldier arm. We have learned that in all the colonies the feeling was practically the same, and that nothing was needed but leadership and organization to weld separate committees into a confederation.

We have seen the younger Virginians holding their private meetings, apart from the more conservative members of the Legislature; we have seen them agree upon the Committee of Correspondence, whose mission it will be to knit the threads of continental union.

Whose brain originated the plan? Some claim it for Richard Henry Lee, some for Samuel Adams, some for Jefferson. It is Dabney Carr who came forward to proclaim it, and to advocate it so convincingly that no opposition is heard.

We have seen the first Congress meet and separate, having done little more than establish the

vital fact that the Continental Congress was something more than a suggestion. It was a reality.

Other Congresses follow, and we see the beginnings of nationality. We stand at the head waters. We gaze down, down into the little parent streams with profound interest. With what artful management the colonies are kept in line, taught to keep step! With what diplomacy the front ranks are made to go slow till lagging patriots can be brought up! How careful the extremists are not to frighten the conservatives! Notice that the fiction of “your Majesty's loyal subjects" is maintained to the very last moment, and that the magic word Independence does not slip the muzzle until all the colonists are in line of battle, with George Washington in command.

Then note the earnest reaching out for supports, for outside help. See the anxiety to protect the Western flank from hostile Indians. Nobody's aid is scorned in those days. Every savage has his value. No man is tested as to his religion if he be ready to serve the cause. Baptists can preach now. Quakers are human beings now.

The Indians come to a conference at Easton, Pa. Congress selects a commission to treat with them, and Tom Paine is secretary. They carry a thousand dollars' worth of presents along, to be put where they will do the most good. The conference is held in the German Reformed church.

There is an organ in this church, which is one advantage. We will soothe the savage ear with music. If the rural organ, primitively played, does not reduce the red man to a pliable state of mind, something else must be tried. Rum! So our congressional committee brings along a supply of New England rum. Few are the Indians who can resist this New England beverage.

The organ sounds, the rum barrel is broachedwe will now shake hands, and all take a drink, while the organist plays something appropriate. The of ficial report states that "after shaking hands, drinking rum, while the organ played, we proceeded to business." Wise in their generation were our forefathers!

We have already seen how Congress first denounced Great Britain for surrendering Canada to the Catholics, and then sent influential Catholics to enlist Canada against Great Britain. In vain Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, and the Rev. John Carroll explain and negotiate. The language Congress had used against the Catholic Church was too strong and too recent; the timely concessions England had made to the Church were too valuable; Canadian Catholics decided to let well enough alone. No help could be had from the North. But in another part of the sky there was a rift in the cloud. France, though bound to England by solemn treaty, was smarting from the wounds Great

Britain had given her, and hungered for revenge— yet was afraid to strike.

As accomplices in a criminal enterprise did France and the United States first begin to come together.

We have already had a glimpse of the "elderly lame man" having the "appearance of an old wounded French officer" who mysteriously hung around Philadelphia in November, 1775, dropping vague hints and dim notifications that he had come in behalf of the King of France.

Confronted by a committee, and urged to say something one could do business on, the elderly lame man drew his finger across his throat eloquently, and said:

"Gentlemen, I shall take care of my head."

This was De Bonvouloir, a very respectable scion of the French nobility. He had come at the instance of his Government, yet so violative of treaty was it for him to be there, that he knew full well that his King would repudiate him if things went wrong, and that his poor old head might pay the forfeit which would, in that event, appease the just wrath of Great Britain.

Writing home about his conferences with members of the Continental Congress, Bonvouloir states:

"Each comes to the place indicated in the dark, by different roads."