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The Story
of Bacon's Rebellion.
The Story
of
Bacon's Rebellion
By MARY NEWTON STANARD
New York and Washington
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1907.
_Copyright, 1907,
By The Neale Publishing Company._
TO MY HUSBAND
WILLIAM GLOVER STANARD,
MY COMPANION AND GUIDE
IN ALL MY PILGRIMAGES
INTO THAT CHARMED REGION,
VIRGINIA'S PAST.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. Sir William Berkeley 13
II. The People's Grievances 18
III. The Reign of Terror 29
IV. Enter, Mr. Bacon 40
V. The Indian War-Path 50
VI. The June Assembly 58
VII. The Commission 74
VIII. Civil War 86
IX. The Indian War-Path Again 96
X. Governor Berkeley in Accomac 109
XI. Bacon Returns to Jamestown 114
XII. Jamestown Besieged and Burned 122
XIII. "The Prosperous Rebel" 132
XIV. Death of Bacon and End of the Rebellion 142
XV. Peace Restored 156
XVI. Conclusion 162
Appendix 171
PREFACE.
After the thrilling scenes through which the Colony of Virginia passed
during its earliest days, the most portentous, the most dramatic, the
most picturesque event of its seventeenth century history was the
insurrection known as "Bacon's Rebellion." All writers upon the history
of Virginia refer to it, and a few have treated it at some length, but
it is only in quite late years that facts unearthed in the English
public records have enabled students to reach a proper understanding of
the causes and the results of this famous uprising, and given them
accurate and detailed information concerning it. The subject has long
been one of popular interest, in spite of the imperfect knowledge
touching it, and it is believed that a clear and simple presentation of
the information now available will be welcomed by those whose attention
has been attracted to a man of most striking personality and to a
stirring period of Colonial history.
During the year 1907 thousands of persons from all parts of the world
will visit the scenes of Nathaniel Bacon's brief career, will see--while
passing on James River--the site of his home at "Curles Neck," will
visit Richmond, where "Bacon's Quarter" is still a name, will linger in
the historic city of Williamsburg, once the "Middle Plantation," will
stand within the ancient tower of the church which the rebels burned at
Jamestown, and from, possibly, the very spot where Bacon and Sir William
Berkeley had their famous quarrel, will see the foundations of the old
State House--but lately excavated--before which the antagonists stood.
While the writer of this monograph has made a careful and thorough study
of all records of the period, remaining in England or America, and has
earnestly endeavored to give an exact and unbiased account, and while
she has made no statement not based upon original sources, her story is
addressed especially to the general reader. She has therefore not
burdened her pages with references to the authorities she has used, a
list of which will be found in the appendix.
THE STORY OF BACON'S REBELLION--VIRGINIA, 1676.
I.
SIR WILLIAM BERKELEY.
The year 1676 dawned upon troublous scenes in Virginia. Being a time
when men were wont to see in every unusual manifestation of Nature the
warning shadow cast ahead by some coming event, the colonists darkly
reminded each other how the year past had been marked by three
"Prodigies." The first of these was "a large comet every evening for a
week or more, at southwest, thirty-five degrees high, streaming like a
horse's tail westwards, until it reached (almost) the horizon, and
setting towards the northwest." The second consisted of "flights of
pigeons, in breadth nigh a quarter of the mid-hemisphere, and of their
length was no visible end, whose weight break down the limbs of large
trees whereon they rested at nights, of which the fowlers shot abundance
and ate 'em," and the third, of "swarms of flies about an inch long, and
big as the top of a man's little finger, rising out of spigot holes in
the earth, which ate the new sprouted leaves from the tops of the trees,
without other harm, and in a month left us."
Looking backward from the practical point of view of our day, and
beholding that memorable year under the cold light of fact, it does not
seem that any evil omen should have been needed to make clear that a
veritable witch's caldron of dangers was brewing in Colonial Virginia,
and that some radical change in the administration of the government
alone could have prevented it from reaching boiling point.
Sir William Berkeley had served two long terms as Governor, during which
his attractive personality and intellectual gifts had brought him wide
popularity, and his home, "Green Spring," some four miles from
Jamestown, had become famous for its atmosphere of refinement and good
cheer, and as a resort for wandering Cavaliers. He was now--grown old in
years and sadly changed in character--serving a third term; reigning,
one might almost say. Stern and selfish as he had become, bending his
will only to the wishes of the young wife of whom he was childishly fond
and who was, by many, blamed for the change in him, he makes an
unlovely, but withal a pathetic figure in the history of Virginia.
Every inch a gallant soldier, every inch a gentleman, yet haughty,
unsympathetic and unlovable; narrow in mind and in heart; clinging
desperately to Old World traditions in a new country eager to form
traditions of its own; struggling blindly to train the people under him
to a habit of unquestioning obedience and submission to the powers that
be, however arbitrary and oppressive those powers might become--a habit
which, however deep-rooted it might have been in its native soil, could
hardly be expected to bear transplanting to a land so wide and free as
America, and so far distant from its parent stem.
To Sir William Berkeley his sovereign was literally "his most sacred
Majesty." Whatever that sovereign's human frailties might be, the kingly
purple covered them all. His slightest whim was holy; to question his
motives or the rightness and wisdom of his commands was little short of
blasphemy. Furthermore, as the King's agent and representative in
Virginia, Governor Berkeley expected like homage toward himself. In
short, he was a bigoted royalist and egotist, believing first in the
King and second in himself, or rather, perhaps, first in himself, and
then in the King, and the confession of faith which he lived up to with
unswerving consistency was the aggrandizement of those already great and
the keeping in subjection of those already lowly.
Yet, high-spirited old Cavalier though he was, knowing nothing of
personal cowardice nor fearing to match his good sword against any in
the land, The People, whom his aristocratic soul despised, inspired him
with continual dread.
It most naturally follows that to such a mind the unpardonable sin was
rebellion. No matter what the provocation to rebellion might be, the
crime of presuming to resist the King's government was one that could
not be justified, and the chief policy of Sir William's administration
was to keep the people where they were as little as possible likely to
commit it. Recognizing that ideas might become dangerous weapons in
their possession, he took pains lest they should develop them, and
thanked God that there were no public schools or printing-presses in
Virginia. He even discouraged the parsons from preaching for fear that
the masses might gain too much of the poison of knowledge through
sermons. He declared that "learning had brought disobedience into the
world," and his every act showed that he was determined to give it no
chance to bring disobedience to the English government or to himself
into Virginia.
II.
THE PEOPLE'S GRIEVANCES.
Around the Governor had gathered a ring of favorites, called by the
people "grandees," who formed an inner circle which grew daily richer
and more important as those outside of its magic bounds sunk into
greater obscurity and wretchedness. The result was, under an outward
show of unity, two distinct parties, deeply antagonistic in feeling, the
one made up of the Governor and the Governor's friends--small in numbers
but powerful in wealth and influence--and the other of the people,
strong only in numbers and in hatred of their oppressors. The one party
making merry upon the fat of that goodly land, the other feeding upon
the husks and smarting under a scourge each several lash of which was an
intolerable "grievance."
It would be impossible to gain a faithful picture of the time without a
knowledge of the nature of some of these grievances. Most of them were
summed up in the melancholy and inharmonious cry of "hard times," which
made itself heard throughout the broad land--a cry which in whatsoever
country or time it be raised invariably gives rise to discontent with
the existing government, and, in extreme cases, brings with it a
readiness on the part of the distressed ones to catch at any measure,
try any experiment that seems to hold out promise of relief. One cause
of the poverty of the people of Virginia in 1676 was to be found in the
low price of tobacco--the sole money product of the colony--through a
long series of years. For this and the consequent suffering the
government was, of course, not responsible. Indeed, it sought to find a
remedy by attempting to bring about, for a time, a general cessation of
tobacco culture in the colonies. A scheme to better the condition of the
people by introducing diversified industries was also started, and with
this end in view tanneries were established in each county, and an
effort was made to build new towns in several places, but it soon became
plain that they could not be maintained. These unhappy attempts became,
by increasing the taxes, merely fresh causes of discontent. Yet, while
they were blunders, they were well meant, and in accordance with the
spirit of the times.
Giving the government all honor due for taking even these misguided
steps in behalf of the people, it must be confessed that there were
other troubles greatly to its discredit.
The heaviest of these were the long continued Assembly,--while the
people clamored, justly, for a new election,--the oppressive taxes, and
the Indian troubles.
As early as 1624 the Virginia Assembly had declared that the Governor
(for all he was his Majesty's representative) could not levy taxes
against the will of the Burgesses, which, since the Burgesses were
supposed to represent the people, was as much as to say against the will
of the people. Governor Berkeley's Burgesses, however, did not
represent the people. The Assembly chosen in 1862, and composed almost
entirely of sympathizers with the Governor, was so much to the old man's
mind that, saying that "men were more valuable in any calling, in
proportion to their experience," he refused to permit a new election,
and the consequence was that in the thirteen years before our story
opens, during which this Assembly sat under Sir William's influence, he
had brought it up to his hand, as it were, and it had ceased to
represent anything but its own and the Governor's interests.
With such a legislature to support him, Sir William could bid defiance
to the restrictions upon the Governor's power to lay taxes, and the poor
"tithable polls" (all males above sixteen years of age) were called upon
to pay the expenses of any measures which were deemed proper in carrying
on the government; for the unrighteous taxes were imposed always _per
capita_--never upon property, though by act passed in 1670 only
landholders could vote.
It was by this system of poll-tax that the ample salaries of the
Burgesses were paid and also that the sundry perquisites attached to the
office of a Burgess were provided--such as the maintenance of a
manservant and two horses apiece, and fees for clerks to serve
committees, and liquors for the committees to drink their own and each
other's good health. Doubtless many stately compliments were exchanged
when the Burgesses, in an outburst of generosity, were pleased to
present the Governor and others of high degree with "great gifts," but
the grace and charm of the act were not perceptible to the eyes of the
people who, enjoying neither the gifts nor the applause of presenting
them, were taxed to pay the piper.
The "poorer sort" complained that they were "in the hardest
condition--who having nothing but their labor to maintain themselves,
wives and children, pay as deeply to the public as he that hath 20,000
acres." Their complaints were just, but not likely to find a hearing,
for the spirit of the age demanded that, in order that the wealthy
might keep up the appearance of wealth and maintain the dignity of their
position, those who had no wealth to be retained and no dignity to be
maintained must keep the wolf from the door as best they might while the
fruits of their daily toil were "engrossed" by their so-called
representatives. In the mean time, these representatives, their pockets
thus swelled, found public life too comfortable to feel any desire to
return to agricultural pursuits, or to be content with the uncertain
income afforded by the capricious crop.
But this was not the worst.
While Charles II was yet in exile, some of his courtiers who, for all
their boasted sympathy in the sorrows of their "dear sovereign," were
not unmindful of their own interests, prayed of his Majesty a grant of
the Northern Neck of Virginia, and Charles, forgetful of the loyalty of
the little colony beyond the seas which had been faithful to him through
all of his troubles, and utterly ignoring the right and title of those
then in possession of the coveted lands, yielded them their wish. After
the Restoration this grant was renewed, and in 1672 his Majesty went
further still and was pleased to grant away the whole colony, with very
few restrictions, to Lords Arlington and Culpeper. Not only were their
Lordships to be enriched by the royal quit-rents and escheats, and to
enjoy the sole right of granting lands, but through the privilege
likewise given them of appointment of sheriffs, surveyors, and other
officers, the power of executing the laws and collecting the taxes, and
of dividing the colony into counties and parishes and setting boundary
lines was to be practically in their hands.
Thus upon the fair bosom of Virginia, already torn and fretted by a host
of distresses, was it purposed that these two "Lords Proprietors" should
be let loose--their greed for gain to be held in check only by the
limitations of the colony's resources--through a dreary waste of
thirty-one years.
The colonists, foreseeing that all manner of dishonesty and corruption
in public affairs would be the certain and swift result of such large
powers, cast about for a remedy, and at length determined to send a
commission to England to raise a voice against the ruinous grant and to
bribe the hawks away from their prey. So far so good; but to meet the
expenses of the commission the poll-tax was greatly increased, so that
while the landholders were to be relieved by having their rights
restored, the "poorer sort" were made poorer than ever by being required
to pay sixty pounds of tobacco per head for that relief. This unjust tax
was a crowning point to all that the people had suffered, and a
suppressed groan, like the threatenings of a distant but surely and
steadily approaching storm, arose, not in one settlement, not in one
county, but from one end of Virginia to another, even to the remotest
borders of the colony.
While this black enough tempest was brewing about the path of the
Governor and the "grandees," another and a still darker cloud suddenly
arose in an unexpected quarter and burst with frightful fury upon the
heads of the unhappy people, the chiefest among whose "grievances" now
became their daily and hourly terror of the Indians, made worse by the
fact that their Governor was deaf to all their cries for protection.
Indeed, the savages, not the colonists, were the protected ones, for the
gain from the Indian beaver and otter fur trade, which the Governor and
his friends monopolized, was believed to be a stronger argument with Sir
William Berkeley for keeping in league with the red men than the
massacre of the King's subjects was for making war upon them. The
helpless people could only shake their heads despairingly and whisper
under their breath, "Bullets cannot pierce beaver skins."
In a "Complaint from Heaven, with a Huy and Crye and a Petition out of
Virginia and Maryland. To Owr great Gratious Kinge and souveraigne
Charles ye ii King of Engel'd etc. with his parliament," it is charged
that "Old Governr. Barkly, altered by marrying a young Wyff, from his
wonted publicq good, to a covetous Fole-age, relished Indians presents
with some that hath a like feelinge, so wel, that many Christians Blood
is Pokketed up wth other mischievs, in so mutch that his lady tould,
that it would bee the overthrow of ye Country."
The most ghastly accounts of the sly and savage incursions of the
Indians, and of the way in which they served their victims, such as
flaying them alive, knocking out their teeth with clubs and tearing out
their finger-nails and toe-nails, flew from lip to lip. The
terror-stricken planters upon the frontiers and more exposed places
deserted their homes, left the crops upon which they depended for
existence to waste and ruin, and huddled together in the more sheltered
places, still not knowing "upon whom the storm would light."
Truly was the colony under the "greatest distractions" it had known
since the frightful Indian massacre of the year 1622.
In such a state of horror and demoralization, and remembering all that
those of earlier times had suffered, no wonder the colonists did not
question whether the natives had any rights to be considered, and came
to scarcely regard them as human beings, or that the sentiment "the only
good Indian is a dead Indian" should have prevailed. Indeed, the one
chance for the divine law of the survival of the fittest to be carried
out in Virginia seemed to be in the prompt and total extermination of
the red race.
III.
THE REIGN OF TERROR.
The beginning of serious war with the Indians happened in this wise. One
Sunday morning in the summer of 1675, as some of the settlers of
Stafford County took their way peacefully to church, with no thought of
immediate danger in their minds, they were greeted, as they passed the
house of one Robert Hen, a herdsman, by the ghastly spectacle of the
bloodstained bodies of Hen himself, and an Indian, lying across Hen's
doorstep. Though scarred with the gashes of the deadly tomahawk, life
was not quite gone out of the body of the white man, and with his last
breath he gasped, "Doegs--Doegs," the name of a most hostile tribe of
Indians.
At once the alarm was given and the neighborhood was in an uproar.
Experience had taught the Virginians that such a deed as had been
committed was but a beginning of horrors and that there was no telling
who the next victim might be. Colonel Giles Brent, commander of the
horse, and Colonel George Mason, commander of the foot soldiers of
Stafford County,--both of them living about six or eight miles from the
scene of the tragedy,--with all speed gathered a force of some thirty
men and gave chase to the murderers. They followed them for twenty miles
up the Potomac River and then across into Maryland (which colony was
then at peace with the Indians), firing upon all the red men they saw
without taking time to find out whether or not they were of the
offending tribe. In Maryland, Colonels Brent and Mason divided the men
under them into two parties and continued their chase, taking different
directions. Soon each party came upon, and surrounded, an Indian cabin.
Colonel Brent shot the king of the Doegs who was in the cabin found by
him, and took his son, a boy eight years old, prisoner. The Indians
fired a few shots from within the cabin and were fired upon by the white
men without. Finally the Indians rushed from the doors and fled. The
noise of the guns aroused the Indians in the cabin--a short distance
away--surrounded by Colonel Mason's men, and they fled with Mason's men
following and firing upon them, until one of them turning back rushed up
to Mason and shaking him by both hands said, "Susquehannocks--friends!"
and turned and fled. Whereupon Colonel Mason ran among his men, crying
out,
"For the Lord's sake, shoot no more! These are our friends the
Susquehannocks!"
The Susquehannocks were an exceedingly fierce tribe of Indians but were,
just then, at peace with the English settlers.
Colonels Mason and Brent returned to Virginia, taking with them the
little son of the chief of the Doegs; but as murders continued to be
committed upon both sides of the Potomac, Maryland (which was now drawn
into the embroglio) and Virginia soon afterward raised between them a
thousand men in the hope of putting a stop to the trouble. The
Virginians were commanded by Col. John Washington (great-grandfather of
General Washington) and Col. Isaac Allerton. These troops laid siege to
a stronghold of the Susquehannocks, in Maryland. The siege lasted seven
weeks. During it the besiegers brought down upon themselves bitter
hatred by putting to death five out of six of the Susquehannocks' "great
men" who were sent out to treat of peace. They alleged, by way of
excuse, that they recognized in the "great men" some of the murderers of
their fellow-countrymen. At the end of the seven weeks, during which
fifty of the besiegers were killed, the Susquehannocks silently escaped
from their fort in the middle of the night, "knocking on the head" ten
of their sleeping foes, by way of a characteristic leave-taking, as they
passed them upon the way out. Leaving the rest to guard the cage in
blissful ignorance that the birds were flown, the Indians crossed over
into Virginia as far as the head of James River. Instead of the notched
trees that were wont to serve as landmarks in the pioneer days, these
infuriated Indians left behind them a pathway marked by gaping wounds
upon the bodies of white men, women, and children. They swore to have
still further revenge for the loss of their "great men," each of whose
lives, they said, was worth the lives of ten of the Englishmen, who were
of inferior rank, while their ambassadors were "men of quality."
Sir William Berkeley afterward rebuked the besiegers before the Grand
Assembly for their breach of faith, saying,
"If they had killed my grandfather and grandmother, my father and mother
and all of my friends, yet if they had come to treat of peace they ought
to have gone in peace."
The English held that the savages were utterly treacherous, their
treaties of peace were dishonored by themselves and were therefore
unworthy of being kept by others.
An investigation made by Governor Berkeley showed that neither of the
Virginia officers was responsible for the shabby piece of work.
However faithless the Indians may have been in most matters, they were
as good as their word touching their vengeance for the loss of their
"men of quality." About the first of the new year a party of them made a
sudden raid upon the upper plantations of the Potomac and Rappahannock
rivers, massacred thirty-six persons, and fled to the woods. News of
this disaster was quickly carried to the Governor, who for once seemed
to respond to the need of his people. He called a court and placed a
competent force to march against the Indians under command of Sir Henry
Chicheley and some other gentlemen of Rappahannock County, giving them
full power, by commission, to make peace or war. When all things had
been made ready for the party to set out, however, Governor Berkeley,
with exasperating fickleness, changed his mind, withdrew the commission,
and ordered the men to be disbanded, and so no steps were taken for the
defense of the colony against the daily and hourly dangers that lurked
in the forests, threatened the homes and haunted the steps of the
planters--robbing life in Virginia of the freedom and peace which had
been its chief charm.
The poor Virginians were not "under continual and deadly fears and
terrors of their lives" without reason. As a result of their Governor's
unpardonable tardiness in giving them protection, the number of
plantations in the neighborhood of the massacre was in about a
fortnight's brief space reduced from seventy-one to eleven. Some of the
settlers had deserted their firesides and taken refuge in the heart of
the country, and others had been destroyed by the savages.
Not until March did the Assembly meet to take steps for the safety and
defense of the colonists, three hundred of whom had by that time been
cut off, and then, under Governor Berkeley's influence, the only action
taken was the establishment of forts at the heads of the rivers and on
the frontiers, and of course heavy taxes were laid upon the people to
build and maintain them. These fortifications afforded no real defense,
as the garrisons within them were prohibited from firing upon Indians
without special permission from the Governor, and were only a new burden
upon the people. The building of the forts may have been an honest
(though unwise and insufficient) attempt at protection of the colony,
but the people would not believe it. They saw in them only expensive
"mousetraps," for whose bait they were to pay, while they were sure that
the shrewd Indians would continue their outrages without coming
dangerously near such easily avoided snares. They declared that,
scattered about as the forts were, they gave no more protection than so
many extra plantations with men in them; that their erection was "a
great grievance, juggle and cheat," and only "a design of the grandees
to engross all of the tobacco into their own hands." In their
indignation the planters vowed that rather than pay taxes to support the
forts they would plant no more tobacco.
So often had the Governor of Virginia mocked them with fair but
unfulfilled promises, so often temporized and parried words with them
while their lives were in jeopardy and the terror-stricken cries of
their wives and children were sounding "grievous and intolerable" in
their ears, that those whom he was in honor bound to protect had lost
all faith in him and all hope of obtaining any relief from him or his
Assembly. Finally, as Sir William Berkeley would not send his forces
against the murderers, the suffering planters resolved to take matters
into their own hands and to raise forces amongst themselves, only they
first humbly craved of him the sanction of his commission for any
commanders whom he should choose to lead them in defense of their "lives
and estates, which without speedy prevention, lie liable to the injury
of such insulting enemies." The petitioners assured Sir William that
they had no desire to "make any disturbance or put the country to any
charge," but with characteristic lack of sympathy he bluntly refused to
grant their request and forbade a repetition of it, "under great
penalty."
The people's fears and discontent steadily increased. It seemed more
and more evident that Governor Berkeley was protecting their murderous
enemies for his own gain, for (they charged) after having prohibited all
traffic with the Indians, he had, privately, given commission to some of
his friends to truck with them, and these favorites had supplied them
with the very arms and ammunition that were intended for the protection
of the colonists against their savagery. The red men were thus better
provided with arms than his Majesty's subjects, who had "no other
ingredients" from which to manufacture munitions of war but "prayers and
misspent intreaties, which having vented to no purpose, and finding
their condition every whit as bad, if not worse, than before the forts
were made," they resolved to cease looking to the Governor for aid and
to take the steps that seemed to them necessary for defense and
preservation of themselves and those dear to them. In other words, since
their petition for a commission to march against the Indians was denied
them, they would march without a commission, thus venturing not only
their lives, but the tyrannical old Governor's displeasure for the sake
of their firesides.
With this end in view, the dwellers in the neighborhood of Merchant's
Hope Plantation, in Charles City County, on James River, began to "beat
up drums for Volunteers to go out against the Indians, and soe continued
Sundry dayes drawing into Armes." The magistrates, either for fear or
favor, made no attempt to prevent "soe dangerous a beginning & going
on," and a commander and head seemed all that was needed to perfect the
design and lead it on to success.
Such, then, was the condition of the little colony which had struggled
and hoped and hoped and struggled again, until now hope seemed to have
withdrawn her light altogether, and a despairing struggle to be all that
was left.
IV.
ENTER, MR. BACON.
Throughout all history of all lands, at the supreme moment when any
country whatsoever has seemed to stand in suspense debating whether to
give itself over to despair or to gather its energies for one last blow
at oppression, the mysterious star of destiny has seemed to plant
itself--a fixed star--above the head of some one man who has been (it
may be) raised up for the time and the need, and who has appeared, under
that star's light, to have more of the divine in him than his brother
mortals. To him other men turn as to a savior, vowing to follow his
guidance to the death; upon his head women call down Heaven's blessings,
while in their hearts they enshrine him as something akin to a god.
Oftentimes such men fall far short of their aims, yet their failures
are like to be more glorious than common victories. The star that led
them on in life does not desert them in death--it casts a tender glow
upon their memory, and through the tears of those who would have laid
down their lives for them it takes on the softened radiance of the
martyr's crown.
Other times and other countries have had their leaders, their heroes,
their martyrs--Virginia, in 1676, had her Nathaniel Bacon.
This young man was said to be a "gentleman of no obscure family." He
was, indeed, a cousin of Nathaniel Bacon, Sr., the highly esteemed
president of the Virginia Council of State, who remained loyal to the
government during the rebellion against Sir William Berkeley's rule, and
is said to have offered to make his belligerent relative his heir if he
would remain loyal, too. The first of the family of whom anything is
known was Robert Bacon, of Drinkstone, who married Isabella Cage and had
two sons, one of whom was Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper, and father of
the great Lord Bacon; and the other James Bacon, Alderman of London,
who died in 1573. Alderman Bacon's son, Sir James Bacon, of Friston
Hall, married his cousin Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Francis
Bacon, of Hessett, and had two sons, James Bacon, Rector of Burgate
(father of President Nathaniel, of Virginia), and Nathaniel Bacon, of
Friston Hall, who married Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas De Grasse, of
Norfolk, England, and died in 1644. Nathaniel and Elizabeth Bacon were
the parents of Thomas Bacon, of Friston, who married Elizabeth, daughter
of Sir Robert Brooke, of Yexford. Nathaniel Bacon, Jr., styled "the
Rebel," was their son.
This Nathaniel Bacon was born on January 2, 1647, at Friston Hall, and
was educated at Cambridge University--entering St. Catherine's College
there in his fourteenth year and taking his A.M. degree in his
twenty-first. In the mean time he had seen "many Forraigne Parts,"
having set out with Ray, the naturalist; Skipton, and a party of
gentlemen, in April, 1663, upon "a journey made through part of the Low
Countries, Germany, Italy, France." A quaint account of all they saw,
written by Skippon, may be found in "Churchill's Voyages." In 1664 young
Bacon entered Grey's Inn. In 1674 he was married to Mistress Elizabeth
Duke, daughter of Sir Edward Duke, and in that year his history becomes
a subject of interest to Virginians, for in the autumn or winter he set
sail with his bride, in a ship bound for Jamestown, to make or mar his
fortune in a new world. The young couple soon made a home for themselves
at "Curles Neck," some twenty miles below the site afterward chosen by
Colonel William Byrd for the city of Richmond, and about forty miles
above Jamestown. This plantation afterward became famous in Virginia as
one of the seats of the Randolph family. Bacon had a second plantation,
which he called "Bacon's Quarter," within the present limits of
Richmond, but his residence was at "Curles."
The newcomer's high connections, natural talents--improved as they had
been by cultivation and travel--and magnetic personality evidently
brought him speedy distinction in Virginia, for he at once began to
take a prominent part in public affairs, was made a member of his
Majesty's Council, and soon enjoyed the reputation of being the "most
accomplished man in the colony."
Ere long, too, it became apparent that the heart of this marked man was
with the people. Encouraged by his sympathy they poured their
lamentations into his ears, and along with his pity for their helpless
and hopeless condition a mighty wrath against Governor Berkeley took
possession of his impetuous soul. "If the redskins meddle with me, damn
my blood," he cried--with what Governor Berkeley called his "usual"
oath--"but I'll harry them, commission or no commission!" Soon enough
the "redskins" did "meddle" with him, murdering his overseer, to whom he
was warmly attached, at "Bacon's Quarter," and, as will be seen, he
proved himself to be a man as good as his word.
And so it happened that upon this newcomer the whole country, ripe for
rebellion, casting about for a leading spirit to give the signal for
the uprising, set its hope and its love. In him choice had fallen upon
one who had the courage to plan and the ability to put into execution,
and who, for want of a commission from the Governor to lead a campaign
against the Indians accepted one "from the people's affections, signed
by the emergencies of affairs and the country's danger."
Though only twenty-nine years of age when he was called, of a sudden, to
take so large a part in the history of Virginia, Nathaniel Bacon looked
to be "about four or five and thirty." No friendly brush or pen has left
us a portrait of him, but the Royal Commissioners, sent over after the
Rebellion to "enquire into the affairs of the colony," give us the
impression which they gathered from all they heard of him. In their
words he was "Indifferent tall but slender, black-haired, and of an
ominous, pensive, melancholy aspect, of a pestilent and prevalent
logical discourse tending to atheism in most companies, not given to
much talk, or to make sudden replies; of a most imperious and dangerous
hidden pride of heart, despising the wisest of his neighbors for their
ignorance and very ambitious and arrogant."
Verily, a lively and interesting picture, for even an enemy to paint.
His temperament and personality were as striking as his appearance and
manner. He was nervous and full of energy; determined, self-reliant and
fearless; quick and clear of thought and prompt to act. In speaking, he
was enthusiastic and impassioned, and full of eloquence and spirit, and
if he had been born a hundred years or so later would doubtless have
been dubbed a "silver-tongued orator." He was a man born to sway the
hearts of his fellows, which he understood and drew after him with
magnetic power, and upon which he could play with the sureness of a
master of music touching the keys of a delicate musical instrument.
Such was the man toward whom in the hour of despair the hopes of the
Virginians turned--such the man who declared his willingness to "stand
in the gap" between the commonalty and the "grandees," and with true
Patrick Henry-like devotion, to risk home, fortune, life itself, in the
cause of freedom from tyranny.
One day a group of four prominent Virginia planters were talking
together and, naturally, made the "sadness of the times and the fear
they all lived in" the subject of their conversation. These gentlemen
were Captain James Crews, of "Turkey Island,"[47:A] Henrico County;
Henry Isham, Colonel William Byrd (first of the name), and Nathaniel
Bacon. They were all near neighbors, and lived in the region most
exposed and subject to the Indian horrors--Squire Bacon's overseer
having been among the latest victims. Their talk also turned upon the
little army of volunteers that was collecting in Charles City County, on
the other side of the river, to march against the Indians. Captain Crews
told them that he had suggested Bacon to lead the campaign, and the two
other gentlemen at once joined him in urging Squire Bacon to go over
and see the troops, and finally persuaded him to do so. No sooner did
the soldiers see him approaching than from every throat arose a great
shout of, "A Bacon! A Bacon! A Bacon!"
The young man's companions urged him to accept the proffered leadership
and promised to serve under him; his own ambition and enthusiasm caught
fire from the warmth of such an ardent greeting, and without more ado he
became "General Bacon, by consent of the people."
In a letter to England, describing the state of affairs in the colony,
and his connection with them, he wrote how, "Finding that the country
was basely, for a small, sordid gain, betrayed, and the lives of the
poor inhabitants wretchedly sacrificed," he "resolved to stand in this
ruinous gap" and to expose his "life and fortune to all hazards." His
quick and sympathetic response to their call "greatly cheered and
animated the populace," who saw in him the "only patron of the country
and preserver of their lives and fortunes, so that their whole hearts
and hopes were set upon him."
To a man like Nathaniel Bacon it would have been impossible to do
anything by halves. Having once for all committed himself to the
people's cause, he threw his whole heart and soul into the work before
him, and recognizing the danger of delay and the importance of letting
stroke follow stroke while the iron of enthusiasm was still aglow, he
began at once to gather his forces and to plan the Indian campaign.
The excited volunteers crowded around him and he "listed" them as fast
as they offered themselves, "upon a large paper, writing their names
circular-wise, that their ring leaders might not be found out." Having
"conjured them into this circle," he "gave them brandy to wind up the
charm," and drink success to the undertaking, and had them to take an
oath to "stick fast" to each other and to him, and then went on to New
Kent County to enlist the people thereabouts.
FOOTNOTES:
[47:A] Afterward the seat of William Randolph, first of the Randolph
family in Virginia.
V.
THE INDIAN WAR-PATH.
It was about the end of April, when the glad sight of the countryside
bursting into life and blossom and throbbing with the fair promise of
spring doubtless added buoyancy to hearts already cheered by the hope of
brighter days, that Nathaniel Bacon at the head of three hundred
men-in-arms, set out upon the Indian warpath. Sir William Berkeley, in a
rage at their daring to take steps for their own defense without a
commission from him, but powerless to put a stop to such unheard-of
proceedings, promptly proclaimed leader and followers "rebels and
mutineers," and getting a troop of soldiers together, set out toward the
falls of James River, in hot pursuit, resolved either to overtake and
capture "General" Bacon, or to seize him on his return. This proved to
be a wild-goose chase, however, for the little army of "rebels" had
already crossed to the south side of James River and was marching
"through boush, through briar," toward the haunts of the savages,
whither the Governor's train-bands had little appetite to follow.
The enraged Berkeley, finding his will thwarted, waited patiently for
the return of the doughty three hundred, taking what grim satisfaction
he could find in telling young Mistress Elizabeth Bacon that her husband
would hang as soon as he came back, in issuing, upon May 10, another
proclamation against the "young, inexperienced, rash and inconsiderate,"
general and his "rude, dissolute and tumultuous" followers, and in
deposing Bacon from his seat in the "honorable Council" and from his
office as a magistrate.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel Bacon and his men, regardless of the anxiety with
which Governor Berkeley watched for their return, were pressing on
through the wilderness. When they had marched "a great way to the
south"--had crossed into Carolina, indeed--and their supplies were
nearly spent, they came upon a little island (probably in Roanoke River)
seated by the Ockinagee Indians, one of the tribes said to have been
protected by Berkeley for sake of the fur trade, and doubtless the same
as the Mangoaks, rumors of whose great trade with the Indians of the
northwest, for copper, had been brought to Sir Walter Raleigh's colony.
These Ockinagees, who were very likely a branch of the great Dakota
family of Indians, were evidently a most enterprising people, and their
isle was a veritable center of commerce among the red-skin inhabitants
of that region. It was described as "commodious for trade, and the mart
for all the Indians for at least five hundred miles" around. Its
residents had at that time on hand no less than a thousand beaver skins
of which Sir William Berkeley and his partners would in due time,
doubtless, have become possessed, and it was supposed to have been
through trade with these Islanders that arms and ammunition were passed
on to the fierce Susquehannock braves.
When Bacon reached the island he saw at once that it would be nothing
short of madness to pit his handful of foot-sore and half-starved men
against the combined strength of the Ockinagees and the Susquehannocks,
so, adopting a policy patterned after the savages' own crafty methods of
warfare, he made friends with one tribe and persuaded them to fall upon
the other. The result was a furious battle between the two tribes in
which thirty Susquehannock warriors and all of their women and children
were killed. By this time Bacon's men were in a sorry plight for the
want of provisions. They offered to buy food from their new-made
friends, the Ockinagees, who promised them relief on the morrow, but
when the next day came put them off again with talk of still another
"morrow." In the mean time, they were evidently making preparations for
battle. They had reinforced their three forts upon the island, and were
seen to grow more and more warlike in their attitude as the pale faces
grew weaker in numbers and in physical strength. To add to the
desperate situation, there came a report that the Indians had received
private messages from Governor Berkeley.
Bacon's men had, in their eagerness to procure food, "waded shoulder
deep through the river," to one of the island forts, "still entreating
and tendering pay for the victuals," but all to no avail. While the
half-starved creatures stood in the water, with hands stretched out,
still begging for bread, one of them was struck by a shot fired from the
mainland, by an Indian. The luckless shot proved to be the signal for a
hideous battle. Bacon, knowing full well that retreat meant starvation
for himself and his devoted little band of followers, believing that the
savages within the fort had sent for others to cut them off in their
rear, but not losing the presence of mind that armed him for every
emergency, quickly drew his men close against the fort where their
enemies could get no range upon them, and ordering them to poke their
guns between the stakes of the palisades, fired without
discrimination--without mercy. All through the night and until late
into the next day the wilderness echoed with the yells of the wounded
and dying savages and with the gun-shots of the hunger-crazed palefaces.
Let us not forget that this battle was the last resort of an army which
championed the cause of the people of Virginia, and upon whose steps the
horrors of murder, torture, and starvation waited momently. Let us also
not forget that the time was the seventeenth century, the place a
wilderness, the provocation an attempt not merely to shut the
Anglo-Saxon race from the shores of the New World, but to wipe out with
hatchet and torch the Anglo-Saxon homes which were already planted
there.
When at last, after a loss of eleven of their own hardy comrades, the
exhausted Baconians withdrew from the fray, the island fort had been
entirely demolished and vast numbers of the Indians slain.
While Sir William Berkeley possessed his soul in as much patience as he
could command at the Falls of the James, lying in wait for Bacon's
return, the inhabitants farther down toward Jamestown began to "draw
into arms," and to proclaim against the useless and costly forts. Open
war with the Indians was the one thing that would content them, and war
they were bent upon having. They vowed that they would make war upon all
Indians who would not "come in with their arms" and give hostages for
their fidelity and pledge themselves to join with the English against
all others. "If we must be hanged for rebels for killing those that will
destroy us," said they, "let them hang us; we will venture that rather
than lie at the mercy of a barbarous enemy and be murdered as we are."
In a "Manifesto," defending the rights of the people, issued soon after
his return, Bacon made a scornful and spirited reply to Governor
Berkeley's charges of rebellion and treason. "If virtue be a sin," said
he, "if piety be 'gainst 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 here be, as sure 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 honor 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 endeavor to save the remainders, be treason, Lord
Almighty judge and let the guilty die." Can it be that these words were
in the mind of Patrick Henry, when, nearly a hundred years later, he
cried, "If this be treason, make the most of it"?
VI.
THE JUNE ASSEMBLY.
Governor Berkeley, finding the wrath of the people past his control,
gave up for the time the chase after Bacon, returned home, and to
appease the people, not only had the offensive forts dismantled, but
even, upon the 18th of May, dissolved the legislature that had
established them, and for the first time for fourteen years gave orders
for the election of a new free Assembly. This Assembly, whose immediate
work, the Governor declared, should be to settle the "distracted"
condition of Virginia, was "new" in more senses than one, for, departing
from the usual custom of electing only freeholders to represent them,
some of the counties chose men "that had but lately crept out of the
condition of servants," for their Burgesses. Thus showing the strong
democratic feeling that had arisen, to the exasperation of the
aristocratic Berkeley.