Chapter 9

“Can you inform me who wrote the line on Franklin,‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis’?“Henry H. Breen.“St. Lucia.”[219]

“Can you inform me who wrote the line on Franklin,

‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis’?

“Henry H. Breen.

“St. Lucia.”[219]

A subsequent writer in this same work, after calling the verse “a parody” of a certain line of Antiquity, says: “I am unable, however, to say who adapted these words to Franklin’s career. Was it Condorcet?”[220]Another writer in the same work says: “The inscription was written by Mirabeau.”[221]

I remember well a social entertainment in Boston, where a distinguished scholar of our country,[222]in reply to an inquiry at the table, said that the verse was founded on a line from the “Astronomicon” of Manilius, which he repeated:—

“Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, viresque tonandi.”[223]

John Quincy Adams, who was present, seemed to concur. Mr. Sparks, in his notes to the correspondence of Franklin, attributes to it the same origin.[224]But there are other places where its origin is traced with more precision. One of the correspondents of “Notes and Queries” says that he has read, but does not remember where, “that this line wasimmediatelytaken from onein the ‘Anti-Lucretius’ of Cardinal Polignac.”[225]Another correspondent shows the intermediate authority.[226]My own notes were made without any knowledge of these studies, which, while fixing its literary origin, fail to exhibit its important character, especially as illustrating an historical epoch.

The verse cannot be found in any ancient writer,—not Claudian or anybody else. It is clear that it does not come from Antiquity, unless indirectly; nor does it appear that at the time of its first production it was referred to any ancient writer. Manilius was not mentioned. It is of modern invention, and was composed after the arrival of Franklin in Paris on his eventful mission. At first it was anonymous, but was attributed sometimes to D’Alembert and sometimes to Turgot. Beyond question, it was not the production of D’Alembert, while it is found in the Works of Turgot, published after his death, in the following form:—

“Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.”[227]

There is no explanation by the editor of the circumstances under which the verse was written; but it is given among poetical miscellanies of the author, immediately after a translation into French of Pope’s “Essay on Man,” in connection with the following French composition, entitled “Verses beneath the Portrait of Benjamin Franklin”:—

“Le voilà ce mortel dont l’heureuse industrieSut enchaîner la Foudre et lui donner des loix,Dont la sagesse active et l’éloquente voixD’un pouvoir oppresseur affranchit sa Patrie,Qui désarma les Dieux, qui réprime les Rois.”

“Le voilà ce mortel dont l’heureuse industrie

Sut enchaîner la Foudre et lui donner des loix,

Dont la sagesse active et l’éloquente voix

D’un pouvoir oppresseur affranchit sa Patrie,

Qui désarma les Dieux, qui réprime les Rois.”

The single Latin verse is a marvellous substitute for these diffuse and feeble lines.

If there were any doubt upon its authorship, it would be removed by the positive statement of Condorcet, who, in his Life of Turgot, written shortly after the death of this great man, says: “There is known from Turgot but one Latin verse, designed for the portrait of Franklin”; and he gives the verse in this form:—

“Eripuit cœlo fulmen, mox sceptra tyrannis.”[228]

But Sparks and Mignet,[229]and so also both the biographical dictionaries of France,—that of Michaud and that of Didot,—while ascribing it 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.[230]It cannot be doubted that this was the final form the verse assumed,—as it is unquestionably the best.

This verse was no common event. It was a new expression of the French alliance, and an assurance of independence. After its appearance and general adoption, there was no retreat for France.

To appreciate its importance in marking and helpinga great epoch, certain dates must be borne in mind. 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 Deffand, in her amusing correspondence with Horace Walpole, describes him in a visit to her “with a fur cap on his head and spectacles on his nose,” in the same small circle with Madame de Luxembourg, a great lady of the time, the Abbé Barthélemy, and the Duc de Choiseul, late Prime-Minister. This was on the 31st of December, 1776.[231]A pretty good beginning. More than a year of effort and anxiety ensued, brightened at last by the Burgoyne surrender at Saratoga. On the 6th 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 13th 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 promptly encountered it by a declaration of war. On the 20th 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.[232]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 Franklinproduced in France he might have been said to have fulfilled his mission, not to a court, but to a free people.… His virtues and renown negotiated for him.”[233]

Condorcet, who was 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 he thereby served the cause of his country. It was an honor to have seen him. People repeated what they had heard him say. Everyfêtewhich he was willing 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 reading of philosophical books had secretly disposed to the love of Liberty became enthusiastic 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.”[234]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 the names associated with human liberty, while, like another Old Mortality, he furbishes the tombstones of royal mistresses, is yet constrained to attest the popularityand influence which Franklin achieved. The critic dwells on what he styles his “Quaker garb,” his “linen so white under his brown clothes,” 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.[235]The rosewater biographer of Diane de Poitiers, Madame de Pompadour, and Madame du Barry would naturally disparage the representative of Science and Revolution.

From other quarters proceeds concurring testimony. A correspondent at Paris wrote: “He now engrosses the whole attention of the public. People of all ranks pay their court to him. His affability and complaisant behavior have gained him the esteem of the greatest people in this kingdom.”[236]Another wrote a little later: “When Dr. Franklin appears abroad, it is more like a public than a private gentleman, and the curiosity of the people to see him is so great that he may be said to be followed by a genteel mob.”[237]His mysterious power was asserted by an American newspaper, in announcing his intention “shortly to produce an electrical machine of such wonderful force, that, instead of giving a slight stroke to the elbows of fifty or a hundred thousand men who are joined hand in hand, it will give a violent shock even to Nature herself, so as to disunite kingdoms, join islands to continents, and render men of the same nation strangers and enemies to each other.”[238]The Londonpaper which spoke of him as “the old fox” acknowledged his power.[239]

The influence of Franklin was great beyond that of any American in Europe since. His presence gave character to the cause he represented, and was a standing recommendation of our country. Jefferson, who served two years with him at Paris, describes his influence there, and, in reply to the charge of subservience, says, in pregnant words: “He possessed the confidence of that Government in the highest degree, insomuch that it may truly be said that they were more under his influence than he under theirs. The fact is, that his temper was so amiable and conciliatory, his conduct so rational, never urging impossibilities, or even things unreasonably inconvenient to them, in short, so moderate and attentive to their difficulties, as well as our own, that what his enemies called subserviency I saw was only that reasonable disposition which, sensible that advantages are not all to be on one side, yielding what is just and liberal, is the more certain of obtaining liberality and justice.”[240]It is easy to see how such a character obtained from the French people the fame of snatching the sceptre from the tyrant.

The arrival of Franklin was followed very soon by the departure of the youthful Lafayette, who crossed the sea to offer his inspired sword to the service of American Liberty. Our cause was now widely known. In the throngedcafésand the places of public resort it was discussed with sympathy and admiration.[241]And so completelywas Franklin recognized as the representative of new ideas, that the Emperor Joseph the Second of Austria, professed reformer as he was, visiting France under the travelling name of Count Falkenstein, is reported to have remarked, when asked to see him, “My business is to be a royalist,”—thus doing homage to the real character of him in whom the Republic was personified.

Franklin became 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, were gathered the wits of the time, 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 Switzerland, 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, greatest of all. There was another, famous in some respects as any of these, but leading a different life, whom Franklin saw often,—Caron Beaumarchais, 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 clandestinesupplies of arms 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.[242]

Beyond all doubt, Turgot is one of the most remarkable intelligences that France has produced. He was by nature a philosopher and a reformer; but he was also a statesman, with a seat in the Cabinet of Louis the Sixteenth, first as Minister of the Marine, and then as Comptroller-General 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,—or, rather, the age was not good enough for him. The King was induced to part with him, forgetting his earlier words, “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 constraints of 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 foretold the American Revolution. These are his remarkable words:—

“Colonies are like fruits, which hold to the tree only till their maturity. Having become sufficient to themselves, they do that which Carthage did,that which America will one day do.”[243]

One of his last acts before leaving the Ministry was to prepare a memoir on the American War, for the information and at the request of the King, where 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 themselves, there will be a total revolution in the political and commercial relations of Europe and America,—and that all the parent states 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.”[244]This memoir of the French statesman bears date the 6th of April, 1776, nearly three months before the Declaration of Independence.

Leaving the Ministry, Turgot devoted himself to literature, science, and charity, translating Odes of Horace and portions of Virgil, studying geometry with Bossut, chemistry with Lavoisier, astronomy with Rochon, and interesting himself in everything by which human welfare is advanced. Such a character, with such experience of government, and the prophet of American independence, was naturally prepared to welcome Franklin, not only as philosopher, but also as statesman.

The classical welcome was partially anticipated,—at least in an unsuccessful attempt. Baron Grimm, in that interesting and instructive “Correspondance,” prepared originally for the advantage of distant courts, but now constituting a literary and social monument of the period,mentions, under date of October, 1777, that the following French verses were made for the portrait of Franklin by Cochin, engraved by St. Aubin:—

“C’est l’honneur et l’appui du nouvel hémisphère;Les flots de l’Océan s’abaissent à sa voix;Il réprime ou dirige à son gré le tonnerre:Qui désarme les dieux, peut-il craindre les rois?”[245]

“C’est l’honneur et l’appui du nouvel hémisphère;

Les flots de l’Océan s’abaissent à sa voix;

Il réprime ou dirige à son gré le tonnerre:

Qui désarme les dieux, peut-il craindre les rois?”[245]

These lines seem to contain the very idea in the verse of Turgot. But they were suppressed at the time by the censor, on the ground that they were “blasphemous,” although it is added in a note that “they concerned only the King of England.” Was it that the negotiations with Franklin were not yet sufficiently advanced? And here mark the dates.

It was only after the communication to Great Britain of the Treaty of Alliance and the reception of Franklin at Versailles, that the seal seems to have been broken. Baron Grimm, in his “Correspondance,” under date of April, 1778, makes the following entry.

“A very beautiful Latin verse has been made for the portrait of Dr. Franklin,—‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.’It is a happy imitation of a verse of the ‘Anti-Lucretius,’—‘Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, Phœboque sagittas.’”[246]

“A very beautiful Latin verse has been made for the portrait of Dr. Franklin,—

‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.’

It is a happy imitation of a verse of the ‘Anti-Lucretius,’—

‘Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, Phœboque sagittas.’”[246]

Here is the earliest notice of this verse, authenticating its origin. Nothing further is said of the “Anti-Lucretius”; for in that day it was familiar to every lettered person. But I shall speak of it before I close.

Only a few days later the verse appears in the correspondence of Madame D’Épinay, whose intimate relationswith Baron Grimm—the subject of curiosity and scandal—will explain her early knowledge of it. She records it in a letter to the very remarkable Italian Abbé Galiani, under date of May 3, 1778. And she proceeds to give a translation in French verse, which she says “D’Alembert made the other morning on waking.”[247]Galiani, who was himself a master of Latin versification, and followed closely the fortunes of America, must have enjoyed the tribute. In a letter written shortly afterwards, he enters into all the grandeur of the occasion. “You have,” says he, “at this hour decided the greatest revolution of the globe,—the question whether America shall rule Europe, or Europe shall continue to rule America. I would wager in favor of America.”[248]In these words the Neapolitan said as much as Turgot.

I cannot quote Galiani without adding that nobody saw America with more prophetic eye than this inspired Pulcinello of Naples. As far back as May 18, 1776, several weeks even before the Declaration of Independence, and much longer before it was known in Europe, he wrote: “The epoch is come for the total fall of Europe and for transmigration to America.… Do not, then, buy your house in the Chaussée d’Antin, but at Philadelphia. The misfortune for me is that there are no abbeys in America.”[249]Once a favorite in the very circle where Franklin was welcomed, he left Paris for Italy before the arrival of the negotiator, so that heknew the tribute only through a faithful correspondence.

Shortly afterwards the verse appears in a different scene. It had reached thesalonsof Madame Doublet, whence it was transferred to the “Mémoires Secrets” of Bachaumont, under date of June 8, 1778, as “a very beautiful verse, quite proper to characterize M. Franklin and to serve as an inscription for his portrait.”[250]These Memoirs, as is well known, are the record of news and town-talk gathered in the circle of that venerable Egeria of gossip;[251]and here is evidence of the publicity this welcome had promptly obtained.

The verse was now fairly launched. War was flagrant between France and Great Britain. No longer was there any reason why the new alliance between France and the United States should not be placed under the auspices of genius, and why the same hand that had snatched the lightning from the skies should not have the fame of snatching the sceptre from King George the Third. The time for free speech had come. It was no longer “blasphemous.”

It will be observed that these records of this verse fail to mention the immediate author. Was he unknown at the time? or did the fact that he was recently a Cabinet Minister induce him to hide behind a mask? Turgot was a master of epigram,—as witness the terrible lines on Frederick of Prussia;[252]but he was veryprudent in conduct. “Nobody,” said Voltaire, “so skilful to launch the shaft without showing the hand.” There is a letter from no less a person than D’Alembert, which reveals something of the “filing” which the verse underwent, and something of the persons consulted. Unhappily, the letter is without date; nor does it appear to whom it was addressed, except that the “cher confrère” seems to imply that it was to a brother of the Academy. This letter is found in a work now known to have been the compilation of the Marquis Gaëtan de la Rochefoucauld,[253]entitled “Mémoires de Condorcet sur la Révolution Française, extraits de sa Correspondance et de celles de ses Amis,” and is introduced by the following words from the Marquis:—

“It is known how Franklin was fêted when he came to Paris, because he was the representative of a republic. The philosophers, especially, received him with enthusiasm. It may be said, among other things, that D’Alembert lost his sleep; and we are going to prove it by a letter which he wrote, while racking his brain to versify in honor of Franklin.”

The letter is then given as follows:—

“Friday Morning.“My dear Colleague,— … You are acquainted with the Franklin verse,—‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen,mox sceptratyrannis.’You should surely cause it to be put in the Paris paper, if it is not there already.“I am inclined to agree with La Harpe thatsceptrumqueis better: first, becausemox sceptrais a little hard, and thenbecausemox, according to the dictionary of Gesner, who adduces examples, signifies equallystatimordeinde, which makes an ambiguity,mox eripuitormox eripiet.“Be that as it may, here is how I have attempted to translate this verse for the portrait of Franklin:—‘Tu vois le sage courageuxDont l’heureux et mâle génieArracha le tonnerre aux dieuxEt le sceptre à la tyrannie.’If you find these verses sufficiently tolerable, so that people will not laugh at me, you can have them put into the Paris paper, even with my name. I shall honor myself in rendering this homage to Franklin, but on condition once more that you find the versesprintable. As I make little pretension on account of them, I shall be perfectly content, if you reject them as bad.“The third verse might be put,A ravi le tonnerre aux cieuxoraux dieux. I should prefer the other; but you shall choose.”[254]

“Friday Morning.

“My dear Colleague,— … You are acquainted with the Franklin verse,—

‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen,mox sceptratyrannis.’

You should surely cause it to be put in the Paris paper, if it is not there already.

“I am inclined to agree with La Harpe thatsceptrumqueis better: first, becausemox sceptrais a little hard, and thenbecausemox, according to the dictionary of Gesner, who adduces examples, signifies equallystatimordeinde, which makes an ambiguity,mox eripuitormox eripiet.

“Be that as it may, here is how I have attempted to translate this verse for the portrait of Franklin:—

‘Tu vois le sage courageuxDont l’heureux et mâle génieArracha le tonnerre aux dieuxEt le sceptre à la tyrannie.’

‘Tu vois le sage courageux

Dont l’heureux et mâle génie

Arracha le tonnerre aux dieux

Et le sceptre à la tyrannie.’

If you find these verses sufficiently tolerable, so that people will not laugh at me, you can have them put into the Paris paper, even with my name. I shall honor myself in rendering this homage to Franklin, but on condition once more that you find the versesprintable. As I make little pretension on account of them, I shall be perfectly content, if you reject them as bad.

“The third verse might be put,A ravi le tonnerre aux cieuxoraux dieux. I should prefer the other; but you shall choose.”[254]

From this letter it appears that the critical judgment of La Harpe, confirmed by D’Alembert, sided forsceptrumqueas better thanmox sceptra.

The verse of Turgot was not alone in its testimony. An incident precisely contemporaneous shows how completely France had fallen under the fascination of the American cause. Voltaire, the acknowledged chief of French literature in the brilliant eighteenth century, after many years of busy exile at Ferney, in the neighborhood of Geneva, where he had wielded his far-reaching sceptre, was induced in old age to visit Paris once again before he died. He left his Swiss retreat on the 6th of February, 1778, the very day on which Franklin signed the alliance with France, and, after a journeywhich resembled the progress of a sovereign, reached Paris on the 10th of February. He was at once surrounded by the homage of all most illustrious in literature and science, while the Theatre, grateful for his contributions, vied with the Academy. There were two characters on whom the patriarch, as he was fondly called, lavished a homage of his own. He had already addressed to Turgot a most remarkable epistle in verse, the mood of which may be seen in its title, “Épître à un Homme”; but on seeing the discarded statesman, who had been so true to benevolent ideas, he came forward to meet him, saying, with his whole soul, “Let me kiss the hand which signed the salvation of the people.” The scene with Franklin was more touching still. Voltaire began in English, which he had spoken early in life, but, having lost the habit, soon changed to French, saying that he “could not resist the desire of speaking for one moment the language of Franklin.” The latter had brought with him his grandson, for whom he asked a benediction. “God and Liberty,” said Voltaire, putting his hands upon the head of the child; “this is the only benediction proper for the grandson of Franklin.” A few weeks afterward, at a public session of the Academy, they were placed side by side, when, amidst the applause of the enlightened company, the two old men rose and embraced. The political triumphs of Franklin and the dramatic triumphs of Voltaire caused the exclamation, “Solon and Sophocles embrace!” It was more than this. It was France and America embracing beneath the benediction of “God and Liberty.” Only a month later Voltaire died. But the alliance with France had received new assurance, and the cause of American independence an immutable impulse.

Turgot did not live to enjoy the final triumph to which he had given such remarkable expression. He died March 20, 1781, several months before that “crowning mercy,” the capture of Cornwallis, and nearly two years before the Provisional Articles of Peace, by which the Colonies were recognized as free and independent States. But his attachment to Franklin was one of the enjoyments of his latter years.[255]Besides the verse to which so much reference has been made, there is an interesting incident attesting the communion of ideas between them, if not the direct influence of Turgot. Captain Cook, the eminent navigator, who “steered Britain’s oak into a world unknown,” was in distant seas on a voyage of discovery. Such an enterprise naturally interested Franklin, and, in the spirit of a refined humanity, he sought to save it from the chances of war. Accordingly, he issued a passport, addressed “To all captains and commanders of armed ships acting by commission from the Congress of the United States of America, now in war with Great Britain,” where, after setting forth the nature of the voyage of the English navigator, he proceeded to say:“This is most earnestly to recommend to every one of you, that, in case the said ship, which is now expected to be soon in the European seas on her return, should happen to fall into your hands, you would not consider her as an enemy, nor suffer any plunder to be made of the effects contained in her, nor obstruct her immediate return to England by detaining her or sending her into any other part of Europe or to America, but that you would treat the said Captain Cook and his people with all civility and kindness, affording them, as common friends to mankind, all the assistance in your power which they may happen to stand in need of.”[256]This document bears date March 10, 1779. But Turgot had anticipated Franklin. At the first menace of war he had submitted a memoir to the French Government, on which it was ordered that Captain Cook should not be treated as an enemy, but as a benefactor of all European nations.[257]Here was a triumph of Civilization by which we, too, have been gainers; for such an example is universal and immortal in influence.

There is yet another circumstance which should be mentioned as revealing an identity of sympathies in these two eminent persons. Each sought to marry Madame Helvétius: Turgot early in life, while she was still Mademoiselle Ligniville, belonging to a family of twenty-one children, from a château in Lorraine, and a niece of Madame de Graffigny, author of the “Peruvian Letters”; Franklin in his old age, while a welcome guest in the intellectual company which this widowed lady continued to gather about her at Auteuil, in the neighborhood of Paris, and not far from his own house at Passy. Throughout his stay in France he continued in unbroken relations with this circle, dining with it very often, and adding much to its gayety, while Madame Helvétius, with her friends, dined with him once a week. It was with tears in his eyes that he parted from her, whom he never expected to see again in this life; and on reaching his American home he addressed her in words of touching tenderness:“I stretch out my arms towards you, notwithstanding the immensity of the seas which separate us, while I wait the heavenly kiss which I firmly trust one day to give you.”[258]

In the permanent group about Madame Helvétius were Cabanis and Morellet, both living for many years under her hospitable roof. To the former we are indebted for the interesting extract last quoted. The intimacy with Franklin is attested in other ways. Nobody who has visited the Imperial[259]Library at Paris can forget his very pleasant autograph note in French concerning Madame Helvétius, exhibited in the same case with an autograph note of Henry the Fourth to Gabrielle d’Estrées.

Another glimpse is furnished by Mrs. Adams, who, in her family correspondence, reports a scene at the house of Franklin. “The Doctor entered at one door, she [Madame Helvétius] at the other; upon which she ran forward to him, caught him by the hand, ‘Hélas, Franklin!’—then gave him a double kiss, one upon each cheek, and another upon his forehead.… She carried on the chief of the conversation at dinner, frequently locking her hand into the Doctor’s.” Franklin spoke of her as “a genuine Frenchwoman, wholly free from affectation or stiffness of behavior, and one of the best women in the world.”[260]Madame Helvétius died at Auteuil, August 12, 1800, aged eighty-one, and, according to her desire, was buried in her garden. A few years later the same house became the home of BenjaminThompson, Count Rumford, who died there, and was buried in the neighboring cemetery.

But the story of the verse is not yet finished. And here it mingles with the history of Franklin in Paris, constituting an episode of the American Revolution. The verse was written for a portrait. And now that the costly first step had been taken, the portrait of Franklin was seen everywhere,—in painting, in sculpture, and in engraving. I have counted in the superb collection of the Bibliothèque Impériale, at Paris, forty-seven engraved heads of him. At the royal exhibition of pictures the republican portrait found place, and the name of Franklin was printed at length in the catalogue,—a circumstance which did not pass unobserved at the time; for the “Espion Anglais,” in recording it, treats it as “announcing that he began to come out of his obscurity.”[261]The same curious authority, describing a festival at Marseilles, says, under date of March 20, 1779, “I was struck, on entering the hall, to observe a crowd of portraits representing the insurgents; but that of M. Franklin especially drew my attention, on account of the device, ‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.’ This was inscribed recently, andevery one admired the sublime truth.”[262]Thus completely was France, not merely in its social centre, where fashion gives the law, but in its distant borders, pledged to the cause of which Franklin was the representative.

As in halls of science and popular resorts, so was our Plenipotentiary even in the palace of princes. The biographer of the Prince de Condé dwells with admiration upon the illustrious character, who, during the greatdebate and the negotiations that ensued, had fixed the regards of Paris, of Versailles, of the whole kingdom indeed,—although in simple and farmer-like exterior, so unlike those gilded plenipotentiaries to whom France was accustomed,—and he recounts, most sympathetically, that the Prince, after an interview of two hours, declared that “Franklin appeared to him above even his reputation.”[263]And here we encounter again the unwilling testimony of Capefigue, who says that he was followed everywhere, taking possession of “hearts and minds,” and that “his picture, in his simple Quaker dress, was suspended at the hearth of the poor and in the boudoir of the fashionable,”[264]—all of which is in harmony with the more sympathetic record of Lacretelle, who says that “portraits of Franklin were to be seen everywhere, with this inscription,which the Court itself found just and sublime, ‘Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.’”[265]

Fragonard, the King’s painter, united in this adulation. A French paper describes the artist as displaying his utmost efforts“in an elegant picture dedicated to the genius of Franklin, who is represented with one hand opposing the ægis of Minerva to the thunderbolt, which he first knew how to fix by his conductors, and with the other commanding the God of War to fight against Avarice and Tyranny, whilst America, nobly reclining upon him, and holding in her hand the fasces, true emblem of the union of the American States, looks down with tranquillity on her defeated enemies.” It is then said, that “the painter, in this picture, most beautifully expressed the idea of the Latin verse which has been so justly applied to M. Franklin.” The enthusiastic journalist, not content with the picture and the verse, proceeded to claim him as of French ancestry. “Franklin appears rather to be of French than of English origin. It is certain that the name of Franklin, or Franquelin, is very common in Picardy, especially in the districts of Vimeux and Ponthieu. It is very probable that one of the Doctor’s ancestors was an inhabitant of this country, and went over to England with the fleet of Jean de Biencourt, or that which was fitted out by the nobility of this province.”[266]The story of Homer seems revived.

The tribute of Madame d’Houdetot was most peculiar. This lady, one of the riddles of French society in the eighteenth century, whom Rousseau depicted in a passage of surpassing fervor and made the inspiration of his “Nouvelle Éloïse,” received Franklin at her château, near Paris, in a brilliant circle, with banquet and verses in his honor. The famous guest, at his arrival, and then at dinner, with every glass of wine was saluted by a new verse, the whole ending with the ascription of Turgot.[267]Whether to admire or pity the philosopher on this occasion is the question.

In the minds of Frenchmen Franklin was associated always with this verse; but such association was no common fame. The Marquis de Chastellux, while on board the French frigate in the Chesapeake Bay, onwhich he was about to leave, after those travels which did so much to make our country known in Europe, addressed a communication to Professor Madison, of Virginia, on the fine arts in America, where he recommends for all the great towns a portrait of Franklin, “with the Latin verse inscribed in France below his portrait.”[268]Thus, while teaching our fathers the homage due to the great citizen, the generous Frenchman did not forget the testimony of his countryman.

French invention stopped not with Turgot. Other verses were pitched on the same key. An engraving of Franklin by Chevillet, after a portrait by Duplessis, has this tribute:—

“Honneur du Nouveau Monde et de l’Humanité,Ce Sage aimable et vrai les guide et les éclaire;Comme un autre Mentor, il cache à l’œil vulgaire,Sous les traits d’un mortel, une Divinité.”

“Honneur du Nouveau Monde et de l’Humanité,

Ce Sage aimable et vrai les guide et les éclaire;

Comme un autre Mentor, il cache à l’œil vulgaire,

Sous les traits d’un mortel, une Divinité.”

Under another engraving, by F. N. Martinet, where Franklin is seated in a chair, are these lines:—

“Il a ravi le feu des cieux,Il fait fleurir les arts en des climats sauvages;L’Amérique le place à la tête des sages,La Grèce l’auroit mis au nombre de ses Dieux.”

“Il a ravi le feu des cieux,

Il fait fleurir les arts en des climats sauvages;

L’Amérique le place à la tête des sages,

La Grèce l’auroit mis au nombre de ses Dieux.”

It was at Court, even in the palatial precincts of Versailles, that the portrait and its famous inscription had their most remarkable experience. Of this there is authentic account in the Memoirs of Marie Antoinette by her attendant, Madame Campan. This feminine chronicler relates that Franklin appeared at court in the dress of an American farmer. His flat hair without powder, his round hat, his coat of brown cloth contrasted with the bespangled and embroidered dresses, the powderedand perfumed coiffures of the courtiers. The novelty charmed the lively imagination of the French ladies. Elegantfêteswere given to the man who was said to unite in himself the renown of one of the greatest of natural philosophers with “those patriotic virtues which had made him embrace the noble part of Apostle of Liberty.” Madame Campan records that she assisted at one of thesefêtes, where the most beautiful among three hundred ladies was designated to place a crown of laurel upon the white head of the American philosopher, and two kisses upon the cheeks of the old man. Even in the palace, at the exposition of the Sèvres porcelain, the medallion of Franklin, with the legend, “Eripuit cœlo,” etc., was sold directly under the eyes of the King. Madame Campan adds, however, that the King avoided expressing himself on this enthusiasm, which, “without doubt, his sound sense led him to blame.” But an incident, called “a pleasantry,” which has remained quite unknown, goes beyond speech in explaining the secret sentiments of Louis the Sixteenth. The Comtesse Diane de Polignac, devoted to Marie Antoinette, shared warmly the “infatuation” with regard to Franklin. The King observed it. But here the story shall be told in the language of the eminent lady who records it: “Il fit faire à la manufacture de Sèvres un vase de nuit, au fond duquel était placé le médaillon avec la légendesi fort en vogue, et l’envoya en présent d’étrennes à la Comtesse Diane.”[269]Such was the exceptional treatment of Franklin, and of the inscription in his honor which was “so much in vogue.” Giving to this incident its natural interpretation, it is impossible to resist the conclusion,that the French people, and not the King, sanctioned American independence.

The conduct of the Queen on this occasion is not recorded, although we are told by the same communicative chronicler, who had been her Majesty’s companion, that she did not hesitate to express herself more openly than the King on the part taken by France in favor of American independence, to which she was constantly opposed. A letter from Marie Antoinette, addressed to Madame de Polignac, under date of April 9, 1787, declares unavailing regret in memorable words: “The time of illusions is past, and to-day we pay dear on account of our infatuation and enthusiasm for the American War.”[270]Evidently, Marie Antoinette, like her brother Joseph, thought that her “business was to be a royalist.”

But the name of Franklin triumphed in France. So long as his residence continued there he was received with honor; and when, after the achievement of independence, and the final fulfilment of all that was declared in the verse of Turgot, he undertook to return home, the Queen—who had looked with so little favor upon the cause he so grandly represented—sent a litter to receive his sick body and carry him gently to the sea. As the great Revolution began to show itself, his name was hailed with new honor; and this was natural; for the French Revolution was an outbreak of the spirit that had risen to welcome him. In snatching the sceptre from a tyrant he had given a lesson to France. His death, when at last it occurred, was the occasion of a magnificent eulogy from Mirabeau, who, borrowing theidea of Turgot, exclaimed from the tribune of the National Assembly, “Antiquity would have raised altars to the powerful genius, who, to the benefit of mankind, embracing in his thought both heaven and earth,could subdue lightning and tyrants.” On his motion, France went into mourning for Franklin.[271]His bust became a favorite ornament, and, during the festival of Liberty, it was carried, with the busts of Sidney, Rousseau, and Voltaire, before the people to receive their veneration.[272]A little later, the eminent medical character, Cabanis, who had lived in intimate association with Franklin, added his testimony, saying, that the enfranchisement of the United States was in many respects his work, and that the Revolution, the most important to the happiness of men which had then been accomplished on earth, united with one of the most brilliant discoveries of physical science to consecrate his memory; and he concludes by quoting the verse of Turgot.[273]Long afterwards, his last surviving companion in the cheerful circle of Madame Helvétius, still loyal to the idea of Turgot, hailed him as “that great man who placed his country in the number of independent states, and made one of the most important discoveries of the age.”[274]

It is time to look at this verse in its literary relations, from which I have been diverted by its commandingimport as a political event; but this naturally enhances the interest in its origin.

The poem which furnished the prototype of the famous verse was “Anti-Lucretius, sive de Deo et Natura,” by the Cardinal Melchior de Polignac. Its author was of that patrician house associated so closely with Marie Antoinette in the earlier Revolution, and with Charles the Tenth in the later Revolution, having its cradle in the mountains of Auvergne, near the cradle of Lafayette, and its present tomb in the historic cemetery of Picpus, near the tomb of Lafayette, so that these two great names, representing opposite ideas, begin and end side by side. He was not merely author, but statesman and diplomatist also, under Louis the Fourteenth and Fifteenth. Through his diplomacy a French prince was elected King of Poland. He represented France at the Peace of Utrecht, where he bore himself very proudly towards the Dutch. By the nomination of the Pretender, at that time in France, he obtained the hat of a cardinal. At Rome he was a favorite, and also at Versailles, with some interruptions. His personal appearance, his distinguished manners, his genius, and his accomplishments, all commended him. Literary honors were superadded to political and ecclesiastical. He succeeded to the chair of Bossuet at the Academy. But he was not without the vicissitudes of political life. Falling into disgrace at court, he was banished to the abbacy of Bonport. There the lettered Prince of the Church occupied himself with a refutation of Lucretius, in Latin verse.

The origin of the poem is not without interest. Meeting Bayle in Holland, the Frenchman found the indefatigable skeptic most persistently citing Lucretius, inwhose elaborate verse the atheistic materialism of Epicurus is developed and exalted. Others had answered the philosopher directly; but the indignant Christian was moved to answer the poet through whom the dangerous system was proclaimed. His poem was, therefore, a vindication of God and religion, in direct response to a master-poem of antiquity in which these are assailed. The attempt was lofty, especially when the champion adopted the language of Lucretius. Perhaps no writer of Latin verse since the admired Sannazaro, found equal success. Even before its publication, in 1747, it was read at court, and was admired in the princely circle of Sceaux. It appeared in elegant editions, was translated into French prose by Bougainville, and into French verse by Jeanty-Laurans, also most successfully into Italian verse by Ricci. At the latter part of the last century, when Franklin reached Paris, it was hardly less known in literary circles than a volume of Grote’s History in our own day. Voltaire, the contemporary arbiter of literary fame, regarding the author only on the side of literature, said of him, in his “Temple du Goût”:—

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