At the time appointed they went to the place and waited the coming of the unknown amba.s.sador.

There entered the room an elderly man of dignified appearance and military bearing. He was lame; he may have been at some time wounded. He spoke with a French accent. It was plainly to be seen that he was a French military officer.

Why had he come here? Where had he been hiding?

The committee received him cautiously and inquired in regard to the nature of his mission.

"His Most Christian Majesty the King of France," said he, "has heard of your struggle for a defense of your rights and for liberty. He has desired me to meet you as his representative, and to express to you his respect and sympathy, and to say to you in secrecy that should the time come when you needed aid, his a.s.sistance would not be withheld."

This was news of moment. The committee expressed their grat.i.tude and satisfaction, and said:

"Will you give us the evidence of your authority that we may present it to Congress?"

His answer was strange.

"Gentlemen," said he, drawing his hand across his throat, "I shall take care of my head."

"But," said one of the committee, "in an event of such importance we desire to secure the friendly opinion of Congress."

"Gentlemen," making the same gesture, "I shall take care of my head." He then said impressively: "If you want arms, you may have them; if you want ammunition, you may have it; if you want money, you may have it.

Gentlemen, I shall take care of my head."

He went out and disappeared from public view. He is such a mysterious character in our history as to recall the man with the Iron Mask. Did he come from the King of France? None knew, or could ever tell.

Diplomacy employed secret messengers at this time. It was full of suggestions, intrigues, and mysteries.

But there was one thing that this lame but courtly French officer did: he made an impression on the minds of the committee that the colonies had a friend in his "Most Christian Majesty the King of France," and from him they might hope for aid and for an alliance in their struggle for independence. Here was topic indeed for the secret committee.

On the 26th of September, 1776, Congress elected three amba.s.sadors to represent the American cause in the court of France; they were Silas Deane, Arthur Lee, and Benjamin Franklin. Before leaving the country Franklin collected all the money that he could command, some four thousand pounds, and lent it to Congress. Taking with him his two grandsons, he arrived at Nantes on the 7th of December of that year, and he received in that city the first of the many ovations that his long presence in France was destined to inspire. He went to Paris, and took up his residence at Pa.s.sy, a village some two miles from the city, on a high hill overlooking the city and the Seine. It was a lovely place even in Franklin's day. Here have lived men of royal endowments--Rossini, Bellini, Lamartine, Grisi. The arrival of Franklin there, where he lived many years, made the place famous. For Franklin, as a wonder-worker of science and as an apostle of human liberty, was looked upon more as a G.o.d than a man in France--a Plato, a Cato, a Socrates, with the demeanor of a Procion.

His one hope now was that he would be able to set the signature which he had left on the Declaration of Independence on a Treaty of Alliance between the States of America and his Most Christian Majesty the King of France. Will he, O shade of the old schoolmaster of Boston town?

Jamie the Scotchman, the type of the man who ridicules and belittles one, but claims the credit of his success when that one is successful, was very old now. Fine old Mr. Calamity, who could only see things in the light of the past, would prophesy no more. A young man with a purpose is almost certain to meet men like these in his struggles. Not all are able to pa.s.s such people in the Franklin spirit. He heard what such men had to say, tried to profit by their criticism, but wasted no time or energy in dispute or retaliation. The seedtime of life is too short, and its hours are too few, to spend in baffling detraction. Time makes changes pleasantly, and tells the truth concerning all men. A high purpose seeking fulfillment under humble circ.u.mstances is sure to be laughed at. It is that which stands alone that looks queer.

After Samuel Adams, Franklin was among the first of those leaders whose heart sought the independence of the colonies. The resolution for independence, pa.s.sed on July 4, 1776, set ringing the Liberty Bell on the State House of Philadelphia. Couriers rode with the great news of the century and of the ages to Boston, which filled the old town with joy.

They brought a copy of the Declaration with them, and a day was appointed for the reading of it from the front window of the State House, under the shadow of the king's arms, the cla.s.sic inscription, and the lion and the unicorn.

Old, tottering Jamie the Scotchman was among those who heard the great news with an enkindled heart. He, who had so laughed at little Ben's attempts for the public welfare, now claimed more and more to have been the greatest friend of the statesman's youth. It was the delight of his ninety or more years to make this claim wherever he went, and when the courier brought the news of the Declaration, we may see him going to Jane Mecom's house.

"You all know what a friend I was to that boy, and how I encouraged him, a little roughly it may be, but I always meant well. Jane, on the day the Declaration is read in public I want you to let me go with you to hear it."

They go together; she a l.u.s.ty woman in full years, and he who had long outlived his generation.

The street in front of the old State House is filled with people. The balcony window is thrown up, and out of the Council Chamber, now popularly known as the Sam Adams room, there appears the representative of Sam Adams and of five members of the Boston schools who had signed the Declaration. The officers of the State are there, and over the street shines the spire of the South Church and gleams the Province House Indian. The children are there; aged idlers who loitered about the town pump; the women patriots from Spring Lane. The New England flag, of blue ground with the cross of St. George on a white field, floats high over all.

A voice rends the clear air. It read:

"When in the course of human events," and it marches on in stately tones above the silence of the people. At the words "all men are created free and equal," the name of Franklin breaks upon the stillness. Jamie the Scotchman joins in the rising applause, and he proudly turns to Jane Mecom and says:

"Only to think what a friend I was to him, too!"

They return by the Granary burying ground. A tall, gray monument holds their attention. It is one that the people loved to visit then, and that touches the heart to-day. At the foot of the epitaph they read again, as they had done many times before:

_"Their youngest son,_ _in filial regard to their memory,_ _places this stone."_

"His heart was true to the old folks," said Jamie.

It was the monument that Benjamin Franklin had erected to his parents.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

ANOTHER SIGNATURE.--THE STORY OF AUVERGNE SANS TACHE.

SOME years ago I stood on the battlements of Metz, once a French but now a German town. Below the town, with its grand esplanade, on which is a heroic statue of Marshal Ney, rolls the narrow Moselle, and around it are the remains of fortifications that are old in legend, song, and story.

It was here, near one of these old halls, that a young Frenchman saw, as it were, a vision, and the impression of that hour was never lost, but became a turning point in American history.

There had come a report to the English court that Washington had been driven across the Jerseys, and that the American cause was lost.

There was given at this time a military banquet at Metz. The Duke of Gloucester, brother of George III, was present, and among the French officers there was a marquis, lately married, who was a favorite of the French court. He had been brought up in one of the heroic provinces of Auvergne, and he had been a.s.sociated with the heroes of Gatinais, whose motto was _Auvergne sans tache_. The Auvergnese were a pastoral people, distinguished for their courage and honor. In this mountainous district was the native place of many eminent men, among them Polignac.

The young French marquis who was conspicuous at the banquet on this occasion was named Lafayette.

The Duke of Gloucester was in high spirits over his cups on this festal night.

"Our arms are triumphant in America!" he exclaimed. "Washington is retreating across the Jerseys."

A shout went up with glittering wine-cups: "So ever flee the enemies of George III!"

"Washington!" The name rang in the young French officer's ears. He had in his veins the blood of the mountaineers, and he loved liberty and the spirit of the motto _Auvergne sans tache_.

He may never have heard the name of Washington before, or, if he had, only as of an officer who had given Braddock unwelcome advice. But he knew the American cause to be that of liberty, and Washington to be the leader of that cause.

And Washington "was retreating across the Jerseys." Where were the Jerseys? He may never have heard of the country before.

He went out into the air under the moon and stars. There came to him a vision of liberty and a sense of his duty to the cause. The face of America, as it were, appeared to him. "When first I saw the face of America, I loved her," he said many years afterward to the American Congress.

Washington was driven back in the cause of liberty. Lafayette resolved to cross the seas and to offer Washington his sword. He felt that liberty called him--liberty for America, which might mean liberty for France and for all mankind.

About this time Benjamin Franklin began to receive letters from this young officer, filled with the fiery spirit of the mountaineers. The officer desired a commission to go to America and enter the army. But it was a time of disaster, and faith in the American cause was very low.

The marquis resolved to go to America at his own expense.

He sailed for that country in May, 1777. He landed off the coast of the Carolinas in June, and made his memorable ride across the country to Philadelphia in that month. Baron de Kalb accompanied him.