Revolution (24 page)

* * *

Days later, during an afternoon call on Jack Frake at Morland, Hugh reported his private conversation with the Lieutenant-Governor. “He laughed but few times at the theater. I believe that the task of governing a dominion that is in a funk is weighing terribly on him. His loyalty to the Crown clashes with his right reason, paralyzes him, and transforms his soul into mourning blacks.”

Jack smiled with indifference. “Perhaps he knows that he has seen the funeral of Crown authority here.”

Hugh nodded in agreement. “He also knows of our actions here in stopping the stamps.”

“Reverend Acland no doubt wrote him about it.”

“He will certainly not report that incident to the Board of Trade. Those gentlemen would doubtless blame him for not being conscious of a conspiracy to circumvent his power.”

They talked of the coming concert at Enderly. Hugh had driven Reverdy to Vishonn’s place and left her there to rehearse with Etáin, James Vishonn, and the Kenny brothers. “They are planning a special program, and Reverdy won’t enlighten me about certain parts of it.”

“Neither will Etáin tell me,” said Jack with a chuckle.

“Reverdy says that she and Etáin have planned a special piece to perform in my honor. I wonder what it could be.”

Jack laughed again. “Etáin claims they are plotting the same for me. I can’t imagine what.”

* * *

W
hen Hugh and Reverdy returned to Meum Hall later that week, they learned that the family merchantman, the
Busy
, had called on Caxton, and then departed for West Point upriver to unship cargo there. Hugh found a packet of letters and a passel of small boxes of household goods he had ordered from his father months ago. One of the letters was from Dogmael Jones, dated mid-October. One evening, shortly after their return, as a light snow fell on the fields beyond in the gathering dusk outside, Hugh read it to Reverdy and James Brune during a late tea in the supper room. His new wife and her brother had expressed curiosity about the man.

“My dear friend:

“The other day I supped with some like-minded members of the House, and in the course of our table talk, one of us employed the epithet ‘the good old cause.’ I confess that I shuddered when it at last passed through my ears and found a contemplative perch on my pate, allowing me to ruminate on its meaning. The Good Old Cause, indeed! As an epithet for the cause of liberty against tyranny, implying in it the legality of armed resistance against tyrants, I wonder anymore that it is even remembered, never mind revered in that vague, dreamlike manner with which people oft recall it, as though liberty were something, they knew not what, slipping inexorably from their grip, they knew not how or why. Well, the cause of liberty is ever fresh, never old, so long as one man, or group of men, possesses an arbitrary power over other men, that power being tyranny or legislative theft.

“But I must report another memorable supper a few days before, with Dr. Benjamin Franklin and his friend Mr. Richard Jackson, the member for Weymouth and Melcombe Regis, and agent for Massachusetts and Connecticut. Other friends of liberty were also present, including Mr. Richard Price, member for Beaumaris, a voluble opponent of the Stamp Act. My circle of friends and associates in and out of the House grows monthly, so much so that I have informally dubbed it my own Sons of Liberty!

“Dr. Franklin on this occasion was kind enough to describe for the company a plan of union that he and some of his friends proposed to the Albany Congress some years ago, and which that congress of delegates from seven colonies agreed was a good plan, but which their legislatures rebuffed (as did our own wise men). Dr. Franklin is as newly aware of the disturbances in the colonies as are Lord Rocking-horse and the Board of Trade, and asserts that had his plan of union been adopted by the legislatures and by the Crown, all the recent dangerous fuss could have been avoided. He is for empire, my friend, but his notion of it presumes a penchant for reason and justice, allied with an absence of avarice on the part of Parliament and the Board. His notion of it conflicts, naturally, with that of our debtors and special interests here, who are determined to oblige the colonies to pay for the security of their own servitude.

“Dr. Franklin is right about many things, but I fear that in this instance he is off the mark. And I believe that he now realizes that the Stamp Act has forged an altogether different form of union among your adopted countrymen. Why, he even related to me a discussion he had with Justice Pratt, in which the latter opined that once the French had been removed from Canada and North America, the colonies would set their caps for independence. The die is cast, he said to us with some sadness, for Mr. Henry’s Resolves from last May — which he agreed with in principle but disapproved of as impolitic and provocative — have set in motion a great machine of logic from which there is no escape. Dr. Franklin’s loyalties are with his countrymen, and he confided over supper that he plans a Roman campaign of letters in the newspapers for at least a lessening of the Crown’s grip on the colonies.’”

James Brune frowned. “A
Roman
campaign?” he queried. “What the devil is that?”

Hugh answered, “He will sign his letters with ancient Roman names, ones that are famously associated with eloquence and liberty.”

The frown did not leave James Brune’s countenance. “That seems a cowardly ruse,” he commented.

This time Hugh frowned. “Or prudent,” he said. “I understand that Dr. Franklin is not altogether welcome in London, and is merely tolerated there, because his business lends itself to the Crown’s purposes, which is chiefly to pester the government to convert Pennsylvania from a proprietary to a royal colony. Otherwise, the Grand Caliphs there would not deign to give him the time of day.” He paused, then added with a tinge of anger
and impatience, directing his words to James Brune alone, “I had a group of friends who employed aliases and
noms de plume
in order to freely speak their minds, but they were persecuted nonetheless.”

“Oh,” said James Brune, with contrite recollection. “Those Pippin fellows.”

“Yes, those Pippin fellows,” replied Hugh. He gently snapped the page he was reading from, and continued to read Jones’s letter.

“But on to perhaps more important news. I was fortunate to procure from two assiduous members of my stable of agents duplicate copies of an extraordinary document written by Massachusetts governor Francis Bernard, penned by him before the Stamp Act was debated in the House, and while Mr. Grenville was putting on a show of soliciting the opinions of colonial governments about the practicality of a stamp impost. It is entitled
Principles of Law and Polity, Applied to the Government of the British Colonies in North America.
In it, Mr. Bernard very laboriously but thoroughly offers ninety-seven propositions for reforming the colonies.

“Among them are these: Parliamentary representation for the colonies; but, before that gift is bestowed, a complete reorganization of the colonies, viz., the rewriting of all the charters to correct any contentious vagaries and ambiguities; the abandonment of all elective governorships, replacing them with royally appointed ones in every instance; the establishment of an upper house in each colony, composed exclusively of royally appointed permanent members, and therewith a privileged American nobility, much like the Lords here; and a universal recognition of Parliamentary supremacy by all parties in all matters. All to guarantee revenue and obedience to the Crown.

“What is ironic about this document is that it was authored by a chap who protests his sympathies for the colonials and their special problems. It is a pretty ship of state that Mr. Bernard proposes be constructed in the Westminster dockyards, and it might have been taken seriously and perhaps even launched with trumpets and royal blessings in the most gracious and magnanimous manner, had not the Stamp Act sent it to the bottom before it even left paper. It contains many infeasibilities, but I shall dwell on only one, that of colonial representation.

“This act of generosity would be a Greek gift, because you must concede that, even were seats granted to the colonies, and whether or not the North American colonies were reformed from thirteen to ten, as Mr. Bernard proposes, the gentlemen who occupied them would be outnumbered
and outfoxed at every turn by as many blocs and parties within the House and ministry as there are keels riding the tide in the Pool of London, all determined to wring blood from colonial stones. Doubtless such political alchemy can be performed, but, as you know, popular magic shows depend on the credulity of a mob for their sustenance and on the peculiar vice of the credulous to believe in and be entertained by such temporal miracles and sleights of hand.

“That dire raree show, however, presupposes that the colonial members of the House would be somehow above the temptations of subornation and chicanery, for they would no sooner take their seats than they would be approached by the recruiting sergeants of those numberless blocs and parties, and they would need the constitution and character of sainted martyrs to rebuff such overtures and stay steady on a course that was nevertheless doomed to disappointment. Need I say that staying that course would incur the merciless punishment of ostracism? I own I am at a loss to decide which wrath is worse: that of a woman scorned, or of a conniving politician who has been shown one’s back.”

James Brune interrupted again. “This friend of yours likes to hear himself talk, Hugh,” he remarked with disapproval.

“Perhaps,” said Hugh. “He is a barrister and a member of the House. Talking is his epée in the law and legislation lists. He must convince himself of the efficacy of his words and thoughts before he will employ them to skewer his opponents or persuade his auditors.”

James Brune shook his head. “Maybe. But he seems to be contemptuous of politics. He nearly reeks of sedition, the way he talks. And then, he employs spies to gather information that I am certain is not meant to be shared so freely and publicly.”

Hugh smiled. “There is hardly a member in London who does not engage in the judicious purloining of Crown confidences. Some members are more successful at it than others.” He sighed. “And you are right that he is contemptuous. But that is a state easily reached when one has observed, as he has in the Commons — and as I have in Williamsburg — that many politicians refuse to think, or regard reasoned thought as an enemy, or have made careers of deceit and complacency.”

Reverdy spoke up and chided her brother. “James, please don’t interrupt. I am enjoying listening to this man’s letter.”

James Brune shrugged and sighed in concession. “I beg your pardon, Hugh, but I own I was not aware that so much dissension existed in any
quarter of England.”

Hugh nodded in thanks to his wife, then said to her brother, “The dissension that exists there is proportionately smaller than that which exists here. It is my hope that it grows greater. A general opposition to Parliament’s and the King’s policies, both here and in London, may prove to be our only salvation and means of redressing the costly abuse heaped upon us.” Then he glanced through the rest of the letter. “Fortunately for you, James, there is not much more here to read that you might find disagreeable, except some personal matters I do not think Mr. Jones meant to be shared freely and publicly.” He folded the letter and put it aside.

“Mr. Jones sounds like a very interesting man,” said Reverdy. “I don’t wonder he is a friend of yours and your father. I should like to meet him, if we ever travel to London.”

“You shall,” said Hugh.

“Sounds like a dangerous and recalcitrant fellow to me,” remarked James Brune lightly.

Hugh smiled. “Dangerous? To whom? Besides, that kind of fellow is the best friend to have.”

“Like your friend, Mr. Frake?” queried Reverdy.

“Like Mr. Frake, especially,” said Hugh.

They talked next of James Brune’s planned departure. The captain of the
Busy
had left word for Hugh that he would return from West Point in two weeks, and after taking on new cargo in Caxton and Yorktown — much of it hogsheads of tobacco and other crops from Meum Hall, Morland, and other plantations in Queen Anne County — would call next on Philadelphia, and finally on New York before setting sail for England. James Brune had decided to find passage on the
Busy
and continue his tour after Twelfth Night. Hugh described the two cities to him, and gave him advice on what to see and do in them.

“Hugh and I will write letters to our families for you to deliver, James,” said Reverdy. “They will be duplicates of ones we shall send on the mail packet from Hampton. Perhaps you will arrive home before the packet.”

James Brune smiled. “Our parents will be surprised with the news of your marriage,” he said to her. Then the smile disappeared. “But not altogether pleased. If I recollect correctly, there was quite a row about the pairing of you two before Hugh left Danvers.” After a pause, he added, “And, Hugh, I won’t essay a prediction of how your parents will receive the news.”

Hugh grinned. “They will be surprised, as well. And pleased.”

Reverdy said, “James, it is done. Our parents must reconcile themselves to it.”

Her brother shook his head in amusement. “More likely would be a reconciliation between King Frederick of Prussia and the Bourbons.”

“James,” said Reverdy, “you must arrange to have my things sent from home, and from my London residence, as well.”

“Yes,” said Hugh. “Speak with my father, who can arrange to have her things put on the
Ariadne
or the
Sparrowhawk
if one of them is handy. Mr. Worley will see that they are securely loaded.”

James Brune nodded. “I will attend to it immediately upon arrival, but only after Mother Brune has boxed my ears and demanded to know why I did not oppose or foil the marriage!”

His sister smiled in sympathy with him, but said, “You could not have opposed or foiled the marriage, James. And Mother must take some consolation that Hugh and I were married by no less a personage than the governor of Virginia.”

James Brune chuckled again. “I will suggest that to her, Reverdy, but she will likely answer that his honor the governor should have instead clapped Hugh in irons and incarcerated him in the town jail.”

Reverdy grinned, then glanced at Hugh. “I should like to see anyone try to put my husband in irons and confine him to a bed of straw. The moon will rain honey before that is ever likely to happen.”

She rose then and went to a window, and saw the thin coating of white on the bushes outside. “Oh! Look at the snow!” she exclaimed. “It is going to be a pretty Christmas! I hope it lasts at least until the concert at Enderly!”

“Perhaps it will not,” said Hugh. “Snow melts fairly quickly here, when one sees it at all.”

Later in the evening, when James Brune retired to his room, Hugh took Reverdy to his study and pried open one of the small boxes that Spears had brought in from the
Busy
. After he removed the excelsior and some magazines and newspapers used as packing near the top, he invited his wife to look inside.

Reverdy glanced down, and gasped. She saw sitting in a nest of wadding a mound of gold, silver and copper coins. She looked at Hugh. “I don’t understand.”

“It is nearly illegal to pay colonials in specie for what they send to England,”
he explained to her. “Most of what I export is consigned to Mr. Worley at Lion Key in the Pool. You know he is my father’s agent. I demanded from the beginning that I should be paid this way, not in credit or drawbacks or paper promises.” He paused. “This is why Meum Hall is a success, Reverdy.” He smiled. “
My
debts are short-lived.”