A popular history of the United States of America, Vol. 1 (of 2)

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.

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.