Berkeley arrived in Virginia early in 1642. When the Councillors assembled and took the oath of allegiance and supremacy, they must have viewed their polished and courtly new Governor with keen interest mixed with apprehension. Would he follow the example of Harvey in trying to rule like an Eastern despot? Would he try to set himself above the law? Would he take sides in the quarrels which had divided the colony and resume the persecution of one group or the other?
Berkeley soon made it evident that he wished to do justice to all men. It mattered not whether they had been friends of Harvey or his enemies so long as they were loyal to the King. So Kemp, Mathews, Menefie, West, Pierce, and others who sat around him at the Council table, had to stifle old resentments and unite in support of the new administration.
Harvey had assumed that since the King was absolute and so could do no wrong, he, as his substitute, could trample on the rights of the people at will. Berkeley, in contrast, acted on the theory that at a time when the Throne itself was in peril, it was his duty to show that under the royal authority there could be justice, security, and even freedom. Virginia had had ten years of experience of his policies when he asked what they could expect from a change of government. "Is it liberty? The sun looks not on a people more free than we are from oppression. Is it wealth? Hundreds of examples show us that industry and thrift in a short time may bring us to as high of it as the country and our conditions are capable of. Is it security to enjoy this wealth when gotten? Without blushing I will speak it, I am confident there lives not that person can accuse me of attempting the least act against any man's property."[1]
There is every reason to believe that this boast was justified. The first Assembly that sat after Berkeley's arrival spoke of the "good and wholesome laws" that they had passed under his leadership. They were especially proud of "the near approach we have made to the laws and customs of England in proceedings of the court and trials of causes."[2] So we hear no more of the prosecution of men on trivial charges, of the overawing of judges, and of ruinous confiscations. Thomas Ludwell, after the surrender of the colony to the Commonwealth, when Berkeley's enemies might easily have hounded him in the courts, declared that there was not one man that either publicly or privately charged him with injustice.[3]
It must have produced a general sense of security when Sir William affixed his signature to a bill giving either the plaintiff or the defendant in any court the right to demand trial by jury. No more could a body of justices, appointed by the Governor, and perhaps looking to him for further favors, deprive a man of his property without the judgment of his peers.[4] And should one be brought before the General Court to plead for life or limb, one need not submit to their decision if unjust, for now, apparently for the first time, appeals were permitted to the Assembly.[5]
One of the chief grievances of former times had been the conscripting of men for public service or the service of the Governor. So now when Berkeley "in preferring the public freedom before his particular profit" gave up any claim to forced labor, he won the gratitude of the people. He has restored to us the birthright of our mother nation, men said. No longer need the poor planter fear that the sheriff would lead him off to work in the Governor's garden while his tobacco field went to weeds, or the carpenter curse the day when he was forced to give his time for the construction of a fort.[6]
The Assembly admitted that before the arrival of the new Governor they had not done their full duty in passing wholesome laws and redressing grievances. But they now proudly submitted to the public judgment the many benefits to the colony from "their late consultations." Among these was the relief given the poor by the revising of the tax law, so as to make the levy "in some measure" proportionate to "men's abilities and estates."
The Assembly thought it wise to assert once more that the Governor and Council had no authority to lay taxes.[7] There would seem to have been no need for this since, though Harvey may have tried to levy taxes on his own responsibility, there is no evidence that Berkeley made such an attempt. It seems likely that the Assembly had no more in mind in re-enacting this law than the emphasizing of a vital principle.
Berkeley's liberal policies won something more tangible than the gratitude of the people, for the Assembly made him a present of two houses and an orchard.[8] When the Civil War in England cut off the Governor's pension and the allowance granted him by the King, they levied a tax of two shillings a tithable to raise a fund for his support. It is true that they did this with grave misgivings. To excuse themselves to the people they pointed out that such a thing had never occurred before from the infancy of the colony, and they prayed God it would never happen again. The Assembly promised that when the present crisis had passed they would never again consent to place the burden of maintaining the Governor upon the people.
They seem not to have considered that to do so would be well worth the cost, since it would make him less dependent on the King and more amenable to their wishes. In the struggle for self-government in the American colonies nothing tended more to bring victory than the fact the Assemblies usually were paymasters for the Governors.