beginning, endowed with a courage and love of liberty which foretold
the spirit of Washington's army,--and a religious tolerance which did
not prevent them from listening with sympathy and approval to the
spiritual harangues of Fox, the Quaker, who sojourned among them with
gratifying results. Their prejudice against towns continued, and one
must walk far to visit them, with only marks on the forest trees to
guide. They were inveterately contented, and having emancipated
themselves from the blight of the Model Constitution, rapidly became
prosperous. The only effect of Messrs. Locke and Shaftesbury's scheme
of an aristocratic Utopia was to make the settlers conscious of their
strength and devoted to their freedom. Indeed, the North Carolinians
were in great part men who had not only fled from the oppressions of
England, but had found even the mild restraints of the other colonies
irksome.
The fate of the Model in South Carolina was similar, though the
preliminary experiences were different. When Joseph West, agent for the
proprietors, and William Sayle, experienced in colonizing, took three
shiploads of emigrants to the junction of the Ashley and Cooper rivers,
about twenty miles south of latitude 33°, they had a copy of the Model
with them. But the first thing they did after getting ashore was to
vote that its provisions were impracticable, and to revise it to such a
degree that, when it was sent over to England for approval, its authors
did not recognize their work, and disowned it. But the settlers
constituted their assembly on the general lines which might now be
called American, and put up their huts, in 1672, on the ground where
now stands Charleston. The climate was too hot for white labor, and the
timely arrival of negro slaves was welcome; in a few years they doubled
the number of the whites. The staple crops of the southern plantations
needed much more work than those of New England and the north, and
this, as well as the preference of the negroes themselves for the
warmer climates, determined the distribution of black slavery on the
Atlantic coast.
Dutch settlers presently joined the English; a Scotch-Irish colony at
Port Royal was set upon by the Spaniards, who, in accordance with the
characteristic Spanish policy, massacred the inhabitants and burned the
houses. But later the revocation by Louis XIV. of the amnesty to
Huguenots caused the latter to fly their country and disperse
themselves over Europe and America; no higher or finer class of men and
women ever joined the ranks of exile, and they were everywhere
welcomed. Colonies of them settled all along the Atlantic seaboard; and
around Charleston many from Languedoc found a congenial home, and
became a valuable and distinguished part of the population. America
could not have been complete without the leaven of the heroic French
Protestants.
Meanwhile the proprietors were gradually submitting, with no good
grace, however, to the inevitable. Their Model remained a
model--something never to be put to practical use. On paper was it
born, and on paper should it remain forever. The proprietors were
kings, by grace of Charles II., but they had neither army nor navy, and
their subjects declined to be serfs. They declined into the status of
land speculators; the governors whom they sent out did nothing but fill
their pockets and let the people have the rest. At last, it was enough
for the proprietors to suggest anything for the people to negative it,
whether it were good or bad. They not only avowed their natural right
to do as they pleased, but deemed it due to their self-respect not to
do what was pleasing to their tinsel sovereigns in London. And finally,
when Colleton, one of the sovereigns in question, tried to declare
martial law in the colony, on the plea of danger from Indians or
Spanish, the indomitable freemen treated him as their brethren at
Albemarle had treated Sothel. The next year saw William and Mary on the
English throne; Shaftesbury had died seven years before; and the Great
Model subsided without a bubble into the vacuum of historical
absurdities.
We left Virginia awaiting the return of the envoys who had gone to ask
Charles for justice and protection against the tyranny of Berkeley.
Charles, as we know, first promised the reforms, and then broke his
promise, as all Stuarts must. But before the envoys could return with
their heavy news, there had been stirring things done and suffered in
Virginia.
The character of Berkeley is as detestable as any known in the annals
of the American colonies. Many of his acts, and all the closing scenes
of his career, seem hardly compatible with moral sanity; in our day,
when science is so prone to find the explanation of crime in insanity,
he would undoubtedly have been adjudged to the nearest asylum. In his
early years, he had been stupid and illiberal, but nothing worse; in
his old age, he seemed to seek out opportunities of wickedness and
outrage, and at last he gave way to transports which could only be
likened to those of a fiend from the Pit, permitted for a season to
afflict the earth. He was as base as he was wicked; a thief, and
perjured, as well as an insatiable murderer. The only trait that seems
to ally him with manhood is itself animal and repulsive. He had wholly
abandoned any pretense of self-control; and in some of the outbursts of
his frenzy he seems to have become insensible even to the suggestions
of physical fear. But this can hardly be accorded the name of courage;
rather is it to be attributed to the suffusion of blood to the brain
which drives the Malay to run amuck.
Virginia had been nurtured in liberty, and was ill prepared for
despotism. On the contrary, she was almost ready to doubt the wisdom or
convenience of any government whatever, except such as was
spontaneously furnished by the generous and magnanimous instincts of
her people. There were no towns, and none of the vice and selfishness
which crowded populations engender. Roads, bridges, public works of any
sort were unknown; the population seldom met except at races or to
witness court proceedings. The great planters lived in comparative
comfort, but they were as much in love with freedom as were the common
people. This state of things was the outcome of the growth of fifty
years; and most of the eight thousand inhabitants of the colony were
born on the soil, and loved it as the only home they knew.
The chief injury they had suffered was from the depredations of the
Indians, who, on their side, could plead that they had received less
than justice at the colonists' hands. Border raids and killings became
more and more frequent and alarming; the savages had learned the use of
muskets, and were good marksmen. They built a fort on the Maryland
border, and for a time resisted siege operations; and when at length
some of the chiefs came out to parley, they were seized and shot. The
rest of the Indian garrison escaped by night, and slaughtered
promiscuously all whom they could surprise along the countryside. A
force was raised to check them, and avenge the murders; but before it
could come in contact with them, Berkeley sent out a peremptory summons
that they should return.
What was the explanation of this extraordinary step? Simply that the
Governor had the monopoly of the Indian trade, which was very valuable,
and would not permit the Indians who traded with him to be driven away.
In order to supply his already overloaded pockets with money, he was
willing to see the red men murder with impunity, and with the
brutalities of torture and outrage, the men, women and children of his
own race. But the Indians themselves seem admirable in contrast with
the inhumanity of this gray-haired, wine-bloated, sordid cavalier of
seventy.
The troops on which the safety of the colonists depended reluctantly
retired. Immediately the savages renewed their attacks; three hundred
settlers were killed. Still Berkeley refused to permit anything to be
done; forts might be erected on the borders, but these, besides being
of great expense to the people, were wholly useless for their defense,
inasmuch as the savages could without difficulty slip by them under
cover of the forest. The raids continued, and the plantations were
abandoned, till not one in seven remained. The inhabitants were
terror-stricken; no man's life was safe. At last permission was asked
that the people might raise and equip a force at their own expense, in
the exercise of the universal right of self-protection; but even this
was violently forbidden by the Governor, who threatened punishment on
any who should presume to take arms against them. All traffic with them
had also been interdicted; but it was known that Berkeley himself
continued his trading with those whose hands were red with the blood of
the wives, fathers and children of Virginia.
Finally, in 1676, the report came that an army of Indians were
approaching Jamestown. Unless resistance were at once made, there
seemed nothing to prevent the extinction of the colony. Berkeley,
apparently for no better reason than that he would not recede from a
position once taken, adhered to his order that nothing should be done.
There was at that time in Virginia a young Englishman of about thirty,
named Nathaniel Bacon. He was descended from good ancestors, and had
received a thorough education, including terms in the Inns of Court. He
was intellectual, thoughtful, and self-contained, with a clear mind, a
generous nature, and the power of winning and controlling men. He had
arrived in the colony a little more than a year before, and had been
chosen to the council; he was wealthy and aristocratic, yet a known
friend of the people. Born in 1642, he was familiar with revolutions,
and had formed his own opinions as to the rights of man. He had a
plantation on the site of the present city of Richmond; and during the
late Indian troubles, had lost his overseer. Coming down on his affairs
to Jamestown, he fell into talk with some friends, who suggested
crossing the river to see some of the volunteers who had come together
for defense. These men were in a mood of excited exasperation at the
sinister conduct of the governor, and ready to follow extreme counsels
had they had a leader with the boldness and ability to put himself at
their head.
The tall, slender figure and grave features of Bacon were well-known.
As he advanced toward the troop of stalwart young fellows, who were
sullenly discussing the situation, he was recognized; and something
seems to have suggested to them that he was come with a purpose.
Conclusions are sudden at such times, and impulses contagious as fire.
He was the leader whom they sought. "A Bacon--a Bacon!" shouted some
one; and instantly the cry was taken up. They thronged around him,
welcoming him, cheering him, exclaiming that they would follow him,
that with them at his back he should save the country in spite of the
governor! They were fiery and emotional, after the manner of the sons
of the Old Dominion, and the wrongs of many kinds which had long been
rankling in their hearts now demanded to be requited by some action--no
matter how daring. Virginians never shrank from danger.
Bacon had been wholly unprepared for this outburst; but he had a
strong, calm soul, a ready brain, and the blood of youth. He knew what
the colony had endured, and that it had nothing to hope from the
present government. He had come to America after making the European
tour, intending only a visit; but he had grown attached to Virginia,
and now that chance had put this opportunity to help her, he resolved
to accept it. He would throw in his lot with these spirited and
fearless young patriots--the first men in America who had the right to
call the country their own. Standing before them, with his head bared,
and in a voice that all could hear, he solemnly pledged himself to lead
them against the Indians, and then aid them to recover the liberties
which had been wrested from them. "And do you," he added, "pledge
yourselves to me!" His words were heard with tumultuous enthusiasm, and
a round-robin was signed, binding all to stick to their captain and to
one another. That is a document which history would fain have preserved.
With an army of three hundred Virginians, Bacon set forward against the
Indians. Meanwhile Berkeley, enraged at this slight on his authority,
called some troops together and despatched them to bring back "the
rebels." Thus was seen the singular spectacle of a government force
marching to apprehend men who were risking their lives freely to repel
a danger imminent and common to all.
But Berkeley was going too far. Bacon's act had the sympathy of all
except such as were as corrupt as the governor, and the men of the
lower counties revolted, and demanded that the long scandal of the
continuous assembly should cease forthwith. Berkeley was intimidated;
he had not believed that any spirit was left in the colony; he recalled
his men, and consented to the assembly's dissolution. By the time Bacon
and his three hundred got back from their successful campaign, the
writs for a new election were out; and he was unanimously chosen
burgess from Henrico. The assembly of which he thus became a member was
for the most part in sympathy with him; and though, for the benefit of
the record, censure was passed upon the irregularity of his campaign,
and he was required to apologize for fighting without a commission, yet
he was at the same time caressed and praised on all sides, returned to
the council, and dubbed the darling of Virginia's hopes. The assembly
then proceeded to undo all the evil and clean out all the rottenness
that had disgraced the conduct of their predecessors. Taxes, church
tyranny, restriction of the franchise, illegal assessments, fees, and
liquor-dealing were done away with; two magistrates were proved thieves
and disfranchised, and trade with Indians was for the present stopped.
Bacon received a commission; but Berkeley refused to sign it; and when
Bacon appealed to the country, and returned with five hundred men to
demand his rights, the governor was beside himself with fury.
Private letters and other documents, made public only long after this
date, are the authority for what occurred; but though certain facts are
given, explanations are seldom available. Berkeley appears to have been
holding court when Bacon and his followers appeared; it is said that he
ran out and confronted them, tore his shirt open and declared that
sooner should they shoot him than he would sign the commission of that
rebel; and the next moment, changing his tactics, he offered to settle
the issue between Bacon and himself by a duel. All this does not sound
like the acts of a man in his sober senses. It seems probable either
that the old reprobate was intoxicated, or that his mind was disordered
by passion. Bacon, of course, declined to match his youthful vigor
against his decrepit enemy, as the latter must have known he would: and
told him temperately that the commission he demanded was to enable him
to repel the savages who were murdering their fellow colonists
unchecked. The governor, after some further parley, again altered his
behavior, and now overpowered Bacon with maudlin professions of esteem
for his patriotic energy; signed his commission, and sent dispatches to
England warmly commending him. A formal amnesty, obliterating all past
acts of the popular champion and his supporters which could be
construed as irregular, was drawn up and ratified by the governor; and
the clouds which so long had lowered over Virginia seemed to have been
at last in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. To those whom
coincidences interest it will be significant that this victory for the
people was won on the 4th of July, 1676.
Operations against the Indians were now vigorously resumed; but
Berkeley had not yet completed the catalogue of his iniquities. Bacon's
back was scarcely turned, before he violated the amnesty which he had
just ratified, and tried to rouse public sentiment against the
liberator. In this, however, he signally failed, as also in his attempt
to raise a levy to arrest him; and frightened at the revelation of his
weakness, he fled in a panic to Accomack, a peninsula on the eastern
side of Chesapeake Bay. Word of his proceedings had in the meantime
been conveyed to Bacon by Drummond, former governor of North Carolina,
and Lawrence. "Shall he who commissioned us to protect the country from
the heathen, betray our lives?" said Bacon. "I appeal to the king and
parliament!" He established himself in Williamsburg; at Drummond's
suggestion Berkeley's flight was taken to mean his withdrawal from the
governorship--which, at any rate, had now passed its appointed
limit--and a summons was sent out to the gentlemen of Virginia to meet
for consultation as to the future conduct of the colony. It was at this
juncture that the envoys returned from England, with the dark news that
Charles had refused all relief.
At the conference, after full discussion, it was voted that the colony
take the law into their own hands, and maintain themselves not only
against the Indians and Berkeley, but if need were against England
herself. "I fear England no more than a broken straw," said Sarah
Drummond, snapping a stick in her hands as she spoke: the women of
Virginia were as resolved as the men. Pending these contingencies,
Bacon with his little army again set out in pursuit of the Indians;
hearing which, Berkeley, with a train of mercenaries which he had
contrived to collect, crossed from Accomack and landed at Jamestown,
where he repeated his refrain of "rebels!" He promised freedom to
whatever slaves of the colony would enlist on his side, and fortified
the little town. The crews of some English ships in the harbor assisted
him; and in the sequel these tars were the only ones of his rabble that
stayed by him. The neighborhood was alarmed, fearing any kind of
enormity, and messengers rode through the woods post haste, and swam
the rivers, in the sultry September weather, to find and recall their
defenders, and summon them to resist a worse foe than the red man.
Before they could reach the young leader, the Indians had been routed,
the army disbanded, and Bacon, with a handful of followers, was on his
way to his plantation. They were weary with the fatigues of the
campaign, but on learning that the prime source of the troubles was
intrenched in Jamestown, and that "man, woman and child" were in peril
of slavery, they turned their horses' heads southeastward, and galloped
to the rescue. They gathered recruits on their way--no one could resist
the eloquence of Bacon--and halting at such of the plantations as were
owned by royalist sympathizers, they compelled their wives to mount and
accompany them as hostages. This indicates to what extremes the
violence of Berkeley was expected to go. It was evening when they came
in sight of the enemy. But the moon was already aloft, and as the
western light faded, her mellow radiance flooded the scene, giving it
the semblance of peace. But the impatient Virginians wished to attack
at once; and a lesser man than Bacon might have yielded to their
urging. Knowing, however, that the country was with him, and feeling
that the enemy must sooner or later succumb, he would not win by a
dashing, bloody exploit what time was sure to give him. He ordered an
intrenchment to be dug, and prepared for a siege. But there was no lust
for battle in the disorderly and incoherent force which the frantic
appeals and reckless promises of the governor had assembled; they were
beaten already, and could not be induced to make a sortie. Desertions
began, and all the objurgations, supplications and melodramatic
extravaganzas of Berkeley were impotent to stop them; the more shrilly
he shrieked, the faster did his sorry aggregation melt away. When it
became evident that there would soon be none left save himself and the
sailors, he ceased his blustering, and scuttled off toward Gloucester
and the Rappahannock.
Bacon, Drummond, Lawrence and their men occupied the abandoned town, in
which some of them owned houses, and burned it to the ground. The act
was deliberate; the town records were first removed; and the men who
had most to lose by the conflagration were the first to set the torch.
Jamestown at that time contained hardly twenty buildings all told; but
it was the first settlement of the Dominion, and sentiment would fain
have preserved it. A mossy ruin, draped in vines, is all that remains
of it now. The ascertainable causes of its destruction seem inadequate;
yet the circumstances show that it could not have been done in mere
wantonness. Civilized warfare permits the destruction of the enemy's
property; but the enemy had retreated, and the expectation was that he
would never return. That Bacon had reasons, his previous record
justifies us in believing; but what they were is matter of conjecture.
As it is, the burning of Jamestown is the only passage in his brief and
gallant career which can be construed as a blemish upon it.
Unfortunately, it was, also, all but the final one.
He pursued Berkeley, and the army of the latter, instead of fighting,
marched over to him with a unanimity which left the governor almost
without a companion in his chagrin. The whole of Virginia was now in
Bacon's hand; he had no foes; he was called Deliverer; he had never met
reverse; he was a man of intellect, judgment and honor, and he was in
the prime of his youth; in such a country, beloved, and supported by
such a people, what might he not have hoped to achieve? Men like him
are rare; in a country just emerging into political consciousness, he
was doubly precious. There was no one to take his place; the return of
Berkeley meant all that was imaginable of evil; and yet Bacon was to
die, and Berkeley was to return.
In the trenches before Jamestown, Bacon had contracted the seeds of a
fever which now, in the hour of his triumph, overcame him. After a
short struggle he succumbed; and his men, fearing, apparently, that the
ghoulish revenge of the old governor might subject his remains to
insult, sunk his body in the river; and none know where lie the bones
of the first American patriot who died in arms against oppression. His
worth is proved by the confusion and disorganization which ensued upon
his death. Cheeseman, Hansford, Wilford and Drummond could not make
head against disaster. On the governor's side, Robert Beverly developed
the qualities of a leader, and a series of small engagements left the
patriots at his mercy. Berkeley was re-established in his place; and
then began the season of his revenge.
His victims were the gentlemen of Virginia; the flower of the province.
He had no mercy; his sole thought was to add insult to the bitterness
of death. He would not spare their lives; he would not shoot them; they
must perish on the gallows, not as soldiers, but as rebels. When a
young wife pleaded for her gallant husband, declaring that it was she
who persuaded him to join the patriotic movement, Berkeley denied her
prayer with coarse brutality. When Drummond was brought before him, he
assured him of his pleasure in their meeting: "You shall be hanged in
half an hour." One can see that mean, flushed countenance, ravaged by
time and intemperance, with bloodshot eyes, gloating over the despair
of his foes, and searching for means to torture their minds while
destroying their bodies. Trial by jury was not quick or sure enough for
Berkeley; he condemned them by court-martial and the noose was round
their necks at once. Their families were stripped of their property and
sent adrift to subsist on charity. In his bloodthirstiness, he never
forgot his pecuniary advantage, and his thievish fingers grasped all
the valuables that his murderous instincts brought within his power.
But the spectacle is too revolting for contemplation.