"In the service of mankind to be
A guardian god below; still to employ
The mind's brave ardour in heroic aims,
Such as may raise us o'er the grovelling herd
And make us shine forever--that is life."
_Thomson._
In a short time the bustle and stir in the camp of the insurgents
announced that their little army was about to commence its march.
Nathaniel Bacon rode slowly along Stuart street, at the head of the
soldiery, and leaving Jamestown to the east, extended his march towards
the falls of James river. Here, he had received intelligence that the
hostile tribes had gathered to a head, and he determined without delay
to march upon them unawares, and with one decisive blow to put an end to
the war. Flushed with triumph, he thought, the soldiery would more
willingly and efficiently turn their arms against the government, and
aid in carrying out his darling project of effecting some organic
changes in the charter of the colony; if, indeed, it was not already his
purpose to dissolve the political connection of Virginia with the mother
country.
The little party rode on in silence for several miles, for each was
buried in his own reflections. Bacon, with his own peculiar views of
ambition and glory, felt but little sympathy with those who united in
the rebellion for the specific object of a march against the savages.
Hansford was meditating on the heavy sacrifice which he had made for his
country's service, and striving to see, in the dim future, some gleam of
hope which might cheer him in his gloom. Lawrence and Drummond, the two
most influential leaders in the movement, had been left behind in
Jamestown, their place of residence, to watch the movements of Berkeley,
in whose fair promises none of the insurgents seemed to place implicit
confidence. The rest of the little party had already exhausted in
discussion the busy events of the day, and remained silent from want of
material for conversation.
At length, however, Bacon, whose knowledge of human nature had
penetrated the depths of Hansford's heart, and who felt deeply for his
favourite, gave him the signal to advance somewhat in front of their
comrades, and the following conversation took place:
"And so, my friend," said Bacon, in the mild, winning voice, which he
knew so well how to assume; "and so, my friend, you have renounced your
dearest hopes in life for this glorious enterprise."
Hansford only answered with a sigh.
"Take it not thus hardly," continued Bacon. "Think of your loss as a
sacrifice to liberty. Look to the future for your happiness, to a
redeemed and liberated country for your home--to glory as your bride."
"Alas!" said Hansford, "glory could never repay the loss of happiness.
Believe me, General, that personal fame is not what I covet. Far better
would it be for me to have been born and reared in obscurity, and to
pass my brief life with those I love, than for the glittering bauble,
glory, to give up all that is dear to the heart."
"And do you repent the course you have taken," asked Bacon, with some
surprise.
"Repent! no; God forbid that I should repent of any sacrifice which I
have made to the cause of my country. But it is duty that prompts me,
not glory. For as to this selfsame will-o'-the-wisp, which seems to
allure so many from happiness, I trust it not. I am much of the little
Prince Arthur's mind--
'By my Christendom,
So I were out of prison and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long.'
Duty is the prison which at last keeps man from enjoying his own happier
inclination."
"There you are wrong, Hansford," said Bacon, "duty is the poor drudge,
which, patient in its harness, pursues the will of another. Glory is the
wild, unconfined eagle, that impatient of restraint would soar to a
heaven of its own."
"And is it such an object as this that actuates you in our present
enterprise?" asked Hansford.
"Both," replied the enthusiastic leader. "Man, in his actions, is
controlled by many forces--and duty is chiefly prized when it waits as
the humble handmaiden on glory. But in this enterprise other feelings
enter in to direct my course. Revenge against these relentless wolves of
the forest for the murder of a friend--revenge against that proud old
tyrant, Berkeley, who, clothed in a little brief authority, would
trample me under his feet,--love of my country, which impels me to aid
in her reformation, and to secure her liberty--and, nay, don't
frown,--desire for that fame which is to the mere discharge of plain
duty what the spirit is to the body--which directs and sustains it here,
but survives its dissolution. Are not these sufficient motives of
action?"
"Pardon me, General," said Hansford, "but I see only one motive here
which is worthy of you. Self-preservation, not revenge, could alone
justify an assault upon these misguided savages--and your love of
country is sufficient inducement to urge you to her protection and
defence. But these motives are chiefly personal to yourself. How can you
expect them to affect the minds of your followers?"
"Look ye, Major Hansford," said Bacon, "I speak to you as I do not to
most men--because I know you have a mind and a heart superior to
them--I would dare not attempt to influence you as I do others; but do
you see those poor trusting fellows that are following in our wake?
These men help men like you and me to rise, as feathers help the eagle
to soar above the clouds. But the proud bird may moult a feather from
his pinion without descending from his lofty pride of place."
"And this then is what you call liberty?" said Hansford, a little
offended at the overbearing manner of the young demagogue.
"Certainly," returned Bacon, calmly, "the only liberty for which the
mass of mankind are fitted. The instincts of nature point them to the
man most worthy to control their destinies. Their brute force aids in
elevating him to power--and then he returns upon their heads the
blessings with which they have entrusted him. Do you remember the happy
compliment of my old namesake of St. Albans to Queen Elizabeth? Royalty
is the heaven which, like the blessed sun, exhales the moisture from the
earth, and then distilling it in gentle rains, it falleth on the heads
of those from whom she has received it."
"I remember the compliment, which beautiful though it may be in imagery,
I always thought was but the empty flattery of a vain old royal spinster
by an accomplished courtier. I never suspected that St. Albans, far less
his relative, Nathaniel Bacon, believed it to be true. And so, with all
your high flown doctrines of popular rights and popular liberty, you are
an advocate for royalty at last."
"Nay, you mistake me, I will not say wilfully," replied Bacon, in an
offended tone, "I merely used the sentiment as an illustration of what I
had been saying. The people must have rulers, and my idea of liberty
only extends to their selection of them. After that, stability in
government requires that the power of the people should cease, and that
of the ruler begin. You may purify the stream through which the power
flows, by constantly resorting to the fountain head; but if you keep the
power pent up in the fountain, like water, it will stagnate and become
impure, or else overflow its banks and devastate that soil which it was
intended to fertilize."
"Our ideas of liberty, I confess," said Hansford, "differ very widely.
God grant that our antagonistic views may not prejudice the holy cause
in which we are now engaged."
"Well, let us drop the subject then," said Bacon, carelessly, "as there
is so little prospect of our agreeing in sentiment. What I said was
merely meant to while away this tedious journey, and make you forget
your own private griefs. But tell me, what do you think of the result of
this enterprise?"
"I think it attended with great danger," replied Hansford.
"I had not thought," returned Bacon, with something between a smile and
a sneer, "that Thomas Hansford would have considered the question of
peril involved in a contest like this."
"I am at a loss to understand your meaning," said Hansford, indignantly.
"If you think I regard danger for myself, I tell you that it is a
feeling as far a stranger to my bosom as to your own, and this I am
ready to maintain. If you meant no offence, I will merely say that it is
the part of every general to 'sit down and consider the cost' before
engaging in any enterprise."
"Why will you be so quick to take offence?" said Bacon. "Do I not know
that fear is a stranger to your breast?--else why confide in you as I
have done? But I spoke not of the danger attending our enterprise. To me
danger is not a matter of indifference, it is an object of desire. They
who would bathe in a Stygian wave, to render them invulnerable, are not
worthy of the name of heroes. It is only the unmailed warrior, whose
form, like the white plume of Navarre, is seen where danger is the
thickest, that is truly brave and truly great."
"You are a singular being, Bacon," said Hansford, with admiration, "and
were born to be a hero. But tell me, what is it that you expect or hope
for poor Virginia, when all your objects may be attained? She is still
but a poor, helpless colony, sapped of her resources by a relentless
sovereign, and expected to submit quietly to the oppressions of those
who would enslave her."
"By heavens, no!" cried Bacon, impetuously. "It shall never be. Her
voice has been already heard by haughty England, and it shall again be
heard in thunder tones. She who yielded not to the call of an imperious
dictator--she who proposed terms to Cromwell--will not long bear the
insulting oppression of the imbecile Stuarts. The day is coming, and now
is, when on this Western continent shall arise a nation, before whose
potent sway even Britain shall be forced to bow. Virginia shall be the
Rome and England shall be the Troy, and history will record the annals
of that haughty and imperious kingdom chiefly because she was the mother
of this western Rome. Yes," he continued, borne along impetuously by his
own gushing thoughts, "there shall come a time when Freedom will look
westward for her home, and when the oppressed of every nation shall
watch with anxious eye that star of Freedom in its onward course, and
follow its bright guidance till it stands over the place where
Virginia--this young child of Liberty--is; and oh! Hansford, will it
then be nothing that we were among those who watched the infant
breathings of that political Saviour--who gave it the lessons of wisdom
and of virtue, and first taught it to speak and proclaim its mission to
the world? Will it then be nothing for future generations to point to
our names, and, in the language of pride and gratitude, to cry, there go
the authors of our freedom?"
So spake the young enthusiast, thus dimly foreshadowing the glory that
was to be--the freedom which, just one hundred years from that eventful
period, burst upon the world. He was not permitted, like Simeon of old,
to see the salvation for which he longed, and for which he wrought. And
yet he helped to plant the germ, which expanded into the wide-spreading
tree, and his name should not be forgotten by those who rejoice in its
fruit, or rest secure beneath its shade.
Thus whiling away the hours of the night in such engrossing subjects,
Hansford had nearly forgotten his sorrows in the visions of the future.
How beneficent the Providence which thus enables the mind to receive
from without entirely new impressions, which soften down, though they
cannot erase, the wounds that a harsh destiny has inflicted.
But it is time that the thread of our narrative was broken, in order to
follow the fortunes of an humble, yet worthy character of our story.