Pugna Pro Patria
Jessica Bruce
March 11, 1766 – Red Hill Plantation, Virginia – Fight for the Fatherland!
* * * *
My mentor sat, and my chair was pulled up beside him. The mahogany, circular table, in which was less than a few inches from his stomach, reflected the expression upon my mentor's face. His palms were clasped, as if he was praying to the Lord again, and while my dedication should remain to my studies, my curiosity reined over my position; an apprentice to His Most Esteemed and Esquire and one of Virginia's most respected individuals.
Raising his head and turning to the right in my direction, the solemn expression upon my mentor's face stared back at me. He pointed to the pages scattered in front of my chest, and then my pupils followed the change of course of his right index finger, and it pointed to two additional objects – a black book entitled Bible in gold lettering, and the other, another book that was supposedly my study guide.
I lowered my head sheepishly, and with effort to soothe myself for shaming my mentor, I slipped a finger under the fabric of my breeches and stroked the top of my right kneecap.
"Forgive me, I have let distractions grip my responsibilities," I mumbled to the wooden floor.
"It can not be emphasized too strongly that your explicit diversion will not earn a seat along side me in a courthouse," he said sharply, which only persuaded me further to divert my attention from directly exchanging eye contact. "Hand me the Bible, Matthew. I shall engage with the Lord's words, while you tidy, and straighten the papers upon my desk."
The Bible was less than three inches from my stomach, and its spine faced my study guide; the blue book, used strictly in teaching lawyers. I raised my head, frowning, and immediately gripped the Bible, without questioning. In my fore and middle finger, I leaned forward, and he snatched the object from me.
I watched him open the black book, flip through the pages, and continued tarnishing my spirit this evening. I listened obediently, and although some of the barefaced phrases he spoke of his apprentice, I sensed I was the scapegoat for a reason I could not fathom.
"Honestly!" he declared, speaking to the Bible, rather than offering the common curiosity of speaking directly to me. "Regardless the service spent under my watchful eye, the time involved has been less than satisfactory. I assumed a lad born into an affluent family, and one whose father manages their own counting house, would have the mannerisms of a Saint. But, oh no! His heir has the manners of a curious child, who in my humble opinion has barely learnt the feat of walking!"
I moaned, and in a silent solution from his attacks, I grabbed all the scattered pieces of paper, and shoved them under my open book. I hoped if my mentor saw I listened to his instructions, the insults would cease.
"Sir, what –"
"Oh," he interrupted by waving his hand without removing his fixed gaze upon the Bible. "Cease on the formalities, and you might as well call me by my name. You have been an apprentice in my home… how long now?" he asked, and finally displayed eye contact with me.
"Little over a year, Sa – I mean, about a year and a half, Mister Henry," I said, still frowning.
In response, I watched Mister Henry reach up, and grip his spectacles, resting on top of his head, and dropped them abruptly on the table. With the Bible in his lap, Mister Henry rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, and when he had finished, he retrieved the book, and dropped that as well onto the table.
"Well, go on, and proceed," he remarked, waving the back of his hand. I must say, tufts of hair on any man's knuckles are not appealing, especially four rows of black bushes that ought to be trimmed.
On the rare moments, I disobeyed a person I hold with admiration, and questioned my mentor instead of adhering to his request, who over the short span spent together, I considered Mister Henry a reliable friend.
I fiddled with the cravat around my neck, readjusting it, and then I tugged my silver waistcoat, in an effort to appear more presentable – a gentleman. "Before I continue, I do have a question, and please forgive my disobedience. I will read soon afterwards. You have my vow," I remarked firmly.
"And what in the Almighty's name is the question, Matthew Cuthbert?"
I swallowed nervously, for Mister Henry's demeanor this evening was unusual. Normally, he is firm and strict, but Mister Henry has always been diligent with his teaching practices, either by willingly following along with an index finger while I read aloud in my book or patiently explaining certain passages thoroughly in such a way that I understood - mostly anyway. My conscious mind comprehends that I am not the tidiest man, (and to be reminded by my mentor was uncalled for), to ever have graced God's Green Earth, but Mister Henry's attacks were a bit hurtful. Although I have kept my composure by not physically displaying emotions, I had to know the reasoning of blatant disregard in respect for another, especially a punctual and hardworking apprentice.
"Mister Cuthbert?" and I felt a hand jerk my shoulder blade.
I shook my head quickly and blinked. "Huh?" I asked confusedly.
I blinked again, and then I watched Mister Henry fold his hands neatly in his lap, crossing his left leg over the other, and gazed in my direction, tightlipped.
"The toll has chimed seven, and you have yet to keep to your vow. What is troubling you?"
My jaw dropped, and my eyelids instantly widened. How did he know I was feeling perturbed?
"Mister Henry, how is it you knew I am troubled?"
"That frown of yours has never exhausted itself, not since you graced your presence in my humble house several hours before. Now, is there an answer or not?"
"Yes, of course," I said hastily, trying to secure precious time. "My apologies, Mister Henry, Esquire, but I am in a rather dispirited position. May I be so blunt as to ask a personal question?"
"And I am not to receive an answer first?" Mister Henry remarked.
"The answer will come forth with my question," I retorted.
I listened to him sigh deeply, and mutter words under his breath, which to me, was perfectly acceptable. Whatever was mumbled by his lips probably was not too constructive.
"Well? What is the delay, Matthew? You may ask, and I trust that the question will not be intimate."
"Intimate? Certainly not, I assure you, Mister Patrick Henry," I started, and waited for the response.
Several seconds passed, and I boldly held eye contact.
I knew my behavior was becoming less than acceptable and for a merchant's son, I should not be so voiceful with my opinions but his strange conduct has distracted me from my studies. In a way, now that I ponder about it, my own demeanor has changed drastically serving under the wing of Mister Henry's arm. I used to be shy and awkward, and certainly not as outgoing. Instead, if I knew I was at fault, I cowered.
Mister Henry's missus has been nothing but supportive and encouraging in my favor, and the Henry children – their vibrant youth shows when they frolic, hoot and holler. The children's antics always put a smile on my face. In fact, once while the six of us, (including myself, which made it seven), were sitting at a long and rectangle table exchanging morning prayers with the Mighty Lord, the elder, Miss Martha, had tugged the sleeve of my shirt, forcing me to halt with my prayers. I glanced up, and she smiled, like the pretty young thing that Martha was, with her blond locks and rosy cheeks; Martha had received her Mother's looks, which was certain. The master and my teacher never looked up but continued muttering Psalms and his missus, Miss Sarah, never acknowledged one of their children had stopped an hour too soon but regardless, I sat back in my seat and returned Martha's enormous smile. I put a finger to my lips to caution her not to laugh and mouthed the words – Do not move, so sounds would not disturb the others. Instead, Martha ignored my gesture completely, and reached across the table, slipping her tiny hand in mine and a crumbled ball of parchment was left in my palm.
I closed my fist, and with concern, I glanced first at Mister Henry. His head was still hung low, muttering amongst himself. I remember exhaling with relief and then I observed Miss Sarah. Her head also hung low, with folded fists, like her husband and the other children mimicked their parents.
I remember smiling again, and opened the paper. There was an awful crinkling, and so that was enough of a sound to trigger distraction. Mister Henry instantly looked up and frowned. I coughed, and fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair. Through the corner of my right eye, Miss Sarah glared at me too. The rest of the children had started giggling, which only made the humiliation worsen, and I reacted by staring at the table blankly.
"Give it here, Matthew," I heard Mister Henry say sharply.
I responded by grabbing the piece of paper and handed it to Miss Sarah.
"Thank you, Matthew," she said politely. "Children!" and a crack of hands echoed throughout the room. The Henry children instantly shut their jaws, and I was grateful for the silence and voluntarily basked in it.
I watched Miss Sarah pass the paper over to her husband, and I momentarily glanced at Martha. She was still smiling, and it appeared it had broadened upon her face.
"Read it Papa!" Martha giggled.
"Shh… M' dear," he cooed to his daughter. "I am having a time deciphering a child's handwriting."
"I will tell you what it says!" Martha cried enthusiastically.
Mister Henry placed the paper in front of him, and folded his hands again upon the table.
"Enlighten us, M' dear, and explain the message," Mister Henry said, without a trace of an expression.
Miss Martha boldly stood up on her chair, and pointed directly at me, giggling. "Matthew came to live with us, and I am glad about it."
"Oh? And that is what you wrote?" he asked.
Martha nodded, and then sat.
I remember Mister Henry reaching across, and slipped his hand under his missus's and he graced me with a thoughtful smile. At once, my anxiety disappeared, and I smiled awkwardly towards Mister Henry.
"We are delighted to have you in our home, Matthew, even if it is temporary," Miss Sarah commented cheerfully.
"Yes, Matthew, at best, in the short months spent, you have proved to be an apprentice that any decent gentleman would willingly accept. And, I appreciate assisting my wife with the children, when I am elsewhere."
____
"In a short while, we will retire, Matthew. The hands are pointing to seven-thirty of the Clock. There will be no time for you to continue but lad, speak up! I am growing wearing, and thin of patience."
His voice snapped me out of the memory, and I nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir… I mean Mister Henry, I realize we are to retire at eight o' clock, and the question is, what is troubling you?"
I watched his eyes widen, and then he blinked as well. "You assume I am troubled?"
I nodded in response.
"What precisely had brought you to that conclusion?"
"You have done nothing but blatantly insult me, and I am not accustomed to it. Have I dishonored you? Have I done something that has not lived up to your expectations?"
A deep sigh escaped his lips, and I watched my mentor turn around and glance upwards at the clock. Another sigh came, and then he turned back around.
"Matthew, I apologize. Your parents entrusted me to care for you, and in truth your tactless conduct is one such trait I have grown to admire. When this eighteen year old lad entered my home, I admit, I had my doubts. Here was a well-dressed gentleman and his tentative son, whom barely spoke two words in the entire introductions. Yet now here you remain, and by all accounts, Matthew, heir to Jonathan Cuthbert, you are intelligent for nineteen. That is why I remain rigorous with your studies; I honestly sense potential."
The compliment only caused me to flush. "I promise I will finish this chapter tomorrow, Mister Henry. I will not disappoint my mentor," I remarked firmly. "But you have not answered my question. What exactly has bothered you? Maybe I can be of assistance."
"If you were just an apprentice, I would never reveal but you have proved to be more. Martha is rather attached to you, and so is the rest of my family, including myself," he coughed.
Whether the coughing was intentional in hiding Mister Henry's feelings or he really had to clear his throat, I was unsure, but I assumed he had flem caught his air pipe. He usually speaks his mind, and that is one characteristic I have admired about him. Mister Henry seems to be never afraid to express himself.
"The public degradation has caused me much grief. This confounded Stamp Act has forced me to reproach George the Third, and contemplate about his beliefs."
"Sir! That be treason! Careful or you will be sent to the pillory."
"And would you betray me, Matthew?" he asked seriously.
"No, but… You are my teacher, and I consider you as a friend but my parents, they taught me to respect His Majesty."
"Yes, but what is your personal belief?"
"I am unsure. I suppose I am neutral."
"Pugna pro Patria!" Mister Henry bellowed, and I jumped back in my seat in surprise.
"Neutral is not acceptable, Matthew! Either you are a God forsaken Tory or a Whig!"
"I… I…," I stuttered, unable to organize my thoughts. "What… what is the meaning?" I managed to say.
"It is Latin, and the translation – Fight for your Fatherland!" he boomed, and slammed a fist against the table.
"You will… will wake the missus and the others, sir," I stuttered.
"Never mind them," he growled. "If I have not taught you anything, remember this," he said, narrowing his left eye and shaking an index finger angrily at me, "Guard the public liberty, and protect it. Protect it Almighty God!"
"Yes, sir, I will," I agreed, in an effort to avoid further friction amongst each other.
"Good," he yawned, stretching his hands high above his head. "It is time for sleep. Do you require anything before you head to your quarters, Matthew?"
"No," I mumbled, and was relieved his tone lowered. "I apologize for upsetting you. It was how I was raised."
"And while your parent's intentions were less than worthy, you are not bound to their morals."
I had not thought of that. I was raised to be obedient and respectful of my elders, especially with the royal family, and so under my parent's roof I never had much of an opinionated mind. At least, not until my father dropped me off at the Henry estate.
At that thought, I produced a grin, and turned my head to the left in his direction. "Like Mister Patrick Henry, Esquire, my decision is this: I want to be a Whig," I said firmly, and then puffed out my chest, pleased by my choice.
A quiet chuckled escaped Mister Henry's lips and he reached forward, clutching my left shoulder. "That is the intelligence of Matthew Cuthbert I admire, and I foresee a lawyer within you yet. Keep to your studies and your work ethics will reward you eventually."
"Thank you," I said simply.
"You are quite welcome. Now," he yawned again, "It is time."
I nodded.
He removed his hand from my shoulder and pointed to the Bible. "I have another in my quarters. Take this with you, and may He visit you in your dreams."
"Thank you, Mister Henry. I will read some before I shut my eyelids."
Mister Henry responded by standing, leaving behind his spectacles, and trudged wearily away from me.
I stood, grabbed both books, my study guide and the Bible, and shoved them under my right armpit. Before I left, I pushed the two chairs neatly in front of the table, so Miss Sarah would not have another chore to attend too.
"Matthew, it is past the hour of eight o' clock," he called. "We will continue tomorrow at precisely six in the afternoon."
I whirled around, and noticed Mister Henry staring at me over his left shoulder. I obeyed and walked quickly to catch up with him. We walked side by side, and then made a right-hand turn which led to stairs. Mister Henry walked up first, yawning loudly, and I followed his slow pace all the way up.
In the hallway on the second floor, my friend rubbed the back of my shoulder, and displayed a thin smile. "May the Almighty protect and watch a member of my family."
Again, I flushed, and lowered my head sheepishly. Vibrations erupted, and I glanced upwards. To the left of me, Mister Henry walked slowly away in the direction of his room.
His remark caused me to smile ear to ear, and I turned to my right, heading for my own room, and one that I had all to myself.
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