VIRGINIA UNDER CHARLES II.
Of all the American colonies, Virginia, at once the most aristocratic
and the most loyal, was the one for whom the Restoration produced a cup
of unmixed sorrow. During the eight years of the Commonwealth, the
Virginians had governed themselves “with a wise moderation;” peace and
prosperity had prevailed throughout the extent of the land; the
population had rapidly increased, and the present generation, being all
born-Virginians, were distinguished by their patriotism and pride of
country.
Sir William Berkeley was elected governor by the General Assembly of
Virginia two months before the Restoration, and, acknowledging himself
as “the servant of the assembly,” he accepted the appointment from their
hands. But Virginia, speaking from the heart of her faithful loyalist
settlers, even then acknowledged a secret hope of a restored monarchy.
The Restoration took place, and Virginia, like England, set no bounds to
the expression of her joy. An address was sent to the king, “praying his
pardon for their having yielded to a power they were unable to resist.”
Forty-four thousand pounds of tobacco were given to the two deputies who
conveyed the address. Charles transmitted a royal commission to “his
faithful adherent,” Berkeley; and Berkeley, assuming authority under it,
issued writs for the election of a new assembly, no longer as governor
elected by the people, but as commissioner under the king. The loyal
enthusiasm and aristocratic tendencies of the people elected for this
new assembly only landholders and cavaliers. The democratic power of
Virginia was at an end. Momentous changes had already begun, not alone
in her constitution, but in the social condition of her people. Of this
social condition a few words must be allowed us.
There has always been in the character of the southern states “an
instinctive aversion to too much government.” This showed itself early
in Virginia by the isolated manner in which the country was colonised.
Unlike the New England colonists, the spirit of whose life was
organisation and government; who, naturally forming themselves into
communities, established towns with corporate authorities; who regarded
religions instruction as the first concern, and secular instruction as
the second; who, while yet small as a people, branched out into
colonies, and impelled by the spirit of commercial activity, traded to
all parts of the world; unlike these determined, energetic, and
expansive settlers, the people of Virginia showed from the first an
aversion to congregate in towns, or to engage in commerce. They lived on
their plantations, scattered over the colony, like the estates of the
nobility in an old country, and were themselves influenced by the spirit
of feudal institutions.
At the time of the Restoration, sixty years after the first settlement,
Virginia comprehended an extent of country about half the size of
England, with a population of about 40,000, including negro slaves and
indented servants. It was divided into fifty parishes; the plantations
lay dispersed among the banks of rivers and creeks, those on the James
River extending about 100 miles into the interior. Each parish extended
many miles in length along the river’s side, but in breadth ran back
only a mile. This was the average breadth. Many parishes were destitute
of churches, or any means of religious instruction; in fact, not more
than ten parishes were supplied with ministers, and of these some were
by no means of exemplary character. Religious worship was held but once
a day, and such families—and these were by far the greater number—as
lived at a distance from the church, did not trouble themselves to
attend at all. Religion, as evidenced by outward forms of worship, was
by no means a vital object with the Virginian planters of those days.
The general want of schools, likewise owing to the scattered state of
the population, “was most of all bewailed by parents in Virginia. The
want of schools was more deplored than the want of churches. The
children of Virginia, naturally of beautiful and comely persons, and of
more ingenuous spirits than those of England,” grew up almost devoid of
instruction.
“The theocratic form of government in New England,” says Hildreth,
“tended to diminish the influence of wealth by introducing a different
basis of distinction, and still more so that activity of mind, the
consequence of strong religious excitement. Hence, in New England, a
constant tendency towards social equality. In Virginia and Maryland, on
the other hand, the management of provincial and local affairs fell more
and more under the control of a few wealthy men, possessed of large
tracts of land, which they cultivated by the labour partly of slaves,
but principally of indented white servants.
“Indented servants existed, indeed, in all the American colonies; but
the cultivation of tobacco created a special demand for them in Virginia
and Maryland. A regular trade was early established in the transport of
persons who, for the sake of a passage to America, suffered themselves
to be sold by the master of the vessel to serve for a term of years
after their arrival. Nor was this embarkation always voluntary;
sometimes they were entrapped by infamous arts, sometimes even
kidnapped, and sometimes they were persons sentenced to transportation
for political and other offences. Felons so transported were known under
the appellation of ‘jail-birds.’ Cromwell in this way disposed of his
English, Scotch, and Irish prisoners of war, both in Virginia and New
England. On the expiration of their term of servitude, of four, five, or
seven years, these servants acquired all the rights of freemen, and in
Virginia were entitled to the fifty acres of land to which all
immigrants had a claim.”
The plantations lay along the rivers, and trading vessels ascending
them, landed their goods and took the tobacco, the great staple
production of the country, on board at their very doors. There was no
home-manufacture of any kind in Virginia; all manufactured goods were
imported from England. Virginia herself neither exported nor imported.
She possessed not above two vessels of her own; and, though
ship-building and navigation might have been carried on advantageously
from her position, she had neither the talent nor the turn of mind
necessary for such engagements.
As a picture of Virginian life at this period, we will indulge ourselves
with a graphic extract from Bancroft, to whom we are already so largely
obliged. “The generation now in existence was chiefly the fruit of the
soil; they were children of the woods nurtured in the freedom of the
wilderness, and dwelling in lonely cottages scattered along the streams.
No newspaper entered their houses, no printing-press furnished them with
books. They had no recreation but such as nature provides in her wilds;
no education but such as parents in the desert could give to their
offspring. The paths were bridleways rather than roads, and it is
questionable if there was what we should call a bridge in the whole
dominion. Visits were made in boats, or on horseback, through the
forests; and the Virginian, travelling with his pouch of tobacco for
currency, swam the river where there was neither ford nor ferry. Almost
every planter was his own mechanic. The houses, for the most part, but
of one story, and made of wood, often of logs, the windows closed by
convenient shutters for want of glass, were sprinkled on both sides of
the Chesapeake, from the Potomac to the borders of Carolina. There was
hardly such a sight as a cluster of three dwellings. Jamestown was but a
place of a State-house, one church and eighteen houses, occupied by
about a dozen families. Till very lately the legislature assembled in
the hall of an ale-house. Virginia had neither towns nor lawyers. A few
of the wealthier planters, however, lived in braver state at their large
plantations, and surrounded by indented servants and slaves, produced a
new form of society that has sometimes been likened to the manners of
the patriarchs, and sometimes to the baronial pride of feudalism.”
Such was the population of Virginia. Hospitable and luxurious in the
simplicity of their free, unconventional life; loving liberty, not so
much as a sublime principle of human elevation and enlightenment, but as
the very element of their joyous existence; cherishing a sentiment of
loyalty and attachment to the old mother-country, with such traditional
reverence as they would regard the head of an ancestral line;
enthusiastic and impulsive, quick to revenge and keen in their sense of
wrong. We shall see the effect produced on a people of this generous and
mercurial character, by the oppressions of a monarch whom they had
welcomed back to his throne with all the enthusiasm of their traditional
loyalty.
The first evidence of the Restoration perceived in Virginia was the
rigorous enforcement of the Navigation Act, by which all foreign vessels
were excluded from the English colonies. At the expense of 200,000
pounds of tobacco, Sir William Berkeley was sent over by the colony to
remonstrate on their behalf; but Sir William employed his time in
London, not on the business of the colony, but in securing to himself a
share in the Great Carolina Charter, in which, as we have said, he
became one of the eight proprietaries.
So far from anything being done to lessen the pressure of the Navigation
Act on the Anglo-American colonies, the following parliament increased
its stringency, and the colonists were prohibited from shipping their
produce, known under the term “enumerated articles,” to any other market
than that of England; and from importing any European commodities
otherwise than through the English merchant. This law, which pressed
heavily on New England, was fatal to Virginia, whose sole staple was
tobacco, and who depended on the New England trader, whose commercial
dealings were already of a European character, and who contrived for a
long time to set the law at defiance. It was different with
Virginia,—she had no ships of her own; custom-houses sealed her ports;
her market was restricted, and the prices of all foreign goods, coming
to her through the English merchant, were increased.
While these arbitrary and unjust laws were crippling her commerce, a
fatal change was also taking place in her constitution. The first
assembly elected after the Restoration consisted almost entirely of the
aristocratic party, whose first measures were to revise the legislative
code, and weed out those democratic tendencies which had been introduced
during the period of self-government. Under this new, or rather this
revival of the original constitution, the English episcopal church
became the religion of the state, with its canons, liturgy and
catechism. And though, as we have said, there were only about ten
ministers in the fifty parishes, yet strict conformity was required, and
every one was taxed for the support of the established church. Glebes
and parsonages were to be provided with a maintenance of not less than
fourscore pounds to each clergyman, besides fees and perquisites; for
any funeral sermon, 400 pounds weight of tobacco; marriage published by
banns, fifty pounds; by licence, two hundred pounds. Nonconformist
preachers were to be silenced or sent out of the country. Quakers, who
“gathered together unlawful assemblies, teaching and publishing lies and
false doctrines,” were to be imprisoned without trial till they could be
sent out of the colony, and treated as felons on their return. Among
other enactments we find that any “who, out of new-fangled conceits of
their own heretical invention, refuse to have their children baptized by
the lawful minister,” shall be subjected to a fine of 2,000 pounds
weight of tobacco. And a member of the assembly, being accused of
favouring Anabaptist and Quaker opinions, was expelled.
All this severity, however, had not so much the effect of destroying as
of diffusing these “heresies.” Men and women, to whom the great
wilderness had been as the temple of God, in which the spirit had taught
them divine things, now that bigotry and intolerance commenced their
pitiless work in Virginia, removed into the new state of North Carolina,
and took deep root there, as we have seen.
And not only was the church well provided for by the royalist assembly,
but the state also. While Virginia by her citizens elected her governor,
she had allowed him a fixed salary, which, now that he was nominated by
the crown, was insufficient. One thousand pounds, derivable from a
permanent tax on tobacco, with an additional two hundred more than the
whole annual expenditure of the government of Connecticut, was granted
as his permanent salary; but even that did not satisfy him. He
complained that he had not three times as much, adding for his
consolation, “I am, however, supported by my hopes that his gracious
majesty will one day consider me.” Such now was the royal governor of
Virginia.
The justiciary government of the province was also changed; the
magistrates were appointed by the governor and council, and held their
offices for life. The county courts, now independent of the people,
levied county-rates at their own pleasure and for their own
expenses—they being an irresponsible body. Like the county magistrates,
the newly-elected members of assembly, though nominally chosen for two
years held themselves to be equally irresponsible, and remained in
office for many years. Before long, therefore, “the meetings of the
people at the usual places of election had for their object, not the
election of burgesses, but to present their grievances.” Indeed the
power of election, if the exercise of it had been required, was soon
limited; the elective franchise being now restricted to freeholders and
householders.
The Restoration produced in Virginia a political revolution, opposed to
the principle of popular liberty and the progress of humanity. To sum up
the changes which had taken place; we shall find the General Assembly,
which sat at the pleasure of the governor, imposing arbitrary taxes, and
deriving extravagant and exorbitant emoluments; we shall find a
constituency restricted and diminished; religious liberty at an end,
arbitrary taxation in the counties by irresponsible magistrates;
hostility to popular education and the press—regarding which we may
quote the governor’s own words: “Thank God, there are no free schools
nor printing, and I hope we shall not have for these hundred years; for
learning has brought disobedience, and heresy, and sects into the world,
and printing has divulged them and libels against the best government.
God keep us from both!”
In this artificial and unhealthy state of the colony, the cultivation of
tobacco no longer paid the planter, and in order to raise the price, a
“stint” was proposed, that is to say, that the cultivation of tobacco
should cease for one or more years, so as to raise the price. About the
time when this extraordinary measure was proposed, Sir William Berkeley
sent out an exploring party, who crossed the first ridge of the Blue
Mountains, and discovered the wonderful succession of valleys beyond,
full of the richest vegetation, and abounding “with turkey, deer, elk,
and buffalo, gentle and undisturbed as yet by the fear of man.” These
beautiful and affluent regions, which it might have been expected would
have attracted settlers immediately, were however, owing to the sorrows
which were coming upon the colony, not penetrated again for fifty years.
About the same time also, a question was started with regard to negro
slaves, the decision of which was, as might be expected, prejudicial to
that unhappy class. The lawfulness of holding African slaves had been
supposed in part to rest upon their being “heathen;” but now, as
considerable numbers were converted and baptized Christians, this former
plea, if valid, ceased to be so. But the assembly soon settled the
question to the satisfaction of the planters, by an enactment which made
the negro, whether Christian or not, a slave; and furthermore it was
enacted that to cause the death of a slave by excess of punishment
should not be considered as felony. As regarded Indians being held as
slaves, a new law was provided, which made all servants, not being
Christians imported by shipping, slaves for life; and Indian slaves were
imported into Virginia from the West Indies and the Spanish main.
While the governor and the assembly were depriving the Virginian people
of their franchises, and laying burdens on them grievous to be borne,
Charles II., the monarch whom the aristocratical portion of the state
regarded with reverential affection, was preparing to invade even their
rights in no less unwelcome a manner than they had invaded the rights of
the people. In 1669, the Northern Neck, as it is called, the district
lying between the Rappahannock and Potomac rivers, was granted to Lord
Culpepper, “one of the most cunning and covetous men in England,” the
same territory having, immediately after the execution of Charles I.,
been granted to a party of cavaliers as a refuge for royalists, whose
long-established settlements were thus invaded. Nor did the invasion of
rights end here. Four years afterwards, the same lavish monarch granted
to the same Lord John Culpepper and to Henry, Earl of Arlington, one of
the most extravagant of Charles’s courtiers, the husband of the king’s
favourite, Lady Castlemaine, and esteemed to be the “best-bred man at
court,” “all the dominion of land and water called Virginia for the full
term of thirty-one years, together with all quit-rents, escheats, the
power to grant land, and all other powers of absolute sovereignty.”
The assembly was alarmed; and sent over deputies to beseech of the king
to reconsider this grant, or to purchase it for the colony; for which
purpose, as well as for the expenses of the deputies, an enormous
poll-tax was imposed. Under this new grant, Berkeley’s commission as
governor expired, but the aristocratic party voted him an increase of
salary, and solicited his reappointment as governor for life; and he
continued to hold office.
The discontent of Virginia rose to a great height. The people, who had
not their political or local gatherings, “now met in the solitude of the
forests to discuss their grievances. They were ripe for insurrection;
and, seeing the spirit that was in them, the men of wealth and
consideration, who otherwise were stung by their own and their country’s
wrongs to resistance, held aloof.”
In the meantime, events were bringing matters to a crisis. And, as so
singularly happens at times of public calamity and excitement, unusual
natural occurrences are regarded as portentous omens, so now a large
comet was visible in the sky, the tail of which streamed westward;
flights of pigeons, such as had never been since the time of the former
Indian wars, and which darkened the whole heavens, together with a
fearful plague of flies, prepared the popular mind, as it were, for the
calamities which were at hand.
These phenomena, which excited so deeply the superstitious fears of the
Virginians, were contemporaneous with those which we have already
mentioned as exciting similar feelings in the breast of New England at
the commencement of the great Indian war. Here, also, were they attended
by the breaking out of an Indian war. The Susquehannah Indians, being
driven by the Senecas from the head of the Chesapeake, came down upon
Maryland, and the Virginian planters of the Northern Neck aided in their
expulsion. Among these planters was John Washington, great-grandfather
of the celebrated General Washington, and who, with his brother
Lawrence, had emigrated about eighteen years before from England.
Washington was colonel of the forces employed against the Indians; and
having unfortunately and unjustifiably put to death six Indian chiefs
who had come to him to treat of peace, war broke out with tenfold
violence. It was now a war of reprisals; the savage was inflamed with
vengeance, and the midnight war-whoop was the signal of death to the
peaceful and defenceless inhabitants of the frontier. The people rose in
terror and demanded means of defence. But Berkeley, who held a monopoly
of the beaver trade in Virginia, discouraged the war and disregarded
their danger.
The people, irritated by their wrongs, and now incensed at the
indifference of the governor to their immediate distress, looked round
for a leader, and one was at hand. This insurgent chief was Nathaniel
Bacon, a young man not yet thirty, of great wealth and expectations, who
had studied law in London. His uncle, of the same name, and to whom he
was presumptive heir, was a member of the council; young Bacon also was
about to be admitted, though he was suspected by Berkeley of being
“popularly inclined.”
This young man was possessed of all the qualities requisite for a
popular leader; he had a fine address, was singularly eloquent and
persuasive, quick of apprehension, brave, yet discreet in action;
“though young, master of those endowments which constitute a complete
man; wisdom to apprehend, and discretion to execute.” The people
demanded that they should defend themselves as well as assert their
rights, and that Bacon should have a commission as their leader. Five
hundred men were ready to obey him. Bacon said that if another white man
were murdered, he would march against the Indians with no other
commission than his sword. Soon after, the Indians fell upon his own
people and slew them. This determined him to action. But scarcely had he
commenced his march against the Indians, than Berkeley, fearing the
result of a leader of Bacon’s influence and address on the minds of an
already disaffected people, proclaimed him and his followers rebels, and
hired troops to go in pursuit of them. The wealthier portion of Bacon’s
followers obeyed the summons to disperse, but he, with a small
determined band, pursued his purpose. Meantime an insurrection in
another part of the country compelled Berkeley to return to Jamestown,
where he was met by the insurgents, who demanded the immediate
dissolution of the assembly, which they regarded as the authors of the
country’s calamities.
Alarmed by the aspect of affairs, Berkeley acquiesced; the assembly was
dissolved, and writs issued for a new election, in which Bacon, now
having returned triumphant from his expedition against the Indians, was
elected member for Henrico county. The new assembly, spite of the
disfranchisement of the freemen, was one of a popular character, and the
measures which they immediately introduced were liberal and reformatory,
and by no means calculated to please the governor, who still continued
to treat Bacon as a delinquent. Bacon, on his part, in order to
conciliate the opposite faction, and to satisfy his aged and wealthy
relative, acknowledged on one knee, at the bar of the house, his error
in having taken up arms without a commission; and on this
acknowledgment, Berkeley promised him a commission as commander-in-chief
on the following Monday, that being Saturday. The town rang with
acclamations, and he was again hailed by the populace as the defender of
Virginia.
[Illustration: BACON ADDRESSING THE COUNCIL.]
But when, on the Monday, the granting of the commission was deferred by
the governor, and so on for several days, Bacon began to apprehend that
treachery was intended, which apprehensions also the elder Bacon seems
to have seconded. He suddenly, therefore, withdrew from Jamestown, and
warrants were secretly issued to seize him.
In a few days Bacon reappeared, at the head of a considerable body of
armed men, within a short distance of Jamestown. Berkeley called up his
forces to defend the town, but the soldiers were disaffected, half of
them were favourable to the popular side. Within four days after the
alarm of this second popular outbreak, Bacon, at the head of 600 men,
stood before the State-house in Jamestown. Berkeley, in a sort of tragic
excitement, rushed out, and, baring his breast, exclaimed, “Here, shoot
me! ’Fore God, a fair mark! shoot.”
“No, may it please your honour,” returned Bacon, calmly, “we will not
hurt a hair of your head, nor of any other 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.”
Berkeley returned to the State-house, accompanied by Bacon, whose
partisans outside, crowding round the windows, exclaimed, “We’ll have
it; we’ll have it!” “You shall have it; you shall have it!” said one of
the burgesses, addressing them from the house, and they withdrew,
pacified. Bacon, once more in the house, “harangued the body for near an
hour on the Indian disturbances; the condition of the public revenues;
the exorbitant taxes, abuses and corruptions of the administration, and
all the grievances of their miserable country.”
“The commission was issued,” says Bancroft, “and the ameliorating
legislation of the assembly was ratified. That better legislation was
completed, according to the new style of computation, on the 4th of
July, 1676, just 100 years to a day before the Congress of the United
States adopting the declaration which had been framed by a statesman of
Virginia, who, like Bacon, was ‘popularly inclined,’ began a new era in
the history of man.” “The child is father of the man,” may be said with
equal truth of nations as of individuals. The early history of America
foretold a strong maturity.
A better day seemed now to be at hand, and the whole country rejoiced
with hope, when again the tempest gathered. Scarcely had Bacon marched
with his troops towards the frontiers, than Berkeley, repenting of the
concession that had been made to the popular party, again proclaimed him
a traitor. This unadvised step excited the indignation of every generous
heart in Virginia, and the party of Bacon was strengthened by the
accession of many powerful names. Drummond the late governor of North
Carolina, and Richard Lawrence, “a man of deep reflection and energy of
purpose,” hastened to the camp of Bacon. “Shall persons wholly devoted
to their king and country, men hazarding their lives against the public
enemy, deserve the appellation of rebels and traitors?” exclaimed Bacon,
when the news reached him. “But those in authority, how have they
obtained their estates? Have they not devoured the common treasury? What
arts, what sciences, what schools of learning have they promoted? I
appeal to the king and parliament, where the cause of the people will be
heard impartially.”
The purpose of Bacon was now changed; and, addressing the people of
Virginia, he invited them, by their love of country and home, to meet
him in convention at Middle Plantation, now Williamsburgh, and “aid in
rescuing the colony from the tyranny of Berkeley.” The call was
responded to, and an oath was taken by a convention composed of the
principal men of the colony, to join him against the Indians, and to
prevent, if possible, a civil war; yet still, if forces should arrive
from England—for Berkeley had appealed to the mother-country—they would
resist them, until their own appeal should reach the king.
It was about this time that “a spy was detected in Bacon’s camp. Being
sentenced to death by court-martial, Bacon declared that if any one in
the army would speak a word to save him, he should not suffer. Not a
word was spoken, and he was put to death. Bacon’s clemency won the
admiration of the army, and this was the only instance of capital
punishment under his orders; nor did he plunder any private house.”
Bacon was now almost omnipotent in the province. Drummond advised the
immediate deposition of Berkeley, urging from the ancient records of
Virginia that such things had already been done. Bacon preferred rather
that his retreat should be regarded as abdication, for he had left
Jamestown, and fled across Chesapeake Bay, to Accomac, on the eastern
shore; and so it was determined, the ten years for which he was
appointed having expired. As with the Puritans of New England, so here,
in this great contest for liberty and popular rights, were women among
the active spirits. “The child that is unborn,” said Sarah Drummond,
“shall have cause to rejoice of the good that will come by this rising
of the country.” “Should we overcome the governor,” said the cautious
Ralph Weldinge, “we must expect a greater power from England, that would
certainly be our ruin.” In reply, this spirited woman reminded them that
England had much to think of at that time, being divided herself into
hostile factions, and taking up from the ground a small stick, which she
broke, she said “I fear the power of England no more than a broken
straw.” As regarded the navigation act, she said, anticipating a future
greatness for Virginia, “We can build ships, and like New England, trade
to any part of the world.” With such women the men could not do less
than strive bravely.
Meanwhile Sir William Berkeley, who meant anything but an abdication by
his flight, collected at Accomac a large number of adherents, men of a
base and cowardly nature, allured by the passion for plunder, among whom
were great numbers of the indented servants of the insurgents to whom he
promised liberty. With these, a number of royalists and a horde of
Indians, he sailed with five English vessels and ten sloops for
Jamestown, where landing without opposition, he fell on his knees and
returned thanks to God, after which he again proclaimed Bacon and his
party traitors. As regards these ships, we must relate how they came
into the governor’s hands, and this we will do in the words of Campbell,
in his Introduction to the History of the Old Dominion. “There was a
gentleman in Virginia, Giles Bland, only son of John Bland, an eminent
merchant of London, who was personally known to the king and had
considerable interest at court. As he was sending out his son to
Virginia, to take possession of the estate of his uncle, Theodorick
Bland, he got him appointed collector-general of the customs. In this
capacity he had a right to board any vessel he thought proper. He was a
man of talent, courage, of a haughty bearing, and having quarrelled with
the governor, now sided warmly with Bacon. There chanced to be lying in
York River, a vessel of sixteen guns, commanded by Captain Laramore.
Bland boarded her with a party of armed men, on pretence of searching
for contraband goods, and seizing the captain confined him to the cabin.
Laramore, discovering Bland’s designs, resolved to deceive in his turn,
and entered into his measures with such apparent sincerity, that he was
restored to command. With her and a vessel of four guns under Captain
Carver, Bland, now appointed Bacon’s lieutenant-general, sailed with 250
men for Accomac. On his passage he was joined by another vessel,
commanded by Captain Barlow, one of Cromwell’s soldiers, and so appeared
off Accomac with four sail. The governor had not a single vessel to
defend himself, and was overwhelmed with despair. At this juncture he
received a note from Laramore, offering, if he would send him some
assistance, to deliver Bland with all his men into his hands. The
governor at first suspected a trick, but being advised by his friend
Colonel Ludwell, accepted Laramore’s offer as his only alternative, and
Ludwell himself undertook the enterprise. Accompanied by twenty-six men
he appeared alongside Laramore’s vessel, and not only boarded her
without loss of a man, but took the other vessels also soon after.
Bland, Carver and the other chiefs were sent to the governor, and the
common men secured on board the vessel.
“When Laramore waited on the governor, he clasped him in his arms,
called him his deliverer, and gave him a large share of favour. In a few
days the brave Carver and Barlow were hanged on the Accomac shore and
Bland put in irons. Captain Gardiner, sailing from James River, now came
to the governor’s relief with his own vessel, the Adam and Eve, and
several sloops. Sir William Berkeley, by this unexpected turn of
affairs, was suddenly raised from the abyss of despair to the pinnacle
of hope.”
Berkeley now took up his position in Jamestown, and was soon besieged by
Bacon and his force, which having been dispersed, was considerably
inferior in numbers to that of the governor. Jamestown was situated on a
peninsula two miles long and about a mile broad, washed on the south by
the river and encompassed on the north by a deep creek. The situation
was insalubrious, the low ground being full of marshes and swamps of
brackish waters, which created, especially in summer, a constant
malaria. Bacon commenced intrenchments across the neck of the peninsula,
and as a means of defence against the besieged, while engaged in this
work, resorted to an extraordinary expedient, which we will give in the
words of Mrs. Ann Cotton. “He was no sooner arrived at town, when, by
several small parties of horse, he fetched into his little league all
the prime men’s wives whose husbands were with the governor, as Colonel
Bacon’s lady, Madam Bray, Madam Page, Madam Ballard and others, which
the next morning he presents to the view of their husbands and friends
in town upon the top of the small work he had cast up in the night,
where he caused them to tarry till he had finished his defence against
his enemies’ shot, it being the only place for those in the towns to
make a sally at.
They made a sally, the ladies being removed, but to very little purpose;
and two or three days afterwards, being impatient for plunder, the
followers of the governor “embarked in the night, secretly weighing
anchor, and dropping silently down the river,” fled from an enemy
greatly inferior to themselves in number, and who, while lying outside
the walls, had been exposed to hardships much severer than their own.
Berkeley also fled, accompanied by the inhabitants and their goods, thus
leaving Jamestown open to the insurgents.
The next morning Bacon entered; it was reported that the governor had
only fled to join a party of royalists who were advancing from the
north. He determined therefore to burn the town, to prevent its becoming
a harbour to the enemy; and Drummond and Lawrence, who were with Bacon,
not only counselled this desperate measure, but themselves set fire to
their own houses, which were the best in the town after the governor’s.
The number of houses, however, was small, amounting to about eighteen;
but the church, the oldest in America, and the newly-erected
State-house, were consumed likewise, “the ruins of the church-tower and
the memorials in the adjoining grave yard being all that now remain to
point out to the stranger where once Jamestown stood.”
Leaving the smoking ruins of Jamestown, Bacon marched to meet Colonel
Brent, who was advancing from the Potomac with 1,200 men. No battle
ensued, however, for the greater number of these deserted the royalist
cause, and Bacon, advancing to Gloucester, called a convention and
administered an oath to the people, swearing them to the cause of
popular liberty. The whole of Virginia, with the exception of the
eastern shore, was now revolutionised. Berkeley had again fled to
Accomac.
At this important moment, Bacon, who had inhaled disease on the marshes
of Jamestown, suddenly fell sick, and on the 1st of October died,
leaving the great cause of the people without a leader. His death wrung
the popular heart; despair fell on all, for there was no one to finish
his work.
The place of his interment was never known; it was concealed even from
the body of his partisans, lest his remains should be insulted by the
vindictive Berkeley. According to one tradition his friend Lawrence
secretly buried him, laying stones upon his coffin; others maintain that
his body was sunk in the deep waters of the majestic York River; and
this is by no means improbable.
General Ingram succeeded to the command of the popular forces on Bacon’s
death; and Berkeley, rejoicing in the misfortune that had befallen his
enemies, roused himself to resistance, and sent Colonel Beverley to meet
them. The tide now set in against the insurgents; Beverley immediately
captured Thomas Hansford, an insurgent leader, “a young, gay, and
gallant man; fond of amusement, impatient of restraint, keenly sensitive
to honour, fearless of death and passionately fond of the land that gave
him birth.” Brought before Berkeley, the choleric old cavalier ordered
him to be hanged. He heard his sentence unmoved, but asked as “a favour
that he might be shot like a soldier and not hanged like a dog.” “You
die as a rebel, not as a soldier!” was the reply. Reviewing his life, he
professed repentance of his sins, but would not admit that his so-called
rebellion was a sin; and his last words were, “I die a loyal subject and
a lover of my country.”
Hansford was the first Virginian who died on the gallows; the first
American martyr to the popular cause. He was executed on the 13th of
November, 1676. Other insurgent leaders were taken; among the rest,
Edmund Cheesman and Thomas Wilford; the latter, the second son of a
royalist knight who had died fighting for Charles I., and now a
successful Virginian emigrant. He, too, was hanged. Cheesman was brought
up before the governor. “Why did you engage in Bacon’s designs?”
demanded the latter. At that instant a young woman rushed forward, the
wife of the prisoner, and replying before he had time to utter a word,
exclaimed, “My provocations made my husband join in Bacon’s cause. But
for me he would never have done it!” And then falling on her knees, she
added, “and seeing what has been done was through my means, I am most
guilty; let me be hanged and my husband be pardoned!”
The governor, incapable of feeling the devoted affection of this noble
woman, ordered her off, adding the grossest insult to his words. Her
husband died in prison of ill usage.
With the success of his party the vindictive passions of the governor
increased. Mercy was an unknown sentiment to his heart, and his avarice
gratified itself by fines and confiscations. Fearing the result of trial
by jury, he resorted to courts-martial, where the verdicts were certain
and severe. Four persons were thus hanged on one occasion. Drummond was
seized, in the depth of winter, in Chickahomony Swamp, half famished,
and being stripped and put in irons, was conveyed to Berkeley. Berkeley,
seeing him approach, hastened out to meet him, and with a bow of
derision, saluted him: “Mr. Drummond, you are very welcome; I am more
glad to see you than any man in Virginia; Mr. Drummond, you shall be
hanged in half an hour!” “What your honour pleases,” replied the
patriot, calmly. He was tried by court-martial, and though he had never
held any military command, he was immediately condemned; and a ring
being forcibly torn from his finger, he was executed within three hours.
The fate of Lawrence was never known; but report said that he and four
others, in the depth of winter, when the snow was ankle-deep, threw
themselves into a river, rather than perish like Drummond. The conduct
of Berkeley had been that of a dastard in the struggle, and now his
cruelty was that of a fiend. A royal proclamation arrived from England,
promising pardon to all but Bacon. But this was utterly disregarded,
Berkeley, indeed, altered it to suit his own temper, and excepted from
mercy about fifty persons, among whom was Sarah Grindon, the wife of the
late attorney. Twenty-two were hanged; three died from hard usage in
prison; three fled before trial, and two after conviction.
In the course of two months, trials before the governor and council, by
“juries of life and death,” were substituted instead of courts-martial;
but the result was little different. Giles Bland, who, we may remember,
endeavoured to seize Laramore’s ship, was one of the first victims. It
was in vain that he pleaded the king’s pardon, then in the governor’s
pocket. The governor had condemned him already, and he perished. Indeed,
“none escaped being found guilty, condemned, and hanged, who put
themselves on trial.” The land groaned with the excess of punishment.
The very assembly itself besought of the governor “to desist from
sanguinary punishments, for none could tell when or where they would
cease.” And when executions ceased, other modes of punishment began.
Vast numbers, without trial, were condemned to heavy fines and
confiscation of property. Many were banished, their property being
forfeited; others were sentenced to beg pardon on their knees for their
lives, with ropes round their necks. In some cases, where the
magistrates were inclined to leniency, a small tape, or “Manchester
binding,” as it was called, was allowed as a substitute for the rope;
but this, when it came to the knowledge of the assembly, was censured as
contempt of authority. Many of the fines went to the use of the
governor.
When the news of these bloody doings reached London, Charles, who, with
all his faults, was not cruel, exclaimed with indignation, “The old fool
has taken away more lives in that naked country than I have for the
murder of my father!” There was some mercy in England, though there was
none in Virginia; for when Sarah Drummond, on the execution of her
husband and the confiscation of his estate for the use of the governor,
was driven out, with her five small children, to starve in the woods,
she, like a brave-hearted woman, as she was, having sent to London a
petition setting forth the cruel treatment of her husband and the
destitution of herself and her children, the Lord Chancellor Finch
exclaimed—Sir William Berkeley being then dead—“I know not whether it be
lawful to wish a person alive, otherwise I could wish Sir William
Berkeley so, to see what could be answered to such barbarity; but he has
answered that before this.”
As regarded the causes of this insurrection and the true character of
its leaders, every possible means were taken to veil them in obscurity,
or to throw disrepute and infamy upon them. No printing-press was
allowed in Virginia. It was a crime punishable by fine and whipping to
speak ill of Berkeley and his friends, or to write anything favourable
to the rebels or the rebellion. Every accurate account remained in
manuscript for more than a hundred years: so that the struggles and
sufferings of these unfortunate patriots were for so long misunderstood
and cruelly maligned.
“It was on the occasion of this rebellion,” says the historian, “that
English troops were first introduced into America. In three years,
however, they were disbanded, and became amalgamated with the people.
Sir William Berkeley returned to England with the squadron which brought
out these forces, it being necessary to justify his conduct there, where
the report of his cruelties had excited a strong feeling against him;
and, spite even of the strong faction which adhered to his principles in
Virginia, and which had restored the old order of things, so great was
the public joy at his departure, that guns were fired and bonfires made.
Arrived in England, he found the public sentiments so violent against
him that he died, it was said of a broken heart, and before he had had
an opportunity of justifying himself with the monarch.”
Colonel Herbert Jeffreys was left by Berkeley as deputy in his absence,
and on his death he assumed the office of governor. The results of
Bacon’s rebellion were disastrous to Virginia. This insurrection was
made a plea against granting a more liberal charter, and the
restrictions and oppressions under which Virginia had groaned became
only more stringent and heavy. All those liberal measures which were
introduced by Bacon’s assembly, and which were known under the name of
“Bacon’s Acts,” were annulled and the former abuses returned. In vain
were commissioners sent over by the monarch to redress their grievances;
reports of tyranny and rapine were received, but no amelioration of the
system which permitted them was introduced; “every measure of effectual
reform was considered void, and every aristocratic feature which had
been introduced into the legislature was perpetuated.”
When Virginia was granted to the Lords Culpepper and Arlington, the
former was appointed governor for life on the demise of Berkeley; and
now, therefore, this event having taken place, it was expected that he
should hasten to that country to assume his duties. Willing, however, to
regard his appointment as a sinecure, he fingered still in England,
until reproved by Charles himself for negligence, he embarked in 1680
for Virginia, where he arrived in May, and took the oath of office in
Jamestown. Culpepper carried with him what was intended should introduce
a spirit of peace and satisfaction through the colony—an act of general
pardon and indemnity under the great seal, which remitted all forfeiture
of estates in consequence of the rebellion, excepting in ten instances.
Bacon, Bland and Lawrence being among them. So far was good; but other
acts there were which at the same time caused general dissatisfaction
and misery. The principal of these was, that the impost of two shillings
on every hogshead of tabacco should be perpetual, and instead of being
accounted for to the assembly as hitherto, should be applied as a royal
revenue for the support of government. His own salary—as governor—of
£1,000 he doubled, on the plea that, being a nobleman, such increase was
necessary; besides house-rent and perquisites, amounting to nearly
another thousand. Not satisfied with this, “he altered the currency, and
then disbanding the soldiers, paid their arrears in the new coin,
greatly to his own advantage. But shortly afterwards, finding that, by
the same rule, his own perquisites would be deteriorated, he restored it
to its former value.”
Lord Culpepper remained in Virginia from May to August, and having in
these few months sown the seed of a plentiful harvest of sorrow and
dissatisfaction for that unhappy country, returned to England.
Virginia was now quiet, but her miseries were not at an end. Large crops
of tobacco were raised, and the price sank far below a remunerative
scale. Attempts were made to plant towns, to prescribe new channels for
commerce, and to introduce manufactures; but these were not the natural
growth of the times or the soil, and trade was only impeded by any laws
to direct it. Tobacco sank still lower, and again the scheme of the
“stint,” or the cessation of planting, was entertained. During two
sessions the assembly endeavoured to legislate for these difficult
circumstances; but in May, 1682, the malcontents commenced to cut up the
tobacco-plants, especially the sweet-scented, which was produced nowhere
else, and to this futile procedure, Culpepper, who had now returned, put
a stop by measures of great severity—hanging the ringleaders and
enacting plant-cutting high treason. Lord Culpepper had in the interim
of his absence purchased the share of Arlington, and he now returned to
establish his own claim to the Northern Neck. It was vain, spite of the
injustice of the case, for the holders of land in this fine district to
attempt the maintenance of their prior claims; nothing remained for them
but compromise.
A printing-press was at this time brought over into Virginia, by John
Buckner, who printed the enactments of the session; but such publicity
was dreaded. He was called to account by Culpepper, and forbidden to
print anything until his Majesty’s pleasure should be known; and the
following year any printing-press was forbidden in Virginia, under the
royal authority.
The slave-code received some alterations during Culpepper’s government,
which were worthy of the remorseless spirit of the man. Slaves were
forbidden the use of arms, or to leave their masters’ plantations
without a written pass, or to lift a hand against a Christian, even in
self-defence. Runaways, who refused to give themselves up, might be
lawfully killed.
“All accounts,” says Bancroft, “agree in describing the condition of
Virginia at this time as one of extreme distress. Culpepper had no
compassion for poverty; no sympathy for a province impoverished by
perverse legislation; and the residence in Virginia was so irksome, that
in a few months he again returned to England. The council reported the
griefs and restlessness of the country, and renewed the request that the
grant to Culpepper might be recalled. The poverty of the province
rendered negotiation easy, and in the following year Virginia was once
more a royal province.”
Lord Howard of Effingham succeeded Culpepper as governor, but the change
was hardly beneficial to the unhappy province. Office was only desirable
to him as a means of making money. Nothing could exceed the mean avarice
of this man; it became almost a proverb. It is said that, with an eye to
the fees, he established a Court of Chancery, claiming, by virtue of his
office, to be sole judge.
The accession of James II. produced no change in the state of Virginia;
but the suppression of Monmouth’s rebellion sent over to her a number of
truly noble, though involuntary exiles. These were the men who, by
sentence of the infamous judge Jefferies, were condemned to
transportation, and sent over for sale to the labour-market of the
American colonies. The courtiers of James rejoiced in this harvest of
blood; and Virginia, smarting from her own wounds, received the exiles
with mercy. These political convicts were, many of them, men of family
and superior education, accustomed to the conveniences and elegancies of
life; and, as regarded them, the government of Virginia received
injunctions, under the signature of the monarch; “take care,” said they,
“that these convicted persons continue to serve for ten years at least,
and that they be not permitted, in any manner, to redeem themselves by
money or otherwise until that time be fully expired. Prepare a bill for
the assembly of our colony with such clauses as shall be requisite for
this purpose.” But Virginia had suffered too much not to sympathise with
her noble transports. She had no wish to make the yoke of their
suffering any heavier. In December, 1689, the exiles were pardoned.
America, in every one of her colonies, was benefited by the intolerance
and the oppressions of Europe. Hence she derived her best population;
hence her clear instinct of liberty, and the courage and energy which
bore her through the struggle for its attainment.
In the fourth year of James II., “the Northern Neck was assigned to
Culpepper, with many privileges, on account of the loyal services of his
family. The only daughter and heiress of Lord Culpepper, marrying Lord
Fairfax, this splendid territory came into his hands.”
The state of Virginia did not improve under James II.; and so oppressive
was the government found to be, that the first assembly convened after
his accession, called in question the monarch’s right to negative such
of their proceedings as did not meet with his approbation; the king was
displeased, and censured “the disaffected and unjust disposition of the
members, and their irregular and tumultuous proceedings.” The assembly
was dissolved by royal proclamation, and James Collins loaded with irons
and imprisoned for treasonable expressions. But the council stood firm
to their principles of obedience and conformity, and pledged themselves
to bring the state to submission. Beverley, a royalist and former
adherent of Berkeley’s, and for a long time clerk of the assembly, in
whose soul the despotism of the time seems to have called forth a germ
of liberty, fell under the strong resentment of the king; and being
disfranchised, and a prosecution commenced against him, he died soon
afterwards, a martyr to those very principles for which Bacon had
struggled, and which he then had opposed.
The principles of Bacon indeed were, under the severity of the present
rule, becoming the principles of the whole of Virginia, as the noblest
essences are only brought out by extreme pressure. The measures of the
king for the erection of forts for the defence of the colony were very
coolly received. The spirit of the colony was shown by the new assembly,
which was now, in 1688, convened, and for the turbulent and unmanageable
disposition of which, it was very soon dissolved by the council.
Discussion, so long fettered, once more asserted its liberty; the
scattered dwellers along the river banks passed from house to house the
kindling cry of liberty. The whole colony was about to rise once more;
and Effingham, alarmed at the position of affairs, hastened to England,
followed by Philip Ludwell, as his accuser in the name of the people.
During his absence, Nathaniel Bacon, the elder, president of the
council, assumed the temporary administration. But before either the
accused or the accuser reached the English shores, James had abdicated,
and that Revolution had taken place, which for the moment cast the
affairs of Virginia into the shade.