Dolley

by Rita Mae Brown

  My brother Temple realized illness spared him book-work and chores. Mother believed him for the first few days, but she noticed his resolve to stay ill weakened when the rest of us had finished our chores. Instead of upbraiding him, she became doubly solicitous and told him he would have to stay in bed for a week. Naturally, heavy foods were too much for his digestive system in his weakened state, so soup would be his only fare. Temple improved within five minutes. How Mother and Mother Amy laughed as he shot out the door shouting, “I’m cured! It’s a miracle!”

  The war raged then, yet we laughed. Whatever happens, no matter how terrible or disruptive, people seek laughter. Apart from the British officer riding into the house, the worst part of our last war was our neighbors’ shunning us or arguing with Father because of our faith.

  I have often reflected on how the people closest to us cause the most pain. Who are the British? They are the enemy but I don’t know them. I can’t call out one soldier or sailor by name. They can disrupt my life or even take it, but let my sister become cross with me and it’s more painful, or perhaps it’s a more personal pain. Curious.

  I’m so tired tonight. Unusual for me.

  Until the morrow, God willing.

  D.P.M.

  Royal British Marines had been moving in the vicinity of Nominy Creek. James Madison was certain they would meet with the troops just landed at Benedict, approximately thirty-eight miles east of Washington. He no longer consulted with his Secretary of War. He hadn’t the time to listen to John Armstrong’s arguments or dismissal of the situation. The formalities would be observed; if Armstrong attended meetings, Madison wouldn’t cut him off, but he saw no good reason to wait for Armstrong’s approval. When General Winder ordered two Baltimore regiments to Washington, Madison thought something was being done at last.

  Militia cavalry rode toward Benedict to cut trees and block the roads. The sun bathed the fields, and a slight breeze made the ride pleasant. It was hard to believe anything bad could happen on such a day.

  The President ordered all government papers moved to safety. This safe destination was up to the officials packing the papers. Most thought just getting the documents across the Potomac would suffice.

  The President also knew that only a few hours of calm remained. As the wagons pulled up to different buildings to be loaded, the people would see the situation and panic. There was nothing he could do about that.

  20 August 1814, Saturday

  The British landed a force of about forty-five hundred men yesterday at Benedict, Maryland. The word reached us today. The messenger was caked in dust, his legs shaking from his hard ride. He handed over the dispatch to French John, who immediately took it to Jemmy. I insisted that the poor fellow go back to the kitchen, where he was given some decent food and drink. Paul found him a new mount. Sukey just stood in the hallway and stared at the man.

  Some citizens along the Maryland shore have hung white sheets from their windows.

  James Blake called out the District of Columbia Militia. What a pathetic sight. Hardly anyone wore a complete uniform, few wore swords, and even fewer carried firearms. Many of the men were barefoot.

  The sight of the militia caused more sympathy than stir.

  It’s as though the city of Washington is holding its breath. Will the British turn northeast against Baltimore or northwest against us?

  Jemmy says we should pelt the enemy from the start. Armstrong appears paralyzed by his own view of events, which is to say he utterly refuses to believe we are the goal. Even now, he does nothing.

  John Van Ness, head of our District Militia, cornered Armstrong. He said that the arrival of new troops “points to a serious blow.”

  Armstrong replied, “Yes, by God! They wouldn’t bring such a fleet without meaning to strike, but it won’t be here. What the devil would they do here?”

  “The seat of government is the most logical target.” It was obvious Van Ness was furious.

  General Winder had the presence of mind to order militiamen from Pennsylvania, Virginia, and parts of Maryland, but I doubt they can get here in time.

  And if they do get here, how can we feed them? The supplies and medical necessities my husband requested well over three months ago were never delivered. I doubt that John Armstrong ever intended to comply with Jemmy’s request.

  I sent Sukey over to Anna’s to tell her all I knew and then on to Madame Serurier. Alarm won’t help anyone. Information will.

  Jemmy ordered all government documents moved out of Washington to safety. By tomorrow everyone in the city will know what has happened and that government papers are being removed. This will cause great alarm, and I can’t blame the people.

  I wish there were something I could do. Failing that, at least I can remain composed. I do so hate it when people allow their fears to gain the upper hand.

  We’re all going to die anyway. Whether that happens tomorrow or years from now, I no longer think it’s of as much consequence as we believe it to be.

  I asked French John what he thought about the number of ships arriving. He shrugged. “I’ve seen the British before,” he said.

  So have I.

  Until the morrow, God willing.

  D.P.M.

  Across the city of Washington the deep ringing of church bells called the faithful to worship. Few citizens made their way to the churches dotted across the city. People ran in all directions. Traffic snarled at every intersection as men, women, and children, household valuables clutched in their hands, hurried out of the city.

  Word reached the President that the cavalry had arrived too late to block the roads to Benedict. The British had moved out.

  James Monroe, in utter frustration, saddled up his horse and rode toward the site where the British had last been reported. He told Madison that he would shadow them and return that evening with a report. There wasn’t time to find an officer to perform this scouting duty, and the Secretary of State didn’t trust anyone else to do it anyway.

  At the Navy Yard, William Jones prepared for the worst.

  Dolley stepped out of the house as the carriage pulled around. The call of the bells provided an eerie punctuation to what sounded like a muffled roar as thousands of human tongues shouted, cried, called, and cursed. Sukey hopped into the carriage next to Dolley.

  “Come on, Paul, we’ve got to get to Anna’s.”

  Dutifully Paul clucked to the two horses and they obediently started out the gate toward the street. He waited for a break in the clogged traffic so that he could wedge his way through. A fancy carriage halted right before Dolley’s. A beautiful woman stood up. Dolley recognized her as the wife of Timothy Pitkin, staunch Federalist from Connecticut.

  The congressman’s wife shrieked at Dolley, “You! See this hair of mine?” She unpinned the beautiful hair for which she was renowned and let it cascade around her shoulders like a titian cape. “I would pray that I might part with it if it could be used to hang Mr. Madison!”

  Her driver flicked his whip and Mrs. Pitkin flopped backward in her seat, screaming at Dolley all the while.

  Sukey started to shake. “She’s crazy. That white woman’s crazy, missus; she wants to kill you.”

  Dolley put her hand on Sukey’s shoulder to calm her, but Sukey stood up and shook her fist at the lurching, receding figure of Mrs. Pitkin. “You can’t talk that way to Missus! Clabberface! You can’t! You can’t, you can’t!”

  Paul spied an opening and moved toward it. Sukey fell forward but Dolley caught her. Sukey was sobbing.

  “It’s all right. People say strange things when they’re frightened.” Dolley patted her hand.

  “She’s talking about killing the Master.” Sukey trembled. “Are people gonna come and kill him? They gonna kill us?”

  “No, of course not.” Dolley’s stomach clenched into a knot.

  “They gotta get through the door first.” Paul felt the same fear.

  “That white woman, she—you fed her!” Sukey stood up again to ca
tch another glimpse of the receding, hysterical figure. “Ifin she come back in the house I’m gonna poison her!”

  “She didn’t know what she was saying.”

  “Yes, she did. Her husband’s one of the Master’s enemies in Congress.”

  Dolley waved her handkerchief in front of her face to keep the dust off. “I thought you didn’t pay attention to those matters.”

  “I know who’s for us and who’s against us.” Sukey’s voice was firm again.

  “I thought you didn’t mind if the British came. They’ll set you free.”

  “Don’t believe what French John says. He hates me.”

  “Sukey.” Paul’s voice put her on guard.

  “I changed my mind!” Sukey hollered.

  “Why?” Dolley asked.

  “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” replied Sukey.

  Paul kept driving. He both hated and loved Sukey. He wished he could put his arm around her right now.

  Finally the carriage reached F Street. Dolley hopped out and dashed to the door. Paul stayed behind to wipe the dust from the horses’ nostrils and eyes and to bring them water. The day was warming up.

  The dust cloud reflected the sunlight, making it difficult to see. It felt as if one were moving in a gritty fog.

  “Anna. Anna,” Dolley called as the children ran for her. “Hello, boys, where’s your mother?”

  James Madison Cutts, Anna’s oldest at nine, grabbed his aunt’s hand and led her into the back rooms. Anna and Richard were packing the children’s things.

  “Dolley.” Anna embraced her sister, as did Richard.

  “I’ve brought Sukey to help us.” Dolley was matter-of-fact. “What’s to be done?”

  “Well, calming down the boys and Dolley Payne would be a step forward.” Richard smiled weakly.

  “They think this is a great adventure. James wants to stay and fight the British. Thomas wants to do whatever James wants to do, and Walter and Dickey are torn between emulating their big brothers and hanging on to me.”

  “It is a great adventure, I suppose.”

  “Mrs. Pitkin said she was gonna kill Mr. Madison,” Sukey blurted out.

  “What?” Anna’s eyes grew larger.

  “I hate you!” Dickey’s voice, from the next room, had a bloodcurdling edge.

  “Oh, Richard, dear, please do something,” Anna pleaded.

  Her husband went into the next room and the sound of all the boys yelling at once soon followed.

  “Dear God, please let this next baby be a girl.” Anna rolled her eyes heavenward and then looked at Dolley. “Now, Mrs. Pitkin.”

  “Not quite herself, Anna—”

  “Herself is bad enough.” Anna smiled. “I’ve known few women as vain or as stupid.”

  “What would Mother say to a statement like that?” Dolley started putting clothes in a small valise.

  Sukey picked up clothes without being told to do so.

  “Our mother wouldn’t have said it but she would have thought it. Anyway, I interrupted you. Whatever did she do?”

  Sukey went on. “She stood up in her carriage, that fancy green-and-gold one, and she pulled her hair down and said she wanted to cut it off and hang the President with it. That woman was crazy.” Sukey relished retelling the event.

  “No.” Anna was all disbelief.

  “Crazy as someone on corn liquor. Crazy!” Sukey imitated the distressed Mrs. Pitkin.

  “Did she really?”

  “She did,” came Dolley’s crisp reply.

  Walter, six, streaked through the room, Dickey in hot pursuit. The two boys ran out the other door. Richard, chasing both of them, was huffing and puffing. He hurried after them. Little Dolley Payne, on her short legs, brought up the rear.

  “Richard, Richard, don’t tire yourself,” Anna called.

  “Five wild Indians, and you tell me not to tire myself,” Richard, panting, called as he kept running. “Walter and Dickey, if you don’t stop this minute, I am going to tan your hides!”

  Dolley started to laugh. Sukey followed and then Anna, too.

  “Do you think the British would like four bad little American boys and one little American girl?” Anna, very pregnant, laughed so hard she needed to sit down and couldn’t get there. Dolley helped her into a chair.

  “That’s why they’re over here, Anna, to get away from their own,” Dolley replied, and they laughed again.

  Suddenly Anna started crying. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “The whole world’s gone mad.” Anna wiped away her tears.

  Richard came back into the room. “What’s this?” He bent over his wife and kissed her.

  “I can’t leave Dolley.” Anna burst into fresh tears.

  Dolley, sitting on the arm of the chair, firmly told her, “You can and you will. Think of the children, Anna, and think of the one to come. You must take care of yourself and your family.”

  “You’re my family.” Anna grabbed her sister’s hand. “What will happen to you?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Dolley, you’re a rotten liar. You can fool other people by putting on a good face but you can’t fool me. What if the British capture you?”

  “I can run faster than they can.”

  The children entered the room and, seeing their mother’s distress, went silent.

  Richard spoke to James and Thomas. “Go outside, boys, and help Paul with the horses. Take Walter and Dickey and Dolley with you, please.”

  “I want to stay with Mommy.” Dolley Payne moved toward her weeping mother.

  “You will help Paul—now.”

  The older brothers shepherded the three smaller ones outside. Dickey and Dolley Payne cast their mother a mournful glance. She blew a kiss to them and they left willingly after that.

  “Why don’t you come with us to the Forrests’? They’d be delighted to offer you refuge, and the British aren’t interested in that part of Maryland.” Richard sat down on the other arm of the chair, which wobbled, so he stood up again. He was heavier than Dolley, who kept her seat.

  “Do come with us.” Anna kissed Dolley’s hand.

  “No, my place is here with my husband.”

  “For God’s sake, you could be killed!” Anna was now racked with sobs.

  “Anna, Anna, please.” Richard tried to comfort her. “You can’t allow yourself to get upset like this. Think of the baby, darling.”

  “He’s right.” Dolley got up and began packing more clothes.

  “Oh, Dolley, I couldn’t live without you.”

  Now tears crept into Dolley’s eyes. “Well, I feel the same way about you. Now please, go. We both must trust in God’s will.” Anna quivered and Dolley pressed on. “Anna, we weren’t raised to cry over what we can’t control. We must each do what we can and I am the President’s wife. My duty rests with him. Your duty is to your husband and family. You will get in the carriage and you will go. Take only what is absolutely necessary.”

  Anna stopped crying. “Are you afraid?”

  “No.” Dolley smiled. “I think I’m too stupid to be afraid, and I’ve got too much to do to take the time to be afraid.”

  “You’re far from stupid, but you are stubborn.” Anna wiped her eyes with Richard’s help.

  “What’s left to be done here?” Dolley asked.

  “I think we’ve got most of it.” Richard glanced around the room. “Anna, can you think of anything?”

  “Their toys. It will keep them occupied, I hope.”

  “Or give them something to fight over,” Dolley said.

  “All right.” Richard headed for the boys’ rooms. “One toy each.”

  “And don’t forget the dog, Richard, whatever you do.”

  “Pepper’s out with the children and Paul.” Richard left.

  “You know what was funny about Mrs. Pitkin’s carrying on the way she did?” Dolley shook her head. “Her
language. You would have thought she was addressing a convocation of congressional wives.”

  “The Federalists wallow in formality—and treason.” Anna, with Dolley’s and Sukey’s help, struggled up.

  “I’m trying to consider their politics a dramatic difference of opinion. What about these shoes?”

  “Walter’s. Leave them. He can do with the pair he’s got on, which he will outgrow by the time we reach the Forrests’ house.” Anna blew her nose. “We’ll choke to death before any of us are shot.”

  “You can barely see your hand in front of your face outside.”

  “I never thought I’d live to see something like this,” Anna said quietly.

  “Nor did I, but here we are, and Anna, don’t give in to despair. If we do that, they’ve won. No matter what, we’ve got to keep fighting.”

  “Like the winter Lucy was born. Do you remember? Mother Amy used to tell us about Washington and how the war seemed lost, and then she’d say, ‘But Lucy was born, and that changed everything.’ ” Anna smiled.

  “What I would give to have her with us now—and Mother.” Dolley paused for a moment.

  “Mother would say the same thing you did. Don’t give in. Keep going. No tears.”

  Then both said in unison, “Trust in God.”

  21 August 1814, Sunday

  Anna left the city today, for which I am grateful. She cried that she didn’t want to leave me, but in the end, good sense prevailed.

  When I came back home, Jemmy was gone. Only French John and Uncle Willy remained in the house. How oddly quiet it was. Even on slow days there is usually a deputation from some part of the country wishing to see the President. French John informed me that Jemmy left for more meetings.

  Events are moving so fast and yet, at the same time, so slowly. I alternate between feeling I must do everything and feeling I can do nothing at all, between wild energy and lethargy. There are moments when I am sure nothing is real, that this is a nightmare. Then I awaken.