Unlikely Allies Read online

  France was merely acting “to humble an antient rival,” whereas America shared with Britain a system of justice and democracy. Though the British government had become corrupt, if it could be reformed, then the liberty of Americans would be safer under Parliament than in an alliance with a despotic French king. The British Constitution was superior to independence for without limits on self-government, experience showed “there cannot be found a single instance of any Nation’s enjoying Peace, Liberty, and safety, under a Democracy.”

  In Deane’s view, the burdens of the Revolution and the costs of self-government had become oppressive for America, and Congress had exceeded its power. “In my Letters,” Deane wrote to Franklin, “I censured with free & honest indignation the Arbitrary and unjust proceedings of Congress, in forcing their depreciated, & depreciating paper on honest Creditors, Widows, & Orphans in lieu of Silver, & Gold.” The treaty with France could not bind America to continue the war if America were convinced that “her Peace, Liberty, and safety will be secured by putting an End to the War.” And Deane did not consider himself personally bound to France by the generosity shown him by the French government.

  Deane acknowledged that he had been accused by his enemies of acting as an agent in the employ of the British government. But Franklin knew “how readily I undertook to procure Supplies, and to solicit foreign Aid, at a Time when both were become indispensible, when the Attempt was the most hazardous, and when few persons were more obnoxious to the British Government.” Though Deane had never been compensated for his service, Franklin knew that Deane’s conduct from his arrival in France to his recall was above reproach. In calling for reconciliation with Britain, Deane had said nothing that Franklin himself had not argued for during Franklin’s time in London as the representative for Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. Indeed, even Congress had passed resolutions prior to the Declaration of Independence, expressing the hope that the colonies would remain loyal to the British Crown. Nothing that Deane had written in his intercepted correspondence could be regarded as treason. “If the British Parliament & Ministers are content to renounce forever all their unconstitutional claims” against the Americans and “are willing to Treat Us as Brethren as Friends and equals I confess that I can see no farther Cause for Contention with them.” And “to continue the War to establish Our independent sovereignty on the ruins of the British Power,” and at the risk of strengthening the French monarchy, “appears to Me to be to the last degree dangerous, and absurd.”

  Franklin, for once, was speechless. He did not know how to respond to Deane’s lengthy defense, and he may have worried that his close association with Deane might now reflect poorly on him. Privately, he wrote to Morris, expressing sympathy: “Our former Friend Mr. Deane has lost himself entirely. He and his Letters are universally condemned.” Franklin saw “no Place for him but England. He continues however to sit croaking at Ghent, chagrin’d, discontented, & dispirited.” Yet, Franklin pushed Morris to help Deane obtain a final settlement of what was owed to him by Congress.

  To Deane, Franklin wrote that he was not convinced by Deane’s argument that the Revolution was futile and that America would be better off under the British Constitution than in an alliance with France. “[P]erhaps my answer would not convince you; but that I think Time will.” And he cautioned Deane that “The Publication of those Letters has done great Prejudice to your Character there, and necessarily diminish’d much of the Regard your Friends had for you. You are now considered as having abandoned the cause of your Country, and as having with Arnold espoused that of its Enemies.” Franklin did not think Deane was a traitor. But he did conclude that “your Resentments and Passions have overcome your Reason and Judgment; and tho’ my ancient Esteem & Affection for you induce me to make all the Allowances possible,” it was no longer possible “for me to say with the same Truth & Cordiality as formerly that I am, Your Affectionate Friend & humble Servant.”

  Deane replied to his old friend that

  I am free to join with you in an appeal to Time & Experience to determine whether independant Sovereignty, in the hands of a Democracy, ought to be preferred by the United States, to the British Constitution free’d from the Innovations, & corruptions which have in the course of Time crept into it. . . . You believe that the peace, Liberty & happiness of our Country, will be best secured, & supported, by a close alliance with France & the House of Bourbon, & under an independent Democracy; I have the misfortune to think differently.

  Acknowledging their differences, Deane and Franklin parted company. The two friends who had together negotiated the Treaty of Alliance with France never exchanged another word. But Franklin would continue to insist publicly that he had “never known or suspected any cause to charge Silas Deane with any want of probity, in any purchase, or bargain, whatever, made by him for the use or account of the United States.” Plainly, Franklin would not have risked his reputation to defend Deane’s honor if he had any thought that Deane was a traitor.

  Alone and depressed, Deane remained in Ghent, confined to bed for weeks with a persistent cold and dry cough, living on bran tea and honey, and despairing of his predicament: he was truly a man without a country. He wrote to Bancroft that “from the intolerant spirit which rages in America, I expect no charitable construction on either my words or actions.” Unable to return to France, he asked Bancroft to pay off what he owed to Neff the tailor and Pascal the coach-maker. How would he survive in exile from France and the United States? He still held out some small hope of receiving compensation from Congress for his expenses, but that was unrealistic given the circumstances. And he had some money owed to him, including 2,000 pounds (about $370,000 today) he had lent to his brother Simeon to import French goods. If Deane had acted as a British agent, he had no reason now to remain stranded in Ghent and every reason to go to London where he could have resumed his business. But he remained in Ghent, grateful for his one true friend on whom he could rely—Bancroft.

  SOON AFTER THE PAR IS PAPERS appeared on the streets of New York, news arrived that Lord Cornwallis and his army had surrendered at Yorktown on October 19. It was almost exactly four years to the day after the surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Nearly 9,000 American and 7,000 French troops had converged to lay siege on approximately 8,000 British troops behind the fortifications of Yorktown. The Americans were commanded by Generals Lafayette, Lincoln, and Steuben, and the French were led by General Rochambeau. In addition, Washington had another 2,900 men, plus 800 French marines, across the river, to prevent the British from escaping. The siege, orchestrated by General Steuben, was remarkably effective and the fighting was brief and relatively bloodless. Washington accepted the formal surrender, even though he had not taken part in the fighting. The final battle plan had been drawn up by Washington, Lafayette, and Rochambeau at a meeting in Wethersfield, Connecticut, at the now abandoned home of Silas Deane, where Washington had once stayed as a friend of the family.

  The British withdrew from the south, and in April peace talks began in Paris, led by Franklin. Although over the next year some scattered fighting occurred between Indians and settlers, and there was a brief skirmish in South Carolina, the war had ended. The Treaty of Paris ending the Revolution and recognizing American independence was signed by Franklin in November 1782. The Americans had broken their commitment to France not to make a separate peace with Britain. The following January, Britain signed separate treaties with France and Spain. Deane’s predictions of a catastrophic end to the war had proved wrong, while his prediction of his own undoing had proved remarkably prescient.

  WITH THE WAR ENDED, Deane found himself still living in exile in Ghent. He feared that if he set foot on French territory he would be tossed into the Bastille for criticizing the king. In the mind of the American public, he was also guilty of treason. He had few friends left in Congress. He asked his brothers to sell off his personal and real property in Wethersfield, but the property was now tied up in a legal battle with his stepchildren. Deane had d
eposited a large sum of his own money with Monsieur Chaumont, the owner of Valentinois, who had advanced substantial sums to help the American commissioners, but Chaumont was now insolvent, and Deane lost everything. Meanwhile, Congress still had not considered whether to reimburse Deane for his expenses, which he claimed were 300,000 pounds (about $55 million). Deane was forced to borrow money from Bancroft to stay alive. Yet Deane was happy that the war was over and wished America a bright future. He had suffered greatly for expressing his convictions: “I must be that traitor to myself, which God knows I never was to my country.” No fair-minded person could honestly accuse him of being in the pay of the British government considering “the distressed situation in which I have lingered out a wretched and obscure exile.” He was living “in lodgings barely decent, without a servant,” and dining in a manner in which he was “neither accustomed [n]or inclined to, and to which necessity alone could ever reduce me.”

  Deane decided to visit London in March 1783. His friend Jay cautioned him not to go, for fear that it would confirm the suspicions that Deane was in the employ of the British. Deane’s son, Jesse, was ill in France with a tumor on his neck that would have to be removed surgically, but Bancroft advised Deane that he could not safely return to France. Deane arranged for a ship to take Jesse home. Deane hoped he might someday see his son again, but he did not know if that would ever be possible in America. Deane was also hoping to do some business in London. He had an ambitious plan to build a canal to connect Lake Champlain and the St. Lawrence River in which Lord Dorchester, the governor general of Canada, seemed interested. He also was looking into developing the Ohio River valley—the same land that Franklin and Lee had fought over in the 1770s. Now that the war had ended, Deane hoped to use his contacts in London to recruit English settlers for Ohio.

  The day after Deane arrived in London he received a surprise visitor: Benedict Arnold. Since he had last seen General Arnold in Philadelphia, Arnold had become a British spy. After Washington put him in command of the fortification at West Point overlooking the Hudson, Arnold plotted to surrender the post to the British. When Arnold’s plot was revealed, he fled and joined the British Army as a general. At the war’s end, he emigrated to London. Deane was inclined to slam the door in the face of America’s most notorious traitor, but his loneliness and the memory of Arnold’s generosity when Deane was living in Philadelphia prevented him. Arnold invited Deane to dinner with some British officers, but Deane refused. The next day Deane moved to a modest flat at 135 Fleet Street, hoping Arnold would not find him, but he continued to receive numerous written invitations to Arnold’s home. In a few days, Arnold called again at Deane’s new lodging. Deane pushed Arnold out to the stairwell and told him in front of witnesses never to return. The two men never spoke again.

  Bancroft repeatedly discouraged Deane from returning to Paris and promised to visit Deane in London soon. So Deane remained in this unfamiliar city, and as the circle of his correspondence contracted and debts mounted, he slipped deeper into depression and poverty. Robert Morris turned his unopened letters over to Congress; his brother Simeon, who owed him thousands of pounds, did not respond to his pleas for help; his son Jesse never wrote Deane again, perhaps embarrassed by his father’s infamy, or not forgiving his father for sending him home; and his stepson John Webb collected all the debts Deane was owed in Connecticut and squandered the money himself. Morris wrote to Deane to discourage him from returning to America, where he risked a hostile reception by the press and the Congress.

  Deane’s one hope was that he could persuade his friend John Jay to assist him in obtaining compensation from Congress, but even Jay refused to answer Deane’s letters. When Jay, now minister to Spain, was in London on official business, Deane visited his lodging; he was turned away by a servant, and Jay left London without seeing him. Deane continued to write Jay until Jay could no longer restrain himself. Though it was “painful to say disagreeable things” to a friend, Jay wrote, “I love my country and my honor better than my friends.” In Jay’s view, Deane was either “exceedingly injured” or guilty of treason, and “while doubts remain on that point, all connection between us must be suspended.” He had tried to keep an open mind to hear what he could say in his own defense, but he had received information that “you received visits from, and were on terms of intimacy with, General Arnold. Every American who gives his hand to that man, in my opinion, pollutes it.” Jay would have nothing more to say to Deane in the future.

  Deane could no longer expect to recover anything from Congress. He wanted to leave England, and he wrote to his brother Barnabas asking for fifty pounds (about $9,000 today) so that he might survive the winter and pay his passage in early spring to either Canada or possibly New England, if he were allowed to return. At the same time, his health rapidly deteriorated, beginning in the fall of 1787. He developed a cold that moved into his limbs and limited his ability to walk for many months, leaving him with permanent pain in his knees and ankles. Then during the summer of 1788 he began to suffer from a persistent dry cough and night sweats so severe that his linen was drenched every morning. He lost his appetite for days at a time and could hold down only fluids. He survived on eggs beaten in milk warm from the cow with sugar, nutmeg, and alcohol. He had hot and cold flashes and his whole body shook. In this condition his “constant and unfailing friend Dr. Bancroft” recommended he remain in London, and he prescribed laudanum, an opiate derivative, which Deane took. Deane may have developed an addiction to laudanum. His correspondence became less lucid and more sporadic. He seemed confused and forgetful. He became increasingly dependent on Bancroft, to whom Deane’s mail was forwarded.

  In his disoriented condition, Deane’s flat at Fleet Street was robbed of all his clothing and other articles of value. Someone opened his trunk of papers and removed only the most valuable account books and letter books. Days later, a Monsieur Foullay approached Thomas Jefferson, now minister in Paris, to say that he had taken Deane’s account books and letter books in satisfaction for an unspecified debt that Deane had refused to pay. Foullay had carried these books to Paris for the express purpose of offering them first to the United States in exchange for the amount owed by Deane, 120 pounds (roughly $22,000 today). If the United States would not pay for the books, Foullay threatened to sell them to the British government, which might be interested in knowing the sources of the arms that were sent to the Americans. Jefferson reviewed the books, which included all Deane’s personal and official accounts from the time of his arriving in France to 1781 and his correspondence during the spring and summer of 1777, when he was serving with Franklin and Lee in Paris. Jefferson received authorization from Jay to buy the books and paid twenty-five pounds (roughly $4,600 today). Foullay had offered to obtain for Jefferson the remaining six to eight volumes of Deane’s letter books, which Jefferson thought would be useful.

  Rather than waiting for Foullay to “obtain” Deane’s remaining books, by whatever means he employed, Jefferson wrote to Bancroft in London and asked Bancroft to get the books for him. Jefferson suggested that Bancroft could tempt Deane with money for the books, but that he should not say it was for Congress. He was prepared to pay as much as fifty pounds (roughly $9,200 today) for all the volumes. “What other way would best bring it about you know best,” Jefferson added coyly, knowing that Bancroft could use the fifty pounds himself. However Bancroft did it, Jefferson was confident that his relationship to Deane would enable him to recover those books. Jefferson could justify to himself the theft of Deane’s papers: it would be an act of patriotism to prevent the books from falling into the wrong hands. Bancroft did not refuse Jefferson, but wrote back that there were no other volumes in Deane’s possession.

  DEANE COULD NO LONGER manage on his own, and in November, he moved into a friend’s home on Chapel Street. That winter was one of the worst to hit Britain in nearly fifty years. The Thames froze, carnival booths were erected on it, and pigs were spit-roasted over the ice. Deane could no longer go outsi
de, and he desperately looked forward to the spring, when he hoped to return to America.

  In 1789, a federal Constitution and a newly elected government led by President Washington replaced the Articles of Confederation and the Continental Congress. Deane had criticized the Revolution because he believed that democracy without a constitution and a strong national government like Britain’s was untenable. His concerns were prescient. Time and experience had shown that without a strong constitution the states were ungovernable. The men who had served with Deane, including Adams, Franklin, and Jay, had drafted a constitution that addressed Deane’s concerns and improved upon the British Constitution.

  As Washington prepared to take the oath of office, Jay, who was about to be appointed the first chief justice of the United States, told Stephen Sayre that he wished Deane would now return. Jay was a close associate of President Washington, and it is likely that Jay spoke for Washington. Deane’s brother Barnabas and his friends confirmed that it would be safe for Deane to come home, and a friend in Boston offered to pay Deane’s passage. That June Deane wrote to his old friend Washington congratulating him on his presidency and asking him to again consider Deane’s compensation claim. By the fall of 1789, Deane had recovered from his long illness and was ready to make the voyage.

  On Tuesday, September 22, 1789, Deane left London with his friend Theodore Hopkins and Captain Davis of the Boston Packet. They rode along the Thames, sitting side by side in a small carriage. According to witnesses, Deane had “never looked better.” He was animated and optimistic about starting his life over in North America. He was discussing his project to build a waterway along the St. Lawrence. He also had hopes of developing land in the Ohio River valley. At Gravesend, just southeast of London, near the mouth of the Thames, the men spent the night in the home of the captain’s father-in-law. After a hearty breakfast they boarded the Boston Packet. As the ship departed down the Thames, Deane took Captain Davis’s arm. He felt unsteady. He inhaled deeply the crisp autumn air. Suddenly, he turned to the captain and collapsed into his arms, gasping. After a few hours Deane slipped into a coma and died. Among Deane’s possessions, the only property of any value was a gold snuffbox painted with a portrait of Louis XVI and surrounded by diamonds. It was sold for 90 guineas (about $17,000 today), and the money was sent to his brother for his son’s support.