The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [176]
“Forgive me, sir, I did not know about the pork. That is most tragic, sir. I brought you . . . this. The message arrived a short time ago. It was not sealed, and I persuaded Mr. Hamilton that I should examine it in your absence. Forgive the indiscretion, sir.”
Washington saw a paper in the young man’s hand, reached out, the automatic response, held the paper in his hand for a long moment.
“Is this . . . bad news, Mr. Lafayette?”
“It is unfortunate, sir.”
He unfolded the paper, was surprised to see the name of Patrick Henry. He tried to focus his eyes on the man’s writing, saw it was merely an introduction, Henry forwarding some other letter to Washington’s hand. He read for a moment, said, “It seems my friend Mr. Henry has been the recipient of another of these anonymous essays which are circulating around the congress. He has enclosed it . . . oh, well, I misspoke. This one is not so anonymous after all. There is no signature, but I recognize the handwriting. This is from the hand of my friend, Dr. Rush.” He held the letter up, caught the light from the window, began to read, felt the words knotting up deep inside of him, a chill rising in his chest.
“Dr. Rush clearly believes that the cause of our country’s woes can be placed firmly at my feet.”
Lafayette said, “It is outrageous, sir! He does not even sign his name! What manner of cowardice is this?”
Washington continued to read, and he made a small sound, the words cutting into him,
But is our case desperate? By no means. We have wisdom, virtue and strength enough to save us if they should be called into action. The northern army has shown us what Americans are capable of doing with a GENERAL at their head. The spirit of the southern army is no ways inferior to the spirit of the northern. A Gates, a Lee, or a Conway would in a few weeks render them an irresistible body of men . . .
He lowered the paper.
“Dr. Rush has joined that ever-growing cabal who champion those men who believe themselves more capable of commanding this army. This is disappointing, Mr. Lafayette. But not so much as to incite your anger.”
“I must disagree, sir! Conway? This is surely a product of his indiscreet blathering to congress. The man has inspired nothing short of an insurrection against your command, and, of course, he has found a willing partner in the ambitions of General Gates!”
Thomas Conway was an Irishman who had come to the army from France, another in the long line of puffed-up martinets, generally despised by everyone at headquarters. But Conway had gone a step further than so many of those who simply displayed their medals. He had taken his campaign to congress with unceasing energy, had been open and aggressive about his own qualifications for command. Congress had tried to appease the man by granting him a major general’s rank, with the position of “inspector general.” As such, he would not answer to Washington, but directly to the congressional Board of War. It was an absurd arrangement, and could not disguise the growing dissatisfaction with Washington’s power. When Conway had presented himself at headquarters, Washington had essentially ignored him, but Conway would not go away quietly. The man’s words came back to him now, Conway’s own letter, an astounding comment to Gates that had come to Washington’s hand:
Heaven has been determined to save your country; or a weak general and bad counselors would have ruined it . . .
Washington folded Henry’s letter, slipped it into his coat.
“Thank you, Mr. Lafayette.”
He moved to his chair, put a hand on the back of his tall desk, stood quietly for a moment. Lafayette said, “Sir, how will you respond to this? This is outrageous! These men are clearly advancing their efforts to undermine your command!”
Washington stared toward the window, his mind a soft blur, his thoughts as bleak as the white ground