Claiborne did not give up so easily. With the help of Puritan rebels he seized Kent Island, captured the "Citie of St. Mary's" and drove Calvert from the colony.
But Calvert was also tenacious. He returned a year later, regained control of his Maryland possessions and forced Claiborne to give up Kent Island. Later, the English government decided, once and for all, in favor of Lord Baltimore's claim.
At this time there was much religious dissension in England and in Virginia. Lord Baltimore, a Catholic himself, had hoped to establish a colony where religious freedom could be had by all. Many Puritans left the lower Tidewater Virginia and joined the Maryland settlers.
But Lord Baltimore's plan for a harmonious mingling of all religions did not work out. The Puritans seized the reins of government and there followed years of intolerance and persecution in the "Citie of St. Mary's."
Many Protestants and Royalists in the Maryland colony decided to look for a new home where they could live as they pleased.
Across the Potomac there was a long peninsula inhabited only by Indians. What better place was there to find peace?
It was in this way that the first settlers came to the Northern Neck from north of the Potomac.
IT WAS probably about the year 1640 when the Indians of Chicacoan[5] saw a white man's boat turning from the Potomac into their inlet, Sekacawone.
The boat was of the type called a shallop, built and used by Indian traders. This one may have been of fifteen or twenty tons burden, with two masts, and square sails that were higher than they were wide. The wood may have been turpentined, or painted in a gay combination of colors, such as red, blue, green or yellow. If oars were used as well as sails they were probably painted red.
The white men on board the shallop were doubtless dressed in the manner of seamen of their day—loose breeches and jerkins of canvas, hose of coarse wool and boots of leather. They may have worn woolen stocking caps or felt hats, depending upon the season.
The owner of the vessel was an Englishman, not over thirty years of age. His clothes were probably of a finer weave and cut than those of his men. Unless he was different from other men of his time and station, he wore his natural hair long and flowing about his shoulders. He may have worn a sword at his side. This young gentleman's name was John Mottrom, formerly of Maryland, but more recently from the vicinity of the York River.
If the inhabitants of Chicacoan thought that the shallop held "trucke" to barter for their corn, they were mistaken. Far better for them had this been so.
John Mottrom was not looking for trade but for a new home, and he liked what he saw here—a wilderness peninsula, shut-away from the government at Jamestown by miles of water and forest, protected from Maryland by the Potomac, but close enough to keep in touch with his friends in the "Citie of St. Mary's."
He could see, too, that this wilderness held promises of future riches. He had done well as a merchant, trading with Maryland, around the Potomac and up the Bay at Kent Island, but now the fur trade was on the wane and tobacco was taking the place of beaver skins as currency.
Here, in this peninsula of northern Virginia, new lands could be had for the taking—fields for tobacco. This inlet of the Potomac that the Indians called Sekacawone was a sheltered harbor but deep enough for big ships to come in and take the tobacco away to foreign markets. The adjacent lands had been cleared by the natives; the forest would furnish materials for homes and boats.
There are no records to tell what kind of bargain Mottrom made with the Chicacoans for their land, but apparently the relations between the white men and the Indians were friendly. Marshvwap, King of the Chicacoan and Wicocomoco Indians, became a friend of his new neighbor, John Mottrom.
When John Mottrom came to the Indian district of Chicacoan to live, it must have been like the Garden of Eden. The river was there; the trees that were pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the beast of the field and the fowl of the air. Except for the Indian clearings along the margin of the river it was new, untouched and as it was in the beginning.
Mottrom chose a site for his house on the east bank of the Coan, and like all early Virginia settlers he knew how to select the spot. Springs were numerous in this region so that it was not necessary to dig a well.
And how did he go about building a house in this wilderness, so far from any place where skilled labor, tools and bricks, glass and nails could be obtained? No records to answer this question have been uncovered to this date. Perhaps, he brought indentured servants and a few crude tools with him in the shallop.
What kind of a house did he build? It is fairly certain that he did not build a log cabin, even for a temporary shelter.
In the seventeenth century the English settlers in Virginia built log forts, log prisons and log garrison houses but they were of "logs hewn square," and they were built in the traditional Old World manner.
These early settlers mentioned living in cottages, huts and frame cabins but, so far as is known, they never said that they lived in log cabins. The American-type log cabin is believed to have developed later and in another part of the country.
Mottrom and his men may have erected temporary shelters of saplings, boughs and bark, similar to the Indian houses.
If wood was cut from the forest for his permanent home, time was needed. Locust for sills, oak for framing, heart pine and cedar were at hand, but green lumber had to be seasoned.
Mottrom may have made several trips to Jamestown or Maryland for artisans and building supplies before his new home was completed. Meanwhile, he may have brought his family to live in one of the temporary shelters.
There are no buildings surviving in Virginia that were known to have been built before 1650, therefore, no true picture of the Mottrom home can be presented.
However, there are enough facts known of the period to enable one to reconstruct a reasonably accurate picture of the first house on the Coan.
First of all—the house had to be strong, for life itself might depend upon the house. Its style was, no doubt, patterned after the architecture of England but modified by circumstances in the New World.
A framed building, one storey and a half high, with brick underpinning, and brick chimneys at either end, was the typical dwelling of Virginia about the middle of the seventeenth century. Its size would have been about forty by twenty feet, with downstairs ceilings about nine feet high.
We can visualize those workmen at Coan "riving" out the weather boards for the first known house in the Northern Neck. One of the men would be holding a rough-squared length of timber on a "frow" horse, while another would be pounding, with a wooden mallet, a wedge-shaped knife into the wood. Presently a board would fall off. With the same tools shingles for the roof would be split from cedar.
John Mottrom may have bought English bricks from some ship bound homeward with a load of tobacco and eager to get rid of the ballast of bricks at any price. It is more likely that his bricks were burned in a kiln at Coan, made with clay dug from the riverbank.
Nails were so hard to get that settlers when they were leaving to settle elsewhere burned their homes in order to get the nails to start a new house. Mottrom probably brought some nails from his former home and supplemented them with wooden pegs.
Rarely before 1720 were "windows sasht with crystal glass." Casements were used. Glassmaking had ended at Jamestown in 1624. Mottrom's windows may have been diamond-shaped panes of oiled paper with solid wooden shutters, or merely sliding panels of wood. But it was possible to get imported glass and he may have had some glass, drawn lead and solder from England. The window openings were a structural part of the framing, not just holes cut in the sheathing. Sometimes the windows did not open, as they were mainly intended to let in light. In this case the leaded glass was permanently set in the frames in diamond-shaped panes.
Mottrom's front door may have had hinges made in the shapes of the letters H and L, to stand for Holy Lord, for it was believed then that such hinges would drive ghosts away from the door. The door may have had panels in the form of a cross to keep out the witches. Or, the door may have been made of oak battens, heavy enough to keep out wolves, Indians and "hurry-canes." In either case, it was fastened with a latch and string, with possibly an oaken bar inside for added strength.
The chimneys of Virginia houses were much larger than those in England, and the fireplaces were at least seven feet across, for the hearth was the heart of the home.
From these various facts of the time, we assume that the first house in the Northern Neck which John Mottrom named Coan Hall was strong, simple, functional, and its character was medieval.
In spite of its isolation Coan Hall was probably not a lonely place. Besides John Mottrom and his wife there were two children, and probably several indentured servants. There were at least a few domestic animals. The Indians were near, the forest was alive and rustling and "nimble" with wild beasts, the sky was darkened and animated by the various birds in their season. The shallop lay at anchor not far away and was a reminder that it was possible to reach some civilization beyond the woods and water.
And Coan Hall was hardly established before guests began to arrive. They came by boat, and perhaps after dark. These Protestant friends and refugees were from Lord Baltimore's "Citie of St. Mary's."
It was whispered in that unhappy "citie" north of the Potomac that treason was being plotted at Coan Hall.
John Mottrom's new home must have been filled to capacity in those days. Although the rooms were few we can be sure that there was no lack of beds or chairs. Rooms then, with the exception of the kitchen, had no distinct character. Beds were in every room, even in the hall where meals were taken.
On a winter's night we can imagine John Mottrom dispensing hospitality at Coan Hall—food, drink and roaring fires. Great plotting and planning must have gone on before the hearths, while the passing tankards of metheglin cheered and warmed the indignant gentlemen from Maryland.
Perhaps John Mottrom's guests were charmed with his new home and decided that it was easier just to settle at Chicacoan. At any rate we hear no more of treason. Instead, settlers begin to arrive in the Northern Neck.
William Presley and his English wife were among the first to arrive at Chicacoan. They built at the head of a creek not far from Coan Hall.
Richard Thompson and his family probably arrived early too. Richard was a young man, about twenty-seven, when he came to live at Chicacoan. He was a native of Norwich, Norfolk County, England. As a boy he had come to Virginia as an indentured servant and had served William Claiborne on Kent Island for three years.
When at twenty-one Richard became a free man, he went into business for himself, trading with the Indians for beaver. He must have been a good trader for he acquired a considerable estate. He also worked as an agent for William Claiborne, which in the end brought about his downfall. When Claiborne was proclaimed an enemy by the Maryland Council, Thompson was denounced also. He was in this way forced to flee to Chicacoan.
Before long a settlement had sprung up along the Coan. John Mottrom became the unofficial leader of this first white settlement in the Northern Neck. Although he did not know it, there was one among them who was to play an important part in his life—her name was Ursula, wife of Richard Thompson.
As soon as their homes were built the settlers at Chicacoan began to remove the forest and clear the ground for tobacco fields.
The sound of axes was no doubt heard from sunrise until sunset. Then the stumps had to be dug up, and the soil had to be broken up with hoes. This hard labor was probably done by white indentured servants.
These British servants were commercially known as "kids," probably because most of them were young, their ages ranging from thirteen to thirty as a rule.
An early English writer described the manner in which these "kids" were obtained to send to Virginia—"very many children ... were violently taken away or cheatingly duckoyed without the consent or knowledge of their Parents by ... persons ... called Spirits ... into private places or ships, and there sold to be transported, and then resold there to be servants to those that will give most for them."
A letter written in England in 1610 says that—"there are many ships going to Virginia with them 14 or 15 hundred children w'ch they have gathered up in divers places."
The shipmaster who brought the children over could sell the indentures for whatever he could get for them. If he could not find a purchaser, he could sell the children to persons known as "soul drivers" who would "buy a parcel of servants" to fill his wagon and drive through the country until he could sell them at a cash profit.
Other indentured servants were brought over by planters as "head-rights," which meant that the planter paid for their transportation and received fifty acres of land as a reward for transporting an immigrant to Virginia.
The indenture was a simple bargain between master and servant with protection by law for each. The treatment of the servant depended upon the nature of his master.
The boys who had long terms to serve became restless and often ran away across the Potomac to Maryland or to an Indian village. They were usually caught and punished and put back to work. In Virginia the punishment was sometimes thirty lashes and the letter R branded on the cheek, forehead or shoulder. The hair was sometimes cropped, and the leg shackled with irons, even during working hours. There is no evidence that the settlers of the Northern Neck did anything more severe than to whip their "kids."
Food, clothing and shelter was provided by the master. The shelter was usually in "a house set apart for him." The list of clothing might include a coat of frieze, a pair of leather breeches, a black hat, or cap of fur, a pair of "wooden heel shoes," and underclothes of dowlas and lockram.
The indentured girl servants did not work in the fields unless they were slattern and offensive. Their work was to bake and brew, clean, milk, churn, wash and sew.
Due to the scarcity of women in Virginia the girl servants usually married within the first three months. If their reputation was good, they often married into a higher station.
The settlers at Chicacoan may have had some Indian servants. Tradition says that William Presley of Coan employed Indians to care for his "roaming stock."
It was customary in Virginia to take Indian children as apprentices to learn a trade, and to learn to read and write. This was with the consent of the parents that the child should be instructed in the Christian religion.
The children were usually taken at thirteen or fourteen years of age and the apprenticeships lasted until they were twenty-one.
The value of the Indian servant was about the same as that of the English indentured servant. The relationship between the Indian boy and his master was the same as that between the master and the English servant. Food, clothing and shelter was furnished by the master. Records of the clothing lists included leather breeches, cotton waistcoats, shoes and stockings.
The indian word wampum meant "shells." Wampum and copper were the Indians' substitute for gold and silver. The early settlers also used the Indian wampum as a medium of exchange.
Wampum, in Virginia, was usually made from the oyster shell. The dark wampum, which was made from the black or purple part of the shell, had twice the value of the white. For instance, three of the dark beads or six of the white beads equalled one English penny.
The beads were cylindrical in shape about an eighth of an inch in diameter and one-fourth of an inch long. They were rubbed against stones until they were polished smooth. A hole was bored through the center of each bead with a flint instrument so that it could be strung on thread. Much of this wampum was made by tribes who manufactured and carried on commerce.
The most common wampum, made of white shell, was called rhoanoke. In old records wampum was sometimes referred to as "a chain of pearl." In a Northumberland County record there is listed among the items in the estate of "James Claughton, dec'd: Mr. Richard Thompson per order 20 arms length of Rhoanoke." Another early settler of the Northern Neck, Moore Fauntleroy, paid the Indians for his land "ten fathoms of peake" and "thirty arms length of Rhoanoke."
The English went so far as to import imitation wampum of white porcelain for sale to the Indians.
The early settlers also used beaver skins as currency. Northern Neck records about 1656 show that Colonel Nathaniel Pope offered to go security for John Washington "in beaver skins." Even hens were used for currency.
Tobacco soon became the most important currency in the colony. The words of the old song—"Where money grows on white oak trees," was almost true in Virginia for there tobacco was money and tobacco grew everywhere. Instead of gold and silver the colonial had his "tobacco note." The chief reason that metallic coin was scarce throughout the whole colonial period in Virginia was the fact that tobacco was currency.
It seems that there was always a small stock of coin in the colony, but it was either used in trade with other countries or it was hoarded by the colonists. A Virginia county record of 1700 says that: "Spanish money may not be exported out of this colony, but that it may pass currently from man to man and that all pieces of eight pass for five shillings specie."
The most convenient metallic money in Virginia (1722-1835) was a Portuguese gold coin called a johannes. A full johannes was called a "half-joe," and a double johannes was called a "joe."
As banking institutions were non-existent in the colony in the early days, and as robbers sometimes lay in wait in the woods for a lone horseman, travelers used to carry gold coins sewed under the lining of their waistcoats or quilted into their coats.
For several years the settlers at Chicacoan lived in a dream-like paradise—ungoverned and untaxed.
But this state of freedom could not last. News of the thriving young settlement in the Northern Neck was probably carried to Jamestown by the stream of travellers who plied back and forth along the waterways between that city and St. Mary's in Maryland.
How great the consternation must have been at Chicacoan when one day a boat arrived from Jamestown. There may have been soldiers on board or other representatives of the government. They brought a startling message.
The message was in the form of an Act passed by the House of Burgesses at an Assembly in 1644. It said:
"Whereas, the inhabitants of Chicawane, alias Northumberland, being members of this colony, have not hitherto contributed toward the charges of the war (with the Indians) it is now thought fit that the said inhabitants do make payment of the levy according to such rates as are by this present Assembly assessed."
The rates were "for every 100 acres of land, 15 pounds tobacco; for every cow above 3 years old, 15 pounds tobacco."
But the real shock came at the end of the message: "And in case the said inhabitants shall refuse or deny payment of the said levy, as above expressed, that upon report thereof to the next Assembly, speedy course shall be adopted to call them off the said Plantation."
The settlers were no doubt infuriated at this command. They ignored it, and continued to live in their independent way.
John Mottrom, however, must have thought it high time to look into the situation. In the fall of 1645 he sailed for Jamestown.
Although a trip to Jamestown would have been an exciting change after years of wilderness living, there is reason to believe that Mrs. Mottrom did not accompany her husband to the capital city. She probably supervised the preparation of food for the voyage, and packed his clothes.
John Mottrom's clothes were no doubt as fashionable as the English tailors could furnish. Rich fabrics and bright colors were worn by Virginia gentlemen of the seventeenth century, and they never seemed to think that their "citified" garments looked out of place in the primitive setting of the New World.
Among the clothes that Mrs. Mottrom may have packed, there might have been "a sea-green scarf edged with gold lace," a scarlet coat with silver buttons, a camlet coat with sleeves ending in lace ruffles, a pair of red slippers, a Turkey-worked waistcoat, a whole suit of olive-color plush, silk stockings, a beaver hat, neckcloths of finest holland and muslin, shoes with shining silver buckles, delicately scented handkerchiefs of silk and lace, and a gold belt for her husband's sword.
The Mottrom household was probably on the bank of the Coan to wave good-byes when the anchor was weighed and the sails of the shallop were hoisted.
Out of the Coan sailed the shallop, and into the Potomac. Out of the Potomac into the Chesapeake. Then it was straight sailing down the Bay, past the mouths of the Rappahannock and York, and finally, into the James. It usually took four average sailing days to travel from the Northern Neck to Jamestown.
As the boat neared Jamestown Island John Mottrom could doubtless see the orange-tiled roofs and tall red chimneys of the "citie," which had long ago burst from its palisades and was now stretched for half a mile along the river front, as well as backward into the swamps and meadows.
He could no doubt see the tower of the new brick church, and east of it the State House, which looked so "London-like" with its three steep gable ends facing the river.
Captain John Smith had written that the water here was deep "so neare the shoare that they moored to the trees in six fathom water," but the Mottrom boat may have tied up at Friggett Landing in the rear of the Island. There were probably other vessels already tied up there, and others still arriving for the Assembly.
Mottrom may have seen a barge coming down from the upper James, loaded with gaily dressed men and women—a Burgess or Councillor and his family and retinue, perhaps.
Once ashore John Mottrom probably took a walk to stretch his legs and see what changes had taken place since he had last visited "James Citie." He may have passed the new church, which was still unfinished, and strolled along some of the narrow lanes. Outside the town there were some "cart paths," and over some of the swamps there were bridges. Back of the Island lay the forested Indian district of the "Passbyhaes."
"New Towne" was the most thickly settled part of "James Citie." Most of the houses were a story-and-a-half of "framed timber" with steeply-pointed roofs of tile, and a few of slate. Each had its garden and was enclosed with palings. The road along the river bank was edged with mulberry trees.
The State House, situated near the river and down stream from the church, was probably the most imposing building in the town. It was really three brick houses joined together in a row to form a block, like the medieval gabled houses in London. Its windows were casements with lattices of lead and diamond-shaped panes of greenish colored glass. The place had a garden, fruit trees and vines, all enclosed by palings.
This State House was the focal point of the government and the center of social life at Jamestown. John Mottrom probably stayed there during his visit for the governor, Sir William Berkeley, who lived in the building on the western end, acted as host to all important visitors.
The Assemblies, courts and councils were held in the "middlemost" of the three houses. The Assembly would soon convene and the visitor from the Northern Neck had come a long way to be present at that meeting of November 20, 1645.
We can imagine him there on that important day, sitting with that dignified group of men, dressed in their rich bright garments, all with their hats on in imitation of the House of Commons in far away England.
Little is known of what took place in that meeting that concerned Chicacoan except that John Mottrom was accepted and recognized in this Assembly as a Burgess from the "Plantation of Northumberland." It seems that an English name was preferred instead of the Indian name for that land between the Rappahannock and the Potomac.
Mrs. Mottrom probably did not accompany her husband to Jamestown because in that same year a baby was born at Coan Hall.
What a time that must have been in the wilderness household—the little indentured English maids scurrying about with wooden pails of steaming water, perhaps, and the curtains all drawn about the great bed, and John Mottrom pacing the floor no doubt like any modern father-to-be!
Frances Mottrom, for thus she was christened, may have been the first white baby to have been born in the Northern Neck.
The neighbors doubtless came to Coan Hall for a christening for it is a matter of record that Colonel William Presley's wife was named as the child's godmother. There must have been great cheer at the manor on that occasion, and many toasts drunk from the same tankard. Maybe a whole horn of metheglin was passed around in true medieval fashion to "speed the parting guests."
Frances probably lay in a wooden cradle with high paneled sides to keep out draughts. Its logical place was near the fireplace where she would be warm. She was doubtless clothed in white linen exquisitely embroidered and made. Perhaps her six-year-old sister Anne rocked the cradle now and then as she played around the floor, and little John Mottrom may have peered into its shadows to look at her face.
Among the first sounds that Frances knew were no doubt the ringing of the axes in the forest from sunrise until sunset in winter, and at night the howling of the wolves in the forest. The first light that she remembered was probably the firelight and the light from pine-knot or candle, or daylight filtered through diamond-paned windows of greenish glass or oiled paper.
One of the first familiar faces may have been that of her father's friend, Marshvwap, King of Chickacoan.
Frances must have been a sturdy baby to have survived the cold, heat, fevers, and all the other hazards to child-life in the seventeenth century.
When Frances was old enough to toddle about, Anne and John may have played a game with her called "honey-pots," in which they carried her about in a "chair" made by crossing hands, while they chanted:
A little later they may have jumped a hop-scotch, but if so, they called it "scotch-hoppers." They probably played tag, ball, prisoner's base, asked riddles and blew soap-bubbles, as these simple amusements dated from medieval days.
Children of the seventeenth century played games but had few toys. There may have been a top to spin, and John probably played Indian with bow and arrow and club. Anne, who had been born in England, may have brought with her to the New World a stiff little puppet-like doll with a wooden face and painted hair. Frances may have had a doll made of corn-shucks, rags, corn-cobs or nuts. Or she may have had a doll like those of the Indian children, made of rawhide, feathers and wood.
The Mottrom children may have had wild animals for pets—a deer, a squirrel, or a raccoon, perhaps. The children could not venture far into the forest to play because of the dangers that lurked in its depths, but they could stand at its edge and look down the aisles between the trees, some of them "twenty feet round and Ninety high." In spring and summer the forest floor was "bespred with divers flowers" and wild strawberries. In winter they might glimpse a snowshoe rabbit flying over the snow, or a herd of deer. We can imagine them there—three little figures dressed in long clothes, exactly like those of their parents, looking into the forest and pondering upon its mysteries.
When Frances was nine years old, Colonel William Presley presented her with "one cow calfe ... she being my wife's God daughter." This was great potential wealth for a little girl! A cow over three years old was at that time worth exactly the same as one hundred acres of land. Frances probably thought of the "cow calfe" only in terms of milk and butter and future cakes that might be baked. She may have named the calf Pansy, Daisy, Cinnamon or Nutmeg, as such names were then popular for cows.
As Frances grew older there was little time for play. The Mottrom household was doubtless astir by daybreak. We can picture the sleepy child pushing aside the heavy red or green curtains of linsey-woolsey that surrounded her bed, or if it was summer, the hangings of "muskitoe" net.
Her toilet equipment was no doubt simple—a basin and ewer, and a "pot de chambre," all of pewter. She may have owned a gilded hand looking-glass and a comb of ivory or horn. She washed her face with home-made soap which may have been soft or, more likely, a hard green soap made from the berries of "sweet myrtle."
Frances' clothes were probably kept in a "case of drawers." Her everyday dress was perhaps of blue holland, but for special occasions she wore silk or brocade. In either case the skirt was full and long. Over this she wore a white linen apron with bib, and on her head a close-fitting cap of white linen. The latter was always worn by little children at that time, and sometimes the cap was beautifully embroidered. When Frances went out-of-doors she probably wore a loose silken hood over the cap.
Her hair, if she was fashionable, was cut in bangs across her forehead with long flowing locks in front dropping forward on her chest. Her back hair was stuffed out of sight in the cap.
After she had dressed Frances probably ate a simple breakfast of porridge from a wooden bowl with a pewter spoon. Anne and John probably ate their breakfasts from the same bowl with their pewter spoons.
Lessons may have come next. Education was simple then, especially for girls—"bookes to bee learned of children" were "abcies" and primers, then the Psalms in metre, then the Testament. Frances' teacher may have been her mother or an indentured servant.
Little girls were taught to knit as soon as they could hold the needles. Frances probably knitted stockings and mittens when she was four or five years old. Children also made quilt-pieces. Girls did household chores and learned early the duties of a housewife.
Anne was old enough now to embroider the family coat-of-arms, or to paint it on glass in rich colors. Young girls in the families of seventeenth century gentlefolk spent much time in the study of heraldry.
Frances may have been taught to play a musical instrument—the hand lyre, hautboy or virginal. The latter was most commonly used by young girls, from which its name was derived. It was a small rectangular spinet without legs.
John may have played the flute. We can imagine him earnestly playing for guests at Coan Hall, dressed in his best, which probably would have been a dark suit with a white square collar, the pants ending in light-colored ruffles that fell over his boottops. From under his wide-brimmed hat, which he would wear indoors on such occasions, his hair probably fell to his shoulders, with bangs on his forehead.
It is safe in assuming that the Mottrom children looked forward to guests for they doubtless liked to listen to the talk around the fireplace. Here the men discussed taxes, the colonial government, the English King and his followers who were called Cavaliers. They talked of witchcraft, ghosts, wolves, Indians and the Assembly at "James Citie."
Did all this talk make little Frances long to visit Jamestown and see the fine ladies who came from their plantations with their husbands at the time of the Assemblies? If so, her dream was one day to come true. She would not only visit Jamestown and see the ladies in their silks and satins but she would be one of them. For Frances Mottrom was destined to leave her wilderness home some day and become the first lady not only of Jamestown, but of the whole Colony of Virginia.
Although John Mottrom was recognized at Jamestown in the Assembly of November 20, 1645 as a Burgess from the "Plantation of Northumberland," Chicacoan was not established as a county and the order concerning taxes was not changed. The settlers continued to ignore the order and went on living as usual in their independent way.
In 1647, the Assembly passed another act for the "reducing of the inhabitants of Chicacoan and the other parts of the Neck of Land between the Rappahannock and the Potomack River."
This must have been an unhappy and unsettled time at Chicacoan, but in some way a compromise was reached the following year. In 1648, the Assembly repealed the act for "reducing the inhabitants of Chicacoan," and enacted instead that "the said tract of land be hereafter called and knowne by the name of the Countie of Northumberland and from henceforth they have power of electing Burgesses for the said county."
The settlers of the Northern Neck had now gained representation in the colonial government but the price they were forced to pay for it was dear—their tax-free paradise was forever lost.
John Mottrom's wife may ever remain a mystery. There seems to be no clue to her personality, no facts that would make her into a flesh and blood woman. Even her name is unknown. She was John Mottrom's wife and the mother of his three children, Anne, John and Frances. The records disclose not even a crumb more.
Between the years 1645 and 1655 Mrs. Mottrom passed away. She may have died in childbirth when Frances was born, or shortly thereafter. It was after her death that Ursula came into the life of John Mottrom.
Ursula Bish Thompson had been among the refugees who fled to Coan from the "Citie of St. Mary's." Her husband, Richard Thompson, was now dead. A young widow's position in a frontier community was dangerous and insecure and quick remarriages were a practical necessity. John Mottrom, the widower, was in urgent need of someone to look after his children and home. Ursula and John were married.
Ursula probably brought the Thompson children with her to live at Coan Hall. Colonial households more often than not included several groups of children by former marriages.
Ursula's name reveals the fact that she was British, named perhaps for the martyred princess, St. Ursula. The facts of her later career assure us that she was a healthy and attractive woman.
As the wife of a prominent man of the colony it was Ursula's duty to hold to the high standard of living that had been transferred from England to this wilderness, and to maintain this standard it was necessary for all to work from morning until night.
Ursula doubtless loved the gay rich clothes that were so fashionable at this period. Her wardrobe may have included a pair of scarlet sleeves, a petticoat of flowered tabby and several pairs of green stockings.
We can imagine Ursula hustling about at Coan Hall, her clothes a blur of brightness, as she supervised the servants, disciplined the children, twirled the roast of venison on the spit in passing, or lowered her candle or betty-lamp into the cooking pot to see if the stew was ready.
The rooms of Coan Hall were probably part "waynscot" and part "daubed and whitelimed," the latter plaster being made from the plentiful oyster shells. The woodwork may have been painted "deep blued olive green" or "dragon's blood."
The rooms of seventeenth century houses were usually identified by names, such as "the outward," "the lodging," "the chamber," and so on.
The kitchen and pantry were probably detached or in a wing. This was the busiest and coziest spot in all early homes, and the hearth was its glowing heart. There were the fire-dogs holding the big logs and the little andirons used with them called "creepers." On pothooks and trammels hung the brass and copper kettles, some with a fifteen gallon capacity, and that most beloved pot of iron, which sometimes weighed as much as forty pounds. In summer when a large part of the cooking was done out-of-doors this iron kettle was the main utensil used.
A boiler of copper and brass may have been imbedded in brick and mortar and heated from beneath for the purpose of brewing the ale that was so necessary to a transplanted Englishman.
When the chimney was built there was usually a brick oven on one side. This oven was as a rule heated once a week. Convenient to the oven was a long-handled shovel called a peel, which was used for placing the dough in the oven, or for tossing it on cabbage or oak leaves which were often used instead of pans.
The simplest way of roasting a fowl or joint of meat was to suspend it in front of the fire by a hempen string.
The laundry was allowed to accumulate into great monthly washings. This seems to have been the custom for a hundred years after the colony was first settled. Soft soap was made by the barrel from refuse grease and wood ashes. This soap was used for the laundry but a toilet soap was made from the bayberry, or "sweet myrtle," as it was called in Virginia. Candles were also made from the myrtle berries, and from tallow. The myrtle berry candles were prettier and more fragrant.
The brick-floored milkhouse at these early plantations was a separate building. Besides the milk pails, bowls, skimmers and churn, this house was a storage place for pewter that needed repairing, powdering tubs for salting meat, rum casks, spinning-wheels, chamber pots, fish kettles, stillyards, hides, tanned leather and so on.
Brooms were made at home, and turkey wings were saved for brushing the hearth.
Perhaps another duty of Ursula and her indentured maids was the picking of the tame geese. Their feathers were more valuable to the colonists than their meat. Goose feathers were prized for beds and pillows, which were handed down as heirlooms. The feathers were stripped from the live geese three or four times a year, but the quills, which were used for pens, were never pulled but once. Ursula probably dreaded goose-picking because it was a hard and cruel work. Feathers from wildfowl were also carefully saved for beds and pillows.
Probably the last chore on a winter's night was the warming of the beds. The brass or copper warming pan with its long handle hung by the fireplace where it reflected the firelight. At bedtime, which was early, the pan was filled with hot coals and thrust within the beds and moved rapidly back and forth so as to warm the bed but not burn the linen. Sometimes a large chafing-dish was used in the bed-chambers for "knocking the chill off" the ice-cold room.
And so at last, after the last chore had been attended to, Ursula could crawl between the warm sheets, pull up her quilt, or leather coverlet, and fall into a well-earned sleep.
The surroundings of a seventeenth century planter's house, such as Coan Hall, were simple, lacking in ornament of any kind.
Near the back door was a garden in which vegetables and a few simple flowers grew side by side. Real flower gardens were not developed until the next century.
Some flax and hemp were probably included in the garden at Coan. And herbs, such as thyme, rosemary and marjoram were considered almost a necessity at that time.
There was usually an orchard, containing a few apple, pear, cherry and peach trees.
There may have been a dovecote at Coan Hall. There must certainly have been a tall pole in the yard with a bee-martin's house on top, for these birds notified the settler and his household of the approach of hawks and other enemies of the poultry. They were the watch-dogs of the yard. There may have been a few birdhouses made Indian fashion of gourds.
The planter's dwelling, even though it was little and plain, sometimes no larger than 24 × 24, was referred to as the "manor house," "great house" or "mansion," in order to distinguish it from its dependencies, the kitchen, milkhouse, smokehouse, henhouse, stable, barn and cabins for servants.
According to an early order by the Assembly, all dwelling houses throughout the Colony of Virginia must be palisaded. This order was still in effect when Coan Hall was built, but as the Indians were friendly in this region and there was no one at Chicacoan to enforce the law, the yard may have been surrounded by a stout fence of locust instead, or by palings to keep out hogs and cattle which wandered without restraint.
Needless to say, a bubbling spring was somewhere close by the dwelling, and perhaps a gourd dipper.
Pocahontas was not the only Indian girl of royal blood who once lived in the Northern Neck. Kittamaqund, too, lived for awhile, died and, it is believed, was buried in the land between the Rappahannock and the Potomac.
Kittamaqund was the only child of the Tayac, or Emperor, of the Piscataway Indians. Their village was located on Piscataway Creek on the Maryland side of the Potomac. At this point the Potomac, which separated the Province of Maryland from the Colony of Virginia, was less than a mile wide.
In the winter of 1640 Father Andrew White, a Catholic missionary, came to "Piscatoe" to baptize the Indians. Among those whom Father White baptized were the Emperor and his wife.
Shortly after the missionary's visit, the Emperor brought his seven-year-old daughter, Kittamaqund, to St. Mary's "Citie," Maryland, and put her in the care of Father White. He loved his daughter very dearly and he wanted her to be educated and "when she shall well understand the Christian mysteries, to be washed in the sacred font of baptism."
The "little Empress," as she was called by the settlers, was adopted by Mistress Margaret Brent of St. Mary's. By 1642 Kittamaqund had become "proficient in the English language" and she was baptized by Father White at that time and given the Christian name Mary.
Before long romance took a hand in the situation. Mistress Margaret had a brother, Giles Brent, who had left England with her on the ship Elizabeth in 1638, and they had arrived together at St. Mary's. Giles had been born in Gloucestershire, England, about 1600.
Giles and the little Indian "Empress" were married when she was about twelve years old. Giles had a home on Kent Island where they lived for part of the year and the rest of the year they stayed with Margaret at her home "in St. Maries, where he had certain goods etc."—"divers cattle and other commodities ... linen, shoes, stockings, sugar ... and also a little cabbonett containing Jewels etc."
About 1646 Giles took his Indian bride and crossed the Potomac to the Northern Neck of Virginia. He settled on the north shore of Aquia Creek and there built a house which he called Peace. This name seems to indicate that he may have had troubles, probably religious persecution, in Maryland. He had also failed in his attempt to claim Kittamaqund's royal domain, which was most of Maryland.
The home of Giles and Kittamaqund in the Northern Neck was in the midst of the wilderness. They were the northernmost English residents in Virginia. When in 1651 settlers pushed northward to patent land above the Brent home they all stopped at Peace for refreshments and information. It was the point of departure into the unknown.
Giles built another home in the same region which he called Retirement. Their second son, Giles, was born there.
Giles traded with the Indians and continued to keep open house for the settlers from the southern region. He also patented thousands of acres of land in Westmoreland and Northumberland.
Kittamaqund, the little wilderness flower, wilted and died before she scarcely had time to blossom. She left three children, Richard, Giles and Mary. Before she died Kittamaqund made a deed of gift to her daughter of her inheritance in Maryland, since she herself had no brother or sister to inherit it.
Giles again laid claim to most of Maryland in his daughter's name, but the Indians opposed the claim as being contrary to their tribal customs. They chose a king of their own instead.
Thus Kittamaqund lost her royal heritage. According to traditions she was buried somewhere in the upper Northern Neck.
Giles Brent became a great landowner in his own right. He was largely responsible for opening up the northern part of the "Chicakoun country" to the white settlers. His homes at Peace and later at Retirement were outposts of civilization.
While the settlers of the Northern Neck of Virginia were hacking away at the forest, planting crops in the land thus cleared and building houses of the felled timber, events were taking place across the sea that would eventually change the history and culture of the land between the Rappahannock and the Potomac.
For some time a civil war had been in progress in England and early in the year of 1649 Charles I was beheaded by Oliver Cromwell's men. A new government, known as the Commonwealth, was immediately established in England, under the direction of Cromwell.
The late king's oldest son, Charles, had escaped from England and was now living in exile in France. His misfortune was shared there by some of his father's supporters, who now had plenty of time to brood over their lost estates back in England. These gentlemen with the flowing hair had little left except the clothes on their backs, plumed hats and buckled boots. Some of them were walking the streets of Paris in search of cheap board and lodging, for which they would pay with their jewels—pawned or sold. Some had already gotten into the clutches of money-lenders. Their only hope was that Charles would be restored some day to the throne of England.
Charles wished that he could in some way repay these noblemen, soldiers, diplomats and favorites of his parents who had proved their loyalty. But what, he may have wondered, did he have to give? Apparently nothing remained. Then he thought of land—other land to replace the estates his followers had lost. This was not a new idea of his own for the English government had at times awarded frontier lands to deserving soldiers.
But where could lands-to-give-away be found? It was then that Charles remembered the colony across the sea—Virginia. That was the answer—a slice of the Virginia wilderness as a grant to his courtiers!
Charles apparently knew little about Virginia, or about the size of the slice which he selected as a gift to his friends—"all that entire Tract, Territory, or porcon of Land situate, lying and beeing in America, and bounded by and within the heads of the Rivers of Rappahannock and Patawomecke," and "said Rivers."
A patent was written, dated September 18, 1649, at St. Germaine-en-Laye, France. It was written in close fine writing on both sides of a small piece of parchment and bore "Our Great Seale of England." Charles signed it simply in the upper left-hand corner of the front page "Charles R." Thus the deed was done.
True, the grant was worthless unless Charles was restored to the throne of England, which event seemed improbable at the moment. However, he had paid off his obligations as best he could. The courtiers may have appreciated his gesture but some of them placed no value on their part of the patent.
Meanwhile, back in Virginia the colonists went on as usual for news was slow in crossing the ocean. The pioneers of the Northern Neck had their own problems—fevers and bloody flux, Indians, wolves, witches, and taxes to be paid to the Colonial Government at Jamestown. It would be a long time before they would know that their land had been given away lock, stock and barrel, for Charles had given his followers not only the land and the rivers, but all rights pertaining to them, even to the "wild beasts and fowle," the fish and the "wrecks of the Sea."
And should the grant ever become valid, future generations in the Northern Neck would have landlords over them and pay rent for the land that their forefathers had believed to be their own.
A man stood on the deck of the Virginia Merchant, a leaky English vessel bound for Jamestown. He had once been a fine gentleman, clothed in satin and velvet and gold lace. His beard had been trimmed to a peak, with small upturned mustaches, and his shoulder length hair had been curled and perfumed. "Love-locks" his curls were called.
Now the velvet was stained and the lace tarnished and his silver buckles looked more like pewter. The plumes on his hat dangled against his salt-matted hair. The ship was loaded with men just like him. In England they were called Cavaliers because they had been loyal followers of the King. A writer of that time described these Cavaliers as "of the best material in England"—the nobility, the clergy, the landed gentry and officers in the King's army.
Tradition says that there were three hundred and thirty Cavaliers on board the Virginia Merchant. This number included the wives and children, and probably the ship's company.
The voyage had been a nightmare. Rats lived in the dark cabins with the people, and when the cabin doors were opened a stench rushed out. Some lay ill from the ship's diet of "pease-porridge" and salt beef. Worms wriggled in the cheese and hard bread that was called ship's biscuits. And there was not even enough of this food to last the trip.
Desperation had driven these people to make this voyage, and they were lucky to have the six pounds to pay their passage. Their England was no longer good for them. It was a place to "fly from ... as from a place infected with the plague." Some of their comrades were now rotting in English prisons, their estates confiscated and sold to members of Cromwell's party.
Virginia seemed to be the only "city of refuge" left in his Majesty's dominions. When the Virginia Merchant at last arrived at Jamestown the Cavaliers were received with open arms by the colonists, whose sympathy was predominantly with the royalist cause. Still other Cavaliers reached Virginia from time to time during Cromwell's reign in England.
The Virginia Merchant had sailed from the Old World about the middle of September 1649. This was almost exactly the same time that the exile in France was affixing his signature to a bit of parchment. Both incidents were destined to change the pattern of life in the Northern Neck of Virginia.
A number of the Cavaliers settled in the Neck, bringing with them into the wilderness the grace and manners of the English Court and the way of life of the English country gentleman.
In the spring of 1650 a small Dutch vessel, according to one tradition, was bucking her way across the Atlantic. On board was a young man named Richard Lee. Richard had arranged this trip and "freighted" the vessel himself, it was said, and he was now on his way to visit England's royal exile who was at this time living in Brussels.
In Richard's pocket, the story goes, was Sir William "Barcklaie's" commission for the government of Virginia, which hadn't been worth a shilling since the execution of England's late King. But Sir William and Richard, who was his Secretary of State, were determined to hold the colony firm in its allegiance to "Charlie-Over-The-Water."
Richard arrived safely in Breda and made himself known to Charles. Thereafter, it is said, a little comedy ensued which we can imagine.
The gentleman from Virginia, dressed in his finest trappings, kneels before the exiled prince and surrenders the Governor's commission. He then in flowery words extends a warm invitation to Charles to return with him to the New World and become "King of Virginia."
Charles is pleased, but he has other plans. Bigger plans. He thanks Richard and graciously presents him with a new commission for Governor Berkeley, which isn't worth the paper on which it is written.
After this little farce was attended to, Richard Lee, tradition says, returned to Jamestown to deliver the commission to Governor Berkeley. Richard was probably disappointed with the unsatisfactory outcome of his mission.
How different the history of the New World would have been if Richard Lee had brought Charles back with him to be crowned "King of Virginia!"
It was a place especially dear to the Indians. They were still in the region when Richard Lee built his simple home in the wilderness.
He chose for his home site a neck of land in the southeastern part of Northumberland County. A creek flowed in here from the Chesapeake and divided into two parts. The neck was between these two branches of the creek. Richard called the estuary, Dividing Creek, and he named his home, Cobbs Hall.
It was wild and beautiful at Dividing Creek. The primeval forest with its savages and "beastes" was so close, and out in front the Creek led directly into the Bay—a highway to any place in the world. The Creek was deep so that foreign ships could come right up to his wharf and take away the loads of tobacco that this fertile soil would grow.
Richard knew that in this New World land was wealth, so he began to acquire land by purchase of head-rights. He acquired land along the Potomac from its mouth to the site that later became Washington. He had laid the foundation for the future Lees of Virginia.
Richard Lee represented Northumberland in the House of Burgesses at Jamestown in 1651, which establishes the fact that he was living in the Northern Neck at that early date. He was also a justice, a member of the King's Council and Secretary of the Colony.
Richard had business interests abroad and he lived there part of the time. He owned partnerships in several ships, he was a tobacco merchant in London with his own warehouse and counting-house. He crossed and re-crossed the Atlantic almost as often as a modern American tycoon.
A London merchant at that time held a high social rating. In England he owned a country estate three miles from London. Whether Richard had inherited the estate or purchased it himself is not known. This was the property that caused him to sign his will, "lately of Stratford-Langton in the County of Essex, Esquire." The "Esquire" signified that he was the proprietor of land with tenants of his own.
Each morning Richard's coach appeared at his door and he emerged "silver-buckled and knee-breeched" and rumbled away along the road called "Strat-by-ford" toward London and his counting-house. And back again each evening, just like a modern American business man shuttling between his city office and his suburban home. But Richard finally sold his home and furnishings in England and returned to his home at Dividing Creek.
Richard Lee was the largest landowner in Virginia at the time of his death in 1664. He left his family firmly established with probably more than thirteen thousand acres of virgin tobacco land. He left his son, Hancock, land near Cobbs Hall. This son established his home there, called Ditchley.
Richard Lee stated in his will that he desired his family to live in Virginia. Perhaps after all that was his greatest legacy to his family. It turned out to be an important legacy not only to the Northern Neck, but to the American nation.
Perhaps one of the strangest deeds on record is the one signed by Accopatough, King of the Rappahannock Indians.
An Englishman named Moore Fauntleroy came to the Northern Neck about 1650, settling on the Rappahannock, rather far up from its mouth. He must have been very exact in his business dealings, because when he purchased a tract of land from the Indians it was conveyed to him by a written deed, dated April 4, 1651, and signed by:
"Accopatough, the true and right Born King of the Indians of Rappahannoc Town and Towns."
For the land, it is said, Fauntleroy paid the Indians "ten fathoms of peake and thirty arms lengths of Rhoanoke." The tract is said to have been a vast domain which extended from the Rappahannock to the Potomac and some distance along both rivers.
Later, after the Northern Neck became a proprietary, Moore Fauntleroy had his Indian deed confirmed at Jamestown:
"Act I, the grande assemblie at James Cittie, Va., the 23rd March, 1660-1; Sir William Berkeley, his Majesties Governor, 13th year of Charles II."
Fauntleroy's "ancient mansion seat" was located on the Rappahannock, above Cat Point Creek, and it was known as Naylor's Hole. This section of the Neck was established as Richmond County in 1692.
Colonel Moore Fauntleroy was said to have been the great-great grandson of Edward Lord Stourton. He came to the Northern Neck during the Cavalier migration.
After the county of Northumberland was created from Chicacoan, John Mottrom had many extra duties. As a justice he held court at Coan Hall. A unit of militia had been formed and he had been named by Governor Berkeley as its chief officer—it was Colonel Mottrom, now!
On the river just above Coan Hall Colonel Mottrom had started the nucleus of what he hoped would be a future town. He had built there the first wharf and the first warehouse in the Northern Neck. He had plans for a "Brew-house" where "ye good ale of England" might be had.
His activities were interrupted in the spring of 1652 by a summons from the Governor to appear at a meeting of the House of Burgesses.
The grapevine said that danger threatened the colony. It said that Cromwell's government had sent "a powerful fleet" from England with "a considerable body of land forces on board" and that the vessels had already arrived and had cast anchor before Jamestown. It said that the Governor himself was saying that the strangers were pirates and robbers who had come to steal the lands of the colonists.
Colonel Mottrom may have had two other burgesses to keep him company on this trip—George Fletcher from Northumberland, and Francis Willis from the newly organized county of Lancaster.
When Colonel Mottrom arrived within sight of the Island, he could probably see that the royal standard was still flying above the town, even though the English warship Guinea and her armed fleet of merchantmen had weighed anchor and were moving in closer.
All was astir at Jamestown, especially in the State House. The "middlemost" of the "stack" of brick buildings was like a busy hive, with burgesses pouring in and out, and conversing in agitated groups, while they warmed themselves before the fireplaces in the two rooms.
Governor Berkeley was very much disturbed. Ever loyal to the Crown, he had boasted that Cromwell's forces would not risk an attack on the colony. But to be on the safe side, Sir William had, during the fall and winter, reinforced his defenses. The militia, which he had called up, was strengthened by the veteran Cavaliers from the King's army who had so recently come to the colony. He had the promise of help from five hundred Indian braves, and several armed Dutch ships which were lying in the river were pressed into service.
In spite of these plans for defensive measures the House of Burgesses showed no enthusiasm for going into active warfare. They reasoned that the loyalty of the Indian allies might be uncertain, and the presence of the enemy fleet in the James was but a reminder of England's sea power. The Governor was finally persuaded to disband his small army.
An agreement was signed on March 12, 1652, between the commissioners from the Commonwealth of England and the "Governor and counsel for a cessation of Arms."
This was probably the most stirring event ever associated with the first State House at Jamestown.
The agreement was favorable to Virginia, even though the colony was subdued. Most of the essential liberties of the colonials were retained. One of Cromwell's commissioners, Richard Bennett, was chosen as Governor by the Assembly.
Sir William had refused to serve under the Commonwealth. He retired to his estate, Green Spring, near Jamestown, where he could entertain Cavalier guests and drink toasts to King Charles as much as he pleased.
When Colonel Mottrom and the other burgesses from the Northern Neck returned home from Jamestown after the treaty with Cromwell's commissioners had been made, they brought news that every "white male" in the colony would be required to take an oath of loyalty to this new government in England. If any should refuse to do so they would have to move away within a year.
As the news traveled into the creeks and coves to the homes of the planters on the fringes of the wilderness, we can visualize the reluctant men of Northumberland straggling along to "Cone"—in shallops, sloops, barges, canoes, and perhaps a few on horseback. A disgruntled lot no doubt.
But "within the year" of 1652, one hundred "white males" had signed a statement at Coan which said that they would be "true and faithful to the Commonwealth of England as it is established without King or House of Lords."
Under the treaty the people might toast the late King in private as much as they liked, but no public stand against the Commonwealth would be tolerated.