I received your letter of Feb. 17 on the 25th of last month. I did not commit any imprudence, and I am not in the Bastille, but since my letter of June 13, I have sent three others: one on September 15, with M. Bourgoin; but I think that since, he wanted to present it to you himself, he held on to it in New York for two months at least and may perhaps still hold it. The second one was on Nov. 30, and the third, on Jan. 3. Therefore you see that you do not need to imagine extraordinary events to clear me of blame, and I hope that a few of these epistles will have finally brought you my justification.
I acquitted myself of all your commissions: M. de Barbançon received his seeds and thanks you; M. le Duc de la Rochefoucauld, wise, good and your friend as always, finds himself in a whirlwind of business. Our current state of affairs, still alarming, causes frequent assemblies of parliament and the Peers; he could not be more appreciative of your remembering him, and you have here all the friends you left, plus those who have reached the age of reason since then. M. de la Rochefoucauld and I both regret the two memoirs that you announced in two letters, which you omitted to enclose, the one on the retaining of the forts by the English, and your latest speech to the grand [Constitutional] convention; we have the latter but I fear it is not accurate.
We in this country do not entirely approve, either, of the results of the grand convention. We think that one could have, and perhaps should have, been content with amending the first federal constitution, which did not give wide enough powers to the congress and did not sufficiently distinguish between the legislative and executive powers. We do not find pressing reasons for its separation into two bodies, and we believe that many objections can be made about the different ways of composing them. We do not believe that the senators should not stay in office for six years, that the congress should not fix its own salary, and that it is necessary that the period for the state of the budget be determined ahead of time.
Regarding the President, his power frightens us very much as well: he personally commands on land and sea, he wields executive power without counsel, he has the power to grant reprieves, and nobody, perhaps not even a collective body, should have this. Finally, what particularly astonishes us is the possibility of staying in office indefinitely. If this possibility is realized, even with respect to yourself, my dear friend, it seems to me an example of the greatest danger, and the recent history of the Stadtholder does not change my opinion.
M. Dailly, whom I had told you was ill, is doing much better; but he has completely left Passy. Madame de Lessert and her daughter, excellent women, like my own, like Madame Bache, women whom you would love as you love the first two, are staying in his house. Le Comte Crillon and M. Dailly are procureurs syndics in the provincial assembly of Ile-de-France. As for me, the entire community of Passy gave me their trust, and your friend, who thinks that they do him an honor, has accepted to be the mayor of his village. If this side of my existence is not quite as brilliant as yours, I may have the advantage over you of having right near me four or five excellent women, whereas you likely have only one.
Ah! Your memoirs, my dear friend, I entreat you, I beg you, do not put off this work so long. It has been more than four years since you promised it to me; it was far along in 1785, and if I had sailed with you to America, I would have had it in debarking from the ship. A thousand scribblers write false and disturbing anecdotes about Monsieur Franklin. The Baron de Trenk, that famous victim of the distrust and despotism of the King of Prussia, has published that during his journey in France, he knew Monsieur Franklin, that he is the latter's close friend, and that he [Franklin] and M. de St. Germain made the most profitable propositions and the greatest solicitations that he [Baron de Trenk] go to America. Your biography is thus important and necessary; it is especially so for your tranquillity, for I will not cease to persecute you until I have it in my hands.
It will always pain me greatly, despite your necessities, to grant you the need for taxes on commerce and customs, and I think that the difficulties of raising a territorial tribute are not as great as you imagine. First, the right to be elected, and even to vote, must be taken away from any inhabitant who does not produce the receipt of his tax. What is more, your Americans have enough enlightenment to perceive that one's security and that of one's goods are the principal motives for the gathering of men in society. But the maintenance of this security requires expenditures to which everyone must contribute, and those who do not fulfill this should not enjoy its benefits at the expense of others. Thus there should be no help from justice for those who neglect to pay; they can be mistreated, robbed, their lands can be taken from them with impunity, and if these troubles lead them back to their duty, they will only obtain justice for the time after the date of their payment. I believe that this perfectly just method would allow no one to fall behind in payment without a valid, legally recognized excuse. It spares all costs, all trouble, it is the immediate and natural consequence of the wrongdoing and should be employed everywhere.
I thank you, on behalf of my country and myself, for your wishes and for your hopes, but I greatly fear that they will not be fulfilled. We are in the most critical and alarming crisis. There would still be a way to save everything; but it will not be utilized. Necessity might be able to bring it, but it would be more sure and much quicker if it were voluntary.
Yes, my dear friend, I esteem you, I respect you and aside from my wife, I love you more than any other living creature. I miss you every moment; the desire to join you will never leave me, and I meditate unceasingly on ways of doing this. But the ties of a family, their interests, and their wishes which I must respect, the difficulty in extricating myself from the sort of prosperity that Providence has given me— none of these things leave me any hope. Without obstacles, I would be in Philadelphia at present. I would have difficulty in learning the language, but I would be with you, and even if we would not know a word, you of French, and me of English, I am sure that we would always understand each other.