The Adulterer, Part XI: More Real than Real, contd.

In terms of the number of lines delivered, Rapatio’s two most significant confidants are most certainly Bagshot and Hazelrod. The events of The Adulterer paint both of these characters as being of particular importance to the Governor of Servia’s vengeful ambitions, and in the end they may each be held responsible for no small portion of the institutional evils depicted therein. That being said, their respective characterizations are somewhat more complicated than those Warren attributed to Rapatio’s lesser supporters like Dupe, Limput, Meagre, and Gripeall. And while neither is depicted in a particularly flattering light, they nevertheless seem to be something more than mere pawns, hangers-on, or sycophants who have chosen to trail in the wake of more powerful men than themselves. Without knowing what Warren intended by this – if, indeed, she intended anything at all – the effect would seem to be a broadening of the conspiracy supposedly directed against the people of Servia. Possessed of a greater degree of autonomy than most of Raptio’s supporters – moved, it seems, by something other than loyalty and/or its potential rewards – Bagshot and Hazelrod indicate by their respective reactions to the events portrayed in The Adulterer that the threats encroaching upon the liberties of the Servian people are in fact multifaceted. Granting the validity of this depiction on Warren’s part, it again warrants caution how closely one associates any of the characters depicted in The Adulterer with their likeliest real-world counterparts.   

Bagshot, for example, was almost certainly intended to represent General Thomas Gage (1718-1787), commander-in-chief of British forces in North America between 1764 and 1775. In part responsible for the stationing of British troops in major urban centres like New York and Boston in the aftermath of the Seven Years War (1754-1763), Gage was reportedly a capable administrator and a man of honor and integrity – if also one possessed of distinctly conservative political sentiments. Tasked with overseeing the security of a newly enlarged colonial empire several thousand miles from the capital thereof, his tendency seemed to be to locate threats to peace and stability within perceived centres of disorder or discontent. In Massachusetts, this mistrust of the evident restlessness of the colonial population found its focus first in the organized resistance to the implementation of the Stamp Act (1765) and the Townshend Duties (1767). Confronted by street protests, riots, mob violence directed against colonial officials – of which, as aforementioned, both Thomas Hutchinson and Andrew Oliver were victims – and collective resistance in the form of boycotts on British goods, Gage was forced to conclude by 1770 that, “America is a mere bully, from one end to the other, and the Bostonians by far the greatest bullies [.]” Considering the nature of his remit – to maintain the peace and stability of British America – this was perhaps an unavoidable conclusion.

Over a century of relative autonomy had promoted among the citizens of the various colonies of British America a strong sense of local sovereignty and self-sufficiency that was in many ways both philosophically and logistically at odds with contemporary British political orthodoxy. However Gage and the individuals he believed were chiefly responsible for the stirring up public agitation around issues like customs duties and domestic taxation might have shared a common regard for British culture and wished to uphold British political traditions, therefore,  they were more than likely to perceive the same events, institutions, and concepts through drastically different lenses. Whereas Gage seemed to view the public backlash against the implementation of the Stamp Act and the Townshend Duties – the demonstrations, riots, petitions, and boycotts – as actively corrosive to public order, the “Boston radicals” he so detested understood them as essential to the preservation of the inherited rights and liberties that it was in part Gage’s job to protect. Likewise, while Gage eventually settled upon the ubiquitous New England town meeting as one of the core causes of political disorder in British North America – “Democracy is too prevalent in America,” he wrote his superior in 1772, “And claims the greatest attention to prevent its increase” – the people of Massachusetts understood it to be an absolutely fundamental element of the political and cultural identity. The crux of the disagreement between Thomas Gage and the most ardent critics of British policy in America in the 1760s and 1770s was therefore both monumental and somewhat slight. Each sought to defend and promote the cultural and political community to which they shared a common connection, disagreeing chiefly in terms of method and process.

While, again, Warren’s Bagshot is not nearly as obsequious as most of Rapatio’s followers, his portrayal in The Adulterer nonetheless fails to capture the sincerity at the heart of his real-world counterpart’s public behavior. Speaking to the Governor of Servia in the first of his two appearances, he expresses his undisguised disdain for the riotous behavior of the Servian people upon the killing of an innocent youth by one of Rapatio’s supporters. “It must not [,]” he vows, “Shall not be – the dirty scoundrels, / Foaming with passion animate each other – / Abuse my men and trample on my bands.” Wholly forgoing any semblance of sympathy, Bagshot here seems far more concerned with the indignity being suffered by his men as they face abuse at the hands of an agitated populace. Rapatio seems to play upon and feed this evident sense of vanity and self-importance with his response, calling the people in question, “Insulting dogs!” He then goes on explain that, “A scene now opens to my mind. / And hark’ee Bagshot – should these high swollen wretches / Again insult, remember you are soldiers [.]” Bagshot’s response again seems to show the focus of his anger as being tied to the pride of the men serving under him. “Well then,” he replies,

Since you approve, 

I’ll give those orders, which I dare not do

By my mere motion.

Repeated wrongs have blown up all their courage.

They stretch like steeds, and snuff the distant battle;

And like the vulture, couch in dreadful ambush

And wait a day of carnage – fire, adieu [.]

Bagshot here expresses a willingness to visit force upon the people of Servia, not because it will please Rapatio to do so – as seemed to motivate the aforementioned Dupe and Limput – but because he seems to believe that the men under his command require it. “Repeated wrongs have blown up all their courage,” he says, as might a father who wants to see his bullied son fight back. And while his subsequent description of them as a species of beast is perhaps not the most flattering – “They stretch like steeds,” he avows, “And snuff the distant battle” – it likewise seems to expose an aggressively paternal attitude on Bagshot’s part. If the men under his command are like horses, then he as their handler wants to let them run – let them live and act according to their nature. While the outcome of this attitude ultimately serves the end that Rapatio desires, the manner in which Bagshot expresses it seems to have little to do with pleasing or glorifying his selfsame superior.

The second – and perhaps most compelling – of Bagshot’s two appearances in The Adulterer comes at the end of Act II, Scene II. Confronted by a delegation of Servian Senators who seek to remonstrate with Rapatio over the turmoil his leadership has thus far witnessed, the Governor of Servia begs to confer with his chief military officer before making any decisions concerning the movement or dismissal of troops. Once alone with Bagshot, however, he proceeds to curse the rebelliousness of the Patriots and ask his general-in-chief what might be done. “Say, Bagshot,” he bluntly enquires, “Can you stand the gathering storm?” Bagshot’s answer, in light of the appearance he earlier displayed of sensitivity to slights or disrespect, is surprisingly pragmatic. “Tis a hard case indeed,” he admits,

What can I do?, 

A soldier’s honor should remain unsullied.

True to his post, should laugh at every danger,

Enjoy his fate, and smile amid the storm.

But when ten thousand furies burst upon me,

Despise my utmost force and breathe defiance

Honor says, stand – but prudence says, retire.

Rapatio is understandably taken aback by this, and seeks to once more tweak the man’s pride. “But, Bagshot!” he cries, “How this scoundrel mob will triumph.” Bagshot remains unmoved, however, and this time dismisses the Governor’s entreaty to further violence. “These are charming words [,]” he agrees,

           Close in his cell, the calm philosopher

            Enjoys the storm, grasps at the palm of glory,

            And fights the distant battles of the world.

            It will not, cannot do – if they’re determined

            We yield to conquering fate and curse our fortune.

No longer eager to let his men off the leash – to allow their injured pride to find relief in bloodshed – Bagshot has become wholly resigned to the whims of “conquering fate.” Whether Warren intended her audience to attribute this change of heart to military pragmatism or cowardice, however, is not entirely clear.

            Bagshot, whether seeking violence or scorning it, gives voice to a quality of military pretension in the way that he responds to Rapatio’s enquiries and requests. He seems concerned with matters of image, reputation, and pride. Salving the prestige of his command appears to interest him to a greater extent than feeding the ego of his ostensible superior. And so he acts, with Rapatio’s urging, to put down what then doubtless seemed to be a relatively minor disturbance. He moves from strength, therefore, and attacks when victory is assured. By the time Rapatio once more seeks his counsel, however, Bagshot’s vanity no longer appears to rule him. He still feels a prideful need to stand fast against the mounting gale of public discontent – to “laugh at every danger,” and “and smile amid the storm” – but the odds are no longer in his favor. Opposed this time by “ten thousand furies,” Bagshot relents, scorns Rapatio’s naïve ardour, and counsels acceptance of defeat. Uncertain of victory, therefore – or perhaps certain of defeat – he refuses to risk his pride or his life, regardless of the cause.

While presenting something of an oversimplification, this basic outline likely conformed to what the average American colonist of the late 18^th century perceived of the British military establishment. Men like Gage came into their midst, full of the pomp and circumstance that officers were trained and cultured to seek and protect, and proceeded to act and to behave according to orders that often had very little to do with the daily concerns of the British American people. Gage in particular was tasked with maintaining security and stability in the aftermath of the Seven Years War, and went about this commission with what his superiors doubtless believed to be efficiency and zeal. When, over the course of the 1760s, it became clear that the greater threat to colonial security lay in the urban centres rather than on the frontier, he oversaw the deployment of British troops in places like Boston and New York City. And when discontent persisted – in the form of protests and petitions – he first identified the restless colonial elite as the source of the trouble, and then the New England propensity for local self-government. These were not acts of cruelty or pride – by all accounts – but rather the actions of an experienced, shrewd, and dedicated military officer who sought to fulfil his responsibilities as best as he was able. The colonists whose streets were being patrolled by armed soldiers and whose cherished institutions were being actively maligned, however, were unlikely to see things in quite that way.

To the typical citizen of 1770s Massachusetts, figures like Gage were more than likely seen to be officious, draconian, and uncaring. Far from acting out of principle – or seeming to, at any rate – he simply followed the orders given him. Whether those order required him to protect settlers in the colonial interior from raids by Native Americans or to place the streets of Boston under armed guard surely appeared to those affected to matter very little. Indeed, most colonials likely had no way of telling what Gage thought of the directives he had been given to carry out. All that they had access to, by which to form their opinions of the man, were appearances and outcomes. He seemed to relish participating in the social scene in New York City, were his administration kept its headquarters. Perhaps this made him appear vain and prideful. He professed a strong suspicion of the aforementioned town meeting form of municipal government, and lobbied to have it banned. No doubt this caused him to seem like an enemy of the liberties of the people of colonial New England. His soldiers fired upon a crowd that had assembled before the customs house in Boston on the night of March 5^th, 1770, and were subsequently acquitted of murder. Likely this made him appear uncaring and cruel. What evidence exists indicates that Thomas Gage was not these things, or at least not exclusively. But Bagshot was, as drawn by Warren. Not a devotee of Rapatio – just as Gage, in fairness, was not a confidant of Hutchinson – the commander of Servia’s military acted rather out of evident concern for military distinction. He favored the pride of his men, expressed no qualms about using force against an outmatched opponent, and retreated in the face of potential defeat.

This was very much a caricature, though an intriguing one all the same. However willing Warren may have been to portray a Gage-like figure as embodying the worst aspects of a the type of military functionary familiar to her fellow countrymen, she at least saw fit to separate him in some way from her drama’s unequivocal villain. Bagshot was certainly an ally of Rapatio – perhaps even a confidant – but his interactions with the Governor of Servia are notably absent the fawning praise that so strongly characterizes the dialogue of figures like Dupe and Limput. Indeed, he even goes so far as to disagree with Rapatio’s request for military aid. None of his contemporaries in service to the Governor of Servia even approach this level of autonomy. And though it amounts to little in the context of The Adulterer – Rapatio’s machinations are not much hampered by Bagshot’s refusal – it would nonetheless seem to nod in the direction of the complexity of the threats facing the contemporary American opposition to Britain’s increasingly heavy-handed rule. Hutchinson and Gage – Rapatio and Bagshot’s real-world equivalents – were not “partners in crime” who worked towards a common goal by different means. Rather, they were semi-autonomous agents of separate power structures with different goals and different outlooks. Hutchinson was a statesman, a native of Massachusetts, and an earnest believer in the relationship between English liberties and the supremacy of the English Parliament. Gage, conversely, was a soldier, the son of a Sussex nobleman, and a firm advocate of order and stability. These men were not natural allies, and it would surely have behooved the aforementioned American opposition to understand that when attempting to gauge, predict, or counter their reactions to a potential campaign of political resistance.