Imagination can hardly conceive a succession of pleasures more elegant
and refined than those which Dr. Franklin, now on the shady side of
threescore and ten, continued daily to enjoy in the vicinity of
Paris--his mornings constantly devoted to his beloved studies, and his
evenings to the cheerful society of his friends--the greatest monarch
of Europe heaping him with honours unasked, and the brightest WITS and
BEAUTIES of his court vying with each other in their attentions to
him. And thus as the golden hours rolled along, they still found him
happy--gratefully contrasting his present glory with his humble
origin, and thence breathing nothing but benevolence to man--firmly
confiding in the care of Heaven--and fully persuaded that his smiles
would yet descend upon his countrymen, now fighting the good fight of
liberty and happiness.
While waiting in strong hope of this most desirable of all events, he
received, by express, December 1777, the welcome news that the battle
had been joined in America, and that God had delivered a noble wing of
the British army into the hands of the brave republicans at Saratoga.
O ye, who, rejecting the philosophy of all embracing love, know no
joys beyond what the miser feels when his own little heap increases,
how faintly can you conceive what this great apostle of liberty
enjoyed when he found that his countrymen still retained the fire of
their gallant fathers, and were resolved to live free or press a
glorious grave! He lost no time to improve this splendid victory to
the good of his country. In several audiences with the king and his
ministers, he clearly demonstrated that France in all her days of
ancient danger had never known so dark a cloud impending over her as
at this awful crisis. "If Great Britain," said he, "already so
powerful were to subdue the revolted colonies and add all North
America to her empire, she would in twenty years be strong enough to
crush the power of France and not leave her an island or a ship on the
ocean." As a sudden flash of lightning from the opening clouds before
the burst of thunder and rain, such was the shock produced by this
argument on the mind of every thinking man throughout France. The
courtiers with all their talents for dissembling could not conceal
their hostile feelings from the British minister resident among them.
He marked it, not without sentiments of answering hostility, which he
could no better conceal, and which, indeed, after the honest bluntness
of his national character, he did not care to conceal. The increased
attentions paid to Dr. Franklin, and the rejoicings in Paris on
account of the American victories, were but illy calculated to soothe
his displeasure. Bitter complaints were presently forwarded to his
court--angry remonstrances to the French cabinet followed--and in a
short time the embers of ancient hate were blown up to flames of fury
so diabolical that nothing but war, with all its rivers of human blood
could extinguish it. War, of course, was proclaimed--Paris was
illuminated--and the thunder of the Royal cannon soon announced to the
willing citizens that the die was cast, and that the Grand Monarque
was become the Ally of the United States.
"_While there is any thing to be done nothing is done_," said Caesar.
Franklin thought so too. He had succeeded in his efforts to persuade
the warlike French to take part with his oppressed countrymen; but the
Spaniards and the Dutch were still neutral. To rouse their hostile
feelings against Great Britain, and to make them the hearty partisans
of Washington, was his next study. The event quickly showed that he
had studied human nature with success. He who had been the playmate of
lightnings for the _glory of God_, found no difficulty in stirring up
the _wrath of man to praise him_--by chastising the sons of violence.
The tall black ships of war were soon seen to rush forth from the
ports of Holland and Spain, laden with the implements of death, to
arrest the mad ambition of Great Britain, and maintain the balance of
power. How dearly ought the American people to prize their liberties,
for which such bloody contribution was laid on the human race!
Imagination glances with terror on that dismal war whose spread was
over half the solid and half the watery globe. Its devouring fires
burned from the dark wilds of North America to the distant isles of
India; and the blood of its victims was mingled with the brine of
every ocean. But, thanks to God, the conflict, though violent, was but
short. And much of the honour of bringing it to a close is to be
conceded to the instrumentality of Dr. Franklin.
We have seen that in 1763, he was sent (of Heaven no doubt, for it was
an act worthy of his all-benevolent character,) a preacher of
righteousness, to the proud court of Britain. His luminous preachings,
(through the press,) on the injustice and unconstitutionality of the
ministerial taxing measures on the colonies, shed such light, that
thousands of honest Englishmen set their faces against them, and also
against the war to which they saw it was tending. These converts to
justice, these doves of peace, were not sufficiently numerous to
defeat the war-hawks of their bloody purposes. But when they found
that the war into which they had plunged with such confidence, had
not, instantly, as they expected, reduced the colonies to slavish
submission; but that, instead thereof, one half Europe in favour of
America, was in arms against them with a horrible destruction of lives
and property which they had not counted on, and of which they saw no
end, they seriously deplored their folly in not pursuing the counsel
of doctor Franklin. The nation was still, however, dragged on in war,
plunging like a stalled animal, deeper and deeper in disaster and
distress, until the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army came like
a thunder-bolt, inflicting on the war party a death blow, from which
they never afterwards recovered.
Dr. Franklin received this most welcome piece of news, the surrender
of lord Cornwallis, by express from America. He had scarcely read the
letters with the tear of joy swelling in his patriot eye, when Mr.
Necker came in. Seeing the transport on his face, he eagerly asked
what _good news_. "_Thank God_," replied Franklin, "_the storm is
past. The paratonerres of divine justice have drawn off the lightning
of British violence, and here, sir, is the rainbow of peace_," holding
up the letter. What am I to understand by that, replied Necker. Why,
sir, quoth Franklin, my lord Cornwallis and his army are prisoners of
war to general Washington. Doctor Franklin's calculation, on the
surrender of Cornwallis, _that the storm was past_, was very correct;
for, although the thunders did not immediately cease, yet, after that
event, they hardly amounted to any thing beyond a harmless rumbling,
which presently subsided altogether, leaving a fine bright sky behind
them.