The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [200]
32. HOWE
PHILADELPHIA, APRIL 1778
THE PLAY WAS HENRY IV, PART ONE, AND HE HAD WHISKED HIS MISTRESS through the hall in a flurry of color, her gown swirling around them in a grand display that was meant only for her. He knew she enjoyed the attention, seemed oblivious to the stares and low comments. He paid little attention to the response from the other officers, and even less to their disapproving wives. Those voices were faint enough as it was, muted by the overwhelming number of officers whose arms were draped by mistresses of their own. Many were a product of the hospitality of Philadelphia, some had come from England. By now, any mention of scandal was nearly rehearsed, simply a part of the show, of each evening’s entertainment. It had become the dreary routine, the long winter evenings punctuated by whatever form of gala could be arranged. The effort came primarily from Major John André, a man who seemed adapted to life in the center of a social whirlwind. André had organized the theater company, was usually its star actor, a man clearly at home in front of an adoring audience, especially an audience of so many women. He was the perfect man to lighten the dark mood of winter, to fill the calendar with every manner of ball and celebration, plays and performances by anyone who might break the monotony of winter quarters. The manic social scene had been a delight to Howe, for a while. But the plays were becoming redundant, only so many roles for André to master, only so many times Howe could sit through yet another performance of Shakespeare. Tonight had been a particular chore, and despite the delight of Mrs. Loring’s parade through the crowd, Howe had finally conceded, he had absorbed as much of Philadelphia as he could. He was bored to death.
The daylight hours were passed by the occasional drill, some meaningless march by some regiment through the streets, the unnecessary reminder of their presence to a civilian population who were increasingly hostile to the army in their midst. There was little of Philadelphia that reminded any of its citizens of what once was, not even to the most basic functions of government. The British had swept aside any municipal position, from police to street cleaning, all administration now a part of the army’s duty. The city was, after all, a fortress, the home to a British force that numbered nineteen thousand men. There was no place in the daily routine for the concern of private citizens, while the army’s needs were so great. The result was a city that was falling slowly into ruin. Howe avoided the unpleasantness of the filthy streets, kept himself behind closed doors of the mansion that was his headquarters. As the snow had melted, the smells had emerged, and he avoided the inquiries that came even from his own generals. From civilian and soldier came the protests for how the sanitary concerns could have been ignored, and what might be done now that the spring thaw was certain to ripen the sewers even more. The civilians were actually becoming organized in their protests, and he had deflected the outcry from some annoying committee by simply blaming the Hessians. He had sent an official complaint to General Knyphausen, pointing out the unfortunate habit of