"Why, there's an end then! I have judged deliberately, and the
result is death." _The Gamester._
Situated, as nearly as might be, in the centre of each of the counties
of Virginia, was a small settlement, which, although it aspired to the
dignity of a town, could scarcely deserve the name. For the most part,
these little country towns, as they were called, were composed of about
four houses, to wit: The court house, dedicated to justice, where sat,
monthly, the magistrates of the county, possessed of an unlimited
jurisdiction in all cases cognizable in law or chancery, not touching
life or murder, and having the care of orphans' persons and estates; the
jail, wherein prisoners committed for any felony were confined, until
they could be brought before the general court, which had the sole
criminal jurisdiction in the colony; the tavern, a long, low wooden
building, generally thronged with loafers and gossips, and reeking with
the fumes of tobacco smoke, apple-brandy and rye-whiskey; and, finally,
the store, which shared, with the tavern, the patronage of the loafers,
and which could be easily recognized by the roughly painted board sign,
containing a catalogue of the goods within, arranged in alphabetical
order, without reference to any other classification. Thus the
substantial farmer, in search of a pound of _candy_ for his little white
headed barbarians, whom he had left at play, must needs pass his finger
over "cards, chains, calico, cowhides, and candy;" or, if he had come to
"town" to purchase a bushel of meal for family use, his eye was greeted
with the list of M's, containing meal, mustard, mousetraps, and
molasses.
It was to the little court house town of the county of Accomac, that Sir
William Berkeley had retired after the burning of Jamestown; and here he
remained, since the suppression of the rebellion, like a cruel old
spider, in the centre of his web, awaiting, with grim satisfaction, the
capture of such of the unwary fugitives as might fall into his power.
"Well, gentlemen, the court martial is set," said Sir William Berkeley,
as he gazed upon the gloomy faces of the military men around him, in the
old court house of Accomac. In that little assembly, might be seen the
tall and manly form of Colonel Philip Ludwell, who had been honoured, by
the especial confidence of Berkeley, as he was, afterwards, by the
constant and tender love of the widowed Lady Frances. There, too, was
the stern, hard countenance of Major Robert Beverley, whose unbending
loyalty had shut his eyes to true merit in an opponent. The names of the
remaining members of the court, have, unfortunately, not found a place
in the history of the rebellion. Alfred Bernard, on whom the governor
had showered, with a lavish hand, the favours which it was in his power
to bestow, had been promoted to the office of Major, in the room of
Thomas Hansford, outlawed, and was, therefore, entitled to a seat at the
council which was to try the life of his rival. But as his evidence was
of an important character, and as he had been concerned directly in the
arrest of the prisoner, he preferred to act in the capacity of a
witness, rather than as a judge.
"Let the prisoner be brought before the court," said Berkeley; and in a
few moments, Hansford, with his hands manacled, was led, between a file
of soldiers, to the seat prepared for him. His short confinement had
made but little change in his appearance. His face, indeed, was paler
than usual, and his eye was brighter, for the exciting and solemn scene
through which he was about to pass. But prejudged, though he was, his
firmness never forsook him, and he met with a calm, but respectful gaze,
the many eyes which were bent upon him. Conspicuous among the rebels,
and popular and beloved in the colony, his trial had attracted a crowd
of spectators; some impelled by vulgar curiosity, some by their loyal
desire to witness the trial of a rebel to his king, but not a few by
sympathy for his early and already well known fate.
As might well be expected, there was but little difficulty in
establishing his participation in the late rebellion. There were many of
the witnesses, who had seen him in intimate association with Bacon, and
several who recognized him as among the most active in the trenches at
Jamestown. To crown all, the irresistible evidence was introduced by
Bernard, that the prisoner had actually brought a threatening message to
the governor, while at Windsor Hall, which had induced the first flight
to Accomac. It was useless to resist the force of such accumulated
testimony, and Hansford saw that his fate was settled. It were folly to
contend before such a tribunal, that his acts did not constitute
rebellion, or that the court before whom he was arraigned was
unconstitutional. The devoted victim of their vengeance, therefore,
awaited in silence the conclusion of this solemn farce, which they had
dignified by the name of a trial.
The evidence concluded, Sir William Berkeley, as Lord President of the
Court, collected the suffrages of its members. It might easily be
anticipated by their gloomy countenances, what was the solemn import of
their judgment. Thomas Ludwell, the secretary of the council, acted as
the clerk, and in a voice betraying much emotion, read the fatal
decision. The sympathizing bystanders, who in awful silence awaited the
result, drew a long breath as though relieved from their fearful
suspense, even by having heard the worst. And Hansford was to die! He
heard with much emotion the sentence which doomed him to a traitor's
death the next day at noon; and those who were near, heard him sob, "My
poor, poor mother!" But almost instantly, with a violent effort he
controlled his feelings, and asked permission to speak.
"Surely," said the Governor, "provided your language be respectful to
the Court, and that you say nothing reflecting on his majesty's
government at home or in the Colony of Virginia."
"These are hard conditions," said Hansford, rising from his seat, "as
with such limitations, I can scarcely hope to justify my conduct. But I
accept your courtesy, even with these conditions. A dying man has at
last but little to say, and but little disposition to mingle again in
the affairs of a world which he must so soon leave. In the short, the
strangely short time allotted to me, I have higher and holier concerns
to interest me. Ere this hour to-morrow, I will have passed from the
scenes of earth to appear before a higher tribunal than yours, and to
answer for the forgotten sins of my past life. But I thank my God, that
while that awful tribunal is higher, it is also juster and more merciful
than yours. Even in this sad moment, however, I cannot forget the
country for which I have lived, and for which I must so soon die. I see
by your countenances that I am already transcending your narrow limits.
But it cannot be treason to pray for her, and as my life has been
devoted to her service, so will my prayers for her welfare ascend with
my petitions for forgiveness.
"I would say a word as to the offence with which I have been charged,
and the evidence on which I have been convicted. That evidence amounts
to the fact that I was in arms, by the authority of the Governor,
against the common enemies of my country. Is this treason? That I was
the bearer of a threatening message to the Governor from General Bacon,
which caused the first flight into Accomac. And here I would say," and
he fixed his eyes full on Alfred Bernard, as he spoke, who endeavoured
to conceal his feelings by a smile of scorn, "that the evidence on this
point has been cruelly, shamefully garbled and perverted. It was never
stated that, while as the minister of another, I bore the message
referred to, I urged the Governor to consider and retract the
proclamation which he had made, and offered my own mediation to restore
peace and quiet to the Colony. Had my advice been taken the beams of
peace would have once more burst upon Virginia, the scenes which are
constantly enacted here, and which will continue to be enacted, would
never have disgraced the sacred name of justice; and the name of Sir
William Berkeley would not be handed down to the execrations of
posterity as a dishonoured knight, and a brutal, bloody butcher."
"Silence!" cried the incensed old Governor, in tones of thunder, "or by
the wounds of God, I'll shorten the brief space which now interposes
between you and eternity. Is this redeeming your promise of respect?"
"I beg pardon," said Hansford, undaunted by the menace. "Excuse me, if I
cannot speak patiently of cruelty and oppression. But let this pass.
That perfidious wretch who would rise above my ruins, never breathed a
word of this, when on the evangelist of Almighty God he was sworn to
speak the truth. But if such evidence be sufficient to convict me of
treason now, why was it not sufficient then? Why, with the same facts
before you, did you, Sir William Berkeley, discharge the traitor in
arms, and now seek his death when disarmed and impotent? One other link
remains in the chain, this feeble chain of evidence. I aided in the
siege of Jamestown, and once more drove the Governor and his fond
adherents from their capital, to their refuge in the Accomac. I cannot,
I will not deny it. But neither can this be treason, unless, indeed, Sir
William Berkeley possesses in his own person the sacred majesty of
Virginia. For when he abdicated the government by his first flight from
the soil of Virginia, the sovereign people of the Colony, assembled in
solemn convention, declared his office vacant. In that convention, you,
my judges, well know, for you found it to your cost, were present a
majority of the governor's council, the whole army, and almost the
entire chivalry and talent of the colony. In their name writs were
issued for an assembly, which met under their authority, and the
commission of governor was placed in the hands of Nathaniel Bacon."
"By an unauthorized mob," said Berkeley, unable to restrain his
impatience.
"By an organized convention of sovereign people," returned Hansford,
proudly. "You, Sir William Berkeley, deemed it not an unauthorized mob,
when confiding in your justice, and won by your soft promises, a similar
convention, composed of cavaliers and rich landholders, confided to
your hands, in 1659, the high trust which you now hold. If such a
proceeding were unauthorized then, were you not guilty in accepting the
commission? If authorized, were not the same people competent to bestow
the trust upon another, whom they deemed more worthy to hold it? If this
be so, the insurgents, as you have chosen to call them, were not in arms
against the government at the siege of Jamestown. And thus the last
strand in the coil of evidence, with which you have involved me, is
broken, as withs are severed at the touch of fire. But light as is the
testimony against me, it is sufficient to turn the beam of justice, when
the sword of Brennus is cast into the scale.
"One word more and I am done; for I see you are impatient for the
sacrifice. I had thought that I would have been tried by a jury of my
peers. Such I deemed my right as a British subject. But condemned by the
extraordinary and unwarranted proceedings of this Star Chamber"--
"Silence!" cried Berkeley, again waxing wroth at such an imputation.
"I beg pardon once more," continued Hansford, "I thought the favourite
institution of Charles the First would not have met with so little
favour from such loyal cavaliers. But I demand in the name of Freedom,
in the name of England, in the name of God and Justice, when was Magna
Charta or the Petition of Right abolished on the soil of Virginia? Is
the Governor of Virginia so little of a lawyer that he remembers not the
language of the stout Barons of Runnymede, unadorned in style, but
pregnant with freedom. 'No freeman may be taken or imprisoned, or be
disseised of his freehold or liberties, or his free-customs, or be
outlawed or exiled, or in any manner destroyed, but by the lawful
judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land.' Excuse me, gentlemen,
for repeating to such sage judges so old and hackneyed a fragment of the
law. But until to-day, I had been taught to hold those words as sacred,
and as indeed containing the charter of the liberties of an Englishman.
Alas! it will no longer be hackneyed nor quoted by the slaves of
England, except when they mourn with bitter but hopeless tears, for the
higher and purer freedom of their ruder fathers. Why am I thus arraigned
before a court-martial in time of peace? Am I found in arms? Am I even
an officer or a soldier? The commission which I once held has been torn
from me, and given, as his thirty pieces, to you dissembling Judas, for
the price of my betrayal. But I am done. Your tyranny and oppression
cannot last for ever. The compressed spring will at last recoil with
power proportionate to the force by which it has been restrained--and
freed posterity will avenge on a future tyrant my cruel and unnatural
murder."
Hansford sat down, and Sir William Berkeley, flushed with indignation,
replied,
"I had hoped that the near approach of death, if not a higher motive,
would have saved us from such treasonable sentiments. But, sir, the
insolence of your manner has checked any sympathy which I might have
entertained for your early fate. I, therefore, have only to pronounce
the judgment of the court; that you be taken to the place whence you
came, and there safely kept until to-morrow noon, when you will be
taken, with a rope about your neck, to the common gallows, and there
hung by the neck until you are dead. And may the Lord Jesus Christ have
mercy on your soul!"
"Amen!" was murmured, in sad whispers, by the hundreds of pale
spectators who crowded around the unhappy prisoner.
"How is this!" cried Hansford, once more rising to his feet, with strong
emotion. "Gentlemen, you are soldiers, as such I may claim you as
brethren, as such you should be brave and generous men. On that
generosity, in this hour of peril, I throw myself, and ask as a last
indulgence, as a dying favour, that I may die the death of a soldier,
and not of a felon."
"You have lived a traitor's, not a soldier's life," said Berkeley, in an
insulting tone. "A soldier's life is devoted to his king and country;
yours to a rebel and to treason. You shall die the death of a traitor."
"Well, then, I have done," said Hansford, with a sigh, "and must look to
Him alone for mercy, who can make the felon's gallows as bright a
pathway to happiness, as the field of glory."
Many a cheek flushed with indignation at the refusal of the governor to
grant this last petition of a brave man. A murmur of dissatisfaction
arose from the crowd, and even some sturdy loyalists were heard to
mutter, "shame." The other members of the court were seen to confer
together, and to remonstrate with the governor.
"'Fore God, no," said Berkeley, in a whisper to his advisers. "Think of
the precedent it will establish. Traitor he has lived, and as far as my
voice can go, traitor he shall die. I suppose the sheep-killing hound,
and the egg-sucking cur, will next whine out their request to be shot
instead of hung."
So great was the influence of Berkeley, over the minds of the court,
that, after a feeble remonstrance, the petition of the prisoner was
rejected. Old Beverley alone, was heard to mutter in the ear of Philip
Ludwell, that it was a shame to deny a brave man a soldier's death, and
doom him to a dog's fate.
"And for all this," he added, "its a damned hard lot, and blast me, but
I think Hansford to be worth in bravery and virtue, fifty of that
painted popinjay, Bernard, whose cruelty is as much beyond his years as
his childish vanity is beneath them."
"Well, gentlemen, I trust you are now satisfied," said Berkeley.
"Sheriff, remove your prisoner, and," looking angrily around at the
malecontents, "if necessary, summon an additional force to assist you."
The officer, however, deemed no such precaution necessary, and the
hapless Hansford was conducted back to his cell under the same guard
that brought him thence; there to await the execution on the morrow of
the fearful sentence to which he had been condemned.