The Cavaliers of Virginia, vol. 2 of 2 / or, The Recluse of Jamestown; An historical romance of the Old Dominion

by William Alexander Caruthers

When they arrived within the hall he found the martial tribunal ready assembled for his trial. A long table was placed in the centre of the room, upon which lay swords, caps, and feathers. At the farther end from the entrance sat Sir William Berkley, as president of the court, and on either side some eight or ten of his officers, all clad in the military costume of the day. Their gay doublets had been exchanged for buff coats, surmounted by the gorget alone, for the vambraces, with their concomitants, had been abandoned during the commonwealth. Some of the cavalry and pikemen, indeed, still wore head and back pieces, in the king's army,[12] but the Virginian officers were generally dressed at that time as we have described them.

Among the number of officers now confronting the prisoner, sat Francis Beverly. He seemed perfectly calm and collected, and not in the least aware that there was any impropriety in his sitting in judgment upon the prisoner standing at the foot of the table.

Bacon drew himself up to his utmost height, as he again folded his arms and ran his indignant eye over his accusers and judges; as it rested in its course upon Beverly, a fierce indignation lighted up its clear hazel outlines, but it was only for an instant—his glance wandered on over the other members of the court, while his lip curled in a settled expression of scorn and contempt. The old Cavalier at the head of the board rose in visible agitation—his eyes flashed fire and his hands trembled as he took the paper from the scribe and read the charge against the prisoner.

The merest form of an impartial trial was indecently hastened through. Witnesses were not wanting indeed, and those too, who could testify to every thing the Governor desired, but no time had been allowed the prisoner to procure testimony in his own behalf, or prepare his defence.

The times were perhaps somewhat out of joint; but the state of the colony was by no means such as to require that a prominent citizen, standing high in the affection of his countrymen, should be deprived of those inestimable privileges secured by the laws of England, to every one under accusation of high crimes and misdemeanors; and these laws had been adopted and were in full force in the infant state. At the very outset of the trial, Gen. Bacon objected to the military character of the court, as well as to the indecent haste and the retired nature of the place in which it was held. He contended that his crime, if crime he had committed, was a civil offence, and ought to be tried by the civil tribunals of the country. All these weighty objections were answered by a waive of the president's hand, and the trial proceeded to its previously well known conclusion, without farther interruption.

Before the final vote was taken upon the question whether the prisoner was guilty of high treason or not, he was ordered to be removed from the court-room for a few moments, in order that their deliberations might be uninterrupted. As the guard marched the prisoner through the house into the back court of the establishment, his step still proud and his carriage elevated with the sense of conscious rectitude, he was at once brought to a stand by the sight of a spectacle which sent the blood, chilled with horror, back to his heart. This was a gibbet or gallows, erected in the very court to which they were conducting him, and upon it hung two of his own soldiers![13] All evidence of vitality had long since departed, and their bodies swung round and round, under the impulse of the morning breeze, in horrible monotony. Bacon's first sensation was one of unmixed horror, but this was succeeded by indignation; not a thought for his own safety occurred to his mind while under the first impressions of the fearful spectacle. But as fierce indignation stirred up his torpid energies to thoughts of revenge, the means began to present themselves, and then it was that he shook the iron fetters which bound him, in savage and morose despair. Perhaps a chill from some more personal feeling ran through his veins, when he reflected how short had been the passage of his two humble followers from the sloop which had borne them across the bay on the preceding night, to eternity. They had evidently suffered some hours previous—perhaps during the night. They were the two subaltern officers—selected by himself for his expedition down the river, and chosen for their desperate bravery at the battle of Bloody Run. And now to see their manly proportions ignominiously exposed upon a gibbet, after having been most inhumanly murdered, was more than he could calmly bear. Bitter and unavailing were his reflections as he stood a spectator of this outrage, while his own life hung suspended by a hair.

He was not left long a spectator of this cruel scene; the guard was ordered to present the prisoner again before the court to receive sentence.

When Bacon stood once more at the foot of the table, surrounded by his unrelenting enemies, his countenance evinced a total change. When first he stood in the same place, he had not fully realized his situation; he was stupified with overwatching and fatigue. The young are always slow to apprehend the darker shadows in their own prospective, and instinctively cling to the brighter aspect of events and circumstances, until some sudden calamity or unexpected reverse in their own immediate career, opens their eyes to the stern reality. When such a change is brought immediately before the senses, then indeed the dreadful truth speaks direct to the apprehension. Few criminals at the moment of receiving sentence of death, realize more than a horrid and oppressive sense of present calamity—all hope has not yet entirely forsaken them. But could they see upon the spot a fellow criminal undergoing the last penalty of the law, they would at once realize the truth in all its terrors.

The sight of his unfortunate followers had thus opened the eyes of the youthful general, to the desperate character of his enemies, and the awful fate which immediately awaited him, but it was not fear which now revived his stupified powers to action. His look was bold and daring, while a preternatural brilliancy shot from his proud eye, as the president of the court, with an assumed calmness, pronounced upon him the sentence of death. As the last fatal word fell from the lips of the stern old knight, the prisoner's countenance was rigid, cold and death-like for an instant, as he struggled to master his rebellious and scornful feelings into such a state of discipline as would enable him to express the little he had to say, with clearness and precision.