"Eripuit cœlo fulmen, mox sceptra tyrannis."
But Sparks and Mignet, in their biographies,[16] and so also both the biographical dictionaries of France,—that of Michaud and that of Didot,—while ascribing the verse to Turgot, concur in the form already quoted from Turgot's Works, which was likewise adopted by Ginguené, the scholar who has done so much to illustrate Italian literature, on the title-page of his "Science du Bon-Homme Richard," with an abridged Life of Franklin, in 1794, and by Cabanis, who lived in such intimacy with Franklin.[17] It cannot be doubted that it was the final form which this verse assumed,—as it is unquestionably the best.
To appreciate the importance of this verse, as marking and helping a great epoch, there are certain dates which must not be forgotten. Franklin reached Paris on his mission towards the close of 1776. He had already signed the Declaration of Independence, and his present duty was to obtain the recognition of France for the new power. The very clever Madame Du Deffant, in her amusing correspondence with Horace Walpole, describes him in a visit to her "with his fur cap on his head and his spectacles on his nose," in the same small circle with Madame de Luxembourg, a great lady of the time, and the Duke de Choiseul, late Prime-Minister. This was on the thirty-first of December, 1776.[18] A pretty good beginning. More than a year of effort and anxiety ensued, brightened at last by the news that Burgoyne had surrendered at Saratoga. On the sixth of February, 1778, the work of the American Plenipotentiary was crowned by the signature of the two Treaties of Alliance and Commerce by which France acknowledged our Independence and pledged her belligerent support. On the fifteenth of March, one of these treaties, with a diplomatic note announcing that the Colonies were free and independent States, was communicated to the British Government, at London, which was promptly encountered by a declaration of war from Great Britain. On the twenty-second of March, Franklin was received by the King at Versailles, and this remarkable scene is described by the same feminine pen to which we are indebted for the early glimpse of him on his arrival in Paris.[19] But throughout this intervening period he had not lived unknown. Indeed, he had become at once a celebrity. Lacretelle, the eminent French historian, says, "By the effect which Franklin produced, he appears to have fulfilled his mission, not with a court, but with a free people. His virtues and renown negotiated for him."[20]
Condorcet, who was a part of that intellectual society which welcomed the new Plenipotentiary, has left a record of his reception. "The celebrity of Franklin in the sciences," he says, "gave him the friendship of all who love or cultivate them, that is, of all who exert a real and durable influence upon public opinion. At his arrival he became an object of veneration to all enlightened men, and of curiosity to others. He submitted to this curiosity with the natural facility of his character, and with the conviction that in this way he served the cause of his country. It was an honor to have seen him. People repeated what they had heard him say. Every fête which he consented to receive, every house where he consented to go, spread in society new admirers, who became so many partisans of the American Revolution.... Men whom the works of philosophy had disposed secretly to the love of liberty were impassioned for that of a strange people. A general cry was soon raised in favor of the American War, and the friends of peace dared not even complain that peace was sacrificed to the cause of liberty."[21] This is an animated picture by an eye-witness. But all authorities concur in its truthfulness. Even Capefigue—whose business is to belittle all that is truly great, and especially to efface those names which are associated with human liberty, while, like another Old Mortality, he furbishes the tombstones of royal mistresses—is yet constrained to bear witness to the popularity and influence which Franklin achieved. The critic dwells on what he styles his "Quaker garb," "his linen so white under clothes so brown," and also the elaborate art of the philosopher, who understood France and knew well "that a popular man became soon more powerful than power itself"; but he cannot deny that the philosopher "fulfilled his duties with great superiority," or that he became at once famous.[22]
The arrival of Franklin was followed very soon by the departure of the youthful Lafayette, who crossed the sea to offer his generous sword to the service of American liberty. Our cause was now widely known. In the thronged cafés and the places of public resort it was discussed with sympathy and admiration.[23] And so completely was Franklin recognized as the representative of new ideas, that the Emperor Joseph II. of Austria,—professed reformer as he was,—on one of his visits to France under the travelling-name of Count Falkenstein, is reported to have firmly avoided all temptation to see him, saying, "My business is to be a Royalist,"—thus doing homage to the real character of Franklin, in whom the Republic was personified.
Franklin was at once, by natural attraction, the welcome guest of that brilliant company of philosophers who exercised such influence over the eighteenth century. The "Encyclopédie" was their work, and they were masters at the Academy. He was received into their guild. At the famous table of the Baron D'Holbach, where twice a week, Sunday and Thursday, at dinner, lasting from two till seven o'clock, the wits of that time were gathered, he found a hospitable chair. But he was most at home with Madame Helvétius, the widow of the rich and handsome philosopher, whose name, derived from Holland, is now almost unknown. At her house he met in social familiarity D'Alembert, Diderot, D'Holbach, Morellet, Cabanis, and Condorcet, with their compeers. There, also, was Turgot, the greatest of all. There was another person in some respects as famous as any of these, but leading a very different life, whom Franklin saw often,—I refer to Caron de Beaumarchais, the author already of the "Barbier de Séville," as he was afterwards of the "Mariage de Figaro," who, turning aside from an unsurpassed success at the theatre, exerted his peculiar genius to enlist the French Government on the side of the struggling Colonies, predicted their triumph, and at last, under the assumed name of a mercantile house, became the agent of the Comte de Vergennes in furnishing clandestine supplies of arms even before the recognition of Independence. It is supposed that through this popular dramatist Franklin maintained communications with the French Government until the mask was thrown aside.[24]
Beyond all doubt, Turgot is one of the most remarkable intelligences which France has produced. He was by nature a philosopher and a reformer, but he was also a statesman, who for a time held a seat in the cabinet of Louis XVI., first as Minister of the Marine, and then as Comptroller of the Finances. Perhaps no minister ever studied more completely the good of the people. His administration was one constant benefaction. But he was too good for the age in which he lived,—or rather, the age was not good enough for him. The King was induced to part with him, saying, when he yielded,—"You and I are the only two persons who really love the people." This was some time in May, 1776; so that Franklin, on his arrival, found this eminent Frenchman free from all the constraints of a ministerial position. The character of Turgot shows how naturally he sympathized with the Colonies struggling for independence, especially when represented by a person like Franklin. In a prize essay of his youth, written in 1750, when he was only twenty-three years of age, he had foretold the American Revolution. These are his remarkable words on that occasion:—
"Colonies are like fruits, which do not hold to the tree after their maturity. Having become sufficient in themselves, they do that which Carthage did, that which America will one day do."[25]
One of his last acts before leaving the Ministry was to prepare a memoir on the American War, for the information of the Comte de Vergennes, in which he says "that the idea of the absolute separation of the Colonies and the mother-country seems infinitely probable; that, when the independence of the Colonies shall be entire and acknowledged by the English, there will be a total revolution in the political and commercial relations of Europe and America; and that all the mother-countries will be forced to abandon all empire over their colonies, to leave them entire liberty of commerce with all nations, and to be content in sharing with others this liberty, and in preserving with their colonies the bonds of amity and fraternity."[26] This memoir of the French statesman bears date the sixth of April, 1776, nearly three months before the Declaration of Independence.
On leaving the Ministry, Turgot devoted himself to literature, science, and charity, translating Odes of Horace and Eclogues of Virgil, studying geometry with Bossut, chemistry with Lavoisier, and astronomy with Rochon, and interesting himself in every thing by which human welfare could be advanced. Such a character, with such an experience of government, and the prophet of American independence, was naturally prepared to welcome Franklin, not only as philosopher, but as statesman also.