by Edward Cline
Hugh relaxed visibly, but with a sigh, said, “Mrs. Frake? Yes. I believe she would be delighted to accept such an invitation, your honor.”
“Excellent. I will have my secretary write a note to her, and you may convey it to her when this session is adjourned. Now, I understand that you journeyed to England recently. I miss England. Please, tell me about your stay. And allow me to introduce you to my wife and son…. ”
At the end of the brilliant evening, which acted as a tonic on his spirits, Hugh was accosted outside the Palace gates by one of the musicians who had performed with the Governor a transcription of a Telemann horn concerto. The man tucked his violin case under his other arm and offered his hand. “Mr. Kenrick, I have not forgotten our first meeting, and your suggestion — or was it my own? — that we take in a play.” He paused when he saw that Hugh, who was thinking of other things, did not recognize him. “Thomas Jefferson, of Albemarle.”
“Oh, yes,” replied Hugh, peering into the hazel eyes and recognizing the red hair by the flickering light of a cresset. “Mr. Jefferson! Forgive me my oversight.” He took the young man’s hand and shook it. “My compliments on your playing tonight.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jefferson glanced at the departing guests, some of whom were leaving on foot, while others ascended closed and open carriages. “Is one of these yours, sir?”
“No, I walked. I am boarding for the session in a house near the College. That is my destination now.”
“Then may I join you as far as the end of the Green?” asked Jefferson. “There we must part, for I am boarding for the moment at Mr. Wythe’s house” — he pointed to a residence they were passing — “and am reading law under that gentleman.” George Wythe, a prominent Williamsburg attorney, was burgess for William & Mary College and a member of the House’s two most important standing committees. “Even though his duties in the House consume much of his time, he this morning found enough time to assign me more portions of Coke to absorb, in addition to some Greek! I must attend to that now, for I spent most of the afternoon practicing for our entertainment at the Palace.”
“It was time well spent,” remarked Hugh as they strode together in the chilly night.
“There is a new acting troupe in town, directly from New York, Gascoyne and Pennycuff. Tomorrow night they put on Richard the Third and a short farce by Mr. Garrick, The Lying Valet. Are you game?”
Hugh smiled. “I cannot think of a better way to pass the evening.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Jefferson. “I can meet you at the theater at six-thirty. I have heard that this troupe are very talented.”
Hugh chuckled. “Well, even if they are not, Gascoyne and company are likely to offer more drama than does the House.”
“Are you attending the debates?”
“I am now a burgess for my county.”
“Oh…I see.” Jefferson was silent as their shoes crunched over the cold, hardened ground. “Mr. Wythe tells me that the House and the Council are laboring over the protests to be sent to London over the proposed stamp taxes. He is composing the remonstrance, and Colonel Bland the address and memorial. How do you think the matter will end? Do you think the men in London will heed their words?”
Hugh shrugged. “I cannot say at this moment, sir. I am inclined to doubt that our advice will carry any weight. As the House despairs of convincing the Board of Trade and Parliament of the corrections of right reason, Parliament and the Board are habituated to their power over us.” He paused when the carriage of John Blair, president of the Council, rattled by them. “I am quite certain that, in the future, we will have cause to pen numerous analogies that compare the differences between ancient Greek and Roman colonial policies.”
* * *
Gascoyne and Pennycuff staged an abridged and mediocre Richard the Third, while The Lying Valet elicited a few chuckles from the audience. The theater was packed that evening. It was once a courthouse on the Palace Green, and had been moved to its present site not far from the House’s side of the Capitol. Members of the audience marveled more at its conversion into a legitimate theater than they did about the main play. The place was empty most of the year, except when traveling musicians and magic shows came to town for a few nights.
Hugh and Mr. Jefferson hurried from the theater and made their way to the Blue Bell Tavern just up the street for a late supper. Over their meal they exchanged anecdotes from their lives. Jefferson asked Hugh if he had noticed a certain young lady in the audience, seated a few rows closer to the stage. “A few months ago I was gathering the courage to approach her on the subject of marriage, when I learned, quite to my dismay, and in contradiction to all the signs from her to me that the subject was not an unfriendly one, that she had gone and married a Yorktown merchant! I have only lately recovered from the blow, and sent her my wishes for her happiness.”
“A wise course of action,” remarked Hugh.
Later in their conversation, Jefferson revealed that before he attended the College, he spent two years attending a school in Fredericksville that was run by Reverend James Maury, the very same minister who had sued the collectors of that parish for back pay when the Two-Penny Act was disallowed by the Board of Trade. “He remains stung by memories of that day, sir,” said Jefferson, “and by the charge that he was a ‘rapacious harpy,’ as that lawyer, Mr. Henry, suggested he was. Reverend Maury is a kind man and a superb teacher.” He paused to smile. “Now, Mr. Wythe informed me some time ago, just after the Assembly convened, that this same lawyer represented a plaintiff before the Committee of Privileges and Elections, contending that Mr. Dandridge, his client, had lost his place in the House because the new burgess, Mr. Littlepage, had stooped to unfair practices in order to win election. The Committee dismissed the suit as ‘frivolous and vexatious,’ much as Mr. Wythe and the other members of the Committee believed was Mr. Henry’s victory over Reverend Maury. I will confess that I was happy to hear it.”
Hugh shook his head. “Perhaps Mr. Henry so styled him because he and the other clergy wished to profit from an arbitrary interference with Virginia’s internal affairs, just as Parliament is prepared to do again.” He held the eyes of his supper companion. “It would profit you, sir, to stand back from your intimacy with particular men and events to gain a broader vista of matters.”
The younger man’s face acquired a reddish hue nearly the color of his hair; his freckles quite disappeared in the flush. Hugh could not decide whether its cause was anger or embarrassment. He continued, “You are reading law now, Mr. Jefferson, and I presume that you intend to enter that career, once you have been certified by your mentors. Now, most lawyers based their careers on established law, and have little occasion — I will not say ‘courage’ — to question the propriety of the law they may practice. I have observed they rarely avail themselves of the opportunity to challenge the moral aspect of patently unjust statutes. It is a principal reason why the profession is not more honored, not even by those who find it lucrative. However, I believe that in the future, if the Crown presses its policies on us, that profession may have the chance to redeem itself. You will be a lawyer by then, and have both the occasion and the courage to participate in that redemption. That is my sincerest hope.”
Jefferson said nothing for a while. The red faded from his face. He said, “You are an unsettling, presumptuous fellow, Mr. Kenrick, but, harsh as it may seem, the wisdom of your words is quite…correct.” He nodded once. “I thank you for the confidence you place in me. I shall keep your words in mind.” His throat was dry, and he took a sip of his ale. “Have you spoken in the House?”
Hugh shook his head. “Not as yet. The lawyers who govern the business of the House have not yet seen fit to hear me on any matter. After all, I am too fresh, and regarded as unschooled in the business, and as something of an interloper, as well.”
Jefferson looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think I shall fit into my own schedule some time among the House’s spectators.”
Chapte
r 9: The Protests
By December 13th, the House had received from the Council corrected drafts of the address, memorial, and remonstrance. Only the address to “the King’s Most Excellent Majesty” survived intact and as originally written, and would remain unchanged. The House in Committee again edited, emended, and rearranged the memorial and remonstrance, which were again approved by the Committee and returned to the Council for further review.
On December 18th, the House, now reduced in size by the departure of a number of burgesses who had gone home, made its last changes. Chairman Peyton Randolph moved that the House go out of Committee and into a formal session to hear last arguments for and against the documents, and to conduct individual votes on them. His motion was seconded by Colonel Richard Bland. After a short recess, the remaining burgesses, numbering about eighty, made their way through the crowd in the lobby and public space to their places on the benches. Hugh Kenrick and Edgar Cullis secured seats on the upper tier of the benches on the Speaker’s left.
Young Thomas Jefferson managed to find a place on one of the front benches of the public space; there were few other benches provided for the convenience of spectators, most of whom were content to stand. Behind Jefferson sat a plainly dressed man of about thirty. This man had a high forehead, blue-gray eyes, and an aquiline, almost hawklike nose. His frock coat and breeches were dark, as was the ribbon of his tie-wig. In the course of this final reading of the protests, his neighbors seemed to think that he wanted to rise in protest of the protests. His narrow face would grow red with anger, and his wide mouth whispered inaudible maledictions. He watched the proceedings with an intensity that went beyond mere curiosity and idle interest. He behaved like a man who wished he had a say in the business.
Thomas Jefferson had noticed and recognized the stranger, whom he had met once during the Christmas holidays years ago, when he was en route to the College, but chose not to greet him other than with a nod of the head. And the man did not seem to recognize Jefferson. The law student was too engrossed by the spectacle of the House in session, and pushed aside memory of things he and another had said about the stranger not long ago.
The House reconvened in a formal session. An assistant clerk, William Ferguson, was directed by John Randolph, the clerk of the House, to rise and read each of the final drafts. Speaker John Robinson opened the floor after each reading to any member who wished to make remarks. No one rose to speak for or against the address to George the Third, which notified the king that “the Council and Burgesses of your ancient Colony and Dominion of Virginia…beg leave to assure your Majesty of our firm and inviolable Attachment to your sacred Person and Government,” and asked that he “be graciously pleased to protect your People of this Colony in the Enjoyment of their ancient and inestimable Right of being governed by such Laws respecting their internal Polity and Taxation…with the Approbation of their Sovereign or his Substitute…. ” It was the shortest of the documents; Ferguson read it in five minutes.
John Randolph then conducted a vote, which Ferguson and another assistant recorded. The address was unanimously approved.
The memorial to the “Right Honorable the Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament assembled” was next read to the House. It gently reminded these esteemed persons, in many more words than were addressed to the king, that since the colonies were not represented in Parliament, that body had no authority to tax them, and presumed that their “lordships will not think any Reason sufficient to support such a Power in the British Parliament…a Power never before constitutionally assumed, and which if they have a Right to exercise on any Occasion must necessarily establish this melancholy Truth, that the Inhabitants of the Colonies are the Slaves of Britons…. ” The memorial ended on a bright note, hoping that their Lordships would not construe the document as anything but the “purest Loyalty and Affection as they have always endeavored by their Conduct to demonstrate that they consider their Connexions with Great Britain, the Seat of Liberty, as their greatest Happiness…. ”
Speaker Robinson, when Ferguson had finished, glanced around the House. No one indicated a desire to speak. He nodded to John Randolph, who began to take a vote. As each burgess rose and said “Aye,” the clerks recorded a stroke in their ledgers.
George Wythe, seated between Richard Bland and Peyton Randolph — older brother of John and younger brother of Peter Randolph, Surveyor General and a member of the Council — glanced over the clerks’ table that was situated on the floor between the benches, and noticed his protégé, Thomas Jefferson, sitting among the spectators in the public space. He was about to smile in approval when he noticed another face behind his student.
Peyton Randolph, also from his vantage point of a bench behind the Speaker’s chair, noticed the face, too, and leaned closer to whisper to Edmund Pendleton, “Is that not the blustery scamp of the Dandridge suit last month? I thought we had sent him back to Hanover, chastised and mortified!”
“Who?” asked Pendleton.
“Mr. Henry,” said Randolph with a surreptitious nod in the direction of the subject, “there, sitting behind Mr. Wythe’s new student.”
Pendleton squinted and identified the man. “Why, yes,” he said, “it is he. What is he doing here?”
“I could not say, sir. But I will say now that we should regret having signed his license to practice law. I should have been happier endorsing his license to operate a tavern.”
Pendleton snorted once. “I have heard that he failed in that enterprise, too.”
The memorial was unanimously approved.
The remonstrance was twice as long as the memorial, and took William Ferguson twenty minutes to read to a restive assembly, for he paused before reading those sections of it that had been the subject of vigorous debate.
Hugh Kenrick voted “Aye” for the address and memorial, and intended to approve the remonstrance as well. But he fidgeted so much during the last reading that Edgar Cullis, seated next to him on the top tier of benches, and who had a vague notion of what bothered his colleague, glanced at him once with amused annoyance and sidled a little away from him.
The remonstrance to the “Honorable the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses of Great Britain, in Parliament assembled,” reminded the Commons that the “Council and burgesses…met in General Assembly…judge it their indispensable Duty, in a respectful manner, but with decent Firmness, to remonstrate against” the proposed stamp taxes for the colonies, and that they conceived it was “essential to British Liberty that Laws imposing Taxes on the People ought not to be made without the Consent of Representatives chosen by themselves.” The document then reviewed in detail the logic behind that assertion, delicately raising the fact that since the colonies were self-governing by grace of royal charters, and not by Parliamentary leave or plan, it was unfair and “inconsistent with the fundamental Principles of the Constitution” to exercise a taxing power.
The remonstrance concluded with a litany of dire consequences for the colonies and Britain, even if the remonstrance conceded Parliament’s power to levy internal taxes. The Council and Burgesses protested their “Reverence to the Mother Kingdom…in promoting her Glory and Felicity,” and assured the gentlemen of the Commons that “British Patriots will never consent to the Exercise of anticonstitutional Power, which even in this remote Corner may be dangerous in its Example to the interior Parts of the British Empire, and will certainly be detrimental to its Commerce.”
When Ferguson finished, a great sigh of relief rushed through the House. Everyone present knew that this was the high point of this session of the General Assembly. Speaker Robinson surveyed the chamber, tapped the silver knob of his cane with a finger, and waited for the noise of so much relief to subside. Then he asked, “What say anyone on this remonstrance?” It was a rhetorical query, half question, half warning to anyone who might have an objection or even a compliment. He wished to move on to the last business of the House, and in a few days go home.
To his surprise, a burgess ros
e from one of the upper benches to his left, one of the new burgesses, one whom he had deliberately ignored in the past, for the man had been pointed out to him over the last weeks. Unsavory things about this gentleman had been whispered in his ear. The Speaker therefore did not wish to encourage him to participate in the House’s business. In this policy he had the tacit approval of his senior colleagues. But all the other burgesses, and all the spectators at the end of the chamber, saw the man rise, and they looked at him with inquisitive expectation. Speaker Robinson could not now ignore him without displaying flagrant discourtesy and bias. He wondered what this man could possibly have to say. He sighed, grimaced, and nodded.
Hugh Kenrick nodded in return with an icy smile, then glanced around the chamber at his listeners. Unlike a member of the Commons, he was not bound by the rule of addressing his remarks to the Speaker. He had faced crowds and mobs before, and was unafraid. To his left, Edgar Cullis, wanting to cringe, sat back on the bench, crossing his legs and folding his arms. He was afraid, for he had heard a sampling of his colleague’s oratory months ago.
Hugh spoke. “I will say this only: that the language of the remonstrance wants keenness and vigor. This and its companion obsecrations correctly raise and stress all the intrinsical points that arouse our fears and concerns, but cloak them in coddling, pious terms so as not to disturb the confident composure of their intended correspondents. But this habit defeats the purpose of our communications and saps their force. And that composure, gentlemen, in all justice ought to be swiftly disturbed, to better awaken our colleagues in that greater House to the undeniable wrongness of their contemplated action, to warn them in no vague, fawning terms of the folly of their solution to their own extravagance, to advise them of the inherent belligerency of their means and ends. I feel compelled to remind this House that humility is not a practical, manly virtue in these circumstances. Humility has never met arrogance in the field and vanquished it. There are,” said Hugh, his glance falling briefly on the attentive face of Colonel Washington across the chamber, “many soldiers here today who can attest to that truism. The supplicant who comes before his master with a bowed head, sirs, cannot see the sword raised above him. The ground and the shadow of his own disgrace on it may be the last things he will see before the sword whistles in the air and descends on his neck. I know that the Council and this House have discharged their tasks in the composition and final form of these missives, and believe their duties done. I will endorse these documents, but under this protest.”