"When Liberty rallies
Once more in thy regions, remember me then."
_Byron._
It was on a calm, clear morning in the latter part of the month of
September, that the little army of Nathaniel Bacon, wearied and worn
with protracted marches, and with hard fought battles, might be seen
winding through the woodland district to the north of Jamestown. The two
cavaliers, who led the way a little distance ahead of the main body of
the insurgents, were Bacon and his favourite comrade, Hansford--engaged,
as before, in an animated, but now a more earnest conversation. The brow
of the young hero was more overcast with care and reflection than when
we last saw him. The game, which he had fondly hoped was over, had yet
to be played, and the stake that remained was far more serious than any
which had yet been risked. During the brief interval that his undisputed
power existed, the colony had flourished and improved, and the bright
dream which he had of her approaching delivery from bondage, seemed
about to be realized. And now it was sad and disheartening to think that
the battle must again be fought, and with such odds against him, that
the chances of success were far more remote than ever. But Bacon was not
the man to reveal his feelings, and he imparted to others the
cheerfulness which he failed to feel himself. From time to time he would
ride along the broken ranks, revive their drooping spirits, inspire them
with new courage, and impart fresh ardor into their breasts for the
glorious cause in which they were engaged. Then rejoining Hansford, he
would express to him the fears and apprehensions which he had so
studiously concealed from the rest.
It was on one of these occasions, after deploring the infatuated
devotion of so many of the colonists to the cause of blind loyalty, and
the desertion of so many on whom he had relied to co-operate in his
enterprize, that he said, bitterly:
"I fear sometimes, my friend, that we have been too premature in our
struggle for liberty. Virginia is not yet ready to be free. Her people
still hug the chains which enslave them."
"Alas!" said Hansford, "it is too true that we cannot endue the infant
in swaddling bands with the pride and strength of a giant. The child who
learns to walk must meet with many a fall, and the nation that aspires
to freedom will often be checked by disaster and threatened with ruin."
"And this it is," said Bacon, sorrowfully, "that makes me sick at heart.
Each struggle to be free sinks the chain of the captive deeper into his
flesh. And should we fail now, my friend, we but tighten the fetters
that bind us."
"Think not thus gloomily on the subject," replied Hansford. "Believe me,
that you have already done much to develope the germ of freedom in
Virginia. It may be that it may not expand and grow in our brief lives;
and even though our memory may pass away, and the nation we have served
may fail to call us blessed, yet they will rejoice in the fruition of
that freedom for which we may perish. Should the soldier repine because
he is allotted to lead a forlorn hope? No! there is a pride and a glory
to know, that his death is the bridge over which others will pass to
victory."
"God bless your noble soul, Hansford," said Bacon, with the intensest
admiration. "It is men like you and not like me who are worthy to live
in future generations. Men who, regardless of the risk or sacrifice of
self, press onward in the discharge of duty. Love of glory may elevate
the soul in the hour of triumph, but love of duty, and firmness
resolutely to discharge it, can alone sustain us in the hour of peril
and trial."
This was at last the difference between the two men. Intense desire for
personal fame, united with a subordinate love of country impelled Bacon
in his course. Inflexible resolution to discharge a sacred duty, an
entire abnegation of self in its performance, and the strongest
convictions of right constituted the incentives to Hansford. It was this
that in the hour of their need sustained the heart of Hansford, while
the more selfish but noble heart of his leader almost sank within him;
and yet the effects upon the actions of the two were much the same. The
former, unswayed by circumstances however adverse, pressed steadily and
firmly on; while the latter, with the calmness of desperation, knowing
that safety, and (what was dearer) glory, lay in the path of success,
braced himself for the struggle with more than his usual resolution.
"But, alas!" continued Bacon, in the same melancholy tone, "if we should
fail, how hard to be forgotten. Your name and memory to perish among men
forever--your very grave to be neglected and uncared for; and this
living, breathing frame, instinct with life, and love, and glory, to
pass away and mingle with the dust of the veriest worm which crawls upon
the earth. Oh, God! to be forgotten, to leave no impress on the world
but what the next flowing tide may efface forever. Think of it, realize
it, Hansford--to be forgotten!"
"It would, indeed, be a melancholy thought," said Hansford, with a deep
sympathy for his friend--"if this were all. But when we remember that we
stand but on the threshold of existence, and have a higher, a holier
destiny to attain beyond, we need care but little for what is passing
here. I have sometimes thought, my friend, that as in manhood we
sometimes smile at the absurd frivolities which caught our childish
fancy, so when elevated to a higher sphere we would sit and wonder at
the interest which we took in the trifling pleasures, the empty honours,
and the glittering toys of this present life."
"And do you mean to say that honour and glory are nothing here?"
"Only so far as they reflect the honour and glory which are beyond."
"Pshaw, man!" cried Bacon, "you do not, you cannot think so. You ask me
the reason of this desire for fame and remembrance when we are dust. I
tell you it is an instinct implanted in us by the Almighty to impel us
to glorious deeds."
"Aye," said Hansford, quietly, "and when that desire, by our own
indulgence, becomes excessive, just as the baser appetites of the
glutton or the debauchee, it becomes corrupt and tends to our
destruction."
"You are a curious fellow, Hansford," said Bacon, laughing, "and should
have been one of old Noll's generals--for I believe you can preach as
well as you can fight, and believe me that is no slight commendation.
But you must excuse me if I cannot agree with you in all of your
sentiments. I am sorry to say that old Butler's 'pulpit drum
ecclesiastic' seldom beat me to a church parade while I was in England,
and here in Virginia they send us the worst preachers, as they send us
the worst of every thing. But a truce to the subject. Tell me are you a
believer in presentiments?"
"Surely such things are possible, but I believe them to be rare,"
replied his companion. "Future events certainly make an impression upon
the animal creation, and I know not why man should be exempt entirely
from a similar law. The migratory birds will seek a more southern clime,
even before a change of weather is indicated by the wind, and the
appearance of the albatross, or the bubbling of the porpoise, if we may
believe the sailors' account, portend a storm."
"These phenomena," suggested Bacon, "may easily be explained by some
atmospheric influence, insensible to our nature, but easily felt by
them."
"I might answer," replied Hansford, "that if insensible to us, we are
not warranted in presuming their existence. But who can tell in the
subtle mechanism of the mind how sensitive it may be to the impressions
of coming yet unseen events. At least, all nations have believed in the
existence of such an influence, and the Deity himself has deigned to use
it through his prophets, in the revelation of his purposes to man."
"Well, true or not," said Bacon, in a low voice, "I have felt the effect
of such a presentiment in my own mind, and although I have tried to
resist its influence I have been unable to do so. There is something
which whispers to me, Hansford, that I will not see the consummation of
my hopes in this colony--and that dying I shall leave behind me an
inglorious name. For what at last is an unsuccessful patriot but a
rebel. And oh, as I have listened to the monitions of this demon, it
seemed as though the veil of futurity were raised, and I could read my
fate in after years. Some future chronicler will record this era of
Virginia's history, and this struggle for freedom on the part of her
patriot children will be styled rebellion; our actions misrepresented;
our designs misinterpreted; and I the leader and in part the author of
the movement will be handed down with Wat Tyler and Jack Cade to infamy,
obloquy and reproach."
"Think not thus gloomily," said Hansford, "the feelings you describe are
often suggested to an excited imagination by the circumstances with
which it is surrounded; just as dreams are the run mad chroniclers of
our daily thoughts and hopes and apprehensions. You should not yield to
them, General, they unman you or at least unfit you for the duties which
lie before you."
"You are right," returned Bacon; "and I banish them from me forever. I
have half a mind to acknowledge myself your convert, Hansford; eschew
the gaily bedizzened Glory, and engage your demure little Quaker, Duty,
as my handmaiden in her place."
"I will feel but too proud of such a convert to my creed," said Hansford
laughing. "And now what of your plans on Jamestown?"
"Why to tell you the truth," said Bacon gravely; "I am somewhat at fault
in regard to my actions there. I could take the town in a day, and
repulse those raw recruits of the old Governor with ease, if they would
only sally out. But I suspect the old tyrant will play a safe game with
me--and securely ensconced behind his walls, will cut my brave boys to
pieces with his cannon before I can make a successful breach."
"You could throw up breastworks for your protection," suggested
Hansford.
"Aye, but I fear it would be building a stable after the horse was
stolen. With our small force we could not resist their guns while we
were constructing our fortifications. But I will try it by night, and we
may succeed. The d----d old traitor--if he would only meet me in open
field, I could make my way 'through twenty times his stop.'"
"Well, we must encounter some risk," replied Hansford. "I have great
hopes from the character of his recruits, too. Though they number much
more than ourselves, yet they serve without love, and in the present
exhausted exchequer of the colony, are fed more by promises than money."
"They are certainly not likely to be fed by _angels_," said Bacon, "as
some of the old prophets are said to have been. But, Hansford, an idea
has just struck me, which is quite a new manoeuvre in warfare, and
from which your ideas of chivalry will revolt."
"What is it?" asked Hansford eagerly.
"Why if it succeeds," returned Bacon, "I will warrant that Jamestown is
in our hands in twenty-four hours, without the loss of more blood than
would fill a quart canteen."
"Bravo, then, General, if you add such an important principle to the
stock of military tactics, I'll warrant that whispering demon lied, and
that you will retain both Glory and Duty in your service."
"I am afraid you will change your note, Thomas, when I develope my plan.
It is simply this--to detail a party of men to scour the country around
Jamestown, and collect the good dames and daughters of our loyal
councillors. If we take them with us, I'll promise to provide a secure
defence against the enemies' fire. The besieged will dare not fire a
gun so long as there is danger of striking their wives and children, and
we, in the meantime, secure behind this temporary breastwork, will
prepare a less objectionable defence. What think you of the plan,
Hansford?"
"Good God!" cried Hansford, "You are not in earnest General Bacon?"
"And why not?" said Bacon, in reply. "If such a course be not adopted,
at least half of the brave fellows behind us will be slaughtered like
sheep. While no harm can result to the ladies themselves, beyond the
inconvenience of a few hours' exposure to the night air, which they
should willingly endure to preserve life."
Hansford was silent. He knew how useless it was to oppose Bacon when he
had once resolved. His chivalrous nature revolted at the idea of
exposing refined and delicate females to such a trial. And yet he could
not deny that the project if successfully carried out would be the means
of saving much bloodshed, and of ensuring a speedy and easy victory to
the insurgents.
"Why, what are you thinking of, man," said Bacon gaily. "I thought my
project would wound your delicate sensibilities. But to my mind there is
more real chivalry and more true humanity in sparing brave blood to
brave hearts, than in sacrificing it to a sickly regard for a woman's
feelings."
"The time has been when brave blood would have leaped gushing from brave
hearts," said Hansford proudly, "to protect woman from the slightest
shadow of insult."
"Most true, my brave Chevalier Bayard," said Bacon, in a tone of
unaffected good humor, "and shall again--and mine, believe me, will not
be more sluggish in such a cause than your own. But here no insult is
intended and none will be given. These fair prisoners shall be treated
with the respect due to their sex and station. My hand and sword for
that. But the time has been when woman too was willing to sacrifice her
shrinking delicacy in defence of her country. Wot ye how Rome was once
saved by the noble intercession of the wife and mother of Caius
Marcus--or how the English forces were beaten from the walls of Orleans
by the heroic Joan, or how--"
"You need not multiply examples," said Hansford interrupting him, "to
show how women of a noble nature have unsexed themselves to save their
country. Your illustrations do not apply, for they did voluntarily what
the ladies of Virginia must do upon compulsion. But, sir, I have no more
to say. If you persist in this resolution, unchivalrous as I believe it
to be, yet I will try to see my duty in ameliorating the condition of
these unhappy females as far as possible."
"And in me you shall have been a most cordial coadjutor," returned
Bacon. "But, my dear fellow, your chivalry is too shallow. Excuse me, if
I say that it is all mere sentiment without a substratum of reason. Now
look you--you would willingly kill in battle the husbands of these
ladies, and thus inflict a life-long wound upon them, and yet you refuse
to pursue a course by which lives may be saved, because it subjects them
to a mere temporary inconvenience. But look again. Have you no sympathy
left for the wives, no chivalry for the daughters of our own brave
followers, whose hearts will be saved full many a pang by a stratagem,
which will ensure the safety of their protectors. Believe me, my dear
Hansford, if chivalry be nought but a mawkish sentiment, which would
throw away the real substance of good, to retain the mere shadow
reflected in its mirror, like the poor dog in the fable--the sooner its
reign is over the better for humanity."
"But, General Bacon," said Hansford, by no means convinced by the
sophistry of his plausible leader, "if the future chronicler of whom you
spoke, should indeed write the history of this enterprise, he will
record no fact which will reflect less honour upon your name, than that
you found a means for your defence in the persons of defenceless
women."
"So let it be, my gallant chevalier," replied Bacon, gaily, determined
not to be put out of humour by Hansford's grave remonstrance. "But you
have taught me not to look into future records for my name, or for the
vindication of my course--and your demure damsel Duty has whispered that
I am in the path of right. Look ye, Hansford, don't be angry with your
friend; for I assure you on the honour of a gentleman, that the dames
themselves will bear testimony to the chivalry of Nathaniel Bacon. And
besides, my dear fellow, we will not impress any but the sterner old
dames into our service. You know the older they are the better they will
serve for material for an _impregnable_ fortress."
So saying, Bacon ordered a halt, and communicating to his soldiers his
singular design, he detailed Captain Wilford and a party of a dozen men,
selected on account of their high character, to capture and bring into
his camp the wives of certain of the royalists, who, though residing in
the country, had rallied to the support of Sir William Berkeley, on his
return to Jamestown. In addition to these who were thus found in their
several homes, the detailed corps had intercepted the carriage of our
old friend, Colonel Temple; for the old loyalist had no sooner heard of
the return of Sir William Berkeley, than he hastened to join him at the
metropolis, leaving his wife and daughter to follow him on the
succeeding day. What was the consternation and mortification of Thomas
Hansford as he saw the fair Virginia Temple conducted, weeping, into the
rude camp of the insurgents, followed by her high-tempered old mother,
who to use the chaste and classic simile of Tony Lumpkin, "fidgeted and
spit about like a Catherine wheel."