A Century Too Soon: The Age of Tyranny

by John R. Musick

"My provocation made my husband join in the cause for which Bacon contended. But for me, he had never done what he has done. Since what is done," she sobbed, falling on her knees in an attitude of supplication, with her head bowed and face covered with her hands, "was done by my means, I am most guilty; let me bear the punishment, let me be hanged, but let my husband be pardoned."

The angry governor gazed on her for a moment with eyes which danced in fury; then he cried:

"Away with you!" adding a brutal remark at which manhood might well blush. Mrs. Cheeseman fainted, and her husband was carried away to the gallows. [Footnote: Authorities differ as to the death of Cheeseman. Some say he was hanged, others that he died in prison.]

So fearful, at first, was the cruel old baron that some of his intended victims might escape through a verdict of acquittal by a jury, that men were taken from the tribunal of a court-martial directly to the gallows, without the forms of civil law.

For a time after Berkeley was established at York, Ingram still made a show of resistance, but accepted the first terms offered and surrendered. Only two prominent leaders remained uncaptured. These were Lawrence and Drummond. Berkeley swore he could not sleep well until they were hanged. The surrender of Ingram destroyed even the faintest hope of reorganizing the patriot army, and Mr. Drummond, deserted by his followers, was captured in the Chickahominy swamp and hurried to York to the governor, who greeted him with bitter irony.

"Mr. Drummond," he said, "you are very welcome! I am more glad to see you than any man in Virginia. Mr. Drummond, you shall be hanged in half an hour."

"What your honor pleases," Mr. Drummond boldly answered. "I expect no mercy from you. I have followed the lead of my conscience and did what I might to free my countrymen from oppression."

He was condemned at one o'clock and hanged at four. By a cruel decree of the governor, his brave wife Sarah was denounced as a traitress and banished with her children to the wilderness, where, for a while, they were forced to subsist on the charity of friends almost as poor as they.

Berkeley's rage was not yet fully satisfied. The thoughtful Mr. Lawrence had taken care of himself, for he knew but too well what to expect, should he be captured. Weeks passed and winter was advanced before Berkeley heard of him. Then from one of the upper plantations came the report that he and four other desperadoes with horses and pistols had marched away in snow ankle-deep. Some hoped they had perished in trying to swim the head-waters of some of the rivers; but they really traveled southward into North Carolinia, where they were safely concealed in the wilderness.

Berkeley proved himself a tiger, as he had proved himself a ruffian in insulting Mrs. Cheeseman. The taste of blood maddened him. He tried and executed nearly every one on whom he could lay his hands. Virginia became a vast jail or Tyburn Hill. Four men were hung on the York, several executed on the other side of the James River, and one was hanged in chains at West Point. In February, 1677, a fleet with a regiment of English troops arrived, and a formal commission to try rebels was organized, of which Berkeley was a member. This commission determined to kill Bland, who had been captured in Accomac. The friends of the prisoner in England had procured and sent over his pardon; but the commissioners were privately informed that the Duke of York (afterward James II.) had sworn that "Bacon and Bland must die," and with this intimation of what would be agreeable to his royal highness, Bland was hung. It was a revel of blood. In almost every county, gibbets rose and made the wayfarer shudder and turn away at sight of their ghastly burdens. In all, twenty-three persons were executed, and Charles II., disgusted with the tyranny of Berkeley, declared: