The Glorious Cause (36 page)

“Doctor! Dr. Franklin!”

The woman’s voice was familiar, and he saw the flutter of silk, a bright yellow flower moving toward him.

“My word, Madame Brillon! How very . . . surprising to see you.”

She moved close, took his arm, and Franklin was suddenly self-conscious, overwhelmed by a wave of her perfume, the stiff tower of her hair soaring high above them both. Temple began to back away slowly, and Franklin said, “Temple, you recall my friend, Madame Anne-Louise Brillon. What, my dear madame, has brought you away from Passy?”

“Really, Doctor, do I require an excuse? My husband is scarcely aware if I am home or not.” She laughed now, a girlish giggle, and he felt her grip tighten.

“You exaggerate, madame,” then thought, Well, no, she does not. Her husband was an assistant to a government minister, connected to the dreary operations of the king’s treasury, a much older man than the energetic woman who still held tightly to Franklin’s arm. Franklin had assumed her to be in her thirties, and from their first meeting in Passy, she had placed a strong grip on both his arm and his daydreams. He knew that Temple’s daydreams had run rampant as well, and more than once Franklin had to insist to his grandson that Madame Brillon was much more of a daughter to him than anything scandalous. If he did have scandalous thoughts, he was not about to reveal them to his grandson.

“Do come, Doctor! Mr. Gibbon is a most fascinating man! I had thought him to be much older, but he is far closer to my own age than . . . I mean, such insight into history . . .”

Franklin would not let her be embarrassed, interrupted, “Yes, that explains the costumes at the door. Roman. A salute to his work.”

She gripped him hard again, said, “Oh, Doctor. You know how much I am drawn to men of experience.”

He glanced at Temple, felt a rising heat on his face, said, “I should enjoy meeting Mr. Gibbon. However, it is not acceptable for me to invite myself. There might be some Englishmen present who would find my company to be objectionable.”

“Nonsense, Doctor!” She released him now, said to the clerk, “Excuse me, young sir, I would like to carry a note from Dr. Franklin to Mr. Gibbon.”

The young man dropped the bags, an unceremonious thump beside Franklin, returned to his desk, tore through papers, scrambled to find something suitable, then produced a pen, said, “Madame, please proceed. I will write.”

Franklin could see a blush on the clerk’s face as well, thought, Yes, young man, she has that effect. She took Franklin’s arm again, her softness melting him, and she dictated to the clerk, “Doctor Benjamin Franklin requests the honor and the pleasure of a meeting with Mr. Gibbon.”

It had been nearly an hour, and Temple had retired to their room, the young man’s endurance not what Franklin had hoped. He sat alone in the lobby, thought, Historians, even English ones have some value, surely. I should instruct my grandson to show respect. One day he might regret his impatience.

Madame Brillon had returned angrily to the reception. Her patience had become exhausted as well, more insulted than Franklin himself for his being made to wait just to enjoy the company of the famous author. He was fighting the rising tide of sleep, the chair beneath him more comfortable with each tiring moment. He fumbled for his watch, but his tired eyes would not see the details, and the effort to retrieve his spectacles was simply too much work. He found himself thinking of Madame Brillon’s anger, relieved that it had not been directed at him. She is most charming, he thought, a thoroughly delightful companion. His eyes were closed now, and he was breathing in the scent of her perfume, was suddenly jarred awake by a burst of sound. He pulled himself upright in the chair, could see her marching toward him from the long hall, a flurry of motion, and she was there now, the clerk following her, nervous, a paper in his hand.

“Really! I am offended, Doctor! How dare anyone suggest . . . oh, the arrogance!”

Franklin took the note from the clerk, read aloud, “It is with regret that though I hold much admiration and respect for the good doctor, I cannot place myself in conversation with a man so identified with the rebel cause. Though I would enjoy such a meeting, I must maintain the strictest loyalty to my king. Edward Gibbon.”

Madame Brillon made an angry sound, said, “To think that I made this journey just to pay my respects to such a man! How utterly rude!”

Franklin stared at the paper, said, “My dear, I am a subscriber to the rhetorical skill that is best described as the
last word
. Young man, allow me a moment, then I would ask you to return to the reception, and convey my response.” He wrote,

Mr. Gibbon. I have read your note with understanding. As much as I admire your previous work involving the fall of Rome, I should like to offer, that when you take up your pen to write the Decline and Fall of the
British
Empire, I shall gladly furnish you with the ample materials in my possession. Benjamin Franklin

He took Temple with him to the meeting with Vergennes, had already made good use of his grandson as his personal secretary. He knew that Arthur Lee suspected every servant, every employee around any of them as being a spy, while Deane seemed to ignore completely the same threat. Franklin found himself somewhat in the middle, but a secretary was a position too important to be filled carelessly. Temple had solved his dilemma. What the boy lacked in worldliness, he compensated for in loyalty and an inexhaustible desire to please.

Over the past few months, the meetings with the French court had produced little in the way of progress, and certainly nothing that should be kept from the ears of anyone’s secretary. It was a growing frustration for Franklin, as it had been for the other commissioners as well. Lee’s mission to Spain had been a complete failure, the Spanish king refusing even to meet with an American representative, even more hesitant than the French about provoking the anger of King George III. Lee had resumed his mission in another direction, traveling on to Berlin. He went at the invitation of the Prussian King Frederick, who had a legendary hatred for the English monarch. But Lee’s efforts were futile there as well, Frederick reluctant to widen a war that so many in Europe believed was simply an English problem.

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
.