by Carol Berkin
But there were men in Washington’s cabinet who saw a different source of equally dire developments on the horizon. Like many of the revolutionary generation, Thomas Jefferson nurtured an intense Anglophobia. In his eyes, the rapid growth of commerce and industry in Britain had spawned greed and political corruption. He was certain that Hamilton’s system cultivated this same moral degeneracy in the American Republic. Indeed, in Jefferson’s view, all of Hamilton’s programs privileged commerce over agriculture, the manipulation of money over the cultivation of the soil, and the emergence of an elite minority devoted to profit rather to public service. Jefferson was convinced that the assumption of state debts, the funding of the combined debts, the honoring of government-issued certificates at face value, and the establishment of the Bank of the United States were designed to destroy the agrarian bedrock on which the Republic stood. He also maintained an unshakeable conviction that Hamilton’s ultimate goal was the establishment of an American monarchy. In the face of what he saw as a betrayal of the American Revolution, Jefferson had begun to organize a political movement to contain and ultimately to overturn Hamilton’s fiscal and economic system. The survival of the French Republic was critical to his efforts, for he believed the French example would keep the love of liberty alive in the hearts of Americans until Hamilton’s system could be undone.
The cabinet was thus rapidly becoming an intellectual and political battleground, with Hamilton and Secretary of War Henry Knox on one side and Jefferson and in most instances Attorney General Edmund Randolph on the other. Washington sought advice from both camps, and, though he may have longed for unanimity, he accepted that compromise was the only triumph possible.
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“FREEMEN, WE ARE YOUR BROTHERS AND FRIENDS.”
—Embuscade banner, 1793
ALTHOUGH GENET WAS appointed in November 1792, he had not yet reached American shores by March 1793. Nevertheless, Jefferson was anxious for the president to decide how the minister of a revolutionary government should be received. Washington sought Hamilton’s advice. Hamilton opposed any steps that would link America’s future too closely to France, but he reluctantly conceded there were no grounds to totally reject the credentials of a minister appointed by the revolutionary government. Hamilton did advocate some restrictions, however. His caution resonated with Washington, whose own alienation from the French cause had been steadily growing. Busy with preparations for a visit to Mount Vernon, the president told Jefferson it was probably best to receive the credentials of the man they all erroneously called “mister Genest” but it should be done without “too much warmth or cordiality.”10
The new French minister did not set sail for America until February 1793, and he did not arrive until April. His winter crossing of the Atlantic had not gone well, for bad weather forced his ship, the forty-gun Embuscade, off course. When the Embuscade finally docked in the United States on April 8, Genet found himself in Charleston, South Carolina, rather than Philadelphia. His arrival was theatrical; his reception was exuberant.
Genet wanted Americans to know that the French considered them brothers-in-arms, and he conveyed the message—in unsubtle fashion—through the Embuscade itself. The ship’s figurehead was a liberty cap, and a second liberty cap was carved on its stern. The foremast had been converted into a liberty pole, one of the favorite symbols of American radicals before independence was declared, a symbol soon to be revived by the whiskey rebels. Around the mizzen top a message blazed: “FREEMEN, WE ARE YOUR BROTHERS AND FRIENDS.” The foretop carried a warning to tyrants: “Enemies of Equality, relinquish your principles or tremble!” A delighted Charleston embraced the minister, the ship captain, and the crew. Genet was swept up in a whirl of fetes, dinners, balls, and receptions, and the many French merchants in residence in the city vied with one another in offers to prepare warships at their own expense for the fight against Great Britain.11
The local enthusiasm for the French cause prompted Genet to abandon all thoughts of following protocol. Rather than making his way immediately to Philadelphia to present his credentials to the secretary of state and the president, he decided to begin his mission. He had arrived armed with some two hundred letters of marque that authorized a privateer to attack and capture enemy vessels and bring them before an admiralty court for condemnation and sale. With these licenses, he quickly commissioned four privateer vessels and enlisted American sailors to man them. He then blithely bypassed the American judicial system by instructing the local French consul to exercise exclusive admiralty jurisdiction over any prizes these privateers brought into port. Thus he established French law in the port of Charleston. Genet also began to recruit American volunteers for an attack on Spanish East Florida.
Genet encountered no interference from South Carolina’s Republican governor William Moultrie. Moultrie conveniently overlooked the authority of the federal government to rule on admiralty matters and did nothing to hinder Genet’s recruitment of American citizens to serve under a foreign flag. He allowed the French minister to use the port of Charleston to arm and man vessels to prey on British ships, and he also suggested the names of men who might be interested in financing or joining Genet’s military operations in East Florida.
Moultrie’s actions—and inaction—roused some criticism from the small number of South Carolina Federalists. But no one was likely to be surprised by Moultrie’s support for Genet. Local Federalists and Republicans alike knew the governor felt a deep affection for France, as evidenced by his close friendship with Michel Ange Bernard Mangourit, the French consul at Charleston. It was also known that Moultrie’s first and second wives were members of a religious group, the Huguenots, who had been persecuted by French kings and the Catholic Church. But Moultrie may have had other reasons than friendship and marital loyalties for undermining the authority of the federal government. One was personal. Only a year earlier, in 1792, President Washington had rejected his application to command the US Army, a decision that stung Moultrie deeply. Another was political. The president had refused to mount a military campaign against the Creek Indians who posed a continuing threat to the state’s western settlers. Yet another was financial. Moultrie had land claims that would benefit if the Spanish were removed from Florida. These slights and grievances surely inclined William Moultrie to a liberal reading of French rights under the treaties of 1778. Although he was careful not to officially endorse Genet’s recruitment activities, the governor felt justified in giving the Frenchman free rein; after all, the federal government had not issued any explicit directives forbidding these actions by a sister republic.12
While Genet was busy recruiting Americans into the service of France, the United States received official word that his government had declared war on Great Britain and Holland. This news brought Washington hurrying back to Philadelphia from Mount Vernon. He arrived in the capital on April 17, 1793, and called for a cabinet meeting on the 19th. At Hamilton’s urging, Washington sent every member of his cabinet thirteen questions about how the president should respond not only to Genet but to what, in effect, was now a full-scale war between America’s two major trading partners. Behind these questions was another: How could the United States avoid being drawn into the conflict?
Washington’s questions all appeared to hinge on the extent of America’s obligations to France under the treaties of amity and commerce and mutual defense signed in 1778 after the American victory at Saratoga. Should the United States even consider those treaties applicable to the present situation, or could they be held in suspension until the current government of France was, as Hamilton put it, firmly established? Was France engaged in an offensive or defensive war? If it was offensive to any degree, did the promise of mutual defense contained in the treaties apply? Did any article in either of the treaties prevent the warships of France’s enemies from coming into American ports as convoys protecting merchant marine vessels? If the French regent—who, with the king dead, was the current representative of the old regime—also s
ent a minister to America, should he be received as well?
Washington also wanted advice on what immediate action he should take. Should he call the recessed Congress into early session to debate America’s position on the European war? Should he issue a proclamation to put a stop to US citizens participating on either side in that war? Collectively, the answers given to all these questions at the cabinet meeting would amount to the first instance of American foreign policy.13
The hand of Hamilton was evident in the formulation of the thirteen questions. He had, in fact, raised many of them—and provided his own answers—in a letter to his Federalist friend, John Jay, on April 9. The reception of Genet must be reconsidered, he explained. “The King has been decapitated. Out of this will arise a Regent, acknowledged and supported by the Powers of Europe almost universally… and who may himself send an Ambassador to the United States.” To receive Genet and refuse the regent’s emissary would effectively destroy any semblance of neutrality. Similarly, the concession to French treaty demands was likely to destroy all hope of avoiding war with Britain. There was only one solution: the United States must insist that France did not yet have a government “competent to demand from us the performance of existing treaties.” Until then, he argued, “the applicability of the Treaties is suspended.”14
The cabinet meeting on April 19 was contentious, and few of the issues raised were resolved. An official reception of Genet was confirmed, although there was intense disagreement over whether it should be unqualified or qualified. A qualified reception signaled that the United States did not consider itself bound by the treaties of 1778. As this was a critical question—and as Hamilton and Jefferson were certain to offer opposing views—the president thought it best to ask for written opinions. The two men were given until May 6 to submit their arguments.15
In the meantime, there was one matter on which the entire cabinet did agree: the president should issue a proclamation prohibiting the interference of US citizens in the war. Yet the language in the proposed proclamation produced another heated exchange between Hamilton and Jefferson. Both knew that France had a desperate need for American supplies, and, because of this, strict American neutrality would favor Great Britain. Thus, Hamilton urged a firm declaration of neutrality while Jefferson, hoping to keep the option of some preferential treatment for France alive, vigorously opposed the use of the word “neutrality.” The secretary of state insisted that an official policy of neutrality would be unconstitutional because the power to decide “there should be no war” fell to the legislative, not the executive, branch. Such a declaration from the president would be, in effect, a major expansion of the office’s role in foreign affairs. But Jefferson’s argument was weak; although Congress did have the power to declare war, it was doubtful that a declaration to stay out of war was an instance of presidential overreach. To bolster his case, Jefferson made the suggestion that there might be benefits to presenting the American position as uncertain. It could, he argued, give the United States an opportunity to wring concessions out of the major powers as a price for American neutrality. Hamilton bristled at the idea; American neutrality, he declared, was not a negotiable commodity. Jefferson’s proposal appears naïve, at best. Because both England and France had the power to disrupt American shipping, close valuable ports to American trade, and, if necessary, bring the war to the United States, the recognition of American neutrality would be their gift to the United States, not something they would have to bargain for. There was little point in the beggar at the table pretending to negotiate from strength.
The question was settled at the next cabinet meeting, on April 22. The often cautious Washington agreed not to include the word “neutrality” in the otherwise strongly worded proclamation he issued that day. Although he had fought hard for this victory, Jefferson knew there was little to celebrate in this small concession. He viewed any step that diminished American support of the French as tantamount to a defeat. In fact, it proved no real victory for him at all, for, despite this effort at finesse, the press and the public—not to mention Jefferson himself—would immediately refer to the document as the Proclamation of Neutrality.16
Drafted by Attorney General Edmund Randolph, the proclamation was essentially a warning to individuals or groups of Americans who might follow the pied piper Edmond Genet. It forbade the active participation of American citizens in warfare on the high seas or in hostile land actions against nations at peace with the United States. It warned American shippers and ship captains not to carry any articles deemed contraband to either of the belligerents. But missing from the proclamation were any concrete guidelines on the use of American ports by the navies of the belligerent nations. Nor did the proclamation spell out America’s policy on the sale of the cargoes of captured vessels or the arming of those vessels by their captors. It did not delineate who, the states or the federal government, would be responsible for enforcing its restrictions or for establishing the punishment for infractions. As spring ended, American foreign policy remained a product of trial and error, of reaction to circumstances as they arose, and of the difficulty of finding common ground within a deeply divided administration.
Both Hamilton and Jefferson submitted their written opinions on Genet’s reception before the deadline set by the president. Each took the opportunity to present arguments on other unresolved questions, and each anticipated the arguments of the other. Hamilton stressed the domestic instability of the current French government and the uncertainty of its success in the war it was waging. Under these circumstances, he believed the United States would be wise to consider the treaties with France temporarily and provisionally suspended. He was not even sure, he added, that the treaties were still valid. They had been signed with King Louis XVI, not with the revolutionary government that had deposed and executed him. Perhaps, he suggested, the treaties had died with the king. If the president did decide to honor them, Hamilton urged Washington to remember that the demands they laid upon the United States were limited: they bound the United States only to defend France if it were attacked; they did not commit the United States to support France in an offensive war. Hamilton ended on a Machiavellian note: supporting a losing cause might have dire consequences for us. If Britain won the war, the defeated revolutionary government would be unseated, replaced perhaps by a restoration of royalty. If that happened, “What would be our situation with the future Government of that Country?” But Hamilton reserved his most compelling argument for last: to receive Genet without qualifications would be read by the English as an open declaration of war.17
Jefferson took several equally shrewd positions in his arguments against suspension of the treaties. He denied that the United States was facing an all-or-nothing situation. We could, he argued, postpone decisions on certain troubling treaty issues without resorting to suspending them completely. He advised not to adopt a policy that defended against possible problems in the future, like a French defeat or a minister sent by the regent. He countered Hamilton’s warning of war with England by suggesting that France would consider treaty suspension a hostile act. He did not believe the treaty obligations would place the United States in direct conflict with the English. Article XI of the Treaty of Alliance, for example, pledged mutual protection of each other’s possession. But would a nation without a navy actually be called upon to defend the French West Indies? Article XXII of the Treaty of Amity and Commerce stipulated that the enemies of France could not equip privateers or sell prizes in US ports, but they contained no stipulation that the United States must grant France these privileges. Jefferson dismissed the idea that the treaties were now invalid because they had been signed with the late king. Treaties, he rightly pointed out, were made with nations, not particular governments. Finally, Jefferson warned of the domestic damage to America’s reputation if the government appeared more ready to make alliance with a monarch than a sister republic.18
Ultimately, Jefferson’s arguments, if not his underlying motives, carried the d
ay. Washington refused to renounce or suspend the treaties; in his judgment they were valid, even if the two nations involved did not agree on the interpretation of certain key clauses. Thus, when Citizen Edmond Genet at last presented his credentials in Philadelphia, he would be received without qualifications.
Despite their disagreement on fundamental matters, Hamilton and Jefferson both acknowledged that America was too weak and too vulnerable to openly engage in the European war on either side. Both understood the risks inherent in any policy decision that was too blatantly partisan—and both realized that America could not control how the belligerents interpreted the administration’s actions. But if these men agreed that a policy of neutrality was best, this did not prevent each of them from engaging in personal acts of partisanship. Both rationalized these actions as efforts to prevent American involvement in the war. To assuage any anger or concern on the part of Great Britain, Hamilton would provide British minister George Hammond with privileged information and inflated assurances of his personal control over the administration’s policies. For his part, Jefferson would labor to modify Genet’s expectations and his behavior, hoping to persuade the Frenchman that patience and cooperation would net far better results than insults and demands. He would persuade his fellow Virginian Edmund Randolph to support him in cabinet meetings against Hamilton and Knox, and he would pressure fellow Republicans to mobilize public support for France. Washington’s cabinet may have publicly supported a policy of neutrality, but in fleshing out that neutrality Jefferson and Randolph rallied to the tricolored flag, Hamilton and Knox to the banner of John Bull.19
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“The Republics of France and America: may they be forever united in the cause of liberty.”