University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

The Wild Huntsman

A FEW days after the events recorded in the
last chapter, the denizens of the ancient city were
roused betimes by the sounds of the hunter's horn,
the echoing chorus of the eager hounds, and the
neighing of the fiery steeds, as they were led forth
to the gallant pastime of the chase. The river
and overhanging hills were enveloped in an impenetrable
veil of mist, and the dew settled in a
snowy cloud, upon the hair and castors of the
Cavaliers as they issued from their doors, rubbing
their eyes and preparing to mount the mettled
coursers which pawed the earth and blew thick
volumes of smoke from their expanded nostrils.
These preparations for the enlivening sports of
the field were not confined to a small number of
the civic youth, or to the keener sportsmen among
their elders—all the gentry of the town and colony,
with few exceptions, were assembled on the occasion.

Sir William Berkley wih his numerous guests,

Gideon Fairfax, with his fellows of the Council,
the members of the House of Burgesses, now principally
occupying the hotel of the “Berkley
Arms,” Frank Beverly, Philip Ludwell, Charles
Dudley, with the Harrisons, the Powells, &c. all
now came curvetting into the public square, dressed
in their gay hunting jerkens and neat foraging
caps, some with bugles swinging from their shoulders,
and others with firearms suspended at their
backs.

A stately gray-headed old negro, known by the
cognomen of Congo, was in command of some half
score of more youthful footmen of his own colour,
in the livery of the Governor, each of whom held
the leashes of a pair of hounds.

These, from time to time as old Congo wound a
skilful blast upon his bugle, opened a deafening
chorus, which echoed through the surrounding
forests, and awakened from their slumbers the
drowsy citizens of the town. Many a damsel
peeped from her lattice to catch a glimpse of the
gay Cavaliers as they wheeled into the place of
rendezvous in parties of tens and twenties, all noisy
and boisterous; some with the anticipation of the
promised sports, and others from the more artificial
stimulus of a morning julip. The sound of
Congo's bugle had reverberated through the silent
streets in signal blasts to the grooms of the gentry
at a much earlier hour of the morning, so that
many of the high-born damsels inhabiting the purlieus

of this little court, were also on the alert.
Among these our heroine, awakened by the echoing
chorus of the “hunter's horn,” was already
dressed and smiling from her window, like one of
her own sweet flowers, upon the gay young Cavaliers,
as they passed in review before her.

In an adjoining window was another inhabitant
of the same mansion, roused by the same cheering
notes, but he smiled not upon the joyous throng as
they gathered around the spot occupied by Congo
and his canine favourites, nor yet upon those of
the gay youths who rode up and touched their
beavers respectfully to the smiling maiden as they
singly or in pairs cantered away over the bridge
in pursuit of their day's sport. It was Bacon! his
head bandaged and his countenance pale and wan
from his late illness and loss of blood.

Nevertheless he was dressed, and as eager for
the sport as any youth among them, but exhausted
nature negatived his feeble efforts and longing aspirations,
and he had seated himself at the window
in sullen disappointment. This latter feeling was
in nowise subdued by the sight of Frank Beverly,
already recovered from his slight wounds, dressed
in a scarlet jerken and hunting cap, a bugle over
his shoulder, and mounted upon a noble animal apparently
as eager to display his fine proportions as
his master. The thundering clatter of the chargers'
heels as this numerous cavalcade now passed
in long succession over the bridge before the gazing
citizens, thus untimely awakened from their

slumbers, at length began to die away in silence,
broken at intervals by the measured tramp of an
occasional party of the more staid, older and
less eager Cavaliers, pursuing the main body at
a pace more suited to their age; or by the gallop
of some slumbering sluggard hastening to overtake
his more punctual comrades of the chase. Now
and then a note from the bugle of some overjoyous
youth, as he entered the forest, brought a frown
upon the brow of old Congo, whose look was
turned in silent appeal against these irregular proceedings,
to his master, who rode apart in earnest
conversation with Mr. Fairfax. While our sportsmen
are thus joyously moving on their way to the
appointed spot, we will pursue the thread of the
dialogue between the two dignitaries just alluded
to, as it had reference to the leading personages of
our story.

“Nay, treat not my apprehensions lightly, Fairfax;
is not that youth who leans so disconsolately
out of your window this morning, a proper knight
to catch the errant fancies of a girl of sixteen?”
said Sir William.

“He is indeed a right well-favoured boy,” replied
Mr. Fairfax, “and one calculated to win his
way to a colder heart than that of a maiden near
his own age. Was he not the means of your own
preservation, Sir William, from the knives of
yonder murderous fanatics cooped up in the jail
of the city?”

“Ay!” said his companion, drily, “I grant

him to be all that you say he is; but does not that
enforce more powerfully what I have been saying?
Ought you not under such circumstances, to acquaint
him with the necessity of his finding another
house than your's for his home, where your daughter
is constantly before his eyes, and what is more
important, where he is constantly before her's, not
only with the attractions of his own well-favoured
person, but in the interesting character of her father's
and her uncle's preserver?”

“If the poor youth had ever presumed upon
his position in my family, to make advances to
my daughter, then indeed there might be some
propriety in the course you recommend, Sir William.
But I have observed him closely since our
last conversation on this subject, and I am satisfied
that there is nothing more than fraternal affection
between them.”

“It is very difficult, Fairfax, for the parties
themselves to draw an exact line, where the one
kind of affection ends, and the other begins; the
gradation from mere brotherly regard to love is
so very imperceptible, that the very persons in
whom it takes place are often unconscious of it,
until accident or warning from others forces it
upon their apprehension.”

“But where is the necessity of examining into
these fine distinctions now, Sir William? Where
is the point of the matter.”

“To that it was my purpose to come presently,

but you are always so impetuous and sanguine, if
you will permit me to say so, that I have found it
difficult to discuss this matter in your presence,
with all the coolness and deliberation which ought
to attend the negotiation of an alliance between
the kinsman of his majesty's representative in the
Colony, and the daughter of his nearest relative—
the heiress probably of both their fortunes.”

“But has not the match between Virginia and
Frank been a settled matter for years?”

“Ay, truly, Fairfax, and I am rejoiced that
you remember it; but was it not also agreed, for
wise purposes, that the parties themselves should
know nothing of the contract until Frank became
of age?”

“True, and what then?”

“That time has been passed some months.”

“Indeed!”

“Ay, and what is more important to the happiness
of the young pair, Frank himself has moved
in the business without any prompting from me.
This, you know, was what we desired, and the
very end for which the matter was kept from their
knowledge.”

“He has then proposed himself to Virginia, and
she has doubtless accepted him! All right, all
right, Sir William. I always told you it would
turn out just in this way. Every thing turns out
for the best. You see the advantage of leaving
the young people to themselves.”

“Yes, yes, it has all turned out very happily
in your sanguine imagination; but you run away
with the matter without hearing me out.”

“Did you not say it was all settled? I certainly
understood you so!”

“No, I said nothing like it. I said that my
young kinsman had moved in the business without
my prompting; and I intended to say, if you
had permitted me, that he had authorized me, this
day, to make a formal tender of his hand and fortune
to your daughter, through you; which I
now do.”

“Well, why did you not say so at first, Sir William,
and there could have been no trouble about the
matter. Instead of that, you read me a long lecture
about the danger of harbouring handsome young fellows
in my house generally, concluding in particular
with a recapitulation of the various debts of
gratitude due from me and my family, and yourself,
to poor Bacon. But as far as I am concerned, I give
my hearty consent to the proposed union, and you
may so assure Frank from me, and tell him that he
has nothing more to do, but to appear as every way
worthy in the eyes of Virginia as he does in mine.”

“There, you see, you are coming in your own
immethodical and precipitate way, to the very
point with which I set out. I was merely hazarding
a few observations upon the various prepossessing
qualities of your protegée, and expressing some
fears of the intercourse subsisting between him
and your daughter, with a view to put you on

your guard at once. This was not done with a
view to read you a lecture, as you are pleased to
say, but from the best grounded apprehensions that
things were not proceeding well for our scheme.”

“Is there any ground for the fears you mention?”

“There is, Fairfax! Lady Berkley has often
of late mentioned her apprehensions to me, that
there is a growing and mutual attachment between
your ward and your daughter. Frank has observed
the same thing, and indeed the very proposals
I have just had the honour of making to
you, have probably resulted from a desire on his
part to bring the matter to an eclaircissement at
once.”

“I will speak to Virginia and her mother on the
subject, and my word for it, my daughter will
show you that she knows what is due to her
birth and standing in society. But as to turning
Nathaniel out of my house! I could as soon turn
Virginia herself out. Poor boy, he has a farm of
his own, it is true, but my house has always been
a home to him, and it always shall be, as long as
he continues worthy, and I continue the head
of it.”

“Ay, that farm! There was another ill-advised
piece of generosity; not content with bringing up
a foundling like your own son, you must purchase
him a farm and stock it.”

“Indeed, Governor, you give me credit for
much more generosity than I have exercised. I
purchased him no farm, or if I did, it was merely

as his agent and guardian. He furnished the
means himself.”

“That was very strange! Very strange indeed,
that a youth without occupation, and without any
visible fortune, should purchase and stock one of
the most valuable plantations in the colony.”

As they arrived at this point in their discourse,
they had ascended to the top of one of the highest
hills within many miles of the city. Here they
found the sportsmen who had preceded them,
closely grouped together, and all talking at once,
while Old Cong, (as he was familiarly called by
the youths,) was engaged in slipping the leashes.
One pair after another of the fleet animals snuffed
the air for a moment, and then bounded down the
slope of the hill, carrying their noses close to the
earth, and eagerly questing backward and forward
through the shrubbery; sometimes retracing their
steps to the very point from which they started.

At length one of the foremost of the pack opened
a shrill note as he ran, indicative to the uninitiated,
only of eagerness and impatience in the pursuit
of the game, but Old Congo's experienced eye instantly
brightened up, as with head erect, he uttered
a sharp shrill whoop, and mounting his fleet
courser, he shot down the hill with the fleetness of
the wind, making the woods echo with his merry
hip halloo, as he cheered them on. By this time
the pack were following the leader in the devious
trail on which he was now warm; the whole chorus
sometimes opening in joyous and eager concert as

they came upon the scent, just from the impress of
sly Reynard's feet, and then again relapsing into
silence. These intervals in the cheerful cry announced
the doubt which as yet existed, whether
the trail upon which they had struck was any
thing more than the devious windings made by
the game on emerging from his den, for the purpose,
as the negroes stoutly affirmed, of throwing
his pursuers out. It seemed indeed as if such had
been the intention of the cunning animal, for a plan
of the intricate mazes which the pack were threading,
if laid down upon paper, would very much resemble
a complicated problem in Euclid, or the track
of a ship upon a voyage of discovery in unknown
seas. Meanwhile Old Congo was in the thickest
of them; now cursing one refractory member, and
again cheering a favourite. The Cavaliers stood
in groups—one foot in the stirrup and a hand on
the pummel of the saddle, or smoothing down the
curling mane of their impatient chargers. At
length the problem was solved, and the hounds
were seen coursing in a circle round the brow of
the hill, a continuous yelp from the leader, and an
answering chorus from the pack, announcing to
the waiting gentry, that the game was up. They
instantly mounted, and were presently flying over
the uneven ground at a speed and with a reckless,
yet skilful horsemanship, which bade defiance to all
the perils of the chase. Here one lost his cap by
the limb of a tree; there another measured his
length upon the ground by the stumble of his
charger; the main party speeding apace, regardless
of all, save the fox and his pursuers.

The chase, like misfortune, is a wonderful
leveller of distinctions. Foremost in the field
were the proud Sir William and the keener Fairfax;
one upon either side of Congo, whooping and
yelling in unison, and all distinctions forgotten
for the moment, but the speed and bottom of their
coursers; the countenances of the three alike expressive
of concentrated eagerness in the sport.
To a spectator on the summit of the hill, the scene
was not wanting in picturesque and striking features.
The sun was just peeping over the blue
hills, and lifting the vapours from the valleys beneath,
in all the variegated and beauteous tints of
the rainbow, as they arose in majestic masses and
encircled the summits of the cliffs. The cool and
invigorating breeze of a young summer morn,
as it was wafted through the romantic dales and
glens, came loaded with the richest sweets of forest
and of flower. And when the music of the hounds
was softened in the distance to a faint harmonious
swell upon the air, the feathered tribes, luxuriant in
beauty, warbled forth their richest strains of nature's
melody as they hopped from twig to twig, flashing
their brilliant colours in dazzling contrast to the
pendant dew-drops glittering in the sunbeams.
On the other hand the rays fell in broad sheets of
light upon the tranquil waters of the noble Powhatan,
as seen through the deep green foliage of

the woodland vista. The city too was dimly
visible in the distance, its towering columns of
smoke shooting high up towards heaven through
the clear calm air, and expanding into fleecy waves
as they were lost or scattered in the higher regions
of the atmosphere. These morning glories of a
southern sunrise were, however, lost upon our
sportsmen, who now came sweeping round the
base of the hill from the opposite side, the horses
covered with foam, and riders making the welkin
ring again with their shouts of gladness and excitement.
The dignity of station and of birth, affairs
of state, and all other considerations foreign to
the business of the time, were utterly forgotten and
abandoned, while their late proud possessors vied
with the youngest and the humblest in seizing the
pleasures of the chase. The horses seemed in the
distance as if their bodies were moving through
the air, a foot and a half nearer the ground than
they were wont, their legs nearly invisible; while
their riders bent over their necks as if impatient
even of this headlong speed.

Hitherto the hounds as usual, when in pursuit
of the fox, had moved in the figure of a rude circle,
never departing to any great distance from the
point whence they had started, but moving round
and round the hill; and there was every appearance
that the chase would be thus continued until
the game was either fairly run down, or had gained
the shelter of his hole.

In the present instance, however, an unexpected
reprieve was granted to the hard pressed animal.
The dogs, as they came round the brow of the
hill for the third or fourth time, struck off abruptly
from their regular circuit; the foremost
chargers were reined up, and in a short time the
whole cavalcade was brought to a stand at the
point where the dogs had quitted the track.

The cause of this interruption to the sport was
readily understood by the experienced Cavaliers.
A buck had crossed between the dogs and the fox,
and the former, contrary to their usual discipline
and stanchness, broke off to follow the newest
scent. Many were the imprecations hurled at the
head of Old Congo and his deputies for this misconduct
of their charge, the consequence, as was
affirmed, of their having been set upon the trail of
a buck on the previous Sabbath. It was now,
however, too late to remedy the evil, as Congo's
bugle itself was not sufficient to recall the eager pack.

Firearms were immediately unslung from the
shoulders of such as bore them, and Mr. Fairfax,
as the keenest sportsman, leading the way, nearly
half of the youths were quickly seen following
him up the opposite hill. Sir William Berkley and
such of the company as had already been worn
out, retraced their steps to the picturesque point
from which they had set out, and which has already
been described.

Here some of the footmen, retained for the

purpose, speedily constructed a rude table under
an umbrageous tree, upon which was laid out a
tempting display of cold viands, wines and strong
waters. Horses were now tied to the surrounding
trees, and their riders threw themselves upon the
sward to repose their wearied limbs, and regale
their longing eyes upon the good things which
only awaited the return of their comrades. This
delay seemed likely, however, to prove rather tedious
to the longing appetites of the former, who
had not as yet broken their fast.

Full two hours had elapsed, and yet no token
came of hounds or huntsmen. The patience even
of the formal and ceremonious Sir William began
to flag, and he forthwith ordered the bugles to
sound a recall from the highest spot in the neighbourhood.
In vain the reverberating blasts reechoed
from hill to hill, and from river to cliff; in
vain they paused to listen for the music of the
hounds or an answering signal from the keener
sportsmen. After repeated trials the patience of
the Governor gave way, and having set apart a
share of the provision for their comrades, they
fell upon the tempting display with knife and dagger.
Cups of horn, and silver flagons were speedily
produced, and in a short time their absent
compeers were almost forgotten in the general
destruction of cold capons, tongue and ham.

Towards the conclusion of the repast, the absent
sportsmen began to drop in singly and at

intervals. The bridles of their foaming horses
were thrown to the grooms, and they fell upon
the wine and fowls like famished soldiers, after a
long day's march. Then came a panting hound,
crouching beneath the legs of a horse, with his
tongue hanging from his mouth; then another,
and another, until they had all obeyed the summons
of the bugle.

None of the huntsmen who had returned as yet,
had been in at the death; but it was supposed that
Mr. Fairfax, the only one now missing, had been
more fortunate, as the hounds that came in last
were covered with blood. He was momentarily
expected, but they listened in vain for the sound
of his horn. Old Congo was despatched over the
hills to summon him with his bugle, but he likewise
returned without any tidings of the absent
Cavalier, and without having heard any answering
notes to those of his own horn. Hours were spent
in waiting for him, at first occupied by the younger
Cavaliers in various games and athletic sports, but
as the day waned apace, and still no news of him
arrived, uneasiness began to engross the minds of
his associates.

By the orders of the Governor, the whole Cavalcade
spread themselves, and scoured the forests
for miles in the direction he had been seen to take,
but no answer was returned to their shouts and
bugles, and no token of his presence and safety
was discovered. Occasionally two parties were
brought together by a supposed answer from his

bugle, but it was found to be only the reply of one
scouring party to another.

After a long and fruitless search, they resolved
to hasten to the city, in hopes that he had reached
his home by some other route, and in case this
supposition should prove fallacious it was resolved
that the whole male population should be called out
to the search. The distance was accomplished with
a speed and recklessness quite equal to that with
which they had performed it in the morning, but
with feelings very different. A general and gloomy
silence pervaded their ranks. Gideon Fairfax was
one of the most universally popular Cavaliers in
the Colony; he was generous, hospitable, and sincere,
with his equals, and humane and affable to
his inferiors. His own slaves idolized him, and
would have readily perilled life and limb in defence
either of his person or his reputation.

When the cavalcade arrived at the bridge, their
painful suspense and anxiety were little relieved
by perceiving an immense crowd assembled round
the house of Mr. Fairfax. That some accident
must have befallen him they had too good reason
now to apprehend, else what could have drawn
the multitude together? The arrival of a successful
huntsman, was an affair of too frequent occurrence
at Jamestown to excite the present visible
commotion. The returning and anxious Cavaliers
were soon met by the eager throng, who pressed
around them in crowds, each party demanding of the
other news respecting their absent fellow-citizen.

The assemblage of the crowd around the house
was soon explained by the appearance of his favourite
charger, upon which he had set out in the
morning, so full of health, vigour and animation.
He was held in the midst of the assemblage, his
head-gear broken, the saddle bloody, and his sides
dripping with mud and water, as if he had just
crossed through the river. In this condition he
had presented himself at the stable door where he
was usually kept, without his rider, and this was
all they knew in the city concerning the fate of
the missing horseman. This was enough to excite
the most distracting fears in the minds of his own
family, and the worst apprehensions in those of
his immediate friends and more humble admirers.

Horses and men were speedily volunteered for
the purpose of scouring the whole forest in the
direction of the chase. Many of the Cavaliers
barely dismounted from one horse to mount another;
and in a very few minutes, hundreds of
citizens, some on horseback and others on foot,
had assembled. While they were thus speedily
collecting their forces, a scream from some washerwomen
on the bank of the river, quickly drew
the crowd in that direction. Men, women and children
rushed to the spot with feelings of anxiety
and alarm, wrought to the highest pitch. They
were not left long in doubt, for a boat was just
nearing the shore, in which were two men rowing,
while another supported upon his lap the
head of the still living but wounded Cavalier.