Empire

by Edward Cline

  Some anger flared in Washington’s eyes, then annoyance. “It is my privilege as a burgess, sir, and my liberty as a British subject. I make no distinction.”

  “Yes,” replied Fauquier with some humility, “of course not.”

  Wythe ran a hand through his hair, and nodded to his exposed cards. “I have blown my hand, sirs, and spoiled this round. Shall we begin over?”

  His partners agreed, and Washington collected the cards again. As he reshuffled them, Fauquier said to the colonel, “I shall miss your company, sir, when you leave for home. And, perhaps you shall miss mine. I am thinking of writing the Board for permission to return to England for a year or so. I miss England, of course, and there are family matters that require my attention, and physicians to consult on a complaint. Perhaps I shall spend some time at Bath.”

  Wythe had recovered enough to smile at the Lieutenant-Governor. “Should you be granted a leave, sir, I pledge to exert myself to the fullest to help maintain the peace here, so that you may return to a serene and dutiful colony. Mr. Blair, who would act in your place, I am sure will give you the same pledge.”

  Fauquier sighed. “That, Mr. Wythe, is all I ever wished this colony to be — serene and dutiful.” He glanced at his new hand. “Ah! Shall we put wagers on a trick, gentlemen?”

  But although Wythe and the Lieutenant-Governor tried to recapture the exuberance of the game and their own sense of craftiness, they were so preoccupied in their minds with the uncharacteristic surly mood of their giant partner that Washington looed them in three consecutive hands, and ended the evening thirty pounds richer.

  * * *

  The Lieutenant-Governor, George Wythe, and Wythe’s fellow conservatives in the House were subsequently trumped by more serious events. After Washington had retired to his room for the night, Fauquier expressed concern about the other burgesses.

  Wythe assured him that the only talk he had heard among the burgesses about the Stamp Act was a proposal to abolish the Tobacco Act of 1730, which established inspectors and warehouses throughout the colony to control the export of “trash” leaf. All tobacco exports required inspectors’ notes, which were often used in lieu of money, but which also could now require stamps. “Their talk is subdued and weary, sir,” said Wythe, “and hardly intemperate. The idea is not likely to be debated at any length, nor even likely to be admitted as House business. However, we may see petitions on the matter presented next fall.”

  Fauquier’s features widened in incredulity. “But even should the Tobacco Act be abolished, Mr. Wythe, there is a likelihood that the Board and Parliament would reply with a disallowance of the repeal itself. Their eminences know that the inspectors’ notes change hands often enough that they would insist they carry stamps, as well. Imagine the mountains of pence that would accrue from all that business!”

  “Mr. Robinson, Mr. Randolph, and Mr. Pendleton and I have discussed that aspect, sir. It is not a promising business for the House.”

  “And Mr. Robinson’s loan office?” asked Fauquier. He wagged a finger. “Be warned, my friend: I will not sign another bill without it having a suspending clause. And Mr. Robinson and his friends should not breathe easier if the bill is passed. The Board of Trade must approve it, and then the merchants, who must then have introduced in the Commons a companion bill and secure its passage. It may be two or more years before any borrowed sterling reaches these shores.”

  “Mr. Robinson and his friends are aware of those contingencies, sir,” said Wythe.

  On May 23rd, after some minor private bills were voted on, Hugh Kenrick rose before John Randolph could gavel the House into a dinner recess, and was recognized by Speaker Robinson. He said, “I move that the House accept into its hands a copy of the Parliamentary law known as the Stamp Act. An official copy of it has recently arrived, and may now be scheduled for consideration by the House.”

  John Fleming rose. “I second the motion.”

  Startled, Robinson glanced briefly at an equally startled Peyton Randolph, then said with some impatience, “The House will not consider discussion of a rumor of a law, sirs.” He turned and addressed the House. “The gentleman has but a draft of the said act, but we all know the fate of so many mere drafts,” he said with some humor, “both here and in the Commons.” He paused. “Mr. Randolph and the committee of correspondence have informed me that an official draft is not at hand.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” said Hugh to the berobed figure, “but an official copy of that act, signed by commission by the Lord Privy Seal for His Majesty, was forwarded to me by my correspondent, who, unlike Mr. Montague, is a member of the Commons, and apparently availed himself of a speedier mail packet.” He grinned briefly at the Attorney-General in emphasis, then held out a hand. Edgar Cullis put into it a thick mass of bound papers. Hugh held it up, so that all could see the elegantly printed first page. He lifted the sheaf to expose the last page that bore the seal and commissioned signature of King George the Third.

  A murmur of curiosity stirred in the House.

  Robinson had no choice. He asked to see the document. Hugh descended from the benches, approached the Speaker, bowed courteously to him, and handed the papers to him. Robinson inspected the first page, then hastily turned to the last. There he saw the sealed endorsements of the Houses of Commons and Lords, and the Great Seal of the king and the signature of George Spencer, fourth Duke of Marlborough. Robinson nodded to Hugh in dismissal. Hugh threw a secret grin at Patrick Henry as he walked back to his seat next to Cullis.

  Robinson, with ill-concealed consternation and disgust, said to the House, “This is a true copy of the said act.” He gestured to the Clerk of the House, John Randolph. “It is committed to the Committee on Propositions and Grievances.” A clerk rose, took the document, and handed it to John Randolph.

  As many burgesses filed out of the chambers, others gathered around the Clerk’s table to look at the document. Hugh was asked several questions by other members, and joined them at the table. Peyton Randolph studied this young man for a moment, and interrupted another burgess’s question to ask, with cold formality, “How is it, Mr. Kenrick, when neither this House nor the Council, nor even his honor the Governor himself, has been graced with a copy of this law, that your correspondent could so easily lay hands on one?”

  Edgar Cullis looked worriedly at his fellow burgess. Hugh shrugged his shoulders once, and answered, “He is an intimate friend of the Duke of Richmond, sir.” It was folderol, and a truth, thought Hugh, but he was not going to betray Dogmael Jones or his methods. He knew how much Randolph and many of the other older members regarded the nobility with reverential awe, and perhaps even envy. He also knew how reluctant they were to begin serious debate on the Stamp Act.

  Randolph’s eyebrows went up in surprise. He replied, with as much dignity as he could muster, “I see.” There were no further questions.

  Patrick Henry remarked to Hugh, as they walked to the Blue Bell Tavern for dinner, “They will still call it a copy, though its seals seem to have fixed in their minds the reality of the malignity.”

  On Friday, May 24th, the loan office proposal was introduced and debated. Edmund Pendleton rose to explain the intricacies of the scheme. Other planters spoke in its favor and advocated that it be assigned to a committee to be worked into a bill. Speaker Robinson, its originator, was unusually quiet during this debate, neither advocating its adoption nor questioning its baffling complexity. Although he noted the pensive and confused looks on the faces of many of the burgesses, he did not require Pendleton to clarify the proposal’s more abstruse points.

  In answer to one burgess’s question about the benefit of a loan office to Virginia, Pendleton answered that “the depressing circumstances of this colony — the present low price of tobacco, the recent ban on our ability to issue money, the nullification of so many patents on land west of the Blue Ridge — all these factors, and others, have obliged so many persons here of substantial property to enter into great debts, wh
ich, if their payments were severely demanded, would ruin those men and their families and all who depend on them, and their ruin would with certainty harbinge the ruin of men of lesser and other circumstances throughout this colony. A loan office, supervised by men of the strictest virtue, would enable those more substantial persons to pay their necessary debts with greater ease, and help to put this colony on a firmer and unassailable economical footing.”

  Hugh observed that Pendleton’s answer was more a plea than an answer. He wondered if Pendleton was one of those men of “substantial property.” The man was a key member of the Loyal Land Company and had title to thousands of acres of land in the now-forbidden Ohio Valley and beyond. Many other burgesses in the chamber were also speculators. There were no looks of confusion on their faces, he noted, only a common one composed of hope, patience, and made-up minds.

  Then Patrick Henry rose, was recognized by Robinson, and stunned the House. He excoriated the complexity of the proposal — “only a Newton could conceive of such a Gordian labyrinth…or should we say a charlatan?” — and pointed out that not only did British merchants already control the price of the colony’s exported tobacco, but that the scheme would “allow them to pick our pockets afresh with the proposed ten shillings per hogshead levy, for ten long years, in order to pay back the loan.” He ended his speech with the question, boldly addressed alternately to Speaker Robinson and Pendleton: “What, sirs? Is it proposed then to reclaim the spendthrift from his dissipation and extravagance by filling his pockets with money?” He waited a moment for a response, and when none came, the burgess for Louisa sat down. No one in the House rose to reply to him.

  Pendleton and Randolph exchanged questioning, almost sly glances. The burgess for Caroline and the Attorney-General were not quite certain which was the object of Henry’s rhetorical query: the colonial government itself, which had a debt of £250,000; or the colony’s largest planters, who owed nearly a million pounds to British merchants and the Crown; or particular planters who would be the beneficiaries of a loan office.

  Edgar Cullis leaned closer to Hugh and whispered into his colleague’s ear, “Mr. Robinson is looking oddly contrite.” Hugh glanced at the Speaker, who seemed to cringe in his chair. He also saw that Pendleton’s face, while it had grown rigidly closed and almost monkish, was just a twitch short of the sneering expression of a man who was protecting a lie.

  Pendleton rose and read the loan office resolutions to the House, and a vote was conducted on each. Hugh, Cullis, Henry, and many of the newer burgesses voted “Nay.” It reassured Hugh that even Washington, who was associated with the Ohio Company, a rival of the Loyal Land Company, voted against the office.

  The scheme, however, passed by a comfortable margin, and was ordered prepared for submission to the Council. The plan’s advocates suggested that a special committee be appointed to present it to that body. This was done, and the day was over.

  “They are worried, even in victory,” said Cullis to Hugh, “lest those twelve wise men see through the ‘labyrinth’ and shake their heads.” They walked leisurely down Duke of Gloucester Street back to Mary Gandy’s cottage. They had not decided whether to have supper there or in a tavern. When Hugh did not answer, Cullis looked at his colleague and asked, “What are you thinking, sir?”

  Hugh tipped his hat in greeting as they passed a pair of ladies he had met at the Governor’s Palace the week before. Then he asked in turn, “All those paper notes that were issued during the war and which were supposed to have been retired and burned — is there any evidence that they were destroyed?”

  Cullis searched his memory for a moment, then emitted a slow gasp. “Why…well, I don’t know…Mr. Robinson is the Treasurer…. But, now that you mention it, well, I don’t recall that he ever reported to the House that it was done…. ” He looked at Hugh with shock and amazement. “I see what you are suggesting. And now I know why Mr. Henry was so coy in his accusations today…. It puzzled me, why he was not more forward in his opposition to the scheme…. ”

  Hugh sighed. “It cannot be proven, not unless the Treasurer’s books are very closely examined,” he said. “Mr. Henry is eager to press for an investigation, but not until the next session. But you see how simple a task of legerdemain it would be for Mr. Robinson to substitute the expected sterling notes for those paper monies, at least in the account books. If there have been secret loans of those condemned notes, their amounts and dates could be altered to conform to the sterling. And then, the paper notes could truly be destroyed — and with them, any evidence of malfeasance. And it is Mr. Robinson who grants leave for an examination of the books. His own private account books would need to be examined as well, for that is where the truth would be found.” Hugh shook his head. “He got away with it last time, as you related to me, by blaming the deficit on delinquent tax collection by the sheriffs. But I do not believe he could fox another inquiry of that kind. Why propose only a two hundred and fifty thousand sterling loan, and not some other amount?”

  “It was Mr. Richard Lee who pressed the matter, and sat on the examining committee,” said Cullis.

  “And he sat on the committee that composed the protests last fall,” said Hugh. “You said that the language he proposed was not prudent enough for the others. It is little wonder that he has absented himself from this session.” He chuckled. “Well, Mr. Henry has given them a warning.”

  The sun was beginning to set over the main building of the College of William and Mary in the distance, casting it into a long shadow. They heard the rattle of a carriage and the thud of hooves on the sandy boulevard behind them, and turned to see who was coming. It was the open landau of John Blair, president of the Council and Auditor-General. With him were Thomas and William Nelson of York County, and Peter Randolph, members of the Council. Hugh and Cullis doffed their hats in courtesy as the landau passed them, and the passengers nodded in answer. Behind Blair’s came two more carriages, occupied by the rest of the Council. The carriages turned right on Palace Green and drove toward the Palace.

  Before the last one was out of sight, Hugh stopped abruptly, his face twisted in sudden disgust and frustration. He tore off his hat and angrily flung it into the air. “Oh, what a conniving club of uncles, cousins, brothers-in-law, and nephews!” he exclaimed. He faced a startled Cullis and waved a finger at the Capitol far down Duke of Gloucester Street. “It is too much that we are dunned without by petty thieves in London, and snivelled within by that…that rookery of rogues!”

  Cullis blinked in helpless silence at the outburst. He looked around, found his colleague’s hat, picked it up, and handed it back to Hugh. All he could think to say was, “I am certain that the Council will reject the loan office, sir.”

  Hugh took his hat and slapped it once against his leg to shake off the dust. He nodded once in thanks to Cullis, replaced his hat, then asked, “Why are you so certain?”

  Cullis said, “The Nelsons…they are a merchant family, not planters. They will see the guff in the scheme, and persuade the others to vote against it.”

  “I hope you are right, sir,” said Hugh. He smiled then, and touched his colleague’s shoulder. “Never think that I disvalue your advice and greater experience in this place,” he said. He nodded to a tavern across the boulevard. “Come. I will treat you to a bumper of spirits to raise our own.”

  * * *

  “Look, sirs,” remarked Patrick Henry to his companions, “they begin to retreat even before the enemy comes into sight.”

  He sat on a bench outside the Raleigh Tavern with John Fleming, George Johnston, and Colonel Munford. The Saturday morning sun shone down on a boulevard that now was busy with the beginning of an exodus. Duke of Gloucester was alive with the passing of carriages, riding chairs, wagons, and horsemen as burgesses, traders, and farmers departed the capital for their distant homes and plantations. The General Court had discharged most of its cases, and the General Assembly was nearing the end of its session, which was actually a continuation of
the session from last fall.

  John Fleming lit a pipe, and, tossing away his match, said, “They are certain that the loan office will be approved by the Council and governor, that is all.” He was one of the seven men appointed to present the proposal to the Council. He believed in its practicality, and did not ascribe ulterior motives to its purpose, as did his friend Henry.

  “That is the only reason they attended,” said Johnston, “to ensure passage of that proposal.” Like Henry, he suspected there was more behind the idea than a means to salvage the colony’s finances.

  “Who is their enemy?” asked Colonel Munford, leaning over to address Henry, who was separated from him by Fleming and Johnston.

  “Their immortal souls,” said Henry. “Well, good riddance to them. Their departure almost guarantees adoption of at least one of our resolutions. If they were to stay, not one of them would pass, for these fellows are mere ballast, and would have voted against every one of our resolutions without Mr. Randolph or Mr. Robinson having to use his partisan to keep them in line — those two gentlemen being the sergeants of these feckless troops.”

  Munford said, “This is true, sir. But still, we face obstacles. The sergeants remain, who are supported by their best marksmen. Mr. Pendleton, for one.”

  Johnston said, “A few more members are sure to depart tomorrow after the service at Bruton, and more on Monday and Tuesday, when the Council returns our bills and proposals with their decisions.”