His chief demand was for a less ambiguous relation between the mother and her offspring, for a unified, pacific commonwealth empire. Until he left for the colonies in 1775, he tirelessly sought through conversation, conference, and articles[i-308] sent to the British press (in addition he "reprinted everything from America" that he "thought might help our Common Cause") to reiterate patiently the colonies' "Charter liberties,"[i-309] their abhorrence of Parliament-imposed internal taxes, and the quartering of red-coated battalions. Constantly hoping for a favorable Ministry (of a Lord Rockingham or a Shelburne), and bemoaning the physical infirmities of Pitt which rendered him politically impotent, Franklin felt almost romantically confident at first of a change that must come. All the while, like Merlin's gleam, visions of a world-encircling British empire haunted the Pennsylvania tradesman. A letter to Barbeu Dubourg discloses at once his belief in an imperial federation[i-310] and in the sovereignty of the colonial assemblies: "In fact, the British empire is not a single state; it comprehends many; and, though the Parliament of Great Britain has arrogated to itself the power of taxing the colonies, it has no more right to do so, than it has to tax Hanover. We have the same King, but not the same legislatures."[i-311] Marginalia by Franklin's hand in an anti-colonial pamphlet written by Dean Tucker indicate how completely he (and here he represented colonial, not private, opinion) had failed to see the growth of parliamentary power: "These Writers against the Colonies all bewilder themselves by supposing the Colonies _within the Realm_, which is not the case, nor ever was."[i-312] By 1774 Franklin had discovered the futility of his imperialistic illusions: ministries, fearing the siren colonies, had blocked their ears with wax. The Pennsylvanian knew that "Divine Providence first infatuates the power it designs to ruin."[i-313] He who had wished for an empire as harmoniously companied as the orbited harmony of celestial bodies lamented while on his way to America in 1775 that "so glorious a Fabric as the present British Empire [was] to be demolished by these Blunderers."[i-314] Broken was "that fine and noble China Vase, the British Empire."[i-315] In 1774 he would have gained little cheer from William Livingston's opinion (uttered in 1768): "I take it that clamour is at present our best policy."[i-316]