But now Berkeley had to decide whether it was his duty to remain at his post in Virginia or whether he should hasten back to England to offer his sword to his King. Every vessel which came in brought news of the bitter conflict which was convulsing the mother country—the battle of Edgehill, the victory of the Londoners at Turnham Green, the murderous struggle in the lanes and ditches of Newbury. Though it seemed that final victory for the royal forces was certain, Berkeley decided that he was needed more in England than in Virginia. Turning the government over to Richard Kemp, he set sail for England early in 1644. We next hear of him in the following summer in Cornwall with the King when he was bearing down on the Parliamentary forces under Essex.
It is eloquent of the work done by Berkeley in reconciling the bitter factions left by Harvey, that Mathews, Pierce, Menefie, and West seem to have accepted Kemp's appointment in good grace. But one wonders whether Kemp, with this dignity, got a new ribbon for his hair lock, and whether he patched up his quarrel with the Reverend Anthony Panton. But he was left little time for personal matters, for a few weeks after Berkeley's departure the Indians, under the leadership of the aged Opechancanough, fell on the outer settlements and massacred no less than five hundred persons.[9]
Even when this terrible news reached Berkeley he seems to have delayed his return, for it was only on June 7, 1645, over a year after the massacre, that he arrived at Jamestown.[10] In the meanwhile, the whites had taken ample revenge on their treacherous enemies. Expeditions had gone out to bring fire and destruction to the Indian villages, and to cut down the ripening corn. No sooner had the Governor set foot on Virginia soil than he took personal charge of the war, leading out the forces, exposing himself to danger "night and day on the water and on the land," "visiting the remoter parts and with his presence encouraging the people." So indefatigable was he that "he scarce ate or slept to the hazard of his health."[11] At last, when he had captured Opechancanough, the disheartened savages sued for peace.[12]
Having removed the Indian menace, Sir William was faced with the task of saving Virginia for the King. The news from England was alarming—Parliament was everywhere victorious; the use of the Book of Common Prayer was forbidden; hundreds of Anglican clergymen had been expelled from their livings; the King had fled to the Isle of Wight.
The Governor knew that there was a powerful faction in the colony, composed chiefly of merchants and Puritans, who favored Parliament. Some of the merchants had bought plantations in Virginia, entered actively into public life, and perhaps held high offices. Thomas Stegg, one of the most prominent of them, in 1643 had been Speaker of the House of Burgesses. Richard Lee, who traded to London, was "faithful and useful to the interest of the Commonwealth." Richard Bennett adhered to Parliament not only because of his mercantile interests, but because he was an ardent Puritan.
But the people as a whole were linked by self-interest to whatever government was in power in England. Virginia's prosperity depended upon trade. It was vital to the planters to ship their tobacco abroad and to get manufactured goods in exchange—cloth, clothing, household utensils, tools, farm implements, etc. London, the great trading center of England, was held by the enemies of the King. Even though the Dutch took off part of the tobacco crop, if Parliament should prohibit trade with the colony the effect might be disastrous. This helps to explain why such a prominent man as Samuel Mathews, who made a good income by selling beef to victual the English ships, became "a most deserving Commonwealth man."
Fortunately, Parliament realized that an embargo was a sword that cut both ways. At first they tried to bring pressure on the colony by freezing their goods in England, but, no doubt at the solicitation of the London merchants, in October, 1644, the Commons wrote the Virginia Assembly that this action had been reversed. Traders hesitated even then to load their vessels and sail for Virginia, fearing that Berkeley, in his rage against Parliament, might have persuaded the Assembly to exclude them. But they were soon reassured. In February, 1645, the Assembly passed an act declaring that since "the great wants and extremities of the colony" made it necessary to encourage commerce, free trade would be allowed "to all his Majesty's subjects of England."[13] They went still further the next year when they thanked the House of Commons "for all its favors" to them.[14]
Yet the planters, not knowing what would come out of the clash of religions, political forces, and armies which was convulsing England, did all they could to encourage trade with the Dutch. The merchants of Amsterdam paid well for their tobacco, and sold their wares at figures well below those charged by the English. In January, 1649, whereas there were only seven vessels from London and two from Bristol trading in the James River, there were twelve from the Netherlands.
Though Berkeley had to yield to the Virginia merchants in their demand that trade be kept open with the mother country, he was determined to stamp out Puritanism in the colony. Most Virginians were attached to the Church of England; the use of the Book of Common Prayer was almost universal; the ministers adhered to Anglican canonical law. But here and there, especially where there were many new arrivals who had been under the influence of Calvinist ministers in England, there were pockets of Puritans.
Most of the nonconformists were concentrated in southeastern Virginia in the counties bordering on Hampton Roads. In May, 1640, the people of the Lower Norfolk County parish elected the Reverend Thomas Harrison their minister, "to instruct them concerning their souls' health." Apparently Mr. Harrison did not think that the use of the Book of Common Prayer or catechising on Sunday afternoons was necessary for the health of their souls, for he neglected both.[15]