A Sovereign People

by Carol Berkin

  —Genet banquet toast, May 1793

  ON THE SAME day Washington issued the Proclamation of Neutrality, he wrote to a friend in England. “I believe it is the sincere wish of United America to have nothing to do with the political intrigues, or the squabbles of European nations.” But the question remained: Would France and England respect American neutrality? The answer, it turned out, was no. France and England were engaged in a war whose stakes were even greater than those of the Great War for Empire that ended in 1763. Neither could afford to play fair, and both hoped to use America to their own advantage. Their competing policies were designed to make the United States a dependency rather than an independent entity in transatlantic affairs. The only choice they seemed to leave to the American government was which master the United States preferred.20

  Shortly after France declared war on England, Britain’s prime minister made clear his nation’s position on American shipping. Writing to George Hammond, the British minister to the United States, Lord William Grenville dismissed any notion of American neutrality on the high seas. He asserted England’s firm rejection of the principle of “free Ships making free Goods.” The British navy would not hesitate to capture American ships carrying any supplies to French ports that would, in his words, “enable the Enemies of this Country to carry on the War against Us.” There was even less hope that France would accept American neutrality. Genet’s actions in South Carolina had shown that he believed the treaties of 1778 gave him a wide berth in seeking both American naval and military support for the French cause. Although South Carolina governor William Moultrie reconsidered his collaboration with Genet after Washington’s proclamation of neutrality, the French minister was undeterred by news of the government’s policy. It did not alter his agenda; it only angered him.21

  Genet learned of the proclamation as he made his way to Philadelphia to belatedly present his credentials to the president. Rather than sail to the capital, Genet chose to send the Embuscade ahead and make the journey by land. Thus, while the cabinet was debating how to receive the French minister, Genet was basking in the affection shown to him by supporters along the route from South Carolina to Pennsylvania. Not everyone was charmed by him, of course. Writing to Alexander Hamilton, North Carolina congressman John Steele conceded that Genet had “a good person, fine ruddy complection, quite active and seems always in a bustle, more like a busy man than a man of business.” But Steele was not taken in by Genet’s conviviality. He had seen another side of the young Frenchman when Genet responded angrily to an insult to a countryman. “For a moment,” Steele wrote, Genet “deviated from his system which is I think, to laugh us into the war if he can.” Steele then summed up the American dilemma perfectly: “The best informed men in this State… continue uneasey [sic], from an apprehension that our political connection with France, and our commercial intercourse with England will place the United States in a delicate, if not a dangerous situation during the war.”22

  Steele may have resisted Genet, but hundreds of Philadelphians were eager to succumb to him. Their feverish enthusiasm offended Hamilton. “If we feel kind dispositions towards France for the assistance afforded us, in our revolution,” he wrote in an unfinished article intended for newspaper publication, “it will not do us honor to forget that Louis the XVI was then the sovereign of the Country—that the succour afforded depended on his pleasure.” The execution of that friend to America by the revolutionary government, Hamilton added, made “any extraordinary honors to the representatives of those who consigned him to so affecting a doom… as little consonant with decorum and humanity, as with true policy.”23

  The first director of the US Mint, the celebrated astronomer, inventor, and mathematician David Rittenhouse, disagreed with the treasury secretary. Rittenhouse was one of seven distinguished Republicans who greeted Genet and escorted him to his lodgings when he arrived in Philadelphia on May 16. There, as a large, cheering crowd gathered in the streets, Rittenhouse read a welcoming address. Genet responded, in his perfect English, with uncharacteristic modesty: “I am no orator and I should not at any time affect the language of eloquence.… I cannot tell you, gentlemen, how penetrated I am by the language of the address to which I have listened, nor how deeply gratified my fellow-citizens will be in reading so noble an avowal of the principles of the Revolution of France, and on learning that so cordial an esteem for her citizens exists in a country for which they have shed their blood and disbursed their treasures.” He then artfully combined assurance that France did not expect America to become a party to the war with a reminder that France “has already combated for your liberties.”24

  The speech, calculated to win the hearts of the crowd, drew loud shouts of support and even tears from Genet’s audience. Over the following week, delegations of admirers came to his hotel, and dinners were given in his honor. A banquet was held for officers of the Embuscade, and Americans and Frenchmen alike joined in the singing of the “Marseillaise.” The ship’s captain, Jean Baptiste Francois Bompard, invited a group of leading Philadelphians aboard, and the boatswain gave a speech, noting that many of the crew had “risked life and shed blood” for American independence—and were ready to do so again. At a banquet for Genet attended by two hundred people, toasts were made to “the people and the law,” “the people of France,” and “the Republics of France and America: may they be forever united in the cause of liberty.”25

  A very different celebration in Philadelphia that same week, honoring King George III’s birthday, paled by comparison. The toasts offered here were not to one but three Georges—George III, George Washington, and the evening’s host, George Hammond. Glasses were also raised to this lengthy toast to Washington’s foreign policy: “The Proclamation of neutrality: may the heart that dictated and the head that proposed it live long to enjoy the blessings of all true friends to humanity.” That head was understood to belong to Alexander Hamilton.26

  The response by Philadelphians to his arrival further persuaded Genet that the American public, if not its government, had cast its lot with France. A more seasoned diplomat might not have moved so quickly and surely to this conclusion, given the absence of most of the city’s influential merchants in the adoring crowds. A more cautious diplomat might have suspended his judgment until he met with the president and key cabinet members. A more thoughtful diplomat might have asked himself, Would the enthusiasm translate into compliance with the French agenda? But Genet’s boundless confidence in himself and in his mission skewed his perception of what was a far more fraught situation than he imagined it to be.

  Indeed, the Washington administration was already attempting to deal with British complaints about France’s apparent disregard for American neutrality or sovereignty. George Hammond reported that the French consul at Charleston had passed judgment on the legality of the sale of a captured British ship. He also alerted the administration that the French had fitted out a privateer at Charleston, manned it with several American citizens, and, when it captured a British vessel, had taken the prize back to Charleston. These complaints prompted Jefferson to send a long letter to the outgoing French minister, Jean Baptiste Ternant. In it, he reminded Ternant that he had already written protesting the capture of the British ship Grange by Genet’s own frigate, Embuscade, on the Delaware River. The government had ruled this a clear violation of neutrality and expected “the crew be liberated and the vessel and cargo restored to their former owners.” Although it is unlikely Jefferson doubted the truth of Hammond’s charges, he took pains to qualify the administration’s acceptance of them, declaring that the United States “have not full evidence” that the consul was guilty of overstepping his authority nor “perfect” information on the outfitting of a privateer at Charleston. And he assured Ternant that the US government did not believe “the French nation could be wanting in respect or friendship to us, on any occasion.” Still, he appealed to Ternant to prevent any such affronts to American authority in the future. It was a request that woul
d have little impact. Ternant was headed home, and the man chosen to replace him was on his way to Philadelphia. The retiring minister simply passed the letter along to his successor. Genet would do nothing to allay the administration’s concern.27

  Naturally, Hamilton took a far sterner view of France’s alleged infractions. In a memorandum to the president of May 15, he accepted the British minister’s information as completely reliable and insisted that the United States must comply with the demand for restitution of all prizes taken by privateers recruited on American soil. Genet’s actions in Charleston might be forgiven as they occurred before the proclamation was issued, but the case reported on May 8 by William Vans Murray of Maryland could not. Murray told Hamilton that a second prize vessel had been taken into custody as it sailed up the Choptank River on its way to be sold. The captain taking the ship upriver was an American with a French commission. By actions like these, Hamilton declared, France not only made the United States “an instrument of hostilities against Great Britain” but also gave serious insult to American sovereignty. “The jurisdiction of every Independent Nation within its own territories,” he wrote, “naturally excludes all exercise of authority, by any other Government, within those Territories.” How could French actions be excused or overlooked when “the equipping manning and commissioning of Vessels of War, the enlisting, levying or raising of men for military service, whether by land or Sea… [were] among the highest and most important exercises of sovereignty”? Citing the legal opinion of Emer de Vattel, the noted Swiss expert in international law, that “no person is to enlist soldiers in a foreign country without the permission of the sovereign,” Hamilton repeatedly characterized Genet’s actions as an injury, an affront, and an insult to the American government. If France were allowed to continue this behavior, Hamilton predicted it would soon feel free to commission American troops to invade Spanish and English territories. Anyone privy to Genet’s instructions would know Hamilton was right.28

  On May 16, amid the festivities welcoming him to Philadelphia, Citizen Genet sent his credentials to Jefferson. His brief cover letter was the first of at least eighty letters and memorials—many of them long and heated—that remain of his lengthy correspondence with the secretary of state. Two days later, Genet sent the French text of his credentials to George Washington. It is likely that he also presented Washington with two letters from the French government. The first, from the National Convention, announced the creation of the French Republic, justified the abolition of monarchy, and labeled the support for the American Revolution shown by king and court as deceitful and self-interested. It went on to declare the French Republic’s solidarity with America in the fight for liberty and linked the recent successes of the French army with America’s triumphs at Saratoga, Trenton, and Yorktown. After thanking the United States for its aid to beleaguered French colonies in the Caribbean, the letter expressed France’s eagerness to strengthen the commercial and political ties between the two countries. The second letter, dated January 13, came from the Provisional Executive Council. It assured the president that Genet had the authority to negotiate any agreement that would strengthen the “ties of friendship and commerce.” Genet’s success, the council added with less-than-subtle flattery, depended on the “virtuous and talented President” who had shown himself a friend to France.29

  Hamilton’s response to this correspondence was unambiguous. In a letter to an unidentified friend, he dismissed the comparison of France to America during its revolution. “Would to heaven that we could discern in the Mirror of French affairs, the same humanity, the same decorum the same gravity, the same order, the same dignity, the same solemnity, which distinguished the course of the American Revolution.” Hamilton saw instead “horrid and systematic massacres,” prompted by Marat and Robespierre, men who now held powerful positions in the French government. He compared them unfavorably to an idealized King Louis XVI, whom Hamilton lauded as benevolent and no enemy to liberty. The treasury secretary could see nothing to admire in the men who now wielded the “sword of fanaticism” to subdue citizens of other countries and confiscated religious treasures from their own nation’s churches. Passion, tumult, and violence defined their revolution, Hamilton wrote with obvious disgust, and the difference between the two revolutions was as great as the difference between “Liberty & Licentiousness.”30

  Jefferson, by contrast, was excited about Genet’s arrival. “It is impossible for any thing to be more affectionate, more magnanimous than the purport of his mission,” he wrote James Madison on May 19. Genet had pledged that France would not call on the United States to help defend the French islands in the Caribbean. He had gone further, assuring Americans that the French “wish you to do nothing but what is for your own good, and we will do all in our power to promote it.” Jefferson was delighted to learn that Genet believed Americans “the only persons on earth who can love us sincerely & merit to be so loved.” In Jefferson, these words produced profound optimism. In his view, Genet was offering the United States everything and asking nothing in return except a deeper commitment to liberty. Jefferson would soon have reason to regret that the charming Citizen Genet had been made the spokesman for his country’s cause.31

  Jefferson was not without worry, however. He surely regretted his failure to prevent a proclamation of neutrality, for he now realized the policy must be enforced. If it were not, American control over its foreign relationships would not be taken seriously. And, by its very nature, the neutrality policy meant little if its reach were not extended. It was not enough to forbid American citizens from engaging in the European war; the administration also had to make an unequivocal statement on the outfitting of privateers and the disposition of prizes brought into American ports. This proved to be the agenda for the next cabinet meeting, probably held on May 20.32

  Before the meeting, Jefferson had been confident that Genet’s actions in Charleston could be considered only a “slight offense.” His notes from the cabinet meeting reflected his belief that French citizens residing in America had the right to buy, arm, and man privateer vessels with their own money. He believed the United States should impose only one condition on these French patriots: they must not commit acts of hostility within the limits of the United States. Jefferson ended these notes with a musing on motives and conspiracies. Who would profit from a sharp reprimand of the French minister? For Jefferson, the answer was obvious: England. And this led him to other, darker questions: Are we the dupes of England? Is England prodding us into reprimands of Genet that will force France to attack us? These questions reflected a realization, perhaps dimly recognized, that the United States was not the master of its own fate.33

  Hamilton and Knox saw the issue of enforcement far differently. According to Jefferson’s notes, they insisted that France must either give up a prize taken by a privateer, or the privateer and the prize must leave the United States immediately. In this instance, Edmund Randolph broke ranks with Jefferson and urged that the privateer be sent away. The crucial opinion was Washington’s, and the president agreed with his attorney general. In fact, Washington was ready to go further. Soon after the cabinet meeting, Jefferson had the duty of reporting the president’s decision to Genet: all French privateers commissioned in the United States must be withdrawn from American ports in order to preserve American neutrality. Once again, the secretary of state had found himself conveying a policy he personally opposed.34

  5

  “Our common enemies are trying to dampen American zeal for liberty.”

  —Edmond Genet, May 1793

  ON MAY 22, Edmond Genet began what became a steady flow of correspondence to Jefferson that revealed French determination to shape American foreign policy. In this opening salvo, Genet proposed a redirection of American trade and a major change in the management of American debt. The French government, he wrote, had decided to bolster American trade revenue by drawing “the greatest part of the subsistence and stores necessary for the armies, fleets and colo
nies of the French republic from the US.” This was, of course, a transparent attempt to portray French need as French generosity. The funds for these purchases, however, were to come from the money America owed to France. Genet was demanding a change in the payment arrangement: America must fully liquidate its Revolutionary War debt rather than continue to make fixed annual payments. As Genet saw it, this proposed change operated more to the benefit of the United States than to France: it would enrich American citizens, raise the value of their products and their land, and break what he characterized as England’s stranglehold on the American economy. These proposals were couched in a rhetoric that would become painfully familiar to Jefferson. “It is time, Sir,” Genet told the secretary of state, “that this commercial revolution, which I consider as the completion of your immortal political revolution, should accomplish itself in a solid manner; and France appears to me to be the only power which can operate this incalculable good.”35

  If Genet expected instant compliance, he was destined to be disappointed. Clearly impatient, he followed this letter with another rhetorically rich missive on May 23, in which he explained the urgency and the righteousness of his request. France, he wrote, stood alone “against innumerable hordes of tyrants and slaves who menace her rising liberty.” In such a dire situation, the French nation had the right to claim the obligations to assist France imposed on the United States by the treaties of 1778. France, he reminded Jefferson, had cemented those treaties with its blood. “But at a time when our common enemies are trying to dampen American zeal for liberty,” his own country sought to increase American prosperity and add to the happiness of the American people. Although the “perfidious ministers of despotism”—that is, England—have tried to stop the progress of commerce between France and America, they have failed. Instead, the French Republic has opened all her ports in Europe and in the Caribbean to American vessels, granting them all the favors French citizens enjoy. Echoing his earlier speeches to cheering Philadelphia crowds, Genet declared his mission was to establish “a true family compact” between the two nations.36