of curiosity to others.  He submitted to this curiosity with the natural facility of his character, and with the conviction that in this way he served the cause of his country.  It was an honor to have seen him.  People repeated what they had heard him say.  Every fete which he consented 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 works of philosophy had disposed secretly to the love of liberty were impassioned 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."[21] 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 those names which are associated with human liberty, while, like another Old Mortality, he furbishes the tombstones of royal mistresses—­is yet constrained to bear witness to the popularity and influence which Franklin achieved.  The critic dwells on what he styles his “Quaker garb,” “his linen so white under clothes so brown,” 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.[22]

The arrival of Franklin was followed very soon by the departure of the youthful Lafayette, who crossed the sea to offer his generous sword to the service of American liberty.  Our cause was now widely known.  In the thronged cafes and the places of public resort it was discussed with sympathy and admiration.[23] And so completely was Franklin recognized as the representative of new ideas, that the Emperor Joseph II. of Austria,—­professed reformer as he was,—­on one of his visits to France under the travelling-name of Count Falkenstein, is reported to have firmly avoided all temptation to see him, saying, “My business is to be a Royalist,”—­thus doing homage to the real character of Franklin, in whom the Republic was personified.

Franklin was at once, by natural attraction, the welcome guest of that brilliant company of philosophers who exercised such influence over the eighteenth century.  The “Encyclopedie” 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, the wits of that time were gathered, he found a hospitable chair.  But he was most at home with Madame Helvetius, the widow of the rich and handsome philosopher, whose name, derived from Holland, is now almost unknown.  At her house he met in social familiarity D’Alembert, Diderot, D’Holbach, Morellet, Cabanis, and Condorcet,