his province of New York had voluntarily returned to a just sense of their duty, and had thereby given an unquestionable proof of their duty to His Majesty, and of their obedience to the Parliament of Great Britain.
"Whilst I transmit this Act, it is with real pleasure I consider that the prudent conduct of the Assembly has already rendered the provisions contained in it unnecessary, and I entertain no doubt but that the same just spirit of subordination and constitutional obedience to that supreme Legislature, which has on all occasions discovered the clearest intentions of restraining its own power within the limits of equity and justice, will render New York equally worthy with the rest of His Majesty's provinces of His Majesty's favour and protection, and of those singular privileges which they enjoy under the blessings of his reign, and under the influence of the British constitution."[1]
While this question was thus happily settled the plots and counterplots of the Whig factions busily continued.
"It is a weary and unprofitable task," says Hallam speaking of the feuds of the Merwings, "to follow changes in detail, in which the eye meets with no sunshine nor can rest on any interesting spot." The remark might be equally applied to the suicidal struggles of the Whigs in 1767, who were apparently unconscious that more important issues were at stake than the triumph of the house of Woburn over the house of Wentworth, or of both over the house of Hanover. At home the King watched their struggles with satisfaction mingled with apprehension that they might yet be too strong for him; abroad Choiseul prayed that " the anarchy in England might last for ever."[2] Grimaldi saw in the divisions of English parties the equivalent of the domestic troubles caused in Spain by the expulsion of the Jesuits and the reforms of Squillaci, one of the ablest of the remarkable school of foreign statesmen who illustrated the reign of Charles III. So little fear had he now of any active foreign policy on the
