The Glorious Cause (23 page)

There was nothing pleasant in Lee’s words. Deane glanced at Franklin, a brief shake of his head, and Franklin said quietly, “We must strive for appearances, Mr. Deane. I have done this sort of thing before. United front is most important.”

Lee turned now, said, “Yes, Dr. Franklin, you have done all of this before. Mr. Deane, we must be certain to watch and learn.”

There was hard sarcasm in Lee’s voice, and Franklin felt frustration, didn’t know what else to say. He turned again to the mirror, could see Lee’s back in the reflection, the man doing everything he could to create a gulf between them. Lee was somewhat younger than Deane, both men in their late thirties. Deane’s face was adorned with a pleasant openness, a soft roundness given easily to a smile. It was a sharp contrast to Lee’s stern glare, a tight aristocratic handsomeness that made him seem much older than Deane.

Franklin saw Deane again studying the intricate woodwork of the floor, busying himself with a mindless distraction. Franklin thought, We cannot demonstrate this sort of conflict to the French. Mr. Lee must surely know that.

Franklin had always known Lee to be a man who placed great value on his own abilities, but he thought, Does he truly believe this job is for him alone? Clearly I cannot counsel him. He assumes anything I say to be a show of vanity, as though we must go about these negotiations by my instruction only. If he is excluded from anything here, it is by his own doing.

He realized that they had been waiting for several minutes, felt a nervous twinge, thought, Is that their plan? Are we to be kept waiting as a show of our unimportance? It was a familiar annoying experience from his days in London. British officials delighted in making a disdainful show when confronted by any issue concerning the colonies. Surely, it cannot be like that here. They would not have invited us here just to humiliate us. I only hope we make a suitable impression. He glanced at himself in the grand mirror, thought, Well, old man, if you intended to make
this
impression, there could not be a more perfect setting than a house too beautiful to live in.

He was wearing a fur cap, a simple brown covering that did not hide the uncoiffed hair that straggled down to his shoulders. It was the most modest attire he could fashion together, a simple brown coat over a stark white shirt, none of the ruffles and lace and adornments the French elite considered a requirement for high fashion. If the French had not yet formed their own image of what an American was, Franklin invented one, and offered it to all of France with no embarrassment. There would be none of the fineries, none of the personal trappings of luxury, and certainly, nothing that would make him appear to have once been
English
.

He wore his spectacles always, kept them low on his nose, peered up over them to the tall ceiling. He marveled at the chandelier right above him, the one understated piece of décor in the room, a ring of tall candles emerging from a small explosion of glass beads, glittering like a mountain of diamonds. He moved to one side, thought, No doubt a capable craftsman fastened it securely. But anyone can have a bad day. No point in placing myself under anything whose sudden collapse could dice me into small bits.

He saw Deane and Bancroft moving toward a long table perched squarely in the center of the room. It was surrounded by ornate chairs, and Deane stood behind one, looked at Franklin, said, “Doctor, would you care to sit?”

Franklin shook his head.

“Not appropriate, Mr. Deane. We must endure the wait.”

Bancroft leaned close to Deane, said, “Protocol requires us to stand until our host has arrived.”

He appreciated Deane’s gesture as much as he appreciated Bancroft’s knowledge of decorum. He flexed his feet into the rug, bent his knee slightly, and a sharp pain ran all the way up his back. He looked at himself in the mirror again, frowned at the expanse of his waist, thought, Too many lavish dinners, too much standing about. I must return to my routine, the long walks. Perhaps this stiffness will be relieved.

There was a flurry of noise, and the tall glass doors swung open, servants stepping in quickly, standing to one side. More men appeared, with pads of paper, all of them falling into what seemed to be a reception line. Now another man appeared, said in a loud voice,
“Le Comte de Vergennes.”

The man seemed to be speaking to a roomful of people, and his voice drew the four men closer to the door. Franklin steadied himself behind one of the chairs, saw Vergennes appear in a rush, the man trying to gather himself. Vergennes looked at Franklin with utter horror.

“Oh, my word, Dr. Franklin! Forgive me! I was detained at the royal court. The queen insisted.” Vergennes seemed to catch himself, suddenly aware of the indiscreet comment, and the ears of his staff. He looked at the other three men, produced a smile, said, “On behalf of His Majesty, King Louis, welcome to Paris.”

He turned, said something in French, and two of his assistants seated themselves behind him, on either side of a small table that held their inkstands, each with a pad of paper perched firmly on one knee. The rest of the entourage was quickly gone, the double doors coming closed with a soft click. They had gathered close to the table, and Vergennes said, “Gentlemen, I sincerely apologize. You should not have been made to wait. Were you offered some refreshment?” He looked at Franklin now, said, “Please do not take offense, Doctor. This was an accident, nothing to be interpreted otherwise. You are as welcome here as anyone can be. Please, do sit down.”

Franklin was surprised, thought, Apparently he reads my thoughts. This might make things interesting.

“Please, Your Excellency, an apology is unnecessary. It is of no concern. We were enjoying your décor.”

Vergennes sat, the others followed, and Vergennes said, “Your kindness does not erase our rudeness, sir.”

Franklin felt himself settle into soft luxury, the strain in his legs letting go. Vergennes was still watching him, said, “Has your stay in Paris been to your liking, Doctor? Is there anything I can do to make you, any of you, more comfortable?”

The others did not speak, and Franklin fought the urge to make a poorly timed joke about sending a French army to invade England. He turned slightly in the chair, still easing the pains.

“I for one am quite satisfactory, Your Excellency. An old man’s bones have no sense of humor.”

Vergennes smiled again.

“Then we have already established one thing in common, Doctor.”

Vergennes was older than he expected, and Franklin saw sharp dark eyes focused on him through thick drooping lids, the look of a man who was always tired. Franklin looked toward the others, saw Deane nod to him, a signal that he expected Franklin to do the talking. Lee was simply staring down, and Franklin said, “If I may be allowed, Your Excellency. A formal introduction is in order. We come here as official representatives of the Congress of the United States of America, and are fully empowered by that body to propose and negotiate a treaty of commerce between France and the United States.”

Vergennes waited until the formal speech was complete, smiled again, said, “What would you propose of us, Doctor?”

“Your Excellency, we are waging a war for our survival. We could ask any willing government for an alliance that would sweep away our disadvantage in battle, but this we do not do.” Vergennes was all seriousness now, waited for Franklin to continue. “The financial credit of the United States is of paramount importance. We request assistance in the purchase of those goods which may assist us in fighting this war. As Your Excellency is certainly aware, Mr. Deane has been successful in his meetings with French business interests. In addition, the French government has shown a generous spirit by allowing American ships to anchor in French ports. We would ask that Your Excellency continue this generosity. Further, we would hope that Your Excellency might find the means of sending those ships back home laden with supplies.”

Vergennes waited for more, but Franklin was through, thought, That is sufficient for a first meeting. We must not overdo it. He sat back in the chair, looked at the others, could see a look of satisfaction on Deane’s face, the man who had already done so much to secure private funds. Deane’s job would be much simpler if France would desist from the intrigue and openly offer supplies and credit to the Americans. Lee looked up at Franklin now, seemed to wait for more as well. Franklin tilted his head, a gesture of politeness, said, “Do you have anything to add, Mr. Lee?” Lee pondered the question, and Franklin gripped the edge of the table, silently begged Lee not to say a word.

“Thank you, Doctor. Not at this time.”

Franklin let out a long breath. Thank you, sir. We cannot ask them for too much. This is not yet the time.

Vergennes was looking at him with a question on his face, and Franklin waited, knew the man was assembling the proper words, the skill of the diplomat.

“Doctor, please be assured I mean this as no offense. America is a vast land, and your resources have yet to be developed. I am confident that when your craftsmen and your farmers fully explore the potential of your country, you will be a valuable partner to any nation. But that is the future. The present offers a difficult portrait. In your current crisis, the one resource you can call upon is your strength of numbers. I would imagine your government could field an army many times the force required for your defense. There is curiosity here, Doctor. Why must America look beyond her own borders?”

It was a question Franklin had expected.

“Your Excellency, we take no offense. Your Excellency asks a simple question which has difficult answers. We represent a congress who must work within the authority granted to it by the states. There is no means for us to compel anyone to take up arms. There is a general feeling in the congress, and throughout America that the assembly of a professional army is a threat to the very freedoms we are fighting to secure.”

Vergennes pondered the statement.

“You cannot achieve your independence if you do not have the spirit to fight for it.”

“Your Excellency, no nation on this earth has accomplished what America is attempting to do. Where do we go for instruction, for guidance? Is there any nation prepared to offer us a model to follow, who can provide wise counsel for our congress, so that we may know how to build a nation? It may be that the only way for America to survive is to impress its citizens by force, to compel men to take up arms against their will. But such a success would cost us the very principles for which we fight. Is this a contradiction? Perhaps. The congress is not a professional government. It is composed of men such as those before you here.” He paused, thought a moment. “When the British were persuaded to evacuate Boston, the congress voted in celebration to grant General Washington a gold medal. To the General’s credit, he will not wear it. He beseeches us instead to put our gold to better use, to pay for clothes and food for his soldiers. I am embarrassed to admit to Your Excellency that we do not possess the means to do that. It is not simply a lack of spirit. It is a lack of experience, and a lack of resources. We are a nation of amateurs, fighting a war against an empire of professionals. If America survives, it will have to survive on the backs of the inexperienced. And, I must be candid, sir. We require assistance.”

The response came in less than two weeks, and he stared at the gold seal on the document in tearful disbelief. He read the words over again, thought, There must be conditions, some restriction, some clause here . . . but there was nothing beyond the simple and extraordinary decree. The French government had granted the American congress two million francs to assist them in their war effort, with a guarantee of two million more for each year the war went on.

He lowered the document, looked now at the courier, a young man sent by Vergennes to deliver the document.

“I suppose, sir, this is official.”

The man spoke only broken English, smiled now, said something that Franklin’s swirling mind would not grasp. Franklin looked again at the thick gold seal of King Louis.

“Well, yes. Of course this is official.”

The young man seemed ready to leave, and Franklin looked at him again.

“Young sir, please express my profound . . . our most esteemed . . .” He stopped, thought, Good God man, how does one respond to this?

“Please tell Count Vergennes that America thanks him.”

The young man seemed to be satisfied, was quickly away. Franklin closed the door, moved across the room to the window, could see the young man emerging from the hotel entrance, climbing now into a grand carriage. He backed away from the window, sat slowly in his soft chair. There was silence now, and he held the paper up, thought, This could change so much. And there’s no one here to show it to.

He tried to relax the spasms in his stomach, the utter thrill of the success. This will cause trouble at the French court, that’s for certain. The English will howl like wild dogs, and no one will be surprised if a war is declared either here or in London. But he would not think of that now, held the paper against his chest. He would have to write his own letter to the congress, a footnote to this document, send the papers on the fastest ship available. He thought of Vergennes. What did he say to the king? Was it a difficult job convincing Louis to open up his treasury? And what must we still do in return?

His mission was far from accomplished, but in his hand was the first success, the unmistakable message that America had found an ally. The door to the French court was slowly swinging open.