The day’s assignment called for a lengthy reading from a treatise on the subject of torts. Compared to property law, Camden found this topic to be considerably more interesting. In fact, he was engrossed in the facts of a case involving a duck pond and a neighbor firing off his muskets. He was just reading the line from Chief Justice Holt--“in short, that which is the true reason for this action is not brought to recover damage for the loss of the fowl, but for the disturbance”-- when a knock came at the front door. Both Mary and Mr. Randolph were away, so he set down his book and went to answer it.
Opening the door, he was met by a messenger boy who offered him two letters along with an open hand for a gratuity. Camden fished for a coin in his pocket and finding a couple pennies, dropped them in the boy’s hand.
“Thank you, sir!”
Camden found it remarkable that the boy would be so grateful for such a small favor, but then considered how he would have felt at that age. Money was scarce in farm country, so he probably would have considered it an even greater boon.
Back inside he noticed that one of the letters was addressed to Mr. Randolph and the other to him, both seeming to bear the same handwriting. He left the former on the desk in Mr. Randolph’s study and returned to the sitting room and his books to open the latter.
The outside of the envelope bore a plain sort of script that read merely “Mr. Camden Page.” He sat back in his chair and opened the letter.
<blockquote>
Dear Mr. Page,
I have received the letter you somewhat recently delivered to my home. Please understand that I cannot grant your request, nor do I foresee any circumstances under which I would be inclined to change my mind, your apprenticeship to Mr. Randolph notwithstanding. Be assured, however, that I wish you only the best in your pursuit of the study of law. I am, sir, respectfully yours,
Senator James Burwell
</blockquote>
Camden read the letter a second time, just to be sure he understood. When it was clear that he had understood it perfectly the first time, he could do nothing but sit and stare, as if the words on the page would change or disappear if he held his gaze for long enough. Eventually, however, he let the letter fall from his hand onto the floor.
He was not sure how long he sat there, head in his hands, before he heard Mary come in the front door. As she passed the sitting room, she cheerfully asked “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Page?”
“No, thank you,” he managed to get out, fearing that his voice would waver and give away his grief.
“Well, I’ll be getting dinner ready, then. Mr. Randolph should be along shortly.” She shuffled toward the back of the house and Camden was once again left with his thoughts.
Reaching down for the letter, he picked it up between two fingers, but then crumpled it into a ball, which he tossed into the fire. He had no idea how he could possibly go back to his studies after this. He could not begin to imagine reciting cases to Mr. Randolph later today. Perhaps he would feign illness and ask to be excused. Whatever else the day might bring, he did not think he could bear to face it. To have the extraordinary Ms. Burwell introduced to his life and then forever taken away only a few short weeks later, was a devastating blow. In the back of his mind, he supposed that he should not have been so crushed; he knew the young woman barely at all. He had always considered himself to be level-headed and reasonable, not so prone to swings of passion as others. Perhaps he had been wrong about that.
As he seated himself in the chair on the near side of Mr. Randolph’s desk, he secretly hoped that the duck pond case would be the first one he was asked about. At least he thought he could mostly recall the facts and the legal reasoning of that one.
Instead, Mr. Randolph said, “I’ve received a letter today that concerns you.” He held up the other letter that the boy had delivered earlier the same day. Camden’s heart sank.
“It comes from my brother in law’s desk, but judging by the look on your face I gather that you already deduced as much. The letter reiterates much of what was said in the similar missive that you received earlier today, but this one adds instructions for me as well. My niece, it says, is no longer permitted to visit this house while you are present.”
Camden felt sick, but remained silent. Now not only was his personal desire to see Ms. Burwell doomed, but he would be the reason that uncle and niece would have to pick and choose their meetings. He hung his head, but only for a moment. He was still getting to know Mr. Randolph, but he already knew enough of the man that disappointing him or bringing any shame on his reputation was the last thing Camden wanted to do.
Mr. Randolph lay the letter aside and let out a short sigh.
“You don’t hide it quite so well as you might like, you know,” Mr. Randolph offered in a tone more fatherly than professional. “Mr. Page, although you might find it hard to believe, I too was once a young man. I hope you will understand how it is that you acted rashly in this instance. Affairs of the heart are, well . . .” Here Mr. Randolph trailed off and turned in his chair to stare into the embers in the fireplace. Reaching for the poker he stoked the coals and rearranged the logs until the flame caught again.
“Mr. Randolph, I apologize. I never thought that--”
“No need, my boy. The social etiquette in households such as my brother in law’s does not often make sense to those of different backgrounds. I’m not convinced that many of their rules and customs have much sense to them at all. Nevertheless, let this be a lesson for you: always proceed with caution.”
Camden nodded in solemn agreement.
Mr. Randolph drew in a deep breath before continuing. “I know, of course, that a lesson in social niceties seems irrelevant at the moment. I doubt you will receive a future letter expressing that my brother in law has changed his mind, but I can’t say that I blame you for making this particular mistake. Perhaps I should have been more direct with you when my niece was here that first day.”
Mr. Randolph leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if to prevent someone from hearing, although only the two of them and Mary were in the house.
“You are quite right, of course, to notice that Georgiana is an exceptional young woman. Whatever she may lack in beauty--and that is not much--she more than accounts for with her superior intellect and her quick wit. But perhaps I need not remind you of her wit, eh?”
In spite of himself, Camden smiled at that.
“Aside from all of those qualities, she is a devoted daughter and a devout follower of Christ who will some day, I have no doubt, be for someone an excellent wife. The man with whom God unites her in marriage will count himself among the most fortunate men to have ever walked the earth.”
Mr. Randolph paused again and rubbed his temples.
“But I suppose my singing her praises can only make matters worse for you right now. Then let me end by saying only this: my niece deserves to be married to a man who is her equal in every respect. You and I are only just becoming acquainted with one another, Mr. Page, but even from the short time I have known you, there is very little doubt in my mind that you certainly could be such a man. Even if it is never to be, content yourself with the fact that to be accounted a man worthy of such a young woman as Georgiana is, in itself, quite an achievement.”
“Thank you, Mr. Randolph.” Camden searched for the words, but could manage only another “Thank you.”
“If I’m not mistaken, I believe Mary might be finished with dinner. I suppose we may safely postpone the rest of your reading until tomorrow. Come. Let’s eat.”
The Bloudy Tenent, which Mr. Randolph had given him earlier that week. It was certainly a departure from his other reading, but the ideas in it were so fundamental, he thought, that they could not be entirely divorced from everything else that he was studying.
When a knock came at the door early one afternoon, he found that he was actually a little annoyed by the distraction that pulled him away from his reading. However, when he discovered the reason for the disturbance, his annoyance abated. Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe had arrived together, presumably to speak with Mr. Randolph on the same topic as their previous meeting.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
“Mr. Page, will you please join us in the study?” came the call from Mr. Randolph after a minute or two. Camden marked his place and joined the three men in the other room.
Taking his seat next to Mr. Randolph, his mentor said “Mr. Page, Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe have just informed me that the General Assembly has asked Mr. Monroe to replace Dr. McClurg at the convention in Philadelphia. He has told me that he will agree to accept the appointment, but only if I fulfill two conditions.”
Camden stole a glance at Mr. Monroe and Mr. Henry, but their expressions gave away nothing.
“First, he requires that I allow him the use of a number of books from my library, books to which he believes he will want to refer during the course of the convention. Naturally, I agreed to that condition without hesitation.”
Here, Mr. Randolph paused momentarily. “The second thing he asks is that you accompany him to Philadelphia as his assistant. What do you say to that?”
Camden tried to collect his thoughts. The convention in Philadelphia would certainly be an important event in the history of the new country. But what of his apprenticeship? And if ever there was a chance for his blunder respecting Miss Burwell to be repaired, it certainly could not be done from hundreds of miles away.
He quickly settled on, “It sounds like a unique opportunity. I am humbled that Mr. Monroe would consider me for such an important undertaking. Would my apprenticeship not be affected, however?”
“That has already been worked out, pending only your agreement to go with Mr. Monroe. A former partner of mine who now resides in Philadelphia, Mr. Hiram Johnson, would be more than happy to supervise your readings.”
Camden nodded his head, acknowledging Mr. Randolph’s reassurances more than agreeing with them. While his absence from Richmond might prove a barrier to his somehow undoing the damage he had done himself with Senator Burwell, the distance might also prove to free him of the mental distractions that had plagued his studies since that day.
“Then I would be honored to help Mr. Monroe in whatever way I can.”
“Marvelous! I assured both of you that he would agree, did I not?”
Monroe and Henry both rose and Monroe extended his hand to Camden. They shook and Monroe said, “Mr. Randolph has had nothing but good things to say about you. I am confident that you will prove adequate to every task.”
Mr. Henry then offered his own words. “I think, young man, that your assistance to Mr. Monroe may prove to be one of the hinges upon which the history of our nation turns. Whether the convention strengthens our confederation or remakes it into something else hangs in the balance. It may only take a handful of men to tip it one way or the other. Your assistance may prove to be the factor that makes Mr. Monroe one such man.”
Camden could see clearly now why Mr. Henry had come to be so influential in Virginia. He was given to eloquence and clearly had a flair for the dramatic, but his lofty words still seemed out of place in this instance. True, the convention could prove to be a very important event in the history of the American states, but that was by no means clear to Camden. In any event, he was sure that his role--a mere assistant to a delegate who was selected only as a last-minute replacement--was surely numbered among the most insignificant pieces that would make up the proceedings in Philadelphia.
Despite any misgivings he might have had, however, Camden responded “That is very kind of you to say, Mr. Henry. I count the confidence of both you and Mr. Monroe as a tremendous encouragement.”
Later that evening, Mr. Randolph invited Camden into his study once more. Mr. Randolph made note of the fact that Camden had long since passed the point of needing to be directed where to sit when called in. He set down his pipe and asked “What are your true thoughts about attending the convention with Mr. Monroe?”
“I’m very grateful for the opportunity, just as I said.” Camden shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the question, but not sure why.
“Yes, Mr. Page. I know what you said earlier today. But in addition to your words, I remember what your face and your tone of voice betrayed.” Picking up his pipe, Mr. Randolph took several puffs before continuing. The smell of pipe tobacco reminded Camden of late summer evenings sitting on his uncle’s porch, where he would read--often out loud to the rest of the family, but more often to himself. Here, the aroma seemed to soften the edges of Mr. Randolph’s observation.
“You are not merely unsure of your role at the convention and whether it is really essential to Mr. Monroe that you be there with him. You also have your misgivings about how Mr. Henry sees the convention and whether you should be a party to Mr. Monroe’s voicing those ideas in Philadelphia, do you not?”
Camden knew that his mentor must come down on the side of Mr. Henry--now Mr. Monroe’s side as well. Yet he hesitated to contradict him. He could see, however, that Mr. Randolph could read people--and Camden especially--like an open book. It would do no good to avoid the issue.
“If I may be forthright, sir--”
“That is exactly what I expect from you, Mr. Page. To be forthright and wrong allows for correction or at least a better understanding of the disagreement. To conceal your ideas for fear of offending me accomplishes nothing for either of us. Please proceed.”
“Then yes, I do have reservations about some of the things that you and Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe have been saying. It seems to me that those who say that we need a general government with more energy and vigor have the better of the argument. The course of history shows rather clearly, I think, that no weak confederation has ever become a great nation, the kind of great nation that ours could become if given the chance.”
Mr. Randolph took his pipe from his mouth just long enough to say “Go on.”
“For instance, Congress is at the mercy of the individual states who can choose either to give or withhold their requisitions. Thus, Congress can do nothing without the unanimous agreement of all thirteen states. Which is to say that Congress can very often do nothing at all on issues that are of great importance. In addition to thwarting Congress, this requirement of unanimous agreement allows one state to thwart each other state as well as all of the other states acting together. Congress then can act only as a sort of diplomatic assembly and not truly as a legislature for the confederation of states.”
“I see,” began Mr. Randolph. He set down his pipe and leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. This was a sure sign, Camden had learned, that he was on the verge of launching into one of his cross examinations. It was the same whether Camden observed him in court or here in the office when he was reciting one of the cases he had been assigned to read. “Do you not also think, Mr. Page, that it is a problem that there is no uniform, national trade policy? And if there is no single trade policy what should prevent Maryland from imposing duties on goods that need only to cross the Potomac from Virginia? Why, one state can lower its tariffs almost to nothing and thereby siphon foreign trade away from the others. When some states intend only to give some modest measure of protection to their own commercial interests, should Congress really be left powerless to act on behalf of the general welfare?”
Camden tended to agree with Mr. Randolph on this point. At the same time, he had already discovered that a favorite tactic of Mr. Randolph’s was to make the best argument in favor of his opponent’s position so that he could demolish that same argument with the next breath. Although Camden was fairly certain that he was being lured into a trap, his response spilled out nonetheless: “Yes, I think that does, indeed, represent one of the other pressing issues we face that must be addressed in Philadelphia.”
“Hmm. I see.” Mr. Randolph picked up his pipe and sat back in his chair, as if he were collecting his thoughts. “So then you would agree that the citizens of the Commonwealth of Virginia should pay more if they choose to purchase goods from abroad so that someone in Massachusetts or Connecticut can fetch a higher price for his own products? Is that not the logical conclusion of a national trade policy that would impose a high tariff on imports?”
“Well, certainly it must be admitted that the unfavorable balance of trade has drained the nation of its specie and given the states a supposed license to emit all manner of paper money. Must not something be done about that?”
“On the contrary, that has it precisely backwards. The widespread use of paper money is, indeed, a harmful practice. However, it is the use of paper money that has driven our metals out of the country and not the reverse as you suggest. The commercial concerns that may have thrived during the war when foreign goods were unavailable would have us continue a policy that favors them--including propping their interests up with paper--but this we must not do. There may be pain for some before the supply of money has the chance to right itself, but be assured that it will right itself if left alone. Granting a national government ultimate control over our money can only make matters worse in the long run.”
Camden opened his mouth as if to answer, but could think of nothing to say. Mr. Randolph continued.
“It is true that Congress is, in many instances, reduced to the role of diplomatic assembly. It is likewise true there are many instances in which Congress is constrained from acting because it lacks the unanimous consent of the states. Is that not precisely as it should be when the parties represented in Congress are thirteen sovereign states? What need have we Americans to talk of becoming a ‘great nation’? Britain remains a great nation, but one with which we parted ways. Is it not enough for us to be a free nation? What worthy thing can ‘greatness’ promise us that independence has not already provided?”
Mr. Randolph paused again. Camden was beginning to see why he and Mr. Henry found in each other a friend. He took his pipe back up and smoked for perhaps a full minute before speaking again.
“I apologize for the lecture, Mr. Page. As you can tell, Mr. Henry and I share the passionate desire that the freedom and independence that was bought at such a heavy price not be surrendered. If our liberties are lost, it is more likely that they will be stolen away piece by piece than that a tyrant will arise from nowhere to wrest them away from us in a single blow.”
“Perhaps you are right. Nevertheless, it seems clear that a failure to give at least some small amount of power to the general government eventually but surely will lead to anarchy. Is even that concern unreasonable?”
“No, I cannot say that it is unreasonable. In fact, I have no doubt that that way of thinking comes naturally to man. I would only suggest that you think about the extent to which that logic can and should be applied.”
Camden rubbed his face with both hands and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Randolph, but I am not sure that I understand your meaning.”
“You worry that the lack of a powerful national government may lead to anarchy in America. Do you suppose that the present lack of a world monarchy has yielded anarchy the world over?”
“No, I suppose not. I had not thought of it that way before, but it still seems that--”
“It seems that there is a difference, yes. You see the principle and the logic, however. That is all that concerns me. I did not arrive at my present political philosophy without time for contemplation and reflection. I can make no demands on your conscience, but can only urge you to think carefully and to think thoroughly about all of these things.”
“That, Mr. Randolph, is something I promise to do."