Empire (22 page)

“T
here are but two important topics remaining for the House to consider, sir: Mr. Robinson’s loan office, and the late act of Parliament.”

“You may count on my signature under the loan office, Mr. Wythe, provided, of course, the Council approves it.” Lieutenant-Governor Francis Fauquier paused to clear his throat. “As to the late act, well, I believe that will give us all a stretch of bother, and you may
not
count on my signature, if whatever answer to it your fellows contrive I judge to be indecent and offensive.”

George Wythe, burgess for Elizabeth City near Norfolk, was not with his fellow “great ones” at Mrs. Campbell’s Tavern that same evening, but had supped with the governor and George Washington at the Palace. Washington often stayed at the Palace when he came to Williamsburg. At the moment, their supper behind them, they sat together around a table in a small room near the Lieutenant-Governor’s quarters, playing a brisk game of five-card loo. At their elbows were piles of wooden chips and glasses of French brandy. A window was open to the pleasant May evening air, which stirred the curtains and the candlelight. A stack of chips sat in the middle of the green baize cloth that covered the table.

“It is hoped that nothing is contrived,” remarked Wythe. “What needed to be said was said by us last session. But the act may be debated in the coming week, provided, of course, there is something to debate. Mr. Robinson and Mr. Randolph would lief wait until a copy makes an appearance.”

Washington said to Fauquier, “I have a suspicion, sir, that what the House may contrive will not require your signature.”

The Lieutenant-Governor hummed in thought at this remark. “It is a prudent thing that Mr. Robinson will not permit debate on the act until an official copy of it is at hand,” he said. “Is one, my friend?” he asked Wythe.

Wythe shrugged. “I have no knowledge of it, sir, if one has indeed
arrived.” He shook his head. “And if one does arrive, it is too serious a matter to consider calmly in so short a time. I will then recommend that discussion of it be deferred to the next session.”

Fauquier nodded in satisfaction. “You may convey that sentiment as my own to the House, Mr. Wythe.” He turned to Washington. “Of course, if what the House contrives is of a rash and defiant nature, I will have no choice but to dissolve the Assembly.”

“That would be your privilege and duty, sir,” replied Washington with a restrained deference that seemed to cloak an inexplicable hostility, one which the Lieutenant-Governor had never known before in the man.

Wythe nodded in agreement. He acted as the Lieutenant-Governor’s unofficial spokesman in the House. “Loo!” he exclaimed suddenly, after the governor had dealt him a replacement card. With practiced grace, he fanned his card hand over the green baize; they were all of the same suit, which beat the hands held by Washington and the governor. He reached over and added the stack of chips to his own pile.

It was Washington’s turn to deal. As he collected the cards and shuffled them, Wythe asked him, “What are your thoughts on the loan office, sir?”

Washington frowned and said over the whisper of the cards moving in his fingers, “What little has been said about it, sir, I dislike. True, a loan to us by British merchants would bring us some true sterling here. God knows, we need such money in these parts. But I must ask this: For how long would that sterling stay in our purses, before it was whisked away in duties and taxes and the debts we already owe those gentlemen?” He shook his head. “I am not in favor of increasing our debt to them. My children and grandchildren would needs spend their whole lives paying it off, living on their own property as mere tenants of absentee landlords in London, for that would be the only end consequence.” He smiled gravely at Wythe, to let him know that he had other thoughts on the subject, but would not voice them here. He dealt the cards.

“I see,” said Wythe. He picked up the cards Washington had dealt him. “And…on the Stamp Act?”

Again, Washington shook his head, but glanced first at Fauquier as he replied to his fellow burgess. “With all due respect to our host and the Crown, I believe it is as villainous a piece of legislation as can be imagined. It is the logical successor of the Proclamation of ’63. It must be protested again, if not in this session, then in the next. That is when I expect words
to be exchanged over it, and many of those may be my own. I do not think the people of this colony will long tolerate it, and will press their representatives to contest the act. Now, I have a wheat harvest to oversee, and that will not wait. I shall depart after the loan office matter has been voted on. But, come next November, I
will
have something to say about that act.” Relaxing his scowl, the colonel turned again to study the hand of cards he had dealt himself.

Wythe blushed in embarrassment; his cards dropped from his hand, and he stared first at Washington, then at Fauquier. The Lieutenant-Governor blinked in astonishment. He could hardly believe his ears. This man, he thought, so reserved and cool, had not expressed a word of anger on any matter, except once, during a game last November, when he had a winning hand but failed to trump in time.

Fauquier felt compelled to answer his description of the Stamp Act as “villainous,” but did not know how to answer without provoking an argument. He feared any confrontation with Washington. This man, he also knew, could swear worse than any army sergeant, and his liberal use of profanity had probably saved Braddock’s routed army from complete annihilation many years ago. The Lieutenant-Governor studied his cards without seeing them. “Villainous, you say?” he remarked. “Well, it is your privilege as a burgess to call it what you wish, my friend.” As he spoke, he could only imagine the ludicrousness of his small frame standing toe to toe in opposition to the towering figure of Colonel Washington.

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, which, 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.”