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Hansford:

A TALE OF BACON'S REBELLION.




BY ST. GEORGE TUCKER.




    Rebellion! foul dishonouring word--
      Whose wrongful blight so oft has stained
    The holiest cause that, tongue or sword
      Of mortal ever lost or gained.
    How many a spirit, born to bless,
      Hath sank beneath that withering name;
    Whom but a day's, an hour's success,
      Had wafted to eternal fame!
                                      MOORE.




RICHMOND, VA.:
PUBLISHED BY GEORGE M. WEST
BOSTON: PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.
1857.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857,
BY GEORGE M. WEST,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Virginia.




PREFACE.


It is the design of the author, in the following pages, to illustrate
the period of our colonial history, to which the story relates, and to
show that this early struggle for freedom was the morning harbinger of
that blessed light, which has since shone more and more unto the perfect
day.

Most of the characters introduced have their existence in real
history--Hansford lived, acted and died in the manner here narrated, and
a heart as pure and true as Virginia Temple's mourned his early doom.

In one of those quaint old tracts, which the indefatigable antiquary,
Peter Force, has rescued from oblivion, it is stated that Thomas
Hansford, although a son of Mars, did sometimes worship at the shrine of
Venus. It was his unwillingness to separate forever from the object of
his love that led to his arrest, while lurking near her residence in
Gloucester. From the meagre materials furnished by history of the
celebrated rebellion of Nathaniel Bacon the following story has been
woven.

It were an object to be desired, both to author and to reader, that the
fate of Thomas Hansford had been different. This could not be but by a
direct violation of history. Yet the lesson taught in this simple story,
it is hoped, is not without its uses to humanity. Though vice may
triumph for a season, and virtue fail to meet its appropriate reward,
yet nothing can confer on the first, nor snatch from the last, that
substantial happiness which is ever afforded to the mind conscious of
rectitude. The self-conviction which stings the vicious mind would make
a diadem a crown of thorns. The _mens sibi conscia recti_ can make a
gallows as triumphant as a throne. Such is the moral which the author
designs to convey. If a darker punishment awaits the guilty, or a purer
reward is in reserve for the virtuous, we must look for them to that
righteous Judge, whose hand wields at once the sceptre of mercy and the
sword of justice.

And now having prepared this brief preface, to stand like a portico
before his simple edifice, the author would cordially and respectfully
make his bow, and invite his guests to enter. If his little volume is
read, he will be amply repaid; if approved, he will be richly rewarded.




HANSFORD.




CHAPTER 1.

    "The rose of England bloomed on Gertrude's cheek;
    What though these shades had seen her birth? Her sire
    A Briton's independence taught to seek
    Far western worlds."
                        _Gertrude of Wyoming._


Among those who had been driven, by the disturbances in England, to seek
a more quiet home in the wilds of Virginia, was a gentleman of the name
of Temple. An Englishman by birth, he was an unwilling spectator of the
revolution which erected the dynasty of Cromwell upon the ruins of the
British monarchy. He had never been able to divest his mind of that
loyal veneration in which Charles Stuart was held by so many of his
subjects, whose better judgments, if consulted, would have prompted them
to unite with the revolutionists. But it was a strong principle with
that noble party, who have borne in history the distinguished name of
Cavaliers, rarely to consult the dictates of reason in questions of
ancient prejudice. They preferred rather to err blindly with the long
line of their loyal forbears in submission to tyranny, than to subvert
the ancient principles of government in the attainment of freedom. They
saw no difference between the knife of the surgeon and the sword of the
destroyer--between the wholesome medicine, administered to heal, and the
deadly poison, given to destroy.

Nor are these strong prejudices without their value in the
administration of government, while they are absolutely essential to the
guidance of a revolution. They <DW44> and moderate those excesses which
they cannot entirely control, and even though unable to avoid the
_descensus Averni_, they render that easy descent less fatal and
destructive. Nor is there anything in the history of revolutions more
beautiful than this steady adherence to ancient principles--this
faithful devotion to a fallen prince, when all others have forsaken him
and fled. While man is capable of enjoying the blessings of freedom, the
memory of Hampden will be cherished and revered; and yet there is
something scarcely less attractive in the disinterested loyalty, the
generous self-denial, of the devoted Hyde, who left the comforts of
home, the pride of country and the allurements of fame, to join in the
lonely wanderings of the banished Stuart.

When at last the revolution was accomplished, and Charles and the hopes
of the Stuarts seemed to sleep in the same bloody grave, Colonel Temple,
unwilling longer to remain under the government of a usurper, left
England for Virginia, to enjoy in the quiet retirement of this infant
colony, the peace and tranquillity which was denied him at home. From
this, the last resting place of the standard of loyalty, he watched the
indications of returning peace, and with a proud and grateful heart he
hailed the advent of the restoration. For many years an influential
member of the House of Burgesses, he at last retired from the busy
scenes of political life to his estate in Gloucester, which, with a
touching veneration for the past, he called Windsor Hall. Here, happy in
the retrospection of a well spent life, and cheered and animated by the
affection of a devoted wife and lovely daughter, the old Loyalist looked
forward with a tranquil heart to the change which his increasing years
warned him could not be far distant.

His wife, a notable dame of the olden time, who was selected, like the
wife of the good vicar, for the qualities which wear best, was one of
those thrifty, bountiful bodies, who care but little for the government
under which they live, so long as their larders are well stored with
provisions, and those around them are happy and contented. Possessed of
a good mind, and of a kind heart, she devoted herself to the true
objects of a woman's life, and reigned supreme at home. Even when her
husband had been immersed in the cares and stirring events of the
revolution, and she was forced to hear the many causes of complaint
urged against the government and stoutly combatted by the Colonel, the
good dame had felt far more interest in market money than in ship
money--in the neatness of her own chamber, than in the purity of the
Star Chamber--and, in short, forgot the great principles of political
economy in her love for the more practical science of domestic economy.
We have said that at home Mrs. Temple reigned supreme, and so indeed she
did. Although the good Colonel held the reins, she showed him the way to
go, and though he was the nominal ruler of his little household, she was
the power behind the throne, which even the throne submissively
acknowledged to be greater than itself.

Yet, for all this, Mrs. Temple was an excellent woman, and devoted to
her husband's interests. Perhaps it was but natural that, although with
a willing heart, and without a murmur, she had accompanied him to
Virginia, she should, with a laudable desire to impress him with her
real worth, advert more frequently than was agreeable to the heavy
sacrifice which she had made. Nay more, we have but little doubt that
the bustle and self-annoyance, the flurry and bluster, which always
attended her domestic preparations, were considered as a requisite
condiment to give relish to her food. We are at least certain of this,
that her frequent strictures on the dress, and criticisms on the manners
of her husband, arose from her real pride, and from her desire that to
the world he should appear the noble perfection which he was to her.
This the good Colonel fully understood, and though sometimes chafed by
her incessant taunts, he knew her real worth, and had long since learned
to wear his fetters as an ornament.

Since their arrival in Virginia, Heaven had blessed the happy pair with
a lovely daughter--a bliss for which they long had hoped and prayed, but
hoped and prayed in vain. If hope deferred, however, maketh the heart
sick, it loses none of its freshness and delight when it is at last
realized, and the fond hearts of her parents were overflowing with love
for this their only child. At the time at which our story commences,
Virginia Temple (she was called after the fair young colony which gave
her birth) had just completed her nineteenth year. Reared for the most
part in the retirement of the country, she was probably not possessed of
those artificial manners, which disguise rather than adorn the gay
butterflies that flutter in the fashionable world, and which passes for
refinement; but such conventional proprieties no more resemble the
innate refinement of soul which nature alone can impart, than the
plastered rouge of an old faded dowager resembles the native rose which
blushes on a healthful maiden's cheek. There was in lieu of all this, in
the character of Virginia Temple, a freshness of feeling and artless
frankness, and withal a refined delicacy of sentiment and expression,
which made the fair young girl the pride and the ornament of the little
circle in which she moved.

Under the kind tuition of her father, who, in his retired life,
delighted to train her mind in wholesome knowledge, she possessed a
great advantage over the large majority of her sex, whose education, at
that early period, was wofully deficient. Some there were indeed (and in
this respect the world has not changed much in the last two centuries),
who were tempted to sneer at accomplishments superior to their own, and
to hint that a book-worm and a bluestocking would never make a useful
wife. But such envious insinuations were overcome by the care of her
judicious mother, who spared no pains to rear her as a useful as well as
an accomplished woman. With such a fortunate education, Virginia grew up
intelligent, useful and beloved; and her good old father used often to
say, in his bland, gentle manner, that he knew