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June 1783
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
John Andre had been born in London to French Huguenots. He grew up fluent in four languages, a charismatic individual good at poetry and comic verse, the paintbrush and the flute. As he grew the glamour and glory of military life appealed to him, but being a relatively poor merchant there was no hope of promotion in the eighteenth century Royal Army. When his father died he took over the family counting house. Andre fell in love, but the price of his lady's hand was growing rich and while waiting her passions cooled. Despondent, Andre joined the army in 1772 upon hearing of trouble in America.
Andre was captured during General Washington's campaign for control of northern New York and stayed as prisoner of war until Heyward ended the fighting in mid-1773. He wrote a long, insightful essay on colonial life and, more importantly, the American army. This secured him a promotion and the interest of the Colonial Office who in time slipped him into his current position as the senior Congressional delegate from New Hampshire.
Captain Andre
So far so good, except Andre's primary mission, ending the second British-American war, was long over and still the Colonial and Foreign Offices wouldn't let him disappear. Having a man inside the American parliament seemed to amuse them, and there had been more than one hint that attempts to resign would be ... unpleasant. He felt trapped. He dreaded being discovered, and he took little pleasure in these attempts to shake up American government. In his book they'd won fair and square, and it was time for everyone to put away their toys, take a few deep breaths, and try to find a way to work together. British honor and prestige had been damaged, true, but how vindictive to continue this clandestine battle after the fact.
Andre pondered this as he entered Stark's Hostel and looked around the common room, dim despite the afternoon sun shining through half-shuttered windows. His home for the last year and a half was only a short walk from Independence Hall, and the friendly, casual conversations flowing about him from sailors and merchants were a welcome relief after a day's debate.
"Why Mister Andrews! It's about time! Your usual table?" Mistress Stark was a fat woman in her forties a little more interested in her clients than Christian ethic might tolerate.
"Yes," Andre nodded tiredly. "And whatever's available. I'm not choosy tonight."
Whatever was available turned out to be a watery, bitter 'something' from outside Trenton but Andre didn't complain. He held up the drink, managed a smile that made Stark's heart pound, and downed half the mug in a gulp.
She left, and Andre continued to drink gratefully. It might be swill, but politics left him feeling thirsty and somewhat dirty. He closed his eyes and let the conversations float over him. Talk of America's rising star in foreign ports - merchants in Brazil, New Spain, Portugal, France. Yes, that merchant was speaking French. Something about his ship....
It was then he felt a hulking presence across from him. Andre opened his eyes to see a stranger had joined him, a big man, over six feet (two meters) tall with short, unkempt hair and a serious, brooding expression. He regarded Andre solemnly, then without a word signaled for Stark. "Whatever he's having." he rumbled, ignoring the spy's surprised look.
"Do I know you, sir?" Andre asked once they were alone.
"You should."
"I..should?"
"Yes."
Andre looked at the man uneasily. He had the build of a laborer, maybe a farmer and the cold, perceptive eyes of a hunter. He looked around for something that might double as a weapon. "I'm ... I have not had the pleasure, I'm sure."
"According to your conversation with President (Governor) Weare of New Hampshire, you're from Bennington." The stranger accepted his drink, swallowed the mug in one gulp, then grimaced. "Your taste in beer is appalling."
"I'm from Bennington."
"Then it is strange you don't know me." Ethan Allen, leader of the Green Mountain Boys, leaned forward. "It is also strange that I don't know you, since I know everyone with a plot in the town."
A big, dark stranger.
Andre gripped his mug tightly.
"You can imagine my surprise when I learned we had a representative in Congress," Allen added calmly.
The spy surged to his feet, catching the big American by surprise. He swung, a glancing blow that connected with Allen's forehead. He whirled for the door.
"Leave, and I will denounce you. Stay and we can do business."
Few had noticed their split second altercation. Mistress Stark hustled over. "Is everything alright Mister Andrews?"
"'Tis my fault, ma'am." Allen rose and bowed. "I gave my friend some unpleasant news. Mister
Andrews, perhaps we can finish this in your room?"
Andre nodded grimly, the sensation of feeling trapped increasing. He led the big man upstairs and opened the door. He turned to speak and ran straight into Allen's beefy fist.
Several minutes later he woke on his bed. The big stranger sat nearby, toying with his pistol. Allen pointed and fired with a click and snap. Andre jumped then relaxed, remembering his weapon wasn't loaded.
"That was for hitting me."
Andre rolled out of bed, but stumbled before he could decide whether to risk another attack. His head throbbed, his tongue tasted liked he'd drunk sewer water and bile rose from his stomach. Allen caught him easily and tossed him back on the bed. "I'd stay there," he warned. "Oh," he added, tossing a dirty handkerchief. "Your nose is bleeding."
"What do you want?" Andre demanded irritably, grabbing the cloth.
"Not much, Mister Andrews. I don't know who you are. I don't know your agenda. Honestly, I don't care. You seem to have an interest in Vermont though, so you're going to help me. If you don't, then my boys and I will vow that you're not from Bennington and given the current atmosphere they'll assume you're a spy. That's when your life gets very short and very unpleasant. On the other hand, if you help me then there's no reason we can't make this work."
"And what is it you want?"
--------------------
"Mister Andrews, are you well?" Thomas Jefferson looked at the New Hampshire delegate's battered and bruised face curiously. If one looked closely at his nose they might see dried blood.
"Merely a fall." Andre grimaced, glancing at the huge visitor in the back of the room.
"Thank God," Adams joked. "I was afraid Jay had mugged you!" John Jay, the senior New York delegate, didn't smile.
"Very well." Jefferson nodded. "The chair then recognizes New Hampshire."
"Gentlemen, I've given last night's debate serious thought. I fear Judge Jay is right...." Now the New Yorker did smile. "...and we cannot legislate a solution to this dispute."
"Hear him," New Jersey nodded.
"Which is why we wish to put forth a new resolution. Mister Jefferson's excellent document asserting our independence insists that all men are created equal. In other words, that any man of sound mind and spirit has the potential to contribute in creating a fair and just government. This is ... our founding principle, yes?" A few nods. "That is why I call on Congress to prepare an election within the disputed territory..."
"An election?" Jay bellowed. "Of your squatters? I think not!"
"I want to hear him out!" Rutledge retorted from the other end of the room.
"I agree!" Ellery added from Rhode Island's desk.
"The chair continues to recognize New Hampshire!" Jefferson banged his gavel repeatedly.
"Prepare an election," Andrews repeated sternly, "wherein the people of this territory can decide if they want to be part of New York, New Hampshire, or independent."
"Independent?" Rutledge stood quickly. His instructions from Carolina were very clear on proposals for northern states. Better to let New York keep it. "This is highly irregular! The state borders are defined by treaty and...."
"And what can be defined by one treaty can be changed by another," Deane of Connecticut challenged.
"I assume New Hampshire would have their people vote. Their people have not paid taxes to the New York government. We do not acknowledge their right to vote on an issue regarding land they're squatting on!" Jay snarled.
"It's fair," insisted Ellery. "Our guiding principles state that people can decide..."
"And where do those principles end?" North Carolina rose. "Suppose one man decides to secede. One town. Do they have a right to shop from state to state looking for a reasonable settlement?"
"A man does have that right simply by moving. You cannot move an entire town!"
Jefferson banged his gavel several more times. "Order! Mister Andrews, is that the entirety of your proposal?"
"It is, though I'm willing to discuss who is part of this electorate."
"Alright. One at a time. Judge Jay?"
The New Yorker rose and glared at the New England contingent. "We acknowledge that a man may choose to move, as Mister Ellery says. That is where our agreement ends. If these people are so set on leaving New York, then we will grant them free passage to the New Hampshire or Massachusetts border. We do not yield the land. Nor can any election that does not take into account the will of the entirety of New York, through her legislature, deprive us of this land. Mister Hawkins," he nodded at North Carolina, "reminded us yesterday that Congress has resolved territorial disputes before. By mediation and compromise. We do not have the authority to mandate this, and rightfully so. The twelve American states are free and independent, not subject to this...this..."
"Interference?" Delaware offered.
"Yes."
"I quite agree," Rutledge added when he was called. "It is one thing to discuss a dispute arising from two sovereign states. This idea of adding a third state is ludicrous. Even should this vote come to pass and these 'independents' win, it yields nothing. We cannot require New York
or New Hampshire to yield. Nor can we as independent states be forced to recognize a new state without the unanimous consent of Congress. We made a specific exception for Canada, but even those territories are not populated enough to set up a new government."
"This then is the question," 'Andrews' replied. "This land that people in both New York
and New Hampshire bought in good faith: Does it belong to them, or to the state? If it belongs to the state, then you are saying we are no different from medieval kings parceling our land out to favorite courtiers. You are saying we are like the ... Europeans, that all power and authority is derived from the state and their kings. This may be reality," he admitted, walking to the pile of papers on the clerk's desk and tapping the oldest book, "but it's not what you wrote."
"If it belongs to them though, if we truly believe that power derives from the people and the consent of the government, then they have the fundamental right to choose to whom they owe their allegiance. Land ownership is power, let us not pretend else wise. The apprentice or tenant, the laborer in a city, what freedom does he truly have when it can be so easily wrested? New York's tried repeatedly to strip our people of their land. Whether that was justified in past days or not is no longer the issue. What is at stake, however, is whether or not we owe them our protection by guaranteeing their right to choose. If New York will concede this right to an election, then I will concede that the New Yorkers who own land may also vote. This is the only fair way." Andre caught Allen's eye, who nodded faintly in approval.
Jefferson stared at the man, wondering why he was sweating. Well, it was a warm day. "Fine. Let's vote. If you agree with Mister Andrews' proposal, signify by saying aye."
Connecticut and Rhode Island joined New Hampshire. Adams, though eager for a new northern state, didn't want such a destabilizing influence on Massachusetts' border and voted against, followed swiftly by New York and New Jersey. Pennsylvania and surprisingly Delaware supported the election, though Maryland too thought it set a bad precedent. At 5-4 all eyes turned to the south, where Rutledge, Hawkins and Madison conferred briefly...then unanimously voted down the proposal.
By a score of 7-5, the Vermont controversy would continue.
I am worried about Tom. He seems to be the man riding a tiger. How does he control his men if he wants the killing to stop?
