Читать книгу The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Volume 1 - Бенджамин Франклин - Страница 5
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
ОглавлениеFRANKLIN began his Autobiography, the longest of his writings, during his residence in England as agent of the colonies, in the year 1771. He was at the time on a visit to the family of Dr. Jonathan Shipley, the bishop of St. Asaph, with whom he was on terms of peculiar and cordial intimacy. The part then written covers the period from his birth, in 1706, to his marriage, in 1730. It was executed to this point, he informs us, for the gratification of his own family. It afterwards was continued, at the solicitation of some of his friends, with the expectation that it would ultimately be given to the public. The second part, which is comparatively brief, was written at his residence in Passy, while Minister to France. The third part was begun in August, 1788, after his return to his home in Philadelphia, and brings the narrative down to 1757. This part ends the autobiography so far as it was printed up to 1867, when the first edition ever printed from the original manuscript was given to the public, and which contained a fourth part, consisting of a few pages written in 1789. Franklin died in the spring of the following year, and by his will left most of his papers and manuscripts, this autobiography among them, to his grandson, William Temple Franklin, who sailed for England a few months after, with the intention, as he then proclaimed, of publishing it in a collection of his grandfather’s works. This purpose was not destined to be realized, however, until after an interval of twenty-seven or eight years. Ref. 009 Meantime, and in the year following Franklin’s death, a French version of the first portion of the autobiography was published in Paris. From this point the history of this manuscript is a succession of surprises, which has scarce any parallel in ancient or modern bibliography, with the possible exception of the writings of Aristotle and the Table Talk of Martin Luther. Where the text was obtained, from which this translation was made, and by whom it was made, are secrets which the grave of time has not yet given up. Ref. 010 The Nouvelle Biographie Générale, Paris, 1858, attributes the translation to Dr. Jacques Gibelin, who, to the professions of physician and naturalist, added that of a translator from the English. Whether he or some one else made the translation is of very little consequence now. It would, however, be a satisfaction to know how he obtained the text from which he translated. The first sentence in his Preface practically concedes that it was obtained by some method which he does not think it worth his while to reveal to the public.
“I shall not enter,” he says, “into a detail of little importance to my readers—on the manner in which the original manuscript of these memoirs, which is in English, fell into my hands. From the moment I had run over it, it appeared to me to be so interesting that I do not hesitate to allow myself the pleasure of putting it into French.”
It appears by Franklin’s correspondence that copies of this first part of his autobiography were sent to two or three of his friends in Europe prior to his beginning work on the second part. It is probable—in fact, it hardly admits of a doubt, that the first French version of 1791 was made from one of these.
In a note to the Preface of this first French edition the publisher says: “Persons curious to see the Memoirs of the Private Life of Franklin in their original tongue may inscribe their names at Buisson’s, bookseller, rue Hautefeuille No. 20, for a copy of this work. It will be put to press as soon as four hundred subscribers are secured. The price for each subscriber will be 48 sols.” The requisite number of subscribers was probably not secured, for no English version of the autobiography appeared until two years later, in 1793, and then two separate translations were published in London, one edited by Dr. Price, and commonly known as the Robinson edition. In this the editor for the first time supplements the fragment of autobiography, which only comes down to 1731, with a continuation of Dr. Franklin’s life, most of which had appeared in the Columbian Magazine, Ref. 011 of Philadelphia. The greater part of this supplementary sketch was written by Dr. Henry Stuber, whose death at the early age of twenty-four, however, brought his work to a somewhat abrupt conclusion. Parsons’s edition is another translation from the French edition of Buisson. Ref. 012
There were three issues of Robinson’s edition in a short time, and it was soon reprinted in Dublin, Dundee, Edinburgh, New York, Salem, and in many other places, while of Parsons’s edition, though it contains some matter not to be found in Buisson’s edition, we have never seen a reprint.
The Robinson edition practically kept possession of the English market until 1817, when William Temple Franklin published a new edition of the autobiography in his collection of the works of his grandfather. It was taken from the copy that had been sent by Franklin to his friend Le Veillard, the mayor of Passy, one of his most devoted friends.
From this time forth the original manuscript of the autobiography went into eclipse. It was known not to be among the manuscripts in the possession of William Temple Franklin; but what had become of it—its destruction was hardly conceivable—was a mystery. Where and how it was discovered, after an interval of half a century, is one of the remarkable incidents in its remarkable history. We shall give the story here as it has been set down by the editor for another occasion.
Among my guests one day at dinner in Paris, in the summer of 1866, was the late Professor Laboulaye. He had recently translated and published a selection from the writings of Franklin, and as he had amiably sent me a copy, it naturally became one of the topics of our conversation. In the course of the entertainment, I asked my guests, who, as far as I remember, were all French gentlemen of letters, if they had ever heard, or if they had any reason to suspect, that the original manuscript of Franklin’s autobiography was in France. All answered in the negative. I then assigned some reasons for thinking that unless it had been destroyed, which, was in the highest degree improbable, it was somewhere within the limits of the empire.
1st. I said I had received the impression some years previous from Mr. Henry Stevens, a professional book-collector in London, that he had seen the manuscript in the hands of a gentleman residing in France—I had an indistinct impression that he said at Amiens,—and had only been discouraged from buying it by the price.
2d. Romilly (Sir Samuel) in his diary speaks of having looked through the autobiography of Franklin at the house of a friend whom he was visiting in Paris in 1802. Ref. 013
3d. If, as this record authorized the belief, the original manuscript was ever in France, there was every reason to presume it was there still.
4th. It was in the highest degree improbable that a manuscript of that character could be in the United States without its lodging-place being a matter of common notoriety, whereas none of Franklin’s numerous biographers profess to have had any trace of it after the death of William Temple Franklin in 1823.
5th. As William Temple Franklin embarked for Europe within a few weeks after the death of his grandfather, whose papers he inherited, and never returned to the United States, the presumption was that this manuscript was in Europe and that it was not in the United States.
M. Laboulaye seemed struck by the force of these considerations; said he had a friend at Amiens who would be sure to know if any literary treasure of that nature was concealed in the neighborhood; and if in France, whether at Amiens or not, he felt confident of being able to ascertain through some of his friends in the Academy, and he very kindly volunteered to look into the matter at once.
Weeks and months rolled on, but I heard nothing further of the manuscript.
When about leaving for England on my way to the United States in the winter of 1866-7, and after sending my family and personal baggage to the railway station, I set out in a cab to make two or three farewell calls upon some friends whose residences were not much off of my route to the station. Among them was M. Laboulaye. During our half-hour’s interview I asked him if he had ever thought to make any inquiries about the autobiography. He replied that he had, but that his friend, upon whom he specially relied, had not been able to throw any light upon the subject. He added, however, that he meant to institute some further inquiries among his associates of the Academy, and if, as certainly seemed probable, it was in France, he said he did not despair of finding it. I thanked him, gave him my address in London and in New York, and went on my way.
I had spent nearly a month in London, had arranged to sail in a few days for the United States, and had nearly abandoned all expectation of hearing any thing of the autobiography, when on the 19th of January a letter from M. Laboulaye was handed me by the postman, which informed me not only that the habitat of the manuscript had been discovered, but that it, with several other precious relics of our illustrious countryman, could be bought for a price; a large price, it is true, but a price which did not seem to me beyond their value to an American. M. Laboulaye’s letter ran as follows:
12 Janvier, 1867,34 Rue Taitbout.
Cher Monsieur Bigelow:
Eureka! J’ai trouvé, grâce à un ami, le manuscrit de Franklin et son possesseur.
M. de Senarmont, héritier de la famille Le Veillard, et qui demeure à Paris, rue de Varennes, No. 98, nous écrit qu’il possède:
1. La MS. original autograph complet (?) des mémoires de Franklin.
2. Une collection considérable de lettres de Franklin, formant un ensemble de correspondance.
3. Un portrait en pastel de Franklin, donné par lui à M. Le Veillard.
Et il demande de tout la somme de vingt-cinq mille francs. Vous voici sur la voie. C’est à vous maintenant à faire ce qui vous conviendra. Adieu! Recevez encore tous mes vœux pour votre bonheur en ce monde et dans l’autre (je parle du Nouveau Monde). Votre bien dévoué,
Ed. Laboulaye.
The next mail took from me a letter to my cherished friend, the late William H. Huntington, in Paris, enclosing Laboulaye’s note, asking him to go to No. 98 Rue de Varennes, and examine the articles referred to, and, if satisfied of their genuineness, I authorized him to offer fifteen thousand francs for them. In two or three days I received from him the following most characteristic letter:
(High private and fiducial)
22 Janvier, ’67.
Dear Mr. Bigelow:
Yours of no date whatever reached me Saturday, and that of Mr. Laboulaye, Ref. 014 the same afternoon. M. L. knows nothing more of the MSS. and portrait than what he wrote you; gave me letter of presentation to M. Senarmont, whom he does not know, in the which he mentioned your name with full titles, and addressed it 78 Rue de Verneuil.
It was late to go there that day. A “glance at the map” will show you that it is the ¼ St. Germain, and so I did not go Sunday.
Fytte Second
After breakfast and “girding myself up”—how much easier one feels after it,—I took the letter in my hand on this blessed day, and got myself up in the highest number in the Rue de Verneuil, which I found, like Franklin’s Memoirs, broken off some time before 78. Whereupon “I fetched a compass,” as St. Paul would say, and ran for Rue de Varennes, where I presently made No. 98, and hailing the concierge, found I had reached port this time. O such a concierge—both he and his female! reputable, civil, in a comfortable room. While getting up a broad clean staircase, did hear bell ringing in the court. By the time I reached the door au 2me, a gentle domestic was already there—The dining-room was thoroughly warmed:—through the open door, into the salon; a carpet continuous with the parquet, and comfortable chairs, and other quietly, not newly rich furnishing, and still another fire, offered so many peaceful indications that here was not a shop to buy things cheap in. M. de S. presently appeared from up-stairs (occupy two floors, then!). Handsome (not pretty), 33 à 37 years of age, courteous, shrewd I guess, but really a gentleman. He said that the MSS. were:
I. The original Autobiography, with interlinings, erasures, etc., from which the copy was made that was sent to W. T. Franklin, and the first French translation: It is in folio, bound, complete.
II. Letters, mostly, he thinks, to M. Veillard, not relating to politics, at least not specially political—friendly letters,—and not, he thinks, ever communicated to Mr. Sparks or other book-making person. The portrait is by Duplessis, and, according to “a tradition in the family,” the original, not the replica: it was given by B. F. to M. Veillard.
He had neither MSS. nor portrait in the house; they are at his cousin’s (who is, as I understand, part owner of them). On Wednesday I am to go to No. 98 Rue de V. again, when he will have them there or will accompany me to his cousin to see them. He did reside formerly in Amiens, where he or his father had these things. An American, he thinks, did come some years ago to see the portrait there; name of that stranger unknown; also his quality, whether merely an inquisitive or an acquisitive traveller; is ready but not eager to sell (if he knows himself) at 25,000 francs the lot; does not want to sell any one of the three articles separately. Does not know that they are mercantilely worth 25,000 francs, but intimates that he shall run the risk of waiting for or provoking the chance of that price being given. Has been applied to by a photographer (this some time ago) to photograph the portrait: declined proposition at the time, but now conceives that it might gratify curiosity of Americans coming to Exposition next May to see copies of it, or the original hung up there!
I fancy that this Universal French-Exposition idea stands more in the way of reducing the price than any thing else.
I write you all these things so that, if you see fit, you can let me know before Wednesday noon whether 15,000 francs is your last price. Please write me by mail any suggestions or directions you will: also how, in case he does yield to the charm of 15,000 down, and I can get the MSS. and portrait in time, I am to send them to you. Suppose M. de S. yields on Wednesday the 23d, I get your money Saturday the 26th, and the articles that night. I express them Sunday morning the 27th. And seeing we are in France, that is the quickest time we could hope to make. I must hurry now to catch the mail. Yours truly,
W. H. Huntington.
On the 24th of January I received a second letter from Huntington, giving the results of his first view of what he terms the ‘Franklinienacs.’
Paris(8 Rue de Boursault),23 January, 1867.
Dear Mr. Bigelow:
I have seen the Frankliniseries (say Franklinienacs). The autobiography is writ on large foolscap, bound very simply, but without the slightest lesion of the pages. This is undoubtedly the original manuscript, with interlining, erasures, marginal notes, and blots (of which one smasher, that was smatched thin nearly over one whole page) of B. F. of the period. It is complete in both parts. The French publication of 1791 stops with the first part, you recollect—and more complete than the “clean copy,” from which W. T. Franklin printed the two parts: i. e. it has several more pages after the arrival in London in 1757, where W. T. F.’s print stops. I should think there are other passages in this MS. omitted by W. T. F. or by the writer of the clean copy. The MS. closes with these words: “They were never put in execution.”
Of the letters only two or three are from B. F.—one dated Philadelphia, 1787, another, ditto, 1788, 16 or 14 are from W. Temple Franklin, 2 from Sarah Bache, 2 from B. F. Bache: all addressed to M. Veillard. I judge, from what M. Paul de Senarmont said, that they do not relate to political subjects. I had not time to read any of them, having to go to M. George de Senarmont, the cousin, to see the portrait.
It is nearly a half-length, life-size pastel, perfectly well preserved, under glass, not a franc of additional value from the frame. It is not signed. A labelled black and gilt statement, which is undoubtedly true, is attached to the bottom of the frame, and reads nearly as follows: “Portrait de Benjamin Franklin, âge 77, donné par lui même à M. Veillard. Peint par J. S. Duplessis, 1783.” I have no doubt of the genuineness of the portrait. M. S. says that the family tradition is that this was the original, and the other one, which was in possession of W. T. Franklin (?), the replica. Duplessis had a good reputation as a portrait painter. The Biographie Nouvelle cites, among twelve of his most esteemed portraits, one of Franklin in the “Galerie Pamard à Avignon.” The one that Mr. Edward Brooks bought of J. de Mancy, or his heirs, a few years ago, was claimed to be by Duplessis. That was in oils—it was offered to me by old de Mancy, in 1852, for 2,000 francs. There was a break in his history of it, that led me to suspect that it might be a copy.
M. de Senarmont holds firmly to the fixed price of 25,000 francs: agrees that it may be an extravagant one, but will not set any other till after the Exposition. He means to advertise Americans here of the manuscripts and portrait, and where they may be seen—depositing them for that end with some bookseller or other party. Meantime he is quite willing to keep my address, and in case he does not sell at Exposition season, to talk further about the matter. The manuscripts and portrait are, as I understand him, an undivided family property. . . .
Immediately upon the receipt of the foregoing I sent Mr. Huntington a check on John Munroe & Co., in Paris, for 25,000 francs, and told him to buy the collection on as favorable terms as possible, but not to leave without it, and when bought, to forward by the first conveyance to London, that it might be sure to reach me before I sailed.
To this I received, on the 28th, the following letter:
Paris(8 Rue de Boursault),January 27, 1867.
Ever Honored:
My passage out from apartment in search of breakfast this morning was obstructed by the concierge handing your letter of 24th. Yours of 22d, leaving all to my discretion, I thought it discreetest not to spend so large a sum as 25 m. frs. without positive orders. These last instructions being decisive, I gat myself;
Onely, to Munroe & Co.’s, where I showed Mr. Richards (who had his hat on) your enabling act to them for my drawing of Pactolian draughts to the amount of 25 m. frs.
2ly, to Legoupy, a printseller of my acquaintance, on Blvd. de la Madeleine, to ask how best the portrait of B. F. could be safely packed, with or without the glass. “With,” quoth he decidedly. Then I asked if he would charge himself with the packing, he being much in the way of sending large framed and glazed engravings out of the city; and he said he would.
Threely, to the S. E. R. way and package and express office, to ask at what latest minute they would receive and forward packages to London, which proved to be 5 o’clock p.m.
Four mostly to breakfast. Presently after that refection I girded up my loins and took voiture for 98 Rue de Varennes, where, coming into the presence of M. Paul de Senarmont, I spake, saying: “I will take the Franklineaments and MSS. on these three conditions: I. That I take them immediately; II. That you deduct 200 francs from the 25,000 frs. to pay my expenses for going with them to London; III. That you furnish—sending it to me hereafter for Mr. Bigelow—the history of the transitions of the three Franklinienacs from M. Veillard’s to your hands.
All of which being agreed to, I wrote then and there an order, draught, draft, or whatever the name of the paper may be, on J. M. & Co. for 24,800 francs in his favor at 3 days’ vision. Then P. de S. and the literary remains of B. F., and self with cane, being bestowed in the voiture (No. of the same not preserved), we careered away to cousin George de Senarmont’s, No. 23 Rue de Sèvres. While Paul went in unto George, to the bedroom of him—for George was poorly, it seems, this morning, and late abed; leastway, late to breakfast—I ventured to relieve B. F. from the state of suspense he was in on the wall of the salon, screwed out of his frame the iron ring, and, in the distraction of the moment, gave it to Cousin George’s housekeeper. That was what B. F. calls an erratum, for I have often use for that sort of screw—which the housekeeper, let us hope, could not care for. Repacking, now, Paul de S., the MSS., umbrella, cane, and B. F. his eidolon, which I sustained ever with one hand, into the carriage, I bade cocher drive to 7 Rue Scribe, where I presented M. P. de S. to Mr. J. Munroe, to whom I committed your enabling note and identified Paul. Then P. de S. wished good voyage to London, and the cocher asked, as I was delicately handling B. F.’s portrait, if that was the Franklin who perished in the Northern Seas. Queer but disappointing. Cocher evidently took a lively interest in the frozen party, and but a cold, indifferent one in the to him unheard-of philosopher. Now straight to Legoupy’s whose packer declared he could have all ready by 4 o’clock. I did not believe him, but by way of encouragement pretended to, and held out to him as reward, in case of success, that I would gladly contribute something to the Washington Monument, which, let us hope, will never be completed.
There was time enough between this and five o’clock to go to the Legation, but small chance of finding Mr. Dix there. So I went to the consulate and offered David Ref. 015 to pay his passage and expenses if he would go with B. F. to London to-night. David would gladly but could not; had infrangible pre-engagements for this evening; I almost found, but missed another man, who would, it was thought, take charge of the box and surely deliver it Sunday, for 50 francs. During these entrefaites, four o’clock sounded. At ¼ past, the caisse was on the back of Legoupy’s boy following your servant up the Boulevard. The very best I could do at the R. and express office was to obtain the most positive assurance, that a special messenger should take the box from Cannon Street to Cleveland Square Ref. 016 before noon on Monday. There is no delivery at any price on Sunday. I was on the point of deciding—what I had been debating ever since morning—to take a go and return ticket and carry box and baggage to London myself. But you know how I hate travelling at all times. On leaving the express office, I passed a brief telegrammatic sentence to your address, through the window of Grand Hotel T. bureau. The gentleman who counted its letters estimated them at 6 francs, which is more, proportionately, than what you paid for B. F.’s MSS. and flattering to me. If I am ever able, I shall set up a telegraph wire, and dance on to fortune.
Although my way along the quais and other marts where books do congregate, are not as they were when you were my fellow pilgrim, yet are they still not all without pleasantness. Thus, coming away from my annual visit to the neuvaine fête of St. Genevieve three weeks ago, I fell upon the rummest bronze medallion of B. Franklin (hitherto quite unheard of by this subscriber) that ever you could conceive of. And yet another day, one of those days lapsed last week from the polar circles into the more temperate society of our Paris time, I clutched with numb fingers a diminutive little 4to of pp. 48 with this title: “La Science du Bonhomme Richard, par M. Franklin: suivie des commandements de l’Honnête Homme, par M. Fintry—prix quatre sols. Se vend à Paris, chez Renault, Libraire, Rue de la Harpe.—1778.” So, another day, was all my homeward walk a path of exceeding peace by reason of the primary, pre-adamite, genuine, juvenile, original Éloge de Franklin hugged under my arm, like healing in the wing. But the half of the enjoyment of these good gifts of fortune fails me, in that I have now no one to congratulate me or hate me for their acquisition.
M. de Senarmont promises me a letter giving the historique of the triad of Franklin treasures, from the time of M. de Veillard to his possession of them. It will not amount to much—not from lack of willingness on his part, but because the special sense in the case is wanting in him. A dry, authenticating certificate, however, I will insist on having, and will forward it to your American address, which do not forget to advertise me of from Liverpool or London. M. de S. asks me to ask you, if you have the Duplessis photographed, to send him two or three cards; please add one other or two for me, since you will be apt to send them to my address. I shall be glad to have word from you, though in your flitting hurry it must be brief, from London, and much gladder to have news from America that you and yours are all safely and soundly arrived there.
With best regards and good wishes to all your house, I rest
Yours truly,
W. H. Huntington.
Here followeth an account of ye expenditures, outlays, and disbursements of ye Franklin Expedition.
| FRANCS | |
| To a chariot and ye horseman thereof. Hire of the vehicle and pourboire, as it were oats to the driver for the greater speed | 5 |
| To packing B. Franklin under glass and in MSS. with extra haste and yet care | 9 |
| To the binding of B. F. on a boy his back and porterage of the same | 1 |
| To studiously brief telegrammatic phrase sent to London | 6 |
| To arduous sperrits (with water) taken for sustentation of the body thys day | 0.50 |
| Condamnèd tottle | 21.50 |
On the day following the receipt of the foregoing note I received the following certificate of authentication from M. de Senarmont:
Paris, 27 Janvier, 1867.
Monsieur:
J’ai l’honneur de vous remettre ci-contre une note de tous les renseignements que j’ai pu recueillir sur le manuscrit de Franklin dont M. Huntington s’est rendu hier acquérir en votre nom.
Je suis heureux de vous voir possesseur de ces précieux souvenirs, et du beau portrait du fondateur de la liberté de votre patrie.
La rapidité avec laquelle j’ai été obligé de remettre le portrait à M. Huntington m’a empêché de le faire reproduire par la photographie comme j’en avais l’intention. Dans le cas où vous ferez faire cette reproduction je vous serais bien reconnaissant de vouloir bien m’en envoyer trois exemplaires.—J’ai l’honneur de vous témoigner, Monsieur, l’expression de ma plus haute considération.
P. de Senarmont.
98 Rue de Varennes.
Monsieur John Bigelow,
Ancien Ministre des États-Unis.
Les manuscrits de mémoires de Franklin est un in-folio de 220 pages écrit à uni-marge, sur papier dont tous les cahiers ne sont pas uniformes.
M. le Veillard, gentilhomme ordinaire du Roi, Maire de Passy, était intime ami du Docteur Franklin. Il avait vécu avec lui à Passy (près Paris) dans une société de tous les jours, pendant le temps de Franklin en France à l’époque de la guerre de l’indépendance américaine, et c’est de sa patrie que le docteur lui envoya, comme gage d’amitié, la copie de ses mémoires échangé depuis contre l’original.
Le manuscrit original est unique.
M. William Temple Franklin, petit-fils de Benjamin Franklin, l’a recueilli au décès de son aïeul qui lui avait légué tous ses écrits. Lorsque M. Temple vient en France pour y faire l’édition qu’il a publié, il demanda à M. le Veillard sa copie pour la faire imprimer, parcequ’elle lui parut plus commode pour le travail typographique, à cause de sa netteté. Il donna à M. Veillard en échange de sa copie le manuscrit original entièrement écrit de la main de Franklin.
L’original était cependant plus complet que la copie, ce que M. Temple n’avait pas vérifié. On en trouve la preuve au 2e volume de la petite édition des Mémoires en 2 volumes, en 18mo, donnée par Jules Renouard, à Paris, en 1828. On y lit, en tête d’une suite qu’il fait paraître pour la première fois, une note (page 21), où il déclare devoir cette suite à la communication que la famille Le Veillard lui a donné du manuscrit.
L’inspection seule en démontre l’authenticité à l’appui de laquelle viennent d’ailleurs des preuves positives tirées de différentes pièces; telles que: 3 lettres du Dr. Franklin à, M. le Veillard, 11 lettres de M. William Temple Franklin et diverses lettres de Benjamin Franklin Bache, de Sarah Bache, sa femme, d’un libraire qui voulait acquérir le manuscrit de M. le Veillard en 1791, etc.
M. le Veillard, qui est l’auteur de la traduction française des Mémoires de Franklin, a conservé le manuscrit autographe avec le même sentiment qui déterminé son ami à lui envoyer ses mémoires encore inédits.
Après la mort de M. le Veillard, qui périt sur l’échafaud révolutionnaire en 1794, le manuscrit a passé à sa fille: an décès de celle-ci, en 1834, il est devenu la propriété de son cousin M. de Senarmont, dont le petit-fils a cédé le 26 Janvier, 1867, à Mr. John Bigelow, ancien Ministre des États-Unis à Paris.
Le manuscrit est accompagné d’un beau portrait au pastel par Duplessis. Franklin avait posé pour ce portrait pendant son séjour à Passy et en avait fait cadeau à M. le Veillard.
P. de Senarmont.
Paris, le 26 Janvier, 1867.
Early on Monday the 28th of January, I drove to Charing Cross Station, where I expected to find the precious and costly parcel of which Huntington had advised me the consignment. There I was told that the Continental parcels were usually delivered at the Cannon Street Station. To the Cannon Street Station I then made my way as fast as I could be transported, but was greatly vexed to be told on arriving there that nothing had been heard of my parcel. While leaving the station, uncertain what to do next, but feeling certain that something needed to be done and at once, it occurred to me that the person to whom the parcel had been entrusted in Paris had assured Mr. Huntington that it should be sent from Cannon Street directly upon its arrival, to Cleveland Square. I immediately returned to the station, repeated the paragraph to this effect in Huntington’s letter to the person in charge, and insisted that the parcel must be there. He asked what it consisted of. I told him generally. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘there is a portrait here, but it is consigned to one of our clerks who is away at this moment and not expected back until four o’clock.’ He then showed me a bill of lading for a portrait. I felt greatly relieved and now at liberty to be indignant that I should have been compelled to wait for a parcel booked at Paris at 5 p.m. on Saturday, until 4 p.m. of the following Monday. I disregarded the assurances that were now showered upon me that the parcel should be promptly sent to me on the clerk’s return. I said I would wait till the hour appointed, to insure the minimum of risk of further delays and anxiety.
While loitering about the station a man in railway uniform approached and requested me to call again at the office. There I was informed that the parcel had just come in. Where precisely the lying began and where it ended I never knew nor cared to inquire, so absorbed was I in getting the treasure into my possession. I immediately took it, heavy as it was; put it into the cab myself—I would allow no one else to touch it,—and drove off triumphantly to Cleveland Square.
Several months elapsed after my return to the United States before a propitious occasion presented itself for me to verify the correctness of the statement in M. de Senarmont’s note, that my manuscript was more complete than the copy which had been used in preparing the edition published by William Temple Franklin and copied by Dr. Sparks. It had not occurred to me that the text had been tampered with in England after it had left the writer’s hand. A very cursory examination of it, however, awakened my suspicions, and I availed myself of my earliest leisure to subject the Memoirs to a careful collation with the edition which appeared in London in 1817, and which was the first and only edition that ever purported to have been printed from the manuscript. The results of this collation revealed the curious fact that more than twelve hundred separate and distinct changes had been made in the text, and, what is more remarkable, that the last eight pages of the manuscript were omitted entirely.
Many of these changes are mere modernizations of style; such as would measure some of the modifications which English prose had undergone between the days of Goldsmith and Southey. Some, Franklin might have approved of; others he might have tolerated; but it is safe to presume that very many he would have rejected without ceremony.
I immediately prepared a correct edition of the autobiography for the press, and it was published by Messrs. J. B. Lippincott & Co., of Philadelphia, in 1867, when this autobiography, after an interval of more than seventy years since its author’s death, was for the first time given to the public as it was written. It is with the assent and by the courtesy of the Messrs. Lippincott & Co. that we are now permitted to reproduce in this collection the only correct version of, with a single exception, the most widely popular production of Franklin’s genius. Ref. 017
The following translation of a letter from William Temple Franklin to M. le Veillard, written a few days after his grandfather’s death, will conclude all that need be recited here of the history of this famous manuscript: Ref. 018
Philadelphia, 22 May, 1790.
You have already learned, my dear friend, the loss which you and I, and the world, have experienced, in the death of this good and amiable papa. Although we have long expected it, we were none the less shocked by it when it arrived. He loved you very tenderly, as he did all your family, and I do not doubt you will share my just sorrow. I intended writing you the details of his death by M. de Chaumont, but the duty of arranging his affairs, and especially his papers, prevents my answering your last, as well as the one which your daughter was pleased to write me, accompanying her work. I have been touched with this mark of her condescension and friendship, and I beg you to testify to her my gratitude until I have an opportunity of writing to her, which will certainly be by the first occasion for France. Now, as I am about writing, her goodness will awaken me. This letter will reach you by way of England.
I feel it my duty to profit by this occasion to inform you that my grandfather, among other legacies, has left all his papers and manuscripts to me, with permission to turn them to what profit I can. Consequently, I beg you, my dear friend, to show to no one that part of his Life which he sent you some time since, lest some one copy and publish it, which would infinitely prejudice the publication, which I propose to make as soon as possible, of his entire Life and of his other works. As I have the original here of the part which you have, it will not be necessary for you to send it to me, but I beg you at all events to put it in an envelope, well sealed, addressed to me, in order that by no accident it may get into other hands.
If, however, it should be necessary to assist the person who will pronounce his eulogy at the Academy, you may lend it for that purpose, with the stipulation that no copy of it shall be made, and with such other precautions as you deem necessary.
The editor’s only excuse for laying this history before the public with such fulness, is his conviction that the time is at hand, if not already come, when no detail relating to the life or the writings of Franklin, however minute, will be deemed trivial or unimportant. If to any of the readers of these pages this excuse shall seem inadequate, the editor throws himself upon his indulgence.
In addition to the continuation of the Memoirs which was overlooked by William Temple Franklin, the editor was so fortunate as to find in the Le Veillard collection a skeleton sketch of the topics which Dr. Franklin originally proposed to treat in the autobiography. It was, doubtless, the first outline of the work. It is written upon a letter sheet, the first three pages in black ink and in the hand of a copyist, while the concluding seven lines on the fourth page, beginning with “Hutchinson’s Letters,” are in red ink, and in the hand of Franklin himself.
A line is drawn with a pen through the middle of the first page of the manuscript down to the words “Library erected—manner of conducting the project—its plan and utility.” As these are the topics which conclude the first part of the Memoirs, terminating at page 87 of the manuscript, the line was probably drawn by Franklin when he had reached that stage of his work, that he might the more easily know with what topic to resume it when he should have occasion to do so.
We give this outline as an introduction to the Memoirs.
It will be found extremely interesting, first, as showing how systematically Franklin set about the execution of the task of which these Memoirs are the result; and, secondly, for the notions it gives us of the unexecuted portion of his plan.
The printed manuscript ends with his departure to England as agent of the Colony of Pennsylvania, to settle the disputes about the proprietary taxes, in 1757; while the Outline comes down to the conclusion of his diplomatic career, of course embracing the most interesting portion of his life. No one can glance over the subjects that were to have been treated in the succeeding pages of the Memoir without experiencing a new pang of regret at their incompleteness.
