CHAPTER XIV.

"There was a sound of revelry by night- And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spoke again, And all went merry as a marriage bell."

_Childe Harold._

The ball at Sir William Berkeley's palace was of that character, which, in the fashionable world, is described as brilliant; and was long remembered by those who attended it, as the last scene of revelry that was ever known in Jamestown. The park or lawn which we have described was brilliantly illuminated with lamps and transparencies hung from the trees. The palace itself was a perfect blaze of light. The coaches of the cavaliers rolled in rapid succession around the circular path that led to the palace, and deposited their fair burdens, and then rolled rapidly away to await the breaking up of the ball. Young beaux, fairly glittering with gold embroidery, with their handsome doublets looped with the gayest ribbons, and their hair perfumed and oiled, and plaited at the sides in the most captivating love-knots; their cheeks beplastered with rouge, and their moustache carefully trimmed and brushed, pa.s.sed gracefully to and fro, through the vast hall, and looked love to soft eyes that spake again. And those young eyes, how brightly did they beam, and how freshly did the young cheeks of their lovely owners blush, even above the rouge with which they were painted, as they met the admiring glance of some favored swain bent lovingly upon them! How graceful, too, the att.i.tude which these fair maidens a.s.sumed, with their long trails sweeping and fairly carpetting the floor, or when held up by their tapering fingers, how proudly did they step, as they crossed the room to salute the stately and dignified, but now smiling Lady Frances Berkeley-and she the queenly centre of that vast throng, leaning upon the arm of her n.o.ble and venerable husband, with what grace and dignity she bowed her turbaned head in response to their salutations; and with what a majestic air of gratified vanity did she receive the courteous gratulations of the chivalrous cavaliers as they wished her many returns of the happy day, and hoped that the hours of her life would be marked by the lapse of diamond sands, while roses grew under her feet!

Sir William Berkeley, of whose extraordinary character we know far more than of any of the earlier governors of Virginia, was now in the evening of his long and prosperous life. "For more than thirty years he had governed the most flourishing country the sun ever shone upon,"[25] and had won for himself golden opinions from all sorts of people. Happy for him, and happy for his fame, if he had pa.s.sed away ere he had become "encompa.s.sed," as he himself expresses it, "with rebellion, like waters." To all he had endeared himself by his firmness of character and his suavity of manner. In 1659, he was called, by the spontaneous acclaim of the people of Virginia, to a.s.sume the high functions of the government, of which he had been deprived during the Protectorate, and, under his lead, Virginia was the first to throw off her allegiance to the Protector, and to declare herself the loyal realm of the banished Charles. Had William Berkeley died before the troublous scenes which now awaited him, and which have cast so dark a shadow upon his character, scarce any man in colonial history had left so pure a name, or been mourned by sincerer tears. Death is at last the seal of fame, and over the grave alone can we form a just estimate of human worth and human virtue.

In person he was all that we delight to imagine in one who is truly great. Age itself had not bent his tall, majestic figure, which rose, like the form of the son of Kish, above all the people. His full black eye was clear and piercing, and yet was often softened by a benevolent expression. And this was the true nature of his heart, formed at once for softness and for rigour. His mouth, though frequently a pleasant smile played around it, expressed the inflexible firmness and decision of his character. No man to friends was more kind and gentle; no man to a foe was more relentless and vindictive. The only indication of approaching age was in the silver colour of his hair, which he did not conceal with the recently introduced periwig, and which, combed back to show to its full advantage his fine broad brow, fell in long silvery cl.u.s.ters over his shoulders.

Around him were gathered the prominent statesmen of the colony, members of the Council and of the House of Burgesses, conversing on various subjects of political interest. Among those who chose this rational mode of entertainment was our old friend, Colonel Henry Temple, who met many an old colleague among the guests, and everywhere received the respect and attention which his sound sense, his sterling worth, and his former services so richly deserved.

The Lady Frances, too, withdrawing her arm from that of her husband, engaged in elegant conversation with the elderly dames who sought her society; now conversing with easy dignity with the accomplished wives of the councillors; now, with high-bred refinement, overlooking the awkward blunders of some of the plainer matrons, whose husbands were in the a.s.sembly; and now smiling good-humouredly at the old-fashioned vanity and a.s.sumed dignity of Mrs. Temple. The comparison of the present order of things with that to which she had been accustomed in her earlier days, formed, as usual, the chief theme of this good lady's discourse.

But, to the attentive observer, the glance of pride with which from time to time she looked at her daughter, who, with graceful step and glowing cheek, was joining in the busy dance, plainly showed that, in some respects at least, Mrs. Temple had to acknowledge that the bright present had even eclipsed her favourite past.

Yes, to the gay sound of music, amid the bright b.u.t.terflies of fashion, who flew heartlessly through the mazes of the graceful dance, Virginia Temple moved-with them, but not of them. She had not forgotten Hansford, but she had forgotten self, and, determined to please her mother, she had sought to banish from her heart, for the time, the sorrow which was still there. She had come to the ball with Bernard, and he, seeing well the effort she had made, bent all the powers of his gifted mind to interest her thoughts, and beguile them from the absorbing subject of her grief. She attributed his efforts to a generous nature, and thanked him in her heart for thus devoting himself to her pleasure. She had attempted to return his kindness by an a.s.sumed cheerfulness, which gradually became real and natural, for shadows rest not long upon a young heart. They fly from the blooming garden of youth, and settle themselves amid the gloom and ruins of h.o.a.ry age. And never had Alfred Bernard thought the fair girl more lovely, as, with just enough of pensive melancholy to soften and not to sadden her heart, she moved among the gay and thoughtless throng around her.

The room next to the ball-room was appropriated to such of the guests as chose to engage in cards and dice; for in this, as in many other respects, the colony attempted to imitate the vices of the mother country. It is true the habit of gaming was not so recklessly extravagant as that which disgraced the corrupt court of Charles the Second, and yet the old planters were sufficiently bold in their risks, and many hundreds of pounds of tobacco often hung upon the turn of the dice-box or the pip[26] of a card. Seated around the old fashioned card-table of walnut, were sundry groups of those honest burgesses, who were ready enough in the discharge of their political functions in the state-house, but after the adjournment were fully prepared for all kinds of fun. Some were playing at gleek, and, to the uninitiated, incomprehensible was the jargon in which the players indulged. "Who'll buy the stock?" cries the dealer. "I bid five"-"and I ten"-"and I fifty." Vie, revie, surrevie, capote, double capote, were the terms that rang through the room, as the excited gamesters, with anxious faces, sorted and examined their cards. At another table was primero, or thirty-one, a game very much resembling the more modern game of vingt-et-un; and here, too, loud oaths of "d.a.m.n the luck," escaped the lips of the betters, as, with twenty-two in their hands, they drew a ten, and burst with a pip too many. Others were moderate in their risks, rattled the dice at tra-trap, and playing for only an angel a game, smoked their pipes sociably together, and talked of the various measures before the a.s.sembly.

Thus the first hours of the evening pa.s.sed rapidly away, when suddenly the sound of the rebecks[27] ceased in the ball-room, the gaming was arrested in an instant, and at the loud cry of hall-a-hall,[28] the whole company repaired to the long, broad porch, crowding and pushing each other, the unwary cavaliers treading on the long trains of the fair ladies, and receiving a well-merited frown for their carelessness. The object of this general rush was to see the masque, which was to be represented in the porch, illuminated and prepared for the purpose. At one end of the porch a stage was erected, with all the simple machinery which the ingenuity of the youth of Jamestown could devise, to aid in the representation-the whole concealed for the present from the view of the spectators by a green baize curtain.

The object of the masque, imitated from the celebrated court masques of the seventeenth century, which reflected so much honour on rare Ben Jonson, and aided in establishing the early fame of John Milton, was to celebrate under a simple allegory the glories of the Restoration. Alfred Bernard, who had witnessed such a representation in England, first suggested the idea of thus honouring the birth-night of the Lady Frances, and the suggestion was eagerly taken hold of by the loyal young men of the little colonial capital, who rejoiced in any exhibition that might even faintly resemble the revels to which their loyal ancestors, before the revolution, were so ardently devoted.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] This is his own language.

[26] Pip signified the spot on a card.

[27] Fiddles.

[28] The cry of the herald for silence at the beginning of the masque.

CHAPTER XV.

"Then help with your call For a hall, a hall!

Stand up by the wall, Both good-men and tall, We are one man's all!"

_The Gipsey Metamorphosea._

With the hope that a description of the sports and pastimes of their ancestors may meet with like favour from the reader, we subjoin the following account of this little masque which was prepared for the happy occasion by Alfred Bernard, aided by the grave chaplain, Arthur Hutchinson, and performed by some of the gay gallants and blooming damsels of old Jamestown. We flatly disclaim in the outset any partic.i.p.ation in the resentment or contempt which was felt by these loyal Virginians towards the puritan patriots of the revolution.

The curtain rises and discovers the genius of True Liberty, robed in white, with a wreath of myrtle around her brow; holding in her right hand a sceptre entwined with myrtle, as the emblem of peace, and in her left a sprig of evergreen, to represent the fabled Moly[29] of Ulysses.

As she advances to slow and solemn music, she kneels at an altar clothed with black velvet, and raising her eyes to heaven, she exclaims:-

"How long, oh Heaven! shall power with impious hand In cruel bondage bind proud Britain's land, Or heresy in fair Religion's robe Usurp her empire and control the globe!- Hypocrisy in true Religion's name Has filled the land of Britain long with shame, And Freedom, captive, languishes in chains, While with her sceptre, Superst.i.tion reigns.

Restore, oh Heaven! the reign of peace and love, And let thy wisdom to thy people prove That Freedom too is governed by her rules,- No toy for children, and no game for fools;- Freed from restraint the erring star would fly Darkling, and guideless, through the untravelled sky- The stubborn soil would still refuse to yield The whitening harvest of the fertile field; The wanton winds, when loosened from their caves, Would drive the bark uncertain through the waves This magnet lost, the sea, the air, the world, To wild destruction would be swiftly hurled!

And say, just Heaven, oh say, is feeble man Alone exempt from thy harmonious plan?

Shall he alone, in dusky darkness grope, Free from restraint, and free, alas! from hope?

Slave to his pa.s.sions, his unbridled will, Slave to himself, and yet a freeman still?

No! teach him in his pride to own that he Can only in obedience be free- That even he can only safely move, When true to loyalty, and true to love."

As she speaks, a bright star appears at the farther end of the stage, and ascending slowly, at length stands over the altar, where she kneels.

Extending her arm towards the star, she rises and cries in triumph:-

"I hail the sign, pure as the starry gem, Which rested o'er the babe of Bethlehem- My prayer is heard, and Heaven's sublime decree Will rend our chains, and Britain shall be free!"

Then enters the embodiment of Puritanism, represented in the peculiar dress of the Roundheads-with peaked hat, a quaint black doublet and cloak, rigidly plain, and cut in the straight fashion of the sect; black Flemish breeches, and grey hose; huge square-toed shoes, tied with coa.r.s.e leather thongs; and around the waist a buff leather belt, in which he wears a sword. He comes in singing, as he walks, one of the Puritan versions, or rather perversions of the Psalms, which have so grossly marred the exquisite beauty of the original, and of which one stanza will suffice the reader:-

"Arise, oh Lord, save me, my G.o.d, For thou my foes hast stroke, All on the cheek-bone, and the teeth Of wicked men hast broke."[30]

Then standing at some distance from the altar, he rolls up his eyes, till nothing but the whites can be seen, and is exercised in prayer.

With a smile of bitter contempt the genius of True Liberty proceeds:-

"See where he comes, with visage long and grim, Whining with nasal tw.a.n.g his impious hymn!

See where he stands, nor bows the suppliant knee, He apes the Publican, but acts the Pharisee- s.n.a.t.c.hing the sword of just Jehovah's wrath, And d.a.m.ning all who leave _his_ th.o.r.n.y path.

Now by this wand which Hermes, with a smile, Gave to Ulysses in the Circean isle, I will again exert the power divine, And change to Britons these disgusting swine."

She waves the sprig of Moly over the head of the Puritan three or four times, who, sensible of the force of the charm, cries out:-

"Hah! what is this! strange feelings fill my heart; Avaunt thee, tempter! I defy thy art- Up, Israel! hasten to your tents, and smite These sons of Belial, and th' Amalekite,- Philistia is upon us with Goliah, Come, call the roll from twelfth of Nehemiah,[31]

Gird up your loins and buckle on your sword, Fight with your prayers, your powder, and the word.

How, General 'Faint-not,'[32] has your spirit sunk?

Let not G.o.d's soldier yield unto a Monk."[33]

Then, as the charm increases, he continues in a feebler voice:

"Curse on the tempter's art! that heathenish Moly Has in an instant changed my nature wholly; The past, with all its triumphs, is a trance, My legs, once taught to kneel, incline to dance, My voice, which to some holy psalm belongs, Is twisting round into these carnal songs.

Alas! I'm lost! New thoughts my bosom swell; Habakuk, Barebones, Cromwell, fare ye well.

Break up conventicles, I do insist, Sing the doxology and be dismissed."

As he finishes the last line, the heavy roll of thunder is heard, and suddenly the doors of a dungeon in the background fly open, from which emerges the impersonation of Christmas, followed by the Queen of May.

Christmas is represented by a jolly, round-bellied, red-nosed, laughing old fellow, dressed in pure white. His hair is thickly powdered, and his face red with rouge. In his right hand he holds a huge mince-pie, which ever and anon he gnaws with exquisite humour, and in his left is a bowl of generous wa.s.sail, from which he drinks long and deeply. His brows are twined with misletoe and ivy, woven together in a fantastic wreath, and to his hair and different parts of his dress are attached long pendants of gla.s.s, to represent icicles. As he advances to the right of the stage, there descends from the awning above an immense number of small fragments of white paper, subst.i.tutes for snow-flakes, with which that part of the floor is soon completely covered.

The Queen of May takes her position on the left. She is dressed in a robe of pure white, festooned with flowers, with a garland of white roses twined with evergreen upon her brow. In her hand is held the May-pole, adorned with ribbons of white, and blue, and red, alternately wrapped around it, and surmounted with a wreath of various flowers. As she a.s.sumes her place, showers of roses descend from above, envelope her in their bloom, and shed a fresh fragrance around the room.

The Genius of Liberty points out the approaching figures to the Puritan, and exclaims:

"Welcome, ye happy children of the earth, Who strew life's weary way with guileless mirth!

Thus Joy should ever herald in the morn On which the Saviour of the world was born, And thus with rapture should we ever bring Fresh flowers to twine around the brow of Spring.

Think not, stern mortal, G.o.d delights to scan, With fiendish joy, the miseries of man; Think not the groans that rend your bosom here Are music to Jehovah's listening ear.

Formed by His power, the children of His love, Man's happiness delights the Sire above; While the light mirth which from his spirit springs Ascends like incense to the King of kings."