that time except Franklin. Deane they tolerated, Izard they laughed at,
Adams they snubbed, and Lee they despised as a stupid blunderer who
knew no better than to abuse French manners in the presence of his
servants, who spread the tale all over Paris. But dear, delightful,
philosophic, shrewd, economical, naughty, flirtatious, and
anecdote-telling Franklin seemed like one of themselves. He still
remains the only American that the French have thoroughly known and
liked. The more we read of him the more confidence we are inclined to
place in the supposition that three or four centuries back he must have
had a French ancestor who migrated to England, and some of whose
characteristics were reproduced in his famous descendant. The little
fables and allegories he wrote to please them read like translations
from the most subtle literary men of France. Fancy any other American or
Englishman writing to Madame Brillon the letter which was really a
little essay afterwards known as the "Ephemera," and very popular in
France.
"You may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent
that happy day in the delightful garden and sweet society of the
Moulin Joly, I stopped a little in one of our walks, and stayed
some time behind the company. We had been shown numberless
skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an ephemera, whose
successive generations, we were told, were bred and expired
within the day. I happened to see a living company of them on a
leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. You know I
understand all the inferior animal tongues. My too great
application to the study of them is the best excuse I can give
for the little progress I have made in your charming language. I
listened through curiosity to the discourse of these little
creatures; but as they, in their natural vivacity, spoke three
or four together, I could make but little of their conversation.
I found, however, by some broken expressions that I heard now
and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two
foreign musicians, one a _cousin_, the other a _moscheto_; in
which dispute they spent their time, seemingly as regardless of
the shortness of life as if they had been sure of living a
month. Happy people! thought I; you are certainly under a wise,
just, and mild government, since you have no public grievances
to complain of, nor any subject of contention but the
perfections and imperfections of foreign music. I turned my head
from them to an old grey-headed one, who was single on another
leaf, and talking to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I
put it down in writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to
whom I am so much indebted for the most pleasing of all
amusements, her delicious company and heavenly harmony."...
The letter is too long to quote entire; but some of the fine touches in
the passage given should be observed. He refers to the little progress
he had made in French, and he certainly spoke that language badly,
although he read it with ease. He probably had a large vocabulary; but
he trampled all over the grammar, as Adams tells us. He managed,
however, by means of a little humor to make this defect endear him still
more to the people. The musical dispute of the insects is a hit at a
similar dispute among the Parisians over two musicians, Gluck and
Picini. But what a depth of subtlety is shown in the suggestion which
follows, that the French were under such a wise government and such a
good king that they could afford to waste their time in disputing about
trifles! No wonder that all the notable people and the rulers loved him.
This single delicately veiled point was alone almost sufficient to make
his fortune in the peculiar society of that time. It was in such perfect
taste, so French, such a rebuke to the fanatics who were laying the
foundations of the Reign of Terror; and yet, at the same time,
Franklin, as the apostle of liberty, was regarded by many of those
fanatics as one of themselves. In this way he carried with him all
France.
But suppose that John Adams had been given the opportunity to write such
a letter to a French lady; what would he have done? The straightforward
fellow would probably have thought it his religious, moral, and
patriotic duty to tell her that the government she lived under was
wasteful and extravagant, and was plotting to destroy the liberties of
America.
Madame Brillon, for whom the "Ephemera" was written, was a charming
woman and more domestic than French ladies are supposed to be. For her
amusement were written some of Franklin's most famous essays,--"The
Morals of Chess," "The Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout," "The
Story of the Whistle," "The Handsome and Deformed Leg," and "The
Petition of the Left Hand." In a letter telling how the "Ephemera"
happened to be written he has described the intimacy he and his grandson
enjoyed at her house:
"The person to whom it was addressed is Madame Brillon, a lady
of most respectable character and pleasing conversation;
mistress of an amiable family in this neighborhood, with which I
spend an evening twice every week. She has, among other elegant
accomplishments, that of an excellent musician; and with her
daughter who sings prettily, and some friends who play, she
kindly entertains me and my grandson with little concerts, a cup
of tea, and a game of chess. I call this _my Opera_, for I
rarely go to the Opera at Paris."
Madame Helvetius, a still more intimate friend, was a very different
sort of woman. She was the widow of a literary man of some celebrity,
and she and Franklin were always carrying on an absurd sort of
flirtation. They hugged and kissed each other in public, and exchanged
extravagant notes which were sometimes mock proposals of marriage,
although some have supposed them to have been real ones. He wrote a sort
of essay addressed to her, in which he imagines himself in the other
world, where he meets her husband, and, after the exchange of many
clever remarks with him about madame, he discovers that Helvetius is
married to his own deceased wife, Mrs. Franklin, who declares herself
rather better pleased with him than she had been with the Philadelphia
printer.
"Indignant at this refusal of my Eurydice, I immediately
resolved to quit those ungrateful shades, and return to this
good world again, to behold the sun and you! Here I am: let us
_avenge ourselves_!"
Such sport over deceased wives and husbands would not be in good taste
in America or England, but it was correct enough in France. One of his
short notes to Madame Helvetius has also been preserved:
"Mr. Franklin never forgets any party at which Madame Helvetius
is expected. He even believes that if he were engaged to go to
Paradise this morning, he would pray for permission to remain on
earth until half-past one, to receive the embrace promised him
at the Turgots'."
Mrs. Adams has left a description of Madame Helvetius which admirers of
Franklin have in vain attempted to explain away by saying that all
French women were like her, and that she was, after all, a really noble
person:
"She entered the room with a careless, jaunty air; upon seeing
ladies who were strangers to her, she bawled out, 'Ah! mon Dieu,
where is Franklin? Why did you not tell me there were ladies
here?' You must suppose her speaking all this in French. 'How I
look!' said she, taking hold of a chemise made of tiffany, which
she had on over a blue lute-string, and which looked as much
upon the decay as her beauty, for she was once a handsome woman;
her hair was frizzled; over it she had a small straw hat, with a
dirty gauze half-handkerchief round it, and a bit of dirtier
gauze than ever my maids wore was bowed on behind. She had a
black gauze scarf thrown over her shoulders. She ran out of the
room; when she returned, the Doctor entered at one door, she at
the other; upon which she ran forward to him, caught him by the
hand, 'Hélas! Franklin;' then gave him a double kiss, one upon
each cheek, and another upon his forehead. When we went into the
room to dine, she was placed between the Doctor and Mr. Adams.
She carried on the chief of the conversation at dinner,
frequently locking her hand into the Doctor's, and sometimes
spreading her arms upon the backs of both the gentlemen's
chairs, then throwing her arm carelessly upon the Doctor's neck.
"I should have been greatly astonished at this conduct, if the
good Doctor had not told me that in this lady I should see a
genuine Frenchwoman, wholly free from affectation or stiffness
of behavior, and one of the best women in the world. For this I
must take the Doctor's word; but I should have set her down for
a very bad one, although sixty years of age, and a widow. I own
I was highly disgusted, and never wish for an acquaintance with
any ladies of this cast. After dinner she threw herself upon a
settee, where she showed more than her feet. She had a little
lap-dog, who was, next to the Doctor, her favorite. This she
kissed, and when he wet the floor she wiped it up with her
chemise. This is one of the Doctor's most intimate friends, with
whom he dines once every week, and she with him. She is rich,
and is my near neighbor; but I have not yet visited her. Thus
you see, my dear, that manners differ exceedingly in different
countries. I hope, however, to find amongst the French ladies
manners more consistent with my ideas of decency, or I shall be
a mere recluse." (Letters of Mrs. John Adams, p. 252.)
It is not likely that Franklin had the respect for Madame Helvetius that
he had for Madame Brillon. She was, strange to say, an illiterate woman,
as one of her letters to him plainly shows. Some of his letters to her
read as if he were purposely feeding her inordinate vanity. He tells her
in one that her most striking quality is her artless simplicity; that
statesmen, philosophers, and poets flock to her; that he and his friends
find in her "sweet society that charming benevolence, that amiable
attention to oblige, that disposition to please and to be pleased which
we do not always find in the society of one another." She lived at
Auteuil, and he and the Abbé Morellet and others called her "Our Lady of
Auteuil." They boasted much of their love for her, and enjoyed many
wonderful conversations on literature and philosophy, and much gayety at
her house, which they called "The Academy."
After Franklin had returned to America the Abbé Morellet, who was an
active and able man in his way, wrote him many amusing letters about
their lady and her friends.
"I shall never forget the happiness I have enjoyed in knowing
you and seeing you intimately. I write to you from Auteuil,
seated in your arm chair, on which I have engraved _Benjamin
Franklin hic sedebat_, and having by my side the little bureau,
which you bequeathed to me at parting with a drawerful of nails
to gratify the love of nailing and hammering, which I possess in
common with you. But, believe me, I have no need of all these
helps to cherish your endeared remembrance and to love you.
"'Dum memor ipse mei, dum spiritus hos reget artus.'"
[Illustration: FRANKLIN RELICS IN THE POSSESSION OF THE HISTORICAL
SOCIETY OF PENNSYLVANIA]
One of the cleverest letters Franklin wrote while in France was
addressed to an old English friend, Mrs. Thompson, who had called him
a rebel. "You are too early, _hussy_" he says, "as well as too saucy, in
calling me _rebel_; you should wait for the event, which will determine
whether it is a _rebellion_ or only a _revolution_. Here the ladies are
more civil; they call us _les insurgens_, a character that usually
pleases them." He continues chaffing her, and describes himself as
wearing his own hair in France, where every one else had on a great
powdered wig. If they would only dismiss their _friseurs_ and give him
half the money they pay to them, "I could then enlist these _friseurs_,
who are at least one hundred thousand, and with the money I would
maintain them, make a visit with them to England, and dress the heads of
your ministers and privy councillors, which I conceive at present to be
_un peu dérangées_. Adieu, madcap; and believe me ever, your
affectionate friend and humble servant."
In the large house of M. de Chaumont, which he occupied, he, of course,
had his electrical apparatus, and played doctor by giving electricity to
paralytic people who were brought to him. On one occasion he made the
wrong contact, and fell to the floor senseless. He had, also, a small
printing-press with type made in the house by his own servants, and he
used it to print the little essays with which he amused his friends.
His friendships in France seem to have been mostly among elderly people.
There are only a few traces of his fondness for young girls, and we find
none of those pleasant intimacies such as he enjoyed with Miss Ray, Miss
Stevenson, or the daughters of the Bishop of St. Asaph. Unmarried women
in France were too much restricted to be capable of such friendships
even with an elderly man. But among his papers in the collection of the
American Philosophical Society there is a letter written by some French
girl who evidently had taken a fancy to him and playfully insisted on
calling herself his daughter.
"MY DEAR FATHER AMÉRICAIN
"god Bess liberty! I drunk with all my heart to the republick of
the united provinces. I am prepared to my departure if you will
and if it possible. give me I pray you leave to go. I shall be
happy of to live under the laws of venerable good man richard.
adieu my dear father I am with the most respect and tenderness
"Your humble Servant
"and your daughter
"J. B. J. CONWAY.
"Auxerre 22 M. 1778."
Besides the dining abroad, which, he tells us, occurred six days out of
seven, he gave a dinner at home every Sunday for any Americans that were
in Paris; "and I then," he says, "have my grandson Ben, with some other
American children from the school."
New-Englanders had very economical ideas in those days, and when it was
learned that Franklin entertained handsomely in Paris there was a great
fuss over it in the Connecticut newspapers.
The _fête-champêtre_ that was given to him by the Countess d'Houdetot
must have been a ridiculous and even nauseous dose of adulation to
swallow; but he no doubt went through it all without a smile, and it
serves to show the extraordinary position that he occupied. He was more
famous in France than Voltaire or any Frenchman.
A formal account of the _fête_ was prepared by direction of the
countess, and copies circulated in Paris. The victim of it is described
as "the venerable sage" who, "with his gray hairs flowing down upon his
shoulders, his staff in his hand, the spectacles of wisdom on his nose,
was the perfect picture of true philosophy and virtue;" and this
sentence is as complete a summary as could be made of what Franklin was
to the French people.
As soon as he arrived the countess addressed him in verse:
"Soul of the heroes and the wise,
Oh, Liberty! first gift of the gods.
Alas! at too great a distance do we offer our vows.
As lovers we offer homage
To the mortal who has made citizens happy."
The company walked through the gardens and then sat down to the banquet.
At the first glass of wine they rose and sang,--
"Of Benjamin let us celebrate the glory;
Let us sing the good he has done to mortals.
In America he will have altars;
And in Sanoy let us drink to his glory."
At the second glass the countess sang a similar refrain, at the third
glass the viscount sang, and so on for seven glasses, each verse more
extraordinary than the others. Virtue herself had assumed the form of
Benjamin; he was greater than William Tell; Philadelphia must be such a
delightful place; the French would gladly dwell there, although there
was neither ball nor play. But Sanoy was Philadelphia as long as dear
Benjamin remained there. He was led to the garden to plant a tree, with
more singing about the lightning that he had drawn from the sky, and the
lightning, of course, would never strike that tree. Finally he was
allowed to depart with another song of adulation addressed to him after
he was seated in the carriage.
Now that more than a hundred years have passed it is gratifying to our
national pride to reflect that a man who was so thoroughly American in
his origin and education should have been worshipped in this way by an
alien race as no other man, certainly no other American, was ever
worshipped by foreigners. But the enjoyment of this stupendous
reputation, overshadowing and dwarfing the Adamses, Jays, and all other
public men who went to Europe, was marred by some unpleasant
consequences. Jealousies were aroused not only among individuals, but to
a certain extent among all the American people. It was too much. He had
ceased to be one of them. It was rumored that he would never return to
America, but would resign and settle down among those strangers who
treated him as though he were a god.
It was also inevitable that a worse suspicion should arise. He was too
subservient, it was said, to France. He yielded everything to her. He
was turning her from an ally into a ruler. He could no longer see her
designs; or, if he saw them, he approved of them. This suspicion gained
such force that it was the controlling principle with Adams and Jay
when they went to Paris to arrange the treaty of peace with England
after the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown in October, 1781. We
have seen instances in our own time of our ministers to Great Britain
becoming very unpopular at home because they were liked in England, and
in Franklin's case this feeling was vastly greater than anything we have
known in recent years, because his popularity in France was prodigious,
and he avowedly acted upon the principle that it was best to be
complaisant to the French court.
During the winter which followed the surrender of Lord Cornwallis
overtures of peace were made by England to Franklin, as representing
America, and to Vergennes, as representing France, and they became more
earnest in March after the Tory ministry, which had been conducting the
war, was driven from power. In April the negotiations with Franklin were
well under way, and he continued to conduct them until June, when he was
taken sick and incapacitated for three months. After his recovery he
took only a minor part in the proceedings, for Jay and Adams had
meanwhile arrived.
Congress had appointed Adams, Jay, Franklin, Jefferson, and Laurens
commissioners to arrange the treaty, and made Adams head of the
commission. When the negotiations began, however, Franklin was the only
commissioner at Paris, and necessarily took charge of all the business.
Just before he was taken sick Jay arrived, and he and Jay conducted
affairs until Adams joined them at the end of October. Laurens, who had
been a prisoner in England, did not reach Paris until just before the
preliminary treaty was signed, and Jefferson, being detained in America,
took no part in the proceedings.
While Franklin was carrying on the negotiations alone, he insisted on
most of the terms which were afterwards agreed upon: first of all,
independence, and, in addition to that, the right to fish on the
Newfoundland Banks and a settlement of boundaries; but he added a point
not afterwards pressed by the others,--namely, that Canada should be
ceded to the United States. In exchange for Canada he was prepared to
allow some compensation to the Tories for their loss of property during
the war. Adams and Jay, on taking up the negotiations, dropped Canada
entirely and insisted stoutly to the end that there should be no
compensation whatever to the Tories.
Franklin's admirers have always contended that it would have been better
if Jay and Adams had kept away altogether, for in that case Franklin
would have secured all that they got for us and Canada besides. This,
however, is mere supposition, one of those vague ideas of what might
have been without any proof to support it. Franklin pressed the cession
of Canada, it is true; but there is no evidence that it would have been
granted. At that time the people of the United States appear not to have
wanted the land of snow, and ever since then the general opinion has
been that we have enough to manage already, and are better off without a
country vexed with serious political controversies with its French
population and the Roman Catholic school question.
On the whole, it would not have been well for Franklin to have continued
to conduct the negotiations alone. The situation was difficult, and the
united efforts and varied ability of at least three commissioners were
required. Neither Franklin nor Jay knew much about the fisheries
question, and they might have been forced to yield on this point. But
Adams, from his long experience in conducting litigation for the
Massachusetts fishing interests, was better prepared on this subject
than any other American, and it was generally believed by the public men
of that time that the important rights we secured on the Newfoundland
Banks were due almost entirely to his skill. He was also more familiar
with the boundary question between Maine and New Brunswick, and had
brought with him documents from Massachusetts which were invaluable.
While Jay and Franklin were acting together before the arrival of Adams,
a serious question arose about the commission of Oswald, the British
negotiator who had come over to Paris. He was empowered to treat with
the "Colonies or Plantations," and nowhere in the document was the term
United States of America used. Jay refused to treat with a man who held
such a commission. Franklin and Vergennes vainly urged that it was a
mere form, and that Great Britain had already in several ways
acknowledged the independence of the United States. Oswald showed an
article of his instructions which authorized him to grant complete
independence to the thirteen colonies, and he offered to write a letter
declaring that he treated with them as an independent power; but Jay
was inflexible, and in this he seems to have been right.
Franklin made a great mistake in not agreeing with him, for in the
suspicious state of people's minds at that time his conduct in this
respect was taken as proof positive of his subserviency to the French
court. Jay suspected that Vergennes advised accepting Oswald's
commission so as to prevent a clear admission of independence, and thus
keep the United States embroiled with England as long as possible. In
order to support his opposition to Jay, Franklin was obliged to talk
about his confidence in the French court, its past generosity and
friendliness, and also to call attention to the instruction of Congress
that the commissioners should do nothing without the knowledge of the
French government, and in all final decisions be guided by that
government's advice.
This instruction had been passed by Congress after much debate and
hesitation, and was finally carried, it is said, through the influence
of the French minister. Its adoption was a mistake; without it the
commissioners would probably of their own accord have sought the advice
of Vergennes; but a positive order to do so put them in an undignified
and humiliating position. Franklin had been so long intimate with
Vergennes and was so accustomed to consulting him that the instruction
was superfluous as to him. His reputation was so great in France and his
tact so perfect that he was in no danger of feeling overshadowed or
subdued by such consultations; but Jay and Adams so thoroughly detested
the instruction that they had made up their minds to disregard it
altogether.
"Would you break your instruction?" said Franklin.
"Yes," said Jay, "as I break this pipe," and he threw the pieces into
the fire.
Jay's firmness compelled Oswald to obtain a new commission in the proper
form, and while he deserves credit for this and also for his principle,
"We must be honest and grateful to our allies, but think for ourselves,"
he seems in the light of later evidence to have been mistaken in his
deep mistrust of the French court. His opinions have been briefly stated
by Adams: