CHAPTER VII
_The Loyal Talbots_
"Your people, son?" she said after a long pause. "Come with me amoment." She drew him into the brilliantly lighted hall. As theyentered, he said to the servant in waiting,--
"See that my bay horse is saddled and brought around at once, and doyou tell Dick to get another horse ready and accompany me; he wouldbetter take the black pony."
"Are you going out, Hilary?"
"Yes, mother, when our conversation is over, if there is time. Ithought to ride over to Colonel Wilton's. The night is pleasant, andthe moon will rise shortly. What were you about to say to me?"
She led him up to the great open fireplace, on the andirons of which ahuge log was blazing and crackling cheerfully. Over the mantel was thepicture of a handsome man in the uniform of a soldier of some twentyyears back.
"Whose face is pictured there, Hilary?"
"My honored father," he answered reverently, but in some surprise.
"And how died he?"
"On the Plains of Abraham, mother, as you well know."
"Fighting for his king?"
"Yes, mother."
"And who is this one?" she said, passing to another picture.
"Sir James Talbot; he struck for his king at Worcester," he volunteered.
"Yes, Hilary; and here is his wife, Lady Caroline Talbot, mygrandmother. She kept the door against the Roundheads while the princeescaped from her castle, to which he had fled after the battle. Andover there is Lord Cecil Talbot, her father; he fell at Naseby. Therein that corner is another James, his brother, one of Prince Rupert'smen, wounded at Marston Moor. Here is Sir Hilary, slain at the Boyne;and this old man is Lord Philip, your great-uncle. He was out in the'45, and was beheaded. These are your people, Hilary," she said,standing very straight, her head thrown back, her eyes aflame withpride and determination, "and these struck, fought, lived, and died fortheir king. I could bear to see you dead," she laid her hand upon herheart in sudden fear at the idea, in spite of her brave words, "but Icould not bear to see you a rebel. Think again. You will not sodecide?" She said it bravely; it was her final appeal, and as she madeit she knew that it was useless. The sceptre had departed out of herhand.
He smiled sadly at her, but shook his head ominously. "Mother, do youknow these last fought for Stuart pretenders against the house ofHanover? George III., in your creed, has no right to the place heholds. Do I not then follow my ancestors in taking the field againsthim?"
"Ah, my child, 't is an unworthy subterfuge. They did fight for thehouse of Stuart, God bless it! It was king against king then, and atleast they fought for royalty, for a king; but now the house of Stuartis gone; the new king occupies the throne undisputed, and ourallegiance is due to him. These unfortunate people who are fightinghere strive to create a republic where all men shall be equal! Saidthe sainted martyr Charles on the scaffold, ''T is no concern of thecommon people's how they are governed.' A common man equal to aTalbot! Fight, my son, if you must; but oh, fight for the king, evenan usurper, before a republic, a mob in which so-called equality standsin very unstable equilibrium,--fight for the rightful ruler of theland, not against him."
"Mother, if I am to believe the opinions of those whom I have beentaught to respect, the rightful rulers of this colony, of our country,of any country, are the people who inhabit it."
"And who says that, pray, my boy?"
"Mr. Henry."
"And do you mean to tell me, a Talbot, that you have been taught tolook up to men of the social stamp of Patrick Henry, or to respecttheir opinions?" she said with ineffable disdain.
"Mother, the logic of events has forced all men to do so. Had youheard his speeches before the Burgesses at Williamsburg, you would havethought that he was second to no man in the colony, or in the worldbeside; but if he be not satisfactory, there is his excellency GeneralWashington."
"Mr. Washington," she replied with an emphasis on the "Mr." "Nowthere, I grant you, is a man," she said reluctantly. "I cannotunderstand the perversion of his destiny or the folly of his course."
"And, mother, you know his family was as loyal as our own. One of hisforefathers held Worcester for King Charles with the utmost gallantryand resolution. And he had as a companion in arms in that braveattempt Sir George Talbot, one of our ancestors. There is an examplefor you. I have often heard you speak with the greatest respect ofGeorge Washington."
"It is true, my son," she replied honestly, "but I am at a loss tofathom his motive. What can it be?"
"Mother, I am persuaded of the purity of his motives; his actionsspring from the very highest sense of his personal obligation to thecause of liberty."
"'Liberty, liberty,' 't is a weak word when matched with loyalty. Butbe this as it may, my son, it is beside the question. Our family,these men and women who look down upon us, all fought for principles ofroyalty. It makes no difference whether or no they fought for oragainst one or another king, so long as it was a king they fought for.Such a thing as a democracy never entered their heads. And if you takethis course, you will be false to every tradition of our past. In myopinion, the people are not fit to govern, and you will find it so. Inthe impious attempt that is being made to reverse what I conceive to bethe divinely appointed polity and law of God, disaster must be the onlyend."
"Mother, I must follow my convictions in the present rather than anyexamples in the past. But this is a painful discussion. Should we notbest end it? I honor your opinions, I love you, but I must go."
There was a long silence. She broke it. "Well, my child," she said indespair, "you have reached man's estate, and the men of the Talbot racehave ever been accustomed to do as their judgment dictates. If youhave decided to join Washington's rabble and take part among the rebelsin this fratricidal contest, I shall say no more. I cannot furtheroppose you. I cannot give you my blessing--as I might in happiercircumstances--nor can I wish success to your cause. I too am aTalbot, and have my principles, which I must also maintain; but atleast I can gird your sword about you, and express the hope and makethe prayer, as I do, that you may wear and use it honorably; and thathope, if you are true to the traditions of our house, will never bebroken,--I feel sure of that, at least."
The young man bent and kissed his mother, a new light shining in hiseyes. "Mother, I thank you. At least, as far as I am concerned, Iwill endeavor to do my duty honorably in every field. And now I think,with your permission, I will go over and tell Katharine that I have atlast made up my mind and cast my lot in with her--I mean with ourcountry," he said, blushing, but with the thoughtless disregard ofyouth as to the meaning and effect of his words.
"Go, my son, and God be with you!" she said solemnly.
He stepped quickly out on the porch, and, swinging into the saddle ofthe horse which awaited him, with the ease and grace of an accomplishedhorseman, galloped off in the moonlight night followed by the groom.
The little old woman stood rigidly in the doorway a moment, lookingafter her departed son, and then she walked quickly down to a rusticseat on the brow of the hill and sat down heavily, following withstraining eyes and yearning heart his rapidly disappearing figure. Thesame pang that every mother must feel, those who have a son at least,once in her life if no more, came to her heart; all her prayers hadbeen unavailing, her requests unheeded, her pleas and wishesdisregarded. She had an idea, not altogether warranted perhaps, butstill she had it, that the influence was not so much the example ofGeneral Washington, nor the eloquence of Patrick Henry, nor the forceof neighborly example, nor rigid principle, but the influence of asunny head, and a pair of youthful eyes, and a merry laugh, and a youngheart, and a pleading voice. These have always stood in the light of amother since the world began, and these have taken her son from herside. All her hopes gone, her dreams shattered, her sacrifice vain,her love wasted, she bowed her white head upon her thin hands, and weptquietly in the silent night. The deep waters had gone over her soul,and the rare tears of the old
woman bespoke a breaking heart.
For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution Page 8
