“NATHANIEL BACON ESQ’R, HIS MANIFESTO CONCERNING THE PRESENT TROUBLES IN VIRGINIA.
“If vertue be a sin, if Piety be giult, all the Principles of morality goodness and Justice be perverted, Wee must confesse That those who are now called Rebells may be in danger of those high imputations, Those loud and severall Bulls would affright Innocents and render the defence of or Brethren and the enquiry into or sad and heavy oppressions, Treason. But if there bee, as sure there is, a just God to appeal too, if Religion and Justice be a sanctuary here, If to plead ye cause of the oppressed, If sincerely to aime at his Maties Honour and the Publick good without any reservation or by Interest, If to stand in the Gap after soe much blood of or dear Brethren bought and sold, If after the losse of a great part of his Maties Colony deserted and dispeopled, freely with or lives and estates to indeavor to save the remaynders bee Treason, God Almighty Judge and lett guilty dye. But since wee cannot in or hearts find one single spott of Rebellion or Treason or that wee have in any manner aimed at the subverting ye setled Government or attempting of the person of any either magistrate or private man not with standing the severall Reproaches and Threats of some who for sinister ends were disaffected to us and censured or ino[cent] and honest designes, and since all people in all places where wee have yet bin can attest or civill, quiet, peaseable behaviour farre different from that of Rebellion and tumultuous persons, let Trueth be bold and all the world know the real Foundations of pretended giult.”
When this ardent and impetuous nature was vanquished as alone it could be vanquished—by death—Berkeley might, by judicious magnanimity, have healed the wounds of civil war; but, instead, he pursued the conquered rebels with a malignant perseverance, which seemed to grow by what it fed on. “Mr. Drummond,” he said ironically to a follower of Bacon brought to him as a prisoner, “you are very welcome! I am more glad to see you than any man in Virginia. You shall be hanged in half an hour.”
Twenty-three leaders of this rebellion were thus executed before Berkeley stayed the bloody hand of his vengeance. “The old fool,” quoth the King, “hath taken more lives in that naked country, than I for my father’s murder!”
Bacon’s death remains one of the mysteries of history. Some said he died of miasma in the Virginia swamps; some hinted that his foes poisoned his food, so sudden and mysterious was his ending; and lest Berkeley’s revenge should extend to insulting the very corpse of his foe, Bacon’s followers buried him with the greatest secrecy, and no man knoweth the resting place of this first colonial champion of popular rights. But the spirit of popular liberty did not die with Bacon, nor vice-royal tyranny with Berkeley. Culpeper, Howard, and a score of others came over from England, one after another, all differing on many points of provincial policy, but united in the determination to fill their own pockets and the royal exchequer by means of colonial revenue. “Lord Colepepper,” commented Beverley, “reduced the greatest perquisite of his place to a certainty, which before was only gratuitous; that is, instead of the masters of ships making presents of Liquors or provisions toward the Governor’s housekeeping, as they were wont to do, he demanded a certain amount of money, remitting that custom.” Such petty exactions as this were a dangerous experiment with a vehement and high-spirited people, who were willing to give much, but to yield nothing.
The justice and moderation of Spotswood’s government held back the tide of popular revolt for some time, and the French and Indian War roused a final flicker of loyalty to the mother-country; but England’s success in that struggle cost her the American provinces. When Quebec surrendered to Wolfe’s troops, and the French force was withdrawn from Canada, the Comte de Vergennes prophesied the coming revolution against England. “The colonies,” said he, “will no longer need her protection. She will call on them to contribute toward supporting the burdens they have helped to bring on her, and they will answer by striking off all dependence.”
In 1768 affairs looked stormy in Virginia, and Lord Botetourt was sent over to prophesy smooth things and allay popular irritation, without committing the government by definite promises. The man was well chosen for the task. Junius described him as a cringing, bowing, fawning, sword-bearing courtier. Horace Walpole said his graciousness was enamelled on iron. He came, he saw, he conquered Virginia in a bloodless victory, but Virginia did not stay conquered. When the colonists presented an address which he was pleased to consider insubordinate, Botetourt dissolved the Assembly; but they retired to a private house, elected Peyton Randolph moderator, and prepared and signed a resolution to abstain from all merchandise taxed by Parliament.
The beginning of the end was at hand. The farce of the repeal of the Stamp Act and its reimposition went on. Botetourt went home, and Lord Dunmore, the last of the hated race of governors, came over. His imbecile policy, at once timid and tyrannous, hastened the march of events, but the end was inevitable. “Colonies,” said Turgot, “are like fruits, which cling to the tree only till they ripen.” So the event proved in America—Virginia and Massachusetts, Maryland and Rhode Island, travelling by different roads, reached the same point of determination at any cost to throw off the yoke of British oppression. Henceforth they were to be no more provincials, but patriots; and Cavalier and Puritan struck hands in the hearty good-will of a common cause.