Who Wants to Instigate?
France's ban on the slave trade sent a single ripple across the American continent. "Could it happen to us too...?" Slaves in the United States and South America heard of the French decree and clung to a shred of hope.
"Master, the slaves have been acting strangely lately."
"What a pain. Don't they even read the papers?"
"Yes, sir. The ones who can read are all working in the big house, aren't they?"
"Tch."
The slave plantation owners in America were none too pleased. France was at least fellow whites, and with some power in Europe, they could afford to play the moral card. What grated most was the slaves expecting that French charity to extend to them.
"Jimmy, before work tomorrow, read this underlined part of the newspaper to the field slaves."
"Yes, Master."
The slave owners decided to inform their chattel of the repercussions of abolition.
"Everyone gathered? We've heard some seditious rumors lately, and the master is quite worried."
"What're you on about? You're a slave too."
"Tch, illiterate field hands."
The house slave brushed off the field slave's retort and read from the paper.
"It says here in Saint-Domingue that flour is so expensive, black folk are starving. The only reason we eat our fill is because the master buys it dear and gives it to us for free—but it's pricey stuff, really."
To scare the field slaves, the house slave exaggerated the article or mixed in lies.
"And freed slaves who ended up on the streets froze to death in the winter cold."
"Hold on, isn't Saint-Domingue in the Caribbean? Does it even get cold enough to freeze there in winter?"
"Hey, don't interrupt. No wonder you're stuck as field slaves. Anyway, I've got dishes to wash. So quit dreaming of emancipation."
The plantation owners' intimidation tactic worked surprisingly well. The rumors of liberation vanished in an instant after the reading.
Of course, the field slaves hadn't fallen for the lies.
"Same as always. Always the same. How's liberation supposed to happen like this? France is France. America's America. Sigh. Back to turning the soil."
As ever, they quieted down only after shelving their hopes.
"Tch, hopeless idiots. Let 'em grub in the dirt forever."
1787 March, New York. Continental Congress chamber.
A single French ship had put into an American port.
"Gentlemen, good day. I am Charles Auguste Dupont, France's plenipotentiary commissioner."
The delegates to the Congress welcomed Dupont, the French plenipotentiary—full ambassador status was still a stretch for America's level.
"Please bear with us a moment. His Majesty has a gift for America."
After receiving the delegates' hospitality, Dupont showed them tens of thousands of sheets of paper—enough to cover the conference table.
Continental bonds.
"Gentlemen, this is six million dollars' worth. Sixty thousand bonds at a hundred dollars each. His Majesty sends these as a gift to celebrate your independence."
The delegates felt the gesture as pressure. The six million in bonds, presented as a "gift," were proof of America's reckless wartime printing, and a problem they had to face right now.
"A gift. A gift. Hmm, even for March, New York's coastal chill bites. Let me add some kindling."
But when Dupont tossed the papers into the Congress chamber's fireplace, the mood shifted dramatically.
Burning the bonds meant erasing their physical proof. In other words, six million dollars of America's debt had vanished from the earth.
"I trust you've received His Majesty's gift? My legs ache, so let's all sit. We have much to discuss."
The rumor that the French commissioner had burned six million dollars in Continental bonds spread like wildfire across America.
"Governor of New York, George Clinton. The commissioner's bold move has shocked us all—right now, every citizen of New York is grateful for France's grace."
"Haha, it's nothing. I did the deed, but His Majesty gave the order."
Thanks to the buzz, even New York Governor George Clinton showed up at Congress. Deeming the caliber sufficient, the commissioner got to the point.
"Governor, gentlemen. Allow me to explain why I've come. You're aware of the severe imbalance in our bilateral current account."
It was about adjusting the current account.
"His Majesty didn't gift those six million in bonds out of mere goodwill. That sum symbolizes your annual deficit."
Around 120,000 dollars piled up weekly, steadily draining America's silver dollars to France. The outflow was so dire that even without National Intelligence Agency ops, France could absorb America's currency.
"You're muddling through with paper dollars at home, but that won't last. You'll run out of silver by the early 1800s, no?"
The delegates fell silent—they had no authority on the matter.
"So, what solution does France seek?"
The governor was different. He held sway over his entire state.
"Not just New York—we'd appreciate each state selling us things that benefit France. After all, aren't we war buddies and close friends? His Majesty doesn't want America to collapse. So he's willing to buy American goods at 'comradely prices.'"
"Then New York offers flour, timber, leather. Dried fish if you want."
The governor touted only what served New York's interests.
"That's not enough. His Majesty seeks current account adjustment for all America, not one state."
France's view differed. For all the talk of friendly concern and comradely rates, the goal was embedding France in America to bind their currency spheres.
"New York respects other states' rights. I can't promise for them."
The anti-federalist George Clinton feigned agreement while drawing a line. But that only worked against equals.
"That's what His Majesty wants. If impossible, he desires a 'single window' to hear all states' interests and views."
Warnings from a puny nation's commissioner—too low for even a full envoy—carried no weight.
"His Majesty worries anti-French sentiment will brew over the imbalance. So, Governor Clinton, if you could unite America for us. For that single window."
"That risks infringing state sovereignty."
Above all, France was America's wartime ally.
"That's New York's view."
Having supplied goods worth two billion francs and bought 100 million dollars in bonds during the war, France had the right to press.
"These are negotiation bonds. Twenty million dollars. I'll stay in New York, so come when your 'single window' appears."
France even had the right to task a staunch anti-federalist with federalism.
1787 May, Philadelphia. Whether George Clinton preached anti-federalism or not, America had long felt the Articles of Confederation's limits. The central government's weakness meant it couldn't even collect taxes, breeding regional development gaps. Many issues plagued them, but the core was that the old Articles couldn't solve America's problems.
A federation could offset states' weaknesses and maximize strengths—problems unsolvable under loose confederation.
French commissioner or no, the Philadelphia Convention was inevitable.
France's demands did influence it directly, though.
"France has banned the slave trade. That means they're moving toward emancipation. It doesn't serve the South."
"France grew tobacco and indigo too—key Southern crops. Disliking abolition is separate from forming a federation."
"A federation infringes state sovereignty but guarantees interests. Whatever it takes, we need a federation."
With staunch anti-federalist George Clinton under direct French pressure, his faction weakened and splintered.
Unlike original history's choice between federation and confederation, Philadelphia became a stark fork: bankruptcy or federation.
The sixty delegates—all thirteen states—debated federation, but how?
"Like France's separation of powers...?"
"That's absolutist. If separating, do it like Britain's."
"Britain's iffy."
"Then three branches it is."
Perhaps spurred by the visible pressure of the French commissioner, Philadelphia swiftly laid federalism's foundations.
In September 1787, the Philadelphia Constitutional Convention produced a draft constitution and elected a provisional congress president as America's single window.
George Washington took the role unanimously—thanks to his ties to French Army General Lafayette and his humble refusal twice before.