War (23 page)

“My company was ordered to escort Earl Hugh Percy’s two guns in the relief foray on the road along which the colonel’s troops were retreating from Lexington. But, about seven miles from Charlestown, and seeing our grenadiers and light infantry being assaulted from both sides, I instinctively saw a means to relieve their agonizing gauntlet, and prevent a rout (which it very nearly became), at least on one side of that road, and offered to lead my company of regimental orphans, whom I had drilled mercilessly during months of idleness, in a defensive flanking of our troops, to drive the militiamen from the woods and hedgerows and fences from which they fired at Colonel Smith’s men.

“I myself carried a musket, but was so distracted by the tactic that, even though it was primed, I neglected to use it. I advanced the company through fields and over the undulating terrain in good order, having the men in platoons advance several paces to fire, and each platoon then overtaken by the next, so that they fired in turns. We advanced rapidly this way in the opposite direction of the retreat on the road below, and killed or wounded numerous militiamen who would otherwise have pursued our men to inflict more casualties. Appreciating the success of this maneuver, my men were hot for it, and many of them were eager to use the bayonet on wounded militiamen brought down by our fire or from the road, but I forbade it.

“I do believe that many of our troops were spared death or injury from the action because of my company’s valor, and also that of flanking parties sent by the grenadiers and regulars. When we saw the last of our troops on the road retreating, I retired the company in good, unhurried order as well, retracing our steps, and the militiamen kept their distance for respect for our fire. Two of our company perished, and several were injured but were
helped back by their fellows. This action reduced my company from thirty-one to twenty-two effectives.

“I have been commended by Lord Percy for my diligence, bravery and initiative, and he has sent his remarks up to General Gage. I am of two minds of this development, for it may mean that the General will see my true loyalties and allow me to depart for home and Alice; or he may conclude that I am too valuable an officer to let go. In any event, my company is grateful for my leadership, for they have proven their mettle when other officers disparaged their soldiering. From my own purse, I bought them all extra pints of spirits, and ordered extra rations of victuals for them from the commissary soon after we were ferried back to Boston from Charlestown.

“I come now to my main point. One incident during my company’s advance will haunt me all my days, I believe, and I have not related this to anyone else but Alice, whom I wrote yesterday. When we had fired our ninth or tenth volley, the platoons advanced again about twenty paces, loading their pieces as they walked, as I had trained them in Boston. The militiamen we had last fired on had fled their cover of trees and boulders in a thin wood.

“We came upon one of their number, leaning against a tree. There was a gash in his chest, and his coat and shirt were red with blood. One arm, his left, hung inert from his shoulder, though no blood issued from the hole in his coat there. His rifle — not a musket, but one of those hated rifles — had apparently been struck by ball, as well, for the stock had been smashed and severed from the lock. You know the fearsome accuracy of these Pennsylvania rifles, and so very likely that weapon had brought down a dozen of our men on the road. I am not certain if our volley struck him in turn, or one answering from the road. He saw us advance, and I had never seen such a look of defiance in a man’s face, except perhaps on your own, my friend. He sat there, still holding his useless firelock at the ready, as though he would use it.

“My sergeant cursed and raised his musket and made to run the fellow through with his bayonet. ‘You devil’s spawn! You cowardly villain! I’ll teach you to fight proper!’ he growled with a hatred I had not before heard in him. But I restrained him from this pointless action before he could take many steps. And, instead of expressing thanks, the wounded fellow shouted — and it must have cost him strength — ‘You damned bloody-backs! Leave our country!’

“I confess I was startled by his words, but instead of resenting them, I
felt some strange pride and respect for the fellow. I ordered my sergeant to advance the men by platoon again, then took my canteen and bent to offer this Yankee some water. But he made no answering gesture, and at that moment, even though he still stared defiantly at me, I knew he had died. With his last breath, he had fired words at us! How can one pity such a man? Pity is such a cheap, cowardly recompense for bravery!

“As I reached to close his eyes, I felt my own well up with tears. Please credit me with this. I have been in battle, as you know, and seen so many more men die horribly, even needlessly, through incompetence or cowardice, but this was the first time I could not contain my emotion. For a moment, I was oblivious to the roar of Lord Percy’s guns and the musket fire between Smith’s men and the militiamen. Then I rose and wiped my eyes with my sleeve, and followed my company through the woods, and caught up with them.

“The incident will haunt me, my friend, because this defiant Yankee resembled you in his features and demeanor, so much so that he could have passed for your older brother. No! Let me be frank! In that moment, I imagined I was looking at you! It cannot be said that I am a devout man, but I have prayed to Almighty God that this coincidence is not a portent! A war has begun here, one Lord North cannot forestall, he can no longer act as a broker for peace between the colonies and the mother country, but I most earnestly hope that it is not a war between us.”

Hugh sighed and put the letter down on his desk. Oh, Roger, he thought: I wish I had a God to pray to for the same purpose. That is the extent of prayer I am capable of.

H
ugh read the rest of his friend’s letter, only half focused on its contents, which were estimates of British casualties — one hundred and fifty, with seventy-three dead, and more than twenty missing or captured — and speculation on how long the British army would be arrested in Boston, not daring another attack against the Massachusetts militia until reinforcements arrived, which Roger did not expect to see until the next year.

He also confided in his letter that Lord Barrington, the Secretary-at-War, had received and read his report on colonial military strengths, and wrote him a letter of thanks and appreciation. Roger related that the Secretary was of the opinion, based on his report and other intelligence, that an army campaign would be too costly, perhaps even futile, and that the best way to subdue the colonies was with a sea war and a naval blockade of all the port towns. The Secretary also wrote that the Adjunct-General, Edward Harvey, the king’s aide-de-camp, had privately dismissed the land war favored by the king and Lord North “as wild an idea as ever controverted common sense.”

“My friend,” continued Roger, “this is the bleakest spring I have ever known. The troops here, where before they were indifferent to their posting, are now bent on revenge for the Lexington affair. But there are only about four thousand able troops now, and the provincial congress here has approved an army of some thirteen thousand, and appointed a politician and farmer, Artemas Ward, its commander. It has sent appeals to other colonies for volunteers for this army. Our patrols have returned with news that the colonials are truly answering the appeal; bands of armed men have been seen heading from many directions for Cambridge, Ward’s headquarters. Bleak also, is Lord Barrington’s news that the ministry is entertaining the employment of German troops to supplement our own, and, should that expedient be barred, it is even contemplating approaching Empress Catherine of Russia for the loan of her troops…. The talk among officers here is that the ministry is sending some generals to relieve or assist General Gage…. Bells are to be heard ringing in the towns, and today it is not even Sunday…. ”

Hugh put the letter aside, then rose and left his study. Under the blue, late May sky, he took a tour on foot of the fields, where his tenants were busy with the spring plantings of corn, tobacco, and horse oats. On a few acres he was experimenting with English red wheat, to see if it would come up so early in the year, and stopped long enough to inspect the shoots that were pushing up through the soil. He paused at the special shed constructed to house the disassembled conduit, which was being repaired and readied for the summer by his tenants. As he walked, he nodded in answering greeting to the men and women in the fields, and went on, hands clasped behind his back, deep in thought.

One thought kept returning to him: Roger, you are dangerous. Or is it our circumstance that is perilous? Will I ever see you again?
Can
we ever see each other again? And he thought of Reverdy, and the gulf that separated them. Somehow, he thought, the two conflicts were connected. Their commonality eluded him.

He stopped when he tripped slightly on an object. He looked up to see that he had made a complete circuit of the fields, and was standing before the great house. His only thought now was that in two days, he would be absent from it again, attending the next session of the General Assembly.

* * *

The General Assembly that met in Williamsburg on June 1 was a contentious, almost surly gathering of men who, in past times, placed paramount value on decorum and civility. It sat now at the beck and call of a man whom most of its members had come to despise, or at least not trust. It sat because Governor Dunmore wished it to peruse the terms of Lord North’s “Olive Branch” proposals, and then approve of them in the name of loyalty, good will, and peace, so that he could send a report to General Gage, to the Board of Trade, and to the Privy Council as proof of his good governance — and also as a means to reinstate his teetering authority and prestige on more stable grounds.

The majority of burgesses, however, were in no mood to curry the Governor’s favor by doing his bidding, even though, as a body, they expressed courteous concern for the safety of the Governor and his family, regretting that they had sought refuge on the
Fowey
. A few of the burgesses wore hunting shirts, and sported tomahawks tucked into their belts. The House no longer sat in awe of his rank, power, and place. It mechanically observed
all the formalities and rules of the House, and did not worry whether or not the Palace or the Council would approve or veto any of its business. A handful of the burgesses were certain this was the last time this particular Governor would call for a General Assembly.

And a few were certain that this would be the last General Assembly to sit under the aegis of the Crown. Hugh Kenrick was one of those few.

Thomas Jefferson, burgess for Albemarle, preparing to journey to Philadelphia to complete Virginia’s delegation at the Congress, was not. He still held out for “the blessings of liberty and prosperity and the most permanent harmony with Great Britain,” despite the fact that he had been recently informed by Peyton Randolph that, as a consequence of his controversial pamphlet,
A Summary View of the Rights of British America
, he had been named in a bill of attainder passed by Parliament, together with Randolph, John Adams, Samuel Adams, and John Hancock, among others.

During a recess on the second day of the Assembly, Hugh found a few private moments with him over dinner in the Blue Bell Tavern. At one point in their conversation, Hugh remarked, “In fact, Lord Dunmore is deposed. Or, rather, he abdicated his office when he sent his family to the
Fowey
and barricaded himself in the Palace.”

“You would be hard put to convince
him
of that, Mr. Kenrick. And many of our colleagues in the House labor under the delusion that His Excellency is merely misbehaving. The act of contrition present in his address to us on the first day here was meant to convey that impression. Well, my friend,” sighed Jefferson, “no more concerts in the Palace! Not because I don’t think His Excellency has a musical ear — I doubt he has — but because I think I would refuse the chance to play for his patronizing delectation.”

Hugh smiled. “Could you stay long enough to hear them discussed in the House, would you refuse Lord North’s proposals, as well?”

“I will postpone my journey to Philadelphia long enough to speak and vote on the matter,” answered Jefferson. “My cousin the Speaker advises me that Mr. Nicholas and Mr. Wormley may concoct a move for approval. As I have grasped their meaning, yes, I would advocate their rejection. Yet, I still hold out hope for a mutually amicable reconciliation. Otherwise,” mused the tall redhead, his expression darkening, “we are docketed for terrible times…and we are at a disadvantage in all respects.”

“This is true,” agreed Hugh. “But, live free, or die.”

“A succinct and worthy sentiment,” Jefferson said after some thought.
“Did you compose it?”

“No. It was composed by outlaws in England. It is the motto of my county’s volunteer company.”

“By English outlaws, you say?” Jefferson chuckled. “How appropriate! Would that it had been adopted as a standard toast, over ‘Long live the king’!” He frowned sternly. “His Majesty is a traitor, a willing partner to Parliament’s depredations, and not worthy of any well-wishing.”

Hugh smiled again. “That is not the sentiment I read in your
Summary View
, sir. You had a more generous notion of him in it. You appealed to his reason.”

Jefferson shook his head. “My premise that if His Majesty has any reason to address, it is whittled down with each passing day. I can no longer rest sole blame on his counselors and ministers.”

Hugh studied the pensive, freckled face across the table from him for a moment. “Sir, I make this prediction: As Mr. Henry has been called by some the ‘trumpet’ of our cause, some day you shall be called its ‘pen.’”

Jefferson shook his head again. “You bequeath me too much honor, sir.”

“No, I do not. That abundance of honor will become evident when you accept that there can be no reconciliation. Then you will find words grander than those in your
Summary View
.”

Jefferson did not contest the proposition; nor did he deny its possibility. He took a sip of his ale, then asked, “Do you remember the first time we met and talked, outside the Palace, during one of Mr. Fauquier’s concerts? It seems so long ago, in another age! We have both matured, in some respects, but are still as young. I cannot account for the phenomenon, but we are imbued with some constancy. Perhaps it is an ambition to remain unaffected by men and events, to preserve the blameless youth of our souls.” And they talked for a while about matters other than politics.

Peyton Randolph had recently returned from Philadelphia to serve as Speaker. He had been elected president of the Congress in Philadelphia, but resigned that position upon receiving word of the new General Assembly. John Hancock was elected to succeed him. Randolph was not present at the Congress when, on May 29, it voted to send addresses to the inhabitants of Canada, the Floridas, and the British West Indies, asking them to join in the resistance. He would probably have frowned on such an action. He had hastened back to Williamsburg to ensure that Virginia did nothing rash to incur further Crown displeasure. And, he had the contradictory task of
ensuring that Virginia did nothing that would put it at odds with the Congress. At the insistence of some burgesses and Council members, he agreed to put Lord North’s Olive Branch proposals on the agenda for debate at the House’s leisure.

The House worked steadily on desultory matters carried over from the last session, when, in the early hours of June 5, an incident occurred that obviated for a few days concerns for mundane legislative business. Fearing that the Governor would expropriate the arms in the Magazine, as well, several young local men broke into the building, and were greeted by musket fire. The place had been booby-trapped with trip wires leading to spring-guns. Residents awakened by the noise rushed to the Magazine to find the young men injured. It was immediately assumed that the Governor was behind the scheme.

The incident commanded the attention of the House when it convened later that morning. As the members voted to create a committee to investigate the crime, townsmen raided the Magazine and made off with the remaining gunpowder and hundreds of weapons, ostensively to better arm the militia.

After acrimonious exchanges of blame between the House and Dunmore over responsibility for the booby-trap, it was determined that the marines who took the powder in April had rigged the devices. If true, no one doubted on whose order the marines had acted. But officials and the keeper of the Magazine had entered the structure before June 5, and neither encountered nor observed spring-guns. Nor did this observation exonerate the Governor from his suspected responsibility.

On the following Wednesday, after paying Peyton Randolph an evening social call, Governor Dunmore, again resorting to the cloak of darkness while the town was asleep, loaded his family onto carriages, and rode to Yorktown to move in with them aboard the
Fowey
anchored there. The burgesses did not learn of this stealthy action until well into the morning. As the House prepared to send another delegation to the Palace, a messenger appeared with a letter from the Governor advising it that he and his family had removed to the warship out of concern for “the blind and unmeasurable fury” of his subjects. If the House had any business for him, he could be found on the
Fowey
.

Hugh Kenrick merely shrugged at the news, and remarked to another burgess, “It is a singularly appropriate venue for him.”

The Governor’s Palace was, for all practical purposes, now abandoned.
Many of its indentured servants fled through the Palace Park in the rear to Porto Bello, Dunmore’s lodge on the York. Most of his one hundred and fifty slaves vanished. Townsmen thronged to the unguarded Palace and entered it, most for the first time. They were quite astonished with how lavishly their former Governor lived, and with the enormity of his wealth. They also noted that at every door was a stand of muskets, primed and ready to fire — on them, in the event they tried to storm the place. Most of the visitors realized that these preparations were a measure of the Governor’s hostile and condescending regard of them.

Hugh Kenrick joined a group of burgesses who took time out from the House to walk through the Palace. He had many fond memories of the place, and some sour, such as coming here years ago to plead with Lieutenant-Governor Fauquier for Wendel Barret’s printing license.

“Look at all our taxes!” exclaimed one of the burgesses, who had never been invited to the Palace. They were standing in the foyer, looking into the generously stocked pantry. The burgess was pointing to a pile of fine tableware. “Why, that punchbowl, and that tea service there! Why, the price one could fetch for either one could probably keep me, my staff and my servants in stomach and style for a year, at least!”

Hugh smiled in agreement, then said, not managing to suppress the bitter anger in his words, “Do you not all concede that it seems pointless to wait on the Governor on a warship, sirs?” He paused to gesture at the foyer. “Is this not evidence that he has abdicated, and is no longer our Governor? A deposed one, if you will allow it? Is not empty, habitual formality governing the substance and direction of our situation? Why do we continue to pamper him by maintaining the charade?”

Some burgesses grunted noncommittal affirmation to his questions. Others glanced at him sharply with resentment, as though he had scolded them for an oversight they did not care to acknowledge. One burgess braved a petulant reply, “Because he still possesses the Seal of Virginia, sir, and that makes him governor still and it commands our respect and fealty.”

Hugh turned on this man and wagged a finger at him. “That Seal is now an empty symbol, sir! And how do we know that His Excellency has not emulated James the Second, who tossed the Great Seal into the Thames upon his flight from London? How do we know that His Excellency has not tossed our Seal into the York, in a similar demonstration of spite and malice?”