WESTWARD GROWTH
OF
OLD VIRGINIA

THE M.-N. CO., BUFFALO, N. Y.

OLD VIRGINIA
AND HER NEIGHBOURS
BY
JOHN FISKE
Οὐ λίθοι, οὐδὲ ξύλα, οὐδὲ
Τέχνη τεκτόνων αἱ πόλεις εἶσιν
Ἀλλ’ ὅπού ποτ’ ἂν ὦσιν ἌΝΔΡΕΣ
Αὑτοὺς σώζειν εἰδότες,
Ἐνταῦθα τείχη καὶ πόλεις.
Alcæus

IN TWO VOLUMES
VOLUME II
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge

COPYRIGHT 1897 BY JOHN FISKE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CONTENTS.

VOLUME II.

OLD VIRGINIA AND HER NEIGHBOURS.

CHAPTER X.
THE COMING OF THE CAVALIERS.

Virginia depicted.

“These things that follow in this ensuing relation are certified by divers letters from Virginia, by men of worth and credit there, written to a friend in England, that for his own and others’ satisfaction was desirous to know these particulars and the present estate of that country. And let no man doubt of the truth of it. There be many in England, land and seamen, that can bear witness of it. And if this plantation be not worth encouragement, let every true Englishman judge.”

Animals.

Such is the beginning of an enthusiastic little pamphlet, of unknown authorship, published in London in 1649,[1] the year in which Charles I. perished on the scaffold. It is entitled “A Perfect Description of Virginia,” and one of its effects, if not its purpose, must have been to attract immigrants to that colony from the mother country. In Virginia “there is nothing wanting” to make people happy; there are “plenty, health, and wealth.” Of English about 15,000 are settled there, with 300 negro servants. Of kine, oxen, bulls, and calves, there are 20,000, and there is plenty of good butter and cheese. There are 200 horses, 50 asses, 3,000 sheep with good wool, 5,000 goats, and swine and poultry innumerable. Besides these European animals, there are many deer, with “rackoons, as good meat as lamb,” and “passonnes” [opossums], otters and beavers, foxes and dogs that “bark not.” In the waters are “above thirty sorts” of fish “very excellent good in their kinds.” The wild turkey sometimes weighs sixty pounds, and besides partridges, ducks, geese, and pigeons, the woods abound in sweet songsters and “most rare coloured parraketoes, and [we have] one bird we call the mock-bird; for he will imitate all other birds’ notes and cries, both day and night birds, yea, the owls and nightingales.”

Agriculture.

The farmers have under cultivation many hundred acres of excellent wheat; their maize, or “Virginia corn,” yields an increase of 500 for 1, and makes “good bread and furmity” [porridge]; they have barley in plenty, and six brew-houses which brew strong and well-flavoured beer. There are fifteen kinds of fruit that for delicacy rival the fruits of Italy; in the gardens grow potatoes, turnips, carrots, parsnips, onions, artichokes, asparagus, beans, and better peas than those of England, with all manner of herbs and “physick flowers.” The tobacco is everywhere “much vented and esteemed,” but such immense crops are raised that the price is but three pence a pound. There is also a hope that indigo, hemp and flax, vines and silk-worms, can be cultivated with profit, since it is chiefly hands that are wanted. It surely would be better to grow silk here, where mulberry trees are so plenty, than to fetch it as we do from Persia and China “with great charge and expense and hazard,” thereby enriching “heathen and Mahumetans.”

Northwest passage.

At the same time they are hoping soon to discover a way to China, “for Sir Francis Drake was on the back side of Virginia in his voyage about the world in 37 degrees ... and now all the question is only how broad the land may be to that place [i. e. California] from the head of James River above the falls.” By prosecuting discovery in this direction “the planters in Virginia shall gain the rich trade of the East India, and so cause it to be driven through the continent of Virginia, part by land and part by water, and in a most gainful way and safe, and far less expenseful and dangerous, than now it is.”

Commercial rivals.

It behooves the English, says our pamphlet, to be more vigilant, and to pay more heed to their colonies; for behold, “the Swedes have come and crept into a river called Delawar, that is within the limits of Virginia,” and they are driving “a great and secret trade of furs.” Moreover, “the Hollanders have stolen into a river called Hudson’s River, in the limits also of Virginia, ... they have built a strong fort ... and drive a trade of fur there with the natives for above £10,000 a year. These two plantations are ... on our side of Cape Cod which parts us and New England. Thus are the English nosed in all places, and out-traded by the Dutch. They would not suffer the English to use them so; but they have vigilant statesmen, and advance all they can for a common good, and will not spare any encouragements to their people to discover.”

New England.

Health of body and soul.

“Concerning New England,” which is but four days’ sail from Virginia, a trade goes to and fro; but except for the fishing, “there is not much in that land,” which in respect of frost and snow is as Scotland compared with England, and so barren withal that, “except a herring be put into the hole that you set the corn or maize in, it will not come up.” What a pity that the New England people, “being now about 20,000, did not seat themselves at first to the south of Virginia, in a warm and rich country, where their industry would have produced sugar, indigo, ginger, cotton, and the like commodities!” But here in Virginia the land “produceth, with very great increase, whatsoever is committed into the bowels of it; ... a fat rich soil everywhere watered with many fine springs, small rivulets, and wholesome waters.” As to healthiness, fewer people die in a year proportionately than in England; “since that men are provided with all necessaries, have plenty of victual, bread, and good beer, ... all which the Englishman loves full dearly.” Nor is their spiritual welfare neglected, for there are twenty churches, with “doctrine and orders after the church of England;” and “the ministers’ livings are esteemed worth at least £100 per annum; they are paid by each planter so much tobacco per poll, and so many bushels of corn; they live all in peace and love.”

Schools.

Captain Mathews and his household.

“I may not forget to tell you we have a free school, with 200 acres of land, a fine house upon it, 40 milch kine, and other accommodations; the benefactor deserves perpetual memory; his name, Mr. Benjamin Symes, worthy to be chronicled; other petty schools also we have.” Various details of orchards and vineyards, of Mr. Kinsman’s pure perry and Mr. Pelton’s strong metheglin, entertain us; and a pleasant tribute is paid to “worthy Captain Mathews,” the same who fourteen years before had assisted at the thrusting out of Sir John Harvey. “He hath a fine house, and all things answerable to it; he sows yearly store of hemp and flax, and causes it to be spun; he keeps weavers, and hath a tan house, causes leather to be dressed, hath eight shoemakers employed in their trade, hath forty negro servants, brings them up to trades in his house; he yearly sows abundance of wheat, barley, &c., the wheat he selleth at four shillings the bushel, kills store of beeves, and sells them to victual the ships when they come thither; hath abundance of kine, a brave dairy, swine great store, and poultry; he married the daughter of Sir Thomas Hinton, and, in a word, keeps a good house, lives bravely, and a true lover of Virginia; he is worthy of much honour.”

Rapid growth of population.

It will be observed that Captain Mathews possessed, in his forty black servants, nearly one seventh part of the negro population. Of the conditions under which wholesale negro slavery grew up, I shall treat hereafter. In the third quarter of the seventeenth century it was still in its beginnings. Between 1650 and 1670, along with an extraordinary growth in the total population, we observe a marked increase in the number of black slaves. In the latter year Berkeley estimated the population at 32,000 free whites, 6,000 indentured white servants, and 2,000 negroes. Large estates, cultivated by wholesale slave labour, were coming into existence, and a peculiar type of aristocratic or in some respects patriarchal society was growing up in Virginia. It was still for the most part confined to the peninsula between the James and York rivers and the territory to the south of the former, from Nansemond as far as the Appomattox, although in Gloucester likewise there was a considerable population, and there were settlements in Middlesex and Lancaster counties, on opposite banks of the Rappahannock, and even as far as Northumberland and Westmoreland on the Potomac. In the course of the disputes over Kent Island, settlements began upon those shores and increased apace.

Names of Virginia counties.

Some significant history is fossilized in the names of Virginia counties. When they are not the old shire names imported from England, like those just mentioned, they are apt to be personal names indicating the times when the counties were first settled, or when they acquired a distinct existence as counties. For a long time such personal names were chiefly taken from the royal household. Thus, while Charles City County bears the name of Charles I., bestowed upon the region before that king ascended the throne, the portion of it south of James River, set off in 1702 as Prince George County, was named for George of Denmark, consort of Queen Anne. So King William County on the south bank of the Mattapony, and King and Queen County on its north bank, carry us straight to the times of William and Mary, and indicate the position of the frontier in the days of Charles II.; while to the west of them the names of Hanover and the two Hanoverian princesses, Caroline and Louisa, carry us on to the days of the first two Georges.[2] At the time with which our narrative is now concerned, all that region to the south of Spottsylvania was unbroken wilderness. In 1670 a careful estimate was made of the number of Indians comprised within the immediate neighbourhood of the colony, and there were counted up 725 warriors, of whom more than 400 were on the Appomattox and Pamunkey frontiers, and nearly 200 between the Potomac and Rappahannock.

Scarcity of royalist names on the map of New England.

The map of Virginia, in the light in which I have here considered it, shows one remarkable point of contrast with the map of New England. On the coast of the latter one finds a very few names commemorative of royalty, such as Charles River, named by Captain John Smith, Cape Anne, named by Charles I. when Prince of Wales, and the Elizabeth Islands, named by Captain Gosnold still earlier and in the lifetime of the great Queen. But when it comes to names given by the settlers themselves, one cannot find in all New England a county name taken from any English sovereign or prince, except Dukes for the island of Martha’s Vineyard, and that simply recalls the fact that the island once formed a part of the proprietary domain of James, Duke of York, and sent a delegate to the first legislature that assembled at Manhattan. Except for this one instance, we should never know from the county names of New England that such a thing as kingship had ever existed. As for names of towns, there is in Massachusetts a Lunenburg, which is said to have received its name at the suggestion of a party of travellers from England in the year 1726;[3] it was afterward copied in Vermont; and by diligently searching the map of New England we may find half a dozen Hanovers and Brunswicks, counting originals and copies. Between this showing and that of Virginia, where the sequence of royal names is full enough to preserve a rude record of the country’s expansion, the contrast is surely striking. The difference between the Puritan temper and that of the Cavaliers seems to be written ineffaceably upon the map.

The Cavaliers in Virginia: some popular misconceptions.

Some democratic protests.

We are thus brought to the question as to how far the Cavalier element predominated in the composition of Old Virginia. It is a subject concerning which current general statements are apt to be loose and misleading. It has given rise to much discussion, and, like a good deal of what passes for historical discussion, it has too often been conducted under the influence of personal or sectional prejudices. Half a century ago, in the days when the people of the slave states and those of the free states found it difficult to think justly or to speak kindly of one another, one used often to hear sweeping generalizations. On the one hand, it was said that Southerners were the descendants of Cavaliers, and therefore presumably of gentle blood, while Northerners were descendants of Roundheads, and therefore presumably of ignoble origin. Some such notion may have prompted the famous remark of Robert Toombs, in 1860: “We [i. e. the Southerners] are the gentlemen of this country.” On the other hand, it was retorted that the people of the South were in great part descended from indentured white servants sent from the jails and slums of England.[4] This point will receive due attention in a future chapter. At present we may note that descent from Cavaliers has not always been a matter of pride with Southern speakers and writers. There was a time when the fierce spirit of democracy was inclined to regard such a connection as a stigma. The father of President Tyler “used to say that he cared naught for any other ancestor than Wat Tyler the blacksmith, who had asserted the rights of oppressed humanity, and that he would have no other device on his shield than a sledge hammer raised in the act of striking.”[5] On the subject of Cavaliers a well known Virginian writer, Hugh Blair Grigsby, once grew very warm. “The Cavalier,” said he, “was essentially a slave, a compound slave, a slave to the King and a slave to the Church. I look with contempt on the miserable figment which seeks to trace the distinguishing points of the Virginia character to the influence of those butterflies of the British aristocracy.”[6] Historical questions are often treated in this way. We grow up with a vague conception of something in the past which we feel in duty bound to condemn, and then if we are told that our own forefathers were part and parcel of the hated thing we lose our tempers. Mr. Grigsby’s remarks are an expression of American feeling in what may be called its Elijah Pogram period, when the knowledge of history was too slender and the historic sense too dull to be shocked at the incongruity of classing such men as Strafford and Falkland with “butterflies.” The study of history in such a mood is not likely to be fruitful of much beside rhetoric.

Sweeping statements are inadmissible.

Before we proceed, a few further words are desirable concerning the fallacies and misconceptions which abound in the opinions cited in the foregoing paragraph. It is impossible to make any generalization concerning the origin of the white people of the South as a whole, or of the North as a whole, further than to say that their ancestors came from Europe, and a large majority of them from the British islands. The facts are too complicated to be embraced in any generalization more definitely limited than this. When sweeping statements are made about “the North” and “the South,” it is often apparent that the speaker has in mind only Massachusetts and tidewater Virginia, making these parts do duty for the whole. The present book will make it clear that it is only in connection with tidewater Virginia that the migration of Cavaliers from England to America has any historical significance.

Difference between Cavaliers and Roundheads was political, not social.

It is a mistake to suppose that the contrast between Cavaliers and Roundheads was in any wise parallel with the contrast between high-born people and low-born. A majority of the landed gentry, titled and untitled, supported Charles I., while the chief strength of the Parliament lay in the smaller landholders and in the merchants of the cities. But the Roundheads also included a large and powerful minority of the landed aristocracy, headed by the Earls of Bedford, Warwick, Manchester, Northumberland, Stamford, and Essex, the Lords Fairfax and Brooke, and many others. The leaders of the party, Pym and Hampden, Vane and Cromwell, were of gentle blood; and among the officers of the New Model were such as Montagues, Pickerings, Fortescues, Sheffields, and Sidneys. In short, the distinction between Cavalier and Roundhead was no more a difference in respect of lineage or social rank than the analogous distinction between Tory and Whig. The mere fact of a man’s having belonged to the one party or the other raises no presumption as to his “gentility.”

England has never had a noblesse, or upper caste.

Contrast with France.

Importance of the middle class.

It is worth while here to correct another error which is quite commonly entertained in the United States. It is the error of supposing that in Great Britain there are distinct orders of society, or that there exists anything like a sharp and well defined line between the nobility and the commonalty. The American reader is apt to imagine a “peerage,” the members of which have from time immemorial constituted a kind of caste clearly marked off from the great body of the people, and into which it has always been very difficult for plain people to rise. In this crude conception the social differences between England and America are greatly exaggerated. In point of fact the British islands are the one part of Europe where the existence of a peerage has not resulted in creating a distinct upper class of society. The difference will be most clearly explained by contrasting England with France. In the latter country, before the Revolution of 1789, there was a peerage consisting of great landholders, local rulers and magistrates, and dignitaries of the church, just as in England. But in France all the sons and brothers of a peer were nobles distinguished by a title and reckoned among the peerage, and all were exempt from sundry important political duties, including the payment of taxes. Thus they constituted a real noblesse, or caste apart from the people, until the Revolution at a single blow destroyed all their privileges. At the present day French titles of nobility are merely courtesy titles, and through excessive multiplication have become cheap. On the other hand, in England, the families of peers have never been exempt from their share of the public burdens. The “peerage,” or hereditary right to sit in the House of Lords, belongs only to the head of the family; all the other members of the family are commoners, though some may be addressed by courtesy titles. During the formative period of modern political society, from the fourteenth century onward, the sons of peers habitually competed for seats in the House of Commons, side by side with merchants and yeomen. This has prevented anything like a severance between the interests of the higher and of the lower classes in England, and has had much to do with the peaceful and healthy political development which has so eminently characterized our mother country. England has never had a noblesse. As the upper class has never been sharply distinguished politically, so it has not held itself separate socially. Families with titles have intermarried with families that have none, the younger branches of a peer’s family become untitled gentry, ancient peerages lapse while new ones are created, so that there is a “circulation of gentle blood” that has thus far proved eminently wholesome. More than two thirds of the present House of Lords are the grandsons or great-grandsons of commoners. Of the 450 or more hereditary peerages now existing, three date from the thirteenth century and four from the fourteenth; of those existing in the days of Thomas Becket not one now remains in the same family. It has always been easy in England for ability and character to raise their possessor in the social scale; and hence the middle class has long been recognized as the abiding element in England’s strength. Voltaire once compared the English people to their ale,—froth at the top and dregs at the bottom, but sound and bright and strong in the middle. As to the last he was surely right.

Respect paid to industry in England.

One further point calls for mention. In mediæval and early modern England, great respect was paid to incorporated crafts and trades. The influence and authority wielded by county magnates over the rural population was paralleled by the power exercised in the cities by the livery companies or guilds. Since the twelfth century, the municipal franchise in the principal towns and cities of Great Britain has been for the most part controlled by the various trade and craft guilds. In the seventeenth century, when the migrations to America were beginning, it was customary for members of noble families to enter these guilds as apprentices in the crafts of the draper, the tailor, the vintner, or the mason, etc. Many important consequences have flowed from this. Let it suffice here to note that this fact of the rural aristocracy keeping in touch with the tradesmen and artisans has been one of the safeguards of English liberty; it has been one source of the power of the Commons, one check upon the undue aspirations of the Crown. It indicates a kind of public sentiment very different from that which afterward grew up in our southern states under the malignant influence of slavery, which proclaimed an antagonism between industry and gentility that is contrary to the whole spirit of English civilization.

The Cavalier exodus.

With these points clear in our minds, we may understand the true significance of the arrival of the Cavaliers in Virginia. The date to be remembered in connection with that event is 1649, and it is instructive to compare it with the exodus of Puritans to New England. The little settlement of the Mayflower Pilgrims was merely a herald of the great Puritan exodus, which really began in 1629, when Charles I. entered upon his period of eleven years of rule without a parliament, and continued until about 1642, when the Civil War broke out. During those thirteen years more than 20,000 Puritans came to New England. The great Cavalier exodus began with the king’s execution in 1649, and probably slackened after 1660. It must have been a chief cause of the remarkable increase of the white population of Virginia from 15,000 in 1649 to 38,000 in 1670.

Political complexion of Virginia before 1649.

The great exchange of 1649.

The period of the Commonwealth in England thus marks an important epoch in Virginia, and we must be on our guard against confusing what came after with what preceded it. As to the political complexion of Virginia in the earliest time, it would be difficult to make a general statement, except that there was a widespread feeling in favour of the Company as managed by Sandys and Southampton. This meant that the settlers knew when they were well governed. They did not approve of a party that sent an Argall to fleece them, even though it were the court party. So, too, in the thrusting out of Sir John Harvey in 1635 we see the temper of the councillors and burgesses flatly opposed to the king’s unpopular representative. But such instances do not tell us much concerning the attitude of the colonists upon questions of English politics. The fortunes of the Puritan settlers in Virginia afford a surer indication. At first, as we have seen, when the Puritans as a body had not yet separated from the Church, there were a good many in Virginia; and by 1640 they probably formed about seven per cent. of the population. The legislation against them beginning in 1631 seems to indicate that public sentiment in Virginia favoured the policy of Laud; while the slackness with which such legislation was enforced raises a suspicion that such sentiment was at first not very strong. It seems probable that as the country party in England came more and more completely under the control of Puritanism, and as Puritanism grew more and more radical in temper, the reaction toward the royalist side grew more and more pronounced in Virginia. If there ever was a typical Cavalier of the more narrow-minded sort, it was Sir William Berkeley, who at the same time was by no means the sort of person that one might properly call a “butterfly.” If the eloquent Mr. Grigsby had once got into those iron clutches, he would have sought some other term of comparison. When Berkeley arrived in Virginia, and for a long time afterward, he was extremely popular. We have seen him acting with so much energy against the Puritans that in the course of the year 1649 not less than 1,000 of them left the colony. Upon the news of the king’s death, Berkeley sent a message to England inviting royalists to come to Virginia, and within a twelvemonth perhaps as many as 1,000 had arrived, picked men and women of excellent sort. Thus it curiously happened that the same moment which saw Virginia lose most of her Puritan population, also saw it replaced by an equal number of devoted Cavaliers.

Moderation shown in Virginia.

From this moment we may date the beginnings of Cavalier ascendency in Virginia. But for the next ten years that growing ascendency was qualified by the necessity of submitting to the Puritan government in England. In 1652 Berkeley was obliged to retire from the governorship, and the king’s men in Virginia found it prudent to put some restraint upon the expression of their feelings. But in this change, as we have seen, there was no violence. It is probable that there was a considerable body of colonists “comparatively indifferent to the struggle of parties in England, anxious only to save Virginia from spoliation and bloodshed, and for that end willing to throw in their lot with the side whose success held out the speediest hopes of peace. There is another consideration which helps to explain the moderation of the combatants. In England each party was exasperated by grievous wrongs, and hence its hour of triumph was also its hour of revenge. The struggle in Virginia was embittered by no such recollections.”[7]

Colonel Richard Lee.

Election of Berkeley by the assembly.

A name inseparably associated with Berkeley is that of Colonel Richard Lee, who is described as “a man of good stature, comely visage, an enterprising genius, a sound head, vigorous spirit, and generous nature,”[8] qualities that may be recognized in many of his famous descendants. This Richard Lee belonged to an ancient family, the Lees of Coton Hall, in Shropshire, whom we find from the beginning of the thirteenth century in positions of honour and trust. He came to Virginia about 1642, and obtained that year an estate which he called Paradise, near the head of Poropotank Creek, on the York River. He was from the first a man of much importance in the colony, serving as justice, burgess, councillor, and secretary of state. In 1654 we find him described as “faithful and useful to the interests of the Commonwealth,” but, as Dr. Edmund Lee says, “it is only fair to observe that this claim was made for him by a friend in his absence;”[9] or perhaps it only means that he was not one of the tribe of fanatics who love to kick against the pricks.[10] Certain it is that Colonel Lee was no Puritan, though doubtless he submitted loyally to the arrangement of 1652, as so many others did. There was nothing for the king’s men to do but possess their souls in quiet until 1659, when news came of the resignation of Richard Cromwell. “Worthy Captain Mathews,” whom the assembly had chosen governor, died about the same time. Accordingly, in March, 1660, the assembly resolved that, since there was then in England no resident sovereign generally recognized, the supreme power in Virginia must be regarded as lodged in the assembly, and that all writs should issue in the name of the Grand Assembly of Virginia until such a command should come from England as the assembly should judge to be lawful. Having passed this resolution, the assembly showed its political complexion by electing Sir William Berkeley for governor: and in the same breath it revealed its independent spirit by providing that he must call an assembly at least once in two years, and oftener if need be; and that he must not dissolve it without the consent of a majority of the members. On these terms Berkeley accepted office at the hands of the assembly.

Lee’s visit to Brussels.

Charles II. proclaimed king.

Before this transaction, perhaps in 1658, Colonel Lee seems to have visited Charles II. at Brussels, where he handed over to the still exiled prince the old commission of Berkeley, and may have obtained from him a new one for future use, reinstating him as governor.[11] There is a vague tradition that on this occasion he asked how soon Charles would be likely to be able to protect the colony in case it should declare its allegiance to him; and from this source may have arisen the wild statement, recorded by Beverley and promulgated by the eminent historian Robertson, that Virginia proclaimed Charles II. as sovereign a year or two before he was proclaimed in England.[12] The absurdity of this story was long ago pointed out;[13] but since error has as many lives as a cat, one may still hear it repeated. Charles II. was proclaimed king in England on the 8th of May, 1660, and in Virginia on the 20th of September following.[14] In October the royal commission for Berkeley arrived, and the governor may thus have felt that the conditions on which he accepted his office from the assembly were no longer binding. Our next chapter will show how lightly he held them.

If one may judge from the public accounts of York County in 1660, expressed in the arithmetic of a tobacco currency, the 20th of September must have been a joyful occasion:—

Att the proclaiming of his sacred Maisty:

There can be no doubt that it was an occasion prolific in legend. The historian Robert Beverley, who was born about fifteen years afterward, tells us that Governor Berkeley’s proclamation named Charles II. as “King of England, Scotland, France, Ireland, and Virginia.” The document itself, however, calls him “our most gratious soveraigne, Charles the Second, King of England, Scotland, ffrance, & Ireland,” and makes no mention of Virginia.

The seal of Virginia.

William Lee tells us that it was “in consequence of this step” that the motto En dat Virginia quintam was placed upon the seal of the colony.[15] Since “this step” was never taken, the statement needs some qualification. The idea of of designating Virginia as an additional kingdom to those over which the English sovereign ruled in Europe was already entertained in 1590 by Edmund Spenser, who dedicated his “Faëry Queene” to Elizabeth as queen of “England, France,[16] and Ireland, and of Virginia.”[17] As early as 1619 the London Company adopted a coat-of-arms, upon which was the motto En dat Virginia quintum, in which the unexpressed noun is regnum; “Behold, Virginia gives the fifth [kingdom].” After the restoration of Charles II. a new seal for Virginia, adopted about 1663, has the same motto, the effect of which was to rank Virginia by the side of his Majesty’s other four dominions, England, Scotland, “France,” and Ireland. We are told by the younger Richard Henry Lee that in these circumstances originated the famous epithet “Old Dominion.” In 1702, among several alterations in the seal, the word quintum was changed to quintam, to agree with the unexpressed noun coronam; “Behold, Virginia gives the fifth [crown].” After the legislative union of England with Scotland in 1707, another seal, adopted in 1714, substituted quartam for quintam.[18]

Increase in the size of land grants.

Just how many members of the royalist party came to Virginia while their young king was off upon his travels, it would be difficult to say. But there were unquestionably a great many. We have already remarked upon the very rapid increase of white population, from about 15,000 in 1649 to 38,000 in 1670. Along with this there was a marked increase in the size of the land grants, both the average size and the maximum; and in this coupling of facts there is great significance, for they show that the increase of population was predominantly an increase in the numbers of the upper class, of the people who could afford to have large estates. In these respects the year 1650 marks an abrupt change,[19] which may best be shown by a tabular view of the figures:—

Another way of showing the facts is still more striking:—

Cavalier families.

Ancestry of George Washington.

Value of genealogy.

The increase in the number of slaves after 1650 is a fact of similar import with the greater size of the estates. All the circumstances agree in showing that there was a large influx of eminently well-to-do people. It is well known, moreover, who these people were. It is in the reign of Charles II. that the student of Virginian history begins to meet frequently with the familiar names, such as Randolph, Pendleton, Madison, Mason, Monroe, Cary, Ludwell, Parke, Robinson, Marshall, Washington, and so many others that have become eminent. All these were Cavalier families that came to Virginia after the downfall of Charles I. Whether President Tyler was right in claiming descent from the Kentish rebel of 1381 is not clear, but there is no doubt that his first American ancestor, who came to Virginia after the battle of Worcester, was a gentleman and a royalist.[20] Until recently there was some uncertainty as to the pedigree of George Washington, but the researches of Mr. Fitz Gilbert Waters of Salem have conclusively proved that he was descended from the Washingtons of Sulgrave, in Northamptonshire, a family that had for generations worthily occupied positions of honour and trust. In the Civil War the Washingtons were distinguished royalists. The commander who surrendered Worcester in 1646 to the famous Edward Whalley was Colonel Henry Washington;[21] and his cousin John, who came to Virginia in 1657, was great-grandfather of George Washington. After the fashion that prevailed a hundred years ago, the most illustrious of Americans felt little interest in his ancestry; but with the keener historic sense and broader scientific outlook of the present day, the importance of such matters is better appreciated. The pedigrees of horses, dogs, and fancy pigeons have a value that is quotable in terms of hard cash. Far more important, for the student of human affairs, are the pedigrees of men. By no possible ingenuity of constitution-making or of legislation can a society made up of ruffians and boors be raised to the intellectual and moral level of a society made up of well-bred merchants and yeomen, parsons and lawyers. One might as well expect to see a dray horse win the Derby. It is, moreover, only when we habitually bear in mind the threads of individual relationship that connect one country with another, that we get a really firm and concrete grasp of history. Without genealogy the study of history is comparatively lifeless. No excuse is needed, therefore, for giving in this connection a tabulated abridgment of the discoveries of Mr. Waters concerning the forefathers of George Washington.[22] Beside the personal interest attaching to everything associated with that immortal name, this pedigree has interest and value as being in large measure typical. It is a fair sample of good English middle-class pedigrees, and it is typical as regards the ancestry of leading Cavalier families in Virginia; an inspection of many genealogies of those who came between 1649 and 1670 yields about the same general impression. Moreover, this pedigree is equally typical as regards the F ancestry of leading Puritan families in New England. The genealogies, for example, of Winthrop, Dudley, Saltonstall, Chauncey, or Baldwin give the same general impression as those of Randolph, or Cary, or Cabell, or Lee. The settlers of Virginia and of New England were opposed to each other in politics, but they belonged to one and the same stratum of society, and in their personal characteristics they were of the same excellent quality. To quote the lines of Sir William Jones, written as a paraphrase of the Greek epigram of Alcæus inscribed upon my title-page:—

WASHINGTON OF NORTHAMPTON AND VIRGINIA.

Arms.—Argent, two bars and in chief three mullets Gules. John Washington, of Whitfield, Lancashire, time of Henry VI. | | Robert Washington, of Warton, Lancashire, 2d son. | | John Washington, of Warton, m. Margaret Kitson, sister of Sir Thomas Kitson, alderman of London. | | Lawrence Washington, of Gray’s Inn, mayor of Northampton, obtained grant of Sulgrave Manor, 1539, d. 1584; m. Anne Pargiter, of Gretworth. | +--------------------+--------------------------------+ | | Robert Washington, Lawrence Washington, of Sulgrave, b. 1544; of Gray’s Inn, m. Elizabeth Light. register of High | Court of Chancery, | d. 1619. | | | | Lawrence Washington, Sir Lawrence Washington, of Sulgrave and Brington, register of High Court of d. 1616; m. Margaret Butler. Chancery, d. 1643. | | +--------+-----+--------------+ | | | | | Sir William Sir John Rev. Lawrence Lawrence Washington, Washington, Washington, Washington, d. 1662; m. Eleanor Gyse. d. 1643; m. Anne d. 1678. M. A., Fellow | Villiers, of Brasenose | half-sister of College, Oxford, | George Villiers, Rector of Purleigh, | Duke of d. before 1655. | Buckingham. | | | | | | +-----------------+ | | | | | Henry Washington, John Lawrence Washington, Elizabeth Washington, colonel in the Washington, b.1635, came to heiress, d. 1693; royalist army, b. 1631, Virginia, 1657. m. Earl Ferrers. governor of d. 1677; Worcester, came to d. 1664. Virginia, 1657; m. Anne Pope. | Lawrence Washington, d. 1697; m. Mildred, dau. of Augustine Warner. | | Augustine Washington, b. 1694, d. 1749; m. Mary Ball. | | George Washington, b. 1732, d. 1799. First President of the United States.

“What constitutes a State?
Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts
Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
No:—MEN, high-minded MEN,

“Men who their duties know,
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,
Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:
These constitute a State.”[23]

Such men were the Cavaliers of Virginia and the Puritans of New England.

Importance of the Cavalier element in Virginia.

There can be little doubt that these Cavaliers were the men who made the greatness of Virginia. To them it is due that her history represents ideas and enshrines events which mankind will always find interesting. It is apt to be the case that men who leave their country for reasons connected with conscience and principle, men who have once consecrated themselves to a cause, are picked men for ability and character. Such men are likely to exert upon any community which they may enter an influence immeasurably greater than an equal number of men taken at random. It matters little what side they may have espoused. Very few of the causes for which brave men have fought one another have been wholly right or wholly wrong. Our politics may be those of Samuel Adams, but we must admit that the Thomas Hutchinson type of mind and character is one which society could ill afford to lose. Of the gallant Cavaliers who drew the sword for King Charles, there were many who no more approved of his crooked methods and despotic aims than Hutchinson approved of the Stamp Act. No better illustration could be found than Lord Falkland, some of whose kinsmen emigrated to Virginia and played a conspicuous part there. A proper combination of circumstances was all that was required to bring the children of these royalists into active political alliance with the children of the Cromwellians.

Differences between New England and Virginia.

Both in Virginia and in New England, then, the principal element of the migration consisted of picked men and women of the same station in life, and differing only in their views of civil and ecclesiastical polity. The differences that grew up between the relatively aristocratic type of society in Virginia and the relatively democratic type in New England were due not at all to differences in the social quality of the settlers, but in some degree to their differences in church politics, and in a far greater degree to the different economic circumstances of Virginia and New England. It is worth our while to point out some of these contrasts and to indicate their effect upon the local government, the nature of which, perhaps more than anything else, determines the character of the community as aristocratic or democratic.

Settlement of New England by congregations.

That extreme Puritan theory of ecclesiastical polity, according to which each congregation was to be a little self-governing republic, had much to do with the way in which New England was colonized. The settlers came in congregations, led by their favourite ministers,—such men, for example, as Higginson and Cotton, Hooker and Davenport. When such men, famous in England for their bold preaching and imperilled thereby, decided to move to America, a considerable number of their parishioners would decide to accompany them, and similarly minded members of neighbouring churches would leave their own pastor and join in the migration. Such a group of people, arriving on the coast of Massachusetts, would naturally select some convenient locality, where they might build their houses near together and all go to the same church.

Land grants in Massachusetts.

This migration, therefore, was a movement, not of individuals or of separate families, but of church-congregations, and it continued to be so as the settlers made their way inland and westward. The first river towns of Connecticut were thus founded by congregations coming from Dorchester, Cambridge, and Watertown. This kind of settlement was favoured by the government of Massachusetts, which made grants of land, not to individuals but to companies of people who wished to live together and attend the same church.

Small farms.

It was also favoured by economic circumstances. The soil of New England was not favourable to the cultivation of great quantities of staple articles, such as rice or tobacco, so that there was nothing to tempt people to undertake extensive plantations. Most of the people lived on small farms, each family raising but little more than enough food for its own support; and the small size of the farms made it possible to have a good many in a compact neighbourhood. It appeared also that towns could be more easily defended against the Indians than scattered plantations; and this doubtless helped to keep people together, although if there had been any strong inducement for solitary pioneers to plunge into the great woods, as in later years so often happened at the West, it is not likely that any dread of the savages would have hindered them.

Township and village.

Thus the early settlers of New England came to live in townships. A township would consist of about as many farms as could be disposed within convenient distance from the meeting-house, where all the inhabitants, young and old, gathered every Sunday, coming on horseback or afoot. The meeting-house was thus centrally situated, and near it was the town pasture or “common,” with the school-house and the blockhouse, or rude fortress for defence against the Indians. For the latter building some commanding position was apt to be selected, and hence we so often find the old village streets of New England running along elevated ridges or climbing over beetling hilltops. Around the meeting-house and common the dwellings gradually clustered into a village, and after a while the tavern, store, and town-house made their appearance.

Social position of settlers in New England.

Among the people who thus tilled the farms and built up the villages of New England, the differences in what we should call social position, though noticeable, were not extreme. While in England some had been esquires or country magistrates, or “lords of the manor,”—a phrase which does not mean a member of the peerage, but a landed proprietor with dependent tenants,—some had been yeomen, or persons holding farms by some free kind of tenure; some had been artisans or tradesmen in cities. All had for many generations been more or less accustomed to self-government and to public meetings for discussing local affairs. That self-government, especially as far as church matters were concerned, they were stoutly bent upon maintaining and extending. Indeed, that was what they had crossed the ocean for. Under these circumstances they developed a kind of government which has remained practically unchanged down to the present day. In the town meeting the government is the entire adult male population. Its merits, from a genuine democratic point of view, have long been recognized, but in these days of rampant political quackery they are worth recalling to mind, even at the cost of a brief digression.

Some merits of the town meeting.

The “magic fund” delusion.

Within its proper sphere, government by town meeting is the form of government most effectively under watch and control. Everything is done in the full daylight of publicity. The specific objects for which public money is to be appropriated are discussed in the presence of everybody, and any one who disapproves of any of these objects, or of the way in which it is proposed to obtain it, has an opportunity to declare his opinions. Under this form of government people are not so liable to bewildering delusions as under other forms. I refer especially to the delusion that “the Government” is a sort of mysterious power, possessed of a magic inexhaustible fund of wealth, and able to do all manner of things for the benefit of “the People.” Some such notion as this, more often implied than expressed, is very common, and it is inexpressibly dear to demagogues. It is the prolific root from which springs that luxuriant crop of humbug upon which political tricksters thrive as pigs fatten upon corn. In point of fact no such government, armed with a magic fund of its own, has ever existed upon the earth. No government has ever yet used any money for public purposes which it did not first take from its own people,—unless when it may have plundered it from some other people in victorious warfare.

The inhabitant of a New England town is perpetually reminded that “the Government” is “the People.” Although he may think loosely about the government of his state or the still more remote government at Washington, he is kept pretty close to the facts where local affairs are concerned, and in this there is a political training of no small value.

Educational value of the town meeting.

In the kind of discussion which it provokes, in the necessity of facing argument with argument and of keeping one’s temper under control, the town meeting is the best political training school in existence. Its educational value is far higher than that of the newspaper, which, in spite of its many merits as a diffuser of information, is very apt to do its best to bemuddle and sophisticate plain facts. The period when town meetings were most important from the wide scope of their transactions was the period of earnest and sometimes stormy discussion that ushered in our Revolutionary War. In those days great principles of government were discussed with a wealth of knowledge and stated with masterly skill in town meeting.

Primogeniture and entail in Virginia.

In Virginia the economic circumstances were very different from those of New England, and the effects were seen in a different kind of local institutions. In New England the system of small holdings facilitated the change from primogeniture to the Kentish custom of gavelkind, with which many of the settlers were already familiar, in which the property of an intestate is equally divided among the children.[24] In Virginia, on the other hand, the large estates, cultivated by servile labour, were kept together by the combined customs of primogeniture and entail, which lasted until they were overthrown by Thomas Jefferson in 1776. In this circumstance, more than in anything else, originated the more aristocratic features in the local institutions of Virginia. To this should be added the facts that before the eighteenth century there was a large servile class of whites, to which there was nothing even remotely analogous in New England; and that the introduction of negro slavery, which was beginning to assume noticeable dimensions about 1670, served to affix a stigma upon manual labour.

Virginia parishes.

The vestry a close corporation.

In view of this group of circumstances we need not wonder that in Old Virginia there were no town meetings. The distances between plantations coöperated with the distinction between classes to prevent the growth of such an institution. The English parish, with its churchwardens and vestry and clerk, was reproduced in Virginia under the same name, but with some noteworthy peculiarities. If the whole body of ratepayers had assembled in vestry meeting, to enact by-laws and assess taxes, the course of development would have been like that of the New England town meeting. But instead of this the vestry, which exercised the chief authority in the parish, was composed of twelve chosen men. This was not government by a primary assembly, it was representative government. At first the twelve vestrymen were elected by the people of the parish, and thus resembled the selectmen of New England; but in 1662 “they obtained the power of filling vacancies in their own number,” so that they became what is called a “close corporation,” and the people had nothing to do with choosing them. Strictly speaking, that was not representative government; it was a step on the road that leads towards oligarchical or despotic government. It was, as we shall see, one of the steps ineffectually opposed in Bacon’s rebellion.

Powers of the vestry.

It was the vestry, thus constituted, that apportioned the parish taxes, appointed the churchwardens, presented the minister for induction into office, and acted as overseers of the poor. The minister presided in all vestry meetings. His salary was paid in tobacco, and in 1696 it was fixed by law at 16,000 pounds of tobacco yearly. In many parishes the churchwardens were the collectors of the parish taxes. The other officers, such as the sexton and the parish clerk, were appointed either by the minister or by the vestry.

With the local government thus administered, we see that the larger part of the people had little directly to do. Nevertheless, in those small neighbourhoods government could be kept in full sight of the people, and so long as its proceedings went on in broad daylight and were sustained by public sentiment, all was well. As Jefferson said, “The vestrymen are usually the most discreet farmers, so distributed through the parish that every part of it may be under the immediate eye of some one of them. They are well acquainted with the details and economy of private life, and they find sufficient inducements to execute their charge well, in their philanthropy, in the approbation of their neighbours, and the distinction which that gives them.”[25]

The county was the unit of representation.

The difference, however, between the New England township and the Virginia parish, in respect of self-government, was striking enough. We have now to note a further difference. In New England, the township was the unit of representation in the colonial legislature; but in Virginia the parish was not the unit of representation. The county was that unit. In the colonial legislature of Virginia the representatives sat, not for parishes but for counties. The difference is very significant. As the political life of New England was in a manner built up out of the political life of the towns, so the political life of Virginia was built up out of the political life of the counties. This was partly because the vast plantations were not grouped about a compact village nucleus like the small farms at the North, and partly because there was not in Virginia that Puritan theory of the church according to which each congregation is a self-governing democracy. The conditions which made the New England town meeting were absent. The only alternative was some kind of representative government, and for this the county was a small enough area. The county in Virginia was much smaller than in Massachusetts or Connecticut. In a few instances the county consisted of only a single parish; in some cases it was divided into two parishes, but oftener into three or more.

The county court was virtually a close corporation.

In Virginia, as in England and in New England, the county was an area for the administration of justice. There were usually in each county eight justices of the peace, and their court was the counterpart of the quarter sessions in England. They were appointed by the governor, but it was customary for them to nominate candidates for the governor to appoint, so that practically the court filled its own vacancies and was a close corporation, like the parish vestry. Such an arrangement tended to keep the general supervision and control of things in the hands of a few families.

The county seat or Court House.

This county court usually met as often as once a month in some convenient spot answering to the shire town of England or New England. More often than not, the place originally consisted of the court-house and very little else, and was named accordingly from the name of the county, as Hanover Court House or Fairfax Court House; and the small shire towns that have grown up in such spots often retain these names to the present day. Such names occur commonly in Virginia, West Virginia, and South Carolina, and occasionally elsewhere. Their number has diminished from the tendency to omit the phrase “Court House,” leaving the name of the county for that of the shire town, as for example in Culpeper, Va. In New England the process of naming has been just the reverse; as in Hartford County, Conn., or Worcester County, Mass., which have taken their names from the shire towns. Here, as in so many cases, whole chapters of history are wrapped up in geographical names.[26]

Powers of the court.

The sheriff.

The county court in Virginia had jurisdiction in criminal actions not involving peril of life or limb, and in civil suits where the sum at stake exceeded twenty-five shillings. Smaller suits could be tried by a single justice. The court also had charge of the probate and administration of wills. The court appointed its own clerk, who kept the county records. It superintended the construction and repair of bridges and highways, and for this purpose divided the county into “precincts,” and appointed annually for each precinct a highway surveyor. The court also seems to have appointed constables, one for each precinct. The justices could themselves act as coroners, but annually two or more coroners for each parish were appointed by the governor. As we have seen that the parish taxes—so much for salaries of minister and clerk, so much for care of church buildings, so much for the relief of the poor, etc.—were computed and assessed by the vestry; so the county taxes, for care of court-house and jail, roads and bridges, coroner’s fees, and allowances to the representatives sent to the colonial legislature, were computed and assessed by the county court. The general taxes for the colony were estimated by a committee of the legislature, as well as the county’s share of the colony tax. The taxes for the county, and sometimes the taxes for the parish also, were collected by the sheriff. They were usually paid, not in money, but in tobacco; and the sheriff was the custodian of this tobacco, responsible for its proper disposal. The sheriff was thus not only the officer for executing the judgments of the court, but he was also county treasurer and collector, and thus exercised powers almost as great as those of the sheriff in England in the twelfth century. He also presided over elections for representatives to the legislature. It is interesting to observe how this very important officer was chosen. “Each year the court presented the names of three of its members to the governor, who appointed one, generally the senior justice, to be the sheriff of the county for the ensuing year.”[27] Here again we see this close corporation, the county court, keeping the control of things within its own hands.

The county lieutenant.

One other important county officer needs to be mentioned. In early New England each town had its train-band or company of militia, and the companies in each county united to form the county regiment. In Virginia it was just the other way. Each county raised a certain number of troops, and because it was not convenient for the men to go many miles from home in assembling for purposes of drill, the county was subdivided into military districts, each with its company, according to rules laid down by the governor. The military command in each county was vested in the county lieutenant, an officer answering in many respects to the lord lieutenant of the English shire at that period. Usually he was a member of the governor’s council, and as such exercised sundry judicial functions. He bore the honorary title of “colonel,” and was to some extent regarded as the governor’s deputy; but in later times his duties were confined entirely to military matters.[28]

If now we sum up the contrasts between local government in Virginia and that in New England, we observe:—

1. That in New England the management of local affairs was mostly in the hands of town officers, the county being superadded for certain purposes, chiefly judicial; while in Virginia the management was chiefly in the hands of county officers, though certain functions, chiefly ecclesiastical, were reserved to the parish.

2. That in New England the local magistrates were almost always, with the exception of justices, chosen by the people; while in Virginia, though some of them were nominally appointed by the governor, yet in practice they generally contrived to appoint themselves,—in other words, the local boards practically filled their own vacancies and were self-perpetuating.

Jefferson’s opinion of township government.

These differences are striking and profound. There can be no doubt that, as Thomas Jefferson clearly saw, in the long run the interests of political liberty are much safer under the New England system than under the Virginia system. Jefferson said: “Those wards, called townships in New England, are the vital principle of their governments, and have proved themselves the wisest invention ever devised by the wit of man for the perfect exercise of self-government, and for its preservation.[29] ... As Cato, then, concluded every speech with the words Carthago delenda est, so do I every opinion with the injunction: ‘Divide the counties into wards!’”[30]

“Court day.”

We must, however, avoid the mistake of making too much of this contrast. As already hinted, in those rural societies where people generally knew one another, its effects were not so far-reaching as they would be in the more complicated society of to-day. Even though Virginia had not the town meeting, “it had its familiar court-day,” which “was a holiday for all the countryside, especially in the fall and spring. From all directions came in the people on horseback, in wagons, and afoot. On the court-house green assembled, in indiscriminate confusion, people of all classes,—the hunter from the backwoods, the owner of a few acres, the grand proprietor, and the grinning, heedless negro. Old debts were settled, and new ones made; there were auctions, transfers of property, and, if election times were near, stump-speaking.”[31]

Virginia prolific in great leaders.

For seventy years or more before the Declaration of Independence the matters of general public concern, about which stump speeches were made on Virginia court-days, were very similar to those that were discussed in Massachusetts town meetings when representatives were to be chosen for the legislature. Such questions generally related to some real or alleged encroachment upon popular liberties by the royal governor, who, being appointed and sent from beyond sea, was apt to have ideas and purposes of his own that conflicted with those of the people. This perpetual antagonism to the governor, who represented British imperial interference with American local self-government, was an excellent schooling in political liberty, alike for Virginia and for Massachusetts. When the stress of the Revolution came, these two leading colonies cordially supported each other, and their political characteristics were reflected in the kind of achievements for which each was especially distinguished. The Virginia system, concentrating the administration of local affairs in the hands of a few county families, was eminently favourable for developing skilful and vigorous leadership. And while in the history of Massachusetts during the Revolution we are chiefly impressed with the remarkable degree in which the mass of the people exhibited the kind of political training that nothing in the world except the habit of parliamentary discussion can impart; on the other hand, Virginia at that time gave us—in Washington, Jefferson, Henry, Mason, Madison, and Marshall, to mention no others—such a group of leaders as has seldom been equalled.

CHAPTER XI.
BACON’S REBELLION.

The Navigation Act of 1651.

The rapid development of maritime commerce in the seventeenth century soon furnished a new occasion for human folly and greed to assert themselves in acts of legislation. Crude mediæval methods of robbery began to give place to the ingenious modern methods in which men’s pockets are picked under the specious guise of public policy. Your mediæval baron would allow no ship or boat to pass his Rhenish castle without paying what he saw fit to extort for the privilege, and at the end of his evil career he was apt to compound with conscience and buy a ticket to heaven by building a chapel to the Virgin. Your modern manufacturer obtains legislative aid in fleecing his fellow-countrymen, while he seeks popularity by bestowing upon the public a part of his ill-gotten gains in the shape of a new college or a town library. This change from the more brutal to the more subtle devices for living upon the fruits of other men’s labour was conspicuous during the seventeenth century, and one of the most glaring instances of it was the Navigation Act of 1651, which forbade the importation of goods into England except in English ships, or ships of the nation that produced the goods. This foolish act was intended to cripple the Dutch carrying trade, and speedily led to a lamentable and disgraceful war between England and Holland. In its application to America it meant that English colonies could trade only with England in English ships, and it was generally greeted with indignation. Cromwell, however, did little or nothing to enforce it in America. Charles II.’s government was more active in the matter and soon became detested. One of the earliest causes of the American Revolution was thus set in operation. The policy begun in the Navigation Act was one of the grievances that kept Massachusetts in a chronic quarrel with Charles II. during the whole of his reign, and it was a source of no less irritation in Virginia.

The second Navigation Act.

A second Navigation Act, passed at the beginning of the reign of Charles II., prescribed that “no goods or commodities whatsoever shall be imported into or exported from any of the king’s lands, islands, plantations, or territories in Asia, Africa, or America, in any other than English, Irish, or plantation built ships, and whereof the master and at least three-fourths of the mariners shall be Englishmen, under forfeiture of ships and goods.” It was further provided that “no sugar, tobacco, cotton, wool, indigo, ginger, fustic and other dyeing woods, of the growth or manufacture of our Asian, African, or American colonies, shall be shipped from the said colonies to any place but to England, Ireland, or to some other of his Majesty’s said plantations, there to be landed, under forfeiture of goods and ships.”

Bland’s remonstrance.

The motive in these restrictions is obvious enough. Their effects were ably set forth in 1677, in a memorial by John Bland, a sagacious London merchant, whose grasp of the principles of political economy was very remarkable for that age.[32] In order that merchants in England might buy Virginia tobacco very cheap, the demand for it was restricted by cutting off the export to foreign markets. In order that they might sell their goods to Virginia at exorbitant prices, the Virginians were prohibited from buying anything elsewhere. The shameless rapacity of these merchants was such as might have been expected under such fostering circumstances. If the planter shipped his own tobacco to England, the charges for freight would be put so high as to leave him scarcely any margin of profit.

Some direct consequences.

Such restrictions were apt to have other effects than those contemplated. The “protected” merchants chuckled over their sagacity in keeping Dutchmen away from Virginia, for thus it would become possible to make the Dutchmen pay three or four shillings in England for tobacco that cost a ha’penny in the colony. But the worthy burghers of the Netherlands took a different view of the matter. They began planting tobacco for themselves in the East Indies, so that it became less necessary to buy it of the English. Another somewhat curious consequence may be stated in Bland’s own words: “Again, if the Hollanders must not trade to Virginia, how shall the planters dispose of their tobacco? The English will not buy it [all], for what the Hollander carried thence was a sort of tobacco not ... used by us in England, but merely to transport for Holland. Will it not then perish on the planters’ hands? which undoubtedly is not only an apparent loss of so much stock and commoditie to the plantations who suffer thereby, but for want of its employment an infinite prejudice to the commerce in general.”

Some indirect consequences.

There was yet another aspect of the matter. “I demand then, in the next place, which way shall the charge of the governments be maintained, if the Hollanders be debarred trade in Virginia and Maryland, or anything raised to defray the constant and yearly levies for the securing the inhabitants from invasions of the Indians? How shall the forts and public places be built and repaired, with many other incident charges daily arising, which must be taken care for, else all will come to destruction? for when the Hollanders traded thither, they paid upon every anchor of brandy (which is about 25 gallons) 5 shillings import brought in by them, and upon every hogshead of tobacco carried thence 10 shillings; and since they were debarred trade, our English, as they did not, whilst the Hollander traded there, pay anything, neither would they when they traded not ...; so that all these charges being taxed on the poor planters, it hath so impoverished them that they scarce can recover wherewith to cover their nakedness. As foreign trade makes rich and prosperous any country that hath within it any staple commodities to invite them thither, so it makes men industrious, striving with others to gather together into societies, and building of towns, and nothing doth it sooner than the concourse of shipping, as we may see before our eyes, Dover and Deal what they are grown into, the one by the Flanders trade, the other by ships riding in the Downs.”

Exposure of the humbug.

But if in spite of all these arguments the Navigation Act must stand, then, says this acute writer, “let me on the behalf of the said colonies of Virginia and Maryland make these following proposals, which I hope will appear but equitable:—

“First, that the traders to Virginia and Maryland from England shall furnish and supply the planters and inhabitants of those colonies with all sorts of commodities and necessaries which they may want or desire, at as cheap rates and prices as the Hollanders used to have when the Hollander was admitted to trade thither.

“Secondly, that the said traders out of England to those colonies shall not only buy of the planters such tobacco ... as is fit for England, but take off all that shall be yearly made by them, at as good rates and prices as the Hollanders used to give for the same, by bills of exchange or otherwise....

“Thirdly, that if any of the inhabitants or planters of the said colonies shall desire to ship his tobacco or goods for England, that the traders from England to Virginia and Maryland shall let them have freight in their ships at as low and cheap rates as they used to have when the Hollanders and other nations traded thither.

“Fourthly, that for maintenance of the governments, raising of forces to withstand the invasions of the Indians, building of forts and other public works needful in such new discovered countries, the traders from England to pay there in Virginia and Maryland as much yearly as was received of the Hollanders and strangers as did trade thither, whereby the country may not have the whole burden to lie on their hard and painful labour and industry, which ought to be encouraged but not discouraged.

“Thus having proposed in my judgment what is both just and equal, to all such as would not have the Hollanders permitted to trade into Virginia and Maryland, I hope if they will not agree hereunto, it will easily appear it is their own profits and interest they seek, not those colonies’s nor your Majesty’s service, but in contrary the utter ruin of all the inhabitants and planters there; and if they perish, that vast territory must be left desolate, to the exceeding disadvantage of this nation and your Majesty’s honour and revenue.”

Bland’s own proposal.

After this keen exposure of the protectionist humbug the author concludes by offering his own proposal. “Let all Hollanders and other nations whatsoever freely trade into Virginia and Maryland, and bring thither and carry thence whatever they please,” with only one qualification. It had been urged that, without legislative aid, English shipping could not compete successfully with that of other countries. Insatiableness of commercial greed begets a fidgetty, unreasoning dread of anything like free competition. Just as the Frenchman puts tariff duties upon German goods because he knows he cannot compete with Germans in a free market, while at the same moment the German puts tariff duties upon French goods because he knows he cannot compete with Frenchmen in a free market, so it was with men’s arguments two centuries ago. It was urged that French and Dutch ships could be built and navigated at smaller expense than English ships; and this point our author meets by suggesting a differential tonnage-duty “to counterpoise the cheapness,” only great care must be taken not to make it prohibitory.

Distress caused by low price of tobacco.

The principal effect of the Navigation Act upon Virginia and Maryland was to lower the price of tobacco while it increased the cost of all articles imported from England. As tobacco was the circulating medium in these colonies, the effect was practically a depreciation of the currency with the usual disastrous consequences. There was an inflation of prices, and all commodities became harder to get. Efforts were made from time to time to contract the currency by curtailing the tobacco crop. It was proposed, for example, in 1662, that no tobacco should be planted in Maryland or Virginia for the following year. Such proposals recurred from time to time, but it proved impossible to secure concerted action between the two colonies. In 1664 the whole tobacco crop of Virginia was worth less than £3 15s. for each person in the colony. In 1666 so much tobacco was left on the hands of the planters that a determined effort was made to enforce the cessation of planting, and after much discussion an agreement was reached between Maryland, Virginia, and the new settlements in Carolina, but the plan was defeated by disapproval in Maryland which led to a veto from Lord Baltimore. In 1667 the price of tobacco fell to a ha’penny a pound, and Thomas Ludwell, writing to Lord Berkeley in London, “declared that there were but three influences restraining the smaller landowners of Virginia from rising in rebellion, namely, faith in the mercy of God, loyalty to the king, and affection for the government.”[33]

The Surry protest, 1673.

The discontent sometimes took the form of a disposition to resist the collection of taxes, as in Surry, in December, 1673, when “a company of seditious and rude people to y^e number of ffourteene did unlawfully Assemble at y^e pish church of Lawnes Creeke, w^th Intent to declare they would not pay theire publiq taxes, & y^t they Expected diverse oth^rs to meete them, who faileing they did not put theire wicked design in Execution.” Nevertheless these persons assembled again, some three weeks later, in an old field “called y^e Divell’s field,” where they passed divers lawless resolutions interspersed with heated harangues. In particular one Roger Delke did say, “we will burne all before one shall Suffer,” and when brought before the magistrates, “y^e s^d Delke Acknowledged he said y^e same words, & being asked why they meet at y^e church he said by reason theire taxes were soe unjust, & they would not pay it.”[34] The ringleaders in this affair were fined, but Governor Berkeley remitted the fines, provided “they acknowledged their faults and pay the court charges.”

The Arlington-Culpeper grant, 1673.

Another cause of trouble was the king’s recklessness in rewarding public services or gratifying favourites by extensive grants of wild land in America. It was an easy way to pay debts, for it cost the king nothing, and all the labour and expense of making the grant valuable fell upon the grantee. To many of these grants there could, of course, be no objection. Those that founded the Carolinas and Pennsylvania and the Hudson Bay Company were all proper enough. The trouble began when territory already granted and occupied by Englishmen was given away again. There were some complicated and obscure instances of this in New England, but a flagrant and exasperating case occurred in Virginia in 1673, when Charles made a grant of the whole country to the Earl of Arlington and Lord Culpeper, to hold for thirty-one years at a yearly rent of 40 shillings to be paid at Michaelmas.

Some of its effects.

The practical effect of this grant was to convert Virginia into something like a proprietary government, with Arlington and Culpeper for proprietors. It was, of course, not the intention to disturb individuals in the possession of lands already acquired by a valid title; but escheated lands were to go to these proprietors instead of the crown, and there was an opportunity for grievous injustice, for many escheated lands were occupied by persons who had purchased them in good faith. The lord proprietors were to receive the revenues of the colony, to appoint all public officers, and to present pastors for installation. In short, the entire control of the internal administration of the colony was to be placed in their hands, and against such favourites of the king an appeal at any time was likely to be of little avail. It is needless to add that the grant was made without consulting the Virginians. For people who had lavished so much loyalty upon a worthless sovereign, this was a scurvy requital. To find its match for ingratitude one must go to the story of Inkle and Yarico. No sooner did the House of Burgesses hear of it than they sent commissioners to England to make an energetic protest. They found the king rather surprised to hear that the Virginians cared anything about such a trifle; he promised to satisfy everybody, and that naturally took some time, so that the matter was still under discussion when things came to a blaze in Virginia.

Character of Sir William Berkeley.

The unprincipled government of Charles II. in England was matched in some respects by the oppressive administration of Sir William Berkeley in Virginia. We have already met this gentleman on several occasions; it is now time to notice him more particularly. He was son of Sir Maurice Berkeley, who was one of the members of the London Company when it was first organized in 1606. Several members of the family were interested in American affairs. Sir William’s elder brother, Lord Berkeley of Stratton, was a favourite of Charles II., and one of the group of proprietors to whom that king granted Carolina in 1663. Sir William was an aristocrat to the ends of his fingers, a man of velvet and gold lace, a brave soldier, a devoted husband, a chivalrous friend, and withal as narrow and bigoted and stubborn a creature as one could find anywhere. He had no sympathy with common people, nor any very clear sense of duty toward them. When he first arrived in Virginia in 1642, at the age of thirty-four, he was considered very gracious and affable in manners, and during the ten years of his first governorship he seems to have been generally popular. From 1652 to 1660 he lived in retirement on his rural estate of Greenspring near Jamestown, where he had an orchard of more than 2,000 fruit trees—apples, pears, quinces, peaches, and apricots—and a stable of seventy fine horses. There he entertained Cavalier guests and drank healths to King Charles until he was once more called to Jamestown to be governor. In 1661 he went to London and stayed for a year, and it was afterwards thought that his visit with his froward and hot-tempered brother[35] worked a change in him for the worse. Berkeley’s errand in London was to oppose an attempt which the old London Company was making to have its charter restored; the people of Virginia had long ago passed the stage at which they regretted the overthrow of the Company. During his stay in London, Berkeley saw one of his own plays performed at the theatre, for this courtier and Cavalier dabbled in literature. Of this tragi-comedy, “The Lost Lady,” Pepys tells us in his Diary that at first he did not care much for it, but liked it better the next time he saw it.[36]

Corruption and extortion.

The Long Assembly, 1661-1676.

Berkeley’s violent temper.

After Berkeley’s return to Virginia the evils of Charles’s misgovernment soon began to show themselves. A swarm of place-hunters beset the king, who carelessly gave them appointments in Virginia, or recommended them to Berkeley for places. Judges and sheriffs, revenue collectors and parsons, were thus appointed without reference to fitness, with the natural results; the law was ill-administered, the public money embezzled, and the church scandalized. The custom-house charges on exported tobacco afforded chances for extortion and blackmailing, of which abundant advantage was taken, and Berkeley was not the sort of man who was quick to punish the rogues of his own party. Enemies accused him of profiting by the maladministration of his officials, and he himself confessed in a rather cynical letter to Lord Arlington that, while advancing years had taken away his ambition, they had left him covetous. A little group of wealthy planters, friends of Berkeley, obtained places on the council, and contrived to have everything their own way for several years. With their aid the governor tried to do away with the popular election of representatives. Amid the blaze of royalist exultation over the restoration of monarchy, the House of Burgesses elected in 1661 contained a large majority of members who believed in high prerogative and divine right; and Berkeley, having thus secured a legislature that was quite to his mind, kept it alive for fifteen years, until 1676, simply by the ingenious expedient of adjourning it from year to year, and refusing to issue writs for a new election. The effect of such things was to carry more than one staunch Cavalier over into what was by no means a Puritan but none the less a strong opposition party. As this opposition could not find adequate voice in the legislature, it became ready for an explosion. As Berkeley’s old popularity ebbed away he grew arrogant and cross, and now and then some instance of mean vindictiveness swelled the rising tide of hatred against him. He became subject to fits of violent passion. The famous Quaker preacher, William Edmundson, who visited Virginia in 1672, called on the governor and sought to intercede with him for the Society of Friends, the members of which were shamefully treated in that colony. “He was very peevish and brittle,” says Edmundson, “and I could fasten nothing on him, with all the soft arguments I could use.... The next day was the men’s meeting at William Wright’s house [where I met] Major-General Bennett.... He asked me ‘How I was treated by the governor?’ I told him ‘he was brittle and peevish.’... He asked me ‘if the governor called me dog, rogue, etc.’ I said ‘No.’ ‘Then,’ said he, ‘you took him in his best humour, those being his usual terms when he is angry, for he is an enemy to every appearance of good.’”[37]

Beginning of the Indian war, 1675.

Such was the governor of Virginia and such the state of things there, when to the many troubles that were goading the people to rebellion the horrors of the tomahawk and scalping-knife were suddenly added. In 1672, after a fearful struggle of twenty years’ duration, the Five Nations of New York had completely overthrown and nearly annihilated their kinsmen the Susquehannocks. The defeated barbarians, slowly retreating southward, roamed on both sides of the Potomac, while parties of the victors, mostly from the Seneca tribe, pursued and harassed them. Early in the summer of 1675 some Algonquins of the Doeg tribe, dwelling in Stafford County, not far from the site of Fredericksburg, got into a dispute with one of the settlers and stole some of his pigs. The thieves were pursued, and in the chase one or two of them were shot. A few days afterward a herdsman was found mortally wounded at the door of his cabin, and said with his dying breath that it was Doegs who had done it. Then the county lieutenant of Stafford turned out with his militia to punish the offenders. This officer was Colonel George Mason, whose cavalry troop had gone down before Cromwell’s resistless blows in the crowning mercy at Worcester. He was great-grandfather of the George Mason who sat in the Federal Convention of 1787. One party of Colonel Mason’s men overtook and slew eleven of the Algonquins, and another party at some distance in the forest had already shot fourteen red men, when a chief came running up to Colonel Mason and told him that these latter were friendly Susquehannocks, and that the murderers of the herdsman were neither Algonquins nor Susquehannocks, but Senecas. The firing was instantly stopped, but the unfortunate affair had evil consequences. Murders by Indians along the Potomac became frequent. The Susquehannocks occupied an old blockhouse on the Maryland side of the river, and a force of Marylanders, commanded by Major Thomas Truman, marched out to dislodge them.

John Washington.

At the request of the Maryland government, Virginia sent a party to coöperate in this task. Its commander bore a name which his great-grandson was to make forever illustrious. Colonel John Washington had come over from England in 1657, with his younger brother Lawrence, and settled in Westmoreland County. He was now forty-four years old, a man of wealth and influence, a leading judge, and member of the House of Burgesses.

The five Susquehannock envoys.

When the Virginia troops crossed the Potomac they found their Maryland allies assembled before the blockhouse, with five Susquehannocks in custody. These Indians were envoys who had come out for a parley, but had apparently taken alarm and sought to escape, whereupon Major Truman seized and detained them until the Virginians should arrive. Then Colonel Washington, with his next in command, Major Isaac Allerton, proceeded to interrogate the Indians, while Major Truman listened in silence. Washington demanded satisfaction for the murders and other outrages committed in Virginia, but the Indians denied everything and declared that their deadly enemies the Senecas were the sole offenders. Washington then asked how it happened that several canoe-loads of beef and pork, stolen from the plantations, had been carried into the Susquehannock fort; was it their foes the Senecas who were thus supplying them with food? And how did it happen that a party of Susquehannocks just captured in Virginia were dressed in the clothes of Englishmen lately murdered? The falsehood was too palpable. The guilt of the Susquehannocks was plain, and they must either make amends or taste the rigours of war.

There can be little doubt that Colonel Washington was right. Then, as always until after 1763, the Long House was from end to end the steadfast ally of the English, and nothing could be more unlikely than that one of its tribes should have been guilty of these murders. It is quite clear that the Susquehannocks lied, with the double purpose of saving themselves and bringing down vengeance upon the Senecas. The first murders had been committed by Algonquins, and evidently the Susquehannocks had joined in the work in retaliation for the unfortunate mistake committed by Colonel Mason’s men.

The killing of the envoys.

At the close of the conference Major Truman called to Colonel Washington, asking if these were not impudent rogues to deny the murders they had done, when at that very moment the corpses of nine of their own tribe were lying unburied at Hurston’s plantation, where in a fight the defenders of the place had just slain them. As the envoys persisted in denying that these dead Indians were Susquehannocks, Washington suggested that they should be taken to Hurston’s and confronted with the bodies. So Truman’s men marched away with the five envoys, and presently put them to death, “w^ch was occation,” says one of the Virginian witnesses, “y^t much amaized & startled us & ou^r Comanders, being a thing y^t was never imagined or expected.”[38]

The killing of these envoys was in violation of a rule that holds in all warfare, whether savage or civilized, and Truman was impeached for it in the Maryland assembly; but owing to an obstinate disagreement between the two houses as to the penalty to be inflicted, he escaped without further punishment than the loss of his seat in the council.

Berkeley’s perverseness.

Indian atrocities.

Colonel Washington’s force proved too small to hold in check the infuriated Susquehannocks, who seem to have entered into alliance with the Algonquins of the country. Soon the whole border, from the Potomac to the falls of the James, was swarming with painted barbarians, and day after day renewed the tale of burning homes and slaughtered wives and children. This sort of thing went on through the fall and winter, driving people into frenzy, but Berkeley would not call out a military force for the occasion. He insisted that it was enough to instruct the county lieutenants, each in his county, to keep his militia in readiness. It was charged against him that fear of losing his share in a very lucrative fur trade made him unwilling to engage in war with the Indians. However this may have been, the spirit of the people had become so mutinous that he was probably afraid to entrust himself to the protection of a popular militia. Whatever the motive of his conduct, its consequences were highly disastrous. On a single day in January, 1676, within a circle of ten miles’ radius, thirty-six people were murdered; and when the governor was notified, he coolly answered that “nothing could be done until the assembly’s regular meeting in March”![39] Meanwhile the work of firebrand and tomahawk went on. In Essex County (then known as Rappahannock), sixty plantations were destroyed within seventeen days. It was thought by some persons that the Indians were stimulated by reports of the fearful havoc which their brethren were making in New England, where King Philip’s war was raging. Surely the wrath of the planters must have been redoubled when they heard of the stalwart troop led by Josiah Winslow into the Narragansett country, and noted the stern vengeance it wrought there on a December day of 1675, and contrasted these things with what they saw before them. As the Charles City people afterward declared with bitterness, “we do acknowledge we were so unadvised then ... as to believe it our duty incumbent on us both by the laws of God and nature, and our duty to his sacred Majesty, notwithstanding ... Sir William Berkeley’s prohibition, ... to take up arms ... for the just defence of ourselves, wives, and children, and this his Majesty’s country.”[40] At length, in March, the Long Assembly, as people called it, which had been elected in 1661, was convened for the last time; a force of 500 men was gathered, and all things were in readiness for a campaign, when Berkeley by proclamation disbanded the little army, declaring that the frontier forts, if duly prepared and equipped, afforded all the protection the country needed. To many people this seemed to be adding insult to injury; for while no fortress could prevent the skulking approach of the enemy through the tangled wilderness, it was widely believed that the repairing of forts was simply a device for enabling the governor’s friends to embezzle the money granted for the purpose.

Nathaniel Bacon.

Drummond and Lawrence.

At this time there was a young man of eight-and-twenty living on his plantation on James River, hard by Curl’s Wharf. His name was Nathaniel Bacon, son of Thomas Bacon, of Friston Hall, Suffolk, a kinsman of the great Lord Bacon.[41] His mother was daughter of a Suffolk knight, Sir Robert Brooke. He had studied law at Gray’s Inn, and after extensive travel on the continent of Europe had come to Virginia with his young wife shortly before the beginning of these Indian troubles. His father’s cousin, Nathaniel Bacon, of King’s Creek, who had dwelt in the colony since about 1650, was a man of large wealth and influence. The abilities and character of the young Nathaniel were rated so high that he already had a seat in the council. He was clearly an impetuous youth, brave and cordial, fiery at times, and gifted with a persuasive tongue. He was in person tall and lithe, with swarthy complexion and melancholy eyes, and a somewhat lofty demeanour. One writer says that his discourse was “pestilent and prevalent logical,” and that it “tended to atheism,” which doubtless means that he criticised things freely. Two other prominent men were much of his way of thinking. One was a hard-headed and canny Scotchman, William Drummond, who had been governor of the Albemarle colony in Carolina.[42] The other was Richard Lawrence, an Oxford graduate of scholarly tastes, whom an old chronicler has labelled for posterity as “thoughtful Mr. Lawrence.” Both Drummond and Lawrence were wealthy men, and lived, it is said, in the two best built and best furnished houses in Jamestown, which, it should be remembered, had scarcely more than a score of houses all told.

Bacon’s plantation attacked, May, 1676.

He defeats the Indians.

Beside the estate where Bacon lived, he had another one farther up, on the site still marked by the name “Bacon Quarter Branch” in the suburbs of Richmond. “If the redskins meddle with me,” quoth the fiery young man, “damn my blood but I’ll harry them, commission or no commission!” One May morning in 1676 news came to Curl’s Wharf that the Indians had attacked the upper estate, and killed Bacon’s overseer and one of his servants. A crowd of armed planters on horseback assembled, and offered to march under Bacon’s lead. He made an eloquent speech, accepted the command, and sent a courier to the governor to ask for a commission. Berkeley returned an evasive answer, whereupon Bacon sent him a polite note, thanking him for the promised commission, and forthwith started on his campaign. He had not gone many miles when a proclamation from the governor overtook him, commanding the party to disperse. A few obeyed; the rest kept on their way and inflicted a severe defeat upon the Indians. Then Bacon and his volunteers marched homeward.[43]

Election of a new House of Burgesses.

Arrest of Bacon.

Meanwhile the indignant Berkeley had gathered a troop of horse and taken the field in person to arrest this refractory young man. But suddenly came the news that the whole York peninsula was in revolt. The governor must needs hasten back to Jamestown, where he soon realized that if he would avoid civil war he must dissolve his moss-grown House of Burgesses and issue writs for a new election. This was done. In anticipation of such an emergency, an act had been passed in 1670 restricting the suffrage by a property qualification, which had called forth much indignation, since previously universal suffrage had prevailed. In this excited election of 1676 the restriction was openly disregarded in many places, and unqualified persons voted illegally. Bacon offered himself as a candidate for Henrico County and was elected by a large majority. As he drew near to Jamestown in his sloop with thirty followers, a war-ship lay at anchor awaiting him, and the high sheriff arrested him with his whole party. He was taken into the brick State House and confronted with the governor, who simply said, “Mr. Bacon, have you forgot to be a gentleman?” “No, may it please your honour,” said Bacon. “Very well,” said Berkeley, “then I’ll take your parole.” This was discreet in the governor, since the election had gone so heavily against him. Bacon was released and went to lodge in the house of Richard Lawrence.

“Thoughtful” Mr. Lawrence.

This “thoughtful” gentleman, the Oxford scholar, “for wit, learning, and sobriety equalled by few,” is said to have “kept an ordinary,” while his house was one of the best in Jamestown. It should be remembered that the permanent residents in the town numbered less than a hundred,[44] while the sessions of the assembly brought a great influx of temporary sojourners, so that any or every house would be made to serve as a tavern. Some years before, Mr. Lawrence had been “partially treated at law, for a considerable estate on behalf of a corrupt favourite” of Sir William Berkeley; a fact well certified by the testimony of the governor’s friend, Colonel Lee. For this reason Lawrence bore the governor a grudge and spoke of him as a treacherous old villain. It was believed by some people that in the conduct of the rebellion Lawrence was the Mephistopheles and Bacon simply the Faust whom he prompted.

Bacon’s submission.

There seems to have been an understanding that, if Bacon were to acknowledge his offence in marching without a commission, he should be received back to his seat in the council, and the governor would give him a commission to go and finish the Indian war. The old Nathaniel Bacon, of King’s Creek, being “a very rich politic man and childless,” and intending to leave his estates to young Nathaniel, succeeded in persuading him, “not without much pains,” to accept the compromise. The old gentleman wrote out a formal recantation, which his young kinsman consented to read in public, and a scene was made of it. The State House was a two-story building in which the burgesses had lately begun sitting apart on the second floor, while the governor and council (in point of dignity the “upper house”) held their session on the first floor. On the 5th of June, 1676, the burgesses were summoned to attend in the council chamber while Berkeley opened parliament. In his opening speech the governor referred to the Indian troubles, and expressed himself with strong emphasis on the slaying of the five envoys: “If they had killed my grandfather and grandmother, my father and mother and all my friends, yet if they had come to treat of peace they ought to have gone in peace!”[45] Then, changing the subject, the governor announced: “If there be joy in the presence of the angels over one sinner that repenteth, there is joy now, for we have a penitent sinner come before us. Call Mr. Bacon.” The young man knelt at the bar of the assembly and read aloud the prepared paper in which he confessed that he had acted illegally, and offered sureties for future good behaviour. Then said the governor impressively, and thrice repeating the words, “God forgive you! I forgive you.” “And all that were with him,” interposed a member of the council. “Yea,” continued Berkeley, “and all those that were with you.” The sheriff at once released Bacon’s followers, and he took his old seat in the council, while the burgesses filed off upstairs. Our informant, the member for Stafford, tells us that while he was on his way up to the burgesses that afternoon, and through the open door of the council chamber descried “Mr. Bacon on his quondam seat,” it seemed “a marvellous indulgence” to one who had so lately been proscribed as a rebel.

Governor vs. Burgesses.

Reform of abuses.

The governor’s chief dread was the free discussion of affairs in general by a hostile assembly. Now that the Indian imbroglio had brought these new burgesses together, he wanted them to confine their talk to Indian affairs and then go home, but this was not their way of thinking. They aimed, though feebly, at greater independence than heretofore, and the governor’s intent was to frustrate this aim. It was moved by one of his partisans in the House of Burgesses “to entreat the governor would please to assign two of his council to sit with and assist us in our debates, as had been usual.” At this the friends of Bacon scowled, and the member for Stafford ventured to suggest that such aid might not be necessary, whereat there was an uproar. The Berkeleyans urged that “it had been customary and ought not to be omitted,” but a shrewd old assemblyman named Presley replied, “’Tis true it has been customary, but if we have any bad customs amongst us, we are come here to mend ’em.”[46] This happy retort was greeted with laughter, but the Cavalier feeling of loyalty to the king’s representative was still strong, and Berkeley’s friends had their way, apparently in a tumultuous fashion. As the member for Stafford says, the affair “was huddled off without coming to a vote,” so that the burgesses must “submit to be overawed and have every carped at expression carried straight to the governor.” Nevertheless, they went sturdily on to their work of reform, and the acts which they passed most clearly reveal the nature of the evils from which the people had been suffering. They restored universal suffrage; they enacted that vestrymen should be elected by popular vote, and limited their term of office to three years; they reduced the sheriff’s term to a single year; they declared that no person should hold at one and the same time any two of the offices of sheriff, surveyor, escheator, and clerk of court; and they imposed penalties upon the delay of public business and the taking of excessive fees. Councillors with their families, and the families of clergymen, had been exempted from taxation; this odious privilege was now abolished. Sundry trade monopolies were overthrown; two magistrates, Edward Hill and John Stith, were disfranchised for alleged misconduct; and provision was made for a general inspection of public expenses and the proper auditing of accounts.[47]

An Indian “princess.”

The Indian troubles were not neglected. Arrangements were made for raising and maintaining an army of 1,000 men, and the aid of friendly Indians was solicited. There was a picturesque scene when the “Queen of Pamunkey” was brought before the House of Burgesses. That interesting squaw sachem appears to have been a descendant of the fierce Opekankano. Her tribe was the same that John Smith had visited on the winter day when he held his pistol to the old warrior’s head, with the terse mandate, “Corn or your life!” That remnant of the Powhatan confederacy was still flourishing in Bacon’s time, and indeed it has survived to the present day, a mongrel compound of Indian and negro, on two small reservations in King William County.[48] The “Queen of Pamunkey” in Bacon’s time commanded about 150 warriors, and what the assembly wanted was to secure their aid in suppressing the hostile Indians. The dusky princess “entered the chamber with a comportment graceful to admiration, bringing on her right hand an Englishman interpreter, and on the left her son, a stripling twenty years of age, she having round her head a plat of black and white wampum peag three inches broad in imitation of a crown, and was clothed in a mantle of dressed deerskins with the hair outwards and the edge cut round six inches deep, which made strings resembling twisted fringe from the shoulders to the feet; thus with grave courtlike gestures and a majestic air in her face she walked up our long room to the lower end of the table, where after a few entreaties she sat down; the interpreter and her son standing by her on either side as they had walked up. Our chairman asked her what men she would lend us for guides in the wilderness and to assist us against our enemy Indians. She spake to the interpreter to inform her what the chairman said (though we believed she understood him). He told us she bid him ask [her] son to whom the English tongue was familiar (and who was reputed the son of an English colonel), yet neither would he speak to or seem to understand the chairman, but, the interpreter told us, he referred all to his mother, who being again urged, she, after a little musing, with an earnest passionate countenance as if tears were ready to gush out, and a fervent sort of expression, made a harangue about a quarter of an hour, often interlacing (with a high shrill voice and vehement passion) these words, Totapotamoy chepiack! i. e. Totapotamoy dead! Colonel Hill, being next me, shook his head. I asked him what was the matter. He told me all she said was too true, to our shame, and that his father was general in that battle where divers years before[49] Totapotamoy her husband had led a hundred of his Indians in help to the English against our former enemy Indians, and was there slain with most of his men; for which no compensation at all had been to that day rendered to her, wherewith she now upbraided us.”

The chairman’s rudeness.

The candid member for Stafford calls the chairman of the committee morose and rude for not so much as “advancing one cold word towards assuaging the anger and grief” of the squaw sachem. Having once obtained a favour and so ill requited it, the white men in an emergency were now suppliants for further good offices of the same sort. But disregarding all this, the chairman imperiously demanded to be informed how many Indians she would now contribute. A look of angry disdain passed over the cinnamon face; she turned her head away and “sat mute till that same question being pressed a third time, she, not returning her face to the board, answered with a low slighting voice in our own language, Six! but, being further importuned, she, sitting a little while sullen, without uttering a word between, said, Twelve! ... and so rose up and walked gravely away, as not pleased with her treatment.”

Bacon’s flight.

His return.

Small wisdom was shown in this mean and discourteous treatment of a useful ally, but men’s thoughts were at once abruptly turned from such matters. “One morning early a bruit ran about the town, Bacon is fled! Bacon is fled!” and for the moment Indian alliances and legislative reforms were alike forgotten. Mr. Lawrence’s house was searched at daybreak, but his lodger had gone. Not only had the governor withheld the expected commission, but the air was heavy with suspicion of treachery. The elder Bacon, of King’s Creek, who was fond of “this uneasy cousin” without approving his conduct, secretly informed him that his life was in danger at Jamestown. So the young man slipped away to his estate at Curl’s, and within a few days marched back upon Jamestown at the head of 600 men. Berkeley’s utmost efforts could scarcely muster 100 men, of whom we are told that not half could be relied on. Early in the warm June afternoon Bacon halted his troops upon the green before the State House, and walked up toward the building with a little guard of fusileers. The upper windows were filled with peering burgesses, and crowds of expectant people stood about the green. Out from the door came the old white-haired governor, trembling with fury, and plucking open the rich lace upon his bosom, shouted to Bacon, “Here I am! Shoot me! ’Fore God, a fair mark, a fair mark—shoot!” Bacon answered mildly, “No, may it please your honour, we have not come to hurt a hair of your head or of any man’s. We are come for a commission to save our lives from the Indians, which you have so often promised, and now we will have it before we go.”

The governor intimidated, June, 1676.

But we are told that after the old man had gone in to talk with his council, Bacon fell into a rage and swore that he would kill them all if the commission were not granted. The fusileers presented their pieces at the windows and yelled, “We will have it! we will have it!” till shortly one of the burgesses shook “a pacifick handkercher” and called down, “you shall have it.” All was soon quiet again. The assembly drew up a memorial to the king, setting forth the grievances of the colony and Bacon’s valuable services; and it made out a commission for him as general of an army to be sent against the Indians. Next day the governor was browbeaten into signing both these papers; but the same ship that carried the memorial to Charles II. carried also a private letter wherein Berkeley told his own story in his own way. The assembly was then dissolved.

Bacon crushes the Susquehannocks.

Berkeley flies to Accomac, and proclaims Bacon a rebel.

Bacon’s march to Middle Plantation.

Bacon was a commander who could move swiftly and strike hard. Within four weeks the remnant of the Susquehannocks had been pretty nearly wiped out of existence, when he heard that the governor had proclaimed him and his followers rebels. It was like a cry of despair from the old man, who felt his power and dignity gone while this young Cromwell rode over him rough-shod. He tried to raise the people in Gloucester, reputed the most loyal of the counties, but his efforts were vain. Ominous groans and calls of “a Bacon! a Bacon!” greeted him, until in anticipation of still worse difficulties he fled across Chesapeake Bay to the Accomac peninsula, launching the proclamation behind him like a Parthian arrow. This was on July 29, and Richard Lawrence carried the news up-stream to Bacon, who was probably somewhere about the North Anna River. The young leader was stung by what he felt to be cruel injustice. “It vexed him to the heart for to think that while he was hunting Indian wolves, tigers, and foxes, which daily destroyed our harmless sheep and lambs, that he and those with him should be pursued with a full cry, as a more savage or a no less ravenous beast.” He quickly marched back at the head of his troops to Middle Plantation, half way between Jamestown and York River, the site where Williamsburg was afterward built. What had best be done was matter of discussion between Bacon and his friends, and the affair began to assume a more questionable and dangerous aspect than before. The Scotch adviser, William Drummond, was a gentleman who did not believe in half measures. When some friend warned him of the danger of rebellion he was heard to reply, “I am in over shoes; I will be over boots!” His wife was equally bold. It was suggested one day that King Charles might by and by have something to say about these proceedings, whereupon Sarah Drummond picked up a stick and broke it in two, exclaiming, “I care no more for the power of England than for this broken straw!” Bacon was advised by Drummond to have Berkeley deposed and the more placable Sir Henry Chicheley put in his place; and as a precedent he cited the thrusting out of Sir John Harvey, forty-one years before. But Bacon preferred a different course of action. First, he issued a manifesto in rejoinder to Berkeley’s proclamation. A few ringing sentences from it will serve as a sample of his peculiar eloquence.

His manifesto.

“If virtue be a sin, if piety be guilt, all the principles of morality, goodness and justice be perverted, we must confess that those who are now called Rebels may be in danger of those high imputations. Those loud and several bulls would affright innocents, and render the defence of our brethren and the inquiry into our sad and heavy oppressions Treason. But if there be (as sure there is) a just God to appeal to, if religion and justice be a sanctuary here, if to plead the cause of the oppressed, if sincerely to aim at his Majesty’s honour and the public good without any reservation or by-interest, if to stand in the gap after so much blood of our dear brethren bought and sold, if after the loss of a great part of his Majesty’s colony deserted and dispeopled freely with our lives and estates to endeavour to save the remainders, be treason—God Almighty judge and let guilty die. But since we cannot in our hearts find one single spot of rebellion or treason, or that we have in any manner aimed at subverting the settled government or attempting of the person of any either magistrate or private man, notwithstanding the several reproaches and threats of some who for sinister ends were disaffected to us and censured our innocent and honest designs, and since all people in all places where we have yet been can attest our civil, quiet, peaceable behaviour, far different from that of rebellion [rebellious?] and tumultuous persons, let Truth be bold and all the world know the real foundations of pretended guilt. We appeal to the country itself, what and of what nature their oppressions have been, or by what cabal and mystery the designs of many of those whom we call great men have been transacted and carried on. But let us trace these men in authority and favour to whose hands the dispensation of the country’s wealth has been committed.”[50]

His arraignment of Berkeley.

This is the prose of the seventeenth century, which had not learned how to smite the reader’s mind with the short incisive sentences to which we are at the present day accustomed; but there is no mistaking the writer’s passionate earnestness, his straightforward honesty and dauntless courage. As we read, we seem to see the gleam of lightning in those melancholy eyes, and we quite understand how the impetuous youth was a born leader of men. With strong words tumbling from a full heart the manifesto goes on to “trace these men in authority,” these “juggling parasites whose tottering fortunes have been repaired at the public charge.” He points out at some length the character of the public grievances, and appeals to the king with a formal indictment of Sir William Berkeley:—

“For having upon specious pretences of public works raised unjust taxes upon the commonalty for the advancement of private favourites and other sinister ends, but no visible effects in any measure adequate.

“For not having, during the long time of his government, in any measure advanced this hopeful colony either by fortification, towns, or trade.

“For having abused and rendered contemptible the majesty of justice, of advancing to places of judicature scandalous and ignorant favourites.

“For having wronged his Majesty’s prerogative and interest by assuming the monopoly of the beaver trade.

“[For] having in that unjust gain bartered and sold his Majesty’s country and the lives of his loyal subjects to the barbarous heathen.

“For having protected, favoured, and emboldened the Indians against his Majesty’s most loyal subjects, never contriving, requiring or appointing any due or proper means of satisfaction for their many invasions, murders, and robberies committed upon us.”

“Wicked counsellors.”

And so on through several further counts. At the close of the indictment nineteen persons are mentioned by name as the governor’s “wicked and pernicious counsellors, aiders and assisters against the commonalty in these our cruel commotions.” Among these names we read those of Sir Henry Chicheley, Richard Lee, Robert Beverley, Nicholas Spencer, and the son of our old friend William Claiborne, who had once been such a thorn in the side of Maryland. The manifesto ends by demanding that Berkeley and all the persons on this list be promptly arrested and confined at Middle Plantation until further orders. Let no man dare aid or harbour any one of them, under penalty of being declared a traitor and losing his estates.

The oath at Middle Plantation.

Defeat of the Indians.

When he had launched this manifesto Bacon called for a meeting of notables at Middle Plantation, to concert measures for making it effective. There on August 3, accordingly, were assembled “most of the prime gentlemen of those parts,” including four members of the council. The discussion lasted all day, and was kept up by the light of torches until midnight. There were many who were not willing to go all lengths with Bacon. All were willing to subscribe an agreement not to aid Berkeley in molesting Bacon and his men, but all were not prepared to promise military aid to Bacon in resisting Berkeley. Bacon insisted upon this and even more. It was not unlikely that the king, influenced by calumnies and misrepresentations, might send troops to Virginia to suppress the so-called “rebellion.” In that case all must unite in opposing the royal forces until his Majesty should be brought to see these matters in their true light. Many demurred at this. It was equivalent to armed rebellion. They would sign the first part of the agreement, but not this. Bacon replied that the governor had already proclaimed them rebels, and would hang them for signing any part of the agreement; one might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, and as for himself he was not going to be satisfied with half support. They must choose between Berkeley and himself. It is said that they might have argued all that summer night but for a sudden Indian scare which emphasized the need for prompt action. Then the hesitating gentlemen came forward and signed the entire paper, while the whole company, and no one more emphatically than Bacon himself, asseverated that these proceedings in no way impaired their allegiance. In other words, they were ready if need be to make war on the king for his own good. It was “We, the inhabitants of Virginia,” that drew up this remarkable agreement, which Charles II. was presently to read. Writs were then made out in the king’s name for a new election of burgesses and signed by the four councilmen. Then Bacon crossed the James River and defeated the Appomattox Indians near the spot where Petersburg now stands. After this he moved about the country, capturing and dispersing the barbarians, until early in September it might be said that every homestead in the colony was safe.

Startling conversation between Bacon and Goode.

In the proceedings which attended the taking of the oath at Middle Plantation it may be plainly seen that Bacon was in danger of alienating his followers by pursuing too radical a policy. This is strikingly confirmed by a document which has only lately attracted attention, a letter from John Goode to Sir William Berkeley, dated January 30, 1677. This John Goode was a veteran frontiersman of sixty years, a man of importance in the colony. He seems to have been a faithful adherent of Bacon from his first march against the Indians in May until the beginning of September, when there occurred the conversation which, after all was over, he reported to the governor as follows. The affair is so important and so little known that I quote the dialogue entire, with the original spelling and punctuation:[51]—

Hon’d Sr.—In obedient submission to your honours command directed to me by Capt. Wm. Bird[52] I have written the full substance of a discourse Nath: Bacon, deceased, propos’d to me on or about the 2d day of September last, both in order and words as followeth:—

Bacon.—There is a report Sir Wm. Berkeley hath sent to the king for 2,000 Red Coates, and I doe believe it may be true, tell me your opinion, may not 500 Virginians beat them, wee having the same advantages against them the Indians have against us.

Goode.—I rather conceive 500 Red Coats may either Subject or ruine Virginia.

B.—You talk strangely, are not wee acquainted with the Country, can lay Ambussadoes, and take Trees and putt them by, the use of their discipline, and are doubtlesse as good or better shott than they.

G.—But they can accomplish what I have sayd without hazard or coming into such disadvantages, by taking Opportunities of landing where there shall bee noe opposition, firing out [our?] houses and Fences, destroying our Stocks and preventing all Trade and supplyes to the Country.

B.—There may bee such prevention that they shall not bee able to make any great Progresse in Mischeifes, and the Country or Clime not agreeing with their Constitutions, great mortality will happen amongst them, in their Seasoning which will weare and weary them out.

G.—You see Sir that in a manner all the principall Men in the Countrey dislike your manner of proceedings, they, you may bee sure will joine with the Red Coates.

B.—But there shall none of them bee [permitted?].

G.—Sir, you speake as though you design’d a totall defection from Majestie, and our native Country.

B.—Why (smiling) have not many Princes lost their Dominions soe.

G.—They have been such people as have been able to subsist without their Prince. The poverty of Virginia is such, that the Major part of the Inhabitants can scarce supply their wants from hand to mouth, and many there are besides can hardly shift, without Supply one yeare, and you may bee sure that this people which soe fondly follow you, when they come to feele the miserable wants of food and rayment, will bee in greater heate to leave you, then [than] they were to come after you, besides here are many people in Virginia that receive considerable benefitts, comforts, and advantages by Parents, Friends and Correspondents in England, and many which expect patrimonyes and Inheritances which they will by no meanes decline.

B.—For supply I know nothing: the Country will be able to provide it selfe withall, in a little time, save Amunition and Iron, and I believe the King of France or States of Holland would either of them entertaine a Trade with us.

G.—Sir, our King is a great Prince, and his Amity is infinitely more valuable to them, then [than] any advantage they can reape by Virginia, they will not therefore provoke his displeasure by supporting his Rebells here; besides I conceive that your followers do not think themselves ingaged against the King’s Authority, but against the Indians.

B.—But I think otherwise, and am confident of it, that it is the mind of this country, and of Mary Land, and Carolina also, to cast off their Governor and the Governors of Carolina have taken no notice of the People, nor the People of them, a long time;[53] and the people are resolv’d to own their Governour further; And if wee cannot prevaile by Armes to make our Conditions for Peace, or obtaine the Priviledge to elect our own Governour, we may retire to Roanoke.

And here hee fell into a discourse of seating a Plantation in a great Island in the River, as a fitt place to retire to for Refuge.

G.—Sir, the prosecuting what you have discoursed will unavoidably produce utter ruine and destruction to the people and Countrey, & I dread the thoughts of putting my hand to the promoting a designe of such miserable consequence, therefore hope you will not expect from me.

B.—I am glad I know your mind, but this proceeds from meer Cowardlynesse.

G.—And I desire you should know my mind, for I desire to harbour noe such thoughts, which I should fear to impart to any man.

B.—Then what should a Gentleman engaged as I am, doe, you doe as good as tell me, I must fly or hang for it.

G.—I conceive a seasonable Submission to the Authority you have your Commission from, acknowledging such Errors and Excesse, as are yett past, there may bee hope of remission.

I perceived his cogitations were much on this discourse, hee nominated, Carolina, for the watch word.

Three days after I asked his leave to goe home, hee sullenly Answered, you may goe, and since that time, I thank God, I never saw or heard from him.

Bacon’s perilous situation.

This interesting dialogue reveals the nature of the situation into which Bacon had drifted. As the days went by, he could hardly fail to see that the king was more likely to take Berkeley’s view of the case than his. According to that view the deliverer of Virginia from the Indians was a proscribed rebel who must “fly or hang for it.” There was little hope for Bacon in “seasonable submission.” He would, therefore, consider it safer and better for Virginia to hold out until the king could be induced to take Bacon’s view of the case; or failing this, it might still be possible to wear out the king’s troops and achieve independence for Virginia, with the aid of the discontented people in the neighbouring colonies. These were the speculations of a man whom circumstances were making desperate, and the effect which they wrought upon John Goode was likely to be repeated with many who had hitherto loyally followed his fortunes.

Berkeley takes the offensive.

Thus far Bacon’s fighting had been against Indians. His quarrel with the governor had been confined to fulminations. Now the two men were to come into armed collision and give Virginia a brief taste of civil war. Bacon sent Giles Bland, “a gentleman of an active and stirring disposition,” with four armed vessels, to arrest Berkeley in Accomac, but Colonel Philip Ludwell, aided by treachery, succeeded in capturing Bland with his flotilla. Bland was put in irons, and one ship’s captain was hanged for an example. Meanwhile Berkeley was enlisting troops by promising as rewards the estates of all the gentlemen who had taken the oath at Middle Plantation. He also sought to win over the indentured servants of gentlemen fighting under Bacon by promising to give them the estates of their masters. Many longshoremen also were enrolled. Having in these ways scraped together about 1,000 men, the governor sailed up the river to Jamestown and took possession of the place, from which Lawrence and Drummond fled in the nick of time.

The white aprons.

When this news reached Bacon it found him at West Point, with the work of subduing the red men practically finished. Not four months had yet elapsed since the first attack on his plantation. It was clearly no ordinary young man that had done that summer’s arduous work. Now he advanced upon Jamestown, and made his headquarters in his adversary’s comfortable mansion at Green Spring. Sir William had thrown an earthwork across the neck of the promontory, and Bacon began building a parallel. It is said that he compelled a number of ladies in white aprons—wives of leading Berkeleyans—to stand upon the works, and sent a message to the governor not to fire upon these guardian angels. “The poor gentlewomen were mightily astonished,” says the chronicle, “and neither were their bands void of amazement at this subtle invention.”[54] The incident is an ugly spot in that brief career. One would gladly disbelieve the story, but our contemporary authority for it seems unimpeachable, and is friendly withal to Bacon.

Bacon’s speech.

The speech made by the young commander to his men at Green Spring before the final assault is a good specimen of his eloquence: “Gentlemen and Fellow Soldiers, how I am transported with gladness to find you thus unanimous, bold and daring, brave and gallant. You have the victory before the fight, the conquest before the battle.... Your hardiness will invite all the country along as we march to come in and second you.... The ignoring of their actions cannot but so much reflect upon their spirit, as they will have no courage left to fight you. I know you have the prayers and well wishes of all the people in Virginia, while the others are loaded with their curses. Come on, my hearts of gold; he that dies in the field lies in the bed of honour!”[55]

Burning of Jamestown.

Sufferers at Bacon’s hands.

The governor’s motley force was indeed no match for these determined men. In the desultory fighting that ensued about Jamestown he was badly defeated and at last fled again to Accomac. Jamestown remained at Bacon’s mercy, and he burned it to the ground, that it might no longer “harbour the rogues.” We are told that Lawrence and Drummond took the lead in this work by applying the torch to their own houses with their own hands. At Green Spring an “oath of fidelity” was drawn up, which was taken voluntarily by many people and forced upon others. Bacon seems now to have shown more severity than formerly in sending men to prison and seizing their property. One deserter he shot, but from bloodthirstiness he was notably free. Among the gentlemen who suffered most at his hands were Richard Lee and Sir Henry Chichely, who were kept several weeks in prison, Philip and Thomas Ludwell, Nicholas Spencer and Daniel Parke, Robert Beverley and Philip Lightfoot, whose estates were at various times plundered. John Washington and others who were denounced as “delinquents” saw their corn and tobacco, cattle and horses, impressed and carried away. Colonel Augustine Warner, another great-grandfather of George Washington, “was plundered as much as any, and yet speaks little of his losses, though they were very great.”[56] Among the sufferers appears “the good Queen of Pamunkey,” who was “driven, out into the wild woods and there almost famished, plundered of all she had, her people taken prisoners and sold; the queen was also robbed of her rich watchcoat for which she had great value, and offered to redeem at any rate.” The next paragraph in the commissioners’ report is delightful: “We could not but present her case to his Majesty, who, though he may not at present so well or readily provide remedies or rewards for the other worthy sufferers, yet since a present of small price may highly oblige and gratify this poor Indian Queen, we humbly supplicate his Majesty to bestow it on her.”

Bacon and his cousin.

One of the accusations against Bacon was that to him a good Indian meant a dead Indian, so that he did not take the trouble to discriminate between friends and foes. But what shall we say when we find him plundering his own kinsman, the affectionate cousin whose timely warning had once perhaps saved his life? The commissioners report the losses of Nathaniel Bacon the elder, at the hands of his “unnatural kinsman,” as at least £1,000 sterling. The old gentleman was “said to have been a person soe desirous and Industrious to divert the evil consequences of his Rebell kinsman’s proceedings, that at the beginning hee freely proposed and promised to invest him in a considerable part of his Estate in present, and to leave him the Remainder in Reversion after his and his wife’s death, offering him other advantages upon condicion hee would lay downe his Armes, and become a good subject to his Majestie, that that colony might not be disturbed or destroyed, nor his owne ffamily stained with soe foule a Blott.”

Death of Bacon, Oct. 1, 1676.

At the burning of Jamestown the end of Bacon and of his rebellion was not far off. “This Prosperous Rebell, concluding now the day his owne, marcheth with his army into Gloster County, intending to visit all the northern part of Virginia ... and to settle affairs after his own measures.... But before he could arrive to the Perfection of his designes (w^ch none but the eye of omniscience could Penetrate) Providence did that which noe other hand durst (or at least did) doe and cut him off.” Malarious Jamestown wreaked its own vengeance upon its destroyer. When Bacon marched away from it he was already ill with fever, and on the first day of October, at the house of a friend in Gloucester, he “surrendered up that fort he was no longer able to keep, into the hands of the grim and all-conquering Captain, Death.” Accusations of poison were raised, but it is not likely that any other poison was concerned than impure water and marsh gases. The funeral was conducted with extraordinary secrecy. If a sudden turn of fortune should put Berkeley in possession of the body, he would surely hang it on a gibbet; so thoughtful Mr. Lawrence took measures to prevent any such indignity. One chronicler darkly hints that Bacon’s remains were buried in some very secret place in the woods, but another mentions stones laid in the coffin, which suggests that it was sunk beneath the waves of York River, as Soto was buried in the Mississippi and mighty Alaric in the Busento.

Collapse of the Rebellion.

Arrival of royal commissioners, January, 1677.

Outrageous conduct of Berkeley.

A strange meteoric career was that of young Bacon, begun and ended as it was in the space of about twenty weeks. On the news of his death the rebellion collapsed with surprising suddenness. His followers soon began giving in their submissions to the governor; the few that held out were dispersed or captured. Although it was not until January that the work of suppression was regarded as complete, yet that work consisted chiefly in catching fugitives. In January an English fleet arrived, with a regiment of troops, and a commission for investigating the affairs of Virginia. The commissioners were Sir John Berry, Sir Herbert Jeffries, and Colonel Francis Morison, three worthy and fair-minded gentlemen. They found nothing left for soldiers to do. They had authority for trying rebels, but in that business Berkeley had been beforehand. Soon after Bacon’s death one of his best officers, Colonel Thomas Hansford, was captured by Robert Beverley, and carried over to Accomac. He asked no favour save that he might be “shot like a soldier and not hanged like a dog,” but this was not granted. Hansford has been called “the first native martyr to American liberty.”[57] Soon afterward two captains were hanged, and the affair of Major Edward Cheesman seems to have occurred while Berkeley was still at Accomac. It is the foulest incident recorded in Berkeley’s career. When Cheesman was brought before him, the governor fiercely demanded, “Why did you engage in Bacon’s designs?” Before the prisoner could answer, his young wife stepped forward and said, “It was my provocations that made my husband join the cause; but for me he had never done what he has done.” Then falling on her knees before the governor, she implored him that she might be hanged as the guilty one instead of her husband.[58] The old wretch’s answer was an insult so atrocious that the royalist chronicler can hardly abide it. “His Honour” must have been beside himself with anger and could not have meant what he said; for no woman could have “so small an affection for her husband as to dishonour him by her dishonesty, and yet retain such a degree of love, that rather than he should be hanged she will be content to submit her own life to the sentence.” Perhaps the governor’s thirst for vengeance was satisfied by his ruffian speech, for Major Cheesman was not put to death, but remanded to jail, where he died of illness.

Execution of Drummond.

After Berkeley had occupied the York peninsula little work remained for him but that of the hangman. Not all the leaders were easy to find. Richard Lawrence, thoughtful as always, escaped from the scene. “The last account of him,” says T. M., “was from an uppermost plantation, whence he and four other desperadoes, with horses, pistols, etc., marched away in a snow ankle-deep.” Here the scholarly rebel vanishes from our sight, and whether he perished in the wilderness or made his way to some safer country, we do not know. On a cold day in January his friend Drummond, hiding in White Oak Swamp was found and taken to the governor. “Aha!” cried the old man, with a low bow, “you are very welcome. I would rather see you just now than any other man in Virginia. Mr. Drummond, you shall be hanged in half an hour!” “What your honour pleases,” said the undaunted Scotchman. He was strung up that afternoon, but not until his wife’s ring had been pulled from his finger, for rapacity vied with ferocity in the governor’s breast. Before the end of January some twenty more had been hanged. An election was then going on, and the newly-elected assembly called upon Berkeley to desist from this carnival of blood. “If we had let him alone,” said Presley, the venerable member for Northampton, to T. M., the member for Stafford, “he would have hanged half the country!”

Death of Berkeley.

The governor’s rage had carried him too far. His conduct did not meet with the approval of the commissioners, whose report on the disturbances is written in a fair and impartial spirit. He treated the commissioners with crazy rudeness. It is said that when they had called on him at Green Spring and were about to return to their boat on the river, he offered them his state-coach with the hangman for driver! whereupon they preferred to walk to the landing-place. Fresh seeds of contention were sown, to bear fruit in the future. The complaints of Drummond’s widow and others found their way to the throne. “As I live,” quoth the king, “the old fool has put to death more people in that naked country than I did here for the murder of my father.” In the spring the royal order for Berkeley’s removal arrived, and on April 27 he sailed for England, apparently expecting to return, for he left his wife at Green Spring. Sir Herbert Jeffries, one of the commissioners, succeeded him with a special commission as lieutenant governor. Berkeley’s departure was joyfully celebrated with bonfires and salutes of cannon. He cherished hopes of justifying himself in a personal interview with the king, but the interview was delayed until, about the middle of July, the old man fell sick and died. It was believed that his death was caused by vexation and chagrin. A few weeks afterward the other two commissioners, Sir John Berry and Colonel Morison, returned to England; and we are told that one day the late governor’s brother, Lord Berkeley, meeting Sir John Berry in the council chamber, told him “with an angry voice and a Berkeleyan look,” that he and Morison had murdered his brother.[59] In October a royal order for the relief of Sarah Drummond declared that her husband “had been sentenced and put to death contrary to the laws of the kingdom.”

Significance of the rebellion.

Thus ended the first serious and ominous tragedy in the history of the United States, a story preserved for us in many of its details with striking vividness, yet concerning the innermost significance of which we would fain know more than we do. It may fairly be pronounced the most interesting episode in our early history, surpassing in this regard the Leisler affair at New York, which alone can be compared with it for intensity of human interest. As ordinarily told, however, the story of Bacon presents some features that are unintelligible. It is customary to liken the little rebellion of 1676 to the great rebellion of 1776, and we are thus led to contemplate Bacon and Virginia as arrayed against Berkeley and England. In such a view the facts are unduly simplified and strangely distorted. If it were possible thus fully to identify Bacon’s cause with the cause of Virginia, it would become impossible to explain the ease with which his followers were suppressed by Virginians, without any aid from England. But when all the facts are considered, we can see at once that such a result was inevitable.

Careful inspection of the relevant facts will show us that Bacon was contending against four things:—

1. The Indian depredations.

2. The misrule of Sir William Berkeley.

3. The English navigation laws.

4. The tendency toward oligarchical government which had been rapidly growing since the beginning of the great influx of Cavaliers in 1649.

How far Bacon represented public sentiment in Virginia.

Under the first three heads little need be said. The facts have been generally recognized. It was by Bacon’s zeal and success in suppressing the Indian power that he acquired public favour. As for the peculation and extortion practised or permitted by Berkeley, it cannot for a moment be supposed that such men as John Washington, Richard Lee, etc., were inclined to tolerate or connive at it. As for the navigation laws, it was a common remark, after the oath at Middle Plantation, that now Virginians might look forward hopefully to trading with all countries. It is therefore altogether probable that on all these grounds the public sentiment of Virginia was overwhelmingly on the side of Bacon.

The leading families were in general opposed to him.

Under the fourth head some explanation is needed, for historians have generally overlooked or disregarded it. One of the most conspicuous facts in the story of Bacon’s rebellion is the fact that a great majority of the wealthiest and most important men in the colony were opposed to him from first to last. The list of those who were pillaged by his followers is largely a list of the names most honoured in Virginia, the great-grandfathers of the illustrious men who were among the foremost in winning independence for the United States and in building up our federal government. It is also largely a list of the names of Cavaliers who had come from England to Virginia since 1649. The political ideas of these men were surely not democratic. If they were devout disbelievers in popular government, the fact is in nowise to their discredit. Popular government is still on its trial in the world, and the last word on the subject has not yet been said. In our day the men who do the most to throw discredit upon it are often those who prate most loudly in its favour; political blatherskites, like the famous “Colonel Yell of Yellville,” whose accounts were sadly delinquent though his heart beat with fervour for his native land. The Cavaliers who came to Virginia were staunch and honourable men who believed—with John Winthrop and Edmund Burke and Alexander Hamilton—that society is most prosperous when a select portion of the community governs the whole. Such a doctrine seems to me less defensible than the democratic views of Samuel Adams and Thomas Jefferson and Herbert Spencer, but it is still entitled to all the courtesies of debate. Two centuries ago it was of course the prevailing doctrine.

Political changes since 1660; the close vestry.

Restriction of the suffrage.

In the preceding chapter I pointed out that the period of Cavalier immigration, between 1650 and 1670, was characterized by a rapid increase in the dimensions of landed estates and in the employment of servile labour. The same period witnessed a change of an eminently symptomatic kind in local government. In any state the local institutions are the most vitally important part of the whole political structure. Now, as I have already mentioned,[60] the English parish was at an early time reproduced in Virginia, and its authority was exercised by a few chosen men, usually twelve, who constituted a vestry. At first, and until after 1645,[61] the vestrymen were elected by the people of the parish, so that they were analogous to the selectmen of New England. A vestry thus elected is called an open vestry. Now soon after the Long Assembly had begun its sessions in 1661, in the fall tide of royalist reaction, we find on its records a statute which transformed the open vestry into a close vestry. In March, 1662, it was enacted that “in case of the death of any vestryman, or his departure out of the parish, ... the minister and vestry make choice of another to supply his room.”[62] The speedy effect of this was to dispense with the popular election and to convert the vestry into a self-perpetuating close corporation. When we consider the great powers wielded by the vestry, we realize the importance of this step. The vestry made up the parish budget, apportioned the taxes, and elected the churchwardens, who were in many places the tax-collectors. By its “processioning of the bounds of every person’s land,” the vestry exercised control over the record of land-titles. Its supervision of the counting of tobacco was also a function of no mean importance. The vestry also presented the minister for induction. All the local government not in the hands of the vestry was administered by the county court, which consisted of eight justices appointed by the governor. So that when the people lost the power of electing vestrymen they parted with the only share they had in the local government.[63] Nothing was left them except the right to vote for burgesses, and not only was this curtailed in 1670 by a property qualification, but it was of no avail while the Long Assembly lasted, since during those fifteen years there were no elections. That political power should thus rapidly become concentrated in the hands of the leading families was under the circumstances but natural. That the deprivation of suffrage was by many people felt to be a grievance is unquestionable.[64] No testimony can outweigh that of the statute book, and two of the notable acts of Bacon’s assembly in June, 1676, were those which restored universal suffrage and the popular election of vestrymen, and limited the terms of service of vestrymen to three years. The first assembly after the rebellion, which met at Green Spring in February, 1677, with Augustine Warner as speaker, declared all the acts of Bacon’s assembly null and void. Then in the course of that year and the three years following several of those wholesome acts were reënacted, especially those which related to exorbitant fees and the misuse of public money. Great pains were taken to guard against extortion and corruption,[65] but the provisions concerning vestrymen were not reënacted. A law was passed allowing the freeholders and housekeepers in each parish to elect six “sober and discreet” representatives to sit with the vestry and have equal votes with the vestrymen in assessing the parish taxes; in case the parish should neglect to choose such representatives, or in case they should fail to appear at the time appointed, the vestry was to proceed without them.[66] This act seems to have had little effect, and the law of 1662, which created the close vestry, still remained law after more than a century had passed.[67] As for the right to vote for burgesses, the royal instructions received from Charles II. in January, 1677, restricted it to “ffreeholders, as being more agreeable to the custome of England, to which you are as nigh as you conveniently can to conforme yourselves.”[68] According to the same instructions the assembly was to be called together only once in two years, “unlesse some emergent occasion shall make it necessary;” and it was to sit “ffourteene days ... and noe longer, unlesse you find goode cause to continue it beyond that tyme;” qualifications which could easily be made to defeat the restriction.

How the aristocrats regarded Bacon’s followers.

The legislation of Bacon’s assembly concerning the suffrage and the vestries proves that the people whom he represented were not in sympathy with the political and social changes which had been growing up since the middle of the century. These enactments were a protest against the increasing tendency toward a more aristocratic type of society. It was, therefore, natural that a large majority of the aristocrats should have been opposed to Bacon. Doubtless they sympathized with his protests against legislative oppression and official corruption, but they did not approve of his levelling schemes. Their language concerning Bacon’s followers shows how they felt about them and toward them. William Sherwood calls them “y^e scum of the Country.”[69] According to Philip Ludwell, deputy secretary and member of the council, Bacon “gathers about him a Rabble of the basest sort of People, whose Condicion was such, as by a chaunge could not admitt of worse, w^th these he begins to stand at Defyance ag’t the Governm’t.”[70] Again, “Mr. Bacon had Gotten at severall places about 500 men, whose fortune and Inclinations being equally desperate, were ffit for y^e purpose there being not 20 in y^e whole Route, but what were Idle & will not worke, or such whose Debaucherie or Ill Husbandry has brought in Debt beyond hopes or thought of payment these are the men that are sett up ffor the Good of ye Countrey; who for ye ease of the poore will have noe taxes paied, though for ye most p^t of them, they pay none themselves, would have all magistracie & Governm’nt taken away & sett up one themselves, & to make their Good Intentions more manifest stick not to talk openly of shareing mens Estates among themselves,[71] with these (being Drawne together) Mr. Bacon marches speedly toward the towne, etc.”[72] Governor Berkeley’s testimony should not be omitted; he wrote to the king in June, “I have above thirty-five years governed the most flourishing country the sun ever shone over, but am now encompassed with rebellion like waters in every respect like to that of Masaniello except their leader.”[73] In other words, the rebels were a mere rabble, except their leader, who was not a humble fisherman like the Italian, but a gentleman of high birth and breeding. According to the careful and fair-minded commissioners, Bacon “seduced the Vulgar and most ignorant People (two-thirds of each county being of that Sort) Soe that theire whole hearts and hopes were set now upon” him.[74]

The real state of the case.

Allowance for prejudice must of course be made in considering the general statements of hostile witnesses, such as Berkeley and Sherwood and Philip Ludwell. It is quite clear that Bacon’s followers were by no means all of the baser sort. This is distinctly recognized in a letter to the king by Thomas Ludwell and Robert Smith, containing proposals for reducing the rebels. In a certain event, they say, “there will be a speedy separation of the sound parts from the rabble.”[75] Here we have an explicit admission that there was a “sound part.” It will be remembered that Drummond had been a colonial governor, and that his house and Lawrence’s were the best in Jamestown. The officers we have met in the story, Hansford and Bland and Cheesman, were men of good family; and among the foremost men in the colony we are told that Colonel George Mason was inclined to sympathize with the insurgents.[76] In this he was clearly by no means alone. On the whole, however, there can be no doubt that Bacon’s cause was to a considerable extent the cause of the poor against the rich, of the humble folk against the grandees.

Effect of hard times.

Populist aspects of the rebellion.

Its sound aspects.

When we take into account this aspect of the case, which has never received the attention it deserves, the whole story becomes consistent and intelligible. The years preceding the rebellion were such as are commonly called “hard times.” People felt poor and saw fortunes made by corrupt officials; the fault was with the Navigation Act and with the debauched civil service of Charles II. and Berkeley. Besides these troubles, which were common to all, the poorer people felt oppressed by taxation in regard to which they were not consulted and for which they seemed to get no service in return.[77] The distribution of taxation by polls, equal amounts for rich and for poor, was resented as a cruel injustice.[78] The subject of taxation was closely connected with the Indian troubles, for people paid large sums for military defence and nevertheless saw their houses burned and their families massacred. Under these circumstances the sudden appearance of the brave and eloquent Bacon seemed to open the way of salvation. The indomitable queller of Indians could also curb the tyrant. Naturally, along with a more respectable element, the rabble gathered under his standard; it is always the case in revolutions with the men who have little or nothing to lose. It is likewise usual for men with much property at stake to be conservative on such occasions. Philip Ludwell’s statement, that some of the rebels entertained communistic notions, is just what one might have expected. There is always more or less socialist tomfoolery at such times. In some of its aspects there is a resemblance between Bacon’s rebellion and that of Daniel Shays in Massachusetts one hundred and ten years later. But the Massachusetts leader was a weak and silly creature, and his resistance to government had nothing to justify it, though there were palliating circumstances. The course of Bacon, on the other hand, was in the main a justifiable protest against misgovernment, and until after the oath at Middle Plantation a great deal of the sound sentiment in Virginia must have sympathized with him. In the unwillingness of some of the gentlemen present to take the oath, we seem to see the first ebbing of the tide. Evidently there began to be, as Thomas Ludwell had predicted, “a separation of the sound parts from the rabble;” and this appears very distinctly in the defection of Goode about four weeks later.

In the intention of resisting the king’s troops, which thus weakened Bacon’s position, he certainly showed more zeal than judgment. It has the look of the courage that comes from desperation. Had he lived to persist in this course, the policy most likely to strengthen him would have been to make his foremost demand the repeal of the Navigation Act which all Virginians detested and even Berkeley disapproved. But it is not likely that anything could have saved him from defeat and the scaffold. Death seems to have intervened in kindness to him and to Virginia.[79]

In the early history of our country Bacon must ever remain one of the bright and attractive figures. Our heart is always with the man who boldly stands out against corruption and oppression. To many persons the name of rebel seems fraught with blame and reproach; but the career of mankind so abounds in examples of heroic resistance to intolerable wrongs that to any one familiar with history the name of rebel is often a title of honour. Bacon’s brief career was an episode in the perennial fight against taxation without representation, the ancient abuse of living on other men’s labour. We cannot fail to admire his quick incisiveness, his cool head, his determined courage; and the spectacle of this young Cavalier taking the lead, like Tiberius Gracchus, in a movement for justice and liberty will always make a pleasing picture.