Already Franklin had taken up his quarters in Passy, where he held a little court of his own. Imbert de St. Amand, in his _Les Beaux Jours de Marie Antoinette_, has given a vivid picture of the impression made upon the inhabitants of Paris by the presence in their midst of the aged philosopher. “The idol of the day,” he says, “in that Paris, so capricious and so versatile, was Franklin—that peasant, that septuagenarian philosopher, that learned democrat, that man of the future—was acclaimed by the French aristocracy. The philanthropists, the apologists of perpetual peace, demanded war with loud cries. Louis XVI, notwithstanding his scruples of conscience, allowed himself to be won over. The apartments of Versailles filled themselves with solicitors of peril and of glory. All the young nobility wished to start at once. What transport! what madness! what valor in those paladin philosophers, those chivalrous democrats, having the double passion of glory and liberty, full of superb illusions, of generous follies, and so eloquent, so amiable, so brave! With what gaiety these quitted their pleasures, their châteaux, their theatres, to live the life of a soldier, to go to seek the other side of the Atlantic, perils and unknown dangers!” All this excitement caused by the presence of Franklin did not tend to lessen the vigilance of the English, although from the first they had hope that if France could be prevented from aiding the Colonies, Franklin might in the end be obliged to enter into negotiations with England. It was precisely this fear which haunted the French Government and induced the King to revoke the counter-order issued to prevent the sailing of the ships of Hortalès et Cie. Happy at last in gaining permission to leave port, Beaumarchais thought only of despatching his retarded vessels, when he learned that the _Amphitrite_, the one ship that had set out before the arrival of the counter-order, was at Lorient, a seaport on the west coast of France, whither it had been brought by du Coudray “under the pretext that bad weather encountered in the channel had shown the defective condition of the vessel.” (_Doniol_ II, p. 314.) Beaumarchais, still deceived, wrote to Vergennes: “_L’Amphitrite_, after sixteen days of bad weather, has been obliged to return for a moment to take on fresh provisions, those on board having been saturated by the sea. This is what I have from M. du Coudray, who asks that it be kept secret, and who expects to depart in a few days.” The treachery of this officer could not, however, long remain secret. “The English Ambassador, learning the details, complained loudly to Vergennes, who, irritated to find himself again compromised, laid the blame on Beaumarchais withdrawing the permission newly accorded to set sail.” (Loménie II, p. 137.) Du Coudray then wrote a long letter full of lame excuses. Beaumarchais, furious on learning the truth, replied as follows: