Franklin would have been the happiest man in Europe at the conclusion of
peace negotiations, but for his increasing bodily infirmities,
especially the gout, from which at times he suffered excruciating
agonies. He was a universal favorite, admired and honored as one of the
most illustrious men living. His house in Paris was the scene of
perpetual hospitalities. Among his visitors were the younger Pitt,
Wilberforce, Romilly, and a host of other celebrities, French and
English, especially eminent scientific men. He was then seventy-eight
years of age, but retained all the vivacity of youth. His conversation
is said to have been as enchanting as it was instructive. His wit and
humor never ceased to flow. His pregnant sentences were received as
oracles. He was a member of the French Academy and attended most of its
meetings. He was a regular correspondent of the most learned societies
of Europe.

When the time came for him to return home he was too ill to take leave
of the king, or even of the minister of foreign affairs. But Louis XVI,
ordered one of the royal litters to convey the venerable sufferer to the
coast, as he could not bear the motion of a carriage. In his litter,
swung between two mules, Franklin slowly made his way to Havre, and
thence proceeded to Southampton to embark for America. The long voyage
agreed with him, and he arrived in Philadelphia in September, in
improved health, after an absence of nine years. No one would have
thought him old except in his walk, his feet being tender and swollen
with the gout. His voice was still firm, his cheeks were ruddy, his eyes
bright, and his spirits high.

Settled in his fine house in Market Street, surrounded by his
grandchildren, and idolatrous neighbors and friends, he was a rare
exception to the rule that a prophet is not without honor save in his