FRANKLIN SIGNS THE TREATY OF PEACE.--HOW GEORGE III RECEIVES THE NEWS.
THE surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown brought the war to an end.
The courier from the army came flying into Philadelphia at night. The
watchman called out, "Past twelve o'clock, and all is well!" "Past one
o'clock, and all is well!" and "Past two o'clock, and Cornwallis is
taken!" The people of the city were in the streets early that morning.
Bells pealed; men saluted each other in the name of "Peace."
Poor George III! He had stubbornly sought to subdue the colonies, and
had honestly believed that he had been divinely appointed to rule them
after his own will. No idea that he had ever been pigheaded and wrong
had ever been driven into his dull brain. His view of his prerogative
was that whatever he thought to be best was best, and they were
ungrateful and stiff-necked people who took a different view, and that
it was his bounden duty to punish such in his colonies for their
obstinacy.
It was November 25th in London--Sunday. A messenger came flying from the
coast to Pall Mall. He was bearing exciting news. On he went through
London until he reached the house of George Germain, Minister of
American Affairs. The messenger handed to Lord George a dispatch. The
minister glanced at it and read the fate of the New World, and must have
stood as one dazed:
"Cornwallis has surrendered!"
Lord Walsingham, an under-Secretary of State, was at the house. To him
he read the stunning dispatch. The two took a hackney coach and rode in
haste to Lord Stormont's.
"Mount the coach and go with us to Lord North's. Cornwallis is taken!"
Lord Stormont mounted the coach, and the three rode to the office of the
Secretary of State.
The prime minister received the news, we are told, "as he would have
taken a ball into his heart."
"O God, it is all over!" he exclaimed, pacing up and down the room, and
again and again, "O God, it is over!"
The news was conveyed to the king that half of his empire was lost--that
his hope of the New World was gone. How was the king affected? Says a
writer of the times, who gives us a glance at this episode:
"He dined on that day," he tells us, "at Lord George Germain's; and Lord
Walsingham, who likewise dined there, was the only guest that had become
acquainted with the fact. The party, nine in number, sat down to the
table. Lord George appeared serious, though he manifested no
discomposure. Before the dinner was finished one of his servants
delivered him a letter, brought back by the messenger who had been
dispatched to the king. Lord George opened and perused it; then looking
at Lord Walsingham, to whom he exclusively directed his observation,
'The king writes,' said he, 'just as he always does, except that I
observe he has omitted to note the hour and the minute of his writing
with his usual precision.' This remark, though calculated to awaken some
interest, excited no comment; and while the ladies, Lord George's three
daughters, remained in the room, they repressed their curiosity. But
they had no sooner withdrawn than Lord George, having acquainted them
that from Paris information had just arrived of the old Count de
Maurepas, first minister, lying at the point of death, 'It would grieve
me,' said he, 'to finish my career, however far advanced in years, were
I first minister of France, before I had witnessed the termination of
this great contest between England and America.' 'He has survived to see
that event,' replied Lord George, with some agitation. Utterly
unsuspicious of the fact which had happened beyond the Atlantic, he
conceived him to allude to the indecisive naval action fought at the
mouth of the Chesapeake early in the preceding month of September
between Admiral Graves and Count de Grasse, an engagement which in its
results might prove most injurious to Lord Cornwallis. Under this
impression, 'My meaning,' said he, 'is, that if I were the Count de
Maurepas I should wish to live long enough to behold the final issue of
the war in Virginia.' 'He has survived to witness it completely,'
answered Lord George. 'The army has surrendered, and you may peruse the
particulars of the capitulation in that paper,' taking at the same time
one from his pocket, which he delivered into his hand, not without
visible emotion. By his permission he read it aloud, while the company
listened in profound silence. They then discussed its contents as
affecting the ministry, the country, and the war. It must be confessed
that they were calculated to diffuse a gloom over the most convivial
society, and that they opened a wide field for political speculation.
"After perusing the account of Lord Cornwallis's surrender at Yorktown,
it was impossible for all present not to feel a lively curiosity to know
how the king had received the intelligence, as well as how he had
expressed himself in his note to Lord George Germain, on the first
communication of so painful an event. He gratified their wish by reading
it to them, observing at the same time that it did the highest honor to
his Majesty's fortitude, firmness, and consistency of character. The
words made an impression on his memory, which the lapse of more than
thirty years has not erased; and he here commemorates its tenor as
serving to show how that prince felt and wrote under one of the most
afflicting as well as humiliating occurrences of his reign. The billet
ran nearly to this effect:
"'I have received with sentiments of the deepest concern the
communication which Lord George Germain has made me of the unfortunate
result of the operations in Virginia. I particularly lament it on
account of the consequences connected with it, and the difficulties
which it may produce in carrying on the public business, or in repairing
such a misfortune. But I trust that neither Lord George Germain, nor any
member of the cabinet, will suppose that it makes the smallest
alteration in those principles of my conduct which have directed me in
past time, and which will always continue to animate me under every
event in the prosecution of the present contest.' Not a sentiment of
despondency or of despair was to be found in the letter, the very
handwriting of which indicated composure of mind."
Franklin was still envoy plenipotentiary at beautiful Passy. He received
the thrilling news, and wondered what terms the English Government would
now seek to make in the interests of peace.
The king was shaken in mind and becoming blind. He was opposed to any
negotiations for peace, and threatened to abdicate. He sank into a
pitiable state of insanity some years after, was confined in a padded
room, and even knew not when the battle of Waterloo was fought, and when
his own son died he was not called to the funeral ceremonies.
But negotiations were begun, or attempted, with Dr. Franklin at Paris.
Passy was again the scene of great events.
Mr. Adams, as a representative of the United States, arrived in Paris.
Mr. Gay, another representative, was there; conference after conference
was held with the English ambassador, and the final conference was held
with the English ministers on November 29, 1782.
On the 18th of January, 1782, at Versailles, the representatives of
England, France, and Spain signed the preliminaries of peace, declaring
hostilities suspended, in the presence of Mr. Adams and Dr. Franklin.
These preliminaries were finally received as a definitive treaty of
peace, and on Wednesday, September 3, 1783, this Treaty of Peace was
signed in Paris.
When the preliminary treaty was signed, Franklin rushed into the arms of
the Duc de la Rochefoucault, exclaiming:
"My friend, could I have hoped at my age to enjoy such happiness?" He
was then seventy-six years old.
So again the handwriting of the old Boston school appeared in the great
events of nations. It was now set to peace.
It would not seem likely that it would ever again adorn any like
document. Franklin was old and gray. He had signed the Declaration, the
Treaty of Alliance, and now the Treaty of Peace. He had done his work in
writing well. It had ended well. Seventy-six years old; surely he would
rest now at Passy, or return to some Philadelphia seclusion and await
the change that must soon fall upon him.
But this glorious old man has not yet finished the work begun by Silence
Dogood. Those are always able to do the most who are doing many things.
It is a period of young men now; it was a time of old men then. People
sought wisdom from experience, not experiment.
The peace is signed. The bells are ringing, and oppressed peoples
everywhere rejoice. There is an iris on the cloud of humanity. The name
of Franklin fills the world, and in most places is pronounced like a
benediction.
From a tallow-chandler's shop to palaces; from the companionship of
Uncle Ben, the poet, to that of royal blood, people of highest rank, and
the most noble and cultured of mankind; from being laughed at, to being
looked upon with universal reverence, love, and awe.