evoted 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 a la manufacture de Sevres un vase de nuit,
an fond duquel etait place le medaillon avec la legende _si fort en
vogue_, et l'envoya en present d'etrennes a la Comtesse Diane."[42] 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 special 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 which France took in favor of the
independence of the American Colonies, to which she was constantly
opposed. A letter from Mario Antoinette, addressed to Madame de
Polignac, under the date of April 9th, 1787, declares unavailing regret,
saying,--"The time of illusions is past, and to-day we pay dear on
account of our infatuation and enthusiasm for the American War."[43] It
is evident that 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 he continued to
reside 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 which 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 great Revolution
was the outbreak of that spirit which 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 the idea of Turgot, exclaimed from
the tribune of the National Assembly,--"Antiquity would have raised
altars to the powerful genius, who, for the good of man, embracing in
his thought heaven and earth, _could subdue lightning and tyrants_."[44]
On his