The meeting at Warren's house.
In such a state of things we can imagine what a storm was raised when Governor Harvey removed from office the able and popular secretary of state, William Claiborne, and appointed one Richard Kemp in his place. One lively gleam of vituperation lights up the grave pages of the colonial records, when Kev. Anthony Panton called Mr. Kemp a "jackanapes," and told him that he was "unfit for the place of secretary," and that "his hair-lock was tied up with ribbon as old as St. Paul's." We shall hereafter see how the outraged secretary nursed his wrath; what he might have done in its freshness was prevented by a sudden revolution. The assembly drew up a protest against the king's attempts at monopolizing the tobacco trade, and Harvey refused to transmit the protest to England. About the same time the news arrived of the seizing of Claiborne's ship in Maryland waters. On the petition of many of the people, a meeting of the assembly was called for May 7, to receive complaints against Sir John Harvey.[139] In the mean time, on April 27, an indignation meeting was held at the house of William Warren, in York, where the principal speakers were Nicholas Martian, formerly member of the House of Burgesses for Kent Island, Francis Pott, the doctor's brother, and William English, sheriff of York County. The house where this meeting was held in 1635 seems to have stood on or near the site of the house afterward owned by Augustine Moore, where in 1781 the surrender of Lord Cornwallis was arranged; and by a curious coincidence the speaker Nicholas Martian was a direct ancestor both of George Washington, who commanded the army of the United States, and of Thomas Nelson, who commanded the forces of Virginia, on that memorable occasion.[140]
Scene in the council.
Harvey deposed.
Next morning Martian, Pott, and English were arrested, and when they asked the reason why, Governor Harvey politely told them that they "should know at the gallows." When the council met, the wrathful governor strode up and down the room, demanding that the prisoners be instantly put to death by martial law, but the council insisted that no harm should come to them without a regular trial. Then Harvey with a baleful frown put the question after the manner of Richard III., "What do they deserve that have gone about to dissuade the people from their obedience to his Majesty's substitute?" A young member, George Menefie, replied with adroit sarcasm that he was too young a lawyer to be ready with "a suddain opinion" upon such a question. Turning savagely upon him, Sir John asked what all the fuss was about. "Because of the detaining of the assembly's protest," said Menefie. Then the governor struck Menefie heavily upon the shoulder and exclaimed, "I arrest you on suspicion of treason," whereupon Captain John Utie, roughly seizing the governor, answered, "And we the like to you, sir!" Samuel Mathews threw his arms about Harvey and forced him down into a chair, while that connoisseur in beverages, Dr. Pott, waved his hand at the window, and in the twinkling of an eye the house was surrounded by armed men. Mathews then told the helpless governor that he must go to London to answer charges that would be brought against him. In vain did Harvey argue and storm. The sequel may best be told in the words of the terse and bleak entry in the colonial records: "On the 28th of April, 1635, Sir John Harvey thrust out of his government; and Capt. John West acts as governor till the king's pleasure known." When the assembly met on May 7, these proceedings of the council were approved, and commissioners were appointed to go to London and lay their complaints before the king. The indignant Harvey went by the same ship, in the custody of his quondam prisoner, Francis Pott, whom he had been so anxious to hang without ceremony.
Harvey's return.
Such were the incidents of the ever memorable "thrusting out of Sir John Harvey," the first revolutionary scene that was acted in English America. When King Charles heard the story he did not feel quite so much fondness for his trusty and well-beloved burgesses as when he had been seeking commercial favours from them. He would not receive their commissioners or hear a word on their side of the case, and he swore that Sir John Harvey should straightway go back to Virginia as governor, even were it only for one day. But when it came to acting, Charles was not quite so bold as his words. Harvey did not return until nearly two years had elapsed.[141] Then it was the turn of the rebellious councillors—Utie, Mathews, West, Menefie, and Dr. Pott—to go to London and defend themselves, while Harvey wreaked mean-spirited vengeances on his enemies. The day of reckoning had come for Anthony Panton, the minister who had called Mr. Secretary Kemp a "jackanapes," and had, moreover, as it seemed, spoken irreverently of Archbishop Laud. Panton's conduct was judged to be "mutinous, rebellious, and riotous,"[142] his estate was confiscated, and he was banished. A shameful clause was inserted in the sentence, declaring him outlawed if he should venture to return to Virginia, and authorizing anybody to kill him at sight; but Harvey afterward tried to disown this clause, saying that it had been wickedly interpolated by the vindictive Kemp.
Harvey's fall and death.
But Harvey's new lease of power was brief. Enemies to the throne were getting too numerous for comfort, and we may well believe that Charles, having once vindicated his royal dignity in the matter, was quite ready to yield. The statements of the councillors under examination in London no doubt had weight, for no proceedings were taken against them, but in 1639 the king removed Harvey, and sent the excellent Sir Francis Wyatt once more to govern Virginia. Harvey's numerous victims forthwith overwhelmed him with law-suits, his ill-gotten wealth was quickly disgorged, his estates were sold to indemnify Panton and others, and the fallen tyrant, bankrupt and friendless, soon sank into the grave,—such an instance of poetic justice as is seldom realized.
Evelin sent to Kent Island.