“Wormsloe is one of the most agreeable Spots I ever saw, and the Improvements of that ingenious Man are very extraordinary: He commands a Company of Marines who are quarter’d in Huts near his House, which is also a tolerable defensible Place with small Arms. From the House there is a Vista of near three Miles cut thro’ the Woods to Mr. Whitefield’s Orphan House, which has a very fine Effect on the Sight.”[274]
After concluding his visit to Savannah, this gentleman “set out in one of Captain Jones’s Scout Boats mann’d by a Party of his Marine Company, and had a very pleasant Passage to Fort Frederick on the Island of Port Royal in South Carolina.”[275]
Noble Jones, the proprietor of Wormsloe, was a Lieutenant commanding thirty men,—volunteers and enlisted from Savannah,—in General Oglethorpe’s expedition against St. Augustine. He was subsequently assigned to the command of a scout and guard boat and a company of marines to watch the “Narrows at Skedoway” and the “Inlets of the near adjoining Sea;” more especially “those near him of Wassaw and Ussuybaw, lest any surprise should happen.” His guard-boat was armed “with a small swivel Gun” in the bow; and, in February, 1741, upon the appearance of a Spanish Privateer on the coast, “One of our smartest Pieces of Cannon,” says Stephens, “carrying a four Pound Ball, and well mounted,” was delivered to him to assist in the coast defense.[276]
At Wormsloe may still be seen the remains of the Tabby Fortification constructed by Captain Noble Jones. The outline of the work and its general features are well preserved, and constitute, perhaps, the most unique and interesting historical ruin on the Georgia coast.
With all its wealth of magnificent live-oaks, palmettoes, magnolias, and cedars; with its quiet, gentle views, balmy airs, soft sunlight, inviting repose, and pleasant traditions, this beautiful residence has at all times remained in the possession and ownership of the descendants of the original proprietor. Mr. G. W. J. DeRenne now guards the spot with all the tender care and devotion of a most loyal son, and to the memories of the past has added literary and cultivated associations in the present, which impart new charms to the name of Wormsloe.
In this youthful country, so careless of and indifferent to the memories of other days,—so ignorant of the value of monuments and the impressive lessons of antiquity,—where no law of primogeniture encourages in the son the conservation of the abode and heirlooms of his fathers,—where new fields, cheap lands, and novel enterprises at remote points are luring the loves of succeeding generations from the gardens which delighted, the hoary oaks which sheltered, and the fertile fields which nourished their ancestors,—where paternal estates are constantly alienated at public and private sales,—landed acquisitions are placed at the mercy of speculative strangers, and family treasures, established inheritances, and old homesteads are seldom preserved. Thus it comes to pass that ancestral graves lie neglected, abodes once noted for refinement, intelligence, virtue, and hospitality lose their identity in the ownership of strangers, and traditions worthy of transmission, are forgotten amid the selfish engagements of an alien present.
The utilitarian may smile at this, the Republican rejoice in it as a logical sequence of his cherished theories, and the disciples of Benjamin Franklin pronounce in favor of such a condition of affairs, but there is a deal of sadness about it nevertheless; and if this order of things obtain in the coming years as it has in those which are gone, America will continue to be largely a land without permanent homes,—a country devoid of ancestral monuments.
In planting colonies where proper preliminary surveys have not been made, and where the founders are compelled in large measure to grope their way in selecting points for earliest occupancy, errors of judgement will occur, and changes will be necessitated upon a more intimate acquaintance with the territory and during the progress of development. Locations at first deemed essential become subordinate to others, and sometimes prove of no value. Mistakes are committed with regard to the importance of streams, lines of communication, and the desirability of permanent seats. Defensive positions are rendered useless as the tide of human life advances. Barren fields are exchanged for others possessing greater fertility. Diseases are developed at certain points which compel their abandonment.
Settlements increase to the annihilation or absorption of others in their vicinity. The possessions of the many become concentrated in the ownership of the few. Towns perish for lack of support. Thus nothing is more common than to observe, amid the changes consequent upon the development of new plantations, a mortality among villages and settlements for which, at the outset, growth and lasting prosperity were confidently anticipated.
“It hath been a great endangering to the health of some plantations,” says Lord Bacon, “that they have built along the sea and rivers in marish and unwholesome grounds; therefore though you begin there to avoid carriage and other like discommodities, yet build still rather upwards from the stream, than along.”