by Jeff Shaara
Franklin had done his best to hide his despair over the news from America. The defeat of Washington’s army at Brandywine had erased any of the momentum from the victories in New Jersey. Franklin knew that around the French court, the friends of America were becoming more uncomfortable that their support for this rebellion might have unfortunate political consequences if their king suddenly turned his back on the whole affair.
They were to meet in the office of Conrad Alexandre Gerard, a subordinate of Vergennes, and one of the few French officials Franklin could speak to with complete frankness. Gerard did not share the stiff formality so common in the French court, seemed immune to the fear that his words might cause his king some indigestion. Despite Franklin’s deepening relationship with Vergennes, even in friendship, Vergennes seemed to couch his conversations in careful subtleties, precise and polite, but always with one eye toward the fragile temper of King Louis.
Gerard’s reception room was similar to that of Vergennes, more like the grand ballroom of some astonishing palace than any place devoted simply to business. When Franklin and Temple disembarked from their carriage, they were met by the customary secretary, the man gushing out his usual greetings, as though Franklin was the most influential visitor ever received at the palace. Franklin had heard it all before, assumed that the man’s patronizing flood of compliments was well rehearsed, the same delivery to any visitor. The man was always accompanied by an escort of soldiers, emphasizing the point that though Franklin might be a celebrated guest, the king’s security was still the priority.
It was Temple’s first visit to Versailles, and Franklin had one eye focused on his grandson as their escort led them through the extraordinary halls. Franklin had become accustomed to the fineries, the walls, floors and ceiling bathed in luxurious detail, but he expected Temple to gawk in wide-eyed wonder, assumed the young man would be as captivated by the grandeur as his hosts expected him to be. Instead, Temple seemed to focus on the soldier in front of them, and Franklin could see now he was matching the man’s steps, mimicking his march. The secretary was a tour guide as well, pointing out certain artifacts, explaining in thick English the history they passed. Franklin made a polite show of paying attention, annoyed that his grandson was not.
They reached the end of a long hall, and their escorts stood aside. The secretary motioned toward a grand entryway to the reception hall, and Franklin stepped in first, his eye caught by the rich scarlet draperies framing the enormous windows. The walls were a creamy white, bordered in gold, and much like Vergennes’ office, enormous mirrors stood between the windows. The secretary left them alone, the doors closing softly, and Franklin could hold his impatience no longer, said in a hushed voice, “Temple! Can you not show some respect? Are you so accustomed to palaces that you cannot at least pretend to be impressed?”
Temple seemed stung by Franklin’s scolding, looked around the room, said, “Yes, sir, I am impressed. I am impressed by how much money the French have spent decorating their halls. If America had this much gold in our treasury, the war would already be over. We would not need to come to this place to beg for our means.”
Franklin was shocked, stared at him for a long moment.
“My apologies, Temple. You are quite correct. It is an appropriate reminder.”
Temple was studying the room, and Franklin realized how much he cared for the young man, thought, A man indeed. Years ago Temple’s father William had accepted with perfect ease the appointment by King George as royal governor of New Jersey. Franklin had never been comfortable with his son’s attitude, as though by the appointment alone, William had earned the right to surround himself with such finery and baubles as these. Temple was William’s illegitimate son, a source of scandal that often came to life during the early days of the Revolution. But Temple had seemed immune to the controversies surrounding his father, had been doted on by a stepmother who placed a desperate value on social position. For the first time, Franklin understood that his grandson had seen past the absurdity of the façade, had formed his own opinions of the dangerous trappings of title. He was suddenly proud of the young man, thought, He is so . . . American. And you, old man, so accustomed to all this grandeur, if you become a bit too impressed, remember the wisdom from this . . . boy.
The door opened behind him, and a parade of men entered.
“Ah, Doctor, welcome yet again! And this young man is your grandson, yes?”
Gerard was all smiles, and Temple responded with perfect politeness, said, “I am honored to be allowed to attend, sir.”
Gerard smiled at Franklin, said, “His grandfather’s grace! Excellent! Please, let us be seated!”
Franklin saw Vergennes then, made a short bow toward the older man, who had said nothing yet, unusual, allowing his subordinate to make the first introductions. Vergennes returned his bow with a forced smile, said, “A pleasure as always, Doctor.”
He felt something uncomfortable in Vergennes’ words, thought, He has something on his mind. Well, let’s get to it. The chairs were pulled out, and Franklin waited for his hosts to sit, aware that Temple had done the same.
Gerard was still full of pleasantries, was speaking to Temple, the mundane questions about the young man’s experiences in Paris. Franklin did not hear the words, focused on Vergennes, could see that the older man was avoiding his gaze. Franklin said, “Excuse me, Your Excellency, Monsieur Gerard, but certainly you are aware that I have requested this meeting to resume that most unpleasant of my official duties. I must request in the strongest terms you will allow, that your government acknowledge and accept the terms we have previously requested. My country has a desperate need for an alliance with a foreign power. By all that His Majesty King Louis has generously provided, my congress is convinced that a formal alliance with France is the most suitable and desirable partnership we could achieve.”
Gerard glanced toward Vergennes, and Franklin was certain now, Yes, he has something to say, something official. Vergennes leaned forward, put his hands on the table, stared down at them for a moment, said, “Doctor, His Majesty continues to be concerned about the state of affairs in your country. You must certainly be aware that the loss of your capital city to the English is a blow to your cause not easily repaired. It would have been better had your army demonstrated some success against General Howe. His Majesty is concerned that your situation has worsened to such a level that the repayment of his generous loans to your cause may be in jeopardy.”
The word bored a deep hole in his brain. Loans. So, Louis has changed his mind. The generous grants of assistance have become loans. There was a silent moment, and Gerard said, “Ah, but of course, Doctor, your General Washington made an admirable assault at . . . yes, at Germantown. Quite impressive! Following up a defeat with an attack!”
Vergennes allowed Gerard to have his say, stared at the table in front of him, said, “It would have been better, of course, if General Washington had prevailed at Germantown.”
Franklin felt a cold sickness, a chill flowing down through his stiff legs. He had made an extraordinary effort to put the best appearances to the situation in Pennsylvania. It had been Gerard himself who had informed Franklin that Philadelphia had fallen, and Franklin had responded with a joke, that in fact, Howe had instead been captured by the city. There was a seriousness to the quip, Franklin desperate to communicate a different view to the French, that the fall of Philadelphia was not such a catastrophe after all. Howe’s occupation and defense of the city would surely cost more in British troop strength than it would gain them. But Franklin was not a military man, could not be clear in the details, could not paint a positive portrait of a loss that even he felt in some awful place. His daughter was there, young Benny’s family, and his aging sister Jane, and he had heard nothing from them since the reports of the horrible turn of events. But it was still his job to make a fight of a different sort, that if Washington had his struggles on the battlefield, Franklin must still wage a different war at Versailles. He looked
at Vergennes, could see the man’s discomfort. Yes, you know very well what you have said, the meaning of your new word. Loan.
Vergennes met his eyes for the first time, and Franklin saw regret, a hint of sadness. So, it may not have been your decision, you may not have agreed. But you had no choice, you have made it official. The king of France now believes an alliance is unwise. He took a deep breath. No anger, be careful. You must still do your job.
“Your Excellency, forgive me, but I detect a hesitation in Your Excellency’s words, something I have not heard before. Surely, His Majesty King Louis is aware still that an alliance between France and America will benefit both. The alternative is a tragedy that will destroy not only my country, but my people. If no one will support our struggle, if there is no hope that America can survive as an independent nation, our only recourse is a treaty with England. Regardless of how ruinous such a treaty is to my country, it will certainly be of great distress to France. England reunited with America will be a force that no other nation may hope to rival.” He sat back then, saw somber faces on both men. “It was not so long ago that France was compelled to yield to English might. King Louis might fear a return to those days. I assure His Majesty, as I assure anyone who hears my words. Unless America survives, France will always be at the mercy of English domination.”
He was exhausted, had not come to this meeting expecting such a change in French attitude. The smile was gone from Gerard’s face, who looked at Vergennes, then said, “Doctor, we are not so far removed from America that we do not feel its despair. But you are aware that if France enters a formal alliance with your country, it will commence a state of war between France and England. If America is defeated in battle, then King George will be free to use all of his resources against our valuable islands in the West Indies, and against France herself. His Majesty must weigh the risks. He must make wise alliances. King George has already done so. He has secured the service of the Hessians, the Anspachers, Waldeckians, Brunswickers, all who support England in her campaign. You see, Doctor, it is not merely a war against England that we risk.”
Franklin was fighting the anger, a hard effort to hold in his words. How can you toss out such feeble excuses for backing away from the alliance? He looked at Vergennes, knew that Gerard was only filling the empty space in the conversation, that Vergennes would ultimately be the only voice that would have weight with the king.
“Your Excellency, so much has already been done, so much of a foundation already laid. I had thought we were so very close, that the formal alliance was itself more ceremony than meaning.”
He knew he was oversimplifying, but he wanted Vergennes to say it, to make plain what the king’s position was. The old man responded.
“Doctor, without a formal alliance, France is still removed from the conflict. His Majesty has provided no soldiers, no warships. A formal alliance is a line that once crossed, cannot be undone.”
“Your Excellency, I hear the words, I appreciate the exercise in diplomacy.” He held back the words, fought his own frustration, saw the grim stare from Vergennes. “Your Excellency, I do not wish to offend, but I am fighting for my nation’s existence. Surely, Your Excellency would grant me the kindness to plead my position with honesty. France has an opportunity to lead the rest of Europe in an alliance against the greatest military power that none of you are able to defeat alone. You mention the Germanic lands, as though you fear monarchs whose only power is the gold they find by selling their citizens into military slavery. Such men are not to be feared, because they do not have the support of their own people. If I did not believe that, I would not be an American. Any despot who enriches himself at the expense of his people is not to be feared. He is to be reviled. Does Your Excellency require evidence of this? What of King Frederick of Prussia, who will not allow the Hessian troops to cross his soil, to use his ports? What of the Dutch, the Danes, what of Catherine of Russia? King George sought alliances with all of them, and was completely rebuffed. No one benefits from a powerful England. And if France does not assist us, if you turn away from this alliance, England may well maintain her power over my country. And, over yours.”
He felt sweat in his clothes, realized his hands were shaking. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he tried to focus the fog in his eyes, said quietly, “Your Excellency, my country is in desperate straits.”
His voice was shaking, and Temple put a hand on his shoulder now, said, “Grandfather . . . ?”
Franklin touched the young man’s hand, nodded slowly, said quietly, “It’s all right.”
Vergennes was watching him intently, and Franklin saw concern on the man’s face.
“I apologize for my impudence, Your Excellency.”
Vergennes started to speak, stopped, seemed to weigh his words.
“Doctor, I do not fault you for your passion. If we have witnessed one remarkable result of your conflict, it is the passion of your people for your cause. Do not be concerned. There is no offense taken in this room. But, Doctor, these words will remain in this room. His Majesty is very clear. France will not start a war by allying herself with a cause that is already drowning in defeat. If your cause can be achieved, France will gladly become your ally. We will do more than offer you arms and gold. But no nation will respect your independence until you demonstrate that your independence can be achieved.”
“Your Excellency is saying that France will assist us when we prove we no longer require your assistance.”
He stood slowly, Temple reacting quickly, helping him up. He steadied himself against the table, saw a sad resignation on Vergennes’ face.
“Doctor, I must serve my king.”
The meeting was over, and Franklin felt Temple holding him, guiding him to the door. The escort was waiting for them outside, and Franklin began to find his strength again, his legs more steady. He tapped his grandson’s arm, said quietly, “It’s all right. I can walk.”
They moved into the grand hall, and Franklin felt the lush carpet under his sore feet, was grateful for the one bit of luxury. The soldiers led them out slowly, the walk much longer than he remembered. They moved past the artwork, the porcelain and silk, and he ignored it all, focused on the floor in front of him, the slow march of the men who would lead him outside. His mind was already drifting toward Passy, to the gardens, the quiet, the solitude of his office. It is where a man goes to retire, he thought. Perhaps I will stay here, after all. I may not have the strength to go home, another difficult voyage. He thought of his sister now, fragile Jane, a woman of enormous sadness, relying so on her famous brother for survival. I hope you are safe, my dear. And Sally. At least my grandsons are with me, out of harm’s way.
Then he could see the sunlight, blue sky, the soldiers standing aside. He searched for his carriage, tried to pick out the one from a long row of carriages, thought, So many visitors, all the business of government, all those who preen and fawn before their king.
Temple was out ahead of him, the young man saying something to a driver. Franklin blinked against the brightness of the sun, thought, His eyes are sharper than mine. Good to have him along. I should tell him that. He started to say something to the young man, realized that Temple was farther away, directing the carriage out of the line, and he thought, I suppose it can wait. I had so hoped this would be a good experience for him, that his grandfather could show off a bit, perhaps impress this boy with all my vast skills at diplomacy. Instead, he will recall that I groveled to them. Begged. I should be ashamed.
The carriage was close, and Temple was beside him again, helping him as he climbed slowly up. Temple was in quickly, and Franklin felt the young man’s hand tugging at his coat, sealing him against the cold. He wanted to apologize, try to ease Temple’s disappointment, tried to put the words together, and Temple said, “I wish I could tell them . . . the congress, I mean. I wish I could tell them how you stood up to the French. The whole country should know.”
DECEMBER 4, 1777
The ship cam
e from Boston, had escaped the dangerous net the British navy had spread throughout the North Atlantic. Though the passengers were few, one man disembarked with serious purpose, and found the fastest means to reach Paris. His name was Jonathan Loring Austin, a Massachusetts attorney, schooled by the hand of John Adams. Austin made his way to Passy with one mission, to deliver the news to the American commissioners. The word had already reached every corner of the thirteen states, was still celebrated from barrooms and offices to the camps of soldiers. Burgoyne’s entire army had been defeated, and over five thousand British and Hessian troops had surrendered at Saratoga.
Within hours, all of Paris had heard the news. Franklin waited at Passy with renewed patience, hoped that word of the astounding American victory would bring a change in the attitude of King Louis. He was not disappointed. Within two days, Gerard came to Passy carrying Vergennes’ message of congratulations. Within a week, the foreign ministry was inviting the American envoys to present another proposal for an alliance, which Franklin sent by the hand of his grandson. In another week, Vergennes met Franklin, Deane, and Lee with the news that the government of France had sent envoys to King Charles of Spain. If Spain agreed to join France in declaring war on England, then both nations would form an official alliance with the United States of America. Franklin’s cautious enthusiasm gave way to a new despair. King Louis, whose lust for high-stakes gambling was legendary, was hedging his bets. Though the cheering for the American victory still rolled through the streets of Paris, at Versailles, the French court would only risk a war if total victory was a safe bet.
