We shuffled our
three kids and two dolls out the door and headed for the Royal Governor’s
mansion.
A persnickety
man assuming we were the hired help answered Emma’s timid knock on the
mansion’s front door. It seemed there
was a Royal Ball that evening and he was desperate.
“From your
casual attire, I can see you are not a guest of the Governor’s tonight so you
must be the new servants. Please come in
and I’ll show you around,” he said as we entered the heavily armed foyer. Swords, scabbards, pistols, and rifles lined
the walls from floor to ceiling. He
explained that this was a customary display of the power of the British
government and we would be expected to dust them later. “Let’s go through to the ballroom. I think Mrs. Brown, the housekeeper is
there and she’ll find you more suitable clothing and better explain your duties
for the night. It is going to be a grand
celebration of Queen Charlotte’s birthday.”
Greg and I
smiled as we followed the enthusiastic actor through the home. The kids were mesmerized. Emma pulled my sleeve as we walked and asked,
“Are we really going to get some clothes like his?”
I whispered,
“Sorry, darling, but I don’t think so… that would be neat though, wouldn’t
it?” She giggled to hide her
disappointment.
The historical
actor stayed in character throughout our tour of the mansion. After a while, we let ourselves slip back in
time to 1775. He referred to the
recent skirmish near Concord and Lexington and held all of Boston in complete
contempt for their ungrateful behavior in the past few months.
“How could
anyone disrespect our King by dumping his tea into the water? Disgraceful!”
He was definitely a loyalist.
As we wandered
the rooms, I discovered I couldn’t stop grinning. Greg looked at me like I’d
lost my mind.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great. I’m just happy.”
“About what?” He
wasn’t a history convert yet.
“This is it.” I
waved my hand around the beautiful ballroom with its portraits of the King and
Queen flanking the double doors. I pointed at the kids standing near our guide
with rapt attention as he told of the grand traditions of the British and
complained about upstarts like Thomas Jefferson and George Washington who
took it all for granted. “This is what I dreamed about for home school,” I
whispered. “I have always wanted to teach by immersion. Go and see places in person instead of just
reading about them in books. I just
can’t believe we’re here. We are
actually doing it!”
Greg and I
trailed the others out into the gardens.
Wyatt spotted a maze and raced Emma to it. Anabel sauntered through a vine-covered
pathway. Greg and I meandered around the
King’s gardens and found our way to the kitchens where a woman was
demonstrating beer making. The smell knocked me back as I entered the small
outbuilding. I decided to hang by the scullery
door and listen rather see close-up. She
banked her fire and stirred a large pot full of water, grain, hops and
yeast. She explained that in colonial
days everyone drank beer- even the children because the water was
contaminated. Brewers made two different
types: a large beer- heavy ale or porter for adults and a small beer- very weak
but bacteria free for children. The local brewers were usually cooks in the
kitchens of larger estates and servants were sometimes paid with a stipend of
weak beer. Imported beers were for the
wealthy while most common townsfolk drank a local brew. George Washington reportedly loved porters
and Thomas Jefferson preferred lighter ales.
I couldn’t wait for our dinner in the local pub to taste both to see
with which founding father I agreed.
 |
| Brewing a pint...or two. |
The remainder of
our day was spent along Gloucester Street in the shopping district of Colonial
Williamsburg. The kids perused the 18th century wares and bought
some costumes and games with the money they earned washing golf carts on Fripp. We toured the home where Jefferson studied
law and watched the blacksmith and wheelwright’s demonstrations. As we neared the House of Burgesses, we
noticed a shift in sentiment towards the British among the reenactments. No longer were the town’s folk spouting
praises for the King. Minutemen were
marching along the streets and drilling in the courtyard. A man stood on an expounding plank talking of
freedom and the rights of men.
Our last stop
was the Virginia Capital building where a riot had recently taken place. The Royal Governor and his advisors had left
in the middle of the night leaving their food still on their plates in their
private meeting room. A few months prior, Patrick Henry delivered his “Give me
liberty or give me death” speech during a covert meeting to the Virginia
convention in Richmond and rebellion took hold in Williamsburg. Patrick Henry was named the new governor and
the capital building was the site of the first Declaration of Rights in
America. I tried to instill the
magnitude of how awe-inspiring it was to stand where our founding fathers
stood.
“Anabel, Thomas
Jefferson studied law in this building.
Wyatt, this is where the first group of people agreed that all men were
created equal and free. Emma, Patrick
Henry said in this room, ‘If this be treason, make the most of it!’ Can you imagine taking such a risk? If they had been caught by the British they
would have been killed!” I gave the kids a wide-eyed look for emphasis. They stared back at me speechless. I had them. They were as interested in history as I.
Then, Emma opened her mouth and said, “Did they have
ice cream in colonial times, Mommy?”
Wyatt turned to his sister. “Ooo! I’d really like some ice cream!”
Anabel shook her head as if coming back from a daze. “Are we
getting ice cream? I want some.”
Oh well, I had them for a moment, which was better than never at all.
Oh well, I had them for a moment, which was better than never at all.
**This is an excerpt from my upcoming memoir about our family field trip year. Check out the original blogs from our trip to Colonial Williamsburg:
