American Crisis

by William M. Fowler Jr.

  Against considerable odds, by the end of 1782 Carleton and Digby had managed to concentrate the majority of their forces at New York. Each day more loyalists trudged across the lines to crowd the city. Often hungry and destitute, some refugees made annoying demands. When one group sought additional food rations, Carleton, whose own supplies were growing scarce, declared he had nothing more to give them.59 His patience also ran short with the navy. When Digby suggested the general had not been sufficiently cooperative with him, Carleton gave a prickly response: “Are we not serving one master?”60 Such exchanges were rare, however. Carleton’s chief problem was keeping order in a city jammed with unhappy and frightened loyalists.

  Street disorders had become more common. Carleton had depended upon loyalist militia to police the city, believing that his regular troops could be better used manning fortifications. He was also aware that deploying regulars amid a civilian population could be problematic, particularly in a situation where so many of his soldiers were German mercenaries. To his dismay, when loyalist officers learned of independence they “sent word to the General that they would do no more Duty in Town,” forcing Carleton to weaken his defenses and bring “to Town” his own soldiers “to relieve the guards and posts.”61

  Like Washington, Carleton sought ways to maintain morale and discipline among thousands of idle troops whose chief interest was in going home from an “unfortunate war.”62 Even Robertson, Carleton’s most senior officer, was testy, lamenting to his friend Lord Jeffrey Amherst that keeping the army in New York was “not only useless but ruinous, an army without the hope of getting back America should not stay in it.”63 Drills and parades filled the time, as did constant digging to improve fortifications.

  While Washington and Carleton struggled to cope with unhappy soldiers and disgruntled officers, politicians across the Atlantic in Paris were engaged in secret talks inching the belligerents toward a peace settlement.

  Shelburne was living up to his reputation for duplicity. In his June 5 letter to Carleton and Digby, the one that had shattered the general’s ambitions to play negotiator and sent the loyalists into panic, he had admitted in confidence to the general and the admiral that he was trying to divide the American states from one another and the whole from France. Inexplicably for a man so deeply schooled in politics and diplomacy, when Shelburne sent Richard Oswald back to Paris at the end of June he gave him a copy of this letter, inviting him to share its substance with the Americans. He mistakenly believed that it would assure the American commissioners of his sincerity and convince them of his government’s willingness to grant independence. It backfired. Although the letter spoke of independence, it did not commit the king to unconditional independence, which was the American demand, and even worse it laid bare the ministry’s plan to divide the states and colonies from one another and all from France.64 As if this was not distressing enough, the wording in Oswald’s official commission authorized him to negotiate not with the United States but with “certain colonies in North America.”65

  At the time of Oswald’s return to Paris in July 1782, only two of the American commissioners were present, Franklin and John Jay. Adams was still at The Hague negotiating a loan with the Dutch, while the unfortunate Henry Laurens remained a prisoner in the Tower of London. Upon learning about the Carleton-Digby letters and the wording of Oswald’s commission, the astute Adams wrote, “[The British] are only amusing us.”66 Jay agreed. As usual, Franklin entertained a more generous interpretation. In an interview with Oswald Jay let loose on the king’s emissary and left him reeling. He was particularly astonished by Jay’s deep antipathy toward England. Jay had, reported Oswald, no “regard for England” and behaved “as if he had never heard of it in his life.”67

  The situation was ticklish. The peace commissioners were under the following instructions from Congress: “to make the most candid and confidential communications upon all subjects to the ministers of our generous ally, the king of France; to undertake nothing in the negotiations for peace or truce without their knowledge and concurrence; and ultimately to govern yourselves by their advice and opinion.”68 When shown Oswald’s imperfect commission, the French recommended that the Americans ignore the technicalities and begin negotiations. Jay would not agree and persuaded his fellow commissioners to stand with him. They defied their congressional instructions and rejected French advice. Jay explained to his friend Gouverneur Morris, “Had I not violated the Instructions from Congress their dignity would have been in the dust.”69 Until Oswald’s commission addressed the “United States,” he wrote to Robert Livingston, there could be no official negotiation.70

  Parallel to discussions with Oswald, Jay was also in conversation with the Spanish minister, the Conde de Floridablanca. While not an official ally of the United States, Spain in 1779, as a result of intense pressure from the French, entered the war against Great Britain. The two Bourbon monarchies had signed a secret treaty by which France agreed not to make peace until Spain recovered Gibraltar from Great Britain, information they did not share with the Americans.71 From his cryptic conversations with the Spanish envoy, Jay sensed duplicity at work, which heightened his suspicions toward the Spanish and the French.

  In a secret report to Shelburne the New York Tory minister John Vardill, one of Jay’s classmates at King’s College (soon to be Columbia University), described his former friend as “naturally controversial,” “obstinate,” and “indefatigable.”72 He was also, according to the editor of his papers, known for his “touchiness and vanity.”73 Jay’s encounters with Oswald, the emissary of the devious Shelburne, with Floridablanca, representing a nation whose only interest in the war was the return of a “pile of stones,” and with Vergennes, spokesman for a nation obsessed with a desire for revenge against the English, fed his natural suspicions. Jay quickly concluded that none of the European powers, friend or foe, had any interest in seeing a prosperous and independent America.

  Franklin found Jay’s testiness toward the French and Spanish to be disturbing, and he told him so, but the irascible Jay would not retreat. In a particularly blunt encounter he told Franklin that France could not be trusted; it had “no interest that we should become a great and formidable people.” The old doctor shot back that America must be “mindful of the generosity of France.” Jay’s response was direct and simple: “We have no rational dependence except on God and ourselves.”74

  In private meetings with Oswald Jay pressed home the absolute requirement of a new commission that recognized explicitly and without conditions the independence of the United States. Oswald, convinced that peace with America was at hand but might, if not seized, slip away, urged Shelburne to concede independence and prepare a new commission. The war in America was lost. Best, argued Oswald, to reconcile with the new nation and hopefully draw it to the bosom of the empire and away from the dreaded French. Ending the war in America would release the king’s forces to pressure the Spanish and French elsewhere to bring them to the table as well. Oswald was not a solitary voice. Benjamin Vaughan, a close friend to the earl, and an acquaintance of Franklin’s, was also in Paris. Vaughan was born in Jamaica, and his mother, Sarah Hallowell, hailed from a prominent New England family. Ostensibly a “private citizen,” Vaughan was in fact another set of eyes and ears for Shelburne, to whom he often reported. Vaughan echoed Oswald. The choice he reported was “good sense” or “ruin.”75

  Oswald’s sage advice, corroborated independently by Vaughan, pushed Shelburne toward conciliation. As an astute politician, however, he feared getting too far in front of his party. He also needed to be attentive to an obstinate king. Public opinion, too, had to be weighed, as national pride was at stake. At considerable risk Shelburne took the tiller and edged the nation toward peace. At an August 29 meeting Shelburne in a clever maneuver persuaded his cabinet colleagues to agree that if necessary, American independence should be recognized “unconditionally before the treaty.” Three weeks later, at a hastily called cabinet meeting on Septemb
er 19, Shelburne took the next step and told his colleagues that it was now necessary to alter Oswald’s commission to please the Americans.76 A week later Oswald had his new commission in hand, and negotiations began.

  With unwonted speed the talks moved ahead, and by October 8 a provisional draft treaty, drawn by Jay and approved by Franklin, was agreed upon. Contrary to Congress’s instructions, at no time during this intense period did Jay or Franklin consult with the French. The provisional treaty, however, did begin with the caveat that the treaty was not “to be concluded until his Britannic Majesty shall have agreed to the terms of peace between France and Britain.”77 The other provisions, in addition to recognizing independence, were extraordinarily generous. Great Britain granted the new nation fishing rights in Canadian waters and set boundaries in the North beginning at the St. John River over to the St. Lawrence and thence west at forty-five degrees to Lake Nipissing. On the western edge the line ran south along the Mississippi to thirty-one degrees and then east to the St. Marys River in East Florida. Most remarkable of all, Britain offered trade privileges to its former colonies, a provision undoubtedly urged by Oswald, who envisioned drawing the new nation into a close economic relationship if not dependency. The treaty made no mention of compensation for the loyalists; nor did any provision appear about the need to honor prewar debts owed by Americans to British merchants.78 Oswald signed the agreement and returned to England to submit the treaty to His Majesty’s consideration.

  Oswald’s largesse threw Shelburne and the cabinet aback. The ministers grumbled that their commissioner had abandoned the loyalists, forgiven huge American debts to British merchants, and surrendered vast territories for no good reason. Oswald had given everything and gotten virtually nothing in return. Oswald was dispatched back to Paris, and to “assist” him he was accompanied by Henry Strachey, a seasoned bureaucrat and one of ministry’s principal undersecretaries. According to Shelburne, he was a “proper and confidential person” upon whom the ministry could rely.79

  Shelburne was caught in a tight tangle. He was anxious to conclude a peace but not on the terms presented. Time was pressing in both Paris and London. Delay in Paris would annoy the Americans and provide an incentive for prolonging the war. At home he faced a vexing political problem. Parliament had been absent from the city since early July—a boon to a ministry pursuing controversial policies. Unfortunately, it was due to reconvene in early December. Shelburne had barely two months to complete a peace before that meddling body returned with “so many opinions and Passions supported by party and different mercantile interests that no negotiation can advance.”80

  The peace commissioners—John Adams, Franklin, Jay, and the two Englishmen, Strachey and Oswald—began deliberations on October 29 and worked day and night to reach agreement. Tories, debts, and the fisheries formed the core of disagreement, but even these were not sufficient to derail the talks. In a draft approved on November 4 compensation to loyalists went unaddressed, while in the matter of prewar debts Congress would recommend to the states that they open their courts to litigation where British creditors might seek compensation. Thanks to Adams, Americans retained the right of the fishery. In return, the commissioners consented to a new, less favorable, northern boundary that would run down the St. Lawrence and through the middle of the Great Lakes rather than along the forty-fifth parallel, thus giving up a good deal of territory in what is today the province of Ontario. Still absent at the table were the French.

  As they prepared to dispatch the November draft to London, Strachey and Oswald were uneasy. From the ministry’s perspective their work left much to be desired, particularly the points concerning debts and recompense to loyalists. Oswald answered his critics by saying that under the circumstances it was simply the best that could be expected.81

  On November 11, 1782, the cabinet reviewed the draft. Once again they discussed demanding compensation for loyalists. Whatever sympathy there might have been in the cabinet rooms for these unfortunates, the reality was that there was great risk in pushing the Americans on the issue. In most states loyalist property had been confiscated and the former owners driven away. As one angry American Whig put it, these “ancient idolaters” had to be purged.82 Jay and Franklin were no less fierce in their denunciation. The Tories were “savages” against whom “every American must set his face and steel his heart.”83 No one stood to speak on behalf of the loyalists lest the whole deal be defeated. It was obvious that notwithstanding the justness of their claims, the loyalists were to be thrown aside for the sake of peace. In the final language all that could be extracted from the Americans was that Congress would “earnestly recommend it to the Legislatures of the respective states to provide for Restitution” to the loyalists. In regard to debts, the statement read, “Creditors on either Side shall meet with no lawful Impediment to the Recovery of full Value … of all bona fide Debts.”84 No mention was made of trade. On Saturday November 30 the parties gathered at Oswald’s suite in the Grand Hotel Muscovite. As the representative of the “more venerable state,” Oswald signed first, followed in alphabetical order by Adams, Franklin, Jay, and Laurens.85

  In a curious twist William Temple Franklin, the twenty-two-year-old grandson of Benjamin Franklin and the illegitimate son of Governor William Franklin, was also present. Unlike his father, young Franklin had joined the American cause and was employed by his grandfather as secretary to the American commission. Having finished the business, the Americans were anxious to dispatch the treaty to Philadelphia, but before they could do so they needed to inform their French allies of the signing and explain to them why they had ignored Congress’s instructions and excluded them from the negotiation. They chose Benjamin Franklin for the mission.

  Paris was crawling with spies. From his own informants Vergennes was aware of the communications between the British and Americans across the Channel. Nonetheless, a few hours after the signing, when Franklin came to inform him of what had happened, he feigned surprise at the news. He asked that the Americans delay sending the treaty to Congress since its arrival and publication “might make the people in America think a peace was consummated.”86 France and England had yet to make peace. Vergennes’s request went unanswered, and the commissioners made their own plan.

  An American packet, the George Washington commanded by Captain Joshua Barney, had just arrived from Philadelphia. Barney’s arrival was a godsend to the commissioners. Benjamin Franklin, without consulting Vergennes, ordered Barney to take the treaty and prepare to return to Philadelphia as quickly as possible. To ensure safe passage, Franklin requested an official passport from the British. King George III consented and signed an elaborate document commanding that all “permit and suffer the Vessel called the Washington commanded by Mr. Barney belonging to the United States of North America, to sail from either of the ports of France to any Port or Place in North America.”87 Before Barney left, Franklin had the temerity to approach Vergennes to ask if the minister might want to take advantage of Barney’s safe-conduct voyage to send cash to Congress. Even this calloused minister of the king was a bit nonplussed at such audacity. Given that the Americans had thus far kept the French in the dark, Franklin’s request put Vergennes “at a loss” to explain their conduct.88 Never starved for words, Franklin responded that it would be a shame if this “great work” would be “ruined” by neglecting “a point of bienseance.” If the French did not give assistance, Franklin warned, “the whole edifice sinks to the ground immediately.”89

  While miffed at the Americans for their duplicitous behavior, Vergennes was impressed with what they had accomplished. The peace terms were even good for France, for it had succeeded in its goal of separating the colonies from Britain and thereby embarrassing and weakening its ancient enemy. If not completely victorious, the French were at least satisfied that the war was coming to an end.

  Spain, however, had not been accounted for. Vergennes had dragged the Spanish into the war by promising to help them recapture Gibraltar. After
besieging the British for more than two years, in September 1782 the allies made a “Grand Assault” on the fortress. The British commander, Sir George Eliot, threw back the attack, virtually destroying the entire attacking force. The repulse lifted the siege and made it clear to all that the British would hold the “Rock,” making it impossible for the French to fulfill their promise to return it to their Spanish ally. Despite the failure to take Gibraltar, the Spanish were adamant and pushed France to hold to the agreement, but it was of no use. With their naval superiority the British held an iron grip on Gibraltar, and they had no intention of surrendering it. Ever duplicitous, Vergennes was not even sure he wanted Spain to regain that prize, for as long as England was on the Iberian Peninsula Spain would be ill advised to stray from its French alliance. To placate the Spanish, Vergennes negotiated the return to them of the island of Minorca, which England had taken by the 1763 Treaty of Paris, and secured agreement with the British that Spain would take possession of both West and East Florida. The latter concession provided a welcome southern barrier to the new United States, while putting Spain in control of the entire coast of the Gulf of Mexico. In separate agreements in January 1783, Grenada, the Bahamas, and Montserrat—Caribbean islands captured by the French and Spanish—were returned to Great Britain. France’s net gain was the Caribbean island of Tobago and Senegal in West Africa. The Dutch, who had joined the war in 1780, regained possessions lost in the East Indies, but in recompense had to grant trading privileges to the English in that part of the world.90