History That Doesn't Suck - 14: Peace in Paris; Turmoil in New York

Episode Date: March 14, 2018

“I have not only grown gray but almost blind in service to my country.” This is the story (or tale) of two cities. In Paris, Ben Franklin, John Adams, John Jay and (briefly) Henry Laurens negotiate the terms of American independence. They’ll outmaneuver the greatest powers on earth and defy Congress as they negotiate the greatest achievement in American diplomatic history. Meanwhile, officers in the Continental Army are done with Congress’s broken promises. They’re even considering violence … could a military coup end the American experiment before the peace treaty is even signed? Help us George Washington. You’re our only hope. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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I invite you to join the Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. The angry chatter of the Continental officers all gathered in a large assembly room is nearly overwhelming. They are so sick of Congress's broken promises and failure to deliver on almost anything for the past several years. Food, clothes, even payment. And all of these failures in a rich country, no less. Ugh. Congress and its lies. So now, with the war ending, how can these officers trust Congress to come through on their

long overdue back pay or the pensions promised to them? Maybe it's time to stand up to Congress. At least, that's what some anonymous letters circulating through camp the past few days are urging. They suggest that, if the British attack again, the whole Continental Army should just head out west and leave both Congress and the states to deal with it. Yeah, suck on that, Congress. Or, if things stay calm, maybe the Continental Army just doesn't disband. So the officers have gathered today to first hear a report from General McDougal all about his meeting with the Congressional Committee, but then, make no mistake, they will talk about doing something. Maybe even threatening a military takeover.

So much for America's experiment with representative government. It's March 15th, 1783, and we're in Windsor, New York. It's about 60 miles north of still British-occupied New York City, and just two or three miles west of the Hudson River. It's been a year and a half since the decisive battle at Yorktown, but the definitive peace treaty is yet to be signed. George has settled hisinental forces here in order to keep an eye on the British Army's headquarters. The Continental Army's camp, or rather settlement, at New Windsor consists of 600 cabins and a large rectangular meeting house built of wood called the Temple of Virtue. And this is where the officers are meeting today.

It's noon and time to start. The officers quiet down as a general stands on the small stage at the front of the room to call the meeting to order. Oh, and that general is Horatio Gates. What? Horatio? You remember him, right? We last saw him two years ago riding at a full gallop as he fled the Battle of Camden and left his army at the mercy of British Commander Lord Cornwallis. Well, his star no longer shines, but his political connections kept him from being thrown out of the military altogether. Now he's here with the Continental Army in New Windsor, and like the officers in this room, he's willing to threaten Congress. Just as Horatio is set to begin, an immaculately dressed and towering figure appears in the

doorway. It's George Washington. The now over 50-year-old Virginian, approaches the small stage, ascends its two steps, and asks Horatio if he might address the men. Well, it's kind of hard to say no to the commander-in-chief. Horatio gives George the floor. George's presence is quite the surprise, and for the most part, the officers love George. They have since he took command in Cambridge eight years ago. Some even want George to be king, the patriot king of America. But instead of taking the crown, George has stood fast by the same Congress that seems to not care about their suffering. Because of that, the unsigned letters circulating in camp even disparage George, and at this moment, for the first time ever, the officers are not happy

to see their commander-in-chief. Despite the palpable tension in the room and the sea of discontent officers glaring at him, George undertakes the onerous task of addressing them. He speaks with uncharacteristic passion and starts by refuting the letter's harsh words against him and by reminding them of his love and sacrifice for them. As I have never left your side one moment, but when called from you on public duty, as I have been the constant companion and witness of your distresses and not among the last to feel

and acknowledge your merits, as I have ever considered my own military reputation as inseparably connected with that of the army, as my heart has ever expanded with joy when I have heard its praises and my indignation has arisen when the mouth of detraction has been opened against it. It can scarcely be supposed, at this late stage of the war,

that I am indifferent to its interests. No change in the least. George is met only by cold, silent, and hard faces. He continues his prepared remarks, now arguing that the letter's call to endanger or threaten Congress undermines what they've fought to create. To quote, My God!

What can this writer have in view by recommending such measures? Can he be a friend to the army? Can he be a friend to the army? Can he be a friend to this country? Rather, is he not an insidious foe? The officers still only glower at George. He must have a pit in his stomach by now. Every moment longer he fails to convince them as a step closer to a potential military dictatorship in America. George tries a civics lesson and urges patience with Congress. Quote, like all other large bodies, where there is a variety of different interests to reconcile, their deliberations are slow. Why then should we

distrust them? Close quote. Still nothing. Finally, he makes an appeal to their patriotism to give Congress one more chance to do its job. Quote, you will give one more distinguished proof of unexampled patriotism and patient virtue, rising superior to the pressure of the most complicated sufferings. And you will, by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion for posterity to say, when speaking of the glorious example you have exhibited to mankind, had this day been wanting, the world had never seen the last stage of perfection to which human nature is capable of attaining.

Close quote. George has finished his speech. He's had no effect at all on the officers. Their scowls are as fierce as they were at the start. I can only imagine George's fear, consternation, and trepidation as he thinks of the burgeoning republic he's fought and sacrificed for, dying at the hands of militarized tyranny. George now reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it. He stares down at it, but something's off. George looks confused.

The officers don't know what he's doing. They lean forward and stare at him intensely. What is George doing? Why is he standing there silently looking at this paper? Finally, a few words escape his lips in a stammer. Dear sir, your favors of the 14th. Dear sir, your favors of the 14th. Oh God, what's happened to George? Well, we're going to figure that out. But first, we need to grasp the very real threat still facing the young, fragile, and broke-as-hell United States in the two years immediately following the Battle of Yorktown.

Primarily, we'll see this play out in Europe, where America's first diplomats, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, John Adams, and briefly, Henry Lawrence, are fighting for America's interests against those of the far more powerful British, French, and Spanish empires. But when we get done in Paris, we'll rewind to 1781 so we can understand how George has come to his present situation of facing down an army that's considering overthrowing Congress. So shall we? Let's leave 1783 New York for 1781 Europe. Rewind. The Franco-American victory at Yorktown devastates King George III's government. The news arrives in London a month after the battle on Sunday, November 25th, 1781. It is this very afternoon that our Prime Minister, Lord North, exclaims,

Oh God! It is all over! It is all over! But if you think His Majesty is ready to call it quits, think again. Two days later, King George addresses the combined House of Lords and House of Commons at Westminster. By the way, if you are picturing this speech happening inside the gorgeous Gothic Revival Palace of Westminster that includes the Big Ben clock tower and sits on the edge of the River Thames in London, let me point out that this palace doesn't exist yet. We are at the same site, yes, but we are in the old palace, which will burn to a crisp in the 1830s, so the beautiful and iconic structure still there in the 21st century is yet to be built. Anyhow, in speaking to his lords and gentlemen, King George refers to the defeat and capture of Lord Cornwallis' army at Yorktown as a, quote, late misfortune that calls loudly for your firm

concurrence and assistance to frustrate the designs of our enemies, equally prejudicial Yes, the king wants their continued support to, quote again, to restore to my deluded subjects in America that happy and prosperous condition which they formerly derived from a due obedience to the laws. Yeah, that's not happening. Instead, the king's government collapses within the next few months. On February 27, 1782, Parliament declares all who still advocate an offensive in America as enemies to Britain. Parliament also gives its blessing to peace negotiations with, quote, the revolted colonies of North America, close quote. Come March, Lord North resigns as Prime Minister

and is replaced by the pro-American Charles Watson Wentworth, Marquess of Rockingham, who, as we discussed in episode 2, oversaw the repeal of the Sugar and Stamp Acts back in 1766. Although he doesn't go through with it, King George even writes a letter of abdication. Nonetheless, with a new prime minister, peace negotiations can begin in Paris. The next month, in April, British negotiator Richard Oswald makes his way across the English Channel to the French capital. Richard's previously lived in America and is a retired, one-eyed Scotsman who became super wealthy through government contracts and the slave trade.

Richard's charismatic and likable. He isn't keen on American independence, but he does want the war to end already. He's also going to get along rather well with our first American negotiator, Benjamin Franklin. Ah, Ben. We've danced around Ben in a few of the past episodes, but we haven't had the chance to really bond with him, so let's do that now since we're coming up on some of Ben's most visible roles in the revolution. Born a Bostonian in 1706, Ben loved to swim in the Charles River as a child. He soon made his first invention, flippers and hand paddles that enabled him to swim faster. Ben only received two years of formal education from eight to ten years old. He excelled,

but his father could tell the highly irreverent Ben was not going to cut it as a clergyman, so he might as well leave school and go work in the family candle shop. Ah, Ben hates this though, so two years later, his father arranged for the now 12-year-old Ben to enter an indentured apprenticeship under his brother, James. It's here that Ben acquired his skill and identity as a printer, and tricked his brother into publishing his youthful writings by submitting them under the alias of an aged woman named Mrs. Silence Duguid. After five years of this, Ben decided he'd had enough of his brother James, with whom he did not get along, and broke his contract by making off for Philadelphia. Fresh off the boat in his newly adopted hometown, a hungry 17-year-old Ben bought three pennies worth of bread. As he walked down Market Street, eating one roll with

the other rolls tucked separately under each arm, he passed the home of his future wife, Deborah Reed, where, to quote Ben's autobiography, she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Ben's inventions and innovations could be a podcast in and of themselves, let alone a quick introduction on our way to negotiations. So I'll just leave it at this. He proved lightning is electricity with a kite and that it could be tamed with a lightning rod. He spearheaded Philadelphia's volunteer firefighter corps and a lending library. He freaking invented the bifocal glasses and a clean burning stove. But perhaps of greatest importance to today's tale, Ben is America's first diplomat. Though lacking extensive training, he has experience. From the

1750s through the 1770s, Ben represented the interests of colonial Pennsylvania and the other colonies as he bounced between England and America. It was during these decades that he received honorary doctorates from St. Andrews and Oxford universities, thus making him Dr. Franklin, and fought in London against the 1765 Stamp Act. During his visits back home, he squeezed in time to make a few contributions to Thomas Jefferson's draft of the Declaration of Independence and to play diplomat in a meeting with Admiral Howe at Staten Island, as you may recall from episodes 7 and 8. Finally, let me add one last crucial detail to his introduction. Ben's a charmer and a flirt. He adapts well to different cultures.

He seduces, and I don't mean that sexually, at least not necessarily. His donning a fur cap in Paris rather than a wig is all a part of his charm offensive as he plays the rugged American for Parisians. You'll see this come out in his diplomacy. Well, now that we've met our two characters, let the games begin. When Richard Oswald arrives in Paris in mid-April, he immediately tries to get Ben to agree to a peace settlement without France. This would be quite helpful to Britain. They are now at war with France, Spain, and even the Netherlands, so as you can imagine, they are spread thin. Get on board. Via Rail. Love the way. fast bet settlement, and instant withdrawals, FanDuel makes betting on the NFL easier than ever before. So make the most of this football season and download FanDuel today.

19 plus and physically located in Ontario. Gambling problem? Call 1-866-531-2600 or visit connectsontario.ca. Now, according to the very treaty Ben negotiated with the French in 1778, neither America nor France is supposed to work out a separate peace with Britain absent the other. Both men know that. So Richard hopes to convince Ben that America will get better terms with a separate peace. Well, Ben isn't ready to betray the French, whom he likes and is grateful to. So instead, he arranges a meeting for Richard and himself with France's foreign minister, Valjean. Richard's not giving up, though. On the carriage ride back from the meeting, he tells Ben that American independence might be held up if negotiations include France and

its ally, Spain. They're going to need to hash out territories around the globe. The witty Ben replies, American independence has already been established. That happened in 1776. But the Philadelphian does make a counter. Britain should cede Canada to the United States. After all, it's got to be a net loss. The fur trade can't offset the cost of protecting it. You've

gotta love Ben's audacity as he casually suggests that the mighty British Empire not only acknowledge American independence, but hey, throw in Canada while they're at it. The stones on this 76-year-old American. We'll now skip from April to June, which is when our next American delegate arrives, John Jay. Now, you know that we're on a first-name basis with the founders, but to prevent us from confusing John Jay and John Adams, we're going to stick with last names for these two in this episode. Jay's coming from Spain. He only managed to get a loan out of Spain in his years there, but given that it has conflicting interests with the United States, it was a rough position to begin with. Further, Jay doesn't speak Spanish, so that didn't help.

Jay's a tall, pale, gangly New Yorker with a prominent aquiline nose, and unlike the seductive people person Ben Franklin, Jay's more confrontational and argumentative. I'm sure this disposition serves him well as a lawyer. Okay, now that we've got Ben and Jay working together, I need to let you in on all the backstabbing and behind-the-scenes moves going on by this point. You're about to see how realistic Game of Thrones actually is. Well, minus the dragons. I'll start with Britain. While Richard Oswald whispers sweet nothings about American independence in Ben's ear, hoping to get Ben to deal without including France, British envoys in America are trying to sell Congress on the idea that America would be best

served by becoming a dominion of the British crown. We won't get bogged down on technicalities, but basically this is what Canada, Australia, and New Zealand will evolve into at different points between 1867 and 1907. So yeah, kind of two-faced, like everyone else in these negotiations. When Ben gets word of this, he writes to Robert Livingston back in Congress, quote, The King hates us most cordially. If he is once admitted to any degree of power and government among us, however limited, it will soon be extended by corruption, artifice, and force, till we are reduced to absolute subjection. Close quote.

Then there's France. America's ally, right? Well, yes, and let's not forget the crucial help it has given. But as I told you, when it became America's ally in episode 9, France is in this for its own reasons. After all, why have French fleets spent more time in the Caribbean than on America's eastern coast? Because France is trying to snatch up lucrative British colonies. In fact, I think that's more important to King Louis than supporting the Continental Army. Meanwhile, France's minister to the United States, Chevalier de la Luzerne,

is lobbying Congress to instruct its American diplomats to do as France says during the peace negotiations so those sneaky Brits can't take advantage of them and divide the allies. Or so he says. In reality, Luzerne and the French Corps are trying to keep America weak and dependent on France. To ensure that, France intends to box America in by giving land east of the Mississippi to its other ally, Spain. Are you following me? Basically, the wants of the French and Spanish empires will supersede America's. And by the way, this more or less covers Spain, which is our third power in this Game of Thrones craziness. But to sum it up, it hopes to score this territory at America's expense.

Well, gullible or bribable, Congress eats up Luzern's story and tells its negotiators to do what France says. As Thomas Rodney complains in a letter that June, the American commissioners shall, quote, after having obtained independence and all things else, to be ultimately governed by the advice of the French court or minister, close quote. Good night! See, I've told you in the past that the real talent has left Congress, leaving it mostly filled with B-listers. Thankfully, for America's sake, the negotiators in Paris are the A-team. Minus Mr. T, of course. And on that note, let's talk about the fourth player, our American negotiators.

When Jay hears he's supposed to kowtow to France, he makes it clear. Congress can go sit on an ink-filled quill. He doesn't give a damn about France. Realpolitik, baby. He refuses to follow such orders. We're still in June, but I can best make this point by quoting Jay's September letter to the President of Congress. Quote, As an American, I feel an interest in the dignity of my country, which renders it difficult for me to reconcile myself to the idea of the sovereign independent states of America submitting in the persons of their ministers

to be absolutely governed by the advice and opinions of the servants of another sovereign, especially in a case of such national importance. And while Ben trusts the French and has greater affection for them than Jay, he's come around to this view too. Ultimately, as you'll soon see, our American negotiators will defy Congress. So in short, everyone is building an empire and everyone is holding back information in what you could call a four-way game of chess between Britain, France, Spain, and America.

The Americans just do a better job as they leverage the competing interests of these empires to land peace terms some dinky, broke confederation of nearly powerless republics never could have otherwise achieved. Now, to make leverage, it's important to figure out what you want. So one of the first things our American duo hash out after Jay's June arrival are their terms. They divide them into two categories, necessary and advisable. Here are the four necessary terms. 1. Recognition of American independence. 2. Removal of all British troops from America. 3. An acceptable territorial boundary settlement, by which they mean out to the Mississippi River. And 4. Securing fishing rights off of Newfoundland and other points on the East Coast.

There are four advisable terms too. One, Britain takes blame for the war. Two, Britain coughs up compensation to Americans for all the violence and destruction it did in the United States. Three, Britain makes Canada a part of the United States. And four, Britain enters into a free trade agreement with the United States. Ben sends a letter to Richard on July 10th laying all of this out. Since Lord Rockingham has died from the flu, which, by the way, Jay also caught and took a month to recover from, Richard sends this list on to an even newer prime minister, Lord Shelbourne. His lordship thinks the advisable category is a bit much, but the necessary items don't seem so bad. As such,

negotiations in Paris move forward in late July. Although Jay is really annoyed that Richard's commission isn't to negotiate with representatives of the United States. It's to negotiate with the colonies and plantations. At this point, the Americans are still partially open with French Foreign Minister Vergen. So Ben and Jay discuss the lack of recognition of American independence with them. Vergen says this isn't a problem. It'll all come together in the final piece. Huh. He also mentions Spain's interest in land east of the Mississippi River. Now this doesn't ruffle the more trusting Ben, but Jay sees things quite differently. He sees duplicity. He sees that France, Spain, and Britain are all trying to play them, just from different angles.

Ben and Jay have a big argument about it. France has no interest that we should become a great and formidable people, Jay says. America must be mindful of the generosity of France, replies Dr. Franklin. We have no rational dependence except on God and ourselves, Jay shoots back. Well, aren't they both kind of right? I think we need to remember, though, that their disagreement isn't as big as it might seem. Ben likes France more than Jay, but in the end, the two agree to blow off Congress's direction to listen to France and take a hard line on getting Britain to recognize American independence. Now, Jay's in the driver's seat as they seek to get Britain to acknowledge American independence.

A flare-up of gout and kidney stones have been down for the count in August and September. During this time, Jay sends a messenger to London informing Prime Minister Shelbourne that he's ready to deal, but only if Britain acknowledges American independence straight up. Okay, but both sides are a bit compromised. Follow me here. Lord Shelbourne wants to get this negotiating moving because his position as Prime Minister is tenuous. He needs to score some victories to shore up his power. At the same time though, the British present Jay with a coded French document showing they oppose American fishing rights near Newfoundland. The French call the document a

forgery. It isn't. But Jay's mildly spooked by France's shenanigans. So with both sides wanting to move quickly, they compromise. Britain does not recognize American independence outright, but it changes Richard Oswald's commission to say he is negotiating with representatives of the United States. Given the circumstances, that's good enough for Jay, at least for now. He writes to John Adams in the Netherlands, urging him to come to Paris. John Adams! Now, we've interacted with Adams a few times, but let's bond with him as well, since we're bringing him into the negotiations. A New Englander, Harvard alum and lawyer, he represented the Redcoats charged with murder in the Boston Massacre back in 1770.

And he rocked it. He represented John Hancock when his ship got impounded for smuggling. Adams represented Massachusetts at the First Continental Congress and the Second. He's the one who recommended George Washington be named commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, and he fought like a lion to get Congress to take the frightening step of declaring independence in 1776. Benjamin Rush said of Adams, quote, This illustrious patriot has not his superior, scarcely his equal, for abilities and virtue on the whole of the continent of America. He further claimed, quote, every member of Congress in 1776 acknowledged him to be the first man in the house. Close quote. Thomas Jefferson called

Adams our colossus on the floor. In late 1779, Adams became the principal author of the Massachusetts Constitution, a document that includes a declaration of rights and divides the government into three branches, executive, judiciary, and a bicameral legislature. It was ratified in 1780, making it the oldest functioning government in the entire world today. Yes, you heard that correctly. The only government that's been around longer than the U.S. federal government is Massachusetts state government, and John Adams, more so than anyone else, is the man who made it. With those accomplishments, I suppose we can see why Congress would entrust Adams with something as important as diplomacy.

He got his first taste of it alongside Ben Franklin on Staten Island in 1776, when the Howe brothers thought they could get the Americans to settle for something less than independence. In 1778, Congress sent Adams to France, where, once again, he pursued America's interests beside the elderly, spectacle-wearing Ben. But at this point, things begin to sour between the two titans of patriotism. I'm going to detail this a bit because it matters in the 1782 peace talks. For all the good we've said of Adams and Ben, let's remember, they are human and have their faults. Adams is opinionated, stubborn, quick to find offense, and for that matter, quick to give offense,

both as one who speaks frankly and as one with a sharp tongue or pen at any rate. As a diplomat in France that year, Adams got to know the legendary Ben. Adams was disappointed to find a man who didn't live up to the wisdom dispensed in poor Richard's almanac. Early to bed, early to rise? Ben woke up around 10 a.m. Thrifty? Ben was rich and worried little about his extravagance. As the 5 a.m. rising Adams grew better at French through his systematic and careful study, he came to realize Ben's French was sloppy at best. Adams was all the more irritated that the French seemed to find the old Philadelphian's poor grammar and accent endearing. Disliked by the French and feeling unappreciated by Congress,

Adams and his son John Quincy, who had accompanied his father to France, went back to Massachusetts and into the arms of his loving, patient, pen pal, and brilliant wife, Abigail. Things hit a real nadir with Adams and Ben when the brusque New Englander returned to France in 1780 to await negotiations with Britain. This did not please French Foreign Minister Valjean, so he moved to await negotiations with Britain. This did not please French foreign minister Valjean, so he moved to get rid of him. Valjean informed Adams that, quote, the king didn't need your solicitations to take care of the interests of the United States. Or, in the original French,

Le roi n'a pas eu besoin de vos sollicitations pour s'occuper des intérêts des Etats-Unis. I think you can appreciate how the sensitive Adams took that. Vergène then upped the ante. He had Ben send letters written by Adams that were critical of France to Congress. Ben did as instructed, and we can't fault him for doing that as he manages the relationship with France, but Ben didn't need to throw Adams under the bus. Wait, 18th century. Ben didn't need to throw Adams under the horse-drawn carriage by writing a letter to Congress that agreed with Valjean. But he did. Mr. Adams has given extreme offense to the court here, Ben wrote on August 9th, 1780. Damn, Ben, that's cold.

Adams found out what Ben did after arriving in the Netherlands, where he hoped that, to quote Adams, something might be done to render us less dependent on France. Close quote. His trust in Ben is shattered, and he's pissed. Look, I wouldn't get all heartbroken at the love loss between Adams and Ben. Remember what I've said about not romanticizing the founding fathers? I think all we have here are two intelligent, capable leaders with wildly different personalities

and styles that drove Adams to jealousy and Ben to feelings of great annoyance. But now that you better know Adams and his history with Ben, let's get back to the negotiations. It's still a month or so from the time Adams gets Jay's letter until he makes it to France. When Jay's letter arrived, Adams was on the cusp of landing a trade treaty with the Dutch. Oh yeah, this screws a lot of people up. For the record, the Dutch live in the Netherlands. Don't ask why. English can be a funny language.

Just roll with it. Anyhow, Adams scores this treaty, and in mid-October, he gets to Paris on October 26th. The next day, he swings by a tailor and a wig maker to get all spruced up. Yeah, looking sexy, Adams. Now, the brilliant and somehow likable curmudgeon, albeit not by the French, is ready to negotiate. As for seeing Ben again, Adams had this to say, that I have no friendship for Franklin, I avow. That I am incapable of having any with a man of his moral sentiments, I avow. As far as fate shall compel me to sit with him in public affairs, I shall treat him with decency and perfect impartiality. Have to give credit where credit's due. Adams will live up to this.

When Adams meets up with Jay on October 28th, the lanky New Yorker informs him of Congress's instruction to do whatever the French ministers say. Adams is outraged, but he's glad to see that, like him, Jay recognizes that France's help, although imperative, was only given to achieve French goals. Or, as Adams once put it, France wanted to, quote, keep us weak, make us feel our obligations, impress our minds with a sense of gratitude, close quote. It might be cynical, but as we've established, they're right. I suppose you've put this together already, but I'll go ahead and say it. Adams is definitely on board with defying Congress's instructions. With Ben's grandson, William Temple Franklin, that is, the illegitimate patriot son of Ben's

illegitimate loyalist son, as their secretary, the trio sit down with the British on October 30th. Opposite them, we still have Richard. He's now joined by Undersecretary of State Henry Strachey, who met both Adams and Ben on Staten Island in 1776 when he took notes for Richard Howe in that failed negotiation. He's been sent to give the British delegation more backbone. We also have a young British diplomat, Alan Fitzherbert. He'll take notes. The negotiations will start at 11 a.m. daily and rage through a snowy November. First on deck, American independence is acknowledged. We all knew that was coming, right? Getting troops out of America won't be an issue either. So that leaves two of Ben and Jay's necessary terms yet to

secure, territory to the Mississippi and fishing rights. As for the territorial boundaries, no, Canada is not happening. Do I need to clear that up, by the way? For the record, Canada is not happening. Do I need to clear that up, by the way? For the record, Canada is not the 51st state. Sorry, Ben. But in truth, this went almost as well as Ben, Adams, and Jay could have hoped for. And much credit is due to Ben. Amazon's holiday deals are here so you can celebrate the season early. With low prices on decor, electronics, and beauty.

Perfect for stocking stuffers. And my stockings looking good. Shop holiday deals early on Amazon now. This episode is brought to you by Dyson OnTrack. Dyson OnTrack headphones offer best-in-class noise cancellation and an enhanced sound range, making them perfect for enjoying music and podcasts. Get up to 55 hours of listening with active noise cancelling enabled, With the exception of the Floridas, which everyone knows Spain might snag in its negotiations, Britain cedes everything to the Mississippi River.

In one fell swoop, these American diplomats have just doubled the United States' territory. This includes a lot of turf the Franco-Spanish alliance wants Spain to pick up, which runs from the future state of Mississippi through part of the future state of Tennessee. It also includes British territory considered a part of Quebec since 1774, like the future states of Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Michigan, and Wisconsin. History might have gone quite differently if Spain or Britain controlled some or all of these not-yet-existing states. Without a doubt, Ben, Jay, and Adams were right to disobey Congress by ignoring France's ministers. Especially since Virgin also had agents in London working to undermine the Americans.

They also discussed private pre-war debts owed by Americans to British merchants. Jay and Ben figure the British Army's destruction of property equaled things out between the two sides. Not Adams. He insists that debts should be paid. This clause is put in the treaty, but no one's going to enforce it. Now, speaking of payments, the British want America to compensate loyalists whose homes and property have been seized or destroyed. As you can imagine, this is the wrong crowd to ask for sympathy on this point. This stalls out for now.

Well, things aren't quite sorted out, but there's enough for Undersecretary of State Henry Strachey to take a draft to London. Meanwhile, Adams finally visits Valjean. Knowing that the French minister tried to tank him with Congress, Adams has no love for this man, but politics, baby. So Adams agrees to dinner, and to his surprise, Vergen comes out in full charm mode. The compliments flow as freely as the Madero wine. Monsieur, you are the Washington of negotiation. Monsieur, vous êtes le Washington de la négociation, Adams recalls a Frenchman saying. Of course, Vargin hopes that, with flattery, he might get Adams to cop up some details on what's happening with the British behind closed doors.

Unfortunately for the French, Adams is a big boy. He knows what they're playing at. He doesn't say a thing. Our Undersecretary, Henry, makes it back to Paris on November 25th. Things look good, but two big issues remain, American fishing rights and compensation for loyalists. When it comes to fishing rights, leave it to a true New Englander like Adams to hold fast. I suppose I should clarify, in case you're unaware, fishing is an enormous part of New England's economy in the late 1700s. In fact, even more than two centuries later, fishing remains a way of life for thousands of New Englanders. Didn't you see George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg in The Perfect Storm?

The film's about two decades old now, but it's about commercial fishermen from Gloucester, Massachusetts. Point being, the tradition still stands. Anyhow, things are really stalling on fishing rights by British-controlled Newfoundland. As British subjects, New Englander fishermen have fished here for centuries. But with American independence, that will become illegal unless this treaty expressly gives them the right to it. How could we restrain our fishermen, the boldest men alive, from fishing in prohibited places? asks Adams. Ben points out that American economic success is British economic success, as they will be trading partners. Still, the British do not want to say Americans have a right to fish in Newfoundland's waters.

Finally, stubborn Adams channels his courtroom lawyer self and gives a passionate speech. Gentlemen, is there or can there be a clearer right? In former treaties, that of Utrecht and that of Paris, France and England have claimed the right and used the word. When God Almighty made the banks of Newfoundland at 300 leagues distant from the people of America and 600 leagues distant from those of France and England, did he not give as food a right to the former as to the latter? If occupation, use, and possession have a right, we have it as clearly as you. If war and blood and treasure give a right, ours is as good as yours. Adams says more, but this small taste will do for us. Although the British insist on using the word liberty

in one part of the treaty, right is also used elsewhere. It's good enough. Adams has secured American fishermen the right to continue practicing their profession in Newfoundland's waters. Now, as fishing rights and loyalist payment are being hashed out, the fourth American diplomat, Henry Lawrence, arrives. Congress sent Henry, a South Carolinian and a former president of Congress, to the Netherlands in 1779, but the British intercepted and arrested him on the way. They imprisoned Henry in the Tower of London as a traitor. Now released on a prisoner exchange for none other than Lord Cornwallis, Henry joins his fellow Americans in Paris. A southerner and previous slave trader, Henry makes exactly one contribution to the treaty.

In leaving America, the British will not, quote, Remember how I told you British negotiator Richard Oswald made his money in the slave trade? Well, he's done business with Henry in the past. He readily agrees to this line. As for the loyalists issue, Ben carries the day. With the influx of loyalists who've moved to Britain, the British delegation have political pressure to deliver on this point. Finally, Ben tells his British counterparts that if America is to pay the loyalists, he wants compensation for all the damage the British inflicted. Pulling a paper from his pocket, he produces a claim he's prepared for stolen cargo across the states, towns burnt to

ash, and let's not forget Ben's own library being damaged in Philadelphia. Richard and Henry admit it. They don't have a leg to stand on. To save face, though, they ask the Americans to include a non-binding, worthless clause in which Congress will earnestly recommend the sovereign states pay restitutions to loyalists. Ah, this the Americans can accept. Well, almost. Ben has one more alteration. The clause must exclude loyalists who'd, quote, Dr. Franklin is very staunch against the Tories,

more decidedly on this point than Mr. J or myself, Adams writes in his journal. Well, Ben's probably driven by thoughts of his loyalist son, William, who I'll remind you is the father of Ben's grandson serving as the American secretary in these very negotiations. Nothing stings quite like deep familial love poisoned by betrayal. On November 30th, 1782, the day after settling the Loyalist issue, a preliminary treaty is signed. By calling it preliminary, our American diplomats technically skirt the issue of making peace without the French. And they leave Ben with the odious task of informing their ally. He does it. Oh, and then he hits up Vergennes for a loan of 6 million livres, pounds. Seriously,

only the guy who would ask for Canada would do that, right? Well, Vergen certainly understands doing what's best for one's country, so he's not that upset. And he gives Ben the freaking loan. In truth, if it were not for the seductive Philadelphian, this piece could have unraveled the Franco-American alliance. The artist Benjamin West undertakes a portrait of the two delegations. In it, you can see the lanky John Jay, the more rotund John Adams, Dr. Franklin, and Henry Lawrence in the middle, and the young William Temple Franklin seated on the right. But the British delegation is missing from this unfinished work of art. Legend says they were so angry about the outcome of negotiations that the British refused to sit for it. I can't confirm this assertion, but I can see how the

rumor began. Look, the treaty, like everything in life, isn't perfect. The exact border with Canada and some aspects of the fishing rights remain a tad ambiguous. Free trade doesn't happen either. But overall, the terms are far more than anyone should have expected America to get. Besting the interests of the three most powerful empires in the world and in defiance of their own Congress, Ben J.N. Adams gained recognition of American independence, doubled the size of the Confederation, and kept fishing rights off of Newfoundland.

When France and Spain finally grow weary of war later that year, Ben, Jay, and Adams also signed the definitive treaty that officially ends the Revolutionary War. This happens on September 3rd, 1783 at L'Hôtel de York. More than two centuries later, this treaty remains the most remarkable, brilliant, and daring achievement in American diplomatic history. I know the ink is drying on the treaty, but don't get too comfortable. We left George in what looked like the middle of a stroke while speaking to his men, remember? Let's go find out what's happening to him. And to do that, we need to jet back to the end of the Battle of Yorktown in October 1781 for just a minute. Rewind.

The Franco-American forces go their separate ways after the battle. French Admiral de Grasse takes his more than 3,000 troops and massive fleet back to the Caribbean. Rochambeau sticks around and maintains hold of the Chesapeake Bay. Ben Lincoln leads the Continental Army to New York, so they can keep an eye on Sir Henry's forces in New York City. But the fighting doesn't come to a screeching halt. As peace negotiations are happening in Paris, Britain and America are still technically at war. In fact, one of the revolution's most extraordinary heroines, my distant relative, Deborah Sampson, doesn't even come on the scene until roughly nine months after Yorktown in mid-1782. Unusually tall and strong, she disguises herself as a man and

enlists in the Continental Army under the name Robert Shurtleff. On July 3rd, she participates in a skirmish just outside Tarrytown, New York, and gets shot in the leg twice. Rather than risk a doctor identifying her as a woman, Deborah uses a knife to dig and cut out at least one of the musket balls from her own flesh. Her true sex is found out about a year later, but Deborah still receives an honorable discharge and a pension. Another example of post-Yorktown fighting is the lamentable death of one of George Washington's aides, whom we've come to know quite well over the course of this podcast. John Lawrence. On August 27th, 1782, foraging British troops killed John near Charleston, South Carolina. We can only wonder what impact this abolitionist

South Carolinian might have had on slavery in the United States if he'd lived. But these skirmishes are the exception. The main body of the Continental Army is sitting in their settlement at New Windsor, New York. And now that the demands of war have died down, the officers have idle time to think about how their home states and Congress, which have never provided sufficient food, clothes, shot, or any other supplies, are now likely to screw them over on their promised pensions. See, Congress is broke. We've established that in a few episodes already. It doesn't have the power to tax. It has to rely on the generosity of the states, which means it perpetually receives less than promised.

Well, Congress has promised the officers half-pay pensions for life. Further, some officers are owed as much as six years' back pay. There are Continental soldiers who are so poor because of Congress's failures to pay, they fear they'll be sent to prison for debt the second they leave the army. So much for fighting for independence, huh? Perhaps you can see why many of the officers and soldiers are pissed. Perhaps you can also see why some think, like Colonel Louis Nicola, that George Washington should just take over as king and set this disorder straight. Some of the nationalists, or continentalists, who want to see the confederation of sovereign states become a unified nation, like Robert Morris and Alexander Hamilton, see a silver lining in this pension crisis.

If it takes a military uprising to finally get a strong central government and regular income for Congress via taxation, well, so be it. They've seen the anarchy of the Confederation firsthand, and fixing this revenue issue is long overdue. They mean well, but they're playing with fire. Now a New York congressman himself, Alexander Hamilton, writes George on February 13th, 1783, to say that in reality, Congress can't help the army. The army will have to take what it needs at force of bayonet. In effect, he urges George to take his rightful place at the head of this righteous mob or be prepared to get bowled over. But George writes back on March 4th to his brilliant, well-meaning, but in this case misguided,

former aide, and says he won't do that. The graying Virginia knows that while the army's cause is just, if it forces Congress to do right, it will destroy the very republic it has fought to create. And of course, it's only a few days after George writes back to Alexander that the anonymous letters circulate around the Continental Army's camp. And only a few days after that, on March 15th, or the Ides of March, the same day as Julius Caesar's assassination, that George now addresses his angry officers. I believe we left George stammering over his words. Let's hope he fares better with his officers than Julius did with the senators.

Dear sir, your favors of the 14th. Dear sir, your favors of the 14th. George stammers out as he stands in front of his baffled officers in the temple of virtue. George stops reading. His men are on the edge of their seats. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of glasses. Gentlemen, he says, addressing his officers, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray, but almost blind in service to my country. That does it. With these words, the hardened, angry, cynical officers who've seen so much death and blood, who've suffered so many unjust deprivations, erupt into sobs. All of George's pleading and reasoning had no effect on them. But to see George, their general, a man many in that room, despite their anger,

would call their father and friend wearing glasses. Well, it's something he's never done in front of them before. It's something that reminds them of the countless letters, dispatches, and orders he strained his eyes over in the past eight years for their benefit. It's something that reminds them that he isn't a god after all, but a man who's been worn down and aged by battle. And now it is they who are wearing him down as he suffers the embarrassment of showing a vulnerability he clearly never meant for them to see.

Tears continue to stream down their faces as George reads. It's an extremely sympathetic letter from Congressman Joseph Jones. In it, he pays high compliments to the Army and gives solid evidence that Congress is, in fact, working to solve the Army's plight. George finishes reading and walks out. Hashtag 18th century mic drop. He doesn't need to do anything further. George has broken the mutinous spell cast over the officers and saved American republicanism from a near stillbirth by putting on glasses. A congressional committee headed by Alexander Hamilton awards the officers a pension equal to five years full pay. Of course, as we've established so many times, Congress is writing checks it can't honor.

It has no ability to tax. So when the army starts to go home in mid-1783, Robert Morris steps in and writes Morris Notes, personal guarantees of three months pay and good to be exchanged for cash in six months. While it's admirable that Robert shells out $750,000 of his own personal money in order to pay something to the enlisted men, it was far less than they've been promised. And most of these destitute soldiers who have fought for their country, fought to make their country, have little choice but to sell the notes to unscrupulous speculators for a fraction of their value. In some cases, they exchange the notes for just enough money to get themselves home.

Clearly, America has to do better than this. The Union has to be better than this. And in another four years, that change will come. At a convention in Philadelphia. researched, and written by me, Greg Jackson. Production and sound design by Josh Beatty. Musical score composed and performed by Greg Jackson and Diana Averill. For bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit historythatdoesntsuck.com. Join me in two weeks where I'd like to tell you a story. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode in two weeks, where I'd like to tell you a story. Thank you. Jennifer Moods, Jennifer Magnolia, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dobis, John Frugledugel, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew

Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphreries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasse, Sharon Theisen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had, but once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms?

And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen.