prospering. Keep me happy, if only for a little while. Do not make me speak of the crowd of skeletons walking behind me.”
That was something Franklin could understand well enough. “What will make you happy, dear Voltaire?”
“What makes us all happy? A lie or two, I should think. Tell me that after all of my wanderings I have found a place to rest—an El Dorado, an American paradise, an oasis from war.”
“Perhaps I need not lie,” Franklin replied seriously. “It is no paradise. Many did not understand how reliant on Mother England we were. There have been plagues and famine aplenty, and shortages of all goods. And yet we have come through it all with a greater strength. I have been about, too. In Venice, as you know, and two years in Bohemia. America is no Utopia, but it is a better place to be than those.”
EMPIRE OF UNREASON
“War?”
“That is where we have been lucky, I think. Europe is torn by petty and great wars alike. Here, our wars have all been petty. Our Spanish and French neighbors were poorer than we, and it was best we all cooperate in some measure for each to survive. Since we opened the trade with Venice, we’ve had to ally to keep that route open and free of pirates. In all, it has been a test to measure the best in us.”
“But there has been fighting?”
“The French in the north are half-crazed with hunger and cold, as are their Indian allies. They have raided our northern colonies and our Iroquois friends.
As you might guess, we’ve had to make much tighter alliance with the Indians, since no army can come from England to quiet them should they become
‘grieved against us.
“Within the colonies there has been dissent, too, argument over the land held absentee by lords in England who will never claim it, and over the proper method of government.”
“And how did you settle that last?”
Franklin leaned forward, suddenly feeling flushed with brandy and not a little pride.
“Losing England was a harsh blow. And yet some good has come of it.”
“I have heard the rumors—that you colonies have become a democratic republic.”
“That goes too far,” Franklin replied, shaking his head. “But it may be one day.
When we knew England and England’s king were lost to us, we made do as best we could. Each colony was already in some measure self-governing. What was needed was only an o’erarching body to settle questions of the common good. There was a strong Tory sentiment to find a king, but none was to be had. King George and all the Hanover line are dead or remain lost in the EMPIRE OF UNREASON
Germanies someplace, probably under Muscovite rule. We have never heard a word of them. And the blue blood here in America is all so distant—and thin of royal corpuscles—that no one gentleman would concede to bow before another. And so we assembled a Continental parliament—makeshift I’ll admit, so much so that I myself sit in the Commons.”
“Congratulations. And this works?”
“It is a crudely forged thing, but in time I think it can be perfected, if we survive our enemies.”
Voltaire leaned forward, suddenly very intense. “And of kings?”
“We have no need of one. We have become quite Whiggish here. I think we have escaped kings at last. We see we have no need of them.”
“So you say.”
“What do you mean? When I first met you, you had been imprisoned and then exiled by the king of France. You had nothing but disdain for the institution of the monarchy, as I remember you.”
Voltaire shrugged. “The question is not what you or I might want, is it? No king has ever governed without that his people let him do it. People, it seems, are mightily fond of being told what to do and of having someone to blame for the sorry state of their lives.”
“This may be true of some nations, but Englishmen have a natural inclination to liberty, I think, and the Colonials most ofall.”
“Think you so?” Voltaire asked, almost sharply. “Well, in keeping
That was something Franklin could understand well enough. “What will make you happy, dear Voltaire?”
“What makes us all happy? A lie or two, I should think. Tell me that after all of my wanderings I have found a place to rest—an El Dorado, an American paradise, an oasis from war.”
“Perhaps I need not lie,” Franklin replied seriously. “It is no paradise. Many did not understand how reliant on Mother England we were. There have been plagues and famine aplenty, and shortages of all goods. And yet we have come through it all with a greater strength. I have been about, too. In Venice, as you know, and two years in Bohemia. America is no Utopia, but it is a better place to be than those.”
EMPIRE OF UNREASON
“War?”
“That is where we have been lucky, I think. Europe is torn by petty and great wars alike. Here, our wars have all been petty. Our Spanish and French neighbors were poorer than we, and it was best we all cooperate in some measure for each to survive. Since we opened the trade with Venice, we’ve had to ally to keep that route open and free of pirates. In all, it has been a test to measure the best in us.”
“But there has been fighting?”
“The French in the north are half-crazed with hunger and cold, as are their Indian allies. They have raided our northern colonies and our Iroquois friends.
As you might guess, we’ve had to make much tighter alliance with the Indians, since no army can come from England to quiet them should they become
‘grieved against us.
“Within the colonies there has been dissent, too, argument over the land held absentee by lords in England who will never claim it, and over the proper method of government.”
“And how did you settle that last?”
Franklin leaned forward, suddenly feeling flushed with brandy and not a little pride.
“Losing England was a harsh blow. And yet some good has come of it.”
“I have heard the rumors—that you colonies have become a democratic republic.”
“That goes too far,” Franklin replied, shaking his head. “But it may be one day.
When we knew England and England’s king were lost to us, we made do as best we could. Each colony was already in some measure self-governing. What was needed was only an o’erarching body to settle questions of the common good. There was a strong Tory sentiment to find a king, but none was to be had. King George and all the Hanover line are dead or remain lost in the EMPIRE OF UNREASON
Germanies someplace, probably under Muscovite rule. We have never heard a word of them. And the blue blood here in America is all so distant—and thin of royal corpuscles—that no one gentleman would concede to bow before another. And so we assembled a Continental parliament—makeshift I’ll admit, so much so that I myself sit in the Commons.”
“Congratulations. And this works?”
“It is a crudely forged thing, but in time I think it can be perfected, if we survive our enemies.”
Voltaire leaned forward, suddenly very intense. “And of kings?”
“We have no need of one. We have become quite Whiggish here. I think we have escaped kings at last. We see we have no need of them.”
“So you say.”
“What do you mean? When I first met you, you had been imprisoned and then exiled by the king of France. You had nothing but disdain for the institution of the monarchy, as I remember you.”
Voltaire shrugged. “The question is not what you or I might want, is it? No king has ever governed without that his people let him do it. People, it seems, are mightily fond of being told what to do and of having someone to blame for the sorry state of their lives.”
“This may be true of some nations, but Englishmen have a natural inclination to liberty, I think, and the Colonials most ofall.”
“Think you so?” Voltaire asked, almost sharply. “Well, in keeping
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