War

by Edward Cline

  One of the horsemen remarked to his companion, “It may be difficult to find lodging here, Mr. Manners. This place is nearly as busy as Charleston.” He glanced up Duke of Gloucester Street, and nodded. “That must be the legislature, up there.” Even as he watched, the Great Union flag was yanked down from its pole atop the cupola and belfry. The stranger frowned, and thought there must be some connection between that event and the procession to the large, white-painted tavern in front of them. “I say, sir,” he hailed one of the spectators, who looked like a merchant, and pointed to the Raleigh with his riding crop. “That place seems to be very popular. What is happening here?”

  The gentleman looked up at the stranger. “Well, sir, you could say that the Raleigh there is the other Capitol chamber for our burgesses. You see, the Governor dissolved the House not an hour ago over some matter that displeased him, and that’s where those fellows usually go to meet again when they’re in a funk. Third time in as many years, I believe.”

  “I see. Thank you, sir.” The stranger abruptly smiled when he recognized one of the faces among the burgesses. He suppressed a compulsion to hail that man, permitting himself only a chuckle. He turned to his companion. “Well, let us find lodging, Lieutenant. The day grows old, and we must see some of this town, and rest before we present ourselves to Lord Dunmore tomorrow.”

  Captain Roger Tallmadge and Lieutenant William Manners reined their mounts around and rode back down the boulevard. After several inquiries, they eventually found lodging in the establishment of Gabriel Maupin, a tavern and hostelry on the corner of Market Square. Two burgesses who elected not to join their colleagues at the Raleigh Tavern had claimed their riding chairs and mounts and departed for home. No one who observed the newcomers knew that they were serving officers in His Majesty’s forces, for they wore civilian clothes and did not identify themselves or state their business in town.

  In the course of the debates in the Apollo Room, Hugh asserted, and many former burgesses nodded in agreement with him, that “the colonies may exist in harmony as separate nations, if you will allow it, and perhaps combat Parliament’s encroachments on our liberty with the general congress under consideration here, united temporarily under one ad hoc political affiliation.” A boycott of East India tea was also debated, as well as what other British goods should be banned from importation and use until the Boston Port Act and other abuses had been repealed.

  During a break in the debates, Hugh and Jefferson again talked privately outside, in the rear of the tavern, both wanting to escape for a while the stifling atmosphere inside and breathe the fresh spring air. Jefferson shared his thoughts on a paper he was planning to write on the complaints of the colonies addressed to the mother country, “absent our usual expressions of servility — I know you will appreciate that aspect of it — in the event a convention is decided on. A summary view of matters that outlines the salients of our arguments and explains our resistance to Crown depredations.”

  Hugh also confessed a plan to pen another pamphlet. “When one thinks hard on it, the requirement by the Board of Trade and Privy Council of a suspending clause in all our legislation was not so niggling a matter as we were want to think. It was simply an overture, if you will, a precursor to a summary suspension of all our rights. It is no surprise to me that the Crown has never relinquished or relaxed the requirement. Its refusal to surrender that rule should have been a warning.”

  Jefferson nodded in agreement, then sighed. “So many things are clearer in hindsight.”

  “Yes. And now we must acquire the strict habit of foresight.”

  “Are so many men capable of that habit?” wondered Jefferson.

  “I know of one or two,” Hugh answered. He was thinking of his friend, Jack Frake.

  * * *

  The next morning, in the Palace, Captain Tallmadge and Lieutenant Manners were made to wait before being granted an audience with the Governor. The captain eventually presented his commission to Captain Edward Foy, Dunmore’s personal secretary, who appeared about an hour after they announced themselves to the footman who admitted them. He queried Foy about yesterday’s parade of burgesses. Foy replied brusquely and unconvincingly that he was ignorant of the cause, and left to report the presence of the visitors to His Excellency.

  The two officers resigned themselves to another hour of inactivity, and decided to amuse themselves by identifying the many kinds of muskets that decorated the ceiling and walls of the marble-floored foyer, and so were startled when Foy returned almost immediately and escorted them from the Palace to the Governor’s offices in the annex next door. Foy asked the lieutenant to wait in another room while he escorted Tallmadge upstairs to the Governor’s office.

  “From the War Office?” blurted Dunmore contemptuously after the introductions had been made and drinks poured. “Rather premature of the member for Plymouth, I would say, to begin assessing native strengths! And, pessimistic, I might add!” His rancor was reserved for William Wildman, Irish Viscount Barrington, Secretary-at-War since 1765. Irish peers could not sit in the House of Lords, but could hold seats in the Commons. He handed back over his desk Tallmadge’s commission, which was signed by the Earl of Rochford, Secretary of State for the Southern Department, and Lord Barrington.

  Taking it and resuming his seat before the Governor’s desk, Tallmadge replied, “General Gage’s reports to His Majesty, the Privy Council and the Board of Trade have moved the ministry to seek a better grasp of the situation here, and to better appreciate the strengths and weaknesses of the militia. I understand that on Lord Barrington’s recommendation, the government are preparing for worst contingencies, your lordship.” After a pause, he added, “I will submit my report to General Gage in Boston, and a copy to Lord Barrington, as well.”

  “Well, better they all worried about those devils the Shawnees and Ottawas, and I would commend them for the foresight if they had! The filthy beasts are about to burst upon the settlers in the west! I felt obliged to take action on my own initiative.” He paused to smile in confidence. “I have taken steps to claim that western part of Pennsylvania occupied by the proprietors of that sorry colony to the north. I have even arranged to appoint a governor of it. Of course, the Shawnees and Ottawas will dispute the annexation, and no doubt the Pennsylvanians.” He chuckled. “Well, if His Majesty and the Council can redraw the boundaries of Quebec clear down the Mississippi, they can settle our differences with Pennsylvania by ceding Virginia what it lawfully claims, and redraw those lines, as well!”

  Tallmadge shifted in his chair and replied as tactfully as he could, “But, your lordship, I had thought that the Proclamation of ten years ago ordered that part of the continent closed to settlement.”

  Dunmore shrugged. “To private settlement by these land companies, yes. However, it does not bar the Crown from formulating its own designs on the region.” He sighed. “But, private settlers aplenty there are there, and scruffy shirtmen and other English barbarians by the score. They range over the area at will, poaching as they like and clearing land for farms and provoking the savages. But, the region is ripe with possibilities in land and trade. Why, George Washington and I discussed the idea of a joint venture there just the other day, while his fellows in the House were plotting the offense for which I dissolved them. Mr. Washington — a likeable fellow, but at times too full of himself, I would say — likes to be called ‘colonel,’ a grave disappointment to me. Seems his task was to keep me away from the Capitol while they did their dirty work.” He snorted once in the lingering humiliation of having been duped.

  Tallmadge kept his thoughts to himself. He had heard of the Earl’s appetite for land. It was in conflict with the Crown’s. He doubted that the ministry would approve of the “initiative.”

  Dunmore’s brow furled in curiosity. “What is your regiment, Captain Tallmadge?”

  “None at present, your lordship,” replied Tallmadge. “I am on detached service. However, I was ensign with the 20th Regiment of Foot under Ma
jor General William Kingsley at Minden, and brevetted lieutenant at that action. Since the war, I have served in a number of diplomatic posts, and taught artillery at Woolwich. Also, I have sat for Bromhead in the Commons for eight years.” He took a sip of the wine that a servant had poured him, then added, “Lord Barrington himself interviewed me for my present mission, and pressed upon me its importance.”

  “And why do you and your aide present yourselves to me out of uniform?”

  Tallmadge, sensing that Dunmore was a little vexed by this fact, attempted some humor. “Because we do not have a regiment behind us, your lordship.” Dunmore simply stared at him, unamused. “We judged discretion the better part of valor, in this instance, given the troubles here, and chose to make our inquiries in gentlemen’s garb. In the course of our journey from South Carolina, we learned that in many venues, His Majesty’s scarlet was most assuredly not welcome. We could not have gathered as much information as we have, had we flaunted our presence and purpose.”

  Dunmore hummed in concession to his guest’s reasoning, but still did not like it. “Well, Captain Tallmadge, what have you learned?”

  Tallmadge sighed. “I can offer you an assessment, your lordship, in lieu of an incomplete report from my journal notes. It is that if there is trouble, the army will have a difficult time reestablishing authority and order.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “I would say that fully one-third of the armed populace here would be enough to tax the army’s abilities, and that this one-third would outnumber our forces by five to one. And, it would not adopt regular methods of fighting. One-third of the populace seem to be loyal, and the remaining third indifferent.” Tallmadge felt obliged to qualify his assessment. “What the militia lack in discipline and order, they would make up in numbers and tenacity. In any military action, our army might prevail and carry the field, but it would be at obscene cost.”

  Dunmore waved the assessment away with a hand. “You over-worry the situation, Captain. I see the solution immediately. The loyal third could be treated as allies of our forces, and the navy could blockade the ports here to prevent arms or munitions from reaching any rebels.”

  “If they are merely rebels, your lordship. The Americans here would fight on, no matter what steps were taken to debilitate them. And, they are quite adept at smuggling, as you doubtless know.” After a pause, Tallmadge ventured, “I believe it would be a fatal error to regard them as mere rebels.”

  “Why do you say that, sir?”

  “They would be fighting for their liberty. That one word has rung in our ears all the way from Savannah.”

  Dunmore snorted again and shook his head emphatically. “All this talk of liberty and such, it’s just a moonraker for the merchants and planters here! Makes ’em feel good about their treason and grasping ways, and lets ’em bedazzle the noodles of the common folk! High talk by and for low men, that is all it is! Don’t let it scruple your assessment, Captain.”

  “No, your lordship. Of course, not.” Tallmadge exercised the discretion he had boasted of, and refrained from reminding His Excellency that it was not a London mob that the army could be faced with, rioters who could be dispersed with a single volley from grenadiers and a charge by sword-wielding cavalry, but an army largely and ably officered by men who had seen service in the late war.

  Dunmore continued briskly, “If there is trouble, Captain, it will be easily dealt with. No doubt, when you passed through North Carolina, you learned how Governor Tryon dealt with the Regulators there some years ago, when they stirred up disaffection in the hills and challenged Crown authority. He marched out and thrashed them in battle, then executed many of their leaders even as the smoke cleared. Mr. Tryon now governs New York, and I daresay he will act with like verve if there is trouble there. I will act with no less authority, at the first sign of rebellion.”

  After another gulp of wine, the Governor continued. “It’s intolerable, the way these people behave and talk! To listen to them, you would think they resided in France, or Prussia, or Spain and were pauperish wretches who never had two coins to rub together! And, the seditious literature they pass around among themselves! Outrageous, libelous twaddle! But the London papers republish it as though it were amateur poetry!” The Governor paused to lean forward over his desk and shake a finger at his guest. “Mark my words, Captain, when the Crown moves to settle scores, English as well as colonial necks will snap by the dozen, there won’t be enough hemp for all the hangings, and there will be weeping and wailing and the gnashing of teeth in many a house on both sides of the Atlantic!”

  “Yes, your lordship.” After a moment, Tallmadge recovered from this tirade and replied, “We did hear of the Regulator episode.” He did not add that he had also heard that the Regulators’ chief complaint was that they were not represented in that colony’s legislature, and as a consequence were taxed and harassed without any legal means of redress.

  Dunmore looked mischievous. “You know, I was Governor of New York for a while, as well, but received instructions to occupy this Palace after less than a year there, while Governor Tryon was reappointed to New York. I offered to trade posts with him, but he turned me down. I think I got the better part of the bargain!” When he saw the courteous but blank smile on his guest’s face, he said, “Well, you have journeyed through one-half of Virginia, Captain. What is your assessment of trouble here?”

  “Again, your lordship, I judge the populace here to be divided in thirds. I do not expect that assessment to much change as we go on. If your lordship could provide me with whatever numbers he might have on the militia he commands, it would greatly aid my purpose.”

  “I see. Well, my secretary, Captain Foy, can oblige you with those. See him about it. What are your immediate plans?”

  “Lieutenant Manners and I will tarry here for a few days, collecting what information we can, then continue our journey northward, through Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York. We will end our survey in Boston, where we will report to General Gage.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “Doubtless he has been apprised of our presence and mission and expects our arrival.”

  “How did you come here? By way of Norfolk? There’s a loyal town!”

  “True, your lordship,” Tallmadge replied, remembering all the Scottish merchants in that city, which was far larger than Williamsburg. “We passed through it, and Portsmouth, as well. We took a ferry from Surrey to Jamestown and arrived yesterday afternoon, and found lodging. We came into town just as the burgesses were reassembling at a tavern here.”

  “Recalcitrant beggars, those men!” exploded the Governor, hammering a pile of papers before him with a closed fist. “Why, do you know that I tried to get them to pass a bill that would pay Captain Foy a salary from public funds, as was a proper arrangement? They dug in their heels and refused to! Now I must pay him from my own chest! Well, that will change! Many things will change! The government, I hear, are getting up enough bottom to rewrite all these bothersome charters. Massachusetts is just the beginning! There comes a time when a parent must cease coddling his bairns. I told my oldest son that, just the other day, as a warning.”

  Tallmadge let the Governor rant on again about the ingratitude of the colonies and the treason of the agitators, and nodded mechanical agreement at the appropriate times. He thought he could sympathize with the legislature that defied such an abrasive person. Abruptly, Dunmore’s features softened. “Well, Captain! Enough business for now! Would you and your lieutenant be my guests at supper tonight? I am certain, that after so much time in the saddle, you must be starved for decent fare and civil company.”

  Tallmadge had planned to frequent several of the town’s taverns and coffeehouses over the next two days to pick up intelligence, beginning today, and knew that the sooner he and his aide saw to it, the sooner he could make his way to Caxton to see his friend and brother-in-law, Hugh Kenrick. But, he could not decline an invitation from the Governor, fo
r whom he was developing a marked dislike. He said, repressing a sigh, “We would be honored, your lordship. Thank you.”

  Chapter 3: The Intriguers

  Notwithstanding the renewed ill-feeling between the Governor and the burgesses, the ball held in the Capitol in honor of Lady Dunmore the evening of the next day was a grand, well-attended affair, enjoyed by all. The burgesses’ chamber was filled to capacity, overflowing into the adjoining hallway and even to the piazza. Many burgesses still in town had brought their wives with them in anticipation of the event. Minuets, court dances, country-dances, reels and jigs were performed. The town musicians hired for the occasion seemed to be in tireless fettle. The event served to reassure everyone that all was well and that no clash of wills could ever have occurred.

  Most attending Virginia ladies found that Lady Dunmore, even after having birthed seven children, was still a charming, attractive, and genial woman; a few of them remarked in private that she deserved a “better circumstance,” that is, a worthier, more admirable, and certainly a less boorish husband. They reserved judgment on the royal couple’s three older sons (the youngest had been left behind in England) and three daughters, who also were present at the festivities; they seemed well-behaved but a tat condescending, especially Lord Fincastle, who was attending the College. “As full of himself as his father,” whispered many.

  Beneath the gaiety, gossip and music, however, ran an undercurrent of concern and regret — regret that such an occasion might never be experienced again, and concern about the Governor’s intentions. The concern was more often discreetly expressed by men in the piazza than in the crowded chamber, away from all the inquisitive ears there.