Thus briefly must be dismissed the extensive and important toil of eighteen months, probably the busiest of Franklin's long and busy life. In September, 1776, he was elected envoy to France, and scant space is left for narrating the events of that interesting embassage.
[CHAPTER IX]
MINISTER TO FRANCE, I DEANE AND BEAUMARCHAIS: FOREIGN OFFICERS
It is difficult to pass a satisfactory judgment upon the diplomacy of the American Revolution. If one takes its history in detail, it presents a disagreeable picture of importunate knocking at the closed doors of foreign courts, of incessant and almost shameless begging for money and for any and every kind of assets that could be made useful in war, of public bickering and private slandering among the envoys and agents themselves. If, on the other hand, its achievements are considered, it appears crowned with the distinction of substantial, repeated, sometimes brilliant successes. A like contrast is found in its personnel. Between Franklin and Arthur Lee a distance opens like that between the poles, in which stand such men as Jay and Adams near the one extreme, Izard, William Lee, and Thomas Morris near the other, with Deane, Laurens, Carmichael, Jonathan Williams, and a few more in the middle ground. Yet what could have been reasonably expected? Franklin had had some dealings with English statesmen upon what may be called international business, and had justly regarded himself in the light of a quasi foreign minister. But with this exception not one man in all the colonies had had the slightest experience in diplomatic affairs, or any personal knowledge of the requirements of a diplomatic office, or any opportunity to gain any ideas on the subject beyond such as a well-educated man could glean from reading the scant historical literature which existed in those days. It was difficult also for Congress to know how to judge and discriminate concerning the material which it found at its disposal. There had been nothing in the careers of the prominent patriots to indicate whether or not any especial one among them had a natural aptitude for diplomacy. The selection must be made with little knowledge of the duties of the position, and with no knowledge of the responsive characteristics of the man. It was only natural that many of the appointments thus blindly made should turn out ill. After they were made, and the appointees had successfully crossed the ocean through the dangerous gauntlet of the English cruisers, there arose to be answered in Europe the embarrassing question: What these self-styled representatives represented. Was it a nation, or only a parcel of rebels? Here was an unusual and vexatious problem, concerning which most of the cautious royal governments were in no hurry to commit themselves; and their reticence added greatly to the perplexities of the fledgling diplomats. Nearly all cabinets felt it a great temptation to assist the colonies of the domineering mistress of the seas to change themselves from her dependencies into her naval rivals. But the attempt and not the deed might prove confounding; neither could a wise monarch assume with entire complacency the position of an aider and an abettor of a rebellion on the part of subjects whose grievances appeared chiefly an antipathy to taxation.
From the earliest moment France had been hopefully regarded by the colonists as probably their friend and possibly their ally. To France, therefore, the first American envoy was dispatched with promptitude, even before there was a declaration of independence or an assumption of nationality. Silas Deane was the man selected. He was the true Yankee jack-at-all-trades; he had been graduated at Yale College, then taught school, then practiced law, then engaged in trade, had been all the while advancing in prosperity and reputation, had been a member of the First and Second Congresses, had failed of reëlection to the Third, and was now without employment. Mr. Parton describes him as "of somewhat striking manners and good appearance, accustomed to live and entertain in liberal style, and fond of showy equipage and appointment." Perhaps his simple-minded fellow countrymen of the provinces fancied that such a man would make an imposing figure at an European court. He developed no other peculiar fitness for his position; he could not even speak French; and it proved an ill hour for himself in which he received this trying and difficult honor. By dint of native shrewdness, good luck, and falling among friends he made a fair beginning; but soon he floundered beyond his depth, committed some vexatious blunders, and in the course of conducting some important business at last found himself in a position where he had really done right but appeared to have done wrong, without being free to explain the truth. The result was that he was recalled upon a pretext which poorly concealed his disgrace, that he found even his reputation for financial honesty clouded, and that his prospects for the future were of the worst. He was not a man of sufficient mental calibre or moral strength to endure his unmerited sufferings with constancy. After prolonged disappointments in his attempts to set himself right in the opinion of the country, he became embittered, lost all judgment and patriotism, turned a renegade to the cause of America, which had wronged him indeed, but rather in ignorance than from malice, and died unreconciled, a broken and miserable exile. Such were the perils of the diplomatic service of the colonies in those days.
Deane arrived in France in June, 1776. He had with him a little ready money for his immediate personal expenses, and some letters of introduction from Franklin. It was intended to keep him supplied with money by sending cargoes of tobacco, rice, and indigo consigned to him, the proceeds of which would be at his disposal for the public service. He was instructed to seek an interview with de Vergennes, the French minister for foreign affairs, and to endeavor with all possible prudence and delicacy to find out what signs of promise the disposition of the French government really held for the insurgents. He was also to ask for equipment for 25,000 troops, ammunition, and 200 pieces of field artillery, all to be paid for—when Congress should be able! In France he was to keep his mission cloaked in secure secrecy, appearing simply as a merchant conducting his own affairs; and he was to write home common business letters under the very harmless and unsuggestive name of Timothy Jones, adding the real dispatch in invisible ink. But these commonplace precautions were rendered of no avail through the treachery of Dr. Edward Bancroft, an American resident abroad, who had the confidence of Congress, but who "accepted the post of a paid American spy, to prepare himself for the more lucrative office of a double spy for the British ministers."[38] Deane, going somewhat beyond his instructions to correspond with Bancroft, told him everything. Bancroft is supposed to have passed the information along to the British ministry, and thus enabled them to interpose serious hindrances in the way of the ingenious devices of the Frenchmen.
Before the arrival of Deane the interests of the colonies had been already taken in hand and substantially advanced in France by one of the most extraordinary characters in history. Caron de Beaumarchais was a man whom no race save the French could produce, and whose traits, career, and success lie hopelessly beyond the comprehension of the Anglo-Saxon. Bred a watchmaker, he had the skill, when a mere youth, to invent a clever escapement balance for regulating watches; had he been able to insert it into his own brain he might have held more securely his elusive good fortunes. From being an ingenious inventor he became an adventurer general, watchmaker to the king, the king's mistresses, and the king's daughters, the lover, or rather the beloved, of the wife of the controller of the king's kitchen, then himself the controller, thence a courtier, and a favorite of the royal princesses. Through a clever use of his opportunities he was able to do a great favor to a rich banker, who in return gave him chances to amass a fortune, and lent him money to buy a patent of nobility. This connection ended in litigation, which was near ruining him; but he discovered corruption on the part of the judge, and thereupon wrote his Memorials, of which the wit, keenness, and vivacity made him famous. He then rendered a private, personal, and important service to Louis XV., and soon afterwards another to the young Louis XVI. His capacity for secret usefulness gave him further occupation and carried him much to London. There he wrote the "Barber of Seville," and there also he fell in with Arthur Lee and became indoctrinated with grand notions of the resources and value of the colonies, and of the ruin which their separation must inflict upon England. Furthermore, as a Frenchman he naturally consorted with members of the opposition party who took views very favorable to America. With such corroboration of Lee's statements, Beaumarchais, never moderate in any sentiment, leaped to the conclusion that the colonies "must be invincible," and that England was "upon the brink of ruin, if her neighbors and rivals were but in a state to think seriously of it." At once the lively and ambitious fancy of the impetuous Frenchman spread an extravagant panorama of the possibilities thus opened to England's "natural enemy." He became frenzied in the American cause. In long and ardent letters he opened upon King Louis and his ministers a rattling fire of arguments sound and unsound, statements true and untrue, inducements reasonable and unreasonable, forecastings probable and improbable, policies wise and unwise, all designed to show that it was the bounden duty of France to adopt the colonial cause. The king, with no very able brain at any time, was very young and wholly inexperienced. He gazed bewildered at the brilliant pageantry of Beaumarchais's wonderful and audacious statecraft, and sensibly sought the advice of his ministers.
De Vergennes set out his views, in agreement with Beaumarchais. He declared that France now had her opportunity to reduce her dangerous rival to the place of a second-rate power. To this end it was desirable that the rebellion should endure at least one year. The sufferings of the colonists in that period would so embitter them that, even if they should finally be subdued, they would ever remain a restless, dangerous thorn in the side of England, a bond with a heavy penalty effectually binding her to keep the peace. To make sure that neither side should move for peace before this one valuable year of warfare should have been secured, it was the policy of France to maintain a pacific front towards Great Britain, thus relieving her from any fear that the colonies would obtain a French alliance, but clandestinely to furnish the insurgents with munitions of war and money sufficient to enable and encourage them to hold out.