The powers of the Governor were great, so great that even the British government at times thought they should be used with caution. "All things are made so entirely dependent on the Governor's single will and pleasure, that whenever there may happen an ill man in that post, it cannot reasonably be expected any person ... should either oppose such an one in whatever he may attempt or so much as give any advice," wrote the Lords of Trade in 1698.[3]
The Governor's powers differed from time to time, depending upon the situation in England, upon developments in the colony, and upon the character of the Governor. Sir William Berkeley based his power chiefly on the use of the patronage; Effingham's authority was but a reflection of the despotism of the late Stuart Kings. On the whole, the Governors of the seventeenth century exercised more power than those of the eighteenth century.
At all times the Governor was respected because back of him was the awe-inspiring figure of the monarch. If the Councillors or the Burgesses defied him, he might report their "disobedience" to the King with serious consequences. On more than one occasion the King ordered the Governor to rebuke the Burgesses for their "presumption" in disregarding his wishes.
The Burgesses seem not to have hung their heads at these reprimands, and it was only when the King tried to abridge their privileges that they were deeply concerned. But the greatest danger lay, not in overriding the House, but in undermining it by political bribery. The Governor had in his hands many lucrative offices with which to reward those who voted as he wished. "Don't you know there is a sheriff and a clerk in every county, besides other offices of profit in the country?" Benjamin Harrison wrote Philip Ludwell, in 1703. "Is it not the wise man's phrase that a gift will blind the eyes of the wise?... Places are now shifted as often as the occasion requires, to put out or in, as men will or will not serve a turn. Sheriffs are turned out in the middle of their collection. Clerks are turned out without ever knowing why and so are other officers.... I need not tell you what men too many of our House of Burgesses are, how greedy they are to catch at any little place of profit, without considering the ill consequence that attends it; like the poor harmless fish that eagerly catches at the bait without considering the hook of destruction is under it.... Add a sheriff, a clerk, or a naval officer's place, and pray who would consider the Queen's service, the interest of the country, or the discharging a Burgess's oath!"[4]
The most tempting plum was a seat in the Council. Though this was in the gift of the King, he almost invariably named the man recommended by the Governor. So the Burgess who aspired to it was a patriot indeed if he set the welfare of the country above his own ambition by opposing the Governor in the House.
It was not necessary for the Governor to make a direct promise; every man of prominence and wealth knew that he was being watched. But in one case at least a bargain was struck. In 1683 Governor Culpeper wrote the Privy Council that Isaac Allerton had assured him "of his utmost services in whatsoever the King should command him by his Governor," and he had promised in return "that he should be of the Council ... though not to be declared till after the session of the next Assembly."[5] One wonders whether Allerton's conscience hurt him when, several years later, he took the seat which he had gained by betraying the interests of those who had elected him.
In February, 1691, Governor Nicholson wrote the Lords of Trade explaining why he had deferred sending a list of recommendations for appointment to the Council until after a meeting of the Assembly. "I think it a proper time to try men in, especially considering how many of his Majesty's affairs are to be transacted there."[6]
Even when a Carter, or a Byrd, or a Ludwell had taken his seat in the Council, he had to watch his step. If he opposed the Governor too vigorously he might be suspended. In 1677 Deputy Governor Herbert Jeffreys reported that "one Ballard of the Council" was "a fellow of a turbulent, mutinous spirit," and that he had "found very just cause of suspending him at present both from the Council and collectorship ... and advancing others more loyal, fit, and honest in his place."[7]
The Governor could crack the whip over the head of any Councillor who defied him by threatening to kick him out of certain places of profit and honor. The Councillors "have all along held the places of profit in Virginia by the Governor's gift and during his pleasure," Henry Hartwell reported to the Lords of Trade, "which I have always observed has restrained them from due freedom of ... debate."[8] It was taken for granted that as soon as a man became a Councillor he was to have the next vacancy as colonel of militia, or collector of the export duty, or naval officer. In the Council of 1692 all save three were colonels. And if a Councillor were in high favor with the Governor, he might be in line as Secretary or Auditor.[9]
It was the Governor who appointed sheriffs, justices of the peace, and other local officers. Since the county court had legislative and administrative as well as judicial powers it was the ruling body in the county. It even had the right to tax. That the justices were not elected by the people not only made local government undemocratic, but added greatly to the Governor's power. He could always appoint men who were favorable to his policies or turn out those who opposed him.