Prelude to Glory, Vol. 4

by Ron Carter

“The king has received the news. And, upon receiving it, the king fell into agonies.”

  Walpole straightened in his chair and tossed his quill beside the scrawled words. He studied them in silence for five full minutes, while Robert watched his every expression. Then Walpole picked up his quill once more, to begin the scratching out of a word here, a thought there, adding, refining the flow, the adjectives, until it all fit together to create the impression he wanted.

  One line remained unchanged. “The king fell into agonies.”

  * * * * *

  The clatter of horses’ hooves and iron rims on buggy wheels against the cobblestones brought Ben Franklin to the window of his home in Passy, a small, beautiful, quaint village within easy distance of both Paris and Versailles. Franklin pushed aside the curtain and watched the driver come back on the reins to the two horses. The buggy slowed and stopped with the horses stamping their feet, blowing vapor from their nostrils.

  The carriage door burst open, and Silas Deane stepped to the street. He dug coins from a leather purse, paid the driver, and turned to hurry up the brick walk to Franklin’s door. At his rapid knock, Franklin called, “Come in, Silas.”

  Deane pushed the door open and was unbuttoning his heavy overcoat while he spoke.

  “You’ve heard the news?”

  “About Burgoyne?”

  “We defeated his whole army! They’re all our prisoners, he with them.”

  “So I’m informed.”

  Deane tossed his overcoat over the back of a chair. “All of France is celebrating. You’d think it was their victory, not ours.”

  “In a way, it is.”

  “This changes everything! The question is, how do we best use it?”

  Franklin nodded. “Well said. Any suggestions?”

  “Somehow we’ve got to see King Louis. I doubt he can find a way to avoid joining us now.”

  Franklin gestured. “Take a seat. Coffee? Chocolate?”

  Deane shook his head.

  Franklin went on. “We’ll see the king, but all in good time. First we’ve got to persuade Vergennes to put this before the king on exactly the right footing. France has to recognize us as an independent nation, with rights and powers to treaty. Then they’ll have to agree to declare war on England, not just assist us with men and equipment. And finally, they’ll have to sign an open alliance with us with mutual guarantees. They’ll provide sufficient men and ships to defeat England. Getting all that done in the right order will take some thought.”

  “Have you heard from Vergennes?”

  “Nothing significant. I’ll arrange an audience with him as soon as we’ve done a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  Franklin gestured to his desk in the corner. “I received a letter from Lord Stormont in London. Apparently he heard about the loss of Burgoyne’s army several days ago. His letter openly asks us to meet with him at once, to discuss what we must have to put aside our differences and return to the English empire.”

  “Have you answered it?”

  “No. At the time, I didn’t know what to say. I do now.”

  “What?”

  “At the moment, nothing at all. I think Vergennes ought to see that letter. The quicker the better. If anything will bring him into line instantly, it ought to be the thought that we might be making arrangements with England to rejoin them. We can’t forget that Vergennes’s one great dream in life is to avenge the humiliation France suffered when they surrendered to England to end the Seven Years’ War. That was 1763. For fourteen years they’ve waited, and it’s my judgment they see us as their last great hope to give England what England gave them back then.”

  “Then let’s get the letter copied and delivered.”

  “We will. But with it will be two other documents. I received the news about Burgoyne from Jonathan Austin. You’ve met him. He’s a ship owner who has substantial trade with France. His report is far too long to set in print, so I’ve already drafted a twenty-two-line statement for Vergennes. The other document we’ll need is nearly finished. It’s a detailed summary of what Britain lost when we defeated Burgoyne.”

  Franklin paused to take a deep breath. “It’s impressive. Did you know they lost nine thousand two hundred and three soldiers—British, German, Canadian, and loyalists—killed, wounded, or captured? Plus deserters? They gave up more than one hundred forty cannon, and close to ten thousand muskets. Gunpowder also, and tents, uniforms, food supplies, shoes, boots, money.” Again he paused and a faint smile showed. “Among the prisoners were four members of their parliament!”

  Deane reared back in his chair. “We got four of their parliament?”

  Franklin chuckled and nodded. “A tragedy, wouldn’t you say? I’ll have that document finished by two o’clock. Would you care to accompany me to Versailles to deliver all three documents to Vergennes today?”

  In the cold midafternoon sunlight, Deane waited while Franklin laboriously lowered his seventy-two-year-old body from the carriage to the cobblestones, then turned to tell the driver to wait. They walked to the front door of the building housing the foreign ministry offices of Comte de Vergennes, and five minutes later were seated across the ornate desk from the slender, immaculate Vergennes.

  Franklin nodded graciously. “My thanks for allowing us to visit on such short notice.”

  “It is my pleasure. Was there something pressing?”

  Franklin glanced above Vergennes’s head at the huge oil painting of King Louis XVI, then back to Vergennes. “Not pressing, but significant. I’m sure you’ve heard of the downfall of General Burgoyne?”

  Vergennes’s expression remained calm, controlled. “Yes. A few days ago.”

  “It seems his defeat has shifted the affairs of the world somewhat. I didn’t know if you were aware what his surrender cost the British, so I took the privilege of making a somewhat detailed list.” He chuckled. “It seems we are now holding captive four members of the British parliament. I doubt any of them expected that outcome when they joined that august body.”

  He leaned forward to lay the document on the near edge of the polished desk. “In addition, I’ve prepared a brief extract of the message I received from America, outlining the details of Burgoyne’s surrender.” He laid that document on top of the first one.

  “And, I thought you might take an interest in this letter received lately from Lord Stormont in his official position as England’s ambassador to France.” He also laid that letter on the desk.

  Vergennes caught himself in time to retain control. He did not reach for the Stormont letter. He smiled mechanically. “The letter concerns France?”

  Franklin shook his head. “No. Not directly. It simply asks what we Americans want, short of total freedom, to come back to the British empire. I haven’t answered it because I didn’t know what to say. I’m still not certain.”

  Vergennes straightened in his chair. “I very much appreciate your consideration in sharing all this with me. May I have time to study this matter out?”

  “Of course. I will be delighted to hear from you when you are ready.”

  Back in the carriage, Franklin leaned out the window to call orders to the driver. “Would you drive down a short distance and stop?”

  “Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Near a tavern, if you can find one. You can drink some hot rum while we wait.”

  Forty minutes later, with Silas Deane becoming increasingly nervous, Franklin suddenly leaned forward, peering out the carriage window. The unmistakable, slender figure of Vergennes hurried from his building to a waiting carriage. Franklin adjusted his bifocals as Vergennes slammed the carriage door, and the horses lunged into their collars to set the carriage in motion, rocking as it sped up the street.

  Franklin turned to Deane. “You can go inside and get the driver now. Vergennes has left for Paris to show our handiwork to the king. It shouldn’t take long.”

  At noon two days later, a messenger appeared at Franklin’s door, hat
in hand. “The Comte de Vergennes, foreign minister of France, inquires would it be possible for you to visit his office?”

  Franklin raised his eyebrows. “When?”

  “At your earliest convenience. Hopefully today.”

  At half past two o’clock, Franklin and Deane took their places opposite Vergennes in his office. Vergennes leaned forward, forearms on the desk, fingers interlaced.

  “The king received your documents most favorably. He has authorized me to deliver the following message. He is determined to acknowledge the independence of the United States, and to enter into a treaty of amity and commerce, as well as any others that are appropriate. He committed France to support your rise to independence with every means and power available.”

  Deane gaped. Franklin smiled. They’re ready. They’ll go to war with England, and they’ll give us the men and the ships we need. “It is most humbling. I presume that proper documents will be prepared to make this arrangement known to the world?”

  “The king requests the honor of your presence at an official signing. Six days from today at eleven o’clock in the morning, in this office. The king will appear personally to attach his signature and the official seal of France.”

  On the sixth day, the street in front of the French foreign ministry offices was jammed by ten-thirty a.m. Soldiers of the King’s Guard lined the walkway from the street to the door, and political figures of every nationality crowded the streets for fifty yards in both directions. Franklin’s coach was delayed ten minutes covering the last one hundred yards.

  Inside, Vergennes’s office was crowded with dignitaries from most European countries, each dressed in finery intended to outshine that of the man next to him. Powdered wigs abounded. King Louis was cloaked in a mink-lined, bejeweled robe that cost the people of France most dearly. The room quieted when Franklin walked in. He was dressed in a simple homespun brown suit, white stockings, square-toed leather shoes. His long, thinning hair was brushed back, hanging loose, and his bifocals were perched on the end of his nose. No one in the room presented a more striking figure.

  Vergennes brokered the meeting. Formalities behind them, copies of the documents were laid before Franklin and the king at the same time. The king knew every word. Franklin took but thirty seconds to scan them, then raised his face, smiling.

  King Louis spoke first. “Firmly assure your Congress of my friendship. I hope that this will be for the good of the two countries.”

  Franklin bowed his head deeply. “Your Majesty may count on the gratitude of Congress and its faithful observance of the pledges it now makes.”

  Each took a quill in hand, dipped it, and carefully affixed their signatures to the documents before them. They exchanged the copies, and again dipped their quills to execute their names.

  They raised their heads, and it was done.

  France had joined with America in the war against England.

  Notes

  The morning of 19 September 1777 broke chill and extremely foggy. Burgoyne sent his army south, across the rolling hills straight toward the American fortifications on Bemis Heights. By about ten o’clock the fog lifted and the American scouts noticed activity that told them Burgoyne was coming. The news was sent on to Gates. And Gates did nothing! Arnold pleaded with him to take the initiative, since battles are not won by those who sit and wait for the enemy to take the offensive, but by those who seize the moment and attack. Gates refused, but finally relented, informing Arnold he could send Morgan’s riflemen out to scout. Arnold did so. Morgan’s corp reached Freeman’s farm before they met the oncoming British, and being the crack frontiersmen they were, disappeared instantly behind trees and bushes, and into an old barn. With their long Pennsylvania rifles, they caught the first company of British in the open, and in less than three seconds had more than two hundred of them on the ground.

  However, Morgan had unknowingly blundered right into the heart of Burgoyne’s army, and within minutes the center of the British army was charging him. Morgan’s corp took many casualties, but did not break. Morgan is reported to have had tears in his eyes at seeing his beloved riflemen going down.

  Thus began the Battle of Freeman’s Farm. It continued through most of the day, with the two opposing sides locked in an unending seesaw fight, first one taking the ground, then the other. General Arnold spent the day riding through the thickest parts of the battlefield, encouraging his men, directing them, ignoring the constant threat of being shot dead. Toward evening the Americans under Arnold were at the point of flanking Burgoyne’s army and defeating them, when a courageous charge by von Riedesel broke the American attack, and the battle ended with neither side clearly the victor. At the end of the day both sides withdrew to try to regroup for what was surely to come. In the four hours of intense, hand-to-hand combat, Burgoyne’s army had learned one great lesson: the Americans, for whom they had previously held no regard as fighting men, had stood up to the best troops the British and Germans had, and they had given them better than they’d got, and come within minutes of beating them before von Riedesel saved the day for the British. In the four hours of the Battle of Freeman’s Farm, something went out of Burgoyne’s army.

  It was generally conceded that if Arnold had not insisted on sending out Morgan’s corp of riflemen to make contact with the British, and then take the fight to the British, the outcome of the day’s battle would have been vastly different. It was noted that General Burgoyne was riding among his troops, ignoring the obvious danger, inspiring and directing them. Gates, however, never left his headquarters. When Gates wrote his report of the battle for Congress, he did not mention the name of Benedict Arnold. That fact became known to many, who could not believe Gates would do such a thing. It was becoming clear that Arnold, the warrior, was going to have difficulty with Gates, the politician.

  Baroness Frederika von Riedesel, beautiful and courageous wife of General von Riedesel, opened her dwelling to the wounded and spent the night tending them, as she did many times later. The men called her “Red Hazel” because of her beautiful, long red hair, and they came to nearly worship this great woman.

  Burgoyne planned another assault the next morning, 20 September 1777, but in the night received a message that led him to believe General Clinton might be coming up from Albany to reinforce him. The pertinent language of the message is set forth verbatim in this chapter. Burgoyne decided to wait about ten days, in the vain hope Clinton would arrive.

  While Burgoyne waited, his army built two great redoubts on the ground surrounding Freeman’s farm, about four miles north of Gates’s headquarters on Bemis Heights. The redoubts were named the Breymann Redoubt, which was the largest and the cornerstone of the British defenses, and the Balcarres Redoubt, smaller. They were named after the generals who were to command them. About two miles to the east, Burgoyne built strong breastworks where he established his headquarters.

  Clinton never came. Burgoyne could wait no longer. Either he would fight his way through to Albany, or he and his army would perish in the oncoming winter, since their condition and lack of supplies would not let them retreat.

  The morning of 7 October 1777, the British attack began.

  Again Gates ordered the Americans to simply sit in their fortifications on Bemis Heights and let the British try to take them; however, he did send out Major Wilkinson to find the British and report their movements. Wilkinson did so, watching the British forces infiltrate a wheat field owned by a farmer named Barber. He saw General Burgoyne and other officers climb onto the roof of a barn and use their telescopes to study the American positions. Wilkinson reported back to Gates, who decided to continue waiting. Arnold instantly requested to be allowed to go look. Gates feared it, saying, “I am afraid to trust you, Arnold.” But Gates finally allowed him to go.

  Arnold returned in half an hour, advising that a large force of British was marching around the American left flank to take the headquarters fortifications. Gates said he would send Morgan and Dearborn to swing arou
nd the British. Arnold told Gates that was “nothing, you must send a strong force.” Gates became furious and told Arnold “I have nothing for you to do. You have no business here.” With that, Gates stripped Arnold of all command and confined him to his tent until further notice.

  The battle at Barber’s wheat field was under way. It raged back and forth as had the previous battle at Freeman’s farm. Sitting in his quarters, Arnold could hear the guns, and it tore at him. Finally he could take no more. Against orders, he strode from his tent and mounted his horse. Gates saw him and stood transfixed as Arnold looked him in the eye, said nothing, wheeled his horse, and left for the battle at a gallop. Gates sent Major Armstrong to bring him back, but for understandable reasons Armstrong did not follow Arnold as he rode into the hottest part of the battle. At Arnold’s arrival on the battlefield, suddenly everything became electric. He was riding first here, then there, assuming command of any who would follow him. And follow him they did! He rallied the Americans and charged the Balcarres Redoubt. The battle mired down, and when Arnold saw Morgan’s men further north attacking the Breymann Redoubt, which was the cornerstone of Burgoyne’s defenses, Arnold turned his horse and rode at stampede gait for half a mile past the British lines with half the British army firing at him. They hit his clothing, but not the man. He swept up before the Americans, shouting for them to follow him, and they did.

  To his left, General Simon Fraser was rallying the British to come to the rescue of the Breymann Redoubt when Arnold saw him. Pointing, he declared the Americans must stop that man, meaning Fraser. Morgan turned and shouted to Timothy Murphy, the finest shot among his riflemen. Murphy climbed a tree, and from his perch shot Fraser, mortally wounding him. Burgoyne saw Fraser fall, and at that moment something went out of Burgoyne. Baroness Frederika von Riedesel received the stricken Fraser into her quarters and nursed him overnight, but he died at eight o’clock the next morning.

  Arnold led the Americans around the left end of the Breymann Redoubt where desperate hand-to-hand fighting ensued. While leading them in, Arnold’s horse was shot out from under him, and his left leg was badly broken by a musketball between the knee and the thigh. The men he had led to the brink of success at the redoubt went ahead and captured the redoubt, which gave the Americans easy access in behind Burgoyne’s headquarters. The Battle of Barber’s Wheat Field was essentially over.