Without Precedent

by Joel Richard Paul

  However, Talleyrand needed time to persuade the Directory. The real problem was the Directory’s response to Adams’s speech to Congress the previous spring. Adams had declared that Genet’s attempts to “sow among us the fatal seed of discord” must be “rejected by a decision which will convince France and the universe that we are a people neither degraded nor humiliated by a feeling of fear or inferiority, nor destined to be the wretched plaything of foreign influence, nor, finally, devoid of respect for the honor, character, and interests of the Nation.”37 Rather than ask the Americans for an outright apology, Talleyrand asked for an “explanation.” That was diplomatic hairsplitting to allow the Americans a face-saving way to walk back from the president’s incendiary remarks.38 It hardly seemed unreasonable.

  To avoid crossing the Directory, Talleyrand passed this message to the American commissioners through his personal secretary, and the Americans chose to ignore it.39 Such misjudgment may have doomed the mission from the start.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NOT A SIXPENCE

  It was the coldest October Marshall could remember. He strolled through the Tuileries, honey brown in the autumn light, and along the embankment of the pearl-gray Seine. Few Americans had ever experienced a city this size—ten times larger than Philadelphia. No American could have imagined the grandeur of its architecture, the density of its population, the elegant fashions, or the abundance of distractions. Despite all the terror and war that the city had endured, the public places were crowded and lively. Paris “presents one incessant round of amusement and dissipation,” he wrote to Polly. “Every day you may see something, new magnificent and beautiful; every night you may see a spectacle which astonishes and inchants the imagination.” He thought that “[a]ll you can conceive and a great deal more than you can conceive . . . is to be found in this gay metropolis, but I suspect it would not be easy to find a friend.” Despite all of Paris’s charms, Marshall yearned for home. “I woud not live in Paris to be among the wealthiest of its citizens,” he wrote.1

  Bonaparte’s army was sweeping across Europe in 1797, forging the largest empire since Charlemagne’s time. The heady rhetoric of republicanism coexisted with nationalistic ambitions and imperial remnants. Marshall knew that despite all the talk of equality and fraternity there were slaves in Richmond who lived better and healthier lives than many free citizens in Paris did. Nor could Marshall have overlooked the venality of the French aristocracy. Republican France preached liberty and virtue while practicing public corruption and private vice: debauchery, selfishness, and avarice were excused as long as you had the proper breeding.

  A week had passed since their brief meeting with Talleyrand, and the American commissioners had heard nothing official from the ministry. While they were kept waiting “in a manner most unusual & contemptuous,” French ships continued to plunder American vessels. Marshall pressed his colleagues to send a letter to the foreign minister demanding an immediate stop to privateering. Gerry cautioned that they should not rush Talleyrand at the risk of offending the government. Marshall replied sensibly that if “France is determined to be offended, she may quarrel with our answer to any proposition she may make or even with our silence.” Although Pinckney agreed with Marshall, the three were resolved to act only in unanimity. And so they just waited.2

  When the Americans failed to respond to the overture from his personal secretary, Talleyrand sent Jean Conrad Hottinguer to visit them.3 Hottinguer was one of the Dutch bankers who had arranged a loan for James Marshall for the purchase of the Fairfax property. It is likely that Talleyrand knew that Hottinguer was in a position to influence Marshall. That night, while the three envoys were dining at Pinckney’s flat, Hottinguer knocked at the door.4 According to Hottinguer, Talleyrand wanted to negotiate a new treaty but that Talleyrand insisted that the United States should “give satisfaction to the honor of France wounded by the speech of the president,” pay France’s debts owed to American nationals, and compensate American ship owners for any property losses resulting from privateering. On top of that, Talleyrand wanted the United States to “lend” to France thirty-two million Dutch guilders (more than four hundred million dollars today). That was not all. Hottinguer added one other requirement: “[T]here must be something for the pocket.” When Pinckney looked quizzical, Hottinguer explained that the Americans should pay a pot-de-vin—a bribe to the ministry—of fifty thousand pounds (around six million dollars today).5 This was more than pocket money.

  Marshall reacted angrily. Paying France for attacking American commerce would be equivalent to the “absolute surrender of the independence of the United States.” The commissioners had no authority to pay France anything, and there was no possibility of negotiating on these terms. Marshall advised once again that they should issue a strongly worded remonstrance to the ministry protesting the seizure of U.S. vessels and the delay in negotiations. Pinckney concurred. Gerry agreed that they should not reply to terms proposed through informal back channels that could later be denied by the ministry. However, Gerry still opposed any written protest to Talleyrand.6

  * * *

  —

  BY NOW MARSHALL began to doubt that Talleyrand would ever receive them. The capture of U.S. vessels continued unabated. The French government had begun leasing naval frigates to privateers. France appeared to be “radically hostile” to American interests. Marshall wished he could draw some other conclusion, “but to do so I must shut my eyes on every object which presents itself to them.” He wrote to George Washington “that the Atlantic only can save us, & that no consideration will be sufficiently powerful to check the extremities to which the temper of this government will carry it, but an apprehension that we may be thrown into the arms of Britain.” The fear that America would be pushed into an alliance with Britain was precisely what Talleyrand had warned the Directory against. Marshall’s analysis was spot-on, and so was his conclusion that Americans needed a strong navy.7

  The next evening at seven o’clock, Hottinguer returned with another visitor, Pierre Bellamy. Bellamy was a Genovese agent employed by Talleyrand to “facilitate” negotiations by first collecting a bribe from the relevant parties. He served this function in negotiations with Portugal and Britain, among others. Bellamy modestly described himself as “clothed with no authority” even though he was a friend of Talleyrand’s. Bellamy removed a folded paper from his pocket, set it down, and began reading a statement prepared by Talleyrand accusing the United States of betraying its alliance with France by favoring their common enemy, Britain. The chief complaint was President Adams’s speech before Congress. The discussion dragged on for nearly three hours before they retired for the night.8

  At nine the next morning, Marshall, Gerry, and Pinckney met over breakfast in Gerry’s flat. They disagreed over the proper response. Marshall thought that they should reply that the proposed loan and bribe were “totally inadmissible” and that they could not negotiate through informal channels. Once more Gerry disagreed. He proposed to tell Talleyrand they would weigh his proposal.9

  Marshall cut him off and angrily declared that under no circumstances would he even consider paying a bribe or making a loan. There was no reason to delay a response. If Gerry insisted, Marshall suggested that one of them return to Philadelphia to ask for instructions. He offered to leave Paris immediately—he was only too glad to return home—but only on condition that France must first stop seizing American ships.10 Pinckney agreed with Marshall that they needed to tell France that this was unacceptable and that they would not negotiate through unofficial channels. But in a sense, it was too late for that already. By meeting with Hottinguer they had already acquiesced to Talleyrand’s game plan.11

  * * *

  —

  THE DAY AFTER this angry exchange between Marshall and Gerry, Marshall joined the Pinckneys for a bit of sightseeing. They traveled nine kilometers outside the city to the royal château at Saint Cloud. The gardens were lovely along the
Seine, but the autumn leaves were not quite as brilliant as they were in Virginia. While Gerry remained behind in Paris sulking, a third visitor appeared at his door: Lucien Hauteval. Hauteval was a wealthy sugar planter from Santo Domingo who now lived in Boston and knew both Gerry and the president’s son, John Quincy. (Talleyrand had clearly done his homework.) Hauteval also had a close business relationship with Talleyrand. Hauteval informed Gerry that Talleyrand genuinely wanted to reconcile with the United States and that he was offended that the Americans had not paid him a personal visit. In light of Talleyrand’s firm refusal to meet with the Americans, this was hard to believe.12

  Hauteval returned the next day to meet with all three commissioners and assured them that Talleyrand would welcome a visit during his private hours at home. Marshall responded that the foreign minister had told them to wait to hear from him. Gerry, who had previously counseled against contacting Talleyrand, now suggested that he might approach Talleyrand personally to try to request a formal meeting. Marshall and Pinckney agreed. Yet, when Gerry went to the ministry, the foreign minister refused to see him.13 The commissioners had misread Talleyrand again: He was willing to meet only secretly and unofficially in his home where presumably he felt freer to speak.

  * * *

  —

  DAYS LATER, news reached Paris that on October 17, 1797, the Treaty of Campo Formio had been signed, ending the war between France and Austria. Cannons were fired, and joyous crowds celebrated the peace. With peace on the Continent, Bonaparte could turn his attention to conquering Britain. This was no idle threat, and across the Channel, the usually calm British began to panic. Though Britain commanded a superior navy, it did not have an army as large or as well trained as Bonaparte’s.14 If Bonaparte defeated Britain, France would be unquestionably the world’s most powerful empire. France would then demand the return of its prior colonies in North America, including Louisiana. Bonaparte would be unstoppable.

  At noon on October 27, 1797, Hottinguer returned to the Americans with a tough message from Talleyrand, who was buoyed by Austria’s defeat: The American envoys must reply promptly in writing to the French demand for a loan and a bribe. Hottinguer warned that the minister had lost his patience and that France “would take a decided course with regard to America” if the Americans did not bend to their will. America was either with France or against her.15

  Gerry explained that the Americans had no authority to negotiate for a loan. Hottinguer grew more heated. He could not believe their naïveté: “Didn’t your government know that nothing can be obtained here without money?” Any American in Paris could have told them that much. In a menacing tone, Hottinguer warned that it would be more “prudent” to offer a loan to their French allies than to fight them.16

  Pinckney had had enough. He had already spoken to that point.

  “No, you have not,” Hottinguer replied. “What is your answer, General Pinckney?”

  Pinckney shot back: “No, no, not a sixpence!”17

  Marshall did not mince words. American independence “was still dearer to us than the friendship of France.” America had every right to remain neutral. “[T]o lend this money under the lash & coercion of France was to relinquish the government of ourselves & to submit to a foreign government imposed upon us by force.” Marshall declared that Americans would prefer that “we make at least one manly struggle before we thus surrendered our national independence.”18

  When Marshall stopped speaking, Hottinguer quietly reminded the Americans that France had loaned them millions to win their independence from Britain. Yes, Gerry replied, but when America solicited a loan from France, France was free to say no. Aiding the Americans had helped France to defeat its rival, but there was no benefit to the United States for aiding France in a war against Britain.19

  Unless France stopped interfering with U.S. ships, the Americans would not respond to Talleyrand’s demands. Unless the Americans demonstrated goodwill by walking back President Adams’s speech, extending a loan, and paying a bribe, France would continue to seize U.S. ships. Even before negotiations began, they had reached an impasse. The American commissioners peered over the brink of war.

  * * *

  —

  THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Gerry anxiously paid a visit to Talleyrand’s home. Talleyrand kept him waiting for an hour, and when he did receive him, he was brusque: The Directory had issued an arrêté (an order) requiring the envoys to provide an explanation of the president’s speech to Congress. The Directory would also require a loan from the United States, but Talleyrand declined to name a figure. If the United States had not authorized the envoys to negotiate a loan, they should just assume they had the authority. There was no time to wait for permission from Congress. Talleyrand was clear that “the loan was an absolute sine qua non.” The audience was over in a few minutes.

  It is curious that Talleyrand did not ask for a douceur. But Gerry had no doubt that Talleyrand expected a large gratuity. He thought that “a small cargo of Mexican dollars would be more efficient in a negotiation at present than two Cargoes of Ambassadors.”20

  While the commissioners puzzled over how to respond to the arrêté, Hottinguer called on them with a new proposal. “[T]he destruction of England was inevitable,” and therefore “the wealth and arts of that nation would naturally pass over to America” if the Americans chose wisely. In lieu of a “bribe,” the envoys could simply pay a “fee” to remain in Paris and negotiate with Talleyrand while one of the envoys returned to Philadelphia to obtain authority for the loan. However, the French would not cease their attacks on U.S. vessels while the negotiations proceeded.21

  Marshall erupted: France had captured more than fifteen million dollars in ships and cargo, and now it asked for another 1.2 million livres so that the commissioners might be allowed to spend the winter at the Paris Opéra while these depredations continued.22 This was too much to swallow.

  Gerry invited Bellamy and Hottinguer to join the three commissioners over breakfast the following morning. At this point, it was clear that the Americans had completely abandoned the idea of not negotiating through back channels, and it was becoming clear that at least Gerry was willing to entertain the possibility of paying something to France in exchange for peace.

  Bellamy warned them at breakfast that if the United States crossed France, it might share the same fate as Venice, which had been divided between France and Austria. France would smash England with an army of one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers. Bellamy even threatened the American envoys that if the negotiations failed, France would use the “French party in America to throw the blame” on them. Hottinguer added that none of their proposals would even be presented to the Directory until Talleyrand received a fifty-thousand-pound bribe.23

  It appeared to Marshall that Talleyrand’s principal objective was to postpone negotiations until he had sufficient influence with the Directory to push them toward a settlement.24 Talleyrand knew that the demand for a loan would delay negotiations at least six months while the commissioners waited for authorization from Philadelphia. But Talleyrand also expected to be compensated for his “service” in negotiating a settlement.25 Talleyrand considered bribes a fringe benefit of holding public office, and he was candid about his desire to profit from his office: “I have to make an immense fortune out of it, a really immense fortune,” he once wrote. When Talleyrand lived in the United States, he was surprised that his friend Alexander Hamilton, as secretary of the treasury, continued practicing law to support himself. Talleyrand thought it was scandalous that a man who “made the fortune of his country” should have to “work all night in order to support his family.”26

  Marshall understood that the negotiations could not advance without a bribe. The men of the Revolutionary generation to which he belonged saw themselves as fighting to rid America of the corrupt influence of European society. Now Marshall found himself once again defending American virtue against Eu
ropean vice. He was prepared to go to war rather than pay tribute, but in so doing, he knew that he was risking the future of the American Republic.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LOVE AND WAR

  Cool, gray fog descended like a veil across the stony face of Notre Dame. Hard rain rattled windows ceaselessly. Marshall would not have seen umbrellas until his arrival in France, and he must have regarded them with curiosity. But umbrellas were of little practical use against the shrieking winds that announced the early arrival of winter. Streets flooded, and it was almost impossible to go anywhere in the city without being splattered by mud.1 Marshall discovered that it was futile to complain to his French landlord about his fireplace, which sat cold and useless. It was a cruel joke.

  As the days shortened, Marshall felt the passage of time more acutely. The American commissioners had waited more than a month to be formally received. He felt that Talleyrand’s continued delay was intended “to degrade & humiliate their country.” Marshall suspected that France was delaying negotiations until it ended hostilities with Britain on France’s terms; then the French would have more leverage over the Americans.2

  At the beginning of November, Marshall drafted a strongly worded letter to Talleyrand protesting their treatment and presented it to the other two commissioners for their signatures. Pinkney agreed to it, but to persuade Gerry to sign it, Marshall had to tone it down considerably.3 The letter rhapsodized about the United States’ “ardent friendship, [and] affection for the French Republic” and its “confidence in her justice and magnanimity.” The loss of France’s friendship was “a subject of unfeigned regret.” The United States had a “sincere desire” to correct any misunderstanding or amend treaties. After Gerry’s amendments, the letter sounded less like a protest than a groveling plea from a spurned lover. But Talleyrand did not reply.4