Such men were the Cavaliers of Virginia and the Puritans of New England.

There can be little doubt that these Cavaliers were the men who made the greatness of Virginia. To them it is due that her history represents ideas and enshrines events which mankind will always find interesting. It is apt to be the case that men who leave their country for reasons connected with conscience and principle, men who have once consecrated themselves to a cause, are picked men for ability and character. Such men are likely to exert upon any community which they may enter an influence immeasurably greater than an equal number of men taken at random. It matters little what side they may have espoused. Very few of the causes for which brave men have fought one another have been wholly right or wholly wrong. Our politics may be those of Samuel Adams, but we must admit that the Thomas Hutchinson type of mind and character is one which society could ill afford to lose. Of the gallant Cavaliers who drew the sword for King Charles, there were many who no more approved of his crooked methods and despotic aims than Hutchinson approved of the Stamp Act. No better illustration could be found than Lord Falkland, some of whose kinsmen emigrated to Virginia and played a conspicuous part there. A proper combination of circumstances was all that was required to bring the children of these royalists into active political alliance with the children of the Cromwellians.

Both in Virginia and in New England, then, the principal element of the migration consisted of picked men and women of the same station in life, and differing only in their views of civil and ecclesiastical polity. The differences that grew up between the relatively aristocratic type of society in Virginia and the relatively democratic type in New England were due not at all to differences in the social quality of the settlers, but in some degree to their differences in church politics, and in a far greater degree to the different economic circumstances of Virginia and New England. It is worth our while to point out some of these contrasts and to indicate their effect upon the local government, the nature of which, perhaps more than anything else, determines the character of the community as aristocratic or democratic.

That extreme Puritan theory of ecclesiastical polity, according to which each congregation was to be a little self-governing republic, had much to do with the way in which New England was colonized. The settlers came in congregations, led by their favourite ministers,—such men, for example, as Higginson and Cotton, Hooker and Davenport. When such men, famous in England for their bold preaching and imperilled thereby, decided to move to America, a considerable number of their parishioners would decide to accompany them, and similarly minded members of neighbouring churches would leave their own pastor and join in the migration. Such a group of people, arriving on the coast of Massachusetts, would naturally select some convenient locality, where they might build their houses near together and all go to the same church.

This migration, therefore, was a movement, not of individuals or of separate families, but of church-congregations, and it continued to be so as the settlers made their way inland and westward. The first river towns of Connecticut were thus founded by congregations coming from Dorchester, Cambridge, and Watertown. This kind of settlement was favoured by the government of Massachusetts, which made grants of land, not to individuals but to companies of people who wished to live together and attend the same church.

It was also favoured by economic circumstances. The soil of New England was not favourable to the cultivation of great quantities of staple articles, such as rice or tobacco, so that there was nothing to tempt people to undertake extensive plantations. Most of the people lived on small farms, each family raising but little more than enough food for its own support; and the small size of the farms made it possible to have a good many in a compact neighbourhood. It appeared also that towns could be more easily defended against the Indians than scattered plantations; and this doubtless helped to keep people together, although if there had been any strong inducement for solitary pioneers to plunge into the great woods, as in later years so often happened at the West, it is not likely that any dread of the savages would have hindered them.

Thus the early settlers of New England came to live in townships. A township would consist of about as many farms as could be disposed within convenient distance from the meeting-house, where all the inhabitants, young and old, gathered every Sunday, coming on horseback or afoot. The meeting-house was thus centrally situated, and near it was the town pasture or “common,” with the school-house and the blockhouse, or rude fortress for defence against the Indians. For the latter building some commanding position was apt to be selected, and hence we so often find the old village streets of New England running along elevated ridges or climbing over beetling hilltops. Around the meeting-house and common the dwellings gradually clustered into a village, and after a while the tavern, store, and town-house made their appearance.

Among the people who thus tilled the farms and built up the villages of New England, the differences in what we should call social position, though noticeable, were not extreme. While in England some had been esquires or country magistrates, or “lords of the manor,”—a phrase which does not mean a member of the peerage, but a landed proprietor with dependent tenants,—some had been yeomen, or persons holding farms by some free kind of tenure; some had been artisans or tradesmen in cities. All had for many generations been more or less accustomed to self-government and to public meetings for discussing local affairs. That self-government, especially as far as church matters were concerned, they were stoutly bent upon maintaining and extending. Indeed, that was what they had crossed the ocean for. Under these circumstances they developed a kind of government which has remained practically unchanged down to the present day. In the town meeting the government is the entire adult male population. Its merits, from a genuine democratic point of view, have long been recognized, but in these days of rampant political quackery they are worth recalling to mind, even at the cost of a brief digression.

Within its proper sphere, government by town meeting is the form of government most effectively under watch and control. Everything is done in the full daylight of publicity. The specific objects for which public money is to be appropriated are discussed in the presence of everybody, and any one who disapproves of any of these objects, or of the way in which it is proposed to obtain it, has an opportunity to declare his opinions. Under this form of government people are not so liable to bewildering delusions as under other forms. I refer especially to the delusion that “the Government” is a sort of mysterious power, possessed of a magic inexhaustible fund of wealth, and able to do all manner of things for the benefit of “the People.” Some such notion as this, more often implied than expressed, is very common, and it is inexpressibly dear to demagogues. It is the prolific root from which springs that luxuriant crop of humbug upon which political tricksters thrive as pigs fatten upon corn. In point of fact no such government, armed with a magic fund of its own, has ever existed upon the earth. No government has ever yet used any money for public purposes which it did not first take from its own people,—unless when it may have plundered it from some other people in victorious warfare.

The inhabitant of a New England town is perpetually reminded that “the Government” is “the People.” Although he may think loosely about the government of his state or the still more remote government at Washington, he is kept pretty close to the facts where local affairs are concerned, and in this there is a political training of no small value.

In the kind of discussion which it provokes, in the necessity of facing argument with argument and of keeping one’s temper under control, the town meeting is the best political training school in existence. Its educational value is far higher than that of the newspaper, which, in spite of its many merits as a diffuser of information, is very apt to do its best to bemuddle and sophisticate plain facts. The period when town meetings were most important from the wide scope of their transactions was the period of earnest and sometimes stormy discussion that ushered in our Revolutionary War. In those days great principles of government were discussed with a wealth of knowledge and stated with masterly skill in town meeting.

In Virginia the economic circumstances were very different from those of New England, and the effects were seen in a different kind of local institutions. In New England the system of small holdings facilitated the change from primogeniture to the Kentish custom of gavelkind, with which many of the settlers were already familiar, in which the property of an intestate is equally divided among the children.24 In Virginia, on the other hand, the large estates, cultivated by servile labour, were kept together by the combined customs of primogeniture and entail, which lasted until they were overthrown by Thomas Jefferson in 1776. In this circumstance, more than in anything else, originated the more aristocratic features in the local institutions of Virginia. To this should be added the facts that before the eighteenth century there was a large servile class of whites, to which there was nothing even remotely analogous in New England; and that the introduction of negro slavery, which was beginning to assume noticeable dimensions about 1670, served to affix a stigma upon manual labour.

In view of this group of circumstances we need not wonder that in Old Virginia there were no town meetings. The distances between plantations coöperated with the distinction between classes to prevent the growth of such an institution. The English parish, with its churchwardens and vestry and clerk, was reproduced in Virginia under the same name, but with some noteworthy peculiarities. If the whole body of ratepayers had assembled in vestry meeting, to enact by-laws and assess taxes, the course of development would have been like that of the New England town meeting. But instead of this the vestry, which exercised the chief authority in the parish, was composed of twelve chosen men. This was not government by a primary assembly, it was representative government. At first the twelve vestrymen were elected by the people of the parish, and thus resembled the selectmen of New England; but in 1662 “they obtained the power of filling vacancies in their own number,” so that they became what is called a “close corporation,” and the people had nothing to do with choosing them. Strictly speaking, that was not representative government; it was a step on the road that leads towards oligarchical or despotic government. It was, as we shall see, one of the steps ineffectually opposed in Bacon’s rebellion.

It was the vestry, thus constituted, that apportioned the parish taxes, appointed the churchwardens, presented the minister for induction into office, and acted as overseers of the poor. The minister presided in all vestry meetings. His salary was paid in tobacco, and in 1696 it was fixed by law at 16,000 pounds of tobacco yearly. In many parishes the churchwardens were the collectors of the parish taxes. The other officers, such as the sexton and the parish clerk, were appointed either by the minister or by the vestry.

With the local government thus administered, we see that the larger part of the people had little directly to do. Nevertheless, in those small neighbourhoods government could be kept in full sight of the people, and so long as its proceedings went on in broad daylight and were sustained by public sentiment, all was well. As Jefferson said, “The vestrymen are usually the most discreet farmers, so distributed through the parish that every part of it may be under the immediate eye of some one of them. They are well acquainted with the details and economy of private life, and they find sufficient inducements to execute their charge well, in their philanthropy, in the approbation of their neighbours, and the distinction which that gives them.”25

The difference, however, between the New England township and the Virginia parish, in respect of self-government, was striking enough. We have now to note a further difference. In New England, the township was the unit of representation in the colonial legislature; but in Virginia the parish was not the unit of representation. The county was that unit. In the colonial legislature of Virginia the representatives sat, not for parishes but for counties. The difference is very significant. As the political life of New England was in a manner built up out of the political life of the towns, so the political life of Virginia was built up out of the political life of the counties. This was partly because the vast plantations were not grouped about a compact village nucleus like the small farms at the North, and partly because there was not in Virginia that Puritan theory of the church according to which each congregation is a self-governing democracy. The conditions which made the New England town meeting were absent. The only alternative was some kind of representative government, and for this the county was a small enough area. The county in Virginia was much smaller than in Massachusetts or Connecticut. In a few instances the county consisted of only a single parish; in some cases it was divided into two parishes, but oftener into three or more.

In Virginia, as in England and in New England, the county was an area for the administration of justice. There were usually in each county eight justices of the peace, and their court was the counterpart of the quarter sessions in England. They were appointed by the governor, but it was customary for them to nominate candidates for the governor to appoint, so that practically the court filled its own vacancies and was a close corporation, like the parish vestry. Such an arrangement tended to keep the general supervision and control of things in the hands of a few families.

This county court usually met as often as once a month in some convenient spot answering to the shire town of England or New England. More often than not, the place originally consisted of the court-house and very little else, and was named accordingly from the name of the county, as Hanover Court House or Fairfax Court House; and the small shire towns that have grown up in such spots often retain these names to the present day. Such names occur commonly in Virginia, West Virginia, and South Carolina, and occasionally elsewhere. Their number has diminished from the tendency to omit the phrase “Court House,” leaving the name of the county for that of the shire town, as for example in Culpeper, Va. In New England the process of naming has been just the reverse; as in Hartford County, Conn., or Worcester County, Mass., which have taken their names from the shire towns. Here, as in so many cases, whole chapters of history are wrapped up in geographical names.26

The county court in Virginia had jurisdiction in criminal actions not involving peril of life or limb, and in civil suits where the sum at stake exceeded twenty-five shillings. Smaller suits could be tried by a single justice. The court also had charge of the probate and administration of wills. The court appointed its own clerk, who kept the county records. It superintended the construction and repair of bridges and highways, and for this purpose divided the county into “precincts,” and appointed annually for each precinct a highway surveyor. The court also seems to have appointed constables, one for each precinct. The justices could themselves act as coroners, but annually two or more coroners for each parish were appointed by the governor. As we have seen that the parish taxes—so much for salaries of minister and clerk, so much for care of church buildings, so much for the relief of the poor, etc.—were computed and assessed by the vestry; so the county taxes, for care of court-house and jail, roads and bridges, coroner’s fees, and allowances to the representatives sent to the colonial legislature, were computed and assessed by the county court. The general taxes for the colony were estimated by a committee of the legislature, as well as the county’s share of the colony tax. The taxes for the county, and sometimes the taxes for the parish also, were collected by the sheriff. They were usually paid, not in money, but in tobacco; and the sheriff was the custodian of this tobacco, responsible for its proper disposal. The sheriff was thus not only the officer for executing the judgments of the court, but he was also county treasurer and collector, and thus exercised powers almost as great as those of the sheriff in England in the twelfth century. He also presided over elections for representatives to the legislature. It is interesting to observe how this very important officer was chosen. “Each year the court presented the names of three of its members to the governor, who appointed one, generally the senior justice, to be the sheriff of the county for the ensuing year.”27 Here again we see this close corporation, the county court, keeping the control of things within its own hands.

One other important county officer needs to be mentioned. In early New England each town had its train-band or company of militia, and the companies in each county united to form the county regiment. In Virginia it was just the other way. Each county raised a certain number of troops, and because it was not convenient for the men to go many miles from home in assembling for purposes of drill, the county was subdivided into military districts, each with its company, according to rules laid down by the governor. The military command in each county was vested in the county lieutenant, an officer answering in many respects to the lord lieutenant of the English shire at that period. Usually he was a member of the governor’s council, and as such exercised sundry judicial functions. He bore the honorary title of “colonel,” and was to some extent regarded as the governor’s deputy; but in later times his duties were confined entirely to military matters.28

If now we sum up the contrasts between local government in Virginia and that in New England, we observe:—

1. That in New England the management of local affairs was mostly in the hands of town officers, the county being superadded for certain purposes, chiefly judicial; while in Virginia the management was chiefly in the hands of county officers, though certain functions, chiefly ecclesiastical, were reserved to the parish.

2. That in New England the local magistrates were almost always, with the exception of justices, chosen by the people; while in Virginia, though some of them were nominally appointed by the governor, yet in practice they generally contrived to appoint themselves,—in other words, the local boards practically filled their own vacancies and were self-perpetuating.

These differences are striking and profound. There can be no doubt that, as Thomas Jefferson clearly saw, in the long run the interests of political liberty are much safer under the New England system than under the Virginia system. Jefferson said: “Those wards, called townships in New England, are the vital principle of their governments, and have proved themselves the wisest invention ever devised by the wit of man for the perfect exercise of self-government, and for its preservation.29 ... As Cato, then, concluded every speech with the words Carthago delenda est, so do I every opinion with the injunction: ‘Divide the counties into wards!’”30

We must, however, avoid the mistake of making too much of this contrast. As already hinted, in those rural societies where people generally knew one another, its effects were not so far-reaching as they would be in the more complicated society of to-day. Even though Virginia had not the town meeting, “it had its familiar court-day,” which “was a holiday for all the countryside, especially in the fall and spring. From all directions came in the people on horseback, in wagons, and afoot. On the court-house green assembled, in indiscriminate confusion, people of all classes,—the hunter from the backwoods, the owner of a few acres, the grand proprietor, and the grinning, heedless negro. Old debts were settled, and new ones made; there were auctions, transfers of property, and, if election times were near, stump-speaking.”31

For seventy years or more before the Declaration of Independence the matters of general public concern, about which stump speeches were made on Virginia court-days, were very similar to those that were discussed in Massachusetts town meetings when representatives were to be chosen for the legislature. Such questions generally related to some real or alleged encroachment upon popular liberties by the royal governor, who, being appointed and sent from beyond sea, was apt to have ideas and purposes of his own that conflicted with those of the people. This perpetual antagonism to the governor, who represented British imperial interference with American local self-government, was an excellent schooling in political liberty, alike for Virginia and for Massachusetts. When the stress of the Revolution came, these two leading colonies cordially supported each other, and their political characteristics were reflected in the kind of achievements for which each was especially distinguished. The Virginia system, concentrating the administration of local affairs in the hands of a few county families, was eminently favourable for developing skilful and vigorous leadership. And while in the history of Massachusetts during the Revolution we are chiefly impressed with the remarkable degree in which the mass of the people exhibited the kind of political training that nothing in the world except the habit of parliamentary discussion can impart; on the other hand, Virginia at that time gave us—in Washington, Jefferson, Henry, Mason, Madison, and Marshall, to mention no others—such a group of leaders as has seldom been equalled.

CHAPTER XI.
BACON’S REBELLION.

The rapid development of maritime commerce in the seventeenth century soon furnished a new occasion for human folly and greed to assert themselves in acts of legislation. Crude mediæval methods of robbery began to give place to the ingenious modern methods in which men’s pockets are picked under the specious guise of public policy. Your mediæval baron would allow no ship or boat to pass his Rhenish castle without paying what he saw fit to extort for the privilege, and at the end of his evil career he was apt to compound with conscience and buy a ticket to heaven by building a chapel to the Virgin. Your modern manufacturer obtains legislative aid in fleecing his fellow-countrymen, while he seeks popularity by bestowing upon the public a part of his ill-gotten gains in the shape of a new college or a town library. This change from the more brutal to the more subtle devices for living upon the fruits of other men’s labour was conspicuous during the seventeenth century, and one of the most glaring instances of it was the Navigation Act of 1651, which forbade the importation of goods into England except in English ships, or ships of the nation that produced the goods. This foolish act was intended to cripple the Dutch carrying trade, and speedily led to a lamentable and disgraceful war between England and Holland. In its application to America it meant that English colonies could trade only with England in English ships, and it was generally greeted with indignation. Cromwell, however, did little or nothing to enforce it in America. Charles II.’s government was more active in the matter and soon became detested. One of the earliest causes of the American Revolution was thus set in operation. The policy begun in the Navigation Act was one of the grievances that kept Massachusetts in a chronic quarrel with Charles II. during the whole of his reign, and it was a source of no less irritation in Virginia.

A second Navigation Act, passed at the beginning of the reign of Charles II., prescribed that “no goods or commodities whatsoever shall be imported into or exported from any of the king’s lands, islands, plantations, or territories in Asia, Africa, or America, in any other than English, Irish, or plantation built ships, and whereof the master and at least three-fourths of the mariners shall be Englishmen, under forfeiture of ships and goods.” It was further provided that “no sugar, tobacco, cotton, wool, indigo, ginger, fustic and other dyeing woods, of the growth or manufacture of our Asian, African, or American colonies, shall be shipped from the said colonies to any place but to England, Ireland, or to some other of his Majesty’s said plantations, there to be landed, under forfeiture of goods and ships.”

The motive in these restrictions is obvious enough. Their effects were ably set forth in 1677, in a memorial by John Bland, a sagacious London merchant, whose grasp of the principles of political economy was very remarkable for that age.32 In order that merchants in England might buy Virginia tobacco very cheap, the demand for it was restricted by cutting off the export to foreign markets. In order that they might sell their goods to Virginia at exorbitant prices, the Virginians were prohibited from buying anything elsewhere. The shameless rapacity of these merchants was such as might have been expected under such fostering circumstances. If the planter shipped his own tobacco to England, the charges for freight would be put so high as to leave him scarcely any margin of profit.

Such restrictions were apt to have other effects than those contemplated. The “protected” merchants chuckled over their sagacity in keeping Dutchmen away from Virginia, for thus it would become possible to make the Dutchmen pay three or four shillings in England for tobacco that cost a ha’penny in the colony. But the worthy burghers of the Netherlands took a different view of the matter. They began planting tobacco for themselves in the East Indies, so that it became less necessary to buy it of the English. Another somewhat curious consequence may be stated in Bland’s own words: “Again, if the Hollanders must not trade to Virginia, how shall the planters dispose of their tobacco? The English will not buy it [all], for what the Hollander carried thence was a sort of tobacco not ... used by us in England, but merely to transport for Holland. Will it not then perish on the planters’ hands? which undoubtedly is not only an apparent loss of so much stock and commoditie to the plantations who suffer thereby, but for want of its employment an infinite prejudice to the commerce in general.”

There was yet another aspect of the matter. “I demand then, in the next place, which way shall the charge of the governments be maintained, if the Hollanders be debarred trade in Virginia and Maryland, or anything raised to defray the constant and yearly levies for the securing the inhabitants from invasions of the Indians? How shall the forts and public places be built and repaired, with many other incident charges daily arising, which must be taken care for, else all will come to destruction? for when the Hollanders traded thither, they paid upon every anchor of brandy (which is about 25 gallons) 5 shillings import brought in by them, and upon every hogshead of tobacco carried thence 10 shillings; and since they were debarred trade, our English, as they did not, whilst the Hollander traded there, pay anything, neither would they when they traded not ...; so that all these charges being taxed on the poor planters, it hath so impoverished them that they scarce can recover wherewith to cover their nakedness. As foreign trade makes rich and prosperous any country that hath within it any staple commodities to invite them thither, so it makes men industrious, striving with others to gather together into societies, and building of towns, and nothing doth it sooner than the concourse of shipping, as we may see before our eyes, Dover and Deal what they are grown into, the one by the Flanders trade, the other by ships riding in the Downs.”

But if in spite of all these arguments the Navigation Act must stand, then, says this acute writer, “let me on the behalf of the said colonies of Virginia and Maryland make these following proposals, which I hope will appear but equitable:—

“First, that the traders to Virginia and Maryland from England shall furnish and supply the planters and inhabitants of those colonies with all sorts of commodities and necessaries which they may want or desire, at as cheap rates and prices as the Hollanders used to have when the Hollander was admitted to trade thither.

“Secondly, that the said traders out of England to those colonies shall not only buy of the planters such tobacco ... as is fit for England, but take off all that shall be yearly made by them, at as good rates and prices as the Hollanders used to give for the same, by bills of exchange or otherwise....

“Thirdly, that if any of the inhabitants or planters of the said colonies shall desire to ship his tobacco or goods for England, that the traders from England to Virginia and Maryland shall let them have freight in their ships at as low and cheap rates as they used to have when the Hollanders and other nations traded thither.

“Fourthly, that for maintenance of the governments, raising of forces to withstand the invasions of the Indians, building of forts and other public works needful in such new discovered countries, the traders from England to pay there in Virginia and Maryland as much yearly as was received of the Hollanders and strangers as did trade thither, whereby the country may not have the whole burden to lie on their hard and painful labour and industry, which ought to be encouraged but not discouraged.

“Thus having proposed in my judgment what is both just and equal, to all such as would not have the Hollanders permitted to trade into Virginia and Maryland, I hope if they will not agree hereunto, it will easily appear it is their own profits and interest they seek, not those colonies’s nor your Majesty’s service, but in contrary the utter ruin of all the inhabitants and planters there; and if they perish, that vast territory must be left desolate, to the exceeding disadvantage of this nation and your Majesty’s honour and revenue.”

After this keen exposure of the protectionist humbug the author concludes by offering his own proposal. “Let all Hollanders and other nations whatsoever freely trade into Virginia and Maryland, and bring thither and carry thence whatever they please,” with only one qualification. It had been urged that, without legislative aid, English shipping could not compete successfully with that of other countries. Insatiableness of commercial greed begets a fidgetty, unreasoning dread of anything like free competition. Just as the Frenchman puts tariff duties upon German goods because he knows he cannot compete with Germans in a free market, while at the same moment the German puts tariff duties upon French goods because he knows he cannot compete with Frenchmen in a free market, so it was with men’s arguments two centuries ago. It was urged that French and Dutch ships could be built and navigated at smaller expense than English ships; and this point our author meets by suggesting a differential tonnage-duty “to counterpoise the cheapness,” only great care must be taken not to make it prohibitory.

The principal effect of the Navigation Act upon Virginia and Maryland was to lower the price of tobacco while it increased the cost of all articles imported from England. As tobacco was the circulating medium in these colonies, the effect was practically a depreciation of the currency with the usual disastrous consequences. There was an inflation of prices, and all commodities became harder to get. Efforts were made from time to time to contract the currency by curtailing the tobacco crop. It was proposed, for example, in 1662, that no tobacco should be planted in Maryland or Virginia for the following year. Such proposals recurred from time to time, but it proved impossible to secure concerted action between the two colonies. In 1664 the whole tobacco crop of Virginia was worth less than £3 15s. for each person in the colony. In 1666 so much tobacco was left on the hands of the planters that a determined effort was made to enforce the cessation of planting, and after much discussion an agreement was reached between Maryland, Virginia, and the new settlements in Carolina, but the plan was defeated by disapproval in Maryland which led to a veto from Lord Baltimore. In 1667 the price of tobacco fell to a ha’penny a pound, and Thomas Ludwell, writing to Lord Berkeley in London, “declared that there were but three influences restraining the smaller landowners of Virginia from rising in rebellion, namely, faith in the mercy of God, loyalty to the king, and affection for the government.”33

The discontent sometimes took the form of a disposition to resist the collection of taxes, as in Surry, in December, 1673, when “a company of seditious and rude people to y^e number of ffourteene did unlawfully Assemble at y^e pish church of Lawnes Creeke, w^th Intent to declare they would not pay theire publiq taxes, & y^t they Expected diverse oth^rs to meete them, who faileing they did not put theire wicked design in Execution.” Nevertheless these persons assembled again, some three weeks later, in an old field “called y^e Divell’s field,” where they passed divers lawless resolutions interspersed with heated harangues. In particular one Roger Delke did say, “we will burne all before one shall Suffer,” and when brought before the magistrates, “y^e s^d Delke Acknowledged he said y^e same words, & being asked why they meet at y^e church he said by reason theire taxes were soe unjust, & they would not pay it.”34 The ringleaders in this affair were fined, but Governor Berkeley remitted the fines, provided “they acknowledged their faults and pay the court charges.”

Another cause of trouble was the king’s recklessness in rewarding public services or gratifying favourites by extensive grants of wild land in America. It was an easy way to pay debts, for it cost the king nothing, and all the labour and expense of making the grant valuable fell upon the grantee. To many of these grants there could, of course, be no objection. Those that founded the Carolinas and Pennsylvania and the Hudson Bay Company were all proper enough. The trouble began when territory already granted and occupied by Englishmen was given away again. There were some complicated and obscure instances of this in New England, but a flagrant and exasperating case occurred in Virginia in 1673, when Charles made a grant of the whole country to the Earl of Arlington and Lord Culpeper, to hold for thirty-one years at a yearly rent of 40 shillings to be paid at Michaelmas.

The practical effect of this grant was to convert Virginia into something like a proprietary government, with Arlington and Culpeper for proprietors. It was, of course, not the intention to disturb individuals in the possession of lands already acquired by a valid title; but escheated lands were to go to these proprietors instead of the crown, and there was an opportunity for grievous injustice, for many escheated lands were occupied by persons who had purchased them in good faith. The lord proprietors were to receive the revenues of the colony, to appoint all public officers, and to present pastors for installation. In short, the entire control of the internal administration of the colony was to be placed in their hands, and against such favourites of the king an appeal at any time was likely to be of little avail. It is needless to add that the grant was made without consulting the Virginians. For people who had lavished so much loyalty upon a worthless sovereign, this was a scurvy requital. To find its match for ingratitude one must go to the story of Inkle and Yarico. No sooner did the House of Burgesses hear of it than they sent commissioners to England to make an energetic protest. They found the king rather surprised to hear that the Virginians cared anything about such a trifle; he promised to satisfy everybody, and that naturally took some time, so that the matter was still under discussion when things came to a blaze in Virginia.

The unprincipled government of Charles II. in England was matched in some respects by the oppressive administration of Sir William Berkeley in Virginia. We have already met this gentleman on several occasions; it is now time to notice him more particularly. He was son of Sir Maurice Berkeley, who was one of the members of the London Company when it was first organized in 1606. Several members of the family were interested in American affairs. Sir William’s elder brother, Lord Berkeley of Stratton, was a favourite of Charles II., and one of the group of proprietors to whom that king granted Carolina in 1663. Sir William was an aristocrat to the ends of his fingers, a man of velvet and gold lace, a brave soldier, a devoted husband, a chivalrous friend, and withal as narrow and bigoted and stubborn a creature as one could find anywhere. He had no sympathy with common people, nor any very clear sense of duty toward them. When he first arrived in Virginia in 1642, at the age of thirty-four, he was considered very gracious and affable in manners, and during the ten years of his first governorship he seems to have been generally popular. From 1652 to 1660 he lived in retirement on his rural estate of Greenspring near Jamestown, where he had an orchard of more than 2,000 fruit trees—apples, pears, quinces, peaches, and apricots—and a stable of seventy fine horses. There he entertained Cavalier guests and drank healths to King Charles until he was once more called to Jamestown to be governor. In 1661 he went to London and stayed for a year, and it was afterwards thought that his visit with his froward and hot-tempered brother35 worked a change in him for the worse. Berkeley’s errand in London was to oppose an attempt which the old London Company was making to have its charter restored; the people of Virginia had long ago passed the stage at which they regretted the overthrow of the Company. During his stay in London, Berkeley saw one of his own plays performed at the theatre, for this courtier and Cavalier dabbled in literature. Of this tragi-comedy, “The Lost Lady,” Pepys tells us in his Diary that at first he did not care much for it, but liked it better the next time he saw it.36