The wise Turgot, in a state paper marked by great ability, opposed French intervention, and proved his case. Colonial independence was sure to come, a little sooner or later. Yet the reduction of the colonies would be the best possible assurance that England would not break the peace with France, since the colonists, being mutinous and discontented, would give her concern enough. On the other hand, should England fail, as he anticipated that she would, in this war, she would hardly emerge from it in condition to undertake another with France. As for the colonies themselves, should they win, the character of the Americans gave augury of their wishing a solid government and therefore cultivating peace. He uttered an admirable dissertation upon the relations between colonies and a parent country, and upon the value of colonies in its bearing upon the present question. In conclusion he gravely referred to the alarming deficit in the French exchequer as the strongest of all arguments against incurring the heavy charge of a war not absolutely unavoidable. "For a necessary war resources could be found; but war ought to be shunned as the greatest of misfortunes, since it would render impossible, perhaps forever, a reform absolutely necessary to the prosperity of the state and the solace of the people." The king, to whom these wise words were addressed, lived to receive terrible proof of their truth.
This good advice fell in well with the bent of Louis's mind. For, though no statesman, he had in this matter a sound instinct that an absolute monarch aiding rebels to erect a free republic was an anomaly, and a hazardous contradiction in the natural order of things. But de Vergennes was the coming man in France, and Turgot no longer had the influence or the popularity to which his ability entitled him. In May, 1776, on an ill day for the French monarchy, but a fair one for the American provinces, this able statesman was ousted from the cabinet. De Vergennes remained to wield entire control of the policy of the kingdom in this business, and his triumph was the great good fortune of the colonies. Yet his design was sufficiently cautious, and strictly limited to the advantage of his own country. France was not to be compromised, and an ingenious scheme was arranged.
The firm of Roderigue Hortalez & Co. made sudden appearance in Paris. Beaumarchais alone conducted its affairs, the most extraordinary merchant surely who ever engaged in extensive commerce! The capital was secretly furnished by the Spanish and French governments; about $400,000 the firm had to start with, and later the French government contributed $200,000 more. De Vergennes was explicit in his language to Beaumarchais: to Englishmen and Americans alike the affair must be an "individual speculation." With the capital given him Beaumarchais must "found a great commercial establishment," and "at his own risk and peril" sell to the colonies military supplies. These would be sold to him from the French arsenals; but he "must pay for them." From the colonies he must "ask return in their staple products." Except that his silent partners might be lenient in demanding repayment Beaumarchais really was to be a merchant, engaged in an exceptionally hazardous trade. If he regarded himself in any other light he was soon painfully undeceived; for de Vergennes was in earnest. But for the immediate present, upon the moment when he had arranged these preliminaries, doubtless fancying the government at his back, this most energetic of men plunged into his work with all the ardor of his excitable nature. He flew hither and thither; got arms and munitions from the government; bought and loaded ships, and was soon conducting an enormous business.
But it was by no means all smooth sailing for the vessels of Hortalez & Co.; for Deane arrived, not altogether opportunely, just as Beaumarchais was getting well under weigh. The two were soon brought together, and Deane was told all that was going on, save only the original connection of the French government, which it seems that he never knew. He in turn told all to Dr. Bancroft, and so unwittingly to the English government. Thereupon the watchful English cruisers effectually locked up the ships of Hortalez in the French harbors. Also Lord Stormont, the English ambassador, harassed the French government with ceaseless representations and complaints concerning these betrayed shipments of contraband cargoes. At the same time the news from America, coming chiefly through English channels, took on a very gloomy coloring, and lent a certain emphasis to these protests of the English minister. De Vergennes felt compelled to play out his neutral part even more in earnest than had been intended. He sent to the ports at which Hortalez & Co. had ships very stringent instructions to check unlawful trade, and the officials obeyed in good faith to the letter. Beaumarchais was seriously embarrassed at finding himself bearing in fact the mercantile character which he had supposed that he was only dramatically assuming. He had to load his cargoes and clear his ships as best he could, precisely like any ordinary dealer in contraband wares; there was no favoritism, no winking at his breaches of the law. The result was that it was a long while before he got any arms, ammunition, and clothing into an American port. Moreover, the ships from America which were to have brought him payment in the shape of tobacco and other American commodities failed to arrive; his royal copartners declined to make further advances; the ready money was gone, credit had been strained to the breaking point, and a real bankruptcy impended over the sham firm. Thus in the autumn and early winter of 1776 prospects in France wore no cheerful aspect for the colonies. It was at this juncture that Franklin arrived, and he came like a reviving breeze from the sea.
Long and anxiously did Congress wait to get news from France; not many trustworthy ships were sent on so perilous a voyage, and of those that ventured it only a few got across an ocean "porcupined" with English warships. At last in September, 1776, Franklin received from Dr. Dubourg of Paris, a gentleman with whom his friendship dated back to his French trip in 1767, a long and cheering letter full of gratifying intelligence concerning the disposition of the court, and throwing out a number of such suggestions that the mere reading them was a stimulus to action. Congress was not backward to respond; it resolved at once to send a formal embassage. Franklin was chosen unanimously by the first ballot. "I am old and good for nothing," he whispered to Dr. Rush, "but, as the storekeepers say of their remnants of cloth, 'I am but a fag end and you may have me for what you please.'"[39] Thomas Jefferson and Deane were elected as colleagues; but Jefferson declined the service and Arthur Lee was put in his stead. The Reprisal, sloop of war, of sixteen guns, took Dr. Franklin and his grandson on board for the dangerous voyage. It was a very different risk from that which Messrs. Slidell and Mason took nearly a century later. They embarked on a British mail steamship, and were subject, as was proved, only to the ordinary perils of navigation. But had Franklin been caught in this little rebel craft, which had actually been captured from English owners and condemned as prize by rebel tribunals, and which now added the aggravating circumstance that she carried an armament sufficient to destroy a merchantman but not to encounter a frigate, he would have had before him at best a long imprisonment, at worst a trial for high treason and a halter. Horace Walpole gave the news that "Dr. Franklin, at the age of seventy-two or seventy-four, and at the risk of his head, had bravely embarked on board an American frigate." Several times he must have contemplated these pleasing prospects, for several times the small sloop was chased by English cruisers; but she was a swift sailer and escaped them all. Just before making port she captured two English brigs and carried them in as prizes.
The reference to Slidell and Mason, by the way, calls to mind the humorous but accurate manner in which Franklin described the difference between revolution and rebellion. Soon after landing from this hazardous voyage he wrote merrily to a lady friend: "You are too early, hussy, as well as too saucy, in calling me a rebel. You should wait for the event, which will determine whether it is a rebellion or only a revolution. Here the ladies are more civil; they call us les insurgens, a character which usually pleases them."
The voyage, though quick, was very rough, and Franklin, confined in a small cabin and "poorly nourished," since much of the meat was too tough for his old teeth, had a hard time of it; so that upon coming on shore he found himself "much fatigued and weakened," indeed, "almost demolished." He therefore rested several days at Nantes before going to Paris, where he arrived just before the close of the year.
The excitement which his arrival in the French capital created was unmistakable evidence of the estimate set by Europe upon his abilities. Some persons in England endeavored to give to his voyage the color of a desertion from a cause of which he despaired. "The arch——, Dr. Franklin, has lately eloped under a cloak of plenipotentiary to Versailles," wrote Sir Grey Cooper. But Edmund Burke refused to believe that the man whom he had seen examined before the privy council was "going to conclude a long life, which has brightened every hour it has continued, with so foul and dishonorable a flight." Lord Rockingham said that the presence of Franklin in Paris much more than offset the victory of the English on Long Island, and their capture of New York. Lord Stormont, it is said, threatened to leave sans prendre congé, if the "chief of the American rebels" were allowed to come to Paris. The adroit de Vergennes replied that the government had already dispatched a courier to direct Franklin to remain at Nantes; but since they knew neither the time of his departure nor his route, the message might not reach him. Should he thus innocently arrive in Paris it would be scandalous, inhospitable, and contrary to the laws of nations to send him away.[40]
But while the English were angry, the French indulged in a furore of welcome. They made feasts and hailed the American as the friend of human kind, as the "ideal of a patriarchal republic and of idyllic simplicity," as a sage of antiquity; and the exuberant classicism of the nation exhausted itself in glorifying him by comparisons with those great names of Greece and Rome which have become symbols for all private and public virtues. They admired him because he did not wear a wig; they lauded his spectacles; they were overcome with enthusiasm as they contemplated his great cap of martin fur, his scrupulously white linen, and the quaint simplicity of his brown Quaker raiment of colonial make. They noted with amazement that his "only defense" was a "walking-stick in his hand." The print-shops were soon full of countless representations of his noble face and venerable figure, set off by all these pleasing adjuncts. The people thronged the streets to see him pass, and respectfully made way for him. He seemed, as John Adams said later, to enjoy a reputation "more universal than that of Leibnitz or Newton, Frederick or Voltaire."
So soon as all this uproar gave him time to look about him, he established himself at Passy, in a part of the Hôtel de Valentinois, which was kindly placed at his disposal by its owner, M. Ray de Chaumont. In this at that time retired suburb he hoped to be able to keep the inevitable but useless interruptions within endurable limits. Not improbably also he was further influenced, in accepting M. Chaumont's hospitality, by a motive of diplomatic prudence. His shrewdness and experience must soon have shown him that his presence in Paris, if not precisely distasteful to the French government, must at least in some degree compromise it, and might by any indiscretion on his part easily be made to annoy and vex the ministers. It therefore behooved him to make himself as little as possible conspicuous in any official or public way. A rebuke, a cold reception, might do serious harm; nor was it politic to bring perplexities to those whose friendship he sought. He could not avoid, nor had he any reason to do so, the social éclat with which he was greeted; but he must shun the ostentation of any relationship with men in office. This would be more easily accomplished by living in a quarter somewhat remote and suburban. His retirement, therefore, while little curtailing his intercourse with private society, evinced his good tact, and doubtless helped his good standing with the ministers. The police record reports that, if he saw them at all, it was secretly and under cover of night. He lived in comfortable style, but not showily, keeping a moderate retinue of servants for appearance as much as for use, and a carriage, which was indispensable to him. John Adams charged him with undue luxury and extravagance, but the accusation was ridiculous.