From Louis-Guillaume Le Veillard (unpublished)
Passy, August 10, 1785

When I left you on July 27, my friend, I set sail for Le Havre, where I arrived the next day at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The rest of your packs and those of M. Houdon were there; if you had waited one more day, you would have been able to take them with you. We will take advantage of the first opportunity to have them sent to you. When one experiences a great misfortune, one only wants to return among one's family, and as all the seats in the stagecoach had been purchased for four days, I rented a return chaise. I left the same day by post, and I saw and embraced Mr. Holker the following day in Rouen; I stopped again in St. Germain to give Madame Williams the letter from her husband and give news of you to the whole Alexander family, whom I found assembled together. At 7:15 in the evening I was in Passy, but how sad it is to once again see the path by which one has led a loved one away! My wife had begun to have doubts about my return; fortunately however, she had not yet followed your advice. The following day I saw all our friends again, and nothing but questions: how is he doing, was he able to bear the journey, how far did you accompany him, where did he embark, when did he set sail? Is he comfortable? When will he arrive? When will we have news of him, etc. etc. Everyone mourns your departure; ah, if you returned, you would see how much you are loved!

I found the whole Chateau de la Muette in consternation; the furniture is gone, the King will not return there. They considered giving it to the archbishop, but this treaty is said to be broken. Madame Filleul hastily returned from Bourbonne; her fate is unknown; under these circumstances I do not know if she will take the fortepiano. I will wait until her affairs are settled, then I will ask what she means to do; if her means will not permit her to buy it, I will sell it to someone else, and I will dispose of the money according to your intentions. However, I will put this off until I have heard from you.

Adieu, my dear friend, I dare to believe that you are thinking of us at times along the way; as for us, we talk about you incessantly. These last winds, which have been westerly and violent, have greatly concerned us. Man has only a few principal thoughts to which he always returns; do believe that having known you, having lived with you, loving you with the greatest affection is first in my thoughts, and everyone close to me thinks the same way, ah, if you had been able to stay with us! But your own family has the same wish, it is only fair that they have preference; and I feel that, in many respects you will do more good in Philadelphia than here. Do not forget however that you have promised me to come back if your suffering increased and made you suppose that it would be wise to have recourse to the operation.

Also remember the sole way of preventing someone else from writing the life of Monsieur Franklin.