CHAPTER I

In which one of the Virginians visits home


On the library wall of one of the most famous writers of America, there
hang two crossed swords, which his relatives wore in the great War of
Independence. The one sword was gallantly drawn in the service of the
king, the other was the weapon of a brave and honoured republican
soldier. The possessor of the harmless trophy has earned for himself a
name alike honoured in his ancestors' country and his own, where genius
such as his has always a peaceful welcome.

The ensuing history reminds me of yonder swords in the historian's study
at Boston. In the Revolutionary War, the subjects of this story, natives
of America, and children of the Old Dominion, found themselves engaged on
different sides in the quarrel, coming together peaceably at its
conclusion, as brethren should, their love ever having materially
diminished, however angrily the contest divided them. The colonel in
scarlet, and the general in blue and buff, hang side by side in the
wainscoted parlour of the Warringtons, in England, where a descendant of
one of the brothers has shown their portraits to me, with many of the
letters which they wrote, and the books and papers which belonged to
them. In the Warrington family, and to distinguish them from other
personages of that respectable race, these effigies have always gone by
the name of "The Virginians"; by which name their memoirs are christened.