The Glorious Cause

by Jeff Shaara

  Franklin was surprised, thought, Apparently he reads my thoughts. This might make things interesting.

  “Please, Your Excellency, an apology is unnecessary. It is of no concern. We were enjoying your décor.”

  Vergennes sat, the others followed, and Vergennes said, “Your kindness does not erase our rudeness, sir.”

  Franklin felt himself settle into soft luxury, the strain in his legs letting go. Vergennes was still watching him, said, “Has your stay in Paris been to your liking, Doctor? Is there anything I can do to make you, any of you, more comfortable?”

  The others did not speak, and Franklin fought the urge to make a poorly timed joke about sending a French army to invade England. He turned slightly in the chair, still easing the pains.

  “I for one am quite satisfactory, Your Excellency. An old man’s bones have no sense of humor.”

  Vergennes smiled again.

  “Then we have already established one thing in common, Doctor.”

  Vergennes was older than he expected, and Franklin saw sharp dark eyes focused on him through thick drooping lids, the look of a man who was always tired. Franklin looked toward the others, saw Deane nod to him, a signal that he expected Franklin to do the talking. Lee was simply staring down, and Franklin said, “If I may be allowed, Your Excellency. A formal introduction is in order. We come here as official representatives of the Congress of the United States of America, and are fully empowered by that body to propose and negotiate a treaty of commerce between France and the United States.”

  Vergennes waited until the formal speech was complete, smiled again, said, “What would you propose of us, Doctor?”

  “Your Excellency, we are waging a war for our survival. We could ask any willing government for an alliance that would sweep away our disadvantage in battle, but this we do not do.” Vergennes was all seriousness now, waited for Franklin to continue. “The financial credit of the United States is of paramount importance. We request assistance in the purchase of those goods which may assist us in fighting this war. As Your Excellency is certainly aware, Mr. Deane has been successful in his meetings with French business interests. In addition, the French government has shown a generous spirit by allowing American ships to anchor in French ports. We would ask that Your Excellency continue this generosity. Further, we would hope that Your Excellency might find the means of sending those ships back home laden with supplies.”

  Vergennes waited for more, but Franklin was through, thought, That is sufficient for a first meeting. We must not overdo it. He sat back in the chair, looked at the others, could see a look of satisfaction on Deane’s face, the man who had already done so much to secure private funds. Deane’s job would be much simpler if France would desist from the intrigue and openly offer supplies and credit to the Americans. Lee looked up at Franklin now, seemed to wait for more as well. Franklin tilted his head, a gesture of politeness, said, “Do you have anything to add, Mr. Lee?” Lee pondered the question, and Franklin gripped the edge of the table, silently begged Lee not to say a word.

  “Thank you, Doctor. Not at this time.”

  Franklin let out a long breath. Thank you, sir. We cannot ask them for too much. This is not yet the time.

  Vergennes was looking at him with a question on his face, and Franklin waited, knew the man was assembling the proper words, the skill of the diplomat.

  “Doctor, please be assured I mean this as no offense. America is a vast land, and your resources have yet to be developed. I am confident that when your craftsmen and your farmers fully explore the potential of your country, you will be a valuable partner to any nation. But that is the future. The present offers a difficult portrait. In your current crisis, the one resource you can call upon is your strength of numbers. I would imagine your government could field an army many times the force required for your defense. There is curiosity here, Doctor. Why must America look beyond her own borders?”

  It was a question Franklin had expected.

  “Your Excellency, we take no offense. Your Excellency asks a simple question which has difficult answers. We represent a congress who must work within the authority granted to it by the states. There is no means for us to compel anyone to take up arms. There is a general feeling in the congress, and throughout America that the assembly of a professional army is a threat to the very freedoms we are fighting to secure.”

  Vergennes pondered the statement.

  “You cannot achieve your independence if you do not have the spirit to fight for it.”

  “Your Excellency, no nation on this earth has accomplished what America is attempting to do. Where do we go for instruction, for guidance? Is there any nation prepared to offer us a model to follow, who can provide wise counsel for our congress, so that we may know how to build a nation? It may be that the only way for America to survive is to impress its citizens by force, to compel men to take up arms against their will. But such a success would cost us the very principles for which we fight. Is this a contradiction? Perhaps. The congress is not a professional government. It is composed of men such as those before you here.” He paused, thought a moment. “When the British were persuaded to evacuate Boston, the congress voted in celebration to grant General Washington a gold medal. To the General’s credit, he will not wear it. He beseeches us instead to put our gold to better use, to pay for clothes and food for his soldiers. I am embarrassed to admit to Your Excellency that we do not possess the means to do that. It is not simply a lack of spirit. It is a lack of experience, and a lack of resources. We are a nation of amateurs, fighting a war against an empire of professionals. If America survives, it will have to survive on the backs of the inexperienced. And, I must be candid, sir. We require assistance.”

  The response came in less than two weeks, and he stared at the gold seal on the document in tearful disbelief. He read the words over again, thought, There must be conditions, some restriction, some clause here . . . but there was nothing beyond the simple and extraordinary decree. The French government had granted the American congress two million francs to assist them in their war effort, with a guarantee of two million more for each year the war went on.

  He lowered the document, looked now at the courier, a young man sent by Vergennes to deliver the document.

  “I suppose, sir, this is official.”

  The man spoke only broken English, smiled now, said something that Franklin’s swirling mind would not grasp. Franklin looked again at the thick gold seal of King Louis.

  “Well, yes. Of course this is official.”

  The young man seemed ready to leave, and Franklin looked at him again.

  “Young sir, please express my profound . . . our most esteemed . . .” He stopped, thought, Good God man, how does one respond to this?

  “Please tell Count Vergennes that America thanks him.”

  The young man seemed to be satisfied, was quickly away. Franklin closed the door, moved across the room to the window, could see the young man emerging from the hotel entrance, climbing now into a grand carriage. He backed away from the window, sat slowly in his soft chair. There was silence now, and he held the paper up, thought, This could change so much. And there’s no one here to show it to.

  He tried to relax the spasms in his stomach, the utter thrill of the success. This will cause trouble at the French court, that’s for certain. The English will howl like wild dogs, and no one will be surprised if a war is declared either here or in London. But he would not think of that now, held the paper against his chest. He would have to write his own letter to the congress, a footnote to this document, send the papers on the fastest ship available. He thought of Vergennes. What did he say to the king? Was it a difficult job convincing Louis to open up his treasury? And what must we still do in return?

  His mission was far from accomplished, but in his hand was the first success, the unmistakable message that America had found an ally. The door to the French court was slowly swinging open.

  18. FRANKLIN


  FEBRUARY 25, 1777

  The small ship reached the docks at le Havre with a message that tore across the French countryside like a bolt of lightning. George Washington had bloodied the British at Trenton and Princeton, a pair of stunning defeats to Howe’s army that brought cheers and celebration to the halls of King Louis. Franklin received the news as he had received the gift from Vergennes, staring through damp eyes at the glorious words on a simple piece of paper. He did not yet know what this would do for his negotiations. Certainly the gloom would be lifted, and no matter what news might follow, for a while at least, the French would know that the Americans could do more than make broad and grandiose pronouncements about independence. They could fight for it as well.

  Vergennes had summoned Franklin as soon as the news had reached the French court, and within minutes of the invitation, Franklin was dressed and had summoned his carriage. As he stepped out of the hotel, a small crowd was waiting, and he heard his name, surprising calls of congratulation, as though this one old man had accomplished such a feat three thousand miles away. He was accustomed to being recognized, but this was different, and he was amazed that word of Washington’s victories had spread so quickly beyond the official halls of government. The carriage was not yet there, and he stood alone, while the crowd grew, more of the passersby clamoring for a look at this celebrated American. As their joy flooded over him, he began to relax, would board the carriage in due time, would enjoy the moment, the extraordinary show of affection from a people he was still trying to know.

  He had begun a healthy routine again, would brave the chilly days for long walks through the wide streets. There was always attention, the old round man moving slowly past the shops and small cafés dressed still in the style that seemed to amuse the socialites. He would always wear his trademark plain fur hat and dull brown coat, and always the tiny glasses perched on his nose. By appearance alone his fame had spread, far beyond the drawing rooms of the elite. As he made his daily walks, people stopped him on the street, if only to speak to him, and his responses were polite, if somewhat inaccurate. He had tried to master the French language, had become fluent enough to understand most of what was spoken to him, but his failing was in the details, and his poor grammar and clumsy pronunciation only added to his charm. To the poor and working classes, his lack of concern for pomp and grandeur was making him a hero, and within a few weeks, his image had begun to appear in stone and wax and paper, adorning the modest walls and hearths of simple homes all over Paris. In clothing shops, merchants began to stock more goods of the color brown, described now as the Franklin Hue. Hat shops began to sell the Franklin Hat, his simple fur now reproduced as an object of popular fashion.

  His image was not all accident. His purpose from the beginning was to show that America was not so obsessed with finery as with the substance of its own crisis. He had hoped that his appearance would at the very least draw attention to his purpose for being there, a humble man from a humble nation. It could only help his cause, and it had seemed to work. To those in and around the royal court, he continued to be a charming and curious oddity, sought after for his graciousness and his vast collection of stories. But the sudden outpouring of affection from the people was a surprise, both to Franklin and to the elite. There had been some of this in London, but the response there had not been so positive, his image more a symbol of the annoying rebellion. But the French workers had made him an icon, the consummate American, a symbol of a dynamic people who would throw off their chains. There was something in their response that reached him beyond his grateful vanity, a gnawing sense that beneath their affection was another voice, aimed perhaps at their own government, a growl of discontentment that his appearance had brought to the surface. But he could not focus on that, the old man’s limited strength keeping his mind on the job he still had to do. The celebration of Franklin by the French people had naturally added to the jealousy and resentment of Arthur Lee.

  The three commissioners had agreed that an effort should be made to seek aid from King Charles of Spain, and Lee had leapt at the opportunity to leave Paris. Spain and France were allied in a somewhat weak coalition against England, the rivalry for control of the oceans that had produced centuries of warfare. Spain did not possess France’s wealth, but there was motivation in Madrid for Charles to join with Louis should war actually erupt on this side of the Atlantic. England controlled Gibraltar, the impregnable fortress that guarded the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea. That the English should occupy what was in effect part of the Spanish mainland was an embarrassment to Spanish pride. If any war was to be fought against England, King Charles had one eye firmly focused on claiming Gibraltar.

  While Lee was making the journey to Madrid, Deane had once again resumed his complicated negotiations for the discreet shipments of supplies. He was frequently away from Paris, though neither Deane nor Franklin considered his absence a problem. Today, it just meant that Franklin would respond to Vergennes’ invitation by himself.

  The reception from Vergennes was as enthusiastic as the man’s official position would allow, and Franklin could sense the joyous mood in every one of the French servants and secretaries. The scene had begun as before, Franklin escorted to the powder blue room, but there was no waiting now, Vergennes arriving seconds after Franklin was left alone. Franklin still didn’t know why Vergennes had called him, would not allow his optimism to run wild, knew that all of the old issues were still in place. Washington’s victories had certainly eased some of the pessimism of the French court, but the war in America had not yet ended. Louis would understand that with the coming of spring, the British would resolve to reverse their embarrassments in New Jersey. Even if the French were now to offer direct military assistance to the Continental Congress, it would not make a direct impact in America for many months. Washington’s army and the American cause might yet be swept away.

  They sat again at the grand table, Franklin adjusting himself to the comfort of the soft chair. Behind Vergennes, the two familiar secretaries flanked the small table, inkstands full, preparing to record what was said.

  “Doctor, I have received confirmation from the navy that four American ships, bearing military supplies, have been at anchor in Le Havre. As a result of the most stern protests from the English, I have not allowed these ships to sail. If I did, it would be a clear violation of our treaty with England and could lead to a declaration of war. However, only this morning I received the dreadful news that the carelessness of the port guards has allowed these ships to escape to the open sea. Where they will reappear is a source of extreme speculation. However, I leave such speculation to the English.”

  Franklin could not hide his smile, examined Vergennes’ expression for any break in the man’s formal seriousness.

  “Thank you, Your Excellency. For, um, not speculating.”

  “There is no reason to thank me, Doctor. Those ships will be the objects of a widespread search by British warships. There is no guarantee any of them will reach their intended port. Wherever that might be.”

  Franklin tried to mimic Vergennes’ seriousness.

  “Your Excellency is quite correct. I wish only for the safety of their crews . . . and cargo.”

  He was adapting easily to the rules of the game. The English had grudgingly accepted the French gifts of money to America, King George no more eager than the French to declare another war. But openly supplying the Americans with French weaponry was an escalation the British could not ignore. American ships that docked in French ports were free to take on whatever cargo their captains could arrange. But the only way they could carry that cargo anywhere beyond French waters was by eluding the official orders to stay put. This meant nothing more than setting sail after dark, when the French harbormasters, under discreet instruction from Vergennes, simply turned the other way.

  “Doctor, are you familiar with Viscount David Stormont?”

  Franklin knew the name, the British ambassador to France.

  “I have n
ot made his acquaintance, Your Excellency.”

  “It’s not likely you will. He was here this morning, as expected, with his shrill protest of the escape of your supply ships. He made a rather hasty exit, not wishing to inflict upon himself the poison of actually meeting the rebel Dr. Franklin.”

  Franklin smiled, but Vergennes was not amused by his own humor.

  “Lord Stormont is a man filled with regrettable excitement. His job is to issue protest, and he is a man quite expert of performing his job. It has become a tedious routine, which even Mr. Stormont knows will bear no good results.”

  Franklin sensed a gravity to Vergennes’ voice, a deeper meaning beyond his words. Franklin did not understand, tried to lighten the moment.

  “I regret I should be such a fly in Lord Stormont’s ointment, Your Excellency.”

  Vergennes seemed not to hear him.

  “I must reveal something to you, Doctor, for which I hope you will not take offense. By my instruction, the police have been watching over you. I thought it a prudent precaution. Paris is not a dangerous city, Doctor, but you are a famous man, and vulnerable to a variety of evils. Should any harm come to you, it would be a severe embarrassment to King Louis. I am not ashamed to admit that it would cause me considerable distress as well.”

  The news itself did not surprise him. That Vergennes would reveal it with such a somber tone did.

  “I am not offended, Your Excellency. I admit to being somewhat cavalier in my habits. It is of comfort that your security officers have one eye on my well-being.”

  Vergennes was still somber, said, “Doctor, we are not the only ones watching you. My invitation to you today was not public information, and yet Lord Stormont knew you were coming. This morning, by his careless complaint, he has revealed what we have long suspected to be true.”

  Franklin was puzzled by Vergennes’ dark mood, said, “Your Excellency, I have long believed that the best remedy when surrounded by spies is to behave in a manner which, if made public, will cause no one to blush. If I believed that the valet in my hotel was a spy, which he probably is, I would be more concerned with the quality of his service than anything he could learn from me.”