took out the circular letter, and laid it on the table. “It is done, sirs. He had copies made of it.”
Randolph asked, “Will he prorogue the fall Assembly, Mr. Cullis?”
Cullis grimaced. “He did not say, Mr. Randolph. He was very much disturbed by the letter and my arguments.” He paused. “I adhered to your instructions, sir, and pointed out to him the advantage of not calling an Assembly. He seemed to agree, but did not actually say so.”
“I see,” said Randolph. “Well, we must simply wait on his decision.” He reached for the letter and put it into his own portfolio. “What did he say about Mr. Barret and the broadsides?”
“Only that he was conscious of his prerogatives, sir. I do not think he was aware that there was another press in these parts. He seemed truly surprised, and no doubt has by now instructed a clerk to find Governor Dinwiddie’s license. However, I had no hint in word or manner what he may do about it.”
Wythe sighed and remarked, “His excellency is a first-class card player.”
Randolph observed the restrained sour look on Cullis’s features. He said, “At the risk of repeating myself, good sir, you must appreciate why we have resorted to so…sly a method of communicating with the Governor. Itwould seem indecorous for any one of us to urge him to postpone our own Assembly.”
Cullis could not quite suppress the contempt and bitterness in his words. He replied, “I fully appreciate
your
predicament, sir.”
But, it was with a cloying nausea of shame that he later that day rode back to Caxton. He was glad that the road would not take him past Wendel Barret’s shop, nor anywhere near Meum Hall.
* * *
Lieutenant-Governor Fauquier spoke the truth about himself. He was not as wise as others wished him to be. But he was wily. In the next issue of the
Virginia Gazette
, over his signature, there appeared three proclamations. The first read:
“Whereas I find no urgent occasion for the General Assembly to meet in the Fall of this year, I have therefore thought fit, by and with the advice of His Majesty’s Council, by this Proclamation, in His Majesty’s name, to prorogue the Assembly until the first Tuesday of March, 1766.”
The second proclamation dryly announced that the General Court would sit in November. The third proclamation read:
“Whereas the contentions and distemper of these times over recent, troubling actions of His Majesty’s Government are conveyed in so many diverse and provocative forms that endanger the lives of His Majesty’s subjects and the peace of his dominion here, I have thought it fit, by and with the advice of His Majesty’s Council, by this Proclamation, in His Majesty’s name, to suspend temporarily the publication of this Gazette, commencing after its next number, until such time as this His Majesty’s colony is adjudged by me to have returned to a state of harmony and tranquility.”
“We did not ask for
that!
” exclaimed a stunned Peyton Randolph when he read the proclamation.
“How are we to know what goes on elsewhere?” asked a panicked Wythe.
Randolph muttered an inaudible curse and tossed the
Gazette
down on Wythe’s desk. It was a sour victory, as sour as his qualified triumph over the Resolves. Having succeeded in scotching further complicity of Virginia in expressing insolent sentiments and sanctioning the unwarrantable combination that was to take place in New York in October, he, Wythe, and the most responsible House leaders had unintentionally provoked the Lieutenant-Governor to impose a reign of ignorance on the colony. The
Gazette
was the sole official source of news. “It is unprecedented,” he remarked to the room at large.
A thought flitted through his mind that this was, perhaps, a species of tyranny that was being protested. After all, what was the difference between the Lieutenant-Governor’s actions, a prorogation of the right of assembly, on one hand, and his prorogation of the accumulation of
Randolph asked, “Will he prorogue the fall Assembly, Mr. Cullis?”
Cullis grimaced. “He did not say, Mr. Randolph. He was very much disturbed by the letter and my arguments.” He paused. “I adhered to your instructions, sir, and pointed out to him the advantage of not calling an Assembly. He seemed to agree, but did not actually say so.”
“I see,” said Randolph. “Well, we must simply wait on his decision.” He reached for the letter and put it into his own portfolio. “What did he say about Mr. Barret and the broadsides?”
“Only that he was conscious of his prerogatives, sir. I do not think he was aware that there was another press in these parts. He seemed truly surprised, and no doubt has by now instructed a clerk to find Governor Dinwiddie’s license. However, I had no hint in word or manner what he may do about it.”
Wythe sighed and remarked, “His excellency is a first-class card player.”
Randolph observed the restrained sour look on Cullis’s features. He said, “At the risk of repeating myself, good sir, you must appreciate why we have resorted to so…sly a method of communicating with the Governor. Itwould seem indecorous for any one of us to urge him to postpone our own Assembly.”
Cullis could not quite suppress the contempt and bitterness in his words. He replied, “I fully appreciate
your
predicament, sir.”
But, it was with a cloying nausea of shame that he later that day rode back to Caxton. He was glad that the road would not take him past Wendel Barret’s shop, nor anywhere near Meum Hall.
* * *
Lieutenant-Governor Fauquier spoke the truth about himself. He was not as wise as others wished him to be. But he was wily. In the next issue of the
Virginia Gazette
, over his signature, there appeared three proclamations. The first read:
“Whereas I find no urgent occasion for the General Assembly to meet in the Fall of this year, I have therefore thought fit, by and with the advice of His Majesty’s Council, by this Proclamation, in His Majesty’s name, to prorogue the Assembly until the first Tuesday of March, 1766.”
The second proclamation dryly announced that the General Court would sit in November. The third proclamation read:
“Whereas the contentions and distemper of these times over recent, troubling actions of His Majesty’s Government are conveyed in so many diverse and provocative forms that endanger the lives of His Majesty’s subjects and the peace of his dominion here, I have thought it fit, by and with the advice of His Majesty’s Council, by this Proclamation, in His Majesty’s name, to suspend temporarily the publication of this Gazette, commencing after its next number, until such time as this His Majesty’s colony is adjudged by me to have returned to a state of harmony and tranquility.”
“We did not ask for
that!
” exclaimed a stunned Peyton Randolph when he read the proclamation.
“How are we to know what goes on elsewhere?” asked a panicked Wythe.
Randolph muttered an inaudible curse and tossed the
Gazette
down on Wythe’s desk. It was a sour victory, as sour as his qualified triumph over the Resolves. Having succeeded in scotching further complicity of Virginia in expressing insolent sentiments and sanctioning the unwarrantable combination that was to take place in New York in October, he, Wythe, and the most responsible House leaders had unintentionally provoked the Lieutenant-Governor to impose a reign of ignorance on the colony. The
Gazette
was the sole official source of news. “It is unprecedented,” he remarked to the room at large.
A thought flitted through his mind that this was, perhaps, a species of tyranny that was being protested. After all, what was the difference between the Lieutenant-Governor’s actions, a prorogation of the right of assembly, on one hand, and his prorogation of the accumulation of
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