Chapter Six
Minister to France, 1778–79
An Ambassador’s Life
I ENJOY’D A GOOD NEIGHBOURHOOD OF VERY AGREEABLE PEOPLE
Several months after arriving in Paris, I took lodging at Hotel de Valentinois in Passy, where I found a little leisure, free from the perpetual interruption I suffered by the crowds continually coming in, some offering goods, others soliciting for offices in our army, &c. &c.
The extreme hurry we engaged in since my arrival prevented my writing to many of my correspondents. The difficulty, delay & interruption of correspondence with those I love was one of the great inconveniences I found in living so far from home. I pitied my poor old sister Jane to be so harass’d and driven about by the enemy in Pennsylvania, for I felt a little myself the inconvenience of being driven about by my friends. I lived in France in great respect and dined every day with great folks; but I still longed for home and for repose, and would have been happy to eat Indian pudding under the hospitable roof of my friends in Philadelphia.
Mr. de Chaumont, my landlord at Passy, was one of our most early friends in France, which he also manifested by crediting us with two thousand barrels of gun powder and other military stores in 1776, before we had provided any apparent means of payment. He proposed to leave the house rent till the end of the war, and then to accept for it a price of American land from the Congress, or other settlement as they might find equivalent. This was most agreeable to me, as I enjoyed no bargain in this appointment, having been promised by a note the salary of only £500 sterling per annum with my expenses, and to be assisted by a secretary. When the Pennsylvania Assembly sent me in 1764 on the same salary, they allow’d me one year’s advance for the passage in consideration of my private affairs that must be occasion’d by my sudden departure and absence. But I received no such allowance from Congress.
Valentinois was a fine airy house, situated in a neat well-built village on a hill, within two miles of Paris, with a large garden and neighbouring woods to walk in. I had a bath in my house, besides the river in view. I walked in the garden every day, had a good appetite and slept well. I think the French cookery agreed with me better than the English, I suppose because there is little or no butter in their sauces: for I never once had the heartburn there, tho’ I ate heartily, which showed that my digestion was good. I enjoy’d a good neighbourhood of very agreeable people who appeared very fond of me. I had an abundance of acquaintances, and dined abroad six days in seven. Sundays I reserved to dine at home, with such Americans as passed that way; & I then had my grandson Benny with some other American children from his school. If being treated with all the politeness of France, & the apparent respect & esteem of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest, can make a man happy, I ought to have been so.
I GREW PERFECTLY SICK OF PORTRAITS
The clay medallion of me was the first of the kind made in France. A variety of others have been made since of different sizes; some to be set in lids of snuff boxes, and some so small as to be worn in rings; and the number sold were incredible. These, with pictures, busts, and prints (of which copies upon copies were spread everywhere) made my face as well known as that of the moon. It is said by learned etymologists that the name Doll, for the images children play with, is derived from the word IDOL; from the number of dolls now made of me, it may be truly said, in that sense, that I was i-dollized in that country.
I had, at the request of friends, sat so much and so often for painters and statuaries that I grew perfectly sick of it. I know of nothing so tedious as sitting hours in one fix’d posture. I courteously asked one friend to excuse me from another portrait. I would do it if it were necessary, but there were already so many good likenesses of my face that if the best of them were copied it would probably be better than a new one drawn from the life: any artist can add such a body to the face. Or, I told them, it might be taken from a Chamberlin’s print.84
Think how I must have appeared among the powder’d heads of Paris! Jolly, strong and hearty, very plainly dress’d, wearing my thin gray straight hair that peeped out under my only coiffure, a fine fur cap, which came down my forehead almost to my spectacles. I wished every gentleman and lady in France would have been so obliging as to follow my fashion, comb their own heads as I did mine, dismissed their friseurs, and paid me half the money they paid to them.
Besides being harass’d with too much business, I was expos’d to numberless visits, some of kindness and civility, but many of mere idle curiosity, from strangers of America and of different parts of Europe, as well as the inhabitants of the provinces who came to Paris. These devoured my hours, and broke my attention, and at night I often found myself fatigu’d without having done anything. Celebrity may for a while flatter one’s vanity, but its effects are troublesome.
As to the Latin verse that has been applied to me, Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tirannis,85 translated as “He stole the thunder from heaven, and the scepter from tyrants,” I am restrained from giving any opinion on that line, except that it ascribes too much to me, especially in what relates to the tyrant; the revolution having been the work of many able and brave men, wherein it is sufficient honour for me if I am allowed a small share.
I FOUND FRANCE A MOST AMIABLE NATION TO LIVE IN
They told me that in writing to a lady from Paris, one should always say something about the fashions. Temple observed them more than I did. He took notice that at the ball in Nantes, there were no heads less than five, and a few were seven, lengths of the face, above the top of the forehead. Yet we din’d at the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, where there were three duchesses and a countess, and no head higher than a face and a half. So it seemed the farther from Court, the more extravagant the mode.
Nevertheless, I found them a most amiable nation to live with. The Spaniards are, by common opinion, supposed to be cruel, the English proud, the Scotch insolent, the Dutch avaricious, &c. But I think the French have no national vice ascribed to them. They have some frivolities, but they are harmless. To dress their heads so that a hat cannot be put on them, & then wear their hats under their arms, and to fill their noses with tobacco, may be follies perhaps, but they are not vices. They are only the effects of the tyranny of custom. In short there is nothing wanting in the character of the Frenchman that belongs to that of an agreeable and worthy man.
SOMEBODY GAVE IT OUT THAT I LOV’D LADIES
The desire of pleasing by the perpetual use of compliments in this polite nation had so us’d up all the common expressions of approbation that they became flat and insipid, and to use them almost implied censure. Hence music, that formerly might be sufficiently prais’d when it was call’d bonne, to go a little farther they call’d it excellente, then superbe, magnifique, exquise, celeste, all which being in their turns worn out, there remains now only divine; and when that is grown as insignificant as its predecessors, I think they must return to common speech and common sense; as, from vying with one another in fine and costly paintings on their coaches, and not being able to go farther in that way, they return’d to plain carriages, painted without arms or figures, in one uniform colour.
In sum, France is the civilest nation upon the earth. Your first acquaintances endeavour to find out what you like, and they tell others. If ’tis understood that you like mutton, dine where you will find mutton. Somebody, it seemed, gave it out that I lov’d ladies; and then everybody presented me their ladies (or the ladies presented themselves) to be embrac’d, that is to have their necks kiss’d. For as to kissing of lips or cheeks it was not the mode there; the first was reckon’d rude, & the other might rub off the paint. The French ladies had, however, a thousand other ways of rendering themselves agreeable by their various attentions and civilities, & their sensible conversation.’Tis a delightful people to live with.
THE PLEASING CONVERSATION OF MADAME BRILLON
Madame Brillon was one such friend, the mistress of an amiable family living in the neighborhood, with which I spent an evening
twice in every week. She was a lady of the most respectable character and pleasing conversation. She had, among other elegant accomplishments, that of an excellent musician, and with her daughters who sang prettily, and some friends who played, she kindly entertained me and my grandson with little concerts, a dish of tea and a game of chess. Her good husband, M. Brillon, told me many stories and his conversation always cheered me. I called this my opera; for I rarely went to the opera at Paris.
Madame Brillon wished to divert me for a moment from my affairs with a little amusement. I adopted her as a good daughter, for by coming to this country I have lost the sweet company and respectful care of my own affectionate daughter. While in France, I never failed to visit her at least two evenings a week, if it was possible. I was always happy when I was with her, enjoying her sweet society, seeing her and hearing her speak. It is true that I sometimes suspected my heart of wanting to go further, but I tried to conceal it from myself. For if at my age it was not fitting to say that I was in love with a young woman, there was nothing to prevent me from confessing that I admired and loved an assemblage of all female virtues and of all admirable talents, and I loved my French daughter because she was truly worthy of love, and because she loved me. It was a form of madness to say so because it served no purpose: It earned me favors never obtained! But one must do mad things when one loves madly.86
Here below is an exchange of letters, translated into English (as I wrote a great deal of very bad French).
30 July 1777
To B. Franklin,
Madame Brillion has the honor of presenting a thousand compliments to Mr. Franklin and of sending him the little [Scottish] tune he seemed to enjoy yesterday.
It is a real source of joy for her to think that she can sometimes amuse Mr. Franklin, whom she loves and esteems as he deserves; still, she is a little miffed about the six games of chess he won so inhumanly and she warns him that she will spare nothing to get her revenge!
MADAME BRILLON
WE CAUSED GREAT INCONVENIENCE BY DETAINING YOU SO LONG IN THE BATH
Nov. 29, 1777
To Madame Brillon,
Upon returning home, I was astonished to find that it was almost eleven o’clock. I fear that because we were overly engrossed in the game of chess as to forget everything else, we caused great inconvenience to you, by detaining you so long in the bath.87 Tell me, my dear friend, how you feel this morning. Never again will I consent to start a game in your bathing room. Can you forgive me for this indiscretion?
I am sending you Monsieur Bitaube’s Homer. This lovable man is very desirous of making the acquaintance of Madame Brillon, and hearing some of her music. Might I be permitted to bring him with me next Wednesday?
B FRANKLIN
30 November 1777
To B. Franklin,
No, you did not do me any harm yesterday. I am so happy to see you that the good it does me more than balances the little fatigue of overstaying somewhat in the tub.
I will read Mr. Bitaube’s Homer, and I thank you for it, my good friend.
Farewell until Wednesday, until Saturday, until all the Wednesdays and Saturdays of all the rest of our lives.
MADAME BRILLON
“ALL GREAT MEN ARE TAINTED WITH IT: IT IS CALLED THEIR WEAKNESS”
March 7, 1778
To B. Franklin,
You were kind enough yesterday, my dear brother, to entrust me with your conversation. A minister usually arranges matters with a few to his own glory and profit. As long as he loves God, America and me above all things, I absolve him of all his sins, present, past and future; and I promise him paradise where I shall lead him along a path strewn with roses.
It is well for my penitent to know that there are seven grave sins, and of the seven, my dear brother, you commit only one. To prove this to you is easy:
The first is pride—when a sage has always done good, solely for the love of goodness and the happiness of his fellowmen, and then if there happens to be glory at the outcome of this conduct, it is not its motivation; hence you are not proud.
The second is envy—mediocre men envy the reputation, the merits, the success of superior men: it is impossible for you to be envious.
The third is avarice—moderate desires, simplicity, tidiness place you above all suspicion.
The fourth is gluttony—it does seem to me that you are fond enough of good things, but that it would be no great sacrifice for you to live like a savage chief, so you are not a glutton.
The fifth is anger—your calm soul, ever guided by reason, is flawless on this point.
The sixth is sloth—America, nay the very thunderbolt, if one could summon it as a witness, will testify that if all men resembled you, sloth would be unknown.
The seventh—I shall not name it. All great men are tainted with it: it is called their weakness. I dare say this so-called weakness removes the roughness, the austerity that unalloyed philosophy might have left with them. You have loved, my dear brother; you have been kind and lovable; you have been loved in return! What is so damnable about that? Go on doing great things and loving pretty women; provided that, pretty and lovable though they may be, you never lose sight of my principle: always love God, America, and me above all.
MADAME BRILLON
I CONFESS I BREAK THIS COMMANDMENT CONSTANTLY
To Madame Brillon
Passy, March 10, 1778
I am charm’d with the goodness of my spiritual guide, and resign myself implicitly to her conduct, as she promises to lead me to heaven in a road so delicious, when I could be content to travel thither even in the roughest of all the ways with the pleasure of her company. How kindly partial to her penitent, in finding him, on examining his conscience, guilty of only one capital sin, and to call that by the gentle name of a foible! I lay fast hold of your promise to absolve me of all sins past, present, and future, on the easy and pleasing condition of loving God, America, and my guide above all things. I am in raptures when I think of being absolv’d of the FUTURE.
People commonly speak of the Ten Commandments; I have been taught that there are twelve. The first, increase and multiply and replenish the earth. The twelfth is, a new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another. It seems to me that they are a little misplac’d, and that the last should have been the first. However, I never made any difficulty about that, but was always willing to obey them both whenever I had an opportunity. Pray tell me, my dear casuist, whether my keeping religiously these two commandments, tho’ not in the Decalogue, may not be accepted in compensation for my breaking so often one of the ten, I mean that which forbids coveting my neighbour’s wife, and which I confess I break constantly, God forgive me, as often as I see or think of my lovely confessor: And I am afraid I should never be able to repent of the sin, even if I had the full possession of her.
And now as I am consulting you upon a case of conscience, I will mention the opinion of a certain father of the church, which I find myself willing to adopt, tho’ I am not sure it is orthodox. It is this, that the most effectual way to get rid of a certain temptation is, as often as it returns, to comply with and satisfy it. Pray instruct me how far I may venture to practice upon this principle?
But why should I be so scrupulous, when you have promised to absolve me of the future! Adieu, my charming conductress, and believe me ever, with the sincerest esteem and affection,
Your most obedient humble servant,
B FRANKLIN
“A WOMAN MAY HAVE DESIRES BUT SHE MUST NOT YIELD”
March 16, 1778
To B. Franklin,
You are a man, I am a woman, and while we might think along the same lines, we must speak and act differently. Perhaps there is no great harm in a man having desires and yielding to them; a woman may have desires, but she must not yield. You have kept two very pleasant commandments religiously; you have broken another, one easily violated. My friendship, and a touch of vanity, perhaps, prompted me strongly to pardon you; but I dare not decide the q
uestion without consulting that neighbor whose wife you covet, because he is a far better casuist than I am. And then, too, as Poor Richard would say, In weighty matters, two heads are better than one.
Farewell, my dear penitent; before closing, I want to confess to you in all humility that in the matter of desire, I am as great a sinner as yourself. I have desired to see you, desired to know you, desired your esteem, desired your friendship. I have even given you mine at the very outset, in the hope of receiving a little of yours. And now, I desire that you may love me forever; this desire grows day by day in my heart and it will last all my life. But such is the compassion of God, it is said, that I have not the slightest doubt that all our desires will eventually lead us to Paradise!
MADAME BRILLON
“I HAVE CHOSEN YOU FOR MY FATHER”
September 30, 1778
To B. Franklin,
You adopt me as your daughter, just as I have chosen you for my father. In America, you say, you had a daughter who respected you and cherished you; I make up for that loss! We love our American allies, but we revere and idolize their leader. The friendship which reigns between the two peoples will always endure, because it can only be extremely useful to both of them; but if the Americans leave you in France, this union of interests will be matched by a union of souls.
The Compleated Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin (1757-1790) Page 17